[hider=Lucian][hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=steelblue][center]Lucian DuBois[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
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[hr][hr][h3][b][i][color=steelblue][center]Character Summary[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
[b][color=steelblue]Name:[/color][/b] Lucian DuBois
[b][color=steelblue]Aliases:[/color][/b] le Chacal (Jackal)
[b][color=steelblue]Age:[/color][/b] 36
[b][color=steelblue]Nationality:[/color][/b] French
[b][color=steelblue]Ethnicity:[/color][/b] French
[b][color=steelblue]Current Residence:[/color][/b] Ajaccio, Corsica, France 
[b][color=steelblue]Gender:[/color][/b] Male
[b][color=steelblue]Education:[/color][/b] Uncompleted colonial studies at the University of Lyon
[b][color=steelblue]Job:[/color][/b]  Soldier of Fortune, expedition guide
[b][color=steelblue]Role:[/color][/b] Pathfinder and guide, African survival expert 

[hr][hr][h3][b][i][color=steelblue][center]Appearance[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
[b][color=steelblue]Height:[/color][/b] 5’09” 
[b][color=steelblue]Weight:[/color][/b] 157 lbs.
[b][color=steelblue]Build:[/color][/b] Mesomorph, defined musculature and broad shouldered.
[b][color=steelblue]Eyes:[/color][/b] Green
[b][color=steelblue]Hair:[/color][/b] Dark brown
[b][color=steelblue]Skin Tone:[/color][/b] Caucasian with a defined tan
[b][color=steelblue]Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:[/color][/b] Missing half of his left pinky finger, a trio of scars across his torso from blade and shrapnel wounds, a bullet wound in his right calf. 
[b][color=steelblue]Personal Style:[/color][/b] A man of practical tastes, Lucian prefers clothing of Earth tones that correspond to the climate. Flannel shirts, cotton trousers, fur lined coats, khaki safari suits, and great coats have all found their way on his person. One thing that remains constant on his figure is a light blue scarf and a chord necklace with a tooth or claw from the first of any predator he has taken down while in the African wilderness. 

His hair and beard are kept somewhat in check, but practicality trumps any sense of high fashion that consume other men. His green eyes are stern and unwavering, exalting a sense of severity and danger that have dissuaded more hot headed counterparts on more than one occasion. Most of his pear-shaped face and somewhat gaunt cheeks are concealed by the wiry beard he keeps thick, although with a disciplined trim, and his complexion is unmarred by scarring and pox, save for those earned in combat. He is a man who seldom smiles nor seems particularly concerned about hardships. He is a man who looks like he emerged from the wilds and tamed it.  

[hr][hr][h3][b][i][color=steelblue][center]Psychology[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
[i][color=steelblue][center]Pragmatic * Unwavering * Dependable * Reserved[/center][/color][/i]

[b][color=steelblue]Sexuality:[/color][/b] Heterosexual
[b][color=steelblue]Relationship Status:[/color][/b] Single
[b][color=steelblue]Personality:[/color][/b] A calm and collected individual, Lucian has always been a man who speaks sparingly and had never been one for gossip. More content to sit in a corner and observe than be the center of attention, he is a studious man who judges people on their dispositions rather than their words, being an individual who ultimately is a cooperative but not necessarily trusting with others, only stepping in when foolishness could lead to unwanted consequences. 

Lucian has never been an easily shaken man, handling stressful and dangerous situations with a calm, collected manner that seem at odds with the chaos around him. From heavy shelling at Verdun to hostile tribesmen or being stalked by leopards, very few things seem to elicit a strong reaction from the Frenchman. That isn’t to say he is not capable of moments of ferocity and levity in generous measure, but ultimately he is a considerate and thoughtful man that always seems to have a plan and carries himself with a relaxed confidence that is reassuring to those around him.

A collector of handguns and revolvers from across the globe, as well as maps and flags and coins, Lucian has amassed a small, but impressive collection in his homestead in Corsica, often traveling with his model 1892 Lebel revolver and it is rare for him to return home after months-long expeditions without something to show for it. He drinks wines and fine liquors on occasion, preferring the ritual of the occasion rather than pursuing intoxication, and while not a regular smoker, Lucian does smoke to relax and to take the edge off of stress. 

[b][color=steelblue]Habits:[/color][/b] 
* Social drinker and smoker
* Flips pencils, cartridges, coins, or other similar objects between his fingers when concentrating or passing time
* Chews finger nails to keep them short. Clippers aren’t always available
*Covers his mouth with a closed hand and open thumb when deep in thought.
* Cleans guns and sharpens knives daily, regardless of cleanliness or edge
* Boils his water prior to cooking, washing and drinking

[b][color=steelblue]Hobbies:[/color][/b] 
* Sustenance hunter, he harvests his kills, unless they are predators that pose a threat to himself or others
* Avid outdoorsman
* Recreational swimmer
* Enjoys weekly bonfires when possible
* Reading
* Studying languages and cultures of regions of interest

[b][color=steelblue]Fears:[/color][/b] 3 real fears that make your character unhinged
[list][*] Gas, his experiences during the Great War have left him mentally scarred when he encounters mysterious smoke or strong scents, causing him to recoil and attempt to vacate the area if possible
[*]  Contracting a crippling illness, after a particularly brutal bought of malaria and seeing the aftermath of the Spanish Flu and other jungle diseases, Lucian is rightfully health conscious and practices caution around those who appear to be ill and he takes pains to avoid leeches and mosquitos 
[*] Being burned alive, another fear brought about from experiences during the war, nothing seemed quite as horrific as watching men slowly die in agony after being immolated[/list]

[b][color=steelblue]Likes:[/color][/b] 
[list][*] Learning about other cultures
[*] The outdoors
[*]  Cooking up game
[*] The beach and salty sea air
[*] Wildlife watching
[*] Practicing marksmanship skills
[*] Traveling by ship
[*] Finding a mentally invigorating book[/list]

[b][color=steelblue]Dislikes:[/color][/b] 
[list][*] Crowds
[*] The cold and snow
[*] Leopards
[*] Poor manners and willful ignorance
[*] Bragarts
[*] Putting up with wet socks
[*] People prone to overindulgence [/list]

[hr][hr][h3][b][i][color=steelblue][center]History[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
[b][color=steelblue]A Memory:[/color][/b] 

[hider=The Lioness]
[I]French Equatorial Africa, the Savanna, August 23, 1925…[/I]
The sun was just beginning its descent into the foliage to the West, setting itself to slumber after another long day scorching the central African colony with unforgiving heat. The winter rains that would offer relief to the lands wouldn’t come for another two months at the earliest, and it was increasingly apparent that the group of men that Lucian DuBois was guiding across the savanna and jungles of French Equatorial Africa on a hunting expedition had not anticipated the climate to be so formidable. They had recently shot a buffalo that was sickly and trailing behind the herd that Lucian had decided to put out of its suffering and convinced the men that its patchy fur and molted, pale skin was because it was a fighter and was protecting the herd by looking for danger. The men seemed happy, and the buffalo didn’t have to suffer being eaten alive by predators and instead took an expertly placed shot in the lung that claimed it promptly. Lucian didn’t mention that buffalo skulls and horns were so thick that they were effectively bulletproof and the animals were far more dangerous than anything with claws were in Africa. If they bungled a shot on a healthy one, there was a good chance any one of them would have been gored. A pity.

Pink, sweaty, and in a couple of instances, grossly overweight, the men had spent the better part of three days complaining endlessly and being demanding, only relenting on not being offered bigger portions of the rations of water when Lucian and his partner, an indigenous man named Samuel, helpfully pointed out that if they consumed all of the water before reaching the next settlement, they would likely perish from thirst, or the horses would, and then they would have to try and traverse the next 120 kilometers on foot in lion country. This point finally stuck as a pride of lions helpfully demonstrated the crushing power of their jaws on the hind leg of an impala, making the red-faced men somehow go pale. 

And so, despite the constant bickering and attempt to throw around their names and titles like they meant anything to Lucian and Samuel, who had the misfortune of having been the brunt of bigotry that was far too common of the homelanders that seemed to forget that African men like Samuel had served with the Foreign Legion and fought and died with courage that none of these men would ever understand so that the Kaiser didn’t rule over their fat-asses. To Samuel’s credit, he didn’t rise to the bait or visibly seem to care what a bunch of ignorant, woefully unprepared white men thought of him, although his face did seem to light up at the prospect of them crossing lion territory on foot. Like Lucian, Samuel took the small pleasures where they could. Both men sat on a boulder on the edge of camp, keeping an eye on the parched grass and shrubs for movement while sharing a cigarette. 

Samuel pointed ahead, half consumed and flickering a pale orange with wispy tendrils catching the breeze. “There.”

“I see her.” Lucian confirmed, his Winchester resting on his thigh, watching as the grass subtly shifted and the telltale iridescent orbs of a lioness stalked ever so patiently towards one of the fat men, who was boasting about something or other that was probably about a new car or pretty serving girl who served him on the side for a paltry bit of money. It was all meaningless babble of a man who might as well have been from the moon. Lucian took the offered cigarette back and took a heavy drag on it before handing it back to Samuel, taking the safety off of the lever-action rifle, his preferred arm in the African continent since its designed sealed it tightly from debris that would have stopped a Lebel rifle or Chauchat dead ages ago. There wasn’t much that the beefy American 30-06 cartridge couldn’t put down with authority, and Americans were always so eager to sell their cowboy culture abroad to a number of buyers. Even the damned Germans profited from American sales up until they pissed off the massive war machine that had done an admirably frustrating job of trying to maintain neutrality up until around when the Russians called it quits during the Great War. It was funny how the world worked at times; one player leaves, another takes his place. The question was who would take the place of the fat Frenchman when the lioness made off with a big enough meal to maybe support the pride for a week. 

“The others would be more compliant if we let her take one.” Samuel pointed out dryly. Even after years of working with the man, Lucian had a hard time telling when his African counterpart was being sarcastic or dead serious.

“Yes, that is true. However, dead men don’t pay very well.” Lucian said, offering a rare half-smile to his friend as he shouldered the rifle, gaining a sight picture almost instantly after years of practice with the weapon. He found the lioness easily enough, who was now only a few dangerously close meters to the backs of the men, and about to leave her cover, where escape for a human being in their physical prime would have been impossible, let alone for the gluttonous masses that were under his care. He lined the sight up behind the lioness’ leg, where her heart and lung would be, and as she crouched low, preparing to leap, his finger began to squeeze the trigger.

The rifle barked once.

Alarmed, the men of the camp were startled and looked around, eyes finding Lucian. He pointed forward. The lioness lay motionless, almost within spitting distance of the closest men. Even in the fading evening light, he could make out the horrified realizations across their faces, and then the sudden relief and the laughter that came with it. He offered a half-hearted wave to the men. They waved back.

“You’re no fun.” Samuel grumbled.

Lucian simply reached out for the cigarette, contented with his choice in doing the job he was paid to do. Near-death experiences tended to net considerable bonuses, after all.
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[b][color=steelblue]History:[/color][/b] 
[hider=Through Chaos Comes Resolve]
Born in the outskirts of Lyon, France in 1893 to an upper middle class family to Bernard and Emmy DuBois, and he was the middle child of seven siblings, being the junior to Hector and Nancy and the senior to Edgard, Soren, and Slaina. A promising student in his youth, Lucian worked as a cobbler for his father on weekends and evenings when not attending school, and he was already a proficient hunter in his own right by the time he was 14, spending time out in the woods with his father, harvesting red deer and boar, as well as terminating wolves for a bounty put out by farmers. He was a quiet, studious boy that seemed to prefer solitude to the company of other children, something that began to change when he attended secondary school in anticipation of university where he made a small handful of close friends, most of whom would join him in enrolling in the University of Lyon in 1911 when he was 18 years old. 

At university, Lucian majored in colonial affairs, learning about the territories and people of France’s empire and he began to dream of a wider world, his imagination fully enraptured by wild and incredible things that he could only begin to imagine and strongly desired to experience for himself. Anything had to be more romantic and good for the mind than the boring tedium of the French countryside and city life that he’d known his whole life. A wanderlust filled the young man, and like so many others, when the call to arms came out in 1914 when France and England declared war on the German Empire, Lucian quickly dropped out of university to take up arms and serve his homeland, much like his great-grandfather, who had been an officer under Napoleon decades before.

Lucian enlisted in the 12th Infantry Division, quickly discovering that the adventure the war promised was nothing he could have ever prepared for. For years in the trenches, he had watched the French countryside become torn asunder by endless shelling, bombings, minefields, and the endless munitions spat from the muzzles of rifles and machine-guns. The entire ordeal was detestable, and Lucian learned to hate the long and brutal winters, the perpetually muddy trenches where rifles became inoperable, and worst of all the damnable mustard gas attacks that the Germans had launched against them early in the war, causing blistering of skin and suffocation in such mass quantities he could not help but help picture him and his fellow soldiers and cattle being lead to slaughter. 

Instead of giving into despair, Lucian threw himself into combat with a fury at the audacity of the Kaiser’s men and soon found himself a decorated and oftentimes wounded trench raider, being issued a Chauchat  for marching fire against the enemy and in Verdun, he was commended after holding his position against a relentless assault, emptying nearly eight magazines into the advancing German ranks before mud rendered the weapon inoperable and continuing to fight with a Lebel revolver, a sidearm that has since been his constant companion throughout life, and with a spade when the Germans entered the trenches.     

After the war, Lucian returned to Lyon, acclimatizing himself to civilian life once more and working again for his father as a cobbler. This lasted for a bit longer than a year when the memories of wanting to explore began to stir again and the ignorance of those who didn’t fight began to grate on him. Fortune found him by chance when he caught wind of a wealthy entrepreneur preparing an expedition to French Equatorial Africa for a prospecting venture. Signing on using his military experience of surviving harsh conditions, his experience as a hunter and soldier to handle hostile tribesmen and wildlife, and his education in matters of the region to make himself an assured asset to the expedition. It wasn’t a day after putting his name in that a courier came to the home and handed him the job offer. And so on a sleepy January 1920 morning, Lucian began a career as a guide and wilderness survival expert for the French colony.

For the next 9 years, Lucian earned himself a reputation for being a hardy and dependable sort, a crack shot with his Winchester Model 1895 lever action rifle and Lebel revolver, and he became a freelancer and soldier of fortune of sorts, taking jobs from the governor’s office when expeditions weren’t available to deal with hostilities of the two-legged variety. Already an accomplished hunter, Lucian found plenty more exciting game than the wolves of France to contend with, and a large part of his job was keeping predators from snacking on his clients. Having reached a place in life away from the mundanity of city life and pursuing his passions, Lucian has reached a point of contentment and pleasure away from the troubles of Europe and testing himself as a man against one of the last true frontiers of the world. 

And so on a balmy Mediterranean November 1929 afternoon sitting on a balcony with a glass of scotch in his hand in his home base of Corsica, a courier arrived much like they had after the Great War with an offer from one Baron Carnock. And so, the man who became known as le Chacal answered his summons for yet another life-changing bit of fortune.
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