OneEyedChurro — Roleplayer Guild

##**Marcel Rimbaud** **Description:** Standing at nearly 6'3" and baring the slabby and not-toned muscle pertinent to most forge workers and blacksmiths, Marcel is, on all accounts, a large man. His skin was once fair but has become increasingly tan and leathery- and this is shown on his face the most; though he has only recently become 31 years of age, the skin on his cheeks and forehead look stretched to the bone, and his visible hand (His left he often keeps wrapped or hidden in his sleeve) is very calloused and riddled with coal stains. Since he's often wearing sleeves, most don't notice that his right arm is visibly stronger than his left, though by no means is his left arm feeble and useless. Marcel also pertains the features of the Rimbaud family- pale blue eyes and straight, jet black hair, which Marcel keeps at a shoulder-length. He cleans it fairly often, but otherwise doesn't groom it very much. What little grooming he *does* practice, however, goes towards his beard, which he keeps in a clean and styled [french fork](http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/10/108959/3120816-431816_355061691260931_550177553_n.jpg), the same way that his father used to style his. His most unique feature, however, is often hidden from sight- his left hand. Having suffered a bad burn and lost its feeling, the skin remains black and crusty. The totem drawn into the palm has made the little skin that is left to turn a near-red color. It could be said that his left hand nearly shares an appearance with [lava rock](https://c1.staticflickr.com/7/6157/6134275039_89cc64e980_z.jpg). -- **Backstory:** Most of the relatively small Rimbaud family are lifetime residents of Belencrest, Marcel one of them. His father was the owner of a wartime-smithy (Eruben War), and Marcel still holds that he was a damned fine blacksmith, regardless of what ledgers and accountants may say. Naturally, Marcel was expected to run the smithy when his father no longer could, so growing up he was taught the trades of a smith. Marcel didn't have much of a life outside of this- his father was incredibly protective, a hereditary trait seemingly all Rimbauds have. From his father's training and some natural talent, Marcel was shaping up to be a fine blacksmith. However, as a young man working the forge an accident happened and Marcel found his left hand horrendously burned. Out of fear of both disappointing his father and of having his life change drastically, Marcel tried to hide the burn, but he could barely turn a doorknob, much less grip a hammer. His burn was quickly discovered, and to Marcel's surprise, his father was quick to ease the pain, a lifetime of similar burns and their treatments ingrained into the man's head. But in Marcel's case they were simply too late, and all feeling in his left hand left with the pain. Marcel told his father this- and he remembers to this day that his father simply smiled. He grabbed a small knife and gently (as gentle as a blacksmith could be) cut a pattern into the palm of the crusty skin. It was a strange shape- small and rectangular, filled with intersecting lines. Marcel jumped back as his father finished- heat! His lifeless hand felt hot, though it was still cold and crusty to the touch. He still couldn't make a fist, either. Marcel's father explained to him that while he'll never truly feel with that hand again, this pattern, this "totem", will make his hand feel hot, and he will at least be able to tell differences in heat. His father then opened his palms to show Marcel that he, too, had the same totem on one of his hands. In reality, Marcel's father forced him back into working as a smith, though Marcel likes to think that it was ultimately his decision. His work, he found, was actually somewhat improved by the burn and totem- while having one hand slowed him down a bit, the totem let him feel the subtle changes and differences in heat that others just can't feel. This meant he could "feel" the perfect temperature of the forge, and "feel" when metal was at its most malleable state. Marcel's father took the credit, of course, for Marcel's work, saying that it was his training that was allowing the young man to do so well, not the totem. Marcel continued to work at the smithy both as an actual smith and also a delivery boy, and in doing so he learned the streets of Belencrest fairly well. Eventually, however, Marcel had to close the smithy he had "inherited" from his father. For one, it was tough to keep the place running during a time of relative peace, as horseshoes and small decorations only bring in so much income, but Marcel's father's health was quickly failing as the man aged. Marcel soon found himself tending to his father in his "retirement", since the man could barely walk on his own. As Rimbaud tradition would have it, Marcel was not bitter about this new "role", in fact, Marcel found himself becoming so protective of him that he refused to let his father be the first to walk through the door to their home, should they stumble upon some intruder. Marcel's father passed, and he was left with what little money his father had given him and the forge, which he decided against trying to get up and running again. With no wife and no mother, and with the majority of Rimbauds being shut-ins, Marcel turned to the city guard for solace- so long as he worked hard he would be provided with meals and a home. He had to be careful to hide his bad hand during training sessions, but he managed, and discovered he wasn't too shabby at swordplay, either. He wasn't as graceful as others, but his size and former profession meant that he could swing hard and have the stamina and willpower to take a hit, if need be. Marcel served with the guard for some time, until he heard that the White Guard were to be coming to town. Having not heard of them before, he did further research and learned of their previous exploits and overall good reputation. They seemed to be honest men and women doing good, reputable (albeit sometimes dangerous) work, so naturally Marcel felt called to join them- that was about two years ago. -- **Goals/Fears**: Marcel isn't really the type of man to set himself goals- he considers himself to be doing good, honest work and as long as he continues doing good, honest work, then he's content. This levitation towards the "good" and "honest" come from a deep fear of ridicule, however, or fear of being in some fort of spotlight for some negative reason. It's what drove him to be afraid of his father, it's what drove him to train hard when he joined the city guard, and it's what continues to drive him to this day. -- **Mastery**: Defender- while Marcel will never be the best at taking a hit nor will he hit the hardest, its the utility of being able to do both adequately that make him useful in a fight. His naturally defensive and protective demeanor means he likes to try and block hits not meant for him, while his size and strength lets his sword-arm swing hard and fast. Due to his injury, it is impossible for Marcel to use weaponry that requires the use of both hands. -- **Equipment**: Marcel likes to wear an amalgamation of heavy and medium-strength armor- normally a plated cuirass with either chain or scale sleeves. He feels going completely heavy-laden would slow him down too much, since he's already quite slow, but committing to completely medium armor leaves him too unprotected. He prefers swords above anything, but is trained in most single-handed weaponry, and since the grip of his left hand is questionable, Marcel sticks to things that can be strapped to the forearm- claws, punch daggers, even the small mini-bolt crossbows he's heard that some shopkeepers like to hide up their sleeves for security. More often than not, however, Marcel's choice of off-hand is a shield he made for himself and modified with straps that tie around the wrist and forearm in four places. -- **Personality**: Marcel doesn't know what to think of himself. Growing up, he always looked to how his father treated him as the standard for what he should think of himself- if his father was nice, he thought highly of himself, if his father was angry at him, he took it personally and thought lesser of himself. Ever since his father's passing Marcel has struggled over what kind of man he *is* and what kind of man he *wants* to be. Training under both the city guard and the White Guard has relieved some of his inquiry by ingraining the ideal of thinking of others before oneself as well as the tenants of duty and sacrifice, but the question still gnaws at him from time to time. Towards others, Marcel does his best to be kind and honest- another facet from his fear of ridicule. Living a relatively sheltered childhood means he'll never actively try and start conversations, but he'll more than happily join in, provided he has something he thinks worthwhile to say. He enjoys companionship despite having been basically alone for several years of his life. -- **Totems**: Drawn on the palm of his left hand is a small, rectangular pattern filled with intersecting lines- it is a drawing reminiscent of the popular totem used to heat houses and start fires, but seems to be a lesser version and only provides heat to his left hand, almost perfectly up to the wrist. Marcel uses this heat as a very rudimentary way of feeling- he can sense changes in heat, and can feel if things are hot or cold, but that's about as far as it goes.

Really digging this so far- like the others, wanted to run a concept by you. I was thinking my character could be somewhat one-handed, his left hand has fallen victim to a bad burn, and can no longer feel. What I'm thinking is that there's a totem pattern (Probably some sort of lesser version of the hatchwork that makes heat, but nothing that could start a fire or anything) drawn on the palm that makes his left hand feel perpetually hot, and this is a very rudimentary way he uses to "feel", though it's really just changes in the heat that he's feeling (Sort of assuming that the heat generated by totems isn't "natural" heat and that's why he can feel it). Is that too weird? Is making him nearly one-handed too much of a hindrance?

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