Character Name: Sgt. Evander (“Evan”) Kincade
Canon/Original: Original
Gender: Male
Age: twenty-eight
Family: Clan Kincade (it’s a touch extensive)
Father – Duncan Kincade (deceased)
Mother – Igraine Kincade
Bothers – Malcolm (deceased), Ramsay, Steafan, Conall (deceased).
Sisters – Iona, Lileas, Mŕrie
Spirit:: n/a
Occupation: Sergeant in the Thiasan Army
Place of Habitation: Just transferred to the Garrison on the Border.
Physical Description: Evan stands perhaps an inch or two above average, and possesses a ropy, knotted musculature. His skin is pale, like many northerners, and stands out against his dark eyes and hair (which is cropped at a medium length, and has a tendency to curl ferociously). He has chiseled cheekbones and a narrow, hatchet-like face, with features a shade too severe to be handsome. His eyes are deep-set under low brows, and his long, thin nose has obviously been broken and never properly reset. Depending on the day of the week, his jaw might bear anything from a smattering of stubble to a reasonable beard. Numerous scars mark his body, and his left little finger is merely a stub. While not necessarily an angry man, the natural setting of his face tends to resemble a scowl, giving him the impression of a toughened and taciturn bastard.
While off-duty, Evan wears a simple muslin shirt, cambric britches, boots, and a battered leather jerkin, clamped around his waist with a studded leather belt he won in a game of cards. A few knives tend to reside on his person at all times, some more easily seen than others. In cold weather, a dark canvas cloak tends to join this ensemble, although Evan’s definition of ‘cold’ is about twenty degrees beneath everyone else’s. His battle-wear, however, consists of a padded gambeson and a
brigandine belted at the waist, with a pair of bandoliers strapping his two short swords to his back. A boiled leather collar, as well as leather greaves and vambraces, are common accoutrements to this ensemble.
Personality: Evan is one of those slightly scary quiet guys. While not educated, he’s clearly smart, and has a good mind for tactics for someone who is only-just literate. He can bark out orders that ring across a parade ground or battlefield, but he tends to be quiet and taciturn when left to his own devices. He does not mind the company of women, but has never developed serious feelings for one, and while he’ll have a frothing ale as soon as any soldier, he’s prone to drinking alone. He’s not really one to start a confrontation, but if one starts, he’ll damn well be the one to finish it. As soon as a threat emerges, stratagems flash through his mind like lightening. He then flings himself into battle with a calculated intensity so passionate, it borders on madness.
He is personally very disciplined, rational, and does his best to contain his emotions. The ends justify the means in most instances, and moral quandaries are rarely a part of his life. Still, some vestiges of an old code of honor remain, and there are certain things Evan will not do to an enemy under any circumstances. While easily angered, he keeps from lashing out, bottling up his anger and letting it simmer until he can unleash it in a furious bout of violence.
Jaded from his travels, he has a dark, sardonic sense of humor. Although Catholic like most Scalians, Evan’s religiosity is mild at most. His family’s proximity to barbaric lands, however, has led to the preservation of certain pagan beliefs. As a result, Evan clings to a number of superstitions stemming from his Celtic roots, which are at odds with his rational persona. Most of his friends and men excuse these habits and beliefs as odd quirks rather than heresy, and no one has complained about the horseshoe over the barracks door yet.
History: Evander was born and raised in the Scotian highlands, in the region of Scalia sandwiched between Duain, and the Celtic-Viking lands. This cold, bitter, and barren location gave birth to lines of tough men and women, as well as the scrawniest, meanest sheep known to mankind. When not beating back the offenses of vengeful Vikings attempting to reclaim annexed lands, the clans make do with fighting one another over trampled and desolate grazing ground.
Evan was born the third son of Thane Duncan Kincade, patriarch of the Kincade clan – one of the more landed and aggressive families in the highlands. His extended family made up most of the heavily fortified burgh where he grew up, making it hard to move without stepping into a sibling or cousin. Evan would spend a great deal of time out on the moors alone for this reason. Worried his son might be something of a nature-loving romantic, or worse, a
poet, Duncan hurried to instill a manly disposition in Evan, and all his brothers for that matter. In addition to doing chores around the burgh, the boys were expected to be strong fighters, hunters, and lovers, while the girls were taught to be practical, level-headers managers of households and kitchens. By the time Evan was seventeen he could hunt and skin any animal in the highlands, fight with swords, knives, pikes, and fists, and knew the basics of weapon and armor repair. While he lacked his brothers’ bawdy enthusiasm for excessive ale and wenches, he made up for this shortcoming in his father’s eyes via sheer ruthless efficiency in every task.
When Duncan died of a burst heart after a series of prolonged midwinter festivities, Evan’s eldest brother, Malcolm, assumed the new role of Patriarch, taking his sister Iona as his bride. Happy and a bit stupid, Malcolm relied heavily on the advice of his younger brothers, and the management skills of his capable and intelligent wife. His reign would prove short-lived. Barely sixteen months after assuming the role of Thane, he took an arrow through the eye in a border skirmish.
As second eldest, Ramsay now took leadership. Unlike Malcolm he was intelligent, but hotheaded and arrogant. He also possessed a paranoid streak, and considered Evan his rival. He began to antagonize his brother, persisting in deliberately angering him, until Evan finally took the bait. The resulting confrontation left Ramsey with a broken leg and a few less teeth. It left Evander with a broken nose, and exile from the clan.
He took shelter for a fortnight with one of the few clans the Kincades hadn’t recently attacked, before a trading caravan rolled through. After speaking with the merchant head of the caravan (and purchasing no small number of drinks), arrangements were made for Evan to join the caravan when they rolled out as a defender for their goods. Thus began his career as a sword-for-hire.
Evan traveled Scalia with a number of merchant caravans as an armed escort over the next couple of years. One caravan included a wandering monk named Brother Godfric, who did his best to teach Evan the rudiments of reading and writing. He also did his best to save Evan’s soul by getting him to dispose of the pagan medallion he wore for good luck beneath his shirt, but to no avail.
Guard. Escort. Mercenary. If it paid and it involved potentially hitting something with something sharp, Evan probably did it. A handful of these career choices proved somewhat less than legal in the eyes of the public at large, and in order to lay low, Evan bartered passage aboard a ship headed across the channel, planning on spending some time in Thiasa until everyone forgot his face.
Joining a caravan headed to Thiasa Keep, Evan joined up with the city guard for some time, until he discovered that the King’s Army paid better. Enlisting as a private, his discipline, skill, and performance in training and skirmishes eventually led to a promotion. He is currently a sergeant with fifty men under his command and a reputation. Whether this is a good reputation or bad reputation is still a subject of dispute amongst aforementioned men.
With war an imminent object on the horizon, Evander is eagerly awaiting reassignment to the front.
Plot Potential: Well, he’s a soldier, and an officer in the Infantry. I intend for him to do a lot of fighting and spend a good deal of time commanding a troop stationed to the front lines fighting the Baskar once war breaks out, and forming relationships with other enlisted characters.
SAMPLE RP (with this character only):The ale was unpleasantly sour. And warm. Sergeant Evander Kincade sighed as he lowered his tankard and wiped the froth from his lip with a grubby sleeve. Compared to the cool and cloudy highlands of his birth, all of Thiasa was hot as the steam baths of Roma.
And you can’t get a ruttin’ cold drink bloody anywhere. The barmaid leaned over the bar at him, grinning with crooked teeth while doing her best to prop up her already obvious bosom. “Anything else I can be gettin’ you, Mister?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes in a manner that suggesting she was offering more than just another bad ale.
“Nah. That’ll be all,” he mumbled in response, voice carrying the highland brogue that made others label him a foreigner, despite having lived in Thiasa all these years. The barmaid pouted, then flounced over to a set of far more inebriated customers where her efforts would yield more appreciation. Evan returned to his drink, but was interrupted once more by a series of shouts, followed by the splintering of wood. There was a moment of silence following the shattering of the chair on some poor bloke’s head, then all pandemonium broke loose. Bellows, shrieks, whoops and cries filled the air, along with the clanking of fallen tankards, breaking of crockery, and the occasional shattering window.
The nightly brawl had begun.
Evan took one last look down at his ale, and decided it really wasn’t worth it. Turning, he lifted the mug and brought it down on the back of the head of the man behind him, kicking him in the back of the knees as he did so. A chair leg swung past his ear, and someone caught Evan with a punch to the gut, which he returned with a swing that made something go crunch. The he was in the thick of it, punching, biting, kicking, and grabbing a hold of any object that could be used as a weapon – including other patrons. The blood was rushing in his ears now, and the fire in his veins. For the first time that day, Evan’s face broke into a smile as he threw a young conscript over a nearby table.
Thiasians couldn’t serve a cold ale to save their lives, but the tossers knew how to brawl!
What's the name of the Creator God the Ekaini worship?: ((yes))
Sergeant Evander Kincade
Great application. I love the detail in the personality, and I could gush about it all night, but I just want to RP...
