Lexir Pravus

Lexir Pravus
Social Rank	3
Fealty	Pravus
House	Pravus
Gender	Male
Age	30
Religion	Pantheon
Vocation	Soldier
Height	6'2"
Hair Color	Sable
Eye Color	Dark Brown
Skintone	Golden Olive
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Description

The thick, soft sable of his hair tousles in curls to the flare of his shoulders, rich with tawny notes. His sloe eyes, warm and velvet-dark, gleam with a cognac sheen beneath lashes that brush his cheeks in soot. He is touched leonine, from the curve of high cheekbones to the scruff along the sculpt of his jawline, his nose sloped to a rounded tip. Full lips part to jaggedly edged canines. Sun-soaked in undertone, his olive complexion glows gold at the column of his throat. His long, lean body coils with muscle, cut from marble and refined to steel, the mark of a lash continued down his back in a lattice of scarring. Despite gruff calluses, a grace lingers in the strength of his hands and the flow of his fingers.

Personality

Lexir projects a calm, measured confidence - he knows what he's good at, what he's bad at, and what he's only decent at, and he acts accordingly. This can occasionally lapse into bull-headed stubbornness and arrogance, when challenged on one of the thing he just KNOWS he's good at, though he can usually calm himself down from it before too long. He's fairly easy-going and friendly as a rule however, comfortable with all sorts, willing to lend a hand or ready with a joke. A love of novelty and adventure has never left him, and sometimes the interests that he pursues with the same determination and zeal with which he defends his believed ability are spurred by frankly, nothing but whimsy. A patient and pensive man lies beneath this confident, sometimes goofy exterior however, an intelligence that understands that there are times for frippery and times for ruthlessness, that sees the necessity for intrigue and manipulation, however distasteful.

Background

Lexir never had particularly high expectations set for him - his branch of the Pravus was particularly fecund, and he had no shortage of more skillful, or at least, ambitious, siblings for his parents to pin their hopes to. And so he grew up wild in luscious Setarco, a princeling with precious few duties or obligations to anyone but himself. It would be easy for someone in his position to become spoiled, to be lulled into a simpering stupidity by the benefits of his birthright - fortunately, that didn't happen.

Adventure was in his blood. Curiosity mixed with intelligence - this too could spoil, could easily turn someone cruel, but the young Pravus lord evaded that fate. As much of his youth as he could he spent out in the city or in the surrounding wilderness, exploring, mingling, doing whatever he could to satisfy his thirst for new and novel experiences. He ran (incognito) with gutter gangs while slumming in the backalleys of Setarco, drank himself into stupors, and experimented with exotic substances. He learned to fight, to sail, his letters and his numbers, dabbling in a myriad of skills but rarely every progressing past novice-level mastery - there was always something new.

A few years before his majority, Lexir slipped away from home with a couple of his trusted comrades and friends and disappeared into the Setarco to embark on their grandest adventure yet. Where they went, what they did, and what they saw remains a subject of conjecture and speculation - in the end, only half the number that set out returned, some years later. A less carefree version of the young noble returned, one more tempered, more hardened, more thoughtful than the one that had set out. Even after his return to the public sphere, he did not linger long, vanishing in long expeditions like the first to parts unknown.

But now, he's in Arx, the wayward nobleman's presence asked, nay, /commanded/, to be in the heart of power in Arvum as the stirrings of something great rumble across the continent. Who knows? Maybe he'll have learned something useful in all of his travels.