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The second child of six, Rymarr Lyonesse grew up in the Oathlands. Son to a noble lord and lady, vassals to House Valardin. His life has always been one of mild hardship and none too few tragedies. Whether the untimely death of a relative, strife brought by conflict which has exacted numerous costs among his kin, investments turned sour, or any other number of tragedies which have befallen the Lyonesse family over the decades. Whether hardship derived by purpose, squiring to a Sir Jak Whitemane in his youth or through the misfortune suffered by his family. Among the family it is simply called The Curse. Whether or not such a curse was true, there is some credit to the ideal at least. Whether it is from children dying young, adults being killed in battle, foodstuffs rotting at the most inopportune time, or something as simple as a much-needed business deal falling through; the Lyonesse family has experienced it over the past few decades. Throughout this history Rymarr was never destined to lead his family; such a duty had fallen on the shoulders of his older brother, Marcorr. He was expected instead work and work hard, to make something of himself in hopes that he could serve the family in whatever way which it may need. Eventually, over the years as a squire, Rymarr became a knight. Serving his family alongside their liege, House Valardin. He has fought hard, always to prove to the world that his family's name is not cursed and that they are both relevant and worthy of praise. Nor will the name of Lyonesse simply fade into extinction without a mighty roar to precede it. When his older brother died, kicked by an unruly horse; Rymarr was thrust into the position of guiding his beleaguered family into the future while still maintaining his vows of knighthood. A difficult road lay ahead, one which would no doubt be fraught with dangers both physical, and sometimes far more damning: social. With the Lyonesse family struggling to stay afloat in their darkest hours, an offer came to Rymarr. An offer to join with the King's Own, an invitation to join with the personal guard of the king himself. Much to the surprise of many of his family and allies, Rymarr accepted. An heir was name prior to the Marquis of Tristfell March’s abdication was chosen in the form of his younger sister, the newly minted Marquessa Demura Lyonesse. For the King's Own exact a heavy price for any young nobleman; foregoing one's title, family, and loyalties to all but the Silver Sword's mandate. Life soon became a long string of training, patrols, sleepless nights, and further duties. It all changed in the form of the King’s Rest, with Rymarr being left at Crownguard Tower to carry out his duties to the Crown in Arx while King Alaric IV departed Arx with a large retinue; whether lucky or unlucky in that regard, is often a matter of debate for the Rymarr himself as it meant he was safe and alive in the capital. When King Alaric Grayson IV arrived returned to Arx in a far different state and the political climate began to ramp up, Rymarr held fast to his loyalties and his vow to the Crown. The safety of the Crownbearer, and even the palace itself at times, became an obsession for the king’s knight. There he invested himself fully into his duties as one of the royal guard. He encountered a great deal, oversaw much, and was present for many historical occasions during his time in the King’s Own and it did grant him a great deal of insight into the political workings of the Compact; whether for good or ill. Duty remained the motivating factor for Rymarr, but his duties changed when Lord Commander Leona Thrax of the King’s Own decided that she must attend to some of her own duties, beyond the conditions of her rank as the leader of the Hundred. A ceremony later and Rymarr took up the sword, carried by many Lord Commanders of the Sovereign’s Own Royal Guard before himself, and assumed the mantle of leadership for the royal guard. After that his obsession seemed to become even greater with it being rumored that he slept very little, while allegedly keeping himself honed and focused on his sworn duties through sheer determination, liberal applications of various stimulants, the desire not to fail in his protective duties to the Crown, and what has often been affectionately referred to as ‘Watch Stew’. During this time he became something of an unofficial student of his mentor, Duke Gabriel Bisland, the acting regent of King Alaric Grayson IV. Hours were spent discussing the many aspects of warfare, leadership, and how to conduct a successful campaign against an enemy. The change came abruptly however. Rumors of a foot chase through the palace with the Lord Commander attempting to run down an elusive palace servant, whisperings of an assassination attempt, some said mixed loyalties, some uttered about visions and prophecies, and yet others simply shrugged off the sudden change in Rymarr Lyonesse’s duties. Having served for years in the King’s Own and as their very own Lord Command for nearly a year, Rymarr was suddenly no longer counted among the One Hundred. Having gone from Sir Rymarr of the King’s Own and abruptly back to Lord Rymarr Lyonesse, only a few short months before the Siege of Arx by the Army of Silence. A few short months later and he married, transitioning from House Lyonesse to become the Marquis-Consort of House Deepwood, married to its own Marquessa Samantha Deepwood. It is there Rymarr has been since his marriage, serving the House of Old Oak as the ruling Marquessa’s martial arm. His life has been one of warfare and battle, whether against the tribes of the Abandoned who threatened some lands of the Compact, to his encounters during his time as a knight of the King’s Own, the siege of Arx itself, leading a cavalry charge under the collective banner of House Grayson at Farhaven, and more. Rymarr has immersed himself in warfare and always seem to come out on the other side, unfathomably unscathed. For now.

The look of a man from the Oathlands, Rymarr possesses tanned skin and short, scruffy, dark brown hair that often seems to suffer from a serious case of helmet-head. Intense blue eyes seem to perpetually watch his surroundings through faintly squinted eyelids. His angled jawline is covered by a neatly trimmed dark brown beard which has began to become infiltrated by silver-white hairs in a tuft of facial hair at his chin. While much of his features appear to be handsome, his nose is slightly askew which may give some inclination that it has been broken and reset a couple of times in what appears to be the roughly two and a half decades of life. He is tall, standing at just over six feet in height and has strived to maintain a muscular body which speaks of a physical regimen that is almost religiously followed. The hands of the man call a number of calluses their own and a number of nicks and faint scars can be found across his hands. He frequently seems to carry himself with a noble bearing, chin elevated in an imperious manner, and his shoulders frequently squared. The mouth of the man is often set in a flat line and seems to effortlessly convey either mild cheer or open disdain with only the slight twitch of his cheeks.

When one is a Lyonesse it becomes routine to take everything as serious as possible. For Rymarr Lyonesse, this is no doubt a fact of life. He is an intense man, unaccustomed to good fortune seeming to befall him. Often he can found watching the world around himself with an intensity that speaks for such a history. Constantly alert for the next tragedy, misfortune, or dire situation to present itself; all the better to actively avoid it or even engage the newly risen spectre. As a result of frequently being onguard for the next disaster, it has resulted in Rymarr becoming a rather serious man. While he may smile and laugh as much as the next average once-nobleman, he seems to action to words. In possession of a sometimes grave demeanor, it can result in his being viewed as cold or distant. Despite it all, he seems to carry himself with pride and noble bearing. With a chin often slightly lifted to the world, he carries his pride in his chin and squared shoulders. Both slightly lifted, as though defiant against the misfortune which has seemingly plagued his lineage.