Sir Perrach Seiler
Gentlemen fighting are full of honor, chivalry, and shit. Men fighting, on the other hand, are full of spit, blood, and shit. Gentlemen or no, you're all still full of shit.
Social Rank: 7
Concept: Salty Knight
Marital Status: single
Hair Color: brown
Eye Color: brown
Description: Rugged and angular, there's something about the persistent stubble that dogs Perrach's face that suggests he is permanently on the border of disreputable. His lips are thin but mobile, expressive, beneath a nose of gently aquiline, noble cast. His eyes are bright and sharp, brown in hue, and subtly almondine in shape beneath the stark angles of his brow. His hair is worn long, waves of brown with just a thread or two of premature gray to lighten them falling about his ears and jaw. His long-limbed, narrow leanness makes him look even taller than he already might, and there's little question of the sturdy strength in those broad shoulders.
Personality: His ground state that of dry humor layered over temper, Perrach is a sharp, clever man with a chip on his shoulder. He rarely seems to be taking anything entirely seriously out of the heat of battle and struggles with social nicety. He has a finely honed sense of the ridiculous and a tendency to sharpen his tongue on anybody nearby who irritates him. His core decency is solid, grounded in ideals of service and loyalty, but might come as a surprise to people who he casually makes fun of. He always wants action, and his inner drive is as much for accomplishment as it is for recognition. His pride is no small thing, but it is a pride grounded in deeds, so he thinks it superior to baser vanities. He can be absolutely hilarious -- presuming you aren't his target.
Background: As a youth, Perrach showed promise with weapons, and his father -- a man-at-arms for a noble household -- was all the ready to push him forward as soon as he was old enough to swear into service. He was the only son of a mostly daughtered house, and his family was hungry for honor.
Perrach was a fresh, raw boy crewing a ship of the fleet. He was nineteen when he followed Prince Donrai Thrax to crush the Tyde Rebellion, and distinguished himself mainly by fighting with wild abandon. He earned his first scars, then, too, and at length, his knighthood, distinguishing himself by quick thinking abovedecks as much as by bloodshed. Thrax's waters are rarely without incident, and he was a restless young warrior, sailing in search of sea monsters or glory or who knew what. He grew more jaded over time, spending months at a time at sea, and finding himself far removed from the concerns of land folk when he came back. Sworn as a knight for House Thrax, he served, and fought, and bled, and killed, and he loved it.
Perhaps it is his ten years long service of the family that has made it harder for Perrach to hold his tongue, but over the past year or more, he has begun to speak his mind more and more often, regardless of his rank. He was never a long-tempered man, but as threats grow surrounding his home and all the lands of the Compact, he grows restive and less tolerant of what he perceives as "nonsense".