Curse of the Crimson Throne
Marcel de Germande
Taldan warrior, third son of a third son
A little under six foot, blonde hair and cold blue eyes, Marcel de Germande cuts a striking figure. He carries his weaponry with a casual air, with little of the rigidity common to professional warriors. His breast plate and unusual bec-de-corbin carry nods to the arms of house Germande, his arming clothes embroidered with the form of a cockatrice.
Marcel is often curt and to the point when discussing business, or dealing with the peasantry, but amongst the nobility has the practised air of sophistication and grace common amongst his peers. He has little time for the uneducated lower classes, but even less time for conniving nobles who abuse their position for personal gain.
Ultimately, Marcel seeks personal glory, and is beholden to no ideals other than killing the biggest monsters possible, and basking in whatever glory and fame this martial prowess brings.
Marcel de Germande was born into the Taldan nobility and raised with all the privileges associated. The son of a relatively minor branch of the great Germande family, he broke the mould of his family by being somewhat competent as a warrior. Unfortunately, being the third son, such abilities were overlooked, with his two elder brothers favoured for marriage and positions of responsibility. His father finally nudged him towards a position in the church of Abadar, a position Marcel had no intention of taking up.
After months of pressure from his family, it was only a chance encounter in a packed inn that finally provided the young warrior with the opportunity he sought. He struck up conversation with a grizzled Taldan Pathfinder, returning home after a long stretch mapping the inner regions of Varisia. The tales of fierce barbarian champions and ravening monsters, coupled with tales of fallen empires and endless treasures, gave young Marcel the idea that adventuring would be rather more entertaining than spending his life as a man of the cloth, tending a flock of ill-educated peasantry.
Ever a man of action, Marcel was gone within the week, booking passage on a Andorani trader, he grabbed his armour, his trusty polearm, and as much gold as he could carry and headed west, for fortune and glory.