Description
A disenchanted expression graces this man's beautiful face - his chiseled
nose, his full, frowning lips and his dark eyes that lament the boredom they
convey so well. His dark hair is long, but pulled back to reveal every inch
of his youthful beauty. Despite this obvious melancholy, he carries himself
with a sort of aristocratic pride. Yes, arrogance makes the air around him
thick - or is that the scent of the most fashionable perfume of the day?
Whatever it is, it lingers stubbornly. Bitterly, even, like the vague hint of
an acidic smile that threatens to crack his wall of angst.
Role
How the Girls' Tears Twinkle
Added Thu Sep 6 19:07:31 2007 at level 7:
A trail of tears leads away from the house in Seantryn Modan that once
belonged to young Lord Bazarov. And every day, he would trample them.
Starry-eyed young ladies would visit his place, filled with dreams of
marrying this handsome, rich noble. Oh, how they would want to hang off his
arm on the way to the next ball.
These fanciful illusions were usually dispeled in a few quick thrusts.
"Get out."
Invariably, they did. Some more quickly and quietly than others. Others found
themselves the subject of laughably pitiful stories. Bazarov told his tavern
friends about the one who screamed and went on about marriage. About her
virginity. She shattered one of his elven vases and vandalized one of his
paintings.
"'Ey Bazarov, how did Miss Lenderfeld treat ye last night?"
"She spat and wept, and even wet herself as a Magistrate of the Blood
Tribunal dragged her away," Bazarov replied. "A big, leaky mess, is all she
was."
"She spat and wept, and even wet herself as a Magistrate of the Blood
Tribunal dragged her away," Bazarov replied. "A big, leaky mess, is all she
was."
Furthermore, she wasn't brilliant. Far from a challenge. She gave it up
on command. She needed him (she even told him so).
He found this far from romantic.
He has found women who were less fazed by his beauty, and actually pretty
smart. But they were all far from beautiful themselves. And so Bazarov
angrily discarded woman after woman - not out of malice, but out of a growing
hopelessness. None were good enough for him, and it was likely that none
would be. At least here.
He would need to travel. Become royalty. But he would also need to do
something befitting of his status as a noble. He could become a soldier - an
officer - or he could join the Blood Tribunal and see the cities. Battle the
barbarians and savages. There was prestige and reward in that.
As Bazarov wrote a message to the Blood Tribunal Provost, he wondered if
these travels would finally lead him to one to on whom he couldn't ply his
will.
He hopes he finds someone strong and beautiful. Someone worthy of him.
Something to console him, aside from the tears of others.
It's been so lonely.
Maggots on a Leash
Added Sun Sep 16 21:31:03 2007 at level 26:
Most people will never amount to anything.
This is why Bazarov is bitter toward the girls he's dominated, and why he affords
little respect to criminals whom he would dominate easily. Even the majority of those
whom he protects are hardly worth their weight in leather.
While he keeps his distaste for others something of a secret, his sarcasm and seething
disgust occasionally bubble to the surface. In other words, no one is good enough for him.
And so Bazarov sees each patrol as a standing challenge: He hopes that someone, somehow
will prove their worth to him - whether it's a criminal with an admirably strong will, a
citizen with a keen ingenuity in the arts or sciences, or a woman with a beauty and wit
to match his own.
Until then, he'll do his grunt work the best he can. He'll keep those maggots on a leash.