Peter Savoy, third scion of the royal house Savoy.One would have a hard time classifying Peter as anything but a noble high-born. Not quite powerful enough to be the strong-chinned warlord out to conquer the world in the name of his dynasty yet far from being scrawny enough to be held into the clerical robes reserved for useless scions. Regaled from early age at the various echelons of knowledge needed for a future ruler by fine tutors, the royal prince is well educated. But all of that amounts to little, as his older sister is already married to a powerful family and his elder brother, the royal heir to the Crown of Aztelian are standing so far above this talented young man in the line of his dynasty, it was merely a question of what to do with him. Almost a superfluous addition to the royal family – yet his father (A man of great ambition, and some cunning) held it in his mind to make the best out of his son. Thus sending him for further training at the Righteous Lion order of Royal Knights for apprenticeship, suffice to say, Peter excelled at that as well. Donning then the red sash of his knighthood and the roaring mane of blond curls already gathering at the back of his head, the royal Scion set out for his journeys. Now held the sobriquet "The Righteous Prince" and claiming a much less pompous title as the royal ambassador for foreign lands. Currently at the age of twenty three, however, Peter Phillip Savoy-Arteru had done enough to earn himself some name and some fame. The bards of his home country had long been favoring a particularly memorable ballade about his fight with the northern barbarians from faraway lands. A quickly spread rumor that turned the young knight into the toast of the kingdom and himself chased by a myriad collection of bosomy and wealthy noblewomen hunting for a closer connection with the royal house. Well accustomed to fending off blades, Peter had little defense against rosy cheeks and rivulets of tears and it did not end too well for this young success. Seeing the equally myriad options for downfall, Peter asked for the advice of his mother and father after a particularly messy breakout session that had cost him more then just money but also something of a demotion from the ranks of a Knight-Commander and back to the lowly Knight-Errant. Now far more reserved in his choice of women, he remained ever the lively person, with erotic ballades now sang in honor of the blazing trail he had left at the beds of the Royal city. Rumors would have it he is well equipped for such tasks, at least as ready and as able as he is at war – and so, it is best to lock out the young ladies well away from his sight when he rides into town… As he rides down into the dales of a kingdom, however, Peter Savoy is something to look at – strapped to his back are both a shield and a sword of an excellent quality, reflective of the dawn's early sunlight. His famous mane of golden, curly tresses has been long shortened into something more viable for both fighting and traveling – for it is not in the likeness of Peter to be so ineffective. However, the man needs no such features to further embolden the sense of propriety about himself – standing no shorter then six feet tall and a few inches more, broad of shoulder with the built of a swordsman used to the weight of twin tools at the same time. Muscles stretch and contract at a graceful dance under his skin as he dismounts his noble steed, petting the beast on her nose with a gentle, silk-gloved hand. He has the air of a nobleman, with the high cheekbones and well chiseled chin about him. Green, sparkling emeralds set under deep furrows of a thinking scholar and always a hint of laughter at the tip of his mouth. Peter's skin shows the deep mixture of a warrior's life at the edge of a rural kingdom, sporting a mash of tiny scars that created a darker complexion then it is regular for his people; however, it has also burnished his skin to a glowing degree, almost shining in the pale sunlight. Unto him is almost a halo of kindness, the golden knight dressed in browns and pale white – only the blood red sash of his order crossing his chest standing out. Etched as it is with the symbols of lions threaded gold into the crimson silk. Reserved for Queen_Sorina. A Daemonfall Character. |
As PredAs Prey
| Whisper | Always/Love |
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Never/Dislike | While I am whisper friendly, it would seem prudent to note that his character has been built for a specific game. Otherwise, consult the Daemonfall profile for further information about the player. |