Name: Vincent Durand – ‘Le Serpent’
Age: Mid 20’s
Affiliation: Templar Order
Appearance: Not many can say that Vincent isn't attractive, it is a gift that he uses/abuses to get what he wants. He is a balance between elegant and rugged, treading that thin line and not swaying too far into general aristocratic effeminacy or masculine bravado.
Another thing to note is that his face - in some odd way - is capable of looking very mean or extremely generous, but always sensual. He has an aura of strength but in an almost predatory fashion - many of the ladies at court with whom he would dance would always come away from such brief couplings with a feeling of being on the verge of falling into some kind of dangerous trap, the feeling of exhilaration and survival; that they had been rabbits skirting at the edge of a fox hole with two savage eyes upon them that had chosen not to bite.
He stands at 6'4" and has a broad, athletic build that is corded with muscle from near a lifetime of vanity. However, the muscle isn't overly obnoxious but he's confident in its quality nonetheless, and for good reason.
His hair is dark and reflects the amount of care that he often puts into his appearance when he isn't on a job. How else can one be expected to be courting noblewomen or attending opulent soirées?
Personality: To most, he is charming, elegant, witty and sociable – the type of man with something magnetic about his person without drawing too much attention when he doesn’t desire such. Well educated and with a sophisticated manner, most would not even hazard a guess that an dark, manipulative and venomous creature was lurking beneath that well groomed façade; ready to strike with surgical precision and watch from the safe distance of disconnection as he corrodes anything honest or good about the world around him. He is a creature of debauchery, a vampiric parasite of lechery and avarice and a monster of depravity wearing the skin of an aristocrat. Yet none are the wiser, having perfected the balance between man and monster so acutely that they have since merged with beautifully sickening cohesion. So disgustingly refined. So horribly eloquent. So grotesquely charming. He will devour you. A carnivore incarnate.
Favourite Weapons: His wit
Strengths; Incredibly intelligent – Polyglot – A social ‘butterfly’ – Skilled with knives
Weaknesses: Lover not a fighter – A noble in a volatile revolutionary state – His pride – His narcissism
Background/Biography: Born into a relatively wealthy family in Toulouse, Vincent Durand was born and raised wanting for absolutely nothing. He was privileged and taught that whatever he had the ability to take he could with little to no consequence and should, as who else but one of his education and standing would know how best to utilise it. This was an attitude, an entitlement which he carried through the majority of his life, regardless of how concealed it was, that anything is for the taking and open to the seizing.
His father pressed upon him the need for profession, which was considered odd amongst the noble elite as many were rich from blood as opposed to trade and had no need for occupation as they’re family had gold running through their veins as far back as any roster would reach. Wealth and status barred Vincent from manual labour and thus he enrolled in a medical college in Paris, frequently moving to and fro prestigious European colleges of medicine and, once fully recognised with top honours, returned to Paris a physician (a surgeon to be precise); a skilled, wealthy bachelor with a close circle of ‘friends’ and more desirable than ever to any young heiresses. Yet he found no desire in him to settle with any of the ladies with whom he briefly courted as, like a hunter with prey, he only found the pleasure when the poor animal he chased was alive with a frantically beating heart. Marriage, as he thought of it, would be like a lion living beside a dead kill until it died itself. How revolting such a prospect was to one as lascivious as he.
No, rather he pursued other such paths to give some kind of firm rooting in the world he often seemed content to observe as if caught in a jar or exotic tank. He found such a thing in the Knights Templar, an order whose interests did align with his own as the uneducated rabble found it progressive in some way to howl and batter at any gate behind which was someone with more than two francs to rub together. It wasn’t always a perfect fit, but name dropping and the skills which he possessed put Vincent in a position he relished holding, the position of them needing him more than he them. An extra sliver of protection perhaps as he heard the slick hiss of the guillotine from across the square and another head held aloft.
How unrefined. But he admired the efficiency.
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