Character Name: Gustave Claudremot
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 18
Class: Ruined Minstrel
Alignment: NE
Deity: Karissa
Description:
Gustave is a charming young man with feathery, strawberry-blonde hair sweeping down just past his ears. A short goatee grows flawlessly into the moustache that rests above his upper lip. The musician's pale features are in stark contrast to the deep red of his lips and captivating hazel of his eyes. His musculature is frail, as though he hasn't seen a full meal in his entire life. The brand of genocise is burned into the back of his right hand.

Bio:
The quill and I have never been close companions; estranged acquaintances at best. Yet here I sit, ghastly-white parchment spread before me like some quivering virgin waiting to be defiled in cold, black ink.

Anything to stave off boredom.

It was by the snapping of my last violin string that I came to begin work on scribing this particular event, if for no other purpose than to pass the time. I should quite hope its contents are never read, lest I find my neck in a hempen embrace. Still, I write.


The Unfortunate Affair Regarding Emilles Stiphon

For all of Count Delorin's mistresses, and numerous they were, Emilles was the axle around which his heart turned. Daylight was said to peek through the clouded Genocian skies just to glimpse upon her radiance. More than the Count took notice of Emilles' beauty, myself being one of them. When ships would arrive from Chail bearing gems from the northern dwarf mines, she would be found eagerly perusing the market for fine jewelry. It was on one of these fanciful excursions that I first laid eyes on her. She was wearing a royal purple tea-gown with black ribbons encircling her at the waist, sleeves, and just above the ankles. Her slender, pale features were soft on the eyes and hard on the heart. Straw-blonde locks of finely-curled hair framed her perfect head in a cowl of gold.

I knew I must have her.

The bow slipped effortlessly across the strings like water on glass. It was just one note, but it caught her ear. I played the chord again, glancing down to the violin in my hands before looking up to lock eyes with her. I offered a disarming smile, and set the tune to match with a gentle, teasing adagio. She was drawn to the sound, and through the sound to me. Children danced and spun in the street. Passersby stopped and craned their necks in my direction. This particular melody was harmless, but my intentions were most impure when it came to Emilles Stiphon. She asked me how I had learned to play such beautiful music. I replied, "With practice...". It was partially true. The other part had been so supernatural and bizarre that she would never have believed me. So I said it anyway. "...and a deal with the Devil". We shared a laugh as the song quickened in tempo.

Our conversation drifted to her outing. It was there I learned that she was in the service of the Count. After we eluded the audience I had gathered quite by accident, she began to confide in me, albeit abashedly. She had originally been a dancer, performing in the townships of Tendril for modest coin and whatever the kitchen was serving that day. When the Legion had conquered Tendril, Delorin, a high-ranking officer of the Legion at the time, took notice of her. During the army's retreat back to Genocise, he made sure that the young Emilles was in his convoy as part of the spoils stolen from the lesser kingdom. He had taken her as his headmistress, and every evening, during supper, he made her dance for him. She confessed that she had been happy to perform at first, but his appetites for her dance had since turned to lechery. She dared not refuse his advances. Count Delorin's rage was unquenchable once ignited. She wept, and like a gentleman, I gave her my handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes. I told her that I had to depart, but would meet her each morning in this same quiet corner of the city.

She gave no answer, merely blushing and changing the topic, but the next morning we were together again. Emilles found solace in my company, my music, and eventually in my embrace. She would not make it to Count Delorin's tower in time for dinner or dancing. Indeed, she would not leave my home for three days. On the morning of the fourth, she ventured out to look over that day's jewelry selection and was immediately seized by one of the Count's men. They escorted her to his tower where she was, no doubt, subject to cruelties beyond count or measure. Oft she would stare down from the window, high up on the tower's face. She seemed to live in that window; a prisoner. Never again would Emilles be allowed to leave the steely clutches of her captor. Not by any conventional means, perhaps. Yet, by Karissa's hand, I would set this caged bird free.

Fortune had placed the Cathedral of Dispair with its grizzly, black spire, directly across from the Count's tower. A generous donation allowed me use of the temple's decorative spire, and that night I found myself staring across into the curtained window of my poor Emilles. Placing the Devil's very own violin into the nape of my neck, I cocked my head and drew the bow across the strings. It was the chord that had first drawn her attention that day in the square. The curtains were flung open, and a confused Emilles looked across from her window, squinting at the darkness to see the outline of my figure. She smiled again, with all the beauty and grace I had seen from her in the market. But it disappeared quickly. She knew I was not there to save her life. How could I?

That night, the Cathedral of Dispair would live up to its namesake. I closed my eyes and played the bow across violin's strings in a melody of woe. The notes writhed through the air, wracked with all the sorrow of love lost. At first, Emilles could only shake her head in disbelief as the courante stole her will to live, all in three-four time. Then her eyes glazed over. I could feel the Devil's cool breath on my neck, Her fingers slipping over mine as I played Emilles' heartstrings. Just as the tragedy of Emilles' life was seeming to play to a close, the deceptive cadence was renewed. There would be no joy for her in this life. And I could see that she understood it. Raising to her toes, she spun across the floor of her room like an angel on ice. Every step and leap was poetry that no quill could ever capture. Tragedy spun in her pirouettes and screamed out in her adagios. I could not pull my eyes away from her, not even when she leapt from the window, diving headlong to the cobblestone streets far below. Emilles' song ended with her, and I shall play it for no other.

The funeral was small and private. Count Delorin was too buried in his bitterness and grief to give a eulogy, leaving that bit of business to the priest. Melivarian preachers always had such a bizarre outlook on death. The ceremony was quite brief, with no relatives there to mourn Emilles. I, of course, dared not speak or even show myself with the Count's guardsmen around. It was not until night fell over the cemetery that I emerged, shovel in hand. She would dance for me again, on that night, and many more to follow.

We, like children, are always so willing to break someone else's toy. Especially when it is so highly coveted.