Earnshaw

The Hall

• Introductions are required

  "I don't care for striking, I can't take the trouble to raise my hand." - Wuthering Heights.

• Before we begin

  • Formal title: 7th Baron Earnshaw
  • Accepted variants: Lord Earnshaw, His Lordship
  • Unwise variants: Earn, Earny (saints preserve us, use that one if you dare)
  • Age: 31
  • Height: 5"11
  • Sexual orientation: Indifferent, classified as bisexual, apt to flirt with anything which exhibits signs of life.

• Idle gossip

  Nature
  Morose, bitterly humored and gratingly apathetic. Otherwise strapped, buttoned and neatly tied into the splendidly convincing guise of respectability. A gentleman on the glittering surface, but didn't mother warn you that looks could be deceptive? Earnshaw is in his heart a lonely soul, seldom found in the company of others, seldom making effort to seek it for himself. His behavior is not dissimilar to a ghost, he haunts places that recall memories of better times, and those few who managed to find some lasting flicker of life inside so much char. Cruelly sarcastic, his reputation is that of a broken drunkard, beyond all the redemption and approval he once so desperately sought.
  
  Be wary of the clever tongue that readily talks its way into tender and forgiving hearts, only to gut and leave them as barren as its owners soul.
  
  Interests
  A sharp fencer, although much more light footed and agile in his youth. An exceptionally lucky gambler, and good with cards. Deft fingertips that were born to flit across the ivory and tenderly breath out the most somber and heart breaking of piano pieces. No longer do they touch the only instrument, the only vessel for his sorrows.
  
  Drives and desires
  Anything which is not now, nor never ever will be his. That which can be gained easily is without merit, everything must be fought for to be of any worth. Whilst not a fighter in any sense of the word, he will pursue without a wavering loss of interest until the game is lost or won. Provoking verbal and physical aggression, raising tempers, and gaining the odd fist to the face also appears to be a hobby. His material comforts include copious amounts of alcohol, piles of books, late night storms and lonesome walks through the countryside.
  
  Wretched, just wretched
  Earnshaw hates losing, although it happens only too frequently. And being touched, especially by those he does not know, is repugnant to him. Earnshaw is quick to instigate physical contact, but only if he is first to the post. Nicknames grate him, restraint in any manner infuriates him and perhaps is his only real terror. Attack to his attire is viewed with more pain that split skin, it is of exceptional importance.
  
  Good breeding
  He is a rather scrawny and underfed example of Coyote. And while he may boast a lineage purer than a royal Corgi, the exceptionally long tail and odd colouration leaves it open to speculation. Thankfully any disputes over his breeding are quickly forgotten due to his elegant baring, and graceful, although sadly flawed movement. His poised and disheveled nobility has always made an attractive case, slender necked and long fingered to mirror all those oil portraits he sat for long ago.
  
  Unsightly marks
  Earnshaw has a substantial piece of flesh missing from the left ear, which affords him a look of danger he finds only too appealing. This is the only wound that never causes him aggravation, but concealed beneath layers of finery a network of scars and whip lacerations speak of a life lost to slavery. There is a deeper wound to his left leg, a cap upon irreparably damaged muscle and tissue which grieves in winter months, and causes that leg to stiffen and hobble most unbecomingly.
  
  A curious fellow
  Prone to suffer from dreadful insomnia derived from hellish night terrors and sleep paralysis. So unhappy is the coyotes sleeping patterns he scarcely visits his chamber for rest, and can find no comfort in pillows and darkness. In stressful situations, he will assault his clothing with nervous plucking and unnecessary readjustment. Earnshaw never eats in the public eye, and seldom consumes food at the best of times. His habits are the scars left from his time in slavery, he does not speak of them.
  
  Lordly duties
  Neglected. Without a purpose and with no desire to strive for one. The heir to a once grand and prestigious estate, left to crumble under neglect and dust whilst 'His Lordship' is out draining funds on alcohol and gambling. His debauched lifestyle has often fallen under scrutiny, but Earnshaw now believes that ruin is foretold in his stars... and he watches his luxury diminish with unfeeling eyes. The foul stains and whispers of prior slavery and imminent debtors prison tear chunks out of his social reputation, but he no longer possess the ability to care.