Lord Amadeus

**Character Name:** Lord Carmichael (Though most know him by other names, there is always a title placed before it: Baron Mizagoran, Viceroy Vigenzan, Prince Korigarrus, and the list goes on)

### Background

In Faltus, personal possession is a concept few understand. The Carmichael family was not meant for this communal lifestyle, particularly the eldest son, Lord Carmichael VIII who, at an early age, internalized their mantra, ‘We protect what is ours’.

Still, one must function within the environment one is placed, so a young Lord Carmichael attended the lavish parties and festivals central to life in Faltus. His natural charm and good looks gained him entry into the inner circles of the Matriarchs, and he found himself on the favored list of many young and influential ladies.

As the eldest of eight and bearer of the family name, he was expected to care for the others—to elevate them into a position of status, but financial status in Faltus is non-existent, and though he could attain a level of comfort through his own charms, the lack of upward mobility wore on him. He courted women with influence more aggressively and looked for every advantage he could derive from these relationships, if only to appease his family’s endless appetite for luxury and renown. When the husband of one of his conquests appeared at the family home full of righteous rage, it seemed Carmichael’s luck had run out, but as he backed away in terror from the man with the cudgel, a dormant power rose within him and without thinking, he lashed out flinging fire from his fingertips.

When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the man but blackened bones and ashes.

Lord Carmichael and his family were horrified at first, but the shock wore off quickly and the gears of Carmichael’s exceptional mind began to click. He practiced and learned more subtle ways to use his newfound powers, but even as he developed his abilities, learning to enhance his natural charms, to craft images that weren’t there and to manipulate the very forces of nature, his past crept back to haunt him. Lady Nifegrassia, the wife of his first victim, was well connected and when Carmichael would not willingly take her husband’s place as her new house boy, authorities began to ask questions. The Carmichael family was forced to leave their ancestral home, but not before Lady Nifegrassia suffered an unfortunate accident.

As they always did, Lord Carmichael’s siblings blamed him for their woes, and tasked him with the financial care of the whole family. Given their knowledge of his powers and his crimes, Lord Carmichael was left with little choice but to take on the responsibility of provider for this pack of privileged brats whose lives had been spent lounging on couches in smoky pleasure houses tossing his money about without a care.

He settled the family in the cosmopolitan city of Ra-Dar, capital city of Nov Ra. Equipped with a new name and trumped-up history, Lord Carmichael found more lucrative sponsorship in the moneyed circles of Ra-Dar. Through charm and deception, he easily elevated his family into the lifestyle they expected. Yet the more he gave, the more they took and though he hustled his way through the fortunes of dozens of ladies, it was never enough.

Eventually, the well ran dry, his new name earned a notoriety that made further conquests impossible, and the suspicions that forced him from Faltus resurfaced in new forms. But Lord Carmichael could play the long game as well as the short, and when it came time to leave, he cashed in his ‘accounts’, leaving more than one body in his wake.

And so it went for several years. The family found a new city, Lord Carmichael took on a new name and persona, and feasted on the fickleness of high society. His list of tarnished aliases grew too long to count, and the lines of age deepened in his sharp features. His personas changed from dashing young noble, to wealthy widower, to old, learned scholar whom many would still call handsome, but always qualified the comment with, “For his age.”

And still the family bred and begged and lounged in abject sloth. Now a dozen nephews and nieces have joined his siblings at the trough, feeding off the things he is forced to do. He grows tired and bitter and only lives for the rush of the next score, the next conquest to make him feel young and alive. But time catches us all, and it looms over Lord Carmichael’s shoulder, its shadow lengthening more with each of an old man’s labored breaths.

### Affiliations

It is fair to say that Lord Carmichael is familiar with dozens of courts and hundreds of nobles throughout the continent of Eld-Planoak and may even have connections overseas. His knowledge of politics and relationships is vast; however, most of his contacts know him by different names and he is notorious in many regions. Any attempt to utilize the connections from his past will undoubtedly uncover nasty secrets, open old wounds, and possibly bring old crimes to light.

### NPCs of Note

We can create a family tree and populate it with names. It will consist of seven brothers, five to six wives (there are bound to be one or two confirmed bachelors in the brood), a dozen + offspring (nieces and nephews) and maybe a few children starting a new generation of parasites. None of the younger generation bear Carmichael’s name, as he has no children, and though he hates being responsible for the whole family, his narcissism prevents him from naming a new patriarch among his nephews (the family has always been a patriarchy in defiance of the matriarchal power structure of Faltus, their native land).

### Psychology

At his core, Carmichael craves two things above all else: Security and recognition of his greatness which he feels he has been denied. He identifies security with having a family and as toxic as his is, he has a twisted kind of loyalty toward them. They know his nature, something that is both comforting and unnatural. Though he would never admit it, he longs to remove the mask feels like he always wears.

His need for recognition comes out in his outward arrogance (his insistence on people using a title before his name is a byproduct of this need). He will use this arrogance as a defense mechanism against anyone who gets too close to him.

As he ages, he has begun to desire something else—a way out. The endless cycle of using up marks and moving on wears on him and his age, not to mention his growing bitterness, is making it more and more difficult to continue living in the manner he is accustomed. He’s tired.

### Season 1 Episode 1:

Lord Carmichael is destitute. Not destitute in the way normal Edwed are destitute; he still finds ways to keep himself living in the semblance of luxury, but as his family grows and his scores shrink, he is finding it difficult to keep up.

Oh, how he longs for the old days when he could pick and choose, sweeping beautiful ladies of the court off their feet, but now he seeks the widows and the spinsters with their bad breath and cackling laughs and he smiles and keeps his eyes on their jeweled rings and necklaces, while subtly dulling their minds with his sorcery.

He calls himself a wizard and almost believes he is one, but he knows deep down wizards earn their power through careful study while his is the luck of the draw, something in his blood. The only things he studies are habits and soft spots, the characteristics that tell him if he can take a woman’s money or not.

He is in Jovn now where the prey are rich and fat, but everything is expensive here, and he must show wealth if he is to get next to wealth.

Still his family begs, and whines, and accuses, and still he acquiesces. However, a light has recently appeared in his life. Two nights ago, he met a young lady half his age at the exclusive Ball of Countess Gorachian, the hag he had intended to impress when he paid for an invitation.

He did not expect to meet Lady Marsalla, with her creamy gold skin smiled at him and her crimson eyes held a promise. He did not expect to draw her attention, to dance with her, and to keep her enthralled with his wit all evening. It has been so many years since a young and beautiful woman looked at him like she did.

He thought it a passing fancy, but the letter came this morning, calling him to meet her at a Villa on the west stretch, an area just outside the city where the private compounds of the filthy rich dot the pristine beach. His hands shake as he dons his best coat. It has been so long since he’s felt this way—so long that he ignores the nagging warning in his gut. *I’ve played so many. I won’t be played.*

No. Tonight he will live in the moment. Tonight, he will truly be Lord…*What name am I using again?*