Profile of Kvothe

The common canine coat is well varnished on the soldier's shoulders, polished to a perfect military shine. Smooth colors wash from one extreme to the other, a natural medley of greys, creams, and whites, interspersed with brighter highlights of russet, gold, and tawny. The array is pleasing to the eye, symmetrical and succumbing to a pointed gradient from dark to light. The color of his blood is evident in the smooth lines of his figure, in the tell-tale taint of amethyst in the bi-colored blue of his oceanic eyes.

He speaks with an aristocratic accent that is uncommon in the army's rank and file, and holds himself upright with an innate sense of nobility. His bearing is balanced between strength and grace, and he moves with the bold assurance of an accomplished duelist. Neither hulking nor lanky, neither massive nor delicate, he is well formed and well proportioned, standing at 35" in height and weighing near 140lbs.

He is ash and roses. He is the cold kiss of steel. He is the reflection cast on the surface of well-polished porcelain. He is the guiding hand in the dark, and a voice of reason in the midst of madness. His is the kiss of costly velvet beneath rusted iron armor.

Kvothe is the chameleon of court, called upon to navigate both politics and the battlefield in turn. A knight of the realm first and foremost, he is noble in both word and deed, though his motives are often disparaged by those who question the taint of his blood. He has grown a thick skin in response to such vitriolic whispers, however, and courtly mannerisms come naturally to all those who return such courtesy in kind. He is a champion of the weak and the downtrodden - and he is not wholly ignorant of the irony inherent in that stance.

Generally considered a thoughtful, genteel man, Kvothe nevertheless acts with stern competence when it comes to the defense of king and country. Patient but exacting, he is also industrious and hardworking, and he asks nothing of his men that he is not willing and able to give of himself.

A bastard son to high nobility, Kvothe might have been poised to inherit the throne...had he been born on the right side of the bedsheets. Alas, that fate was dashed upon conception, and crushed beyond the shadow of a hope after House Herondale rose to power. Happily relinquished by his mother - a Highlander courtesan - Kvothe spent his formative months on the mainland as a by-blow of the royal household, granted a baseline level of education and an introduction to courtly etiquette. When he was old enough to join the Army, he was quickly enlisted as a common footsoldier - partly to keep him out from underfoot, but also partly to offset some of the dishonor inherent in his birth. Kvothe, eager to prove himself both loyal and worthy, threw himself into his new duties with desperate aplomb.

His competence quickly propelled him up the ranks. Spiteful whispers of preference and favoritism followed him at every promotion, but his skills quickly put lie to the rumors that plagued his ascension. He was adopted and legitimized by House Immortalis - his father's House - when he began to show genuine promise as a Captain. Now, he wears the rank of Colonel like a badge of pride, hard-won and ruinous though it was to earn. He is unexpectedly popular among the "riff-raff" and "misfits" of the army - those who are not expected to amount to much, but who often surprise their superiors under Kvothe's stern, but fair, leadership.