Robert se présenta devant le beurocrate, mandat d'engagement de la Compagnie toujours en cours. Une main qui empoignait son journal à peu près avec excitation au sujet de la procédure. Il travaillait depuis des années pour en faire quelques-uns pour servir ses compatriotes lurish. Qu'est-ce qui fonctionne mieux que d'aider à se développer?
-- Oui, monsieur, Malcolm est mon père. Nous avons été hors de contact, je ne savais pas qu'il servait encore. Peut-être qu'il fera partie de la Compagnie."
L'homme continua d'examiner ses papiers, murmurant davantage d'administrations, avant de présenter Robert sa main dans l'acceptation. Robert sauta en avant pour prendre sa main, l'excitation s'allume dans ses yeux. Il avait été assez confiant dans la possibilité de son acceptation, mais en fait, il a entendu quelque chose d'autre. Il a serré la main de l'administrateur, presque en criant ses remerciements.
-- Oh, merci monsieur! Vers l'est? Y a-t-il un point de repère où la Compagnie se réunit? »
Name: Robert Carter / Rotenatankan
Age: Twenty-four
Gender: Male
Allegiance: Lurish loyalist
Appearance: Robert's face is broadly handsome, with high cheekbones and a distinct, strong chin. Thick, often-furrowed brows and a deep set almost frame his eyes, a deep, dark brown made almost black. He wears his dark hair long, though always pulled back in a tail. A long, sharp nose forms a mountain on his face, and his wide mouth a canyon.
Robert is tan, but not dark, easily mistaken for someone in the sun a lot, or from a different province. His clothes are typically of middlingly low make, cloths that are soft enough, stitching tight enough, and colors more drab - browns, greys, maybe a dark green.
Personality: Robert is a complicated person, comfortable under Lurish rule but, occasionally feeling pangs of dissent; quiet outrage at a beaurocracy, or cursing a new tax. He is generally able to chalk this up to everyday stress, but it gnaws at him whether he realizes it or not. From day-to-day, though, he carries on as anyone else would, working, socializing, relaxing.
As a child he was quick to anger, screaming for minutes at the slightest provocation, but as he grew, he channeled it into work; around the house, helping neighbors, even odd jobs for money on the side. While not explosive with anger, he retains a fierce spirit, and, atleast so he thinks, wisdom beyond his years.
Background: Rotenatankan was born to an indigenous woman, of whom he does not know the name. The woman's village was near the edge of developed Lurish land, staying just out of sight of foresters. As the Lurish expanded, space was needed, and the village was in the space. During the first days of expansion, a Lurish forester named Malcolm came upon a creek in the woods, where a native woman was washing a wound on her leg, a deep pierce that went atleast to bone.
Intending to return her to the village and inform them of incoming change, he treated the wound with a salve and a bandage, and stayed with her at the creek. It wasn't long before dark fell, and Malcolm built the two of them a fire, making sure to keep the native woman warm to avoid sickness. The light of the fire cast a warm orange hue on the world, and an equally warm humor on the two, and an uneasy silence became a friendly quiet, which became meaningful glances, which became an embrace and the rest of the night.
When Malcolm awoke, he found the woman had fashioned a makeshift crutch, and with both it and his help, could walk well enough for them to return to her village. The entire event became cold and distant again, and Malcolm tried his best to communicate the danger they could face very soon, but the native village either could not understand or did not care, and sent him away. As he returned to Lurish land, he left trail markers - several sets - to make sure he could find his way back if need be.
Nearly a year later, need was. Logging and hunting was on an enormous rise in the area, and thousands of acres of forest had to be made safe for those professions; expansionary forces were called upon to clear the forest of natives, with foresters as forward scouts. Malcolm managed his way into scouting the area that housed the village he had visited, and left immediately into the forest. Many of his trail markers had been destroyed, but enough were left for him to follow, and he was soon outside the village.
The moon was still in the early-morning sky, and it didn't take long for Robert to find the native woman, awake, and tending a baby. Seeing him, she was ecstatic, and Malcolm knew the child was his son. Using a book of rudimentary translations, Malcolm told the woman of the incoming danger, that they were about to be forced from their homes.
As they were preparing to inform the rest of the village, the Lurish attack began, a number of gunshots ringing in the sky. Warriors screaming, hide-walled tents ablaze, blood on the trampled grass. In the chaos, Malcolm lost sight of his child's mother, but he himself carried young Robert.
Robert lost his identity of Rotenatankan that day, never learning the culture of his people by birthright, growing up as happily as a child can without a mother, under Lurish rule.