Aloysius Esch
Lord Aloysius Esch
At first glance a gracious young nobleman, good for little but spending his inheritance and being a delightful handful on the dance floor. Take the time to engage him and one will find he perhaps cares more for what is good and right than the image presents.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Slender and fit, not overly muscled. When he moves, it's like water over silk. Dance with him and one will find a firm and supple armful.
Body Features
His hands are fine-boned but more hardened than one might expect. He has a small collection of scars but the chance of seeing them in public is vanishingly remote.
His left arm has an intricate tattoo in green, red and black of thorned roses and small dangerous creatures; felines, garden dragons.
His left arm has an intricate tattoo in green, red and black of thorned roses and small dangerous creatures; felines, garden dragons.
Facial Features
He's neither handsome nor plain, with a perfectly servicable face. His hair is trimmed stylishly short and a light blond. His eyes are a very pale blue
Identifying Characteristics
The aforementioned tattoo, how slender he is for his height.
Physical quirks
He fiddles with things sometimes. Drums his fingers when thinking or idly twirls his cane.
Apparel & Accessories
Dressed for every occasion as though everyone's wardrobe is bespoke tailoring. For him, dressing is simply the way of things and he acts as though it's just what one does.
He carries a gentleman's cane and usually wears a top hat.
He carries a gentleman's cane and usually wears a top hat.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
He's the youngest of three children of the noble Esch family, a smaller house within the Bremen. They are rich, politically powerful, and shockingly well adjusted in their family life.
Father: Andross Esch, a powerful minister of parliament espousing progressive causes and is distinctly successful in his endeavors.
Mother: Vivienne Katarine Esch of house Bremen, the engaged and potent Lady of the family's holdings.
Eldest & heir: Angela Esch – Noble, well-versed in law and politics. Presumed eventual successor to the parliamentary seat and title. Active in Andross’ offices performing political duties.
o Second: Dietrich Esch – Up & coming military officer. Cultivates the image of an engaging himbo but in reality, is nearly as sharp as his sister.
Father: Andross Esch, a powerful minister of parliament espousing progressive causes and is distinctly successful in his endeavors.
Mother: Vivienne Katarine Esch of house Bremen, the engaged and potent Lady of the family's holdings.
Eldest & heir: Angela Esch – Noble, well-versed in law and politics. Presumed eventual successor to the parliamentary seat and title. Active in Andross’ offices performing political duties.
o Second: Dietrich Esch – Up & coming military officer. Cultivates the image of an engaging himbo but in reality, is nearly as sharp as his sister.
Gender Identity
Cis-male. Primarily heterosexual but not blind to beauty or attraction in other forms.
Sexuality
His experience is narrow but steadily deepening. Aloysius is expressive verbally and physically in his space. He is ferociously in love and romantically bonded to one person.
Education
He's a graduate of the presitigous Academia Casus, with a degree in history and coursework in law and philosophy.
Employment
Publicly he is a noble 'spare' enjoying his privilege.
More secretly, he addresses society's injustices by supporting social projects and direct action.
Mental Trauma
He is dedicated to doing what he can, where he can. It is more difficult for him to be able to do nothing than to try and fail.
He died and was raised from the dead after an encounter with banshees. This was not as traumatic as it might have been as he was comforted and guided by Eriu, helping affirm his path.
A near miss with an intellect devourer was worse. The horror of his mind being psychically and physicially invaded was traumatic. It also gave him an avenue of deep empathy for others under malevolent influences.
Intellectual Characteristics
His greatest strengths are in connectedness, insight, and caring. He invests the time and heart to understand where others are and feel the connections to their lives. He is of normal intelligence and will grasp most intellectual concepts with time but his insights can leap ahead of understanding frequently.
His training these past years made it more difficult to touch the world. The image of the bon vivant in public and the ascetic reality behind closed doors left little room for real connection. In recent months, he has found someone to build a bridge back to the world and his soul is flowering.
His training these past years made it more difficult to touch the world. The image of the bon vivant in public and the ascetic reality behind closed doors left little room for real connection. In recent months, he has found someone to build a bridge back to the world and his soul is flowering.
Morality & Philosophy
Law is a tool of good, not its final form. Effective society benefits from rules, but these rules need to be evaluated regularly to ensure the well-being of the greatest portion of people. The default is rule of law (procedural justice).
Exception handling is part of a healthy system. Goodness and kindness are higher order principles than process. Process enables the outcomes of goodness, kindness, health, safety, and justice.
Violence is a specialty tool, to be used narrowly and judiciously. He carries a struggle of loving it too well.
Exception handling is part of a healthy system. Goodness and kindness are higher order principles than process. Process enables the outcomes of goodness, kindness, health, safety, and justice.
Violence is a specialty tool, to be used narrowly and judiciously. He carries a struggle of loving it too well.
Slender and elegant, usually a little overdressed. He is kind and sensitive to others' needs but still carries the perspectives of his upbringing as a noble. He is becoming more direct in fighting injustice.
View Character Profile
Alignment
LG (mostly)
Age
23
Date of Birth
15th of May, 1864
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
pale blue
Hair
Blond, cut short.
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Pale
Height
5'9"
Weight
150 lb
Related Plots
Memories of Futures Past
5 March, 1884
Aloysius dreams
March, 1899
He woke at the sound of the key in the lock and so did the dog. Aloysius tensed his muscles just as nine kilos of big-eared, black and white terrier launched from his midsection and charged the front door. He smiled; his family was home.
Barking and the shrieks of children mingled at the door before reversing course in a headlong charge down the hall. Aloysius rolled to his knees from the couch to receive the onslaught with open arms. Anja, nine, hit first. She's the young image of her mother, but for the Esch blue eyes. She aimed to bowl him over because the concept of 'half' never stuck with her. He spun her sideways and caught her, then did the same with Melker, all of six. So clearly their son, marked with a mix of their skin and strawberry blond hair. Aloysius wrapped them up in his arms and kissed his giggling children before sending them in pursuit of the dog.
He was still on his knees and smiling when one of the most powerful women in the world entered the parlor. Margarete Esch. Some fools think love fades with age but fifteen years after they wed, she was more radiant in his eyes than ever. Aloysius rises, kissing her like it's the first time.
Memory unbidden -Burning buildings and spell light throw everything in garish relief. Gunshots and spellcasting concuss the air, a drum beat beneath Peg's voice as she sends curses and spells into her erstwhile grandmother. She's glorious.
Aloysius is on one knee, covered in blood. Some of it is his, most of it, not. May Muckbone is in front of him. She's been kissed by Ash Wand so many times there is barely anything holding her together. She's defiant, with one last barb to throw. "You're an idiot to love her." She hisses. "Do you know what you get when your kind mixes with ours?"
Aloysius rises, Ash Wand kisses May one last time.
"The love of my life." He whispered into Peg's hair, before waking back to now.
A Salve of Moonlight
November 3rd, 1884
The garden, late, so very late.
His heart was paining him. It took some time to get home but they did and bed was a desperately needed comfort. They had talked some little while, holding each other. Hurts began to fade but the events of the night were still too present. The wave of healing from Riley fixed his body but not the memories of the way his flesh was no longer his. It did nothing at all to soothe the wounds in his mind.
Sleep came. For her, anyway. Aloysius lay a long time listening to Peg's breath and the snores of half-grown cats. He rose quietly, not touching her, though he wanted to. This sleep was hard earned and too much had been taken today. Bare feet on woven rug, the rustle of his robe.
He kneels to the pack of blink dogs, whispering. "Roni, Fay, please watch over her. Kagh, you can come with me if you want.", so grateful he can touch their essence and they can understand one another. Quietly down the stairs he goes, Kagh passing him through the in between.
An Autumn quarter moon greets him in the garden, high walls and a sleeping city granting space for his troubled soul. His feet whisper on the flagstones. This garden is a holy place for him. He's never said the words out loud. It's not a secret, really, but more than herbs and flowers have grown here; he has. The work of his hands and heart have shaped this island, a sanctuary for both of them. Love and laughter and the life they've shared have made this ground fertile.
The air is barely warm enough to keep his breath from pluming as he closes his eyes to the sky. His robe drops to clean-swept stone. Naked to the night, but for a vining tattoo and the promises on his hand, tears streak his upturned face. He's not a villain but Haarkon had so easily set him upon that knife edge, had so cruelly used him. Close, so close to murder on the say so of alchemy and malice whispered in his ear. So easily ripped from his path of love and justice, empathy and caring. Tears bitter with failure.
Hands and feet move, hips with them in the proper line. The first steps of a killing dance... but it's not just for killing. Breath and motion... a rhythm of life in him. Balance.
Nude and supple as a cat, he fills the space with motion. An exuberance with no room for faltering or doubt. His body cuts the air then connects to the ground, his passionate heart is expressed through power and grace. There is nothing out here that he can't break, but this is a place of growing. Life waxes and wanes here with the seasons and it's a place of loving. He lets it fill him, a balm for healing wounds.
In time he slows, stops. The heat from his body steams in the cool night, skin as pale as the moon.
It's a healing of sorts, the wounds on his soul no longer weeping.
He collects his robe and pads silently upstairs under Kagh's watchful eye. A pause to wet a cloth and wipe himself clean before sliding in behind Lady Esch, clad as he was earlier, his cares just a little lighter.
Family Business
16th of October, 1884
A letter has arrived at the Esch estate. There are flowers from nowhere near Europa pressed into the paper and it smells faintly of exotic spices.
Mother, Father,
I hope this letter finds you well. Peg and I are in Bharat right now, the holy city of Benares, where we have purchased a house. It's been a beautiful place to spend our time when we are here and has also served as an impromptu setting for a war council in the Magnificent Kingdoms. I am certain that you are apprised of the developing situation in the region. The armies of naga, the gigantic snake. It's all true and we are in it. As deeply as I was never supposed to be in public life, we are in this, fighting monsters and godlings.
I won't pretend, we are in danger, but the world is in more. You always taught me to work from the shadows, but life has outgrown that. Both Peg and I are famous here, as are our friends. In Eisen, too, it seems. Fighting dragons and fiends, saving lives and consorting with royalty, all of these things challenge obscurity. I suppose marrying the most distinctly beautiful woman in all of Novandria didn't help either, not that I would change that choice. All of that is to say that life has forced me to outgrow the shadows. I believe in the work and will continue it, but the original mask has slipped, and it doesn't fit any more.
Such an odd thing to have to apologize for denying you a wastrel son. I believe in our goals and will find other ways to accomplish our work. The stakes have grown so large for Eisen and the world that I have to walk the larger stage for a while. I love you and I believe in you. We'll find a way.
Your son,
Aloysius
Careless
17th of September, 1884
He's been careless. Getting sloppy.
Aloysius is somewhat famous now. He never should have been. At most, an embarrassment to family, a wastrel. Nobody worth noting except to shake heads and cluck tongues with sympathy to his parents and siblings. That was the mission, his mask so he could work in the shadows. But he couldn't hide from every eye. He couldn't stand aside from dangers and watch things burn so he could work in the dark. Or let people die he could save. Or let the guilty maintain sway. It hurts him and he has to do something.
Careless.
Venowin's stalking and threats, his near murder of Nel and Zayn merged with Aloysius' need to remove the source of problems... and it outran his feet. His heavy hand was careless of the trap of the law, a trap he had no right to avoid, killing a paladin of Caelus in the alley like that. He didn't regret the killing, that didn't scathe him at all. He had done his diligence, offered a way out, and then they finished it. It was the failure of discretion.
The intervention at the matchstick factory was clumsy. It was right but walking around with his own face. Confronting Dare Hendrix as himself, even without names got him recognized and he couldn't kill the man just for being an ass. Besides, he agreed to fix the problems.
The situation in Bharat was even worse for his disguise. All of them are genuinely famous there, even the villains have names for them. The Relentless Gale... with any luck neither Duchess Mockingbird nor his parents would ever hear of that. So much work on the verge of ruin because he couldn't live a quiet life. But...
Heartpierced
July 23, 1884
She was limp in his arms. No fire, no shadow, just empty.
Nevermore and Violet called to him as he held her, hands and heart trembling. Love and violence howled in his veins... grief. Tears fell on cooling skin as he leaned to kiss her, his blood mixing with hers. His pulse pounding alone.
He stirred under the urging of friends and the need to get back what was most precious. The wound he had torn wide when the vampire came to feed began to close. Aloysius had nothing left to lose when she fell, ripping his spear-pinned body from the wall to beat Count Rhodar into mist. But it wasn't done... wasn't done. Life and breath touched her lips as he stood, Aloysius leaving to kill or die with the taste of her in his mouth.
They hunted, Lord Esch followed, his heart left behind to guard Nel and Peg in death. What path they found; he'll never know. All he remembers is standing over Rhodar's crypt with sunlight streaming from Violet's sword and Nevermore offering a stake. It wasn't right. It wasn't enough, but he knew what was. Ashwood, silver shod and enchanted. The shock of the blow against the sarcophagus stung deep in his hands but the breaking wood left him with what he needed, a loss-sharp stake to drive into the heart of darkness. He hammered it home with his weeping hands.
...
He carried her until he couldn't, rigor making her unwieldy in his arms. The feeling of her stiffening body another scar in him. He laid her in the cart next to Nel for the long walk back. No comfort but the slow scatter of the vampire prince's ashes on the trail, drifting a pinch at a time on the wind. His tears, he stored for later. Soon, he'll know what comes next. Either his only love will be living and in his arms, or he'll take the trip to hell to have her back from Tanith.
Flowers, Fresh Air, and Husbands
26th March, 1884
A journalist. A purveyor of words and facts; a teller of true stories in print for all and sundry. Margarete Esch, journalist.
When she told him, there was fear in her that he would think it too small a thing. They settled that matter right quickly and now the last of the third-floor rooms was an office for her, fully appointed, including a broad and sturdy desk and promises to knock things from the corner of it now and then.
A journalist. Writer. Creator.
She had accepted his gift and raised the ante, wanting something to be shared between them. "...I want a space in the garden, for both of us, for when there is the work of reading and writing to be done but when the rest of my heart needs sights and smells of flowers and fresh air and my husband." She touched his heart with that. Now, with the first weeks of Spring turning, he's been able to get workmen out to start on things.
There isn't tremendous room in the garden. The only real option is to modify the gazebo that has been the scene of many important moments. He watches as the workers set to. Memories echo.
The slimness of her waist under his hands. "I fear that I have fallen in love with you and if you don't kiss me right now, I shall be very cross."
A gift of oleander
a pair of rings "one heart, one fire, one blood"
His heart and mind are full of important moments as they reshape the shelter. For Peg's wish, they build in a shared desk with two sides, each a little offset from the other; close, yet with enough room to breathe and work. Planters are added to the supports, raising flowers into their space. Prepared pots of crocuses and iris are hung up carefully where they can surround the couple with life. It's going to be beautiful.
Aloysius walks about the garden and finds himself drawn to the back corner. Oleander, foxglove, houndstooth - The season's too early and none are in bloom; their potency abides. His mind drifts between beauty and peril. His body is whole, his worst wounds are on his heart. Some have healed, some are scarred. Some are still tender and weeping; they catch him against his will.
...mind violated, adorned in the blood of his foes and the salt of his tears
...the right side of her face is covered in blood and her left shoulder and arm are badly burned... the disconnected lost sort of look in her eyes is more concerning
...her throat an open ruin and her belly slit, contents spilling. Her eyes empty, her fire extinguished
He closes his eyes and reaches for his center. It takes time but the weight of the rings on his hand pulls him back. Life is so often in perilous balance. His own, those of the people he loves, the lives that he might take. The path through his passions and fears and dreams is still fraught but his feet are becoming firmer upon it. The edge of might or might not recedes; he finds a touch of peace in the simplicity of what is.