Name: Sir Argent Sargevo 
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Concept: Wishy-washy lesser noble
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6'1
Weight: 140 LBS



What do people see when they glance at you?
Argent has a limber build, which he dresses in the finest fashions, handsome even before he draws more attention to himself with clever cuts of the cloth.  Despite a concession for a few hereditary emblems and adornments, Argent favors silks and satins cut in the cutting edge of high society fashions.  A family saber is on his hip as often as not, though Argent has never been one to draw steel unprovoked.  He has a clear tendency towards white gold over yellow, and colored stones over clear.  His posture speaks of one casually confident in the knowledge that the world was made for him.

What will people find out if they ask around about you?
First of, they know about him.  Members of the human aristocracy remember him from their (or possibly his own) childhood, though not well.  His title is hereditary rather than than bestowed directly onto him.  While lesser nobility, House Sargevo is the sort of old-blood that defaults to respected.

Argent returned to the local apartments within the past two years as a man grown.  In addition to his peerless skill with a crossbow or his ability to fence with blade or word alike, Argent is casually well-versed in everything from the arcanum to zoology.  He's even been known to rattle off a spell here and there as though it was something everyone know how to do.

Much more recently, Argent has gained some renown by effortlessly bringing down a pair of boars in his first ever boar hunt, though there was some naysaying about his non-traditional use of arms.

What will people find out if they talk to you?
The young man has established himself as a bachelor's bachelor, more interested in decadence and fancy dress than more serious interests.  Like many of the younger peers, Argent mostly just parrots back the accepted politics rather than holding with any fervent conviction.  That makes him casually racist towards non-humans and supportive of more nobility-focused rule, but not vocally so.

Even on topics Argent has limited interest in, he remains as eloquent as anyone.  If pressed, however, his charms can readily turn to barbs - subtle at first, and then devastating.

Argent has a tendency to snack; he generally brings a small bag of dried fruit and nuts or peppermints with him if he expects to be out of doors for an extended period, and another of rolled sticks of rabbit jerky he particularly favors - either of which he tends more to suck on than chew.

The noble favors a cologne made from mellowed ginger, cinnamon, and a mix of other spices.  The result is a mild but full-bodied bouquet that seems to become more nuanced the longer one smells it.

What will people find out if they look into your past?
Argent was a sickly child lingering on the outer fringes of polite company.  When he was around eleven or twelve, Argent was remanded to the family estate in the country, with the hopes that the fresh and quiet would do him good.  By all accounts, it did; one would need to know what to look for to notice any lingering markers of poor health.  It also meant he was far away from the city when burglary turned murder in the local apartments, a few months before Argent's seventeenth birthday, claiming the lives of his entire immediate family.

The orphaned boy was somewhat ornery after the tragedy, and was somewhat free with dismissing hired help who displeased him.  To hear those present, the boy had been unhinged.  However, the steady improvement in Argent's health and mood after pruning his staff seems to have justified his decision.  Locally, Argent maintains a comparatively small household comprised of himself, a maid, a cook, and a butler.

---

The Butler Hawthorne Barrows is a tall, 40-something human who gracefully accepted his receding hairline with a stubbly shave of his scalp.  He sports a graying mustache, tended daily, but otherwise no facial hair.  Rail thin and pale, the man has the stern professionalism of one raised from birth as a servant to nobility.

The Cook Marco Chevron is a cheery little gnome, three and a half feet tall and given to fat.  His hair is a minty green, though whether naturally or otherwise is unclear, and he wears it in tussled ringlets.  The gnome's pallet is diverse and exotic enough to border on Avant Garde, and sometimes a little too much so.  If he cooks something and it is pleasant on the tongue asking what it was is not always the best idea, though oversight from Barrows helps keeps the menu from being too colorful.

The Maid Angelique Barrows, Hawthorne's illegitimate daughter, is a half-elven girl of sixteen.  A petite, pretty girl with long auburn hair and pale skin, she could almost pass for human.  The girl is skittish, particularly around those representing the law in some capacity.  Within the safety of the Sargevo apartments, though, she is a cheerful girl hungry for her dour father's approval.

The TBA Jayden ???, the newest member of Argent's staff, recently won a pardon for the crimes of theft, murder, and impersonation of a noble.  All he had to do was slay a lion in single combat with nothing more than the simple rags on his back, his wits, and barely enough steel to cut one's steak.  His role in Argent's household remains undecided, though any boy that good with a knife at that young an age surely has potential as a bodyguard.