Raphael Avaignon/Emil Rycek

House: House Avaignon (Extinct), formerly loyal to House Merov

Age: 33

Physique: Strong, barrell chested with scars across his upper torso and smaller scars on his face, although not without handsome features. Stands tall at 6’-3”, and can be altogether characterised as an impressive man. His bearing could formerly be characterised as iconic of his privileged upbringing, yet over the past four years his bearing and overall countenance falls in line with the life he has led as a member of Marik’s Marauders.

Temperament: Raphael is a very reserved yet direct man. His life as a mercenary has led to him adopting a more casual demeanor than he had previously - although one can never truly erase a lifetime of living a life of privilege from one's demeanor. While he is very reserved and direct, one with enough discernment can see a deeply wounded person, and one who is reserved and guarded out of necessity. Good luck getting him to talk about it however.

Alias(es): Emil Rycek, former member of Marik’s Marauders, and currently a wandering mercenary.

Biography: In another life, the man known to many sellswords and brigands as Emil Rycek was a very different man, with a very different name. This man used to call himself Chevalier Raphael Avaignon, an ordained knight who served at the pleasure of King Odo II of Routaille. Those days seemed so long ago, so much so that this man would find it altogether difficult to remember the faces of the King he served, and the men he served alongside. Yet, despite the years that passed between where this man was currently standing and where he had stood, there were some faces he could see as clearly as if they were standing before him every night when he closed his eyes, with their voices as rich and vibrant as water rolling from a stream.

Roughly four years ago, this man formerly known as Raphael fought proudly for his King during what at the time amounted to several scattered uprisings throughout the island nation. His life had stability and purpose, with his priorities clearly in front of him as he put down several of these smaller uprisings. He was serving his King: his rightful sovereign by the grace of Artis himself. It had never mattered what was asked of him during his life of service to His Majesty, and it did not matter to him at that time. Not even when the small peasant uprisings scattered throughout Routaille unified into a revolutionary movement. Not even when his men slaughtered rioters in the streets and hung their corpses in tree boughs and the walls of countless villages.

Yet, that all changed when he stared into the horrified eyes of a young woman cowering in fear within her simple cottage. She held a baby in her arms, hardly older than a month by the sounds of its crying. His orders were simple enough, especially considering the hundreds of lives he personally had already taken in the name of his King. Yet, despite their simplicity, the will to carry out his liege’s will left him entirely, starting with when they first arrived at this woman’s village. The men were gone, which matched the information they had that this village, named St. D’Artois was supporting the revolution now gaining momentum in the Tlem and Routais’ islands. All him and his men found were women and children, most of which hiding in a temple to Artis which dominated the town in the center. By the orders of a seigneur noble leading his men and many others, they all went cottage to cottage to find any other villagers hiding. And that is where he found himself, with this woman hardly over the age of eighteen gripping her child in her arms, and with tears welling up in her eyes. He stood there motionless, with several moments passing as his own men, doggedly following their orders, seized her and her child and led her into the temple. Every time the memory struck this man, he could remember the dazed, powerless feeling which engulfed him those years prior, along with the chills which ran up his spine when his Seigneur gave the orders to burn the temple with all the women and children they found latched inside.

And again he froze. He froze as he watched the torches burst through the stained glass windows of the temple. Why did he freeze? Why didn’t he stop this? Those questions would always haunt Raphael, now Emil, almost every day and night of his life. But all of a sudden, he was no longer frozen. No, in fact his sword flew out of its scabbard in one fluid motion and buried itself in his commander’s chest, driving him out of his saddle and pinning him to the ground. Thought abandoned Raph as he did so, with his body merely acting as if it knew the right thing to do even though he consciously felt paralyzed by indecision. As he pulled his blade from the noble’s chest, he turned to face the soldiers which accompanied him, several in the immediate vicinity of him and the late commander drew their swords and began to approach him. Yet those men who were either loyal to him or who also opposed the decision to burn these innocent people drew their swords in turn and charged those who would avenge the nobleman’s death. Without hesitation, Raphael charged for the temple and set about trying to open the gates of the temple. Cries of women and children echoed out from within, with his adrenaline pumping and causing their cries to fade in the background. As he tried to work the boards and latches loose, he was soon set upon by those who were loyal to the orders originally given to them, with time slipping away as eventually the temple erupted into a blazing inferno.

When Raphael dealt with those who stood in his way, he could hear only silence within the temple as the only noise to be heard was the implacable fires which hungrily consumed the wood and stone of the temple. Those who supported the commander were largely slain, with only a handful left of those who fought at Raph’s side. As they left the village and headed for Pyracle, they saw a city gripped in the throes of madness. Farmers threw their landlords out of the windows of buildings; noblemen were hanged from beams at the tops of the city’s walls. All was lost for the royal family of Routaille, Raphael knew. While he was not with them in this dire hour, he knew all was lost when the men he had recently fought alongside decided to kill women and children. Valdez forces which had since fought alongside the Routais retreated to their ships, with Raphael and handful of others who followed him stealing Valdez uniforms and stowing away on their ships.

As him and his men left the land of their birth behind them, He cast a sack full of his regal armor into the ocean between them. And as it sunk to the bottom, the words left his lips: ”Raphael Avaignon is dead. He died on Routaille, along with anything he cared about or ever wanted in life.” Eventually, when the Valdez made berth at the ports of Aladeen, Raph and company took their leave of the former allies of theirs and laid low within the island nation for the following months. With what gold they had and what more they could earn, they soon refitted themselves into simple travelers, and went their separate ways. Raphael assumed the identity of an ‘Emil Rycek,’ a Routais’ born Luskan sellsword, who then booked passage to the home he never knew in the Freehold of Luska, alongside a man who fought at his side at St. D’Artois, and who would also prove to be one of his most trusted companions named Garosh. Together, they reforged themselves as they joined the Luskan Free Company known as Marik’s Marauders.

In the following years, both of them served together within the Free Company: being hired out to participate in the many petty wars throughout Trevast. Eventually, Garosh was killed in battle during a foray with pirates in a routine patrol, after which Emil took his leave and opted to strike out on his own. Today, he is but a simple wanderer throughout Trevast, with his Routais’ accent since diluted thanks to his surrogate occupation as a mercenary. This also is likely due to efforts of his own design due to assassins that periodically zero in on his location, which he assumes are sent by the new government put in place by the former revolutionaries. Today he lives near-entirely as Emil Rycek, with the memories of his past life forever haunting him.