Name: Lord James Montague
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class: Courtier
Physical Description (5 sentence minimum): James is tall, with dark locks that are often tousled in a friendly sort of way. His eyes are a light, greyish blue, and are almost always sparkling with humour or life. He is tall and lean, though not without the muscles developed by excessive riding and jousting. James loves the rush of adrenaline brought on by excersise, and therefore takes part often. This, along with his inability to take the time necessary for a good shave, lend a certain rugged look. He has a strong nose, and the clearly defined jawline of a man who knows himself.

Native Duchy: Ashton
History (8 sentence minimum): James grew up in Ashton. His father's family, the Montagues, have owned a shipping line in Adesia for years, focusing mainly on the export of cotton and wheat to Soleil. His mother's family, the Daileys, owned a largish plantation in Marcheford. Their main export was cotton. Ultimately, this led them together: when Montague senior inherited the business, he held meeting with all the major suppliers: a shrewd business move. He insisted on knowing his company inside and out. When it came time for him to meet with the Daileys, he made his way done to their Estate. The moment he set foot in their house, his eyes set upon their daughter, and did not waver for the entirety of their visit. Originally, the Daileys did not deem the son of a merchant good enough for their daughter: Kitta. Fair and sweet, she ought to marry well for the family.
But Montague was relentless. He courted Kitta night and day, often leaving little flower boughs on her doorstep, or singing soft songs up to her window. Little by little Kitta became fond of him: the fondess blossomed into something more. Although the Daileys were surprised, they accepted their daughter's wishes, and let her marry the Merchant. Immediately, Montague sold part his shipping business, and bought a large chunk of land on the East coast of Ashton. Little by little, Montague built up the business again, until he was the master of both a pretty piece of land, and a small fleet of shipping boats.
When Kitta gave birth to James, everyone was overjoyed. It seemed as though nothing could go wrong for the little clan of Montagues. A healthy business, a teeming property, and a young lad set to inherit it all.
When James was six however, disaster struck. Montague Senior was on a long trip to Soleil: he had to attend to business there. As storms will, one blew up with almost no warning, demolishing the ship he was on. His body was never found.
When the news reached the newly widowed Kitta, she not crumple as all predicted. Instead, she threw her delicate shoulders back, and set about "tidying up life," as she called it. She appointed a manager to the shipping business until James was of age, and appointed another to attend to all the needs to the property. Not being a fool, she stayed up many a night, reading over bills and debts to insure they were not cheating her.
But with all her extra time, Kitta attended to her son. She educated him ruthlessly, insuring he could read, write, and converse with the fluid ease of an intellectual. She also, however, threw all her soul into raising him to be more then just intellectual: she wanted him conscious. Conscious to life, to others, to love.
James grew up in an evironment of love and work, in almost perfect balence. As a result, James grew up incredibly balenced. He tended to avoid rages, prefering instead to raise a calm eyebrow at the the fury. His smile was quick, and often followed by a the booming laugh of a happy young man.
At age 18, James inherited both the land and the business. He had proved quite adept with both.
One day, in the August of his 19th year, James was out in Glennon, running errands in the town. Strolling down the street, his eye was caught by a beautiful display of journals in a window. Making his way over, James was entranced with the gleaming covers, the glitteringly white pages. Hasteing inside, he nearly collided with someone else: a young lady, a Miss Samantha Verney. She too had been making at full haste towards the display, and after a few moments of embarrased apologies, agreed to let James buy her one as a payback.
In just a few months, that book became the possession of a love struck girl. James and Samantha did everything together, and seemed to mesh in a way that made their faces light up as though lit from within.
They married quickly, as everyone had predicted, and soon Samantha was pregnant. James went nearly mad with happiness, and spent almost 100% of his time doting on his quickly growing wife. When she gave birth to a healthy baby girl, whom they named Anna, he thought his life was complete.
But it was not to last. At age two, Anna developed a cough that would nod fade. It lingered, and lingered, though Samantha and James did all they knew. They dreaded the worst: that it may turn into the Sweat. In December, their nightmares were answered. Anna came down with a raging fever that made her tiny fists shake, and her lids flutter like a trapped bird. Samantha went nearly mad with grief, spending every moment by her daughter's bedside. Nothing James did could tear her away, and he began to fear for her as well. On the first of January, little Anna passed into the hands of God, and James felt as though his heart had broken. He turned to comfort his wife: his only light in a world of howling darkness. But it was God's will that that light be extinguished. As James had feared, Samantha began running higher and higher fevers, until she could not stir from bed. Her cries tore through the house like a vengeful ghost, the agony in it a pain to hear. James prayed and hoped, but nothing he did helped. He cleansed her face, he called doctor after doctor...he even called in the Village Healing woman, though it was frowned upon. Nothing, nothing mattered more then Samantha. When, in mid January, she too slipped away from him, James nearly broke. He took long, silent walks along the windy coasts of Ashton, the breezes tearing at his jacket and hat. He tucked himself away in his big, empty house, reading the bible over and over-why had this happened to him? He was not a man of great faith-he had always attended church, but never been one to diligently live by the laws imposed by God. He merely hoped, in some little shred of his heart, that the answer was there, waiting for him.
Little by litte, James put himself back together. If not for his aging mother, Kitta, he may have stayed in that house for the rest of his days. But Kitta wouldn't have it. She bothered him until he got himself back up and about, making him tend to business, forcing him to attend meetings. Although he could always find her open, loving arms if he needed them, what he needed even more was her stern glare.
It took several years, but James recovered. He shall always grieve for his little lost family, but he does not let it rule him.

Parents:
Lord Patrick Montague and Lady Kitta Dailey
Siblings: Nada.
Personality:
James is extremely easygoing. He loves to laugh, and joke, and generally smile at life. He is quite clever-his mother made sure of that. He can always turn a dull day into a witty one, and loves nothing more then a good jest. Passionate about his loves, James is also extremely determined. If he sets his mind on something, he will not be shook loose by anything less then full on cannon fire. He is quite sensitive to other's moods and thoughts, and often takes other's opinions to heart. It took him some time to learn to judge the worthy opinions from the fools. He can be quite stubborn, and has a bad habit of beating himelf up over things he should not.

Items:
- James has a nice looking Horse, a large Chesnut beast: one of the most stubborn animals you shall ever meet. To be honest, it would be better off as dog-food. The real question is: whom is riding whom?
- 2 sets of clothing: James has his nice clothes and his day clothes. The colors are blues and blacks, with silver embroidery. He has his boots, and his court slippers.
- One nightshirt; silk, slight embroidery
- One heavy silver chain.
- One personal item: James holds tight to his heart a small portrait, the most miniature of miniatures of his wife, Samantha.
- One sword: old, about to rust
- One traveling cloak w/hood (Black with silver and blue lining)
- A book of parchment, ink, and quill, with a little bit of sealing wax
- Hygienic effects: hair comb or brush, shaving equipment, etc. You can just assume that you have anything you need to stay clean and well-groomed.
- James is excellent with a sword.
- James is a most excellent horse back rider.
- One manservant
- One pet: a young hunting dog named Bodhi.
Roleplay Sample (Two paragraph minimum - Ten sentences):
Antoinette laid her neck against the cool rim of the fountain, letting out a small sigh. The tiny breath ruffled the tulle neckline of her gown, the slightest touch, the lightest shift. Her blue eyes fluttered closed, the long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. Letting her blonde head relax against the fountain, Antoinette slowly let herself decompress. The slender hands that had been so tensely clutching her quill loosened, the feather moved back and forth by a momentary breeze. The parchement in her hand also wavered, the wind courting the letter with little nips and tucks, as breezes do. That same breeze swirled down, to flirt with the hem of her dress, the silk rustling quietly.
Antoinette let the sounds of the garden rush in, the quiet noises a symphony of peace. Little twitters from a bird, the bubbling gurgle of the fountain. These little happenings carressed her relaxed mind, slowly shuffling the worries and thoughts of the day to other corners. Her mind free to wander, it skipped and twirled from thought to thought, never resting on any subject for too long.

Suddenly, the blue eyes snapped open. A noise, a rustle, someone's footstep, had reached her ears, brushing against her concsiousness so lightly, that if she had not been so open to the garden around her, she would not have felt the feather touch at all. Pushing a blonde curl out of her eyes, Antoinette sat up straighter, putting the red quill and parchment to the side. Gingerly, taking care not to rustle her gown, Antoinette peered around the side of the fountain. Through the bubbling expanse of falling water, she could make out the shape of a man: strong shoulders, set within a no-nonsense build. He stood, as if transfixed, gazing at the fountain. Or was he? Antoinette knew the feeling, of looking at something, but really seeing something else so very far away. Drawing herself back behind the shelter of the cool, marble rim, Antoinette thought hard. Did she know the man? The fine, chiseled features did not set off a spark in her mind-and yet, only a few days at the Manor, she was not close to knowing everyone. Glancing back once more, the azul eyes lit upon the three other men, in livery, standing at a discreet distance. His?

Standing up, Antoinette stepped out from behind the shelter of the fountain, her gaze open and friendly. A small smile tugged at the rosy lips as she dipped a slight curtsy.

"And here I was, thinking I alone had discovered this little alcove."



Other:

Ehm. Not much.