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User:

carillon_crow (410549)

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Name:

Edric Bell

Website:

Daingerfield RPG

E-mail:

ytilaer@gmail.com

Bio:

	Edric Bell Age: 48 Birthdate: January 21st, 1815 Birthplace: Manchester, England PB: Jeremy Irons Daingerfield

With every move carefully calculated before executed, Edric presents himself with unhurried grace and becomes disarmingly casual in his absolute self-confidence. He doesn't need to raise his voice or mind his language to make a lasting impression; nor does he have a firm handshake or easy smile to charm a new aquaintance, and he has never asked whether anyone minds if he smokes. He simply does not care how much you like him, because he likes himself well enough. He's made himself into the man he wants to be; dressed and poised as if a gentleman, with the tongue of a scoundrel. Any man that respects himself will dress to show it, Edric believes, and while his indulgence in fine clothing is evident, it is never foppish. Tailored and subtle are his preferences, without any oafish flamboyances to get caught in his Panzer's workings. Posture can say just as much about a man, and though he stands with trained rigidity, straight-backed and square-shouldered, making him formidable at his full 6'2", Edric fully commits into a seat like he bears the weight of the world. As much as his confidence and haughtiness demands attention and respect, his skills at interpersonal relations are somewhat lacking. He is an unabashedly, brutally honest man, though not a candid one. This can make him seem cold, dismissive, or outright hateful, and has left him out of practice as a liar. Because he doesn't have the skill himself, he doesn't recognize it in others-- he will readily assume a man stupid, useless, crazy and backwards, but never dishonest. Not that he is easy to trick; anything said is usually discredited anyway unless Edric said it himself. He is a man of extremes, and hates 'maybe's, 'if's and anyone who can't commit. He cannot stand authority going unchallenged, because there is no one who knows the dangers of an unquestioned, power-hungry mind more than himself. As hyper-aware as he is of his faults as much as his blessings, he is a master of blaming them on anything and everything else and lives very free of guilt. Guilt and regret just slow you down; avoid the burden by never putting yourself in the situation. He has never confessed love for anyone. Five Words Which Best Describe Your Character: Severe, passionate, graceful, honest, egotistical Edward Anthony Wright was born in Manchester in 1815. At the time, for a family of his class, the option for a man's life in Manchester was to work at the cotton mills and to be happy that God gave you what he did. What God gave Edward was a younger sister and brother, a father dead by the time he was fourteen, and far more spirit than a cotton mill or the working class at all could contain. He needed opportunity and to make himself, so when Edward Wright was twenty-one and his brother was old enough to care for the house, Edward Wright ceased to be. It was Edric Bell that stepped off the ship in America. The was the brave new world, land of opportunity, and while Bell didn't have much, he did have the will not only to survive but to be a great man. New York was full of people with much the same ambition, and they ripped each other down the ladder of success to climb higher themselves. The city lived in a brutal standstill. Edric found the shackles of Edward haunting him even on the other side of the world for many years-- living in a single room in a tenement owned by the brewery that employed him. And though he had come to this city with great ambition, he advanced rarely. Ambition was everywhere; it took a personable man, a respectably married man, and an educated man to become anything more than a factory worker, whether that man was in New York or Manchester. Edric was none of these things. As cold and severe as he had come to New York, it had bred in him a greater brutality, cynisism and shamelessness. The tenement blocks were raw and dark, spawning grounds for criminals and mafiosos. Edric's respect and patience for women was nonexistant; he found not one his equal until his thirties. His affair with Portia Anne Colman was fierce and passionate and they threw themselves into marriage without realizing (or, more like, not quite caring) how explosive a pairing of their shared temperment would be under one roof. She, in particular, was easily given to shouting and dramatics, disturbing their neighbours endlessly. The two found that they shared a desire for greatness, but did not share a route; Portia's did not include the weight of children, and Edric's was worth nothing without them. She would give him the child he demanded of her, and she would leave him with it. Love was no match for ambition. Alone then, with a baby boy with no name that wept for his mother, in the dark room with paper thin walls that the neighbours delighted in for their gossip, Edric had to find his own way to advance in the world: New York offered it on a silver platter, glittered with it, and refused to speak of it. Edric stole for that baby's supper, and murdered for its first pair of boots. He might not ever become a noble king, but noble was never a requirement of the ambition anyway. The problem with New York was that it was thick with kings, and Edric would have to move to find his own kingdom. It was a hulking wreck that marred the horizon from the porches of Daingerfield. The residents would assume him a soldier, for there were few civilians in posession of a Panzer, especially not one so fresh from battle. They would come to regret the quick assumptions and understanding care they showed him as he healed and became part of their community. In a way, Edric has done good; all of those drifting orphans from the desert are more than welcome to call the Bell ranch home. A bed and three square meals only cost a man his loyalty up there. But it is loyalty to a bandit, and a disappointing performance has a much higher price. It is the surrounding bands of pirates that have really come to fear Bell's men the most (the most economical way to hunt treasure is to let everyone else do all the hunting and pluck the whole hoard in one place right from under them, after all), but the moral code they have is flimsy and changes with the desert wind. Edric has a manipulative control over the townsfolk, either through pure violence, blackmail or money, and many feel they might do better facing the pirates than living under Edric's cold rule.

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