Trevor Philippe Jacques Cairns

At six foot three he stood proud next to his kin of honor. Trevor was more versed in courtly matters but his real training laid hidden beneath the attire of the elite. He toasted with many a king and those of the ruling class, rubbing elbows as it was referred to. He was skilled enough with a sword and lance to win him honor on the tournament fields, still his calling ran deeper than steel. It was here, on the field , he met the others and a kinship that would not be denied. So, he threw off his own heritage to become a part of something more important.

During the black hours of the years to follow the near killing of The Black Griffon, the four seemingly dispersed so they would not be found and could work to bring him back to his crown. Others, such as The Luneberg Hawk, helped in these matters to see it to fruition. However, as with Fate, the Black Griffon found his true love and a kingdom of his own leaving his brother alive for his mercy. Claude and his woman, whose name was not spoken, were watched like a hawk. Trevor knew in his heart the snake along with his viperous mate would only recoil in time to strike again.

In time they would switch guard, thus Trevor's time to come to Heathfield came about  to serve there directly under Karl. The change would be good to keep him from becoming too jaded in the constant contact with the lesser brother and wife. His own history would one day be revealed along with his talents in time as needed. One more page turned with many more to be written.

 North/Elemental Power/Earth/Grizzly Bear

Eyes of near midnight held a gleam like a star nestled in the night's sky. Such was  the only hint of what dwelled within for the eyes were the window if one could perceive. What he would appear to be to others might well be different than the man himself. Illusions were a shield for one whose life held certain intrigues.

His tastes were of the finest vintage in all things, be it his wines, liquor or women when he found time. His priorities laid deeper than the superficial but times were taken when offered for such socialization. He is a very cautious man and will not settle for less than the best, as it should be. Friends he would make in social arenas but few will get any closer. He trusted few. Experiences and time proved one should walk carefully amongst the masses.

Mysterious? Perhaps, but mystery lies in being multi facet. Trevor was no less. Warrior honed, not one to mess with. He is more socially open than some of his comrades for his position and background. Still, he holds that reserve, one more prone to listen, observe and learn. One of the King's Men.

Trevor noted that look in the other's eyes, not liking it one bit but he was curious so he followed him through the corridors. Frowning even more as they drew closer to where his parents' wing was. He was not allowed there.

"You're going to get me in trouble again."

Damascus waved it off as he stopped in front of the closed door to Trevor's parents office. Voices could already be heard and only growing louder.

"You always blame it on me anyway."

About to say something in his defense, Trevor's mouth clamped shut as the shouting behind those closed doors could be made out.

"He's a freak and you know it Antoinette! He's no son of mine. Devil possessed he is for the things that have happened around him that can't be explained. I tried, but there is no way I can't even allow him to play with the other nobles' children. He scared Lord Ackerman's son to tears and the shakes when he started talking to this boy by the name of Damascus who was not there. NOT there! The lad talks to ghosts! He talks to the air! There was retribution to appease Lord Ackerman and pay off to keep him quiet. I cannot have this! Today, you send him away for good. We will have another son in the one you carry now. He will be my heir!"

Branan Cairns' voice was deep and clear that carried well through that thick oaken door. The fury in his tone only mounted the more he spoke on Trevor. His word was law. Antoinette's voice was harder to hear but even the precocious five year old Trevor could tell she was weeping while pleading. Her voice softer as only words here and there could barely be made out. He knew she was defending him. She always defended him. He couldn't understand what was so wrong with him that made him such a monster in his father's eyes. He stood there shaking just outside their door, scared to the core, even Damascus had abandoned him. It wasn't until he realized the voices were growing closer that he ran. He had found a hiding spot within the castle of Duke Branan Cairns that stood impressively on a high hill overlooking the bay of Aberdeen.

It took a day and a half for Antoinette to find her son beneath the steps that led to the tower in the West Wing. It broke her heart that day to see him curled up in some old burlap seed sack, dirty small face stained in tears. So exhausted he never even woke as she curled him up in her arms to take away with her to a woman she knew would be able to see to him. Not only take care of him but understand the gifts he inherited. Marquis Philippe Moreau had allowed his only daughter to travel to Scotland under guard for her to advance her education. Her travels brought her a combination of grief and happiness. Amongst meeting and falling in love with Duke Branan Cairns, she had also met an older Druid Lady by the name of Mary Beth.

It was through her family who knew others who knew even others she had met Branan. The Duke in a quest for a wife and heir had become smitten with the delicate and lovely Antoinette. The birth of their son two years after their marriage had brought celebrations throughout the lands. The Duke of Aberdeen finally had an heir. Many had wondered if the middle aged man would ever produce one for the tragedies of his former wives dying in childbirth. Two in all before Antoinette. They had believed the Duke to be cursed and now there was this. The rumor that went around was that the lad was sickly and had been taken off to better physicians of the Moreau family in France. It was an easy enough one to believe for how the Duke kept his son away from others. Later the rumors were that even the best physicians there could not save the lad.

Trevor didn't know if it was the shadow that seemed to pass by or the breeze that came in from a now opened window in his office that faded the images of the past from his mind. About to get up to close the window he couldn't remember opening, he realized the letter that prompted the memories was still in his hand. That and coupled with something one said to him in the Thistle a few days past about betting he never had an imaginary friend. It was not something he would confirm nor deny. A frown creased his features for that moment of oddity before folding it away to tuck in his breast pocket. Some things he didn't like remembering but it was all a part of events that led him to where he was this day.

Taken from Past Memories done on the Message board, story continues in the Fugitive where Trevor's Elemental abilities are documented.

This is a fictional roleplaying character. The pictures used are of Antonio Banderas in reference only as to how this character would appear. No claims are made. No tolerance for childish antics of others whether written well or not. I'm not here to waste my time. IMs are for ooc and about writing, not personal questions or trying to set up my character with others. Don't ask. This is a character developed in the writing environment of Heathfield, no recruiting. 10/20/03.