Marin Rousse
Marin.jpg
Fullname: Marin Rousse
Played by: Matt Damon
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Birthdate: July 20, 1285
Class: Noble
House: Rousse
Occupation: Seafaring Lord
Province: Eisande
Country: Terre D'Ange
Parents: Lorenzu and Orsula Rousse
Siblings: Some (open)
Marital Status: Single
Children: None

Known Information

Background

There is always one in the family. Not quite a black sheep, more like a dark grey sheep. That would be our Marin. Always a bit on the mischievous side, he never did anything to bring disgrace to his honorable family but he definitely pushed the envelope.
From an early age, he displayed an uncanny adeptness on the sea, sailing with his various aunts and uncles. His house has a proud tradition of seafaring, both in commerce and war. Ensuring Marin spent as much time at sea as possible also mitigated catastrophe at home. After all, an away Marin is not causing trouble on land.

He rose rapidly through the ranks, becoming a second mate and navigator at the age of 18. This rapid rise did not come without controversy. Most crewmen attributed his rise more to his blood than his skill. Perhaps that was because of his often playful, devil may care attitude or maybe the amount of time he spent making sure he always looked "just so". Regardless of the reason, he was often not given much heed unless strictly necessary during his watch. This all changed during a freak storm while at sea. Winds so strong it snapped the mainmast with a thundering crack like it was a toothpick. Men were lashing themselves to the deck with whatever they could find if they weren't risking life and limb in the rigging furling the sails. Many men perished falling from the rigging, leaving precious few to do the work needed. The foremast strained in the wind, her sheets fluttering like tattered ribbons of canvas. Securing the wheel with a line to try to hold the course as steady as possible, salt spray ripping at his skin, burning his eyes, he made his way mizzen. Only it and the jiggermast remained serviceable. Climbing the rigging, he furled the topsail, his will versus the sea. With a final, Herculean effort he secured the topsail and the mainsail. Making his tortured way down the rigging, every step down requiring all his strength and agility. Nearing collapse he reached the bottom. Eyes nigh useless from the blowing gale, he made his way to the jigger, only to watch it be ripped from its mooring in the deck and whisked away like a feather in the wind.

Straining, he returned to the wheel and heaved the ship into the teeth of the waves, the rudder biting into the churning water. For what felt like an eternity he manned the helm, his feet planted like roots to the deck, his one focus on saving the lives of what men were left and the valiant ship. It felt like an illusion, like a desperate phantasm of hope born from desperation when the first hint of the storm abating was felt. He held fast until the seas returned to calm. The sinews of his arms, his legs shivering from fatigue and cold. As the rolling seas returned to a more placid state he allowed himself to collapse on the deck. Exhaustion had claimed him, and he had to pay the dues.

He awoke in his cabin, many hours later and emerged into bright sunlight. A paltry crew was all that was left, the lone surviving mast with full sails pulling the ship as fast as it was able, which was not much. Curiously, neither the captain nor first mate were to be seen. His legs still shaky, he made his way to the captain's cabin and knocked. With no answer, he made his way in. He saw the captain, in a state of being partially dressed laying unconscious on the floor. A pool of blood radiating from his temple. He quickly summoned the ship's surgeon, but it was too late. The pitching ship had hurled the captain head first into the corner of his desk, shattering the side of his skull.

The first officer was found unconscious, but alive, in his cabin, the bruising on his forehead telling the story of a fate that was nearly the same as the captain. Ensuring the first officer was tended to, he assumed command of the vessel. The few men on board treated him with a new level of respect. His efforts helped to save the ship and he was now fully accepted by the crew.

As night fell, he pulled out his charts and calculated their position. Finding the nearest port to be in Hellas, he laid in the course. Several days later, they limped into port. The once proud ship now a caricature of its past self. Securing the ship at port, he set about ordering repairs and sent a report home. Many weeks later, the ship was once again at her full sailing complement of men and mast. He immediately set a course for home, eager to feel the familiar land beneath his feet.

Upon his return home, he was promoted to first officer and continued his illustrious sailing career. He had also learned a fair bit of decorum, life was no longer a game to him. He still had his roguish way about him but it was now tempered by the wisdom of experience. The dark grey sheep was now slightly off-white.

On the eve of his 24th birthday, his mother gifted him the very ship that almost cost him his life. Having not set foot on her decks in many years, the immediate feeling of home was overwhelming. Tears fought bast his stoic barriers, he could not help it. Nor did he particularly want to.

"So, son, new captain. New name for the ship?" his mother, Orsula asked.

Without hesitation, "Her name is La Tempête Noire"

With a wry smile, his mother replied, "Fitting."

Unlike his older brother Marlon, Marin took "Love As Thou Wilt" almost as a challenge. With his good looks and playful nature it is safe to say Marin has had plenty of bedfellows. As of now such varied trysts have not yielded fruit, which suits Marin just fine. His one true love and mistress is, and always will be, the sea. He realizes that there are circumstances that may lead to him ascending to the Barony of Bonifacio so he continues to put some effort into learning the nuances of the Court, politics and diplomacy so should that time come, he will not be a complete buffoon. Secretly he hopes that day will never come as it may spell the end of his days at sea, then again, perhaps not. Only time will tell.

Inspiration

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