Character Avatar: Alan Cumming
Character Name: Orpheus
Age: Depends on who's asking and what character he's in. He frequently gives different answers, one of his favorites being that he hasn't been a day over 29 in years.
Rank/Title: A Gentleman/A Mendacant/The Emcee/A Chameleon
Race: An ambiguous, mixed bag of genetics with a fair dash of D'Angeline
Country/Province: City of Elua
Player: Merle
Appearance: What does Orpheus look like? A question with a hundred answers. That depends, is he in his mendacant's robes, looking rough and tumble and spinning a yarn for an unruly gaggle of street urchins. Or is he on the stage along side Ardor, telling a bawdy tale or performing some bit of mischief to thrill the audience? Even more, has he washed the powder and carmine from his face and donned the attire of a respectable, if unremarkable, gentleman? For Orpheus is all of these things, all and none and more.
Alas, there are some features that remain constant no matter his persona. His hair is always dark, his skin fair, his eyes a soft, warm brown, his nose crooked (though the story as to why this is so changes as frequently as the weather). He is of little more than average height at 5'9" and has a similarly average build. Despite these fairly mundane features, there is something intriguing about Orpheus that draws one in. Though when wearing the role of the unassuming gentleman, this little something is hidden to the casual observer, and only those who have his attention, or are especially perceptive, will take note of it.
Personality: Orpheus is a consummate liar, a player and a cheat... and most of the time he will tell you these things himself. His memory is sharp when it comes to his lies and he always seems to remember the name he's given you, the age, the tale he's spun -he's almost never caught in an untruth unless that was his intention all along. He assumes a different persona as easily as he breathes, and his personality is as malleable as his appearance. Will he be the quiet man taking his tea in the corner, nothing to make him stand out? A perfectly polite man when spoken to, would anyone suspect his duplicity? Will he be the storyteller, always with a smile and a laugh? Or the delightfully wicked emcee, at once alluring and unnerving?
The Gentleman: As stated, a quiet man. Not shy or incapable of conversation, only the type to be sparing with his words. The kind of man to find solace in solitude. Frequently seen in the company of tea and a book. There is not much remarkable about him, one might notice that his features aren't wholly D'Angeline, but neither does he strike the eye as a particular ethnicity. This may represent a mystery to some, but alas it appears to be a boring one. For those who've caught the gentleman's eye, or have seen some glint of mischief in his gaze, however, the mystery becomes far more intriguing... as does the man.
The Mendacant: A kind, friendly traveler hailing from the city of Marsilikos, the mendacant is always eager to offer a quick grin and an exciting tale. He most especially loves to share his gift with the downtrodden, the poor and huddled masses. The poor unlucky souls who could use the laughter, the hope of adventures and changing one's fortune. He's generous to a fault, and full of good humor. And yet... One can't help but wonder if there is something else to this seemingly simple, cheerful man. Especially when you see that gleam in his eye... and you aren't quite sure he meant that subtle double entendre.
The Master of Ceremonies: The incorrigible, witty, wonderfully quirky emcee of the Rabbit Hole. Cheerfully lecherous, masterfully bizarre, comical and creepy... a man that defies description. The act is something that simply must be seen. From simple stage make-up to the most elaborate, outlandish of costumes, a surprise is always in store. And the chemistry between emcee and Madame is always a delight to behold... the pair eliciting laughter, sighs and gasps of awe with their shocking antics.
The Chameleon: The gentleman, the mendacant, the emcee... only a sampling of the many faces of Orpheus. Ever changing, the man is a true chameleon, ranging from stealthy camouflage to the most brilliant colors. He could convince you easily that he is a sexual deviant... or a saint, that he is interested in women, men, both, or neither. That he is a prince, a pauper, an impoverished lord. That he has been to lands as distant as Ch'in and Jebe-Barkal, or that he's not ever left the City. Where does the tale end and the truth begin? Perhaps even Orpheus himself doesn't know.
History: Born Pierre del Valle, Orpheus was the result of a clandestine tryst between a well-to-do Aragonian merchant and the half D'Angeline daughter of a poor cobbler in the city of AmÃlcar. The merchant, and his wife, did not take kindly to the young woman's claims and she was forced to care for the babe on her own. Unable to handle the burden, she took ill when Pierre was but a young child. The cobbler wished to have as little to do with the bastard boy as his father, and the boy found himself on the streets. Taken in by the Tsingani, he was raised among them, wandered with them, and that's how he came to reside in Terre d'Ange.
...at least, that's the story Orpheus gave the half-Tsingani cobbler the week before last. It secured him a rather decent discount on his shoes, too.
The truth is that no one knows the truth. Orpheus has a different tale, a different name, a different origin for everyone who asks. Those who know him the best are only separated from the flotsam by the fact that they know his stories are lies... but even most of them are half convinced that the version he's told them is the real one.
This is the story as known by Madame Ardor, and the one he tells most frequently (though some of the details are, of course, subject to change):
Orpheus is from Marsilikos, at least that was where he was born and the place he hailed from last. His mother was a foreign visitor from shores unknown and his father, the son of a sailor and a man of mingled stock, a mendacant. While his father wandered, his mother stayed in the city awaiting the birth of their child. The mendacant returned occasionally to check on the woman, and was there when shortly after the boy's birth, his mother boarded a ship and left for her home.
The man gave his son the name Apollinaire Pontchartrain, found a wet nurse willing to travel with him, and set out from the city. Taking his son with him everywhere, the mendacant trained young Apollinaire to follow in his footsteps. He taught him how to lie with a smile, tell tales as if they were truths, and how to make a living doing so.
Eventually, after Apollinaire had reached his majority, in the way of solitary wanderers, father and son went their separate ways. As they both still considered Marsilikos their home, they knew they would eventually meet again. Following in his father's footsteps... by forging his own path, Apollinaire continued to travel and share his gift of storytelling. Unlike his father, however, he tended to linger if he liked a place, spending a year here, a year there. Then he would start to feel the wanderlust, his feet itching to take him back on the road.
In this way, he found himself leaving Marsilikos some four years ago. After meandering about Terre d'Ange the next six months or so, he finally landed in the City of Elua. He'd only been in the city for a few months when by some happy twist of fate, Orpheus (as he was calling himself now), found himself falling down a rabbit hole.
He was performing for a small crowd of onlookers the first time he met her. Ardor. In his travel-stained mendacant's robes, hair and face scruffy, Orpheus spun his yarn with flare and flourish. Then it was only a simple greeting, a smile and a bow. The next time he saw her, Orpheus had adopted a new role. Clean shaven in powder make-up, carmine on his lips, excessive kohl around his eyes. His hair was swept back and he wore a pair of knee breeches and an underbust corset. Instead of telling tales, now he was telling lewd jokes, entertaining a group of rowdy young men. And this time there was more than a smile and a bow. This time there was an introduction, an invitation and a promise made to visit her house of burlesque.
And the rest, as they say, is history. Orpheus has been the Master of Ceremonies at the Rabbit Hole for the past three years, longer than he's ever lived in one place. He may yet feel that urge to move on, or he may not, for now Orpheus is content in his place, in exploring and enjoying his new roles.
