Marcel is a man who no longer holds illusions. When your wife-to-be is taken from you, and the men responsible go unpunished, most would say that Marcel had cause to do what he did. But a Paladin does not seek vengeance. A paladin does not slay without quarter. And Marcel is a Paladin no longer. Mitra has made Talingarde rotten with hypocrisy. How can they preach justice when they will not mete it out?

How many other rapists, murderers, and perpetrators of other heinous crimes had gone free unpunished? How many times had Marcel stood idly by, and done nothing to avenge the deaths of those killed and hurt without cause? That would happen no longer.

The former knight was rather publicly stripped of his name, his knighthood, and formally expunged from The Knights of Alerion, Marcel can no longer "fly with eagles". He is bound to the ground for the crime of realising the truth - the kingdom of Talingarde has grown fat and weak under the auspice of Mitra. And every day, the common folk and the soldiery pay the price for the poisoned apple of 'freedom'.

There is something very wrong with Talingarde. A cancer has taken root within it. And Marcel is just the man to cut it out.

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Handsome and with a noble countenance, Marcel is the very image of the 'knight in shining armour' that features in so many penny dreadfuls. Powerfully muscled and lithe, Marcel has all the grace of a dancer, and the thews of an athlete. Not bulky and unshapely like some, Marcel has made his fair share of women (and the odd man) weak at the knees for the sight of him. His body is crossed with scars, and his hands are calloused from countless drills on horseback and with blade, bow, and lance. His calm blue eyes survey people and rooms with the casual intensity of one used to battle.

Bloodshed, pain and fear are all things that suit Marcel like the proverbial duck and water. If that duck also possessed a dark appetite for flirting with death. He has never admitted it, but adversity lights a fire in him that is hard to quench - a fire that has seen him regarded as someone who will one day rise to become the greatest warrior Talingarde has ever seen since The Victor.

But it is a mistake to think of him as a stupid brute, only suited to battle and bloodshed. He is charismatic and charming, as comfortable within high society as he is riding in the joust, or fighting off enemies. He is canny and wise, as personable as he is nimble, and possesses the strength of a half-dozen men. He is a force to be reckoned with, indeed.