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| Lucien d'Valrois
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Anzat
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18 ABY (age 25)
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d'Valrois Castle
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Anzati
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Male
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6'4
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80
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Black, long
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Red
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Clan Arcona
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Sith Sword
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Makashi-influenced
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Artist, Musician, Assassin
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Nau'ur-class luxury ship, the 'Castle d'Valrois'
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15059
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Lucien d'Valrois is an Anzati Sith in Clan Arcona.
Character History
House d’Valrois
House d’Valrois is one of the most feared and enigmatic noble lineages in the galaxy, its name whispered with caution even among the Anzati themselves. While most Anzati choose to live as wandering predators, the d’Valrois family cultivated the art of structured predation—folding hunger into politics, ritual, and legacy. For centuries, their estate on Anzat and secondary holdings on Corulag stood as monuments to refinement balanced with menace. Portraits of ancestors line marble corridors, their painted gazes cool and accusing, as if testing each generation to live up to the house’s grim renown.
The d’Valrois reputation was forged in blood and manipulation. Early progenitors were known for orchestrating wars in which they never raised a blade, but always reaped the rewards: feeding on fallen generals, absorbing the essence of poets, or enslaving rival houses through debt and psychic compulsion. Where other noble houses sought alliances, d’Valrois thrived on domination disguised as grace. To dine with a d’Valrois was to gamble one’s will; to cross one was to invite ruin.
Even within Anzati society, where predation is accepted, d’Valrois inspired unease. Their refusal to hide behind wandering anonymity—insisting instead on public grandeur, fine courts, and cultivated art—marked them as dangerously visible predators. This visibility was not weakness, but strategy. The house believed that power only mattered if it was displayed and feared. They became arbiters of style and slaughter, their family name synonymous with elegance and inevitable demise.
It is into this crucible of vanity, art, and terror that Lucien was born. Unlike many Anzati hybrids, whose hunger consumes them in secret, Lucien was trained from infancy to embrace the dual nature of his legacy: the courtly mask and the predator beneath.
Philippe and Marguerite d’Valrois
Lucien’s parents embodied the dual essence of the house, shaping him into what he is today.
Philippe d’Valrois, his father, was a strategist of cold ambition. Once a commander in a shadow war on Anzat, Philippe transitioned into politics when age dulled his battlefield reflexes but sharpened his wit. He raised Lucien to believe that the galaxy was a board, and people its pieces. He taught the value of patience—letting rivals believe they had the advantage until their collapse was inevitable. To Philippe, strength was meaningless unless harnessed by restraint and calculation. Lucien inherited this sense of measured predation, always striking with elegance rather than savagery.
Marguerite d’Valrois, his mother, represented the softer yet no less dangerous side of the family legacy. Known as a patroness of music and the arts, she hosted salons where poets and sculptors mingled with predators and spies. Many of her guests disappeared, their works later appearing in her private galleries. Marguerite instilled in Lucien a love for beauty—not just as ornament, but as weapon. “The galaxy,” she would say while guiding his small hands over piano keys, “bows to what it finds beautiful. Learn to embody it, and you will never need to raise your voice.”
Marguerite’s whispered teachings also carried the weight of the Anzati hunger. She understood that Lucien’s cravings could not be denied, only refined. She guided him to view feeding as art rather than savagery, choosing his victims with precision, savoring their essence as a composer savors each note.
Together, Philippe and Marguerite raised Lucien in a paradox: to be polished yet predatory, to embrace beauty while feasting on life.
Siblings and Relationships
Lucien was not an only child, and his siblings shaped him as deeply as his parents.
Sébastien d’Valrois, his elder brother, was a mirror and rival. Where Lucien was grace, Sébastien was severity—broad-shouldered, militaristic, more concerned with conquest than refinement. Sébastien considered Lucien frivolous, too enamored with beauty to wield power effectively. Their rivalry became a constant dance: Sébastien humiliating Lucien with brute displays of strength, Lucien retaliating with subtler manipulations that left Sébastien shamed without knowing how. This dynamic forged Lucien’s love of indirect dominance; he learned that brute force could win battles, but elegance won wars.
Vivienne d’Valrois, their younger sister, adored Lucien from childhood. She admired his grace, listened raptly to his music, and shadowed him through galleries and gardens. Yet her affection was tinged with fear. She witnessed his first feeding accident, when Lucien drained a servant nearly to death, and though she never spoke of it, her wide eyes revealed her knowledge. Lucien, in turn, viewed Vivienne as both confidante and pawn. He protected her fiercely, but also used her as leverage—a smiling presence that softened his reputation at court while reminding him of what innocence looked like.
The siblings’ bond was both a source of strength and vulnerability. Lucien often reflected that the d’Valrois legacy demanded competition even within bloodlines, and he accepted that love and rivalry would always intertwine.
Childhood and Upbringing
Lucien’s childhood unfolded under chandeliers and shadows. By day, he was drilled in the niceties of noble etiquette: bowing, dancing, courtly conversation. By night, he was tested in secrecy: Philippe would quiz him on politics, while Marguerite guided him through cryptic rituals disguised as bedtime stories. Each lesson reinforced a duality—the mask of civilization, and the hunger beneath.
He displayed unusual vanity from an early age. Mirrors fascinated him; he would study his reflection, perfecting expressions until his smiles seemed natural, his frowns effortless. He adored the flowing lines of formal robes, preferring silks and embroideries even as a child. His parents indulged this vanity, believing it strengthened his aristocratic persona.
Music and art became Lucien’s passions. He played instruments with near-obsessive devotion, learning how sound could sway mood and soften suspicion. He sketched obsessively, capturing not just forms but the energy of people, as though trying to preserve their essence before eventually consuming it. These pursuits taught him that beauty was a form of control—a truth he carried into adulthood.
Training with blades began at seven. His instructors quickly realized that Lucien’s natural grace made him an exceptional swordsman. Where Sébastien favored brute strikes, Lucien flowed like water, precise and elegant. Each duel became a performance: a chance to showcase both artistry and lethality. This balance of refinement and deadliness defined him.
Lucien’s Anzati nature revealed itself in adolescence. The first time he succumbed to hunger, it horrified him—yet also intoxicated him. His parents covered for him, but Marguerite whispered that it was natural, even noble. From then on, Lucien accepted his predation as part of his inheritance, weaving it into his identity alongside art, vanity, and charm.
By the time he reached maturity, Lucien was no longer a boy of contradictions but a young predator perfectly aligned with his house’s creed: elegance sharpened into menace.
Early Apprenticeships
Lucien’s formal apprenticeships began as carefully orchestrated steps in his father’s grand design. Philippe d’Valrois ensured that his son’s tutors were not merely academics or warriors, but masters of multiple arts: diplomacy, deception, and death. To the outside world, Lucien was a young noble honing his cultural polish. Behind closed doors, he was being shaped into a predator with infinite masks.
His first significant mentor was Maître Calladon, a fencing instructor from Corulag. Calladon was not merely a swordsman but a duelist whose reputation spanned half the Core Worlds. Under Calladon, Lucien learned that a blade was not a weapon of brute force but an extension of personality. Every stance, every feint, every thrust carried aesthetic weight. The duel was theatre, and the victor was often decided before the blades touched. Lucien excelled, surpassing older students with fluid grace and unnerving calm.
Parallel to his martial training, Lucien was apprenticed to Mistress Solenne, a court manipulator known for weaving influence through rumor and charm. Solenne’s teachings were more insidious than Calladon’s. She taught Lucien how to read the micro-expressions of a lie, how to twist truths until victims thanked him for the deception, and how to weaponize silence more effectively than words. Under her guidance, Lucien developed the mask of the charming aristocrat, a persona that would later disarm allies and rivals alike.
Perhaps most formative of all were his private lessons with Marguerite. While publicly a patroness of art, Lucien’s mother secretly tutored him in the rituals of hunger. She guided his first intentional feeding, instructing him not to devour recklessly but to savor, to consume not just the life essence but the artistry of his prey’s existence. Marguerite’s mantra—“beauty first, then power”—became a cornerstone of Lucien’s predatory philosophy.
By the time his apprenticeships concluded, Lucien was more than noble heir; he was a cultivated weapon. Swordsmanship refined his body, politics sharpened his mind, and predation awakened his true self. The apprenticeships instilled in him not only skill but belief—the conviction that he was born not just to exist in the galaxy, but to bend it to his will.
Early Missions
Lucien’s first missions outside Anzat were cloaked in both ceremony and danger. At seventeen, he was dispatched to Corulag under the pretense of “diplomatic exposure,” though in truth it was his initiation into the practical art of survival.
His earliest assignments were carefully staged hunts. Philippe arranged for Lucien to infiltrate minor political salons where the prey were chosen—mid-ranking bureaucrats, self-important merchants, lesser nobles. Lucien was expected to charm them, feed upon them, and leave no trace. Success was measured not in lives taken but in the subtlety of execution. Each mission reinforced the lesson: a d’Valrois predator never appears to be hunting, only entertaining.
As his reputation for refinement grew, Lucien was entrusted with more dangerous work. He orchestrated a scandal that toppled a rival house on Anzat by seducing its heir, feeding on him in secret, and planting evidence of betrayal. He participated in covert campaigns against pirate syndicates in the Expansion Region, not as a soldier but as a shadow—slipping into enemy camps, unraveling their morale with whispers and disappearances.
One of his most formative campaigns was on Alderaan, where he infiltrated a court as a visiting patron of the arts. There, he learned the intoxicating balance between admiration and predation: nobles adored his performances on the viol and piano, never suspecting that the composer they applauded was draining their confidants at midnight. This Alderaanian sojourn confirmed for Lucien that art and hunger were not separate paths but entwined expressions of dominance.
The missions instilled in him the art of wearing beauty as armor, using culture to mask his cruelty. By his mid-twenties, Lucien was already a whispered presence in noble courts, a figure remembered for elegance and charm but never tied to the disappearances that followed in his wake.
Romantic Relationships
Romance, for Lucien, was rarely about love. It was a weapon, a performance, and occasionally—though he would never admit it—a fleeting source of genuine vulnerability.
His earliest entanglement was with a fellow Anzat noblewoman, Élise Montréval, chosen more for alliance than affection. Their affair was passionate, but Lucien’s vanity soon turned it into a competition. Élise sought to dominate him as predator to predator, while Lucien sought to enthrall her utterly. When she finally attempted to feed on him, Lucien turned the tables, draining her to near death and leaving her broken. The scandal was quietly covered by their families, but the lesson endured: love was weakness, unless one held absolute control.
Later relationships were carefully curated. On Alderaan, he courted a duchess with music, enthralling her to the point of obsession. On Corulag, he seduced a military officer, then used her to funnel intelligence back to House d’Valrois. These liaisons blurred the line between romance and manipulation; for Lucien, the thrill was not in affection but in possession.
And yet, in rare moments, traces of sincerity emerged. His bond with his sister Vivienne colored his perception of intimacy—protective, indulgent, tinged with unspoken dependency. Those who glimpsed his softer side often found themselves both entranced and terrified, aware that beneath the charm lurked a predator who could never truly surrender.
Romance thus became another arena of performance, another mask to wear. Lucien used lovers as pawns, muses, or mirrors—but never as equals. To love Lucien d’Valrois was to dance on the edge of a blade, knowing beauty and danger were inseparable.
Discovery of Krath Teachings
Current Aims and Legacy
About Him
Personality
Physical Description
Lucien’s skin is pale to the point of chiseled alabaster, almost luminous under dim light, with a subtle cool undertone that gives him an ethereal, otherworldly appearance. His face is sharply sculpted, with high, angular cheekbones and a narrow jawline that emphasizes both elegance and predatory precision. A straight, narrow nose balances the symmetry of his aristocratic features, giving him the calculated refinement of someone accustomed to observing and controlling every detail.
His eyes are a piercing blood-red, the subtle corruption of the Dark Side visible in their depth, and framed by long, straight lashes that contrast with the sharpness of his gaze. They are narrow and slightly upturned at the edges, giving him an ever-present air of amusement and menace. When he fixes his attention on someone, it feels like his eyes are dissecting them, a gaze unsettling and yet alluring
Lucien’s hair is black, shoulder-length, and meticulously straight, falling in a sleek cascade that gleams faintly in light. Typically, he wears it tucked behind his ears, tied loosely at the nape, or pulled into a ponytail for combat—practical yet stylish, a visual extension of his controlled, deliberate demeanor.
His body is slender and wiry, deceptively lithe, like a cat ready to spring, with toned musculature trained for both agility and subtle strength.. Long limbs lend him a graceful, almost dancer-like poise, though there is a quiet power in every movement.
Lucien has no visible distinguishing marks, scars, or blemishes. Every aspect of his physical form is polished and deliberately maintained, giving him an appearance of both elegance and menace. Even in close quarters, his presence radiates refinement and danger, the perfect image of an aristocrat predator.
When standing still, he seems to effortlessly occupy the space around him: a sharp contrast of beauty and threat, like a raven perched at the edge of candlelight poised to strike, yet composed in every measured gesture.
Powers and Skills
Posessions