Morlois le Rouge
Kevin Durand
Kevin Durand as Morlois "le Rouge" de Willcott
Full Name: Morlois "le Rouge" de Willcott
Age: 24
Culture: Cymric
Religion: Roman Christian
Manor: Willcott
Class: Knight
Spouse: Sir Elsane de Willcott //nee// Stapleford Height: 6'4"
Father: Blainnen de Willcott Weight: 240ish pounds
Mother: Guenece de Willcott nee Pewsy Hair Color: Dark
Siblings: Sir Trindham de Willcott (27)
Sister de Willcott (25)
Father Garannon de Willcott (23)
Sir Meleri de Willcott (22)
Eirlys de Willcott (21)
2-3 younger
Eye Color: Dark
Children: Rhyecan, son (b. 513)

Warning: Morlois is not nice. But his player is. If any RP with him begins to feel uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to drop a page. I'm sure we can work something out.


Morlois was always The Spare. His elder brother was never even sickly, always annoyingly handsome and strong without a hint of a cough. It was disgusting, and frustrating. His brother got all of the attention, from their father, their mother, Sir Hywn, the Earl, and… well… just about everyone. The Heir was seen as a prodigal squire, destined to be a great knight, while Morlois was trained only to be a knight in case something tragic happened to his elder brother.

Even as a child, that sort of (relatively) benevolent neglect was bound to rankle, but rarely has anyone rankled as well as Morlois. The assumption that he was only there in case his brother failed, and the willingness of others to overlook him spiked the young page with spite. His brother got accolades and approval at every turn, and Morlois got a whole lot of 'oh yes, that's nice too.' And so his bad humor sat and stewed. By the time he was made a squire, he was a repressed wellspring of anger. And he was growing, too, getting bigger and bigger until he eventually over-topped everyone in his immediate family by at least a head.

The combination of size and fury was uncomfortable for those he sparred against to say the least. All too often, his sparring opponents ended up battered and bruised, as did those who barred his way and gave him an excuse to put the boot in. Still as a page, he began to be known as The Black for his black temper, and he began to get in trouble for it.

Morlois did not like getting in trouble, so as he became a squire, he learned to get sneaky, to find places where no one was watching to inflict the 'necessary' beatings, and to go a little harder in the spars, so that instead of leaving black eyes, he left bloody lips, broken noses, and other sharper wounds. But that's just what happens in spars, right? And it only happened to a few of his opponents, none too often and none too powerful. Morlois was learning. He also gained a new name, le Rouge: The Red.

Morlois may not have been the most well-liked squire, but he was effective, and he was learning how to play the game. That did not help a bit with his father, mother, and older brother, who wanted a paragon of knighthood among the family. His knight, Sir Bodain de Pewsy, was not horribly pleased either, but not so upset as his family. He cautioned Morlois that until he could control himself within the bounds of polite society, he could not be knighted. And so Morlois focused his bloody attention on helpless (and not-so-helpless) animals in the hunt.

As Morlois grew up, he discovered that battle quite agreed with him, not necessarily winning glory and strategic victories, but for sheer bloody-handed joy in inflicting pain. Of course, that joy led to him disobeying his knight a few times and remaining in combat after delivering a new weapon, new horse, or whatever was necessary, and that delayed his knighting as well. Eventually, however, at age 23 and midway through 513, he was finally knighted. Even though his elder brother had already been knighted and married for several years, Morlois was quickly married as well, to a cousin of the Stapleford line, Elsane. The woman may have been quite pretty, and even quite intelligent, but Morlois saw her status as a cousin as yet another insult thrown his way by his Father and elder Brother, and so he resented her from the start. This did not help foster any tender feelings toward one another, but she at least was ambitious, and in Morlois saw a way to fulfill that ambition.

During the winter of 514, Morlois discovered that his wife (Elsane) and her sister (Maeve) had been feeding him ever-increasing doses of poison since the marriage, and as he closed in on death over the winter, he confronted them, murdered them, and then died himself of the poison.


Morlois is a large man. A very, very large man. He is more than a hand over six feet, towering head and shoulders over most other knights. Those shoulders are likewise broad and heavily muscled, leading the way to limbs corded with steel, the limbs of a man whose life is physical activity. His forehead is broad, his jaw narrow beneath neatly-trimmed facial hair, and his features rough and thick. His nose has been broken and badly reset at least once, and his eyes are as dark as his coarse, short-cropped hair, heavy brow, and pointed goatee. He is not a pretty man, carrying more of the look of a day laborer than a nobleman, especially with heavy, scarred hands that are large even for his size.

He makes up for the roughness of his features with the richness of his dress, or at least the attempt toward it. His tunics are of fine make, the lower one a rich yellow approximating gold and the upper a dark black yet unbrightened by exposure to the weather. Hounds chase harts around the collar, also embroidered in that luxurious yellow-gold. His breeches are the same black, and a black leather belt wraps about his tunics, clasping them tight about his thick waist and holding a heavy sword at his right side. Black boots complete an outfit that must be devilishly hot in summer, for all its rich style.

On the Grid

Known Associates

Sir Ponce the Poncy, my beloved brother
trindham Asshole. Prig. Righteous pain in my ass. The golden boy.
The ice bitch, my lady wife
elsane An insult to begin with. She hunts, she is ambitious, and she produced a child, and that is the sum total of her usefulness.
The literal black sheep, my pious brother
garannon Had to throw someone to the monks, glad it was him. He was a mouse when he left, and a sheep now that he's back… at least outwardly.
The feisty mouse, my ferocious sister
meleri TBD
The little sparrow, my dear sister
eirlys Quiet and forgettable. Only her position in Hywn's court and her ears make her useful.

Recent Logs

(514-12-16) Willcott Investigation
Summary: Claire, Drustan and Letha travel to Willcott to investigate the murders of several Willcott...

(514-09-14) The Bigger They Are
Summary: Morlois makes a bit of a spectacle of his joust with a Dorsetshire knight. Date:...

(514-08-07) A Not-So-Wild Hare
Summary: Morlois and Eirlys make their way up to Horton and meet up with Wilhelm and Lydia. Date:...

(514-08-05) Tender Mercies
Summary: Idris is the worse for wear from medicine, and is left to the tender care of the Willcotts ...


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