SEVERUSMAX
Benevolent Master
- Joined
- Apr 1, 2004
- Posts
- 28,995
Samuel Duchamp had always wanted to see the land of his Huguenot ancestors, but he hoped to do so as part of a Confederate diplomatic legation, not as an exile from a conquered nation. Since he refused to bow to the damnyankees and accept their occupation of his beloved North Carolina, and since he still had money (unlike most of his countrymen), he had fled his home near Raleigh aboard in May of 1865, as soon as Johnston had surrendered to Sherman.
Well, at least, he thought....the summers here should be less taxing those back in Dixie. He thanked God that he had kept up with his French. He would need it here. Producing sufficient silver to get himself a room in a respectable hotel in Paris, he could see the Arc de Triomphe from where he looked out the window.
His wooden left leg, a relic of the Battle of Second Manassas, had always made awkward to stand up, and once again it did so. This wound had gotten him out of the Army of Northern Virginia, and resulted in him becoming first a civil servant in the State Department, before he made enemies and was forced to make his way as a blockade runner toward the end.
He just hoped that he didn't run into too many damnyankees while over here. He'd much rather meet fellow Southrons or even Britons, and he certainly planned to encounter some of the famous women of Paris.....the whores more than the more fashionable types who would, no doubt, look down upon a crippled Confederate veteran of the War of Northern Aggression.
The only question was: what would he do for a living? He couldn't join the Legion: he was in too bad of physical shape for more war. Maybe he could become a journalist....again, his fluency in French came in handy. He wondered if the Emperor allowed a free press once more, or if it was still repressed.
OOC: Looking for a female player, could be English, French, etc. I doubt that he would go for a Northern girl, of course, under the circumstances, given his animosity toward the Union.
Well, at least, he thought....the summers here should be less taxing those back in Dixie. He thanked God that he had kept up with his French. He would need it here. Producing sufficient silver to get himself a room in a respectable hotel in Paris, he could see the Arc de Triomphe from where he looked out the window.
His wooden left leg, a relic of the Battle of Second Manassas, had always made awkward to stand up, and once again it did so. This wound had gotten him out of the Army of Northern Virginia, and resulted in him becoming first a civil servant in the State Department, before he made enemies and was forced to make his way as a blockade runner toward the end.
He just hoped that he didn't run into too many damnyankees while over here. He'd much rather meet fellow Southrons or even Britons, and he certainly planned to encounter some of the famous women of Paris.....the whores more than the more fashionable types who would, no doubt, look down upon a crippled Confederate veteran of the War of Northern Aggression.
The only question was: what would he do for a living? He couldn't join the Legion: he was in too bad of physical shape for more war. Maybe he could become a journalist....again, his fluency in French came in handy. He wondered if the Emperor allowed a free press once more, or if it was still repressed.
OOC: Looking for a female player, could be English, French, etc. I doubt that he would go for a Northern girl, of course, under the circumstances, given his animosity toward the Union.
