James Talbot

Name Sergeant James Talbot
Nationality English
Age Thirty-four
Appearance Medium height and lean, like a man long-accustomed to hard campaigning. His dark hair is receding back from his forehead and is slowly thinning. A dour, almost mournful, expression is perpetually on his face. Smiles are not often seen, but neither are frowns. His typical expression suggests an inability to become provoked to any emotion, good or bad.

The jacket he wears is patched and well-worn, a remnant from his early days with the regiment. A better-kept jacket is stowed, neatly rolled, in his pack. His trousers are in somewhat better shape, though they too show signs of wear. Two holes pierce through his shako, at the base of the plume. The plume itself sits at an angle, canted sharply to the left. The French ball that created the two holes also knocked the plume askance. He has made no effort to repair either blemish.

If his outward appearance could be taken as a sign, the sergeant would seem to be slovenly and ragged. Appearances often deceive. While his clothes seem to not be in the best repair, he takes care to patch them when necessary and is known to wash both himself and his uniform on those rare occasions that it's possible.

Personality traits Few men have ever heard him tell a joke and even fewer consider him capable of it. A sense of humour is something he has most likely forgotten he has. He sees things such as levity and humour as things for officers and is perfectly content to leave them to those with commissions. The lack of lighthearted wit hasn't yet detracted from his ability to perform his duties so he hardly considers it a loss.

From his men, he expects obedience and respect, and he usually gets it. As flat and dour as his personality is, he is no slouch as a soldier. He knows his business and is not above offering advice to other soldiers should he observe something amiss. Keeping his men alive is important. He does his best to look after their well-being, even if it's hard to tell so. This, to him, is the proper order of things. Men should believe their sergeants are hard-driving bastards but should follow them despite it. Or even because of it.

Blunt, often tactless, honesty is his trademark. He'll tell the truth to whomever asks it of him without regard for decorum. Sugar-coating things for the benefit of officers is stupid in his view. If an officer is thick enough to ask his opinion, he deserves to hear it. The same holds true for the men junior to him, though most are not bold enough for it. Those who have seldom do so again.

Who is authorised to play them Anybody with a need for a redcoat sergeant