Ranjit of Fort Hold is a weasel, a weasel who happens to be the secretary to Lady Terise of Fort Hold, but a weasel none the less. An attenuated, bitter man who can switch from silently sulky to car salesman slick in no time. Not someone to be trusted.
Picture One: Not a drawing of Ranjit, but Grand Moff Tarkin from "Star Wars" does hold a close resemblance to Ranjit in both looks and manners. Perhaps they're long lost brothers in the sci-fi universe.
Descriptions
Ranjit
Grey eyes stare out of deep, hollow sockets, looking agonized. Pepper grey hair is scraped into a rather sparse knob on the top of his head. His body is alarmingly thin, a concoction of bone and sallow skin, the gaunt appearance lending a look of false height. Monochromatic in appearance and tone.
A knot of Fort Hold yellow and brown is on permanent pompous display on his jutting shoulder.
Black and white and drab all over. Linen drapes from a round collar, the tunic belted at the waist and side-slit to mid thigh. An inconspicuously black vest is tossed over the shirt, dulled gold buttons fastened fastidiously. Beneath, grey cotton twill pants crease down to cuff over black leather shoes.
Ranjit's Suite
Lit only by a narrow, curtainless window and a symmetrical smattering of glowsconces, the room seems frighteningly shadowy at times. Office space takes up most of the room, an imposing desk being the only possible center of attention. Several shelves of files, scrolls, and books take over a large portion of one wall; the others are left blank and bare. Hidden carefully behind a smoky grey curtain, a small cot and clothespress are tucked into a corner as if sleep was a minor part of the inhabitant's life, a weakness not to be admitted to the general public. Minimalist to the max. History
Ranjit's history is scarce and mostly unknown. Few people, if any, know anything about him aside from the fact that he lied about being Lord Naslon's cousin and then somehow managed to weasel his way into a job as Lady Terise's secretary. The only thing known is the list of past jobs that he rattled off to both Norman and Sabin for the job, which goes something like this:
Ranjit sniffs slightly before firing off his resume, eyes steadily focusing on the back wall. It's almost trance like. "From eighteen to twenty-three I traded with a small caravan holding. At twenty-three turns I secured a job at Bitra Hold as an underling after which I rose to Assistant Public Relations Officer. At forty-five, I transferred to Nabol, first as a trader then back to Public Relations." In other words, it's been his life. There is a brief chuckle though as he adds, "There was a short stint as a cook at the beginning of Bitra. They fired me."
"I'm sorry," Norman says automatically to that last, while perhaps filing the rest of it away in memory for later. "May I ask why?"
Ranjit emits a tilted grin. "Because I was a horrible cook, but I had told them I was one. . .just to get hired." Pause. "That's when they put me in public relations."
Aside from that, there are the faint mentionings of something to do with Harper Hall once upon a time, but he's not one to give out personal information, so don't ask.
He was recently described by Tarin the Fortian blue rider as, "...someone lurking about Fort with agonized eyes, the bearing of Ethan Fromme, and the wardrobe of Poe."
