Lucien Graven
Age Range: Appears mid-20s
Build: Thin and gaunt, with long, bony limbs
Height: Around 6'2", with a looming, still presence
Eyes: Pale gray, cold and unblinking, like frosted glass
Hair: Black, straight, and slicked back, always neat and in place
Facial Hair: Clean-shaven, emphasizing his hollow cheeks and sharp jawline
Clothing: Immaculate black suit, high-collared shirt, and polished leather shoes — always funeral-ready
Notable Traits: Moves silently, like a shadow slipping through a room. His gaze is unsettling, as if he’s already weighed your worth. The faint smell of cedar, cold stone, and embalming fluid lingers around him
Backstory
Lucien Graven, born in 1865, is the third in a line of undertakers, inheriting the business from his predecessor Edward and grandfather Mortimer Graven. His family’s legacy is steeped in death, each generation marked by mystery. Mortimer, the founder, vanished one autumn night, leaving his lantern swinging on a low branch. Edward, known as “Breaker Graven,” met his end in the woods, dragged into the mist by men he’d wronged. Their names are still whispered in town, but it’s Lucien who casts the longest shadow.
Unlike his predecessor’s iron-fisted rule or his grandfather’s compassion, Lucien’s presence is cold and silent. His pale, glassy eyes seem to see past people — as if he’s already measured them for a casket. He’s never seen arriving, but he’s always there when a body is brought in. Some say he never leaves at all. The inside of his parlor is a reflection of him — meticulous, quiet, and cold. Two ledgers sit on his shelf: one tracks the dead, the other, the living. Nobody knows why he keeps the second ledger, but rumors claim it’s a list of who’s next.
Lucien’s relationship with death goes beyond his trade. Miners speak of him showing up before the news of a death even reaches town. When a logger’s son drowned in the river, Lucien was seen on the shore before anyone pulled the body out. No one knows how he’s always in the right place, but many believe he’s "called" to it. His embalming room is known for the rhythmic tapping of three knocks — some say it’s the spirit of Mortimer, others believe it’s something trying to knock its way out.
Locals respect Lucien, but none truly like him. His presence unsettles, his silence unnerves, and his timing feels too perfect. The people of Shadewood Hollow come to him because they have to, not because they want to.
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