________________________________________ Theobald Gaumond
Male | 42 | Veradis/ Rodion
Scion of Fire _______________________________________________
"It is said that a man is as strong as his will to succeed. If that is so, then that man's will can conquer the world." - An unnamed soldier on the Kaudus-Rodion warfront, circa 995
________________________________________ | "I was born for a world of conflict, yet it is the goddess herself who chose to pull me away from it. For what purpose then, was all the sweat made, blood split and the tears spent?
Holy Sigil Location
The side of his neck, over a long-healed wound that had nearly taken his life.
Appearance
A towering figure at six feet and nine inches of pure muscle, Theobald's physique is a testament to the life he lived before he became a Scion. Beneath his attire, his body is littered with scars, some recent but many old. A tapestry of every combat he's ever participated in, able to attribute each to an event by name. Usually dressed in formal attire, it is by choice that his wardrobe lacks what is considered casual clothing, continuing to live a soldier's life of duty and respect despite no longer participating in the wars between kingdoms.
Personality
The former soldier hides nothing in the way he interacts with others, speaking his thoughts plainly and succinctly without any attempt to obfuscate his intentions. When there is something pleasing to him, he is quick to acknowledge it and give praise, and similarly when he finds fault he will point it out and offer solutions and alternatives with no remorse. A no-nonsense man who believes its important to get to the core of an issue rather than beat around the bush, finding prompt actions and dealing with the consequences in the aftermath preferable to playing the social games that royalty and silver-tongued people play.
Despite this, he believes that following hierarchy to be important, the existence of order being the difference between people and savages, willing to hold his tongue when it is above his station to speak out. To Theobald, following the rules laid out by civilization are his way of keeping himself in check, self-aware of the fact that he isn't fit for peacetime and must forcibly acclimate himself to a conflict-free environment. Left to his own devices, he would indulge in his own desires with no regard for how they may seem to others, so it is with rigid structure that he suppresses himself every waking moment to act as a functioning member of society.
Biography
As a child, Theobald had grown up on the war stories that reached his small village, a forgotten corner of the Veradis where his father had settled to quietly build a family after the fabled war of 962. Helping with farm work in the mornings, and instilled with the virtues and teachings of the goddess by his mother during the afternoons, it was in the dead of night by his bedside that the young Theobald had his head filled with tales of grandeur. How his father had seen the legendary hero, Commander Fyodor in action, led into battle with a fervor that could only be described as the goddess' favor as the enemies of the continent were beaten into submission. Given those visions of grandeur every night, it was no wonder that as the boy became a young man, he set his sights on the Commander's kingdom of Rodion after he completed his pilgrimage across Veradis. He wanted to become a great a hero as the one he heard so much about as a child, and though his family thought it ridiculous for a commoner to reach for such heights, the emboldened teen listened to his heart rather than his head as he left the quiet life behind.
He was but fifteen when he first stepped upon Rodion soil, the frigid wasteland's greeting nearly stopping his journey at its first step. Entering the military under an age three years older than he actually was, Theobald was one of the many fresh cadets sent to support the Rosaria-Lanvaldear campaign. A cruel three years that taught the boy turned man how ill prepared he was for his dreams. Spending most of his time struggling to keep up with his peers as a mere farmboy with no formal training, by the time the war ended and he was returned to the capital city of Alvar, Theobald had nearly died dozens of times over with nothing to show for it. During one of his days in the city, painstakingly rethinking his decision to leave his homeland for a goal that seemed to be a pipedream, he learned of the country's national bloodsport, the arena. Rather than take additional training of the military, which he believed would keep him from building a legend as great as Commander Fyodor, he instead applied himself as an arena fighter despite the greater risk of harm to himself. Naturally taller than many his age, even as just a fresh eighteen year old the arena organizers thought highly of the would-be-fighter.
His time in the gladiatorial spotlight did not come easy, facing hardships unlike anything else he faced during the war. Expecting that his natural physique would let him overcome his lack of experience, the arena was his harsh lesson that strength wasn't everything, beaten left and right by every fighter under the sun. Seen as a laughing stock, he gained the moniker of "The Largest Loser", his losing streak as large as his body as he was forced to learn how to fight through trial by fire. But with each loss, his knowledge grew, with each wound he suffered he understood how to fight just a little bit more, eventually overcoming the wall between himself and the other fighters with a fighting style that took every failure as a learning experience. By the time he left the arena at the ripe age of thirty, satisfied with his growth and ready to build his legend, he had grown past his old moniker and became a fighter that was known in the arena as a beast that lacked the fear of death.
When he rejoined the military, Theobald quickly climbed the ranks, passing each rung with flying colors as his previous experiences colored the way he treated engagements with an unorthodox mix of arena combat and military training. By thirty-one he had gained his first medal, by thirty-three he reached a leadership position with troops under his command and led frequent missions to cull the monster population, and at thirty-four he was given a place at the Kaudus-Rodion warfront to fight in the constant war against the opposing empire. And by thirty-six, his name finally started to make waves in the military, the stories of a commanding officer who led his men with a ferocity of a dragon beginning for form amongst his fellow soldiers. Entrenched in war and only the echoes of a dream keeping his spirit alive, it was almost certain that he would be regarded as a prominent figure in the war effort if he were to continue his string of successful tours.
But on the eve of the final day of 997, his military achievements came to a sudden halt as he breathed out an all-consuming gout of flame during a heated battle on the war front that consumed both enemy and friendlies alike, saving him from a situation that could've cost the soldier his life but drawing undue attention to his battalion. Immediately, he was recalled from the battlefield, his military rank revoked as the church took him under their wing, revered as the newly exalted Scion of Fire rather than the esteemed commander he wished to be known as. Had it not been for his upbringing in Veradis, perhaps the former officer would’ve pushed more against his sudden upheaval from everything he knew.
Theobald, however, wisened by his years of constant strife, understood the need to follow orders, and allowed himself to be subjected to the torture that was leaving a nearly achieved dream in the dirt. It was the belief that he was simply changing his superior officers from the Rodion military to the church’s leadership that kept him sane, treating his confinement as simply waiting for future orders rather than a complete lack of military advancement. It is difficult to ignore ingrained habits, however, and more often than not acts as a headache for the clergy and his Templar whenever he instinctively attempts to return to the battlefield whenever news of conflict reaches his ears.
Weapon of Choice
Seeking versatility for his partner in combat rather than overwhelming force, Theobald's weapon of choice is a hybrid between a firearm and a longsword, a gunblade that utilizes the explosive force of the gun barrel for both recoil-enhanced blows and mid-ranged engagements. Even without it, however, his bare hands are weapons in of themselves should he find himself disarmed.
Misc.
- "Until my final breath, my fight is never over."
- As of writing this biography, Theobald has been the Scion of Fire for an agonizing two years.
- Before becoming a Scion, Theobald had a full head of hair and a pure black luster. With the stress that came from knowing he couldn’t continue to aid his fellowmen, however, the white hairs and growing widows peak revealed themselves.
- His only known hobby, outside the shared occupational disease of smoking and drinking among military folk, is the piano. He is not very good at it, and the expenses for his hobby wouldn’t be manageable if not for the wealth that came with becoming a Scion.
- The real life equivalent for his military rank when honorably discharged was Lieutenant Colonel. Soldiers of the battalion he once led occasionally visit, much to his chagrin.
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Obscene Symphony
Abstract Proxy
