[hider=This armor suits you, Arbiter, but it cannot hide that mark.][CENTER][h1][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/231108/f93ba5f96cecd177ca78468c60714d23.png[/img][/h1][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][SUP]________________________________________[/SUP][/CENTER][CENTER][COLOR=FFFFFF][b][color=00CCFF]Sir Tyler Morris[/color]
[/b][/COLOR]
[color=GRAY] Male [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] 25 [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] Estora 
Templar of[/COLOR] [color=ffd11a][b]Time[/b][/color][/CENTER][CENTER][SUP]_______________________________________________[/SUP]
[color=gray][i]"He has a lot of nerve looking so smug after such a colossal failure. The Commander should have him discharged- or worse."[/i][/color]
[SUP]________________________________________[/SUP]
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[center][h3][i][color=00CCFF]"Theo prayed for peace and it killed him. Rest assured, heretic dog, I will not make the same mistake."[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b][color=00CCFF]Minor Holy Sigil Location[/color][/b]
[indent]On his back, between his shoulder blades.[/indent]
[b][color=00CCFF]Appearance[/color][/b]
[color=FFFFFF][indent]Standing at a modest 5'11", Tyler cuts a lean, athletic figure as expected of a knight. His choice in clothing is very urban and modern, the look of a man who knows he stands in the midst of the magitechnical revolution and wouldn't dare to be behind the times. He's also notoriously unfond of formal wear, to the point where any event that requires him to be in uniform is expected to include at least one dressing down by Commander Fyodor about his outfit not being up to standards.[/indent][/color]
[b][color=00CCFF]Personality[/color][/b]
[indent]On the surface, Tyler is far from the chivalric ideal. He carries himself with a blasé, devil-may-care attitude that speaks to either arrogance or laziness. He's competent when he deigns to act - as any Templar should be, though ideally this should be all the time - but his conduct leaves a bit to be desired and his outward displays of piety are lacking. He revels fully in the celebrity status he has, even if it's only leeched off the Scion he used to serve, and has been rumored to engage in vices completely unbecoming of a man of the Church. Still, he holds a tension in his frame that wasn't there before his infamous failure, and every set of eyes on his new charge has him coiled tight like a cobra ready to strike.

Truthfully, he holds a deep-seated anger - at Kaudus, at the world, at [i]himself[/i]. He blames himself for his previous Scion's death, believes that, had he not been so lax, he could've prevented his disappearance despite the circumstances of it being completely out of his hands. The only reason he hasn't relinquished his knighthood in shame is the thought that the killers might still be out there, laughing at his failure. To that end, he's grown reckless, and now moves with something of a deathwish, believing that he will atone for his dishonor with either his own life or that of his Scion's killers.

The only thing he will abide less than allowing an enemy to live is allowing another Scion to come to harm, and he takes his charge deathly serious after graciously being allowed a second chance, even if he may not show it. Likewise, the casual irreverence Tyler shows to others does not extend to Scions, whether his own charge or others, seeing them as precious gifts from the Mother that need be cherished and protected, not babysat as has become the norm for Templars of this age.[/indent]
[b][color=00CCFF]Biography[/color][/b]
[indent]Tyler's story did not begin glamorously. He had no storied pedigree, no family fortune to inherit; his father was an adulterous drunk and his mother suffered his neglect for the sake of her family. He was a troubled youth, one that misbehaved and got into fights, petulantly lashing out against a world he believed had wronged him by the circumstances of his birth. His salvation was found in the form of a kindly minister in his community who suggested he seek a new life in the Church if his current one was so intolerable. Tyler took him up on it.

But he was still young, and could not grasp what it meant to serve the Mother. He wanted to be cool, to be strong, to be a [i]knight[/i]. So, Tyler was assigned as a page to a middling clergyman in Veradis. The work was tedious and boring, but the environment was certainly an improvement and, more importantly, he got to train with the squires sometimes. It was a relief when he reached squirehood himself and could cast aside such busywork to devote himself fully to more physical pursuits, though with his assignment to a true knight - an Estoran man by the name of Sir Robert Farrington - came more chores, to his chagrin. Sir Robert was a grueling taskmaster, one that shaped Tyler into a capable combatant but ensured there was no love lost between them, at least from Tyler's perspective.

In a way, Tyler felt cheated. Knighthood wasn't the chivalric ideal he'd imagined as a boy; he got to gallivant around the Estoran countryside at last, but it was dirty and terrifying, and he had to stand at a safe distance with a rifle in his hands and hope Sir Robert handled whatever beasts they'd been tasked to slay before something else leapt out of the woods to eat him. Sword drills consisted of him being smacked around until his bruises had bruises, never being allowed to feel success. Even the pitiful stipend he was allowed as a squire was denied to him, as he sent it home to his mother out of whatever lingering sense of filial obligation he possessed. It was the powerlessness of back home with all the danger of the frontier. Sir Robert, doubtlessly better at training soldiers than raising children, simply had the boy channel this frustration into his training.

By the time Tyler was knighted, he had been honed into a weapon as bitter as it was effective. Yet whenever he was pitted against other knights in friendly bouts, he could only begrudgingly give credit where it was due; Sir Robert had given him what he asked for. He was the powerful knight of his dreams at last. It made him cocky. When he was nominated for the position of Templar, it only made his head bigger. Duty and piety had no hold on him, Tyler wished only to relish in his success. He felt he deserved to relax and enjoy the luxuries of his new life at last after such an arduous path, and the task of babysitting a powerful figure would surely let him do just that. After all, what danger could befall a Scion?

When he was introduced to his new charge, however, he was captivated. The new Scion of Time, a relative of Estoran royalty by the name of Theodore Dainn Estora, was a charming young man with a natural magnetism that lent itself well to his position. They were introduced, went through all the pomp and ceremony, and then he reached down and touched the kneeling Tyler's back, as if willing an angel's wings to sprout then and there. In a way, they did; he took flight on the wings of time, elevating him to that ephemeral space beyond man but below the divine that Theodore occupied. He truly felt the call of the Mother there for the first time, he thinks.

The Scion was not the disciplinarian Tyler had grown accustomed to serving; he asked for little, and interested himself not in acts of war but in peaceful overtures that might prevent them. Had they not been peers, Theodore might've been the role model Tyler had sorely lacked in his life. He was good company, clearly meant for great things yet willing to let Tyler play at the fame and wealth he'd ever dreamed of as Theo pulled him into the whirl of his existence on a path to change the world for the better. Theo was a blinding star, and Tyler was content merely to be caught in his orbit; he would've followed him to the ends of the earth with only mild complaining.

Without him even realizing, it had made him dangerously complacent. Their shared story ended on an innocent trip; Theodore had wished to visit the previous Scion of Time's Templar, since retired, and dragged Tyler along on a trip through dreary Doumerc. Careless as he was, he entertained Theo's foolish idea to go on ahead, and despite assurances that Theo would most certainly be back in a half hour, the proposed time rolled around without a Scion in sight. Naturally, Tyler set out in search of him and, upon finding Theo's transport abandoned, called for a full contingent of knights to investigate. They never did find Theodore.

They assured Tyler that it wasn't his fault. That hurt far worse than any reprimand he'd ever received. He tried to bury his guilt by throwing himself into the search for their missing Scion, in cries for blood, in earnest pleas to unleash him upon the enemies of the Goddess like the sword of Time that he was. Given their proximity to the border, Tyler thought it obvious who the culprits were; Theo had wanted nothing but peace with Kaudus, yet those godless savages dared to spit in his face for it. 

His grief came to a head months later, in the instant he felt his blessing fade. His friend and charge was no longer missing. He was dead. The only thing that stopped Tyler from marching across the border and cutting a swathe through every Kaudian he could find was the group of Church knights who stopped him and reminded him - violently - that he no longer held the borrowed power of the Goddess, and he'd be cutting no swaths through anything before dying a pointless death.

To make matters worse, he was never punished for it. People talked, of course, but the Commander saw his devotion to his Scion after Theo's disappearance as proof of his honor and not the guilty flailings of a failure. It was early in his career, and he was informed that he was to remain a Templar for a new Scion, in the event such a tragedy was attempted again. It was a kinder act of penance than he deserved, but it was his nonetheless.[/indent]
[b][color=00CCFF]Weapon of Choice[/color][/b]
[indent]Though Tyler is a competent marksman, the speed previously afforded to him by his Scion's blessing led to him favoring a Rodion mana saber in most engagements. Since Theo's presumed death and loss of his magic, Tyler has reverted to toting a semi-automatic carbine, regardless of how appropriate it might be for the situation, and a concealed handgun as a backup.[/indent]
[b][color=00CCFF]Misc.[/color][/b]
[list][*]Prior to Theodore's disappearance, Tyler was very active on social media and was one of the public's most consistent sources of information on the Scion along with unflattering pictures of the both of them. He also notoriously responds to any hate comment with some variation of [i]"send location, i'll pull up"[/i].
[*]Historically, he's never been one for scripture beyond going through the motions as a knight is expected to, though he's recently taken more of an interest in the word of the Mother, particularly those passages dealing with forgiveness and death.
[*]He still sends money back to his family, though he keeps his contact otherwise minimal.[/list]
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[hider=Oh dear, another dogged contender][CENTER][h1][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/231113/224a1e50995594608ff5dd39e246b666.png[/img][/h1][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][SUP]________________________________________[/SUP][/CENTER][CENTER][COLOR=FFFFFF][b][color=BB8F4C]Sir Zacharie Chaudoir[/color][/b][/COLOR]
[color=GRAY] Male [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] 23 [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] Doumerc 
Templar of[/COLOR] [color=7DF9FF][b]Lightning[/b][/color][/CENTER][CENTER][SUP]_______________________________________________[/SUP]
[color=GRAY][i]"I think the friar just asked the Templar of Shadow to charge his car, confused him for a mage. Weirdest part was he actually did it."[/i][/color]
[SUP]________________________________________[/SUP]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/8b6edd57-a01b-43ad-b232-c58bf1cedf28.jpg[/img][/CENTER]
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[center][h3][i][color=BB8F4C]"I've spent my whole life on the precipice of total darkness. I think this assignment quite suits me."[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b][color=BB8F4C]Minor Holy Sigil Location[/color][/b]
[indent]On his left palm.[/indent]
[b][color=BB8F4C]Appearance[/color][/b]
[color=FFFFFF][indent]Zach appears as any Church mage does, an unimposing figure in clergy robes, often cowled and always visored. Even outside of his uniform, he keeps his eyes veiled behind an ostentatious magitech mask at nearly all times, which contrasts greatly with otherwise unassuming attire. His choice in clothing is humble and overly casual, preferring the trappings of a mage to true formal wear in the event something more elegant is required.[/indent][/color]
[b][color=BB8F4C]Personality[/color][/b]
[indent]Despite the impassive visage put up by the visored mage, Zach is quite warm and personable, believing that Church outreach should come from a person first and an envoy of the faith second. The Church has enough distant figures beyond the reach of the average person, he believes, and the strength of the clergy lies in their ability to connect with the laity on a personal level. In fact, Zach believes he should invest special effort into this task, to push past the image of a faceless monolith of the Church that his uniform tends to present him as. 

Likewise, he has a strong sense of charity, and this general helpfulness spills over into nearly every aspect of his being; he's eager to please and ready to aid however he can. He believes no child of the Goddess should be made to suffer unduly, and he obediently follows the words of the Church in the belief that they are the guiding hand most capable of doing good. In short, he's a giant puppy.

Still, he is not so naive that he believes he can end all misery, painful as it is to admit. Even were he blessed to be a Scion, no elemental might in the world could approach the divine benevolence of the Mother's realm. So, like a medic triaging the injured, Zach merely tries to do the best he can with the resources he has. And if the resource happens to be a Scion, more power to him.[/indent]
[b][color=BB8F4C]Biography[/color][/b]
[indent]Some forests in the realm were simply not made for man; they were the domain of beasts, drunk on mana and fat with arcane ferocity they should not have. Man sought to tame them anyway, as was his nature. It was on this frontier in rural Doumerc that Zacharie Chaudoir was born. At the age of three, his family learned he was a mage. It was considered auspicious; though mages were hardly common in their little backwoods community, they were highly cherished, as they maintained the defenses that kept the monsters away and allowed everyone to continue their lives without fear. Such auspices were proven wrong when, at the age of seven, Zach's family learned he suffered from a degenerative eye disease. The Mother gaveth and the Mother tooketh away.

It made for a nerve-wracking childhood, at least from his family's perspective, as even competent men had to watch themselves out in the fields lest they fall prey to a stalking monster, let alone a half-blind child. Zach spent much of his time glued to his older brother's side, as it was the only way he was allowed out of the house. Officials from the Church visited the little village often, whether to investigate the latest monster attack or shore up the settlement's defenses or even just to provide succor to the families of the departed, and, brother in tow, Zach was always among those who would head out to greet them.

They often took pity on the boy, and through the Church he was given a magical education and medical care he'd never be able to access from a remote settlement otherwise. When he was fourteen, he left home to join the Church entirely. It was probably for the best; life on the frontier didn't suit a cripple, as dubiously as that title could be applied to Zach, and his magical talent would be far better honed in a more civilized locale. But in Zach's mind, this was not merely an arrangement of convenience. He did not consider himself unfortunate, not compared to others out there in the world or even in his hometown. If the Church could give to him so freely, he believed the Mother would want him to pass such generosity on to those who truly suffered.

Zach spent the remainder of his teens in training as a Church mage, honing his Goddess-given gifts to uplift and defend. No mere position in a city cathedral would do for him, he wanted to be on the edge of conflict, where misfortune struck the hardest, where people most needed a hero. He volunteered for public works projects and charity drives across Doumerc and beyond. The moment they slapped a magitech visor on his face and the world was no longer a haze, he felt as though he could face the world and prevail, even if the realities of aiding those in squalor fell short of his ambition.

He was content with this, until he witnessed a Scion in action for himself. A logistics issue in the Doumercène countryside led to delays in an infrastructure project Zach was involved in, the recovery effort of a gruesome attack by Kaudian radicals that ravaged the settlement. It seemed word had spread, as the Scion of Lightning herself made an appearance in the wake of the news of the delay. Rather than wait the days or even weeks it would take to muster enough mages to power the project, Marchioness Lucienne made up for their shortcomings singlehandedly, and committed her personal resources to the aid efforts besides. 

It was there Zach realized he had simply not been dreaming big enough. The Scions were the hands of the Goddess on Gaia, and in their blessing was the closest earthly expression of Her benevolence. While he would surely never be among their number, he could walk as closely to them as possible. Guide their talents to more fruitful ends, even, given how some seemed content to laze about. So, he requested consideration for Templar candidacy.

He was certainly not the most standard applicant. Nevertheless, his magical aptitude spoke for itself, and he was nominally a knight of the Church by virtue of serving as a mage. The physical training he was subjected to after was certainly something new, but he [i]did[/i] technically ask for this. By the time a position under a Scion had actually opened up, Zach had been honed into something Dame Irina called... passable. If he still had nightmares about being forced into sprints, that was between him and Incepta.[/indent]
[b][color=BB8F4C]Weapon of Choice[/color][/b]
[indent]Zach favors his innate magic over any physical weapon, though he does carry a crystalline scepter as a casting implement that can be used to dole out blunt force trauma in a pinch.[/indent]
[b][color=BB8F4C]Misc.[/color][/b]
[list][*]Despite common opinion, Zach isn't [i]totally[/i] blind, though he finds magitech to be a much more elegant solution than pushing the limits of optometry.
[*]Zach has yet to experiment much with the elemental magic granted by his blessing, instead using the investiture of mana to augment his existing magical skill. He certainly doesn't think Shadow is the most interesting of elements, in any case.
[*]Thanks to his Scion, he's gotten quite practiced at exploiting the mana sensors in his visors to discern the difference between an illusion and a real person. Or at least he thinks he has.
[*]He's terrified of Dame Irina and will put at least one obstacle between her and himself at events.[/list]
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