[hider=Marqué, Templar of Fire][CENTER][h1][COLOR=#a44b28]Marqué[/COLOR][/h1][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][SUP]________________________________________[/SUP][/CENTER][CENTER][COLOR=FFFFFF]
[b][color=#a44b28]Marqué[/color]
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[color=GRAY] Male [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] 25 [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] Dourmerc
Templar of[/COLOR] [color=#FC4900][b]Fire[/b][/color][/CENTER][CENTER][SUP]_______________________________________________[/SUP]
[color=#a44b28][i]"The boy is the picture of devotion, discipline, and selflessness. For better and for worse."[/i][/color]
[SUP]________________________________________[/SUP][/CENTER]
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[center][h3][i][color=#a44b28]"Your Holiness, it is the duty of a Templar duty to serve you til their dying breath. Nothing more, and nothing less."[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b][color=#a44b28]Holy Sigil Location[/color][/b]
[indent]Over his heart, same as his Scion[/indent]
[b][color=#a44b28]Appearance[/color][/b]
[color=FFFFFF][indent]The Templar is not the most standout individual, as is prefered. They stand at an unimpressive height of 5'2, with hair that is kept short and unstyled and amber-gold eyes that hold little in the way of emotion. Some would say they even lack a spark of life. His tanned skin is covered in a tapestry of old scars and strange runic patterns. If asked why he keeps them, despite the technology to make such unseemly blemishes being easily accessible for one of his rank, he only states that they're to be a reminder. 

Beneath the scars is the physique of a solider and athlete, built out and maintained through a constatn work-out regimine and strict diet. It often is hidden beneath baggy, non-descript clothing, to better keep his appearance unseen and unnoticed when not on official business. He has no real sense of fashion, or really any preference in aesthetics. The only outwardly notable feature aside from his scars is that his eyes changed somewaht when he became a templar. Moments of intense emotion oftne cause a ring of burning firey mana to form along the edge of his pupil, one of the few indicators of emotion that any can grasp from him.[/indent][/color]
[b][color=#a44b28]Personality[/color][/b]
[indent]Marqué does not feel.

It is a constant thing said about the Templar and it is true in some ways, but not others. Phyiscally, it is as true as can be. Whatever the purpose of the experiements preformed on him in his youth, they have taken from the young man any capacity to feel physical sensations. Pain, Pleasure, warmth, cold, even exhaustion. HIs body does not communicate any of the information to him, and it has lead to him to often treat his body as an expendable resource more often than not. He pushes himself far beyond when a reasonable person would stop, and while he has gained enough of a sense of self to know his limits, this was a years long process that has lead to him being on a first name basis with every medical professional within the Church, and a few outside of it.

Emotionally. . . it is only partially so. It would be more accurate that, in this case, Marqué does not allow himself to feel. To do so would invite weakness, invite complications, would get in the way of the duty he has sworn himself to. The only thing he really things give his life worth. The Goddess deemed him to survive where so many others did not. The Goddess deeemed him as worthy of saving when both before and during that horrible experience, he had hurt many people. He was no devout follower, he had cursed her name many a night as starvation and pain took him, back when he still felt such things. But she had deemed him worthy of survival.

Or so he Marqué tells himself, because the alternative thought, which dogs at his mind every day, invites a creeping dread that he refuses to let win. It had to be for something.

It had to be.[/indent]
[b][color=#a44b28]Biography[/color][/b]
[indent]Marqué is not the name that the Templar was born with. In truth, it's part of a designation, a word heard time and again in the midst of the drug-addled haze that are his memories. He can barely recall life before his kidnapping, though he had the sensation it was not much different than his imprisonment. He had no one but other urchins that struggled to survive in the streets of some Dourmerc township. No parents, no caretakers, just his own wits and hands. Sometimes he was hurt, other times he hurts. Sometimes he went to bed hungry, and other times, he managed to find some scraps to hold it off. And in the tangled threads of these memories, the threat of starvation was replaced by a different pain.

Agony that laced through his veins, the sensation of strange chemicals and mana being injected into his young body. Bright lights and sharp pains as he was pushed out before other kids, bigger ones and smaller ones, and forced to hurt them. THey were told to do the same to him. They never knew why, and knew better than to ask. That continued for a long while, a constant treadmill of isolation  and pain that left him unsure if he was even still alive. He stopped speaking, as no one would ever respond. He stopped thinking, as thoughts only served to tourment him. And thus, when he stopped feeling. . . it barely made a difference, though the adults who prodded and examined him seemed excited.

And then. . . the Goddess came.

It was in a burst of action that she appeared before him, with hair like fire and a large blade in hand. She was followed by a familiar scent of iron that hung thick, with more voices behind her that cried out in horror and disgust. It wouldn't be till much later that the boy would learn that it was not the Goddess, but a mercenary by the name of Axan who saved him, not the goddess. But he still held onto that feeling, that the Goddess had come to lift him out of his misery. It kept him from slipping entirely into the darkness of unspoken thoughts, where the eyes of so many unclear faces stared back. They shared no features with him, but they all bore the same name. They all were Marqué. They all could have been him, if they had been luckier, and he had run out of it.

And so, like the scars, like the runes, the name became a reminder. Marqué was not a name. Marqué was not a person. Marqué it was a designation, and the boy just happened to be chosen for it. And so, in his mind, he had to be chosen for a reason.

So he became a squire for the church knights, htne a knight himself, and then a Templar for the very same woman who saved him, though she did not recognize his face. If Marqué was a person, that may have stung, but it was better this way. Marqué was not meant to stand out, as it would make the work harder. He had dedciated himself to helping others, saving others as he had been saved. Be it monsters born from Mana or monsters born from Men, he decicated himself to their end.[/indent]
[b][color=#a44b28]Weapon of Choice[/color][/b]
[indent]Marqué prioritizes no singular weapon, but instead works to have a knowledge of as amny as he can feasibly learn to an acceptable degree. THere are few weapons which he is not at least proficient with and he has made sure to inscribe several transport runes to summon them to his side at a moment's notice. If Marqué was to have a preference, it would be with knives and small caliber fire arms, which can be used in nearly any enviornment with ease, but he also keeps a runes for a spear, a sword, and a rifle on him, and knows how to use a number of other weapons. 

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[b][color=#a44b28]Misc.[/color][/b]
[list][*][url=https://youtu.be/VpsRbs-pN8k?si=RAsYylXz4JmDyoBH]"I know writers who use subtext. . . "[/url]
[*]Marqué is a rather skilled mage, though his ability to learn is strangely more. . . instinctive than what one would expect. He cannot really explain the theory of most spells as well as one would expect, but if given time to try to cast a spell, he can typically figure it out, though this is often only for small scale spells. Larger spells are much beyond his ability to intuit.
[*]As a consequence to his lack of ability to feeel much of anything, the Templar was worked hard to learn as much as he can about medicine and first aid and thus has taken to keeping a kit on hand for any occassion. While certainly skilled in the craft, his lacking of feeling also means that he takes to first aid more like a mortician works a cadaver, with little care to the comfort or pain of the patient.
[*]His knolwedge of medicine has also spread into him learning more than a few details on several poisons, and he's taken to building up a tolerance to many common ones as part of his duties as a Templar. He has not told his Scion of this, but he often checks her meals in places where he does not fully trust the staff. 
[*] While skilled in many areas of both combat and service, Marqué is absolutely clueless in matters of decorum, manners, or anything not tied to the duties he thinks are most important for a Templar or Knight to perform. This has lead to many an misunderstanding with those not used to his quirks, and as a Templar, even a few near international incidents as he unknowingly snubs an important figure in some manner. 
[*]Marqué has no hobbies, instead putting all of his freetime into training or learning more things for his job. This has often lead to many to thinking him to be some sort of advanced machine or even a spirit than a normal person, and his tendency to embrace pain or discomfort without complaint has done little to dissuade that.[/list]
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