[hider=im a scholar and a gentleman, and i usually dont fall when i try to stand][CENTER][h1][COLOR=880808]ALASDAIR[/COLOR][/h1][/CENTER]
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[CENTER][SUP]________________________________________[/SUP][/CENTER][CENTER][COLOR=FFFFFF]
[b][color=880808]Sir Alasdair Argyll[/color]
[/b][/COLOR]
[color=GRAY] MALE [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] 40 [/COLOR] | [color=GRAY] ESTORA
Templar of[/COLOR] [color=black][b]SHADOW[/b][/color][/CENTER][CENTER][SUP]_______________________________________________[/SUP]
[color=GRAY][i]"Bad men are full of repentance."[/i][/color]
[SUP]________________________________________[/SUP][/CENTER]
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[center][h3][i][color=880808]"Now, that's the fortunate thing. Turns out, I have two guns. One for each of you."[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b][color=880808]Holy Sigil Location[/color][/b]
[indent]Right cheek[/indent]
[b][color=880808]Appearance[/color][/b]
[color=FFFFFF][indent]Tall, broad-shouldered, and lean like a predator, Alasdair possesses an innately commanding figure, even before one considers his position within the Church or his reputation for recklessness. He carries himself with an easy, devil-may-care confidence and pride, his russet eyes doing little to veil the depths of his emotions, be it the regular glint of mischief, the adrenaline-drunk gleam of excitement in the face of conflict, or even uncharacteristically cold malice reserved for those who have earned his genuine wrath. His hair is a wild thing, a mane of auburn that threatens to stick this way and that, able to kiss his lower back when worn at its longest, though often kept in check by a length of valiant silk ribbon to keep its bulk contained. By contrast, his facial hair is rather neat and tidy, a fiery goatee that shields his chin against the elements. His skin is as pale and smooth, the sort of complexion earned by a man whose relationship with the sun could be described as tumultuous on its very best day. That is not to say that his flesh is unblemished, however. A lifetime of thrill-seeking has left him with no shortage of scar tissue and the stories that accompany it, the most prominent being the heavy shrapnel wounds which mar the right side of his face.

Though it cannot be described as ostentatious, Alasdair’s wardrobe is befitting a man of his status. His button-up shirts are fine in their fabric, his dark trousers tailored for his long and lithe physique, and his boots cut from fine Lorenzian leather. While the underlying layers change as necessitated by season or climate, there do remain some familiar constants. Chief among them is his dark, ornamented duster, which has acted as his constant companion since his earliest days within the Ordo, and the matching wide-brimmed hat that has guarded him against the elements for just as long. After sustaining significant wounds fighting Kaudus in his youth, he also dons a half-mask on the right side of his face. Conveniently, this is also the place his Holy Sigil manifested—he considers it to be a sign of the Goddess’ humor, claiming it to have been kissed by her.[/indent][/color]
[b][color=880808]Personality[/color][/b]
[indent]Stubborn, irresponsible, insubordinate, childish. The litany of descriptors assigned to Alasdair over the years paints a distinctly unkind picture of the man. Many of them, by his own admission, are warranted. He has always been a man ruled by his impulses and desires first and foremost, and even years wandering the continent have not broken him of his devil-may-care nature. Indeed, he considers his many sins to be some of his greatest strengths. Where one may see recklessness, he sees audaciousness; where some decry foolhardiness, he declares bravery. He is nothing less than the combination of his many flaws and their accompanying boons.[/indent]
[b][color=880808]Biography[/color][/b]
[indent]TLDR; noble brat leaves home, goes to explore world, becomes mercenary, gets his face blown off, comes to god, meets a girl, becomes a templar, hunts witches, discovers girl is a witch, kills girl-witch, is sad, finds new girl (no smooch).

Born the eldest son of the Earl of Blairmore, it was Alasdair’s fate to follow in the footsteps of his forefathers and take over stewardship of the meadows and marshlands that made up their ancestral lands. For generations, his people served as stalwart defenders of their remote stretch of border march, fending off incursions from Doumerc and Veradis in the years before Unification by the strength of their will and arms. Were such a fate to await him, perhaps Alasdair may well have stayed with his kin. But he was not cut from the cloth of an administrator of pasture and paddock: his fate was that of a bolder sort. It was of little surprise, then, that on the eve of his majority, Alasdair forsook his inheritance, insisting the family’s estate be instead given to his younger brother. He packed all that he could, bid farewell to his mother—for his father had no more words for such an ungrateful, feckless son—and set off to explore the world beyond the idyllic highlands that he knew as home.

Inevitably, that exploration led him towards the eastern borders of the Estoran Federation.[/indent]
[b][color=880808]Weapon of Choice[/color][/b]
[indent]Custom-made, high-caliber handguns loaded with explosive ammunition for the purposes of shock and awe. He has also been known to make reckless use of a variety of explosive or otherwise volatile devices.[/indent]
[b][color=880808]Misc.[/color][/b]
[list][*][url=https://youtu.be/8AHCfZTRGiI]"You can have it all, my empire of dirt..."[/url]
[*]The rest put into bullets for a clean look
[*]Or do what you want I ain't a cop.[/list]
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