The Clockyard //
Tribal Nomad //
The Circus At The End of The World //
Pity The Free Man //
Steampunk Revolution //
I'm Glad I Lost You"I'm just a sexy riddle wrapped in an enigma sandwiched between a conundrum and a mystery."
The Basics
NameTythius
Nickname(Among "business associates") Chatterbox
(Among close acquiantances) Ty (pronounced like "tie")
GenderMale
Age24
RaceHuman
ClassRogue
In The Mirror
Height168 cm
Weight58 kg
Hair ColorHazelnut
Eye ColorJade
AppearanceToned and slender, though slightly underweight for his height, Tythius considers himself in top form for pickpocketing, petty thievery, and minor arson--mainly because he can prance away from the scene of the crime faster than any of his pursuers. When not cloaked-and-daggered for shady schemes, Tythius enjoys browsing shops in a simple white tunic with front lacing and decorative black stitching on the sleeves coupled with close-fitting, dark gray breeches tucked into a pair of scuffed, knee-high boots that have seen more than its fair share of wear and tear--they're so dirty he can barely discern their original color ("Maybe these boots were black when I first bought them?"). In ornery weather, he throws a sturdy, well-worn mantle over his usual ensemble, enjoying the contrast between the mantle's black dye and the tunic's white fabric.
If he has his rifle with him, his artificer toolkit will also be equipped as his gear is stowed in a large, rectangular box with multiple tiers--the top tier houses the bolt-action rifle, scope, shoulder straps, and the rarely-used bipod while the lower tier consists of varied compartments filled with bullets, traps, mines, powders, strange liquids, and what-have-yous. Tythius either carries the box against his side, its strap slung over his shoulder, or strapped vertically against his back. When questioned, he tends to open only the lower tier and select compartments, claiming he's a traveling pharmacist/alchemist, depending on the situation.
While not the most beautiful man in Thedas, Tythius has broken enough hearts to realize he's attractive enough for many women (and some men!), though he swears prostitutes simply don't have hearts and that women hath no wrath like a lady (or gentleman!) of the night scorned. His brothel dilemmas stem from a heart-shaped face accentuated by strong cheekbones and a slender jawline while thin lips constantly curled into a smirk emphasize a coy mischievousness that promises an alluring adventure under the sheets. After trying out various hairstyles, he's finally settled on a angular fringe cut with short sides that fade out to a tapered back he was too lazy to deal with which currently reaches past his shoulder blades. ("Look, when I grow eyes on the back of my head, I'll make that tail look good.")
When dealing with the inevitable pillow talk after every kinky escapade Tythius tends to skirt smoothly around any inquiries behind the vivid scars along his neck, around his thighs, and the undersides of his arms--evasions made easier by his inability to speak.
Beneath The Surface
PersonalityTythius hides his general distrust of people behind a well-worn facade of jovial mischief. Cheerful and easily amused--though a little self-deprecating--what he lacks in verbal communication he more than makes up for in gesticulations and facial expressions. With the look of someone who wears his heart on his forehead, Tythius is often mistaken for a happy bumpkin instead of the cold-hearted mercenary he actually is. While mellow in casual situations, he will not hesitate to kill anyone in his way of completing a job, whether they be man, woman, or child. His lack of social tact, however, tends to wear on people and he often finds himself alone despite all his merry frolicking in taverns and inns. While not expecting much from his superficial personality display, Tythius still finds himself capable of feeling deeply hurt when he winds up all alone again despite his best efforts to present a welcoming countenance.
Tythius is actually an excellent cook, though he prefers mooching from a ready meal instead of making his own. His laziness hides a meticulous precision when it comes to work or maintaining his tools of the trade and when the lights and sounds of company have faded into the sighs of sleep, he'll often be awake cleaning his rifle or tinkering with more traps. The silence of the night makes him think too much, however, and provokes a surprising amount of self-pity for his current state of affairs, living contract-to-contract simply because he didn't have the ambition to be anything more than what he is. At that thought, he'll often abruptly stop his busywork to try and sleep, only to find himself wide awake and tinkering all over again. There are nights when sleep simply doesn't come to him.
After losing his voice, he keeps a journal of amusing events, daily musings, and any other thought that interests him. He is afraid he'll one day forget the sound of his own voice and does his best to read over his thoughts in his spare time to remind himself of what he probably sounded like. His overt displays of emotions are his attempts to compensate for being unable to properly speak with others anymore, and, despite his carefree attitude, he does care greatly about being misunderstood. His journal is also filled with bits of poetry he sometimes attempts to write in an effort to feel like he has more talents than simply killing people and monsters. Somewhere in the pages, he did once wish for a lifelong friend, though that line was vigorously scribbled out some time later and blots of ink smudges dot the page like someone had been crying.
What Makes Me Special
SpecializationMarksman and Artificer
Weapons- Bolt-action sniper rifle.
- Daggers.
- Various traps and contraptions (spike traps, rope traps, smoke bombs, caltrops, poisoned weapons, elemental mines, etc.)
Strengths
- Skilled at setting up traps and bunkering down for the long haul.
- Ruthless--He's not as nice as he seems and won't hesitate to kill innocents if they're in the way.
- Eagle-eyed--To last long in an increasingly dangerous world, Tythius had to get damn good at spotting his marks from ridiculous distances or risk losing his range and surprise advantage.
- High pain tolerance--He's been through torture a few times when jobs have gone to shit. Now he's mute and no amount of torture will elicit even a peep.
- Expert marksman--Tythius is as much a master of the bolt-action rifle as his unofficial instructor was and can hit targets from seemingly inhuman ranges. In more complicated situations, he'll load a lighter bullet for ricochet work.
- Innovative tinker--As an artificer, Tythius knows how to make and set enough traps to wipe entire groups of unaware enemies stupid enough to chase after him.
- Nimble and flexible--And more than just in bed. Besides a light frame and high agility, Tythius can contort his body (much to his bedfriends' shocked displeasures) and dislocate joints at his convenience, which has saved him from many captive situations.
Weaknesses
- Mute--A botched contract (that he didn't even get paid for!) permanently damaged his vocal cords and left him mute. He can make noises that do not require explicit use of the vocal cords (such as grunts and moans), but even those are rather strained.
- Low physical strength--Tythius does not lift, nor does he intend to.
- Low stamina--Tythius's cardio is better than average simply as a result of his profession, but compared to warriors and such, he's pathetic.
- Mediocre knife-fighter--While he opened his mercenary days with a pair of daggers, he was never particularly skilled with them and now uses them only when he has to. Dagger-wise, he wouldn't even be a challenge to anyone specializing in light blades.
- Reload time of rifle leaves him vulnerable--While breech loading has certainly improved the time between shots, aiming after a reload still leaves Tythius vulnerable for a good 2-5 seconds after every shot.
- Doesn't know how to use any large melee weapons--He simply never found greataxes or swords compelling.
- Attack efficiency limited by ammunition supply--Tythius has decided that if a battle ever drags on long enough that he completely runs out of ammunition, he'll just have to resort to chucking elemental mines in the enemy's general direction and hoping they're dumb enough to step on them.
Skeletons In The Closet
HistoryRestless and trigger-happy, Tythius has long worked as a mercenary and jobs are now more plentiful than ever as the world bursts at its seams with strife and political turmoil. A dead politician here and there and a well-guarded one in some safe corner kept the landlady off his back (and out of his bed) while small-time theft kept him going between jobs. Growing up in the slums of Denerim didn't exactly enamor Tythius to the ruling class and he started his life of crime at 10 years of age by ruining the trailing skirts of noblewomen and breaking the wheels on parade carts. His family found his troublemaking, well, troublesome and left him in the care of a negligent uncle before moving elsewhere in the hopes of a better life. He hasn't heard from them since and doesn't care to, even going so far as to pretend he doesn't have a family name.
When his uncle racked up a little too much debt against the wrong parties, Tythius found himself without a home and a caretaker, forced to steal and hide to survive. In doing so, he wound up running with a small band of thieves that slowly merged into a large mercenary band with contracts and clients spanning several cities, eventually taking on jobs that involved more dead people than stolen heirlooms and realizing he had less friends in this cutthroat organization than he did as an urchin on the street.
But even mercenaries feel camaraderie and after a year of slavish work Tythius had grown close to a fellow mercenary nicknamed Trick. While Tythius never found out Trick's real name, the man had an uncanny talent for the bolt-action rifle and often took work in tandem with Tythius's jobs. Only later did Tythius understand that Trick had been keeping him safe on jobs he was vastly underqualified to complete, ensuring there were never too many enemies for the inexperienced teenager to handle. Before long, the two became close friends, often sharing swill in a tavern over comforting small talk before Trick eventually suggested--every time, without fail--that they head out and do some target practice, teaching Tythius the ins-and-outs of the rifle and situations to avoid when using it on a job.
The rifle, however, was not the reason Trick earned his nickname. The man was an artificer of the highest caliber, earning himself the nickname when he led a large group of guards on a wild goose chase through Denerim as trap after trap picked off his pursuers until the final few were finished off by several lyrium bullets through the skulls. In hearing that story, Tythius had insisted on learning the craft and Trick had reluctantly obliged, as a doting father would to a child, while introducing Tythius to the merchants and contacts that would be his suppliers of artificer materials and lyrium ammunition from that day forward. The makeshift family, however, didn't last long. In the perpetually increasing chaos of the Bullet Age, jobs naturally became deadlier as the world slowly grew more and more inhospitable. Many of the urchins Tythius once stole bread and butter with were killed on jobs while others were shot dead for attempting to run from the organization's generous benefaction after all the trouble they went through to take care of kids off the street.
On an ambitiously solo contract to hunt down a renegade noble mage before the family's reputation suffered for it and before the Templars caught wind of it, Tythius never realized Trick had tailed him deep into the Brecilian Forest with the intention of keeping the young merc safe from both the mage and the dangers of the forest itself. When Tythius finally cornered the mage, he came face to face with an abomination born out of fear and desperation. In the ensuing chaos of battle, the abomination dragged the young mercenary back even as he desperately scrabbled to escape, its claws vise-like around his legs as it prepared to tear him to pieces. Trick's pinpoint precision with a bullet stunned the creature in time to save Tythius's life, but not in time to prevent it from tearing into his throat. As Trick's bullets decimated the abomination while it stumbled towards the artificer and his many traps, Tythius could think of nothing but the hot blood rushing out of his body from the gash on his throat to the deep lacerations on his legs to the torn and jagged skin left on his arm as a result of trying in vain to crawl to safety. When a final bullet finished the creature for good, Tythius lost consciousness, waking up a week later in a small inn with his room already paid for and injuries tended to, only to find out in a burst of panic that he was no longer able to speak. Trick was nowhere to be found and a terrified maid reported--after Tythius had finally calmed down--that his companion had left a day ago. Only then did Tythius realize that Trick had left behind his toolkit and rifle, with no indication of where he had gone.
After searching in vain, Tythius's return to the mercenary headquarters in Denerim resulted in an interrogation as Trick's disappearance lengthened into desertion. By the time the dust settled, there was a bounty on Trick's head and Tythius was finally released from the interrogation chambers once they were convinced he truly knew nothing of the older man's disappearance. Without any other means of earning income, especially with the loss of his voice, Tythius remained with the mercenary organization, much to his chagrin, though he took up Trick's rifle and toolkit as his own, practicing until he was skilled with both methods of combat. Taking his silence to mean his obedience, Tythius's associates assigned him most of the leftover jobs--ones other mercenaries found too risky or low-paying to be worth their effort. With little choice in the matter, he simply nodded and agreed, risking life and limb for people who saw him as simply another expendable warm body. As job after job came and went, a nagging fear in the back of his mind eventually broke the surface of his forced serenity: the realization that his experiences had shaped nothing for him--no epiphany, no purpose, no reason to live. He was only alive in the barest sense of the word, going through the motions of the only work he knew how to accomplish. When Grey Wardens passed through Denerim as talk of a Sixth Blight spread throughout the taverns, Tythius begged to be conscripted, desperately scribbling his request on a piece of parchment the Grey Warden produced after much confusion and gesticulation.
"If I am to die in battle, let it be with a purpose I chose. Make me a Warden."
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