SillyGoy — Roleplayer Guild

Character sheet is ready, boss. Will proofread tomorrow after sleeping.

Name: Timothy Aquinas

Alias: The Seminary

Age: 24

Personality:

”God wills it.”

If there is one trait defining of Timothy’s personality, it is his zealousness. Already pious from the start, his superpowers have bolstered the strength of his faith, seeing his unique gifts as those coming from God. A devout Catholic, Timothy does his best to be kind, caring and thoughtful, though he will not suffer excessive offenses to his faith, and will mete out enlightenment on the ignorant either by preaching with unhindered passion or, in extreme cases, by the tip of the sword: a practice recent events have made him quite adept in.

The world, to him, requires renewal. There are many of the Gifted who misuse their powers not for the sake of their fellow man in service to God, but for the sake of their greed and other nearsighted lusts. If there is one prayer he would like to see granted, it is that all Gifted would come to their senses and use their newfound talents to better their fellow humans as siblings under the eyes of the Allfather, and that prosecution and exploitation of them by the governments of the world would stop.

Though he does not believe he has all the answers, he truly seeks to build a happy world. He has decided to do his part, however small, in achieving that goal. Whether he would make an impact small or large, it matters not, as long as he knew that he contributed somehow to the best of his abilities.

Flaw or not, he sees the world through the lenses of religion.

Appearance:

A bush of short, wavy hair, dark brown in color, sits atop his head, hugs the contours of his ears and threatens to spill out after the earlobe’s level. Perhaps half of his forehead is covered by his forward locks that hang over a lightly-pronounced brow having only moderately thick eyebrows, under which are eyes sporting irises of green. A relatively wide face and pale skin betray his British ancestry, and he bears likeness to the image of a rugged Irishman with a short growth of facial hair starting from just before his ears, going down to his chin, and even spilling onto his neck.

His grooming towards a life of religious devotion has not blessed Timothy with any particularly strong musculature. Days spent poring over texts have given him quite a ghostly complexion, too. He stands at a good 5’11” tall.

He still wears the uniform of the seminary: a pair of slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, both simple garments pitch-black in color, clothe his person. Leather shoes cover his feet, and he always has a backpack on him, bearing provisions like bottled water and food, as well as the essential Holy Bible.

Powers: [+]

Weaknesses and limitations [+]

History: [+]

Timothy was orphaned at the tender age of three in a very unfortunate car accident. He was taken into a Catholic orphanage, and it was there that piety was first aggressively fostered in him. Under the tutelage of diligent nuns, he became quite the devotee even at a young age. He enjoyed the Bible stories, all of them, those of David and Noah’s in particular. Often would he volunteer to assist the priest in clerical duties every Sunday. Needless to say that he was well-liked by his guardians. Avid reading of the Bible translated into good scholarly study habits in the future.

It was rather unfortunate that he was not adopted. Parents looked for infants and toddlers, and only a select few of his peers somehow won the lottery every time an interested couple walked into the premises. Thus he grew up as a ward of the Church, and he took its ideals to heart from elementary to highschool and beyond. In his early youth, he was very naive, and was quite shy until his powers began to show. Because of this, he was bullied. Still, he believed that one should love his enemy, and he graciously helped his bullies with their studies when asked. Thus he actually made allies and friends with them! Indeed, the teaches rang true!

His powers did not begin to manifest until early adolescence. While tending to graveyards, he would catch a whisper or two when he was a lone figure standing in the open field, and in his dreams, vibrant images of noble warriors doing battle with a looming shadow flashed time and time again. He would always remember these images after he had woken up, seldom forgetting them. The most overt manifestations would happen when he had time for himself, when he contemplated and meditated after he was taken in at the local seminary to undergo training for priesthood.

The whispers grew more in frequency in length, and the still images in his dreams became like a cinema while he slept. As he pursued his academic and clerical dreams, he also devoted time to studying the strange phenomena happening within himself, praying fervently and often as what his favorite priest had recommended after Timothy had confided to him. One night, he responded like he had many hundreds of times before to a ghostly whisper, and he was alarmed when he was met with an answer. Thus he made his first conversation with a departed soul, though cut short by the ethereal being’s refusal to answer shortly afterwards.

A peasant crusader was his first summon, unintentionally after a particularly bad nightmare in the perspective of the starving warrior who was slain by Saracens in the deserts of Arabia. When he awoke in cold sweat and uncharacteristic fatigue, Timothy found a ghostly man in armor standing over the foot of his bed that then disappeared after a few moments like switching off a lightbulb. To say that it terrified him was a huge understatement, but the religious contexts of all of this convinced him that these new powers were a gift from God above. And when he exchanged introductions with a Holy Ghost, also a Crusader like the last, his zeal unhealthily grew.

It takes eight years of education at a seminary before one is called to the Holy Orders to become a priest. Timothy could only complete several until the Civil War broke out, where Gifted fought Ungifted, and where brother slew brother. Thankfully, he had spent those years nurturing his gifts as he had become aware of them. Of course, he had kept them a secret until then, and the advising priest from before was none the wiser of Timothy’s true situation. He had escaped detection as one of the Empowered due to the convenience of the separation of church and state.

The War offered much opportunity in looting. It was such that Timothy acquired an M1911A1 from a gunstore whose one side collapsed, justifying his actions in that he would need it for when the time came that the government began to look for him. He had volunteered to become a relief worker for a local charity when the whole camp was screened and he and a couple of others were inevitably found out.

Killing his first came as a shock to him; the recoil of the pistol was hard against his untrained hands. But seeing a dead crusader impale another government soldier with his greatsword came as an even bigger shock; kevlar offered no protection against such a heavy blade. Seeing that Holy Ghost push forward, bleeding ethereal smoke from the all the bullets digging into its otherworldly flesh like it was nothing was yet more cause for him to pause. But the Ghost fell eventually, yet by then Timothy had already fled. The two other Empowered were not as lucky and were arrested, however.

Cursing himself for putting himself in such an overt position to be found, he laid low for a while, distressed at the fact that every civilian aid station was heavily guarded. No-one could get essential food and water unless they were thoroughly screened. In a wartorn nation, this was the reality of things. Seeing such suffering close hand, when an Empowered girl, no more than thirteen, was forcibly dragged away from her grieving parents, cuffed, and bodily hurled into the back of a van; and when an Empowered looter tore asunder an abandoned but largely intact bank and several people along with it just to get meaningless cash, Timothy was disgusted by it all.

The world needed to change. What hatred! They all lived in the Year of Our Lord and yet they acted like demons. Perhaps… this calls for a modern Crusade?

Other:

-He has a Colt M1911A1 in his possession. It is his primary and preferred tool for hurting others by himself.

His banner:

"Tense girl, isn't she?" Ernst muttered lowly, referring to Kat, with one brow raised upwards in perplexity at her unfriendliness and shaking his head lightly in disapproval. Being surrounded by nobles and strange folk aside, he had found himself in a bit of a good mood at finding a job from a good employer. Moving with unashamed excitement towards the table, he procured three silver from the most recent purse. "This coin will be for equipment, this one will be for food, and this one is for good luck," he said, clutching onto them with a smirk. "Now where can I find... oi, tavern keep! You wouldn't happen to have a needle and thread on you now, would you? And how much for a pint?"

He planned to sew one coin to the underside of his gambeson. To have a bit of your wealth attached to your clothes at all times was bound to bring good fortune in terms of finance, and added upon the effects of additional lucky charms a Northerner might have. And Ernst was indeed in possession of another one: a little shield-shaped icon made of pewter was pinned to the breast of the cloth shirt he wore under his armor. It was said to give one favor in matters of trivia, like in outwitting someone or in that the inn's food was better-tasting than usual. Mostly, he just wore charms to help reassure himself since his taking part in the Exodus. In the low of poverty, men would do much to convince and assure themselves of their own control over their lives, and seeking help from the mystical was one such act.

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