Scribe of Thoth

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Zach found he quite enjoyed his time in Juniperus. Normally travel meant more work for him; unfamiliar locales and a smaller security detail necessitated more vigilance than usual, even if Kasper were to spend the entirety of the trip sequestered in his room. Which, of course, he didn't, since the point of travel was usually to experience the place that they have travelled to, even if they had come for business reasons. That meant constant motion and changing venues and no time to ensure an area was secure before they moved on to the next destination. Not that he necessarily minded - Kasper hardly liked to dance with danger on a knife's edge, occasional disappearing act aside, and Zach was reasonably sure his presence alone would be enough to handle any potential threats, but it grew taxing on extended trips all the same.

The Holy City held less of that element of unpredictability. All ten Scions were either lodged in the city or soon would be, and the Church surely had security on high alert. The knights were out in force and Zach assumed there were eyes on him and his Scion at all times, even if he wasn't privy to them. It helped that Kasper spent the majority of his time in Juniperus at sacred sites and Church institutions, there was always a knight presence nearby and little chance of an incident besides. It was still a bit strange to him to stand in a church with the sole objective to figuratively beat back the crowd every time the Scion of Shadow made an appearance rather than any of his previous duties, but it gave him a chance to chat with the clergy while Kasper enthused himself with whatever piece of history had caught his eye.

Likewise, on the day of the Millennial Festival, Zach practically felt like an accessory on Kasper's outfit rather than a true bodyguard. The Cathedra Incepta likely had better security than most military installations at that moment, and that was before the Scions and their Templars came into play. Without a role to play, Zach took his place dutifully at his Scion's side and tried not to fuss with the collar of his uniform too much during the ceremony. It had been tailored excellently, but he still disliked the militaristic rigidity of it compared to his old robes. Though, with the way most in attendance glared up at the altar, he almost felt as though he could strip naked right then and there without anyone noticing. Sir Tyler's re-appointment was certainly a choice, but not one Zacharie particularly cared to comment on. He wasn't privy to the circumstances of the last Scion of Time's demise, and Mother knows he'd lost track of Kasper a few times himself; any judgment on his part would be hypocrisy at best.

Once the new Scion of Time pinched his Templar's cheek, Zach had a whole new set of judgments to make anyway. Kasper even shot him a sly glance at that, to which he responded with a shrug and an awkward grin. If the event kept up like this, they might just make a gossiping schoolgirl out of him by the end of the night. Doubly so when, after the ceremony's conclusion, Kasper made a beeline for Maya Desrosiers of all people. He made a mental note to talk to her Templar before the festival was over to ask how he wanted the picture sent, in anticipation that he'd probably be the one managing that.

When Kasper turned down the red-haired Templar's offer of a treat, Zach felt obligated to respond in kind. "I'll have to decline as well," he said with a respectful bow of his head, "Never was very good at those icebreaker things." The visor was usually enough of a conversation starter anyway, and appearances usually overshadowed whatever benign factoid he could muster as a first impression anyway, in his experience.

He didn't follow as his Scion approached the prince by the altar, and the bits of their conversation he picked up told him he'd made the right choice. Zach cleared his throat uncomfortably and tugged at his visor as he tried to fight off his instinct to keep his eyes on Kasper and turned his attention elsewhere. Had His Highness meant for that to be so... crass?

Shame he'd already declined the cookie.

"Dame Ionna, if you don't find it invasive or objectionable, might I ask about that arm of yours? I've never had the pleasure of witnessing anything like it before." Magitech was quickly becoming an area of interest for him, ever since a Church engineer slapped a fancy looking blindfold across his face and suddenly the world was more vivid than it had been for him in years, though he still understood little about the nuances of it.

---

@Olive Fontaine@Mcmolly

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

This event had gotten off to a wonderful start. At least Tyler didn't feel quite so sorry for himself after the gentle reminder that His Highness, the illustrious Prince Lucas, was among his least favorite members of the royal family. Of course, that came with a whole new set of challenges, but the worst they could do was dismiss him from service, and that hardly felt like a punishment these days.

Theodore was laughing at him somewhere.

Tyler rolled his shoulders as he descended further into the cathedral, trying to stretch out the residual sting of the brand across his back. His esteemed peers would likely make only marginally better conversation partners; the Templars doubtlessly had their minds made up about him, likely not in the most positive of lights, and the Scions weren't a bunch that particularly interested him. The giant was trying to get Fyodor's attention, so he was out by sheer proximity. Poppycock, or whatever Weber's little flight risk's name was, had made short work of - seriously, cookies? They couldn't wait the five minutes it would take for them to be paraded off to the festival for some real food?

Their gatekeeper demanded a toll of an interesting fact. Tyler had plenty of those, but most of them were public knowledge and the ones that weren't were definitely not things he should share in the company of a seven year old. Maybe he could cover her ears somehow. As he thought over what to share, he approached and patted the Scion of Light rather brazenly on the head, careful not to disturb the hairdo her retainers probably spent hours fussing over.

"It's a brand of shoe, Your Highness," Tyler explained, if for no other reason then to spare someone else the indignity. It was no use; it was too quiet in here to get anything racy out, she'd just hear it through his hands. Plus he'd have Sonia chasing him across the pews and if he was going to catch a lecture from the commander, it'd be because he flipped Prince Lucas over his shoulder, not because he had to wrestle some one-eyed she-brute off him. Edmund's confession took a bit of the edge off - the Relicuos interrogators couldn't have gotten that out of him - but he was still coming up blank. Right, it was supposed to be for the new Templar's benefit anyway.

"Coincidentally enough, I own a pair. Bought 'em to be funny. Not uncomfortable, but you can get better shoes for the price point." Tyler reached for his chocolatey reward and promptly absconded with it, though the sight of the Scion of Shadow posing with Scion Maya gave him pause. Clicking his tongue, he stepped pointedly around Edmund and stopped before Maya.

"Your Holiness, it's been far too long," he greeted and raised an arm, as if in anticipation of a hug, "I was planning my social media re-debut for the ceremony, but I think I just missed my chance." His quirked his head toward Kasper, who was either enthralled with his picture or trying to figure out what an email was from whatever archaic century he was stuck in. "Man of the hour and I don't even get in the best pictures, it's a tragedy."

---

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

I am sensing some slap-slap-kiss yaoi tension from the first post.

@Stern Algorithm

mfw I ask to be the time templar

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

This armor suits you, Arbiter, but it cannot hide that mark.

________________________________________ Sir Tyler Morris Male | 25 | Estora Templar of Time _______________________________________________ "He has a lot of nerve looking so smug after such a colossal failure. The Commander should have him discharged- or worse." ________________________________________

"Theo prayed for peace and it killed him. Rest assured, heretic dog, I will not make the same mistake." Minor Holy Sigil Location On his back, between his shoulder blades. Appearance 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. Personality 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 himself. 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. Biography 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 knight. 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. Weapon of Choice 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. Misc. 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 "send location, i'll pull up". 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.

Oh dear, another dogged contender

________________________________________ Sir Zacharie Chaudoir Male | 23 | Doumerc Templar of Lightning _______________________________________________ "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've spent my whole life on the precipice of total darkness. I think this assignment quite suits me." Minor Holy Sigil Location On his left palm. Appearance 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. Personality 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. Biography 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 did 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. Weapon of Choice 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. Misc. Despite common opinion, Zach isn't totally 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.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

This armor suits you, Arbiter, but it cannot hide that mark.

________________________________________ Sir Tyler Morris Male | 25 | Estora Former Templar of Time _______________________________________________ "He has a lot of nerve looking so smug after such a colossal failure. The Commander should have him discharged- or worse." ________________________________________

"Theo prayed for peace and it killed him. Rest assured, heretic dog, I will not make the same mistake." Minor Holy Sigil Location On his back, between his shoulder blades. Appearance Standing at a modest 5'10", 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. Personality 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 himself. 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. Biography 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 knight. 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. Weapon of Choice 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. Misc. 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 "send location, i'll pull up". 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.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani [Interest Check]

Stealing water dont @ me

The Book Of Thoth (A Shin Megami Tensei Inspired Roleplay)

<Snipped quote by Scribe of Thoth>

Lol let me know if you are intrested because i believe we're close to reaching the limit of players.

@Eviledd1984

I'm on the fence, if other people want in don't worry about it

The Book Of Thoth (A Shin Megami Tensei Inspired Roleplay)

Well, it has my name in it so I’m obligated to at least pay attention to this.

Baldur' Gate 3 Questions.

1. No, I knew next to nothing about the previous two games going in and didn’t have any problems. Aside from like three returning characters who show up later in the game and some tidbits related to them that’re really only relevant to the Dark Urge origin, I don’t think the games even have much crossover.

2. It does a pretty good job of explaining the mechanics, I think. Most tooltips are very comprehensive and 5e (the dnd edition the game is based on) is the most newcomer friendly edition of dnd anyway in my opinion. Couple that with the fact that they changed quite a few things mechanically between the tabletop and the game, and prior system knowledge matters even less.

3. You shouldn’t. The game is pretty big at 100+ gb though so good luck with that download.

Court of Nuhl

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Whatever amount of coziness the cottage might've inspired was lost on Quinn as he trudged his way inside. In a better state of mind, he probably would've found the absurdity of the situation amusing, but right now, it just made him uncomfortable. Strange people he didn't know, some cryptic old woman that looked at him like she'd seen a Contarini before, a complete and utter lack of concern for the people he'd almost died to bail out of an imperial prison; nothing about this safehouse felt safe.

Despite his weariness, he startled a bit as the life mage greeted them inside. The positivity was a whiplash from the way the commander had greeted them, and he'd even bothered to be the first to congratulate them. The food on the stove didn't sound any more appealing now that Quinn beheld it for himself, but the smell in the air gave him hope his appetite would return soon, lest he have to force down the food out of sheer necessity. Of course, the moment was ruined as soon as the reality of the situation returned. Right, a debriefing. He'd hardly have a chance to catch his breath before they'd be ruthlessly evaluated on every catastrophe that happened inside the walls of that detestible prison. Quinn should've expected it, he knew well that breaks were a reward for exemplary performance and he was simply not satisfactory back there.

Of course, it could've been worse. Quinn bitterly wondered if he'd be in the same position as the prisoner on the ground had the inquisitor actually managed to wound him. They seemed to think he was already dead, but they could've at least bothered to check first with precious seconds potentially ticking by. Last rites, what a joke; a few words over a corpse wasn't a consolation, he was already dead. If they weren't going to try and save his life, they least they could do is throw him away without the hypocrisy.

Quinn hesitantly collapsed into a chair at the table for lack of a more comfortable place to sit. The living room sounded inviting, but the mind mage had evidently commandeered it to evaluate the prisoner and that poor man had likely been through enough without Quinn gawking at him during the invasion of his brain, even if Quinn himself would likely not even be lucid for it.

"I'm fine. Not hurt," he repeated for the life mage's benefit as he gripped the side of the table in an attempt to still the trembling of his hands, "Focus on someone more important than me."

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