Scribe of Thoth

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Tyler kept to himself on their walk back from the bathroom. It seemed he and the prince had traded roles; Lucas wanted to grace the party with his royal presence for a bit longer and now Tyler was the one who urgently wanted to leave. Not that it would do him any good - Theodore wouldn't suddenly haunt him less once he was alone with his thoughts. As the lights flickered, he thought perhaps the Goddess had answered his pleas. A power outage would certainly put a damper on the festivities, and sure enough, moments later the lights shut off entirely. Weird that it happened in the absence of a storm, unless this was some dumb party trick manufactured by the Duke's staff. Maybe Scion Nadine got too drunk and fried the building - women could still be party animals at the ripe age of a hundred, right?

Tyler sighed and pushed open the door to the ballroom, half expecting to see some gimmick he wasn't quite in the mood for starting up. The sound of shattering glass rid him of that notion very quickly. As the first screams rang out, Tyler threw his arm back and shoved Lucas toward the wall of the adjoining hallway, behind the cover of the doorframe. His other hand fumbled in his pocket, wasting no time in slamming his crystal into his chest. The armor unfurled, sleek and elegant, unhindered by the pointless trappings of ceremony it was earlier. Gold manalights pulsed from the suit's decorations, flaring with the power of the sigil of Time.

"We're leaving. Now," he ordered back toward Lucas, only to be cut off by the sounds of the Scions screaming for their Templars over the clamour of frightened nobility. They were the targets? For animals, the Kaudians certainly did know how to make an entrance. "Scratch that, I'm going in."

The ballroom exploded with light, illuminating their attackers at last. One of them had already drawn concerningly close, doubtlessly tipped off by the flash of Tyler's armaments. Worse, he weaved to and fro between panicked civilians on his approach, meaning Tyler couldn't just shoot him and be done with it.

Poor guy.

Tyler again left one arm backward to attend (read: manhandle) his Scion as he grasped for a weapon. As his assailant lunged at him with a blade, Tyler shoved Lucas back further as the attack skimmed the trim of his forward pauldron. A torrent of mana burst forth from the device in his other hand, writhing in undulating ribbons until it stabilized into a brilliant golden blade, not quite crystallized but not entirely energy either. His attacker dodged a quick upward thrust from the newly-manifested manasaber, and responded with a few hounding blows as he very obviously tried to flank Tyler and force him into playing human shield for Lucas.

The guy was fast, Tyler would give him that, but the Templar was beyond such mundane concepts as speed. Rather than continue his incessant parrying, Tyler ignited his sigil and ducked backward to let a swing sail past his face at a laughable pace. Too laughable, he had more people to kill than this. Tyler shoved the blade along its path with his free hand, forcibly overextending the man's arm before he dug his own sword into the man's flank and then ripped it out gruesomely.

A gunshot echoed closer than the others and something whizzed past his head as the first attacker crumpled to the floor in slow motion, though spray of drywall lethargically floating past tipped him off that the projectile had missed and struck into the wall. Tyler flattened himself behind the doorframe for cover and let time speed back up to meet him before he spoke.

"If you hear a gun go off, you slow everything down immediately until you're sure it's not coming at you, got it?" Ideally, he'd vacate the prince from the premises entirely, but then he'd have to leave him unattended while he went back in for the other Scions, which was historically a bad idea, especially if these were the same people.

His Scion sufficiently chided, Tyler pulled out of his hiding spot at preternatural speed to advance on the gunman from earlier. Separating from him was a risk, but it was much easier to dodge a bullet than smack it out of the air, and he couldn't do that with Lucas directly behind him. Two more shots flew past before the man switched to a bladed weapon, as if realizing the futility of trying to shoot a man that quite literally sees it coming with time to spare.

They locked swords as a second attacker joined them for an attempted cheap shot, forcing Tyler to disengage and strafe away to try and put the gunman between himself and the other attacker. The former-gunman lunged in a repeat their earlier tactic, aiming to tie up Tyler's sword so the other could exploit their numbers advantage. To that end, he momentarily dispelled his blade, letting his opponent's sword slip through the formless wisps of residual mana before it reformed past the man's guard and sliced across his neck.

Tyler released his throttle on the flow of time as the last man came in, no longer needing to cheat on a single opponent. He had to give them credit, they fought with fanatical morale; his attacker didn't even flinch when his companion died. Also meant they probably wouldn't talk, so Tyler had no reason to be anything but lethal. He met the man swing for swing until a parry sent both their weapons careening away from their center line, and Tyler followed up with a swift front kick to knock the man into a table of refreshments before follwing up with a downward slash to cut him down properly.

"No wonder you ducked me last time," Tyler goaded to the crowd as he caught his breath, hoping to draw the attackers in and away from the fleeing civilians, "I can do this all day!"

---

@Hero

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

As Lucas threw his little tantrum, Tyler couldn't help but grin. He doubted the prince was fishing for pity, but he managed to vomit his woes all over Tyler's shoes in place of physical vomit anyway. And then he stole his drink, how adorably pathetic. Lucas must've been a crying drunk and Tyler had absolutely no patience for those even when he liked them, let alone when he didn't. Plus, he'd just made the very fatal mistake Tyler had just warned him about; he was squirming up a storm in full view of his enemies ('enemies' being Sir Tyler Morris, of course).

"You have got to be the biggest lightweight I have ever met in my-" Tyler started, only to be cut off by the light of the prince's sigil. They were gonna do this here, huh? They'd have space enough for three fights in the span of time it would take security to break them up if Lucas really wanted to accelerate, which was a blessing for Tyler's spiteful side as much as it was a curse for his responsible one.

Tyler shot a hand forward to stuff Lucas' head down preemptively, though he paused just short of jabbing the prince right in his eye when his head lulled around to settle an absent stare back at the Templar. Had he just fallen asleep? Took a power nap in frozen time? Ah, hell, he was talking in his sleep. Tyler paid it no mind until the mana around them bore down on him, eliciting a sharp wince on his part. That was certainly a trick Theo had never done. He should've hit the fucker when he had the chance.

Though, Lucas seemed to be suffering from his own spell even worse than Tyler was. Which... meant it might not be his own spell - were they under attack? Tyler clenched his jaw as tightly as he could and craned his neck around vigilantly despite the metaphrical knife digging itself through his ribcage, only for the assault to suddenly cease. Lucas shot up and promptly almost doubled over, though Tyler made no move to catch him, instead turning to face- Prince Ezekiel. Not the mystery assailant he'd been expecting.

Lucas brushed off the event in stride and promptly vacated the area like a fucking idiot. Hardly a few hours into this appointment and Lucas was already trying to get himself killed. Tyler almost followed him until Ezekiel spoke again, to which he barely suppressed his annoyed sigh. Quite frankly, there were very few members of the royal family Tyler wouldn't tell to blow it out their ass at this point, especially since he doubted they had a particularly high opinion of him to begin with, but he couldn't make an enemy of Lucas' father quite so soon.

A pleasure indeed.

"The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness," Tyler lied in turn, "Though I'll be reserving any pleasure in my reappointment until after every one of Theodore's murderers has been scoured from this planet." What did Tyler have to be pleased about? His Scion was insufferable, his status had arguably gotten worse rather than better, and now he was party to strange psychic attacks.

"And speaking of my position, I should attend my Scion before he ends up passed out on a bathroom floor like the common rabble. By your leave, we'll have to continue this chat at another time." Tyler dutifully bowed his head at that and waited to be dismissed, though his courtesy wore thin.

---

@Hero

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Tyler stuck dutifully by his Scion throughout the proceedings, in no small part because Lucas felt the need to incense the Scion of Earth and would probably repeat the stunt with the others that came after him. Now who was pulling someone off someone else? Tyler doubted the little prick was nearly as tough as his mouth was - not that he had high hopes for most of the guests Lucas would feasibly piss off either - but that still meant he'd be the one eating the punch.

Well, he wouldn't let that spoil the evening for him. There were seething people to wave at, after all. It was a mercy his face was covered and all the attention would be on the Scions for the time being, he'd caught his fill of flak for the day, and the event had barely begun. Lucas wasn't very well-received either, and Tyler almost felt sorry for him as he stepped back in line. Almost. The prince probably deserved every ounce of hate he got, but it made Tyler's job harder all the same. Truly the worst brand of solidarity.

Of course, the troubles of a public appearance had nothing on the scathing harpies that would await at the afterparty. Dipshit journalists and civilians who barely pay attention offer only the most banal criticisms, but the guests of any party that a Scion would bother to attend were certain to all be in the know. The discussion was about as riveting as Tyler had hoped; Lucas sucked, Theodore was amazing, the Mother works in mysterious ways, hardest battles, strongest soldiers, blah, blah, blah. He needed a drink.

Tyler kept mostly to himself, amicable but making no social overtures that may draw attention to him - better to keep the spotlight on his wonderful Scion - until he spotted the very man of the hour sulking in a chair. Ooh, he must've been getting slaughtered out there.

Naturally, Tyler draped himself across the back of the prince's chair, wiggling a half-emptied champagne flute in front of him to get his attention. "What was that about thicker skin you were saying earlier?" he mused innocently, "You know it'll only get worse if you let them see you squirm, Your Highness."

Theo had been so easy. Tyler only had to play along and not cause any ripples while his Scion won over the room, and then they'd both go home and he'd make stupid conversation about the event in question while Theo politely pretended he wasn't laughing at any mean-spirited commentary. It certainly never involved babysitting a grump that everyone else was even more fed up with than he was. This wasn't a partnership, it was a fight for dominance that Tyler didn't intend to concede.

After that, maybe - maybe - they could talk about solidarity.

---

@Hero

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Princess Rosemary was certainly rambunctious, though he supposed children were children regardless of station. The advent of her Templar was far more engaging to Zach's attention, and it seemed Dame Ionna agreed, since her excited oohs and aahs about heat vision gave way to- blessed Mother, did she really wrestle an alligator? This woman was clearly insane. Dame Irina as well, but Zach knew that well before this conversation. Sonia's statement about her eye, however, intrigued him too much to write her off.

"Ah, no, they're still real for the time being," Zach answered as he tugged his visor back down. Much better. He really preferred not to dwell on the thought that he'd probably have his eyeballs scooped out of his head one day, but the two Templars before him seemed rather content with their own prosthetics, so perhaps it wouldn't be quite so bad. Even if the thought turned his stomach. "No complaints, I hope?"

He wasn't sure if there was a polite way to say 'gee, I sure hope you encounter all the flaws so they can be fixed before I do', since, well, he truly did hope it wasn't giving her any trouble. Given that she likely lost her eye in some brave feat of daring along the lines of wrestling an alligator and didn't electively remove it, Zach could only hope she wouldn't settle for a faulty eye over none at all. He'd certainly do the same in her shoes. Or his own shoes.

Somewhat insecurely, Zach readjusted his visor as the Scion of Metal cut in. Her genuine enthusiasm was certainly infectious, reverent and optimistic in a way he felt all inventors should be. It was a shame her talents didn't quite extend in the direction of the conversation, though he was sure he could find someone else to sate his curiosity if he really needed to. A question about mana batteries came to the tip of his tongue, only for a hand on his shoulder to halt him. Far too gentle to be a threat, even without taking into account the location, though he snapped his head to the side all the same.

"A bit," Zach hummed affirmatively as he greeted Kasper with a warm smile, "I was playing show-and-tell with my visor and Dame Sonia noted that we likely have similar models. I believe hers is the new prototype." He assumed it probably better for his peace of mind that he not inquire whether Kasper had been having fun with his own conversation. Hopefully the prince would soften up after the stress of his appointment had receded, and it wouldn't do to form a negative opinion of him so quickly.

---

@Abstract Proxy@Olive Fontaine

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Oh, Silvaine looked positively thrilled to be a part of this; Tyler hadn't expected Maya to involve him, but he really should've in retrospect. She'd never trust Tyler's shoddy camerawork that seemed to only catch Theo's bad side no matter the angle over her own people. It only sweetened the deal, as far as Tyler was concerned. He didn't miss how the Templar of Gravity had glared up at the ceremony, and no matter how Edmund tried to play cool and detached, Tyler could tell his frustration was aimed at more than just Maya.

The grin he shot back, in his opinion, would probably be best described as 'shit-eating'.

"You made sure to catch my good side, yeah?" he goaded, carefree as could be. Ah, but Lucas had told him to play nice with the other knights, so he politely refrained from any further comments about Edmund being a glorified cameraman. They could nurse their contempt in silence for the holiday.

Though if Edmund was a forgettable breeze, the Templar of Fire was a veritable hurricane. She barged into their conversation and dragged Theodore with her, even if she hadn't meant to. Below his conscious notice, his jaw set firmly and his nostrils flared while she spoke. Why this animal thought it appropriate to offer him the same trite crap every clergyman he'd talked to for the past few months did was a mystery, as if it would somehow mean more coming from the kinsmen of Theo's murderers. Guilt by association that she felt she needed to assuage, maybe. Tyler wasn't sure if he should be more incensed at her pity or her crude attempt to compare their situations. Last he checked, her Scion hadn't died at the hands of her godless cousins, so he really didn't see the parallels-

Tyler took a deep breath. Remember, she was one of the good ones. If she was there to goad him - with her words and not her ethnicity, anyway - she'd done a poor job of it, so he could only assume her offer was genuine. It also dawned on him that she probably intended more to point out the friction they both had with their respective Scions rather than parade Theo's corpse in front of him.

"Are we really in such a similar boat?" he questioned, "I think you're misinterpreting His Highness' charming personality as spite toward me in particular." There was likely some there, true, but Tyler doubted they'd get along any better in these circumstances without his greatest failure hanging precariously over both their heads. Lucas would find some other matter to attack him with, and Tyler would simply be less likely to smack him for it.

---

@webboysurf@Stern Algorithm

---

---

It was to be expected that Dame Ionna would throw Zach's question back at him like that, not that he minded. Shame that she couldn't provide very much insight into magitech, but then again he was a pot with some choice words about the shade of the nearby kettle here; he couldn't provide much context to his own little gadget either. Unexpectedly, the Scion of Metal tagged on to her Templar's comment. Zach swore she had a reputation for some kind of mechanical inclination, though he wasn't certain if that extended to magitech, let alone Church magitech, or restrained itself to common metallurgy.

Zach raised a hand to politely decline the second offer of a cookie, intent on sticking to his guns now, and tugged at the edge of his visor as he debated how best to explain its workings to them. "I'm sure the craftsman would be very happy to hear that. Though I don't think it differs too much from the ones they give to all the Church mages." Which they probably didn't understand the workings of either. He wasn't very good at this, was he?

"And, well, no, it can't see through walls, unless a thermal camera counts," he explained, opting to take the questions in stride, "I think that's how it works, very tiny cameras. I know has sensors embedded that can detect mana levels, and it quantifies them much better than the gut feeling a mage usually gets. No internet either, but it pairs with my phone," Zach lifted up half of the visor, the material twisting almost like cloth as it rode up on his forehead, to reveal his good- well, less awful eye. Ionna was reduced jarringly to a dim red and gold smudge in half of his field of vision and Scion Dominika disappeared into his diminished periphery entirely, and he fought the urge to close the exposed eye entirely to refocus on them.

"I'd offer to let you peek but it probably won't look like much without recalibrating it to your eyesight." Not that he had any idea how to do that. Or whether the excitable Templar in front of him would even care; she could very well find the thought of staring through a blurry visor fascinating.

As for the other participant in the discussion, Zach gave up and resituated himself himself so that Dom now rested in the still-visored portion of his visual field. By the Mother, this was irritating. The inventor of the monocle must've been a sadist. "Forgive me, Your Holiness, I'm still unfamiliar with your career. Is anything like this within your area of expertise? I confess I'm unversed in the field. Kasper prefers more... traditional applications of magic."

---

@Abstract Proxy@Mcmolly

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.