Tomas

OOC: Withdrawing.

Tomas instinctively, and reflexively, ducked as Shield went sailing by over his head. The Holy Man had intended to stay and continue the fight, if for no other reason than that he suspected the game system would not allow him to retreat. Beyond that, the longer one stayed in combat before retreating the greater the amount of experience they would earn from the event. That was but simple logic. However, when presented with an opportunity to safely escape while, presumably, still retaining the already accumulated rewards, there was little debate in the mind of the monk.

In a single, smooth, action the leather gloved hands of the fencer raised the weapon in salute to Asterios before smoothly sliding the rapier back into its sheath. Giving the hood of his cloak a quick tug, to insure that his face remained hidden in the garment’s deep hooded shadow, the monk turned smartly on his heal and strode from the battlefield to a safer observation point. One could not complete their divinely ordained mission if they were dead.

Battle Order:

OOC: @Miss_Mestophales

“If anyone would know about being called with a whistle, I would think it would be you,” the holy man replied in a dry tone, turning his hooded gaze on Mestophales. Her style of dress, general demeanor, and flashiness made it readily apparent to the monk that she likely attracted all sorts of the wrong kind of attention from everyone, even if men were the more likely to be wolf whistling and catcalling. Tomas watched as the Vice Commander of the Knights of the Blood Oath effortlessly dispatched the flying monkeys, that was once he managed to successfully land a hit on the creatures. The slender man made a mental note of the pluses and minuses of the ginger man’s weapon choice. Obviously, power and the ability to handle groups seemed to be a strong point, something that Tomas knew his own rapier would be unable to replicate. That was good knowledge to squirrel away for later.

Tomas turned his head slowly and regarded the woman that had just spoken to him from the relative safety of the shadow cast by the hood of his cloak. He could see her, of course, just fine but the blonde probably would not be able to make out his features all that easily. The monk considered his options, and the woman, for a moment. While there were those, male and female most likely, that would have readily acknowledged the physical attractiveness of the blonde, such things were not of any real interest to a member of the order to which Tomas belonged. Even if that order did not exist in the digital world of Aincrad. He also, briefly, considered leading her out into the wilderness and then releasing her soul to float away from the digital gulag in which they found themselves, likewise that seemed a poor idea.

However, that didn't mean that the blonde had to be completely without merit. At his level, any help was welcome help. A low level player could never hope to accomplish all that was necessary.

 "That should be fine," Tomas allowed in a neutral tone, opening his hands and spreading his arms wide. "All we have to do is gather a few crafting materials. That should be a simple enough thing to do just outside of the gates of the Town of Beginnings." Opening up his player menu, with the swipe of a finger, the black cloaked figure sent a party request to Samriel in short order.

Tomas watched the tactics that were being employed by the flying monkeys and held his rapier at the ready. If it looked like their was a reasonable opportunity to launch an attack on the creatures then the monk would not miss the chance to strike. Or, at least, to attempt to strike. For the time being, however, the ginger man's efforts with his enormous axe were successfully keeping the winged monkeys away. The problem was that his efforts were also keeping the winged monkeys out of attack range for everyone else in the party was well and that would be something that was sure to slow things down in the long run. Still, there was nothing for it at the present. Tomas suspected that, given the floor they were on, that the winged monkeys would be more than up to the task of killing him. Therefore, it would be smart to wait at least a little longer before trying to attack just to make sure their leader had sufficiently drawn the attention of the mobs to make sure that the monkeys didn't make the abrupt decision to target Tomas instead.

Tomas watched, rather impassively, from his place of relative shelter behind one of the tanks in the raid party. The monk was somewhat surprised when a player that was, clearly, head and shoulders above the rest opted to engage Colonel Nato and easily dispatched the Minotaur. That was a shame, really. One more solid attack from Nato would, likely, have been enough to kill at least one other player in the first party. Enough to free the trapped soul of another player, another step however unintentional towards the ultimate goal of freeing all of the prisoners of this digital prison.

Still, in order to achieve that goal it would be necessary to gain strength and skills. Before this path had been illuminated for Tomas he had spent his days following the contemplative path of his order and, as a result, the leaders among the players were significantly out in front of him in terms of their raw statistical numbers. Attacking someone like Heathcliff, at this point, would be suicidal and it would dramatically end his divinely appointed mission.

Based on that information, and the simple fact that it seemed clear from the trouble that the higher level players were having with their bosses, that the wisest course of action for farming experience would be to focus on the remaining minion that had been spawned by Colonel Nato. As Morgenstern and the players in his party all fell under the paralytic effects of the Boss, but succeeded in paralyzing both of the minions that had been summoned, Tomas wrapped his fingers around the simple crucifix at his neck for the briefest of moments and murmured softly in Latin, readying himself before dashing forward towards the Trainee Soldier.

"Exaltabo te, Deus meus rex; et benedicam nomini tuo in saeculum, et in saeculum saeculi," Tomas said, reciting the first verse of the one hundred and forty-fourth Psalm and speaking in a low tone that would be unlikely to carry to anyone else as his thrust with the silver rapier in his hand. The blade unerringly found its mark in the body of the paralyzed trainee as the slender blade plunged into the creature's chest. "Per singulos dies benedicam tibi, et laudabo nomen tuum in saeculum, et in saeculum saeculi." The Holy Man punctuated the second verse of the same Psalm with two more lighting quick strikes before darting back to the relative safety afforded by standing behind the player that was, obviously, the strongest person on the field, Heathcliff.

*The Latin, in English for those that care, from the New King James Translation of Psalm 144:1-2. For those familiar with the movie Saving Private Ryan the Sniper quotes this passage during the film. "Praise be to the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle. ² He is my loving God and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield, in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me."

Roll and Battle Order:

As the group set off Tomas drew the hood of his new cloak up over his head. While the stat bonus that it offered wasn't really in keeping with the build he wanted it would have been foolish to look the gift horse in the mouth, as they might say. As he slipped the hood over his head, Tomas' face slid into the shadows afforded by the hood and he flexed his fingers in the gloves that covered his hands. Reflexively he knew there was no need to break in the leather, but it was a habit from the real world and necessary or not such habits were difficult to break. The small contingent of players walked in silence for several moments until and Tomas was just starting to wonder what sort of a quest they might be on, quietly contemplating the relative ease with which they were, he assumed, accomplishing the objectives of the quest when Anemone dropped back to walk beside him.

"Not a priest," Tomas said, speaking in a low tone that would not carry to the others. "I am a monk in the real world, though I do have an ordination like a priest and so, technically, I can take confession from you... child," Tomas continued in the same low tone as Anemone confessed to having had some impure thoughts. Before the matter could be more deeply delved into, however, the group found themselves under attack from a group of winged monkeys. "Ah, the Wizard of Oz," he murmured to himself, drawing his rapier but declining to engage the mobs for the time being. Tomas was not suicidal, so far as he was concerned he thought it possible that he was the only hope any of the poor trapped souls of Aincrad had to achieve any kind of freedom. "Perhaps this is not the time, or place, for confession," he remarked dryly.

Tomas remained silent and impassive as the combat commenced against the three minotaurs who were, in short order, quickly joined by another trio of soldiers. This was shaping up, for all intents and purposes to be a potentially dangerous fight. Those thoughts were confirmed a moment later when Izzrikl's soul was freed from the digital prison that was Aincrad. As the blue pixels that had, until so recently, been Izzrikl dissipated in the air and fully freed Izzrikl's very soul to return to his maker Tomas bowed his head and murmured a few words in Latin, "Mane astabo tibi, et videbo quoniam non Deus volens iniquitatem tu es*," the monk said in a soft, barely audible whisper as the monk dropped to both knees, however briefly. Where Tomas was concerned it was not his duty to personally free each and every one of the souls trapped in the purgatory of Aincrad, only to see to it that they were, indeed, set free.

"Da aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei**," Tomas continued in a low tone, his black leather gloved hand reaching to the simple crucifix that hung on a slender golden chain around his neck as he offered a brief prayer for the departed. "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, requiesce in pace." The brown haired man released the holy symbol and allowed it to fall to dangle from the chain at his neck before crossing himself quickly with his right hand.

Rising to his feet, once more, Tomas drew Viper's Strike, a slender silver bladed rapier with a serpentine motif, from the simple leather scabbard at his side. Raising the weapon vertically before his face and body, Tomas saluted the minotaurs and launched his own assault on Colonel Nato. Based on what he had seen so far, and the fact that Nato's health bar was already more than half gone, even if only just so, that seemed to be the wisest course of action. Weaving his way nimbly in between the players from the third group that had just attacked, the fencing monk launched a flurry of lightning quick strikes that were each parried by Colonel Nato. Raising the silver rapier to a guard position of his own, the brown haired man swirled his dark garments in a fluid motion and melted back from Nato, dropping into a somewhat safer position behind and slightly to the right of Shield.

* The Latin, in English: "I called on the Lord in distress; The Lord answered me and set me in a broad place. " - Psalm 118:5.
** The Latin, in English: "Give him eternal rest, O Lord, and may your light shine on him forever." - A Catholic Prayer for the Dead
*** The Latin, in English: "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, rest in peace."

Roll and Battle Order:

A warm morning sun shone down upon the Town of Beginnings as an ancient and weathered man reclined in a chair outside a shop with an old wooden sign on it carrying the image of potioneer's bottle painted upon it in faded black paint. With his fingers laced over his stomach, Zackariah snored softly in the wooden chair that was precariously tilted backwards on two legs leaning against the shop's wall, as a golden exclamation mark hung in the air above his head. It was to this white haired and bearded man that a shadowy figure clad in black with a simple and small wooden crucifix around his neck approached, his eyes focused on the indicator of a quest. Placing a leather booted foot upon one of the upraised legs of the chair, Tomas applied enough pressure to cause the chair to slam down to the ground before jerking his foot back.

"What the," Zackariah started, coming awake with a jerk and looking around in shock for a moment before his grey eyes came to rest upon the player that was clothed all in black with a deep hood pulled over his head. "Can I help you?" Tomas considered his response for a few seconds before answering.

"I am a traveler from a strange land," the monk began, bowing his head slightly in Zackariah's direction. "I seek a knowledge and understanding of this land's customs and potioneering practices."

"Is that all," the old man asked with a snort. "Head out into the fields and bring me back some crafting materials, then we'll get started." With that, the old timer tilted his chair back again and, promptly, went back to sleep.

As he finished equipping the gear that had been donated to him by the enormous blacksmith, Tomas considered the significant upgrade as he casually allowed the silver studded fabric of the heavy cloak he was now wearing to trail loosely through his fingers for a few seconds. The items were of a superior quality, that much was certain, even if the bonuses that they granted were not quite along the lines of what Tomas was planning to do in terms of build. Bowing his head, slightly, in the direction of the ginger haired man the real world monk offered thanks. "Gratias," he murmured in quiet tone. Before he could return his attention to speaking to the cat woman, the Vice Commander had boomed out a demand for everyone to be quiet and then Anemone had explained what was going on. Resting a gloved hand upon the hilt of his new rapier, Tomas gestured for the others to lead the way and then fell into step with them as the group set off on the quest.

"I have a more refined taste in romantic partners, unfulfilled perhaps, but I find that people are like fine wine and much better with age," Tomas replied in a soft, but carrying tone. "Children are, of course, the gift of our Lord," he continued in the same low and even tone, "and those who fail to safeguard such blessings are a blight upon the fabric of humanity. Theirs is not mine to judge, would that it were for they would suffer a most gruesome fate, for Hell would be a holiday for them. Our Lord may be most merciful and forgiving to such monsters," Tomas mused in a tone tinged with the barest hint of malice. "But, I am not."

When the silver rapier, Viper's Strike, appeared in Mack's overly large hands it became apparent to Tomas that the towering ginger man was about to upgrade Tomas' gear. A step in the right direction, an important step on the path towards completing his divinely appointed mission. Perhaps, the Vice Commander would be among the last to have his soul freed from the digital prison. After all, one did not lightly dispose of potential allies. "A question though, Miss Kitty. I do not recall telling you, or anyone else for that matter, that I belong to Holy Rome in an official capacity. How did you know," Tomas asked as he accepted the equipment from Mack and activated it, paying little heed to Anemone and the dog, for the time being.

A dark figure melted into the shadows of the trees surrounding the glade where Asterios and his retainers were located. Having received word of the impending altercation with the boss, Tomas had arrived and was considering his odds carefully as he lounged in the tree hidden by the leafy foliage and the darkness of his black hooded cloak. Admittedly, the gear he had received from Mack was mostly heavy armor and rather unsuited to the build that the fallen holy man would have favored but it would be sufficient for the time being. With the upgraded armor and weapon, to say nothing of what he had seen so far of the Boss, Tomas thought it likely that he would have reasonable odds of surviving the combat. If nothing else, it should result in at least one or maybe even more levels being added to his score.

Leaning his back against the rough bark of the digital tree where he was perched, Tomas called out loud enough for Hikoru to hear him. "I'm in," the black clad man called, sliding from the tree branch and landing gracefully on the ground below in a pool of dark fabric.

Stats:

Tomas started to scowl as the woman who thought she was a cat landed behind him on the ground and made her presence known. But, the monk managed to school his features into a carefully neutral and blank expression. Almost idly, the dark man's delicate fingers moved to the slender crucifix hanging from his neck and wrapped around the cool metal. Twitching the religious symbol in his fingers until it caught the light of the sun, Tomas produced a spot of reflected sunlight from the talisman to appear on the ground and proceeded to send the little flash of light dancing all around Miss Mestophales' feet as the ginger headed man made a comment about both Tomas' own poor gear and the feline woman's appearance as he pulled up his inventory.

"Look at the spot," Tomas commented in a dry tone, pointing with his free hand at the dancing mote of light on the ground. It was no red laser pointer dot, but it was likely the best that could be done within the world of Aincrad. "Shouldn't you catch that spot? It's mocking you," he continued, addressing his remarks to the scantily clad feline-like woman. As Tomas continued to twitch the spot of light reflecting from the crucifix around he inclined his head slightly in the direction of Anemone. The brown haired man would have enjoyed nothing so much as running his rapier through all three of the players there with him, until their health pools were completely depleted, but now was not the time or place. In the first place, the ginger was a high ranking member of one of the more powerful guilds in the game, and in the second place they were all in a safe zone. Now was not the time to begin carrying out his divinely appointed mission.

"My, my," the dark haired man called down to Sarial as she responded to his actions in having thrown the dart in the cat woman's general direction. "I do hope you don't speak to your parents in such a tone," Tomas continued, turning his head again to face the now armed Sarial. "After all, do we not receive valuable knowledge when we learn, 'Totum spiritum suum profert stultus sapiens differt et reservat in posterum,'*?" the holy man from the real world asked, quoting from Proverbs 29:11 and not particularly caring if those listening were well versed in Latin or not.

Reaching to a pouch at his waist, Tomas produced another throwing dart and twirled it in his fingers. "If I had meant to hit the cat woman, I would have," he said in a calm tone that was, entirely, too silky sounding. "Besides that, we're in a safe zone here. I couldn't harm her even if that was my inclination," he continued, as Miss Mestopholes took several steps and pounced on Nocturn. As she sat perched on the other player Tomas flicked the dart he was holding in the cat woman's direction. It hit the ground a few feet from her and lodged in the stone of the street before shattering into pixels. "I'm merely playing with a pet, cats enjoy chasing bright and sparkly things, do they not?"

*The Latin, in English, from the New King James Version, for those who care: "A fool vents all his feelings,but a wise man holds them back."

One of the first, and most important, tasks to carrying out any objective from the seemingly trivial to the very mission of one's existence, aside from understanding to overall goal was to plan out the necessary action steps. Simply flying off the handle would do no one any good. Tomas fully intended to be the person responsible for freeing the all of the ensnared souls within the digital Aincrad prison and, when there was but his single name on the Monument of Life then, and only then, would Tomas throw himself from the edge of one of the floors. Of course, that day was a long way off yet. He could hardly go around simply knifing players with skills as woefully deficient as his own. That was a sure way to see his own soul released well before its time.

No, what was required for the time being was the gathering of intelligence. Knowledge, of floor layouts and player builds and innumerable other little nuggets, was the currency with which he would purchase the freedom of all the souls here. Well, knowledge and violence towards all those who failed to grasp the divine purpose of his mission. A messy business, but a necessary one. Another, closely related necessary task was to increase his own skills. The monk was pondering these various lessons as he lay on his back in one of the trees that provided both a home and shade on the fifteenth floor of the tower. As the dark fabric of his clothing served to conceal him from those going about their business on the thoroughfares of the street below the sound of voices floated up to the monk where he lay watching and listening. Turning his head to one side, he peered down at the two chatting players beneath him, given the look of the big one and the colors of his garments which marked him as a Knight of the Blood Oath, Tomas was reasonably certain that he might be allowed to tag along on whatever they were going to do. It would be an easy way to power level and, perhaps, gain some other rewards or even charity.

"Quodcumque potest manus tua facere instanter operare quia nec opus ratio nec scientia nec sapientia erunt apud inferos quo tu properas,*" Tomas whispered to himself in a quiet tone, quoting the tenth verse of the ninth chapter of Ecclesiastes from the Latin Vulgate. Rolling to one side, the black clad figure dropped the twenty or so feet to the ground, tumbled forward into a roll over one shoulder and came to a stop in a crouch before rising slowly to his feet and drawing back the hood to reveal a slightly tousled shock of brown hair and a clean shaven face.

"My apologies for dropping in," he said in a low, even tone as he deliberately drew the dark folds of the cloak away from his weapon to reveal the hilt of a clearly inferior rapier for the current floor. "But, you two have the look of people who will be taking on a quest of some sort. If you are willing to take on a particularly silent leech, I should like to tag along. You may call me Tomas."

*Ecclesiastes 9:10 in English from the NKJV Translation, should anyone care for the translation into English: "¹⁰ Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might; for there is no work or device or knowledge or wisdom in the grave where you are going."

Tomas lounged in the second floor windows of one of the many buildings that were to be found around the Town of Beginnings. The monk's dark clothing and hooded cape blended into the shadows cast on the window sill by the buildings awning as he held a small wooden crucifix in his fingers, absently rubbing the symbol with his right thumb. "Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saeculorum. Amen," the monk said in a quiet tone, praying almost silently the Glory Be Prayer in Latin. As he was finishing up with the prayer the sounds of a slight disturbance, and the thud of someone striking the street, reached his ears. Sighing, he opened his dark eyes and allowed them to dart in the direction of the noise, quirking on eyebrow ever so slightly.

A cat woman. That was new.

Reaching to the black leather belt that encircled his waist, the priest drew a delicate looking throwing dart and twirled it dexterously between the fingers of his left hand before flipping the weapon to his right and flinging it with a backhanded gesture in the direction of the three players in the street. The small dart struck the ground at the feet of @Miss_Mestophales where it shattered into a handful of pixels that were sure to draw her attention. After all, cats were often drawn to shiny moving things, like laser pointer dots. Honestly, it would have shocked the monk if the woman had tried to bat at the pixels with her hands.

"You are disturbing the peace of the day," Tomas said in a low, but carrying tone. "Et abiit*," he continued, making a backhanded shooing gesture at the feline looking woman as he lounged in the window sill with the languid body language of a coiled predator, waiting to strike if those below proved unwilling to acquiesce to his request. He turned his head away from the assembled group, though he kept his gaze fixed on the feline woman out of the corner of one eye. "I also thought it was dogs that licked people, not cats. Unless... do you regard that other woman as prey," Tomas asked, speaking in such a tone that indicated his respect level would be somewhat greater for Mestophales if her answer to the question was in the affirmative.

*Et abiit - Be gone.

OOC: Again, just observing. Not taking part in the combat. @Beat, you're still up.

Tomas exhaled a misty plume of air from his lungs as the sounds of swords striking against some foreign surface began to float up on the chill night air. Reaching out with his black leather gloved right hand he wrapped his fingers around the steel ring that was set into the trap door that led from the top of the bell tower to the chapel's interior and, as silently as possible, eased the door open. That done he snaked the bell's pull rope down through the now open trap door and then began to slither down the rope head first like some kind of silent shadow serpent. The thought of the serpentine similarities caused the corners of the Monk's mouth to quirk up, ever so slightly, though there was similarity at all between his mission in life and the serpent from the beginning of the Book of Genesis, so far as Tomas was concerned.

Easing down the rope until he had a clear view of the chapel's spacious interior. Once he had a clear view of the goings on the Monk merely hung upside down from the rope, observing the goings on with dark eyes and making nary a sound as he hung like a spider from the pull rope. It didn't appear as if this boss was going to present that much of a challenge to the players taking part. Pity. It would have been nice if the game could have provided a few obstacles to knock out some of the other players within the digital prison, it would make Tomas' mission that much more easily accomplished. Still, it was of no matter. However difficult the path proved to be regarding the freeing of these poor souls he would see it through until the end, either with all of them dying or his own death.

OOC: Non-Combatant, only observing. Ineligible for any Boss-Related SP, Col, or Item Drops. Eligible only for basic thread rewards.

When players had started to filter out of the castle where the Valentine's event had been taking place to head off, instead, to some place where there was apparently a boss fight waiting a silent shadow slipped from its perch on the high windowsill and dropped lightly to the ground in a dark pool of midnight black fabric. Rising to his feet, Tomas fished a basic pair of black leather gloves from an interior pocket of his cloak and pulled them on as he blended quietly into the shadows at the edges of the group as he followed at a discreet distance, making no attempt to speak to anyone that was present.

When the guards stopped and barred the way into the Chapel with their crossed weapons the Monk scowled and moved away from the group to begin circling the chapel. It would be a simple enough matter to find the bell tower at the far end of the stone building. After a few moments of circling the impressive building Tomas found what he was seeking. Even better, the pull rope for the bell was dangling down the outside of the tower. Wrapping the rope in his hands, the brunette gave it an experimental tug and, satisfied that it would hold his weight, he slithered up the rope until his feet crossed over the railing of the bell tower to once again touch solid ground.

Kneeling next to the trap door that led from the tower into the chapel proper, Tomas quietly drew up the bell's pull rope after himself, coiling it around his feet. Once the sounds of combat reached his ears he would open the trap door and slither down the rope like a Cirque de Soleil performer to watch the fight without taking part himself. With a bit of luck this monster would remove a few players from the population and, in so doing, lessen the burden that was Tomas' to bear.

"Quia adhuc visus procul et apparebit finem et non mentietur si moram fecerit expecta illum quia veniens veniet et non tardabit,*" the Monk murmured in a soft whisper to himself, quoting a passage from the Book of Habakkuk in Latin. The verse served as a reminder that, just as it was not yet the time to enter the chapel in safety, so too was it not yet the time to begin an active campaign against the player population of Aincrad. There was still much groundwork to be laid, a firm foundation to put in place, before the he could begin fulfilling his calling in earnest.

*Once again, the English translation of Habakkuk 2:3 from the King James Version, for those that care: "³ For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry."

OOC: Not participating in the Boss Fight. Only want to grab some SP... and be creepy.

Tomas lounged, almost lazily, on the sill of one of the windows high up the wall of the main ballroom where the dance event was going on. The tall thin man, with deceptive wiry strength in his lean muscles, was clad all in midnight black, including a simple but deep hooded cloak, except for the common white priest's collar at his throat and the rapier at his hip. The weapon itself was but a common iron rapier, a beginner's weapon, and the crude blade resided in simple and unadorned leather sheath. Idly the former monk, in the real world at least, allowed his gaze to sweep disinterestedly over the crowd as he murmured under his breath in Latin.

"Ave Maria, gratia plena,
Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mullieribus,
et benedictus fructus ventris tui, lesus.
Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,
ora pro nobis peccatoribus
nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen."

As he prayed the Ave Maria, or as the prayer was known in English the Hail Mary, the educated man's gaze never turned heavenward. Instead it remained fixed upon the players as they danced, dueled, and made merry with one another. Though a few had spotted him upon his perch, most of the players remained blissfully unaware of his presence, so few people ever bothered to look up. This was especially true in a fantasy world that lacked both magic and the power of flight. Equally, it was clear from their actions, joy, and frivolity that so many of them failed to understand the true nature of their existence.

They were prisoners.

Prisoners who needed to be set free from their chains of bondage through a single sacrificial act.

They needed to die. Each and every one of them, for it was only through death that they could find freedom from their digital prison through an escape into the next life.

"spiritus Domini super me eo quod unxerit Dominus me ad adnuntiandum mansuetis misit me ut mederer contritis corde et praedicarem captivis indulgentiam et clausis apertionem*," Tomas said in a quiet tone, speaking only to himself as he bowed his head and recited Isaiah 61:1 in Latin.

Someone needed to free these prisoners. If they lacked the conviction to free themselves then it fell to another to free them. This was Tomas' appointed mission, his purpose. They would hate and fear him, he would be reviled for accepting this mission.

But, just because a path was righteous that did not always mean a path was easy. That was one of the many lessons contained within the Gospels.

This was Tomas' path, his purpose, his reason for having been led to this place in his life. He would take up his cross gladly, bear it faithfully, until the path reached its end through either the freedom, in death, of all of the people trapped within the digital world or the cessation of Tomas' own life.

*For anyone that would care to see the quoted verse in English, here it is from the King James Version:
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;"

Profile
Username: Tomas
Real name: Juan Torquemada
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Height: 6'2"

About: History/personality

Born into a rigidly Catholic family, the fifth of seven children, Juan led a somewhat sheltered life, at least outside of the digital realm. From the time he could walk, talk, and begin comprehending the material he was being presented with Juan was brought up parochially in what would be referred to by many as extremist, even inquisitorial, orthodoxy. His education in the home continued throughout his childhood until he reached an age where it became necessary to send him off, as his brothers and sisters were or would be depending on the case, to a church-run mono-gendered (All Boys) institution for continued education up through the completion of a high school diploma. With the diploma in hand he was enrolled in another Catholic institution, only to emerge three and a half years later with a history degree that had focused heavily on the study of the military monastic orders (the Knights Templar, Knights Hospitaller, Order of the Holy Sepulcher, etc.).

In short order, by his own choice, Juan had entered a monastery and taken vows to enter the novitiate. Over the next five years Juan completed the equivalent of a Master's Degree while a member of the order and was in the process of completing a doctoral degree with the intention of becoming a professor when he was sucked into the world of Sword Art Online, having turned to video games as a means of relaxation. Over the first several months of his incarceration within the digital prison Juan kept himself cloistered away in the Town of Beginnings following the rigidly monastic lifestyle that had been ingrained from his earliest days as a candidate and then member of the novitiate. During this time his world view, and sanity, gradually began to skew around until he reached a point where he was prepared to become somewhat more proactive within the player community.

Virtues:

Rigid - Once he has settled on a course of action Juan will rigidly follow that course. He can be depended on to see things through to the end, provided he has either given his word to do so or he has decided on his own that the course of action he is taking is either correct or righteous. This physical and mental rigidity are beneficial in that they give Juan the necessary strength to see things through to the end despite obstacles.

Charismatic - For better or worse, Juan is a charismatic person. When he chooses to employ his talents in this area he can generally convince other people to follow him. While he is a typically cold and distant person, when the occasion calls for it he is quite capable of pouring on the charm or blending into a crowd.

Patient - Due to his parochial education and lifestyle choices, Juan can always be counted on to be patient. He rarely loses his temper or behaves in a rash or uncalculated manner. He is quite capable of moving with glacial slowness when the occasion merits it and he has no qualms with  passing up potentially good circumstances for enacting his plans until the perfect and ideal situation lines itself up.

Flaws:

Rigid - Juan is a very black and white world view kind of person. There is his view, which he indisputably views as the correct one, and there is the view of everyone else. Where the views of others deviate from his own views Juan will, categorically, view the other person or group of people as being incorrect.

Distant - Juan is the type of person that likes to keep everyone at arm's length. He is not the type to be running around player populated areas spouting his views and beliefs. He's also not the type to spill any details about his real life or, in general terms, his deepest thoughts to other people. He likes to play things close to the vest.

Skewed - Over the course of the time that he has been trapped within the digital prison of Sword Art Online Juan has developed a very skewed personal belief system based around his religion. He has warped and misapplied the tenants of his faith to the point where they could be called many things, but valid application is not one of them. These views have fundamentally changed Juan from the person that he was and have turned him into an extremely dangerous individual.

Profession: (Leave blank until the Earning a Living quest has been completed.)

Skills
Non-combat:
»

Passive:
»

Combat:
» Light Armor - Level 1 (5 SP)

Weapon skills:
» Rapier - Level 1 (5 SP)


Inventory

Player Related:
» Level - 4
» Skill Points - 10 (10 Used)
» Health Points - 80
» Energy - 8
» Damage - 5
» Accuracy - 3
» Evasion - 0
» Mitigation - 27

Weapons:
» Iron Rapier
» Viper's Strike: +3 DMG

Armor:
» Beginner Clothes - Black
» Duelist's Gloves: +3 ACC
» Midnight's Purpose: +27 MIT

Consumables:

Misc.:
» Col - 0
» T1 Materials - 0
» T2 Materials - 0
» T3 Materials - 0


Roleplays
» [Event] Dance of the Crossed Paths - +1 SP
» [Event] True Love Strikes Harder - +3 SP
» [Open] New Friends, Frights, and a Fresh Start - +1 SP

Relationships (optional)



Story Thus Far (optional)