Kaine

[Kaine]

♛
Kaine
I will take responsibility for what I have done, if I must fall, I will rise each time a better man
- Dalinar Kholin

[[ Most spoilers redacted, but minor ones below - read at your own risk. DO NOT METAGAME! ]]

Theme

Full Name: Kaine
Birthdate: Spring, 1321
Birthplace: Heston
Birthsign: The Angel

Appearance

Age: 25
Height: 6'2
[b]Weight:[/b] 235
Eyes: Green
Hair: Blonde
Handedness: Right-handed
Posture: Militant
Hygiene: Generally good
Scent: Leather and steel

Physical Description: Honey-blonde hair messily hangs just above his shoulders. Clear green-hazel eyes watch stalwartly over his surroundings. Stubble compliments his mouth, adorned by a warm smile like a mask of calm confidence. He stands tall among others at 6'2 and were it not for his calm, quiet demeanor he might seem imposing with a well-muscled frame and militant posture.

Personality

General Health: Good physical health
Profession: Knight Templar (currently unemployed)
Faction Affiliation: None
Languages: Common and Midlandish
Accent: Generally speaks clearly, though when angry or upset a thick Midlandish brogue becomes evident
Roleplay Tools: A book of oaths and prayers

Hobbies: Discussion of the Sacred Eight, prayer, flirting
Habits: Prayer. He prays when he wakes, before he sleeps, and for fallen friend and foe alike.

Personality Description: [wip]

History: Born and raised in Heston, Kaine came from the simple beginnings of a family of laborers. His mother an herbalist and his father a soldier who left her to bear his bastard child. His childhood, though not without its share of hardship, was largely typical. He was nearly still a child when he sought to join the Templar, and by 16 he began his trials. While returning from orders at Prelate’s Peak, the Templar Vanguard communicated his desire and intent to look into events within the First Province. His primary objective was to report findings of and put a stop to rumors of the weaponization of the Torment. He relied on the 901st though he never knew if they directly reached his commander. After returning from the Province to report his findings he chose to join the Order of Decus to return once more with hopes of finding answers to questions that remained heavy on his mind. He sought brotherhood in the Order, but what he found was not what was proposed. The Seraph was not the man he thought he was, and without properly swearing oath to the Order he stepped away only a short time after their arrival at Fort Praesidium.

Strengths: Idealistic, trustworthy, observant, generous
Weaknesses: Naïve, flirtatious, indulgent, ambitious

Governing Virtue: Compassion, Honor
Governing Throne: Shame

[Kaine]

Everything felt still in the evening following the fight between the witch, Thaddeus, and the Black Wolves. Low murmurs of secret conversations to discuss next moves and the safety of the people in the Fort rang on his ears in a low hum of discordance. During the fight Kaine asked Thaddeus if he had struck out against the Inquisitors. The witch confirmed his actions while pleading self-defense. The taste of acidic bile touched his tongue as he recalled the horrors he witnessed at the plantation. The innocent lives that were lost due to people’s selfish actions. People that he had no hope of saving. It was the harsh reality of the Province.

Thaddeus stood his ground that the wolves attacked first, despite Kaine having witnessed the whole scene unfold. Kaine saw a man who had the opportunity to walk away but chose to fight - who continued to fight even after the battle was won. It was a massacre. He broke away from the muted conversations, from accusations of inaction. He sought to find peace inside the halls of the church.

His knees pressed against the cold stone floor at the font of water in front of the dais and altar. He gripped his gloves and pulled them off to wet his fingers in the water to cross himself as he began to murmur a quiet prayer.

I have sworn myself to you. Sworn that I will carry myself in a manner befitting the Eight. I have always known that my deeds and words hold the same weight and that my Honor may be discredited. Perhaps I have failed. Failed to properly uphold the Eight and reject the Thrones. I have sinned. I have fallen to hatred, cowardice, shame, pride, murder, wrath, and lust. For these sins, these failures, I must repent.

Before he could begin to seek his repentance in proper, he heard movement approach behind him, followed by the clearing of a throat. When he turned to look he saw the girl, Samara who asked him for his assistance. The donation chest was a scene of macabre. Some heretic or apostate stuffed human body parts within. His penitence would have to wait.

[Kaine]

The scene that he happened upon at the field hospital near the plantation haunted him. Even as he sat within the tub of hot water and had the soot and sweat cleaned from his flesh and hair, he could not stop thinking about it. The palisade, the watch towers, the tents… he had been involved in aiding in the efforts to build them, and since returning to the First Provence he had paid visit to the Templar and Doctor stationed there frequently. To see it on fire made his stomach turn. He did not hesitate to lend his aid to extinguishing the flames.

The templar soaked his gloves and his spare heavy cloak in the nearby river and used the wet fabric to douse the fires. It took what felt like hours of unending labor, having to re-soak the cloak and resume his task. Most of the supplies were lost, though replaceable - but it was unclear if anything had happened to the templar who were stationed there. What he knew for certain was that a new station of templar were present, though they did not exchange words with him he also did not attempt to discuss the events. He was not going to fail to lend his aid to his brethren.

When the flames finally died down, he found himself lying upon the dirt path and staring towards the sky as he caught his breath and eased the ache within his lungs from the smoke. He wanted to pray, to ask for guidance or for strength but he could not find the words. Once he had enough energy to collect himself, he made the long trek back to the de Ravin Parish. It was there he had found the most comfort. Friends. Allies. Fellow Decusians who cared about the Church and the Republic… and a woman who stirred him from the reverie of the bitter memory and who grounded him to find answers, who gave him the strength to look to the Eight and to begin the search for answers alongside his comrades.