Timothy shone. He sparkled. He was an adventurer's adventurer.
Alexander Pierpoint somehow managed to get stuffy and dusty around the time of puberty, even when his parents were still forcing Tim to take fencing lessons and get out, the Pierpoint sisters were always ambitious and efficient, but Timothy Pierpoint was one of those rare people who could light up a room just by walking into it. The life of the party, any party, and if there wasn't a party he could make one happen on the spot.
Timothy would take any challenge if it seemed fun. Whether that meant dancing and drinking the night through with the fauns in the forest, stealing a priceless tome from the library of an old miser, charming and seducing five women in one night and somehow leaving them all with happy memories, or dueling a Hellknight, he would do it. He felt that life was there to be experienced and enjoyed to the fullest.
Like his father and big brother before him, Timothy enjoyed fine claret, but he would drink beer as though it were water. Timothy would dance with any woman, beautiful or ugly, young or old, married or single, so long as it put a smile on her face. Timothy would win a fortune at the card tables or steal some priceless treasure from someone who only kept it to have it, then throw handfuls of gold at the destitute and miserable. Timothy despised tobacco (Alexander once caught him smoking and gave him a long, boring lecture about what tobacco can do to a young man's body, which he actually took to heart) and drugs, but he never found a game he didn't love. Chess, cards or dice, anything was good so long as it was played with good cheer.
During his brief visits home, he would often spend the evenings playing chess with his father and big brother, or join his mother and sisters in endless games of cards. Those were good times, when everyone was having fun together and chatting amiably about their day.
Somehow Timothy was both the bane of the law -- his tendency to 'liberate' items which he felt belonged to the world, rather than the collections of greedy souls (rather like Indiana Jones) -- and one of its staunchest allies -- he would never condone people who robbed and hurt others for crass gain, and he would expose them to the law as soon as he had enough information for the constabulary to use. He could be horribly infuriating one moment, then soothe hurt feelings with an utterly sincere smile and compliment. The same guardsmen who suspected him of theft could not help but smile when he thanked them for doing their best every day to make the world a better place for the weak and innocent.
Timothy loved life far too much to take it seriously, the way his parents and sisters did, or to shy away from it like his big brother did. Despite their differences, he loved them all dearly; if he hadn't, he would not have come home after each mad, wonderful adventure to tell them all about it. He never criticized his beloved family for the way they chose to live their lives, even if it seemed alien to him, but likewise never took them seriously when they tried to warn him or lead him to a more 'acceptable' lifestyle.
Certainly, Timothy was deeply distraught when word of his parents' death reached him (a carriage accident, which took them both at the same time) and he rushed straight home to be with his family. Maybe it was his grief that made him head to Wati; Timothy had never felt the pain of this kind of loss before, and all the fine claret in the world could not dull it. Maybe he felt the need to do something wonderful and outrageous, such as bringing the treasures of Ancient Osirion to light, so men like his big brother could coo over them and study them to their heart's content. Maybe that would bring back some of the joy he felt he'd lost when those two coffins were lowered into the earth.
Alas... Whatever his reasons, and despite how noble his intentions may have been... One more coffin was lowered into the ground at the Pierpoint family plot, and the world seemed a little less cheerful to the thronging attendants. The women he'd danced and romanced, the guardsmen he'd both outrun and supported, the card players he'd challenged and joked around with, the adventurers he'd travelled with, and even the Hellknight with whom he'd duelled at least once every year, they all agreed that the world seemed a sadder place, a colder place, a less bright place for his passing. And no matter how different they were, they went out together and shared a drink in Timothy Pierpoint's memory.
