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Tovell grew up in the Oathlands, taught respectability and faith. Truth and justice were his watchwords. Honor and duty were paramount to him, and he has always held to those pillars of foundation as the bedrock of his life - those ideals to which all should aspire. And yet - and yet he sometimes feels he fails in these aspirations, when temper gets the best of him, or he says something intemperate at the worst possible time. Fiery of temper, Tovell has often found flashes of anger or a thirst for vengance suddenly reaching up and grabbing him by the throat. The Tragedy at Sanctum was particularly difficult, as he was armed and on his horse and a mile from home before he calmed down enough to remember that he had no idea how to avenge the horror that was perpetrated on their beloved capitol city. And yet he wants to do more. He wants to be a good and true Knight. He hears stories of the best of the Knights - most notably Lord Commander Dayne Valardin - and he wants to be better, to conquor his own temper and serve as a defense for the Compact. And so his attention turned to the King's Own and he sought to join their ranks. He will cover himself in honor, he will master his own impulses, he will be the hero that Arx deserves. Or he will die trying.

Broad and stocky, this man's natural build has been sculpted, chiseled, and refined through years of rigorous athleticism, a discipline manifest in every inch of his muscled frame. Standing just under six feet tall, he carries himself with a knight's straight back and measured economy of movement. A thick, unruly shock of fiery red hair tumbles about his face and settles at the bulk of his shoulders. As fiery in their own right, his emerald eyes brighten or darken with any evocation, found deep-set beneath a pair of deceptively serious brows. A russet shadow of stubble follows his jawline, complementing the profile of his full lips and classically high cheekbones. With a sun-darkened complexion prone to ruddiness in his cheeks and along the bridge of a slightly overbold nose, his skin bears a constellation of freckles and a lacework of scars, scattered across his body in vague artistry.

Tovell is quick to smile, but also quick to anger - mercurial, they call him, fiery like the color of his hair. And yet he tries so hard to control himself, to learn to be more patient, calmer, slower to anger. It's slow going but he tries. Still, he is stalwart in a fight and absolutely loyal as men of the Oathlands often are. He takes his oaths seriously, and he knows his emotional eddies are his particular challenge and every day he strives to master them. On good days he is cheerful and pleasant, when the chips are down he is dogged in his determination to persevere, but on bad days he is temperamental and hot-headed.