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Character Histories N-Z

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Apr. 24th, 2009 | 10:40 pm
posted by: tsuyosaoboetai in long_live_rpg

Please post here with your character's Name, Age, and History from your application. Make sure to post your character history in the appropriate letter according to their first name!

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Comments {19}

Jayden Mackenzie

N

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:41 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

O

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:41 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

P

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:41 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

Q

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:42 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

R

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:42 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

S

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:42 am (UTC)
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Shaolin Fon

Shaolin (Soi) Fon

from: swiftly_rising
date: Apr. 26th, 2009 05:25 pm (UTC)
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Age: 26

History: Before there was Shaolin Fon there came five boys. Five brothers of various strengths and weaknesses in a ray of handsome features. The first-born was named Yu Wei, a heavy baby at birth who grew to be a strong, brass young man. He was born into poverty. The Fon’s had yet to build wealth, for they were not Fon’s yet. Yu Wei was the illegitimate son, but the man he came to know as “father” hated neither his wife nor the boy. He gladly accepted them into his family and told no one that Yu Wei was not his boy. That was when the money built. When Yang Ji married Jin-Sang Fon. They were happy despite family problems at the main house. Jin-Sang was wealthy enough, however, to move into one of the Estates way out in the countryside of the First Tier. The second and third sons, twins, were born upon that land. Chen and Huan were tricksters, as twins should be, and enjoyed life to the fullest. However, they were young and hated the fact that there would be a fourth brother among them just after their fifth birthday. Yu Wei, then eight, said it would be a blessing to have more siblings. Begrudgingly, at first, the boys agreed. Soon they came to like Tao just as Yu Wei had come to like them.

Four boys living in one home seemed to be a lot, but for the grand house on the rolling green grass it was nothing. The boys head plenty of room to play and grow. Plenty to do with their servants and many toys. Yet, by pure accident this time, a fifth child was to be brought into this life. With the economy on the rise, the Emperor so powerful and great, the Fon’s had nothing to worry about. Mingli was the youngest of the sons--the most caring and gentle. He wanted to be a doctor and save the lives of many for his head bled for the poor by the time he was eight. Shaolin, by then, was four years old herself. After having five boys Yang Ji was sure their next child would be a girl. She prayed to the gods every night of her pregnancy for a little girl, so beautiful as the sky and warm as the sun. She got her wish one snowy winter day in February. Shaolin made her appearance into the busy household without much crying on her part. She grew to be the silent one, the quiet girl who obeyed all orders and bowed her head in respect to all of her brothers.

She loved them too much to see them cross and so her mother began to raise her daughter as all mothers did. Shaolin learned to sing and dance, to be lovely and graceful. Almost naturally she had the ability to dance, her rhythmic steps bringing tears to the guests she performed for. It was as though she walked on air every moment of her life. Never loud, never noisy, never making a sound, Shaolin moved through the house on the most silent steps. Even her brothers in training couldn’t call her out when she sneaked up behind them with afternoon tea or a book, asking them to read to her. Yu Wei and Chen had already moved out of the house by the time their little sister was eight. The eldest had a wife and a job, though he had no need to work with the wealth his family shared with him. Yu Wei felt he would always know his place no matter what his father said. He was not really a rich son. Chen, too, was married and was expecting a child come spring. He lived on a nearby Estate, Yu Wei and his wife lived in the nicest home in the Second Tier they could afford. Both preferred the busy activities of the city.

One by one Shaolin watched her siblings move out of the Estate and into camps or the city. Mingli was the last to go, of course, admitted into the Academy of Medicine when he was eighteen. Shaolin visited him often when she voyaged into the Second to shop. As a young woman she loved shopping and always held conversations with her favorite vendors. Everyone was so kind! But a call came in during once visit to Mingli that Huan had died at sea. The steam technology that was so quickly becoming popular had done away with her brother after he had fallen overboard, sucked into the propeller. He didn’t stand a chance.

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Shaolin Fon

Re: Shaolin (Soi) Fon

from: swiftly_rising
date: Apr. 26th, 2009 05:25 pm (UTC)
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For days his sister cried. Death was new and shocking, her heart felt as if it could never take it again. Mingli said it would have to for she had four more stupid older brothers who would do something ridiculous late into their lives. He was not trying to be cruel, merely rational.

Agreeing with him that death had to come eventually, she was devastated to see it came so soon. Yu Wei was attacked during a trip to the shopping centre in the capital causing him to fall down a flight of stairs. By the time she was sixteen all her brothers but one had died. Mingli hung on to life as long as he could, waiting for her in the emergency room he worked in for two years long. How, thought Shaolin, could in the two years time it took for him to study medicine and save so many people, all five of her brothers die?

Two years!

The statistics seemed impossible. Tao always had had a weak immune system, but did he have to die so young? He had yet to reach a quarter of a century old! And Chen. . .dear Chen. He always tried to make his forever-sad sister smile when he stopped by. Shaolin was left with two brothers, Mingli and Chen, and both hated to see her cry. Her dances were filled with sorrow and pain. The music she played sounded like the echoes of death. Chen was shot in the chest during an outbreak at the border to the North. And that left Mingli, the last to see Shaolin cry.

Left with only her parents to console her, Shaolin shut herself away. She didn’t want their shoulder’s to cry on. In her head she knew they were suffering just as much as she, if not more, but in her heart she could not bring herself to love them. Love? Was this pain love? The supposedly glorious feeling one has when one loves another so much? Family love was different, of course, but Shaolin didn’t want to imagine what it was like to love anyone else. She neither wanted to know nor cared to find out any longer. A sixteen year old with dreams of a family and life shattered, Shaolin emerged from her room one afternoon for dinner. The Fon household had returned to some normalcy. Dinner consisted of the three as it had for the past few years. It was quite and comfortable, peaceful almost.

“Father,” said the girl from behind a hanging lock of hair. “I want to lead a troupe in the Northern Camp.”

Yang Ji nearly passed out at the news, Jin-Sang stared down upon his daughter. Women were not accepted into the military. It was not their place. Yet Jin-Sang had connections and friends in the business, people he knew who would take good care of his daughter. However, for months he and his wife rejected Shaolin’s proposal. Each night when she brought it up she would scream at the top of her lungs, an act so far out of character that it revealed her true passion. “I don’t want to see people die!” she shouted. “Let me try!”

Still, they said ‘no’ and Shaolin was forced to do it herself. Behind the backs of her parents and the guise of the name “Soi” did Shaolin begin strategic training. She sent in work to her father’s friends, men who had links to the North and could critique her plays. It turned out she had a mind for the military. She saw it all as a puzzle and put the pieces together more and more swiftly each attempt she was given. Shaolin studied old tomes and read as much as she could on war. If you fought to win the battle, you lost. Such was her decision. But if you fought to win the war, you would win. Your goals must be higher than the nearest endgame. Never did her plots finish with one enemy captain dead, but all of them. In the fewest attacks possible, as well.

The military was impressed.

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Shaolin Fon

Re: Shaolin (Soi) Fon

from: swiftly_rising
date: Apr. 26th, 2009 05:26 pm (UTC)
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When they asked for “Soi” to come in and work, Shaolin quickly replied in a letter stating that “he” had an illness that left him bedridden. It was with great sadness that he could not attend the camp physically. Yet with technology still on the rise, the need for information arriving faster each and every day, the North enlisted “Soi Fon” as one of their strategists. The use of the telegraph made it easier for her to communicate with the base camp. A man was then assigned in her place to a team of young men to train. His name was Soi Fon, but the man standing before twenty-some men was not really Soi Fon. His given name was Akira Takaru, a middle-aged man with a chip on his shoulder. Between his barking voice and the commands Shaolin sent, the men brought up by “Soi Fon” were some of the swiftest in the military. They were taught to think five steps ahead of the enemy, see the outcome of tomorrow and surpass that of the end of today.

Shaolin was pleased with herself, though she dearly wished she could have seen the men in action. At twenty-two her father brought his ice princess to an exhibition where she was actually able to see her squad work. Akira was not pleasing to the eye or the ear, she noticed with a grimace, but he got the job done. His calls were staccato and precise, the men doing what they were told when. They were very good and Shaolin allowed herself a pleased smirk that her parents, unfortunately bore witness to. Since that day they began to grow hope that she would emerge from her hard shell and return to her softer ways. No longer did she dance or play music in the same fashion she once had. Only by request of her mother or father would she stand before them in her long, luxurious dresses and move across the wooden floor of the Estate to a languid song.

Only by her lonesome would Shaolin ever express any sort of pleasure or partake in fun. She would dance behind locked doors, sing when out for walks around the lush grounds where no one could hear her, or smile to herself in the cover of darkness. Secret lives were so much easier to keep. Less people were hurt that way.

Though she did pity the men who her parents brought in to try to marry her off to. Most left without having even listened to her speak, the glare received enough to tell them to get out while they had the chance.

Suitors just did not suit Shaolin.

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Stark

Stark

from: battle_passive
date: Jun. 30th, 2009 11:57 pm (UTC)
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Born to an impoverished woman just barely scrapping by at the bottom of the Second Tier, Stark was never named by his mother--he was named by his stepfather ten years after his birth. He hardly knew his mother despite living with her. They never spoke about how she paid for food and clothes with her body. He never asked. She was hardly home once he reached five-years-old and could "take care of himself," she working hard for her little boy. The woman would always say she loved him, which was why she “worked her ass off” for him. As a boy Stark did not understand, and so he did not complain. He played with a few meager toys given to him by neighbors—though his favorite was a little soldier he stole off a boy down the street. Being a quiet kid meant he didn’t get into trouble and he liked to keep it that way. Rarely did he play with the other children his age, though there were plenty to be had outside on his street alone. The few that knew him came over to his house to play, only one or two at a time. Boys were loud and obnoxious, generally, and Stark kept to himself. Some of the girls were better friends than the boys; they were content to play boardgames and didn't get nearly as excited as their opposing gender. Good.

His best friend was a little girl whose parents came from a long line of pure Tenkuni citizens. With luck, her parents didn't mind that Stark was only half-foreign because they liked him. The two got along and he never once made the foolish error of rough housing with their daughter. She never got hurt physically, he never saying anything cruel to hurt her mentally. He was a kind lad who liked her company as he got used to it. When birthdays came to pass and they became separated as friends, he realized that she came less often. It was painful at first but his mother told him all good friends came and went, and that if they were destined to be friends again he would cross paths with her. In the distant future, he did.

As Stark then grew older he went through a series of given names because his mother still only called him whatever she felt like; pet names, really. His professors called him by whatever he told them to call him. Some teachers referred to him as "Kouji" and others called him "Dan." It was whatever he felt like telling them to call him. Picking out his own name wasn't hard, he thought, because there were many famous people with good names. He took those until further notice.

One afternoon, when he was eight or nine, his mother brought back a male friend. This man soon became Stark’s stepfather. He wanted nothing to do with the man who had wooed his mother. Jealous of how all the adults got to control her time, her life, he was upset he only got to see her in the morning before she left or after she got home late at night. Then he overheard the two having a conversation about what to call the boy now that they were getting married.

What do you mean he doesn’t have a name? Who doesn’t name their child? asked the man. Stark’s mother had no answer for she was, honestly, not very bright. Her son, fortunately, inherited his biological father’s intelligence and handsome features. Stark drank up information like a fish drank water.

He can’t go nameless, persisted the man who was trying to win a battle for the boy. Stark did not like him any more than he already had, but he was glad to finally have someone on his side of the field. Eventually, he was enrolled in the local education system, joining late because his mother hadn’t been able to afford proper classes after the first grade. His stepfather paid for everything. Food, clothes, school, toys. Nandoya Starrk was a professor of history at the university and made a good sum of money.

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Stark

Re: Stark

from: battle_passive
date: Jun. 30th, 2009 11:57 pm (UTC)
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In school the nameless child signed all of his papers with his newfound last name “Starrk” until he graduated. Top marks, surprisingly. Everyone always thought his social status and money problems would have left him dim as a broken bulb. Not to mention he never seemed to be paying attention in class. Stark was always dozing off in his seat, head tilted to the side and his eyes half closed. He told off his peers who were too loud when the teacher left the room and he argued with his professors that he was not sleeping. Most everyone was amazed when he finished school without a single bad mark. His mother was proud, for once, and his stepfather congratulated him.

What are you going to do, now? his “family” wanted to know. Stark could not answer, having never given himself any sort of goal or career. Both guardians suggested the military until he decided if he wanted to continue education in a certain field such as science, medicine, flight, or one of the many other options. Though he hated the idea of work, he agreed. Even at the age of fifteen he was still trying to please his mother.

The military was not so bad of a place, despite the noise, crowds, shared bunks, and food. There, Stark learned to wield many weapons, which he rather enjoyed using in theory and practice. He made "friends" and held many good conversation with them. One asked if it was annoying to have to write out the "R" in his name twice, another suggested he change it to just one. Stark turned them down until they were moved from pre-training to the Eastern Camp. There had been a mistake in the paperwork where his name was written as just "Stark." Instead of going through the hassle to change it, he left it was it was. It looked better that way.

Still, he did not wish to participate in war. If the military at the time had not been so hung up for members, they would have sent him home with the claim that he was either a disgrace to his country or was a danger to his comrades. A man who would not fight would not come in handy when the chips were down. Stark, however, pulled through. That feeling that came over him pulled him in once he had his steam powered guns in his hands, pack strapped to his back, sand rising under the footfalls of his peers running inland. At that point he told himself it wouldn't be so bad, that they'd be in and out with a quick trip.

It was far worse than he thought.

The division he was apart of had been ordered to remain on location until further notice. On this exact field Stark learn another language, one foreign to most men in Tenkuni. It was the language of his people, or at least in part. Before having left the country on his mission his mother had told him the place he would be sailing to was where she had met his father, a man with tan skin and long, black hair. He spoke another tongue that she had never understood, but had fallen madly in love with the man nonetheless. He took up the advantage of this new place and explored when he was feeling particularly adventurous. It was a rare feeling so he capitalized on it when he had the chance. Over the time spent talking to the civilians he developed an accent (Spanish) and became quite fluent in the foreign language.

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Stark

Re: Stark

from: battle_passive
date: Jun. 30th, 2009 11:57 pm (UTC)
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Seven years passed in which Stark and his comrades were left on enemy land. They invaded, more men coming as the years dragged on, until the people finally gave up. This land belonged to the Emperor now and would be an out post for the Eastern Camp to get supplies from. Never in his life would he have thought to see so much action within ten years. After the first two there was an outbreak that sent some men running, others went straight to their graves. Stark was promoted through the ranks quickly, despite his hatred for war and passive nature. That same battle-driven mentality overrode his other senses, sending him into battle with his guns blazing. He had a damn good shot.

Leading a team of men into one of the nearby villages they destroyed everyone in their path. Many were lost that day. Those that survived came to know the fight as the Battle of Silence, for there was so much gunfire and noise that no other sound could be heard. Some say one couldn’t even hear themselves think over the cries of terror. Fortunately, for Tenkuni, it was a victory; one that went unreported to the populace. Members of the military were sworn not to talk about it for it had been the most bloodshed in years. After that battle Stark tried to have himself dismissed but was unable to leave the grounds. It wasn’t until he was attacked from behind an ambush five years later was he honorably discharged. His left hand was wounded "too badly" to wield a weapon appropriately—so the military thought. Stark had seen enough blood for one lifetime and had used his nerve-damaged hand as an excuse to be removed. Upon the back of his left hand now stands a lone scar traveling from just below the wrist to above his middle-finger knuckle.

Stark now wears gloves to hide the wound.

Removed from battle at the age of 29, he was given a job by the government to continue gaining an income. He had been deemed during his years of service the best man to go to if you needed weaponry advice--Stark hung out by the weapon racks when he wanted a nap. People tended to stay away from the explosives in case of an accident. Currently he works from a secret location in the Second Tier dealing new weapons to the military if the ones being put out by their hired help are not putting out appropriate gear. Though, what the government does not know is that he’s also dealing weapons to the public. If you can find him, and have the cold hard cash, Stark will make a trade in almost any weapon available. Whether he has to go get it for you or wait for it to come in and be in-stock varies week to week. Just know that he has his sources.

If you’re desperate for revenge you could also higher him for freelance. However, due to his hatred of war he charges a pretty penny for his work.

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Jayden Mackenzie

T

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:42 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

U

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:42 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

V

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:43 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

W

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:43 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

X

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:43 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

Y

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:44 am (UTC)
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Jayden Mackenzie

Z

from: tsuyosaoboetai
date: Apr. 25th, 2009 02:44 am (UTC)
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