† - The Thirteenth - † - It Begins! - †
Reply With Quote
Name: Markus Trindall
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Number: 13 (someone was gonna pick it...)
World: Sixth of the twelve, 2150, New York, USA, shortly after the end of the nuclear war
Appearance: He's 6'3 and has a rather strong build. His eyes are a deep blue and reflect the hardships of his life, his hair is somewhere between ginger and blonde and is cut short, but in no real style. His clothes are made from a material known as Sohton. It has the appearance and texture of silk but it breathes like cotton. He wears black loose bottoms which are poorly ripped but clearly resemble the style of the Japanese. His back is badly scarred but he wears no clothing to hide it and upon his feet are the remains of a pair of nike sneakers.
Personality: He is quiet and withdrawn, often meditating or watchful. He is not one to make the first move and will not speak to someone unless they speak to him first. In this sense, he does not judge unless judged or trust unless it is proven, it is just his way. He doesn't like talking about the past but constantly dwells upon it himself. He feels secretly guilty about not being able to save anyone in his family and is struggling to cope with the burden of losing them.
History: Originally born in Tokyo, he had always taken a great interest in the old ways of the samurai. He took up karate in order to focus his mind and trained every day from the age of 6. At 8, his wish was granted and he was invited to train as a samurai at a nearby temple. He trained there for six years before the fear of nuclear attack became apparent. He asked how he would be able to complete his training and recieved the simple reply: "when your purpose has been fulfilled". His family moved to New York and a year later, nuclear war began. No one knows how or why because it was so sudden. All anyone knew, was that the outside was not safe for them anymore. As the nukes began to hit the US, he and his family, along with many others, fled to the underground, where the old subways had once been and they waited it out. The war raged for three and a half years, in that time Mark saw his entire family wiped out. Hunger, disease, poinsoning from the contaminated water, it seemed as though there was something to kill off everyone.
He survived somehow and knew it was time to go back. He put on the outfit he had worn during his years of training and decided if he was to move on, he would have to pick up from where he left off. On the surface, wasteland lay before him, there was nothing except death and destruction. Gangs owned the land now, fighting and killing anyone just to exert their authroity. He was involved in many fights but somehow managed to survive. He eventually had to get rid of half of his training wear because it was so badly ripped but tied one strip around his waist as a sign of respect.
He found a pair of trainers in the reamins of an abandoned warehouse and then began to search for some place where civiliisation still lingered.
Weaponry: A sword he crafted himself during his training. Despite all of the modern weapons available to him at this time it was his favourite and what he had been trained to use. The blade is beautifully crafted and has an engraving of a dragon upon it. The handle is in perfect balance with the blade. He carries it upon his back and can use it very effectively.
Other Items: A few scrapts of food he has gathered during his search. Not a lot but enough to keep him going. It is tied in a bundle at his waist.
Other Information: none
Markus Trindal - a.k.a - Death
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After the samurai had left, I sat down and placed the tips of my fingers against my brow. I began to think, blocking out all of those around me. They were a distraction, these people were a distraction to me and I didn't want it, not right now, not so soon after - I shouldn't think about it. It will go away, I will make it go away and I will not rest until it is gone completely.
I watched the others, trying to decide which way to go - except the one called 'Devil', he didn't have a choice. Take the underground or die, his path was set. But these others...look at them, look at how the concept of choice has affected them, look how uncertain they are now. The underground is dangerous but did that mean the surface was any safer? I didn't care, I had made my choice, I knew that life could not exist without a fight and I had the means to fight. Let the mutants try, I will stick to my path.
I stood up and drew my sword. Some stopped and looked, wondering just what I was doing. "I'm taking the underground. I'm not afraid to fight." and I jumped down onto the tracks. I could have walked, just gone and left them but somehow I knew I wouldn't be allowed to take that path, I would just have to wait, wait and see if anyone else dared to take this path with me.
); for a shirt, she wears a bright yellow (short-sleeve) polo shirt that has two white stripes along the edge of the collar and around the arm cuffs, and the shirt goes less than a couple inches over and below her skirt waist; she has ankle socks with Hello Kitty on the outsides of the leg, and small white shoes with (guess who?) Hello Kitty on the outside; she often keeps her hair up in a ponytail with a very fluffy yellow scrunchie.
Originally Posted by extremeanimefreak
