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6/7/09 03:36 pm - Rufus Biography

Name: Rufus Shinra

Age: 17

Birthdate: December 21

Personality:

History:

4/29/09 11:11 pm

Zechs stiffened at his words, what was he implying by such a statement? It did not make any sense whatsoever. Who did he think he was? He was Zechs Merquise, one of the Generals of the Shinra army, a SOLDIER. The odd feeling that came over him was unshakable, making the blond steadily more uncomfortable.

 

Was this a game, or a stall? "...thought I was <i>who</i>?" Unapproachable... Due to the watchful eyes of the Turks constantly stalking him? Was that what this stranger, this <i>Treize Khushrenada</i> meant? Slender, albeit muscled arms crossed his chest, the masked fighter none too pleased with such shielded wording.

 

Something wasn't right about this, did he intend to set a ploy for an ambush? Heh... then that would make him a fool. He was not known as the Lightning Count for nothing.

4/15/09 03:14 pm - Zack Biography

Name: Zackary Fair

Age: 23

Birthday: October 21

Personality:

History:

4/15/09 11:38 am - Zechs Biography

Name: Zechs Marquise (Milliardo Peacecraft)

Age: 25

Birthday: December 31

Physical Description:  Platinum blond hair, pale blue eyes, tanned skin.  He is never seen by anyone without his mask or sunglasses, no matter the time of day or night. It is even rarer to catch the young General in something other than his uniform.

Personality: He is quiet and seclusive, and often considered to be cold towards others. His personality is lacking much structure, the sardonic man hidden beneath infinite layers of confusion and depression. After the loss of his childhood memories, the only parts of himself that he has any sort of emotional connection to is his hair. He nearly mutilated the barber who insisted that the pale locks would have to be chopped off upon his joining of the military.  While he hides his inner angst well, it is only due to his inhuman work efforts. Little time is is used for sleep much less deep introspective thought. Plagued by nightmares, the young fighter often finds solace in alcohol. Not the most wise choice of comfort, but due to his lifestyle, it ist the only reasonable subjugation.   Though whenever too much of his favored "Wild Turkey" gets to him, havoc and mayhem are left in his wake. Often times one of his fellow Generals ends up having to restrain him to avoid harming others or himself.

History: Milliardo Peacecraft was born to one of the few pacifist human families. But long before his birth, his ancestors, along  with several others who held the same beliefs, migrated to the north to remove themselves from the growing conflict on Gaia. Sanc, the people named the small continent, and they prospired on the snowy, rugged terrian. As the years passed and the raging southern nations escalated, the peoples of Wutai and ShinRa sought allegience with the quiet exiles. If just to take advantage of the mysterious healing powers and abilities that they possessed. How else would the humans of the two fueding nations defeat the uprising of mutants?

However, no matter the efforts of each faction, the ShinRa won in a manner of speaking. The heir of the impromptu government claimed to cease all manner of brutal attacks in order to gain one of the young Peacecraft daughter's hand in marriage. While it was not a common practice, at the consent of the young woman.

Milliardo was given a year of peace at the tender age of seven, the fighting that had raged outside his small closeknit group of family and friends having come to a halt. Though it was not to last.

The birth of the new heir to ShinRa also brought the demise of the one lady who tied Sanc to the rest of the world. And with her death, brought on an unearthly rage within the violent President. While his sanity was in question, his underlings still followed his demands, decimating the peaceful realm as well as striking conflict on the already strained treaties.

The young price of Sanc, Milliardo Peacecraft escaped the destruction of his homeland solely by chance. If not for his mother's insistence that he send a gift to the newest member of their line, he too would be dead. His guardians had been en route to Midgar, the capital city and home of his cousin. Word had not reached his family of her death before he had departed, though an uneasy feeling plagued the young boy throughout the trek. Something just did not feel right.

Even the small kitten who had become quite taken with sitting upon his shoulder, was calm. The twitchy motions of the creature unsettled the young prince almost as much as the depressing surroundings. The ground itself seemed devoid of any sort of life, unable to feel the Lifestream, much less the soft hum of life from nature. Everything... was dead.

Shivering, the youth kept on, alert to the hesitant movements of his own guards. They too were wholly uncomfortable. It was during this journey that the young prince's life alterred more drastically than it ever could. Unaware of the screams from the planet, much less the distinct voices of his parent's when they joined the Lifestream, Milliardo was left vunerable. And that was how the SOLDIERs found him, quickly killing the adults,  and leaving him for dead. How could a boy survive with his skull crushed and body bleeding out?

The fighters had forgotten to take care of the kitten, not thinking anything of the small animal. What could it do anyhow?

That little kitten managed to find a farmer in the nearby village of Kalm, tugging the man towards where the young price lay dying. If was sheer chance that the elderly man had a cure materia on him.  With the help of the farmer, the prince began to recover, his body mending from the severity of his injuries, but when he finally regained consciousness, he was left at a loss. Not knowing who he was, much less why he wanted to throw up and cry. After several months of care from the weary farmer and his wife, the elderly couple suggested the youth join the army. All the other youths were doing it and unless he wanted to work the fields, the only way he had to move up in the world was through the ranks.

The lack of personality and spunk riled more than it should, the dour attitude of the young boy drawing too much attention. Though that could have also been due to the long platinum tresses. Too often, people mistook him for a girl, questioning his gender and how he managed to join the cadets. The first display of any sort of feeling was the day his unit was scheduled for a trip to the barber. After breaking the man's hand and taking the scissors to his throat, he received no order to have the pristine strands cut. That particular incident instilled a mild fear and curiousity in his fellow cadets, and that was something the blond never wanted. It took a great deal of pushing, prodding, and insults to rile the young man, but once he reached his breaking point....

To distract himself, he delved further into his studies, practicing long hours to perfect each move and know every answer. When it came time to translate text, he was shocked at the ease in which he progressed, having to assume he had learned those lessons before... But why would he know a dead language anyway?

It was during his tedious training sessions that he began to interact with others, more it was the others trying to interact with him. He never quite understood why Maxwell approached him one day to ask, "What's your first name Marquise?" The youth had taken the farmer's last name, but had never thought of a first. It was not necessary anywho, all the paperwork, uniform and tags required his last and an initial. Was it so strange to have not cared to have a first name? Z... "Z... Zechs..."

Why that particular syllable was uttered, he could never figure out. But that moment spawned far too many jokes and puns about Sexy Zechsie.

Progressing through the ranks into SOLDIER was not difficult, even achieving rank as General was almost too easy. It could have been his freakish work habits, or just the absent way he followed each command to a T. Every i was always dotted and t crossed when a job was given to General Marquise.

While Zechs did not consider his fellow Generals to be friends, much less that hyperactive Turk who was taken to to stalking him, if not for their efforts, he would have been discharged. A rather steady drinking habit began to form in his teenage years as the nightmares began to worsen. Each time he left Midgar, horrific dreams would take hold of his mind, instilling a terror within the fighter that could not be rivaled. While his favored alcohol could numb the mental pains, if too much of the inhibiting liquid was consumed, his judgement would become more than impaired. Beating fellow SOLDIERs and cadets due to illogical perceptions did not look good on record.

Zechs is not a happy man, his world is degrading just as the tight hold of his mind has started to fall apart. Each day is a battlefield, wether his sword and guns meet flesh or the war is entirely between himself and the ghostly memories that plague him.
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