Post by ping on Nov 28, 2007 10:36:28 GMT -5
Name:
Ping Ti Wo
Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Group:
Wanderer
Nation:
Earth Kingdom
Bender?:
No
Physical Appearance:
Ping is about five foot six in height and a good hundred eighty-three pounds. His skin is darker, a pale hazelnut in color and his muscles are defined. His hair is a dark umber brown falling well past his shoulders. His unruly curls are often pulled tightly back in a bushy ponytail held with a brown leather cord.
His face is thin with high cheek bones and a sharp pointed nose. His eyes are only slightly slanted and his irises are almond brown. He has a piercing gaze that hides a certain mystery making him look rather tempting, but almost dangerous. His lips are full, smiling most of the time. He as a pointed chin and a thin neck, but he is by no means weak looking. His muscles are defined, but not bulging.
Clothing/Armor:
His clothes are simple, he wears a celadon green sleeveless tunic with a brown leather belt about his waist and slightly darker hakama pants, over that he wears a dark forest green sleeveless coat that falls to just below his knees; the hems on the tunic are simply, nothing fancy and the hem of the pant is… well not hemmed, they were at one point but when the thread brok he never fixed it so the bottom of his pants are a little rag-tag. It has three wooden toggles on the left side to button it up, but it is more often than not left open. He wears rugged thick brown leather boots that are mostly covered by his pants; over his boots he wears leather greaves with thin scales of metal on the front. He wears long dark brown cotton fingerless gloves with leather on the palm for grip and dark green vambraces that buckle under his forearms. A brown leather tie forms almost a collar around his neck; this is his only form of jewelry.
Weapons:
A Yatagan sword is his main weapon; The sword is a rather complicated one it is bent forward from the hilt, but it tilts the other way toward the tip. It has a single sharp edge made of hard metal while the smooth back is made of a softer steel that displays delicate art from the tip to the hilt. The guard is hardly a guard at all, merely a soft rounded area before the hilt that is no wider than his forefinger (about 2.5 in.). The hilt itself is made of carved bone and curves slightly at the end to help his grip.. The curved sword has a special scabbard made of bamboo with a few notches near the top to grip the leather cord that ties it to his belt. The scabbard has paintings in black ink on both sides depicting a serene mountain scene.
Beside his rather elaborate blade he carries a small foot long dagger in a sheath hidden by his overcoat and attached to his belt in the back. It is a rather plain dagger in comparison, with a guard like his sword and a hilt of the same kind of bone, but with a straight double blade.
Personality:
Ping is a bit of an egomaniac; he is all about what’s best for him and him alone, he never does anything for nothing, everything has a price. He is pretty sarcastic and could very easily claim the title “Mr. Obvious” as he constantly points out what is rather apparent. He is social, talking to any one and everyone. He believes he has absolutely no shortcomings, it something goes wrong it is far from his fault. He is a womanizer, believing himself to be gods gift to the female race and though he is petulant and rather annoying he is supportive. Every once an a great while he can say something deep and meaningful, something to raise your spirits… or course its usually followed by something ridiculously stupid that completely takes away from the moment.
He isn’t on to anger easily, he likes to be cool, nonchalant, a fight is merely a way of showing off. It’s hard to tell if he’s actually happy or if his boastful behavior his simple his way of denying his own self loathing which hides deep beneath the surface.
Though Ping looks like a puddle, acts like a puddle and smells like a puddle he his actually a sink hole. He hates talking about the past, he would rather remain an egotistical mystery than divulge in what has gone by.
He doesn’t cry or at least he hasn’t in the past several years, he is not that emotional. He seems to be upbeat and content, but a step inside of what he’s really hiding would take one under in seconds and drown them.
Background:
Ping Ti Wo was born in the Earth Kingdom, in one of the small villages throughout the great land. His mother died at his birth, he was her first and only child, and his father was a mystery; Supposedly he was an Earth Kingdom soldier who went MIA only months before the boys arrival. He was raised by the village smithy, a man by the name of Sinwa Ti Wo. Sinwa was a large man, strong; he was Ping mothers only living relative, her uncle and so he took it upon himself to see that the boy grew up big and strong. Sinwa was not married, but most of the local women who had befriended Kei, Pings mother, helped him raise Ping through infancy and a small portion of his childhood. As a toddler Ping seemed rather attached to Mieko, one of Kei’s dearest friends and the wife of the man who ran the local tavern. She was unable to have children of her own and as one of the few grown women in the village with no children she had a little extra time to give all her attention to Ping. Though he was still close to Mieko as he grew older he sought the teachings and companionship of his uncle more and more, yearning for the strong male role model that he could look up to and follow. At the age of seven he was already doing small things around the workshop; cleaning up scraps of metal, washing and oiling tools. He was growing stronger by the day, but he was a bit secluded. When he wasn’t working he stayed by himself, the other children and mothers tried to get him to join in games and such, but he felt no inclination to participate. As he grew he seemed more and more bitter, no one ever really understood why.
At age ten Sinwa forced Ping to practice sword. Sinwa insisted that it was a down right embarrassment for him to have a nephew who didn’t know swordsmanship.
He practiced with his Sinwa for an hour a day after work, he used a blunt wooden sword to fight and he seemed to have a natural talent for the sport. He was less stressed through the rest of the day; he began joining in with the other children, showing off his skill as he got better with the blade. The mothers figured he had just needed something to feel special about and though that was some of it he told Sinwa everything one day after a particularly intense practice. He was only fourteen when he told Sinwa what had always been bothering him; he believed that his mother had died because he had killed her, that even as a child he had unintentionally murdered his own mother and that he was marked from the very beginning. He feared that when his father returned, if he returned, that he would hate Ping because of what he had done. He told his uncle that he loved sword play because he hoped his father would be proud of it, that with such a skill he would be forgiven for his awful deed.
Sinwa comforted Ping, told him his father would indeed be proud of Pings skills and that he was not to blame for his mothers death, the boy didn’t really believe that, but once again he stuffed his feelings deep down inside and put on the most convincing mask he could. He became rather careless, shameless, irresponsible, and an all around teen.
When he wasn’t working or practicing Ping helped Mieko at the Tavern; he would clean tables, sweep the floor, do dishes on occasion. He liked working with Mieko and her husband, Juyo, would sometimes pay him a few coins for his work.
As far as education went it was rather strictly on metal work. He learned to read a little and some writing, but nothing too extensive, reading and writing were something left to the higher class who had the time to spend on such things. His uncle was very insistent on teaching him math so he could one day run the shop and though he caught on quick it never held any passion for him.
Girls were another story, as he grew older, like most boys, finding a girl became a rather instinctive drive. He flirted shamelessly with the town girls and the female travelers that would come into the Tavern, but he always had a kind of crass way about him making him more or less unromantic and hardly the apple of any ones eye.
On his sixteenth birthday Sinwa gave him a sword, the Yatagan. It was a finely crafted weapon like Ping had never seen. It was light, but sturdy and he treasured it. He carved his wooden practice sword into a replica of his gift to practice. Sinwa had stopped practicing with him everyday, instead giving him quick instructions for a day and letting him go; on occasion they still spared. He found the wooden replica much harder to use than the straight sword he was used too. The balance was different and the aim had to be more precise. He elongated his practices from an hour a day to anywhere between two and five hours. He still made time for fun, but when he trained he was all serious, he often imagined impossible situations as he practiced, giving himself false opponents. His favorite practice fantasy was fighting the Fire Lord he had heard so much about around town. He had never meet anyone from the Fire Nation, but he often boosted that he could take down anyone of them.
As the years went on he became quite skilled with the Yatagan and by the age of eighteen he was ready to hit the road. He couldn’t imagine himself stuck as his uncles Smithy hand in the small town for the rest of his life. Ping had always had an active imagination and he wanted to wander the Earth Kingdom, see other lands, meet new people; he wanted adventure, excitement, and danger. He wanted to find the greatest challenges and beat them to a pulp. So with a fond farewell between him and several of the towns people he left his small village hoping he would never stumble acrossed it again. It felt liberating to be away from the town, entering a world where no one knew him, no one knew his thoughts, his nature, his life; he was a new man with a new start.
He began his journey and he has traveled nearly half the Earth Kingdom hiring out his sword to villages and nobility as a guide and guard; soon after leaving the village and with his first earnings from his new “job” he purchased himself a ostrich horse named Chiyo. He has made his living as a Hired Sword, moving from town to town, never staying in one place for more than a month and never letting any one see through his mask. For nine years he has done more than most, fighting platypus bears, fending off thieves and occasional sabotaging small Fire Nation encampments.
Sample RP:
Ping sat at the bar in a small local inn, He sipped from his mug of warm ale as he waited for his food. The inn was far from full, most of its occupants having either gone up to bed hours ago or gone home. It was near the middle of the night and he was still wide awake since he had slept away the better half of the daylight. The inn smell of beer and burnt food for the most part with the scent of the burning wood in the corner fireplace smothering the smell of the wood that made up the better half of the inn. The place seemed in pretty good shape, the tables and counters were clean and floor was swept.
“He’e you a’e, sir, you’e eggs an’ ‘am,” the bartender, the only visible person working in the establishment, set down a green clay plate with his food in front of him. The man was a little hard to understand with his very country accent, but Kon knew what he ordered and everything seemed to be there.
“Thank you, sir,” he said as he picked up a fork carved of wood and slowly hacked at his eggs, cutting them into bit size pieces. The man walked away and Ping ate silently, enjoying the food for what it was even though it wasn’t so great; the ham was burnt in places and fairly dry while the eggs were still runny and bland. He washed the meal down with the last of his drink and wiped his mouth on the wrist of his cotton glove.
“’ave a goo’ nigh’, sir,” the bartender said, looking up from wiping the counter to give him a nod. Ping gave him a silent nod back before he turned to the door and left into the dark streets.
He wandered the small village aimlessly, looking at the dark houses and the empty vending stalls, he wasn’t very fond of night, it was too inactive. He preferred the day when everyone was moving about, there was so much to watch and so many people to meet, it made him wish he hadn’t slept so late.
The sun slowly rose over distant mountains, casting its bright glow over the fields that surrounded the village and casting long shadows behind the houses. Returning to the inn; going to the stables and retrieving Chiyo, who stood by him as he sat on the steps and watched as the town slowly woke into its natural routine. The men were the fist out of the homes, several heading in groups off to the fields while some set up the stalls for market which the women would soon purchase things from. Children went with books under their arm to the small school house on the far end of the town, darting through alleyways to find shortcuts as they raced their friends.
“Our times up here,” he said to the bird horse next to him, as he stood. The animal softly squawked in reply and Kon pet his head before heading upstairs to pack his things.
Ping Ti Wo
Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Group:
Wanderer
Nation:
Earth Kingdom
Bender?:
No
Physical Appearance:
Ping is about five foot six in height and a good hundred eighty-three pounds. His skin is darker, a pale hazelnut in color and his muscles are defined. His hair is a dark umber brown falling well past his shoulders. His unruly curls are often pulled tightly back in a bushy ponytail held with a brown leather cord.
His face is thin with high cheek bones and a sharp pointed nose. His eyes are only slightly slanted and his irises are almond brown. He has a piercing gaze that hides a certain mystery making him look rather tempting, but almost dangerous. His lips are full, smiling most of the time. He as a pointed chin and a thin neck, but he is by no means weak looking. His muscles are defined, but not bulging.
Clothing/Armor:
His clothes are simple, he wears a celadon green sleeveless tunic with a brown leather belt about his waist and slightly darker hakama pants, over that he wears a dark forest green sleeveless coat that falls to just below his knees; the hems on the tunic are simply, nothing fancy and the hem of the pant is… well not hemmed, they were at one point but when the thread brok he never fixed it so the bottom of his pants are a little rag-tag. It has three wooden toggles on the left side to button it up, but it is more often than not left open. He wears rugged thick brown leather boots that are mostly covered by his pants; over his boots he wears leather greaves with thin scales of metal on the front. He wears long dark brown cotton fingerless gloves with leather on the palm for grip and dark green vambraces that buckle under his forearms. A brown leather tie forms almost a collar around his neck; this is his only form of jewelry.
Weapons:
A Yatagan sword is his main weapon; The sword is a rather complicated one it is bent forward from the hilt, but it tilts the other way toward the tip. It has a single sharp edge made of hard metal while the smooth back is made of a softer steel that displays delicate art from the tip to the hilt. The guard is hardly a guard at all, merely a soft rounded area before the hilt that is no wider than his forefinger (about 2.5 in.). The hilt itself is made of carved bone and curves slightly at the end to help his grip.. The curved sword has a special scabbard made of bamboo with a few notches near the top to grip the leather cord that ties it to his belt. The scabbard has paintings in black ink on both sides depicting a serene mountain scene.
Beside his rather elaborate blade he carries a small foot long dagger in a sheath hidden by his overcoat and attached to his belt in the back. It is a rather plain dagger in comparison, with a guard like his sword and a hilt of the same kind of bone, but with a straight double blade.
Personality:
Ping is a bit of an egomaniac; he is all about what’s best for him and him alone, he never does anything for nothing, everything has a price. He is pretty sarcastic and could very easily claim the title “Mr. Obvious” as he constantly points out what is rather apparent. He is social, talking to any one and everyone. He believes he has absolutely no shortcomings, it something goes wrong it is far from his fault. He is a womanizer, believing himself to be gods gift to the female race and though he is petulant and rather annoying he is supportive. Every once an a great while he can say something deep and meaningful, something to raise your spirits… or course its usually followed by something ridiculously stupid that completely takes away from the moment.
He isn’t on to anger easily, he likes to be cool, nonchalant, a fight is merely a way of showing off. It’s hard to tell if he’s actually happy or if his boastful behavior his simple his way of denying his own self loathing which hides deep beneath the surface.
Though Ping looks like a puddle, acts like a puddle and smells like a puddle he his actually a sink hole. He hates talking about the past, he would rather remain an egotistical mystery than divulge in what has gone by.
He doesn’t cry or at least he hasn’t in the past several years, he is not that emotional. He seems to be upbeat and content, but a step inside of what he’s really hiding would take one under in seconds and drown them.
Background:
Ping Ti Wo was born in the Earth Kingdom, in one of the small villages throughout the great land. His mother died at his birth, he was her first and only child, and his father was a mystery; Supposedly he was an Earth Kingdom soldier who went MIA only months before the boys arrival. He was raised by the village smithy, a man by the name of Sinwa Ti Wo. Sinwa was a large man, strong; he was Ping mothers only living relative, her uncle and so he took it upon himself to see that the boy grew up big and strong. Sinwa was not married, but most of the local women who had befriended Kei, Pings mother, helped him raise Ping through infancy and a small portion of his childhood. As a toddler Ping seemed rather attached to Mieko, one of Kei’s dearest friends and the wife of the man who ran the local tavern. She was unable to have children of her own and as one of the few grown women in the village with no children she had a little extra time to give all her attention to Ping. Though he was still close to Mieko as he grew older he sought the teachings and companionship of his uncle more and more, yearning for the strong male role model that he could look up to and follow. At the age of seven he was already doing small things around the workshop; cleaning up scraps of metal, washing and oiling tools. He was growing stronger by the day, but he was a bit secluded. When he wasn’t working he stayed by himself, the other children and mothers tried to get him to join in games and such, but he felt no inclination to participate. As he grew he seemed more and more bitter, no one ever really understood why.
At age ten Sinwa forced Ping to practice sword. Sinwa insisted that it was a down right embarrassment for him to have a nephew who didn’t know swordsmanship.
He practiced with his Sinwa for an hour a day after work, he used a blunt wooden sword to fight and he seemed to have a natural talent for the sport. He was less stressed through the rest of the day; he began joining in with the other children, showing off his skill as he got better with the blade. The mothers figured he had just needed something to feel special about and though that was some of it he told Sinwa everything one day after a particularly intense practice. He was only fourteen when he told Sinwa what had always been bothering him; he believed that his mother had died because he had killed her, that even as a child he had unintentionally murdered his own mother and that he was marked from the very beginning. He feared that when his father returned, if he returned, that he would hate Ping because of what he had done. He told his uncle that he loved sword play because he hoped his father would be proud of it, that with such a skill he would be forgiven for his awful deed.
Sinwa comforted Ping, told him his father would indeed be proud of Pings skills and that he was not to blame for his mothers death, the boy didn’t really believe that, but once again he stuffed his feelings deep down inside and put on the most convincing mask he could. He became rather careless, shameless, irresponsible, and an all around teen.
When he wasn’t working or practicing Ping helped Mieko at the Tavern; he would clean tables, sweep the floor, do dishes on occasion. He liked working with Mieko and her husband, Juyo, would sometimes pay him a few coins for his work.
As far as education went it was rather strictly on metal work. He learned to read a little and some writing, but nothing too extensive, reading and writing were something left to the higher class who had the time to spend on such things. His uncle was very insistent on teaching him math so he could one day run the shop and though he caught on quick it never held any passion for him.
Girls were another story, as he grew older, like most boys, finding a girl became a rather instinctive drive. He flirted shamelessly with the town girls and the female travelers that would come into the Tavern, but he always had a kind of crass way about him making him more or less unromantic and hardly the apple of any ones eye.
On his sixteenth birthday Sinwa gave him a sword, the Yatagan. It was a finely crafted weapon like Ping had never seen. It was light, but sturdy and he treasured it. He carved his wooden practice sword into a replica of his gift to practice. Sinwa had stopped practicing with him everyday, instead giving him quick instructions for a day and letting him go; on occasion they still spared. He found the wooden replica much harder to use than the straight sword he was used too. The balance was different and the aim had to be more precise. He elongated his practices from an hour a day to anywhere between two and five hours. He still made time for fun, but when he trained he was all serious, he often imagined impossible situations as he practiced, giving himself false opponents. His favorite practice fantasy was fighting the Fire Lord he had heard so much about around town. He had never meet anyone from the Fire Nation, but he often boosted that he could take down anyone of them.
As the years went on he became quite skilled with the Yatagan and by the age of eighteen he was ready to hit the road. He couldn’t imagine himself stuck as his uncles Smithy hand in the small town for the rest of his life. Ping had always had an active imagination and he wanted to wander the Earth Kingdom, see other lands, meet new people; he wanted adventure, excitement, and danger. He wanted to find the greatest challenges and beat them to a pulp. So with a fond farewell between him and several of the towns people he left his small village hoping he would never stumble acrossed it again. It felt liberating to be away from the town, entering a world where no one knew him, no one knew his thoughts, his nature, his life; he was a new man with a new start.
He began his journey and he has traveled nearly half the Earth Kingdom hiring out his sword to villages and nobility as a guide and guard; soon after leaving the village and with his first earnings from his new “job” he purchased himself a ostrich horse named Chiyo. He has made his living as a Hired Sword, moving from town to town, never staying in one place for more than a month and never letting any one see through his mask. For nine years he has done more than most, fighting platypus bears, fending off thieves and occasional sabotaging small Fire Nation encampments.
Sample RP:
Ping sat at the bar in a small local inn, He sipped from his mug of warm ale as he waited for his food. The inn was far from full, most of its occupants having either gone up to bed hours ago or gone home. It was near the middle of the night and he was still wide awake since he had slept away the better half of the daylight. The inn smell of beer and burnt food for the most part with the scent of the burning wood in the corner fireplace smothering the smell of the wood that made up the better half of the inn. The place seemed in pretty good shape, the tables and counters were clean and floor was swept.
“He’e you a’e, sir, you’e eggs an’ ‘am,” the bartender, the only visible person working in the establishment, set down a green clay plate with his food in front of him. The man was a little hard to understand with his very country accent, but Kon knew what he ordered and everything seemed to be there.
“Thank you, sir,” he said as he picked up a fork carved of wood and slowly hacked at his eggs, cutting them into bit size pieces. The man walked away and Ping ate silently, enjoying the food for what it was even though it wasn’t so great; the ham was burnt in places and fairly dry while the eggs were still runny and bland. He washed the meal down with the last of his drink and wiped his mouth on the wrist of his cotton glove.
“’ave a goo’ nigh’, sir,” the bartender said, looking up from wiping the counter to give him a nod. Ping gave him a silent nod back before he turned to the door and left into the dark streets.
He wandered the small village aimlessly, looking at the dark houses and the empty vending stalls, he wasn’t very fond of night, it was too inactive. He preferred the day when everyone was moving about, there was so much to watch and so many people to meet, it made him wish he hadn’t slept so late.
The sun slowly rose over distant mountains, casting its bright glow over the fields that surrounded the village and casting long shadows behind the houses. Returning to the inn; going to the stables and retrieving Chiyo, who stood by him as he sat on the steps and watched as the town slowly woke into its natural routine. The men were the fist out of the homes, several heading in groups off to the fields while some set up the stalls for market which the women would soon purchase things from. Children went with books under their arm to the small school house on the far end of the town, darting through alleyways to find shortcuts as they raced their friends.
“Our times up here,” he said to the bird horse next to him, as he stood. The animal softly squawked in reply and Kon pet his head before heading upstairs to pack his things.
