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[Harvested][Accepted]Hayden Irons; [Harvested]
Topic Started: Apr 25 2017, 06:30 AM (236 Views)
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Account Name: kanna

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Name: Hayden Irons [Formerly Ashur]Nickname: 'Den
Age: 19Gender: Male
Height: 6'2", 188 cm Weight: 161 lbs, 73 kg
Faction: Not AvailableClass: Squire
Affiliation: Chaotic Good [Light]Blood type: A-
Birthday: April 15Zodiac: Aries
Occupation: Professional Ladies' Man / Fish MarketerFont color: Red
Eyes: Golden Hazel [Naturally Red]Hair: Black
Race: Genetically Enhanced Human Dexterity: Ambidextrous

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Physical Description:
Standing at 6’2”, Hayden is a handsome man in terms of physical beauty and sports a taut and masculine physique. He’s rippled with muscles from time spent playing sports, athletic training, as well as tanned from going shirtless most of the time. Buff yet lean, Hayden has a great body and strays from overeating or indulging in sweets, or even consuming alcohol, to keep his figure the way he wants it. His hair is raven black in color and spiked on most of his head from a poor job of cutting himself – he’s too cheap to have some fancy barber or hair-stylist to cut his hair – and has a natural part on the left side which he keeps in the form of a cowlick. A few bangs cover his right face and eye, carelessly managed, but secretly likes the way it obscures his vision in the most inconvenient times. His eyes are naturally deep crimson, often colored with contacts to that of a golden hazel, and almond in shape framed by dark lashes. Hayden shaves every day, at exactly the same time, never letting himself have any sort of stubble or shadow casting over his pristine skin that’s free of blemishes or scars, much like the rest of his flesh. Everything else stays shaved as well, including his legs for sports purposes, and arms for the same reasons. Maybe he waxes, sometimes, actually, most of the time wax is used because simplicity.

In the clothing department of any store, one could easily spot Hayden trying to find something new to wear that he really can't afford. Browsing, window-shopping, that kind of thing. His ideal attire consists of a black t-shirt, sweatpants, running shoes, and a red jacket that he always carries with him whether it’s sweltering outside or a blizzard is raining down. But he changes every now and again, wearing clothing that’s not normal or would be considered eclectic, and sometimes, he wears hats though very rarely. He prefers simple items, things that aren’t too tight or too loose, but made to fit him like a glove since he likes showing off his muscles from all the hard work he puts into them. Sleeping items are necessary as he wears a pair of red shorts, made of soft cashmere-esque material, and a white tank top of cotton. Simple as always.

Hayden has very little need for accessories as his weaponry are his only choice but occasionally carries an over-the shoulder carry-on bag with a bright red logo sporting the name, Irons Arms & Armor Co. in big bold letters on the otherwise plain black bag. Normally, he’s without much other than a wallet, keys, and what little jewels his job pays.

Nothing significant to be mentioned.


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To some people, Hayden might seem arrogant, cocky, overly zealous, even opinionated, but the truth is, he’s a mere jokester, a person that enjoys laughter, friendship, and people that want nothing from him except his company. His heart is deep and he loves hard, cares for animals as if they were humans, and truly treats everyone as an equal. Coming from a broken home, Hayden understands the values of sacrifice, honor, and dignity but in the same instance, he knows what pain, suffering, and sorrow feels like. He feels as if people shouldn’t have to endure life’s hardships alone, not like him, and finds the humor in the most dire of situations. Hayden oozes self-confidence as he’s quite sure of himself yet knows the meaning of humility though he rarely ever shows himself being humiliated since he knows no shame. His desire is to be heroic, to show the world what he’s made of, that he’s not to be obedient to anyone’s personal whims or secret provocations. A passionate man if nothing else, Hayden will be the light in this world of darkness and isn’t afraid to take risks, especially when he feels as if it will do more good than bad.

  • Cats.
  • Women.
  • Routines.
  • Sports.
  • Guns.
  • Avoiding responsibilites.
  • Piano.
  • Laughing.
  • Children.
  • Chocolate.
  • Coffee.


  • Dogs.
  • Men.
  • Chaotic schedules.
  • ...opposite of sports?
  • Knives.
  • Having responsibilities.
  • Violin.
  • Crying.
  • Adults that are adulty.
  • Vanilla.
  • Decaf coffee.

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[tabs][tab=Introduction]“Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There's magic in that. It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift. Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy. Do not forget that... there are many kinds of magic, after all.”[/tab][tab=Pre-creation history]Posted Image
You see that boy? That happy lil’ shit, just carefree and full of life. Yeah, that was me during the happiest time of my childhood. Little did I know about how that would change in only a few days after that picture was taken. I remember it like it was yesterday – just eight years old, overwhelmed with bliss, and unmistakably blessed with a remarkable friendship; in other words, I was fucking truly happy. My family had money, I had friends, my heart was still fully intact, and the most important person in my life was still by side: Henry. Henry was, or still is, my twin brother and man, did I love that little squirt with every fiber of my being. Looking back, I wish I would have fought harder for him to stick around but I wasn’t gifted like him and my parents knew that I’d have to be protected a lot longer than him. That’s what they told me, anyways.

You see, if we’re gonna do this right, might as well begin with who exactly my family is. Today, I don’t use their name because fuck them, that’s why. Nothin’ but a bunch o’ psychos, twisted perverts, and general do-badders ‘cause they sure as hell aren’t do-gooders. That’s irrelevant since I’m bias but it wasn’t all bad, not like it was for the girls, and I can remember the few I met were so beautiful yet damaged in some manner. Like, they were different from the boys, I guess is the best way to explain it. Henry and I didn’t have a sister so really, I can’t say what happened to them but they were jacked, in a serious kind of way. All of us boys looked the same at our base – black hair, red eyes; the girls were the opposite with white hair and blue eyes. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized just how terrible this family was and how thankful I became that Henry got out long before I did. He was a kind soul. Don’t really think he could have managed but then again, he was exceptionally strong and probably could have pulled through. I keep getting off track here, sorry ‘bout that.

So, where was I? Oh, right, how it wasn’t all bad. My parents were somewhat alright, as in they weren’t outright cruel to me and Henry, allowing us to do normal things that boys did, and since Henry was capable of using magic at a stupid young age – how I didn’t end up with magic is beyond me but whatever. I could take that brat any day. He was honed, groomed, or what have you, and adopted out to another family that wasn’t ours. Couldn’t imagine just how much money those people had to shell out for my brother but they did, so I guess he was worth it. Wish they would’ve taken me as well. I really missed him when he left. Like, it devastated me and there were nights where I could swear he was telling me that everything was okay, that he wasn’t dealing with the hell that was coming down on me. I couldn’t let him go through what I endured, not for my brother, not for my best friend. I wouldn’t have let him. Period.

After Henry left, I was given fake friends which means my cousins would come to play and bullshit with me so I wouldn’t be lonely. But damn, I was alone. I really had no one; my heart was broken, my laughter wasn’t the same, my soul had lost a piece of itself. He was mine to protect and I had failed him which did nothing but shatter what little heart had survived. I became distant from everyone else, falling into a depression where I would spend hours and hours playing the piano to soothe the hole in my chest. Tell anyone, I’ll kill you, seriously. Like, this is not for public record, just lettin’ you know what I did to not commit suicide at nine years old, kay? So, just keep this information to yourself. I’m a badass, keep that in mind. I taught myself several classical songs in hopes that Henry could hear them and feel as if he weren’t alone either because I knew that he must have felt some kind of hurt when we separated. I know I did. By the way, Moonlight Sonata and fur Elise are my favorites, no doubt. (Also, my writer is too lazy to properly fix the accented ‘u’ so don’t judge.)

The day Henry left did something to my head. In a mental way, I wasn’t hit or anything, but I wish I had been so I couldn’t remember. It was like he was a present, all dressed nicely and pretty for them to take him, and when they did, I asked if he would ever come back or if I could go with him. Both answers were the same, “No, Hayden, he will not and you cannot.” Those words were imbedded and burned into my memory; over and over again, I’d repeat them to myself and constantly ask myself why. It hurt to be separated from someone you’d known since birth, grew up with, it just flat out sucked. I’m tryin’ to be manly about this, gimme a minute. (Off-screen coughs and muffled sobs.) So, like I said before, I played piano and when I got really good at it, my father told me that I shouldn’t waste my time with something so pathetic; that I was a man and should do manly things like hunt, kill, pillage, rob, whatever bad shit men do and frankly, I wasn’t into all that.

Until he introduced me to firearms.

Yo, I don’t know if anyone else has ever used guns but man, it’s a rush like no other and I felt something ignite inside my soul unlike anything I’d ever known. I suppose it was like having adrenaline pumping through your veins but I’m not a scientist or a doctor, so that may have very well what it’d of been. Just adrenaline, knowing I could just shoot that motherfucker in the head and never lay eyes on him again. I’d been able to leave and find Henry, live happily with him, but no, couldn’t do that with shit he made me practice with. Man must’ve been smarter than I gave him credit for. Bastard. You can assume that we didn’t really get along but I’m pretty sure you figured that out. My mother, however, that woman could have beat the ever-loving hell out of me and I still wouldn’t have laid a single finger on her. She doted on me, spoiled me, actually loved me, and to this day, I’m still thankful for everything she taught me about what it meant to really be a man. I was to love passionately, be kind to even the asshole-ish of assholes, treat everyone as if they were my best friend, have no enemies, eat well and live happily. My mother was my world apart from Henry.

Now, this is where shit starts to get really fucked up. Around the time I was eleven, maybe even twelve, those years kinda blur together, so I can’t be one-hundred percent accurate. Apparently, in my family, husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, are not allowed to mix with other houses in order to protect the bloodlines. Don’t know what it means, don’t really care, point is, no fucking around on your spouse. Point blank. Well, my father, the piece of shit of a man, actually messed around with the wife of house K – still don’t know, still don’t care once again. But it didn’t just happen once or twice, but several times, and this all happened before I was born so it really didn’t involve me yet it did when my mother found out. The Ashur Massacre, Jesus fuck , that was some kind of nightmare that took place like, a year or so before this incident and House K’s psycho daughter did it. Don’t give a shit what anyone says; the bitch is nuts and a total lunatic, so on my list of ‘fuck yous’, she’s on there. Lock down everywhere. I wasn’t allowed to leave, my parents weren’t allowed to leave, and when you get two people who absolutely hate one another in a room together, for an extended period of time, lies are exposed, feelings are hurt, and shit goes down.

My mother attempted to poison my father but was unsuccessful and you guessed it, found out by one of the servants that was secretly screwing my sperm-donor. All hell broke loose. Enraged, he straight up slaughtered my mother in front of me. Right. In. Front. Of. Me. I was minding my business, eating my soup, not worried about anything other than the glorious food I was eating. You ever see someone get murdered with a spoon and fork? It’s not pretty, I assure you. There was a built up rage I’d never seen in him, like he was angry at everyone in the world, and I couldn’t do anything to protect the woman who had been my light in the darkness. I could only watch in horror, just stare at the scene unfolding in front of me, on our dining table, just repetitive stabs, jabs, and curses as she lay bleeding out, reaching out for someone to help her. Terrified and really in catatonic shock, I was scared to do anything, too weak to help her like my brother, but in a moment of clarity, I snapped.

I ran, ran as fast as my body could carry me, to the nearest place I knew where I gun was stashed – a real gun, with real bullets, and real intention to kill deep in my heart. I loaded like an expert, someone who knew just what they were doing, then returned to the horrifying scene of my father leaning over my mother’s lifeless body, scolding her for disobeying him and speaking of things that couldn’t be helped. Like a man, I walked straight up to him from behind, put the barrel of the gun to the back of his head, and pulled the trigger. It happened in a flash of wild emotions and after he slumped to the lay over mother’s chest, I realized what I had done. I wasn’t any better of a person or man, for that matter, than the bastard I’d just murdered. For a split second, I thought of taking my own life, but nah, I wasn’t going to do that because I deserved to live for my mother’s sake. To make her happy. To find Henry. To be a better man. This wasn’t who I was… I wasn’t a murderer, I wasn’t a sadistic fuck that did what was expected, I was simple, I wanted to laugh, not cry; I wanted to feel, not be numb.

So, my sadism appeared and I burnt the house down. Apparently, I really, really, really like fires. Pyromaniac, for sure, right here, in the flesh and blood. I like burning things, big deal. But just to clarify, before I burnt the house down, I made sure to give my mother a proper burial in the grounds behind the house. My father, yeah, I let that sunavabitch burn like the trash he was. In a way, kind of wished he was still alive but whatever, his body still burned while I watched from afar and pretended that he was screaming like my mother did. Still can’t get that vision out of my head nor the sounds. After everything was said and done, I was orphaned but my justice had been served and since I was relatively young, they wanted me to move in with the psycho of House K so she would have a friend. Um, no. Actually, fuck no. I was perfectly fine doing life on my own and I sure as hell didn’t need to grow up with that crazy little girl. Nope, a whole lotta nope. I guess they felt some kind of mercy on me and let me stay with House N which wasn’t exactly too much of a step above House K but at least they weren’t as psychotic. A little off in the head but really, aren’t we all in some way?

For some odd years, I lived with them. Lot of death, lot of bad shit, lot of everything I didn’t like. I secluded myself for those years, playing piano in my loneliness, several nights of crying in loneliness, and just downright loneliness. The others wanted to play, but I didn’t, I didn’t want no part of their sadistic games of who can kill who first or mutually kill one another. I was good with myself and already had a guilt of what I’d done weighing heavily on my shoulders. The day I turned sixteen, I left, and when I say I left, I mean, I burnt the house down and killed everyone inside. House N doesn’t exist anymore because of me. Am I proud of it? Not really, but in a sense, I am since those demon children will never grow up; they won’t hurt anyone, they won’t kill for fun, they are just gone. Since I was on an apparent pyro spree, I had the thought of just burning all the houses down, especially House K, but my better judgment told me not to. I had to keep telling myself that I was better than them and needed to simply get away from this chaos. And that’s exactly what I did.

The little money I did have, I bought myself an apartment, some shitty furniture, got an even shittier job, and made a way for myself. For the first time, I felt like I was doing something with the life I’d been blessed with and every day, I went to work as a fish marketer, making an honest living, and keeping to myself so I could one day find my brother. My obsession with guns never left me and when I got my job, I made sure to change my last name which happened to be Irons, the manufacturer of my favorite guns and general weaponry. Coincidence, I think not. Luckily for me, I made enough money so I could buy a crappy piano to put in my apartment and because of my heritage, I attempted to change my appearance by purchasing contacts to make my eyes golden hazel instead of that bloody red. Sometimes I forget, sometimes I just don’t care, but most of the time, it’s hard to catch me without them in ‘cause I hate who I was born as and for three years, I began coming into my own person, not someone another person wanted me to be. Got a black cat too, his name's Neko, and a total baller.

This is my story, this is who I was and who I came to be, I can’t change the things I did and I don’t want to. For now, I recently applied to the Academy to become a Knight of Fiore, to be one of the good guys that can make a change, that are brave and the embodiment of what it is to be a man. They are the true heroes of this story and one day, I’ll stand among them as a hero, as a man who overcame obstacles and turned his life around for the better. That’s my dream.

[/tab][tab=Recent history]N/A, to be filled as time goes on.[/tab][/tabs]

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Power: 11
Endurance: 11
Toughness: 11
Speed: 11
Accuracy: 19
Comprehensive Total: 63/93

Stat Points Earned: 30/38
Arc Points Earned: 0/0
Jewels Earned: 7,550,000/7,550,000

[tabs][tab=Sources]Character Creation 100,000 Jewels
[tab=Threads]The Golden Door [1 SP / 230k]

Think of the Children! [1SP / 220k]
[tab=Events]April Side Event 8 SP

FTG 8th Birthday Appreciation [10 SP / 5 mil]

Holiday Event 2017 [12 SP]

Valentine's Event 2018 [6 SP / 2 mil]
Edited by Mango, Feb 11 2018, 03:53 AM.
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Complete Trash

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Just Hanging Around

Need a listed amount for the ammo in your item section. Other than that, looks pretty good.
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Complete Trash

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That is far too much ammo to start with. you get 5 items to start, and each 'clip/magazine' counts as 1. so you would have 1 each.
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After my poking, things seem fine. Take the 1/2

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Inara Serra
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Honesty without tact is cruelty.

Bless this Knight. And all Knights I've ever needed to approve.

Your character application is now accepted and will be placed in the archived forum. This topic has now been resolved, so therefore its closed.

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^ Mood.

This character has been harvested and is thus considered gone.

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