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Ye Kansu

The Healer

0 · 871 views · located in Ismir

a character in “Blood in the Sand”, as played by VindicatedPurpose

Description

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              THE BASICS
                    ▌Name ▬▬ Ye Kansu
                    ▌Alias ▬▬ Y, Healer of Ostia
                    ▌Role ▬▬ Healer
                    ▌Age ▬▬ 31
                    ▌Gender ▬▬ Male
                    ▌Race ▬▬ Human
                    ▌Orientation ▬▬ Heterosexual
                    ▌Allegiance ▬▬ himself
                    ▌Appearance ▬▬ Pale skin, brown eyes, jet black hair awash upon his head with a ponytail. Beards every other month. Preferred footwear is sandals.
                    ▌Height ▬▬ 6 ft.
                    ▌Weight ▬▬ 185 lbs.
                    ▌Markings ▬▬ none

              THE INTERESTS
                    ▌Likes ▬▬ quietness, nature, helping people, sarcasm, falling leaves
                    ▌Dislikes ▬▬ tempers, disloyalty, vanity, bad jokes, smoking
                    ▌Hobbies ▬▬ strumming untuned lyres, reading

              THE POWERS

                    ▌Fighting Style ▬▬ Not much could be said for Ye's fighting style. Though he claims to be a pacifist, Ye is an above par hand to hand combatant, learned in a few techniques. Two key tenets make up Ye's fighting philosophy. First, he refuses to fight using anything that draws blood, and second, he never plays the role of the aggressor. Initial stages of every duel or battle that he partook in follow a standard order. He allows the opponent to make the opening moves, and then he determines a path past their defenses through observation with the aim to hit their pressure points. If the enemy seems too dogged or impenetrable, Ye will sidestep battle, and if necessary, run. He does not prefer long drawn out battles as after a certain point he will no longer throw fists but merely parry or dodge incoming blows.

                    ▌The Rendering ▬▬ The Rendering is unique to Ye, and it is able to cure and heal just about anything short of resurrecting the dead. He calls his healing magic "The Rendering" because he must “render” a part of himself in the process of healing someone. This ability drains Ye's energy proportional to how long he has channeled it. This is Ye's predominant skill, and one that no one ever taught him as he came into it on his own. Unknown to Ye, his usage upon himself diminishes its effectiveness over time.
                    ▌Fragmented Fists Technique ▬▬ Not a technique passed down from some great master, the Fragmented Fists is both a misnomer and a fighting technique. It is an improvised fighting form created by Ye himself centered around various punches from uppercuts to hooks, and kicks from roundhouses to axes.
                    ▌Five Ghost Palms ▬▬ Sewa taught Ye the Five Ghost Palms, from which he extrapolated his own technique of the Fragmented Fists. While Fists focuses on fist strikes, the Palms technique centers upon palms and, to a lesser extent, wrists. The goal of this technique is to block or intercept enemy strikes with one's palms and wrists, and, unlike Fragmented Fists, it is almost impossible to use offensively.

                    ▌Footwork ▬▬ Great for fighting, also great for dancing, but definitely the greatest for running. Ye moves faster than the average person, and even moreso in combat. However, only more experienced fighters may perceive the degree of difference.
                    ▌Medical Botany ▬▬ Ye possesses extensive knowledge and understanding of various plants and herbs used in medicinal compounds and poultices.
                    ▌Cooking ▬▬ He learned to cook at a young age, and, while he does not profess to be a talented chef, his fish and tomato stew could sell out a restaurant by its own merit.
                    ▌Endurance ▬▬ Ye has lived in impoverished and ascetic conditions for much of his life. As such his body can endure much with the added benefit of his body's ability to repair itself, though not always.

              THE PERSONAL
                    ▌Pacifistic ▬▬ Ye is a pacifist, but a militant one at that. He will never like violence, but understands its necessity as a tool for peace. It is also the reason he dislikes people who resort to violence first to resolve problems. He will almost always step forward to provide a non-violent solution or compromise.
                    ▌Steadfast ▬▬ First to step forward, and last to leave. Ye will stay true to any idea or objective that he has taken as his own. Though he believes in few things, what few things he does believe in, he holds dear.
                    ▌Melancholy ▬▬ The outward veneer of reservedness and peace hides the melancholy that pervades his soul. To him, it is unexplainable, but he knows the feeling that exists within.
                    ▌Altruistic ▬▬ He seeks to help others, sometimes even at a cost to himself, so much that he may fail to perceive someone taking advantage of his good nature. His lack of self-interest stems from a lifetime of self-reliance that does not seek much in the way of material wealth.


                    ▌History ▬▬ Ye Kansu was born to two Ostian commoners, Ye Lun and Xia Daji, who lived in a poorer suburb on the edge of the city. His father, Ye Lun, worked as an apothecary. He had built a reputation for himself in the district they lived in. They called him a healer. When Ye turned six, his father passed away without explanation.

                    His mother never spoke about it, and, when asked, only said that he had met his time. That response never satisfied him. His mother abandoned the management of their family herb shop and worked as a weaver to support them. He studied what few manuals of medicine his father left behind. Ye was ever curious and hoped they held the secret as to why or how his father died. They did not. Yet, they did open his mind to the world in which his father had lived. Herbs, medicines, sicknesses, ailments, diseases, treatments, and cures.

                    When his mother discovered this, she forbade him from reading or learning anything more about medicine, but he expressed a desire to help people the way his father had done. His mother cried and never spoke again about it. At age eight, when he asked his mother whether he could go to school, his mother refused on the grounds that they were poor as only his mother provided income for his family. Ye realized that if his father had yet lived, he might have been able to go. It crushed him.

                    A group of boys found him crying in an alley and attacked him. While he was not much of a fighter, his anger demanded that he refuse to yield even as the bruises began to wear on his frame. Yet he had not noticed that his bruises faded as soon as they appeared. A man named Sewa suggested that Ye learn to defend himself if he wanted to live in a sometimes unforgiving world. When asked if he could make Ye strong, Sewa said yes. It became a temporary escape from the life he lived and the mother he pretended he never knew.

                    Everyday for nine years Ye would wake up at dawn and run straight toward his master's home to cook, clean, and wash. Sewa would teach him how to defend himself with basic techniques that anyone could have taught him. A punch here. A kick there.

                    One day at the age of sixteen he decided to confront his mother with the path he had chosen. She refused to accept this. He ran off once more. This time, he found a sick and frail woman resting in the slums. He at once thought of his mother as that woman, that one day she would become just as sick and frail. He came to the woman and offered to help her in what ways he could. Food. Water. He cared for her for days, but her condition showed no progress. Until one night, he watched as she slept in between coughs. He tried to channel the energy that Sewa spoke of that Ye remained skeptical about, but by this point he felt it necessary to give it a try.

                    He lost himself in thought, until he opened his eyes and the woman came awake and alive.

                    The next morning he ran to his mother with the revelation. She became furious and drove him from her home. He never understood why. When he returned again a few days later, she went missing. Ostian watchmen found her body on the shore. She committed suicide.

                    He remained heartbroken and confused as he staggered to Sewa to seek answers. His master told him that he already knew the answers. In that moment, he rediscovered a purpose to continue. He worked various odd jobs to save up money, and at twenty four reopened his father's apothecary. He restocked the shelves with new books on medicine and herbs that he devoted his time to studying. He felt that he had a gift, but he did not want to squander it. He felt he had to become a healer the proper way like his father.

                    Four years later at 28, Ye closed up the shop and decided to set out from Ostia into the great expanse of dry land. A sandstorm forced him to seek shelter in a canyon where he found a man on the cusp of death. Ye rushed to the man and recognized him to be Ivar Karsh and began to heal him. Within moments the man returned to consciousness and moved about on his feet with renewed vigor like a young bull. A group of militant orcs ambushed his cadre, for they had been displeased with his recent policies. He was astonished by Ye's ability, and he felt he owed Ye a great debt. In retrospect, the elevation of Ye to the position of "The Healer of Ostia" seemed a bit grandiose and far-fetched, but they paled in comparison to the large allowance that Karsh offered.

                    Ye refused. He had no interest in wealth or titles. Karsh withdrew the allowance, for obvious reasons, but he offered Ye a villa overlooking a small patch of quiet semi-arable land outside of the city. He suggested that Ye may continue to help people from there. The healer hesitated because he had sought to leave the city and the history of his life that it carried. He acquiesced, thinking that fate had set him in the place he needed to be. Since then, he has worked as The a healer of Ostia.


              PLOT WISHLIST
                    ▌▬▬
                    - Ye does not know that he is dying of an incurable disease that accelerates his aging, caused in part by the Rendering.
                    - Could be placed in a position where he must save a friend by saving an enemy.
                    - Has a penchant for reading trashy romance novels. Just waiting for someone to bust him on this.

So begins...

Ye Kansu's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ye Kansu Character Portrait: Tamsin Vassallo Character Portrait: Nestori Argyris Character Portrait: Calypso Sytille Character Portrait: Artoria Cresces Character Portrait: Rowana Calmire
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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Being on the run was a surreal experience. Never in his life would he have imagined his people would turn on him, with fire in their eyes and venom on their tongues. He replayed that day over in his head numerous times; him up on a barn roof of some old farmer with a hammer and thatch, sweaty and dirty from long hours of work.

He saw them almost immediately as they exited the city walls, a large cacophonous crowd lead by riders -- the king’s guard. At first he thought something was wrong with his father, that perhaps he had fallen ill. He remembered his heart dropping from his chest and the need to brace himself on one of the crossbeams. The prince would have walked out to meet them if it hadn’t been for the thunderous sound of hoofbeats racing from the direction of the barracks.

“My lord, my lord!” Two riders, both members of his personal guard circled the farm and beckoned him down. They were trusted friends, men he fought beside and would lay down his life for.

Judging by their tone of voice and the grey, sickly pallor they both shared, Atreus knew something was wrong.

“You must leave at once my prince!” The older male proclaimed, dismounting from his horse.

“King Nylus is dead, murdered and your brother...Prince Isador...wants you arrested!” The younger one added quickly, to which the older male jabbed in the elbow.

“A little more tact, Edmund!”

“I-I apologize sir, your highness. “ Edmund stammered, looking rather sheepish, but he continued on. “We knew you were out here, but the people they...Isador has whipped them into a frenzy, they are marching towards here now with weapons.” The young man gulped, “They think you killed the king!”

Atreus was speechless and his heart started to race, “Surely this is all some sort of bizarre misunderstanding..”

“No! My prince, Isador has labeled you a traitor. Your necklace was found on the King’s body. You must leave. Lord Sytille hurried us along, we promised him we’d see you somewhere safe.” The older man, Bair, pleaded his face somewhere between heartbreak and urgent.

“I-I don’t understand…” His hand reached for his neck, face as still as stone when he realized his most prized possession was missing.

“Take my horse, my prince. We’ve gathered some things, clothing and whatever foodstuffs were in the barracks to get you started.”

“But--”

“My lord prince, you are unsafe. We will send for you once we have a decent foothold, once we figure out what it is that Isador is plotting.”
Bair urged, catching Atreus by the crook of his arm and forcing the reins into his hand. “Go now, and don’t look back. We’ll buy you some time.

Though leaving that day was the best thing he could have done for his people and himself, Atreus still regretted it. He traveled until the sun went down, making it to a small village that had more dogs than people. He had changed his clothing and removed whatever jewelry he had on to help remain inconspicuous. The news traveled fast, and the prince would learn that his father was pushed from the tower to his death, clutching his mother’s necklace. The village people seemed a bit unbelieving that Nylus’ heir could do such a thing but a few drunkards were convinced he wanted the throne as soon as possible.

“At least Prince Isador has half a mind.” One joked, sloshing his tankard of ale in a pitiful cheers.

“That’s King Isador now, fool.” The other quipped, smacking his friend’s back heartily.

Atreus cringed at their banter, his eyes fixated on the knotted wood grain of the bar. He made up his mind then; He’d ride to Ostia.

The journey to Ostia took three days. Atreus was pleased to find that traveling went without a hitch; hardly anyone recognized him, if at all. He felt relieved to finally step foot in a country where it's people didn't despise him for one reason or another. Ostia in and of itself was relaxed and cheerful. Roughly the size of Arethusa, the city state was bustling with activity. Between the open air markets and lively people, it was a nice change of pace. However, Atreus could not enjoy what little time he had. He headed straight for the fortress where his dear friend held residence, hoping that he could get a swift audience with the man. He was not disappointed.

Ivar Karsh was an older man, having a decade or two on Atreus. They met during the war, finding that the young prince’s attitude towards battle was different and refreshing. Though he was unafraid and bold, he cared for his men even down to the grubby stable hands that tended to the horseshit. Ivar took it upon himself to give the boy a few lessons, even going so far as to gift him a scimitar of magical creation. Even when the war was over, Ivar and Atreus kept in touch. The prince never forgot Ivar’s promise of aid should he ever need it.

Atreus stood there in front of Ivar, and pleaded his case. He explained that his brother for one reason or another, had reason to believe that that he killed his own father. He explained that, during his travels Atreus came to the realization that Isador himself set him up so that he would assume the throne. Through the stories he heard, the rumors that were spread and his own general knowledge in how much Isador changed over the years, Atreus was certain Isador was direction responsible.

“I know my brother is responsible. And although I would like nothing more than to march straight back to Arethusa and confront him, I know that is not wise. I need people to fight with me, so that I can carve a path through Ismir.” Atreus spoke with conviction, his voice unwavering and confident. ”Judging by the rumors, Isador has essentially locked the country down in an attempt to find me. Getting back to the capital won’t be easy, my friend.”

Ivar rubbed at his ginger beard, keen blue eyes fixated on Atreus. He was deeply saddened to know that Nylus was dead, and he could tell that Atreus hadn’t had the time to properly grieve. There were lines etched into his skin that looped under his eyes that told stories of all the emotions that he held in. He needed help, and help he would give him.

“I’d like nothing more than to help you myself.” The burly man started, shifting his weight in his equally massive chair. “However, I have a better plan.” Ivar gestured towards his steward whom merely nodded and exited the room. “I have people -- men and women who serve me loyally. They are the most skilled agents this country has to offer, and they are yours to utilize as you see fit. You will find that they range in their abilities, with each one different than the last.” Ivar chuckled curtly, “Their personalities are rather colorful as well, but I know you will have no issue leading them. With them by your side, you can take back Ismir.” He paused for a moment, and then continued. “I will also outfit the lot you with whatever it is you need, I know you’re good for it. “ He offered Ivar a kind, gently smile. “All I ask for in return is to put your brother in his place. I cannot say that I know him very well, but by the actions he has taken already, I fear that he cannot be trusted.”

”Of course, my friend. I will make sure that no harm come to your people, and I will return them in the same condition that I found them.” Atreus joked lightly, head tilting to the side. ”I will pay you back for your kindness, and I will take Ismir back in my father's name..” With fierce determination, Atreus stepped forward to grip Ivar's shoulder, his free hand reaching for the man's to shake. From behind, he could hear footsteps.

It was time to meet his new companions.