Park Su-mi

Lifted off the old forum.

Name: Dirk Faust
Age: Mid Twenties
Height: Six Foot

Description:

Dirk stands at exactly six feet in height, and although he isn't overly muscular he has the toned physique and broad shoulders of an athlete thanks to his fondness of bare knuckle boxing and wrestling. Dirk appears to be young and healthy and in his early to mid twenties in age. His skin bears a slight tan, having been spent most of his years in the warmer climate of Trinsic . His hair is jet black, soft, silky and well cut, whilst his eyes are a dark emerald green. Fausts clothes are of expensive make and well cared for. Judging by what you see, you can probably deduct that he cares for his appearance immensely.

Across his his left bicep is a sizable scar, as though someone had hacked at him with a blade.

Background:
Faust was born to a minor merchant and his wife. Supposedly. Throughout his childhood Faust was beaten and abused by his 'father', unable to comprehend why his father should act this way to him, it wasn't until he was in his early teens that he found out why he acted as he did. Late one night as he crept down to the kitchen, he heard his father, in a drunken rage, screaming at his mother. It was then Dirk discovered that the man he believed to be his father, wasn't Apparently his mother had had an affair, and he was the result.
No wonder his father hated him.
However, why did he take it out on him? It wasn't his fault.
The years following that night Dirk trained hard. Slowly over the next couple of years he built muscle mass, training his speed and strength, so that the next time his father decide to hit out at him, he would be able to defend himself against his oppressor.
The night came all to soon, again his father was drunk and again he was angry. Without warning he suddenly lashed out at Dirk, knocking him to the floor, causing blood to flow from his mouth.
Surging to his feet Dirk grabbed the closest thing to hand. A poker. This was what he had been waiting for.
He lashed out with the poker and blood sprayed everywhere...

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It had been years since the night Dirk had fled his home. Not yet thirty and he had lost everyone that he had once cared for. His mother, his friends and his "family".
Shortly after leaving his home, his new family had found him. A thieves guild. A guild of outcasts, rogues, wanderers and vagabonds. People like him. He had been happy, finally. The thieves sorely lacked the raw physical and martial strength of those that could fight, he had been welcomed with open arms.
Then the guards had come. The guildhouse was burnt to the ground, and the assorted rogues fled outside, onto the waiting spears of the guardsmen. One of the leaders, rallying several thieves about himself, Dirk included and led them out of the guildhouse, they smashed into the ranks of guardsmen, nearly all of them being cut down and butchered...then...freedom, the way was clear. The mere handful of thieves led fled into the markets, escaping.

His friends dead, captured or scattered, Dirk took to wandering.
Eventually, having guards hounding him, he retreated to the backwater village of Yew. Where he found Tybal and the Black Caste.

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MoongatesWiki, it's where the cool kids hang, tbh.
Stab our backs when you trash our halls,
Trash our banks if you got real balls!
Nazi Punks! Nazi Punks! Nazi Punks! Fuck off!