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[gynephobe]

Player Information
Player name: Shar
Contact: plurk: Sharlayan
Are you over 18: Yep!
Characters in The Box Already: None.

Character Information
Character Name: Lon'qu.
Canon: Fire Emblem: Awakening
Canon Point: Chapter 9: Emmeryn.
Is your character Dead, Undead or Alive: Alive!
History: here!

Personality: Lon'qu is cool-headed to the point of being cold. A myrmidon by trade, Lon'qu shows incredible skill with the sword and is referred to throughout FE:A as someone who you really don't want to be on the wrong end of - but generally, people tend to assume Lon'qu is a little worse than what he actually is because of his solemn, always serious, direct and slightly standoffish nature.

His morality is at first glance dubious; he introduces himself to the group by saying "He gives orders. I stab people. I think our roles are clear." which immediately marks him as someone that isn't particularly interested in the ins and outs of events, instead just opting to get the job done, but his greyness is later expanded upon with little comments here and there, such as telling Leif (While Leif is on a tirade about right and wrong) to "shut up and prepare to get stabbed." and saying in another DLC chapter "Got a lot to gain by picking on the weak, is that it? ...Well, so do I." to an enemy.

Interestingly, Lon'qu isn't completely blackhearted. He indeed does have things that he's uncomfortable witnessing, most notably shown in Death's Embrace in his reaction dialogue when he sees murdered and reanimated warriors. He states: “Even now, my stomach turns at the sight of an innocent slain. A thousand battlefields of experience cannot still this tremor in my hands. I must destroy you...and erase this sight from my mind!” Later, in Infinite Regalia, Lon'qu's reaction dialogue at seeing a What-If scenario where the heroes of old failed their objectives and died is: “I'd rather not take my blade to one who has already paid the price in blood. But since you seek the same price from me, I must set that ideal aside.” Lon'qu isn't completely heartless. He's just morally grey - and tends to only react at the most horrific things. Generally, battles and killing people that don't quite deserve it (they're just his enemy, after all) is okay with him, under the self-justification that if he doesn't kill them, they'll kill him.

Lon'qu strives for one thing - and that's to master the sword. He's shown to be relentless with this objective in all of his support dialogues - other characters remark that they've never seen anyone so driven, and that he has no reason to try to improve any more - he's already amazing. He completely refutes that, though. Lon'qu will never stop training himself to become better, that's simply the way he is. He's driven beyond comparison, and it can be to a fault. Lon'qu is unbelievably harsh on himself, even a good level up (6-8 stats being raised, a very rare event) has him stating that it's only the start of what he can do. When placed in comparison to other characters' jubilation, and his comment when he simply cannot raise any more stats (when they're maxed) of most warriors never learning their limits, it shows that he has unreasonable expectation of himself. This is further shown in his supports with Olivia, showing the amount of self-hatred he bears for himself for being unable to mimic Basilio's sword technique. When in later supports he manages to actually do it - he clinically and calmly moves onto the next thing, making all of the grief and angst over being unable to initially do it absolutely pointless.

Lon'qu's relationship with Basilio is an interesting one. Lon'qu idolises the Khan extensively, and despite becoming Basilio's champion before he is gifted to the Shepherds, wishes to one day become good enough to challenge him. At the end of the game, his closing ending states that he indeed does, but sadly the outcome is left open ended. Every statement about Basilio that Lon'qu makes is brimming with adoration for the man's fighting prowess, and laced with self-hatred for the fact he classes himself as beneath him. It's pretty apparent to see that Basilio is Lon'qu's idol, entirely and utterly.

Lon'qu, as heavily shown in Awakening, has a single weakness. It's women, tilting toward gynephobia rather than womanizing or simply not knowing what to do around them. As a result, Lon'qu can seem much worse to females than males, telling Lissa in particular in very certain terms to "get back" when she wishes to say hello to him. With some characters, his phobia is perceived as chauvinism (when he refuses to spar with Sully/FemMU on account of her gender, he states that fighting a woman is a waste of time for him - and even while she's going full pelt, he doesn't even try and actually almost gets his head cut off) Female animals and female inanimate objects don't set off his gynephobia, and he states within the game that in a life or death situation, if a woman's trying to kill him, he can overcome his gynephobia with basic survival instinct but he's absolutely terrified of them, and suffers from a very real PTSD linked to it. Later support conversations with Tharja point out that his phobia stems from a traumatic incident in his home nation of Chron'sin. He became close to a girl named Ke'ri, whom was of a better social standing than him and snuck out to see him regularly. Unfortunately, she was murdered by attacking brigands in front of him. Lon'qu has frequent nightmares of Ke'ri's death and blames himself for it entirely - moving from Chron'sin to Regna Ferox, the warrior kingdom, in order to attempt to get stronger. Almost all of his personality is related to this event.

He can never truly be cured of his gynephobia within the game, though he does have the potential to be "trained" into showing his feelings for female characters. Others still terrify him entirely and utterly, though.

Items on your character at canon point: Killing Edge, Steel Sword, Vulnerary x3

Abilities, Strengths and Weaknesses:

Lon'qu is a Myrmidon, a class capable of extremely high speed, high accuracy, and a high capability and likelihood to deal critical damage.

Abilities:

Vantage: When activated, this skill ensures Lon'qu always attacks first.
Astra: Deals five consequtive hits at half damage.
Avoid +10: Increased chance of avoiding hits.
Swordfaire: Increases strength when using swords.


Strengths / Weaknesses:

+ A calm, focused nature.
+ Major skill in swordplay.
+ Physically powerful.

- Gynophobia.
- A cold nature which others tend to misread.
- Holds himself to unobtainable ideals.


Samples

Network/Action Spam Sample: here!

Prose Log Sample:

Another nightmare.

The myrmidon writhed within his sleeping bag, relentlessly as he was forced to relive her death. It was not the first time. Nor was it the last. Out of this week alone, this was the fifth time he'd been paralyzed by the same dream. The week before, seven. The week before that, seven.

The year before that, Three hundred and sixty five. He'd counted. Of course he'd counted. And every night, he did the same thing. He rose from his sleeping bag after shutting his eyes, wriggling from it and retrieving the sheathed killing edge from within. Of course he'd slept with his weapon. He had, ever since the nightmare had began. Then, in the darkness, he shuffled around his tent, a low groan escaping his lips once he'd found his clothing and dressed. He gathered the sleeping bag in one arm, the sheathed edge in another, and promptly exited.

The moon hung lower in the sky than usual tonight. It was almost otherworldly. His keen eyes noticed something in the distance, a tent lit from within from an oil candle. Robin. Still awake, still devising strategies. Normal. He passed that tent silently, passed another and another, finding the laundry tent close to the convoy and dumping the bag at the entrance. Then, he exited the camp, walking for perhaps half an hour silently - the edge held in both hands.

Soon enough, he reached a clearing. All around him was silent, save for the sounds of cicadas chirping somewhere in the distance. There was a pond here, the moon reflected through it. And there were moths, fluttering about silently. He took a deep breath and unsheathed the edge in his hands.

This was a fine opportunity for training.

To say the myrmidon made a single sound would be a lie. For hours and hours he worked on his form, without cease, without interruption, the blade cutting through the air as he practised stroke after stroke the only sound that was made. His bare feet made absolutely no sound upon the grass, nor the pebbles which lined the bank of the pond. He made no sound - it was like he was not even breathing. And he lasted for hours - only ceasing his practise when the sun began to rise over distant mountains, and the birds began to stir - breaking the silence.

He returned to the area of which he'd dropped the scabbard of the edge, resheathing it with a loud click. And he bowed his head, making his way back to the encampment -- the noise of the day to day drills of the army gradually increasing as he neared.