Wakamiya no Renge

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  若宮の蓮華 

Wakamiya no Renge

Renge-1.png
Gender Female.
Race Au Ra.
Clan Raen.
Citizenship Doman refugee.
Age 17.
Marital Status Taken.
Occupation Alchemist.

Former shrine maiden.

Assassin.

Poet.

Playwright and puppeteer.

Height/Weight 4'9"/109lbs.
Orientation Heterosexual.
Nameday 13th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon

Wakamiya no Renge (pronounced wah-kah-mee-yah noh rehn-geh) is a Doman refugee who fled the massacre perpetrated by the Garlean Empire during the rebellion. One of the last to escape her family's ancient shrine in the southern peaks of Doma, she came to Ul'dah and put her botanical talents to work. Renge spent her first few months under the Monetarists' rule taking any odd jobs people were willing to give her and picking pockets when hunger forced her hand. After scrimping and saving for a little over a year, she managed to open up a tiny apothecary in Pearl Lane, but an unfortunate attack on her life ruined all her hard work. Once more, she finds herself living as a nomad and traveling around Eorzea, experiencing all this new world has to offer her.

She can frequently be found carrying a large wooden box on her back; if asked, she will tell you that this box is her "patented portable puppet playhouse" and she will invite you to have a seat while she entertains you with stories both ridiculous and satirical. She is also fond of spouting poetry at the drop of a hat and her favourite rhymes tend to come in limerick form.


Basic Info

Blood Type: O.

Positive Traits for Blood Type:

Confident.
Self-determined.
Optimistic.
Strong-willed.
Intuitive.

Negative Traits for Blood Type:

Self-centered.
Cold.
Doubtful.
Unpredictable.
Workaholic.

LIKES

Rainy, cloudy days.
Music. She enjoys playing her koto.
People watching.
Silence.
Books, particularly poetry anthologies.
Games, especially mazes and riddles.
Doman plums.
Hot tea, sweetened or otherwise flavoured.
Heights.
Flying.
Stargazing.
Hair.
Sparring.
Murder.

DISLIKES

Cold weather.
Garleans.
Spiders.
Lemons.
Nosy people.
Foolish people.
The snooty attitudes of the Monetarists.
People who demand respect without first earning it.
Entitled people.
The Echo.

OTHER

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.
Vice(s): Sweets. Cakes, pies, pastries, puddings, she loves them all.
Favorite Food:
Snurbleberry Tarts
Almond Cream Croissants
Sweet Rice Cakes
Favorite Drink:
Frozen Spirits
Spiced Cider
Mulled Tea
Favorite Colour(s):
All shades of purple
silvery-grey

Appearance

WIP.

No matter how short it might turn out to be, Junki Hayashi could not deny that he was grateful to be on leave from his service in the Garlean military. Deployment for scouting missions in the Coerthas Highlands loomed in his future and he looked forward to camping in the snowy peaks as much as he might anticipate a dagger slipped between his ribs. The Ishgardian forces were not renowned for overt gestures of hospitality to foreign entities. He didn't fancy the idea of huddling in shoddy igloos erected by frostbitten hands and shivering under moth-eaten blankets while he waited to hear the lookouts' calls that announced sightings of zealous knight patrols. Only two days had passed since his release from a stint in Castrum Meridianum and he didn't think he could find the words to properly express his relief when he strode up one of the busy thoroughfares of Hingashi's major port city.

Much as he enjoyed the variety of seafood to be had from the Roegadyn chefs and their vast selections of ales, ports, and aged vintages, nothing beat the warm arms, the coy glances, and the sweet plum wines served by the oiran in Kugane. The anticipation of tumbling a pretty courtesan or two in one of the cheaper okiya practically had him skipping down the street, oblivious to the smell of sweet takoyaki and savoury okonomiyaki wafting out of the vendors' stalls.

But he needed a gift to present to his chosen courtesan in exchange for her services and the life of a low-ranking Garlean Hoplomachus was not exactly a career path guaranteed to lead to fabulous wealth. As soon as he stepped foot into the market rows, Junki had purchased the cheapest trinket he could find and he palmed the gaudy bronze brooch with its enormous fake sapphire, reassured by its minimal weight. He sucked in a deep breath, hoping that it would help to steady nerves that buzzed like a swarm of bees erupting from the apiaries of Gridania. Without payment, he wouldn't be taking a cozy roll in the sheets no matter how comely his face happened to be.

A quick brush of one hand over his crooked nose reminded him that his face might not be as lovely as it once was.

Junki strolled through the streets of the sprawling Kabukicho district, arms folded loosely over his chest beneath the wide sleeves of his haori. What a relief to wear light, breathable cotton instead of the heavy chain and plate issued to his platoon; he always felt that armor slowed him down, left him struggling under its weight like a man trying to fight his way through the sucking bogs of a dreary swamp. Though the city around him did not bustle as it had before Garlemald declared sovereignty, the Ruby Exchange was still alive with the shrill cries of merchants peddling their wares at the tops of their lungs. Childish laughter echoed down the alleyways, bright as the threads of the elaborate Thavnairian rugs hanging on their dowels, tempting customers to come and purchase the best in household luxuries. The saccharine scent of baking pastries filled the air and finally tickled his nose, and Junki closed his eyes a moment to better enjoy the heavenly odour while he feet continued moving on autopilot.

Salivating and lost in a private reverie regarding the first apple tart he'd ever tasted, he failed to notice the sudden obstruction in his path and the tall Auri warrior stumbled directly into what felt like the shortest, most fragile lamppost he'd ever encountered.

What the--? he wondered, emerald eyes popping wide open. For a brief moment, his mouth mirror the expression and he resembled one of the bowling balls in the Manderville Gold Saucer. Had he walked into a young sapling? By the kami, who would plant a sapling in the middle of the street? His clean-shaven chin tipped down and, with a ready curse springing to his lips and confusion furrowing his brows, he gazed down at the object that had tripped him up. The epithets died before they could escape his tongue.

It wasn't a pole. Wasn't a pillar. Wasn't even a tree.

It was a person.

An Auri female, to be exact, with small ivory horns that sloped toward the back of her head. Dainty as the elegant porcelain dolls sold in the finest shops of the city, she was no statuesque goddess, but her lack of height didn't detract from the grace and the self-possessed aura with which she seemed to carry herself. She peered up at him from beneath a curtain of thick hair, dark and glossy as a crow's wing and straight as a Garlean road. He guessed she stood no more than 1½ yalms high.

Junki's mouth, which had previously been drooling at the notion of tasting one of the plum pastries that tantalized his nose, suddenly went dry as the Sagolii during a drought.

Almond-shaped and slanted up at the corners, her right eye glittered silver in the sunshine like the edge of a freshly-honed blade. The left was covered by a bandage stained the rust-brown of dried blood, leading the soldier to surmise that the poor girl had been wounded and fairly recently. With a face that was wider at the forehead and narrowed steadily to a pointed little chin, she had the look of the fox spirits revered at many of the small, impromptu shrines littering the mountain paths and her white peach complexion had Junki wondering if she tasted as sweet as she appeared. A tiny mouth with full red lips curved up in a knowing, vulpine smile.

His hands dropped slowly to his sides and twitched faintly as though they itched to reach out and sample the curves he thought she must be hiding beneath the pristine white hakui and the blood red hakama.

Wait. Hakui... hakama... As Junki completed his perusal of the young woman, she brought both hands together in front of herself and bowed stiffly to him, still wearing that odd little grin that seemed to say, "I know something you don't know," in a silent sing-song. Before he could apologize for bumbling into her like a clumsy oaf or cry penance for harbouring a lustful thought for a pure creature, the miko turned her back on him and lost herself in the market crowd pushing in on them from all sides. She slipped away, graceful as a swan gliding across the waters of a lake and it was only then that the warrior noticed something felt a biiiit off.

He was a tiny bit lighter on his feet.

Opening his hands, Junki stared down at his empty palms and made a discovery that sent his heart plummeting to his toes and tied his stomach in burning knots: that damned shrine maiden was nothing more than a common thief and she'd stolen his brooch!


Biography

1560

Childhood
When asked, Renge will tell you that she grew up in a hidden village in the mountains of the Azim Steppes, the youngest of several children. She will spin a variety of stories about a happy childhood with a loving family of simple farmers who worked hard for their living. Nothing could be further from the truth.

This little Au Ra grew up in southern Doma, in a city called Yamagiku. Her father was the head priest of the Wakamiya shrine, the oldest temple known to the city and he trained his only child in the arts of the miko, instilling lessons into her from the moment she could sit up on her own. Not content with his lot in life as one of the most respected men in Doma, Wakamiya no Yasushi plotted to climb ever higher up the social ladder; he even plotted out the murder of Doma's ruling family, intending to take over the throne himself. To further his ends, he hired the talents of one of the most skilled shinobi clans, taking Tsukasa Hanzo into his employ. This ninja trained Renge from the moment she could toddle around until the razing of Doma by Garlemald's forces and he was no kind taskmaster. When she was not attending her training -- a rare occurrence for the diminutive raen girl -- she was locked away in one of the sessha, unable to interact with the people who came to the shrine grounds to pray to the kami. For the first seventeen years of her life, the only contact she had with people involved her father, her teacher, the other children she was forced to fight and the victims she was sent to slay to further her father's goals. She never even saw the sun until the razing of Doma when she escaped during the confusion and fled to the ocean, boarding one of the ships Lady Yugiri chartered to take the Domans to Eorzea. Her childhood was neither happy nor kind and beneath her friendly smiles lurks a cold-blooded killer.

1577-Present

WIP.

(... This page is currently under construction. Please check back later. Also, please see @auriren.tumblr.com for Renge's poetry and other works.)

Miscellaneous

RUMORS

Some of these rumors are untrue or are greatly exaggerated. Please feel free to add your own rumors under PC!

◢ Common Rumors (Easily overheard)
◢ Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear)
◢ Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard)
◢ PC Rumors (Rumors from the character's of other players)

RELATIONS

Romantic Interest     Platonic Love      Good Standing     Poor Standing
Kara Iriq : One of Renge's more interesting customers, he crashed into her apothecary and demanded that she brew for him a poison with a rather specific set of effects after hearing a rumour regarding an adventurous alchemist in Pearl Lane. This stoic, taciturn Xaela managed to drag her into the hazardous underworld of the Glass Network and wound up turning her life on its ear. The pair of them struck a deal and now Kara has a jovial, snarky sidekick. She stood in for his missing left hand until he regained it. Now they travel together, hunting artifacts and battling Garlemald at every turn.

Family Matters

Relatives:

Father: 若宮の靖. 
Wakamiya no Yasushi.

Mother: 若宮の綾子 née 森丘.
Wakamiya no Ayako née Morioka.

Paternal:

Grandfather: 若宮の真.
Wakamiya no Makoto.

Grandmother: 若宮の紫 née 相馬.
Wakamiya no Murasaki née Sōma.

Maternal:

Grandfather: 森丘の博信.
Morioka no Hironobu.

Grandmother: 森丘の裕子 née 今川.
Morioka no Yuuko née Imagawa.

Though she comes from an extensive family tree with numerous branches, the majority of her relatives have been listed as "deceased." Most of the deaths have been ruled accidental and whispers abounded in Doma that the Wakamiya line was cursed.



Gallery


Footnotes

TV Tropes: Abusive Parents Archnemesis Dad The Clan

You are Already Dead Martial Arts and Crafts Pressure Point Aw, Look Love at First Punch Miko