Morgan

OUT of CHARACTER
Name: Bella.
Other characters: None.

IN CHARACTER

Name: Morgan.
Alias: The Gift From Afar.
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Awakening.
Canon point/AU: After the end of the game, soon after Morgan sets off gallivanting with Inigo. Her father, the grandmaster tactician and hero of Ylisse, sacrificed himself to save the world and put an end to the Fell Dragon Grima for good.
Journal: senryakuka
Age: 19 (apparent, though it doesn't really matter to her what exact age she is).
History: Historians and scholars have scoured the records for any clue as to the origins of the divergent daughter of the hero of Ylisse, but it was impossible to make a record of something that not even Morgan herself could relate. Having forgotten most of her past, Morgan was left with only memories of her father as she woke up in a field one day, and was stumbled upon by Chrom and the Ylissean Shepherds-- and her father from her timeline whom she had so adored, only several years younger. What is known of her past is that she was born to the Grandmaster Tactician and his wife Anna, the Secret Seller, into a divergent timeline, only to appear within theirs in time to change the course of history, or in this case, the future.

However, as a girl not meant to exist in such a timeline, she felt comfortable enough being lost to the annals of history as just another tagalong in the famous army of the Shepherds, making her own due as an operative part of the quest to destroy Grima once and for all, alongside Chrom and his illustrious comrades and, of course, her father. She occasionally feared for the future that lay ahead of them, as the universe seemed to like to maintain continuity and closed loops rather than divergent paths with dead ends, but they made that huge difference. They'd changed the future. It would be different. It would be different, she told herself as the dashing young hero Inigo slipped the ring onto her finger, and she leapt into his arms covering him in her affections. They won. It was over.

Addditional resources on the Fire Emblem Wiki.

Presentation: Energy would be the first word that comes to mind for any scholar chronicling the feats of Morgan, the Gift from Afar. Whimsical and clever, she's light on her feet, sword in her left hand and tome in her right, quick to make a joke and even quicker to weave her way around the conflict, often getting her way by befuddlement, charm, humor, pity, what have you, as soon as she would win it by spell and blade. Like her mother she's fond of puns and enjoys a good practical joke, though from time to time her humor takes a rather sadistic bent with a kiss of schadenfreude with every silly giggle and smile. Her positivity and optimism shines through even in the oddest and often rather inappropriate situations; some would even call her callous, but "blithe" would be the best word for it.

True to her merchant blood, she's opportunistic and frugal, taking every opportunity with gusto and enthusiasm, intending to cut losses wherever possible and milk her blessings for all they're worth. She tends to be rather flighty and elusive when it comes to serious conversation, and thoroughly enjoys beating around the bush and kidding around until she's forced to accept the gravity of the situation, or until she successfully dissipates the tension.

She is, however, realistic when it comes to employing strategy, and is, to a degree, rather bookish in order to meet the challenge of filling up the massive shoes her father left behind when he just had to go and be a hero. She follows his footsteps side by side, balancing her study of history and tactics with martial practice and magical training to hone her well-rounded skills to the best of her seemingly limitless potential.

Compassion is a merit she's learned over time, though she finds herself caring more about doing what's best rather than clinging to sentimentality; but as it were, she always works her hardest within reason to preserve and protect the things and people she cares about when the going gets tough. Thus, she's adapted herself to being enormously flexible, always considering her options and keeping a lookout for a way out, a way through, or a way to circumvent trouble where possible. Boundlessly resourceful in a pinch, it's been said she's a spitting image of her father, confident and composed and brilliant under pressure.

All criticisms of her character aside, Morgan's strongest suit is her marked optimism and self-motivation which she applies toward bettering herself in as many ways as possible. She comes as a source of inspiration to her peers at the toughest of times, encouraging and firm, confident and serious when the game is truly on, and she's willing to see it all through to the very bitter end, though she tries to make every move carefully and efficiently. Nonetheless, she can always be found side by side with her compatriots, plan in head, sword in hand, and spell on lips, ready to take down a goddamn dragon if it came to it.

Motivations: Despite her cheery, happy go lucky attitude and her seemingly carefree and easygoing aura, A dark little corner in Morgan's mind dwells on the implications of what happened at the Dragon's Table, and what it means for her now. Though she's willing to live the rest of her life out loving every moment and getting the most out of it, she finds herself unsatisfied, bored, even, with a happily ever after. Her attraction to pain, her affinity to havoc, her penchant for accruing power and knowledge all prove a worrisome conundrum for herself behind the positivity, as she struggles with the fact that she carries Grima's bloodline. She's drawn naturally to scenes of conflict, which, luckily, her fiancee is as well, looking for trouble together to solve and reap the benefits. But when push comes to shove, perhaps what Morgan is after isn't to be a hero, really-- but to attain that same fearsome skill and intellect she sees in her father.

Though she began her leap into the scene as a diligent acolyte of her father, Morgan's affinity to her mother grew as she spent time with her traveling around Ylisse and Valm, and as a result of her growing bond with such a mystifying and charming woman as the Secret Seller,  her heart goes out to both mother and father as she strives to honor their legacies with tactics, swordplay, sorcery, and perhaps most importantly, the art of capitalism, though admittedly the latter isn't at the top of her priorities when it comes to surviving. Still, their images are burned into her mind, and in her world or not, will continue to live by their lessons.

Setting: Morgan is a pragmatic person in a pinch, and tends not to overanalyze implications of situations in favor of getting the job done. Her mind quickly draws from her experience arm in arm with her comrades and from her countless hours of study and training, and the wisdom of her father when met with any challenge. An objective-based personality, Morgan doesn't find the nature of the games, putting people into an arena to slaughter each other for entertainment, particularly so concerning or worthy of note so much as getting out alive and playing the right cards to do her job well.

She's not exactly the most socially conscious or appropriate person, though she carries a certain charm that she knows can be used to easily slip into the hearts of the people around her. Her energy and positivity is infectious, delivered in a way more or less self contained, but inspiring, and intends to push this advantage to its fullest when the time comes to make very important friends.

She's willing to make allies, certainly, but although she'd be loath to betray her comrades, would rather careful planning and positioning and survival tactics win her a game rather than having to kill the people with whom she's formed bonds, and understands her objective well enough to value her success over a heroic death. She can worry about fighting or circumventing the system after she manages to survive.

SAMPLES

First Person Thread: An example of a first person post, at least 200 words minimum. Feel free to use introspection and scene setting if your character is not chatty. Please use one of the two following prompts:

For Tributes: You have just been killed in your first Arena. It was violent, messy, and unexpected. And just as suddenly you wake back up in a very cold, very medical room. After a few moments of silence, a voice comes up over the speakers.

"Please use the device to the right to record your current feeling on your loss. Once you are finished, someone will be along to take you back to the Capitol." On cue, a small recording device starts to chirp at your side.

It is quite clear that you will be staying in the room until you make that recording.

[Another rude awakening...her family seems to be rather prone to that, doesn't it? Waking up after what could have been your worst nightmare, the most horrifying and terrible of mirages, if they didn't actually happen. But they did. And this one, she's sure of it, it happened. It could have been met with anger, or fear, but Morgan's first response is confusion...and by extension, curiosity. What manner of magic is this? She's so sure she died; to that trap she knew was coming, the one she'd hoped to outmaneuver with her party. Hoping to outwit them, with the strength of those invisible ties she formed between their little group. But it's so remarkable, and so terribly disappointing, to remember how easily a knot is undone by a sword's steely edge.]

[In this strange place with scrying portals and voice boxes that transmit sound and picture through lightning, so many impossible things were impossible. Like her being alive, for one. Things made little sense in this universe. But she knows one thing, one thing her stylists had said-- and that was to play the objective whenever possible. She steels herself, and takes a breath. No way but forward.]

Losing a battle...is an interesting experience.

[She begins firm and clear in her mezzoalto voice, despite the shivering cold, sitting up from the cot and staring forward, with a drop of energy in her voice that grows as she speaks.]

It's horrifying, at first. In those moments when you realize just what you're in store for. Hearing the whip of the bowstring and fletching as the last arrow you'll ever hear is loosed, or watching the minute windup of a sword coming down to meet you after you made that one wrong move; like the dread and chill you feel as you watch the grandmaster move that last piece in position to seal a checkmate.

[She closes her eyes.]

But something changes, once you've realized what's happening. Once you accept that you're going to die. You messed up, and that's fine. It doesn't hurt anymore, even as you feel the blade part your flesh, or as you feel the arrowhead thud into your chest. You've accepted it. You're going to die. And...it's sort of a release, in a way. Nothing matters anymore. You could cry in pain, or scream, or maybe beg for mercy, but before you know it, it's over, the agony is over. You learned from your mistake, finally, in your final moments, the lesson you take to your grave, and you can go without regrets.

[Her eyes slowly open once more, as she finally turns to look directly at the little speaker box into which she's meant to speak.]

It took me down a notch. A bunch of notches, even. Like someone pulled the pin on my adjustable chair and it dropped all the way to the last rung while i was sitting on it. I guess once you're dead, it's easier to look back at your death. In your last moments, as you close your eyes and bleed out, those last moments of being alive, you finally figure it out. You're not afraid of dying anymore. You've learned your lesson.

[There's a brief pause. She takes a soft breath.]

And after you've accepted all that, well. You can never really be killed.

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Prose: 200 word minimum. To mimic the style of the game, please write your third person sample based on the following prompt:

You have been set in a room in front of the Gamemakers to be judged on a score of one to twelve, with one being the lowest and twelve being the highest. The Gamemakers sit safely behind a force field and watch, and you are provided with an array of weapons and targets, though no gun to be seen.

If you are a new Tribute, you have been plucked from home and rushed in here with only a brief explanation of what is going on: You are about to enter an Arena death match that only one person will make it out of, and impressing these people will help you live.

Here she was, now, at this defining moment. Make or break, the mentors and stylists said. This would be the moment she had to make the impression. This would be her moment to prove herself.  Never mind the perversion of the situation, though the confusion had gone by now-- she was aware that pandimensional portals were a thing; getting along wonderfully with her mother had clued her into the workings of these rift doors that marked the powers of the elusive Secret Seller dynasty. She hadn't ever really considered the implications of such things existing, especially in the wrong hands. Someone from a universe with different rules, different people, different logic, could enter her world and take her in the night to their odd and dysfunctional world where random people slaughtering each other before an audience was a valid form of entertainment. Well, drats. Here she was, now.

Impress them, she thought. Impress them. They waited expectantly for her, as the gears in her mind began to turn. Her skills, her strength, her knowledge, all now would come into play as her game of chess began. Though it was far from her greatest accomplishment, it felt like her life was leading up to this point, all that training, all that study would finally pay off. She breathed out slowly, and a smile formed on her softened pink lips as she looked up, striding to the weapons rack to lift a shortsword off the rungs. Still in her worn robes, she held the sword in her left hand as her bright golden-brown eyes gleamed softly in the artificial light.

"My name is Morgan," she stated, lightly, yet confidently. "I'm a sorceress and a swordswoman. I also like playing chess and vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce and blueberries."

With a bow, she turned to face the melee targets,  and gripped the sword tightly in her worn gloves. And her feet took her off like Mercury's sandals winding her off toward the series of dummies at her full-tilt sprint, though her feet seemed to move as if charmed, though her drills with Sir Frederick had paid off after all. The distance was closed quickly, within seconds-- and the heads of the dummies which she blew past with her sword tumbled to the ground, whipped off by strikes and sleight of hand as she stopped moving only at the end of the line of targets, spinning the blade around in her hand before propping it into the ground, tip downward, turning to the judges to gauge their reaction as all but the exact middle dummy stood less a head.

With a flourish, she raised the sword again, breathing controlled with a confident little smile on her face as she walked toward the lone standing dummy. It would be just like she practiced with dad.

And she dropped the sword.

"Ignis."

The only following sound was a roar of energy as her successful cast scintillated with purple energy, palm striking the wooden dummy with shattering force as she stood with a high stance and careful guard, splinters zipping out and away, striking walls and the forcefield in a sunburst pattern. Veins in her left hand pulsed with the slowly dissipating energy as she stood upright, catching her breath and looking up at the judges.

"I also think ladybugs are the best bugs. I'll be here all week."

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What is your character scored: 8. As a mixed mage and warrior, Morgan tends to carry a careful balance of both her talents. She's a little strange, though some would say in a charming way, while others may find her off-puttingly cheery at inappropriate moments. An awful actor but a superb strategist and at the very least an elite fighter with and without magic, Morgan's careful study theoretically equips her well for a survival situation, and she can bat off most queries with a witty retort that hints at her knowledge, though doesn't reveal it. She's frank for the most part, though she enjoys dancing around conversation with her humor, with a little tongue in cheek for every sentence.
Abilities:
-Ignis: Morgan selectively applies magical force to her physical blows, or physical force to her magical spells.
-Arcthunder: A lightning spell with a range of around 50 feet.
-Locktouch: Magically undoes physical locks; i.e. most locks not charmed or magically protected can be undone.
-Mend: Heals a major wound at the expense of a high amount of energy.
-Rescue: Brings a friendly party she can see or communicate with toward her, or teleports her to a nearby location readily pictured in her mind's eye or visible to the naked eye, expending a high amount of energy with a maximum range of 150 feet.

Token: Morgan's token is a black queen chess piece. She enjoys wearing a scale balance symbol as an ornamental effect, however.

PLAYER
Name: Bella
Age: 21
Personal Journal: N/A
Skype/Plurk: SonOfAJeffers/Syntheticearth

CHARACTER
Name: Morgan
Canon: Fire Emblem: Awakening
Age: 18 (Apparent.)
Timeline: It's unclear from what universe Morgan was torn and brought to the canon timeline of Awakening due to the mysterious case of amnesia, but in this case, she's from a timeline where the Avatar marries Anna the Merchant and begets her.

Personality: Among the company of children in Fire Emblem: Awakening, the Female Morgan is second only to her alternate Male self (if the Avatar was female) in her optimism and blithe attitude. Tending to find positives in experiences and making light of situations, Morgan is a playful and silly character in her support conversations with her parents and her friends. She's often found playing pranks on them, such as her repeated attempts to outwit the Avatar with tricks and puzzles, and often making odd, whimsical decisions, such as banging her head repeatedly against wooden planks in order to jog her memories of her relations. Despite this, she remains sharp as a tack with a wit clever enough to match that of her father's. Morgan also inherits frugal and rather materialistic attitude in some senses from her merchant mother, though she can barely remember her.

As a sister, Morgan is a genuinely diligent and caring sister, though still playful and somewhat sardonic. In this case, however, Morgan doesn't have a sibling-- at least, not one that she remembers. With her friends, Morgan tends to have more of a sadistic sense of humor, poking fun and making jabs at them from time to time, as evidenced in her support conversations with Inigo and Owain, for example, where she has the boys run absurd tasks just to see them struggle with them in some way. She's not the most sensitive person, nor does she spend much time offering help to others; rather taking pleasure in being a bit of a jokester, though her teasing may occasionally go too far, such as when she pulls on Yarne's ears just to hear him squeal.

What can be said for sure about Morgan is her enormous sense of self-motivation. Less magnanimous than her male counterpart, though no less cheery and energetic, she channels her energy into propelling herself ahead toward her goal of becoming a legendary tactician like her father, skilled and powerful. In such a way she exerts a more aggressive presence than her male counterpart, likely attempting to model herself after her father and the admirable traits she finds in him. In any case, she does carry the lineage of Grima in her bloodline, and given the right influences, Morgan is liable to fall into line with the promises of power and control that her blood would afford her should she bear the cultist's task of resurrecting the Fell Dragon Grima.

Background: Aside from the identity of her parents, Morgan's history is steeped in mystery by design of the game, and much is left ambiguous about her family life or the timeline she came from. As much history as is accessible for reading is located on her wiki at http://fireemblem.wikia.com/wiki/Morgan_(Awakening) .

Abilities: Morgan's initial skills show considerable aptitude in both swords and spells, quick with her hands to cast and strong and graceful in her swings, though her potential for growth as she studies and experiences more and more are limitless, blessed with an ever-expanding mind and palette for knowledge. She's a sharp and clever strategist, and knows her way around a marketplace to compete with the best when push comes to shove. In particular, her abilities to start with are:
Swordfaire -- Specializing in shorter one handed swords (as she carries a staff in the other hand), Morgan is highly adept at bobbing and weaving with her blade, trading magic for steel seamlessly.
Rescue -- Teleports a somewhat distant friend to Morgan's side. This is around 50 feet in range. So long as she knows where this friend is and can communicate with them somehow, barriers between them do not tend to matter. This requires a lot of energy.
Heal/Mend -- Cures minor/major injuries (bruises and cuts to severe lacerations, fractures, and burns) as a touch spell. This requires energy to scale with the injury.
Teleport -- What it says on the can. She can instantly blink up to 50 feet in any direction so long as the target point is visible or very clearly pictured in the mind's eye. This requires a lot of energy.
Thunder -- A standard/journeyman lightning spell. This causes electric damage up to 25 feet. This requires minor energy to cast.
Locktouch -- Morgan knows her way around a lock with both hand and wand, and can unlock just about anything that isn't magically protected with a bit of effort. Minor to moderate energy, if she uses magic, depending on the complexity of the lock.

Network/Actionspam Sample:

[Morgan's golden eyes flicker between her sword and the expanse before her, where she could see a horizon.]

This place isn't so bad.

[Her own verbal reassurance coupled with the weight of the steel in her palm fills Morgan's cheeks with a bit of warmth in this dull late winter chill. It's starting to warm up, again. At least the weather makes sense. As she shifts in her stance and begins to walk again, she feels a jostle on her back as a hard wooden pole of white ash curled with a mystic lattice at one end bumps against the back of her head as she moves.]

E-eh. What the hell is-- Oh! Right... a staff, I have one of those! Hah.

[Despite the disconcerting feeling of not remembering where she is and what she was doing before she woke up, the girl breathes out steadily and closes her eyes to take in the dewy morning air. It's crisp, just the right temperature for her cloak and scarf to keep her warm.]

Mmm...it feels like a good day. I just know it. Heh-- this wouldn't be the first time I lost dad wandering away somewhere. I'll find him soon. You've got a way of leaving defeated enemies in your wake, anyway, dad. You're kind of hard to miss, even if you're the best there is. Maybe even because you're the best there is.

[She lets out a quiet chuckle as she draws out the magic staff from behind her back with her right hand; gripping her steel longsword in her left as she moves onward. Her strides grow more confident as she moves, her body responding to the familiar weight of her inanimate companions in sword and staff with easy, balanced steps that swish her shoulder length crimson red hair back and forth with her stride.]

[The telltale signs of erected stone peek over the horizon a few hours onward, and Morgan's traveled boots feel a firmness to the ground now, as if it's been well trodden. She takes in a deep breath.]

A city...awesome! I'll be sure to find dad there...let's go, then. Time's a wasting, Morgan. ...Kind of sad that I've got to talk to myself to keep me company. It's quiet out here. But I guess, for now, that means there's less to be worried about.

Prose Log Sample: It was a curious little thing. Insignificant, really, when she first felt it in her satchel. She'd seen little trinkets like it before, and seeing as she barely remembered her own father's name, it made sense that she probably picked it up somewhere along the way she wandered over to...wherever this was. Still, dad said it was always the little things you didn't think were relevant that come back to bite you. And this little thing she didn't think was relevant was scraping at her attention from the gentle bumps it made against her hip in her stride, rhythmic and sychronized like any harmonic motion. It was a watch, that was what they were called. Little gearboxes that ticked away time. Pretty little things they were, she could remember it. They were always only for rich folk, though.

The first time she opened the watch, that's what she saw. A clock face with hands pointing in different directions toward the numbers one through twelve. But it was the second time, where the opened little watch showed...nothing but a few words where the clock had once been-- that was disturbing to her. Whatever it was, it was strange-- adaptive, almost magical in nature. She was sure of it. With every step through the empty street of this dead town where she could only see shadows flit about, no matter how quickly she chased, her interest grew. It may have been some cursed device given to her by some dark mage in exchange for her father's soul-- but no, why would she ever trade father's soul for a cursed device?! It must have been something incredible, something remarkable. It had to be. So she had to open it. She had to find out.

A gloved hand slipped into her satchel to hold the circular disk-like object in her fingers, before pulling it out for her eyes to assay once more. It made a beeping noise, this time, as her thumb undid the latch for the cover, and the face where the clock had once been turned from black to white, then back to that text, again. Welcome to Ruby City, it read.

Yeah, Morgan decided. She'd probably sell his soul for something like this after all. Her hand rose to cover her mouth's silence-breaking chuckle as she looked down at the device. Well, the investigation would begin now. For better or worse.