Hana Jeong

A character in Memphis Gods, a Scion of Ares.

Background

Hana Jeong was born to third-generation South Korean immigrants; her father is a licensed plumber, working with Hana's older brothers. Hana is several years younger than them, and was an unexpected child. Her mother died when she was quite young, and Hana grew up in a questionable part of Memphis with completely inadequate supervision and parenting.

Given her stubborness, it was inevitable that she started getting into fights from a very young age-- but she got into more and more of them, gaining a reputation as a fierce foe. It was, however, hard for her to make any friends at all. Everyone was scared of her, and often with cause, but very, very few would dare cross her-- a true one-girl gang.

Hana is very tall for her age and ancestry, a Korean girl with a lean and rangy figure, normally dressed in jeans and t-shirts, with long black hair. If one could get past the terror of meeting her eyes, she's actually fairly pretty, but that rarely matters.

Qualities and Gifts

Qualities

Master [+6] One-Girl Gang [ ][ ][ ][ ]
Expert [+4] Mistress Of Fear [ ][ ][ ]
Good [+2] Incredibly Stubborn (Raw Courage) [ ][ ]
Average [+0] Athletic [ ]
Average [+0] Short Order Cook [ ]

Poor [-2] Loves to Fight

Gifts

Good [+2] Epic Strength [ ][ ]
Good [+2] Epic Toughness [ ][ ]
Good [+2] Purview: War [ ][ ]

Legend

Hero Points/Legend: 9/10

Legend "Ticks": ////

Visitation

Hana panted as she looked over her fallen foes. She was covered in sweat, her shirt was torn, a few drops of blood spattered her clothes, a few minor scrapes and cuts decorated her fists and arms. And she was grinning. The red rage of battle was addictive, like a drug, and the savage joy hadn't left her yet. She laughed.

"...And that's what you get for messing with me. Stupid motherfuckers."

Stupid kids, trying to start something with her... who were they trying to impress? Their friends?

...Friends...

Hana shook her head fiercely. Thinking about that kind of thing didn't lead anywhere good. Someone like her didn't get friends; that was how the world worked. She considered kicking one of the fallen to vent her feelings as she left, but there was no point to doing that. Hana didn't hurt the weak; what fun was that?

The booming laugh from the alleyway took her entirely by surprise, and she whirled, glaring at whoever it was that...

She was certain that the gigantic man could not possibly have been there before; she'd have remembered an eight-foot tall muscular man with curling black hair and beard. Especially this one. Power seemed to reach out from him, a primal command to submit or flee. The urge to grovel like a whipped dog was overpowering...

...but Hana resisted it. Biting back any fear she felt, she stepped forward towards the man, tall and proud.

"So what's so damned funny?" she shouted, challenging him. The man grinned, clearly incredibly pleased.

"That those fools would dare face you," he suggested. "But you lower yourself by fighting them. They aren't worthy of your true strength, my daughter."

Hana blinked. Daughter? That made no sense at all. "What are you--"

"No, I mean it. You are my daughter, Hana Jeong, unlooked-for child. I caused your birth, and my ichor flows through your veins. You are above these mortals here."

Hana started to shout, to argue, to deny these ridiculous words... but she couldn't. It wasn't fear. It wasn't his air of command.

...She could tell. She knew he was telling the truth.

"That's right," he said. "I am Ares, daughter, and surely you are a daughter that I can be proud indeed of. Look at you! At your tender age, with nary a war to hone you, fighting through a dozen foes, feared by all who face you, even men twice your size... why, you even dare stand before me! Me! You are my champion, daughter. You are worthy as few have ever been. I am not Zeus, with a thousand scattered children testifying to his lusts. No, you are my Amazon, Hana. The time has come for heroes like you to walk this world again. You will be needed, and you will find allies as well as foes."

Hana stared, gathered her strength, and answered.

"Why the hell should I do your dirty work? If you're this God of War, fight your own damn battles!"

"Temper, temper," said Ares. "Don't challenge a god until you're much stronger, Hana. You aren't ready for that as yet. Someday... well, someday, perhaps we shall cross swords. In any case, you'll fight because that's what you were born to do. Battle calls to you, Hana Jeong. You have the power of my children-- the power of Phobos and Deimos, of Enyo and Eris. You've only started to achieve your true strength, and your destiny awaits."

Hana took shuddering breaths. Her head was swimming, and emotions were passing over her in a chaotic whirl, approaching utter panic and utter ecstacy.

"Now," Ares continued, "this is where we traditionally give gifts to our chosen children. Magic swords, obedient servants, mechanical owls... the tools our champions use to make their name unto legend."

He reached into a bag, and took something out. It was red, some kind of folded cloth...? He threw it at her, and Hana caught it, unfolded and looked at it.

It was a T-shirt, red with black lettering in Greek. Hana realized that she could read it...

"'Daddy's Little Amazon'?" she said, disbelievingly. "What, is this some kind of magic--"

"No," said Ares, cutting her off. "I've seen you in battle, daughter. You don't need some trinket to achieve victory. Your weapon is not some sword named Excalibur, no spear named Gae Bolg. Your weapon, that which shall lead you to a thousand victories, is named Hana Jeong, and all shall fear facing it. What greater armaments could I offer you? What servant could I give you that could stand beside you? You yourself are enough."

Hana took that in, feeling the words fill her with power. But...

"Then why the shirt?"

Ares grinned. "Under the circumstances, I thought I ought to give you SOME form of gift. Happy Birthday, Hana Jeong..."

And he was gone.