Couldn't find the original thread, so I guess this is as good a place as any to post this on.<br/><br/>This old thing was conjured up back when we just were starting and Cream liked the character which landed in his PM-inbox. After some minor corrections I was meant to post it up for everyone to see, but unfortunately I went away for a couple of days and when I returned I just became flat out lazy and uninspired. But now I have gotten out of that horrible mindset and present to the public, Sochi, the Khan.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(http://i362.photobucket.com/albums/oo62/cimsoderholm/SochiTemujin.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Sochi Temujin<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 54<br/><strong>Home State:</strong> Khentii Province, Mongolia<br/><strong>Role:</strong> The Khan (Combined horse riding, sword play and archery)<br/><strong>Place of Hierarchy:</strong> Old timer<br/><br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Black<br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Brown<br/><strong>Height:</strong> 6'6"<br/><strong>Weight:</strong> 182 lbs<br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong> Sochi is quite impressive to behold, standing a good part taller than most. His crudely chiseled face seldom show any other expression than the purely stoical. He often dress in his country's traditional clothing, even when he is not performing. His horse, Ogedei, if just as giant in proportions, which is fortunate since he carries his master's weight every day during punishing practice. Ogedei is pure white and none can remember that Sochi has ever ridden any other beast.<br/><br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> The Circus means everything to Sochi. It is his home, his family and his eternal resting place. The traveling life style fits him well as his ancestors cheer and his ancient blood burns with a lust to never stay long in one place. He is quite and inexpressive whenever he performs as well as when he's with the others. He has been known to smile whenever he's with his horse and often speaks with it for hours on end in his native tongue. It is pretty unclear if he even speaks English at all or if he chose not to. He can often be heard in the late evenings or during the celebrations performing the traditional throat singing and playing the morin khuur. Should the circus ever be in danger, Elizabeth knows that he would die to defend it, with sword and bow if he has to.<br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> Mongolia was in the clutches of the Soviet Union when Sochi was born. The Great Patriotic War had been over for years, yet his people were still reeling from the event. His family was one that lived by the old ways, as commissioned by the Party to be shown to visitors like animals in a cage. Sochi was brought up to love the freedom of the steppe and horse, but he never felt the free winds on his face. The oppressive yoke of Communist Mongolia meant he would never be free.<br/><br/>One night when he was tending to his horse, he saw strange smoke rising in the east. Gathering his possessions he rode towards it, unyielding and steadfast, but never coming any closer. He felt compelled to follow it and so he did for days, crossing the steppes and deserts, mountains and valleys, until on the fourteenth day he reached the ice-covered ocean. The smoke still lingered in the horizon as he drove the horse on, fueled only by water and a will to find out where the smoke came from. As he reached the other side he found a village, not unlike his own back home. As he approached a short elderly man came forward. They spoke not a word to each other, but for the first time in his life Sochi felt the wind of freedom on his face.<br/><br/>He lived with the Inuits for several years, helping them hunt and gather anything they needed. He learned their language and was told he was in Alaska. America, land of the free. To Sochi it sure seemed like it. The Inuits lived off the nature and walked or sleighed over the snow covered landscape. They weren't depending on the Party's rice or resources, not caged and forced to perform for corrupt politicians or blind diplomats. He was happy and content. But one night he saw the smoke once more. Again he gathered his possessions, bid farewell to the Inuits and took off east.<br/><br/>He finally arrived a year later, seeing for the first time the blinding light of civilization. He knew it not at the time, but he had traveled over Canada and arrived outside a town in northern Minnesota. He followed the smoke trail  and found that it came from a gathering of tents and wagons. As he approached a young man came forward. They spoke not a word to each other, but for the first time in his life Sochi felt truly at home.<br/><br/>Gerald found the young Mongolian exciting and over the years they worked out an act that no other circus had available. The skills and talents of an ancient people was compiled in one man and Gerald called Sochi the Khan, after the famous warlords of old. None other was as skilled with horse, sword or bow. Sochi could lead his steed in marvelous maneuvers, wring his swords in a deadly but beautiful sword-dance and hit any target with his bow and arrows. He could bend an arrow in the air to hit a target hidden behind a man, balance the tip of a sword on the tip of his nose and leap his mount clean over any obstacle, be it burning or the audience itself. He was the main attraction for years!<br/><br/>Then Elizabeth and Lawrence arrived. Sochi was an old man by then, but had never lost the sharpness of his body or mind. He was still one of the greatest acts of the circus, but he was stunned by the beauty of their act, the ferocity of it, the amount of raw excitement. Sochi never became the great act again, but to him it didn't matter. As long as the family prospered and his horse was well fed, he would be content in the knowledge that he truly lived the life according to the old ways. He had no need to pillage and conquer, for the excitement of the audience was its' own awesome treasure.<br/><br/>But the times changed. Gerald changed. He became a bitter old man, fawning for the young ambitious Elizabeth. He found himself doubting if his old friend was doing right. He realized early on that the two young acts were playing a dangerous game with the old man. He saw it all unfold as clear as a hawk spotting its prey over the open steppes. When the whole charade broke and Lawrence fled the field, the real hell begun. Sochi began giving his horse food from his own plate to keep the steed strong, but it wasn't enough. The night when his horse collapsed in the act, he realized Gerald had gone too far. No one starved a Mongolian’s horse to this state. Something had to be done!<br/><br/>Sochi waited in the rain for an hour, his bow ready. The old man arrived to his tent and lit a light. He sat down and had his fill of drinks. Sochi pulled an arrow and nocked it. He watched the shadow on the canvas, how it moved and distorted. Finally he knew where to place the shot. He drew back the shot and aimed. One through the head. Then he could take care of the body, bury it in the field under the trampled dirt of the circus ring. Let it be forgotten there, let everyone forget him. But then someone else entered the tent. Elizabeth was a fury, making sure that the passed out man never woke up again. He watched the whole spectacle through the canvas, watched her cry as the deed was done. He returned to his horse and slept by its side that night.<br/><br/>The police tried to get something out of him, but he pretended the old gaggy Mongolian, refusing to speak English. It took a while, but in the end they left him alone, one of them a soar jaw richer after he threatened to take the malnourished horse away. He stood by the others' sides when they welcomed Elizabeth back. But he gave her a hand on the shoulder and a look that said it all. He knew and supported it all the way. He would have done anything to save the family. It was his freedom.<br/><br/>Sochi still have not performed since that fateful night, but as Ogedei grew stronger he started to return to the practice field. Driven by Elizabeth's Spirit he has become even stronger and the more accurate, his horse faster and more agile, his arrows bending to the sheer force of his will. The time has come for him to ride again! It is time once more for him to conquer the audience!<br/> <br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong> The day was done. Elizabeth had manage to return from the police, her name cleared of all guilt. She had triumphed over the wretched old man in more ways than one. She had eased a burden for the whole circus. He had spent the day tending to his beloved steed. Ogedei was weak, almost dead as a matter of fact. When the police was over to interrogate everyone, they had threatened to take the poor creature away. Sochi had flown into a rage and the circus hands had to pull him away from the arrogant officer. They had also managed to keep the police away with a mix of insults, deceptions and looks that said "get out or we'll pummel you into the dirt". Many were the young people of the circus that came to him to talk. They spoke about anything with him, poured their hearts out. Perhaps it was because he never answered them, but only listened. He was one of the "old timers", so respect was a given, but they genuinely liked him. Like some sort of weird grand father who is just there to be old and wise.<br/><br/>The sun was setting. He took care of the sick horse until it fell to sleep, then went back to his tent. He brought out his armor and weaponry. He prepared them for battle, as was the old ways, and donned them with a sense of pride emanating from his heart. As he always did before shows, he prayed to his ancestors for fortune in the coming battle. It was a show to the audience, an act to the others in the circus, but every night he performed he prepared for battle. Because it wasn't for show, or an act. It was a battle for his family and home.<br/><br/>It was almost midnight as he left the tent and crept through the camp. His eyes were narrowed and blackened with coal so that his eyes would adapt faster to the darkness. His knees were like springs, carrying his weight without a sound over the camp grounds. He slipped in to Elizabeth's tent without a noise. He approached the bed where the woman was lying. He sat down on his knees at the foot of it and crossed his swords and bow over his lap. Now he did something he had never done with anyone other than Gerald before. He whispered in a heavy accented English.<br/><br/>"I don't know if you are awake to hear this, but through the spirits of my ancestors and the honesty of my heart, I know you will understand regardless. I was there last night. I watched. But I felt the same hatred as you did and the same sorrow. Gerald was an old friend, but he wasn't a good man anymore. I had intended to shot him through the canvas of the tent. But you beat me to it..."<br/><br/>He let out a low sigh. There were tears in his eyes. The memories were difficult to conjure.<br/><br/>"When I first arrived here I had ridden Ogedei for almost two years across the steppes of Mongolia, the wastes of Kamtjatka, over the frozen waters of the Bering strait, through the beautiful landscape of Alaska and the wilderness of Canada. I arrived here and realized that I was at home. Gerald was like a brother, all of you were like little nephews and nieces. But... he changed. He changed when you and Lawrence came. I know that you wanted this, to be in control. I know you never intended for it to end this way. But Gerald had become twisted like an old tree. You had to burn it so that a new one could grow in its place..."<br/><br/>He bowed down, touching his forehead to the ground. His tears welled up and started to moisten the dirt. He drew a shivering breath before he continued.<br/><br/>"I have always listened. To you and Lawrence, Gerald and everyone else. You never thought of it, but I spoke not because I couldn't. I never spoke because no one else would listen. I know of every problem you have ever had, because I listened. I will continue to listen as long as you never do what he did. Keep our family safe and I shall forever protect it from within and without with my swords, my bow, my horse and soul. I will kill for this family. I will die for this family. And if that means I kill and die for you, so be it. You call me the Khan. Call me what you may but to me there is only one Khan. You."<br/><br/>He reached back and pulled an arrow from his quiver. Straightening up he placed it gently on the bed before rising without a sound and retreating out of the tent. He ran from the camp, out into the open field and felt the cold night air brush the tears out of his eyes. The winds of freedom blew through him and he leaped up on a post of a picket fence. He balanced on it perfectly. A low vibrating hum broke out of his throat as he began singing. The nature around him enveloped his very soul. He truly was at home. From now on he would always be at home, no matter what.<br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> Horses, singing, archery and swordsmanship (of course) and trying new food.<br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> Spiders, communism and lazy people. Rather a true American for a Mongolian.<br/><br/></div></div><br/>And for those who are curious, Elizabeth's response to the sudden Mongol invasion of her tent in the middle of the night.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">The night had bled on, and her patience had worn incredibly thin.  Finally she was rested in bed, and she felt a disturbance.  She couldn’t say whether or not she heard it, or simply felt it, but at once she realized she was no longer alone in her tent.  She had attempted to sleep for quite some time and it had not worked.  She lay with a hand beneath her pillow, her body covered in thick sheets.  Her hand beneath the pillow caught a blade beneath it…Probably not safe, but she figured a little cut was worse then being snuck up on.<br/><br/>Finally she heard something.  She would have sworn someone had just sat down beside her bed, but she didn’t open her eyes to betray the fact she was awake and alert.  Her hand upon the blade loosened, if this person had meant to harm her then it would have already been done.  But something else was done.  A massive shield seemed to fall within the room, and she heard a thick accent that was unmistakable.  You didn’t need to hear his voice to know what the accent would sound like.  Her muscles clenched until they cramped, it took everything in her power not to stretch them out.  But when as he spoke, she felt her body enter a state of ease that was rare.<br/><br/>By the time that she had left, tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes.  Tears of just about every emotion a person could feel.  She couldn’t pinpoint which one had the most power at this moment.  Elizabeth sat up and looked at the arrow.  She slowly spun it between her fingers.  Had she not done it, then he would of.  Had that happened, then he would be in jail.  She wasn’t sure who that would effect most…He would be a clear cut target, and she still thought he would kill all the felons who approached him.  She had never believed he didn’t understand the things that she had said to him.  But there was a fleeting feeling of anger, part of the comfort she found in talking to him was in the fact that he would never talk back.  Now he had, and she couldn’t help but to feel thankful.</div></div><br/>For those of you interested to have some relations with Sochi or just come speak to him, just go ahead and PM, that way I can get to cracking in the relations-thread as well.