[hider=The Team (Grand)Dad][list][*][u]Name[/u]: Duncan MacTyr
[*][u]Age[/u]: Physically? Somewhere in his early twenties. Mentally? [i]One year short of a century.[/i]
[*][u]Gender[/u]: Male
[*][u]Race[/u]: Human
[hider=Appearance][img]https://i.ibb.co/MMtnrnR/fallenknight.jpg[/img]

Unusual amongst those that have been reborn in this land, Duncan's new body... [i]is an almost exact copy of his old one.[/i] Albeit, restored to it's prime; The wear-lines, wrinkles and liver spots having seemingly melted away to make room for the dense, compact but incredibly [i]powerful[/i] kind of musculature that comes from a life of hard exertion, and not a gym— Enough to give him an imposing figure, even without the sheer bulk of a bodybuilder, and even while standing at a relatively average 5'8". His short cut of shock white hair, likewise, has been restored to it's more youthful brown, with bits of red that become more obvious in certain lighting, especially on his... actually quite handsome face in the early mornings or when he's too busy to shave. With the only real hint of his true age being the in the way he carries himself, or in the weathered gleam in his green eyes.

Curiously, many mementos of his old life have also carried over into this one as well; old battle scars— the most obvious being a long mark left by shrapnel going vertically along his left cheek— and faded tattoos on his shoulders and forearms still marking and marring his flesh as they did before. Whether this is simple coincidence or by the design of whoever brought them all here, he doesn't know for sure— but he isn't exactly to broken up about it, especially considering how [i]dramatically[/i] those around him have changed in their 'rebirth'.[/hider]   
[hider=Personality] Stoic, but not in the way espoused by people with Greco-Roman statues as profile pictures on YouTube. More in that Duncan possesses a remarkable amount of control over himself; being only very rarely frightened nor angry with the people around him and possessing an [i]uncanny[/i] amount of patience. This, however, does not mean that the man is some kind of impermeable rock devoid of humour and emotion, and if sufficiently prompted— or more alarmingly, sometimes when [i]not.—[/i] release a [b]devastatingly destructive[/b] barb or joke potent enough to cause a snort or spit-take in even the most hardened of hearts and in life, he was known to have a soft spot for kids; and wasn't even particularly shy about it either.

Of himself, however, he rarely speaks. Though he always listens when asked (and sometimes when not). The latter, because of all the friends he has outlived, far too many have gone prematurely, even after the guns fell silent. And the former? Well...

Throughout the Second World War and his time in Korea, Duncan has seen and come to know [i]true evil[/i] in a way few others can and the very [i]worst[/i] of what mankind is capable of doing to another. And is in no real rush to dump the kinds of things he's seen and done onto a younger audience, willing or not. And quite frankly, would probably prefer the rest not to know about that part of his life altogether.

...But would unquestioningly fight like the third monkey on the ramp to Noah's Ark to never see those evils repeated again.[/hider]      
[Hider=History]Born in Northern Ontario in the February of 1925, Duncan's early life was... by no means a fairy tale, but also not particularly special for the time; the fifth of seven children but one of only two to survive a nasty outbreak of tuberculosis that took the rest of his siblings as well as his father. Which would lead to him finding employment at the age of ten at a local lumber mill to support his older sister— Abigail— and mother. The latter of whom would simply pack up her bags and leave without a word one day, leaving her two children to fend for themselves. Still, Abby and Duncan found a way to make it work, not least of all through help from their neighbours, a few trappers from a nearby reserve who'd been friends with his father, who were quite keen on making sure they at least wouldn't go hungry and a local priest who'd made sure the pair were educated— albeit, [i]in French—[/i] and made sure they always had a good Christmas.

Then 1939, things... [i]happened[/i] in Europe. And our boy Duncan, then aged fourteen, seeing how much more a soldier got paid than he did pushing brooms and sharpening saws at the mill, did something [i]incredibly goddamn stupid—[/i]

He lied about his age. [b]And joined the Army.[/b] Where for the next five years, he would man guns and fight fires during the Blitz, survive the disastrous raid on Dieppe, fight a brutal campaign up the Italian Peninsula, storm the beaches of Normandy and live the absolute carnage of the Scheldt. Sending the lion's share of his pay home to his sister and ending the war as a Sergeant at just 19; partly to his merit, partly because after a certain point, he'd become one of the most senior men left in his Company with four limbs and a pulse.

Seemed to impress [i]somebody,[/i] however, as he was offered a full scholarship to the Royal Military College in Kingston afterward. Which he accepted and which would lead to him being deployed to Korea five years later as Lieutenant and second in command to a specialized assault company. Which of course, would lead Duncan to get into a whole new set of tough scrapes, one of which (a landmine north of Seoul) would land him in a hospital bed in Tokyo, where he'd meet Dr. Ryuuji Takeda— the son of a wealthy diplomat who'd served as a medic during the last war— with whom he'd form an unlikely, but enduring friendship that would last all the way into the modern day; writing eachother often and visiting whenever their schedules allowed. A tradition that carried on down to the families the two started an ocean apart.

Duncan, for his part, would go on to have a son with a nurse from Montreal he'd met during his first outing with the Army. Whom he would sadly outlive, losing her to breast cancer in '76, but would go on to raise his boy as best he could. Before finally retiring from The Service a decade later with a full pension to spend more time with the grandchildren his son very clumsily informed him were on the way. The eldest of which (his granddaughter) would deploy to Afghanistan and rather emphatically display that the propensity for kicking ass was [i]very goddamn hereditary.[/i] His grandson, on the other hand, would go overseas to Japan to work as an English Teacher, staying with Ryuuji and his family in Hokkaido.

...Where he almost [i]immediately[/i] married Ryuuji's granddaughter. The news of which was met with equal parts laughter and profanity because Duncan could almost [i]swear[/i] that old sonuvabitch had [b][i]planned that from the beginning.[/i][/b] And quickly made plans to go visit.

Plans that would go... [i]unfulfilled[/i] for nearly four years. As, by this point, [i]Duncan was an old man.[/i] One who had fought two wars, been shot, stabbed, shelled, bombed and exposed to [i]god-knows-what[/i] kind of chemicals over his long career; his insurance company flatly [i]refused[/i] to go anywhere [i]near[/i] an airplane. Something that left a [i]very[/i] bitter taste in the old man's mouth, especially with the birth of his great grandson. And things would carry on as such until one day, he received a phonecall from his granddaughter-in-law—

Ryuuji, his best and, well, [i]only[/i] friend he had left in the world was [i]dying.[/i]

While he was trapped an ocean away, unable to even see his grandson, or his grandson's child because his insurance company was absolutely [i]petrified[/i] at the idea of having to pay out on a policy as old as his— nevermind that at [b][i]99 years old,[/i][/b] he didn't exactly have a lot of gas left in the tank anyhow.

So he snapped.

Made sure his will was in good order.

Then called up that snarky lady from the insurance company with a military lawyer present to goad her to the usual point of the conversation where she threatened to [i]physically prevent[/i] him from leaving, at which point said lawyer cut in to threaten the mother of all lawsuits and inform her that the Department of National Defense would [i]absolutely[/i] make the time for a retired Brigadier. Which prompted her to start swearing— which was honestly a mistake on her part— as Duncan had nearly a [i]century[/i] of practice on her and was [i][b]much better at it[/b][/i] than she was.

That done, he bought a ticket. Flew himself out to Japan, spent the whole day with his great grandson— the younger 'Ryuuji'—, carried him to bed, tucked him in, told him a story and spent the rest of the evening drinking one last bottle of whiskey with the elder Ryuuji.     

Two days later, Duncan was on a plane going home. Looking out the window and very much aware that one way or another, this would likely be the last time he ever got this kind of view of the Ocean. He supposed that he should should be sad, or at least melancholy... but he couldn't find it in himself to be. He had got to meet his own great grandson— see him happy, healthy and loved. See his best friend one last time. Got to finally try his granddaughter-in-law's cooking he'd heard so much about, [i]and[/i] see her start bouncing up and down like a giddy schoolgirl when she learned she was pregnant again the morning before he left. 

He was... [i]fulfilled.[/i]  

Which was why Duncan didn't kick up much of a fuss as the plane came to it's final, unfortunate destination— though he did summon what strength was left in his old bones to shield the girl sitting next to him from the glass of the window shattering next to them.

...Though even Duncan had to admit, what happened next was a [i]a bit of a new one, even for him.[/i][/hider]  


[*][u]Level[/u]: 1
[*][u]Stats[/u]:
[list][*][u]STR[/u]: 3.
[*][u]DEX[/u]: 2.
[*][u]MAG[/u]: 1.
[*][u]DEF[/u]: 3. 
[*][u]RES[/u]: 3.
[*][u]AGI[/u]: 2.
[*][u]LCK[/u]: 1.[/list]
[*][u]Skills[/u]:
[list][*][u]Skill Name[/u]: Last Man Standing
[*][u]Skill Description[/u]: [i]"A warrior does not grow old by accident."[/i] (Passive. +1 DEF, +2 RES)[/list]
[*][u]Other[/u]: Anything else of note? Put it here.[/list][/hider]