Ian Sansouci

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Fictional Biography

Please note, that at any moment, your head could explode in confusion.

I am the son of a psychic and a redwood tree. As much as I'd love to tell the truth, this isn't metaphorical. I have a love for the outdoors for a reason. I withhold no feelings toward trees except for the fact that they are targets to any form of swordplay I wish to perform with what I'm holding at the moment. Most of the time it's other tree parts I've salvaged from fallen foes. Meanwhile, I have a federal agency looking into my lineage on my mother's side, as it was recently discovered that I am a descendant from Salem, Mass. Which can only mean one thing. Some have claimed to my history that either we're brother/sister or I'm Ali's long lost great grandchild…1I'm pretty sure it's only an acquaintance between the two families, if anything, but if there is a relation between my bloodline and that of hers, that would certainly answer many questions.

Among a few things of note, my heritage has allowed me to grasp the art of channeling spirit energy. Not to be confused with witchcraft, I can use my own spirit force to manipulate physical condition. So far, I only test on myself as to not harm my dear friends. I find the process far too draining to attempt more than three channels a day. So far, I am able to replenish my endurance and stamina, such as with recovering from a long sprint, I can store energy, like consuming a high energy drink without the actual drink, and manipulate internal temperatures, easily adjusting to heat and cold in extreme conditions, Hence why I'm walking outside in a T-Shirt at night after "Brawl Night" in 42ºF weather and I feel fine enough to walk home and enjoy the brisk midnight breeze.

I'm not normal, I've accepted that. I can sneak up to people at whim and "Shazoop" between targets, standing inches from them, taking them sometimes minutes before they notice me. My traits and talents would offer me a great position as a spy in any group, however to most I am known by another title. I am known simply as "The Narrator". A writer by nature, I conjure up story and song at whim, dictating the events unfolding before me. Some try to kill me, as to attempt to kill the "Plot" through me. What they don't know is who I work for. I am a Dark Angel of PLOT, an agent of its discretion. One can remove me only if it deems my removal necessary, and as of this current moment, I am under the impression it enjoys my encounters with others, and the stories that spring from them.

I work for many factions on this surface world, but our PLOT2 is our true master. All will follow it eventually.

Personal (Real) Biography

It all started roughly twenty-one years ago… but I can't remember that far back, so I'll give you the cliffnotes. I was born in Waterville, Maine, moved down to a small town called Gardiner, located near Hallowell and Augusta, lived there until I was about seven. Around that time, my parents divorced and my Dad left, living roughly ten miles away. At that time I was in joint custody, and tried to spend time with both adults, my mother having the cool, gentle bravado of single-parenting as if it came second nature, and my father having the outgoing, pristine and ideal father-son relationship I could have only daydreamed. While other dads and their sons played baseball in the front yard, He and I were playing the Legend of Zelda, watching Emmitt Smith reign supreme on the Dallas Cowboys NFL team, and bought Burger King's French Toast Sticks and ate them in front of the Augusta Airport, watching the planes go by. Looking back, those were the best days I ever spent with my dad, and it's on my to-do list for when he moves back up to Maine, if not, visits. But I digress, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I moved from Gardiner to my grandparent's house in So. China, Maine. It was fun ever since then, saying this. As an acquaintance of mine once said about having the same experience (folks living there), she could convince others she was Chinese. Either way, my experience there was… pressured, but I don't regret living there. With a grandmother once school-teacher and her neighborhood image on the line, I had to uphold good grades and behavior, though at that age, I didn't fully understand why. It was here I remember myself being bullied for the first time. The O'Brians. Those twin boys were more trouble for me than a hand-grenade without a pin hidden in a package on Christmas day. I only ever thwarted them once. They cornered me for my home-made popcorn and foot-by-the-foot, my usual recess snack. Backing into a corner (literally, there was a metal baseball-field fence, I swear!), my only idea at the time was to kick swiftly at the center target's chest (as now their cousin joined in) and run for it. Unfortunately, my kick came a bit too far in, and I caught the boy in the groin. I managed the desired effect though. A few days later, they beat me to a bloody pulp outside my own home, leaving me there immobile until my mom got back from her walk. The longest twenty minutes I ever spent laying in the grass. No stitches, but at least it finally got the message across to my mother that those boys were bad news. Ironically, Gram and her image… Days after that, I had to walk over, get apologized to, apologize for the groin-shot, and watch TV with them, as if we were all buddy-buddies. Anyway…

Afterwards, My mother found a place in Cumberland, and I would be attending school in Greeley. About this time, my Father has re-married, and right around then, my Grandfather, whom I've failed to mention 'til now, has passed away. It's shocking that these two subjects have been on the back burner all this time, as both are jawing changes to my life beyond comprehension. My Step-Mother, who will remain nameless like the rest of my family, I thought of at first as a complete Drill Sargent. Ironically enough, she was. Retired from the military, with three of her won children to her name. Well, it wasn't until years later she and I came to an understanding about the tough-love she dished out, but from what I know, she treated me as one of her own. Unbiased and Undisciplined. I only agreed with one rule she had, which was that you never start a fight, but if you're struck first, finish it and fight back. She encouraged self-defense combat, because walking away and tattle-tailing won't teach the bully anything except that you're an easy target. It's a lesson I plan on passing down to my little girl, in fact. Secondly, my Grand-Father is by far the best person I have ever known. Kind-hearted, lovable, jolly and compassionate doesn't even scratch the surface of this man's emotional aptitude. His sense of humor was amazing, as he knew exactly what to say to make a seven-year-old laugh and light up with joy. (Mostly the fact that the mushrooms on that delivery pizza were poisonous.) He, of all people, kept me tethered to the real world, knowing he was going to be my constant in life. I love him dearly to this day, and when I read and write about him, I feel him over my shoulder, smiling joyfully behind me. He died in April 1998, after fighting cancer for five years. The cancer he was fighting had come out with proven treatments to reverse and help cure the effects a year later.

Now, in Cumberland, I met a plethora of people, but the few of note are Thaddeus Walk, Aaron Mitchell, Tony Cleveland, Casey Ginn, and to some extent, Justin Barker and Dylan Sauerwald. Tony and Casey were neighbors and forefathers to my world. They helped create the founding universe where my book series "Chronicles of Dragonia" is to take place. I owe them a copy of the first book, regardless of what my future agent says. That, and I owe another copy to Tad, who has been a great and noble friend since the day we met. He was such an important friend, a main character in the series is specifically named after him in his honor. Aaron Mitchell kept my imagination constantly flowing, moving with new ideas, to which I'm grateful. Though my friends of great importance ended there, later on, my acquaintance of Justin would come into direct play to the present day, where distant memories founded a brighter friendship I couldn't have even begun to imagine back then. To this day though, my last friend of Greeley, Dylan, is lost in the sea of people in the United States, his whereabouts unknown. Wherever he is now, I wish him the best of luck.

Well, things happened, those five years I lived in Cumberland. It was quite… awkward. I had bullies twice as many as I had friends. Eventually, I just cracked and became a bully myself, but it didn't last long. They would just continue to enrage me because they thought it was funny one scrawny kid could get so upset over nothing. Eventually, I moved in the eighth grade… but not directly to the new town, New Gloucester. I moved there after a month… one day, something happened at home, that everyone else made a huge fuss over. I was struck by my mother in an attempt to smarten my mouth. Having finally had it with my mother's insistant nagging, I mentioned how I would run away, just to get away from her. I saw her preparing to strike and shielded myself. I didn't see the attack, but I felt contact. This was discussed in detail as I mentioned this to an audience and jury in a court of law against my mother after my father filed a Protection against Abuse order. Age 13 and swearing on the book. Not one of my happiest memories. My mom, to the much dismay of the opposing side, was sentenced Not Guilty, and was free of charges.

There's only one quote from that day on that rings in my mind. Possibly my only regret. The words of my step-mother through the phone, on the verge of yelling, "You give your mother a second chance to be your parent when you haven't given your father any chances at all?" …

I don't suppose many could understand, listening to their father almost crying on one end, thinking he's losing their son, a second voice on another phone of a towering voice, accusing in a commanding voice the absurdities of my decisions… and my mother helplessly watching me try to combat the the three of them, trying to explain how I had come to the conclusion of deciding to live with my mom.

We moved to New Gloucester, to avoid any attempts at kidnapping. From my own family. We were running away together, from my own family. I want to stress how absolutely screwed up my life is at this point in time. I come to this town, a rival to Greeley, the Gray-New Gloucester School District. Having a large choice in the matter, of picking the school before moving to a house, of all the places… I couldn't have been more lucky to end up with such a great group of people.

This is where I met most of the group, mind you, not how they are now, but still. Ali, Katie, Jen, John, and my best friend Will, especially, as well as many many many other acquaintances. In just four short years, I attained an entire school spectrum of experiences. My first love, my first break-up, my first detention, school friend cliques and rivalries, by then the bullies were second nature, and dealing with them, though scarier when pinned against a concrete wall with a senior-grade football jockey, I could handle… for the most part. Graduating there felt like no easy task, but eventually, I came through.

After attending Central Maine Community College, pursuing an Associates Degree in Liberal Arts, well… Life there becomes a bit personal. I can say though that Will was still a constant during my time there, and with our roommate and dear, unforgettable friend Rory, I don't think I could have had a better time. After that and a semester off chilling on the sidelines, that pretty much sums up to the present day.

Enough about history, this is who I really am. I'm tired, experienced and mature, partly cynical and I view life antagonistically. I live a life where my friend's life comes first. I try to be caring and I look to my friends constantly for support while I try to do my best to lend a dry shoulder wherever tears are falling. I find myself very concealed when it comes to my emotions, but the one bursting at the seams with anticipation is desire and hopes for a significant other in the future, nearer the better. My luck with females tends to be… rather bad, however. Did I mention the bullies at Greeley were 60% female? The guys beat the snot out of me, but the girls could play a mean mind-game, using the old cloak-and-dagger tactics. (Those unfamiliar, consider yourselves blessed, but normally, these tactics are the type where you gather information about a target, and then stab them in the back by distorting and spreading it around as fast as possible.)

As my character from CoD would probably describe me best, I am "A healer who has lost the ability to heal himself".

Statistical Stuffs

  • Gender: Male
  • Birth Date: February 18th, 1988
  • Height: Roughly 5' 10"
  • Weight: About 142 lbs
  • Eye Color: Brown
  • Hair Color: Dark Brown
  • Facial Hair: Goatee + Mustache
  • Favorite Class: Astronomy
  • Favorite Color: Green
  • Favorite Diplomat: President Ronald Reagan
  • Favorite Drink: Moxie
  • Favorite Flavor: Vanilla
  • Favorite Food: Pasta
  • Favorite Fruit: Cherry
  • Favorite Veggie: Asparagus
This O/R That
  • Cake or Pie: Pie
  • Cookies or Brownies: Brownies
  • Light or Dark: Light
  • Soda or Coffee: Coffee
  • McDonalds or Burger King: … Under Review… (Bad McD. Experience in Baltimore….)
  • Obama or McCain: 5th Amendment wins here.
  • Fiction or Non-Fiction: Fiction
  • Science or English: English
  • Math or History: Math
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