Jack Sholts
En-Li was a gift--no... a sacrifice. Beauty can do many things, but most of all, it will draw attention, good or bad. En-Li was chosen out of numerous other daughters as a tithe to Lord Malsifa of the Battleship Tempeste Noir. En-Li's delicate, exotic beauty made her Lord Malsifa's "flavor-of-the-month". The young woman became pregnant, but the pregnancy was difficult and strenuous for her slight frame and caused her to become bedridden, and later forgotten by Malsifa. She bore a girl; Taffa, beautiful, fat and healthy, and perfectly lovely. Lord Malsifa was pleased enough and claimed the girl as his own, but, despite En-Li's protests, the newborn was given to one of Malsifa's wives to raise amidst his many other children. She grew up as Malsifa felt female children should grow up, but she was her father's daughter, a disgruntled beauty regardless.

En-Li was no longer favored, no longer in the spotlight and paraded around like a found prize. Weak and sickly from her pregnancy, she was found undesirable by Lord Malsifa who had other, newer girl-tithes to satiate his carnal appetites. En-Li was delegated to cramped quarters in the "Cast-offs" section of the concubine hall. She was watched, however, by one of Malsifa's most trusted commanders. The Lord saw his favored commander's eye follow her, and presented her, on the spot, as a gift for all the commander's past and future services.

Jack was his name. A foreboding man of delicate tastes, he was renown for his use of bladework to get the job done, and his prized collection of antiques. Not attractive in the typical sense, he was too wiry, skin too pale, eyes too piercing and dark. He, however, took En-Li as the gift she was meant to be and ended up loving her.

En-Li's station changed and she was no longer a cast-off, no longer treated like a concubine... or else Jack and his many blades would have something to say about it. They had a few happy years together, until En-Li became pregnant again. Her pregnancy, like her first, was troubled from the start. This time, however, complications ended up killing her.

The babe was born a month too early; skinny, gangly, ugly. It didn't matter; Jack loved his son regardless. He named him Enlie after his mother and raised him on his own. As one of Malsifa's most trusted commanders, Jack had wealth to spare and more besides if he asked for it, so little Enlie wanted for little. Enlie acquired his father's mannerisms, hero-worshiping the man as any boy would do a decent father. Jack taught his son how to wield a blade, how to fight, how to think, how to hunt should survival come down to it. Enlie learned just the right amount of aggressive tactics when negotiating with Skycity captains, and when to back off when the bargain or tithe was just enough or too much. Enlie learned that women shouldn't be used or underestimated, as Malsifa and most of his men did. "No matter how docile they look, women have two hands, Enlie." the Senior Sholts said to him. "That's more than enough to wield a weapon; a knife, a pipe, a fist, doesn't matter." Other times his father would get sad and speak of his mother, or give nostalgic advice. "One day, Enlie, you'll see her and you'll just know... That perfect woman meant to be yours. If you find her, grab onto her quick before anyone else does.... before they steal her light and snuff her out." That kind of advice Little Enlie tended to disregard as his father was usually drunk and slurring by that point.

Years passed and Enlie grew up in almost the spitting image of his father, down to the suit, multi-hidden knives, and sharkskin boots. The only thing different was the relative comeliness (compared to his father). Enlie was enlisted to help Malsifa and given a partner, a SkyCity raised thug named Flenn. Flenn was different. He didn't like women, except his mother, to the degree that he'd never had sex with one. In that respect, he preferred men. Manly men, like himself, where sex was a battle of wills and better if violent, which was also how he lived his life. Flenn was like Fire and Enlie like Ice: A cold, quiet, sour nature versus boiling straightforward violence. Enlie had never met anyone like Flenn before and the two were constantly at odds.

On a mission to bring back a tithe for Malsifa, however, the two were wandering and happened to get lost... right into a group of local thugs. The two men wiped them out. The fight brought the polar opposites together to a respectable understanding, and over the years, with many fights together behind them, it turned to mutual trust.

"As if." Flenn snorted at the snide remark. He wasn't angry at the asshole... didn't mean he wasn't ready to clock the fucker into the ground.

"Yeah--whoa, wait. What's that supposed to mean?" Enlie suddenly interjected, more curious than anything else at the offhanded snub as he looked at Flenn, antagonists momentarily forgotten. "What's wrong with me?" It was an odd moment for anyone within earshot of the two long-time friends, and caused a moment of confusion as the pair's attention was drawn away from the situation at hand to banter with each other.

"You're not my type." Flenn said without feeling, looking at the man and unapologetic. "You always look like you ate something sour or you've got diarrhea and tryin' to hold it back from exploding through your suit and runnin' down your leg into your precious boots."

"Well, you're not my type, either." Enlie countered, almost sounding offended. "And don't talk about the suit and diarrhea in the same sentence. Especially not the boots."

"Hey, assholes, can we get on with this?" Uttered a suddenly annoyed and confused thug-head as he walked up with a metal pipe perforated with thick long spikes.

"I definitely don't prefer sausage for dinner, if you know what I mean. Fish taco all the way."

"Okay, now you're embarrassing yourself. Stop it." Flenn sounded exasperated, but ready to argue with the skinny white boy if he had to. "You're still a virgin, aren't you." Flenn said, uttering what should be strictly taboo.

Now annoyed beyond belief at having been ignored, the thug-head charges, and ends up getting tossed like trash into the ground by one swift punch from Flenn. The man doesn't get back up, and the time it takes the rest of his thugs to react, Enlie has stabbed two and Flenn and knocked out two more.

Once the gang was down, unconscious, dying or dead, Enlie picked up where they'd left off.

"I happen to be very popular with the ladies." Enlie admitted sourly. It was true, though he knew the girls only attempted to flirt and sell their sex appeal in the hopes he'd raise them above their station as prostitutes, servants, whatever.

"Mm-hmm. Stab this fucker, will you?" Flenn said, holding up what remained of a frightened thug-head. With a swift jab, Enlie ended the man's life and Flenn dropped the unwashed carcass like so much garbage.

"You should get laid." Flenn finally said as the pair wiped their hands of the dead and continued on their way through the shadowed grotto. "Here, on this floating pile of junk. Just do it, no attachments.

Enlie cringed. He lived by his father's example and knew his father wouldn't do it. "I don't even want to think about it. All this disease encrusted filth... I'd probably end up dead."

Flenn just shrugged, knowing his partner and his obsession with cleanliness. The skinny man had high standards that couldn't be met. No big deal.

"Let's go get something t'eat." Flenn suddenly said, politely changing the subject.

"God, not more roasted rat. Let's just get back to Malsifa." But Flenn wasn't about to pass up the opportunity, and the pair moved onwards, away from the shadowed depths and towards the stink of the main market.


Jack. had been a powerful and capable man. So when he was discovered on the Tempeste Noir, murdered, Enlie's resolve was to find the killer and destroy them. Enlie's attachment to his father was so tight, that he determined that if he changed his name, his father would, in some way, still be alive. It was also a way, he hoped, to frighten the killer enough into revealing themselves, and, he hoped, that they would attempt to kill him, too.


The clean-shaved, carefully suited man's face darkened. "Jack isn't dead." He said through clenched teeth. "I am Jack."


Appearance: Skinny, lanky body clothed all in carbon-stained hues, not a single stitch out of place or a patch to be seen. Black hair carefully slicked back with hair products, making it shine to perfection. Green-grey eyes shadowed by a pronounced brow that, including the pursed line of his mouth, makes him perpetually sour or angry-looking. He carries several blades on him, his particular favorite a large switchblade. He flicks it in and out when he's bored or anxious.

Personality: Jack has daddy issues. He hates dirt. He hates people. He hates prolonged visits to Malfisa's Cities to gather Tithes. He does enjoy killing people when provoked, but just to prove to himself how much better he is. He figures he's doing what remains of humanity a service anyway. He doesn't have any friends - never has had any. He's only friendly with Flenn because they're partners. He doesn't particularly like his half-sister, either.

Character Goals: Calsi.