I wrote up an origin story for a character that me and a friend made for an upcoming game, she's new to tabletop RPGs, but very good at RPing on its own. I'm posting it here for general interest and also because I'm a little unsure that I'm staying accurate to the Yakuza as written.

Here it is.

Leona Stark was always attracted to trouble. Or maybe trouble was attracted to her. Growing up in Detroit, she was an Ares kid. She chose to interpret that as Ares the god of war, not the megacorp. As a child, she fought with other kids, winning over older kids and looking out for those who couldn't defend themselves. As a teenager, she would spend her weekends sparring with virtual instructors and cutting down her opponents in games of martial skill. Her father enrolled her in a Knight Errant training program to channel her aggression into a more profitable outlet, like security. She went along with it, finding the skills they taught her and the implants they gave her to be very rewarding. Yet somehow, she felt there was more to gain. Age 21, she started to diversify, learning the critical art of bodyguarding. She elected for several concealed implants that would allow her to surprise any who dared to attack her client. Dermal plating, tailored pheromones, even an implanted squirt gun in her mouth. Publicly, she seemed exactly what she appeared to be. A young, attractive human woman who could blend into a crowd, or draw attention away from her client if need be. But any who tried to engage her were quickly cut down by her concealed blades, with not a single drop of blood spilled anywhere near her charge. She was content.

But like every other dream in the Sixth World, it had to end. The Crash 2.0. A year before the event, her father confessed he'd been making a deal with a Yakuza gumi in the area, selling off corporate secrets for protection from their thugs. The revelation destroyed her fragile worldview. Overnight, she realised that any corporation can be undone by its employees, corruption reaching down to the core. Outwardly, she condoned her father's actions, accepting his excuse that it was to protect himself and her mother. But she couldn't deny that he'd profited greatly from his betrayal, showing off his shiny new Toyota and other toys. She kept up the lies for twelve months, before resolving to report her father to her superiors. But it was too late. He had given the Yakuza a passcode for a vital financial host, in return for a promised extraction somewhere else in the country. But when the Yak deckers were unable to get into the grid, they blamed him. The Crash had brought down the entire Matrix, scorching the deckers and trapping several online. Those that weren't trapped ended up flatlined. So they came for Leona's parents to exact revenge for his 'trick'. They took his wife's fingers right in front of him, demanding the code as he sneered at them, while civilisation collapsed around them. When Leona found them, her mother was dead and her father in the hands of the Yaks. She cut them down in rage and confronted her father who professed innocence. She cut him down too, then threw her forearm snap-blades down in disgust, leaving her home in tears to watch planes fall out of the sky.

Months later, she found herself in Seattle, the shadowrunning capital of the world. Her old job at Ares was finished, her SIN lost in the Crash. As the world began to rebuild itself, she did the same. If not for the Yakuza. They found out who was responsible for the deaths in Detroit and tracked her down for retribution. A mage restrained her with a spell as they began their grisly work. They were ordered simply to end her life, but took the opportunity to inflict their sadistic whims upon her first, to send a message to those who would strike down a Yakuza.


Leona was bound tight with magic as she lapsed in and out of consciousness. Her arms lay in front of her, along with her fingers and hands, then her forearms. It was all she could do to hold her head up with all the blood she'd lost, not to mention the dull ache throughout what was left of her limbs. Her kidnappers had left her with little more than stumps from her shoulders. Already they had given her a trauma patch to keep her awake. The mage was working hard to keep her alive too, sealing up the horrific wounds with a spell. She couldn't speak, but could understand what her captors were saying as they decided what to take next. She was all but hopeless, unable to so much as wriggle out of the binding spell as they looked over her like a piece of meat. There was only one thing Leona could do now. She closed her eyes, and started to pray. Before she could so much as murmur the first word, a distant roar sounded throughout the small warehouse she was held in. It sounded animalistic and enraged as the mage gasped and gestured at nothing in particular over their heads. The air shimmered and wavered into a translucent form, that of a tall woman with wispy legs, draped in clouds. One man fired into the apparition and gave a cry of despair as his shots had no effect. The wind woman surged into the man, knocking him to the ground as a towering mass of stone materialised in the air and joined the engagement alongside the airy woman. The roar sounded again, echoing through the empty room before a door at the opposite end slammed open. A heavyset man stood there and glared at the remaining Yakuza before charging into the melee like a wild beast. Leona was on the edge of passing out from the pain, her eyelids slowly closing over her cybereyes. The last thing she saw before the darkness engulfed her was the wild man walking over to her, revealing his troll's horns and faintly glowing eyes.


Leona awoke with a start surrounded by darkness. She instantly recognised the familiar state of her eyes in standby and mentally triggered them to display vision. A stark white light greeted her and she unconsciously blinked as her eyes instantly adjusted. She lifted her head and took a look over her body, expecting the worst. As she lifted the sheet covering her to peek under, she gave a gasp at the hand holding the sheet. It was the same colour as her skin and matched her body perfectly. But it wasn't hers. She lifted her arms and looked over them, closely examining the shoulders where she saw a cyberlimb anchor joint. Someone had given her new arms, with synthetic skin covering. A doctor came in as a nearby autodoc drone reported she was conscious.
"Ah, hello, miss Hastings. How are you feeling?"
She continued staring at the new prostheses, noticing the fake name he'd called her. "My... arms... what happened?"
"You were in a a terrible accident, it seems. Luckily for you, a good Samaritan brought you in, a shaman apparently. He did his best to keep you alive and we finished the job. You'd be dead if not him, you know." The doctor gave her his best reassuring smile.
"Where am I?"
"You're in a DocWagon hospital, in Downtown Seattle, to be exact. You're wearing the very latest in customised cybernetic prosthetics. Spinrad Industries SuperDec model, I'm told. You're a very lucky woman, miss Hastings. Your employer clearly cares for you a great deal." He gave another smile and she could hear the jealousy tinge his voice during that last sentence.
"That shaman's still here, if you'd like to thank him. Shall I let him in?"
She took a moment to absorb the information and nodded. The doctor left without another word and left her alone for a few minutes. She tried to remember what had happened to her and noticed the date on her image link. June 20th, 2068. She'd been unconscious for days. The last thing she saw had been a bear of a man throwing Yakuza mooks around like they were pillows. He even roared like a grizzly. She looked up as that same man walked in now, ducking his head under the doorway. He was huge. She sized him up and guessed he must be nearly 3 metres tall. His thick arms hung down to his thighs and his thin black hair was parted by short horns that curled around his ears. All the features you'd expect from a troll. She spoke first, "I owe you my thanks. You saved my life. What's your name?"
He walked over to the bed, offered his surprisingly slim hand and gave a warm smile, speaking in a European accent, "My name is Ben Kirche. It means.... church."
She took his hand in her new cybernetic one and returned the smile.
"Church. I'm Leona. Leona Stark," she thought for a moment before continuing,

"...It means trouble... It means... Strife."


The daughter of war and the giant with a bear in his heart. It's more than a job to them.

It's a way of life. It's survival. It's revenge. It's atonement.
It's what they do.

Opinions very welcome.