SkallyWag
New Member
Contact Info ; AIM = SkallyWag19 (Some of you might remember me, I rather doubt it...)
Name ; Yamashita Masato
Age ; 240, Appears to be about 19..
Persona ; A happy-go-lucky soul with a semi-troubled past, Masato could have gone far in both life and unlife if he could havea just worked up the effort to do so. As lazy as a fat cat on a hot summer day, he spends most of his time sleeping, drinking, or gambling. He stays away from women, although whether it's due to shyness or if he already knows who his 'special someone' is, no one can tell. Masato has a gift for being laid-back, and would gladly spend most of his day asleep - although he is troubled by nightmares of fierce battles... He has a thing for Classic Rock, AC/DC in particular.
Physical Stature ; Standing at just under 6', Masato is tall for a native Japanese. The tall jap has a high forehead and a jawline sharp enough to shave with. His hair is a medium-length scruff of dirty blond hair that brushes his shoulders, and his bangs have a knack of covering his eyes. A pair of professional, rectangular sunglasses keeps his eyes covered almost 24/7, but behind the dark lenses a pair of brilliant green eyes observes the world with a merry twinkle. When it comes to build, a "medium-weight" would almost be pushing it - Even though he's tall, the sandy-haired jap (Remarkable on it's own) weighs in at 145, very slimly muscled. A small goatee sports his chin, although it's just one step ahead of peach fuzz. Masato is almost never seen without a pack of cigarettes and a flask of some alcohol or another.
Biography ; Masato can't remember anything about when he was truly alive, except small bits and fragments - a nice house, a loving family, a fight with his parents about college, then a fire...and nothing. He does have one distinct and solid memory, but he knows not where it originated...Snowy, lovely, angelic, pure white hair.
He woke up in a richer district in Soul Society, and was promptly adopted by a rich, though not noble, family - The Yamashita Clan. The Yamashitas are renowned for being 'one step up from peasant stock', as they are descended from merchants - and good ones. Taking advantage of this, The lucky blond stayed true to his nature - Do nothing, sleep, eat, drink and gamble his through life. The clan dealt with his nature for as long as they could stand it, then hatched a plan.
One night, a group of shinigami from the 2nd Division sneaked in to the house, grabbed Masato, and carried him off to Seireitei - as the Head of the Family had planned. Masato spent 14 years in Academy - having to make up several years for being such a lazy bum, and finally graduated with decent - if not the best in class - grades in Kidou.
'Shades', as he was nicknamed (for his distinctive eyeware), was promptly adopted in to the 4th Division, where a stern regimen would - hopefully - keep him in line.
Zanpakutou: A rapier, with a plain hilt wrapped in leather, and a round guard. The blade is about as wide as two fingers pressed against eachother (width-wise), and tapers to a sharp point about 3 feet away. Three curving lines vaguely suggestive of an hourglass can be found etched in, near the tip of the blade. The scabbard is black, hangs on Masato's left hip (as he's right-handed), and is decorated with yellow muscial notes.
Stats:
Reiatsu: 100
Zanjutsu: 20
Hakuda: 5
Hohou: 30
Kidou: 45
[ Yakekoge - Hadou #1, 10 Kidou ]
[ Byakurai - Hadou #4, 25 Kidou ]
[ EMPTY SLOT ]
Connection: 0
Sample Chapter ; The Day Before, and The Day After
Word Count ; 1,071
There’s a lady who’s sure
All that glitters is gold,
And she’s buying a stairway to heaven...
"OI! MASATO! WAKE UP!”
The young man yawned, stretched, pulled his sunglasses out of the pocket in his hakama and slapped them on his face. Then he opened his eyes and looked around, blearily. It was the same shady tree, the same grassy park, the same empty bottle of sake lying next to him on the floor. His zanpaku was a few feet over to his right, just outside the shade of tree. There were times and places to do all things, but it was certainly not the time to get up and get his sword. The blondie cursed, reached up and scratched his head, and peered at the bull of a man standing at the other end of the fairly small park.
Sabatini was Italian, and he was the better part of seven feet tall, a solid 290 pounds of raw muscle, and was a junior officer in the 4th Squad of Seireitei, in charge of healing – and keeping Masato out of trouble. He now glowered at the hungover kid as he fumbled around his hakama, finally pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He watched Masato pull one out, mutter a few words under his breath, and light the smoke on a small flame that burst out of his fingers.
Rather ostentatiously, Masato sucked on the smoke for a second, then blew a small stream of carcinogens in a quick little puff towards his officer, interposing the flame on the way. He severed the reiatsu keeping the flame burning skillfully, just as the smoke blew over it, and the flame blew itself out.
Let’s see me try to have done that last night...
With a grumble, knowing that he was going to get chewed out – no doubt the barroom brawl had already been reported – Masato stumbled to his feet, stepped gingerly over to his sword, and fell over when he bent to pick it up. After a couple of muttered profanities, he grabbed it, crawled his way back to verticality, and sauntered over to the seething Sabatini.
"Would you like to tell me what happened last night, Yamashita!?” Sabatini roared, all but knocking the would-be healer back to the floor.
"Well...”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Cheater! That Ace was up your sleeve!”
The woman who screamed at him had a pierced nose, eyebrow, and a large snake-fang hanging from an ear as a necklace. She was covered in muscle, and more than scary enough for Masato.
The teenager shrugged meekly.
"I’ll give you your money back?” Masato said, as he threw back a shot of scotch-his preferred drink.
"Not good enough now, sparky! Draw steel!” She scramed, hopping to her feet and pulling forth a heavy medieval broadsword. Masato cringed, and slowly reached for a bottle of booze, never taking his eyes off the large cow.
This is why I stay away from women...
With a deceptive speed, Masato threw the liquor bottle at the woman, even as he threw himself back in the chair, knocking it over, and rolling – albeit clumsily – to his feet, drawing his rapier of a sword. A loud curse echoed through the now cheering bar as the brute of a female blocked the bottle with her sword, the bottle smashing and covering the blade, and her in some amber liquid or another.
With an agility born of desperation-how on Earth could he even think to take on a woman twice his weight without being broken like a toothpick anyways-Masato snapped his left hand up, and lifted his index and middle finger, together, and pointed them at his opponent, as she charged him.
"Converge light into spaces of darkness, Hadou #4, Byaku-" Too late, the woman grabbed his hand with one meaty fist and punched him full in the face with the hilt of her sword. For once, though, the drunk’s combat training in the Academy proved useful, as he rolled with the blow and ended up several feet away from the woman. Trying another tactic, he thrust at a bottle of vodka, smashing the bottle. And covering his own blade in alcohol.
Flammable alcohol.
Lifting his fingers again, he muttered the incantation under his breath, even as he stared the brute of a woman – smiling at the hit she scored on the cheating filth that was Masato.
"Ignite and thrive. Hadou #1, Yakekoge!” The flame erupted from his fingers. Being careful to keep his left hand away from the blade, Masato measured the woman up, took a careful step forward...
And lunged toward her. With an almost contemptuous ease, the ugly cow caught the thrust, took a step forward, and suddenly the slim and small Masato was pitting his strength against that of Hulk Hogan’s sister. Just before he was forced to take a step back, he pressed his lit fingers against his blade, and pushed forward with a surge of strength.
The rapier instantly caught flame, and the woman jumped back in surprise – Before she could recover from the shock, the tip of the thin blade was menacing her throat, less than an inch away, as the small red mark (where her skin had been singed) could testify. The woman stepped backwards, admitted defeat, just as the bartender broke a bottle on Masato’s head, and the rest of the shinigami in the fine establishment threw the bull-woman out.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"So you lit your sword on fire to win a fight against a woman the size of William Refrigerator Perry? Because you were cheating when you were gambling?” Sabatini’s face was beat red, and Masato was idly amused at the thought of steam coming out of his ears, like one of those old Looney Tune cartoons.
"You have 3 days worth of paperwork to sign, kitchens and bathrooms to clean, and Zanjutsu, Hohou and Kidou exercises to do. Hop to, Yamashita Masato of the 4th Division. Before I show you what a REAL fight is like!” The Italian snarled, and stomped off.
Taking one last puff on the smoke, Masato sighed, flicked the butt away, turned around, and laid back down underneath the tree. The young man pulled a flask out of his hakama, unscrewed the lid, and had a nice, long guzzle. The work could wait until that afternoon, he decided as he put his hands behind his head, to cushion it, and closed his eyes...
Or maybe until tomorrow...
Name ; Yamashita Masato
Age ; 240, Appears to be about 19..
Persona ; A happy-go-lucky soul with a semi-troubled past, Masato could have gone far in both life and unlife if he could havea just worked up the effort to do so. As lazy as a fat cat on a hot summer day, he spends most of his time sleeping, drinking, or gambling. He stays away from women, although whether it's due to shyness or if he already knows who his 'special someone' is, no one can tell. Masato has a gift for being laid-back, and would gladly spend most of his day asleep - although he is troubled by nightmares of fierce battles... He has a thing for Classic Rock, AC/DC in particular.
Physical Stature ; Standing at just under 6', Masato is tall for a native Japanese. The tall jap has a high forehead and a jawline sharp enough to shave with. His hair is a medium-length scruff of dirty blond hair that brushes his shoulders, and his bangs have a knack of covering his eyes. A pair of professional, rectangular sunglasses keeps his eyes covered almost 24/7, but behind the dark lenses a pair of brilliant green eyes observes the world with a merry twinkle. When it comes to build, a "medium-weight" would almost be pushing it - Even though he's tall, the sandy-haired jap (Remarkable on it's own) weighs in at 145, very slimly muscled. A small goatee sports his chin, although it's just one step ahead of peach fuzz. Masato is almost never seen without a pack of cigarettes and a flask of some alcohol or another.
Biography ; Masato can't remember anything about when he was truly alive, except small bits and fragments - a nice house, a loving family, a fight with his parents about college, then a fire...and nothing. He does have one distinct and solid memory, but he knows not where it originated...Snowy, lovely, angelic, pure white hair.
He woke up in a richer district in Soul Society, and was promptly adopted by a rich, though not noble, family - The Yamashita Clan. The Yamashitas are renowned for being 'one step up from peasant stock', as they are descended from merchants - and good ones. Taking advantage of this, The lucky blond stayed true to his nature - Do nothing, sleep, eat, drink and gamble his through life. The clan dealt with his nature for as long as they could stand it, then hatched a plan.
One night, a group of shinigami from the 2nd Division sneaked in to the house, grabbed Masato, and carried him off to Seireitei - as the Head of the Family had planned. Masato spent 14 years in Academy - having to make up several years for being such a lazy bum, and finally graduated with decent - if not the best in class - grades in Kidou.
'Shades', as he was nicknamed (for his distinctive eyeware), was promptly adopted in to the 4th Division, where a stern regimen would - hopefully - keep him in line.
Zanpakutou: A rapier, with a plain hilt wrapped in leather, and a round guard. The blade is about as wide as two fingers pressed against eachother (width-wise), and tapers to a sharp point about 3 feet away. Three curving lines vaguely suggestive of an hourglass can be found etched in, near the tip of the blade. The scabbard is black, hangs on Masato's left hip (as he's right-handed), and is decorated with yellow muscial notes.
Stats:
Reiatsu: 100
Zanjutsu: 20
Hakuda: 5
Hohou: 30
Kidou: 45
[ Yakekoge - Hadou #1, 10 Kidou ]
[ Byakurai - Hadou #4, 25 Kidou ]
[ EMPTY SLOT ]
Connection: 0
Sample Chapter ; The Day Before, and The Day After
Word Count ; 1,071
There’s a lady who’s sure
All that glitters is gold,
And she’s buying a stairway to heaven...
"OI! MASATO! WAKE UP!”
The young man yawned, stretched, pulled his sunglasses out of the pocket in his hakama and slapped them on his face. Then he opened his eyes and looked around, blearily. It was the same shady tree, the same grassy park, the same empty bottle of sake lying next to him on the floor. His zanpaku was a few feet over to his right, just outside the shade of tree. There were times and places to do all things, but it was certainly not the time to get up and get his sword. The blondie cursed, reached up and scratched his head, and peered at the bull of a man standing at the other end of the fairly small park.
Sabatini was Italian, and he was the better part of seven feet tall, a solid 290 pounds of raw muscle, and was a junior officer in the 4th Squad of Seireitei, in charge of healing – and keeping Masato out of trouble. He now glowered at the hungover kid as he fumbled around his hakama, finally pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He watched Masato pull one out, mutter a few words under his breath, and light the smoke on a small flame that burst out of his fingers.
Rather ostentatiously, Masato sucked on the smoke for a second, then blew a small stream of carcinogens in a quick little puff towards his officer, interposing the flame on the way. He severed the reiatsu keeping the flame burning skillfully, just as the smoke blew over it, and the flame blew itself out.
Let’s see me try to have done that last night...
With a grumble, knowing that he was going to get chewed out – no doubt the barroom brawl had already been reported – Masato stumbled to his feet, stepped gingerly over to his sword, and fell over when he bent to pick it up. After a couple of muttered profanities, he grabbed it, crawled his way back to verticality, and sauntered over to the seething Sabatini.
"Would you like to tell me what happened last night, Yamashita!?” Sabatini roared, all but knocking the would-be healer back to the floor.
"Well...”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Cheater! That Ace was up your sleeve!”
The woman who screamed at him had a pierced nose, eyebrow, and a large snake-fang hanging from an ear as a necklace. She was covered in muscle, and more than scary enough for Masato.
The teenager shrugged meekly.
"I’ll give you your money back?” Masato said, as he threw back a shot of scotch-his preferred drink.
"Not good enough now, sparky! Draw steel!” She scramed, hopping to her feet and pulling forth a heavy medieval broadsword. Masato cringed, and slowly reached for a bottle of booze, never taking his eyes off the large cow.
This is why I stay away from women...
With a deceptive speed, Masato threw the liquor bottle at the woman, even as he threw himself back in the chair, knocking it over, and rolling – albeit clumsily – to his feet, drawing his rapier of a sword. A loud curse echoed through the now cheering bar as the brute of a female blocked the bottle with her sword, the bottle smashing and covering the blade, and her in some amber liquid or another.
With an agility born of desperation-how on Earth could he even think to take on a woman twice his weight without being broken like a toothpick anyways-Masato snapped his left hand up, and lifted his index and middle finger, together, and pointed them at his opponent, as she charged him.
"Converge light into spaces of darkness, Hadou #4, Byaku-" Too late, the woman grabbed his hand with one meaty fist and punched him full in the face with the hilt of her sword. For once, though, the drunk’s combat training in the Academy proved useful, as he rolled with the blow and ended up several feet away from the woman. Trying another tactic, he thrust at a bottle of vodka, smashing the bottle. And covering his own blade in alcohol.
Flammable alcohol.
Lifting his fingers again, he muttered the incantation under his breath, even as he stared the brute of a woman – smiling at the hit she scored on the cheating filth that was Masato.
"Ignite and thrive. Hadou #1, Yakekoge!” The flame erupted from his fingers. Being careful to keep his left hand away from the blade, Masato measured the woman up, took a careful step forward...
And lunged toward her. With an almost contemptuous ease, the ugly cow caught the thrust, took a step forward, and suddenly the slim and small Masato was pitting his strength against that of Hulk Hogan’s sister. Just before he was forced to take a step back, he pressed his lit fingers against his blade, and pushed forward with a surge of strength.
The rapier instantly caught flame, and the woman jumped back in surprise – Before she could recover from the shock, the tip of the thin blade was menacing her throat, less than an inch away, as the small red mark (where her skin had been singed) could testify. The woman stepped backwards, admitted defeat, just as the bartender broke a bottle on Masato’s head, and the rest of the shinigami in the fine establishment threw the bull-woman out.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"So you lit your sword on fire to win a fight against a woman the size of William Refrigerator Perry? Because you were cheating when you were gambling?” Sabatini’s face was beat red, and Masato was idly amused at the thought of steam coming out of his ears, like one of those old Looney Tune cartoons.
"You have 3 days worth of paperwork to sign, kitchens and bathrooms to clean, and Zanjutsu, Hohou and Kidou exercises to do. Hop to, Yamashita Masato of the 4th Division. Before I show you what a REAL fight is like!” The Italian snarled, and stomped off.
Taking one last puff on the smoke, Masato sighed, flicked the butt away, turned around, and laid back down underneath the tree. The young man pulled a flask out of his hakama, unscrewed the lid, and had a nice, long guzzle. The work could wait until that afternoon, he decided as he put his hands behind his head, to cushion it, and closed his eyes...
Or maybe until tomorrow...
