Eidolon
Murderface Murderface
Edit list:
*Fixed gramatical errors and misc things mentioned by Saint
*Fixed persona based on suggestions by Impz
*Re-edited some portions based on G's and Sophia's suggestions.
*Really, really, really stared hard at the Soul Slayer and Persona entries, but couldn't make myself change them. I strongly, strongly, urge you to wait until (if) he gets his shi kai release. Even the name is going to be fun!
Contact Info:
AIM: VanguardJ
Name: Arcadian Kyuu [Last name] [First name]
Age: Arcadian appears to be a man in his late 20's. His actual soul society age is 234.
Persona: The greatest breath of air can be found while drowning in the rain. Such nonsensical drivel, and yet there it lies in Kyuu's heart clearly shining. Perhaps these sentiments reflect back to his time in Rukongai.
Kyuu cherished the rain, a break handed down to him from the very heavens. Release from the rigors of farming and raising cattle. It was a flowing sanctuary of dripping freedom. There, in the soft thrum of the rain, he was able to speak until his heart was content, and one of the few times he ever deigned to do so.
Kyuu puzzles over the possibility of his empathy. An intuitive regard for people, and a sensitivity to their plight. This reaction to social encounters often causes him to feel the need to enforce justice, and often he feels in a world so filled with violence it can only be achieved by the blade. While often soft spoken and kind hearted, his ruthlessness is battle shines in stark contrast.
Every time he walks amongst the peasants, he feels as if he should cry. Injustice, inequity, and a lack of egalitarianism is to be found on every street, every corner, and in every person.
The Shinagami . . . yes. . . he is one of those now . . . protect them, but cannot give them a life. Perhaps if he ever sits upon the first seat, he can change that.
Physical Stature: Crystal blue eyes swelling with the turbulence and power of the deep ocean adorn the pale skinned face of this towering man. Well over six and a half feet tall, his body is proportioned perfectly for his height. Raven hair escapes the knot on the nape of his neck to fall down beside his strong chin and masculine lips, teasing the hem of his gi. His movements are controlled and graceful, but the worn and toughed skin of his hands reveal a life of hard work. The expression worn upon his face is one of quiet empathy, perhaps coupled with a tinge of regret.
Division and Seat: Kyuu has just graduated from the academy and some of his instructors have urged him to capitalize on either his affinity with water or developing speed. He has, with the greatest respect and dignity, declined their offers. Right now, his eyes are fixed directly on the emblem of the 11th squad.
Zanpakutou: Ungainly, large, and freakish. That is what many of his peers, and even his instructors have called his odachi zanpakutou. It is worn on his left side, and fit to be worn by only a man of his size. Frustratingly long, the blade extends to four and one half feet. The tsuba of the blade is detailed with painstaking engravings, minute kanji wrapping themselves in a spiraling circle. The hilt of the soul slayer itself is lavished by the caress of a deep aquamarine ribbon, again oversized as to trail off the end by a foot.
Stats:
Name: Arcadian Kyuu
Reiatsu: 100
Zanjutsu: 40
Hakuda: 10
Hohou: 40
Kidou: 10
Connection: 0
Biography: After several centuries in Soul Society Kyuu has little remembrance of his real life. At least, little that he would reveal to those he speaks with. Only the memory of having to swim through terrible, icy water to save something dear to him remains. A decision that cost him his own life, but he never feels regret over it. Once brought to Soul Society, he used his large size to his advantage, working for a demanding farm lord on the outskirts. His master used to tell him that his budget for food was so great, he could afford to give him nothing other then meager clothes and a bed to sleep in. For several centuries, this was enough.
In fact, the only thing that could have changed his life, finally did. While traveling during a rainstorm, a shinigami noticed the figure of Kyuu happily consuming a meal fit for three. It was not long after then Kyuu was enrolled in the academy. His time there was one of social and physical pain. The abnormality of his soul slayer and lower class status caused a great deal of hardship yet he endured even as the ocean will always remain when buffeted by the winds.
The Sample Chapter: Words: 1225
Heavier then steel should be, the sword drug along the ground as he futilely attempted to avoid the incoming kick. The blow was solid, efficient, ruthless, and most of all: painful. Kyuu collapsed under the immense pressure to his ribs.
"Winner, Azamo Kinukuske!" roared the judge.
Blood running in a thin stream from his mouth, several obviously broken ribs impeding his breathing, the pale handsome student arose from his laying position and looked Azamo squarely in the eyes.
"You win." He flatly stated. And then, immediately offered his hand in congratulations.
"I spit on you, Kyuu, and your weakness. My victory was assured the day you joined my class." Azamo retorted to the lesser man.
Kyuu's hand still remained extended even as Azamo turned and walked out of the ring. Moments later, Kyuu collapsed to the ground, exhausted. As he did, however, he couldn't help but admire the trail of blood that followed his opponent as he left.
"I gave this my best effort, and nearly beat a man who since my first days hounded me with humiliation. I can ask no more of myself," thought the wounded student. It was only then, as the battle haze lifted from him, and he diverted energy from his focus on the fight to his normal senses that he heard the roaring of his classmates.
They were all cheering for him.
"Ah . . . so the wound was deeper then flesh." Thought the now enlightened Kyuu.
The healers did their job efficiently. This was to be expected at the graduation combat test. His body was sore, stiff, possibly even still bruised, but the injuries were minor and would heal in just a few days. A pitiable sum when compared to the countless years that have passed since he came to Soul Society.
Several thoughts of days long past, the hard work that made him so strong meandered through his mind as he glided out into the empty courtyard. The blur of movement was so quick, that nearly any final year student would have been stupefied by the speed. Speed, however, is something Kyuu possessed in abundance. Without thought, without recognition, the over-long soul slayer at his hip, still in scabbard, caught the kick intended for his groin.
His great height may have been used against him in the past, but through the many years of training, Kyuu learned that his size was an immense advantage, as was his reach. Without thought, without recognition, his body flowed into the only appropriate movement. Like the ocean, the tide of his movements rushed up to envelop the opponent.
The soul slayer hissed with anger as it slid rapidly from his sheath, his left arm curling into a display of great power as he flung the foot off, spinning to cut deep into the chest of his attacker.
All he saw that moment was crimson. Everywhere . . . in an imperfect rain. A mockery of nature, of the beautiful water that purifies. It was just a polluted imitation. . . . one he had to cleanse.
Sharp blue eyes focused on the now wounded attacker. The wound was several inches deep across her chest, dragging across the bone. Her upper body posed no more threat. A woman. Azamo's lover. Yet there was no hesitation, no regret, and no pity. There was only the natural flow of water's course as the blade flicked by his powerful wrists turned directions and cut across her thighs.
The sword must attain Justice: by purification through trial. Her trial was over, and her defeat absolute. A hard twist of his arms sent her blood spraying off over the vegetation, crimson contrasting with green. Even before his soul slayer finished the motion of being sheathed, he was walking towards her. Swiftly, he scooped her up in his arms, and carried her in a protective embrace towards the healers he had just left.
Justice this day was not death.
Perhaps it was his blood stained appearance that caused them to make so much noise. Perhaps it was the expression on his typically warm face. He was not certain, but without doubt, they did scream. So long, and of sufficient duration to draw the attention of nearly anyone close by. And so, even as he laid her down on the table to be worked upon, crowds of students and instructors filed into the room. Including Azamo.
Azamo's lover was a talented practitioner of Hakuda, but Azamo himself was a genius. Heralded as the greatest fighter of his year, laurels of excellence rested upon his brow from many accomplishments in his days a student in the school. He was a mighty, if not terrible opponent. Yet Kyuu knew that his actions condemned him to face this opponent: the one who he had just lost to.
"Arcadian Kyuu, I challenge you to a duel of honor, on the basis of your slaughter of my friend!" roared Azamo.
His anger was perhaps a significant benefit to Kyuu. As a roaring fire consumes much oxygen to survive, the water remains eternal and without consumption. Smother the fire with water, and it is forever gone. Burn away the water with fire, and it only returns from its state as steam later.
All of this flashed through his mind as he softly intoned, "I accept." And without further word, returned to the tournament circle. Azamo strode eagerly ahead of him, already pacing the ring as Kyuu entered it.
"This contest is to unconsciousness or until one of the contestants submits. I will not permit a death to occur today." the contest judge projected. He was confident of it now, that boy, Kyuu, was exactly what he was looking for. He stared at Kyuu, "And don't hold back, Kyuu-san."
The words fell on deaf ears. Kyuu was only looking to hear the one word that would ensure this contest ended the way it needed to. However, he couldn't help but notice the incredible appearance of his judge. The lip spike, earrings, the hair style. . . so boisterous, so forceful.
"Hajime!" barked Dane.
It was nearly instant. The speed of it was remarkable for a newly graduated student. Again, however, the blow was insufficient to surpass Kyuu's speed. His entire experience at the academy was defeat after humiliating defeat. His bulky sword did not allow him to easily wield it; further, he had little talent with fighting using kidou or his fists. So he had to rely on his weakness to be his strength.
The blow landed with a sickening crunch. Kyuu was sure his decision had just cost him a broken jaw, but there was no other way. The blow was sufficient to knock him from the ring: an instant loss.
Azamo was not satisfied with this meager victory, he demanded retribution. He approached the body of the prostrate Kyuu, intent on using the new technique he had just learned: the demon fist. That would teach the impudent whelp his place, if he lived long enough to learn the lesson.
The judge sighed as he watched Kyuu carefully. He threw the fight, utterly and completely. He humiliated himself, just to ensure this other boy would continue his excellent path in the Gotei 13. The captain would have to beat the stupid out of him; however, he would make a fine member. If only he could find a way to beat the other squads to the punch. Surely their representatives noticed just as he . . .
(NPC Dane Schultz used with permission of Saint)
*Fixed gramatical errors and misc things mentioned by Saint
*Fixed persona based on suggestions by Impz
*Re-edited some portions based on G's and Sophia's suggestions.
*Really, really, really stared hard at the Soul Slayer and Persona entries, but couldn't make myself change them. I strongly, strongly, urge you to wait until (if) he gets his shi kai release. Even the name is going to be fun!
Contact Info:
AIM: VanguardJ
Name: Arcadian Kyuu [Last name] [First name]
Age: Arcadian appears to be a man in his late 20's. His actual soul society age is 234.
Persona: The greatest breath of air can be found while drowning in the rain. Such nonsensical drivel, and yet there it lies in Kyuu's heart clearly shining. Perhaps these sentiments reflect back to his time in Rukongai.
Kyuu cherished the rain, a break handed down to him from the very heavens. Release from the rigors of farming and raising cattle. It was a flowing sanctuary of dripping freedom. There, in the soft thrum of the rain, he was able to speak until his heart was content, and one of the few times he ever deigned to do so.
Kyuu puzzles over the possibility of his empathy. An intuitive regard for people, and a sensitivity to their plight. This reaction to social encounters often causes him to feel the need to enforce justice, and often he feels in a world so filled with violence it can only be achieved by the blade. While often soft spoken and kind hearted, his ruthlessness is battle shines in stark contrast.
Every time he walks amongst the peasants, he feels as if he should cry. Injustice, inequity, and a lack of egalitarianism is to be found on every street, every corner, and in every person.
The Shinagami . . . yes. . . he is one of those now . . . protect them, but cannot give them a life. Perhaps if he ever sits upon the first seat, he can change that.
Physical Stature: Crystal blue eyes swelling with the turbulence and power of the deep ocean adorn the pale skinned face of this towering man. Well over six and a half feet tall, his body is proportioned perfectly for his height. Raven hair escapes the knot on the nape of his neck to fall down beside his strong chin and masculine lips, teasing the hem of his gi. His movements are controlled and graceful, but the worn and toughed skin of his hands reveal a life of hard work. The expression worn upon his face is one of quiet empathy, perhaps coupled with a tinge of regret.
Division and Seat: Kyuu has just graduated from the academy and some of his instructors have urged him to capitalize on either his affinity with water or developing speed. He has, with the greatest respect and dignity, declined their offers. Right now, his eyes are fixed directly on the emblem of the 11th squad.
Zanpakutou: Ungainly, large, and freakish. That is what many of his peers, and even his instructors have called his odachi zanpakutou. It is worn on his left side, and fit to be worn by only a man of his size. Frustratingly long, the blade extends to four and one half feet. The tsuba of the blade is detailed with painstaking engravings, minute kanji wrapping themselves in a spiraling circle. The hilt of the soul slayer itself is lavished by the caress of a deep aquamarine ribbon, again oversized as to trail off the end by a foot.
Stats:
Name: Arcadian Kyuu
Reiatsu: 100
Zanjutsu: 40
Hakuda: 10
Hohou: 40
Kidou: 10
Connection: 0
Biography: After several centuries in Soul Society Kyuu has little remembrance of his real life. At least, little that he would reveal to those he speaks with. Only the memory of having to swim through terrible, icy water to save something dear to him remains. A decision that cost him his own life, but he never feels regret over it. Once brought to Soul Society, he used his large size to his advantage, working for a demanding farm lord on the outskirts. His master used to tell him that his budget for food was so great, he could afford to give him nothing other then meager clothes and a bed to sleep in. For several centuries, this was enough.
In fact, the only thing that could have changed his life, finally did. While traveling during a rainstorm, a shinigami noticed the figure of Kyuu happily consuming a meal fit for three. It was not long after then Kyuu was enrolled in the academy. His time there was one of social and physical pain. The abnormality of his soul slayer and lower class status caused a great deal of hardship yet he endured even as the ocean will always remain when buffeted by the winds.
The Sample Chapter: Words: 1225
Heavier then steel should be, the sword drug along the ground as he futilely attempted to avoid the incoming kick. The blow was solid, efficient, ruthless, and most of all: painful. Kyuu collapsed under the immense pressure to his ribs.
"Winner, Azamo Kinukuske!" roared the judge.
Blood running in a thin stream from his mouth, several obviously broken ribs impeding his breathing, the pale handsome student arose from his laying position and looked Azamo squarely in the eyes.
"You win." He flatly stated. And then, immediately offered his hand in congratulations.
"I spit on you, Kyuu, and your weakness. My victory was assured the day you joined my class." Azamo retorted to the lesser man.
Kyuu's hand still remained extended even as Azamo turned and walked out of the ring. Moments later, Kyuu collapsed to the ground, exhausted. As he did, however, he couldn't help but admire the trail of blood that followed his opponent as he left.
"I gave this my best effort, and nearly beat a man who since my first days hounded me with humiliation. I can ask no more of myself," thought the wounded student. It was only then, as the battle haze lifted from him, and he diverted energy from his focus on the fight to his normal senses that he heard the roaring of his classmates.
They were all cheering for him.
"Ah . . . so the wound was deeper then flesh." Thought the now enlightened Kyuu.
The healers did their job efficiently. This was to be expected at the graduation combat test. His body was sore, stiff, possibly even still bruised, but the injuries were minor and would heal in just a few days. A pitiable sum when compared to the countless years that have passed since he came to Soul Society.
Several thoughts of days long past, the hard work that made him so strong meandered through his mind as he glided out into the empty courtyard. The blur of movement was so quick, that nearly any final year student would have been stupefied by the speed. Speed, however, is something Kyuu possessed in abundance. Without thought, without recognition, the over-long soul slayer at his hip, still in scabbard, caught the kick intended for his groin.
His great height may have been used against him in the past, but through the many years of training, Kyuu learned that his size was an immense advantage, as was his reach. Without thought, without recognition, his body flowed into the only appropriate movement. Like the ocean, the tide of his movements rushed up to envelop the opponent.
The soul slayer hissed with anger as it slid rapidly from his sheath, his left arm curling into a display of great power as he flung the foot off, spinning to cut deep into the chest of his attacker.
All he saw that moment was crimson. Everywhere . . . in an imperfect rain. A mockery of nature, of the beautiful water that purifies. It was just a polluted imitation. . . . one he had to cleanse.
Sharp blue eyes focused on the now wounded attacker. The wound was several inches deep across her chest, dragging across the bone. Her upper body posed no more threat. A woman. Azamo's lover. Yet there was no hesitation, no regret, and no pity. There was only the natural flow of water's course as the blade flicked by his powerful wrists turned directions and cut across her thighs.
The sword must attain Justice: by purification through trial. Her trial was over, and her defeat absolute. A hard twist of his arms sent her blood spraying off over the vegetation, crimson contrasting with green. Even before his soul slayer finished the motion of being sheathed, he was walking towards her. Swiftly, he scooped her up in his arms, and carried her in a protective embrace towards the healers he had just left.
Justice this day was not death.
Perhaps it was his blood stained appearance that caused them to make so much noise. Perhaps it was the expression on his typically warm face. He was not certain, but without doubt, they did scream. So long, and of sufficient duration to draw the attention of nearly anyone close by. And so, even as he laid her down on the table to be worked upon, crowds of students and instructors filed into the room. Including Azamo.
Azamo's lover was a talented practitioner of Hakuda, but Azamo himself was a genius. Heralded as the greatest fighter of his year, laurels of excellence rested upon his brow from many accomplishments in his days a student in the school. He was a mighty, if not terrible opponent. Yet Kyuu knew that his actions condemned him to face this opponent: the one who he had just lost to.
"Arcadian Kyuu, I challenge you to a duel of honor, on the basis of your slaughter of my friend!" roared Azamo.
His anger was perhaps a significant benefit to Kyuu. As a roaring fire consumes much oxygen to survive, the water remains eternal and without consumption. Smother the fire with water, and it is forever gone. Burn away the water with fire, and it only returns from its state as steam later.
All of this flashed through his mind as he softly intoned, "I accept." And without further word, returned to the tournament circle. Azamo strode eagerly ahead of him, already pacing the ring as Kyuu entered it.
"This contest is to unconsciousness or until one of the contestants submits. I will not permit a death to occur today." the contest judge projected. He was confident of it now, that boy, Kyuu, was exactly what he was looking for. He stared at Kyuu, "And don't hold back, Kyuu-san."
The words fell on deaf ears. Kyuu was only looking to hear the one word that would ensure this contest ended the way it needed to. However, he couldn't help but notice the incredible appearance of his judge. The lip spike, earrings, the hair style. . . so boisterous, so forceful.
"Hajime!" barked Dane.
It was nearly instant. The speed of it was remarkable for a newly graduated student. Again, however, the blow was insufficient to surpass Kyuu's speed. His entire experience at the academy was defeat after humiliating defeat. His bulky sword did not allow him to easily wield it; further, he had little talent with fighting using kidou or his fists. So he had to rely on his weakness to be his strength.
The blow landed with a sickening crunch. Kyuu was sure his decision had just cost him a broken jaw, but there was no other way. The blow was sufficient to knock him from the ring: an instant loss.
Azamo was not satisfied with this meager victory, he demanded retribution. He approached the body of the prostrate Kyuu, intent on using the new technique he had just learned: the demon fist. That would teach the impudent whelp his place, if he lived long enough to learn the lesson.
The judge sighed as he watched Kyuu carefully. He threw the fight, utterly and completely. He humiliated himself, just to ensure this other boy would continue his excellent path in the Gotei 13. The captain would have to beat the stupid out of him; however, he would make a fine member. If only he could find a way to beat the other squads to the punch. Surely their representatives noticed just as he . . .
(NPC Dane Schultz used with permission of Saint)
