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The Great GC, Versus Blood Alchemist. A clash of friends.



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Bear

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I have challenged General Chaos to a 1v1 battle. I figured it would be a good oppurtunity to develope more of a flow to my Role-Playing, and a better understanding of how to defeat someone. I'm not sure if I'm going to work on my character yet.. But after someone posts, I will post my template. However, I wish you all to know, that GC is Not using his best character. It would have taken him 1-2 week to finish it. Therefor, he is using a different one, and I'm sure whatever the outcome of this battle, I will face Vanadiel in the near future. But 'till then, I will gladly attempt to take down General Chaos.


Battle Ground -

Mt. Ember
A horrific, and terrifying display of evil, or so it is said. This mountain is home to the demonic creature, Boduku. The Boduku live in the rocks cevisces, and in huts by the river of magma. The volcano itself only stands three hundred feet tall, but it spreads without the whole northern area of Pathmonia. The volcano is littered with vacuum holes witch spray magma every few minutes. The land itself is an overall terror among all civilized beings.


You get the idea.


Rules.
- Standard RPing rules imply.
- No G-moding, or P-playing.
- Profanity limits as ruled in the announcements.
- Only 8 abilities.
- Have fun. <3
- There will be three judges. Judges, please, you will be deciding for us if a there is no winner by July 11th. That's two weeks. Plenty of time. You will judge by grammar, effort, literacy, idea, and creativity.
- If you would like to be a judge, just simply post and ask. I will add you to the judge list.

Judges
1st - Thespis
2nd -
3rd -



Template - Originals only :] -

Name :
Age :
Gender :
Personality :
Appearance :
Equipment/Accessories :
Abilities : ( 8 total )
Bio :
Theme Song : ( You know you want a theme song =D )

GC may add more. I personally, do not care. As long as those are filled out.

I will be posting my template after the first reply. <3
 
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GeneralChaos

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Heh, 'The Great GC' huh? Flattering... but it will earn you no favours in this battle, BA.

No doubt you're all sick of seeing him and his... extreme bio, so this will be the last time I use him for quite a while (or until someone requests a battle with L'Morte).

Name: L’Morte Damesious, but is also known by the title of Dragonslayer and by those who serve him as the White Knight. In a previous life, he was known as Tristan Morrigan.

Age: He died at the age of 24, and has since lived as a one of the Mosfaru for over 500 years.

Species: The Mosfaru, as they call themselves, and also known by other races as the Deathspawn.

Home World: Was once the planet Rhebes, but became the planet Enalius after he became a Mosfaru.

Appearance (Physical): Mosfaru retain the majority if not all of the physical attributes of the creatures they once were, although there are a few noticeable differences. The most noticeable is the skin. The skin is usually extremely discoloured, giving them a very pale complexion that is somewhat reminiscent of a vampire. All Mosfaru also share the same coloured hair, as dead and lifeless as their pale grey skin, and black, opaque eyes that give the feeling to any soul unfortunate enough to gaze into the eyes of a Deathspawn a feeling of despair, with the feeling that their mind, body and soul are sinking into the endless depths of oblivion.
However, unlike most Mosfaru, there are the select few with L’Morte being a prime example who, having proved themselves on the field of battle are granted a lease of life by the Enalius which has been branded the ‘mark’, making those who earn it ‘marked ones’. This mark is in fact an evolution of the Mosfaru. It grants those worthy of the mark a few albeit power magical properties of a kind few have ever witnessed, and none survived. However, the strain of even containing this magic within a frail body can have a few adverse side-effects. It can cut off several senses upon contact and wear away the most of the rest with time. Not only that, but it also cuts the skin into small pieces that are seemingly held together by nothing. This leads to a large amount of blood loss during the first few days and can prove fatal to the marked one. If the marked one manages to survive, the cuts will eventually heal into filthy brown scars giving the Mosfaru an uncanny resemblance to a walking jigsaw, held together by invisible bonds and giving a rather frightening appearance.
Aside from the usual irregularities of the Mosfaru, L’Morte cannot taste or speak, as his mouth has been sealed shut (connecting the skin below his lower lip and upper lip together, thereby sealing it shut) due to the overwhelming power of the Enalius magic. Thankfully, though, Mosfaru do not need any form of nourishment to survive other than air to breathe.

Appearance (Clothing): Although there are no rules set in stone for the dress code of the Mosfaru (and certainly not for a marked one, who are usually given free reign when it comes to trivial matters such as this), the Mosfaru are most definitely a warring people, paying little to no heed to negotiations, diplomacy or anything of the sort. Therefore, it is encouraged that all people wear at all times some form of armour or military dress. L’Morte, although free of the gentle tyranny of the Enalius, has seen no reason to think differently. He seldom removes his ivory plate armour, made from raw diamond sandwiched between two plates of pure steel squeezed so tight together they have been near enough fused, making his armour all but impregnable to conventional firearms. He has even been known to withstand a direct shot from artillery fire and withstand the claw of the Queen of Dragons herself. Seeing no need for any embroidery of any kind, as it would only get in the way in battle and could possibly cost him his life.

Weapon: A 7ft long Halberd that was made in much the same way L’Morte’s armour was constructed. The shaft, however, was made with flexibility in mind, and so is not as dense as the axe head and so makes the weapon much more difficult to use, but allows L’Morte to use the weapon with flexibility that could only be topped by a whip. The axe head, constructed with the wielder in mind, was modelled after one of his greatest accomplishments: his victory over the great Queen of Dragons, Shequah. The cutting blade was crafted in a delicate manner until perfection, with a giant Dragon wing that was almost a metre in diameter becoming the fruit of the labours.
A blade of this size and weight on a thin flexible shaft seems like a blacksmiths nightmare, but the weapon was crafted with such attention and care that the makers, undoubtedly masters of their craft, managed to negate weight of the blade by having it focused towards no particular point on the weapon and, in turn, making it easier to wield overall. L’Morte who, upon witnessing the blade, was overcome by its craftsmanship, decided upon naming it after the late Queen of Dragons. Due to how large the weapon is, however, it lacks a holster meaning L’Morte must carry it with him wherever he goes.

Abilities: Although most of L’Morte’s abilities stem from what he is, there are a few abilities contained within him that no other Mosfaru could even dream of accomplishing. However, I think it best if I go into more detail as to what the Mosfaru are capable of.

Resurrection/Conversion: The most well-known trait of a Mosfaru, and quite possibly the sole reason for which they are feared and hated and is the major reason the Mosfaru have been so successful in conquering so many galaxies and subjecting so many people. Any fallen creature, whether it has been dead for centuries or seconds, whether it is as small as a mouse or as large as an Elephant, can be brought back by any Mosfaru and transformed into a Mosfaru in the process. This is possible due to the strange but potent magic of the Enalius. She does this through forcing one of her many servants to make physical contact with the target. Anything from the slightest touch to a full embrace will do. This will have to be maintained for at least a few seconds before the Enalius can apply her magic. The process may take more or less time, depending on how large the target or targets are, with the average human being taking only 10 seconds. The effect spreads from the point of every, changing or creating the skin into hat of the Mosfaru along the way until the creature has been fully converted. The target retains all physical and mental abilities they had at the time of death as well as the power of the Mosfaru that comes with it. However, these people are nothing more than empty vessels. Although the mind and body return, the soul, which is forever connected to the host, is not returned. Instead, it is consumed by the Enalius to prolong her life and preventing the newly converted Mosfaru from breaking free of her grip. However, the rules are different for a marked one. Not only can they control any and all Mosfaru they resurrect, but they do not need to make physical contact with the target, instead only having to be within a particular radius, usually 50 to 75 metres (due to L’Morte’s accomplishments for the Enalius, however, he has been given enough power to raise all of the dead within a square mile, although it would take him hours, perhaps even days to accomplish such a feat. However, any creature they resurrect automatically has its soul sent to the Enalius. For the Enalius, any dead creature on her home planet is almost instantly converted regardless of its scale; such is the control over the magic of her species. There are several ways, however, to break free of her mind-control. If the resurrection is completed but the soul consumption is not, the mind, body and soul of the target is resurrected as they once were. However, due to the fact that it only takes about 10 seconds for an average creature and due to the trademark viciousness of the Mosfaru, this has not become a problem as of yet.

Modification: A somewhat overlooked factor by most other races that have to deal with the Deathspawn is that, during the resurrection process when the Enalius is reassembling the broken tissues of a dead creature through the magic of her dead race, she alters their physical prowess enhancing speed, endurance, power and stamina, increases their intelligence thereby making them braver, much wiser, more cunning and no longer have a sense of right and wrong, so that only her word is law. She also, and most disturbingly of all, takes advantage of every creatures sexual motives and preferences. She has each and every one of her species infatuated with her to the point of obsession, making it easier to tell them what to do and preventing any kind of mutiny. Not only that, but any and all creatures revived not only have a love of death, murder and destruction, but fantasise about their own physical, mental and emotional pain. The Enalius then takes advantage of the lust they feel when acting out any of these and pours every ounce of energy from it into the battle, meaning that for every bit of damage they dish out, every blow they receive and for every life they end; they only want to fight harder, better and deadlier. They are moulded into the perfect army in every conceivable way. All this helps in a small way to negate some of the many adverse marked effects, but it cannot wholly stop the process. There is no known method of doing so for any creature other than the Enalius.

The Soul of Shequah: The Queen of Dragons L’Morte faced off against was his crowning glory. None can deny that. However, the Queen did not simply die, as both the Enalius and L’Morte had thought, but had passed its soul into L’Morte’s body, which had remained an empty vessel since his soul was consumed. Even to this day it still inhabits his body, always attempting to take control of the host but never fully succeeding due to the endless interference of the Enalius. Both are constantly engaged in a war contained within the mind of L’Morte for possession of the body: Shequah so she can continue to exist in the mortal plane and the Enalius so she can once again regain control of her greatest warrior. The constant fighting within his mind has given L’Morte a lease of life the Enalius would never allow him to have. The endless turmoil has allowed him to be free from the mind-control of the Enalius and from Shequah although this has had an adverse effect on his fighting capability, which has been severely hampered by the presence of two so very powerful individuals in his mind. There have been occasions, though, when a fight got too tough for L’Morte to deal with on his own that both the Enalius, who does not wish to lose her prized warrior and Shequah, who does not yet wish to leave for the land of the dead, have both united and aided L’Morte in any way they can, although the true extent of the power both together could give to him has not yet been revealed, but it could very well be possible that if he were to reach his absolute full potential, he could destroy entire planets if he so wished. Also, through his short yet helpful conversations with Shequah, he has managed to learn and wield a small amount of Dragon Magic, although he is still as of yet only a trainee in the art, and could never hope to use it effectively in battle until he was properly versed.

Personality: The conflict between the Enalius and Shequah has given a new L’Morte a chance to rise from the ashes of his former self, although he seems in no hurry to change from his former ways as a bandit. Smooth-talking and arrogant, he would be cocky if he didn’t have the power to back up his claims and never passes up on a chance to get what he wants with as little effort as possible. However, you should not let this gentle facade fool you. Due to the earlier influence of the Enalius, he will kill, maim, brutalize and destroy without a second thought just for the hell of it.

Biography: It all began before L’Morte, who had been christened Tristan at birth, had made his first steps, before he had been born, even before his world had been created. It all began on the planet of Kii, 12 million years before Tristan’s planet had even begun to form. On the large planet of Kii there resided a very strange but alluring creature; a race capable of reanimating its dead in an instant, and transforming every living creature around it into their own personal and eternal slaves. These strange, wonderful and immensely powerful creatures named themselves the Enalius, after the god they worshipped. They believed this god of theirs had been the one to grant them the power to control any creature they wished, and also believed this God wished them to use their powers for not only the good of their planet or the creatures on it, but for the good of the entire universe. To this end, they refused to practice the ‘evil’ side of their powers, and chose not to transform the other inhabitants of their world into their slaves or alter their minds in any way, but instead only choose to revive back whenever they earned it. It meant that the world’s great, noble leaders, their wise men and their wonderful entertainers would never die. They would never leave the world they had made their mark on. No creature even so much as approached extinction. All lived in peace and happiness. It was something straight out of a fairy tale. All was fine, of course, until one of these creatures, a young female known as Tesimi was born.

Tesimi had always felt that she was born for great things, knew she was destined to become a great person. She pushed herself to the limits of her knowledge, reviving any creature that so much as passed her by. These actions, her elders appreciated and even encouraged. They did not however, appreciate never mind encourage her morals. She felt that, if her species had the power, they should use it. That they should take control of everything, and envisioned that she would be the one to do it. Her elders dismissed this as a childhood fantasy, most of the time. However, all this changed when Tesimi took a full dive into the ‘evil’ side of her races power. She consumed the soul of a small bird she had found run over and ordered it to kill a young boy at school who had been bullying her. The repercussions were so swift and brutal that Tesimi found herself rotting a prison cell in less than a day. The public outcry was unbelievable. They demanded the immediate release of the young girl, who had been clearly upset when a young man hit her and couldn’t have meant for the bird to kill him. A mob, led by Tesimi’s parents, was formed in less than a week. Well, it could hardly be called a ‘mob’, as it numbered in the hundreds of thousands. The feeble military never stood a chance as the mob, growing in numbers even as they moved stormed past like the army of darkness, lay waste to the prison and freed Tesimi. Although this was the most sudden and brutal uprising it the history of the race, it was not over yet.
The years went by and Tesimi, now a flourishing young woman, was still consuming the souls of creatures. Her powers seemed to grow with every soul consumed, allowing her to eat more, faster and amass an army of gigantic proportions. Of course, this army was kept secret to the rest of her kind. She had them keep to the shadows at all times while she practiced her powers, adding and adding until it was impossible to keep them secret any longer. She had even begun to drag the dead of her own kind from out of their graves and subject their souls, minds and bodies to her whim. Even now, she had become the most powerful among her race and hadn’t even so much as scratched the surface of her potential. Eventually, she declared war on every living thing on her planet that was not serving her.

It was a massacre. In less than 10 minutes, she had almost total control over every thing that had lived and was living in the planet. Not only that, but she had consumed enough souls to last hundreds upon thousands of years. She had become as close to an immortal being as a mortal could ever come, and still she was not satisfied. Her planet, which she had now named after her race, had begun to gather attention from other races throughout the galaxy. There was nothing to stop this young empress from declaring war on the entire galaxy and winning. They had to stop her before it was too late… but… was it already too late?

Tesimi, who had not only named her planet after her people but now also herself, was not idle while the rest of the galaxy made plans for her demise. Her people needed no food, no rest and no water. They could work for weeks, months even, none stop. She commanded them to build her an armada and a palace in which to reside, and there she stays to this day, leaning upon her diamond throne in a lax position whilst her mind is always at work. It took only 5 months for 30,000 intergalactic ships to be made. That was twice the amount of the entire galaxy’s armada’s combined into one. There is no reason to explain any further the results of that conflict. Suffice it to say that the alliance against the Enalius failed miserably, and that an entire galaxy was enslaved to her will in 5 years. It was during this time that, on a planet on another galaxy, momentarily far away from any danger posed from the Enalius or her unstoppable army of creatures, which she named the Mosfaru (after the god her people had worshiped) on a small planet called Rhebes, a young boy named Tristan was born.

This young boy, the only son of an old couple, grew up never giving a damn about anyone else except himself. He took what he wanted when he could while wasting as little energy as possible. By the age of six, he had become a public nuisance and at the age of twelve an outlaw. Three years after that he was thrown from the town gates at 12 midnight and left to fend for himself. He quickly took to the terrain, beating fat and bloated merchants on their way into town with a heavy club and robbing them of all their belongings. The mayor of the town himself was beaten over the head five times before being tossed from his carriage and impaled with a small dagger. By now, he was wanted by vigilante groups, law enforcement and even the local military for stealing provisions. At the age of 21, he fled the local province and made for the capital, pillaging just outside the borders of the city with his own small group of men, taking what they could and leaving little behind. If he had continued this less than noble life any further, it is quite possible he would have been struck dead. But, a few days after his 24th birthday, the Enalius and her Mosfaru minions invaded the planet. The planet attempted a futile resistance, but it was all for naught. The Mosfaru swept through them, reviving their own dead along the way while adding to their ranks as they moved. The slaughter lasted only a few days, with Tristan being unfortunate enough to be camping near one of the designated landing areas. He was skewered with three pikes, two in the chest and one in the arm, before having his neck snapped. Seconds afterwards, the Enalius extended into him her hand, yanked out his soul by the neck and devoured it. He had been revived as a Mosfaru soldier, and would continue to fight in the name of the Enalius for over 300 years before he became recognised for what a potentially great warrior he could before. It took the defeat of one of the greatest creatures the Mosfaru had ever come across in order for it to happen.

Initially, there were over 20,000 Mosfaru poised to come down upon the great Dragon Queen. Only 32 managed to come back intact and only one came back bearing the head of the great beast. The Enalius was so overcome with joy with the destruction of so vast and powerful a creature that she didn’t notice one fatal flaw until it was too late. Tristan, having been the one to deliver the fatal blow to the creature by cutting his way through her great body, withstanding the torrents of blood gushing out of her, navigating his way through her using her veins and arteries and plunging his blade into her heart, thereby killing her instantly. However, as he made his way back to the encampment to celebrate his victory over the Queen and the conversion of another planet, he didn’t notice a warm, itching feeling in the base of his skull, or in his heart. The Queen, in an act of desperation, had hurled herself into Tristan’s empty body as an act of desperation to preserve her life.

The Enalius, finding it difficult to control the impulses of one of her Mosfaru, was deeply troubled by what she had seen. She had journeyed into the mind of a Mosfaru she had recently awarded the rank of marked one and had renamed L’Morte Damesious, and had found a slumbering dragon in his mind. What was even more troubling was, when she had tried to get rid of the beast, it had awoken. Catching her by surprise, the beast had hurled her from the mind of this Mosfaru and had been left reeling in her chair. Soon afterwards, he had gone AWOL, abandoning her army by stealing one of the many intergalactic ships and had dashed off to parts unknown. She had no idea of his intentions, of where he was going or what he would be capable of. He could very well use the resurrection process against her, constructing his own army of soulless Mosfaru. Even the thought of that was enough to chill her to the bone.

In truth, L’Morte had no idea what he was doing. Only that he wanted to get back to his old way of life, away from the Mosfaru and from the Mosfaru. To a place where he could pillage, plunder and destroy whatever he so wished whenever he felt like it. This is how his life has been going for almost 100 years, travelling from planet to planet, galaxy to galaxy, ever-seeking that which he would never find but was unwilling to pass it off as nothing more than a figment of his imagination. If he had to lay waste to everything he came across to find it, he would find his paradise, or so he believed for, sadly, even if L’Morte ever found what he searched for, he would be doomed to destroy it. For such is the nature of what he is, and who he is.

Theme Tune: Richard Wagner - Ride of the Valkyries.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

As for abilities, Shequah has a few things up her sleeve which would bring up the total to 5... however, it is doubtful that L'Morte will be pushed to the point where he will have to choose if whether or not he'd... nah, I've said too much already. You'll just have to get him there, BA. I wish you luck.
 
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Bear

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ooc: It's an honor to be battling you. It will also be an honor killing your character <3

Name: Kusa Rellik.

Age: 22.

Gender: Male.

Race: Undead Human.

Class: Broad Swordsman.

Weapon/equipment:
- Broad Sword.
This sword is Kusa's main weapon in battle. At a shy length of five feet, and being lightweight, it enables Kusa to maneuver it with ease. The sword is a sturdy steel, which is even edged untill it reaches the triangle tip, where it forms jagged on one side. The handle is made of alloy, and clothed by a red tape, leading to the hilt, of which is a silvery steel painted black.

- Mamorinuku. It is black, with half-inch long lines in the center of the blade, starting at the hilt, and continuing up the blade. It symbols how many souls the blade has taken. It lengths nearly six feet long, and almost eight inches in width. The blade itself is made of a durable steel. Light, but strong. The sword of one thousand souls. It's weilder can choose to take a dead human's soul, to strengthen the blade's endurance. Kusa came into posession of this, just before he was killed, at Mt. Ember, by a strange man in red armour. He fought this man, and failed. Fortunately, when Kusa was ressurected, he fought the man once more, and retrieved the blade. But, instead of returning it to the underworld as Hades instructed, he menaced the ability of taking souls, and continued walking the planet with it.

- Arm Guard. This padding was made by Kusa himself. It appears thick, on his left shoulder, but is quite thin. It fools most, but when struck right, it would shatter. It's overlapped sides withhold a stained silver, and the word 'RelliK' painted in black.

- Glove. Kusa's dependent right hand is sheathed by a brown wornout glove. Although, it may fool some when being struck by not raw fist beneath it's leather, but a sturdy metal sheet.

- The Devil's Ring. This ring is on Kusa's index finger, on his left hand. It allows him to temporarely disappear before all but elven eye's. Before his village was destroyed, a great and terrible king visit the land, and stayed in the most divine sanctuary in the village, for a small parliament vacation. Kusa snuck in his room at night, and stole jewelry. Unfortunately for him, he was caught, and stripped of all stolen goods. All but the ring, which Kusa held tight in his mouth while the soldiers searched him.

- Sanctuary's Rock. This rock is the only thing Kusa has left of his village. It is a swirl white blue, and has a hole near the top. It's just about an inch, if not a hair width less. Kusa wears it around his neck at all times. He doesn't know what it does, but he gets a strange feeling when he looks into it.

Occupation: Mercenary.

Abilities:
- Blitz
. Kusa obtained the ability Blitz, from an old man, whilst on one of his Mercenary travels. He trained with this old man for two weeks, before mastering the skill. When used, Kusa strikes the ground with his broad sword, creating three small electric waves beneath the ground. It's results vary, but Kusa has found it possible to manipulate the direction of the three waves. Far apart versus hordes, and closer together for a single target.

- Kenji. This ability allows Kusa to jump higher than most, and continue jumping while keeping his endurance, and breathing level. The skill was obtained when he was a child, just after his village Sukai was destroyed. He was left with nothing, untill a young woman found him. She took him back to her village, Tanake, a secret village that was supposed dead. There Kusa learned flexibility, form, stance, basic fighting skills, and the art of Kenji.

- Devil's Ring. The ring allows him to become temporarely invisible. Only lasting for a short time of 30 or so seconds, Kusa cannot be seen by any, but the trained eye of an elf.

- Way of the Theif. This skill was obtained when Kusa was just fifteen years of age. He mingled with theives, and enjoyed being around them. Soon he became close friends with the clan, and found himself stealing and shoplifting for pleasure. Kusa regrets the horrible memories, but uses the way of the theif when in need of food, or such items.

- Soul Eater. The Mamorinuku collects a dead human's soul, to strengthen itself. The weilder can choose to take the soul, or allow it to return to the planets Underworld, or Haven.

- Destruction. Destruction is a powerful attack, much like Blitz, but with the Mamorinuku blade. It's power ranges between moderate, and extreme damage.

- Fallen Angel. Kusa becomes unable to control his body, as his fallen angel takes over. This ability was unfortunately obtained while being sent to the Underworld. Kusa developed a rather dark, and disobedient fallen angel within him, and only releases it when he is most in-need. Otherwise, Kusa will never release the beast within him. The nightmare. When turned, Kusa is slightly stronger, and faster. His appearance hardly alters, discluding his red eye's.

- Tellah's Potion. After being resurrected, Kusa came upon an old travelling Tellah, in need of assistance. He helped the man, and received a potion, which heals wounds. The potion is able to heal small injuries, and help with severe damage.

Personality: Kusa is bright, but flonts his words immaturely. He is very youthful, and it shows in his attitude towards everything. Rarely serious, he likes to play with children, and joke with anyone he meets. Truely a juvenille portray for his enemies. But, when doing his job as a mercenary, he is rutheless, uncaring, and devilish.

Appearance: Kusa stands five feet, eleven inches. He is average when it comes to muscle, and size, but appears to be stronger than he looks when fighting. He has dirty blonde hair, that spikes even during the most accelerated of movements. He has blue eye's, and pale white skin.
Kusa is clothed by a rather different outfit from most. Blue worn out jeans, white shirt, and brown boots. His shirt is littered with straps, and the rope which holds his sword. On his left arm, he wears his armguard just on his shoulder. Further down, he is cuffed by a small chain bracelet. On the same hand, he wears three rings. His right arm is wrapped in a bandage from the elbow down to his worn out brown glove. The leather glove contains a sheet of metal, that allows Kusa's punches to be more effective on his opponents. Kusa's chest is padded by one round shaped steel plate, which covers very little.
His jeans, are held up by two black belts. Beat and worn down, due to the times he was forced to use them on his adventures.

Bio: Kusa ventured through a rather horrible, and chaotic life. His childhood years in the village Sukai were filled with fun, love, laughter, and kindness. Although when he was ten years of age, his village was attacked and destroyed, leaving him alone alive.

Three days later, he was found by a beautifull young girl, and taken back to a strange, ancient village that was said to be no more, named Tanake. It was a great village, surrounded by green plantlife, and exotic flowers of all sorts. Hidden in the falls of Pathmonia, a land of skeptical parliament. The hidden village Tanake, brought many graces upon Kusa. He was trained in the art of Kenji, and treated well within the village. Although, some village people did not like the idea of an outsider. Soon they became angered with the cheifs decisions to let Kusa stay, and held a village meeting. It was decided that Kusa would be exiled from Tanake. After all the quests, and adventures he had gone through, in order to become a pledged Tanakei, he had been exiled at a young age. Fourteen. Once again, he was left with no home. History seemed to be repeating itself...

After a few months of venturing by his lonesome, Kusa began to steal food from villages, and towns. In order to live, he must steal. So it was justified. Or so he thought.
Soon enough, Kusa realized what he was doing... But didn't care. Mingling with bandits was the next event in his life. Learning their ways, and stealing not only food, but weapons, and strange mythril armors. Soon he was a bandit himself. Skilled in the art, and pleasured by it. Untill he was fifteen and one half.
Kusa was sent on a mission to retrieve a priceless object, from a king. But, Kusa was caught, and brought forth to the king, whom give him the choice of a loyal soldier at the kings hand, or death. Kusa, made his choice quick, and easily. A loyal soldier he was to become, for two years.

After serving his duty, Kusa was released into the world as a citizen once again, only to become a mercenary for money. He was skilled in swordsmanship, and didn't ask much questions. A true mercenary if there ever was one. Young, but skilled.

On one of his adventures, he came across an old man. He spent two weeks at the mans house, on invitation. There, he learned a skill called Blitz. After he had mastered the technique, he solemnly swore never to forget of the mans kindness, and tell every lone traveller of his great heart.

By the time Kusa was seventeen, he was highely recommended amung rich settlers, some merchants, and even a few Kings. His hard work as a mercenary had paid off, and it was time for him to go completely professional. Although, little did Kusa know, he would be getting himself into the most excurciatingly painful, and sorrowful adventure of his life.

At age eighteen, Kusa was arrogant enough to test himself, in every way possible. Travelling the world, and facing it's many horrifying creatures, and legends. Soon, he heard of the Upicha desert tale. No one had ventured into the desert, and returned. Kusa attempted this challenge, but failed as soon as day turned to night. Creatures of all sorts attacked him furiously. Luckily for him, a man traveling the desert outskirts spotted him, and returned him to his village, Tanake. Here, he was accepted once again, as a Tanakei.

After six months of living with the Tanakei again, he set out, to train as a swordsman. Temporarely abondoning his job as a mercenary, to find himself as a person, and explore the world, graduating his abilities.

At the age of twenty two, Kusa was offered a job. One Hundred thousand gil, to assasinate a wanted criminal. It seemed as if it was easy enough, for so much gil. Kusa took the job. He was finally ready to test his newly obtained strength.

Kusa tracked the man down, and followed him through the terrible Upicha desert. They soon reached Mt. Ember, where Kusa and the man fought. Sadly, Kusa lost his life, and the man was left unpunished for all he had done.

Soon, Kusa could see a bright light. The brightest light. But it did not blind him, nor scare him. It gladened him, in some strange, warm way. He had made it to the Haven. He had become one of Pathmonia's angels, or one of the "lost". Kusa began to sleep for extended periods of time.. dreaming away his life as an angel, disobeying the voices in his head.

Kusa then awoke in a strange, alien world. A world of which was named, the Underworld. Kusa was then greeted by it's keeper. Hades. Hades told him of his wrong-doings, but stated that he was not to stay in the underworld, nor go to the Haven above. Kusa was to remain in Pathmonia, but not as human. As an undead angel. For he had not finished his duty as a mercenary. Hades wished for the man Kusa was tracking, to die. He must, or all order would be lost. Hades stated, that the man carried an ancient artifact, called the Mamorinuku. It collected the souls of dead humans, instead of allowing them to venture into the Underworld. Which of course, angered Hades.

Kusa was then revived, but returned to his body as something more. A fallen angel. His arm was now littered with markings, and he felt a strange darkness within him. A want, and yearn to kill. He ignored it, and started off, to continue what he started.

Few days passed, and Kusa finally caught up with his killer. He confronted him, and fought untill he couldn't anymore. The man swore to take his soul this time.. But Kusa began to change before the man had a chance. Kusa transformed... into something evil. His fallen angel had taken over.

He then awoke, with the man's blood all over himself. He had killed him... But he did not regret it. He didn't feel sorrow. He felt pleasure. Thus, taking the Mamorinuku, he began his new life, as an undead, fallen angel.

In time, Kusa gained the ability to travel through, and throughout the Omniverse. Using the Underworld as a gateway, he has been able to transport himself to different worlds, using the faint link between the living and the dead. Him being both, he is allowed to pass forth at will.

His reasons for abusing the ability differ, but his main motive, is hunger for more souls. Feeding the Mamorinuku as he travels, he is able to manipulate his dark self, using the blade to control it's fury. Although, he hasn't had the chance to completely disable it's free will.

Now, he finds himself haunting the Omniverse with his treachery, consuming the souls of each unfortunately strong being he encounters.. Untill now.

Theme Song: "M.I.A" - Avenged Sevenfold. ( PM me, if you want the Itunes file. )

 

Bear

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ooc: Wonderful. One more Judge and we shall begin. GC, Just know, that I am Jesus. Whatever influence that give you.
 

Bear

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I was browsing through some of the old threads I made, and stumbled upon this one. GeneralChaos, if you do happen to come online, I'd like to continue this. I never did get to get my ass-kicking. xD
 
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Woah... unexpected. Welcome, of course, but unexpected.

Although I haven't even had a chance to properly RP in months... I accept. It'll be good practice for when I single-handedly decimate BoS. I don't care what 'Riddle'ith Me'ith This'ith' and his bumbling sidekick plan to do to them. They're mine. >.>

Back on topic. Although I do now consider L'Morte to be dead, I'll use him again if BA wishes it.

We begin on your introduction. Fight well.
 
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