Dec 15, 2018 16:34:04 GMT -6
Post by Amakusa Ryuusei on Dec 15, 2018 16:34:04 GMT -6
♦ STUDENT INFORMATION ♦
Name: Amakusa ("Aegis") Ryuusei
Gender: Male
Age: 400 (Physically stays at 18)
Year in school: Freshman College
Dorm: Sage
Height: 5'11
Appearance:
Personality: She told me to smile….
To laugh despite there being no reason to laugh.
But for her memory I honour her request despite the lack of true understanding.
When it comes to understanding a person. One has to look into their past, their experiences to truly know just who the person is. One such case is Amakusa. He’s a man both moulded by his experience. Life lessons he took to heart or may have to learn to in order to survive the cruel existence he’s been forced into. He’s a soldier, a being created purely as an ace for a war his home country embroiled itself into. It wasn’t just the outside war, but where talking about internal as well. He’s was created to kill. Murder, whether it be against his own countrymen or the conflict boiling outside their borders.
Being a child of war, he’s a natural at adapting to each change presented to him. Change meant he can remain an unpredictable equation towards his targets. Resourceful when it comes to surviving on his own within unforgiving artic climates of his home region. And the clear lack empathy just as his creators wanted.
They wanted a soldier. They wanted a weapon. Weapons didn’t need the troublesome weight of morality. All they were there for was to be the sword that slaughters his targets. That’s exactly how he lived and breathed until someone came along and thought the war weapon that indeed he had a heart in him gathering dust from lack of use. She showed him and it was for this reason… that he’s trying to learn all he could. But see… three hundred years and the former war weapon wasn’t making as much progress as he liked. Sure he can act, copying was easy. All he needed was facial muscle and the memory of how it should look. But it lacks any form of feeling, he fells nothing absolutely nothing behind that smile of his.
He’s a flirt. A huge flirt be it male or female though his preferences always seem to gravitate towards the opposite gender. But despite it all he takes unprecedented care to keep his distance. No matter how friendly or open this red headed man might seem. It only takes someone willing to spend the time to look closer and they’ll see the clear wall he’s setting for himself. Distance… Distance against the chance of growing closer. Distance against the chance of letting any one close.
For his own sake and the sake of his waning sanity. Not like he has much of that anyway. But his first experience with what its like to lose someone he considered as precious. That’s enough of a reason for Amakusa to keep his distance.
History: Fire… the stench of sulphur burning through his nostrils. Unmistakable through the harsh left over particles still lingering through the freshly tainted land. Marred by war, by the bodies laying haphazardly like strewn forgotten dolls after a bunch of kids got bored and left them there. Then… There was the unholiness of the dark clotting smoke, black as the inky embrace of any noir colour he’s ever seen. This was the scene of death.
Welcome to war, he’d heard the generals joke a few times but to A3GIS this is but a normal day in the ‘office’ but instead of a desk filled with paperwork. The boy was dragged deep by his tipsy toes in the stench of death. War was no stranger, war was all he knew. But seems like were getting a bit head of ourselves?
He was created by them…. To be their war weapon. That’s exactly what the boy was. A war weapon to the people who made him wanted him to be their puppet. They got what they wanted, they got a puppet who’s incapable of experiencing the joys of emotions.
Emotions, tch Who needs them?
A weapon certainly didn’t need it. The boy was never taught the gentleness of an embraced or the warm pat of a father’s loving hand. From the first day he opened his eyes to his current small stature. All he saw. Was the unmistakable sight of the clean. Coldly sterile floors of the facility in which he was ‘born’ no that wasn’t the term. Born isn’t how he came to the world. He was ‘created’ his existence planned from the very beginning from the simple cell swimming within that testtube.
This is how… ‘Amakusa’ Or should we say A3G1S started life. Aegis… as he was called. That was his ‘name’. He had none. All he had was a damn number tattooed in a barcode on his back. Further sign that indeed he wasn’t ‘natural’ and indeed he was nothing but a doll whos entire purpose is to stain his hands red with blood.
He fought, he bled, without showing a tear towards the lives he ended with batting his light tan lashes. Those green orbs seemingly distant to the world around him. So cold, as cold as the ice surrounding him.
But to his handlers he was the perfect puppet made exactly for the war surrounding them from all sides. He was a paint brush and the war infront of him, fighting, killing, slaughter. It was a waiting canvas waiting to be turned into an art form. But did the boy care? He couldn’t feel. He didn’t know how to feel giving the lack of interaction he received. Most of the time, he’s forced to stay within his ‘room’ a sterilized white spartan quarters within the facility until he was needed for either more augmentations or to shed more blood. Their weapon after all… needed to be maintained.
Aegis honestly didn’t kind. He could hardly care in the first place this was but a repeated pattern for him. That was… until
He failed to count the hand of fate meddling in his affairs. What started out as a normal routine job to flush out any rebels turned to be one experience Aegis would soon not forget when he first allowed the thrill in him to have its way around. He god…was it cocky? No it couldn’t he right. But the adrenaline… he felt as he leaped from a small roof down upon an unsuspecting target before ended the poor man’s life by blowing his head clean off its shoulders. That…was thrill. He got too excited. Perhaps he’ll later call it excitement though his handlers would later call it as a need for another reset.
And perhaps it was this reason when… he hardly noticed that damnable explosion that sent seem careening off a damn cliff, right into an awaiting water fall. Lovely…
Oh how lovely.
His entire world went black the moment his prone body hit water. And it was the same water that acted as a form of cushion to save his life. But would he die from drowning? This story teller is not going to lie by saying he didn’t. He almost did, but to his luck the current wasn’t as strong as it should be that day. Lucky. He was indeed blessed by luck for the first time in his life.
Especially when his luck landed him in the care of a young farm girl who was walking to the river to fetch water for her grandfather’s herd. Imagine the girl’s surprise when he found an injured boy seemingly dead. Washed by the current onto the banks. The girl understandably was not only shocked by flabbergasted at how her early morning water collection ended up in her finding a damn corpse.
Slowly she inched closer, and slowly those red eyes of hers matching the curled locks of her reddish neck length hair widened in shock to see a small unmistakeable subtle breathing weakly coming from the boy’s chest. Without any prompting she ran out like a hound of hell were right behind her. Off to get her grandfather.
And that’s… where the boy came too next. Covered in bandages with his arm and leg in a sling and tucked into a warm cozy quilt. His first instincts was to move, injuries or not. Thanks to his near inexistent pain receptors he should be find but before he could, a hand stopped him in his tracks.
“Rest…” The voice said. So soothing that the boy couldn’t help but fall silent. He was too weak indeed but his training opposed against what his body wanted. So did his mind, Crud… that one time the boy mumbled out a curse and it was also… the time he got hit, not for speaking but… for uttering a curse?
Whats more? The hit didn’t have the same intensity as a whip. This felt more like a tap to him. “Don’t curse,” The voice chastised. It was then he decided to turn his head slowly to see just who was talking. Only for him see to the small girl, promptly younger than him in age with the reddish natural locks he’s ever seen compared to the cold light brown he had.
“Where?...”
Croaked the boy. But the girl merely smiled.
“Somewhere…safe..”
Safe… it was a word he hardly knew. But the girl was willing to teach him. At first it confused him why he hardly bothered, they saw him. It means he would have to disposed of them. But he couldn’t. For some odd reason, he couldn’t. The girl’s grandfather was strict, he allowed him to stay but at the same time. The offered a form of ‘fatherly’ affection he never experienced as a child. The longer he stayed the more he found out. Like their names. The girl’s name being Nalia and the old man Junius.
He couldn’t… understand.
And nearly resigned himself to never understanding the strange show of emotions lingering on their faces that was… until the day Nalia taught him the meaning. To smile when happy, he tried but he didn’t know. And she laughed, for some odd reason it brought a small quirk to his lips.
So is this what so called peace felt like?
He…actually wanted it.
And he thought… he had it. That was… until the day they came. A group of soldiers looking for supplies decided to sack the town. Killing everyone who got in their way. Including… his peaceful life. The house, when he came back from hunting was smouldering in flames. The same back smog. The boy’s eyes dropped his kill and immediately went running in. What he saw…
Was pure carnage that shouldn’t be repeated by mere paper so it shan’t for the peace of mind of those reading this.
But no this, he lost them. His little peaceful flower… and the world bled red once more for the soldier. He tracked them out he did, an entire squadron of maybe fifteen men at all. Waited until they camped out before one by one. Offing them. Picking them off like a predator aiming for a big bounty of prey from a wild herd of cocky deer. The soldiers barely saw it coming. By morning light… he repeated the same carnage. Bodies riddled with holes, executed with cold professionalism. And the gun… drop just as the last body did. But this one…the poor man was mauled beyond recognition. Lets just say, there’s a reason he got the moniker. ‘Angel of death.’ Within the battlefield.
He avenged them right?... but why did he feel like he was back to square one. Emptiness?... The lack of feeling?
“Smile for me.”
She said to smile for her… it was then that he noticed he had tears dropping down his cheeks. For the first time in his existence A—No… that wasn’t his name anymore. Why just a few days ago he got a new name from his ‘sister’ Nalia named him Amakusa… Amakusa cried for the first time in his life.
He sobbed, he screamed. And when he was done the boy shakily stood right back. This time. To attend to another task. He went back to bury the charred remnants of his new family before he turned his back. Never again turning his head to the direction of the destroyed village he once called his new home.
♦ SPECIES INFORMATION ♦
Name of Species: Phoenix
Baseline Dimension:Human Form: Any height or weight is possible. It is possible to be aged anywhere between thousands of years before the Ancient War, to freshly born. It's also possible to lose some, most, or all memories in the rebirth process. It is possible for personality to also change in the rebirth process.
Phoenix Form: They are pretty big birds. Anywhere from eagle to larger than human size in the body, not counting wingspan.
Baseline Appearance: Human Form: Due to the widespread of this species, nearly any physical trait is possible. The only thing that sets them apart physically are their eyes, which are unusually vivid colors, and crazy feathers that stick out of their hair at molting season, which is usually once every month.
Phoenix Form: Their eye color is constant regardless of form. While it is most common for phoenixes to have warm hued color schemes such as yellows, oranges, and reds, other colors are possible as well. Color can also change due to rebirth trial results. [See More Phoenix Lore below]
Culture/Origin of Species: While the species has its roots in mediterranean climates and ancient mythology, the Phoenixes as a whole spread throughout the world and assimilated into nearly every society once able to shapeshift into human form. Most cultures have a form of the original pre-war mythos, and thus this species is shaped where the individual grew up. No matter what, though, they are nearly fearless in dangerous situations, making them a fiery, altruistic, and impulsive people. This derives from their disregard for death, since they can be reborn in flames and rise from the ashes once again.
One constant strictly to Phoenix culture is their mecca, hidden away in a secret land simply called Aubade. It's the place where the very first phoenix, Vissarion, still resides with a group of the earliest ancestors. They form the Bask Council and hand down the sun religion and rules for all other phoenixes. While mostly silent, they primarily provide political guidance and orders when needed, as well as the guidelines and rules for rebirth.
The soul of a phoenix after death travels to a spiritual world that is different for each individual, but the challenges and choices made there shape the new phoenix they will become. It tests the strength of character and will, and can have impact on anything from personality to retaining memories of the previous life. Vissarion is said to have one eye in the spiritual realm, making sure phoenixes remain a lawfully aligned species.
Rebirth is not to be taken lightly, since being immortal comes with responsibilities to everyone. Those reborn that chose selfishly or fail some aspects during their spirit trial can become chaotically aligned. Suicide is the heaviest taboo, since it is usually used selfishly to get back to the spiritual world and make changes, good or bad. Vissarion will see such things and dispatch enforcers to either force another rebirth as a reset of sorts, or to ensure the offender dies permanently should they be set on becoming a blight on the Phoenix race. While it is stated that the removal of a soul is permadeath akin to any other races death, there is a rumor that the souls are possibly contained somewhere in Aubade, in a vessel trapped in an inescapable afterlife.
About Age Appearance:
Phoenix form age has little change after going from egg, to chick, to adult bird. Once a phoenix’s body reaches adult form, this is the way it will stay for all of time, no matter how old. Vissarion’s phoenix form looks just as young and spry as a newly matured phoenix. Upon death and rebirth, a phoenix turns to ash and forms back into an egg. Once reborn, there is brief period between hours and days that a phoenix once more grows up from chick to adult.
Human form is a bit different. Phoenixes have a funny relationship with time, so they can actually directly control how old their human form is that they shapeshift into depending on where they need to fit in. For instance, if a phoenix needs to go back to school to relearn things dulled by time, they can appear as children and teens once more. If they are in a position of power and need to seem wise to all races, like Vissarion, they can assume a middle-aged or even elderly form. Rebirth affects human form as well. After hatching, if in human form they will rapidly age from infant to whatever their desired age is.
About Vissarion:
In appearance, the head of the Bask Council and the authority to all phoenix kind is a magnificent white bird with golden flames. In human form, he has adopted the the general appearance of an elderly man, so as to capitalize on most species’ perception that age equals respect and wisdom. His hair is white like his feathers, and his skin is a healthy tan from much time in the sun’s rays. His right eye is the deepest blue, while the left is white and lacks a pupil. The left eye is the one that can see into the spirit world and watches all rebirths, a gift to him from the sun god they worship. The ancient being is completely neutral to the point where it really is everything for the greater good, no matter what, and does not hesitate to make harsh decisions as long as it is for the good of all phoenixes as he sees it. He may also be responsible for memory loss within the trials.
About Rebirth Trials:
When a phoenix dies, the soul goes to its own personal spirit world, which is ultimately a place where they are tested before rebirth. Each spirit world is designed differently and finely attuned to test each individual phoenix, acting as a trial to target weaknesses and reward strengths. However, there is always temptation. Two gods war for a phoenix’s soul, offering different options during the trials to overcome obstacles and situations. The phoenix will not know which influence is which, making the trials very difficult and not to be taken lightly. In the eyes of phoenix law, good rebirths result from making most decisions aligned with the sun god they worship. Bad rebirths are falling victim to the moon god’s choices, which chips away at a phoenix’s natural ability to manifest good qualities, and ultimately drags them toward an chaotic alignment.
Repeated bad rebirths will warp a phoenix a little more each time. After so many and depending on the severity of a bad phoenix’s actions, Vissarion will dispatch enforcers to force one last chance at salvaging the soul. Ideally the offender learns to remedy the mistakes in the trials and returns to the approval of the sun god, but should that not happen, the Bask Enforcers will either imprison the phoenix for rehabilitation, or strip the phoenix of their soul to cause permadeath.
Another issue that will bring the wrath of the Bask Council is suicide. Since phoenixes are immortal, the purpose of killing themselves isn’t for traditional means of escape, but rather to enter the rebirth trials on their own terms to selfishly alter themselves for various reasons, good or bad. Those who have taken their own lives are automatically branded and hunted. Their souls are forcefully removed.
Playable Phoenixes-- Sun Phoenixes, Bask Enforcers, Moon Phoenixes, and Twilighters:
With the mechanic of rebirths, the world has found itself with variants of phoenixes.
Sun phoenixes are the most common of the species, making up the reckless heroic types we know and love. They reliably rebirth good when it comes to it. These are the culturally acceptable, law abiding souls unquestionably loyal to the sun, Aubade, the Bask Council, and each other. They are the frontlines in the wars and the protectors of the weak. Not all sun phoenixes are perfect, but they strive to be so Vissarion and the sun god will be pleased with them.
Bask Enforcers are the cream of the crop of sun phoenixes. They have proven themselves with very good rebirths, displaying top loyalty to Aubade and the Bask Council enough to become the most trusted elite force. They are extensively trained in Aubade to be the strongest, and even forced to rebirth repeatedly to weed out imperfections and cleanse pesky memories that could pose problems. Many enforcers stay in Aubade with the other ancients on the council as protection and a quick scramble military force, but others are allowed out into the world as reserves and are expected to be on-call if they're needed. They are in possession of a special lantern housing a black hole, called a Null Lantern. All an enforcer must do is utter the full name of the offending phoenix, command the lantern to ‘clip their wings’, and the Null Lantern will suck in all the light in range along with the offender’s soul.
Twilighters are those who have had bad rebirths and are stuck in between. They have retained some of their positive traits, but also have negative ones to complicate things. These have not yet fallen too far into the moon god’s grasp, thus not earning a visit from Bask Enforcers. They are closely watched by Vissarion’s spirit eye, though.
Moon phoenixes have traveled too far down the dark road, listening to the swaying hiss of the moon god too easily. A notable shift in personalities and identities as a whole has happened, giving life to a darkness within. A poor rebirth manifests the more negative personality traits. It’s how normally heroic phoenixes can become thieves, murderers, liars, adulterers, etc. They'll be more apt to manipulate others and slink around in the shadows. Their feathers will take on darker colors. Once a phoenix gives in to getting tainted or taken over by the moon god’s temptation, things get more complicated. It is against phoenix religion, thus they are branded and hunted, forced to rebirth so the trial can potentially send them back to the sun. If they fail the forced trial again, they are subject to imprisonment within Aubade or permadeath.
Traits: • Immortality: Phoenixes can die, yes, but they are reborn either in a fiery blaze or rise up from the ashes within hours. They have 3 points in vitality.
• Pyromancy: Naturally attuned to flame, phoenixes are more adept with using the element to both harm and protect, and sometimes as a source of spooky divination.
• Fire Eagle Eyes: Birds have some pretty impressive sight when it comes to range and distance. Don't expect to get much past them.
• Partial Shape Shifting: Due to being immortal and having a high vitality phoenixes have control over their natural shapeshifting allowing them to partially shift.
Flaws:
• Molting: Molting happens about once a month, and renders a phoenix exhausted and lazy. It's almost like an illness such as a cold, where they will appear less than healthy and cough ash. This lasts anywhere from 1 to 4 days, but robs them of their flames until the fire is rekindled and burns the molting away.
• Praise the Light: They become weaker in darkness. Anything that blocks the light of the sun or moon from them for an extended amount of time will sap their strength.
