Post by Fue Miyunaji on Aug 11, 2009 19:17:27 GMT -5
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Character Information |::
Character Information |::Fue Miyunaji
Type: Original
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Homosexual
Status: Single
Interest: Nobody...yet...
Face Claim: Guileastos from 1/2 Prince
Appearance:
(Ignore the damn pointy ears. They're supposed to be round. ">.>)
Personality:
With an IQ of 200, Miyunaji experiences the traumas of being a lonely genius. He overthinks just about everything in half the time it takes an average nin to gather the minimum amount of material. He appreciates the tiniest things in nature: things many others might consider tedious or difficult to comprehend. And because he takes interest in such different things from others, he has forced himself into a world of his own.
History:
(EVERY CHARACTER NEEDS THIS! What is your character's life story? Any tragic events? etc, etc. 5 paragraphs MINIMUM. If you are a CANON [such as Tenten, perhaps], whom we don't actually know any history of, use your imagination! Come up with something! =D)
Chakra Element: (Not mandatory, but if you know it [i.e. Naruto's or Asuma's element is Wind, etc etc] then put it in.)
Rank: Jounin
Affiliation: Kumogakure
Weapons: (What weapons do they carry?)
Known Jutsu: (Please list any jutsu they know. Do not overdo it, but have a fairly good arsenal. Please also put a description of what the jutsu does, unless it's something self-explanatory such as Kage Bunshin.)
Theme Songs(s): Optional, but they're fun to do. Max 7 songs.
Extra Notes: Any notes that don't apply to any of the sections.
: Puppeteer Information |::
Puppeteer Information |::Your Name: Elfie
Your Age: 16
Read The Manga / Seen The Anime? *takes out hack-saw*
How'd you find me?! *waves weapon menacingly*
Rule Code: Taiyo
Sample RP:
(This is from that same ATLA RP. An example of what I normally post once action starts happening. *is embarassed by her current, incredibly short post length* Oh, and at the time, GMing of those weaker demons was allowed, which is why she went into a slaughter fest.)
The mangled woman lay in the mud, a tired and sad lump of nothing. She was drained of tears and blood and all tangible emotions. The pain was a dull buzz prickling through her nervous system. Her brain had reverted back to its old methods of complete ignorance. Slowly creeping, a single, abstract idea penetrated her muddled thoughts. Irony. Was this not right back where she had started?
The beginning of her second life it had been—the time that had lead straight up to her long, bright career as a burlesque dancer and prostitute. Her first encounter with Kay that gave her the realization that she had lost all girlish innocence had happened then. She had told herself there was no one in this world she could trust, no one but her mother and sisters. Today it was a different recognition. Her daughters were far away, separated by the vast sea. And her love...was now ripped into a thousand little pieces, a stray scrap of skin and a piece of bone the only evidence that he had lived at all. She never believed the feelings of desertion and hopelessness she had felt all those years ago could have been recreated, but now at this moment, she understood that they had been trumped beyond comparison.
The physical pain had been nothing. It never was to her. Beatings, rape, torture, she had known them all. All were part of the job. What she had not known, and could never have prepared for, was the acute, searing pain in her heart as she had rushed to save him. She had hurried with all her might, ripping and clawing her way to get to him, only to be dragged back and forced to watch helplessly as he was stolen from her through a morbid display of demonic hunger. How she had been beaten and tossed aside, and spat on for all she was worth. Kilon had been the only man amongst the sea of many, who come forward to physically claim and dominate her mind you, that had succeeded fully in stealing her heart. And he had taken it with him to the grave. All those instances she could have spent with him, cherishing him, loving him, were gone and wasted in her petty hatred. Not even had she taken a kiss from him before the end had come. His last words to her rang in her ears now, the sound of his voice still clear in her mind, “You’re wearing that long face for me, my love?”
And she had smiled wryly and replied, “I cannot help it.”
An abrupt shudder stopped the self-induced numbness momentarily. She could still feel his touch on her skin. Hot silent tears streamed down her face again. How plentiful they had become in the last several moments. So many years without them, and suddenly they refused to leave her. Nova was certain then: she would never love again.
Slowly and hesitantly, she used her good arm to roll over in the mud and prop herself up. All was dismal and near finished. The demon that had eaten Kilon had run, and the people responsible for his death had escaped. Heng Gang lay dead a little ways away, Hara and Ryu beaten, Felix barely breathing nearby her, and the others could not be seen from her point. She had been useless and too late.
A fist formed in her good hand as the hot rage shot through her. This was not over. It would never be until that demon and its masters lay dead by her hand. She would avenge him if it took an eternity; if it cost her her own life, she would gladly die knowing that the bastards had been dragged to Hell with her. The fury gave her overwhelming power, though her body could only go as far as the injuries allowed. She staggered to her feet slowly, a heavy limp in her right leg and her left arm dangly useless at her side. She knew she had healing to do, but right now, she did not care. She would fix everyone later, when there were no more demons flying about.
If she had been at full strength, she would have stamped over to her destination. But she was not, so she was forced to stagger, which, admittedly, did not look as menacing to her prey. She reached the area where Kilon’s remaining pieces lay and breathed heavily as the tears continued to run. Never again. She knelt to the ground and passed her fingers over his sparse remains. His warm blood touched her skin, turning it scarlet. She passed her hand over the area until she found what she had been looking for: one of her love’s signature tomahawks. It would serve nicely for what she would do. She ran her blood-stained hand caressingly across the blade, smiling at the sting of the cut it created. Finished, her expression hardened, and she snatched it up in her good hand faster than one would have thought possible.
She felt the anger boiling inside her, crying out to quench her thirst for vengeance—or at least satisfy it temporarily. That, she could do.
Shifting her weight slightly, not even bothering to brace for the pain that would follow, she shrank downwards in a crouch as her first victim soared down to feed upon her. At the last possible moment, the axe shot upward into the demon’s chest, and its hellish blood splashed upon Nova. But she did not pause to relish the feeling. She was now a target, food that wanted to play some more before it was eaten, so all the demons in the immediate area rushed for her. She caught the tomahawk up in her hand and leapt from her place as three canine-like demons crashed into each other. Since their masters were no longer there to keep them on task, they started a slight brawl. She came up behind one of them and sheathed the axe violently between its rear shoulder blades and bent ice spikes from the rain to pierce the other two in their faces. As they yelped in pain and charged at her, she slid to the side in a dodge roll, sending a blade of ice to each, one decapitating a demon, and the other catching it in the chest cavity.
She regained steady footing and walked up to withdraw her weapon from the dead carcass of the first of the trio, not bothering to even turn all the way as she slammed it into the side of the decapitated demon that had still been tossing about in a frenzy.
Taking it again from the dead beast, she glanced upwards as more flyers came after her. She wound her wrist and threw the thing into the armpit of one, piercing another’s wings with a frenzy of one-handed ice spikes. She paused to grab the axe again, which gave room for a third one to snatch her up into the air by her bad arm. If she had been giving way to the roaring pain in her body all this time, she might have cared that the appendage was nearly ripped clean off. But she did not. She merely swung on it lightly and brought the tomahawk back into the winged beast’s throat. It fell, and she with it.
They landed in a heap together and struggling greatly she crawled out from under it and proceeded to hack it to pieces with the axe. Finally assured that it too was dead, she glanced around the battlefield once more. Whether there were more minor demons to kill was hard to say, but the last fall had done too much damage to her legs to let her handle any more intense fighting. She felt the adrenaline slowly leaving her system. Ah, so it was time to heal, eh?
Slowly, slowly she made her way over to where Felix lay. She stumbled slightly, but managed to stay on her feet. She fell a bit as she came down to his side and began silently healing his wounds. Her eyes were lifeless, and her hand was slow. She realized her lack of speed was only made worse by that searing pain in her left arm, so she paused in her healing to tend to it. She brought it up to her lap using her only good hand. The feeling was leaving her anyway: if she waited much longer she would lose her arm. “Forgive me, Felix,” she said as she took fresh water from her water skin and let the healing and mending begin on it.
Oh, how it drained her. She been thrown around and beaten more times than she could count in the last few hours, and how she managed to stay conscious now still escaped her. If she hadn’t gotten so much rest and food earlier, she decided, she would not have been able to. The water slid along her arm, mending the bone with practiced effort from all its shattered pieces. She closed the gashes and sealed the great, gaping laceration she had received at the beginning of the fight. When she finished her hand dropped, and the water splattered onto her grimy, bloody skirt.
The pain from the wound was gone, but the everywhere else it only intensified. The session she had given herself made her aware of all her other injuries: cracked and fractured ribs, severe damage to her internal organs, a minor head concussion, a sprain in her left ankle while her right leg had a great gash in it, and various other scrapes and bruises. They all were more sensitive now, and each seemed to cry out individually for aid. That, and her broken heart, battered mind, and seriously depleted reserves of spiritual energy made it difficult for her to even move, let alone continue to heal anyone.
Ryu came seconds later, asking for Kilon. His words came as a blur in her ears. She sighed as a fresh wave of ache stung in her heart. “Gone, Ryu, and he’s not coming back.” She may have addressed Ryu, but it was more like she was speaking to herself. A hand fell involuntarily to her belt, where the bloodied tomahawk rested—perhaps that would answer his questions. Her fatigue was too much for her, she could feel her senses slipping. She would not die, though, she knew that. Only faint. Felix would be strong enough to walk about, surely, but he needed longer to be fully healed. She would have smirked had she the energy to move her lips that much. Instead, she only mumbled. “I’m sorry, my friend. I-I don’t have the energy to heal you all right now. Please l-let me rest a few moments. I’ll be r-right with you...” Her words drifted off as she fell asleep from exhaustion. It was up to Ryu and Felix whether they woke her or let her be.