Naruto: Crisis: Shinobi Fate


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Azir Rose

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White Rose Dragon



Posts : 56
Join date : 2015-12-04

Azir Rose

Post by White Rose Dragon on Tue Jan 24, 2017 9:23 pm




• Name: Azir Ibn Lahakeem (Arabic, Azir, son of the unwise / fool.)
• Nickname / Alias: Azir, Rose
• Title: The Contradiction, The lost child.
• Age: 15
• Gender: Male
• Sexuality: Bisexual






• Height: 5 Feet 7 Inches.
• Weight: 155lbs
• Body type: Slimish, Athletic
• Eye colour: Dark red on right eye, Light Blue on the other.
• Hair colour & style: Brown and jagged, bangs covering forehead.
• General Appearance:


Just, miss me with the markings on the face.

Rose wears around his face, a white scarf that can also be used to cover his hair and forehead when traveling. He also wears a simple white, shirt and Jet-black slim-fit pants. Over all of this, he wears his deceased father's traveling Cloak, which was originally white but brown from use, but was eventually dyed completely black by rose while on his travels.

• Markings: Scar of the symbol of Jashin on his left hand.



• Persona:
An optimistic pessimist. Azir has suffered with depression all his life, and inwardly, struggles to stay positive. Outwardly, however, Azir is kind and an affectionate person, constantly smiling and showing that he cares for the wellbeing of everyone he meets.

Rose hates the fact that, as a Jashinist, he has to take lives constantly. He resents the once worshipped Jashin for it, and he does his best to treat those who have passed, especially those who have passed by his own hand with the utmost respect.

When he has no choice but to kill, he does his best only to go after the perverts and absolutely crude of society, but hr doesn't feel comfortable taking out murders. He feels a moral dilemma in killing those who've killed others. On one hand, he feels that no one deserves to die, and that killing someone else should be punished by death. On the other hand, who is he to play God. If he were to kill another murderer solely for the fact that they have killed before, then he'd deserve to die as well. Only, because of his circumstance, he understands how that's not possible.

• Motto:
”No one deserves to die.”

• Likes:
Flowers of any kind
Art
Poetry
Religion
Honesty

• Dislikes:
Alcohol
Death
Confrontation
Lies and deceit
Jashin







• Special Characteristics:
[Clickable Link]The Curse of Jashin


• Rank:
A, Jounin
• Elements: none.

Specialty:Bukijutsu
Specialty:Taijutsu


• Clan: None
• Bijuu: None

Stats:
A-Rank: 280 total stats

• Strength: 90
• Speed: 90
• Durability: 90
• Chakra: 10






• Village: Sukaigakure
• Parents: Sufyan Abu Lahad. (Sufyan, Father of no one), Father
Imani Bint Haythum, (Imani, Daughter of Haythum), Mother
• Mentor & Idols: Kaishi Senshi

• History:
Growing up, Rose had to be the perfect child. Being the only son, his mother looked to him for perfection, expecting him to be better than she ever was and absolutely nothing like his father. There was no time for arts and games, every minute had to be devoted to studying. The idea of fun she had for her son was having him do rush math problems and reading boring books about the anatomy of different animals. Granted, at times he enjoyed himself, like when his mother would show off his intelligence to her friends, but he never got to explore himself and enjoy his life. Later on, when looking back Rose would realize his mother tried to live vicariously through him.

Rose wanted to be an artist ultimately. He loved to draw pictures, color and paint, read poetry books and fantasy genres; but his mother would have none of that. The only times he'd be able to draw or anything of the like was at night when she slept, and on days where she worked late hours.

Nowadays, Rose has no interest in furthering his studies. He loves being a freelance artist, and feels passionate about his work. There's something satisfying about receiving praise for something he's made, even when it's only given out of courtesy. Seeing others smile out of appreciation, or something as simple as a thank you is all rose wants for himself.

In the Arab community, your lineage is based through your father, and not your mother. Rose’s father was an alcoholic, who would constantly lash out at his wife and cheat on her. He could never hold a job and ultimately did more harm than good. His mother was reluctant at first, but eventually decided on taking her son and running far away from her husband. Something about this decision pushed his mother to decide that Rose must become better than both of his parents, and she prayed that Nurture would overcome Nature and genetics.

Roses father was ridiculed for this. For the Arabs, a woman leaving the husband is an embarrassment on par with no other. Eventually he became known as Sufyan, Abu La Ahad [Sufyan, the father of no one]. Out of resentment, he decided that Rose and his mother could both rot for all he cared. He eventually figured out where they were hiding - not a lot of places to hide in the desert - but didn't care enough to do anything with that knowledge.

Until one slander full, drunken night, Sufyan took his jagged dagger, prepared his camel and went out in an attempt to kill his wife and son.

Rose had a strange feeling that something would happen that night, but he didn't know what. A cold rush went down his spine, as he decided to close his hands, lower his heads and pray. He had read about the deity known as Jashin in one of his books, and felt something of a connection just from reading the stories and the legend of Hidan the Immortal. He wasn't sure if the  were true or, just that, legends. But for some reason, he just didn't care. He took a small knife he kept under his pillow and carved a small symbol Jashin on his left palm, then began to pray.

Dear Jashin, grant me the power to protect myself.

I will, but it comes at a price

Just as he heard the whisper, he heard a loud crash. With the small knife still in his hand, he sees his mother flailing defensively, pinned against the floor by his father. Her dress is torn as she is screaming and crying for help, while Sufyan's left hand is firmly pressed against her throat, right hand carrying the dagger in a drunken attempt to stab his wife.

Everything happens in an instant; his mother trying to free herself from his death grip to breathe, using the freehand to keep the knife from coming down on her, but there's nothing she can do. She's losing her breath, being choked out on the floor, loses her strength and can no longer prevent the knife from being plummeted through her chest.

Rose didn't have much time to think. It felt like everything happened before his brain, which did nothing but process complicated concepts, could make sense of what happened. In a rage, a release of stress and bottled up emotions, Rose rushed at his father, knife in hand, shrieking at the top of his lungs before blacking out completely.



By the time he woke up, nothing felt real. He was lying on the ground in an immense amount of pain. He tried to sit upwards but a sharp shock from his chest put him back to the ground, writhing in agony. He began to use his left hand to feel around his chest, only to find his father's dagger was lodged deep in his heart. Looking around, turning his head slightly he sees to the left of him the corpse of his mother, and to his right, his father. Examining around him more he noticed he wasn't just lying in blood.

He was lying in blood, on the symbol of Jashin.

I accept your sacrifice

In that instance, Rose made sense of all he read. Every legend he had heard, every theory about Jashin. He realized he had made a covenant not with a god, but with a devil. Forcing himself to stand, he slowly and painfully pulled the knife out of his chest. He attempted to do it in a slow and methodical way, but realized that it only felt worse, which made him decide to yank the knife fully out.

Rose stood up, went to his room, and packed a small bag of clothing, water and dried barley. He slowly made his way back to the front room, where he had left his parents corpses. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Rose had no love for him, and no known Jashinist had ever buried the bodies of his victims. Yet, by heritage, it'd be a disgrace to not bury their bodies and were given the respect they deserved. Rose fell to the ground of their home, which ultimately was no more than sand and mud bricks to form a wall, placed on top of regular desert ground. It took him hours, especially considering how wounded he was, but he had eventually dug a deep enough hole to but both bodies in.

After he was done, he swore to himself to be a different jashinist. To only kill when he had to, to treat all life as sacred, and to make sure that the remains of the dead were treated with dignity, and respect. Not left out to rot like his predecessors did. He would be nothing like Hidan.

Rose limped to the outside of their Dune, where he found his father's camel and his small travel sack. In it he found a black traveling turban, which was long enough to cover both the face and forehead as well as the hair. He also found a long traveler's cloak, which was originally white but grew a light brown from excessive use. As well as more water and dried bread, he noticed a small compartment on the inside of the bag wrapped around the camel. In it he saw a shiny, silver beaded necklace with the symbol of Jashin, and a note that read, roughly translated from Arabic, “Keishin, Sky Country”.

This was all Rose needed. He knew that this was a gift from the Devil Jashin. He understood that Jashin wants rose to seek this man out, but he was unsure of the Devils ultimate plan.

He got on his father's camel, and began traveling west, towards a small village near where he and his mother lived, or rather, used to live. He knew at least someone there could point Rose to the Sky Country, and hopefully, once there, whoever kaishi was could help guide Rose in some manner.




• Roleplay Sample:

(I threw this together as a basis for a Hoshigaki character a while ago but that idea got gutted. Hopefully it's good enough as a sample)

We all know the story of Moses. The story of a prophetic being who came from humble beginnings. The story of the young man who would one day show his greatness and oppose the most powerful ruler of the land, and the story of his poor mother who had to send him in a box, floating down a river in hopes that he would live. This is a story that our parents told us, and that we will continue to tell our children for years to come.

Kyonaru’s story may begin similarly, but I assure you, there is nothing great about him.

The Village hidden in the Mist had long been abolished. In this current time, it is nothing more but a  run down, near ghost-town. Nowadays, it is often used as a hideout and gathering spot for Missing-Nin, and an area where contraband trade offs often occur. There is little food available, as most merchants tend to avoid the area as best as they can. Here, The old, sick, and weak don't last. Survival of the fittest couldn't be more of a truth.

But Kyonarus family wasn't ‘fit’ for anything.

His mother lived in poverty, and was forced to become a night worker to provide for her family. She was an honest worker for all of her life, but eventually, honesty no longer became an option. Her father was ill, but she couldn't afford medicine. Her siblings were hungry, but she couldn't afford food. And after working at the brothel constantly, her unborn bastard child was something that she also couldn't afford.

Almost exactly like the story of Moses, Kyonaru was put into a box and sent down a river, with nothing but the hopes of his mother that he would live, survive, and make something of himself. Kyonaru, the son of a whore, the bastard, the orphan, was all on his own, at the mercy of fate.

We’ve all heard the stories. The most unlikely of characters suffers a tragic beginning, lives his life without purpose, yet, through perseverance, dedication and hard work, becomes the hero of legend. He finds the villain, or whatever, defeats them, and gets the girl of his dreams. We all have heard those stories, we all love them.




This isn't one of those stories.




“There's hidden meaning in everything”
Those words seem to resonate in my mind. It’s human nature to fear what you don't understand, and to question that which is feared. I learned that long ago, being stuck in this. . Voidness of a room. Here, absolutely nothing makes sense, yet, there is complete order to the chaos. For the past 17 years, each day for me has been exactly the same. I wake up in a soft, white mattress with IV tubes sticking out of my body, injecting foreign liquid into me. 'What is my purpose’ I would think. Contemplating my own existence, looking for something to cling on to.


But finding nothing.

Tall men in long, white clothing surrounding me, a stomach in discomfort, and a throbbing headache.

“There's hidden meaning in everything” a different one of them would say each day. After I wake up, they would give me some kind of black pill - or at least, that's what they called it - to swallow, and a cup of water to drink it down. The headache would immediately die down,after having finished the drink, and my hunger and thirst would disappear as well. When I’m around these men, I can’t help but feel a discomfort. I’m not sure if I should do as they say, yet, when they make a command, I immediately oblige. Almost as if they aren't speaking to me. My body just follows their every instructions before I can think.

Soon after this, they would again tell me to lie down, commanding me to sleep. As I fall into a state of rest, sometimes, I'm able to catch a few words and phrases that give me a bit of an idea of what their doing to me.

“Continue with the experiment”
“The subject shows signs of. .”
“Operation Hoshigaki”

Following that. . darkness. Nothing but emptiness fills my consciousness, until I, again awake, only to repeat the day before. That feeling of redundancy is the only feeling I know.I used to count the amount of days that have passed, but I've lost count of how many times I've lost count.

On the rare occasion, the men would give me some kind of task to perform, which I assume has something to deal with their progress. Often times, it’d be something simple; tell them a story, draw a picture, or to walk from one side of the room to the other. What’s universally strange about all of these, however, is that I never learned how to perform any of these tasks, yet they seemed to come to me as if they were practically given to me. I am not creative, nor have I ever heard any stories, yet I would always make something up about a strong, or wise man, with a dream of becoming hero. Nor am I one to quickly adapt, but when I am told to draw a picture, I always seem to quickly sketch down exactly what these men looked like; even their faces, which were constantly hidden behind masks.

Sometimes, however, the men give me a bit more complex of a task. Usually, after the task is complete, they tell me to again lie down, and by  ordered me to do. The men escorted me to a huge, deep body of water in the dark cave that we stayed in. I was told to go under the water, and stay down under until I needed to come up from air.

Something they did to me, I assume it having to deal with their Hoshigaki thing, ended up with me having slits on my neck, or gills as they referred to it. That one task, I remember feeling at ease, and not needing to come back for air.

Life for me was primarily composed of sleeping and performing whatever order these men wanted me to execute. Basic human nature would have any normal person immediately question these commands. But how could I? This was all I know.

Today, the men handed me a small parchment, which I was ordered to read. “ Read everything, then read everything in the red ” One of them stated.

There lies mysteries, hidden from those who cannot see. The meaning of those enigmas that occur in everything lies directly in front of you, yet you will never be able to observe it.”

By now, I was tired of hearing that quote. I was tired of living my life in a cave, and I was tired of knowing nothing. I want to know about my life. I want to understand my purpose of being here, and to know who. . or by now, what I am. I want to understand why these men. .play with my body and keep my mind simplified as if I’m trapped. . and I want to comprehend why i am treated in this cave like nothing I’m no more than a lab rat.

Someone says to me that I’ve done well, and that I have please d them in my actions. “save me the struggle of having to clear your memories.” I hear from a distance. “You can keep them, plus, it's clear you have a million questions in your head, but this is neither the time or place.”

But I don’t know what it means to question. I don't understand what it means to be curious in the least bit, it's a concept that has never crossed my mind. I know that I am human, or at least I am told I am, and I know that it isn't a normal ‘human’ thing to do, but I would do anything for these men, even though I have nothing but apathy for them. I try to understand why. . why I am so willing to obey the men that i feel nothing towards, yet, it still makes no sense to me.

I hear a rumbling outside of the cave walls. An explosion, perhaps, of some sort? The men look to each other in confusion, and all immediately rush outside of the doors. All but one of them.

As far as I am concerned, these men would throw my life away in a heartbeat if it were to serve their purpose. I’m nothing more than a tool, that these men test whatever they want on for their ‘progress’. My only purpose for living, is so these men can master whatever goal they are attempting to reach. To them, I am nothing more than an experiment that lives to please , to save their research. And to me, they are just. . The Men in White

The one who remained gave me one final order.

He told me to lie down, and that everything would be alright.


Last edited by White Rose Dragon on Thu Jan 26, 2017 1:24 am; edited 7 times in total
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Satoru The Calamity



Posts : 111
Join date : 2015-12-27

Re: Azir Rose

Post by Satoru The Calamity on Tue Jan 24, 2017 9:50 pm

Sure approved

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White Rose Dragon



Posts : 56
Join date : 2015-12-04

Re: Azir Rose

Post by White Rose Dragon on Wed Jan 25, 2017 6:09 pm

Edit: Changed Specialties, Removed the chakra elements.
Edit 2: Changed elements after discovering I could use them.
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Katsuo Hachirou



Posts : 73
Join date : 2017-01-12

Re: Azir Rose

Post by Katsuo Hachirou on Wed Jan 25, 2017 10:17 pm

You can't. That was a fuck up on my part.
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Katsuo Hachirou



Posts : 73
Join date : 2017-01-12

Re: Azir Rose

Post by Katsuo Hachirou on Wed Jan 25, 2017 10:19 pm

It was a bunch of missing information of my part, and I'm truly sorry about any problems this may cause.
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White Rose Dragon



Posts : 56
Join date : 2015-12-04

Re: Azir Rose

Post by White Rose Dragon on Wed Jan 25, 2017 10:21 pm

Edited again, dropped the elements.
Is there anything I can exchange it for? I noticed that, as a Jashinist, were already limited to 2 specialties and 0 elements.
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Kenshin



Posts : 347
Join date : 2015-12-23

Re: Azir Rose

Post by Kenshin on Thu Jan 26, 2017 1:26 am

White Rose Dragon wrote:



• Name: Azir Ibn Lahakeem (Arabic, Azir, son of the unwise / fool.)
• Nickname / Alias: Azir, Rose
• Title: The Contradiction, The lost child.
• Age: 15
• Gender: Male
• Sexuality: Bisexual






• Height: 5 Feet 7 Inches.
• Weight: 155lbs
• Body type: Slimish, Athletic
• Eye colour: Dark red on right eye, Light Blue on the other.
• Hair colour & style: Brown and jagged, bangs covering forehead.
• General Appearance:


Just, miss me with the markings on the face.

Rose wears around his face, a white scarf that can also be used to cover his hair and forehead when traveling. He also wears a simple white, shirt and Jet-black slim-fit pants. Over all of this, he wears his deceased father's traveling Cloak, which was originally white but brown from use, but was eventually dyed completely black by rose while on his travels.

• Markings: Scar of the symbol of Jashin on his left hand.



• Persona:
An optimistic pessimist. Azir has suffered with depression all his life, and inwardly, struggles to stay positive. Outwardly, however, Azir is kind and an affectionate person, constantly smiling and showing that he cares for the wellbeing of everyone he meets.

Rose hates the fact that, as a Jashinist, he has to take lives constantly. He resents the once worshipped Jashin for it, and he does his best to treat those who have passed, especially those who have passed by his own hand with the utmost respect.

When he has no choice but to kill, he does his best only to go after the perverts and absolutely crude of society, but hr doesn't feel comfortable taking out murders. He feels a moral dilemma in killing those who've killed others. On one hand, he feels that no one deserves to die, and that killing someone else should be punished by death. On the other hand, who is he to play God. If he were to kill another murderer solely for the fact that they have killed before, then he'd deserve to die as well. Only, because of his circumstance, he understands how that's not possible.

• Motto:
”No one deserves to die.”

• Likes:
Flowers of any kind
Art
Poetry
Religion
Honesty

• Dislikes:
Alcohol
Death
Confrontation
Lies and deceit
Jashin







• Special Characteristics:
[Clickable Link]The Curse of Jashin


• Rank:
A, Jounin
• Elements: none.

Specialty:Bukijutsu
Specialty:Taijutsu


• Clan: None
• Bijuu: None

Stats:
A-Rank: 280 total stats

• Strength: 90
• Speed: 90
• Durability: 90
• Chakra: 10






• Village: Sukaigakure
• Parents: Sufyan Abu Lahad. (Sufyan, Father of no one), Father
Imani Bint Haythum, (Imani, Daughter of Haythum), Mother
• Mentor & Idols: Kaishi Senshi

• History:
Growing up, Rose had to be the perfect child. Being the only son, his mother looked to him for perfection, expecting him to be better than she ever was and absolutely nothing like his father. There was no time for arts and games, every minute had to be devoted to studying. The idea of fun she had for her son was having him do rush math problems and reading boring books about the anatomy of different animals. Granted, at times he enjoyed himself, like when his mother would show off his intelligence to her friends, but he never got to explore himself and enjoy his life. Later on, when looking back Rose would realize his mother tried to live vicariously through him.

Rose wanted to be an artist ultimately. He loved to draw pictures, color and paint, read poetry books and fantasy genres; but his mother would have none of that. The only times he'd be able to draw or anything of the like was at night when she slept, and on days where she worked late hours.

Nowadays, Rose has no interest in furthering his studies. He loves being a freelance artist, and feels passionate about his work. There's something satisfying about receiving praise for something he's made, even when it's only given out of courtesy. Seeing others smile out of appreciation, or something as simple as a thank you is all rose wants for himself.

In the Arab community, your lineage is based through your father, and not your mother. Rose’s father was an alcoholic, who would constantly lash out at his wife and cheat on her. He could never hold a job and ultimately did more harm than good. His mother was reluctant at first, but eventually decided on taking her son and running far away from her husband. Something about this decision pushed his mother to decide that Rose must become better than both of his parents, and she prayed that Nurture would overcome Nature and genetics.

Roses father was ridiculed for this. For the Arabs, a woman leaving the husband is an embarrassment on par with no other. Eventually he became known as Sufyan, Abu La Ahad [Sufyan, the father of no one]. Out of resentment, he decided that Rose and his mother could both rot for all he cared. He eventually figured out where they were hiding - not a lot of places to hide in the desert - but didn't care enough to do anything with that knowledge.

Until one slander full, drunken night, Sufyan took his jagged dagger, prepared his camel and went out in an attempt to kill his wife and son.

Rose had a strange feeling that something would happen that night, but he didn't know what. A cold rush went down his spine, as he decided to close his hands, lower his heads and pray. He had read about the deity known as Jashin in one of his books, and felt something of a connection just from reading the stories and the legend of Hidan the Immortal. He wasn't sure if the  were true or, just that, legends. But for some reason, he just didn't care. He took a small knife he kept under his pillow and carved a small symbol Jashin on his left palm, then began to pray.

Dear Jashin, grant me the power to protect myself.

I will, but it comes at a price

Just as he heard the whisper, he heard a loud crash. With the small knife still in his hand, he sees his mother flailing defensively, pinned against the floor by his father. Her dress is torn as she is screaming and crying for help, while Sufyan's left hand is firmly pressed against her throat, right hand carrying the dagger in a drunken attempt to stab his wife.

Everything happens in an instant; his mother trying to free herself from his death grip to breathe, using the freehand to keep the knife from coming down on her, but there's nothing she can do. She's losing her breath, being choked out on the floor, loses her strength and can no longer prevent the knife from being plummeted through her chest.

Rose didn't have much time to think. It felt like everything happened before his brain, which did nothing but process complicated concepts, could make sense of what happened. In a rage, a release of stress and bottled up emotions, Rose rushed at his father, knife in hand, shrieking at the top of his lungs before blacking out completely.



By the time he woke up, nothing felt real. He was lying on the ground in an immense amount of pain. He tried to sit upwards but a sharp shock from his chest put him back to the ground, writhing in agony. He began to use his left hand to feel around his chest, only to find his father's dagger was lodged deep in his heart. Looking around, turning his head slightly he sees to the left of him the corpse of his mother, and to his right, his father. Examining around him more he noticed he wasn't just lying in blood.

He was lying in blood, on the symbol of Jashin.

I accept your sacrifice

In that instance, Rose made sense of all he read. Every legend he had heard, every theory about Jashin. He realized he had made a covenant not with a god, but with a devil. Forcing himself to stand, he slowly and painfully pulled the knife out of his chest. He attempted to do it in a slow and methodical way, but realized that it only felt worse, which made him decide to yank the knife fully out.

Rose stood up, went to his room, and packed a small bag of clothing, water and dried barley. He slowly made his way back to the front room, where he had left his parents corpses. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Rose had no love for him, and no known Jashinist had ever buried the bodies of his victims. Yet, by heritage, it'd be a disgrace to not bury their bodies and were given the respect they deserved. Rose fell to the ground of their home, which ultimately was no more than sand and mud bricks to form a wall, placed on top of regular desert ground. It took him hours, especially considering how wounded he was, but he had eventually dug a deep enough hole to but both bodies in.

After he was done, he swore to himself to be a different jashinist. To only kill when he had to, to treat all life as sacred, and to make sure that the remains of the dead were treated with dignity, and respect. Not left out to rot like his predecessors did. He would be nothing like Hidan.

Rose limped to the outside of their Dune, where he found his father's camel and his small travel sack. In it he found a black traveling turban, which was long enough to cover both the face and forehead as well as the hair. He also found a long traveler's cloak, which was originally white but grew a light brown from excessive use. As well as more water and dried bread, he noticed a small compartment on the inside of the bag wrapped around the camel. In it he saw a shiny, silver beaded necklace with the symbol of Jashin, and a note that read, roughly translated from Arabic, “Keishin, Sky Country”.

This was all Rose needed. He knew that this was a gift from the Devil Jashin. He understood that Jashin wants rose to seek this man out, but he was unsure of the Devils ultimate plan.

He got on his father's camel, and began traveling west, towards a small village near where he and his mother lived, or rather, used to live. He knew at least someone there could point Rose to the Sky Country, and hopefully, once there, whoever kaishi was could help guide Rose in some manner.




• Roleplay Sample:

(I threw this together as a basis for a Hoshigaki character a while ago but that idea got gutted. Hopefully it's good enough as a sample)

We all know the story of Moses. The story of a prophetic being who came from humble beginnings. The story of the young man who would one day show his greatness and oppose the most powerful ruler of the land, and the story of his poor mother who had to send him in a box, floating down a river in hopes that he would live. This is a story that our parents told us, and that we will continue to tell our children for years to come.

Kyonaru’s story may begin similarly, but I assure you, there is nothing great about him.

The Village hidden in the Mist had long been abolished. In this current time, it is nothing more but a  run down, near ghost-town. Nowadays, it is often used as a hideout and gathering spot for Missing-Nin, and an area where contraband trade offs often occur. There is little food available, as most merchants tend to avoid the area as best as they can. Here, The old, sick, and weak don't last. Survival of the fittest couldn't be more of a truth.

But Kyonarus family wasn't ‘fit’ for anything.

His mother lived in poverty, and was forced to become a night worker to provide for her family. She was an honest worker for all of her life, but eventually, honesty no longer became an option. Her father was ill, but she couldn't afford medicine. Her siblings were hungry, but she couldn't afford food. And after working at the brothel constantly, her unborn bastard child was something that she also couldn't afford.

Almost exactly like the story of Moses, Kyonaru was put into a box and sent down a river, with nothing but the hopes of his mother that he would live, survive, and make something of himself. Kyonaru, the son of a whore, the bastard, the orphan, was all on his own, at the mercy of fate.

We’ve all heard the stories. The most unlikely of characters suffers a tragic beginning, lives his life without purpose, yet, through perseverance, dedication and hard work, becomes the hero of legend. He finds the villain, or whatever, defeats them, and gets the girl of his dreams. We all have heard those stories, we all love them.




This isn't one of those stories.




“There's hidden meaning in everything”
Those words seem to resonate in my mind. It’s human nature to fear what you don't understand, and to question that which is feared. I learned that long ago, being stuck in this. . Voidness of a room. Here, absolutely nothing makes sense, yet, there is complete order to the chaos. For the past 17 years, each day for me has been exactly the same. I wake up in a soft, white mattress with IV tubes sticking out of my body, injecting foreign liquid into me. 'What is my purpose’ I would think. Contemplating my own existence, looking for something to cling on to.


But finding nothing.

Tall men in long, white clothing surrounding me, a stomach in discomfort, and a throbbing headache.

“There's hidden meaning in everything” a different one of them would say each day. After I wake up, they would give me some kind of black pill - or at least, that's what they called it - to swallow, and a cup of water to drink it down. The headache would immediately die down,after having finished the drink, and my hunger and thirst would disappear as well. When I’m around these men, I can’t help but feel a discomfort. I’m not sure if I should do as they say, yet, when they make a command, I immediately oblige. Almost as if they aren't speaking to me. My body just follows their every instructions before I can think.

Soon after this, they would again tell me to lie down, commanding me to sleep. As I fall into a state of rest, sometimes, I'm able to catch a few words and phrases that give me a bit of an idea of what their doing to me.

“Continue with the experiment”
“The subject shows signs of. .”
“Operation Hoshigaki”

Following that. . darkness. Nothing but emptiness fills my consciousness, until I, again awake, only to repeat the day before. That feeling of redundancy is the only feeling I know.I used to count the amount of days that have passed, but I've lost count of how many times I've lost count.

On the rare occasion, the men would give me some kind of task to perform, which I assume has something to deal with their progress. Often times, it’d be something simple; tell them a story, draw a picture, or to walk from one side of the room to the other. What’s universally strange about all of these, however, is that I never learned how to perform any of these tasks, yet they seemed to come to me as if they were practically given to me. I am not creative, nor have I ever heard any stories, yet I would always make something up about a strong, or wise man, with a dream of becoming hero. Nor am I one to quickly adapt, but when I am told to draw a picture, I always seem to quickly sketch down exactly what these men looked like; even their faces, which were constantly hidden behind masks.

Sometimes, however, the men give me a bit more complex of a task. Usually, after the task is complete, they tell me to again lie down, and by  ordered me to do. The men escorted me to a huge, deep body of water in the dark cave that we stayed in. I was told to go under the water, and stay down under until I needed to come up from air.

Something they did to me, I assume it having to deal with their Hoshigaki thing, ended up with me having slits on my neck, or gills as they referred to it. That one task, I remember feeling at ease, and not needing to come back for air.

Life for me was primarily composed of sleeping and performing whatever order these men wanted me to execute. Basic human nature would have any normal person immediately question these commands. But how could I? This was all I know.

Today, the men handed me a small parchment, which I was ordered to read. “ Read everything, then read everything in the red ” One of them stated.

There lies mysteries, hidden from those who cannot see. The meaning of those enigmas that occur in everything lies directly in front of you, yet you will never be able to observe it.”

By now, I was tired of hearing that quote. I was tired of living my life in a cave, and I was tired of knowing nothing. I want to know about my life. I want to understand my purpose of being here, and to know who. . or by now, what I am. I want to understand why these men. .play with my body and keep my mind simplified as if I’m trapped. . and I want to comprehend why i am treated in this cave like nothing I’m no more than a lab rat.

Someone says to me that I’ve done well, and that I have please d them in my actions. “save me the struggle of having to clear your memories.” I hear from a distance. “You can keep them, plus, it's clear you have a million questions in your head, but this is neither the time or place.”

But I don’t know what it means to question. I don't understand what it means to be curious in the least bit, it's a concept that has never crossed my mind. I know that I am human, or at least I am told I am, and I know that it isn't a normal ‘human’ thing to do, but I would do anything for these men, even though I have nothing but apathy for them. I try to understand why. . why I am so willing to obey the men that i feel nothing towards, yet, it still makes no sense to me.

I hear a rumbling outside of the cave walls. An explosion, perhaps, of some sort? The men look to each other in confusion, and all immediately rush outside of the doors. All but one of them.

As far as I am concerned, these men would throw my life away in a heartbeat if it were to serve their purpose. I’m nothing more than a tool, that these men test whatever they want on for their ‘progress’. My only purpose for living, is so these men can master whatever goal they are attempting to reach. To them, I am nothing more than an experiment that lives to please , to save their research. And to me, they are just. . The Men in White

The one who remained gave me one final order.

He told me to lie down, and that everything would be alright.

Great app, I enjoyed reading it, especially enjoyed the RP sample, anyway, I approve

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Re: Azir Rose

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    Current date/time is Fri Nov 24, 2017 5:26 am