Post by Deleted on Mar 13, 2016 13:10:26 GMT -5
Yasuro
Name: Yasuro Yoshumane
Age: 61
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Homeworld: Earth
Starting Planet: Earth
Appearance:
Yasuro appears younger than he is, and his muscles are toned far beyond that of most humans his age. His face is stern and his eyes show the wisdom and experience that comes with age. He often wears a stoic expression but at times he has a warm and welcoming smile. smile and carries himself with a calm demeanor that gets mistaken for weakness. His hair is long and grey, and his bread is short and matches his hair in color.
While training or in combat, Yasuro wears his father's tattered kimono. When in his business attire Yasuro wears black dress pants and shoes, a white long sleeve collard button up shirt, black or red tie, and a black jacket, with his hair pulled back in a ponytail. At other times he can often be seen in bright colored button up shirts; often buttoned only halfway, tight black dress pants, black loafers and wearing a number of accessories suck as rings and braclets. He will often carry his family sword, Motatsake, in a special case strapped to his back.
Backstory:
Yasuro was born into a long line of warriors who kept themselves secluded on the eastern islands. By tradition, Motatsake, the family sword, was passed down to the first born son. However, Yasuro's father had broken this tradition by refusing to pass the sword to him, seeing Yasuro as incapable of continuing the family traditions. For years Yasuro and his father barely spoke despite living under the same roof. Yasuro grew to hate his father, not just for his refusal to pass on the sword to him, but because he blamed his mother for being unable to give him a second son, or even another child. As soon as Yasuro could, he left his family's home for the city.
When he got to the city, Yasuro worked hard to make a better life for himself. He work many jobs just to put himself through school. He taught himself everything he should have learned from his father, as well as how to defend himself. Eventually Yasuro had graduated top of his class, with a masters in accounting. He was able to get any job he wanted. He worked for many different companies, including Capsule Corp itself, over many years and built himself a large savings. As all this was going on, he never forgot to write his mother every week. For twenty seven years his mother wrote back at least once a month. Then the letters came less frequently, and eventually they stopped altogether.
After almost a year of not hearing from his mother, Yasuro began to worry and blame his father. One day, as he was leaving for work, Yasuro was greeted at his own doorstep by an elderly farmer. The farmer, an old friend of the family, had brought terrible news of Yasuro's parents. The farmer told him that his parents had been sick for sometime, but that his father had refused to call on Yasuro for help. Then came the news of his mother's fate; she had succumbed to the illness and had died a few days before. Yasuro was heart broken and once again blamed his father. Seeing no other choice, he left his new life behind and returned to take care of his father.
For the next fifteen years Yasuro spent his life savings taking care of his father. As it turned out, illness was not the only problem his parents had faced in his absence. The government had decided that it did not recognize the Yoshumane family's claim on the land and had ordered them to leave. Whatever Yasuro didn't spend on medical bills for his father, he spent fighting a losing legal battle with a near thousand year old document his only evidence of ownership. He grew to resent his father even more over this, but took care of him all the same.
One his death bed, and after years of resentment, Yasuro's father finally apologized to him, for everything. Using the last bit of strength he had, he climbed to his feet, demanding that Motatsake be brought to him. He then did something he said he should have done fifty years ago; he passed Motatsake to Yasuro. After this was done, he laid back down, closed his eyes and passed into the afterlife, peacefully. Still, Yasuro could not bring himself to forgive his father.
Techniques
Defensive
Offense Tiers
- [OT-1] Iaido
[25% of PL in damage]
[li][VT-1] Iaido, Deep Cut[/li]
Yasuro quickly draws his sword, focusing his ki into the blade, and strikes with an upward slash, this time living a deep wound that causes damage over time.
[25% of PL in damge, Piercing]
[li]Technique Here[/li]
Description Here
[Damage/Effects go here]
[li]Technique Here[/li]
Description Here
[Damage/Effects go here]
[/ul]
Support Tiers
- [ST-1] Ki Sense
[li][ST-1] Defensive Stance[/li]
Yasuro takes a defensive stance that boosts his speed at the cost of offense.
[-x3/+x2]
[li][ST-1] Rapid Movements[/li]
With a great burst of speed, Yasuro dodges his opponents attacks.
[Dodges 100% of PL]
[li][ST-1] Defensive Iaido [/li]
Yasuro quickly draws his sword, focusing his ki into the blade, but instead of striking, Yasuro holds Motatsake in front of himself, creating a barrier to protect him and one other person.
[Blocks 40% of PL in damage for up to 2 people]
[li]Technique Here [/li]
Description Here
[Damage/Effects go here]
[li]Technique Here [/li]
Description Here
[Damage/Effects go here]
[/ul]
Unique Tiers
N/A
Inventory:
500 Zeni
Old Spacepod
Ancestral Sword
Roleplay Example:
The sun had just begun to rise, but Satan City had already awakened some time before. The streets began to fill with busy people rushing to their busy lives. It's exactly how I remember it, Yasuro thought as he walked down the street. He took in a deep breath, savoring the smells of exhaust as cars went by and the scent of coffee as he walked past a cafe, among many other smells. A smile came across his face as he remembered how much he missed the city. All ready such a good start to what's going to be a great day. By the time today is over, I'll have at least five different people wanting me to come work for them. Yasuro was in a good mood; he had several job interviews lined up, and he just knew he would ace all of them.
Yashuro was dressed in his best suit; black jacket, dress shoes and dress pants, white dress shirt and red tie. His hair was combed back into a ponytail, and his beard was well trimmed. Yasuro took pride in his appearance and had spent the better part of an hour getting everything just right. He was 'dressed for success' as they say, but that wasn't the only way he prepared. He spent a few days in his motel room just doing research on the positions he was interviewing for. The first, which he was on his way to at the moment, was for the head accountant at an up and coming company that dealt mainly in shipping. Yasuro had learned everything he need to know about them and was confident that they would be wowed by his years of experiance.
After rounding one lastb street corner, Yasuro continued barely half a block before he arrived at his destination. He stopped in front of two large glass doors, glancing in at the dark reception room. Yasuro had arrived a couple of hours early, just like he planned, and the business had yet to open. I have over twenty years experience in accounting, he thought as he started to go over talking points of his resume. He continued studying over his resume and all his notes until a young blonde woman, dressed head to toe in pink, interrupted his thought process. Apparently he had begun to lean on the doors without realizing, and she was here to unlock them. He apologized, explaining he was waiting for a job interview, and she just waved it off with a smile and invited him in.
-43years earlier-
An eighteen year old Yasuro stormed toward the door of his family home, a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing blue jeans, a pair of boots and a plaid button up shirt; all bought from a nearby village, as the only cloths Yasuro owned at the time were traditional robes. His father, dressed in a grey robe, swiftly stepped in his way. "What do you think you are doing, Yasuro? Are you abandoning your family? What about your mother?" he said, pointing toward Yasuro's crying mother, dressed in fine white robes adorned with designs of pink flowers. Yasuro glanced at his mother, his heart sinking as he heard her cry, but then turned back to his father and said,"No, I'm not abandoning her. I would never do that. But I am trying to get far away from the father that abandoned me."
Yasuro's father pushed past him and over to his crying wife, grabbing her by the arm and pointing now at his son. "Tell him. Tell him he is making a mistake. Tell him he must stay. He's your son, he'll listen to you," he told her. She lifted her head and looked at Yasuro, then her husband and back at Yasuro. She collected herself as best she could. "Yasuro, I do not wish to see you leave, but if you feel this will make you happy, than go. Go, Yasuro, and don't look back," she said, struggling to hold back her tears.
"Enough!" Yasuro's father yelled, enrage by his wife's words. He threw her down and lifted his hand as if to strike her. Yasuro reached out to grabbed his father's hand and the next thing he knew, he had hit the ground hard, landing on his back, duffle bag flying off his shoulder. Before he could get up, his father's foot was resting on his throat. "Go," his father yelled, "Go! Leave here, and never return. You are no longer my son." With little effort, he lifted yasuro off the ground and onto his feet. He pushed him to the door, and then picked up the duffle bag and threw it into his arms. "Go," Yasuro's father yelled one last time before turning his back and storming off into the other room. Yasuro looked at his mother one last time, open the door, stormed out and slammed it behind him.
-Present Day-
The couch in the reception area was rather comfortable, and Yasuro had been sitting here for almost a half hour already. The blonde woman that had let him in sat across from him, behind a desk that was placed to the right of a sturdy looking wooden door. This door led into the manager's office, where Yasuro would be doing his interview. The manager, a thirty-something year old man with a balding head and thick framed glasses, had already passed by, barely acknowledging Yasuro was there as he was updated on his days appointments from his secretary. Still, Yasuro was optimistic as he continued study his notes.
Yasuro would occasionally glance up at the young woman, who would return the glance with a smile. He smiled back every time. What a pleasant young woman, he thought to himself. Every once in a while, Yasuro would ask the secretary a question, such as what kind of man the manager was, and how many others had/are interviewing for the job. Her answers were all very encouraging and reassuring. Finally, with just five minutes left before the interview's scheduled time, the secretary's phone rang. "Yes?. Yes sir. I'll send him right in. You're welcome sir," she said to the manager who was on the other end of the line. She looked at Yasuro and said, "He's ready for you now." As Yasuro got up and headed past her to the door she wished him good luck. "Thank you," he replied just before opening the door and entering the room.
-18 years Earlier-
At 7:00am exactly, Yasuro's alarm went off. He slapped the button hard turning it off and then yawned as he stretched. He crawled out of bed, rose to his feet and made his way to his shower to begin his morning routine. Yasuro was the head accountant at a large accounting firm, and didn't have to worry about rushing into work. He lived on the outskirts of Satan City, in a beautiful, and expensive, home. Everything about his house was modern an slick. He was a 43 year old bachelor, living what he considered to be 'the life'. Still, he often thought of his mother back home, and wondered why her letters had suddenly stop.
After his shower, Yasuro sat at his dinner table in his red bath robes enjoying a cup of coffee while reading the morning paper. There wasn't much interesting in the paper that day; just news about some recent robberies and a string of muggings. Looking in the papers, he could see that Capsule Corp's stock had once again risen. What else is new, he thought. When he finished his coffee, he got up and put the paper away. He returned to his room and went into his closet full of designer suits. As he got dressed, he looked at his surroundings, as he often did, and felt proud. He had worked hard to get everything he had. There was nothing he owned that was just given to him.
Finally ready to go the suave accountant made his way to his front door. When Yasuro opened his door, he was surprised by the old man standing on the other side looking like he was just about to knock. The man was dressed like a farmer and gave off a smell of dirt that almost overpowered Yasuro's cologne. "Who are you?" Yasuro had asked the man. The old farmer put his hand down and looked the younger man in the eyes, as if examining him, and replied, "Are you Yasuro Yoshumane?" The old man squinted and leaned in to get a closer look. "Yeah, you're him. You're the spitting image of you father," he said before Yasuro could respond.
Slightly angered, and also a bit confused by this stranger bringing up his father, Yasuro replied, "Yes, I am Yasuro Yoshumane. Why do you ask? Are you a friend of my father? Here, come in and we'll talk." Yasuro motioned for the man to enter, but the man turned him down with a wave of his hand. "No thank you,' he said, "What I have to tell you can be done out here." Curious, Yasuro shrugged and told the man to go ahead. The old farmer continued, "Your parents, they have fallen ill. They've been sick for 'bout a year now. Your mother got the worst of it. Last night, her fever got higher than it ever has. I'm sorry to say that she died just before dawn. I found this address on this letter that she had never sent to you. I'm sorry for your loss."
The farmer handed Yasuro the letter and stood patiently waiting for him to respond, but all the younger man could do was stand there in disbelief. The old man cleared his throat before saying, "I don't know what bad blood you and your father have between you, but he needs you now." Yasuro thanked the man and saw him off before pouring himself another cup of coffee returning to his dinner table. He sat there in silent consideration.
[WC: 1672]
Reward Requested: Zeni
