Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2016 13:06:47 GMT -5
Name: Rakasei.
Age: Twenty-six.
Gender: Male.
Race: Saiyan 【Normal Path】
Homeworld: Natto.
Starting Planet: Earth.
Appearance:
Rakasei is quite typical looking when in reference to the usual Saiyan. His hair is naturally held up, from birth to current age. A raven black shade is worn as the naturally selected color of his hair as well, as per usual. Facial feature wise, he is lacking of facial hair. His eyebrows are neatly kept, and two slashes are made by the end of his right brow. His jawline is exceptionally defined, displaying his proof of growth. His ears are moderately sized, too. Rakasei bares a single, long scar across his right eye. Obtained by means of battle.
Outfit wise, his appearance is something of an updated armor set worn by very Saiyans in the current day and age. His chest is protected by a thick jumpsuit half. Armor placed onto his torso, brown shoulder pads atop his shoulders as well as the standard brown abdominal piece. His legs are covered by baggy trousers and navy blue boots with golden tips and heels to match. Rather than wearing large, white gloves, he dons a set of grey-blue gloves that are snug. He also wears a metallic black mask, that attaches to his face and covers his nose and mouth.
Backstory:
A Warrior Scarred By Battle, Yet Addicted To It So.
6/6/59
Rakasei, son of Jicama and Gourd, is born and set into an incubator for growth.
7/9/62
Rakasei is now three, and sent to a target planet. The process is done quickly and cleanly. The sent Saiyan successfully liberates the planet of it's inhabitants and lives on said planet until the age of five.
4/5/64
Currently five years old, Rakasei enrolls into the Junior Soy School. Learning a very basic version of the Natto style of battle and knowledge. Rakasei surpassed expectations whilst under the wing of his instructors during this time period.
5/31/69
Now ten years old, Rakasei has become more accustomed and used to being sent on small and big missions, alike. Interestingly to note, this date is exactly one year and about one month before a large shift in Rakasei's lifestyle.
6/31/70
Rakasei is now eleven years old and sent onto a new mission. Packed and readied, the Saiyan is thrusted off of Natto and into the void of space. His assigned planet an unknown one, but codenamed 'THZ'. Strange, but taken as it was described as an advanced task. Such a title intrigued him vastly. Travel time amassed to about four years.
9/31/74
Rakasei (15) landed and hit the ground in a heavy crash. His pod nearly destroyed due to the heavy gravity of the codenamed planet, the Natto native exits and begins exploring. Noting several features and key details. Things like the grass, water and sky. The planet seemed almost normal and usual compared to most other alien areas, as the water was blue and the sky reflected it similarly. However, the ground was torn and destructed. A planet of war seemed to be what he stumbled upon. The inhabitants were yet to be seen.
10/6/75
(A16) A year of exploration is used up, until the teen Rakasei discovers a colony of Herans. A great number of space pirates presented, but the better of his pride enacted battle. A swift defeat is laid onto the Saiyan, whom is then held prisoner on said planet and used as an example for those foolish enough to try and fight an entire clan of literal warriors on their own. Rakasei is stripped of his traditional Saiyan armor and marked a prisoner with a number one engraved into his back.
6/6/80
Rakasei is held prisoner for an estimated five years, then aged twenty-one, and beaten excessively. Thanks to the experience, Rakasei is brutally injured and beaten, thusly making his body far more durable and uses to blunt trauma. The reason behind the strengthening being, the Herans keeping him had bashed and broken his bones a number of times using blunt tools, as well as breaking and opening his skin through the use of a whips and other tools of war. Being a Saiyan, the captors had also taken advantage of his tail. Yanking and smashing it with hammers as well as simply dragging a weak Rakasei around by the tail. This had, in a sense, trained his tail.
7/7/81
A year and month later, a still prisoner Rakasei is rescued by fellow Saiyan warriors of Natto descent. The sent warriors quickly began pillaging and tearing the planet asunder. One warrior, Lugi, sent and successfully freeing the scarred Rakasei. He had lost his pride, but swiftly recuperated. During his time as a prisoner, he had been stripped of his dignity and used for shows and entertainment. The raw strength and outnumbering of him had left him little choice. Perhaps the only benefit of imprisonment was the brutal sessions he had shared with the few Heran women on planet. Moving on, the lost pride had inflicted something quite deep rooted. A form of post traumatic stress had been engraved to his psyche. The very sight of a Heran could have set him off. The rescue is a success, none the less and Rakasei returns to Natto. More or less unscathed, physically.
?/?/86
Current day and age.
Techniques
【Balanced Tree】
- [ST-1] Tail Mastery
No pain can be derived from tail grabbing.
[li][ST-2] Great Ape Mastery [/li]
---.
User is in full control of his transformation and not a wild beast.
[li][ST-1] Flight [/li]
[li][OT-1] Riot Javelin[/li]
A crimson red spear of Ki is conjured and tossed toward the foe. Made to pierce armor and defeat those who stand against him.
[25% of PL.]
[li][OT-2] Riot Javelin[/li]
A crimson spear of Ki is manifested, white streaks of lightning can be seen this time. User tosses it toward the foe with deadly intent.
[50% of PL.]
[li][OT-1] Wrath of the Saiyan[/li]
User grips his fist tight before shooting a look to the target. The user quickly lunges into the foe with intent to penetrate their abdomen with the force of a hundred Saiyans.
[25% of PL.]
[/ul]
Unique Tiers
N/A
Inventory:
0 Zeni
Old Spacepod
Green Scouter
Roleplay Example:
"Agh..ah..damn.."
The weak moans of agony had escaped the battered Saiyajin warrior. His eyes locked into a vacant squint, lips chapped and his skin bruised and beaten. Signs of abuse quite visible. His hair a mess, a large bruise just above his left eye. The lack of clothing enabling people to see the many gashes and wounds that had been laid unto his person. His captors hadn't even the decency to leave him with his undergarments, nay, they instead chose to treat him like a lowly mutt. An animal made for entertainment values and purposes. In the eyes of the savage Herans he was sent to destroy, he was but an object. Their view was quite literally emulated by the beaten prisoner. Everything hurt. Each movement was painful. Not just a little small pain, but a shooter. One that went through each and every single muscle, and plucked on his nerves to elicit a loud cry of agony or a sharp breath of air. Hell, he was alone and yet everything hurt. Just wriggling his fingers hurt and stung. Moving his toes hurt like a mother. The worst part was, even coughing hurt like a bitch.
The male had been bound by his wrists this day. As he usually was, he was hung by a wall inside of a jailhouse. Little known fact: The jailhouse was literally for him and him alone. One cell, one man. And as previously told, his wrists were tied together. His nude body hanging limply against a cold cement wall. He simply was tired of resisting. He had no energy to do it. His hands were free but closely pressed together, fingers wriggling and flexing. His legs had crossed over one another, just barely covering his proof of gender. If he wasn't chained, one could compare his pose to a work of art. The prisoner of battle's head turned off to the side, eyes just barely shut. The only hint of it being his exposed right eye, the large and bulbous bruise on the left side of his face hiding his eye..
Today was just like any other day. Quiet, void of people or his captors. Small animals, namely rats or birds, would pass by. His cell was exposed to the outside world. Not quite a house, but a block with two windows. Tweets and whistling was the only thing he could call music or nice these days. The spiky haired male could only entertain himself with his thoughts. Yeah, something most Saiyans didn't even think of taking advantage of or consider using. Funny how some situations made people realize what they truly had to their disposal. Something that the Natto native would have liked to laugh at, but, he'd suffer a sharp shot of pain as a exchange. The male's brow had been cocked. Lips in a frown.
"Fuck..I hate this..the only good thing about being here is that snu-snu bull that I supposedly should have died from..hmph. Idiots thought my Saiyan Pride could be destroyed by their overly muscular women. As if." The male thought silently. "Ugh..five years of this. I'm just glad I'm not an idiot and stopped trying. These creatures just multiply, I wouldn't be surprised if I managed to slip in some honor through those blue females, hah..!" A mistake had been made. He had chuckled once. Just a single laugh. That had to be punished, and his body had grown accustomed to dishing out harm against itself when it felt he did something wrong. A trait that had been adopted after the third year of being on the Heran settlement. Being beaten for laughing had made his brain issue a shock to his chest, mirroring how the male Herans would beat his chest whenever he spat or laughed at their face. Damn these brutes.
"Ach..!!"
He grunted. Another audible sound. No good. That alerted the guards outside of his cell that he wasn't quite dead yet. Lucky for him, they weren't men. Or, was he? The Heran women here were just like the women on Vegeta, only much more muscular and worse in attitude! Two women had joined his cell, large in height and built with muscle. Their aqua marine skin darkened in the cell, ginger hair kept short in a bob cut. He refused to issue a greeting. He'd done it in his first year of capture, and gotten brutally beaten for being funny. Instead, he had only shit a look to the women. Noticing their dark, coy smiles. Nothing in their hands, this time. They carried sharp hand weapons the last time. He had gotten smart. No more talking back unless he had forgotten where he was.
"Number one.~" The taller female, Gokua, had stated. Her voice laced with a salacious tone. Her hands had been behind her back at this moment. Holding something. He feared what it could have been. He needed to obtain his bearing and become a man again. The fact that he feared what a mere Heran was hiding, only furthered the fact that he was missing his pride. As she closed in, she had revealed something to him. Something he was far too accustomed to seeing on the near daily to even be surprised or mesmerized by anymore. And that, was Gokua's rather exposed cleavage. Her left hand aggressively pressed against his head, shoving it against the solid wall. Her right hand revealing a small blade. The sharp tip pressed carefully to his right eye. Sliding down his brow and teasingly grazing his eyeball before resuming the cut onto his cheek. A new scar adorning his face. A mark of survival, as he would call it. His teeth had been bore, retaining any sounds of pain. Keeping himself from wincing out of consideration that any sudden movements or jerking could potentially blind him.
She retrieved the blade from his tanned skin. Stepping back and watching as the crimson essence of life had dripped down off of him. Dribbling down his jaw and small drops falling onto the ground. They seemed to derive some kind of sick pleasure from seeing the prisoner hurt and bleed. But, a miracle had donned upon the settlement that day. Off the horizon, he heard it. A bang and a crash. The two women heard it, the same. Quickly twisting around and looking to the forest surrounding his cell. And like that, the green had been burnt. Flames had taken the place of trees and grass. And from the fire, two Saiyans emerged. As if he was blessed, Rakasei had ignored the burning pain in his chest and laughed. He was saved! A tall Saiyan, Borgos, had closed in. Decapitating the women with but two swift kicks to the skull. His body dressed in a black jumpsuit, a green and black set of armor worn. His haircut shaggy and spiked, several bangs along his forehead. The smaller Saiyan, who was but five-three, named Punpki, had unchained the male. Borgos handing Rakasei a blanket, the latter tying it around his waist. His arm also thrown along Borgos' neck. The two men heading to a pod, Rakasei tossed into an escape pod and sent into the atmosphere. The others close behind after obliterating the life on the planet. Almost instantly, it seemed as though Rakasei had his pride. Back to his normal self. He hoped he was his old self.
Reward Requested: PL.