Nagase Shosuke [WIP]

» Name: Nagase Shosuke
» Alias: The Wolf of District 76, West Gate's Fang
» Age: 324
» Gender: Male

» Association: Gotei United

» Appearance Written: [What does your character look like? Write it up.]

» Appearance Image: [Put an image of your character here if you have one]


» Personality: [Please describe your character's personality. Please be sure to use at least 10 sentences.]

» Likes: [Optional, delete if not used.]

» Dislikes: [Optional, delete if not used.]


» History: [Everything has a history. Please try to describe their human life (if they had one), life as a Shinigami and what they are doing now.]


» Natural Abilities: [What kind of skills or abilities does your character have naturally? This can span from above average strength, to a large amount of skill in swordsmanship.]


» Racial Abilities: [You can put any customized racial skills/abilities/techniques in here. These can range from shunpo, kido, zanjutsu and anything else you want to add. Feel free to skip it if you don't want to fill it out.]


» Zanpakutō Name: Mayonaka no Taiyō [Lit. Midnight Sun]

» Zanpakutō Spirit:



Tsubasa - Two halves of the same whole--Yin and Yang--Niou and Niyoko. Tsubasa is the combined form of Shosuke's Zanpakutō. Most often appearing in this form, Tsubasa seems to be the most communicative and capable of Mayonaka no Taiyō's spiritual manifestations. However, with that comes more free will, and as such Tsubasa can be much harder for Shosuke to control.

Niou - The darker half of Tsubasa's personality that bares its fangs if and only if Tsubasa is in its split form. Niou is a crude, sarcastic, and rebellious black wolf with just as much bark as a bite. He is nearly impossible to work with and is, for the most part, asocial.

Niyoko - WIP

» Inner World:



WIP

» Sealed Zanpakutō Appearance:



WIP

» Sealed Zanpakutō Power: N/A


» Shikai Release Phrase: Howl, Mayonaka no Taiyō

» Shikai Release Action: [Does your shinigami do any physical action to release their shikai? Feel free to remove this if not.]

» Shikai Appearance:



WIP

» Shikai Abilities: [What abilities does your shinigami gain when releasing?]


» Bankai Name: [What is your zanpakutō's release phrase?]

» Bankai Release Action: [Does your shinigami do any physical action to release their bankai? Feel free to remove this if not.]

» Bankai Appearance: [What does your shinigami's bankai look like?]

» Bankai Abilities: [What abilities does your shinigami gain in bankai?]


» Equipment: [If your shinigami has any equipment? Put it here. If they don't, skip this section.]


(To Find Out about what these skills are for, please READ THIS THREAD before you try doing anything to it)

General Skills
» Durability: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Trained/Beginner/Untrained
» Speed: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
» Strength: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
» Martial Skill: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained

Will Skills
» Willpower: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
» Deduction: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
» Focus: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained

Shinigami Skills
» Hoho: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
» Kidō: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
» Zanjutsu: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained
» Hakuda: Elite/Advanced/Adept/Beginner/Untrained


» Roleplay Sample:

The Second War had been gruesome, and at this point, Rowena was more than used to the stench of blood and sweat. The screams of crying men no longer tore at her soul. If they weren’t dying here, they were dying elsewhere. It was by the grace of something divine that she had managed to survive the chaos for as long as she had. A part of her assumed the ghost of Arthur was protecting her, as he would have in life, and he too would in death.

A smile colored her face as she turned a coin over in her hand. The dimly lit room provided a solace she craved in a time when forced interactions came more often than silence. She preferred it this way. It wasn't complete silence, but it was enough considering how close she was to the front lines. One could hear others throwing back ale and singing cheers of victory–at least for the day. A victory in their time meant more and more each day as their losses piled higher.

This coin would seem to be of little importance to anyone else, but she clearly remembered the scratch at its surface. It was the last coin in her pocket before she had decided to change the way the world would see her, and ultimately the coin that led to Arthur–rest his soul.

The time spent trying to find his killer had hardened her, and the soft skin of her face was now taught and thinned and pale. Her shoulders, which used to be held back tightly with elegance and pride were now hunched and tired as if weighted down with heavy bricks, wet clothes, and bad days. A sigh would escape her for her lost lover, and she would place the coin back in its rightful place near her heart.

Her eyes lowered, giving attention to the papers at the table before her. She was getting close to finding his killer–she hoped. The conspiracies surrounding it all were not at all clear, but it was a puzzle that ached her heart. Sleep would come when it was solved.

She flattened out the papers, their dried edges crinkling in an attempt to ravel themselves back into a scrolled form. It was a map of her travels ahead. While it was based on her positioning for the Second War, she had her own agendas, and that just so happened to be why she was here in this bar on this night. A man by the name of Otto lived in the small village that supplied the inn with ale, and a small bird told her that he was a target for knowing more than he should about the conspiracies surrounding Arthur and his death. If she could find him before someone who wished him harm, then perhaps she could find some answers.

Rowena would take in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she rolled her papers back up again and packed them. She would leave a tip behind for the bar and make her way out into the cold night air. It struck her bone, sending a chill downward like a naked tree in the winter. A shiver crawled through the woman which she rubbed at her shoulders. The dark did not scare her, though something was quite wrong and she could feel it down the back of her neck, staring at her from the alleyways.

Amethyst eyes lifted upward, searching through the dark for movement–failing. She would turn around and continue, stepping up to a fountain that roared at the town’s center. She stared at the clear water below taking out the coin again and rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. “The answer isn’t far…” she would say through softened lips and a solemn expression.

Her eyes would soon furrow, however, as a figure would appear in the water–a reflection of the body approaching behind her. Rowena turned, only to be met with a pair of yellowed eyed and a dagger to her gut. The blade did not pain her, she was already too far gone, shocked. In fact, she embraced it as she knew it was her fate just from the sight. The hooded figure let go in an attempt to run, and she grabbed out for him, pulling at his wrist and forcing him to meet her gaze. The moonlight gave her the silhouette of his face: a large, wrinkled nose and odd ears. His skin was green, perhaps with a tint of yellow. His eyes were yellowed with jaundice and orange-cored. A wart sat at his lower jawline.

She wouldn’t forget the face if she happened to survive, though her odds–she knew–were slim to none. Rowena stumbled backward, her eyes taking note of the hilt of the blade within her. Though soon, the splash of water would sound and her vision would grow hazy. Red filled the clear waters, and she was gone.

---

Death would never do. Rowena’s goals were too defined and her passions too fierce. A voice called to her, familiar though ethereal as if someone otherworldly called to her from the beyond. The low grumble at its end was clearly defined.

Rowena felt weak. She could still feel the cold of her body hitting the water, though she was no longer wet. She raised her lids, amethyst eyes peering outward at the room she was in, but a blinding light met her. She would wince, blinking a few times before the light faded and she was met with the disfigured face of her late lover.

“...Arthur…it can’t…be.” His face was there and real enough, though scarred with his eye missing, the same way she knew he had died. Had he been hiding all this time in the shadows? Surely not. He would have never left her that way. Rowena could not find herself to answer the question. “Who? Did what?” She parroted, clearly dazed and confused. What on earth did he mean?

She lifted herself slowly from the table, finding that she was no longer in the robes she was once in. She tapped at her gut but oddly enough not even a wound took the place of the blade, but perhaps a scar underneath her robes. “This is a dream…it isn’t real…” Her eyes grew frantic and she pushed herself backward on the table, noting the bloodied corpses on the floor. They did not phase her. She’d seen too many corpses, but these were civilians, not the scum of their enemies. “I could not have survived that...” Rowena questioned the air, knowing the man before her would not have the answer.