Post by "TORA" (Shinji Amano) on Jun 19, 2009 2:42:37 GMT -5
"TORA"ShinjiAmano
[/size][/font]"I suffered every day.
I call out myself.
Towards the end that I wished for.
Now, let's run away.
Oh, together before the sin towards you"
I call out myself.
Towards the end that I wished for.
Now, let's run away.
Oh, together before the sin towards you"
BUT IF THEY PUBLISH THIS PICTURE
[/color]you have the choice to sue them[/size][/center]
YOU START WITH YOURSELF
[/size]and you work backwards[/font][/center]
NAME: "TORA" - Shinji Amano
NICKNAMES: Has no real nick names other than a self-given alias "Tora". It's Japanese for "tiger".
AGE: frozen at the maturity of 17, but has lived for hundreds of years - since the middle of the Sengoku Period in Japan. (Around 1524)
GENDER: Male
GRADE: Junior
POWER(S): Phases into a Tiger. (His powers come from being a tiger - even in his human phase he has retractable claws and crazy sharp teeth. Not to mention incredible strength and a lust for blood.) Has nine lives - is on his eighth life.
HOUSE:
DULCAMARA---physical powers (shapeshifting/the hulk sort of thing/invisibility etc)
I WAS A PERSONALITY BEFORE
[/size]i became a person[/font][/center]
FEARS:
- Cages/Small spaces.
- Sharp things like needles.
DREAMS:
- To be free of his own memories. To forget.
- To kill those who have hurt him.
SECRETS:
THREE BEST TRAITS:
THREE WORST TRAITS:
IT'S STUPID AND IT'S STRANGE
[/size]it's a directionless story[/font][/center]
PARENTS: Takeshi and Yumi Amano (both deceased)
SIBLINGS: NONE
OTHER IMPORTANT FAMILY: NONE
HISTORY:
Life Number One : (1524 - 1533), Old World Japan
Shinji Amano was born on September 17, 1524 of the Sengoku Period in Japan. His father was an azai retainer before him, so naturally, he became one as well. For the duration of his short human life, Shinji was a skilled fighter - and he was quick witted. Everything you would expect a great and noble warrior to be. In his seventeen and his final year of life as a human, Shinji was ambushed. Though he managed to kill his attacker, he surfaced from the battle within inches of his own death.
It was then that a great beast appeared; in the form of a great white tiger. She spoke to Shinji, telling him that the man who had been hunting her was the same one who had attacked him. She thanked him and offered him power and eight more lives in exchange for saving hers. Shinji accepted her offer with his last few breaths of life.
Life Number Two: (1533 - 1645)
When the man who was formly Shini Amano woke again, he was deep under the ground. Buried under layer upon heavy layer of dirt. With no idea how to escape, he panicked. What was he doing, trapped under the surface of the earth - in a place where corpses belonged? It wasn't until he phased in his frustration, that he managed to burst forth from his grave, claws drawn out and digging into the ground that had once been packed tightly around him.
During his second life, the boy who had now re-named himself Tora spent the majority of his time in his tiger form and discovering his powers. He thrived for years, learning to accept his lust for blood (though it took quite some time) and passing his time taking long "cat" naps in high branches of great trees. Like any child who is new to walking, Tora was awkward and, unfortunately, careless in his new form. This life was ended by a traveling hunter.
Life Number Three: (1645 - 1710)
This life was perhaps the greatest and most tragic one of Tora's seven long lived lives. When he awoke this time, he decided that he would try living as a human again. He searched for a place to live for years and would occasionally stay with generous families in tiny villages - that is, when he desired human company and trusted himself not to loose his temper, which seemed to get worse with every passing day.
Finally in 1670, Tora found a family that wanted to care for him. A sort of foster-family. A mother and father with two younger sons of their own. He traveled with the father, helping him with work and different errands, pulling his own weight as best as he could. For sixth long and pleasant months, Tora stayed with this family. He was happier than he'd been in decades. But good things never do last.
One dark and silent night, Tora was feeling particularly irritable. The youngest of his "foster" brothers was getting on his bad side and fast. All it took was one snide comment, one moment of lost control, and Tora had phased, lunging at the boy. Quickly he bolted to keep from gouging the boys scared little eyes out or crushing his skull inside of his own great jaw.
Days later, when Tora had finally managed to calm himself, he reappeared at the home of the people he'd come to love. He apologized to the child and the family, saying he would never allow it to happen again. The father seemed reluctant, but Tora begged and pleaded with him for a second chance. Eventually he agreed to let him stay.
Long after everyone in the village seemed to have been asleep, Tora crept out to satisfy his beastly and morbid needs. He was in search of prey - something quick and something tasty. He wanted a challenge. But by the time he reached the woods and he phased into his tiger form, he was ambushed. By a huge flock of humans. They surrounded him and, eventually, captured him.
Tora, in the form of a rather large and unconscious tiger, was sold to a group of scholars by his own "foster father" for quite a large sum of money. For decades they experimented on him - try to figure out what would force him to phase back and forth, or how exactly his claws could burst forth from his fingers when he was still in his human form. These experiments and "studies" were cruel. They treated Tora as those he were dirt. Kicking and beating him when he wasn't being tested on. The end of this life came during one particularly gruesome experiment.
Life Number Four: (1710 - 1920)
After his last life, Tora became very, very distrusting of humans. He bid his time, for the first ten years of this life, just being the beast that he looked like. Being the monster that the scholars in that tiny village had accused him of being. Killing and eating, breathing and drinking. He did all the was necessary to stay alive and pushed his human emotions aside. The only two he couldn't seem to rid himself off were fear and anger. Fear that he would be captured again and anger at the people who had forced him into cages and tiny spaces.
It wasn't until 1720 that he began to travel and search for a purpose to live. He was desperate to prove that he wasn't a beast. With stealth like his it was easy to sneak onto ships and to hide, and then once they were out to sea he could phase to his human form. And if anyone figured out that he wasn't supposed to be there? Well he could just kill them and eat them whole, swiftly cleaning all the evidence with his great tongue.
Before long he had reached England. And then after that, "the New World". America. Of course, he didn't go there seeking opportunities or excitement, no, he went for the vast land and different sorts of prey there was to eat. He spent years avoiding the Native Americans and settlers, existing in the deepest and darkest of areas. Daring only to go out to open planes like meadows when he was in need of a huge meal. Like... oh say... a buffalo?
For a long while life was perfect and long. Uninterrupted by the tainted and heavy smell of mortals. And then... People with guns appeared. They renovated and tore land up. They installed electricity and roads. Tora's perfect life in the wild was shattered quickly. It was cut short when he had a nasty accident with electrical wires.
Life Number FIve: (1919 - 1929)
Tora lived inside of Chicago city during this particularly short life. He lived in a bad part of town, learning to blackmail the people who lived in his shady community and manipulate them. After all, with a set of sharp claws and fangs, who wouldn't cower in fear before him? Before long, he had a gang-like system going. He had tons of money ( which is still hidden in the home he owns in Naperville presently, a town right outside of Chicago), homes (he has dozens of them scattered across the nation) followers and tons of followers. His short reign over Chicago was ended by a assassin sent to execute him.
Life Number Six: (1929 -1963)
Tora left the big city Chicago in search of something a little less... demanding. They he had enjoyed the power that running his own "gang" had given him, he now desired the peace and serenity the wild had given him in his tiger form so very long ago, during his second life. Sadly, all that was brought upon him was a war. World War II. He couldn't believe it. His own country, fighting against these worthless - and then he would stop and remind himself. He had no country. No loyalty to any country. He had only himself.
For the duration of World War II, Tora stayed in his tiger form, roaming the lands and studying the creatures around him. Humans, that is. He would watch them send their men off to battle, send their women off to work, and claim their national would rise out of this war as a victor. Either way, he'd been indifferent. As long as he lived as was never captured again, what did he care if America was taken over by the Germans or the Japanese?
Eventually Tora escaped back to the woods, unable to handle the cruelty of the humans who so eagerly fought against each other. Long ago he'd lost faith in the human race, and long ago he had forgotten how to forgive them. But not until the start of the Vietnam War did Tora truly begin to despise all human. What was the point in making peace if all you were going to do was start another war? This life was ended when Tora fell into the Ohio River and drowned.
Life Number Seven: (1963 - 1996)
With hundreds of years worth of memories haunting poor Tora relentlessly, he decided it was time to reflect and record. He retreated to one of his homes in Ohio and bid his time writing journals. Records of all of his lives. As best as he could remember them. Unfortunately, some off these memories were far too clear for his liking. One by one he made records of each life. Some would be quite lengthy - around five to ten books per life - and others would be short and simple - around one or two books.
Other than journaling, his days were lazing and typically uneventful. He steered clear of human contact as best as he could, keeping his mind on other things. The closest he would come to interacting with them would be watching the news or reading a book. But he dared not come too close to the real thing. After all, he knew only too well what they were capable of.
And suddenly, this life just ended.
Life Number Eight: (1996 - present)
When Tora awoke from his previous life, cuddled still in the safety of one of his manors, he was dumbfounded. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not remember how his last life had ended. Maybe he'd been bitten by something in his sleep? Or maybe he'd choked on his tongue? Had a heart attack? Nothing was making sense. How could he have died?
For years Tora searched for the answer, around his home, outside of his home, inside of his mind and his dreams. All that he found pointed towards the school. Like a magnet he was drawn to it - slowly sucked it but the attractive force it emitted. Immediately in 2009 he enrolled. Hoping to find the answers to all of his questions.
GIVE HIM A MASK AND
[/size]he will tell you the truth[/font][/center]
NAME: Tora. Just Tora.
EXPERIENCE: Oh jeez... Five years.
RP EXAMPLE:
A hunter in it's natural habitat... a vamp in the midst of a field of living, warm, fleshy and vulnerable humans. Miyavi's over-active imagination whirred as he reached for another case. He was a blood-thirsty and fanged monster, just waiting to find the right specimen so that he couch sink his teeth into their pulsating flesh. So that he could hold them against their will, as they wriggled and writhed and struggled with him - begging for release. He would only laugh and enjoy their pain, being as sadistic as blood-drinkers are, slowly draining them of their life. Enjoying the warm and wet of the blood against his parched throat... Miyavi held another case now, the hairs on his arm raised. He was oblivious to his surroundings when his mind was working this hard... making things up and inventing ways so that he could see them as interesting. At this moment, though his eyes were staring at the back of the case, he could see nothing other than himself - in vampire form - hovering over a victim that looked oddly like Kanon, slowly piercing into the skin of his neck to quench that insatiable thirst. His grip tightened on the case. How would he ever hope to satisfy it?
And suddenly, he was bumped against from behind - his tall yet slender form hardly effected by the jolt that caught him off guard. It was probably, he reasoned, because the man that ran into him - the vampire Miyavi's next victim - was perhaps no taller than five feet, if not less. A slow smile played on his lips (he couldn't help but imagine what fangs might look like, peaking shyly from the corners of his soft and playful lips) and he stared to speak to the shorter man. He was interrupted before he was even given the chance to apologize for being in the way. "Oi- what the fuck you looking at? You know you can not handle horror! Gimme that!" Soon the man had snatched the case from his hand, glancing at it before tossing it in the cart. Miyavi stared at him in shock. What... was he doing? Well... that wasn't very nice at all. He could have sworn, too, that he'd seen the man wrinkle his nose in disgust as he looked up at him. Maybe the great vampire Miyavi would have to find a kinder man's blood to suck.
But one thing did intrigue Miyavi as the man fished out a new DVD case and studied it. Who was this man? And why was he being so informal... almost.. no... completely rude to him? He was a mystery. He was an enigma. He was an adventure. He was interesting. And now, Miyavi was no longer a vampire, lusting for blood. No, he was a detective assigned to this man's case... sent by a rich family suspecting him of murder. It was the ace Inspector Myv who received the case that the man shoved into his hands. Though this line of thinking may have been strange to others, this was just how Miyavi's mind worked. He always had to be playing a game. Otherwise, he had no fun.
And so, being in the middle of this game, Miyavi took the liberty at looking down at the case that the man had offered him. Saw 4. Yuck. His nose wrinkled up in slight disgust and his stomach churned. What a movie to have been offered... Though... it would definitely have been the choice of a cold blooded killer. An innocent person, like himself, would be sickened by the idea of torture - Miyavi himself had thrown up after the first ten minutes of one of the Saw movies - while a killer would go around recommending it, just as this man had. Miyavi perked a brow, then glanced up at this man. His mind was tired, so he took a small break from his game to open communication with him. "Ano... Thank you... I think. But I'm not sure what you mean. Ehh... Not to be rude... But do I know you from somewhere?" He shifted a little and gripped the case loosely, beginning to feel a tug of discomfort at his innards. Yes... that's what happened when Miyavi faced reality without so much as a tiny bit of fantasy. He felt uneasy.
And suddenly, he was bumped against from behind - his tall yet slender form hardly effected by the jolt that caught him off guard. It was probably, he reasoned, because the man that ran into him - the vampire Miyavi's next victim - was perhaps no taller than five feet, if not less. A slow smile played on his lips (he couldn't help but imagine what fangs might look like, peaking shyly from the corners of his soft and playful lips) and he stared to speak to the shorter man. He was interrupted before he was even given the chance to apologize for being in the way. "Oi- what the fuck you looking at? You know you can not handle horror! Gimme that!" Soon the man had snatched the case from his hand, glancing at it before tossing it in the cart. Miyavi stared at him in shock. What... was he doing? Well... that wasn't very nice at all. He could have sworn, too, that he'd seen the man wrinkle his nose in disgust as he looked up at him. Maybe the great vampire Miyavi would have to find a kinder man's blood to suck.
But one thing did intrigue Miyavi as the man fished out a new DVD case and studied it. Who was this man? And why was he being so informal... almost.. no... completely rude to him? He was a mystery. He was an enigma. He was an adventure. He was interesting. And now, Miyavi was no longer a vampire, lusting for blood. No, he was a detective assigned to this man's case... sent by a rich family suspecting him of murder. It was the ace Inspector Myv who received the case that the man shoved into his hands. Though this line of thinking may have been strange to others, this was just how Miyavi's mind worked. He always had to be playing a game. Otherwise, he had no fun.
And so, being in the middle of this game, Miyavi took the liberty at looking down at the case that the man had offered him. Saw 4. Yuck. His nose wrinkled up in slight disgust and his stomach churned. What a movie to have been offered... Though... it would definitely have been the choice of a cold blooded killer. An innocent person, like himself, would be sickened by the idea of torture - Miyavi himself had thrown up after the first ten minutes of one of the Saw movies - while a killer would go around recommending it, just as this man had. Miyavi perked a brow, then glanced up at this man. His mind was tired, so he took a small break from his game to open communication with him. "Ano... Thank you... I think. But I'm not sure what you mean. Ehh... Not to be rude... But do I know you from somewhere?" He shifted a little and gripped the case loosely, beginning to feel a tug of discomfort at his innards. Yes... that's what happened when Miyavi faced reality without so much as a tiny bit of fantasy. He felt uneasy.
sephiroth x: best villian of all time.
