Dec 12, 2020 15:57:56 GMT -6
Karasu Moores Just when I think I can walk away general info
appearance Karasu stands around an average height, though he’s uncannily light and quick on his feet. He has moderate length, smoky black hair, often at least slightly messy. His eyes are intense, a bright and piercing yellow. Beneath his clothes he has an alarming amount of scars. Along his ribs, back, abdomen and scattered occasionally on his legs are the marks of cruelty. They are most concentrated at his back. Karasu tends to wear monochromes. personality
abilities Hexes: Mastered. Fire Manipulation: Mastered. Darkness Manipulation: Mastered. Possession: Advanced. Enhanced Endurance: Natural. Unarmed Combat: Mastered. Pain Tolerance: Insane. Ability to function under heavy sleep deprivation: High. backstory In the beginning, you were a nobody. Born and raised in shadows, the yellow eyed child was far from something desired. The pair hadn’t wanted to even stay together, let alone have a kid to raise, being that his existence alone was a liability. If they were to be found out, then their cover as mere partners in crime would be shattered into a thousand little pieces. Waiting for an opportune moment, the child was abandoned at the first presented opportunity, somewhere well-traveled and where he surely would be picked up by someone before he could have a chance to perish. They weren’t wrong. Denerith had ended up finding and scooping the abandoned child, though he was not anything close to a good samaritan. Anything that the man took into his life would be forced to earn it’s keep and prove to have a will to live, no excuses allowed or accepted. As a young child, Karasu was given the bare essentials to ensure continuance of life, with Denerith ever critically watching him. You had to fight tooth and nail for everything. The leniency ended when he was old enough to do things on his own. Denerith was a harsh man, instantly pushing Karasu into toughening up and learning the arts of fighting, to become someone that was efficient at whatever he needed to accomplish. Harsher and harsher lessons piled up, and obediently Karasu endured it all for the sake of receiving food and water. His pain receptors decreased as becoming battered and bruised became something more common than not. Constant training regimens and genuine fights fine-tuned Karasu’s ability to shut people down efficiently and quickly, and the natural grit to tank a hard hit and keep going. Weapons were considered a weakness, though it was heavily encouraged to use whatever the situation provided. As soon as Karasu displayed satisfactory skills, he was forced to undertake whatever dirty work he was handed. Many of these things involved doing the wrong thing, but it was better than what would happen if he crossed Denerith, or those that worked with him. Denerith is the only person you’ve ever feared. The first time Karasu rebelled against his father figure, was the first time he learned what it truly was to fear. Not only could Karasu not overpower the older male, but the repeated punishments were something that burned deep into the core essence of who he is. Berating the teenage demon for daring to think he can best him, Karasu’s dominant arm was seized, harshly bent until the bones cracked and shattered, before forcibly being tossed aside like a ragdoll. He was forced to continue to carry out Denerith’s tasks and will with this handicap. The training did not halt either, becoming harsher and more heated, the blade of Denerith’s dagger lacing the young demon’s body with scars. Now that his strength and natural accuracy had been trained, it became a game of swiftness and speed. The game was simple ... be able to dodge the weapons when it came to blows, or finish the job before he could get hurt further. Denerith made sure Karasu knew he would have no problems with leaving a failure out to die without any regret. Through the days that followed of error and disobedience facing harshly, there was also a deep conditioning being strengthened. It was all the attempted means to create someone who would not turn on him, no matter how badly they were treated. Even as one of our elite, you’re still disposable. Once Karasu was old enough, he was officially part of the group Denerith worked with. These people pulled many strings and were a force to be feared, and Karasu was to be both their enforcer and their executioner. Don’t ask questions, track down and being back whoever they requested. Kill who you’re told to. No exceptions. Most of all do not forget ... the killswitch. If Karasu was caught and unable to get free, or if there was no more use for him ... well. The contingency plan was to instill the automatic reaction to take the pills he was supplied, a quick-acting poison that if left untreated would unsure his swift erasure. It was to be kept with him at all times. Karasu continued carrying out what was expected, feeling a weight slowly crushing him the more time went on. Deplorable things for the sake of survival, no way to escape the invisible bars that closed him in. Until one day .... he decided to risk it all for a chance at freedom. At least you didn’t die. Karasu turned on Denerith. At the crux of the raid, that fragile point where outcomes were decided he turned back on those who only viewed him as a tamed hound. Karasu’s assault was vicious, violent, and left him and the grounds covered in so much blood you couldn’t recognize him. He severely cut down the ranks of that organization, though this was not without it’s losses. Covered in damages of his own, barely able to stand, Karasu was blindsighted by the person who had raised him. Barely able to fight back against the strangling grip on his throat and the dagger piercing through his ribs, it was a freak accident he didn’t die right then and there. Someone from the opposing side struck Denerith and Karasu was released. The outcome of that battle he did not witness, only that when he woke up, he was in a medical tent. Someone had taken pity on their once-enemy. Karasu stayed with those people for some time, allowing himself to both heal and pay them back in kind for saving him instead of leaving him to die. Once he considered himself healed he left, and never once has he gone back - even if he hasn’t forgotten them. Ever since then he has put his inherent abilities to use as a traveling mercenary, able to judge for himself where to step in, and what jobs he would take. misc *Karasu is not picky at all about food or drink choices. The exception to this is things that are basically just sugar sweets, as they hold no nutritional value. *Karasu is a Taurus. *Karasu feeds off different kinds of attention. Love, hate, pain, and money. *Karasu really only fears one person. It is Denerith. *Only Porphyrios knows Karasu’s true name. *Karasu is the type of person to know what’s going on behind the scenes, though, if there’s something he doesn’t know, he has ways to find out. *Karasu can technically fight when many would be too crippled to function. Parts of his intensive training involved having limbs bound or functionally useless, as well as forced to use his senses and instincts to defend himself blindfolded. He was trained for heavy adaptability and to prepare for almost anything. *Due to not even receiving basic human rights growing up (such as food or water), and having to fight for everything he had, Karasu is low maintenance. | roleplayer info ☆ NAME Kitsune ☆ RP EXPERIENCE Forever ☆ TIMEZONE CST ☆ GENDER Female ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS Many ☆ FACE CLAIM SERVAmp, Tsurugi Kamiya ---------------------- THIS CHARACTER BELONGS TO Kitsune. DO NOT STEAL. |
MADE BY ★MEULK