Blenden Sengarashi

Name: Blenden Sengarashi
Age: 24
True Age: 117
Sex: Male
Personality: Bland, Strict; maintaining exceptional devotion to interests, being objective or personal. He lacks empathy, unable to imitate the feeling. Though, he is not numb. Rather, he can feel what others do. Perhaps he feels a bit too much, forcing him to shut it all out. Whatever the case, the result is clear. Without emotion, the shroud of humanity is lifted. Truly, he seems like a machine, totally incomparable. The only resemblance is the uncanny sense of humor. Subconscious, or unconscious, it will always catch you off guard, seeming witty and planned, even though it was not. In a shell with nothing but memories, how can one not become abyssal? The man holds only two things dear, his sanity, and his insanity. Things that branch together to up-hold these things also bear the importance. For example, his adoptive brother, or his interests. Out of all of this there is one defining factor, something that perhaps no one else has. No matter how arrogant he may become, how over the top he may act, he still falls to the incomprehensible. He recognizes when he has been out-class, and does not take this as a negative. What he does not know, or cannot conquer will become his building blocks. To him the only negative is the inability to continue forward. Somewhere along the way he had made the connection, that if he could not be entertained any longer, then what was the point of living? In all of his years he has stayed true to this, defining his character in a very odd manner.

When first approached by a person, under the assumption of friendly, there is a likely chance that he will just ignore them. The exception is, of course, when they interest him; though his interests can go from anything from women to philosophy. Sometimes they just so happen to be the same thing. But that is part of his sense of humor I suppose. Those who he does not ignore, get to face a trail of questions, or statements that answer the questions he thinks of in his head. He is rarely direct about something. This most likely comes from his subconscious need to be entertained at all times. This nature excels when he is talking to women, attractive ones specifically. Rarely, he gets to flaunt his true womanizer nature, so when he does, he does it right.

Under the condition that he is approached by a hostile enemy, there is a numerous amount of things that he could do. Out of all of them, the most likely answer is still, ignore them. Of course there comes a time when one cannot just simply ‘ignore’ someone. In which case, it would only be a show to the opponent. Many things can be learned from someone, just by pretending to ignore them. For instance, he will immediately learn if they are impatient or not. Importantly, it would give him an insight towards how they will fight. Most people can be deciphered in an instant. This shows the level of understanding he has about the way people think and act. Maybe it’s experience, maybe it’s a talent.

Rarely will he ever fall prey to a witty comment or sly of the words. The way his speak flows off the tongue dictates a mastery of langue, spoken communication. If given the time, he could convince anyone to his side. Part of this comes from his realism. If there is no need to say it, he will not. If there is a need to speak, he will. Because of this he can fluctuant between being extraordinarily silent, to unable to shut his mouth. Luckily for him, he is rarely called out on it. In the event that he is, he would quickly correct himself. After all, he hates to find himself imperfect.



Likes: Entertainment of any kind, self-progress, winning.Fears: Being bored, an inability to learn, losing.

Character Appearance

Height: 6’3
Weight: 174
Physical Traits: Defined, very strong facial curves that show no empathy. It appears as if he has been frowning for his entire life, with abyssal cerulean eyes that meet at a set equilibrium with his nose. The ears are covered by a lock of hair, mimicking the eye color. His body is lean, though not without muscle, covered in velvet, satin skin. There is an almost perfect balance between the two. From a wide chest into a curving stomach, almost like a woman though obviously defined by the broadness of his shoulders, there is an articulation about him; with fingers made of bone, long and outstretched, so perfectly ornate on his following arms, medium in length. Most outstanding is the boney hole protruding directly over where his heart used to be. The size, shape, and position all dictate the exact dimensions of his heart, taking the extreme of all into a perfect circle. Overall his upper body seems to have a class about it, merging between the lean and muscular. His legs tell the same story. They appear as if they blend together, not particularly merging at any point even though the muscles definition and tone are uncanny.
Clothing: There is only one set of cloths that he will wear, most likely because he put so much work into them in the first place. A pure black tux, so carefully fitted with all the attachments. The entire outfit was specially made to his exact body type. As such it gives the appearance that it molds unto his skin. There is not a lose end upon the entire attire, and it flows as his body does. What’s more is the endless shade of black clashing excitingly with the satin-white undershirt, making it appear sharper than ever. Though unlike traditional tuxes, this one does not have a flowing tie. Instead it has a small, pitch black bow, very similar to a musician’s tux, or a butler’s tux.
Accessories: None.

Fighting Style

General Fighting Style: Generalized in close-range combat, and specialized in counter-combat. His entire fighting style revolved around minimal movement. Because of this the obvious response to most if not all is to turn his opponent against themselves. Efficiency is key, always thinking out step after step on the spot. With nothing but gross movements mixed with a combination of quick thinking and strategy, he manages to come up with creative responsive to just about every situation, and excels beyond his normal capacity when there are more enemies around him that specialize in close-quarters combat.
Strengths: Almost all his strengths come from his durable Hierro and the way he uses it. Effectively he can become a one man army, able to take maximum damage and return minimal. And, as stated before, his most powerful strength is his enemy’s. If they fight close range, his durable body can resist the majority of the damage, and dish it back out in a game where they wear each other down. Then, his Soindo, which allows him at the bare minimum, over average. Without this, mid-range battles would be utterly impossible. After all his fights, he has honed it to small bursts that can exceed his capacity, though unable to go for long distances.
Weaknesses: Anything pertaining to long range combat or battles involving reshi. These battles force him to do things that would normally be out of his comfort-zone. With nearly no ranged attacks and a poor pesquisa it becomes almost impossible to fight at long range. Not to mention, his aim after a few hundred yards isn’t exactly fine-tuned. As for battles of reshi, unless he is able to overwhelm them it isn’t exactly practical to fight back. In this case he would try his best to wear them down rather than fight a straight battle.

Zanpakuto & Cero

Sealed Appearance: It appears as an ornate kodachi, with a blade length of about 3’7 ft. The blade is sterling steel, 18 folds over. In light the blade emanates a light that resembled freshly fallen snow under the full moon. Not a single imperfection can be found, it’s purity far beyond that of a regular katana. The sheath is stained black, matching his suit color perfectly, and the fit to the blade is as neat and well refined.
Zanpakuto Name: Filo-Bianco
Zanpakuto Call Out: Chime, Filo-Bianco
Cero: None.

Resurreccion

Appearance: When the sword is activated invisible threads begin to wrap around his body. They glow from the white light created by the sword, illuminating his entire body. They make it appear as if his skin is lament, clothes and extremities included. From there his silhouette emits vermillion, mixing the threads with an array of light, and defining figures are forged unto his shoulders, parts of his chest and arms. The threads clumped into a visible shape, rather only visible by light that shines upon them. On his chest forms a crest-like circle. It takes up the majority, from the shoulder to shoulder, and on those shoulders form guards that extend a few inches downward to his biceps. The same games for his knees and elbows, decorating his body in ornate-style armor.

Abilities: Microfibers engulf his entire body and form a protective shield around him. Each fiber can vibrate at minute measurements to give a reflective property to most reshi and physical-oriented substance depending on the density. Higher levels of density result in less reflection, but more defenses. Lower densities result in higher reflection with no need for added defense. By focusing he can control the level of vibration in certain areas, enhancing their reflective or cutting property at the cost of defense in other areas.


Boosts: Drastically increased stamina, and a further hardened Hierro.

Resurreccion Segunda:

Appearance: [What do you look like in segunda?]
Abilities: [What abilities do you gain?]
Boosts: [What physical capabilities increase in your resurreccion? Speed, Strengt, Stamina, etc.]

Back Drop:

Background: [The story beings on a cold summer’s night. Breaths of wind blanketed the silken, sandy desert. Rocks cropped out, left and right, here and there. They dotted the baron wastes, alit in the ominous crescent moon. Columns of smoke filled the infinite horizon. Just a bit off from him there was a fire burning itself out. He could hear the flames, but nothing would register in his head. Just what was happening? The thoughts couldn’t quite come together in his head, only the deep feeling of despair loomed over him. Suddenly something shook him. It moved him just enough to remove that feeling of drunken disarray. Memories flowed into his head like a dripping faucet. Surely he would have gasped for air if could move, though there was no energy left in him. Rather, his eyes barely titled open. Moments passed as he stared blank into the abyssal darkness. Nothing could be made out. The lights from the fires dimmed out part of his view. Everything was sore, his legs, arms, chest, moving even an inch caused him stress beyond belief. For that matter, he just barely got himself off the ground. And, as he did something fell off behind him. It appeared that something or perhaps someone was laying upon him. “Fuck, what happened . . “ He retorted, partially aloud while cutting off into his thoughts. What happened next would shake his very foundation, chill him to the core. Without realizing it, his gaze had followed the path in the ground over to where he heard the noise. Before his eyes was a mass of blood and gore, next to him his dead fiancé. It was easy to see that she had protected him, half of her back was missing, her body burned to the bone.

This was not going to be his biggest shock of all. What had caused this accident was not natural. Something was amidst the wreckage. What was it?! What could it be?! Deep down he knew that something had caused this. To the best of his abilities he tried to shrug it off, blaming himself for the accident. Soon enough he would know this was not the case. Beyond his field of vision something began to move, sprawling through the sand. How chilled, the breaths of wind must have felt against his scorched skin. By now he was shaking uncontrollably, everything had come back to him. Tears flooded his cheeks, running endlessly in his silent fit. Everything was gone, there was nothing left. Just how true he was when the thought that is ironic. The only thing now he could do was suppress. There wasn’t even enough energy left to cry, his tears had run completely dry. Utterly alone he lay, battered and broken. He was so shaken that he did not even hear it come up on him.

Over him hovered the looming creature, a grotesque clump of mangled flesh. When he noticed he couldn’t quite make out the shape. Was it a dog? Fear came over him like no other. Pure terror struck into his bones, riveting through his flesh. The terror could only be masked by the immense pain he felt in his side. Consciousness was flowing out of his body. All he could hear was the sound of his own torso being eaten from the inside out. By now it was already over, he could feel no pain. He could feel, nothing, abyssal nothingness grasping his very soul and pulling it into the furthest reaches of hell. Senses slowly began to come into fruition, allowing him to see and feel what was around him. But, what was this? Surely he was dead, nothing could survive being eaten from the inside out. Though, he was without a doubt, perfectly fine. Not a single injury was left on his body. Too and fray his eyes wandered about in the shroud of darkness. Unfortunately, his suffering was not over yet. In fact, it had just begun. What he had failed to realize, was that he was no longer himself.

Looking down at his own hands, his eyes widened. They were transparent, and so was his body. For that matter, he was staring down at his body. He could barely stomach it, guts strung everywhere. What really shocked him was the expression on his face. Imagine looking down at your own dismembered corpse, and seeing a face filled with joy. After all that had just occurred, he was smiling. What kind of person am I?!?!? The thought echoed back into his subconscious as he fell to his knees, hovering over his own corps, his arms wrapping around his ghastly torso. And, as he did he felt something odd. On his chest there was a chain. Just what was this? Now more than ever he was curious. Aloof he held it in his hand, trying to comprehend what it was. Seconds turned into minutes. “I’m . . dead.” But if he was dead, where were his loving fiancé?

As he realized this he jumped from his position. First left, then right, he searched everywhere he could think of. “Where is she?!???!?!?” He yelled out into the darkness. “I ate her.” An answer came back through the shroud. “W. . Wa Wha- . . What?!??!?” Unable to hold the feeling back, he trashed around on the ground. “You’re next.” . . “But .. I’m already dead . .” A conversation ensued between the two. For the most part, it was one sided. Whoever, whatever it was did most of the talking. Benign to him, it was already over. “And, I’ve already eaten you . .” Suddenly his world shattered around him. Fabrics of reality tore his vision in twain. Massive pain took over his chest, forcing him to look down. The chain from before was being devoured. Struggling he tried to remove the lesions, but it was impossible. They continued to devour the chain, more and more until they were practically eating into his chest. Then suddenly a hole ripped open in place of his heart. Once again he could feel no pain, but the sense of something building up kept him rattling in his place. From within him spewed out an abstract cement. It came from the pours of his skin, his nose, his mouth, his ears, plastering unto his face. Physical manifestations began to occur across his body. Skin, once white turned a pale green. Bone ripped out from beneath the skin, giving way to spines that protruded from his joints. Truly he had become a monster, something beyond the belief of anything he could comprehend. Finally, that would go as well. He could feel it, his thoughts leaving his mind, rather, ripping from his very heard in agonizing pain.

(Then shit got real and he became a hollow then an arrancar because I’m way to fucking lazy to finish the history right now.)

Side Notes: (I’ll finish the history at a later time. Oh yea, and I’m lazy as hell. So I apologizing for half-assin this entire app. Though I did not C/P : D)

RP Sample:

The night was tranquil, as calm as the flowing seas. Tides exhaled gently unto the silk sands, breathing ever so careful. Truly a spectacle to see, watching the full moon come into sight's grasp. It ignited an array of emotion, burning up the alien world with stunning lunar lights. The crisp, salty waters performed a ballet in which the silhouette was the stage. All of this, for twinkling stars to perform, bathed in beautiful rays of amber and satin. Each actor flowed with such grace, that the ocean was caught benign, performing an opera in their symbolic harmony. However the curtain’s obligation is to close. On the wondrous stage, the silhouette’s fell prey, cut in twain. The reflection became distorted, a single, faint whisper. Rifts of black permeated the night sky. A hand was folding back the fabrics of reality, the curtain of the show. His velvet skin was illuminated so perfectly in the amber moon. What a spectacle to see! Solemn he stood, upon the thinnest air. Though just what was he doing? Each hand moved to their own accord, directing the very seas themselves. Who was this man? “Ahh, this world is so calming.” It had been a while since he had managed to come to the world of the living, since the days he ran wild as a hollow. Just why was he here, however. That was the real question. “I suppose this is the meeting place.” Without restraint, his eyes wondered about, taking in the extravagant view, and, just maybe, looking for his accomplice. “Oh there you are.” He whispered under his breath, allowing himself to free-fall. Winds guided the man, as he guided the winds, landing ever so smoothly.

For only a moment did he turn back to gaze upon the last act. “I’ll have to come back here again.” There was a momentary pause between his words, “Now to get down to business.” Each syllable was savored, running his fingers through that abyssal cerulean hair. Really, he did want to savor this moment even more. Hopefully he would in the future, considering his job. Now with a spring in his step he soared back into the air, leaping bounds in a single stride. From tree to tree his feet tapped across the jungle wood. “Now where is that target.” Just over the horizon it came into his view. While there were only a few of them, it would still be a bit of a challenge. You see, he had come to make a habit of hunting down arrancar that had left their homeland. For whatever reason, it kept him entertained. “One, two, three.” Under his breath he whispered, moving in the echoes of his own footsteps. Without a single drop of empathy he grasped the hilt of his blade. One was already done by the time the array of lights reflecting from the blade reached the other’s eyes.

Blood spewed in all directions as the head fell severed unto the group with a deafening thud. Though it was no his doing. The man that had been sitting next to him, was his accomplice. “Good work bro.” By now he was already engaged in combat with the others. “Two on one eh?” To him this was an advantage; he just hoped they were close combat fighters like the plan detailed. Enthralled his feet drew him ever closer to the prey. Left, right, their movements were predictable. Unfortunately for them, they would be unable to draw their swords. From behind him three spears protruded, launching forward. This left them with no option but to dodge, and dodge they would, right into his clutch. Upwards he swung his sword, taking a mass of air with it so that it would cleave anything in its path. Metal meets flesh, carving a gaping gash in the right one’s chest. “Get the other!” Even though, it went without saying, paralytic electricity had already engulfed him. Now, it was time to finish it. Above his head, his sword rose in the first stride, and in the second it fell like a guillotine, cleaving the man in half.