Post by Momochi Zabuza on Oct 9, 2010 2:11:08 GMT -6
P E R S O N A L
Name: Momochi Zabuza
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Doesn’t really care- a body is a body
Blood Type: A
Birthday: Aug. 15
DNA: Evolved
F A M I L Y
Father: [Deceased]
Mother: [Deceased]
Siblings: None
T A C T I C A L
Occupation: Wanderer, assassin-for-hire, scavenger when it suits him
Team (if applies): His own / Seven Swordsmen
City/Dome: Former Kiri dome; wastelands
Evolution (if applies): some mild control over H2O molecules- forms and clumps them together for attacks. Not especially outrageous, though he does make creative use of this when needed.
A P P E A R A N C E
Height: 6”
Weight: 158 lbs
Hair: Black, short and spiky
Eyes: Dark brown and somewhat beady- above them are a conspicuous lack of eyebrows (Zabuza has a chemical accident in his childhood to thank for that)
Body Type: Tall and muscular. Zabuza is extremely strong, musculature hard-cut from years of a difficult, active life. His strength matches well with his height, and he towers easily over most people he knows; he loves being so big, since it serves as a wonderful intimidation tactic. He will gladly bulk and puff himself up to exacerbate this. Nobody wants to mess with someone bigger than them.
Clothing: He prefers a more-or-less simplistic look. To begin, his feet are protected by thick leather boots, buckled and zipped closed, and all but falling apart these days- it’s not easy to get new pairs outside polite society shops (he claims he likes this pair, and doesn’t want to bother with breaking in new ones- in reality, he’s just stubborn). The boots are covered with leg-warmer-like fabric, which leads up to a pair of protective but loose leather trousers. On his upper half, he wears a black “wife beater”-style shirt, and gauntlets and grieves over his forearms.
On occasion, he will also throw on a short, baggy “Greaser”-style leather coat, but only when he finds that it is too cold or too rough (worse than usual air quality, etc) to go without it.
He has a holster for his weaponry- a giant sword- that goes over his back, resembling the illegitimate child of a gun holster and a backpack.
Most outstanding in his appearance is his respirator- it covers the lower half of his face, and is made up of several layers of filtering material and cloth, wrapped around his face and neck. He rarely removes it, as he resides in the dangerous wastelands. But even on the rare occasion of his entry into a dome, he prefers to keep it on. Not only can one not be too careful, it also helps him avoid anyone recognizing. Zabuza is not known for making friends, after all.
Explanation and/or picture: Image Pending
W E A P O N S
Guns: None
Melee: One giant, tough-as-nails, Head-Cleaving sword
Other Equipment: A collection of knife projectiles, kunai, as a preliminary precaution, but nothing he relies upon.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Zabuza Momochi is not an easy man to be around. If he isn’t attempting to kill you (which he very often is, as there are few people he will tolerate and even fewer he actually likes) than something must be in it for him. He either has some way he has found to use you, or else he has agreed to be used by you in exchange for some worthy compensation. If these requirements have not been met, yet you are still around him, than you had better be on your best behavior, for fear of a heavy blade to the head and a swift end.
After all, he belongs to no dome- he doesn’t have to abide by any of those foolish little “laws”.
It isn’t that he’s heartless or cruel. It’s that he is very anti-social and has a short fuse. He has been known to lash out when angered or feeling as though he needs to prove something- and spectacularly so. Finds pity and empathy pathetic in most situations, though with Haku he finds it… sweet. not that he would publicly use the word.
He is a man of few words, and those words are spoken in a gruff, harsh growl or else a sharp bark. It’s not that he’s particularly stoic, per se, but he doesn’t really like to waste time with chit-chat he considers to be pointless and dull. He isn’t much for vulgar jokes (though he isn’t above coarse language), or humor in general; he is most smiley when in the thick of battle (one of the few things he considers to be “fun”) or around a certain ward of his.
Around the only person he consistently puts up with- even likes- he is actually acceptably pleasant, in his own odd way. He will actually smile behind his respiration cloths, and he might actually hold a conversation.
But this is only in private, of course. The remainder of the time he is simply a grim reaper of a figure: imposing, harsh, and deadly.
H I S T O R Y
Born to normal people of no consequence in the dome of Kiri, Zabuza might have been a normal child, with an average upbringing. Unfortunately, he seemed to have been born with a bloodlust, and as such, felt the need to prove himself as a dangerous person, even at a young age.
When he was only nine years old, he left the dome without authorization (taking advantage of comparatively lax security) and set out to hunt Fleshless. Zabuza killed every single member of a nearby cluster of them before returning home, blood-stained weapons and terrifying smirk tokens of what he had done. He earned the moniker “Devil of Kiri” for this. He rather likes the name.
After that people gave Zabuza a well-deserved wide berth. He trained and became a master of quietly and violently killing- a chilling juxtaposition. After several years of mastering his craft and perfecting his techniques, the young man struck out. He joined a group of warriors who used weapons of great power- The Seven Swordsmen- and took on a powerful and massive blade as his signature weapon.
It didn’t take him long, in his traveling of the Wastes and his own dome of origin, to come across a person who would alter his life in major ways. He found the child Haku all by himself, just wandering aimlessly. In arguably the kindest act he had ever preformed, Zabuza took the boy in, training him and caring for him when no one else would. He took the boy everywhere with him, teaching him and using him as a powerful tool to further his work as a killer, and perhaps as something more.
Due to a few old grudges and feeling of something to prove, Zabuza once set out to assassinate the Chancellor of Kiri Dome and stage a coup with a raggity pair of criminal brothers and Haku as his tools. Things did not go as well as planned, and he was forced to retreat, even more of an outlaw than he already was.
Though his pride took a painful stabbing, Zabuza is not an easy man to discourage. He fully intends to try again to attack and take over the dome of his birth. But such things require time and finances. So, for now, he saves, he trains, he takes an odd and bloody job here or there, and he waits. Some day he will try again- it’s all only a matter of time.
O T H E R * I N F O
-Finds himself unable to tolerate the close company of more than a few people at once; prefers a single person, that being his little ward, Haku.
-Is saving up to launch a renewed attack on Kiri, and cannot step foot anywhere near that dome without being under a serious threat to his life.
-He is working on modifying an old motor-powered bicycle to get around faster. He doesn't like endless walking and animals don't like him, so it seems like a good individual alternative. It's still a work in progress, but so far, so good.
R O L E P L A Y * S A M P L E
It was a walk. It was just a walk. A short little walk to clear his head, as little sense as that made. Zabuza Momochi was not usually the sort to talk calming walks- they were wastes of energy and time that could be put to better use doing something productive. A walk was better spent training or making connections that could lead to a momentary advancement. Yet here he was.
He felt a little stupid, to be absolutely honest, walking around like that. As if people could see right through him and know that he was not up to any errand or training exercise, and recognize that he was just strolling around aimlessly. Of course, that was ridiculous, but it didn’t stop him from feeling oddly self-conscious and outrageous. If someone were to walk up to him at that very moment and ask him why he was even out walking, he would have had to admit that he had no idea (a confession followed swiftly by an angry demanding of why he was being randomly questioned, by way of a fist to the face). But something was telling him he ought to be out walking. Something just knew he was supposed to.
He passed by an alleyway, a narrow garbage gap between two commercial buildings. It was a crevice of an area, and so easy to overlook. In fact, the people who bustled back and forth along the rest of the street didn’t seem to see it at all, or at least they didn’t care. But a trained fighter’s instincts wouldn’t just let him pass on by without a token glance- a glance that gave Zabuza a twinge and a pause.
There was someone in there.
He stopped, turning to enter at the threshold of the crevice, where he stood with his arms folded over his chest.
A little kid, to all appearances orphaned and abandoned, just sitting there in the alleyway. Unnoticed and unloved. Nobody in the world cared what happened to him. Just some brat. Who cared if he lived and grew up to be the greatest warrior of modern times, or if he died there in the gutter, a broken little bit of trash? Nobody. Nobody at all. Zabuza couldn’t help but look at the child a muse over it. Funny thing, fate, letting one child be exalted as one who would in the future be great, and another risk death in a cold and dank corner. Something about it irritated Zabuza.
He looked down at the child. The child was looking back up at him. They regarded one another for a silent moment, Zabuza frowning behind his ever-present respiration cloth. He felt like playing with destiny a little bit today. Why not screw with fate? It had screwed him over enough in his life.
And he opened his mouth to start a relationship that otherwise might never have touched the world. “Hey, kid,” he said gruffly through his bandaged face, “What’s your name?”
Funny thing, fate.
P L A Y E R * I N F O
Age: 16
Link to active web page: ninja-band-aid.deviantart.com
RP Experience: 8+ years (Yes, since I was eight, really)
Availability: Psh. I’m a homeschooled insomniac with no social life. I find a new site and I practically LIVE there. What do you think?
Name: Momochi Zabuza
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Doesn’t really care- a body is a body
Blood Type: A
Birthday: Aug. 15
DNA: Evolved
F A M I L Y
Father: [Deceased]
Mother: [Deceased]
Siblings: None
T A C T I C A L
Occupation: Wanderer, assassin-for-hire, scavenger when it suits him
Team (if applies): His own / Seven Swordsmen
City/Dome: Former Kiri dome; wastelands
Evolution (if applies): some mild control over H2O molecules- forms and clumps them together for attacks. Not especially outrageous, though he does make creative use of this when needed.
A P P E A R A N C E
Height: 6”
Weight: 158 lbs
Hair: Black, short and spiky
Eyes: Dark brown and somewhat beady- above them are a conspicuous lack of eyebrows (Zabuza has a chemical accident in his childhood to thank for that)
Body Type: Tall and muscular. Zabuza is extremely strong, musculature hard-cut from years of a difficult, active life. His strength matches well with his height, and he towers easily over most people he knows; he loves being so big, since it serves as a wonderful intimidation tactic. He will gladly bulk and puff himself up to exacerbate this. Nobody wants to mess with someone bigger than them.
Clothing: He prefers a more-or-less simplistic look. To begin, his feet are protected by thick leather boots, buckled and zipped closed, and all but falling apart these days- it’s not easy to get new pairs outside polite society shops (he claims he likes this pair, and doesn’t want to bother with breaking in new ones- in reality, he’s just stubborn). The boots are covered with leg-warmer-like fabric, which leads up to a pair of protective but loose leather trousers. On his upper half, he wears a black “wife beater”-style shirt, and gauntlets and grieves over his forearms.
On occasion, he will also throw on a short, baggy “Greaser”-style leather coat, but only when he finds that it is too cold or too rough (worse than usual air quality, etc) to go without it.
He has a holster for his weaponry- a giant sword- that goes over his back, resembling the illegitimate child of a gun holster and a backpack.
Most outstanding in his appearance is his respirator- it covers the lower half of his face, and is made up of several layers of filtering material and cloth, wrapped around his face and neck. He rarely removes it, as he resides in the dangerous wastelands. But even on the rare occasion of his entry into a dome, he prefers to keep it on. Not only can one not be too careful, it also helps him avoid anyone recognizing. Zabuza is not known for making friends, after all.
Explanation and/or picture: Image Pending
W E A P O N S
Guns: None
Melee: One giant, tough-as-nails, Head-Cleaving sword
Other Equipment: A collection of knife projectiles, kunai, as a preliminary precaution, but nothing he relies upon.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Zabuza Momochi is not an easy man to be around. If he isn’t attempting to kill you (which he very often is, as there are few people he will tolerate and even fewer he actually likes) than something must be in it for him. He either has some way he has found to use you, or else he has agreed to be used by you in exchange for some worthy compensation. If these requirements have not been met, yet you are still around him, than you had better be on your best behavior, for fear of a heavy blade to the head and a swift end.
After all, he belongs to no dome- he doesn’t have to abide by any of those foolish little “laws”.
It isn’t that he’s heartless or cruel. It’s that he is very anti-social and has a short fuse. He has been known to lash out when angered or feeling as though he needs to prove something- and spectacularly so. Finds pity and empathy pathetic in most situations, though with Haku he finds it… sweet. not that he would publicly use the word.
He is a man of few words, and those words are spoken in a gruff, harsh growl or else a sharp bark. It’s not that he’s particularly stoic, per se, but he doesn’t really like to waste time with chit-chat he considers to be pointless and dull. He isn’t much for vulgar jokes (though he isn’t above coarse language), or humor in general; he is most smiley when in the thick of battle (one of the few things he considers to be “fun”) or around a certain ward of his.
Around the only person he consistently puts up with- even likes- he is actually acceptably pleasant, in his own odd way. He will actually smile behind his respiration cloths, and he might actually hold a conversation.
But this is only in private, of course. The remainder of the time he is simply a grim reaper of a figure: imposing, harsh, and deadly.
H I S T O R Y
Born to normal people of no consequence in the dome of Kiri, Zabuza might have been a normal child, with an average upbringing. Unfortunately, he seemed to have been born with a bloodlust, and as such, felt the need to prove himself as a dangerous person, even at a young age.
When he was only nine years old, he left the dome without authorization (taking advantage of comparatively lax security) and set out to hunt Fleshless. Zabuza killed every single member of a nearby cluster of them before returning home, blood-stained weapons and terrifying smirk tokens of what he had done. He earned the moniker “Devil of Kiri” for this. He rather likes the name.
After that people gave Zabuza a well-deserved wide berth. He trained and became a master of quietly and violently killing- a chilling juxtaposition. After several years of mastering his craft and perfecting his techniques, the young man struck out. He joined a group of warriors who used weapons of great power- The Seven Swordsmen- and took on a powerful and massive blade as his signature weapon.
It didn’t take him long, in his traveling of the Wastes and his own dome of origin, to come across a person who would alter his life in major ways. He found the child Haku all by himself, just wandering aimlessly. In arguably the kindest act he had ever preformed, Zabuza took the boy in, training him and caring for him when no one else would. He took the boy everywhere with him, teaching him and using him as a powerful tool to further his work as a killer, and perhaps as something more.
Due to a few old grudges and feeling of something to prove, Zabuza once set out to assassinate the Chancellor of Kiri Dome and stage a coup with a raggity pair of criminal brothers and Haku as his tools. Things did not go as well as planned, and he was forced to retreat, even more of an outlaw than he already was.
Though his pride took a painful stabbing, Zabuza is not an easy man to discourage. He fully intends to try again to attack and take over the dome of his birth. But such things require time and finances. So, for now, he saves, he trains, he takes an odd and bloody job here or there, and he waits. Some day he will try again- it’s all only a matter of time.
O T H E R * I N F O
-Finds himself unable to tolerate the close company of more than a few people at once; prefers a single person, that being his little ward, Haku.
-Is saving up to launch a renewed attack on Kiri, and cannot step foot anywhere near that dome without being under a serious threat to his life.
-He is working on modifying an old motor-powered bicycle to get around faster. He doesn't like endless walking and animals don't like him, so it seems like a good individual alternative. It's still a work in progress, but so far, so good.
R O L E P L A Y * S A M P L E
It was a walk. It was just a walk. A short little walk to clear his head, as little sense as that made. Zabuza Momochi was not usually the sort to talk calming walks- they were wastes of energy and time that could be put to better use doing something productive. A walk was better spent training or making connections that could lead to a momentary advancement. Yet here he was.
He felt a little stupid, to be absolutely honest, walking around like that. As if people could see right through him and know that he was not up to any errand or training exercise, and recognize that he was just strolling around aimlessly. Of course, that was ridiculous, but it didn’t stop him from feeling oddly self-conscious and outrageous. If someone were to walk up to him at that very moment and ask him why he was even out walking, he would have had to admit that he had no idea (a confession followed swiftly by an angry demanding of why he was being randomly questioned, by way of a fist to the face). But something was telling him he ought to be out walking. Something just knew he was supposed to.
He passed by an alleyway, a narrow garbage gap between two commercial buildings. It was a crevice of an area, and so easy to overlook. In fact, the people who bustled back and forth along the rest of the street didn’t seem to see it at all, or at least they didn’t care. But a trained fighter’s instincts wouldn’t just let him pass on by without a token glance- a glance that gave Zabuza a twinge and a pause.
There was someone in there.
He stopped, turning to enter at the threshold of the crevice, where he stood with his arms folded over his chest.
A little kid, to all appearances orphaned and abandoned, just sitting there in the alleyway. Unnoticed and unloved. Nobody in the world cared what happened to him. Just some brat. Who cared if he lived and grew up to be the greatest warrior of modern times, or if he died there in the gutter, a broken little bit of trash? Nobody. Nobody at all. Zabuza couldn’t help but look at the child a muse over it. Funny thing, fate, letting one child be exalted as one who would in the future be great, and another risk death in a cold and dank corner. Something about it irritated Zabuza.
He looked down at the child. The child was looking back up at him. They regarded one another for a silent moment, Zabuza frowning behind his ever-present respiration cloth. He felt like playing with destiny a little bit today. Why not screw with fate? It had screwed him over enough in his life.
And he opened his mouth to start a relationship that otherwise might never have touched the world. “Hey, kid,” he said gruffly through his bandaged face, “What’s your name?”
Funny thing, fate.
P L A Y E R * I N F O
Age: 16
Link to active web page: ninja-band-aid.deviantart.com
RP Experience: 8+ years (Yes, since I was eight, really)
Availability: Psh. I’m a homeschooled insomniac with no social life. I find a new site and I practically LIVE there. What do you think?