Name: Arawn DanShir
Age: 130 Appears 22
Personality: He tends to be bluntly honest, only because “lying is too much work”. He forgets people’s names, so uses “sir” or “ma’am” to get by. So the military etiquette works fine for him. Or he calls people by first name like it’s a title “Mr John” rather than “Mr Smith”. When deep in thought he tends to pace and mutter to himself. Those points aside Arawn tries to keep a level head and calm disposition in most situations, but it doesn’t always work. He believes getting emotional can get in the way, and tends to keep to himself when able. Unfortunately, if left alone his attention tends to wander, gets easily distracted, or even takes a nap. He can work with groups, but isn’t too fond of crowds. He makes a horrible leader, but he becomes a tremendous asset to others when help is required. He believes in getting the job done efficiently, if possible, even if it’s pointless busy work. If someone could get him to focus and concentrate, Arawn is capable of more than he knows. Or perhaps he knows, and refuses to do more than he wishes to do. He loves to tinker with machines even it does end up breaking them. Trying to fix them afterwards is just as enjoyable for him. His curiosity is can sometimes get him into dangerous situations. It’s not too odd for him to be caught thinking when he should be acting.
Appearance: Arawn isn’t all that impressive a figure. At a height of 5’10 he’s not too muscular, nor is he scrawny. Thin but fit, would be an accurate descript. What little muscle that his body has was developed is from bicycle riding and odd jobs around the town where he lived while young. In college he did have options for physical activities such as martial arts and track. His red hair is short and messy falling just below his ears sometimes covering his eyes. A small stubble peaks from beneath his chin and failed attempt at a soul patch rests just under his bottom lip. His brown eyes emerge from drooped eyelids, giving a constant half-awake/bored look. He wears a set of silver rimmed circle glasses that rest on his short nose. He claims to be nearsighted yet often takes his glasses off to rest his eyes.
Sealed Zanpakutō :
The blade measures about 27 inches in length with a slight curve. The blade itself is bright silver from back to edge. The tsuba is dark gray and circular, it’s decorated with a small golden ring almost where it meets the habaki. On closer inspection the gold ring is actually a wingless dragon making an ouroboros. The habaki itself is also golden. The handle measures about 11inches long. The tsuka-ito wrappings are black, with the gray wood handle showing within the gaps. The sheath is as deep gray, with small minute white spots evenly spaced along its length.
Spirit power: 32
Fighting skill: 25
(+5 at Rank 1, +5 at Rank 2, +10 at Rank 3 +10 at Rank 4, +10 at rank 5, +15 at rank 6) (+1 training Tech)Up to date - 2/05/13
Call out phrase: Drift, Huang Long
Description of released form:
天のドラゴンの牙 (Heavenly Dragon's Fang) The released form is that of a golden kukri blade
that measures 23 inches long, 3-4.5 inches wide (Included area of curve) with a 10 inch handle. The small etchings along the top of the blade resemble dragon scales. Abilities:
Ability 1: 空白の空気 (Empty sky)
With a touch the weapon makes items weightless by creating an anti-gravity field. The area that becomes weightless is equivalent to the size of the blade. Example: Should he touch a person's arm, only the arm would become weightless not the whole person. Prolonged touch of the weapon advances the effect to other parts connected/touching the initial part (or from the new part touched.) The duration of the effect is quite short; only 2 posts. An additional touch before the effect wears off increases the duration (by 1 turn). By concentrating his reiryoku he can increase the anti-gravity field around his blade to a 1ft radius. Anything touching the increased field is affected the same way as touch the blade proper.
Ability 2: 王の玉座 (Throne of the King/King's Throne)
This ability creates a 1ft repulsion field around Arawn's sword. While this is effective against solid/physical objects; it is unable to affect pure light or energy. In addition to pushing objects away from the designated area it also forces the air. Thus creating a vacuum around the weapon. Since it's area of effect is the same as the first technique it's impossible to utilize both skills at once.
Ability 3: 深い 転ぶ (Deep Fell [rough]) - A dark haze surrounds the golden kukri. When an object it touches Arawn's blade he compresses gravity to crush/bind a target/object in place. Unfortunately this ability doesn't work on energy or light based attacks/objects (without form or weightless) The effect only lasts for 1 post. Anyone with greater Spiritual power or Fighting skill than Arawn's Spiritual power will not be bound by this and will only experience -10 Speed for the duration of contact. This effect does not stack with each hit.
History/Background: Born August 1, 1880 Arawn lived a completely ordinary life. Brought up in the town of Grimsby, England he learned the fish trade between schooling. His name has a more interesting story than his youth.. His Great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather on his father’s side (I think I’m missing some great’s) was rumored to been a viking that helped settle the town in the 9th century AD. Their family name Dak Shikar slowly evolved into Dan’Shir. His grandfather, who was given the honor of naming him, meant to name him “Aaron”, but his thick accent got it mistaken for “Arawn”. His father was English and his mother Irish, they had two children previously, and had a fourth child three years after Arawn. It was a small town lifestyle he lived. Fun at times, hanging out with friends, and nightly family diners, but nothing of note. His younger years passed fairly quickly, his school life saw few bad grades. His inquisitive nature showed from time to time, granting him some higher marks. A schoolyard bully fight, lost lunch money, betting on sports games, a cliché school life. After graduation he attended college in Wales, but never picked a major. He tried various classes/courses and had yet to find anything he liked. In 1902 he visited Cleethorpes to see his sister after her pregnancy; unfortunately this would be the place of his demise. Arawn was killed by the newly established street cars that started to service the area. The accident totaled nearly 10 vehicles, but only had four fatalities. Arawn was numbered among them. While he had lived an ordinary life, his afterlife was interesting. Although he died in 1902 he didn’t reach Soul Society until 1904. The shinigami that was in the area reported sending two souls at the scene; and a third soul not long after that incident, but not a fourth. The shinigami that sent him to Rukongai was located in another area many miles away. Arawn had apparently approached him first. When questioned about it later Arawn claims that due to a misunderstanding he had avoided the shinigami for those years.
Rp sample: His heartbeat hammered in his ears. Nervous wasn’t the word he’d use to describe it. Anxious mixed with apprehension; he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. His eyes slowly crawled across the room. There wasn’t much to see, small well lit room with no windows. The room was at best twenty by twenty feet square, with 3 of the walls ash white, the ceiling and floor were a drab gray. The fourth wall made of mirrors; Arawn casually looked at himself the reflective wall. Even without his glasses he could make out the white blob of color. He looked down at his ruffled gi, close up he noted the dirty spots that peppered his uniform’s long sleeves. He was never comfortable in a gi. Its fabric was rough and itchy like burlap on the inner parts compared to its outer silken appearance. The shirt’s V – neck tightly pressed against his body. He absent-mindedly tugged the collar pulling it from rubbing against his neck and letting the cool air on his chest. He felt warm still, his heart fluttering no slower. Trying to adjust himself more, his hands shifted down to his belt. The belt kept the lower portion of the gi closed, it had nothing to do with keeping his pants up. His scarlet belt hung loosely around his waist, its knot bulging in front of his stomach. The knot reminded him of tie, and the mechanics of tying it were similar. The belt looped around his back twice before knotted in the front. From the knot the two edges of the nearly flat roped belt pointed down. The color wasn’t a matter of preference it was his current karate rank. That’s why he has here in this room wasn’t it? His evaluation was today, and this was the final section of the test. He had finished his one-step (half-form) and completed his kata (form) earlier that day. After that he was then lead to this small room, and told to wait. Each promotional exam of the lower ranks had required those two activities first; one-step and kata. A third activity usually followed, it being some kind of group expedition. 50 count Shuttle runs, breaking boards with hands or feet, or merely a routine practice session. He flexed his toes upon the floor; taking it’s measure, it wasn’t solid but very thin cotton padding. It gave little bounce, but felt like old leather. It was soft yet rough. They didn’t wear gloves or guards during sparring matches due to tradition, but taking a fall on hardwood floor wouldn’t be prudent. He watched his toes wiggle barely visible beneath his long white pants. The wall gave sound as a door skillfully hidden in it’s white boundary opened. A bit of daylight poured in through the rectangle, but was drowned out by the electric lighting. Two men had entered the room. Still without glasses Arawn only saw them as irregular jumbles of color. He had little trouble making out one of the two figures. The first figure was somewhat short red and what looked like black legs. The red was cut by a black line above the black leg. That was his master and instructor Mr Sheng. On evaluation days like this he commonly wore a red gi and black pants with his black belt. The other figure was harder to figure out; it was mostly white, but had the same black band across it’s middle; another black belt. Arawn wasn’t blind without his glasses things just tended to lack definition and detail from far away. He didn’t like to squint but made it a hobby to identify people and things by the daub of color.
“Stand!” called the old, but firm voice; Arawn turned his body completely to face them. His feet snapped together and his hands held firm to his sides. Stand meant for the students to stand at attention.
“Yes, sensei!” Arawn quickly replied. This was tradition, respect to the master. The two figures moved closer and allowing him to better focus. He was correct; it was Mr Sheng, Sensei Sheng, and the other a black belt student he didn’t recognize. Well, that wasn’t a surprise Arawn was rather bad with names and faces. But there were quite a few students that attending this school. He was bound to meet some people he wouldn’t know. Mr Sheng had black hair that was slowly turning white. His lightly tanned skin offset by his bright red gi, seems almost pale. His face showed no lines of age, but his manner seemed that of a frail man. Anyone believing him thus would be sadly mistaken. He was anything but weak; Arawn has witnessed a match where his master had tossed a man three times his own size and girth. “Skill more than made up for size and strength” was one of his many sayings. He always seems to have a half smile on his face even when angry, rare as that is. The black belted gentleman seemed to be slightly taller than Mr Sheng, he obviously younger, and his hair was light brown. His face was round, but he wasn’t fat more like filled out. His blue eyes smiled at Arawn, a sheepish grin on his own face.
“Arawn this man is Paul Anthony, he will be assisting you your final evaluation.” Mr Sheng began, “As part of the promotional examination, we test to see learning of the skills through one-steps and kata.” Mr. Sheng pauses and raises his palm, and motions to Arawn “At rest.” Arawn relaxes, and pulls his feet a few inches apart and tucks his arms against the small of his back. Another tradition practiced; relaxed stance, but still at attention. “Those test form and memory of the techniques. You visualize opponents and properly execute kicks and punches.” To accent this, Mr. Sheng turns to the mirror and throws a punch with his right hand at an imagined target. The small hand darts forward, fully extends, and then retreats just as quickly. The gi snaps crisply with the power of his movement. Next he performs a right front kick. His knee moves up rising slightly, then the leg rockets forward almost reaching skyward. His toes suddenly appear from under his pant leg, but touch only air. The foot then returns to the ground beneath him. Powerful and yet graceful, this is the art of a master. “But to use such skills against a real target is much more difficult. The student must come to realize a human target will not wait for them to act, it will move, and will hit back if not hit first.” Mr. Sheng claps his hands; Paul walks past him and stands about three feet from Arawn. “We shall test your application of what you have learned. Paul will be your opponent. There is no time limit. You continue till I say stop.” Mr. Sheng’s clap twice “Turn!”
Arawn and Paul turn to face each other. Paul’s smirk is gone, and is replaced with a slight glow of confidence. “Bow!” Mr. Sheng, claps again. The two men bow to one another. A red belt vs a black belt. They are divided by a single rank, but it might as well be the size of the Grand Canyon. Each belt learns different techniques, one-step and kata. Which increase number at each rank. It means quite literally that this is match if completely to Paul’s advantage. There was little chance of winning, but this was a test, was winning the goal. How far could his feeble skills take him versus a veteran? His heartbeat filled his ears once more. No time to calm down. Mr. Sheng claps a final time “Begin!”
Arawn steps back into a fighting stance, his left leg in front facing forward and his right leg back and perpendicular. His hands almost like a boxers. Paul stands with his legs spread widely apart, his hands in fist tucked against his waist, elbows jutting behind him. It’s called a middle stance, defensive, but sturdy. He's waiting for me to strike first, Arawn takes another deep breath. “Here goes nothing” he mutters and advances.