Character Bio: Sal Norongachi

Name: Sal Norongachi
Age: 23
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 168 lbs
Gender: Male

Personality:
Impulsive, blunt and crude.

Appearance:
Sal has an athletic build, more a swimmer of long distance runner than a body builder. His hair is dark brown, short and scruffy. His eyes are also brown. His face is thin and long, with a prominent chin, chiselled cheek bones and a straight nose that would look massive on anyone else.


Sealed Zanpakutō: (The swords name is in Scottish Gaelic instead of Japanese.)
Claidheamh Mòr
English Translation: Claymore.

When Sealed Claidheamh Mor is just a simple Katana, the likes you would see on many Shinigami.

History/Background:
Sal grew up in Glasgow, Scotland in the run down East End of the city. His father had left when he was two leaving his teenage mother to take care of him on her own. He was a hyper child, full of energy and mischief that often found him on the wrong side of the law. He attended London Road Primary School where his lack of concentration and high energy proved a problem although his teachers commented that if he was tied down to his chair he was actually very bright. He moved on to Whitehill Secondary School at the age of 12 but he'd lost interest in learning and arrogantly believed he knew it all, as most teens do, and left school in 3rd year.
He took a job in a call centre for a leading mobile phone provider and worked there for several years. Twenty three now he is trainer and one of the longest serving members with the call centre. It was shortly after his twenty third birthday that a job opening arose in Japan, a new call centre being opened and he was offered the task of training the recruits in the Capital Tokyo.

Stats

Spirit power: 30.5

Speed: 15

Intelligence: 6

Kidou Mastery: 0

Fighting skill: 31

Overall: 82.5

Shikai: +3 to Spirit power, Speed and Fighting Skill.

Call out phrase: Sound the funeral bell, Claidheamh Mor!!

Description of released form:

With a length of almost 5ft(55") Claidheamh Mor is a massive weapon. Its blade a bright silver, its hilt a dark grey with two prongs coming off either side ending in sharp spikes. The handle is simple and functional with a black fabric grip wound around it. Its pommel is also a silver spike.

Ability 1: Claidheamh Mor's released form grants the wielder substantially increased strength.
+5 to Fighting Skill.


Rp sample:

It was late, very late if you went with the time difference from Scotland to Japan, and Sal was still awake, unable to sleep. His apartment, provided by his employer, felt alien to him, unfamiliar, like the city itself. The people were so different than the Scottish. More polite, respectful, formal. Every time he opened his mouth he felt like a rude, ignorant foreigner. In Glasgow the people were blunt, upfront, highly confrontational and so the difference between the mild mannered and highly respectful Japanese was immense.

He wandered away from his recliner chair, the only sound being the quiet tones of a Japanese game show presenter on the TV in the corner, and made his way to the window. The thing about being in a big city was that it was never truly night. It was dark this was true but the various lights gave a very synthetic look to the night, shaded the darkness in pale yellows and neon. Tokyo was no different. Down bellow, even at this late hour, people mulled throw the streets, cars sped along the roads. In its essence it was exactly like Glasgow but instead of the drunken drawl of the Glaswegian accent there was Japanese.

Sal gave a sigh and rested his hands on the window ledge, leaning his weight onto his fore arms, and cast his eye down to the street some three floors below. He missed home, missed the familiarity of it all, the smell of the chippes cooking food in various forms of batter. The drunken singing, the usual off key tones of the drunkard. He missed ebing able to navigate the darks streets drunk as a skunk and still find his way home.

The thoughts swirled around in his head, dragging him further into a pit of depression when some thing caught his eye. It was just a mass of shadow against the artificial light of the city but it drew him in. Whatever it was it was huge, it moved with a frightening speed, coming straight toward him. Only a gasp escaped his lips, barely audiable above the sound of broken mortar and glass.

White mask, Face of the Devil. The wind in his ears, falling.

Sal Norongachi 2286-2309.