Soul Reaper, Gravelle [Finished Product, Maybe]

Shinigami

Name: Remington Gravelle, ‘Ankou’

Age: 64 years old, appears 21.

Height: 5’11”

Weight: 150 Lbs.

Gender: Male

Looks: Tall and Lean, with little much else to describe himself aside from ‘Scarecrow,’ he differs from many of the typical Soul Reapers around him in almost every way, from his physical appearance, to his style of dress, and even his mannerisms. His eyes are a between a faded to vivid teal colour, while his hair is often unkempt and shaggy, being a total length of four to five inches and an earthy brown hue. Perhaps his most distinguishing features are his eyes, a collection of twenty-one tattoos across his upper torso. The eyes are simple in design, featuring a slit with the Yin-Yang as the pupil, and are across the first knuckles of his left hand, and then organized in threes on his shoulders, chest and back, with the last four being above and below his own eyes. He wears a soft-edged wedding band on his left ring finger, along with a one-inch metal talisman on cord around his neck. His features are somewhat rugged as well, as he has an unkempt bristly beard, and dark features around his eyes (the natural ones, not the tattoos).

He disregards the standard uniform of the Soul Reaper, wearing instead a black, sleeveless Bedouin coat with purple trim and pattern on it. This, coupled with his leggings, which are more so just baggy black cargo shorts with the bottoms wrapped tight with purple ribbon, give him a unique, but unrespectable appearance. Add to this his selection of accessories, and he sometimes appears to be ridiculous. His aforementioned accessories are a compact musical device with headphones, a pair of wooden katana and a European short-sword, and lastly, a Walthers PPK Pistol, though not like a normal pistol. He also carries a pair of black, wire-rim glasses, and contact lenses case.

((On a side note, the purple pattern of the Bedouin Coat is floral, if anyone would like to know))

Personality: A firm believer in routine, he is a very patient and calm man, with who almost never gets angry. He prefers to avoid fighting without cause, and usually likes to sit back and listen to the bickering of others. He enjoys listening and learning, and tries to help out others when possible. He can be an uptight sod sometimes, refusing to help out, even if things appear dire. He seems like a radical and an agent of change, but he prefers to keep the system he has, the one which has worked for so long, despite the wear and tear, and age and flaws and corruption it has suffered. He also enjoys taking things apart to see how they operate, and also creates strange works of art and gadgets.

But then, there’s also a small twist to his personality, although, it’s more like two small twists, and they have names; Afe, and Ira. But that’s a secret.

Sealed Zanpakuto: A short katana with a black grip and a simple crossguard, looking quite atypical, despite its shorter size. It also lacks a few other particular designs of the usual Zanpakuto; it lacks the curve of a katana, has no true distinguishing features, and lacks the sheen and lustre of even a normal sword, appearing as a flat, charred blade.

Stats:

Spirit Power: 35

Speed: 15

Technique: 10

Fighting Skill: 5



History: Lived for twenty-one years, died forty-three years ago, and spent forty years training as a Soul Reaper. In his years in the Soul Society, he did not garner much respect from the others, nor win over many, or any friends with his foreign mannerisms and attitude. His knowledge, or desire to learn was, at times great, while at others, it was otherwise engaged with something irrelevant. His was a frustration upon others, and he showed no signs of excelling in any field, except for the machinations and creations of the twelfth division. He designed a rather crude idea and mechanism for a gun, which allowed for longer-ranged combat, and although far from perfect, it was somewhat useful. Though typical protocol dictated that it be forbidden from use until its full impact was understood, he nonetheless made four copies, and had them worked upon with scientists of the Twelfth division to test them, (he kept one for himself however, to try it out for himself).

He keeps his past life, as a living man, a well-guarded secret from others, and refuses to speak about it, often becoming aggressive in the process. He once was married, before his death, and though he hasn’t been able to leave the Soul Society, he longs to return to her once again. He has yet to pass any examination which would allow him to become a fully-fledged Soul Reaper, and has no ties to any of the thirteen divisions, except for the Twelfth division.

Role Playing Sample:
“I will not begin my day without my Cocoa.” Remington pouted.

“Gravelle, you have to get up and leave. You have to attend your duties as a student.” Replied the ranking Soul Reaper.

“It’s ‘Les Ankou.’” Remington interjected, “I prefer to be called ‘The Ankou.’ And I’ll not leave until my Cocoa is ready. It’s not proper to begin the day without fulfilling one’s routine.”

The Soul Reaper opened his mouth to respond again, but Remington waved him off.

He picked up his mug and brought the concoction he called ‘cocoa’ to his lips, and proceeded to make loud, obnoxious slurping noises as he drank the chocolate-mint-hazelnut-milk-flavoured thing, savouring the taste and the feeling. What he had deemed a single morning’s cup of cocoa was in fact, not; in reality he was drinking down a full litre and a half of the stuff from a converted coffee percolator, which in turn gave him his first kick for the day.

He sighed with relief after finishing his drink, and then put the pot down and made his way to his toilet. He reflected upon how he’d changed since his days when he was alive. Living, he’d always dress in the morning first, and THEN drink and eat, but in his years as a student at the academy, he’d grown confident in himself, and had taken to reversing the order, drinking and eating his breakfast in the nude, and then dressing afterwards. Not for the first time in his life, and never the last, he reflected upon other things that were interesting; his particular mutations, being dead, this life, and much more while he did his morning business.

He looked around at his room as well, noting the staleness to it. Most everything was of a particular motif, Asian from his guess, while he had taken to personally remodelling his own room to more resemble something American, especially with the door. He had hated how easy it was for someone to sneak upon him with those sliding wall-is-a-door-too-things. He had shelves, and cupboards, and even a microwave and a toaster, he loved his fridge. Almost no one had amenities like he had, and he cherished them. The whole world was still alien, and he was still learning, which was hard, since he had lived a ridged scientific life beforehand. Everything had a place, and this fell into no category he knew.

He shook his head.

“It’s been forty years now. I’d think I’d have gotten the hang of things by now.” He said to himself.

”We have gotten the hang of things. It’s just now we have to apply a different set of rules to our world.” He mused to himself.

He pulled some toilet paper from a roll beside himself and cleaned up before leaving the toilet and moving to his dresser.

”Where do you suppose all of this comes from and goes to? There’s no electricity or plumbing in this particular place, and we’ve been over it quite often.”

”Today’s just another day where we never do know.” He paused. ”Perhaps we’ll ask today!”

He pulled on his clothes, and set away his tools in their proper places. His hand hovered over the Kama on top of the dresser. He wanted to learn how to use it, badly. He sighed and left, meeting the Soul Reaper outside the door and startling himself.

“Damned to the gods!” He cursed under his breath, “You didn’t have to wait.”