Zanpakuto Spirit
Name: Omatsu Nosaki Kaku no Fuyu
Nickname(s): Naziko Fuuma
Age: 400
Visual Age: 30
Gender: Male
Division: Eleventh
Family Type: Ice/Smoke
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Height: 7'0
Weight: 237lbs
Body Frame: Medium
Blood Type: O
Sound of Voice: His voice his incredibly deep. Whenever he appears to arrive upon the scene, it is apparent that a massive man is in the vicinity. Or it appears that way, due to the deep booming that erupts from his voice as he speaks. His voice, in fact. Seems demonic, a kin to some form of devil. Especially when he gets into a fight. He seems to laugh a lot as well, and his laugh is incredibly high pitched. Annoying even. However, many females find his voice to be attractive. Whenever he isn't being engaged in battle, or reading some novel. He seems to carry on a decent conversation, a well educated one at least.
Appearance: He is rather large, and brute. His face seems to be manly, well, in the sense that he could easily scare his opponent if he was in a dark ally. His face has numerous cuts upon it as well, forming three X's under his left eye. His eyes a crimson, and his hair is in a long azure pony-tail. He is rather dashing however, whenever he isn't enraged in combat, he appears to seem serious and stern. Not being a power hungry idiot, rather just being a man who enjoys the Arts of Combat, and fighting people who he thinks provide worth opponents to him and his cause. His clothing is casual for sure. He wears two gauges in his ear, double zeros. Which happen to be the only article of metal upon his body. His pants are comfy, fine-fitted. Not tight nor baggy. His shirt is tucked into these pants, and his over-coat seems to be long. A trench-coat of sorts which hides away his tail, which has rapped around his body. His anatomy is correct to that of a horse. As that is what his spirit was to portray back in the olden days.
Introvert/Extrovert: Extrovert
Hobbies: His hobbies are point blank and simple. He enjoys reading, and sparing. That is the limit of his hobbies, as if he isn't doing one or the other, then he is spending time outside. Enjoying the view of his surroundings. His other hobbies include interacting with females, and talking to Arrancars. Who he believes to not be so sadistic from his old master race the Shinigami. He rather likes to study the behavior of these two races.
Likes- Violence, Fighting, Reading, Educated Discussions, Ignorance, Arrancars, Shinigami, Females.
Dislikes- Quincy, Kido, Arrogance, Wealkings, Idiots, Jackasses.
Personality: Bold, and Calculating. There isn't much to say about this males personality. It is clear on what he likes and dislikes, and he is rather, unexpressive in tone. Nearly monotone. He never really laughs, and he keeps the same blank expression on his face. Though, at times when he might lose his cool, he will crack a smile. Which is rare in its own right. If however, he is able to lose his cool, he is still able to stay on point. It is very hard to distract him. Which is why he is so vulnerable in ambushes and such. When there are multiple opponents, he often focuses on one, and only that one. Making him well off in an Ambush if he is the one involved in the attacking part, but not so much if he is in the defensive part.
Defining Characteristics: He has a rather noticeable azure tail. Much like a horses.
Specialties: Acute Hearing.
Fighting type: Long Ranged
History/Background: Tales spand across time in the oddest fashions. The warrior, who had served a life to become as powerful as he was, was just a simple man by the name of Naziko. Who happened to have come across a rogue blade named Omatsu. This blade, was not a spirit, however, this blade was recovered by the man whos goal was to infact hold its power within his own grasp. Now, back when his old master first achieved the Shikai stage of Omatsu. It was quite the experience. Their first battle played out as something rare. Instead of a field of blades, in which the master would need to achieve the correct blade in order to stand up to Omatsus might, the master decided to just use his own brute force to take down Omatsu. Which, by normal standards would be a suicide mission. However, Omatsus old master had a great skill in the arts of hand to hand combat. Which Omatsu was not suspecting. Odd that it played out that way, seeing as both Zanpoktou and Wielder both share half of the same soul. Omatsu, was not expecting the bare-knuckled assault. However, it was to Omatsus advantage. During the beginning of the scuffle, Omatsu's old master, Titan, look dazed and confused. Quite hilariously. Turns out Omatsus master was nothing more then a common idiot. Someone who lacked the basic levels of knowledge. Due to the fact that after Omatsu explained the objective, Titan flew into a wild rage and caught Omatsu in the snout. Knocking him over. Omatsu was stunned by this display, but after much fighting, and Titan losing Oxygen, it turned out that Titan gained a bit of knowledge, drew a blade, and struck Omatsu once over the back. Ending the battle, and allowing Titan the access of the Shikai.
A few years later and Titan had nearly mastered the powers of the Shikai. No that would be a lie, he barely learned a single technique and by chance stumbled upon the rest. Titan found using his Zanpoktou boring, and this was clearly evident on the night in which the Eleventh division had a festival. More like a drinking party. While everyone was partying it up, a pretty powerful Arrancar had infiltrated the SS, by use of a traitor (Who was later caught and beheaded.) and went snooping around the Barracks. When morning came, a few shinigami were dead and the Gotei decided that it wasn't anything to serious. Titan was out one day, doing a job for the division in which he had worked along side the Captain, and the Lieutenant. He was not ranked, but did possess great strength. Which is why he was dispatched with three others to find out what would happened the night before to their barracks.
Omatsu was astonished that his master was losing. But he could not let him die. No. He decided to lend him the power of his Bankai. However, Titan refused, and with that Titan was killed in battle by the assailent. This assailent was no Arrancar either. It happened to be a Shinigami who had also mistaked Titan as a Hollow. It was easier to mistake this due to the fact that Titan didn't use his bankai. Omatsu, became a blade that was normally, going to fade from existance. However, due to the propeirties in which Omatsu came into nature, he was allowed to be lended to anyone who defeated his original master. This was, one of the shocking outcomes in the powers in wihch Omatsu had so greatly tucked away. Naziko, took hold of the Zanpoktou, unaware of its ture abilities, and wore it upon his body. You see, Naziko was not a member of the Soul Society. Rather, he was not a high ranking officer. Just some lowly kido weilder, who never used a zanpoktou before. Therefore his soul was also voided. Because of the unique beings being incomplete, Omatsu not having his master, and Naziko not having a Zanpoktou. The two created some sort of bond. A spiritual pact. However, over time, Nothing had changed. Omatsu was not ready to just hand Noziko his power.
Omatsus lonely ambitions grew, and his sadness grew with his lonely mind-frame. Why was he being neglected. The more that Naziko tried to tap into his power, the more Naziko was rejected. It was beginning to fester, and it seemed that perhaps, without titan, that Omatsu would forever be lost in his own anger and ambition. Omatsu was freed for some odd reason. But he noticed that he didn't feel the same anymore. As he stood in front of his drooling master. He looked down, his form. he was no longer the majestic beast with hooves and fine white skin. He was a human, or what appeared to be a human. Naziko was stunned but not for long, as he was stricken down with a single blow. Leaving his body charred and without ashe. Omatsu then took on the name of the man he killed. As an Reminder that he alon had the power to control his own wishes. That he alone was strong enough to cast out those who sought to harm him. He was Naziko Fuuma, the master of himself, and only himself.
Role-play Sample: A adjustment to the glasses was made, and the books carried in the hand of the Bounto: Origin of Species by Charles Darwin. Nowhere within this text did it confirm the likely possible creation of spirits. Thus in the mind of a Fisto, where logic was key. The studies of this man, are discredited. Not like the hot desert air didn't make things worse however. After all the Bounto, had, made his way among the sands. Found himself, in this unique area. This large, dome. Dome implying the curved shape of this huge building, and the fact that, this building was so large, that it was dome-like in shape. Redundant. Perhaps, but the dome still stood in his path. So he made, his way, around it. Finding out where all this chaos was coming from, simply following the unique powers clashing in the distance. Due to the overall impossible structure of the current area. It was perhaps, to big. To grand a place to be torn down for the sake of a few loose coins. But the merit that would come from taking out this great monument to the power of the Arrancar Race was to good a chance to reject.
It, That large building that reached up into the sky, and pillared its way to the clouds(even if only by dreams) bustled with the living Arrancars. Those who, had been living, and because of there living and that they where alive it was seen that them being so alive was them living in a state of false livelyhood. They where, in fact, so annoying. That they would become irrelevant. In actuality the entire reason of being here was in fact so irrelevant that when it came down to analyzing his own actions with the superego, he could not even process or manifest it into words. Sigmund Fraud would be ashamed. Hope glimmered. A savage nazi, burrowing into the dunes of trenches, this war would be bloody. The time to act, was now, the time to kill was now. It was now. Now, was the hour and the hour struck at now. Though if it was a dome, or a room. The hour never changed. Either way, the event followed in unison with fate.
The Topaz was indeed Flawed, and that flaw was so flawless that it seemed to be flawed in the eyes of those who where alive, and flawed. How annoying, how indescribable. The dreadnought, was already about. Like the clouds which never pierced the skies before. The red baron of a Bount had posistioned himself. That nose-ring, attached to the face of the man, who was so flawless, had ripped, and morphed, flawlessly. It was not even seen, because of the flaws that had captivated the enemies who where oh, so, flawed. But the man, Adjusted his fucking glasses. With a glint hinting that he would, not be denied satisfaction. How dare he be disrespected in the home of another. It was not a Gentleman like thing to do. But it would happen. It was a day like no other, Like spadroons. The rain poured down over the area. Not even touching the French or Haitians. With a quick accelerated movement.
Arrival, above the man, female. Whatever that Arrancar who claimed the rights of being the Highest in charge was. Touou perhaps. Indeed. He adjusted his glasses, as the man peered to Pluto. That female who had been seen from the corner of his eye. That event the latter. The man winked, as the cloud ripped open. It was forming during the whole charade down below. The water had already soaked into the roof of the building, weakening the foundation little by little. As the whole that Mr. Touou was formed, That new opened hole, cracked, and a pillar, of that odorless, and colorless liquid dropped down. It decended, at such an alarming rate. That it would reach the Arrancar. The Touou, as it spiraled counter clockwise. The water being like senbon, but as deadly as katanas. Pillar being wide enough to drown, and submerge, yet able to be split in half by a sword strike. If an opponent was dumb enough to take the pillar head on. Now, this Bount, was not afraid to die. Therefore.
The clouds accumulated in numbers. Making the rain, intense now. About this time Drake would have followed suite of the Commanding Touou. Syker took his glasses off, and placed them in a pocket. Snapping his fingers as the roof of the building had cracked greatly, flooding inward. Spiraling down a rush of water of unfathomable proportions. He spiked his green hair up, as the water, had caved in the below area, and now tendrils of water, spiraled upwards. Erecting into the sky aiming to, mutilate. Only the sound of think rain was sensed. But no, none of this was reality was it? Null. The benefactor had already contracted the storm. The water burst, vaporous liquid. Filled the domes helm. The Cave in following suite. But still, the glasses sat in that pocket.
Where, was this proportion. Why did the air have to be so foggy now. It was not even normal. The man, adjusted his glasses. Which he didn't even have on his face. The water from the rain, would assimilate with the surfaces touched. That assimilation, bring negative Mr. Poi, to activate his ability. 1000, Sen in Japanese. Arsenic, bland and useless without a good amount of people to hit with it. Regardless, the meteors rained down. In his mind that is. Syker had already coated himself with some of the Dread. So that Exodus would rise and help him have some sort of edge. Or so it would seem. That large pool processing into a higher form. A state unknown by mortal means. Whichever worked at the time. These little doosy, was meant to torment or kill. Like a tracker Hound.
Eruptions, the brain reaching a state of pure bliss. That dread, was potent, its own deserted shell never existed. Truly a free doll. No Bount hurt from the events, no Frenchies either. It rolled back it forth, altering and fluxing its own lips. It wanted to taste and crave it. It wanted the entire blossom to be formed. The vapor, rinsed, morphed. Into its watery form, and drew inward. Spiraling vortex to the height of the sky, in which the pillar blasted downward. Approaching the roaches. This action, described as the light tower into heaven. Craniums, oh how these craniums where not spared. Each with an individual sprialing torrent fleeting for them. Syker looked at the Arrancars, analyzing them. "Twas brillig, and the slithy toves. Did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves. And the mome raths outgrabe." He smacked his hands together, as a blade of water, formed around the wrist. Pulling with water pressure. It was simply effective. That crude sword created to face off with Whoever dared rush at him. It had begun. Death is a fisherman, the world we see his fish-pond is, and we the fishes be; his net some general sickness; howe'er he Is not so kind as other fishers be; for if they take one of the smaller fry, they throw him in again, he shall not die. But death is sure to kill all he can get, and all is fish with him that comes to net."
Home 
