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 The Celtic Warrior

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Agent 43

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Posts : 23
Points : 11
Join date : 2010-09-26

PostSubject: The Celtic Warrior    Fri Nov 19, 2010 11:39 pm

Bounto Template

Name: Scáthach o Loinsigh (Lynch)

Nickname(s): Agent 43

Age: 60

Visual Age: 31

Gender: Male

Rank: Legendary

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Height: 6'2

Weight: 243

Body Frame: medium

Blood Type: A

Sound of Voice: His voice is that of a Celtic God. One of manly godliness that has been able to provide girls with instant swoon. He speaks in complex sentences, and almost as if he speaks in code. His metaphors and grammatical prowness for the educational sentence structures he is able to construct are rivaled only by those from the island of New Zealand. Not even a man of Ireland can speak with the swagger that this man carries. His voice is powerful, and commanding. His entirty, and his being, all stem from his voice. He is truely, a man with style and grace, and it all stems from his voice. Though, his voice and his personality seem to contridict one another, if only in small ways.

Appearance: He wears a business suite, of a varying degree of colors. He wears them with the same amout fo swagger
that he is able to come off as having. He has them in multiple colors, however he is best noted for having a blue or black suite with a multivarying colored ties. Regardless, he never takes off his shades, and his hair is a bright red. Like his native peoples pride. Though for an odd reason his stubble is black. But thats just because of his time in the Agency. His suite his precious too him. And it seems that he serves a secret organization, or thats what it appears to look like regardless.

Introvert/Extrovert: Extrovert

Hobbies: His hobbies are point blank and simple. He enjoys being mysterious, and cracking jokes. 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- Bounto, 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 his face. Nearly stone-faced. He does however, uncontrably 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: Can remember anything he has seen before, in vivid high definition.

Specialties: Can hear and see anything within fifty meters of his location, if he wishes too, and can drown out other noises to focus on one or multiple ones at a time.

Fighting type: Long Ranged

History/Background: During the fifth year of the fifth night in the fifth month.
The fifth Lynch of the fifth generation was created. Deep in pit located
within Ireland a young male was born. He however was not born with
the brain of the average male. Deep within his own mind he was created
to be more then male. Making him have the body of a male, and the mind
of a very intellectual male. . His brain was so powerful however, that he was l
osing his humanity, and not acting his age Due to this,
he was flung into the vast library that was located
within the confines of his fathers den, until he would attend a special Academy
that was created by a group known as The G2. He would be physically 15 by this time,
but with the mindset of a child. They where the almighty Republic of Ireland. They had recruited
everyone in Scáthach's village. His older brother Jin, was a violent and
savage member. With the making of a Agent ever since he was nine.
Being the age of thirteen, he had already proven his worth the the
Director. Scáthach, would, go to the den and learn more about the history,
abilities, and lore of the G2 and its inhabitants. Everyday he
had learned as much as he could, however, it was not a lot. Due to the
fact that he had no idea how to read the Gaelic writing and he was not
able to comprehend the knowledge that was now locked inside of his
cranium. He had to used his brain to make his way out of the library,
during the time that his parents where ordered to be executed, so that
Jin and himself where separated. He would have naturally followed him,
however do to his being saved by a rogue Quincy he was spared that
life of pure violence. However, his life was far worse then he could
have ever envisioned. Without the Agency backing him, he would
learn of his Bounto origins, and be subjected to the painful life of a Bounto.

The man who had rescued him worked for a group of mercs. The man
believed that Scáthach was trash, and therefore he had beat him everyday,
to make him stronger. One night, Casus witnessed the raping of a fellow
Bounto female. This made his hatred for males, and his hatred for Quincy
grow. When the Quincy attempted to do it to her again, Scáthach
snapped, in which he had murdered him at his next and last attempt.
However, before this event would unfold (At this time, the man allowed
Scáthach to join back into the Agencies conspircy driven program but
allowed him to complete missions for the G2. Due too Scáthach not being ruthless enough for
the merc life.) his first training consisted of a large metal forest in
a lightning feild. His objective was to retrieve the matrix left on a
stone in the center of the area. Simply due to the fact that he had not
learned how to release his doll properly, he was at the disadvantage.
He attempted to cross the lightning jungle. Only to be shocked and
burned multiple times, enough to have his eyes be two different colors.
However, due to the voltage prison that was made around him, he was
able to learn how to build up a nice resistance to these charges. It
made him feel, proud. He finally had reached the matrix, after five
years of running around in this Jungle (All be it not consistantly), and
due to that he had achieved his mastery of his Doll. But, as
soon as this happened, the remainder of the mercs, who where striken
with rage at the actions that had befallen their leader, sold Scáthach to
another cruel man, who threw him in a special "Home".

The rooms
in this home where small and padded with a thick durable substances.
They could withstand most if not all Human based attacks, and because
of this it was easy to note that this man would treat him as if he was
a dog. A person to be ordered around. Which was what eventually
happened. He was sent to multiple areas, and told to fight like a pit
dog, killing others so that his new "master" could earn a little gold
here and there. This life had only crafted his hatred of men even more.
Do to the fact that his master was a well known slave driver. He had
been one of the luckier ones, the rest of his many "girls" where given
"special" tasks. One night, while it was raining, he had discovered
that his brother Jin had been seen in the Area. His brother now being a
fully developed Agent. His brother had the power of an powerful illusionary
doll, and had casted one on the Slave driver earlier that night, not
knowing his own brother was a slave to this very man. The illuison had
arose from the depths of its medium and appeared to be a busty female,
clothingless. The female exclaimed that she was known as Adelaide, and
that she would protect the slaves, The girl waltzed into the room of
the owner, and seduced him. Only to have her power activate and kill
the man. The man was left with no traces, though his blood painted the
walls nicely.

He was away from that place now. When the slave crusty ass
driver died, so did all of his control over the area. Meaning all
slaves where free. Jin, noticing that his brother was there, took Scáthach
into the organization once again. While still completeing tasks for the Agency
Scáthach would begin searching the world to find his place. When he came
across this small area known as Peaks Waterfall. He was approached
by others like himself. Who accepted him into their organization. He
had no clue of what they wanted, but he found them to be a safe heaven
for himself. Because of this fact alone, he was over excited that hos
own purpose in life would arrive. However deep in his heart something
brewed. He had been known to go into violent fits, and lose his cool.
Because of this he was known as the Man Killer. Through all of his
battles, he would grow stronger and stronger. Until he was able to be
so revered by some of the members of the G2's secret branch in which
he had returned too. This Branch being one that took him around the world.
This organization trained the next breed of experments. They implated
two moded eyes inside of his skull, so that he would have too test the
abilities of these attachments. In Cairo, they had a whole horde of Superhuman
prisoners, most of which trained Scáthach in all of their knowledge so that
they could one day let their hopes and dreams ride on with Scáthach, all
of these Superhumans where female mind you. In a final test too see if the
implants worked, Scáthach had to display his power too the Director. In which
Scáthach showed to be very adept. Scáthach had showed his skill on such a
level that to gain entrance into the Elitest Sector, he would need to fight and
kill another Agent in combat. He picked his own brother, and to Jins
surprise, he bested him. Jin, who would wonder what could have made these
events happen in this way was killed as his brother whispered the
reason into his ears. "You have not suffered enough, without suffering,
one can never gain power." He claimed his brothers moded ears , and looked
into the sky. He would protect those who where of the female race even
if it would ultimately mean his death. In this year, as an Elitest Agent, he was
sent off to do an mission of the upmost importance. Even beyond his prior missions.
He had been commisioned to Karakura Town.



Role-play Sample:
(From Bleach: New Divide. Which was Hacked.)
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.".

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Byron

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PostSubject: Re: The Celtic Warrior    Sat Nov 20, 2010 2:29 am

After reading this piece of crap of a sheet, I dub thee an angry stamp.
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