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Rash ラシュ

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Rash ラシュ last won the day on April 1

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About Rash ラシュ

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  • Birthday 11/13/1993

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  1. *Breaks your posture*

    1. Molestia


      can't break what's already broken!

  2. I have spent the last 2 years in Japan studying the nuances of being a Mangaka under some of the industry's best, including our very own Tite Kubo-sensei. In fact, I have, with his blessing, begun the publication of a Bleach spin-off series currently named "Re: Bleach". It follows the events of main Bleach story after the Thousand Year Blood War. With a new OC protagonist I'll let you all guess his name *cough* Mikoto *cough*! I'm so hyped and can't wait to share more with you all. I'll have updates very soon.

    1. Yoshirou (Kyōraku)

      Yoshirou (Kyōraku)

      Always finding ways to impress. That's freaking awesome though and can't wait to find out more. 

    2. Yoshirou (Kyōraku)

      Yoshirou (Kyōraku)

      Wait I forgot... its April fools Day!

  3. Rash ラシュ

    League Of Legends

    World's is 100% rigged.
  4. Shinedown always seem to come through and announce the release of a new album just in time to rekindle my will to live~ <3

  5. Rash ラシュ

    League Of Legends

    RNG win Worlds this year, calling it from now
  6. I feel like i should type something to you too, like, hi or whatever.. But you're probably not going to see it until six months from now anyway cause you suck.. So... Like.. In short.. Hi, you suck :')

  7. Happy Holidays, peeps! <3

    1. Draka
    2. The Ghostly One

      The Ghostly One

      Raaasssshhhh!!!! Merry Christmas! <3 :3

    3. Mr. Clean

      Mr. Clean

      Happy Holidays Rash.

  8. Rash ラシュ

    Ability Approval Thread

    Character Name: Regashi Hakori Race: Shinigami Reiatsu: 25k Desired Release Approval: Shikai(s) Application Link: Character Application: Regashi Hakori
  9. Rash ラシュ

    The Warrior, The Boy, And The Mongrel

    005: THE SICKLE WEASAL PART I OOC| Post Rating [16+] Mild Violence | ----- ____________________ 100 Years Later … THE BOY panted as he ran uphill through the snow, his cheeks and nose flushed red from the cold. He could smell the scent of blood strong in the air now. The sounds of clashing weapons and roaring battle cries grew ever more clear as he steadily climbed in altitude. "Almost there, they are just above the hill." Shuu thought, he grinned wildly, pleased that he would be able to spectate another battle so soon. He paused, glanced down to his right and left and noted that the smooth white surface of the snow had already been trampled over and ruined. "They’d even ran this way!" The child thought gleefully. He turned around and stared downhill at Gennosuke, who stood in the middle of the sleet-covered road. Shuu grumbled, "Hurry up! You’re so slow, Gennosuke-sensei!" he shouted down at his guardian before he continued to tread up the hill. Gennosuke sighed softly, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes as he struggled internally. He contemplated if he should continue to encourage the child’s obsession with battles or if he should take matters into his own hands and break his vow. It was not the first time Gennosuke considered the thought, one-hundred brisk years had passed since they had bid farewell to the farmer's family and left their home in the woods. The seasons seemed to change with the day as with every new day, Shuu grew a little bigger and stronger. Gennosuke reflected on that time passed. Just as he’d sworn, they traveled together wherever Shuu’s two-feet took them. When they were not on the road, Shuu practiced swordsmanship and martial arts under Gennosuke’s expert mentorship. Shuu proved a diligent and deft student who steadily grew more and more skilled in combat. Gennosuke had began his training with a companion sword due to it being shorter and lighter in weigh; thus easier for the young boy you use. However, Shuu quickly came to prefer the ō-wakizashi to the katana and continued his training with it. Eventually, the child, who now looked no older than a pre-teen could wield his short sword with lethal prowess. But, he’d yet to ever use his skills in a duel. In the time they traveled the swordsman had allowed Shuu to only spectate battles. So, Shuu did so every instant he could. The child realized very quickly that the outermost Rukon districts were fiendish and merciless lands. There was never a deficit of battles of great and minor scales to be beheld. He watched the fights from afar and when the killings were done he ran into the battlegrounds and inspected the bodies and the weapons, just as he’d done since his toddlerhood. Shuu’s obsession with battles weighed heavy on Gennosuke’s fortitude without the former’s knowledge. The boy was constantly drawn to wars and duels in the outermost districts to such an extent that in all of their hundred years of wandering, he’d never crossed beyond the border of the seventy-seventh Rukon district. Ever seduced by the thrills of battle therein. Gennosuke had begun to fear the worst of fates for the child. That he would spend the rest of his life in this treacherous realm and that he himself, as Shuu’s guardian, would also be doomed to spend the rest of his days fighting and killing when he’d lost all love for the sword. So, Gennosuke did the only thing he could in his position, he silently prayed and begged that the boy will eventually lead them westwards to a better life. He trudged up the snowy hill after the child and when he reached the peak, he spotted Shuu seated in the snow with his legs crossed and his eyes fiercely gazed upon the bloody battle that took place below in the valley. Two opposed forces, each about three-hundred men large, clashed violently in battle. The white snow beneath they was tainted with gore and mud as the men fought earnestly with their lives hanging in the balance. Shuu did not know or care for what it was they fought, only that they fought and that it was glorious. He gasped loudly, enchanted by the spectacle. Occasionally, he’d focus on a single warrior and watch them on the battlefield, studied the way the moved and how they used their weapons. He’d count how many men they slew before eventually going down themselves. Then he’d watch the man who’d killed them. Sometimes he’d choose champions to cheer for or he’d gamble with himself on how long a man would last and which side would win the battle. Eventually the battle ended when one side retreated with fewer than a third of their initial force. The victorious party did not give chase, instead they collected their injured and their spoils of the battle and departed. Once they were gone, Shuu raced down the hill and into the valley. He inspected the bodies and probed the fatal wounds of his fallen champions while Gennosuke watched him from the hilltop. The sun had started to set soon and Shuu felt he’d indulged himself enough, it was getting late and they still needed to set up camp for the night. The boy ran back up the hill to his guardian. He stood side by side with the swordsman and put his palms together to offer a prayer as he'd seen Gennosuke do countless times before. Gennosuke didn't seem to notice right away, so Shuu nudged his side with his elbow and then he looked down at the boy. The swordsman chuckled softly before joining Shuu in the ritual. They descended the hill soon after and were off again headed west for district Seventy-seven. -------------------- 1 Week Later Eastern Rukongai District 78 Shuu lied awake throughout the final hours of the night. He was on his back on the opposite side of the camp fire, with his sword hugged close to his chest. He listened to the crackling of the flames with his cover pulled over his face up to the bridge of his nose. Waiting. His heartbeat raced with excitement and he had to focus to calm his breathing, if he was too loud his guardian would wake up. Gennosuke-sensei was a light sleeper, Shuu had learned from a previous attempt to escape the camp in the dead of night. That time he’d almost gotten caught. Shuu took a deep breath through his cover and held it as he slowly --very very slowly-- pulled the blanket over to his right side. The material slide smoothly over his front and his legs before it stacked upon itself on at his side. Shuu turned his head to the left, opposite the direction of Gennosuke and exhaled softly. His breath formed a warm mist in the cold night air and wafted in front of him before it disappeared. He looked back to the right and checked if the swordsman had noticed. No movement, Gennosuke was unstirred. The child inhaled another deep breath and again he held it as he swiftly rolled over to the left onto his belly, and atop the cold white surface of the snow. It crunched faintly beneath him and he winced at the sting of the sudden cold against his body. Still, Gennosuke had not moved and the boy grinned widely, impressed with his stealthy maneuver. Shuu looked ahead, there was a distance of three meters he needed to cross before he could move more freely. Beyond their camp was a snow-topped hedge that led further into the forest. He needed to hurry, every second he spent in the camp was a second wasted. A second earlier that he’d have to be back at the camp before Gennosuke woke up. Shuu distributed his weight through his fingertips and his toes, and widened his reach as he began to crawl sideways like a crab. He moved one steady limb at a time and checked Gennosuke for movement with every shift. The snow crunched under his hands and feet ever so slightly. Crunch… crunch… crunch… crunch… Gennosuke groaned in his sleep and Shuu felt his heart stop in his chest. His eyes widened with fear as he looked and Gennosuke was turning on his turn towards him! The boy caught a gasp in his throat and buried his face in the snow. Crunch. He held still --still as the grave and prayed to whatever God Gennosuke prayed to that the old man had not waken. But Shuu couldn't know for sure if he had. All he could see in every direction was blank whiteness, though he could still hear Gennosuke rustling under his blanket. Shuu waited. The cold had began to burn his nose and ears and he could feel himself losing feeling in his facial muscles as they became frozen numb. Then the rustling simply stopped and the night became quiet again with there being only the crackling of their campfire to be heard. Shuu lifted his head, his face bright red from all the blood that had rushed there in reaction to the cold. He looked at Gennosuke and let out a short sigh of relief. The swordsman was sleeping, as silent and as still as stone. The boy continued to crawl, completely unaware that his pace was a bit faster now but nevertheless, just as quiet. Cautiously, he shifted past the hedge and then into the forest. Once out of earshot of the camp he popped up to his two feet and scampered away into the night. Shuu panted was excitement as he ran, it was such a thrilling feeling, sneaking away from the camp at night without Gennosuke’s knowledge. He was old enough to know he was doing something bad; and know that fact he did. That didn't stop him. It hadn't stopped him for the past week and a half when these late night excursions began. The first time he'd awakened as a result of a nightmare, unable to fall asleep he wandered around the camp for a bit before ultimately deciding to venture out, knowing full and well that Gennosuke would not have approved. He’d gotten an adrenalin rush then, though it was much more intense than now, despite the fact that he hadn't gone far. Shuu had "deserted" a total of eight times since the first, including this one. That number would be nine if not for the aforementioned failed attempt, in which he almost got caught. Where did the boy go at these late hours? Usually, he just wandered about and practiced his swordsmanship against the opposing might of tree branches and the audacious logs he met in his path. On only two occasions had he been able to witness a battle; on the third and sixth night adventures. The second time was by far the most interesting, it was the first time Shuu had seen anything like it. Both the fighters had died of fatal injuries within seconds each other. Shuu still didn’t know who to proclaim the victor and he surely couldn't ask Gennosuke-sensei about it. Lest he snitched on himself. The point was that it seemed Shuu’s nocturnal activities depended entirely on how much time he had before he needed to return to the camp and how much fate favored him that night. So, it would happen, that on this particular night Shuu was greatly favored by fate but short on time... To Be Continued... ______________________________ WC|1,910 -----
  10. Rash ラシュ

    The Warrior, The Boy, And The Mongrel

    004: THE LEGENDARY SWORDSMAN OF THE EAST OOC| Post Rating [16+] Mild Violence | ----- ____________________ ... THE WARRIOR stood before his opponent, his blade drawn and held down at his side, as he looked upon his challenger with sorrowful eyes. The sky weeped of heavy rain and wailed of thunder. It was the middle of the raining season and for the past three days, the rain had poured heavier than Shuu had ever seen. The woods were soggy with mud and puddles, and the air carried a freshness that livened the young boy throughout the day. Several years had passed since Gennosuke found him and Shuu now possessed the physical and mental maturity of a four year old. Shuu sat beneath the maple tree, hugging his knees to stay warm while soaked in rain irregardless of the presence of tree branches hung overhead. But the water and cold were the last things on the young boy's mind; right now the battle about to commence between Gennosuke and this new stranger took precedence above all other worldly affairs. He worried not of the chills in his bones or the wetness of his cloths which caused the material to cling uncomfortably to his skin. He worried only that if he blinked just once to wipe a straying raindrop from his eye that he would miss the fight. So, the boy sat focused, his deep red eyes sharply peered at his guardian and the man who'd come to challenge him. Shuu had now witnessed countless of such battles and he'd seen Gennosuke duel and swiftly slay every manner of man. The battles always started the same, the strangers arrived, the strangers drew their weapon and then Gennosuke drew his; battle cries followed by bloodshed and the strangers fell dead soon after. The man who faced Gennosuke now was one of the biggest men Shuu had ever seen. He stood as tall and as wide as the mother bear that lived in the cave with her cubs not too far north of their home in the woods. And, he looked just as mean. His head was completely bald besides the thick rectangular bushes that hung above his narrow slanted eyes. He had a chiseled jaw and wide lips that seemed permanently set in a stern frown. His shoulders were as wide as Shuu on both sides. His upper-body was bare and his muscles were so defined that the rain water flowed between them like rivers between valleys of hard pale flesh. He worn simple black Karate Gi pants that were shredded at the hems and he walked barefoot. He also carried a strange weapon, unlike anything the boy had laid eyes on before. It was a long and thick iron rod, that was tipped on both ends with an iron cylinder forged in the shape of a dragon's head. Closed between the dragon's sharp jaws was a metal ring to which were attached a loose barbed chain about two feet in length. The weapon appeared as ominous and deadly as it did heavy. However, the mountain of a man was utterly unperturbed by the weight and might of his weapon, he twirled it above his head in a single hand as the young boy would a twig. Mikoto Shuu gasped in awe, a warm mist wafted from his mouth as he exhaled with widened eyes. The boy liked this man, he seemed strong and had an aura of confidence about him that dominated the atmosphere. By comparison, Gennosuke was very short and appeared humbled before the monster that stood before him. Shuu had noted long ago that Gennosuke always seemed sad whenever he drew his sword to fight the challengers; he didn't at all understand why. It troubled him how uninterested Gennosuke always looked in something as amazing and exciting as fighting. Gennosuke never shouted battle cries or smiled with confidence and self-assurance. Curiously, Shuu also noted that Gennosuke had never lost a battle. Perhaps there was a lesson or virtue to be had in his guardian's calm and humble demeanor. Shuu frowned anyway, it still frustrated his to see Gennosuke so disheartened in something that he had come to love so much. Even when Gennosuke trained him in the sword Shuu could sometimes feel his guardian's disappointment. The large stranger's weapon twirled round and round above his head and cut through air and rain with a sharp continuous swish. A flash of lightning sparked the sky alight and for a second Gennosuke was completely engulfed in the darkness of the man's foreboding shadow, as the roar of thunder followed soon after. "Legendary Swordsman of The East!" The enormous man called out, his voice boomed with an intensity that could shame that of thunder itself. Gennosuke's shoulder's fell with a heavy sigh, "Such is the title I have been given by men like yourself." The swordsman replied. "I have come from the Forty-Ninth District of the South to challenge you in battle. I am Monokuma Hidetoshi!" said the challenger proudly. "I presume you mean that take my life and with it the burden of that title?" Gennosuke, plainly. "Tell me, Monokuma-san, how old are you?" Hidetoshi, for all his might, was perplexed by the swordsman's simple question. He did not know the relevance of his age in the matter of honorable battle. "I have honed my skills for the past three-hundred years! I believe I am as fit as any man to challenge you in a duel to the death!" he pronounced before another shying roar of thunder. Gennosuke sighed and chuckled lowly noting that the brutish youngster had completely misinterpreted his question. "Yes, it would seem so." he replied. "Monokuma-san, you appear to be a very capable young man with a promising future." Gennosuke paused and lowered his head humbling himself, "Might I be able to make you reconsider?" the swordsman asked, and silently begged that Hidetoshi would accept his sentiments and turn back in his path. Hidetoshi stop spinning his chained staff and stabbed one of his dragon head's into the wet mud. "You would deny me the honor of battle?!" he questioned and made it clear that he took offense to Gennosuke proposal. Gennosuke sighed heavily and shook his head. "You shame yourself before your son?!" the brute added and he pointed his left index finger directly at Shuu. The young boy blinked curiously before waving at Hidetoshi with a wide innocent smile. "Hehehe" he giggled just before he sneezed and wiped his nose on his kimono sleeve. "You are mistaken, Monokuma-san. The boy is the reason why I cannot allow myself to be defeated here. I alone bear the responsibility of his upbringing. If we fight, I will have to kill you, for this boy's sake." Gennosuke stated firmly. Hidetoshi winced at the Gennosuke's words, his grip on his staff tightened in anger. "ARGH!" he shouted, raised his weapon, and pointed the dragon's head at Gennosuke. "Get ready, old man! Today YOU DIE!" Hidetoshi lunged forwards, his staff jabbed at Gennosuke's forehead. The swordsman calmly raised his blade and blocked the attack, but the brute force of the strike caused him to slide backwards in the mud. Hidetoshi stepped in further, rotating the center of his staff clockwise around the back of his neck before he swung the weapon in an arc in front of him. The barbed chain licked through the air with a sharp whistle. Gennosuke sprang forth in a frontwards back-roll in the mud. The whipping chain barely shied of his back. Hidetoshi redistributed the kinetic force of his staff into a second rotation, around his waist. He intended for the head of his dragon to connect with the relocated swordsman. Gennosuke had already rebounded when Hidetoshi started the second twirl of his staff and he leaped into the giant man. He planted his back against Hidetoshi's and allowed the staff's rotation to continue over his own belly as it looped around to Hidetoshi's front. Gennosuke swiftly raised his blade up in reverse-grip, the sword pointed downwards, accurately aligned with the back of Hidetoshi's right knee. Gennosuke stabbed his blade down and the knee it did sever true. Hidetoshi roared in pain at the tip of Gennosuke's blade jutted out the from of his knee and he collapsed rightwards. Instinctively, he propped his staff to catch his fall, but in that instant he'd traded his weapon in exchange for a crutch. The battle was over. Gennosuke shifted to his right, knelled low, swung his blade downwards over his head, and cleaved through Hideotoshi's remaining good knee. Shuu saw Hidetoshi's foreleg removed and felled like a log of firewood. Hidetoshi fell in turn with a second cry of agony --humbled-- as Gennosuke stood and curled the direction of his sword's edge to the horizontal. Aligned at the height of his waist and also Hidetoshi's neck. The swordsman gracefully entered a clockwise rotation of his own, his body whirled on the axis of his right foot, blade steady as the arm of a windmill. FWIP! And the head of young Hidetoshi rolled backwards off his shoulders and into the mud as the woods fell silent, save the pitapatting of the rain. Gennosuke swiped his blade through the air and sheathed it as Hidetoshi's body slumped over cold and collapsed in a puddle turned red by his blood. Gennosuke turned away from the body in frustration and sighed sorrowfully. He looked back at Hidetoshi and raised his palms together in silent prayer for his soul. Shuu was already on his feet, he ran through the mud towards the scene, as he laughed. "Gennosuke-sensei, can I keep the fancy stick, I really like it!" Shuu begged, as he wrapped his little fingers around the staff and struggled with all his might to lift it. "Uuuuuhnnnn!" he grunted throughout the entire effort, though the staff did not budge a single centimeter. "You have no use for such a weapon, Shuu." Gennosuke chuckled. "There aren't many men I know who could have possibly wielded such a weapon effectively." Gennosuke explained. Shuu, completely regardless, continued to grunt and struggle in the background. "Uhhhgnnn!" he strained for a moment before he dropped himself on his rear, crossed his arms and legs, and pouted. "It's too heavy!" Then, just as quickly as he'd sat the boy was on his feet again. He ran to Hidetoshi's head, picked it up, and playfully held it on top of his own. "I am Monokuma Hidetoshi! Gonna fight the Legendary Swordsman of the East, ROOAAAAR!" he shouted as he loosely imitated the fallen warrior. He fell to his knees and grunted before dropping the head back in the mud. "Shiiiiiiiiiiineh" he grunted again before he flattened himself face-first in the bloodied mud and rolled around laughing and kicking his legs. "Shuu!" Gennosuke, called. "Come here." "Hai, Gennosuke-sensei!" Shuu answered before running to his guardian, his face brown-red with mud and blood. "We spoke about this." Gennosuke mumbled, wiping the filth from Shuu's face with his sleeve. "Sorry, sensei." Shuu mumbled and snorted before sitting on Gennosuke's lap. "Shuu, do you know why Monokuma-san was defeated?" Gennosuke asked, prepared to give Shuu a word of wisdom in conceit and overconfident and the way to defeat enemies that are much bigger than one was. Shuu poked at his chin repeatedly and hummed in thought, "Uummmmm, because sensei chopped off his head!" Shuu answered confidently, laughed aloud, and ran off. He was gone before Gennosuke could exhale another word, so he sighed instead and shook his head. "You have much to learn, Shuu." he smiled and watched Shuu swing a stick about in the rain. "But, perhaps the lessons will have to wait." To Be Continued... ______________________________ WC|1,950 -----
  11. Rash ラシュ

    The Warrior, The Boy, And The Mongrel

    003: THE MONGREL'S HUNGER OOC| Post Rating [16+] Mild Violence | ----- ____________________ ... THE MONGREL was not truly a dog, though he might as well have been one. He was a human soul, twisted and defective in design at birth and further so by circumstance. His real name was Zasshu. In his present years he was notoriously known as "Zasshu The Vile". Zasshu had never known a happy day in his life. Like Mikoto Shuu, he was a bastard and ,also like the red-eyed infant, his mother casted him away the moment he left her womb. To no fault of his own, Zasshu was born deformed and ugly. His lips and round eyes were crooked against his massive head that looked as if his left cheek had caved inwards. His left eye was lazy and stupid; it rolled around aimlessly, never in the same direction of its right counterpart and irregardless of Zasshu's wishes. Ashamed of the hideous creature she'd brought into the world, Zasshu's mother wailed in disgust and threw him into the trash as a newborn. This caused permanent damage to the bone structure of Zasshu's right leg. So it was that Zasshu was broken that day but he escaped death, although there was no savior for Zasshu. No wandering warrior seeking redemption to find him in his vulnerable state and take him in. Zasshu would never remember how or when he got out of the trash, only that he was soon a young boy living on the muddy streets of the Seventy-second Eastern Rukon District. He had no friends or family, no home or bed. He slept in the cold muddy and dark alleys with the stray dogs, cats, and rodents. Even amongst the animals he was an outcast; barked at and hissed at, bit and scratched. The people were no kinder. The other children could spot him from down the road by the sickly leftward sway that possessed his every step as he seemed to drag his crooked right leg behind him. When the children knew he was coming they gathered rocks and sticks, waited in the alleys and crowds, and then threw things at Zasshu, who was always too slow or afraid to retaliate, as they laughed. He often met the heavy hands of adults as well, who beat him if he ever stood in their path or too near to their homes and property. One day, an old fat woman found Zasshu resting in the street in front of her home, so she chased the child with a wooden torch and hit him in the back of his head, leaving a permanent burn scar and a bald patch. Zasshu ran to the river and jumped inside to put out the flame burning his crown. It was at the river that day, aged thirty-four years with the physical maturity of a six year old, that Zasshu's Spiritual Energy awakened and thus he began to require food. But, he had no means of procuring nourishment other than begging or stealing. It became clear to Zasshu that he was not liked for that fact. In the beginning he tried to earn his meals; his services, however, were ignored. The people were not interested in his labor as he was slow, unsightly, and his disabilities made it impractical to demand of him even the most menial of tasks. They preferred to laugh, hit, and, spit at Zasshu rather than provide him any sort of employ. So, in order to survive, Zasshu took the things he needed by force. He became sneaky and cunning, and when those failed him he became feral and violent. He emulated the abhorrence his fellow people looked upon him with and reflected it back reeking of his own bitterness. No longer did he stand silently and allow people to mistreat and abuse him. No, he became the abuser. They treated him like a dog and so a dog he was, "The Mongrel of District Seventy-Two". He barked before they could bark at him. Bit before he could be bitten. Zasshu lived this way for hundreds of years and his reputation as a repulsive and shameless man only grew. He became known for his sadistic violence and perversion. He killed men, woman and girls without qualm and preyed upon young boys for his own sick satisfaction. Zasshu had lived in District Seventy-two for 183 years when the Crimson Raiders gang formed. Started as a small group of petty thugs with big dreams and ideals. The Mongrel had seen it all before with countless other men. Most of whom had died, the others were either dying or were smart enough to give up on those dreams. Zasshu knew better than any that the Seventy-Second district was no a place for growth, prosperity, or even glory. Men simply survived there. You grew, prospered, and sought glory only after you got out of the wretched place. The "better life" was not affiliated with living inside any district numbered with more than a single digit. So, Zasshu sneered and scoffed at the small men as he passed their places of congregation. Their leader Kaim, Zasshu had known for years and especially detested. The Crimson Raiders had not been organized then, though that was clearly the dream they had, to be respected and reputed all throughout the the outermost Rukon districts. "Protectors", they fancied themselves, "Protectors for a small fee that grew larger with every passing year." Glorified thugs turned glorified mercenaries and hecklers. The Mongrel didn't need their "protection" in the evenings Zasshu would go and piss in the places they gathered as he cursed them and cursed their leader Kaim in particular. It would still be many years later when Zasshu was finally dubbed "The Vile" by the Crimson Raiders after an incident in which he killed an entire family under the gang's "protection" Afterwards he stayed in their home with the rotting and mutilated corpses. His crime eventually discovered only after he unintentionally revealed himself to be in the home during a drunken fit. The Crimson Raiders, with their new lieutenant Jubei, chased Zasshu out of their territories and into the Seventy-seventh district where he finally evaded their pursuit. The Mongrel, hungry and bitter, would then wander the outermost districts for many years sating his perverted and heinous hungers. His was a name commonly known, but silently spoken, though the mutilated and defiled bodies of his victims stood testament to his ongoing activity. To Be Continued... ______________________________ WC|1,080 -----
  12. Rash ラシュ

    ORP Reset Announcement!

    Launch Week is extended until Next Sunday - 9/10/2017. This is because we did start off late in the week on a Thursday, and it also gives people some extra time to roll in on Launch Week and at least get a bit of WC.
  13. Rash ラシュ

    The Warrior, The Boy, And The Mongrel

    002: THE BOY'S FIRST WORDS OOC| Post Rating [16+] Mild Violence | Mild Language | ----- ____________________ ... THE BOY grew stronger with every passing day, Gennosuke observed. Within just a few short months he'd begun to crawl. Eventually, the farmer's wife begrudgingly admitted that he no longer needed nursing; like her own child, Shuu had begun to teethe. There were many other similarities and comparisons drawn between Shuu and the farmer's son, Ryosuke. For one, Ryosuke, despite being only a five months older than Shuu was already much bigger. His mother often remarked than her boy would make a fine farmer one day, just like his father. Shuu on the other hand was small, but what he lacked in size of body, he more than made up with in personality. He was very curious, always on the move and trying to crawl where he had no business crawling. He was also something of a bully for his age and size. Ryosuke seemed to always be on the receiving end of Shuu's infantile tyranny; being smacked, kicked, and bit whenever Shuu didn't feel like sharing space or toys or simply wanted to oppress Ryosuke for the fun of it. In turn, the farmer's wife credited his behavior to his natural fighter spirit, "He'll make a fine warrior one day, just like his father." she'd say, referring to Gennosuke. But Gennosuke was not Shuu's father. In reality -and although he might never know it- Shuu was the bastard son of another bastard son. His father was a petty thief when he met his mother and they conceived a child out of wedlock. His mother had decided from the moment of her pregnancy that she did not want him. In fact, she'd intended to kill him the moment he was born. But for everything she was of a cruel, foolish, and selfish woman, she was not a murderer; so when the time came she abandoned the newborn to its biological father. Equal parts a cruel, foolish and selfish coward, it was his father who carried Shuu to the woods in the eightieth district and left him to die in the cold. Regardless, the circumstances of his birth and lineage where not matters with which his toddler mind was concerned. He spent his days crawling about and exploring the world's simplest intricacies within the limited bubble of his childish comprehensibility. He loved colors, preferred warmth to cold, and he enjoyed the mucky sensation of crawling barefoot in mud and feeling it between his toes. The woods were his favorite place to be and seemed to fill up his entire world. More than all those things he adored Gennosuke, the farmer's wife, the farmer, and Ryosuke. However, on one day during the summer of his first year, Shuu came to love something new, he loved it more than any color, temperature, or sensation. It was a sunny June morning when he'd witness battle and death for the first time. Shuu was nine months old, he'd mastered crawling and he could climb up any familiar surface or object in their wooden shack. He'd crawled up to the windowsill and was looking out at Gennosuke, who washed his spare kimono and hung it on a branch of their maple tree. What followed next was a series of several first encounters. It was the child's first time seeing another man besides Gennosuke and the farmer. It was also his first time seeing another bladed tool similar to the one Gennosuke carried around but never used. Shuu knew it was shiny and that he wasn't to touch it -EVER- courteous of the times he'd been popped by the farmer's wife and Gennosuke for violation of that rule. However, he had no idea what it was or what purpose it served. Shuu watched Gennosuke as the stranger approached their home, curious to see what his guardian would do. Gennosuke understood right away what the man's appearance meant. It had been a very peaceful nine months, but alas, the challengers had caught wind of his whereabouts. He could only sigh heavily as he stood up and retrieved his katana; it had been poised up against the maple tree, collecting dust. The stranger did not advance much further and instead waited quietly as Gennosuke secured his katana into his sash and approached the guest himself. The man was thin and dressed in filthy rags that barely covered his torso and crotch and surely did not keep him any manner of warm in the night. His body was covered in scars and there was even the trace of a limp in the man's right step. Likely the result of a permanent injury from a past battle. His had black hair that appeared brownish gray from dirt and filth. His complexion look as if he used his own face to scrub his clothes clean. His facial features seemed smeared with soot. His limbs were thin and hideously hairy, like those of a spider. The man did not look smart or respectable, he wasn't like Gennosuke at all, but when Shuu watched the two men draw their shiny sticks he was amazed by how identical the two were. The bladed weapons gleamed like rods of burning light. And although Shuu sat in the safety of the windowsill, he could feel the ominous danger of the tools the two men possessed. The child simply watched curiously as they exchanged few words before they began their dance. The dance was beautiful and swift. "Gennosuke, Legendary Swordsman of the East! I, Fuiji Ichinore of the Fiftieth Rukon district, have come to take both your head and your title!" The stranger shouts out in a charge as he raised his blade above his head with both hands and sliced downwards. "SHINEH" he cried in the breath of his swing, demanding the death of Gennosuke, who slid gracefully to the side, and evaded the attack. The blade cut through the air with a sharp swish its tip had barely reached the ground when Gennosuke countered it. He swung his sword upwards to the left, and cleaved both the Fuiji's arms off at the elbows. Shuu watched as Fuiji's two arms suddenly fell off and red water spilled wildly from where they had been a while the stranger cried out in pain. Gennosuke instantaneously turned the tip of his blade at the man and tucked his arms in tightly, pulling the sword back just before he sprang forwards and drove it through the Fuiji's chest, silencing him forever. Shuu shuddered back as the stranger went down with a sickly thud. The child sat as still as stone in the windowsill, he waited for Fuiji to stand up but he never did. Instead, Gennosuke sheathed his sword and put his palms together in prayer for the fallen stranger. The curious boy did not waste a moment, he crawled down from the window and wobble-walked out of the shack. In his amusement and glee, he giggled with a smile while swung his right arm downwards. He wanted to express his interest in this mysterious and magical dance, the shiny stick toys, and the red water. Gennosuke, visibly disheartened by the unfortunate turn of events, sat to the side for a moment holding his head in his hands in frustration. Just when he thought he'd escaped his fate as a wandering warrior they'd found him yet again and he would be forced to kill, now for the sake of ensuring Shuu's safety, as he had vowed to. The child, innocent and oblivious, crawled over Fuiji's corpse and began to probe at the lifeless body. He rolled in the blood, making an absolute mess of his cloths and hair as he poked about the stab wound and the arm stumps. It was a wondrous discovery to the child but what it was called and what it meant? He could not know. Gennosuke was distressed when he finally noticed Shuu and what he'd been up to. He bathed Shuu and then carried him to the home of the farmer. But the child had been exposed to battle and it imprinted on him. He wanted more. Demanded it but did not know how to. When he wanted to go outside he banged the door, and when he wanted to sleep he rested his head on a lap. How was he to express his desire to see the dance and the shiny sticks and red water when he knew not what they were called or how they were tangible. He had only one hint, rather one thing he knew to be associated only with his new obsession. So, when Gennosuke brought him to the farmer's house, the farmer was the first person the child saw and Shuu kicked about happily. "SHINEH!" He exclaimed, his very first spoken word, with a laugh and pointed at the farmer. The farmer's wife heard and was abhorred, she raced outside and shouted his name, "SHUU?!" to which the child giggled as he redirected his finger at her, rocked side to side and chanted "SHINEH SHINEH SHINEH!" A long conversation between Gennosuke and the farmer's wife followed while Shuu wobble-ran around the house demanding death of every person he saw. "SHINEH SHINEH SHINEH, SHINEH SHINEH SHINEH!" he sang. That evening Gennosuke held Shuu's hand as they walked back to their shack. "Don't regard the farmer's wife's reaction too badly, Shuu." Gennosuke said to the humming toddler. "Despite her strong feelings, she is happy that you have spoken your first word today." Gennosuke glanced down at Shuu who still hummed and focused to keep pace with his walk. "I suppose she, like I, had hoped your first word would be 'Papa' or something to the like. I don't like comparing you to little Ryosuke when it comes to these matters, but I believe his first word was 'rice'." Shuu simply pointed to a fluttering butterfly and looked up at Gennosuke curiously. "Shineh?" The warrior chuckled, knelled down and pick the boy up, and sat him on his shoulder. "No, no 'shineh', Shuu, not this time." Gennosuke calmly. The child began to kick his legs playfully and rocked side to side again. "Shiiiiineh Shiiiiineh!" he chimed all the way home. That was the last Gennosuke spoke of the topic until hours later that same night, as he bathed the child before bed. "The farmer's wife and I seem to have conflicting opinions in regards to your new fixation." Gennosuke said as he scrubbed Shuu's little arms. "She thinks it is far too early for you to be exposed to such things." Gennosuke rinsed the baby off and wrapping him in a white cloth. "But I think we are well beyond the point of 'exposure'. What you witnessed today was the death of a fellow man and for it to have had such a strong impression on you from your tender age..." Gennosuke sighed heavily, dreading the thought and cursing himself for the conclusion at which he'd arrived. He carried the child outside and sat him on the porch of their shack. "This is a sword." Gennosuke said as he displayed his sheathed blade to Shuu. The child gasped with wonder and his expression lit up with joy. "SHINEH!" he shouted, reaching for the blade. "It is one of the many tools we employ hurt and kill when necessary." Gennosuke held the hilt of the sword close to Shuu's hands and the child immediately grabbed in. "I am sorry, Shuu, but I was a foolish man in my youth. I cared for nothing but war and the sword, and so, I now have nothing else." Shuu seemed completely disregardful of the warrior's words, right now his entire world revolved around the shiny stick in front of him. Gennosuke sighed again. "I have nothing else I can offer you, Shuu. I cannot teach you to read or write. I cannot teach you to be a farmer or a merchant. I cannot teach you the etiquette of approaching women when you start to desire them, and you will." He plucked Shuu's forehead lightly. "I cannot teach you what it means to be a good father the day you become one. I have no wealth or riches with which to purchase you a better life. I am a humbled man from a humbled home, so I cannot give you status or nobility." Gennosuke paused, held back the emotions that began to swell within his chest. He reflected over a long life wasted. Squandered on himself until his self grew old and exhausted. Was that the life he had pledged to the child? It made him ashamed, Shuu deserved better and so he would be better now for Shuu's sake. He looked down at the innocent child, steeled nerve and determination. "However, I can give you the sword. When you are ready, I can teach you the way of the warrior and guide you the best I can to lead a life better than the one I have led myself." Gennosuke placed his hand on the boy's head, tussled his damp hair, and smiled. "You are my future and my legacy." Shuu did not understand the words that were spoken to him that evening. In a few years he would forget the moment entirely. But, during that very moment, his feelings were clear. He let go of the sword, looked up at Gennosuke plainly, and mumbled a slur of incoherent gibberish. He then frowned in frustration, for the sounds had not left his mouth as he intended them to and consequently Gennosuke seemed clueless as to the meaning of his sounds and simply brushed them off. Shuu tried again, and yet again his mouth and tongue failed him, "Guaa ha... Da-iki!" he shouted earnestly his agitation manifested through his tone and furrowed eyebrows. Again frustrated that the words sounded so differently from how he'd hear Ryosuke say them and more frustrated yet that Gennosuke's reaction did not match up to that which he'd seen from the farmer and his wife when they heard them. So, Shuu rubbed his eyes and went back to the sword. Gennosuke did not understand the words that were spoken to him that evening. By the next morning he would have forgotten the sequence of sounds entirely. But, during that very moment, Shuu's feelings were clear. The words and feelings he was so eager to convey were true in his heart, although lost sadly through translation. "Papa, daisuki!", Papa, I love you. To Be Continued... ______________________________ WC|2,400 -----
  14. Rash ラシュ

    The Warrior, The Boy, And The Mongrel

    001: PRECIOUS AUTUMN OOC| Post Rating [16+] ----- ____________________ ... THE WARRIOR arrived from the west on the same dirt path frequented by the few enterprising merchants who dared to venture this far into the outermost reaches of Eastern Rukongai. However, unlike the merchants, the warrior traveled bearing no treasures from which he sought to attain worldly fortune. For he, the warrior, had no use or desire for worldly possessions. His only properties were his kimono (blue as the night sky) with undergarments and obi sash as gray as bone ash. And of course his katana. He carried the blade at his hip, fixed within his sash, as was customary. His garments hid well that many scars that marked his body and told the tales of his countless battle, and by association, his countless victories. Alas, the warrior had grown tired of war and conflict, he no longer found himself enthralled by it. No longer did he revel in the thrills of battle and the slaying of his enemies. In victory he found no elation nor glory. Only a sense of discontent laced into his heart with every battle he won. His was the cruelest of fates, cursed to never love again the only thing he knew. The only thing he had known for his entire life. Desolation weighed heavy on the warrior's mortal conscious, thickened with the blood of the countless men he had slain out of reasons too numerous, and now in his senior years, too petty to recall. Pride and honor. Status and glory. Wealth and women. He'd fought and killed for them all but what had he now to show for it? Grayed hair and a title? "Legendary Swordsman of the East" they now hailed him, the challengers. They came from all corners of the East, young and blooming by hundreds like meadow flowers in the spring, all seeking that title for themselves. As for the vagabond warrior, the days of concerning himself with titles had passed and gone. These years he preferred to be addressed by nothing more than his name, "Gennosuke". It was a cold mid-autumn morning, the icy breaths of the approaching winter were howls of wind that blew through the woods of bared trees, chilling earth and bone. Gennosuke had now walked the dirt path for two days since he arrived in District 80 of East Rukongai. In these lawless lands a man was only worth the wits of his blade. There was no place for politics or currency in the eightieth district. War was the policy and the men dealt only in death and blood. District 80 was a savage fiendish land inhabited by demon-men who's only desire was to feed their instinct to kill. And then kill more. "What better place to meet my fate?" the warrior had thought. He found solace in the simplicity of this hellish realm and he could feel it --as true as the cold-- that here in this merciless foreign land was where he would find his destiny. So, he vowed to find the man that would claim his life here in these desolate lands. The prospect of relief teased at the wandering warrior like a woman's seducing whispers, it lured him further along the path that cut into the woods. It was then that he heard it, carried within the whistles of the freezing winds, the wailing of an infant child. Gennosuke paused, believed his senses to have betrayed him, but soon it was curiosity that had the warrior stroking his short hairs of his chin. There was no mistaking that it was the crying of a baby that he heard in the wind. Over the course of his journey Gennosuke only ever deviated off his path to bury the bodies of the men he'd slain. He thought it ironic that he should venture now to find a body rather than leave one. But that irony only piqued his interest further. The warrior advanced cautiously into the woods, the cold wind stirred his hair ever so subtly as he followed the voice of the child to the base of an aged maple tree. The tree's leaves had all wilted and fallen and it is within a bed of it's leaves, red, orange, brown, and yellow, that the infant lies, pale from the cold and wrapped in nothing but a torn and filthy linen. The tree roots appear to cradle the defenseless boy like the firm protective arms of a mother, but even the maple tree cannot keep out the the whipping lashes of the cold swirling winds. Gennosuke knelled before the tree and stared at the crying child, within the shadowy embrace of the tree roots he beheld the infant's stunning vermilion eyes filled with flowing tears. For a moment, the child locked eyes with him and suddenly ceased its crying. The warrior felt something in that very instant, as if his quest had been designed by fate entirely for the purpose of finding this child. The warrior stepped back suddenly, startled by the spiritual interaction as his hand instinctively reached for his blade. But what would he draw it at... parental instinct? The child began to cry again, just as quickly as he'd stopped. Gennosuke, perplexed, looked around the woods nervously. First seeking the baby's parents or guardians, but the hour passed and no one came. So Gennosuke began to seek guidance. Should he leave the child? Surely, the parents would come eventually. The warrior shook his head, he knew the people who abandoned this infant most likely had no intention to return for him. Gennosuke was the child's only hope, if he too abandoned him the boy would freeze to death within a day. The warrior knelled before the boy again and reached for him while he looked up at the maple tree as if seeking its blessing. As he lifted the baby, Gennosuke could feel just how small and fragile the infant was. He couldn't possibly weigh more than the swordman's sandal. Gennosuke nervously held the baby with such awkward delicacy that he almost appeared frightful of the child. But, the baby had stopped it's crying yet again and the warrior took that as a sign he was doing something correctly. He shifted around, while careful of the boy's balance in his hands, and rested his back against the maple tree. Cradling the child within his right arm he poked at and inspected the baby's condition with his left. The child appeared healthy. Had all ten fingers and toes, no breathing complications, and all his senses seemed to work finely. "What is your story, boy?" The warrior asked curiously as the child grabbed his finger tightly and giggled. He expected no answer of course, but it felt good having someone to talk to whom he wasn't forced to kill. "I came to this land in search of the man that would take my life, just as I have taken the lives of the thousands of men who came seeking me." Gennosuke said as he flexed his finger and with it the child's arm. "For as long as I can remember I have always been certain of the outcome of meeting other men. Men come to me, they draw their weapons and thus I, in return, draw mine and I cleave soul from fleshly abode. That has always been the way of things, as sure as the sun does rise I have killed every man to face me." Gennosuke paused, held the boy up in both hands, and stared deep into his red eyes. "Until now. For the first time in years I cannot predict the outcome of our meeting here, child." Gennosuke added sternly, his lips pressed firm together and his brows furrowed inquisitively. "Tell me, are you the man meant to kill me?" Gennosuke asked icily, but the child simply kicked his tiny legs about and drooled at the mouth innocently. The warrior sighed deeply in response and cradled the baby again as a cold wild blew by. He sat at the base of the maple tree patiently in waiting for one hour and then another before he fully accepted that the child was now his to take or to abandon. The wandering swordsman stood up and held the boy close to the warmth of his chest. "A man who offers his life to fate cannot be the one to complain about what it then ordains." Gennosuke states aloud with a nod. "Regardless of what either of us may come to feel of it in the future, it is fate that has bounded us. I have given my life, and you, on this precious Autumn day, have claimed it." Gennosuke looked down at the child and smiled. "We will build our first home here, and it is here we will live until your are strong enough to walk. Then we will move from this treacherous land to wherever your feet take us." In the following weeks Gennosuke built a humble home within the woods just beside the maple tree. Every day he scouted the surrounding area and he found a fresh water lake that ran down from the northern mountains. And, not too far south from their home in the woods lived a rice farmer and his wife with their newborn son. In the morning Gennosuke carried the baby to the farmer's home where the farmer's woman nursed the child in return for the warrior's help with various menial tasks. In the afternoon he took the boy back into the woods and set him to rest within the wooden shack they dubbed their home. The days blended into weeks and soon the weeks into months. The seasons changed but that fateful Autumn day would never be forgotten as long as the child lived on as its namesake. Gennosuke would be reminded of it every time he spoke or heard the child's name, "Mikoto Shuu". To Be Continued... ______________________________ WC|1,660 -----