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+--- Thread: Joining as Yamato (/showthread.php?tid=13877)
Joining as Yamato - Yamato - 04-08-2009
[SIZE="1"]Name: Yamato
Age: 23
Race: Drak’thari/Drak’tharian (they are the same race, just either name can be used)
Sex: Male
Starting Planet: Mercy
Profession: Assassin
Fighting Style: A man of many contradictions, his fighting style is subject to change. He tends to rush in instinctively, yet during the fight realise he needs to take a more calculated approach; all in all he is a more intellectual fighter.
Short Bio: Within the vast regions of space, there was a planet by the name Drak’thar. The planet was still ruled by a monarch – the king Xion - and was infamous for its’ cruel way of training their warriors’, as they were trained from the age of six. The father of the child would usually be the trainer, and if he did not train his son well enough, the family would forever be cast in shame, because that was the way of the Drak’tharian people. This custom was even more brutal for the nobles, who could be trained from as early as the age of two. However, as always...the experience differed depending on the family.
Unfortunately, the pressure on the young warriors finally got the better of them. There was a large family on Drak’thar that had decided to train all their sons together at the same time. However, the teachers pushed them too hard, and at the age of seventeen, they snapped and fought against their teachers - and won. They immediately fled from their village, but they were chased the second their feet touched the ground outside the town. The shame of having a weak child, one which could not stand the pressure, was devastating for a Drak’thari parent, so they wished to bring back the children in order to toughen them up and then continue training, seeing as how they had failed.
However, it seemed the fugitive teenagers had hardly been failed in their training, as they defeated most of the fighters sent after them, and hid from the ones they couldn’t. It seemed as if there was no hope to cure the stain upon the Drak’tharian culture, until finally came the birth of Cerion and Yamato.
They were cousins, born into a noble family, just mere hours away from each other. They were also trained in a group, by both of their fathers in shifts. As they grew older and hit the eighteen year old marker, they were given an assignment to show how much they had grown. The village still hadn’t forgotten how they lost a handful of fighters, which even eventually proved quite capable, so they sent the cousins to capture the teenage fugitives, which in the meantime had grown older. No-one actually knew for sure where they resided, but the fathers of Yamato and Cerion did not care. They wanted the honour of the catch to be their sons’, and their family’s.
And so Yamato set out on his journey, along with his cousin Cerion. They travelled between many towns and cities, until eventually they found one glimmer of hope. After several months of searching, they finally found a man who said he knew the location of the fugitives, and following his directions; they came to a derelict building far out in the wastes, most probably from a dead generation of Drak’thari history. Yamato smiled at his cousin, and saw he received the same gesture as a reply, and so they smashed open the door and charged in. About to reveal their intentions, they were dumbstruck by the man in front of them; Drake, the nephew of Drak’thar’s King. Hesitating, Yamato decided it would be better to hear out Drake...
The discussion didn’t last long, and by Yamato had made his mind up, and with a little peruasion, so had Cerion. They would report the fugitives as untraceable, and share in the punishment of the king’s nephew; Exile from their home planet. Together the three men left, in search of a new life in the far regions of space...but all wouldn’t go as intended. The two cousins were separated from Drake by a cosmic current, throwing them off in a different direction...
With the ships they had been supplied with, escaping this pull would be impossible, so they allowed it to take them wherever it may. Fate would have it; they landed on a planet which was not totally unfamiliar. On Drak’thar, there were several desert regions that were uninhabitable by their people...the people on the planet of Mercy however, had managed to adapt, and now 2 years later, so had the cousins as they settled down in one of Mercy’s many domes, the sphere of darkness at Illium’s Shame.
General Description: Yamato stands about about 5’11, well excluding his wild black hair, which raises his height to way over 6 ft. His long black hair seems to permanently stand up in all directions, yet always appearing more groomed than disordered, like its own style. His eyes are a deep blue, much like the set his father used to sport.
In terms of clothes, he generally wears black clothing; after all it is his favourite colour. His most common outfit, and the one he wears for missions has a gold rim, while no cloth covers his arms from his elbows to just below his shoulder, with a scarf covering his neck.
Starting Abilities: Elemental Ki – Fire; Psychokinesis
Stats: Strength: 25%
Focus: 30%
Endurance: 15%
Agility: 30%
Trait: Defiant
Role-play Sample: Hjate's collosal axe looked as though it was effortlessly stopped by Cerion's thin blade in fact, it seemed like the head of the axe slid off the sword. "What the hell did you just do!?" Hjate grunted as a suprised look that had quickly spread across his face, suddenly became a one of shock. Hjate's massive body crushed the life out of five of his own soldiers as Cerion's kick flung him backwards. Pushing himself up onto one knee as he slid across the dirt, Hjate shot his eyes towards the young Drak'tharian prince, his gaze full of hatred. "Hmph, as they say...even a dog can learn new tricks, filthy mongrel". As he finished whispering the last part of the sentence, he looked around at elite platoons that surrounded him. Almost all of the Hrithmian elites were at his side. "ATTACK!" roared the prince, as the mindless soldiers swarmed towards Cerion.
Hjate could now hardly see what had happened to the other prince, as dust and the figures of his army blocked his vision. Pushing his hands against his knee, he pulled the rest of his huge frame upwards and as he did, noticed his soldiers bodies flying left and right. He couldn't see Cerion, that was for sure...but he could definitely hear him. Hjate, easily tauned and full of anger, exploded with rage at Cerions comment, darting into the air and smashing the prince to the ground. He wasn't finished there though, immediately crashing to the ground, slamming his knee into Cerion's back "I'm going to enjoy dragging you back home, 'prince'. I have an entire nation waiting to spit on your wretched being". Hjate grinned as he lifted his knee out of the dent it had made in Cerions back, before moving his hand towards the man's head. "What do you say, little 'prince'? Do you want to cry for your cousin? Then go ahead! cry!" Hjate grasped Cerion's hair, and ripped the prince's figure from the ground. "An Idiot? why you..."
The next thing he knew, he was sailing through the air. "What the hell? who fires ki from their mouth!?" As the momentum ran out, and his body began to fall back towards the ground, he heard the repulsive sound of the Drak'tharian king's voice, as his army bombarded his soldiers with projectiles. By the time he landed on the ground, he was almost sick from hearing Cerion and his fathers chat. "You're not the only one who's learnt a few new tricks since last time, pitiful Drak'thari prince!" Hjate screamed, before slamming both of his palms into the ground below him. Tremors similar to those that happened before an Earthquake started to appear all around the battlefield, until a giant wall of incredible mass erupted from the ground, seperating the Drak'tharian prince from his army. Ignoring Cerion's comment, Hjate appeared behind him, sending a thunderous fist into the back of his head and knocking him towards his army. He did nothing then, just watched, surely the sheer mass of numbers would overwhelm him eventually...or so he thought.
A couple of minutes passed, a normal soldier would have been crushed in seconds. This man was strong, and although he'd never admit it...Hjate knew that. As the soldiers that encircled Cerion drew their weapons, Hjate appeared above, launching his left fist down towards the prince. He dodged it. "I guess that puny build him and his cousin share serves some purpose...". Speaking of that figure, it appeared to the side of Hjate, launching it's fist towards him. Quickly turning, Hjate grabbed Cerion's fist with his own. "Not bad princey". Cerion smiled, as his other hand lowered his sword towards Hjate's face. "Not this time!" Hjate grabbed Cerion's sword arm by the hand, and smashed his head into Cerions, sending him spiralling backwards. "You really are weak, stupid prince!" Hjate roared as he charged towards the Drak'tharian prince, only to have him dissapear infront of him. "You thought a blow that weak would keep my dazed? don't underestimate me Hjate" Cerion stated simply, as the beam he had just released collided into Hjates back, sending him face first into the dirt.
"Kill him!" shouted one of the commanding officers, as the army swarmed past Hjate's body, closing the distance between them and Cerion every second.
((This post is pulled from one of my last roleplays, hopefully that is good enough?))[/SIZE]
Joining as Yamato - Android-18 - 04-08-2009
Looks good, as I told your friend, take a look at the sticky thread in the Mercy forum so you know what Mercy is like and such.
I'll get you up and activated right away.