Name: Yorick Taiko
Age: 67, looks around 17-18 in human form
Gender: Male
Race: Gashadokuro
Appearance: Yorick is a rather plain-looking young man, with light brown hair and lighter brownish-orange eyes that are often closed or half closed. He has deep bags under his eyes, and always looks like he's sort of angry or ridiculously tired. He's not very tall, standing at around 5'5" and has a rather thin frame for someone his age. He looks quite frail in actuality, like if you poked him he'd fall apart. He wears two bracelets on his wrists, both made of wood and both having a tag hanging from the bottom of it. No matter where he goes, Yorick never takes off his checker patterned black and white scarf.

Personality: As one could judge by Yorick's terrible posture and horrid eyebags, he's a very tired individual. It seems like he can never really get enough sleep, and will often fall asleep during conversations, lectures, and other awkward periods of time. This isn't to say that he can't pay attention, when he is actually awake he's surprisingly attentive. He has a great memory for faces and voices and tends to not forget people that do him a favor or hinder him in some fashion. This leads to him holding grudges for a comedically long time.

There are ways to win back his good favor if you've slighted him, or to just grab his attention very quickly in general. And the best one? Food. Yorick loves food more than he does sleep and seems to have a void for a stomach. Anyone that offers him food immediately becomes one of his favorite people and he will seek to return the favor at some point in the future. He is, at times, comedically deadpan and often doesn't express energy in any way shape or form.

Abilities: Skeleton Physiology: Yorick is a Gashadokuro, and as such, has a form that is quite literally a giant hungry skeleton. To maintain a physical form, Yorick uses the bracelets on his wrists. But when both are removed he is able to show his true self. This self is massive and spews mist from the void in it's ribs, mouth, eyes, and pelvis.

Limb Summoning: While the bracelets that he wears limit him from taking his full form or allowing his form to accidentally slip from his body, he can still summon portions of his actual body to aid him in battle that seemingly form from the purple mist he spews in his full form. He can summon his rib cage which functions as a protective barrier around him and others close to him for protection. When his rib cage isn't active, he can also summon an arm at a time to help him do some damage from a reasonably long distance. Unfortunately, the limits on him do keep his limbs from being as durable as they normally would be, allowing them to be destroyed far easier. He also isn't good at maintaining them, due to the magic of the tags fighting against him. So his limbs and pieces often don't stay out for longer than a few minutes.

Ear Ringing: While this isn't a very strong ability, nor is it a very practical one, when Yorick wants to target someone in particular he stares at them and makes their ears ring. This doesn't work on most powered humans or youkai, and pretty much only works in a guaranteed fashion on regular old humans.

Bottomless Stomach: Yorick can eat a lot and still be hungry for more. And unfortunately, as he's begun to realize, the more he eats the more hungry he becomes. However, he's also not particularly picky and will eat a lot of things which most would consider repulsive. Of course, he has his limits, but he's far beyond the human sense of edibility. He can also store things in his stomach and regurgitate them, which he only particularly does with things he thinks are very important, because the sensation is, quote, "unpleasant", unquote.

Skills: Xylophone Player

Immaculate Memory: Yorick has a quite good memory, and can remember tons of tiny details. He also remembers things said to him as he's asleep.

Great Facial and Vocal Recognition

Regurgitation: Yorick can upchuck pretty much anything he swallows with ease, he just doesn't quite enjoy the feeling so he prefers to not do it.

Equipment: Scarf, bracelets, various food items, back-up tags.

Brief Backstory: It was rather apparent to Yorick's parents from his birth that he would require limiting to fully grasp the range of his power. Around the age of five he was bound with the help of an onmyouji in the Imaginary District with two arm bangles. After that, he was enrolled into a local school to help him build relationships and get used to functioning on a scehdule, even if it would cause him to be so tired.

As he grew older, he grew more and more accustomed to the limiters that he wore to the point where he could actually display his abilities. Upon finding this out, his father nudged him towards joining the Miura Youth Organization. Yorick didn't particularly agree with this, but quickly decided to join up after his father forcibly pushed him out of their home with a large skeletal finger.

Name: Styx (Ken Sato)

Age: Nineteen (Seventeen upon death)

Gender: Male

Race: Ankou

Personality: A man of many words destined to be heard, albeit he isn't the one who is doing the talking per se, that still doesn't let the undead's mind run amok. With a threshold for insanity and hardship, Styx never fails to provide a rational voice, especially in disputes. Though he can lose himself to his temper, escorting soul after soul kind of whittle's at ones mind over time. Let it be known that he is by no means an altruist. Though you may have joined the organization, he's the one to bring down judgement based upon the facts alone. One apparent inhibition is his tie, or rather lack thereof to his past. He doesn't feel incomplete without knowing his origins, but it still gnaws at his neck to no end. When it comes to helping spirits beyond, he shows an uncharacteristically compassionate side, his way of honoring those who are, in a sense, free.

Abilities:

• 21 Grams - Styx is able to tell the moral alignment of a soul, good and devilish intentions entailed. It's not a lie-detector to be precise, but he can get a fair grasp on whether somebody is going to go down a grim path.
• Deathbound - Since the components comprising Styx's soul are no longer here, the only remaining thing on the physical plane is a body with a perfectly pristine conscience. Essentially Styx cannot die, but that's not to say he's invincible. He still experiences pain like every normal individual- (normal being a term painfully misconstrued and all-encompassing at this juncture), but say if his body was to be eviscerated into millions of little shreds, they would gather sluggishly over an extended period of time.
• Salvation - This ties directly with his purpose as an Ankou. Styx is able to escort consciousnesses with... expired vessels to the world beyond through incantations, and should the issue arise, brute force. Only applicable when a being's hourglass has run out of sand.
• Fiend Friend - Styx can call upon residual life essence and fuse them into a temporary familiar. Since the summon is an amalgamation of multiple beings, its appearance is random and usually grotesque. However the familiar itself doesn't share any of the abilities of its long-passed donors, it can still give somebody a hard time and serve as a viable meat puppet.
• Shadow Haze = Variation - Styx can distort his shape and move as a cloud of dark mist. He can't attack or scale any buildings in this state, but is quite stealthy and can move through shadow practically unnoticed.

Skills:

• Scythe Wielding - What henchman of Big Daddy Death himself would be complete without a complimentary scythe? The weapon is more iconic than it is useful, since it is only utilized as a last resort when verbal chants fall short. Still, since Styx is a relatively veteran Ankou, he's had enough encounters to learn how to defend himself.
• Straight Man - In a district chock full of insanity this actually is a legitimate skill, despite how painfully true it may be. Hell, the playwright didn't even make this stock character crucial enough. Commonly as the sole voice of reason, Styx is constantly tempted to let his temper take over, but retains an aplomb demeanor as best as he can.
• Tolerance - Sending souls to the world beyond isn't as all cut out as it is made to be. Sometimes, people still have lingering ties or wishes, but Styx has to maintain a threshold and leave them unfulfilled regardless. When morale is in low reserves, Styx is the unsung hero when it comes to bringing it back up.
• Sans Sustenance - Styx isn't bound by the necessity for self-sustaining resources. He doesn't need to eat, but he can still do so and promptly expel waste.

Equipment:

• Scythe - Swish, swish, slice. Can be summoned from any part of his body.
• Mizar and Alcor - His two faithful companions. Mizar and Alcor are orbs of light pigmented blue and red respectively who serve as his assistants. Additionally, Styx also speaks vicariously through one of the two, since his tongue is reserved solely for his job. It's believed that the two companions are souls relegated to serving Styx, but since they too have no prior memories, they hold no qualms with their positions. The two are stupendously upbeat and have the same level of speech as children

Backstory:
Ken Sato died holding his girlfriend's hand... Wait, no, that wasn't it. He died clutching the iron bar sticking through his chest- crap, that doesn't sound right either. Oh yeah, he spent his final moments digging his fingers into the blood-stained January snow! That was i- wait, damn, not that one either.

If it isn't already apparent, Styx has absolutely no recollection of his life before he became an Ankou. Ken Sato died a youth who had accomplished absolutely nothing in life and thus didn't leave a single niche in the world's history. But that's not uncommon or anything, right? The phenomenon known as Ankou occurs primarily during New Year's Day. People are celebrating, spending time with loved ones, rejoicing in yet another 365 days of being human. Jubilation is at an all-time high. And we all know with jubilation comes irrational choices, like setting out on the road whilst under the influence of alcohol, leaving your job early without going through all of the wrap-up procedures, taking our other half to a construction site littered with KEEP OUT signs. Y'know, stupid stuff like that made by stupid people. And sometimes people kick the can.

The Ankou is- or rather, are of a rather elusive variety, both in spirit and history. The phenomenon itself revolves around the first death of the year, which is why New Year's Day is essentially the prime time for harvesting. Some believe that the original Ankou was the first child of Adam and Eve, others believe that he was a prince who challenged death himself, and as a consequence of losing was cursed to roam the earth as a ghoul forever. But in all actuality, the predominant policy is the one pertaining to deaths, except that it is on a regional basis, so there are actually multiple Ankou collecting consciousnesses. Gotta maximize productivity, right? The Ankou have unanimously agreed that it was Death who gave them the purpose of assisting those to whatever lies beyond the veil. Yet they do not know for sure who presides over them, or if a sole entity even exists to boot. The only truth the Ankou know is the integrated drive to help consciousnesses pass on.

One is an Ankou for exactly a year's time, afterwards they are granted the privilege of finally passing on themselves. But there's a little addendum that isn't public knowledge. It's voluntary. Though this choice only resonates with the minority, if an Ankou still wishes to continue operations as self-appointed henchman of Death then it may do so until the next year, where it will be presented with the same offer.

Styx is of the minority, and a two term Ankou at that. Though the Ankou serve as the middle ground between people and death, they haven't the slightest clue where they dismiss souls to. And the prospect of potentially winding up in eternal purgatory didn't sound to alluring to him. Even though he lacked a soul he felt plenty alive in his current state, so why ruin a perfectly content life?

And then came the Imaginary District. Holee sheet. Ever tried to put a Tengu to rest? Ever tried to put a Tengu to rest without its consciousness still beating the daylights out of you? No? Well, good. It's not exactly a fulfilling experience. Styx was the lucky Ankou to be transferred to the Imaginary District, and with his new surroundings came a myriad of even newer variables. So not only does he have to pacify multi-faceted human souls, but also those of the many diversified yokai dwelling within the region. You know Burabura's? Those things actually expire at some point! Ever tried listening to the last wishes of a lantern? No? Well, good.

Recently Styx has joined the scant numbers of the Miura Youth Organization, and with his entrance came a whole slew of additional duties. He isn't exactly a part time worker, but he is known to prioritize the purpose of his existence. Juggling the two professions has honed his foresight, so the Ankou sets out his agenda in advance. Which... is kinda hard when it comes to collecting souls.

Themesongs

Yongzheng Huang

---

Age
23, 167, or 399, depending on frame of reference.

Gender
Male

Race/Species
Jiangshi

Profession
I.D.P.D, Detective


The centuries have been kind to him, and he is gifted with the same body he had three days after his sudden death, unlike many other less-aware undead whose bodies and minds have rotten away. This is not to say, however, that he doesn't look dead. His face is masked by a deathly palor as is expected of the undead, and the blood pooled beneath his eyes makes him appear as though he hasn't slept in years (which he hasn't).

At 6'2", he is a fairly tall man of Han Chinese heritage, with the typical short and straight black hair. His irises are a deep chestnut, surrounded by scleras of red and yellow. Sunken cheeks highlight sharp and high cheekbones, and his chin appears so sharp that one might imagine they could impale a man upon it, were it not for the thin full beard standing in the way. He appears to be very thin for his height, and generally weighs approximately 165 pounds, though this fluctuates somewhat depending on his vitality at that moment.

He has only very rarely changed his outfits throughout the century and a half since his reanimation, as he has a significant attachment to the garments that he grew up with and died in. As a Ming police captain, he wears a dark grey yuanlingshan, trimmed in yellow and emblazoned with a Mandarin Square prominently featuring a bear upon a field of flowers. Sitting atop his head is a very, very old wushamao, with yellow lace bordering the very bottom of the hat.

One might note that his body doesn't move much, which he publicly blamed on severe early-onset arthritis before moving to the Imaginary District. One might also note that when in a hurry, his body still doesn't move much despite him bouncing from place to place like a man riding a rather uncooperative pogo stick. The truth of the matter is that he was merely unlucky enough to have stopped decomposing in the middle of the onset of rigor mortis.

His fingertips are tipped in short yet extremely sharp and clawlike nails.



Yongzheng is a relatively kind man with an unquenchable thirst for justice. His skills of observation and tracking have served him well throughout the years, and he can be counted on to remember any details that he has observed, smelled, or heard. He is an extremely reliable man, and very rarely forgets a promise - though he is realistic and avoids making promises that he cannot keep. He values his friends, family, and the government greatly, as he was raised in an era in which rulers were considered to have been placed there by the gods themselves. He is respectful toward those he believes to have a rightfully earned position above him, and does not actively seek to improve his own stature. He refuses to talk down to those he believes to be below himself, as they deserve his respect and support just as much as he deserves theirs.

That said, when speaking to those he considers his equals, he tends to be much more gruff and rough around the edges, as he allows his real personality to shine through. He is somewhat grumpy because of his inability to move as well as others and the constant pain of death, but beyond that, he is very well adjusted.

As a walking corpse, he is effectively incapable of feeling fear, save for the fears of failure and of collateral damage in the line of duty. He is calm and collected most of the time, but is easily irritated and almost as quick to anger.

He utterly despises thieves, muggers, burglars, bankers, brigands, and all other manners of violent criminals. He dislikes delinquents, but feels that it is his duty to set them straight.

His favorite food is justice the Italian style calzone, with crab legs coming in a close second. It makes him feel full like it would were he still entirely human, but it doesn't satisfy his hunger for sustenance of a more ethereal variety.

He dislikes being asked about his past and his experiences as a Jiangshi, and works himself to the bone to try to make up for his own crimes as a leech and abomination.



Immortality and Regeneration:
He's already died once. He's not about to do it again. What would be mortal wounds for those of lesser fortitudes are but mere annoyances for him, though it is very possible to cripple him for some time before his body returns to its unnatural (and whole) state.

That being said, he may be permanently returned to death by having a stake made of the wood of a peach tree driven to his heart, being forced to ingest the blood of a black dog, having his breath stolen by another, or being burnt to ashes.

Objects of Chinese superstitious significance make him extraordinarily uncomfortable, as do mirrors (which he attributes to the shock of seeing his own corpse). Direct sunlight halts his regeneration and permits him to decay.

Undead Strength:
His muscles might be degraded, but they are imbued with the energy of both an excess of life and unlife. Under ordinary circumstances, his strength is merely slightly elevated by his status as an undead being, but immediately after gorging himself upon a massive feast of life energy, his strength is such that he may rip light posts, telephone poles, and some less well grounded trees out of the ground.

When he fails to feed, his strength slowly dwindles. As he found during his wandering after his reanimation, he is almost weaker than a common housecat when outside the presence of living humans for too long.

Undead Speed:
He may have a lot of time on his hands (claws?), but that doesn't mean he doesn't have places to be, sights to see, and criminal scum to catch. While his muscles are slow to act and generally very stiff, he leaps from point to point with the ease provided by a century and a half's worth of practice. Each bounce sends his planklike body flying a few meters, and after heavy feeding, this increases dramatically.

Energy Leeching:
His own vitality has a baseline - that of undeath, which alone isn't terribly great. That said, he is hungry constantly, and when well nourished, he feels almost as good as he did in life.

He does not need to touch his victims to steal their energy, but it very much helps. Much of his nourishment that brings him to his usual daily levels comes from passively draining miniscule amounts of energy from every person in the area - which, in this case, is the entirety of the Imaginary District. He prides himself on being one of the many driving forces behind the town's thriving coffee industry because of this.

Touching a living humanlike victim permits him to very rapidly drain their life energy for his own needs, but there are some limits in place. It is much easier to actively drain energy from a willing participant, and only as much as they are willing to give. Likewise, unwilling victims cannot easily be actively drained without genuine malicious intent on his part.

He cannot leech energy from creatures that did not originate from the material plane, such as angels, demons, and the like, as their life energy is incompatible with his own - and, as it should go without saying, he cannot leech life from the undead.

Undead Senses:
His body is coarsely tuned to hunt down the living for the purposes of draining their energy.

He is drawn towards the heat of living creatures, and can smell the species, age, health, and characteristics of most creatures simply by being in their immediate vicinity, assuming they're breathing. Lingering breath in the air helps him track others, and scents upon clothing and skin may draw him in as well, but not quite as well as active breathing. His vision is much less keen than it was during life, however, largely thanks to three days of low grade decay having blurred his eyes. His hearing is average.


Investigation: A police captain in the Ministry of Justice under the Ming Dynasty in life, and a police officer in many cities and countries in death, his investigative skills are polished to a fine sheen. Solving mysteries is one of the greatest pleasures he can experience as a dead man, eclipsed only by the satisfaction of bringing criminal scum to justice.

Paperwork: Oh god, the paperwork. Every day was a nightmare of fine penmanship and report filing in life, and as such, he can concisely fill out reports that are easily understood by almost any employer. The invention of the Personal Computer only made this easier, and these days, he carries a laptop with him for the sole purpose of efficiently filing police reports. His immortal (and thus untrimmable) fingernails make using a touchscreen tablet impossible, unfortunately.

Art: Though extremely slow from the muscular degradation, his hand is steady. Working as a sketch artist has refined his hand somewhat, and he draws portraits and landscapes with ease, provided he has seen them or heard their description. Sadly, he isn't creative enough to draw purely from imagination.

Laundry: He is the king of keeping his clothing clean. It is extremely difficult for him to change outfits, and as such, it is important for every outfit to be kept immaculate. Stains, wrinkles, and the like disappear from him every time he enters a bathroom, and his methods for doing this are a very closely kept secret - even more secret than his status as a walking corpse had been previously.

Steady Aim: One of the few positives of living with rigor mortis - his aim is incredibly stable, and provided enough time to draw his pistol, he cannot miss his target unless the weapon itself or the wind throws the shot off course. Combined with his strength as an undead abomination, recoil doesn't seem to have any effect on him whatsoever, so long as he wields a reasonable weapon (and not, say, a .500 revolver).

Trilingual: He grew up speaking Mandarin Chinese in the early 17th century, and learned to fluently speak the English and Italian of the time during his regular encounters with foreigners. His accent is understandable, if unusual and clearly very old.



One 8-inch Colt Python in blued steel - the weapon of choice for an undead detective.
One Blackjack - head of powdered lead coated in soft and durable leather, mounted on a spring.
One Extendable Baton.
Four pairs of Handcuffs.
Ziptie cuffs. Lots of them.
One police interceptor.
A badge.
A laptop.



Yongzheng was born in Nanjing in 1617 to a relatively well-off merchant family. His parents were as wealthy as could be expected, and often traded what they considered worthless baubles to foreign visitors for hefty prices, garnering a reputation as shrewd salesmen in the process. Their wealth permitted them to hire a tutor for Yongzheng during much of his childhood, and though he wasn't the best student, he certainly wasn't the worst. He paid attention, unlike some other boys his age and status - particularly to philosophy, politics, and history, much to his parents' chagrin. Each successive year showed them more that he was not cut out to be a trader like they were, and they considered giving up on his education. His tutor, however, suggested to them that he might be cut out for a position as a public official, and they grumpily accepted that he would have a respectable future in that area.

Long lessons on mathematics, history, the known sciences, art, literature, and Confucius's Four Books and Five Classics filled his days until he turned seventeen, when he took the Imperial Exam, which he passed with flying colors. Dull flying colors, that is - his scores were good, but not good enough for a particularly high office, and he was put in the employ of the Ministry of Justice.

For six years, his work as a member of the police force gained him a reputation as a very good man to know, and as a very bad man to cross. Not because he was a particularly violent or angry person, but because he could be counted on to know everybody's business whether they had told him or not, which made it very, very easy for him to arrest most people in the community should he feel that he had been given just cause.

Sadly, he perished in the line of duty at the age of Twenty-Three in 1640, shortly before the fall of the Ming Dynasty. During an investigation of a series of murders, a great storm struck, and the serial murderer who had been regularly sending him death threats (which he ignored as a matter of policy) came to him as he walked his beat. His body was never found.

In 1849, his heart started beating again, and he found himself buried beneath several feet of mud and gravel beneath the Yangtze River. Thinking he had just been stabbed and buried alive, he panicked, and found himself miraculously able to swim through the dirt and water to the riverbanks - where he eventually learned of how much time had passed since his untimely death. He knew not why he had returned, but assumed it to have something to do with his unquenched thirst for justice. In reality, though, it was caused by an excess of good will toward him from his community in conjunction with a violent death and unfinished business - much more complicated and difficult to replicate.

After spending years as a hobo and traveler, he eventually learned the new order of the world and what had happened to his beloved country. Forging an identity permitted him to retake the Imperial Exam, which he passed with similar results to his first attempt over two hundred years prior, allowing him back into the police force to fight against the growing threat of the Opium trade.

Since his awakening, he has traveled throughout much of Europe, China, and the Americas, periodically moving from country to country every time his peers began to question his lack of aging. During his travels, he encountered others like himself, as well as a number of other abnormal creatures - and, indeed, he was misidentified as a vampire no fewer than three times, which resulted in him taking a wooden stake through the heart twice, and a bullet to the head once. Thankfully, the stakes were made of oak and birch respectively - and with each 'death', he arose once more several days later, albeit with a splitting headache and a maddening hunger that nearly drove him to kill the first person who came across him and tried to help.

More recently, he has moved to the Imaginary District, where he immediately joined the Police Department. His reasoning was that with a great number of supernatural beings in the city, the life energy present would be so great that he would never find himself hungry again - and, thus, he could continue his work without the greatest drawback of being a walking corpse - the tendency to go mad with hunger and lose control when deprived of energy.