Anders

Naruto: Black Sun

@Odin

I’ll be applying for this, hopefully my updated ginger fits your needs.

You Can Become a Hero!

That Tasted Purple

Sumire

Personal Dossier

---

_Name

Sasaki Sumire
佐々木 すみれ

_Age

Fifteen years old.

_Origin

Yokohama, Kanegawa Prefecture

_{Physical Description}

A short, light-brown haired, violet-eyed boy, with a smile painted from ear to ear. In detail, he stands roughly at five feet and three inches(160cm) with dirty blonde medium length hair that falls just past his eyebrows. Maybe a little longer, he needs a haircut. His eyes were a piercing blue-purple, likely a byproduct of his perk but nonetheless add to the cheery exterior of the boy. He is dressed in what seems to be restrictive gear with belts and tightening fixtures around his arms, the gear is faded white with black accessories but that’ll change once school starts. His voice, not quite feminine but definitely of a higher more sing-song pitch. He seemed like he’d probably be an idol if not for his perk.

_{Characterization}

Dainty like a flower. Sumire is friendly, well-behaved, and sensitive, his upbringing shines bright through his appearance. He is rarely seen frowning or showing negativity in his expression, instead mustering his feelings and forcing a smile. Deeper into the boys psyche though is a different story however, he is a boy who has known mostly restraint his entire like and deeply wishes to let out. He does not feel protected or sheltered, but instead that he is two dangerous and must always hold himself back in many regards. He doesn’t wish to anger people so he withholds his criticisms, he doesn’t wish to seem unruly so he obeys without question. His parents were both very good people, but the boy does need to stop bottling up his feelings and let them out before he explodes.

_{Personal History}

Born to a florist and a doctor, Sumire had a rather comfortable unpbringing. At an early age he was able to make friends, was given freedom to go out and run amock and enjoyed his time as a rugrat. He often was teased for his name, close friends would however grow fond of it and the teasing would be short-lived. Though as his group’s quirks began to manifest things began to change. His mother Nanami had a quirk that was something akin to pheromones, releasing a strong-sweet smelling substance that attracted the opposite sex. It was believed at first that Sumire’s quirk would be similar as the purple substance began to appear along the boy’s skin. His father Ichigo, the doctor, knew to look further into it, and thankfully so. The viscous substance would then harden into small violet crystals which are toxic in nature, these crystals are capable of breaking into powder and harming anybody nearby who would unfortunately breathe this substance in.

It would take time and practice to prevent the boy from affecting others, Ichigo eventually pulled some strings to have a suit made for him to restrict the substance rather than harness it. It hurt the young Sumire’s ego, that he could not show off his quirk like many of his friends. More than that, he had always wanted to help people like his father did. But with a quirk like his, it’d be quite dangerous for patients. So he devised a new plan, he’d become a her, it was a way he could help people and they would probably help him temper his power to becoming something more usable. He grew apart from his friends for some time after his quirk manifested, however, he knew a few of them aspired to be heroes as well.

He trained, they trained, Sumire even discovered he had a knack for climbing. Academics were something he had always strived to be good at, but physical training was something new and at first- a pain in the ass. But he quickly adjusted, even getting some assistance from Ichigo every once in a while, tending to minor wounds and offering him some healthy advice for working out. He dealt with a lot during these last few years, some bullies with more flashy powers often berated Sumire on his powers were more suited for a villain. He’d dealt with teasing and assholes in the past before because of his name, he held no quarrel with them. With his persistence and hard work, he’d eventually land a spot on Ishin Academy.

_{Character Development & Conceptualization}

Sumire is a ticking time bomb, not that he isn’t a good-natured boy but more so because all of his withheld feelings are going to eventually come rushing out. He is a sponge of emotion that enjoys hearing out others’ problems without even taking the time for his own, and he will need to overcome that. He was conceptualized as a character who is nicer than he is emotionally capable of being, stemming from him looking up to his father’s selflessness. Which in turn makes him think there’s something fundamentally wrong with himself for not being able to just enjoy helping people without reward or praise.

He also has the insecurity of looking the way he does and being named what he is. He is not inherently a trap or anything of that sort, just a boy who takes more after his mother. Nonetheless, he has been harassed throughout his life for these feminine traits and needs to stop caring about others’ view of him. He also needs to find some grounding on what exactly his morals are, he had a great family, and a healthy group of friends, but he has always been more
Of a follower and never really came to the conclusion on what kind of hero he wants to be.

Sumire also wishes to further develop his quirk. Currently he is only capable of controlling small clouds of the crystal powder, manipulating their movement and aiming them towards an enemy target. With patience and practice he would like to, eventually be able to do more with the crystals while in their larger more "raw" form. Perhaps reinforcing his arms or fingertips with the substance, creating structures out of the crystal form, and controlling said crystals en masse?

Abilities & Talents

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_{Quirk Type}

Emitter

_{Quirk Description}

Violent Violet takes the form of a violet liquid that secretes from Sumire‘s body and hardens into a countless small crystals. The crystals alone are not dangerous, however the boy’s body is able detonate these crystals into a poisonous dust and manipulate the purple-blue substance. These fumes are what makes the boy dangerous, as the substance is very similar to the chemical compound hydrogen sulfide and attacks the body’s hemoglobin. Small amounts of the crystalline clouds being inhaled are not fatal, however breathing in Violent Violet at length can cause serious damage to the body or even death.

Entry level skill of this quirk involves small portions of these crystals being dispersed and conducted around at short-range. However with proper training it is believed he'll be able to fire off these crystals in their amethyst form, lay these crystals in various places to detonate after an extended period of time, and even create structures out of this substance. Sumire himself is immune to the toxins created from his body, but after extended use begins to bruise from the locations Violent Violet is used from and eventually large spots of broken blood vessels can be seen. His body is still conditioning itself to the ability, but like a muscle, it must be worked and strengthened for greater use.

_{Other Talents & Attributes}

• Climbing
• Ikebana
• Shūji
• Sewing - Crochet - Crafts
• Singing?

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

I’d like to claim Rider before it’s gone!

Fate/Factitious Paradigm

This will be an interest ploop until I drop a character sheet.

Black Rose Egress [Interest Check]

This seems cool, I’ll offer tentative interest.

Tales of Arcadia - Fantasy, Magic, Monsters, Adventure

@Gobby

I added a skill to Lial, give it a look when you have some time.

Tales of Arcadia - Fantasy, Magic, Monsters, Adventure

Lial

---

It had been seven o’clock in the evening. The shutting of neighborhood doors and low roar of nearby crowds of people broke the silence as Lial made his exit from the local comic shop. The temperature outside was chilly, a breeze, overcast all throughout the day, jacket weather. Which is technically what he was wearing, though the stylized design of his attire catching the interest of social folk as he lightly began to stomp home.

He had little resistance usually. Maybe avoiding the traffic of people, perhaps an accident along the way. But this time it seemed fate had other plans for the melodramatic boy. A blockade of annoying, gossiping, gawkers whom seemed to be staring at something? His sights glanced sidelong to the location of interest. Street formers, magicians to be in fact. A man in an all black suit, and another clad in white, they had style and showmanship that even Lial had to raise a lip to. But this interest would be short-lived, as our character tucked his hands into each according pocket and went on about his way. With some struggle, people don’t like being polite when they’re watching some form of entertainment.

Just a few blocks left. “Wishin’ they’d move their shop closer, s’probably falling on deaf ears.” He asked himself, the slowing pace of his steps as he finally reached the red light where he typically crossed the street. He'd let out a deep breath, a light mist exhuming as he plucked his hands from the pockets and hurry onto the black pavement. However, that same fate from earlier decided that there were new plans for Lial. Before he could blink, a speeding corvette with blaring lights sped right through the red light and-

"Welcome to Arcadia." The feminine voice chimed into his ears, the song humming and soothing the boy as his racing heart slowed. He was nearly killed after all. And now the bright light panned into the rickety riding of a ewe-drawn wagon, and surrounded by strangers. They were all relatively normal looking, he was the one who stood out- actually looked the part in the foreign environment. Soon the small bearded man was jumping off into battle versus your entry level fantasy mob "The Goblin". And then a few other members of the part followed after, one of them even started ranting off about religious nonsense. He wasn't so quick to act, hell, everyone else was jumping into action so watching from the backlines seemed like an effective method. Lial even sifted a hand into his pocket to remove a stick of gum, unwrapping the foil from the mint-green sum to plop it into his mouth.

"Goblins are weak t' fire usually, 'least that's usually how it works. Maybe not, I'm not of much use." He doted, his legs crossing and resting interlocked hands on his lap. Lial chomped happily, the green gum visibly bouncing around his pearly whites as he sidelong gleamed down towards the combat. There were so many questions though, where they were, why they were there, how they got there- they'd have to wait though, he was too bust giving moral support to the team. Raising his fists and cheering half-heartedly Lial would punctuate, loudly, carelessly. "Hold up, I'll play th' bard.. Let m' songs of support uplift ye' or some shit."

Tales of Arcadia - Fantasy, Magic, Monsters, Adventure

My post will be up tonight.

The Skies of Elysia: Airships, Aliens, and Adventure (Closed)

Al'at

Strange. Curious. I Must Know More.

---

Al'at absorbed the scene in, a deep exhale of oxygen releasing from his lungs as the information before him was internally reviewed. These six creatures were foreign to the Zaldean, and oh how he loved things that were foreign. While he was sure that this was no time to start speculating, the current danger was very apparent to the hungry man-boy. How would their blood taste, he wondered? His black velvet covered fingertips traced down to his right hip, lightly making their way to become a tight clasp around the soft handle of his sword. The blade was a dark-tempered metal, shaped into a crux with a ring circumventing its guard. Glee brushed over Al'at for a moment, it had been quite a good while since he'd been able to perform. It was like stretching after a long rest, hell, it was like waking up from a coma surrounded by gifts. Six of them, infact. He flashed a toothy smile and then his legs began to move.

These "Reavers" seemed to be mostly organic, their misshapen bodies a horrible twist of perhaps some aquatic lifeform and an arthropod? This was immediately to the favor of Al'at. His graceful steps brought him to a relatively untouched wooden cart. Relatively, because of an unrecognizable corpse leaned against said cart- a pool of deep crimson soaking the sand below the body. The hot sun would dry it up quickly, but the body would be a fine tank to leech from before engaging the curious little creatures. There were still a lot of people running away or engaging the invading creatures, a small band of five, likely mercenaries of some kind- were putting up most of the fight against them. Though standard bullet-fire didn't seem to do much damage. The hardened sickly blue exoskeletons being stronger than the pew-pew, but all Al'at would need is a small cut, the slightest laceration would be an open gateway to straining the lifeblood from within the Reaver. A plan needed to be devised, but he also needed to be careful- you never know who is watching. His vampiric nature becoming apparent to those around him would paint a big red target on his back, attracting undesirables to track him down and kill him if he isn't killed here.

"Maybe I am the undesirable? Hmm." He hummed in curiosity, distracting himself from the Michael Bay action scene transpiring between the mercs and the Reavers. But now was the time for action, not inner monologues.

He quickly broke from his location, powder brown shooting behind him as his leather boots kicked through sand at breakneck speed. A thin stream of blood trailing from the corpse to his sword would follow behind him, to the untrained eye it would seem to be a very subtle red glow. The blood would slowly begin to coat the edges of the blade, coagulating to extend the edge ever so slightly over time. As he reached melee range of the closest Reaver, his right hand would lash out with his blade to cut down across the creature's forebody. Futile, the armor was thick of course. But a line of the forementioned blood was painted upon the blemish of the Reaver's armor. His left hand continued to orchestrate the blood from the body near the cart- but now his target was marked, and he instead conducted the blood towards the slash on the Reaver's chest. It continued to thicken, the moist sanguine prying and burrowing deep within to create an opening for the sword to enter. Al'at dropped to a roll, then rose back to his feet and sprinted back to cover after this action- the Reaver seemed to take insult from the demonstration and turned away from his former targets aiming now at the white tailcoat of the Zaldean.

"L'thaaaaak! Zhhhshirrrtha!" The Reaver spat and gurgled in anger, firing plasma at the woodpile Al'at hid behind blowing through it forcing him to jump away from the debris. Splinters fired in every direction, and a second Reaver now aimed at the white-garbed man. Attempting to suppress Al'at they continued to fire in his direction, and he simply ducked in cover, his sword in right hand- fingertips orchestrating in the other. And after a few moments his efforts would find success.

Blood would find its way inside the lone Reaver's body, a diagonal slit of exposure revealing ooey-gooey innards beneath. The enemy however did not notice until it was too late, the foreign substance creeping its way into the soft inner body of the invader. They targeting organs of importance, hardening into razor blades and slicing their way through the creature's body. From the outside this was unknowable, the Reaver simply stopped and began to limp around in pain. Al'at leaped from his cover, a small run of blood dripping down his cheek as he took off towards the second Reaver firing on him. As he passed the one he infiltrated, it would fall face-forward to the dust below, a well of blood pooling from its chest before a small amount is lifted up in small globules and fired towards the second reaver to follow Al'at. It splattered upon the creature's face and left shoulder, but this was followed by a barrage of steel coming from the Zaldean's sword. Eight slashes would be afflicted upon the creature, two on it's head, six on the same shoulder. This Reaver however had a little more sense to it, lashing with its superior body strength towards the man with it's gun-arm knocking him away and concussing him. He was a dainty little man-boy after all. He grunted as he fell to the sand below, his sword attempting to form some friction as he slid across the sand.

He'd stop with his back against an iron crate, pale strands knocked from their neat form into his face as he huffed in a pout of exhaustion.

"Aim for the red one! It's armor will be weaker.. I'm going to find a shady corner to recuperate." He humorously announced, breathing heavily after the exclamation. Quickly he raised to his feet once again, he was tired, but something good would come of this no matter what the outcome. Blood continued to trail towards Al'at at a slow rate as he quickly staggered away from the action a block behind the mercenaries. They would be good shields, and distractions. He pulled himself into a small shaded corner, people continued to run by in fear but he was mostly hidden from sight- enough to sate himself. Red vapor slowly flowed inside his nostrils and mouth, sighs of relief were exhumed from him as new life essence entered his body- revitalizing him. He continued on for a few moments, taking his fill but not getting carried away- than turning back to peer back at the scene behind him. The mercenaries listened to him and focused their aim on the bloodstained Reaver, breaking through the weak points on its head and executing it. The leader of the mercs shouting, "Fuckin' got him!" and pushing her subordinates to move forward with a metallic black glove waving forward. The Reaver blood tasted foul, and wasn't particularly rich in life essence either. Al'at would visibly grimace as the last of the drained essence entered his body, puckering and squinting as he pressed his digits into the sand and using his sword to pry himself up once again.

Tales of Arcadia - Fantasy, Magic, Monsters, Adventure

Greyscale Boy

Lial Ebrial

---

Gender: Male

Age: Seventeen

Appearance:

• 125 Lbs
• 5 feet and 5 inches in height.
• Blue Eyes - wears violet contacts.
• Artifical White Hair - black roots.
• Small Framed

Personality:

Lial, or Bel as he prefers to be called is a strange one by no underestimation. He enjoys alternative culture, finding interest in things that stray away from typical social norms and takes pride in making efforts to be an outcast. He’s not unfriendly, though can come across as passive aggressive and tends to dwell on criticism quite negatively. Sensitivity shines strong and he’s not one to deny it, but he can self-improve should the proper guidance come along his path. More often than not, he is writing his thoughts down on paper for afterthough. Bel has some defining social quirks; he draws out his words when pressing emphasis on sarcasm, he will sigh to cut someone off, and he snaps his fingers repeatedly during moments of deduction.

Background:

Born and raised in Dublin, Lial has been a history fanatic since the earliest years of his education. The pasta of so many different countries were rich with grandiose stories of heroes, wars, and adventures that he had so much wished to be a part of. The only thing his childhood self could do to muster these feelings is to portray them. He took up theatre, purchased old literature memorabilia to bring these stories to life, even went to festivals annually to get his fill of the stories of the past.

Reaching his final years before college, Lial has reclused himself and driven a stake into what was left of his social life’s heart. He cosplays on a regular basis, and while he has a bit of notoriety online, he has very little to show for it. When he does decide to leave the comfort of his humble abode, Bel frequents “Samson’s Comics” which is a small hobby store inside the local mall. The individuals who socialize within the store are a little older than Bel, but friendly enough, and typically keep to themselves and their tabletop rpgs.

He has however, in his time being a degenerate, gained sole ground in the arts. He is meticulous when it comes to crafts, making sure every cosplay is of high-quality and refuses to buy pieces premade for him. He’s drawn and sketched multiple plans for these cosplays, designed and casted molds even for weapons. The boy was very passionate about his hobby, if only he could find something to utilize those skills within.

Abilities:

Tailorcraft • The art of weaving clothing through multiple methods using a wide array of threads and tapestries. Lial is skilled at creating clothing, and enjoys the process of doing so. This skill factors into a multitude of Lial’s passions, and he even acquired a small group of th Dublin goth scene’s attention to design dresses for their “Castle Ball”.

Encylopedeia • Lial is a history buff but he has also accumulated a lot of random facts that he personally found interesting in his studies. Rather than study on a subject to further his career, he knows what month of the year Northern Lapwing chicks hatch from their eggs. He does hold some useful information in that warped brain of his too, though. Designs of old technology, old languages, medieval etiquette, all kinds of weird stuff.

Eavesdrop • The Irish boy has unbeknownst to himself gained quite a good listening skill. He may stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd of people, but his keen hearing helps him absorb all the goings on around him.

Relic:

Old Black Boots • A little worse for the wear, these padded soft toe boots seemed relatively intact. They bore no laces, instead a compact design that raised to just below the boy’s calves and fit snug against his skin. On the inside was a fairly worn down soft fabric that prevented them from sticking to skin when being snuggled on. One final thing of note, there’s a small compartment on each outwards side of the ankle for what appears to be a boot knife. There was no knife there, but still pretty nifty if you ever acquired one.