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 Vermilion Sin

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Fated Paragon : Necessary Pariah

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Public#1PostSubject: Vermilion Sin   Sun Sep 17, 2017 6:32 am

Name: Kazura Kanahashi
Species: Youkajin
Age: 36
Faction: N/A
Alignment: Pariah/Evil
Appearance:
 

Appearance II:
 

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Strengths
As a Youkajin, there appears to be no discovered ceiling as to the amount of power, and physical might, that can be achieved. With enough time, and continued growth, they can achieve astounding heights. A voracious appetite for achieving greatness; determination beyond any conceivable scope. Seedy, underhanded, and schemingly natural in execution of many things. His ability to lie, make false promises, and secure the trust of others is astoundingly absurd. Asserting dominance through fear, and exploiting fear in general. His methodology of psychologically torturing his victims into submission.

Weaknesses
Susceptible to physical damage via individuals of similar strength, psychological trauma that can be exploited, and his agonizing lust for greater power. A lust, and greed, so great, he’ll put himself in precarious situations that can backfire and leave him vulnerable. He’ll make false promises, and offer seats of power in his supposed vast empire; but he’ll quickly turn the tides and betray any, as he was betrayed in times of yore, if only to keep anything he’s gained to himself. He does not share the spoils of war, and work. And that, in and of itself, is dangerous in the face of villainous threats that happen to be every bit as capable, powerful, or influential, as he may be. As well, he suffers from core racial behavioral traits; the desire to grow more powerful through battle.

Important: Upon quasi-relocation to this variant of the Milky Way, the reaction of inter-realm/dimensional location takes a vast toll upon the individual. The vast assortment of abilities, and greater extent of their power, being limited. Essentially trapped beneath a myriad of glass ceilings, it will be some time before they regain full functionality and full capacity to use their abilities to their utmost limits.

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Equipment
A single katana by the name of Onikussaiga.
Unique Trait: Crafted of Kadamatchin, the blade is absurdly sturdy, yet lightweight. Capable of cleaving through many a material via the honed edge, but also due to the powerful might of the one wielding it.

The Abyssal Plague; a weapon comprised of half scythe, and half trident.
Unique Trait: Once separate weapons, gifts from an Anti-God Kazura had defeated in combat, he found a means to forge them into a single, devastating weapon. Both the prongs of the trident, and the blade of the scythe rend open wounds and leave a miasmic residue that devours and rots the flesh of wounded victims.

The Bangles Of Divine Reach: Armlets that act as a medium for using the art of kinesis. Manipulating objects via force of motion.

The Ring of Planar Command: A solitary ring upon finger that allows the wearer to summon/conjure creatures to obey from a myriad of dimensional realms. Follows the laws of conservation. Summon hundreds of diminutive, weak, creatures, or summon one extraordinarily powerful creature. The more creatures summoned, the more evenly distributed the power between them.


Powers
Bukujutsu (Self-Flight), Ki Manipulation (Energy User), Heightened Sensory (Race-Related), Enhanced Physical Capacities (Might, Speed/Reflexes, Endurance/Stamina), Accelerated Healing Factor, Excellent Combat Prowess, Transformations.

History

History speaks of a powerful warrior race who held limitless potential, dormant within their bodily form. A race of individuals who could attain power the likes of which could only be considered Godly in the eyes of mortal man.

This race, albeit powerful, fell prey to an empire of tyranny and trade. An empire lead by a sadistic emperor who pinned them beneath his tyrannical thumb and made a mockery of them at every possible chance. They were abused, used as tools and pawns to achieve his just desires. In time, though, a great fear grew within this lord that their power, and capacity to grow, would one day overcome his own rigid, unflinching, might. That one day a chosen amongst them would reach heights beyond his own and topple his empire; ruin him.

He saw fit to purge the race, and in a decisive moment, he chose to lay waste to their planet, and them as well.

Not all perished, though, and a lingering collective of the race managed to establish a colony upon a sister planet. The steady growth of this colony began and, in time, they blossomed into a full settlement.

A male of this race, one who excelled beyond the rest, became a beacon of hope that they could surpass limitations. Exceed all obstacles and trials. He ushered in an era of hope that they could, one day, achieve greatness.

The colony pit their mettle against a natural born species upon the planet. Powerful humanoid creatures that varied in appearance. The more humanoid, the more powerful. Seasons of the hunt became a thing. The most powerful dropped being a testament to the warriors who fell them, and a means of asserting dominance and ranking in a hierarchical system.

The beacon of light one day, though, came upon his greatest challenge. A ruler of lands. And upon nearly securing victory, her wounded, fully transformed form, fled. He discovered her body sometime after, but was mistaken by her humanoid figure. Assuming her one of his own race, he took her in and nursed her back to health, unto which she assumed the role as one of them in a bid not only to save those of her lands, but as well to keep her own well-being safe.

In time, the two discovered feelings for one another and bore children. These children were thought of as the evolution of their species, looking far-flung from their parental contributors.

But that all came to a blistering halt one day as their feral traits began to take form; shattering the illusion that they were pure blooded.

Parents branded as traitors, and children regarded as scum and filth-bloods, the lot of them were condemned to death. Broken hearted, and fearing for the well-being of the children, a female associate of the father, who’d tutored the children and taught them all she knew, sacrificed her own life to ensure their safety.

So begins the story of Kazura Kanahashi; eldest child of the three.

Eldest brother of three, Kazura spent the early months on Earth teaching his siblings what he knew from his days training under the tutelage of his father’s team member, and friend. He taught them what little knowledge he had that had been passed unto him to craft them into the best warriors he could. Even rough around the edges, the younger siblings took well to his teachings and became self-sufficient when it came to hunting, foraging, and managing some sense of independance. 

In time, the roving siblings established something akin to a home base of sorts in the wilds of unclaimed territories. Simple, yet sensible, it worked for the collective trio and they made progress in building a small settlement of sorts. Looking at it from the perspective of a guardian, as well as an older brother, he found pride in his under-kin.

But that eventually changed upon the desertion of his younger brother, Vegeshin. Came a day when he could not locate him, he found worry and torment. But knowing his brother to be just as capable as he, he denied the inner desire to think him dead. Instead, he came to a darker conclusion that he’d been betrayed and left for naught. Left for the thrills that the world around them could provide, and that their blood bonds were moot in the face of the lulls that civilization possessed.

And so he left his brother to the temptations of city lights and urban sprawls. His focus on his youngest sibling intensified, and he sought to instill loyalty and unwavering dedication into the youngest kin. He trained him harder, taxing the poor youth until they could push no further.

And still he continued to persist.

Came a day, though, that he broke the sibling. The youngest of them all had begun to regress, feeling spite and disinterest in sparring. In growing in power. In knowing the ways of combat and self-preservation, as Kazura deemed it. The youngest instead believed in peace, in serenity. In seeing beauty in all things. The youngest, instead, saw more potential in sowing seeds of sustenance and harvesting the land they had. They saw no potential in battle. In combat and growth in might, for they saw such a thing as unnecessary in such a peaceful place; in such peaceful times. And that is how the youngest fell; broken in a heap at the eldest brothers feet as Kazura saw fit to show him how dangerous the world could be. How dangerous even the most trusting can be. How betrayal can come in the blink of an eye. Kazura broke his youngest brother and nearly cost his young kin their life. All to inspire growth. Instead, he inspired fear. Fear in the youngest brother, and fear in himself for what he’d done.

He left his youngest brother in the care of a rural couple, a myriad distance away from their meek sprawl, thinking they could care for him better than he until such a time as his brother found the right age, and mentality, to return to him.

Kazura’s brother never returned, though.

Wrought with despair, time after, at the realization that his last shred of family had left him, he grew colder. He festered with spite, and grew hateful of the world. He grew hateful of civilizations and the mass collective; their ability to warp the minds around them and breed sheep who think as a collective instead of independently. Relying on the strength of others rather than relying on themselves.

And yet, even he found a breaking point. Smothered by silence and solitude, he sought out any sort of companionship he could. And so he fell back on his beliefs. He submit to the woes of his desires, and the whims of the world around him.

A wandering collection of mercenaries did he stumble upon; joining their ranks with a mild display of power and skill to earn their approval. Becoming one of them, he travelled far and wide with them, growing fond of the bloodshed that stained his attire. Drenched in sin, he found jubilance in the act of taking lives. Of growing in strength and earning the praise of his fellow disciples in death. He became a prodigy, and excelled in all facets of the line of work.

Until the head of the cult grew weary and fearful of his potential. Fearing he’d be usurped one day, he silently made a pact with his fellow upper-clansmen. On a cold, biting, eve with a chill hanging in the breeze, he had the upper-clansmen rally their underlings and the lot of them sought to take the young man’s life. It all seemed to be so very simple; a task easily accomplished, but in the blink of an eye things slid wildly out of control. Everything went awry.

The young man had not been asleep, and instead had been rather astute to the odd behaviors they’d exhibited recently. Knowing something strange had been afoot, he lay upon the cold, hard, ground in wait for what surely would come. And just as swiftly as they’d descended on him did he pounce and strike true. Felling clansmen after clansmen, he arose bathed in sanguine. Eyes ablaze, steeped in vermilion, pierced the night, luminescent with all the hatred Hell could hath possibly contained. His arm plunged through the chest cavity of the head clansmen, he spoke words of malefic reproach; berated the man and lessened him in every possible manner. He humiliated him and then he took his head and tossed it as if it were but a ball of garbage.

Leaving the carcasses behind, he claimed the leads sword as a token of his deed; a reminder that would remain with him throughout his life.

From there, he grew only greater in hatred and rage; believing the cosmos full of vile inhabitants all bent on hurting one another in some form or fashion. That the mighty would do naught but punish the weak; bring them suffering and pain. And that the weak, themselves, were useless fools incapable of measuring their self worth and rising above the muck and mire of inability. The inability to grow. The inability to bring change. It all struck him to be a vicious cycle. A cycle he would have to break, somehow.

Upon this realization, he sought out power. He sought it anywhere he could acquire it. And it lead him to a nefarious being who imparted a great wisdom onto the young man. Warped wisdom, but wisdom all the same. To break the cycle, he would have to take hold and control the cycle himself. To break weakness, he would have to eliminate it. All those weak would perish. To prevent pain and suffering; to prevent betrayal and resentment, he would have to take it all upon himself so that no others would bare the burden.

He would have to conquer the cosmos. Become all that is and ever was in a single form. Amass an infinitum of power and house it within himself. He would have to become the totalitarian ruler of the masses. He would have to instill such a crippling fear into them so as to drop them to their very knees in a whimpering pile upon sight of him. Those that did fall to their knees would perish. Those that didn’t, but still felt fear to their core...would survive; but survive only because he allowed it.

And so he proceeded on his path to glory. It all had to start with his birth-world. Returning to the planet, he brought the race to weep at his heinous power. His crimson wrath did not go unfelt. He bathed the, now sprawling cities, in blood. He brought entire skylines to the earth in vast clouds of dust. And when all crescendoed to the climactic moment, he brought silence in the blink of an eye as he detonated the planet.

His return to Earth, swift, he sought out his middle sibling, bent on warping the young man to his favor. But he never found him. He never found his youngest kin, either. His search in vain as the cosmos had other plans for him.

Wrenched through time and space, he found himself situated upon a planet known as Valore. All means and manner of fodder lay in wait, and he found little restraint in himself, bodies falling all around him and cities trembling in his wake. But it did not skirt the eyes of those more powerful than he. Enemies on high did he make, and soon his methods had to change lest he fall prey to those more capable of dispatching him.

Instead, he sought knowledge. He sought ways to lurk about and collect information necessary. He discovered that in such a realm, power proved nothing more than a triviality. Trivial in the face of those on high. Trivial in a realm where Gods and Anti-Gods waged war regularly in the streets. Where common man were a rarity and instead all manner of pseudo-Gods were plentiful.

And so he discovered seedier practices. His mind flourished as he began developing in other areas. He attracted, first, individuals of like-minded nature. Forged a false pact, though they were none the wiser. He profited and began building an empire.

And then the collapse of reality came to pass. The multiverse, as all had known it, had fractured. Locations disappeared. New locations blossomed to life. Cities warped, and melded, from whence they were two they were now but one. People vanished. Gods blinked out of existence only for new Deities to take their place. Nothing would ever be the same.

Kazura, himself, discovered a doppelganger of himself. A man of righteous practices. A man who, surprisingly, ran a corporation of sorts. As strange as it all had seemed, he couldn’t help but attribute such a thing...as fate. It all came so easily after that. The doppelganger dispatched, he took up the mantle and throne of the corporate endeavor. With his power, his influence, and the associates he’d made pacts with, the corporation swelled until it took up interstellar proportions. Now an interstellar multi-conglomerate, his influence could be felt across the cosmos. His shady dealings raked in countless funds; funds he found little use in aside from funding his thorough hunts for relics and artefacts of great power and potential.

Building a vast collection of such trinkets, his natural power swelled, and yet his power potential through such relics became mind numbingly incalculable. Plans continued to proceed accordingly, with the occasional run-ins with his sibling; or whom he thought had been his sibling, up until days before he sought to unveil his plans for domination.

Whilst not the entire Multiverse as he knew it, his corporate empire controlled the economic stability of various systems. Having monopolized almost every corner of the market, the various systems would have no choice but to fold under his might. A corporate sovereignty. An empire that would finally be able to rear its ugly countenance. And he the lord of it all.

And yet fate would deem otherwise. Fate would see to it that his plans be foiled. That all his work be in vain. That he be demoted yet again, betrayed this time by the very fabric of reality itself. Denied his just desires. Denied his vengeance on the cosmos. Denied his hatred and his rage spilled out upon the innocents that he deem worthless maggots. Denied what he so self-righteously believed would be his calling. Denied everything, given nothing and left to the mercy of a new quasiverse with naught but what he carry on his very body.
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Vermilion Sin

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