Name: Setsukei Kuroshi
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Rank: Genin
Village: Snow
Affiliations: None
Elements:
Main: Wind
Subs:
Personality: Setsukei, at first glance, seems shy and reserved. He has trouble with new acquaintances and therefore can come off as reclusive. However once he becomes comfortable with a person he will open up very quickly. He is not one for keeping secrets and he definitely loves to talk a lot. Overall he is a very friendly person, just misunderstood occasionally.
Appearance: Setsukei has long black hair, which is usually left to just flow down past his shoulders in an unkempt fashion. He can be found wearing his signature white robes, even though they can be quite cumbersome in combat. He has a strong composure for the most part, with very gentle features. His eyes are the only really striking part of his face. They are dark, almost the same color as his hair, and wearily unwavering.
Bio: Setsukei was born into a family of engineers. They were simple people, yet very intelligent and very driven. His father pushed and pushed for him to follow in his footsteps. He even went so far as to punish Setsukei with no food or beverage until he would finish his studies or a project. Setsukei however had no interest in the ways of science and technology. His greatest fascination was with the sword.
He came upon his first demonstration of the weapon at a young age of 6. While on a business errand with his father they passed by a troupe of traveling performers. Setsukei was mesmerized by the way the blades would cut through the air, leaving trails of blurring steel, and whistling so serenely through the air. It was then that he found his true passion. For years he practiced with nothing more than a dull blade fashioned out of scrap. He worked hard to keep his hobby a secret from his parents. Studying twice as hard to keep their suspicions away.
But alas, Setsukei was in search of something more. He wanted to feel the weight of a real sword as he slashed through the air. He yearned to hear the telltale whistling of steel slashing through wind. He wanted nothing more than to be free to pursue his love of swordsmanship. So he made up his mind to leave his home, and leave behind the engineers life. He traveled for months and months, a young man of sixteen years. It wasn't until he stumbled upon the academy, that he realized his true calling.
Finally, now at the age of 17, Setsukei Kuroshi made up his mind and submitted for training at the Shinobi academy. Thus, his story begins..
RP Sample: Setsukei yawned, stretching his arms out as high as they would go. He had been walking non-stop for hours and he needed to rest. Searching his immediate surroundings, his eyes fell upon a stump suitable for sitting. He slung his pack from his shoulder, and allowed himself to collapse upon the lone "seat." It wasn't long before the weary traveler drifted off into sleep. He dreamed of himself, dressed in a samurai's armor and armed with a real live katana, standing alone on a battlefield. His helmet was cracked, and his armor covered in blood. His blade bore markings of a fierce battle. He saw himself, the victor, alone in a sea of blood...
He awoke to some rustling nearby, his brow thick with his own sweat. Nervously, the young man began to shift forward. As his feet contacted the ground he slowly came up into a crouching position. Looking around, his eyes saw nothing in the dark, night air. He allowed himself to exhale as he reached around for his pack. His hand made contact with it and he drew it close to himself.
"Is there anyone there?" he said softly, allowing his voice to echo.
Moments passed with no reply. Setsukei began to relax, his muscles finally getting a chance to retract. However, the moment of respite was short lived. For as soon as he lowered his guard, a fierce growling emitted from the darkness to his right. As he spun towards the noise, he dropped his pack. The resounding thump was enough to shake him from his head to toe. He fumbled around for it, frantically searching through the dark. The growl began to grow louder and louder. Finally, his hand struck the strap. He grasped it tightly and swung it with all of his might outward at the noise.
The pack struck home with a loud "bang." As it recoiled, Setsukei turned on his heel and began to sprint through the darkness. With only the slight glow of the moon to guide him he kept pace, trying to outdistance his mysterious attacker. The growling noise resounded loudly now, as if in rage. It drew closer and closer, causing Setsukei much disarray. He found himself up against large stone wall, with no where else to go.
He spun around, drawing a steel rod that bore years of abuse on it from his pack. In one last act of defiance he charged the unknown beast, loudly yelling his battle-cry for all to hear. As he neared the noise, he braced for impact, not knowing the size or power of his foe. Impact never came, however. All Setsukei felt was a gentle disturbance of the wind. All he heard was the faint whistling of steel flowing through the air. As he opened his frightened eyes he was confronted with a terrible, yet beautiful sight. The beast, a large white bear, lay dead to the left of Setsukei. Its' side was full of gray, steel blades. To the right of Setsukei stood a lone man, dressed all in black, with a strange mask on his face. That was all he remembered before feeling a sharp pain on his head.
When he awoke it was day time, and he lay where he had fallen. Of the bear or the man, there was no sign. All that remained were those small steel blades. Setsukei collected them and rose up to face a marvelous site. The wall he had been forced against was massive, reaching to the skies. Atop it were armor clad men, bearing the same symbol upon themselves. A few meters to the left stood a massive steel gate, with guards posted at it's base. Setsukei made his way to the gate and, ultimately, to his new home.
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