zyta

Name: Zyta Amameru
Age: 19

Race: Demon

Gender: Male

Alignment: Doesn’t have a side in any battle, argument, feud; works for his own, perhaps twisted, ambition. Ambition is aligned for himself.

Distinctive marks: N/A

Clothing: Weather-worn traveling cloak with the color faded to the point that it is no longer distinguishable. He wears loose pants, also weather worn pants, lengthy is size but oddly enough is never stepped on. He wears braces on both forearms made of leathery hide; they are more kept there out of habit more than protection. Underneath his cloak is a brown, also leather vest that help keep his muscular form hidden as well as protects from physical harm and natural harm.

Weapons: Naginata and two wakizashi
Usable Weapons: The two wakizashi are used as the first resort when fighting, they usually get the job gone. They are not magically or otherwise enhanced in any, but they are quick precise and sharp weapons. The naginata on the other hand is a fierce and powerful weapon; it remains on his back tied by two strings so I won’t fall off. What makes the naginata feared so is that the user (Zyta) is able to set off explosions at will with the blade by inserting a portion of his own energy through it, he is able to cut a thread in reality resulting in the implosion of the area and that leads to an inevitable explosion. Powerful as he is though, each explosion takes more out of him than just energy, so it isn’t used too much. Another thing about the naginata is that it is uniquely sharp; able to cut through stone like a hot knife through butter, the naginata cuts through steel like air. There is no sign of wear or tear on the metal which was made from a falling meteor and molded with Zyta’s own energy, the blade never breaks (though the wood of the naginata can), and never fails to cut.

Character Bio:

Zyta grew up not knowing his father, hating his mother, and separated from his twin brother. His father died only a few days after his birth, leaving his mother distraught and fretfully dangerous. Since then on in his early childhood, Zyta could only remember fierce battles with his twin who shall not be named for personal reasons to every scrap of meat he could eat. They bled profusely each fight, but with their natural healing powers, were healed over each night and they would begin anew the next day. Their mother took the blood for her own vices—also shall not be said as it is hardly appropriate for an Ages 15+ story.

When he was five, Zyta left home in the middle of the night one day while it rained to hide his footprints and sought to start his new life. He was scared; terrified would be a better choice of words. From his battles with his brother, Zyta learned basic survival instincts, he could already differentiate between a murderous intent and a non-murderous intent. He was paranoid, twitching at every shadow that moved, every rock that fell, every sound that penetrated his unmoving ears. Nearly a month of wandering, nearly dead of starvation and exhausted of pointless worry, he was taken in by an assassin master. It was by this man, Sakurai, and learned the proper way to kill, to fight and live among his kind.

Sakurai had a daughter, two of them actually, Zyta fell in love with the eldest at first sight. His love then though was more of an affection for an older sister, she was two years older and the younger sister was his age. The tree trained together, becoming silent death, their skills sharpening, becoming flawless in every style. There they learned many languages, fluently as to not arise suspicion. They read many books, gained knowledge even scholars didn’t know. But overall, they were trained in one hit kills, everything from sword to hand-to-hand to poisons they were drilled din endlessly. As time went on, Zyta’s and Ayse’s, elder sister, gradually changed from brother-sister to a romantic one.

The moment in his life that he wishes to never speak of again, for the shame and regret are too painful, she fathered two children, twin girls named Kalo and Rei. The mother perished during childbirth and Zyta was left a container; soulless, emotionless, always apathetic, everyone feared that he’d never be the same again. Six months after their birth and still Zyta had not once looked at his children, but he thought of them constantly and at the six month remembering of Ayse, Zyta had his first taste of alcohol… something his foster father wished never took place.

The cold drink did wonders for Zyta, for the first time since Ayse had died, he showed emotion, he laughed, cried, smiled, and appeared to have healed completely. After the drinking, Zyta almost succeeded in stealing the lives of his children, repeating in small, shallow murmurs “They came and Ayse died, kill them and Ayse comes back… They came and Ayse died, kill them and Ayse comes back… They came and Ayse died, kill them and Ayse comes back…”

Since the event took place, Zyta left the only place in the entire world he could call home full heartedly, he left on his own free accord, no one blaming him for his actions that night. He became an assassin at the age of twelve, killing countless. For many killing the just one living soul would destroy a man, the guilt too powerful, but Zyta was different, he couldn’t care less, to him they were containers. They meant nothing to him, he didn’t know their them apart from their name, he was not connected in anyway and in this fashion, killing those he didn’t know on a personal level, he remained completely sane and unchanged, uncaring.

He cares little for the outside world and its trifles, they are not his business, but when he returned home once intending to say hello to his children for the first time in his whole life, he finds the area destroyed with his children hostage by some unknown being. Whether they were of his race or another he didn’t know, or care. His mind filled every ounce with a single thought, getting them back alive and starting anew with them. As such he turned to the war, there were hints of his family buzzing in the pre-war era.

Character Portrait: Black hair that falls to his shoulder, appears to be stringy and also falls across his face to hide his eyes. His build is athletic, he is immensely strong but you wouldn’t know of it at any number of glances. The cloak he wears prevents others from seeing his body and, even if they got passed the cloak, he is only a lean looking person until he gets into a fight, there his muscles appear in full fashion. His eyes are the most unique trait of his body; they are empty pupils, black and dark brown in color, but always swaying in a random omnipotent pattern. Each eye looks to be of infinite depth and could easily rip the soul from your body. One look from a standard bypasses becomes pale, ice chilling down their back and they momentarily forget how to speak; they become so panic-stricken that some even never recover from those ailments till their death bed.

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