Recent Statuses

2 mos ago
Current People say you learn from your mistakes, so I decided to make more to get smarter.
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5 yrs ago
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
5 yrs ago
You great supine proto-plasmic Invertibrate Jellies!
5 yrs ago
Last night, I kept dreaming that I had written Lord of the Rings. The wife said I'd been Tolkien in my sleep
5 yrs ago
Claustrophobic people are more productive thinking outside the box.




▅▅▅▅UK | ♆ | he/him | 29 | ♆

I'm Brink an average guy from the United Kingdom. I have been on the guild for a long time now, some say too long.

I've not been active in a long time but every so often I return to build a character or two in my spare time. I've very rarely taken on an actual RP but it's not out of the question. In the past I've done a bit of everything, Sci-fi, Fantasy, slice of life from Casual to Advanced to 1x1.

Currently working on a character for a Bleach fandom RP, a bit of a weak spot for me as it's nostalgic. But if you like me or like my writing feel free to send through a PM and ask questions or pitch me on ideas you may have.


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太 郎 山 田


// L E D B Y B U T T E R F L I E S

"Hai." Taro gave an honorable bow to his head captain before he spun on the spot towards the door. As he left he grabbed Mitsue in an embrace that was as friendly as it was controlling, shuffling him along by his side the decision was made for the pair to travel to the living world.

They soon arrived at the Senkaimon, the last blasts of soul society sun beating their brows.
"Vasto Lorde. This could be dangerous, Mitsue." the words lingered in the air a moment as if the sunlight weighed them down, preventing their escape. Taro was not actually worried about their patrol, he was confident in the two of them, especially together, but he had always enjoyed exaggerating the trials ahead. He peered forward as the portal opened.
"Maybe once it's over we could visit that cake shop again" his verbose smile contrasted the previous omen in a way only Taro could. Tucking his arms into the sleeves of his uniform Taro proceeded forward, led by butterflies to the world of the living.


The pair found themselves walking alongside a winding canal. It wasn't as sunlit as the Soul society, in fact the grey skies gave the day a muted, ponderous and ill-fated atmosphere. Taro walked on as subtly as a man his size could, he seemed lost in thought, not paying attention to the cars nearby or the people whom couldn't see him. In actuality Taro was alert, he conversed with his friend but all the while he was sensing spiritual pressures, checking corners and rooftops in his peripheral vision.
"Mitsue. If we find this hollow, we will need to protect the city first, then fight it."
太 郎 山 田


// A N E W E R A

In a most serene manner the butterfly with a message landed neatly atop Taro's head. His wide smile turned to a look of curiosity as his gaze couldn't quite match the curvature of his forehead. The sun was rampant, stretching along the floor as if trying to reach Taro's bent leg like a pining child, thankfully he was sat just out of reach, in the cool calm shade. Lowering his new winged friend in a gentle grasp he was notified of the meeting, a cursory glance at where the sun was in the sky, he had time. He rested a pen on the paper and stood from his chamber desk, allowing himself a moment to watch the flutter of his messenger make its way out of the window.

So strong was the sun's glare the contrast between the hall and it's boundary to the outside world obscured any arrivals. To those inside it must have seemed like the devil himself approached, a strong bright sun blotted from existence by the appearance of one very large silhouetted beast, the warm summer rays snuffed out like candles in his shadow. And yet in walked Taro, his haori settling as the wind struggled to follow him inside with a smile etched across his flat features as if carved in permanently, breaking any tension.

It was a quiet residence. Not many had arrived and those that had were either lost in thought or entertaining themselves. Feeling he should not to usurp the placid tone Taro took his place in the inevitable line-up and mused to himself about the writings he had left unfinished before he was called for.
太 郎 山 田


// B U I L D I N G A M O U N T A I N

Running through the pathways outside of his barracks, Taro was searching for some semblance of reason. Plumes of black smoke filled the night sky with an inky rash and at their base the fires that fueled them emitted a frenzied glow. A thunderous crack exploded into the alleyway not five feet from where he stood, boring a hole into its left wall. Taro could only shield himself from the blast, batting away chunks of brink and plaster. He soon sped towards the hole, seeing another Shinigami crawling out from under the rubble. Jumping to his aid, Taro wrapped the mans arm around his shoulder to bring him to his feet.
"Go! get to safety" He didn't truly know where safety was but there wasn't time nor mind to ponder it. "What the hell is going on..." he muttered to himself, not sure of which way to turn. He could feel so many spiritual pressures at once that he could barely single one out, yet his attention was quickly caught by the sound of clashing blades. "The barracks gate!" Leaping into the air Taro skipped from wall to wall, his wooden sandals clacking upon each impact.

His billowing kosode flapped in the rush of air before settling with a thud as Taro arrived. The gates Honden stood above its surroundings, the bright Tenné colour signaling its locale to the area. Taro could hear voices, interspersed with several clangs of steel. As he scanned the space for movement, his eyesight focused on a figure passing through the gates aperture. He sighed in relief, recognizing the man as his captain, Mizushima. Taro let go of his swords hilt, allowing the cold air to chill his sweaty palms. There was something amiss. Staggering backwards the full extent of Mizushima's condition came to light. He was visibly wounded, the usual snowy white of the captains haori was blotched with blood and overflowed in places so badly that it had begun to pool on the tiled floor below. Everything got quiet. Taro could only watch as Mizushima strived to stay upright. In a sudden movement, a blade caught the light, forcing a flinch out of Taro as he witnessed his captain yield to a mortal blow.

Instinct took over. He drew his Zanpakuto, and charged forward with an sturdy cry. Vaulting to his mentors aid, Taro turned to face the gate, ready to take on any and all assailants. But he could only spot the silhouette, springing above the barracks arched canopy as they departed. Taro grimaced at the sight, highlighting his rugged features.
"Captain!" as it dropped, the metallic skid of his sword was followed by a panicked pant. "W-Who did this!? You're a captain, who has that kind of power!" the dying man still held his Zanpakuto, in its released form it was an angular sickle with an elongated haft still loosely clasped in his ash-laden hand. With what he could muster, Mizushima raised his hand and placed it by Taro's heart.

"That's not important now, Taro." he did well to fight off the spluttering cough building in his throat. "What is, is that you become what you were meant to be." he gave an honest smile, curling the corner of his mouth in a regret he owned. His hand fell into Taro's, passing his last gesture to him before his reign ended.

"Captain..." a solemn reality deadened Taro's face. And as his hand fell away, it revealed the armband of a seated position in squad nine. Taro climbed to his feet, a single tear dampening the armbands tightly woven fabric. It was in this moment that Taro made a promise to himself, and among the anarchy, managed to crack a smile in remembrance for his teacher. Taro began to remove Mizushima's haori, brushing dirt from the insignia imprinted to its back. He carefully laid it over captain Jiro, and in one last subdued moment, said his goodbye.

Reaching across he plucked Mizushima's Zanpakuto from his grip, as well as his own sword still laid behind him. Not knowing who or what to seek out, Taro began to wander away, further into the pandemonium that had engulfed the Seireitei.
太 郎 山 田

The Man Mountain | The Hero of the Seireitei | The Stone Fist

Shinigami Male 374 Years old 6'5" 246lbs 9th Division Captain

太 郎 山 田

The Man Mountain | The Hero of the Seireitei | The Stone Fist

Shinigami Male 374 Years old 6'5" 246lbs 9th Division Captain

太 郎 山 田

The Man Mountain | The Hero of the Seireitei | The Stone Fist

Shinigami Male 374 Years old 6'5" 246lbs 9th Division Captain

// A P P E A R A N C E
Casting a mountainous shadow as he jaunts around the Seireitei, Taro is a man of notable proportion. His good-humored and amiable aura does a good job of dispelling his innately intimidating figure however. His chiseled countenance make for a robust and strong face, surrounded with hair so red it's only seen on the ripest of apples during the summer time. With a wild and unkempt manner about him, his impressive musculature and broad chest is often first to catch the eye. Years of enthusiastic workouts make him look more like brick than flesh and bone. Complete with a brimming smile Taro cascades his way through the various streets and alleyways of his home, if it weren't for his Shihakushō some might suspect a caveman on the loose.

Taro wears his Shinigami uniform with pride. His sleeveless haori stamps him with the ninth division he leads whilst his Zanpakuto sits nestled in his obi sash, its Tenné wrap offering some harmony in colour against an eight pointed tsuba.
In his leisure time Taro enjoys wearing his slate Kimono and striped Hakama. Something about its stylish aesthetic relaxes him during his past time hobbies playing music and painting. With a white poppy emblazoned on its back it is often what he will wear during official barracks inspections and in the privacy of his personal quarters.

Overall Taro comes across as a friendly giant, and finding that people hide their true feelings when faced with a rank rather than a name, he is adept at the little touches of dishevelment that make him more approachable.

// P E R S O N A L I T Y
Taro is by nature, a leader. A friendly giant to some, an assertive tutor to others. Noble and idealistic, he is a person who lets history run its course and acts according to his impulses. Stubborn and obsessive at times, Taro is introspective and reflective, constantly trying to better himself and find challenges that push him to his limits. Iron sharpens iron, after all.

His motivation in life is perpetual self improvement as a result of a deep-seated fear about destiny and his fixation on being ready when his time comes. His ultimate desire is gain enough power that he can not only face his fate head on, but grab it with both hands and mold it how he sees fit, to leave a legacy that will never die and pass through the ages as a hero.

He cares intensely about the bonds he makes and the friendships he has nurtured throughout his time in the Seireitei. Prone to emotional actions he sees his purpose as a protector and will always risk his own well being for those he loves. As Captain of squad nine Taro enjoys the arts, he believes the mind needs just as much improvement as the body and strives to do so with music, painting and literary works, particularly enjoying his editorial duties in the Seireitei news magazine. He has also adopted the annoying quirk of slapping his friends on the back in celebration, not knowing his own strength, they rarely welcome it.

// T R A I T S
Likes Dislikes
Music Pomegranate
Meat The idea of completion
Friendships Resting on his laurels
Training Uninspiring leaders

Positive Traits Negative Traits
Confident Imperious
Optimistic Impulsive
Valiant Restless
Affable Stubborn

// H I S T O R Y
In his early days as a Shinigami Taro was not the man he is today. Unseated in the ninth division he was in awe of the upper echelons in the Gotei thirteen and had convinced himself that he would never sit with them side by side, as an equal. He wasn't out of shape, or particularly lazy but his confidence and his commitment that hindered Taro and it was around this time that he was noticed by his former Captain.

Jiro Mizushima was an involved leader, he inspected all the members of his squad and made a point of befriending and extending his helpful hand to any that needed it. Taro was only too accepting of his embrace and over their limited time together, he was unseated after all, Taro made an impression onto his former captain, convincing him that there was a suitable Shinigami in him, it was just begging to be free.

Under the tutelage of Captain Mizushima, Taro began to make strides in his training. He was particularly fond of Hakuda, perhaps a lost remnant of the past life Taro had no memory of. However this was cut short. Not long after Taro was earmarked for a seated position in his division, the coup happened. The head Captain along with a handful of his underlings betrayed and attacked the Seireitei, the ensuing combat was vicious and exhausting, frightening and lasting.

Taro found himself running rings around the barracks looking for his fellow officers in any attempt to control the situation, but it was chaos. Taro finally believed he had found respite when he appeared to have found his Captain. At the end of the long alleyway just outside of his own quarters Taro smiled at his relief, before it turned to a look of shock and horror. He watched as his Captain backed away, seemingly he had just fought whomever stood around the corner, out of Taro's sight. He did not look good. His Haori was split, blood dripped from his limbs and Taro remembers seeing his Zanpakuto, loosely gripped but in its released form. He fell to his knees, and muttered something to his assailant, out of earshot. Taro extended an arm and prepared himself to charge to his captains defence. Until the flash of a blade caught the light, and ended his Captains reign.

Taro was frozen. He could not comprehend what he had just seen. As if he wasn't really present he turned and slowly walked in a daze of shock. For the rest of the battle-filled night Taro wandered the Seireitei looking for a purpose, a new path, a new reason. He came across another Shinigami, seemingly as lost as he was. Barely functioning, Taro simply followed the man who would later become his friend and the two escaped his hell together.

In the following years Taro had internalized the events that happened. In such a chilling example of mortality, Taro found drive and determination. He followed the example his former Captain had set for him and worked to become the Shinigami he now knew he could be. Applying himself to each and every discipline, Taro forced himself forward. He was intent that when his time came he would be ready, that what happened to his mentor would be a harrowing, yet learning experience.

Keeping his friends close, and his conviction razor sharp, Taro rose through the ranks. It was an emotional moment, when he was offered the Captaincy of the ninth division. To sit in the seat that Jiro once had, and to be given the chance to mentor his officers as he once was. Taro shed a tear, and accepted the position with an staunchness that would serve to define him to everyone that knew him. As his first act, he built a shrine on division grounds to their previous Captain. A remembrance and a message, that the ninth would never stop moving forward built on the lessons of the past.

// R E L A T I O N S H I P S
Jiro Mizushima - Former Ninth Division Captain His former captain holds a special place in Taro's heart. He learnt the importance of duty, preparation and leadership from his former mentor and Taro visibly becomes emotional whenever his memory in invoked. His Captain was cut down during the usurpation before his time, Taro would say, and it is a thought and feeling that has stuck with him and changed his life path.

Mitsue Kurotou - Tenth Division Captain Being friends since their academy days and having been together during the uprising nearly one hundred years ago, Taro and Mitsue have had a special bond. Since then they have both risen through he ranks of the Gotei thirteen and both reached the lofty seat of Captain. They have stayed good friends and Taro sees Mitsue as his most loyal and trusted companion.

Okirigae Mosumi - Eleventh Division Captain

// P O W E R S & F I G H T I N G S T Y L E
Taro has a very dynamic fighting style, combining his Zanjutsu and Hakuda to overwhelm and surprise opponents. He likes to test himself and push his limits, often picking the strongest combatant he can find to help sharpen his own skills forcing him to grow and develop. In conjunction with his Zanpakuto abilities Taro can be a very subversive adversary, finding small but effective edges to turn fights in his favor putting foes in uncomfortable and annoying situations.
Hakuda - Master Easily Taro's most dominant combat style. He is a premier master of the art and as head of the Security forces he sees it as a requirement for his seated squad members to at least be proficient.

Zanjutsu - Master Taro applied himself to hone his swordsmanship skills to a level expected of a Shinigami Captain, he is considered a master and his ability with a sword has extended to his wielding of other weapons also.

Hohō - Expert The sheer size of Taro has made his mastery of Flash-step difficult, and he is far from the fastest. But with his customary dedication to the art he has attained an expert level and continues to study it.

Kidō - Proficient The weakest area of Taro's skill set. With such a focus on his physical abilities he has struggled to develop his understanding of Kidō. He is still proficient however, and can use what he does know when the need arises.

// S P I R I T & I N N E R W O R L D
When traversing the depths of himself Taro is stood atop an impossibly high mountain, sheered at it's peak as if cut by a gigantic blade. Often peering off its edge he can only see the swath of thick pearly cloud that hugs the mountains waist, blocking all sight of any ground that lies below, if any exists at all. In the centre of the plateau, nestled among large boulders and creeping vines, is a single Japanese maple tree stretching its bowed and crooked branches to the sky and offering the asylum of its shade to the spirit that rests underneath its brazen red leaves.

As a gargantuan Orangutan it is one of the few beasts that outsizes Taro. Knotted brown ropes of hair cover its arms and body mimicking the vines that sit underfoot. Moving with an industry and exertion, the great ape suffuses and air of age and wisdom. Its presence acting like a warming embrace to Taro's soul, as if two old friends had finally reacquainted.

Laid-back in nature, it generally communicates in grunts and gestures, only taking the effort to speak in times of urgency. Neteyama has been an important figure in Taro's life. Acting less like a father and more like a grandparent, passing his foresight and caution to Taro, he is an important balancing element to his impetuousness.

Taro's Zanpakuto spirit has guided him since its inception. He has many secrets and many trials to bestow upon his wielder still, but when the time is right, Neteyama will be there for his master.

割 , 寝 て 山

K I R E T S U , N E T E Y A M A

[Crack, Sleeping Mountain]

// S H I K A I A P P E A R A N C E
Stabbing the ground and keeping hold of it's handle, Taro will call Neteyama's name to release it. As he does so the ground will crack as if a great weight had been dropped. The dust will quickly whip around Taro and his Zanpakuto before dissipating to reveal him holding his Hammer.

About as heavy as it looks, Neteyama is a colossal sledge complete with rivets and a large ring beneath its hilt. So weighty is his released state Taro generally has to use both hands to wield it, swinging it in wide arcs and using it's momentum in whirling strikes that can break bones and topple buildings.

// S H I K A I A B I L I T I E S
Neteyama is an earth based Zanpakuto. So long as his hammer is touching a source of stone of ground, Neteyama can manipulate it into Terra-kinetic constructs sprouting walls, spikes and even fists with which to fight. The limits of this power are bound by the range of Taro's spiritual pressure meaning he cannot attack at great ranges.

After being analysed by the squad twelve laboratories, Taro has come to learn that his Zanpakuto works by attaching his Reiatsu to the carbon atoms in the earth, allowing him to forcibly move them around and create the constructs that he does. Touching the source of stone with his Zanpakuto allows it to transfer these particles and inhabit it with the hammers spirit. In addition to his base ability, Taro has learned and trained himself to use special techniques within the realms of its power.
石件 Ishiken (Stone Fist) Invoking this name allows Neteyama so swallow or absorb stone and store it within the hammer. This increases the weight of Taro's Zanpakuto up to ten-fold allowing him to strike with immense power. He can also use this as a slam attack onto the ground in front of him inciting a tectonic wave of rock and stone in any given direction.

石顎 Ishiago (Stone Jaws) This technique allows Taro to very quickly disintegrate stone into a fine sand in a limited area and size, and allows him to solidify it again afterwards. He uses this technique as a trap, waiting for an opponent to strike at a stone wall or the ground and liquefying it allowing their weapon to pass through before cementing it in place.

百手巨人 Kategori (Hundred-Handed One) The final ability of Neteyama is to create multiple stone copies of Taro himself, as many as five in the past. They are distinguishable from Taro with a cracked brown exterior, but they match his physique and proficiency in Hakuda. To use this technique Taro must allow the ground to literally swallow his hammer, meaning he can only rely on his hand to hand combat as well, but it is a powerful way to overwhelm stronger opponents.

卍 解 , 地 震 上 山

B A N K A I , J I S H I N K A M I N O Y A M A

[Divine Quaking Mountain]

// B A N K A I A P P E A R A N C E
Releasing his Bankai, Taro presents his hammer with both arms, as if devoting it to a higher order. It ossifies, turning to rubble and falling away, ultimately disappearing. A thunderous shock ensues, rupturing the ground and opening fault-lines. Taro explodes in a rush of reiatsu as a sleeveless red coat forms and rests loosely on his shoulders complete with a large fur stole clasped around its rim. He holds no Zanpakuto, simply adopting his Hakuda stance.

// B A N K A I A B I L I T I E S
In Bankai the ground itself is Taro's weapon. Stretching as far as his Reiatsu reaches, he can manipulate and attack with rock, stone and all manner of earth. His predominant way of utilizing this is via Terra-kinetic weapons. Reaching out to thin air he can form stone swords, hammers, axes and pole-arms from the nearest sources of stone. Often attacking once before allowing it to crumble away as he strikes with the next. These weapons can be large and massive, often incredibly heavy packing as much stone into its shape as possible.

Taro can continue to use his Shikai abilities but to a more powerful degree. His stone fist can be applied to all Terra-kinetic weapons he creates, whilst his Stone Jaws can now be used at a much larger size, allowing the ground to swallow entire buildings. His stone clones are also more powerful, using the minerals in the earth he is able to give them a much more believable aesthetic, serving as actual clones rather than statues with a likeness. Finally Taro has developed a couple of techniques within his Bankai state as an ace up his sleeve.
石歩 Ishipo (Stone Steps) A form of Hohō combined with his powers of earth manipulation, Stone Steps allows him to sink into stone surfaces and rise from others. Essentially allowing him to close the distance rapidly and attack from elevated positions, particularly in urban locations.

山切り Yamakiri (Mountain-cutting blade) As a last resort and his most powerful technique, Taro can invoke Yamagiri and pull his Zanpakuto out of the ground taking the form of a hefty Ōdachi. Holding it firmly with both hands Taro can use his Zanjutsu to it's fullest with a sword as heavy as a mountain and sharp enough to bifurcate one.
I'm pretty close to done, but a couple of things. Firstly, a couple things have compounded, the CS skeleton has changed once or twice, I'm coming back from a long layoff so, rusty, and all the hiders were giving me a bit of trouble, so I've formatted my CS differently to make it easier for me. I hope that's not too much of a problem and I've tried to get all the same information in there, I guess once you see it you can tell me if it's applicable or not.

Secondly, in said CS it says I can reveal history or biography through IC with permission, may I do so? I always have trouble writing histories and find it much easier once I've really gotten a hold of the character and have enough time to think it through.

I haven't RP'd in years at this point but I always said a Bleach fandom would be the one that claws me back. I'm not committing to joining at the moment but I'm making my sheet to see how it goes, I'm shooting for 9th division Captain if that's alright.

(Pictures are from Peter Mohrbachers Angelarium. Check it out it's fookin' amazing)

▽ True Names
Samshiel, Samlatus and Samyaza

▽ Alias'
The Triad Shards, The Triplets, Splinter-Gods, The Siren, Mountain and Maw

▽ Speech Colours
Samshiel, Samlatus and Samyaza

▽ Origins
Imagine that furnace out of which everything came forth. This was a fire that filled the universe - that was the universe. There was no place in the universe free from it. Every point of the cosmos was a point of this explosion of light. And all the particles of the universe churned in extremes of heat and pressure, all that we see about us all that now exists was there at the beginning, in that great burning explosion of light. - Brian Swimme, The universe is a green Dragon

Spawned from swirling gases and enormous amounts of energy, gods have existed since the universe began. These celestial creatures feed upon the very stars, flying on etheric wings to continue their ceaseless consumption. It is in the ashes of such a being that our story stems. After a short and violent war a god was broken, fragmented. As its shattered pieces were strewn across the galaxy, its eminent life drifted from minds to stories to myths. But it is remarkably difficult to kill a god, and as this tale will tell, no death is absolute. It took a great many years for the shards to coalesce, to gather the fragments of a once-omnipotent being into three singular vessels. Yet as these beings were remnants of a former divinity, so their minds were each fractures of a severed whole.

The ambition of the triplets is to seed their next beginning, to cultivate the torn deity they had fallen from. Having travelled the constellations in hope of an energy source great enough, their attentions have turned to earth. The array of powerful individuals had become too large to ignore: an irresistible cluster of berries, ripe for the picking.

▽ Alignments
The triplets will be villainous to begin with as they carry on seeking out energy sources. This can change in time if the triplets particular perspective is changed to one that encompasses the consequences of their actions. However, this change in perspective can be rendered benign, dependant on the triplets current circumstance. For instance, if Samyaza was the sole proponent, she simply wouldn't listen to pleas and would continue to consume. In contrast, Samshiel would be more perceptive and her point of view could be altered more easily.

▽ Identities
Like gods, we have created a new universe called cyberspace that contains great good and ominous evil. We do not know yet if this new dimension will produce more monsters than marvels, but it is too late to go back. - David Horsey

Murmurings of the triplets advent often proliferate between dark alleyways and secretive unions. Occasionally, their presence is never felt. Frequently, there is little to be done. For the few that listen to the esoteric whispers between friends, the coming of the Triad can be forewarned. For those who neglect the signs, fates could be cut short.

▽ Appearances
The Triad are supernatural beings often immaterial or ethereal in nature. Yet in their pursuit to become whole again, the three have determined that containing their energies in as small a vessel as possible will aid their eventual fusing. For this reason, the triplets adopt physical bodies not too much taller than a regular human.

Samshiel The rigid, statuesque creation craned forward unhurriedly. A broken veil of silk pressed across its lachrymose mask lashed in the violent gale, revealing a sharp nose and emaciated jawline. Its dank grey skin wrapped around a skeletal body as shadows nestled between bulbous ribs. Each muscle, tendon and sinew stretched along a gaunt extended arm, ending with a lithe finger pointing towards its next sufferer.
"I am the Siren you seek."

Samlatus the Yellow, the Mountain. His dusty skin turns and flattens as if carved from stone, each muscle more defined as you canvass his body. Bronze rings and bracelets adorn hands of granite, matched by a row of hammered plates across his midriff. Samlatus has a fascination with animals, beasts and monsters. Bearing their bones, pelts and likenesses symbolises his baser instincts. Silver-white hair drifts from his head across his eyes and face, obscures his more prominent features. The sole detail exposed is a set of stale, arid lips that seem to draw in air like a newly unlocked vault.

Samyaza the Red, the Maw. A redish-purple hue colours her elastic skin, as if bare muscle were exposed. Displaying a collection of limbs, brought to life by grasping talons, she has the most confounding of semblances. Swaying, ethereal hair embeds itself into her sunken eye sockets, like smoke rising from a fire. Samyaza would be beautiful, if not for her perverted visage. A slender nose stands above a chiselled jawline, interceded by two full lips. Red ropes entangle her assortment of extremities, perhaps the only things to ever hold her back.

▽ Personalities
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things. - T.S Eliot

Samshiel - Pretender, charlatan, conniver. Samshiel the Blue gained many titles in the few centuries it has existed. A reflection of the world in which it sits, all creatures are mere mirrors to it. Their purpose, to reflect its best qualities, a measuring stick to compare itself to. Like books, people are used as tools of learning, leading to culture, virtue and ideals. Things which Samshiel can adopt with illusory powers.
Unnervingly attentive, Samshiel is a being of boundless curiosity. It obsesses over the honoured. People held in high esteem pique its interest the most. Questions and queries fly from its mind, unrelenting in their assault, pursuing excellence in all its forms. They are specimens to tinker with under its control, attempting to earn attention and admiration. Samshiel disregards the majority. If it believes itself to be better, Samshiel would scorn life itself. Why harvest a dying stock?. It is perhaps in its solitude, though, that the cracks in Samshiel begin to surface. Like a neglected child it pines in an urgent search for appreciation, a macabre cry hanging in the air as it writhes within itself. Above all, the Siren is simply the personification of conceit, a tormented divinity aching to be whole as the worlds it walks.

Samlatus - The Mountain is pragmatic, efficient and logical. He is the intellectual-cognitive and executive triplet. A man of mediation and realism, his shrewd, farsighted intuition serves as a chilling truth of his intent and just how capable he is of fulfilling it.
To Samlatus, his mission is paramount. Everything else is inconsequential. Blunt and apathetic, he is not even perceptive to the crushed civilisations left in his wake. He does not care for feeling nor motive when he simply does not need to know. People become obstacles, stones to be moved from his path. Their fates not even an afterthought in his inexorable plan. It is only without his kin that Samlatus begins to fray. An arbiter without conflict, a judge without a jury. Without his siblings thoughts filling his head, he hesitates. Losing his sense of the world around him as he tries to direct a ship with no sail. Given enough time Samlatus will try to find his lost relatives, to reunite the triad so they can once more tread the path of rebirth.

Samyaza - Erratic and disorganised the Red Maw is the paradigm of impulse. Wants, needs, desires, they all manifest in Samyaza and each is more voracious than the last. Frequently asking her brother if she can indulge herself, her greed is unending, her excess deficient, for even if the rain turned to blood, her thirst would not be slaked. She peers towards each and every object her hidden eyes can touch, a longing stare that can make the most trivial of items seem essential. Samyaza wishes to avoid all pain, all unpleasing events. The horrifying wail she lets loose is enough to crack bone and rupture organs, a vivid decree that she will not be interrupted in her repast.

▽ Hero Types
All three are supernatural beings

▽ Power Levels
Separated, each triplet can be considered on world level. However once they're all in unison they become a cosmic level threat

▽ Powers
Samshiel - A deceiver, an entity of understanding and vanity. Samshiel can conjure illusions, misconceptions and hallucinations that clouds the world around itself. It longs for perfection, to imprint the projected virtues of others unto itself. An imposter of the worlds design, Samshiel is capable of changing its own visage as well as those of her siblings, shrouding them from sight and mind.

Samlatus - The Mountain, an arbitrator. Samlatus mediates between his siblings, gifted at reading minds he acts as judge. With innate prescience and precognition he is forever one step ahead. He is the shield of the triplets, allowing them visions of what is to come, leading them through safer roads and preventing their undermining.

Samyaza - The Maw. Samyaza is the consumer, the devourer. She is able to eat almost all matter. A hunger, a lust to attain all that she sees and desires. Samyaza is the sword, the talon. Let loose she will ravage all that she sees fit and to anyone whom stands in her way a mindless animosity shall bloom. In times of anguish Samyaza is able to hurl her absorbed energies forth as beams of ruin, a dreadful reminder of her hegemony.

◇ The Triad - Together the triplets are a greater foe. Samshiels illusions become greater, further reaching. Samlatus plants his thoughts inside his siblings so as to use them like extensions of his own body. Samyazas vitality can be shared, energising her kin. Collectively the triplets are of a different mold, one much older, one much more powerful.

▽ Weaknesses
Samshiel - Being the most conscientious of the triplets, Samshiel, when it is separated from its kin, is not so different to a new born. It listens and watches the world around itself, learning and absorbing nature. Alone it is possible for someone to discern this quality, and they would be able to mold its behaviours to their liking. However, if one were to act in a manner they did not wish to see reciprocated, they might not live long enough to learn its intricacies.

Samlatus - The mediator triplet is a man of decision. He is fed by his siblings thoughts and emotions and from them determines action. Unattended Samlatus is a decider without decisions, an arbiter without conflict. He can grow quite docile without his kinship and will begin to hesitate, reverting to his baser instincts and acting as if he is inattentive.

Samyaza - There is no reason within Samyaza when unchecked. She looks for gratification in any and all urges she feels. She will begin to consume uncontrollably, switching her focus from one thing to the next in a gratuitous frenzy of pure craving. Alone Samyaza must only be directed, not stopped.

◇ The Triad - United the triplets atone for one anothers weaknesses. Samshiel and Samyaza are maelstroms of emotion whilst Samlatus neutralises their spirits until the three become cognisant divinities in their own right. The simple method for defeating the Triad is to prevent them from doing this. They must be separated, they must not be in balance, each can be defeated in detail but together they are a different beast. Not an enviable task.

▽ Attributes

▽ Sample Post

The rigid, statuesque creation craned forward dauntingly. A broken veil of silk pressed across its lachrymose mask lashed in the violent gale, revealing a sharp nose and emaciated jawline. Its dank grey skin wrapped around a skeletal body as shadows nestled between bulbous ribs. Each muscle, tendon and sinew stretched along a gaunt extended arm, ending with a lithe finger pointing towards its next sufferer. Towards Jason.
"I am the Siren you seek seafarer."

A repository for each of my characters. Please don't post on this thread but if you have questions or thoughts feel free to PM me. If you want to use one of my characters please get in touch, if you're just perusing I hope you like what I've got!
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