Nano
procrastination symphony
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Nano
procrastination symphony
basic info
backstory
proficiency
Kokuyo
黒曜石
code by Nano
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Dawnsx
Majestic Dinosaur
- Name
Gojo Asaka
五常 朝霞
Gender
Male
Age
20
Clan
Gojo
Steve Jobs
Died of ligma
Relationships and appearance description still a wip
basic info
backstory
proficiency
Kazetani Tsurugi
風谷剣
code by Nano
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Arnalia
Member
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OldTurtle
Shells Are Nice
Basic Information
Name: Shūzen | 萩善
Gender: Male
Age: 237
Race: Yokai (Shōjō)
Appearance
Faceclaim:
Source
Height: 7'7" (~231 cm)
Hair Color: Varying White and Grey
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Extra Features: Prehensile Tail
Personality
If one were to sum up Shūzen in a single phrase, it would be "old but gold." Only he maintained he wasn't that old and no one had ever likened him to gold. Burnished bronze, at best. But despite his growing years and lack of glitter, Shūzen is as lively and passionate a yokai as any other. A heavy drinker and heavier partier, he is boisterous and limitlessly gregarious. Lifelong friendships can be - and have been - struck up over a shared cup of sake or two. He still recognizes his limits, expansive as they may be, and is very careful to never drink to excess, though Shōjō standards of "excess" differ greatly from normal ones.
In his youth, Shūzen was very different. The very picture of delinquency, he was short-tempered, arrogant, and too ambitious for his own good. But age has tempered that, humbling his conceit with an understanding of his place in the world - a small fish in a tiny pond. Shūzen found there was little reason to worry so much about the destination of his life rather than the journey. Everything that lives must eventually die. The thought of spending his years laboring toward a fleeting goal leaves a sour taste in his mouth, one that no amount of sake can wash away. And so, Shūzen lives in the moment. Though he begrudgingly admits this includes indulging himself in ways others may not approve of, he cares little for what others think of him. Shūzen understands himself best, virtues and vices alike. And he has many of each.
Shūzen is a patient, understanding man. He finds it difficult to hold a grudge for longer than it takes to get his next drink and is always willing to provide an nonjudgmental ear to those who need it. Some question whether that's an active decision or if he's just so perpetually drunk his memory and attention span are shot. Regardless, Shūzen sails along at his own pace, uncaring of the world around him, but is unresistant to being steered in a certain direction when caught in a good mood - and he almost always is, so long as he isn't entirely sober.
But a lengthy fuse belies the size of the explosive at its end. For all his patience, Shūzen still has his limits. Hints of that youthful belligerence dwell beneath the surface. And as with most flames, applying enough alcohol intensifies the blaze. Thankfully, his tolerance for drink and self-control have grown with age and Shūzen rarely finds himself over-drinking to such an extent. To most, he remains a loud and occasionally irritating, but ultimately harmless, yokai with an unhealthy fondness for sake.
Background
The Shōjō are a race of yokai found all across the coastlines of Kouka, living in loose, isolated communities. They are a frivolous, individualistic people, with no strict organization to speak of. While Shōjō from the same community may often come together to drink and dance, each yokai is ultimately responsible for themselves, even from youth. The Shōjō mentality is that if one is old enough to drink, they are old enough to look after themselves. And Shōjō mature rapidly, reaching full adulthood in a matter of years but participating in their characteristic parties - drunken revels and all - from early childhood.
Shūzen hails from one such community on the western coast of Genbu. A small group composed of at most two dozen Shōjō, he was the only juvenile in the entire community. Though few major distinctions are made between the youth and elderly among Shōjō - brewing skill and drinking records being the most notable exceptions -, Shōjō of similar ages tend to gravitate together and form closer bonds. Shūzen was consequently often alone, and without the skill to brew enough alcohol to spend his days in a drunken haze, his only companions were his thoughts.
A young Shūzen thought and imagined and dreamed a great many things. He thought about the world beyond that lonely beach. He imagined a land of towering, icy mountains and vast, grassy plains. He dreamed of a life of adventure and energy, a life more interesting than sitting on a beach scratching lonely characters into the sand and watching tubs ferment. But at the end of every day, he returned to stark reality and stood to tip over another vat of ingredients, spilling its failed contents among the sand and stones.
Even as he grew older and his fledgling brewing skills flourished, those dreams lingered in the back of his mind. The parties and perpetual drunkenness helped dull them. Old enough now to supply himself with liquor to stay inebrieted every hour of every day, Shūzen was the ideal Shōjō: drunk and happy.
A few years past thirty, Shūzen finally succeeded at brewing the most difficult of Shōjō recipes: the sacred wine. It was the most valued of their alcohols and often acclaimed as the peak of their brewing techniques. Shūzen had taken well to the process and was younger than most upon his first successful vat, despite his slow start with brewing. His achievement was a heady, prideful feeling even before taking a single sip, incomparable to anything he'd ever experience before.
That first sip eclipsed it immediately.
There has never been, and never will be, a state of euphoria more intense than what Shūzen experienced as those first few drops of sacred wine slipped down his throat. It was perfection. The first mouthful took an eternity to drink. Each successive one was faster and faster. In under ten minutes, Shūzen had drained half a vat of alcohol. The young yokai took off across the beach in leaps and bounds, his skin and hair flushing a bright red. He danced and sang for the next seven hours tirelessly, his sounds attracting more and more Shōjō nearby. Each drank from the vat and joined him in revelry, celebrating the success of their youngest member.
Despite his youth, Shūzen was now a fully fledged Shōjō. His parties inflated in scale to match the resulting inflation to his ego and Shūzen began to brew sacred wine almost exclusively, drinking to excess even by Shōjō standards. Quickly, his heavy drinking grew beyond a youthful attribute to a cause for concern. Shūzen became too proud, too arrogant and the sacred wine inflamed an already-short temper. During gatherings, he frequently quarrelled drunkenly with his elders, dismissing them as if somehow superior. After one such incident nearly came to blows, things needed to change.
And so they did, regardless of Shūzen's thoughts on the matter. But the Shōjō have never been an organized sort, always preferring to allow their people to do as they please. Even with their youth they were hands-off, and everything a young Shōjō learned was learnt through imitation of their elders. They had no system in place to dole out punishments or police misbehavior, nor had they ever needed one - Shōjō would much rather throw another party than extend conflicts. Instead, the other Shōjō slowly drew back, devising ways and excuses to avoid contact with Shūzen. His presence dampened the usual festive mood at parties and he often drank alone even with others around, until even those gatherings stopped including him. In the short span of four years, Shūzen once again sat on his stretch of sandy beach, just as painfully alone as he'd been thirty years ago.
Unlike in his youth, however, Shūzen didn't resort to fantasies of a better time. No, he already knew where that was, tasted it in the bottom of a bottle and felt it by dancing through the night. And it was being taken from him. Still consuming wine by the bottle, Shūzen refused to see his isolated for the retribution it was. He gave in anger and spite instead. He refused to stay here any longer, alone and unwelcome. Infuriated beyond reason and clouded by liquor, Shūzen gathered what few possessions he had and abandoned his beach - a previously unheard of act for a Shōjō.
And so Shūzen's long journey began, with little more than a few bottles of sacred wine and the clothes on his back.
Shūzen first traveled south, trading in the sand and stone of western Genbu for rivers and great swaths of grass. He spent close to a decade there, traveling between villages and using his brewing skills to keep himself supplied with alcohol (occasionally also trading some for coin or goods when necessary). During his stay in southern Genbu, Shūzen came across a number of villages dwarfing the Shōjō settlement in size. The yokai he'd spoken and drank with there introduced him to a world much vaster than his tiny beach. They told tale of dense forests so large it could take weeks to cross on foot and fields of snow and ice that blinded at sunrise. Shūzen could hardly believe his ears, and he spent many of these years gathering stories and maps until a solid image of Kouka had formed in his mind. But quickly enough, he grew bored. While the change in scenery and new experiences had been fun enough to keep him entertained for a handful of years, they still paled in comparison to the drunken revelries of the Shōjō. And so he gathered his things and once more began to walk, in search of something new to draw his interest.
This time, Shūzen trekked north to the capital of Genbu, Mt. Kasumi. Despite the frigid atmosphere - a stark contrast from the south's river valleys and the west's beaches - he stayed here for just over thirty years. Among other things, this is where Shūzen first learnt to gamble. It was also where he was first fleeced for everything he owned, though it certainly wouldn't be the last. Over the next three decades, Shūzen shifted between gambling and (attempting) to recoup his losses in the city and making brief forays further north, into the icy tundra ahead. Neither task went very well. Shūzen always lost more than he ever won and each trek into the snow always ended with rebuffed by the freezing temperatures and unnavigable snowstorms.
Even so, Shūzen loved northern Genbu. Yet another fresh experience, and this one presented him with two distinct challenges to busy himself with. The thirty years passed in the blink of an eye, and though he'd still made little headway towards either of his goals, Shūzen could feel that it was time to move on. Of course, that he was perpetually broke and there was so little to brew with so far north had nothing to do with that decision.
Shūzen did not enjoy Seiryu. Though the land was beautiful, the people were among the most boring he'd ever met. There was a perpetual tension in the air, thick enough to cut with knife and enjoy with a nice cup of sake. Shūzen always felt as if he were treading on eggshells. The wine he brewed here tasted sour, better fit to water the earth than his mouth. The sole value Shūzen found in the paltry five years spent here was the human settlements. It was his first experience with humans, though tensions still ran high and his interactions were limited to trade. Humans were an interesting bunch, Shūzen decided. Too hasty and rather prickly for his tastes, but uniquely distinct from the yokai he knew. Interesting, but not quite enough to keep in a land so uncomfortable.
The last of the yokai provinces Shūzen visited was Byakko. The people of Byakko, much like those of Seiryu, hardly appreciated his presence. Unlike Seiryu, however, there was no thin film of deceit concealing those thoughts and Shūzen found himself rather appreciative of the frank honesty in their distrust. It took over two decades of plying villages with freely-given alcohol and losing far too many games of ban-sugoroku to finally be accepted - and even then, Shūzen's presence was still very much fragile.
But Byakko was livelier than Genbu or Seiryu had ever been and Shūzen found himself truly enjoying the province. Forty-five years he spent in Byakko, drinking and gambling and learning from those around him. One older yokai taught him several new sake recipes, another to play the biwa, and a third instructed him in martial arts. Of the latter, Shūzen took particularly well to. The large, dexterous frames of Shōjō lent well to combat, something the peaceful yokai had never bothered to pick up.
The familiar atmosphere and Shūzen's outstanding growth brought back several bad habits. Over the decades, he'd been forced to cut back on his consumption of sacred wine - largely because of how much large a time commitment brewing it took and a lack of ingredients - and make do with weaker, less intoxicating alcohols. The temper that drove him from his home had cooled slightly and Shūzen matured in the ways that all people must. But now, better settled in Byakko, he began to indulge himself once more.
History repeats itself and Shūzen allowed the liquor to pour straight into the reservoir of his ego. He got into more and more fights, winning each without exception and grew prouder. He thought himself a talented warrior, as if a strong body and middling skills were enough to qualify. And every warrior needed a battle to prove themself. He turned his sights on what many considered to be one of the greatest enemies of the yokai: humans. Refusing to heed the advice of his friends and teachers, Shūzen took his staff and went out in search of a worthy enemy.
What he found were the onmyoji.
Shūzen returned defeated and on the brink of death, a blade through his chest and head hung low. Shūzen hid himself away, forlorn and shameful. He spent months licking his wounds and managed to narrowly survive, though not without his scars. He was weak, and the onmyoji had shown him that, besting him with strange weapons and magics that overwhelmed the Shōjō near effortlessly. His inflated ego popped like a balloon, leaving behind an empty void of self-doubt as crushing as his pride had been elating.
Confined to a bed after his brush with death, Shūzen was forced to do with the one thing he'd been avoiding for the past eighty-some years: reflect. With little pride left to shield him from his shortcomings, the foolish yokai cursed himself, cursed his arrogance and his hubris, cursed his cowardice and knew that once again, things had to change.
And so they did, this time by Shūzen's own will. Once he'd fully recovered, the yokai gathered his things, bid farewell to Byakko, and departed on the last leg of his long journey: home.
The coastline was much the same as it was decades prior. The same sand and stone, the same oceans and trees and sun. But as Shūzen arrived at home after so long, one thing had changed. Several children - small, hairy Shōjō no higher Shūzen's knees scrambled across the beaches, kicking up sand and howling with laughter. They stopped, watching as the strange yokai dressed so unusually, as he passed by. Shūzen paid the children no mind, returning to the stretch of beach he'd claimed as his own as a child to find it untouched.
Shūzen spent the entire first day brewing wine. Not the sacred wine, but a sweet, delicious sake he'd learned in Byakko. That night, he'd carried jugs of the liquor down the coast to the gathering spot he remembered, where a party had already begun. The elder Shōjō - fewer in number than he remembered - stopped their festivities and watched his arrival. Shūzen poured each a cup of his wine. They drank, and Shūzen returned home with little fanfare.
In the century since his return, Shūzen adopted the position of mentor among the Shōjō. He taught each new generation of Shōjō children brewing and dancing and more, eventually becoming one of the most elder in the community and even having a hand in establishing connections and trade with Genbu at large.
When he first heard tell of the kyonshi, Shūzen knew something ominous was abound. And so he he placed his staff beside his wine and waited. Soon enough, tidings arrived from Mt. Kasumi. The yokai and human worlds had bridged their differences to form a "Special Investigations Unit" to combat the kyonshi problem and were finding yokai to recruit.
Despite his age, Shūzen took his staff and answered the call. As for why? Perhaps though the other Shōjō appeared to have forgiven his faults, Shūzen always remembered. The memories of his mistakes drive him to never repeat them, and to work to protect those around him. Or maybe deep down, Shūzen still harbors that same youthful desire for challenge, the hunger to prove himself in battle. He hardly cares about the difference.
Proficiency
Weapon of Choice:
Shūzen's sole weapon is a eight foot long staff made from treated hardwood and reinforced with durable iron bands and caps on either end. It, like many of his properties, was won in a game of ban-sugoroku. In truth, its previous owner must have been keen to part ways with it, for the staff's great size and iron pieces makes it too cumbersome for most to wield. Aside from its reliable construction, his staff has no other impressive properties and no enchantments.
Specialty:
While far from the most violent of yokai, Shūzen is an adept warrior. The inherent physique of a Shōjō grants him strength far beyond that of any mortal man and, when combined with decades of experience with bōjutsu, acts as a fearsome weapon in battle. Even bare-handed, he is capable of rending human flesh to shreds. In addition to his incredible strength, Shūzen possesses keen senses and agility undulled even by the large quantities of alcohol he consumes daily. Even his thick coat of hair shields his body from injuries to a minor extent.
In sharp contrast to his usual demeanor, Shūzen is a methodical combatant. He fights with the utmost efficiency, choosing not to waste a single motion or breath. Taking no pleasure in battle (and finding drinking to be a much more enjoyable use of his time) he exploits any percieved weaknesses or opportunity if it means bringing about a rapid end to the fight. Shūzen always advises an appropriate response to a serious situation - and there is no more serious a situation than one where a life is on the line.
The Shōjō are not a yokai known for their skill in yojutsu, being drinkers and partiers without exception. For a species who largely lives life lackadaisically, there is little to be gained from dipping their toes into yojutsu. That being said, the centuries have imparted on the Shōjō a rather unusual skill. Considering how much alcohol the Shōjō drink daily, it follows they'd need a steady supply that would never run dry. Of course, unless they also acquired an endless source of wealth, they'd have no way to purchase that supply even if it did exist. So they turned to the most obvious choice: brewery.
The Shōjō have since passed down an array recipes to every member of every generation, among them being a recipe for a powerful, heady sake referred to as "sacred wine" distilled from the most common of ingredients, seawater. Besides its intoxicating influence, this wine has a few notable effects. When consumed by a Shōjō such as Shūzen, the wine works temporary changes on their body. Shūzen's dark skin and pale hair both color to a similar shade of resplendent red and he is overcome by a massive surge in strength and speed. If he was powerful before, now Shūzen is truly the picture of a fearsome yokai, capable of splitting steel and tearing through a dozen men effortlessly. In turn, his senses dull and mind clouds with emotion, opening Shūzen up to countless counterattacks that otherwise would never be possible. The intoxicating strength the wine grants is incomparably addictive, despite the dangers it poses. An over-reliance on the wine during a few youthful indiscretions has left the aged yokai with more than a few scars, and now he limits its use whenever possible.
In addition, the sacred wine is rather difficult to come by, as only a Shōjō may brew it. The recipe is far from a secret - the yokai not being the sort to worry too much about secrets - yet only when brewed (and drunk) by a Shōjō does the wine exhibit its supernatural effects. When contacted by anyone else, the wine proves to be highly toxic to consumption. It can only be produced by Shōjō, for Shōjō, and as it serves no purpose for anyone else, it is never exported. Since Shūzen's current needs are fairly unique among Shōjō, what little supply he has available is what he is able to brew himself - not an easy feat without a large supply of seawater and spades of free time.
Skills:
Brewing - All Shōjō are, without exception, masterful brewers, capable of distilling some of the most powerful alcohols in all the land. That they can brew something tolerable from sea water speaks magnitudes as to their skills. Shūzen is among the older, and thus more experienced, of Shōjō and is particularly well-versed at produced strong drinks. Whether or not they taste very good is an entirely separate matter.
Gambling - Shūzen is an skilled gambler. After being fleeced for all his money in his youth, his pride and stubbornness demanded he master the art. However, he had absolutely no affinity for gambling and it took over a full century for Shūzen to succeed. But his hard work has paid off and now his experience makes him a formidable foe in any game of chance.
Smithing - A skill he's picked up over the years, Shūzen is a adept metalsmith. While he would need the correct equipment - such as tools and a forge or furnace - to produce anything, his skills are enough to perform upkeep on his staff while on the road. Considering the large size and uncommon design of his staff and how he'd be hard-pressed to find a suitable replacement on short notice, Shūzen prefers to keep it in pristine condition himself.
Name: Shūzen | 萩善
Gender: Male
Age: 237
Race: Yokai (Shōjō)
Appearance
Faceclaim:
Source
Height: 7'7" (~231 cm)
Hair Color: Varying White and Grey
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Extra Features: Prehensile Tail
Personality
If one were to sum up Shūzen in a single phrase, it would be "old but gold." Only he maintained he wasn't that old and no one had ever likened him to gold. Burnished bronze, at best. But despite his growing years and lack of glitter, Shūzen is as lively and passionate a yokai as any other. A heavy drinker and heavier partier, he is boisterous and limitlessly gregarious. Lifelong friendships can be - and have been - struck up over a shared cup of sake or two. He still recognizes his limits, expansive as they may be, and is very careful to never drink to excess, though Shōjō standards of "excess" differ greatly from normal ones.
In his youth, Shūzen was very different. The very picture of delinquency, he was short-tempered, arrogant, and too ambitious for his own good. But age has tempered that, humbling his conceit with an understanding of his place in the world - a small fish in a tiny pond. Shūzen found there was little reason to worry so much about the destination of his life rather than the journey. Everything that lives must eventually die. The thought of spending his years laboring toward a fleeting goal leaves a sour taste in his mouth, one that no amount of sake can wash away. And so, Shūzen lives in the moment. Though he begrudgingly admits this includes indulging himself in ways others may not approve of, he cares little for what others think of him. Shūzen understands himself best, virtues and vices alike. And he has many of each.
Shūzen is a patient, understanding man. He finds it difficult to hold a grudge for longer than it takes to get his next drink and is always willing to provide an nonjudgmental ear to those who need it. Some question whether that's an active decision or if he's just so perpetually drunk his memory and attention span are shot. Regardless, Shūzen sails along at his own pace, uncaring of the world around him, but is unresistant to being steered in a certain direction when caught in a good mood - and he almost always is, so long as he isn't entirely sober.
But a lengthy fuse belies the size of the explosive at its end. For all his patience, Shūzen still has his limits. Hints of that youthful belligerence dwell beneath the surface. And as with most flames, applying enough alcohol intensifies the blaze. Thankfully, his tolerance for drink and self-control have grown with age and Shūzen rarely finds himself over-drinking to such an extent. To most, he remains a loud and occasionally irritating, but ultimately harmless, yokai with an unhealthy fondness for sake.
Background
The Shōjō are a race of yokai found all across the coastlines of Kouka, living in loose, isolated communities. They are a frivolous, individualistic people, with no strict organization to speak of. While Shōjō from the same community may often come together to drink and dance, each yokai is ultimately responsible for themselves, even from youth. The Shōjō mentality is that if one is old enough to drink, they are old enough to look after themselves. And Shōjō mature rapidly, reaching full adulthood in a matter of years but participating in their characteristic parties - drunken revels and all - from early childhood.
Shūzen hails from one such community on the western coast of Genbu. A small group composed of at most two dozen Shōjō, he was the only juvenile in the entire community. Though few major distinctions are made between the youth and elderly among Shōjō - brewing skill and drinking records being the most notable exceptions -, Shōjō of similar ages tend to gravitate together and form closer bonds. Shūzen was consequently often alone, and without the skill to brew enough alcohol to spend his days in a drunken haze, his only companions were his thoughts.
A young Shūzen thought and imagined and dreamed a great many things. He thought about the world beyond that lonely beach. He imagined a land of towering, icy mountains and vast, grassy plains. He dreamed of a life of adventure and energy, a life more interesting than sitting on a beach scratching lonely characters into the sand and watching tubs ferment. But at the end of every day, he returned to stark reality and stood to tip over another vat of ingredients, spilling its failed contents among the sand and stones.
Even as he grew older and his fledgling brewing skills flourished, those dreams lingered in the back of his mind. The parties and perpetual drunkenness helped dull them. Old enough now to supply himself with liquor to stay inebrieted every hour of every day, Shūzen was the ideal Shōjō: drunk and happy.
A few years past thirty, Shūzen finally succeeded at brewing the most difficult of Shōjō recipes: the sacred wine. It was the most valued of their alcohols and often acclaimed as the peak of their brewing techniques. Shūzen had taken well to the process and was younger than most upon his first successful vat, despite his slow start with brewing. His achievement was a heady, prideful feeling even before taking a single sip, incomparable to anything he'd ever experience before.
That first sip eclipsed it immediately.
There has never been, and never will be, a state of euphoria more intense than what Shūzen experienced as those first few drops of sacred wine slipped down his throat. It was perfection. The first mouthful took an eternity to drink. Each successive one was faster and faster. In under ten minutes, Shūzen had drained half a vat of alcohol. The young yokai took off across the beach in leaps and bounds, his skin and hair flushing a bright red. He danced and sang for the next seven hours tirelessly, his sounds attracting more and more Shōjō nearby. Each drank from the vat and joined him in revelry, celebrating the success of their youngest member.
Despite his youth, Shūzen was now a fully fledged Shōjō. His parties inflated in scale to match the resulting inflation to his ego and Shūzen began to brew sacred wine almost exclusively, drinking to excess even by Shōjō standards. Quickly, his heavy drinking grew beyond a youthful attribute to a cause for concern. Shūzen became too proud, too arrogant and the sacred wine inflamed an already-short temper. During gatherings, he frequently quarrelled drunkenly with his elders, dismissing them as if somehow superior. After one such incident nearly came to blows, things needed to change.
And so they did, regardless of Shūzen's thoughts on the matter. But the Shōjō have never been an organized sort, always preferring to allow their people to do as they please. Even with their youth they were hands-off, and everything a young Shōjō learned was learnt through imitation of their elders. They had no system in place to dole out punishments or police misbehavior, nor had they ever needed one - Shōjō would much rather throw another party than extend conflicts. Instead, the other Shōjō slowly drew back, devising ways and excuses to avoid contact with Shūzen. His presence dampened the usual festive mood at parties and he often drank alone even with others around, until even those gatherings stopped including him. In the short span of four years, Shūzen once again sat on his stretch of sandy beach, just as painfully alone as he'd been thirty years ago.
Unlike in his youth, however, Shūzen didn't resort to fantasies of a better time. No, he already knew where that was, tasted it in the bottom of a bottle and felt it by dancing through the night. And it was being taken from him. Still consuming wine by the bottle, Shūzen refused to see his isolated for the retribution it was. He gave in anger and spite instead. He refused to stay here any longer, alone and unwelcome. Infuriated beyond reason and clouded by liquor, Shūzen gathered what few possessions he had and abandoned his beach - a previously unheard of act for a Shōjō.
And so Shūzen's long journey began, with little more than a few bottles of sacred wine and the clothes on his back.
Shūzen first traveled south, trading in the sand and stone of western Genbu for rivers and great swaths of grass. He spent close to a decade there, traveling between villages and using his brewing skills to keep himself supplied with alcohol (occasionally also trading some for coin or goods when necessary). During his stay in southern Genbu, Shūzen came across a number of villages dwarfing the Shōjō settlement in size. The yokai he'd spoken and drank with there introduced him to a world much vaster than his tiny beach. They told tale of dense forests so large it could take weeks to cross on foot and fields of snow and ice that blinded at sunrise. Shūzen could hardly believe his ears, and he spent many of these years gathering stories and maps until a solid image of Kouka had formed in his mind. But quickly enough, he grew bored. While the change in scenery and new experiences had been fun enough to keep him entertained for a handful of years, they still paled in comparison to the drunken revelries of the Shōjō. And so he gathered his things and once more began to walk, in search of something new to draw his interest.
This time, Shūzen trekked north to the capital of Genbu, Mt. Kasumi. Despite the frigid atmosphere - a stark contrast from the south's river valleys and the west's beaches - he stayed here for just over thirty years. Among other things, this is where Shūzen first learnt to gamble. It was also where he was first fleeced for everything he owned, though it certainly wouldn't be the last. Over the next three decades, Shūzen shifted between gambling and (attempting) to recoup his losses in the city and making brief forays further north, into the icy tundra ahead. Neither task went very well. Shūzen always lost more than he ever won and each trek into the snow always ended with rebuffed by the freezing temperatures and unnavigable snowstorms.
Even so, Shūzen loved northern Genbu. Yet another fresh experience, and this one presented him with two distinct challenges to busy himself with. The thirty years passed in the blink of an eye, and though he'd still made little headway towards either of his goals, Shūzen could feel that it was time to move on. Of course, that he was perpetually broke and there was so little to brew with so far north had nothing to do with that decision.
Shūzen did not enjoy Seiryu. Though the land was beautiful, the people were among the most boring he'd ever met. There was a perpetual tension in the air, thick enough to cut with knife and enjoy with a nice cup of sake. Shūzen always felt as if he were treading on eggshells. The wine he brewed here tasted sour, better fit to water the earth than his mouth. The sole value Shūzen found in the paltry five years spent here was the human settlements. It was his first experience with humans, though tensions still ran high and his interactions were limited to trade. Humans were an interesting bunch, Shūzen decided. Too hasty and rather prickly for his tastes, but uniquely distinct from the yokai he knew. Interesting, but not quite enough to keep in a land so uncomfortable.
The last of the yokai provinces Shūzen visited was Byakko. The people of Byakko, much like those of Seiryu, hardly appreciated his presence. Unlike Seiryu, however, there was no thin film of deceit concealing those thoughts and Shūzen found himself rather appreciative of the frank honesty in their distrust. It took over two decades of plying villages with freely-given alcohol and losing far too many games of ban-sugoroku to finally be accepted - and even then, Shūzen's presence was still very much fragile.
But Byakko was livelier than Genbu or Seiryu had ever been and Shūzen found himself truly enjoying the province. Forty-five years he spent in Byakko, drinking and gambling and learning from those around him. One older yokai taught him several new sake recipes, another to play the biwa, and a third instructed him in martial arts. Of the latter, Shūzen took particularly well to. The large, dexterous frames of Shōjō lent well to combat, something the peaceful yokai had never bothered to pick up.
The familiar atmosphere and Shūzen's outstanding growth brought back several bad habits. Over the decades, he'd been forced to cut back on his consumption of sacred wine - largely because of how much large a time commitment brewing it took and a lack of ingredients - and make do with weaker, less intoxicating alcohols. The temper that drove him from his home had cooled slightly and Shūzen matured in the ways that all people must. But now, better settled in Byakko, he began to indulge himself once more.
History repeats itself and Shūzen allowed the liquor to pour straight into the reservoir of his ego. He got into more and more fights, winning each without exception and grew prouder. He thought himself a talented warrior, as if a strong body and middling skills were enough to qualify. And every warrior needed a battle to prove themself. He turned his sights on what many considered to be one of the greatest enemies of the yokai: humans. Refusing to heed the advice of his friends and teachers, Shūzen took his staff and went out in search of a worthy enemy.
What he found were the onmyoji.
Shūzen returned defeated and on the brink of death, a blade through his chest and head hung low. Shūzen hid himself away, forlorn and shameful. He spent months licking his wounds and managed to narrowly survive, though not without his scars. He was weak, and the onmyoji had shown him that, besting him with strange weapons and magics that overwhelmed the Shōjō near effortlessly. His inflated ego popped like a balloon, leaving behind an empty void of self-doubt as crushing as his pride had been elating.
Confined to a bed after his brush with death, Shūzen was forced to do with the one thing he'd been avoiding for the past eighty-some years: reflect. With little pride left to shield him from his shortcomings, the foolish yokai cursed himself, cursed his arrogance and his hubris, cursed his cowardice and knew that once again, things had to change.
And so they did, this time by Shūzen's own will. Once he'd fully recovered, the yokai gathered his things, bid farewell to Byakko, and departed on the last leg of his long journey: home.
The coastline was much the same as it was decades prior. The same sand and stone, the same oceans and trees and sun. But as Shūzen arrived at home after so long, one thing had changed. Several children - small, hairy Shōjō no higher Shūzen's knees scrambled across the beaches, kicking up sand and howling with laughter. They stopped, watching as the strange yokai dressed so unusually, as he passed by. Shūzen paid the children no mind, returning to the stretch of beach he'd claimed as his own as a child to find it untouched.
Shūzen spent the entire first day brewing wine. Not the sacred wine, but a sweet, delicious sake he'd learned in Byakko. That night, he'd carried jugs of the liquor down the coast to the gathering spot he remembered, where a party had already begun. The elder Shōjō - fewer in number than he remembered - stopped their festivities and watched his arrival. Shūzen poured each a cup of his wine. They drank, and Shūzen returned home with little fanfare.
In the century since his return, Shūzen adopted the position of mentor among the Shōjō. He taught each new generation of Shōjō children brewing and dancing and more, eventually becoming one of the most elder in the community and even having a hand in establishing connections and trade with Genbu at large.
When he first heard tell of the kyonshi, Shūzen knew something ominous was abound. And so he he placed his staff beside his wine and waited. Soon enough, tidings arrived from Mt. Kasumi. The yokai and human worlds had bridged their differences to form a "Special Investigations Unit" to combat the kyonshi problem and were finding yokai to recruit.
Despite his age, Shūzen took his staff and answered the call. As for why? Perhaps though the other Shōjō appeared to have forgiven his faults, Shūzen always remembered. The memories of his mistakes drive him to never repeat them, and to work to protect those around him. Or maybe deep down, Shūzen still harbors that same youthful desire for challenge, the hunger to prove himself in battle. He hardly cares about the difference.
Proficiency
Weapon of Choice:
Shūzen's sole weapon is a eight foot long staff made from treated hardwood and reinforced with durable iron bands and caps on either end. It, like many of his properties, was won in a game of ban-sugoroku. In truth, its previous owner must have been keen to part ways with it, for the staff's great size and iron pieces makes it too cumbersome for most to wield. Aside from its reliable construction, his staff has no other impressive properties and no enchantments.
Specialty:
While far from the most violent of yokai, Shūzen is an adept warrior. The inherent physique of a Shōjō grants him strength far beyond that of any mortal man and, when combined with decades of experience with bōjutsu, acts as a fearsome weapon in battle. Even bare-handed, he is capable of rending human flesh to shreds. In addition to his incredible strength, Shūzen possesses keen senses and agility undulled even by the large quantities of alcohol he consumes daily. Even his thick coat of hair shields his body from injuries to a minor extent.
In sharp contrast to his usual demeanor, Shūzen is a methodical combatant. He fights with the utmost efficiency, choosing not to waste a single motion or breath. Taking no pleasure in battle (and finding drinking to be a much more enjoyable use of his time) he exploits any percieved weaknesses or opportunity if it means bringing about a rapid end to the fight. Shūzen always advises an appropriate response to a serious situation - and there is no more serious a situation than one where a life is on the line.
The Shōjō are not a yokai known for their skill in yojutsu, being drinkers and partiers without exception. For a species who largely lives life lackadaisically, there is little to be gained from dipping their toes into yojutsu. That being said, the centuries have imparted on the Shōjō a rather unusual skill. Considering how much alcohol the Shōjō drink daily, it follows they'd need a steady supply that would never run dry. Of course, unless they also acquired an endless source of wealth, they'd have no way to purchase that supply even if it did exist. So they turned to the most obvious choice: brewery.
The Shōjō have since passed down an array recipes to every member of every generation, among them being a recipe for a powerful, heady sake referred to as "sacred wine" distilled from the most common of ingredients, seawater. Besides its intoxicating influence, this wine has a few notable effects. When consumed by a Shōjō such as Shūzen, the wine works temporary changes on their body. Shūzen's dark skin and pale hair both color to a similar shade of resplendent red and he is overcome by a massive surge in strength and speed. If he was powerful before, now Shūzen is truly the picture of a fearsome yokai, capable of splitting steel and tearing through a dozen men effortlessly. In turn, his senses dull and mind clouds with emotion, opening Shūzen up to countless counterattacks that otherwise would never be possible. The intoxicating strength the wine grants is incomparably addictive, despite the dangers it poses. An over-reliance on the wine during a few youthful indiscretions has left the aged yokai with more than a few scars, and now he limits its use whenever possible.
In addition, the sacred wine is rather difficult to come by, as only a Shōjō may brew it. The recipe is far from a secret - the yokai not being the sort to worry too much about secrets - yet only when brewed (and drunk) by a Shōjō does the wine exhibit its supernatural effects. When contacted by anyone else, the wine proves to be highly toxic to consumption. It can only be produced by Shōjō, for Shōjō, and as it serves no purpose for anyone else, it is never exported. Since Shūzen's current needs are fairly unique among Shōjō, what little supply he has available is what he is able to brew himself - not an easy feat without a large supply of seawater and spades of free time.
Skills:
Brewing - All Shōjō are, without exception, masterful brewers, capable of distilling some of the most powerful alcohols in all the land. That they can brew something tolerable from sea water speaks magnitudes as to their skills. Shūzen is among the older, and thus more experienced, of Shōjō and is particularly well-versed at produced strong drinks. Whether or not they taste very good is an entirely separate matter.
Gambling - Shūzen is an skilled gambler. After being fleeced for all his money in his youth, his pride and stubbornness demanded he master the art. However, he had absolutely no affinity for gambling and it took over a full century for Shūzen to succeed. But his hard work has paid off and now his experience makes him a formidable foe in any game of chance.
Smithing - A skill he's picked up over the years, Shūzen is a adept metalsmith. While he would need the correct equipment - such as tools and a forge or furnace - to produce anything, his skills are enough to perform upkeep on his staff while on the road. Considering the large size and uncommon design of his staff and how he'd be hard-pressed to find a suitable replacement on short notice, Shūzen prefers to keep it in pristine condition himself.
nios
𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯
basic info
backstory
proficiency
Tsukiko
月娘
code by Nano
Sunsmiter
And RNGesus said: "On the Seventh roll, death."
Name: Eiyuu-Ou
Nicknames/Aliases: Eiyuu, the Shrine Guardian
Gender: Neutral(technically)
Age: Unknown, a few centuries at least
Race: Tatsu
Clan: N/A
Appearance:
Faceclaim: Pinterest
Height: 6ft 6
Hair Color: Pale
Eye Color: Gold
Extra Features: Antlers, scales, wings and a tail(although commonly hidden)
General Description: Eiyuu is tall, lankly and slender in human form, commonly seen with flowing robes, long pale hair and golden eyes. They can’t hide their antlers or draconian features very well, but still makes an attempt to cover it up with robes and garments.
Personality: Serene and neutral, this spirit has the disposition of a saint. One may wonder how they came to be, but their reason, if twisted, is sincere. They are nature's reclamation, the fury and rot of a wronged saint. Eiyuu is not easily provoked, rarely even judging one side or another. They dislike needless fighting, believing instead in balance and neutrality.
Background: They rose from a torn orchard nourished by the wails of the fallen. They were born from a tainted river that ran so thick with blood that fishes choked to death on the gore. Striding through the ruins of a once magnificent orchard, the earth torn and ravaged by both man and beast, the sins of the ancestors burned the souls of the fathers. They walked through fury's embrace, the child of springtime who arrived too late, far too late to stop them, far too late to even mourn.
And as such was their nature. Wandering, travelling. Visiting torn-apart hamlets and plundered fishing villages, the travelling monk's nurturing nature always bringing them to the weak, or perhaps drawing the weak to them. They did not want to bring carnage, to bring misfortune, yet their very touch was bile. For the harbinger of plague to walk within a village, one may know plague and misfortune was soon to follow. The cold eyes of onmyoji that sealed them away saw a monster who would cradle an stillborn child, whispering to it a few words of comfort for the dead yet letting them die just the same. A monster whose very laughter was a curse, whose existence was a burden, the shrine guardian of a forgotten monastery where nature reigned supreme.
To put it simply, Eiyuu does not care. They seek the weak both to protect them yet to end the runts who were not meant to live. They are both kind, yet cruel. Run. Flee. Be a demon, a saint, a god, a king. It matters not. Death will not care, and neither will Eiyuu, as such is the law of nature. They are sometimes seen as emotionless and almost cruel, when it is simply due to their rather...eccentric worldview.
Their travels would bring them to a monastery, where they would spend years as a shrine guardian(or at least fancying themself to be one), guarding rivers and ponds they saw fit for their attention. While they may have been loyal, and endless, their companions were not. When a shrine would vanish, out of old age or simply out of negligence, the shrine guardian would move on, carrying with them the burdens of misfortune. Their wanderings would eventually lead them here, an anchor that kept them tethered, not simply just one forgotten ghost occasionally seem in glimpses of misfortune.
Relationships: N/A.
Proficiency
Weapon of Choice: Claws. Or a really large branch/walking stick that has fortune enchantment(more durable, good luck, it’s more out of the fact it’s been close to Eiyuu for a long time than anything)
Specialty: Eiyuu makes a decent medic, but are first and foremost a monk. Their expertise with merely staying alone has given them some survival skills, but mostly only enough to sustain themself. Eiyuu is surprisingly agile, capable of using their claws to their advantage, fighting in a surprisingly graceful unarmed fighting style. They tend to prefer capturing prey via grapples and tackles or traps instead of brute force. Due to their creation, their affinity with nature is tied greatly to water sources. While touching any source of water, they can choose to return to their native form, a serpentine dragon with white to gold scales. They can hold their own in a fight, if only because they're quite used to taking beatings and have quite the health pool to drain. While they abhor needless fighting, when forced to fight, they often rely on their endurance and agility to evade and tire out opponents along with their hand-to-hand combat.
They have an almost uncanny sense for when things will go on, a false kind of clairvoyance if you will. While this won't really help but demotivate people in a fight, it's...somewhat useful for knowing when to run away. Some believe that a side effect of Eiyuu's presence is an aura of misfortune, yet Eiyuu claims this is simply part of their false clairvoyance. In fact, from the legends of tatsus, Eiyuu apparently can control luck, or at least knows when the winds of fortune are about to change.
Their main power is their endurance. They have high regeneration while touching water, leading to how they were many times mistaken as a guardian or false deity of nature and springs. While their regeneration is less powerful outside of water sources, it still functions. They can fly in draconian form, and swim quite proficiently. Their form is like water, shifting, reforming, eternal. They can choose to shapeshift, changing their face and form when around water, and as thus, their wounds regenerate rapidly. They can weave circles, dodging and ducking as if one had tried to fight the sea.
While in their native draconian form, they obviously can't use unarmed fighting style(they...don't have hands then, partly why they prefer humanoid form), but can constrict enemies before attempting to drown them.
Otherwise, when push comes to shove, Eiyuu's main (and only!) offensive ability is their affinity with water. They are capable of water manipulation, lulling the waves into doing their bidding. As such, the yokai is capable of great devastation in throes of woe or anguish, calling down great tempests that ravage fishing villages or scattering wind and water across the spring fields as a blessing towards farmers when they were feeling merciful.
Eiyuu's greatest and weakest blessing is their durability in both forms. Their strengths are tied directly to how many hits they can take, focusing on locking down enemies and forcing them to deplete a continuously regenerating creature who's literally slippery as a snake. They lack in offensive functions, relying on unarmed blows and their own grace. They face difficulties in extremely dry conditions or conditions where they are forced to take offensive action, since they lack damage output. Even though they do have healing, it only affects themself. Their main contribution would be shouldering the damage for their allies and relying on them for damage.
Skills: They’ve always loved fishing and gardening.They have a myriad of seemingly random skills such as map-making or playing the flute. They’re not super good at any, but they can do it.
Extras: No one ever wants to play cards with them. Or dice. Or literally any game involving luck. Eiyuu doesn’t understand why.
Nicknames/Aliases: Eiyuu, the Shrine Guardian
Gender: Neutral(technically)
Age: Unknown, a few centuries at least
Race: Tatsu
Clan: N/A
Appearance:
Height: 6ft 6
Hair Color: Pale
Eye Color: Gold
Extra Features: Antlers, scales, wings and a tail(although commonly hidden)
General Description: Eiyuu is tall, lankly and slender in human form, commonly seen with flowing robes, long pale hair and golden eyes. They can’t hide their antlers or draconian features very well, but still makes an attempt to cover it up with robes and garments.
Personality: Serene and neutral, this spirit has the disposition of a saint. One may wonder how they came to be, but their reason, if twisted, is sincere. They are nature's reclamation, the fury and rot of a wronged saint. Eiyuu is not easily provoked, rarely even judging one side or another. They dislike needless fighting, believing instead in balance and neutrality.
Background: They rose from a torn orchard nourished by the wails of the fallen. They were born from a tainted river that ran so thick with blood that fishes choked to death on the gore. Striding through the ruins of a once magnificent orchard, the earth torn and ravaged by both man and beast, the sins of the ancestors burned the souls of the fathers. They walked through fury's embrace, the child of springtime who arrived too late, far too late to stop them, far too late to even mourn.
And as such was their nature. Wandering, travelling. Visiting torn-apart hamlets and plundered fishing villages, the travelling monk's nurturing nature always bringing them to the weak, or perhaps drawing the weak to them. They did not want to bring carnage, to bring misfortune, yet their very touch was bile. For the harbinger of plague to walk within a village, one may know plague and misfortune was soon to follow. The cold eyes of onmyoji that sealed them away saw a monster who would cradle an stillborn child, whispering to it a few words of comfort for the dead yet letting them die just the same. A monster whose very laughter was a curse, whose existence was a burden, the shrine guardian of a forgotten monastery where nature reigned supreme.
To put it simply, Eiyuu does not care. They seek the weak both to protect them yet to end the runts who were not meant to live. They are both kind, yet cruel. Run. Flee. Be a demon, a saint, a god, a king. It matters not. Death will not care, and neither will Eiyuu, as such is the law of nature. They are sometimes seen as emotionless and almost cruel, when it is simply due to their rather...eccentric worldview.
Their travels would bring them to a monastery, where they would spend years as a shrine guardian(or at least fancying themself to be one), guarding rivers and ponds they saw fit for their attention. While they may have been loyal, and endless, their companions were not. When a shrine would vanish, out of old age or simply out of negligence, the shrine guardian would move on, carrying with them the burdens of misfortune. Their wanderings would eventually lead them here, an anchor that kept them tethered, not simply just one forgotten ghost occasionally seem in glimpses of misfortune.
Relationships: N/A.
Proficiency
Weapon of Choice: Claws. Or a really large branch/walking stick that has fortune enchantment(more durable, good luck, it’s more out of the fact it’s been close to Eiyuu for a long time than anything)
Specialty: Eiyuu makes a decent medic, but are first and foremost a monk. Their expertise with merely staying alone has given them some survival skills, but mostly only enough to sustain themself. Eiyuu is surprisingly agile, capable of using their claws to their advantage, fighting in a surprisingly graceful unarmed fighting style. They tend to prefer capturing prey via grapples and tackles or traps instead of brute force. Due to their creation, their affinity with nature is tied greatly to water sources. While touching any source of water, they can choose to return to their native form, a serpentine dragon with white to gold scales. They can hold their own in a fight, if only because they're quite used to taking beatings and have quite the health pool to drain. While they abhor needless fighting, when forced to fight, they often rely on their endurance and agility to evade and tire out opponents along with their hand-to-hand combat.
They have an almost uncanny sense for when things will go on, a false kind of clairvoyance if you will. While this won't really help but demotivate people in a fight, it's...somewhat useful for knowing when to run away. Some believe that a side effect of Eiyuu's presence is an aura of misfortune, yet Eiyuu claims this is simply part of their false clairvoyance. In fact, from the legends of tatsus, Eiyuu apparently can control luck, or at least knows when the winds of fortune are about to change.
Their main power is their endurance. They have high regeneration while touching water, leading to how they were many times mistaken as a guardian or false deity of nature and springs. While their regeneration is less powerful outside of water sources, it still functions. They can fly in draconian form, and swim quite proficiently. Their form is like water, shifting, reforming, eternal. They can choose to shapeshift, changing their face and form when around water, and as thus, their wounds regenerate rapidly. They can weave circles, dodging and ducking as if one had tried to fight the sea.
While in their native draconian form, they obviously can't use unarmed fighting style(they...don't have hands then, partly why they prefer humanoid form), but can constrict enemies before attempting to drown them.
Otherwise, when push comes to shove, Eiyuu's main (and only!) offensive ability is their affinity with water. They are capable of water manipulation, lulling the waves into doing their bidding. As such, the yokai is capable of great devastation in throes of woe or anguish, calling down great tempests that ravage fishing villages or scattering wind and water across the spring fields as a blessing towards farmers when they were feeling merciful.
Eiyuu's greatest and weakest blessing is their durability in both forms. Their strengths are tied directly to how many hits they can take, focusing on locking down enemies and forcing them to deplete a continuously regenerating creature who's literally slippery as a snake. They lack in offensive functions, relying on unarmed blows and their own grace. They face difficulties in extremely dry conditions or conditions where they are forced to take offensive action, since they lack damage output. Even though they do have healing, it only affects themself. Their main contribution would be shouldering the damage for their allies and relying on them for damage.
Skills: They’ve always loved fishing and gardening.They have a myriad of seemingly random skills such as map-making or playing the flute. They’re not super good at any, but they can do it.
Extras: No one ever wants to play cards with them. Or dice. Or literally any game involving luck. Eiyuu doesn’t understand why.
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