Bio:
Like most Humans who find the path of the Martial Arts, Chazz Shinrai was born into it. His father was a local priest in a rural village, as well as a practitioner of the Gimenkobushi, or Fist of Deception, style of combat. Their life was a peaceful one...his father treated the villagers as their physician, his mother played the role of wife, and he grew as a child should. However as much as his father forced him to train, he was never truly interested in methods of combat...until one fateful day.
The moon shone full and red, a harvest moon typically worshipped as a time of great birth by some, but by others it was a harbinger of doom. The people of his village were largely uncaring either way, and so as the night wore on, they went on with life as they do. However as the clouds began spreading along the horizon, a storm springing suddenly from the mountains, a man arrived at the gate. He wore only a black kimono emblazoned with a vibrant red symbol, and at first glance it was obvious he was a fighter. So sudden his arrival, so surprising was his attack, that there was no time to prepare or even fight back. With an amazing display of power, the stranger obliterated entire houses with his fists, reducing the families within them to ashes and slaying those that escaped with equal ease. He fought his way through the village, or slaughtered rather, until he came to the outskirts where Chazz's father awaited him.
For no reason other than the ability to do so, the man had picked a random village to spread his evil. For no reason other than the ability to do so, the man laid waste to an entire pocket of life, giving no quarter to sex or age. And for no reason other than the ability to do so, the strange man murdered Chazz's mother and father, then turned to him to complete the ordeal...and once again, for no discernable reason, he simply walked away and left Chazz alive. One child among a town of bodies.
Chazz found solace in the neighboring town, apprenticing under a local blacksmith to earn his way, but for him there was no pleasure in life. He did his job and learned, and when he could, he continued practicing his father's style of Martial Arts, but something burned within him. This is no tale of revenge seeking, but rather a story of how a young man was shown his path and began walking it. He fights, now, not with any passion, not with any goal, but simply because his 'life' as he now lives it was born of violence...and it is all he seems to know. However perverted his reasoning, he remains just and unbiased in his ways...unfortunately his method is not a gentle one. He is the Judge, Jury, and Executioner, and the only thing that saves one from his Judgement is their skills against his own.
Description:
Theme: 'The Red' by Chevelle
This tall and shadowy figure is an enigma...a mop of disshelved dark blue hair sits atop his head, falling past his throat and to his shoulders and covering most of his face...though occasionally a dark gray eye peeks out from underneath them. His face is sharp-featured, his skin a pale white and hairless, and everything about him generally feels, even to the most astute observer, to be unfocused. Around his tall and athletic figure he holds a blue and black flannel blanket, drapped around his shoulders like a cloak and bundling up even past his chin and covering his mouth. It is impossible to discern his form or anything else about him underneath the blanket, but his stance and the stony gaze of his eyes would hint at something dangerous.
Dangerous and inviting...