Deugaro.
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Height: 6 ft 2 in
Weight: 150 Lbs
Race: Phoenican
Class: Assassin
Rank: Captain
Appearance: Tall and sleek, with a barely noticable air of professionalism following in his silent footsteps, one could believe he would disappear if you blinked. Deugaro displays the absolute height of silent killing in the world of assassinations, brought on by years of lonliness and his power of dakoon he became emotionally numb and thus able to kill without remorse or pity. His long raven hair flows freely down his back stopping just below the shoulderblades, while stray hairs hang limply over his tattered red headband. underneath his shirt is a pair of carefully arranged red wings that imitate a red muscle shirt and can only be proven wrong if one was to run their hands over them. His skin is darkened from the strong sunlight that warmed his bare body when he was eight and younger.
If one took a single glance at him you would assume he was just another "tough guy" coming to cause trouble. This is quickly proven incorrect as disturbingly red eyes almost lazily keep tabs on everything happening around him, a must in his line of work. People generally tend to avoid him if at all possible, only interacting with the assassin if absolutely necessary.
His clothing is rather strange at first glance, as he wears a pair of dark pants that fit loosely providing freedom of movement, a dark shirt that sags slightly from it's tucked in position. He wears a pair of dark boots that look rather clumsy and heavy but he can run silently in them all the same. He also wears a dark crimson cloak that looks to have been thoroughly chewed up by some wild animal. Now wearing dark clothing would be beneficial in his job but where would the cloak come in? Bright colors attract the eye, a diversion tactic. He also wears an old red headband that has been worn down over the years that hides a terrible wound that never healed correctly. He wears no armor except for his left hand that is encompassed by a gauntlet. This piece of armor is the only container for his tainted left hand, that holds such a strong poison that he can cause someone to rot with a single touch. It is a simplistic gray color with only a a small hood of metal reacing up to the middle of his forearm. Underneath that hood is a series of spining locking mechanisms that ensure the metal stays on.
Bio: A phoenican that failed to rise.
Deugaro has never had a moment of rest. From his birth he was abandoned, courtesy of his tri-digited left hand. An aged blind man found him crying out in the middle of a field, that was adjacent to the road he was travelling on, and took him to his home. Within that same day the man died of old age and Deugaro was again left to fend for himself.
However, family of his had decided to come over in that same night.
They were not as kind as their grandfather and threw the just barely four hour old child out of the home.
Somehow he managed to survive and fed off the vegetation in the forest, the poisonous plants not affecting him in the slightest.
Five
As he grew older he came to understand that he lived at a place called Arbiter, which was actually a floating island that hovered over the ocean. It was a large section of land that had many forests and mountains. Deugaro decided it was time to leave these people and ran as fast as his five year old legs could go.
Eight
Killing has become a daily habit for him and he has learned a new word as well.
"Dakoon."
Despite the resounding pain in his head he need this pain to stop the one originating in his stomach.
Black standard particles arranged themselves as a spear in his hands and he snuck into the same town that hurt him so long ago. He would poach one of their pigs and run for it.
No such luck. The angry villagers caught him before he actually did anything. Angry cries of "Monster" and "Kill him and be rich for life" rang through out the crowd.
"No." He whispered. "No. No! I don't want to die!"
An old man, probably in his 70's was walking thought the village when he heard the yell and saw the mob.
"Maybe I should help eh?" he asked himself, fingering the crystaline bell handing from his neck.
"DAKOON!"
To the old man's surprise the mob was blown backwards and a small unclothed boy limped out his left foot obviously broken, holding a sword... Four times his height with ease.
"That's something you don't see every day!" He chuckled to himself and watched the spectacle.
Sleep has never once visited him, he can "recharge" only by a special blend of tea. He also has large wings that enable him to fly. If the need arises, he can transform them into one large sword(AKA Great Wing) or two smaller blades(AKA Phoenix Tails), however he prefers his Dakoon: Darkchain the most. He also has a wound that will never heal, that is located on his neck.
Abilities: Dakoon, White Reflection
Techniques- Selduvet, Night Terror(Night Sadism), Dakoon: Darkchain- Snare(Earth Tiger Snare)- Guillotine Snare(Victorious Earth tiger), Botsuraku no Tayou.
Combat Styles (strongest attack)- Hollow (Flesh cleaving fists), Silent (Bone-snapping hands), Wicked (A lesson in Torture), Floating Feathers{PT} (Griphon's beak), Storming Sky{GW} (Collapsing Moon), Dakoon: Darkchain (Bladed lines)
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