Post by daken on May 23, 2012 18:10:22 GMT -4
The person behind the character:Name/Nickname: Daken
Experience: 3-4 Years
Contact information: PM, C-Box
Character basics:Real name: Akihiro, ----
Code name: Daken
Date of Birth: N/A
Place of Birth: Japan
Age: est. 66
Known family:
-Wolverine (Father, Alive)
-Itsu (Mother, Deceased)
The Reflection in the mirror:Hair: Black
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 272 lb.
Legal Status: Adult
Occupation: Unofficial leader of Madripoor
Affiliation: None
Abilities:Daken shares the same powers as his father, ranging from the super-human senses to regenerative healing factor. The only differences between them are the claws, in which Daken has one that emits from the bottom of his fore-arms, and two from the first separations between his knuckles. After an operation in Madripoor, his claws were also coated in Admantium, along with the rest of his skeleton. However, he has a seperate power from his father; he has the ability to manipulate the pheromones of human beings.
This allows him to change how they feel, making his prey feel calm, or his enemies panic. It is an extremely useful ability, and his control goes so far that he can predict their emotions through pheromones, and with his advanced senses, can predict their movements and combat, making him an even more menacing hand to hand combatant. He is also fluent in multiple languages, from Mandarin, Japanese, English, to German. He is also skilled in hiding his scent from super-human senses, mainly by blocking off his pheromones from the human nose's receptors. It isn't quite known how he does this, however.
What's hidden behind the mask:
Personality:Daken's mind is a confused maze of insanity, hatred, lust, and longing. He has slight hints of kindness in the oddest of situations, and contains many qualities of a teenager exploring their new selves. Yet, it seems more organized, and at the same time, contains a further radiance of nakedness, of newness, of naivety. Yet, outside of this, there is a hard shell of hatred. This forms itself into a homicidal rage, in which he has attained the notion of being insane, from his own mind, and, of course, others own spoken words. Yet, it seems that his emotions can be mixed, and in fact, mostly are. With this, he can often have different motives, a confused objective, and mainly, is almost impossible to understand at times. This complex/confusing mind might be due to brain damage he received as a 'newborn', or simply be a mental disorder of some sort that is immune to his healing factor. Other than what his personality is, it is not known of.
History:
Rain gently poured from the sky, each drop pattering differently against the ground, the sounds reverberating inside his head. Staring into the sky, his hair pasted to his skull, he closed his eyes, letting the rain fall on him freely. When he reopened his eyes, he was a distant speck in the sky, something that wouldn't be able to be seen by the normal human eye. Sighing, he pulled up the leather bag that lay next to him on the ground, pulling the strap to the top of his shoulder. As he turned to go back inside, his black jacket flapping in the wind, he pulled a pair of large, black shades from his pocket. Sliding them on, he looked into the light of the airport, the people inside blissfully unawares of who was there. If they knew what he had done... Well, he wouldn't think about that right now. All he had to do was get out of here, before he came. And so, he walked to the terminal, a grim smile plastered on his face.
Stepping aboard the plane, the smell was the first thing that caught him. Obviously, at least four people, no, five, had gone a day without bathing. Scrunching his nose, a scowl on his face, he took his seat, reclining it back, ignoring the angry shout from the passenger behind him. Placing his arms on the rests, he slowly closed his eyes, attempting to ignore the smells and noise from the starting engine as the plane began to move. As it took off, his eyes closed, and his mind slowly slipped into the blackness that was sleep.
Gazing up, blood red walls surrounded him, a slight light visible from them. Yet, it barely mattered, seeing as his body could barely move. Was this a dream, or a memory? The sensations had a certain familiarity, yet also an alien oddity, as if it were something that should have been but didn't happen. Closing his eyes slowly, he took in a breath, oddly sticky air surrounding him. Adjusting his body slightly, he felt a tug, and his eyes opened blearily. Blood surrounded him, and the light was beyond intense. Screwing his eyes shut, he heard groans, footsteps, and other noises from his mind that made no sense. And in it all, he heard a baby crying. Would someone shut that thing up? It didn't seem human, and it probably never would be. Yet, the feel of blood on his hands was a comfort, and... It seemed normal. Grinning slightly with bloodlust, his sleep lulled back into the blackness, his mind not even grasping that he had just witnessed his 'birth', or rather, being stolen from his mother's stomach.
Code word: Armaggedon