Ossyrhysse Ayumu

[amayarhyss]

RHYSS


Cannon Character Application Information.

The Maker

Your Name:: Amaya.

Your Age:: fourteen.

How Long Have you been Rping:: a little over a couple of years?

How Did You Find Us:: the Creator badgered me about it. xD

Tell us about you:: goddammit, look at Tanjun's bio. xD

Who is your other account:: Tanjun!
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Reach out and touch faith, Your own Personal Jesus


Name:: Ayumu, Osyrhysse ( Rhyss )

Age:: twenty-seven.

Date Of Birth:: July eleventh.

Where you were born:: Oakum; Ayumu.

Profession:: Ayumu + Oakum representative. hunter.
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Someone to hear your prayers, Someone who cares

Face Claim:: Sesshoumaru, from Inuyasha. [ <33 UNF! ]

Appearance::
That cold atmosphere that surrounds him isn't there for no reason at all; his entire frame, every fiber of his being, emits a menacing air. One that clearly states, he is a force to be reckoned with.

For one, his height is fairly tall. Taller than most. And he's not that kind of lanky, harmless tall; as one can tell, it's the kind that's the formidable kind of towering height, one that radiates strength and power. Because he's not some thin, muscle-less bastard. No, he's actually got a build to go with that height. After all, his weight isn't blubber or skin and bones. It's got some muscle in that equation. Damn right.

For two, that build of his is suitably handsome. If one ever managed to rip off his clothes without getting their own head ripped off first. His muscles aren't overly bulky; as a matter of fact, they aren't that bulky at all. They are nicely toned, showing that no, he is not a body builder, but yes, he is in highly healthy and sexy shape.

Now, onto his face. Goddamn, he looks like he has make up on sometimes - but guess what! Those are a noble's markings, which he earned sometime in his life. A crescent moon on his forehead, and two fuchsia, almost claw markings on both of his cheeks.

Then you've got his hair; his oddly amazing hair. Its coloration is a silvery white, but it shines with his young age. That's right, this ghastly colored hair isn't the kind that's shriveled and dying like the elders - his hair is the silky smooth, radiating youth kind. And even with its long length, all the way down to past his fine piece of ass, doesn't deter its health. And get this; it's completely natural. That's right; he has better to things to do than sit around washing and conditioning his hair. So why not let it strut its own natural ability? He's living proof that it's a good idea!

Finally, it's onto his eyes. That cold, dead gaze which seems to stare deeply into your soul and know everything; your current fears, your current emotions, you as an entirety. And yet their color is so.. entrancing. No, it's not gorgeous blue, or even pretty green; it's a golden coloration, resembling that of a wolf's. Amazingly, they're not wolves' eyes, just deep gold optics with yellow specks and shimmers. And god does it make him dashing.

Height:: 5'11.

Weight:: 196 lbs.

Eye Color:: yellow gold.

Normal Attire::
Normally, he wears a white kimono with a red honeycomb and flower crest at his collar and sleeves; as well as a waist sash, wear he sheathes his swords. He wears Sashinuki Hakama, which are gathered at the ankles to give them the ballooning effect. Over that, he wears armor; his armor includes includes a spiked pauldron that covers his left shoulder, which is attached to the upper section of his cuirass. His footwear consists of flat pointed ankle-high boots. He tends to wear a sort of fur mane around his right shoulder, which goes from around his arm to down to his feet.
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Things on your chest, You need to confess, I will deliver, You know I'm a forgiver, Reach out and touch faith


Personality::
Osyrhysse has the emotionless type of personality; often, he appears indifferent and uncaring, never showing any emotion besides anger or dissatisfaction. In truth, he cares too little of emotions to bother with them; in his eyes, too much of it is a weak link. Vulnerability, and idiocy. And he doesn't have time for that. Oh, speaking of time. He dislikes wasting it. And by that, I mean he loathes wasting his time, or even his breath. His patience is too short to deal with irrelevant ramblings of moronic lives.

He thinks highly of himself, though is not too cocky, and is cruel to others; however, he is occasionally protective of his minions. If they deserve his respect, that is. Remember, he isn't anywhere near the nicest guy. Make a mistake, and he'll never appreciate one again.

His skill and intelligence are extremely high, giving him a right to believe others need to prove themselves to him. But that also means he wants things his way and believes he can force it to happen. If he is refused, he could swoon; if he is denied, he can force them to acknowledged. If he is disgraced, they will die. His rules are simple; be powerful and useful, or be turned to dust. Defy, and be destroyed. He works with an iron fist and is a hell of a bastard.

History::
There are simple parts in his history, and there are the not so simple parts.

First off, his parents were nobles. Nobles that were under Oakum, and willingly served under Darcia with hardly a second thought. They were, in reality, heartless dreamers, wanting to make their dreams a reality. And that desired reality was almost connected to Darcia's family in nearly every way, eventually even influenced by such. Not even eventually having children stopped them.

They never spent much time with their children after each of them reached age five. Once able to defend oneself, they left for their own dreams. Rhyss was the one who gained the most from this. Since childhood, his parents never meant much to him; they were just his blood, just like his siblings. But they never were there like his siblings were, whether it be bonding time or just there to occupy each other. His siblings were always around, even though their minds and personalities took their own roads - Ossyrhysse of course taking the colder ones. Their parents, again, were not. And so, it didn't hurt when they died.

Quote himself back then, "It was their price to pay, not ours." And what exactly did that mean? Simple. Their parents were fools, and thus deserved none of his tears.

However, there was one thing he paid for when he lost his parents. His hate of canines. Oh, how they seemed to admire the fact that they had taken down nobles. His family nobles. Their pride bellowed in their howls, their barks, their calls of triumph. How it sickened him! Did they truly believe that all nobles were that weak? Oh, he would show them. And he did.

Before age ten, he demanded his own combat equipment, ranging from weapons to exercises to armor. It was his time to fucking shine, and he quickly, apathetically, broke off from his siblings to train alone. To live alone. To thrive alone, in his own segment of their wretched home. And so he progressed quickly, his natural skill and talent giving him the ability to excel and constantly push his limits until he was satisfied.

But oh, he's never satisfied for long. Power isn't easy to maintain over people. And in order to be able to ensure he had more than just a chance, he kept on and on, for months and months. Eventually, he turned thirteen, and with more than decent hunting skills, he was prepared for a real hunt. One with canines, wolves and all. Because they were all useless in the end.

So they started off with hunting dogs, those who weren't needed and were prepared for execution already. He took them down easily. And then that slowly spread to the more powerful canines, keeping Osyrhysse occupied with more and more vigorous training. It wasn't that training was his life; it was that he would either become the greatest, or die.

Soon enough, he was fifteen, and he was training alone when a pack of wolves decided it would be fun to attack him and his fellow hawk companion. Of course, they were starving, and their portrayal of emotions, of weakness further irritated him, fueling his loathing of canines. Their beautiful appearances never suited their personalities, their minds - their inferiority. After they murdered many of his hunters and nearly snatched away his siblings, he was hateful. Because they weren't supposed to stand a chance, and definitely weren't allowed to believe they did. He would make certain of it. He was the highest here, not some filthy, drooling mutts.

After losing his flying companion to the wolves, he took them down without hesitation, obviously receiving a few scars. They placed a mixed effect upon him; proud to show he was nowhere near a stranger to violence, but infuriated at the fact that some hounds decided they would even try to kill him. He wasn't weak, unlike them. And so they fell, like so many after them. He wasn't a merciful soul, after all, even at the young age of near sixteen.

Eventually, it was decided that he was to represent the Ayumu family after he reached age eighteen. Oh, but no. He would show his strength, his intellect, his godforsaken skill. Because he wasn't as low as average. He was a beast among beasts, as close to invincible as someone like him could reach at that age. So he was made representative at age sixteen. Oh, but it doesn't stop there.

Once, after he was eighteen, there was a maid, a servant, who was completely head over heels for him, much to his agitation. And one day, he demanded she inform the hunters to organize a massacre of a pack. Her words had long been irritating him, but her idiocy there ticked him off.

"Inform the Heads that those mutts will be vultures' meals."

"Yes, my master," she whispered meekly, bowing in a basically swooning manner, "Your wish is my command."

His wine glass cracked a tad there as his hand enclosed tightly around it. Blinking, he glared at her through the corner of his eyes. "I do not wish, and I do not command; I order. Unlike wishes and commands, orders will never be disobeyed, or death will be upon the fool who dares defy me." And with that, he broke the glass and sent her off.

At age nineteen, he was assigned an assassination mission, to demolish the leader of a growing rebellion. The defenses were thick. But they weren't sly, thus costing them the life of their leader. There was no bargain, no final words; there were no sounds. Because it was a kill of pure, expertise stealth. Since then, he's ripped open the throats of two to three more rebellion leaders, and butchered irritating canines by the tens of hundreds.

Eventually, he proved himself worthy of more than just the representative. He proved himself worthy of becoming one of the lead hunters, if not the leader. With his icy composure and iron control, he was rarely challenged, and at his orders, many beasts were killed. And occasionally, he would go through with the 'legal murder' of a civilian who dared support the wolves. Paradise was the nobles. Those wolves would never make it, not on his watch. The nobles were going to be victorious over those mutts.

Past age twenty, he began to capture wolves and put them into captivity. It would prove who the dominant race was around here.

As time went on, he and the rest of the nobles began to brainwash a select few; the strongest or fastest ones. And then they would set them out, set them out to betray their own families, to butcher them and then kill themselves off. It would be a nobles' victory in the end, and Ossyrhysse wanted to completely secure that.

There came a time when he finally decided to give another select few markings. And not those who would be instantly released; these would not be brainwashed, instead released after those markings secured themselves in the blood and DNA. Then all wolves would know that they were below the nobles; they would know not to challenge them, but to submit in fear.

Among them was a wolf named Sythe. At first, she was nothing special. As a matter of fact, she was among the more minor of the marked. But in the end, more than half of them died, whether it be suicide or a bad reaction in their bloodstream. She was the only female to survive, and the only wolf to ever escape his captivity. And he was angry.

He declared, "A wolf's prey has the ability to escape; a wolf who is my prey is fated to die." Translation; nothing escapes me, especially a wolf. So now he has another goal; a sub goal. Find and demolish that female wolf; it was a simple enough task. So he would leave it for later.

Time went by again, and he once again picked up the pace with his murdering, though the hunts had lessened; those bastards were better than decent at concealing themselves. Oh, but he was a great tracker. Soon enough, they'd all go down. Soon enough, he would rise to the top of the galaxy.

It was his self-proclaimed destiny.

Lovers:: probably a lot. none.

Children:: none.