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Shin Āchā | 真アーチャー
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''The power of a god is not for housing in one’s own body, it should be forced to submit, trampled underfoot...and ruled by the might of man.''
Nickname: "True" Archer / Avenger
Gender: Male
Age: Unknown
Clan: Surgebinder
Appearance & Personality:
"Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.'' - Julius Caesar
Village / Rank / Chakra Info:
Village of Birth: Kirigakure
Village of Alliance: Kurogakure
Ninja Rank: Unofficial Sage
[video=youtube;ah0H-gDT35U]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah0H-gDT35U[/video]
Gender: Male
Age: Unknown
Clan: Surgebinder
Appearance & Personality:
True Archer possesses a lean, well-toned physique, and is never seen without his signature robes, and black and gold shroud on his body, with a plainly patterned fabric tied around his left arm. Underneath the shroud which covers his face, his long hair flows out, but no other features can be seen. His flesh is a pinkish red, akin to that of exposed muscle, except for the skin over his heart, which possesses a white color, as if he had torn his heart out.
Unlike his physicality, which persevered throughout the years, his mind and morality did not. After truly realising the sins he had committed at the command of men and women he thought to be benevolent, kind and generous, his hope died. He ceased to be the hero he was once known as. Becoming cold and unforgiving, forsaking the optimism and pride of his legend, he developed a hatred, for the world and those who commanded him, so great and deep-seated that he would be almost unrecognisable as a hero of legend.
Unlike his physicality, which persevered throughout the years, his mind and morality did not. After truly realising the sins he had committed at the command of men and women he thought to be benevolent, kind and generous, his hope died. He ceased to be the hero he was once known as. Becoming cold and unforgiving, forsaking the optimism and pride of his legend, he developed a hatred, for the world and those who commanded him, so great and deep-seated that he would be almost unrecognisable as a hero of legend.
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"Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.'' - Julius Caesar
Village / Rank / Chakra Info: Village of Birth: Kirigakure
Village of Alliance: Kurogakure
Ninja Rank: Unofficial Sage
 Elements | Basics | Specials |
火 Katon → Completed | 忍 Ninjutsu → In Progress |
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|
水 Suiton → In Progress | 幻 Genjutsu → Completed | |
雷 Raiton → Completed | 剣 Kenjutsu → In Progress | |
風 Futon → Completed | 体 Taijutsu → Needs Training | |
土 Doton → In Progress | Surge of Evocation → Needs Training | |
. | Surge of Armament → Needs Training | |
. | Surge of Augmentation → Needs Training |
Primary Specialty: Lightning
Secondary Specialty: Fire
History
This tale, is not one that ends with triumph, as many would believe. Though the hero accomplished many things, noble and just, he did not come forth unscathed. In fact, by the end of his journey, compared to all others, he had returned the most scarred of all. Born from a union of commoner and a sovereign, one of illegitimacy, he lived as the earth’s greatest warrior, and became a legend. However, at the end of it all, he tore down his trophies of victory and the walls built from his triumph. This is the tragic tale of man’s greatest champion, his rise to the status of hero and the divine, and his descent into hatred and shame, of both himself and the divine.
Prologue
The room was lit by candles, as the sound of a woman struggling through her birth are being heard. By her side, was a man of middle age, holding her hand, giving her comfort. It seemed like his simple gaze would give her strength to continue...this was after all an important and special night. Minutes passed one after the other. The room seemed, in a sense, to be in total silence, no matter what was happening. But, it was at that instant, when the morning is said to have dawned. With the sun rising, the cries of a child are heard. The mother was relieved...she sighed, thinking, knowing, her job now is done. The father sighed, as all the tension during the birth vanished in that instant. Through the glass of the window, the rays of the sun permeated, shining in the home, far surpassing the light these old candles were producing. But, even the light of the sun, of such a majestic dawn...would not best the light the child was radiating. In the moment of her greatest joy, her father asked to hold the newborn child, to at least gaze at him. But, it was when his own world turned upside down. The birth they were awaiting, interrupted by a woman’s intrusion. In the eternity, captured within a moment, there was silence, save for the infant’s wailing. The woman looked to the robed, bearded man, then to the other woman in the room, the mother. And finally, to the crying child held in her arms. Her features, in all their beauty, contorted into an expression which betrayed any prospects of benevolence or kindness one would expect from one such as she. She screamed to the man in white rage, impossibly angered by the transgression. But it was not the act of infidelity itself that angered the woman, it was who it was with; a commoner. A simple, lowly commoner. Not even of noble descent. Though the man whose name she shouted, Zeus, who was said to have feared naught, attempted to calm the rage of the woman, she did not stop. She, his wife, Hera, cursed and condemned the child, the product of Zeus’ carefree will, in a fit of jealousy-induced wrath. The child could never live with them, Hera would not allow it. Following her wishes, and his own, Zeus secretly delivered the child to a pair, husband and wife, living in a remote land. Leaving the infant at their doorstep, he returned to Hera and the two resumed their lives. However, unbeknownst to Zeus, Hera knew that the child continued to live elsewhere, and vowed to plague its existence for as long as it lived. In the morning after the child was delivered, the couple discovered it at their doorstep. A boy. Aside it lay a small parchment, the boy’s name written inside. The couple decided to raise the child as their own, not knowing of its peculiar origin. The following years would be what one could consider ordinary, with the occasional event occurring which indicated that things were anything but ordinary. These were the defining years of the boy’s life, sparking a chain of events which would eventually lead to the rise and fall, of a great, and tragic hero.
Chapter I / Precursor
I remember, from childhood, living in a small cottage in the countryside. The life I was graced with in my youth was innocent, and modest. I fondly remember the sensation of the gentle breeze that hugged my skin, as I sat atop my father’s shoulders on morning strolls, my mother beside us. We would always stop by the same places, and even venture to new sights. I would gaze dumbfoundedly at the wildlife, in my infancy, as it gazed back at me, as curious of me as I was of them. The vast green of the land, the orange hue of the evening sky, I can never forget. From as early as I could remember, I recall reaching to the horizon, grasping at the straws of wishes in my heart. I yearned to see what was on the other side of those hills, whatever they may have been.
One night, when the stars were many in the sky, and wind whistling quietly as my parents put me to bed, the candles brightening the cottage to an orange color. The unbaked brick walls crumbling and withering in some patches, the wooden support beams which kept the roof above our heads. I was awoken by a soft, but eerie sound which crept from the door to my cot. As it rose to look me in the eyes, I gazed in awe of its features. The whiteness of its scales and the golden hue of its malevolent eyes. It returned my gaze, eyeing me for some moments. It was the first I’d seen of such a creature, in its reptilian wonder and mystery. But, it was not there simply to eye me. It was there to feast. Though, what it did not know, was of my special heritage. As it’s head surged towards my neck, I raised an arm, catching the animal within an iron grip. I remember giggling childishly at its helplessness, and at the gasps of my parents as they witnessed the sight before them. It was in that moment that their suspicions were confirmed. I was not a child of ordinary birth or lineage. I was not as they were.
Over the years, I became increasingly aware of my peculiar abilities, though one-dimensional as they were at the time. When I was able to walk, I would be able to better satiate my curiosity with the world. I could pick stones twice my size, rip the largest crops from beneath the ground. My father would have me helping him travel to a nearby trading and market village from as early as 8. I would help stack the crop yields onto the cart, for my father was frail, and my mother tending to the cottage. It was a quiet, but honest life. As I got older, it became too quiet. I was kept from other children, but not for reasons that I knew of. When I attempted to reach out to others, or join them in their games, they would ignore, or my father would take me onward before I got the chance. Over the years, in order to compensate for lack of outside human interaction, I took to several pastimes. Writing, reading, even musical arts. They were all sufficient for wasting time away. On the perfect summer day, the skies painted a bright blue, with mere wisps of cloud stretching across as if cotton on a canvas, the trees and grass gently swaying in the wind, I had merely tasted a hint of my true heritage. In my frustration with my tutor, during a musical arts lesson, I had beaten him to death with a lyre. My parents bore witness to this, and sent me to the mountains to live as a farmer for some time, until I had learned to control my temper. I spent months there, learning control and serenity. At the age of 20, I used my strength sparingly, as to not disturb the fragile tranquility of the land. However, this tranquility would soon end. As I tended to the cattle, on a fairly ordinary day, I was confronted by two cloaked men. Their aura and presence was unlike anything I had ever witnessed, or even dreamed of. They spared me of formalities, only posing to me a simple choice. A pleasant and easy life, or a severe but glorious one. Choosing the latter, the men vanished. It would not be until many, many years later that I would come to realise the true folly of my decision. A precursor to tragedy.
Chapter 2 / Journey's First Step
Coming soon...
Secondary Specialty: Fire
History
This tale, is not one that ends with triumph, as many would believe. Though the hero accomplished many things, noble and just, he did not come forth unscathed. In fact, by the end of his journey, compared to all others, he had returned the most scarred of all. Born from a union of commoner and a sovereign, one of illegitimacy, he lived as the earth’s greatest warrior, and became a legend. However, at the end of it all, he tore down his trophies of victory and the walls built from his triumph. This is the tragic tale of man’s greatest champion, his rise to the status of hero and the divine, and his descent into hatred and shame, of both himself and the divine.
Prologue
The room was lit by candles, as the sound of a woman struggling through her birth are being heard. By her side, was a man of middle age, holding her hand, giving her comfort. It seemed like his simple gaze would give her strength to continue...this was after all an important and special night. Minutes passed one after the other. The room seemed, in a sense, to be in total silence, no matter what was happening. But, it was at that instant, when the morning is said to have dawned. With the sun rising, the cries of a child are heard. The mother was relieved...she sighed, thinking, knowing, her job now is done. The father sighed, as all the tension during the birth vanished in that instant. Through the glass of the window, the rays of the sun permeated, shining in the home, far surpassing the light these old candles were producing. But, even the light of the sun, of such a majestic dawn...would not best the light the child was radiating. In the moment of her greatest joy, her father asked to hold the newborn child, to at least gaze at him. But, it was when his own world turned upside down. The birth they were awaiting, interrupted by a woman’s intrusion. In the eternity, captured within a moment, there was silence, save for the infant’s wailing. The woman looked to the robed, bearded man, then to the other woman in the room, the mother. And finally, to the crying child held in her arms. Her features, in all their beauty, contorted into an expression which betrayed any prospects of benevolence or kindness one would expect from one such as she. She screamed to the man in white rage, impossibly angered by the transgression. But it was not the act of infidelity itself that angered the woman, it was who it was with; a commoner. A simple, lowly commoner. Not even of noble descent. Though the man whose name she shouted, Zeus, who was said to have feared naught, attempted to calm the rage of the woman, she did not stop. She, his wife, Hera, cursed and condemned the child, the product of Zeus’ carefree will, in a fit of jealousy-induced wrath. The child could never live with them, Hera would not allow it. Following her wishes, and his own, Zeus secretly delivered the child to a pair, husband and wife, living in a remote land. Leaving the infant at their doorstep, he returned to Hera and the two resumed their lives. However, unbeknownst to Zeus, Hera knew that the child continued to live elsewhere, and vowed to plague its existence for as long as it lived. In the morning after the child was delivered, the couple discovered it at their doorstep. A boy. Aside it lay a small parchment, the boy’s name written inside. The couple decided to raise the child as their own, not knowing of its peculiar origin. The following years would be what one could consider ordinary, with the occasional event occurring which indicated that things were anything but ordinary. These were the defining years of the boy’s life, sparking a chain of events which would eventually lead to the rise and fall, of a great, and tragic hero.
Chapter I / Precursor
I remember, from childhood, living in a small cottage in the countryside. The life I was graced with in my youth was innocent, and modest. I fondly remember the sensation of the gentle breeze that hugged my skin, as I sat atop my father’s shoulders on morning strolls, my mother beside us. We would always stop by the same places, and even venture to new sights. I would gaze dumbfoundedly at the wildlife, in my infancy, as it gazed back at me, as curious of me as I was of them. The vast green of the land, the orange hue of the evening sky, I can never forget. From as early as I could remember, I recall reaching to the horizon, grasping at the straws of wishes in my heart. I yearned to see what was on the other side of those hills, whatever they may have been.
One night, when the stars were many in the sky, and wind whistling quietly as my parents put me to bed, the candles brightening the cottage to an orange color. The unbaked brick walls crumbling and withering in some patches, the wooden support beams which kept the roof above our heads. I was awoken by a soft, but eerie sound which crept from the door to my cot. As it rose to look me in the eyes, I gazed in awe of its features. The whiteness of its scales and the golden hue of its malevolent eyes. It returned my gaze, eyeing me for some moments. It was the first I’d seen of such a creature, in its reptilian wonder and mystery. But, it was not there simply to eye me. It was there to feast. Though, what it did not know, was of my special heritage. As it’s head surged towards my neck, I raised an arm, catching the animal within an iron grip. I remember giggling childishly at its helplessness, and at the gasps of my parents as they witnessed the sight before them. It was in that moment that their suspicions were confirmed. I was not a child of ordinary birth or lineage. I was not as they were.
Over the years, I became increasingly aware of my peculiar abilities, though one-dimensional as they were at the time. When I was able to walk, I would be able to better satiate my curiosity with the world. I could pick stones twice my size, rip the largest crops from beneath the ground. My father would have me helping him travel to a nearby trading and market village from as early as 8. I would help stack the crop yields onto the cart, for my father was frail, and my mother tending to the cottage. It was a quiet, but honest life. As I got older, it became too quiet. I was kept from other children, but not for reasons that I knew of. When I attempted to reach out to others, or join them in their games, they would ignore, or my father would take me onward before I got the chance. Over the years, in order to compensate for lack of outside human interaction, I took to several pastimes. Writing, reading, even musical arts. They were all sufficient for wasting time away. On the perfect summer day, the skies painted a bright blue, with mere wisps of cloud stretching across as if cotton on a canvas, the trees and grass gently swaying in the wind, I had merely tasted a hint of my true heritage. In my frustration with my tutor, during a musical arts lesson, I had beaten him to death with a lyre. My parents bore witness to this, and sent me to the mountains to live as a farmer for some time, until I had learned to control my temper. I spent months there, learning control and serenity. At the age of 20, I used my strength sparingly, as to not disturb the fragile tranquility of the land. However, this tranquility would soon end. As I tended to the cattle, on a fairly ordinary day, I was confronted by two cloaked men. Their aura and presence was unlike anything I had ever witnessed, or even dreamed of. They spared me of formalities, only posing to me a simple choice. A pleasant and easy life, or a severe but glorious one. Choosing the latter, the men vanished. It would not be until many, many years later that I would come to realise the true folly of my decision. A precursor to tragedy.
Chapter 2 / Journey's First Step
Coming soon...
Pictures / Theme Music:
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[video=youtube;ah0H-gDT35U]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah0H-gDT35U[/video]
Battle Record:
Won: 12
Lost: 1
Won: 12
Lost: 1
⇒ Clan
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⇒ Dropping
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Approved~
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