Yaksha Dokuja
"Worthless. But I'll fix that."
Basic Information:
Character Name: Yaksha Dokuja
Gender: Male
Age: 1550
Class: Vasto Lorde Hollow
Residence: Karakura Town
Appearance: Yaksha has a bipedal form, though he still seems to bring to mind a reptile that has learned to walk on two legs. His face is elongated, forming an almost rounded snout, and his body is very thin and lithe for his size. His mask, if someone were to get close enough to inspect it, would almost have an appearance of overlapping scales. His tongue is long and forked, able to reach several feet away from himself. He also has a tail, four feet long and flexible enough to serve as an additional limb. At a glance he appears quite muscular, and very powerful. He carries himself with a slight slouch, making it hard to tell just how tall he is much of the time.
His limbs are long and gangly, containing relatively small amounts of muscle relative to his torso and tail. They stretch out so far that he's known to have them drag along the ground when he's not paying close attention, and each hand ends in long claws that seem almost like dagger-tips. He rarely uses them aside from intimidation, and even then he prefers to show them rather than actually use them. There are the impression of overlapping scales on his arms as well, but the skin is entirely smooth and shows no sign of flaking or roughness.
Despite his appearance, Yaksha doesn't sound very primal at all. With his return to normal intellect, he has also rediscovered his old voice; a deep, rich tone that instantly puts others at ease, and almost makes it sound like he's a nobleman from a long time back. He frequently wears a thick brown cloak around himself, hiding everything but his face, to ensure that when he is spotted, he doesn't immediately cause a scene. Beneath the cloak, he's sometimes also known to wear poorly tailored suits, often when he's feeling particularly mischievous.
Yaksha's hair manifests itself as a long ponytail, bright green in color. It's held in place with what looks very much like a rubber band made of his own reishi. When he grows angry, his reishi can snap, causing his hair to fall around him, and even making it come to life, lashing around him like a multitudes of snakes.
Personality:
Yaksha is incredibly sly and deceptive, having managed to survive a very long time on simply being too much trouble to kill. He's not one prone to irrational actions or over the top responses to things, often simply growing snide or degrading when he's tested. He can be charismatic and lie effectively, but seems to have no exceptional grudge against others by race or credo. He believes anyone he can speak to is a person he can sway to his point of view, and he's always willing to wait until proved wrong.
And yet, beneath it all, Yaksha is needy. He is in fact beyond needy, downright dependent. He's survived for centuries, and has no intention of dying soon. And the best way to stay alive is to be neutral. Always neutral. He holds no strong feelings, and he very rarely deals in absolutes. Absolutes are the way people get killed. He's willing to throw away anyone and anything to get ahead and to get in someone's good graces. If killing the old king is what it'll take for the new king to tolerate his existence, he'll drive the knife in himself. One of the reasons so many people have let Yaksha keep surviving is because he is quite simply eager to please, and he's not picky who he's pleased. Having a person who thinks fondly of you is always in your best interests when you're a scavenger.
He's patient as...well, as a snake. He can remain dormant for decades, even centuries if the times call for it, and when he does hold a grudge, it lasts. Yaksha finds no particular solace in being called a hollow, or a monster; he finds he has transcended simple explanations of right and wrong, and that he has managed to create a niche for himself in the human world. Yaksha earnestly believes that he has some worth left, and that no one else has any right to decide the life he lives, or the kind of person he is.
When it comes to fights, Yaksha is an absolute coward, and a trickster. He'll dodge and block and demoralize without ever laying a finger on the enemy, and for good reason. There's not much you can do to a person when you're as weak as Yaksha. But the best way to win a fight is to make sure the other person simply doesn't want it as badly as you. He'll call in favors, he'll blackmail, and as an absolute last resort he'll simply step aside and give the opponent what they want. It's very rare that his death will supersede whatever other things need to be done.
There aren't too many things Yaksha considers important, perhaps because he's lived so long and seen so much. He's simply gotten used to the idea that everyone will betray him eventually, whether it's because they've changed allegiances or he's just become too annoying to tolerate. He holds no ill will to those who betray him, though he'll always find some way to even the score when he can. It's very hard to get him to take things personally, but if you do you can be certain you're about to get your entire world uprooted.
There's a core of firm will beneath it all, though; when he finds something to dedicate himself to, he does with a single-mindedness and an efficiency that is downright scary. Even if it will only be a few decades before his lord is at his throat or he's at theirs, he serves others and protects them with everything at his disposal. He absolutely despises losing people before the appointed time, and if he can see any way at all to keep what he has, he'll take it. There's no cost too high, and there's no line he won't cross if he thinks something is worth his effort. This unfortunately isn't a very common occurrence.
Your Legacy:
Your Story:
Dear Reader, shall I tell you a story? You like stories, no doubt. This is a rather good one. Do try to keep up.
A man was born. From his very birth, he was unnatural. He was a strange child, born in strange circumstances. He should never have existed, but the world is full of those things which should have been impossible. Still, if there's one thing the universe hates, it's an anomaly. Things that don't fit into the mold get broken until they do. Yaksha Dokuja was not always Yaksha Dokuja, but he always was.
His father was impotent, his mother distraught. Married off far too young, and to a man who could never give her what she wished for most; a beautiful child. Her husband treated her well, treated her with love and respect. He was a stonemason, good with his hands. He built her a home, and he always did everything he could to please her. The only thing he could not do was sire a child for her. It was also the only thing she resented him for.
Over the years resent turned into desperation, which turned into seething madness. She was a good, Christian woman...and she one day went quite mad. She went to an old place where none were meant to go, a place of so-called demons. The demon had once been a god, and had once been fed quite well. But that is another story. She came, and she prayed in the ways abhorrent to God. She said the words, she went through the routine. She was willing to do whatever it took to have a child to raise as her own.
The deal was struck. She was struck as well, by the appearance of the demon. They had spoken of cloven hooves and horns. Of smooth voices and exceptional masculinity. They had not spoken of white masks or enormous holes that one could fit a hand through. They had not spoken of the pain and the anguish in each word. They had not spoken of hunger. Of mind-wrenching hunger. They had told her she would have cravings when she was pregnant. They did not tell her what she would crave.
Her husband came home one day, but he was not her husband. His rough, calloused hands were not gentle this time. The man she lay down with was not her husband. But she let him; she knew the price that must be paid. She hoped he would never have to know what she had done. In a way, she was right: After that night, he never knew anything again. Her husband passed away moments after copulating with her. Everyone was baffled, but she was shocked beyond belief.
Months passed, and her cravings grew stranger. She ate primarily meat, and often meat that should by all accounts have made her exceptionally sick. She never grew sick. She had always been sick. She gave birth with no trouble, and with no assistance. The child came out like it had been made for it. And from the moment he was born she knew that she could never have what she wanted. Her child was born with skin all too fair, with hair as white as snow. With eyes the most disgusting shade of pink. He never cried, he never whined. He simply looked at her with curiosity.
She left him outside of the church, and she left without ever looking back. She was always the subject of many stories. Some said she killed her husband and was cursed by god. Some said she was a witch who returned to hell. None of them particularly matter. The child matters. He was raised by the Church, to be a god-fearing, church-attending child. He was raised to learn the skills of rhetoric and debate. He was raised to preach to a flock of new converts.
Do you know how hard it is to be an honest God-fearing man when you know the truth, Dear Reader?
He was always an odd child. He had little interest in god and in rhetoric. He had a great interest in the old fables and stories, of mythology wide and profound. He learned of the pagan rituals and the many names of demons. He spoke often of seeing the dead, of seeing black-clad angles and white-clad devils. He was a strange child, and the church shunned strangeness. He was given a life away from the public. A life in the catacombs of old scrolls. A librarian in a place no one wanted to visit.
There were myriad dead in that place, of all shapes and sizes. They were all quite intelligent, and they were all too eager to have someone who could finally be good conversation. Albus, as he had been known- the charming one who possessed no charm, who had never wanted it- was the only link the lingering dead had to their world. And he was always treated as the lowest of the low. Surrounded by brilliant minds, by people who felt themselves too great to fade, Albus sunk into his own illness. He became obsessive. He grew disillusioned, grew tired of hearing the same old stories...and one day he became part of a new one.
A white-clad devil came into the catacombs one night, sniffing for its latest prey. Yaksha was unaware of what to expect, but knew only that being this close to one of those majestic predators sent an electric shock through him. He wondered what it would take to meet one of these things. He began to follow it, his skill in stealth quite laughable. The demon's skill in noticing anything besides its prey even more so. It fled, sated enough for the time. Yaksha's hunger however was soon to become limitless.
He sought any reference to these things he could find. He spoke to every soul he could find, and discovered every detail possible. And he realized all too quickly what it would take to meet one in the flesh. He brought with him one of the eldest, most insufferable of souls. He hoped it would be willing to speak to him for as long as it took. Surprisingly, it took almost no time at all. The white-clad creature barreled into the catacombs, seeking another meal.
This one was not nearly as dim as the last, and realized almost immediately that there were two sets of eyes upon it. Two beings' attention. One was far more appetizing than the other...but far more interesting, as well. It wished to know more about this thing before him. This human who seemed to look at it with such delight...and who seemed to smell so familiar to it. One could dicker for years as to why the beast spared him, but the simple fact is that it did. Not without a scar...a remembrance. The beast burned his entire left cheek beyond recognition. Yaksha saw it as a badge of honor. He had held his first conversation with a hollow, and he had survived.
The problem with greed is that the greedy don't know when to stop. Yaksha studied for another decade, and did everything he could. Finally, he concocted a ritual, using the souls of every lingering being he could find for the bait. It took hours, but he finally succeeded; he drew to him one of the white-clad devils. And he struck a deal of his own. A deal for power and freedom, for a taste of what they could be like. Perhaps because the world so loves coincidences, or perhaps because it had always been waiting for this day, it was the same hollow his own mother had met.
He followed in his father's footsteps, and this time the act was not nearly so benign. Yaksha rode passenger as he watched his body kill half a dozen people before he was subdued. He felt not even an iota of regret over his decision. Even as he was stoned to death, he smiled. And when his body arose, when he was stared down by the being who had given him this freedom, the being which demanded its payment...he still smiled.
He smiled even as he tore at the chain that connected him to the pitiful human body he had long ago forsaken. He smiled even as the hole ripped open, at a speed that never should've been possible. He smiled as rigor mortis took over, he smiled as the essence of his discarded hard overtook him. And he smiled as he loomed over his would-be creditor. He smiled even as the thing realized that it had been deprived of its easy meal.
It fought savagely, but in the end it simply couldn't subdue the beast. It was as if it had simply been waiting its entire life to become a hollow. It was as if it had been a hollow well before this moment. The fight was never even a fight. Albus died. Yaksha Dokuja lived. And the beast was all too excited to make use of the new opportunity it had been given. It scoured the world, it spread itself wide...and yet for several millenia, the world was simply too small. The souls too pitiful, too spread out. They could never sate his hunger, could never fill the void within him.
It wasn't until the Renaissance that Yaksha could truly feed, and even then it was scant. He ate when he could, gorged when he felt the need. He spread himself across the world, learning as much of he could of the new and fascinating world. The world he wanted to be a part of. The world he had no intention of leaving. He met altogether too much competition, but he had grown good at running and better at lying. Albus had never found any need for rhetoric, but Yaksha Dokuja took to it like a fish to water.
He wandered the world, always finding some little outcast he could poke and prod. Always finding some person he could spill his venomous words into the ears of...until the 20th century. The advent of new technologies made the world too small. It brought people far too close together. And it drove Yaksha into Hueco Mundo for nearly a century before he resurfaced. Now, having developed a powerful taste for his brethren, he wishes nothing more than to find a way to blaze the trail he rightfully should've when alive.
RP Sample: Karakura town's latest library was haunted, and not even the most determined attempts to drive out the specter had worked. For the last two months, anyone entering a particular section of the building had quickly felt uneasy, and reported hearing voices speak to them. It had taken them weeks to take the people seriously, and begin to look into the past of the plot of land; some of them began to look into stories of strange deaths in the area, while still others tried to find out where all of their furniture had come from.
Yaksha had watched from day one, and laughed at their every attempt to make sense of what was going on. They were looking everywhere but the most obvious place, especially given the fact that this reported 'haunting' was always signified by several piles of books, neatly stacked on the floor. No one had ever SEEN the books move, of course Yaksha wouldn't be that obvious, but he always did enjoy watching them try to figure out why one stack had suddenly grown higher, and another lower. People were beginning to fight amongst each other, accusing everyone else of playing tricks on them. Yaksha simply watched, letting all of them bicker like children while he caught up on the infinite amounts of literature he'd missed since he'd passed on.
Finally, desperate for answers, they began to call in psychics from all around the globe. Most of them would walk inside, promptly call the place haunted, and begin to whip up some elaborate story about the ghost living there. Every time, it was a heart-wrenching tale, and every time Yaksha would applaud when it was through, though few of the psychics could tell. Those who did were often uneasy, claiming they were slightly ill, or had somewhere else to be very quickly. None of hem wanted to admit to seeing what they had.
Today in particular, Yaksha was hunched on one of the bookcases, looking down at the people. They had finished calling in psychics, and now they were moving onto full-fledged exorcists. Yaksha couldn't help but be excited to meet one. As soon as the hours of the library started, and people began to file in, Yaksha snatched a few books from the bookcase, beginning to juggle them slowly; people murmured, all whispering to each other about what was causing this. Finally, from the back of the crowd, an assertive voice came through, telling all the people to step aside and let him work. The murmurs grew louder as the juggling stopped, and one particular book floated in the air, only a few feet from the ceiling.
When the exorcist was finally close enough for Yaksha to see, he made sure to spread his mouth open as wide as possible, and reveal all of his jagged, meat-shearing teeth. "Have you ever read this one? I've heard it's a classic. I just can't get into it, but then again I've never liked any of this newer stuff. Give me a good old epic poem." He hefted the book in the air, twirling it lazily between two fingers, and watching the exorcist's expression go blank, and then pale as milk as he backed away, clearly trying not to scream.
"Oh, go on. Tell everyone what you see. I'm sure they'll all agree that you were very compelling. They might even make a movie about it. I wonder who they'd pick to play me~" He brought a clawed finger to his chin, chuckling once more, as he watched the exorcist run out, screaming about some manner of demon.
"Ah, some peace and quiet again. Back to the books, I suppose..." Yaksha loved the reading, but he had to confess he ended up counting the days between every time a person would actually see him.
Release Information:
(This is for future reference, you must acquire this techniques in-game, same with the process of Espada evolution)
Basic information:
Zanpakuto Name: Misericordia
Appearance: A thin stiletto dagger, roughly eight inches long. It's pitted with what appear to be either rust spots or very large splotches of blood, and they never seem to be in exactly the same spot when people look. It's relatively plain looking, without ornamentation or filigree. The only thing that makes it appear odd is that there's an image of a coiled snake around the hilt, with an emerald where the eyes would be.
Element: Poison
Spiritual Pressure Color: Lime Green
Cero Color: Green
Resurrección:
Resurrección Name: Relieur
Release Command: "Shine upon these pathetic souls, Misericordia."
Released Appearance: Yaksha grows noticably taller, and lankier as well. He appears to be very severely anorexic at a glance, from his spindly fingers to his bony face. His skin also begins to flake in a very distinctive way, resembling a snake's scales. His entire outfit turns into an overlapping suit of snakeskin, that perfectly clings to his contours without disturbing movement. Large black bags form under his eyes, and his body sweats profusely.
Descriptions: Yaksha's entire body becomes an enormous vial of toxin, able to produce any noxious substance he wants. From simple stink bombs to hemorrhagic fevers, Yaksha can cause the enemy's body to slowly shut down every minute. His poisons are numerous and deadly, not to mention how this works with his already unique anatomy.
Other Changes:
Techniques: (maximum techniques 6, re-use the form provided please)
Name: Gross Anatomy
State: Regular
Terms of usage: Passive
Description: Yaksha's bones are always covered in a very thin layer of reaitsu, almost too thin to notice. It does nothing to change their hardness, but makes them infinitely more flexible than normal. Yaksha can curl up into a ball no larger than his torso, or hide in spaces that it seems impossible for a man of his size to enter at first. Thanks to the plasticity of his body, it's damn hard to compare his actions to those of a normal person, or even of most other hollows.
Downside: While contorting, Yaksha's bones are especially weak to being broken if they're hit just right. As a general rule, Yaksha is an easy target if he's found or struck while in the process of straining his bones past the norm.
Name: Shed Skin
State: Regular
Terms of usage: Activated
Description: Any good reptile knows when to cut its losses and run...or turn the tide of battle. By shrouding any of his extremities in reaitsu, he can cause it to pop off painlessly, and land on the ground unharmed. This works well to deal with toxic substances or other forms of contagious abilities. In addition, Yaksha can still control the limb as if it were attached to himself, making it grab nearby items or fire cero.
Downside: Yaksha cannot regrow a new limb until the old one is destroyed, meaning that an effective way to shut down his combat strategy is to simply capture his stray limbs and leave with them.
Name: Hell's Bells
State: Regular
Terms of usage: Activated
Description: By coating his teeth in a thin layer of reaitsu, Yaksha can turn his own bite into a deadly venom, capable of felling enemies far stronger than himself. It's especially hard to deal with through traditional means, and is highly resistant to medical intervention; only particularly skilled medics can stop its effects.
Downside: Yaksha must maintain constant willpower to cause the poison's effects to persist, meaning no more than a single target can be harmed at one time, and he cannot use any active techniques while this one is in effect. However, in exchange he can reliably maintain distance until an enemy eventually succumbs.
Name: You Can't Hide!
State: Regular
Terms of usage: Passive
Description: Yaksha's tongue is coated in a very thick layer of reaitsu that allows him to capture spirit particles and scent particles with great ease. Through a simple flicker of his mouth, he can gain great awareness of the area around him, making it incredibly hard to hide from his awareness. It's also useful for helping him tell when an enemy is losing morale in a fight.
Downside: Yaksha's tongue is especially sensitive to damage, and has relatively little defenses. Removing it can cripple him pretty quickly, as he's grown very reliant on scent to give him information.
Name: Clear Intent
State: Regular
Terms of usage: Active
Description: By covering his own body in a thick layer of reaitsu, Yaksha can absorb any light particles that would normally bounce off of him, allowing him to become much harder to see. He typically appears as a shadowy blur while using this technique, and it can be very hard to see what he's doing.
Downside: This technique has very nearly no effect in brightly lit areas, as Yaksha's body can still be seen against the surrounding light. It only really allows for cover in dim or shadowy lighting, as it can be easy to confuse one patch of black for another.
Name: Culebra Cero
State: Regular
Terms of usage: Active
Description: Yaksha's cero are a thing of beauty to behold, as befuddling as the hollow himself. They seem to move in zig-zags and waves, coiling about through the air as if they were living creatures. Dodging his cero is an act of luck as much as skill, and there's no guarantee you won't dodge right back into the path.
Downside: Even Yaksha only has a vague awareness of where the cero will end up, meaning if he moves from the spot he's in when it's fired, there's a chance he'll be struck as well. The cero doesn't ever strike the area where he stands though, meaning an enemy clever enough to get within arm's reach usually has nothing to fear from these cero.
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