Description
Seijuro is older man, looking in his fifties. His face is weathered and scarred, with strong cheekbones and sunken cheeks. Three long identical scars run down the left side, obviously caused by claw marks. Hair, jet black at the base and then dyed solid white, is pulled into a long ponytail that runs down past his waist. On his lip and chin, is a thin fu manchu mustache that hangs down a little more than a foot. His skin, though tan, has an almost golden hue. This iss accented by two large, golden wings, folded behind his back. A scaled tail sways back and forth behind him, allowing him to easily keep his balance despite his massive build.
Physically, he was a great specimen. His head almost hits ceilings from a staggering seven foot height. His body isn’t toned, just muscular and looks around three hundred and fifty pounds. It is hidden under a solid black yukata with a golden dragon circled around it.
Personality
Seijuro is always happy and laughing. Occasionally, he spews cryptic metaphors with hidden messages in them. When quiet, he usually has his nose in a book (he calls himself a BookWyrm). He believes that someone as old as he is shouldn’t be offended and angered by infractions.
Equipment
Seijuro’s most important piece of equipment is his yukata. He has spells cast on it that gives the small pockets separate dimensions, allowing him to carry all kinds of odds-and-ends while not being encumbered (for D&D people, picture a bag of holding)
Past that, Seijuro has two weapons he uses, both of which he summons according to the situation.
The first is a massive, ten foot zanbatou forged from his own scales. He uses it primarily against demons, who need to be killed through massive collateral damage.
The second is an odd weapon, called a Notbura. It is about eight feet long, with a blunt bulb at one end and a serraded hook at the other end.
History
I never give histories. You want to know a history, roleplay with the character and ask. OOC, you don’t know him. Why should you know him IC?
So begins...
Quickpaw Hurojo awakes after having been asleep for several years. Around the area was only void. It was empty. Dark. Cold. "Where... where have the spirits placed me?" He started patting his body all over; ensuring that he was corporeal. "Not dead; that's a plus." Though there was no time to lose. If he was corporeal, that likely means that he could return to the world he knew, and hopefully return to his king. He began running, hoping to find an exit to this ethereal obscurity.
Sibael Rhodwyn looked around, finally staring one of the strangers in the face, "I don't remember you. Any of you, to be frank."