Post by Serraph on Nov 14, 2019 0:06:06 GMT -6
"My Friend, do you fly away now? To a world that abhors you and I?"
Name:
Serraph (Serra)
Alias:
Sixth Espada, The Scholar
Age:
236
Gender:
Male/Female: while Serraph owns his body, Serra, a powerful spirit that helps compose his being, has become more independent, allowing her to take control, changing the appearance of the body outright.
Race:
Arrancar- Arrancar are a subrace of Hollow, souls that have inverted on themselves as a result of remaining in the living realm instead of moving on, giving them powerful bodies and abilities with the cost of an endless hunger for other souls. Arrancar are formed when they discard their mask, allowing them to take on human-like forms and potentially rid themselves of the hunger. The mask, however, is an important part of their soul, and such they'll never truly be able to be fully human and generally hold on to a single aspect in which they represent to the nth degree. Serraph's aspect is Curiosity.
Alignment:
Nuetral Good/Evil - Serraph is inhabited by another spirit who has a distinct taste for bloodshed. Though, if allowed, she would slay countless to sate her lust, she is bound to Serraph.
Pre-existing or Original:
Original, based originally from the bleach universe, a continuation from another site.
Date of Birth:
November 16, 1923
Place of Birth:
Virginia, United States
Physical Description:
"In Los Noches, the Hollows howl. Between the corpses, endless dunes. They mark their place, beneath the sky. A lonely moon, a silent sigh."
"You were my better, inheritor of all I left behind. You are a true Arrancar, but you are mine."
Serraph in his Arrancar stage is a far cry from the stages that came before. The first noticeable difference between his previous forms is the presence of color.The second would undoubtedly be the the smaller and thinner frame. One could attest that, at first glance, this form of his is fairly human. However, upon a deeper inspection that same person might notice a bit odd when comparing him to the normal human.
His hair is a ruby-like crimson that sits in a semi-messy state atop his head falling to the middle of his neck. His bangs are parted lightly to the right, covering the three centimeter wide hollow hole existing just about his right eyebrow. Fortunately for him, his hair is rigid and thick enough to hold its molded shape in order to hide it from the world around him. Like his hair, his eyebrows are the same unnatural ruby color, as well as any other hair on his body.
His face is unmarred and often plagued by that amused smile of his. One would even note how well his youth has benefited him over the years, despite the inhumanly papery quality. His left eye is of similar hue to his hair, but is far more reflective; The crimson iris would have the similar appearance to a polished ruby. The right eye represents his color scheme from when he was a hollow, the blackness of the ink in his veins and the pale white of his flesh. The iris itself is of an opaque white do to it, in actuality, being his mask fragment, while the sclera is black. His number tattoo is located at his left midriff.
His skin is fair without the smallest of scars to mar its angelic perfection. However, it isn’t as smooth as one would believe it to be. It has a paper-like feel to it and is quite grainy in certain places such as his hands, the bottoms of his feet, his knees, and elbows. When dry it cracks and peels away like old parchment. In the sun, one could see the various black veins and arteries that carry his black “Blood” throughout his body. When Released his hair grows out and four wings sprout from his back. The wings, although can change per his release ability, as a base are pure white with crimson highlights near the end of each feather. Additionally they are stained black in places from the abundance of ink flowing from him. A halo of pure reiatsu hovers above his head, constantly spinning at rapid speeds.
Serraph's voice is one of an experienced orator. Not too deep, not too light, though his voice is loud enough to carry to all those who he'd have listen. He speaks without a particular accent, but does take care to replicate those of other languages should he qoute passages in those respective languages if only for a bit more accuracy. His voice flows well and pleasantly, but one may find it irritating as he speaks in the same, flat, narrative quality as if every word he speaks has been read from a passage.
Serraph's Voice sample
Voice Sample
The most interesting difference between his arrancar self and his former hollow self, and perhaps even his fellow arrancar, is his physiology. He is human in shape and perhaps certain mannerisms but not entirely. His brain, for example, consists of finely folded pieces of paper submerged in a oily fluid. In the place of normal synapses, tiny quill-tip-like appendages within the mind literally writes his memories within the countless folds of paper. To recall the memories he need only to send a surge of his reiatsu through the fluid the mind is suspended in, which catches the quill tips and follows them to the appropriate memory.
Another difference would be his core organs. His lungs are book lungs (similar to a spider’s). Because of this, he does have six long and narrow slits along his back that passively collect the air he needs. If he has trouble breathing in this way, he still has a diaphragm to breathe in the normal, human manner if the amount of oxygen passively taken in is not enough. These slits expand to allow his wings to grow upon ressureccion. From there breathing works normally.
Within his chest beats two hearts. One pumps in the black carbon or metallic solvents (depends on his diet) while the other pumps in lubricants, surfactants, and other things essential for his ink. The two hearts lead directly into a third chamber within his chest cavity which mixes the two solutions together. From there the ink travels along the various arteries to his “Muscles”. These “Muscles” are similar to his his brain in the fact that it contains very small written instructions that tell it how “Muscles” should operate.
Reiatsu flows through these folds of paper, causing the instructions to be receptive to his “Brain.” This is the rule his organs and various body parts follow. When the ink becomes depleted of certain substances, it is diverted off the arterial path into the appropriate vein network, which separates the solvent from the solution and sends it back to the heart to be revitalized.
His digestive system is possibly the biggest change from that of normal human digestion. His stomach resembles something akin to a paper shredder before it hits the stomach. Liquids are caught here in a digestive pocket to convert it into a material his body could create ink out of more easily. In his “stomach” the dry material is absorbed into his body and distributed to where it is needed.
Due to his physiology, one may spot the difference in his movements compared to the normal person. Sure, he may walk like a human, but each step is calculated and carried with a certain amount of lightly applied grace. Rarely does he breath like a human, due to how his lungs work, so one may spot the lack of warm breath exiting from between his lips in colder environments, but rather from his back, and even then it shan't be too noticeable. One stumbling upon his body will likely believe him dead. After all, he doesn't breath like normal humans. In an unconscious state he is completely still.
That being said, when in the presence of others and when it seems appropriate, he will often animate himself. Whether by flowing gestures or brushing the hair from his eyes, he'll make an effort to make sure at least a small amount of movement when encountering others. This keeps some attention on him, though he could stop at anytime, making himself as still as a rock undisturbed.
As far as his attire is concerned, Serraph has, or has the potential, for a wide range of wear. He is a curious being even when it comes to clothing. Despite this, he chooses to wear a rather normal Espada uniform when working as his position of Espada. His jacket is long and slim, but just not quite too form fitting. Lining the inside of this jacket is a series of loops sown into it that holds his arsenal of pens of varying design. He wears a pair of tight cloth gloves with extras dwelling in his jacket pocket. When on Espada related business within Hueco Mundo, his jacket and undershirt cuts off just at his midriff, showing off his slim midriff and the black Espada tattoo there. When venturing out outside Hueco Mundo, the jacket he'll choose to wear is a bit longer and hides his midriff.
His hakama flows to just below his calves, providing plenty of room for this speedy boi to do his thing, *ahem*. He wears the standard boots that come along with the uniform, nothing too fancy. When venturing out into the sunlight, he'll carry along a black umbrella or wide-brimmedhat, or whatever he can find to cast a shadow upon himself and shield himself from the sun's angry glare.
Serra shares a few of the physical tendencies that Serraph does. When she takes control, the body's internal make up does not change, only the appearance (See picture above for reference). Notibly the body becomes more feminine in nature, representing that of a mature woman. Her hair grows out to her waist and is more neatly kept than her counterpart's
As far as clothing is concerned, she adores lavish, tight-fitting dresses, but isn't opposed to simple, grittier outfits like rusted armor. As a former queen of her savage race, she knows well that you take what you can get. She enjoys the color red, most of all, and this love is what gives Serraph the crimson hair and eyes he exhibits.
Special Abilities:
Serraph sports a variety of abilities and powers thanks to his racial traits, or so he did at one time. Leaving Omni's realm has stripped many of these away, but he still retains a decent amount of abilities.
+Speed: Serraph can move and wickedly fast speeds, almost making him a blur on the battlefield or the library when he gets serious. It is able to push himself faster, moving faster than the normal human eye can track, albit temporarily and not longer than a split second. Even still, his strength maybe that of a fit human and his durability maybe the weakest of his former organisation.
+Mimicry: His former sword's ability was to allow him to perfectly mimic powers and abilities he witness, even going as far as to change his body to make it possible. He retains that power here, but the resurgeance of Serra has induced a limitation on the ability. Only his other can use these abilities when she is called out by him, and vice versa when their roles swap (Explained next). A caveat to this is the manipulation of spiritual energy to perform various techniques such as flying or an energy wave, for an example. As a being comprised of such energy, manipulation of such things do come a bit more natural to him than other things.
+Soul Seperation: Psuedo-Stand. "Rammstein/C.C.R.": in the latter days of his long time in Omni's Astral Realm, Serraph intuned himself with his other, and has gained the ability to call her out temporarily to fight by his side, phasing out from within him. She can only move within a fifty foot diameter of him, and to move out of this range will force a "Body Swap", giving her command of his body and making him the "Psuedo-Stand".
Weapons:
Libro: A white Rapier that once was his zanpakuto, holding his sealed powers. After becoming a prime by the child god Omni, the powers became integrated into himself, removing the need for something to seal them into. Despite this, he carries it on his person.
History: Serraph Quarrere was born in 1923 in Virginia, USA. Being born to a wealthy family during a time of great prosperity was a boon to the boy. His early childhood was spent doing whatever young kids in this era do. Their estate was one of sizable esteem among the town nearby as well as sizable... well... size. Whether it was helping his mother in her rose garden or learning alongside his father how the hell an Automobile works, and his extensive homeschooling, Serraph learn a lot about how his life would have been.
Unfortunately, this grand time wouldn't last. As the stock markets crashed so too did a sizable portion of his family's assets. His family's well withstood the initial hit, but as things became worse and worse, Serraph's parents doubted in their ability to protect their property from those who have lost everything and saw the boy's family's wealth as an opportunity. The plans for Serraph's future would change for the time being, and thus he was sent to London to stay with his Uncle.
From there he'd finish his schooling and attend university. Serraph's father assumed by the time he finished schooling, the economic environment back home would be safe enough for Serraph to enter the family's business officially. This would not be the case. The outbreak of war occurred, dashing any hopes of Serraph's return in a timely manner. The seas were not safe, afterall. He'd stay, working alongside his uncle at his library.
It was here he gained the passion for reading and collecting. Through his efforts the library grew and grew. Near the end of Serraph's life, his uncle began to notice this dilemma. The young man had gone beyond his curious nature and developed quite the fanaticism for his passion. Fearing for the young man's mentality, Serraph's uncle forbid him from the library, and confined him to the house whenever the Uncle went to work. How long was he imprisoned? Days? Months? Years?
It didn't matter how long he was kept away from what he wanted, what he needed, what he deserved. When the day came when thunder filled the sky and the earth quaked, he would be freed. Shrapnel from a nearby bomb impact shredded the one thing keeping him inside, and so he went. He didn't care why his Uncle locked him away or the fact he never came home the other night. He didn't care about the german bombers thundering above him or the explosions riddling the street with rubble.
He arrived at the library, which was now partly crumbling a part from a nearby blast. Sirens pierced the air, but that didn't matter. Serraph went to work scooping out piles of books and texts. In his frantic consumption, he forgot just how old the library's shelves were. All it took was another detonation by the building to topple the shelves over, catching and crushing him beneath the weight of his obsession. Even while he was dying, his lungs crushed and his limbs snapped like twigs, he cursed himself that he could have done more. He could have learned more.
His spirit however simply couldn't move on. There was still so much to see, so much to do, and so much to learn for it to be over. For the next year his spirit remained there in that pile of rubble that was his library. He was able to take in as much as he had wanted, but he couldn't keep looters away from what he cherished most in this Unlife. His soul chain bound him to this place. Because of this he couldn't set out to consume more of this valuable "Resource".
Serraph was driven mad near the end of his year as a disembodied soul. No more books to read, no music to listen to, nothing new to learn; this was all to much for his poor heart to bear. He deteriorated as a snail's pace, subjecting him to a pain that to this current day he could never forget. It was if one had lit a fire within his chest the cooked himself from within at the slowest of paces. By the time that year had passed, he could barely be recognizable as human
Nay, he had evolved into something else entirely. With a hole in his chest and a pair of decaying wings, he set forth on what his year of smoldering suffering had prepared him for. All across England's main island professors would go missing and museums and art galleries would go ransacked. Under the chaos of the war this would go unnoticed by the government whose focuses were squared solely on their German foes and future involvement in the war.
The initial hunger was sated, but for one as what he had become, that couldn't cure his famished nature. No, he'd cross the channel and make landfall in German occupied France. When he was alive he had heard that the 3rd reich had a particular taste for art and artifacts of old and had been amassing quite the collection over the course of the war. This gave the Hollow quite the delectable idea. He'd strike across Europe and spend the next few years collecting information on where these particular caches of priceless pieces would be.
At this point of time he had already gained familiarity with Hueco Mundo and learned the evolution path he could potentially travel. He found beings much stronger than he in the Arrancar and the group occupying Los Noches, The Espada. Between busting open artifact caches in war-torn Europe and observing the great city in Hueco Mundo, The Hollow found his busy new life tolerable at least. Constantly devouring priceless works and devouring the many bound souls left over after a battle had allowed Serraph to grow a great deal.
By the war's end he had grown to the state of Adjuchas and had spent most of his time investigating Los Noches. The city was massive, that fact was certain, but he determined the dome's exact diameter and thickness. He found all of the entrances inside (at the time) and determined a rough estimate for the Espada's strength in Numbers. Needless to say he was impressed on how small the group actually were. Sure there was a number of lower powered entities inside, but there were only a handful of notable powers.
He could feel them for at least a mile or two away. He had theorized that was the case due to the sheer number. It certainly seemed so from afar when taking into account the massive size of the "City". This piqued the now Adjuchas-class hollow. He'd have to get inside, but he'd have to do it on good terms. Though strong, each of these powers were much much stronger than he. Fortunately, his curiosity hadn't gone unnoticed. The sixth Espada found him atop the city after he had climbed it.
It was from him Serraph heard of an old Hollow living on the edges of the Espada's influence. According to this Espada, the Hollow did not currently pursue hostilities with the more powerful beings inhabiting the castle of Los Noches, but for how long can this last? He spoke of the growing amount of Hollow-kind submitting themselves to her. To the Espada, this could deprive themselves of Fresh candidates for their organization. Furthermore a larger pool to select from could produce a greater number of stronger servants than a smaller pool.
If Serraph could take care of this "Threat" he'd be allowed within the sanctum of Los Noches. As much as the Adjuchas hated it, it seemed to be the very thing was looking for. To seal the deal Serraph slit his palm and offered it to the Espada. Puzzled, he followed suit. To the Espada this was merely a blood pact, solidifying their agreement. To Serraph, it was something else entirely. It was true that contracts written on his flesh were binding, but this Espada had no way of knowing this. If Serraph needed an out, he was not obligated to hold his end of the bargain.
Still, his curiosity drove him on to investigate and, with perfect intelligence provided by this particular Espada, happened across this troublesome Hollow. She and her followers had errected a jagged fortress of sharp rocks and lined it with ancient appearing statues. Clashing against the monotony of the dunes, this landmark was hard to ignore. He met with the Hollow within and conversed with this being. Clad in a dress of crimson hollowed skin and adorned with artifacts of old, she obliged the curious Seraph and spoke for awhile.
Though wise, she did not speak in riddles. Though intelligent, she was not above making her thoughts understood. Though physically weak, her aura held all in check within her sanctum. Her name was Serra. She had offered him a place in her home, along with many who had stumbled upon this place, and he agreed, on one condition: He would serve beneath her until he felt there was nothing else to learn and would do what was necessary to ensure her well being until that point came. She was impressed of his bluntness and accepted this. To bind the agreement, Serraph had him carve it over his back.
He would serve beneath her for many years, but something began to worry Serraph. The red queen's condition was deteriorating. Even her amazing aura began to diminished. When questioned, she explained that her age would never been able to erase her from this earth if it weren't for a wound she had been harboring for centuries. This wound was given to her by one of her earliest followers and required her to drink from a reishi dense oasis, a rare phenomena unknown to most. Devouring others no longer helped her hunger. Only this water helped sate the pain and fend off her wound's grip.
Fortunately she knew of one location and sent Serraph and a party of five to collect some of this water for her to consume. The group was worried for her, but was resolute in their task, except for one. This Hollow was a massive monstrosity of steel like armor and cannon like appendages sticking out from his gargantuan size. To him this was a helpless cause and the best service to her was to let her fade away. In their memories she could live forever, but once this oasis depletes completely, she would be helpless anyhow.
The Hollow went by the name of Bismark, and Serraph had learned over the years that he was a gunner aboard the german ship with that same name. As a plus, the man went mad as he was unable to pass on but unable to seek safety as he was bound to the ship's sunken wreckage. He truly believed he was the ship itsself reincarnated as this monstrous beast. As his namesake once sailed the seas under the power of its powerful engines, so did this beast sailed through the dunes, until a disagreement occured between him and the rest of the party. He ejected them and moved on towards the oasis, determined in his new goal.
When Serraph found him, the oasis had been destroyed, erased from this world by its devastating cannons. Filled with rage, the group attacked the behemoth, save for Serraph. Serraph hung back and let the weaker hollows wear down the enemy's defenses. Bismark slayed the group before him, but at the cost of its strength and stamina. It was easy work to put the beast down for good.
The long journey back was brutal on his psyche. He had agreed to keep her in a state of good well-being so long as she was able to feed him the knowledge he craved. Now he was in danger of failing his part of the bargain and thus he'd lose what he sought. It was difficult, but he had to make a decision. The contract could not be followed as it stood, not anymore. He filled the water pouch given to him by Serra and filled it with his own ink. Such a thing should be enough to fool her as his ink-like blood was drenched in spiritual energy.
It would prove that his efforts were successful. As he returned "Home" Serra was delighted in his "Success", but had deteriorated at a frightening speed during his absence. She appeared as if she were flaking away, her flesh turned to sand in various places. Serraph knew what had to be done. Approaching the red queen, Serraph distracted her by splashing her with the unexpected ink. With that opening, the Adjuchas wounded her further and devoured her quickly as she flailed in her confusion.
She wasn't about to let herself fade out like this. Serra drew back her aura as she was being devoured and concentrated it upon Serraph. Slowly, as her essence began to take control of him. As much as he hated it, he had to perform the one action he preferred to wait down the line, the act of breaking his mask. Under Serra, Serraph had learned the specifics of such a thing, how it transformed the hollow as they were at that moment into something more human. In this human form, they were like a snapshot of their more human aspects with their releases becoming a snapshot of their more hollow aspects.
Serraph used this desperation and knowledge to break his mask and perform Arrancarification upon himself. This halted the growing influence of the red queen on his body, but it didn't quite get rid of her. Nay, it fused the two together. The remains of her personality and features were superimposed on himself. Although he was technically the same mostly, he was had become someone else entirely. He still held a great curiosity within him, but at the same time a sense of loyalty, passion, and vengeance were given boosts in his heart.
He had gained the remnants of Serra's knowledge. Although it was fractured, the length of her lifespan was enough to keep him entertained for years to come, though he wouldn't become inactive like Serra was before. Serraph took on his name at this point, the last act of loyalty to the red queen and returned to Los Noches. There was still a matter to take care of, the reckoning of the Espada that sent him down this road. Years later from that day years prior, the two met again outside the dome of Los Noches.
The Espada made his surprise known and congratulated Serraph on the success of his mission and his transformation to Arrancar. They shook once again firmly, their slit palms pressing into each other to signify the end to their agreement. They would talk for a time, walking the perimeter of Los Noches as they did. The man was increasingly interested in the various forms Hollows and Arrancar could take and urged Serraph to show him, and so he did. As he released, the ink from his blood activated and invaded the Espada, overflowing him with a sense of weakness.
Serraph gave him not another word as he ran him through in that moment of surprise, similarly to his tactics with the red queen. He had gained the man's trust and the man paid for it with his life. As the former Espada fell on his face and died, the man's former comrades arrived to investigate the the massive influx of Reiatsu. They witness the former 6th Espada's dying moments and offered Serraph an ultimatum: He would take the dead man's place as the 6th Espada or he would be considered an Enemy and fall alongside him.
Now doing all that he had to do to simply perish afterwards is no good to anyone and this gave Serraph the perfect opportunity he needed to enter Los Noches and gain the security he wanted all along. The power of an Espada is valuable to this organization from what he saw. So long as he provided the minimal effort needed to make the organization happy with his role, he should be secure to do whatever he pleased.
Wonderful~
He wasn't the most popular of the group, but Serraph, as he called himself now, forced them all in his own way to recognize his importance. After all, without that recognition, he would be weeded out and destroyed by the stronger members. In the end, it would seem it was all in vain, as the smiling one would reach out with his almighty hand and pluck him from his library in Los Noches... but... this wasn't so bad. In this new realm, he would recognize that this place held infinite possibilities, he'd just have to start looking.
And look he did. He became the personal librarian to kings, and ventured deep into the inner workings of this God's toybox. This Astral Realm tested the former Espada, making him more than he was. The reward for his tribulation allowed him to escape, but not to his own realm. No.
A new world awaits The Scholar.
"Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return."
Name:
Serraph (Serra)
Alias:
Sixth Espada, The Scholar
Age:
236
Gender:
Male/Female: while Serraph owns his body, Serra, a powerful spirit that helps compose his being, has become more independent, allowing her to take control, changing the appearance of the body outright.
Race:
Arrancar- Arrancar are a subrace of Hollow, souls that have inverted on themselves as a result of remaining in the living realm instead of moving on, giving them powerful bodies and abilities with the cost of an endless hunger for other souls. Arrancar are formed when they discard their mask, allowing them to take on human-like forms and potentially rid themselves of the hunger. The mask, however, is an important part of their soul, and such they'll never truly be able to be fully human and generally hold on to a single aspect in which they represent to the nth degree. Serraph's aspect is Curiosity.
Alignment:
Nuetral Good/Evil - Serraph is inhabited by another spirit who has a distinct taste for bloodshed. Though, if allowed, she would slay countless to sate her lust, she is bound to Serraph.
Pre-existing or Original:
Original, based originally from the bleach universe, a continuation from another site.
Date of Birth:
November 16, 1923
Place of Birth:
Virginia, United States
Physical Description:
"In Los Noches, the Hollows howl. Between the corpses, endless dunes. They mark their place, beneath the sky. A lonely moon, a silent sigh."
"You were my better, inheritor of all I left behind. You are a true Arrancar, but you are mine."
Serraph in his Arrancar stage is a far cry from the stages that came before. The first noticeable difference between his previous forms is the presence of color.The second would undoubtedly be the the smaller and thinner frame. One could attest that, at first glance, this form of his is fairly human. However, upon a deeper inspection that same person might notice a bit odd when comparing him to the normal human.
His hair is a ruby-like crimson that sits in a semi-messy state atop his head falling to the middle of his neck. His bangs are parted lightly to the right, covering the three centimeter wide hollow hole existing just about his right eyebrow. Fortunately for him, his hair is rigid and thick enough to hold its molded shape in order to hide it from the world around him. Like his hair, his eyebrows are the same unnatural ruby color, as well as any other hair on his body.
His face is unmarred and often plagued by that amused smile of his. One would even note how well his youth has benefited him over the years, despite the inhumanly papery quality. His left eye is of similar hue to his hair, but is far more reflective; The crimson iris would have the similar appearance to a polished ruby. The right eye represents his color scheme from when he was a hollow, the blackness of the ink in his veins and the pale white of his flesh. The iris itself is of an opaque white do to it, in actuality, being his mask fragment, while the sclera is black. His number tattoo is located at his left midriff.
His skin is fair without the smallest of scars to mar its angelic perfection. However, it isn’t as smooth as one would believe it to be. It has a paper-like feel to it and is quite grainy in certain places such as his hands, the bottoms of his feet, his knees, and elbows. When dry it cracks and peels away like old parchment. In the sun, one could see the various black veins and arteries that carry his black “Blood” throughout his body. When Released his hair grows out and four wings sprout from his back. The wings, although can change per his release ability, as a base are pure white with crimson highlights near the end of each feather. Additionally they are stained black in places from the abundance of ink flowing from him. A halo of pure reiatsu hovers above his head, constantly spinning at rapid speeds.
Serraph's voice is one of an experienced orator. Not too deep, not too light, though his voice is loud enough to carry to all those who he'd have listen. He speaks without a particular accent, but does take care to replicate those of other languages should he qoute passages in those respective languages if only for a bit more accuracy. His voice flows well and pleasantly, but one may find it irritating as he speaks in the same, flat, narrative quality as if every word he speaks has been read from a passage.
Serraph's Voice sample
Voice Sample
The most interesting difference between his arrancar self and his former hollow self, and perhaps even his fellow arrancar, is his physiology. He is human in shape and perhaps certain mannerisms but not entirely. His brain, for example, consists of finely folded pieces of paper submerged in a oily fluid. In the place of normal synapses, tiny quill-tip-like appendages within the mind literally writes his memories within the countless folds of paper. To recall the memories he need only to send a surge of his reiatsu through the fluid the mind is suspended in, which catches the quill tips and follows them to the appropriate memory.
Another difference would be his core organs. His lungs are book lungs (similar to a spider’s). Because of this, he does have six long and narrow slits along his back that passively collect the air he needs. If he has trouble breathing in this way, he still has a diaphragm to breathe in the normal, human manner if the amount of oxygen passively taken in is not enough. These slits expand to allow his wings to grow upon ressureccion. From there breathing works normally.
Within his chest beats two hearts. One pumps in the black carbon or metallic solvents (depends on his diet) while the other pumps in lubricants, surfactants, and other things essential for his ink. The two hearts lead directly into a third chamber within his chest cavity which mixes the two solutions together. From there the ink travels along the various arteries to his “Muscles”. These “Muscles” are similar to his his brain in the fact that it contains very small written instructions that tell it how “Muscles” should operate.
Reiatsu flows through these folds of paper, causing the instructions to be receptive to his “Brain.” This is the rule his organs and various body parts follow. When the ink becomes depleted of certain substances, it is diverted off the arterial path into the appropriate vein network, which separates the solvent from the solution and sends it back to the heart to be revitalized.
His digestive system is possibly the biggest change from that of normal human digestion. His stomach resembles something akin to a paper shredder before it hits the stomach. Liquids are caught here in a digestive pocket to convert it into a material his body could create ink out of more easily. In his “stomach” the dry material is absorbed into his body and distributed to where it is needed.
Due to his physiology, one may spot the difference in his movements compared to the normal person. Sure, he may walk like a human, but each step is calculated and carried with a certain amount of lightly applied grace. Rarely does he breath like a human, due to how his lungs work, so one may spot the lack of warm breath exiting from between his lips in colder environments, but rather from his back, and even then it shan't be too noticeable. One stumbling upon his body will likely believe him dead. After all, he doesn't breath like normal humans. In an unconscious state he is completely still.
That being said, when in the presence of others and when it seems appropriate, he will often animate himself. Whether by flowing gestures or brushing the hair from his eyes, he'll make an effort to make sure at least a small amount of movement when encountering others. This keeps some attention on him, though he could stop at anytime, making himself as still as a rock undisturbed.
As far as his attire is concerned, Serraph has, or has the potential, for a wide range of wear. He is a curious being even when it comes to clothing. Despite this, he chooses to wear a rather normal Espada uniform when working as his position of Espada. His jacket is long and slim, but just not quite too form fitting. Lining the inside of this jacket is a series of loops sown into it that holds his arsenal of pens of varying design. He wears a pair of tight cloth gloves with extras dwelling in his jacket pocket. When on Espada related business within Hueco Mundo, his jacket and undershirt cuts off just at his midriff, showing off his slim midriff and the black Espada tattoo there. When venturing out outside Hueco Mundo, the jacket he'll choose to wear is a bit longer and hides his midriff.
His hakama flows to just below his calves, providing plenty of room for this speedy boi to do his thing, *ahem*. He wears the standard boots that come along with the uniform, nothing too fancy. When venturing out into the sunlight, he'll carry along a black umbrella or wide-brimmedhat, or whatever he can find to cast a shadow upon himself and shield himself from the sun's angry glare.
Serra shares a few of the physical tendencies that Serraph does. When she takes control, the body's internal make up does not change, only the appearance (See picture above for reference). Notibly the body becomes more feminine in nature, representing that of a mature woman. Her hair grows out to her waist and is more neatly kept than her counterpart's
As far as clothing is concerned, she adores lavish, tight-fitting dresses, but isn't opposed to simple, grittier outfits like rusted armor. As a former queen of her savage race, she knows well that you take what you can get. She enjoys the color red, most of all, and this love is what gives Serraph the crimson hair and eyes he exhibits.
Special Abilities:
Serraph sports a variety of abilities and powers thanks to his racial traits, or so he did at one time. Leaving Omni's realm has stripped many of these away, but he still retains a decent amount of abilities.
+Speed: Serraph can move and wickedly fast speeds, almost making him a blur on the battlefield or the library when he gets serious. It is able to push himself faster, moving faster than the normal human eye can track, albit temporarily and not longer than a split second. Even still, his strength maybe that of a fit human and his durability maybe the weakest of his former organisation.
+Mimicry: His former sword's ability was to allow him to perfectly mimic powers and abilities he witness, even going as far as to change his body to make it possible. He retains that power here, but the resurgeance of Serra has induced a limitation on the ability. Only his other can use these abilities when she is called out by him, and vice versa when their roles swap (Explained next). A caveat to this is the manipulation of spiritual energy to perform various techniques such as flying or an energy wave, for an example. As a being comprised of such energy, manipulation of such things do come a bit more natural to him than other things.
+Soul Seperation: Psuedo-Stand. "Rammstein/C.C.R.": in the latter days of his long time in Omni's Astral Realm, Serraph intuned himself with his other, and has gained the ability to call her out temporarily to fight by his side, phasing out from within him. She can only move within a fifty foot diameter of him, and to move out of this range will force a "Body Swap", giving her command of his body and making him the "Psuedo-Stand".
Weapons:
Libro: A white Rapier that once was his zanpakuto, holding his sealed powers. After becoming a prime by the child god Omni, the powers became integrated into himself, removing the need for something to seal them into. Despite this, he carries it on his person.
History: Serraph Quarrere was born in 1923 in Virginia, USA. Being born to a wealthy family during a time of great prosperity was a boon to the boy. His early childhood was spent doing whatever young kids in this era do. Their estate was one of sizable esteem among the town nearby as well as sizable... well... size. Whether it was helping his mother in her rose garden or learning alongside his father how the hell an Automobile works, and his extensive homeschooling, Serraph learn a lot about how his life would have been.
Unfortunately, this grand time wouldn't last. As the stock markets crashed so too did a sizable portion of his family's assets. His family's well withstood the initial hit, but as things became worse and worse, Serraph's parents doubted in their ability to protect their property from those who have lost everything and saw the boy's family's wealth as an opportunity. The plans for Serraph's future would change for the time being, and thus he was sent to London to stay with his Uncle.
From there he'd finish his schooling and attend university. Serraph's father assumed by the time he finished schooling, the economic environment back home would be safe enough for Serraph to enter the family's business officially. This would not be the case. The outbreak of war occurred, dashing any hopes of Serraph's return in a timely manner. The seas were not safe, afterall. He'd stay, working alongside his uncle at his library.
It was here he gained the passion for reading and collecting. Through his efforts the library grew and grew. Near the end of Serraph's life, his uncle began to notice this dilemma. The young man had gone beyond his curious nature and developed quite the fanaticism for his passion. Fearing for the young man's mentality, Serraph's uncle forbid him from the library, and confined him to the house whenever the Uncle went to work. How long was he imprisoned? Days? Months? Years?
It didn't matter how long he was kept away from what he wanted, what he needed, what he deserved. When the day came when thunder filled the sky and the earth quaked, he would be freed. Shrapnel from a nearby bomb impact shredded the one thing keeping him inside, and so he went. He didn't care why his Uncle locked him away or the fact he never came home the other night. He didn't care about the german bombers thundering above him or the explosions riddling the street with rubble.
He arrived at the library, which was now partly crumbling a part from a nearby blast. Sirens pierced the air, but that didn't matter. Serraph went to work scooping out piles of books and texts. In his frantic consumption, he forgot just how old the library's shelves were. All it took was another detonation by the building to topple the shelves over, catching and crushing him beneath the weight of his obsession. Even while he was dying, his lungs crushed and his limbs snapped like twigs, he cursed himself that he could have done more. He could have learned more.
His spirit however simply couldn't move on. There was still so much to see, so much to do, and so much to learn for it to be over. For the next year his spirit remained there in that pile of rubble that was his library. He was able to take in as much as he had wanted, but he couldn't keep looters away from what he cherished most in this Unlife. His soul chain bound him to this place. Because of this he couldn't set out to consume more of this valuable "Resource".
Serraph was driven mad near the end of his year as a disembodied soul. No more books to read, no music to listen to, nothing new to learn; this was all to much for his poor heart to bear. He deteriorated as a snail's pace, subjecting him to a pain that to this current day he could never forget. It was if one had lit a fire within his chest the cooked himself from within at the slowest of paces. By the time that year had passed, he could barely be recognizable as human
Nay, he had evolved into something else entirely. With a hole in his chest and a pair of decaying wings, he set forth on what his year of smoldering suffering had prepared him for. All across England's main island professors would go missing and museums and art galleries would go ransacked. Under the chaos of the war this would go unnoticed by the government whose focuses were squared solely on their German foes and future involvement in the war.
The initial hunger was sated, but for one as what he had become, that couldn't cure his famished nature. No, he'd cross the channel and make landfall in German occupied France. When he was alive he had heard that the 3rd reich had a particular taste for art and artifacts of old and had been amassing quite the collection over the course of the war. This gave the Hollow quite the delectable idea. He'd strike across Europe and spend the next few years collecting information on where these particular caches of priceless pieces would be.
At this point of time he had already gained familiarity with Hueco Mundo and learned the evolution path he could potentially travel. He found beings much stronger than he in the Arrancar and the group occupying Los Noches, The Espada. Between busting open artifact caches in war-torn Europe and observing the great city in Hueco Mundo, The Hollow found his busy new life tolerable at least. Constantly devouring priceless works and devouring the many bound souls left over after a battle had allowed Serraph to grow a great deal.
By the war's end he had grown to the state of Adjuchas and had spent most of his time investigating Los Noches. The city was massive, that fact was certain, but he determined the dome's exact diameter and thickness. He found all of the entrances inside (at the time) and determined a rough estimate for the Espada's strength in Numbers. Needless to say he was impressed on how small the group actually were. Sure there was a number of lower powered entities inside, but there were only a handful of notable powers.
He could feel them for at least a mile or two away. He had theorized that was the case due to the sheer number. It certainly seemed so from afar when taking into account the massive size of the "City". This piqued the now Adjuchas-class hollow. He'd have to get inside, but he'd have to do it on good terms. Though strong, each of these powers were much much stronger than he. Fortunately, his curiosity hadn't gone unnoticed. The sixth Espada found him atop the city after he had climbed it.
It was from him Serraph heard of an old Hollow living on the edges of the Espada's influence. According to this Espada, the Hollow did not currently pursue hostilities with the more powerful beings inhabiting the castle of Los Noches, but for how long can this last? He spoke of the growing amount of Hollow-kind submitting themselves to her. To the Espada, this could deprive themselves of Fresh candidates for their organization. Furthermore a larger pool to select from could produce a greater number of stronger servants than a smaller pool.
If Serraph could take care of this "Threat" he'd be allowed within the sanctum of Los Noches. As much as the Adjuchas hated it, it seemed to be the very thing was looking for. To seal the deal Serraph slit his palm and offered it to the Espada. Puzzled, he followed suit. To the Espada this was merely a blood pact, solidifying their agreement. To Serraph, it was something else entirely. It was true that contracts written on his flesh were binding, but this Espada had no way of knowing this. If Serraph needed an out, he was not obligated to hold his end of the bargain.
Still, his curiosity drove him on to investigate and, with perfect intelligence provided by this particular Espada, happened across this troublesome Hollow. She and her followers had errected a jagged fortress of sharp rocks and lined it with ancient appearing statues. Clashing against the monotony of the dunes, this landmark was hard to ignore. He met with the Hollow within and conversed with this being. Clad in a dress of crimson hollowed skin and adorned with artifacts of old, she obliged the curious Seraph and spoke for awhile.
Though wise, she did not speak in riddles. Though intelligent, she was not above making her thoughts understood. Though physically weak, her aura held all in check within her sanctum. Her name was Serra. She had offered him a place in her home, along with many who had stumbled upon this place, and he agreed, on one condition: He would serve beneath her until he felt there was nothing else to learn and would do what was necessary to ensure her well being until that point came. She was impressed of his bluntness and accepted this. To bind the agreement, Serraph had him carve it over his back.
He would serve beneath her for many years, but something began to worry Serraph. The red queen's condition was deteriorating. Even her amazing aura began to diminished. When questioned, she explained that her age would never been able to erase her from this earth if it weren't for a wound she had been harboring for centuries. This wound was given to her by one of her earliest followers and required her to drink from a reishi dense oasis, a rare phenomena unknown to most. Devouring others no longer helped her hunger. Only this water helped sate the pain and fend off her wound's grip.
Fortunately she knew of one location and sent Serraph and a party of five to collect some of this water for her to consume. The group was worried for her, but was resolute in their task, except for one. This Hollow was a massive monstrosity of steel like armor and cannon like appendages sticking out from his gargantuan size. To him this was a helpless cause and the best service to her was to let her fade away. In their memories she could live forever, but once this oasis depletes completely, she would be helpless anyhow.
The Hollow went by the name of Bismark, and Serraph had learned over the years that he was a gunner aboard the german ship with that same name. As a plus, the man went mad as he was unable to pass on but unable to seek safety as he was bound to the ship's sunken wreckage. He truly believed he was the ship itsself reincarnated as this monstrous beast. As his namesake once sailed the seas under the power of its powerful engines, so did this beast sailed through the dunes, until a disagreement occured between him and the rest of the party. He ejected them and moved on towards the oasis, determined in his new goal.
When Serraph found him, the oasis had been destroyed, erased from this world by its devastating cannons. Filled with rage, the group attacked the behemoth, save for Serraph. Serraph hung back and let the weaker hollows wear down the enemy's defenses. Bismark slayed the group before him, but at the cost of its strength and stamina. It was easy work to put the beast down for good.
The long journey back was brutal on his psyche. He had agreed to keep her in a state of good well-being so long as she was able to feed him the knowledge he craved. Now he was in danger of failing his part of the bargain and thus he'd lose what he sought. It was difficult, but he had to make a decision. The contract could not be followed as it stood, not anymore. He filled the water pouch given to him by Serra and filled it with his own ink. Such a thing should be enough to fool her as his ink-like blood was drenched in spiritual energy.
It would prove that his efforts were successful. As he returned "Home" Serra was delighted in his "Success", but had deteriorated at a frightening speed during his absence. She appeared as if she were flaking away, her flesh turned to sand in various places. Serraph knew what had to be done. Approaching the red queen, Serraph distracted her by splashing her with the unexpected ink. With that opening, the Adjuchas wounded her further and devoured her quickly as she flailed in her confusion.
She wasn't about to let herself fade out like this. Serra drew back her aura as she was being devoured and concentrated it upon Serraph. Slowly, as her essence began to take control of him. As much as he hated it, he had to perform the one action he preferred to wait down the line, the act of breaking his mask. Under Serra, Serraph had learned the specifics of such a thing, how it transformed the hollow as they were at that moment into something more human. In this human form, they were like a snapshot of their more human aspects with their releases becoming a snapshot of their more hollow aspects.
Serraph used this desperation and knowledge to break his mask and perform Arrancarification upon himself. This halted the growing influence of the red queen on his body, but it didn't quite get rid of her. Nay, it fused the two together. The remains of her personality and features were superimposed on himself. Although he was technically the same mostly, he was had become someone else entirely. He still held a great curiosity within him, but at the same time a sense of loyalty, passion, and vengeance were given boosts in his heart.
He had gained the remnants of Serra's knowledge. Although it was fractured, the length of her lifespan was enough to keep him entertained for years to come, though he wouldn't become inactive like Serra was before. Serraph took on his name at this point, the last act of loyalty to the red queen and returned to Los Noches. There was still a matter to take care of, the reckoning of the Espada that sent him down this road. Years later from that day years prior, the two met again outside the dome of Los Noches.
The Espada made his surprise known and congratulated Serraph on the success of his mission and his transformation to Arrancar. They shook once again firmly, their slit palms pressing into each other to signify the end to their agreement. They would talk for a time, walking the perimeter of Los Noches as they did. The man was increasingly interested in the various forms Hollows and Arrancar could take and urged Serraph to show him, and so he did. As he released, the ink from his blood activated and invaded the Espada, overflowing him with a sense of weakness.
Serraph gave him not another word as he ran him through in that moment of surprise, similarly to his tactics with the red queen. He had gained the man's trust and the man paid for it with his life. As the former Espada fell on his face and died, the man's former comrades arrived to investigate the the massive influx of Reiatsu. They witness the former 6th Espada's dying moments and offered Serraph an ultimatum: He would take the dead man's place as the 6th Espada or he would be considered an Enemy and fall alongside him.
Now doing all that he had to do to simply perish afterwards is no good to anyone and this gave Serraph the perfect opportunity he needed to enter Los Noches and gain the security he wanted all along. The power of an Espada is valuable to this organization from what he saw. So long as he provided the minimal effort needed to make the organization happy with his role, he should be secure to do whatever he pleased.
Wonderful~
He wasn't the most popular of the group, but Serraph, as he called himself now, forced them all in his own way to recognize his importance. After all, without that recognition, he would be weeded out and destroyed by the stronger members. In the end, it would seem it was all in vain, as the smiling one would reach out with his almighty hand and pluck him from his library in Los Noches... but... this wasn't so bad. In this new realm, he would recognize that this place held infinite possibilities, he'd just have to start looking.
And look he did. He became the personal librarian to kings, and ventured deep into the inner workings of this God's toybox. This Astral Realm tested the former Espada, making him more than he was. The reward for his tribulation allowed him to escape, but not to his own realm. No.
A new world awaits The Scholar.
"Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return."
