Thomas Thorn [Visored]

Name: Thomas Thorn

Nickname: The Medic

Age: 1524 (looks to be in his mid-forties)

Gender: Male

Weapon(s): Not so much a weapon, but a useful tool nonetheless – fingerless gloves specially developed to increase friction between the gloves and a surface, by using spirit particles in the air. This increases his ability to grip onto things, but his physical strength remains unchanged.

Personality:
Despite being in exile, Thorn holds true to his duty as a healer. No matter whether they attempt to kill him, bring him in or otherwise, he will always heal a Shinigami’s wounds, usually doing it if they are unconscious or asleep. He is never sure how they will react, and is never certain if his efforts will be appreciated. But, he knows that the members of squad four are rarely appreciated for their work, sometimes even being looked upon as cowards for not getting out on the front lines. He does not succumb to this though, knowing full well that he should not do it to be appreciated.

Thorn does not tend to boast, but neither does he deal with false modesty. He deals with the facts, or what he perceives as the facts. He sees no use for hiding his abilities, and though he does not divulge his powers on a whim, if an ally asks him to explain his Zanpakutō, he will not hesitate to list of basic information about it, such as its basic functions. However, he always lie about his Bankai – constantly saying that it’s been so long since he used it last, he has forgotten its function. In reality, he has never activated it before, and will try not to for as long as he needs to fight, given its effect.

Despite his prowess in combat, Thorn despises fighting. This is only natural – he is a healer, not a fighter. He only took to learning the art of war due to being exiled and even then it took him many years to get to the level he did. However, force him into battle, and he will give you no quarter, utilising his knowledge of where to strike to its fullest. Given that his Zanpakutō is not the most powerful, technique must take precedent over power, in his eyes. Wielding his blade with alarming speed, if you face him on the field of battle, be prepared to have the music of death in your ears – steel clashing with steel, and tearing through flesh.

However, gain his trust and sit him down with a good book and a nice hot cuppa, and you’d be hard-pushed to find friendlier company. Easygoing and a heavy (tea) drinker, Thorn will raise up any number of different conversational topics, from current world events to the debatable tastiness of fish fingers dipped in custard. Always willing to try something new when it comes to food, if he hasn’t tried it and you offer it, you can pretty much guarantee he’ll have a taste of it. Whether he’ll verbally abuse it as if it had insulted his mother is not something set in stone, however.


Physical Appearance:
Tall and slim, Thomas really does look more suited for the hospital ward than the battlefield. With the kind of skin that comes from wandering around in the dark too often, complete with bags under the eyes, and a muscle tone that is comparable to that of an eight-year-old, the only really intimidating feature about him is the fact that he is a fair few inches taller than your average male Shinigami. And that part of him isn’t intimidating at all, unless you have an aversion to that sort of thing.

His brown eyes, bloodshot and tired, still manage to hold something resembling determination in them, when he isn’t in a determined state. Normally, they appear haggard and weary, as if so much has been piled onto him that even his eyelids have collapsed upon themselves. His hair, while a few strands stick up here and there, is a largely tidy black short back and sides, flat on top. Covering his eyes is a pair of worn, rectangular black spectacles, covered in an assortment of faint, tiny scratches.

Clothing-wise, his outfit actually remains the same throughout. He does wash his clothes, of course, he just wears the same ones while washing the others.
Choosing to wear a pristine white shirt coupled with a crimson tie, it makes an odd combination with his dark grey trousers, and black combat boots. Evidently, though he likes to look smart, he at least has some sense of practicality.
This notion is completely disregarded, when you see the lab coat he wears, that is actually unnecessarily long for someone engaging in combat, though the red crosses on the left and right shoulders at least show he’s a medic. And, under the Geneva Convention, field medics are protected as noncombatants. So that’s a plus.


Bio:
Summing up Thomas’ early years is an easy enough task. He was never a disruptive child, bar the odd temper tantrum that inevitably befalls a child every now and again. Keeping himself resigned to his books, it became so that his best friends were usually printed. He was not born into a particularly special family – his mother and father raised him lovingly, and they worked hard to keep a steady income. In turn, their son worked his hardest inside and outside of school valuing his studies and his usefulness above his own happiness. He figured that if he prepared himself for the years ahead sufficiently, then it would be a lot easier to sit back and relax when he really needed it.

Taking his education further, Thorn moved up through various forms of higher education, excelling in his grades wherever he went. He was determined to be a doctor – having lost his mother due to her heart giving out prematurely, even for a woman her age, his determination to excel in medical sciences was unrivalled by anyone he came across. And, though it took many long, arduous years of stress and inner turmoil, the boy emerged a man – a man of medicine. Heck, he even came out of it with a girlfriend. Though their conversations were awkward, that was not de to any tension – that was just their personalities. They were not the kind of people who needed to say much to show much.

Proving to be quite a naturally-talented physician, Thomas did his job at the hospital well enough, though he did seem to be doing more work than was healthy. About five years in, health issues started developing, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out the fact that he was pushing himself far too hard to be healthy. As such, it was ordered that he take a holiday, for a week – more or less. He hated that he’d have nothing to do, considering he’d split with his girlfriend to keep themselves at least friends. However, clearing his head was a good decision – he came back to work revitalised, ready to take on the world.

At least, that was until his plane crashed. It was a freak accident, an unforeseen malfunction with the engines. Stuttering and stalling at the peak of their flight, the pilots did everything they could to keep the plane from colliding with the barren wasteland beneath them, but ultimately, they could not alter the plane’s path. All Thomas could do was assume the ‘brace’ position – or, as his old dad used to say, the ‘kiss-your-arse-goodbye’ position. Irrespective of his actions, however, the impact itself proved fatal, with his seatbelt just happening to malfunction halfway down, causing his head to be smashed open. Not a particularly glamorous death, but it was his.

For him, life in the Rukongai was just a matter of tending to the wounded and injured wherever he could. Earning his keep through off jobs and various errands, Thomas used every penny he could afford to spare on medicines and supplies, treating those he could. It was not that he was intentionally benevolent, or a kind person by nature. He was just doing the job he had been torn from by death, except to a lesser degree. However, what he didn’t understand was why he always felt so hungry, despite the fact that this was not a common occurrence throughout the area. However, his significant spiritual ability and healing prowess pretty much guaranteed him attention from the Shinigami.

Given his abilities, it was fairly obvious where Thomas was to be assigned. Beginning as an unseated member of Squad Four, he did what he could to keep the people going, but this wasn’t enough for him. He was a Shinigami now, and his Zanpakutō was combat-oriented, despite him being a healer. As such, he felt it necessary to train for combat in his free time, despite past experiences of overworking himself. He became the Fourth Division’s equivalent of a field surgeon, though with a little more emphasis on fighting at the front lines. Not being allowed into the world of the living, he instead took on calls for medical assistance wherever he could, providing medical aid, and combat aid. But, despite this, something still felt off – something with his Zanpakutō.

After his centuries of fighting, healing, and staring down members of Squad Eleven, Thomas had had enough. He was only going on his gut, but he was going to confront his Zanpakutō spirit about the matter at hand, regardless. And, it had to be said, Blutsauger was exceptionally solemn – even before the question was asked. Thomas asked what was wrong with him, if anything – to which he received the following answer.
“Only in the event of an emergency, shall you receive Bankai. When the energy in me builds to breaking point, where I can no longer disperse energy and it has built up to too dangerous of a level to keep, I will release it into you. You will not die, but hear this – my maximum capacity is almost incomprehensible. The amount of energy would be enough to wipe out about a tenth of what you refer to as the Seireitei. To deal with this, your body will use the energy. You will change – new body, new personality, new everything. Even your soul will change – and me, as a result. Use your powers sparingly. This world needs you more than you think.”

Though visibly shaken, Thorn knew he still had a duty to do. And he did it – he did it to the best of his ability, his dependence on his Shikai rapidly decreasing as time went by, with him not wanting to be left behind everyone else. Becoming a lieutenant at one point in his career, everything looked as if it could go smoothly, but fate had once again planned to intervene. This time, it was in the form of a miscalculated performance-enhancing drug. Banned for the danger it posed to life, but people still took it. And, as it happened, a whole sack of it was snatched by Thomas. But, the drug had been misdeveloped – it attracted Hollows. And, when one particularly skilled Hollow attempted to kill the Shinigami, they merged – the drug was reacting in its case, likely the cause of the whole thing.

The Soul Society did not take well to him being Hollowified. But, before he could be executed, he ran. The Medic ran, out of the Soul Society, using a private gate he had had opened, into the world of the living. It was quite convenient, now that he was interested in it – actually being able to understand the human world, how it worked, how he should. He needed to lay low, and that was what he did. Apart from the fact that he travelled the world in order to keep himself from being detected, he did nothing special for a few years managing to keep his Hollow powers under control – he’d had no reason to use them, after all.

Things took a turn, however, when he spotted a Shinigami laying on the ground, about to be finished off by a Hollow. It was looking bleak for the greenhorn – on one of his first few missions, and he was already going to be devoured. Hell, his leg was practically hanging off of him – if the Hollow didn’t get him, the blood loss would. Unless, of course, someone intervened. That someone being Thomas. The Hollow was easy enough to dispatch, but it was keeping the Shinigami still that was trouble. Think about it – a stranger with a sword destroys a Hollow in front of you, and emits an aura just as sinister as it. He had quite the terrified look on his face – that was, until the bleeding as stopped, and the recruit’s leg was partially healed. Only emergency field measures, but it would last until proper medical aid arrived. In the meantime, Thomas had to make himself scarce.

This continued for a while – assisting Shinigami in danger, healing them, making sure they went on their way. He was recognised once or twice, but it seemed the person recognising would usually be too injured to do anything. When he could, he meditated with his Zanpakutō, training with the few other Visoreds he tracked down to help in training his abilities with his mask. He gained no true mastery of it, but it was safe to say he could control himself, at the very least. But, he knew he couldn’t reveal his name. Anything with a name can be remembered with ease. It’s harder to remember something that doesn’t have a name, and given how his appearance had changed just enough to look different from years back at a distance, he needed an alias.
He became the Medic.

Shinigami sometimes speak of him, like an urban legend – someone who has saved countless lives, and they didn’t even know he was there. Someone who never stops, who never stays, and never asks to be thanked.

The Medic.

Inner world appearance:
A black-and-white surgery theatre, though copious amounts of blood splatters plaster parts of the room, their red a stark contrast to the monochrome world.

Zanpakutō


Name: Blutsauger

Zanpakutō spirit:
In many ways, Blutsauger looks similar to his master. Tall and slim, he looks more cut out for the operating table, and his hair is also notably similar. However, the similarities end there.

Dressed in clothes that do not necessarily represent a medical expert, Blutsauger looks to be far more into ‘aggressive surgery.’ Though the clothes he wears under his bloody apron vary whenever he and his owner come into contact, the fact that the scalpels at his belt and his apron are always filthy is more than a little worrying. This, coupled with his bloodstained surgeon’s mask and mouth muscles indicating a gleeful grin, makes him look to be more along the lines of Sweeney Todd than a doctor’s ally.

At times, Thomas wonders whether Blutsauger or Octavian is worse.

Sealed form: A simple kodachi, made for quick strikes. The blade is sharp enough to be satisfactory, and is polished fairly well. The guard is made of a material as hard as steel, but has a pale, metallic blue colour. The handle is a crimson red, with a gold criss-cross pattern upon it, ends with the hilt being coloured gold.


Shikai


Call out phrase: “Leech their power! Blutsauger!”

Shikai description: In addition to the kodachi become viciously sharp and highly polished, a shield is added to his left arm. The length of his forearm, and about three times as wide, the arm-mounted shield is shaped like a curved rectangle, so as to accommodate Thomas’ arm properly. There is no design on the shield, but it is the same colour as the kodachi’s guard. The edges are lined in gold.

Ability: The Zanpakutō becomes an energy conduit, capable of channelling weak hado through the user, and in the direction the tip of his sword points at. By concentrating, like a telekinetic would to move objects, he can also draw spirit particles in, and fire them as a beam. However, if more energy is stored than the maximum capacity than can be dealt with swiftly, then his Bankai automatically activates, in order to prevent the Zanpakutō from destabilising – if it did, the explosive power would be similar to that of a hundred Cero colliding on one point.
It should be noted that, however weak the attack, about 2.5% of the channelled attack’s energy is stored as residual energy in the Zanpakutō. This means that, over time, he will grow ever closer to activating his Bankai, unless he never activates his Shikai.

Techniques:
Energy Bolt: Spirit particles in the air are absorbed into the shield, and fired from the tip of his sword as a swift-moving ball of energy. Similar to an Arrancar’s Bala, except not as powerful, and requires a slight degree of concentration.

Energy Stream: A continuous stream of weak, but unrelenting, spirit energy, used as a beam attack. Useful for wearing down guards, but not very practical for actually fighting with.

Misdirection: Weak hado (and moderately powerful ones, if he focusses) are absorbed into the shield, and shot back out of the tip of his sword. Weakens the effectiveness of More powerful ones, but has no hope of nullification. Also works for energy-based attacks of equivalent power.

Charge: Absorbed particles are automatically converted into residual energy, manually bringing him closer to using his Bankai.

Bankai


Bankai name: Blut Verwandlung

Bankai description: The user becomes cloaked in a harshly-glowing white cocoon, impenetrable to all but the most powerful of attacks. Inside, the metamorphosis takes place, with spirit energy erupting from every part of the user’s body. After the process is complete, the cocoon unravels, and the new being walks out, glowing slightly.

Ability:A complete regeneration and metamorphosis of the body and soul.
(Explained further in techniques – permission has been received, but still requires clarification.)

Techniques:
Regenerate: By using the massive buildup of energy within the Zanpakutō, the user heals any and all wounds – even mortal ones – and gives the user the amount of years a normal Shinigami would live, on average (does not stack with years that could have been lived). However, this process has a catch, and an enormous one at that. The user must undergo a transformation if this technique is used.
They are given a different appearance, a different personality, they are robbed of their Hollow and Shingami powers, and left as a human with acute spiritual awareness – but no fighting capabilities whatsoever.
Essentially, Thomas Thorn dies, only to have a new man saunter off with all of his memories.


Inner Hollow


Name of inner hollow:Octavian

Personality: Unusually calm and collected for a Hollow, Octavian’s strength lies in his ability to manipulate – essentially, his way with words. Not that he doesn’t have strength of his own – his mastery of single-handed swordplay is astounding. But, he prefers to break his opponent’s mind, not their body.
However, engage Octavian in battle, and he will show you no quarter, should you out up a fight. He is, at heart – or lack of heart – a Hollow, and only wishes to devour your soul. Being the sadistic megalomaniac that he is, Octavian often disregards the old teaching of ‘never play with your food.’ Not that he isn’t well-mannered. It’s just in all the wrong places.

Appearance:
Taking on the appearance of a tall and slender man, Octavian’s skin is typically pale, though his black eyes hold no pupils whatsoever, appearing to be little more than empty voids contrasting with the stark pallor of his skin. Possessing no hair to speak of, this does not have much of an effect on the armour he dons – light Roman foot soldier armour, consisting of a leather breastplate, plumed helmet, leather tunic, and undershirt. However, the outfit, instead of being brown and red, is black and white, with the helmet being completely black – the plume is white. The blade at his side is constantly changing, never retaining the same form, but always black and white.

Hollow mask:
A mask moulded to the contours of his face, the mouth seems to curl up into a macabre smile. Split down the middle, one half is black with a completely white eye, while the one on his right is white, with a completely black eye.

Role-play sample:
“Prepare for your examination.”
Drawing his sealed Zanpakutō, Thomas faced his fellow Visored, preparing himself for a no-holds-barred spar. Not a duel to the death - that would be stupid. He was there to learn, not to destroy. That aside, his people were scattered around the globe – he was lucky to have found that one clump of Japanese Visored during his stay there, even if he didn’t remember their names. However, now was not the time to be reflecting upon past activities, and allies he had left behind. Now was the time for fighting, to draw upon the power he himself had – not his blade and shield. He saw them as dangerous, only to be used when necessary. Blutsauger himself had told him, and if he had a solemn look when speaking, it would be impossible to ignore that he was serious.

Steel clashed with steel, though Thomas was pushed back slightly. Not because he was physically weak – if anything, he was feeling fit as a fiddle, ready and raring to go. It was that his blade, while comparatively short and quick, was unable to effectively hold back the constant blows raining down on him from the katana. However, what he lacked in power, he made up for in speed and perceptiveness, just like his Zanpakutō. What he couldn’t parry or block outright, he dodged, albeit with some degree of stress, but this was natural. He always appeared aggravated when an opening didn’t show itself, rendering his quick strikes ineffective. Unless the opponent had little defensive capabilities. But nobody ran in without knowing how to defend – it was essentially suicide.

Dodge. Parry. Block. Strike. Dodge.
There was never a pattern to the attacks – looking for one in such an experienced swordsman would be pointless. That was one of Thomas’ strategies straight down the toilet, though he had more. Having a single strategy or similar tactics rarely worked – he had to adapt to his foe, mould how he could around their attacks. Whether this required deft footwork, a hail of strikes, a blow to a key area, he always knew there was always a weakness. Even the most powerful of foes would always have a glaring weakness, be it physical or psychological. The rapid clashing of steel continued, with neither party willing to relent.

Eventually, growing tired of waiting for an opening to come to him, Thomas decided to attempt creating an opening himself. His kodachi was held sideways, the flat of it facing his opponent, and a brutal shunt was utilised to parry a blow, instead of it being redirected. Thrown off-balance by a sudden change in moves, the anonymous Visored stumbled backwards a little, but a little was all Thomas needed. With gusto, he moved in for the kill, moving his Zanpakutō in in order to disarm his foe. Unfortunately, his opponent was not one for cheap tricks, and for his troubles, Thomas suffered an uppercut to his chin. But this did not faze him or knock him down. Granted, he was a little shaken, but his composure remained absolute throughout.

Despite being bitter at having fallen for the blow, there was no time for bitterness. Instead, Thomas continued the onslaught, though it soon showed that they were on even ground. If anything, this duel could go on forever – but then again, so could they. Despite them panting when they stood still, the fact that they were both smirking was a telltale sign that everything had just gotten underway. Thrusts, ripostes, double-ripostes with mushroom sauce – all these and more were used in the duel, but nothing could break the other. The nameless Visored moved in close to his foe, likely preparing an assault – though, given that his blade was two-handed and somewhat long, actually getting a blow in would be difficult at point-blank.

After dodging to the side and bashing his foe’s skull with the hilt of his Zanpakutō, an opening occurred. His opponent’s katana was brought up in a quick attempt at a guard, and proved to be of little use whatsoever. He still managed to grip his sword, but getting up was probably what kept him from fighting straight. He was always being knocked down, but the fact was, he was cornering his teacher. Steel clashed with steel, as one of the combatants was pushed further and further back, until they were practically moonwalking away from the sheer speed of the blows. He guarded as best he could, even going so far as to hunch over to use his shoulders as guards. However, he was still overpowered.

It was the one at the throat that cinched it.

Bankai name: This needs to be filled out.

I can approve this for ADV-3 with 65 points.

Also, there was a new RP partner request by uKnown. He wants his character to meet up with another Visored. So if you don't already have plans for this character's first thread, you could PM him. :>

Rank/level: ADV-3
Hankou: 12
Reiryoku: 12
Hakudo: 4
Seijuu: 12
Bukijuu: 13
Hoho: 12
Points awarded: 0
Total points: 65

Bankai's fixed, and I'll get on to contacting uKnown once this is approved.

Moving to accepted~