Post by Dain Sinclair on Apr 2, 2021 16:30:05 GMT -5
-Opening-
Discord: Batamo Del
Password 1: Black Hole
Password 2: Moon Pray
Type: Medic
Squad: 4
Rank: 1 (Academy Student)
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-Basic Information-
Name: Dain Sinclair
Sex: Male
Age of Death: 35
Real Age/Age of Appearance: 105/35
Birthday (Month/Day): 14/02/1916
Blood Type: Rh-Negative
RP Sample:
{RP Sample}
It was rather late when Dain finally breathed out in relief and removed his hand from wet leg. A few drops of blood still stuck to his hand, but upon examination it seemed that the wound had been closed properly. Looking around he confirmed what he already knew; this was finally the last patient. Dain sighed again in relief as he wiped his brow, trying to remove sweat and instead smeared blood all across it. He barely noticed it, fatigue kicking in after a very long and stressful day.
He did not know all the details, but apparently a major kerfluffle had been going on in the outskirts of the rukongai. Ever since then they had been bringing in wounded shinigami like a red tidal wave. The most experienced medics were sent to the front to administer the emergency treatment. What was mostly left here were the students, under the command of a few experienced officer. The entire day he had been running around, trying to help as much patients as he could. He had to use his stamina pill and they even resorted to more traditional treatment for the less injured shinigami. It was an absolute mess, but thankfully it seemed to be over now. About an hour ago they received news a captain finally arrived and had ended the battle. Since then the wounded stopped flooding, became a trickle and finally stopped coming in at all.
Having kept moving on nerves, coffee and adrenaline, suddenly he felt as if the world grinded to a halt. As if he was walking into a wall. His legs suddenly began to tremble and the world swayed around him. He vaguely felt himself wobbling a it as the world seemed to fade out, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, helping him steady himself. “Ah… t-thank yo-ou” He managed to bring out with a tired, broken voice.
He barely noticed how a pair of hands moved in under his arm and started guiding him out of the room. He vaguely remember someone saying something to him, but it simply didn’t register anymore.
How long he had slept he really couldn’t tell. The first think he noticed was the fact that he was very thirsty. Followed by a sharp pain and his tired muscles screamed out in protest when he tried to sit up and look around for the nearest source of drinkable fluids. For a moment the pain was worse then his thirst and with a groan he slumped back into the bed. He closed his eyes a moment and the next thing he knew was something cold and smooth being pressed between his dried out lips. At first he tried to move his head backwards to get away from it. He wondered why his eyes would not properly open, but the next moment it did not matter anymore as cold delicious water rushed against his lips. Instinctively he opened his mouth and greedily drank all the water pouring his mouth. Satisfied he sighed and relaxed.
When he woke up again he was feeling a bit better and he somehow managed to sit up straight in his bed. “So you are finally awake, you big idiot?” A stern voice came from behind him. It sounded both worried and very angry at the same time, though Dain could not remember what could cause that. “Eh.. What makes you say that miss Kundig?” He as carefully, having recognized the voice as his class representative. With some effort he managed to turn around, but she had already moved off. “Just never do it again or I will personally make sure you won’t.” An angry voice replied, seemingly moving away from him, leaving him behind in utter confusion.
He was still contemplating what got her feathers so ruffled, when an elderly man came to his rescue. From the emblem he recognized the man as a seated officer of the fourth division. “Ah I see you are finally awake. Don’t worry about miss Kundig. She was just worried about you as she was in charge of the students for the first time and she felt very responsible.” He said with a kind voice as he pointed at Dain, which began beeping softly. “Okay that is starting to look better. It seems most of the residual effects are fading and your core values are returning to normal. A few more days and I guess we can return you to the academy.” The man said with a friendly, seemingly satisfied with whatever the device was displaying.
Dain was just about to ask, when suddenly the man gave him a karate chop to the top of his head, instantly sending waves of pain all across Dain’s body. “Next time don’t be so stupid as to take multiple stamina pills, mister Sinclair. If we had figured it out any later, it might have left you crippled… permanently.” The doctor said, waiting seconds to place extra emphasis on that last word.
It was like trudging through a bag of quicksand though. Dain’s thoughts were still slow and foggy, but slowly things started to come back to him. About the night and the eternal flood of patients. He could not remember the pills, but that did not mean it was not true.
When he opened his eyes to finally reply to the doctor though the man was gone and apparently it was now night time. He vaguely remembered sleeping a lot being a side effect of the stamina pills. There was a page of a textbook swirling in his mind. Something about the pills forcibly draining the energy from the bodies tissue. The drawback was that the body needed those to function. So as a trade-off you needed lots of rest. Or something. He could not exactly remember it. He had only barely begun his training at the academy and had briefly skimmed through the pages of the fourth division manual.
Eh… well guess I am alone now. He thought to himself as he sat up and looked around. Now that he was thinking a bit more clearly it, he recognized the room as one of the recovery rooms near the fourth division main building. With a bit of effort he managed to swing his legs out of bed and stumbled to the sink. The cold water quenched his teeth and helped wake him up a bit more. Droplets of water were still falling from his face, gently falling into the sink, as he heard noises coming from the distance. It sounded like someone or several people were in pain. His first instinct was to go out to help.
The tall shinigami stopped himself though. First of all he was naked and he could not spot any of his clothes. Since they were drenched in blood they probably had been send to the cleaners, he reasoned. Secondly he still felt tired and none of his kido reserves had returned. He still felt more empty then he had in a long time. If he went to help, all he probably would do was be in the way. It might be better to stay here. Also there was the distinguished notion he would probably be punished for this. He had only been a part of this organization a short while, but he doubted they would react better to substance abuse then the us marine corps would. So it would be prudent to stay here, otherwise he would probably only make his problems worse.
“Okay… now what?” He asked himself as he dried of his face with a nearby towel. His body was dead tired, but he did not feel like he could easily go back to sleep. There was nothing to read, nor did he feel capable of even a few push or sit-ups, so exercises was out of the question. “Hmm I guess I could try that meditation stuff…” He said softly to himself, his voice trailing away as the idea struck ground and began to settle.
Since he had joined the SS, he had heard vague rumors about something about a spirit housing deep within a shinigami. Something that could help or something something. So far he had disregarded it, being completely overwhelmed till now… but perhaps it was something he could do now. ‘So how does one meditate? Legs something like this, hands in a funny pose… and then clear out my mind? Let’s see. Spirit, spirit, spirit. Come out wherever you are!’
It was rather late when Dain finally breathed out in relief and removed his hand from wet leg. A few drops of blood still stuck to his hand, but upon examination it seemed that the wound had been closed properly. Looking around he confirmed what he already knew; this was finally the last patient. Dain sighed again in relief as he wiped his brow, trying to remove sweat and instead smeared blood all across it. He barely noticed it, fatigue kicking in after a very long and stressful day.
He did not know all the details, but apparently a major kerfluffle had been going on in the outskirts of the rukongai. Ever since then they had been bringing in wounded shinigami like a red tidal wave. The most experienced medics were sent to the front to administer the emergency treatment. What was mostly left here were the students, under the command of a few experienced officer. The entire day he had been running around, trying to help as much patients as he could. He had to use his stamina pill and they even resorted to more traditional treatment for the less injured shinigami. It was an absolute mess, but thankfully it seemed to be over now. About an hour ago they received news a captain finally arrived and had ended the battle. Since then the wounded stopped flooding, became a trickle and finally stopped coming in at all.
Having kept moving on nerves, coffee and adrenaline, suddenly he felt as if the world grinded to a halt. As if he was walking into a wall. His legs suddenly began to tremble and the world swayed around him. He vaguely felt himself wobbling a it as the world seemed to fade out, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, helping him steady himself. “Ah… t-thank yo-ou” He managed to bring out with a tired, broken voice.
He barely noticed how a pair of hands moved in under his arm and started guiding him out of the room. He vaguely remember someone saying something to him, but it simply didn’t register anymore.
How long he had slept he really couldn’t tell. The first think he noticed was the fact that he was very thirsty. Followed by a sharp pain and his tired muscles screamed out in protest when he tried to sit up and look around for the nearest source of drinkable fluids. For a moment the pain was worse then his thirst and with a groan he slumped back into the bed. He closed his eyes a moment and the next thing he knew was something cold and smooth being pressed between his dried out lips. At first he tried to move his head backwards to get away from it. He wondered why his eyes would not properly open, but the next moment it did not matter anymore as cold delicious water rushed against his lips. Instinctively he opened his mouth and greedily drank all the water pouring his mouth. Satisfied he sighed and relaxed.
When he woke up again he was feeling a bit better and he somehow managed to sit up straight in his bed. “So you are finally awake, you big idiot?” A stern voice came from behind him. It sounded both worried and very angry at the same time, though Dain could not remember what could cause that. “Eh.. What makes you say that miss Kundig?” He as carefully, having recognized the voice as his class representative. With some effort he managed to turn around, but she had already moved off. “Just never do it again or I will personally make sure you won’t.” An angry voice replied, seemingly moving away from him, leaving him behind in utter confusion.
He was still contemplating what got her feathers so ruffled, when an elderly man came to his rescue. From the emblem he recognized the man as a seated officer of the fourth division. “Ah I see you are finally awake. Don’t worry about miss Kundig. She was just worried about you as she was in charge of the students for the first time and she felt very responsible.” He said with a kind voice as he pointed at Dain, which began beeping softly. “Okay that is starting to look better. It seems most of the residual effects are fading and your core values are returning to normal. A few more days and I guess we can return you to the academy.” The man said with a friendly, seemingly satisfied with whatever the device was displaying.
Dain was just about to ask, when suddenly the man gave him a karate chop to the top of his head, instantly sending waves of pain all across Dain’s body. “Next time don’t be so stupid as to take multiple stamina pills, mister Sinclair. If we had figured it out any later, it might have left you crippled… permanently.” The doctor said, waiting seconds to place extra emphasis on that last word.
It was like trudging through a bag of quicksand though. Dain’s thoughts were still slow and foggy, but slowly things started to come back to him. About the night and the eternal flood of patients. He could not remember the pills, but that did not mean it was not true.
When he opened his eyes to finally reply to the doctor though the man was gone and apparently it was now night time. He vaguely remembered sleeping a lot being a side effect of the stamina pills. There was a page of a textbook swirling in his mind. Something about the pills forcibly draining the energy from the bodies tissue. The drawback was that the body needed those to function. So as a trade-off you needed lots of rest. Or something. He could not exactly remember it. He had only barely begun his training at the academy and had briefly skimmed through the pages of the fourth division manual.
Eh… well guess I am alone now. He thought to himself as he sat up and looked around. Now that he was thinking a bit more clearly it, he recognized the room as one of the recovery rooms near the fourth division main building. With a bit of effort he managed to swing his legs out of bed and stumbled to the sink. The cold water quenched his teeth and helped wake him up a bit more. Droplets of water were still falling from his face, gently falling into the sink, as he heard noises coming from the distance. It sounded like someone or several people were in pain. His first instinct was to go out to help.
The tall shinigami stopped himself though. First of all he was naked and he could not spot any of his clothes. Since they were drenched in blood they probably had been send to the cleaners, he reasoned. Secondly he still felt tired and none of his kido reserves had returned. He still felt more empty then he had in a long time. If he went to help, all he probably would do was be in the way. It might be better to stay here. Also there was the distinguished notion he would probably be punished for this. He had only been a part of this organization a short while, but he doubted they would react better to substance abuse then the us marine corps would. So it would be prudent to stay here, otherwise he would probably only make his problems worse.
“Okay… now what?” He asked himself as he dried of his face with a nearby towel. His body was dead tired, but he did not feel like he could easily go back to sleep. There was nothing to read, nor did he feel capable of even a few push or sit-ups, so exercises was out of the question. “Hmm I guess I could try that meditation stuff…” He said softly to himself, his voice trailing away as the idea struck ground and began to settle.
Since he had joined the SS, he had heard vague rumors about something about a spirit housing deep within a shinigami. Something that could help or something something. So far he had disregarded it, being completely overwhelmed till now… but perhaps it was something he could do now. ‘So how does one meditate? Legs something like this, hands in a funny pose… and then clear out my mind? Let’s see. Spirit, spirit, spirit. Come out wherever you are!’
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-Appearance-
Height/Weight: 6’3”/216 LBS
Eye Color: Deep blue with white slivers.
Hair Color: Snow white.
Hair Style: Military buzz cut.
Scars: Yes
Tattoos: Yes
Recognizable Trademarks:
- Tattoos
- Scars
- Cigarette in the corner of his mouth
- Military buzz cut
- Sunglasses
- White cloth armband, worn on his left upper arm, with a red cross. (As a regular shinigami and a captain)
- Big red cross on the back of his outfit. (Once captain)
Physical Description:
Dain is the prime example a us. When he joined the US marines at a young age he passed the physical with flying colors. His core build is tall and muscular, albeit much more into the athlete than fighter sense. He has very outspoken -never bulging- arm and legs muscles, accompanied by six-pack abs. When he is relaxing or with friends, he has a tendency to slouch a bit, making him seem a bit shorter and less sportive then he really is. However when he is on the job and in uniform he stands tall and firm, trying to appear bigger then life.
In his deep blue eyes you can see pale white slivers that almost seem to move around as he looks at you. The white matches it snow white hair that he keeps it rigorously 0.5 inches tall. This matches perfectly with his white beard, which he also keeps at the same length, allowing him to shave efficiently everyday. Aside from some arm and leg hair, the rest of his body is immaculate. Whether that is natural or through a regiment of ferocious waxing, he never discloses. Due to having worked mostly in the field his normally pinkish skin has turned a semi permanent deep tan, which it somehow retained when he died.
During his life, both in the real world and the rukongai, his body received several permanent marks. He is quite proud of both his tattoos and scars, wearing them with pride. He believes they are an integral part of him and mark his experiences and growth. On his entire back he is sporting a massive, detailed tattoo of a white tiger standing on it’s hind legs in middle of a forest oasis. On his left arm, from his shoulder down to his hand, he shows a very bright and vivid picture of his birth town. Off course this is very much romanticized and paints it as a paradise/safe haven. -Which it is in his mind-. On his right shoulder he sports three simper words written with thick black letters. The first is Fortitudine and below it the words Semper Fidelis. All three tattoos he received while he was alive, yet while dead he got them touched up several times. This allowed them to retained their sparkling colors and details, but also cover up new blemishes from wounds. At the time he is considering a fourth tattoo on his chest, to mark his affiliation with the shinigami. He is still waiting for inspiration to strike though.
Aside from the tattoos his body is riddled with scars. Ranging from small ones on his hand he got when he tried to bath his Maine Coon cat, named Flody, back when he was alive, to a large scar across his entire chest he received in district 73. Most are barely noticeable though and not that impressive. He never brags about them or tries to hide them. His appendectomy means as much to him as the scar that nearly blinded him. (Well the sword strike, not the scar threatened to blind him). However there are five marks of battle that have a distinct affect on his appearance.
First and foremost is a scar across his right eye. It was caused by a shrapnel fragment that somehow did not kill him. It was miraculously deflected slightly by his eye socket and continued down wards to bury itself in his cheek. Dain was lucky it did not impede his vision, however it did seriously chip/damage the bone, making it very fragile. A well aimed blow can easily shatter his eye-socket. It is one of the reasons he tends to wear reinforced sun glasses in battle. He has considered getting the wound fixed, but somehow it feels wrong to fix it, as it feels as if it is as much a part of him as are his digits.
The next scar runs all across chest, from his right abdomen all the way to his left shoulder. It happened as he tried to explain to a someone it was rude to point swords at him. Turns out the pointing was far less rude then the swing that followed. The wound had been deep enough to expose his guts and without the help of some shinigami, it would have certainly meant his end. The third mark is a group of nine centimeter big scars all tightly grouped on his back, roughly across his right lung. Though not visible clearly due to his tattoo -he had it touched up in soul society-, you can still feel the marks of the bullets that ended his life prematurely.
The fourth mark is simply a dimple in the front of his leg, where he broke it. This happened very early in his life and due to his poor upbringing he did not receive the proper care, causing the bones to heal up badly. Later a kind hearted doctor broke the bones again and allowed them to heal properly, but the dimple remains visible. Oh and he also misses his right pinky.
When he is on duty he wears the standard fourth squad clothing. While on duty he is a stickler for regulations and keeps his outfit always in tip top shape. The normal black shihakusho, white shitagi, black kosode, black hakama, white tabi and traditional waraji. On his arm he wears a sleeve with the number for and the division symbol to identify himself as a medic. The belt he uses belt he uses to tie his rope is actually a cleverly crafted pouch, storing some of the smaller medicines. For example the anesthetic shinten and the stamina restoration pills. He also wears a white armband on his left upper arm with a big red cross on it. While working he also wears a pair of black, reinforced sunglass that protect his vulnerable eye socket. Not only are the frames padded, the glasses are maid of a high tech poly carbonated material and almost unbreakable. To prevent them from falling off he can connect the legs of the classes with a reiatsu bond&lock behind his head.
Once he is off duty he often changes into something a bit more casual. In general he tends to prefer a bit darker tones. His general relaxing outfit would probably be sneakers, shorts and some sort of ‘cool’ t-shirt. Since he spends most of is time outside he always carries stylish blue sunglasses with silver carbon legs. The range of t-shirts is impressive and he really enjoys going through thrift stores looking for new cool t-shirts. His range of pants on the other hand is mostly limited to dark blue and black jeans. Luckily his collection of shorts is a bit more varied and comes in all materials, forms and colors.
If he is doing something a bit more serious like a gathering or a date, he tends to go a bit more British. Stylish loafers, long beige pants, sweater and trendy vest, along with a fashionable hat. He does enjoy the British style if he is honest. He just wish it was more comfortable to wear and since he prefers his comfort over style, he tends to avoid occasions where he has to dress up.
You can also find him regularly going through soul society jogging. As someone who loves sports, including sparring, he has a large collection of clothing available. He prefers though a set of black tight shorts, covered by a shorts to his knees. If the weather allows it he prefers to wear sleeveless skin tight shirts, allowing himself to cool as much as possible with running. In winter or cold times he wears a nice thick training jacket. He never wears long pants though while sporting, no matter how cold. He feels long pants hamper his movement freedom.