THE ZIAMICHI TEMPLATE
I. The Host's Basic Information» Name:
Zephyr Drakos» Alias:
Satoru Ishikawa» Race:
2k-3k years old (young adult in appearance)» Gender:
Unaffiliated, currently.» Appearance Picture:
I. The Host's Personality» Personality:A Man of Serious Appearance:
Laying one’s eyes upon Zephyr would give the initial impression that he is a man who has experienced a great many things, a heavy burden on his ancient soul can be sensed. His scars, several visible, even his face possessing a constant reminder of his damaging experiences. His traumas, his battles, they all are written on his very flesh and bones. However, such an appearance is a massive departure to the man’s true personality, though he didn’t earn such appearances by being his typical self.Expressive:
For a man who keeps his mouth covered all the time, Zephyr is very animated when it comes to his emotions. He tends to exaggerate his motions and movements when he speaks, talking with his hands quite a lot and being very out there with his feelings. If Zephyr feels strongly about something, you’re going to know almost immediately.A Fun Lover:
A world without fun is a depressing world to Zephyr, and thus he tries to have as much fun as he possibly can. Be it through activities, playing around with others, or otherwise doing something enjoyable, he’ll be on top of performing those things practically around the clock. Not to mention, Zephyr is an absolute adrenaline junkie, willing to put himself (and ONLY himself) into dangerous, heart thumping positions just for the thrills and chills.Fierce Loyalty:
With those he deems his friends and family comes a relationship of closeness and companionship. Zephyr is a man who believes strongly in relationships and the upholding of them, and is willing to ferociously protect the bonds he creates. He will not leave a loved one behind or abandon anyone, he cares far too much for others to merely forget about them. The breaking of bonds is one of a few things that genuinely wrenches his heart.Gentle When Gentle Is Needed:
In his previous life, Zephyr had to care for an entire village, playing a role as their god and protector. Hence he picked up quite a lot of caregiving habits, especially ones of comfort and tender kindness. He knows when to tone himself down a few levels to come to someone’s side in order to comfort them, and even if he may not be able to say the right words all the time, he at the very least is a very gentle, compassionate man, willing to stay and be there for those he loves.Highly Guarded:
When it comes to discussion about himself, Zephyr is pretty avoidant of the truth most times. He prefers to be an enigma wrapped in mystery, and doesn’t always tell the straight truth about personal events or feelings. He’s far more externally focused than internally, and thus he isn’t easy to spilling his guts to someone. He’s had to deal with his burdens all on his own, in his own mind, for thousands of years - being open about them just isn’t something he’s inclined to do so easily.Reckless (With Himself):
Zephyr is completely willing to get himself injured or otherwise harmed in order to accomplish his goals. His immortal body and twisted mind allowed for this kind of habit to form, where he will perform what would appear to onlookers as a foolish act in order to do something. Say his arm were trapped underneath or between something and there simply was no way to remove it as a whole arm - Given his high pain tolerance and tendency to damage his own body when needed, he would break his arm to the point it would be able to be pried from the space, and be allowed to restore itself after some time. Carefree Attitude:
Despite his eccentricities, Zephyr overall is a very relaxed man. He doesn’t succumb to any significant amount of stress very easily and typically takes things with a grain of salt. He’s practically seen it all, and such a thing has lead to even typical horrors like murder or war to not really physically faze him, his attitude calm and collected when dealing with such matters. He doesn’t even have any apparent fears or anything keeping him up at night, just going along with the song and dance of life.A Guardian:
Above all else, Zephyr is a fierce protector. He’s had to play the role of such when tending to his village, so when the situation calls for it, his typical cheerful, relaxed demeanor vanishes, and what replaces it is a virtuous entity moving to deliver judgement unto his enemies. When it calls for a serious fight, he takes it seriously, hardly speaking, concentrating only on fighting his opponent until the end of the fight has been reached, be it through wounding or killing his opponent.
A Man of Many Knowledges:
Given his many years of walking the earth, even before his long sleep, Zephyr is a man who thirsts fervently to always learn. And with such a philosophy, of there always being something new to discover, he’s amassed a great well of knowledge within himself, especially supported by his impressive retention skills. His particular areas of strong knowledge include that of “magics”, the natural world, human cultures, and even weapons, though he knows many things from many stretches of life.A Mind Twisted By The Ages:
All manner of things happened in Zephyr’s life, traumatizing experiences, war, murder, strife, hunger, disease. Especially with the usage of Reality Nexus, his mind has suffered a myriad of damage, however he never sustains any particularly disabling frames of thought. He behaves sound of mind and aware of his surroundings and situation just fine most times, however there are occasions where he suffers from symptoms of disassociation and hallucinations, as sometimes he forgets who he’s speaking to, as the instance reminds him greatly of another moment in the past, with another being, and thus he may refer to the person currently being spoken to as that being, before realizing his mistake and correcting himself. At times in his lonesome hours, he can become completely lost in thought, to the point that his perception of reality itself becomes warped, old memories bleeding into new ones, so on.
In the rare instances where he displays genuine disturbance is probably the worst manifestation of such symptoms, as he inches towards a negative physical reaction to them, such as anxiety, depression, delusion, etc. However, he is very competent in handling his warped mind, and thus it doesn’t drastically affect his quality of life apart from isolated incidents.
I. The Host's History» History:
The blaze of hell, pain struck through his head, his tiny body hung up high and bloodied. That was the very first memory of the nameless boy’s, nothing but pain and the angered yells of men. A young life, to be ended so abruptly at the hands of the righteous, was intervened by the hushed voice they committed in the name of in the boy’s ear, frantic to save him from such a gruesome fate. Such a voice possessed a gentle heart, one begging him to willingly give up a part of himself in order to save him from death.
The young one, fading and confused, agreed, and to that agreement was his demonic half sacrificed, and with such a sacrifice came another - the spirit giving up it’s freedom in order to work to spare the young one’s life. With a blinding ray of light, the world went dark for the young life, the screams of heartbreak pounding his ears as he was carried away into the darkness.
The young child would awake several days later, lying upon soft sheets in a clean estate. Men were stationed up front as the weak boy tried to walk outside, upon noticing him did they bow to his presence. The first several days were of many, many apologies, speaking the name ‘Alyona’, over and over again, the peoples of what was soon learned to be a small, isolated village begging for the “vessel’s” forgiveness for their cruel slight against him. He wasn’t able to speak, the shock and trauma of almost dying had stilled his soul, and thus only did he nod or shake his head. The only clear reminder of what happened the night before, was his jaw - It was crooked, scarred in a grotesque display, previously wrapped in bandages but the healing of his wounds was accelerated to a degree.
Whoever he was now, the young child was branded as the vessel for their goddess, Alyona, and thus was worshipped and expected to guide and protect them all.
For months, the boy felt a presence within him, however it did not move nor speak, as if weakened and small by a trauma. A peculiar, snake-like marking raced his body, one of his eyes becoming strange, changing from a piercing gold to a vibrant blue. The people begged and apologized to the boy, wishing for him to enrich their crops like their deity had once done, but to no avail.
Any hesitance or non action were seen as further signs of unforgiveness, the boy being given all manners of offering and praise to make up for their wrongdoing, of which he only appeared confused by. The village gradually degraded, signs of hunger and suffering soon surrounding him, only prompting him to try harder and harder to summon whatever power they wished of him to bring forth more food, a sense of duty and responsibility only growing with each failure. Each and every day of suffering and begging tore at his young heart, the child wanting so badly to do right by them so they didn’t feel as if he hated or wished to abandon them.
Offerings became smaller and smaller, the condition of the village degrading rather quickly with enough time. A sickness spread throughout the village, strange happenings of a mysterious animal attacking people when night came. The young boy was mortified that none of his attempts seemed to work, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to save or at least alleviate the harsh conditions. Once a young child was stolen away into the night, the boy had enough of these horrors, setting out one night in search for the beast, pike in one hand, determination in the other.
Within hours, he was face to face with the beast, a hulking form breathing with malaise, a face of white, hunger in it’s bright amber eyes as it released an unearthly roar, looming over it’s next meal - a small, exhausted girl who had gone missing the night before. The young boy would have ran if the desire to bring this village back to life had not burned hotter than fear.
He barely held off the creature’s initial strike, bidding the girl to run away, forcing the creature to focus on him as she fled back home. A fight broke out, however it appeared oh so one sided - The boy sustained injury after injury, his weapon barely doing anything to harm the beast, his moments were numbered as his form was wrought with burning pain and anguish, causing him to run. He would have died if he didn’t give chase, the beast’s fat form clumsily rumbling after him as he weaved through dense foliage to slow it down.
His heart roared, his breath short, his eyes burning as his small feet battered against the muddy ground, soon his gait was cut short as he made a fatal error, tripping over a tree branch. A burning pain flourished in his chest, however it wasn’t the acid or adrenaline, it felt more of a swirl of power, something awakening inside of him. His strange colored eye throbbed, a hand rushing to hold it as he heard the clumsy fumbling and charging of the creature coming closer and closer, to finally come devour his essence.
“Open our eye, child.”
Slowly, the pained eye would be allowed to observe, a brilliant array of symbols and circles lighting it as information rapidly filled the boy’s mind. The world itself, his mind was privy to - every settlement, every leaf upon the tree, every tale woven, every living thing big and small, all manner of existence, the eye saw it all. His mind throbbed and ebbed with a myriad of emotions as that knowledge poured forth, the sensation of years passing in his mind as his body erupted in violent twitching and writhing. The young boy’s mind was met with such a crushing revelation, he almost fell to insanity several times, the only thing breaking through his seizure-esque state was the beast’s footsteps, and that thought, the thought that if he perished here, those people’s hopes would be smashed and blown to the wind.
They would die if he perished here.
With such a revelation in mind, the strain his youthful mind was put through was forced to be worked through, as the white face of the beast exploded from the undergrowth, lunging towards him. A new instinct crafted in his mind made him move, his bloodied hands violently pounding into and digging into the earth, a will woven into the soil, the will to survive.
And with that will, did pillars of earth suddenly form, branching out to slam against the encroaching creature, sending it plummeting into the earth as the thick slabs of earth held it down, energy crackling violently as the first breath of his new power was realized. The young boy had crossed a line that could never be reversed, his mind forever changed, innocence sullied by forbidden knowledge.
Run, his feet moved before his mind could sew itself back together, his youthful body battered with so much pain and tear as he advanced towards a flowing river. Plans upon plans flooded his brain, so much thought swamped his little mind, violent twitch after violent twitch almost stopping him, his mind threatening to shut down from overstimulation, but the beast’s footsteps gave focus and meaning to these plans, a meaning to his footsteps, an anchor to this world.
His palms would then slap against the slow flowing waters, crackling energy surging within it, altering the water itself into a new form - a layer of sickly smelling fog resting over the waters as his hands searched the bank, his brain screaming at him to find jagged, dark stones - Flint.
“You can do it… You can survive this grisly fate child..”
The white faced beast charged at him head on, unbeknownst to it, was it running into a trap. As the creature’s angry white face burst from the darkness, the boy smiled, an unhinged laugh leaving his crooked lips as he sat at the other end of the river, striking the dark, shining rocks against each other in the direction of the misty river, the spray of sparks igniting a great inferno, one that sent the boy flying backwards into a tree, and the creature to set ablaze with a heavenly fire. The young one was laughing hysterically, such ecstatic joy caused by the demise of the creature before him, the relief that he could do something, anything to turn fate around, as he lost consciousness.
Awakening within that room once more felt like a second rebirth, almost panicking when a girl stood at the edge of his bed bearing offerings. His disorientated gaze only saw her as a massive collection of collaborative cells for a moment, until his gaze eased back into remembering what on earth said cells collectively were meant to be - A human girl. The whole room appeared that strange collection of smaller things until his brain sorted out and remembered what the bigger picture was.
Days, weeks, months went by. With his newfound, disorientating understanding of his surroundings did he save the village from the peak of ruin, nurturing their crops with beneficial compounds crafted from his ability to tear apart and reassemble his surroundings at his fingertips to fulfill a purpose. They gifted him the name Zephyr, as his graceful nature and grand forgiveness was like a fresh, gentle breeze. Alyona only became stronger with the increase in praise and the usage and maturity of the boy’s abilities. Beasts came, his advancing abilities slowly combating more and more creatures that threatened the village. He became a true protector, a beast slayer, a guardian to the very people who robbed him of his previous life.
Alyona taught, for all she could do was guide, years rolled by as she taught him of the touchable world. Her power was now his power, and together their power would guide the growing village. However, over the years, more strange beasts came to threaten the village, many of them more difficult to fight compared to others, especially considering Zephyr was by no means trained in the art of combat.
Merely going about by the skin of his teeth and wit, bending the surroundings to his will in order to constrain or strike wouldn’t cut it alone - he needed to have more tools and knowledge at his disposal if he was ever to be a truly apt protector, not to mention he needed the nurtured number of citizens to learn how to fend for themselves, and to aid for battle.
He called for an expedition to find those who knew how to fight, even if the village had scarce trading partners, commanding them to gift any willing to return with livestock and housing. He sent a party of able-bodied men, as he couldn’t leave the village himself - it would be weak and undefended if any ghouls came to strike and devour his people.
Weeks later, the village had built up vacant housing for any new residents that were anticipated to come. The people were ecstatic for what Zephyr’s decision would yield. The explorers returned, though they didn’ find many willing to return with them, one interesting person amongst them caught the young boy’s eye; A giant of a man, black hair with wisps of grey, scars and a chilly stone gaze hardened by war and strife. None of his people could understand the strange nomad, but he was the only one within the handful of returnees who knew the way of combat and weapons. Zephyr met and spoke with the people who were brought before him, dealers in art and economy, though he made motion to the scarred man to wait in his new quarters to speak with him, alone.
After introducing the others to their homes and resources, Zephyr sat down with the dark haired man who possessed such a strange tongue, and somehow conversation was able to be done. It was an oddity - he could understand him just fine, and he could communicate in the man’s tongue with little issue. It was almost miraculous how they managed to communicate; the man was a military man from a country to the far east - Japan, but after losing all he had, he became a nomad for many years, surviving by his own experiences, having travelled far from home and only now decided he wished to find a place to settle down for the rest of his years.
Zephyr managed to convince the strange, eastern-hailing man to train him and his people in the ways of combat, under the condition of being allowed to reside for as long as he wished, and alcohol. He learned many things of this man, of wielding a weapon, of reading the stars, the fine metals intended to be crafted into a sword, amongst other things. The boy was able to craft his own sword, manipulating fine metals with his astounding abilities. His mentor would take a great interest in the young boy, as he would train most able bodied men in the village to fight when such a thing was needed.
He could battle these creatures all the better, along with the assistance from the man and the beginnings of his army. While many people of his village did not seem capable of even witnessing some monsters, the strange man as well as a handful of combatants were able to witness them as well as he could.
Each battle only further secured the boy’s faith that all would be fine. The village celebrated with these victories, however Zephyr’s focus went outward, to those who had the potential to form a relationship with the village, so it may grow and prosper all the more. They previously had poor trading relationships with those around them, as the village previously had a bout of pillaging when their numbers were larger, but with Zephyr’s instruction towards exploring and discovering precious resources, he would bring forth treasures and interesting objects for the nearby settlements, as a form of apology for any past transgressions Soon, trading picked up within the village.
With social circulation revived, new people came to and from their previously closed off village, though while many others did not recognize him as any deity, not even the vessel of one, he quelled any possible offense his people would take, commanding they do not ruin what he worked so hard to build. Relations were fine, life was good.
Zephyr wasn’t sure how long it had been after a while, seasons seemed to pass so easily to him, around him friends would birth families, families would grow, friends would gain grey hairs and pass, even his teachers felt like they came and went after some time. Zephyr had his attempts at romance, but to no avail, did he ever gain a wife or lover. He refused to have daughters given to him as offerings, the sentiment in itself was bothersome, but he was used to his people making such questionable choices. Dealing with their rough edges over time was tiring, but it felt like it was the only thing he could do in life.
Things changed, as generations grew and spent, one day a small party of armed men approached the village. Zephyr walked out with his own party in response, the commander of the opposing force requesting his help in battle. An antagonistic party was threatening their settlements, women and children being killed or taken hostage, as well as livestock and other resources. Zephyr saw the desperation in the man’s eyes as he pleaded with him to help them, a smile spreading on his grisled lips as he rose a hand to motion him to silence. He could sense it, that same burning desire to protect that he possessed, and thus he needn’t need to hear another word.
He and his men went to battle, not merely a battle - A war, the first one he would ever participate in. However, he hadn’t the slightest inkling to the kinds of enemy he would be up against. While his skill and power aided his side in the first wind of battle, being able to dispose of enemies left and right, the real challenge would be brought as the opposing force was revealed to possess “magic” users in their ranks, such individuals being highly regarded, and feared for their abilities.
One night within their encampment, one of the users set the place ablaze, maniacal laughter spouting as men were reduced to pile of ashes left and right. Zephyr called to everyone to evacuate, moving to face the cretin head on, advancing towards him with his weapon. However, the flames burned hot, baking his skin as the man before him was able to fight back just fine, throwing back arms coated in flame as he would soon manage to knock the sword from the man’s hand. Faced with the screams of his comrades amongst the flames, and the enemy moving to burn him to a fine crisp, two fists swinging down to deliver such burning hell.
That familiar instinct came to life within Zephyr again - He could hear the heartbeat within the crackle of fire, as his hands met with the two racing down to strike him, holding them tightly as he connected with the element, the stressful situation leading to sparks of flame flickering along his body, until suddenly his fire too was engulfed in heavenly fire, hands no longer burning as he felt the strength of destruction burn in his arms. A satisfying crunch could be heard as he gripped the man’s hands tightly, pushing back as he screamed in agony.
That magic user had met his match that day, as Zephyr took to destroying his body, breaking his bones, tearing his flesh apart as the intense anger of the flames rushed through his blood. Zephyr tamed the flames, taking them and bending them to his will, until the fire no longer blazed. He was celebrated, but Zephyr cared not for the praise and rejoice - He had found a new aspect of himself to explore.
On more casual days, he spent time studying, testing his abilities, seeking for new heights. The search for knowledge consumed him, his cravings to learn growing as he discovered new things. He discovered that even the typical human was oh so close to even touching the manner of things he knew, through the practice of alchemy. He was overjoyed, humans were so inventive and clever, a new stepping stone to utilizing his abilities.
He discovered the usage of runic symbols in order to cause certain reactions to happen - well, discovered wasn’t accurate, more realized the knowledge of it when he saw the human’s rendition of certain symbols. They weren’t quite right to what his mind displayed, but over time he learned to craft actions with these symbols.
He became a craftsman, wowing his men with articles of clothing and weapons that, when will was exerted upon them, would cause a specific element to be produced. He noticed others’ usage of such symbols were weaker compared to his, him chalking it up to less of a touch to their spiritual side. There was so much he knew, but not enough that he fully understood, and gods did he wish to understand it all.
These items gave them a helpful edge in battle, especially against magic users, but Zephyr’s new techniques were truly the topping to their assault. With his help, the war was fought and won in merely three years - The invaders were either all slain, or gave up, as they no longer came to attack. Zephyr lost comrades, but gained a wealth of knowledge to bring back home. He and his remaining men would travel back, the fight was won.
Though, peace was not.
Days later, his village was set ablaze, an insurmountable attack of bloodthirsty soldiers adorned in shining metal and atop horses reduced his village to ashes. Fighting such a force was difficult - It was a surprise, Zephyr had citizens to protect, his friends and allies could never come on time. He saved as many as he could, however they were only a fraction of the village’s population. They ran far and long before they could rest, watching their village burn from a far distance, sheltered by Zephyr’s efforts.
Alyona comforted the man as the group was reduced to nothing but only a handful of traumatized humans as a majority were ruthlessly slaughtered - far from equipped to handle being out all alone. Zephyr took it upon himself to try to find them someplace new to live, however any and all of their allies were either blazed to the ground in a similar fashion to his home, or their villages were deserted, wiped clean of even the thinnest and weakest of cattle and produce. Travelling eastward was their only option, as the only frame of reference for the rest of the world the man had at the time, was from his east-hailing mentor, the least he could do was bring what was left of his bloodline to his homeland, and find homes for the remainder of his village.
Eastward, they travelled, many months, many miles. Some countries, he dwelled in with his people, acting as the head of his “family”, often fighting for their cause, and working in order to keep his people fed and alive. It was the least he could do for being unable to save all of the hard work they had put in to prosper.
Hundred year after hundred year, generation after generation, Zephyr fought for many people, uninterested in things like national pride or glory, he only concerned over who he had left, the group of which had children, some left, some stayed behind, but for the most part, Zephyr’s desire to return at least some facet of his master’s family to their homeland remained intact. His combat abilities only increased in proficiency the more he fought, his pain threshold ever growing, his mind sharpening with plan and strategy.
The world constantly changed around him, and suddenly after years of violence, battles, new scars, new feelings, people coming and going in his seemingly infinite life, with only Alyona to give him consistent company and comfort throughout the ages, he was left alone, with only one baby, out of the many people who came and went in his tribe. His master’s many, many removed grandson, held in his arms as he was rested upon a vessel travelling to Japan. This was fine, he would give this infant the best life he could, despite the state of the known world.
Zephyr would enter the country as Satoru Ishikawa, carrying his son Ryuta Ishikawa, his “wife” and “daughter” not managing to make the trip back, to any who would ask. They blended in pretty well, the man working under others, jumping from farm work to even being a guard. However, as time went on, he slowly came to realize that he simply couldn’t care for a child all on his own - A young woman and her family who lived near his humble hut were generous enough to watch him ever so often, however he couldn’t hand off the boy to them every single time, so he couldn’t work nearly as much to support them. He barely made enough to feed himself, much less a child. The practical solution was to hand him to someone who was well off and could care for him. He was working for an army man’s family for a time, though when battle was called for, Zephyr made a deal with the older man - If he took his son, he would act as the man’s son and fight in his name, as well as give him an able-bodied child. He accepted.
He did what he felt was right, and felt great relief that Ryuuta would be fed and loved. He went to fight once more, and soon that was what consumed his life. Fighting, fighting, fighting. He had no home, no friends, no family. All he had was Alyona and half the time she wasn’t even active due to there being such little belief circling about her. Most times she was only strong enough to speak and nothing else, Zephyr having taken the bulk of their shared abilities in terms of actual power.
It was all a bleak flurry of death and battle. Life stopped being enjoyable to Zephyr for a time, even if he was able to create new bonds during such a tiresome period. Life was toned with greys, until he met a man who hailed from a village from above the clouds - They had fought together, were comrades, and even saved his life on one occasion. Thankful for Zephyr’s contributions, and noticing his lack of a place to belong, as the fighting died down he offered for the man to come back home with him, stay with his family. His friendship with this man lasted through decades, staying at his residence, watching his children grow, however life didn’t truly light back up until one little boy was born - Yuuto.
Yuuto reminded him so much of Ryuuta, to the point it almost stirred the man to tears at times. Occasionally he’d watch and play with the young boy, as well as his baby sister who was born not too long after, little Atsuko. Though as the young one grew, his father grew strict and even abusive. Zephyr didn’t like what he saw, but he tried to help the poor boy through his struggles, being there when he would cry or need advice. He didn’t feel it was his place to tell his father how to parent the child, but he was saddened that such a man was produced from his kind, old friend.
Then, the fire happened.
Terrified screaming, the slaughter of people, Zephyr couldn’t save them all. It was his people’s demise all over again.
He returned to the burned remains of his home for the last time, his world had become grey. Tears were shed as he glanced to and fro at the last thing he had in this world. Only one option made sense with this failure and grief to him - Seppuku. He knew he would be unable to die naturally, so he had to put his own little spin on the ritual. Instead of dying and his soul passing onto the next life, he would merely remove himself from this world, and await a new one to wake up in.
He drew, and drew, for hours he constructed the space of which to perform such a ritual, ending off with carving the necessary markings into the key points of his flesh. The pain of his flesh was incomparable to the pain of his loss, his sword risen into a striking position, as this would be the last time it’s teeth would taste flesh for a long, long time. He spoke words of gratitude, of praise, as his odd eye would begin glowing, the ritual would begin, the final key…
A sword through his belly would finalize his fate, a deep sleep taking his mind as his body was frozen in the stone of time…
The crumbling of stone hailed the awakening of the fallen champion, Reality Nexus instantly activated as his body was freed, horrific tremors plaguing his newly awakened body as new information bombarded his mind. It took several hours before the world made sense once again, a grasp of his surroundings returning as his sense and reason were back.
He travelled down that deserted mountain, to see what the new world had in store for him.