Ramsey Toraryu doesn't have a custom title currently.
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Thread Tracker: http://sweetserenityrpg.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=1745
Occupation: Yakuza Warlord
Joined: 5-September 16
Last Seen: Today at 01:04 pm
Local Time: Jun 27 2017, 11:41 AM
71 posts (0.2 per day)
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Mar 25 2017, 04:04 AM
Dinivas had studied many things in his life, things Ramsey was gaining limited access to. The ancient had studied many aspects of his society, but mostly it’s technology, science and martial arts. Both theory and practice.
Strangely Ramsey had a hard time recalling the details when he was somewhere quite, like his home, but somewhere that had a constant buzz of noise made everything flow through crystal clear. That was one of the reasons he was in the Taimu Out! bar. A pencil in one hand and a notepad in the other he let his ancient memories flood through, jotting down notes and theories of long lost sciences as they came to mind.
He hoped that somehow he could take this various ideas and put them to use somehow to protect everyone from the pollen… and avenge his father.
The problem was Ramsey was not Dinivas. Dinivas was a genius among geniuses, an amalgam of Einstein and Bruce Lee of his era. Ramsey wasn’t anywhere near that brilliant, at least not scientifically. Ramsey was more of a statesman, military leader and warrior.
Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t provide this lost knowledge to someone who had the right skill set to adapt it all to modern technology.
Pausing for a moment he placed his pencil down and replaced it with a glass filled with water. Swallowing a mouthful he sighed glanced around the bar. The seat he had chosen was partially secluded; enough that he could only see part of the bar but in turn making him harder to spot as well. His guards where only a short distance away and had a full view of everything in the bar. With all four of them armed with guns, katanas and knives it was unlikely any average person could pose much of a threat to him.
He stared at his drink and chuckled silently while musing about how in most fictional versions of this kind of scenario the age restriction on alcohol would be ignored by everyone. Yet for some strange reason the authorities still insisted on restricting it even as the nation crumbled around them.
Mar 24 2017, 02:31 PM
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<h3>15 . Yakuza Leader/Regional Warlord . Neutral</h3>
Things have not gone well for Ramsey. During the first days of the Plantocolips his father was killed by Youma while helping civilians evacuate to the safe zones, forcing him to assume control of the Yakuza clan. This is a role he was far from ready for, having assumed he had years before he had to step up. This has caused him to nurse a seething hate and resentment for the Makaiju and the other plant creatures. <p>
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Ramsey remains largely friendless. Although he managed to forge a few bonds before current events he is unsure if they still count him among their friends. To compound matters his responsibilities as a leader make it harder for him to move freely and reaffirm those bonds. Deep down he still yearns for friendship though. <p>
Makaiju and all plant creatures are on his kill list. For the first time in his life he genuinely hates something. It's unlikely for Ramsey to truly hate anyone else enough to count them as a true enemy. <p>
At present the fact he is a fairly powerful warlord with a personal fortress would be pretty common knowledge. His Yakuza-turned-army forces are also surprisingly extensive putting him in a remarkably secure position given the near total collapse around him.<p>
Dec 21 2016, 05:17 AM
The memories he had inherited from his past self where difficult to sort through to say the least. Dinivas was both a maniac and a genius wrapped up in a blanket of unbreakable loyalty, his obsession with gaining power and becoming the strongest to push his nation to become stronger pushed him to do some pretty insane things. One of those was attempting to learn every technique and spell from every planet, moon, cave and everywhere else in the solar system.
One of the tricks Ramsey had picked up from those memories was the ability to sense energy and discern the direction of that energy relative to himself. However the method he’d figured out wasn’t useful for anything other then tracking and useless in battle since it required so much constant focus it was impossible to maintain and still fight effectively.
Still, the young man had noticed something odd about the pink pollen everywhere; it was emitting energy. Enough energy that he could pick out the ‘scent’ of that energy over the background energy of the city.
That had been hours ago. He had been following the ‘scent,’ tracking it’s ebb and flow as best he could, sometimes going the wrong way and having to backtrack but eventually he had followed the trail to a small park. His feet crunched over the pink stained snow as he made his way to a rather unusual sight.
Releasing his focus on the tracking spell he gazed out over a sight that shouldn’t have existed; pink flower in bloom in the middle of a park surrounded by freshly fallen snow, already stained with the pollen that was causing so many issues. There was no mistaking what he was looking at; these flowers where the source of the pollen.
But then, as plants, it was likely this wasn’t the only batch of the weed.
Silently the young man knelt down and plucked one of the flowers out of the ground and placed it inside a zip-lock plastic bag. He didn’t have any way to analyse it himself but at least with a sample he could do so once he found someone who could.
Taking a few steps back he examined the layout of the flowers and calculated his next course of action. Wordlessly a flash of light shot over his body and his regular attire was replaced by the robes and armour of his past life. His crescent shaped birthmark on his head shifted from yellow to white and sparks began to shoot around it. After a minute of sparking his mark flashed and released a torrent of violent silver-blue energy at the bed of pink flowers, vaporising half of them as the swept the beam over the flower bed.
As the beam faded away Ramsey looked over his work and grunted. Folding his arms he relaxed his stance and waited for his energy to recover some so he could fire a second shot without wearing himself out.
Dec 17 2016, 02:04 PM
The dojo echoed with the thunder of flesh impacting tightly spun figure. The figure was spun into ropes which where in turn tightly bound around poles attached to the floor. The flesh was attached to the knuckles of one Ramsey Toraryu.
Sweat dripped into his eyes as he continued punching pole, the calloused flesh of his knuckles breaking under the repeated assault and staining the ropes red. He ignored the pain and continued to increase the pace and power of his punches. His teeth grit tightly in frustration, frustration born of powerlessness.
People had been hurt right in front of him. Some one he cared for became a twisted monster. He had regained fragmented memories and powers of a distant past, and yet it had amounted to nothing. He had been utterly powerless to do anything about it.
It was infuriating.
The stick snapped under the onslaught and slammed into the wall behind it. Ramsey heaved heavily as his hands twitched from the adrenaline and pain. He looked at his knuckles as he caught his breath and swore, “I’ll become stronger. Stronger then anyone.” He grit his teeth, “I won’t allow anyone to be hurt on my watch… ever again...”
At the entrance to the dojo two figures watched in silence. After a moment the female figure made to move but the male placed a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at the man and frowned before protesting, “Tatsuya, he’s hurting himself!”
“True. But that light in his eyes is the resolve of a man with a clear goal.” The Toraryu Patriarch replied with a smile, “When has our boy ever shined with such passion before, Lyn?”
Ramsey’s mother blushed and looked away from her husband, “Fine… but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She replied, “No matter how old he gets, or how much of a man he becomes… he’ll always be my baby boy.” She affirmed even as she winced as another punching stick snapped and slammed into a wall.
“...Perhaps fetching the first aid kit would be a good idea though.” Ramsey’s father finally conceded.
Dec 15 2016, 10:58 AM
Blood. It dripped from his lips, his nose, his chin, his finger tips and even ran down his arms and legs. Each breath was agony and was married to a rattling gurgling in his chest from a collapsed lung. White and silver was marred by brown, gray and red.
Arrows, swords and broken spears stuck out of his body as he gasped for breath even as he was surrounded by the beaten and broken corpses of his foes. The half dozen survivors encircled the dying warrior, compelled forward by the accursed spell of their twisted Queen and encouraged by the pitiful state of their dying foe.
Even so only six stood when there had been over ten thousand with their foe exhausted before the battle even began.
One of the Dead Moon’s soldier’s lunged forward with her spear out stretched, aiming for the lone warrior’s chest. But she wasn’t quick enough, and her foe wasn’t dead quite yet. He leaned to the side and caught the spear around the shaft with his left hand. With a sharp yank of his left arm he lifted his right arm, the hand gripping a gleaming silver crystal sword, the blade punching straight through the spearwoman’s darkness enchanted armour and through her breast.
Releasing the grip on his sword as the spearwoman lost her grip on her spear, he spun the polearm and threw it at the last archer among the foe. As the long projectile struck the archer in the chest the lone warrior summoned his sword back into his hand in time to deflect a thrust from a Dead Moon swordsman, spinning with the motion before bringing his weapon around the relieve the dark warrior of his head.
He spat out blood as a mace user struck him in the gut and staggered back, the blow being enough to break his grip on his weapon which dissolved into light with it’s master’s energy flowing to it. Sensing danger behind him he managed to avoid being stabbed in the back by another Dark Moon swordsman. Reacting on instinct he grabbed the wrist holding his foe’s weapon with his left hand while driving his right elbow into their face, stunning them.
In a swift motion the Dark Moon swordsman’s throat was slit by his own weapon which was promptly used to deflect the weapon of the mace user. With the mace off course the wielder was off balance giving the lone warrior the opening he needed to thrust the sword into their chest.
The lone warrior let the mace wielder collapse and stood for a moment in exhaustion. Too late he remembered he’d only killed five as the tomahawk bit into his chest. Vomiting blood the lone warrior sank to his knees.
He tried to summon his sword but his magic simply sputtered, his power depleted. The thought of falling now, the thought of letting the Dark Moon claim even a pyrrhic victory on this battlefield enraged the lone warrior. With the last of his strength he unleashed an inhuman roar so savage the Dark Moon axe thrower felt fear even through the spell that robed them of emotion.
The lone warrior tore the axe from his chest and heaved the axe at his enemy with enough force it threw him forward and spun him onto his back. The tomahawk sailed threw the air and split the Dark Moon soldier’s face in two, ending their miserable life.
With the battle finally over the lone warrior turned his tired eyes skyward, focusing on two distant specks. From the asteroid on which he had intended to rest before continuing his journey his destination looked so tiny, and yet so much bigger then from where he had been the last several years. So close to home and yet so very far away.
His home. The Kingdom of the Moon. His beloved Queen. All the things he hadn’t seen since being sent into exile...
As he chocked on his own blood his thoughts drifted back to long ago, before even his exile. Back when he had still been a naive child who walked those crystal streets…