Sashura Dregovich
Level 3 Admin
Posts : 44
Join date : 2011-08-02
Character sheet
Health:
    (50/1000)
Mana:
(50/1000)
Money: 50
 |  Subject: Dregovich, Sashura  Wed Aug 03, 2011 11:17 am | |
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• Sashura Dregovich • Male • Seven-teen • Junior •
• Asura, Shu, Sash • Heterosexual • Scout Mercenary • Hibari Kyoya •
"So to speak, you are a hero, Sashura! Even if you are the top student, you are also poorest in the school. People will call you a weed, and you will be despised as a lower person! Don't worry, I praise the poorest! What is important to the hero is the reckless spirit!""Beauty is as vain as these cherry blossoms. You will never be able to see the same shape for two days."
• General Appearance • A Russian soldier needs a body of steel to survive the harsh life they will live in war, and if not that, a will of steel to replace it. This goes double for a member of Spetsnaz. Sashura happens to have both. Standing at six feet even, he is a bit tall for his age, and weighs about one-hundred and sixty pounds. Depending on his eating habits, which fluctuates depending on his surrounding and living conditions, it will stay around this number. The build on Sashura is a unique kind, one that gives him just enough build of muscle so that he can carry out missions with ease. He could manage this without looking like a body builder or 'macho man', which was what his other comrades would have looked like if he ever had any. His eyes are surprisingly soft violet, which contrasts with his deep black hair, which extends to his neck, dramatically. Asura's hair is often well kept from simply not sleeping on it much. He ends up sleeping sitting up a lot and even then, he usually gets a three to five hour nap in during the day. Somehow this, combined with his eating habits, doesn't effect his complexion which is near perfect. Proof that war can be forgiving sometimes.
• Usual Apparel • Sashura's 'style' is kept simplistic. He doesn't care much for what is 'in and 'out'. The way he sees it, a suit and tie will never get played out, and so he keeps just that as his apparel. Occasionally he likes to wear a t-shirt and khaki shorts, just to air out some on hot days, or to expose his body to the changing weathers to adapt. His shoes are usually either dress shoes, or some type of sneakers. Brands don't influence his purchases at all.
• Interesting Traits • The only alien mark on Asura's skin is a single work of art, a tattoo, given to him when he enlisted to the Spetsnaz. Residing on the left of his back, just on his shoulder, is Russia's flag. Its size is about five by three inches. His weapon, which he tries to keep on him whenever possible, is held by a strap which stays slung either across his shoulder, or his entire body.
✬ Locker-room Gossip ✬"I think it's fun to know the person little by little through looking at their personality."
• Character Summary • Sashura is a particularly flexible individual in terms of personality. He can find enjoyment in just about anything, so befriending him is an easy task. It takes him little to no time to find some type of hidden meaning in a simple statement, and while he doesn't like preachy people, he could talk you to death about a thing or two. Asura's active as can be, and likes to spend time with others. People who are active and like to spar with find him to be a good friend. This goes double for anyone who likes to just kick back and relax as well. Typically just a chill person to be around.
• Likes • Well obviously, Sashura enjoys guns and conversing about guns, rifles more so than pistols. Modern technology also spikes his interest to a degree. He has always taken a liking to Winter for one reason or another, even though some of his harshest times occurred during, and because, of that season. As for the ladies, he prefers girls with some attitude, something he can chase and isn't too easy. Black hair is a plus, and anything other than red eyes is fine with him. Of course, a girl shorter than him is a given, since he is six foot tall. If he were to hook up with anyone, he'd prefer they be around five foot five.
• Dislikes • Before coming across war, Sashura had no idea he hated so many things. Aside from things you would see in that situation, he dislikes liars with a passion, especially liars ones who get caught red handed. You have no business lying if you don't have the mind to keep up with it. Any man who has the heart to hurt a woman 'deserves a fifty-cal between the eyes', as he once told a friend, and he won't think twice about doing it himself...if he could only get his hands on a fifty caliber rifle, or Desert Eagle.
• Obstructions • Sashura does have a bad habit of smoking when stressed, but he hasn't become addicted. He rarely lets things like that control him. His will is much too high for that.
✬ Schoolyard Games ✬"If you wish to dream, do so in your dreams."
• Element • Fire.
• Gift • Progressive Scan/Auto Aim: The
psychic' ability to seek out a person, place, object or thing with the mind, and mind alone has come to be known by Sashura as Progressive Scan. This ability does not work the way that sonar works, by echoing unseen waves off object surrounding the user until the being or object is found. It is an omniscient ability that seek out people by their DNA. For finding objects, the object has to have been touched and seen by Sashura. For places, there is no limit.
When applying this ability to battle, or his gun more so, he can transfer the data created by his mind through his body and have his body focus on that point physically. Prime example: An enemy five hundred yards away is hiding within the grass, unseen by the eye. Sashura can raise his weapon, then activate this ability to point his gun directly at the person, giving a one hundred percent guarantee that the target will be hit by the bullet unless an outside force acts on him, or the traveling round. For this reason, his scope is made nearly useless.
Two downsides to this ability is that when the ability is activated with a gun, it will point at the person's chest. For him to shoot the head when using the ability, he would be directed towards their chest, but would then need to manually raise his rifle to the head. Another downside to this is that, as stated earlier, shooting while the ability is active does not mean it will hit for sure, though if the person does not act on stopping the bullet or shifting its path, it will impact upon them.
• Weapon •
The one type of weapon that Sashura has come to adapt to is the sniper rifle, to be specific, The Dragunov SVD. Since nicknaming it Wulf upon receiving it, it has rarely left his side willingly. This Dragunov rifle was custom made for him, and stood apart from others that he had seen due to its folding stock and grip, custom optical zoom scope, attachable silencer, eleven round magazine (rather than a 10), with the last round always being a different 'type' of bullet in each magazine prepared by himself. While this does put a spin to fights, he rarely ever has had to reach the bottom of his magazine. In most cases, after the first to third shot, he has taken out his target, though in situations of large groups, obviously, this changes.
Apart from his skill with Wulf, he has also become an expert in Krav Maga, a brutally punishing type of martial art that knows no mercy to anyone it is used on. It has a philosophy emphasizing threat neutralization, simultaneous defensive and offensive maneuvers, and aggression.
✬ Background Check ✬""Looks like you've managed to take a step into a new world."
• Birthday • April 11th
• Legal Guardians • Sashura's father was taken prisoner by a rival country. The fight over getting him back will be progressing even as Asura is going to school. His mother passed away from cancer some years ago.
• Siblings • None.
• History • Starting off as a child, Sashura did not grow up in the best of neighborhoods. His family just made it by with his father’s shop, which sold various good to the town they resided in in Russia. His mother was fairly sick after his birth, but was never taken to a real doctor to check what the problem was. At the age of ten, Asura's mother passed after a slow progressive death from cancer. This devastated him for five whole years before it was knocked out of him by the Russian military. At fifteen, looking older for his age, he was pushed into rough training when a shortage of troops was calculated by the country. Such a young person can only be crammed with so much information, but Sashura did his best to take it all in. In turn, it made him stronger, having forgotten about his mother, who had man him weaker of a person. His determination to not be beaten by the commanders and physical training instructors was so great that he excelled past his comrades, making him stand far apart from them. From the beginning, the military had put him as a sniper, due to his age. They knew it was mostly like he would not be able take a hit out in the middle of battle, no matter how hard they beat him here.
A year went by and by this time, he had been put into the Spetsnaz, a special operations group for the Russian military. Since being thrown in, he had become the youngest, deadliest sniper in the entire camp he was stationed to. The quiet attitude Asura kept made the others somewhat cower from him. He had much on his mind with not having seen his father since being taken away from him, and only knew he was put into the military as well.
Quite a few operations later, and after having gotten his hundredth kill, he and a few others were celebrating in a rundown city on the outskirts of Israel. The television was on, not for watching, but just so there was some noise in the room. The news for the local area happened to be on when an incoming call came through over their receiver. The informant relayed information of a hostage situation involving their own fellow Russian comrades. Their objective was to eliminate all hostiles from the area and assure that no hostages were harmed in the process, a difficult task with the amount of people in that district. Just as they stood and began walking to the door, Sashura turned to the television, a few words echoing in his head as the newscaster uttered them. There on the screen was his father. The newscaster was on the scene of the place they were just sent to go, the camera man having zoomed into the window of where the hostages were kept. The men holding them allowed the news team to do so for publicity reasons, obviously. "Father..." he whispered, then ran out the door, his eyes flaring. If only he had not seen that news cast...
An hour later, they arrived in the area, dropping off Sashura far from the scene at the best known sniping spot for him. He climbed the stairs of the ten story building in no time and threw his equipment onto the ground of the rooftop, immediately taking Wulf out and setting it up. From where he was, he could perfectly see his father in a window through the scope of his rifle, sitting on the floor and bound. A few meters away stood another person, wearing an opposing uniform. An obvious hostile. His crosshair flew over to the man's neck and locked there, ready to pull the trigger at any moment. In his internal rage, he wasn't thinking properly. Not in the way he should have. He was breathing hard and ready to shoot at any moment without holding his breath, he hadn't checked the wind, nor waited for his team to arrive on the actual scene and set up. Worst of all, Asura had no idea how many people were inside the two story compound.
He took the shot.
In that moment, all hell broke loose, the sound of screaming, running, and assumptions from pedestrians, small pops from other guns in the distance, along with other chaos. Despite having killed one enemy, he realized he had fucked up bad. In a pinch, he jumped up and ran to the side, dropping to the ground again on the rooftop. As he looked through the scope, he could see a little better now...and gazed upon the hostiles executing, one by one, a room full of tied up hostages. In his rage, confusion, and complete clumsiness, he began shooting into the room, missing with every round. Asura hurried over to his ammunition pack to get another mag, cursing in Russian as he did so. As he dropped the magazine from his Dragunov and pushed the other in, the sound it made told him it was jammed. By the time it was fixed and he looked up, he couldn't find his father anymore and, what looked like an escape truck, had fled the scene.
Even the smallest screw ups get you boned while in such a high position. This one, however, was nowhere near small. Sashura was demoted temporarily and sent on long term leave. Having no home to go back to, and no one to care for him, he was sent off to a school where he could pick up on his education. Being placed as a junior didn't bother him, since it matched his age, and cause he was smart enough to deal with it. What did bother him was not knowing whether or not his father was dead or alive. While it irked him, he was not one to much push the stress upon himself. Having really no choice, Asura set off to the school the military had put him in, Luz Dura Academy, where he would stay until his forced leave was over.
✬ Transcript ✬"“What good are dreams, if all you do is work? There's more to life than hitting the books, I hope you know."
• RP Example • - Spoiler:
The Artic: An unforgiving wasteland. Grueling difficult to survive in as a human without the proper resources, but that wouldn’t stop a war from happening on its surface. This battlefield of ice and snow, once a beautiful winter wonderland, was now completely warped into a bloodstained nightmare. Only the strong stomached wouldn’t lose their breakfast over a sight so disturbing. Hell, even the soldiers would stop to reload their weapons and gaze around them at what they stood in, gagging before continuing what they knew wasn’t them. On the far side of this scene, an uprising of ice too steep for one too climb overlooked the battlefield by some meters. From above, and maybe even from right next to it, no one would have seen the little cove dug out by hand. Inside it with a camouflaged silenced Dragunov was Sashura Dregovich, poking his head out of the hole just enough to get a good look of the action through his scope. “Mm…” he groaned, his tongue slipping from his mouth to graze across his chapped lips. To define picking off a single enemy in a field full of them, from a distance of seven-hundred ‘difficult’ would be an extreme understatement. The list of things to go wrong is nearly endless. “…where are you…” he whispered, inhaling softly and keeping his heart rate steady. His body wanted to heat up due to the cold, but if his heart rate got too quick, his hands would become too shaky to get a clear shot. “Ah.” Sashura let out in the form of an exhale. He had found his target. The battle in between him and the real target was a mere distraction to pick this one bastard off. His trigger finger applied a bit of pressure as he inhaled, tongue pushing to the top of his mouth for a guaranteed seal of air. His throat locked in a similar fashion, the muscles in his neck pushing together. With crosshairs floating over Asura’s soon-to-be victim, he clenched his teeth, bracing for the impact he was oh so familiar with.
Bang.
The bullet traveled from point A, to point B, in .723 milliseconds, connecting with the commander’s epidermis, traveling through the flesh of his head, passing though his skull, and cutting a trail in his brain. It then flew out in the reverse order and embedded itself in another man’s chest, completely unintentional of Asura, and something he would never find out. Not from the distance he was camped at. “Hmph” was the sound of the exhaled hot air bellowed from his lungs. He stared at the fallen man for a full minute, making sure he had done what he came to do. “Confirmed kill.” Sashura whispered into his collar, where a microphone resided. He pushed his rifle off to the side and lunged up out of the hole, pulling out a pistol that was fastened to his side. In a fluid motion, he raised the gun into the air and shot three rounds into the sky, yelling out at the top of his lungs “Your commander is dead! Lay down your arms and surrender!” The whole lot of them continued, but movement could be seen in the back of the battlefield, where the opposite side had pushed their stronghold to. A few seconds later, and there were bells ringing. “Cease fire!” echoed around, and soon the order followed. At that beautiful sight, all gun shots and explosions had stopped, it becoming dead quiet. The battle had come to an end, but the war was only just beginning…
(Totally rushed this, sorry if it’s ‘bleh’ or anything along those lines.)
• Admin PMd • Valerie.
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