Post by repliku on Aug 18, 2007 7:35:45 GMT -5
Name: Riku or Replica depending on preference of others
Alias: Riku's Replica(?)
Age: looks to be 17
Height: 5'11
Weight: 180 lbs
Gender: male
Alliance: Organization XIII
Keyblade name: Way to the Dawn
Weapon: He doesn't have any other weapons but is capable of bending the power of darkness to his will and create a sort of energy blast better known as Dark Aura.
Bio: The Riku Replica was a clone of a Keybearer who'd given himself to Darkness, Riku, created by the Organization XIII's Vexen solely as a tool towards Sora's downfall. In his first attempt to trick the Keybearer of Light into believing that his friend had permanently returned to the ways of the old and buried himself in the evils of his heart, he played the part of a villain, locking out all their childhood friends, Kairi, even Sora himself, along with the rest of the world. In doing this, it was hopeful that Sora would be driven into seeking out the real Riku and finish him off. But in the midsts of his mission, the replica had other thoughts shadowing his mind; the haunting fact that he was nothing but a fake, a puppet of mimicry and deceit, second best to the real image he'd been crafted into mirroring. An inspiring word had been pushed into his sights by a certain backstabbing Nobody: power; he needed more power to become a genuine being. His own being. And what better way to prove and improve his strength than by assassinating his superiors, tallying off those above him and seizing their worth, a simple process of elimination? Rising up and claiming supremacy. However, when this shone as flawed and punctured with departed truth, a sudden realization stepped forth and presented itself. The only way to become more than a pawn was to completely erase Riku from time and space and replace him.
This selfishly ambitious plan, due to numerous accounts of unforeseen complications, fell short of success: Larxene's toying with the young, impressionable minds of Sora and the Riku Replica's, Vexen's own bitterness towards the murderous blunder of an experimentation, and soon after Naminé’s modifications, a change in his very heart and memories. These 'adjustments' borne false recollections of himself aligning himself with Naminé, breeding an entitlement of guardian as her sole protector from both evil to falling stars alike. This drastic twisting of fate exposed the darkness that had enveloped the Organization, an unwrapping of a thick plot of cloaks and daggers, and thus rekindling the candle of his existence and resurrecting a fallen warrior of light. And alongside Sora, together they engaged head-to-head with Marluxia, the self-crowned lord of Castle Oblivion, joining the unfathomable strength their conjoined Keyblades wielded and knocked the empowered Nobody from his wishful throne. That uncharacteristical completion of a deed in the past, the replica sought out Riku for one final bout.
Although every single hair on his head matched, his battle stance was perfectly mastered, swing for swing mimicked exactly right, an image inside and out that was absolutely and flawlessly equal to Riku’s, he was carved from the Darkness. And not all the Darkness in the world would save him from the unsnuffable Light that Riku had finally rediscovered within himself; for he had naught but a single differencing constant. Riku possessed a beating, feeling, living Heart. And it was his sword, his shield, his strength and courage; it was what distinguished him from the phony. One of the many things no amount of science could ever hope to duplicate; but the only thing that would guide Riku and ensure his triumph over the dark past that stared him down in a death match. The duel would of course mark the end of the Riku Replica, but since the rebirth of the Organization, Vexen reminisced through the equations of his failed creation and boldly recreated a second life for his clone as well. And thus utilizing the remains of his DNA capture from the first replica and genetic aging, he crafted another to mirror the current Riku just as perfectly as the first. This time, however, there was neither Naminé to meddle with his delicate chain of memories nor the toxicities of ill persuasions brooding within the too-thin fabrications of trust within the Organization. Working strictly under the word of Vexen, his true purpose is known to his creator and his creator alone, and as for the other members' acknowledgement, the replica is nothing but a pawn, used merely for miniscule taskings about the lab and other minor duties.
Personality: Despite the rebirthing of Riku Replica whose physical genetics have been slightly altered, the haughty attitude and collected demeanor of the first remains intact due to the fact that Vexen was unable to acquire any data from the present day Riku. He holds himself in high regards, turning his nose up at those he feels are inferior and commands respect from all. Full of seemingly inexhaustible vigor and an inextinguishable spirit, he’s quick to step forth and take any challenge thrown at him, his unyielding self-confidence and determination to be number one fueling his youthful flame. Riku’s a passionate fighter, preferring the sound strike of metal to intangible magics, always pushing himself to his absolute limits, swearing an oath with himself that the first and last hits of any fight will be his. And though his tongue is as sharp as his Keyblade, neither a witty remark nor a cold retort will be spent unnecessarily. This refined teen will often stand by unvoiced, simply observing his fellow castle occupants with indifference, his lofty dignity at fault when it comes to conversing with those he simply cannot lower himself to trust nor befriend. Replica may rub off as cold and uncaring, and he might very well be straight to the core, but given opportunity’s shine, he’ll gladly step into the spotlight with exaggeration in his movements, show himself off shamelessly and pose pretentiously against all the many forms of weakness. However arrogantly self-absorbed as Riku may be, should anyone threaten his Creator, he’ll fall back protectively, taking on a role of both Protector and Server, living for his safety and a rewarding acceptance.
Appearance: Repliku’s features have smoothed, reflecting a grown version of his mold with a broader build and lengthened hair. His dark, formfitting attire and kapa remains unchanged.
Picture:
(sorry about the slight blur)
Roleplay Sample:
I promised her all that time ago.
“You’re not the one who’s meant to protect Naminé…” Riku’s Replica declared through gritted teeth. He clenched a fist, visibly shaking with a bubbling frustration that’s tortured his mind and burned itself deep into his chest. It continues to etch itself through his body, every inch of his being, into his soul, it’s eating him up, the idea that Naminé might choose Sora over himself. And it threatened to break him, to peel away the layers of his heart until there was only nothing. No! The blade in his hand cuts the air in a violent swing, banishing the other boy’s claims, his lies. A steely gaze snares Sora’s crystal-blue, narrowed to jealous lime slits, a silent challenge. These were his memories. It was his promise. “I’m supposed to be the one to protect her!” he half-yells, waving his weapon in a horizontal slash followed by a downwards slice, “But you and your memories always get in the way, Sora!”
I’ll protect Naminé by stopping you.
Replica’s quick to fall back into a well-balanced battle stance, shoulders back and drawn taught, knuckles white around the neck of his weapon, mind blissfully blank. He’s even quicker to lunge forward, swiping at the reluctant Keybearer and bounds after him with furious jabs. They’re circling each other, right foot over left, left over right, staring the other down, waiting for opportunity’s best. It’s an unconscious spar between darkness and light – no, a duel for the truth, puppet versus justified existence. And with every step, every attack strung together through a fluidity of unpracticed brilliance, it’s mirrored perfectly by the other. They spin and dodge edge’s reach, dancing around and jumping away from the other as the fight stretches both time and exhaustion. It’s Naminé that keeps him going. It’s the promise that keeps him moving. He’s determined to prove his worth, to show her that he’s capable of protecting their memories. She’s worried; he chances a glimpse. But her eyes aren’t on him. She doesn’t notice Replica’s efforts. He can see the fear reflected in her eyes, flitting, writhing, and completely unphased by his drive. They aren’t watching him, they never were. She’s not worried about him, she’s not worried about the outcome, she’s worried for Sora.
When we were small, lots of shooting stars fell. Naminé wondered what would happen if one hit the island. She was worried, so I told her: “Even if a shooting star falls on us, I’ll protect you.”
And it’s then that it strikes him, not all at once, but rather, slowly like stars raining across the sky, one at a time, weighing his mind and heart. A split second too late, a screech of metal on metal in a parry that never happened as the Keyblade drove down on Replica’s shoulder. He stumbles back, sword slipping from numbed fingers as he drops to a weary knee. No, he had to have imagined it. Anger growing, it spreads from his heart and up through his arm, a dark aura, an unnaturally cold, numbing hate. He shouts, releasing all the negative energy that’s bided within from his palm in an explosive hiss of flashing darkness. The entity crackled and popped as it tore through the vacant space before connecting with the other boy’s chest with a sickening thud; he hadn’t needed to see it for himself, the pained yelp and the sound of his body hitting hard and the groaning aftereffects were enough to know Sora was finally down. It was a dirty trick but a necessary one. “Looks like I win.” Replica’s triumph echoed dully throughout the room. Twenty-eight inches separated Sora and himself, but only four lay between the other and Way to the Dawn’s point. “You’re through fake!” he sneered, words dripping from his tongue like poison and eyes gleaming cynically as he lifted his weapon to deal the final blow.
Alias: Riku's Replica(?)
Age: looks to be 17
Height: 5'11
Weight: 180 lbs
Gender: male
Alliance: Organization XIII
Keyblade name: Way to the Dawn
Weapon: He doesn't have any other weapons but is capable of bending the power of darkness to his will and create a sort of energy blast better known as Dark Aura.
Bio: The Riku Replica was a clone of a Keybearer who'd given himself to Darkness, Riku, created by the Organization XIII's Vexen solely as a tool towards Sora's downfall. In his first attempt to trick the Keybearer of Light into believing that his friend had permanently returned to the ways of the old and buried himself in the evils of his heart, he played the part of a villain, locking out all their childhood friends, Kairi, even Sora himself, along with the rest of the world. In doing this, it was hopeful that Sora would be driven into seeking out the real Riku and finish him off. But in the midsts of his mission, the replica had other thoughts shadowing his mind; the haunting fact that he was nothing but a fake, a puppet of mimicry and deceit, second best to the real image he'd been crafted into mirroring. An inspiring word had been pushed into his sights by a certain backstabbing Nobody: power; he needed more power to become a genuine being. His own being. And what better way to prove and improve his strength than by assassinating his superiors, tallying off those above him and seizing their worth, a simple process of elimination? Rising up and claiming supremacy. However, when this shone as flawed and punctured with departed truth, a sudden realization stepped forth and presented itself. The only way to become more than a pawn was to completely erase Riku from time and space and replace him.
This selfishly ambitious plan, due to numerous accounts of unforeseen complications, fell short of success: Larxene's toying with the young, impressionable minds of Sora and the Riku Replica's, Vexen's own bitterness towards the murderous blunder of an experimentation, and soon after Naminé’s modifications, a change in his very heart and memories. These 'adjustments' borne false recollections of himself aligning himself with Naminé, breeding an entitlement of guardian as her sole protector from both evil to falling stars alike. This drastic twisting of fate exposed the darkness that had enveloped the Organization, an unwrapping of a thick plot of cloaks and daggers, and thus rekindling the candle of his existence and resurrecting a fallen warrior of light. And alongside Sora, together they engaged head-to-head with Marluxia, the self-crowned lord of Castle Oblivion, joining the unfathomable strength their conjoined Keyblades wielded and knocked the empowered Nobody from his wishful throne. That uncharacteristical completion of a deed in the past, the replica sought out Riku for one final bout.
Although every single hair on his head matched, his battle stance was perfectly mastered, swing for swing mimicked exactly right, an image inside and out that was absolutely and flawlessly equal to Riku’s, he was carved from the Darkness. And not all the Darkness in the world would save him from the unsnuffable Light that Riku had finally rediscovered within himself; for he had naught but a single differencing constant. Riku possessed a beating, feeling, living Heart. And it was his sword, his shield, his strength and courage; it was what distinguished him from the phony. One of the many things no amount of science could ever hope to duplicate; but the only thing that would guide Riku and ensure his triumph over the dark past that stared him down in a death match. The duel would of course mark the end of the Riku Replica, but since the rebirth of the Organization, Vexen reminisced through the equations of his failed creation and boldly recreated a second life for his clone as well. And thus utilizing the remains of his DNA capture from the first replica and genetic aging, he crafted another to mirror the current Riku just as perfectly as the first. This time, however, there was neither Naminé to meddle with his delicate chain of memories nor the toxicities of ill persuasions brooding within the too-thin fabrications of trust within the Organization. Working strictly under the word of Vexen, his true purpose is known to his creator and his creator alone, and as for the other members' acknowledgement, the replica is nothing but a pawn, used merely for miniscule taskings about the lab and other minor duties.
Personality: Despite the rebirthing of Riku Replica whose physical genetics have been slightly altered, the haughty attitude and collected demeanor of the first remains intact due to the fact that Vexen was unable to acquire any data from the present day Riku. He holds himself in high regards, turning his nose up at those he feels are inferior and commands respect from all. Full of seemingly inexhaustible vigor and an inextinguishable spirit, he’s quick to step forth and take any challenge thrown at him, his unyielding self-confidence and determination to be number one fueling his youthful flame. Riku’s a passionate fighter, preferring the sound strike of metal to intangible magics, always pushing himself to his absolute limits, swearing an oath with himself that the first and last hits of any fight will be his. And though his tongue is as sharp as his Keyblade, neither a witty remark nor a cold retort will be spent unnecessarily. This refined teen will often stand by unvoiced, simply observing his fellow castle occupants with indifference, his lofty dignity at fault when it comes to conversing with those he simply cannot lower himself to trust nor befriend. Replica may rub off as cold and uncaring, and he might very well be straight to the core, but given opportunity’s shine, he’ll gladly step into the spotlight with exaggeration in his movements, show himself off shamelessly and pose pretentiously against all the many forms of weakness. However arrogantly self-absorbed as Riku may be, should anyone threaten his Creator, he’ll fall back protectively, taking on a role of both Protector and Server, living for his safety and a rewarding acceptance.
Appearance: Repliku’s features have smoothed, reflecting a grown version of his mold with a broader build and lengthened hair. His dark, formfitting attire and kapa remains unchanged.
Picture:
(sorry about the slight blur)Roleplay Sample:
I promised her all that time ago.
“You’re not the one who’s meant to protect Naminé…” Riku’s Replica declared through gritted teeth. He clenched a fist, visibly shaking with a bubbling frustration that’s tortured his mind and burned itself deep into his chest. It continues to etch itself through his body, every inch of his being, into his soul, it’s eating him up, the idea that Naminé might choose Sora over himself. And it threatened to break him, to peel away the layers of his heart until there was only nothing. No! The blade in his hand cuts the air in a violent swing, banishing the other boy’s claims, his lies. A steely gaze snares Sora’s crystal-blue, narrowed to jealous lime slits, a silent challenge. These were his memories. It was his promise. “I’m supposed to be the one to protect her!” he half-yells, waving his weapon in a horizontal slash followed by a downwards slice, “But you and your memories always get in the way, Sora!”
I’ll protect Naminé by stopping you.
Replica’s quick to fall back into a well-balanced battle stance, shoulders back and drawn taught, knuckles white around the neck of his weapon, mind blissfully blank. He’s even quicker to lunge forward, swiping at the reluctant Keybearer and bounds after him with furious jabs. They’re circling each other, right foot over left, left over right, staring the other down, waiting for opportunity’s best. It’s an unconscious spar between darkness and light – no, a duel for the truth, puppet versus justified existence. And with every step, every attack strung together through a fluidity of unpracticed brilliance, it’s mirrored perfectly by the other. They spin and dodge edge’s reach, dancing around and jumping away from the other as the fight stretches both time and exhaustion. It’s Naminé that keeps him going. It’s the promise that keeps him moving. He’s determined to prove his worth, to show her that he’s capable of protecting their memories. She’s worried; he chances a glimpse. But her eyes aren’t on him. She doesn’t notice Replica’s efforts. He can see the fear reflected in her eyes, flitting, writhing, and completely unphased by his drive. They aren’t watching him, they never were. She’s not worried about him, she’s not worried about the outcome, she’s worried for Sora.
When we were small, lots of shooting stars fell. Naminé wondered what would happen if one hit the island. She was worried, so I told her: “Even if a shooting star falls on us, I’ll protect you.”
And it’s then that it strikes him, not all at once, but rather, slowly like stars raining across the sky, one at a time, weighing his mind and heart. A split second too late, a screech of metal on metal in a parry that never happened as the Keyblade drove down on Replica’s shoulder. He stumbles back, sword slipping from numbed fingers as he drops to a weary knee. No, he had to have imagined it. Anger growing, it spreads from his heart and up through his arm, a dark aura, an unnaturally cold, numbing hate. He shouts, releasing all the negative energy that’s bided within from his palm in an explosive hiss of flashing darkness. The entity crackled and popped as it tore through the vacant space before connecting with the other boy’s chest with a sickening thud; he hadn’t needed to see it for himself, the pained yelp and the sound of his body hitting hard and the groaning aftereffects were enough to know Sora was finally down. It was a dirty trick but a necessary one. “Looks like I win.” Replica’s triumph echoed dully throughout the room. Twenty-eight inches separated Sora and himself, but only four lay between the other and Way to the Dawn’s point. “You’re through fake!” he sneered, words dripping from his tongue like poison and eyes gleaming cynically as he lifted his weapon to deal the final blow.