Post by Tanaka on Apr 1, 2009 23:11:06 GMT -4
Arrancar
(I am aware that these positions are currently either filled or locked due to the current arc. However, evidence suggests that those wishing to take espada slots should apply early and then be assigned available numbers after the end of the current arc. Therefore I am submitting my application now. I don’t want to be piped afterall.)
Name: Jean Le Maingre, more often known as Boucicault
Gender: Male
Age: 588 years dead
Ranking: Espada
Number: 8
Base Type: Vasto Lorde
Physical Description: Jean is not the largest of men, but he was large for his time and although standing at a square six feet may be the average height for today, almost six hundred years ago it was notable and gave a man a certain confidence that he still walks with to this day. Working from the head down the first thing anyone is going to notice is the fact that he is wearing a helmet. One red and two white feathers stream from the top in a grand decorative adornment. His helmet itself is of the pig nose design, that is to say that beneath the eye slits the visor goes into a sharp point. There is a practical purpose behind this in that incoming sword blows would likely be deflected, or bounced off to the side. On the underside of the snout are several breathing holes, the entire visor can be unscrewed and removed from the rest of the helmet in only a few minutes. This is because visors restrict breathing and visibility and though breathing is no longer a problem since he has become a hollow the visibility issue still stands. Furthermore, removing the visor allows for the entire face to be seen and normal conversations to take place. However, Jean is a warrior born and bred and will thus usually have the visor attached, ready for the fray.
His actual face is surprisingly neat and well seen to given the fact that this is a man who is used to being knee deep in slaughter. No stranger to the royal court he learned to be presentable and thus has always kept well shaven and clean. His chestnut brown hair has been styled so as to be simplistic to say the last, in essence it is a short cut with no fringe what so ever so as to keep hair out of his eyes in a fight. His nose would once have carried a proud, almost statuesque baring and the hint of that still remains but unfortunately a fight back in life had resulted in his visor being crumpled in by a mace and having his nose broken very badly and this wound has carried over into death thus the bridge of his nose had turned into more of a small ditch and the point has been flattened then set again, slightly squewed to one side. Aside from this his face has managed to avoid too much personal injury and is thus devoid of further scaring. He has the fine, hard jaw of a nobleman, made all the more prominent for his permanently upright and generally jutting posture. His eyes seem always to be slightly too open like a man who is forever bright and alert as well as slightly intense. In a fight however, these dull blue almost grey eyes manage to take on a slightly manic quality without opening wider, a shimmer deep inside just gives away a hint of the bloodlust beneath. But it is not an insane, frothing at the maw type of bloodlust but rather that focused, considered look. The sort of look which hints at a man who can hack and smash for all he is worth but still have the mental wherewithal to pull a wounded friend out of the fray or focus on his objectives. The remains of his hollow mask hug the line of his jaw running from ear to ear and seems to broaden slightly closer to the ears. He was always grateful for this since it meant that when he does, eventually remove his visor in order to hold a proper conversation he can give full and proper expressions without having a mask obscuring half his face.
His skin is slightly tanned but only ever so giving him a healthy looking tone, this was due to too his considerable time spent in Genoa in what is now considered Italy during his life and this has carried over to his death. He appears to be middle aged with wrinkle lines and less firm skin starting to set in though his hair, mercifully avoided ever going grey. He pulls aging off well however, and rather than starting to look tired or defying age with a lack of grace he instead pulls it off with a certain dignity and style, linked possibly to his noble bearing and posture.
Despite his age the rest of his body is very well developed, as you can expect from a life of fighting, indeed this man had been trained for war and nothing else since he was old enough to hold a wooden sword. As a result of this every inch of him is muscled almost to the point of ridiculousness. Indeed his right arm in particular is slightly over developed with years of one handed sword practice and holding lances in a joust. A trait shared with the infamous King Richard the third, several years later. This feature however is most often obscured by the clothing and armour worn by the man but more on that latter. Since he wears armour both in life and death his body has very few scars derived from cuts and scrapes. However, broken bones were more common, especially since blunt weapons such as the mace were starting to be used by the period of his death. It has already been detailed how his nose was broken but once, when tripped up by a halberdier, the man used the hammer found on some versions of the weapon to smash down and break Jean’s shield bearing wrist and indeed much of that arm. The crude operation to save the arm after the battle left a great scare down the inside of his left arm furthermore a mild infection left some of the skin there discoloured. Aside from this his body is a picture of health. The mandatory hole common to all his kind is located just bellow his rib cage and is roughly the size of a tightly clenched fist. The number, conveying his station is etched into the back of his left shoulder and is roughly the size of three fingers.
Now we shall detail the rest of his normal clothing, aside from the helmet which has already been covered. First of all he wears a crude cloth shirt and trousers complete with socks as the bottom most layer. On top of this he then wears what is essentially an all in one jumpsuit filled with thick woollen padding to absorb the shock of impacts. Though in death this feature is not as potent as it once was it is still useful but worn more out of habit than anything else as will be covered later on. With this he wears a similar little leather cap, tied tight to the head and secured by leather strings beneath the chin. Over his body he now places complete chainmail shirt and trousers which even cover his feet and is made to hold tight to his body by a series of pulls strings tied along the back of his body and legs in a manner similar to a corset, though nowhere near as tight. Already this ensemble is formidable protective and formidably heavy, at least for a lesser man and were we in the early medieval period in the mid eleventh century it would end here. But instead the protection gets only more formidable. Full plate had not yet been invented by the time of this man’s death and his equipment mimics that of his life’s almost exactly, full plate was a trademark of the Bosworth era and beyond but half plate was around at the time of this man’s death all be it the reserve of the nobility. As such he wears it and wears it with pride for reasons to be explained later.
His toes are covered in several thin, overlapping metal bands allowing minimal movement in his toes, the rest of his foot is protected by what are in essence sculpted metal shoes, forged to be a combination of subtle curved decoration and protective coating. His shins, and the flip side of his lower legs are protected by two metal shin guards and their logical opposite on the rear of the leg, on the front these overlap knee guards but on the rear of the knee there is only the chainmail covering to allow for articulation at this vital joint. The protection of his thighs is similar to that of his lower legs only larger to encompass the larger thigh muscles. His breast plate and back plate start at roughly the bottom of the ribcage allowing full bending at the waist, however, this leaves a large area poorly protected by mail alone. So in order to counter this several over lapping horizontal plates hang off of the bottom of best and back plate in order to try and mitigate the weaker point of the abdomen and small of the back however the protection here is still weaker than many other points. Well fitted shoulder guards made of three over lapping plates to allow for articulation and are followed by protection of both arms in a similar fashion to the legs. However, there is a large hole in the plate armour around the pit of the elbow, indeed this gap is so large as to halve the size of the plates protecting what would be considered the inside of the arm. Finely crafted gauntlets protect only the back of the hands and are made of tiny plate after tiny plate to allow for grip and full movement, the palm of the hand is protected only by leather, this allows for good, firm grip on weapons, horse harnesses etc without turning the palm of the hand into a raw red mess after the inevitable wear and tear.
It should be pointed out that the edge of every surface of his plate armour is lined with a small decorative band of polished gold add to this the fact that every inch of all his armour is polished to a mirror shine and you are met with a bizarre and almost otherworldly appearance. Pray he is never reflecting the sun or you will get dazzled with an effect akin to snow blindness. Over this brilliantly polished armour he wears a tabard displaying what was his old coat of arms in life that he now point blank insists upon wearing. This coat of arms is a plain white back ground with a heraldic style red eagle spreading it’s wings above its head. The eyes, claws and beak all of which are blue as well as lines on the inside’s of its wings where the bones would run.
Personality If forced to describe the man’s personality in one sentence it would be that he was a man desperately trying to regain pride and prestige once lost, and who hates to admit the fact he ever lost it in the first place. This phenomenon always existed in him during his time as a hollow, especially when one of the lower orders but it was thrown into sharp relief after he began exploring the man he had once been and he is left with the burning desire to be that once again. To the extent where he makes his own underlings or followers refer to him as Marshal or even grand Marshal. A title he should have lost hundreds of years ago upon his death, furthermore he clings to his old coat of arms once he had regained the knowledge of just what it was. Despite this however, he is not some sad shell of a man, mopping desperately over glories lost. Instead he has resolved to be true to himself and gain glories anew and be every inch the man he once was, even in private life.
His personality can be split into two major categories, his thinking in battle and his thinking out of it. When in battle he has only one consideration and that is to win. No matter what tricks he has to use, no matter what rule he has to break no matter how many weaker foes he has to crush beneath his heal he will do it and do it all with a strange, focused malevolent intent that takes all the advantages of being blood drunk but couples them with the rational thinking of a calm mind, a dangerous combination indeed. Part of the noble flower of France in life he was always in the first wave of any attack, despite the fact he was often commanding the entire army as well. Not only does he lead from the front but he often purposefully puts himself in a position where it is hard to retreat. This is to show those around him that he has put his personal welfare in the hands of the outcome of the battle and thus he believes he can win. In life this always encouraged the soldiers and knights around him to fight harder and never run and he applies the same principles in death. He however, is not without honour. Though he may stoop to anything in order to win a fight once he has won it he continues to act like a nobleman. Unless the opponent fights to the bitter end he will take the enemy prisoner and ransom the opponent back, furthermore he would not keep the captured man in a cell but rather look after him in a manner fighting with the prisoners station. This principle however, is hard to apply as a hollow. Thus he will either kill or consume those who fight him to the last or whom he cannot afford to let live, release the weaker ones who surrender and those who give him a decent fight but yield to him in the end he will invite into his own ranks provided it is safe to do so. This principle however, only applies to hollows. In life the heathen non believer was shown no mercy and always executed, this has warped in death to mean all non hollows must be regarded as heathen and butchered without mercy.
When not in a fight he can be surprisingly charming, though he carries himself with a posture and air of confidence suitable to one of the most respected men in France when in personal conversation he is polite and gracious. Furthermore, though polite he tends to talk straight and plain to the men but will often switch to a more elegant prose style when engaging with women. Using many more metaphors and abstract concepts as well as small little poems and generally treating each one of them as their own, individual precious flower. This has often put him into a quandary when he has been forced to fight them but in that circumstance he makes them an honorary man for the length of the fight. The reasoning behind this sudden shift in tone is because not only was the French court the birth of the concept of courtly love and chivalry Jean was its father in life, even going so far as to set up a knightly order based on chivalry and courtly love and this element of his personality has, as have many others, been carried over though he does not cling to it is fervently as he does his old martial glories.
However, the word courtly runs through this principle right to it’s very core. Those who are not part of the court, that is to say those who are not noble, he treats like filth. Though he will not abuse them as soon as he seems them, he will ignore them, show no consideration for their welfare, order them to their deaths. Conversely to this he is doggedly loyal to the ruling elite and will obey their every whim no matter how idiotic or stupid their decisions, though he may try to talk them out of their misguided efforts once their mind is made up however he will obey and even give his life in the vein attempt. Since his attachment to Las Noches this has meant he obeys royalty unflinchingly, he finds this a pleasing return to what he once was.
History: His history at least his history in life was, and is again, his all. The son of Jean le Maingre he was given the exact same name as his father. And much like his father would go on to lead a distinguished military career and become the marshal of France. He started his military career at age twelve as a page to Louis the second of Bourbon, a noble start to one of the noblest careers of pre revolutionary France. He followed Louis the second in the campaign against Normandy, though as a mere page he saw little of battle itself he was there before and after the battle and saw many fresh men ride into battle and saw few return, bloody and grimy with the effort of battle. It left a lasting impression but he was not scared by it, nor did he become disillusioned, rather he realised how determined, how ruthlessly you had to fight even to survive, let alone win. This realisation became useful a mere four years later when he was knighted on the eve of the battle Roosebeke by his master and then pushed into the fray the next day. He formed the vanguard of the initially unsuccessful French attack and had to be dragged from the field by his comrades not because he was injured but rather because he refused to retreat and just kept on swinging his then weapon of choice, a great double handed sword. Once the rebels rear began to collapse after a heavy cavalry charge Jean went in again with the second infantry attack right at the front, blood and grime still on him from the first attack. This time they broke the enemy, cleaving them apart and putting down the rebellious dogs.
Not much longer he embarked upon one of his more successful campaigns alongside the Teutonic order against the heathen Lithuanians to force them to convert to Catholicism. After this successful endeavours he embarked upon many lesser campaigns, all of which he performed in notably fighting the Moors in Spain and subjugating Toluse into France he once again fought alongside his old master Louis the second of Bourbon this time pushing into Spain once again which had become a new stage for the hundred years war. Here he preformed notably and although he was born into a sub branch of the Royal family here, when he saved his masters life he started his rise from a good, solid campaigning soldier to a household name. He continued his impressive military campaigning across the Balknlans, the near east and the holy land embarking upon several crusades, one of which he was captured upon but eventually ransomed back to France, as bad as this may seem it was not an uncommon occurrence. But it was his work in Prussia that gained him the esteemed title of Marshal of France. In 1390 there was a temporary peace with England which allowed him to engage in numerous jousts in which he widely proved himself to be the best tournament fighter alive in all forms of allowed combat but more importantly he was able to spend time at court. Though he never had children he did marry and was widely regarded to be a truly devoted and doting husband and whilst other treated their wives as an extension of their property Jean was one of the first truly chivalrous nights and treated the woman second only to his king. It was at around this time that he began to form notions of courtly love and true chivalry. Though he would go on to fight several major campaigns across Europe and beyond this notion never left him and in 1409 he set up an order based on these romantic principles. He embarked upon campaigns across Genoa and Cyprus bringing more regions under French control until those fateful last few days before what would be his last battle.
The beginning of the end for this man came at the battle of Agincourt in 1415. Despite his successes across the Mediterranean, eastern Europe, Spain and the Holy Lands his advice not to fight the battle and instead lure the English further into France to stretch their lines to the point of snapping, the less experienced royal princes, Jean’s superiors by birth, insisted on fighting due to their superior numbers.Unfortunately the slope, woods on either side and mud was the French armies undoing on that bloody field and the English arrows did them no favours either. By the time they reached then English line they were a tired, worn out mess, Jean was tired himself but along with his vanguard of handpicked knights he protected the symbol of the might of France, the oriflamme, but alas it fell, and was captured as was he. The fall of that banner was a symbol of the defeat of France and it was the end of Jean’s career. He was swiftly dragged off the field and taken prisoner. His station demanded he be treated with all the luxury of a duke. He was kept in secure comfort for six years but it ground his mind down slowly, because before, before he knew he would get out and fight for his king another day, maybe even return to court and eventually have children with his loving wife, but no, he knew the English would never, ever let him out. He was too dangerous, he was too good. If the royals had listened to him the French could have won the campaign and the legend that is now Henry the fifth could have been turned into a sub note of history. So although there was a comfortable bed for him to lie on, good food to eat and books to read, even conversations with the English king from time to time the aging man seemed to age that much faster and wither away over six long years until his eventual death in English captivity.
Now at first he did not realise he was dead. He could not normally leave the room in which he was imprisoned and something akin to shock prevented him from realising the fact he was looking at his own body lying comfortably on his bed. He only tagged that something was wrong when he began to notice the chain weighing him down and upon noticing this he at once grabbed the wrong end of the stick. He believed this to be some form of imprisonment even though he was dead, which he had worked out by this point. Then of course, being a religious man he thought the only people that would try to stop his soul ascending into heaven would be the agents of the devil no matter what their guises. This was, as it would turn out, a horribly misguided notion. But how was he to know? So he drew up a hasty plan, he theorised that eventually his new jailors would have to arrive and then, at that juncture he would garrotte the man with his own bonds. Of course a shinigami eventually arrived to send him to the soul society but all Jean saw was a man in outlandish clothing with a sword and the crusades had taught him to kill people like that and this person was dressed even more outlandishly than any of them so he burst into a desperate frenzy not waiting for explanation or calming words. The shinigami put up a fight, as you would expect from a trained warrior but was reluctant to cut at the chain of fate, Jean’s primary weapon, plus the shinigami was unseated, fresh, green. No match for a half insane, desperate Jean. Forcing the man to the ground with sheer effort, head butting the shinigami time after time to stun the man whilst using his own chain of fate to strangle the startled shinigami Jean secured victory. Unfortunately for him this did two things, firstly it started the rapid degradation of his chain of fate and secondly, having killed a shinigami it drew attention to him and would get him hunted down.
However, now he was free, or so he thought. He rapidly ran into the streets of London, of course no patch on what they are today, and there decided to hide inside the hustle and bustle of mankind. However, he swiftly learned that the outlandishly dressed men with the swords were not all you had to worry about, if he had thought them the devils workers in disguises then some of the bizarre monstrosities he saw had to be some of Satan’s chosen, these creatures were of course hollows and little did he know it but he was soon to join their number. He even saw a few of his own kind on the crowded city streets and by that I mean souls not yet having undergone any form of transformation or processing. After several days of hiding and desperately running though the filth incrusted streets of London he needed to eat, he was hungry, his stomach hurt and it hurt badly. He had not eaten in days and this hunger was like a plague, no illness he had ever had came close to this. He had tried stealing food off of peoples tables, scoffing anything he could find. But nothing worked, nothing and the pain in his gut just got greater and greater. It was all consuming, his vision got blurry and his head hurt so much. He could hardly keep conscious and he did not notice the degradation of his chain of fate. His head seemed to collapse in on itself and he feel to his knees, his brain seemed to shut down in its entirety and he passed out of his current form of consciousness.
When he awoke he was driven to consume and ravage indiscriminately, with no concern for any long term goals or repercussions all he knew was that if he did not eat it hurt so very badly. But it hurt to eat as well, but in a different way, the more he ate, the further he descended into what he had become, the more he forgot of what he once had been, the more he lost grip on his personality and his past, slipping away bit by bit. To the point where he even forgot his own name and instead went by the name he was sometimes known by in life, Boucicault. Even then he rarely went by that since lower level hollows, twisted monstrosities that they are, tended not to bother with names and were instead dedicated to ripping one another to shreds as well as any passing spirit they happened across. This set of affairs continued for many years, with the more cunning or brutal surviving and the lesser beings being crushed. By now he had forgotten almost all semblance of his former self but the next great change came with the great plague of London in 1665. Over time he had been growing in power and capability but the change was so gradual he had barely noticed it, however, the rapid upturn in the death rate provided a positive buffet for him and his kind, he, and a few select others who had managed to clamber to the top of the local tree had it almost all to themselves. Now the shinigami had been sending teams to London for centuries, they had to and a few people had been sent of Jean himself but now the plague had made the situation get out of hand and a larger detachment of shinigami were sent in to nip this potentially serious problem in the bud. The resulting battle sent sword and spell alike hurtling off in all directions. This combat caused the great fire of London, 1666 which has often been credited as an accidental plague cure. Furthermore many people believe the fire to have started in pudding lane and this it did. What few people know was that it was a stray kido that was the fatal spark but that is only a side point. What mattered was the fact that in the fiery chaos that ensued Jean, along with two of the other dominant hollows of London, managed to escape. But they did not escape to the surrounding country as they would have previously, no, one of his old rivals, now turned colleague in a moment of desperate mutual need, had secretly been traversing to Hueco Mundo for some time and it was to this sandy refuge that he was now taken. Unfortunately his blood drunk attitude had him screaming to get back into the fray, his more sensible colleagues forbad him and closed the portal whilst holding him back. Jean, however, is not a man to be restrained and promptly set about tearing apart and consuming the chief culprit whilst the others ran for their lives. But unfortunately in consuming the man he trapped himself in this sandy, blasted realm. This however, proved to be a blessing in disguise for the man.
It was a blessing because here he would be able to feast upon hollows of such number and magnitude so as to vastly increase his power, a power which had recently received a major kick start from the great plague. As he embarked upon a slaughter across the sands he hardly noticed his body shifting and changing but those around him often commented on his armoured carapace oozing with a strange foam, not all too dissimilar to an armadillo’s though with a better protected belly since he walked upright. Furthermore it was around about now that he became aware of the peculiar ranking unique to hollow society and furthermore he became aware of the fact that he was a menos, though within that he knew little. What he did notice however, much to his concern, was that despite the greater nature of his conquests he seemed to become smaller and smaller, heading back to human size. He had allways associated size with strength and he was worried that he was losing power. This however, could not be further from the truth, furthermore he was regaining his mind. Though his past memories eluded him his personality was returning to him, ideas of brutal battle and chivalric court drifted slowly back into his mind. He found himself taking noble mercy upon those who surrendered to him but always lusting for the next, grand victory forcing him to seek out greater and greater foes and when they did not yield as the honour of personal combat allowed them he would consume them.
He then encountered a hollow named Roye, who by a bizarre coincidence had once been one of Jean’s most stalwart companions in his Balkan campaigns. Though neither recognised the other since they were but shameful reflections of what they once were with no actual memory of their past lives but they did feel strangely drawn to one another and though they fought upon their meeting Roye yielded within all the boundaries of chivalry and Jean took him within his care. As the two journeyed together across the sands they came out with all sorts of odd conversational slips such as “I suppose you would not care for that.” Or “This is not at all like you.” Without having any reason for knowing those elements of the others personality or behaviour and such slips would always be followed by awkward silences and even more awkward looks. However, enough of this and they decided that there were simply too many coincidences. Thus Roye, Jean’s colleague, who had happened upon the ability to forge portals between this world and the living word and realising thier names were French, brought the pair back into what was then early twentieth century France, just before the outbreak of the first world war. They prowled the lands high and low searching for clues about one another until Jean happened upon Ryo’s grave in Toulouse. This bore a full name and dates, with hard facts to go on the pair pored through historical records, Ryo learning more of his exploits and the pair making a guess to Jean’s identity. The breakthrough came when the name Boucicault, the name Jean was known by as a hollow, came up. From this they were able to establish Jean’s true identity and the sheer glorious marvels of Jean’s exploits. At first the effect was devastating, though Jean remembered nothing of his feelings or sensations, knew nothing first hand, he knew with total certainty that the man described in these pages was him and that he had been once so great and fine, now reduced to some deformed, half insane monster which he himself had once thought of as the soldiers of Satan. He seemed to become a broken man, taunted by glories lost. However, in time he took strength from the knowledge. He had been one of the true greats and he would be again, he would, literally, be true to himself. He would uphold his own legacy and forge a career in the world of the hollows to rival his own in the service of France and the church. He took note of his old, resplendent coat of arms and decided to carry this on as his badge, a symbol of the continuity from greatness to greatness.
Returning to the barren wastes of the hollow realm he travelled up and down, seeking to unite strong and worthy hollows beneath his banner but few were interested in the ravings of a man obsessed with a bizarre mixture of brutality and chivalry. During these futile wanderings he learned from Roye some of the finer points of being a hollow and Roye, ever the more cerebral of the pair taught Jean numerous hollow tricks and techniques to compliment his brute strength. However, these days were doomed to come to a close and this they did when the duo was ambushed in a cowardly move. Jean was sleeping whilst Roye stood guard over his master. Roye head much mumbeling and whispers about some idiotic Vasto Lorde, which apparently Jean had become, who rather than subjugating the lower hollows was instead inviting them to join him, well anyone from menos grade upwards. He thought of them as the lowest rung of nobility and thus worthy of some respect, anyone beneath that was a mere peasant not fit to wipe the mud from his boots, they had no opinion that mattered. However, a large gaggle of menos of all grades had come together to pick apart the apparently stupid Vasto Lorde and feast upon him as something of a short cut to evolution. Roye went to investigate a noise but was alas caught unaware from behind, though he put up a fierce fight, taking down several of the aggressors he was inevitably overwhelmed. This however, gave time for Jean to stir, ready himself and rush into the fray, fighting like a mad man to reclaim his fallen comrade and though Jean slew many a foe and drove away the rest it was alas too late for his great colleague whom Jean now believed to be fallen, never to rise again, in any form or any place. Roye had offered no surrender to the aggressor in the protection of his master and thus his death was justified but Jean was so overcome with anger and grief he threw his chivalrous principles out of the window one last time and embarked upon a hunt across the barren sands, tracking down and consuming those few who escaped the initial fight. At the end of this ferocious effort he was left with two things, an emptiness of purpose and enough power to advance to the next stage. But what was the point? There was no one left, no court, no France, no one who respected his ideals, no wars to fight just an endless, pitiful struggle with no direction, no focus.
However, a short time later word reached him of a great fortress, known as Las Noches but far more importantly it held an organisation akin to a knightly order, it had armies at its command and joy of joys a royal family, just like the one he had given himself to all those hundreds of years ago. There was a slight snag however, his mask. Apparently to penetrate the upper echelons of the outfit he had to tear the mask from his face, a simple enough task on the face of things but apparently a process only the hardiest could survive. None the less he would not accept anything under the upper most echelons of the group as his mind and past demanded. So, unflinchingly he ceased it by the top in both hands and tugged hard, so very hard, he tugged, tore and ripped again and again. It was as though he were tearing his own face away, which he was in a sense. But tear at it he did and after much wailing and gnashing of teeth he tore the bulk of it off and tossed it away in a final great defiant wail. He threw his hands to his face and touched flesh, flesh he had not felt for centuries, he had undergone more radical changes, his carapace was gone, replaced by a great suit of half plate that seemed as part of him as anything. So ready, and fit for duty in the royal courts at last he marched for Las Noches, and to his new master.
Abilities (pre resurrecction )
reparaciones de emergencia (emergency repairs) His foremost pre resurrection ability is the ability to mend his protective shell of armour, though this ability does not extended to his flesh nor does it apply if entire plates of armour are removed or destroyed, they would have to be recovered or replaced before repair. Dents in his armour flatten back out and tears seal to recomplete protective layers. The tears in his armour cannot be sealed for at least ten seconds after it is torn open and any attacks which stunt reiatsu flow will extend this time period, furthermore he has to channel a good deal of his own power into this ability meaning that whilst armour is repaired higher lever abilities are off limits or made considerably weaker however the strength in his arm, as it were, does not suffer. On top of this if the same point is attacked again within the re growth period and with enough force to damage armour were it complete, progress is halted and a further ten seconds have to be waited before the healing resumes
reserve el arma (reserve weapon) If for whatever reason he is deprived of his main weapon, most likely because it will be knocked out of his hand he can summon a reserve weapon, the size of a short sword it is not as powerful as his main weapon, it possess no special abilities, does not have the same cutting abilities. It is just a simple sword and though it can go to blade to blade with most opponents weapons it is purely an emergency measure to give him a fighting chance at a retreat or recover his zanpakuto. Furthermore he can only summon it for short periods, no more than two minutes before it flickers and fades when he will then be forced to fight with his bare hands.
Additional Info:
As hinted at in the above ability description his armour is far more important than mere decoration but I feel it would be more appropriate to discuss it in hollow techniques latter in the profile.
General:
Appearance: Well the first thing anyone is going to notice is that unlike most other zanpakutos this weapon does not take the form of a sword or other traditional blades rather this man wields a late model halberd. This weapon is as tall as he is and the vast majority of the weapon is the wooden staff griped in both hands. The staff has metal sheets roughly two fingers wide running down from the head of the weapon, right down the pole to the bottom, and though wood can be seen between the four sheets, one on each side of the pole, it is impossible to chop at like you would a tree. This means that the core of the weapon is light but the sheets mean the staff can take a zanpakuto blow and not be chopped in half. The sheets come together in what is in effect a small pommel at the bottom of the staff to guard against wear and tear as it inevitably drags on the ground gets bashed about. The business end of the weapon is of course the head. Imagine the staff were a spear or small pike. However elongate the head of the spear to be approximately the length of the average forearm but no wider than a spear head, also make the spearhead conical so it is easier to withdraw and insert and slightly less likely to snag. Where the spear head meets the staff add an axe blade in the position that you would normally put an axe, protruding from the side of the staff at the very top. On the reverse side of the staff from the axe blade put a small hammer, which ironically looks more like a very small anvil flipped onto its side. This is designed to be a blunt weapon used to shock and stun and was purposefully designed to bypass armour. Although this cannot create cuts and scrapes the shock waves sent by the impact are capable of stunning, knocking back of even breaking bones without ever tearing a hole in protective layers or skin but in order to break a bone with this hammer you would have to land a far more forceful blow than you have to in order to create a cut with a sharp part on open skin. To add another level of complexity to this weapon at the bottom of this little hammer is a small, very sharp, very strong hook. It looks savage but too small to do anything
that serious, it’s primary purpose is to hook into the flaps in armour or protective casings, the little gaps, overlaps and nucks. He then rips back or generally prizes the armour off like opening a tin can thus opening up a vulnerable patch to attack. The metal of the weapon is a shiny silver colour like the majority of his armour and seems to not only reflect but magnify the brightness of the sun.
Note: In case my description seemed a little vague or confusing I have included a picture of a early period halberd, the only one I could get, Though it is not a strict reflection of the weapon it should help understand the arrangement of the three arms.
www.realmcollections.com/images/p/Halberds_European_Knights_Halberd_2612_124.jpg
Resurrecctión
Armor/ Appearance:His weapon is what changes most noticeably, whatever part of the weapon he is gripping with his right hand turns into a normal, one handed sword grip, where you would expect to find the pommel of the weapon you instead fine a smaller scale model of the halberd head, the axe blade for instance is now no larger than from the base of the palm of your hand to the first knuckle and of course the head has been inverted so the point which would have once met the staff would now meet the bottom of your clenched fist and the spear point faces towards the ground. There is then a conventional long sword blade protruding in the normal manner from the grip. The grip itself is made of bright red silk, threaded with gold lace in a spiral pattern. On the grip, usually obscured by the hand griping the weapon are two small buttons, one at the top, one at the bottom, more on those latter.
The second thing anyone is going to notice is the spawning of a shield, held by the left hand and also secured by leather straps to the forearm it can be thrown away by a firm action but is highly unlikely to be knocked away by the efforts of the enemy. The shield seems to grow out of the cracks in the armour and is a solid white substance similar to that of much of the armoured skin hollows are so often covered in. The shield is of classic chivalric period design In that it is broad enough to cover from slightly beyond the left shoulder all the way across the chest and tall enough to go from shoulder to elbow twice over. The upper half has straight sides leading downwards but from the half way point on the ends tapper gently to meet in the middle at a point. Furthermore it should be pointed out that this shield is not flat, rather it curves gently on the left and right sides with the middle being the most protrusive point. If you are having difficulty imagining this place you hand in front of you with the palm facing you and then curve slightly so as the begin to point in your direction and you will have a rough idea of the curvature of the shield, the point of this is to deflect incoming blows and slide them off to the side. This shield is as tough as his breastplate and underlying layers combined
Thirdly a white substance resembling Polly filler seems to spring fourth and fill all the gaps in his armour which had previously been left unprotected or merely covered by chainmail The outermost layer of this substance rapidly solidifies and toughens up like leather but like skin is still governed by the movements of the muscles beneath, the layers beneath are still semi liquid and allow free movement given his strentgh. This provided these vulnerable spots with much greater protection as the leathery outer surface is as tough as his plate armour but its suppleness does not restrict movement. This substance is in fact present everywhere on his body, aside from the face, but is only visible where it has seeped through the holes in the chainmail or outright gaps in these defences. This means that attacking the sections covered by plate you will have to get through an obstacle twice as tough as it once was. This means that the areas where the pollyfiller like substanceare visible are still the weakest points. It should also be noted that this substance, just like chainmail, is more susceptible to thrusting rather than slashing attacks but still, you cannot expect thrusting attacks to break through on the first attempt but they will work more quickly than other forms of assault. The semi liquid layers beneath act as another form of shock absorption making it all the more difficult to stun or break Jean’s bones with blunt instruments.
Many people will not see his mask since by this point he will always have his visor down, after all he will be in a rather desperate fight. None the less his mask will expand to cover his mouth and in place leave breathing holes similar to those on his helmet The points of three downward facing red triangles can just be seen spaced evenly across what was once his mouth, they have a green outer edge and the way they are suddenly cut off at the top of what remains of his mask indicate the design once carried on up across his face, only he now knows what once lay there.
Abilities: expresar las reparaciones de emergencia (Express Emergency repairs)This is an improvement of the above, similarly named ability, repair time is now halved to five seconds, similarly all outside delaying effects are also halved. All forms of his protection can be regenerated and now even if entire plates of armour are removed they can be reproduced by growing out of the white, pollyfiller like substance. It should be stressed that regenerating entire plates will prevent him from using any other techniques though the strength in his arm still does not wane. Furthermore, rather than the above five seconds regenerating plates will take the previous ten seconds. Just as with before any blows to the same point will stall the clock but the stall time is once again halved.
frenesí sangriento (bloody frenzy)This ability is simply a burst akin to a berserkers’ rage. Though his grit, strength and determination have always been notable now they are increased many times. The strength in his arm is vastly increased smashing through, blocks, guards, many armours and all sorts of defences. With this he also starts attacking faster and can get twice as many swings to the second as he once had though it should be noted he is still far from the most speedy fighter. Thirdly his wound bearing capacity shoots up, though his armour regeneration, ability to withstand blood loss and so forth is still the same his adrenalin is as such that he no longer really feels pain, often he will not even notice he is wounded. He simply does not care that he is hurt and so long as he is physically capable of moving in the realms of outside probability he will be able to move freely
There are however, two drawbacks to this state, firstly he is now incapable of telling friend from foe. Anything that moves is a target and he will as likely attack a random civilian as he will his duelling partner so it is wise to back off though he will hone in on his opponent as much as he can. Secondly, in order to keep up the frenzy he has to keep moving, left right, forward, back it does not matter but once he stops he calms down and falls out of the frenzy. The slight acceptation to this rule is if he is pinned in one spot by an enemy then, so long as he tries to move the frenzy will continue but twenty to thirty seconds of being restrained will force him to drop out of the frenzy. Because his codes of chivalry and conduct fly out of the window when in this rage, after all he will take no mercy, he is loath to use it and will only do so once the situation becomes truly desperate. There is also a maximum time limit on this even if he can keep moving. This limit is ten minutes. After this period he will be considerably drained, barely able to stand. All he could do is stagger off of the battlefield and rest. Though the trifling attacks of many opponents still cannot by pass his armour he no longer has the energy to fight back and thus must withdraw.
Vanguardia (cutting edge) The principle behind this is very simple, his weapons edges have simply become keener, they could cut through what they previously could not cut though the hardiest of defences will still be able to withstand the blows, though it should be noted for a shorter period of time. Similarly the shock of blunt impacts is also increased. Linked with this are the two buttons on the grip of the zanpakuto, pressing the top one extends the length of the longsword blade anything up to six feet, pressing the button again will cause it to retract to previous size and the blade can be stopped at any midway point. Pressing the lower button makes the grip it self larger, effectively allowing Jean to flip his grip and use the weapon much like he had been using the halberd previously, though of course the dimensions are now smaller. The grip can extended to a maximum of four feet making it’s maximum length smaller than that of the old staff by two feet.
General Info
(I am aware that these positions are currently either filled or locked due to the current arc. However, evidence suggests that those wishing to take espada slots should apply early and then be assigned available numbers after the end of the current arc. Therefore I am submitting my application now. I don’t want to be piped afterall.)
Name: Jean Le Maingre, more often known as Boucicault
Gender: Male
Age: 588 years dead
Ranking: Espada
Number: 8
Base Type: Vasto Lorde
Physical Description: Jean is not the largest of men, but he was large for his time and although standing at a square six feet may be the average height for today, almost six hundred years ago it was notable and gave a man a certain confidence that he still walks with to this day. Working from the head down the first thing anyone is going to notice is the fact that he is wearing a helmet. One red and two white feathers stream from the top in a grand decorative adornment. His helmet itself is of the pig nose design, that is to say that beneath the eye slits the visor goes into a sharp point. There is a practical purpose behind this in that incoming sword blows would likely be deflected, or bounced off to the side. On the underside of the snout are several breathing holes, the entire visor can be unscrewed and removed from the rest of the helmet in only a few minutes. This is because visors restrict breathing and visibility and though breathing is no longer a problem since he has become a hollow the visibility issue still stands. Furthermore, removing the visor allows for the entire face to be seen and normal conversations to take place. However, Jean is a warrior born and bred and will thus usually have the visor attached, ready for the fray.
His actual face is surprisingly neat and well seen to given the fact that this is a man who is used to being knee deep in slaughter. No stranger to the royal court he learned to be presentable and thus has always kept well shaven and clean. His chestnut brown hair has been styled so as to be simplistic to say the last, in essence it is a short cut with no fringe what so ever so as to keep hair out of his eyes in a fight. His nose would once have carried a proud, almost statuesque baring and the hint of that still remains but unfortunately a fight back in life had resulted in his visor being crumpled in by a mace and having his nose broken very badly and this wound has carried over into death thus the bridge of his nose had turned into more of a small ditch and the point has been flattened then set again, slightly squewed to one side. Aside from this his face has managed to avoid too much personal injury and is thus devoid of further scaring. He has the fine, hard jaw of a nobleman, made all the more prominent for his permanently upright and generally jutting posture. His eyes seem always to be slightly too open like a man who is forever bright and alert as well as slightly intense. In a fight however, these dull blue almost grey eyes manage to take on a slightly manic quality without opening wider, a shimmer deep inside just gives away a hint of the bloodlust beneath. But it is not an insane, frothing at the maw type of bloodlust but rather that focused, considered look. The sort of look which hints at a man who can hack and smash for all he is worth but still have the mental wherewithal to pull a wounded friend out of the fray or focus on his objectives. The remains of his hollow mask hug the line of his jaw running from ear to ear and seems to broaden slightly closer to the ears. He was always grateful for this since it meant that when he does, eventually remove his visor in order to hold a proper conversation he can give full and proper expressions without having a mask obscuring half his face.
His skin is slightly tanned but only ever so giving him a healthy looking tone, this was due to too his considerable time spent in Genoa in what is now considered Italy during his life and this has carried over to his death. He appears to be middle aged with wrinkle lines and less firm skin starting to set in though his hair, mercifully avoided ever going grey. He pulls aging off well however, and rather than starting to look tired or defying age with a lack of grace he instead pulls it off with a certain dignity and style, linked possibly to his noble bearing and posture.
Despite his age the rest of his body is very well developed, as you can expect from a life of fighting, indeed this man had been trained for war and nothing else since he was old enough to hold a wooden sword. As a result of this every inch of him is muscled almost to the point of ridiculousness. Indeed his right arm in particular is slightly over developed with years of one handed sword practice and holding lances in a joust. A trait shared with the infamous King Richard the third, several years later. This feature however is most often obscured by the clothing and armour worn by the man but more on that latter. Since he wears armour both in life and death his body has very few scars derived from cuts and scrapes. However, broken bones were more common, especially since blunt weapons such as the mace were starting to be used by the period of his death. It has already been detailed how his nose was broken but once, when tripped up by a halberdier, the man used the hammer found on some versions of the weapon to smash down and break Jean’s shield bearing wrist and indeed much of that arm. The crude operation to save the arm after the battle left a great scare down the inside of his left arm furthermore a mild infection left some of the skin there discoloured. Aside from this his body is a picture of health. The mandatory hole common to all his kind is located just bellow his rib cage and is roughly the size of a tightly clenched fist. The number, conveying his station is etched into the back of his left shoulder and is roughly the size of three fingers.
Now we shall detail the rest of his normal clothing, aside from the helmet which has already been covered. First of all he wears a crude cloth shirt and trousers complete with socks as the bottom most layer. On top of this he then wears what is essentially an all in one jumpsuit filled with thick woollen padding to absorb the shock of impacts. Though in death this feature is not as potent as it once was it is still useful but worn more out of habit than anything else as will be covered later on. With this he wears a similar little leather cap, tied tight to the head and secured by leather strings beneath the chin. Over his body he now places complete chainmail shirt and trousers which even cover his feet and is made to hold tight to his body by a series of pulls strings tied along the back of his body and legs in a manner similar to a corset, though nowhere near as tight. Already this ensemble is formidable protective and formidably heavy, at least for a lesser man and were we in the early medieval period in the mid eleventh century it would end here. But instead the protection gets only more formidable. Full plate had not yet been invented by the time of this man’s death and his equipment mimics that of his life’s almost exactly, full plate was a trademark of the Bosworth era and beyond but half plate was around at the time of this man’s death all be it the reserve of the nobility. As such he wears it and wears it with pride for reasons to be explained later.
His toes are covered in several thin, overlapping metal bands allowing minimal movement in his toes, the rest of his foot is protected by what are in essence sculpted metal shoes, forged to be a combination of subtle curved decoration and protective coating. His shins, and the flip side of his lower legs are protected by two metal shin guards and their logical opposite on the rear of the leg, on the front these overlap knee guards but on the rear of the knee there is only the chainmail covering to allow for articulation at this vital joint. The protection of his thighs is similar to that of his lower legs only larger to encompass the larger thigh muscles. His breast plate and back plate start at roughly the bottom of the ribcage allowing full bending at the waist, however, this leaves a large area poorly protected by mail alone. So in order to counter this several over lapping horizontal plates hang off of the bottom of best and back plate in order to try and mitigate the weaker point of the abdomen and small of the back however the protection here is still weaker than many other points. Well fitted shoulder guards made of three over lapping plates to allow for articulation and are followed by protection of both arms in a similar fashion to the legs. However, there is a large hole in the plate armour around the pit of the elbow, indeed this gap is so large as to halve the size of the plates protecting what would be considered the inside of the arm. Finely crafted gauntlets protect only the back of the hands and are made of tiny plate after tiny plate to allow for grip and full movement, the palm of the hand is protected only by leather, this allows for good, firm grip on weapons, horse harnesses etc without turning the palm of the hand into a raw red mess after the inevitable wear and tear.
It should be pointed out that the edge of every surface of his plate armour is lined with a small decorative band of polished gold add to this the fact that every inch of all his armour is polished to a mirror shine and you are met with a bizarre and almost otherworldly appearance. Pray he is never reflecting the sun or you will get dazzled with an effect akin to snow blindness. Over this brilliantly polished armour he wears a tabard displaying what was his old coat of arms in life that he now point blank insists upon wearing. This coat of arms is a plain white back ground with a heraldic style red eagle spreading it’s wings above its head. The eyes, claws and beak all of which are blue as well as lines on the inside’s of its wings where the bones would run.
Personality If forced to describe the man’s personality in one sentence it would be that he was a man desperately trying to regain pride and prestige once lost, and who hates to admit the fact he ever lost it in the first place. This phenomenon always existed in him during his time as a hollow, especially when one of the lower orders but it was thrown into sharp relief after he began exploring the man he had once been and he is left with the burning desire to be that once again. To the extent where he makes his own underlings or followers refer to him as Marshal or even grand Marshal. A title he should have lost hundreds of years ago upon his death, furthermore he clings to his old coat of arms once he had regained the knowledge of just what it was. Despite this however, he is not some sad shell of a man, mopping desperately over glories lost. Instead he has resolved to be true to himself and gain glories anew and be every inch the man he once was, even in private life.
His personality can be split into two major categories, his thinking in battle and his thinking out of it. When in battle he has only one consideration and that is to win. No matter what tricks he has to use, no matter what rule he has to break no matter how many weaker foes he has to crush beneath his heal he will do it and do it all with a strange, focused malevolent intent that takes all the advantages of being blood drunk but couples them with the rational thinking of a calm mind, a dangerous combination indeed. Part of the noble flower of France in life he was always in the first wave of any attack, despite the fact he was often commanding the entire army as well. Not only does he lead from the front but he often purposefully puts himself in a position where it is hard to retreat. This is to show those around him that he has put his personal welfare in the hands of the outcome of the battle and thus he believes he can win. In life this always encouraged the soldiers and knights around him to fight harder and never run and he applies the same principles in death. He however, is not without honour. Though he may stoop to anything in order to win a fight once he has won it he continues to act like a nobleman. Unless the opponent fights to the bitter end he will take the enemy prisoner and ransom the opponent back, furthermore he would not keep the captured man in a cell but rather look after him in a manner fighting with the prisoners station. This principle however, is hard to apply as a hollow. Thus he will either kill or consume those who fight him to the last or whom he cannot afford to let live, release the weaker ones who surrender and those who give him a decent fight but yield to him in the end he will invite into his own ranks provided it is safe to do so. This principle however, only applies to hollows. In life the heathen non believer was shown no mercy and always executed, this has warped in death to mean all non hollows must be regarded as heathen and butchered without mercy.
When not in a fight he can be surprisingly charming, though he carries himself with a posture and air of confidence suitable to one of the most respected men in France when in personal conversation he is polite and gracious. Furthermore, though polite he tends to talk straight and plain to the men but will often switch to a more elegant prose style when engaging with women. Using many more metaphors and abstract concepts as well as small little poems and generally treating each one of them as their own, individual precious flower. This has often put him into a quandary when he has been forced to fight them but in that circumstance he makes them an honorary man for the length of the fight. The reasoning behind this sudden shift in tone is because not only was the French court the birth of the concept of courtly love and chivalry Jean was its father in life, even going so far as to set up a knightly order based on chivalry and courtly love and this element of his personality has, as have many others, been carried over though he does not cling to it is fervently as he does his old martial glories.
However, the word courtly runs through this principle right to it’s very core. Those who are not part of the court, that is to say those who are not noble, he treats like filth. Though he will not abuse them as soon as he seems them, he will ignore them, show no consideration for their welfare, order them to their deaths. Conversely to this he is doggedly loyal to the ruling elite and will obey their every whim no matter how idiotic or stupid their decisions, though he may try to talk them out of their misguided efforts once their mind is made up however he will obey and even give his life in the vein attempt. Since his attachment to Las Noches this has meant he obeys royalty unflinchingly, he finds this a pleasing return to what he once was.
History: His history at least his history in life was, and is again, his all. The son of Jean le Maingre he was given the exact same name as his father. And much like his father would go on to lead a distinguished military career and become the marshal of France. He started his military career at age twelve as a page to Louis the second of Bourbon, a noble start to one of the noblest careers of pre revolutionary France. He followed Louis the second in the campaign against Normandy, though as a mere page he saw little of battle itself he was there before and after the battle and saw many fresh men ride into battle and saw few return, bloody and grimy with the effort of battle. It left a lasting impression but he was not scared by it, nor did he become disillusioned, rather he realised how determined, how ruthlessly you had to fight even to survive, let alone win. This realisation became useful a mere four years later when he was knighted on the eve of the battle Roosebeke by his master and then pushed into the fray the next day. He formed the vanguard of the initially unsuccessful French attack and had to be dragged from the field by his comrades not because he was injured but rather because he refused to retreat and just kept on swinging his then weapon of choice, a great double handed sword. Once the rebels rear began to collapse after a heavy cavalry charge Jean went in again with the second infantry attack right at the front, blood and grime still on him from the first attack. This time they broke the enemy, cleaving them apart and putting down the rebellious dogs.
Not much longer he embarked upon one of his more successful campaigns alongside the Teutonic order against the heathen Lithuanians to force them to convert to Catholicism. After this successful endeavours he embarked upon many lesser campaigns, all of which he performed in notably fighting the Moors in Spain and subjugating Toluse into France he once again fought alongside his old master Louis the second of Bourbon this time pushing into Spain once again which had become a new stage for the hundred years war. Here he preformed notably and although he was born into a sub branch of the Royal family here, when he saved his masters life he started his rise from a good, solid campaigning soldier to a household name. He continued his impressive military campaigning across the Balknlans, the near east and the holy land embarking upon several crusades, one of which he was captured upon but eventually ransomed back to France, as bad as this may seem it was not an uncommon occurrence. But it was his work in Prussia that gained him the esteemed title of Marshal of France. In 1390 there was a temporary peace with England which allowed him to engage in numerous jousts in which he widely proved himself to be the best tournament fighter alive in all forms of allowed combat but more importantly he was able to spend time at court. Though he never had children he did marry and was widely regarded to be a truly devoted and doting husband and whilst other treated their wives as an extension of their property Jean was one of the first truly chivalrous nights and treated the woman second only to his king. It was at around this time that he began to form notions of courtly love and true chivalry. Though he would go on to fight several major campaigns across Europe and beyond this notion never left him and in 1409 he set up an order based on these romantic principles. He embarked upon campaigns across Genoa and Cyprus bringing more regions under French control until those fateful last few days before what would be his last battle.
The beginning of the end for this man came at the battle of Agincourt in 1415. Despite his successes across the Mediterranean, eastern Europe, Spain and the Holy Lands his advice not to fight the battle and instead lure the English further into France to stretch their lines to the point of snapping, the less experienced royal princes, Jean’s superiors by birth, insisted on fighting due to their superior numbers.Unfortunately the slope, woods on either side and mud was the French armies undoing on that bloody field and the English arrows did them no favours either. By the time they reached then English line they were a tired, worn out mess, Jean was tired himself but along with his vanguard of handpicked knights he protected the symbol of the might of France, the oriflamme, but alas it fell, and was captured as was he. The fall of that banner was a symbol of the defeat of France and it was the end of Jean’s career. He was swiftly dragged off the field and taken prisoner. His station demanded he be treated with all the luxury of a duke. He was kept in secure comfort for six years but it ground his mind down slowly, because before, before he knew he would get out and fight for his king another day, maybe even return to court and eventually have children with his loving wife, but no, he knew the English would never, ever let him out. He was too dangerous, he was too good. If the royals had listened to him the French could have won the campaign and the legend that is now Henry the fifth could have been turned into a sub note of history. So although there was a comfortable bed for him to lie on, good food to eat and books to read, even conversations with the English king from time to time the aging man seemed to age that much faster and wither away over six long years until his eventual death in English captivity.
Now at first he did not realise he was dead. He could not normally leave the room in which he was imprisoned and something akin to shock prevented him from realising the fact he was looking at his own body lying comfortably on his bed. He only tagged that something was wrong when he began to notice the chain weighing him down and upon noticing this he at once grabbed the wrong end of the stick. He believed this to be some form of imprisonment even though he was dead, which he had worked out by this point. Then of course, being a religious man he thought the only people that would try to stop his soul ascending into heaven would be the agents of the devil no matter what their guises. This was, as it would turn out, a horribly misguided notion. But how was he to know? So he drew up a hasty plan, he theorised that eventually his new jailors would have to arrive and then, at that juncture he would garrotte the man with his own bonds. Of course a shinigami eventually arrived to send him to the soul society but all Jean saw was a man in outlandish clothing with a sword and the crusades had taught him to kill people like that and this person was dressed even more outlandishly than any of them so he burst into a desperate frenzy not waiting for explanation or calming words. The shinigami put up a fight, as you would expect from a trained warrior but was reluctant to cut at the chain of fate, Jean’s primary weapon, plus the shinigami was unseated, fresh, green. No match for a half insane, desperate Jean. Forcing the man to the ground with sheer effort, head butting the shinigami time after time to stun the man whilst using his own chain of fate to strangle the startled shinigami Jean secured victory. Unfortunately for him this did two things, firstly it started the rapid degradation of his chain of fate and secondly, having killed a shinigami it drew attention to him and would get him hunted down.
However, now he was free, or so he thought. He rapidly ran into the streets of London, of course no patch on what they are today, and there decided to hide inside the hustle and bustle of mankind. However, he swiftly learned that the outlandishly dressed men with the swords were not all you had to worry about, if he had thought them the devils workers in disguises then some of the bizarre monstrosities he saw had to be some of Satan’s chosen, these creatures were of course hollows and little did he know it but he was soon to join their number. He even saw a few of his own kind on the crowded city streets and by that I mean souls not yet having undergone any form of transformation or processing. After several days of hiding and desperately running though the filth incrusted streets of London he needed to eat, he was hungry, his stomach hurt and it hurt badly. He had not eaten in days and this hunger was like a plague, no illness he had ever had came close to this. He had tried stealing food off of peoples tables, scoffing anything he could find. But nothing worked, nothing and the pain in his gut just got greater and greater. It was all consuming, his vision got blurry and his head hurt so much. He could hardly keep conscious and he did not notice the degradation of his chain of fate. His head seemed to collapse in on itself and he feel to his knees, his brain seemed to shut down in its entirety and he passed out of his current form of consciousness.
When he awoke he was driven to consume and ravage indiscriminately, with no concern for any long term goals or repercussions all he knew was that if he did not eat it hurt so very badly. But it hurt to eat as well, but in a different way, the more he ate, the further he descended into what he had become, the more he forgot of what he once had been, the more he lost grip on his personality and his past, slipping away bit by bit. To the point where he even forgot his own name and instead went by the name he was sometimes known by in life, Boucicault. Even then he rarely went by that since lower level hollows, twisted monstrosities that they are, tended not to bother with names and were instead dedicated to ripping one another to shreds as well as any passing spirit they happened across. This set of affairs continued for many years, with the more cunning or brutal surviving and the lesser beings being crushed. By now he had forgotten almost all semblance of his former self but the next great change came with the great plague of London in 1665. Over time he had been growing in power and capability but the change was so gradual he had barely noticed it, however, the rapid upturn in the death rate provided a positive buffet for him and his kind, he, and a few select others who had managed to clamber to the top of the local tree had it almost all to themselves. Now the shinigami had been sending teams to London for centuries, they had to and a few people had been sent of Jean himself but now the plague had made the situation get out of hand and a larger detachment of shinigami were sent in to nip this potentially serious problem in the bud. The resulting battle sent sword and spell alike hurtling off in all directions. This combat caused the great fire of London, 1666 which has often been credited as an accidental plague cure. Furthermore many people believe the fire to have started in pudding lane and this it did. What few people know was that it was a stray kido that was the fatal spark but that is only a side point. What mattered was the fact that in the fiery chaos that ensued Jean, along with two of the other dominant hollows of London, managed to escape. But they did not escape to the surrounding country as they would have previously, no, one of his old rivals, now turned colleague in a moment of desperate mutual need, had secretly been traversing to Hueco Mundo for some time and it was to this sandy refuge that he was now taken. Unfortunately his blood drunk attitude had him screaming to get back into the fray, his more sensible colleagues forbad him and closed the portal whilst holding him back. Jean, however, is not a man to be restrained and promptly set about tearing apart and consuming the chief culprit whilst the others ran for their lives. But unfortunately in consuming the man he trapped himself in this sandy, blasted realm. This however, proved to be a blessing in disguise for the man.
It was a blessing because here he would be able to feast upon hollows of such number and magnitude so as to vastly increase his power, a power which had recently received a major kick start from the great plague. As he embarked upon a slaughter across the sands he hardly noticed his body shifting and changing but those around him often commented on his armoured carapace oozing with a strange foam, not all too dissimilar to an armadillo’s though with a better protected belly since he walked upright. Furthermore it was around about now that he became aware of the peculiar ranking unique to hollow society and furthermore he became aware of the fact that he was a menos, though within that he knew little. What he did notice however, much to his concern, was that despite the greater nature of his conquests he seemed to become smaller and smaller, heading back to human size. He had allways associated size with strength and he was worried that he was losing power. This however, could not be further from the truth, furthermore he was regaining his mind. Though his past memories eluded him his personality was returning to him, ideas of brutal battle and chivalric court drifted slowly back into his mind. He found himself taking noble mercy upon those who surrendered to him but always lusting for the next, grand victory forcing him to seek out greater and greater foes and when they did not yield as the honour of personal combat allowed them he would consume them.
He then encountered a hollow named Roye, who by a bizarre coincidence had once been one of Jean’s most stalwart companions in his Balkan campaigns. Though neither recognised the other since they were but shameful reflections of what they once were with no actual memory of their past lives but they did feel strangely drawn to one another and though they fought upon their meeting Roye yielded within all the boundaries of chivalry and Jean took him within his care. As the two journeyed together across the sands they came out with all sorts of odd conversational slips such as “I suppose you would not care for that.” Or “This is not at all like you.” Without having any reason for knowing those elements of the others personality or behaviour and such slips would always be followed by awkward silences and even more awkward looks. However, enough of this and they decided that there were simply too many coincidences. Thus Roye, Jean’s colleague, who had happened upon the ability to forge portals between this world and the living word and realising thier names were French, brought the pair back into what was then early twentieth century France, just before the outbreak of the first world war. They prowled the lands high and low searching for clues about one another until Jean happened upon Ryo’s grave in Toulouse. This bore a full name and dates, with hard facts to go on the pair pored through historical records, Ryo learning more of his exploits and the pair making a guess to Jean’s identity. The breakthrough came when the name Boucicault, the name Jean was known by as a hollow, came up. From this they were able to establish Jean’s true identity and the sheer glorious marvels of Jean’s exploits. At first the effect was devastating, though Jean remembered nothing of his feelings or sensations, knew nothing first hand, he knew with total certainty that the man described in these pages was him and that he had been once so great and fine, now reduced to some deformed, half insane monster which he himself had once thought of as the soldiers of Satan. He seemed to become a broken man, taunted by glories lost. However, in time he took strength from the knowledge. He had been one of the true greats and he would be again, he would, literally, be true to himself. He would uphold his own legacy and forge a career in the world of the hollows to rival his own in the service of France and the church. He took note of his old, resplendent coat of arms and decided to carry this on as his badge, a symbol of the continuity from greatness to greatness.
Returning to the barren wastes of the hollow realm he travelled up and down, seeking to unite strong and worthy hollows beneath his banner but few were interested in the ravings of a man obsessed with a bizarre mixture of brutality and chivalry. During these futile wanderings he learned from Roye some of the finer points of being a hollow and Roye, ever the more cerebral of the pair taught Jean numerous hollow tricks and techniques to compliment his brute strength. However, these days were doomed to come to a close and this they did when the duo was ambushed in a cowardly move. Jean was sleeping whilst Roye stood guard over his master. Roye head much mumbeling and whispers about some idiotic Vasto Lorde, which apparently Jean had become, who rather than subjugating the lower hollows was instead inviting them to join him, well anyone from menos grade upwards. He thought of them as the lowest rung of nobility and thus worthy of some respect, anyone beneath that was a mere peasant not fit to wipe the mud from his boots, they had no opinion that mattered. However, a large gaggle of menos of all grades had come together to pick apart the apparently stupid Vasto Lorde and feast upon him as something of a short cut to evolution. Roye went to investigate a noise but was alas caught unaware from behind, though he put up a fierce fight, taking down several of the aggressors he was inevitably overwhelmed. This however, gave time for Jean to stir, ready himself and rush into the fray, fighting like a mad man to reclaim his fallen comrade and though Jean slew many a foe and drove away the rest it was alas too late for his great colleague whom Jean now believed to be fallen, never to rise again, in any form or any place. Roye had offered no surrender to the aggressor in the protection of his master and thus his death was justified but Jean was so overcome with anger and grief he threw his chivalrous principles out of the window one last time and embarked upon a hunt across the barren sands, tracking down and consuming those few who escaped the initial fight. At the end of this ferocious effort he was left with two things, an emptiness of purpose and enough power to advance to the next stage. But what was the point? There was no one left, no court, no France, no one who respected his ideals, no wars to fight just an endless, pitiful struggle with no direction, no focus.
However, a short time later word reached him of a great fortress, known as Las Noches but far more importantly it held an organisation akin to a knightly order, it had armies at its command and joy of joys a royal family, just like the one he had given himself to all those hundreds of years ago. There was a slight snag however, his mask. Apparently to penetrate the upper echelons of the outfit he had to tear the mask from his face, a simple enough task on the face of things but apparently a process only the hardiest could survive. None the less he would not accept anything under the upper most echelons of the group as his mind and past demanded. So, unflinchingly he ceased it by the top in both hands and tugged hard, so very hard, he tugged, tore and ripped again and again. It was as though he were tearing his own face away, which he was in a sense. But tear at it he did and after much wailing and gnashing of teeth he tore the bulk of it off and tossed it away in a final great defiant wail. He threw his hands to his face and touched flesh, flesh he had not felt for centuries, he had undergone more radical changes, his carapace was gone, replaced by a great suit of half plate that seemed as part of him as anything. So ready, and fit for duty in the royal courts at last he marched for Las Noches, and to his new master.
Abilities (pre resurrecction )
reparaciones de emergencia (emergency repairs) His foremost pre resurrection ability is the ability to mend his protective shell of armour, though this ability does not extended to his flesh nor does it apply if entire plates of armour are removed or destroyed, they would have to be recovered or replaced before repair. Dents in his armour flatten back out and tears seal to recomplete protective layers. The tears in his armour cannot be sealed for at least ten seconds after it is torn open and any attacks which stunt reiatsu flow will extend this time period, furthermore he has to channel a good deal of his own power into this ability meaning that whilst armour is repaired higher lever abilities are off limits or made considerably weaker however the strength in his arm, as it were, does not suffer. On top of this if the same point is attacked again within the re growth period and with enough force to damage armour were it complete, progress is halted and a further ten seconds have to be waited before the healing resumes
reserve el arma (reserve weapon) If for whatever reason he is deprived of his main weapon, most likely because it will be knocked out of his hand he can summon a reserve weapon, the size of a short sword it is not as powerful as his main weapon, it possess no special abilities, does not have the same cutting abilities. It is just a simple sword and though it can go to blade to blade with most opponents weapons it is purely an emergency measure to give him a fighting chance at a retreat or recover his zanpakuto. Furthermore he can only summon it for short periods, no more than two minutes before it flickers and fades when he will then be forced to fight with his bare hands.
Additional Info:
As hinted at in the above ability description his armour is far more important than mere decoration but I feel it would be more appropriate to discuss it in hollow techniques latter in the profile.
Zanpakuto
General:
Appearance: Well the first thing anyone is going to notice is that unlike most other zanpakutos this weapon does not take the form of a sword or other traditional blades rather this man wields a late model halberd. This weapon is as tall as he is and the vast majority of the weapon is the wooden staff griped in both hands. The staff has metal sheets roughly two fingers wide running down from the head of the weapon, right down the pole to the bottom, and though wood can be seen between the four sheets, one on each side of the pole, it is impossible to chop at like you would a tree. This means that the core of the weapon is light but the sheets mean the staff can take a zanpakuto blow and not be chopped in half. The sheets come together in what is in effect a small pommel at the bottom of the staff to guard against wear and tear as it inevitably drags on the ground gets bashed about. The business end of the weapon is of course the head. Imagine the staff were a spear or small pike. However elongate the head of the spear to be approximately the length of the average forearm but no wider than a spear head, also make the spearhead conical so it is easier to withdraw and insert and slightly less likely to snag. Where the spear head meets the staff add an axe blade in the position that you would normally put an axe, protruding from the side of the staff at the very top. On the reverse side of the staff from the axe blade put a small hammer, which ironically looks more like a very small anvil flipped onto its side. This is designed to be a blunt weapon used to shock and stun and was purposefully designed to bypass armour. Although this cannot create cuts and scrapes the shock waves sent by the impact are capable of stunning, knocking back of even breaking bones without ever tearing a hole in protective layers or skin but in order to break a bone with this hammer you would have to land a far more forceful blow than you have to in order to create a cut with a sharp part on open skin. To add another level of complexity to this weapon at the bottom of this little hammer is a small, very sharp, very strong hook. It looks savage but too small to do anything
that serious, it’s primary purpose is to hook into the flaps in armour or protective casings, the little gaps, overlaps and nucks. He then rips back or generally prizes the armour off like opening a tin can thus opening up a vulnerable patch to attack. The metal of the weapon is a shiny silver colour like the majority of his armour and seems to not only reflect but magnify the brightness of the sun.
Note: In case my description seemed a little vague or confusing I have included a picture of a early period halberd, the only one I could get, Though it is not a strict reflection of the weapon it should help understand the arrangement of the three arms.
www.realmcollections.com/images/p/Halberds_European_Knights_Halberd_2612_124.jpg
Resurrecctión
Armor/ Appearance:His weapon is what changes most noticeably, whatever part of the weapon he is gripping with his right hand turns into a normal, one handed sword grip, where you would expect to find the pommel of the weapon you instead fine a smaller scale model of the halberd head, the axe blade for instance is now no larger than from the base of the palm of your hand to the first knuckle and of course the head has been inverted so the point which would have once met the staff would now meet the bottom of your clenched fist and the spear point faces towards the ground. There is then a conventional long sword blade protruding in the normal manner from the grip. The grip itself is made of bright red silk, threaded with gold lace in a spiral pattern. On the grip, usually obscured by the hand griping the weapon are two small buttons, one at the top, one at the bottom, more on those latter.
The second thing anyone is going to notice is the spawning of a shield, held by the left hand and also secured by leather straps to the forearm it can be thrown away by a firm action but is highly unlikely to be knocked away by the efforts of the enemy. The shield seems to grow out of the cracks in the armour and is a solid white substance similar to that of much of the armoured skin hollows are so often covered in. The shield is of classic chivalric period design In that it is broad enough to cover from slightly beyond the left shoulder all the way across the chest and tall enough to go from shoulder to elbow twice over. The upper half has straight sides leading downwards but from the half way point on the ends tapper gently to meet in the middle at a point. Furthermore it should be pointed out that this shield is not flat, rather it curves gently on the left and right sides with the middle being the most protrusive point. If you are having difficulty imagining this place you hand in front of you with the palm facing you and then curve slightly so as the begin to point in your direction and you will have a rough idea of the curvature of the shield, the point of this is to deflect incoming blows and slide them off to the side. This shield is as tough as his breastplate and underlying layers combined
Thirdly a white substance resembling Polly filler seems to spring fourth and fill all the gaps in his armour which had previously been left unprotected or merely covered by chainmail The outermost layer of this substance rapidly solidifies and toughens up like leather but like skin is still governed by the movements of the muscles beneath, the layers beneath are still semi liquid and allow free movement given his strentgh. This provided these vulnerable spots with much greater protection as the leathery outer surface is as tough as his plate armour but its suppleness does not restrict movement. This substance is in fact present everywhere on his body, aside from the face, but is only visible where it has seeped through the holes in the chainmail or outright gaps in these defences. This means that attacking the sections covered by plate you will have to get through an obstacle twice as tough as it once was. This means that the areas where the pollyfiller like substanceare visible are still the weakest points. It should also be noted that this substance, just like chainmail, is more susceptible to thrusting rather than slashing attacks but still, you cannot expect thrusting attacks to break through on the first attempt but they will work more quickly than other forms of assault. The semi liquid layers beneath act as another form of shock absorption making it all the more difficult to stun or break Jean’s bones with blunt instruments.
Many people will not see his mask since by this point he will always have his visor down, after all he will be in a rather desperate fight. None the less his mask will expand to cover his mouth and in place leave breathing holes similar to those on his helmet The points of three downward facing red triangles can just be seen spaced evenly across what was once his mouth, they have a green outer edge and the way they are suddenly cut off at the top of what remains of his mask indicate the design once carried on up across his face, only he now knows what once lay there.
Abilities: expresar las reparaciones de emergencia (Express Emergency repairs)This is an improvement of the above, similarly named ability, repair time is now halved to five seconds, similarly all outside delaying effects are also halved. All forms of his protection can be regenerated and now even if entire plates of armour are removed they can be reproduced by growing out of the white, pollyfiller like substance. It should be stressed that regenerating entire plates will prevent him from using any other techniques though the strength in his arm still does not wane. Furthermore, rather than the above five seconds regenerating plates will take the previous ten seconds. Just as with before any blows to the same point will stall the clock but the stall time is once again halved.
frenesí sangriento (bloody frenzy)This ability is simply a burst akin to a berserkers’ rage. Though his grit, strength and determination have always been notable now they are increased many times. The strength in his arm is vastly increased smashing through, blocks, guards, many armours and all sorts of defences. With this he also starts attacking faster and can get twice as many swings to the second as he once had though it should be noted he is still far from the most speedy fighter. Thirdly his wound bearing capacity shoots up, though his armour regeneration, ability to withstand blood loss and so forth is still the same his adrenalin is as such that he no longer really feels pain, often he will not even notice he is wounded. He simply does not care that he is hurt and so long as he is physically capable of moving in the realms of outside probability he will be able to move freely
There are however, two drawbacks to this state, firstly he is now incapable of telling friend from foe. Anything that moves is a target and he will as likely attack a random civilian as he will his duelling partner so it is wise to back off though he will hone in on his opponent as much as he can. Secondly, in order to keep up the frenzy he has to keep moving, left right, forward, back it does not matter but once he stops he calms down and falls out of the frenzy. The slight acceptation to this rule is if he is pinned in one spot by an enemy then, so long as he tries to move the frenzy will continue but twenty to thirty seconds of being restrained will force him to drop out of the frenzy. Because his codes of chivalry and conduct fly out of the window when in this rage, after all he will take no mercy, he is loath to use it and will only do so once the situation becomes truly desperate. There is also a maximum time limit on this even if he can keep moving. This limit is ten minutes. After this period he will be considerably drained, barely able to stand. All he could do is stagger off of the battlefield and rest. Though the trifling attacks of many opponents still cannot by pass his armour he no longer has the energy to fight back and thus must withdraw.
Vanguardia (cutting edge) The principle behind this is very simple, his weapons edges have simply become keener, they could cut through what they previously could not cut though the hardiest of defences will still be able to withstand the blows, though it should be noted for a shorter period of time. Similarly the shock of blunt impacts is also increased. Linked with this are the two buttons on the grip of the zanpakuto, pressing the top one extends the length of the longsword blade anything up to six feet, pressing the button again will cause it to retract to previous size and the blade can be stopped at any midway point. Pressing the lower button makes the grip it self larger, effectively allowing Jean to flip his grip and use the weapon much like he had been using the halberd previously, though of course the dimensions are now smaller. The grip can extended to a maximum of four feet making it’s maximum length smaller than that of the old staff by two feet.
