Name- Sori Sensai
Nickname- The Artist (currently), The Lost (formerly), The Executioner
(formerly)
Birthday- not known
Dominant Hand- Ambidextrous
Age- 20
Gender- Male
Origin- Eridake
Height- 6’0”
Weight- 175 lbs
Race- Ainoko
Personality- Sori is a rotten and foul creature at times. If angered he can
and will kick some a**. He is not easily angered though. He can be a very
gentle being, preferring to be nice rather than cruel. The Ainoko is never
one to fuss about someone’s behavior and as such he does not care to dwell
on someone’s bad attitude. He would rather forgive and forget.

His kind nature has earned him the respect of those who have seen him
fight and lived to tell the tale. He is a merciful warrior, gaining the
nickname the artist for his craftsmanship to injure and not kill even with
magic.
Appearance- Sori is clad in pitch black robes, tied to his back is a black
cloak. His muscles are formed on his upper body, showing even through the
baggy robes. His arms have been worked on for a number of years, put through
vigorous exercises. He never lets himself be lazy.

His lower body is small, not worked on as much but still muscular. He
never tried to make himself stronger for he never felt the need to. His legs
can carry him if in a full sprint, but the need never rises. His fighting
skills almost unmatched, he never has the use to run. When he kicks, it does
not make much of an impact due to the weakness.
Alignment- Neutral
Profession- None
Weapon- Death’s Grip-
A long and curved sword. The sides are cut extremely sharp,
so a slice with it will cause pain. On his back is also the sheath, made of
metal. It can block a sword or in the rare event that Sori needs it, he can
hook the sheath to the handle of his sword and use it like a staff.
Magic-
History-
Sori was born to a rich family, one of the wealthiest around.
They could buy him anything they wanted, even happiness if he so desired.
The problem with this was, they would spoil him, never letting him cry or go
unhappy. When he was 4, he was locked up in his room, never given the chance
to be unhappy or angry.

His parents paid for whatever food he wanted or anything he so desired.
They decided that he should never have to feel sorrow, never have to feel
pain, never have to feel loss. The realization that one day they would be
gone was one they prepared against. They decided to pay to try and get
cloning done, though no doctor around would do this. No one would touch
cloning, fearing the governments and the normal public’s reactions.

With this failure on their mind, they built androids, ready to pretend to
be them. This as well backfired, as the father was not as mechanically
inclined as he thought. The droids attacked, killing his parents when he was
only five. Without being able to get out of his room, the servants continued
to serve him, using his parents money to buy him whatever he desired.

The androids had been locked away in the parent’s room, a trap sprung by
the servants kept them locked for nearly ten years. They had no chance to
escape, no chance to cause pain, no chance to do anything but dwell in a
room, all alone. Androids could feel no anger, feel no pain so they did not
care.

Ten years after the death of his parents, Sori was as happy as ever. The
androids had finally broke out of the room. To his surprise, they even made
their way into Sori’s room. Unluckily for the androids, Sori had once asked
for a sword. He had trained with some of the servants and become rather
good. With his trusted sword, he destroyed the droids in two moves, one for
each.

Finally free, he set out in the world, keeping his parents wealth stored
away for later use. During his travels he came across a girl who was very
upset. Her mother had been killed by rogue bandits, two knives stuck in each
of their chests. They were then hung, inside the house, blood pouring down
their bodies for the girl to see when she returned home.

As he figured this out, he saw a tear come down her face. Frightened, his
mind instantly assumed it was a disease, or she was dying. He tried to help
her, only to realize what pain was, for the first time, he cried over his
own parents.

As he started to travel, he began to find Rogue bandits, even the ones the
girl had described. He killed off any bandits that crossed him. This was
when he gained the nicknamed the Executioner. As he felt everyone's death
make him stronger, he became afraid, he did not want everyone’s death on his
shoulders.

His travel for the next few years made him lost, unaware of where he was.
He cared not to ask, but always lived off the land and lived for each moment
in time. He always looked as if he was not at home and not happy. He was
never aware of where he was, or even at times, unsure of who he was.

During the next year, he gained the name, The Lost. He cared not who he
was anymore. He had learned some magic in his travel and decided that
androids were an abomination. He wanted them no more, wanted their death’s
to come forth.

His next two years were spent killing any androids he came across, He
gained the name the Artist for his use of magic, liking this name, he stuck
with it. He never killed any androids that were good, any that were evil
were killed on the spot. Some that crossed his path, be it good or evil,
were struck down with his staff blade, the sword connected with the sheath.

His upper body reflected the constant fighting, showing his upper body
strength brought some to their knees, he was small, but he had muscles. His
upper body strength gave him enough to punch a droid down in one punch.
Soon, he lost this strength, as he focused on speed in attacks more. That
was the only way he would win, his muscles stayed as big, but he lost a lot
of his physical power. His speed picked up and as such, he became one to be
reckoned with in battle.

Now Sori wanders the planet, not caring for anyone but himself. He does
not give a crap about anyone but himself at this moment. He has never felt
love and does not care to.