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Name: Yaksha Dokuja
Alias: Anthropophagus, Serpent, Forktongue
Age: 1500
Age of Appearance: N/A
Gender: Male
Race/Species:Hollow, Serpentine
Character Alignment:Neutral

Appearance: Yaksha has a bipedal form, though he still seems to bring to mind a reptile that has learned to walk on two legs. His face is elongated, forming an almost rounded snout, and his body is very thin and lithe for his size. His mask, if someone were to get close enough to inspect it, would almost have an appearance of overlapping scales. His tongue is long and forked, able to reach several feet away from himself. He also has a tail, four feet long and flexible enough to serve as an additional limb. At a glance he appears quite muscular, and very powerful. He carries himself with a slight slouch, making it hard to tell just how tall he is much of the time.

His limbs are long and gangly, containing relatively small amounts of muscle relative to his torso and tail. They stretch out so far that he's known to have them drag along the ground when he's not paying close attention, and each hand ends in long claws that seem almost like dagger-tips. He rarely uses them aside from intimidation, and even then he prefers to show them rather than actually use them. There are the impression of overlapping scales on his arms as well, but the skin is entirely smooth and shows no sign of flaking or roughness.

Despite his appearance, Yaksha doesn't sound very primal at all. With his return to normal intellect, he has also rediscovered his old voice; a deep, rich tone that instantly puts others at ease, and almost makes it sound like he's a nobleman from a long time back. He frequently wears a thick brown cloak around himself, hiding everything but his face, to ensure that when he is spotted, he doesn't immediately cause a scene. Beneath the cloak, he's sometimes also known to wear poorly tailored suits, often when he's feeling particularly mischievous.

Yaksha's hair manifests itself as a long ponytail, bright green in color. It's held in place with what looks very much like a rubber band made of his own reishi. When he grows angry, his reishi can snap, causing his hair to fall around him, and even making it come to life, lashing around him like a multitudes of snakes.

Style/Clothing: As a hollow, Yaksha rarely bothers to wear much in the way of human clothing, though he sometimes finds it fanciful to wear tailored suits, often far too small for his frame.

Tattoo's/Scars/Etc: None.

Personality: Despite his seemingly unshakable appearance, Yaksha is actually a very insecure person; every smile and laugh is a lie, a way to try and get into the heads of others. All of Yaksha's power lies in misdirection and trickery; he can convince people of falsehoods, but he can do very little on his own.

He's also a very frail person physically, unable to take more than a few hits before he falls. He tends to overcome this by avoiding confrontations overall, and relying on trickery or dirty tactics when he's pulled into a fight, but if he's forced to fight fair he's almost always at a disadvantage.

Yaksha also has a bit of an identity crisis; after 500 years, he's found that many of the souls he's eaten don't simply go away. Whether it's a faint tidbit of a memory he can't remember getting, or a name that's always being repeated in his head, parts of every soul he's consumed live on through him, and share the space. It's getting pretty cramped in there.

Despite his dedication, and his determination, Yaksha is also a dramatic soul; he has an overwhelming desire to do things right, and to be remembered for what he does. He'll always choose to do things over the top and flamboyantly when he can, never settling to go un-recognized. He also strives to keep his own identity and whereabouts secret, creating an almost paradoxical desire to be famous and mysterious all at once.

Yaksha's also found that he has developed a temper of sorts, over the years. Any mention of God, or of persecution will quickly make him lose control; he claims that despite being a hollow, he is no better or worse than any other ghost, or even a shinigami. Though he strives to prove this, and works hard to overcome his more bestial nature, he still finds himself backsliding at times. A surefire way to see Yaksha's worst side is to imply that his mere history, rather than his actions, are how he should be judged.

He also has a taste for the finer things in life, though he can't really enjoy them. Rather than simply eating hollows wholesale, he'll pour their bodily fluids into wineglasses, and drink from those. He can typically be tracked by finding the most upscale, most expensive place where humans gather, and waiting there for him to show up. Even dead, a man has to enjoy himself when he can.

Not to mention his sense of humor. Yaksha finds it hard to show a straight face around others, and all too often he'll find himself cracking a joke or making a reference to something he probably shouldn't. His tongue acts before his brain can think, but even worse is that if he thought he'd probably just say it in a more dramatic manner. Yaksha has serious issues being serious. Seriously.

Trust doesn't come easy to a man like Yaksha, and when it does he's not even sure what to do with it. While he wants with all of his heart to be trusted, he still can't trust himself and his own mind. He's seen the damage that delusion has wrought on the world, and he sees it as his duty to strip others of their illusions and their needless heuristics; no matter how badly it hurts, the world needs more people who will suck it up and look at the world with a critical mind. He's just not entirely sure he's one of them. While Yaksha will do everything in his power to make people trust him, once he has it he finds himself doing just about anything he can to push them away. While he believes everyone in the world would be better off if they just took his advice, he doesn't think they would..

(For Likes, Dislikes, Ambitions, etc, go for 1-3 sentences per point, more if you wish.)

Likes and Strengths:

The taste of aniseed. There's something infinitely comforting about it for someone like Yaksha, who has spent a large fraction of his life with little solace in this world besides certain foods. The flavor somehow manages to calm him down, even in the most tense of times.

Alcohol. Even as a human this was a great pleasure of his, something he simply couldn't resist turning to. Though he can't find it in himself to actually get drunk, he drinks no small amount.

Humans. Yaksha is quite fond of humans, finding more in common with them than most spirit beings. Yaksha wants little more than to live a simple, basic life where he left off. Barring that, he'll settle for simply being able to make a few good friends.

Climate control. What can be better than choosing your own temperature? Yaksha has nothing but love for the modern technology that allows him to hold such simple control over such an integral part of the world he lives in.

Conversations. While Yaksha himself has very narrow interests and often finds himself feigning interest or zoning in and out, the very act of hearing other people talk is something he wishes more of. There's never anything to discuss with the hollows or shinigami, so perhaps this more than anything else is why he spends so much time in the human world.

Cognitive Dissonance. One of the purest moments of joy in Yaksha's mind is the moment when a person's deeply held beliefs are challenged; whether it's by watching a person be faced with their own hypocrisy or having something you always believed in become discredited, Yaksha lives for the moment when he sees a person's world falling down around them. Perhaps more than anything else, this is why he refuses to move on. There's always someone in the world who needs a dose of harsh reality.


Dislikes, Fears and Weaknesses:

Being ignored. One thing Yaksha absolutely can't stand is being treated as if he is insignificant, or useless. He has an intimate understanding of what he can do, and refuses to be sold for less than he's worth.

Zealots. This ties in well with his previous dislike, in that zealots have a way of ignoring all that defies their belief. He has little time to spare for people who can't appreciate the value of dissenting opinions.

Extreme hot or cold. Yaksha is cold-blooded by nature, and even as a human he found himself with little serious defense against the elements. He works hard to hide himself off from the elements of the world, feeling one of the few comforts that he can't do without is protection from the harshness of the world.

Other hollows. Yaksha has no patience for other hollowbreeds, and even less for being treated as one. Yaksha sees himself as a very oddly-shaped human, and while he's willing to fight for his survival, he strives constantly to overcome his own flaws.

Charity. Yaksha believes that the worst thing you can do is treat anything, whether it's as simple as a piece of bread or a piece of information, as if it has no value; giving something away without asking anything in return is the same as spitting in the face of the one who gave it to you in his mind. If you're going to accept a trade of goods or services, to give away what you received without something of equivalent value is simply an insult that can't be overlooked.

Repetition. One of the most difficult things in the world for Yaksha is having to repeat himself, and it's one of the easiest ways to get him in a mood. When he says something, he expects it to spread and he expects it to be appreciated. His word carries weight, and if he finds out that someone didn't spread the word he'll likely have quite a lot to say next time he meets them.

Ambitions/Dreams/Goals:

To be recognized and renowned amongst the spirit world. Yaksha's life was a very disappointing one, often leaving him feeling as if he missed out on a remarkable chance to be treated seriously.  If there's one thing he wants more than any other, it's to prove that he is not defined by his race.

To become relevant once more.  Defined as many hollows are by an early, unpleasant death, he is nevertheless intelligent and capable enough to curb his desire for senseless violence and hatred.  He wants nothing more than to lend a few thoughtful words, to be recognized and understood in a way he never was in life.  To simply have a retinue of people who tolerate his presence is the closest the hollow could ever come to happiness.

To be ubiquitous.  No hollow is content to think small, or let meager things like reality or reason get in the way of their goals, and odd as Yaksha may be amongst hollows, he's no exception there.  He wants nothing more in life than to have his name and likeness plastered as loudly and prolifically as possible.  Yaksha wants to be a household name, to go where he pleases and see what he pleases.  A world where he moves like a true ghost among mortals, touching without ever being touched, being beyond and yet not outside.

Hollow Type: Adjuchas
Hollow Hole Location & Appearance: Yaksha's hollow hole is located on the back of his tongue, in a position that is very nearly impossible to notice if one doesn't see it fully extended.
Mask Appearance: Yaksha's mask resembles a stylized image of a snake mid-hiss, as one would expect to see on top of a cane or similar.  There is a rough texture to it, as of overlapping scales, and those who touch it for prolonged periods can actually feel small pieces flaking off.  When he's especially stressed or in the middle of combat, the shedding is actually visible, and very distressing to watch.

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List of 'Auto-Known' Skills:

Fighting Attribute: Reiryoku
Weakest Attribute: Strength
Fighting Style: Yaksha prefers not to fight at all, but when he does it's often a hectic, very flashy style that is more about appearances than actual substance.  He'll throw in countless feints and play mind games as frequently as he can, hoping to bridge the distance and land a fatal bite in a crucial moment.  His fighting is almost always reckless, though not in such a way that he doesn't prize his own self-defense; it's more accurate to say he prefers to attack in an unorthodox manner, and this sometimes includes taking a hit he shouldn't.

All in all, his fighting style is best summed up as utilizing as much trickery, psychology, and simple insanity to discourage combat as possible.  9 times out of 10, if Yaksha is pushed into a corner such that he can't avoid fighting any more, he has something far more than knocking out his opponent in mind as a win condition.

Personal Abilities:

Name: Gross Anatomy
Effect: Yaksha's body moves with a remarkable ease and elasticity, even amongst hollows; he often gives off the impression of not having bones at all, and he's able to place his body in a container no bigger than a bottle of soda, simply compressing it up incredibly tight.  He can even elongate and shrink limbs, reallocating body mass as one would with a doll.  While it serves little purpose in a real fight, save to keep his face out of the fray, his mobility makes him a remarkable asset in non-combat circumstances.

Name: Ophidian Overdose
Effect: It's no surprise to hear that hollows can inject their reaitsu into others, but Yaksha's ability goes above and beyond.  His leaking reaitsu has a tendency to focus in his mouth over all other places, making his bite toxic even to other spirit beings.  A bite from him can have effects remarkably similar to a hollow's acidic touch would on a normal human, although he can't perform it in quick succession just yet; his reaitsu needs time to release itself and cover the fangs again properly.

Technique Effect Chart:

*The effect chart is for damage, durability, or any other after effect of a technique. The damage/effect/etc will be based off of tiers.*

Opponent is Two+ Tiers Lower: Total paralysis if injected directly through bite. The target will often hallucinate wildly and find themselves nearly incapable of responding to the real world.
Opponent is One Tier Lower: Focal paralysis, making the limb unable to move for three posts. The target also finds themselves unable to focus on what's going on around themselves, being distracted by their heartbeat or breathing, which at this point is erratic and slow.
Opponent is Equal Tier: Sweating and difficulty breathing, as well as some loss of balance. At this point the target is irritable and a bit more prone to recklessness, but still very much capable of combat.
Opponent is One Tier Higher: An intense itching sensation, and a mild sound of ringing in the target's ears, often causing them to lose their train of thought if they're not prepared for the effect.
Opponent is Two+ Tiers Higher: No effect, aside from the bite itself.

General Techniques:


Technique Name:
Technique Description:(Include any cool-down or charge times needed. Times are based on posts.)

*The following applies only to Non-Arrancar Hollows, otherwise delete*

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Weapon Name: Flesh Render
Weapon Appearance: Yaksha's only real weapon is his remarkable fangs, capable of gathering and storing his reiryoku in a manner akin to a quincy's ginto tubes.  On their own they're not capable of much, but a direct hit from one almost always ends unpleasantly for his opponents.


Weapon Techniques:


Technique Name:
Technique Description:

Technique Effect Chart:

*The effect chart is for damage, durability, or any other after effect of a technique. The damage/effect/etc will be based off of tiers.*

Opponent is Two+ Tiers Lower:
Opponent is One Tier Lower:
Opponent is Equal Tier:
Opponent is One Tier Higher:
Opponent is Two+ Tiers Higher:

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History: Our wisdom flows so sweet.  Taste and see.

TRANSMIT - Initiate the Kubera Signal RECIEVE - Initiate the Jureichi Frequency - WHAT PROFIT A MAN IF HE GAIN HIS SOUL- Initiate the Faustian Protocol - WITNESS - The Outsider.

I have a story, sweetling.  Would you care to hear?  Of course you would.  Your kind likes stories.

A man was born. From his very birth, he was unnatural. He was a strange child, born in strange circumstances. He should never have existed, but the world is full of those things which should have been impossible. Still, if there's one thing the universe hates, it's an anomaly. Things that don't fit into the mold get broken until they do. Yaksha Dokuja was not always Yaksha Dokuja, but he always was.

His father was impotent, his mother distraught. Married off far too young, and to a man who could never give her what she wished for most; a beautiful child. Her husband treated her well, treated her with love and respect. He was a stonemason, good with his hands. He built her a home, and he always did everything he could to please her. The only thing he could not do was sire a child for her. It was also the only thing she resented him for.

Over the years resent turned into desperation, which turned into seething madness. She was a good, Christian woman...and she one day went quite mad. She went to an old place where none were meant to go, a place of so-called demons. The demon had once been a god, and had once been fed quite well. But that is another story. She came, and she prayed in the ways abhorrent to God. She said the words, she went through the routine. She was willing to do whatever it took to have a child to raise as her own.

The deal was struck. She was struck as well, by the appearance of the demon. They had spoken of cloven hooves and horns. Of smooth voices and exceptional masculinity. They had not spoken of white masks or enormous holes that one could fit a hand through. They had not spoken of the pain and the anguish in each word. They had not spoken of hunger. Of mind-wrenching hunger. They had told her she would have cravings when she was pregnant. They did not tell her what she would crave.

Her husband came home one day, but he was not her husband. His rough, calloused hands were not gentle this time. The man she lay down with was not her husband. But she let him; she knew the price that must be paid. She hoped he would never have to know what she had done. In a way, she was right. After that night, he never knew anything again. Her husband passed away moments after copulating with her. Everyone was baffled, but she was shocked beyond belief.

Months passed, and her cravings grew stranger. She ate primarily meat, and often meat that should by all accounts have made her exceptionally sick. She never grew sick. She had always been sick. She gave birth with no trouble, and with no assistance. The child came out like it had been made for it. And from the moment he was born she knew that she could never have what she wanted. Her child was born with skin all too fair, with hair as white as snow. With eyes the most disgusting shade of pink. He never cried, he never whined. He simply looked at her with curiosity.

She left him outside of the church, and she left without ever looking back. She was always the subject of many stories. Some said she killed her husband and was cursed by god. Some said she was a witch who returned to hell. None of them particularly matter. The child matters. He was raised by the Church, to be a god-fearing, church-attending child. He was raised to learn the skills of rhetoric and debate. He was raised to preach to a flock of new converts.

Do you know how hard it is to be an honest God-fearing man when you know the truth, Dear Reader?

He was always an odd child. He had little interest in god and in rhetoric. He had a great interest in the old fables and stories, of mythology wide and profound. He learned of the pagan rituals and the many names of demons. He spoke often of seeing the dead, of seeing black-clad angles and white-clad devils. He was a strange child, and the church shunned strangeness. He was given a life away from the public. A life in the catacombs of old scrolls. A librarian in a place no one wanted to visit.

There were myriad dead in that place, of all shapes and sizes. They were all quite intelligent, and they were all too eager to have someone who could finally be good conversation. Albus, as he had been known- the charming one who possessed no charm, who had never wanted it- was the only link the lingering dead had to their world. And he was always treated as the lowest of the low. Surrounded by brilliant minds, by people who felt themselves too great to fade, Albus sunk into his own illness. He became obsessive. He grew disillusioned, grew tired of hearing the same old stories...and one day he became part of a new one.

A white-clad devil came into the catacombs one night, sniffing for its latest prey. Yaksha was unaware of what to expect, but knew only that being this close to one of those majestic predators sent an electric shock through him. He wondered what it would take to meet one of these things. He began to follow it, his skill in stealth quite laughable. The demon's skill in noticing anything besides its prey even more so. It fled, sated enough for the time. Yaksha's hunger however was soon to become limitless.

He sought any reference to these things he could find. He spoke to every soul he could find, and discovered every detail possible. And he realized all too quickly what it would take to meet one in the flesh. He brought with him one of the eldest, most insufferable of souls. He hoped it would be willing to speak to him for as long as it took. Surprisingly, it took almost no time at all. The white-clad creature barreled into the catacombs, seeking another meal.

This one was not nearly as dim as the last, and realized almost immediately that there were two sets of eyes upon it. Two beings' attention. One was far more appetizing than the other...but far more interesting, as well. It wished to know more about this thing before him. This human who seemed to look at it with such delight...and who seemed to smell so familiar to it. One could dicker for years as to why the beast spared him, but the simple fact is that it did. Not without a scar...a remembrance. The beast burned his entire left cheek beyond recognition. Yaksha saw it as a badge of honor. He had held his first conversation with a hollow, and he had survived.

The problem with greed is that the greedy don't know when to stop. Yaksha studied for another decade, and did everything he could. Finally, he concocted a ritual, using the souls of every lingering being he could find for the bait. It took hours, but he finally succeeded; he drew to him one of the white-clad devils. And he struck a deal of his own. A deal for power and freedom, for a taste of what they could be like.

He followed in his father's footsteps, and this time the act was not nearly so benign. Yaksha rode passenger as he watched his body kill half a dozen people before he was subdued. He felt not even an iota of regret over his decision. Even as he was stoned to death, he smiled. And when his body arose, when he was stared down by the being who had given him this freedom, the being which demanded its payment...he still smiled.

He smiled even as he tore at the chain that connected him to the pitiful human body he had long ago forsaken. He smiled even as the hole ripped open, at a speed that never should've been possible. He smiled as rigor mortis took over, he smiled as the essence of his discarded heart overtook him. And he smiled as he loomed over his would-be creditor. He smiled even as the thing realized that it had been deprived of its easy meal.

It fought savagely, but in the end it simply couldn't subdue the beast. It was as if it had simply been waiting its entire life to become a hollow. It was as if it had been a hollow well before this moment. The fight was never even a fight. Albus died. Yaksha Dokuja lived. And the beast was all too excited to make use of the new opportunity it had been given. It scoured the world, it spread itself wide...and yet for several millenia, the world was simply too small. The souls too pitiful, too spread out. They could never sate his hunger, could never fill the void within him.

Time passes.  What is time to us?  We stand outside.  Yaksha frittered away centuries as an informant to any who would have him.  A few would-be kings of the vast hollow desert would arrive to strongarm the serpent into being their adviser.  One or two, into their shadowmaster.  The truly intelligent didn't attempt to force him at all.  There could be no good end for abrogating the will of a cannibal, for chaining a wild beast.  There could only be a worse end for tying one's fate to a being well known for betraying trust.

Kings rise, kingdoms persist.  In an infinite space, why shouldn't there be infinite kings?  And in an endless game of chess, what better piece to be than a pawn?  Relative to the life of an immortal, the lapse of judgment it takes for a pawn to ascend to queen is the blink of an eye.  And kings fall.  Yaksha Dokuja never wished to rule.  Kingdoms yet persist, their old bones plain for everyone to see.  And always, always, there is need for a wise man in a court of slavering buffoons.  And always always, the cycle continues.

It wasn't until the Renaissance that Yaksha could truly feed, and even then it was scant. He ate when he could, gorged when he felt the need. He spread himself across the world, learning as much of he could of the new and fascinating world. The world he wanted to be a part of. The world he had no intention of leaving. He met altogether too much competition, but he had grown good at running and better at lying. Albus had never found any need for rhetoric, but Yaksha Dokuja took to it like a fish to water.

He finally began to settle in to the land of the living.  Spiritually aware were no longer a mere pipe dream, no longer the exception to the rule.  The process, slow though it was, was perfected and sharpened as time went on.  Countless people of the time were illiterate, incompetent, and yet exceptionally good at taking orders.  And so the time of witches and warlocks came to be.  A time of those who spoke profanities against the world, and a time of veritable feast for a being such as Yaksha.  And yet moreso than the souls he consumed, the simple experience of being part of something was infinitely sweeter.  Finally a niche was found.

Mankind expands, the world shrinks.  Travel becomes a matter of hours rather than days.  And the humans grow more clever, their minds expanded as easily as their territory.  A man's grasp now exceeds his reach, and both far exceed the influence of a mere ghost of a man.  It was centuries ago that Yaksha's influence began its true waning, with those who do meet him finding him little more than a peculiarity, another ghost amongst countless others.  And so the angry dead grows angrier, goaded on by a potential eternity of neglect to look forward to.

Speechless mouths open wide in wordless shrieks, and no one listens.  Who cares for the mad ramblings of a monster, in a day and age when anyone can pluck out a million monsters from the fabric of history?  Now they exist outside of time, too.  Yaksha Dokuja is no longer a welcome presence.  No longer truly even a spectacle.  Now he is little more than a lingering memory, struggling to find relevance.

Rp Sample:

There were rumors, of course.  This was Karakura Town.  Look around you, and you can find a dozen, twelve dozen, a gross of grosses of rumors.  Perhaps nowhere more than Karakura Town, reality was malleable on a level that people hardly even realized.  The veil was thin, and the line between flights of fancy and acts of prescience were almost indistinguishable.  It would take anyone who was truly determined a lifetime, or perhaps even two, to sift through them all, to spend their lifetime panning through the primordial muck of mankind's collective unconscious, to find the rumors that truly held more than a tiny nugget of truth.  It would've taken a hundred years, perhaps even two hundred.

Yaksha Dokuja had fifteen hundred at his disposal.  Patiently, steadily, and with a sense of absolute purpose, the hollow had begun the arduous task of settling in amongst people, of flitting from here to there to here again just in time to catch the snippets of countless conversations, to connect all the dots and make something suitable to be called a map of the mindscape surrounding this place.  He could've told you about Hyakumonogatari, could've mentioned Gashadokuro-the irony was hardly lost on him that such a story existed-, could've given you the proper answer to thwart Aka Manto.  Yaksha Dokuja was a creature of stories, a being brimming overfull with the countless acts of creation that mankind had flexed over the centuries, the ever-so-gentle churning of a machine far greater than mere meat minds could comprehend.

And yet even he was incapable of even the smallest act of creation.  Yaksha Dokuja, filled with a billion billion stories, able to bring to his fingertips enough realities and counter-realities that it would leave a man dead and cold before he was exhausted, couldn't make a single one of his own.  He couldn't do any more than pluck the right phrase, the right words, from thin air, couldn't do much more than remember some esoteric little piece of drama...and plonk it down, like a miner bringing to light something precious formed by something they could hardly begin to fathom.

Today's particular story was about a shop.  A ramshackle old place, like any other.  One that most people would walk into and never find anything odd about.  The initiated didn't find it odd, either; in fact, they didn't find it at all, some said.  It found them.  Yaksha quite would've liked to find who had begun perpetuating -that- story, because here he stood in front of the very same shop, glancing at the door's sign.  It was, quite naturally, locked.  It was unnaturally made of sekkisekki stone, perhaps the only thing in the world he couldn't simply walk through.  But Yaksha Dokuja was no mere specter, he was a clever ghost.  He could've tried the door, certainly.  But even a fortress must leave room for air or water.

He circled the locale, before finally finding it; a sewage system, one nearby.  And a private one, at that, disconnected from the entire system of Karakura Town.  The area underneath likely would've been locked down just the same.  Any normal creature would've had to be the size of a rat, and be capable of breathing underwater, for it to find entrance through such a small causeway.  Luckily enough for him, Yaksha Dokuja had no need to breathe, and could find it in himself to be far smaller than a rat.  With a boneless, almost liquid ease, he seemed to ooze down into the cistern, clamoring his way back, tracking his way towards whatever he could find.  It took him some time, and it wasn't easy, but in the end the hollow did find a way inside.

A pale, multi-jointed white claw slid forth from the toilet bowl, looking almost the exact same color at a glance.  It pushed up the lid ever-so-gently, and was followed a moment later by an almost flaking mask, and a length of whiteness that could've been very nearly anything.  Finally, after nearly ten feet of slender white muscle had flopped out and coiled itself onto the bathroom floor, the creature righted itself, limbs seeming to twist and twine and creak in a way that should've been impossible.  Finally, Yaksha took his true, normal form, wicking away the water ever so slightly as he inhaled, and then turned to the room at large.  He had no idea if there had been an audience for his show, and honestly didn't care just yet.

"Ever heard the one about sewer gators?"

@Yaksha is your character done?

Sure is.

Yaksha wrote:Sure is.

Quote do post: 89015

Okay.

Calling in @Erida Seika @Izuna Kimura

Appearance: 4 paragraphs
Personality: 6 paragraphs
History: 9 paragraphs
RP Sample: 5 paragraphs

Overall Quality: Good, Could get around tier 3-3 to 3-1 depending on second approval.

Ready For Approval: Not yet, just a few things to address.

Notes: Some of your coding is broken, such as size. I believe the largest size is 18 that Forumotion does. Also you can remove some sections, such as the ones only relating to arrancar, these being the number and Aspect of Death also you can remove the strongest and weakest attributes. They should've been removed ages ago.

Now to techniques and other details.

Yaksha Dokuja wrote:
Name: Ophidian Overdose
Effect: It's no surprise to hear that hollows can inject their reaitsu into others, but Yaksha's ability goes above and beyond. His leaking reaitsu has a tendency to focus in his mouth over all other places, making his bite toxic even to other spirit beings. A bite from him can have effects remarkably similar to a hollow's acidic touch would on a normal human, although he can't perform it in quick succession just yet; his reaitsu needs time to release itself and cover the fangs again properly.

This needs an effect chart.

Yaksha Dokuja wrote:
Weapon Name: Flesh Render
Weapon Appearance: Yaksha's only real weapon is his remarkable fangs, capable of gathering and storing his reiryoku in a manner akin to a quincy's ginto tubes. On their own they're not capable of much, but a direct hit from one almost always ends unpleasantly for his opponents.

What is unpleasant about it? What effects does this have on opponents and the tier differences, as with any poisons please state the limitations and what it does

Added. Can probably swap the poison down to the weapons if need be.

I see nothing more to add. I am giving this my approval, after the sizes have been fixed. 24 is the largest font available in Forumotion. You will get 3-2 or 3-1 depending on what @Izuna Kimura thinks of this.

Tier 3-2 says I, so about the strength of a Shinigami VC without Bankai. Good Job.