Toshi Space Katsu

data center: crystal | home world: balmung

Name: Toshikatsu (He makes the space up okay?)
Race: Auri Xaela / Raen
Gender: Male (He/Him)
Age: 27 Summers
Languages: Common, Hingan, Dhalmel
Height: 6 Fulm
Weight: 182 Ponze
Physique: Muscular, Mesomorphic
Hair: ???
Eyes: Your reflection as it gazes longingly back at you
Skin: Grape
Posture: Relaxed, until it's not
Scars: Callouses on palms, assorted scars across fingers and pretty much any place that has skin really; even the mask wasn't left without.
Voice: "Oh ya wanna hear my voice? Ahem!"
Distinguishing Features: The big frog mask is a good tell.
Birthplace: The Azim Steppe
Occupation: Who's askin'?
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Toshi Space Katsu has a tendency to put on quite the front as a dramatic eccentric. Exceptionally comfortable in his own skin and in possession of a habit of being ruthlessly honest with his opinions or otherwise flat out loud; which often places him at odds with some while conversely endearing him to others. As he readily admits. Despite this; however, he continues on as himself for being anything else would be quite the betrayal indeed.Driven to his core in the pursuit of ultimate freedom he's armed with extraordinary levels of willpower and guarded by an often underestimated and thoroughly obscure insight. Any task he set's his mind to is as good as done. Pursued with an unrelenting focus to ensure it's flawless execution. Of course, he's always looking to lend his services for causes he sees fit to serve for top gil or sometimes just for whatever a person had in their pocket; he wasn't picky as long as it was fun. Oh why he wears that absurd mask? Why that's a suspicious enigma shrouded in secrecy of course, oooOOoooOOoOOoo.Or maybe it's just really that comfortable.

Tread upon the endless night
struggle in the deep abyss
and tell me what it is
that you find there
A cracked armor wielded
by a decaying mind
weathering away little
by little the distance grows
Blistering anger now
subsiding to a deep
mellow lachrymose sinking
deeper,
deeper still
The mask pulled back;
a heart beset by barbed
thorns squeezing at the throat
struggle,
struggle ever more
into the endless night.
Only then can you glimpse
the rising sun
rising,
rising still

Hooks are for fish not frogs who are always keen to hop to adventure when adventure presents itself; however, one could assume to recognize him as a frequent participant in the Grindstone and victor on four occasions. A more rare sighting would place this cryptid frog-masked man standing in odd places dispensing musical justice upon his surroundings. He is also in possession of an array of oddly unique equipment; where'd he get it from?

Rated M for Mature.
I like stories that make sense.
IC/OOC separation is important to me.
Have fun!

Tread the endless night
struggle in the deep abyss
and tell me what it is
that you find there
A cracked armor wielded
by a decaying mind
weathering away little
by little the distance grows
Blistering anger now
subsiding to a deep
mellow lachrymose sinking
deeper,
deeper still
The mask pulled back;
a heart beset by barbed
thorns squeezing at the throat
struggle,
struggle ever more
into the endless night.
Only then can you glimpse
the rising sun
rising,
rising still