Basic Information
Name: Tesla
Age: unknown
Gender: Male
Rank: arrancar
Looks: Tesla is a slim, male Arrancar with blonde hair. He has an odd turquoise marking on his right cheek and wears an eyepatch over his right eye, either because he is missing it or because he simply wears one to show his admiration and respect for Nnoitra. During the time when Nnoitra was still the 8th Espada, he is seen without the eyepatch and he has his right eye.
Tesla also wears a different style jacket from most Arrancar in that it resembles a lab coat, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and what appears to be medals sewn across his chest. He also wears black gloves and boots. The remains of his Hollow mask appear to be a thin upper jaw which forms a circlet around his forehead. When Nnoitra was the 8th Espada, Tesla's hair was noticeably longer.
Hollow Hole: unknown
Mask Fragment: The remains of his Hollow mask appear to be a thin upper jaw which forms a circlet around his forehead
Personality: Tesla seems to idolize Nnoitra to a degree. For example, he shields Nnoitra against Chad's last assault, although receiving criticism from Nnoitra for doing so. Despite being abused and scolded by Nnoitra for coming to his aid, Tesla remains very concerned for Nnoitra's well-being, running to his side when he is hit by Nelliel's Cero Doble and shedding tears at his death
Sexuality: straight.
Relationship Status: Single
Resurrecion Information
Name: Verruga (牙鎧士 (ベルーガ), Berūga; Spanish for "Wart,"
Represent: wart hog
Family: mutated nature idk its just ripped man XD
Looks: He releases it with the phrase "Crush" (打ち伏せろ, uchifusero). When released, Tesla becomes a large, warthog-like creature. His mask grows to cover his entire face, and also produces a pair of tusks. His hair also grows into a mane, and on his chest are six exclamation point- like makings, three per pec. In this released state, his mask has a large scar covering his right eye, where he has an eyepatch in his unreleased form, indicating he lost his right eye while released or that he had no eye there in the first place. However, in the anime he has his right eye, despite the scar. It is likely that he lost the eye at some point, since in Nnoitra's flashback during his battle with Ichigo, Tesla is shown with both eyes fully intact.[13]
Techniques
Name: Enhanced Strength
State: Ressurrecion
Description: In his released form, Tesla's physical strength increases greatly, and uses that brute strength to overpower and defeat his opponents.
extra abilities:
Swordmanship
Cero capability
balaa capability
Sonido capability.
strength
History and RP Sample
History: Back when Nnoitra was the 8th Espada, Tesla would watch him and the then 3rd Espada, Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck (Nel Tu), battle each other, which always ended with Nel easily winning. Tesla questioned Nnoitra as to why he only picked on Nel and not on other Espada.[1] Tesla did not partake in the sneak attack on Nel performed by Nnoitra and Szayel Aporro Granz that would lead to her banishment from Las Noches.
edit Plot
Hueco Mundo arc
Tesla makes his first appearance shortly after his master Nnoitra easily disposes of the weakened Yasutora Sado. He asks Nnoitra why he has spared the invader instead of finishing him off, to which Nnoitra simply replies that he has no interest in finishing off weaklings.[2] As the two begin to depart, Chad rises, gravely wounded and attempts one last attack on Nnoitra. However, he is stopped by Tesla using his sword. The reason for doing so was that he was concerned for Nnoitra and reasoned the enemy's last attack would be his strongest. Nnoitra scolds Tesla for interrupting, stating that no soul in the universe could harm him. [3]
Badly wounded Tesla sheds a tear for his fallen master.
After the conclusion of the fight between Ichigo Kurosaki and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Nnoitra disposes of Grimmjow and takes over the fight. Nnoitra then instructs Tesla to restrain Orihime Inoue while he fights Ichigo.[4]
The fight ensues with Nnoitra dominating Ichigo until Nel Tu reveals herself and overwhelms Nnoitra. As Nnoitra is pressured by Nel, Tesla rushes to his side.[5] However, he is scolded, thrown into a wall, and ordered to return to Orihime.[6] Tesla then recaptures Orihime and kicks aside Ichigo, not allowing him to interfere with the fight of the two Arrancar as it is Nnoitra's personal right to destroy those that "block his blade." [7]Nnoitra and Nelliel fight until she reverts back into her child form. After becoming bored with Ichigo and Nel, Nnoitra commands Tesla to finish him off and even forces Orihime to watch him die. Tesla complies, releases his Zanpakutō, and mercilessly beats a weakened Ichigo.[8] Tesla does this until being stopped at the last second by Kenpachi Zaraki.[9] Tesla questions who Kenpachi is and attacks him when his question is not answered but is sliced down vertically.[10] After Nnoitra is killed by Kenpachi, he is seen dying on the ground in his unreleased state and sheds a single tear for his fallen master.[11]
RP Sample: In the smoky darkness of the nightclub, the couple stood out. The woman was
young, with long dark hair and dark intense eyes. Her complexion was a golden
tan that owed nothing to cosmetics or tanning beds. She was wearing a
leather cat-suit that didn't come off the rack. She seemed solely interested in her
glass of champagne, the dance music, and her nail polish. The other pairs
watched them, avidly. The woman didn't need to make any overt displays of
domination; she seemed to barely need to focus on her escort, yet he seemed to
know exactly what she wanted. She glanced casually at the other patrons, her
face bland and smiling.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, also in leather, and the long folds of his
coat draped as he knelt on one knee beside her chair. When she put her hand on
the back of his head, she looked like a woman with a tamed lion.
Her perfect control over such an obviously alpha male made a mockery of the
other dominatrixes in the club, with their collars and chains and whispered
commands.
Cordelia would have been an unimaginative liar if she didn't admit that she
was getting off on the whole undercover deal. From the moment she zipped
herself into the soft leather of the catsuit, and took Angel's arm, she felt
absorbed by the part she was playing. "Just be Queen C," Angel said. "You're the
Queen. I'm your---"
"Warrior?" she suggested, when he seemed at a loss for words.
"Yes, that'll do. We'll probably have to go a couple of times, before we see
any demonic activity. But our sources are pretty clear, and your vision
confirmed Wesley's research; they're heart-eaters."
"I wish he was being metaphorical," she sighed. "But I know it's going to be
ooky."
"No, literally heart-eaters," Angel said, dead-pan. "And we're hearing that
these people who like to play the dominance games are mixing with the people
who want perpetual youth, and the demons who promise youth in return for---"
"---human sacrifice," Wesley chimed in. He finally looked up from his study
of two books. "My word, Cordy, you do something for that suit."
Cordelia let go of Angel's arm, and twirled, pleased at the neatness of the
compliment. Then she punched Angel in the shoulder. "How come you didn't say
anything nice?"
His face was still straight, but his eyes narrowed in amusement. "But that
would mean that you don't usually look fabulous."
"Old smoothy," she snorted, taking his arm again.
In the nightclub, Cordelia could feel the stares sliding over her like
effervescent bubbles in a Jacuzzi. It almost went to her head, but even more
intoxicating was the sensation of Angel paying attention to her breathing, to the
tiniest movements of her lips and eyelids. It was like nothing she had felt,
unless when she had been riding Keanu, her palomino. Angel knew where she
wanted to sit, so she could watch the crowd; knew when she wanted something to
drink; knew when she was feeling a little insecure, and knelt protectively
beside her.
She put her hand on his hair, so stiff in the front and soft in the back.
She felt like a lady lion-tamer. The lady and the tiger? No, definitely a lion.
The waiter brought her an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two
flutes. She picked one up, and felt Angel move under her hand. He stood up, and
her hand slid down his neck, his collar, his back, as he took the bottle and
popped the cork. He poured the wine---expertly---into her glass, and she
wondered, for a second, how often he had done that for a woman, how many hundreds
of glasses he'd poured, and then the thoughts were gone. Angel looked down at
her, and then,on one knee again, put the glass in her hand.
She felt the gazes of the entire club on her. Envious, excited gazes,
curious gazes.
Only one gaze counted, the steady brown gaze of the man beside her, and she
was the only one he was looking at.
It was the hottest thing she ever experienced.
Angel. A vampire, her boss, the grumpy guy who had spent the first weeks of
the summer sleeping on her couch, the one who cleaned the bathroom and the
kitchen when he couldn't sleep. Who snored.
She felt like she was falling into his eyes. She sat back, sipping her
champagne.
On the way home, her head cleared, and she could look at Angel again. He
didn't look like a warrior, he was just, Angel, a good-looking, kind of beefy
guy. No sort of lion. He was talking about the club. "---You can tell that kind
of activity is goin' on somewhere in the building, because there's an
underlying odor of blood."
Cordelia wrinkled her nose. "You could smell that, with the food, and the
alcohol and smoke and cologne?"
He gave her a disbelieving look. "Of course." He cut his eyes at her. "Just
like I could tell when your pulse and breathing changed."
She brushed her fingertips along her throat, smiling.
Back at the apartment, she watched him hang up his leather coat, take out
his cuff-links, and sit down on the sofa to unlace his heavy shoes. He walked
into the kitchen, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head.
She heard the pop of the refrigerator opening, and the ping as he set the
microwave. She dropped into her armchair, and pulled her stilettos off.
"Don't think I can take these back," she muttered, examining a small scuff
on the heel. In the kitchen, the microwave pinged. She wet her fingertip and
rubbed at the mark. It disappeared, and she tossed them on the couch. She
stretched her feet out, flexing her toes.
Angel came out and sat on the ottoman, with a mug. "Feet hurt?" he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he drained the mug, set it on the coffee table,
and then pulled her feet up and onto his thigh. She sighed, and closed her
eyes as he massaged her feet, his touch gentle on the tender spots.
"That feels so good," she said, her eyes still shut.
His big hands closed on her feet. "Can I do anything else for you?"
She opened her eyes. "Yeah. I can't get this damn zipper down." She pulled
her feet out of his grasp, and stood up, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I wondered why you weren't undressed," he said, and bent his head to his
hands on the zip. She sighed, again, at his touch. He fiddled with it, and
then, smoothly, the front of the suit opened.
"I should shower," she said, not moving.
"You know I love the way you smell," Angel said, and, circling her waist
with his big hands, he kissed, as he always did, the little rebar scar on her
belly. And, as she always did, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, like
the claws of a cat.
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