A man brooded in a dark room. His shadow, or what could be seen of it, was large and formidable. With his broad shoulders and his tall stature, he seemed strong and young, though he couldn't be called young. Likewise, he exuded an air of age and wisdom, of years of accumulated knowledge. But he couldn't be called old.
He is known only as The Director.
Around him were many screens, perhaps hundreds, maybe thousands. Most of them were turned off, however; the Director was only focusing on a few screens. The screens showed merely fighting. Fighting between strange beings, fighting between simple humans, fighting between those who just looked human...some of the screens showed a completely different setting. Some were simply a different angle of the same fight.
Seven Grand Battles going on simultaneously. But they needed another one for the grand finale. It seemed everybody was busy though, either orchestrating their own battles or desperately trying to keep up with all seven at once. Who would be willing to (and, more importantly, be able to) handle the eighth battle?
Suddenly, at the corner of one screen, barely visible, really, there was a tendril of awareness. Unseen by the fighters, it poked around, searching, before shooting off to a different dimension.
Quickly, another screen turned on, revealing another tendril on a barren landscape before it moved on. Turning on almost all the screens, the Director scanned through several, finding that there were quite a few tendrils poking around. Sometimes they wriggled their way into a fight, but it was apparently accidental because they would quickly wriggle their way back out.
It wasn't someone trying to fix the fight in their favor...
The Director followed the tendrils back to the source, weaving his way through a variety of settings until he traced the source down to one screen.
Yet another boring, blank pocket dimension.
But this one was cluttered. Ridiculously cluttered.
In the middle of the screen, the Director could see a woman, long-haired and lanky, apparently meditating in the middle of all her junk. Her hair had been pulled up in a careful ponytail, but out of neglect, the band was almost off, not even holding most of the hair in. The Director sighed heavily before joining the woman, adjusting his black suit and carefully avoiding the large amount of stuff. He contrasted harshly against the white background.
The woman was well known behind her back as The Dabbler, though, he had to admit, she did more than just dabble. She fully immersed herself in language before moving on to biology and then psychology. After that, if he remembered correctly, it was literature, then theology, then etymology and then...something. It didn't matter. Her name seemed to change as often as her tastes, so he was unsure what to call out. He settled for tapping her on her shoulder.
The tendrils of awareness retracted and the woman blinked, apparently disoriented, before bending her head back to look up at the shadowy man. "Oh! Director!" She grinned, jumping up on her feet. "Good to see you! How's it going?"
"Oh, it's the Cultivator now. Nice, huh? I though 'Cultivatrix' sounded strangely domineering and-"
"What are you doing?" The Director said coldly, unmoved by such cheerful blathering.
"What am I...? Oh! Ha! I'm looking for people for the Savage Brawl! That's a cool name too. It took a while for me to think of something not taken but-"
"The Savage-you mean you're hosting a battle?" The Cultivator nodded. "You were planning on telling me at some point, weren't you?"
The Cultivator seemed to ignore her guest's testiness. "Of course! I wanted to find some fighters first, though! Can't have a battle without fighters, hm?"
The Director, in turn, ignored the Cultivator's nudge in his arm. Eventually, the Cultivator became aware of the serious air and tried to look more grim. Unfortunately, she continued to beam widely. "Look...Cultivator, are you sure you can handle this?"
"Of course! It's all under control!"
"You're not going to...abandon this suddenly?"
"How can I? This'll be so interesting! Like...a study on behavioral interactions between humans slash humanoids slash, uh, non-humanoids. Like, plant...goat...things. Don't you think that's interesting?"
The Director stared impassively back at the Cultivator's eager face. "Cultivator. This is a battle that will spread carnage throughout space and, if you so desire, time. Are you sure that you can keep it under your control?"
"Why not? I can handle it. What can go wrong?"
The Director briefly considered the various ways this 'Savage Brawl' could go wrong, especially after simply uttering the words 'what can go wrong' before deciding, well, what the hell.
"Alright. But I feel I must put down a condition: all the contestants must be of those on the unfavorable end of the moral spectrum."
There was a long pause.
"...Oh! You mean villainous folks!"
The Director stared down the Cultivator's beaming face. "...Yes. I want to make sure that this finale has enough, ah, discord." It seemed the Cultivator was unaffected by this limiting rule.
"Alright! Don't worry, D-tor, this'll be soooo great~" The Director flinched at the strange pet name before finally leaving. Well, that takes care of that.
The Cultivator, alone once again, sits back down amongst her various possessions and continues her search.
Why yes, this is the eighth battle. And the last one before All-Star, so all you newbies should go join in this 'un now. Before it's too late and all. So let's begin this sucker with...
Rather than just roleplaying, this is collaborative storytelling. You can write as your characters, you can write as other characters, you can write as a random passerby haplessly caught in the fray. Though I suggest that you wait until you understand other characters. Still, don't be shy! If you get something wrong, it's no big deal! The character's creator will correct you (nicely) and we'll all go on our merry way.
Since this is storytelling, how you write is what matters most. Write well. Write often, too. Don't join and then just not post ever. That's annoying. There is no limit to how much you can write or, really, how little you write. Just write as much as you think should be written. Play off others' ideas. PM each other to bounce off ideas. All that jazz.
At every round's end, one unlucky combatant will have to be eliminated based on storywriting skills. I will ask for your opinions (yes, the readers can tell me as well) on who is the worst writer. Whoever I decide is the worst will be told so. He or she will write a death scene, or I can if you'd like, and then we move on to the next round.
Now I'm sure you hate it when you're writing this real long post and you're on a roll and you hit the submit button only to find that somebody has ninja'd you. Not to worry! You can reserve so that other people will have to wait while you finish! The reserve will not last overnight, though; three hours and then the reserve is null. Please don't start a reserve chain. It's very confusing.
As the Director has told the Cultivator, only villainous types. My definition of a 'villainous type' is loose, though. I'd probably accept a guy who thought he was righteous but is really nothing more than a serial killer. Just think of people who have violent tendencies or are natural schemers or master thieves or whatever. Villainous types.
Your character can be anything. A towering tree-plant being? Sure. Sentient nothingness? Why not. A carton of orange juice? That's fine by me. Your imagination's the limit. Just use common sense. Your character has to be your own original one. Your character cannot be a god or some other omniscient being who can trounce the other guys without breaking a sweat and blah blah blah. Be imaginative. And villainous.
...Is that it? Alright then, here's the form.
Username: (I'm sure you can fill this in just fine. If not, who let you on the computer unsupervised?)
Name: (Not yours. Your villainous character.)
Gender: (Male, female or neutral. Simple, no?)
Race: (Your character doesn't have to be human after all. I'm sure humans don't commit the only evils in the multiverse. If it's some sort of alien species, you can put a brief description of the species here if you'd like.)
Color: (Everybody needs a different color post. [background=#800080:1glqbtgj]This[/background:1glqbtgj] of course, is taken.)
Weapon: (Not necessary, though it could be helpful in a brawl.)
Abilities: (What makes your character special enough that the Cultivator would choose him/her/it? Firestarting? Fruit conjuring? Speed reader?)
Description: (What's your villain/ess like? Greedy? Gluttonous? Put personality and appearance here. Try to be descriptive.)
History: (Just tell us your character's story. What turned your character to villainy? You don't have to talk about it if it's private.)
1. Knask - Calm
2. slipsicle - Hoss (background silver)
3. SleepingOrange - Ekelhaft (#408000)
4. Ixcalibur - Ziirphael (#BF0000) Soulmother Ajota (#65000B) 5. Lankie - Dr. Anarchy (#0000FF)
6. Dragon Fogel - Konka Rar (#400040)
7. Not The Author - Gormand (#804040) 8. MyifanW - Diego "The Earworm Killer" Red (#808000)
Past the bounds of dimensionality, two figures stood alone in the void. One of them, the Cultivator, looked curious and eerily cheery as usual. The other, known only as the Executor, showed no emotion. He was dressed in a dark suit, and held a plain, colorless book in his hands.
[background=#800080:271onh6v]â€œSo, can you help? I could use an expert.â€[/background:271onh6v]
â€œThis is the most I can do for you, unfortunately. It's in my best interest that the Director does not know of my involvement in this battle.â€
[background=#800080:271onh6v]â€œCertainly he'd at least notice you take this?â€[/background:271onh6v]
â€œAs of now he's fairly distracted, and technically I haven't disobeyed anything he has said, so I'll be fine. Just make sure that you don't make any mention of me in your battle.â€ The Executor passed the book to the Cultivator, who looked through it eagerly.
[background=#800080:271onh6v]â€œWhat gives? This thing is completely empty, except for the first page. There isn't even a handy instruction manual.â€[/background:271onh6v]
â€œAh, yes. You sign your name on the first page, and write the names of the contestants on the eight lines under your name. The book will automatically narrate events of the battle, and all you have to do is describe the next location when a contestant dies.â€
[background=#800080:271onh6v]â€œAndâ€¦ why is this necessary?â€[/background:271onh6v]
â€œThree reasons. First, it automates the process so that things are less likely to go wrong. Second, it's a contract that binds you and the contestantsâ€¦ but not very tightly. Lastly, it gives the Director full control over the battles.â€
[background=#800080:271onh6v]The Cultivator signed her name on the line provided, and the name, underline and all, disappeared entirely. Instantly the book began to change, turning dark purple, and the words Savage Brawl appeared on the cover.[/background:271onh6v]
â€œThat's a security measure. It also fixes the contract.â€
[background=#800080:271onh6v]â€œSo, I'm all set?â€[/background:271onh6v]
â€œYep. All you need to do now is find some contestants, and off you go. Have fun.â€
[background=#800080:271onh6v]The Cultivator, grinning, disappeared in an eager hurry to continue her search.[/background:271onh6v]
This is perfect. She's just the type of person to give the Director one hell of a time. And, I can observe this battle freely, yet I'm not responsible or even associated with anything that happens here. The Executor disappeared into the higher dimensions with a look of satisfaction on his face.
Personally, it sort of seems like cyber supersedes Fogel for these purposes, but I guess I'll leave you guys to work that out. In the meantime:
Race: Ancient Ooze
Weapon: Only its natural ones
Abilities: In addition to everything a creature made of living slime can normally do, Ekelhaft is surrounded by an aura that weakens magic and slowly bends and breaks sanity. Short exposure causes slight irrationality, longer causes paranoia and hallucinations, and too long can cause permanent and massive destruction of rational thought and normal functioning.
Description: Ekelhaft is composed of a viscous green ooze, nearly opaque and about the volume of a refrigerator. Anywhere between zero and hundreds of eyes might be visible on the surface at once, and sharp teeth form and disappear at will. It is strongly acidic and full of virulent bacteria, meaning a gentle touch or bite can be painful and dangerous. It smells strongly of decay and mold. It tends to maintain an approximately hemispherical shape when not doing anything in particular, with eyes and teeth appearing and sinking back into its body at, apparently, random; it can form speech organs at will, and its voice is deep, gravelly, and punctuated with bubbles and slurping sounds.
As an avatar of decay, life is anathema to Ekelhart. It seeks, either obviously or subtly, to kill all those around it by its very nature; it is intelligent enough to use others to serve its own ends, but is unlikely to try unless there is some dire need. It isn't needlessly sadistic or prone to gloating, but can be seen as cruel, due to its endless attempts to end the life of everything around it. It's not very communicative, but is oddly knowledgeable about a number of things, likely due to its divine origins.
History: A nameless, forgotten god, eons ago, was bored. He, she, it, or they created a world, designed to amuse it for centuries. It was created with two avatars; one of creation, life, and order, and one of entropy, death, and decay. The god populated the world with armies and minions and creatures, turning it into one enormous battlefield; the war stalemated seemingly endlessly, the god ensuring that no one side was ever fully able to conquer the other. Inevitably, however, the fickle deity abandoned its project, and the dynamic changed. Ekelhart, Avatar of Destruction was able to destroy its counterpart and eventually all the minions of creation; left with nothing else to kill, it turned on its own forces. Unable to overcome their leader and the embodiment of the concept they stood for, they fell. Then the animals. Then the plants. Eventually, Ekelhart was alone, with nothing left to kill. Over the endless eons, it gradually destroyed itself, going from the colossal, nigh-omnipotent demigod it was to the shadow of itself it is now. Had the Cultivator not found it and taken an interest, it would probably have completely obliterated itself. Eventually, anyway.
Lodged in a stone waiting for the true king of Ingland
Re: The Savage Brawl
Oh well I guess I will try again.
Your character's name: Ziirphael
Race: Human/Ancient God of Death
Color: Red again.
Physical description: A very tall man wearing a black suit and red tie. He is bald and his face completely featureless. His hands and suit are perpetually covered with blood. When not in a body he appears like a floating black spark.
NOTE: he usually has both arms as normal arms unless stated otherwise. I just wanted to demonstrate some transformations.
Personality overview: Surprisingly quiet and contemplatative. He does not like to fight any more. He is reasonably amiable nowadays. If he does end up actually fighting someone he will do so in more of a resigned way. He is not bloodthirsty and he does not enjoy the fight.
Abilities: Ziirphael has the ability to enhance his physical form by daubing himself in blood in the shape of runes. These runes almost always alter him physically, for example making him larger, tougher, or transforming him in some way. Such as turning his arm into a blade made of bone, or even a gatling gun analogue.
Equipment: A suitcase with legal documents.
Backstory: Ziirphael is an ancient being from back before the light existed. Formed in the darkness he is pain, death and misery. Since the world was made he has walked the planet many times, taking the body of a man and destroying everything he comes across in a relentless orgy of blood and horror. He has murdered and maimed and eaten the souls of the dead so many times over the years. Occasionally when feeling ambitious he would burn whole cities to the ground or lead whole civilisations to war and ruination. He has done this for hundreds of years. As long as there has been people to kill he has killed, slaughtered innocents hopping from one body to another never being punished for his crimes. But as the years went by he changed. Where he found a giddy pleasure in ripping someone limb from limb he began to find only a grim satisfaction. Eventually even this feeling wore away and he found he was only continuing his campaign of blood out of habit. He was no longer deriving pleasure from the suffering of others. He tried to change. He took a new body and decided to try and live a different kind of life. It was during this pursuit of a normal life that he was snatched up and deposited into the Epic Clash Savage Brawl.
I know I said about moving from body to body and everything but I figure he can probably be locked into one body or something. So if it dies he dies.
well im going to use this character for whoever hosts so...yeah
Alrighty I think I can handle a second one! Plus I wanna try a different type of character, should be fun!
Name: Dr. Anarchy (Real name Jessica Vesper)
Color: Blue! #0000FF
Weapon: A death ray! A magnificent weapon which can fire lasers and doesn't require ammunition. Used too much though and it will over heat. (the laser is like a pew-pew laser, not a constant strem kinda laser, think star wars)
plus a variety of mechanical doodads
Abilities: Dr. Anarchy is nothing short of a genius! She can create what many great minds thought were impossible in mere days, chemistry, biology, physics. Any type of science she is a master of it!
Description: Dr Anarchy is a blonde woman of age 23. She wears a scientist coat, a common t-shirt and a pair of jeans underneath. She sports industrial rubber gloves, a pair of converse and some industrial goggles on her head. Finally a backpack, full of scientific stuff of death! She looks like a pretty normal 23 year old. Stray bit of blonde covering one eye, quite pretty. Her eyes are a piercing green. HOWEVER, Dr. Anarchy is anything but normal, she is a scientist of the mad variety, although only by default. She wishes to rule the world, but only because the world is 'dull'. Effectivley she wants to live in a comic book, as such she is incredibally over the top and nigh on never acts her age, much preferring a childlike persona. Don't let that think Dr Anarchy is harmless though: She has killed alot of people and caused many a catastrophy all in the name of making the world a more exciting place, she openly welcomes heroes to do battle with her, so that she may execute her flawless plans, which are terribly efficient and terribly over the top. Because she is a hyper genius she sees the plots to take her down as simple games and after the first 100 times it got a bit samey for her. Dr. Anarchy wanted something more chalenging and fun; the Cultivator answered her call.
History: Jessica Vesper was a normal girl with a normal life. When growing up there wan nothing to say that she was going to become the (arguably) crazy mad scientist to come. She enjoyed comic books immensly and was quite a tom boy. When taking maths amd science classes she found that she was the top of her class everytime, she would get perfect scores in the hardest of classes and still say it was too easy. It was never really explained, it just seemed to click effortlessly with her. She quickly went through school, high school, college and University, never slipping up with anything, perfect grades every time (except for PE...she wasn't very good at PE...). Finally at the age of 20 she was working with a top secret government agency to develop new weaponry. Jessica did so easily, but found herself increasingly bored. She knew the creations she were making wern't going going to be used in years time, or for anything 'cool' for that matter. In a flash of memory she remembered all of the comics she read, the exciting worlds within them, the tales of heroes and villains. So, in a spontanious action, Jessica began stealling a variety of equipment and prototypes and began hiding them in a disuded secret goverment base. She didn't want to become a hero, because quite frankly, villains were much more fun to play as! At the age of 21, she pulled her first heist of a bank, armed with a jetpack and a death ray. Dr. Anarchy was born, all from simple boredom.
so as you can see i've gone for a much more comedic character than my deadly serious death ninja in Battle Royale. Mainly because the majority of the battles are pretty serious all the time, so I hope to inject some fun into the mayhem!
Aryo, I kind of meant that message I sent you as a "you may want to double-check if you're hosting, and here's what may be going on if you are". I should have made that explicit, though. Sorry for causing the mess.
How about a joint hosting? Baphomet and Myifan are working together on Epic Clash.
Also: Reserving a spot, Konka Rar will be my character.
Edit: Copied over. Have not checked for color conflict yet.
Name: Konka Rar
Race: Cyborg Lich
Color: I guess I'll go with this one.
Physical Description: Skeleton in a black cloak with a mechanical left arm, a cybernetic right eye, and various patches of metal all over his body.
Personality overview: First off, he's evil. However, he's not "backstab-you-for-the-sake-of-backstabbing-you" evil; if you manage to form an alliance with him, he'll generally uphold it unless you outright betray him. He also has an intense curiosity about both magic and technology, having expertise in both and a desire to learn more.
Abilities: Very advanced offensive magic, necromancy, somewhat advanced knowledge of technology (it's newer to him, but he's picked up a lot fast). He also knows how to install cybernetic parts in any undead minions he has the opportunity to create.
Equipment: Cybernetic arm and other implants, a magic staff with a ram's head on it.
Backstory: Ages ago, he was one of the most talented wizards in his world. He was also incredibly ambitious, seeking to rule the world.
To this end, after usurping control of the kingdom he lived in, he summoned an army of demons and used them to invade neighboring lands.
Eventually, however, he was defeated, and killed.
But, his knowledge of magic allowed him to become a lich upon his death - a form of necromancy unknown in his world until that time. He was nevertheless defeated in this form, and though he remained "alive", his body was severely damaged beyond his ability to regenerate it. He lay dormant for thousands of years.
Until his descendant, the mage Sorsa Rar, found his remains.
As the end result of a process that would be a story in itself, Sorsa Rar managed to reconstruct his ancestor's body with cybernetics. Konka Rar had become a cyborg lich, and was fascinated by the technology that had brought him to life once more.
He immediately began experimenting with cybernetic undead (Eximo Pulvis being an early result), and slowly built an army of them.
He has been biding his time in his castle, waiting for the right moment to send out his army, seeking to rule the world once more.
Until one day, when he was suddenly pulled into a contest...
(Real short version: thousands of years ago he was human, then a lich, then relatively recently brought back as a cyborg lich.)
Gender: Genderless, though he responds (obviously enough) to masculine terminology.
Race: Food, heavily mutated (see description, history).
Food is... well, it's food, averaging about a meter in hight, and it's typically not anthropomorphic. They seem to naturally have low-level psychic abilities, since they can hold things without hands and sort of glide across the ground as well as having four of the five major senses. (They don't eat, so they don't need taste.) Food are also some of the most powerful mages in existence, largely do to their religious conviction.
Gormand naturally produces a virus that will quickly die without his prescence, be it direct or indirect. This virus, commonly known as "the Meat Virus," slowly transforms Gormand's surroundings into... well, into meat, over an extended period of time. The edible kind, though eating it is naturally not recommended. Matter typically turns into meat that most nearly matches its structure, which is why trees typically turn into chicken legs and such. Living matter actively resists the transformation. The change is abrupt, though - one second, soil, the next, steak. Sentient matter becomes Food, the particular sub-race varying with the individual's personality (hyper people tend towards confections, etc). Continued exposure once in this state will eventually cause brain-death. The virus dies much more quickly than it takes effect, and should enough of the Virus die, its effects reverse. A high enough concentration of the virus can survive independently of Gormand, and has minor sentience. Gormand can control the virus to a degree, though this requires concentration.
Gormand can consume "dead" food and add it to his mass. Through his control of the virus, he is able to twist this additional mass into various forms and organs. Typically, this mass is concentrated in his outer "skin," providing him with a surprisingly tough coat of armor for a giant ball of meat. There is a limit to how large he can grow, as the more massive he becomes, the more of the Meat Virus he produces, the less control over his own body he has.
When he was still "young," Gormand once approached a mass where the Virus threatened to overwhelm his consciousness. Seeing no other solution, he attempted to shed some of the excess mass... and succeeded. This mass became the first "Gorling;" essentially a hive-mind meat zombie. Gormand was able to relay simple commands to it, and have them carried out. The first Gorling was formless, but Gormand has since grown adept at their creation. They generally require an amount of mass directly proportional to their strength. The farther away a Gorling is, the more effort required to contact it. He can contact more than one as well, but this requires additional effort.
Currently, he's a little over two meters in diameter, and rests about half a meter off the ground. His tendrils (yes they are spaghetti) can range up to five meters in length, and are approximately twice the width of a human arm. He has around twenty, give-or-take three-ish. He still has his race's latent psychic abilities - his eye is entirely non-functional.
Personality-wise, he's overbearing, domineering, and generally angry at people. He's used to small groups mucking up his plans, and he hates it so. Still, being a master tactician, he's not opposed to aid from some outside sources, though he'll still be kinda pissed when they don't listen.
Once, Gormand was just a regular meatball, working as an aerotaximan in the Big Mac.
...Perhaps I should clarify.
All of Foodkind live in a single location, namely, the Big Mac. It is a city that is also the worlds largest ham/cheese/bacon/etcburger. It flies, and is invisible to the naked eye and a great deal of advanced sensors of both a magical and technological nature besides.
A wizard did it. Well, a lot of them did, anyway.
Each layer (lettuce, patty, cheese, tomato, etc) of the Big Mac floats several stories above the next, which led at some point to the establishment of an aerotaxi service.
The wizards were probably drunk, despite the barriers a Food would have to overcome to do so.
Gormand was one of the best, and quickly advanced through the ranks, becoming first district-wide and then city-wide manager. He was very good at management, but due to his love of flying, continued to work as a simple aerotaximan despite his high position.
And then he fell ill.
Gormand denied that it was serious until, about a week after falling ill, he fainted at his desk. He was rushed to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with Salmonella, a rare yet invariably fatal disease. At the time, there was an experimental cure in development, and he was offered it's use. Gormand accepted.
And here everything gets a little hazy. It is known that some facet of the treatment caused Gormand to mutate, that he went on a blind rampage that destroyed a large chunk of the Big Mac, and that he escaped the confines of the city. However, when such an important event occurs, there's rather a lot of time travel to that area for a variety of purposes, and tomorrow the specific events might have always not been what they were yesterday.
Gormand, ashamed of what he had done, sought help from the nearest settlement. The inhabitants of that town (mostly humans) believed they were under attack from an eldrich horror, and called in the military. Suffice to say, that town no longer exists. He went into seclusion, his thoughts being twisted by the mutated Salmonella variant now flowing through him. Bitter, angry, and maybe still a bit confused, he used his meat powers to create an army. Then a fortress. Then an empire.
Now one of the six most influential factions in the world, the Ravenous Legion seeks nothing less than world domination and the complete obliteration of all natural Foodkind.
Gormand was making preparations for what would probably have been the final seige on Metropolis, the Human capitol. That's why he's so 'small' right now - he used up most of his nonessential mass making a seige unit, and was about to start eating again before he vanished.
Timing, as they say, is everything.
I... think that's everything. Ping me if anything needs clarification, ha!
Last edited by Not The Author; 08-27-2010 at 05:03 PM.
*Weapon: A hellknife. It's extremely sharp and sturdy. But, what makes it unique from any other knife is that once it's blade hits something hard enough, it's temperature will temporarily increase to an extreme temperature (normally slightly above 1000 degrees celcius). It's black, with glowing veins that lava flows through. Weapons as these are said to only belong to those who fight in the army of the devil.
Abilities: Not much is known about Calm's abilities, what is known is that he can take a great deal of damage and heal grave wounds abnormally fast. He possesses great strength, although he looks a bit feeble. His skin is also especially sturdy, it will take some extra strength to cut him with a knife or a sword.
Description: Calm is a man, looking like he could be in about his twenties. His height is pretty normal, about 1.85 meters high. His body is thin, and not very muscular, yet he is peculiarly strong. Nobody knows how old he is, in fact, very few even knows he exists. He could be between 1500-2000 years old, and there's no sign of aging. Calm seems like he has a grudge against everything living. He loves to make others suffer, and he has started countless conflicts between humans without them even knowing it. You can't trust him, nobody can, he is cold, calculating and deceptive, and he often spends years just to make a single human as miserable as possible. However, calm is extremely unlucky. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. With Calm, there's a constant struggle against the environment. Animals hate him, wind always tries to throw deadly objects at him. If he walks close to a street, you can almost be certain that some car is going to slide of the road towards him. Because of this, he has become extremely watchful and observant. Calm is allways on guard, and he's so skillful he could he kill you with a sheet of paper. Rumors say that his powers and abnormal life-length originates from a deal he made with the devil.
History: very few knows where and when Calms story begins. It's said that he was living a pretty ordinary life with his beloved wife and his daughter, but then something happened. Nobody knows exactly what, but he somehow got in conflict with the gods. As a result, they sent upon him an endless stream of misfortune , making him the most forsaken man on earth. His wife suddenly died of a heart attack, his friends turned against him, his daughter got raped and murdered, and finally his house and workshop caught fire and burned to ashes. Then, in a long chain of unfortunate coincidences, the whole country turned against him, and he was banished from his land.
Full of spite, Calm's only wish was avenge upon to gods, so he teamed up with the devil, the master of the underworld. As Calm became one of the his soldiers, he was given eternal life and mystical powers. *It is also said that this was how he got his hellknife. Calm has one of the higher grades, and is one of the few who joined the devil's army and got to stay on earth. He will be there until the day when war breaks loose between heaven and hell, finally giving him a chance of revenge.
Well, that was until someone plucked him out of his universe.