The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round Three: The Sable Masque

[engineclock]

Somewhere in a tower nervously clinging to the underbelly of a newly-formed dimension, something wearing the shape of a woman sighed.

Her hair, or what was trying to be hair, billowed around her in red clouds, obscuring the top half of her face. It moved constantly, twisting and winding around her, its tips wrapping her arms and hands. Gravity wasn’t a factor to it; strands broke off in mid-air and wrapped themselves in floating knots, tightened and dissolved into nothing. The woman made no move to stop it, even as curtains of it fell to cocoon around her, hiding her from view.

She sighed again. She was bored.

Everything had been so dull lately…

The woman stood, her hair twisting back in on itself and flaring into wings, huge red feathered things that shook themselves open sleepily. She half-swayed, half-strode over to the closest wall, as if unsteady on new feet, and leaned against it, running her hands over the pale surface. Next to her, an enormous eye growing directly out of the wall slowly swiveled and focused on her face. Its pupil contracted, then slowly relaxed, growing larger and larger until the woman could see an entire world revolving in its reflection. The eye blinked and a thousand images flashed over it in an instant, scenes of death and life and war and peace and famine and plenty… All beautiful. All of it.

Maybe it was getting old.

A hand rested on the eye’s lid for a moment, then slid it shut. It twitched, still searching, but the woman ignored it. Instead she slowly turned to face the rest of the eyes on the walls, now that they were all awake. They covered every inch of the room, ranging in size from ones taken from the smallest of insects to huge, glaring behemoths that rolled in their sockets languidly. Each was now focused on her, thousands of glittering eyes pointed at her face, flickering occasionally with flashes of faces, bodies, things crawling and lunging and seething with life. Primordial worlds and dying suns burned within them; countless lives began and countless more were extinguished side by side.

One eye in particular caught her attention. Completely black from pupil to sclera, it shone more dully than the others, visibly struggling to keep its lid open. As she approached it, it turned towards her weakly, blurred with exhaustion. She hadn’t used it in some time, but this one had always had to bear more strain than the rest. Much more. She supposed it wasn’t fair. The black eye trembled as she reached for it and bolted open in fear at her touch, its darkness deepening instantly. Slowly, painfully, a dark and twisted landscape came into focus and swirled away as the eye found its target.

A shadowy form, dark enough to seep light from its surroundings, emerged slowly from the darkness. Its outlines were vague, either by its own doing or the eye’s unwillingness to focus as its vision skipped from side to side. The figure tensed. An ever-changing number of arms twitched as it turned to show its face, speckled with dully glowing red eyes that blinked randomly. Their expression changed when the figure saw the caller, and an impossibly large grin bared its teeth in the dim light.


“Well, look who it is. Haven’t heard from you in a while.” The voice rang with a tone that made the eye narrow in pain. “How are your delightful little chimeras coming?”

“Oh, I can’t even tell anymore!” The woman wailed, drawing her wings up around her shoulders. “I don’t understand them any longer. These endless cycles of change and perfection. I don’t understand them! I don’t. They’re all the same now, all of them. All of them. What’s happening to me? What am I to do?”


The eye shuddered as the dark figure blinked in surprise. “Er, well-”

“There’s screaming behind you, Tormy,” the woman said suddenly, smiling behind her feathers. “More than usual? More than usual.” She giggled. “What are you up to these dark days? It’s been some time.”


The Tormentor’s face twitched briefly at the nickname but he laughed, making the eye shudder. A slender black arm gestured vaguely behind him and the eye’s vision followed obediently, changing swiftly to an overhead view of a field of chaos. Tiny figures collected in groups and scattered in the wake of larger ones as the Tormentor narrated. “The Relentless Slaughter. My latest game and the greatest of the Grand Battles yet, if my judgment is correct. Which it is. You know how it these things go, don’t you? Eight contestants, seven rounds, seven ways to die. I think you’ll find, though, that this particular battle is a little more interesting than that.” He snickered. Something on the field screamed.

A high, shivering laugh floated up from the woman’s throat and escaped between her teeth. “Such brilliance! Such elegance, such sheer ingenuity, such devastation. Magnificent. What vivacity there is in a lone life fighting to survive. What perseverance…” Her wings writhed behind her and became a long row of red bone spines trailing down her back. They flexed in a wave, stretching like fingers. “What a genius you are, Tormy. I’d never thought of such potential, never. What an idea. A captive war. What inspiration this is…” She paused for the briefest of moments. “I want one.”

The eye’s response to the Tormentor’s responding laugh was to roll in its socket in agony. Its lid dipped and threatened to shut entirely before it reoriented, bringing the shadowy figure back into reluctant view. “Oh, naturally. You would be the one to say that, wouldn’t you.” He smirked. “Sadly, I’m not in control of these things. You’ll have to speak to the Fool about it. Limits and rules and all that.”

“Technicalities, all of it. How dull. How stagnant. I’ll see to it eventually. These are meaningless things in the face of what must be done. Mere details.” She grinned, pressing a hand against the faltering eye. “What I will create will be beautiful. I am going to perform a sacrifice to life itself. Eight doves, eight altars. Beautiful. All of it, flawless. My work will echo for aeons.”


“I’m sure it will, K-”

The Tormentor’s voice was cut off abruptly as the eye finally gave out and closed, quivering under its lid. The woman stroked it comfortingly. None of her eyes had the strength to stare into that space for long, not even this one. She’d been so careful to take it from one of the things that grew in that darkness… The Tormentor would understand. It didn’t matter. They would see each other again.

She turned away from the wall of eyes and laughed. There were things she needed to do. Her fingers snapped, deafeningly loud in the otherwise empty room; instantly a neat-looking man of no real distinction appeared in its center, wearing a dull gray formal suit. Four arms sprouted from his shoulders, the uppermost pair of which was occupied with shielding his face from view. He sighed dully. He was used to this kind of thing.

“Crowe, go inform the Fool that I am claiming one of these Grand Battles for myself. I am going to make something beautiful. I am going to destroy everything to find the essence of life and what I am about to do will echo for ages in the eyes of the universe. There are no words for the majesty of what I will create.”

The man in the suit wearily pulled a well-worn notebook and pen from his suit pocket and began to scribble down every fourth word or so. “Pardoning my impertinence, this does rather seem like something you should inform him of yourself, if you’re being entirely serious at the moment.” He looked up briefly, apparently not troubled by the hands over his eyes. “Do you even know what you’d call this… affair of yours?”

“Names are meaningless, Crowe,” she said, laughing. “Call it anything you want. The Riotous Standstill, the Brilliant Ruin, the Vivacious Deadlock for all it matters.”

“Noted.”

She turned to the eyes, which shifted their focus from Crowe back to her in one sweeping wave. “All of the thousands of worlds my eyes can see, all of the billions of lives..” She drifted towards one of the largest, a terrifyingly blue monstrosity with a horizontal slash for a pupil that rolled ponderously from side to side. Leaning in towards it, her spines dissolved and became hair again, billowing and seething in a frantic tangle.

“I will search them all and when I have exhausted every possibility, seen every thriving world I will take from them my eight perfect sacrifices. My battle will begin and end in destruction that will shake the fibers of the universe itself, and I…”

“I will be its Spectator.”

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“’The Spectator’? Really?”

“I panicked.”

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Everything In Its Right Place: What’s this all about?

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Yet another entry in the illustrious line of Grand Battles! I’m going to assume that anyone interested in joining has at least a cursory knowledge of what this about, and in case you don’t, this is what we’re aiming for. In summation: this is a creative writing competition, in which each entrant submits an original character to engage in a battle to the death with everyone else’s characters, with the winner being determined by level of activity and writing skill. Traditionally the number of contenders is limited to eight and the rounds to seven, with one elimination being orchestrated per round. There have been exceptions, of course.

It’s likely worth mentioning that should you enter, you’ll be expected to write for other’s characters as well as your own, potentially even more so given appropriate circumstances. Interaction is key, whether it be forming alliances, building rivalries, or coming up with new and exciting ways to hike up your douchebag rating. That said, killing or seriously maiming another contender (or their equipment, if applicable) before they’ve been slated for death is seven kinds of not cool. If you’re unsure whether a certain action is okay, it’s always recommended to ask your fellow contestants first.

The decision of who lives and who doesn’t is mine, but as always the audience is invited and encouraged to try and persuade me one way or the other. In addition to skill and frequency of posting, factors such as creativity, cleverness, and a satisfactory grasp of English grammar and spelling will be brought into account. Don’t make me hate your character because you can’t be bothered to click the spell-check button. Delays in posting are understandable, but you can and will be eliminated if you become inactive.

If you’re still at a loss, I highly recommend looking at the Grand Battle Wiki for records of the previous battles, and stopping by #grandbattle on espernet IRC if you haven’t done so already. Scheming is a valuable skill.

An obligatory note on reserves: Slam one down if you need more time, and be clear about it if you want yours voided. No stacking, whether by the same person or multiple. Try to fill your reserves within 24 hours, though we know how things tend to crop up, don’t we? Really ridiculous ones will be declared invalid, but let’s try not to make that happen. Talk to me if there's any concerns about this.

All I Need: Entry form. This is slightly necessary.

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Name: Your character’s nom de guerre. Nicknames, titles, this is an easy one.
Gender: Male/ female/ neither/ both. Doesn’t matter what you put down so long as we have a pronoun to use.
Race: More or less literally anything. No matter what you put here, someone else has done something weirder. Probably a good idea to give your character the ability to interact with their surroundings, however. Some method of ambulation is likewise always useful.
Color: Your character’s signature color and/or background, which you will be posting in. Don’t pick anything similar to the colors used in this post, and I would very much appreciate if you’d select something readable. Everyone dislikes having to highlight an entire post just to be able to decipher it. “Everyone” here refers to me.
Description: Physical and mental attributes. What does your character look like? What’s their modus operandi? How likely are they to start a bloodbath within five minutes of arriving? Pictures of your character are strictly optional, but go here if you have one.
Weapons and Abililities: This is probably why your character is in this battle to begin with. Do they have any special equipment or powers? What are they and what do they do? Again, basically anything goes. Get creative. A big sword is not creative; a big sword that summons Spanish-speaking fruitbats is.
Biography: The relevant parts of your character’s life prior to this battle and being summoned away in a swirling explosion. You don’t need to put their whole life story, but you can if you want. This is a good section to explain their motivations.
Theme Song: Arbitrary and totally non-compulsory. This is just a silly thing I like to do.

AN IMPORTANT ADDENDUM: The only requirement for entry is that your character must have eyes, or some directly comparable structure (for example, optic sensors for the mechanically inclined. Even painted eyes will work if your character is some kind of construct, so long as they see with them). Go on, guess why.

NAMES TO WATCH OUT FOR:

1. Godbot: Sir Cedric- #FF0000
2. Pharmacy: Merrifield- #9D0020- MELTED
3. Akumu: Dr. Harmon- SeaGreen
4. PickYerPoison: Klendel- #0000FF
5. Fluxus: Ivan Norst- DarkOliveGreen
6. Anomaly: Nalzaki- #999999 on #191919- STYX'D
7. SleepingOrange: Cascala- #336699
8. Ixcalibur: Empress Phere- 4B0082

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PLOTTING AND PLANNING

[Akumu]

Name: Dr. Melissa Harmon

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Color: SeaGreen

Description: A professional woman, Dr. Harmon carries herself with a severe dignity. Coming up through the male-dominated world of physics, all the weakness was burned out of her. She feels the need to project an air of hyper-competence at all times and is liable to react very badly to any situation where this is not feasible. She is around five-foot seven with shoulder-length auburn hair. At the time she was chosen she was wearing jeans and a green plaid flannel shirt. She has a thin, athletic build.

Weapons and Abilities: Dr. Harmon was field testing a prototype of a portable multiple-worlds sensor when she was chosen, and it was brought along with her. The device has a backpack containing fuel cells and a compact cyclotron for exotic matter production, as well as a hand-held probe and readout for measurements. In its current form it is only good for detecting the hyperdimensional proximity of parallel worlds, but it is fertile ground for raw materials and modifications. Dr. Harmon has a sharp mind and extensive training in electronics, programming, mathematics and particle physics. She is also an avid rock climber.

Biography:

“In the mid-21st century, observational astronomy[1]-[8] and high energy particle physics [9]-[14] came together to produce the crowning achievement of physics: the Theory of Everything[15]. It was said louder and with more conviction than ever before that the pursuit of science was now largely over, the rest being merely the filling in of details. However, there were still frontiers not yet explored. Though we knew what was, the question still remained: what must be?”

Thus opened Experimental Validations of The Many-Worlds Hypothesis, the Ph.D. thesis of Melissa Harmon. Over the course of her graduate career, she demonstrated that micro-singularities could be produced, contained, and used to transfer information between the realities bifurcated during the collapse of quantum wavefunctions. Starting with seeing a single atom scattering in a slightly different direction than it did, refinements and higher power have led steadily towards seeing realities which split off further and further in the past.

Yet another late night found Dr. Harmon in her lab, trying a new focusing configuration. Upon activation, the needle on the harmonometer immediately topped out, followed nigh immediately by the power grid for the entire city blowing out. Future tests of the configuration produced enhanced results, but nothing like the first test. What she didn't know was that she had, that night, punched through to a completely different plane of existence, diverged from her own at the very moment of creation. This was a howling chaos, without form. A connection was created between Dr. Harmon and this place, it giving her its ambition and her giving it a body.

Since that time, she has at times found herself compelled to dismantle equipment and appliances and reconfigure them into devices she can not fully understand, though they seem to be related to her research in some distant way. On that other plane, eldritch energies congeal writhing at the point of contact, waiting for their chance to pour across the boundary into the world of matter...

Theme Song: She Blinded Me With Science, Thomas Dolby

[Solaris]

reserve or whatevers

Name: Kekarie

Gender: None, but I guess it would answer to male.

Race: Ancient Wind Spirit

Color: Pretty Dark Yellow that is Hex code #B2A807

Description:

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Standing at some five feet, the birdlike spirit has a feathered, blue and green torso with some rougher magenta legs. Its feet each have three, powerful clawed toes. It also has a small pair of magenta wings, only slightly large enough to wrap around his body. From the neck up is his orange, beaked head, which also lacks feathers. Finally, its most odd limb is his large, yellow, prehensile tail, which has five clawed, humanoid fingers at the end.
Personality wise, Kekarie’s a bit of a prankster. Likes to juggle with the tail, enjoys speaking with plants, animals, and children. It likes attention from the younger ones very much. It cares for the forest and lives to protect it, but for the most part prefers to go about its business in a lazy way. It doesn’t act all that smart, but it can still speak, it just prefers to play around and use tail motions and trickery to communicate. However, if a friend or the forest becomes severely threatened, all this is replaced by an immeasurable rage. When like this, it is very loud and brash, preferring to go from point A to point B as fast and loudly as possible.

Weapons and Abililities: Being a wind spirit, it does not require food or drink, but greatly enjoys Fruit and various liquids. Its beak and claws can pierce and rip apart moderately hard objects, while its tail-hand can only scratch or carve at things. However, it can easily wield weapons with little difficulty, and is easily maneuverable and strong, capable of suspending the rest of the body with ease. It has extraordinarily good balance, and a sixth sense for falling objects. It also can spit out compressed wind bullets of varying power, ranging from enough to knock a hat off, to piercing a bulldozer. While it has a great control of wind, unless severely aggravated, it prefers to limit itself to only passive wind control to increase speed and jumping ability, with the exception of his wind bullets.

Biography: A wind spirit created by a god of the wind to look over a beautiful forest, this creature spent its time frolicking and speaking with the plants and animals around it. Then, one day it fell asleep deep inside the center of the forest. As time went by, humans arrived and a legend of this Guardian of the Forest was made. They said that it would awaken if the forest ever came to grave danger. They called it the Kekarie. Decades passed, then centuries, then millennia. The creature slumbered for all these years without interruption and its legend was virtually forgotten.

Then, one day, it woke up. Not aware of the many changes, it ran through the forest, searching for the animals and trees it had spoken with so long ago. The newer plants told it of all of the changes, especially noting the arrival of the creatures called humans. It decided to go see these humans, and it silently stalked the village. Eventually, it chose to appear to a few human children. They were terrified at first, even more when it spoke to them, thinking it a demon. However, a village elder, who knew of the legend, spoke to both the children and the creature, reciting the legend and informing them all of the upcoming danger that the forest would be in. It seemed that the forest would have a good chunk of it taken away by loggers and so the elder begged the creature to stop them. It accepted.

For months, a small battle was waged between the loggers, and what seemed to be a ghost. Using his air bullets and his tail, the creature, now accepting the name Kekarie, constantly bothered the loggers from the shadows, misplacing equipment, knocking off hats, trying to stop them without being to forceful. Meanwhile, Kekarie continued playing with the children of the village and generally having fun. This only lasted for a few months.

After three months of no progress on the harvesting of the trees, the workers began to grow impatient. Deciding to take a rather drastic measure, they set some of the forest on fire, to distract the villagers and who they thought was their ghost, while they would work on another part. While fighting the fire, the elder who had shared the legend died. Kekarie became enraged. The sky went dark and a wicked wind blew in. A chill went down the spine of the loggers as suddenly, walking became an endeavor. Still, they tried to continue their work, only to stop when one of their trucks flew away into the sky. A loud voice boomed throughout the entire forest, its message etched into the minds of the workers. Kekarie was blunt. It told then to die.

What occurred that night is a blur to the loggers, the villagers, and Kekarie itself.
The equipment was destroyed, the metal machines punctured and ripped apart.
The trees were still there, only all pointing away from the loggers.
The loggers were scared and injured, unable to muster a word of what happened.
The forest had an unexplained crater right where Kekarie had been seen last.
And the spirit who had caused this had disappeared, far away from its forest and into the fight of its life.

Theme Song: Angel Island Zone - Sonic 3

[Dragon Fogel]

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I'm not entering, I'm just posting here to approve of this battle and keep track of it more easily.

Looking forward to seeing it start!

[Godbot]

So big swords aren't creative, hmm?

[9link5]

Name:Seron
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Color: Dark Green
Description: 17, Hot-Headed, Blade master, wears a mix of chain mail and a tunic, hardly seen without Roy.
Weapon: 3' sword used both single-handed or both depending on the situation
Ability's: Spell-tag based support magic (Ex: flaming sword), sword shock-waves, Roy Partner, Roy Cross (Gains wings that allow flight and can block attacks along with his armor turning red)
Roy the Pheonix
Color Red
The more strategic of the two.

Bio: Eccentric Wanderer, Took up mercenary jobs when able, met Roy while exploring a cave rumored to hold a legendary blade.

Theme: Heir Conditioning, Homestuck

[9link5]

Name:Seron
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Color: Dark Green
Description: 17, Hot-Headed, Blade master, wears a mix of chain mail and a tunic, hardly seen without Roy.
Weapon: 3' sword used both single-handed or both depending on the situation
Ability's: Spell-tag based support magic (Ex: flaming sword), sword shock-waves, Roy Partner, Roy Cross (Gains wings that allow flight and can block attacks along with his armor turning red)
Roy the Pheonix
Color Red
The more strategic of the two.

Bio: Eccentric Wanderer, Took up mercenary jobs when able, met Roy while exploring a cave rumored to hold a legendary blade.

Theme: Heir Conditioning, Homestuck

[Not The Author]

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Gotta get me one-a them little white dots

[TimeothyHour]

Username: TimeothyHour

Name: Goliath

Gender: None (identifies as male)

Race: Magnus sententia

Colour: Sienna please, thank you very much.

Description/abilities:

Originating on the planet B6-780c (more commonly known as “Atlas 4”) Magnus sententia’s most obvious feature is its size. Anywhere from two stories to seven stories tall at its fully grown height, Magnus sententia is an imposing creature. Other physical appearances also continues in this vein, the brown skin stretched tight over the muscle, and bright, yellow, pupil-less eyes. It posses no mouth, but rather absorbs its required nutrition via the skin at alarmingly fast rates, an approximate 10-second touch of the hand being able to absorb an entire earth sheep when it chooses to. And certainly requires that ability; the average Magnus sententia eats the equivalent of twenty earth cows a day! Magnus sententia communicates with a select few (including its imprinter and others members of the species, although it can communicate with other beings) beings via telepathy; but most of the time uses body language to get its point across.

Magnus sententia do not have genders, although they identify as one gender or the other. The species reproduces in a way similar to both some kinds of Jellyfish and Fungi. When a Magnus sententia dies, it releases a variety of spores, some of which root themselves and grow into a polyp-like plant. These plants, after maturing, will each produce 1-5 infant Magnus sententia, which will immediately search for an imprinter. The imprinter, almost always sentient, serves as the Magnus sententia’s moral, social, spiritual, and mental guide, along with providing for certain physical needs at certain times, such as food. In return, Magnus sententia provides protection, love, and undying loyalty to the imprinter. If an imprinter is dies or is otherwise lost, if the Magnus sententia understands that that is the case, or after a period of about thirteen days, the Magnus sententia will immediately begin looking for a new Imprinter. However, Magnus sententia will favor older imprinters over newer ones, and sometimes considers newer imprinters as “temporary.”

Although often peaceful and conscious of its actions, there are some cases in which Magnus sententia enters into an enraged state, all higher-level functions shutting down in favor of brutal and often shocking violence. These include, but are not limited to:

-Prolonged physical pain or torture.
-Prolonged mental or psychological pain or torture.
-Endangerment of the Imprinter.
-Death of the Imprinter.
-In rare cases, at the request or command of the Imprinter.

These rages completely remove all inhibitions for the Magnus sententia, allowing it to use its full strength and size, often with incredible results. Unfortunately, these rages, when protecting an Imprinter, often end up killing the Imprinter along with any other living thing nearby. However, most of the time, Magnus sententia are peaceful, docile, and intelligent creatures, their intelligence on par with that of most sentient beings.

Biography: Goliath was a normal Magnus sententia (known as a “Colossus” in colloquial vernacular), reaching about three stories tall. Imprinted to a human by the name of Marcus Johnson. Marcus Johnson was a bit of an odd one, having somewhat strange views on a variety of topics, and lived by himself in the wilderness. Consequently, Goliath adopted many of these conventions and views. It was a happy (albeit somewhat quiet and strange) relationship, The Imprinter talking to the Colossus about the world, the Colossus helping him live in it. They were happy, living to the beat of their own drum. There was a peace between the two that many people never experience in their lifetime.

And then all of that was ripped away.

Theme song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tpl6ncyxLGw

[Agent1022]

Name: Emvee Seventeen, First Class of the School of Technomancy, Ranaetha Univercity, Libertaria. Common name Emvee.

Gender: Female

Race: Human.

Color: #FF8050

Description: Emvee has confused genetics – her father was a Sixth Class Biomancer at Ranaetha Univercity descended from the already genetically mixed but predominantly Asian class, but her mother hailed from a line of nearly pure Scandinavian descent. As a direct result she retains her father’s facial characteristics and hair but her mother’s well-built body type. She is seventeen. As for personality, her primary trait is that she’s driven to be better than her peers due to the fact that she started her Univercity education late and without the specialized training most Mages get. Her ability is definitely still improving.

Weapons and Abililities: As a First Class Technomancer, not a lot. All Mages of Libertaria draw their power from the fact that the mini-universe of Libertaria has an exaggeratedly low mind-plane. All worlds have a mindplane and a matterplane, one metaphorically above the other – thus the saying: “Mind over matter”. The presence of a mind distorts the mindplane much like a mass distorts the matterplane. In Libertaria, the mindplane is low – so low, that where a sufficiently advanced mind reaches the matterplane, the impossible…can happen. But a sufficiently advanced Libertarian mage’s abilities are not muted, only hampered by worlds with a higher mindplane. Emvee has a lot of natural talent thanks to her father’s genes, but mind-plane manipulation is something that has to be learned. Seriously, it has to be learned or else the mind isn’t sufficiently advanced in the first place. Right now she could probably access basic computers like calculators or appliances, but I think a computer terminal might be beyond her. For now.

--Clarity--

'Magic', as it may be, is in fact the manipulation of matter through indentations in the plane of mind. The more advanced the mind, the better it can be done. Emvee's got the talent, thanks to genetics, but she hasn't been trained very much. So far, she could probably use a computer and technology for what it was designed for, and through changing electron flows could make the displays and components work the way she wants, but her lack of skill really limits her to the existing infrastructure. Rewiring circuits through the mind alone is going to be a bit beyond her. In the same way, trying to manipulate a complex system like a computer (of complexity such that of say, the laptop I'm typing this on) using only her mind is going to be difficult. It'd take way less effort to press the keys. But a simple computer like the chip in a microwave that figures out how long to turnon the magnetron for or the computer in a calculator that figures out x^2 can be used, in conjunction with one another, to create a bloody magnetron that ramps up its output exponentially. In the same way, a display could be manipulated into displaying messages, a flash cannon or maybe just memes.

Biography: Univercity Square, the center of Ranaetha Univercity. The city of Ranaetha, one of the three capitals of Libertaria, had been built around the Univercity, so much so that the two had become virtually one – yet actually being a pupil of the Univercity required more than simply living there. Of course it helped if you weren’t of those who lived out in other, less important cities or worse, out in the country, but there had been cases of prospective Mages being found even there, living their lives farming and trading. As the child of an existing Mage, however, Emvee had been tested from birth, her brain activity carefully observed and monitored as her cognitive ability developed…and was told to gain a traditional education as opposed to the specialized training proper Mages got. But only last year, just after she turned sixteen, she was retested and enrolled in the school of Technomancy (generally considered to be the easiest branch of –mancies to master), somewhat late but still catching up. It would have been next month that she would graduate to Second Class, were it not for her disappearance in a highly fascinating short-lived interuniversal rift.

Theme Song: “The Impossible Dream”

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Blah. I may have botched characterization. Will develop, I swear.

[granolaman]

Name: Johann Meriwether

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Color: Luxurious Goldenrod

Abilities: Johann can sense (see/hear) the songs of people, places and things. The song is comprised of the thing’s history, personality and inner being. If Johann plays/sings this song, he can enact various degrees of control on the song’s possessor, ranging from lie detecting and distant communication to animation and domination.

Description: Johann is a tall and slender man with a fair and soft complexion. His hair is composed of long golden locks and flows freely down his head. He wears a simple laced shirt and trousers, along with a baroque wooden lute slung across his shoulder.
The man has been an artist all his life, and it shows in his heavily romantic and nonaggressive outlook. He is often mistaken as a poet, but he lacks the trademark verbal flourishes. It’s easy to see the resemblance though as Johann is drawn to things with beautiful songs. The music has also granted him an uncanny insight into the natures of things making him appear wise for his young age.

Biography: “Gifted” is the word that springs to mind when most people think of Johann Meriwether. Those of religious persuasion would even go as far as “blessed.” No matter the description, one thing was clear: Johann was an extraordinarily talented musician. Whether it be piano, lute, or his seductive tenor voice, every piece he performed swept you off your feet. And if you were fortunate enough for a private concert, why the music felt as though it could move your very soul. Oh how the women fell at his feet for such a performance. He could have his pick of any noble’s daughter if he’d only pull his head out of the clouds long enough to choose. Indeed, his aloofness was his bane. The music society agreed that if he’d only focus himself he could easily become the greatest musician of the era. But alas, the young man cared not for his career or prestige. Instead he spent his days searching for “the one perfect song.” No one knew exactly what he meant by that, but few doubted his search was the reason for his disappearance one misty morning…

Theme Song: Scarborough Fair

[Anomaly]

You already know I'm working on one, but I'll post here because subscription.

[Ixcalibur]

Is one eye and a powerful scrying artefact applicable?

If not it's still a reserve while I produce a more appropriate character.

[Anomaly]

Is one eye and a powerful scrying artefact applicable?

Still counts as eyes, so I'd say it's perfectly legal.

[Pick Yer Poison]

Name: Klendel
Gender: Male
Race: Cog
Text Color: #0000FF
Description: Klendel is about 5'6", coming in on the short end. His head comes to an end in natural spikes, and there is a gear partially embedded in his back. His whole body, including his hair, is a smooth black color, as if it were made of solid shadows. His eyes have a red glow to them. His hands can extend into razor sharp claws and his teeth into fangs of a similar sharpness at a moment's notice. He has a lithe form and is very graceful when moving. If one looks closely, it becomes apparent that he does not have a shadow.

Klendel is an anarchist of the finest degree. He delights in destroying authority and organization without discrimination wherever he goes. He would be just as eager to topple a shady government as he would be to ruin a kind king's reign. He tends to view others as little more than tools, and believes the ends always justify the means. Especially if the ends are his, and the means cause problems for others.

Weapons and Abilities: Klendel has sharp claws and fangs (when he wants them), an inherent ability to manipulate shadows, and an ability to magnify fear.

Biography: Klendel is the last known member of an ancient race known as the Cogs, due to the gears embedded in their backs. After he came ambling out from the Cog lands, wherever they may be, no others have come after him. Rumors started up that he had done in the Cogs, and he did nothing to disperse them, which only made them seem more true. The only one who really knows what happened to the rest of the Cogs is Klendel himself, and no one has ever gotten up the urge to ask him. He has been alive for several hundred years - even he's not sure what his exact birth date is - and he has spent most of it getting very important people in very big trouble. He lives for mayhem, but usually tries to make sure he has someone to hide behind if things go wrong.

Theme Song: Paint It Black

[Ixcalibur]

Name: Empress Phere
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Color: Purple
Weapons and Abililities:Where her right eye used to be there is an artefact known as a Hollow. Hollows are incredibly potent and versatile, when affixed to a person they become extensions of that person, and enhance the abilities of the area that they are replacing. Specifically Phere’s Hollow enhances her vision, allows her to see where she chooses to see. Phere also has powerful elemental magic, though this particular skill is one that she has not used for a long time and is a more than a little rusty with.

Description: Phere is of a decidedly regal bearing, she wears an elaborate black and purple full length dress, which is somewhat impractical. She wears a tiara replete with glittering amethysts, and an eyepatch to cover her right eye. She has long black hair, very pale white skin and her remaining eye is blue. Beneath her eyepatch is a powerful artefact called a Hollow. It is slightly larger than her eye was and more perfectly round. It is black though its surface is patterned with fine purple images, representations of what it sees.
Phere sees herself as a god, and perhaps not without reason. She is indifferent to the suffering of ordinary people, believing them to be incredibly flawed and a massive waste of her time. She is more than a little paranoid and uses her ability frequently to check that people are not plotting against her. She is slow to act; contemplative almost to a fault, but quick to defend herself. She is not used to having to depend upon herself, having relied upon heavily armed guards for a long time. She insists upon being called by her title.

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Biography: The world in which Phere was born into was being torn apart by war, specifically the kingdom in which she was born was being hit the worst, one of the smaller kingdoms but possessing a tactical value it was being attacked on multiple fronts by powerful enemies. Their existence was precarious, constantly under siege, only just managing to survive because their enemies would begin attacking one another if any one looked like it might prove victorious.
For the first fifteen years of her life Phere never saw outside the heavily fortified keep that was her home, she showed aptitude to become a mage and trained hard to do so day and night. Her prowess did not go unnoticed and she was recruited to a select task force nicknamed The Seekers. Their purpose was to find alternate ways to fight this war.

Their major success was in locating a place called The Deep Forge, an ancient ruin deep in the earth but with technology surpassing anything that they had on the surface. As they explored this long abandoned ruin they discovered that it was for want of a better word a factory, wherein the world itself had been built. There were tools for creating life, for terraforming what had been a lifeless planetoid into the world that they knew today. The repercussions of this find were astonishing, though perhaps forgotten at the time as the Seekers sought to weaponise what they had found in order to save their kingdom. They made an army and importantly they discovered the Hollows. Each of the Seekers took one and replaced a part of their body with it, gaining various abilities, some more useful than others.

The Seekers returned to the surface with their army and their powers and won the war easily, leading their small kingdom to conquest over the larger ones, and they returned to their loved ones, happy that it was finally over. However the king of their own kingdom had seen the power that they wielded and believed that it would not be long before they demanded the throne for themselves. Desperate to keep hold of his position he sent his newly minted armies to kill the Seekers. It was a surprisingly effective plan, most of the Seekers were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, some were caught unawares. A handful escaped, Phere was amongst these. She found her fellow Seekers, an easy task now that she could see as she wanted, and brought them together to kill the king.

They split the world between them and made a pact of peace, that they would not seek war against one another and that they would not revisit The Deep Forge and claim the godlike powers within. Phere ruled her kingdom diligently at first, attempting to be a good ruler and use her abilities to aid her people, but as she saw them making the same mistakes time and again, she grew distant. Eventually all she saw were the flaws of her people and she gave up interacting with them. She became paranoid that the other kingdoms would want her gone, and spent most of her time watching them and watching her own people for signs of a potential uprising. Until one day she simply vanished.

Theme Song:Muse - Hysteria

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I am bad at theme songs.

[Sputnik]

Name: The Jack of Blades. Known in its home world as The Assassin, The Right Hand, Knife-In-The-Dark, Carrion and Bladecrafter

Gender: None, but was created with a masculine personality

Race: Demon/Magical Construct

Color:Dark Red

Description: A slender humanoid figure with gangly limbs. It is 7'1", wearing tarnished bronze armor and a thick, tattered crimson cloak. Its face, and any parts of its body that are exposed is wrapped in linen strips, yellowed with age and inscribed with spidery runes. There is a hole on its face that reveals a large red eye in the center. It does not speak, but communicates through a form of telepathy, speaking directly to any sapient being inside their own mind. It does have a mouth, though, a too-wide maw of needle-like teeth and a snaky tongue which it uses to consume the life force of its foes and to intimidate, when need be.

The Jack of Blades is taciturn to the point of speaking short, laconic sentences. The Jack is a warrior, first and foremost, and does not give quarter to those it sees as its foes. This does not mean that it attacks indiscriminately, but it will negotiate with those it deems to be adequate threats to its person. Mostly, the Jack keeps to itself, appearing to others only to negotiate, to accept a mission or to fight.

The Jack is known for being utterly merciless and ruthless, resorting to underhanded tricks to best stronger foes. It doesn’t show mercy, except when it would be in its best interests.

Weapons and Abilities: The Jack is stronger, more resilient and faster than any normal human being. His single red eye is unhindered by darkness, and the Jack has excellent hearing. The Jack has the ability to teleport 4 meters away in any direction, causing a loud cracking sound and a smell reminiscent of fire as he does so. It can manifest ethereal blades, ranging from the tiniest dagger to the largest greatsword. It can create less stable versions of these blades, which the The Jack of Blades uses as projectile weapons, hurling themselves at enemies.

The Jack of Blades is proficient with any weapon it creates, and can destroy any of its manifested blades with a thought. The Jack of Blades has a minor enchantment that enables it to remain completely silent when it wishes to. As a Demon and a Magical Construct, the Jack of Blades is blessed with rapid regeneration from mundane damage and can consume the life force of a fallen foe to hasten this process, or to regenerate damage from supernatural sources.

Biography: The Jack of Blades was originally a minor demon, content to spread wanton destruction in the material world. It was captured by Binder Anystrazya in the Dawn War, and twisted into its current form to serve as her assassin and her protector. When Anystrazya was slain by her lover, Binder Nymra, The Jack of Blades continued to serve her until the end of the war, where Nymra was killed destroying the Emperor's Throne, an immensely powerful magical artifact.

The magical blast permanently destroyed one of the Jack's enchantments, specifically the one that bound it to any master. The Jack of Blades then spent two centuries carving a bloody path through the Empire, systematically dismantling the corrupt Empire as per its last mistress's wish. When it was finished, the Jack of Blades was content to wander the base earth as a mercenary, hiring its arsenal of swords to anyone who would pay.

Theme Song: Dance of Thorns

((When I talk about its unstable sword thingies, think of the sword spell from Fable 2. The one that conjures golden swords that fly at enemies and such.))

[MrGuy]

Name: Doplio

Gender: N/A. "It" is probably the best way to describe it.

Font colour: #8B668B

Race: Fungus

Weapons: Naturally produces caustic puddles; can mimic teeth and claws

Abilities: Able to copy the form of other living beings, as detailed below.

Description: In its natural form, resembles a grayish-purple moss. Otherwise, functionally identical to whatever it copies in terms of visual appearance. Tends to manifest pseudopods/limbs and various varieties of eye, simply for convenience.

Biography:

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Aspergillus dopliospium was first recorded in the year 4254, having developed on a planet that had been terraformed for experimental purposes roughly 2000 years earlier. The environment varied wildly, and satellites often bombarded the planet with intense radiation, so that both mutations and natural selection would be maximized. When the research team came to investigate, most of the planet appeared as expected (if one can really have "expectations" for such a thing), except for a 60-meter area around a small cave in a forest. At first, it seemed perfectly ordinary-- many different species, some evidently carnivorous, some evidently herbivorous. However, one of the team spotted a strange orange liquid, both caustic (pH 12. and poisonous; this made it rather odd that the animals seemed to take no steps to avoid it, often slogging right through it with practically no harm evident. Further investigation found that the apparent carnivores never ate any herbivores, and for that matter, there didn't seem to be much consumption of plant life either. In fact, inside a certain radius, no animal could be observed eating anything whatsoever.

Due to the mysterious conditions, the entire area was designated Threat Level 6~8, "Potential For Very High Danger." The team quickly did their best to escape, with the very one who had discovered the mysterious toxin not noticing the spores that had crept into his suit. A few weeks passed, with that one oddly silent; eventually, the medic went to check on him. Immediately upon entering the room, he discovered several pools of the orange liquid throughout, as well as mold coating the walls. Luckily for the astronauts, he was able to activate the emergency recording unit, allowing the rest of the team to see the mold bearing down on him, coating his body, and nearly devouring him. The captain barged in and blasted it with a phaser, only to find two medics standing there before him. Determining which was real was simple enough; when he posed a question, one answered in perfect English, the other in nothing but a strange gurgling noise. The mold, along with the copies it had made, were quickly eradicated from the ship, save for a small sample placed in an airtight container to be considered for military purposes. Tests were performed on the mold for years, and over time, it gained a slight grasp of language, enough to speak when given vocal cords; but before it could be fully developed as a feasible bioweapon, it disappeared mysteriously, leading to theories of espionage...

Theme Song: Serris Battle

CLARIFICATION OF ABILITIES

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Aspergillus dopliospium duplicates other creatures, as far as scientists can tell, like a retrovirus in reverse: it takes a DNA sample, "adds it" to the DNA already present in a cell, and replicates from there. The important thing to note is that Doplio can only copy intrinsic abilities. For example:
-- Copying someone with intrinsic magical ability would convey it. Copying someone who had to study to gain it would not.
-- Copying a zombie created through necromancy, nanites, etc. would result in a copy of the person's living form. Copying a zombie created through a virus or parasite would result in a copy of their zombified form.
-- Copying a martial artist could allow Doplio to replicate their musculature with a bit of effort, but would not grant it their techniques.
-- Copying, for example, Superman or Spider-Man would convey superpowers, given that they stem from their alien/mutant DNA. Copying, for example, Green Lantern would not, since his power comes from an outside source.
-- Copying non-organic creatures, e.g. robots and golems, is right out. Copying a cyborg or something similar would result in the form they would have without cybernetics.

[fluxus]

Name: Ivan Norst
Gender: Male
Race: Human (?) hybrid
Color: I DONT KNOW HOW TO USE COLOR
Description: Ivan is a severely intelligent young man who believes firmly in being underestimated. He seems to have an unending store of nervous energy and is constantly fidgeting with his hands or adjusting his glasses. Quick to smile and laugh, it would surprise most to learn that he is actually a competent strategist despite the fact that he is very slow to act. He is motivated almost exclusively by a sense of self-preservation that was developed over the last year due to a particularly nasty run-in with an organization that exists outside the bounds of the American government. He masks his motivations with a demeanor of childlike innocence.

At twenty years of age, Ivan has the appearance of a boy who has grown far too much in a short period of time. He stands at about 5’11, his limbs long and awkward hanging from his skinny form. With dull brown hair and grey eyes set heavily-lidded into an almost ashy olive complexion, at first glance his physical appearance is not particularly striking. But with kind eyes, a charming smile, and strong oratorical skills, he knows how to get what he wants.

Biography:

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At the age of eleven, Ivan was involved in a terrible car accident that killed his sister and left him with severe bodily injuries. However, due to the fact that minimal wreckage other than the Norst’s totaled car was recovered, the details regarding the true nature of the crash remain elusive. A good majority of Ivan's childhood was defined by hospital stays and overbearing parental guardianship that forced him to mature more quickly than most. The time he missed attending school was quickly made up for by a combination of his inherent knack for mathematics and a private tutor.

Ivan had been enrolled at Stanford University’s School of Engineering for a year and a half before CARET approached him. CARET, an acronym for the “Commercial Applications Research for Extra-Terrestrial Technology”, expressed interest in his ability as an engineer and offered an internship which he was ‘encouraged’ not to refuse. Deep beneath the parking lot of an unleased office building in Palo Alto, California was where Ivan first became acquainted with the research of CARET and the idea of extra-terrestrial beings. He became privy to the ‘Autians’, a people who supposedly called the planet 61 Virginis b their home and with whose technology CARET was primarily working.

It was not long, however, before less emphasis was placed on Ivan’s skills as an engineer and more on his apparent aptitude for understanding and using Autian tech. He began to be subjected to a variety of medical examinations, at first disguised as mandatory physicals. But it soon became evident that the tests were far more extensive than what was strictly protocol when the scalpels made their appearance.

Ivan planned his escape from CARET for two months before he had the opportunity to run. After discovering his absence and the disappearance of certain artifacts valuable to their research, CARET sent out a squad of agents to scour the country for him when he was not found in the surrounding California area. To the public sector, Ivan Norst was deemed legally dead.

It was during his cross-country flee that Ivan was recruited to join the Vivacious Deadlock.

Weapons and Abililities:

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The accident in which Ivan was involved nine years previously left him sporting an extra pair of chromosomes and a slew of genetic irregularities to which he was entirely ignorant. The effect laid dormant in his system until he was exposed to a high amount of geomantic energy during his freshman year of college which caused him to exhibit minor yet unusual sensory capabilities that were similar to the species of extra-terrestrial beings studied by CARET. Although a great deal of them remain untapped, Ivan is able to successfully wield a few of his ‘foreign’ talents, if only to a limited degree.

Because they only possess two types of retinal cone cells, the Autians’ vision is similar to that of humans who are red-green colorblind. Oblong pupils allow for powerful peripheral vision but limit optical efficiency to relatively bright light. Depth perception is restricted beyond a few hundred feet. Because of this the Autians evolved to ‘hear’ and ‘see’ through reading vibrations in the surrounding landscape with sensitive nerves located in the hands and feet, creating a mental map that can be utilized even in utter darkness. (Ivan is often barefoot because of this.) They are particularly attuned to the flow of geomantic energy and can, to a very narrow extent, manipulate magnetic fields.

A species whose focus lies primarily on mental proficiency, the Autians are generally slight of build and physically weak but quick to move and silent as anything. Their brain capacity is much greater and more compartmentalized than their human kin which allows for a mathematical prowess rivaled only by modern human computers. Precision comes naturally to the Autians and allows them to determine distances and angles almost exactly with limited mental exertion, but only within a few hundred feet if they are relying on eyesight alone.

These attributes contributed to the development of their technological ‘language’, to which Ivan was exposed during his time spent in CARET’s facilities. The code is a complex series of symbols that, when accurately composed on receptive material and coupled with an appropriately charged field, can be used to manipulate the physical properties of said material.

Ivan is aware that he possesses these abilities and although his mental faculty is more akin to that of a human than to an Autian, he has an extensive knowledge of the Autian ‘language’. Always equipped with a particularly expensive carbon fiber pen that he stole from CARET, he is eager to hone his skills.

Theme Song:
Out at the Pictures - Hot Chip

[BlastYoBoots]

RESERVE???


Name: Rachel Brooks ("Freefall")
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Color: Indigo <#7474FF> (with occasional, varying backgrounds)

Description: 5'7", caucasian, 17 years old, black hair (long, tied back), dark brown eyes. Thinly muscular, almost gaunt at a glance. Has large, permanent black eye on left, due to when her powers fully awakened. Currently wearing a thick brown jacket and jeans over her full-body suit.

Rather short-spoken and belligerent, she would rather solve a problem with her fists than put up with more than a minute's worth of discussion and dithering. Cold, somewhat irritated demeanor (much of it for show). Impulsive if provoked, but used to making sacrifices to survive, especially of herself. Fighting puts her in a decent mood, and flying much moreso. Hides her enjoyment outside fights, unless attempting intimidation (a favorite tactic).

Weapons: Super-lightweight elastic suit (full-body, neck down), used for protection when lightweight without interfering with buoyancy, and durability when fighting at high-density. Has lightweight metal alloy plating knuckles and feet, to assist/withstand her attacks. Also contains built-in team communicator (now obviously useless) and a small pack of sealant for repairing cuts caused by bullets/knives/blades. Colored dark-blue with wide indigo stripe down center, to fit ability colors + camouflage in night sky. Round eagle emblem (team symbol) over the heart, in the same color scheme. Clothes typically worn over suit when not fighting.

Powers: Density manipulation (self)

Can manipulate her body's density at will without changing her shape, effectively increasing or decreasing her weight and durability.

Normal density: 115 lbs
At min density: ~0.05 lbs (with suit), lighter than air, exposed skin could be cut by windblown leaves
At high density: ~1,305 lbs, stone-hard (densest possible without losing mobility)
At max density: ~2,530 lbs, steel-hard, highly reduced mobility (movements 1/4 normal speed)

Stone/steel-hard states make her much more durable than an equivalent amount of stone/steel in practice, due to skin/bone elasticity, etc. Max-density, while slow, allots the largest amount of strength on her part; despite lacking the ability to provide much inertia in this state, she could (for instance) more easily bend or twist a metal beam from rest than otherwise. (Think slow but nigh-unstoppable motion.)

Low-density, while making her extremely vulnerable, allows her to float and rise in air. This is not controlled flight; direction is often dependent on wind, initial pushoff, and chosen density. Supporting objects of any real heft is out of the question.

Typical uses include:
- Jumping off the ground to ascend quickly at low-density, then descending at max-density onto a target, slamming down with legs for heavy impact.
- Fistfighting at high-density.
- Walking through gunfire at/near max-density. (Doesn't prevent some suit damage, eyes must be shielded w/ hand.)

Increasing density is her body's instinctive response to damage. Receiving a heavy blow while "light" would cause her to quickly go heavier before the damage spread, making the hit grievous and debilitating rather than fatal. This is a temporary, involuntary response; she must be conscious to keep maintaining a state of abnormal density.

Skin and eye-whites take on light indigo colors when lighter than normal, and dark blue colors when denser. Voice depth/resonance also changes (min) somewhat (norm) between (high) states (max), when her ability is active.

Skills:
~3.5 years exp - underground boxing (bare-knuckle)
~3 months exp - team-based superheroing/crimefighting

Biography: Grew up orphaned in an urban area, troublemaker. Would often get in fights. At 14, started participating in underground boxing, and subconsciously used her undeveloped ability to help her. Received hard blow to her left eye in the fight where her powers awakened, saved her; resulting black eye has persisted, and is unhealable. Scouted by local team of teenage superheroes shortly after awakening, given hero nickname "Freefall" (goes by this exclusively). Was still acclimating to new team/lifestyle (and it to her), but greatly enjoys it; has become convinced that her life operates like a comic book, and has so far been proven right.

Theme Song: Storm Eagle's stage - Megaman X

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oh god I am so scared this is my first time, are the colors okay? The background color stuff? Is there any problem whatsoever aaaaaaa

[The Dr.]

This may or may not be a reservation for a character sheet placed somewhere within this post righ-'ere.

[gloomyMoron]

Same as Godbot above. Because FUCK, I need to get back to writing. Seriously this time. *sigh*

[Aryogaton]

Eep, didn't notice this started.




Name: The Blank
Gender: Technically genderless, but since most assume he’s male, he adopts it for simplicity’s sake.
Species: Diplomatic construct/artificial human
Color: #888888 on #FFFFFF

Weapons/Abilities: Blank’s defining ability is to passively absorb knowledge from any viable source around him, including living beings. This means that, after a few minutes, Blank will learn extensively about the backstories, abilities, etc. of nearby characters, data-storage devices, etc. This extends to simple objects and machinery, where Blank can learn its properties or inner workings. Blank cannot stop using this power, and if he spends too long with a certain character, then that character’s personality may begin to influence him.

The knowledge-absorbing power extends weakly to abilities, such that after a while, Blank would gain some of the abilities of the people around him. However, this only extends to non-character-specific abilities (strength, marksmanship, ritual magic, etc.); abilities that Blank would not be capable of after potentially intense training (innate magic, godlike abilities, item-specific abilities, etc.) Robots and other artificial beings are treated as objects, and Blank can’t learn anything other than knowledge from them.

Description: On the outside, Blank looks like a lanky, pale, and bald human, of ambiguous age, gender, and descent. He wears a simple white shirt and pants, which effectively makes him practically entirely monochrome. On his personality, Blank is very much pacifistic, overwhelmingly preferring to discuss and solve a conflict rather than end it with physical force—not that he has much of it, except in rather specific circumstances. He is designed to get along with any single character he meets, which is usually made possible because of his knowledge-absorbing power. In order to do this effectively, Blank alters his personality to match that of the character he wants to be friendly with.

Blank refuses to use or share most of the knowledge he absorbs, mostly to respect the characters’ privacy and to avoid generating conflicts. He will make exceptions when his or other people’s lives are in danger, or if the situation demands it. He often shares his own backstory as compensation for absorbing someone else’s.

Biography: In a human’s imagination, advanced aliens exist as warlike imperialists, entities we cannot comprehend, or otherwise beings that are rightfully entitled to their superiority, a fact that they must know and that we must fear.

The reality is quite far from such fantasies. The alien society that has visited Earth is, indeed, quite advanced and has surpassed the societal and technological limitations that humans struggle with. However, rather than the clearly superior mindset we imagine they have, it is they who fear us.

They have been watching for much of modern history, and have been eager to make peaceful arrangements for the betterment of both civilizations. However, the warlike and self-destructive tendencies of the human being have seeded paranoia.

If they do not hesitate to destroy themselves, what will make them hesitate to destroy us? We must be prudent! We must show them that we are not the imperialists depicted in their legends. Cooperation is vital!

Thus, they waited. They waited for a time when human civilization had made peace with itself. However, such a time never came. It began to seem clear that active intervention was necessary, yet the fear that the humans would declare war on such a strange and unfamiliar civilization held steadfast.

So they created an ambassador. It was designed to dissolve any violent tendencies of humans it met, and to sow the beginnings of a true interspecies friendship. But most of all, it was designed to be human, to be familiar and true to human culture, accomplishing what the aliens fear they cannot.

The first phase was, of course, developing a familiarity with human culture. The ambassador lived and traveled anonymously, until it deemed it knew enough to begin diplomacy. Getting the attention of every sovereign leader was rather simple, and the lack of any cultural or linguistic limitation made communication smooth.

But there was one flaw. In attempting to be as human as possible, the ambassador had developed something of an uncanny omniscience. It was a subtle aspect that wasn’t quite right, a basic instinct of humans that saw unnatural a certain aspect that all humans are supposed to lack: perfection.

And then he disappeared.

[Davok]

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Name: Erasmus Sothling de Coy, Grand Duke of Cavelàn, High Councillor of the Riddanak, The Despairer, The Innumerable Savage, Avarice of Kings. (commonly refers to himself as "Avarice")
Gender: Male
Race: Nightmarish Being
Color: This one here.
Description: Festering on the top of the bulbous head of Avarice is a shining bronze crown of thorns, pricking and tearing at the raggedy assortment of flesh and bone and hair. Innumerably scabbed over and dried blow flows down anew down his asymmetrical face and covers his thin, listless eyes that stare with a lazy reptilian gaze at his surroundings. Three mismatched ears are scattered on either side of his round bulb of a head and his singular slit of a nose pokes down like a horrid gill down to his cavernous maw. Imprinted upon his ragged sandpapery skin is a dark golden tattoo that shifts around his face constantly into new pagan visages of horror and sin. Jagged and rotten teeth gape out of his treacherous maw, revealing a nothing but a dark blackened void at the bottom of his massive throat. Jutting out of the abyss is his tongue, encased in silver and preventing him from communicating vocally. His body is long and slender, seemingly almost incapable of carrying such a large mass of a head, with the smell of rotting flesh preeminent around his body. He bears tattoos here, too, but static, passively displaying various horrific scenes beyond man's imagining. Around his neck is a weighty golden chain which eternally limits his stature to a humble stoop, and around his body he draws a pitch black cloak around himself, huddling in it as if for warmth. He has seven deformed, insectoid arms, yet only one bears an actual hand. It is a large, cumbersome three-fingered thing jutting out of his chest from beneath the chain and which he uses for grasping. The other six are aligned on either side of his monstrous body, the only symmetry to be found in this most dreadful creature. They are long and insectoid like the one that bears his hand, yet abruptly and violently jutting out of them are long, razor sharp lances of bone which he wields with deadly efficiency. His legs are long and he strides long and purposefully across his environment. On his feet there are red-hot iron boots which go up to his ankles, and that are eternally burning with heat, leaving small imprints of flame wherever he walks.
Weapons and Abililities: His long needle-like bone lances form his main weapon to resort to when in the constant conflicts he is so readily accustomed, frequently skewering his foes on two of his deadly instruments. Another threat for which enemies are so unfortunately unprepared for is his dagger-like silver tongue: it's sharp razor point and it's surprising length and flexibility strangles it's victims before slitting open their throats or skewering them with one of his many lances. His deadly maw is something to be wary of, as well, able to open to ridiculous amounts and often swallowing his smaller enemies whole, and if not can extrude a horrendous downpour of acidic vomit. But Avarice's real gifts lie not in his physical efficiency or strength, but rather in the innate metaphysical abilities available to him through his disturbing heritage. He is extremely clever and experienced in his innate ability to psychically slither into an opponent's mind and turn their own psychology against them. Such an ability is invaluable in his ability to produce hallucinations, mirages and mental illusions in order to confuse or startle his foes. Rather than being a form of exterior magic, Avarice triggers the unwitting opponent's mind to see these images, though of course in an opponent with a strong enough mind these illusions can be extremely limited. His powers are largely reliant on such unwitting cooperation; he can play with, not change the mind he is persuading. This ability also lends itself to a limited form of mind reading, which seeing as he communicates psychically isn't that hard of a task to do.
Biography: The Realm of Avalon is a plane at constant flux; a patchwork plane of innumerable kingdoms, dukedoms and merchant republics constantly striving for dominance over one another. The plane itself borders closely on the edge of reality, and the amount of activity in place in the realm causes them to ripple out into the great Unknown and into the dreams and nightmares of the corporeal. The Avalonians are far from ignorant of this, and so the stronger civilizations in their strive for supremacy have come to meddling in the dreams of mortals, a practice which they delight in.

The Riddanak are a parasitic race of nightmares born from the very meddling which the sovereign powers of the realm have partaken. They slide in and out of the dreams of beings and render them to the point of insanity with their horrific anatomy and immense savagery. Besides this adeptness at slithering into mortal dreams, the Riddanak are hardly an influence in global affairs, hardly constituting a sovereign state
but rather a series of makeshift tribes and clans. They are recruited frequently by the sovereign powers of the realm for specific missions usually regarding assassinations.

It is here, that, as a result of the assassination of a particular pregnant concubine of the great Empire of Faerie, the Riddanak would birth the greatest nightmare of them all.

The manner of Erasmus Sothling de Coy's birth is unknown, for he no doubt had been a "being" far before his physical birth out of the corpse of the dead concubine, perhaps as a wandering thought or nightmare that managed to cling to the last anguished cries of death and attach itself to the rotting fetus of the dead mother. It is here that, in such humble parasitic beginnings, that Avarice did feed upon the physical remnants of the dead mother and so grow into the monster that you see before you today.

As he walked, he fed, mostly from the long-decaying residents of the graveyard he was spawned and then moving on towards much greener pastures. He possessed a devious and wicked intelligence, and as he moved from town to town in search of the elusive Riddanak many women and children would disappear from their homes and hovels and never be seen again. Avarice had a full stomach, and with that he eventually found what he seeked.

It is still a mystery how he decided to follow the path of the Riddanak; perhaps the last plaintive cries of the dead mother had given him an image of which to follow. Perhaps he already had a pre-set goal in mind since his beginning.

However, he found the Riddanak who had slain the pregnant concubine; none other than the Chief of the Cavenish Clan, one of the most prestigious of the Riddanak clans for it's ruthlessness and efficiency. Avarice killed the chief and promptly devoured him,
declaring himself Chief. His strength and cleverness caused many among the Cavenish to admire this mysterious stranger who had come out of nowhere and slain their mighty chief, and followed him. Partisans loyal to the original Chief rose up but were quickly and brutally suppressed. Avarice was proclaimed Coy, War Chief and indisputable leader of the Cavenish people.

Avarice then set about uniting all the Riddanak through fire and sword.

The neighboring mercenary clans loyal to the old regime assaulted the new Coy's organization, and after nine hard and bloody battles they would bow to this outsider as well. Avarice then proclaimed himself Sothling, High Coy and Imperator of all the clans. This was not welcome by the other tribal sothlings who had laid claim to the title, but the Innumerable Savage was unlimited in his ferocity and decapitated them all on their own thrones. He was now Erasmus, the Soth of Sothlings, Coy of Coys, and nothing could stand in his way. The great civilizations of Avalon were next, and their wealth and bounty would yield to him as the tribes of the Riddanak had yielded. Nothing would ever be the same.

And then he disappeared.

Sorry for the rushed and slapdash biography, I was kind of in a rush so I couldn't really add much depth to it.

[Pick Yer Poison]

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