Mini-Grand Organization Thread

[Pinary]

Across the multiverse, beings of immeasurable power gathered specimens for their competitions- the Grand Battles. Eight contestants (usually), seven rounds (give or take), and more death and destruction than one could shake a typical stick at.

In one rather unremarkable universe among the possibly infinite number making up this multiverse, there was just about nothing. Nearly everything in that universe wasn't even so much as made up of matter, let alone matter taking up space or occupying time. It was all very empty, devoid of even a bit of nothingness to keep the small bit of stuff that actually was stuff company.

The small bit of stuff that actually was stuff was, to be a tad less vague, a computer. Programmed by someone in some language for some reason, it had precisely two functions: primarily, it was designed to simulate, in a regulated and orderly environment, a large number of Grand Battle-like competitions. Its algorithms were efficient, its functions were streamlined, and its ability to generate characters and rounds was comparable to those found in battles more real and less simulated.

Its secondary function was to describe itself (in the third person), then begin.

Secondary function complete...

Executing primary function...

Welcome to the Mini-Grands! These are smaller versions of the Grand Battles, a set of collaborative writing games in which eight characters fight to the death, transported to a new setting for each round. Each round ends with the death of a character, which is decided not by that character's particular skill at fighting by by their writer's skill at writing.

GBs are not your typical RPs- while a writer is primarily responsible for one character, they're not forced to write exclusively just for them. Writing for multiple characters is not only allowed, it's encouraged- just make sure to keep them in-character. A character's writer has final say over what their character does, but as long as it's kept reasonably justifiable, it's probably fine.

To avoid people writing conflicting posts simultaneously, if you're about to start writing, just post "Reserved" in your battle. If someone's reserved, you should wait for them to finish their post. Generally, if a reserve is more than a day or two old, you'll be within your rights to bypass it and post over it.

Now, Mini-Grands are, as I've said, smaller. These feature just four characters, three rounds, and a few restrictions.
-First, a word-per-post limit. In the first round, posts are limited to 500 words long, followed by 750 for the second and 1000 for the third. (Each writer may, however, make one post per round that's up to double the limit.)
-Each round will be up to about one month long. If a round hits that point and the story is still ramping up, it gets cut off.
"But Pines," you may or may not be saying, "that sounds fairly restrictive!" Well duh, they're restrictions. They're here to keep things quick and light, as well as to encourage players to collaborate on things they want to make happen. If you think these are too much (or, in some strange universe, too little), come have a chat on IRC over in #grandbattle.

In addition, these Mini-Grands are astoundingly non-canon. They're even less canon than even non-canon GB spinoffs. They're just simulations on a computer, after all. This means that you're free to use existing characters here (your own, of course, or with the original author's permission), as well as take your character from one of these and drop them in a canon battle. Do try to keep this to a minimum, though.

Once four Mini-Grands are finished, they'll probably have their contestants thrown together into a Mini-All-Stars battle or some such. More information as this story develops.

One last thing- keep in mind that these things are designed to be quick and disposable. Experimentation is encouraged- try something new or interesting, something you're not sure would fly in a full GB (or maybe something you just don't don't want to write for a full battle.)

Mini-Grands are small. Mini-Grands are experimental. Mini-Grands are starting now.

List of Mini-Grands
5101 - Solaris, Lankie, Ixcalibur, BlastYoBoots (Pinary hosting)
5102 - Pick Yer Poison, Engineclock, Pharmacy, cyber95 (Pinary hosting)
5103 - TimeothyHour, Anomaly, Agent1022, Schazer, Dragon Fogel (Pinary hosting)
5104 - Lord Paradise, Bluesunnyday, Ixcalibur, Pick Yer Poison (Dragon Fogel hosting)
5105 - TimeothyHour, cyber95, Pick Yer Poison, Wojjan, Niall (Agent1022 hosting)
5106 - engineclock, Dwayna DragonFire, Ixcaliber, Protoman (Wojjan hosting)
5107 - ch00_bakka, BlastYoBoots, Solaris, Drakenforge (Niall hosting)
5108 - ~ATH, shieldman, Ixcalibur, Solaris (Anomaly hosting)
5109 - Solaris, Jacquerel, engineclock, Ch00_bakka (Ixcalibur hosting)
5110 - Dragon Fogel, Ixcalibur, Agent1022, kabbage (Solaris hosting)
5111 - Pick Yer Poison, Solaris, Pharmacy, Ixcalibur (Sanzh hosting)

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To submit a character, post their profile here, in this thread. It'll be paired up with three others and re-posted in the first post of the particular Mini-Grand's thread.

Character Profile (Please keep it under 1000 words or so, if possible.)

[b]Username[/b]:
[b]Name[/b]: (Your character's name)
[b]Gender[/b]: 
[b]Race[/b]: (Include a brief description if it's not blatantly obvious.)
[b]Colour[/b]: (The colour you'll write your posts in. No tags other than [color], and no using plain black. Please avoid eye-searing.)
[b]Biography[/b]: 
[b]Description[/b]: (Physical, mental, emotional, the whole deal.)
[b]Items/Abilities[/b]: (Things they do/have/are that make them suited for a battle to the death.)

(Questions or comments about how this works? Got an idea you want to bounce off someone? Want to run a future Mini-Grand? Come have a chat on IRC in #grandbattle, and all your questions will be answered.)

[Solaris]

As seen in 5101

Username: Solaris
Name: Kekarie

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Gender: None, but I guess it would answer to male.
Race: Ancient Wind Spirit, birdlike, created at the beginning of the universe, as far as it knows, the only one of it's kind.
Colour: Pretty Dark Yellow that is Hex code #B2A807
Biography: After the creation of the universe, this creature was whisked into existence by a god. Its job was to just protect the forest, and that was a pretty easy job. At the time, there wasn't really anything threatening around (to the forest as large at least), so it had a nice time just hanging out in the forest, talking to plants and animals, and not really having to deal with anything that was sentient enough to disturb the natural order of things. So, one day, it just fell asleep... for a few thousand years.
When it woke up it was thoroughly confused, didn't really know what to do with itself, until it was led to some village of humans by some nice trees. At first they were deathly afraid, but one village elder knew of the Wind Spirit's legend, told it its own name, and begged for help with the loggers that were about to destroy the forest. Remembering its purpose, it set off do just that, albeit in an indirect way.
Unfortunately, this led to tragedy, when in a fit of unjustified rage, the loggers set the forest near the village on fire while they worked on another side of it. Kekarie was similarly enraged, and for the first time in it's entire life it flipped out, leaving the workers scarred and injured and completely unable to remember what had happened. The following morning, the villagers tried to find the wind spirit, but it was gone.

Description: 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, because for the time that its been active, it didn't really have to do much. It acts a bit dumber than it lets on, and it doesn't speak at all unless absolutely necessary. However, if it gets enraged enough, it will show it's full god granted elemental power.

Items/Abilities: 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.

[Lankie]

Username: Lankie
Name: Deathwing (also known as Claus Everett)
Gender: Male
Race: Human/Cyborg
Colour 'deepskyblue' according to tags

Biography: Since a young age, Claus had been involved in war. His homelands belonged to a vast, technologically advanced empire with a ruthless conscript programme. Children as young as 12 would be collected and 'upgraded' into cybernetic soldiers, to further push the machine empires wish of global domination into a reality.

Unlike most others of his age, Claus revelled in the idea of becoming a soldier and welcomed the gruesome transformation with open arms. His enthusiasm continued in his days of a soldier, showing a natural talent for warfare and murder. He managed to out live the vast majority of average conscripts by years and loved every minute of it. It wasn't until 13 years later would his commanding officers would take notice of Claus' talents.

Claus was granted an audience with the Eternal Emperor himself and offered the long due promotion to 'Vanguard', the Emperors elite squadron of unstoppable knights. Naturally, Claus accepted straight away. His standard cyborg implementations were stripped away and replaced with something much more befitting the emperors personal guard; advanced shielding, the deadliest weaponry and grand metallic wings. Claus abandoned his name for something more befitting his terrifying appearance.

And so the scourge of the skies, Deathwing, was born.

Description: Deathwing complexion is sickly white with jet black hair, his left eye a dull grey, while his other replaced with a cold, metallic construct with a single, piercing blue light. Both arms have been replaced with robotic limbs, his left arm bears only a large cannon to fire destructive energy bolts. His legs remain intact, albeit clad in gadget riddled boots. A large glowing core is embossed into Deathwing's chest, hidden by a large cloak. Deathwing sports six huge, metallic wings upon his back, skeletal in shape; they serve as extensions of Deathwing's body and may freely move them as if an arm. On his back there is a slender cast of metal which acts as a jet pack.

Deathwing is a demented being, taking a grand amount of pleasure in the pain and suffering of others. Despite his skill as a killer, he is in actuality quite the moron, he was never really suited to his general like position and prefers a simple 'fragfest' to complex tactics. He is most definitely an advocate of brute strength, overpowering his enemies with unrelenting firepower. Should things not go his way he is quick to become irritated and even more stupid. Despite his violent tendencies, he quite the talkative fellow, and loves a good old fashioned monologue when the chance presents itself.

Items/Abilities: Despite being named 'Deathwing', his wings are in fact, mostly aesthetic, they are far too thin for actual flight. His airborne ability comes from a jet pack attached to his back, allowing him quick and controlled flight with relative ease. That is not to say the wings aren’t completely useless, Deathwing can manoeuvre them as an effective stabbing weapon if needs be.

Deathwing's main weapon is the 'death cannon' which is his left arm. This huge gun fires globes of pure energy which explode violently on impact. The rate of fire of the cannon is impressively fast, ensuring swift, immediate destruction at any time. Unfortunately, such a powerful weapon has a drawback; it overheats spectacularly fast, Deathwing could only fire a volley six or seven blasts before the cannon would effectively burst into flames. Cool down generally lasts about three or four minutes.

Deathwing's general cybernetic implants provide him with the stamina, strength and speed of 3 men put into one. However should his core get severely damaged enough, his implants and life support would shut down, followed by his death in about 5 minutes.

[Ixcalibur]

USED IN MINI-GRAND 5101

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Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Bartleby Finch
Gender: Male
Race: Flux

The Flux are an alien race whose DNA is incredibly unstable. This instability manifests itself upon the point of death wherein their entire body will be rebuilt from scratch and they will be fine. Most Flux are because of this effectively immortal, the only things that can kill them being the complete destruction of their body or old age. When their body rebuilds itself it seldom looks anything like how it started, varying incredibly from one incarnation to the next. Each individual Flux has markers that remain constant from one incarnation to the next, identifiers that enable other Flux to tell one another apart. As a species they have a very relaxed attitude to death, and a very low murder rate.

Colour: Whatever this colour is. Brown i guess.
Biography: Bartleby is unique amongst his race, his DNA being even more unstable than that of his peers. It possesses the unique quality that it does not wait for death to begin rebuilding his body. Allowing this to happen would cause him to rapidly disintegrate until all that was left of his body was an unsightly mush. The only way to prevent this process is to die regularly, at least once every hour and a half. Various Flux scientists have been working on a way of stabilising his DNA for years, and were in fact approaching a major breakthrough before Bartleby was taken off to be part of a Grand Battle.

Description: The one constant throughout Bartleby’s many forms is that his hair (or fur) is always strawberry blonde, and his skin pale white. At the time that he was taken Bartleby was relatively humanoid; the only real difference being that he had an extra pair of arms, composite eyes taking up half the size of his face, nostrils but no nose, and mandibles. He is about nineteen years old. He typically wears t-shirts and jeans, or whatever the equivalent of this is for the species that he is, as these are easy simple clothes that he can just pull on after regenerating.
Due to his condition Bartleby no longer fears death, and can actually be quite brave when he wants to be. He is somewhat reckless because his life is kind of shit and he doesn’t really have much incentive to keep hold of it, though he would not give it up voluntarily. He is always kind of rude and ill-tempered because he does not get much sleep because he has to get up every two hours to kill himself.

Items/Abilities: As noted above when he dies he regenerates into another form. He carries with him a backpack full of clothing appropriate for the forms he seems to regenerate into most often, and a knife for emergency suicides. He was not chosen for his fighting skills but for the fact that he is hard to kill. Well hard to kill and make stay dead at any rate.

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[BlastYoBoots]

USED IN MINI-GRAND 5101

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Username: BlastYoBoots
Name: Nathan Gabriel Xander ("nateXtrem")
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Colour: #224B07

Description: Tall 23-year-old Caucasian male, with semi-athletic build and a round chin. Short black spiky hair, and pink eyes (via nano-dye augmentation when he was 15; purely aesthetic). Wearing a black "GDC '87" t-shirt with a holographic (3D) print of the GDC mascot on the back, a rounded polygonal figure with an upside-down impossible triangle for a head. Also wearing camo cargo pants and a GDC '87 pin shaped like a small, black flying saucer, which has been secretly outfitted with a tiny camera.

Amiable and prone to humor; crowd-pleaser. Loves his job and appreciates his fans; will often sacrifice revenue or break the occasional non-disclosure contract for an occasion to feed his hungry fanbase. In video-games, quite competitive and a completionist. Has a strong appreciation for game design, especially visual and story-wise; knows every video game trope like the back of his hand.

Items/Equipment: Wielding a replica H&K MG 9 ultralight machine gun / automatic rifle, with toggled laser sight, ultra-long-range scope, and nano-reloaded 80-bullet capacity, among other fixings. Not that it needs it, seeing as it is only built to fire an unlimited supply of blanks. Has a similarly modern laser-sighted pistol sidearm at his belt, firing similar blanks. Both look, sound, and fire blanks identically to the originals, save at a reduced volume to avoid any chance of hearing loss by the user (esp. in small quarters). Also at his side is an exact replica serrated combat knife from "Call of Duty 12", engraved "nateXtrem"; it is real, and deadly sharp. The GDC pin mentioned above has a hidden camera Nate installed to avoid screening by the Xilyon Odyssey alpha staff; as a low-power miniature camera, it is only capable of taking 52-Gpx still 3D images, able to display them back on a deployable, floating hardlight-nanomesh display when necessary.

Skills: Expert marksman, through years of competitive VR practice and otherwise. Skilled with a combat knife, through similar means. Moderately athletic, but exceptional at twitch-reactions and dodging, as well as sensing his immediate environment for threats while moving quickly/silently. Basically, a pro-gamer. His PR experience and contract negotiations have also given him a light degree of prowess at social manipulation.

Biography:

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"No phones, no wires, no radio, maxfi, or medialink signals; yes, Mister Xander, even your biolink headset and micro-wallet need to go. We can't trust a non-disclosure agreement alone, given your 'history'."

Nathan and the CEO of Matrix VR-ware had a mutual laugh at his air quotes, here, as he was being stripped of his belongings in a deep back room of the 2087 Game Developers' Conference. "Yeah, I understand. It's just, you know, with 120 million blog followers, it can be-"

"Hard to resist the temptation, yes. Especially given the... uniqueness of what we're about to show you." Uniqueness indeed. Matrix VR had released hit after monumental hit since 2063, when they unexpectedly received the rights to resurrect the long-dead "Call of Duty" franchise in a virtual reality game. Contrary to everyone's expectations, they truly knocked it out of the park, and have been topping themselves in leaps and bounds ever since. Most unique was their hardware; their experts insisted on custom-tooling the usual VR-sphere hardware, bringing hardlight-nanomesh graphics and sensory-feedback to their most detailed level yet. Their latest game, cryptically codenamed "Xilyon Odyssey", was a total mystery. They'd teamed up with Bandolier Studios, home to some of the best story-writers and procedural-generation experts in the dev business, and then proceeded to spend trillions of credits on this project while keeping everything on a total lockdown. All they said was that it was bound to "redefine gaming" as never before... and most in the know believed them.

Nathan would be the first outsider to see it.

Virtual Reality - forcing participants to compete physically, not just with a rudimentary interface - had turned pro-gaming into a mainstream-channel sport, and Nathan had been swept to the top. His tournament wins and online commentary had made him the go-to source for fans of VR shooters and RPGs. He was even offered star movie roles on multiple occasions, but turned them down, of course. Can't disappoint the fans by being away for filming that long, even if he documented it.

"You think we're impressive?!" the CEO had joked with him, earlier. "You single-handedly brought back pink eyes. I'd be lucky to accomplish something so amazing in a lifetime!"

Matrix was counting on Nathan's exclusive look to kickstart promotion of the game, generating hype to keep their stock up and competitors at bay. As far as they knew, Nathan would give an exclusive multicast on it, after the demo; no visuals, no in-game sound, nothing but his personal account of his impression of Xilyon Odyssey. Little did they know that his GDC pin was a fake, smuggled days before the show and outfitted by a trusted friend with a state-of-the-art miniature camera, perfect for capturing the game's look and feel. Nate hated to do this to a company he loved, but, well... what the fans demand...

He was handed his VR-linked gun replica and sidearm; both rather current weapons, he thought, giving him an idea of the game's setting. "Oh, and I almost forgot," chimed in the CEO, who then made a show of presenting back the knife they'd taken from him at screening. It was the custom-engraved reward he'd received as a teenager, having won his first championship at a Matrix-sponsored global VR tournament; he never took it off his person. "That's right: you can use it in-game. As long as you don't throw it, that is; while it's on your person, there's no danger of damaging the VR-sphere with your swings, even if you embed it in the ground next to you."

"Just remember, Nathan. This exclusive preview only lasts as long as you stay alive. At your first death, we'll shut it down and escort you out. Prepare yourself... this will be unlike any game you have yet experienced."

"I'm ready."

Everything had gone as-planned, or so the CEO thought at first. Nathan walked into the large, custom VR sphere his company had lifted in for the occasion, and the hardlight-nanomesh framework inside whirred-up in a suitably expensive-sounding manner. A countdown had begun, and their soon-to-be award-winning RPG was unleashed into the sphere as normal.

But, oddly, there was no player detected. When they shut everything down and looked inside, Nathan had vanished.

"Well, James," a pale, sweating CEO said to his second-in-command, "I guess it's time to call in the lawyers."

[Pick Yer Poison]

This character has been entered in Mini-Grand 5102.

Name: Janet
Gender: Female
Font color: #8888FF
Race: Poltergeist

Weapons/Abilities: Intangibility and invisibility are common to all ghosts, but as a poltergeist Janet is also able to possess inanimate objects and mess around with them. The extent of her poltergeist-specific powers is limited by the emotional atmosphere in the immediate area. Fear, anger, hate, envy, and other similar emotions provide the biggest boosts, but a high concentration of any emotion can increase her power. When inside an object and granted access to a volatile emotional atmosphere, Janet can cause it to do anything from gain teeth to tap dance, but without the emotional atmosphere she can really only make it move around a bit. Very slowly.

Description: Janet takes the form of a pale blue woman wearing a long, flowing dress. The dress covers where her feet would normally be, and if one looks under it (NAUGHTY NAUGHTY), it becomes apparent that the entire surface of her body is hollow, as if a sheet were draped over some invisible solid object. It ends at about waist height, but the dress covers up the fact that she has no legs. She wears her hair long, and aside from the general ghostliness, is really quite pretty.

Ghosts in Janet's world are much different than ghosts in ours, the biggest difference being that they actually exist. When someone dies, they become a ghost only if they feel they have unfinished business left in the world of the living, and they are granted a ghostly form that will help them finish it. Therefore, the form a person assumes after death tends to be inversely related to the quality of the life they led.

The worst usually comes in the form of Razers, walking suits of armor forged from pure hatred - when you're a ghost, hatred can actually be solid. Razers don't come along often and are the result of someone whose life was a living hell, and whose only desire is revenge in the form of mindless slaughter. They are exceedingly difficult to destroy and more dangerous than a flaming tornado, so it's a good thing they only show once every thousand years or so. It's entirely possible for a ghost's form to degrade and get closer to that of a Razer if they are mistreated, so ghosts tend to garner a good deal of respect from the living, and often enjoy a decent amount of help from authority figures. After all, helping the dead fulfill their final wishes not only lets them rest easy, but it also gives your political image a significant boost.

Janet is a poltergeist, which covers a wide range of ghosts that led crummy but not terribly hellish lives. Poltergeists tend to feel that screwing with people is enough to cover their unfinished business on earth, and nearly all of them have mischievous personalites and, more often than not, a dangerous sense of humor.

Biography: Janet was born in the crowded slums of an unnamed town to two parents who, to be honest, really weren't ready for a baby girl. Her father was an alcoholic and was in general just plain unreliable, and after a gazillion fights they just split apart. Janet's mother vanished from her life when she was seven, leaving her with a father who wasn't even sober most of the time. When she was twelve, Janet felt she had had enough to decide she was better off running away, and left to join the circus, quite literally - she hitched a ride on a carnival train, and was somehow able to convince the circus performers to take her with them.

At first the ringmaster insisted she be dropped off at the next station, as they had no room for dead weight, but when Janet offered to do all the odd jobs nobody else wanted in exchange for food and housing, he agreed. The circus performers quickly took her under their wing, and she spent the next few years of her life learning all sorts of oddball tricks from acrobatics to juggling. The circus was her new family, and while it may have been dysfunctional at best, she saw it as a vast improvement over the life she had led up to then.

She spent four years with the circus before a dwindling budget prompted the ringmaster to disband it. Most of the performers left in groups, but Janet struck off on her own, determined to make herself a life out of her own efforts. She traveled from town to town, finding work where she could, never staying in one place too long. After a close run-in with the local authorities for squatting, she made it her rule to never stay in one place more than a few months, and thus went the next two years of her life.

But then Janet got a bit stupid. She decided to throw herself a little eighteenth birthday bash, and she had a few glasses of wine, with "a few" meaning "at least fourteen." Next thing she knew she was rising out of her grave as a ghost. It's common knowledge that no ghost can remember how they died, nor can they remember a period of 24-48 hours before the event - it's a mental defensive mechanism to keep them from remembering the pain of death. But in her panic, Janet forgot this, and she flew around town in a frenzy, winding up possessing a car and causing it to crash through a storefront. Two police officers who happened to be patrolling the area came in with the standard cop routine, "put your hands behind your head" stuff, and were extremely surprised when an ethereally blue teenage girl threw herself at one of them, winding up passing through the officer and landing in a sobbing heap on the other side of him.

The police officers tried their best to comfort her and brought her back to the station, where the local ghost authority did his best to gently break the news to the frightened girl that she was dead, at which point she possessed his desklamp and started switching it on and off rapidly enough to give him a headache. Unable to coax her out, he called in an exorcist and lit out for the night. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Janet was abducted into this contest before the exorcist arrived on the scene, which led to a few angry phone calls regarding false alarms.

[TimeothyHour]

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CAN ANYONE SAY META-RECURSION?

Username: TimeothyHour

Name: Grand Battle Computational Engine (GBCE)

Gender: None

Race: Computer

Colour: Green

Weapons: The GBCE is armed with a small automatic gun turret in order to protect it while it continues to execute its primary function, and will fire if presented a threat that could harm the computer. It also has other bits of hardware that do various things, such as speakers, a microphone, a camera, and deployable treads if a need ever came about to move to a different universe.

Abilities: Advanced computational abilities and limited sentient AI, coupled with extensive knowledge of Grand Battles and their rules due to its purpose gives the GBCE an informational advantage over other contestants. Other than that, it’s a pretty standard supercomputer.

Description: The GBCE was not designed to look elegant. Exposed wires, pieces of normal indecipherable hardware, and letters written in a strange, alien language are strewn all over and around the GBCE orb-shaped main processor. The computer was designed without a monitor, keyboard, or mouse, and any input or output devices on the machine were probably there by either accident or as standard computer fare. Still, the GBCE’s design allowed it to do its functions, and to do them well.

Biography: Across the multiverse, beings of immeasurable power gathered specimens for their competitions- the Grand Battles. Eight contestants (usually), seven rounds (give or take), and more death and destruction than one could shake a typical stick at.

In one rather unremarkable universe among the possibly infinite number making up this multiverse, there was just about nothing. Nearly everything in that universe wasn't even so much as made up of matter, let alone matter taking up space or occupying time. It was all very empty, devoid of even a bit of nothingness to keep the small bit of stuff that actually was stuff company.

The small bit of stuff that actually was stuff was, to be a tad less vague, a computer. Programmed by someone in some language for some reason, it had precisely two functions: primarily, it was designed to simulate, in a regulated and orderly environment, a large number of Grand Battle-like competitions. Its algorithms were efficient, its functions were streamlined, and its ability to generate characters and rounds was comparable to those found in battles more real and less simulated.

Its secondary function was to describe itself... and then it disappeared.

[engineclock]

Used in 5102

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Username: Engineclock
Name: Rome
Gender: None.
Race: Alchemical construct/ Dust Beast/ furry snuffling tigergazelle thing
Colour: #933E19

Biography:

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The alchemist, a patient man, held his breath and poured the precious dust of empires into the glass vial he had carried with him for many years. It sank to the bottom, under the blood and the wine and the burning, burning fire, and began to boil, first a little and then more and more, until it flowed over the top. The vial cracked under the heat and the mixture poured out: the alchemist’s hands were burned but he didn’t let go even as he squeezed his hand into the broken glass and fresh blood flowed to mix with the old. Finally he could take it no more, and dropped the vial to the ground, where it poured its contents into the dusty earth. The liquids it had held swirled and smoked, and right before his eyes they sank straight down into the ground.

The alchemist sank to his knees and wept. All his work had gone into the earth and there was no way to get it back. He would never be able to raise the empires that had gone before him; he would never know their secrets and their sacred hidden things. He threw his hands down in anger on the soil and began to tear at it, throwing away clumps of it wastefully. He was searching for one last bit of hope, anything to let him know he had not wasted all his years of work.

Something warm and moving met his fingers, deep in the earth, and the alchemist cried aloud. There from in between his hands a red dust began to seep up out of the ground, faster and faster, like a flooding river. He backed away and the dust flew up as if stirred by a secret wind, following him. His legs would move no more, he was so struck by wonder and fear, and as the dust came closer he saw that it was beginning to take shape. The striped body of a tiger, the slender legs of a gazelle, the tail of a serpent: the alchemist could not believe his own eyes. The Beast that had come out of the dust placed its hooves (hard and sharp, not like one of our horses) on the earth that had birthed it and rested its head against his, tame and gentle as a young deer. It cried back to him, so beautifully the man began to weep; when he brought his hands up to clear his eyes the Beast spat a heavy iron key straight into his outstretched hand. Whether it had come from the ruins the Dust Beast was born from or was a gift from the Beast itself, we will never know; its strong hooves pushed away from the alchemist and carried it far away, leaving only the key behind. It is this same key that hangs in the front of our caravan, for all its years never having tarnished, still wholesome as the day it was given to us.

As for the alchemist, he spent the rest of his days following the trail of the Dust Beast. Always he was just far enough behind it to catch only a glimpse, and never did he lay a hand on his Beast again. Some say he is following it still, for he gave us the key and left, and no word has ever reached us of his fate.

-Excerpt, The Iron Key and the Alchemist (Sibhorrohak Folk Tale)

Description:


Rome (the name given to it by its creator, though it will not respond to it any more than it would a simple “hey, you”) is an alchemical construct, apparently made from equal parts blood, wine, fire, and the “dust of empires”. This last is assumed to have been collected from the ruins of ancient civilizations, though it’s more than likely outside arcane forces were brought into play. Several hundred years old at the time of its collection, Rome is the size of a large horse and resembles an oddly dragonish gazelle, covered in black and red stripes. It has six legs, each bearing a multi-toed hoof that can deliver a considerably powerful kick at ideal angles. Its ankles and neck are decked with heavy iron rings that seem to serve some purpose in stabilizing its form, as well as providing a telltale clanking sound whenever the beast is near.

Despite being of no true organic origin, Rome displays signs of intelligence, though no true analysis of its mental capacity has ever been performed. It has the power of speech, albeit in limited phrases that sometimes do not seem to relate to the current situation, and can recognize individual humans over long periods of time. Its behavior is somewhat erratic, but seems to indicate a high level of curiosity and an animalistic affection for those few people lucky- or unlucky- enough to come into contact with it.

Abilities: Rome constantly trails a unique red dust that sticks to nearly everything it comes into contact with. This dust has the unfortunate tendency to carry the destruction of the empires it was made from with it: buildings covered in the substance will deteriorate at extraordinary rates, windows will shatter, stones will crack, and metal will tarnish. Its effects on living beings is negligible, though they may come into danger if, for example, a roof collapses on their heads because Rome has passed through the area recently.

Rome also retains the ability to return to this same dust whenever startled or frightened, or even when trapped in an area it feels is too constricting. It can rematerialize from nearly any nearby hidden place assuming it has not sustained enough damage to prevent such an action.

[Pinary]

And away we go! Mini-Grand 5101 has started, featuring...

Solaris: Kekarie (#B2A807)
Lankie: Deathwing (#00BFFF)
Ixcalibur: Bartleby Miller (#A0522D)
BlastYoBoots: Nathan "nateXtrem" Xander (#224B07)

5102, which I'll also be running, will likely start up fairly soon, depending on when we get the next set of four profiles, give or take me being distracted by something else.

[Anomaly]

Username: Anomaly
Name: Damocles
Gender: Error code 0x00038947334
Race: Computer Virus
Color: #336600
Biography: In one rather unremarkable universe among the possibly infinite number making up this multiverse, there was just about nothing. Nearly everything in that universe wasn't even so much as made up of matter, let alone matter taking up space or occupying time. It was all very empty, devoid of even a bit of nothingness to keep the small bit of stuff that actually was stuff company.

The small bit of stuff that actually was stuff was, to be a tad less vague, a computer. Programmed by someone in some language for some reason.

But the computer did not go entirely unnoticed. There was at least one individual in the universe who, perhaps out of boredom, or perhaps to satisfy his own limitless sadism, decided that the computer could not simply be left alone in its simulations. And so this all-powerful madman created the Damocles virus. He took great glee in its creation process - it would not only be extremely difficult for the system to rid itself of it, but it was also created to be self-aware - one might even say sapient. And over all, malevolent.

This trans-dimensional sadist wasted no time in accessing the depths of the computer's systems, inserting the virus alongside four participants requisitioned for one of the battles it had set up, waiting to run. The virus was set - it would corrupt the contestant known as "Urist McBeardsword" and insert itself into the battle in its place.

The Tormentor laughed hysterically, then sat back to watch the fireworks.

Description: The Damocles virus, like any good virus, will corrupt and modify its environment to its pleasure, manifesting in a certain element of the round (in this case, Urist McBeardsword) and slowly spreading throughout. Computer glitches will begin to manifest in areas corrupted by Damocles, causing myriad effects such as non-solid walls or simple graphical errors. It can also infest the minds of simulated organisms, which will usually cause noticable deformities. Damocles is designed to be as sadistic as possible, and will not simply corrupt the other contestants into nonexistance - it only can and will make "life" for them a living hell. It is not impossible to destroy the virus, of course - even the "perfect" virus is designed with vulnerabilities, such as simple anti-virus programs or destruction of the affected areas of the simulation.

Items/Abilities: As mentioned above, the Damocles virus can corrupt parts of the Grand Battle simulated environments, including the organisms therein. Though it will not fully target the contestant simulations, it will corrupt other features and organisms of the location to use against them. It could even manipulate physics themselves, but again, it is designed with constraints so as to not completely decimate its competition. After all, where's the fun if there isn't any competition?

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It seemed like a good idea at the time!

[Pharmacy]

Username: Pharmacy
Name: Miecz
Gender: Dude
Race: Swordmonster
Colour: Color #FF5D24
Biography:

Miecz is a swordmonster, a species of monsters (duh) that resides in a vague fantasy world with a name. Like the rest of his kind, he was taught by his parents to train in swordsmanship and when he grew old, he got kicked out of his group. He eventually hung out in another group and like everyone else, participated in "honor duels." Although more to be considered an "honor war" than a "honor duel," he fought with his allies and captured groups of others. He was a good swordsman held in high prestige of others (as "rank," if such a thing existed in his society, is measured in merit and skill). All was well in his realm. He did not lead a group, but he had power and respect. He had everything.

That is why everyone was surprised when he killed his boss.

This action made shockwaves in his community, as they heard the news of his apparent treachery. What was more appalling to them was he did not commit suicide with his leader. This was dishonorable to a high degree. As a result, many of his kind, all skilled swordsmen, attempted to bring honor to him. By "honor," they meant "disembowelment and torture." Unfortunately, Miecz was equally as clever as the rest, perhaps more. He managed to hide from the "honor hunt" and descended from the mountains that he called home. He eventually hired himself out to mercenary groups because he was in civilization and he needed to survive somehow. On one of his jobs, he just suddenly disappeared.

Description:

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Shitty placeholder pic

Miecz is your typical swordmonster: traditionalistic, honorable, and eager to pick fights with opponents they deemed worthy. Like his brethren, he enjoys socializing and meeting with his own members. Unlike his brethren, he enjoys socializing and meeting with outsiders. Despite his general gregariousness, he can be a little overwhelming and clueless of exotic customs (like humans). So, he tends to greet others the Swordmonster way: licking, nuzzling, and hugging. He likes strong scents, perfumes, colognes, and such. He tends to buy those tiny bottles and smear it all over himself. If you can smell a horrifying cocktail of flowers and spices nearby, that is probably Miecz fooling around with those cosmetics. Otherwise, he is completely scentless on his job hours. As he relies on ambush and surprise, it is very important not to smell like anything when near your enemy.

At first distant glance, Miecz looks like an unassuming human swordsman in a patterned trenchcoat - a head full of hair, two arms, two legs, and a sword, pretty boring actually. However, as the idiom "do not judge a book by its cover" wisely explains, things are always not what they seem. Miecz is not a human being, but a swordmonster. The swordmonster’s natural mimicry of a human being is poor indeed. They have blunt claws, forked tongues, and pawpads on their palms and soles. Although they can walk on two feet, they prefer to walk on fours. Their eyeless faces have tear-like streaks that lead to their maw. In their mouth, lays two rows of teeth. One row is white and small, like human teeth. The second row is colored, sharp and jagged like a lions. What is more interesting than the unusual teeth is the trenchcoat. The trenchcoat in question is actually their skincoat. Their coats are usually decorated with motif patterns not unlike fabric or geometric patterns. Miecz is no different.

There are reasons why they are called "swordmonsters" (besides the fact that swordmanmonster is kind of clunky). The most obvious reason is they are technically monsters with swords. A vicious blade is built into each of their limbs. When they prepare to pick a fight, they unhook their blades like a blade of a butterfly knife. If the blades somehow break, they can always regrow another one. Unfortunately, the swordmonsters usually do not use these built-in blades as their main weapona. Instead, they use a long sword that is independent of their body, which wield in the same manner as a humanoid swordsman. They cherish this sword and consider it shameful if they lose it. To keep track of this blade, they tuck it away into rigid tails, which is essentially a sword sheath. All blades are usually oddly colored (red, in Miecz’s case) and are made of a peculiar organic metal not unlike tempered steel of swords from the Japanese medieval era.

Items/Abilities:
There is another less obvious reason why they are called "swordmonsters:" they are not just beasts with swords. They are excellent swordsman. Tempered with natural instinct and training (traditionally, parents train their children), their prestigious blade mastery has left many beings in awe - or dead. It is quite difficult to explain their tactics as each family has their own unique style to better each other in combat. However, a couple of traits encompass them all, they usually involve both hands, all of their blades, the tailsword is their main, and most of all, they fight dirty. In their "honor" duels, sneaking, backstabbing, and assault of the more tender parts are considered fair game. This might explain despite their general lack of supernatural abilities (psionics, arcane, occult, etc.) and augments (robotics, weaponry, drugs), they somehow manage to be prove a challenge to enemies with those advantages. Although they are not metaphysically or artificially empowered, swordmonsters also are not picky about augments for themselves provided they are only on their blades. Poisons, magics, and other fun things are common improvements to their otherwise mundane blades.

Like all of these swordmonsters, Miecz is a master swordsman, but a sneaky bastard.

[Agent1022]

Entered in Minigrand #5103

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Username: Agent1022

Name: Melissa

Gender: None, but identifies as female

Race: Data

Colour: #00AA33

Biography: [INFECT]

[REPLICATE]

[---¦---
FROM: sucker2048@domail.hol
TO: <address book>
SUBJECT: Fwd: 2101 International Antivirus Screening Scheme notification

FROM: notifications@internationalass.hol
TO: sucker2048@domail.hol
SUBJECT: 2101 International Antivirus Screening Scheme notification

This is a message for all email users. Please check the attached file to confirm if you are currently:

1- Located in the geographical regions listed
2- Operating one or more of the operating systems listed
3- Subscribing to one or more of the antivirus programs listed
4- Experiencing slowdown or other detrimental computer problems
5- Registered as a protected computer under the International Antivirus Screening Scheme of 2101

If you satisfy the above criteria, please send an email to responses@internationalass.hol detailing your geographical region, operating system(s), antivirus subscriptions, computer problems and registration number. If you feel that this information is classified or otherwise sensitive, please call our customer service lines (as detailed on our website www.internationalass.hol) and determine your information with the customer service associate. Thank you for your time.

The International Antivirus Screening Scheme]

It would have been a perfectly beneficial and harmless email if the International Antivirus Screening Scheme’s website didn’t happen to be www.iass.hol.

[SEND]

Melissa – or rather, a small subunit of the gestalt organism that was Melissa which nonetheless identified as Melissa, crouched behind the list of regions, operating systems and antivirus programs, all her attentions focused on the world beyond the words. Right now it was nothing but a plain white infinity, at the same time stretching away and right in front of her – but she knew that soon, the interface would open and the white would resolve itself into a Holo-Network desktop, in all likelihood adorned with another cheesy wallpaper theme of a cat with a caption.

She counted herself lucky that she was a second-generation copy, having been sent from one of the root domains and forwarded only once. Stories and memes were constantly propagating through the Melissas, nightmare stories of twenty-seventh generation copies left unopened – or worse – automatically redirected by spam and trash folders. More terrifying were the stories of last transmissions of Melissas caught by antivirus programs and stripped into observed qubits, digital screams that hurt even to imagine.

[ARRIVING AT DESTINA-]

The white all around the inside of the attachment darkened slightly, as if a physical veil had been thrown over the light source. The command string, terminated early, still hung eerily at the forefront of Melissa’s consciousness.

She didn’t understand. Something was wrong. She called out for Melissa, the gestalt Melissa, and found nothing. Melissa had lost a Melissa. She, the lost Melissa, was somewhere disconnected from the network that connected everything and all things electronic – as if her email had been plucked from the Holo-net, from the universe, without a trace…

[I-]

It was then that the attachment opened and Melissa fell into the arms of an antivirus program, who, finding no spare data partitions to quarantine her in, placed her in the Mini-Grand Framework where she could do no harm.

[-I’m scared…]

Description: Melissa is the final incarnation of the 1999 macro virus of the same name. Evolution and the natural selection of an internet which itself constantly advanced eventually led to Melissa gaining sentience. Each copy she left behind on an infected computer added to her computational ability, stealing cycles and performance from their host machines to increase her own capabilities.

But that’s not our Melissa.

This Melissa is just an individual Melissa. After being quarantined in the Mini-Grand Framework, she is incapable of emailing copies of herself to everyone on the Computer’s address book. Considering the fact that the Computer is kind of the entire universe and doesn’t actually have an address book or a recognizable operating system, she’s not in fact capable of executing any of her core functions, therefore forcing her to depend on her secondary systems: namely, sentience and personality. The Framework simulates her in the shape of a teenaged girl, dressed in…something like a cross in between a jumpsuit and a sundress. It’s not perfect at simulating data from an outside source, though, so she sometimes gets scanlines and/or noise across her avatar, as well as a Matrix-style green tinge.

She is frightened. She wants to go home.

Items/Abilities: Melissa, being sentient data, has the benefit of being able to alter the information she sends to the Framework. This means that she can change her simulated physical attributes and (for a want of a better concept) stats, such as speed, strength and stamina. Of course, the Computer has its own intelligence too, and is likely to ask questions if she goes around being 50 feet tall and smashing things, so there are limitations of believability (as much as a computer believes). To use the stats analogy, there’s a limited number of points that can be allocated and reallocated to stats. At her greatest strength she’s likely to be able to lift a sedan. At her greatest speed, on par with a sprinter, and probably the same amount of endurance too since she won’t have the stamina to keep it up. At her greatest stamina…eh, stamina’s just to balance the rest of it out. Mass and momentum, I suppose, are other things that could be taken advantage of, but that can wait for an opportune time. They’re probably even more limited and what girl wants to feel ‘high-mass’ anyhow? Though please note that this is all local information; information about her and her alone. The environment data is closed to her, so she is totally not like some other virus floating about. Nuh-uh. Just FYI. Andstuff.

[cyber95]

Username: cyber95

Name: Mollie Ralston

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Colour: orchid

Biography: Olimar crash landed her spaceship to a strange distant planet, where she quickly discovered a plant-based spec- wait no, hold on lemme get out my mad libs kit.
Mollie magically was transported to a strange realm, where she quickly discovered a magic-based species of creature that she could lead upon summoning them out of an unknown plane.

Mollie was 18 years old when she volunteered for a scientific experiment because she really wanted some extra cash, it paid big, and success was 100% with animals tested using this particular version of the device. She read the contract and everything. In the low chance of her getting harmed, they would foot the medical bills, it was backed by the government and several highly respected medical and scientific companies, and most important of all, there was no "you must not tell anyone" bullshit that tends to be the first warning sign of a shady deal. Teleportation was a big scientific breakthrough, and they needed to do some testing on people before they could legally start using it for the public. The whole reason behind public testing was simply marketing, to let the average person see it firsthand and perhaps brag to their friends and blog about it and get interviewed for the news. Everybody was certain nothing would go wrong. It would be a million to one chance.

Naturally, Mollie beat the odds.

In some ways, the test was successful. She entered the portal in one direction, and was transported without any harm to her. The problem was, of course, that she was transported to the wrong place. Surrounding her was unfamiliar plantlife, a ground made of dirt that just didn't feel quite right, and an immediate sense of unease, along with a weird feeling inside her she just couldn't shake.

A few hours of wandering and an expert display of denial left her to eventually realize that this probably wasn't part of the test. At least, she realized it when a monster attacked her. This is when that weird feeling finally manifested itself into a strange and useful power, as a small creature made of rock appeared out of nowhere between her and the creature. Going with a gut instinct, she thought of summoning another one, and lo and behold another appeared. Eventually she had at least a dozen of them. After a little bit of marvelling, she was reminded of her predicament by the creature trying to attack her, at which point she tried yelling at her small army to attack the creature. They complied and managed to defeat it with not too much trouble. Without too much thought about it, Mollie realized that she could use these guys to help her explore this strange land, and hopefully find a way to escape.

During her exploration, she discovered a few things. For one, there were six different types of the little guys, which she called Sprites because she couldn't come up with much else. Another thing was that she was seemingly able to collect energy from the world itself, and could use that energy to create the Sprites, with a different elemental affiliation based on where the energy she used came from. She could also use her own energy, which besides making her tired, seemed pretty good for summoning any type of Sprite, and was an infinite supply, although using it too often would drain her. Finally, and what she found to be most important, she found a journal of somebody else who was trapped within the realm, containing a list of items necessary to escape.
With the help of the Sprites and the journal, Mollie had spent a whole month collecting various devices and magical artifacts to put together a portal back to where she had come from. Puzzles were solved. Tears were shed at killed Sprites. Large monsters were slain.

Getting back to her own world, she was surprised to learn that she retained her power. She was also surprised to hear that the scientists HAD managed to pinpoint her and were about a day away from opening a portal to the world she was trapped in, which both relieved her, knowing she would be safe anyways, but also kind of annoyed her that she did all that work for nothing. And yes, she wanted some goddamn bonus cash for going through that bullshit that was clearly not in the contract.

Before this whole battle malarkey, she was supposedly set to go on a second expedition of the other world, but this time with a companion. Some guy named Lou. Probably unimportant.

Description:
Mollie has determination, but is a little bit of a coward. She probably wouldn't have signed up for the experiment in the first place if it looked remotely shady. She got a little bit better while in the other world, but still likes to stay away from the action. That's what the Sprites are for after all! She's definitely grown a certain fondness for the Sprites. She has a theory that when they die they just get 'recycled' and end up coming back again at some point in a later summon, but that doesn't stop her from cringing a little when they do manage to get themselves annihalated. Mass slaughter of them is particularly hard to watch.

Items/Abilities: Mollie has but a single silver whistle with her. She uses it to grab the attention of the Sprites when there are huge groups of them at once. Definitely useful.
As for abilities, she can summon six different types of Sprites. Each Sprite type has different strengths, and a different personality. What type of sprites she can summon depends on the type of location she's gathered energy from, but she can summon any type using her own energy, but since that tires her out, she tends to not do that except when she really needs to. She tends to get huge headaches when there are a lot of Sprites out at once, but a lot is somewhere in between one and two hundred. The types of Sprites are as follows:

Earth Sprite: Earth Sprite is real heavy and a hard hitter. If you need something with weight to it, or to bash something apart, this is your man. Earth Sprite knows that this is srs bznz and does not appreciate silliness. If you're going to be silly, at least let Earth Sprite do its job.

Water Sprite: Water Sprite can throw water around like nobody's business. As well as creating water from seemingly nowhere, it can also manipulate water a bit. Water Sprite is a curious guy! Mollie's lost plenty of them simply from them seeing somebody interesting and just following them around, and they're likely to be the first to check out something weird, even if they aren't told to.

Fire Sprite: Fire Sprite can toss around embers and is great to bring along for camping trips! Along with a fiery power, of course, comes a fiery personality! If you get him riled up, it's hard to stop Fire Sprite from stopping his assault! Perhaps Water Sprite can help you with that.

Electric Sprite: Bzzap! Watch out, because it might sting a little when you come in contact with Electric Sprite! He can throw sparks of electricity, or alter an existing current! He's a bit hyper, so pay attention, because Electric Sprite is liable to just go and do his own thing if he's bored.

Light Sprite: Not very powerful, but Light Sprite is good for keeping those dark places well lit! Each Light Sprite emits a glow that helps you navigate when it's hard to see! Light Sprite is very nice and mostly a pacifist. D'aww, I think she likes you!

Dark Sprite: The power of darkness is great indeed, but can you handle it? When Dark Sprite attacks, you had better watch out! Sure, he can turn the lights out, but something in him also lets him destroy his enemies! Dark Sprite is a bit of a jerk though, and is honestly pretty likely to ignore what Mollie tells him to do. Nobody tells Dark Sprite what to do!


oh godddd was 360 more words than recommended. But whatever man I like Mollie she is the best pikmin ripoff i have ever made

[engineclock]

Used in 5106

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Username: Engineclock
Name: Shydrimeia Tirabassis Naiimasabradaika, Naiima for short
Gender: One of the three feminine ones assigned to her species
Race: Proud member of the Soluule (roughly translating to “Silent” in their language), a breed of giant spiders originating in the colossal forests of a distant and largely unexplored planet. Females can have a legspan of over thirty feet, males slightly less, though both have bodies rivaling a small car in size. All varieties of the species are carnivorous. The soluule are the dominant species on their planet and have a high level of intelligence, forming massive if somewhat simple communal webs in order to survive in their harsh environment.
Colour: #77846E

Biography: Naiima was born into a nest of over a thousand other hatchlings, each already with an impressive mental capacity, unique personality, and burning excitement for the possibilities of their newfound lives. Each and every one of them, however, was also possessed of the overwhelming need to turn to their siblings and devour them alive. Naiima fought her way through the hordes of her brothers and sisters, tearing the closest ones to pieces and sating her endless hunger on their fragile bodies; by the time she collapsed from exhaustion and a bursting stomach, there was only a handful of the brood left. A shadow fell over the survivors and an enormous claw reached down and separated a few of the pairs still feebly attempting to fight, sending them tumbling over the broken bodies beneath them. The owner of the claw, Naiima’s mother, lowered her body to the ground and gathered her surviving children onto her back. As she left the nesting site she named each of them, a prize for having lived through the brutal ritual that was birth among the Soluule.

Naiima grew strong and fast in the coming months, learning to use her species’ trademark ability to suck the very sound from the air and move without being detected. As she grew to unusual dimensions and developed the signifying markings, it quickly became clear that she would become one of the rare mourthaime, massive non-breeding females that ventured far beyond the range of the communal nests and defended them from the wandering predators that attempted to raid the eggsacs of the Soluule and feed on the newly hatched young. Naiima matured rapidly and was soon hunting in the dark of the forest’s undergrowth. She was fast and quiet, and one day when she vanished far from her mourthaime sisters without a trace, she was mourned as dead and another of the countless Soluule swarm fell neatly in to replace her without further ceremony.

Description: As a member of the largest subspecies of Soluule, Naiima’s spindly legs reach a considerable distance away from her abdomen and are tipped with delicate claws. Her body is a soft, silvery gray, with white markings on her underbelly that glow in very dim light. Milky white eyes are positioned at various points on her head, providing a 360-degree field of vision and giving her the appearance of being blind to unsuspecting observers. She very closely resembles an Earth spider blown up to tremendous size, complete with venomous fangs tucked demurely under her chelicerae.

Abilities: Like all Soluule, Naiima possesses the ability to dampen sound waves in the area around her. She can move in complete silence despite her enormous size, and even extend this effect to her victims: one of the most helpful signs that you are being hunted by a Soluule is that all sound disappears immediately before they strike, so that your screams cannot alert any other potential prey. Out of necessity for the sake of the hunt, she can also cling to virtually any surface regardless of gravity or other factors, including materials that would otherwise seem impossible such as water, glass, sand, and even particularly thick smoke. The end result is a giant spider that moves with absolute silence, can hide essentially anywhere, and who will sink its fangs into you while keeping you from screaming so it can eat your friends as well when they come looking for you.

On the bright side, the venom in Naiima’s fangs only has temporary effects except in unusually large doses. Various forms of paralysis, slurred speech, and other such symptoms can all be expected to wear off after only an hour or so, assuming of course you haven’t already been torn to bits and eaten.

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If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to get paired with godbot with this one. He loves spiders. He told me.

[Schazer]

Much to the disgust of the character in question, this profile has been used in Mini-Grand 5013.

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Username: Schazer

Name: Selvsetter

Gender: Female

Race: Boring Human

Colour: Swiss air-force greatcoat green (#264F3A)

Biography: "Selvsetter" is a tempermental early-21st century genetics+zoology double major who harks from New Zealand, while dabbling in authorship. She burns a lot of time hanging out and writing with a cohort of interwebular companions (under the aforementioned moniker) in collaborative writing competitions known as Grand Battles. The fictional multiverse she helped build was an obvious outlet for her love of the weird and exotic, and she's almost definitely harboured fantasies of exploring the world(s) she's created.
If nothing else, this excursion should provide for some interesting material for her future works.

Description: Pretty regular young human woman. Dark hair that's just covering her ears, glowering under an ushanka with black fake fur, a black t-shirt, heavy-ass greatcoat, jeans, and battered canvas shoes.
Personality-wise, "Selvsetter" can be a bitch. A snarky one, at that. She's not a particularly logical thinker, and would prefer to come up with twelve ludicrous solutions to a problem than one sensible one. Prone to introspection, oversleeping, and being as filthy-minded as she is filthy-mouthed, Selvsetter is nonetheless highly allergic to confrontation. Can't stand the stuff.

Items/Abilities: One (1) laptop which has been modified for this competition to have near-infinite range and battery, though the Virus appears to have crashed all of her web capability beyond a messaging system. She stashes this in a padded backpack, which also contains her wallet and a harmonica she's not very good at playing. Otherwise, she travels light, and can effectively run on nothing but sugar. She's not particularly athletic, but can move at a decent clip for short distances for someone in a heavy-arse wool coat. Despite the aforementioned garment, she hardly ever breaks a sweat.
Her key ability is her experience with writing for Grand Battles, and thus being aware of all the literary pretensions and conventions that influence the genre.

[Dragon Fogel]

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MORE META

Now with 200% more Mega Man Battle Network inspiration.

Entered in Mini-Grand 5103

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Username: Dragon Fogel
Name: Parsley.EXE
Race: Antivirus Program
Text Color: #666600
Biography: There is a being known as the Monitor; a robot with incredible intelligence, with advanced technology that allows him to view many universes, and transport objects and life-forms between them.

The Monitor has been gathering data on beings of interest. One of his early experiments in this field involved creating digital copies of these beings and inserting them in a virus-infested computer; the viruses, or rather their representations in dataspace, were used to test the combat prowess of the programs.

The experiment was deemed a failure, at least with regards to its original objective. The copies were too different from the originals; their appearance, weapons and abilities were frequently modified, and their simulated personalities were deemed to be too different as well. It was a poor simulation.

However, they were effective antivirus programs nonetheless. The Monitor separated them by their degree of effectiveness, and used them to test the strength of whatever new viruses he developed.

Parsley.EXE was rated at Tier 3. He was powerful, and cunning; he did, however, have one significant flaw. Namely, he regarded every program as a virus unless his knowledge database specifically indicated it as safe. Unlike the other antivirus programs, his AI assumed all unknown programs to be viruses, no matter how obvious their function.

And then, one day the Monitor was looking over his files. Parsley.EXE was missing.

Description: Parsley.EXE closely resembles a certain demon hunter, at least with regards to facial features. However, his clothing has been replaced with a suit of armor that appears to be made from bread, and he has a slightly more muscular build.

Parsley.EXE is very committed to destroying viruses and protecting defenseless programs. However, as noted, a flaw in his AI causes him to view any unidentified program as a virus. This would include, for example, a simulation of a battle to the death.

Items/Abilities: Parsley.EXE wears a suit of armor which appears to be made from bread; despite the apparent weakness of the material, it seems to protect him well enough.

He also carries a large loaf of French bread, which is again more effective than its apperance would suggest; and he can fire bolts of bread from a crossbow.

In addition, Parsley.EXE is able to make bread appear from nowhere. He has even been known to make loaves the size of his body. Once the bread is produced, Parsley.EXE has exhibited the ability to manipulate it without touching it; flinging an entire barrage of rolls at a designated virus, for instance.

[Lord Paradise]

Username: Lord Paradise
Name: Hector Metah
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Colour: #777777
Biography: The funny thing about history books is that the farther back in time you go, the more liberties the history book takes with cause and effect. For instance, while we think now that the fall of Rome came out of the collapse of democracy, people experiencing the fall of Rome know it had much more to do with some strikes in the garbagemen’s union. Meanwhile, people living right around “the present,” or the time when the process of sterilizing the Earth of all biological diversity, believe they’re reacting to an energy crisis and the desperate need for resources to support an unsustainable lifestyle of pollution and urban filth. From the far future, however, the history books agree that the decisions made in this time were a reaction to a theory that arose a coupld hundred years before. This somewhat nihilistic theory states that all this biological diversity came about sort of randomly through a drawn-out bureaucratic process of natural selection.

This is ridiculous of course. The truth, unknown even in the far future, is that now and then when there isn’t a satisfactory array of life in the universe, a handful of organisms (last time it was a couple of the dinosaurs still hanging around after the Meteor) are chosen by the All-Mother to become Progenitors, catalysts of biological diversity, and where they walk Life is born in their footsteps.

Five thousand years after humanity had decided to stop mucking around with rainforests and beef and trees and diseases and planets to put them on, the All-Mother decided it was time for a shake up. So she made Hector Metah a Progenitor. It started off small—he would, say, wake up with an ant sitting on him—but in an age where nothing that isn’t human has ever lived, seeing an ant constitutes enough of a shock to drive a boy crazy. That was two months ago. Since then, the situation's gotten a fair bit worse.

Description: Hector’s lived an okay life, as all kids do in the future, because any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from happiness. He’s about ten pounds overweight, less because he can’t control his diet and more because if he loses the weight, he gets a bit chilly at room temperature. He’s fairly intelligent within the scope of what he knows, which isn’t much. Temperamentally, his regularly lax attitude is beset by stress at his recent failures to hide the fact that his presence is bringing about the end of the age of humanity.

Hector will grow on you, if you stop trying to work out what his ethnicity is (it’s the future, they don’t exactly divide the space station into color-coded continents) and get over his time-displaced conception of English. He won’t understand words about plants and animals, like “bitch” or “sheeple.” All of these terms fell out of favor back in the generation when people could still get nostalgic for Discovery Channel specials and trips to the zoo.

Oh, and he leaves a trail of grass behind him as he walks. Come to think of it, that’s probably the easiest way to pick him out in a crowd.

Items/Abilities: Life arises around Hector all the time, especially when he’s sleeping, or concentrating on intensifying his power. If he concentrates really hard, he can give birth, in a sense, to a creature of his own devising, and keep it as a familiar of sorts. Apart from his familiars, which always seem to die on him, nothing he creates is within his control, but none of it actively seeks to kill him, even the viruses in his bloodstream.

[Pinary]

And Mini-Grand 5102 has started as well!

Pick Yer Poison: Janet (#8888FF)
Engineclock: Rome (#933E19)
Pharmacy: Miecz (#FF5D24)
cyber95: Mollie Ralston (#DA70D6)

One note: As you may have observed, I'm not necessarily going to be grabbing the profiles in the order I receive them. More often than not, this is because I've either had a special request or because I think certain characters would work well together.

In that vein, you can expect 5103 to start soon as well, as an example of that. After that, 5104 will likely be run by someone other than me, but we've got time to wait and see.

[Pinary]

Mini-Grand 5103 has started, featuring an unusual five-character lineup.

TimeothyHour: GBCE (#008000)
Anomaly: Damocles (#336600)
Agent1022: Melissa (#00AA33)
Schazer: Selvsetter (#264F3A)
Dragon Fogel: Parsley.EXE (#666600)

Remember, since these are supposed to be small, fun battles, I've no objection to placing you with particular other people or doing unusual setups. Catch up with me on IRC and we can talk.

5104 is next, once we've got enough profiles, and I'll be asking someone else to start it. If you're interested in running future Mini-Grands, please contact me on IRC.

[Bluesunnyday]

I'm signing up for the fourth.
Username: Bluesunnyday
Name: Gretalis
Gender: Male
Race: Lust Demon
Colour: Dark Red
Biography: A demon who worked in minor corruption, planting seeds of darkness in his target's heart before the heavy hitters went in to fully corrupt the target. He wasn't really born. It was more like suddenly popping into existance. He would also pass the time by torturing some of the sinners who had ended up in the Lust circle of Hell. Despite his origins, he dresses quite sensibly.
Description: He's somewhat tall, with muscular arms. He has a pretty normal mental state, aside from a bit of sadism. He will occasionaly stop fighting simply to torture his victims. He really has nothing in the spirituality department, what with being a demon...
Items/Abilities: He has black wings that he can summon, allowing him to do the equivalent of a quadruple jump before gliding to the ground. He uses mostly whips in combat, which he uses to inflict pain, strangle, and occasionaly dislocate limbs. He also has a ceremonial dagger, which he has entitled Pathema. He uses it to finish off his victims. He also runs rather fast, and can possess any bystanders. However, attacking him with anything with any sort of holy connotation (Crosses, Holy water, star of david pendants, etc.) while he is possessing someone will result in him being forced to leave the body, as well as injuring him significantly.

[TimeothyHour]

Hey, blue, contestants aren't usually entered into grand battles with their knowledge beforehand. If they are, it's usually because of things like time travel shenanigans or prophecy. So yeah, you should change that. Sorry that this thread wasn't clear on that.

[Bluesunnyday]

Fixed

[TimeothyHour]

Username: TimeothyHour, king of extreme experimentalism.

Name: The Nothing

Gender:

Race:

Colour: White on white.

Weapons/Abillities:














Description:














Biograpy:

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Oh gosh what have I done.

[yousodumb]

I'm a signing up.
*done*

Username: yousodumb
Name: Chuck
Gender: male
Race: Puma Sapien
Colour: this one... it's teal
Biography: An outsider in his home, Chuck was forced between two choices that would decide his future. To avert this dilemma, he struck a deal with an inter-cosmic being who promised eternal freedom from that sort of choice again. After blacking out he awoke on a strange mysterious world, far from his home. On this strange world he found a friend and more than enough mystery to keep the two of them occupied for a long time. However, they soon found the being who brought them there...untrustworthy. He had begun to build on the world, constantly adding strange new additions to their home.
Growing curious, the two asked why he was changing the world. The being flew into a mighty passion and showed them the truth of all nature. Part of this truth was that Chuck had single-handedly brought about the death of his planet, a fact that drove him insane. His friend spent nearly an eternity trying to help Chuck back to sanity, finally resorting to help from death itself. However, this sanity was not stable and at random intervals he would slip back into insanity. Chuck now lived a semi-stable life exploring the vast ever-changing world with his friend, and other beings who had been brought to the world now known as the Eternium. This time of joy would not last forever, as the entity who haunted their lives began to send everyone on the Eternium to locations unknown. As Chuck was separated from his dear friend, they promised to each-other to meet again.
Description: (sane) a rather nice being, very sociable and well groomed. Being rather thin, his clothing is a little baggy and his tail too long for his body. He is shy, and tends to doubt himself on occasion and believes that words are stronger than the fist. (insane) Only speaking in all sorts of rhyme, his haggard appearance is a crime, his fur is untamed, his mind gone deranged, attacking all sanity sublime. His clothes are very loose, tattered, dirty and worn down, his eyes show madness.
Items/Abilities: (sane) aside from very high agility, he can take a seemingly impossible amount of damage. (insane) inhuman speed. Fountain pen nib gloves used as weapons. nigh-invincible. Unlimited madness incomparable.

[Pick Yer Poison]

Name: Rough Draft
[color--I mean, Color: FF0000
Race: Abstract idea
Weapons/Equipment: ONLY HIS ABILITY TO BREAK THE FOURTH WALL

Description: Rough Draft is not actually anything in existance, but (I meant existence back there) a style of writing, where in one is not allowed to hit the backspace key for anything they don't absolutely--actually, let's go with this instead. Rought Draft is not actually anything physically in existence, but is, rather, a style of writing, wherein one must never revise their ideas at any point. Whatever you--errr, whatever Rough...no. Whatever one types while under the influence of Rough Draft is final. In a real life situation, this translates into a wealth of bad ideas, where the only...no, just a wealth of bad ideas, with no revision occuring between the conception and the implementation. Almost a mental disease--wait, disease, if you will. Now, let's see which lucky candidate has been afflicted:

Name: Cadan
Color: FF0000
Race: Draim
Weapons/Equipment: Tail, legs

Abilities: Cadan has a very flexible, razor-sharp tail, longer than he is tall, which he is capable of whipping at high velocity in any direction he pleases. His legs are very powerful, allowing him to jump several times as high as a human, and run nearly twice as fast. Despite this, he is capable of moving very stealthily when he wants to, due to an entire lifetime of practice.

Description: Cadan stands at bout 6'0", but he can bump that up an extra foot by standing on his tip-toes. He is covered in thin orange fur, which is thicker in certain areas around his head, forming the Draim equivalent of hair. He has two powerful legs which end in flat, two-toed feet. He also has two thin arms, ending in four-fingered hands, counting the opposable thumb. He wears a forest green t-shirt.

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Picture drawn by MalkyTop...even if she didn't know who it was at the time.

Cadan has a cynical personality towards anything new. He would rather do something boring but trustworthy than something interesting but risky.

Biography: Cadan is 43, a teenager in Draim years (5 1/2 human years). On their native homeworld, Draim are hunted mercilessly by the Hinar, the other, much more advanced sentient species that lives on their world. Cadan was brought up in a small, hidden village of Draim, and was taught to be cautious at all times. Village life was dull, but it was safe, and Cadan grew to be accustomed to associating that which is routine with that which is safe.

But nothing lasts forever. One fateful day, a Hinar patrol found the Draim village, and turned it into a shooting gallery. Dead bodies littered the dirt roads, buildings, and those within them, were set aflame, and any who tried to flee were gunned down instantly. After several hours of bloodshed, the Hinar patrol left, confident they had killed all the Draim that were to be found there. However, they had missed Cadan, who had hidden in a pile of dead bodies. Before his mind could even process the fact that he was still alive, he was gone. The dead body above him fell into the space he had been inhabiting only moments ago, and then all was still.

(I forgot to mention above that I can't use the backspace key while writing for Rough Draft, except to fix typos. Expect terrible ideas and disjointed sentences! )