The Grand Mashup [ROUND 1: SPOOKY-ASS HOSPITAL]

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Somewhere in an alien dimension a soldier stumbled through a doorway. He barely missed colliding with the wall and threw a hand out to grasp the frame like a man drowning, knuckles whitening on the metal as he tried to steady himself. He might have been drunk- his footsteps were unsteady and his movements were erratic- if the expression on his face wasn’t caught so perfectly between apathy and fear and the space where his left arm should have been wasn’t filled with body of an enormous centipede that was winding itself by his side. The man nearly tripped as his shoulder was pulled suddenly downward; the insect’s body swung wildly and hit the wall with a painful thud.

The centipede’s eyes were a furious green as it butted its head against the man’s stomach, forming a sharp hiss into words with madly gesticulating mandibles. The soldier gestured with his single remaining arm at the centipede and then at himself, clearly not of the centipede’s opinion as to whose fault his awkward motions were. His voice, oddly drained and heavily accented, was drowned out by a sudden, insidious cackle that hung in the air like an unwelcome guest in the space beyond.

“Poor bastards didn’t even bother to thank me! I mean, look at them. They’re better off this way. Much more interesting, at any rate.”

The Tormentor stood with hands clasped behind his back in front of a colossal eye, casually observing the unfortunate soldier and insect through its colorless iris. The scene flickered and vanished as the eye blinked, returning its gaze to him nervously. Around the observing Grandmaster the pale walls of a lonely tower fluttered with the lids of thousands of stolen eyes. The one before him wobbled in reluctant agreement as a sphinx by the shadowy humanoid’s side stretched out its front paws and yawned.

“Oh, undoubtedly. Such an excellent match too. Near perfect, don’t you think? Two forms colliding into one, a metamorphosis of the body transcending the essential singularity of life. Artistry in on itself… You’re a genius, Tormy.” The sphinx turned and grinned at him, lion’s teeth in a woman’s face.

The Tormentor smirked back.“Why, yes, yes I am. ”

“It’s almost a shame, though…” Red hair gathered into a mane writhed like a pack of eels having a seizure. “There’s only the one of them.”

“Are you suggesting there should be more?”

The blind monstrosity purred and started to circle him, padding over the featureless floor. “They’ve made such a sacrifice, this pair. Who are we to isolate them, quarantine them? Force them into the role of curio, alone in their uniqueness?...” A thin red tail whipped across the pale surface and the woman’s face made an excellent stab at a pout. “We could make more. It would be easy. They can’t be the only ones to suffer such a blessing, after all. It would be cruel…”

“Well, when you put it like that,” the Tormentor snickered, “I don’t see how any sane being could suggest otherwise.”

The Spectator’s eyes blinked as one as the sphinx flared its wings and reared up with its paws on the Tormentor’s shoulders, grinning into his face. “We’ll have to search, of course. How can anything short of ideal fall into such alignment so seamlessly? But we’re no strangers to that, are we,” and her smile was a lion’s, all hungry fangs and good intentions.

“Search for victims?” He laughed. “Nothing could be simpler...”

_________

???

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You all know what a Grand Battle is, don’t you? Good, this isn’t one of them. Or not a real one, anyways. But the general idea is the same, yeah? Except that in this particular battle, all of the characters entered will be rudely jammed together in pairs (primarily physically, but mental/spiritual/emotional/whatever bonds, etc, are certainly not out of the question). This little venture is run by Anomaly and myself. We’re the judges. We’re gonna be doing the “official” posts like this one. Make us like you. If you die, be it from bad writing or inactivity or us just not digging your style, your partner does too. Eight characters, four pairs, four rounds total, winner gets biscuits. Why are you still reading this?

PROFILE GET

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Username: You.
Name: Your character.
Color: What shade do you talk in? Don’t use Tormy’s or Eyesphinx’s. Make it legible.
Gender: Just pick one.
Race: Species, whatever.
Description: Physical, mental, pictures if you want ‘em.
Weapons/Abilities: Speaks for itself, don’t it?
Biography: Who the hell are you and what the fuck have you done.
Partner: Username and character name if you’ve decided to team up with someone. If you don’t have one yet, no worries, we’ll set you up with some cute little thing from down the street who’s only been to prison once. Or another unpaired entrant. Whichever we find first.

THEY COULDA HAD CLASS! THEY COULD'VE BEEN CONTENDERS!:

1. TimeothyHour- Catherine Orwell: Royal Blue on White / Ixcaliber- Abraham: #008080
2. Agent1022- Sergeant Grace “GG” Gray: #444444 / WoodlandBeef- Belgen: #003153 and #003153
3. Solaris- Quez: #B0571B / A Killer Cuppa Tea- Tamani Turok: DarkOrange
4. MalkyTop- Mr. Bori: #B272A6 on #26466D / Wojjan- Norië: Teal

[Anomaly]

Additionally, you have until July August 3 to get these profiles in. No big rush or anything, but don't procrastinate. We'll be waiting.

[TimeothyHour]

Username: TimeothyHour

Name: Born Catherine Orwell; the computerization process, however, dictates the removal of first names. So, simply “Orwell.”

Gender: Female, although the sterilization and computerization process has mangled any associations that come with gender besides those that are biological.

Race: Human supercomputer.

Colour: Royalblue on white

Biography:

From the point of conception, Orwell was intended to be one of the honorable human-computer hybrids that are the foundation of her society. Her genetic sequence was carefully chosen from trillions of combinations for intelligence, brilliance, and imagination. Her impregnated cells were artificially implanted in an ideal host mother, whose diet, temperature, and emotional status were all regulated to near-perfection.

Catherine Orwell was born without a hitch, wherein the computerization process immediately began. Her vocal chords, eyes, eardrums, ovaries, and various hormone-emitting glands were surgically removed. She was then submerged in growth solutions, breathing and feeding tubes, along with brain implants designed to give mental stimuli, were inserted to maintain her health over the next six months, wherein she would mature to approximately a 25-year-old human.

At the end of this second incubation period, she was finally hooked up to the computerized system she would control. Her circulatory system was replaced with metal tubes, her fleshy nerves replaced with a wired ones. She was rigged to the machine, and she became one with it. Before long, she was managing economies, organizing interstellar wars, and running scientific models.

However, everyone knows how this story ends; she suddenly disappeared.

Description: If not for the computerization process, Orwell would have been a beautiful woman. Her eyes would have been a brilliant green, contrasting her ghostlike, pale skin. Instead, however, the empty sockets are deep and sunken, unseeing and uncomprehending. She has no hair, besides the wires and tubes that are hooked up to her brain, along with other tubes linked throughout her entire body. Like all human supercomputers, she was wearing a white jumpsuit, which she was wearing when she was taken.

Her personality is equal parts tormented madman and logical computer. Most of her conceptions of morality and philosophy are utilitarian.

Weapons/Abilities: Orwell may be deaf, blind, and mute, but she is not without powers of her own. She can use any hardware or software her nervous system is hooked up to, be it a laptop, an entire city’s electrical grid, or another being’s nervous system. She can do this via unconnected tubes from the result of being taken and through wires that she can extend through her fingertips. Which leads to a second important ability: she can extend or shorten almost all tubes that stick outside her body, which could be used as makeshift whips or simply to give her a little room from what she’s interfacing with. She also has an incredibly high level of intelligence, and has experience running entire civilizations.

Partner: I don’t have one, but I do have a preference of how Orwell is fused to her partner, if that’s a thing I can do. I want her fused to her partner with her metal tubes linking their circulatory systems and nervous systems (if the partner has those) n’ stuff.

[MalkyTop]

Username: MalkyTop

Name: He goes by many names and will respond to all of them. (Hey, Old Red Eyes! Yo, Sackman! What's up, Khokhan?) He will probably even respond to anything else. But for simplicity's sake, you could probably just call him Mr. Bori.

Gender: Male...ish...?

Color: Dat’s a purple fish onna blue spider Subject to change, perhaps...

Race: ...Is Boogeyman a race?

Weapons: Well, he does have a particularly shady umbrella. He could probably use that as a bludgeoning weapon. It can widen to give him more shade if he really needs it. He also carries around an apparently empty sack. It's sort of a bag of infinite holding, though getting anything out of it could be very troublesome. Stuffing any living being into this sack will either drive that person to insanity or just kill him and trap his soul in there or something. It sort of torments poor Mr. Bori.

Abilities: A bit of a shapeshifter, though he specializes in turning into your worst nightmare. Though if your worst nightmare happens to be more of a situation than a person, then he can sort of still do that. He can put you in a dream-like state by locking eyes. Situational nightmares then play out in your mind. Or something like that. If he's around when you're sleeping, your dreams will invariably turn for the worst (not like there will be many sleeping in this battle, hm?). If he's in a closet or under a bed, he can transport himself to any other closet/beneath another bed. Technically, he can also move from shadow to shadow, but that usually requires total darkness and poor Mr. Bori is frightened of total darkness.

Description: Mr. Bori usually takes the form of a nicely dressed young man and would look normal if it weren't for the fact that he carries around an umbrella everywhere, whatever the weather. Also he has completely red eyes. These red eyes stay with him no matter what form he chooses. His mop of a hair is black and half-heartedly attempts to hide his eyes while his skin is oddly dark and shadowy. The umbrella casts more shade on it than it possibly could. He wears a neat white dress shirt and casual, brown pants and walks around in clacking, black shoes. He also has, slung over his shoulder, a rather large, coarse sack. It looks to be empty.

Mr. Bori is a rather morose guy, a bit self-deprecating and yet at the same time, condescending. He considers himself at least somewhat classy and polite, but is often haunted by feelings of guilt, which is augmented by the accusations of the souls in his sack. He keeps the sack around, though, because he feels it's his duty and to remember who exactly he's supposed to be. He tries to be a cryptic and all-knowing figure but is really just a bag full of uncertainty and nervousness. He doesn't particularly like being in the light, though it doesn't harm him much, but he absolutely fears total darkness. He is also in a state of self-denial; he certainly does not want to kidnap small children. Even if they are bad. This bag here’s just a reminder, yes, he has no cravings whatsoever. He likes to talk in poetry. Terza rima's his favorite and he will usually talk in that. Though depending on mood he may randomly switch to a different style, say, couplets. His tone is often weary and he often acts distracted and can sometimes be slow to respond. Time seems a little warped to him. One reason he has a pretty bad memory is because everything seems to move by pretty quickly sometimes and if he happens to not be paying attention for a moment (which he does often), then he would have probably missed a bunch of stuff.

Biography: Mr. Bori has been around since, like, forever. He was there when there was first fear and so his first few centuries had been spent feeding on that fear, bringing nightmares to life, partly so that he could eat, but mostly because it was fun. In those times, he felt that courage was the worst trait one could have. He travelled quickly around the world, just feasting on the masses and enjoying himself as a shadowy beast of fear and stuff.

At some point, his role changed. He was being used to scare children into obeying their parents, which meant that he had to develop some sort of sense of justice. And so in between just scaring people in general, he would come to collect disobedient children and stuff them into his sack. Although the sack could never be filled, partly because it sort of contained a pocket universe, it drove him crazy to think that he was carrying around a child's dead, decaying body. His sense of justice wavered as he questioned his very being and finally, after kidnapping a hefty number of children, after developing the fear that if he wasn't careful, his own bag would be able to kill him, he just stopped. He decided that he didn't want to be forced into this sort of role and just kept travelling around the world, trying not to think about his nature. When he found out there were other supernatural creatures that roamed about like he did, he looked down at them for giving in to their cravings and sometimes being so careless about what they did around humans. And then at some point, he decided that someone had to make sure that the world of the supernatural and the world of the humans had to stay separate and he took it upon himself to clean up after careless vampires or scare people away from a werewolf's hideout or other little things like that. But then he wondered if he was only doing this because he wanted an excuse to terrorize people and stopped for a bit. But then he swung back into this role. And then he wavered back and forth for a long time until he decided to just stop interacting with anybody at all because really it was just making connections with people who would eventually die and get out of his life and thus was a waste of time really. And yet there were some moments when he just had to go out and talk to someone. Even if it was only to condescend.

Partner: Anybody who makes it interesting, why not.

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Pictures for some reason. For some reason, he's happy in some of them.

[Wojjan]

I reserve, and will be in a team with Godbot!

[A Killer Cuppa Tea]

--Reserve with Solaris--

[Agent1022]

Reservin', because I spent all the time I should have been writing on drawing a pic of meh character :3

[Demonsul]

Additionally, you have until July 3 to get these profiles in. No big rush or anything, but don't procrastinate. We'll be waiting.

I found this very amusing. And then I was sad again.

So this is part of what you've been up to, I guess.

[Solaris]

Fillin a reserve, you can thank Tea

Username: So-Lar Is
Name: Quez
Color: This Pizza crust brown!, #B0571B
Gender: Male I suppose
Race: Pizza Elemental

Description: Quez is a floating mass of cheese, tomato sauce, toasted bread, and various shredded meats and vegetables. He also constantly emits grease and a pleasant odor. Quez himself is an odd elemental. Having not been summoned from the Magical Plane of Pizza very often (as in once), he is curious at everything that the real world has to offer and he is completely unaware of many normal concepts such as fighting (as he was summoned to find a wizards pizza), payment (other than being pulled out of daily frolic time means do as the kidnapper says), companionship (other than do what the person who summoned you said), and even breathing! He knows about eating though. He learned that the hard way the when he was summoned. He does not like being near mouths for that reason. While he is not versed in what friendship actually entails, his curious nature would lead to him being friendly with other beings, if he ever saw them. All he really wants is to feel useful, and he will do his best to follow whoever has summoned him.

Weapons/Abilities: As a magical entity representative of the popular modern food known as Pizza, Quez has a connection to all nearby examples of the food and can extend a small control over it! He can also extend the same control to any cheese, tomato sauce, toasted bread, or shredded meats and vegetables. In a pinch, he can also combine any of the ingredients into a pizza. In addition, being made out of pizza allows him to spit out pizza and pizza components out of his body. The same body is somewhat resistant to pain because of its magical nature. The only other advantage that Quez has is that as a magical entity he has a vast amount of magical energy inside of him that could be re-purposed for other, non-pizza uses.

Biography: The Elemental Planes. Millions upon millions of odd dimensions that not even the most intelligent mages and magic scholars could discover the origin of. However, since their discovery, wizards, adventurers, and villains alike have not been afraid of using these magical realms and the beings inside to their advantage. Quez knows nothing to very little about this. Being the magical representative of a food that began its origin in an age where magic was not as public and showy as it once was, Quez and his entire elemental plane hasn’t gotten a chance to see the real world. Having only been summoned once, and for a very short time, Quez does not understand many mortal concepts. He is simply a magical entity who was minding his own business when he was chosen to join with another being in a fight to the death.

Partner: A Killer Cuppa Tea's Tamani Turok. In addition, me and Tea have talked and if we could have a specific kind of mash up that takes advantage of Quez's magical nature in a... rather delicious way, I'd prefer it, I'll fill you guys in over IRC if that's alright.

[ch00_bakka]

Actually, I'm making a non-reused character now.
Username: ch00_bakka
Name: Anton Dekrinos LaVache
Color: Randomly chosen dark green. #234217.
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Description: Anton is about five and a half feet tall, and has long blond hair and pointed ears (of course). His eyes are blue. He usually wears a white striped shirt, black suspenders, black pants, a beret, and white face paint. So: a mime. An elven mime.
Weapons/Abilities: Anton can form invisible walls with his magical mime powers. He is also a decent acrobat, and can usually survive most short falls. He carries a unicycle and juggling clubs with him, and is able to use these as weapons (juggling clubs) and transportation (unicycle).
Biography: Anton was born into a family of clowns. Not mimes, clowns. Very loud clowns. He could barely walk in his house without stepping on a pile of horns or into a bucket of paint. He took a vow of silence when he left home, and became a mime. He studied with the great mimagicians of his homeland, and learned to channel his silence into magic.
Partner:

[A Killer Cuppa Tea]

Username: A Killer Cuppa Tea
Name: Tamani Turok (Goes by his last name)
Color: A nice, pleasant "DarkOrange"
Gender: Male
Race: Minotaur

Description: Turok is a half man half bull mythical creature from the legends of Ancient Greece. He stands on his hind legs and uses his bulky forearms to grip the terrifying axe that is his weapon. His body is mostly covered in golden-brown fur, save for his face and inner forearms, which look rather like brown leather. He stands much taller than the average human, almost doubling the size of most, and his weight is just as impressive. He takes great pride in his body and strives to maintain its well built appearance by keeping as fit as possible. He can be short tempered at times, and is known to fly into a rage when provoked. His horns are sharpened to a point and curl rather like a ram's. Although he is considered small for his race, he is still much stronger than any normal human being.

Weapons/Abilities: As is befitting for a member of his warrior species, Turok utilizes his extreme strength in combat. He has virtually no knowledge of magic, but his battle experience make him a tough opponent to face. His primary weapon is a huge, finely smithed axe that is much too heavy for most mortals. It is ornately decorated with many fantastic gems and has been tailored to be as efficient a weapon as possible. Although this is his preferred weapon of choice, his barehanded combat is almost as scary due to his brute strength. Finally, anything that he can lay his hands on, such as small trees or perhaps other weapons could be used as an impromptu improvisation. He might struggle with smaller items, though, and has never been one for projectile weapons such as bows and guns.

Biography: Turok's ferocious appearance and proud demeanour lead the people of Ancient Greece to fear and even worship him as a deity, sending sacrificial humans into his lair to appease his appetite and prevent him from venting his rage on the general populace. Indeed, he came from a large and ancient tribe of warrior nomads whose very culture sanctified the glory of battle. From a very young age he was raised to seek out combat and a worthy opponent. Unfortunately, after demolishing many civilizations and besting many unworthy opponents, the bloodthirsty ways of his tribe led to infighting when new opponents could not be found. One by one the people of his race fell, until - finally - he was the only one left. Cursing his fate and the way of his people, he decided to live out the rest of his days as a hermit, fighting no longer. The cowering humans feared him so much that they gave him free meals and gifts in hopes of avoiding any conflict. The old bloodlust does sometimes arise in him, though he has found no opponent worth fighting in the old ways. He is well aware of the fact that he is the last of his race, and that there is no way for him to continue his lineage. He will fight to protect not only his honour, but the honour of his entire race to the death if he has to!

Partner: Solaris's Quez. In addition, me and Soaris have talked and if we could have a specific kind of mash up that takes advantage of Quez's magical nature in a... rather delicious way, we'd much prefer it, I think Solaris will fill you guys in over IRC if that's alright.

[ch00_bakka]

A half-pizza half-minotaur. What the hell. I mean, it just sounds so...

Cheesy

[engineclock]

A half-pizza half-minotaur. What the hell. I mean, it just sounds so...

Cheesy

DISQUALIFIED

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:3

[cyber95]

I'm not entering this but I boycott ch00's text color. I boycott it hard.

[ch00_bakka]

Fine, I'll change it. Gosh. Is Slightly darker grey better?

[engineclock]

It'll do, though it's still a bit light. Generally if you have to highlight it to read it, it's not a good color (but of course that doesn't account for different screen resolutions).

[Solaris]

Text colors need to be easily visible for everyone and they need to be distinctive so that people can see what character is where.

If you must use a grey that basically blends in with the default forum background, then you should probably also use a [background] tag and to a background color that wouldn't blend in.

[ch00_bakka]

OK. The constant [background] tags are annoying to type, so I'll just use a different color. Other than a shad of grey.

[engineclock]

Listen up, hos, this thing is starting soon and a lot of you still have outstanding reserves. Fill em up or you're not getting in and I'll have to come to your house and take all your shrubs.

[Agent1022]

Username: Agent1022

Name: Sergeant Grace “GG” Gray

Color: #444444

Gender: Female

Race: Posthuman, Homo superior, genetically engineered human.

Description:

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Definitely a girl.

Grace Gray stands at five foot seven, with dirty blond hair that comes down to just below equally dirty ears*. As a sergeant in the Entente Posthuman Training Corps, she is the sort of person who radiates authority, as well as quite a lot of anger. This does not come from her build – she does not cut a very imposing figure – but from her visage, which is often gritted with hatred. Her temperament is antisocial and aggressive – this is in part because she holds a burgeoning hate towards her genetic engineers who deliberately created a female posthuman in the male-dominated world of the Corps, and in part because growing up she sought to emulate the alpha males who sat at the top of the social heap. Thus she often holds herself ramrod-straight as befits a soldier, and has a violent aversion to being helped or being considered ‘dependent’ in any way. She may have a softer side, but if there is she’s not showing it. She tends to divide situations into sides of conflict, like war, and work from there. She wears grey camo (no conscious pun intended) and usually constrains her hair in that camo cloche…thing she’s wearing in the pic.
She usually demands that she be addressed by ‘Sergeant’ or ‘Gray’, never ‘Grace’. The closest anyone gets to a term of endearment with her is the nickname ‘GG’**.
A point to take note is that by this point in the future, swearing and the expletives involved have changed somewhat. That should probably be taken into account when writing for her. A look at Ashley Hayden over in PS should give you an idea, since Gray originates from the same universe***.
----
*Why is her visage in the picture reasonably clean? There are two possibilities: that this is a promotional photo, which is unlikely since blood doesn’t sell, or that I am not in fact very good at drawing and can’t put little details like dirt in a picture.
**GG, short for ‘good game’. Slang derived in a future where FPS games are virtually indistinguishable from real combat. The two are virtually interchangeable, down to the actual deaths in the most extreme FPS games. Of course, Gray is definitely no gametripper. You don’t make sergeant by becoming confused about whether you’re going to wake up in your simulator when the enemy pulls the trigger. And plus, the ‘this must be all a game’ thing’s been done already.
***A quick guide:

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Fuck = copulate = coplate, plate
Fuck = intercourse = incourse, course (more severely expletive than plate)
Shit = stercus
Bitch = dropped stitch (rhyming slang) = drop, drog
Bastard = illegitimate = iljit, jitmit
General derogative term = derog = drog (used in the same manner as drog, above), drogtim (distinct from drog, less derogative)
Hell = …Hell
…haven’t got anything for other expletives yet. Be creative.

Weapons/Abilities: Gray has been engineered to have superhuman reflexes and reaction time, to the point where she can instinctively react to a stimulus effectively before it happens. This effectively gives her a millisecond-range precognition towards danger or other reflexive stimuli. This is because her entire reflex arc is composed of quantum neurons, a biophysical construct that allows her okay you know what it just does ok? (Just don’t ever intend to startle her from behind). As a genetically engineered human she also possesses superior stamina and energy to a standard Homo sapiens, and works out a lot as befits an alpha soldier. Of course, she can become overconfident because of this, and her reflexes are fallible if she truly doesn’t expect something to happen. In addition to this, if someone violates causality her entire system is thrown and takes crucial seconds to recalibrate.
She also carries an ENT-15 Antiplasma Rifle, which she named ‘Talula’. For some reason which is not frantic IRC questioning.

Biography: Hadrian, fourth planet of the star Aesus, on the fringe of the galactic empire of the Entente, looked like a grey crystal ball from space. Occasionally, the clouds of smoke and fog shrouding the planet’s three continents would part to reveal features on the landmasses. On the largest of the three, lights flared constantly amongst patches of brown vegetation, with patches of green where planetary oxygen production took place. On the other two, featureless blue metal constructs coated the planetary surface, encroaching on the waters and blurring the boundary between land and sea like a grotesque mechanical parody of a cancerous growth. In places, tendrils snaked from the planetary tumor towards the larger continent, spreading the blue on whatever land they reached.

“BLOODY! PLATING! HELL!”

Sergeant Grace Gray stood on a rocky hillock in a wartorn wheatfield. In front of her, trampled stalks of wheat lay at the bottom of a roughly-dug trench. In the trench sat, stood and squatted 14th Entente Squadron Division D (Aesus Front) – a ragtag collection of ages, skills and experiences. Behind her, a grim horizon of blue buildings and spires of smoke rising from behind the dying woods. This was East Perimeter, guarding the command center for the remaining Entente forces on Hadrian.

“You do PLATING realize, all you drogs – that this isn’t plating training anymore?”

Everyone knew better than to nod, or to react at all. GG was not looking for backtalkers, or backblinkers, or for that matter backbreathers. Sergeant Gray held full attention.

“We are the plating Aesus Front! Stercus, do you even know why we were stationed here?”

Silence, of course. There would be crickets chirping, but crickets can’t breathe ash and pollutants.

“This is where SmarT, those…those incoursing jitmits…this is where they dare to plating try and break the ENTENTE TRADE CHAIN! And they-”

She stopped and whirled around as the woods erupted with gunfire. In between the trees, the light from fires and antiplasma gave their own eerie glow as chaos reigned.

“STERCUS! PLATING PLATING STERCUS! READY POSITIONS! READY-”

The soldiers scrambled as the woods burned, and trees fell, and behind them frameworks of blue metal rose-

“Advance team, this is Sergeant Gray! Advance team, come in!”

“Sergeant! We’re being massacred over he-OH PLATE! They’ve breached midperimeter! Repeat, they’ve breachedAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH-”

Hadrian was yet another devastating loss in the SmarT War of 2134. Perhaps it might not have been so if East Perimeter hadn’t fallen. Perhaps it might not have fallen if Sergeant Grace Gray hadn’t vanished inexplicably.

Partner: Take your pick. I'm planning on running her characterization using her partner as a foil, so pick well.

[Ixcalibur]

Username: Ixcalibur
Name: Abraham
Color: This colour.
Gender: Technically genderless but is shaped like a male
Race: Leecher

Leechers' bodies are shaped like humans but as though by someone who didn’t understand that a shoe was an item of clothing and not how a human foot ended. Their apparent clothing is just their skin. Their physical features are exaggerated, leaving them looking like something out of a funhouse mirror. Their eyes remain blank and are not actually used to perceive with, just as decoration. From their back emerge several flesh coloured tentacles of variable length. These tentacles end in points which can open outwards, like a mechanical claw.

All the knowledge on Leechers is spun from folklore about them and is incredibly unreliable. People have been known to say that before the encountered humans they were formless creatures devoid of any notion of what life was; mindlessly reproducing and dying. It was the discovery of humans and the lives that they led that caused them to want more. If the stories are to be believed they altered themselves taking on the disturbing tableau that they wear to this day (minus the tentacles) and in their own little communities they carried out very human activities attempting to reproduce the emotion that they had seen. This unsurprisingly did not work, and so they altered again, becoming as they are now.

They are parasites; they latch onto a person and may feed off them for years. They pierce their victim’s body with their tentacles which when opened act as a passageway for blood which they feed on and for emotions which they revel in. They take a limited amount of control of their victim’s mind, forcing them to be unable to perceive their leecher, or the leechers of those around them. Some stories claim that they are silent like the wind, able to move through walls or even fly. These stories are all likely false, ways of attempting to account for their ability to hide in plain sight.

As previously mentioned Leechers love emotions and they have a limited control of their hosts; they use this control to cause their hosts to experience emotions that they particularly enjoy.

Description: As a Leecher Abraham’s face is all contorted and odd looking, with features out of proportion and used for nothing more than decoration. His hair is short and brown, though in reality it’s just a shaped and coloured extension of his skin. He appears to be wearing a dark grey waistcoat, a white shirt and a pair of grey trousers, however again this is just what his skin looks like. Protruding from his back are three flesh coloured tentacles. His hands more resemble claws than hands, and his feet are shaped like shiny black shoes.

Abraham is a sadistic bastard. Though don’t get the wrong impression, he’s not insane. He’s incredibly calm, polite and well-spoken when he deems it necessary. Some would describe him as a perfect gentleman if it was not for the part where he rips into your skin causes you to believe your worst nightmare has come true and then leaves you a ruined husk of a being after he has wrung all the flavour he can out of your delicious emotions.

Weapons/Abilities: From a strictly physical point of view Abraham’s tentacles are strong enough to pierce the skin of his enemies. However his main strength lies in the manipulation of his host. While he cannot cause them to feel specific emotions he can cause hallucinations which make them feel the emotions he desires. If he wishes he can also make his host completely oblivious to his existence.

Biography: Abraham is rare amongst leechers in that he does not care for pleasant emotions. He seeks only to cause his hosts pain and suffering, gorging himself on every mouthwatering bite of their misery. While most Leechers latch on to a host and stick with them for years or longer, Abraham goes through hosts pretty damn quick. He latches onto them, causes them to experience their most horrific nightmares and then moves on, leaving them gibbering wrecks.

This is essentially how he lives his life. He enjoys it very much.

Partner: Whomever.

[WoodlandBeef]

Username: WoodlandBeef (Tigersteak or Tora if you prefer)

Name(s): Belgen; respectfully known as The First (Plus One).

Race: Golem Construct

Color: #003153 Because it's shmancy Also, due to two personalities, use [ b ] tags for Loki. Use [ i ] tags for Okri during dialogue I guess.

Description: In appearance, Belgen the construct is an enchanted stone golem that stands just shy of nine feet tall and weighes about half a ton and has a large diamond crystal embedded in the chest to house the souls. Unlike their fleshy form, Belgen is a (mostly) normally proportioned golem with all sorts of jagged, hard, stony edges littered with all sorts of smaller, gleaming enchanted crystals full of mystical energies. The one difference from the average work of Brogin is that Belgen's upper torso is broader as to accommodate two heads with at least a head and a half of space between them.

Both heads of Belgen look nearly identical; square helmeted heads with no distinct features save for the glowing interior of the mouths and the fact one head has rubies for eyes, while the other has sapphires for eyes. Loki resides in the ruby-eyed head, while his brother is in the sapphire-eyed head. Neither brother can understand the other; Loki hears Okri as a kind of gargling-gurgling-bubbly garble and Okri hears Loki as a more prehistoric flier's screetching. (Think Gloop and Gleep to Zok from The Herculoids). One strangely unique quirk is that neither brother can directly understand their sibling. Everyone else hears them just fine though. Individually, their personas differ somewhat. Loki is loud, headstrong, and bighearted although he's a bit of a lummox. He tries more to help others but he is naturally clumsy as he has not totally adjusted to having the power of a golem at his fingertips. Okri is more reserved, thoughtful, and careful. He likes getting his way and exploits anything and everything to get it, even his own brother's kindness. Ultimately, Okri wants to be rid of his brother, but he has yet to figure a way to do so.

Abilities: Immense physical strength and fortitude against physical elements since Belgen is made of stone. A rather high natural resistance to magic both due to the fact the golem was crafted by a master Dwarven smith, and the vast amount of crystals caked into Belgen's body.

Biography: Belgen is a golem construct, the first of its kind so it is both experimental and revered in Dwarven history of Gol'hurdur as it has a rather unique nature. The Paragon Brogin was a master smith, and was credited with the discovery of creating golems. The constructs were designed to be multipurpose tools, monuments, and war machines. It was a technology that brought great fortune to the Dwarven people of Gol'hurdur, but it was not without cost. Crafting a golem required drastic amounts of magic energy, high quality stone, and fuel. No matter how masterful the smith, one cannot craft life. In order to bring life into that which is not, life must be taken from the living. In the case of golem smithing, Brogin was forced to take souls from the living and craft it into his creations. Thus, golems were made at the expense of Dwarven lives.

Loki and Okri were a pair of siamese Dwarven twin brothers joined together at their torso. They only had two legs and two arms between them, which made life awkward. What made life even more awkward is that neither could actually communicate with their sibling by any form, except physical or indirect contact. Needless to say, growing up to be independent of their other half was both challenging and painful as the most effective way of communication usually entailed hitting each other. It was an odd and aggravating life, but they made it work for better or worse. That is...until Loki ruined Okri's love life and drove the latter to seek physical separation.

The brothers volunteered themselves to Brogin when he said that becoming golems would each give them their own body. Promises don't always work out like that though, because Brogin did not forsee that the twins' souls were bound to each other and therefore could only be crafted into one construct. The twins were rightly displeased to still be stuck together, but there was no way to go back. The uniqueness of their new form was recorded in the Memories and the brothers recieved their new name, Belgen. Regardless, the construct was put to work in the mines to aid in building new passageways deeper into the Stone. One of the tunnel support pillars began to crumble and Belgen rushed to hold it up long enough for the miners to escape. Funny how the 'powers that' be would decide to pluck a huge stone construct through a rift just before it got to the pillar.

[Anomaly]

Alright, we're starting soon. Signups closed.

[Wojjan]

Name: Currently Asvattha. For reference, we'll call her Norië.
Gender: Female, but very prone to change.
Colour: Teal
Race: Noriëel.

Abilities: Noriëel are spirits of mythology. Not that they appear in stories, they invoke stories. At any point in time a Noriëel can invoke a story, a legend, a fairytale, whatever it can manage of tales that are remembered by at least one person. That story manifests itself in their environment as they please, in any way they can conjure up for it to do so in their minds.

Description: There is no physical description or mental trait that captures Norië entirely. Her disposition and appearance change depending on what story she currently has taken to become her.

Asvattha, at least, is a giant tree, not entire dissimilar to Yggdrassil. It is the world tree, wild branches so high and spread apart that they reach, allegedly, to the heavens. Bark so smooth that no human could climb it, as if a natural protection of this glorified work. Foliage that could compete in brightness to emeralds. Roots so thick and entwined that the road between heaven and hell is one, and large.

And in the middle of this hollow giant, blue flames and white light that betrays Norië.

Biography: Since spirits are not strictly a living being and rather energy given life, they are often hunted down for their powers, used in trinkets such as warding bracelets, amulets of the Jiang Shi, dreamcatchers, evil eyes...

The Noriëel are no exception. One stray spirit was close to capture. Let's call her Norië, since they all lack actual names. Grasping at a last straw, Norië channeled the myth of life, Asvattha. Rooted to the ground, she stood hanging over her assailant.

Afterwards, the hunter might have believed to call forth El Naddaha, or a similar legend, because before he was able to even see the tree in full, Norië had disappeared.

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Remember back when profiles were short?

[Anomaly]

In total darkness, eight beings awoke, none aware of the presence of any others, none able to move anything but their eyes. Some may have panicked. Some may simply have been utterly confused. For what may have felt like hours, nothing happened, and no sound was heard beyond a constant, faint whispering, almost inaudible despite the utter silence.

Suddenly, a bright light flooded the room, briefly blinding any who were capable of being blinded. After the original shock, the eight were finally able to observe their surroundings. Each was, by some unknown force, stuck to the surface of some sort of table, suspended in the air and facing the center of the room. The situation was only exacerbated by their surroundings - gothic arches and pillars segued suddenly into blindingly sparse white walls. Horrifying imagery that may well have been alive gave way to innumerable eyes of varying sizes. In the center of the large, cylindrical room stood two figures. One was a solid black, ill-defined humanoid figure dotted with red eyes and a glaring smile. The other, a red chimera, parts of its body taken from innumerable animals.

The chimera's multiple animalistic heads swiveled around, observing each of the eight with great interest. Satisfied, its mouths opened to speak in unison.

"Greetings, my doves. Welcome to your new lives. You chosen few are about to embark on an unimaginable journey. Your lives up to this point have been meaningless compared to what you are about to experience. In spite of the many experiences of your lifetimes, it would be hard to say that you have truly lived. You will all be blessed with new life upon this day.

"But all will not be easy, doves. Many of you will not survive this day. Your new lives may prove to be too much for you, and you will perish. Most of you must perish; only those who can survive all three trials shall truly receive this blessing.

The chimera slowly paced around the room as it spoke, intently watching each of the eight restrained beings. "Each of you will also have to work with another. The bond between the two of you must be held dear - protect their life as if it is your own.

"Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. You mustn't remain strangers to each other if you hope to survive." The chimera suddenly leaped back to the center of the room. "Tormy, if you would."

The shadowy figure that had until now remained in place suddenly burst out in hideous laughter. "The Spectator, ladies and gentlemen! Let's all give her a round of applause!" All who possessed hands found their hands forcefully colliding in a bastardized clapping motion for several moments before whipping back to their sides, colliding hard with the rocky, engraved surfaces of the tables.

"Now, then, you can call me the Tormentor! Without further ado, introductions!" The black figure floated into the air, ignoring any notion of "physics", and sprung toward a table containing what might have been a beautiful woman, were it not for the distinct lack of eyes and the mechanical tubing spread across her body.

"This here is Catherine Orwell! Or, rather, it was. She's just 'Orwell' now! When she was born, scientists tore parts of her body out without care, then filled her with electronics and grew her in a tube! She was made to control a sort of supercomputer that would allow her to control a huge part of her society, but she didn't get to do that for long! Don't bother thanking us. Now, then, these loose tubes here..." The Tormentor forcefully grabbed several unconnected tubes and waved them around. "She can connect these to pretty much anything electronic, and it lets her control it. Too bad being a computer has possibly left her insane!"

The Tormentor shot over to a warped, tentacled human-like figure, lacking in eyes and looking as if its creator had never seen a human before. "This here is Abraham! I know it's very hard to tell, but he's not actually a human. I was surprised too! Anyway, he's what's known as a 'Leecher'. Those tentacles aren't for show, you see! He can latch onto someone and feed off of both their blood and their emotions! But this guy's special among Leechers. He only likes negative emotions, and likes to cause as much pain and suffering as possible! Now that's something I can approve of. I feel sorry for whoever gets paired with this guy! Actually, no, no I don't. Good luck!"

Next up was a dirty-looking woman in military fatigues. Anger seethed in her eyes despite the paralysis. "Say hello to Sergeant Grace Gray! She's a genetically engineered superhuman, which leaves her an entire half-step above regular humans on the scale of things which are not terrible! Needless to say, she's still pretty close to the bottom. Despite the fact that most of these superhumans are male, some jackass decided to make her female instead! She's a little mad about this. She has fast reflexes and a big gun, so you probably shouldn't try to kill her straight-up! Also, a word of advice. She hates it when you don't call her 'Grace', so be sure to always call her that!"

The Tormentor headed over to a large, two-headed golem, the eyes of each head gleaming with a different gemstone. "This here is Belgen! They were once a pair of siamese Dwarves named Loki and Okri, and they never really got along well with each other. They decided to become golems to break apart from each other, but hilariously enough, it didn't work! Neither of them can really understand what the other is saying, but anyone besides them can understand both. After they became a golem, they were given a new name and sent to work in the mines. They happened to be on their way to rescue some miners from a collapsing tunnel when we took them hear. Guess all those Dwarves went splat then! Hilarious!"

Floating in front of the next table was what could only be called a cloud of pizza. "This is... Um. This is a pizza elemental. You can call it Quez if you want. This thing is pretty much completely useless! I mean, unless you want it to make a pizza, because it has the ability to control pizza ingredients! It apparently comes from the 'Elemental Plane of Pizza', which is exactly what it sounds like. But don't worry, he has a few... delicious surprises in store for you! You should also try eating him, because he loves that."

Next was a half-man, half-bull, a creature straight out of Greek mythology. "Tamani Turok, everyone! If you couldn't tell, he's a minotaur! Although he looks huge, he's actually pretty small compared to others of his race. He could crush most of you pretty easily, I'm sure! Especially with that big axe of his - it's not just for show! He's horribly short-tempered, so don't get him mad if you like all of your limbs where they are! Actually, do get him mad. It'll be funny. Even if you get rid of that axe somehow, he can still beat you to death with anything else! Trees, chairs, orphanages... The list goes on! Some stupid humans thought he was a god, but he isn't. He probably has a big ego from that though. Moving on."

The Tormentor hovered next to what looked like an average man, except for the pure red eyes and the unusually shady umbrella. "This here is Mr. Bori! Well, that's one of his many names. Call him whatever you like! Mr. Boring here is a Boogeyman! He can turn into your worst nightmare at will, and if you're asleep then his mere presence will really ruin your dreams! See that sack of his? Don't get trapped in there! It'll trap your soul for eternity, or at least drive you insane! He feels pretty guilty about all the children he killed with that thing years ago, and he says he's stopped doing that. But has he really? I guess you'll have to find out!"

Upon the final table was what looked like an enormous tree, but scaled down tremendously. "And last, we have Norië! Well, I guess she's calling herself 'Asvattha', but why go to the trouble of memorizing multiple names? Anyway, she's a Noriëel, a spirit of mythology! Know of any myths? Of course you do. She'll take these and manifest herself as them, like she's doing right now! By the way, she's not actually this tiny. This is technically a 'World Tree', which typically tend to be very, very big. But I couldn't really fit that in there! She'll be back to normal size when you're sent on to the first round!"

The Tormentor returned to the center of the room, still floating in the air. With a wave of his hands, the tables arranged themselves one next to the other. Orwell and Abraham. Grace and Belgen. Quez and Tamani. Mr. Bori and Norië. The tables immediately flipped to be parallel to each other, and started moving closer to each other.

"Your first field of battle will be the Libitina Municipal Hospital, a facility dedicated to the treatment of illnesses and such! Well, it was. Things aren't nearly as orderly and cleanly there as they used to be! Most of the patients died after the 'incident', but the few that remain have become insane, some of them monstrous! The doctors that survived are still quite obsessed with performing medicine. Unfortunately, they no longer want to cure people so much as experiment on them! Even so, maybe you'll be able to find help. After all, you're going to have quite the medical condition of your own in a few seconds!" The tables collided, slowly crushing each pair in-between. They would soon awake to find themselves much closer to each other than before...