The Battle Majestic (Round 4 - Magpie Skies)

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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[/center]another[/url] Grand Battle thingy competition. Please don't run away screaming. If you don't know why you should run in the first place, continue onwards.

INTRO

So, you enjoy dabbling in a spot of writing every now and again, and fancy putting your skill to the test with others of similar dispositions? Well, erm, look no further. Please, don't. Here is far enough. Well, actually, go to the end of this sentence at least, because this sentence tells you to visit the first of the five links above in order to read a summary of the rules and the general idea behind the competition that's better than what I could do. There's a summary here, but it is only a summary...

RULES

Basically, you are going to be in control of a character of your own design, who's just been plucked out of their home universe and deposited into a competition without any prior knowledge of the proceedings. This competition is to be a fight to the death between eight of the multiverse's best, and you are one of them. But your fate does not rest on your ability to run around slaughtering people - no, for this is a writing battle! Every round, there shall be one death, and this death is to be determined by who is judged to have performed the worst over the previous rounds. Then, with one player fewer to deal with, everyone will be whisked off to a new setting and put through the above again. Got that?

Now, to make things easier, you can use a RESERVE system to claim the right to post within two hours of reserving. This could provide you with some time to get things straight, to sort out how your character might react to a situation and to make sure that you're not going to cause any continuity errors, without having to rush, stressed other whether or not someone else is going to post first and spoil your masterplan. After that time, though, others can reserve or post, though hopefully you'll be up against other chivalrous enough to let you go before them...

PLAYERS

As part of the master scheme of ending up with eight of these running their course, then having the winners fight each other at the end, a third wave of battles started up recently. Having plucked out the 16 combatants, there were still some interested parties left over, so I've offered to host the sixth one here and now for those people. They were then added to, to produce the following cast:

Drakenforge - Wolf/Iris (#400000) - Crushed and drowned in a collapsing seadome - R3
Baphomet - Vexmagog (#4000BF) - Banished to a dimension of pure order - R3
Schazer - Sen (#40BF00)
Weldar - Steven Taylor (#008000
NotTheAuthor - Jacob Helix (#000080)
Kaikostrike - Alexander Striensand (#800000) - Got bit by Wolf a lot in the middle of a burning ring of trees - R1
redskap - Blitz Wykerr (#FF0000)
Korbz - John Swift (#4040FF) - Had his spine broken by crystal shards thrust into the air by a volcanic eruption - R2
Pharmacy -Eryntse (#FF5C48)

SUBMISSION FORM

If those names haven't put you off (hopefully you want to seize the opportunity to work with such talented names - I know I did!), then here's the form you'll need to fill in. Hey, reservees have to fill it in as well if they want their spot (except for Schazer, who's already PM'ed me hers - I'll put it in a spoiler in a post after this one)

Username: If you have trouble filling this in, we appreciate your enthusiasm, but please, seriously...
Name: No, not yours silly - the name of the character whom you have invented for this battle.
Gender: Kinda helpful. M, F, N/A or Other are your choices here, really. If you haven't fallen into one of those categories, I'd very much love to hear about it.
Race: Any and every possible species or type of creature that you can come up is fine by me. Human? Undead? Neptunian? Demon? Robot? Kitchen sink? Whatever you want, fine by me.
Colour: In order to make it easy to see who's posted what, you pick out a specific colour text (and/or, if you fancy it, a special coloured background) in which you'll write all your posts and, at a later stage, other players will write your character's speech or actions in as well. Currently, this,this,this and this are reserved by me for overlording stuff, and any of the colours listed above by combatant names are as well.
Weapon: Well, this is a battle, so one important thing to know is: what's your player's mode of attack? Describe it as best you can. Bear in mind that your character doesn't necessarily use a weapon - maybe their bodies are their weapon, or perhaps they use magic or something similar. Be creative!
Abilities: Whether or not your character has a weapon, chances are that's probably not the end of the story. What other powers or abilities do they have? Magic-wielders, here's the point where you can go beserk about it, whereas others might wish to have special skills or powers that might give them an edge. If you can write it in convincingly, then you can have it.
Description: So, what does your character look like? What's their mindset towards things? If you have a picture, or are able to draw one, that would be excellent, but it's no big deal - all we need to know is what your character is like, both appearance and personality-wise, so that they can be written for sucecssfully.
Biography: OK, chances are your character hasn't just materialised out of thin air. They've been around for a while, have lived a life and all that. Let's hear about it. Having some character depth is helpful for writing for them, so just come up with a little backstory for them.

AND NOW, THE INTRODUCTION - AN EXAMPLE, IF YOU LIKE, OF THE THINGS TO COME:

SpoilerShow

[The room was big. Or at least, one had to assume it was big. It was black, anyway. That much was easy to discern. There was some grey in places, namely the catwalk that penetrated the blackness in such an alien manner, and there were a few dark purples in the upholstery, but mostly it was black. And black is exceptionally good at creating the illusion of a void, an ebony emptiness stretching on for an eternity or three. In this case, it probably did - the entity occupying the very end of the catwalk, where the path widened to form a circle three times as wide as the walkway was, was not one for interior design. Actually, as you might have already been able to tell, they weren't one for having an interior or an exterior in the first place. They had yet to be able to figure out floors, walls, roofs, let alone put them together and subsequently decorate them.

"He" didn't have a name. "He" can never remember (if what "he" does is remember) being given one by parents or guardians or the like. That hasn't stopped "him" getting names attached to him, of course. Formality works off of names, although in the case of one or two of the names "he"'d been given, formality is perhaps pushing it. The politest, and the most frequently used when "he" was present, was The Exectutive, for he always made the executive decision, and most of the time it was for an execution...

The Executive was at that moment reclined, resting rather restlessly (if that is at all possible) on a couch that bore more than a passing resemblance to one that you could find in any good psychiatrist's office. He... OK, let's face it, he was a he. Or at the very least, he looked like a he just then. Right, now, he had his arms crossed on his chest, which was somewhat upsetting the man (this one was a man, not an intangible entity) who was playing amateur psychiatrist. He'd fabricated himself a quaint and comfy armchair to sit in, had crossed his legs and steepled his fingers, although he'd stopped short at dragging in a skeleton and a potted plant, just after stopping himself from getting a pipe to smoke. He had a monocle though, but that was norm.

Talis had been wearing a monocle for some time, possibly out of the misheld belief that it made him look more evil in conjunction with the obligatory goatee, more likely (and indeed truthfully) because he was getting on a bit and his left eye wasn't as good as it used to be. His official role indeed called for him to be evil, for in any universe, there

must be antagony for there to be liveliness and functionality - so much comes from the struggle of good and evil that to remove the evil from the equation would result in... well, Talis wasn't sure. He'd never been away long enough for anyone to try to destabilise proceedings like that. As far as he could discern, the biggest problem would be afternoon tea suddenly becoming a rather awkward occasion, although he expected that there would probably be much deeper and profounder impacts on the universe than just that...

Still, now wasn't the time for such trifles. The Executive was preparing himself, getting ready to open up his mind to Talis, to let his troubles gush out, in the hope that Talis could make everything better for him.

"This... "Director"," - this word was accompanied by a fair bit of phlegm - "starts a game. A nice little game, very entertaining. It's been much more interesting to see multiversal conflict rather than having to put up with merely focusing in on a particular one - it gives the proceedings zest and spice; that bit of variety. Perfect at making the evenings disappear, Talis. And then, what's this, up pops a second battle? Well, I certainly took that opportunity-"

No, you didn't, thought Talis. You merely instructed me to get someone to put one of their creations on the line for your pleasure. You didn't even raise a hand, much less use it to seize the moment.

"-and Maxwell, he's most enjoyable. Sruix knows how to make a character, though I dunno how good he his at keeping that character alive, per se-"

That's because you weren't bothered enough to conjure up a fighting machine yourself, Executive. Sruix is a pacifist to the core, or would be if he had a core. He has a cortex, though. Close enough.

"But yes, then I had a commitment to that battle, yes, and I still do - I have to, right? Despite that, there's still the first fight - once you've started something, you gotta see how it ends. Curiousity. You'd never forgive yourself if you didn't. So I was a tad stretched. But that wasn't too bad..."

Yes, yes, because you had us to do most of the petty administrative work for you. Thanks for that.

"And then up pops a third, and then up pops a fourth, and then up pops a fifth! Five conflicts, with conflicting schedules! Unbearable! Atrocious! Inconcievable! And that is not the end! Good grief, no, of course not, for you say Sruix attends this multiversal meeting of masters to find that Mr. Director plans for eight. Eight! How is one supposed to keep up with eight?! Etiquette demands it, but it is impossible, Talis. What can I do? What can I do?"

By this point, The Executive was doing a very good job of getting on Talis's nerves. But then that was fairly normal as well. Working with someone with attitude was commonplace for him, though usually the attitude he came across was "if it moves, kill it" rather than "if it moves, pay it to kill everything else that moves". Still, he was about to drop the bait and initiate stage one...

"I have an idea, sir. What if you were to host your own battle? I know, I know, it sounds like a bit of work, but think about it. It is a bit of work, and henceforth it would be a permissable excuse for not keeping up with the affairs of the other battles. I know for a fact that the Observer has a fun time balancing his affairs, hosting and participating as he does. Sruix knows of a few other creators who were disappointed that they were unable to get into the last wave, and I suspect that, if we can round them up and get the last few punters together, we could be started almost immediately."

The pseudo-logic was laughable, but it served its purpose well. The Executive was obviously more than interested by the proposition, and having risen from his couch, was about to voice so:

"That, Talis, is probably the best idea you've had in all the time I've had the displeasure of knowing you. Get Sruix on it immediately. It'll be a much better use of his time than those silly music things he does... I mean, this latest one of his, "Music Of The Spheres" or something - ridiculous, let me tell you..."

"Um, that was about two months ago, Sir. He's up to Music Of The Dodecahedrons now."

"Good grief, really? Thank goodness you came up with this then - we gotta get him doing something more productive before he runs out of shapes and has to pester me to invent a new one for him..."

"Very well. I shall see to it immediately."

"Exactly. Now, run along now. I'm going to check up on... oh, I think the Battle Royale..."

Talis rose, gave the required salute, and headed back down the catwalk. At what he judged to be a relatively safe distance, he paused briefly and heaved a slight sigh of relief.

Perfectly done...

tl;dr - An entity called The Executive has assigned two of his minions, Talis and Sruix, to host a Grand Battle for him, at Talis's suggestion. But it seems that Talis might have some other motive for suggesting it, bar his master's entertainment...

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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another[/url] Grand Battle thingy competition. Please don't run away screaming. If you don't know why you should run in the first place, continue onwards.

INTRO

So, you enjoy dabbling in a spot of writing every now and again, and fancy putting your skill to the test with others of similar dispositions? Well, erm, look no further. Please, don't. Here is far enough. Well, actually, go to the end of this sentence at least, because this sentence tells you to visit the first of the five links above in order to read a summary of the rules and the general idea behind the competition that's better than what I could do. There's a summary here, but it is only a summary...

RULES

Basically, you are going to be in control of a character of your own design, who's just been plucked out of their home universe and deposited into a competition without any prior knowledge of the proceedings. This competition is to be a fight to the death between eight of the multiverse's best, and you are one of them. But your fate does not rest on your ability to run around slaughtering people - no, for this is a writing battle! Every round, there shall be one death, and this death is to be determined by who is judged to have performed the worst over the previous rounds. Then, with one player fewer to deal with, everyone will be whisked off to a new setting and put through the above again. Got that?

Now, to make things easier, you can use a RESERVE system to claim the right to post within two hours of reserving. This could provide you with some time to get things straight, to sort out how your character might react to a situation and to make sure that you're not going to cause any continuity errors, without having to rush, stressed other whether or not someone else is going to post first and spoil your masterplan. After that time, though, others can reserve or post, though hopefully you'll be up against other chivalrous enough to let you go before them...

PLAYERS

As part of the master scheme of ending up with eight of these running their course, then having the winners fight each other at the end, a third wave of battles started up recently. Having plucked out the 16 combatants, there were still some interested parties left over, so I've offered to host the sixth one here and now for those people. They were then added to, to produce the following cast:

Drakenforge - Wolf (#400000)
Baphomet - Vexmagog (#4000BF)
Schazer - Sen (#40BF00)
Weldar - Steven Taylor (#008000
NotTheAuthor - Jacob Helix (#000080)
Kaikostrike - Alexander Striensand (#800000) - Got bit by Wolf a lot in the middle of a burning ring of trees - R1
redskap - Blitz Wykerr (#FF0000)
Korbz - John Swift (#4040FF) - Had his spine broken by crystal shards thrust into the air by a volcanic eruption - R2

SUBMISSION FORM

If those names haven't put you off (hopefully you want to seize the opportunity to work with such talented names - I know I did!), then here's the form you'll need to fill in. Hey, reservees have to fill it in as well if they want their spot (except for Schazer, who's already PM'ed me hers - I'll put it in a spoiler in a post after this one)

Username: If you have trouble filling this in, we appreciate your enthusiasm, but please, seriously...
Name: No, not yours silly - the name of the character whom you have invented for this battle.
Gender: Kinda helpful. M, F, N/A or Other are your choices here, really. If you haven't fallen into one of those categories, I'd very much love to hear about it.
Race: Any and every possible species or type of creature that you can come up is fine by me. Human? Undead? Neptunian? Demon? Robot? Kitchen sink? Whatever you want, fine by me.
Colour: In order to make it easy to see who's posted what, you pick out a specific colour text (and/or, if you fancy it, a special coloured background) in which you'll write all your posts and, at a later stage, other players will write your character's speech or actions in as well. Currently, this,this,this and this are reserved by me for overlording stuff, and any of the colours listed above by combatant names are as well.
Weapon: Well, this is a battle, so one important thing to know is: what's your player's mode of attack? Describe it as best you can. Bear in mind that your character doesn't necessarily use a weapon - maybe their bodies are their weapon, or perhaps they use magic or something similar. Be creative!
Abilities: Whether or not your character has a weapon, chances are that's probably not the end of the story. What other powers or abilities do they have? Magic-wielders, here's the point where you can go beserk about it, whereas others might wish to have special skills or powers that might give them an edge. If you can write it in convincingly, then you can have it.
Description: So, what does your character look like? What's their mindset towards things? If you have a picture, or are able to draw one, that would be excellent, but it's no big deal - all we need to know is what your character is like, both appearance and personality-wise, so that they can be written for sucecssfully.
Biography: OK, chances are your character hasn't just materialised out of thin air. They've been around for a while, have lived a life and all that. Let's hear about it. Having some character depth is helpful for writing for them, so just come up with a little backstory for them.

AND NOW, THE INTRODUCTION - AN EXAMPLE, IF YOU LIKE, OF THE THINGS TO COME:

SpoilerShow

[The room was big. Or at least, one had to assume it was big. It was black, anyway. That much was easy to discern. There was some grey in places, namely the catwalk that penetrated the blackness in such an alien manner, and there were a few dark purples in the upholstery, but mostly it was black. And black is exceptionally good at creating the illusion of a void, an ebony emptiness stretching on for an eternity or three. In this case, it probably did - the entity occupying the very end of the catwalk, where the path widened to form a circle three times as wide as the walkway was, was not one for interior design. Actually, as you might have already been able to tell, they weren't one for having an interior or an exterior in the first place. They had yet to be able to figure out floors, walls, roofs, let alone put them together and subsequently decorate them.

"He" didn't have a name. "He" can never remember (if what "he" does is remember) being given one by parents or guardians or the like. That hasn't stopped "him" getting names attached to him, of course. Formality works off of names, although in the case of one or two of the names "he"'d been given, formality is perhaps pushing it. The politest, and the most frequently used when "he" was present, was The Exectutive, for he always made the executive decision, and most of the time it was for an execution...

The Executive was at that moment reclined, resting rather restlessly (if that is at all possible) on a couch that bore more than a passing resemblance to one that you could find in any good psychiatrist's office. He... OK, let's face it, he was a he. Or at the very least, he looked like a he just then. Right, now, he had his arms crossed on his chest, which was somewhat upsetting the man (this one was a man, not an intangible entity) who was playing amateur psychiatrist. He'd fabricated himself a quaint and comfy armchair to sit in, had crossed his legs and steepled his fingers, although he'd stopped short at dragging in a skeleton and a potted plant, just after stopping himself from getting a pipe to smoke. He had a monocle though, but that was norm.

Talis had been wearing a monocle for some time, possibly out of the misheld belief that it made him look more evil in conjunction with the obligatory goatee, more likely (and indeed truthfully) because he was getting on a bit and his left eye wasn't as good as it used to be. His official role indeed called for him to be evil, for in any universe, there

must be antagony for there to be liveliness and functionality - so much comes from the struggle of good and evil that to remove the evil from the equation would result in... well, Talis wasn't sure. He'd never been away long enough for anyone to try to destabilise proceedings like that. As far as he could discern, the biggest problem would be afternoon tea suddenly becoming a rather awkward occasion, although he expected that there would probably be much deeper and profounder impacts on the universe than just that...

Still, now wasn't the time for such trifles. The Executive was preparing himself, getting ready to open up his mind to Talis, to let his troubles gush out, in the hope that Talis could make everything better for him.

"This... "Director"," - this word was accompanied by a fair bit of phlegm - "starts a game. A nice little game, very entertaining. It's been much more interesting to see multiversal conflict rather than having to put up with merely focusing in on a particular one - it gives the proceedings zest and spice; that bit of variety. Perfect at making the evenings disappear, Talis. And then, what's this, up pops a second battle? Well, I certainly took that opportunity-"

No, you didn't, thought Talis. You merely instructed me to get someone to put one of their creations on the line for your pleasure. You didn't even raise a hand, much less use it to seize the moment.

"-and Maxwell, he's most enjoyable. Sruix knows how to make a character, though I dunno how good he his at keeping that character alive, per se-"

That's because you weren't bothered enough to conjure up a fighting machine yourself, Executive. Sruix is a pacifist to the core, or would be if he had a core. He has a cortex, though. Close enough.

"But yes, then I had a commitment to that battle, yes, and I still do - I have to, right? Despite that, there's still the first fight - once you've started something, you gotta see how it ends. Curiousity. You'd never forgive yourself if you didn't. So I was a tad stretched. But that wasn't too bad..."

Yes, yes, because you had us to do most of the petty administrative work for you. Thanks for that.

"And then up pops a third, and then up pops a fourth, and then up pops a fifth! Five conflicts, with conflicting schedules! Unbearable! Atrocious! Inconcievable! And that is not the end! Good grief, no, of course not, for you say Sruix attends this multiversal meeting of masters to find that Mr. Director plans for eight. Eight! How is one supposed to keep up with eight?! Etiquette demands it, but it is impossible, Talis. What can I do? What can I do?"

By this point, The Executive was doing a very good job of getting on Talis's nerves. But then that was fairly normal as well. Working with someone with attitude was commonplace for him, though usually the attitude he came across was "if it moves, kill it" rather than "if it moves, pay it to kill everything else that moves". Still, he was about to drop the bait and initiate stage one...

"I have an idea, sir. What if you were to host your own battle? I know, I know, it sounds like a bit of work, but think about it. It is a bit of work, and henceforth it would be a permissable excuse for not keeping up with the affairs of the other battles. I know for a fact that the Observer has a fun time balancing his affairs, hosting and participating as he does. Sruix knows of a few other creators who were disappointed that they were unable to get into the last wave, and I suspect that, if we can round them up and get the last few punters together, we could be started almost immediately."

The pseudo-logic was laughable, but it served its purpose well. The Executive was obviously more than interested by the proposition, and having risen from his couch, was about to voice so:

"That, Talis, is probably the best idea you've had in all the time I've had the displeasure of knowing you. Get Sruix on it immediately. It'll be a much better use of his time than those silly music things he does... I mean, this latest one of his, "Music Of The Spheres" or something - ridiculous, let me tell you..."

"Um, that was about two months ago, Sir. He's up to Music Of The Dodecahedrons now."

"Good grief, really? Thank goodness you came up with this then - we gotta get him doing something more productive before he runs out of shapes and has to pester me to invent a new one for him..."

"Very well. I shall see to it immediately."

"Exactly. Now, run along now. I'm going to check up on... oh, I think the Battle Royale..."

Talis rose, gave the required salute, and headed back down the catwalk. At what he judged to be a relatively safe distance, he paused briefly and heaved a slight sigh of relief.

Perfectly done...

tl;dr - An entity called The Executive has assigned two of his minions, Talis and Sruix, to host a Grand Battle for him, at Talis's suggestion. But it seems that Talis might have some other motive for suggesting it, bar his master's entertainment...

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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Schazer's character profile (she might possibly update it later, but whilst her holiday has her schedule all mucked up, she's sent this to me so that she can at least take part when she gets back):

SpoilerShow

Name: Sen

Gender: Technically genderless, but personality tends to male

Font Colour: Bottom-left green in the second pallete of colours on the right.

Race: Tender (hosting seven World Trees)
Tenders are generally mild-mannered, if unintelligent beasts which live to protect and maintain the World Tree, a monstrous mutated plant which has conquered their planet. They are native to the planet Babylon, where they are the only observed fauna. They have a symbiotic relationship with the sprawling, endless jungle which covers the entire globe, maintaining it in exchange for the life-giving nectar which they are exclusively reliant on for sustenance (though this nectar has far too much radiation for safe consumption.) Their 'language' consists of chirps, chatters, growls, and clicks; however their intelligence (and vocabulary) would probably be on par with that of a dolphin.

Tenders resemble a cross between an alien forest spirit and a giant axolotl, standing at about 2.5 metres tall with translucent, pale green skin. Their faces are especially axolotl-esque; with snub faces; rows upon rows of needle-like teeth in their mouths; large, bright, black, blank eyes; and three possibly vestigial gill-like appendages on either side of their face. They have deer-like necks and bodies, which terminate in a tear-drop like point, giving them a ghosty apperance. Their second-most unusual feature would be their abnormally long forelimbs, which are easily a metre and a half from shoulder to wrist, and able to bear the Tender's weight despite their slenderness.
Their hands, however, trump this. Each has four super-slim fingers, nearly a full metre long each, with multiple joints and sharp, pointed ends. Compounded with a highly dextrous thumb with a soft end, these hands are capable of both near-surgical precision and great strength.
Despite their large size, they are lightweight; only about 40 kilos. They can bear their weight on one hand's fingertips without much trouble.
(will probably cut this short once I draw a picture)

Sen carries the seed pods of seven World Trees on his person; one on each shoulder, one in each forearm, and one embedded in his heart and stomach region, and one encased in a thin membranous layer at the tip of his tail. These pods remain inert until he expels them onto soil, where they swiftly grow if tended to by Sen.

Weapon: Sen's fingers are capable of piercing through armour, and his teeth would inflict a nasty bite. However, he doesn't fight unless defending a World Tree. The pods are almost indestructible and provide good spot armour while they remain on Sen.

Abilities: Being a Tender, he has a natural affinity with plants. Unfortunately, most of them are in direct competition with his symbiotic World Tree, so he instinctively decimates them. Despite this, they can be surprisingly co-operative with him.

Description: Sen is an Envoy Tender, designed to carry World Tree seeds to other planets for colonisation. In the interests of survival and propogation , Sen has been gifted with above-average intelligence for his race - though this isn't saying much. It's enough for him to use a bit of problem-solving in unexpected situations that might arise while looking after the World Tree, but it ain't much.
The World Trees, on the other hand, are sentient in a botanical kind of way, and are fixated on their personal survival. Sen is pretty much a tool to them, but doesn't mind. Chemical secretions can trigger high states of emotion in Sen, if that's what's needed to ensure successful propogation.
Of course, they don't realise that the soil they fall on in a Grand Battle is merely a pocket dimension... But Sen plants 'em anyway because he needs the nectar to survive :P

Bio: The World Tree is a failed bio-terrorism weapon on a global scale; an agglomeration of multiple species mutated into cohesion with a healthy dose of radiation. After being discarded on what is now known as Babylon, the plant spread quickly, its nigh-indestructable root system quickly encompassing and strangling the planet while also working into its core. From there, the World Tree utilised geothermal energy to shroud the whole planet in steamy jungle. For reasons unknown, the plant replaced the now-eliminated local fauna with its own beasts, the Tenders.
With the advent of light-speed travel in Sen's universe, intelligent life soon discovered the planet, and the strange two species which occupied it. Unable to permanently scare the colonisers off, the World Tree instead decided to beat them at their own game - and send its own agents to other planets which the plant could conquer.
Enter Sen, the result of a century's dedicated selective breeding to create a Tender with the best intelligence - well - a century's dedicated selective breeding could produce. Being the offspring of a plant, Sen was never going to win any Nobel Prizes, but being the World Tree's best hopes for intergalactic domination it loaded him up with hopefully enough seed pods and sent him into the nearest researcher's trap to be carted off to another, hopefully conquerable, planet.

Originally posted on MSPA by CheeseDeluxe.

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EEEEEEEEEEH.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Man, I sorta want to do this one too, but I'm already in two... Oh well, I'll see if I can think of a character I really like first... If I can't, then I won't tentatively join.

... Actually, 3 is probably too much. I won't do it, unless people just don't join this.

Oh well, I thought up my character already, I don't want it to waste away in my head.

SpoilerShow

Username: MyifanW
Name: Laan Zou
Gender: M
Race: Human
Colour: top right!
Weapon: None... technically. he has a gourd of water at his waist.
Abilities: Hydrokinesis, the manipulation of water. Staff fighting training. Pretty good survival abilities.
Description: He wears Monk clothing, may or may not be bald, but wears a bandana/hoodie type hat so the hair is no big deal. No facial hair, and a sharp face. At almost all times, he has a contemptuous grin or an incredibly strong frown.
As a person, he's fairly calm, although that doesn't mean much, as he's never fought for his life before. He talks too sarcastically all the time, almost as if it were his default tone of voice. He is obsessed with his own sense and logic.
His most prominent view is his incredible distaste for rules and standards. He can't help but try to disrupt the flow of things, and as such, he has an obsession with finding flaws and taking ideas apart, often to the point of being malicious.

Biography: He Lived his entire life in a monastery. The place taught a specific idea, to accept one's place in the universe, essentially to go with the flow. It seems that he would logically be a very calm and peaceful person, yet, somehow, he isn't. He felt the need to analyze every part of what he was being taught, and point out what didn't make sense, what was pointless. For this, he would be berated as a fool. Still, he would argue at every opportunity. There was no sense to anything he was being told, Laan always thought, and could never accept anything but the truths that he found himself. He wouldn't even leave, because his incredible desire to someday take all of the things he'd been taught and finally turn it completely on it's head such that nobody would be able to keep their faith fully. Finally, he was sent to an island, on the other side of a coursing river, alone, with the instructions to come back once he "cleared" his mind and allowed the flow of the river to carry him back. Laan figured it was all bullshit- he wouldn't be able to cross this kind of river, no matter how "clear" he was. There wasn't even any food being sent to him. In short, he was being murdered- he'd either starve or drown.
He spent a month trying to build a boat, from broken branches and else. He had nothing sharp to cut with, so it was a nearly impossible task. It scattered into pieces as soon as he put it in the water. He began to lose hope, but continued to survive. During this time, he spent time hunting, foraging, creating fire... essentials for survival... He was getting used to it, but he hated it.
He soon stopped trying to survive all together, and spent all his time staring at the river. This river was the flow that they had been trying to force upon him... as he wasted away, his desired to crush the flow became stronger and stronger... and then the flow was disrupted. It was small at first, the disruption, but soon enough, Laan could stop a small part of the water. Soon enough, he could direct part of the stream. He began eating again, and began to enjoy his time. He was right all along, he knew he would be. The flow of the world wasn't something that had hold on him- it was the other way around. He finally managed to cross the river... and began to think. He was right...And he'd prove it. another month passed. He spent it directing the flow of the river to the side, slowly but surely creating a new path for the water to travel- straight through the monastery.

At this point, he joined the competition.

Originally posted on MSPA by snoomanwaff.

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Considering the speed intense struggle is going at I think I can handle 2 at this point, I shall express an intrest but will stand aside for new blood.

Originally posted on MSPA by Korbz.

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Previous Post:

SpoilerShow

I wouldn't mind being in one again, now that I've learned more about the game.
Just realized I'll be going up against a character that was in one of my own collabs, Sen.

New post:

SpoilerShow

Username: Korbz(I prefer Korby)
Name: John Swift
Gender: Male
Race: Humanoid
Humanoids are a magical species, who, as their name implies, are much like humans. They do, however, lack organic fingers and toes. Using their magic, they can levitate the things they would normally pick up. They are forever at war with robots called the Mechalo.
Colour: This seems fine (#4040FF, second block, second row, last column)
Weapon:
Obscurite, the staff on his back attached by a strap, enhances all magic that is put into it. It's like a guitar amp for magic. He also has two water pistols filled with metal-eating acid.
Abilities: Weak Telekinesis(Cannot pick up things larger than a car.) and powerful Ice magic.
Description:
John will often jump into a battle without thinking about anything, and is usually hurt from doing so. Overly cocky about his abilities, he loves to show off, and is very rude to other people.
Biography: John is a soldier in the Endless War. He has absolutely no friends, and his parents were murdered while trying to stop soldiers from recruiting him. He refers to himself as a "Lone Wolf", but often gets in to deep and calls in for backup.

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

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Repostan tiem! Added a small bit at the end to clarify.

Username: Baphomet
Name: Vexmagog
Gender: male
Font color: How about a bluish purple? Second from the right in the sixth row, #4000BF.
Race: One fallen god and one half-dead god
Weapon: His right hand. It is covered in the vitals of a god of chaos. Its appearance is as if he dipped his hand in purplish-blue lava, which then began to cool and harden into black stone, though with some cracks still keeping the shifting colors visible underneath. The more influence the dead god exerts on his consciousness, the more of his arm it covers. It usually goes from the tips of his four thin, multi-segmented fingers to about halfway up his forearm, but there are gruesome scars from previous expansion that extend all the way up to his right shoulder.
Abilities: Vex, the main being, can alter the sensory input of other beings around him, but cannot cause physical pain with this power. He is particularly skilled at causing states similar to drunkenness and lust, simply due to what he tended to use the powers for most frequently before he was bound to Magog. Among other things, he can also change the way beings perceive him physically, and change the ways others perceive each other, along with causing enough of a sense of befuddlement that makes the target of the ability less likely to recognize that they are being duped.
Magog, the pseudo-being in the arm, exudes a constant malicious reality-twisting aura. Grass near it may wither and die, or may turn gray and harden into a slimy mass of tiny spines. The air nearby tastes acrid, assuming Vex is not altering your senses to make you think it does not (which he usually is, instinctually at this point). Root systems near it may begin to writhe and lash out at passers-by. Electronics tend to start reacting strangely, such as PDAs printing the word "blood" over and over on screen in the user's native language. When the arm covering is at half-forearm length as usual, it may take around ten minutes of constant proximity within about 20 yards for the effects to become noticeable. As it gains power, the time decreases and the size of the field increases. It does not affect things with a living will except at higher levels of power, and even then only if said will cannot hold its own against the uneasy, painful emotion associated with it. However, on physical contact with a willed individual, that individual finds their confidence and their energy draining, possibly made worse by the burning sensation that contact brings.
Description: Vex, the main being, is a satyr-like creature. Humanoid, slightly taller and leaner than the average human. He has four fingered hands and feet, which are structurally similar and both about equal in gripping ability--that is, very good. His head is less human than the rest of him, though. It is more elongated, with much lower, larger eyes, which are entirely light blue. He has two curved horns at the back of his skull, and longer, pointed ears. His head, upper torso, and legs are covered by an orange-brown fur. He wears a dark green cloak and brown pants.
It is lucky that a physical description of Magog is unnecessary, as all that remains of its once-fearsome visage is a covering over Vex's right arm. The most of it that has been seen so far is a shifting mass of indigo energy barely contained in a cracked shell of black stone.


Biography: Vexmagog is, in essence, what happens when two gods embodying different aspects of the same concept are forced to share a role.

Vex was, at one time, a god of chaos. He played his part as a merry trickster, confounding and amusing the other gods with his antics. His universe was, apart from the familial struggles that are bound to occur when a bunch of nigh-omnipotent beings get together and decide to wrench some purpose out of this bothersome all-encompassing void, fairly stable. It had sentient mortals who worshiped them all as sentient mortals tend to do. It had a grand purpose, heroes, villains, drama, comedy, and all of it quickly snuffed out and replaced in the span of the puny lifetimes of its capricious inhabitants. Vex enjoyed himself, though he would, from time to time, make his other godly brethren the targets of his pranks instead of the mortals. They would be furious and try to punish him. Sometimes he was caught, sometimes he got out of it in his own sly way. The enjoyment gained was worth it either way.

Unfortunately, one of the times when he was caught (in a compromising position with one god's wife while imitating his sister, no less), something of a calamity occurred. A thread in the tapestry of their universe came unraveled. Panicked refugees from another universe poured out and shared their tale. The gods listened to it as best they were able to interpret the refugees' foreign tongue. Their universe, as well, had a god of chaos. This god was not like Vex. This god was a terrible abomination from the other side of the ledge of sanity, and he had recently escaped his restraints and became a horrifying scourge across the stars, driving mad those it was not merciful enough to consume outright. In desperation, they had opened up many portals to many different universes, seeking refuge and possibly a champion who could best this beast.

The god who had captured Vex thought it would be sporting to toss him into the rift and see how two gods of chaos got along with one another.

Unknown to him, this happened to be exactly the simplest way to rid the alternate universe of its problem. When Vex left the border of his universe into the void between the two worlds, he felt himself being pulled into the hole to the universe he was meant to be saving. He desperately clung to the frayed walls of reality, but was slowly dragged in. As his leg, first, slipped through the hole, Magog knew something was wrong. Two gods of the same domain were trying to share the seat of their power, and the universe wasn't having it--in fact, it was trying to overwrite the first with the second. Magog rushed to the scene in an attempt to drive Vex back from whence he came, just as Vex slipped further and made one last desperate grab for the edge of the portal with his right hand.

Magog realized his only hope was to rush into the space between worlds and come back, but Vex slipped the rest of the way while he was still halfway through. Magog's entire physical form and the lower part of Vex's arm were shredded and painfully combined.

Vex was stripped of the powers that made him a god that did not relate to his domain as defined by the new universe, including his immortality. He still does not age or succumb to disease, but he is not remade in the Hall of the Gods if his physical form is damaged beyond repair, as he did in the past. His body heals at a rate much increased over that of, say, an average human, but it does so in a similar way. Broken bones still need to be set, deep cuts will leave scars, especially grievous wounds will induce shock, and damage to vital organs is still fatal. The resulting being still has the will of Vex, but he now has that nagging voice in the back of his brain, telling him the world would look a little nicer with an extra coating of blood. He has lived with this burden for a little over two centuries.

Originally posted on MSPA by Korbz.

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You know what's funny? I'm probably going to lose in the first round, and I don't care.
This is going to be fun.

Originally posted on MSPA by Weldar.

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Woot this is starting. I've got half my character made up in a word document, I might be busy the next couple of days but I'll try to finish him as soon as possible and post here.

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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Woot this is starting. I've got half my character made up in a word document, I might be busy the next couple of days but I'll try to finish him as soon as possible and post here.

's fine. I'm going to be a tad busy for the next few days as well, so there's plenty of time for people to post. Who knows, we might actually get some people!

Baphomet claims his reserve, Korbz goes on the list.

Originally posted on MSPA by Kaitostrike.

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Username: Kaitostrike
Name: Alexander Striensand
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Colour:Dark Red #800000
Weapon: A broadsword
Abilities: Power over fire.
Description:
Biography: Alexander comes from an alternate dimension, from a very different Earth. In this dimension, Elementalists
are chosen to protect the worlds(and for the God's amusement). There are up to four Elementalist at once, one for
each element; fire, earth, wind, and water. As one Elementalist dies, another one rises.This time around, the power of
fire was going to go to a sage... But a mixup occurred, and it ended up going to a little child. Ever since then,
Alexander has had power over fire, and it has had a rather negative effect on his already bad attitude. He has
grown up a little prick, and stays one to this day.In related news,the Gods are laughing their asses off.
He tends to use a broadsword and only uses his fire powers when he feels like it. He is currently 15 years old,
and is an overconfident jerk.

Originally posted on MSPA by Korbz.

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Sweet, fire and ice mages in the same game.

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

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Username: Drakenforge
Name: Wolf (His actual name wouldn't be translatable so just call him wolf)

Gender: male

Font color:Leftmost brown, also #400000.

Description. A full grown, mild mannered, and mysterious wolf. He's got a sort of knowledgable look in his eyes, sort of telling you he can understand what you're saying, even though he knows he shouldn't.

Abilities: Well, most normal wolf things. Hightened smell, night vision, and some newer gifts he was bestowed: He can dissorient with a high pitched howl and his claws are shaper then normal, so he could cut through something like chainmail if he wanted.

Weapons: Fangs, claws.

Bio: Wolf lived a happy life in his forrest. He was part of a small pack, and it was his job to look after the cubs. He would sit and play with them, teaching them how to forage, how to play fight, and how to hunt. He wasn't the strongest, so he did not lead. He was happy to sit in the den and protect the cubs, as it was his role in the pack.
But one day, he went out on his own for a changeto exlpore. As he padded through the underbush of the forrest, a strangenew smell wafted over him. It was a powerful smell that seemed to tickle his senses and raise the hairs on his back. His tail wagged in glee as he allowed the armoa to seduce him, and followed it to the source.
He found a small clearing lit by the bright-beast-that-bites-hot*, with strange smelling two-legged-pelt-stealers*
Wolf watched as they danced around the blazing heat, throwing more and more of the bark of the great trees into it. It was a strange sight to behold. The pelt stealers had forced the bright beast into some sort of trap, where it was stuck and could not move. It could no longer pray on animals or the forrest, and yet the pelt stealers fed it themselves, not for warmth, but for some strange alien reason.
Then the pelt sltealers brought more of their kin from the forrest, but these ones were scared and loud, rustling about as if they wanted to flee their pack mates. To Wolfs horror, the leader of the pekt stealers would cut open his own kin! He used the claw-of-stone he knew other pelt stealers used to hunt and work pelt with, but to hunt ones own kind? I tmade wolf sick that such a thing could happen, even to the strange pelt wearers.
But fate took a bad turn. the ground under wolfs feet was wet and loose, and eventually gave way causing him to fall and roll down into the clearing.
Wolf can't remember what happened after. They muzzled him an forced a strange burning liquid down his through, and his world turned black and his senses went mad.

Wehn he awoke, his chest ached at his ribs, and his tongue was dry. He limped to wheer the river was to drink. When he gazed at the not-wolf* that stared back at him, he noticed his eyes were different than he remembered. After lapping up his fill, he returned to his pack.
His yipped a greeting as he approached, but instead of wolf talk, the peltless speech came froum his mouth. He knew what he said too, and this scared him. The other wolfs came to investigate, and surrounded wolf as if he was an intruder.
The pack leader sniffed him, more and more as he walked around. Wolf could only bow his head in shame, as the pack leader announced.
'Not-wolf'
Wolf was chased away, and for many days he had to hunt alone, afriad and with no home. Until a glorius light enveloped him, and he was spirited away.

SpoilerShow

I totally have to point this out due to relevance, so baph, https://image.com.com/gamespot/images/20 ... een002.jpg

This game was about a boy called Vex. He had demonic gauntlets.
Fuse him with this: https://images.google.co.uk/imgres?imgur ... n%26sa%3DG
Look familiar? I know your is original, but i had to note the resemblance.

EDIT2: Way better character now. And yes this is something I know i can pull off.

*Bright-beast-that-bites-hot: Wolf talk for fire
*Two-legged-pelt-stealers: Humans
*Not-wolf: Reflection in the water.

Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.

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Kaiko and Draken are both definites, being new and reservees respectively. You've both been added to the list.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Draken, Why is your character Guts from Berserk, exactly?

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

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Close Myifan, but I assure you this is based on history, not manga.
He is based on a 16th century german knight called Gotz von Berlichingen, who was part of a mercanery army known as the Landsknechts, who used tactics that were present during the Renaissonce.
Guts was the sword, rage, and setting. Gotz is the character, historical accuracy, and something I can develop without just saying "grr, i'm big" all the time. However, if you think i'm ripping it off, I will gladly change it all.

And yes, i'm serious about the Gotz part. Has his own wiki article and his false arm is preserved somewhere in germany.

And Srui, i'm not new. i'm in Battle Royale.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Yes, I know Gotz I read the wiki article on berserk. However, the Demon part, and the Griffith part, it's exactly the same.

I don't know if you can use a premade character, but if it's fine I don't mind. I just pointed it out because you said

Sorry folks, but this guy just screamed at me to be created. He's got his own little universe in my head now. So originality is still mine.

Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.

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Yes yes, point taken. Less gutsu for Gotz. done the rewriting. while you were posting. If Gotz is still too much of a relevance to something done befroe, even if it's real person and not some original thing, then i'll use the original thing I had up my sleeve.
I did warn Srui I had a hard time choosing, this is why.

Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.

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This is probably a bad idea. Oh well!

Username: Not The Author

Name: Jacob Helix

Gender: Male

Race: Pureblood Human.

Font color: Why is blue so popular? #000080 - Top Middle

Supplies: One (1) authentic handmade broadsword from the late medieval period, enchanted for reduced weight, enhanced durability, and use as a magical capacitor. Has a slight indigo tint while storing energy, which becomes more prominent as more energy is stored. Though capable with just about any sword or sword-like weapon, Jacob tends to prefer broadswords for their parrying capacity. Often uses his sword as a walking stick.

One (1) brass pocketwatch with multiple concentric faces, practically unreadable to anyone without practice, which displays "local" and "origin" time, as well as time since departure, time until the theoretical end of the universe, and a few others. Contains a small removable cylindrical radio transmitter powered by a micronuclear battery, used as a locating beacon. (Though the beacon probably won't be useful in the typical manner, what with being in a pocket dimension and all...) Also contains a music player, perpetually broadcasting classical music at barely audible levels.

One (1) authentic handmade double-segmented plate chestpiece from the late medeival period, enchanted for reduced weight and enhanced durability. Worn over his suit.

One (1) authentic handmade clawed righthand gauntlet, enchanted for reduced weight and enhanced durability. More because it's stylish than anything else, really.

Abilities: His aforementioned skill with a sword, coupled with his naturally quick reflexes (just a hint of paranoia there, maybe) and some low-tier Quantum magic (short-range teleportation, small-area temporal and spatial distortion fields, personal temporal perception alteration, etc). Using magic drains energy from the environment, his sword, another artifact built for that purpose, or, if none of the others are available, his own metabolism.

Description:

SpoilerShow

Jacob tends to come off as that smug prick of a rich guy who no one really likes because he thinks he's better than everyone else. This is probably because... well, because he is that guy - and he knows it, even using a subliminal aura of piano and strings to cement the highness of his class. He tries to be nice (or at least polite), though, especially when working around potential clients or allies.

Biography: Like many a man, Jacob Helix was not born into greatness. Growing up in a working class family, he always wondered why other people were better off than him. So he took from those better off people. Initially, he merely picked a few pockets for loose change, but as he grew older he began to get more... creative. He'd take jobs moving furniture, or looking after pets and houseplants while their owners were on vacation. He'd get paid for the job and, well... if something small went missing here or there, who would know?

Eventually, some time during his college years (paid for almost entirely in loose change), he caught wind that unscrupulous people paid considerable sums of money to other people to do unscrupulous things for them. Including stealing things. Sounding both more interesting and profitable than college, Jacob immediately applied to Monolith, a high-profile "Troubleshooting Agency". Here, between thefts, he was taught fencing and practical swordsmanship, opting out of firearm training due to the "impersonality of shooting someone to death."

Despite his apparent range disadvantage, Jacob typically didn't go on missions that were physically dangerous (unless he really screwed up during them). As he advanced through the ranks, though, he started taking on a few assasinations and the like, and found that he wasn't too bad at it, either. He relished the challenge of not being caught and, as he continued to progress, not being killed.

After several years of murder and theft, he attained Gigas Tier, the highest generic rank available, and was granted use of Monolith's Vortex, one of only five in existence at that time. The Vortex is a dimensional gate, capable of bridging the gap between one place at two different times. Jacob, as with all Gigas Tier initiates, was granted special leave to hone his skills in a different time period. Though many others might have chosen the future for its wealth of technological advances, he chose the late medeival period, so that he might learn swordsmanship from those who practiced it on a daily basis. For this, he was given a locator beacon, since a Vortex had not yet been constructed back then.

Jacob's abnormal choice of time period granted him a unique opportunity few knew or believed existed - the chance to learn magic. Before energy was restricted by "laws" of physics, it flowed freely for all to use. By the middle ages, however, only a select few (Mages) still knew how to harness this power. Jacob, realizing this would give him a great advantage over... just about everyone, took an additional six years leave learning the ways of Quantumancy, largely considered the most potentially powerful but most difficult magical school to learn.

Jacob was in his mid-thirties by the time he returned to the present. His work continued, and using the vast fortune he acquired (timetravel is a very expensive business, don'cha know), he maintained his youth, or at least the appearance of it, through various means both legal and otherwise. Through years of successful "troubleshooting," he gained the title of Anachronaut Templar for his outdated knightly battlestyle, and currently is a member of an elite four-man troubleshooting unit bearing his name - Helix.

Originally posted on MSPA by Korbz.

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Question: What's the deadline for new characters?

Originally posted on MSPA by yousodumb.

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If not too late:

Username:Yousodumb (you can call me Youso or YSD if you prefer)
Name: Herald
Gender:N/A
Race: "Unhuman" (read bio)
Color: [background=purple:dzpy7lyf]This[/background:dzpy7lyf]
Weapon: The sword of the Madgod, A blade forged of pure madness.
Abilities: He, or rather It is able to see into people's minds and see their hopes and dreams...Then it can twist these dreams into horrible nightmares, causing even the most hardy of individuals to go insane. He is granted this power by absorbing the natural energies put off by the thoughts of mortals, he feeds off of this energy as his main source of sustenance. When he has absorbed enough of this energy, he can transform into his "True" form.
Description:

SpoilerShow

Alt pic:

SpoilerShow

Appears to be a normal human...besides the fact that he has Winged eyeballs, He tends to be quiet, not talking much, When he does speak he tends to have a "biblical" pattern. He tends to think of mortals as nothing but a source of food, and that his path is the only correct one. He fears nothing, except for his "father".
Biography: He is the First "son" of Zeta Chris, he is a construct of the dark side of Insanity. Created to torment mortals, all he ever saught was to take the kingdom of madness from his father. As one of his missions to the mortal world, he was required to bring a mortal to the Land of insanity and see what would happen. This mortal was confused by the ever-changing landscape, and begged to be returned to his home. Herald laughed at the mortal's daring and threatened to trap him in this dimension, the mortal fell to his knees and begged forgiveness from him. He enjoyed this mortals worship, so he told him to write a book about this dimension of insanity, labeling him as it's master. After finding this book, Zeta demanded that his "son" tell the writer the truth or face the consequences, He refused, Telling him that his era of being king was over. Zeta cast him from his home dimension, stripping him of his former powers, left to wander the mortal plains as one of them and plot his vengeance.

Originally posted on MSPA by Lighing.

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reserved
EDIT: Un-reserved

Originally posted on MSPA by redskap.

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Username: redskap
Name: Blitz Wykerr (a.k.a. Father)
Gender: Male
Race: Superhuman
Colour: Bright red
Weapon: Bare hands, bandages (explained below), electricity
Abilities: Can fire bursts of lightning out of his left hand, is able to control the bandages wrapping his left arm (he usually uses this ability to bind people so he can get close enough to shock them; cloth isn't very conductive). Also can augment his movements/speed using electrical impulses. As a result of this, he's a very twitchy fellow, especially in his left arm.
Description:

SpoilerShow

Not drawn by me, but it is a piece of art made specifically for this character:

Biography: Before I can tell you about Blitz, I must tell you about his parents. His father's name was Wykerr, and that's about all anyone seems to know about him. Mr. Wykerr desired companionship at one time, and so set out to find a suitable mate. Now, Mr. Wykerr was three things; very intelligent, very cruel, and very insane. A serial killer, in fact. Eventually he found a woman who met his high standards, and he proceeded to court her. Mr Wykerr by no means lacked the charm and guile necessary for this. He even stopped his random murdering so that there would be nothing for her to be suspicious of. Over the course of time, Mr. Wykerr became less and less inclined to senselessly slaughter like he used to. He wasn't sure why this was, but he was happy, and it seemed to be fine with him. Marriage followed, and eventually his wife became heavy with child. Things seemed to be going fantastically for the newly wed Mr. Wykerr.

One day, his wife felt something in her let go, and it was time for the birth of the child. Never before had anything made Mr. Wykerr so nervous and happy and excited! They rushed themselves to the nearest hospital. Mr. Wykerr drove as carefully as possible, because it was a very dark and stormy night, and he didn't want to get into an accident. After many painful hours of labor, and many painful hours of waiting on Mr. Wykerr's part, the doctors finally had word.

His wife was dead, and the child a stillborn.

Mr. Wykerr reverted back to his old ways as soon as the news reached his ears.

He killed the doctor that had brought him the terrible message, he proceeded to go into the room where his love lay still and slaughtered everyone there. He saw his dead son, his body cold and lifeless, the reason for all this pain. He stole him away, determined to inflict on his corpse all the pain Mr. Wykerr was feeling right now. Not there, of course, because the authorities were on their way and Mr. Wykker would be arrested, and that wouldn't do at all! Ten steps out of the hospital he was struck by a bolt of lightning. He died, but his son did not. Hospital employees found a child, scarred by the electricity that had coursed through him, screaming and wailing in the arms of his dead father.

Blitz lived normally, despite his heavy scarring, for most of his life. He went through foster care with very loving parents, named himself after studying the German language, flew through school easily, as he had inherited his father's massive intellect. On his twenty-first birthday, however, he found that he had inherited more than just his father's intelligence. He went to sleep that night, and woke the next morning in an unfamiliar place, covered in blood that was not his own. A voice spoke to him. A voice that came from his own mind, but did not belong to him. Mr. Wykerr spoke to his son. “I'm here for you, son,” the voice said pleasantly. “And I will teach you to be the best you can be.”

To clarify: Blitz holds two souls; his own and his father's. His father possesses him when he sleeps and uses his body and his powers (which Blitz didn't even know he had before his father came back from the recesses of his mind) to cause mischief and mayhem of the very violent sort. Blitz is an insomniac for this reason, and when he's not sleeping he's constantly hearing his father talk to him, telling him to kill and murder senselessly. For the matters of this battle, Blitz will be “asleep” for the duration.

I dunno if any of this makes sense or seems too corny/cliche. I hope it's okay.

And I just read everyone else's profiles and I swear I wasn't trying to copy you Baphomet, I have had this guy in my head for a long time and this has been my first chance to use him. [img]images/smilies/pc_bemused.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.

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Yeeeeeeeah I'd get completely obliterated if I enter in this one.