Spoiler
Name: Barkeep
Gender: Male
Race: Game construct
Weapons / Abilities: He naturally knows all the rumors of the land, although no one is really sure where he got this information. People originally thought that it was due to the number of unusual people passing through his bar, but nobody has been able to find the people that may have told him all he knows. He is also a skilled one-man bartender, able to attend up to 15 people at the same time with both food and drinks, with very little delay. It's unclear where he actually gets the food and drinks, but no one seems to mind. He never seems to get tired or even take breaks. In fact, he has never even been caught sleeping. He also has a gun, for dire emergencies only.
Description: He is pretty much your ordinary bartender from any given fantasy Tabletop RPG. He has short salt-and-pepper hair and beard. He has a mysterious scar on his face, running just below his eye, but when asked about it, he insists it's no big deal. His clothes are a fairly generic brown, but they're clean at least. He likes to polish glasses in his spare time, though that's mostly due to giving his hands something to do. He is very amicable, only getting upset when someone threatens him with property damage, and even then, it's only an unnerving frown and polite insistence that they leave. Similarly, he is never unfazed by bizarre events happening in front of him. As a barkeep, all he wants is a serene life attending to people and hearing their stories. Should any severe conflicts appear, he will roll up his sleeves and attend to the problem in the most gentlemanly way possible.
Errata: Note: as a game construct, he functions differently from ordinary people, but he is physically utterly indistinguishable from other people, unless they pay very close attention to his habits. He will take on a human form by default, but if he ends up in a society with no humans, his form will be changed in order to fit in easier. He can't get injured, rather, his vitality is closely linked with the vitality of the place he happens to be in. In other words, only property damage can actually hurt him, and even then it will always be accompanied by a feeling of wrongness, like the rules were broken.

Spoiler
Name: Cliff and Snake
Gender: Male (Cliff) and female (Snake)
Race: Human (Cliff) and lesser ouroboros (Snake)
Weapons / Abilities: Cliff’s sword, like almost everything he’s ever touched, has a rather unfortunate name: in this case, Something Something of Death. In conversation he refers to it as Sosod. The sword was bound to him before he was even old enough to hold it, and the ritual that magically connected them had to be rushed slightly, so any hope of a good name was thrown out the window in order to keep everything else working well. The blade is black, with a light blue hilt to match Cliff’s armor, and is normally meant to be wielded with one hand—it can get larger, however, if Cliff places both hands on the hilt and concentrates. Within the blade is a very small, self-replenishing cartridge of magic: in this world, a sand-like substance. Despite the fact that it can ‘reload’ a supposedly infinite number of times, this takes a while and therefore magical swordplay is mostly restricted to one spell per battle. Also, the amount of magic that it can hold at one time only allows for small spells to be cast, such as the size increase it may undergo. It is also worth noting that spells used may only affect the sword itself directly and temporarily, such as making it sharper, more durable, or hotter (it can reach a surprisingly high temperature)—and Cliff could not, for example, use the magic in the sword to project an energy shield or launch a fireball… even if the fireball were leaping from the tip of the blade. Cliff has a good level of experience wielding Sosod, and though it has been used to kill before, and though it has ‘death’ in its name, Cliff would only resort to killing if nothing else worked. Also, his armor is enchanted to be slightly more durable than it looks—nothing remarkable, though it will provide more effective protection against high falls and bludgeoning than stabbing weapons. As a final note, Snake is able to wrap around his waist as a belt. This does roughly nothing for him beyond aesthetics, but Snake herself is better protected in this position.
Cliff was born with an extra organ in his body that has a somewhat-self-replenishing-but-not-really supply of magic. If he casts a small spell, he’ll probably get the magic back, but if he does something much larger, it will permanently scar this organ, which will possibly spread and cause other organs to fail, eventually leading to his death. This wouldn’t be a problem in Amna or Neo-Ras, where he could simply have it removed, but out in the battle that probably won’t be a possibility. As with the sword, all of Cliff’s spells are temporary modifications to himself. Increasing the duration of a modification takes no more magic, but it does take more effort and concentration. In order to make something permanent, he would need an additional amount of magic at the outset, and whether or not concentration would be required to keep it present would depend on whether it is a physical or a magical modification. He’s not the strongest hero out there, but he’s fast and agile, and as mentioned he is fairly resourceful. As an Amnan, his metabolism is the product of an environment where food is scarce—from an evolutionary perspective, since Amnan civilization has advanced enough to make this mostly a non-issue. Anyway, this means that Cliff can go longer without food than most other humans. He’s used to living pretty well, though, so he’ll be pretty uncomfortable going several weeks without food, but he will survive.
Snake, as a Lesser Ouroboros, has a few abilities uncommon to her fellow serpents. Foremost, she can effectively freeze herself in time by biting her own tale. In this petrified state, she won’t age, and she is quite a bit more durable, though she can’t move without the aid of a strong wind. She isn’t a constrictor, and her venom isn’t lethal, but it does induce sleep or lethargy in most animals if she can penetrate their flesh with her fangs. She shares with the rest of her species an all-liquid diet, and as such her fangs are able to siphon up nearly any liquid—and most will suffice, as the main function of her venom is to combine with ingested liquids in order to create something safe for consumption. She prefers animal blood, but she could go for some time on a diet of plain water or other substances. And because she’s that smart, she’s managed to get around her limited ability to speak: because her link to Cliff is magical in nature, and that is always present, she can potentially gain the ability to speak and the sense of sight at any time through intense concentration. When her eyes glow, it is the only time she has a functional sense of sight, and everything is tinted yellow.
Together, they share a Bond of Familiarity—Cliff’s bond with Sosod makes him the only one who can use its magic, and makes it slightly harder for other people to wield it. The Bond of Familiarity is more powerful than that. This bond allows the two to communicate telepathically (to an extent, more through emotions than specific phrases) and inherently know each other’s relative locations. Normally, killing one Familiar would drive the other insane, but through intense training of mental stamina they believe that oe would still be able to function if the other was killed, though they might experience moderate-to-severe memory loss. This training was the result of an agreement that they would be able to avenge each other’s deaths, and may make them resistant to psionic attack—though in their world, that isn’t really a thing.
Description: Of only slightly-above-average height, Cliff is thin enough that he appears, from a distance at least, to be nearly a head higher. Like all Amnans, his skin is rather dark and he is completely bald. His clothing is of a cyan material which resembles leather in texture, and leaves essentially only his head and hands bare. Also, it’s thinner at prominent joints, and exposed near the ankles. His sword is in a scabbard on his back at all times, and his hands tend to twitch slightly while he isn’t holding it. His posture isn’t that great, and he tends to continuously survey his surroundings. When speaking to people, he is usually calm, though he’ll often seem distracted. In tone, his voice is fairly deep, though average for a young man of his height. Although communication isn’t often an issue in these things, I should mention that he was brought up speaking Amnan, which has long, rounded vowels and soft edges, and he has trouble covering his accent when speaking the sharply enunciated, tight, and conservative language of Rassic. He is still fluent in both tongues.
Snake is dark grey in color, and not particularly long or thick. As a snake, she has no eyelids, but unlike most of her brethren, she also lacks eyes… most of the time. In the presence of magic, bright yellow light emanates from her empty sockets, and she becomes able to speak. Her voice at this time is predictably raspy and whispery, but in a way that’s honestly more obnoxious than foreboding. She understands both Amnan and Rassic through a psychic link between her and Cliff, but more on that later. She is most often found either wrapped around Cliff’s waist or slithering next to him.
Cliff began as a brash young adventurer, and is still brash and adventurous now, but to a lesser extent. He is torn between a longing to see the world and a longing of equal passion to return home to Amna. He’s a bit hyperactive, and he twitches when not occupied by anything. Also, some ambushes and assassination attempts have made him paranoid, and he looks around constantly. Despite this, he has learned to stay focused on a task, and will see a task through to the end if he starts it. He is quite loyal to people who’ve earned his trust, but that’s gotten harder over the years—he can be quick to judge, especially sorcerers and non-humans. His entire view of the concept of heroism is based around self-sacrifice, so he’s been known to act drastically in dire situations and put his life on the line even when it might not have been necessary. Overall, however, he considers himself more of a wanderer than a hero, taking on adventures for money—though lately he’s been more than willing to take payment for just traveling somewhere and mapping the place, worn down by nine-and-a-half years of combat-heavy adventuring. He isn’t quite educated, but he is smart and resourceful, and can figure his way out of a tough situation.
Snake is a bit sore about her name, and doesn’t enjoy being addressed, but other than that is actually very approachable. Though she can only speak in the presence of magic, she is quick to comfort or defend any who appear in need if she believes they deserve it. Also, despite being Cliff’s familiar, Snake is surprisingly independent, and if anything she’s the more social of the two. Most of the time, Snake can hold a conversation for longer than Cliff, as she is better able to adapt to the personalities of others. She tends to function as Cliff’s voice of reason as well, and has on multiple occasions prevented him from getting into a fight with another over matters of human politics—something which Snake really doesn’t care about.
Errata: Cliff was born in the highlands of Amna and, during one of the earlier ceremonies and celebrations following his birth, it was discovered that he had within him a magic-generating organ. Realizing that it would probably stop working with age, all later ceremonies were dedicated to making sure he would remain capable throughout his life of creating his own power. As a result, his naming rite was rushed, and he was left with the unfortunate moniker of Clombd. At the age of eight, during a rite which would bind him to a sword (as was common for the children of warrior families like his), it was discovered that, despite their best efforts, they had failed to prevent his magic generator from deteriorating. They thought that giving him a magical sword would help, and had to—again—rush the blade’s naming ceremony in order to fit in the magical additions. Two years later, they discovered that this still wasn’t working, and bound him to a creature that reacted strongly to magic, again rushing the naming ceremony for reasons that young Clombd would never understand (maybe they were just so used to it by then). Oddly enough, this appeared to be the trick, and at the age of twelve Clombd and Snake left Amna for the city-state of Neo-Ras before Clombd’s family could do any further damage. Too ashamed of his birth name, Clombd insited on just being called “That Guy from the Cliff,” which was eventually shortened to “Cliff.” Taking on menial jobs at first, Cliff became an adventurer-for-hire after three-and-a-half years, once he became mostly fluent in Rassic. This is what he’s been doing since, taking on various missions for any individual who would pay what he thought was sufficient. As such, he’s seen much of the world and made quite a name for himself, and not all that much surprises him anymore. And if you don’t want to do any math, he’s roughly twenty-five right now.

Spoiler
Name: Dahlia Belstrap
Gender: Female
Race: Augmented human
Weapons / Abilities: Strap is a Courier for Dangerous People. She has to know how to take care of herself. Her primary weapon is the solar powered Ventcore Shoulder-fired recoilless rifle usually slung across her back.
The Ventcore projects a hard-light explosive flechette capable of punching through most body armor and potentially walls, depending on how charged it is. By turning it round the other way and gunning the exhaust port, Strap can do what people in her profession call “frog blasting the Ventcore” with the aid of a clunky pair of frictionless skates (spraypainted a cheerful green). It allows her to boost forward at phenomenal speeds, even up into the air for brief instances. Years of practice have let her control her boosting.
Sort of.
A good third of her by now has had to be replaced due to work-related injury. She has the average augs of a courier: reticule, mental uplink with eyecams, reinforced joints with shock absorption, and, of course, the tiny bomb on the back of her neck, ready to swiftly decapitate her if she stops playing by the Triad's rules. Of special note is her synthetic right arm she got to replace the one an enforcer from the Fantoma Vengadores took for a debt unpaid. It has a hollow forearm and cycles in for a combat knife or a narrow, metalcarving laser on command.
Her aim is good with most weapons, but anything low-tech enough to have much of a kick to it messes with her spread. She regularly carries a wicked little snub-nose automatic she keeps in her arm.
All of these augmentations are paid for and technically owned by the Triad and have sunk her further into debt. Her body is no longer entirely her own, and with every injury sustained in her duties the Triad replaces more of it and puts her further into debt.
Description: A high school dropout with a chip on the shoulder that isn't carrying her laser-powered rocket launcher, Strap lives fast, but not fast enough to outrun her regrets and the people she's consistently managed to get on the wrong side of. She's as quick, sharp, and (at 5'1”) compact as the knife she's got hidden in her elbow. Her black bomber jacket's got ceramic plates stitched on the inside and various badges of the trade, vulgar slogans, and maybe a skimpy-dressed devil or two stitched on the outside.
Most girls her age would wear the goggles to piss their suburban parents off, but that's what her nose ring and her green dreadlocks are for. The goggles are to keep from blinding herself off her Ventcore blasts and to protect herself at the blatantly unsafe speed she operates.
She's working off her debt for the Qing triad, desperately avoiding the debt collectors of the Fantomas Vengadores, keeping her head down around the Pureline Brotherhood, and holding the corners of her spiraling life down as much as humanly possible.
Errata: Dahlia Belstrap's life thus far has been an unfortunate subversion of the cyberpunk ideal. She made a few mistakes early and let things slide entirely out of hand. Most of her time is spent working for people she is desperately and rightfully afraid of, pretending to her friends she retains any sort of control in her life, staring blankly at the peeled wallpaper of her Hab-Block, and battling her mounting insomnia. She hasn't talked to her family in four years. She is rocketing down a path with one possible destination, and it is a grisly and unfortunate one, and she knows it. Her removal to the grand battle severs the complex plexus of criminal debts and responsibilities she has been laboring under, resulting in a degree of freedom she hasn't experienced for half a decade.

Spoiler
Name: Humbert Kinnaird
Gender: Male
Race: Demon
Weapons / Abilities: His only weapon is a guitar that he has had jinxed to be on his person at all times, if it is stolen or forgotten it simply re-appears on his person.
Description: Humbert appears human. Average height, very fit for his age (50's) and usually dressed in casual yet smart looking garb.
When he isn't rocking out this is.
When rocking Humbert turn into a true demon, a stature of 4 men, giant horns protruding unevenly from his appendages, flames engulfing his entire being, a forked tongue flickering from a a bovine head, 4 buffed arms with 4 meaty hands and a long and whip like tail. If there ever was a parallel for a demon it would be Humbert when rocking.
It was not always like this, you see Humbert was cursed. Humbert, being a middle aged rock idol of the past had recently attained a prime time position on a prime television network for his show “Death Stage” wherein he tutored several budding rockers in the arts in a crude and widely criticised manner. This was all and well, when a wizard deemed this unacceptable after appearing in season 3 of his show and taking a berating from Humbert.
The wizard cursed him with turning into a total demon that he was acting like when he practised his passion. In addition to this the wizard cursed him to be incapable of being nice when teaching as to hinder his ambitions in teaching the next generation.
Unfortunately wizards aren't known for their logic and ratings soared. The show survived another 5 seasons over it's expected death. Towards the end however, it was becoming apparent that Humbert wasn't human any more, as the demon curse was wearing in. Towards the end of the series you can make out reddish skin when he was rocking, as well as that one time the drums caught fire. Admitted to curse rehab he was told he would never rock again.
This of course never keeps a rocker down. At his next big live gig, he went full demon and there were 43 fatalities.
Since then, he has been living in a cell, not teaching, not rocking. Much to his disgust. He is just bursting to get out and teach the world of his arts.
Errata: Incapable of any genre but rock, his weakness is classical music.

Spoiler
Name: Ikhinde [ih-KEEN-day]
Text color: #A515A5
Gender: Female, no matter the current body/ies.
Race: Multimorphic Kleptoparasite
Equipment/Abilities: Ikhinde is a hivemind who primarily obtains her bodies by displacing the original occupants. Once the soul is displaced, she is able to shove it into another vessel, and gains limited transformative capabilities over the stolen body. She begins the battle with a single body; a harpy with a heart defect.
To displace a soul, Ikhinde first obtains an invitation into the body, and then simply allows herself to fill the available space, compressing the host's soul until it can be dislodged. Without an invitation, she is incapable of entering another's body. Without entering a body she cannot compress a soul, and is thus unable to pry them out of their shell. In a similar vein, she has great difficulty dealing with free-floating souls, as it is nearly impossible for her to envelop and compress them.
She cannot gain control over artificial or predominantly non-biological bodies, they simply go inert once their owner is incapacitated. However, she can place souls inside bodies that she is unable to occupy, provided that they would be able to operate them. She does not obtain any of the memories, skills, or supernatural capabilities possessed by the former inhabitants of her bodies, nor does she store her own memories, skills, thoughts, etc. within the confines of her skulls. Still, she will die if she loses all of her bodies, to death or otherwise.
The strength of her transformational capabilities is directly tied to the number of bodies she possesses at a given time. With only one body, the changes she can maintain are nearly insignificant. A slight change of pigment over a small area. A papercut temporarily healed. A problematic blood vessel sealed off. She is unable to permanently alter her bodies with her ability, but she is capable of sustaining a transformation indefinitely, for as long as she has sufficient bodies to enable the transformation. The further a transformation deviates from the unaltered state of the body, the more powerful she would need to be to enable or sustain it. The strength of this power does not function like a "pool" that all her bodies draw from, that would allow one body to make extreme changes by locking the others in their original forms. The strength is a measure of how far from the original form she can currently transform all bodies, and remains the same no matter how many bodies are transformed, so long as her body count remains constant.
Though Ikhinde has lived many lifetimes, in many simultaneous bodies, she has not amassed as much knowledge as one might reasonably expect. Though she is capable of processing vast quantities of sensory information and has practiced to be able to respond appropriately to each body's situation as though independent of the others, Ikhinde is quite poor at academics. She has attempted to learn useful academic skills countless times; elemental summoning, geometric computations, planeswalking, structural configuration, forgotten poetry, and so on. Inevitably she would become bored or frustrated by the material or the teacher, and consequently pay less attention to that particular body. She seldom retained anything of use from such attempts. She's picked up a bit of golemancy from her most recent lover, largely thanks to her soul-manipulating ability enabling her to bypass the most complex parts of the ritual.
Description: In her youth, Ikhinde did indeed exploit her innate abilities to a truly monstrous extent. Though she remains the monster in myth, she has spent the centuries following her defeat learning to function as a member of civilized society, and considers herself completely reformed.
She abides by her word, and endeavors to barter honestly and fairly with others, especially when it is concerning the ownership of their bodies. She attempts to avoid committing violence and murder--she reminds herself that while she can afford to lose a body or two, most people cannot. She strives to be polite, considerate, and aware of the existence of other people as something possessing inherent value.
To reinforce the last point, Ikhinde has taken to keeping at least one body in close proximity to a loved one whenever possible. Her family currently consists of five surviving children from various relationships, and one longtime lover.

She now obtains most of her bodies from deals with the elderly and those with serious health problems, placing their souls in quality golems in exchange. She is able to apply her transformative powers towards repairing and rejuvenating these bodies, allowing her to use them for substantially longer than they ought to have lasted.
Her harpy body is nearly six feet tall, more than half of which is attributable to her stilt-like legs, ending in talons better suited to perching than to walking. Her wingspan is a bit over sixteen feet, but she is unable to use them to do more than glide short distances until she is able to strengthen the muscles. Her coloration is predominantly a yellowed green, accented by a burst of fuschia feathers at the neck. Her primary and secondary wing feathers are discolored, but otherwise normal for a harpy. giving A belt of tinted glass beads attaches to her striped half-skirt, and secures a heavily embroidered satchel to her back. The vambraces worn on her arms and legs are decorative rather than functional, made of soft leather and secured with yellow ribbons.

Spoiler
Name: Mariel
Gender: Feminine
Race: Divine implement
Weapons / Abilities: She has a mean swing with that stop sign. She also seems to be able to produce copies of the Bible out of seemingly nowhere. She’s made of stone and can’t fly, but sometimes she, uh, forgets that.
Description: Mariel is the instrument of God’s justice, an angel sent among mortals to judge the sinners from the saints, easing up the Savior’s job when He comes back down from Heaven. That doesn't explain why she’s made of stone and covered in moss and bird shit, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the “tomb marker somehow turned animate” theory, which doesn't explain jack. Besides, God works in mysterious ways.
She looks like what you might expect a stone tomb angel to look like. A gentle face, albeit totally unemotional, with a neat cascade of wavy hair that would definitely be shining and golden if it were real. The years of water streaming down her face have given her black streaks of tears (she weeps for the hearts of sinners). Immaculately sculpted wings are folded against her back. Her hands reflexively fold up into a praying position, ceremonially holding her prized possession: a rusty old stop sign, which she uses to behead those whose sins are unforgivable. Everything else is concealed behind a loose, flowing robe, also stone. All of it is pockmarked and worn, and of course, covered in moss and bird shit.
Outwardly, she appears confident in her faith, but sometimes she questions God's decisions and wonders why He made her out of stone, moss, and bird shit.
Nobody really knows where she came from, but it was a pretty big headline when she killed some dude in Times Square. It seems pretty impossible for something like that to subsequently disappear from the sights of the police and the military, but that's what happened.

SpoilerWhat is this?
This is a Grand Battle! It is, in short, a six-way collaborative writing project disguised as a writing contest disguised as a roleplay battle. Six beings of varied origin are forced together by a nigh-omnipotent power and told to kill one another. You write about what happens next.

How does it work?
First you submit a character. It can be anyone or anything from any sort of setting you'd like. I will choose six of them, and they will be thrust (presumably against their will) into a battle to the death with one another. From that point on, the six people who submitted those characters will be writing about the exploits of their character as well as all the others in whatever setting I put them in. They may just start fighting, they may plot to overthrow the contest, they may have other goals that are completely unrelated to the battle at all. However, they can't just kill one another outright! Once the events in the setting have reached a dramatic crescendo, the player whose writing was least interesting will be eliminated from the competition and their character will die. The remaining writers and characters will proceed to the next round in a new setting of my specification, and the process will repeat until only one remains.

So the characters can be anything?
Well, yes and no. Remember that ultimately, the goal is to make an interesting story. No player characters will die until the round is over, at which point the chosen character will ultimately die, regardless of how implausible. If your character is so powerful you would have difficulty rationalizing them NOT instantly destroying all the others outright, you will probably have a hard time writing them. Likewise, if they're so sturdy that you'd have difficulty putting them in a situation where the other characters might kill them, you will also have a tough time. However, these aren't rules, just guidelines; the field is wide open. Other battles have had everything from living cartoon characters to radioactive fruit to sentient cultural revolutions to cyborg zombie vacuum cleaners. All you need is to fill out this form:

Is this one related to the others?
The best answer I can give is "don't worry about it". Much like Schazer's Grand Battle S?, continuity is strictly on an "If everyone wants it" basis. It will certainly not, however, have any ties to seasons 1-3. There is no "required reading" list.

Does this replace Schazer's second battle?
Absolutely not. If you signed up for Grand Battle S? and didn't get in, Schazer is still planning on hosting a second battle where there will be a slot saved for you. But, whether you would rather join my battle now or join her second battle when it goes up, you won't be hurting either of our feelings.

SpoilerName: Cliff and Snake

Pronoun: He and she

Race: Human, from the nation of Amna; Lesser Ouroboros

Text Color: He’s an adventurer! (#000080)

Appearance: Of only slightly-above-average height, Cliff is thin enough that he appears, from a distance at least, to be nearly a head higher. Like all Amnans, his skin is rather dark and he is completely bald. His clothing is of a cyan material which resembles leather in texture, and leaves essentially only his head and hands bare. Also, it’s thinner at prominent joints, and exposed near the ankles. His sword is in a scabbard on his back at all times, and his hands tend to twitch slightly while he isn’t holding it. His posture isn’t that great, and he tends to continuously survey his surroundings. When speaking to people, he is usually calm, though he’ll often seem distracted. In tone, his voice is fairly deep, though average for a young man of his height. Although communication isn’t often an issue in these things, I should mention that he was brought up speaking Amnan, which has long, rounded vowels and soft edges, and he has trouble covering his accent when speaking the sharply enunciated, tight, and conservative language of Rassic. He is still fluent in both tongues.

Snake is dark grey in color, and not particularly long or thick. As a snake, she has no eyelids, but unlike most of her brethren, she also lacks eyes… most of the time. In the presence of magic, bright yellow light emanates from her empty sockets, and she becomes able to speak. Her voice at this time is predictably raspy and whispery, but in a way that’s honestly more obnoxious than foreboding. She understands both Amnan and Rassic through a psychic link between her and Cliff, but more on that later. She is most often found either wrapped around Cliff’s waist or slithering next to him.

Personality: Cliff began as a brash young adventurer, and is still brash and adventurous now, but to a lesser extent. He is torn between a longing to see the world and a longing of equal passion to return home to Amna. He’s a bit hyperactive, and he twitches when not occupied by anything. Also, some ambushes and assassination attempts have made him paranoid, and he looks around constantly. Despite this, he has learned to stay focused on a task, and will see a task through to the end if he starts it. He is quite loyal to people who’ve earned his trust, but that’s gotten harder over the years—he can be quick to judge, especially sorcerers and non-humans. His entire view of the concept of heroism is based around self-sacrifice, so he’s been known to act drastically in dire situations and put his life on the line even when it might not have been necessary. Overall, however, he considers himself more of a wanderer than a hero, taking on adventures for money—though lately he’s been more than willing to take payment for just traveling somewhere and mapping the place, worn down by nine-and-a-half years of combat-heavy adventuring. He isn’t quite educated, but he is smart and resourceful, and can figure his way out of a tough situation.

Snake is a bit sore about her name, and doesn’t enjoy being addressed, but other than that is actually very approachable. Though she can only speak in the presence of magic, she is quick to comfort or defend any who appear in need if she believes they deserve it. Also, despite being Cliff’s familiar, Snake is surprisingly independent, and if anything she’s the more social of the two. Most of the time, Snake can hold a conversation for longer than Cliff, as she is better able to adapt to the personalities of others. She tends to function as Cliff’s voice of reason as well, and has on multiple occasions prevented him from getting into a fight with another over matters of human politics—something which Snake really doesn’t care about.

Weapons: Cliff’s sword, like almost everything he’s ever touched, has a rather unfortunate name: in this case, Something Something of Death. In conversation he refers to it as Sosod. The sword was bound to him before he was even old enough to hold it, and the ritual that magically connected them had to be rushed slightly, so any hope of a good name was thrown out the window in order to keep everything else working well. The blade is black, with a light blue hilt to match Cliff’s armor, and is normally meant to be wielded with one hand—it can get larger, however, if Cliff places both hands on the hilt and concentrates. Within the blade is a very small, self-replenishing cartridge of magic: in this world, a sand-like substance. Despite the fact that it can ‘reload’ a supposedly infinite number of times, this takes a while and therefore magical swordplay is mostly restricted to one spell per battle. Also, the amount of magic that it can hold at one time only allows for small spells to be cast, such as the size increase it may undergo. It is also worth noting that spells used may only affect the sword itself directly and temporarily, such as making it sharper, more durable, or hotter (it can reach a surprisingly high temperature)—and Cliff could not, for example, use the magic in the sword to project an energy shield or launch a fireball… even if the fireball were leaping from the tip of the blade. Cliff has a good level of experience wielding Sosod, and though it has been used to kill before, and though it has ‘death’ in its name, Cliff would only resort to killing if nothing else worked. Also, his armor is enchanted to be slightly more durable than it looks—nothing remarkable, though it will provide more effective protection against high falls and bludgeoning than stabbing weapons. As a final note, Snake is able to wrap around his waist as a belt. This does roughly nothing for him beyond aesthetics, but Snake herself is better protected in this position.

Abilities: Cliff was born with an extra organ in his body that has a somewhat-self-replenishing-but-not-really supply of magic. If he casts a small spell, he’ll probably get the magic back, but if he does something much larger, it will permanently scar this organ, which will possibly spread and cause other organs to fail, eventually leading to his death. This wouldn’t be a problem in Amna or Neo-Ras, where he could simply have it removed, but out in the battle that probably won’t be a possibility. As with the sword, all of Cliff’s spells are temporary modifications to himself. Increasing the duration of a modification takes no more magic, but it does take more effort and concentration. In order to make something permanent, he would need an additional amount of magic at the outset, and whether or not concentration would be required to keep it present would depend on whether it is a physical or a magical modification. He’s not the strongest hero out there, but he’s fast and agile, and as mentioned he is fairly resourceful. As an Amnan, his metabolism is the product of an environment where food is scarce—from an evolutionary perspective, since Amnan civilization has advanced enough to make this mostly a non-issue. Anyway, this means that Cliff can go longer without food than most other humans. He’s used to living pretty well, though, so he’ll be pretty uncomfortable going several weeks without food, but he will survive.

Snake, as a Lesser Ouroboros, has a few abilities uncommon to her fellow serpents. Foremost, she can effectively freeze herself in time by biting her own tale. In this petrified state, she won’t age, and she is quite a bit more durable, though she can’t move without the aid of a strong wind. She isn’t a constrictor, and her venom isn’t lethal, but it does induce sleep or lethargy in most animals if she can penetrate their flesh with her fangs. She shares with the rest of her species an all-liquid diet, and as such her fangs are able to siphon up nearly any liquid—and most will suffice, as the main function of her venom is to combine with ingested liquids in order to create something safe for consumption. She prefers animal blood, but she could go for some time on a diet of plain water or other substances. And because she’s that smart, she’s managed to get around her limited ability to speak: because her link to Cliff is magical in nature, and that is always present, she can potentially gain the ability to speak and the sense of sight at any time through intense concentration. When her eyes glow, it is the only time she has a functional sense of sight, and everything is tinted yellow.

Together, they share a Bond of Familiarity—Cliff’s bond with Sosod makes him the only one who can use its magic, and makes it slightly harder for other people to wield it. The Bond of Familiarity is more powerful than that. This bond allows the two to communicate telepathically (to an extent, more through emotions than specific phrases) and inherently know each other’s relative locations. Normally, killing one Familiar would drive the other insane, but through intense training of mental stamina they believe that one would still be able to function if the other was killed, though they might experience moderate-to-severe memory loss. This training was the result of an agreement that they would be able to avenge each other’s deaths, and may make them resistant to psionic attack—though in their world, that isn’t really a thing.

Bio: Cliff was born in the highlands of Amna and, during one of the earlier ceremonies and celebrations following his birth, it was discovered that he had within him a magic-generating organ. Realizing that it would probably stop working with age, all later ceremonies were dedicated to making sure he would remain capable throughout his life of creating his own power. As a result, his naming rite was rushed, and he was left with the unfortunate moniker of Clombd. At the age of eight, during a rite which would bind him to a sword (as was common for the children of warrior families like his), it was discovered that, despite their best efforts, they had failed to prevent his magic generator from deteriorating. They thought that giving him a magical sword would help, and had to—again—rush the blade’s naming ceremony in order to fit in the magical additions. Two years later, they discovered that this still wasn’t working, and bound him to a creature that reacted strongly to magic, again rushing the naming ceremony for reasons that young Clombd would never understand (maybe they were just so used to it by then). Oddly enough, this appeared to be the trick, and at the age of twelve Clombd and Snake left Amna for the city-state of Neo-Ras before Clombd’s family could do any further damage. Too ashamed of his birth name, Clombd insited on just being called “That Guy from the Cliff,” which was eventually shortened to “Cliff.” Taking on menial jobs at first, Cliff became an adventurer-for-hire after three-and-a-half years, once he became mostly fluent in Rassic. This is what he’s been doing since, taking on various missions for any individual who would pay what he thought was sufficient. As such, he’s seen much of the world and made quite a name for himself, and not all that much surprises him anymore. And if you don’t want to do any math, he’s roughly twenty-five right now.

Miscellaneous: Cliff’s reaction might actually be hilarious if the Grandmaster introduces him as Clombd. Also, if it turns out that there’s and actual snake called a Lesser Ouroboros, it’s completely unintentional. I really know nothing about snakes.

Spoiler

SpoilerName: King
Text Color: Black as the Underworld(bold)
Gender: Male
Race: Unknown (possibly human)

Weapons/Abilities: King carries a claymore, about as long as his arm, forged from an unbreakable steel in the fires of the underworld. He seems strong enough to resist intense amounts of heat and pressure. Also has telepathy, strangely enough.

Description: King is a bulky skeleton of supposed human origin. He stands at 6'9". His ribcage seems a bit more puffed out and swollen then a normal human ribcage, but not by much. His bones are bleached white, but covered in stains of yellow, gray, and red; all from various sources. King is also missing his jawbone. He wears a king's crown on his skull, always shifted to the right in preference. A purple cloak of unknown material is draped over his shoulders and back. This cloak has two golden shoulderpads attached to it. He carries his sword in his left hand.

King was more of the strong silent type, even before the loss of the thing he used for talking in a rather tumultuous fight. He believes that actions speak louder than words, therefore, he acts much more often than he speaks. As he's spent as long as he can remember fighting, King has a fair amount of 'Warrior's pride', meaning he values the fight over his life (if he even has any) and honors any last wishes of his enemies, as long as they don't interfere with death. Honestly, King acts more like a chivalrous knight than a commander of an undead army.

Errata: King is one of three rulers in their 'section' of the Underworld. He is the Warrior ruler, the other two being the Persuasive and Inventor rulers. In addition to leading the armies, King is the public figure head. He was taken during a downtime in fighting, making him both happy to be fighting again, but worried for his land. What if there's an enemy attack while he's gone?

King gained his telepathy when he lost his lower jaw in a particularly fierce battle with some demons. It came to him the 'day' after. He chalks it up to lingering demon magics, but in truth, he has no idea where the power came from.

SpoilerAt least, Steve used to be alive. He's pretty sure of that. 'Tsorta like how you notice when you're breathing, but you sure as heck pay attention when the wind gets knocked out of you. It probably felt nice to breathe.

Steve is––well, he's not quite sure. Actually, he's not completely sure if he's a he, but if he's going by Steve, he may as well go by he, too.

Steve's a color, first and foremost. Green, but not like those spring greens that dance around the strip mall like the afterlife was an after school special. No, a sturdy, solid green. Forest. The slice right between emerald and black-coffee brown. Reek-of-a-September-pond-just-before-the-moon-rises green.

He can touch objects. Persuade them to move, sometimes, if they're already inclined to do so. They usually glow Steve-green, too, if they're feeling agreeable. Not really glow, though. The light doesn't really go out, so much as it gets taken in.

These days, Steve's been getting around with a couple of boots th'look like they're crossing the last item on a bucket list. Gives people something to look at if they need to. Stays out of their way if they don't. It's a mutual relationship.

Steve's here to please.

Name: Steve
Color: #143308
Race: G-g-g-g-g-g-ghooost!
Weapons/Ablities: Object friendliness and possession

SpoilerName: Dahlia Belstrap.
Text color: Aftershock green.
Gender: Female.
Race: Human, with severe augmentations. Age 20.

Weapons/Abilities: Strap is a Courier for Dangerous People. She has to know how to take care of herself. Her primary weapon is the solar powered Ventcore Shoulder-fired recoilless rifle usually slung across her back.
The Ventcore projects a hard-light explosive flechette capable of punching through most body armor and potentially walls, depending on how charged it is. By turning it round the other way and gunning the exhaust port, Strap can do what people in her profession call “frog blasting the Ventcore” with the aid of a clunky pair of frictionless skates (spraypainted a cheerful green). It allows her to boost forward at phenomenal speeds, even up into the air for brief instances. Years of practice have let her control her boosting.
Sort of.
A good third of her by now has had to be replaced due to work-related injury. She has the average augs of a courier: reticule, mental uplink with eyecams, reinforced joints with shock absorption, and, of course, the tiny bomb on the back of her neck, ready to swiftly decapitate her if she stops playing by the Triad's rules. Of special note is her synthetic right arm she got to replace the one an enforcer from the Fantoma Vengadores took for a debt unpaid. It has a hollow forearm and cycles in for a combat knife or a narrow, metalcarving laser on command.
Her aim is good with most weapons, but anything low-tech enough to have much of a kick to it messes with her spread. She regularly carries a wicked little snub-nose automatic she keeps in her arm.
All of these augmentations are paid for and technically owned by the Triad and have sunk her further into debt. Her body is no longer entirely her own, and with every injury sustained in her duties the Triad replaces more of it and puts her further into debt.

Description: A high school dropout with a chip on the shoulder that isn't carrying her laser-powered rocket launcher, Strap lives fast, but not fast enough to outrun her regrets and the people she's consistently managed to get on the wrong side of. She's as quick, sharp, and (at 5'1”) compact as the knife she's got hidden in her elbow. Her black bomber jacket's got ceramic plates stitched on the inside and various badges of the trade, vulgar slogans, and maybe a skimpy-dressed devil or two stitched on the outside.
Most girls her age would wear the goggles to piss their suburban parents off, but that's what her nose ring and her green dreadlocks are for. The goggles are to keep from blinding herself off her Ventcore blasts and to protect herself at the blatantly unsafe speed she operates.
She's working off her debt for the Qing triad, desperately avoiding the debt collectors of the Fantomas Vengadores, keeping her head down around the Pureline Brotherhood, and holding the corners of her spiraling life down as much as humanly possible.

Errata:
-Dahlia Belstrap's life thus far has been an unfortunate subversion of the cyberpunk ideal. She made a few mistakes early and let things slide entirely out of hand. Most of her time is spent working for people she is desperately and rightfully afraid of, pretending to her friends she retains any sort of control in her life, staring blankly at the peeled wallpaper of her Hab-Block, and battling her mounting insomnia. She hasn't talked to her family in four years. She is rocketing down a path with one possible destination, and it is a grisly and unfortunate one, and she knows it. Her removal to the grand battle severs the complex plexus of criminal debts and responsibilities she has been laboring under, resulting in a degree of freedom she hasn't experienced for half a decade.

SpoilerSnake's color is 0000FF

SpoilerHeart of Faerie's color is #FFA500

Spoilerwhoops sorry i went on vacation right before i would have seen the meesage that this had started and i only just got back

i'll go ahead and go after garu