Mini-Grand Organization Thread

Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Printable Version

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Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Pinary - 07-10-2011

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

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

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

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

Secondary function complete...

Executing primary function...

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

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

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

Now, Mini-Grands are, as I've said, smaller. These feature just four characters, three rounds, and a few restrictions.
-First, a word-per-post limit. In the first round, posts are limited to 500 words long, followed by 750 for the second and 1000 for the third. (Each writer may, however, make one post per round that's up to double the limit.) Lolnope, people are chafing, and these are meant to be fun, so screw it.
-Each round will be up to about one month long. If a round hits that point and the story is still ramping up, it gets cut off.

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

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

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

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

List of Mini-Grands
- 5801 - Pick Yer Poison, Dragon Fogel, Solaris, Ixcaliber (Pinary hosting)

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

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

Code:
[b]Username[/b]:

[b]Name[/b]: (Your character's name)

[b]Gender[/b]: 

[b]Race[/b]: (Include a brief description if it's not blatantly obvious.)

[b]Colour[/b]: (The colour you'll write your posts in. No tags other than [color], and no using plain black. Please avoid eye-searing.)

[b]Biography[/b]: 

[b]Description[/b]: (Physical, mental, emotional, the whole deal.)

[b]Items/Abilities[/b]: (Things they do/have/are that make them suited for a battle to the death.)

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

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Pick Yer Poison - 07-10-2011

Name: Dan "Digger" Buller
Gender: Male
Font color: #33BBCC
Race: Shill
Weapons/Abilities: Digger's only weapon is a four foot long shovel. The shaft is thick and made of some sort of wood, although Digger's not really sure what kind. The digging end is metal, and although it's had its share of wear and tear it's still perfectly functional. The word "DIGGER" is engraved on the handle.

Description: Digger is humanoid, but it would be hard to mistake him for one. His skin is a bright teal, and he is completely hairless. He stands nearly seven feet tall and has long, stick-like limbs. His hands have seven similarly stick-like fingers, and his feet have seven stubby little toes. Despite his appearance, Digger is anything but weak; Shills are much stronger than they look. Digger's eyes are about an inch larger in diameter than a human's, and the black iris fills most of them. A tiny pupil lies in the middle of each, although it dilates and contracts as needed, giving him impressive night vision. He has flat discs on the sides of his head that serve as ears.

Biography:

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Spoiler

Quote:"Shill culture is heavy with superstitions regarding the afterlife, to the point where much of their daily lives are governed by them. Unlike most civilizations, most of these superstitions were not abandoned by the time they achieved faster-than-light space travel and joined the growing intergalactic community. Most Shills still lived in dirt huts at that time; the vast majority of Shills cared little about the discovery lauded as the most important one in their entire history by the few who did. Those few promptly took all of their families and blasted off into the brave new intergalactic world they'd discovered. They quickly found out that it wasn't as amazing as it had first appeared, and most of them went back home and returned to a quiet tribal life in shame, trying to forget that there was anything more than their peaceful little village.

Others, however, were eager to adjust to a new way of life...or had no other option. Shill spaceships are not known for their workmanship; there are, in fact, only four known working models at this point, and three of them are located in museums. The fourth belongs to Dan "Digger" Buller, a gravedigger living on the largely-human planet Polmer, and one of only a few hundred Shills who did not return to their homeworld. While it may seem odd that the spaceship has not been stolen, it should be noted that Shill spaceships are not even collector's items; a full tank of fuel for one is worth more than the ship itself."

-excerpt from the Narrapedia article on Shills

Digger hefted his shovel, surveying the shallow pit he had just finished digging. Unlike humans, who sweat when they're hot, Shills vent the excess heat directly out as steam; therefore, had you laid a hand on Digger's shoulder just then, you would have felt uncomfortably hot air coming off of him. Digger pulled out a low-tech walkie-talkie and hit the talk button. "Digger to chapel, come in."

A reply squawked back at him. "This is the chapel, Digger. Are you done with those graves?"

"Graves done. Anything else, or can I bed?"

"Nothing else, Digger. You may go to bed." The walkie-talkie clicked off and Digger grimaced. His English was still rather shaky, even after two years of work, and the chapel administrator was constantly correcting him in the hopes it would improve. There were only a few hundred Shills not living on the Shill homeworld, and their homeworld had been declared a no-fly zone, at the request of the Shill Science Chief, who was the closest thing to a planetary leader the Shills had available when they entered the intergalactic community. Because of this, there were no mainstream Shill translation programs, and the few privately created ones were only a step above useless anyway. Even with his disjointed sentences, his own English skills were still more reliable than one of them.

Digger strode off to his Shill spaceship that served as his home, in much the same way that a trailer van did for some humans. But not on Polmer, of course; the atmosphere wasn't lethal or anything dangerous like that, but it was much too thin, to the point that if a human stayed out in it for more than about half an hour they'd start to feel increasingly weak and dizzy. Happily, Shill lungs are good at compensating for atmospheric density (or in this case, a lack of it), which allowed Digger to take up odd jobs that were tricky or even impossible for the human colonists to do. Many of these duties were already filled by other aliens that needed work and had the necessary biological, or in some cases mechanical, equipment for it. Fortunately, Digger was able to find work as a gravedigger, a job no one else really wanted, and that was both important enough to need a dedicated worker for but not vital enough to sacrifice digging equipment for. Digger didn't earn much, but the concept of money was novel to him at the time, and he had no way of knowing that he was being paid much too little for his work. Not that he cared; as long as he had food and drink he was satisfied. He did entertain some romantic fantasies of somehow finding a female Shill from time to time, but those of course were free of charge. And in time, he had managed to discard most of his deeply ingrained superstitions about the dead.

Digger carefully pulled open the hatch to what everyone else called the "Shillship." He wasn't really sure what they meant by that, to be honest, not even after the chapel administrator had told him it was a "portmanteau," but he laughed along with everyone else because he didn't want to seem uncool, and didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he couldn't speak English very well, even though everyone in the colony already knew about it. The reason he lived in the Shill spaceship was because it was the living space most suited to a Shill occupant that could be found on the entire colony. Even if it was a terribly-designed spaceship, and even if lifting off in it was like flipping a coin with "LIVE" on one side and "DIE" on the other, it did make for more spacious living quarters than most of the other alien workers got. Racism against non-humans on a primarily human colony was very much a reality, although most of the colonists were used to them. Sadly, the most racist ones were the ones in charge, while most of the civilians and workers who mingled with aliens on a daily basis were on a first-name basis with many of them, or whatever was considered a first-name basis in the differing cultures.

Digger pulled the door hatch closed and dropped the shovel onto the table next to it, then tumbled into the cot on the floor of the ship, drawing the covers over his long figure. Because of the thin atmosphere, Polmer nights were cold, and the days weren't much better. Digger's spaceship had no heating, but one of the colonists, a dark-skinned merchant with graying hair, had been kind enough to sell him a space heater for a reduced price soon after he had gotten his job as a gravedigger. When Digger told him how much he was earning, he had tightened his lips, muttered something Digger still didn't understand, and had taken out a red marker and crossed off the last digit on the price tag. From that point on, the man - whose name was Dyson - had taken Digger under his wing, and made sure Digger consulted with him before spending his little pay on anything, a practice which had saved Digger from making some very bad purchases. Digger had been extremely upset a few months back when Dyson had died of a heart failure, and even moreso when he found himself digging a grave for him. He'd put a coin at the head of Dyson's grave, but it was stolen a few days later. He spent a fruitless day looking for the thief before giving up. Dyson's goods had gone to his daughter, back on Earth, who had decided to auction them off. Digger had picked up the shovel at that sale, deciding it was much nicer than the standard plastic-and-metal one he'd been given to do his job with, and spent a few days' worth of free time carefully carving the word "DIGGER," a nickname he had garnered, into the wooden handle with a sharp piece of metal he had found on the ship.

Digger was just drifting off to sleep when his walkie-talkie squawked at him. "Chapel to Digger, come in."

He rolled over with a groan and picked it up. "This is Digger, chapel. What up?"

"Got another order for you, Digger. Some guy just kicked it due to food poisoning. That's what they're calling it now if you eat alien food and it turns your digestive tract into jelly, apparently. Anyway, I know it's late and it's a rush order, but he's stinking up the place, and they're already setting up the service. Digger? Digger, you there? Darnit, Dan, you didn't just roll over and go back to sleep, did you?"

But Digger had vanished between the words "digestive" and "tract," leaving only a glowing space heater, a cot, and an increasingly annoyed man talking on a walkie-talkie, all inside a defunct spaceship found only in three other places in the universe.

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Ixcaliber - 07-10-2011

Username: Ixcaliber
Name: The Abomination
Gender: None. (It is the preferred pronoun though male if you are going to insist on gender specific pronouns)
Font colour: Dark red for eviltimes
Species: Unknown
Abilities: The Abomination has the ability to rip worlds in twain, to enslave entire civilisations to its every whim with nothing but a thought, to consume universes whole in a fiery inferno of death and destruction if it is bored and desires some light entertainment. It has the ability to take control of reality itself, create horrifying creatures out of thin air, to strip the skin from its enemiesâ bones and make them suffer in perpetuity without even lifting a finger.

Technically it can do all of those things... to anything that happens to be within the confines of the safe that it is trapped inside. You know what Iâll write the other stuff first and come back to this.

Description: Inside the safe the Abomination is a vast being, a twisting mass of tentacles and faces forever contorting into horrifying configurations. It is covered with razor sharp gnashing teeth, scores of bloodshot beady eyes staring into your soul. It is the face of death and madness and after seeing it you may never be the same again.

What the others actually see is a 40 centimetre squared safe made from thick black obsidian, carved with glowing red runes. It has a thick black handle, also inscribed with runes, which looks like it would easily turn and open the safe if one was inclined to do so and oh my gosh does it look tempting.

The Abomination is hugely sadistic; it revels in death and destruction even if it is not the one that is causing it. It does however strive to always be the one that is causing it. It is angry, yes, but it is a pent up anger. It knows it needs someone else to help it out of this safe and is prepared to play nice if it believes that it can convince someone to release it, after which it will kill everyone. No exceptions. Seriously do not even think about opening this safe.

Biography: The Abomination was an awful world destroying monster and one day a bunch of heroes or villains or whoever sealed him into this safe to stop him from destroying everything. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since then his powers are slowly starting to manifest on the outside of the safe and now heâs in a Grand Battle.

Abilities Redux: Outside of the safe he has limited telekinesis and the ability to slightly alter other peopleâs perception of the world. He canât take control of people but he can be like that little voice in the back of your head which is all like âhey why not open that cool safe I bet there is some treasure inside it will be so awesomeâ.

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Dragon Fogel - 07-10-2011

Name: Anne (Last name varies. See Abilities.)
Race: Human
Color: #FF00AA
Weapons/Abilities: Anne has the power to change her last name by pulling an ID card out of her wallet. Changing her name in this way will grant her one or more abilities based on the resulting pun.

Examples include:
-Anne Orexic - Ability to become dangerously skinny.
-Anne Tidote - Ability to cleanse poisons.
-Anne Tarctic - Ability to create snow.
-Anne Ellid - Ability to communicate with worms.

Unfortunately, Anne's wallet is no longer very organized, due to the accidental use of the Anne Agram ID card followed by the rest of the cards falling out. As such, while she can find a specific card if she has enough time to sort out the confusing names that mark them now, in the heat of battle she has to just take what she can get.

Description: Anne's appearance and personality tend to vary somewhat based on her current last name, but there are some things that are constant across most appearances.

She has shoulder-length brown hair, and wears a large blue ribbon in it. Her outfits tend towards various shades of pink shirts and blue jeans, unless her current name involves a radical alteration.

Radical alterations include Anne Immal, who is near-feral; Anne Tagonist, who is extremely violent; and Anne Arkey, who will immediately attempt to destroy any nearby authority structure. There may be others.

Biography: Anne was raised as Anne Tagonist, and had an immense and irrational hatred of her brother Pro. In actuality, however, she had been adopted by the Tagonist family as part of a scheme by the Evil Empire (headed by Emperor Evil). When she grew old enough, they used her hatred of her adopted brother to recruit her into the army, where her brutal tactics made her a valuable asset.

Then Pro found out about her abilities and her real name (Anne Ticlimax) and she joined up with him. Along the way, she acquired numerous ID cards, which she used to change her last name in order to gain new abilities.

Then one day, she was testing out the Anne Agram ID card, and accidentally dropped her wallet with all the other cards in it. They fell out, and she scrambled all the names on them putting them back in.

She was going to organize the wallet, but before she could, she disappeared and was pulled into a battle...

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Solaris - 07-11-2011

Username: Sollie
Name: Ryan Simfitch
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Colour: This Green, #008000
Biography: Ryan Simfitch is man in his 30's, born and raised in the Boston area, he's spent his life happy and generally normal. Graduating near the top of the class, and happily accepting the "Best Dressed" award for his year, Ryan is more a stickler for fashion than a scholar. That isn't to say he doesn't like conversations about either. After, he joined the Air Force, signing on for an IT position there. Upon his return, he found love and was married. He then got a nice and steady job in his Hometown. In his free time, he met some artistic friends on an unimportant Internet Forum. After one of these friends greatly grew in popularity, he was called in to help with various IT issues and he became an Administrator in those forums.
Description: Ryan is a man in his 30's with Brown hair and a nice clean face. He is a stickler for fashion and is very rarely found not wearing a suit. The man himself is serious and business like, perhaps a tad much, but under that is a very nice man who only wishes for the best for his friends.
Items/Abilities: Luckily, at the time of abduction, Ryan was in the middle of a fun and happy meet-up with various users of the forum he administrated in. As a result, he is in an outdoors suit. In addition, he currently has a Clever Disguise in the form of a Novelty Fake Glasses and Mustache. Currently unbeknownst to him, he also has an enchanted stuffed rabbit armed with four powerful weapons, but tiny weapons, a spear, nun-chucks, a yo-yo, and a crossbow. His name is Verd and he was passed along by various members of the forum. The only other thing he has with him are his IT knowledge and some basic Air Force Training.

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Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Pinary - 07-24-2011

Username: Pinary
Name: Chuck Feldstein
Gender: Male
Race: Hubert B. Manguyperson
Colour: #804020
Biography: Chuck Feldstein, 46, is the owner of Daily Fresh Groceries, a small grocery store in Creek Brook, Michigan. They stock quality local and imported goods, and they beat their large, corporate competition with a heavy emphasis on locally-focused advertisements. These ads all feature Chuck providing quality local and imported goods to local people who are in need of quality local and imported goods.

For example:

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Description: Chuck is about 5'8", noticeably overweight, and a bit balding. He's never seen outside of his trademark white polo, blue jeans, and green apron, and his face seems to have his typical friendly, neighbourly smile etched unerringly into its surface.

Items/Abilities: Whenever someone expresses a need for quality local or imported goods (whether it's in those precise words or not), Chuck is instantly teleported to their location, and a display featuring something relevant to their needs appears next to him. Whenever he leaves, people invariably say that "That's just what I needed!"

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Ixcaliber - 07-29-2011

Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Aranina
Gender: None
Race: Wardrobe
Colour: #0000FF
Description: Aranina is in appearances a normal wardrobe. It is tall, made of mahogany and has pictures of a strange and far away land carved into it.

On the surface there does not appear to be anything unusual about it. It does not have the ability to move or speak or directly interact with the other contestants. However upon opening the doors you might find that it is much deeper than you had any right to expect. A particularly curious person might climb into the wardrobe and push their way past the old musty items of clothing hanging therein, eventually finding that the floor starts to crunch underneath their feet and that the clothes they are brushing out of the way are replaced with bristly branches.

If they kept going they would emerge from the trees to find themselves on the outskirts of a Victorian era town populated by all kinds of fantasy creatures with steampunk machinery. In the distance a macabre castle looming over the snow covered land.

This is Aranina proper. A grim land ruled by a wicked queen with a penchant for turning her victims into ice sculptures. One day a hero might rise and free the land from her grip and end its eternal winter, but that is neither here nor there.

Aranina is not a gateway to a distant land, it is a magical kingdom contained in a wardrobe that is vastly bigger on the inside that it is on the outside.

Items/Abilities: But do not be fooled, Aranina is not a passive combatant. It has a mind and a way to interact with anyone who might intend to cause it harm. You see though it generally lets its inhabitants get on with their lives it can at any point seize the mind of any native Araninan and use them for its own purposes. This ability extends to any living creature born of Aranina.

Biography: Aranina is a construction of a being known as The Carpenter. It was an early experiment on making a pocket dimension of his very own and he figured one day he would probably use it as a round in one of his very own Grand Battles. It went missing before he had the opportunity.

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - TimeothyHour - 07-30-2011

Username: TimeothyHour

Name: Molniya

Gender: Female

Race: Robotically enhanced dog, a mutt.

Colour: FOR THE MOTHERLAND (#FFFF00 on red)

Weapons: Permanently back-mounted laser-cannon, which fused with the nervous system at the spine (the bone is augmented so that the load doesnât eventually crush Molinya; in fact, the weapon feels so natural that she doesnât know its not one of her limbs.) She can also bite and scratch with augmented teeth and claws with enough power to rip through a tankâs exterior. Molinya is also has the weapon of her DOG SLASH COMMUNIST CHARM.

Abilities: All of the normal abilities of a dog (enhanced running, jumping, smell), but amplified several times. Molinya can run faster than most cars, and jump up to about 30 feet. She can also fire a gigantic laser from her back and be really cute. And she even subscribes to a communist ideology. (It is important to note, however, that Molinya isnât sentient. Still a communist, though.)

Description: A fairly big and pretty dog, Molinya has a stylish grey coat and cute hazel eyes that are complimented by the yellow sickle and hammer accents on the otherwise red laser cannon mounted on her back. Her teeth and claws shine from her augmentation, and sheâs the model of fitness, big and strong and all around pretty awesome.

She has the personality of a really playful dog, and was in the middle of being trained on how to actually control her laser cannon when she taken, so she will probably end up randomly using it. A lot.

Also, she likes communism. It makes her happy.

Biography: WOOF WOOF LAZARRRRRRRRRRR

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - AKillerCuppaTea - 08-18-2011

Username: A Killer Cuppa Tea (but most people call me Tea)

Name: Experiment x1593U8 (Also Known As Eppon)

Gender: Male

Race: Scientific Experiment (based on human)

Colour: [color="#007500"]color="#007500"[/COLOR]

Biography: Experiment x1589U8 was authorised by the New Earthen Republic, a new political organisation that managed to spread through the entirety of the Planet Earth. Originally hailed as a New World Order designed to bring peace and prosperity throughout the world, this New Age way of thinking was, in fact, a way to oppress the people.

It took many years and decades before humanity came to realise just how much they were being oppressed. Scientific, economic and cultural progress had been stifled for years. Funds had instead been siphoned to a comparative minority of people who lived a life of luxury whilst the rest of humanity toiled day in day out, just to get by.

The change in their lives had been gradual, but slowly but surely, the entire race had become an army of slaves. Education was now almost non-existent. Leisure time was unheard of. Reading about history was banned, and ignorance was common throughout the land.

But then, little stirrings began to occur: little pockets of unrest â quickly put down by âthe authoritiesâ, but never forgotten; small cells committed to freeing the human race. At first, these were naught more than a nuisance: unorganised gangs making petty threats and attacking unimportant targets...but slowly but surely, these cells began to contact each other and merge; organisation became more commonplace and the word of them spread.

Almost as though in denial, those in power turned a blind eye too long. Suddenly, it seemed that the entirety of the human race was against them. Even once loyal soldiers dedicated to their wellbeing were becoming restless and betraying them. Seeking a solution, these few people turned to the sciences to help preserve their way of life.

Many things were invented, and many experiments carried out. Before long, it became an all out war: the uneducated, under-equipped masses with the heart and resolve to see their long-due victory, and the evil, the powerful, the few who fought with desperation to retain the way of life they had come to love.

Experiment x1593U8 was one of their most evil projects. A baby born in a test tube, its DNA altered and its brain washed, it was designed to me the most loyal of soldiers. Designed by a mad scientist â who came to love the project, as a piece of engineering genius, rather than a living, breathing human being â to be unfailingly loyal to those who had commissioned it, to have an insatiable urge to kill those who did not fit into this category, and the physical means with which to do so, the prototype was also designed not to have the mental acumen to truly think for itself.

This prototype â based off a male human child â will enter the battlefield as a newly born baby. Wrested from its mechanical womb, and thrust straight into the world of battle it was bred for, it is still just a little too soon. Although its DNA structure is designed for it to grow to full size in much less time than a normal human, x1593U8 will still start the battle essentially defenceless â but will grow more and more powerful with each second that goes by.

The name Eppon comes from the only word the child knows how to speak â âWeaponâ â the only word that was cooed to it as it grew.

Description: Male baby, bright brown eyes, black hair, projected to grow into a largely built human being within a few short days or hours.

Items/Abilities: Currently none, but in a few short hours he will be a strongly built young man, and not long after that he will begin to mutate into something not quite human. Generally, his mental strength is almost definitely not his strong point, and he is likely to be rather naive and innocent, if prone to extreme violence. He is programmed to have a large capacity to learn, and in particular, be instinctively able to use most forms of weaponry as well as be proficient in hand to hand combat and pick up quickly on warfare and strategy. All this will all be instinctual, however: whilst he will likely be a bright child, ânormalâ knowledge such as etiquette, manners and even language will likely not come easily to him. As he is effectively âstill a childâ he will likely be easily manipulated, too. Eventually he will begin to mutate and become less and less human. His mutations are likely to be relative to his current situation.

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Solaris - 09-18-2011

Name: Lady Rajilla Calimar Madro
Gender: Female
Race: Squid Mage
Color: Pinku @^@, #D583B4
Items/Abilities: MAGIC. A LOT OF IT. Lady Rajilla has trained for many years in the various magical arts in her underwater home. Her specialties are water, ice, and wind magic. As she is a sort of tentacle underwater being, she is not above using electricity underwater, as it would not hurt her. In addition to her extensive selection of magical spells, she has her powerful tentacles that can extend and wrap around any who wish her harm. She is intelligent, but not conniving, and is more likely to use brute force than anything else. On her person she has lot's of tentacles, a crown and other jewelry, a few sea herbs, lesser fish, and her crystal ball. She is also a mother of one and has all of the motherly powers that come with it.
Description: She is a somewhat large, a bit around 5 feet tall squidish animal. She has a central area surrounded by a large amount of her squishy squid-jelly. From the bottom, she has a bunch of tentacles. She can't express well because she doesn't really have a mouth, eating by taking things in her tentacles and drawing them inside of her to dissolve into energy. The aforementioned center has a singular eye that can see in one direction, which is why she constantly has a magical field around her to detect intrusions. This is also what allows her to go above water without difficulty.
She is a mother and as such is level headed. Most of the time. In a fight, she is quick to act and more likely to blow as much shit up as possible than plan anything. She is direct in her actions and if she has a problem with you she will be in yo face about it. She cares for her daughter's safety more than anything else and if separated she will start to get antsy.
Because she cannot see well above water, it is perfectly likely in her mind that her daughter could be around somewhere in the various rounds. She is likely to leave any allies in the dust if it means getting to her daughter or what she thinks could be her daughter.
Biography: If you asked her when her life truly began, Raji Madro, would say, "When my daughter was brought into my life." Depending on why you asked she would proceed to punch you in the face or tell you to "Get the hell out of my house you inquisitive whale waste!" After years and years in the service of the Order of Magical Creatures, Rajilla Calimar Madro, Lady of the Highest Coalition, and student of the one and only Sir Eli Guilio, Master Mage of the East Sea, retired.

After leaving the Order to raise her daughter, Rajilla had as calm a life as she could. She was "lucky" enough to be kept in practice by the occasional idiot who thought ambushing her would be a good idea, but for the most part she used mundane spells and just protected and taught her daughter. She lived a nice life free of "Shit head magical gods goin around and tangling with me," until she was taken away, without her daughter, meaning that someone was going to pay.

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Ixcaliber - 09-20-2011

Biography: Jack was once a good and holy paladin. He fought evil in all its forms and he became quite renowned for it. Though he would not hesitate to kill if necessary he preferred to capture his targets alive, and bring them back to face justice. He had many adventures, and in the course of those adventures he made many enemies. None of which would have such an influence on his life as the bandit lord Bloodscar.

When Jack killed Bloodscar he had no idea the events that he was setting into motion. Bloodscarâs minions were many, and they were merciless. Enraged over the death of their leader they hunted down and killed Jackâs family. In the battle a lucky blow from the bandits cost Jack his right arm and his left hand. He lay there in agony, forced to watch as the bandits mercilessly slaughtered his parents, his beloved wife and his children.

Something snapped inside him that day. He turned from the light and the pursuit of justice. All he wanted now was revenge against the rogues that had done this to him, to watch them suffer and die the way they had mercilessly cut down the people he loved. He didnât care what he had to do to make this happen. He would have made a deal with the very devil himself if it served him up the vile rogues to slice and dice and make suffer.

He met with one of his former enemies, the dark wizard Murdoc. In exchange for his freedom, something which the respected paladin could easily secure, Murdoc created for him an enchanted pauldron. The pauldron channels his energy to create a working replica of the arm he lost. Jack tried to build a mechanical hand to replace the one he lost, but the result was a mangled mess of sharp points. Some part of him preferred it.

Ever since then he has searched for the bandits that did this to him, going from town to town. His information is dubious at best and his methods despicable. He will not stop. This need for revenge is all that keeps him going.

Username: Mjilner
Name: Jack Rook
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Colour: #800000
Description: Jack is tall with short black hair, blue eyes and a wild-looking beard, though these features are normally hidden behind his helmet. He still wears his paladin armour, though now it is almost perpetually stained with blood.
He does not have much in the way of patience any more, he will attack anyone who gets in his way, and torture anybody who he believes knows where to find the bandits that killed his family. His speech is curt and his attitude very bad.
Items/Abilities: In addition to being a skilled swordsman, Jack retains some measure of his paladin abilities; now corrupted by the darkness in his heart. As such he can to a certain extent control shadows.

He also has pop-tarts because just because you are evil doesnât mean you stop liking pop-tarts.

Re: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Rivenforge - 10-09-2011

Name: Ricky
Race: Clay bomb humanoid
Gender: Male

Description: Ricky wears nothing but a cloak, but his legs resemble something akin to trousers. His skin is blothy and inhuman looking. He is bald and very, very gaunt. His face and torso look slightly brown compared to the rest of his body.
He is very reserved and respectful, usually without meaning to be. He used to be a slave and has yet to adapt to his new freedom, still calling anyone he meets "Sir".

Backstory: Ricky was a test subject slash slave to an Alchemist from London. The final test his master ever constructed involved both of them dying in a horrible explosion. However, a new life emerged in the form of Ricky, only made out of malleable, and highly volatile, explosive clay.

Weapons/Abilities: He can change which type of explosive his body can be made out of, and has a stock of compounds and fuses in a satchel. He can "dud" his entire body at a moments notice or remove any part of his body he wishes. He creates new clay by eating any nearby resource and breaking it down into compounds, his other organs then purify the clay, but he leaves puddles of weakly explosive sludge everywhere he goes.

RE: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Pick Yer Poison - 04-07-2012

For the Malkygrand. WOFF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

Questions:

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Name: Fish
Gender: Female
Font color:
Race: Flying Purple Purple Eater
Weapons/Abilities: Fish can eat purple, as well as fly. She can also breathe red and blue onto anything in the environment, at the expense of her internal reserve of purple.

Fish is currently carrying her Bag of Collecting. It can hold an infinite number of items, but only if they've all got a feature in common. It's currently got a whole lot of opals in it, which sort of limits what she can store in it, since she doesn't particularly want to get rid of them.

Description: Fish is vegetable in the shape of a duck. It's not clear what kind, but she looks a little like a warped eggplant, albeit with even more of an overall purplish tinge.

Fish is colorblind due to a purple accident in her past, which she has never elaborated on, claiming it to be very traumatic. She enjoys video games and collecting opals, and talks like a snake due to her dubious parentage. It comes from her mother's side.

Biography: Fish comes from a far away land, where animal-shaped vegetables roam freely and pursue various seemingly-random objects for unknown reasons. She was given her Bag of Collecting when she came of age in order to collect her arbitrary items, which the ceremony held immediately after revealed to be opals. No particularly big deal was made out of this. At some later date she vanished.

RE: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Dragon Fogel - 04-07-2012

For the MalkyGrand.

Questions:

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Username: Dragon Fogel
Name: Gummelda
Race: Candy Duck
Gender: Female
Text Color: #FF00AA
Biography: Once upon a time, there was a lonely candymaker named Timtom. Timtom wanted to find love, but no woman took interest in him.
Finally, he decided to use his knowledge to make the perfect wife... out of candy.
Gummelda was the result. Unfortunately, she could never truly love Timtom; she could only mimic emotions. Still, they tried to live together as best as they could; he continued his work as a candy maker, while she became an indie sensation with her cittern and cimbasso skills in the band Lament Medicine.
But like all good things, this came to an end when the Laser Mafia went after Timtom for protection money. He couldn't pay their asking price, and called to Gummelda for help as they dragged him away.
Gummelda trailed the attackers to their hideout, and tried to rescue Timtom, but the battle didn't go well. One of the hitmen grabbed a Doom Spatula they had taken as payment from a mad scientist and jammed it in her eye, rendering her blind to everything except candy.
With no other choice, she begged the Laser Mafia to let Timtom go free. The Don looked at the damage she had done, and smiled. He agreed to free Timtom if she would work for them. Gummelda agreed.
She was equipped with a series of lasers, which she concealed in her candy body. There was also an invisibility device in there, because the Laser Mafia wasn't very good at keeping track of things that weren't lasers.
And so, her life of crime began... but it was cut short soon after, when she suddenly disappeared.
Description: Gummelda is a duck made out of gummy candy. She wears a dress and apron, and has a spatula sticking out of her left eye. Closer inspection of the spatula reveals the word "DOOM" written on it in large red letters. If you were to look closely inside the gummy candy, you would see a wide assortment of laser weaponry. She also carries her cittern and cimbasso in there.
Gummelda can only mimic the emotions of those she sees; she doesn't truly understand them. However, she has a compulsion to hoard string, and there is quite a bit of it in her apron pocket.
Gummelda can talk, but ever since acquiring her lasers, she prefers to use those for communication. She also has a tendency to nibble at herself. In addition, she likes going on daring adventures and playing video games - although she's not very good at them unless the screen and the controller are made of candy.
Abilities: Gummelda is blind to anything other than candy; she can see candy with perfectly fine depth perception. She also excretes a candy trail behind her wherever she goes; this means she can see where she's been, but not where she hasn't been.
The Doom Spatula in her left eye is a doomsday weapon - it has been lodged into her candy brain and consequently it will activate, serving everyone it can find sunny-side up, if she sees a skillet. However, unless the skillet is made of candy, this isn't much of a risk. There is also a laser which fires out of the spatula's handle.
Gummelda is skilled at playing the cittern and cimbasso, has a large quantity of string at her disposal, and lasers. She also has an invisibility device, but she can't tell the difference between it and a laser, so it tends to activate at random times.
Gummelda needs to move often or she may solidify. The best way to avoid this is by partying, so she tends to party all the time.
Gummelda also has synesthesia, causing her to percieve the sounds of laser blasts as different kinds of candy.

RE: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Ixcaliber - 04-07-2012

MALKYGRAND

Questions:

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Username: Ixcalitop
Name: Cactaceae al Sada (deceased), some ducks (nonsentient) and Lanmò (intangible)
Gender: Male
Race: Cactus Owl, ducks
Colour: #245507
Description: Cactaceae, or Cacta for short, is a burly barrel chested cactus owl; a strange hybrid of both a cactus and an owl. He has the shape of an owl while the physiology of a cactus. His skin was hard green bark with protruding spines, though that hardiness and that texture is now long gone. He is now slowly rotting, his hard bark now cracked here and there, pale sap is congealed around these areas. His hooked beak is surrounded by a thick beard of cactus spines. His eyes that were once a pale orange are now mismatched. The one that is still there is blood red through and through, the other one is a glass eye with an emerald centre. A dark blue, almost indigo flower that bloomed upon his forehead is now wilted, clearly dead. Overall he gives the impression of being unwell, sickly or perhaps a better description would be deathly. His gait is slow, waddly, and he jingles when he walks; a result of a large number of quarters moving around inside his husk of a body.

From a distance it would appear that his wings have been tarred and feathered perhaps. Up closer it is possible to see that this white downy covering is actually a patchwork of minature ducks. They are not sentient and not really alive in the same sense as you or I would understand it. They move of their own volition, mostly slight movements, or the movement of individual ducks wings, but can sometimes just flap around of their own accord heedless of whatever Cacta might think about this. Due to the fact that he has no control over his main limbs, all tasks must be completed with his beak alone. If this proves to be tricky his only means of recourse is to use his talons to get a better grip on whatever he is trying to operate.

Strapped to his back is Lanmò’s coffin. It is old and made of sturdy dark wood. It is very heavy, a fact which is evident just from looking at it. Its surface is carved with a face, a gaunt face with hollow staring eyes and this is surrounded by grim, gothic symbology that Cacta does not pretend to understand. It is longer and wider than Cacta and is probably the first thing you notice when you see him. Through the cracks it is possible to see a pale red glow, but only if you were to press your face right up against the coffin, a move you would likely regret.

Cacta is somewhat reserved. He has lived a long and varied life and there are many things he does not like to speak of. He was somewhat more forthcoming when he didn’t share his mind with a spirit of death, but not much more. His actions suggest that he’s a good person deep down. A lesser person might have caved to the temptation to murder and maim when faced with Lanmò’s influence, but Cacta remained resolute. He does not complain, or bemoan his lot in life. He just gets on with it and does what he has to do. He likes reggae and will sometimes play some using his funeral stuff, but probably not in the course of a battle to the death. A fact of life that he’s learnt to deal with is that sometimes, for reasons he cannot fathom, his wings will have what he dubs ‘duck frenzies’ and will thrash wildly around. He does not bemoan this either.

Items/Abilities: Strapped across one shoulder Cacta has a toolbet filled with carpentry tools that have been specially modified so as to be easily operable with his beak or talons. He has become quite proficient with them over the years; he has the rather unique ability to craft coffins in under ten seconds provided he has the necessary materials, and he can pretty much always find the necessary materials. Though whether this can be attributed to his own skill or to the influence of the spirit who rides with him is hard to say. The coffins he makes tend to be of two different qualities. Either decorative coffins which are of good quality are solid and sturdy, or alternately there are coffins that Cacta thinks of as fodder. These coffins are functional at best and not pretty to look at. Practically there is little difference except Cacta wouldn’t dream of making a humorous funeral display with fodder coffins. But in the end both kinds of coffin are eventually fed into the larger coffin that fits upon his back. Space does not seem to be a concern in there, and at this point it has a not unreasonable amount of coffins stored within. If Cacta finds himself under attack the coffin on his back can serve as a cannon. It shoots forth magically infused coffins, which burst open upon impact and release a zombified corpse from within. If you want to be technical, these zombies fall under the control of lanmò, but the influence that it and Cacta have on one another mean it is more typically about 50/50.

It is worth noting that he once swallowed, and can if given a couple of goes regurgitate, the coin of Hulter; the god of colour. The coin’s only ability is to change the colour of objects, with the rather unusual side-effect that it gives him an overpowering urge to lick purple things. He keeps it around only because it is one of those objects that seems to cling to their perceived owners and keeping it with him is easier than trying to get rid of it. Also of note: his glass eye allows him to see justice.

Biography: Little is known about Cacta from before he crossed the border to Sawte. That was back before he got the coffin, or even before the gelato incident, though he still had those duck wings growing up his arms. If you can find it in yourself to ask him about them he might tell you he had them from birth; that his father was a duck and this was what he got for it. Then again ask him on another night and he might tell you that they’re a result of exposure to mutation goo. Cacta never really was one for telling the truth about his past. A couple of weeks after he passed through the small village on the border of Sawte a lawman came through, asking about a murderer; a cactus owl, one that you wouldn’t be likely to forget in a hurry, one crippled with ducks instead of wings. Everybody remembered Cacta but nobody told that lawman nothing. People aren’t like that in Sawte. People gotta look out for one another in this unkind world.

The gelato incident? Well yeah I can explain that one to you. See he arrived in Shattered Creek and he was pretty down on his luck, the deserts hadn’t been kind to old Cacta. He needed a job and the only job in town was one that nobody really wanted; test subject at the old alchemists’. To say it didn’t turn out well, well in one sense you’d be accurate. Ever since Cacta has had a nasty habit of swallowing every quarter he happened to stumble across, most of the times with a look of weary acceptance on his face. Ate so many damn quarters he can’t walk properly any more. But on the other hand most of the people who tried Old Rattan’s concoctions ended up six feet under with generous pay for a day’s work well done going to their nearest and dearest. What I’m saying is that broadly speaking Cacta didn’t do too bad. Hell he’s probably worth a small fortune nowadays.

Cacta, well, it seemed he had a certain type of luck when it came to enchanted objects. They seemed to seek him out for one reason or another. He swallowed Hulder’s quarter, of course that one was inevitable. When his eye got shot out by a trigger happy bandit called Brasslin, he somehow ended up with Retfærdighed’s glass eye, lets him see justice itself they say. He sure saw that Brasslin saw justice for what he did. An eye for an eye. That’s some good old fashioned justice right there. Then of course, there’s Lanmò’s coffin. He don’t carry that thing around for fun. That thing’s got a mind of it’s own and it’s got a grip on him. Last I saw him, he looked like he ought to have been dead and I think that’s what he should’ve been, but for that spirit of death riding him around like a damn horse. He don’t come round to the towns much any more. Only when there’s been a death. Sometimes when there’s about to be a death. He’ll be there, ready and waiting with a long face, that fire burning in his good eye, and a freshly carved coffin, just waiting.

Ain’t seen him in a while. I hope he’s okay out there in those wastes. He may be a walkin’ corpse with a predilection for eating money and a past so chequered it could start races, but he was one of the good ones once, and the desert can be hard on a man.

RE: Mini-Grand Organization Thread - Pharmacy - 04-07-2012

Username: Pharmacy

Name: Selavy "Lillith" Rrose (and Company)

Gender: TRAPPED IN A MASCULINE SHELL BY SOCIETY (and Various)

Race: Duck (plus More)

Colour: "Your uneducated mind will never understand this beautiful color combination" [#fff9a9 on #ff0f3f]

Biography: Selavy was born in the city of Hobbyhorse to a tomato mother (a vegetarian and an accomplished cook) and an taxidermized mustache father (a writer who enjoys a good pipe on his plaque). Despite his unusual heritage, Selavy had a fairly normal upbringing like all young lads in his neighborhood: going to school, indulging in absurdity, and of course, playing with his many, wonderful siblings.

Eventually, he decided on a career of sculpturing - an incredibly respected field of profession in this odd world. His parents were incredibly supportive of his decision and eventually he was of age to go the academy. There he learned arts from masters and eventually like all other lads, fell in love with a Portensia - a beautiful scarf made of wonderful cotton and flawless spider-silk tassels. Even they planned to settle down and start a family in the rolling waves of the sea.

If only.

Alas, the continent in which he lived in was suddenly invaded by force in the form of the long time orderlies. They came, plated in unsettling white and daunting equilibrium. One by one, they caught as many denizens as they could, secluding them away in squeak-clean facilities and pure logic. Unfortunately, Selavy was one of those people. Like the imprisoned others, he was at the sadistic mercy of the orderlies. He was poked, prodded, cut opened, sewed back on, perhaps

experimented on.

It has been a while since he escaped from the clutches of the orderlies. Unforunately, the world he knew has changed, into proofs and theorems and rules. There he goes, malnourished in body, demented in mind. From the debris of his overlords, he steals away garbage, hoarding them in his precious and smelly clutch as he hide from the authorities. There he continued his listless path until while on another chase

he disappeared.

Description: Selavy is an vaguely anthropomorphic avian with two scaly webbed feet and two winged arms (WITH ARTISTIC OPPOSABLE THUMBS so he claims). What type of duck he is, no one (even Selavy) knows. However, his appearance reminiscent of the noble species Aix galericulata, albeit in a violent bichrome of judgment yellow and apocalypse pink. If one were to squint at the glory that is Selavy's saturated appearance, they could see a pair of pince-nez glasses frames (sans lenses) delicately tipped on his bill and for some reason, duct tape wrapped tightly around his head. He also smells strongly of garbage.

Alas, poor Selavy. He is a man - er, duck of belligerent hubris as he delusionally sees the world as a violent satire - with he as the centre(WHICH IS THE ONLY RIGHT WAY OF SPELLING MIND YOU) of the play. Religiously fastened to this ridiculous belief (along with a personal mantra that the answer to universe is "babies"), Selavy tends to act as though he is in a play; although his talking is essentially comical screaming, flanged with smoldering anger and garbled with obtuse vocabulary.

Despite this astounding arrogance, Selavy is not mentally sound. His long-time neuroses granting him a fairly inclusive list of dadaist superstitions, which range from the merely strange (his tendency to spout pop culture lyrics) to the truly absurd (eating yoyos will grant him inspiration and "yoyo headbutts"). Selavy's actions tends towards the strange and absurd (for instance, he swam in a pool full of spaghetti; he fondly regards the experience). You could say, his mind is weak - as he is highly irritable (one time he caused a barfight at the slight tap of a glockenspiel and some fat jokes) but easily cowed (he is scared of stormdrains...and yogurt).

Most intriguing of all, Selavy is utterly fascinated with the concept of death. Assassinations, serial murders, poisons, corpses - his wretched heart flutters at the notion of the end. Selavy is obsessive enough to consider the concept of pursuing such a death-inducing act. That's right. One of his major goals in his life is to kill a person in cold blood. Unfortunately, this pursuit of thanatophilia is hilariously curbed by the fact that his mental capacities are too addled to fully understand the concept of death.

Items/Abilities: Selavy is a compulsive (but a horrible) liar and has padded his accomplishments with made-up ones like "power of rock," "control over all postal systems", "having a full license to a tiny submarine" and so forth. Honestly this is a shame considering Selavy is truly eclectic in the skills department. He is fairly good at math, a killer (har har) on the timpani. However, his most admirable talent is the visual art of sculpture. His artistry is amazing and eye-pleasing - although he has the irritating tendency to name his creations "Portensia" and attempt to take "her" out on dates (which never ends well).

If you are wondering why Selavy is smells like shit, it is because like his addiction to lying, he compulsive hoard trash of all kinds - plastic wraps, butter tubs, banana peels, and the occassional ill-gotten postal package. When you carry around essentially a miniature landfill all Santa Claus-like on your back, your smell tends to lean towards "flagrantly unpleasant." He recycles this debris into beautiful sculptures of Portensias - which he has a tendency to build wherever the hell he likes. He would like to spend all his time building Portensias. Unfortunately, he has two problems. One is means of sustenance - which is easily remedied by smoothies (which are cheap, by the way).

The second is a bit darker.

Rrose suffers from what you may call "a haunting." He calls this "multiple body disorder" and for very good reason - it makes him feel disembodied, floating, like many. Unfortunately for this feathered wastrel, Selavy shares his body with his siblings - all very, very young - and very, very many. Long shedded their corpses a while ago, their metaphysical essence fills the poor duck's mind in the shape of probability-controlling octopodes. In their incorporeal forms, their power over him is strong (along with their obsession with Pocket Monster Cards). Their spiritual tentacles hindering his hippocampus, cutting his cerebrum, siphoning his subconscious -

No wonder Selavy acts like this.