SpoilerThis is Petty Squabble, the fourth battle of the third season of "canon" Grand Battles.


:: So… what… the hell… is this?

Okay, yeah. I should probably start at the beginning.

Petty Squabble is a Grand Battle. Someone said it better than I could:

Akumu Wrote:The gist [of a Grand Battle] is that eight people come up with interesting characters and then write about them interacting and they die off one at a time based on who is the worst or most inactive writer.

:: Woah wait hold up what’s this about dying

Yup! This is an eight-man battle to the death. You will probably die!


:: But I don’t want to die!

Well then you’re gonna hafta write well.


:: …Write? I thought we were fighting.

Despite their trappings as slaughterfests, Grand Battles are all about story and character development. Each round, the contestants are put in some bizarre locale and muddle along until an arbitrary point at which the round’s end is announced. I’ll solicit opinions as to who ought to be offed, and once I’ve made up my mind, someone (usually the to-be-deceased) will send up a deathpost and the game will move on to the next round.


:: How do you decide who’s going to die?

Contestants are eliminated based on how well (or how poorly) they write. Judging writing quality is not always the easiest of jobs, so I may ask for others' opinions at that time. Frequently, though, players are eliminated for not writing anything. At all. Really ruins it for everyone. Don’t feel bad if you want to forfeit, though! Life intervenes, or it stops being fun, or whatever; I understand! But don’t just drop off the face of the round if you can help it.


:: So, I can’t just kill other players?

Killing other players before the end of the round is strictly forbidden. Hell, doing anything that would seriously impair another character without the permission of that character’s author (chopping off their limbs, destroying their weapon, etc.) is Not Cool. If everyone could just kill everyone else, then the game would be short and boring. This is not a combat-oriented thing. This is a story-oriented thing. I cannot say that enough.


:: Must take a while to get going, if you have to wait on everyone to advance the plot.

Ah, but that’s one of the great things about Grand Battles! Unlike in traditional roleplays, you can write what other characters are doing, so long as it makes sense. I’ve seen posts where an author barely even mentions their own character, but does a bunch of stuff with the other characters. Hell, one time an inactive player was carried through, like, two rounds on others’ writing alone! …Then they died. But that’s not the point.


:: That's cool and all, but what if someone puts up a post before me that ruins all my plans?

Never fear! Just post a... post containing RESERVE or some clever variant thereof and you'll have four hours in which no one else is allowed to post. Beyond those four hours, though, it's fair game again.


:: Four hours? That's not really much time.

Well, it's not really Four Hours as much as it is "four hours." Most people understand that writing takes time, and are willing to be lenient. Frequently those four hours will extend into four days, or (if you're in round three) four weeks. Bear in mind that these "extended reserves" are a gentleman's agreement, i.e. if you've gone well over four hours and someone wants to post, you'd better bet they're going to post. Best to be certain you can finish your post within the reserve limit.


:: Oh, I see how this works. One guy reserves, and then another guy, and then another guy-

Lemme just cut you off right there. Consecutive reserves are not allowed. Nobody like waiting indefinitely for posts which may or may not come. The only time concurrent reserve posts should appear is if the earlier ones are void. Nor can the same person try to cheat the system and repeatedly reserve multiple times in a row. That's just being mean.


:: Right, okay. So what’s this about rounds?

The game is divided into rounds, which have two basic criteria: Each round must end with the death of at least one player, and each round must take place somewhere new. There will be seven rounds, barring any multiple-eliminations. The description of each round will be pretty vague, so be creative!


:: Anything else I should know?

Talk to the other players. You want a coherent plot? You want this to be interesting? You damn well better talk to the other players. Ask what their plans for their character and the environment are, and work together to make this interesting. You don’t have to have everything approved by committee, of course, but lone-wolfing it tends to present problems here and there. I strongly recommend using the Grand Battle IRC channel, #grandbattle on Esper.net. Failing that, you could always PM people via the forums.

Oh! I would also suggest reading some of the other battles so you have an idea of what you're getting into.

:: Okay, fine. I guess I’ll try this thing. Where do I sign up?

The character sheet can be found at the bottom of this post. Signups will be open about a week to give entrants time to work on a character. While newcomers to the Grand Battle scene are always welcome, I will be picky with my selections. Only eight players will make it in, so make your profile good.


:: I might not make it in?! What do I do with this guy I made, then?

Never fear! Grand Battles are A Big Thing around these parts. If you aren’t selected for Petty Squabble and don’t want your character to go to waste, you’ll have four more battles this season to try for – though there is a three-battle limit per author this season. But there are five more seasons with eight battles each planned after that. Oh, and “non-canon” battles spring up from time to time. Basically there are a lot of these okay.

SpoilerThis… might not be the thing for you, then. Nevertheless, here’s a condensed list of guidelines.

• Writing is God. Grand Battles are, first and foremost, about writing a good story. If you can write well, you’ll go far. This rule sometimes overrides other rules.
• This is still part of the MSPA Forum, so all the rules of the forum still apply.
• No godmoding. No doing things to other people’s characters that they don’t want you to. No killing other players until the end of the round.
• You can write for characters that are not your own, so long as it makes sense in context.
• Work together with other players. This is, again, a story, and if other people don’t know what you have planned, events may seem disconnected and random. Make something you’d want to read, and would want others to read.
• Relatedly, ask questions if you don’t understand something about the story or rules. Preferably via PM or IRC.
• If you don't want others ruining your plans, place a reserve and you'll have four(ish) hours to put up a post.
• Don’t forget to have fun! This is not a serious, intense competition. This is a bunch of friends getting together to write a story. So enjoy yourself!
• Visit the Grand Battle IRC at #grandbattle on Esper.net and the Grand Battle Introduction/FAQ/Planning Thread for more information.

SpoilerYeah yeah fine whatever. Let’s get this show on the road!


Username: Sign here to die.

Name: You character’s name. Arguably the hardest part of filling out this form.

Gender: If it’s unusual, make a note of it.

Race: The Savage Brawl alone had: a human, another human, a demon, a cyborg, a cyborg lich, a fallen God of Death, another fallen God of Death, and a giant cancerous meatball. Yes, as in the food. Go nuts.

Color: For quickly telling authors and characters apart. Your color should be easily distinguishable from the other players’, but any serious problems can be sorted out after the eight have been picked. Green is reserved for my own use.

Equipment/Abilities: What your character has with them and what it can do/anything character can inherently do that isn’t reliant on a piece of equipment.

Description: A physical and mental description of your character. Important for helping other people get a feel for how to write them.

Biography: What your character did before they were plucked from their reality and entered into this thing. This is probably where you’ll convince me you’re good at writing, though if you’d rather this section be brief, I would appreciate some example of your literary prowess.

SpoilerAgent1022

Godbot

Malkytop

Not The Author

Pharmacy

Schazer

TimeothyHour

SpoilerFor centuries, John travelled through time, moving from one place and time to the next at will. Some places, he'd stay for just days; others, he'd stay for months or years. It depended solely on his whims- with the aid of his Temporal Energy Displacement Device, he could just punch in a few controls and end up on a whole other world in a whole other era. It was, for him, a paradise. It meant that he could see amazing new things, meet amazing new people. It meant that he could do a vast array of things, both with and to those amazing new people. It meant that if the authorities came too close to catching up to him, he could start anew somewhere else, free of any sort of criminal record.

Unfortunately for him (though not for a great many other people, truth be told), one set of authorities came rather closer than the rest- with the aid of EMP-based weaponry, they nearly captured him. He was forced into a jump with his TEDD damaged, and on arrival, he found himself stranded.

A random passerby informed him that he was in New York City. It was April 8th, 1920, John learned, and as he rifled through the man's possessions, taking for himself the man's assorted currency, he reflected on his situation. It wasn't a particularly dangerous place, it would seem- primitive, certainly, but that could be appealing. He'd once spent several weeks relaxing in a hut on an isolated hut in a planet's very early history, shooting down some of the first species capable of flight.

That, however, was a very different situation. Here, he quickly realized, he was stuck. With his TEDD broken, he was going to have to live a normal 1920's existence.

Two days after arrival, he was being dragged down to the police station for possession of alcohol, public drunkenness, and assaulting an officer. He didn't go quietly- he ranted the whole time about all the many wonders he'd seen over the years and how they had no right to take that, give it back, or he swore, he'd... do something. Yeah.

After another few weeks of drunken antics (which led him back to the station half a dozen times more), he eventually settled down a bit and started to apply himself to the problem. Yes, he was stuck on an archaic planet with a damaged time machine and no access to the tools used to build the device in the first place. Ultimately, though, tools could be built- any society that could develop a time machine had to start somewhere, and he figured that with his knowledge, he could go from industrial-era to decently-civilized in five or so years. With his goal in mind, he settled down, opened a small printing press maintenance shop to pay the bills, and started his work.

More than twenty years later, he was nearly done. He'd fixed all but one of the systems, and while it may have taken a bit longer than he'd planned, he was satisfied with the result.

Of course, that last system was rather important- the power supply. Normally, an artificially-stabilized micro-scale wormhole would generate the energy needed, but he couldn't jump-start one of those without a miles-wide particle accelerator, and his knowledge of this planet's history was sufficient enough to tell him that he wouldn't have access to one of those any time soon. It was September of 1943 when he finished the last of the other systems, and from then on, all of his spare time was dedicated to thinking of a solution.

By October, he'd got it, and he was on a boat within three days, bound for the Land of the Rising Sun. It didn't take him long to find an apartment that would suit his needs, and soon enough, he had signed a two-year contract for one in downtown Hiroshima.

When August of 1945 came around, he was ready- the walls of the apartment were lined with a sophisticated energy-collection grid, all tied directly into the TEDD. It wouldn't be enough to jump-start the wormhole, not by a long shot, but it would at least give him one jump. He'd set the coordinates for the closest thing he had to a home (a flashy space-going city that wouldn't exist for several hundred years), and he was ready.

At 8:15 AM on August 6th, the first atomic weapon wielded by man was dropped. Just less than a minute later, John's energy-collection grid harnessed the unleashed power of the atom and channelled it into the TEDD, sending it careening through time.

He didn't arrive aboard fabulous Las Orbitas, though- instead, he was in a small, electronics-lined room. A redirection chamber, he quickly realized, and the implications set him laughing. He'd made it more home than he could've ever gotten to on purpose- he was on the road again, flying by the seat of his pants and doing his best to survive.

Unfortunately, the competition he'd been stolen away to be entered into didn't hold his attention long, and he quickly tore apart some of the technology the competition's developer had left sitting around the maze John and his fellow competitors had been left in. The power core from a Camarian combat drone, when set to overload, provided enough power to jump-start the wormhole, and despite a last-minute scuffle and an unexpected tagalong (which he was soon rid of), he was free.

Actually, free might not be the best term. His next jump was redirected by a stray causal string (one of the things that would normally be diverted by the safety systems he hadn't bothered to repair just yet), and he ended up face-to-face with a rather annoyed interdimensional being. Rather than expressing his annoyance in a multitude of painful ways (a few of which he took the time to describe to John), he offered the time-traveller a deal- if John agreed to do a few jobs, then he'd repair John's TEDD and send him on his way. He'd even throw in a few treats- a suit wired as a communicator that could call across dimensions, a multi-tool specifically designed with John in mind, and something that was more of a treat for his employer than for John himself, the bone fragment in his chest. The being packed him up, started fiddling with the TEDD, and sent John on his way, and after a few moderately-entertaining tasks, he deemed John's work complete. With the flick of a switch, John was sent off on his way. The being, satisfied with the work, placed the repaired TEDD to one side and watched the time-traveller vanish without it.

SpoilerAspergillus dopliospium duplicates other creatures, as far as scientists can tell, like a retrovirus in reverse: it takes a DNA sample, "adds it" to the DNA already present in a cell, and replicates from there. The important thing to note is that Doplio can only copy intrinsic abilities. For example:
-- Copying someone with intrinsic magical ability would convey it. Copying someone who had to study to gain it would not.
-- Copying a zombie created through necromancy, nanites, etc. would result in a copy of the person's living form. Copying a zombie created through a virus or parasite would result in a copy of their zombified form.
-- Copying a martial artist could allow Doplio to replicate their musculature with a bit of effort, but would not grant it their techniques.
-- Copying, for example, Superman or Spider-Man would convey superpowers, given that they stem from their alien/mutant DNA. Copying, for example, Green Lantern would not, since his power comes from an outside source.
-- Copying non-organic creatures, e.g. robots and golems, is right out. Copying a cyborg or something similar would result in the form they would have without cybernetics.

SpoilerThe Myrddin was a small Demon Lord class family, which entitled them so some prosperity, strength and a castle. Rhett was the second child of the current head; the first was his older sister Ilea. He was never jealous of this fact, as he was much more interested in his hobbies than being a Lord. Of course, it took many years to force his parents into appreciating his interest in jobs. He had a love of working, something demons are known for not doing for very long. Eventually however he just stopped caring for his parents consent and left for the city to find a job. He returned about a week later wearing a waiting uniform, and even though he was covered in bruises he had a huge grin on his face. To where his ki powers came from, it started when she came back from a short vacation with some internal injuries. Rhett investigated in private, and it turned out that Ilea’s arm was sparking with static whenever she touched anything. Rhett got too close and had his arm jolted, the shock reaching all the way to his heart. Lucky to be alive, Ilea explained that a demon hunter had broken into their world to kill as many demons as he could, and Ilea happened to be nearby at the time. She took a lightning bolt to the chest, and has since has electricity emanating from her body. She managed to kill the human, which didn’t help them receive any answers. It wasn’t until Ilea felt that she was absorbing energy from the air several weeks later that they made a breakthrough. Their bodies where naturally absorbing any human ki they could find in the air. This, according to Ilea is about as plentiful in demon air as there is gold in their tap water. So, about a hundred years later, Ilea forces Rhett to quit yet another job (he never manages to keep them for very long for some reason) because she had another breakthrough. Apparently she had managed to collect enough to waste some to show Rhett how to use the power. Rhett however, had not gathered enough. While Ilea could absorb ki with her whole body, Rhett could only manage with his chest and right arm. He assumed it had been something to do with the initial contact with the lightning, and that it must have ripped open some ki channels, for lack of a better explanation. While Ilea managed to use her ability to shoot a large bolt of lightning and destroy a large boulder, Rhett wasn’t able to do much of anything. In anger he punched the trunk of a tree, which caused his hand to unleash its own bolt of energy and blow the tree to smithereens. They learned that while Ilea could use long range attacks, Rhett could only unleash his power when he was punching something. After a few hundred years, Rhett had full control of his abilities. He was filling out another application form in his room when he felt a presence behind him. Assassination attempts were common place in the demon world, most demons would rather be assassins than bodyguards. This person seemed different, however. When Rhett turned to meet them, he felt the slightest of breezes, and his instincts forced him to throw himself out of the way. His desk was obliterated and shards of wood were strewn across the room. The only thing he could see of his attacker was a blurry dark outline. His door burst open explosively, revealing his sister charging in with a longsword. Rhett had enough time to circle the shadowy intruder and make his way to his sister’s side. However, even together the intruder didn’t seem to take them seriously. His sister attacked skilfully with her blade, yet the assassin simply sidestepped each swing. A quick swing if their arm and Ilea was knocked back outside. Rhett ran towards her, and near half dragged her to the main hall. She was hurt internally. Whoever was fighting them, they weren’t a normal demon. They both decided that if they had to choose between dying and having their powers found out, they’d take the latter option. Rhett knew of a third option, going out with a bang, but kept it to himself.

“So, what’s the plan sis?”

“Get that bugger in between us, I blast a bolt straight through his chest, and you throw it right back into his spine.”

“…Can I even do that?”

“Maybe?”

Rhett laughed a little, even in this crazy situation. To their backs was a large mosaic window. From the front comes a sword wielding super-demon. Rhett had no other word for them. The black shadow that seemed to make up their body didn’t give off any energy that he had felt before. He doubted it even had a life. He and Ilea sidestepped in opposite directions, the suddenly burst into a sprint to get to opposite sides of the shadow being. The shadow picked a target: Rhett. He braced his legs as he saw Ilea launch the bolt of lightning. It pierced the shadow in the back, dark blotches spraying onto the floor from the wound. Rhett caught the blast in his right hand, and the energy forced its way into his body with an intense pain. The shadow turned, prioritising Ilea as a danger. Rhett took his chance with the shadow turned, and used the energy as a rebound. It wasn’t his own energy, so he simply rejected it. Even though he could not fire lightning, the bolt shot from his palm, striking the shadow once more, this time in the spine. The bolt didn’t leave, but circulated to its brain and fried everything in its path. The shadow unleashed a volley of smoke and a horrible burning smell. The room became hazy and the air thick. Rhett called out to his sister, but never got a reply. She was probably keeping quiet to remain hidden.

The noise of a sword being swung.
The sound of blade meeting flesh.
The horrible sensation that something horrible has happened.
The thud of a body hitting the floor.

Rhett tried to run to his sister, but he collapsed to the floor after a few steps. He didn’t even feel the blade connect. He’d been hit in the shoulder, but he couldn’t move his left arm. A second later, it fell to the floor next to him, oozing blood from where it once connected to his body. He swore, and fought to get to his feet. He back stepped, but the smoke was clearing. He shadow lunged, and its sword pierced Rhett in the chest. It lifted his feet clear off of the floor. But he didn’t allow himself to bleed violently. Using the ki channels in his chest, he redirected the floor of blood away from his missing arm and around the wound in his chest. He was still losing blood, but nothing close to what he would have normally. He stared the shadow in the face, but couldn’t help but feel it seemed familiar. His body was close to the shadow, and he could still move his main arm. He fed a large amount of ki into his arm, and grabbed hold of the shadows sword arm.

“Never give a Myrddin a chance to think!” He screamed into its face as he caused the arm to explode with the lightning blast. He, the sword and most of the shadow’s arm were sent flying, making his back crash through the family mosaic window. He hoped his ancestors thought it was a good trade, his life for their window. He fell for several seconds before crashing down on something wooden. It was dark, he was in agony, and he had a very small chance of surviving. He didn’t know if he’d broken any bones on his landing. Most of the pain in his shoulder and chest was keeping him occupied. As he stared up into the stars, he wondered if this was the end.

“Tell me, Master Rhett, how long do you plan on lying there?” said a familiar voice. It belonged to Miralda, the Myrddin family healer. She had long kept Rhett’s family in good health through her magic.

“The heck are you doing out here Miralda” he replied, ignoring her question.

“I was on my way to the city to get some supplies. Your father he been restless of late and needs some good exercise.”

“Perfect.” He noticed that he had landed on the back of her old wooden wagon. Miralda was old fashioned and didn’t like to travel any other way. “Get the horses on the right path and get started and closing my wounds, would you? I’d appreciate it. I can’t keep the blood flow moved for much longer.”

Miralda sighed in response, but cracked the reins anyway. As the horses began to move, she stood from her seat and attended to Rhett’s wounds even as he began to pass out. Just before the void took him, he managed to say “Mick’s place. Leave me there. Have to…hide.”


When he awoke, he found himself in a decrepit storeroom filled with hunks of metal and unknown devices that seemed to be ripped to pieces. His shoulder and chest were bandaged. Since they were clean he assumed the wounds were closed. He was lying on some sort of thin comfy mattress. To his right lay the sword the shadow had used, hand still grabbing onto the hilt. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but the hand looks like a woman’s. A regular hand not covered in shadow. Rhett got himself out of bed, wincing the whole time. He casually walked out of the messy storeroom and into a workshop. A messy haired man sitting bent over a workbench, while another similarly messy haired man sat lazily on the end. All four of his limbs were metallic in colour.

“Oh, the young master awakes” Joked the lazy looking man, faux bowing as Rhett walked in.

“Mike.”

The other man, who was called Michael, simply turned and nodded before getting back to his work. On the table lay another metallic arm.

“Took your measurements as you slept, did some work on the shoulder while we were at it.”

“We?” Michael commented.

Mike ignored him, and explained to Rhett in detail as to what surgery had been done. Rhett listened quietly. When he was finished, Rhett asked about what kinds of things he could get in his replacement arm.

“Well, seeing as this is rather short notice, not much I’m afraid. Hidden blades are all reserved, and we’re backed up with orders for guns, so no chance of getting one of those in it either.”

“What about prototypes?”

“We have a few. What are in the market for?”

Rhett thought about his encounter with the shadow. The smoke had distracted it, seeing as it didn’t pierce his heart. Rhett also knew more about the kind of items going in and out of these brother’s warehouse than he’d ever let on to them. They went back a few hundred years when Rhett helped them out with a few debt and hired muscle problems. Even as a bodyguard his employment didn’t last very long. But he heard rumours in his various jobs about prototypes.

“Something that can give me a smoke screen in a split second.”

Mike headed off into a backroom that was full of large metal lockboxes. He returned a short while later with a case containing several large bullet-tip shaped objects.

“Hot off the black market. Human’s call them “Smoke grenades”, and they just need to be launched out of something and connect with a surface. Instant smoke cloud.”

“That would take up a large part of the arm. I need something smaller. I already know exactly what is going to take up almost all the arm.”

Mike scratched at his head, seeming to be deep in thought.

“So, something really small then. I think we may have just the thing.”

He simply discarded the case into a corner of the room and went searching in the back room. Rhett turned his attention to the other brother who was hard at work on the prosthetic arm.

“So, what model am I getting?”

“Zemthus. TBN. Mk.IV”

Rhett was genuinely surprised. That was a hardcore military prototype. The only way to stop that kind of arm was to cut around it and sever it from the person using it, if you weren’t able to kill the owner anyway. It also allowed for a large amount of customization.

“Just to let you know, I want that Tesla railgun you keep in the back. I need it. I’ll double the pay for the whole package as well.”


His words caused Michael’s work to slow down some, obviously he wasn’t supposed to know that. When Mike returned, he had two crates instead of one. The first was smaller than a briefcase, while the other could easily fit a rocket launcher into it.

“AN13 smoke pellets” He said, placing it on the edge of the table, “And the Evangelic Hunter. Prototype Tesla railgun, just like you said. How you know about this monster is beyond me. Frankly I don’t give a damn. Nobody wanted it, because it doesn’t work.”

“Oh, it works. It just doesn’t have a power source.” Rhett countered.

Mike gave Rhett an annoyed look, but laughed it off a second later.

“Right you are. ‘Course, due to the lightshow you were giving off when you were out of it I assume you won’t have that problem.”

“If that’s everything, go back to sleep. You need it. The arm will be here waiting for you.”

Rhett assured them that is was, and took the hint to leave the brothers to their work.
He wasn’t worried about them finding out about his taboo breaking powers. Both of the Mick’s were complete renegades anyway. So long as he paid, they wouldn’t care.


When Rhett groggily awoke again, the brothers treated him to a very terrible and obviously instant breakfast. Luckily Rhett was used to buying this kind food himself whenever he was running low on pay on his long trips from home. Afterwards they began the painful operation of attaching the prosthetic arm to his shoulder. Like they had said, several obvious changes had been made to his shoulder when he was unconscious. Pieces of machinery showed up where flesh or bone should have been. Rhett soon let himself fall to the effects of the anaesthetic, leaving the ‘Mick’ brothers to work in peace. When he awoke for a third time, the operation was over. Michael was standing ready to walk him through the tutorial of using the arm. After two or three hours, Rhett was able to wiggle his fingers and move the arm slightly.

It took several months of physiotherapy for him to move it perfectly. But now he had full control. He was once again wearing his waiting outfit, minus the left shirt sleeve. He had also adopted a shortsword with a sheath which hung from his waist. He’d started staying at a medium rate hotel, the fancy ones were too obvious, and the low down ones were always where people who didn’t want to be found went. He’d taken to keeping toothpicks on himself, a strange quirk he picked up seemingly from nowhere. He’d heard news reports about his family. Every member assassinated, his corpse not found but his left arm being left behind didn’t give much hope of him being alive. He was saddened by the losses. Even as a demon, they shared a familial bond. Especially his sister. Most demons would have killed him for finding out about them breaking a taboo. But his sister helped him, and in return he helped her.
Rhett was going back to the Mick brother’s place to gather some more information. When he got there, however, he was startled to see a young girl in the middle of getting a replacement right arm.

A very familiar looking girl.

“Hey Rhett, don’t worry, she’s completely out right now. Came in with an assload of cash and wanted the ‘don’t-tell-anyone’ treatment. ‘Course, we saw that hand that came with the sword in your chest and we thought ahead. The arm’s got a bomb in it, up to you if you want to detonate it or not.”

Mike handed him a small remote with a single button in the centre. It had to be the same person that had killed his sister, yet the shadow was completely missing.

“You should have seen her when she was covered in that ‘shadow’ you were talking about. Seemed like the damn stuff had a mind of its own. She talks in her sleep, too. Sounds a lot different than the voice we heard when she came in though.”

Rhett assumed that she shadow was some sort of manipulator. There were rumours of such beings, though they were always baseless. Rhett decided to wait it out in the storeroom. An hour later, the he could hear that the girl had woken up.

“Ah, we thank you for you business.” It spoke, definitely not sounding like it should. It paused for several seconds before speaking again.
“Do you know why we came to this place?”

“For a replacement arm?”

“We smelled the blood of a dead man. Yes, but now we smell all that much more than when we came in.”

Rhett heard the sound of a sword being drawn and burst from the room. Mike was already sliced clean in two. Michael tried to move, but his head came clean off a split moment later. The shadow being stood between the bodies. Rhett pressed the button just as it lunged. Its left side detonated, losing even more of the arm than it had before. The shadow crashed into Rhett’s body, and he grabbed its head with his false arm and smashed it right into the wall.

“Why did you kill my family?!”

“Ha. Haha. Yes, this is why. I killed everyone at that castle, and more, because I want to die.”

“What?!”

“This world is coming to an end. It will simply cease to exist. Didn’t you know? There’s nothing that can be done to save it. But I, I do not want to simply cease to exist. I wanted to know death. But shadow beings cannot simply die, we posses, we fight, and then we may die.”

Rhett couldn’t believe his ears. End of the world, wanting to die, nothing the body of shadow said made sense. He twisted his left arm, changing it into the Railgun form. His hand slits down the middle to become the two end ’prongs’ that made up the barrel. Vents opened up to allow the heat to escape when he fired. He pressed the weapon into the shadows neck, savouring the crunching noises it made. With his free arm he charged enough ki to get the railgun working, before slamming it into the shoulder joint and letting the energy flow. The railgun lit up and began to whir. Sparks shot back and forth through the entire casing. It was a very uncomfortable feeling on his torso, but he didn’t care. He wanted his revenge, even if it meant killing the host of the shadow with it. He closed his eyes, focused his mind on the electrified arm, and fired.

He was no longer standing in that workshop when the blood splatter hit the floor, or when the girl’s corpse slipped to the floor.

Spoiler

SpoilerAs stated in the race, Quantos has the ability to time travel, induced by the time travel apparatus in his arm. This power however is difficult to manifest and requires a bit of concentration to pull off. He can also slow down or speed up time of an object other than himself, effectively allowing himself to slow air to create spontanious shields, or speed up walls so they can passed through. Of course as any action in space-time has an equal reaction, this causes his time travel apparatus to heat up, and too much will cause it to explode.

SpoilerUsername: Solaris

Name: Grace Knoll

Gender: Male

Race: Homo Sapien

Color: Let us go with nice, historical Black on Beige

Equipment/Abilities: Historian Thief partnered with an amateur sorcerer, a holy man, and an artifact specialist.
He has knowledge of the history of his world, from the birth of civilization to the more present times. This includes Holy Scriptures, constitutions, shipping records, strategies used by powerful leaders, secret passages, a bit of magic, all of the usual historical fare. In addition to this, there is a selection of items on hand “on loan” from a few “friends.” This includes two aptly named Chaos Dice, bringers of destruction to those who are on the other side of the roll, a ring of insight, able to bestow the user with knowledge of the powers of another, three uses of smoke pellets, used for obvious reasons, and finally a pistol that shoots cursed bullets, capable of inflicting a delayed death and nothing else. In addition to all these, is a otherwise normal human arm bone, stolen from the corpse of AFIAM THE INFAMOUS. He likes to bludgeon things with it. Beyond that, Grace has a rudimentary knowledge of runes and dead languages, and can recognize simple magic and artifacts, thanks to coaching from his peers. Finally, he was apparently blessed by a former member of the clergy, for all the good that will do him.

Description: Just a normal human in a trench coat, prepared to do whatever it takes to maintain the integrity of history intact. He has a nice clean cut of brown hair, fair skin, lanky, not too tall or short. He is quick and quiet as he has to be, careful with his hands and is always sure to clean up after what he does. His face usually holds a smile, both because of his truthful love for his profession and desire for better things, and to prevent others from prying into his darker secrets. A good liar, very good at making himself seem helpless when he needs to. He has a sense of justice, and would defend the innocent, but he knows when it is too late to do anything and when it is time to nip the bud.

Biography: Once in a time where he was more innocent, Grace Knoll was following his professor into a tomb of an ancient warlord. Grace followed intently with hopes of learning more about the various secrets that lie in the past. What he did not know was that his professor visited the tomb for more nefarious reasons.
As the pair descended deeper into the crypt, Grace found himself pinned to the wall by his professor.
"Listen Grace, you must be surprised. So trusting, so pure. I am sorry that I had to do this, but everyone needs to learn."
The professor shifted his foot a bit while Grace stayed there, paralyzed in fear.
"As you know many of these tombs are cursed, built by the finest architects of the time, they of course had magical help. Years ago I discovered this secret passage, but in order to open it, I needed a sacrifice. A human one."
The professor moved the terrified Grace on closer to the new passage, as he dragged him through, he exclaimed stories and stories of all of the horrors he had witnessed as a historian.By the time that the pair reached the bottom of the passage, Grace knew of all of the corruption in the historical world.
The two were in a new room, where only a single door with a rune that Knoll did not recognize stood. The professor ceased dragging his student and walked to the front of the door. From his corner, Grace desperately yelled.
"But why me? Why me if you thought I wasn't like that. That I wouldn't be like that? Why are you sacrificing me?"
The professor looked shocked at the accusation. He put down his head and moved to the door. He looked at his student and said, "You are a smart young lad, the past and future are in your hands. Hopefully, the secrets of this tomb will be more than enough to give you some standing, a jumpstart on the historical world."
He stands in front of the door and cuts himself. Suddenly a large flash of light goes off, as from that cut, goes all of the professors life force.
The door opens, revealing miscellaneous scrolls and priceless texts. Grace crawls to the professors body, only to find his clothes and a satchel as all that remains. Grace quickly takes the contents of the tomb in to his professor's satchel.
Years pass.
Grace has seen first hand the horrors described by his old professor. Lying and cheating as little as he could got him no where except in a position to be stepped on. He sought to seek the truth, but only found scum and villains, malevolents who only wished to abuse the gifts of the past. The forgery, lies, and just sickness of the world around him led Grace to hate the world around him. Learning all kinds of nasty tricks, he became a thief, saving the abused relics and retrieving them from the many evil and greedy monsters who held them. As he continued in his trade, he learned all about the ways to lie, and put on a facade of wicked helpfulness under a rightful saboteur's scowl. Then, one day, he met up with Daft Paul, a former holy man who had found two other similar individuals who wished to purify the world around them. However, once more Grace would find that sacrifices would have to be made for the cause, only this time, his life was in even more danger. But the fruits of the groups labor would never come, because he was whisked away by some grand being.