The Grand Master

The Master held his head in his hands. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

It was a simple enough idea. Start up a battle to the death between eight powerful fighters across the multiverse. (Eight was his lucky number, after all.) But then he'd realized there were simply too many candidates!

He'd settled on a solution, though; get someone else to do it for him. He called up eight of his fellow transdimensional deities, and asked them to each pick a contestant to enter the battle.

Or at least that was the plan. As soon as they'd arrived at his sanctum to start the ceremony, they began bickering with each other. He couldn't even get a word in edgewise.

This was ridiculous! He was just trying to get eight beings to fight with each other for his amusement, but he couldn't because these... eight beings... were fighting with each other...

He lifted his head from his hands and smiled. Perhaps there was a way to handle this after all.

Welcome to the Grand Master! This is an absolutely terrible idea.

This is a standard Grand Battle, except the Master has decided to enter his Grandmaster-level colleagues. In short, your character is going to be a Grandmaster, with all the ridiculous powers and various mental issues that entails.

I'm expecting an absolute disaster. Anyways, here's a profile template for you:

Name: They're a Grandmaster, so this should be The Noun!
Gender: Assuming they don't transcend it.
Race: What type of godlike being are they?
Text Color: So we can tell them apart without being driven to madness. #3F6109 is reserved for my use.
Backstory: How did they come into existence or acquire their incredible powers?
Description: What do they look like when they allow our mortal minds to gaze upon them? And how specifically are they a terrible person?
Weapons/Abilities: Well, okay, they're basically omnipotent, so this is more of what they specialize in besides being omnipotent.

I'll give you rounds, but given every one of you has dimensional manipulation powers, this is probably a futile exercise.

Now let's board this trainwreck!

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I enter The Charlatan before Nottles has the chance to!

SpoilerShow

let me think of something okay, i dont know if i want to do something with prospective ideas i have lying around or make a new thing or what

I enter The Guy. It's actually MrGuy but don't tell him I'm doing this. I'll be our little secret.

Name: The Bastard
Gender: Male
Race: Grandmaster
Text Color: #4080FF with italics when speaking for added bastardry
Backstory: Used to be a reality TV singing contest judge, was a bastard, acquired fame and later immortality, eventually learned how to do all the grandmaster shit. He used to go by the name of The Opponent and briefly by the name The Meddler. He changed to this because he liked it better.
Description: The Bastard dresses in a black marching band outfit with gold lining. He has slicked back black hair, thick with hair gel, and an obnoxious little goatee beard. He carries with him everywhere he goes an epee and weird shiny golden eyes. He is generally quite obnoxious going out of his way to get in the way of others. If there is something he can do to spite one of the other Grandmasters he will spare no of effort to ensure that it happens. If he had a battle he’d probably skew it in favour of one of the contestants and after that contestant had won he’d kill him for the fun of it, that or throw him straight into another. Essentially he’s a bastard.
Weapons/Abilities: Standard grandmaster stuff. No particular sphere of influence.

I had this lying around:

Name: The Extravagant
Gender: Dude
Race: Ascended Human and Personification of ACTION
Text Color: this thing that anomaly said
Backstory: Belief is a powerful thing. Sometimes, far more than one expects.
Michael Bay was once a simple director, just a man in charge of making a movie. And that he did, in fact, he made many movies, most notably being the Transformers Films. After the third film was released, something amazing happened. While on the set for an upcoming film, Michael Bay suddenly became a god.
For whatever reason, enough people believed in his movies and in his skills as a director of action movies, that Michael Bay rose above his mortal limitations and became The God of Action.
Description: In a single, infinitesimal pocket of reality, a single mote of dust in all existence (though there is one who might protest this fact), there lies an impossibly extravagant mansion, composed entirely of the rarest and most valuable gemstones in all the multiverse. In one of the magnificently enormous mansion's countless luxurious parlors lay a man, dressed in the most exorbitant robes imaginable, made from materials only found in universes which has long since ceased to be.
Weapons/Abilities:

This is something I can't really resist joining.

I enter The Guy. It's actually MrGuy but don't tell him I'm doing this. I'll be our little secret.

THAT'S NOT EVEN A FULL PROFILE >:U

So hoping on Selvsetter.

I enter The Guy. It's actually MrGuy but don't tell him I'm doing this. I'll be our little secret.

THAT'S NOT EVEN A FULL PROFILE >:U

SHSHSHSHSHS. DON'T WORRY. EVERYTHING WILL BE OK.

Name: The [Redacted]
Gender: [Redacted] (gender-neutral he)
Race: Humanoid-lookin'. It's awfully hard to recall any of his features though. They just seem to...draw a blank. If you try really hard you might get a glimpse, but then inevitably a black bar appears over anything specific.
Text Color: #0F0F0F
Backstory: The [Redacted] was once a quintuple agent for several countries at the same time. As a result, the levels of secrecy surrounding him became so great that no one was ever sure what, who or where he was. After time-crimes became commonplace as well, no one was even sure when he was. Eventually, he became a legend, with feats like averting interstellar war to secretly owning every government in the universe ascribed to him.

It wasn't nearly that exciting, of course; he'd just become so mysterious as to become, bewilderedly, somehow omnipotent. Belief is a powerful thing, and with what, who, where, when he was all lost in oblivion, he lost the final piece of identity that gave him his final [redacted]: why he was.

He was a bit confused after he rose into omnipotence. His only clear memory in the blur that had been his mortal life was the act of removing information; thus his new existence he built around that.
Description: Specifics are hard to pin down with the [Redacted], but he usually manifests as a suit-wearing special agent. When you think about it, however, you can't recall what the suit was like, or how it was cut, or any kind of ornamentation. What you can remember, however, is the distinct idea of black - censor-bar black. If you thought really really hard, you might remember rectangles of the black peeling away from the suit - then probably you'd remember nothing but a distinct array of black bars. (If you scanned the bars, you would get the message "p4wg4k4wp0j4". What? They're censor bars. They're not supposed to be barcodes.)
Weapons/Abilities: The [Redacted] is intensely unmemorable. He specializes in information - the editation of, the redaction and destruction of, the fabricating of. As a mortal he had been a brilliant liar - lying gets a bit complicated when you're omnipotent. He's so used to lying, in fact, that while he could just change the world to fit the lie that would somehow be cheating.

A'ight, fuck it


Name: The Charlatan

Gender: Bastard

Race: Human...oid

Color: It is Green


Backstory: While his ascent to Grandmastery is necessarily unrelatable (in part because he doesn't actually remember most of it), The Charlatan has spent most of his time since spreading mischief throughout the various realities. He has tested For Want Of A Nail on several occasions; shut down vital systems at inopportune moments on important craft modern, magical, and otherwise; created several major religious figures via precision hallucination; and subtly influenced not a few Grand Battle rosters with careful application of disembodied voices posing as the soon-to-be-host's own thoughts.

His fellow Grandmasters dislike him to varying degrees, from mild apathy to deep loathing to outright murderous intent. The Charlatan is very, very careful not to raise their ire too much, though, nor to make them see him as much of a threat. He's just a playful scamp, after all. The notion that he has any ulterior motives or grandiose plans is just silly.

Just. Plain. Silly.


Description: The Charlatan is tall and slim with a tendency to loom. He is clothed in forest green magician's garb with white trim, complete with top hat and not-quite-floor-length high-collared cape. The cape makes him appear much bigger than he is, and is typically drawn around him "so as to be all mysterious and shit." His face is obscured by a semicircular mask of a toothy smile that appears to be made from the color white. Close inspection reveals that no part of his body is visible.

Personality-wise, he's a self-serving asshole. He's insulting, condescending, and sarcastic. He lies, cheats, and deceives to get what he desires; assuming he can't just take it without asking. Or, preferably, ask and then take before the answer comes. He's a manipulator, and to that end makes a point of knowing as much about a person as possible before making contact. He is especially covetous of secrets, preferably the dark ones that would be embarrassing or dangerous were they to somehow come up in conversation.

That said, he is unnaturally friendly and cheerful at all times, which often comes off as creepy coupled with his appearance. Any other emotional display (and sometimes his joviality as well) has an obvious jocular insincerity to it.


Abilities: Besides flight and incorporeality, he's fast enough in mind and body to consistently avoid being sucker-punched by his omnipotent compatriots, though his elastic anatomy helps with that some, too.

Additionally, he's a master illusionist, capable of creating falsehoods of any size and shape and affecting any and every sense of any and every being he should so choose. He can not, however, create or destroy actual matter; his illusions do not truly exist, and can be passed through at the cost of feeling as though one is being crushed by whatever they're attempting to navigate (assuming the illusion in question affects touch or whatever appropriate sense whichever species may have). These abilities were taught to him by The Fool, one of the very few Grandmasters he counts as a friend.