The Grand OC SII: The Re-OCening: Week 29: UNINTELLIGIBLE!

Right. Judging time!

First let's cover the most-contested award, Gratuitous Worldbuilding. There was some fierce competition for this one, but in the end I'm going to have to go with Sanzh's Shaishanvalai. A lot of care was taken in setting up the scenario to explain just how she was a failure, so good work there.

Mirdini's late submission of Ellai takes the Elementalist award, because this is the one profile to get across the idea that the character thinks of itself as a failure. Nicely done, although I can't shake the feeling there may be a subtle pun hiding in this one.

Up next, I think it's only appropriate for me to give Solaris' Scratches the Kitchen Sinkery award, what with it just genuinely being a bunch of lab animals thrown together.

Finally, Schazer is the proud recipient of the All-Rounder award, along with a bonus medal for using the pun I thought of moments after picking the theme. Everyone give a round of applause to Sil the fae lure.

so i know what you are all thinking, what theme could i possibly decide to want to judge
well obviously final fantasy 14
Anyway, while I have had various ideas that range all around on the scale of things, I am going to go with what would please me the most, so, without further ado, the next theme is... Bun.

Username: Fogel
Name: Kara-10
Species: Mind-control parasite
Gender: Identifies as female, regardless of host
Color: Brunette

Biography: Ten, as she prefers to think of herself, had a rather boring early life. Mostly because she was stuck in a petri dish as her creators poked at her. Something about ten failed lines before, but the new Kara line showed promise, she didn't really pay much attention. It was boring human talk.

Then they said something about a field test. "Test" was a word she'd gotten bored with, but "field" was new. That was almost interesting.

The next thing Ten knew, her petri dish was being scooped up and things got very dark. When she could see again, there was another boring human in front of her; this one looked a little worried.

"You're sure this is safe?"
"We've tested the others on small mammals. No long-term effects on the brain, and it can be removed safely with the right equipment. It's essentially just a transmitter. Now put it on."

The next few moments were a blur, as Ten found her visual sensors being rerouted. She was, as far as she could tell, seeing through different eyes.

"Now, hop on one foot."
"You shittin' me?" Ten shot back through her new mouth, and testing this new experience called a "vocabulary". "I'm still working out what feet even are!"
"This is a problem. Specimen Ten is showing signs of self-awareness, and has hijacked the test subject. Recommend we remove and terminate."
"Ugh, don't use big words this dumbass doesn't know! Oh, hell, I don't like the looks of that bottle."

And then everything around Ten vanished, and the next thing she knew, her exciting new senses were gone, and so was the world. Instead there was some fucker standing around talking about a battle to the death.

Well shit, she thought.

Description: Ten resembles a small tuft of hair. If you looked at her under a microscope, however, you could see a massive network of tiny cells that serves as crude sensory organs, allowing her to see, hear, and smell.

Ten doesn't really have much of a mind of her own; instead, when she's on a host, she looks into their mind and instinctively picks out aspects of their personality she finds interesting. She then retains these aspects when removed, either by force or by choice. At the time of the battle, her only host is a cynical, somewhat foul-mouthed custodial worker who only volunteered to be a lab rat because they needed a little extra cash, so her current personality reflects this.

Weapons and Abilities: Ten is a parasite, and her main ability is to infect. When placed on the back of a host's head, she takes full control of their mental functions. She's supposed to transmit commands from headquarters, but while she can receive commands, she has no particular inclination to follow them.

When attached to a host, Ten detects things through their senses and has full access to their thoughts and memories. However, she's not very good at distinguishing these from her own thoughts and memories, and hasn't quite grasped yet that she's just a pile of hair. When removed, she retains some of the knowledge and personality of her host.

Ten can also change color to match the hair of her host, though this happens instinctively. She might be able to do it on command if she realized that she was doing it. She can also take control of hosts that don't have hair, but she's unable to properly blend in when she does.

IN WHAT IS DEFINITELY AN INTENTIONAL PLAN ON MY PART AND NOT A MISTAKE, THE TIME LIMIT WITH WHICH WE HAVE TO WORK WITH IS THE FOLLOWING
-THE TIME THAT I LEAVE THE UNITED STATES FOR THE UNITED KINGDOM, WEDNESDAY THE 5TH, EASTERN STANDARD TIME
-RESULTS WILL BE POSTED ON THURSDAY THE 6TH, WHATEVER TIME ZONE THE UK IS IN
THIS IS A REMINDER OF THAT THAT WAS ALWAYS INTENDED AND NOT A LAST MINUTE THING, BECAUSE I AM VERY INTELLIGENT ALL THE TIME

IT'S THE 9TH

2014 YEAR OF THE REBOOT

uhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm


Epic Clash Finalist Combo goes to Kara-10 because i forgot about hair buns completely and it works overall.

Sportsball and Pandering goes to Yeas der abitt. because Wow, Its Bread, Thats a Rabbit, Thats For Me

WELL I DIDNT SEE THIS

sorry for accidentally reviving old thread

alright let's start a new week

this week's theme is Greater Arcana, and not just the tarot cards

take that to mean what you will

Username: Agenmagicks
Name: Worth Lestine
Species: The Lover
Gender: Both/neither
Color: #F08080
---
Biography: The Lover, the Dreamer and Me

"Morraine! Morraine! Where are you, my love?"

The shout drowned horribly amidst the pouring rain. All sound was wiped away in the susurration of falling water. Rivulets splashed and flowed through the mud below, forming banks and eddies that eroded the soil away, a fragment at a time, even as dust on the biting wind rose, fell, and plastered on more land. The ground had been taking it for ever, and most of it would last for evermore.

Most of it.

The Heart, a glorious construction of white marble and black obsidian, was half gone by the time Lestine arrived. Red mud slid like quicksand across the polished stone floors, carrying away statues and keepsakes. The roof lay in shattered chunks, battered by the unending rain. Lestine had eyes only for shapes under the mud. Digging, searching, screaming, they scraped handfuls aside even as more flowed in through the ruined white walls. Hoping. Water fell from the sky and coursed off of their naked, perfect body.

"Morraine?! Morraine?!"

All this sat just short of the border in between concept and reality. The Heart itself, what was left of it, sat on a cliff. Down below, in the roiling waves of the void ocean, was everything that had ever existed; high above were the aery wisps of pure idea. In between lay the Houses, where entities like Lestine and Morraine subsisted, at once more and less powerful than those on either side of unreality.

The storm, accordingly, was not so much a storm as the quintessential storm, the perfect storm, the signifier of a storm distilled and refined into a crackling, thundering jewel. This was a Storm, with a capital S. The only light came from blinding flashes of lightning, and from glowing tears that fell from Lestine's amber eyes. The soundscape was thunder, rain, the cracking sound of stone losing the battle under tons and tons of mud, and underneath, tinny against the onslaught of noise, screams. Shards of shattered obsidian tumbled down the cliffside, disappearing into the void of existence.

"Lestine!"

Needless to say, that shout penetrated the veil of sound without effort or hesitation. There are certain ideas and stimuli that disengage the conscious mind, like heat, danger, arrogance... and love. Lestine was running already, on reflex, slipping on the mud, clambering through the broken stones, fighting off the rain.

"Lestiiiine!"

There. At the far end of the Hea- at the far end of the shell that was the He- at the slew of burgeoning mudslide that covered what remained of the Heart, sitting out on the edge of an eroding cliff, lay Morraine, battered down by the precipitation and stuck thoroughly in the mud. The tops of shattered walls, poking out of the mire, were all that were left to show that the Heart had once been here.

Lestine didn't even bother screaming. They just ran, eyes fixed on the struggling figure of Morraine - the struggling, moving Morraine -

Underfoot, the mud shifted; a fusillade of cracks marked the floor giving way. The mass was loose, and the Heart was going with it.

"NO!"

Lestine screamed then, a scream to drive out their fear, a scream impelling them further, faster, over the shaking, sliding muck. They could see Morraine now, reaching out, their own tears flecking the mud, a inappropriate half-smile on their lips -

The cliff gave a mighty sigh, and let itself go. Lestine leapt for the outstretched hand, brushed their fingertips together for a second, and then they were falling.

The Lovers' hands were an inch apart.

"I love you, Lestine."

"Morraine! No! Don't say that, like it's - it's goodbye!"

The waves of the void ocean reached up for them like a mother's caress. They could turn up anywhere in existence. An inch could mean a universe down there.

"Stay true to yourself!"

"Morraine! I love-"

Description: Lestine is one of two Lovers, aspects of creation that choose to live and love just above the plane of existence, meddling with the lives of mortals. But the Storm has changed all that, and Lestine has fallen into the mire of mere matter.

They are an androgynous humanoid, completely naked save for a soft light glow that makes exact details hard to make out. Their hair is like flax, which drapes over golden-tanned skin and in front of amber eyes. Strands of hair form a patch of darkness over their face, out of which their eyes shine out, leaking glowing tears.

Morraine and Lestine are two poles, two satellites, two Lovers.

Morraine is the loving.

Lestine is the longing.

Weapons/Abilities: But now Lestine is alone. Love is ever-sweeter for the parting, but not when the parting shall never end. They are dull, bitter heartache. Being around them instills melancholy, like snow settling on the heart; stay around them, and you will want like you have never wanted before, an avalanche of desire; keep following, and icicles of regret and will wedge themselves deep in you.

You're theirs, then. Your heart is Lestine's to command. Your longing is theirs. Your love is theirs.

Name: Major Archimedes Anadeon
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Text Color: The color of destiny

Description: At seven-and-a-half feet, Major Anadeon towers over most of his fellow soldiers. This and his red hair, as bright as the sun, are his most striking features. Those who can get past the initial indimitation may notice his good looks; Major Anadeon has had a number of lovers, all of whom are quick to call him a handsome devil.
However, he doesn't have much of a reputation for friendliness. He often says that his primary mission is to bring justice to this sinful world, and has little interest in much else. He isn't completely humorless, though; he's been known to take part in the occasional celebration after a great victory, though he never drinks a drop of wine. He considers his temperance key to his focus.

Weapons and abilities: It would be a mistake in judgement to think that Major Anadeon is a rising star in the army only for his incredible strength. He's also quite clever, and has shown a remarkable capacity to fool his enemies. His tactical prowess is so renowned that some of the army's top strategists call him "the Magician", as he comes up with plans that seemed impossible otherwise.
He carries no weapons, but he does ride a magnificent war chariot. It's quite fast, and is outfitted with spikes for ramming into other chariots. (Or horses, or occasionally infantrymen.) Major Anadeon takes very good care of it; at times he's seemed unduly obsessed with its wheels, calling them the key to his good fortune.

Biography: There are few hard facts known about Major Anadeon's birth or early life.
What is known is that an infamous outlaw surprised everyone by turning himself in at the Empress' court. He confessed to everything, and was promptly sent to the gallows. As was customary for the condemned, the hierophant asked if he had any final requests.
The man nodded. He explained that he had been living as a hermit for twenty years to evade the law, but three years ago he found a young child, abandoned and starving.
For the last three years, he'd been raising the child as best he could, but as the boy grew, he soon realized that he couldn't provide for two. And so he would give up his own life so the younger man might live better.
Moved by the story, the hierophant agreed to arrange a home for the boy after the hanged man's death.
It wasn't long before it became clear that young Archimedes was no ordinary boy. His size lead many to wonder if he was a bastard child of the late Emperor, a bear of a man; there had already been many rumors that the last ruler had been neglecting his wife in favor of the High Priestess.
Of course, that was just one of many stories that spread as Archimedes Anadeon grew up, joined the army, and distinguished himself both through his combat prowess and his cunning plans.
It's unlikely that anyone will ever know the truth, or why Major Archimedes Anadeon suddenly disappeared one night, as he was riding his chariot to the battle under the light of a full moon...

Im just gonna say that arcana means "mysteries" more or less, so the theme can be taken as "Greater Mysteries" overall, not just "Tarot puns"

also im gonna end the 'week' next monday in the hopes of one or two more entries

Username: from Scha to zer
Name: Pitchfester
Gender: prophet
Race: Cannallilium, common name Dog Lily
Color: dull fear

Description: A horse-sized, emaciated monster, of a drooping quadrupedal body and laboured, unsteady gait. Of near-colorless green, smooth hide with sparse, translucent hairs, its skin better-resembles a plant than a beast.

On its slender neck are structures like potato eyes, regularly spaced, where seedheads grow once the individual is fertilised. Cannallilia tremble violently when feeling threatened, so if you hear rattling, back off.

Its head, is obscured by many layers of large, iris-like petals. With its stooped posture, only the grey undersides of these petals are normally seen. The inner side is brightly colored, however, coming in a variety of warm colors and patterns that vary from individual to individual. Speckles or streaks are common, but plain or edged colors are seen too.

Several inner petals cover its sensory organs, which are a bunch of creepy bristly tendrils. Dog Lilies would make great kissers if they didn't give you violent rashes and all the allergies forever.


Weapons/Abilities: Pitchfester, being a prophet to some deity or another, is slightly more magical than its kin, and is proud owner of a little more animalistic cunning. Unlike the static markings on the facial displays of other Dog Lilies, Pitchfester's change every time it obscures and reveals them. It uses this to communicate, though for the most part all it communicates is "go away" "mine" and "I will hurt you."

It dislikes fighting, but when pushed it'll use its substantial bulk to pin a foe. No internal organs and highly caustic blood make hacking it apart inadvisable, as it doesn't take much issue with shoving its own severed limb down an assailant's throat.

Also, its pollen is allergenic because nature hates you. Allergenic enough even to cause permanent allergies, to a bunch of more mundane air-particulates. That's totally how allergies work, shut up.

Prophetic blessing also gives Pitchfester a leg up over a lot of communication barriers, and also a penchant for dispensing surprisingly good advice (to those who are nice to it, anyway. Try beating information out of it and its involuntary wisdom imparted will lead to ruin if followed).

Of course, all this counsel (good or not) is delivered through weird petal-semaphore, so it's not Pitchfester's fault if the recipient doesn't understand it.


Biography: Cannallilia are probably plantlike dogs, rather than the other way around - but not even Pitchfester is sure, and it's the smartest among its kind.

Born from a corpse-cradle after murdering a half-dozen of its siblings for the right to reach maturity, Pitchfester at some point earned a bit of divine attention, which made it noticeably smarter than the rest of its kind. Its ever-shifting markings confused the heck out of its kin, giving it leeway to cause all kinds of mischief and get away with it, until its patron goddess started plaguing it with this weird urge to advise.

Its weird propensity for advice worth following earned it a spot beside a couple influential people (including royalty!) over its lifetime, but lately it's been terrorising a village who did something to piss it off.

To the villagers' relief, the strange "grey terror" which left forest intruders infirm vanished one day without a trace.

Username: Pharmacy
Name: The Starcatcher’s Song
Species: Giant Robot Wizard.
Gender: Eh.
Color: My God it’s full of stars!

Description: “Follow me!”

The gaggle of humans and humanoids followed the tour guide-nee-intern down the hallway into a prodigiously large room. It was seven in the morning - way too early to be cognizant, even amidst the mechanical wonders of the National Artificer Museum. They passed by a couple technological relics, remainders of the ancient past, before coming up to their next destination.

The room was incredibly sparse save for this sleek, almost alien-looking suit of armor in the middle of a platform. A closer examination realizes that the suit was not empty, but full of cogs, sprockets, and other sorts of mysterious doodads that made up its mechanical entrails. The complexity of its insides was scintillating enough that some of the audience wondered if it was capable of independent movement provided some method of control was generously provided. Indeed their suspicions proved correct when a nearby screen flickered to life - displaying in mesh modeling, all the things the machine was capable of doing - including walking, blasting magic, and most bizarrely, transforming into a spaceship that was capable of flight.

“This is the Starcatcher’s Song,” the tour guide excitedly chirped. “The brainchild of the Embrach Starcatcher - an artificer known for her advances in the Cosmoplanar Sciences! She was absolutely brilliant!”

The screen flickered again, showing a picture of a surprisingly beardless wizard. Her disorderly fashion and posture belied the surly expression on the person’s face. It gave a feeling that the person cared more about arcane science than most other things in life and was rather impatient to boot. The tour guide gave the portrait an admiring salute before realizing they had a group to lead.

“Brilliant!” The tour guide chuckled. “But also quite ambitious!”

Weapons/Abilities: “Um,” a goblin in the back asked, raising his hand to punctuate his confusion. “What does it do?”

“Ah, everything it can do on the screen!” The tour guide tapped at it. “Well, let’s be a bit more specific. It is strong, but not quite strong, being a vehicle for exploration, not for war. It is magical but not quite, most of the magic is used to indefinitely power the vehicle. It can turn into a ship and fly, but it is not exactly aerodynamic. But you know they say about the whole is greater than the sum of their parts - the whole being essentially a giant robot wizard - a giant robot wizard you can wear!”

The suit let loose a jet of stream as it unfolded, revealing a human-sized chassis and the nature of it being a magical powered exoskeleton.

“...Can I wear it?”

“What? No.”

Biography: “Why?”

“Well, you see,” the tour guide. “The Starcatcher’s Song is haunted.”

The statement earn the tour guide a net total of twenty blank stares. The tour guide wisely decided to explain further.

“W-well, you see. The Starcatcher’s Song was the brainchild of Embrach Starcatcher for herself. While there were plenty of advancement in the field of Cosmoplanar Sciences - it was all on chalkboards and speculation. No one has ever truly went into a Cosmoplane in the meat. Most people think it was nearly impossible not to mention inherently dangerous - I am sure all of you know how much magic leaks out of Cosmoplane - especially the dangerous uncontrollable ‘gives you extra eyes’ sort.”

“Embrach, being ambitious and disappointed at the rate arcane art was going at, decided if nobody was going into the Cosmoplane, then she’ll do it. After networking and accumulating the funds and resources - most out of her own pocket - she managed to create this miracle of an exosuit in her own garage. While not averse to risk, Embrach was never unaware of the fact that her trip could result in her own demise. As a result, she named the suit as the Starcatcher’s Song - to appeal to her own determination and to realize the suit she made could be the last grand performance she’ll ever do - a swan’s song, if you may.”

“What went wrong?” A dwarf asked nervously.

“Well, she went to the Cosmoplane and immediately all contact was lost between her and the material world. A few hours passed before the Cosmoplane spat out her suit - slightly dented but none the worse for wear. Of course when the pressure was equalized and the flaps of the suit were disengaged, what the chassis that used to house Embrach Stargazer...was completely empty.”

A slight fear seized the crowd and made them go discontent.

“Now, now. That doesn’t mean she is actually dead-dead. The nature of outer planes means death is not permanent or at sort of a vague concept. Official records indicate she might be lost in some other higher dimension. But current evidence points that she might be a spirit clinging strongly on her exosuit. That might explain why the suit keeps on generating magic despite not being hooked to an arcane generator of sorts. Or why the suit keeps walking at night tripping all the security alarms, but you didn’t hear that. Of course, there isn’t exact proof until we hire an exorcist of some sort, which will come by--What.”

It was just then the tour guide noticed the Starcatcher’s Song was gone.

Im just gonna say that arcana means "mysteries" more or less, so the theme can be taken as "Greater Mysteries" overall, not just "Tarot puns"

also im gonna end the 'week' next monday in the hopes of one or two more entries

I was going to go with a giant collection of magical artifacts but then Lestine happened.

Mine isn't a pun

Mine isn't a pun

should've said "or tarot-themed", tho it doesnt mean tarot themes are bad!

Still planning on making an entry thing if the deadline gets extended another couple days, work Happened over the weekend :B

Romy's internet got kneecapped by her dad again, so I pastebinned her the profiles and she conjured up some awards for the winners.

Romy found Pitchfester deserving of the Kitchen Sinkery award, until I explained the awful stealth puns on IRC.

The Lover nets the Arnold Fogge, thanks to a solid ability and a lot of mess-upping power within a battle.

The Starcatcher's Song held such a special allure, that Romy couldn't help give it the Worldbuilding prize. Nice going!

Finally, the Major gets the Kracht Saw It Coming, by doing exactly what Romy feared and shoehorning the name of every tarot card in there.

I would like to do this again, if anyone's gracious enough to host.

In that case, your next theme will be Exacting

Name: Ricardo Castillo Mendez
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Text Color: #78ABCD

Biography: Even at a young age, Ricardo's talent on the stage was obvious. But it wasn't until a high-school performance of The Butterfly's Trainer that he found a role he could truly connect with - Aaron, the spiteful former lover of one of the lead actresses.
Ricardo was not one for romance himself, but he managed to capture the core vulnerability behind Aaron's desperate schemes to win back Janelle's heart. Aaron felt real, and human, and somehow was a more terrifying antagonist for it.
Even Ricardo was surprised by how well it had gone. He felt as though he had captured the character perfectly in every detail, and it left him wanting to try similar roles.
So, as he grew up, he sought out plays with a former lover of a main character, and each time he was deemed perfect for the part. His ability to get into the character, to understand everything about them, was simply incredible.
His reputation grew with every performance, and his name alone began to draw audiences.
That suddenly stopped one day when, in the middle of a performance as the sinister Count DuBarr, he simply vanished.

Weapons and Abilities: Ricardo isn't fully aware of it, but when he takes on the persona of a particular type of character, he enters a trancelike state.
For all intents and purposes, he is the character he's playing as, totally unaware of any world beyond the stage. Were he pulled out of the performance for some reason, such as being entered in an interdimensional battle to the death, he wouldn't notice at all and would do precisely what the character would do in the same situation.
He can be knocked out of the trance if he suffers a strong shock, or if he thinks the scene is ending.
At the time of his abduction, he was holding a rapier to duel with the leading man. How well he uses it depends on the role he's in. If he's out of the trance, he can use it more or less competently.
Ricardo is also quite good in other roles, which might be helpful if he needs to impersonate someone.

Description: Ricardo is a handsome young Hispanic man, which certainly helps his stage presence. He's a bit shy and doesn't connect easily with people one-on-one; on the whole he's much more comfortable on the stage.
However, his current persona, Count DuBarr, is a cold and calculating man whose primary goal is seeking revenge on the man who spurned him by destroying his new lover. The Count is more than willing to make and break alliances to get what he wants, but who can say how long this role will last?

Username: That devil you know
Name: The Devil You Don't
Species: Malbranchic demon
Gender: Irrelevent
Color: Burn notice

Biography: The demonic are a curious bunch, persistent thoughts made manifest. Through contracts with the afflicted, they may alter reality to a state which might whet the appetite of an all-consuming thought.

Their power is initially restricted to dark corners and places unseen, but by earning a reputation for catering to a specific kind of whim, a devil's capabilities grow. Demons serve mortals in a bid to gain repute, definition, and prestige, all of which make them more powerful.

Those are double-edged swords, however - nine out of ten devils who grow powerful enough to undo death end up pigeonholed into restoring the lives of lovers. Sure, it's a living, but it doesn't help with the average devil's end goals, which are sufficient power and the right contract to reshape reality into something that positions them as its all-powerful master. They keep that on the down-low though, for the most part.

The soul-claiming thing is mostly irrelevant - each soul can only enter into one contract ever, which makes for good PR if you're the devil of choice for famous and influential people, but there's a counterculture of pious types who'll get a deal over and done with a no-name Hedonic devil during puberty to save themselves the heartache afterward.

Anyway, The Devil You Don't is one such creature, and one of the most powerful of its kind, dealing with folks who can't get revenge off their minds. Something of a cult classic among contract-seekers and demonologists, The Devil You Don't is popular enough to be discerning with its choice of clients but not so infamous as to lose control of its identity to the masses. If you want an elaborate and untraceable scheme to destroy someone who wronged you, the Devil You Don't is your Malbranchic of choice.

Description: The Devil You Don't has no physical presence when it's not on contract, and can only manifest to those with persistent thoughts of revenge, the Devil You Don't's associated school of thought. If you harbor thoughts that might invite it, the Devil You Don't appears as an attractive, androgynous, sharply-dressed individual of the viewer's species, with grey eyes, silver nails and teeth, and cherry-red skin with visible seams and flat-headed screws on its joints.

Like all devils, it's unswerving in the completion of tasks assigned to it. In contrast to other devils, the Devil You Don't is meticulous, methodical, and very particular about getting all its ducks in a row before screeching into motion, earning it a particular appeal among certain kinds of people. It's rarely emotional on the job - the most irritation it'll show is when it's been launched into a situation where others know what's going on better than it does.

The Devil You Don't is arguably more dangerous when uncontracted, because it'll be convincing you to accept its help while furthering its own agendas. Any contract made with it though will be an arduous, carefully constructed affair, as it's in the Devil You Don't's nature to very clearly lay out its duties to be performed while it's made manifest. It's quite flexible in this regard, catering to folks who only want the individual responsible taken down, or letting the Devil burn and ruin anything in its path to the prize.

Also, don't ask it what kind of devil it doesn't. It's heard it, like, a billion times already.

Weapons/Abilities: Uncontracted, the Devil You Don't doesn't physically exist, but can sense receptive minds and potentially map out its surroundings that way. The Devil You Don't's physical form is truly formidable, but there's a cognitive firewall preventing its considerable intellect from focussing on anything other than the task at hand.

The Devil You Don't can move silently, is obscenely athletic, and can magically cloak itself so its presence is utterly unremarkable. It can prestidigtate small items, including replacement body parts (held in place with those screws). Its nails and teeth are razor sharp, normally kept at a sensible length but easily switched for knifelike affairs.

Being a Malbranchic devil, it is an enabler of desires outwardly harmful. It started out with individuals, but has lately been cutting its teeth on less concrete entities like corporations and entire countries, to give some indication of its power. It's not quite powerful enough to help someone who wants to give a fundamental law of reality like death itself the middle finger. If it keeps up the good work, though, it might be due a promotion.

Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Yrna
Species: Sword
Gender: N/A
Colour: Whatever
Description: Yrna is a magical longsword embedded in a huge immobile rock. Its hilt is decorated in an intricate pattern of gold and royal blue. Its blade is silver, in colour at least, and wickedly sharp. Carved on the rock are a series of runes, which roughly translated read ‘only the truly worthy can unsheathe this blade of transcendant power’ it then goes on to give a rather exhaustive description of the person who will be deemed worthy, including details such as height and weight, hair and eye colour, a brief summary of their political leanings and their most preferred colour. The blade occasionally sparkles with a pale purple energy.
Items/Abilities: Yrna is a blade of transcendant power. Like really powerful.
Biography: You want this blade. Why not step on up and have a try?

33 hour warning

The Elementalist award goes to Bigro, for making a demanding maniacal monstrosity that singlemindedly pursues the exact definition of the theme. It also receives the Actually Practical Award, not for actually being a practical contestant in anything given that it's basically a trio of buildings, but because of the way that it would interact with other characters through screens and try to persuade them to let it make mind slaves. That sounds like a good time.

On a similar note, the Teamfriendliness Cup goes to Fogel, for making the only character that can actually interact normally without seeking out a contract, wielder, or mind slave. Nice job, human-person.

The Sportsball and Worldbuilding award both go to Schazer for her 'malbranchic' demon (malbranchea being a family of fungus closely related to a pathogenic species known to wreak havoc on the central nervous system). The notion that the demon is shaped and powered by belief about it is one of my favorite tropes about divinities.

Ixcaliber wins the All-Rounder Award for a fun concept of a picky sword. Though, really, if there's only one true hero that can wield it, it does make sense to be as specific as possible so that the right person knows to come and pull it out.