The Savage Brawl [Round 5: Battletopia]

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Name: Diego Red (nickname- the earworm killer)
Sex: male
basic discription: sound manipulating serial killer
Color: this sickly one
Equipment: a mythril knife, and a sword that is only for show.
Abilities: extremely weak air magic. So weak that it is basically impercivable. While it's weak, Diego has an incredibly strong control over it, and can manipulate the vibrations in air so well that he can mimic sounds and voices from a fair distance away. When he vibrates his mythril knife fast enough, stabbing someone with it is enough to put their body in shock. His nickname, the earworm killer, comes from the ability he uses to kill- by focusing every little piece of his power in a small place, usually his finger, he creates a needle of air that vibrates so fast it is soundless. He takes this and puts it inside someone's ear, instantly destroying everything inside. The pain and shock is usually enough to kill the victim instantly.
Physical discription:

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Spoiler

a amiable looking young man, with short, spikes hair. He changes wear depending on the occasion, but for this he would be dressed in light chainmail with a scholar's clothes on top.
Personality: he wears the mask of A sensible, calm person who always carries a half smile on his face. However, his more true nature is an obsessive, detail oriented monster. I say monster because he is able to convince himself to do things beyond morals, towards any goal he desires to reach. In a sense, he lacks the qualities of a human.

Background: Diego hails from a land similar to Baphomet's character (maybe even the same one if it's interesting enough to write). Each being has the potential for magic, although most never gain this power. Diego had his power from birth, but never flaunted it. He had no reason to, considering that when men could bend rivers and call lightning from the sky, all he could do was make a tiny bit of air make sounds. His parents were aware of this, and raised him like a normal child, since it would be easier to live as a commoner than a weak Mage. Since his family was a merchant family, he had a lot of time he could dedicate to reading on the road, and plenty of books to do so with. Those books could have been where Diego's monstrosity steed from, although it would also be smart to assume he Always had it.
Above all, Diego enjoyed reading legends. Legends, you know, of men who punched gods, fought monsters, won princesses... that kind of thing. Legends of the greatest men in and out of history. He was lucky enough to have a one of a kind book, to be sold. The idea was attractive, to him- the idea of becoming a legend. In fact, the desire to become a legend pervaded him completely. But,reality was, the wasn't a fraction of a chance he could become a legend. He wasn't like anybody in legends, he wasn't a man who could crack the earth and split the skies. All he could do, was alter the air a little. Still, He was content enough, reading legends and dreaming. Yet, becoming a legend was always on his mind.
Then, one day, his book was bought. He wasn't even done with it. Do you know the feeling of reading a book, and never finishing it? It's an annoying thing indeed, but for Diego it was much worse. The book was his obsession, his greatest desire. So he went to retrieve his book. Of course, he had no money. He wasn't going to get the book back so easily. But, he wanted it, more than anything else. So, for the first time in ages, he asked the air to speak for him. Somehow, it was natural to him, as if the air was a complete extension of himself. In a ghostly whisper, Diego made the winds howl, screaming at the book owner. Diego did it carefully though, sending sounds to the book owner and nobody else. Sounds that spoke like ghosts, whispering the book was haunted, that it was not to be kept, that it needed to be returned to the merchants it was bought from. But, the man was a famous collector, and strong willed. He ignored the voices, and locked himself in his home.
Diego was stuck, then. His family would leave in a day, and he could not get into the house and get the book without being caught. But... no. He refused to allow anything to stop him. It was then, probably, that Diego really did become a monster. He waited until dark, and climbed the back of the house. Finding a window, he held the air still and broke it, allowing soundless entry. In a silent way, he moved through the house, to the Collector's bedroom. There, the collector slept, clutching the book. Diego pondered grabbing the book and running, but he knew it wouldn't be safe. No, as long as the Collector was here, he could not take the book. Without hesitation, he decided to kill the man. Then, he pondered. He didn't ponder if he should or shouldn't kill, he only pondered how he'd do it. A knife to the throat? It was certainly a good idea, but he did not have a knife. There may have been a knife downstairs, but there could also be servants. Diego meticulously went over the possibilities. He needed a method to kill instantly... He recalled an anatomy book. The most vital object in the body was the brain, and it was only a few inches deep. It could easily be accessed through the ear. However, Diego didn't think he'd have the time or ability to find a needle to use. So, he created his own. He focused his air around his finger. It was surprising how well constructed it was, air packed so tightly and vibrating at such dangerous speeds.
Diego wasn't certain this would work, but... it was what he believed to be his best option. Silently, he leaned over the collector and shoved his needle in the man's ear. The collector's eyes shot open and he twitched violently for an instant, and suddenly lay still. Diego quickly checked for signs of life, and found none. Blood was shooting out of the man's ear now, as if all the solids inside had been reduced to liquid and needed to escape. Carefully, Diego removed the book and left without any further events.
He rebound the book with a new cover that night, so that his parents would not suspect that he had taken the book back. And so, he continued his peaceful life. It would be some years later, when he had become a student in a scholar's college, that he found a report of his murder. It was filed away as a mystery, an inconclusive file. It was then, that he realized how he could become a legend. Yes, even after 8 or so years, his dream never left him. If anything, it festered and grew. What was the criteria for becoming a legend? Changing the world, and being known to all. A hero could save the world and do it, but him? Diego knew he didn't have the ability to build a better world. Still, there was another way to fame- infamy. All he had to do was destroy and ruin the structure of the world, and make sure everyone knew it was him who did it.
First, though, he made a plan. Carefully, he made a list of people he could kill, their connections and the methods to doing so. As a scholar, it was easy to get this information, and he made sure to cover his tracks. Then, he killed his first target. A noble, a powerful mage. It had been simple: Diego simply made the air whispered to the noble, silently, in the voice of the noble's daughter but slightly deeper. It was close enough to the voice of the man's dead wife. Slowly, Diego chipped away at the man's sanity, and finally forced the man to visit his wife's grave, alone. Carefully, Diego approached the noble, and silently whispered, in the noble's own voice, for the man to trust him. The Noble's mind was easily twisted now, and Diego convinced the man to visit again, on a holiday, when everyone else would be partying. On that day, Diego destroyed the noble's ear and brain with his needle.

Diego continued doing this, meticulously making sure he would never be caught, and always killed his targets in the same way, to assure that all of these events would be attributed to him. At some point, he picked up the mythril knife, which greatly aided his murders. Slowly, whispers of the "earworm Killer" spread. The nation was in a panic. The killer's methods were specific, but the killer could never be traced. Then, the killings stopped for the period of a year, and the panic had subsided. The nightmare was over... And then, the king was murdered. A years worth of planning had allowed Diego to enter the castle frequently as a scribe, familiarize himself with the workers, and become part of the family, in a sense. He never forgot his goal, though, and at night, on the new year's day, Diego killed the king in the bathroom. Undignified, but effective. The day after, Diego was warped across space and time, here to the savage brawl.

Originally posted on MSPA by Kaitostrike.

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[img]images/smilies/whatpumpkin.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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Kaito, I'd rather you didn't resubmit a character. Can you try making someone new?

Originally posted on MSPA by Kaitostrike.

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[img]images/smilies/whatpumpkin.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.

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*looks at the other character profiles*

This is going to be so insane. I will be shocked if we manage to get through a round without massive collateral damage.

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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My character wouldnt be able to destroy anything yayyy

Also, I must say, Kaito: I'm really not sure you're taking this seriously. At least, your character is ridiculous. Seriously you don't say anything about your character at all, besides him being basically god/deadpool.

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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I'm afraid I have to agree with MyW here. Not only your character blatantly godmoding and brutally overpowered, he's completely undeveloped and cliché.

Originally posted on MSPA by Kaitostrike.

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Oh come now,all you have to do is put in a place with no water and he's next to defenseless. [img]images/smilies/apple.gif[/img]
And seriousness...
I don't really expect to be let in anyway,seeing as there are much better writers here already.So,I'll say it again; [img]images/smilies/apple.gif[/img] .

Originally posted on MSPA by Lankie.

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Yeah, my character kinda stands out between all of the meatballs and demi gods. Also Myifan, that ear kill makes me cringe everytime I think about it! Like someone putting a drill in your ear [img]images/smilies/pc_bemused.gif[/img]

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Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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Alright, Kaito, since it seems you're not trying and you don't expect to get in anyways, I'll take you off the list.

Originally posted on MSPA by Baphomet.

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Take me off as well. We've got a large number of vets here and very few new players, and I'd rather let in a different vet that wants it more.

Originally posted on MSPA by Knask.

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Changed my character info a little. Most importantly I replaced Calm's weapon, because it was pretty overpowered.

Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

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[img]images/smilies/whatpumpkin.gif[/img] I will once get this character to work I swear

Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.

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Wojjan, that guy doesn't sound remotely villainous.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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oi oi, I'm interested in signing up, just wanted to see if I could hold a spot open while I come up with character... stuff. Also am new to this. Whole thing.


*Time needed because right now, I am going to bed.

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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Sure, of course. We're still waiting on some people anyways.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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Username: slipsicle

Name: Hand of Silver (H.O.S., or Hoss)

Gender: Male

Race: Human/Cyborg

Color: [background=silver:24ak0ssc]Silver[/background:24ak0ssc]

Weapon: Main armament: synthetic left arm, which can form into a particle beam cannon, or other less destructive, more conventional weapons. Others arise from varied augmentations.

Abilities: Personal Wormhole Creation (teleportation, mostly), manipulation of Gravity, uncanny ability to manipulate and predict the flow of information, indomitable will and rationality. Hoss has also entirely replaced his internal organic hardware with more efficient synthetic versions; the only remaining vestige of his humanity is his brain. He is therefore immortal; he does not age, he does not sleep, he does not eat, drink, sicken, or even breathe. He is able to survive in many harsh environments, including vacuum. However, such extreme environments also make him vulnerable; while he operates faster in cold environments, his endurance is greatly limited, and he is likely to "starve" to death (the miniature black hole and backup fusion reactor which serve as his heart run out of fuel). In warm environments, his operational durability is greatly increased; however, he is prone to overheating, and is less able to exert himself.

Description: 5'11", wild, dirty-blond hair. Pupilless, silver eyes. Sharp, angular face. Clean-shaven, which somehow emphasizes his hard jawline. Wears a black woolen overcoat, tight black gloves. Plum-colored button-up shirt, red scarf. Black slacks. Left arm is entirely artificial; a brilliantly polished, silver-colored synthetic masterpiece. Numerous augmentations, which he keeps mostly hidden. Personality-wise, Hoss is an embodiment of what it means to be human; the good, and the bad. He is selfish, arrogant, megalomaniacal, and narcissistic. He also cares deeply for those already close to him, especially for his family, and has a strong, unshakeable faith in the superiority of humanity. He is also utterly rational, with no feeling at all for those whom he must use to achieve his goals. Howevermuch he tries to hide it, Hoss has a violent streak a mile wide; a rage which he keeps in check through meticulous logic and an indefatigable capability to see his goals achieved. It is through this that his legendary brutality can see some release. He is also xenophobic; where a white supremacist would espouse the glory of the Aryan race and the inferiority of others, so Hoss would do for humanity. Additionally, Hoss enjoys his women.

Hoss is at his strongest when surrounded by any technological infrastructure, and functions best in large metropolises, where anonymity can be a reality.

History: Hoss is from a universe very similar to ours. He began as a username on an Internet messageboard; a post by "Hand Of Silver" on a small hacker's board offered a sizeable sum of money to whomever could successfully hack his computer in a certain time frame. Many of the members, being board moderators, already had all the information they required to begin. All failed. Several months later, H.O.S. appeared again at an international convention of Internet security enthusiasts, taking control of every computing device in the building, and proving that he had already successfully infiltrated every network in the world.

H.O.S. then began a global information war, making his presence known in all walks of digital life. His goal was total freedom and pervasiveness of information and the Internet; some thought this was merely to facilitate ease of access to every person in the world for himself, others thought his goals truly noble.

Regardless of his motivations, after ten years of total digital control, "Hoss", as he was then known, had become a household name. A whole generation of humanity had grown up with him in constant view; either as a villain or a hero. It was then that he revealed himself to humanity.

With technology well above what humanity had currently achieved, an appearance both alien and familiar, and an intoxicating personality, Hoss capitalized on his already global fame and pushed for Humanity to expand beyond the Earth. He founded a new nation, called the "Terran Nation", and set up a temporary colony on the Moon. Eventually, some countries began to rally to his cause; his main target being any country on the Equator. Once that goal was achieved, Hoss began construction of the first Space Elevator, using labor provided by the loyal nations he'd gathered around him.

(Around this time, Hoss made an offer to his family: to become immortal, like himself. Only his sister accepted. Hoss did not make this public, and his sister faded into obscurity.)

Hoss then provided an option for those countries which refused to join him to retain their sovereignty (since his goal had always been one United Earth), and gave incentives for them to colonize other planets in the Solar System, even going so far as to give them ships and terraforming utilities, which they grudgingly accepted. Any nations or people which refused to either join or vacate were promptly decimated.

500 years later, after Hoss had successfully formed the Terran Empire, and the planets of the Solar System were fully colonized, he began to continue his expansionist policy, moving the borders of his Empire ever outwards, and pushing those whom would not cede to his demands to expand and colonize beyond his growing reach. The first extra-solar colonies were established by populations fleeing his rule; entirely in line with his plans.

Hoss continued much in this way, eventually forming the Star Empire of Sol, naming himself Emperor Sol I. He ruled for 50,000 years, ensuring that humanity had spread to every corner of the galaxy. If there had been other intelligent life, the Empire would have conquered and subjugated it entirely. Fortunately, humanity appeared to be the only form of intelligence in existence.

It wasn't until one billion years after Hoss's initial introduction to the public that his plan became clear: the Human Race, having finally escaped the confines of the Milky Way, was all-pervasive in the universe. Isolation, harsh environments, and time eventually saw the rise of speciation, and humanity became the seed of all intelligent life in the universe. The genetic progeny of mankind littered existence, and every species remembered its common ancestor, viewing them with reverence and respect. This was Hoss's true gift to humanity, regardless of the cost: to have his species immortalized until the energy-death of the universe.

Hoss, now the only human in all of known existence (aside from his sister, but they had long since been out of contact, so for all he knew she was dead), spends his days back on Earth, the birthplace of intelligent life, wallowing in nostalgia. The man who had set into motion a plan which changed the face of the universe, and whom, for the past billion years, had guided the future of every living thing, is now devoid of purpose, devoid of civilization, devoid of species. He is well and truly alone.

... and is then, without warning, whisked away from his universe.

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SpoilerWill that do?

Also, the competition seems pretty freakin' awesome.

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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'S awesome.

Although...breaking whole planets? That's a tad overpowered. You only have to change that lil canon, though.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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'S awesome.

Although...breaking whole planets? That's a tad overpowered. You only have to change that lil canon, though.

Fix'd.

Also, it should be noted that most of his tech-stuff only functions because of the millions of years worth of external infrastructure that he'd built up. If he's cut off from it all... well, he's got a pretty limited fuel capacity. Shooting particle beams uses up a *lot* of that fuel. Also no wormholes, because their generators were also external. And some other stuff that I'll end up figuring out will also not work.

Don't worry, I aim to get him seriously fucked up. He'll probably even lose his arm by the end of this, since it uses up a metric shit-ton of his fuel reserves, he might have to scrap it. This is more about his personality than what gadgets he brings with him.

He built himself up from nothing once, and he can do it again.

Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.

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SpoilerSo I'm not going to co-host this since combining the Cultivator stuff and what I had planned out was going to be too complex, so I added a bit of backstory to the second post to get rid of any consistency errors with my posts in the Grand Battle. It's probably completely irrelevant, but you still might want to read it.

[img]images/smilies/mspa_face.gif[/img]

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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After what seemed like an eternity, or at least half, the Cultivator stood up and stretched. She had combed through pretty much every reality she could think of for the dastardly and the infamous. Yes, a few times, she had gotten a little off track...there were just too many interesting beings out there! It was too bad most of them couldn't be called villains. And that there were only eight spots.

After a little more yoga to wake up her legs, the Cultivator glanced around, trying to find something in all the clutter. Where...where...there! Vaulting over a stuffed hippo, the Cultivator started kicking away some odds and ends until she uncovered a small pot that sported only a sprout.

Once the pot was uncovered, the sprout started to grow. The Cultivator backed away carefully as the sprout seemed to somehow grow into a sapling and then into a tree shaped rather like a candelabrum. Giant buds formed at the tip of each branch and as the Cultivator floated up to their level, they opened to reveal eight slightly bewildered contestants. It wasn't everyday you somehow wound up inside a giant flower in front of a mysterious floating lady.

"Hello, I'm The Cultivator~" she chirped with a cheerful grin. It was around this time that the eight beings found they couldn't move. Some started yelling protests or demanding answers until they suddenly couldn't speak as well.

"Now, now, calm down," the Cultivator said even though she had already forced them all to stop talking. "We won't get anywhere if you don't let me explain, hm?" With a dramatic flourish, she stretched her arms wide to each side. "Welcome! Out of all the beings I could choose from, you, yes, you, were the best of the best! Or, I should say, the best of the worst! You are all notorious or blood-thirsty or deficient of morals in some way, you bad boys you~ And girl," she hastily added. "So congratulations! You've been chosen to compete in the Savage Brawl!"

The only response were some very blank expressions.

"Basically, you all kill each other! I'll send you to a lot of different places. When one of you dies, the rest goes on to the next arena place. It's really great! Really exciting stuff. Anyways..." With two claps, the lights went out, if there were any lights to begin with. From the darkness, the Cultivator continued. "...I'll have to formally introduce you all to each other, right? Since you'll be killing each other and all!"

A spotlight suddenly shone on a thin, almost non-descript man. Still unable to move or speak, he settled with sternly glaring at the darkness. "This guy's Calm. Like, that's his name, not his state of being. Ha! Though I suppose that joke's been done already, hm? Anyways, he's made a deal with the devil, and that's not a figure of speech. See that knife there? If he hits you with it, it'll give you, like, a third degree burn. Although it goes above one thousand Celsius...that sounds way above third degree. Like...fifth? But anyways, I'd suggest you avoid it."

Next, a light shined on another man, also stern-faced. He seemed to be dressed for winter. His most interesting feature were his silver, pupilless eyes. "This fella's a tyrant guy called Hand of Silver, though you can call him Hoss. It'd be strange to just keep calling him 'Hand of Silver' all the time. If you're wondering why he's called 'Hand of Silver,' well, if I had to guess, it'd be that fake arm. As well as all those other cyborg parts. It can be pretty destructive, by the way, the arm, I mean. He has all sort of cool stuff like teleportation and gravity stuff. So, moving on!"

Next was what looked like a large gob of sewage slime. It blinked several beady eyes in the bright light before they seemed to sink out of sight. "This one's really interesting! Ekelhaft, gentlemen! ...And lady! I'm really inclined to call it a he even though it doesn't really have a gender. An avatar of decay created by a god on a forgotten world. He pretty much destroyed everything on his planet and seemed a little bored so I thought he'd like some fun, hm? You wouldn't want to stick near him very long 'cause he has this aura thing that'll make you go insane. Also, he's acidic. Also, uh...wait..." In the short pause...nothing happened. "...Um, well, he also has teeth and stuff. They're sharp. I guess you'll find out soon. I don't actually know how fast it goes, but I guess you'll find that out too."

The spotlight then shone on a taller man, disturbingly stained with blood. He was completely featureless. "Now this guy's Ziirphael. He's like an old god of death, which I guess explains the blood, though I'd think gods would have some time to dryclean. Or maybe it's aesthetics? Really, if you're running around killing people all the time, you should at least have clean clothes. Anyways, he has shape-shifting powers. Like, he can form his arms into guns and stuff. Plus, he's probably had years of experience with killing people. Maybe he can kill you with his thumb? Or someone else's thumb?"

Next was a blonde woman in a lab coat. She was holding a large gun rather tensely. "This is Dr. Anarchy and man do I love her goggles. Really cool. I should get some. Do you think they'll look good on me?" No answer. Even if the Cultivator had let them answer, they probably wouldn't say anything. "Anyways, she's a mad scientist. That thing in her arms? A death ray! On her back is a jetpack. She made them herself, of course. She's smart like that. She actually turned to mad-scientry because she was pretty bored. I know that feeling. I think I'd like to chat with her sometime. I guess if she doesn't die."

The light shined on a cloaked skeleton next. He was equipped with various cybernetic parts. "This guy is the great Konka Rar. He has a really funny name for a cyborg lich. He's the creator of a contestant in another battle who's really interesting but I won't get into that. Anyways, he knows lots of magic and technology stuff. Those cyborg parts aren't just for show. As you can probably tell, at one point he died and was brought back to life. I actually don't know much about killing a skeleton, but I'm sure one of you will figure something out~"

As soon as the light shined on the next contestant, the Cultivator burst out into giggles. It was easy to see why, looking at the large, sentient meatball. It stood on noodle appendages and glared at the laughing woman with its large, red eye. "Sorry, sorry," she gasped, wiping away a tear. "I know, I'm sorry, um, this is Gormand. I'm also inclined to call it a he. He's a meatball, with some spaghetti strands. Um. I know he looks delicious, but you shouldn't eat him. He also has an 'aura,' but it's a virus that turns stuff into meat. Don't stay around him too long either. He can also make these drones. Made out of meat. Maybe you could eat those instead. Also, he's not actually as soft as he looks. Seriously, you might break your teeth on him. And don't try the spaghetti either. It'll probably choke you."

The eighth man blinked bewilderedly in the bright light. "This guy's Diego Red. He has some really nice spiky hair...I'm sure it won't like, cut you or anything. Hair isn't that sharp," she said consolingly, as though she actually believed someone would think hair could be sharp. "Anyways, this guy has air magic! He can do stuff with vibrations and, uh, I know he looks quite normal, but he's actually quite strong. You can do a lot with a little control over air. Otherwise, why would he be here? He has a nickname, the, uh, hm...earworm! Diego "The Earworm" Red. He has a sword, but I never saw him use it."

With every contestant properly introduced, the eight lights turned off once more. "Now don't worry," the Cultivator's voice rang soothingly in the blackness. "I'm sure you'll all do fine. It'll be exciting!" Suddenly, the contestants had a strange, weightless feeling, almost as if they were not anywhere, as if their atoms had scattered and the only thing left was their conscious. Then, equally as suddenly, they were all dumped in a rather dank cavern. A dark river ran sluggishly by. Littering the floor were several bodies of what seemed to be the same person.

"This is...the Underworld! You're all not dead yet and I'm not entirely sure what happens if you do die here...but I guess that'll be interesting to find out, huh? Don't die too quickly though, it's a game after all~ Try exploring! Or looting! You might find some helpful stuff."

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SpoilerSo yeah, Afterlife. There's not much else to say unless you want me to repeat myself. There's Styx, there're caves, there're several bodies of Hank. Go crazy.

Also, Ix, you can use just red. You don't have to use a background color.

Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.

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Ekelhaft, to its credit, took being ripped out ofits home of eons, dropped into a mysterious cave, and told to kill for the amusement of a clearly-unstable woman in stride. It was in a place where there were things and people and minds to break, a world that wasn't the flat, empty plane its home had been reduced to, and above all a place that wouldn't sap away Ekelhart's own existence by dint of its emptiness. Inasmuch as the slime creature had emotions, it was... incredibly happy. A burbling, sloshing noise emanated from its noisome body, the closest thing to laughing it was capable of.

Eyes popped out of every inch of its surface, taking in the surrounding area and its prey. The round mound that was Ekelhaft's resting posture extended upwards and grew a pair of pseudopods; it was about man-height now, with tentacley arms. Eyes spun and sunk and resurfaced, sizing up the terrain and people around it, deciding who would be its first victim. So many of them were unknown quantities, but... A good portion of its eyes settled on Konka Rar; Ekelhaft knew about magic. Moving surprisingly quickly, it oozed past Dr. Anarchy, not overtly hostile until it was within a few feet of Rar; once it was within leaping distance, however, its arms grew serrated, sharklike teeth along the underside, and it launched itself at the lich, bladed tentacles swinging.

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SpoilerSorry to start things off so violently, but I couldn't really justify not for this guy.

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

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[background=#800080:2fvfysln]The Cultivator backed away carefully as the sprout seemed to somehow grow into a sapling and then into a tree shaped rather like a candelabrum.[/background:2fvfysln]

Also, Ix, you can use just red. You don't have to use a background color.

Man. I thought by now everyone knew the correct singular form of candlabra. [img]images/smilies/mspa_face.gif[/img]

As for the colour, fair enough. I only swapped in an attempt to be better distinguishable from Aryogaton's now uninvolved character.

Ziirphael climbed to his feet and surveyed the area. He was in a wide open cavern. It looked ancient. Huge stalactites hung from the ceiling, with the occasional stalagmite rising up to meet it. The air was cold against his skin, and his body shivered involuntarily. Glancing behind him he saw a lake of black water that stretched off into the distance. Ziir reached down and took a stone from the rocky floor. He threw it, skimming it along the surface of the dark water. He might have smiled wistfully if he had a mouth. Well maybe not smiled, maybe the corner of his mouth might have faintly rised just a little. He couldn't see any signs of his competitors in the immediate vicinity. He had grasped the idea of this competition pretty quickly. He had been a gladiator in the Roman colliseum. Those had been simpler days of course. The rush of adrenaline, and the giddy thrill as his opponent's blood engulfed his hands. He even got a cheer. It was one of the rare times anyone ever cheered him while in the act of murder. Ziir absentmindedly wondered if anyone would cheer when the first of these contestants died. He picked his way across the rocks to a body. He instinctively knew it was a body, though there was no obvious signs. It could simply have been a man having a rest, sitting on the rocks, but Ziir always knew. It was part of who he was. He approached the corpse. The man was pretty non-descript. He was holding onto an oar, very tightly. Ziir prised his fingers off the oar and laid his hands across his chest. He lay the man down to sleep, closing his bloodshot eyes. He would have buried the man, but for the rock on which he trod. This would have to do.

Ziir sat down next to the man and gazed thoughtfully into the distance. This was the place he had sent so many men. He hadn't expected it to be so literal. He felt no regret. In fact a part of him rued that he could no longer feel the same thrill from another man's death. Things had been so easy when he had been mindless; death incarnate. But still, that was him no longer. He wondered where the man's soul was now. Extinguished, gone forever, just an infinite sea of blackness? Or an Underworld under this one. He sat there and pondered for a little while, twisting the oar between his fingers. He wondered what he might do when he found one of his competitors...

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SpoilerEdited for correctness.

Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

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SpoilerWhoooooops. Usually I'm good with that. Oh well.

Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.

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Hoss does not immediately focus on the strange (and possibly human) woman, nor does he give much attention to his fellow contestants. Hoss, you see, is distracted by the critical failure of nearly all of his internal systems.

When the Cultivator ripped Hoss from his universe, every microwormhole link which fed his various internal generators and provided him with reaction mass was cut off. Snapped, in fact. Catastrophically.

Wormholes, being tightly interwoven threads of gravitational stress-bands, are best shut down sequentially; each thread must be carefully "untied" from the collective knot, otherwise Bad Things happen.

Bad Things, unfortunately for Hoss, have happened. The multitude of stress-bands whip apart, spewing reaction mass, plasma, and various other exotic substances used to power and contain Hoss's intricate insides. Within microseconds, his teleportation capabilities, graviton generators, and holographic projectors are offline. Hoss uses what little power he can spare to activate his internal newmatter fabricators, which begin a repair sequence, attempting to contain the worst of the damage.

As Hoss takes in his internal damage report, one entry stands out, eliciting a mental curse:

Magnetic Containment failing

The as-of-yet untold damage wreaked upon his cybernetic organs has penetrated Hoss's "heart"; a miniature black hole. Should the magnetic containment fail, the black hole would no longer maintain its static position, and come screaming out Hoss's body along an unpredictable path, before detonating in a blast of Hawking radiation.

Hoss desperately battles with failing power conduits, runaway feedback loops, and dwindling newmatter supplies to stabilize his fluttering "heart".

It is, however, not enough. A stray alpha particle smashes through a critical feed system, and Hoss's overall power levels drop drastically. He can no longer maintain the black hole as a viable power source, and must sever all systems which draw power from it, diverting its remaining anti-matter "fuel" to the newmatter fabricators, which use this last burst of power to repair the black hole's magnetic containment field.

Having lost his "heart", Hoss switches to his backup fusion generator as he regains control over his body. He reluctantly performs a final systems check, already knowing what he'll find: a miniature black hole sitting in his chest, dormant, useless. An empty newmatter supply. Over 80% of his, previously formidable, systems offline. It is, however, the final item which moves Hoss to feel something he had not felt in eons: fear.

In the struggle to repair the unintentional devastation caused by the Cultivator's trans-universal abduction, Hoss was limited by what little reaction mass and power he had with him just after he lost his wormhole links. He used most of his reserves to prevent his immediate and violent death. Unfortunately, this means that his backup fusion generator is left with... well, very little. As Hoss glares at his remaining estimated operational endurance, an endurance measured in mere hours, one thing becomes clear: Hoss's first priority is to find more reaction mass.

It is at this point that Hoss brings his awareness back to the outside world.

Hoss is alone, on a featureless shore. In front of him is an impenetrably black body of water. Normally, Hoss would simply scan his surroundings for viable materials, but that would take too much power. He is reduced to a manual search. Hoss points himself in an arbitrary direction, and begins walking; as he does so, he begins to play back all that his external sensory pickups had recorded since the... event, and after only a few seconds, nearly staggers in shock.

Humans!

Glorious, bipedal, organic, living breathing humans!

It takes Hoss little time to guess how this might be possible. The fact that his wormhole links had been severed pointed towards a... vacation... from his universe. Hoss spares some processing power to scold himself for never once considering that a multiverse might exist; that maybe the seed of humanity could be spread not just through one universe, but through every universe.

He is not sure about man the Cultivator called "Calm"; a deal with "the devil" is mentioned. Hoss digs back through millions of years of data, to an entry from pre-Diaspora Earth, regarding an extinct mass-delusion known as "Religion"; several versions of this delusion referenced something known as a "devil" or "The Devil". If Calm truly made a deal with such a being, and this being actually exists in Calm's universe, his humanity is therefore cast into doubt; true Humans make do without the supernatural. The same conclusion is reached for "Diego", leaving Hoss's current viable target, the self-proclaimed "Dr. Anarchy", the subject of Hoss's machinations.

Hoss continues walking, a veritable saunter creeping into his previously mechanical gait, and what might be the shadow of a grin passing over his face. An observer may not know it, but Hoss is pleased.

Hand of Silver, formerly last of the Human Race, destitute of goals and species, has a purpose once more.