Battle Fighting Contest

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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.

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Username: Agenmagicks
Name: Worth Lestine
Species: The Lover
Gender: Both/neither
Color: #F08080
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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.