The Grand OC! [CONTEST XXX: HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEN]

Username: sol
Name: Parei
Species: Monster, Sougthern
Gender: Femme
Color: pink lmao
Description: Parei is, at her base form, looks as humanoid as any monster can, with two arms, two legs, and a body that is proportioned similarly to a woman of above average weight. She wears a triangular witch hat and a black robe, which, like most monsters, is not actually clothing, but part of her body. Her eyes are two pink, pupil-less circles. She has a wonderful and engrossing smile with more teeth than you can keep track of.

Parei is a mischievous monster, erring on the side of sadistic entertainment when at a crossroads. She can however, hide this side to her, usually preferring to come off as a sort of clumsy buffoon, and endearing others with what seems to be innocent over-enthusiasm.

Weapons/Abilities: Besides whatever odd magical gifts that being a pure-blooded citizen of the Sougthern Districts net you (for the record, endurance both physical and magical, innate knowledge of hidden magic, being able to have a lot of stamina if you do a single task again and again), Parei's specific sort of mythical witchy flair involves the ability to make others perceive random or unknown events as something significant to them. A random arrangement of flowers become a sign pointing in whatever direction, an odd smell becomes one reminiscent of a lost relative, the rube-goldberg style chain of events becomes a conspiracy against you, specifically. The actual consequences of this magic can vary, especially depending on her intent, but generally it will be believed by whoever she wishes to believe it, unless they have a strong conviction otherwise.

Biography: Parei was in a bar, she wasn't sure which or where because she had been thrown into it after the last incident blew up in her face. That said, this night was pretty boring so far, and she wishes that she didn't get blown so far, they may have seen through her, but they at least they were interesting about it.

Parei took another sip of her drink as she observed the bar, looking for any sort of conflict that could get escalated with one of her flicks. The bar was quiet, with only her, the bartender, and a two, three, or four patrons, she wasn't sure if one of them was twins or something else, they seemed to be less than alive, so that was another thing that could be throwing her off.

Then, the door started to rumble. "Well, this is better than nothing." Everyone stared at the door, each of them thinking that the sound of the rumbling was indicative or someone or something they recognized.

When the actual creature entered the room, they all wished it was something recognizable. Instead, through the doors came something that was clearly not even using the definition of alive that the non-Parei bar patrons were using, but still moving, if slowly through the bar. Everyone was unexpectedly stricken with fear as the creature advanced, even Parei which caused a new set of problems.

As Parei's power was once more, this time accidentally, used on the creature, the already scared patrons of the bar became terrified as they saw the creature's skin or fur or moss or whatever suddenly gain patterns reminiscent of their fears.

The bar went to chaos, a chaos that was multiplied with every new entity that came out of the "twin ghost," Parei watched in an amused horror as smaller and smaller variants spread to every corner of the bar. It was funny to her, and she would have started laughing if one of them hadn't run into the creature.

The moment she observed the ghost touch the creature and dissolved into the floor, she jumped up off her seat and jumped out the window, and then proceeded to run, never for a moment thinking about what could have happened, where the creature could have came from, and definitely not thinking about looking back.

Username: No one's writing this.
Name: There isn't one.
Race: None, there's no character here.
Gender: Inapplicable.
Color: If there were a character, they'd have white on a black background.
Biography: There's no backstory here. This battle only has seven contestants. Everyone distinctly remembers seven introductions, including themselves. There was never an eighth. Or was there? No, there couldn't have been.
But didn't the host say something about eight... that can't be right, it must have been seven.

Items and Abilities: As there is no contestant, there can be no abilities. There certainly can't be any abilities that would allow them to erase almost all memory of their existence from others.

Description: There's nothing to describe, as there is no contestant. Hypothetically speaking, though, if there were a contestant with memory-erasing abilities, they would be highly manipulative and would probably use their powers to claim an advantageous position in the local environment, and set up some form of trap for the other battlers who are thoroughly unaware of their existence.
Of course, since there's no eighth contestant, such a thing cannot possibly happen, so there's nothing to worry about.

Biography: Large enough to fill a universe yet at the same time small enough to stand upon the head of a pin. Impossible right? Most would agree. I find it's merely a matter of perspective. Here is a wall, is it solid, is it strong? Is it rough or smooth? Does it even exist at all? With the right frame of mind it can be any and all things. Just look at it from the right direction and it can be whatever you want. Oh but others are so blind. They see through but one set of eyes. Such weakness of vision is so easily obscured, or perhaps enlightened.A little bit of doubt is all I need to bring them around to one of my modes of vision, though I doubt they'll appreciate the gift. It can be so shocking for some to realise that everything they've worked so hard to believe in dissapears the second they look away. In every universe there is a game to be played. And in every game there are rules to be observed and obeyed by every simpering, slobbering moron and his pet dog. All these people, oh they called me mad, they called me deranged, demented, damaged, sick, and even crazy. They don't seem to realize their own insanity. Every rule every stricture every single goddamned guideline they follow blindly and to the letter. Oh the fools the fools the hopeless fools. But I am above them, I'm a god and I never follow the rules.

I am the epitome of sophistication, intllectual, smartly dressed. I might also look like a washed up hobo, or a dedicated scientist, clothes after all are just masks. They are tricks of perspective, designed to convince oursleves we aren't naked. I have shiny black hair, or is it scraggly and white? I guess it's really all how you look at it, I suppose I can maintain one visage if it is really THAT hard to tell. Here, I'll give you a tip, you can recognize me by my winning smile. After all, I'm always winning! :Description

Name: I am Vision, that is all you need to know
Username: Green claims to be a puppetmaster, but he is at the same time, a puppet.



Species: GOD AHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!
Gender: Mine!_______________________Color: Whatever I damn well please.



Weapons/Abilities: I can change perspective on things. I can appear to walk through walls, hit you with things that don't exist. Become whatever size I wish, change the world to my everchanging whim (at least on an individual basis). The floor may very well be lava good sir. Yes that man is on fire, would you like to see what he's seeing?

Username: Schazer
Name: Talasarch
Race: God of the lower pantheon
Gender: Neuter-he
Color: Sunset boulevard

Description: Talasarch's mortal form comprises about ten feet of well-built snake, with a vaguely-draconic/seal-like face, fabulous eyelashes, bristly whiskers, and a crown of tangled antlers in which four bird-shaped blobs of light flit about. His scales are dull blue, the color of the night sky just before the first stars come out. From his throat, along his belly, and to the tip of his tail runs a band of true darkness, from which any number of similarly pure-black limbs freely sprout. His preferred locomotion is the stately undulations of a millipede, but when unduly excited he'll drag himself and rapidly scramble along and over anything in his path.

Being the founder and chancellor-for-life of the finest university Praeterwater, and boasting a full university's worth of research staff at his disposal, he's got a hell of an ego and tends to sulk when there's nobody to boss around. He's polite to authority if they maintain transparency and avoid cramping his scientist style, but by deific standards, he's a petulant child when he doesn't get his way.

If he locks eyes with his reflection on any reflective surface, the two swap places. Talasarch's reflection operates independently of the original, but cannot exert any forces on the world unless there's an observer to its antics. This means it can be trapped in a room, unable to open a door or break a window until there's someone who can see it do the above in a reflection. It can be said to simultaneously exist and not exist throughout any contiguous space that a nine-foot snake could squeeze through, but if said space is split in two (a bathroom door closed off to a mirrorless hallway, for example), the reflection will be restricted to the space with a reflective surface.

Talasarch's reflection, in contrast to the real deal, is irritable, rude, and more prone to violence (but still prefers to talk things out, and he'll still treat university property like it's his own). Any newcomers to the university who meet him are duly informed by him that he's the real Talasarch, and the sham one wandering around escaped the mirrors. If you see the reflection, though, rest assured you're more-or-less physically sharing the room with 9 feet of invisible, bad-tempered godlizard.


Weapons/Abilities: He's a god of the domains of Discoveries, Rivers and Mirrors, and through sufficient quantities of these elements he gains the power, via Acts, to shape reality to his godly will (the reflection, however, cannot). Talasarch doesn't have much practice at it, as he's spent most of his existence in a mortal form which makes most of his Acts only work on a local scale. He's biologically immortal, and is incapable of dying by stupid accident. Someone who wants to kill him, understanding he's a personfication of certain aspects, won't have this problem due to the "godslayer narrative" clause in reality.

The Talasarch outside the mirror doesn't instinctively know where the mirror-self is, which can prove inconvenient. Because the mirror-self retains the ability to dissipate for a day and reappear in a reflective surface near Talasarch Alpha, Talasarch is not at liberty to travel further than the university grounds. He's only free to leave the sanctum when his aides have confirmed the doppel's manifestation somewhere in the mirrors, and even then only for a half-day at most. The mirror-self cannot act on the real Talasarch's physical form, but can indirectly hurt it through dropped/thrown objects.


Biography: Talasarch was one of the most recent immigrant gods to Middle Ocean and the Praeterwater, and one of the younger "civilised" ones who especially stood to benefit from the systems set up therein. He didn't have to worry about setting up afterlives or balancing an ecosystem, he could just mess around with mortals and work at a scale a bit friendlier to the apotheotically ascended. His first order of business was creating mortals in his image, the Talas-men, and then building with the devout a lovely commune-iversity at the base of a waterfall. The Talasarchon cave network eventually expanded up the cliffside into Univer City, capital of the Talas-men.

Talasarch's reflection always roved around the inner sanctums of the university (unable to escape due to a large "No Mirrors" zone), but didn't become especially belligerent until some weird magic research went down a couple years back. After that incident, Talasarch's reflection has been quite vocal about how he's unfairly incarcerated. A few close aides to the godling have the sneaking suspicion the one in the mirror's swapped a couple times, but life and research has gone on either way so nobody complains.

This is a reminder that you have uhh, tonight and up until I get back from lab tomorrow to submit something, if you want to maybe? Which'll be around like 3 PM PST or so.

Username: Garuru
Name: Lola Marble and the Entity
Gender: Female and Unknown
Race: Human and Fourth-Dimensional Entity
Color: #AA4400
Biography: Her world was technologically advanced, to the point of being capable of messing with quantum mechanics to achieve the desired outcome of a single decision anywhen in time, for example. Scientists of her world had recently discovered an ominous rip in space, which was exuding dangerously active particles, the likes of which had never been seen before in this universe. More such rips were subsequently discovered. Further research revealed they were in fact microscopic entities, exhibiting an unusual sense of intelligence for a molecular-based phenomenon, and even further research was conducted, showing that they had the tendency to clump, forming a progressively advanced hive mind. Scientific pursuit of knowledge boomed with new promises across the horizon, especially the possibility of an alternate universe, but was later quickly halted after the cataclysmic loss of an entire planet. The study of these particles, aptly named demonology, became quickly banned and therefore taboo. The rifts were cordoned off, determined too dangerous to even attempt to destroy. But the intrigue proved too much for young intrepid Lola, whose research station strayed too closely to one of the malicious rifts. Her station shut down autonomously, and the particles invaded her ship, instantly infecting every biological organism on board. However, for unknown reasons, they were left alive and their memories wiped of the event. Her ship continued exploring the galaxy in search of the mysterious Demon Rifts, but to no avail. Eventually, her crew started dying one by one, leaving her to be the last one alive, frantically searching for a cure, until finally losing hope.

Description: Lola used to be a young and curvy scientist a bit on the short side, and with a zeal for discovery, but she is now a pale husk of her former self. Half of her body has been taken over by the odd orange particles, and they are the only thing keeping her alive. She does not know why they will not let her die, but her existence with them has been miserable to say the least. She has been scouring the galaxy, searching for a cure, but everywhere she went, her disease spread to the local people, and they died much more quickly than her. She has since then resigned herself to isolation. Her eyes are a sickly orange, and she is extremely unhealthy.

Items/Abilities: The particles are eating away at her flesh, but the organ most affected is her mind. She is no longer capable of distinguishing her mind from the mind of the demonic entity possessing parts of her body. Thus, her view switches back and forth between her own vision, and the incomprehensible one of the entity, presumably of the realm the entity came from. Sometimes, they will be an absurdly lucid blend of both. Occasionally, she will wake up in some extrasolar colony, blood all over the walls. No matter how she tries to isolate herself, this will happen. The real issue with the entity appears to be that it can freely manipulate space as long as its universe is still connected with Lola's universe. If, say, the particular colony in Lola's body were to be isolated, the entity would presumably become of a much more limited intelligence, as well as slowly dying off. It would try to save itself. Of course, Lola doesn't need to know this.

Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Lady Wilhelmina Pell
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Colour: a nice purple (#412A42)
Biography: Wilhemina, or Will as she prefers to be called, was something of a tomboy from a young age. As the only daughter of Lord and Lady Pell she could go more or less wherever she wanted. She was however forbidden from entering the Grey Woods for it was believed that Fae lived inside. So naturally, one day when she was about nine Will snuck off into the Grey Woods to see if she could find one of these Fae that she had heard of. She found one, or rather one found her. She remembers its voice more than anything; sickly sweet and as thick as treacle. It was nice and pleasant until it got near enough to grab her and then she was dragged screaming through the trees while it tittered with laughter. In the middle of a circle of mushrooms in a clearing the fae lifted her by her throat and then everything just seemed to cease.

Nobody noted her absence until that evening. A search party was immediately formed, but even so it was almost a full day before anyone found her; screaming and insensible, her arm and neck marked with dark purple bruises which have not healed since. Most alarmingly though was the fact that she wasn’t responding to any stimulus. She continued to kick and scream and sob intermittently even after she got back to Valenhal and was with her mother and father. A doctor was called to help but he couldn’t seem to find anything physically wrong with her, much less help her.

Many healers tried to fix what was wrong with poor Wilhelmina but all failed. In his desperation Lord Pell even requested the aid of a witchdoctor from a distant land; who was finally able to offer an explanation. It was something he had come across only once or twice before; he believed that some kind of Fae had stolen her senses. He was able to provide a pair of enchanted pearls, which when implanted allowed her to see again, but was unable to offer any solution to her other missing senses. He collected his reward and left.

For a while afterwards Will became quite introverted. She had spent over a month completely cut off from any sense of the outside world, even from any sense of her own body. At times she’d wanted to die, at other times she thought maybe she was. Time passed and she slowly started to come out of her shell again. Despite lacking her other senses she was able to learn to cope with just her sight. She quickly learned to lip read for easy communication with others. The most difficult part for her was her loss of touch; the loss of sensation made minor everyday tasks awkward and fiddly. With practice she was able to regain a certain level of motor control (though she’s still not very good if she can’t see what she’s trying to do). Also of note, with the loss of touch went the ability to feel pain. Given this and her admitted clumsiness it might have been expected that she would live a more placid lifestyle, but Will was not to be deterred. As soon as she was old enough to make her own decisions she left Valenhal and travelled, seeking to learn more of the Fae.

She learned about where they might be found and how they might be appeased, and most of all she learned how they might be driven away or even openly fought. She became a Fae Hunter of sorts. Though there was no money in it, sometimes she would receive a warm welcome and a free board in a village which had been having trouble with the Fae, though just as often not and she would rough it. Occasionally she would take a bounty against a mortal man to make ends meet. Eventually she was taken to fight in a battle to the death.

Description: Will is in her early twenties; she’s of medium height, thin (a little too thin for her own health) with very pale skin smattered here and there with freckles. She has short flame red hair, which is pretty poorly maintained; clumsily cut, patchy and uneven. A person’s attention would most likely be drawn first to her eyes, framed as they are by clumsy red surgical scars which have never healed properly. Where her eyes should be there is a pair of enchanted pearls; their shiny white surface giving her an unnerving blank gaze. Along the forearm and around the wrist of her right arm and around her throat there are large purple bruises that look as fresh as the day they were made. Even putting aside the aforementioned Will couldn’t have been described as conventionally attractive; she was too gaunt in the face and her features a little too sharp.

She tends to wear clothing which is culturally perceived as more masculine, typically a leather jerkin, a sleeveless top, trousers and boots. She has no qualms about letting her bruises show; though she used to be self-conscious of them she eventually accepted them and got over it.
Will is confident and determined. She’s not easily perturbed and is personable enough, though strictly pragmatic when a situation calls for it. She hunts Fae not for some sense of revenge, though she might be entitled to such, but because she thinks that one day she might find a way to return her senses, and to a lesser extent that she can help people whilst she does this. She is rather acutely afraid of death, more so than a normal person because of her month spent senseless, which she sometimes thinks of as a death she recovered from. However she thinks it’s more important to enjoy life and make it count. In terms of combat Will will very rarely directly engage anyone. Her lack of senses would be a liability in open combat. She prefers to act stealthily and attack from afar if necessary.

Equipment/Abilities: She has a small crossbow and quiver attached to her belt. She has a selection of different crossbow bolts; the majority are iron or steel, with a couple of silver bolts and a single gold bolt that she hasn’t really found any use for but she figured it would be handy just in case. She carries a backpack filled with travel necessities; some basic provisions, a bedroll, a handful of iron nails, a pair of iron horseshoes, a few preserved cuttings of St. John’s Wort, a pair of handmirrors and a handbell blessed by a priest.

Recently she’s discovered that her encounter with the Fae that took her senses have left her the ability to craft Fae glamours. She’s not very good at it yet, her illusions are small and don’t last very long, but she’s been practicing and she’s getting better. They are strictly visual illusions at the moment because she’d have no way to perceive the effectiveness of any other sensory illusions.

Okay well this is a little bit late and I'm really sorry for that but here we go, in no particular order.

Dalm gets The I See What You Did Award because I feel like entering an audio file and nothing else seemed geared towards confusing me? Or maybe some creative usage of the theme? But I wasn't really confused, and there wasn't really a profile. I feel like there could definitely have been something here but it felt too insubstantial to work.

Garuru gets The Synergy Award-- I feel like Lola'd be interesting with most of the illusionists because it'd mean, in some sense, that their illusions might not work on her, or that they'd have to compete with the extradimensional entity to mess with her mind. I kinda like the idea of there being some weird confluence of illusions, at least.

The Backdoor Worldbuilding Award goes to Schazer, because a world where gods casually flit down to the realm of mortals sounds interesting, and the setting's very strongly evocative. The character's also really good too.

For Solaris, they receive The Diligent Gentleman Award, as their character's ability might have like an neat way of incorporating backstory in what others see that's significant. It'd be an interesting way of cohesively meshing things, I think? I dunno but I feel like she'd be neat in a battle.

Fogel receives The Iron Chef Special Ingredient Award, by incorporating the illusory aspect into the profile itself, but doing it in a kinda classy way. I dunno I liked it.

The Above the Fold Award goes to Bigro. I, uh, I don't have an explanation for this one, honestly. It's a gut feeling and that's the best explanation I can offer, sorry.

The 20Q Award for Confusing Me is for Truegreen. This one's a little bit pigeonholed, as I wasn't really that confused by Vision, but the profile made me raise an eyebrow? Which is a little bit close to confusion, so it's got that going for it. It seems like it's got a lot of the mad god archetypes and I'm not sure I can really like, judge how well it pulls it off.

The last award's The Best Of Show Award which goes to Ixcaliber. Wilhelmina can't really be pigeonholed into the other awards-- she could fit into several of them sorta, but not really into one specifically. But she's interesting and has a lot going for her and is technically a good profile.

Woop woop ok! I called dibs on Week 13, so prepare your cauldrons, your beer kegs, your tureens and espresso cups, because this week's theme is...

Brew.

Username: solllllllllllllllll
Name: Cuildra
Species: Majimale
Gender: It
Color: Purplely
Description: Cuildra resemble black cauldrons with golden flairs around it in the shape of a face, with three legs on the bottom. It normally travels alone, searching for abandoned homes and spaces, preferring not to have to deal with other Majimales.

Weapons/Abilities: Cuildra are metallic creatures with spiritual powers, erring on the side of trickery when forced to confront other Majimales. Besides its high defensive stats, it has a surprisingly high speed, which allows it to use its switching, swallowing, and spewing based abilities, along with various combinations there-of. Due to its low attack, it relies on whittling down on opponents or setting up for an ally in serious battles.

Biography: Nicknamed the Cuildra of Gallea Canyon, it differs from others in its family in that rather than staying in some place close to the indoors, it prefers to roll and stroll around a rocky canyon, where there are many other Majimales. When various explorers and interested parties, came to see it, they discovered that in addition to its odd personality, it also is much stronger and ingenious than other Cuildra.

While most Cuildra simply negate or reflect the moves of its opponents, this one is capable of mixing the moves it swallows, sometimes using them in odd ways. Other breaks away from a standard Cuildra are its ability to convert opposing moves into different kinds of moves, and to hold moves for much longer than the duration of a single encounter.

The final quirk of the Cuildra is that it is fond of making traps, using the environment and whatever events are around along with its abilities to further cause chaos and come out on top. How it manipulates the environment without any normal appendages is a mystery.

eyyy let's give it a go

Username: Red!
Name: Zav`e
Species: Bear Sapient
Gender: They
Color: Brown, baby
Description: Literally a slightly more humanoid grizzly bear, Zav`e is part of the collective race of humanoid bears known as Bear Sapients.
Weapons/Abilities: As Grand Sage of the Sacred Order of the Tea Leaf, Zav`e carries the necessities to make a large pot of hot tea on their person at all times, and almost always has at least one pot ready. Like most members of the Order, Zav`e knows of and usually carries a wide variety of ingredients in order to make teas capable of anything from curing illness to being effective weapons on the battlefield. Unlike their fellow members, Zav`e's connection with nature and the power of the Sacred Tea is very strong, allowing them to unleash mystical powers - though often, this occurs when they are in such a relaxed state that they are hardly aware of how their actions affect their surroundings.

Biography: The Sacred Order of the Tea Leaf is one of several Orders dedicated to the art of beverages amongst the Bear Sapient race, with each one usually being most prominent only with certain Tribes of the Sapients. The Order of the Tea Leaf is most prominent amongst the Grizzly tribe and other tribes that tend to live in forested, mountainous regions; and is focused around the attempt to reach Enlightenment through the use of Tea to achieve absolute relaxation. That said, Zav`e is the youngest ever Grand Sage of the Sacred Order of the Tea Leaf, and for good reason. Even as a cub, their talent at the art of brewing tea was apparent, and upon their coming of age ceremony, Zav`e joined the Order of their own free will. Ten long years of training followed, honing the young Sage's talents to their utmost. Finally, upon the Eleventh year, Zav`e challenged the current Grand Sage for his position, invoking the great rite of the Sacred Tea. For Four days and Four nights, the two mixed and brewed their tea, using the finest and rarest ingredients in the world. Upon the final day, the two served their tea to all present. and, whilst the former Grand Sage's tea was powerful, the mixture that Zav`e had created was so powerful, so healthful, so relaxing that all who drank of it were healed of their injuries and deficiencies, and entered into a state of deepest relaxation. Thus defeated, the former Grand Sage bowed his head to Zav`e, naming them the new Grand Sage of the Sacred Order.

Zav`e, for their part, declared that they would accept this honor and in turn would venture forth in order to search for an even greater tea. They smiled then, and added, "Of course, not without some more tea, first."

Name: Mychela
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Text Color: A nice shade of violet
Biography: Years ago, the kingdoms of Nescin and Giam had been locked in a seemingly endless war. Neither side could gain any more territory without inviting swift and decisive retaliation.
Many thought the war would only end with one nation gaining an advantage and overrunning the other. Yet despite all predictions, the conflict ended peacefully, and few knew the full story of why.
But throughout the kingdoms, there were tales of a young girl who had been instrumental in ending the war. In some versions, she was a princess of Giam; in others, she was a traveler; still others said she was a rogue soldier of Nescin. Whatever her identity, the tales agreed on one thing: she had a mystical vial that could create potions from nothing, and refilled itself whenever it was emptied.
Mychela was an apprentice witch who found herself fascinated by the story. She wanted to know more about the vial and how it worked.
For a few months, she searched throughout Giam and even parts of Nescin in hopes of finding it, even just shattered fragments. She found no sign of the vial itself, but she did start to piece together more of the story.
As she did, she realized two things - first, that the girl had created the vial herself, and second, that doing so must have taken immense magical energy. Inspired, Mychela decided to make her own vial.
With a bit more research, she was able to find the rare crystal the vial had been crafted from, and also located a powerful source of mana to draw from. She shaped the vial, headed to the right spot, and prepared an incantation.
As soon as she finished, the vial filled with a strangely-colored potion. Mychela was eager to experiment and find out what it could do.
But before she had the chance, she and the new vial disappeared.

Description: Mychela is a young witch in her early 20s, and she dresses the part. She's very curious, and when she takes an interest in something, she goes to great lengths to learn more about it. The vial isn't the first item to catch her interest in this way.
Now that she's made it, her primary interest is in learning how it works. What sort of potions does it produce, and is there a way to predict what it will create?
Being dragged into a battle to the death is really only a secondary concern to her. She'll get along fine with anyone else as long as they don't try to interrupt her research. In fact, she'd be delighted if they'd volunteer to help out.

Weapons and Abilities: As a witch-in-training, Mychela knows a fair number of basic spells, mostly for utility. She knows a basic fireball spell just in case she needs to defend herself, but even then she prefers to use it to scare attackers off rather than harm them.
And of course, she has the newly created vial, which produces a variety of potions and refills whenever the potion is used up. Though she hasn't had time to test it yet, if it works like the one in the story, attempting to use a single drop of potion will just result in the whole vial emptying and refilling. She has no idea what sort of potions it will fill up with, though.
But she's very eager to find out.

Username: Loather
Name: Brew Carey
Species: Comedian??
Gender: Male
Color: eh, it wouldnt be right to have a unique text color. this is brew carey we're talking about here, giving him anything to stand out would go against everything he stands for

Description: Drew Carey with a coffee pot for a head

Weapons/Abilities: Can heat water in head. Kind of bad at everything else

Biography: Once a mediocre male comedian, now a mediocre superhero; look out crime, here comes Brew Carey

Username: caber none fave
Name: Everyone calls him Barkeep
Species: Human, maybe.
Gender: Male
Color: Almost, but not quite black.
Description: Standing at just a little over six feet, with jet black fairly short, but still carefully combed hair, and a face that isn't unpleasant to look at, he wears whatever the location calls for. If you find him working a dive bar, he'll maybe be wearing some sort of flannel shirt. At a classier establishment, he could be doing the whole white shirt, black vest thing. It just depends on the environment. And he's really fast to change if the situation calls for it.

He's friendly and always has an open ear. You got a problem? He'll listen to you the whole time, and will try to give you advice if you need it. He'll laugh at your jokes, even if they're really bad. And of course, he'll get you drunk. He isn't an incredible multitasker, though. There have been complaints that he's spent too much time listening to somebody's sob story and not enough time serving people drinks. It's not like he stops working while listening to somebody, he just works a bit slower is all. Hey, would you rather have a drink that's terrible because he worked at normal speed while not paying attention, or a good drink that takes a bit longer to get there because he wants to get it right while otherwise distracted?
Some people assume this is why you never see him work at the same bar for very long.

Biography: "Hey Barkeep, I heard you know something about a deal goin' on by the docks."
The bartender looked up from the glass he was cleaning, which really, would accomplish nothing other than making it look out of place here. The lone clean beacon in one of the diviest of all dive bars he's ever had the 'pleasure' of working.
"I might. Are you look- hurgh!"
Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, he was throttled by his thuggish looking visitor and pinned to the ground.
"Oh that's good, because I heard that you had a little 'conversation' with a cop about it earlier. And I've got some 'friends' who don't appreciate that kind of talk."
Ugh, this again. It would be nice to once again work somewhere that talking with customers didn't end with being attacked. Alright, what are the options here? Break a bottle? Hm, no. No he looks like he could take it. There's a shotgun under the counter, but that's only in reach with his feet, and the bartender was pretty sure the thug would notice what he was doing before he could get it to his hands. And his trachea was being currently grappled, which would impair his ability to clearly read those scrolls. Which means it's time to fall back on good old fashioned diplomacy.
"L...let's talk it out. Just... urk-- just take a seat and, urgh, I'll tell you what you want to know."
The thug lessened his grip slightly.
"What's keepin' you from spillin' right here?"
"Altitude Sickness. It's the name of a curse and if I spend much longer with my head this close to the ground I'm likely to hurl then lose vocal control, thus becoming useless to you. So please, sit."
The thug considered this for a moment, and seemed to determine that the bartender wasn't lying to him. He determined wrong, of course (the actual curse known as Altitude Sickness was created by Dwarven Mages and doesn't come into effect unless actually underground), but he still wouldn't have gotten very far where he was. He picked up a knocked down seat and placed himself upon it, while the bartender (slowly and carefully, as to not provoke the brute) moved behind the counter, and picked up the cup he had just cleaned from the counter, miraculously unbroken during the scuffle.
"Well then, sir. What's your poison, and what would you like to ask?"
"What do the cops know?"
"To drink, sir."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
"Then... gimme a Giant's Tear."
The bartender nodded and grabbed some bottles of alochol from below the counter (that were not previously there). While he mixed the drink, he explained in detail what the cops knew about this 'deal'. Courtesy of the bartender himself, of course, but before he could get murdered, he elaborated. How they planned on taking the deal down, how many of them would go there, the sorts of magic they had prepared. Everything. The thug didn't touch his drink, astounded at just the breadth of the knowledge.
"...you a mole?"
"I just have my sources."
"Well, you've been a real help, then. Y'know, I was gonna knock you out before burning the bar down, but now I think I'll refrain from the first part."
"It will make the owner happy, I'm sure. Now his plans can't be classified as fraud."
With a snap of the thug's fingers, the bartender discovered he could no longer move. Ah, right. No redemption in the crime world, of course. The thug casually tossed a fireball behind him as he walked out the door, a spring in his step. Eager to spread the information to his buddies of course. The bartender missed the good old days. When people expected him to have all the information, and nobody wanted to kill him for giving out. When parties of adventurers would go to the tavern FOR information from him.
Still, this... this was a problem. If he could get to the emergency scrolls, one might have a general counterspell for this binding, but that would require him to be unbound. Maybe he could end it faster, but that would also be a problem if the quickly spreading flames destroyed the bar before he could get back up.

While he was still thinking about how to get out of his predicament, he disappeared from the universe.

Weapons/Abilities: Get Barkeep a counter. Doesn't technically have to be a counter, but there needs to be space to grab things from, a surface to place those things on, and somebody behind it asking questions.
From this counter, he can do several things:
- He can produce any manner of ingredient required for mixed drinks, or just a regular bottled drink if requested.
- He can produce any type of glass that one would generally expected said mixed drink to be served in
- He can answer any question about anything within the area (about a ten mile radius), regardless of if he previously knew the information, and as long as he is serving or has served a drink that day to the questioner.
The last part is the beef of his powers, really. He can take advantage of it himself by asking somebody else to ask him a specific question, if he needs to get information for himself. The information he can give has a wide range, from knowledge of relationships to gain and give advice, to which cave the bandits that stole the King's gold are hiding out, to all the juicy political affiliations of the local crime syndicate.
Also he doesn't have to be behind a counter for it, but he knows every mixed drink. Not necessarily off the top of his head but if you ask him about a mixed drink, he will immediately know how it's made, as well as the history of it.
There's also something special about bars and pubs and taverns and the like in general, that keeps him in those instead of just literally any place with a counter. Specifically, he can't die in them. Well, he can, but he'll come right back to life a short while later behind the counter, looking to be about thirty years old, and completely unscarred. This is probably related to his apparent immortality, having lived for a few thousand years. The catch is if the facility is destroyed somehow, he can't resurrect.
He knows these things from experience, for the record. Always used to make it a policy to know a few clerics well versed in resurrection. Harder to come across those these days though.

Username: Truegold
Name: Rhodes Bordelain
Species: Human (Immortal)
Gender: Male
Color: A leaden Grey

Description/Biography: He is a tall thin man who looks to be in his mid to late thirties. He wears practical shoes and dresses in a very refined fashion. Oh, and he's several centuries old. He is the oldest and wisest of all alchemists, and the first and last to discover the elixir of life. Not to say no one else has tried. In fact the evil secret society The Brothers of Illumination have been hard at work trying to discover the secret formula, mostly by trying to steal it from him. Rhodes is a Slippery quarry however and often thwarts their devilish machinations through cunning and great feats of alchemy. His adventures have taken him around the world and on many occasions he has saved it from immanent destruction. He has learned dark secrets from secretive witches in the forests of Germany, hunted down the rarest of reagents in the ancient ruins of the mysterious African continent, and battled the cult of the Great Cetacean in the newly formed United States preventing them from calling their dark god of chaos into the world. But now he faces his most perilous challenge yet. Escaping from the Brotherhood through an improvised alchemical teleportation formula, Rhodes finds himself plucked from the very universe. Awakening in unfamiliar surroundings our brave hero soon finds himself entered into a grand tournament by the whim of a powerful and capricious entity. Now to return home he will have to face off against seven deadly opponents in the ultimate fight to the death. Will his alchemical prowess and cunning mind save him from this harrowing scrape? Or will death finally catch up with him in this multiversal arena.

Weapons/Abilities: Rhode's suit is specially tailored to be resistant to acids and burns. His coat can be quickly removed and cast aside if he needs more mobility. He carries with him a variety of alchemical reagents and devices including a small flask containing the elixir of life (though he will need a lab to realize more complex formulas). He is a master of improvisation and can quickly whip up a variety of effects on the go.

Awww shit sons we're close to deadline. Shall I give you 24 hours from this post? I shall.

24 hours remain if you want to brew up a profile.

Name: Leonormaud
Species: Immortal? Idea? Something like that.
Gender: One more to the sausagefest.
Color: Brew-green.

Description: Leonormaud seems to be a deceptively paper-thin strip that would be nondescriptive if he wasn't constantly undulating in false colors. He is a hand in width and has no problems extending and withdrawing his length, although he find a length of six feet to be respectable. He has a habit of rearranging himself into helices, barrels, and other sorts of structural malarkey if he is bored. Which is often.

It's not that he is deliberately being rude, but he is deliberately inattentive. He is a cerebral at heart and researcher by profession. His work is the pinnacle of his life (and income) and he has an unfortunate tendency to gloss over things that do not relate to his work. He has been on this ruse for so long that its hard to tell whether he is pretending to or genuinely forgot. He has a sort of flamboyant carelessness that make you either want to like him or punch his (nonexistent) face. Otherwise, he's a fairly charming fellow when pressed to talk and can keep up a pretense of attention – or something like a modicum of respect, anyway.

Abilities: Leonormaud has a fairly impressive ability to speed up reactions. Not slow down, not reversing – speed up. The extent of his power is limited to reactions of organic origins. Not that he's complaining, biological reactions don't happen very fast anyway. Plus, it's super convenient. Need coffee without the price? Ferment your own! Need instant booze? No problem!

I guess Leonormaud could technically weaponize it. He had considered it before but he gets the feeling it just makes things worse.

Biography: Leonormaud was looking forward to a settling into a comfortable tenure for the rest of his life until some nunderhead decided to take him away.

Username: Ixcaliber
Name: Alemaiden Runa Valgerding
Gender: Female
Species: Viking
Text Colour: man who cares about colour anyway
Description: Runa has long almost-white blonde hair plaitted in a single braid that reaches almost halfway down her back. Her eyes are ice blue and her skin deathly pale. Her features might be considered masculine; a heavy lantern jaw and her nose crooked from where it once set badly. Though she's just seventeen she looks a lot older. As Alemaiden she wears the traditional armour of her position. It's made from thickest elkra leather and sturdy metal plates. It's the strongest, and heaviest, armour that her clan possesses, and is thoroughly marked from many hundreds of years of use. Strapped to her back is a huge heavily reinforced cask of Valgerding ale, almost as large as Runa herself.

Runa is intensely driven. When she makes her mind up about something it is very difficult to get her to even consider changing her mind and she will go to extraordinary lengths to achieve her goals. She can be prone to making snap judgements and decisions, which she is loathe to dismiss. She tends to go with her instincts and hope things work out in the long run. She's not sure whether she was drawn to become an Alemaiden by a desire her help her clan, or more by a desire for power.

Items/Abilities: She has a full cask of Valgerding ale attached to her back. Valgerding ale is a powerful brew that sends those who drink it into a mad berserker rage, making them almost impervious to harm and increasing their strength tenfold. She is one of the strongest most capable warriors of the Valgerding clan. Though her movement is limited by the enormous cask she carries and the heavy armour she wears she is still a force to be reckoned with. She fights with a double headed axe, or with her fists if she has to.

Biography: Although they lack the numbers or the innate savagery of some of the most fearsome clans of Kosk, the Valgerding clan have long since earned themselves a reputation as a clan not to be messed with. This is no doubt thanks to their potent berserker brew which has made them almost indefatigable in battle even against clans thrice their size. The recipe for this incredible ale, first concocted by the founder of the clan Queen Valgerd Alemother, is a closely guarded secret passed down through the generations from one Alemaiden to the next.

The position of Alemaiden is hotly contested even amongst the male members of the clan. An Alemaiden must be strong enough to carry the enormous cask of ale upon her back and still be able to fight with enough ferocity to protect the precious brew. She must be stalwart enough that even under torture she would never reveal the secret recipe of her brew. And as the most important member of the clan she has the ability to veto the decisions of the leader for the good of her people. As such she must be wise enough to know when and when not to do so.

Runa's earliest memory was when her mother took her to watch the Alemaidens of the time mixing a brew in preparation for an upcoming battle. She was amazed, gripped by the sense of power and purpose that those two strong women had, by the crowd that revered them. She decided that day that she would do whatever it took to become the next Alemaiden. She trained day and night, spending every spare minute pushing herself physically or practicing with whatever weapons she could lay her hands on.

At the age of sixteen Helga, the elder of the two current Alemaidens, died and it was time to select a successor (tradition dictated that there must always be two Alemaidens to ensure that the secret could never die). Runa was the obvious choice. Before the day was out she was working with Ingrid, learning how to make the Valgerding ale. Runa was a quick learner, every bit as dedicated as she had been for the last decade. For the next year or so they lived and worked together rarely leaving each other's side, but in terms of combat things were quiet. It was not until that winter that a threat would emerge; an army from a foreign land beyond Kosk with weapons the like of which had never been seen before.

The Valgerding clan heard of these invaders from refugees fleeing across Kosk, who claimed that they had wiped out some of the tougher clans and it was only a matter of time. Their prowess in battle seemed certainly an exaggeration, but they discovered just how dangerous they were. Hundreds of clansmen felled by the invaders' strange machinery and somehow in the midst of that hellish battle Ingrid ended up dead, face down in a pool of blood and ale. In the bloody aftermath of what was a hard fought victory Runa did not have time to select a new Alemaiden before she inexplicably disappeared.

Settle down with a hot cup of something, and gloss over these awards!

I See What You Did There - Zav'e takes the prize, the bruin who's brewin' up a storm.

Above the Fold goes to the entry which is debatably more pre-fold than fold, Brew Carey. Rather fitting when the coffee pot on top is what makes the basic profile interesting.

The Iron Chef Special Ingredient award goes to Leonormaud, in part because most all the other profiles dealt with potions or booze (or boozepotions). Bullshit all-purpose chemical powers was also a common theme, but I appreciated this one trying for a modern (?) take.

Backdoor Worldbuilding I'll give to Rhodes Bordelain, for tantalising glimpses into a slightly off-kilter history.

Diligent Gentleman goes to Alemaiden Runa. The Valgerding ale would be a hot commodity for any battler, and Runa herself seems up to the challenge to repel would-be keg-tappers.

The Iron Brew wins The 20Q Award For Confusion, mostly because I'm perplexed as to what the hideous stealth pun is that bigro thought up. Methinks I need to brush up on my Scottish.

Synergy honestly could've gone to any of the profiles, as the alchemist/multiple-effects-potion-producer theme carried right through the offerings, but Cuildra will have a lot of fun with its co-battlers no matter what you throw at it. It'd work especially well with any of the more trigger-happy characters, I guess?

Best of Show - I'm giving this to Barkeep, mostly by virtue of being a strong contender for Diligent Gentleman and Synergy. I couldn't give him both, so he gets this'n instead.

Alright guys I'm sorry about this but I've really gotta reign it in a bit this week and give you something a bit less ambiguous.

The incredibly specific theme of the week with not much room for different interpretations is Set.

isn't that a thousand times more ambiguous

Red this is the guy who went out of his way to make a post to say he couldn't make a post for the Redundancy week

I think you've been...... set up

Username: Dragon Fogel
Name: Eguid of the Seven Talismans
Gender: Nonspecific
Race: Wish-granting spirit
Biography: The Seven Talismans are at the core of many legends. The details vary, but some essential elements never change. There are seven magical objects, each with its own power, and when one person gathers them all in one place, he is granted a wish by the great spirit Eguid.
In some tales, Eguid speaks to the hero directly through the first talisman he finds, and offers cryptic advice leading to the other talismans.
The strangest thing is that the form of the talismans and the shape of the spirit changes from story to story, though the name of the spirit is always Eguid. Scholars simply suspect this to be tribal variation, with the basic tale being spread from one group to another and each tribe adapting the story to better fit their own existing legends. But others say the talismans are real, and simply change their form with each wish.
Most scholars are skeptical of such claims, often sarcastically asking where the talismans are now if they really do exist.
None of them considered the possibility that the talismans had been taken from the world entirely.

Description: As a spirit, Eguid has no fixed form. It can't even physically manifest unless the Seven Talismans are all in one place.
The Talismans are likewise malleable in form, though once they take on a shape, they retain it. That said, each of them has a color and its form will always feature that color prominently: White, Red, Blue, Green, Purple, Gold, and Black.
Eguid can speak through one of the talismans. It tends to be frustrating to talk to, speaking in vague riddles most of the time. Legends suggest that Eguid likes to test potential wishers, although it's not really clear just what sort of wishers the spirit prefers.

Weapons and Abilities: Eguid's main ability is to grant a single wish to whoever gathers the Seven Talismans in one place. This wish cannot be used to kill directly, and there's a limit to what Eguid is powerful enough to do, but it's still a highly sought-after prize.
Eguid can also change its form freely when it manifests. Aside from that, it can do a lot of things, but generally doesn't except in the service of a wish. Of course, if someone decided to challenge it to combat for some reason, that would be another matter entirely.
After the wish is granted, the Talismans will change their form and scatter. If they were taken to a different world, they would likely choose forms appropriate to that world, though each would still feature its relevant color prominently.
In addition, each Talisman grants a magical ability to its bearer. These tend to vary, though they often relate to the current forms of the Talismans. They are also nearly indestructible; breaking one would almost certainly require very powerful magic.
There's one exception, though: the Black Talisman. This one always has the same ability, permitting its holder to speak directly to Eguid. Eguid knows where all the other talismans are, and will truthfully answer all questions asked of it regarding the talismans - though that's not to say it won't find a way to give a true answer that isn't in the least bit helpful.
Finally, and relevant to the battle, Eguid can only be killed in two ways. Either it must be killed when it physically manifests to grant a wish (and as the wish can't be fatal, you can't simply wish for it to destroy itself), or the talismans must all be destroyed. Neither is an easy task, obviously.

Username: settin' sol
Name: Seto Skrit
Species: Rabbiteer, furry, big floopy eared, bipedal digitigrade lookin people
Gender: NB They
Color: Red like a rider's belt
Description: Seto wears a puffy green vest that reveals a luxurious puffy fur poof on their chest with a red and black striped tunic under it. They have black pants with a very cool silver belt with five gems around it. They are tall, and usually look distant and closed off. Around their wrist they have a band with a slot in it.

While they aren't as distant as they appear to be, they are inclined to not trust people at first, though they try to be a little more reasonable and friendly than you'd expect. When they finally do manage to hit it off with someone, they do their best to make that person happy, and they would do anything to protect them.

Weapons/Abilities: Besides good balance, speed, and acrobatics, Seto is pretty observant when it comes to the world around them. They have a good sense of the atmosphere and what actions would be best to take, and what those actions could cause. If only this extended to their ability to read people.

The other notable thing that Seto has is their belt and band, which are grafted to their body and cannot be removed easily. The gems on the belt can be removed and placed onto the band, resulting in a transformation where Seto gains a mask, a tight power suit, and a general increase in all physical and mental ability. Each gem has a different, secondary power, and in extreme cases, Seto can use up to two gems at once.

Biography: To this day, Seto does not know why they were the Rabiteer chosen to have this power, nor if they even were. One day, while walking at dusk, they were attacked by a monster. As the creature was about to deal a fatal blow, a light shot down from the sky and Seto suddenly transformed. The rest of the night was a blur of fighting and running before they eventually reverted back to normal and found themselves with the band and belt, neither removable.

As it would turn out, the monsters were alien creatures, attempting to invade Seto's planet, starting with their city. As they transformed more, and learned about the various gimmicks of the gems (each gem combination was the same no matter the order, each had their own characteristics, and some always contributed the same things, there were a total of 15 transformations they could do), they eventually made their way to the leader of the invasion, and they managed to defeat him, and stop the invasion, exploding the fleet and just barely making it to an escape pod...

However, when the pod landed, Seto was gone...

Username: Red ofc
Name: Orvins The Slayer
Species: mystically sentient suit of knight's armor
Gender: NB, It
Color: Gunmetal grey
Description: not sure how to say this with words without a reference, so here's a basic reference for the general shape:

SpoilerShow

Credit to FromSoftware - This is the Elite Knight Armor from Dark Souls, after all

. However, rather than the clean blue overcoat-ish cloth, the cloth Orvins sports is tattered and stained the color of ages-old blood. no pouch or other item save the sheathes of whatever weapons it may possess hang from the belt at the armor's waist, and despite the obvious damage and proof of being drenched in blood time and time again, the metal still shines as though it were newly forged, sporting naught a scratch upon its surface.

Weapons/Abilities: Orvins has been said to wield many weapons, and is often cited as not only possessing the strength to wield blades that a normal being would at the very least require two hands to lift with ease; but as often choosing to wield two such weapons at a time. Orvins seems to have no interest in the use of projectile weapons, and in fact often ignores them entirely except when they are used against it. The only weapon that is always cited as being wielded by the Slayer: a great, black blade forged from the tail bones of the Eternal Dragon. This sword is imbued with the powers of the Dragon's flames, and can bring forth destruction in its wielder's wake. In addition, having been bathed in the blood of the slain Eternal Dragon, the armor of the Slayer can never be truly destroyed; only temporarily damaged - no matter how great the damage, it will eventually return to its original state.

Bio: Many have heard of It. In the darkest corners of the infinite worlds, they whisper rumours of It. In the shadows, some few, poor fools try to hide from It. The stories vary - some say that It is a myth. Others swear that they have seen It. Some know all too well how real It is.

But they all agree on one thing: that It is Orvins The Slayer, and that thus did It come to be...

Long ago, in an ancient land, an Eternal Dragon came to be. Seemingly unmatched in power, and apparently immortal, it demanded tribute from the lands surrounding it. Thusly, once each year, the lands surrounding offered tribute, and the Eternal Dragon allowed the lands to continue to exist. Thus did things continue for a thousand years.

But a month before the thousand-and-first tribute, a knight clad in silvery armor came forth to the king of the lands, and offered to destroy the Eternal Dragon, that the lands might be free of the eternal curse. The King sighed, as many had tried before, and all had failed. He asked the knight for his title, and the knight answered simply:

"My name is Orvins; but soon thou shalt call me Orvins The Slayer."

The knight Orvins, thus spoken, walked forth from the king's halls, leaving all there with no doubt of his failure.

Three weeks passed with no word. Just as the tribute was being prepared, upon the fourth week and the day of the thousand-and-first sacrifice, a figure emerged on the horizon, carrying a great bone, roughly the length of a man's arm, and... the head of the Eternal Dragon.

Orvins The Slayer, he was indeed.

The Slayer offered the head of the Dragon to the King, his armor and the cloths upon it still stained with the blood of the Dragon. He asked that he might keep the tail, and that from it a blade worthy of such a feat be made.

This caused the King and his subjects to fear the Slayer, for what monster could defeat the all-powerful Eternal Dragon? and thus a plot was set in motion, and Orvins the Slayer was betrayed.

With his dying breath, the Slayer cursed the King and all the peoples of his lands, swearing upon the blood of the monster he had destroyed that he would have neverending vengeance.

And thus, as the words left the Slayer's mouth, did his armor rise. All who did not flee were slain, and the armor of Orvins The Slayer stalked those who survived... and their descendants... and their reincarnations... and on, and on, for all eternity, Orvins The Slayer's curse haunts the fools who rejected their savior...

None know if this is the true reason that the terrible thing known as Orvins The Slayer continues to move. None hunted by It has lived to say.

Pray then, that thou shalt never see It, for there is truth in the tale's final words:

It Cannot Be Killed.
It Cannot Be Caged.
And If It Is Coming For You, Never Stop Running -
- For Orvins The Slayer Always Finds Its Prey.