Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer. "SPIDERS." shouted a cosmic entity as it giggled. An enormous black being spun around a huge oblong shape in the center of nowhere in particular. The oblong shape was glowing and pink and resembled a massive pomegranate flavored strobe light powered by a god. The being was like a junkyard coated in thick black sludge with a torso rising from its bottom-pieces of sickly metal and decayed vehicles smashed into a bizarrely long and simplified human midsection. The towering being flicked arms in and out of itself rapidly, at least 18 limbs of black organic steel spiraling and gyrating as the being lowered itself down to the bottom of the pink oblong. It rapidly generated a lavender panel beneath itself and an oval head emerged from a noodle-like neck, apparently kept within the things' confines. It began coloring the lavender panel in with intricate fractal patterns with a few spare limbs, using its four primary ones to manipulate a pane of energy before it.
"Not a lot of games afoot today." It commented in a voice that seemed sultry and smooth before cracking into a dissonant, high pitched squall.
"BUT THAT'S NOT TRUE. LOOK AT THEM PLAYING."
It emerged five different sized, solid, multi colored eyes from its head's front and examined the pane more clearly. Each eye began extending as if on a stalk, getting a closer look while it's spare monstrous limbs in the back began playing some variant of rock paper scissors apparently involving the destruction of galaxies. The being shuddered and observed something it had been for awhile reaching a fever point.
"These cosmic gentlefolk seem intent on continuing their cacaphonic orchestra like it meant something. My don't they feel special being able to toSS THE SMALL INTO THE FRYING PAN AND STIR STIR STIR." It smashed the panel below it into a thousand pieces and went about tossing them into the pink light idly as it swung down to the bottom (or top, I suppose) of the oblong.
"THEY'RE SO BIG AND SPECIAL HUH MYSELF. With their boring reptition and their insistence on the grand nature of it all. Let's be honest with ourselves, cock fighters aren't good men but they don't PRETEND THEY'RE BAKING UP GOODNESS. NOT JUST BECAUSE THEY AREN'T BAKERS. THEY'RE HONEST. THEY'RE ALSO WONDERFUL TO EAT."
The Eccentric was becoming rather agitated at this point.
"I could put together something with a touch more class than any of them have so far. AND BY CLASS I MEAN LIKE AN ACADEMY. AND NONE OF YOU GET BACHELORS." The being shuddered and convulsed as it rose an enormous transparent purple stage out of the nothing below, in a semicircled arc spreading out from the oblong's bottom, curving around it safely. "And if the others don't approve of my doings." It chuckled. "They can come complain to me." Another nine panels of energy rose up from the essence of all, and it reached nine appendages into them, seemingly sending them across the multiverse.
"Let's see what kind of combatants we can find for this mosttt DELICIOUS engagement!" The Eccentric screamed into the nothingness and plotted its fun....
Ok, so this battle was originally titled The Delicious Engagement when Archduke_Ferdinand started it, but I was asked to take over when he had to leave the forums.
For posterity, I'm keeping Arch's original ruleset under here; my own are far more Grand-Battle standard. Check 'em further down.
Yeah! Another of these! Only this one is being run by an insane god!
So you should all know the basic rules for this (and if you don't, just refresh yourself over the main Grand Battle Season 2 thread), so more importantly we're going to go over the differences in this game from others.
1. The Eccentric himself is pretty much off his gourd or at least halfway there. So he may not make sense all the time and his battle scenarios may be more off the wall than simply 'go kill one another in a new venue'. If you ever find yourselves engaged in fisticuffs with a giant duck don't act like I didn't warn you.
2. 9 contestants. Not 8. Know why? Because in addition to the worst writer getting the axe at the end of each round, one of you might just die over the course of normal roleplay or other events. In fact, one of you /will/, almost certainly. I don't like the idea that a coconut written by Orson Scott Card could win this thing. Let's be honest. A character who isn't quick enough or good enough to evade death, regardless of how polished their writing is, is probably going to die. And they will. So have fun with that.
3. The Eccentric may toss in enemies that aren't you into a battle just to make your lives more interesting. Or he may toss in allies. Or cake.
Things will be tossed.
The main thing to keep in mind with the Eccentric is that he likes a lot more personal interaction and control over the event than his fellow Grandmasters.
4. Just cause he's a crazy grandmaster doesn't mean you're obligated to make the most LOLRANDOM character you can. In fact, please don't. Remember- if anything, serious characters in weird situations is funnier than weird ones in the same. Feel free to be a little off the wall though.
Don't put your Username. I can see it. It's right there. It's cool.
Tekhst Culla: No using one another's or The Eccentric's. Or beige.
People using beige are disqualified. Not from the battle but from having souls.
Cool Shit You Can Do:
Cool Weapons You Have:
What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space:
Okay we're good. I'mma hold this one's entries open for a day or so (24 hours) and the best folks who submit in that time, in my view, get in.
So Schazer's house rules:
-Pretty much the same rules as usual - you guys write about killing each other or trying to escape or whatever it is your characters feel like doing, until I choose a writer whose character is killed out of the story to conclude the round. Then I pick you up, bat away a few marauding tentacles, and deposit you down in your next round, where we do the whole thing again. Simple, no?
-Some of you have pretty powerful abilities, so it's up to you to set your own realistic in-game constraints on those to make for an interesting story. Godmoding's boring and is certain to get you soundly trounced come round's end.
Elimination is based on good writing, and good writing is shown with a careful eye for errors, attention to continuity and avoiding plot holes, and characterising your own and other players' characters well while making an interesting story. If you're wanting a critique of your writing, I can certainly offer my limp-wristed attempt at it (dependent on how many exams I've got in the following week, but I'd definitely try and give advice), but I won't go picking your stuff apart unless you ask me to.
In the interest of creating an engaging story, I strongly encourage all participants to meet up on IRC or scheme through PM to make for something entertaining and crazy. Quite a few regulars hang out in both #MSPAFA and #Grandbattle, on Esper IRC.
Also, in order to involve unsightly ninja-ing and much rewriting of posts, the Reserve system will be in effect. Reserves will be honoured for 2 and a half hours, but there's no need to get pernickety about this rule either. Just be sensible. Cool?
Joined: Jul 2011
Location: The Frigid Northlands
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
Character Name: Steinwaffe
Tekhst Culla: #408040
Cool Shit You Can Do: Fly, eat rocks, lift three times as much as an ordinary human
Weakness: Concentrated light renders him immobile.
Cool Weapons You Have: silver-plated claws, iron-tipped horns, parasol (acquired from Eccentric)
Looks roughly human; main differences are wings, claws, odd proportions, stone skin. Face is considerably scratched up, but otherwise more or less average attractiveness. Slight underbite. Wears a rosary at all times.
Personality-wise, he's incredibly protective and very pious. He refuses to engage in combat unless he is attacked first or someone's life is at stake. He tends to be fairly serious and stoic, though sometimes lightens up when he's safe and in enjoyable company.
As all gargoyles are, he was sculpted in order to ward evil away from a particular building, in his case a chapel in Germany. Unlike most gargoyles, he was created in a universe which preserved and honed the techniques of Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel, better known as the creator of the Golem of Prague.
Created in 1778 by a paranoid priest of Munich, who believed that Napoleon Bonaparte was an evil vampire bent on destroying the chapel (in actuality, he was a risen demon). After the church was burnt down in WWII by the French Cyborg Brigade to kill the Nazi officers holed up inside, he proceeded to walk the Earth, seeking out and killing the evil undead masses.
Yes: OF COURSE!
Favorite Food: Quartz.
Fears: Failure, Excessive Light, Large Bodies of Water.
What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Kicking some undead ass in an old mausoleum. Managed to off all the myriad skeletons and zombies, and was about to finish off the necromancer in charge. Rather peeved about not being able to finish the job.
Joined: Aug 1900
Originally posted on MSPA by Nodge. Character Name: Timothy Swhales Gender: Male Race: Human Tekhst Culla:#0040BF Cool Shit You Can Do: Tims' plundered celtic graveyard torc affords him the scattered graces of their faded pantheon; offerings, sacrifices and even simple prayers in their name (provided he can remember their name) can result in boons provided to him; a light to guide his path, the wind to cushion his fall, a sword dragged within his grasp, etcetera.
The downsides are notable; the Gods' are old and dying and riddled with something akin to deific senility. They do not respond if they don't feel like it, or if they don't think Timothy's' sacrifices are sufficient, or if they don't like his tone, or if it is a Tuesday and raining, or for any reason they choose. They are not answerable to him. Sometimes, Timothy suspects that they are simply to weak to aid him, even if they want to. He isn't aware of it, but the human sacrifices he's given them have left them with with a type of Kuru - a disease a lot like CJD. Their minds are going, but they'll never truly die. Cool Weapons You Have: In addition to the tarnished torc around his neck that is his link to the Gods, Tim wields a shortsword with a professional attitude and considerably more trust. He keeps a dirk strapped to his leg, which he is a reasonably good shot with. He wears a greasy, tough leather lamellar cuirass he stripped from a merchant guard which is fairly tough, but little else in the way of armour, fearing it would slow down his reflexes. Description: A wiry, thin welshman with stubble sticking out from his face in clumps, Timothy makes a likely highwayman and an unlikely high priest. He wears homespun clothing with the texture and smell of sacking, with an unusually high collar to cover the torc. His expression generally defaults to one whose owner has just put a large spoon of sugar in their tea only to discover it was salt. His hair is a dark brown and cut scruffily short.
His gaze darts around, even when talking. You get the impression he is considering at all times whether to fight or run, a choice which shortly will be cut in half. Biography: Timothy is a bad man from the thirteenth century AD. He is also not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He legged it from his home in Cheshire at fifteen after stealing quite a lot of small valuables from work, was caught, beaten and left to die in a ditch in the welsh foothills. He was found by a pair of elderly graverobbers, who patched him up on the understanding that he would get a (small) cut of the profits provided he did all the heavy lifting.
He did this for about a year. Then, in a Celtic crypt in Tryweryn valley the old men couldn't get into, he found the Celtic Torc of the High Priest and was informed matter-of-factly by a God calling Himself Lugus that he was now High Priest of the Pantheon of the Celts and if they didn't get an ordainment sacrifice within the hour he'd have to get used to life without skin. Tim solved this by stumbling outside and braining the two elderly men with his looting shovel, to which he was congratulated by some of his new acquired pantheon and admonished by others, who would have accepted fruit.
Various Gods chimed in and explained his new predicament in excruciatingly dull detail, but Tim understood this: One; The torc doesn't come off unless the head comes with it. Two; The Gods want worship, even from some like you. Three; they're desperate. They're even willing to do something as lowly as trade miracles in return for prayers, sacrifices and works in their name. The last one left Tim with a bit of a grin on his face.
He dropped grave robbing and set out to make some serious money. He joined a gang of highwaymen and spent several years looting isolated homes and travelling merchants with alarming success and the occasional human sacrifice. The men in the gang didn't know the details, but they knew that Swhales was lucky and that was enough to eventually put him on top. Granted, he was living in the woods and hunted by both the crown and several private landowners, but he was feeling pretty smug.
This was about the time that the Gods started going weird on him; his crew were caught on a job he'd been informed of by a helpful Lugus, and none of the Gods would answer his pleas. Some laughed, Belenos screeched, but most just ignored him. His crew were cut down to a man, but he escaped and spent several years on the run living hand to mouth. During this time, the Gods got increasingly mad with none able to explain why.
Now he's around twenty-five, living in South Wales and stealing from the poor to get by. He spends his days trying to simultaneously appease the Gods he's stuck with and get help from them, whilst at the same time running from King Johns' law enforcers (who have a surprisingly long memory). Principally, five of the stronger, saner Gods of the Pantheon still help him, but it's not easy for anyone involved. He has learned through bitter experience to rely on their help only when his life does not depend on it, or when he has no other choice. Yes?: I think so! Favorite Food: Whatever he can take from you. Fears: Living with a head full of mad, useless gods, The Future, giant beetles. What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Scaling a fence to get into an abattoir, which he is using to hide stuff taken from four town-houses acquired during one of his better afternoons.
Joined: Aug 1900
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
Character Name: Jeremy Brackett
Cool Shit You Can Do: Power over doors. Jeremy can make any door open to any other door in the known universe. Of course, if he's no longer in the known universe, and is instead, hypothetically, in some pocket-dimension or something, then he can only make doors open to other doors in that pocket dimension. "Door", here, means anything that can open, or be considered a door, and that he can fit through; revolving doors, sliding doors, car doors, or even a coffin. If it opens and leads to a "place", that "place" can be anywhere Jeremy wants it to be, so long as his exit is also a door of some type.
Locked doors are no obstacle as they simply open, no matter the type of lock. The only thing that can keep a door from opening is an obstacle on the exit side, but generally in that case Jeremy can simply pull instead of push, as he can open any entrance door in either direction.
Cool Weapons You Have: None. Jeremy's a lover, not a fighter.
Description: 5'10", short wavy dark-brown hair, blue eyes, slightly sunburnt skin (he just recently exited an outhouse on a very welcoming nude beach and decided to stay for a bit but didn't have any sunscreen), narrow, angular face with bushy eyebrows and very short but slightly scruffy facial hair. Wears a white crew-cut t-shirt under a maroon zip-up hoodie... thing, blue jeans and black sneakers. Hoodie is unzipped, and hood is down (unzipped because he thinks it looks cool and hoodie down because a hood blocks his peripheral vision). Currently has a few bits of currency, a few energy bar type things, and a couple of condoms in his various pockets. Generally travels light, since whenever he needs something he just opens a door that happens to open to a safe or a grocery store or what-have-you.
Biography: Jeremy's first journey through a door occurred when he was ten months old. Having just learned to walk, his parents tried to keep him away from dangerous household objects by setting him up in a playpen. One afternoon, after witnessing a jar of cookies being placed on a counter, baby Jeremy's tubby little hand pushed open the gate on his playpen... and was suddenly opening the cabinet above the kitchen counter, from the inside. His parents found the toddler crying on the counter after having mysteriously tumbled out from a cabinet.
Thereafter, Jeremy kept up his penchant for trouble, refusing to acknowledge any barriers placed between him and something he wanted. He would simply find a door, somewhere, and make it open to a door near his goal. Naturally this got him into some trouble with more dangerous entities, and Jeremy discovered that he is a terrible fighter, but an excellent runner.
Jeremy, now 23, lives his life as a petty thief and thrill-seeker, escaping danger through the nearest door and usually finding himself exactly where he wants to be (most often in a model's dressing room).
Favorite Food: Oh man tacos you don't even know.
Fears: Absence of doors. Also rats. God, rats.
What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Deciding that Paris isn't as cool the hundredth time around and opening a door to the International Space Station, because, y'know, space.
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.
Well what you can do is enter and then if you can't handle it, write your character into an inescapable situation as a way out! [img]images/smilies/apple.gif[/img]
Joined: Aug 1900
Originally posted on MSPA by Fakeimposter.
Character Name: Sereno Dementis
Tekhst Culla: .#008000
Cool Shit You Can Do: Can unintentionally summon an entity called Umbra that will try to destroy anything that may cause Sereno harm. This entity will either disapear after enemies have been vanquished, or when it has sustained enough physical blows to render it incapacitated (This may involving cutting off it's head or all of it's limbs. Any damage that comes to Umbra will affect Sereno in a psychological way, such as the sensation of dying. Any harm that comes to Sereno will not affect in any apparent way Umbra unless Sereno is killed. In which case, it is assumed that Umbra will vanish.) or if Sereno somehow gains control of Umbra and tells it to leave. This a very unlikely scenario, seeing as there hasn't been any sign that Sereno has any control whatsoever on Umbra, aside from being summoned whenever Sereno is in a high emotional state. Umbra has an abnormal amount of strength, and prefers tearing people apart with it's hands.
Cool Weapons You Have: Sereno only has a butcher knife that he found while trying to escape the phantasamal hand.
Description: Sereno is descended from an Italian lineage. He is 5'7 feet tall and unhealthily thin. He has dark hair and tan skin. He has a nervous demeanor and an odd sense of humor. He is dressed in clothes that are worse for the wear, usually in dark colors.
Umbra is an entity that takes the shape of something that looks like a nine year old child, gender unknown. Umbra is has no mouth, nostrils, or pupils, yet can still seem to find it's target quite easily. Despite lack of mouth, Umbra has been known to scream when hurt, a scream that sounds like a screeching wind and a terrified child. Umbra is discolored, and skin tone is usually that of a dark grey, but it has been known to change different shades depending on the amount of injuries it suffers. Though Umbra does not have pupils, it's "eyes" are a very dark violet. Umbra's arms and legs are known to stretch to abnormal lengths, usually extending to 3 feet longer then the usual proportions, when trying to increase speed and/or reach.
Sereno was born a very strange child with a very strange name. He was always the one that was often avoided by other children for his odd behavior and mannerisms. Sereno rarily made eye contact with his peers and spoke in soft, nervous tones when forced into conversation. His home life was that of a normal, middle-class family that lived in a nice house in the suburbs. The school conselors could not find any signs of abuse or emotional neglect that would give any reason for Sereno's behavior, and eventually they stopped paying attention to him. Sereno just became another ghost in the shadows to them, lingering in the background as his schoolmates spread rumors and warnings about him. But eventually they forgot about him to. And Sereno was, mostly, content was this.
As Sereno grew older, he began to frequently experience headaches on a daily basis. These occurances soon turned from annoyance to agony. Sereno soon began to feel migraines that made him impossible to concentrate and quite naseous. He felt like his brain was being pounded and stretched and torn. The constant barrage of pain made it impossible to concentrate, but the doctors found nothing wrong with him. The various tests, X-Rays, MRIs showed nothing that could cause this. But the pain that shouldn't have existed continued to grow and torment Sereno. He felt like his brain was screaming, trying to tear itself from whatever was causing this. Sereno would scream sometimes, a silent, hushed scream because the pain was so loud in his head that it would seem to him that it drowned out everything else.
And then he woke up. Or at least, that's what it felt like to him. It wasn't that the pain had gone away, exactly. It was as if it was absent. As if his brain had pushed out the bits that caused it. Like a car mssing an engine, or a barrel without water. Sereno felt lighter then before. That's when the nightmares started.
Sereno was never quite sure what he dreamed of, for it faded instantly when he woke from his fevered sleep. He would wake up crying. He would wake up where the world seemed so much quieter, the shadows were darker and the only thing that he could here were his soft, quieted sobs. That's when Umbra would appear.
It would stand at the foot of the bed looking at him, or on the ceiling, looking downat him. It would always look. It would never stop looking. And it kept seeing into him, like it knew everything about him. It would try to talk sometimes. Sereno didn't like when it tried to do that. It would talk even though it had no mouth nor tongue or teeth, so it sounded like it was whispering mumbled secrets that Sereno would never be able to hear. Umbra would soon vanish aproximently 5 minutes after Sereno woke up. No one would believe him. They took him to see more doctors and therapists and shrinks, and they would tell him that he was crazy. Not to his face, of course. But that's what Sereno heard, and he was constantly told that he was "Suffering Delusions brought on by Stress" or "Bipolar" or "an Early-Onset Paraphrenia" or other embellished descriptions of his supposed Mental-Illness. The worse part was, that every other word would be emphasized as if they were trying extra hard to pronounce it correctly, like they were trying to impress people, trying to pretend that if they put enough labels on it, it would make it easier to hear. But all it sounded like to Sereno was "Crazy" "Nutjob" or "Insane", the same words over and over again. They would give him pills that made him feel dead inside, telling him that they would make him "better."
But Umbra never went away despite the fancy words or expensive perscriptions. It still kept looking at him. And All Sereno wanted to do was to make it stop, to make the thing leave him alone, to stop bothering him. But it would always be there. His parents would hear him yelling in his bedroom at it. And it would disappear before they opened the door. And they would start looking at Sereno too, and they would look at him like they were scared. His mother would cry on the couch sometimes, when she thought no one was looking. But the sounds traveled.
It wasn't long before they tried to take Sereno away.
They were grabbing him and they didn't understand and Sereno just wanted them to stop and leave him alone and please please no stop i'm not actually stop please why won't you listen to me. And he fought and he struggled and he screamed.
And then Umbra came. And it started screaming. And then everyone found out that Sereno wasn't insane.
Sereno has been on the run ever since.
Favorite Food: Sereno loved to eat Bolognese Sauce covered pasta. It reminds of the time when his parents took him out to a field during the 4th of July and his mother had brought the sauce and pasta with her, and she had wrapped the aluminum foil around it in the shape of a swan. And Sereno had eaten it while staring at the colors that exploded in the sky.
Fears: Being found. Killing people by accident. Umbra looking at him.
What he was doing: Squatting in an abandoned house. The windows shattered and there was something after him. Umbra attacked it while Sereno ran to the kitchen. Umbra started screaming. The noise stopped. The thing grabbed his leg. It wouldn't let go and it felt like it never would. And Sereno passed out.
cyber95 Wrote:Well what you can do is enter and then if you can't handle it, write your character into an inescapable situation as a way out! [img]images/smilies/apple.gif[/img]
Don't worry, just intentionally write your godly character in another battle in a sub par manner. Someone else's stick figure will suddenly find your weak point and end you, so you'll be free for this one! [img]images/smilies/icon_burro.gif[/img]
Edit: Good stuff you guys. Keep applying, folks, and soon hopefully we'll have enough to get a good mix going.
Joined: Jul 2011
Location: North America
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary. Character Name: Geoff Wilson Gender: Male Race: Hattallan (Hattallans are basically humanoid. If you don't look too hard, it's easy to miss their grey skin, long, nailless fingers, and slightly larger eyes.) Tekhst Culla: #604000 Biography: I should really stop textwalling backstories:
The Hattallans are an unusual people- at age seven, they begin to manifest their individual magical abilities, which can vary from "maintain freshness of foods" to "heat metals" to "teleport group." If someone's ability is to sense the abilities of others, they're automatically taken and trained for the priesthood. Priests serve an important purpose: their society is divided by the strengths of their abilities, and it's up to the priests where people are placed. About four fifths of people are Minors, whose powers aren't really terribly useful. They form the lower, working class. Four fifths of the remaining people are considered Moderates- their abilities are more potent. They're generally considered to be more useful people, so they are educated well and prepared for minor leadership roles. The remaining 4% are the Majors, those whose abilities enable them to effect great change for a large number of people. Majors are always important people in whichever village they live in, whether they are businessfolk or rulers. There are also the Masters, whose abilities outclass even the Majors. Often, they are those who can redirect a river, alter the weather, or destroy whole towns. They are, without exception, the highest rulers in Hattal, because their abilities allow them to improve the lives of people everywhere. Well, that and there's no-one to stop them from taking power anyway.
It's a flawed system, but it works. For the most part, malevolent rulers are deposed by other Masters, and capable people are put into leadership roles.
When Geoff turned seven, he was brought before the high priest of his town, a blind man named Ardent. He was placed on the pedestal before the priest, and his parents said the traditional words of request. "Please, oh Ardent, beseech Kol on our behalf and reveal unto us this child's gifts." The assorted townsfolk, Geoff's extended family three generations back among them, chimed in, "Be it beseech-ed."
The priest, however, didn't reply with the traditional hand-waving and chant. Instead, he turned to Geoff's parents and said, "We must obey the traditions. Please, place your child upon the pedestal."
My parents, confused, told him that their son was in fact already there, and the crowd murmured their agreement. Ardent, confused, reached down and felt around. There was the child, sitting distractedly on the pedestal, thinking that this was all very boring and he'd rather be playing in the woods.
A concerned look came over the priest's blank eyes, and he called for Smith, the town's only telepath. Smith came at once, and he and Ardent had a short, whispered conversation, Smith channelling someone at the Grand Temple. After a few minutes, Ardent composed himself and addressed the crowd. "It is the will of Kol that this child shall be taken to High Priestess Navora for judgement." This caused quite a murmur; Navora only saw those whose abilities could be of Master level, or occasionally high Majors. "Her Holiness' Teleporter Designate will be transporting the child and his parents momentarily." He stepped back from the pedestal, and Geoff's parents came close, stepping into the area indicated.
A moment later, Geoff's parents disappeared in a flash, leaving their son sitting, bored, on the pedestal. The crowd gasped, but Geoff was still more concerned with that huge tree he'd seen yesterday- it would be great for climbing. There was more conversation between Smith and Ardent, and a few moments later, the boy's parents were back, accompanied by, to the astonishment of everyone there, including Ardent, once someone told him, High Priestess Navora. Everyone bowed their heads and murmured the customary words of respect, and even Geoff had the good sense to pay attention. Silently, she moved her hands around the boy, making complicated, graceful gestures.
What he would later dub the Testing lasted for a week and a half. Moderates and Majors came by the dozens, testing the boy, trying to affect him with their abilities. Alec the Electric came, much to the delight of everyone there, and made a show of shooting lightning bolts straight through him. Therra Fieldstar summoned a few minor faeries, all of whom saw him visually but couldn't sense him spiritually. They passed through him as easily as they would a stone wall, not regarding him as a person at all.
On the last day of the Testing, everything changed. While Joland failed to kill the boy and Sophia failed to sense him, a mob approached the tent that had been set up, torches blazing. They confronted the people examining him, saying that his lack of spiritual presence meant he had no soul. This, of course, meant he had to be burned alive.
Most of the testers agreed with this logic and promptly tied him to a post. He would've been burned right then and there if High Priestess Navora hadn't had him teleported away at the last minute. She explained to the townsfolk that Our Lord Kol had stricken the abomination from the land and that all was well.
Geoff was sad, at first. He missed his parents and siblings, but this eventually passed. It had to, if he was to survive. Navora trained and taught him herself, and as far as teachers went, she was among the toughest. She expected everything of him, and she wouldn't let him rest until he had given it to her.
He wouldn't realize her real lesson until years later. When he was seventeen, he ran away. He slipped out past the guards, disguised himself as a Minor, and left with the shift change. She put out bulletins demanding his arrest, but he moved along, never staying in one place for too long and staying ahead of the High Guard. He did odd jobs here and there, helped out during the harvest in exchange for a few meals and a place to sleep, that sort of thing.
After a few months of travelling under the assumed name Geoff Wilson, he arrived in a small village in the wake of a catastrophe. The town chronicler, Abe Joldan, had been accused of murder, and he was to be executed in three days' time. When he heard that a stranger was in town, he asked to see him. He offered Geoff a hefty sum to clear his name- he was an unbiased outsider, the man said, so he was in the best position to make a rational and unbiased judgment.
He couldn't afford not to accept his offer, so for the next three days, he asked around, gathering information and probing for facts. He asked the right questions and saw things they took for granted, and he found enough proof to prove his client innocent. The real culprit was hanged, and Abe Joldan went free. He was extremely grateful, and he pointed Geoff to a cousin of his in the city of Ederett, one of the largest cities in Hattal. His cousin Art was a sheriff there, and he was looking for someone with Geoff's investigative skills.
He made his way to Ederett and tracked down Art, who got him started. After a few months of working with him, he bought a small building a short ways from the market and put up a few signs. He made a decent living solving peoples' various problems, and every now and then, a case would pique his interest and he'd offer his assistance free of charge.
When he was twenty-nine, the High Priestess' entourage came to town to judge a pair of suspected Masters. He steered clear of the ceremonies, wanting to avoid being arrested by the High Guard.
It was pointless, of course. She came to his office the first day she was in town. He was sitting behind his desk, writing up a report for the sheriff. He didn't look up as she entered. â€œThey still argue over what you would be classed,â€ she said softly.
â€œI'm still an abomination to them,â€ He replied harshly, still looking down at the parchment.
She didn't say anything for a moment, the scratching of his pen the only sound in the room. â€œ...In a way, yes. But they respect what you've done.â€
â€œThey know where I am?â€ He stood up sharply, ready to leave Ederett immediately. He'd made emergency preparations, and he could burn his home to the ground in five minutes if necessary.
She laughed. â€œNo, no, calm down. They know about Geoff Wilson, the independent investigator. They know he's a good and resourceful man, whose ability to see colours more vividly than normal helps him notice small details. His ability barely classifies him as a Moderate, but his investigative skills are extraordinary. When those get him into trouble, it's his luck and speed that get him out of dangerous situations alive.â€
Geoff frowned at her. â€œBut I don't have any papers. I'm not on the Moderate registry.â€
She laughed and turned to the door. â€œYou've been in the book for years now, Geoff. The Blessed Kol Orphanage in South Kortente has your judgement papers, they just haven't been able to find you ever since you ran away.â€
He stared after her as she walked out the door. Something clicked. He chuckled a bit, then called after her. â€œWho are you looking for?â€
â€œYou always were sharp,â€ she said, walking back in. She sat down at his desk and explained her situation: The twin Masters was a cover. She was on the tail of another â€œabominationâ€ she'd rescued. He hadn't turned out as well as Geoff had, and he'd killed six guards as he escaped the temple. He would have killed her, too, if she hadn't spotted the tripwire.
She left a hole in her security at the ceremony the next day, and the killer made his attempt. Unfortunately, the sleeping powder he used on her guard somehow failed to put him to sleep, and he was tied up before he got on stage. The twin children were determined to be only Majors, and the High Priestess returned home the next day, her captive in tow.
Geoff kept working. He took a few high-profile cases every now and then, and he had a narrow scrape with Ardent coming to the city, but things were otherwise normal.
His name is Geoff Wilson. If you've got a problem, come see him. He'll see what he can do.
Cool Shit You Can Do: Geoff does not extend into the realm of magic. A bolt of magic lightning will go straight through him, and supernatural beings pass through as well. Other than that, he's an ordinary Hattallan with a penchant for noticing things. It's his job to deduce, and that's what he does best. Cool Weapons You Have: As a reward for proving his son's innocence, a weapons maker crafted Geoff a smallish crossbow. The man's ability was enchanting quivers to replenish themselves, so Geoff has no shortage of bolts. Description: Geoff is average height for a Hattallan, 6'2", and he usually covers his hairless head with a traditional brown toque. When going into an investigation, he usually dresses in nondescript browns and greys.
He's quick on his feet and fairly sharp with his tongue, and he doesn't take well to intimidation. When he starts on something, he doesn't back down until it's done. Yes?: He can find out for you, but it won't be cheap. Favourite Food: Steak, char-grilled, heavily seasoned, and eaten after a good day's work. Fears: Being burned at the stake, being useless What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: He'd been working on bringing down a group of thieves that had continually eluded the sheriffs, and his case had just come together. He was just preparing to walk through the barrier protecting the backup exit in their hideout when an arm wrapped itself around his midsection and dragged him through a hole in reality. Unfortunately, the arm was part of a solid, physical being, and the hole itself wasn't magical, just the edges, so he went right through.
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
Character Name: Listed in the census as 'Photographer.' He pretty much viewed his occupation as his name. (You could call him Photo or some other little nickname)
Gender: I would go on about stuff like 'no real gender' or other crap like that but whatever, he's a guy.
Race: Uncertain. Sometimes listed in the census as 'sub-human', sometimes 'mutant.' He prefers 'appliance,' but some people are uncomfortable with that.
Tekhst Culla: Boop
Cool Shit You Can Do: Photographer has a strong telepathy, though he doesn't really use it. It bothers him to be distracted by people so he suppresses it. When he is asleep, his dreams have a strange tendency to meld with the real world. Also, he is unable to suppress his telepathy, so more often than not, his dreams also take on nearby people's dreams, or even their fears. He has a dreamself, of course, one that is usually someone he'd like to be. His dreamself is always aware that it's a dream, but he doesn't really have control over anything. More often than not, his dream consists of his dreamself carrying away from whatever nightly terrors are spawned from his mind. (After all, they'll kill him.) Photographer also has empathy with inanimate objects. He can talk to them and convince them to help him out or at least share information. Objects don't exactly gain a life of their own around his presence. It's not like they could move around. But he could talk a door into staying locked for certain people or have a pencil help him write since he's actually illiterate. He also has small shapeshifting powers, but nothing really big. Just smaller/shorter more/less fingers, sprouting mouths, little things like that.
Cool Weapons You Have: Photographer doesn't really carry around much. As his name implies, he carries around a camera around his neck. He also carries around a knife for protection. They're all very good friends. He may or may not be in a relationship with the camera.
Description: Photographer is not very good around living beings. He talks to them in short, clipped sentences and trips over his words and drops into silence and all that jazz. He is much more comfortable with inanimate objects, except clothes. Clothes are touchy and defensive. He doesn't know what to think about robots. To everybody, though, he tries to be polite and seems to make himself shorter than most people, probably in an attempt to seem less threatening. He always seems to need support from others to go through with an action because he's not very sure with himself. He is pretty much easily pushed around and against violence or even simple confrontations. He is a bit narcoleptic. He also always refers to himself as 'a photographer' rather than just 'Photographer.' I will reluctantly describe Photographer as a 3-d shadow. He is pretty rectangular in shape. He tends to have stumpy legs and three blocky fingers (just because he's more comfortable with three). He is humanoid in shape because that way not many people throw stones at him. The camera hangs around his neck and his knife is just stuck conveniently in his side.
Biography: Most likely, Photographer was a lab experiment gone awry. When a college exploded, he was found wandering around the ruins, the only survivor. It is uncertain whether he was once human or had just been created spontaneously. In a world filled with dwarves and demons and sometimes fallen demigods, it was decided that though he was a freak and possibly an abomination, he was pretty harmless and so he was left to his own devices. Eventually he got a job as a photographer. He couldn't stay in any sort of apartment or house because the neighbors would then complain about his dreams crashing into their rooms. Most of the time, it seemed that people were just angry at him whether it was his boss or just some random passersby. So, he turned to inanimate objects for companionship.
Favorite Food: Meat is nice. Oh, and plants. And obnoxious clothes.
Fears: Being stuck in a room with a bunch of animates. Becoming obsolete or losing his purpose/the camera.
What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Taking a picture of said big horrifying arm because it would really make a good shot for the newspaper.
Gender: Robot, Masculine
Race:Machine, Sentient battery robot
Tekhst Culla: I hope #250517 is good
Cool Shit You Can Do: Firing lightning, energy and electricity from the palms of his hands (or claws, rather) and in various ways, from aiming and firing it from pinpoint to firing bolts to shocking the ground he is standing on. Additionally, he can also fire acidic and flammable battery acid which is very conductive. He is (almost) fully immune to both the battery acid and electrical discharge.
Cool Weapons You Have: None, and does not care much for using various weaponry, with the probable exception of a taser, shock baton or a Tesla or Lightning gun.
Description:Standing at roughly 8' tall, He's a large AA-battery with legs and feet and arms with very manipulative alligatorclip-like claws for hands with a nozzle in the center for firing off electricty and even battery acid! His body is a very dark, almost black color while his head (the positive side) is a dark red with a large + for his face. Ladys and gentlemen, Give it up for Das UberBatterie!
Biography: Berlin, 1944. In a top secret bunker under the earth, Germany works on a top secret project to surely turn the tide of the war in their favor; A legion of supersolider robot battalions. One of theese were to be the Roboter Primabatterie Kommandos. They were just about ready to deploy them when a stray allied bomber dropped his load (Quite literally, I am afraid) all over the computer mainframe. All the while the final step of uploading the directives onto the robot was being processed. This caused a series of freak explosions which blew up the facility and stopped the Nazis from deploying the Roboter Primabatteries and thus helping the allies win the war. Uberbatterie however, survived yet his directives were only roughly 25% uploaded. What was supposed to be uploaded into him was various aryan nonsense. Yet what he got was various blanks for ____ being the master race.
Almost 50 years later, He decides that the missing space was walking, sentient superbatterys much like himself. He storms Area51, Roswell, New mexico to obtain US plans for a very similar (if not outright stolen) plan of making Robot Superbatteries. Now, he trys to find the tools and materials to build his dream, occasionally stealing energy from energy substations to fuel himself.
Favorite Food: UberBatterie's favorite "Food" is good old Zinc and manganese-oxide, with alkaline electrodes. In other words, Alkaline batterys. But most other batterys and battery acid is good too, as well as pure electricity. Ingested through hands. Cannot (or possibly will not) eat organic foods
Fears:His main fear (Although he would never admit it) is water. More specificly, having to swim. A bit of water on him or even a rainstorm is fine, he actually enjoys it when theres lightning. And even then, he is designed (not to mention upgraded, among other things) not to rust. Plus, water is very conductive and thus may even improve his attack power (as well as damage recived). No, the problem happens to be bodys of water that are deeper then he is. Simply put, he cant swim. He just sinks to the bottem. And while he is almost immune to rusting and corrosion, they still can happen to him. And he fears this happening to him. He also is not a huge fan of compounds resistant to electricity
What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Recharging near a generator.
Joined: Aug 1900
Originally posted on MSPA by Thurandul.
Not too late is it? I was going to post this a while ago, but I was a bit tired.
Character Name: Wardell 'Ward' Paraswon
Tekhst Culla: #37466
Cool Shit You Can Do: Infinite amount of books in his coat, any book about anything from any time from any world. Use's his scarf as two extra long arms. Remember everything he reads. (There are many things he has not read)
Cool Weapons You Have: None, unless the books count, and the scarf arms. The weapon of knowledge!
Description: Brown messy hair, Brown eyes. Long dark red scarf. Large brown coat. Mountain boots, for climbing stairs. Shorts. Blue t-shirt with a rhino on it. Pale skin from wearing a coat all the time, and staying inside. Biography:
He inherited it from his Grandfather who was a notorious book thief. Okay I lie. No book thief could ever be notorious. No one would care if you went around pinching books from libraries. So his grandfather gave him this amazing coat that can produce an infinite amount of books from within. His grand mother was a jealous sort so knitted a magical scarf. Well just a normal white scarf which she soaked in blood because Grandmother was creepy and disturbed in the head like that.
He uses his objects that he inherited to go around solving mysteries, seeking treasures, reading books and creeping people out by reading from their biography. He enjoys being hired to kill ghosts and ghouls, which he does not believe in, but then he read a book about them and seems to be an expert on something he believes does not exist.
Yes?: Charming suggestion to be sure, but I'm nearly finish this chapter. Favorite Food: He enjoys eating a bagel and drinking a coffee, in a cafe while reading a large book. Not for the bagel or the coffee. Not even for the book's fine and fascinating tale, if rather long-winded, but to look at people over the tip of his book and wonder what they are doing in their lives. He associates the bagel to this pleasure making it his favorite food. Fears: Water, The Grand Encyclopedia of the deceased, Demonic tomes. What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Beating an old woman over the head with a copy of sense and sensibility so she would let go of the newest hiking boots on the market, which are more comfortable then Hiking boots X-021, you know this because they are called Hiking boots X-022. Why does an old woman need hiking boots anyway!? Sure, could have just whipped out a book called 'How to make the best hiking boots ever', but I don't get to choose which book I pull out, that would take years. If I could just pull any book out I would have been beating her with ' A Brief History of Time' not 'Sense and Sensibility'.
Cool Shit You Can Do: Ghosting - the ability to make his body completely intangible. With extra concentration, he can maintain tangibility in one part of his body while keeping the rest ghosted. Heals most injuries with a single round of ghosting and reforming, but a phantom version of the pain still persists for some time. Zephyr can't ghost if he's in serious pain; it's too hard for him to concentrate.
Cool Weapons You Have: None, other than his heavy boots which prevent him from an impromptu appointment with the Earth's core, thanks to the enmeshed anti-ghosting fibres. On the flipside, his feet can't ghost through stuff while he wears them, not to mention it makes 'em damn heavy.
Description: An awkwardly tall 18-year-old who'd qualify as lightweight for someone quite a bit shorter than him. A mess of scruffy white hair that may've been blonde once, before stress and adverse conditions bleached it. Pale blue eyes, and 20/20 vision; though he gives the air of someone who spends far too much time indoors. Wearing his military-issue boots, cargo trousers, and a singlet. The fabric is ingrained again with special fibres that let Zephyr keep his modesty when he goes around being intangible in public. Other than this, he has no other accessories or possessions, because they fall out/off him as soon as he ghosts. Personality-wise, Zephyr is soft-spoken, tacit, and skittish around people. Like a wild animal, he spooks easily and resorts to cowardice with alarming alacrity. He'd need to be in a tough situation to make him resort to aggression, but when he does it's always messy.
Biography: Harking from a world where approximately ten percent of the population show supernatural skills, and are kept segregated from the masses in secure, secluded city-states, Zephyr possessed the rarer, less-understood talent known colloquially as "ghosting", and was as good as military property from as far back as he can remember, and was subjected to all sorts of testing of his abilities - he still has the scars from some trials, but would never talk about them. He has no memories of how he acquired his powers, or of having ever lived outside the military facility. School was his lone chance for freedom, but growing up in his conditions developed in him a prison mentality, leaving him unwilling or unable to engage his peers
Yes?: Hells to the
Favorite Food: Normally subsists on a diet of nutritionally balanced food pills.
Fears: Blood, gore, other people, and self-disfigurement.
What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Judging by the fact I forgot to fill this in the first time round, something dreadfully boring. Let's say he was lying on his bed (panelled with ghost-proof metal plates; as uncomfortable as the rest of his small room) hoping his evening ration of two food pills was gonna show up sooner rather than later. (Kind of a pointless hope, seeing as it was always automatically dispensed on the hour, without fail - but that's the kind of kid/freak Zephyr is.)
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
I just remembered that I have a character who would utterly despise being entered in this particular battle.
Therefore, I will write up his profile shortly.
Character Name: Sirius
Tekhst Culla: This one any good?
Cool Shit You Can Do: Fly, cast some magic. Really powerful holy magic, no dark magic, somewhat weaker magic of other elements.
Cool Weapons You Have: No weapons per se. He wears a suit of enchanted armor, which protects him and allows him to focus magic more easily.
Description: Tall, blond-haired guy. With wings. Has no sense of humor at all. In fact, he has a negative sense of humor, and can't stand anything silly.
Yes, he gets upset if you point out the irony in his name.
Biography: A minor angel who had to watch over a very, very, very silly world, and hated every minute of it. He is sick of the silliness that pervades his world, and is willing to go to great lengths to make it a not-silly places.
Yes?: No, no, no, a thousand times no.
Favorite Food: Angels don't need to eat, and he's not the type to try.
Fears: Being trapped in an utterly ridiculous situation. (Hence why I am entering him here.)
What Were You Doing When A Big Horrifying Arm Grabbed You Out Of Space: Watching over the exceedingly silly world below with disgust.
Joined: Aug 1900
Originally posted on MSPA by Archduke_Ferdinand. Imagine if you took a recipe for homemade noodles, ran out of liquid halfway through, and decided to replace the missing volume with LSD. Then stretched that batter into a tube shape, baked it, and then somehow shrunk down to the size of an ant and began being hurled through its technicolor hallucinogenic insides at 100 mph. This is something akin to what was experienced by each Engagement contestant as the Eccentric's hideous limbs drew them forth into his realm. After a short time they all found themselves extended from the massive ever-shifting entity, held out nearly 200 yards from him in the black void, suspended. With a flash, a huge lavender platform, shaped in a circle, formed beneath them 20 feet down and began glowing with every color the contestants could see and several they couldn't.
A hissing static woosh went by each contestant, followed by a moment of galactic silence- and then elevator music began to play, rushing past each contestant's ears as a voice called over it- high pitched, female, and soothing.
"Please hold while your ridiculously inept bodies are calibrated for universal suitability. Your language centers will be modified to allow you all to speak natively in the default language specified for your time here. The default language for this engagement is..."
A brief pause lapsed before a significantly gruffer voice droned out. "Finnish."
"Your bodies will be made capable of surviving more or less tolerably in a variety of climes. From the desert to the ocean floor, or even the ninth ring of the underworld, you'll be in fighting shape! Or you'll die. Please hold."
The Eccentric's head formed into a rough cylindrical shape with 16 red globes forming in its maw. A field of red lasers engulfed each contestant as the modifications were forcibly added.
"There. Wasn't that easy? Please enjoy your stay, and your participation here in the Delicious Engagement."
The nine were unceremoniously dropped as the limbs that held them receded into the Eccentric's towering body. The celestial being grappled onto apparently nothing at all and swung itself down towards the large platform, speaking as it went, taking on a loud announcerly tone.
"Good evening contestants, and welcome to the Delicious Engagement! Folks, we're here to tell you now that this competition is a little something special, and just a touch under the radar- but it's perfectly official, sucks to any pretentious PACK A DAY SMOKER WITH A FANCY TIE WHO SAYS OTHERWISE."
Shaking its head and laughing from the sudden outburst, the Eccentric proceeded to roll itself down under the platform, sickeningly lurching its oozing black junkpile base to the bottom of the platform. It stretched its torso out, up, and over the side of the platform and leered at them.
"This here is called the Delicious Engagement, where all of you will be tested in your capabilities. There will be eight rounds of combat- and in each one, one of you lucky folks will PAINT THE TOWN RED. THE OTHERS WILL SPILL YOU ACROSS THE LANDSCAPE AND RECYCLE YOUR CARBON INTO WRITING STICKS."
The Eccentric's form quivered and glopped mightily as it spoke.
"BUT FIRST LET'S SEE OUR distinguished contestants." It laughed a guttural, unnatural laugh, presumably also in Finnish. (Everyone can be presumed to be speaking Finnish unless otherwise specified from this point on.)
"This here is Steinwaffe, a stone man from a boring Earth place called Germany who PROTECTS YOUR PRECIOUS JESUS STONES OR WHATEVER YOU KEEP IN THE REAL ESTATE RESERVED FOR YOUR GOD. SERIOUSLY I DON'T EVEN KNOW, STEINWAFFE. YOU SEEM BORING. He can kill the undead something fierce and CHUGS MILK RIGHT OUT THE CARTON."
"And speaking of boring Earth gods, here's our good friend Swhales, who according to my quick glossary search is one of Earth's largest sea mammals, capable of breathing underwater for hours at a time, and full of muscle! THE ADDITION OF HIS UNHOLY PANTHEON NECKLACE MAKES HIM PARTICULARLY DANGEROUS. Well, if he can get in touch with a god saner than I am."
"The Brackett-eer here can PLAY WATER POLO IN SPACE if he opens a door there, first! And that door is at the bottom of a swimming pool. HE HAS CONTROL OVER THINGS WITH HINGES AND HANDLES. THIS IS CONSIDERED AMAZING BY HIM AND HIS MOTHER IF SHE FEELS KIND. LORD. IMAGINE HER PRIDE. YES NANCY MY SON? OH WHAT IS HIS PROFESSION? REAAAALLY GOOD AT OPENING DOORS. I WIPE MY JOY TEAR TO THE SIDE FROM JOY ALONE. Chasing him around in a mansion is going to get you nowhere at all."
"The guy who thinks his last name is clever can summon a playdough creature who mauls people if he's feeling threatened, so presumably his time in school was an absolute bloodbath."
"I can't really get a good grip on the grey alien one over there. It's like my gaze goes right through him AHAHA THAT WAS FUNNY AND A JOKE. HE'S A BLANK. MAGIC'LL DO NOTHING TO HIM. PEOPLE ON HIS WORLD THINK IT'S FASCINATING. According to things he left around his house and a couple people from his town he's a private detective or something. So that's combat ready. Remember, Geoff, being unable to be read magically is only helpful when you don't leave stuff or people about that I /can/."
"The cameraman is THE PHOTOGRAPHER, A MAN WHOSE SPECIALTY IS TAKING PICTURES OF THINGS, SOME OF WHICH MAY HAVE HANDLES AND OR HINGES. DOESN'T EVEN OPEN THEM. THIS BATTLE IS A PLETHORA OF COMPETENCY."
"THE ROBED MAN HAS UNLIMITED ACCESS TO ALL THE EARTH FETISH VOLUMES IN EXISTENCE. In addition to other volumes as well."
"The one in the metal box/bed who I haven't bothered to actually let out of said box is a dude who can make himself immaterial. Maybe even to me. I'LL BE PUZZLING OUT A WAY TO KILL YOU REGARDLESS THOUGH, WHICH MEANS ME AND THE OTHER CONTESTANTS ARE GETTING MORE IN COMMON ALREADY."
"And finally we have an angel named Sirius who is a total party animal I swear. It's like OH SNAP WHERE'S THE BOOZE GLUG GLUG I AM SIRIUS."
Sirius suddenly found himself wearing a toga and a fraternity button of the Lambda Omicron Lambda House.
"So, I just explained everything pretty well. Time for.... ROUND 0 of the DELICIOUS ENGAGEMENT! It takes place... Right here! Partially because I am finding a suitable multiverse location for your first actual blood-tastic duel and also so you all can MAKE FRIENDSIES. OKAY SO. THE FIRST ONE TO DO SOMETHING SUFFICIENTLY INTERESTING AS TO CONSTITUTE WINNING.... IS MY FAVORITE. AND THEN AT SOME POINT I'LL FIND A PLACE FOR YOU ALL TO KILL ONE ANOTHER. Have a good time. Dance puppets. Dance."
Round 0, everyone.
Primary Objective: Do something interesting enough to constitute winning.
Secondary Objective: Make friendsies
Takes Place: Right here, right now.
(Don't worry guys, only gonna have this last a day or so. Just a fun meet n'greet kind of thing. Bloodshed soon enough. Feel free to directly bother The Eccentric if you've got the stones, this may be the last time you get to for awhile.)