Name: Crash Vega.
Race: Human.
Age: Twenty-six.
Sex: Male

Appearance: Crash Vega is a remarkable figure of a man. His features are distinct with broad shoulders, a heavily muscled frame that just peaks at seven feet tall, strong jaw, and piercing green eyes that sparkle whenever he grins; which is to say always. His hair is long and shaggy, dark brown and reaching down to just below his eyes, and no attempt has been made to manage the thick, tangled mess. A thin layer of stubble runs along his jaw, darkening it slightly, and his skin, darkly tanned and covered in scars from a thousand different wounds, seem to show some faint patterns of unknown origin. Barely visible except up close, they mostly cover his chest, arms, and neck in indistinct shapes, but can be found on his legs and face as well.

Seemingly a stranger to modesty, Crash is happy to show off his muscled torso, a thick grey-green coat worn over his upper body with the buttons left undone, no undershirt worn beneath it, and a thick band of orange material wrapped around his right bicep and tied tightly. Loose green trousers cover his legs, held up by a thick brown leather belt, and end in hefty leather boots capped with iron. Tough leather gloves wrap around his hands, fingerless, and the knuckles covered in iron bands, matching his sturdy, protected boots. A long, orange scarf is worn loosely around his shoulders, over his jacket and looped once around his neck.

History: Crash’s early life is a mystery, even to the conclave elders that raised him. He was orphaned at an extremely young age, only a newborn at the time, brought to the Shenjiang Conclave on the Rumbia border in the middle of a harsh winter by a feminine figure in a green cloak. The cold took her life as she stumbled towards the conclave and the monks, usually secretive and isolated, could not turn away the freezing infant that she clutched tightly in her arms. They took him in as one of their own, knowing not where the woman wished to take the young boy, and hoped to provide him a safe home away from whatever his “mother” wished to take him away from. Crash grew healthy and strong in his new home, weathered from any and all information about his past; he knew he was not like the other children, born in a land far away from the conclave, but it hardly mattered to him. He had a home, so why worry?

His transition into adolescence was defined by the spiritual and physical teachings of the conclave elders. Crash was rash, impulsive, and practices in patience were wasted on him. He struggled to understand their teachings, although not for lack of trying. He was deathly loyal to the conclave that had raised him, but the difference of ideologies made relations strained at times, particularly with his teacher, Zidiah Zher, who was otherwise like a father to him. Crash did, however, excel at their physical training, learning the Shenjiang Conclave’s style of swift, fluid martial arts with ease, and even devoting his time to practicing his own style of slower, heavier martial arts that focused on heavy strikes and debilitating blows; an extremely controversial style among the Shenjiang Conclave, but an effective style regardless.

From an early age Crash showed signs of being more than what he appeared; strong, smart, and resourceful, if rash and impatient, and constantly with strange, recurring dreams. He dreamt of himself, older and stronger than he was now. He dreamt of fire, emerald green and endlessly fierce. He thrust his hand into the fire without thinking, grabbing and wrenching an enormous silver blade free from it. He felt no pain, only power as the green flames rushed up his arm. It moved with him effortlessly, despite his lack of training and the sheer size and weight of the blade, and he brought it over his shoulder. The faint markings that lined his body, almost like pale tattoos, began to glow the same emerald green and then ignited, as he turned to face-

The dream never went further than that, When he first went to the elders they waved it off as nothing more than a dream, but Zidiah suspected something more. By the tenth time they became slightly more suspicious, although none seemed capable of explaining these vivid dreams to Crash. Zidiah insisted that Crash undergo more extensive mental training, suspecting something more, but nothing truly came of it in the end.

So, with no answers, he persuaded himself that they were just that. Dreams.

The conflict with the Iramu giant clan was what first contested the conclave’s views on pacifism. Tensions grew quickly and seemingly out of nowhere, as the giant clan seemed to take interest in the fortress that the Shenjiang Conclave had lived in for generations, while the inhabitants merely wanted to stay and live there peacefully. In an attempt to formally solve the dispute, the giant chieftain, Tia’Iramu, was invited to the conclave to discuss the situation in peace. Tia’Iramu did not arrive, instead usurped by his son, Irga’Iramu, who brought giant berserkers and war tamed beasts the size of buildings with him. Violent and tyrannical, wielding an enormous silver blade with a rusted orange hilt, Irga’Iramu brought hellfire down upon the conclave. Giants broke down the gates, tearing through the conclave’s defences with ease. The monks of the conclave had all trained in martial arts since children, and put up a desperate struggle against their attackers, but what they made up for with skill they lacked in strength and a willingness to kill. Staying true to their strong beliefs on pacifism, the monks only disabled their giant foes rather than killing them, while the giants attacked with wild abandon, making them almost impossible to control.

Perhaps one of the most capable fighters of the conclave, Crash stood at the front lines, defending himself and the conclave with enormously fierce strikes, landing heavy blows on the joints of giants, dropping them with remarkable precision and force. By the time it had taken three monks to tackle one giant he had already dropped two by himself. He fought defensively, until he saw his mentor, Zidiah, stand up against the giant Igra’Iramu and begged for peace. The man was cut down in an instant by the enormous blade the giant wielded.

Something clicked with Crash then. His mentor had fallen, and that sword… it was the sword he had dreamt about, he knew it. Like a man possessed, Crash charged the giant chieftain, a monster over twice his size. He tore through the giant’s personal guard with strikes strong enough to break the bones of even giants, and challenged the chieftain to single combat. Irga’Iramu laughed. What threat could a mere human pose to him?

While the giant laughed, Crash wrenched a dagger from the grip of another fallen giant and dug it deep into Irga’Iramu’s leg, tearing out the calf muscle completely.

The chieftain, while weakened, was still enormously powerful, and the battle between the two was fierce. Irga’Iramu was strong and possessed a mighty magical sword, but Crash was swift, agile, and possessed supernatural strength that only seemed to grow in the presence of the giant king’s sword. In fact, as Crash’s strength grew the chieftain’s faltered, and as the fight came to a close the two seemed equally matched in power. The giant brought his sword over in an enormous overhead swing, planning to crush Crash beneath the weight of the dull blade, but he only met resistance as Crash, arms stretched out above his head, caught the blade. He wrenched it from the hands of the giant as as he did it burst into green flames, engulfing the sword and setting those faint patterns along his skin an emerald green. He leapt high into the sky, the sword high above his head, and drew the blade directly down Irga’Iramu’s body, slaying the tyrant in an instant. His surviving kin fled soon after.

With the giants slain, the monks of the conclave came out of hiding. The sounds of battle had ended, but peace was not restored. Crash had killed in the presence of the conclave, and while many were thankful for forcing the giants back, he had betrayed one of their most sacred oaths. He was banished from the conclave, given only the most basic of equipment to survive and nothing more. Crash saw this as an opportunity. He bid his friends farewell and, along with what small rations the conclave had given him, he took the enormous hulking sword from the slain chieftain that hummed with arcane energy. He decided what he would do now quickly; he would learn to use the sword and find out what it was. It was a Sacred Arm, he was sure, but why did it seem so intrinsically linked to him? He did not know, but he believed he would soon find out. Befitting his new life, Crash forgot his old name and took up a new one, and set out into the great wilds beyond.

Other: Theme.

Sacred Arm: Arcane Arm, Reaver Riot.

Standard form; Titansblade.
In its standard form, Reaver Riot resembles an oversized double-edged straight sword, littered with dents and scratches that make it look less like a powerful arcane weapon and more like a scrapped antique. The Reaver Riot is a sword designed for a giant, and is certainly too large for any ordinary human to use it. Yet, Crash has no trouble hefting the eight-foot long silver blade, and can use the blunt blade equally as a weapon and as a shield, hiding behind the flat of the blade.

The hilt and handle, a hefty piece of rusted orange metal in its own right, possesses two triggers, and three lines run vertically down the blade; one in the centre and two just to the sides of that. Upon pulling the triggers the outer two lines separate, pushing the blade edges outwards and revealing two large cannons hidden within the blade. Another pull of the triggers fire them, launching huge, fist-sized spheres of metal and an eruption of green energy at whatever the blade it pointed at. The cannons have no trigger to retreat into the blade, and Crash usually just opts to bash Reaver Riot against something until they slot back into place.

Alternate form; Broadside Barragers.
The central vertical line hides no secret cannons, but instead shows where two separate weapons seal together. The Reaver Riot can, when forced a little bit, split in half, transforming into two single-edged straight swords that are each wielded in one han. The guns remain fully functional and the swords can be used much more swiftly than they could in their true form, especially when utilising the bladed edge, the hefty blunt side, and the firearms concealed within in tandem.

Overbreak form; Endless Overload.
Removing anything close to what could be considered a limiter, one side of Reaver Riot’s blade breaks away, exposing the raw, volatile arcane converter that channels Crash’s own arcane energy into the sword. The back half remains functional, still allowing the use of the blunt bladed edge and cannon, although Reaver Riot ceases to be able to be split in two. Instead, where a blade once sat at the forward end, a torrent of green arcane energy pours forth like fire, seeming to crystallise where the blade once ended to mimic what was lost. Along with supreme cutting power beyond anything Reaver Riot had before, in this form it can fire powerful blades of green energy to strike at a distance, or singular blasts of energy with a blade thrust.

Unleashed form; Hymnsblade.
No longer is the sword a giant’s weapon crudely used by a human. Arcane Arms unleash the wielder’s magical potential, and a true wielder needs a weapon designed for him and him alone. The rest of the blade sheds away, revealing a large, slender bastard sword made of silver, etched arcane runes running up the edge of the blade that glow white. Green energy engulfs the blade as it does in Overbreak form, but burns with an intensity far greater than before, the flames taking on the rough shape of the huge buster blade it once resembles. While it lacks the crude hitting power of its most basic form its energy generation is exceptional,

Name: "Genbu"

Age: Roughly 400, though he looks to be in his late thirties.

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Appearance: Genbu is a man of average height and build, but possesses the physique and discipline of a supreme soldier. His features are mostly unremarkable, apart from his obviously foreign heritage, with a sharp chin, crooked nose and a rough, shaggy beard. Interestingly for a warrior, not a single scar mars his face or body. His eyes are dark and deep-set, and his gaze is seemingly unfocused; staring through the world rather than looking at it. Long, black hair is typically tied back in a high ponytail, when not obscured by a straw farmer's hat. Worn, dark robes carrying the sigils of his forgotten clan are his typical attire, though in battle he sometimes dons a patchwork suit of armor: a curious mix between traditional plate armor and the traditional scaled armor of his homeland.

Bio: The man known as "Genbu" was born in a far off land, in a time long since past. His many years have not been kind to his memory, and so he remembers little of his early life. His childhood, parents, and even his birth name are lost to the abyss of time. He remembers having been born into a wealthy and powerful clan of warrior-nobles (the "bushi," sometimes "samurai" in his native tongue) in service of a feudal lord. He was raised as a professional soldier, and proved his skill in battle from an early age. However, the elders of his clan plotted against their master, and his clan was purged as punishment. Whether by luck or fate Genubu survived these purges, and was left as a warrior without a master. Tradition would dictate that such a warrior should commit honorable suicide, but Genbu was an impetuous young man with much to prove, and so set out as knight-errant; an outlaw for hire, called "ronin."

Mercenary work came easily to Genbu, as the destruction of his clan had hardened his heart to other, smaller tragedies. Sometimes employed by feuding nobles, other times by criminal organizations, Genbu's profession was steel and death, and he was skilled in it. It came to be that in one instance he was hired by a village to track down and kill a rampant demon, or "oni," and so ventured into the mountains to slay the monster. Instead of a hideous ogre, he instead found a beautiful woman who pleaded with him to spare her life. A monster all the same to Genbu, he battled her for hours on end, until she eventually gained the upper hand and mortally wounded him with her magic sword. Genbu remembers little of what happened after, but when he regained his senses the demon had disappeared, and he was left with her sword, which had bound itself to his soul.

Cursed with immortality by the Eldritch Arm now in his possession, Genbu wandered the land, honing his skill in arms to become the greatest warrior of all. He mastered secret and mystic styles of combat and swordsmanship taught by ascetic monks and spirits of the land, and his skill was without compare. However, the worst fate that could befall a soldier then swept through his homeland: peace. With the warring lords united under a single emperor, Genbu departed his homeland to find a place where a soldier of his calibre could find employment.

He arrived at a nation called Galadia during a time called the Age of Wars and Blood. Surely there could be no greater opportunity for a warrior, and so he spent more than a century as an unkillable mercenary, owing his allegiance to whoever paid him the most. However, his many years of killing and committing other atrocities wore on him, and he began to feel empty inside. Devoid of peace and meaningful relationships, he began to despair at his endless life. He sunk into a depressed stupor for many decades, wandering in search of anything that could end his miserable existence. He found no solace in this time, though he lost many of his memories and his skills dulled from the superhuman peak at which they once stood. In time his despair lessened, as his mortal anxieties began to fade away. He still wanders the land in search of an honorable death, though he accepts that his time will come as fate decides it, and in the meantime wishes to heal his damaged soul.

Other: Theme

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: Genbu is bound to the Eldritch Arm known as Kokorowatari (meaning "the passage across the heart"). Its normal state is that of a traditional curved sword with a single blade, typical of Genbu's homeland. While its length can change dramatically, it naturally takes the shape of an "odaichi," a usually ceremonial sword nearly as long as Genbu is tall. The handle is black leather with red wrappings, and the golden crossguard resembles the face of a snarling demon.

Kokorowatari does not augment Genbu's skills in any particular way; rather, it imbues him with immortality. He does not age, and he is untouched by disease and other illness. His body has remarkable regenerative abilities, to the point where it is seemingly impossible for him to die. Wounds from blades, arrows, fire or other weapons heal moments after being inflicted, and he can even recover lost limbs by reattaching them from where they were severed. That is not to say that he does not feel pain, though after centuries of battle his tolerance is much greater than a common man. Poisons rarely affect him, nor do drugs or other substances. Genbu theorizes that the only ways that he can truly die would be to have his head completely cut off in a single stroke (a fate that he has only nearly, but not completely, suffered), or for his entire body to be incinerated.

Standard Form: As mentioned, Kokorowatari's typical form is that of a typical ceremonial greatsword from Genbu's homeland, though its length can change to suit his needs; varying from a short sword ("wakizashi") to the maximum of its natural length. Even as a seemingly-mundane sword, its craftsmanship is supernatural in its quality; it never dulls, never breaks, and is sharp enough to cut a leaf flowing down a gentle stream.

Alternate Form: Rather than assume the form of another weapon, Kokorowatari can instead split into two identical swords, which can change in length as well.

Overbreak Form: If Genbu achieves a state of sufficient focus and bloodlust, Kokorowatari unleashes its Overbreak form: Kokorowatari no Akuma ("the devil's passage across the heart"). In this state, the blade does not undergo any significant physical changes, though the grip and crossguard fall off, and the blade's length cannot change from its natural state as a massive greatsword. Kokorowatari no Akuma is a blade of demon-killing, and inflicts tremendous damage to supernatural entities with even the slightest wound. As well, Genbu's regenerative abilities are increased dramatically; he recovers from wounds often faster than they can be inflicted to him. Even if he were to lose a limb, a new one would regrow completely from the severance before the old limb hit the ground.

Unleashed Form: Little is known about the true form of this Eldritch Arm, most of all how to unlock it. The Unleashed from is known as Yumewatari ("the passage across the dream"), and takes the shape of a short sword without a grip or crossguard. It is said to be a blade of demon-reviving, though what this means and how it can be used are both mostly unknown. Genbu suspects that it is in this form that the sword was passed down to him, as it healed him from a wound that should have killed him.

Name: Nicholas Piro
Age: 22
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Nicholas has a very scrawny build, probably due to years of malnutrition. He isn't particularly tall, standing at only 5' 7". Nicholas tries his best to avoid attention whenever possible, and his smallish size helps. Despite his preference for anonymity, his striking facial features tend to make him stand out. He has jet black hair, and eyes so blue, they are almost purple. his sharp nose indicates some sort of noble blood in his lineage, though his apparel shows that such lineage has never been recognized. Nicholas wears shabby clothes that blend in with the working class of most cities, but allow a large range of movement. Anything that inhibits his mobility is soon sold or discarded. His biggest luxury is a sturdy cloak that keeps the weather off of him, and can serve to hide his features when needed.

Bio: Nicholas grew up in the slums of a large city. He never knew his father, and his mother died when he was young, leaving him orphaned on the streets. Nicholas's sharp eyes, and sharp mind, let him pick up on some of the dirtier secrets of the city. He learned to pick pockets, and the occasional knick knack from a shopkeeper's shelf. Once he stole enough that he thought he might be able to live comfortably, until a visit from the local gangs left him bruised, battered, and poorer than before. He resented them, but learned his lesson. He stole only enough to get by, never enough to attract the attention of the local gangs again. At least, until he saw it.

Some foppish noble walking around with a beautiful midnight blue opal swirling with shades of blue embedded in a golden bracelet. The gem called out to Nicholas, he knew it would be a big enough deal that he would have to give up what little life he had built for himself, but he couldn't resist. He had to have the gem. So he stole it. When he placed the bracelet upon his wrist, he felt a surge of power rush through him, and he vanished. The invisibility granted by the arcane arm made avoiding the gangs much easier. With time Nicholas studied the gem, and the bracer that the bracelet had become, and learned to control the arm's power. He soon mastered his invisibility, and unlocked the alternate form of Fade, a short, incredibly sharp, single edged blade. He discovered that while wielding the blade, he could turn pieces of himself intangible for a short time. With practice and training, he has learned to turn more of himself intangible and hold it for longer periods of time.

Other: Nicholas has a keen eye, and a sharp mind. He likes to plan things out carefully, so he doesn't get caught up in more than he can handle. He has always been alone, and so has trouble adjusting to groups, often remaining in the background, waiting for his chance to act. He tends to have trouble communicating with others.

Arcane/Eldritch Arm: Fade
Standard Form: A golden bracer with a midnight blue opal embedded. It can grant its wearer invisibility.
Alternate Form: A short, single edged blade that allows its wielder, or objects touched by its wielder, to become intangible. The midnight blue opal is embedded in the hilt just below the blade. At his current level of skill Nicholas can only maintain about 25% of his body mass intangible (or objects/creatures touched).
Overbreak Form: Fade's overbreak form takes the appearance of twin bracers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wearer to create illusions. Both bracers appear identical to the standard form, though one of them is an illusion
Unleashed Form: Twin daggers that grant both invisibility and intangibility, in addition to allowing the wielder to create tangible illusions capable of affecting the world around him. Both daggers appear identical, and are real for all intents and purposes.

'Wip'
Name: "Hiro"
Age: 30
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance:
A rugged, scrappy man around the age of 30. He looks weather worn, his feet are without shoes and his clothes seem well worn to the point where it hangs from his body in rags. HIis skin is a bronze tan color, like that of a man that rarely leaves the sun. A large backpack is strapped to his back, containing most of his personal belongings.

He carry himself with poise and power, but does not flaunt it. It is moe confidence then ego, and his keen eyes belie his wisdom.

Bio:

"My left fist has rent flesh, broken bones and punched out giants. And I happen to be right handed"
-Hiro, One of the Seven Fists.

Hiro is one of the seven fists. Seven disciples to one of the most notorious martial artists to ever live. Han Gao Sung was a man of ambition as well as unrivaled blood lust. He lived to fight, and even at his old age he would invite people to fight him in death matches. He knew however, that his time was limited, and sought to spread his unique and brutal fighting style to men and women of similair mindset as his own. Enter the Seven Fists. Also known as the "Saints of Violence". Under the sadistic old man, several young prospects were trained day and night for 14 years under his tutulage. He was a intelligent man, who saw the strengths and weaknesses of each pupil. While his core principles remained what bound each martial artist to his style nad teachings, he encouraged each to branch out, to use what made them unique and powerfull

Hiro was considered middle of the pack. A dangerous opponent who used a style of gauging swipes and devestating palmstrikes. He was below the top three in power, each of them besting him again and again. But the three others hardly ever won against him. He was one of the Masters favorite students however, becouse the young man was merciless. A serious fight would always end with a crippled or disabled opponent one way or another. Hiro himself was born a simple farmers child. But from early age, he had been a trouble maker. He was brawny and scrappy, picking fight with other kids from the day he learned his first insult. It was all his parents could do not to send the boy away far away. One day, Han Gao Sung decided to take the boy off their hands. He bought the boy for a incredibly amount of money, and convinced them it was for the best.

Under his tutulage, Hiro got to use his agressive side to hurt people without reprimands. He was taught that only the strong was allowed to rise to the very top. That mercy was a flaw in others to exploit. Hiro embraced this, he only ever trusted his master and the other six disciples.

There would come a day however, at Hiros 22'nd birthday, where the next step in their masters plan was realized. He led his disciples to the Monastery of Lost Souls in what was a bloody battle. The sect of the Lost Soul was a small and ancient order that safeguarded several powerfull Arcane and Eldricht Arms. The Violent Saints earned their nickname that day, rampaging, taking of the orders finest in combat and prevailing.

However, Hiro ended up facing down the very leader of the Order. Alliyah the Lost. A powerfull mystic, she beat him in short order, toying with him almost. But he kept coming, kept getting up, rage consuming him. Alliyah, seeing the twisted nature of the boys heart, did something that would change his life forever. The Lost Souls were experts at exorcising evil, in taking and rehabilitating those of the most wicked nature. She drove the evil from his very being. Struck at the very core of his soul, tore the rage out of him,quenched the blood thirst forever and expelled the the darkness. However, such depth did the boy possess, that the effort left her drained. And thats when Han Gao Sung struck. She was weakened, unable to fend him off for to long.

Hiro, now seeing the world without a veil of hatred for the first time in his life, saw the death before him and grew cold with fear. He stared as his master broke such a powerfull woman over his knee, snapping the spine. He fled, seeing his fellow Fists and their Master for the monsters they were. In his flight, he snagged up the Arms that Alliyah had dropped. With the power of a Arcane Arms, and his own training, he escaped.

Now Hiro travels, fighting not for the sake of violence, but to hone his skills for the inevitable confrontation with his peers who took offence with his sudden cowardice.



Other:

Arcane Arm: Hubris Fist

Standard Form: Vengefull Claw Style
The standard form is a pair of ordinary looking wraps around his hand. However, when he fights, his muscles in his fingers and hands become super resilient and strong, allowing him immense grip strength. He utilizes this by using his hands like claws. He can easily tear flesh, or gauge soft parts. But he can even tear into armor with his fingers or rip off metal shielding.

Alternate Form: Obliterating Palm Style
The Obliterating Palm Style is enables by two magical seals that appear on his palms. By redirecting force levied against him, he absorbs power and fire it back trough his palms. Each strike is massive, able to send a grow man flying or dent the thickest armor.

Overbreak Form: Erasing Fist Style
His overbreak forms takes the form of two spiked Cestus gloves. They are seemingly made out of some red, shining energy. In this state, his fists become lethal weapons. His speed is greatly increased and he hits like a sledghammer with every blow. While the directed force is not that of OBliterating, he makes up for it with the insane amount of speed he gains.

Unleashed Form: Hands of God style
Becoming a demi-god of brawling, Hiro becomes incredibly strong, fast and resiliant. He gains all the abilities of his other styles, only in a much more juiced up state. His Vengefull claw can tear anything, his Obliterating Palm Style can level buildings and his erasing fist style can put most things down seemingly with a singe supersonic punch.