Director Felicity Wernicke - a bespectacled lady in her fifties, her great bun of hair a dark brown sprinkled with white, like the feathers of a bird. Stern, resolute, and calculating, but with a flair for the dramatic
Professor Edward Barnaby - heavyset giant of a man with a great ruddy beard and pleasant, somewhat bumbling demeanor, though capable of adapting his attitude to suit any purpose
Mrs. Raleigh Barnaby - not an employee, but a volunteer for the Crucible project. A veterinarian by day, she is a quiet and unassuming but competent and helpful accomplice
Hudson Killinger Braun - the niece of a College employee, driven by a dutiful nature to help out best she can. Mature for her age, she endeavors to maintain an unflappable, professional facade, but she is still a child at heart
Emillia Redsmith - the granddaughter of Professor Barnaby is a trepidatious lass nevertheless bravely trying to overcome her fearful nature by volunteering alongside her friend Hudson as a recruiter for the Crucible
Davian and Aralynn Thule - brother and sister attending the Inquisitional College as students of language and archaeology, respectively. With ginger hair, green eyes, and even similar mannerisms, the twins have a lot in common
Professor Margaret - one of the founding pillars of the college, and still a persuasive and commanding figure today, Margaret's preference for the simple and straightforward belie a mind capable of astonishing complexity and unyielding steadfastness in the face of danger
Sylvester - Margaret's nephew is a thoughtful, even pedantic man, sometimes too clever for his own good but a follower by nature. A student at the College
Mr. Jonathan O'Connor - a dry but efficacious man with distinctive silver hair and a lot of experience under his belt. The dean of admissions for the College, he is a keen judge of others' character and flaws, and a talented compensator for them
Guðrún Eva Mínervudóttir - though quite the looker, particularly with unforgettable waist-length red hair, Guðrún's impulsive tendencies and lack of tact tend to hurt her in social situations, so she's more at home with her textbooks than other students
Amelia Rosenvalt - one of the College's few student teachers, Amelia is both a pretty face and a demanding taskmaster, though she is hardest on herself
Déaglán Ó Foghladha - as well-known and well-liked among the staff as he is, the College's janitor is someone without a lot of awareness about the event nor much persuasive ability, brought along during the recruitment process more or less for show
Michael Lambert - though inclined to self-doubt, Michael is as capable a newly-graduated computer scientist as the College could ask for. Clean-shaven and personable, if a bit awkward at times, he is adept at following instructions but somewhat flustered if plans go astray
Doctor Howell Hallow - sporting a trimmed black beard speckled by gray, sunken eyes, and a cynic's features, Hallow is a peerless historian and striking realist. He prefers staying out of the limelight, but if the situation calls, his laserlike focus and razor-sharp ken, spurred on by pride, can dissect any situation and turn it to his favor
Manfred Thöger - a student of paleontology at the College, serious and goal-oriented almost to a fault but prove to anxiety. His fretful, finicky demeanor imply obsessive compulsive disorder, and while it is true he enjoyed keeping things clean, he enjoyed discover far more Devoured by Gurbanox before the Crucible began
Fukutsuno Kiriagi - formerly a student athlete, Kiriagi treats his chosen subject of dead languages with an enthusiasm few can muster. His confidence can be infectious, and more than once he's braved the mysterious City to help recover artifacts, by which he's always fascinated
Oren Erumel - with his platinum blond hair slicked back, eyes always seemingly closed, purple-rimmed glasses, indelible smile, and extravagantly ostentatious manner of clothing, Oren is the spitting image of a bizarre trickster. Quick-witted and a lover of puns, he boasts both a wide vocabulary and an odd sort of intuitive charisma. A distant 'friend' of someone at the college, he plans to serve as the tournament's announcer
Pieter "Noseless" LeGroning - a six and a half foot giant of a man rendered without a schnoz thanks to his obsession with understanding the City's strange artifacts. Sporting curly black hair, a trimmed goatee, and bushy eyebrows, while given to wearing eccentric outfits, he rocks a look all his own. Not especially talkative, he prefers to do
Jaroslava "Monkeyboy" Zaporozhneva - the very definition of a tomboy both in looks and attitude, Jaro commands an emotive, assertive, and often cheeky persona that others can find hard to make sense of. She works as a carrier, moving things and information throughout the College as necessary
Nancy Czevizch - despite being by all accounts an adult, Nancy's sheer joyful energy, combined with a powerful imagination and colorful use of language, mark her as one still embracing her inner child. Brilliant green eyes and cheery red pigtails punctuate this conclusion. While on good terms with practically everyone at the College, her immaturity prevents her from escaping her role as an assistant.
Rene Rodriguez - stuff, smart, sincere, and brutally honest, Rene is someone to whom humor is mostly a foreign concept, but it hasn't prevented him from excelling in his role as an art historian. Shockingly tall and bearded, he cuts an imposing yet dashing figure

Name: Pithy
Alias: The Lady in White
Race: Elf
Sex: Female
Class: Spellsword
Appearance: Pithy stands at 5’10’’ and still retains the youthful appearance of someone in their early twenties. While still young compared to others of her kind, her actual age triples that. She is possessed of the pointed ears intrinsic to her kind, and, like many elves, her body and features are gracefully sculpted in a manner that lends her svelte, pale form a sharp, almost ethereal quality. However, many would be admirers have been turned away by the regal bearing with which she conducts herself, and the severe stare of her left, icy blue eye. Her right eye and cheek are mostly obscured under a swath of cascading, black hair, but she does not seem inconvenienced by this. So far, few have seen her right eye, but many have noticed crystalline shapes peeking from under the cover of her hair, almost as if concealing a mask of jagged ice.

During her years traveling through human lands and becoming acquainted with several passing adventurers, she has picked up some of their taste in dressing. Her most recent choice in attire consists of complimenting, off-white tunic and cotton leggings. The loose tunic is fastened around her waist with a black belt, allowing the hemline to reach her hips like a particularly short skirt. Covering slender fingers, she wears black, leather gloves reaching to the middle of her forearms over her tunic’s sleeves. She also wears long, black leather boots over her leggings, reaching just below her knee. Projecting metal plates designed to protect the wearer’s knees are affixed to the end of her boots, the only form of armor in her outfit.

Above it all, she tends to wear a set of cowled, vivid blue robes with golden thread marking the finishes at the seams, fastened by a clasp bearing an inlaid insignia shaped as an open rose. The hemline of the robe splits at the height of her hip at the front and descends until it reaches her back, at the height of her ankles, in the manner of a long, triangular coattail. She often wears the item as one would a cloak, letting the long, wide sleeves of the ensemble fall limply to her sides.

Equipment: Pithy is most often a light traveler, and beyond her apparel, the only noteworthy items she keeps on herself are a pair of daggers and a rapier.

- Guardian Robe: The robes she wears have been enchanted to resist the elements and the wear and tear of long journeys. However, the enchantment isn’t designed as armor, so it provides little defense against the force of incoming blows, and strong attacks are likely to cut through the fabric. Its value is largely sentimental.

- Daggers: Short weapons with pointed tips better suited for thrusts. The daggers themselves are of decent quality, but ultimately quite ordinary, and Pithy is just as likely to use them to clean her nails or to prepare a meal in a pinch as to use them in an altercation.

- Rapier: She bought this item off a traveling merchant on the road who knew nothing of the weapon beyond the fact that it looked expensive. The slender and elegant weapon is made of a silver-hued material, something that, should it be lacking in protective enchantments, would never manage to endure the abuse Pithy has put the weapon through. The hilt was crafted in the shape of a flower closing its petals, leaving an opening on one side to hold the handle, and meeting at the pommel to form a vicious spike. While the outstanding beauty and endurance of the weapon are interesting in their own rights, it was not what made the rapier so peculiar. The crafter, upon creating the weapon, had inlaid a series of runes along the inside of the flower shaped hilt, transforming the rapier into a focal point, allowing for a more precise and efficient use of magic channeled through it. For all intents and purposes, someone had crafted a magic wand and given it the shape of a duelist’s sword. As far as she is concerned, it was worth far more than what she spent on it.

Abilities: Pithy is precise and quick on her feet, an experienced and nimble swordfighter basing much of her style on swift, pinpoint strikes meant to shatter or bypass opponents defenses. Occasionally, she makes use of side-arms, such as the daggers she carries with her.

While Pithy’s education in arcane matters was expansive and she retains knowledge of several disciplines, due to binding an elemental spirit of ice, her magic has become aspected. While this means that cryomancy comes naturally to her, other forms of magic suffer. The other elements will not obey her most of the time, illusion spells sap the heat from their surroundings, and the use of healing magic on deep wounds is likely to inflict frostbite on the recipient before significant progress is made. Even using it on herself is risky. Only a few simple cantrips remain relatively useful, such as a ward that alerts her to people entering a designated space while she sleeps.

Magic intended to cause harm, however, comes naturally. Her ice magic excels in combat and does manage to supplement her fighting style, allowing her to cover surfaces with ice, summon barriers, sharp icicles, blasts of frigid wind, or blades and shields, should she need the extra armament. The colder the environment, the easier it is for her to summon her magic, and formations of ice may become weapons for her to levitate or explode into sharp shards. Additionally, her magic allows her to stand steady even in surfaces covered by slick ice. This means that the longer a battle against her lasts, the deadlier she becomes. Conversely, this also means that she is at a disadvantage in specific environments or against foes adept at fiery magics who can counter the cold.

One of the simplest, yet most effective uses of her magic is to focus some of her frigid power into her rapier, an act facilitated by the runes within the guard. The weapon will be enveloped by a whitish glow in this state, and anything it touches will begin to freeze while the charged blade remains in contact. Foes will find their bodies slowing and numbing with the scathingly cold touch of her blade, and any unfortunate victim of a thrusting lunge may find their wounds freezing from within until the weapon is dislodged.

Fighting Style: Pithy is adept at fighting at both medium range and close range. When confronting far-off opponents, she often uses her rapier in its capacity as a magical focus, summoning icicles and blades of ice to harry them, using her sword like a conductor’s baton.

If her foe needs to be at close range to properly fight her – particularly if such a foe can clearly overpower her in close quarters – she will put effort into keeping her distance, be that by blasting the enemy away with wind, pressuring them with flying shards of ice, or backpedaling to safer positions. If an enemy manages to break through, she might then decide to engage them as close-quarters. Conversely, if the enemy gains the advantage in a long-range battle, she may use this magic as cover to flee and search for a better battlefield, or to close the distance.

As a close-range fighter, Pithy is a masterful fencer, adept at breaking through opponents’ guards and punishing their mistakes. Occasionally she will also use a dagger in her off-hand if she thinks a second weapon will give her opportunities to harm her opponent. She has even been known to remove her robe and wrap it over her off-hand to obscure her main weapon, restrain the opponents’ arm, or, if needed, throwing it at them as a distraction. In the latter case, she has used her blasts of wind to force the cape to billow onto an enemy’s face.

Regarding magic in close quarters, Pithy can channel a freezing aura into her rapier, but channeling complex spells through a catalyst while it is being used in a swordfight is much too unwieldy. In such cases, she will usually channel magic through her left hand, though the resulting spells are not nearly so precise in the heat of battle. Because of this, she favors blasts of winds, the occasional icicle suddenly sprouting from the ground, and spells which may cause rapid freezing of an area. As an example, a battle against a similar duelist was settled by Pithy goading her opponent into lounging at her, and then dropping a mote of magic onto the stone floor at the right moment. The floor was suddenly covered in a sheet of ice, and her enemy slipped, leaving them defenseless.

Personality: Serious. Distant. Cold. Harsh. All decent adjectives when it comes to describing Pithy’s mannerisms, and yet a steadfast dignity seems to hold her together at the base. It might have been that which led some of the people she has traveled with to make wagers as to whether they could crack a warm smile out of those lips instead of the usual displeased grimace or sneer.

While often regarded as practical, even opportunistic by some’s standards, Pithy values organization and efficiency, and can appear methodical to the point of perfectionism. Indeed, the intense, analytical manner with which she tends to observe her surroundings tends to make her seem even more unapproachable. It might be for the best, for those that are more perceptive have claimed to occasionally notice a frightening bitterness in her exposed eye.

One thing that tends to infuriate her occasional companions is that, while she normally does not mince words, whenever she stumbles upon a piece of information another happens not to have, she has the irritating inclination observed in many wizards and magically touched beings to treat it as a secret worth keeping regardless of how insignificant it might be.

Bio: Both Pithy’s bearing and choice in weaponry give poignant hints towards her origins, and, despite certain differences between elven and human social structures, one would not be wrong in assuming she had a noble’s upbringing.

Her parents were Guardians, powerful knights and spellcasters, bound to spirits of the forest and dedicated to the defense of their woodland enclave. Much reverence was given to this order, and they were treated as one would treat the most respected aristocracy. However, neither Pithy’s intense gaze nor severe manner suggests the fact that she was born the talentless, sickly foil to her twin sister. Now, elves bearing more than one child – twins, no less – is an odd occurrence, and much was expected of them. Both were trained in the art of fencing by their parents and were tutored in matters of the arcane from an early age along with a few other prospective mages, but where her sister would excel, exhibiting a talent matching, even exceeding that of their parents and earning the praise and admiration of her teachers and peers, Pithy would struggle to so much as match the prowess of the lowliest magical pupil.

Parents should love their children regardless of their shortcomings, and despite Pithy’s failures, hers always tried to reassure her. She needed not worry, this was simply not her calling; they loved her all the same. They did not understand how their every word of compassion wounded her, each an admission that she was inferior to her sibling. Her sister was the strong one, the compassionate one, the warm one, the talented one, and even though they looked virtually identical, Pithy began to feel more and more as if even her appearance was a vicarious imitation of her sister’s. How could she compare if she never stood a chance? How were they different? Why was she the one born weak?

And so frustration and bitterness festered.

She devoted herself to studying and training, from sunrise to dark’s fall, always pushing for perfection. She sparred often, striking matches with her sister, her parents when available, and other knights, slowly refining her techniques until she grew into a swift and precise duelist. She poured over magic tomes, seeking to achieve with focus and execution what she could not with power, but despite her best efforts, it was never enough to best her better half. Those around her made note of her progress, of her persistence, and many were proud of her, her family included. But it was never enough. She despaired, and could see her sister’s encouraging smiles as little else than mocking gestures.

One day, Pithy left. If she was a full-fledged Guardian, bound in pact to the spirits of the forest, she could defeat her sister. But that would not be allowed. She was too young, too impatient, too unlike her, said her parents and mentors. They knew nothing. She travelled to the frozen north, blinded by thoughts of reprisal. She had read of spirits of the tundra. Hungry wraiths, seeking warmth and life in a land that had none, haunting unwary travelers. If she could not match her sister on her own, she would use the spirit’s power. Using sorceries, she entrapped a spirit of the land, forcing it into a pact that bound it to her, lending Pithy its powers. This greatly empowered the potency of her offensive magic and strengthened her weak body.

Upon her return, riding a tide of murmurs and worried, shifting glances, she strode to her sister’s presence and demanded a duel. The encounter was a close one, and it left much of the arena frozen in ice, but in the end, Pithy could not surpass her sister. The duel ended with Pithy kneeling before her better half, clutching her wounds before the judgmental eyes of a whole settlement. They knew what she had done, the origin of the power she wielded. Regardless of appearance, it had been taken forcefully, a chain’s binding, not a pact’s honor. It did not belong to their home, to the Guardians, and neither did she. Not anymore. So her sister told her, before turning her back to her.

Pithy’s backstab was intercepted by her father’s blade, and she was restrained by her mother’s magic. Only her family’s mercy, unwanted as it was, spared her. She was kept in restraints until she recovered, and was promptly exiled from her woodland home.

Since then, her life has been spent on the roads. She never stopped searching for ways to magnify and improve her control over her spellcraft, a task she pursues with an almost resigned abandon. One can most often find her trailing rumors of magical artifacts found in any corner of the world.

Recently however, her focus has shifted away from empowering magics and turned towards stabilizing it. Some say she is delving into magics involving the soul. Those she has interviewed in recent years all claim there was a quiet desperation in the woman’s inquiries, something quite unlike her previous research.

One such inquiry brought her to the town of Bren, where an annual tournament dedicated to the eight Elemental Lords that ruled nature in her world was being held, and not just any tournament. The Lords were rumored to preside over the contest themselves (she forced herself to think this way, as the certainty in Bren’s citizens’ recollection of previous tournaments baffled her. Why would the Elemental Lords hold that human city in such high regard?). The winner was said to be granted a wish by their chosen patron god, should they be chosen as their representatives in the preliminaries and later rise above the rest of the chosen.

Pithy allowed herself a sliver of hope and participated in the tournament under the banner of the Ice Lord, but although she bested the one who would go on to become Wind’s representative, she was not chosen herself. Scorned by her chosen god and fresh out of leads, Pithy remained in the town for a few days to tend to her wounds and think.

Once she was healed, Pithy resolved to leave town and seek a previously abandoned lead. However, before she could step through the city gates, a scholar appeared, offering her a second chance on her heart’s desire.

Wish: A pact born from violence and submission comes at a price. While Pithy’s body was healed from its weakness upon binding a spirit of the land to her soul, crystal did not sprout from her flesh until much later. Research into the matter, along with the onset of sudden, troubling dreams have given her reason to believe that the wraith she brought into herself has begun to eat away at its restraints. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the pact – the spirit now more akin to a part of herself – she cannot reinforce the bindings she used to bend it to her will in the first place without causing irreparable damage to her own soul in the process.

If left unchecked for too long, possession of this sort will invariably result in the soul of the victim being snuffed out like a candle, leaving something monstrous in its place. While she has come across many different methods for exorcising vengeful spirits, to break the bond that ties them together would be no different from forfeiting all the power she sought in her youth. To her, this is a fate worse than death, so she is desperately searching for a way to subdue the spirit without severing her connection to it.

Echo: A brook in a forest, loosely flanked by trees and vegetation. A few small paths snake out from the landmark, likely left behind by the passage of animals. The stream is calm and shallow, and one can easily make it across without touching the water by stepping on the stones resting on its bed.

In a simpler when, Pithy used to watch her sister play in the shore from the arms of her mother. A childhood memory better left forgotten.

Frenzy: A beautiful figurine of a maiden sculpted in ice, except for those fingers which end in too sharp the points to be called anything other than claws, and the whitish glow that seems to emanate from behind what seems to be an impression of a jagged masquerade mask, and the way the figure’s lips part in such a way that it seems to be perpetually locked into a surprised gasp… or the beginnings of a scream.

In this state, ice spreads from Pithy’s right eye to the rest of her body, indeed becomes ice. Even the hair on her head acquires a crystalline hue and seems to jingle as the strands chime against each other.

Now more akin to a golem, and unlimbered by the limitations of a flesh and blood body, she moves with supernatural alacrity and monstrous strength. However, where once that body moved with the polished grace of a dancer and the focus of a veteran fencer, this beautiful sculpture fights with the ferocity of a starved animal, rapier abandoned in favor of claws and sharp spikes of ice. In combat, she will attempt to defend against attacks that threaten the chest and the head (heart and brain). Blows to the limbs do not inconvenience her, and will quickly regrown even if a foe manages to crush the hard crystal. In fact, the body is animated solely by magic at this point, accounting for its newfound strength and agility. This incredibly precise control is not limited to the body either, as she is now able to summon chilling wind and control multiple icicles and flying blades as though it was second nature.

More than second nature, perhaps.

Inventory:
- Phylactery
- .44 Ruger: Six-chambered, double-action.
- Polaroid
- Trickshot Jo's Phylactery
- Derringer Necklace
- Watch
- Religious Cutlass

Mountain Dew's Inventory (Does not account for equipment listed on his CS):
- Board
- Ammo
- 6xNokia round
- Snacks and drinks
- Tools
- First Aid Kit
- Range Rover
- The Shroomblade
- Unleash

Name: Juniper

Alias: The God Hand

Race: Human

Sex: Female

Class: Shrine maiden turned brawler.

Equipment: The basic of basics of her profession's tools, a few anti demon talismans, a few more of anti curse, and several empty talismans, an inkbrush, an ink stone, and some inksticks.

Abilities: Due to being the current possessor of one of the God Hand, her usual strength, agility and resilience from surviving in the mad world she lived in was bolstered. She follows in the path of her predecessor, sealing the God Hand not with a Deistic Brace, but with seals and barriers of her profession, an advantage she had over her mostly meatheaded predecessor. This in turn allows her to release its powers with a more explosive result, giving her greater strength, agility as well as nigh invulnerability for a short time. There is also minor effect of her being able to call in projections of items with her God Hand, though the projections can only make simple objects. Anything containing complex insides would be impossible for her to project. From her profession as a miko, or a shrine maiden however, she can do mostly ritualistic magics, from summoning a local kami or deity for divination and the likes, to calling for rain, to the more practical talismans.

Fighting Style: Due to the Mad Max plus more magic and poison chihuahuas nature of her world, she picks up new moves fast, and thus may use opponent's moves against them. Obviously this only applies to physical moves, so she can't breathe fire all of a sudden, or do magic beyond her ability. She fights mostly with her body, using her fists, projected items, real items or even other hapless attackers to bash against her opponents. Taunting opponents into dropping their guard, or fighting dirty was not beyond her. In the event that she was well and truly in danger of losing, she would unleash the power of the God Hand, which would give her precious seconds of empowerment before fading away.

Personality: While she could be said to be confident and cocky, she was that in a way that does not make her seem like an uneducated city thug, but instead of a rich lady with from a rich noble's house. By no means was she ever unseemly rude, for she minded her manners well, and though she did not go out of her way to help every bleeding soul in the area, she wasn't indifferent to the suffering of others. She was the very image of a mild mannered shrine maiden, aloofly judging everyone the same, and treating everyone with as equally as she could.

In battles however, she was prone to taunting the opponent, and letting them do the first move, before beating them down once she's judged their ability.

Bio: Born in the crazy world that was the world of God Hand, she had learned both her profession and how to defend herself almost from the same age as she learned to talk. Juniper and her family had managed to keep one of the last places where it was relatively peaceful and away from the eyes of the more prominent demons around. Finally inheriting the shrine, she remained there for most of her life, acting as its sole guardian and shrine maiden, keeping the peace around it and doing rituals during those very rare times someone managed to find AND reach her without being mauled by bandits. Other times, they were the bandits, though she did not refuse her services to them.

One day, a man came to her shrine, wishing for someone to keep the God Hands. Thinking those were simply religious artifacts, she agreed to keep them, with thoughts of enshrining them to keep them safe. Instead, she lost her own arms and was grafted with the God Hands, arms from a long dead man who toppled a demon long ago, still filled with power. The man revealed himself to be one of the clan that kept the God Hands safe, and thus with that, she now kept her shrine with the company of a rather annoyingly polite man, whose air of politeness belies the snarks he made often.

Weeks past, and she had grown complacent in her ability and her powers with both of the God Hands in her possession. One night, she was awakened by a screeching demon, with her left arm, or more accurately, the left God Hand, missing and her shrine burning down. Without further ado, she set out to reclaim her left arm, and find out what happened to the man that gave them to her.

Wish: She wants nothing more than to reclaim her left arm, and find out what happened to Bernheim, the man who grafted the God Hands onto her.

Echo: Her shrine, showing its age, but beautiful in its own way. Plants grew around it, giving what little color there was in that bleak place it was located. A place full of her memories.

Appearance:

She is missing her left arm, and her clothes are a bit burned around the edges, but otherwise she remains similar to the picture.

Frenzy: Three black arms that sprouts out her left side, turning her veins on the left black with their influence. Each arm is amorphous yet solid, allowing it to stretch and change shapes suddenly. Speed far beyond her normal limits is attained in this form.

Inventory: A phylactery.
Rosary: Rewards a last-second evasion by launching a magical wave-motion counterattack against the wearer's assailant

Name: Bonesword

Alias: The Fungal Knight

Race: Fungal Skeleton

Sex: Male.

Class: Chloromantic Swordsman

Equipment:

• The Shroomblade - A katana with a scabbard that matches the crown on Bonesword's head, and the very sword that Bonesword was born with. It's his most favored weapon. From his past, this blade had acquired the taste of demon blood, and while it isn't a holy weapon, it is more effective against the flesh of a demon.
• Religious Cutlass - A pale-cyan colored cutlass, found on a battle where the legendary swordsman faced against a deadly succubus. The cutlass is much like the Shroomblade, however it should be noted that it has the taste of holy blood instead.
• Unleash - The final blade that the swordsman carries around, and the one that he's the most afraid of using. This is a jet-black longsword with a series of golden details embedded into the blade, and the only detail that Bonesword was given when he received it was that if he gave into his demonic instincts, he would be able to wreak havoc with this sword.
• Mechanical Armor - A set of lightweight yet resilient armor, minus the helmet, that has Machina inspirations. It'll take a hit, that's for damn sure.

Abilities:

• Master Swordsman - Bonesword has perfected the way of the blade, and it really shows in his fights.
• Chloromancy - A fancy way of saying he can manipulate plants. There aren't any plants that he finds favorable to use, but he does often use trees as a way of defense and cacti as a way to attack.
• The Bloody Harvest - All plants that are nearby gain sentience, and will attempt to complete the task that they are given without a second thought. If a minion dies or completes a task, it loses the sentience. If no plants are around, several plants will grow within a very short period of time. It should also be noted that pumpkins are usually reserved for musical purposes, be it battle themes or distractions.
• Undeath - As long as Bonesword's skull stays intact, he retains his soul, and can still fight. If he has lost his body, he is able to take another skeleton's body as his own and use it just as good as the last one. While a skull, Bonesword is still able to use his Chloromancy, including Bloody Harvest, and the sentient plant is given the task of finding another body. It is limited to those two powers, however.
• Enter : The Sharpswordsman - Bonesword can throw swordlike objects. or anything vaguely swordlike (sticks work). The thrown "swords" are incredibly accurate, and can do quite a hefty bit of damage if they land.
• Honor Strike - Blaze any hostile enemies of demonic origin with a light of pure love and vengeance. Does not do damage to anyone holy, and does little damage to anyone unaffiliated. This ability can only be used in times where Bonesword is under extreme pressure and/or emotionally unstable.

Fighting Style: Defensively Merciful. Bonesword will stay on a defensive side for the majority of a combat session, and will not go on the offensive unless he knows that he can provide a damn strong offense. Bonesword will refrain from actually killing anybody unless he's in a frenzied state of mind.

In a battle, Bonesword will not give the first attack no matter what, and is more than happy to watch the enemy as he sits there and sips on a bottle of whiskey. He does not find any enjoyment in a cheap opponent, and will often shift between being a one-handed master of swords to being a dual-wielding flurry of enamel. Even if he is dual wielding, he will never dual wield a sword with Unleash, as Bonesword believes that the black longsword should be used with two-hands.

Personality: Bonesword is an alcoholic skeleton man who will never let up until the task is done. He longs to be reunited with his lover that was taken from him decades ago, and fights for the protection of humans until he is struck down and slain. It's important to note that, while Bonesword is alcoholic, he can never actually get drunk due to the lack of any actual organs in his system.

Bio:
Wish: Nobody knows why Bonesword actually wants to fight in this tournament, but many have believed that it is to regain the love of his life through this.

Echo: In a grassland area, far from the reaches of a civilization that is vastly more advanced, a grave is existing. This is the grave of Bonesword's lover.

Appearance:
Frenzy: Succumbing to his temptations, Bonesword becomes something he has called "The Lord of Bones", and is not to be trifled with. Full power over all plants is granted, and typically Bonesword likes to create obstructions and trap his opponent before he strikes himself, armed with Unleash. During this phase, the demon's eye sockets glow bright with flashing purple and green lights, and has a black shadow covering the side of his mushroom crown.

Inventory:
- Phylactery.
- 46. Watch : A clock of many faces
--- Creates an internal database of organisms by scanning ones in proximity. Selects an organism when the wearer turns the watch face. Transforms the wearer into the selected organism's species when the wearer presses down the watch face. Reverts a transformed wearer when he or she represses the watch face

Abilities:

Unearthly: Is not subject to the dangers of poison, infections, diseases, bleeding or the loss of internal organs. Unlike a normal human whom may have things that actually need to be preserved, Smiley whole body is a work of effort and needs to maintained by continuous will . His body is what it appears to be. It has no inner functions. Not even a brain. Damage is a matter of stamina and will. Constant damage will de- materialize it.

Unending: When his form is severed, crushed or pulled apart Smiley may reform himself or grow new body parts on the fly within seconds. In many cases he even willingly gives up body parts in order to function in different ways. He, however. May not expand beyond what he is without naturally growing in his default power. He can't grow arms he dosen't have, although he may "drop" arms to fit through a door if he had them. Then grow them back.

MAW: Smiley's nature allows him to extend his hunger beyond what should be physically possible, his mouth is his only true weapon as his body is squishy. Acting more as a orchestrated jelly fish than flesh, allowing to be easily shattered. His maw however is made up of large, imposing teeth drawn like cubic pillars. They are capable of mauling flesh, gripping harshly and denting armor. He only has maulers however. So no piercing or ripping, just chewing.

HUNGER: As a manifestation of greed he is capable of swallowing up anything of any kind of worth. Both fiscally and emotionally. Leading him to eat objects, elements, chemicals and people alike. The more he consumes of value the more stronger he grows, gaining new limbs. Treasure is much slower to this effect than other living things, especially powerful ones. When he has consumed a person he gain one aspect of theirs such as arm(may not have more than 2), horns, eyes or tattoos along with a increase in size.

He gains 1 lower ability of his consumed. Eaten allies come back none the less. If he eats a person with equipment, they may find parts of it-or all of it. Gone. Now stored in his gut.

He can lose power by spewing up his treasures too much. Should he somehow exhaust himself of almost all of his goods. He will lose his legs and become a cat-sized worm. Severely weakened.

Elastic: Smiley can stretch out or bend his body in obscene shapes. Although he may not grow mass he may shift it to other body parts. His only part that doesn't act like this is his maw which can open to 10 times his own size, allowing him to eat even massive creatures and dragons like a snake. Assuming they don't fight back.

Binding Contract: Like most demons Smiley can make deals in exchange for things. His deals are binding, failing to meet them allows him to take something he wants from the user while they will be unable to move or act. Should he fail to provide his end of the contract then Smiley must forfeit any gain he may get from the deal.





Wish: EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT. EAT THE MACHINE!

Echo: A large castle in the distance slumbers. It's windows are endowed with many shutters and the silence from it seems unnatural considering its sizes. A dress of flowers spirals up and down its walls into a vast field of trees, littered with a garden of eden like potential. In the field sits a single small pool with a single stature of a dog looking upwards at an missing person. It's eyes smiling.



GROWTH 1: Height now: 7.5 feet tall.

Modifications: Two Arms.

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Frenzy: He briefly turns into a demon of rage and blood. His body is malformed from its original purpose into a 10 foot tall being that has various tentacles scurrying about its frame. In these tentacles every type of weapon he has will be wielded although only in a blind fury. He lumbers about on a set of stubby legs, in this case he will pick up anything in front of him and attempt to throw it into a gigantic mouth. However, it filled with endless teeth, including canines. Anything eaten in this state will not go into his stomach. Simply being reduced into bloody red paste.

Inventory:

His phylactery.

Name: Saria Silverlocke
Alias: “The Blood Devil”
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Class: Sword fighter

Appearance


Equipment

The Red Blade: An heirloom passed down through countless generations of Saria’s family, and the weapon central to Saria’s fighting capability. Its true origin is unknown. However, tales told to her throughout childhood claim that it was forged by the Jogun, a race of perfect warriors, with the ore of Baskarite, a metal originating from the deepest depths of the earth. The Red Blade was their legacy.

However it came to be, and whoever made it, the Red Blade seems to be nearly indestructible, withstanding the most scorching temperatures from a smith’s forge as well as seemingly repelling the strikes of a blacksmith’s hammer without the slightest scratch. Attempts to dull it have been fruitless. Strangely enough, attempts to sharpen it also have no effect. Wielded properly, the Red Blade can cut through most types of armor, excluding metal.

Silverlocke Armor: Saria wears head-to-toe armor composed of ordinary steel plate, blackened and custom fitted to the shapes and contours of her own body. More steel plates hang from her armor, covering the hip and shoulder joints. The armor is mostly made for intimidation and ceremonial purposes rather than practical purposes, but still functions as effective protection.

Abilities

Reactionary Quickening: Saria’s sword fighting capability stems from countless hours of brutal, grueling training designed to create a warrior worthy of using the Red Blade. This included “exercises” such as dodging and deflecting lethal projectiles from all different directions, blindfolded. She learned to not just use her sight in battle, but sounds and instincts. Combined, Saria possessed the reaction speed and precision of a warrior.

Enhanced Strength: Saria not only needed to keep up with the rest of her siblings in terms of speed, but also in strength. Even though she was a girl, she was required to fight her brothers as well as her sister in order to become worthy of the blade. She seldom won against her brothers in hand-to-hand combat, since they possessed much more brute strength than she did, but to the average person, she is a bear in a woman’s skin, capable of extraordinary feats with the use of her strength alone, such as throwing people twice her weight over her shoulder, or caving in bones with her bare handed strikes.

Blood Blade: Saria is connected to the Red Blade in more ways than one. Sure, it is an heirloom bestowed upon her with the highest honor of the Silverlocke family, but per tradition, Saria was cut with the blade, imbuing her blood with the sword for the first time. From then on, she had become the only one in the world who could tap into the blade’s true power: Blood. Through the imbuement of her own blood, a crimson coat covers her sword, effectively sharpening it even further by using her own life force as a blade. Of course, this has a negative effect. The use of her own blood as a blade slowly drains her strength, and could kill her if left unchecked.

Pain Resistance: Saria is no stranger to pain, and can overcome and ignore wounds most people consider “grievous” or “crippling”. However, this does not make her immortal. She is still human, after all.

Fighting Style: Perfection? Form? Technique? Elegance? Merely an afterthought. Through raw, unhinged power, Saria aims to destroy completely and indiscriminately, and this is shown through her fighting style. Saria is rarely, if ever, on the defense. During combat, she will do anything possible to get the edge in a fight, including letting opponents injure her in order to gain an advantage.

Saria is a close range powerhouse. Her own unfettered rage powers her strikes, aiming to put all of her effort into physically breaking her opponent and their defenses. Fighters who use ranged attacks or sorcery infuriate Saria, since she sees combat as a purely melee-focused altercation. To her, ranged attackers and mages are cowards who cannot stomach the will to fight honorably. This style of combat does have its disadvantages. For example, Saria is weak to ranged attacks, since she cannot fight back against a ranged attacker, the only thing she can do is try and get closer to them. Also, Saria is tough, but not immortal. Attacks that slip through her defenses will hurt her, and usually, they hurt her severely.

Personality: Saria is by all means a hot-headed individual, and rightly so. From the day she could walk, she knew nothing but war. Risen by any other family, she may have had the passion for things such as the arts, or scholarly pursuits, but the Silverlocke family has effectively ironed out troublesome things such as these. The only thing left in her mind was an unfaltering fire, a will to fight, conquer, and destroy.

Bio: Raised in the Silverlocke family, Saria was one of five siblings, three of them being boys and another a girl. From the day she could walk, she was subjected to cruel punishment from her parents and her siblings alike. The reason for this abuse was to inject into her a sense of hostility and pain from the earliest age possible, and begin to kindle the flames of a warrior. However her sister, Alina, was more merciful to her than the others.

At the age of five, her training began. She was taught to wield a sword, and study the one “form” of fighting shared in the Silverlocke family: Darh Krile. (Jogun translation: Death Blow). The Silverlocke style of combat focused on overwhelming opponents with pure offensive capability. She was taught to never hold back in a fight, that self-preservation was a vice, preventing her from reaching her true path as a warrior. Years passed, and her sense of self deteriorated, her only savior was Alina, who seemed to be the one compassionate voice in her life.

At twelve, Saria began to “make progress”, or as her parents had put it. She began to best her brothers in combat, albeit not often. Alina wasn’t the warrior her parents wanted her to be, as she grew to be more of a pacifist. In a tragic “incident”, Alina had a large stone tied to her feet, and was told to swim across the lake nearest to their home. She never made it. Saria became filled with rage at her death, even moreso when her family seemed not to care much about it. “A good riddance,” as her parents called it. Saria began to plot her revenge, and she would become the Silverlocke heir in order to achieve it.

By nineteen, Saria had struggled through years of abuse and training, her only goal was the destruction of her entire family. Her personality took a dark turn, and she mercilessly beat her brothers, as they did to her before. When she won the right to the Silverlocke armor, and therefore the Red Blade, the first thing she did was slaughter her parents and brothers, not only for Alina, but for herself.

Afterwards, with her only companion being the Red Blade, she wandered the world, seeking worthy opponents to fight. Part of this was to reinforce her sense of self, her own identity, and part of it was to find an opponent she deemed worthy of killing her, to rid her of this cursed existence. Until this happens she searches still, a woman wanting to die.

Wish: Saria’s wish is to die to an opponent worth dieing to. She doesn’t know exactly who this would be, but it should ultimately be someone who has been through the same pain as her, who could best her in fair combat.

Echo: The Silverlocke lake, the place where her sister drowned under the cruel hands of her family.

Frenzy:

It is said that the Red Blade contains demonic origin. From the depths of the earth it was forged, and from the depths of the earth it came to be. Therefore, a bit of demonic influence was inevitable. When Saria’s pain is more than she could handle, her sword fuses to her hands, and forcibly draws blood from her body in order to create a blood blade (Blood Blade ability automatically activated). In this state, Saria is on her last legs, and will fight purely to survive, like a feral animal.

An aura of fire surrounds her, presumably an effect of the Red Blade binding to her soul. Her strength and speed is immensely increased, such that she could shatter boulders with the strength of a sword strike.

This state is what earned her the nickname, Blood Devil. When she slaughtered her family, the only thing onlookers saw was her, clad in black, bloody armor, emerging from her family’s home, now in flames.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Ryan Harper
Alias: The Sentinel
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Class: Mech Pilot
Equipment:

“Sentinel” - Class C Bipedal Security Mech, Refurbished
>Two heavy gattling guns at each side - most effective at mid to close range. At this range they can easily tear through thinner metal, wood and other weaker materials and of course organic matter. They will trash a car very quickly for example. The bullets lose velocity and power at longer ranges, but can still inflict considerable damage to an unprotected body. An effective cover would be a thicker wall, such as concrete, or armour designed to withstand heavy fire, such as a tank, however those would still take a dent at closer ranges.
>Heavy steel plating mounted on top of kinetic absorbers - able to withstand considerable amounts of physical damage and keep the mech standing on its feet after stronger blows
>EMP Shield – weak protection against non-physical disruption of electronics (electric shocks and magnetic fields specifically)
>Standard Security Radar – detects moving objects within a 50 meter radius, has a lock-on function
>ShockSkin™ - a pair of electrodes at either side of the mech’s main body that when activated emit a strong electric pulse that arcs over the entire surface, shocking anyone touching it and dealing increasing amounts of damage if they aren’t knocked back or don’t pull away at a safe distance

Ryan’s Utility Belt:
>Mechanic’s Toolkit – an assortment of wrenches, screwdrivers, tape and similar paraphernalia. Usually most of it is left in the mech, as she doesn’t feel safe with the entre kit weighing her down outside of it, only opting for a few choice tools to carry with her in case she spots something she can use on the mech. Also includes a crowbar.
>Handgun – a simple handgun with a capacity of 8 shots per cartridge. Standard peashooter, only really effective with headshots.
>An ancient looking CD player with a disc in it and a pair of headphones
>A box of colourful chalks

Abilities:
Outstanding mech pilot – the Sentinel is like an extension of her body, she has learned to use it at peak performance levels for its capabilities
Skilled Mechanic – able to fully repair her mech if given enough time; can figure out how most machinery and electronics operate with relative ease and adapt some of it to be used in different ways (such as an upgrade to the Sentinel)
Hidey Hole – although she is not particularly gifted in the physical aspect Ryan can practically stick herself in any cramped dark spot and remain there motionless and completely silent for indefinite amounts of time, making her extremely hard to find if she manages to hide before she is spotted

Fighting Style:

Outside the mech:
Ryan has zero fighting skills and is incredibly frail. Outside of her mech she will be skittish, perhaps slightly disoriented and will try to run towards the Sentinel as fast as possible while using any possible tactics to keep her attacker at bay. Despite her deadly accuracy within the mech itself she is not actually a particularly good shot with her normal handheld firearm. She panics without the shell of the Sentinel around her and is a little awkward and erratic in her movements.

Within the mech:
Once inside of her Sentinel Ryan seems to become a completely different person. Her movements are much more focused and anyone stupid or slow enough to remain in the way of the gattling guns is at risk of being reduced to a mushy pulp. The mech itself is decently mobile although not incredibly fast. Its waist swivels at a full 360 degrees and its bird-like legs are capable of the occasional long leap, however that risks its balance in the air and in the process of landing.

Personality:
Ryan is a little bit strange. Very awkward and quiet outside the mech, uncertain how to handle social situations and very uncomfortable without protection. She combats this near-crippling anxiety by listening to music – a violin piece she discovered long ago which helps her focus and remain calm – and drawing with chalk all over the floor and walls whenever she has nothing else to occupy her hands with. If she doesn’t keep herself occupied she begins to panic, sometimes to the point of physical discomfort (shaking, cold sweat, difficulty breathing, heart palpitations).
Once she is in her Sentinel she feels safe and confident, her demeanor almost entirely changing. Here she is a methodical person, even boasting an air of sarcasm at times. She is much more inclined to lighthearted banter or friendly interactions.

Bio:
Ryan was born in a run-down post-war community. Organized society was nearly nonexistent – surviving only in small groups living off scraps. Their village was at constant threat by bandits and Ryan learned early on that if you don’t hide and hold your breath you may as well be dead. It stayed ingrained within her as an instinct and it never went away.
She learned how to salvage machinery and electronics because it was a necessary skill to have and you couldn’t just not know something like that. She gradually found out that she had a knack for it and was soon praised by her peers and cherished by the community for her skill. A woman once gave her a large box of colourful chalk as a gift, for repairing the small heater that kept her from freezing at night. Ryan had never had such a non-utilitarian item before and she took to drawing intricate images whenever she felt uneasy. It took her mind off of things.
At some point she discovered an almost intact security mech from before the war and gradually managed to get it back into working order and outfit it with several additional gadgets. They now had a line of defence. With the help of the security mech several raids were fought off and Ryan began to feel brave and strong within it for the first time since she was born. She was their guardian. Their Sentinel.
Until the day her village was attacked by an army. This particular gang had managed to get their hands on an old military base and her Sentinel, although it made a fair stand, was no match for their equipment. A stray rocket took out a bearing wall off the already crumbling building that served as their shelter and crashed it on top of the lone mech and any people unfortunate enough to be around it.
Any survivors were taken as slaves and all supplies were looted. Ryan awoke in a battered but still functioning mech. She managed to dig herself out of the rubble but soon after realized that she was alone in her luck. There was no one to smile at her anymore and no one to tell her not to be afraid. So with that new layer of fear lodged deep into her heart she set off to survive.

Wish: All she ever wanted was to not be afraid anymore. To be safe.

Echo:
A large room, no windows, lit by fluorescent lights. The walls and floor are covered by intricate chalk drawings. A small radio in the corner plays a violin piece.

Appearance:
A young girl, not particularly tall and looking kind of sickly. She is very thin, her skin almost transparently pale and covered in freckles. Her eyes are large, round and bright blue, sporting a pair of dark circles underneath them and the look of a startled deer. Her hair is a rusty ginger colour, vaguely wavy and looking unkempt, her eyebrows – almost nonexistent. She moves awkwardly like she isn’t sure where her limbs should go whenever they aren’t on the controls. Her walk seems hurried and skittish, like the skittering of a mouse and her stature suggests that she’s trying to make herself smaller than she is.


Frenzy:

If outside of the mech:
Her limbs seem to extend, making her look ganglier than ever and her back arches down to place her on all fours. Her hair grows along the rest of her body and her nails and teeth take on a shape more akin to claws and fangs. Making her literally behave and look like a cornered beast. In this form she moves at incredibly high speeds and is very agile, able to climb walls and buildings as long as there’s a spot to hook her claws onto. She will circle the enemy trying to confuse them and make them lose her from sight, then lunge at them from cover.

If inside the mech:
Her body literally fuses with the mech, growing twice its size and taking it apart using it as armour. In this form she is in a state of bloodlust and will lash out viciously at her opponent, disregarding any and all environmental factors. Her strength and resilience are increased to incredible levels.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Lily Strider
Alias: Inari
Race: Kitsune/Fox Spirit (was once human)
Sex: Female
Class: Trickster
Appearance: As a human Lily might have been described as simply pretty, but following her transformation from human to something mythological, there is no denying her striking, youthful, beauty. She is a comparatively tall woman, standing at 175cm, built slender and athletic yet with prominent assets, who presents herself with a calm and oftentimes aloof front - standing straight-backed and observant.

While not immediately obvious, closer inspection will reveal and Eastern Asian heritage, mixed with European blood, granting her large, expressive eyes, coloured a brilliant blue - brown, when she was still human - full lips, and a fair, heart-shaped face that gives her a surprisingly gentle look, counteracting the feral nature that her slitted pupils, elongated canines, and large, vulpine ears atop her head seem to imply. Perhaps most important of all, regarding her mythological side, are the nine, snow white, fox tails, growing out from behind her, each almost as long as she is tall and - were she to be a judge - delightfully fluffy and soft.

Of the features she has retained from when she was human, her hair is the most noticeable. Hanging free, the cascades of jet black hair, falling down her back, would reach to her thighs; straight and thick. She, however, most often wears it in one thick braid, tied at the end with a red silk ribbon gifted to her by her lover once. She also sports extraordinarily long finger nails, growing out entirely straight and tapering to a softly rounded point at the end. They are perpetually coloured a purpleish blue. It is not, however, by choice, as she has yet to learn shapeshifting, and her powers thus force her into her current appearance, regrowing nails and hair should it be cut.

She started off the tournament wearing a jacket over a black t-shirt, leggings and a knee-length skirt, however circumstances has robbed her of her skirt and jacket, leaving her wearing only her stockings and tight t-shirt. Parts of both articles have dark spots of dried blood, where bullets have previously hit her.

Equipment:
Short of her own clothes, Lily is a fighter without weapons, preferring instead her wits and quick reflexes. She does have with her a pack of food and other necessities.

Abilities:
Lily is a quick and agile individual, possessing speed and agility far beyond human limitations. Besides various tricks of the trade like pickpocketing, deft and nimble finger, gymnastics, parkour, and the skill to hide almost anywhere, Lily possesses vast magical powers focused almost solely around the illusory and evocation schools.

Thanks to the relatively limited repertoire of abilities her transformation has granted her, she has been able to become incredibly skilled in their use, in just ten years that she has had them. These abilities include, true to the the mythology, being able to conjure and control fire and lightning, create vivid and intricate illusions capable of tricking all five senses. The power of her illusions, so to speak, is determined by how much her opponent believes them to be true. She could conjure the image of a boulder and let it fall down upon her adversary, and - if believed to be real - they would feel the impact and the pain as if it were a boulder. They would not, however, be hurt by it, only believe so. Essentially, the more gullible or less thoughtful her opponent is, the more likely that her illusions work as intended.

As for her destructive abilities, she has a total of three types of magic: Fire, lightning, and force. Force is the least complicated of the three, and simply allows her to sends forth a wave of nearly invisible kinetic energy at short to medium range, the origin point of the blast being anywhere on her person. It is a simple cantrip that, none the less, packs enough of a punch to dent a one inch steel plate.

Fire and lightning are somewhat more complex.
Rubbing her tails together creates friction and static electricity, which stores up electricity for Lily to use, and unleash at later points. The range and power of this varies greatly, from melee to dozens, if not over a hundred, metres. The longer away it is, the more of her stored power she had to unleash. Among other things, this means that she can replicate a taser by touching, or create full on lightning strikes at great range by unleashing it all at once, or most of it. The more powerful her lightning strike is, the more power she needs to store up again.

Fire obeys the same rules as lightning, in that she uses the friction of her tails to generate heat that becomes her foxfire: Blue orbs of flame the size of a tennis ball. The difference here is that she cannot store up "fuel" for these, but has to generate it on the go. Doing so makes number of foxfires materialize in the air around her, moving under her command. She can then fire them at her opponents, directing them in whatever manoeuvres and directions she desires. Contact, or manual detonation, results in explosions equal to that of a small rocket each.

Fighting Style:
Lily is a trickster, meaning that she is not someone to directly confront an opponent. She has the ability to unleash devastating attacks, but doing so drains her and leaves her vulnerable until she can charge up more electricity or conjure more fire. For that reason she makes good use of her own craftiness to avoid direct confrontation whenever possible. For this purpose she uses her illusions to misdirect and mislead her opponent, either tricking them into thinking that she is somewhere that she isn't, or that some attack is incoming when there isn't any. She likes to take her time to analyse her opponent, using the time her illusions grant her to spot weaknesses and opportunities, and strike at the most opportune moment. Other uses includes creating terrifying spectres, intimidating beasts, or even creatures that are beyond beautiful. What she uses depends almost entirely upon her opponent, and what she has gleaned about them during the bout.

One of her commonly used tricks is to create an illusion of herself standing a short distance away from an illusion she has created of herself, while rendering herself invisible. This allows her to strike unseen, and misdirect attacks.

As for uses of her more practical powers: She might use lightning to stun, or fire to blind, further allowing her to sow confusion in her opponent's mind. She thrives in misdirection, making her opponent think that an attack is coming from the front, when in actuality she is behind them, ready to unleash a blast of lightning, or crack their spine with a well-placed force-blast.

Against foes that can not reliably be fooled by her trickery, she instead hides and strikes from a distance, setting up illusory traps that, if nothing else, will momentarily confuse her adversary and give her time to set up for a lethal strike.

With the addition of Brucie on her team, she has become of the habit of using him as an ace, in that she takes on the role as bait and distracts her opponent, allowing Brucie to deliver crippling blows. Depending on the opponent she might do it the other way, and use him as a distraction while she readies a lethal strike.

Personality:
Lily is not a kind person.

For those that know her this is an important thing to remember. Lily does not know kindness like others do.

Growing up an orphan and living alone in the streets of the London suburbs has hardened her. It was a life that left little place for pleasantries and altruism. Especially for those with whom Lily shared nothing, or very little. There was one, however, with whom she shared a great deal, and it was because of him that she has not become a hollow shell of a human without compassion. She experienced very little of it, and so has come to treasure tiny deeds and sacrifices, as meaning far more than any grand gesture. This fact, along with the presence of the man known as Max, is why she has not become jaded like so many others who shared her life.

She acts aloof and disinterested in most things, keeping many of her thoughts hidden from those outside. But inside she is much more. She pays close attention to how people around her act, matching her own behaviour to match how she perceives theirs. Arrogance or pride is met with disregard and provocation. Anger is met with calm and smiles that never reach her eyes. Boorishness is faced with mocking comments and gestures. When faced with anything unsavoury and negative, she does her best to draw out the worst in them, forcing them to either face themselves, or to fall when she topples down their pedestal. The only exceptions to this rule is if she is keenly aware of an enormous difference in power, and suspects that her own life might be forfeit if she does not conform to whatever standards are expected of her in the eyes of whoever possesses these negative triats. But even then she does only the bare minimum.
On the other hand, kindness is met with kindness. Loyalty with loyalty. If genuine, she will return whatever she is given as best she can.

So while she is not kind, that does not mean that she does not sympathise with others in ways that no one else does. And though she usually acts rough and aloof, the shells she has formed around her heart, hides a compassionate soul that understands loss, grief, loneliness, and love in ways that so many others never even consider. To her, love from a family is not something that is expected, but love in general is something that has to be well and truly earned.

Bio:
Who ever thought but there would be more than one world in existence? Not planets, but dimensions. A universe like ours only different - key points in time having been altered in such a way, that everything had evolved and changed in new and unimaginable ways. And to live in one where every mythological creature had returned from the legends not half a millennia past?

Lily Strider, street urchin, would never have thought that possible had that not been her reality - living in a world connected to four other realms, different yet similar. Then again her life and everyday was focused around trying to find food and shelter. Dry days were difficult, wet days even worse. Even the hot days, those normal people looked forward to, brought with them their own sets of challenges. Where the cold days made it difficult to stay warm, hot days made food spoil quicker which could be just as disastrous as being sick in the winter.

Lily lived with a man called Max since the first day she could remember. She had no mother or father, nor siblings, familiar only with the same old alleys every night and, of course, Max. The only person she had to look up to, and the only person she loved and who loved her. She never knew why she lived in the streets of some suburb outside of London, only that it had forever been her life, and it most likely would for ever be where she lived. It was here that she learned to pickpocket, steal, run, hide, and generally use her head to survive as she had no other choice, if she didn't want to go hungry. In the time they spent together, Max had taught her much, but however much she wished it, even his time on earth would not be eternal.

One winter, when the weather had been especially harsh, Max had given her his only blanket when she sat freezing one night, which only resulted in him falling sick himself. It was a downhill road from that point onward. Max became more and more sick as the days passed. Lily got him food and clothes, but he kept insisting that she should keep what she found for herself, for he knew that he would get healthy again soon. She would refuse, repeating again and again that she would help him recover however long it took, and he continued to tell her that she ought to look after herself and not him. It was a mantra he continued to say this until he said it for the last time, and lay still one spring morning.

That was the day Lily lost the only thing she had ever loved. And the day she closed off her heart.

From that day onwards Lily Strider lived her life alone, caring for naught but her own safety and survival. She stole and tricked and cheated her way through the next couple of years, doing whatever she had to to live. And that was okay. She had nothing to care about except her own survival. A couple of years later, during her late teens, a war broke out between the four realms that had, until now, lived in peace with each other. The largest of the four realms thought it would be better, if they were all ruled by the same government. When the preposition was shut down by the leaders of the other three Realms, they directed their efforts towards a more militaristic approach. It quickly conquered the smallest of the realms, arming its soldiers with their own technology and set them unto a war of conquest against the others. The world in which Lily lived was the third strongest, their only ally now being the second strongest. In an effort to combat the advanced technology of their would-be invaders they joined forces to create technology, that would effectively make a human into one of the mythological creatures that roamed the worlds.

With the aid of some of these mythological creatures, they managed to develop something akin to Gene splicing. It altered a recipient to the point where there was only the personality left of their human past. In some cases, like with Lily's, she's still retained much of her pre-transformation appearance, only that it was enhanced so to speak - making her beautiful when she had been simply pretty at best.

At the age of eighteen, Lily chose to volunteer for the program. They had promised food, shelter, and - to her - exorbitant amounts of money exchange for her services. It was a chance to get out of the street and, perhaps, lead a normal life, so she took it. She was found to be compatible with the nine tailed Fox, and so she became one herself. The girl who had once street urchin was transformed into living weapon, sent to fight those who would rule over them.

The war lasted ten years, but in the end they were able to push back the aggressor, and sealed off access to their Worlds, and so ensured their safety. In those years, Lily changed. She had promised herself never to love again, to never let herself be drawn in with someone only to lose them. Yet she found herself surrounded with people she now consider to be friends: Sindri Haynes, Alice Blackwood, Lilith Akhtar, Celica Dancer, and finally Tsukiko - a young, japanese woman. She seemed to be one whose flippant and never-ending happiness and joy seemed to be the primary traits of their character. And in spite of her sixteen year old promises, the stone around Lily's heart cracked and she slowly, but surely, learned how to love and trust again. This woman gave her the courage to be compassionate, and while she still has a long way to go, she is miles ahead from where she started.

Now, Lily has come to the one place where she knows that there is a chance to complete her family. A chance to repay the man who, in spite of having almost nothing, still decided to take care of a little child who had nothing, and no one.

Wish: A family - for Max to be brought back to life, to live with her and Tsukiko, her lover, as a family.

Echo:
A suburbian area but clean and well maintained houses on either side of the road, and within each house is a replicate of the rooms where Lily and Tsukiko lived during the war, as well as the abodes of her friends. The gardens are simple and, while not overgrown, are not entirely well kept either. Simple grass lawns, with the occasional small pond or flowerbed.

Frenzy:
It happens that Lily is overcome by Rage, when something she truly cares about is threatened or ridiculed in front of her. Were such a thing to happen, her Frenzied state would cause her tails and nails to turn black, her irises becoming yellow and feral looking. In this state she is not quite out of control, but rather loses every shred of compassion and mercy, instead focusing on the single purpose that is the ruination of any obstruction in her path.

When frenzied, Lily's illusory powers become tremendously more powerful to the point of allowing her to warp reality. Provided she is intimately familiar with an individual, object, or area, she becomes capable of making it real for the duration of her Frenzy, upon the end of which it disappears or returns to normal. In essence, she can alter the surrounding terrain (make a cityblock into a dense forest, fx.), create replicas of old friends and comrades, as powerful as they are in life, and/or temporarily create or alter objects (make a knife into a sword, or a stick into a spear).

[It goes without saying that she cannot erase an opponent from existence, or grant her own wish. Only inanimate objects and flora are eligible 'targets' for having their reality manipulated]

Inventory:

• Phylactery
• Flask
  
  • Transmutes any liquid poured in, into a golden healing tonic.
• Glasses
  
  • Provides x-ray vision
• Phoenix Feather
  
  • Revives a dead person in a shower of light, but is consumed.
• Globe
  
  • Projects a holographic map of the entire city. Also usable as a key for a certain machine.
• Longsword
• Automatic Rifle (Brucie)
• 60 Rounds (30 in rifle, 30 in spare) (Brucie)
• 2 Frag & 2 Smoke grenades (Brucie)
• 4 Rockets for Brucie's 'Launcher (Brucie)

Name: Cyril Boniface

Alias: Knight Sylvestre

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Class: Vanguard

Equipment: Cyril's main armament is a halberd, also known as a glaive. It is a polearm with a 6” metal shaft with a semi-spiral shape and a head comprised of a single, long, curved piece of metal attached at both the handle's top and a point a foot below. Its surface is engraved with lines evocative of twisting roots

The other piece of equipment Cyril uses is a circular shield, two feet in diameter, its brightly polished chrome surface ribbed in a spiral pattern to help deflect force. The shield attaches to Cyril's armor on his left mid-upper arm, allowing him to use his halberd with both hands at the cost of versatile defense. However, the shield does have a handle on the inside, and by gripping it and turning, Cyril is able to remove the shield to hold it more or less normally, though he cannot use his halberd at full effectiveness while doing so. On the shield's handle, there is also a throttle like a law mower's, and holding down the throttle revs up the shield's internal chainsaw, causing the chain of gleaming polished teeth surrounding the shield's outer edge to spin. The teeth are reflective enough that while moving, they appear as brilliant sparkling light. The saw can be used while the shield is off, and if thrown with enough strength like a disc it will keep the shield aloft far longer than its weight would imply, but the saw will stop after the throttle has been released for a few seconds

Abilities: No slouch in the strength and fortitude departments, Cyril is capable of throwing his weight around and soaking up a lot of punishment in the course of a fight. He is also well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, and while preferring to kick, he can also punch and grapple a prospective opponent

Cyril commands one special ability, which he simply refers to as 'Sheen', granted to him by his armor. Cyril is able to give himself a sudden burst of momentum in a direction he's moving, and while doing so, his armor gains a brilliant luster. While doing this, his own friction is negated, and gravity has less of an effect on him. This can be used in a variety of ways. Just to name a few, he can perform an enhanced shield bash that can carry him forward several meters, perform a sliding thrust that covers a lot of distance, carry himself into the air to perform a drop attack, deliver a flying kick despite his encumbrance, and so forth. He can't usually lose his balance while using Sheen, but when his focus is broken -usually by pain & injury- using Sheen becomes extremely risky, as he can fall easily

Fighting Style: Cyril's fighting style has traces of the cautious, defensive style used by the average vanguard, but his is a remarkably gung-ho method of attack. Cyril attacks with very little held back, waiting just long enough to be secure of his position before putting on the pressure and never letting up. If landing a critical strike means taking a hit himself, he may throw caution to the wind and go for it. He uses his halberd both to thrust with the tip and to hack and slash with the blade, mixing up the angle of attack to prevent enemies from getting their bearings. If given the opportunity, he will also hook a foe off his or her feet using the back of the halberd.

Despite the tenacity of his assault, he abuses his halberd's range advantage to fight from just outside typical melee distance, but if forced closer or if an opening is presented, he may charge in with a brutal kick, lunge punch, head smash, or grapple in order to soften them up or take them to the ground. He also enjoys bashing with his shield while it's still on his body, detaching it to use as a devastating close-range cutter, or throwing it; he has enough strength to make both of his armaments into potentially lethal projectiles.

Rather than outright blocking attacks, he prefers to parry and redirect force to preserve his own momentum and keep the fight in his hands. That said, he can block both with his shield and his greaves, which is aided by his sense of balance. He's also not bad on the mobility department; he's mastered backstepping, pivoting, and even rolling in his armor.

However, the sheer effort of his fast-pasted, overpowering fighting style leaves him exhausted pretty quickly, after which he shifts to total defense in order to regain his breath. If faced with an enemy who uses a keep-away strategy, he will also shift to 'total defense' mode, being unable to really fight outside of halberd range. He doesn't want to kill, but if his survival is at stake, or if he believes a foe is 'evil', he will not hesitate to take a life

Personality: Bitter, sarcastic, and jaded to the world, but nevertheless fighting without fail for what he believes is right, Cyril is a knight in sour armor. He's typically quiet, especially around multiple people, but he can be surprisingly eloquent in 1-on-1 conversations, displaying a sort of intelligence and cunning that is often hidden behind either his indifference or his rudeness. While not a bully in any sense of the word, he does seem unable to prevent himself from putting others down, especially once he decides someone is an enemy. He tends to hold grudges and resents those who look down on him. However, he can come across as rather personable if someone respects him and puts in the effort to get to know him, and he's both grateful for help and steadfast in returning favors. Amongst a certain few, he might even display his trademark dry humor. In some areas, Cyril is hypocritical; he thinks that heroes should be benevolent and kind, while he himself is not, and he believes in the sanctity of life even as he takes them. Despite the aggressiveness of his combat style, he is not actually hot-headed, and can think things through even in the thick of action. Cyril wishes he was a better man and a better hero, and while he might not take criticism well, he does strive to better himself. Notably, Cyril doesn't swear, and he will do his utmost to never engage in immoral activity, such as theft

Bio: Cyril was born during the regency of Anton Sladway, in the capital city of the Sovereign Republic, Malingurd. His father, a paladin in service of the city rangers -an official militia tasked with the defense of the city and surrounding countryside from local threats, broke his vow of celibacy out of overwhelming love for a woman by the name of Florette Justine, an outcast and scapegoat widely considered a witch -if not a succubus in human form- by most for her enchanting beauty and eccentric manner. In choosing her, César made himself an outcast as well, but in the end with the help of his friend and his glowing reputation, he managed to attain a good life not just for himself, but for his wife as well, and the couple had three children together.

Cyril and his little sisters, Ludivene and Ghyslaine, grew up in good circumstances, but the boy stood out from the trio for his undying love of heroes. Fascinated by stories, he sought them out whenever possible, be them from books at the city's library or from the mouths and memories of old men. He idolized his mother and father, and wished more than anything to grow up and become a heroic warrior just like his old man. He could not understand why César and Florette so often tried to disabuse him of his obsession, and when the time came, he was taken under the wing of Malingurd's finest, training day after day in swordplay, discipline, and the martial arts.

When the time came, he marched off to do his duties, and discovered that real life wasn't exactly like the stories he knew so well. One day, he might be stabbed while trying to appeal to a burglar to come quietly. Another, his gear or money might be stolen by someone he'd been convinced to trust. A normal situation might turn into a brutal fight for his life, ending only with the death of a person he'd felt sure was an innocent. He failed to convince jumpers to climb down from their ledges; he lay in the hospital for days following awful defeats in battle. Convinced he needed a change of scene to make a difference, he asked for reassignment to the exterior division of the militia, and witnessed firsthand the rape and pillage of poor villages by bandits, the slaughter of men, women, and children by evil beings, and even the corruption, hatred, and violence of the soldiers he'd expected to be allies. During this time, he abandoned the sword and instead utilized the halberd for its brutality and versatility.

It all came to a head in the infamous One Month War, not long after his twenty-third birthday, where the mayor of a prominent trade fort on a nearby gulf declared his region sovereign and battled against the capital's militia for a month. While he survived the experience, Cyril's idealism did not. When the mayor saw how things were going, he enlisted a mad genius to unleash a hellish, mutagenic plague on his own citizens, turning a bloody turf war into a frantic fight to the death against demons. In addition to taking the lives of over a dozen men and witnessing his comrades mow down defiant peasants where they stood, Cyril now faced twisted monstrosities that murdered and mutilated ally and innocent alike. On one moonlit night, while returning to base as one of the two survivors of a catastrophic skirmish, he encountered a horrific creature that his friend recognized as Hortense—his own sister, compelled by her own ideals to side with the rebellion. At first unable to fight against his own blood, Cyril's friend took a mortal wound, but in his dying moments he inflicted an injury upon the demon that allowed Cyril to sever her legs at the calves and then take her head. The entire experience, particularly the look in the transformed woman's eyes as he stood over her with his halberd poised, haunts him. Since then, he's seen a lot of misery and tragedy, and grown bitter. The world, he'd found out, was a cruel one, but even then it was in dire need of someone who would always do the right thing.

Wish: To reset the world, recreating the current state of affairs without evil, thereby restoring to life every person who's ever been killed in an act of evil who would otherwise currently be living

Echo: A logging station in the shadowy woods, the area littered by the corpses of knights and poor lumberjacks. Sitting against a stack of logs is the headless corpse of a demon. A stiff wind blows through the place, making the leaves and the grass whisper—a soft symphony of somber prayers for the lost

Appearance: Standing at 5 feet, eleven and 7/8 inches tall, Cyril is a well-built man with a dark complexion. His long, chocolate-brown hair is very thick, and naturally gathers into clumps that very loosely resemble swordblades. His features are rigid, his eyes brown, and he has a cleft chin. A thick, serious mustache adorns his upper lip. Beneath his armor, Cyril wears a forest green gambeson (padded shirt) with a pronounced collar, and matching pants

Cyril's armor is a burnished plate set of unique design. It features a large amount of overlapping plates, allowing for a decent degree of mobility, though it's still a few degrees removed from scale mail. The largest distinct pieces include the breastplate, which lies on top of the plates that line the lower half of the torso, and the tasset, which overlays his hips on either side. The pauldrons are separate from the breastplate, and there is no plackart. The armor coloration is stone gray, with black highlights. On top of the armor, he wears a pine-green tabard. The helmet resembles a skull cap more than anything else, though with a full face plate on a hinge; it resembles a Corinthian helmet with the 'visor' down, and a baseball cap when up. The faceplate has a cross-shaped slit for Cyril to see through, and its lower part will attach to his helmet's metal chinstrap for security. Some of the thickest pieces of his armor are his greaves; in exchange, he doesn't wear cuisses

Frenzy: When Frenzy engaged under immense duress, Cyril's eyes alight a furious green, energy spilling from the near-white center and darkening toward the edges. He writhes as he increased in size, fusing with his glowing armor, ultimately transforming into a 10-meter tall, 30-meter long, 20 ton triceratops with an exterior of steel plate. In this form, his physical defense and strength shoot up massively, but he cannot do much aside from throw his weight around, charging and crushing or goring potential opponents to death. In particular, his head is almost indestructible. When he builds up speed while charging, Sheen's glowing aura surrounds him, allowing him to take attacks without staggering and plow through obstacles. His roar when transformed is extremely loud, and sounds like metal tearing, which can cause mind-numbing pain is not protected from. In this form, his eyes, belly, and the inside of his mouth are his weak points

Inventory: A phylactery

Name: Mountain Dew Quickscope

Alias: Gaben's Chosen

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Class: Trickshotter

Equipment: Mountain carries much equipment with him, and it is normally stored on his person.

• Dragon Lore AWP, the Dewrito: The fabled AWP in its final form. Blessed by Lord Gaben himself, this is a weapon of true power. In addition to the legendary stopping power of a stock AWP, the dragon spirit inside the rifle can propel projectiles to absurd speeds and bestow infinite range, although it is a bolt-action sniper, meaning it has a slow fire rate and needs to be reloaded after every shot. It can fire three different types of ammo: Standard, Doritos, and Nokia. The Standard ammo is a regular .50 caliber round. The Doritos round is visually similar to a .50 caliber round, although it is coloured orange and glows. This round leaves an orange trail of spicy Doritos dust as it streaks through the air. Upon hitting a target, it explodes, sending Doritos dust everywhere, before a secondary explosive ignites the dust. Nokia rounds are the most powerful of the three. They are essentially Nokia 3310s in the shape of a .50 caliber round. Thanks to the indestructible properties of Nokium, the toughest material in existence, it cannot be stopped, and can punch through reinforced concrete with ease, passing through one side to the other without stopping. Used sparingly by Mountain as he can only hold a maximum of six Nokia rounds at any time.
• KAP-40: A powerful automatic pistol with a high fire rate and damage. Deadly at close ranges, ineffective at longer ranges.
• Doritos Sword, EXPcalibur: A one-handed sword constructed out of microscopic Doritos, with flavoured dust surrounding it. Very light, making it ideal for fast attacks. Regenerates all damage dealt to it. Can be eaten.
• Illuminati Shield: After defeating the Illuminati, Mountain gained this piece of equipment. It is a triangular green shield of the Illuminati, and is almost indestructible. The Eye of the Illuminati can open and fire a massive laser, although it has a lengthy charge up time and cooldown, and Mountain is immobilised during this period.
• Mountain Dew Grenades: Explosive Mountain Dew cans. Incredibly reactive and can deal heavy electric damage.

Abilities: After becoming a Quickscope Master and Gaben's Chosen, Mountain gained numerous MLG powers.

• Instant Teleportation: Short teleports of two metres or less require a very short cooldown, with a maximum of five seconds.
• Enhanced Reflexes: Mountain has the reflexes of someone playing CoD on 14 sensitivity. He can see and dodge thrown projectiles like knives and arrows.
• Enhanced Strength: While not over the top, Mountain can carry several dozen kilograms without effort.
• Pocket Dimension: Mountain can store any object in his back pocket, including more guns, food, and even vehicles.

Fighting Style: Mountain is mostly a ranged combatant, hardscoping from a distance. Thanks to years of trickshotting and owning noobs at everything, he has lightning-fast reflexes, which he also gained after injecting himself with Red Bull. He is a frightening mid to close ranged fighter. He is a master quickscoper and trickshotter, being able to land headshots from across the map while doing a 1080. He is also incredibly skilled with his Doritos Sword and Illuminati Shield, able to parry attacks and bash with his shield. Mountain utilises his teleport ability to blitz opponents with either his sword or AWP, dealing heavy damage. He is nimble and as fast as an ADHD kid on speed, allowing him to easily dodge relatively slow-moving projectiles such as knives or magic bolts, but not bullets. He prefers to stay at range as his rifle is far more destructive, and he is generally more fragile than other fighters.

Personality: Cocky and confident in his abilities, Mountain is your typical MLG tryhard. He much of a trash-talking loudmouth, not afraid to vocally voice his opinions in the most offensive way possible. He loves taunting his opponents, and he often gets distracted by this. Although he isn't exactly the smartest tool in the shed, he is smart enough to plan ahead, and is highly unpredictable, moving in erratic patterns. He has a tendency to underestimate female fighters, normally yelling at them to stay in the kitchen, when he's not insulting physical appearance. Mountain has also shown to have an inability to pay attention, getting distracted and bored easily. Loves Mountain Dew, Doritos, and Doritos-flavoured Mountain Dew.

Bio: Mountain was a normal albeit highly skilled gamer who loved pwning noobs with his friend Daniel Doritos Blazeit. The two of them lived in the realm of Mlgolia, where everything MLG comes to life. The sun is a gigantic Dorito, the birds are airhorns, and the seas are salty from the tears of LoL players. One day, they were approached by an old man who told them that it was their destiny to stop an ancient hacker forever because their names were written in an ancient prophecy written by Gaben himself. So they went on a dew (see what I did there?) adventure. Eventually, after accidentally shooting the old man in the face and killing Thor, they found themselves in the hacker's dimension. They then battled the hacker XxXPu55ySlay3rXxX the Destroyer of Networks and managed to defeat him. However, Pussyslayer was not beat yet, and he ran away like a little bitch, vowing to pwn their asses next time.

Mountain and Daniel pursued him, gaining new weapons and defeating multiple threats along the way. Finally, after an overly long adventure through time and space and multiple universes, they managed to catch Pussyslayer. With their new weapons and powers, they prepared to defeat him once and for all. Unfortunately, Pussyslayer used the power of Ultimate Hax and very nearly defeated the two, and he almost killed Mountain until the quickscoper managed to distract him with his 500GB porn stash. Using his distraction, Mountain sliced off Pussyslayer's balls with his sword, before quickscoping him sixty-nine times. It was only then that the hacker was defeated, and order was restored to Mlgolia once more.

The two, having fulfilled the prophecy, were brought to the Temple of Gaben and met Lord Gaben himself. Mountain was then granted the title of Gaben's Chosen and became the newest Quickscope Master, legendary heroes with ridiculous powers. Daniel, unfortunately, did not become a Quickscope Master as he was based around shotguns, and he failed to meet the age limit of eighteen years. He was, however, given badass new weapons and accepted into the Steam School of MLG, a prestigious trickshotting academy.

Sometime later, word had gotten out that Electronic Arts, Steam and Lord Gaben's mortal enemy, was planning to unleash the tyranny of Downloadable Content and Preordered Games to the world. Mountain was called upon to stop this threat. Uniting with Daniel and several other heroes, they embarked on their quest into the heart of EA: Origin. The squad fought their way through swaths of Origin soldiers and made it to EA's headquarters. However, Andrew Wilson, the head of EA and evilest man alive, was there to stop them. He managed to defeat the entire Steam squad except for Mountain and Daniel (because they were the main characters). Mountain unleashed his True MLG form and defeated Andrew Wilson for good, ending Origin and EA forever.

Wish: To become the greatest quickscoper to ever exist, to smoke the dankest weed in existence, and to stop the threat of hackers forever.

Echo: In the realm of Mlgolia, there is a massive temple above the clouds. It is black and white, with flags of Steam fluttering everywhere. This is the Temple of Gaben, where Mountain met everyone's lord and saviour himself, and became the latest Quickscope Master and Gaben's Chosen.

Appearance:



Mountain wears an unzipped dark grey MLG hoodie over a black, white, and red FaZe Clan T-shirt, with dark blue jeans fastened by a black leather belt, and black and green sports shoes. He would look fairly average if not for his AWP strapped to his back and KAP-40 holstered by his hip. His sword and shield are usually not present, as he is able to summon them at will. He has short and messy black hair and a Flymemo EACH G4000 Noise Cancelling Headset hanging around his neck. He wears a pair of armoured fingerless gloves on his hands for protection when in combat, and when he's gaming. His formerly-blue eyes are now green after getting his powers, glowing slightly in the dark. He stands at a fairly average 5'11" and has a lean build with light skin.

Frenzy: Unleashing his True MLG form, Mountain is surrounded by a green aura, and rotating Mountain Dew crystals which render him invulnerable to damage until they are broken. The crystals shoot energy beams at targets. He can fly during this time, and he becomes even stronger and faster than before, able to block and dodge most attacks. His weapons also become incredibly powerful, such as the blade of his sword becoming monomolecular and rounds fired from his rifle travelling through the air almost instantly. However, he loses the ability to teleport. His eyes also glow pure green as a badass remix of Darude - Sandstorm plays in the background.

Inventory (Includes items in pocket dimension):

• Phylactery
• Board
  
  • Provides speedy horizontal transportation and long jumps (provided enough speed has been reached) for the rider.
• Ammo for weapons
• Six Nokia rounds
• Snacks and drinks
• Tools

Name: Bartholomew K. Runch
Alias: Captain K. Runch, the Cereal Killer
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Class: Devil Fruit Swordsman
Equipment:

• The Spoonsaber – A wildly impractical weapon for most, but Runch is proficient with it. The edges of the spoon head are serrated, allowing for a rip and tear style cut, while the overall shape allows Runch to swat some attacks away or launch objects similar to a catapult.
• Flintlock – A single-shot pistol on his belt,it is loaded with powder but never any ammunition, as Runch creates the most fitting shot he can think of at any given moment on the fly. Is only a sidearm used primarily for distractions or to take advantage of a lowered guard.

Abilities:

• Accomplished swordsman – Runch is by no means a master of the blade, but he is proficient in his own right and can hold his own. His weapon is so absurd and unique that most others wouldn’t even know how to use it, but if he were to go up against a dedicated swordmaster and rely on nothing but his own skill with a blade, then he would surely lose.
• Vast Endurance – Runch is not the strongest fighter, nor the fastest, but he can take a great deal of punishment and keep fighting on. Since his bori bori no mi powers require that he eat a type of cereal himself before he can create it, he’s been forced to expose himself to every single weaponized Krunch Berry he’s ever developed.
• Bori Bori no Mi (Crunch Crunch Fruit): Having eaten the devil’s fruit known as the bori bori no mi, Runch is a cereal man, able to create and manipulate any type of cereal that he has himself eaten. The amount he can produce is theoretically limitless, but once created and expelled from his body he has no power over it. At creation he first chooses which recipe of cereal he has eaten (some examples include poisoned, explosive via gunpowder, peanut butter, etc.), then creates it with the physical properties of his choice (size, density, etc.), and finally where and how it emerges from his body. The cereal can be weakened by moisture, and Runch himself is unable to swim due to the devil fruit’s curse. Instead he sinks like a stone.

Fighting Style: Field-control is number one in Captain K. Runch’s priority. Not being as strong or as fast as his opponents means that he has to manipulate the battlefield to his advantage, and he makes full use of his bori bori powers to do it. To trip up enemies he’ll leave berry pellets as dense and hard as steel. To block unavoidable attacks he’ll erect a wall of dense, heavy cereal pellets. To keep himself mobile he may propel around with a quick blast of cereal from his feet, and rain explosive cereal down from above, or even gum up his opponent and/or their weapons with peanutbutter-shot. Between it all Runch will generally launch quick hit and run tactics using his spoonsaber.

Personality: A pirate on the high seas, but a very friendly, jolly, and jovial man with a unique laugh (omnomnomnom!), Captain Bartholomew K. Runch is the kind of man to cheerfully make friends first, and battle second. He’d rather win you over with the perfect bowl of cereal and enjoy a night on the town than engage in a skirmish, but he certainly won’t shy away from a battle once it’s clear such a thing can no longer be avoided. He commands his crew fairly, but is stern and authoritative. Off ship, Runch treats everyone with respect until they prove it is undeserved, though certain formalities may fly over his head. Intelligent, but no genius, he’s an educated man that can nonetheless be slightly naïve or gullible, which owes more to his trusting nature than his overall intellect. Despite his epithet of the “Cereal Killer,” Runch goes out of his way to avoid killing unless there is no other alternative, or the victim in question has proven that they are the worst kind of scum, the kind of person which he claims, “don’t deserve the joy of seeing a child’s smile.”

Bio: Born a lad on a large island in the northern seas, Bartholomew K. Runch was raised as a wheat farmer. Though he enjoyed the family business well enough, his dream happened to be liess on the production side of the farming, and more on the manufacturing side. He desired to take the wheat and grain and fashion it into cereal that his family could market and sell under their own branding. So at a fairly young age, he took over the family business and expanded their process, investing in the tools and equipment he would need to fulfill his dream.

A few years had passed, and his new business was booming among the local islands. His product had become a major import in the area, his family gained a new height of profit, and his respect grew. Still, if you were to ask Runch himself, he’d tell you that the best part of it all was to see the joyful smiles on people’s faces, children and adults alike, as they scarfed down his latest recipes. If only there was a way to get his work out to the rest of the world! Alas, they were in a rather quiet and disconnected area, isolated from other people, and they didn’t have the fields or production to be able to reliably supply other places. Such ideas would remain a pipe dream.

At least Runch thought so, until he received summons from a far away island across the sea! The king of this land had heard tale of his cereal and invited Runch to a competition against other cereal chefs that were to gather together. Excitedly, Runch gathered his essentials and left to prepare for the competition, leaving his business behind for the rest of the family to take part of. Once there, he and the competition were treated to audience with the king and explained the rules of the competition. Each would have one day to prepare the best, tastiest, most delicious sample of cereal they could for the king to enjoy, and the winner would join his majesty on an expedition to the most dangerous and legendary lands on the planet in order to seek out new ingredients to even better their recipe.

More excited than he ever thought possible, Runch took the competition very seriously. He and the three other competitors provided their meals for the king to enjoy. After an hour of deliberation, a winner had been declared. Bartholomew K. Runch would be setting sail soon as the month came to an end. He and the king celebrated that night, but the joyous occasion would come to a terrible and tragic end. One of the other competitors, jealous and enraged over his loss, snuck into the king’s chambers and murdered him the next morning. Runch arrived just in time to catch the perpetrator red handed, but was not able to stop the murder from occurring. Still enraged, the killer turned his sights on Runch, who fought hard to defend himself, but was no warrior.

Nearly down and out, Runch had been knocked into a display case which held various objects the king had collected, spilling the contents upon the floor. The nearly beaten cereal chef spied a bizarre berry with strange swirl patterns and recalled the legends of the devil fruit, which could grant amazing powers. He quickly gobbled it up (instantly regretting this action as the fruit itself was the worst tasting thing he could have ever imagined) and reached out with his hand as his assailant charged. A stream of cereal blasted from the open palm, slamming into the murderer and knocking him out of the window. The royal guard, summoned by the sounds of the battle, kicked in the door to find Runch alone with their deceased king, and made the natural assumption. Instinct kicked in, and Runch fled the scene.

After that day a bounty was placed on his head, and so he could never go home again. Determined to bring the old king’s dream to reality, he set out on the only path left available to him, and thus he recruited a crew of buccaneers and brigands to sail the high seas free from any law, following only their hearts and adventure. One day he will explore all new lands and sample every ingredient so that he can create the perfect recipe, just as king Bonaparte desired.

Wish: Runch set sail in order to explore the world and find as many exotic and amazing places as he could, and gather every ingredient possible from these strange lands in hopes of being able to create the “perfect cereal,” one which is tasty and nutritious for both adults and children alike. To that end, he desires the perfect ship, which can carry he and his crew anywhere in the world they choose to go.

Echo: Within a faraway island kingdom, a palace sits crawling with guards and soldiers, while inside a monarch is dead, slain with a spoon through the heart…

Appearance:
Runch is not an especially tall man, standing at only 5’6”, with a lean but muscular build. Somewhat pale despite all the ocean sun he gets, with a snow white mustache jutting down nearly two feet from his face stylized in a razor-sharp looking V, he wears the coat of a marine that has been dyed blue. Adorned upon his head is a wide blue bicorn hat with a large ‘K’ emblazoned (somewhat poorly) upon it.

Frenzy: When forced into the frenzy, all trace of the jolly ol’ cap’n is gone. He could not even be recognized on sight, as he produces a thick armor of highly dense cereal and attacks with abandon, resembling some sort of mush monster fashioned from grain and wheat. He constantly leaks cereal of all kinds from every recipe he’s ever concocted. Most are harmless, of course, but many are poisonous, explosive, gooey, acidic, and other forms of very nasty. His intent in this form is nothing short of the complete smothering of his opponent so that they are buried in a large mound of mush until they succumb to the properties of the various dangerous cereal mixes, or die of asphyxiation.

Inventory: Phylactery
Journal
Knowledge is power
Provides a readout of the behavior and abilities of a nearby organism when opened, generating a new permanent page each time

Power Armor: Thanks to the electrically motivated fiber bundles this heavy armor acts as if she is not wearing it, allowing the same mobility as an unarmored combatant while offering considerable protection, allowing the user to shrug off low caliber rounds and potentially allow the user to survive direct hits by heavier ordnance. As with all armor its weakness is in the joints where the armor is weaker to facilitate the movement of limbs. The helmet contains an integral rebreather, allowing the Sister to operate in total vacuum for limited periods. The helmet also provides flash suppression, thermal vision, night vision, a com peice linked to speakers, a display that can let her review data and inbuilt binoculars. The armor contains an internal power supply that will not run out unless damaged.
Jetpack: this back mounted flight pack shaped like a pair of angles wings allows her to soar through the skies. The pack is much more vulnerable than the rest of the armor and she must go to great lengths to protect it lest she lose her major advantage. It has about 20 minute combined flight time and takes 1 minute to refuel with promethium.
Twin Bolt pistols: two immense hand-cannons that fire massive rocket propelled rounds, these rounds penetrate the target and then detonate inside their body. 12 bolts per clip.
Hand falmer: a small handheld flamethrower, useful for burning lots of heretics. The promethium tank holds 5 seconds worth of flame.
Inferno pistol: a short ranged anti tank weapon, this fires a blinding beam of light out of its barrel that incinerates everything in front of it. Useful for burned one heretic a lot more than usual. About 3 seconds of face melting are provided per high pressure gas canister.
Chain-knives: these close combat weapons are dagger sized chainsaws that ginde and slice through flesh and armor alike.

These 6 weapons are stored in holsters attached to her hips, one bolt pistol, knife and special weapon each side. ammo wise she generally carries 6 spare clips, 3 tanks and 2 canisters bring her to a grand total of 72 bolts, 15 seconds of flame and 6 seconds of melta.


Seraphim training: The ability to be able to simultaneously fly around in power armor while dual wielding miniature rocket launchers. No other skills needed other than faith in the emperor.
Faith: For the emperor gives his miracles onto the faithful. He is the sun's rays in your enemy's eye, the bird’s flight they mistake for you, the branch they should not touch lest it make a sound when they are sneaking around, the dodgy masonry that crumbles beneath their feet. Prayer bolsters the likelihood of divine intervention and Sophia prays all the time in combat.*
Vile Mutation: Her left arm has suffered a mutation at the hands of Clotho's mutagen serum. At first glance, it resembled a centipede, long and bendy but with a chitinous shell. In a row across its tops and bottom were little protrusions that resembled legs, but on its end were three jointed digits that ended in sharp talons. The mutation was not pretty, but it could have been worse. In addition to being completely flexible, its claws work much like fingers. In the very center of the 'palm', a little barb could extend to inject a liquid that shone as bright as a holy elixir. Note: she hates this thing with a passion.


Sophia soars through the air with grace and speed, reining explosive and burning death upon her enemies while sing the praise of the god emperor the whole time. The Seraphim doctrine preaches hit and run tactics, using your superior speed to come at your enemies from an unexpected angle, unload all of your ammunition, then retreat to reload. Sophia’s singing kind of gets in the way of the ‘unexpected angle’ part, but here fervent prayers can have the same effect as a the flight of the Valkyries, terrifying the target with the sound of incoming destruction and maybe making the emperor happy enough to give her a little help.

Her speed lets her get in relatively close where her flamer and incinerator are most useful and still be able to back out at a moment's notice should a particular skilled melee combatant come at her. The bolt pistols are a relatively effective medium range weapon, if slightly inaccurate and thus are similarly most useful at close range. They are also the weapons she uses if she is in melee combat, aiming to end the confrontation with a single deadly shot rather than engaging in a bout of swordsmanship, though if she has to parry the bulky weapons might do the job. The two knives are a final resort, used only if she has no ammo remaining and can’t get away to acquire more.

Sophia has a problem where her weapons are extremely ammo hungry and as a result she either has to carry large amounts of exposed volatile munitions on her person using bandoleers or have access to a nearby supply cache, something she would set up around the city if she has an opportunity.

If she loses her flight capabilities she goes into a more ambush style, actually striking from unexpected angles or having the emperor's guidance* leading her to useful supplies in the abandoned city to create rudimentary deathtraps (rings of blinding lights, hidden propane tanks, vehicles with bricks holding down the accelerator etc.).


She is a proud individual, assured in her own worthiness and strength from her time in service to the emperor, anything that causes here difficulty is but a test from the emperor that can be overcome with faith and firepower. As a result her mind is hardened and her will strong, she is very difficult to break psychologically and willing to do anything to complete her mission. She is bold and will speak her mind loudly without hesitation, daring anyone else to disagree with her.

Full of religious zeal, Sophia is 100% assured in her beliefs and as a result view all that is magic or inhuman as blasphemies upon the face of the world, treating them with at best with scorn and contempt when she has to leave them alone and with a righteous fury and hails of bullets at the slightest opportunity.

If you are human and not a witch Sophia can be much more agreeable to be around and, apart from some insistence that you accept the emperor into your life, will act with honor and compassion to those of her kind. She has a lot of respect for those who are willing to fight against the magical and monstrous as she does, armed with nothing the weapons of humanity. A battle between two normal humans is considered a noble duel, she will be willing to accept the opponent's surrender, to offer respite if asked and is known to compliment her opponent on their skills. However her divine mission will not allow her to give up, although without her weapons she would be much easier for the merciful victor to subdue than a mage or monster.

On the more personal side of things she has never lost her love of flight, it is a glorious gift that she would loath to give up. As a result she will take any opportunity to use her jet pack to soar through the skies, even when walking would have worked just fine. When not fighting or preparing to fight she will practice her singing or read, either religious text or research about the world and its potential threats. She is also rather fond of mints.


Extract from religious text*
Long ago there was the Imperium and the god emperor of mankind who ruled it. The Imperium spanned the entire galaxy and all was right with the world. This world was once one among untold millions that served faithfully. Then one day heresy rose on this planet, ships from beyond stopped coming and in the ensuing chaos any way of contacting the other worlds was lost. Now the world is filled with inhuman monsters and foul magic and we are few. Yet we stand firm in our faith, in the name of the emperor we fight to cleanse this world.

Personal history
Sophia was not always a religious zealot, as a young girl she was enamored with the flying woman of the Seraphim and while extensive religious indoctrination have made her a devout follower of the imperial creed she still loves flying, taking every opportunity to practice the art of the flight pack. The Seraphim are one of the most elite of the Adepta Sororitas due to the years of training required to master the level of dexterity and battlefield awareness required to soar through the air wearing power armor without cybernetic enhancement and dual wielding massive pistols.

Among the Seraphim Sophia is one of the most skilled, her dedication and love of flight having lead her to the height of aerial mastery. She is also known to have a wonderful singing voice. Unfortunately she practices both of these at once which has somewhat limited her ability to climb the ranks of the chain of command but she doesn’t really care, she gets to fly and serve the emperor, that is all she needs.

It should probably be noted that the imperial creed is not a particularly large organisation on the planet, the state religion of a single relatively small nation that hits above its weight thanks to the support of the Adepta Sororitas warriors and weaponry. As a result she has spent as much time standing, or preferably hovering, around important religious or political figures as they argue about things as she has on the battlefield or hunting down witches or demons. Much of this time was spent either reading from the data display inside her helmet or learning the fine art of diplomacy second hand. It appears to involve a lot of shouting and insults.


Her mission is to destroy the heretical artifact itself, the Adepta Sororitas have declared the object heretical and thus it must be destroyed, if the only way to do that is to have one of their won partake in its game then so be it. While there is obvious religious reasoning behind this it is also the case that many believe using a device from the lost city might cause the same to happen to more than just one nation. There is always the temptation to use it for selfish gains however, to use the device to call the Imperium back to this world.


Imperial palace on holy Terra seat of the emperor of mankind and the most holy of sites in the imperium.* All of the imperial creed hope to someday travel here once their world renters the galactic stage. The image is an artist's depiction found in the monastery, one that she would often admire as she traveled from her quarters to the hanger where her armor was kept.



Living saint: She becomes what she is normally but a pale reflection of, a divine angel sent to cleans this world. In this form she becomes even faster and gains a holy powerlance, a spear that can slice through almost any material. While under this transformation she shines like a beacon of light as she descends upon her foe, engaging them in melee combat proper as she aims to drive the lance through their heart.


phylactery

*the actual existence of the things described in these passages cannot be verified and is taken on faith.

Name: Franceska Bernholm

Alias: Fran

Race: Human/Mutant?

Sex: Female.

Class: Markman.

Equipment: Standard pistols, two on her hips, one in a shoulder mount. Knives, one in her boot, another in a sheath on her shoulder. One long range rifle, really just a glorified long tube with handles on it, and an old assault rifle. She carries only two magazines for the long range rifle, one on her, and one in the rifle. Also a small bag of rations.

Abilities: Her abilities are just her own stamina, strength and resilience, plus the mutated extra arms. While she is quite strong, she wasn't really stronger than any human can be. She has great stamina, but no more than unusual. Resilient, but not amazingly so. Fran can also rig up an extensive range of traps from most anything lying around, like the classic grenade and string trap, to the shotgun shell mine trap.

Fighting Style: She fights primarily at long range, preferring to remain hidden far far away, until she gets a chance to shoot. Whether it takes only a few minutes, hours or even days did not matter to her. Once she gets a sure shot, that is often all she needs. Should she find supplies, and has time to set up however, she could set up a kill zone in an area, utilizing her knowledge of making improvised traps. All that was left then, was to wait.

She takes care not to get caught in close quarters combat, but should she be caught in them regardless, she relies mostly on the assault rifle to shoot, while retreating somewhere else if her instincts tell her she should run. The knives and pistols are backup weapons, and thus would be used as such, though she is still proficient in their use.

Personality: She comes off as cold and calculating to mostly everyone, not above to using her own allies to further her own goals. Anything and everything was fair game, as long as she comes out ahead. Of course, all the war and death in her world had desensitized her to it, but it did not mean she was emotionless. She would tend to make jokes with anyone she felt close to, and use a slightly lighter tone of voice when talking to them. Dark humour was something Franceska enjoyed, seeing as the war torn world that she lived in had become something that was as natural as breathing to her.

The world of war that she lived in had taught her patience as well. Far stronger mutants than her, toting far bigger guns and armor than she could ever afford. She learned very quickly that the gung ho attitude only works if you were some sort of supermutant, or if you had a deathwish. Retreating from unwinnable fights quickly, and learning how to counter them was second nature to her.

Wish: She wishes for a place where she could sleep without keeping an eye open, a place where she could eat and not starve, a place where she could hang up her guns and not be worried about being killed and eaten alive.

Echo: A buried warehouse, that had contained a lot of pre war items. The stacks upon stacks of dusty tins filled with food, and those clothes that was a million times more comfortable than anything else she had ever seen.

Appearance:



Frenzy: Black smoke starts surrounding her once she is agitated enough to trigger a Frenzy, and her eyes' scleras turns pitch black. In this form, her spatial awareness and depth perception are boosted greatly. The black smoke surrounding her can turn into solid pellets and launched at extreme high speed in any direction she likes. Larger bullets has a lower rate of fire since more smoke needs to solidify first before being launched, but smaller bullets can be fired off in quick succession. She could also spread around the smoke in a larger area if she stops to concentrate.

Inventory: Phylactery.

Name: Marybelle

Alias: Marybelle?

Race: Dreamsheep

Sex: Female

Class: A sheep of dreams?

Equipment: Nothing really.

Abilities: She can and will eat bad dreams, slowly turning them to good ones, or at least making them disappear as she eats it. Of course this also enables her to physically enter dreams and walk through them to another dream. Mary tends to keep to one dream to exit and enter, considering entering someone's dreams and exiting through someone else's dream often places her at that someone's location, instead of the previous dreamer. It confuses her, so she tends to just keep to one dream to exit and enter.
If someone wakes up while she's in their dream, she pops out immediately at their location, so she doesn't like entering dreams longer than she needs to, fearing that she will pop out somewhere she was unfamiliar with. Because of their nature, dream sheeps are often mistaken to be the bringer of bad dreams, especially considering people tend to wake up in the middle of a really bad dream, the equivalent to high class dining for dream sheeps. Thus, most people familiar, or even those not familiar with them, would invariably try to chase them away whenever they see her.
She can fly as well. If she concentrates hard enough, she can fly about as fast as she could run.

Fighting Style: She can't fight. She can break down a solid wooden wall if she rams it hard enough, but broken walls in a wooden house would really be the only danger she would pose as she hastily tries to run away.

Personality: She really doesn't do much but float around with her head up in the cloud most of the time, similar to her diet. Mary isn't burdened by anything, nor was she really worried about anything, thus she was cheerful most of the time. The rest of the time would be her being overtly happy with eating someone's bad dreams, or just sleeping anywhere she could curl up and be warm. As a dream sheep, this meant she was not attached to any one location. Usually this meant she would always be found only in one location full of people, like a village or a town. Due to her being what she was, she was usually as lazy as they come, preferring to float around and eat, though she did like the occasional chat with people. At least, people who weren't actively trying to beat her.

Bio: She followed a person who had a lot of bad dreams. It was kinda sad to see someone not getting enough sleep from all the nightmare he was having, so Mary thought she could eat all of it and make him happy again. But she got lost after following him to a strange place. Now Mary is stuck in an odd place, and she couldn't find that man again.

Wish: There is a tournament?

Echo: None

Appearance:


Frenzy: None.

Inventory: None.

Name: Actaeon

Alias: The Apex Hunter

Race: Beast

Sex: Male

Class: Hunter

Equipment:

• Bow and Arrow: A homemade composite bow made of bones and sinew. Even the arrows are made of bones. It is very likely that he made this out of the bones of his prey. The arrow heads were dipped in poison that slowly causes paralysis.
• Belt: A leather belt that has many compartments to hold the items below.
• Smokebombs
• Spikes: These are made of sharpened bones. They appear like jax, but with sharpened points meant to stab the soles of feet.
• throwing knives: Useful when out of arrows, but lacks the same range as an arrow.
• Mini-Bombs: Creates small and controlled explosions for when arrows and throwing knives aren't enough.
• Trip Wires
• Bolas

Abilities: As a Noctis, Actaeon possesses extraordinary strength and speed as well as a deep resevoir of stamina. Also he has a superior sense of smell and hearing compared to humans, which makes it easier for him to track his prey. Of course as a hunter, he is able to also follow the tracks of his prey. His claws and teeth are sharper than most blades and can even shred metal into pieces. Even his fur could be compared to high grade armor that even tempered blades and bullets will have trouble damaging him.

Another notable trait though is his intelligence. He is able to reason and learn just like a human being. In fact, he may actually be much more intelligent than most humans. Complex concepts come to him fast and he is quick to think on the fly. His intelligence gave him the ability of creating weapons and gadgets so if he ever needs to quickly make a weapon he may be able to create a crude weapon from whatever he finds in his surroundings.

Actaeon is a master marksman and his main weapon of choice is his composite bow. He can shoot from far distances with deadly precision and strength, making it troublesome for foes that can only make use of close combat. However when the situation call for it, he will subsitute his bow and arrows for knives.

Even without his weapons and bag of tricks, it should not be thought that Actaeon is a slouch at hand-to-hand combat. He uses his speed and nimbleness for quick strikes and uses his claws to shred his opponents though even without his claws his blows feel like getting hit by a truck.

However his greatest strength is his innate understanding and use of qi, the life force of the world. With qi, he can erase his presence and go unnoticed as he sneaks around to observe his targets. Since all living beings have qi or some form of energy, he is able to feel the presence and know the exact locations of his targets unless they too can erase their presence.

In terms of combatical uses of qi, Actaeon can use it to harden objects to increase their durability and destructiveness. This is particularly useful when Actaeon decides to use his bow and arrows for combat so his arrows won't snap like twigs and pierce harder materials. This can also be applied to his body, hardening his flesh as to protect his body and withstand punishment.

Fighting Style: Actaeon's fighting style shifts depending on the situation. Preferably, he lays out various traps for his prey and fight them at a distance using his arrows. It is typical of him to use his surroundings to his advantage and often will erase his presence so that it is harder to pinpoint him. This too is a mind game; letting his foes get caught up in their emotions and paranoia and let them exhaust themselves until they are no longer able to fight and become easy pickings.

However, if Actaeon is ever forced into a situation where hand-to-hand combat was involved, he will fight though he is never the first to strike since that runs the risk of being countered by an opponent he's never faced before. Even though this is no longer a long distance fights, he will still use his bag of goodies to gain the upper hand, such as his smoke bombs and mini-bombs. Though even without his weapons, he is a capable combatant that utilizes quick and hard strikes while using his claws to shear through his foes.

Bio:
There is a reason why Noctis are known as the Dessert's Omens; whoever encounters a single Noctis will die a horrible death. You see, if a person locks eyes with a Noctis then that particular Noctis will not kill them immidiately. A Noctis will stalk its prey everyday at every moment, letting it run away from it and just when they think they've finally escaped its grasp it will be standing right there and then the cycle will begin all over again until its prey dies from exhaustion. Noctis do not need to do this; their physical abilities make them the top predators of the region. They just find it fun.
Then there came rumors of a Noctis wearing clothing and ornate items. No one believed the rumors and they paid the price. This Noctis acted different than the others of its species; it laid out traps for people to fall for and it seemed to understand what they were saying. Then the stories got crazier! Some claimed that the Noctis could talk, some said it could use martial arts, and some claimed they saw it hunt its own kind.
No matter what was false and what was true, there was one thing they all could agree on: that this beast, Actaeon, was the Apex Hunter.


Personality: Despite his gastly appearance, he is actually quite the intelligent gentleman and very well read. He is a surprisingly social creature though was an outcast of society because he was unlike the other Noctis and humans feared his species. He loathed his species for rejecting him and felt disconnected from the rest of the world as humans began to spread rumors about him being a violent, evil monster. All he ever wanted was companionship and to be understood.

Wish: To be loved.

Echo: The inside of a dark sandy tomb with many twisting pathways.

Appearance:

Frenzy: Actaeon's body will bulk up in size, drastically increasing his speed and strength beyond his limits. However what is more concerning is that his calm mind is overwhelmed by the natural ferral, violent nature that of a Noctis. Any reasoning with him in this form is impossible as the only thing going through his mind is to kill.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Redoul Duskfeather
Alias: The Drunken Warlock
Race: Elf
Sex: Male
Class: Warlock
Equipment:

Channelling Staff – a simple staff made of a dark, dull metal. Several small runes are etched into it and emit a feint green glow. More useful for bashing than anything, but it does amplify the energy that passes through it, making spellcasting and summoning much less taxing on his mana.

Flame Resistant Robes – His robes, although a bit filthy and scruffy looking, are enchanted to resist any kind of heat. This of course won’t shield his body from the sheer kinetic force of an explosion for example but it proves quite nifty when dealing with unruly imps.

Flask – filled with an unknown beverage, which he often sips from, yet it never seems to be empty. It doesn’t seem to give him any sort of power-ups or special effects.

Abilities:

Demonologist - Has an extensive knowledge on demons, demon culture, strengths, weaknesses, etc.

Summon Voidwalker – a Voidwalker is a type of demon whose body is mostly composed of dark matter and demonic energy. They are largely amorphous and take a lot of hits to disperse, but don’t deal a whole lot of damage. When summoned they do everything in their power to shield the one whose will they are bound to. Redoul’s bound voidwalker goes by the name of Thul’dok and spends most of his time by his master’s side. When dispersed however he needs about a day to reform and be able to be summoned again.

Summon Imp Swarm – Redoul summons up to five imps – small agile demons whose specialty is to aggravate and distract. They throw small but relatively potent fireballs that could give somebody unprotected a very nasty burn. Their bodies aren’t particularly resistant to damage however, making them relatively easy to kill. Imps are resummonable shortly after they are killed but it does take several minutes.

Rain of Fire – summons a rain of small fireballs like the ones used by imps in an area of about 5 meters in diameter for a duration of 30 seconds.

Shadow Bolt – a concentrated burst of demonic energy that causes wounds akin to burning that spread slowly over time. It causes similar decaying damage to other materials it hits. Very nasty if left unchecked, can be stopped by cutting out the affected area or pouring holy water over it. It takes most of his mana to cast so he rarely resorts to it as he is not the most accurate shot and risks wasting energy.

Fighting Style:

Redoul is not a very coordinated person and finds himself unable to rely on precise strikes like most other spellcasters would. As such, most of his fighting relies on his single area of effect spell and his summoned minions. His voidwalker Thul’dok does most of the close range combat and serves to keep his opponents at a safe distance, while his imps deal out damage and distraction.
When cornered, he will resort to using his staff as a blunt weapon and parrying tool but he is also much more likely to land a hit with a shadow bolt. The shadow bolt doesn’t necessarily guarantee him a victory but it does give you a nasty spreading wound to worry about.

Personality:
The man seems to be perpetually intoxicated, leading to him treating the rest of the world as some kind of joke that promises to have a great punchline but hasn’t gotten there yet. He is mostly a little bit oblivious to his surroundings. His speech, although a little bit slurred betrays a surprising amount of intelligence, but his tone oozes with mockery most of the time. He is generally very friendly and will happily take part in a nice conversation. He will laugh easily, at anything, even if it’s not meant to be funny, as long as he sees the logic in it.
If deprived of alcohol for a longer while he will seem sour, lethargic and even a hint angry. However he will still retain his tendency to laugh at situations only he finds amusing.

Bio:
Redoul was born to a young mage apprentice. She had fallen hopelessly in love with a local gigolo who didn’t care for her much, beyond extracting some coin and a night of pleasure out of her. His mother didn’t really do much raising as she was busy with her studies and pining after his father. He grew up mostly unattended, doing god knows what out in the streets, occasionally coming home to eat and excitedly tell his mother what stupid thing he’d done. He had inherited some of her magical talent but seeing her spend so much time writing mundane papers on the matters of the arcane gradually made him averse to becoming a mage as he grew. He was a bored teen however and as any bored teen does, he turned to the Dark Arts. Being a warlock seemed to suit his fancy and he developed an interest in Demonology. The first demon he ever summoned successfully was Thul’dok, who ended up acting as a babysitter a lot of the time.
One fateful day his land was attacked by a devastating army of undead, carrying with them a plague no healer or mage had ever seen before. The elves managed to fight them off and contain the threat but Redoul’s mother, mobilized to the ranks of the battle mages, perished. Her death hit him harder than he ever thought he could be hit and he began to drown his pain and anger in increasing amounts of alcohol. It turned from a coping mechanism into a habit and he got used to keeping his mind in a comfortable haze. Since then he’s taken to doing mercenary work and odd jobs here and there.

Wish: He wishes to undo the effects of the plague and bring back his mother.

Echo: A tranquil lake with a waterfall above it. The trees around it seem to be stuck in perpetual early autumn, the air is warm and carries a light sweet scent and the sky appears like it’s always sunrise.

Appearance:

Redoul is a relatively tall guy, more wiry than muscular, without a lot of mass on his body. His skin is the unhealthy kind of pale and he looks constantly tired. His face is otherwise quite handsome with a sharp jawline ending in a surprisingly well trimmed goatee, and generally pleasant features. His hair is very long, straw blond in colour and not very well kept. The upper layers of it are pulled back in a ponytail to keep it from getting in his eyes, but he inevitably misses a few strands at the front which makes it not very effective. His eyes are a striking green and emit a feint glow, obscuring any trace of pupils and iris. His ears are very long and end in a point, as elven ears tend to. His brows are long and very expressive.
Redoul carries himself with the grace of…well…a drunken man. He walks with a swing in his stride, has a tendency for wide and dramatic gestures and likes to lean against things when stationary. His lips are nearly always curved up in an absent minded smile.


(Old drawing so it's missing the facial hair. He does have it though.)

Frenzy:

Redoul’s body overloads with demonic energy, which spills out to the surrounding area, causing the same decaying effect as his shadow bolt ability. This usually doesn’t affect anyone standing nearby, unless they are touching him. This essentially means his body is fusing with a powerful demon. He grows up to four meters tall and a set of giant horns and wings sprout from his head and shoulder blades. In this state he is capable of flight and his strength is immensely increased.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Westley Stride

Alias: The Crimson Cavalier

Race: Resurrected Half-Elf

Sex: Male

Class: Wizard

Equipment:

• The Bloodstained Blade - A fancy name for an ordinary sword. The only thing that's special about it is that it's colored red. In the event of a melee-encounter, Stride will fall back onto using this weapon.
• The Xeno Staff - A summoning staff that allows the summon of one flying saucer minion, capable of shooting weak lasers at the opponent. There can only be one minion at a time, and they can be re-summoned when the existing one perishes.
• Golden Shower - Get your mind out of the gutter! This spell tome casts a ray of golden light at the opponent, and if they are hit, they take increased damage from any source that hits them for a short period of time.
• Life Drain - A staff that allows for decent damage off of other people and heals the caster, but is expensive to use in the Mana department.
• The Mana Flower + 3 Mana Potions - Simply put, the Mana Flower allows for the automatic consumption of Mana potions, and each potion restores the caster's mana to full. (A paragraph with Life Drain automatically costs at least a single potion, and everything else costs about half of one. Stride get's 4 full cycles of Mana per combat session, including all the potions.)

Abilities:

• Deathly Influence - Stride has seen his fate fall before him, and he has actually spoken to Death herself. Death had proclaimed she had a lot of money on Stride's accomplishments, and he should not disappoint her. As a result of Death's influence on Stride's life, he has gained a more resilient lock on his soul, and it will take a bit more to take his soul than the usual man.
• No Neck - Not really an ability, but Stride can separate his head from his torso by taking it off. This was due to Death's plea for Stride's resurrection, and the way he went out caused irreversible damage to his neck. Stride's head is near harmless when in a combat scenario, but his body still is an independent entity, and will act as if Stride's head was still on it's neck.

Fighting Style: Take advantage of what you believe in, and remember why you are here. Stride is overly cocky during a fight, and will often rush into a situation without thinking, probably due to the misdirection that because he knows Death itself, he is immortal and believes it as such. More often than not, Stride will start out every fight by summoning a minion, and then proceeding to debuff his opponent and finishing it off with a constant spray of Life Drain. If need be, Stride will use anything he can find for cover when confronted with an opponent that is massively taller than he is, but he will still go headstrong in attempting to kill his enemy.

Personality: Stride is cocky and arrogant for the majority of the time, and constantly shows a bitter resentment towards humans and elves. Anybody else is okay, but humans and elves are the worst in his mind. Stride will wait and listen when he has to, but it's quite often that he'll divert from an intended plan in pursuit of a greater reward, and this showed once when he defended the life of a humanoid spider when an Orc tried to kill it, and he got his head chopped off in the process. Granted that wasn't the plan, but still.

Bio:
Wish: He wants to honor Death by winning the tournament and achieving total immortality.

Echo: A tall tower in the middle of a large city, full of monsters. The tower where he met Yashar, and his life truly accelerated.

Appearance:

Frenzy: Stride's neck would begin to overflow with saliva, oddly refraining from soaking his clothes, and it would spread around the arena floor, eventually igniting into a blazing red fire. This fire is able to be manipulated by Stride freely, and while it is limited by how frequent the area is, it can be focused into a large blazing fireball of pure heat. Stride's clothes char off his body, barring the set of mage robes that he wears, and he announces that he is the Gatekeeper to Hell, and he is accepting new residents.

Inventory: Phylactery

Name: Lucian Dante

Alias: The Angel

Race: Vampire

Sex: Male

Class: Paladin

Equipment: Death Mask of Saint Belarius: A golden mask, sculpted artfully to display the serene expression of one of the founders of Dante's paladin order. He wears the mask in combination with his paladin's robes to shield himself from the sun.

Glaive Encarmine: Dante's sidearm, a heavy sword that a normal man would need two hands to even pick up. It is inscribed with Dante's personal heraldry, and is constructed specially to withstand Dante's strength. Its crimson blade is of special construction, and cuts through steel as easily as flesh.

Abilities: Ancient even among vampires, Dante has centuries of experience in battle. As such, he is a warrior that can be matched by only a rare few, and true to his fame, he has never been defeated in personal combat.

Given that he is an immortal vampire, he is imbued with superhuman strength, and vitality, and his life cannot be claimed by age or disease.

As a veteran of hundreds of military campaigns, Dante is a master strategist. Frequently given command of the Empire's entire military forces, he is as adept in planning warfare as he is in personally fighting in it.

Lastly, Dante is a renowned practitioner of holy magic, considered a master of the school by many. He combines the standard practices of divine magic with the inborn power of his vampiric blood to create an entirely unique magical style. This fusion of light and darkness gives him the strength he needs to smite his foes, as well as support his allies. His magic can be used to give himself arcane wings upon which he may take flight, shields to protect himself or his allies, scourge his enemies with blasts of holy white fire, or blast them apart with lances of divine lightning.

Fighting Style: Dante is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. His great size and vampiric strength are both used to his advantage, giving him the momentum of a locomotive as he charges his foes. Though his power is tremendous, he is far from unskilled, and can expertly strike the weak points of his foes with overwhelming force. To give himself the edge over a physically stronger or more numerous enemy, he wields divine magic to imbue himself with flight, protect himself, empower his comrades, or attack his foes at a range.

Personality: By most standards, Dante is a reserved and withdrawn fellow. He speaks little, though when he does so, his words are utterly profound. Personal glory matters little to the Angel, as he has been honored enough for several lifetimes over his many years. Quiet professionalism and dignity surround him, but he is not standoffish. Though to many he is a legendary and unapproachable figure, he cares strongly for those under his command, and is a calm and patient listener. Humility and composure are his hallmark traits, as his many years have brought him great wisdom and inner strength.

However, one should not mistake his reserved nature for submissiveness. Dante holds his honor and his values strongly and uncompromisingly, and woe befall those who threaten his faith, his king, or his country. He is not afraid to speak out against convention or authority when he knows he must. Though his vampiric nature is vicious and bestial, Dante keeps his darkest urges well-contained. Even in the heat of battle, Dante's fury is cold and tranquil; viciously rending his foes without undue malice or enjoyment. That is not to say that his inhuman instincts are easily ignored, as they press against his mind at all hours, and it is his supreme willpower that allows him to retain control.

Bio: Born a vampire, an unnatural and unholy creature that must feed on the lifeblood of the living to survive, Dante has been tormented since birth by his violent, bestial instincts. In his youth, he looked up to such heroic figures as the mighty soldiers of Aquilonia, his native province of the Eternal Empire. Disguising his true nature, he joined the Legion, hoping that its discipline would help him control his baser urges. This worked to a point, until a fateful battle against a demonic horde that nearly wiped out his entire regiment, leaving him the sole survivor. So embittered and enraged, he lost control to his blood-rage, and slaughtered what remained of the enemy host single-handedly. Though this feat promoted him to Commander in the Legion, he saw that he needed a better solution to keeping his darker nature under control.

He turned to faith, taking up the vows of the paladin and training in holy magic. Though his nature as an inherently evil creature corrupted his magic at first, he learned to adapt his divine magic to better accommodate his inhuman blood, and thus came away from it with a unique and powerful style. For hundreds of years Dante fought for the Empire, studying and training under many heroes and scholars, and earning countless honors and accolades. The Empire eventually learned of his vampirism, but so great was his service that he was awarded status as an honorary human. So grateful was he to the Empire for essentially granting him status equal to normal men, that he dedicated the rest of his life to them as a Lord-Commander, the highest rank attainable in the Empire's military.

Wish: Dante wishes to rid himself of his vampiric urges once and for all. Though over the centuries he has sustained himself by feeding on those condemned to death by the Empire's courts, the Beast of his immoral hunger presses at his mind constantly. So that he may become a perfect paragon of service to the Empire and to the Gods, he seeks after the same cure that had only been found by one vampire in history: the legendary Blood Dragon of eons past.

Echo: The Basilica of Martyrs, where Dante undertook his vows as a paladin, and spent long hours training in magic, learning the holy scriptures, meditating on the divine, and praying to the Gods. A tremendous and ornate church, the most famous aspect of the Basilica are the waterways that run through it like small streams; the iron in the building's structure colors the water blood red, which has given rise to the legend that every drop of blood shed for the Empire runs through the church.

Appearance: Dante is an implacable and awe-inspiring figure. A tremendous man that stands nearly seven feet high, he is never seen in public unless clad in ornate regalia. Such is the might of Dante's magic that he seems eternally cloaked in the light of his Iron Halo, and he is known to soar on angelic, ivory wings that ceaselessly bleed through their feathers. In private company, Dante wears simple robes of red and white, and keeps his face uncovered. His many years are clear in his features, as his long, fine hair has turned completely white, and the lines of centuries of warfare are etched into his face. Even so, he has an ethereal, otherworldly beauty with chiseled features, ivory skin, eyes like rubies and long, white fangs. Dante often adorns himself with writings of scripture, golden medallions, mementos of his fallen comrades, and other such trinkets, and displays his personal heraldry (a drop of blood framed by alabaster wings) on many of his belongings.

Frenzy: Dante becomes one with the Beast within him, and descends into a pitch-black inhuman rage. He flings his helmet, off, exposing his fangs as he seeks to drink the blood of his enemies. His vampiric nature comes to the fore of his magics, as holy light fails him and he uses both his own blood and the blood of his enemies to fuel his monstrous rampage; either imbuing himself with even further inhuman power, or viciously tearing his foes apart.

Inventory: Phylactery.