You survived.

That is good.

Something within you is holding you together. You should cling to that, it will help you in your coming… journey.

I am War.

Not your Ares, Mars, Satan, or even Ragnarok.

I am War, and only War, and I come here to offer you a gift.

If you deny this gift, you will die. If you accept it, you may just live. You could live to hold power, to reign above those around you. You could achieve all that you wish, as long as you take this gift and do as I ask.

This task is a simple one. Fight. I care not for the cause you choose, or what aims you hold, so long as this battle wages on. That is all I ask of you. That is all I will ever ask of you. Your opponents may be arranged, you may find yourself in a fight among those you once knew. These are simply matters of coincidence and poor arrangements, they hold no weight to me. So go now, I won’t bother you any longer. When the time comes, you will be made aware.

Show me what you’ve got.

---

"Yes, hello? Can you hear me? Good. I’m glad you got this message, because it’s the only one I’ll be able to send for quite some time. Listen well.

As I record this, it is currently October 31st, 2010. If you’ve found this message, then you’re probably somewhere in Jericho City. I don’t know what all might change after this, but chances are it’s still happening.

It doesn’t look like it, but you’re in a warzone. There are people hidden in plain sight who may try to hurt you; they are incredibly dangerous. They are difficult to spot at first glance, but they all carry the same silver sword. If you spot someone near or in possession of one of these swords, run, and contact local authorities.

There is someone pulling the strings here. They all claim to be acting under someone’s control, everyone’s saying “War is forcing me! I don’t have a choice!” as if War is somehow a person. I won’t act like I understand it now, I only hope that you understand it more than I do. What matters is the safety of the city. For whatever reason, local officials refuse to evacuate. The incidents are too inconsistent for them to think anything of it. They think of these people as criminals, but they’re much more than that. There’s something going on here, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

My name is Herald Godrick, and if you find this message, get the hell out of this city, for your own good.”

---

Years have passed. Seven, to be exact, since the war began in Jericho City. Warriors brandishing simple silver swords transform into one-man weapons of mass destruction. These silver swords are what give them their power, each one branded to a specific individual, useless to anyone else. To a regular person, touching the sword causes an instantaneous and typically excruciating death. The Warriors claim to be held together by what they call a Saving Grace, something that protects them from the violent power of the swords. No one quite knows what they’re talking about, but it doesn’t quite matter. Anyone who spots one has permission to shoot on sight.

There is a task force dedicated to hunting these Warriors down, led by police chief Herald Godrick. They are an elite group, mostly ex-special operatives and CIA. They don’t use guns, for whatever reason, regular bullets can’t hit them. That said, evidence of their conflicts have shown that they can be killed, and the task force has succeeded in downing a few. The only problem is, for every one that gets taken down, someone else in the city is given a silver sword. The culprit, a self-proclaimed god known as War, is as elusive as he is dangerous. Not even those who claim to follow his orders have seen him in person.

The CWI has also collected reports of another supernatural force running amuck in the city. They’ve been seen only a select few times, bearing abilities and armaments just like Warriors but without the more noteworthy silver blades. Rumors suggest that Death itself is intervening in the chaos, but those rumors have continued to remain rumors.

Now, this tale recounts the lives of these Warriors, in their efforts to survive, or perhaps to kill, or perhaps to die.

This is War Never Won, an rp about our characters (Warriors) chosen by the “deity” War to fight for his amusement. If you have any questions about the story and/or how the plot will be handled, please ask those questions down below. I look forward to seeing what you all think.

Name: Aria Prince

Age: 20

Appearance:


Sensation: Sight

Warbrand: A typical Western longsword with a length of ninety centimeters and a width of twelve centimeters, brandishing a gold and royal blue hilt. It has the appearance of something a knight would wield, though it is not at all as it seems. Though her sword looks as it does, wielding it allows her to distort her image, though often unaware to the beholder. A strike that should have landed somehow misses, a swing you thought you dodged yet it cost you your arm. Though it seems small, it makes it very difficult to determine things such as the true attributes of her blade due to the ability to change the appearance of it's length.


Saving Grace: The Will to Live for Herself - It appears as a mark on the spot in between her shoulder blades on her back. It appears as three intertwining arrows, all pointing upward, though two of them begin to turn out to each side slightly.

Personality: Aria is a strong-willed young woman who always speaks resolutely. She is both courageous and determined, rarely answering to other’s requests unless she herself finds the act necessary. She is resolute in following her own morals regardless of more viable tactics being available should she consider them to be underhanded. Even if the situation were to seem life threatening, rejecting her morals is something that she will not do under normal circumstance, even if it should put her at a disadvantage. Aria is also loyal, independent, and reserved. She appears cold, though she is often suppressing her emotions to focus on her goals. However, part of this is due to her deep insecurities, having no real sense of self-worth and only feel fulfilled by working toward her own personal agenda.

History: Aria was a very polite and bright child, always doing well in school as well as doing what was told of her. However, she also lived with an alcoholic father, often verbally and physically abusive towards his daughter for the smallest of reasons and constantly forced her to help supply his drinking habit. Aria, of course, could not buy anything due to her age at the time and she would repeatedly have to steal in order to do this, even though she knew it was wrong. This made her father even angrier because it humiliated him and made him look bad in the eyes of the police. In the eyes of the father, the physical abuse was "teaching of manners". Every time she was physically abused, Aria forced a smile so her father wouldn't hate her. However, the father hated the smiling and considered his daughter abnormal and defective for it.
It was only several years later though, when Aria was a high school student, that her parents died in a murder incident. Though she never liked to speak of the manner, it did not make her sad. After all, it was merely a teaching of manners.

Other:

Standing at an above-average six feet, Tobias appears… hollow. Yes, that’s probably the right word for it. With the sunken eyes of an overworked man and a paling complexion, Tobias is the last person you want on the cover of your “healthy choices” magazine. Regardless, if you were to ask him he would claim there was nothing wrong. His figure is slim, but not fragile like a young tree, and his hair is always kept at the perfect length to both stay out of his face and also keep him from appearing ragged. Despite all his efforts, however, the first thing anyone ever notices about him is his sunken, pale eyes that give him a gaunt aura, and the iron supplements he’s been taking has done little to make them better.

Tobias tends to prefer dark, long-sleeved clothing and pants even during the heat of the summer. His skin is very sensitive and tends to burn far too quickly, so he’s taken to a strange, elegant wardrobe that, as usual, does little to assist his personality. The truth of the matter is that, for some reason beyond his knowledge, he would always be somewhat unnerving to the people surrounding him. He even tried to disguise it behind fortune and riches, with golden earrings and rings, but that just didn’t seem to help much either.
An ill-looking man in perfect health who can turn the room bleak on a joyous occasion.

SENSATION: Sound

WARBRAND:



Yes, in its usual form Tobias hasn’t found the heart to do anything "extra" with the metal. In fact, he’s so enamored with it that he doesn’t wrap the hilt or anything, meaning that by the end of a fight usual he’ll find his own blood on his palm from gripping it too hard. He keeps it in a simple dark sheath at his side until the time to fight once more, and he seems to have a decent technique albeit lacking instinct. The character “omega” sits as his symbol on its side, and even it is sheath the symbol remains open to the world, but he never explains why.

When it transforms, the blade itself becomes incredibly thin, deceptively thin enough that you can barely see it when its sharp edge is facing you while it also gains a few feet in length and a beautiful hilt with the guard in the same “omega” shape. A round, gleaming gem of sorts sits right where the hilt meets blade. And that, in truth, is where the danger comes from. The gem resonates to song, and it can even store that potential energy as it hears songs throughout a day. The more passionate the better, for when he swings the blade, the strongest sounds can cut straight through the air, rip people’s eardrums apart, or even just knock people off balance enough that he can deliver the final blow. For you see, the most passionate singers also share the most passionate screams, and Tobias’ Warbrand uses all of that sound frequency to cut straight through it, and its opponents as well.

SAVING GRACE:

Tobias nearly gave up on the world once, deeming it a cruel and unjust place that was devoid of any sort of happiness, and that was when he first heard a church choir around the corner from his affluent home. Voices singing loud, singing in joy and in sorrow, through laughter and tears. Those songs gripped him as child, and still resonate down deeply to his soul. He knows he must live on to keep hearing their voices, and he will keep fighting as long as those songs can keep playing.

As such, a treble clef is traced faintly on the back of his neck, and as he encroaches madness he often finds himself sitting on the steps outside that church once more.

HISTORY:

Tobias grew up literally eating off a silver spoon. He was the youngest of six children of the Ren estate, which was a lucrative title built up over the years as his father became quite the successful merchant. Named a duke (more as a title than anything else), Tobias’ father, Isaac, spent a lot of time busy with his work or chastising his children on their behaviours, assuring that they were demonstrating behaviour fit for aristocracy.

Thankfully for Tobias, being the youngest meant he was likely not inheriting anything, and so he was able to find some free time to wander his streets and his neighborhoods, though even then his appearance as the “Pale Boy” did little to help him make friends. When he was nine or ten, a boy from around the neighborhood and someone that his father had pushed Tobias to befriend had taken him and a gesture of good will he made (an offering of some cool marbles he’d collected) and tossed him into the mud outside his house. When the boy invited him over later as an “apology”; Tobias was met by a group of boys twice his size, and the rest is pretty easy to figure out.

It was this day that led him to the stairs of that church, that brought him to the first real song that he loved, and that drove him to pursue music with burning intensity.

His mother was pleased about this. She herself was a concert pianist, and she was overjoyed by the dedication he put towards learning the instrument. She had tried with many of her other children but they just didn’t seem to care the way he did. What she often loved was that he “was no prodigy for sure, but he continued to try and try again”.

Eventually, thanks to hours of dedication and a large check from his father, Tobias went off to school to study music professionally, with his father’s only caviat being that he picked up some kind of sport.

Somehow fencing became the go-to option.

He studied at a school in Jericho City, doing several degrees and studying several subjects into the theories of sound and music. He was so dedicated that colleagues and friends alike joked that a war could break out and he would find a way to keep working right into it.

In fact, that was literally what happened.

Catastrophe hit the university all at once it seemed, when the place was quickly evacuated when two figures caught in an incredibly lethal duel literally caught several people in their cross fire – and the fact they were shouting things like “burn this place down if we have to” didn’t do too much to make people worry less. And while the rest of the place was being evacuated, Tobias was in his usual corner of the library listening to a recording of an 18th-century composition while writing his paper on Reconstructing Beethovens Tonal structure when the two figures literally smashed through the library shelves.

And for a moment, he froze. Many feelings collided all at once when he heard the beautiful note that sung from the clash of steel, but also realized the actual potential destruction they could bring to the beautiful world of sound around him.

He was about to step in when another man pulled him away. The police force had appeared to intervene with minimal success as Tobias watched centuries of music going up in smoke.

A terrible image came to him: one of the library burning, of the church burning, of the beautiful songs turning to screams of despair as this spirit of anger and hate tore through a world that held so much beauty for him. No, he could not stand it. Tobias resisted the pull of the police, marching right back towards the doors of the library where he could hear the conflicting beauty of the song of battle wrapped in bloodlust.

He stopped at the door for a moment, as if to ask “what the hell are you planning to do? What’s the point of doing this for a song?”

And that was when he met War. The deity leaned against the doorway with a casual grin, as if he could see the thoughts that were swirling in Tobias’ mind down to that second.

The debate took a completely different turn when War pulled a silver blade from his side and threw it so it stuck into the ground directly at Tobias’ feet. For some reason, in that moment he remembered a boy he had offered to share marbles with, and the sounds they made clattering against the ground. The sound of battle was so intriguing, like the fruit from the tree of knowledge – forbidden yet tantalizing. He also thought about how there was always someone waiting to stomp out joy in all its forms – and if he was to keep those songs alive, he would have to stomp out those joy -stompers.

Tobias never envisioned himself as a warrior, never thought that battle could make a song in itself. He just knew that after he picked up that blade, studying music just didn’t seem to cut it like the strange, disjointed sound of two warriors locked in combat.

OTHER:

The armor is likely not actually his attire? But like, pictures are hard to find.

Art by len-yan on DeviantArt.