SomeSoldSoul

My Terrible Rival Saga

Yes, I went ahead and rolled it for you. I won't make this exception for anything ABOVE a 3, just so everyone knows.

Reroll Roll

Link this, in addition to your normal rolls.

EDIT: You could've just tried to DODGE!!!!! Lol. S'cool, though.

My Terrible Rival Saga

We're in a giant courtyard, there's plenty of room.

Also: Looks good, Saccharine. Welcome.

My Terrible Rival Saga

Hahah, you can scheme something up with me if you wanna.

Added Defense rules to the OOC Info section in the first post. Everyone be sure to check them out to avoid confusion when the thread starts getting underway.

My Terrible Rival Saga

Put up my third...eerily similar aren't they?

My Terrible Rival Saga [Character Sheets]

Ezekial Wolffe said Name: Ezekial Wolffe

Alias: "What do I need an alias for?"

Age: 14 (since he's a freshman and all.)

Class: Hunter: these are a group of beings that have taken the responsibility of protecting civilization from the wild and from within. They specialize in espionage and tracking, and are trained to be prepared (or just survive) for almost any situation. Basically, its like the assassin's class crossed with the explorer's class and the survivalist's class

Level: 1

Combat Mode: Energy Melee

Core Ability: Soul Manipulation: Ezekial has the uncanny ability to observe and attack the souls of others directly this means that his attacks would mostly ignore unspecialized armor, since the attack would be riding on the plane that the soul resides. However, the ability leaves him without armor protection as well, which is why he prefers not to bother with it most of the time.. This also allows him to weaponize his aura to the point where it could be visible to others who don't share his talent. As an added bonus, he can kill ghosts. Cooldown of two posts.

Weapon: Nothing but his own fists and aura. (could that change during the RP?)

Appearance: Ezekial seems just about as slightly-better-than-average as anyone could get. With slightly-higher-than-average height, slightly-larger-than-average build, even a slightly better than average house, he seems like just another slightly-more-fit-than-average guy. He wears Faded blue jeans, black sneakers, a black cotton jacket, and a white T-shirt. There are a few defining qualities that defines him as a main character, His silvery grey hair for instance. It makes him look much older than he actually is. His red eyes make him look like there's some sort of monster inside of him, and you never see his palms. He always covers them with fingerless gloves, even when its way too hot out.

History: Ezekial has been moving from home to home all his life with his only known living relative, his father. This man, who people only know as Faust, never liked to stay in one place for too long. Nobody evers sees much of his father either. Hos neighbors almost never see him come home from work, go grocery shopping, or even go to PTA meetings! (Then again, who bothers going to PTA meetings anyway?)

Despite this, Ezekial seemed to be allowed to live life normally. He went to school, hung out with friends, and raised his stats just like any other teen. Recently, he and his father have moved here, of all places. What could Mr. Faust possibly need to here, and what kind of crazy life would Ezekial be leading here?

Hit Points: 14
Stats:
Strength: 15 (+2)
Agility: 11
Intelligence: 9
Willpower: 13 (+1)
Vigor: 11
(Stat rolls are linked here.)

Skill name: Soul Vision
Level Obtained: 1
Skill Type: assistance
Skill element: Null
Effect: This ability allows the user to see the souls and auras of all living and nonliving things as a dim glowing, provided that there is no interferance. This includes invisible and ethereal enemies.

Skill Name: Soul Edge
Level Obtained: 5
Skill Type: offensive/defensive melee
Skill Element: Null
Effect: This ability allows the user to solidify his/her aura in to a weapon or shield. This will alsogive the user +3 strength and +2 vigor. However, for every use, the user sacrifices 5% of his/her hit-points, or 1 if the percentage is less than one.

Skill Name: Ethereal descent
Level Obtained: 10
Skill Type: offensive continuous
Skill Element: Null
Effect: This ability allows the user to gradually deplete their enemies' soul through a small burst of focused energy, which can either be fired or applied through melee combat. This gives the victim (-1) strength, agility, and vigor, adding on to itself for 5 posts before it wears off.

My Terrible Rival Saga [Character Sheets]

Name: Ŝ̢̢̼͓̹̞̣̣̦̫̈́͗͛̏̅̄̒̂͠T̜̹̯̻̹͍̦̺̜̣̏̈́̑͂͒͊͛͂̿͘R̨̙̪͈͔͍̩̺͕͂̈̌̌̅̿̆̈̒͜͝Í̺̞̠͓̩̬̫͔̤̙̎͛̓͐̈́͒̒̋͝N̡̢̧̳͇̝̹̭̿̓͋͋̇͐̋͒͊͜͜͝G̰̞̭̜̰̖̩̹̪͒̅̉̓͋̈̾̌̍̒ͅ ̡̻͇͖̘̖̻͉͉̃̅̎̃̽̈́̽̈́̚͜͝W̨̰̺͚͉͖͙͖̗̮̒̇͑͑̒̉̓̎͒̔A͉̜͈̪͉̝͇͈̼̝̾̅̈́̆̃̒͊͗̾̅Ş̥̝̮̜͕͎̤͓̭͒̈̿̓̆̋͋̑͘͠ ̢̛͕͙̜̹͚̰̺̰̮̌̈́̈́̉͗̂̕͝N̢̢͈̥̭̜̙̪͚̐̆̿͂̔̓̇͘̕͝ͅŐ̢͉̻̯̭͕͍̳͈͓͐͐͊̆̊̐̾̾͠Ţ̨̮̟͕̥̬̝̹̦̔͑̂͌̑̎̈́͝͠ ̛̛͍̘̮͇̬̫̝̳̯̖͗̊͗̒͊̌͋̂Ȑ̢̻̣̦̱̥̫̳̠̠͒̎̈̊̐̆̏͘̚E̡̢͍͈̤̥̹̲̘͑̏͗̑̆̿͒͗̃͘͜Ç̰̼͓̥̮̫̫̟͔̃̅͒̉̽͛͛̑̃̈Ǒ̙͖̳͙͙̺͎̰̫̗̋̂̐́͂̽͌̀͝G̡̢̨͖̱̘̭͓̖͖͑̈̔͌̓̎̏̽̕͝N̨͓̤̘̫̝̼̭̳̈́́̊͒̊͐̂͠͝ͅI͖͙̥͓̼͎̟̻̺̅̌̍̽̓́͛̃͜͝͝Z̡̤͍͈̪̻̙͈͎̣̈͒̄̾̓̈́̈́̎̕̕E̡̙̻̹̠̻̝̩̣͊͊́̂̆̑̾́́̕͜D̛̟̩̙̳͔̮͇͈̄̃̐͂͛̎̓̊̽͜ͅ ̜̗̺̻̼̤̫͎̝̻͗͆̔̌̿̓̒̓̈́͘Ą͚̻̩̝̻̻̼̭̈́̀̍̊̂͋͒̚̚̚ͅS͈̲͔̪̟̯̮̳͔̖̃̐̂̇̌͑̔̆͝͠ ͎̰͍̣͍̣̼̦͔̩̉̅̐͆͊̃̌͗̍̚V̟̠͇̻̹̘̞̪̳̽̀̈́̃̄̓͒̐̚̚ͅA͔̗̩̭͔̹̩̹͉͕͑̈́̊̈́̇͊͂͋͝͠L̪̮̥͔̱͍̲̯̘̣͗͊̑̀̏̾̔̔̓͠Ḭ̛̫̻̲̘̥͇̹́̏̇̄͐̋͋̓̌͜ͅD̛͚̟̯͔̯͔̞̝̜̅̓̅̿̊̈́̇̚͠ͅ

Alias: U̧̫̤̥̻͎͍͚͖̔͊̃̅̈͗̆̅͜͝͠N͚̤̬̣͚̘͉̙͈̦͆̈́̌́̅͂̿̏͋̀R̨͎̣͙͚̱͕̭̣̖͑͆͆́̍̈́̆̈̚͝Ę̢̮̭̪̱̟̣̥̗͋̆̄̏̿̊͋̕̚͠C͎̤͈̙̹̭̣̮͈͆̉̉̓̂̆̓̾̂͝ͅỞ̤̱̹̦͇̮͈͓̪̈́́̊̊͗͒͊͑ͅV̧͈͙͓͖͎͎̥̗̯͐̅͂̇̂̔̍̎̽̒E̝̥͈̰͉͍̝̩͙̍͑̋̐̉̓͆͌͗̍ͅR̨̛̭̰͕̤̺̮͕̫̳̽̊̈͂̈́́̆̆́Ą̢̹̗̙͚͖̪̠̼́̇̓̋̐͒́͠͝͝B̻̯͎̦̲͓̝̱̩̗̿̀̈́̑́̆̑̊̕͝L͔͉̱̟͍̝̜̖̜̔͗͑̉̀͆̈́͗̕͘͜Ĕ̢̛̱͖͚̤̣̰͖͇́̈́͋̉͐̕͝͝ͅ ̩̳̗̞̩͙̜̥͓͂̈̅͑̓̎̎̅͌͜͝Ǐ̤̘̝̲̗̪͚̫̘͂͐͒̔̀̑͠͠͝ͅŇ̢̨̹̟̜̗̥͙͚̃͌̒̀͂̄͊̿̂͜T̢̙̣̯̫̭̣̻̥̖̎̑̏̓̃̌͂̀̐̆Ę̢̙͎̣̯͈̣̹́͒̽͊̊̈́̈́̿̈́͌ͅR̨̢̘̥̤͎͍̪̩͚̀͌̓͊̄̋̄̀̂͗N̡̛͙̭͚̳̤̩͚̖̿͐̔̔̂̈́͒͆͝ͅA̡̧͚̜̹͎̥̮̜͓̾̃̅̆̒̀͛͊̓̕L̖̞̩̪̙̖̥̦͈̹͂̾̅̊̇̓͑̐̽͠ ̡̭̙͍̼̝͙̦̮̹̔̆̃̃̊̏̓̎́͝E̛̳̦̖̤̱̙̖̲̱͂͂̀͒̅̌̿̎͛͜R̢̛̫̥͖̳̥͙̰̮̳̆̋̒̏̽̂̒͛̕Ŗ̡̙̹͔͇̱̰̻̟̃̾̿̃́̄̌̊̕͠Ơ̧̡̛̱͉̼͕̬͖͙̋͌̀̏̎̐͠͠ͅŖ̤̮̪͎̭̼͈͍̺̾̓̌̀̒̓̋̾̓͝

Age: 13

Class: G̡̡̢̪͉͈̥̱͕̮͚̝͙̯̗͎̪̩̟͍̬̖͇̈͆͐̈̽̒̑̅̌̽̈́̍̀͊̎͗͒̓̈́̉͘̚͜͝͝l̢̦̘͓͓̮̞͇͈̦̝͙̝̲̫͈̝̱̹͚͍̆̋̈́̍͗̇̋̑͛͗̃͐̏͗͛͒̓̊̏̕͘͠ͅi̧̡̢̻͉͉̮͍̼̠͇̯̱͍̦̬͚̦̗̤̞̤͊̊̑̎̇̉́̿̀́̉̀͆̆̆̈́̔̄͘͘͘͝͝ͅt̡̡̠̱̯͚̥̠͚͕̲̩̫̫̱̘̱̤̺͍̣́̋͐̌̄̌̎̓̑͐͌͛͆͂̓͛̓̏̽̔͌̐̿ć̨̧̨̛̰͇̠͔̳͖̼̺̯̬̣͇͖͎͈̹̫̱̭͓̄͂́̒̽̓͒̌̀́̄̉̐̒̉̄͋̔̈̽̄ͅh̳̯̠̟͔̬̟̱̜̻͖̘̞̭̪̰̟͇̥͔̫̟̲̑͊̀̿͋̉̾̓̆͑̒̐̇͗̏̃͗͂̽̒̽̉͐k̢̨̧̛̟͖̱̙͙̘͉̗̹͎͎͈̮̜͎̦͎͍̆̆͛̋̏͋̆͛̒͌̑͆͋̀̋̈́̎̉̆̑͘͠n̢̧̧̨͕͈̖͉͚̼̩̝̯̫̫̖̬̲̰͎͐̔͛̍̉̍̉̐̉̅̑͋͂̀̏͒̀̋̐̕̕͝ͅͅͅǐ̢̧̛͍̬̮̝̙̝̫̠͚̹̦̳̺͙̯̼̣͍̖̓̇̊͗̏̾̋̌͗̽̊̑͆͋̇́̊̕͠͝͝g̡̨̡͖̟̱̙̩̰͓̼̤̬͍͖̖̗̪͍̞͙̏̽̒̔͌́̔́̄̐̄́̄̂̆͋͛͂̅́͜͜͝͠͠h̢̧̨̳͉̭͍̝͍̫̞̮̥̰̘̲̪͉̻̟̓̿̅͌̌̔͐̔͐̌͒̅̈́̓͆͆́̉̚̚͘͜͝͝ͅt̡̧̨̨̜̯̬̱͕̠̞̲̣͍̮͓̮͈̱̘͉̘͌͂̒́͛̌͌̇͑̋̿͑̀̋͛̔͑̓͘̕͝͠ͅ A GlitchKnight employs various unorthodox methods in dealing Physical type damage.

Combat Mode: Physical Melee

Core Ability: Ä̢̪̦͍̰̠͕̳̯͇̓̿̔͆͒̍̀̔͂N̡̺̼̹̖̟̭͉̖̲̐̊̑̅̀̔̃̉̅͘Ŏ͈̙̰̜̘̮̞̺̪̪͌̎̈́̽͐̆̈́̕͘M̢̢̡̧̖͍̻̳̼̦̌͒̃̈́̓̐͐̈́̊͒A̜͔͎͖̜͍͔̪̠͒̉͑̇̒̓͐͆͘͘ͅL̡͕͉̪̹̥̱̱͕̄̊̈́̀̊͗̈͛̔͌ͅỠ̼̫̦͇͓̗̞̫̲̍̂̍̆̿̿̋͜͝Ü̢̻̫͓͈̣̼̳͔̈́̆̒͋̊̏̄͊͜͝Ş̹͔̪̞͔͓̙̦̫̽̈́̈́̈́̽̓̌̈́̐̚ ̡̟̹̤̰̹̠̣̄͋́̇̎̿͋̎̒̿ͅͅÈ̝̩̤̞̼̺̜͇̣̌̓́̒̑͌̎͜͝͝Ṋ̙̗͔̲̥͇̼̗͂̓́͆̍͗̆͒̔͜͠T͖͈̫̪̹̮͓͔́͋̒͌̒̉̈͋̚͜͝ͅÍ̖̪͕̜̝̞̫̫̤͚̇̉̈́͛̈́͊̀̃͝T̢͈̤͎̗̳̯̘̩͎͆̀̀́̓̐͌̾͋̌Y̳̦̮̦̘͔͕͖̬̪̏̎͒̓̃̉̉͂͒͝ Ȩ̢̛͈̠̖͔͉̥̠̙̉̊̈́͂́͛̃́͝R̨̝̣̯̗̖͔͓̘̩̐̋͋̈́̀̔͒̏͠͝R̨̳̝̝̲̤͚͉̹̺̀́͂̽́͑́́̒̑Ơ̞͈̩̣̦̹͖̦̜͍͂̇̄͋̀͆̉͘͝R̡͙̱͎̥͉̠̤̀̄̽̎̄̆́̚͘͜͝ͅ. Existing in flux leaves this entity with a 50% chance for all actions made toward or by the character to fail.

Weapon: V̨̢̧̤̲͇̱͙̭̼̲̘͍̖̜̙̼̠̻̜̱̗̋͛̒͆̃̉́̍͒̓̃̀́͌̏͋̎̇̕̕͝͝͝͝ͅĄ̡͚̬̩͉̮͖̬̺̞̺̖͇̗̥͓̲̩̲͎̳̇́̽̒̊̈́̒́̾̏̓͊̈́̔̌͒̽̐͘̚̕̚͝͝Ḻ̡̨̧̨̨̡͍̙̩̝̱͕̻͔̤̝̣͍͇͚͔͉͌̓́̊͐͂̃́̒̌̓͌̐̂͆̊̏̾̕͘̕͜͝͝Ư̧̡̢̢͙̦͕̩͓̙̝̫̹͍̮̫͙̘̦͈̾̌̒̽̐̒̋̇́̏̏̅̔̉͛͘͝͝͝͝ͅȨ̜̪̣͈͎͉̮̱̗̫͍̠͉̭̱̜͎͉̗͂̈́̈̊̄̆̑̏͛̓́̓̍̇͐̃̀̋̈́͘͘̕͜ ̧̨̛̛̱̘̬̩̳̱̮̪̩͕͓̞͓͚͎̟͎̩͍̈́̏̈́̄͗͆̑̽̑̄͌̓̌̍͂̏̿͛̕͘͠͠A̢̨̧̳̲͈̠͍̬͕̟̙͙̭̭̳̗͔͉̲̫͔͌̋̔̏̃̑̀͌̾̓̅̉̈́̾͗͐̋͂̌͊̚͠͠Ṕ̢̢̢̟̞̪̝̘̜͈̺͎̖̣̯̬̗̪̖͉̃̄̎̾̍̑̒́́̾͌̓̒͑̏͌̊͒̽͊͝͝͠ͅͅP͙̫̠͔̗̰̝͈̭̞̬̞̞͓̗̺̦͉͈̯̰̭̓̈̊͑̍̍̊̃̌͌͑͊̀̔̋̈̓͐̏̀͋͘͝͠Ŗ̱͚̟͇͎̣̥̝͎͇͖̞̗͔͉͓͇̤̖̦̀͌́̓̆͒͋͌̑̽̾̒͗̓̽̆̉͐͛̚͜͠Ǫ̧̛̻̫̦͍̙̞͕̺͓̙̻̬̬͚͙̠͍͇̗͎̹̓̇̾̌͌̅͆̓͗̅̉̏͑̋̑̈́̉̓̈́͛͘P̧̢̧͎͕̮̱̮͔̼̠̼̱̜̙͕̜̱̯͍̣͓̖̫̊̍͐̇͊̂̾̉͒̔̀̓̀̀̉̐̌͑̿̕̕͠Ŗ̡̧͙̖͉͔̥̲͔͚̼̘̖̗̣͓̣̖̩͒́̉͌̋̿̍͂̅͆͊̄̍͑̔͐̿̕̕̕͜͝͝ͅÌ̱͙̙̩̗̦̞̜̩͓͕͍͕̝̟̺͖͆̏̃́͒̓̓̐̃͒̈́̔̉͑̍̒̈́̕͘͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅÃ̡͕͓̝͙̜͖̼͕̩͍̻̫̖̻̬͇͓̘̯̞͇̲̑́̅͋̽̄̈̐͒̄͑͗̉̀̈́̈́͂̒͋̕͝͠͝ͅT̨̧̨̗̹͇̗̟͍̹̞̟͚̩̦͍̝̠̪̝̳̗̓̐̈́̃̐̀͐̎̎͋̇̀̀̓͊̌͐́̒͜͠͠͝ͅI̢̡͖̹̣̫͚̗̜̳̪̣̞̩̖̩̘͈͈̩̙̐͊̔͊̈́͌̑̀͌́͛̆̅́̎̽̉́̌͂̕͜͠ͅƠ̡̛̭͖̯̮̦͈̦͎͖̳̥̬͉̻͕̹̰̜̩̪̼͌̈́́͛̉̋̋̉͂́́̐͌̔͒̎̈́͘͜͝͠ͅŇ̝̫̜͕̥͕͎̲͔̪̲̯͓̤͙̲͉͓͇̬̜͒̃̃́̍̃̂̃̂̏̀͆̂̆̂̓͗͑̒͠͝ͅ ̢̛̘̣̝͕̲̭̫̲̲̙̺͉͇͈͈̻̞̪͇͇̍͛̒͊̈́̈́͐́̊͆̆͒͂͆̃̽̾̈̐͘͝ͅͅN̛͖͖̹͎͕̩̳̲̮̯̘͈͚͕͖̠̼̖̹̣̼͂͋̈́̈̉̐̐̓̄͗͌̾̐͋͑̈̐́͊̓͘͘ͅĘ̯̤̖̩̪͔͎̳͎̺͎̤̭̲̪̩̳͍̣̩̹̀̅̂͆͒̾̀̿͆͒̀͛̈̀̐̀́̊̐͒͘͝͝ͅG̡̢̧̹̻̲͈̗̻̟͈̬͖̬̦̖̱̘̟͍͚͓̹̰̓͗͒͂̆͋̽̿͋́͆̆̄̈́̎̇̑̿̈́͆̿́A̡̢̛̬̤͈̯͓̬͙͙̟͎͖̣̗̣̳͍̱̮̺̒̋̈́͂͌̈̈́̍̉͋̈́̃̐̾̾̑̾̆̚͝͝͝T̨̡̤͖̠̩̠̼͎̝̖̠͔͙̝̪̤͔̪̰̦̳̙͓͌̍͗̑͆͌̐̆̍̋̃̑́̅̋̓̽̋̒͝͝͝Ȉ̢̨̦̦̮͉͓̝̦̦̺͎̞̦̱͉̞͕̻̘̓̓̾͛̈́͋̃̀͐̾̿̓́̂̏̔̃̾͛͊͜͜͠͠V̧̫̞̲̹̬̳̫̬̞̤͚͇̼͚̺̰̟͚̙͖̻̀͌̈́͑͑̈́̋̆̾͋̊͌͒͗̍̃̑͋̀̕̚͠͠E̡̧̡̢̛̲͍̜̬̻̺̣̤̰̣̤͓̜͙͍̜̩̒̒̎͊̂̍̇͂̐͊̈͗͆͐̋̌̑̚̚̕͝͝

Appearance:

Image

History: E̛̼̱̩̱͙̳̠̼͉̥̳͔̲̪̪͕̅̈̀̅̆̑̅̓̈́̋͌́̕̕͝.C̨̛̛̛̺̣̫̮͍̘͙̙͈̝̥̟̝͚͓͛̏̅̅̈̐̉̍̉̄̌̚͝.Ç̭̞͖͉͖̮̩̠̝̘̯͍̟̭̆͌̇̊͗́̈́̐̈́͗̾̀̐̓̕͜͠ ̧̧̡̯̰͙͉͖̫̱̤̪̦̙̝̓̅̈̎̾͌̍̃̐̂̐́͋̚͜͠͝M̛̬͓͙̮̬͇̪̞̙̟̫͉̣̯̙̭̆̀̃̉̊̌͋͆̂̎̓̈́͝͠͝E̢͚̰͉͈̮̩̫̱̙̜̠͓̝͚͌̌̌͒̄̔̊͐͗̓͊̃̌́̓̕͜M̧̧̛͎͎͍͈͎̲͔͍̯̝̫͖̞̈̈́̑̈́͑̍̿̊̂̅̃̄̉̌́ͅǪ̛̣̹͇̦̘̯̲̳͍̪̯͈̾́̈́̉̃́̏́̔̒̏̎̚͝͝ͅͅͅṞ̢̨̧̣͇̯̤͕̤̗͙̹̳͈̤̇̿̇̄͋͊̉̊͑͛̄́̀̒̕͠Ỳ͍͓̞̪̰̤̻͙͈̦̟͔̳̥͔͇͛̄̃̇̎͂̈̈͒͊̍̈́̃͝͠ ̧̧̘̬͉̜̣͚͔͔̬̱͎̭͉͌͒̈́́̒̾͂̐̀̒̆̊̿̑͐͝ͅS̨̬͓̲̦͓̝̳̮̦̤͎̙̔̈́̓͛̇͂̏̋́͒̂̌̚̕͝͝ͅͅͅT̢̩̹̹̦̩̜͉͚̟̟̞͍̰̖̽̒̊͂͌̑͒́̋̓͐̑̚̕͜͝͝Ǫ̧̛̛͈̪̣̘̻̹͙͈̼̮͔̼̭̾̍̀͋̾̽͗̾͐̔͘̕͝͝ͅṚ̨̧̣̪̥͍̼͔̫̣̬͓̟̳͔͐̆̉̀̃͒̒̊͆̈͛́̈̍̀͋A̡̢̮̝̼͓͖͕̱̥͍̹͖͙̫͙͑̔̈̃̍̋̓́̂̆̊̃̋̽̀̿Ģ͉̺̙̝͈̪̯̖͙͉̮̯͙̣̐͐͋̊͗̎͛͋̿͊̽̒̕̚̕͜͝Ë̡͉̠̙̰̠̦̱͔̦̫̳̗̦̬͔́̈̏̌͗̋͆́̓̿̀͂͋̉̌̚ ̢̢̭̠̗͔͓͍̙̱̦̻̫̪̪̤͛͐͑̈́͛̄̇̆̌̌̄͆̈́̆̕͝L̪̞͙̝͇̗̹̦͇̦͇͉͎̲̭͑̇͊̒̿̄͂̀̍̀̿̏̊̒͗͘͜Í̧̹̥̤̖͈̗͈͈̯̪͉̪̫̣͉́͒̀̏̍̉͂̓͌̒͊̕̕͠͝Ḿ̛̬͕̖̗̲̻̯̻̻̱͔͈̗̤͆̒̃̉̈͂̓̇͋̅̀̉̚͜͝ͅĮ̡̡̤̲̬̬͎͍̯̼͇͕̗͉͊̉͂̈͗͐͋̀̇̉̊̊̋̋͘̕ͅT̡̛̹̫̠̱̲̦͔̥̹̪̫̟͎̦̺͋̉̐̏̊͂̋̀́͐̓͊̎̓͘ ̡̛͇̻̯̭̞̯̜̺̱̙̖͇̠̖̔͒̈́̅̓̇̑̌͛͛̉̊͊̌͌͜Ȩ͇̭̹̟̯͙̣̮̳̟͚͔̥̤̌̆́̒͛̌͗̆̔̍͌́̅͒͘͜͝X̢̣̮̩̞̹̩͕̲͍̮̫̩̤̥̲͐̆̑̑̾̅͗́̅̈́̓̐́͘̕͝Ç̧̧̧̗̤̱̣̜̭̱̯̲͈̰̱͑̄́́̀̀̌̎͂́͂̈͐̕̕͠E̛̻͖͇͕͖̼̗̭̫̞̮͚̹͎͛̉̋͊͆̓̏̉̎̏͆͂͆̽̚͜͜E̢͇͈̦͎̪͍̹͍͍͙̭̘̼̥̰̾̃̅̇̏̊͒̒̒̐́̑́͑̕͘D̢̹͉̳̻̗̪̳̜̗͙͉̜̪͚͒̿͂͗̈́̋͒̑͗̾̑͘̚̕͜͝͝Ȩ̛̗͙̙̱̟̖̙͕̣̖̖͉̭̬̗̊͒̀͛͋̐͌̑̌͂̈́͊̅̚͝Ḑ̤̱͚͈̲̭̱̦̱͓͉̱̦̾͋̑̄̌̂̑͛̈͂̆̑́͘̚͜͝ͅ

Catch Phrase: D̥͎̫̟̜̟̞̬͉̯̝̠̠̞̺̗̆͑͌̆̑̀̃͛̇̈́͆̑͆̂̕͘E̢̡̛̞̥̻̮̜̘̹͔̼̪͓͚̠͐̈́̾͛̈́̈́̔́̄̿͛́̓̋͜͝F̡̛̛̙̣͍͕̤̹͍̞̺͇͍̤͓̱̋̍͗͌̍͆̎̈́̈́̏͐̕͠͝ͅR̨̛̫̫͈̬̘̙͓̟̱̻͍̣̝͉̲̍̍͆̋̂́̈́̐̓̿̀͂̀̈́͝Ả͉̪̲͓͙͎̤̟̠͕̳̬̠͉͓͌̒̄̈́͋̄̀͒̎̽̌̓̀̚̚͜G̛̪̞͇̲͙̝̘͇̭͍͓̲͚̩͐̔̄͂͊̀̄̔̽̾̔̌̇̓̕͜͜M̧̨̢̼̞͇̼͙̳̣͎͍̬̘͓̜̔̅͂͒̂͗̅̃́̊͌̋͑̄͗͌Ę̢̡̦̗͙̰͚̱̪͓͉͚̙̤̏̍̈̑̍̒́̌̃͊̎̍͐͌̕͝ͅŇ̛̰̫̲͇̹̘̘̬͚͇̼̺̲̟͕͕̈́̆̽̈́̃́̀̂̾̉͌̍̕Ţ̨̡̛̼̺̲̯̙̟͚̤̱̘͖͇̒͛̐̒̐͐̓̿͒̃͑̓̏̕͜͝À̡̛̮̯͚͔̹̫̫̘̪̠̲̤͕́̓̊͑͐̔̇̽̓͆̂͘̕͘ͅͅŢ̬̬̤̦̫͇̱̟̙̤͚̜̩̱̋̌͌̒͂̓̀̄̂͑̄̏͌͐͒̚ͅI̢̲̖̞͕͖͚̗͈̯̲̦͍͉͊̓̅̾̄͊̽̓͒͋̉̈͒́̑̚͜ͅȎ̡̡̗̞̳̤̦̼͓͍̤͖̯̻̦̰̀̾̽̓̌͌̓̊̓̿͆̆̇͘͝N̛̺̯̩͎̮̱̝̘͕̦̙̗̬̬͚͉͋̍̃͂̅̌̓̾̈́̓́͋̚̚͠ ̳̮͙̩̞͔̮͙̩̫̭̟̳̹̟͉̆̓̈́̀͆͐͆̅̉͂̋͛͘̚̚͝P̨̰̮͓̜̫͔̜͚̺̹͎͎̭̯̄͌̊̊̐̈́̓̇̿̔̃̇̓̕͘͜͠R͓̘̻̻͎̙̳͎͙̱͍̼̣͚͔̈́͌͑̿͐̽̇̍̈́̔͆̍͋̿̕͝ͅO̦̝͉̠͉̼͇̘̺̟̺̭̣̣̫̘̒͛͗̀̑̄̾̂͆͋́̃͘͘͝͝Ç̡̥͚̺̪̥̺͓̺̣̩̱̤̳̗̂̓͐̉̇͗̒̍̔̅̑̀̓̊͌̕E̦͇̝̜͍͔͍̣̝̺̙̭̣̘͗̓̐̎̒͑̿̌̀͆̃͐̈́̚̚͝ͅͅŞ̞̖̦̘͕͓̬̰̹͙̫̠͚̣̥͒̃̍̃̏͒̐͆͒̏̔̈̅̃̐͘Ś̡͎͔̻͕͕̹̣̮̤̰̱͉̜̻̖͂̄͂̎̊̄̈́̓̎̂̾͌̅̕͠ ̖̳̰̫̮̙̹͉̪̹̹̫͇̳̪̱̄͆͊̾̿̉̓͂͋̃͛̎̉̄̀͝Ẅ̧̨̧̛̰̩̳̟̜̪͓̯̘̦́̌̈́͌̄̋̌͗̈́͌͘͘͜͜͝͝͝ͅI̛̱̣͚͉̳̦͎̠̟̯͔̞͇̠͇͊͒̓͐̍̀͒̉̓̌̋̑̐̽̕ͅL̢̛̜̻̬͈͉̦̩̱͎̹͈̱̥̙̩̿͒͐͋͑͛̋̀̌̎͒̍̐̚͝Ļ̙͕̤͓̜͎̜̖̟͉̥͉̟̲̤͊͊̀̅̌͂̈́̍̌̋̈̈́̓̚̕̚ ̡̛͎̘̰͚͕̹̦̻̰̤̱̗̥̮͌͛͂̌̾̄̅̓̓̕͘̕͝͝͝ͅB̪͕͇͈̦̝̺͍͓͖̠̭͕͉̈́͋͒̏͗̔̈́͒͛͆̋̍͆̕̚͜͝ͅÊ͈͙̖͚̭̥̲̘̱͔͙̪̪͇͈͔̒̿͐̓͌̐̀̈̏͗̏́͛͒͘Ģ̛̛̮̟̭͚̱̦̼͙̙͈͚͔͖̜̠̒̍̓̊͒͑͆̊̂̊̈́͝͝͝Ȋ̢̧̝̟̫͇̗̺̹̹̼͇̤̥̝̆́͊͊̈́́̓͆̂̈́̈́̈́̃̚̚͜N̡̛̛̘̫͍͖̖̥̱̦̫͓̗̪̱̹̓̆͛͑́̍̽̑͛̋̇͑̓̾͜ ̡̧̰͙̦͇̺͖̤͙̳̦͚̲̪̮͗̒̀̑̀́̇̃̊̆̈́͐́͛͝͝S̨̢̨̟̰̫͕̙͉̺͕̼̺͍̯̤͑̉͂̋͂̅̊́̐̿́̃̍̈́̕͠H̨̧͉̟͈̣͇͔͚̠͙͖̘̜̺̑̾̋͑͋̋̀̓͑̓̿̈́̚̕͘͝ͅǪ͙̟̺͕̪̳͈͓̩̺̳̺̙͈̼̑̿̀̉͌̅̓̃̓̋̈͐̃͛̕͠R̨̧̡̞͍͇̘̹̺̻͖̼̯̰̲̊̾͐͆̄͆̂͗̄́̆̄͆̚͘͜͝T̡̗̱̯̫̬̱̭̻̯͓̫̲̩̼̈̍̓̐̌̈̈͑̒̆̓̒̏̽̚͜͠Ḻ͈̥̪̜̞̭̺̹̫̥̖̯͙̖̙͛̈̔̽͒̓̈́͒̏͋̒̀̾̀̕͝Y̢̨̝̝̯͎̭̱̺̙̠̪̟̰͚͑̍͐̔͑̏͑́̆̈́̓̌̽͆̚͜͝

Theme:

Video

Battle Theme:

Video

Stats

Stats: Stat Roll
HP Roll
HP: 11
Strength: 13 (+1)
Agility: 9
Intelligence: 8 (-1)
Willpower: 7 (-1)
Vigor: 13 (+1)

Skills

Skill Name: [G̛̰̥͈̩͉̰̳̮̜̼̖̺̗͚̮̠͂̄̔̓͂͛͒̍͌̊̑̈̕͠͝Ę̛͎̞̬̪͉̯̺͇̥̠̣̘̼̣̬͒̇͂͒̆̅͑͊͛̈̆̓̄͘͝Ņ̧̠̹͎̥̘͙̤̦͙̰̹̪̘͚̈́͑̔͌̈́̈́̔͛̀͆̎̎̋̈́͛Õ̧̨̧̲̦͚͕͍͙̞̥̭̠̻͒̈́͆̈̂̀̌̋̄̑̆̽͒͐͜͜͠C̡̛͍͔̣̰̳͉͓̣̪̬̱̹̰͙͖͆́̉́̅̄̍̉̑͛̑̎͆͘̚I̧̛̙̥̬͎̗͙̘͇͖̼̮͓̺̤̔̍͗̋͂́̔̈́̄͌́͒̋̚͜͝Ḑ̛̜͙̠͖͎̹̞̫̝̭̮̹͙̣̑̈́͒̿̀͊͗̎̇̓̉̿̕͝͝ͅĘ̧͎̪̜̖̦͓̣̞̼͓̻̠̣͂̾̈́͌́̏̓̎̀̈͋̄̄̓̄͘͜ ̝̯̣͙̤̣̯͕̳̮̟̱͚̩͕͍́͆̉͌̇́̔̎̃̓̉͛͒̚͘͝Ç̡̢̨͍̮̺̹͓̫̜̠̥̯̳͐͗̆̉́̀͆̿̔͆̽͊͆̉͗͌ͅƯ̧̗̦̥̜̠̱̻̜͉̩̠̰̣̈̇́̈͑̔̉̍̀͂̇̏̅̍͘͜ͅT̡̡̛̼̠̖̱̱̻̭̬͚̥̬̯̯͇̓̎͌̽̆̽͊̒̓̒̿͂́̾͝T̡̪͍̘͔̯̩̗̫̰͓͈̣̫̜̖͌̈́̎̽̀̿̌͒͊͛͊̅͆͗͘̕E̢̺͍͚̞̖̩̼̜̱͈͖̖͖̰̍̅̃͂̈̈́͗̊̓͒̋̈́̿̓̚͜͠Ŗ̢̡͉͙͚̟̙̝͇͈̲̤̗̬̈̂̀̀͒̿̀̈́̿̑̆̆̈́̚̕͠ͅ

Level Obtained: 1

Damage Type: Physical Melee

Element Type: Dark

Effect: Focusing their inherent abilities, the G̢̟̥̟̬̰͔͖̦̯̘̱̫͇̪͋̐̏͐̌̈́̄͆̈́̈́̎̆̈̕̚̚͜l̳͓̪̖̟̝̗͇̙̼̫͕̬͉̱̑̏̃͗͑͑̇̽̂͒̅̒̾͐̕͝ͅi̩͖̹͔̝͇̤͇̠͚̟̼͉͕̔͐̐͊̄̅̃̾͐͆͑̌̽̏͘̕ͅͅt̡̡̗͕̖͎̬̘̘͈̟͓̦̘̤͛̇̐͑̀͛͆́̔̿̉̀̋̚̕͘͜c̨̲̻͈̫̼̫̯̣̩̮͖̥̺̖͔̃̍͋̓͗͊̌̄̽̋̄̑̇́̈͝h̢̼̩̪̰͕̼͇̖͎̙̜̻̣͉͉͌̑̆̈́̒̄̒̎͂̊͐̊̑͠͠͝K̡̨͔̠̬͎̲̠̦̺̫̜̲̤̼͋́͂̓̇̈́͌͐͛͒̽͊͗̂̚͜͝n̛̮̠̭͉̹͚̥̼͇̭͖͕̮̖̠̄̽̈́̎̍̈͐̓̉̔͌̃̉̈́̚͜ḯ̧̨̧̢̧̖͍͇̖̪̮̼͎͈̫̾͗̉͛̿͒̊̊̒̓͐͑̂̓͐͜g̢͍͍̙̳̭͇̩̜͓̺̲̞̃̏͒̏͛̎̊̄̌̊͋̈́̈̚͘͘͜ͅͅȟ̛̬͚̖͙̗̭̟̞̘͚̬̹͈̖͉̘́͛͊͑́͌̽̃͒͘̚̕͝͝t̨̢̯͖̳͕̗̮̗̣̮̲̬̠͉̹͗͒͆͆͐̄͒̔̔͐͆̆̽͘͠͠ launches an assault on (up to) three enemies. The first enemy takes 1/3rd of the attack roll, the second takes 2/3rds and the last enemy takes the full amount of damage. (assuming that no successful defense roll is made) This skill has a cooldown of three turns.

Hi, Spam.

Seems mighty glamorous around here.

My Terrible Rival Saga

Hahah, I'm fine with that.

Need someone for TIm to fight. . .

My Terrible Rival Saga

IC is up. As said earlier, I'd prefer to have the sparring thing set up before anyone else posts. Got anyone in mind?

My Terrible Rival Saga

Start-Up

[I am a ghost.] [I am free.]

Welcome! Please enter your Observer number below.

[3 3 2 3]

Observer Routine 3323 initiated.

. . .

WARNING! Current Save Data exhibits signs of corruption and may be unsafe to load!

Close Program?

[Yes.] [Force Initialization]

Obtaining authorization. . .

Scanning Memory Nexus. . .

Select earlier Save Data?

[Yes] [No]

Select Save Data slot:

[1] [2] [3]

Load Save Data slot 3?

[Yes] [No]

Loading Save Data "Day1" under Observer Routine 3323. This may take a moment...

Plane of Emptiness (Subconscious Space)
No discernible time.

Suddenly, they appeared. Lacerations of incorporeal reality; long cuts that left jagged wounds on the flesh of a chaotic realm.
They were thousands of minds apart, separated by an ocean of pulsing static. For a time, they stared at one another; extending their greetings and formalities, as was their custom. Then, one by one, they would speak their piece. Their voices cut into the natural, screeching furor of the realm, demanding silence as they folded and bent the ethereal data around them. While their voices were different, in gender and pitch, they all shared a bored, monotonous rhythm and slow, void-entity vernacular.

"Well, we have to select a coherent point in the story to introduce the narrative."

"I am not certain that there IS a coherent point in this particular narrative."

"Of course there is. We, as a staging device, provide a certain ominous tone of mystery in the beginning of a story. As such, upon viewing us, one would be lead to erroneously assume that this world is being guided, by us, from afar. This alone should suffice in creating some form of consistency in a story."

"That doesn't make any sense, not to mention your bizarre suggestion in making us the first point of focus in what is supposed to be a coherent narrative. For us to be an effective staging device there would have to be a point of view that encompasses all of the characters, ensuring that they are somehow viewing this or no characters around at all; practically detached from the overall story. Making us, essentially, nothing more than a novelty to introduce how bizarre the realms are; not only this realm, but by association the realms we view at the point of our introduction."

"I agree. It sounds a bit forced."

"Perhaps we should take a break for a moment?"

Yet, it was by the nature of their divided plane that they could communicate so effortlessly, despite their differentiation in origin and levels of cosmic awareness. These beings were nebulous, yet dark in contrast to their shifting white and gray surroundings, with no discernible features to them; save for the fact that they were the scattering of ink left on a pristine page. Observers, they had come to call themselves; ancient they were, but with memories that were ever-fleeting. So nebulous were they, these sapient tears in reality, that they would appear and disappear at random; sometimes appearing close to their strange cousins, or in another uncharted section of unchartable Emptiness.

Peace stopped in to listen to them from time to time, as they plotted their course; a being so miniscule in the tapestry of their unending discussion that they had never once paused their meetings when she passed by. Today, she was on her way to school; trudging through the snowy static of Sub-space in hopes of making it to her classes on time. With each step she took away from the center, the Observers grew more quiet in the distance; and the white noise of subconscious human thought drifted down from above and up from below, whispering in her the back of her mind. She stopped and extended her hands, pressing her fingers between the whispering syllables and slowly spread them apart. As she did, with some effort, her own rift began to form.

It appeared in a close parallel to the nebulous Observers, a multi-hued cut in reality that bled forth bits and pieces of another place and time. She leaned forward, peering through the flowing barrier that separated herself from the world she knew best. Laughter and undecipherable chatter filtered through, accompanied by a quick swelling of the laceration. The tear surged forward, wrapping its self around Peace as she opened her mouth to gasp; before she had a chance to brace herself, it pulled her into the long drop toward the corporeal plane. Managing to snap her mouth shut as she passed through the water-like layer, she held her breath through the entire trek; through each pulse of maddening light and intermittent surges of darkness, until she was flung from the Limbo Tunnel and into her world.

Corporeal Reality (Bridge City High, Front Entrance)
September 15th, 20xx.
8:22 AM

She hit the ground with a hard thud and all the air rushed from her lungs. Students shuffled by, some even stepping over her as she lie there on her back, eyes open but without focus. For a moment, Peace watched as coherent shapes with no coherent meaning moved over and around her; listened to the senseless noise of the first day of school with her head ringing out the blistering bassline. A groan escaped her, through clenched teeth, and she pulled herself up; drawing in air with all the charm of an asthma attack. Readjusting to unexpected transitions into corporeal reality was difficult and most often came accompanied with an overwhelming sense of vertigo. She stayed there, for a moment, scooting herself against the brick wall of the school and closed her eyes; waiting for the sensation to pass. Her stomach did flips and her heart thudded steadily against her ribcage.

Through the wall she could feel the reverberations of some kind of sound system, amplifying a momentary blare before there was the soft clearing of a throat.
"Your attention," a man said in a tone smooth enough to make crushed velvet blush, "principal Rizzo is about to begin his speech."

Murmurs came over the wall, more indistinguishable chatter under the surface of passing babble and a cacophony of feet against concrete. Peace rose, against the wall, placing her palms against firmly against the coarse brickwork as she finally managed to stand up completely straight.

"Thank you very much."

This voice was sterner and spoke with vigor, accompanied by very proper enunciation. Peace took her place, filling a gap left in the crowd and matching the pace of the person in front of her as they came to the front entrance's high arch. For the first time, the beauty of the day struck her. The Sun lingered just above the horizon in the distance, casting rays onto the glinting bridge and tossing flares of diamond-shaped light to play on the shifting surface of the lazy river that cut through the center of town; the sky cast in the bleeding yellow-indigo of a new morning, though it was hardly visible behind the school's bulk. Slight winds licked at the air, carrying the crisp chill of autumn across her flesh and across the grass growing on the other side of the arch.

She was pushed, in a polite kind of way, by unseen hands, through the arch and then bothered no more as other students shuffled past, broke into groups or found a place they could be relatively unmolested by the crowd. Peace simply stood her ground, just inside the courtyard of the high school; probably still a bit in the way, for folk trying to squeeze away from the crowd.

The man standing on the makeshift stage was nearly as broad as he was tall, wearing a pinstripe suit and glaringly red tie that he absently adjusted as the student's turned their attention to him. His hair shifted and danced in the breeze, white as snow and nearly reaching down to the man's feet. He had a jovial smile on his face, dark eyes glinting as he stared out over the crowd.

"I am principal Drydest Rizzo and what I am about to say is mostly for the freshmen, so the rest of you can go on to classes if you'd like." He waited for a moment, massive hands adjusting the microphone all the while. Students moved and shifted, the upperclassmen disappearing, leaving behind a large gathering of freshmen; who were either staring up at Principal Rizzo or quietly talking amongst themselves. Once the others were gone, he slowly spread his arms wide; flashing white teeth to the crowd.

"Welcome to Bridge City High School," he thundered out, made louder by the speakers, "as you know, we are contending, this year, as we have over the last several years, in the F.S.N system for our school district. As freshmen, your duty to the school and yourselves is to strive ever forward in your academic and martial studies. We, the faculty and student council, have high expectations for this year's underclass and have been awaiting your arrival anxiously." Rizzo's massive arms lowered quickly and he cast a quick glance at his gleaming, golden watch "You will be representing your class and this school in the upcoming battles, so we all expect you to do well. Now, classes are starting soon, but today is something of a special day for freshmen. Today we test your abilities. Break off into couples and we'll get this show on the road!"