Name: Yama

Age: Unknown

Gender: Female(?)

Personality: Unknown

History: Unknown

Skills: Unknown

Other: Unknown

---

Desire: Unknown

Assiah: Unknown

Yetzirah: Unknown

Beriah: Unknown

---

Power: Nonstandard

Vitality: Nonstandard

Range: Nonstandard

Growth Potential: N/A

Name: Rainer Feit

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Personality: Something of a boring case. In conversation, Rainer is lax but not to the point of seeming overtly casual, serious but not to the point where one is constantly worried if he got the joke or not, and affable but not to the point that one would assume he’d be fun to have at a party. In other words, from the outside, Rainer is a wholly unremarkable individual who, were this a low-budget visual novel, would surely be an empty silhouette named “Classmate C”.

As one would expect from such a Classmate C, Rainer has a single defining character trait. This is his love of fantasy media, primarily novels but also regarding video games, movies, and the like. He devours them like a true bibliophile to a point that many would call respectable, until they realize that he has read a nonfiction book a total of twice in his life, both for school assignments. In fact, Rainer does not care for stories because he enjoys reading, but because he enjoys losing himself in their worlds.

In other words, the sort of chuunibyou who fantasizes about living in a fantasy novel, rather than the sort of chuunibyou who believes that he already exists in a fantasy novel. In truth, this actually stems from an acknowledgement and disdain of his own mundanity. He perfectly acknowledges that he is nothing more than Classmate C, perhaps moreso than anyone else, and dives into books and entertainment media as an escape. His free time is spent creating elaborate fantasy worlds in his head, and occasionally self-inserting him into them like the twat he is.

It’s honestly just sort of sad.

History: There's fairly little to say about Rainer’s life, as it has been fairly basic thus far. His parents, while not incredibly rich, are in the upper bracket among Riversfield residents, and so Rainer has lived a rather comfortable life. The only thing that distinguishes him from the faceless masses is the reputation he has carefully cultivated over the course of his life, that of a fucking nerd.

From the bookstore that is now on the verge of closing thanks to the fact that bookstores are a failing business in the modern day, he rose like a phoenix, devouring all manner of novel, from well-thought out multifaceted works, to power fantasy Chinese webnovels, to whatever the hell the Silmarillion is.

School life was fairly normal. While Rainer had always been a touch...eccentric, he had no huge shortage of friends, and managed to avoid becoming a total recluse as a result of restraining himself and acting like a normal human being, so there's not much to say there. At the beginning of the school year, he started classes at university. Currently, his major is undecided, as he’s trying to pick between the waste of money of a degree he’s interested in, and something with actual life prospects.

Skills:

Fantasy Novel God: A peak-level expert of the art, the bane of casual readers and an unparalleled tyrant-class existence within this particular realm. Knowledge of narrative tropes can be considered at the peak of possibility; as a result of this knowledge, he has become capable of coming up with short stories and building world mechanics on the fly to suit his useless daydreams.

Video Gaming Supplementary Skill Pack Version 6.0.1: A slew of pointless supplementary skills that are needed for the practice of video gaming, which he takes up on the side; these can be split into three main categories. First, the ability to recognize patterns and solve "puzzles" quickly, a form of high-speed information intake and analysis that lets one figure out how to solve a puzzle, beat a boss, or survive a danmaku in as little time as possible. Second, hand-eye coordination and above-average reflexes, physical capacities to outdo those who may have similar skill or talent. Third, patience and steadiness of mind.

Tyrant God's Claw Art: Mastery over a custom form of martial art designed after the adaptation of various fighting game and fantasy novel movements and positions to real life. A highly versatile style that can be adapted to any weapon or situation, priding itself on a constantly-shifting stance form to generate a constant, indefensible assault. As it has been entirely taken from fake shit, its usability is near zero, save for as a clever diversion or "looking cool".

Education: Nothing special, essentially what you'd expect from someone of his age. Not fluent in Japanese, but can speak it fairly competently because he’s a fucking weeb. Also covers general knowledge for someone his age, such as cooking okayish meals and driving without hitting mailboxes.

Other: -

---

Desire: “I want to live in a story.”

Assiah- Mimir's Eye: The capacity to view something as though it is part of a story. In other words, rather than allowing one to alter the world, it allows one to analyze the world. All things within range are "viewed", in addition to a disclosive sketch of their nature, not unlike the description you would read of a character in the instruction manual. For most things, this means what they are and their approximate age and history, though generic in nature. This is also capable of revealing the Assiah and Yetzirah, albeit without the underlying desire. This is obviously not omniscient, as the story cannot be spoiled ahead of time. For instance, it is impossible to know someone’s Beriah simply from seeing them; this must be done through either seeing the Beriah itself, or through learning the individual’s desire and analyzing them in order to theorize.

Yetzirah- Twilight of God: A book which contains “the stories imagined by Rainer”. It can be considered a book that innately copies stories from Rainer's mind into its pages; this can apply to the story Rainer witnesses before him, or to stories he imagines. While this is manifested, though, his ability to view something as if it is in a story becomes limited to what his own senses observe in a holistic manner, and what the construct he creates perceives. Moreover, a story cannot be designed from something he is incapable of understanding, or something that he has not "witnessed" (experience, rather than information). The book itself is capable of giving form to a being from its stories. The limitation is that only one such being can be manifested at any point in time, as it is something that does not belong in this world and requires Rainer's support. This restriction is consequently rendered null within Rainer's Beriah. The strength of this being is adjusted either positively or negatively to the level of Rainer’s own Power. Fine control is impossible, but influencing it through the red string of fate (plot) born of its story is possible.

Beriah- Through the Looking Glass: An external Beriah which transposes “the story inside of the book (Yetzirah)” to the outside. In other words, painting over the world with one of the stories that has been recorded in the book. States of affairs are altered to match the point of the story that is initiated; for instance, if Rainer is injured but the point of the story that is manifested has him as uninjured, then he will be “healed”. Within the Beriah, the laws of the world that are imposed are that of the laws of the world for the story. However, the existence of “fate” is irrelevant. Once the story is manifested, it will develop outside of Rainer’s control, as is he surrendering himself to the role of being a character in a story, instead of someone who lives outside of it. When the Beriah is dispelled, the states of affairs present at that time will remain in place, but the laws of the world will return to “normal”.

---

Power: B

Vitality: E

Range: A

Growth Potential: D

Name: Tahp Gundo

Age: 25

Gender: Cis-male

Personality: Tahp can be described as "determined, yet very eccentric".

Since hitting his father, Tahp has forgone any attempts at normalcy and decided to embrace himself while he tries to achieve his one true desire. He can only really hold a normal conversation when speaking of his few hobbies but even then, he finds it very difficult to pick up on the subtlties that accompany typical conversation. Social cues tend to fly right by him, so one must be very literal when speaking to him. He is also not very consistant with how he acts, so good luck figuring out how to deal with him for more than a few minutes at a time, if that.

He gets angry at the drop of a hat and lightens up just as fast, he is stubborn and will not change his mind once it has been made up, except when he feels like it, and he has a habit of howling when he gets enraged. He doesn't seem to exactly care about other people and finds it hard to trust people, although given his life up until now that's probably somewhat justifiable. He can be a bit sadistic when dealing with threats but otherwise does not care much for violence. This trait is immediately nullified if someone has insulted or is believed to have insulted his sense of style.

A very unstable man at best.

History: Tahp could not say he was born to a kind, caring family. In fact, it was much the opposite. His father was abusive and sadistic, to the point of beating his wife and pushing her down the stairs when she was pregnant. It did not help that his mother had absolutely no backbone whatsoever and was disgustingly submissive. There was not even respite in his older brother, whom took after his father.

Tahp shared abuse from both his father and his brother, and his mother always turned a blind eye to save herself where she could. He was told from the time he could understand and perhaps even before that that he was worthless and weak and that he should know his place. His father brought home the money and his brother held down the fort, that is why they were superior, or so they said. His brother especially liked tripping him on the steps of his house and smugly looking down on him.

He grew up submissive, just like his mother and once it was found out that he was a pushover, not even school was a safe place for him. Bullies would beat him up and tease him. He would be shoved down on the playground and they would even stand at the top of the steps to the jungle gym and deny him access. To say his earlier life was difficult would be quite the understatement, and it did not seem to get much better even when he grew into a young adult.

By this point, he had learned to be quiet and kind when he could so as not to cause trouble with others even though it always managed to find him. He was not exactly normal or socially adjusted. He could keep on a face that allowed one to believe he was normal, yet his mental state was fragile and he could not keep an actual conversation to save his life, which meant he knew not the feeling of having a friend and if he talked too much, people would avoid him. His only hobbies included reading about home design, reading manga, and watching movies a decade or two older than him. Yet despite this, fate seemed unwilling to let up in its assault.

Tahp thought about a career in home design but needed to work to keep his father placated so he took many side jobs while he worked towards such a career. He tried his best to keep his reputation good, but many times he was fired for scaring people, usually customers. However, it wasn't always his fault he was fired. In an act of cruelty one could probably only seen in any manga about bullying, Tahp was fired because his boss simply did not like him. Worst yet, he was told this while generously assisting said boss move to his new apartment on the second story of a complex. Tahp wasn't even halfway down the staircase when he was offhandedly told "You're fired, by the way." His heart dropped, but Tahp managed to turn around and look up to the owner and ask why.

"Because I can. Because I'm your boss and I don't like you."

It probably wasn't legal to do something like that, but it wasn't like Tahp cared at this point. When he got home and told his father this horrible news, the man obviously snapped and went to hit Tahp. However, unlike before, Tahp did not allow his father to do such a thing. Instead, he let out a howl, perhaps at the realization that humanity's arrogance would never change and that the weak would always be preyed on, and evaded the blow. With a single, rage-filled punch, Tahp knocked his father out and stormed out of the house, never looking back or returning. It should be noted, however, he only currently lives about five minutes from his parent's house.

He has been on and off of many different jobs, most of which require little to no interaction with other people and are mostly physical, so he's been getting really fit and he even has a subscription to the local gym, so he can indeed "lift" more than an average guy.

He often starts fights with random thugs in alleyways since they comment on his choice of clothing 9 times out of 10, so there's that, too.

Skills: He is very physically fit and has great stamina. Knows his way around a fight and can beat children through skillful employment of punching, but also adults when he has to. Has knowledge about various manga/anime/older american movies and is oddly keen on details pertaining to home creation.

Is capable of wearing clothing that turns heads for all the wrong reasons.

Other: Yes.

That being said, it wasn't long before I attained some basic comprehension of myself as an entity, and of the fact that I was a distinct being separate from the world around me. From that point, my awareness steadily grew as I incorporated new experiences into my overall conception of the world. As I thus endeavored to discern the nature of my embodiment, I swiftly came to a realization. For every pleasant experience I encountered, there was an equally unpleasant mishap that was to be feared. Hunger, thirst, and fatigue were some of the first I experienced, but as a whole I came to regard these sorts of things under one blanket category of misfortune: pain. So it was that, from the early stages of my infancy, it became my primary goal to avoid this "pain."

In hindsight, it seems easy to realize that I was never quite the same as anyone else. Although I was hardly unique in realizing that pain was to be avoided, I prudently ended my observations at that point. However, I was still naive. I assumed that everyone would simply do what was best for themselves, and otherwise wouldn't interfere in each other's affairs, simply because I myself understood that doing so was most expedient. I didn't realize just how wrong that idealistic assumption of mine was until I first saw a man die.

I don't remember why we were there - I was still quite young at the time, perhaps seven or eight. However, I vividly recall the scene itself as if it was yesterday. I was walking with my parents through an open shopping mall, when suddenly the crowd around us began to scream and scatter in all directions. My parents pulled me close, not wanting me to be trampled, but they didn't cover my eyes until I had already seen the spectacle that had incited so many people to flee in panic.

There was a man standing there at the center of the plaza, holding a gun to his head. I could hear the trigger clattering, because his hands were shaking. Then, in the next instant, there was a loud bang, and just like that, he fell to the ground. The moment the shot went through his skull, the opposite side of his head had cracked open like a melon, and blood splattered everywhere. Some droplets landed on my cheek, and I reached to rub them off, but thought better of it, because I remembered that blood was sticky and that if I rubbed it, I'd only rub it deeper into my skin. So, I thought better of it, and instead used a handkerchief to remove it as cleanly as I could. All the while, my parents were screaming at me and trying to pull me away, yelling at me not to look - as if merely looking would somehow force me to share in the man's fate.

But I wanted to understand what it was I'd just seen, so I asked them why he, a perfectly functional living being, had chosen to break himself in such an obviously painful manner. It didn't make sense. Why would someone who should have wanted to avoid pain instead cause it? And what was more, why had his hands been shaking? My hands only shook when I was cold or afraid. It had been a warm summer day, so then he must have been afraid. But the only thing to fear was the pain that he himself was inflicting, so in that case, why cause it at all? It seemed incomprehensible to me to do something so irrevocable when one wasn't certain of one's actions. How could he have been so foolish?

Needless to say, my parents never answered my question, but instead sought "psychiatric help," assuming I was somehow damaged from the experience. When the doctor asked me how I felt, I was already frustrated and impatient, so I told him as much - that it wasn't my problem, and I thought it was stupid. When I said those words, I remember clearly the look on the doctor's face, and on the faces of my mother and father. It was like they were looking at something they'd never seen before, something dangerous.

Like the thing in front of them wasn't even Human.

I asked what I'd said wrong, and they lectured me about speaking ill of the dead. I didn't understand their reasoning, but I realized that I'd get nowhere unless I simply smiled and nodded. This was what was expected of me, so naively I played along. I realized that it was my questions that were somehow the problem, so I stopped asking questions. This kept things quiet for at least a few more years - until I was already almost done with elementary school. Yet, once again, I was undone by my own naivete.

A classmate of mine - I can't remember her name anymore - was being bullied. She was a boring person to talk to, however, so I didn't pay her much mind. However, the teacher grew very angry at me when another student brought the problem of the bullying to her attention, and she lectured me about how I should have done something to prevent it. Personally, I thought her demands were outrageous. I wasn't physically strong or intimidating, so it wasn't as if I could scare them away or force them to stop. And, if I told the teacher, they'd just wait until she left and then target me next for spoiling their game. Either way, it was troublesome, so I hadn't bothered. The teacher wouldn't accept this, however, and demanded that I intervene if I ever saw something amiss in the future.

Needless to say, the bullies didn't stop just because they were told to, and the very next week, they were back at it again. I weighed my options, and came to a conclusion. I couldn't ignore the situation without being lectured or even punished, and I couldn't simply ask someone else to deal with it without calling their anger upon myself. Thus, I reasoned, I'd have no choice but to intervene directly, and do so in a way that would ensure that my classmate's antagonists would see the danger in attempting to perpetuate their little games upon me. Being a fan of rather factually inaccurate action movies, my childish mind set upon a plan that was flawed from the outset. Since I lacked strength, I would need a weapon. Next, I'd need to thin their numbers so I couldn't be surrounded and brought down that way.

So, I took up a nearby chair and smashed the head of the one I deemed to be the ringleader, figuring that a hard hit to the head would knock him out harmlessly like I'd seen in the movies, and his goons would scatter in fear. Just like that, I'd solve the problem, and go back to my peaceful life. Needless to say, however, that isn't what happened. And, as the boy's body hit the floor of the empty classroom, blood oozing from the crack I'd put in his head, the image called to mind the dead man I'd seen as a child, and I dropped the chair and uttered words I'd regret for the rest of my life.

"Oops. I killed him."

Needless to say, I hadn't. Although his bloody head wound required stitches and his bruised skull took time to heal, the boy was back at school within a week. However, that didn't matter. Even though it had clearly been a mistake, even though I explained my reasoning afterward, everyone treated me as if I'd tried to kill him deliberately, or even as if I'd succeeded at doing so! There were more doctors, more questions, pills they tried to force down my throat so I'd become more compliant, more placid. There were talks with my parents where they tossed around words I couldn't understand - "Psychopath," "Sadist," "Mentally Unstable," and other such "diagnoses." Finally, they settled on the one they liked best.

"Sociopath." I looked the term up to see what it meant. "A person suffering from Antisocial Personality Disorder." That alone set my hair on end. "Suffering?" I wasn't suffering at all. Up until that point, my life had been quite pleasant. I looked a little further. This "disorder" that I was apparently "suffering" from was described to me thus: "a personality disorder that is characterized by antisocial behavior exhibiting pervasive disregard for and violation of the rights, feelings, and safety of others starting in childhood or the early teenage years and continuing into adulthood."

It didn't make sense. This "disorder" they claimed afflicted me was the sin of simply not being my brother's keeper. Because I didn't feel inclined to inflict pain upon myself to better others, as if they couldn't take care of themselves, I was somehow flawed, somehow dangerous? What about those boys who'd been incessantly picking on that girl? Surely, they hadn't been "regarding" her rights, feelings, and safety by tormenting her constantly! Why weren't they called sociopaths, then, treated as if they were monsters? The answer was simple. Because they'd held themselves back, because they hadn't broken anything anyone needed, their actions were socially acceptable. To take pleasure in the pain of others is "normal," when one enjoys only a little bit of suffering at once. Those men of wisdom and taste call this "Schadenfreude." To cause pain to others out of necessity, however, even though one takes no joy in it, is the mark of a monster. Well, then let me be called a monster for acting in accordance with the dictates of reason! Let me be the one shunned and hated, the one whose name is whispered fearfully around every corner by voices that hush themselves as soon as I draw near! So it was that I was undone by my own logic, and I came to understand the unreasonable expectations of human beings. I was born free - it was society that put these chains upon me.

I don't feel inclined to rehash the happenings of the next several years. Suffice to say, that careless action meant to escape pain and inconvenience only brought a thousandfold more misery upon me. No matter where I went, it was as if my "crime" was branded upon my face for all to see, and sure enough that word would follow me. "Sociopath." A demon in human skin. Someone who cared more to live than to serve. A danger to be eliminated.

I was fortunate just to be ignored and left alone. At first, I comforted myself with the words of Machiavelli, that it was better for me to be feared than loved. However, the advantage of numbers does a lot against fear, and soon enough the scary monster became little more than a freak show on display. People wanted proof, to see that I was really as "insane" as they said I was. So began the bullying. Something would be stolen today, or vandalized tomorrow, all while the culprits hid away before I could arrive. I inquired politely of any witnesses I could find, but I seldom got answers. If I tried to bring my predicament to the teachers, they'd make a token effort to find the culprit, but that seldom got me anywhere. And, if I tried to stand up for myself, the instigators would invariably claim that I'd been the one harassing them. They'd be sent home with a warning. I would be sent to the therapist. The slow pain of their torment was better than the indignity of being convicted of a crime of which I was the victim, so after a while, I learned to shut up.

It wasn't any one person who was the enemy, who was the root cause of my pain. It was society itself. So, I fled from society. Any time I could, I locked myself in my room, and whenever I was outside, I spoke to no one. I ignored my misery as best I could, and did my best to pretend that Humanity didn't exist. All the while, I wondered if this was what that man had felt when he pulled that trigger. It was him versus society, and he had only so many bullets. The outcome was obvious before he even started, so he gave up. I contemplated doing the same myself, but decided against it. I wouldn't have been able to get a gun given my "mental instability," and other methods of suicide seemed too inefficient - too risky. Even if they actually killed me, it would be slow and painful, and that was hardly better than the mild agony I currently endured. And, if I wasn't certain, I wouldn't commit to such an irrevocable course of action. When my life ended, I didn't want my hands to be trembling as his had been. I didn't want to die without knowing that I'd made the right choice.

So, I kept on living, and thought it over again. I had one life. It was, by and large, a pointless thing, but it was mine, and that was what mattered. The world, however, had never concerned me, nor was it at all a thing I could call my own. So, instead of destroying my own life, there was only one course of action ahead of me: the choice that the man I'd seen as a child had been too scared to make.

I want to destroy the world - or at the very least, to destroy society. I want to erase all of the illogical pain, all of the irrational hatred. I want to build a wall between myself and the outside, and push everything that doesn't make sense outside, where it can't do anything to me, where it won't matter anymore. If it means obtaining the means to do that, the "magic bullet" I need to kill this unreasonable world rather than simply killing myself, then no effort is too great, no price too steep to pay. I know next to nothing about this "Naraka," and the whole notion of a killing game such as this seems rather tiresome, not to mention cliche. But if there's a chance... Then the only logical course of action is to do it, right? It's only natural that I should want things like this, right?! After all, I'm a monster! And everything else... Well, it's as the song says.

All in all, you were all just bricks in The Wall.




• Literary Obsession: The culmination of a prolific literary interest coupled with a tremendously keen memory. A veritable database of quotes, tropes, and idioms is perpetually at Vi's disposal. As such, she's not only capable but also tremendously fond of quoting from a variety of different classical texts, be it as evidence to prove a point, an introduction to a new conversational topic, or simply to sound profound. A rather useless talent by practical standards, but amongst fellow bookworms it might at least command some level of respect? Either way, it's a sign of an uncanny knack for remembering information, which might be useful if applied to something more practical.

• Rational Analyst: An ability inherent to the user's identity, necessitating a uniquely unbiased viewpoint from which to view one's own circumstances, and those of the people around her. Indeed, it could be said that this ability could only come naturally to an unfeeling monster, and its mere presence is a sign of some level of mental pollution. This skill allows Vi to remain uniquely detached not only from the plights of others and feelings that would ordinarily be inspired upon witnessing such tragedies, but also from the clouding of her own emotions. This entails the ability to keep calm in the face of burning anger, and to think through one's decisions rationally rather than behaving recklessly. Although this skill's applications are limited without the power to back it up, it nevertheless means that Vi is more than mentally prepared to kill without a second thought, and her strategies are only limited by her own creativity - or lack thereof - and the means available to her.

• One Breath Walking: Although lacking in any sort of combat experience or martial proficiency, or even any physical inclinations, the user is nevertheless gifted with a natural awareness of one's own body, positioning, and posture. Vi is capable of moving herself from point A to point B without overbalancing herself or losing control of her breathing. This doesn't sound like much, but it's better than stumbling around and flailing clumsily. And, while she's far from apt at physical combat, at the very least, she's capable of employing her powers with minimal exertion on her part.

More may be added to this list as her abilities are revealed.



• Vi usually isn't found without her earbuds blasting some kind of music in her ears to help her block out the world.

• She tends to frequent several internet chatrooms under the handle "BenevolentFiend," since on the internet, nobody knows you're a sociopath, and she enjoys the experience of being able to converse with people without that stigma.

• As mentioned above, she HATES being called Vicky. There's no deeper reason to this. She just doesn't like the way it sounds.

• She likes red meat, dressing as a mad scientist, letting her hair fall over her face to make her look like a vengeful spirit, and evil laughing. Because, hey, if she's a monster, why not have some fun with the role?

• She tends to fixate somewhat on people's hands - probably a lingering observational tendency caused by her experience watching a suicide. Either way, she can tell a surprising amount about someone just by looking at the way their hands move.

Name: Gin Ichi

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Personality: In his daily life, Gin lives as a calm and collected intellectual, easily able to converse with others and maintain a friendly disposition. He flirts with women the first opportunity he gets, and enjoys seeing children smile. First and foremost, though, Gin is a man of faith, ever loyal to his religion. He believes that God had given him a chance at life, and is willing to do much to maintain that life. As a result, Gin prefers to see peoples' good sides and give them the benefit of the doubt, but if they show that they are not deserving of his kindness, he will not hesitate to be a little more disrespectful in his approach. He will not use violence, though, except as a last resort; instead, he simply expresses his dislike either subtly or openly, as well as playing an occasional small prank using his few talents.

History: Gin was abandoned at an early age, having to grow up on the streets. He would find whatever scraps of food and money he could, whether it was just lying around in the open or from peoples' pockets. It was a hard life, but he got by. One day, he was following an old man in black clothing. To Gin, the old man looked well off, and seemed like an easy target to swipe a bit of money off of. Gin made his move, but unfortunately, his outstretched arm was quickly grasped by the wrist. Gin, realizing his mistake, tried to pull back, but the old man's grip was firm. Rather than being punished or anything, however, the old man merely smiled, and asked him where his parents were. Gin glared at the man and stayed silent, but his stomach chose not to do the same, growling loudly. As Gin turned away, embarrassed, the old man laughed and offered him a place to stay and more than enough food to eat. Gin was reluctant, but it was too good on an offer to refuse, and the two made their way over to a church orphanage.

The old man, who was a priest at the church, had taken it upon himself to teach Gin what he knew, if at east because Gin was the first to be there. From there, Gin was turned down the path to becoming a priest, learning things from reading and writing to proper table manners to the contents of the Bible. As time passed, more and more kids were living at the orphanage, and Gin felt content for the first time in his life. He used what he had been taught by the old priest and spread his lessons to others, eager to share his happy experiences with them. He never really stopped, even as he grew to be an adult and the old priest passed away from old age. He would continue doing so until the day he died as well.

Skills: -Street smarts: Gin had to learn many tricks to live on the streets, and just because he became a priest doesn't mean he's lost them. Well, at least not all of them. Mainly he identifies trickery and deceit, among other things, from others, as well as using some of his own to outwit them. In addition, he possesses a decent amount of skill in pickpocketing.

-Silver tongue: Gin can and will speak quite eloquently when he feels the situation calls for it. Most of the time he just uses this to flirt with women, though that doesn't mean he won't be using it for other purposes.

Name: Elyse Von Streuselburg

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Appearance:



Personality: Elyse is a relatively chill and relaxed sort of person, but who has big dreams of exploring the world one day and traveling from place to place to see everything there is to see. Travel is actually one of her favorite things to indulge in, whether it be to the beach or to another country entirely. Though this in part means she gets a bit antsy when cooped up too long with nothing to do, this ansty-ness more or less depends on a situation. In a casual situation she is more likely to pout and demand to go do something at least, while in serious situations she has the tact to keep her trap shut and do what she needs to do. She can be adventurous at times, whether with cooking and eating a dish she saw on TV or things like heading out to a secret party with a friend in the middle of the night to drink illegal booze, and at times like taking others risks...albeit ones that have actually had some thought put into it like going skydiving in France with her "fun uncle" on her father's side of the family. All the same, she can still go through the same gambit of emotions like any other human being, and the various moods people are subject to.

History: Elyse is an individual who has always been of the adventurous sort, though has learned some serious things like caution and planning to an extent from this over the years despite her young age. She was born to a former American MMA fighter as a father, and a British restaurant owner from Riversfield who is her mother. Between hearing stories of her mother's traveling to learn to cook before opening her restaurant, to hearing of her father's fights around the globe and experiences learning about other forms of fighting around the world and seeing other cultures in the process, her own desire seemed to be fueled greatly to want to get out into the world and to eventually travel once she got the money to do so. She talked to exchange students in school, snuck out of her house to explore (resulting in a few groundings and trouble in the past with her parents), talked to many kinds of people, tried many kinds of food (and cooking it at that), and in general wanted to get out into things. She has gone skydiving with her stereotypical "fun uncle" figure from her father's side of the family, she has gone white water rafting with her parents on vacation, and even has tried to apply for being an exchange student (only to be shot down by her worried parents).

In short, her life has been a relatively good one, even resulting in her joining a local band made up of peers her age as the lead guitarist and a singer just to see different places as they play at various avenues within Riversfield and in the local area. However, this is not the rest of the open world, and Elyse has been itching to get out of the suburban Riversfield eventually to go see what else is out there. However, she has at least been able to understand that she needs money and the right idea to get out there without getting herself killed or worse, so she had been biding her time somewhat patiently for years to wait for the right time and to have the right resources to fulfill her dream.

But now she's involved with a magical deathmatch with weebs, memes, likely some older adults maybe involved, and probably at least a couple people who want to probably destroy the world and other crap. Ah. That will probably be fatal to her, in all likeliness. But she won't go down without trying to do something at least.

Skills: Noteworthy abilities, talents, or knowledge. Please put it here if you have any intention of using it.

Masterful Knowledge of Riversfield- She has literally been around the Riversfield area enough to know it like the back of her hand. This includes shortcuts, back roads, and the like that she can take advantage of with a great ease. The lay of the land is her back yard, and is to her utmost advantage unlike more recent arrivals and such.

High Stamina- For a kid her age, her roaming about and such has left her with a high level of stamina from all the exercise she has managed to get. She can keep up physically better than the average adult stamina-wise, has especially advantage against lazy weebs in the physical stamina sense, but this being noted an adult that is a trained traithalete or of the similar sorts will not probably have the easiest nor the hardest time out-stamina-ing her in an extended period of physical exertion.

Fast Runner- Whether its the po-po chasing her, an angry crowd at a gig running at her, her parents pursuing her to take her back home, outrunning the track team, or even catching up with some idiot in the school hall who owes her money or something like that, she can run very fast for someone her age. Kinda goes with the "high stamina" thing as well.

Sneakiness- With a like hers of rocking, partying, sneaking out, and running from things or sneaking up on them for fun, and even knowing the layout of Riversfield intimately, she has a high level of sneakiness during the day or the night that makes her good at hiding and approaching other completely undetected and such. Ya know, unless someone has a detection ability that ruins this. Meh.

Other: She may not be a super-weeb, and definitely isn't a N.E.E.T., but she has at least watched the anime for Parts 2, 3, and 4 of JJBA (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) several times over. This has led to some unintentional moments of quoting lines and acting like a character while drunk and making Jojo poses in front of bandmates and friends...or after a gig or party. Sometimes without pants if its's a really bad night and she at a female bandmate's house to hide from her parents for a few hours until she's more sober.

Name: Krause Barleyton.

Age: 46

Gender: Male



Personality: A bitter person who seems to live in memories. Not moving forward, nor unable to think in new terms. In a way he’s a person who never grew up. This is not in the terms of not adapting and growing more capable to meet the responsibilities of adult life, although the only thing one could say he’s managed in terms of that is to keep to the basic necessity of working to keep himself housed and fed, wasting time in idle entertainment. The sense of growing up is the sense of time passing, of growing and changing, of becoming a different being with the passage of time. A person is not the same person as they were a year ago, and people transform day by day as a result of their experiences and newly changing values and wisdoms. The mind and viewpoint of Krause is stuck in the past, not advancing from the days before his accident. Yet people change because they must as the world changes. A person who holds onto a past that only becomes farther and farther distant from the past is a living ghost, a wraith, a mere shadow of a man. The present is something he lives in, exists in, yet his mind and frame of reference is a distorted view from the past.

In a way the most hopeless of people. Misfortunate but also a victim of their own self. Other paths and potentials wither on the vine, unrecognized by the gardener who could cultivate them. He instead deciding to go through the rites of tending to and honoring a tree that has grounded into rot.

While one might assume that he simply wanted to continue on connected to his dream in some manner he simply picked something that fell within his awareness, his awareness of that which seemed unrelated to his pass dull and almost unnoticeable. It isn't that he decided to go into this sort of work consciously, it was more that it was the only option that seemed to exist in his eyes. Living a shell of a life, keeping to himself and keeping to a formless routine in which the days blur in together. Indeed, it would take an amazing shock, perhaps even bordering on the supernatural to open his eyes to the world once more.

But even then a life built on regret, and the pining of the past cannot suddenly give birth to a man. But perhaps this shade, this past shall find itself staring at the future and present for once.

History: Everything that has occurred in their life up until now, which is worth noting. Nobody is allowed to know about the existence of magic, Naraka, or so on. Also, whether born in it, or having just moved in last week, your character must be in the small, largely suburban town of Riversfield at the start of the roleplay.

A man who wasted away, a sad shell who lives only to be a hollow container for dreams that once were and good times long past. A young boy that was the single child to loving parents, a good home, growing up in a small city in the mid west of the United States.

A talent for athletics, specifically Baseball built him up as a rising star. One whose future looked bright with scholarships and a potential to reach the big leagues. His life proceeded smoothly until a vehicular accident on a family trip shortly after his highschool graduation. Hurting his shoulder, and losing his parents. He found himself plunged into a life with the loss of his dream, set life and support.

Life insurance, the liquidation of assets. He retreated from life and stopped living. Withdrawing he simply didn’t die, keeping his body running for as long as he could with his life of solitude. Someone who simply lived in memories, not truly there.

Eventually he became a normal worker, becoming a employee for a company that deals with sportswear for children. Despite finding there to be pain in working with things that reminded him of what he wanted and had he nevertheless found that he had nothing else to go for. For a person like him whose thoughts all centered around the past the idea of going for something brand new and starting all over simply did not come to him. Like a wraith living in the past.

Eventually in the present day he came to Riversfield as part of a business trip, one that is coming to a close as something new comes to force itself on the one who never moved on.

Skills:

Hand-eye coordination (degraded): Once a rising star in the baseball scene, Krauss's ability to react, and coordinate his body with himself and mind is higher than most individuals. Even out of practice this ability that is hardly used in his normal life

Good throwing accuracy and speed (degraded): Intent blends in with ability. While hardly anything that approaches a supernatural ability, the knowledge of his capability and his ability to enact his plans in terms of throwing objects, especially baseballs is definitely that which can be recognized as a skill befitting one that could have reached the realm of a famous pro.

A Fine Knowledge on Bad Alcohol:Depression leads to drinking. Hardly a connoisseur, it's more that one is numb to the taste of alcohol and has built a tolerance that those who drink not for the pleasure of the drink itself, nor socially have.

Education: Nothing beyond a standard highschool education. Many facets were perhaps a bit skimped on, or otherwise degraded overtime however.

-Malus: Old injuries left from the accident leave him easily short of breath, and his chest with aches. Stamina is hardly a strength of Krauss in these days.