[@mattmanganon] Alright, please tell me if original worlds and original character D-links are allowed. If they aren't, then do D-links need to necessarily be Disney/Square Enix characters? If they aren't then I'll come up with a different character. [hider=not yuuta][center][img]https://static.zerochan.net/Oga.Tatsumi.full.763872.jpg[/img][/center] [b]Name:[/b] Rice Whitefield [b]Age:[/b] Somewhere in his twenties [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Race:[/b] Human [b]Homeworld:[/b] A small and nasty world at the edge of the multiverse. I'll detail it if original worlds turn out to be allowed. [b]Key-Weapon:[/b] His bare fists. The Keyblade doesn't entirely manifest, but when it does, a [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/6b/63/23/6b63230cacf7bbc648311a8fd01c3e94.jpg]tatoo[/url] forms on the back of his hands. [b]Magics:[/b] Focus, Chakra, Counter, Aurablast, Shockwave [b]D-Links:[/b] Hercules? Tifa? Guess I'll think it over. [b]Job:[/b] Monk [b]Appearance:[/b] Rice often wears a button-down shirt under a cheap cardigan. He started wearing a button-down shirt after coming across an article saying that he should dress up for the job he wants, so that he may one day get it. He's given up on getting a proper job long ago, but the button-down shirt has always sort of stuck with him. As for the cardigan, it's a cheap way to keep warm. He usually keeps his hands in his pockets and has scary steely eyes he uses to threaten people. [b]Brief History:[/b] [hider]Rice doesn't remember his birthday. Neither does he remember where he was born, or where his name came from. All he remembers is a short but blissful childhood he spent with a certain woman he regarded as his mother. The world around him was a dark and brutal place. The strong ruled over the weak, and whenever anyone complained, they'd be put in their place with nothing more than violence and force. Those who had none of those would live in makeshift villages run by smugglers and questionable authority figures. Gangs came to rule the streets, and fistfights broke out in every place imaginable. Fortunately, fistfights were something Rice was good at, and he came to be mildly respected by those around him. His mother explained to him that their world was once a place filled with respectable people who had perfected the art of strengthening the body. She tried her best to pass on her own martial art to him, a style with numerous stances, graceful movements, and quick but calculated strikes. None of that reached her young pupil, who chose to simply hit things as hard as he could. Despite that, this woman was Rice's only ray of light in the gloomy world he lived in. She made him believe that there was good in people's hearts, and that justice would always triumph over evil. That was until she was brutally killed by a high-ranking member of an organized crime syndicate. Months later, that man met his end at the hands of none other than Rice himself. Since then, Rice became nothing short of an asshole. He'd wander around, get into fights, and accept questionable jobs that involved lots of what he did best: punching people. He set his mind on one goal: to become as rich and powerful as possible. After all, if the world was in one big race for the position of the strongest, then why not join in? Nobody trusted each other, and they'd stick to their own talents, whether it be charisma, strength, or the ability to strike a convincing deal. Rice, being a man of the streets, had all of that. However, at the end of each day, he remained a wandering hobo. What was it that those at the top had that he lacked? It was one fateful day when while in a heated bar fight when an army of dark creatures began ravaging the streets, leaving piles of dead bodies littered throughout them. Of course, Rice didn't give a crap, and kept swinging his fists at his opponent. An ethereal void formed at his feet, and he found himself falling into an odd world he didn't recognize. He found himself face to face with a mysterious man in blue armor. Being in a drunken stupor, Rice's only reaction to seeing a new face was to punch it. The problem was that man was Xehanort, and you don't screw with Xehanort unless you're wielding your Ultima Weapon. Rice had none of that, and despite putting on a decent fight, he found his face in the dirt. Rice came to the conclusion that the reason why those who were powerful in his own world were like that because they had connections to people outside it. He continued his quest to be the richest, and worlds beyond his own were not spared from his destructive antics. It was soon known that, wherever you were, whatever you did, you'd at one point be conned by the famous shit-talking, hard-hitting, and forever-grinning man of mystery: Rice Whitefield. [/hider] [b]Other:[/b] This is the last character I'll make that punches things with magic, I promise [/hider]