Doc Doctor

The Magna Pater's Sheet

The Magna Pater

Aliases: The Sleeper of the Clandestine, Shasheuss-Gux (Seminole), Salmu Pulhu (Sumerian), The Great Father

Gender: Male

Species: Living Nightmare, Primordial Vampire

Lifespan: As long as it can continue drinking blood. It doesn't age when it sleeps for years in-between large meals.

Age: 2,387 (Current Physical Form and Mental State), otherwise timeless and unrestricted by the concept of age.

Appearance: A piebald monstrosity with slime slicked flesh and no hind legs. Its only limbs are two craggy, winged arms and a powerful tail of prodigious size. It has four fingers on each hand, with the middle one bearing a claw eight inches long and capable of slicing through muscle like tissue paper. The other claws are half that length. Its head vaguely resembles the chiropteran caricature of a rubber hand puppet turned inside out, whose distinctly malleable features shift and bulge in cooperation with the unknown physiology operating beneath the flexible cartilage of its skull. The Magna Pater wears a dripping maw packed tightly with gruesome tombstone teeth, concealed beneath flabby lips pulled back into a dog-like grin, the kind of grin that knows. Childhood fears, once long forgotten, echo dimly through unseeing, oily eyes. These features are accentuated by long, crinkle cut ears and wrinkled leaf nostrils. It has a sharp and hollow tongue which can extend three feet from its mouth, acting as a siphon to suck in blood. Dermal branchial papulae, like the thousands of little tube-like legs on a starfish, coat its skin and protrude whenever it's beneath water or drenched in slime. When inactive the respiratory feelers retreat into the body, leaving the flesh spongy and pocked.



It has no reflection and the monster's motion and form exhibit a surreal, dreamy quality that offends the basic innermost sensibilities of any remotely natural or sane organism. From snout to tail base it's over eight feet long. The tail is fourteen feet, and each arm is six foot five to the wrist. It weighs in at about two-hundred and ninety-five kilos, as much as a Siberian tiger.



Abilities

My Hider

~Limited flight. Due to its wingspan and body weight, it can only glide.

~Ectothermic: Its body temperature adjusts to match its surroundings. It can withstand the hottest or coldest environments.

~Tremendous strength, speed, and agility, the likes of which dominate the animal kingdom.

~Keen hearing and sonar. It's echolocation has a maximum distance of 6,700 meters and can detect objects moving at half the speed of sound. Its hearing is so good it can locate a victim even through miles of dense forest and with its back turned. Anything faster than its echolocation it can sense almost instantly via air pressure gradient.

~Breathing: The Magna Pater respirates via both lungs and tracheae located all over its body. The tracheae are highly developed and allow it to survive in every kind of atmosphere or lack thereof.

~Stealth: Its mucous gums up and muffles any minor sounds it may make when sneaking, and it is immune to any magical or supernatural detection that doesn't naturally or scientifically originate within the five known senses. That is to say, it cannot be located via any sixth sense. It is, however, unable to change color or camouflage itself, and as such rarely stalks during the day. One with sharp eyes or a sharper wit might be capable of finding it.

~Heat pits: Can detect all forms of heat and energy. This includes light itself.

~Tongue: Can draw in blood through a wound like a vacuum. It can also squirt or spray blood and bile. The bile is not highly acidic.

~Natural weapons: Its teeth and claws are composed of a complex chitin and protein polymer, harder and sharper than a Humboldt squid's beak, which can pierce modern body armor. The Magna Pater's bite force is superior to what a Nile crocodile can exert. Its tail has nearly 90,000 muscles, flexible enough to delicately pick up small pebbles, and strong enough to accelerate to whip-like striking speeds or strangle large animals.

~Can freely bend its entire body like rubber or stiffen into rock-hardness. It lacks bones, instead maintaining its shape through different varieties of tensile muscle and cartilage. It can stretch itself within reason, potentially gaining several extra inches of reach in a pinch, as well as squeeze into any opening that it can fit its head through.

~Capable of entering a state of metabolic stasis which can last for decades. It retains spatial awareness during this "hibernation" and can awaken at will.

~Sense of smell: It can track down others thousands of kilometers away just by smelling them on the clothing of its prey.

~The Pull: The Magna Pater and the places it most often visits bear a quality that faintly arouses a victim's morbid curiosity when nearby. This doesn't work if one is aware of the monster's presence. As an example, were the Magna Pater to be waiting outside of a locked window, the victim may feel vaguely compelled to go to said window and look out, but not unlock the window after sighting the horror beyond it. The monster can decide whether or not a victim feels the "Pull". It has scarcely any effect on those with a strong will and a firm grasp of what is real, since the Pull is predominantly meant to snare children.

~Intelligence: Is far more clever that it looks. It has nearly two millennia of experience as a highly prolific interdimensional serial killer, can grasp (but not speak) all languages, and never makes the same mistake twice.

~Can quickly regenerate from wounds by consuming blood and flesh. The amount of mass healed is proportionate to how much is consumed, I.E one pound of food to replace one pound of damaged tissue. It can selectively heal different parts of its body, and any excess food it eats is stored for later regeneration. It can hold up to 110 kilos of food in its stomach.

~The membrane of its wings is tougher than Kevlar, and can easily stop bullets of the highest caliber.

~Its body mucous and saliva contains anticoagulant, cytotoxic, and bufotoxic properties. Those whom it bites or claws will suffer gradual necrosis, unstoppable bleeding, and fast-acting, nightmarish hallucinations. Supernatural forms of healing are drastically hindered where the Magna Pater's juices are concerned, the anticoagulant preventing even magic from clotting or regenerating blood cells, although the monster is immune to its own toxins.
The speed at which the bufotoxins take effect depends on how close the wound is to the head, ranging from several minutes to several seconds.
The viscosity of the mucous can be regulated, allowing the Magna Pater to be extremely slippery or adhesive. The mucous at its stickiest can bind even the strongest of life forms, deaden the momentum of heavy impacts, and tear off the skin and muscle of any victims that are unfortunate enough to come into contact with it.
The mucous functions also to mask its scent.
It can convert and excrete up to twenty percent of its body weight in mucous. It becomes significantly faster when empty, and can regain the weight by eating.

~The Alpha:

Special Ability

Though it would never allow its young to live unless driven to desperation by an immense threat to its existence, for it is a selfish thing that dislikes sharing its hunting grounds, it is able to impose its will upon its brood of lesser vampires via shared split-consciousness. By forcefully breeding with another organism, it can produce in one month a litter of four juveniles. The juveniles are capable of killing at birth and mature after a single month whereupon they become able to breed, weighing at that time around 100 kilos each. The brood will never grow to more than 200 kilos. They are vastly inferior to the Magna Pater in terms of physical power, albeit still capable of easily tearing an adult male polar bear limb from limb. Each one can have a litter of four young, and can breed with as many victims as are available. Any sort of living organism that weighs at least seventy pounds, male or female, can be impregnated.
At such a rate the number of mature brood would grow exponentially as follows, assuming the lowest estimate of each one breeding a single time per month.

Month One- The Magna Pater breeds and the young emerge.

Month Two- Five mature brood counting the Magna Pater.

Month Four- Twenty brood.

Month Six- Eighty Brood.

Month Eight- 320 brood.

Month Ten- 1,280 brood.

Year One- 5,120 brood.

Year Two- 26,214,400 brood.

~Malocchio:

Special Ability

It may use this power by shutting down its other senses. Before it uses the Malocchio, the intended victim(s) will have a brief premonition of the danger to come. Those who see its eyes will see also a fragmentation of its true essence, and a connection will be made. It is a thoroughly foul experience with no proper comparison. Afterwards, each time the victim goes to sleep, they will enter a trance and begin moving in the direction of the Magna Pater, wherever it may be. They will awaken at the time they normally would, such as a few minutes for a nap and several hours for deep sleep. It also allows the Magna Pater to see with the eyes of its prey whenever it uses the Malocchio, even at the same time if there are multiple victims. By using the Malocchio on one who is already cursed, the victim's sight will be replaced with that of the Magna Pater's until it deactivates its eyes. As it shares the sight of any victims cursed by the Malocchio, this enables it to mix and match the eyes of any marked opponents by proxy, without requiring them to look at it so long as it has other prey to work with. This only lasts for as long as the Malocchio is sustained.

As an example, were it to mark and capture a dog and then mark a dozen humans, it could let the humans go but then repeatedly alternate their vision with that of its own, the dog's, or with each other, by making the animal look into its eyes. The only way to break the Malocchio is to kill the Magna Pater's physical body.

It is a passive curse that has no immediate negative effects unless the victim is entirely under the influence of the Magna Pater's hallucinogens, in which case the victim will immediately lose their mind from fright as the Magna Pater fully claims them into its transcendental nightmare. If the bufotoxins haven't taken full effect then the victim will feel an intense fear which escalates in accordance to the strength of the already terrifying hallucinations.

Looking into its eyes for too long can result in the victim's body becoming riddled with cancer at a later period in time, I.E developing prostate and skin cancer two years after the encounter. It takes roughly seven seconds of eye-to-eye contact (does not have to be constant) before the dormant cancer cells begin taking root.
The Magna Pater can only keep the Malocchio active for at most sixteen seconds, and cannot use it again until the same amount of time has passed. As an example, if it only uses it for ten seconds and then deactivates, then it must rest its eyes for ten seconds. The Magna Pater is able to travel to any realm or dimension that withholds a victim of the Malocchio as well. What's more, when the Malocchio is active the Magna Pater is able to touch and otherwise harm incorporeal beings.

Those that are consumed by the Magna Pater whilst cursed by the Malocchio are reduced to their "essential salts", the physical manifestation of their very being. Their consciousness is bound to these salts, and at the monster's whim it can excrete its victims and leave them to be forever lost in the earth as inert particles, the crushing weight of the ages and of their last tormented memories forming an intimate and inescapable hell. The Magna Pater can also, by consuming enough food, give "birth" to a reincarnation of a devoured victim, altering their very essence and defiling the laws of nature and spirit to create a lesser primeval vampire that wields all of the powers it had in its past life. The stronger the victim, the more powerful the primeval thrall. They are entirely subject to the Magna Pater's will, and with the telepathic connection the Magna Pater shares with all its brood, it can gain all of the life experience and knowledge that the victim had stored up before being eaten.

(An untranslated 18th century copy of De Vermis Mysteriis.)

Behavior/Personality: The Magna Pater is what one would first think of when the word "monster" comes to you in the dead of night.
It may be called if one completes a forbidden ritual detailed within the ancient tome of black magic known as De Vermis Mysteriis, but nary a being would consider doing such an obscene thing. It makes no noise, has no mercy, cannot be reasoned with, and lives only to drain the blood and devour the flesh of all living things it can bind within its greasy wings. Despite its incalculable intelligence, it never makes any attempts to genuinely communicate with victims. It has no desire for social interaction or personal expression, being a life form beyond both concepts.

It enjoys all manner of prey and is especially inclined to go out of its way to find toddlers and infants, but it is shy and despises the light. It prefers to remain in damp pitch-blackness, where no eyes can spy it and no light can fall upon it. Areas that it has frequented for many years are imbued with distinct, otherworldly vibes, as would be felt in a grievously haunted house. Its lairs are moreso thickened with an underlying feeling of unreality, as if partly submerged in an eerie fantasy.


("The dark side of life, and the horror of it, belonged to a world that lay remote from his own select little atmosphere of books and dreamings.")

It frequently impregnates victims with its brood, keeping them alive until its malformed young are birthed. It will eat both the victim and the young, doing these things not for food but to purposefully inflict prolonged torment. The few who come into contact with it and live may never be the same as they had been before, for above all else it is a creature of persistence. Even if one leaves the Magna Pater, it will never leave them. A variety of lifelong physical complications and psychological ailments can stem from a meeting with it and it never stops pursuing its prey, even if they move far away. It will also track down any living thing that leaves its scent on a victim. This leads to the Magna Pater consuming the families of those it hunts, along with anyone those families had come into recent physical contact with. Though one may travel often and abroad, once the Magna Pater has chosen a victim their fate is inevitable. It could take days, weeks, months, even years, but eventually on some cold and moonless evening one will awaken to see a sticky face with dead eyes peering through their bedroom window.


(Drawing found in the desk of ten year old Vidya Singh, who went missing in Kanpur, India, two months after claiming to have seen a demon in his backyard.)

History:


Once in a millennium does a creature awaken, a primal horror that represents the physical manifestation of an ethereal, reincarnating monster originating in and as a part of an eternal non-Euclidean nightmare extending past the boundaries of reality. The literal translation of the creature's name, and the name of the nightmare (for it resides within itself) is that of the "Great Father", as many other monsters come from it. In order to fully influence other spheres with its presence, it must obey most of the natural and dimensional laws present. As such, it casts forth a tangible extension of itself. Through this physical presence it may gradually submit other lifeforms and habitats to its will and alter their fundamental states of being. The Magna Pater stalks alone, for it is greedy and does not abide its own kind, but always has one lived. It is the alpha of its mindless subspecies, who thrash and writhe in a charnel chaos of endless autocannibalism amongst the desolation of the heavenly bodies the Magna Pater has ravaged. When all other life is gone, the brood eat and grow off of each other as a self-sustaining conglomerate organism that is its own ecosystem.
Only when the lone alpha dies is a new one conceived in the nightmare, as a new Magna Pater recycled. At this point in time does a special one exist, the worst that has ever lived, who was known by the humans of old as "The Sleeper of the Clandestine". Such is its cunning that it has learned to retrieve its memories via the psychic link to its vast brood scattered throughout time and space. It can live again as itself after death, when one-hundred years of incubation has passed. Only can the Magna Pater be permanently stopped if its pneuma, its true state of being, is destroyed or sealed away. Though it is exceedingly difficult to entirely destroy the full entity, as each brood carries with it a fragment of the whole, which in and of itself exists in abstract form, the Magna Pater can be ultimately contained and stopped potentially forever by capturing its pneuma, which leaves its eyes when it dies, in a stone of turquoise weighing at least five pounds. Turquoise was regarded by Aztecs and Native Americans alike to be the holiest of stones, and infinitely more potent than a woven dreamcatcher at stifling nightmares. Such is the truth.

It travels far and with little preference, drawn to whatever realm has foolishly called it via black magic. In Sumeria it was worshipped as an obscure and cruel deity to which countless sacrifices were made. Before the Seminole Wars it was dreaded by the Creek Indians, who gave it many names and forms, as it was too wicked a thing to exist under any one description. Even the most vile of devils balk at associating with it. Like each Magna Pater before it, it wields the unique capacity to share the senses, memories, and will of its subspecies, which it can use to wipe out entire populations. Fortunately it is a petty thing, and despite the magnitude of its origins, it remains content to personally antagonize one victim at a time. It treasures the world, but only for the sadistic pleasures it can derive from slowly bringing pain and grief to other living things.

Though it lingers not permanently on this planet, it is anchored here during times of inactivity. Only, anchors tend to move from time to time. It's a concept rarely reckoned with except in bedside yarns spun by superstitious housewives of the old country. A mother who fears that should her twins venture out past the tree line where the porch light ends to play hide and seek, one of them might go missing while the other one, too late, realizes that it's no longer a sibling they're hiding from. Yes, mothers fear for their children. Out in the sticks, boys explore. It's what they do. They adventure, following wherever a fancy may lead. Out into vacant lots, under railways and through the boonies. Sometimes boys find small caves and cracks large enough to crawl through. These are hidey holes, but few boys hide in them. Always, the reason is because the possibility exists that the hidey hole is occupied. Cougars? Snakes? Yes, very often that's the case. Mother says to watch out for animal dens.

Sometimes, though, just sometimes...

There might be a hidey hole that wasn't there before, or isn't there anymore. One that travels. An opening to another place, a lonely place with a voice all its own. A crevasse five feet long and three feet wide. A soft wind churns out of the icy nether, a subterranean current that tousles the hair. It smells of mildew. Even a brave boy can hesitate, but the call of the secret is strong. It knows you by name, it beckons with fantastic mysteries. A lure, but not of the kind men set to catch fish. This lure pulls you down, not up. The blue sky transitions into a black void. It is too tight a fit to turn around. You can only back out, and all the while choose to either stare ahead or shut your eyes. To continue is to encounter a winding network, a sweating labyrinth of dolomite tunnels whose dimensions are identical to playhouse tubes. Some stretch for a hundred miles or more. Each one leads to the same place, and never back the way you came. The longer you remain in the tunnels, the more drunk you become. Your bearings fade, until there is naught but a dream of disorientation. The deeper you crawl, the more an oozing sweetness like that of a putrefying wound tints the air. Echoes so distant and dim that they could have been mistaken for tricks of the imagination trickle along the damp walls. Sooner or later, all will reach the end.

For some it takes days, others minutes. Always they wind up in the lair. One-hundred and fifty feet high and three miles in diameter. Hulking stalactites and stalagmites bear witness to the supreme age of the chamber, a lichen hellscape of death and graverot. For all the lair's imposing size, every inch of the floor is concealed deep beneath a disorganized carpet of skeletons, wet with moss. Every other surface seems powdered with a strange talcum dust, whose scent is not a physical thing, but scarce, indecipherable emotions. In the middle, looming in the distance, is a hillock whose pinnacle nearly reaches the ceiling. At this point the muddled dream ends, and what feels to be a sick hallucination born from a lucid fever begins. The Sleeper of the Clandestine slumbers upon a towering butte of soggy bones, the bones of children, reigning over its decaying empire on a haphazard throne several thousand lives thick. It's too dark to see anything. You cannot see when the dread form, glazed over with black corpse moss, starts moving for the first time that year. Like ancient clockwork gears, like a reptile out of the cold, it needs to wind up, warm up, shrug off the drowsiness of hibernation. It always moves slowly at first, even clumsily. Bones can be heard rolling down the hill as the Sleeper stretches. Now and then it speaks, or seems to speak...

"Journeys end in lovers meeting."

Theme Music:

The Magna Pater's Arenas-

Cape Coral Canals

Cape Coral Canals


Cape Coral Canals Arena Theme-

Cavern of the Lost

The Cavern of the lost




Beings with supernatural senses are at risk to being driven quickly to vegetative madness by the horrific psychic screams resonating from the essential salts which thickly coat the walls, floor, and ceiling, countless condemned souls that have long since lost their sanity and humanity to the thing that haunts the cavern.

Cavern of the Lost Arena Theme-

The Final Hazard

@WiseDragonGirl
@Terminal

Donny frowned and glanced back at Leona. He was looking specifically to be if she was breathing, for the rise and fall of a chest.

"Yuh a strawng one, ain'tcha? Ya able tah see if thah medic tellin' fibs, missus?"

TZDL2017 Rules/Signups/Updates

I skimmed over the first page pretty fast, assuming I'm 'sposed to post my sheet here and then add the availability later if the sheet is accepted? Here goes!

EDIT: Here's my availability anyways. Sunday through Saturday, every day of the week. I have a ridiculously erratic week-by-week work schedule, but I can /ALWAYS/ post at least every one to two days, and usually as often as my opponent can post.

Gonad Yaksplitter

Name: Gonad Yaksplitter
Title: The Lord of the Rising Sun
Age: 34
Height: 7'2"
Weight: 499 pounds
Boxing Reach: 92"
Shoe Size: 24
Race: Human
Eye Color: Hazel

Weapons and Equipment-

-His body.

-A set of thick six-kilo gilded steel bracers.

-A pair of three-kilo gilded steel gauntlets.

-A pair of two-kilo hide boots reinforced with steel.

-A tough, magical cloak that's impervious to heat and cold.

Appearance- Silhouetted against the burning passions of war, a figure stands tall, unmoving. His physique is as definitive as the gory victory with which his gruesome hands secure. Woven into his beard is a tapestry of blood, proclaiming the legendary tales of the countless scars adorning the sacred weapon, known as Gonad. For weapon he is, heated and hammered in the unquenchable fires of battle.

Pure unadulterated muscle. Lean muscle that ripples under his flesh like the waves of the ocean. He has muscles on his muscles. Feet Muscles. Finger muscles. Gooch muscles. A grisly body resembling tanned granite that might as well have been chiseled by the gods. Bulging veins, thick and course. Tendons like steel cords. Fingers like blunt iron rods. Long, sinewy limbs crafted for naught but the deliverance of phenomenal destruction. His enormous yet supple frame moves with a primal grace, the likes of which are comparable only to the untamed beasts of the wild.

His body is riddled with the innumerable wounds left by his combative livelihood. There are hundreds upon hundreds. Where the scars do not cover his body, coarse manly hair, thick and strong like steel wool, does.
He boasts a great dark gray beard speckled with the blood and bone flakes of his foes, flowing down his freakishly striated chest in thick, oily waves reminiscent of the River Styx. From it emanates the very stench of death and graverot, every bit as inescapable as his piercing glare. Within his single eye resides an undying flame, sizzling hotter than the arse-winds of Satan himself.

Personality- What attributes the primal organism known as "Gonad" bears are no different than the attributes of mother nature herself. Blood-tinged Westerlies carving jagged sluices along the tepid surface of a great and mysterious ocean, whose calm demeanor belies a vast and terrible capability. The wisdom of towering snow-capped mountains, whose interminable experience has been honed over countless millennia of wear and tear. The trepid balance between predator and prey, animal and man, intermingling to form a singular amalgamation of virile life. And yet, he maintains a feature apart from nature. Self-awareness. He lives only for pushing the boundaries of human strength and spirit, forcing himself beyond the utmost limit in extreme combat. He fears not death, nor pain, nor loss, for it is from these things that the vigor and strength of true manhood and honor spring. He revels in the pain, luxuriates in death, and basks in loss. He never will engage in dishonorable practices such as deception, and will not tolerate an unfair fight. Though he may oftentimes appear a comical fool, Gonad is truly just a simple man who very rarely premeditates an action, instead acting from the heart and without hesitation, following only the voice of his soul.



Abilities/Skills- Revered by many as the greatest warrior to have ever lived, Gonad boasts tremendous dynamic and static strength and is capable of overpowering virtually any foe near his size. His base strength is roughly equivalent to that of a large grizzly bear, his speed that of Bruce Lee crossed with Usain Bolt. Above all else the strength in his hands is legendary, and so far no foe, living or dead, has succeeded in breaking his grip. He fights through experience and instinct, capable of reacting to attacks through muscle memory before he consciously registers them. He witholds a vast array of rare and lethal wisdom and is said to know of over one-thousand ways to kill with his bare hands. What's more, Gonad is the supreme master of his own body and can control its functions at will. He uses the full potential of his musculatory system, is able to constrict blood vessels to keep from losing fluids, and can transmit senses other than sight through his visual cortex, along with every other kind of mind over body feat possible. Ripley's Believe It or Not type shit. He's even capable of touching and harming incorporeal or transdimensional entities by virtue of being too ignorant to know that he shouldn't.

Gonad can harness the raw energies of manliness itself, a power known as the Beardforce which only those known as the Beardlords may use. It allows him to scale in physical might that his capabilities may be matched evenly in comparison to those of any foe more powerful than him. The Beardforce lets Gonad dampen or increase his own inertia if an opponent can do the same, increase his mass, heighten his mental and physical faculties, and empower his surroundings with Beardforce. This ability manifests in such a way that accommodates his wrestling moves, I.E, making the ground harder and his weight or falling velocity greater so that a very durable enemy will be grievously harmed by a piledriver, or briefly creating immovable, indestructible platforms of Beardforce in empty space with which to spike an opponent into if there is no ground or floor nearby. He can also use the Beardforce to aid his mobility, using the Beardforce platforms to manouver through air or empty space in leau of the power of flight. This cannot be used to trap or trick, for the Beardforce does not permit sneaky or cowardly tactics. The only time an opponent would need to worry about a Beardforce construct would be when Gonad's about to use a WWE technique, such as a body slam, a suplex, or any other attack that requires a hard surface to be effective. Gonad may also replace his clothing with Beardforce constructs if his power is elevated to a point where steel becomes inconsequential. Despite the supposed versatility of the power, he only ever uses Beardforce bracers for armor. It goes against Gonad's nature to wear excess armaments.

Gonad's power ups are nearly all physical in nature, and as such if an opponent relies heavily upon auxillary abilities, Gonad will be able to easily outmatch them in strength and speed. Think of an armored man with a machine gun facing a naked man wielding only his fists. A good comparison to the Beardforce's application is to think of how physically capable the fistfighter would need to be to stand a perfectly fair chance of beating the armored gunman. Obviously this means that in close range, an enemy who uses powers and technology in addition to martial arts would be at a severe disadvantage in the martial arts category next to Gonad.

Gonad is a one trick pony, a purist. What he lacks in long ranged versatility and multiple complex abilities, he more than makes up for by having all of his strengths accumulated into nothing less than the ultimate form of unarmed martial arts.

Gonad's unarmed strikes are of the highest caliber, and taking into consideration the formidable equalization of the Beardforce, this means no foe in this realm or in any other can easily withstand even one direct hit to a vital point, much like how no human mortal may fairly survive a sword through the torso or a mace to the skull, as Gonad's limbs are surely lethal weapons. The Beardforce is based upon Gonad's perception of an opponent along with the opponent's full latent power, and as such the Beardforce cannot be fooled or bypassed, making it effective against abstract concepts or inanimate objects for so long as Gonad thinks of the thing as a foe or said thing presents a threat. The opposite stands true, however, as Gonad himself wears little armor and will always be equally susceptible to the attacks of any superhuman enemy he faces. Whether it be a normal man with a pickaxe or Superman with a pickaxe, if either buried the point of the weapon in Gonad's skull he would die just the same. If Gonad is facing a group of empowered enemies, his might will be equalized with that of the strongest.

Gonad is a grandmaster of the berserker arts and has an effectively limitless tolerance for pain. He can utilize three different forms of the technique, each one badder than the last. These three forms may be referred to as Semi-Berserk, Full Berserk, and the preeminent Primal State. At his peak, he can generate such strength that his own muscles can tear themselves from his bones. When combined with the ability to create self induced hyposthenia within his body, bringing his muscles to the ultimate point of relaxation, Gonad can then contract them with the greatest amount of force that is physically possible. At the cost of having his very bones shatter from the overwhelming might of his own blows, Gonad can unleash attacks of such immensity that any entity on the receiving end of a direct hit gains an immediate and intimate understanding of what it feels like to be the fetus in a Mexican abortion. In other words, each stage of the berserker increases Gonad's offence at the cost of his defense. His blood flows much faster (hastening blood loss), he becomes considerably more aggressive, and his attacks are just as likely to inflict damage to himself as to the opponent due to the physical strain.

Background- They say when the Barbarian called Gonad Yaksplitter was born, he came into this world bearing a full and mighty beard and had the equivalent muscles of a shaved adult yak. He was born on the battlefield, his infantile but well defined body gushing forth from the womb of his mother and landing in a puddle of blood that had been pooling from the corpse of a nearby enemy. It was in this way that Gonad had first been christened with the blood of his enemies. His mother, Chukka, had broken both legs in the battle and only she and her newborn son had survived the disastrous conflict. It had been a Barbarian war party, sent out from Gonad's home village which lay fifty-five miles East.

Chukka was forced to crawl back using her hands and teeth, bearing Gonad on her back. Only by sustaining young Gonad with the meat of her placenta and the warm milk from her breasts was she able to keep him nourished during the arduous trip back. Using the prodigious length of young Gonad's beard, she was able to fashion a makeshift diaper to keep him from soiling her back. After two months, they managed to return to the village, much to the great joy of Chief Jarvi. Upon being shocked at the sight of Gonad's beard-diaper being removed, he promptly named muscular Gonad after his hefty namesake, and renamed their village after the miracle child. For many ages the Village of Gonad has been renowned for its strength, most often migrating around in the deep Wilderness. Gonad's birth was the very culmination of generations of hard-earned might, his destiny pre-determined by the selective breeding of his ancestors. Their intent? To create the ultimate physical human. And so they did.

Since before he could walk, Gonad was made to train in the berserker arts with a relentless fervor that surpassed common sense. Nearly every minute of every hour of every day of his life he endured the most excruciating physical and mental training imaginable, his talent for unarmed combat pushed well beyond the boundaries of reason. He bears as many scars from his training as he does from battle. Gonad has participated in tens of thousands of battles, ranging from one on one bouts to full scale wars, and from his experience has even created his own fighting style, which he dubbed "Hefty Fist".

As weakness had been beaten out of him at birth, it was not long before he became so well associated with hardship and pain that both feelings became an integral part of his personality. He enjoys agony and difficulty, and carries upon his shoulders the full weight of his village's pride and future. To Gonad, shame and fear are emotions that no longer exist. With adversity drilled into the very core of his being, through unimaginable effort he shaped his mind into an unbreechable iron hull filled with undepletable reserves of determination. Though not by any means distanced from other negative emotions, he still bears them with neither complaint nor angst and has never allowed himself to feel regret.

Gonad now travels the land endlessly, seeking nothing more than worthy opponents to fight. He fights for fighting's sake and for honor, the honor of both himself, and for the honor of those who are unable to defend themselves against the dishonorable.
He has seen countless wars, killed countless enemies, made countless friends. To recount the barbarian's many adventures would be an exercise in futility, for the blood wrought odyssey of Gonad transcends time and experience.

Trivia-

◾Gonad rarely calls people by their actual names, often using their physical appearance to give them a nickname such as Hood Man, Fancy Pants Lady, Pale Man, and Funny Beard. Those who have earned his utmost respect, however, are called by their true name.

◾Gonad's body is so well trained, that with muscle memory he performs isometrics in his sleep.

◾Gonad is almost entirely incapable of learning and/or doing anything that isn't related to combat, training, hunting, and women, the subjects in which he holds enough virtuistic ability to philosophize about. It took him two weeks to learn how to first use a doorknob, and he still hasn't learned how to read even a single word. He is utterly useless outside of his few areas of expertise.

◾Gonad is ambidextrous

◾Gonad's nose has been broken so many times, that all of the cartilage in it has deteriorated. He can push it completely flat against his face. He also has four false teeth crafted from ivory.

◾Gonad rarely travels via boat or ship, opting instead to swim across great bodies of water.

Theme Music-

The Final Hazard

@Bright_Ops@WiseDragonGirl@Terminal

As the smoke cleared, Donny could be seen tearing his overcoat off. It mostly covered his legs, so it had taken the shard bolt. As the coat tumbled away, end over end, Donny was left wearing a crimson button up shirt with suspenders. He absolutely bristled with weapons, various handles and other black leather compartments.
A dark blood stain was slowly spreading down his side. Donny could have wondered how he endured the wound through his bulletproof vest, but at the moment he was intent on finishing off Andy and Fortune.

He might have tried to shoot them then and there, yet...

Something in the area was warping his mind, solidifying his calm bloodlust into a stronger, more visceral urge which overrided his common sense.
He holstered his revolver, let his hands drop to his sides, and began floating towards the medic and knight. His lazy eyes gleamed almost red, gloved fingers flexing in anticipation. In this plane where mind mastered matter, the killer had taken over the professional. In moments he'd be within reach of the duo, tensing for attack.

"Well, well. Awll of a sudden, Ah 'spose Ah'd like tah see yah blood up close. Be a dawll an' hold still..."

TZDL2017.. BUT ON RPGUILD!

@Devil

Hey, as you may have noticed we have a ranking system here. Darndest thing, but I've been unable to proceed further along due to a lack of new blood and willing competitors. I've literally used up whole chat pages over time, asking for ranked fights and yet getting none.

I don't suppose you could ask the entrants if they'd mind this being a ranked tournament? I know I could ask myself, but two mouths are better than one.

TTL: The Final Hazard OOC

@WiseDragonGirl

In Donny's profile it explicitly states he has an eidetic memory. He can't see everyone at once, but he can memorize their positions with nothing more than a glance and shoot the second target the moment he neutralizes the first. He wouldn't stare after somebody he'd just capped when there are other dangerous targets likely to try and avenge their own. He doesn't even need to see them to shoot them. Keep in mind how Fortune totally called his attack out. As demonstrated with Donny's shooting of Graffiti, he unhesitatingly shoots people who try to call their shots. I just thought that there was no need to make a point on that, given how much emphasis is placed on Donny's pragmatism.

Again, Fortune literally delivered an entire one-liner before throwing his sword.

I was already bending Donny's character quite a bit by not simply lagging behind everyone and then shooting them all in the back without pause, and by not shooting Fortune in the head instead of the arm. The way Donny's attacking now at least gives the others half a chance. If I bent him any more he'd snap in half.

TTL: The Final Hazard OOC

@Terminal

Ah, was used to the whole "wait X posts before replying" thing. Good to know.

TTL: The Final Hazard OOC

@WiseDragonGirl

Here's that list I promised. The surprise interrupting revolver shot is by far his signature move, so it's no odd occasion that he used it against Ariett and Fortune. The bastard even shot me once, his own damn creator.



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TTL: The Final Hazard OOC

@WiseDragonGirl

I'll gladly have Donny take hits, but I don't see how it makes sense for him to simply watch as Fortune winds up and chucks a sword, and it isn't a special circumstance neither. I could give you a genuine, legitimate list of posts in my history of playing as Donny where he simply shoots somebody if they give away their intent. I've had him shoot players mid sentence, shoot them the moment they present any kind of threat, shoot them just for being suspicious.

Sure Donny can get hurt, but I'd be breaking character if I started permitting him to make stupid mistakes.

The Final Hazard

@Terminal@Holmishire@Bright_Ops@WiseDragonGirl

There's always plenty of speculation about how deadly Bob Munden would have been in an actual gunfight. A marksman who could split a playing card down the middle, put a neat hole through a bottle cap, and shoot two balloons spaced twelve feet apart so quickly that only one gunshot could be heard. Donny wasn't as fast as Munden. How could you be, when comparing Colt .45 to .454 Casull? For such a big revolver though, Donny didn't slack off.

The moment he saw Fortune bring his sword up, Donny fired off a second shot to blast out the knight's elbow joint, effectively interrupting his attack. Then came the smoke, hiding Donny from sight. Before he came back into view, the group would have just barely enough time to react to a grenade being tossed right back at them, a dark blur hurtling through the midst of the smoke. No, not quite. The grenade was /arching/ out of the smoke, flying around in a wide circle towards the party's right. If they remained where they were, it seemed that the grenade would somehow pass around and behind them...