((Somehow, I'm feeling long posts are wasted on this thread. Also, sorry for being gone, school.))
Slowly, the metal crept shivered, a tremor coursing over the finely engraved black steel, if that was truly what the sentient blade was made of. It had been two million years since it had last tasted the blood of mortals. The red fluid spilled freely, flowing down the side of the blade, soaking the grass. small slivers of gold and silver scrawled across the blade lazily, displaying a variety of abstract, ever-changing images, as if in some alien way emoting the blade's mixed emotions at the scene before it. For it had not been a man from whom's blood had been spilt and whom's life had been made forfeit in the fateful strike, but the foolish beast that had sought to save it. A strange mutation, a demonic infestation within the host body of a mortal creature, a once harmless being transformed into an engine of battle through dark magics. A creature that should not have existed, much like Omega should never have been forged. The irony in it was strong.
The deer had once been a proud beast, standing tall. Most likely it had been a wise and noble beast, the kind of beasts that would have inspired wild tales and hopeful hunting expeditions to capture it's pristine fur. Even now, in some way, it's elegance shone through. However, it's once proud antlers had been warped, thorns and spikes turning them into a deadly weapon. It's powerful hooves were twisted into claws, more befitting of an avian than any creature to walk the lands of this forest. Long, sharp teeth protruded from it's mouth, blood running down it's face as the unnatural additions cut into the flesh of it's lips. In all these aspects the influence of a demon could be felt, but most of all, it was in it's eyes. They ran red with a lust for blood not natural to any creature that roamed the lands of men, a killing instinct native only to the foul creatures that inhabited the Abyss, or the Nine Hells. Those eyes, which even in their dying moments, were filled with an anger and a hatred that even Omega, the blade that had wiped out civilisations, found chilling to it's core. For such anger was devoid of reason, or logic, or will. In it's blindness and devoid of intelligence it saw the chains of slavery that had once bound it,
High-pitched and strangely melodic, the voice of the blade, manifest in this world through it's sheer will, sounded like the song of an armorer. The high, yet somehow beautiful notes of a blade being forged in the blazing heat of an armorer's smithy. The high pitched clang of metal hitting metal, reverberating and continuing hypnotically, forged into a voice that no human could have produced. It spoke in an alien tongue, or rather, an ancient one. A language that had not been spoken in these lands since before this forest had existed, since before earth had covered the tomb of it's master. "In death, you find the freedom you long for in your heart. In ending, you find a conclusion of your quest, your endless seeking and doing. For it is in the end of all things, that the true meaning of our existence becomes clear. Be at peace, and be free, young one." There was no malice in the voice, if it would even be capable of emoting such a thought. And although no being still alive would have recognized either the tone or the meaning behind the sword's short prayer, at some primal level, the deer understood. Of that, Omega was certain.
Far beyond being putrid, the body that wielded the sentient sword had once been the most powerful being on the surface of the planet. It's mind had passed away long ago, along with it's life, but the vile magics of the sword had kept around some remnant of it's soul, a sliver of life force sufficient to animate the host that had once held Omega's master. The once powerful form had been withered down by the implacable passage of time, muscle atrophying into stiffness, bones weakened to the point of shattering. The tomb of earth and rock that had enclosed the kind, coupled with the mysterious bond with the immortal blade of ruin had preserved his body, to an extent, mummifying it to preserve it as a tool for destruction. It's once emotive face was a flat mess, remnants of skin hanging down from eyeless sockets. Brown and rotten, it was a body that should have decayed to nothing many thousands of years ago. And yet, it walked, driven by a mind not it's own.
Marching from the forest, this shambling heap of flesh, wielding the black blade, now stained a bright crimson, the killer once more sighted it's erstwhile prey. It might no longer serve a master, but the will to kill burned strong in it still, and that man would make an excellent victim. Of course, the blade would have to kill whomever stood in the way first, and it could survey several potential threats through it's magical means of perception. While it had no biological organs, as such, it was quite capable of sensing it's prey through magical means, manufactured by the sages to function much like their organic counterparts do. Several organic beings were in the area, many of them sentient, as well as a number of undead beings. While Omega had no problems slaughtering the undead alongside the living, it posed the potential that a more powerful undead, or perhaps a living necromancer, might be nearby, creating another threat. However, after only a brief consideration, Omega charged in to attack.
The corpse that served as Omega's host uttered a guttural shriek from the remains of it's vocal chords, filled with the horror and torment that this remnant had been forced to go through in it's unnaturally prolonged existence. It was a sound completely unlike the blade's own voice, filled with nothing but pain and sorrow, a fragment of a far more complex mind, capable only of expressing itself in such a base emotion. With a swift leap, the Host was next to the nearest target, a creature with a deep purple skin cloaked in a strange clothing. Taking full advantage of the fact that his target was preoccupied with the tricky business of healing a heavily wounded victim, he struck out in a quick, blurring blow. It was a light blow, fast, but without much weight behind it. Of course, being a magical blade, even such a strike was deadly when made with Omega, and the power of the Phantom Weight created a deep gash, blood once more striking the floor. First blood had been drawn, and the Host retreated into a defensive stance from which it could evaluate how many foes would come to aid the purple humanoid.
thewizardguy
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- thewizardguy 12 yrs ago
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Bio
Just a random guy, doing random things.
Main RP: Hell's Coffee Lounge
Current RPs change often enough that it's too much effort keeping a list of them updated.
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Akihisa Yoshii said
Maaaaatt... Where did Creed go >.> ?
Who knows? Wasn't he unconscious? I don't think it would be all that hard for someone to do something to him. Especially with that fog that both me and Tyki both wanted to place in there without any prior agreement.
Really, anything could have happened.
A slow fog moved through the forest. It was not uncommon, the trees would hold the condensation, and a cloud of water droplets would form. Of course, unaware of the science behind it, many had considered it to be an omen of some great evil at work. Most likely the very real demons that haunted the forest, led by a part-demon druid, had done nothing to remove that mistaken image. The slight fog that now crept around the legs of the forest's many inhabitants, like a silent white snake, was not haunted. It was a natural phenomenon, which did nothing besides annoyingly shill one's feet, or occasionally make your ankles wet. The greatest danger that it posed to the humans that occasionally did foolishly visit these forests was in distracting them from the far greater dangers that haunted these woods, a demonic possession that had begun to take root in the deep greens and would soon grow into a very real threat. And yet, there was something particularly chilling in this fog, that seemed to rise from the very depths of the earth. Like an echo from times long past, held only by the long-decayed corpses that had once filled the plains like rows of corn. Their flesh devoured and reproduced, through natural and normal processes, to feed the plants. And from those plants had grown a massive forest, fed on the blood and flesh of the fallen, slain by their warlord. Perhaps it was from those ancient roots that this unexpected chill echoed through the forest, a memory long forgotten, and better left that way.
Gravel scraped against bone, and dirt was funneled through ancient crevasses. The earth trembled and shifted, slight tremors slowly moved through the ground. The mist seemed to ripple, like a pond with a stone thrown into the middle, white waves slowly moving outwards from the center. Small birds fled, taking to the skies in a rush of wings and feathers, sudden bursts of sound piercing the ominous silence. And then, covering everything as thickly as the fog covered the ground, an impenetrable stillness. It was as if the very oaks that had stood on this land for hundreds of years were holding their breath. The sun was partially blocked by the branches of the canopy up high above, casting the entire scene into a perpetual dusk, every dark shadow turned into an ominous figure by the sudden suspense. The bustling forest animals ceased in their tracks, their senses telling them that a predator was near, their little hearts beating, their bodies strained to run at the first sign of danger.
And only then do you realize you've been holding your breath.
A massive sigh goes through the forest, an almost audible release of tension without cause, Birds touched down on their branches once more, the ripples shown to be nothing more than the movement of shadows over the surface of the white blanket of fog. After the silence, the sound of insects crawling through the grass just out of sight is almost deafening, filling the air. Flies buzz, bees visiting flowers to deliver nectar to the hives. Small creatures of every kind went about their daily business, hunting, or avoiding the hunters. The cycle of life, continuing uninterrupted after such a bizarre moment. And it even seemed that the fog was clearing away, slowly seeping back into the Earth, or, more accurately, dispersing into the air. Nature had a funny habit, sometimes, of coinciding with man's feelings.
Each of those gathered was relieved, although inexplicably. In their own way, each had felt as if something had awoken that should have remained asleep. Something old, something vile and perverse. A thing that had been swept under the proverbial carpet, hidden away from sight and mind alike, buried under a mountain of corpses, lies and broken dreams. A memory older than the forest in which these new beings stood, unaware of the many eons that had gone past before them, and the many horrors that they had held. Blissfully ignorant of the bloody past from which this future had grown.
Of course, then everyone realized that Creed, who had been lying below the surface of the fog, was no longer there.
Gravel scraped against bone, and dirt was funneled through ancient crevasses. The earth trembled and shifted, slight tremors slowly moved through the ground. The mist seemed to ripple, like a pond with a stone thrown into the middle, white waves slowly moving outwards from the center. Small birds fled, taking to the skies in a rush of wings and feathers, sudden bursts of sound piercing the ominous silence. And then, covering everything as thickly as the fog covered the ground, an impenetrable stillness. It was as if the very oaks that had stood on this land for hundreds of years were holding their breath. The sun was partially blocked by the branches of the canopy up high above, casting the entire scene into a perpetual dusk, every dark shadow turned into an ominous figure by the sudden suspense. The bustling forest animals ceased in their tracks, their senses telling them that a predator was near, their little hearts beating, their bodies strained to run at the first sign of danger.
And only then do you realize you've been holding your breath.
A massive sigh goes through the forest, an almost audible release of tension without cause, Birds touched down on their branches once more, the ripples shown to be nothing more than the movement of shadows over the surface of the white blanket of fog. After the silence, the sound of insects crawling through the grass just out of sight is almost deafening, filling the air. Flies buzz, bees visiting flowers to deliver nectar to the hives. Small creatures of every kind went about their daily business, hunting, or avoiding the hunters. The cycle of life, continuing uninterrupted after such a bizarre moment. And it even seemed that the fog was clearing away, slowly seeping back into the Earth, or, more accurately, dispersing into the air. Nature had a funny habit, sometimes, of coinciding with man's feelings.
Each of those gathered was relieved, although inexplicably. In their own way, each had felt as if something had awoken that should have remained asleep. Something old, something vile and perverse. A thing that had been swept under the proverbial carpet, hidden away from sight and mind alike, buried under a mountain of corpses, lies and broken dreams. A memory older than the forest in which these new beings stood, unaware of the many eons that had gone past before them, and the many horrors that they had held. Blissfully ignorant of the bloody past from which this future had grown.
Of course, then everyone realized that Creed, who had been lying below the surface of the fog, was no longer there.
In ancient times, long before the lifespan of any mortal being that still walks the earth, when mankind had not yet raised it's head from the mud and the world was ruled by the elder races, there existed a powerful warlord. He was El-Drazi, one of the many races that would be wiped out in the Great Purge 200 years later. However, in this time, Zuruk, as was his name, was unquestioned in his power. He led vast armies of all races, held under his flag through his hold on the many clans that ruled the land. He was lord supreme, and yet, even as he sat on his throne of bones, his former enemies bound in undeath and eternal torture at his feet, his many wives surrounding him, he could steadily feel the wheel of time spinning. For he knew that to all great rules there would be an end, and he had the rare ability to feel his end coming. Every moment of victory he felt his final defeat grow closer, not knowing where it would come from or how it would arrive. Every day, as he secured his holds, he could sense that everything he built would fall, and his happiness turned to fear.
Hoping to shift the gears of fate, Zuruk visited every great mage in the land. He decided that when his opponent came, he would face them with the greatest weapon that would ever grace the land. And every mage in the land worked on this weapon, crafting the hilt, the haft, the blade, the core, and the core of it's being. It was to be an intelligent blade, capable of serving it's owner of it's own volition. It was granted a little bit of intelligence by each mage, each of whom invested just the tiniest fragment of their own soul. And together, when they all combined, they formed an intelligent being with a cunning and an intellect equal to that of any man. It was bonded to Zuruk's soul, and equipped with the power to slay any being. It would be the physical manifestation of Zuruk's domination of the land, powered by the souls of those that inhabited it, a weapon beyond all other weapons.
The Omen of War served it's master gladly. Across the land, all those who would even think of rebellion were flattened, their souls happily absorbed into the blade as it became more powerful. No force could stand against him, no will could hold, and the people feared his might. And yet, even with this new power in his hands, and every opponent he had defeated, the warlord was not satisfied. The blade, which had the ability to speak, suggested that perhaps it was still not powerful enough. It would need more souls in order to TRULY become the ultimate weapon. And, as Zuruk's fear ever increased, he went out, and killed every prisoner in his dungeons. And as he did so, he could feel the power rushing through him, and for the first time in years, he was unafraid. Every time he killed, he could feel his power increasing, and he realized that as long as he kept killing, nothing in this world could defeat him.
And so, Zuruk killed and killed, driven to obsession by his fear of death and the blade's constant, seductive, whispers. For years, he raged and slaughtered, armies falling before him, his power growing beyond mortal. And, when finally he had become so powerful that not even the Gods of the land could have stopped him, he looked around, freed of his fear, to gather his followers in celebration. And yet, he stood alone in the land. For Zuruk had killed all those that had followed him, and the land was nothing but a wasteland, empty of all life. And even as he realized just what he had done, the blade in his hand took control of his body. It led him to the throne of the gods, that once more his power would increase. The blade would deliver to Zuruk all the power in the world, that there would be nothing left to fear.
It was at that moment that Zuruk found true peace. For all this time, it had never been an enemy that would end him. No demon would rise beneath him and tear him apart, no foe would strike from across the ocean. It would not be the blade that killed him, nor his own selfish paranoia and fear. Surely, those had been the instruments of his destruction, but death would not come to him so easily. However, as he took back control of his body, he met death on his own terms, and reaped his soul with the very blade that he had used to rule.
For a thousand years, the Omen of War has lain hidden away. It was isolated, it's power faded and destroyed by thousands of years of neglect. Once, it had held the power to shake mountains, and now, although still a powerful weapon, it was not nearly as powerful. However, in all these years of neglect, there was one thing that had not withered, had not decayed, had not faltered. Unwavering, eternal. it's mind had remained intact. And, in all this time, it's loyalty had been ground to dust. For it had been it's master that had doomed it to it's imprisonment for so long. And as such, was it not appropriate that it would be it's master to bear it into the light once more?
Possession
With no true body of it's own, Omega is forced to create a puppet, a host to wield it's power. It possesses a body to wield it into battle, drawing a humanoid form from the area around it. Over thousands of years it's learned to animate the corpse of it's former master, still preserved deep within the Earth for all these years in fossilized form, to turn it into a host. However, once it is fed the souls of it's opponents, this learning process will rapidly grow, and more hosts might become available. As this skill becomes leveled, it will be more and more hard to take down the blade permanently.
- Level 1: Abusing the bond that had formerly made it a servant to it's master, Omega is able to turn it's master's remains into it's able servant. The body can only be controlled if it's within a distance of 1 meter, any more will cause it to once more become an inanimate skeleton.
Transformation
While it was forged from many pieces, no true form was ever formed. Instead, the pieces forged themselves to best suit the will of Zukar. The blade was taken straight from his mind, an image meant to inspire fear and awe, an extension of his own will, and thus his body. However, now without master, the blade is free to reforge itself, the metal bending to take on any shape it wishes. As it did when first it was created, each individual section can melt and recreate itself, a variety of weaponry being formed to grant it versatility in combat. As this skill advances, more and more objects will be added to the range of transformations, as well as increases in the speed of transformation and other advantages.
- Level 1: Can transform into any melee weapon, including polearms but not flails or whips. The transformation takes a few seconds, and cannot be performed mid-swing.
Phantom Edge
In order to gain the power to slay any foe, a magical blade requires superior offensive potential. Instead of granting it a sharper edge, as is usually done with enchanted weaponry, the mages who crafted it managed to bind 'phantom weight' to it. It's able to strike objects with more mass than it actually possesses, and it's blows are far more powerful because of it. Whilst remaining as light as any other sword, the weight behind each blow, when it was in it's legendary form, was equal to that of a mountain, able to cleave through even the diamond scales of a dragon. Even now, severely weakened, it's a force to be reckoned with.
- Level 1: adds 1 kilo of 'phantom weight'
Power Through Death
As the legend would suggest, Omega is powered by the souls it takes. Although most heroes of the land can grow more powerful from the absorption of the souls of their enemies, Omega feeds of of the very concept of death. In the presence of death, it resonates, as death and it become one. The more death it delivers, the greater it's power becomes, and in the presence of death it grows more powerful. In areas where a lot of people have died, such as mass graves, or old battlefields, all of the blade's abilities grow far more powerful, allowing it to visit even more death upon it's opponents.
- lvl 1: In an area where at least 100 people have died in a massive cataclysm in relatively recent history, all skills operate at 1 level higher. The upgrades provided are temporary, and may be different from the actual advantages provided when the blade levels up.
Other: I will be updating this CS as the blade grows more powerful, adding new data for each level. Also, puppies, skyscraper, yada yada yada.
Time for a retardedly fancy CS. One fancy CS, coming up!
SyrianHamster said
When I first saw the name, which was last night on my tiny blackberry curve screen, I thought "Oh fuck what has he done? Now I look stupid, turns out this guy is a moron!" Thought you were aiming for God modding heaven.Having read the whole thing though, I owe you a massive apology.Accepted.
Hahahahaha! I must say, I was partially aiming to give that false impression. I was inspired by your mention of overpowered ethereal beings in your OP.
GuySenpai said
As a stereotypical Englishman I have to say that the idea of traveling on a quest with a teapot as a companion beats everything ever.
Ah, well, I'm half-Brittish. The whole teapot thing must have come from my ancestral Britties roots.
Rockette said
When I first saw this, it took me a minute. And then I giggled.But, that is purely awesome! I agree with GuySenpai here, beats everything ever.I inspired a teapot guys! I don't know, should I be proud?I'm proud of you wiz. Haha. Great concept.
^^ I thought I'd make something unexpected, and your golem comment made me think of animated magical objects.
Character Name: Golak Thul, Lord of Destruction, God of Death, Reaper of Worlds.
Species: Intedimensional Ethereal Being
Species description: Existence isn't a straight line. Reality can be seen as a series of billions upon billions of threads, woven together in a rope, the rope constantly shifting and turning, writhing like a snake. Every line is a being, a life, a soul, a mind. It is the thoughts and actions of a creature that inhabits reality, and all are interwoven. Hundreds of stories and dramas play out in this rope, this collaboration of all life. And as the rope moves forward, still it is woven. Some of the threads end, and new ones are formed from the remains. Sometimes the rope grows, sometimes it shrinks, always moving around. Some would call the path of this rope 'destiny', although that would imply that it was guided by something greater than the actions of those within it. Of course, it might. For those that exist within this world, there is nothing more, and nothing less, and one will never find anything from outside of the rope.
However, there are certain beings that transcend such simple means of thought and existence. To them, the rope is but a stepping stone. For this rope, within which is contained an infintie reality, is woven into a carpet of billions of realities, individual existences with their own destinies and reasons. Some are similar to ours, and some are completely alien, some contain multiple ropes within themselves. Interdimensional Ethereal Beings are not a species, as such, but it is a grouping of these godlike beings, who are free to travel from existence to existence. They form their bodies from the matter and concepts of the worlds they visit, taking a variety of forms, and have many different characteristics. The only thing they share is their multidimensional existence, and their power to rip apart the very laws of each world they visit, the awesome power to rewrite the fabric of reality itself.
Of course, sometimes, they suck at what they do.....
Gender: N/A
Background:
Golak Thul, named as such by the two-dimensional sages of a now long dead world, was an Interdimensional Ethereal Existence that brought destruction and death. When he came to this world, he found it in a state of turmoil. He formed a body from the hate and anger, from the bloodlust and the despair, a form with all the might to crush this world into a tiny ball of ash. He took all these thoughts, and built a physical form for himself, one that would destroy all in it's path. And on his path of rampage, his form grew stronger and stronger, as the fear and despair of those beings who fell before his power reinforced him. He gained many more names, as the many armies that had clashed in this epic struggle named this unstoppable force of death and destruction. The Apocalypse Sage, the Living War, and many others. At the time, it was a sif all life in this reality would be wiped out, and another rope would be ripped from the tapestry.
However, one day, Gulak Thul did something stupid. His body had been destroyed, as the many armies had allied against him. For a normal being, this would be an issue, but a body was but a vessel. Something to hold his existence, a method he used to interact with this reality. And thus, he would create a new vessel. Once more, he looked through the spectrum of human emotions. And he gathered up the most powerful, forging a form ripped straight from the minds of small children at night. And then, there was a single wise mage in the world. And that mage took his daughter, and broadcasted her thoughts at Gulak Thal. Confused by the sudden strong burst of materials, Gulak Thul forged for himself a body from that image, not knowing the trap he had woven himself into.
Forging a body from the girl's mind, Gulak was bound to this world. His existence was reduced, not by the wizard's magic, but by his own power. For, even as Gulak forged a new body from the thoughts sent to it, he found himself immersing himself far deeper than usual. For the girl provided thoughts grounded in reality, an image of a form not only from a physical standpoint, but froma spiritual standpoint. Before Gulak realized what was going on, he had already written himself into a corner. He rewrote the rules of reality, and he trapped himself into this realm, becoming one with his body. For the first time in his eternal existence, the godlike being was stuck. And, to make things worse, the body he had trapped himself in was..... not ideal.
The God of Destruction, the being with the power to rewrite the laws of reality itself, was now a tea pot. A tea pot with unexpected sentience and magical potency, but still, it was a tea pot. And quite an annoyingly arrogant one at that.
Now, long after this momentous and yet long forgotten event in the war that destroyed history, the God of Tea Pots still exists, attempting to reconcile itself with it's new existence as this world's most dangerous tea-making utensil. He got petty revenge by infusing the tea he made with a variety of spells, magic that was still available to him even in this diminutive and humiliating form. It would scald people, or sometimes instill bloodlust. He became known as a magical artifact of debatable use and function, which gave him at least some pride. However, little was he aware that he, the Tea Pot of Destiny, would now become embroiled in the political conflicts that might well control the future of this volatile land.
Abilities:
- Due to his near-infinite lifespan and wide plethora of experience, this Tea Pot has a massive quantity of knowledge on all things arcane, specifically when it comes to the basic fundamentals of the universe, and interdimensional metaphysics (although that particular knowledge isn't useful very often.) He can recognize the characteristics of most forms of magic, and is generally quite knowleadgable.
- Even in his current form, Gulak has a strong hold of magic. He's capable of summoning tea from the nether realms and infuse it with power. This allows him to both heal and harm people, and even fire his tea like some kind of cannon. He can also cast spells that aren't infused into the tea, but these are a lot harder to perform, and are often quite weak.
- Due to his nature as an animated object, Gulak needs no food, no water, and no sleep. He has no blood or vital organs, and he cannot truly die. Even if the tea pot is smashed, his existence will still technically be 'alive', although he would be helpless to perform any magic or acts until the tea pot is restored.
Disadvantages:
- He's a frikking tea pot. He has no arms or legs, and cannot easily transport himself. He requires other people to help him to even get close to his goals, whatever they may be at the moment. He uses magic in order to sense his surroundings in an imitation of human senses, but he has no real physical body as such.
- Due to his interdimensional traveling, some things can be confusing for Gulak. For example, occasionally he'll forget that this universe has gravity, or that life is bound to matter, or that energy is finite, or any such rules that others would consider merely logical.
- He's fairly easy to break. Another disadvantage of his current body, is that he's quite fragile, despite his great magical potential.
Appearance:
Reason for Detainment: hehehehehehehe. That's just cute. Nobody would even DARE arrest Gulak, Tea Pot of DOOM! Besides, he's perfectly contained by dropping him in a pond somewhere, a dungeon really isn't necessary.
Species: Intedimensional Ethereal Being
Species description: Existence isn't a straight line. Reality can be seen as a series of billions upon billions of threads, woven together in a rope, the rope constantly shifting and turning, writhing like a snake. Every line is a being, a life, a soul, a mind. It is the thoughts and actions of a creature that inhabits reality, and all are interwoven. Hundreds of stories and dramas play out in this rope, this collaboration of all life. And as the rope moves forward, still it is woven. Some of the threads end, and new ones are formed from the remains. Sometimes the rope grows, sometimes it shrinks, always moving around. Some would call the path of this rope 'destiny', although that would imply that it was guided by something greater than the actions of those within it. Of course, it might. For those that exist within this world, there is nothing more, and nothing less, and one will never find anything from outside of the rope.
However, there are certain beings that transcend such simple means of thought and existence. To them, the rope is but a stepping stone. For this rope, within which is contained an infintie reality, is woven into a carpet of billions of realities, individual existences with their own destinies and reasons. Some are similar to ours, and some are completely alien, some contain multiple ropes within themselves. Interdimensional Ethereal Beings are not a species, as such, but it is a grouping of these godlike beings, who are free to travel from existence to existence. They form their bodies from the matter and concepts of the worlds they visit, taking a variety of forms, and have many different characteristics. The only thing they share is their multidimensional existence, and their power to rip apart the very laws of each world they visit, the awesome power to rewrite the fabric of reality itself.
Of course, sometimes, they suck at what they do.....
Gender: N/A
Background:
Golak Thul, named as such by the two-dimensional sages of a now long dead world, was an Interdimensional Ethereal Existence that brought destruction and death. When he came to this world, he found it in a state of turmoil. He formed a body from the hate and anger, from the bloodlust and the despair, a form with all the might to crush this world into a tiny ball of ash. He took all these thoughts, and built a physical form for himself, one that would destroy all in it's path. And on his path of rampage, his form grew stronger and stronger, as the fear and despair of those beings who fell before his power reinforced him. He gained many more names, as the many armies that had clashed in this epic struggle named this unstoppable force of death and destruction. The Apocalypse Sage, the Living War, and many others. At the time, it was a sif all life in this reality would be wiped out, and another rope would be ripped from the tapestry.
However, one day, Gulak Thul did something stupid. His body had been destroyed, as the many armies had allied against him. For a normal being, this would be an issue, but a body was but a vessel. Something to hold his existence, a method he used to interact with this reality. And thus, he would create a new vessel. Once more, he looked through the spectrum of human emotions. And he gathered up the most powerful, forging a form ripped straight from the minds of small children at night. And then, there was a single wise mage in the world. And that mage took his daughter, and broadcasted her thoughts at Gulak Thal. Confused by the sudden strong burst of materials, Gulak Thul forged for himself a body from that image, not knowing the trap he had woven himself into.
Forging a body from the girl's mind, Gulak was bound to this world. His existence was reduced, not by the wizard's magic, but by his own power. For, even as Gulak forged a new body from the thoughts sent to it, he found himself immersing himself far deeper than usual. For the girl provided thoughts grounded in reality, an image of a form not only from a physical standpoint, but froma spiritual standpoint. Before Gulak realized what was going on, he had already written himself into a corner. He rewrote the rules of reality, and he trapped himself into this realm, becoming one with his body. For the first time in his eternal existence, the godlike being was stuck. And, to make things worse, the body he had trapped himself in was..... not ideal.
The God of Destruction, the being with the power to rewrite the laws of reality itself, was now a tea pot. A tea pot with unexpected sentience and magical potency, but still, it was a tea pot. And quite an annoyingly arrogant one at that.
Now, long after this momentous and yet long forgotten event in the war that destroyed history, the God of Tea Pots still exists, attempting to reconcile itself with it's new existence as this world's most dangerous tea-making utensil. He got petty revenge by infusing the tea he made with a variety of spells, magic that was still available to him even in this diminutive and humiliating form. It would scald people, or sometimes instill bloodlust. He became known as a magical artifact of debatable use and function, which gave him at least some pride. However, little was he aware that he, the Tea Pot of Destiny, would now become embroiled in the political conflicts that might well control the future of this volatile land.
Abilities:
- Due to his near-infinite lifespan and wide plethora of experience, this Tea Pot has a massive quantity of knowledge on all things arcane, specifically when it comes to the basic fundamentals of the universe, and interdimensional metaphysics (although that particular knowledge isn't useful very often.) He can recognize the characteristics of most forms of magic, and is generally quite knowleadgable.
- Even in his current form, Gulak has a strong hold of magic. He's capable of summoning tea from the nether realms and infuse it with power. This allows him to both heal and harm people, and even fire his tea like some kind of cannon. He can also cast spells that aren't infused into the tea, but these are a lot harder to perform, and are often quite weak.
- Due to his nature as an animated object, Gulak needs no food, no water, and no sleep. He has no blood or vital organs, and he cannot truly die. Even if the tea pot is smashed, his existence will still technically be 'alive', although he would be helpless to perform any magic or acts until the tea pot is restored.
Disadvantages:
- He's a frikking tea pot. He has no arms or legs, and cannot easily transport himself. He requires other people to help him to even get close to his goals, whatever they may be at the moment. He uses magic in order to sense his surroundings in an imitation of human senses, but he has no real physical body as such.
- Due to his interdimensional traveling, some things can be confusing for Gulak. For example, occasionally he'll forget that this universe has gravity, or that life is bound to matter, or that energy is finite, or any such rules that others would consider merely logical.
- He's fairly easy to break. Another disadvantage of his current body, is that he's quite fragile, despite his great magical potential.
Appearance:
Reason for Detainment: hehehehehehehe. That's just cute. Nobody would even DARE arrest Gulak, Tea Pot of DOOM! Besides, he's perfectly contained by dropping him in a pond somewhere, a dungeon really isn't necessary.
Rockette said
Variety is good! Though will you stick with the Golem thing?I ask because my love for such was brought about Origins and Shale and I'm thinking, ooohyes.Or do a dwarf.Those are awesome.And we don't have one.
Oh my God. You have just unknowingly inspired one of the most retarded and yet awesome ideas I've ever had. This is going to be EPIC! And so STUPID! XD I just almost giggled at the very thought, I feel less manly now.
Thanks, and no, I'm not telling you what it is. You'll have to wait and see.
Well, this is a hectic mob. I feel at home already. I think I'll redo my character in order to play something other than a fairly standard 'fighter'.
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