The Ratings War III: Republic of Heaven (Second Round Finals)

[Ultrajoe]

Act 1: Fall

Chapter 2: Pure

-The beginning. Before it all.-


?Yeah, can I get just a quarter pounder please?. I don?t know why I say please, it?s not like she doesn?t hear the same order 500 times a day. I?m paying her, right? Doesn?t that conclude the proceedings? I?m hardly going to thank her for her winning attitude, pleasing outlook and care to appearance, because the ***** looks like a porcupine died on her head and acts like one died in her ass. That?s funny, I should tell that one to Stuart when we get back to the table. I can?t help a tiny snicker, and miss prickle-knickers shoots me more venom with a gaze than the spiders lodged where her eyebrows should be could produce.

To be fair, I?m only taking the piss because she?s as grumpy as all balls and is taking it out on everyone else, trudging back and forth to get my order slower than a senior?s sack race. With feminine grace she *plunks* my drink down forcefully enough to pop the lid off partially, giving me a gum-chewing-stare challenge, daring comment, and beckons the next unlucky patron over to bask in her aura of sunshine. Honestly, I don?t care much, today is too damn good to let some menstrual angst splatter obscure the view. Ugh, not an awesome visual. Funny, though.

Stuart likes my laugh, he?s the kind of person who loves to see other people smile. To be honest, it can annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but when it?s worth it it?s worth it. If it?s not a joke it?s an act, if it?s not an act it?s a song. Right now he?s listening to my appraisal of our serving-beast and her roguish demeanor; ?I?d hit it? He says, nodding appraisingly, ?Sure, she might act like she?s several drinks short of sober, but deep down she?s just looking for love?. I take a bite of my burger and wait for the punchline, because it wouldn?t be Stuart if there wasn?t one, but he just takes a bite of his Big Mac. He has a fondness for big burgers that is reflected in a slight softness around the edges. ?What, you?d seriously try to date that sack of unhappy?? I ask. Stuart looks at me in mock horror, putting down his burger indignantly ?Where?d you get that idea?? He demands ?I only said I?d hit her. A doorframe would be me first choice of weapon?

Oh man, classic... I snort my coke out of my nose and we both dissolve into fits of snickering laughter. I know it?s wrong, but the way he tells jokes is just so right, and we both sit there in immature giggles, laughing at one another?s laughter, until the hilarious thing is that we?re laughing at the fact that there?s nothing funny to laugh at. Come on; don?t say you?ve never done it. Personally, I think it?s the best kind of laughter there is, and it always makes me laugh out loud. Whahahahahaha, Classic.

We banter without thinking for another fifteen minutes, before Stuart heads off to his job. Work, my work (or lack thereof) troubles me, because I get the feeling I should really have a job, and I?m in that state of wishing one would fall into my lap. I just want to be able to say ?Going to Work?, because for some reason the idea fills me with a warm thrill. Stuart reckons I?m just overcompensating for a complete lack of maturity in all other parts of my life. I laughed when he said it, but it still stung a bit. He also reckons I?m trying to impress someone.

He?s right.

Spoiler: Behind the Visor

Timeline: You have to start at the top, to fall. I don't want you to fight 'Eviljoe'. I want you to fight Eviljoe as a person, a product and a monster. For that, you need to understand him. That means First Person. A chapter a day, for as many days as i have (I'll cut it to fit). Enjoy.
First Person: I've always wanted to try it, actually, and i can't think of a better place to use it than the gradual decline of someone we can relate to. When it comes to building a connection, you can't do much better than being, in a sense, that person. I can only hope you come to know our Average Joe, and by the same token, Eviljoe.
Young: Teenagers are a little crazy by default, and it's something we all know about. I also figured that a lot of the other people in the ratings war would be able to relate... and it lets me make immature porcupine jokes.

 

[Zemalac]

I'm in, and I'll have my character in sometime soon. Definately within the week. I'm out of state at the moment, and thus internet might be a little hard to come by. I'll manage, though.

Been looking forward to this one. I know exactly who my character is, too.

 

[RagnorakTres]

This has always looked interesting. May I join?

Side note: I lurked the second, and may I say, Khedive, that that last post was of Heinlein's level at his finest. Truly compelling.

 

[Dastardos]

I'm going to attempt to make a new character because apparently the story/character I had was to offensive, and contained "To much mindless violence, and pointless swearing, with not enough masculinity"

So I don't know what the hell my new character is going to be.

I had that one planned for a long time.

I'll try to have a new one up as soon as possible.

 

[The Sorrow]

I'm going to attempt to make a new character because apparently the story/character I had was to offensive, and contained "To much mindless violence, and pointless swearing, with not enough masculinity"

So I don't know what the hell my new character is going to be.

I had that one planned for a long time.

I'll try to have a new one up as soon as possible.

Who told you that?

 

[Dastardos]

I'm going to attempt to make a new character because apparently the story/character I had was to offensive, and contained "To much mindless violence, and pointless swearing, with not enough masculinity"

So I don't know what the hell my new character is going to be.

I had that one planned for a long time.

I'll try to have a new one up as soon as possible.

Who told you that?

Quite a few people in Escapist IRC

 

[wesdabigman]

Spoiler: Character Sheet

Name: Elsewise Ipswitch
Nickname: The Dead Warrior
Build: Shapeless, almost looks like an amoeba stuck in a trenchcoat, about 5 and a half feet in height
Eyes: Blue
Skin: Pale
Age: As old as the hills.
Clothing: Suit over most his body, with his head wrapped like one might wrap someone injured, boots, and gloves.

Weapons- Two blades, one, a long dagger that he has gained great ability over time with. The other, a needle with thread.

Unusual abilities: One, the blade: Time has given him hand-eye coordination beyond that of mortal man. His shapeless body allows him to move with ruthless efficiency and indeterminable motion, making him a deadly fighter. Two, the needle and thread: He keeps it near him at all times. It is theorized that it is the source of his strength. Crazy, yes, but he believes in it.

Back-story: An experiment in the advancement of science gone horribly wrong, a creature of unknown shape and function, someone presumed dead a long time ago. Went into hiding a long time ago, hoping for peace to last him the rest of his days... no matter how long that may be?

Foreword: I really hate my own writing and I dislike my own characters most of the time, thought that doesn't mean I enjoy writing for them. However, every once in a while, I make an exception of a character that I truly like as a human being and ideal, one that I enjoy writing for and explore the bounds of their character through the course of the story. And then he got beat up in the first Ratings War by a couple of people impersonating the Capitalist System...

Vengeance shall be mine... I crave your criticism so, please bring it on.

The Beginning

One came to his door. A man in a suit and tie, carrying a suitcase. Probably a salesman. He hoped the last one might tell his friends to stay away, Guess not. Nothing a few scare tactics wouldn?t solve, he supposed. He tried his best to sound like a normal man, but the thought only filled him with disgust in his own form as he grumbled.

?Mmmm??

?I?m a Jehovah?s follower, sir. Here to spread some good news.? The voice echoed coldly, without emotion or tone.

?Isn?t that ?Jehovah?s witness??? His own voice was hoarse and unnatural.

?Not quite??

Suddenly, a fist ruptured through the front door and wrapped around Elsewise?s throat. ?I have a rather important job for you to do, Mr. Ipswitch??

Stupid, stupid, should have acted first. He smashed the arm at the wrist, an act that should?ve broken his arm in two. Should?ve, yet the grip on his neck only tightened. He pulled the door open and smashed the man?s head into the door. It didn?t matter if he saw his face now. He wouldn?t live to leave this house anyway. He was small, gangly, not at all as expected. The man, merely smiling, had a hole in his head from a nail left in his door. No blood dripped from his skull. He lifted Elsewise off the ground by the throat and slammed into the floor of the entry. The house was empty and bare with only two things in the room: A needle and a dagger. Elsewise smashed the man across his skull, forcing him to release his grip. He leapt off the ground and dove for the needle. He held it in his back pocket and then took the dagger off its place and turned back to face the man. Took too much time? the brawler was already right in front of him. He smashed his face in and tripped him to the ground, then held his foot up to smash his head into the ground. A mistake he was going to pay for? Elsewise slipped out of the way of the deathblow and stabbed the man in the calf muscle. He used the knife as leverage to pull himself up quicker as the knife descended further into his leg. He reached the needle out of his back pocket and held to the man?s throat from behind. ?Last words? And try not to make them poetic, they just come off sounding egotistical...?

The man smiled, ?You?re very good. I believe we can use you after all?? The man?s head jerked back and almost caved in Elsewise?s skull. He fell back, blood running down his hands, as the man ripped out the dagger from his leg and threw it at Elsewise?s feet. The hole in his head was gone, as was the foot long gash that should have been running down his leg.

?You ever read the Bible, Mr. Ipswitch?? The man said, taking a seat across from on the floor.

?Don?t believe in reading fairy tales?? Elsewise replied, grabbing the needle from the floor and sewing his head back shut. The last attack had busted his head open. He couldn?t afford to fall apart.

The man laughed and sighed as he continued, ?It?s more real than you might think, Mr. Ipswitch. The Devil, Jesus, God, the whole sh??

?GOD HUH?? Elsewise stood, angrily, ?GOD IS REAL? THEN HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?? he said, ripping off several of the bandages from his face. The man?s arm reached out and held him still. ?I know what you look like, Elsewise and it?s true, you are manmade. An abomination. One mistake among many in man?s follies in search for the powers of God. And as a result, your faith in the existence of a merciful and just God is miniscule at best. But, that?s not what I?m here for.? Elsewise relaxed and sat patiently.

?I am Azrael, one of the fallen angels that stayed neutral in God?s battle with Lucifer, now considered the embodiment of evil, and the angel of death.? Azrael expected another burst of anger or confusion from Elsewise but all that remained was serenity to his presence. ?And the God of Earth is dead?? Elsewise?s bandaged face hid a grin. ?So Nietzsche was right, huh??

Azrael smiled, ?No, not THE God, the God of Earth. You see, the Universe is run as a representative government, with representatives in all bodies for both spiritual and mortal coils and every? You know, for a human being who?s never read the Bible, you?re rather accepting of all of this.?

Elsewise shrugged as he finished patching up his skull. ?What do I know about spirituality? I was created in a science lab. Might as well be telling the truth, doesn?t affect me.?

Azrael?s voice deepened and a face of anger overcame his brow. ?That?s where you?re wrong, Elsewise? Heaven has always been ruled by the forces of Good and Hell has always been ruled by the forces of Evil. Earth has been the middle ground. As long as the battle for Earth?s soul stays one in a system of checks and balances and no one wins it, peace remains in the afterlife. And yet the fools at the top of this system have decided to try and set up wholly good or wholly evil MORTALS to take the place of the God of Earth, unable to anticipate the chaos that could come of it.?

?What?s the big deal? So what if a wholly good person becomes the God of Earth? Doesn?t that mean God wins? Hip Hip Hooray and all that??

Azrael sighed and cursed Ipswitch for not being able to comprehend the situation. ?Mortals are IMPERFECT! Both sides are overzealous to even consider putting mortals at the head of such a system of government. Anyone could see by the scandals and impotency of the United States government that mortals aren?t meant for such responsibility. Even the most morally lawful mortal is a great danger in such a position of power.?

?So, good luck to you, Fallen Angel.?

Azrael smiled, ?I am no fighter. I am a muse, an artist, and a? business man. I have no place on the field of battle.?

Ipswitch slipped the needle into his back pocket and the dagger into his sleeve, rubbing the wound to his malformed head. ?Could?ve fooled me??

?I need a true warrior. One who could win the battle and preserve the Earth as a system with both evil and good in the outcome.? Azrael stood up as he spoke. ?The balance of good and evil must be preserved, and I believe the two of us can accomplish that.?

?And what do I get out of the deal? A position in government? I?m gonna pass on that one?Besides, I am mortal. You just went on a whole tirade on how evil and corrupt mortals are and how they aren?t responsible enough to hold chairs of government.?

?No, you will win and you will hand power over to me. Time has given me a greater outlook on existence. For peace to continue, one rejected by both sides must take control. And besides, all good and evil must experience death at one point, so I can?t exactly play favorites with my job as it is. And in return for your services, I guarantee you? a soul, and salvation.?

Elsewise looked up in puzzlement, ?You can do that??

Azrael smiled, ?If I?m the God of the Earth, I can.?

The whole thing was ridiculous, something out of a bad novel. But?if it was true?would that make him less of a? freak?He had to try this.

Elsewise stood and smiled, though it was invisible behind his bandages. ?All right, consider yourself the future God of Earth, Azrael. What do I have to do to enter this tournament??

Azrael smiled, ?Well, there are many ways, but I think the easiest one is this?? Then he held out his hand, and waited for reply.

Ipswitch examined Azrael?s outstretched hand and his used car salesman smile. ?I know you might not know much about these things, but we call this a handshake.? In which we-?

?I know what a damn handshake is?? he said, still wary toward his apparent ally. He inched his hand forward carefully and stopped centimeters short of the hand. ?Is this going to hurt??

Azrael sighed and reached his hand forward. Black weaved through the air and a mark implanted itself on Elsewise?s hand. Darkness overcame him. Yeah?it did, was the last thought that came to his mind as the pain drifted him to sleep.

 

[Fire Daemon]

I'm going to attempt to make a new character because apparently the story/character I had was to offensive, and contained "To much mindless violence, and pointless swearing, with not enough masculinity"

So I don't know what the hell my new character is going to be.

I had that one planned for a long time.

I'll try to have a new one up as soon as possible.

Who told you that?

Quite a few people in Escapist IRC

You should go with what type of character you feel happy playing as, don't make a new character just to please other people.

I would like to take part in this RW but with my last year of high school mocking me, I feel like if I do play I will eventually have to quit and make a small mess. I've already spread myself pretty thin, taking part in Fleet Command 2. However if I'm needed I would have no problem with returning as a judge. Obviously I've been a judge twice already so I suppose it'll only be fair to let others take up the role.

Consider me as someone who will fill any judge openings if not enough people volunteer for the role. I'm going to watch this game though, very closely.

 

[Labyrinth]

What the hell, I'll throw down. I've got some free time coming up what with holidays and all. A bio and character sheet will appear sometime soon.

Alternately, let me know if you'd like me to judge.

 

[rogueshadows]

I'll be trying my hand at this. seeing the previous ones though, i doubt i'll win. still doesn't stop me from having a bunch of fun now does it? i should have my character done by the end of the week.

aside: it will be interesting to see if we actually have any goody-two-shoes runing for god of earth, or if its just a bunch of sick fucks... just 'cause sick fucks are more fun to write.

 

[Lord Krunk]

I'll be trying my hand at this. seeing the previous ones though, i doubt i'll win. still doesn't stop me from having a bunch of fun now does it? i should have my character done by the end of the week.

aside: it will be interesting to see if we actually have any goody-two-shoes runing for god of earth, or if its just a bunch of sick fucks... just 'cause sick fucks are more fun to write.

Well, The Lyre from last Ratings War was intended to be a Robin Hood-style character, or at least develop into that due to trauma.

This time, though, I'm going for something much more... despicable. I'm trying something drastically different to my play style this round, you see.

 

[Bling Cat]

Good to hear. Oh and sorry but I've got one more question. How touchy are we as a community on the subject of slavery? I doubt it will come into the fights but it is a fairly important part of my character's backstory and partially personality.

Great minds think alike.

And until I get home in a few hours, that is the only information you are going to get on my character. Unless Sorrow releases the intro I PMed him. Which he is free to do.

 

[Flying-Emu]

I'm in. I'll have a character thought out and typed up by tomorrow.

Cheers, mates.

 

[Bling Cat]

Consequences
Or
Whatever Happened to Drane?​

Velvet, soft velvet. His new body was so beautiful. The wonderful, soft velvet.

The bus was filled with the random swarms of detritus society pumped out every day, all of which somehow found their way onto this bus. The sides, previously a uniform grey, now shouted the confused message of a hundred vandals. Passed on the street, one could easily mistake it for an abandoned heap of scrap metal. Dave Cotton sat in the driver's cab, waiting - as usual - as his charges for today filed on. He had 'The Junker' as it was known around the station, because of his skin colour. He was black, a fact of birth that acted as a curse upon him. Nothing was his; even his life belonged to the bus company. He was watching the 'cleans' tramp onto the bus in a line, wrinkling their noses in disgust at the state of the floors.

His nose... It was incredible! The smells he smelt with his smeller were frankly quite stellar! He chuckled. The man in front of him, the fat one beyond the bars, he was scared of him. That he could smell. That smell was not stellar. That smell made him angry, angry that this man could not see beauty when it was presented to him. A punishment fitting the crime would have to be concocted.

"Is this what we're driving to the station in?" One of his passengers said in a tone of voice that suggested he wanted an answer different to the one he knew. Dave didn't respond, instead turning the key in the ignition, and submerging himself in the sounds of the bus' engine. The miles toward the T.V. station where he would drop off his cargo passed quickly when he could ignore the world and listen to his engine rattle. "Can't we go any faster?" the same indignant voice shouted. He knew these people. Always busy, always hurrying on to their next appointment. He supposed that must be what it's like when you're white and in control of your own destiny. And he considered that they were all equally cursed.

After he had finished turning the man into a thing of beauty, he looked at his surroundings. The bars of his prison were bent and twisted, and four from the left side were missing, taking their part in his art. The man played the part of the centrepiece. He had failed to recognise beauty.

The building loomed on the outskirts of the city, the satellite dish on its roof casting reflections into the eyes of the passengers. The bus pulled up and halted. The process of getting on was reversed and when they had all entered the building of their work, Dave got out and reached for a packet of cigarettes. The ones white people smoked carried warning labels. His did not. That was his second shipment of passengers today. The first had been the morning load of workers, the black slaves and the white people unlucky enough to have to go into the cleaning service, or the canteen cooking service, or the coffee service. He had to wait here for the morning load of cleaners to come out and get on the bus. That could take hours. Part of the reason he had taken up smoking.

The place was buzzing with people. They swarmed in from every orifice of the building, clogging it's arteries with their noisome presence. He didn't like it. The building wept with the stress of it all, and he wept with it. They would have to be shown beauty, the beauty that only he could lay down for them. The beauty of the lord.

Dave had waited for several more hours than he had expected. He had other runs to do today; he couldn't afford to wait around for the cleaning crew. His cigarette stub was flicked onto the ground near the refuse bins, and then he stormed into the building to look for his passengers. What he found inside made him retch. People were frozen in rigor mortis, expressions of terror still on most of their faces. Some were missing faces entirely, erased by the hand of some gory painter. They were suspended by ropes from the ceiling, or pinned to the walls with rods of any and all shapes and forms. He recognised their shape, they were all hung in the way - His train of thought was cut off when he heard someone whistling 'He's got the Whole World'. When he rounded the corner Dave almost fainted. Before him stood a monument to all that was wrong with his world. The man - if you could call him that - had the ears and nose of a large bat, with tufts of hair sprouting from his outer ear. His arms had flaps of skin attached at the wrist and travelling down to his waist, providing an imitation of wings. His hands were the kicker though. Instead of fingertips, he had claws sprouting from his digits. They were caked in blood, and his questions about what had happened to the people were answered by that simple fact. The final fact that struck him as different about... Him was the short, satin like black fur that grew close to his body, covering it like an animal.

A new one! He also seemed to fear him, but he did not run. This made him happy. Others of this man?s colour had fled before him, but this one stood his ground.
"What... What are you?" The new figure before him asked.
"I am the lord's messenger."
"I thought I recognised the shape you had made. Crucifixion."
"I remade them in the style of our lord."
"Why?"
"Because they feared beauty."

Dave considered that he had gone insane from the sights he had seen upon walking in the door. He hoped so. "How are you...? I mean, why are you..."
"Like this?"
"Yes"
"Darkness, pain, growth and change!
NO! The pain came first, then the darkness. The darkness was so thick though. And the whispers in that darkness so repulsive. At least, at first I though that. Then I invited them in for pleasantries. Have to be pleasant to the neighbours. We got to talking however, and I got to see their point of view, and I liked the view from up there. The path they gave me. So I followed it. And now here I am."
Dave liked to think that was when he blacked out. He liked to think the blurry images of him having metal rods stabbed through his arms were just fevered dreams that the pain in his legs stemmed from his imagination. But when the monster stepped back and looked at him, and he moaned, he knew that he was just another bloody tapestry on this things wall of horrors. "I am Drane" the thing purred "God's avenger." When the fire collapsed the roof and brought a flaming beam down on top of Drane, the flames were licking around Dave's ankles. When the debris crashed through the door to the basement, to where Drane's cell lay twisted and ruined, the fire had engulfed him. And when the fire crews arrived after the last small torch of flame had burned itself out, he was nothing but a burnt, nameless skeleton chucked onto the back of the truck and taken to the morgue.

Drane was broken. The fire lapped at his form. He wondered why his god had abandoned him. "Drane, do you wish to live?" What was this? A new voice? He wasn't used to new voices. "Do you wish to continue to do the Lord?s work?" He smiled, and whispered "Yes."


Alright, my intro post up for everyone to see. Just in case you're wondering, Drane will not have a background supplied. It will be revealed, slowly. How he came to be this way is a complicated string of events.

 

[SargentToughie]

Spoiler: blurgh

I'm way too drained to type up my character at the moment... I'll have it up later tonight

 

[Revenent]

Just making a reservation here. I've been having computer troubles the last couple days, so I haven't really been able to do much. However, I'll do my best to get a character going as soon as possible. Please PM me or something if I end up being too late and maybe I'll ask to be a back-up judge or something instead. I'd like to be involved with this one somehow.

 

[mshcherbatskaya]

Spoiler: Ah, what the hell - why not?

This is my church
This is where I heal my hurt
It's in the world I become
Content in the hum
Between voice and drum
It's in change
The poetic justice of cause and effect
Respect, love, compassion
This is my church
This is where I heal my hurt
For tonight
God is a DJ
This is my church

Haha, I di'nt write that song. A dj wrote it, a dj but not The DJ. That a' be me. He was, maybe, an acolyte unknowin'. Or knowin', even. Ya learn a lot o' things mixin', bringin' together what that is, that was conceived apart. Tha's me, things conceived apart comin' together. The structure of the music an' the loose-limb dancin' that live inside it, come from it, give it purpose. Intangible wave of air enterin' solid flesh. Pulse to pulse, it come together. Energy inta matter. Apollo an' Dionysus. I been them, bot' at the same time even. So have you, but you di'nt know it. Maybe you feel it, but it come transient on the air and blow away away takin' your sweat an' breath with it. Me, I feel it always. I mix it. I give it. I take things, take 'em apart, bring 'em together, isolate an' combine. I move the soul, an' if that ain't what a god do, then what god good for, hm? Make the rule an' the punishment? Set the condition an' make the reward? Nah, nah, god does that don't deserve a throne. Not in heaven, not in hell, since they the same anyways. The Lord giveth an' the Lord taketh away? No, any Lord with any respect for himself an' love for the people an' respect for the people an' love for himself don't do that. He give, he receive, he give back, an' not jus' the love, but the everything. The war, the suff'ring, the hate, the ache, the sickeness an' sadness. That the space between the notes, or it should be. Must have the space or it ain't nothin' but a dead drone. But some people, they feel god givin' them the silent treatment. That gotta stop.

So when The Man come and say God is dead, I think, alright, his gig over and maybe, maybe I play a bigger venue than I been doin'. Maybe. Not god willin', but world willin'.

What I look like? Haha, I'm the wors' dressed fella in the place always. Maybe I got no shoes, hat over my eyes, shadow over my face. Sleeves pushed up always. I'm the silhouette in the back of the room, the one you don' see because I ain't the impor'ant one. You the impor'ant one. That how you know a proper church. You the most impor'ant person in that holy place, and so is ev'ryone else, because you all in all. Not in my church, you ain't alone in my church. You whole, you in the whole an' from the the whole an' within the whole of life, in the space an' the hum between the voice an' the drum, you content an' move easy, no body, no mind, just you, just you all, just all of you, in my church.

This is my church.
This is where I heal the hurt.

Sound check...
Sound check...
1 2 3
Test test test...

You hear me the back? Yeah?

Good.

EDIT: Since it looks like Ultrajoe will not be bring his Rock God to the party, I figured I'd take up the musical banner.

 

[Blind0bserver]

I'm hereby throwing my hat into the ring. As soon as I'm done writing I'll edit this post with a character of such epicness and absurdity that your monitors, nay, your very minds will shatter from an inability to comprehend him!

 

[SargentToughie]

Spoiler: whatever...

I'm completely mentally drained and I made up this entire story off the top of my head, forgive me if it's not the best thing you've ever read

prologue

Ivan Garian lived a life that people would either see as blessed or cursed, there was not middle ground when it came to the Knights of Eversteel order, These knights saw the evil that was stretching across the world that they called home, and they swore to fight back against it in the name of good, despite how impossible the odds of them emerging with their lives would be. The history of these knights was a long and complicated one, but the knights of the Eversteel order were one of the only groups in history to be untouched by the corruption and darkness resting in the heart of every human. They would always appear in the name of justice and battle for good.

When Ivan was a child, he saw the Knights of the Eversteel order as role models, he aspired to become a man exactly like their noble leader at the time, who was a man by the name of Orin Tarros. Ivan would always train with his blade, which he always dreamed of using to strike down evil... Just like Orin.

But shortly after he joined the Knights, things got... complicated.

......

Ivan walked calmly through a city, rain was falling from the sky in droves, allowing him a brief respite from his conquest. Something about the rain always seemed to have a soothing effect on his heart, allowing him to forget about his fight, and just rest for a while as the rain fell from the sky, bathing the world in it's calming aura.

The rain laid siege on Ivan's armor, he now wore pure white chainmail, with a silver breastplate in his chest, all the other parts of his body that didn't need to be flexible (such as his feet to his calves, or the upper part of his wrist) were also covered in thicker silver metal. A golden circlet covered his entire forehead, covered mostly by bangs of his brown hair. By his side was a longsword, resting in it's gold sheath. He most certainly looked the part of a paragon, nobody could dispute that. He was now the last of his order, and had no choice but to continue their battle on his own.

As he walked in solitude, however, Ivan noticed something extremely out of place in moments like this, another being was out in this weather, and it wasn't running like a bat out of hell to escape. It seemed like it was almost waiting for Ivan to cross paths with it. Ivan simply chalked this up to being paranoid and tried to pass this person without a confrontation, but it seemed that the stranger had another idea in mind.

"Ivan Garion, you have a chance to bring your mission to an end"

"You're not funny"

"I'm not trying to be, there's a tournament taking place, and the winner will become a god"

"I repeat myself... you're not funny"

"I repeat myself... I'm not trying to be"

"Prove it"

Ivan pulled his attention away from this stranger, and realized that he was now in some sort of... lobby? There were plenty of other people here, and Ivan could immediately tell that most, if not all, of the other combatants here had some sort of evil resting in their hearts. His fingers came together to form a fist.

"A tournament to become a god? If this is the truth, than I can't allow any of the people in here to take that job"

And so Ivan Garian joined the fight.

Spoiler: Ivan Garian

Ivan keeps a typical longsword by his side, but that's not his primary weapon. His right hand (He's left handed) manifests physical energy through the use of his mind. It operates like a simpler and more basic version of Green Lantern's ring, allowing him to create anything from shields to energy beams. If he wants it to happen, and his body can withstand the loss of energy required to do it. It can be done.

However, this power is linked directly into his Stamina, which means that the more he uses this power, the more his body his worn out by it. Because of this he will frequently attack with his blade at first, create an opening in his enemy's defense, and finish them off with one, small, use of his mental power.

Any questions or feedback (on either his style of fighting or him as a person) can be sent to me by PM or on this thread... either works

Spoiler: and one more thing

Somebody has to be the lawful good character... it's no fun if it's just an army of villains and demi gods.

Besides, I'm a firm good guy, heroes all the way!

and here's all of my prestory, as requested​

Childhood dreams​

Teenage drama​

What the future holds​

chaos​

Starting again​

Solitude​

 

[Brett Alex]

Character sheet incoming!