PM: Round 2Bleeding a Pollock
Osteo emerged from a family restaurant, smacking his lips at a delicious meal after that little interview. He wasn't sure whether to call it canon or not. Maybe middle of the ground? Oh what was that term, Noodle Incident? Yeah, that's it, he'd call it a Noodle Interview. Referenced once and never mentioned in detail.
Now he had to find the "light of knowledge." He shook his head at the clue. It dripped with so much cliche that he couldn't help but giggle when thinking of it. The reporter had given him directions to the university, and that bit at least remained canon unless he wanted to get completely lost in this city, especially since he'd jumped off the rails of the plot, so no help from there. His normal method of travel in High Noon had been Rooftop Express and he doubted an escaped prisoner would be given the leisure of bouncing above people's heads without consequence. During their brief session, Drake had warned him just how pervasive Minos's influenc
AV - Round 3No More Heroes
I was once a hero.
I sat on the floor of my room, playing with the gems I had ordered to be brought to me. If I couldn't go to the earth, I made it come to me. They were all different colors. A slab of shiny black obsidian that I had been told can be smithed into fine weaponry. Cloudy white crystals with a rough texture. Quartz they called it. Every mage of the earth carried a piece of quartz jewelry to announce their station after being recognized as a genuine spellcaster, another thing I had been told but never seen before. But I had these set aside and was gazing intently at my personal favorite.
It was black like obsidian, but as I stared into its depths, I noted a soft, shining white that flickered like fire in its core. My father had given it to me personally, and carefully explained exactly what the gift was. In my flimsy grip I held a soulphire, a gemstone that couldn't be mined normally like all the others. Though many had search
PM: Round 1Invoked Trope
Osteo sat on the lumpy mattress that served as a bed in prison. His left hand curled and uncurled, the fingers swelling to stretch the skin to its limits before reverting back to normal. Two messages he had received today. Two different ways to start his story. The question was which one he would take. Starting off in a prison was a tad cliche, but it wasn't like he could leave and go find the nearest tavern to chat up the mysterious old men.
He pitied the others here. Some of them would be fictional, which meant they were just puppets dancing for the amusement of a creator. Others would be average people in what Osteo pegged as a fantasy adventure, not exactly ideal. Osteo knew only a few people, like himself, would be able to make their choices completely on their own. No creator, no god, no outside influence to push them along. Whether by birth or blood, they were free, and they defined what that meant.
But this was still a story. And Osteo was one of its protag
PM: Osteo ProfileHistory
Osteo is an Unwritten, born from an errant thought and the all-encompassing power of Imagination. Little more than vapor and the will to exist, Unwritten do not have mundane histories. They have no childhoods to grow from, no parents to be influenced by, and most don't even have a set physical form to be defined by. They begin their growth from the moment they come into existence, and should they ever stop they will fade back into nonexistence.
Osteo doesn't know his age nor does he care to find out. He came into being only possessing a knowledge of bone magic. He didn't even have any rudimentary skills, those were to come later. He drifted about multiple multiverses as Unwritten are wont to do, seeking out a story of his own that would both define him as well as give him the purpose he needed to not fade away. And along the way he learned the necessary information to survive. How to interact with others, what money was and how it could be procured, food and drink in all
PM: Osteo AuditionOsteo lounged on the roof of a comic shop, a parasol twirling idly above him to provide shade. He turned his head and saw dozens of other such parasols bobbing along the street, floating above the people they were shielding from the sun. Osteo had long since given up on griping about that death star. Eternal daylight was just a fact of life on a world called High Noon. Small wonder its inhabitants revered any bit of darkness that could protect them from the unrelenting burn.
Osteo idly reached down where his hips would be on a solid body, and pulled out a small notepad. "To dooo," he muttered, scanning the pages. "Catch the new movie. Did that." He reached up and flicked his finger across the item, leaving a tiny slash through it. "Investigate 33rd hole in reality this year." Osteo rolled on his side and looked at the silver rip dancing above the center of the roof. "In progress."
He picked up a small brick he'd acquired recently and stood up. He didn't bother to brush the grit off him