TBOS OCT - Character Draft"I am Regis, the King of Heroes. None have journeyed longer or fought harder than I have. None stand in my path, for who can bar a king's way? I do not tolerate obstacles and crush anyone or anything who becomes one. This world is mine and all who are in it. And by my hand, to prove it is mine, I will destroy it. But do not judge me until you have heard my story."
"My name used to be one without power. Jenks. A minor hero who followed his path, gained many allies and enemies, lost so much and gained much more, and whose failure was tempered into a resolve that would lose to no one."
"My story was painful and prolonged. I was to be one of several heroes who would challenge a great evil and strike it down. We would save the world from its doom. That was our destiny given to us from heaven itself."
"My path was followed. I gained allies, others like me, and we knew our purpose. With the blessing of heaven we strode into that pivotal event, knowing we would emerge victorious. Our blades gl
Fractured Perspective 4 - AVSEHe flailed about helplessly, his mind a little too occupied to do things like believe in the impossible. The power inside him pulsed in an unknown rhythm, growing more rapid with each passing moment.
Alexander? But I'm Alexander! Aren't I? Who are these people? What are these people? I can't breathe! What is this place? Why does it feel familiar? Oh Darkness what have I been caught in the middle of? Air, need air! I need to escape, need time to think! I NEED MORE TIME.
With one omnipresent pulse, everything vanished and Alexander hit the ground hard. He lay still for a few moments with his eyes squeezed shut, unaware of the gentle breeze or the soft grass below him. He just gasped and sucked down fresh air before coughing violently. Red flecks hit the ground in front of his mouth. His throat felt like it was on fire while being sandpapered.
Alexander didn't even react to the voice. Whatever the poison had done, it exhausted him. He just wanted to lay h
Fractured Perspective 3 - AVSEThe stone exploded into a colossal wave of gravel that thrust at Tempest, with Alexander and Author leading the charge on the crest. Alexander didn't let a word like impossible enter his mind. He merely pulled upon an endless supply of magic and focused it as the battle dictated. Just as he'd done so many years ago, his only thought was victory. And Imagination gave its all for one who believed.
The endless mist vanished to be replaced by a rocky mountain stretching to the horizon, a massive hole blasted in its side. The sky was torn in a spiral around the colossal wreck of a mountain. The Crown of Eksha five minutes after the death of Illuminas, god of light.
Alexander breathed deeply. He didn't think of that fact that he was standing on Eksha, nor that after this battle he had given up adventuring until his Author had intervened, or even that instead of Samuel at his side it was someone who could either be an incredible ally or his worst enemy while both possibilities seemed equally
Fractured Perspective 2 - AVSEAnathema stood in the doorway, leering at Alexander like he was a particularly juicy steak. She grinned and revealed needle-sharp teeth.
Alexander fell out of his bed in his haste to retreat. He hit the floor with a loud thud.
Anathema giggled. "Oh? What's wrong Alexander? It's me, Happiness!" She took a step closer and Alexander scrambled backward. "I did tell you the next time we met wouldn't be in your home turf."
Alexander's back met the cabinet and he got to his feet, the staff clacking on the ground as he tried to make his legs support his weight.
Anathema laughed. "Nowhere to run now little character. Nowhere to hide. And no one to save you."
"I think this is where I make my Big Damn Hero moment. HERE I COME TO WRECK YOUR DAAAAY!"
From out of nowhere came Writer in a dropkick to Anathema. Her grin was still plastered on her face when she took the kick on her face and flew backwards out the open doorway.
The Writer remained hovering in midair before he righted himself and touched
Fractured Perspective - AV SEAlexander lay in the medical wing firmly tied to his bed with his staff locked in a cabinet. He had attempted to leave it more than once and the personnel had decided enough was enough. So he stared at the seamless white ceiling and contemplated his next move.
He'd lost to Wares. The Writer had been wrong about Alexander, but as far as the narrative went, it hadn't known Alexander's true intentions either. He'd never voiced them. Never voiced his wish out loud, the one that might have redeemed him once and for all.
Too late for that now. The medics were worried about him having a concussion or internal bleeding with how hard he'd been hit by the bus's engine. He had neither, but they would hear nothing of it and declared him delirious. He'd disagreed. Civilly at first, then a bit more forcefully, until he attempted to break out with force. Hence his being strapped to the bed and his staff out of reach.
What would he do now? He was a stranger to this world, and it wasn't like he knew mu
AV - Round 4Penultimate Chapter
Alexander sat in his room, legs crossed and eyes closed. Though his body was present, his mind was elsewhere.
He sat upon a large rock in the midst of a meadow surrounded by a forest thrown into shadow by the midday sun. The stone was pockmarked with numerous pits and holes, some of which formed comfortable places for people to rest in. Alexander was at the top, in what could only be called a throne of rock. He hadn't made it.
The mage's eyes opened as someone picked their way out of the trees and into the tall grass. He was dressed in a shirt and shorts and carrying a book as blue as the sky. Alexander looked at his eyes and quickly shifted his gaze away. There were depths within them he did not wish to view.
"I should have known you'd find this place sooner or later," said the stranger. He looked at Alexander's position and raised an eyebrow. "An interesting choice of a seat, though I question how qualified yo
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