TMD - AuditionDuality
I sat in the luminescent rainbow sanctum of my mind and wondered when the show was going to start. I never remembered this intermission of sleep just before REM, not until I was back here picking through my thoughts of the day. My subconscious was keen to let me do my thing, a slight advantage of lucid dreaming. We had an agreement where he would get to do whatever he wanted, and I would try not to take control of the dream unless it was the very end or I got irritated enough to blast someone.
I conjured a beanbag and plopped down in it, idly flicking big bubbles away that represented my experiences. Uneventful all of them. Internet being down, playing Morrowind, writing an audition for an OCT on deviantART, writing for the hell of it, reading The Throne of Flames, re-reading The Red Pyramid, etc, etc.
There was a flicker in my mind and I slapped aside the memories of eating barbecued chicken. "Ready?" I called out as my thought bubbles tumbled away towards the memory ba
TMD - Author's SheetName: Author
Appearance: See comment box.
Personality: Author is a trickster archetype, only getting serious when he is in serious danger. He enjoys playing mind and verbal games with people, with a tendency to pull them into his own pace. He is capable of talking normally with people, but it would require him to not think they're fun to antagonize. And considering he's played the "I'm not touching you" game with an ork before, good luck with that.
Abilities: Author has the ability to, at will, conjure and manipulate the form of his pens into any non-biological object that is comprised of three pieces or less. This means swords and shields, not guns or plague. He generally keeps the first in the form of his left arm and his favored entrance to a battle is super-sizing the prosthesis into the form of a monstrous claw. The second pen acts as his robe and cloak, but is rarely revealed as such. He can use it to fly, though it is a bit unwieldy considering his body and
TMD - Robert's SheetName: Robert
Appearance: Red hair, blue eyes, white and highly freckled skin. He stands at 6'5" and 215 lbs. So yeah, skinny with an average body build. And while he ain't going to be running any cross country meets, he doesn't get exhausted going up stairs or lifting things. There's a prominent scar on his right wrist from a surgeon's botched attempt at sewing an incision shut.
Personality: Robert varies. When confronted with something new he shuts up and observes everything he possibly can, mentally filing away his options. Despite this he is horrible at remembering people's names though he can place their appearances fairly well. To experiment with this come up and introduce yourself, walk away, then come back twenty minutes later. Who are you again?
But when placed under pressure, Robert alters his thinking. He reacts to a situation immediately, subscribing more to the fight part of the syndrome than flight. He is knowledgeable on a variety of matters ranging f
TBOS OCT - Entry StoryCut Short Eternity
"Oblivion really isn't all it was cracked up to be," said Regis as he drifted in the white void where there had once been heaven. Shattered fragments of his armor drifted by, dipped in a mixture of gold and red. For all he'd lived his countless lives worshiping an almighty Ruler of Heaven, the so-called deity had done the same thing mortals did when stuck with a sword. Scream and bleed.
Regis touched his chest and felt nothing. He vaguely recalled a seraph's sword glancing across it earlier. That was another thing he'd found odd. The invincible host of heaven had been about as threatening as a swarm of children. About as durable too. He'd lodge a complaint about false advertising to the afterlife, but he'd just obliterated it.
"In which case where am I now?" said Regis, not even bothering to turn his head. All he'd see was more white. If he was lucky he'd catch a glimpse of his sword's hilt, which was currently orbiting him. Minus a blade, but a sou
TBOS OCT - RegisName: Regis, King of Heroes.
Age: Ten physically. Unknown mentally.
Physical Description: Regis is of average height and weight (for a child), with white hair, fair skin, and silver eyes. Literally all silver, with no pupils or irises. He looks this way because he is a hero who ascended to heaven. Even if he did destroy heaven shortly after, he retains his afterlife appearance. Same reason he looks this way even in his child form.
His body isn't much to speak of compared to how he was before, but he still has the figure of a swordsman, with his arm and leg muscles especially developed for agility. He no longer bears any scars or other markings that he had, since the regression took him back to how he was as a child.
Clothing/Armor: As a result of his forced regression, Regis's old armor and weapons are too big for him. However he has altered his old clothing to fit his younger body. While this leaves him much less protected than he was as an adult, there's n
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