It had been a long time since the Man had been caught so off-guard. Sensation ebbed in and out of him, his vision coming in and going out of focus every few seconds. He squinted, raising a gloved hand above his face. He'd been wandering aimlessly for hours, disoriented... But this didn't look like the Nativity 6 facility. It didn't even look like Io. Heck, it didn't look like any of Jupiter's moons!

He was lean, but well-built--around mid height for his time. He looked around. Nobody nearby; a few distant figures ambling around near the horizon.

He glanced down at himself. The jet black flightsuit--and harness--he'd worn under his engineer disguise was all he had on now. He sighed quietly as he hit the dirt, trying to minimize his visibility what little he could. At first he'd thought that all of this could simply be some kind of holographic projection system set up by NTNJ to deceive intruders. Now, he wasn't so sure...

With a tug of the attaching sling, he brought his rifle over his shoulder and into a steady position in front of him. Keeping his finger off the trigger, he peered down the scope. He could see the other people much better this way. Time for a little recon.

Soldiers, Emissaries, Spies, and Creatures... Entities of all stripes seemed to emerge from a fountain that was central to this strange place. It was hard to keep track of where his scope was positioned, due to the lack of any distinguishable horizon, so he had to briefly open his other eye to compensate when seeking new targets to observe. Fortunately, none of them noticed--or at least, if they did notice, they weren't letting on.

And gates. Large edifices seemingly glued to the nothing of this place. The one nearest to him was tall, and stone, and impossibly worn.

Grey Man didn't abide by it. It was all just plain strange. Wrong, somehow. It wasn't fair, either. Victory had finally been in his grasp, and now he was cut off from his advisors, his mission support, and even Big Ron. All attempts to hail them on their usual channels during his strange nervous spasming fit had been unsuccessful. He had heard a voice, whispering insane new truths into his mind as he faded between lives. It was not the voice of any of his comrades, though, of that he was sure--and in time, that voice had also faded. The Grey Man was alone, for all intents and purposes.

He sighed, lowering his rifle and starting a brisk belly-crawl towards the gate nearest to him. He knew that some of these people were armed, and didn't want to risk an engagement until he could better assess the situation. They were better equipped than the guards of Nativity 6. One man he'd caught a glimpse of appeared to be wearing some kind of powered armor that Grey had never seen before. His predilection for archaic weaponry had caught up to him--there was no way that conventional bullets could pierce that armor... could they?

He knew he didn't want to stick around to find out. The plan was to check one of these doors out, then make a decision from there. Sadly, even at his quickest pace, this would take him quite some time from his prone crawling position. He paused, rolled his shoulders and his neck, and let out a long exhale. Guess it's time to start figuring all this craziness out...

Character name: Hikaru Woodpecker Doku

Character source: Disgaea series

Character history: Hikaru Doku is the only child to the late Serene and Magnus Doku. Shortly after his birth his home village in his netherworld was raided and his parents were murdered after successfully hiding him from the raiders. One of four survivors of the village, he took off on his first chance, namely, being able to walk for the overlord's castle. Along the way he made many friends and became known as the kind wanderer in his verse, eventually appointed as the direct advisor and captain of the magic royal guard for the Overlord's throne where he worked day in and out with the overlord's family.

Physical Description: With an average frame being none too bulky but not frail either, Hikaru stands at 6'0 and wears a large overcoat with a skull hood design for intimidation and granting a boon to his magic prowess, underneath the overcoat is a tan colored long sleeved t-shirt and brown rugged jeans. He also is seen wearing slim circle frame glasses due to a slightly weak eyesight, having 19/20 vision in both eyes. (originals only)

Stats:
ATK: 3
DEF:3
SPD: 2
TEC: 2


Starting Proficiencies: Ranged Attack(1000 OM), Homing Proficiency(600 OM), Area Attack Proficiency(600 OM)

Starting Powers: Master Acrobat(400 OM), Hive mind(400 OM)

Starting Moves: Homing Fireball(300 OM requires Ranged and Homing Proficiency), Ice shards(300 Om, requires Ranged), Dark Circle(600 OM, Requires Ranged and Area attack proficiency)

Total Spent OM: 4200 OM

I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct. Also, i'm sorry to the admins i made a huge mistake and put this in the roster forum instead of here. Could you please delete that thread titled HIkaru W. Doku?

mmkay I think i had this issue because I myself had bought 2 or  3 stat unlocks. Here is what I did. When considering the stats for my alternate form, I placed the points, the ones I bought, where i had them originally. This is because they are Permanant upgrades, which gives me  10 points left to distribute.

Quote:+Basic, Defensive Oriented
Description: The difference between Her basic form and her other is the wieght weighing her down and defensive advantage it gives her. The long black coat she wears is full of a heavy experimental liquid that hardens when struck. Given the weight pulling her down at all times, she cannot perform at her highest speeds.
Stats:
ATK: 5
DEF: 4
SPD: 2 (1 permanent stat increase for SPD)
TEC: 1 (1 permanent stat increase for TEC)

+Speed Form (Heavy coat removed)
ATK: 5
DEF:1
SPD: 5
TEC:1

The abyssal zone. A cold, largely lifeless flat plane of sand, pounded into a flat, undersea desert by the sheer, mind numbing weight pressing down on every particle that was unlucky enough to drift through the pitch black wastes. If one were to have some sort of illumination, however, they might see a strange, black, tetrahedron moving briskly across the sea floor, kicking up an immense cloud of pale sand in its wake. Its tip bare dragged through the mucky silt, leaving behind a thin, turbulent trail as it somehow scooted along. Contained within was Nealaphh, the god-mind. It had woven the black stone around itself to serve as a cocoon not against the incredible crushing pressure of these depths, but of the frigid temperatures that would otherwise swiftly kill it. The entire apparatus, really just a solid bauble of stone, was propelled exclusively by Nealaphh's mental power.

Within its perfectly polished faces, Nealaphh was held almost in stasis by its own design. It had pondered for a long time on whether or not it should attempt to return to Costa Del Sol after a third run-in with Imperial forces, but had eventually settled on the fact that it should seek out a base of operations much farther from the Empire's reach. To that end, Nealaphh had done some research about potential destinations within the Vasty Deeps that would not only be a safe haven, but also a potential wealth of knowledge regarding clandestine access to Coruscant. The god-mind had nearly been traveling a day, when its heretofore dimmed eyes spotted a slight luminance through the crystal clear water in the difference. The god-mind was excited, in spite of itself. From what it had gleaned from the Dataverse, Rapture was an almost idealistic human society, governed by those who had the will to improve themselves and cast aside useless social mores. As the tetrahedron crested over the top of a rocky underwater hill, the full city came into view; towering underwater structures laden with ornate neon tubes and signage pierced upwards through the water of the deeps. Transparent glass pipes criss-crossed between the myriad structures, like the strands of an immense spiderweb. Architectural artwork graced every precipice and corner, the brassy edges glinting in the warm glow of a million electronic lights. Nealaphh's tetrahedron gently lifted itself off of the sea floor, up into the reaches of the buildings. Its hard, aesthetic surfaces contrasted sharply against the decadence of the city, and Nealaphh could sense eyes upon it as it passed by the reinforced windows.

The god-mind spent a long time trying to find a way into the city, eager to explore what it had to offer Nealaphh in the way of information and artistic fulfillment, but transportation within Rapture appeared to be a largely integrated system that did not allow for foreign objects such as its own transport to integrate into its systems. The god-mind was going to have to figure out another way in. Fortune would have it, however, that one of Rapture's integrated transports...some sort of self-contained orb, was descending along a track from high above. Nealaphh willed the tetrahedron up higher, pursuing the bathysphere directly behind it, like a ghostly shadow, along its leisurely course. With a tentative grasp, Nealaphh reached a hand out through the hull of its tetrahedron, and latched on to the back of the bathysphere with a cold, stone hand. With this grip established, Nealaphh slowly began to absorb the black transport that had had heretofore carried it back into its body. The rainbow illumination glared brilliantly through the water, but Nealaphh was certain that whatever occupants were currently aboard the bathysphere would likely be too distracted by the vista presented to them to notice a slight aberration in lighting. After the period of about a minute, the shadow had fully reintegrated the tetrahedron into itself, and clung to the back of the bathysphere with its bare body.

...

After some further period of travel, the bathysphere docked itself in some sort of reception area. Thankfully, the water inside the building was warm enough that Nealaphh didn't immediately have to leap out of the salty brine. It considered simply making its way off in its own direction, but there seemed to be quite a bit of mental activity going on above the surface. The god-mind concentrated and began to share the visual thoughts of a random onlooker. Nealaphh watched, through this citizen of Rapture's eyes, as a waterlogged and injured young boy flopped from inside the bathysphere on to the carpeted ground. Intriguing, but not altogether important. What was important that, after a woman in a green dress gently guided the blue-haired man away, the crowd began to disperse. After a few minutes passed, the god-mind peeked its head above the water, its green eyes glaring out from behind the bronze sphere. There was still some light foot traffic, but it was sporadic enough that, after a short period of waiting, Nealaphh seized an opportunity to emerge on to the try land. After telekinetically pulling all of the water off of its body, Nealaphh quickly formed its beloved black cloak and skulked off into the shadows of Rapture.

Watching.

Following.

Waiting.

“MORE ALE!”

The shouts of Bilgewater’s more colorful denizens filled the front room of the Lusty Wench. The stink of the freshly-docked crew of the Annabelle wafted into the noses of the tavern’s diligent workers as they prepared for what was sure to be quite the busy night. Some of the waitresses, if you listened closely, might be heard whispering about how disappointed the sudden burst in business made them; they had been expecting a quiet evening, and perhaps an early break. When the Annabelle showed up at port by surprise, however, around dusk, all hopes for a night off had been squelched.

The pirates had just completed a successful mutiny. Their captain had always had a penchant for adventures that got them more trouble than booty, and they had recently decided that they’d had about enough of that. They needed gold if they were going to be able enjoy more of life’s finer pleasures—and that was what being a pirate was about, right? Fucking women and drinking booze. Aside from plundering and sailing the high seas, what would a scurvy buccaneer rather be doing?

The celebration had been going on for hours, now; the sun of the Vasty Deep had long since sunk past the horizon line of the verse, and newly-minted captain One-Legged Bruce (complete with wooden peg-leg) had long since lost his impulse control.

“Ow!” one of the wenches squealed as he smacked his hand hard into her ass. “That’s not cool, mister,” she scolded him, shooting daggers at the pirate captain with her eyes. He laughed heartily, not paying any mind to her warnings, and grabbed her by the skirt, pulling her onto his lap. She struggled. “Let go of me, creep!”

“Aw, honey, come on, just give the cap’n some sugar,” Bruce pleaded, puckering up his lips for a kiss that wasn’t going to come.

The wench broke free of his grasp and very quickly reared her hand back, bringing it down and slapping the captain’s face in one quick, fluid motion. The reddish handprint left on his face disappeared as his entire countenance turned scarlet with fury. He cracked his neck, looking up at the girl. “You really shouldn’t ‘ave done that,” the man growled, standing up and quickly reaching out, grabbing her by the throat. “Now, you’re gonna pay.”

He released her, tossing her onto the wooden ground. She let out a yelp, trying to crawl away from him, but she couldn’t escape; he slammed his peg leg firmly on her ankle, snapping the bone and keeping her squarely within his grasp.

“I am One-Legged Bruce, captain of the pirate ship Annabelle,” he screamed at her, quieting the entire tavern down. “Do you know what I did to the last measly little person to cross me? Do you?” He fumed so much that he began to foam at the mouth a little, some of his drool dripping disgustingly onto the ends of the waitress’ short skirt.

The crowd of pirates and other customers of the Lusty Wench had gotten eerily quiet as Captain One-Legged Bruce lorded himself over the scared girl. In the silence, the sounds of her almost-silent sobs could be heard despite the fact that she had her face pressed against the nasty floor of the tavern. “Well?” the peg-legged captain grunted, “Do you know what I did?” The trapped girl shook her head frantically, trying her best to get the gruff pirate to take his attention off of her. “Mills, tell this bitch what I did to the last man who crossed me.”

First Mate Farley stepped out from the gathered crowd. “Well, you marooned him,” he piped up, “banished him from his own ship and left him on a tiny little island to die, y’did.”

“That is correct,” Bruce removed his peg leg from the woman’s ankle. One of the bartenders rushed over and helped her onto her feet, though one of them now proved completely unusable. “Marooned him, left him with no food, no water, just a bit of rum for the road. Took his ship and made myself captain.”

“And gave it an awful new name.”

All eyes turned to the doorway. In it leaned a rather lanky man with long, dirty-looking dreadlocks. He looked, to the naked eye, like the quintessential pirate: quite unclean and unkempt, with a long, brown, leathery coat over one of those puffy shirts and a black vest and matching pants. This pirate, however, still had both his legs—and decorated them with some nice-looking boots. Scattered throughout his dreads and his facial hair were some rather beady-looking pieces of accent jewelry. Overall, his style could be called eccentric. The wench and her bartender friend had no idea who he was, but judging from the crew of Annabelle’s shocked faces, he wasn’t exactly a new character in their story.

“Seriously, Annabelle?” the unfamiliar pirate quirked an eyebrow, and then, his voice getting low: “That girl’s never going to bed with you, matey.”

“…Jack?” First Mate Farley was the first to speak.

“Oh, good, ol’ Fire-Breath,” Jack smirked, standing up and sauntering over toward the Annabelle’s first mate. “You get those chompers checked out yet, mate?”

One-Legged Bruce was, perhaps, the most shocked to see the man. Jack placed a hand on Fire-Breath Farley’s shoulder, in a sort of ‘no hard feelings’ gesture, and then turned his attention to the peg-legged captain. “Not happy to see me, Brucie?” he smiled. For a few moments, the captain was at a loss for words. Eventually, he finally regained his ability to speak, but could only produce one sound.

“…h-how?”

“Mate,” Jack pursed his lips as if the answer should be obvious.

“You were stranded on that island with nothing but a bottle of rum,” Bruce spat, finally finding his voice once again, “There’s no way in hell you’re standing here right now.”

“And yet,” the dreadlocked pirate said, “Here I am.”

Bruce sucked in a nervous breath.

“Honestly, mate, I dunno why the bloody ‘ell you didn’t just shoot me,” Jack shrugged, stepping away from Farley and crossing clumsily—but with remarkable purpose—toward the peg-legged pirate, “I mean, I am a measly secondary. Isn’t like I would’ve come back, y’know?” He leaned toward Bruce, getting his face altogether to the other man’s. “But you went old-fashioned,” he continued, nodding, “Respectable, I must admit. And it probably would’ve worked, on any other man… but, Brucie, you forgot one thing.”

A beat. Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.”

A shot rang out, and Bruce collapsed in a heap on the ground of the Lusty Wench. Captain Jack Sparrow lifted his pistol up and blew the smoke off the end of the barrel of the gun. Behind where Bruce had once stood, the injured girl and her bartender crutch looked at him.

Jack eyed the bartender. “I’ll take a glass of rum, mate.”

The bartender locked eyes with the pirate captain nervously. “Um… sorry, sir, but we’re currently out of rum—”

“Of course,” Jack interrupted. He turned in frustration to the rest of the tavern.

“Why is the rum always gone?!”

All purchases for Fortis go here.

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Okaaaay...

So, I think I've dropped this thought into the chat quite a few times now, but it's still playing heavily upon my mind and I wanted to hear what you guys think. For a little while now (in the wrap-up of Dante's Abyss, in a more approximate timing) I've been thinking about swapping out Jon for another character. It's took me a little while to figure out why I'm considering this, though. At first I just thought it was a post-DA effect of not being motivated to write as and with the character, but in these few days I have came to something of a sensible and reasonable conclusion.

It's not that I've fell out of love with the character - I still enjoy writing as him in the brief spurts I can write, though the seriousness and monotone nature of his character can wear me down a bit. I think the main problem I'm facing with him is the route I've taken with him, and not knowing where I want to take him next. I really think that's what's blocked me out from writing so much - just a lack of ideas and motivation with him.

If I did choose to change him in favour of someone else, I wouldn't want to leave his story off on a blank and aprupt note. I'd ideally want to push as him until I'm at a point where I could be satisfied with "concluding" his tale, and even then, NPCing him is still a possible option for the future onward. I've got a whole list compiled of characters I've considered replacing him with, so here ya go; they're sorta roughly ordered in ranking from the top (characters I really want to give a go) to the bottom (characters I'm still fairly interested in but not as much as the ones above).

Damian Wayne (DC Universe) - Just about my top choice right now. I've wanted to write from the perspective of a child/less mature character for a while now, and Damian would be perfect. Now that we have a Batman/Bruce Wayne here, there's some potential for an interesting father/son plot there, too.

Nightwing/Dick Grayson (DC Universe) - A really cool character that has that right balance of seriousness, humour and charm. He'd be pretty easy to write, and he could really work well when implemented into my analytical style of writing.

Red Hood/Jason Todd (DC Universe) - Beginning to notice a trend in source materials? Jokes aside, this ones another cool character who I have plenty of ideas for, though I fear he's a little too much on the serious side and I'd prefer something fresh and new right now.

Bruce Banner/The Hulk (Marvel Universe) - Daaaang... this guy could be so fun. It'd be like having two characters in one; sometimes a studious, genius-level intellect scientist, other times a big ass green guy with serious gains who's ready to fuck anyone's shit up xD but seriously, I could have a lot of fun with this guy. Only problem I foresee is the Hulk having to be nerfed down hard, as well as a lack of plot ideas.

Spider-Man (Marvel Universe) - Need I say more? He's the motherfuckin' Spider-Man. It wouldn't be your typical Peter Parker/Earth 616 Spidey, though. There's a LOT of Spidermen in the comics (go see the Spiderverse) but I'll leave that as a surprise for if I do end up picking him.

Eren Jaeger (Attack on Titan) - I don't watch me a lot of anime, but god-damn do I love me some Shingeki no Kyojin. I have a fuckton of ideas for this guy, even an event I could do which could involve other PCs (as a hint, it'd involve Titans). I just think he'd be a little serious (though I do enjoy writing hot-headed characters).

Iron Man/Tony Stark (Marvel Universe) - Another one who has that right balance of witty charm and humour. The only problem I face is, again, a lack of plot ideas, but I'm not completely deft when it comes to thoughtful output.

Pit (Kid Icarus) - He'd be the polar opposite of Jon and lovely as a breath of fresh air and trying something new, it'd just be challenging to perfect his comedy/4th wall breaking tendancies.

So, yeahhh... what do y'all think? Would changing Snow out be the right choice, and if so, who do you think I should take in his place?

I don't really know if I have to wait to gain permission to use it, or if I just ask, but I'll ask to be safe and not end up waiting for nothing. I have read the rules of conduct.

Character name: Fortis, The Unbreakable

Character source: Original

Character history:
Fortis comes from a universe stuck in what earth knew as "the dark ages." He was from a poor family that lived in a small village outside of their countries capital, whose living conditions were surprisingly worse than his own due to overpopulation. His father had to visit the capital often due to his job as a farmer, which required that he went to the markets to sell what food he could. This never really made sense to Fortis, why would they need to sell food so that they could buy more food? He didn't know of taxes or anything like that, but even if he did, he would likely just suggest they move somewhere without them.

One day, his father came back speaking of a knight he met that offered his assistance to pay for taxes. It was certainly rare for knights to speak to peasants such as them, but his father didn't doubt the man at all. His father told Fortis how interested the knight was in him, and that he would very much like to meet him one day. This confused Fortis, but his father explained that he told the knight how hard working and strong he was for his age.

Little did he know, the knight didn't want to simply "meet" him, he wanted to take him on as a squire. When the knight finally met with the family months after meeting his father, and asked for permission to take Fortis. The request was denied almost immediately, but the knight did not give up. And argument took place, and continued for a good half hour before the knight drew his sword and slaughtered Fortis' family without warning.

"You're mine now..." These words would be engraved into his mind for years to come, as he was forced to become a squire to the man that killed the ones he loved. He served under him for years until he was finally granted knighthood. The years Fortis spent as a squire were ones that were undeniably enjoyable. He met many other squires and met many friends that continued to be just that for most of his life, but the pain of losing his family still remained.

He was looked up to by many squires, and respected by other knights, but just about everyone had one huge problem.. Never in his life did he kill someone. This would likely be something that someone would respect, but his life as a knight and participation in many wars made people see him as strange. The reason blood never touched his blade, was that his only goal on the battle field was to defend his comrades. There were often times where he would even leave his blade behind and rush into battle with only a shield to defend himself and others with. The only reason others respected him, was that he saved many famous knights, and even more grunts, from deadly situations.

Another surprising thing about him, was that no one has ever been able to beat him in a fight. Every time he was challenged, he won by lasting longer than his opponent, making them wear themselves out until finally giving in. This caused others to give him the epithet, "The Unbreakable," which he wears with pride.

Physical Description: Fortis is never seen without his armor, even when sleeping. He refuses to remove it for unknown reasons, and the only piece he can be seen without is his helmet. He is much taller than most people from his time, standing at 6ft'3in and weighing 245 pounds without his armor. His muscle mass also makes him very large. Underneath his helmet, his face has very strong features, a square jaw, angled ears, and large nose. His hair is dark brown, and is normally shoulder length and kept neat. His armor is a darker red, with spikes coming from the shoulders. Fortis is currently without weapons or a shield, and uses whatever powers he has created in the omniverse to protect himself.

Stats:
ATK: 1
DEF: 5
SPD: 3
TEC: 1

Starting Proficiencies:
-Area Shield Proficiency (400 OM)
-Physical Strength Proficiency (1000 OM)

Starting Powers:
-Integration (1000 OM)

Starting Moves:
-Shield: Partially transparent orb that instantly forms around the user after after lifting their hand up. Blocks smaller scale melee and ranged attacks and only lasts for a split second, forcing the user to time it perfectly to avoid being damaged. Only large enough to hold the user. (300 OM)

-Fortress (Requires Area Shield Proficiency): User forms a large transparent orb around themselves and any allies within 5 feet of the user. The move is used in the same way as shield, but takes 3 seconds to create. Unlike shield, this move lasts 10 seconds, but still only blocks smaller attacks such as other basic moves and prevents people from entering or leaving. (600 OM)

Super Moves
-Strong Shield (Tier 1): Same as shield, but much stronger. User raises hand and focuses all of their power into their defensive abilities. This allows them to block some of the strongest of attacks, such as other tier 1 supers. (600 OM)

I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct.

For how long did the cursed swordsman chase the green-skinned brutes through the twisting trees of the forest? His bloodlust clouded his mind and turned him into a simple-minded predator. He followed the scent of their peculiar blood and their clumsy tracks. Before long he had lost sight of them and shortly after he lost any indication of their trail. Kuzuru raged against Renji, calling him weak and slow, cursing his inability to chase the neanderthals through the forest. Without a response the now-focused swordsman sheathed his sword and quieted the demon. Something was strange, the forest felt different somehow.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence. Normally the Tangled Green was alive with the sound of animals and the rustle of leaves in the wind, but now everything was silent. Renji stood in a clearing, surrounded by the uneasy quiet. His keen sense scanned his surroundings and yet he found nothing, no silent predator, no wandering animal... Nothing but trees and shrubbery. A sudden chill came over him, forcing his entire body to shiver. Such a warm pleasant day had taken a turn for the worse and now the air was filled with an ominous chill. Goosebumps crawled across his bare flesh and Renji wished he had brought along a shirt.

“Oh... You’re an interesting one, a collection of poor stolen souls” a shrill voice called from the treeline, shattering the silence. Each word reverberated like tin and echoed upon itself. Renji scowled and scanned the area, his red eyes darted around trying to find the source of the voice.

“Who is there!?”

His demand was met with a snicker. Renji scowled and stepped into the center of the clearing. An eternity of battle experience had gifted Renji with a special sixth sense. Even with such a staggering amount of expertise he was drawing a blank and unable to get a bead on anything. Without warning the wind began to howl and swirl around the warrior. Whips of wind and dirt swirled around Renji, threatening to shred his unprotected flesh. Through the torrent of debris Renji’s bright red eyes focused on a humanoid figure standing in the treeline.

The man stepped forward and the whirlwind died as quickly as it started. His entire body was a pale see-through grey and it seemed to flicker in and out of existence. Despite the ghastly appearance, Rou’s smug grin was unmistakable. A wave of panic crashed into Renji, his mind raced to piece together how Rou’s soul had managed to escape the prison of Renji’s blade. The apparition flickered and a shit-eating grin cracked across Rou’s sly face.

“My... My Renji, lookit this lookit this. I’m a real boy now” he snickered, every word echoed upon itself.

With a flick of his wrist Renji sliced through the apparition. The sword passed through Rou as if he was made of smoke. A shrill laugh cut through the air, Rou was cackling like a madman.

“Oh please, go ahead and cut me Renji. I know you just want to slice me to bits, come on take another swing.”

Renji scowled and swiped once more to no effect. A thin layer of frost had accumulated over the quiet trees and greenery that surrounded the two. The millennial swordsman;s mind raced with worry, this ghost was terrifying. If Rou was able to leave the sword, then could the others follow suit?

“What do you want from me?” Renji asked, a hint of fear cracked through his voice. The laughing halted, replaced by the ever-present silence. Every moment filled the air with tension. Rou’s ghastly form flickered several times and he began to laugh again. The shrill guffaw pierced Renji’s ears and he gritted his teeth in pain.

“Are you that dumb?! What do you think I want? A cup of tea?” he mocked Renji.

“Tell me what you want!” Renji demanded, slashing once more through the ghostly figure. It was almost like flipping a switch, the laughing stopped and Rou’s grin disappeared. The air around Renji turned frigid and he shuddered to knock of a thin layer of ice that attached itself to his skin. Rou’s body flickered out of reality once more, but this time he moved in between the flicker. His hand was suddenly clamped around Renji’s neck and his face was contorted into an evil grin. He spoke with brimstone and fire, spitting forth hot coals and soot from the bellows of his throat.

“I want my soul back!”

The sudden movement startled Renji and he pulled back from the ghost’s icy grip. Instinctively he struck out with his fist, sending a slight burst of black and red energy into Rou’s form. The energy seemed more effective then the blade, it actually managed to scatter the ethereal ghost. All that was left behind was a shrill giggle and a cloud of smoke. Even with Rou’s poltergeist dispelled the Millennial Swordsman knew this was far from over. The normally talkative demon stayed silent through the entire exchange and Renji felt uneasy. With twisted guts and a dizzy head he wanted to go back to Ambrosia, but the path had disappeared and he couldn't remember the way back anyways. The forest threatened to consume the swordsman. His body was chilled to the bone and he found warmth in short supply. Every stepped forward felt like one step closer to stepping from the abyss and falling into a deep despair.