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Balance of Dimensions [RP]

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Desbear:
Synopsis  
The universe is, to our knowledge, like one big spiderweb: a vast infrastructure of unique worlds, each one branched off of the last and kept connected by only a thin, spindly web that ties it all together. The residents of these universes possess a spark within them - an energy that has the ability to span the universe, bypassing the barrier that divides the world to connect them to their partner.

You live in the hub station of the universe; the utmost central point of it all. This universe is the place where the division is the thinnest, and where the connection from the other worlds come through - searching for their partner, people like you. Once they are found, and you and your partner are linked (often through dream), you gain a mark on your body that connects the two of you for life.

A sport has been made of this: Astral Battling. It is the biggest sport in the Centralverse, and to be a battler is an honor, but this has not always been so. Exactly sixty years ago, during the famed Galactic Tournament: -  the biggest event in Astral Battling - tragedy struck. While the full scope of events that transpired are still a mystery, it is known that the entire event was saved from even worse tragedy by a participant of the tournament: Daylin Hakima, who held the title of champion for over fifty years after that. He held an undefeated reigned, and passed away of old age still undethroned.

Though, now that is a title of prestige and power, it was not always such. Less than a year after the events of that year, Astral Battling was deemed too dangerous, and outlawed across the world. This however, didn’t snuff out battling, of course, as underground battling circuits still went on strong. Exactly five years after it had been outlawed, a tournament was held in the underground, that would take the name of the Galactic Underground.

Though authorities had caught wind of such a tournament, they were unable to put an end to it until fifteen years had passed; and astral battling was fully shut down for five more years, until Daylin would lobby for their return, thus, reinstating the Galactic Tournament.

Forty years after the events of those days, here we are, with the famed Galactic Tournament. Though this may be the first time it’s happened in three years, the format is the same; the best battlers the world, and their sponsors, have to offer come together, clashing for a chance to fight the champion. And you… Each one of you, are within this mix.
Historical Characters
These are characters that you may know, as famous battlers.

Name: Daylin Hakima
Status: Champion of the Ages - Deceased
Personality: He was known as a level-headed champion, and he never backed down from a challenge. Daylin didn’t let his status of “hero and champion” go to his head, and was much more humble than people expected. When asked what the hardest thing he ever had to do was, expecting the answer to involve his legendary effort to stop what occurred at the tournament, the champion laughed and told them that it was “proposing to his wife.”
Appearance:

Astral
Name: Garlock
World or Region: The Nomad Plains
Techniques: It would be easy to write an entire book on the different abilities Garlock used in over half a century of battling (in fact, someone has), but we will list his most prominent traits.
• Indomitable: Garlock was extremely resilient, and nearly impossible to take down.
• Powerful: Garlock was huge, towering, and solid muscle; he had the strength to rip whole trees from the ground to strike his opponent with them.
• Adaptable: He may have looked like he was missing a few crayons from the crayon box, but Garlock adapted to situations much faster than the average astral, and it kept him alive as often as his strength and spirit did.
Appearance:

Name: Clint Harrington
Status: Former Champion - Alive
Age: 27
Personality: Kind to his fans, Clint tried his best to please them and keep up with them the best he could during his time. He does not seem to hold any feelings one way or another about his loss two years ago.
Astral -
Name: Masked Magician
World or Region: “My World”, an actual quote from him.
Techniques:
Masked Magic: The Magician fought with a combination of fire and ice; symbolized by the symbols on Clint’s left and right hands.
Super Move: Using the might of his magic, he creates a storm of fire into ice; alternating the used elements at will. It is not known if this attack truly had any known drawbacks to him.
Appearances:


Name:   Conrad Merryweather
Status: Champion, Alive(?)
Age: 22
Personality: Working behind the scenes almost constantly, he never seems to really… See any of his fans; entering and leaving before they have the chance to speak with him, as a busy fellow.

BladesEdit: Approved

Desbear:
RP Start
The sun had gone down about an hour ago, yet the stadium had nearly lit the entire city up by itself. The roar of the crowd was loud enough to pierce the walls, even echoing to where most of you already stood - behind the stage. The room was fairly nice, with a line of comfy chairs and monitors so you could watch the games as they went on. It wasn't dissimilar to the small rooms they had provided your teams in the stadium, so you could go over briefing and strategy.

The opening ceremony had just started, signaled by the beat of the drums and the sound of the music. They had gotten a bit of a newer band, but one that showed promise and didn't charge as much to host the opening ceremony. As the door to the backstage opened, the music got deafeningly loud for half a second, before two staff members walked in, closing the door once again. They walked up and down between all of you, handing each of the participants that had already sat down a piece of paper.

The paper reads:
"I'm sure your teams have already gone over this, but just to make sure you understand this: You're supposed to go onto stage when it's your turn to battle, give a friendly handshake before and after, battle, maybe give a bit of wave or a gesture to the crowd, and then leave. Whatever you do, please do not try and speak to the crowd, especially if it involves taking a mic. We've... Heard stories. Fill free to talk to the other participants, before, or even while you're on stage. Heck, it'd probably look good if you said something to each other on stage."

The paper also, seems, to have had the first night's schedule:
"First match: Ashley Williams vs Aaron Stillen."
"Second Match: Steven Fukui vs Alexa Lockhart."
"Third Match: Hannah Bailey vs Jade Johnson."
"Fourth Match: Jasmine Kinkitsu vs Kyoko Valera."
"Fifth Match: Stella Harrison vs Heather Grayson."
"Sixth Match: Chloe Reed vs Joseph Williams."
"Seventh match: Clint Harrington vs Jessica Sinclaire."

But, that aside, it looks like you have some time before the event begins. Perhaps you should socialize, and talk to the other participants? You'll be seeing them a lot over the next five weeks.

The-Blades-slave:
Aaron
This dinner rush is going to be the death of me! Aaron flipped several of the burgers on the grill over, struggling to hold back his coughing as the smoke stung at his eyes. They had him trying to do way too much at once; he was the only person cooking burgers for the entire joint, and he still had to take the fries out of the fryer.

"God, the fries!" He nearly dropped one of the burgers on the ground in his haste to turn around, splattering a bit of grease into the air, which landed on his arm. "Ow!" Aaron did, in fact, drop the spatula that time, cradling his stung arm to his chest and trying to wipe the grease off.

"What's taking so long?" The manager, an older man who had worked there longer than anyone bothered to remember, shouted from in front of the counter. "And what's that racket?!"

"Nothing! They're almost done, sorry!" Aaron yelled back, hurriedly throwing the spatula in the sink, already moving toward the fryer. He pulled the basket out, and to his great relief, the fries were only slightly overcooked. The majority of them were still crunchy, golden shards of greasy goodness. He didn't waste anytime throwing them onto plates by the handful, ready to be served up with the hamburger.

The waiter - a sweet, sixteen year old girl that looked just as flustered as him - took the orders as soon as she could, and Aaron heaved a sigh and gave himself a second to relax. When is he going to let me go? The normal dinner cook had called in sick that night, and so even though his shift was supposed to be done over an hour ago, he was still here. He glanced at the clock apprehensively. I'm gonna miss the match if I don't get out of here soon.

Just the thought of forfeiting his first match made Aaron's stomach turn. He had been working overtime to make sure he could afford to take the next two days off to train, and now it was probably all for nothing. He had come all this way just to be behind before it all started. "No, that's not gonna happen. I can still make it on time if I get going soon."

"Are you talking to yerself, kid?" His boss, standing in the doorway, glared at him like he had grown an extra head. "Y'know what, don't answer that. We got another guy in here, you can go ahead get gon--" By the time the man had looked up, Aaron was gone from behind the counter, and the door to the restaurant was swinging in the wind. His was work hat was lying on the floor, in the spot he had been moments before.

"THANKS, BOSS, I'LL PAY YOU BACK SOMEHOW!" Aaron hollered over his shoulder, squirming out of his work shirt, which had his sponsorship shirt beneath it. He did his best to keep running while he was changing, hopping on one foot at one point while he changed his shoes from the ugly, black no-slip shoes to his worn down sneakers: he still had a mile to go, and the match started in eight minutes!

Lunartic:
Jessie put in a pair of earbuds with a huff when the music started. Definitely not her taste.  She flipped through her text messages, noting one sent by her coach:


[Text: Scarlet] You’re not up for at least three hours, do whatever you want for the first hour then come back up to prep

A man in a black t-shirt labelled “GT Staff” tapped her on the shoulder. She pulled out an earbud and tinny sound of hard rock could barely be heard over the boom from outside. “Huh? What’s up?”

He handed her a piece of paper and moved on to the next person. “'I’m sure you teams have already gone over this,' blah blah blah, not important.” She shoved the paper into her coat pocket and returned to her phone. Another text came in, this one from her older brother:

[Text: Lucas] Good luck Jess. Mom wants you to Skype us after your match
[Text: Jessica] Thanks Luke. Will do
[Text: Lucas] I have a crush on Samus!
[Text: Jessica] Excuse me?
[Text: Lucas] I do not! The Brat got a hold of my phone when I wasn’t looking
[Text: Jessica] Of course ; )
[Text: Jessica] Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me

Jessie held back from bursting out into laughter while she texted her younger sister:

[Text: Jessica] *high five*
[Text: Sarah] HEHEHE
[Text: Sarah] Tomorrow I’m going to make “love” a shortcut for “think Samus is hotter than”
[Text: Sarah] So when he tells Riley “I love you”...
[Text: Jessica] XD

After a few more minutes, the music subsided and the announcers began talking about the first match-up: Sun Wukong vs Dovahkiin. Even if she didn’t have to get ready, Jessie only planned on watching the first two matches live. She got up and looked around, but Aaron wasn’t in the lounge. Odd. Maybe this Ashley person was instead? Jessie hadn’t seen him in the training room, and considering how she sometimes spent entire days there trying to meet everyone, figured he practiced off-site. It wasn’t very common, but she knew a few fighters who did. This might be the only time she would get to say hi to him. If she could find him, anyways.

Tickles:
Ash walked into the room with his team and looked around. He found a seat that said his name on it. There was one problem. Someone was sitting there already. He walked over, and pulled out his Nerf gun. 'You, you're in my seat. Move!" He pointed his gun at the unfortunate person's head.

"Oh, Ashley Williams! I'm so sorry, I was just warming it up..." The coward looked up and nearly turned white. Ash's face looked like the specter of death decided to park itself there. He shot the guy in the face, and holstered his gun, freeing his hand to grab the coward by the shirt collar.

"The name is Ash. Forget it next time, and you're going through a window." He tossed the man aside and sat down. His team sat around him with his teacher, Amadeus, sitting beside him. Amadeus looked disappointed, but spared the lecture for now. Ash was handed a paper, which he skimmed over and tossed aside.

"Someone get me a drink while I wait for my opponent."

Amadeus spoke, "No. Stay away from alcohol. It will impair your judgment next fight."

"Come one teach. I fight better when I'm liquored up.

"I said no! Just sit quietly and try not to make a fool of yourself."

Ash sighed and laid back. "Then can someone at least get me some water? Apparently there is a prohibition." Someone brought him a plastic cup with water in it. He drank it, pretending it was whiskey. He started to look a little more pissed, and would probably shoot off at the next person to speak to him.

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