To Infinity and Beyond (Order Rank Challenge to ∞ for Rank 8)

[Ashes Remnant]

The long-awaited showdown between Jezza and Cody has arrived.

.:Rules:.
No GMing, PPing, or any other such bs.
Judges word is law.
Location is upto ∞
???
Profit!

.:Restrictions:.
Characters cannot be on the giant omniversal destroying scale. More anime/Video game scale.

.:Judges:.
Prophet​

TEMPLATE
Name
Semos Onah

Age
Late 20's to mid 30's

Gender
Male

Appearance
Semos is the kind of guy you think you'd know. He has an average look to him. Beyond average almost. His hair is a simple black color, and is short and spiked. He has a band t-shirt on, his eyes are dark, he wears earrings, a studded bracelet, and even skinny jeans. He's your typical rocker-punk. Acts like it too. However looks can be deceiving.

Bio
Gentle murmurs carried from the young man's lips. Twin earbuds were planted in his ears, and the music from them was loud enough to be slightly heard by standing nearby. The music was not something sophisticated or nice however. In fact, it was almost the complete opposite. As the beat carried itself like a bird taking flight, the young man's wrists flicked as if striking the heads of a drum kit. The intricacies of the song was nothing to an experienced musician such as he.

The man was on his trip back home after a local concert. The band was fine, but as most local bands are, was nothing compared to his particular favorites. The night air was fresh, and the entire world seemed to beckon him to keep walking. He passed his apartment building, on purpose. The song wasn't over yet. After this one, he'd go back.

As the final chorus reached it's crescendo, the young one turned around. The base of his foot landed on a small orb however, the rest of his body giving way to gravity. He landed hard, and quickly recovered that which had cause the accident. It was metal, and had one glowing portion. he just knew what to do. He touched it. Immediately, his life was forgotten, his name missing, and everything was changed, never to return to the way things once were.

Abilities
Semos has no direct abilities whatsoever. He has the strength and speed of a normal human being.

Weapon
Now Semos' weapon is where his true power lies. His weapon is called the "A.R.C." Both the origins, and full functions are lost in the folds of time, yet Semos knows everything about it. The device is a small ball, small enough to fit into someone's pocket. When activated by thought, Semos' entire being is sucked inside. Astral form, physical form, spiritual form is all inside. Then, whatever it is that was the target is let out of the ball, as the ball fades into disexistance like Semos. This is done to protect the weapon from outside forces. The target that was chosen is then controlled by Semos, yet retains personality traits.

 

[Orion]

Jarondo - KHInsider Roleplaying Wiki

 

[Ashes Remnant]

First post is all yours Jezza-kun. Also, we need judges, but I doubt they'll be needed in the first few posts or so.

 

[Orion]

I seriously don't fucking get your guy's weapon. You explain nothing about it. I insist (as friend and staff) you at least explain to me something about what it is that makes Semos dangerous.

 

[King Sora X]

If i may intrude, i think its like one of those weapons that suck up anything in its path; whether it be the user of the weapon itself, or even his/her opponent(s). To me, it sounds like a weapon compressed across time that is able to capture any kind of body.

Well at least that is what i got from it xD

 

[Ashes Remnant]

It's as King X said. He nailed it on the head. It'll become more apparent when we fight. Trust me, it's nothing that can harm you directly.

 

[Orion]

Alright, I'll just have to trust you on that. But I've got no time to post anything roleplaying, especially an introduction, so I'll be doing it tomorrow morning or afternoon.

 

[Prophet]

I wouldn't mind judging. Even just a notice that I'm watching. Finally, the chance to see Semos take action

 

[Orion]

Out of the blackness, a streak of white, as brilliant as a star, broke the darkness. Close to it, another one came, this time curving. A third followed nearby, this time zig-zagging. These streaks, shapes and patterns of white moved across the black in what appeared to be organised lines, just barely. Each line was wonky, as though whatever might be guiding them was in too much of a hurry to worry about precision. That was only partially correct. The one guiding the white was most certainly worried about precision, but not in insignificant rows of numbers, symbols and operands.

A second line started, then suddenly the white stopped erasing the blackness. It's source, a piece of chalk, stubby, dry and old, was then caught by a different hand, and without even bothering to move the instrument back to its proper hand, the man resumed his manic scribbles on the blackboard. It was a tall and wide one, were he to be standing on a chair, he would still not reach the top, and it almost spanned the length of the room. The man was of average height, and his pitch black hair was gleaming with sweat. He was breathing heavily as he started on the fourth line. Some might think you couldn't get tired from using your brain too much, but that was simply because no one had really ever used their brain this much. Especially not recently. It was all calculators and computers in the modern world. But his computer, his calculator, that powerhouse inside his skull, was now working its way through, at a fair pace, one of the most complex calculations known to man.

When his left hand got tired, he switched the piece of chalk back to his right, and with the back of his left hand, he wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of the white lab coat he was wearing. He looked around again, to make sure his students were watching. Each table was full, an equal mix of young men and women, all in their early twenties. The man looked several years older than them. How much older he actually was compared to them was a wholly different matter. He smiled a toothy grin, flashing brilliantly white teeth, when he saw all his students at attention. There were no heads darting up from mobile phones or swivelling forward from conversations. All eyes were on him and the board, all ears to his voice. Along the way he occasionally explained bits and pieces, but truth be told, they were way in over their heads. The sort of stuff their teach, Mister Rondo, was dealing with was the sort of thing even today's best mathematicians would be troubled over. But Rondo moved through the motion of rigorous formulas.

An eighth row, and Mister Rondo was out of space, and with a squeak of sneakers and a rustling from his jeans, he shifted over to start a new column. As the formula progressed, he began talking more; he began to forget the students, even forget himself. It was now all about the numbers. "Bring the pi under - no, over - the three. Follow it with, oh... delta of the cosmological constant. There, that's good, universal curvature's down pat, but I'm not done yet... Now, alpha and delta - plus? minus? - no, raising it to the power would work better, yeah. Their ratio, it's around... Oh, duh!" He then brought a palm to his head in his moment of lesser intuition "The golden ratio, phi. Good, now, what else... Where might omega go? Maybe if I put it in a logarithmic triangle between sine, cosine and tangent... Yes! Perfect!"

Five minutes later, there were six rows, and Jacob (as his first name was) Rondo now stood on a chair at the far right corner. He was so close to using up his available space, but he was also so close to finishing. "Yes, that's a smart move. Perfect placement. Intuitive. Intelligent. Genius.... Brilliance."

Jacob Rondo withdrew from the board and stood in the corner, his shoulders heaving and his breathing heavy. "Brilliance. Brilliance." He then began to slowly turn, head down, but a crack of a smile forming. He completed the circle quickly to face the back of the room. As he did so, he brought his arms up, and lifted them as he yelled for all his student, the whole school, the whole world to hear; "Motherfucking brilliance!"

The room was empty. Chairs were strewn about without order. The windows were broken, and a cold breeze blew in. The room wasn't warmly and brightly coloured, it was dim and grey. The floorboards and the planks of the small stage cracked and rotten. The room hadn't been used as a class for decades, and hadn't even had semi-intelligent life in it for years. The school too was empty, in a much similar state. At that moment, Jarondo's smile faded. That was the name he had given himself when his intelligence, and his skills, transcended humanity. It was still his name, just condensed.

Jarondo had lost count of how many times this had happened. It had felt like the pinnacle or his life, and it probably was. He just liked reliving it every now and then. It was worse than a drug, but so much like it. He'd start reliving it, quite literally going back to that point in his life and experiencing it again, and then when it was over there was the crushing low. His shoulders once more drooped down, and his hands flopped to his sides as he then walked out of the room in depressed plods. When he passed a classroom he looked into it, eyes sparking with recognition and sadness at the reality.

He moped about the school for an hour, his depression gradually fading to his normal emotionless state.

Then, something stirred.

Jarondo's eyes darted down the hall he had been walking, and hovering about four feet above the ground was a small sphere, with a small portion illuminated.

 

[Ashes Remnant]

Semos stood perched upon a large mountain. It overlooked miles upon miles of Earth. The sight was both breathtaking, and frightening. Yet Semos stood unphased. He smiled slightly, as he pulled his guitar up from the ledge. It was a simple acoustic guitar. He could have any guitar in the world, yet was content with simplicity. He sat on the ledge, and began strumming. The song he played was both complex, and beautiful. Yet only he heard it. But that's how Semos liked things.

After an hour of this, Semos stood once more. He brought his arm out to look at the guitar. Some man had sweated over this simple instrument. Too bad. He held it over the edge, and dropped it. From where he was, he'd never see it hit the ground. Didn't want to either. Instead, Semos wanted to see something. Some years ago, directly after his finding of the A.R.C. Semos had gone to his old college. The screams still echoed in his head somedays. Other days however, it made him smile. But Semos mainly wondered if the building were repopulated.

He took the A.R.C. out of his pocket. He held it in his hand, as he studied it once more. He'd done so many things to try to find out how it works. He'd put it over flame, tried to unscrew it, and much more. He knew WHERE it came from, but he knew technology shouldn't be able to do the things it does. Nonetheless, it was time for him to go.

With a simple thought, the A.R.C. produced a large flash. Semos was gone from the mountain top, as the A.R.C. flew away. It made it to his old hometown in a matter of minutes. It broke through a window, and stayed floating in the hall way. There was another bright flash, and Semos stood once more, holding the device in his hand.

And there was already someone here. He was wearing a lab coat, giving the impression of a professor. But the school looked degenerate. Like a war had been fought here. Of course, another fight would come soon, but only if this teacher decided to fight back. Semos stepped forward towards the man. "What the hell are you doing here?"

 

[Orion]

Jarondo stood observing the orb for several seconds, before from it flared a brilliant light. His glasses, of the 'translens' variety, adjusted their tint as the lighting went up, and faded to their regular transparency when it faded. The light gone, where the orb once hovered was now a man who looked to be in his twenty-somethings. He looked like your standard punk rocker, and in his hand, he grasped that orb. He very quickly, with surprise and agitation, forced the question: "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jarondo kept silent for a few seconds, then began in a roughly monotone voice, "I," While he spoke he then stood up straight, and folded his arms behind his back, "was walking around the halls of this long-abandoned university, or college. Depending on where on Earth you might live. Before that, I was rather enjoying a re-enactment of the highlight of my life. And before that....I don't remember." As he spoke, the man gently threw the orb upwards and caught it several times.

Jarondo allowed him to do once more, before the scholarly-looking man continued, "I suppose introductions are always helpful. My original name does not matter, and I don't care what you call me, but if you need a name for me, it's 'Jarondo'. I'm human, as it seems you are, but I'm not from this time. Or maybe I am? I can't really tell. All this dealing with temporal quantities can get terribly confusing. Now, might I have a name for you?"

 

[Ashes Remnant]

As the small orb bounced in Semos' hand, the man talked. He had the appearance that belonged in such places, yet something was off about him. Semos had the kind of dread feeling. Like something either very bad or very good was going to happen. Either way, Semos would be the one to cause it.

Then his suspicions about the man were confirmed. "I suppose introductions are always helpful. My original name does not matter, and I don't care what you call me, but if you need a name for me, it's 'Jarondo'. I'm human, as it seems you are, but I'm not from this time. Or maybe I am? I can't really tell. All this dealing with temporal quantities can get terribly confusing. Now, might I have a name for you?"

Semos clenched the orb in his hand. This guy was going to put up a fight. He could just tell. His eccentric behavior and his odd placement here gave suspecion into his abilities. Teleportation, time travel, all is possible. Either way. This was someone's last fight of their life. And that sure as hell wouldn't be Semos. This orb of power that was given to him by that woman would never fall.

"My name is Semos. But my time is up. Why don't you meet my friend?" As these words left his mouth, he held the orb up in a very showy fashion. His thumb ran over the light. There was a brilliant flash of light, and Semos and the A.R.C. were both nowhere in sight. In his place stood a woman.

Her hair was a bright red, in a long ponytail. There was a small skull emblem in the part of her hair. Her body was seductive and ample, accentuated by her clothes, or lack of. She wore a bikini top with firey designs, along with a very small pair of shorts. She had clear leggings on as well. All this led upto what she held in her hand. A rather large gun. Pointed at Jarondo. She yelled out, "I don't know who you are, or where this is, but you're going down!" With this, she pulled the trigger. A beam of light exploded out of the barrel, racing towards Jarondo at ultra-fast speeds. The recoil knocked the girl back a few feet. None of this was new to her however, after fighting Ganmen for years.

 

[Orion]

OMGHOLYSHITWHATTHEFUCKYOUDIDNOTJUSTBRINGYOKOINTOTHIS

As the man introduced himself, Jarondo once more adjusted his glasses, this time tilting them slightly. Semos stopped bouncing the orb in his hand, and then shifted it in his palm, before bringing his thumb down on the illuminated part of the object. Then, he dissapeared in a flash of light, and when that faded, in his place was left a tall and shapely woman, with red hair and skimpy dress, and, most noticeably of all to Jarondo, a rather large rifle, which she then levelled at him, soon after speaking, then firing.

Jarondo processed the words and events at astonishing speeds. Semos disappears, and this woman appears. A different form, perhaps? Or an entirely different being? If so, is she one lesser, equal to, or greater in power than Semos? Might she already have witnessed our introduction, or is she utterly oblivious to the situation? No, none of that matters - I'm being shot at and I'd better do something about it. Jarondo lifted his right hand, swinging it to his left and across his body. The blast fired from the rifle approached Jarondo with what felt like agonising slowness, or maybe a boring one; or, could it be, that he was the one moving with a different flow of time? After he had lifted his hand, he swept it sideways with closed fingers and a flat palm facing outwards.

A shimmer in the air was left where his hand at moved, and a foot above and below it. The shot fired was now closer to Jarondo, and still moving at an unusual and inconstant velocity. He could see now it was a shell, a bullet, not a shot of light, but he could also make out other things about it. It was engulfed in a cloak of electricity or some other energy.

Then, the bullet met the shimmering in the air.

And faded into grey, mono-atomic dust.

From there, with the girl preparing another shot, and with time apparently resumed to a 'normal' pace, Jarondo reached into his pocket and pulled out a weapon, a pistol, a semi-automatic Desert Eagle. Powerful and dangerous, silver-cased and angularly-shaped. Jarondo brought the gun into a two handed grip, one on the handle, the other on the butt of it, and he squeezed off two booming shots, both aimed for each of the girl's kneecaps.