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Apollo: Six String Death
Played By: Starphoenix

Apollo: Six String Death by Starphoenix

TEAM: Reavers

SECTOR: Uptown

KIT CLASS: Everyman


Hall Of Fame!

Survival - 8 wins!

Brutal - 1 fatalaties!

Fight Record
League Wins: 8
League Losses: 3
Out Of League Wins: 0
Out of League Losses: 0
Total Wins: 8
Total Losses: 3
Drekis - Loss 0-0
Wind - Win 0-0
Common Knowledge - Win 0-0
Arm of Justiceness - Win 0-0
Runs-With-Madness - Win 0-0
The Guild Master - Win 0-0
The Killer of Time - Win 0-0
Drekis - Loss 0-0
Lucille St.Rapture - Win 0-0
Polemarchus - Loss 0-0
Summer Christmas - Win 12-11

In the past, I see a golden age of gods. The Greek Pantheon stood with pride as we ruled over the mortal world and helped cultivate them. Teach them new things. In the past, I see the ruins of old, the aftermath of the war with the Titans. The betrayal of the gods. I see the slaughter of the entire pantheon. Demeter fell like wheat at harvest. Poseiden blackened with his oceans and seas. Zeus died with the rumble of thunder. Artemis... Artemis died with the fading of the moon. The war was over, the Titans and Gods lay slain. Only three of us stood. Ares, the Warmaker, Hades the Judgement, and I, Apollo, The Artist. We stood in the center as Titans' and Gods' blood melded together. With Zeus dead, and our strength expended, we lost a majority of our influence over the world. We soon after made a pact between the three of us, we swore to one another that we would rebuild the pantheon eventually and bring a new age of humanity to pass. What we didn't take into consideration was the fact that humanity would come to terms without us and advance on their own. As we watched on, we saw them advance beyond our expectations and develop as societies. Brother living amongst brother, sister amongst sister, husband and wife abiding to their vows. But, as it tends to be, with the Greek Pantheon forgotten, our influences and own bodies rotted away. Without the belief of humanity, we withered away and floated from existence. There we lay, within Oblivion. Millenia of darkness, of non-feeling. As the other two gods faded away slowly, I was barely aware, always awake for those years of isolation. I figured it was the fact that they just couldn't hold on any longer. My mind stayed open and waited. Last of my kind, I stared upon the radiant darkness that is oblivion. I'm not sure why I never cracked, maybe it was the Hope that I held out for all those years. Faith in humanity if you will. I suppose it paid off. Gradually, the feeling in my body returned. The surface of the ground was cold as I awoke from my slumber in Oblivion. Looking around my surroundings, I could see everything. The city, the lights, the magnificent skyline. The pure unbridled beauty that lay before me had inspired my awestruck desposition. This was my utopia. For the first time in an eternity, I was happy. I quickly joined the society that accepted me readily. This place, Khazan, was a wonder to me. The God of the Arts, I was eager to start anew. It was to my horror that I discovered that my stay in the Oblivion had served to warp my abilities slightly. No longer could I just create music, but those that heard it would wither away. My art made those who witnessed it, burst into flames. No matter what I did, all it brought was death. After a while, I decided to wander aimlessly. Driven from the one passion that I had, I knew now that I couldn't revel in the paradise before me. It was like being able to see perfection, but have no part in it what-so-ever. It was my Tartarus. For years, I drifted about the city. Only able to see and hear, never to touch the art I so loved without corrupting it in some manner. One day, after a nasty binge, I awoke in an apartment. A lone woman sat over me and caressed my hair. The hollow look to her eyes gave away her blindness, yet it didn't seem to matter. Wordlessly, she bound my self inflicted injuries from the previous night (It had been a long night), her touch was gentle and felt like the down of a dove. Her face was full of innocence. So pure, so full of life. Her name was Artemis... such a beautiful name. She allowed me to stay with her, trusting me as much as she did. I didn't question her judgement, I simply went along with her decision. The following months were pure bliss. I soon found out that she was an artist in her own right, a painter to be precise. She painted some of the most surrealistic pieces this side of the Khazan Finer Arts Museum. We would spend time just talking about art, hours upon hours, over a mug of mint green tea. Never had I met someone who had been so impassioned by art... not since myself. Then, it all came crashing down. I awoke one morning to find the apartment cleaned out. From the food in the cabinets to the sheets and linens on the matresses. It was as if she was never even there. Scouring the apartment, all I found was a note saying, "Over Ocean and Under Pale Sky." Nothing more. I was lost. Few times in a god's life are they lost, and my impending depression was just beginning to settle in. With only that single clue to go off of, I felt the premonition of despair and struggle. An emptiness started to claim the inside of my body as it ate away at my heart and soul while my shell wondered the streets of Khazan without guidance. As the ache in my body grew, I needed an outlet, and so, I turned to music. I didn't care about the consequences at this point, I just needed to release, let go of it once and for all. Grabbing ahold of a battered and old harmonica from a nearby trashcan. When the tune left my lips, I was surprised at the resulting sound. The music, unlike before, felt right. No death. No oblivion. Just pure music. The crests of the notes hit were astounding as I played that harmonica for all it was worth in the streets of Khazan. As I played, a small flame rekindled within my being. A certain hope, a glimmer that peeked ever so slightly at my naked soul. In the present, I see a new world of change. It is balancing a razor between corruption and anarchy. Artemis' disappearance was not uncommon for someone in her position. Artists were coming into higher demand as of late, and the number of eccentrics outnumber the norm by a fair enough ratio. It doesn't take rocket science to figure out that only a wealthy individuals could have the power to remove a person and all trace that they were there. I turn to the steaming underbelly of the city for clues. I'll gut the entire city if I have to find my little Surrealist. I see the future, it brings Death.

 

Personality: Calm. I can't tell you how good it feels to be perpetually in a state of non-motion and non-stress. Floating so close to Oblivion, enough to make one lose their mind. Keeping a quiet rage, focused eye, and above boredom by inches, gazing through the hollowed world of the darkness. Seeing the center, the blackest darkness that perpetrates its awareness to all that it surrounds. Oblivion's funny like that. Trying to continue to dominate itself when its already won. Kinda rubs off on ya after a few millenia. Always trying to take full control of myself, even when everything's fine. Keeping a mask of calm to hide the neurosis within. Keeping control.

 

Strength:

 

Weak BELOW normal human strength -
can bench press 50 pounds (maybe).
Agility:

 

Superior This fighter can dodge, weave and move
with the grace of an Olympic gymnast.
Body:

 

Weak BELOW normal human endurance.
Goes down easy and stays there.
Mind:

 

Standard Normal human mental resources.

Phoibus Champion

  • Power: Fire
  • Level:Ultimate
  • Ranged and Melee Attack! Attack is equally effective at range and up close.
  • Multi Attack Attack can hit multiple times during one strike.
Shining Phoibus, glistening brightly here. / Thy flames are in everlasting burning. / Let them cling to thy naked surface, dear, / As they slither about your face, turning. /Hold fast, their bites do not harm thy body. / They merely dance the dance of red madness. / Carving their scars with wisps of smoke, oddly. / The crackle is the language of sadness. / Go forth with crimson glory, take my hand. Burn with my passion, dwindle with my death. / We shall act together, shaking the land. / Cross the shallows, amidst my battered breath. / Go forth into the world, shine your gold light. / Champion the cause of Apollo's sight. (Sonnet)

Mural of Forsaken

One of my greatest masterpiece. I can still remember the texture and style of it. The pain and sweat that ran through the picture. The devastation was crystal clear. The agony and suffering were all evident. The realism was peerless and yet, it seemed to speak a truth. For every incident, there is a reason. Spontaneous are not, it is always foreshadowed in some shape or form. The mural is engrained in my memory. The shapes, the strokes of the brush, they all show me the dangers in store. From then, until now. Throughout the ages, and into the future. It is trapped in the past, but secure in the future. It is a paradox, yet a law of nature. It is confusion in its base element. It is the present.

Will of Verse

I run with the willows. / And swim with the fishes. / Fly with the birds, / And dig with the bitches. / I think like the fox, / And sing with the cats. / Counting my locks, / I chill with the bats. / All are one under the sun. / One thought, all think. / I aim my instrument like a gun, / And shoot my enemies to Helsink.

Resistance: Arcane Lore

In the name of the true and the powerful, / I stand before you and offer my strength to strike down the wicked. / I bade them back and into Hades' inferno. / Beat them off with the grace of music, and dignity of art. / Begone!! / Followers Of Circe!! Return to thy foul smelling caverns and writhe in the torment of Tartarus. / Ones who tempt with the forbidden lores and bring ruin on us all! / I break our pact with thee and hold no ties with your kind. / You shall no longer hold power over us, / and no longer taint Elysium with thine power. (Ancient Chant before the Great War of Titans and Gods)

Understanding the Rhythm

  • Power: Sword Master
  • Level:
  • Melee Attack Attack usable only hand to hand.
To play the rhythm, you have to understand the rhythm. And to understand it, you have to learn it inside and out. Frontwards and backwards. You have to feel each and every note to make it work. You can't just bring noise to the instrument, it needs to be nurtured and carefully, with precision, brought out to display its true beauty and significance. What could be more beautiful than the well