OOC; Alternate Universe

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 17:17:04 GMT

This is where I'll be writing down the details of this Sync's Universe.

Under Construction!

OOC; Application

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 23:47:17 GMT

character.
CHARACTER NAME: Sync the Tempest (in this AU he’s also referred to as the current Fon Master Ion)
CHARACTER AGE: 15 (4 in replica years)

AU?

Despite the firm pillars of memories that hold it in place, the Score could also be a fickle thing when pushed hard enough.

The real Fon Master Ion hated the Score, loathed the ignorant followers that associated themselves with its ‘wonders’, and utterly detested the thought of being controlled by it. He had found out at an early age that his life held little to no meaning to its memories, and thus would perish at the meager age of twelve. He was shocked, but more importantly infuriated and betrayed at the thought of being tossed away so carelessly. Ion was slowly descending into a spiral of moral digression, desiring nothing more than to change what had been written down absolutely.

However, he knew by this time that it was far too late for him to change his own course of life. Yet that didn’t mean that all was lost. There were others who also despised the Score’s existence, who wanted to erase it entirely and purge Auldrant from its sin.

One of those people introduced themselves as Van Grants, a man who both planted and manipulated these cynical seeds in the child’s mind. Even at the tender age of seven, Ion was maturing rapidly, and along with that the sprouts of his insanity. His most personal thoughts became a cesspool of raging tragedies, plucking and picking out the perfect plan to massacre all of mankind. Why should they deserve life when he, a direct messenger of the Score, suffer a predestined death?

He came to a conclusion with Van to prepare a mass genocide for the Originals, replacing them with replicas to create a new world which would soon prosper fruitfully without the weeds of the Score entangling its roots into their lives. Yet because his own end was drawing near, it was a necessity to prepare his own replica to take his place to keep Malkuth and Kimlasca’s political struggles at bay. It need not be a perfect one, but one whose abilities were closest to his own.

It was easier said than done.

Even from the start it proved to be a daunting task to match the physical attributes with his powers, and the man in charge of this project, a ‘Dist the Reaper’, provided nothing more than heaps of failures to befall upon his presence. And as Ion gazed down at the very first’s pale, disgustingly deformed body; the glazed eyes, the trail of saliva that poured from its mouth and inhuman, incoherent babbling, a surge of white-hot fury overtook him. Without so much as a warning he summoned a fonic arte and beheaded the creature right then and there.

Replica after replica, there was something horribly wrong with each one, and each time they were met with the same, horrific fate. Imperfection to this degree was simply unacceptable, and Ion was growing increasingly frustrated by the whole ordeal. But admittedly, there was something rather addictive about disposing trash with his bare hands. By the time he murdered the fourth he was obsessed with his new hobby, taking his dear sweet time until the body lay in a state of rigor mortis.

All hope was nearly lost.

And then the fifth replica was born.

Even before his first breath, he was a pinnacle of perfection compared to the others that trudged the path before him. His eyes were clear with curiosity, and a small sneeze enveloped the boy at the first whiff of fresh air. Ion was simply ecstatic from the results, kneeling down to cup the latter’s chin and smiling as if he had just been given a new toy on his birthday.

It wasn’t until a day or so passed did Ion discover that the fifth replica’s powers were disappointingly weak, shadowing every shred of potential he had with what he now considered as ‘junk’. His once softened eyes grew cold and calloused, insulted that a replica would trick him into believing it was the one, even if he hadn’t been aware of it.

Meanwhile, life had been a curious thing to exist in to this newly born creation. He knew not of the turmoil or danger he had placed himself in simply by being born. However, it wouldn’t have been long before reality set in, sending him crashing downwards from this temporary state of euphoria. It all started when he felt a harsh sting on his cheek from where his Original had slapped him, and since then a feeling of absolute terror would come to welcome him each time he caught sight of this psychopath.

The replica was treated differently from his predecessors, as he was carried off into a secluded part of the Cathedral the day after his birth. The room itself was even more Spartan than most prison cells, without even a bed to climb onto to rest his weary body. Yet this was where the boy spent the first six months, chained to one corner whenever his Original wasn’t using him.

Even after the first week he felt as if he had no more tears to shed from the pain and sorrow that he suffered. Scars mangled his body every which way from when he was sliced or beaten as his Original preferred to keep his methods rather barbaric. There was a time where he forced the replica’s hand closer, only to pick and rip out two fingernails before proceeding to rub the wound against the rough surface of the floor, enjoying the hoarse shrieks that came from the latter’s throat.

The replica suffered nearly a dozen broken bones, and only when he was in a near-death state did the Original call over a healer before killing them as well. Excuses could always be made as war was nearly upon them after all. To further his amusement, he kept the fresh body nearby his broken toy, leaving it to fester for several days until he was sure the latter could vomit no more.

For six months he suffered like this, yet each day brought him closer to the brink of insanity. There came a time where he almost couldn’t decipher the pain, a sort of nullifying detachment from his body that worked only sparingly. However, even he could tell in this blurred state of consciousness that the terror before him was growing weaker, and by the day of his predestined death there was that small speck of hope of giving his Original his just rewards.

He’d never killed a person before, yet the drunken thrill of it was enticing. His deranged smile matched perfectly to that of his Original when he twisted the latter’s neck, clawing his face until his hands were completely drenched in blood. It was then that he made his leave, crawling out of the tiny room and slid down the hollow hallway until he stumbled across a partially open door at the dead end. Yet he couldn’t believe what he saw when he climbed inside, as there, on a table, laid a being that looked exactly like the boy he had murdered minutes ago. He was drowning in himself again, dragging the body down and proceeded to mangle it into an unrecognizable state.

It wasn’t until much later did he discover that he killed a replica, and in more precise terms, the one that was meant to replace the Original once he passed away.

Van was the first one to stumble across the scene, watching with mild interest as the replica clawed desperately at the metal of the table, unaware that he was staring right into his own reflection. The man’s plans were dampened by this sudden turn of events, but he wasn’t exactly a stranger to improvisation. After knocking the replica unconscious, he carried the limp and bloody body off to another part of the Cathedral, right to the very room where his most trusted God General stayed, Gailardia.

The man’s instructions were clear for the most part. With no other replicas to use, they were left to build off from the one that remained. At first the feat proved to be downright impossible, as the boy refused to be touched or handled in any way by the blond. Cups and dishes lay shattered before them both when the child tried to throw them back at the God General. But despite all of this, Gailardia persisted and slowly but surely taught him how to walk, how to talk, and not once did he raise his hand in anger or frustration. It took a few months, yet through their time together the replica gradually accepted the other’s company until he ceased flinching altogether when someone touched him. The monster inside him had quelled, and he owed much of it to the patient God General, especially since Gailardia helped come up with a name for him.

It was regrettable…The Synchron level was a problem.

But now that Sync’s knowledge had grown vastly since his birth, the next part of Van’s plan took place. Since the boy’s powers were noticeably weaker than his Original’s, the Commandant drew a symbol over the replica’s chest to enhance his fonic abilities. Yet when it came to coercing him into the very clothes Ion wore he flat out refused. Several times he was driven into hysterics, only to be guided forward once more by Gailardia and the other God Generals. It was a painful feat both physically and mentally, but he was promised that he didn’t have to wear it all the time. No, even now the Commandant spread the word that the Fon Master had grown increasingly ill, granting them some time to prepare him for his public debut. If Sync were to pose as the Fon Master he could take it off when he wasn’t in public and was thus offered a spot as a God General.

And like the others, he had reason enough to join their escapades, having been given a life he had no desire for. The bitterness that washed inside him was unbearable, and so after a few more words of encouragement he finally agreed to the plan.

Three years have passed since he reluctantly took the title Fon Master for the Order of Lorelei, juggling his double life with the help of the other God Generals. It was a tiresome task and at times left him completely exhausted, but he knew it would all be worth it in the end.

PERSONALITY:

For those who know him as ‘Fon Master Ion’, Sync appears to be a kind and gentle person who cares deeply for the Score’s followers, always more than happy to reach a hand out for those in need. He is the epitome of a pacifistic leader, yet there are times where he knows to be forceful. His influence is one of the reasons why Malkuth and Kimlasca are still on peaceful terms, though rather grudgingly so.

But if only they knew the truth.

This fallacious demeanor of his serves its purpose by fooling the general populace of Auldrant, and if they were to know of his real personality they’d be shocked and appalled.

In reality, there is nothing gentle about this condescending replica. He puts himself out to be as sardonic and malicious as he can, belittling every single trait about a person until they break down into tears or lash out at him out of anger. Under the name ‘Sync the Tempest’, he’s more than happy to tell people that he’s better than them and if they tried to challenge that little fact they were as good as dead. Like his Original, Sync was forced to mature quickly, so he isn’t as prone to using the word ‘idiot’ or ‘die’ a minimum of five times per sentence like his OU counterpart, but that doesn’t make him any better.

There is another part of him that can be borderline psychotic, but all of that is eventually washed away by an impenetrable wave of sorrow. Only to those close to him does he refer to himself as a ‘piece of trash’, as the Original Ion made sure to dig that little tidbit deep into his subconscious.

RELATIONSHIPS:

The Original Ion: Words simply cannot describe the sheer amount of hatred that Sync exuberates for his ‘beloved’ Original counterpart. The very thought of him, the months of horrific abuse he had to endure just for the sake of ‘pleasing’ Ion is enough to make the replica want to drop to his knees and hurl. Every fiber of his being seems to quake viciously for letting even a single syllable of the Original’s name pass through his lips. The former Fon Master is the reason why Sync holds this kind of cynical, sociopath-like personality when he isn’t displaying himself to the public as the very one he murdered. His own loathing even goes so far as refusing to gaze upon himself in the mirror for fear of what he would disintegrate to.

Van Grants: The man responsible for offering him a second chance after his heinous deed of killing the Original off. As far as things go, Sync hates that the only reason he’s still alive is to make sure Van’s plans go smoothly. However, he can’t help but find respect in the Commandant’s determination, and so follows his orders without much complaint.

Gailardia: If he wasn’t trying to preserve his pride, Sync would’ve been more than ecstatic to stay by Guy’s side with any chance he got. In many ways their relationship is similar to that of the Original Universe’s Luke and Guy, and with good reason too. Having worked with the replica for a good 2 years, Guy has shown himself to, not only be a trusting companion, but also a good friend. And even though Sync doesn’t convey it extrovertly in his actions, the air around him tends to change dramatically whenever the blond God General is nearby. He entrusts the man to help keep his head on his shoulders when he’s close to crumbling, to serve as a medium to lash out at when he’s overflowing with anger, and even a source to talk to when he has something on his mind.

The God Generals: I feel like they deserve their own section, considering the fact that I didn’t write much about them in my AU History. After Van and Gailardia, the God Generals are the closest thing to a family that Sync has since they’re the only ones that know of his double life. Each member has a favorable trait, whether it’s Legretta’s loyalty, Largo’s reliability or Dist’s… yeah. Also, since it’d just cause more trouble than it’s worth, I decided to drop Anise and Arietta from this AU so it’d be easier to piece everything together.

THIRD PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: (Write it like a drabble -- you are allowed to god-mode other characters for this sample. This should show your character, in his or her own universe.)

"Please remember that the Score is here to guide you towards the right path. The road to prosperity is not one you have to travel alone. There are those who walk this path with you, and so we must all work as one to bring us closer to our goals." Sync quieted down after his speech, allowing his words to linger about the audience hall and to those who’ve heard it with their own ears. He didn’t have to wait long to gain a response, however, smiling widely when an enthusiastic applause soon followed it.

Sync carefully stepped down from his pedestal, making his way through the crowd of followers and bid them all best wishes before removing himself from the hall altogether. But even then the cheerful expression remained on his face, making it all the more convincing that his own happiness was an extension for the hearts that he’d touched with his woven words.

But little did they know that this was the exact opposite of how the boy really felt. It was painful to keep the charade up for any longer as he traversed through the endless hallways of the Cathedral, eventually coming across the set of doors that lead to the Oracle Knight’s headquarters. He still held onto that face, though by then it was becoming a chore to keep it from crumbling. His pace quickened drastically and he found himself running to his destination before halting in front of the door and tore it open.

Sync didn’t even wait to close the door as he moved a hand upward and ripped off the headdress nestled neatly on top of his hair. The aforementioned accessory was soon lost in a sea of garments as the replica gracelessly removed the rest of his outfit, causing the only witness in the room to raise an eyebrow amusedly.

"You know, one of these days you’ll get yourself caught acting like that," Gailardia warned, setting his sword down with a sigh and stood up from his bed. The replica in turn merely scoffed at the man’s words, kicking the garments aside and made a beeline for the closet.

"If they didn’t notice anything by now, I doubt they’ll mind if I cut a few corners." After haphazardly tossing about half of the closet’s contents onto the floor, Sync finally came across a more suitable outfit and quickly began to dress himself while leaving the other God General to pick everything up.

"As long as you keep your act up anyway. You’re getting sloppy."

The boy rewarded him with another scoff.

"It’s not like it matters. All I have to do is throw a bunch of crap together about how the Score is all that is good and they’ll be like putty in my hands. I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying half the time," Sync announced, following it with a boisterous laugh as he fitted his mask over his face. Guy in turn just shook his head before offering a small smile in return.

People really were naïve enough to believe anything, weren’t they?