Gobrhend [R]

[sengoku]

Name: GaXXXX Xf GXbXX


Nickname: Gobrhend
"HXXo Xf GXbXXXs"


Age:
Physical Age: 34
Actual Age: Complicated.

Gender: Male


Species: Human (Technically)
-He doesn't grow hungry, nor does he become thirty
-He has a finite time limit to his life, and will disappear within a year or so, though he is unaware of this.

Position:
-Precarious Alignment; he could easily lose his will to restrain himself, sending him down the path of "Evil". Strength of will and support could aide him in learning to be "Good", though he will perhaps never be fully cemented amongst those of the light.

-No Affiliations

Powers/Abilities/Techniques/Skills:
Oh boy.
He certainly hasn't aged well.

As it stands, he only seems to be abnormally strong and agile for a human. He doesn't have much else going for him, and seems to lack much magical ability.

To compensate however, it cannot be emphasized enough how good he is with a sword; it's all he has, and the fragments of clear memory he has are associated with swordplay and techniques. Combined with his abnormal strength and speed, he'd make a capable physical combatant. Still probably going to get blasted by a bloody mage, though. . .


Weapon/Items:
Gobrhend is not, as one might think, the name of the man wielding the sword: it is the name of the sword that the man wields, that the man has also taken the name of. Thankfully, his blade is in no way sentient, and he can freely use it's name without confusing anybody... Mostly.

It appears to be a simple sword at first glance: It is about three feet in length, double edged and with a cruciform hilt, the grip wrapped in faded leather. It's home is a scabbard forged of dull grey metal, simple and effective. The blade can be used comfortably with one or both hands.

The blade is, however, of superb craftsmanship: It is wrought of a crimson metal far stronger than steel, and was crafted with the greatest techniques of "his people". It's edge has remained sharp even throughout the many years of disuse brought on by it's master's... Retirement, and Gobrhend (the man) has asserted he has total faith that Gobrhend (the sword) will never dull. This assertion is, in fact, correct: It was made as it was to serve as an icon of "his people", and despite their hatred of magic, it was inlaid with enchantments on top of their metal working techniques. It will not succumb to rust nor tarnish, and will remain forever sharp. At one time, it also bore the "legacy" of his people, and was much more than a simple sword: If his memory serves, he recalls the blade releasing "blasts of light" so powerful that they could batter down the walls of castles easily. Those glory days, however, are long past, and the blade cannot even muster a flicker of light, let alone a destructive blast. It's future is that of a simple sword... Though it's lingering enchantments have allowed it to deal damage to the Heartless and Nobodies.


His armor, or rather, what is left of it, is wrought of the same metal as his sword and is very durable. It does not, however, bear the same enchantments as the sword does and, though it it a good defense against most mundane weapons, it will still be easily dented, dinged and pierced by more mystical methods of attack.

Picture: N / A


Appearance: "The Old Man" appears worn and ragged, indeed. His hair is nearly shoulder length and a deep brown colour, framing a grizzled and worn face, with lips in a nearly permanent scowl. His eyes are a pale colour, the same colour as ice, and are always sharp and watching; he doesn't like to be taken by surprise.

The body that this worn face is attached to is, despite his inactivity, in remarkably good shape: He is well muscled and stands taller than most, quoting it as "Six Marks exactly". Scars cover his chest and his arms, ranging from the barely noticeable to the glaringly obvious (this being a diagonal "gash" from the left shoulder to the right hip), though he has no "unusual markings" outside of these.

He recalls that he once possessed a great suit of crimson armor, and wore that like his second skin. He's lost it by now, and has a much less imposing appearance. In the stead of armor plates, his upper body is covered by a worn leather tunic, dull gray in coloration. His right shoulder is covered by a shoulder-plate of dull red, held in place by a leather strap that circles down over his chest and around his back. This strap is also connected to a piece of hardened leather, stretched over his heart for a bit of protection. He wears gauntlets of a similar coloration as his shoulder-pad on each hand, with these extending to just an inch or so short of the elbow. Around his shoulders he wears an ancient cloak of gray, worn to the point that it doesn't drape down any farther than his shoulders; in it's current state, it resembles more of a very short scarf than anything.

His lower body is covered first by worn leggings of dull black, and third by "baggy" pants of a dull brown fabric, held up by a leather belt with a silver buckle. These pants are tattered near the ankles, and appear to have had their fair share of use. To cover his feet, he wears simple moccasins, also of a dull brown leather. His leggings act as his first "layer" of clothing, while his pants act as his third: Between these are a pair of greaves, one for each leg, of dull crimson metal. These cover the ankles and extend up to also protect the thigh and, though thin and lightweight, they are quite sturdy, giving his legs adequate protection that most people won't realize he has until they hit it.

He wears the scabbard of his sword attached to the left side of his belt, in easy reach of his right hand. If one had to sum up his feel in a handful of words, these would most likely be "world weary and worn".


Personality:
At first encounter, Gobrhend would seem to be just an ordinary, if quiet, man. He is not quick to anger nor raise his voice, and is polite, though he usually doesn't say more than the minimum needed. He is staunch in the face of adversity, and handles even chaotic situations in the calmest of manners. He doesn't come off as outgoing or anything of the sort, and just seems to be... There, existing, taking each day as it comes his way.

Naturally, the surface is a mask.

Beneath his soft-spoken demeanor is a conflicted and lost man. He remembers his past, but only in vague details, and is unsure of just who he was during it. He had swordsmanship driven so hard into his body that fighting with such a weapon comes naturally to him... But for what purpose was he taught so thoroughly? He gets twitchy and evasive if asked about his past, not because he doesn't like to talk about it, but because he simply can't. It's muddled, and may as well be lost to him.

What isn't lost from that time, however, are his wild emotions. It is because of his past that he is so disciplined but, if he were a lesser man, he would be best described as a "raving, blood-thirsty lunatic". He hates. Everything. If it breathes and comes into his proximity, he has the desire to make it suffer. If it doesn't breath and comes into his proximity, he wants to smash it into pieces. He doesn't feel empathy for creatures that suffer, and actually feels pangs of joy when he hears the cries of the tortured living. If he were the reason they were suffering, then he feels he would be even happier, and that scares him. The most terrifying thing in the world is not the inevitability of death, or anything like that... It's the possibility that, if he remembered his past, that he could go mad from the revelation. What he fears is the possibility that he could want to make things suffer, actively pursue that goal, and find no greater happiness.

But why would he keep himself from such happiness? If destruction is what he so dearly wishes for, why not embrace it and destroy until he is, in turn, destroyed? It's a simple answer, but he keeps it dear and uses it as his anchor to sanity: "They don't deserve it". His memories may be shrouded in a fog that he cannot penetrate, but he can say with certainty that any creature he could encounter today is not at fault for his seething emotions and his inability to feel compassion. The creatures of these worlds have done nothing to wrong him, and so he should leave them in peace... Though he is not above self defense, and will also step in to defend others in certain situations.

It is from his conflicting emotions that a complicated feeling of guilt has arisen. He has, indeed, done nothing to wrong these creatures... But he feels that he is not worthy of even being in their presence as, even if he suppresses the desire with every fiber of his being, he still wishes to destroy anything he comes across. He is so convinced that he is a monster beneath the few "chains" that hold him to sanity that he is trying desperately to avoid showing even a little of his "true self": In combat situations, he has to force himself to think and act calmly, rather than flying into a blinded rage. In any other situation, he must compose himself, and act politely, even in the face of someone who is arrogant and evil. He must take the path that a "hero" would take, helping those who cannot help themselves and punishing the wicked. He hopes that by embracing this opposite of his true nature that he can eventually "become the mask". Perhaps, one day, he will wake up to find that he truly does desire peace for all living things, and that he is happiest helping others. Perhaps, one day...

A third side to his inner turmoil is, of course, his feeling of alienation. He remembers very little, but he remembers that he is not from these worlds. Creatures like "Heartless" and "Nobodies" didn't exist where he came from, the light and the dark were not so heavily emphasized... Everything is so vastly different and so very alien. The creatures of darkness, rising to fight against the (mostly) carefree and enthusiastic heroes... He feels like this kind of world shouldn't exist outside of a fable, and that he should not exist within such a world. He has many theories as to why he is in such a world (that he is sleeping, that he was put under a spell, etc.) but he cannot be sure of the validity of any of his assertions. Even if it weren't for his undying and unjustified feelings of rage, he would find it hard to "connect" with any of the people and creatures around him. He feels like a stranger in a land that wasn't made for him, a chess piece in a game of checkers, as it were... He just doesn't belong there, and he never will.


Original World: He has faith that he called it "Ekke". He also has faith that it was a war-ravaged place, where "a lot of different cultures and creeds could never find it in themselves to get along". He notes that, besides humans like himself, there were many other types of creatures of all sorts of sizes and skill sets... Though he can't for the life of him remember much else, even what it is they were fighting over.

Current World: Radiant Garden


History:
Once Upon A Time,
Perhaps In The Future, Or Maybe Long Ago In The Past...

A child was born to a well respected family, a family of knights and mages that served the Kingdom of Man. From a young age, he was instructed in the sword and the spell, showing proficiency with both even in his youth. It was a good life, as the child was given all he wanted, even if he had to work for some of it. As the child grew older, it became quite apparent that he was a prodigy: He excelled above all others, and rose quickly to become a knight at the side of the very King. Despite his rapid ascension to power, he never once grew prideful: It was his voice that helped to sway the King's cold heart, convincing him to give more aide and attention to his subjects. These subjects naturally came to love their dear knight, their champion, and it was soon that he was spoken of all across the kingdom: The young knight, who sought to bring health and happiness to a once battered kingdom. Of course, there were threats beyond that of a once cold King...

At the borders of the Kingdom of Man was a great range of mountains and broken forests. This shattered land was populated by many clans of monsters, the most prominent of which were those called "Giants". Though they stood only a few heads above a man, they possessed strength far beyond one, and a single of their kind had been known to tear through dozens of Humankind. This Kingdom of Monsters, led by the King of Giants, was a volatile nation: The slowly recovering Kingdom of Man's first real challenge since the birth of it's favorite knight would be a sudden invasion from the Giants. Armies were mobilized and, though the King and his family protested, the favored knight rode out to join the battle. Theory put to practice, one might think the young knight would have faltered... But, alongside his brave comrades, his skills shone and instilled courage in his brothers. The invading monsters, just a few months after the first skirmishes, already feared this knight. Mankind's "Giant Killer", who even battered and bloody led his armies to victory with powerful spell and elegant swordplay.

Thus it was that the first war with the Kingdom of Monsters lasted only a year and a half: the Armies of Man, led by capable generals and the knight himself, repulsed every attack that the Giants and their ilk could throw at Mankind's borders. Eventually, their monstrous kind retreated to lick their wounds, sending their most diminutive of servants to broker a cease fire. Feelings about the ceasefire were mixed, though the knight implored his people to accept: Both sides had taken heavy losses, and pressing the engagement into the Giant's territory would be folly. So it was the war ended, and the two Kingdoms retreated to tend to their scars. The knight was hailed as a hero and a paragon, the kind of person who could forgive his most bitter of enemies. He did not like such praises heaped upon him, but ignored them to focus on his work: There was much to be done for the Kingdom.

A few years passed and, almost predictably, war broke out yet again. The Giants and their ilk could stomach the bitter taste of defeat no longer, and launched a new offensive against the borders of the Kingdom of Man. Their preemptive strike decimated several small villages, and it was with fury that the Armies of Man mounted their counter attack: There would be no forgiveness this time, and the Giants would be hunted and battered until the very last. Or, so the King wished. Such a mandate sat poorly with the chosen knight of Man, and it was with a heavy heart that he set out to battle...

Was it, perhaps, his desire to do good? Was it a desire previously unknown? Something changed in the knight during a fateful attack, several months into the fray: His company rode forth, into a tattered village of the Giant's most minuscule servants. These creatures barely came up to a Man's thigh and, though they were skilled in metalwork and other crafts, they were looked down upon by Monster... And Man. It was during this ensuing culling that the chosen knight of Man realized what was happening: These creatures weren't motivated by loyalty, but by fear. If the Giants won, they would continue to be slaves, abused and used for their skills. If the Kingdom of Man won, they would most likely be eradicated... There was no third option for these creatures, as they could not stand on their own. For some reason, then, the knight's loyalty broke: The Kingdom of Man could fend for itself without him, but these creatures, these creatures... They would exist forever in darkness, without his intervention.

He drove away his fellow soldiers with his magic and his blade, and his betrayal easily sent them fleeing. Though he managed to rescue only a handful of creatures, they agreed to lead him to the other tribes of their kind in exchange for his protection. Both the Kingdom of Man and the Kingdom of Monsters are unsure of what happened to him after that. The Kingdom of Man, seeing it's hero apparently join with the Monsters, was understandably demoralized. The Giants easily pushed them back for a few encounters... But began to lose momentum when they realized that their main force of slave labor was simply packing up and running to the desolate south. Though the Giants sent a few excursions to find out why their minuscule servants were running away, no scout ever returned... The war ground to a standstill, and both sides begrudgingly accepted an uneasy peace.

A year or three, perhaps more or less, and troubling news reached the Kingdom of Man and the Kingdom of Monsters: A great city had sprung up, as though from nothing, in the desolate desert of the south lands. Initial scouting parties confirmed that the city was composed entirely of the Giant's former slaves... Each of their tribes had apparently united, to form this cohesive whole. Surprisingly, it was the Humans who decided to mount an attack on this new nation: They saw this new fortress-city as the Giant's attempt to open up another front for a continuation of the war. The small creatures were known to be poor combatants, so only a small detachment of the Armies of Man was sent to crush this new city...

Promptly, they were obliterated by one man. Dressed in crimson armor, and with a blood red sword larger than a man draped across his shoulders, the warrior came as if from nowhere and struck like a force of nature. With spell and sword he sundered both earth and army, leaving only a few intact to take back his message to the Kingdom of Man: The knight who had betrayed them was now the "Hero" of these creatures, and neither Monster nor Man would ever enslave them again. The reappearance of their knight and the confirmation of his betrayal shook the Kingdom of Man to it's core: It was as though they had lost their guiding light. Unaware of Mankind's sudden loss of moral, the Giants were strangely content to let their former slaves build themselves a kingdom. If you had asked a Giant, he would have told you that he was proud the tiny creatures had finally grown enough backbone to stand up on their own, even if it cost the Giants dearly. So, the standstill continued, and this new kingdom was founded...

In time, the new nation reached out to it's neighbors, to sell services and trade goods. Human and Giantkind both initially refused to cooperate, threatening the fledgling nation. The Giants realized their folly first, and opened up their borders to trade with their neighbor. The immense fortress-city flourished, a bastion of hope for the former slaves... And at the center of it was their Hero. Though they treated him gruffly, each creature held in their heart a deep respect for his strength and courage: Who else would have stood up to both Man and Giantkind to set them free? They had no prophecies, no oracles and no hope... And then, a human of all things came to them, uniting the tribes under him so that they may finally achieve their freedom. It would be most accurate to say that they were wary of him for the longest time... It seemed too much like their wildest fantasies to be real. And yet it was so very real, and it filled their Hero with nothing but joy.

His betrayal of his former Kingdom was only a passing thought in the back of his mind, as he felt that this was what he had been born to do. He, perhaps thinking that it would all be well now, grew lax in his caution. When the King of Giants requested to see the Hero of his former slaves, to pay his respects and discuss the futures of their nations, he bid his people farewell for the moment and rode north to meet that great King. It was just a few days journey before he was in the hall of he who led the Monsters and, though they were vastly different, they greeted each other as new-found friends. How naive, how naive... In the halls of the Giant King, the Hero was distracted for a day by the revelry of the Giants; they had celebrated his coming with a feast, though he himself abstained from it. It was after this that he expected to speak with the king of Giants of the future of their people... It was after this feast that the King and his guards drew weapons and attempted to kill the Hero. Future? The former slaves had no future! Not if they had to rely on this petty Human to guard them...

Though he was able to escape, it was difficult to make his way back to his people: Ambushes from many a Monster lay in his path and, several times, he was delayed. When finally he rode out of the territory of the Monsters, it was a day more before he could see his people's fortress-city... His people's burning, ransacked fortress-city. In disbelief, the Hero rode forward, having realized too late that he had been tricked: He had been led away from his people by the Giants, so that the Humans could ride in and massacre the former slaves. He had been gone only a few days, and in those few days... There was not a single one left. He rode through the broken gates, charged through the destroyed streets and searched for a single sign of life... It was all to no avail, until he came to the very center of his people's fortress-city. There, at the base of a statue they had (against his will) crafted in his likeness, he found one of his people. The creature had held on just long enough to give their Hero his people's parting words:

"We always loved you, you know?"

The Hero could cry out to the sky all he wanted, he could shed all the tears in his body... Nothing would bring his people back. The last of them had faded in his very arms, and there was nothing he could do about it. What good had his strength been, in the end? He had just wanted them to live strong and free...

The memories are most vague from then on. The Former Hero returned to the Giant's court, fueled by rage and despair. He decimated them. Turning to his former homeland, he cut a swathe of destruction into the very earth: where he stepped was conflagration, and anything in his way was torn asunder. The Kingdom of Man fared no better than the Kingdom of Monsters: He annihilated his former King and the Court, and was given pause only when he realized that he had taken his revenge in the span of a few months. His addled mind was almost confused as to what to do... Before he recalled the "kingdom" of the north, the ancient forest that was home to The Root of All Magic. The Former Hero decided that this would be his final act of revenge: With his power, he would tear the Root asunder, stealing Magic itself from this world... Sentencing it to a slow death, starvation of the very force that was theorized to keep the living alive.

Even the Ancients of that land were nothing before him. Their most powerful magics crumbled before his hatred, shattered against the armor of his people and scattered to the winds. His blade cut their longevity to shreds, and cleared his way to the Root. The very source of Magic... The very source of life itself... And so it was that he tore it apart, destroying every last piece of it with his rage.



Here is where the memories end, you see. In fact, he doesn't remember most of the above at all... But his story continued, didn't it? Yes, it did: When he plunged his blade into the Root and tore it asunder, his body finally failed under the exertion. He achieved his goal, yes... But he died swiftly after-wards. He's been that way for a good long while... Almost as though he ceased to exist at all. The Root, however, planned differently for him: It could do nothing else but nourish his spirit, sending it far away from the world that had infused it with such hatred, such malice... With the last fleeting bits of it's power, it cast him far away from his world, in both space and time. He was dead for years and years, what could be called the remainders of his spirit and heart nourished by what could be called the last remnants of the Root and it's light... It seemed as though this unconscious and immaterial being was fated to vanish into nothing, all it's trials forgotten to history.

And then it came upon a place of many worlds. Floating aimlessly through the infinite expanse, the last of the Root's sentience came in contact with the worlds of Disney. Many places that, though they were threatened, managed to keep a light about them in the deepest darkness... This would do. The Root could not wash away the hatred that clung so deeply to it's destructor's heart, but it could perhaps give it "another chance". The hateful spirit had been called a "Hero" before... Provided he could overcome the miasma of his own hatred, he could rise to gain that title again here. So, the very last of the Root forged him a vessel, much like his former, and sent the wayward spirit into the Worlds.

"Gobrhend" isn't aware of it, but he's running short on time: It could be years, or it could simply be months, but he is truly fated to disappear. His container and it's contents are not so much falling apart as they are disintegrating into nothing: He truly doesn't belong among the Worlds, and the Root could not, as dearly as it wanted to, give him another life to live.

Since it could do nothing else, all it wished to do was give this wayward spirit a chance to reclaim it's former light. It could not reforge his skills in magic, it could barely keep his memories in tact, and it could not fully reforge his weapons and his armors... All it could do was give him a little time and his skills with one of his former swords, out of the hope that he would use them no longer for wayward destruction.

The result is yet to be seen.


Role Playing Sample:

It had not been very long at all that he had been here, in these strange gardens: He'd awoken, lost and confused, among a bed of flowers and had quickly made to hide himself away. This world, this strange world... He wasn't quite sure that this was where he should be. The days he had spent, ducking and dodging away from anything that looked remotely human, had been filled with thought and contemplation: How, indeed, had he come to be here? It was infuriating to wrack his memories and come up empty, with only the smallest bursts of lucidity to keep him from smashing his head into the nearest piece of stonework in frustration. And yet, the most frustrating part was not that he lacked memory of his purpose here... But that he lacked memory of why it was he wanted to kill everything that was here.

He had stomped a few flowers a day ago, for no reason other than he wanted to. Grinding them beneath his heel, he imagined that he could hear their wails of pain, and had let a smile come to his lips... Though that quickly died out when he realized just what, exactly, he was doing. He wanted to do the same to the few living creatures he had seen so far, but he had done his best to avoid... Confrontation. Wanton bloodshed was not, he surmised, the best way to recover one's memories and learn one's purpose for being in a specific location, as tantalizing as the option was. He would have to restrain himself, even through his frustration, lest he--

His thoughts were cut short by a blade whizzing through the air, towards his head, and it was only through a timely stumble to the side that he avoided taking damage. Yes... And then there were the other locals to worry about. These clattering creatures that looked almost ridiculous, with enormous blades for hands and barely any legs to speak of... He could see no real purpose in them, and see no real life in their glimmering yellow eyes. He wondered whether they were even conscious of what it was they were doing, and decided that he didn't really care: These creatures were harmful, not only to him, but to others... So destroying them would be an acceptable vent for his frustrations.

"... I hope you've made your peace, with... Whoever it is you happen to cherish." He said it, low and threatening, though he didn't quite understand why: These things had never made as if to understand him, and had only attacked what they saw. The fingers of his right hand had already curled around his crimson blade, drawing it from it's home when another of the comedic dark-knights attacked him; with a swift step to the side, he cleft it about the middle with the drawing of his sword, causing it to vanish in a dark mist. That they... Died in such a way seemed somehow fitting: They rose up, struck out based on their instincts, and were crushed easily by anything more skilled than they... It seemed as though he would have to take a few moments from his thoughts now: A group of the wiry little things was closing on him...

... Which was also accompanied by a sudden thump from behind. He cast his gaze curiously over his shoulder for a second, and noted that the smaller specimens had now been joined by even more ridiculous larger ones: These newcomers were equipped with large shields and fat bodies, which was a change from the small swordsmen he had thus far only contended with. Shifting where he stood, he brought his blade before himself and curled both hands tightly about it's handle. He tried to keep it from rising up, but the thrill was causing his lips to curl into a smile... Somehow, fighting like this, venting his anger, even on creatures that might not deserve it... Felt right. He would chastise himself for it later, but for now... With teeth bared in a malicious grin, he launched forward to cut his way through the creatures that opposed him. Combat now... Contemplation later.


Questions/Comments/Suggestions?
You'd be hard pressed to get me to explain exactly where his world fits in. The Root jettisoned him through "time and space", and I've left it ambiguous as to whether that was forward (via simply waiting for years and years) or backwards (via timey-wimey ball shenanigans). Whichever is more acceptable is what will be gone with.

I wasn't too sure what world to throw him in. Radiant Garden seemed like a good choice just because there were Heartless there.

My knowledge of Kingdom Hearts canon, though mostly up to date, is probably lacking in some areas. You see, most of my memory banks are taken up by all sorts of pointless factoids. Feel free to berate me and correct me if ever I get anything wrong, or if something will be unable to "fit".

I stayed up later than I should have making this. Though, is there too much or too little? Hmm...

To clear up his position on the time-line, he's only been around a little while, something like a month or three. He was simply dead for most of Kingdom Hearts' canonical story, with his own back story taking place... Well, a long time away from Kingdom Hearts' canonical story.

[Bluebird]

Greetings!! My name is Bluebird, and I will be checking over this profile. ^7

First of all, I wish to apologize for how long it has taken for someone to get to this. World Destiny has recently had to undergo some staffing issues, and they are just now getting settled, hence why I'm here!! Hello!!!

Secondly, I really enjoyed this profile! Gobrhend is solid, well-balanced, has a strong personality, and there are no contradictions that I can see. He has a great story (are you a writer??), and it's very well developed and caught my interest easily.

There are a few things to note, however. We're kind of wary on prodigies. Granted, Gobrhend's prodigiousness makes sense for his character and he does have weaknesses and you don't seem to be the type shouting it from the rooftops in your posts to avoid hits and desecrate your opponents with ease, but we would sit a bit better if the word was replaced or removed. Gobrhend could just be the top of his class, or excelled very well and quickly in swordplay. This is minor, however, more of a suggestion than anything else.

The biggest thing that keeps me from accepting this outright is that it doesn't seem to mesh with the Kingdom Hearts Universe very well. That is, Gobrhend dies and is whisked away to another universe by the Root. In Kingdom Hearts, all worlds are connected, and there are no alternate universes as far as I am aware. What I would love to see would be that perhaps at the end, Gobrhend opens his heart to darkness, corrupting himself and maybe losing his memories. Then, when he tears the Root asunder, he accidentally unleashes the Heartless invasion upon the world. Just an idea to help you incorporate this character and world with the Kingdom Hearts Universe.

I see the last time you logged in was at the end of last month, so I'm going to give this two weeks to hear from you. This is a great profile and I don't want to see you disappear, so I'm extending a longer time frame just in the hopes that you'll come back to us.

Oh! Also, what are the x's in his name? Just something he doesn't remember?

[Bluebird]

Swept away by the Activity Check. This is my saddest day… ( . .)

If you ever come back around here, please re-register your name and post Gobrhend up in this board for a lookover. I promise we'll be better. T_T

Rejected…