Did I type referee? Damn. I meant judge...Would I still need a character for that?

Just a simple one. Judge, referee, same thing.

Name: James Reddy
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 185 Kg
Age: 27
Occupation; Action Games Referee
Weapons: None.
Clothes: Black pants, a black and white stripped shirt and a black cap.
Appearance: Brown hair, blue eyes and fair skinned.

Intro:
Today was a good day. Lots of fights to watch and he didn't ever have to get attacked. He put on his black cap and began to wait for the first match.

This was harder than I first expected...But here it is.

Are the people who said that they plan on making characters actually going to do it.

Don't let this die fella's.

If this doesn't fill out by Friday, I'm going to see it through with what we have. Get your sheets written if you can.

have you considered asking msherbatskaya? to judge that is.

or however you spell her frakking name. if you cant find her locate her through my friends list.

I wonder why Darth Mobius, Laranexis, and Khedive Rex haven't posted their bio's yet? Could they have forgotten? I wonder what it would take to remind them...

Apologies for the shamelessness. I just think this would be awesome if more people participated.

I'm not that good at writing long and engaging posts (and I should warn you this would be my first RP) but I'll give this a try if you're still looking for more people. Will post character sheet once I finish writing it. (might take a while)

Edit: And Logician, what's with all the apologies?

The Iron Ninja:
I'm not that good at writing long and engaging posts (and I should warn you this would be my first RP) but I'll give this a try if you're still looking for more people. Will post character sheet once I finish writing it. (might take a while)

Edit: And Logician, what's with all the apologies?

Humorous effect, mostly. There's another reason, but I'm feeling to lazy to explain it right now.

Apologies for the confusion.

Well, here it is.

Name: Mortimer Jorgensen

Moniker: "The Iron Ninja"

Occupation: Professional Ninja Chef/ Hobo

Age: speculated to be between five and one hundred and twenty seven years of age.

Height: 5'9

Weight: At times as light as a feather, at other times as heavy as a sack of bricks.

Weapons: Diamond edged Spatula forged in part using the techniques of an ancient Japanese sword smith
also has a bandoleer with three shurikens, one Kunai (ninja throwing knife) and five custom made cigars (not really a weapon, but worth mentioning)

Clothes: Black Ninjitsu clothing for the most part, except for a large white chef hat (which may well be hiding a secret weapon of sorts), owing to poor design, his Ninja face mask covers his eyes completely, a disadvantage the Iron Ninja has had many years to adapt to.

Backstory:
Mortimer's parents threw him out of the hospital window five days after he was born. It was not the best of starts for young Mortimer, for whom life would not be easy for the years to come either. He spent his first few years of life in the company of shrews. Hunting and eating earthworms, beetles, mice and the occasional bird. He grew quickly, and soon the Shrews could not catch enough to feed him, so he set out on the great journey that continues for him to this day.
By chance one day, he stowed away aboard a ship heading for the mystical Island of Japan. Once there he quickly became known for his epic battles with the various robots, giant mutant animals and (reputedly) Domo. It was apparently Domo, once bested in combat, that saw the potential for this young boy (barely five years of age). He took Mortimer to a secret mountaintop temple, where an old and wizened man had been waiting. He saw that Mortimer was the boy that he had been waiting for all these years straight away, and immediately began to tutor him in the various arts of Ninjitsu and Cooking. Mortimer learnt quickly, and after seven years of learning he was ready to spread the justice of the Ninja Chef code. He set out to rid the world of tyranny and injustice with the legendary Spatula that was held in the temple for thousands of years, awaiting his arrival.
But unfortunately for Mortimer the world was now a very different place. Gone were the shoguns and the giant robots. Gone were the Samurai and radioactive animals. In their place were cars, Televisions and Portable computers, the world no longer had any use for Ninja. Dejected, Mortimer turned to his other love, cooking. He hosted a Japanese cooking show called "Iron Ninja Chef" for many years, before the sponsors grew tired of him beheading the contestants and removed the Ninja aspect of the show. Mortimer, forcibly retited, now spends his days in a one room apartment, watching old tapes of his former glory. He knows that If he wishes to make a comeback in show business, he will either need to break some necks or get some cash, but preferably both.

Strengths:
-Quick to adapt
-Speed, evasiveness and sneakiness of a Ninja.
-Not too shabby at cooking

Weaknesses:
-Never had a proper education
-Has limited visibility with a mask on (but enhanced visibility with the mask off)
-Prone to tantrums.
-Confused by big words.
-Thinks that armour is for sissies and doesn't believe in bullets.

Intro:
The figure sat on the mouldy chair impassively, no light was on in the small room apart from the glow of the small television that occupied the space in front of him. On the television was Richard Simmons, stirring a cocktail of eggs and chicken heads with one hand, while franticly beating away his attacker with the other. The figure's eyes watered a little as the sound of Simmons's screams emitted from the set. The dark figure on the set, having decapitated his foe, held the head of Richard Simmons aloft and cried "Today's secret Ingredient was...Pain" before the screen switched to a grey fuzz with the words 'we are experiencing some technical difficulties, please bear with us', beside the words there was a picture of a bear with it's hands on it's head. The tape then finished and the television fell into static. The figure switched the set off and stood up.
"Won't you get hurt trying to find your way in the dark?" remarked a voice yet unseen. Mortimer turned to the sound, "How long have you been here?" The newcomer stepped out of the shadows "Oh i've always been here Mort, you just didn't know it" It was too dark to make out any of the stranger's features, but Mortimer could tell from his accent the man was Japanese in origin. "Are you a Ninja?" he asked, the stranger nodded "One of the best." Mortimer steadied himself "Then you are here to kill me?" The stranger took a while to answer, as if he wasn't sure himself "No... I came to give you a second chance." Mortimer sat down again "What is it you want then?"
The stranger moved across the room, though Mortimer didn't even see his legs moving, "I represent higher sources Mortimer, it's not what I want, it's what they want" He tossed at photograph at Mortimer's lap. It was of a man encased in blue armour, topped off with a horned helmet. The face was not visible through the visor. Mortimer turned the photograph over in his hands, the words 'Rome, Collosseum' were written neatly in red ink on the back. Mortimer looked up from the photo at the stranger "What do they want from him?" "They want him dead, there is a tournament, join it, kill him. And you will have your cooking show back." Mortimer thought for a minute before looking up from the photo again and saying "I'll do it." But the stranger was gone, though he did hear a distant voice say "I know you will."

The plane journey over to Italy was not very comfortable. A young child was repeatedly kicking the back of his seat, in protest to the in flight movie, which was Meet the Spartans . Mortimer found the movie to also be pretentious, but refrained from beheading anyone, even if only to show that he was more mature than the little punk behind him.
A group of flight attendants were standing around him at all times, which Mortimer thought was a bit unfair for the other passengers. One of the crew knelt down to ask him a question "why can't you take off that black mask sir?", Mortimer rolled his eyes, then remembered that she couldn't see he was doing so and replied "I'm a Ninja madam, I don't ever remove my mask." He shuffled around in his seat to try and remedy the cramp that had developed, the flight attendants all jumped back. The more courageous one stepped forward again. "Sir? do you think you could store your suitcase in one of the overhead lockers please?" Mortimer opened the suitcase, inside was his spatula, and the hat... Mortimer thougt for a second, then decided he shouldn't put it on just yet. He placed the two objects on the seat beside him and stood up to put the suitcase into the locker. 'I'll never understand why they make me do this' he thought, 'You'd think they hadn't seen a Ninja before.'

Edit: Added this bit in when I realised we were starting from the third round story wise

The Collosseum looked a bit different from what he remembered. Wooden scaffolding covered much of the outside, where teams of italian builders were hammering busily away at the ancient stone, putting up cables to the three giant floodlights that now perched ominously above the old stadium. It looked somewhat tacky, covering the old with the new, but Mortimer brushed his disgust aside and found the door marked 'pariticipants'.
Inside the air was full with the smell of sweat. Over twenty fighters were training in a makeshift dojo. There was a polished wooden desk in the middle of it all, piles of neatly stacked paperwork adorned it and behind this sat a thin, bespectacled old man, who seemed to be waiting. A small paper note hung from the ceiling above the desk, in neat, black handwriting were the words 'reception'.
Mortimer strode cautiously towards the desk, taking care to avoid the sweaty mass of fighters as they swung clumsily at the training dummies. Reaching the desk, Mortimer opened his mouth to speak, ut the thin man beat him to it, "Jorgensen?" Suprised, Mortimer almost took a step backwards "er, yes." The man nodded and ticked one of the many peices of paper splayed out infront of him "Your coach already registered for you, he said you were bringing a... weapon" The man's voice noticibaly changed tone at the word 'weapon', as if he disliked even just saying such a word. He scooped up a peice of paper and held up a clipboard "I need to register what weapons you will be using, could you please empty them on to the desk."
The spatula was placed on the desk, the man excamined it for a second before feverishly writing on his forn, speaking as he wrote "one... tempered stainless steel spatula..." He glanced up at Mortimer breifly before adding "diamond edged." Mortimer pulled the weaponry off his bandoleer and dropped them ont the desk, then opened the suitcase and gently placed the hat down onto the desk as well. "Three... five bladed shurikens, one... Kunai..." The man then stopped "A chef hat?" Mortimer nodded, but the man shook his head "A hat is not a weapon sir, it is an item of clothing" He moved his eyes to the three cigars hanging loosely from the bandoleer and calmly asked "Do those cigars explode?" Mortimer looked down at them "No, just ordinary cigars" The man nodded slowly, then stamped the form and handed him his weapons back "You will find a small locker in which to put to put your personal effects down the hall to the right sir, please remember that fighting is reserved for inside the arena."

The locker was small, it had an accompanying single shelf and a stone bench. Mortimer took the hat out of the suitcase and held it with both hands, took a deep breath, then pulled it down over his head. Immediately the deep and hollow voice came rushing back into his mind "Didn't I tell you this day would come Mort?" mocked the hat of souls, "you swore off me, but you will always need to fight, and for that, you will always need me."
Mort almost fell over from the rush of power emiting from the hat, he responded in his thoughts 'I don't have a choice hat, if I had my way you would be floating in the breeze somewhere as particularly evil ashes, but you know full well why I can't do that.' The hat chuckled "Did you like the suprise? My mind is now a part of your's now Mort, you kill me and you'll soon follow suit." Mort flinched as the hat began to pour over his recent memories, it was an all too familiar feeling. The hat laughed "Oh dear, gone all nostalgic and bitter of late I see... So, our mark is this big armoured fellow then?" Mort nodded, then spun at the sound of creaking iron joints, behind him was his mark, turned away, tending to his own locker. The hat surged power into Mort's legs, he was already halfway across the room before Mortimer regained control, even then he struggled with his own legs to stop from moving forward more 'No! we can't just kill him off anywhere, it has to be in the arena.' Mort instantly regained control as the hat spoke "Bloody rules..."

If this isn't serious enough I could probably try writing another one.

You killed Richard Simmons.
I think I love you.

Oh good, I was begining to think the thread was over before it even started.
PM me when you have enough fellows to start.

Edit: Of course I could just periodically check myself... Oh and If I could have any preferences I would like to face ultra joe in one of the latter stages when it would be more epic.

I think I'll enter Applesauce Pete into this, hell, I can just keep going from RP to RP putting up new backround info on him, and eventually I'll have an entire biography, watch this post.

EDIT: My bio should be up sometime tomorrow, gotta sleep

I'll make Sozia a judge if you like. Does she just pick the fighter she likes best based on style? Sorry, that's probably up there somewhere, but I fell off a motorcycle a couple days ago and I'm still a little messed up.

No, just whoever's entry is superior. The rules are on the front page.

Name: Sozia Ordo
Height: 5'10
Weight: 175 lbs
Age: 37
Occupation: Property Manager, part-time fight judge
Weapons: Hard head, big mouth
Clothes: cargo pants, black t-shirt
Appearance: Curly ash blonde hair, freckles, big butt, kinda stacked.

Intro:
Grumpy as hell. Get fighting or I'll come down there and start banging on you myself.

Thats 3 judges. Great.

Sorrow, I was thinking that if we can't get enough people to play than maybe everyone could have two characters. That way there will be enough fights to go around ya see.