His name was Rattigan Link, a young lad of 16 and no percievable significance in the world. He had an average build, measuring 67 inches tall a good 130 pounds. He had exceptional physical capabilities, however, being stronger, tougher, faster, slicker, and smarter than most others his own age. His most incredible characteristic, though, was his capability of accessing the "Middle Ground", from where he could draw his sword, Axis, and his shield, Medius.


Rattigan was a sturdy, lean boy with a slim build, though he was quite muscular. His complexion was rather pale, as if his skin had never been exposed to light. He wore a flowing gray cloak that covered his body from the shoulders to his knees. Underneath, he bore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and a black pair of sweats, both emblazoned with the star-shaped symbol he had come to be known by. He wore a pair of boots that came up to his calves and fit snugly, made of a material that was conviniently both sturdy and light. He also wore a gray bandana that was also embroidered with his symbol and concealed his eyes behind a pair of thick shades. His hair was unruly, but it was all swept back in the same general direction, held up by his gray bandana. His eyes were a ghostly shade of pale-blue, the finishing touch to his unnerving visage. His face was almost always stone-hard and devoid of any spark of liveliness.

Don't be fooled by his ghoulish appearance, however. On the inside, he was full of emotions. He looked the way he did for one reason and one reason only: To disconcert his enemies. He could be much more effective in the field if he kept up a reputation of impassiveness and mercilessness Outside of the battlegrounds, Rattigan was truly the life of the party. He couldn't shut up, and he was always in a lively mood. Nobody could be around him and not smile. Unless they were fighting him.

Rattigan has learned many special abilities through access to the Middle Ground, the properties of which can open the doors if one can figure out how to utilize it correctly. The Middle Ground is a place where nothing is more significant than anything else, and thus, everything is the same. In the Middle Ground, a skyscraper would be no more than a speck, as would anything else. Splicing between the natural realm and the Middle Ground can have some very interesting effects. He can send things to the Middle Ground and retrieve them, but only if he is in contact, with the exception of his weapons. However, he can't send people to the Middle Ground, nor any othe living organism. He can summon things from the middle ground by mentally sifting through the contents of it to find exactly what he needs. He often likes to use this ability to conjure stars to rain down on his enemies. Rattigan also invented a special customized signature move that he likes to call Big Ben. To perform this move, he calls upon a special substance from the Middle Ground, a form of energy that changes properties based on the amount of light it is recieving. The more light, the more energy, but once the light level drops below a certain amount, it starts to gain dark energy. He takes this substance and sends it to the tip of his sword, which he then swings in a full circle in front of him, the energy leaving an elliptical trail behind it in the shape of a large clock. he then sends the circle of energy at his enemy, the more energy it is carrying, the more powerful the attack is. Appropriately, the power of the attack changes based on the time of day. The points of highest power are noon and midnight. However, the light levels are influenced by outside forces, including cloud cover, being inside, or using it while in the shade.

Story:

Rattigan looked about at the chaos with shock and awe. The strangers had swooped into their humble English home out of nowhere, completely ransacking the place. He had no idea why they were here or what they wanted, only that their forms were inconsistent, as if their essence was some sort of insubstantial matter. More to his surprise was his parents' reaction to the invasion. They seemed to have been prepared for the sudden raid, like the intrusion had been expected for a long time. As he watched his parents fight the assailants with weapons that had apparently materialized from nowhere, a voice broke him out of his trance.
"Run!" It was his mother, beckoning for him to leave. Rattigan ran, having been prepared for this eventuality. As he ran along the corridors of London, he remembered his father's tense briefings on what to do if this ever happened. He was to go straight to Leonard Guide (aka Leon), a close friend to the family. Rattigan became faintly aware of a scuttling sound behind him as he recalled that his father had left out the part about the trespassers being monsters. He ran on, forgetting about finding Leonard. Rattigan thought as he navigated the labyrinth of the city. He had to escape, but one wrong turn would mean...
Wrong turn. He realized morosely as he swerved into an alley. He turned back to leave, but it was too late, and the creatures were already barricading the exit. They slowly advanced on him, and Rattigan could see no route of escape. That left only the option of fighting his way out, not a likely plan to succeed, but he had to try. He charged directly for the imposing figures, brandishing his sword and…
What? He thought dazedly. Sword? Rattigan looked down, and, sure enough, a sword was in his hand. He hefted a shield as well. Sweet. He rushed at the offending beings, a new confidence flaring in his heart as he hacked away at them, rapidly thinning their numbers. But it wasn’t enough, as he was quickly overwhelmed by the multitude. The last thing he thought was,
Who is that guy running toward me? Then, darkness.

When Rattigan awoke, he was lying on a comfortable bed, feeling exceptionally well for someone who had just been mauled by a horde of monsters. As he stumbled out of bed, he became aware of the fact that he knew where he was.
“This is Leon’s place.” He thought aloud. His musings were interrupted by the rich scent of waffles and bacon.
No… He thought. Pancakes and bacon. Rattigan broke into a run, deftly steering himself toward the kitchen. When he arrived, the sight that greeted him was one that he would be able to use to blackmail Leon for the rest of his life…
“I didn’t know you cooked.” Rattigan said, trying in vain to stifle his laughter.
“What?” Leon inquired good-humoredly. “A guy’s gotta eat.” The pair shared a brief chuckle before digging in. Afterward, however, the mood became tense.
“So, what’s going on?” Rattigan asked brusquely.
“Whaddya mean?” Leon responded blamelessly, pulling out the “innocent-kitty” look.
“Don’t play dumb.” Came the reply. Then, thinking better of it, Rattigan added, “Or at least, pretend not to be dumb for a brief moment. Those… things have my parents, probably killed them. I want answers. Why were we attacked? What were those things? Where did those weapons mom and dad had come from? Where did those weapons I had come from?” The last question struck hard. Leon sighed, knowing there would be no way to weasel out of this one.
“Fine.” He said hesitantly. “You know the stories of King Arthur, I presume?” Rattigan nodded his head, not really sure of how this applied to what was going on. Leon continued, “Good. You know rumors surrounding Merlin, then? Well, there is much controversy about Merlin, but fact is, the truth about him is much deeper than popular opinion dictates. You see, magic isn’t real, nor will it ever be. Merlin, therefore, was not a magician. Actually, he was a studious scholar who had the good fortune to uncover the mysteries of an unexplored dimension called the “Middle Ground”.” The phrase seemed to strike a cord with Rattigan, and his interest in Leon’s narrative perceptibly intensified. “This dimension is the true “great equalizer”. Everything means nothing there, and nothing is anymore significant than anything else. In this place, you can store anything without having to carry it, and it will be accessible to you at any given time. The key is to understand how it works. Merlin shared his knowledge only with a select group of confidents, who in turn passed it on to their offspring, and so on, until this understanding was imbued into the fabric of their very souls. Rattigan… you are the descendant of one of Merlin’s colleagues. However, this tapping of this ethereal universe came at a price, as it gave access from there to this world as well. Through this interface, some sort of residue passed into this realm, evolving into the monstrosities you see today. They reproduced, and now, their numbers have increased to the point where they could potentially organize a mass takeover of the country. From there, they could do infinitely more damage. The weapons that you and your parents wield are the result of interaction with the “Middle Ground”.” For a moment, Rattigan was unresponsive. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing. After calming himself down, he spoke.
“Oh, that was a good one, Leon. You almost had me there…” He looked up into Leonard’s face. He wasn’t laughing.
“But you can’t be serious!” Rattigan exclaimed.
“I’m dead serious.” Leon replied. “Listen Rattigan, people like us are the only ones capable of facing these things. Your parents are gone, and Earthly weapons would be ineffectual. We alone are capable of doing anything about this.”
“…Teach me to fight.” Was all Rattigan said.

It was three years from then, and Rattigan's training was coming along quite nicely. He could now call upon his weapons with ease, deciding to name them Axis and Medius. He had engaged in multiple practice battles with Leon, but that would never be able to prepare him for the real thing. Though he had a long way to go, Rattigan wanted to take it to the next level. He wanted to fight those... things.
Wait a minute. Rattigan thought. It's kind of annoying not having anything to refer to them as. I think I will name them. He thought for a minute before coming up with a alias that seemed to suit them.
Nothings. I will call them "nothings". He decided. It appeared to fit their description, due to their origin and nature. It also had a certain ring to it, as if there was someone in his head telling him that that was right. He explored the halls in search of Leon. When he found him, he boldy proclaimed his suggestion.
"I want to fight the nothings." He said confidently.
"The what?" Came the reply.
"Oh," He said, forgetting that he hadn't told Leon his new name for the creatures. "those things that got my parents." Leon spit out the herbal tea that was in his mouth.
"What!?" He shouted, scalded by the hot beverage. "You want to fight them? Now!?"
"Yes." Rattigan responded. "And why not?" Leon made a move as if to reply, then stopped and rubbed his chin with his finger. Then, not being able to come up with a good reason, he surrendered.
"Very well." He said tentatively. "You may try to take on a few, but if there are too many, you run. Got it?"
"Okay! Thanks, Leon!" Rattigan ran for the door, but was stopped by Leon.
"And be back in an hour. You wouldn't want to miss your lesson." He said. Rattigan sighed.
"Fine." He said before rushing out to challenge the world.

Yes, because when your character has Speed, Strength, Skill, Intelligence, and Endurance, he's totally not godmodded.
Appearance leaves a lot to be desired. You barely elaborate on it. We don't even know what color his hair is!
What the hell is with you and making the backstory into a script?

What do you mean by a script?

And I don't mean for him to have, say, inhuman strength or speed or anything. Just... exceptional for his age.

Personally I like the theatrical approach. It provides me with a great imaginative look at it. But what color is the guy's hair? And I guess it's not broken down into detail's on the guy's appearance. I dunno.

8/10?

Can't you just make a paragraph out of that character sheet?

All the cool people are doing it.

Oh, sure, fine. I can do that. Thanks.

No, no, no. Now you're doing it wrong. You're taking it from a narrative view. Personally, I think the entire script thing is generally cliche, but this is your choice. Anyway, take it from a writer's view. use words like "he, was, had, would," in place of "his, he's, has, is,".

What do you mean by script?

To me, a script is this.

John: What's that?
Lori: I have no idea.
John: What do we do now?
Lori: I guess we have to take it down.

So, really, I have no idea what you're talking about. Explain please.

You're using the present tense.

From your background, you look like you're narrating or telling a story, not writing it.

Oh, thanks.

Ded isn't a word.