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""Death Planet lvl and MFTL +" and the fact of putting only 4 powers on his page is a huge lowball.
Death should be immeasurable because of living in a place where time has no meaning, not being affected by the fact that Time is locked up during the events of Thief of Time.
"The journey took an instant that would have taken mere light three hundred million years, but Death travels inside that space where Time has no meaning. Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels it finds the darkness has always got there first and is waiting for it." (Reaper Man)
It is also Univers + because of being easily able to kill the Spirit of Rock, which is comparable to the Big Bang and to create the universe. The end of time + the creation of a new universe did not even affect it.
AP
"BRING THEM BACK.
As Susan turned, a toe-bone hopped across the mud and scuttled into place somewhere under Death's robe. He strode forward, snatched the scythe from Susan and, in one movement, whirled it over his head and brought it down on the stone. The blade shattered. He reached down and picked up a fragment. It glittered in his fingers like a tiny star of blue ice.
IT WAS NOT A REQUEST.
When the music spoke, the falling snow danced.
You can't kill me.
Death reached into his robe, and brought out the guitar. Bits of it had broken off, but this didn't matter; the shape flickered in the air. The strings glowed. Death took a stance that Crash would have died to achieve, and raised one hand. In his fingers the sliver glinted. If light could have made a noise, it would have flashed ting. He wanted to be the greatest musician in the world. There has to be a law. Destiny runs its course. For once, Death appeared not to smile. He brought his hand down on the strings. There was no sound. There was, instead, a cessation of sound, the end of a noise which Susan realized she'd been hearing all along. All the time. All her life. A kind of sound you never notice until it stops . . . The strings were still. There are millions of chords. There are millions of numbers. And everyone forgets the one that is a zero. But without the zero, numbers are just arithmetic. Without the empty chord, music is just noise. Death played the empty chord. The beat slowed. And began to weaken. The universe spun on, every atom of it. But soon the whirling would end and the dancers would look around and wonder what to do next
.It's not time for THAT! Play something else!
I CANNOT. Death nodded towards Buddy. BUT HE CAN.
He threw the guitar towards Buddy. It passed right through him. Susan ran and snatched it up, holding it out.
'You've got to take it! You've got to play! You've got to start the music again!' She strummed frantically at the strings.
Buddy winced. 'Please!' she shouted. 'Don't fade away!' The music screamed in her head. Buddy managed to grasp the guitar, but stood looking at it as if he'd never seen it before. 'What'll happen if he doesn't play it?' said Glod. 'You'll all die in the wreckage!'
AND THEN, said Death, THE MUSIC WILL DIE. AND THE DANCE WILL END. THE WHOLE DANCE. The ghostly dwarf gave a cough. 'We're getting paid for this number, right?' he said. YOU'LL GET THE UNIVERSE. 'And free beer?' Buddy held the guitar to him. His eyes met Susan's. He raised his hand, and played. The single chord rang out across the gorge, and echoed back with strange harmonics. THANK YOU, said Death. He stepped forward and took the guitar. He moved suddenly, and smashed the thing against a rock. The strings parted, and something accelerated away, towards the snow and the stars. Death looked at the wreckage with some satisfaction. NOW THAT'S MUSIC WITH ROCKS IN." (Soul Music)
Durability
"Astfgl peered around through the swirling gas clouds. At least he was in the right place. The whole point about the end of the universe was that you couldn't go past it accidentally.
The last few embers winked out. Time and space collided silently, and collapsed.
Astfgl coughed. It can get so very lonely, when you're twenty million light-years from home.
"Anyone there?" he said.
YES.
The voice was right by his ear. Even demon kings can shiver.
"Apart from you, I mean," he said. "Have you seen anybody?"
YES.
"Who?"
EVERYONE."
Nothingness uncoiled its interminable length through the drafty spaces at the end of time.
Death waited. After a while his skeletal fingers began to drum on the handle of his scythe.
Darkness lapped around him. There wasn't even any infinity anymore.
He attempted to whistle a few snatches of unpopular songs between his teeth, but the sound was simply sucked into nothingness.
Forever was over. All the sands had fallen. The great race between entropy and energy had been run, and the favorite had been the winner after all.
Perhaps he ought to sharpen the blade again?
No.
Not much point, really.
Great roils of absolutely nothing stretched into what would have been called the distance, if there had been a space-time reference frame to give words like "distance" any sensible meaning anymore.
There didn't seem to be much todo.
PERHAPS IT'S TIME TO CALL IT A DAY, he thought.
Death turned to go but, just as he did so, he heard the faintest of noises. It was to sound what one photon is to light, so weak and feeble that it would have passed entirely unheard in the din of an operating universe.
It was a tiny piece of matter, popping into existence.
Death stalked over to the point of arrival and watched carefully.
It was a paperclip.
Well, it was a start.
There was another pop, which left a small white shirt-button spinning gently in the vacuum.
Death relaxed a little. Of course, it was going to take some time. There was going to be an interlude before all this got complicated enough to produce gas clouds, galaxies, planets and continents, let alone tiny corkscrew-shaped things wiggling around in slimy pools and wondering whether evolution was worth all the bother of growing fins and legs and things. But it indicated the start of an unstoppable trend.
All he had to do was be patient, and he was good at that. Pretty soon there'd be living creatures, developing like mad, running and laughing in the new sunlight. Growing tired. Growing old.
Death sat back. He could wait." (Faust/Eric)
It should also have a time manipulation, due to stop the time to talk to Mortimer in Morty, to simulate time in his world, and to the fact that Suzan, who has some of his powers, is able to manipulate laws such as time or gravity.
"Well, she was partly immortal, and that was all there was to it. She could see things that were really there, she could put time on and off like an overcoat. Rules that applied to everyone else, like gravity, applied to her only when she let them. And, however hard you tried, this sort of thing did tend to get in the way of relationships. It was hard to deal with people when a tiny part of you saw them as a temporary collection of atoms that would not be around in another few decades. And there she met the tiny part of Death that found it hard to deal with people when it thought of them as real. Not a day went past but she regretted her curious ancestry. And then she'd wonder what it could possibly be like to walk the world unaware at every step of the rocks beneath your feet and the stars overhead, to have a mere five senses, to be almost blind and nearly deaf..." (Thief of Time)
It also changes its size like all Horsemen or shape a scythe "beyond any definition of sharpness", who is capable of cutting sound and even iron atom.
"The crowned Death saw it coming and raised its own weapon but there was very possibly nothing in the world that would stop the worn blade as it snarled through the air, rage and vengeance giving it an edge beyond any definition of sharpness. It passed through the metal without slowing.
No CROWN, said Bill Door, looking directly into the smoke. No CROWN. ONLY THE HARVEST.
The robe folded up around his blade. There was a thin wail, rising beyond the peak of hearing. A black column, like the negative of lightning, flashed up from the ground and disappeared into the clouds. Death waited for a moment, and then gingerly gave the robe a prod with his foot. The crown, bent slightly out of shape, rolled out of it a little way before evaporating.
OH, he said, dismissively. DRAMA." (Reaper Time)
""There's a pretty good grindstone in the corner," she said.
I'VE USED IT.
"And there's an oilstone in the cupboard."
I'VE USED THAT,TOO.
She thought she could hear a sound as the blade moved. A sort of faint whine of tensed air.
"And it's still not sharp enough?"
Bill Door sighed. IT MAY NEVER BE SHARP ENOUGH.
...
"Got anything else left to try?"
Bill shook his head. He'd tried a number of emotions, but this was a new one.
COULD YOU FETCH ME A STEEL?
...
It was an hour later.
Miss Flitworth sorted through her rag-bag.
"What next?" she said.
WHAT HAVE WE HAD SO FAR?
"Let's see…hessian, calico, linen…how about satin? Here's a piece."
Bill Door took the rag and wiped it gently along the blade.
Miss Flitworth reached the bottom of the bag, and pulled out a swatch of white cloth.
YES?
"Silk," she said softly. "Finest white silk. The real stuff. Never worn."
She sat back and stared at it.
After a while he took it tactfully from her fingers.
THANK YOU.
"Well now," she said, waking up. "That's it, isn't it?"
When he turned the blade, it made a noise like whommmm. The fires of the forge were barely alive now, but the blade glowed with razor light.
"Sharpened on silk," said Miss Flitworth. "Who'd believe it?"
AND STILL BLUNT.
Bill Door looked around the dark forge, and then darted into a corner.
"What have you found?"
COBWEB.
There was a long thin whine, like the torturing of ants.
"Any good?"
STILL TOO BLUNT.
...
"How sharp can a blade get, for goodness' sake?"
IT CAN GET SHARPER THAN THIS.
Down in his henhouse, Cyril the cockerel awoke and stared blearily at the treacherous letters chalked on the board. He took a deep breath.
"Floo-a-cockle-dod!"
Bill Door glanced at the rimward horizon and then, speculatively, at the little hill behind the house.
...
The new daylight sloshed onto the world. Discworld light is old, slow and heavy; it roared across the landscape like a cavalry charge. The occasional valley slowed it for a moment and, here and there, a mountain range banked it up until it poured over the top and down the far slope.
It moved across a sea, surged up the beach and accelerated over the plains, driven by the lash of the sun.
On the fabled hidden continent of Xxxx, somewhere near the rim, there is a lost colony of wizards who wear corks around their pointy hats and live on nothing but prawns. There, the light is still wild and fresh as it rolls in from space, and they surf on the boiling interface between night and day.
If one of them had been carried thousands of miles inland on the dawn, he might have seen, as the light thundered over the high plains, a stick figure toiling up a low hill in the path of the morning.
It reached the top a moment before the light arrived, took a breath, and then spun around in a crouch, grinning.
It held a long blade upright between extended arms.
Light struck…split…slid…
Miss Flitworth panted up as the new day streamed past. Bill Door was absolutely still, only the blade moving between his fingers as he angled it against the light.
Finally he seemed satisfied.
He turned around and swished it experimentally through the air.
Miss Flitworth stuck her hands on her hips. "Oh, come on," she said.
'No one can /.........../any/........./on day/
..................sharpen.........thing.............lght'
She paused." (Reaper Time)
"The war was going badly for the weaker side. Their positioning was wrong, their tactics ragged, their strategy hopeless. The Red army advanced across the whole front, dismembering the scurrying remnant of the collapsing Black battalions. There was room for only one anthill on this lawn... Death found War down among the grass blades. He admired attention to detail. War was in full armour, too, but the human heads he normally had tied to his saddle had been replaced by ant heads, feelers and all. DO THEY NOTICE YOU, DO YOU THINK? he said. 'I doubt it,' said War. NEVERTHELESS, IF THEY DID, I'M SURE THEY WOULD APPRECIATE IT. 'Ha! Only decent theatre of war around these days,' said War. 'That's what I like about ants. The buggers don't learn, what?'" (Thief of Time)
Death should also have life and matter manipulation, to have created fish and mountains in his world.
Soul manipulation, because it just separates the soul from the body before it evaporates.
A possible heat and possible biological manipulation, because the punch he put to Morty was considered "cold heat", and the mark left by the shot became a genetic inheritance.
(I do not have the quotes related to that with me, sorry)
The revisions are:
Powers and Abilities: Superhuman Physical Characteristics, Immortality, Death Manipulation, mortals find it hard to perceive him, Time Manipulation, Size Manipulation, Gravity Manipulation, Soul Manipulation, Life Creation, Matter Manipulation, possible Heat and Biological Manipulation
Attack Potency: At least Univers+ (Can easily kill the Spirit of the Rock, which is at the origin of the Big Bang, has one-shot the new Death)
Speed: Immeasurable (Time has no meaning for him, he also live in a world without time) Nigh-Omnipresent on a planetary scale
Durability: At least Univers+ (He is not affected by the destruction of the universe as well as by the creation of a new one)
Sorry for the bad presentation.
Death should be immeasurable because of living in a place where time has no meaning, not being affected by the fact that Time is locked up during the events of Thief of Time.
"The journey took an instant that would have taken mere light three hundred million years, but Death travels inside that space where Time has no meaning. Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels it finds the darkness has always got there first and is waiting for it." (Reaper Man)
It is also Univers + because of being easily able to kill the Spirit of Rock, which is comparable to the Big Bang and to create the universe. The end of time + the creation of a new universe did not even affect it.
AP
"BRING THEM BACK.
As Susan turned, a toe-bone hopped across the mud and scuttled into place somewhere under Death's robe. He strode forward, snatched the scythe from Susan and, in one movement, whirled it over his head and brought it down on the stone. The blade shattered. He reached down and picked up a fragment. It glittered in his fingers like a tiny star of blue ice.
IT WAS NOT A REQUEST.
When the music spoke, the falling snow danced.
You can't kill me.
Death reached into his robe, and brought out the guitar. Bits of it had broken off, but this didn't matter; the shape flickered in the air. The strings glowed. Death took a stance that Crash would have died to achieve, and raised one hand. In his fingers the sliver glinted. If light could have made a noise, it would have flashed ting. He wanted to be the greatest musician in the world. There has to be a law. Destiny runs its course. For once, Death appeared not to smile. He brought his hand down on the strings. There was no sound. There was, instead, a cessation of sound, the end of a noise which Susan realized she'd been hearing all along. All the time. All her life. A kind of sound you never notice until it stops . . . The strings were still. There are millions of chords. There are millions of numbers. And everyone forgets the one that is a zero. But without the zero, numbers are just arithmetic. Without the empty chord, music is just noise. Death played the empty chord. The beat slowed. And began to weaken. The universe spun on, every atom of it. But soon the whirling would end and the dancers would look around and wonder what to do next
.It's not time for THAT! Play something else!
I CANNOT. Death nodded towards Buddy. BUT HE CAN.
He threw the guitar towards Buddy. It passed right through him. Susan ran and snatched it up, holding it out.
'You've got to take it! You've got to play! You've got to start the music again!' She strummed frantically at the strings.
Buddy winced. 'Please!' she shouted. 'Don't fade away!' The music screamed in her head. Buddy managed to grasp the guitar, but stood looking at it as if he'd never seen it before. 'What'll happen if he doesn't play it?' said Glod. 'You'll all die in the wreckage!'
AND THEN, said Death, THE MUSIC WILL DIE. AND THE DANCE WILL END. THE WHOLE DANCE. The ghostly dwarf gave a cough. 'We're getting paid for this number, right?' he said. YOU'LL GET THE UNIVERSE. 'And free beer?' Buddy held the guitar to him. His eyes met Susan's. He raised his hand, and played. The single chord rang out across the gorge, and echoed back with strange harmonics. THANK YOU, said Death. He stepped forward and took the guitar. He moved suddenly, and smashed the thing against a rock. The strings parted, and something accelerated away, towards the snow and the stars. Death looked at the wreckage with some satisfaction. NOW THAT'S MUSIC WITH ROCKS IN." (Soul Music)
Durability
"Astfgl peered around through the swirling gas clouds. At least he was in the right place. The whole point about the end of the universe was that you couldn't go past it accidentally.
The last few embers winked out. Time and space collided silently, and collapsed.
Astfgl coughed. It can get so very lonely, when you're twenty million light-years from home.
"Anyone there?" he said.
YES.
The voice was right by his ear. Even demon kings can shiver.
"Apart from you, I mean," he said. "Have you seen anybody?"
YES.
"Who?"
EVERYONE."
Nothingness uncoiled its interminable length through the drafty spaces at the end of time.
Death waited. After a while his skeletal fingers began to drum on the handle of his scythe.
Darkness lapped around him. There wasn't even any infinity anymore.
He attempted to whistle a few snatches of unpopular songs between his teeth, but the sound was simply sucked into nothingness.
Forever was over. All the sands had fallen. The great race between entropy and energy had been run, and the favorite had been the winner after all.
Perhaps he ought to sharpen the blade again?
No.
Not much point, really.
Great roils of absolutely nothing stretched into what would have been called the distance, if there had been a space-time reference frame to give words like "distance" any sensible meaning anymore.
There didn't seem to be much todo.
PERHAPS IT'S TIME TO CALL IT A DAY, he thought.
Death turned to go but, just as he did so, he heard the faintest of noises. It was to sound what one photon is to light, so weak and feeble that it would have passed entirely unheard in the din of an operating universe.
It was a tiny piece of matter, popping into existence.
Death stalked over to the point of arrival and watched carefully.
It was a paperclip.
Well, it was a start.
There was another pop, which left a small white shirt-button spinning gently in the vacuum.
Death relaxed a little. Of course, it was going to take some time. There was going to be an interlude before all this got complicated enough to produce gas clouds, galaxies, planets and continents, let alone tiny corkscrew-shaped things wiggling around in slimy pools and wondering whether evolution was worth all the bother of growing fins and legs and things. But it indicated the start of an unstoppable trend.
All he had to do was be patient, and he was good at that. Pretty soon there'd be living creatures, developing like mad, running and laughing in the new sunlight. Growing tired. Growing old.
Death sat back. He could wait." (Faust/Eric)
It should also have a time manipulation, due to stop the time to talk to Mortimer in Morty, to simulate time in his world, and to the fact that Suzan, who has some of his powers, is able to manipulate laws such as time or gravity.
"Well, she was partly immortal, and that was all there was to it. She could see things that were really there, she could put time on and off like an overcoat. Rules that applied to everyone else, like gravity, applied to her only when she let them. And, however hard you tried, this sort of thing did tend to get in the way of relationships. It was hard to deal with people when a tiny part of you saw them as a temporary collection of atoms that would not be around in another few decades. And there she met the tiny part of Death that found it hard to deal with people when it thought of them as real. Not a day went past but she regretted her curious ancestry. And then she'd wonder what it could possibly be like to walk the world unaware at every step of the rocks beneath your feet and the stars overhead, to have a mere five senses, to be almost blind and nearly deaf..." (Thief of Time)
It also changes its size like all Horsemen or shape a scythe "beyond any definition of sharpness", who is capable of cutting sound and even iron atom.
"The crowned Death saw it coming and raised its own weapon but there was very possibly nothing in the world that would stop the worn blade as it snarled through the air, rage and vengeance giving it an edge beyond any definition of sharpness. It passed through the metal without slowing.
No CROWN, said Bill Door, looking directly into the smoke. No CROWN. ONLY THE HARVEST.
The robe folded up around his blade. There was a thin wail, rising beyond the peak of hearing. A black column, like the negative of lightning, flashed up from the ground and disappeared into the clouds. Death waited for a moment, and then gingerly gave the robe a prod with his foot. The crown, bent slightly out of shape, rolled out of it a little way before evaporating.
OH, he said, dismissively. DRAMA." (Reaper Time)
""There's a pretty good grindstone in the corner," she said.
I'VE USED IT.
"And there's an oilstone in the cupboard."
I'VE USED THAT,TOO.
She thought she could hear a sound as the blade moved. A sort of faint whine of tensed air.
"And it's still not sharp enough?"
Bill Door sighed. IT MAY NEVER BE SHARP ENOUGH.
...
"Got anything else left to try?"
Bill shook his head. He'd tried a number of emotions, but this was a new one.
COULD YOU FETCH ME A STEEL?
...
It was an hour later.
Miss Flitworth sorted through her rag-bag.
"What next?" she said.
WHAT HAVE WE HAD SO FAR?
"Let's see…hessian, calico, linen…how about satin? Here's a piece."
Bill Door took the rag and wiped it gently along the blade.
Miss Flitworth reached the bottom of the bag, and pulled out a swatch of white cloth.
YES?
"Silk," she said softly. "Finest white silk. The real stuff. Never worn."
She sat back and stared at it.
After a while he took it tactfully from her fingers.
THANK YOU.
"Well now," she said, waking up. "That's it, isn't it?"
When he turned the blade, it made a noise like whommmm. The fires of the forge were barely alive now, but the blade glowed with razor light.
"Sharpened on silk," said Miss Flitworth. "Who'd believe it?"
AND STILL BLUNT.
Bill Door looked around the dark forge, and then darted into a corner.
"What have you found?"
COBWEB.
There was a long thin whine, like the torturing of ants.
"Any good?"
STILL TOO BLUNT.
...
"How sharp can a blade get, for goodness' sake?"
IT CAN GET SHARPER THAN THIS.
Down in his henhouse, Cyril the cockerel awoke and stared blearily at the treacherous letters chalked on the board. He took a deep breath.
"Floo-a-cockle-dod!"
Bill Door glanced at the rimward horizon and then, speculatively, at the little hill behind the house.
...
The new daylight sloshed onto the world. Discworld light is old, slow and heavy; it roared across the landscape like a cavalry charge. The occasional valley slowed it for a moment and, here and there, a mountain range banked it up until it poured over the top and down the far slope.
It moved across a sea, surged up the beach and accelerated over the plains, driven by the lash of the sun.
On the fabled hidden continent of Xxxx, somewhere near the rim, there is a lost colony of wizards who wear corks around their pointy hats and live on nothing but prawns. There, the light is still wild and fresh as it rolls in from space, and they surf on the boiling interface between night and day.
If one of them had been carried thousands of miles inland on the dawn, he might have seen, as the light thundered over the high plains, a stick figure toiling up a low hill in the path of the morning.
It reached the top a moment before the light arrived, took a breath, and then spun around in a crouch, grinning.
It held a long blade upright between extended arms.
Light struck…split…slid…
Miss Flitworth panted up as the new day streamed past. Bill Door was absolutely still, only the blade moving between his fingers as he angled it against the light.
Finally he seemed satisfied.
He turned around and swished it experimentally through the air.
Miss Flitworth stuck her hands on her hips. "Oh, come on," she said.
'No one can /.........../any/........./on day/
..................sharpen.........thing.............lght'
She paused." (Reaper Time)
"The war was going badly for the weaker side. Their positioning was wrong, their tactics ragged, their strategy hopeless. The Red army advanced across the whole front, dismembering the scurrying remnant of the collapsing Black battalions. There was room for only one anthill on this lawn... Death found War down among the grass blades. He admired attention to detail. War was in full armour, too, but the human heads he normally had tied to his saddle had been replaced by ant heads, feelers and all. DO THEY NOTICE YOU, DO YOU THINK? he said. 'I doubt it,' said War. NEVERTHELESS, IF THEY DID, I'M SURE THEY WOULD APPRECIATE IT. 'Ha! Only decent theatre of war around these days,' said War. 'That's what I like about ants. The buggers don't learn, what?'" (Thief of Time)
Death should also have life and matter manipulation, to have created fish and mountains in his world.
Soul manipulation, because it just separates the soul from the body before it evaporates.
A possible heat and possible biological manipulation, because the punch he put to Morty was considered "cold heat", and the mark left by the shot became a genetic inheritance.
(I do not have the quotes related to that with me, sorry)
The revisions are:
Powers and Abilities: Superhuman Physical Characteristics, Immortality, Death Manipulation, mortals find it hard to perceive him, Time Manipulation, Size Manipulation, Gravity Manipulation, Soul Manipulation, Life Creation, Matter Manipulation, possible Heat and Biological Manipulation
Attack Potency: At least Univers+ (Can easily kill the Spirit of the Rock, which is at the origin of the Big Bang, has one-shot the new Death)
Speed: Immeasurable (Time has no meaning for him, he also live in a world without time) Nigh-Omnipresent on a planetary scale
Durability: At least Univers+ (He is not affected by the destruction of the universe as well as by the creation of a new one)
Sorry for the bad presentation.
