Deadpool glanced over his shoulder at the backpack.  "Are we cosplaying the Guardians?  Can't I just be me?  I feel like that'd make for a more lucrative cinematic experience." The mercenary turned and glanced at his companion. "Right, Macbeth?"

"They're over there," Erik muttered, ignoring the masked man's rambling as he focused on the insectoid warrior and his furry companion.

"Green Drax and Rocket Raccoon!" Deadpool gasped dramatically as he placed a hand on Erik's shoulders. "I think this makes you Gamora, buddy... how do you look in a wig?"

Quote:Word Limit: 850
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Space Verse” – This Fight Area exists within a massive floating sphere high over the Dante Ocean. The barrier of the Fight Area is opaque and dotted with glittering stars, giving the visual illusion of being deep in traditional space. Inside the Fight Area are various free-floating chunks of rock, ice, and even a floating space installations in various conditions.

Stipulation: This is a Zero gravity environment. Each prime is provided with either a jetpack or boot boosters, which are indestructible.

The path was rugged and dirty. His light steps kicked up small puffs of pale brown dust that lingered in the motionless air. His bright emerald eyes scraped over a pathetic and desolate landscape of brittle cracked soil; withered and bone dry plants seemed to ooze up from the fissures of the earth, like puss from a blighted and scabby infection. Barren trees reached twisted grey branches towards the sky, desperate to claw the heavens if they so had the chance.

Purgatory was a fitting name. The gods had forsaken and forgotten this cruel place long ago. Not like the blonde man could have even begun to blame them. Leaderless and destructive humans had eaten up everything in sight, scratching and fighting to race towards a nigh on irreversible chaos. They had paid dearly for it too, or at least those too poor and sorry had. As always the rich and most responsible boarded on ships and fled to the stars.

And now some of those people were trying- perhaps in vain- to fix an issue a thousand years long and far beyond being only systemically deep.

To put it bluntly humans had really fucked it all up.

Ezrihel gave a careless snort of disdain. The Sok’ma-tal would attribute all this to him as well if they had the chance or the breath left in their bodies. He was always to blame, always the reason. He was nothing but a failure, a force of destruction and hatred hellbent on forcing things to fit his scheme and vision for the most wicked of pictures. He had succeeded in a perceptibly infinite amount of endeavors and yet while history obliterated every portrait it created, it always painted him and his mistakes.

And here he was, basically in the middle of hell, rescuing some insignificant scientist that studied plants. He’d already had to smash at least two vicious mutated insects that had wanted to make a meal out of him. All because some pretty woman had inadvertently mentioned that some silly organisation and cause she happened to care about needed help.

She was gorgeous though. Her pretty downturned blue eyes always seemed to beckon to him, pleading with him to fall deep into her. To relax... To trust. Her aura promised it would be okay, promised that she would help, that she comprehended him and his reasons. She promised it would all be okay one day, that things- everything- could be corrected, made to be alright. He felt himself softly shudder, his coat rustled quietly.

She always looked at him like she knew, silver-blue eyes filled with some sort of wretched sympathy and understanding as if she had crawled into his skull and had him all figured out. She couldn’t possibly know. She could never ever understand him or the suffering he had endured at the hands of fate and gods and elders and tradition. No one had ever succeeded, regardless of their tactics or sickly soured flattery that begged for his story and his time with the gaping hungry mouths of young predators. Their soulless, empty bodies whispered a secret language he couldn't decipher but somehow understood.

And their cries were:

"Feed me... feed me..."

They begged him. Screaming and whispering. They wanted him to devour those around them, chew them up into a paste and smear them inside their mouths. To get drunk on the privilege of his attention. They raked their claws across his body, desperate to witness his destruction and bathe in his failures. Yet no matter where he turned they were there, on all sides, lying next to each other. Rows and rows of executioners.

Some were shirtless, robeless and throbbing with anticipation, sweat delicately sneaking its way through their dirty matted body hair. All of them were hooded, some like seventeenth century guillotine henchmen, others had crudely made hoods leering like scarecrows- or sullen ripped ski masks soiled with slobber from their clenching jaws. Some had burlap masks sewn together that looked like they were made of human skin.

Each one held a weapon, large mallets- crudely fashioned axes and large clubs, pipes.

But he wasn’t compelled to retreat, oh no. He was forced to move between them, past their swinging weapons: the clubs, the bats, the slicing tools, the shovels, the large and small axes, big boards with nails, staples and razorblades embedded in them. He was made to take the beatings, to fall down and get up again and again and again and again- driven to make. It. Out- at any cost.

Nila Malik was his poison. She would be his fall, his demise. Those enchanting silver-blue eyes bespoke a thousand sobbed begs of him and convinced him that he could still fly if he just reached far enough, if he could just run fast enough, try harder. She just wanted something, like everyone else. She was another hungry mouth, just not consciously. Like Katrina she’d cling to him, another parasite to feast and suckle from his bodice, another young predator to be adopted under the pretense of helplessness and need.

He sucked a deep breath in, the dusty grit of the desert air coated his purple tongue. The disk of the setting sun was swollen and heavy in the sky as it dipped below the horizon. On Irenya the sun’s light was soft and loving, but here, like everything else, the sun’s light was violent and tinted the world in merciless, angry reds. Shadows of standing rocks, scorched trees and defiant cacti stretched sinisterly across the landscape, ally to the inky ebb of unknown nocturnal threats.

Romance would be his demise.

He was too lenient, too kind. Too considerate. Too content to stand by passively while the squirming mass of maggots digested him from the inside out.

“Oh, beautiful miss Malik,” as he spoke the pagan moon finally emerged from behind the far mountain range, drenching the empty sands in alien silver. “You're so perfect when you lie. You can be my crucifix- hold me up to watch me die.”

She was a killer and a keeper, he had promised himself that already. She was picking him flowers from her soul and mending the wings of a wretched fallen angel, handling the splinters of his broken halo. She would come to know him by the scars he bore and the hate that he swore by. He danced in the fires again, burnt and bleeding. He was a whore, holy, loved by many and yet still so lonely. He was barren, fruitful, bored and rarely useful- an insignificant, shiny and unique sinner seeking manic martyrdom.

Couldn’t she see?

Tsunade sat at her desk in Mokugakure, waiting for the sake to kick in. She grimaced, staring at her distorted reflection in the star piece, the yellow crystal shard sat on her desk in a small glass case. Guu had done as she had promised, getting the star piece for Mokugakure though not without cost, both of life lost and of enemies made. It seemed that in the process the Ambrosian princess had managed to draw the ire of Dalaran’s mages. There were reports that she had been detained by Kingdom troops, though Tsunade couldn’t help but question how. Guu didn’t exactly ‘contain’ easily. That left the star piece here in Mokugakure. In her charge. Tsunade took another drink, but found that the bottle was empty.

“Tch… Uchitari! Get in here this instant!” She shouted, one fist banging on the table. There was a frantic cry from the hallway, and her personal assistant scrambled into the room, face a distinct shade of crimson. Tsunade squinted at the young shinobi, which only deepened the red coloring.

“Um… Y-Yes Lady Tsunade? Did you need something?” Tochi Uchitari asked, eyes drifting to the sake bottle that Tsunade held in one hand.

“Nevermind that now. What are you hiding?” Tsunade practically shouted, one finger pointed accusingly, “Is that Hosigaki boy here again?” Uchitari mouth dropped open as she stammered out some attempted deflection. Tsunade stood up, crossing towards the door, Uchitari moving to intercept her path.

“No! you don’t need to… ah, that is… did you need another…” the shinobi stammered, but Tsunade ignored her, slamming the door wide open with a snap. Tochi watched with horror as the Morikage’s gaze locked onto Hayate Hosigaki, doing his best to hide in the room’s curtains

“Hayate!” Tsunade shouted, forehead veins throbbing. The youngster poked his head out of the drapes with a guilty grin.

“Yes, Lady Morikage?” he asked, scratching the back of his head. An empty sake bottle smacked into his forehead with blinding speed, Tochi gasped in dismay as the stunned Shinobi sank to the ground.

“Stop harassing my assistants when they’re on duty!” Tsunade shouted, brow furrowed and eyes raging, “That’s the last time I’m warning you!”

“Right! Of course, Lady Tsunade!” Hayate spoke hurriedly. The shinobi scrambled back to his feet, bowed quickly, then turned tail and fled. Tsunade whirled back to face Tochi, who jumped.

“I need you to tell me why this plan is stupid.” Tsunade said, voice still a little irritated. Tochi composed herself as Tsunade strode back to her desk. The Morikage sat with her arms propped on the desk, brooding as she stared at the artefact.

“Your plan, ma’am?” the shinobi asked, head tilted slightly to one side. Tochi had a sinking feeling this was going to be one of those conversations where Tsunade wasn’t actually going to ask for her advice.

“People will know that we have this star piece sooner or later.” Tsunade spoke, the full moon spilling into the window behind her, “We have too many curious eyes here to keep it a secret. Eventually the Kingdom and the Empire will send representatives to ‘request’ it, and even if we stall them this hunk of rock makes us a target for rogue primes.” Tochi nodded.

“We’ve actually had reports that someone broke into Dalaran not too long ago, and may have stolen theirs.” The assistant spoke, flipping through papers on her clipboard. Tsunade frowned. The star piece was an artefact of power, a piece in a much larger game than any of them knew, save perhaps select members of the Kingdom and the Empire. So long as it remained in her possession, Mokugakure was a part of that game. Whether it wanted to be or not. Tsunade stared at the innocuous piece of crystal, its facets catching and reflecting the moons rays in a mesmerizing pattern.

In the end it was going to be trouble.

Hi! I recently realized that, for what I'm planning for Wario, I never actually needed Debuff. I was wondering if I could get a full refund of that? (I understand if I need the half-refund but I thought I'd ask)

There were several things that Jack Spicer personally liked. One of these was the smell of fresh silicon and test tubes when he was using them to build Jackbots. Another was his collection of artifacts from around the world. Still another was not awakening in a strange place, and then remembering something that was inconvenient. Namely the fact that he had been kidnapped from his home by what appeared to be a featureless white biped that he had no information on whatsoever. Second to that, Jack did not yet possess any access to the internet or anything similar at his disposal yet in this place. Another issue was that he had lost most, well all of his talent for robotics upon arrival here. Such was a skill that he was going to retrain himself to be able to perform in the Omniverse because of how useful the Jackbots could be when he put his mind to building good ones. Equipment was something Jack had very little of at present which honestly annoyed the young Spicer. Given he had slept in the nude because he had no clothing yet, Jack decided it was time to rectify that oversight. Preparing an outfit was not exactly his strong suit, but Jack held out the orb of Omnilium. Focusing on a black pair of cargo pants, black boots, and a black tank top, Jack willed them, and underwear into existence on his body. Once he was properly clothed, Jack thought about how he was going to handle his problems. Step one would be to establish some sort of security system in the base. It was going to need it anyway, because Jack didn't want to have problems. Jack Spicer finished lacing up the shoes that he was wearing. 

After being prepared for the day, Jack went into the yet to be furnished kitchen, well one of the kitchens anyway. Jack had a frown on his face as he looked at the unfurnished areas of the base. Acquiring the materials by hand to make the furnishings of the place was not going to be easy. Perhaps he could take a shopping trip to the place where the white armored individuals were. There was bound to be a Walmart, or something there, that he could shop at for the numerous supplies he needed to furnish the base. Maybe he would even dig through the refuse of a junkyard for useful supplies if he had no other choice. Really though he was going to see his project of this place, fixed to the best of his ability. It was not going to be an easy task, and meant a lot of work for him in the future. Especially since he didn't have any Jackbots at present.

Hey all,

I've been thinking about getting back into writing proper poetry lately, so I'm digging through all my old works and there are some I thought it would be cool to share!  Everything in here was written from 2011 to 2013, and I'll probably post some new stuff too!

Thread rated M for sexual themes and naughty language.   All feedback is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy.  :awesome:

Table of Contents

Poetry:

The Metallurgist's Child: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139163
Monsters: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139164
Prison-Padded: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139165
Apocalypse (Please): https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139166
Swiss-Made Woman: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139167
Squeeze the Bullet Down: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139168
Sexual Frankenstein: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139169
Awake: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139170
Betrayal: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139171

Prose:

Exit Wound: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139172
Fading: https://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php...#pid139173

I would like to try some friendships here if it possible.

The only thing that would help him relax would be not to be a prime anymore to become a full fledge demon. With his powers and stuff back that seemed like the best choice to find some way of breaking this and retaining what was stolen to break Omni's hold on him and reclaim his lost powers once again. Before coming here the demon had made a leagcy for himself now it seems that legacy by being here was all gone and it really pissing him off. 

To think someone wanted him to come here after years within Hell, Tyson felt someone was pulling his strings this wasn't getting him anywhere though. Saying something and not doing anything won't bring him the results that he wants their will be a time for talk but it was time for some action the demon has had enough. 

Too long people we're pushing him around knowing full well that he's better then this, Tyson will have to start hunting again. He doesn't want to harm any people it would only lead to problems being smart about this journey needed some forethought. Now the demon wasn't under the evil  satanic influence which was good so the killing and evil part of him was subsided for now. Wondering when the time will come when the demon will finally retain his lost powers again but let's say if the demon was back at square one again perhaps this was a golden opportunity. Now some of his demonic powers we're working again which was a start but relearning his magics may acqure some help from a strong user of the craft. Either a witch or a warlock could help him n a desperate situation like this but would any of them accept him as an appentrice or even a student, he'll need to find one. He wanted one of his deadliest powers back the soul destroyer....Now if someone could teach him again this power could return back to him with enough knowledge about this the soul and it's limits. He was going off searching for a witch hoping to hear about something in the next town so finally the demon had a goal to find some way of restoring his magical power. It was a hard job but the demon thought this could be done.

He started his journey into town hoping to find some information about something about a old witch or some spellcaster. Tyson hears something about a spellcaster from two people talking about husbands and wives but they didn't know anything. Thinking this was a dead end the demon goes over to the local bar and purchases a drink. Thinking this was a peaceful bar, Three men approach him wanting to start some trouble this wasn't the right time to that.

"What's the problem?" Tyson questioned.

"Hey man! What's you doing here?" Thug replied with another question.

"I'm busy...SCRAM" Tyson replied.

"We're going to teach you a lesson in manners. Let's take this outside muthafucka we don't want to get messy in here" Thug #2 replied.

"If we do take this outside??? Then, I will be a foul mood because with all my willpower you guys want me to have a bad day. So if do fight outside what it's going to be a bloodbath top off with a massacre. How dare you people think you can boss people around like that. But this might be the chance for testing out a new game: Spinal cord baseball but all I need is a knife but this game is going to be bloody. OH hell yes their will be blood. Let's take this outside" Tyson said.

The four primes appeared on opposite sides of a battlefield already stained red with gore.

"How lovely," Ash cooed as she stooped down and traced a fingertip along the jawline of a dead man. "Dedication." She added as she bopped the dead boy on his helmet and glanced into the city toward the pair of primes who awaited them.

A small woman with a scowl stood next to the tallest hunk of meat Ash had seen this side of the Danteverse.

"Well hello," she spoke softly as she sized up Gildarts. "This will be fun."

Quote:Word Limit: 850
Posts: 2
Time Limit: 48 hours
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Time limit starts at 8 AM CDT on July 13, 2018

“Battle of Darkshire” – The town that no one wants to live but everyone wants to apparently blow the fuck to pieces (or at least back when that was the cool thing). This recreation of the Battle of Darkshire is a Fight Area that encompass the Main Gate and the surrounding square and structures. It is here that a handful of defending primes and the forces of Darkshire squared off to determine the fate of the rural city. Beyond the borders of the Fight Area, you can spot clashes in adjacent streets and buildings. Both teams are provided with optional equipment armories on their side of the Fight Area related to the side they represent.

Stipulation: Extra weapons and equipment provided.

Darkshire Defenders -- Cerise/Gildarts
Illidari Assaulters -- Ash/Jak Mar

The black and purple fox silently watched the being known as Omni tell her plainly that she was interesting, sequentially a list of many courses of actions queued up in the celestial kitsunes mind.

Thoughts ranged from, "Not sure how interesting it is to be dropped into white nothingness" to "which enemy decided to lock me away in an endless white room" and tiring herself with "Why can't I feel the other realms, where did my cosmic connection go, how is this possible."

For being the first of her kind, she has never seen any illusion or lies she couldn't not simple see-through or figure out eventually. Everything leads a breadcrumb trail for a fox to munch up, but this Omni being simply just removed her from the cosmic string no crumbs, this infuriates her.

After the mental turmoil settled down somewhat, it didn't take long for it to be renewed with the missing presence of her starball. Several quick panic tailspins later, she noticed an odd glowing cherry in the middle of this white prison. She knew this wasn't her soul tree and wasn't particularly impressed at being mocked by her imprisonment.

The pangs of mortal hunger, a feeling she surpassed when she ascended mortality bombarded her body. With the craving for sustenance the cherry tree transformed into a pond, but much to her ongoing public roasting there was no living creature to consume.

The Kitsune just started into the pond her gaze static over her reflect which immediately told her she had reverted into her feral form. Another disconnection from herself sprouted as she was unable to find the muscle that allows her to trigger her shape-shifting. As to why it did not work was unknown to her and was just another question she added to her list of demanded answers.

The waters reflecting properties slowly soothed the fox down, which made the thought dawn on her that she should investigate that strange orb the white one handed her. The fox somberly walked over to the sphere and retrieved it with her tails and walked back to the pond to deposit it. "Maybe this bloody thing will give me fish....." She annoyingly chittered away.

Her reflection warped by the presence of the suddenly very alluring orb of Omnilium. She wasn't stupid enough to eat a random never before seen entity, a lesson kitsune learn when young or soon die.

She focused on the orb and over several minutes fish appeared within the pond, and then her starballl shortly after, their authenticity flawless, but the disconnection grew within her. Something was different fundamentally, what she just made for all intense-purposes is real, not a mere illusion that she would typically make. She found herself unable to create any illusion, but this Omnilium she could mold like clay to make anything. Not vastly different then celestial crafting, but making her dependent on this dumb rainbow colored orb.

However her hungry grew more ravenous, and eventually, those fish became devoured fish with an upset starving dire fox with many tails into a wet, sleepy dire fox sleeping tails curled up into a ball around her protecting her starball. Her groggy thoughts and typical fox behavior was rest now figure out this bullshit later.