I suggested a mock-fight, then I said yes when she said she wanted it with me. Also we need a judge.

Since everyone is doing this, let me indulge - Would your character fit in on Remnant? You know the rules: You ask me to judge you, I judge with completely arbitrary bias-ness and everyone gets salty at me for the bias of my bias

Edit: Remnant is the fictional world created by Monty Oum for the Internet Series RWBY by Rooster Teeth.

Ash was no push over when it came to terms of strength, but still, it was helpful that Jak was sober enough to at least move his legs while she supported his weight. With his cuffed arm draped over her shoulders, the chain clinking delicately with each step they took in unison, and her arm wrapped around his slumped torso they managed pretty fairly as the trio trudged up the beach and a few blocks with Desman navigating. The Storm Demon wasn't terrible with stamina either, just ask Jak, but she was ultimately lazy. So when the shiny red robut was trying to direct them to a place further away than a few blocks, she groaned mentally and prepared her complaint.

"That's way too far." She said, pausing in the middle of the street. She was still wearing almost nothing, the chains of her bottom straining to keep her mildly decent and the rip in her top giving both males plenty of cleavage to ogle at. Even the drunk long-eared man had noticed and continued to notice. Out of pure shyness or respect, he tried not to stare, but ultimately failed most of the time due to his position. He couldn't shake what he and the demonic looking female had done in the shower/changing stalls on the beach either, and deep inside felt he had been plenty of permission to stare at the half-naked woman. 

"T-Too far?" Desman stuttered. They were Primes! But unless he felt like dragging Jak away - kicking and screaming probably because he'd be taking the man's toy away - he was going to have to re-research his data for another hotel. Luckily for them, there was a place just up the road that he remembered. "Fine, we can try a place closer by. Beach-Front Inn. According to memory, it should be over here." He said, pointing in the direction before looking at Ash, his antenna bobbing around comically and giving Jak some other jiggly thing to stare at for a moment.

Ash was displeased by the idea of walking any further than she had to, but she had to walk somewhere didn't she? Beach front property was promising. "Fine, but I want a balcony and room service." She said, not letting Desman negotiate as she began down the road. The mobile midget scoffed at her demands if only because he already planned to get the best room they could - as it was the only way to treat his friends - and rolled after them.

As a hotel manager, Louis had to endure a number of strange things come through his door. He's come to terms that it would be the case, always. Doing so has made his secondary life so much easier for the 15 years of doing this. Primes were usually the prime culprits of the levels of strange, but in general, he's had a good run with them. Most were polite and just needed a place to stay the night while lounging the beaches during the day. While the worse of them stood out the most, they still didn't cause too much trouble all things considering.

He looked out at his lobby. The floor was a polished white, mimicking the Nexus's feeling of infinite space if only in the small spaces between the dark rugs. Reds, golds, and browns make up the intricate patterns. Dotting the lobby were full sized sofas, multiple soft leathered ones next to dark stained side tables and soft illuminating lamps set just perfectly in each one's center. Exotic plants in even more exotic pots accent each corner or nook, and in the center of it all was a dust white fountain, clear water flows through the three tiered fountain that looked suspiciously like an over sized bird-bath, copper and silver pieces littered the bottom of each tier despite the 'Not A Wishing Fountain' sign that dangles from the velvet ropes boxing it in. Mild tropic-theme music floated through the air, gently creating a pleasant but relaxed environment that pleased the manager.

That was when our 'heroes' walked in. 

Immediately Louis knew they were Primes because of how unique the whole situation was. A short robot with a glorious red paint job and a trail of sand left in his wake through the otherwise pristine lobby. A dark-skinned man who looked like he was ready to pass out at any moment and could easily take the girl who was helping him move down with him, the yellow-green hair and goggles were easy to recognize The Dynamite Kid from the recent Dante's Abyss. Finally, an unusual looking woman with bruised colored skin, horns, an imp-like tail, and finally not much clothing at all. Then again, this was the beach, Jak was just in some trunks himself.

Desman approached the unnecessarily large front counter, moving through the equally excessively massive but beautifully decorated lobby. He moved right up to the counter, which being higher than him forced the robot to take a few 'steps' back and lift his hand with a single finger extended. "One room for three guests, please." The rather normal human being behind the counter in his pressed suit blinked and was about to ask the appropriate questions when Des pulls a 'phat' stack of cash from behind his back and slaps it on the counter. "You're best!" He assured Louis, then turned around and gave his friends a thumbs up as if he'd just won his first haggle battle.

Ash didn't seem impressed, but Jak gave Des a thumbs up with the arm that has been dangling from its socket up until this point. 

When Des turned back, the man behind the counter cleared his throat like he hadn't just watched the Prime do so. "Very well Sir. We have a variety of packages. Our 'best' room for purchase, however, is the penthouse suite."

"I'll take it!" Desman tried to sound dignified but came off a little eager. 

"Very well, sir. Just some paperwork to fill out." Louis said, and then got to that.

But waiting quickly got boring for the drunk and the girl who needed more than just quiet ambient music to feel relaxed. Luckily Jak was on the same page and pointed to the fountain. The demon helped him over and let him play with the water but stopped him from drinking it by swatting his hand. Jak frowned at her, so she summoned one of the same silver pieces for him to toss in the fountain. "If you can get it in the top one, your wish will come true." She falsely promised.

Up to the challenge, Jak snorted at her, and then took one of the coins. He gave it a really hard toss without looking, trying to impress the woman that was holding him. They heard it hit a pot on the other side of the room break. Both had separate reactions, Jak's face went slack as he realized what he'd done, and he looked to see the damage. A potted plant had lost half its soil to the expensive looking rug it set next to. Mean while Ash turned to see if the man standing at the counter had noticed. He didn't. Ash had to stifle a giggle at the face Jak was making. 

"Shit..." He mumbled, looking guilty as hell.

"Shh... Just don't say anything." Ash tempted him.

"But-" Jak tried to argue.

"Shh..." She hushed him once more, kissing his cheek. "Don't worry about it. Let's just go sit down." 

Jak felt bad about not being as honest as he could, but he was also too drunk to argue. He let her pull him to one of the couches where they waited. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the broken pot, the plant was still standing so he didn't feel terrible, but he worried. He wasn't so sure why he was worried, but he was.

Ash rolled her eyes when she saw he was so focused on it. She grabbed him by the jaw with her now free hand and pulls him to look at her. "Don't bring attention to it." She said, then pulled his face to her's. He felt the lip ring shift under their kiss, and slowly he forgot about what had him so worried. Ash pulled away long enough to tilt her head towards his shoulder, and like the willing puppet, he'd become he followed, leaning back in for her kiss. It was a wet sloppy kiss, where their tongues collided gently and she could taste the turkey sandwich he'd eaten at the beach. Seconds later she felt his hand run along her thigh. 

She grinned to herself, stopping the kiss but that didn't stop him. Jak kissed her cheek gently while he still felt up her leg. His seductress didn't dare stop him, instead, she leaned back up and kissed him, baiting him before leaning her head down but offering her mouth to him once more. Jak followed the lead and this time whens he opened her mouth it was to catch the bottom of his lip. It wasn't painful, but Jak tried to pull away all the same. She sucked on his lip but allowed it to pull free. The blushing man was confused, but she had his attention. "Don't like that?" She smirked.

Jak blushed harder though, keeping his voice as low as she had. "I kinda do.." He admitted.

Ash giggled and offered her mouth to him again. Face still on fire, Jak started to lean down again curious now to what she'd do next. Only to be stopped by Desman clearing his throat. Both of them looked up. "I'd say you two should get a room, but I just paid for one." He said, lifting the key card.

Greetings, Omniverse. I'd like to play a game. This is a simple game, where you create a hero or villain. To start, pick three fictional gadgets or items that aren't OP. Next, pick one character from a fictional universe that is either weaker than most characters or is a deuteragonist. The gadgets are your weapons, and the character is your sidekick. Describe how you fight (or cause) crime with these. My items were:
1. Star Trek Phaser
2. Generic Steampunk Hydraulic-Powered Boots
3. Every Spy Thing Ever Wall Climbing Gloves

For my sidekick, I chose:
Ratchet and Clank: Clank

Everything I have, sans the Phaser, is designed for mobility. The hydraulic-powered boots let me change my trajectory mid-air, and the wall climbing gloves allow me to more accurately maneuver in smaller areas. Clank is also very useful for mobility. I mean, he lets you slow your descent, jump higher, and even fly (for a short time)! Clank is also useful for non-mobility reasons; he can shoot a laser able to cut through walls, his hands are basically guns, and if he gets off of your back, he can even fight by himself! As well as this, Clank can help in battle by giving advice with his near-encyclopedic knowledge. The phaser would be my primary weapon, allowing me to shoot an enemy with a blast that can stun (avoiding guilt for small criminals) or even kill (for incredibly dangerous criminals, or aliens). I would operate by moving as much and as fast as possible, soaring around a battlefield with Clank's Heli-Pack and Swingshot, supplementing it with the hydraulic-powered boots and climbing gloves. When possible I would use stealth, though. I would shoot enemies with the phaser with pinpoint accuracy, skirting around them so they can't attack me. 

Hopefully you all didn't think this was too stupid. Please make your own with this system. (Or don't, and make me HATE YOU!)

The island was wrapped in eerie silence that even unnerved the terminator himself as the dead undead pirates laid bloody on the ground and Khonsu's knight was lying hurt on the ground, as Marcus felt his pulse. He was alive, just not responding as the man gritted his teeth. The cyborg picked his ally up off the ground easily due to his enhanced strength. The man fought well and that was more than enough to hold off their corrupted ally and several undead pirates.

He’d have to meet him after Blair and him got the Avenger patched up.

Marcus took care to hold Moon Knight so he didn’t get damaged along the way. As his boots clumped in the soft grass near the tower, Marcus took his job seriously. As the tower doors slid open, Mr Jarvis followed Marcus into the tower and nodded solemnly.

Marcus slid his card and the med wings door slid open where Blair was waiting in the background. The pilot had also trained in medical work and it could be her side job. She had only hoped Kate and the others had trained her enough to heal Moon Knight’s wounds.

The Terminator took care to lift the Avenger’s body onto the table while Kate prepped the necessary tools to take care of the man.

Blair nodded “Marcus, I’m going to need you to help out here. It might be a messy job so prepare for it.”

Marcus was quiet and slipped on a pair of rubber gloves as the pilot and medical woman had an IV set and a proper heartbeat reader.

The actual procedure took at least 2 to 3 hours but after it was done, Moon Knight laid there almost as good as new.

Blair wiped her forehead and threw away the bloody gloves. “I can only hope we did good, Marcus.”

Marcus nodded “We did good, Blair.”

“Let’s stay with the patient a little longer until he recovers a bit then you and him can talk some.”

Luci was the first to get the news.

***

Shadowkill, President of the Westside Deathblades and the big brother of Princess Hellstab, was the second.

It was he who had demanded that Luci issue a 100 OM bounty on any Imperial Prime, in exchange for the Deathblades remaining with the Westside.

And it was he who sent the glowing red graffiti message that magically appeared on walls all over Coruscant.

RIP, Her Royal Highness, Princess Hellstab

***

At the Hufflepunk Hideout, a debate is taking place.

Punk rock Hogwarts alumni scream and curse at each other, wands are drawn, multicolored sparks pop menacingly in the air.

Weasel, the brash young President of the Westside Hufflepunks, emits a loud bang from the tip of her wand.

The rabble simmer as Weasel glares around the room, her red mohawk shaking.

“This is not a problem,” she says slowly, in her raspy voice. The Hufflepunks explode with complaints, and Weasel lets off another bang.

“THIS IS NOT A PROBLEM!” she screams, her eyes snaking around the room.

“A hundred OM bounty on any Imperial Prime?” a brave little Hufflepunk with green hair pipes up. “We’ll have Stormtroopers on every corner. You don’t think that’s gonna affect business?”

The gangs starts to murmur. Weasel shakes her head, her face piercings clinking.

“No, it’s not,” she explains patiently in anachronistically American accent. “Because we have a business model. And that business model no longer includes selling drugs on street corners.”

***

At the Westside Knife Ear Warriors treehouse in Central Park, the elf gang is somehow even louder.

Listening patiently to their concerns is Luci’s First Lieutenant, a beautiful blonde elf girl named Sunshine.

Listening less patiently and actually starting to growl is Luci’s Second Lieutenant, a deadly night elf name Bloodstain.

“We’re supposed to be killing orcs,” yells a young elf angrily. “How are we supposed to do that with the Empire breathing down our necks?”

Sunshine nods understandingly. When she speaks, it is quietly, and the rowdy gangsters hush to listen more closely. “As we have always done, carefully and intelligently, and with allies like the Deathblades.”

***

Kolgoth the Mighty, President of the Mighty Westside Klingons and dedicated father, is teaching a tai-chi class in his dojo. In front of him, following his slow calculated movements, are the Mighty Westside Klingons.

It is Kilgrot the Mighty, Kolgoth’s moody teenage son, who breaks the news to his father.

The Mighty Westside Klingons observe a moment of silence.

Kolgoth cancels all tai-chi classes and replaces them with weapons training.

***

Chirpa the Ewok cries softly in his garage.

***

The boat beneath their feet, sailing them over waves and helping them traverse the ocean had something called “autopilot” which meant no one had to drink and drive, no one had to worry about steering them into an invisible island in the umbra pitch of night, and no one (Gildarts) had to worry when they didn’t know how to drive a boat.

Dust rode beside him, his sable hair glowing in the moonlight as the salty spray of waves overcame the boat in small patches of wave cresting the boat’s side. It was hard to believe that he and the kid had made it this far, pleasant to think that they’d both survived this year’s games, and Gildarts was hopeful that he would be able to bond with Dust a little more before training him.

After what had happened with the cotton candy vendor, Gildarts was feeling a little suspicious about people and their intentions. After what happened with Dust when he’d kissed a kid like Molly, Gildarts wasn’t sure what to think. The layers just kept building, drowning his sorrows, being an attentive master, determining the worthy. The chaotic world’s order would probably get even more mixed up once he had his booze.

The man with a new mind contemplated only the surface of his doubts and was already feeling dismayed. He’d left Molly in capable hooves, apparently secondaries had the means to teleport… Or something of the like, with a recall station. This new world, fathoming it all with his newfound cognition, was rough on the mage who had always sided with justice. Now justice was undefined, or always upgrading like the technologies he’d encountered. Heck, boats weren’t even waterproof, who’d thought of that?!

He’d gotten sidetracked from his point, just what exactly was justice now that he saw the world from an entirely new and undefined angle? Justice was what he could only guess it meant. And that meant figuring out how to define people and things and their actions was going to take a lot of effort.

Enough of that solemn sorrow, tonight was his last night of faltered and distracted cognition hopefully for the rest of his life and his first night to celebrate vivid, coherent thought. They were fluid, enough to drive a man mad and Gildarts assumed that’s why he’d met so many corrupted villains along his travels and jobs and missions in Earthland an Omniverse alike. Everyone had their own definition of justice, for some it was genocide, others, it was stealing what should rightfully be theirs, and others still, stood up for the weak.

Before this, Gildarts had always feared that he’d return home to his guild, or was just out and about, traveling through a town or doing a job, and one day, he’d self destruct. Everything he’d admired about the innocent life of the middle-class people would be gone, dead at his hand. Then, he’d still lack control, so he’d either blow up the entire planet, or he would encounter his Guildmates, there to take him down. And he’d slay them too, because that was his power. This fear, this nightmare, was that of Gildarts’ worst imagination in the making. The most horrifying thing was that it was a possibility. He’d even described it to the beach goers around the campfire. No one could ever truly know or understand the depth of his sorrow. Tragedy, at its finest.

Now, though, he had control enough to stop it. So now he had to choose his cause. Just what did he fight for and how would he do it? Gildarts was a hero, it wasn’t hard for him to know where he lay on the three hundred and sixty degree alignment spectrum, but to what extent? Was he a hero to a fault or would he compromise morality for the greater good?

There was an analogy once shared with him. One that spoke of two boats, one bomb, and one choice. Gildarts wasn’t a fan of this analogy, he and his charismatic justice believed that both boats could be saved, but the scary part about that was that this was real those boats weren’t guarded by competent mages, they weren’t in his world where stories tended to get a happy ending. There were consequences to every choice here. Thin ice, quaking earth, air that crumbled with only a touch. Explosions, heroes fighting heroes, chaos making more sense than fluid progress and order. Yes, it was one Hell of a world and before Gildarts would even dare to try and figure it out, he was going to get viciously hammered.

It took a while for Alexander to regain consciousness, his ears were still ringing, his limbs felt numb for a moment before he could feel them again. With a jolt the Atlean awoke gasping for air, he tried moving his limbs to make sure he was still in one piece. Arms, legs, hands, fingers, feet and finally toes were still intact somehow which was a relief. However, when he tried moving his head, an overwhelming dizzying sensation rendered him immobile. Alexander sluggishly clutched his helmet waiting for the disorientation and dizzying sensation to subside. His mind tried to reboot after what happened before being thrown into this place. All he could remember was fighting, gunfire, explosions, and then nothing but darkness.

Did he die?  Where was RC, his Titan? Did the IMC kill him and his Titan? And what of his comrades? What of Freya? All these questions and no answers left him frustrated, confused and a myriad of other emotions.  When the sensation passed, he slowly sat up and surveyed his surroundings, or lack of for that matter since wherever he looked there was nothing but white. The surface? White. The sky? White. The horizon? White with the exception of bright lights scattered in multiple directions. Nothing to use to get his bearings, no landmarks, natural or artificial scenery to differentiate the terrain and more importantly, no high ground to get a better vantage point.

“Well, shit...” the Pilot muttered, annoyance evident in his voice.

Nothing except a peculiar-looking fountain, stumbling to his feet the Pilot approached the fountain wracked with curiosity and unanswered questions. The elegant white fountain appeared to have clear, fresh water spouting from the top of its elaborate structure which overflowed to the lower layers until the bottom tier. The tranquillity helped calm Alexander, allowed him to focus on processing his current situation and more importantly focus on what to do next. It was evident that he wasn’t on the Frontier anymore, he began wondering if he was even on the same plane of reality as before.

Alexander ran his armoured, gloved hands through the water to test its temperature, surprisingly it was quite cold and looked inviting to the Pilot. He hesitated for a moment; he hadn’t checked if the atmosphere was safe for him to breathe in. An error which the Pilot swiftly corrected, running analytical scans using his suit’s environmental controls. After a moment of waiting the analysis was complete and with it, confirmation, the air was safe to breathe; he removed the seals on his gloves and helmet respectively putting them to the side. Using his hands he drank the water slowly, the cold refreshing liquid soothed the Atlean’s fierce thirst and healed any injuries he sustained before entering this new domain.

Unbeknownst to Alexander as he drank his fill, a squad of ten Stormtroopers approached the Pilot, weapons at the ready but lowered as if they were expecting a fight to break out. Hearing footsteps behind him, Alexander turned to the source of the sound and paused in his place as he saw what approached him. Alexander stared at the squad for a moment, he felt like his eyes were lying to him wondering why were there Stormtroopers here of all places? More questions that needed answers, at least this one had a source to answer said question. He noticed the sergeant talking on a private communications channel to what he could only guess were his superiors.

“Command, this is Alpha-Two reporting in, we got another Prime in the Nexus. Unconfirmed abilities and nature but looks like some highly mobile elite commando even has jump kits from the look of his armour. Please advise on next course of action, over.” the sergeant reported through his comm-unit. “Acknowledged Alpha-Two, send back images of the Prime and await further instructions. Over.” The sergeant complied and took several pictures of Alexander using a camera built into the Stormtrooper’s helmet and sent the data package back to his superiors.

Luci's original concept came from a 4chan quest thread. I had to change her so much for the Omniverse that I gave her the name Luci (a different character), though her original name was Skribl. Check it out?

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qs...ve/902915/

BTW I can't really find most of my quests, if anyone wanted more, sorry.

Seeing the flames erupt from Asriel’s hands, 13 realised that something had obviously gone wrong, he wasn’t like that flower, he was merely waiting to see where the flow of power was going before attacking and it seemed that the intimidation of having a rifle pointed to your head is seemingly quite good as the stormtoopers had started going away. Hearing Asriel’s words he decided for one more retort before going into full anti emotion mode.

“And I have 10,000 millennia of experience from some of the best marksmen in the galaxy, I was sent to assassinate the being who wouldn’t have destroyed the universe but burn and enslave it until all that remained was endless fighting. I have been sent to fight beings of pure chaos and terror who will stop at nothing until the galaxy falls before them, you? From what I’ve heard you’ve just tried to talk people out of it and at best you wouldn’t be able to compete with a sanctioned psyker in combat.”

Asriel starting hurling fireballs towards 13 but he was too far away for most of them to hit, a few did but having no emotions also means having no pain so not much happened because of it. Shooting his rifle, the bullet grazed Azriel’s leg. A few more fireballs came at 13, one hit his head but luckily didn’t shatter his optics, he sent of two more bullets, one of which barely missed and the other hitting one of Azriel’s arms but 13 couldn’t see the result of it. 13 started moving forwards.

Getting out his revolver, he immediately starting shooting the fireballs out of the sky, this activated the bullets fire mechanism though and they were slag before they hit the ground. Reloading, 13 was hit by a few more fireballs which slowed down his progress but he no bullets were wasted. Firing at Asriel, 13 saw a few bullets spin past his fur, setting it on fire. Luckily Asriel’s fur wasn’t exceedingly flammable so it went out quickly with the only real thing happening to him being shock, hopefully the pain went deeper than just emotional.

Quote:357 words according to word