The cool air of the air conditioning quickly relieved Chip of the desert heat as she climbed into the car. The vehicle was one Carmelita had summoned for plainsclothes cases, and consequently the grey paintwork and hidden police lights meant it would also serve perfectly well as Chip’s civilian transport. The bulletproof glass and the reinforced bodywork didn’t hurt in the Endless Dunes.

She made her way out of the all too empty garage, driving up the ramp into the sunlight. She navigated through the base, adjusting to the hover vehicle’s quirks, and waved at Al3x as his holographic projector came out to see her off.

Soon she had driven along the main track through the field of traps and out onto the main route to the Town With No Name. The low hum of the engine and the dust cloud kicking up behind her were her only companions as she cruised through the shimmering air. Idly keeping one eye out for trouble, she saw a vulture circling off to one side. It dived down behind a rise, and soon she’d left it behind.

Another half hour went by. A collection of listing wooden beams marked the location of a former truck stop, and a more prominent road that led to town. A couple of men on horseback, possibly couriers judging by the monogramed sacks and the steady pace they were setting, passed her by in the opposite direction, giving her a short nod of thanks as she slowed to avoid spooking the black mares they rode.

A little later and Chip pulled up by the gates by the palisade. A town deputy, dismounting from her horse, walked slowly over, and she wound down the window.

“Afternoon. What bis-i-ness do you have in this hee-yeah town, miss?” The woman’s heavy accent sloughed its way across the desert air, and Chip smiled warmly up at her.

“I’m here to refuel and pick up supplies. I’m headed to Nippur next.”

“Ah right, part of the blee-din’ hearts club ain’t ya. Nowt wrong with that, but take care it don’t get ya killed out there. Have a nice day.” Without a backwards glance, the deputy wandered back to her horse, saddling up in a single slow arc.

Chip waited for the gates to open before driving slowly into the crooked streets of the Town With No Name. She quickly made her way to the scrapyard she’d purchased the original parts for the Fisti-Cuffs at, wondering if there was anything new that might serve as a good way to pass the time that evening.

Leaving the scrapyard with a woven bag filled with scrap electronics and parts, she opened the boot of the car and carefully balanced it in one corner. She closed the boot and locked the car before heading to get food and supplies.

The market was in full swing, a selection of cultures that shared a habitual siesta making the most of the remaining day’s light. Chip wandered amongst the stalls, picking long lasting foods and bottles of water from the town aquifer. An bipedal griffon hawked pharmaceuticals he’d brought here from Carrefore, and she relieved him of his supply of bandages and painkillers; a mage accompanied by some sand golems brought healing potions from one of the Camelot duchies, and she picked up the less expensive variants; a collection of discount clothes made their way onto her hastily purchased trolley.

As she went to pay for a hot potato, the meal finishing off her shopping list, she noticed a little waif of a girl, long drooping points marking her as non-human, staring wistfully up at the hot food. Chip gestured to the girl subtly, and when she forked over twice as much the stall owner gave her an amused look. Leaving the market behind, she returned to the car with the collection in tow.

Once she’d loaded the back seats and the trunk fully, Chip decided to call it a night. The sun had just begun to set, and in the shelter of the Town With No Name’s walls she felt safe enough to sleep in the passenger seat, lowered right down to form a bed. Making sure the door was locked, Chip’s three eyes drifted closed and she slept soundly.

A blue-haired girl sits on the edge of the Fountain at the center of the Omniverse, thinking about everything that's happened in the past minute. She's not entirely sure what she was doing before she showed up here - maybe she was even asleep when she was taken. Maybe she's still asleep now, and this is all just a dream. Maybe she just got drunk or high and passed out in the living room.

Either way, her current situation is not a happy one. In a few minutes, she'd been taken from her home - everything she knew, gone. She sighs, getting up. Might as well see what hellhole she's been flung into, right? Looking around, she can't see much, but she does see something in the distance. Eight things, actually - 1 in each direction. After another minute of thought, she decides it's best to get moving, but she has a feeling she won't exactly be able to get there fast on foot. Then, she remembers. That Omni guy told her that if she just "focuses on what she desires," she'll get it - at least, as far as she understood.

So, if she focused on thoughts of a vehicle...?

Extending her arms in front of her, she focuses on her old car from home. The old brown pick-up truck, the stickers covering it, the fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror, the panda keychain housing the keys to the truck, everything. In several minutes, it forms, Omnilium forged into shining brown metal. And the keys are in her hands.

Getting behind the familiar wheel and starting the engine, she looks around, before ultimately deciding on the one right in front of the vehicle. And with that, she sets off, to see what this world has in store for her.

The unlikely duo stepped into the cold harshness that was the Frozen Fields. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they took their first steps. A chill instantly ran down the vigilante’s spine, reminding her to zip up her jacket and roll down her sleeves. Ballad, however, seemed prepared for a chilly adventure with the heavy clothing he wore. Dawn took his initiative and summoned a large purple scarf as quickly as possible, wrapping it around her neck posthaste.


“Bitch..” Dawn whispered to herself rubbing her hands against her arms to create some warmth through method of friction. She knew it would be cold, but this was worse than anticipated. Thankfully, there wasn’t a profound blizzard right now, so visibility was decent. The small veils of loose snow being blown in the wind made an exceptional smokescreen, though.


“It is rather unforgiving here, is it not?” Ballad asked giving Dawn a quick glance. His revolver was still firm in his hand.


“You can say that again.” She agreed. “I still like it more than that Nexus. At least there’s a general atmosphere of something.”


Seeing Ballad’s weapon drawn, the vigilante thought it might be a good idea to draw her own. The problem was that her current weapons were insufficient to the task in this weather. She would need a close-range arsenal for this.


“Hey, watch my six. I’m going to acquire some more weapons.” Ballad was confused with the adolescent's code, though he assumed it meant to protect her while she did what she needed to. The vigilante focused her ‘power’ or whatever it was that made her prime into her glove that was once the omnilium orb received from Omni. It took nearly an hour, but soon Dawn had summoned many new weapons: A shotgun - which replaced the sword on her back, a pistol, a combat knife and a belt of grenades. Moyashi disappeared into the ether, as the assassin had no room to carry it anywhere else.

The gunsmith observed all of these weapons. He seemed quite interested in weaponry, at least guns. The assassin smirked at her prowess and her companion’s expression towards it. “I can see my weapons interest you. Would you like a demonstration? All I need is a target.”

IS MORE HARDCORE THAN IT SOUNDS.

For those of you who don't know, this anime is about the most pointless slice of of life crap you could ever watch, but the opening title sequence and dance number is FUCKING INCREDIBLE.

WHAT DO I MEAN BY THAT?

You see, the dance that the girls do during the opening credits, spanning from about the first shot of the blue haired girl to the part where the stars roll up the screen, will almost perfectly match ANY GODDAMN SONG YOU PUT IT TO.

I HAVE TESTED IT AND TESTED IT AND TESTED IT.

Only a few songs that are either VERY slow or VERY fast don't quite work, but the rest?

Flawless.

http://m.imgur.com/gallery/TRBzHyB

I challenge you to find one that they can't dance to.

Bendy wasn't entirely sure what had just happened-- he knew that Henry had activated the Ink Machine, but things hadn't worked as intended and now ink was absolutely everywhere. Apparently one of the pipes burst. He just needed enough ink to regain his physical form, not to flood the workshop! Ugh, now he needed to go clean up this mess; ink stains were almost impossible to get out of wood and he didn't want to waste any of it coloring the walls.

As the little devil made his way around and tried to wipe the excess ink off of his face, he stumbled across a hole that hadn't been there before. It was just shy of the exit, so... Henry probably fell down there while trying to flee. From a quick estimate, the inky monster realized that it led straight to the basement. That wasn't a good thing. He had to find the man before he found that... one place.

He took a few steps back, then rushed at the hole. Right before he got a chance to jump in, his vision was blocked by stray ink. He stopped at the edge of the descent and attempted to clean himself again. When he finally got the ink out of his eyes, however, he was surrounded by black. Did he forget to shut off the machine? It was the only explanation he had that could explain the sudden darkness that was all around him. He tried to move, but found himself glued to the spot.

A white silhouette appeared with the widest grin on its face. The demon was too confused to fully understand the stranger's explanation, but he caught the fact that he had been thrown into a new universe. He also learned that that he could make stuff with Omnilium and that he couldn't die.

Before he could wrap his head around this new information, he was immediately submerged underwater. In a panic, he flailed his way to the surface and pulled himself out of the monochrome fountain he had found himself in. While the liquid didn't actually penetrate his skin, it had washed away the excess ink, much to the living cartoon's pleasure.

As he glanced around the unfinished world, his confusion only grew. People of all shapes of sizes could be seen, most of them towering over Bendy by a foot or two. Well, he needed to get more information, so he ran up to a random person. "Howdy there! The name's Bendy! I seem to be a bit lost. Mind explaining where I am?"

As I stroll into town, I take note of my surroundings.

The village is nestled in a trough between two of the gentle, grassy hills which sprawl across the greater valley's eastern slope, and partially hidden within a broad wooded grove. The architecture of the dozen-and-half-or-so thatch-roofed buildings ensconced between the trees is strictly practical, the materials an even split between timber and the red stone which seems so prevalent in this area. The streets are laid out in a sort of haphazard grid, and like all of the roads I've seen since arriving in this vibrant little world, they're made of packed earth - though there are a few flat, red stones embedded here and there. Trees are scattered at random throughout, sometimes growing in the middle of the road, providing ample shade. 

There are many people here, dressed in simple clothes. They wear unadorned pants and shirts, or dresses (I have a vague understanding that this has something to do with gender, but the whole idea of clothes seems so very nearly pointless). They mill about the streets, walking between the buildings on mysterious peasant errands or unloading carts full of goods - doubtless produced by the surrounding farmlands through the efforts of people like Luke Darby. 

The air smells of growing things, stone, wet earth and manure (which isn't bad as far as words for excrement go - though the concept itself is frankly horrifying).

It's my first experience seeing a street from this angle. I would dearly love to just roam and observe, to understand all the tiny, individual threads of experience which come together to create this scene, but sadly, the participants have other ideas; As I stride down the central thoroughfare all activity grinds to a halt. A wave of paralyzed awe spreads outward as the people notice each other noticing me. Almost mechanically, all eyes are drawn to my lustrous golden form. I can't tell whether they sense the threat I represent, warned by some lesser mammalian instinct, or if they're just struck dumb by my superior height, my obvious strength and burnished bronze visage.  

I stop, and I watch. Typically, had I my proper stature, by now they would have already started to run.  

Treetops creak in the breeze. A pile of bundled grain rustles as it settles in its wagon-bed. A dog barks somewhere nearby. Among the people silence reigns. 

The whispers start slowly, at the far end of the street, rippling towards me in a mirror-image of the initial shock brought on by my arrival. Villagers and farmers turn to the nearest person and talk urgently, mothers comforting children and men speaking in hushed, serious tones. The volume rises, and people begin move, either coming towards me or going indoors. The latter group is mostly the young, the old, and the women. The former is composed almost entirely of men, either grim or nervous. Some of them have tools in their hands, the instruments of their recently abandoned tasks. 

I grin. I'm not sure what it is these wretches think they're up to, but I'm sure I'm going to find out, and in so doing I'll learn something about their little community. 

As they form a circle around me, I catch snatches of their conversation. 
  
"Is he an elf?"

"He's too tall."

"Look at his ears!"

"Forget his ears, look at his teeth."

"What if he's a Prime?"

"What if he's not?" 

"Oh gods, not another one..." 

It continues in much the same vein for almost a minute before I grow bored. I can only listen to them being insecure and uncertain - and is that a hint of anger? How intriguing. I haven't even killed any of them yet! - for so long before the temptation to obliterate them all becomes unbearable. They're so tightly clustered, such easy prey for my golden lightning... 

"Tell me about yourselves," I interject, my commanding tone cutting through their chatter. "I want to know about life in your village." 

It's a straightforward demand, but they don't know what to make of it. The murmuring starts again. 

"He wants to what?"

"What the hell?" 

"Who does he think he is?" 

"Imperious son of a bitch. I told you he was an elf!"  

"That was the rudest damn introduction I've ever heard!"

This time, it's one of their number who steps forward. He's a tall man, as human beings go, though still shorter than me, dressed in a thick apron and other sturdy fabrics. His hair is black and short, his face is flat and stony, and he looks fit (though I balk at applying that word to such a limited creature).  

"I'm afraid we're all a little confused about what you're doing here, friend," he says. "Harnburg's a human duchy, and this is a human village. Your kind - whatever your are - aren't welcome." 

I think about that for a moment, remembering Luke Darby's reaction to my appearance. It raises a lot of questions 

"So is it that you distrust anyone that isn't the same species as you, or are you afraid of them? Or is it disgust? Do you believe those who aren't human to be inferior? Does everyone in this valley feel the same way?"


I'd love too hear his answer - it would tell me so much about the fabric of his life and times - but he stares at me as though I've presented him with an unwelcome, unexpected, unsolvable puzzle. I ask another question.

"And what is an elf? I keep hearing that word, and I'd like to know whether or not I'm being insulted."   

Someone else, a thin man holding a pitchfork, speaks out. 

"And what'd you do about it if you were?" 

I stare at him. For the first time, it occurs to me that some of these people think they're holding weapons. If these men try to fight me - if they render more than the most passing and trivial of disrespect - I'll have to slaughter them all, and once I begin in earnest I don't think I'll be able to stop until this entire valley is in flames. As much as I'm looking forward to destroying them, and as brightly as the fires of their burning homes dance within my mind, I'd rather it not come to that before I have a better understanding of this place. There are still so many questions, such shades of meaning to be gleaned before I can fully appreciate their society. 

A demonstration is in order. 

I grab the pitchfork from the thin man's hands and I jam it into my own neck. The tines squeal torturously as they bend, harmless, against my unyielding golden scales! The assembled farmers and assorted villagers watch in stunned silence as I snap the now-useless implement in half and obliterate the remains by sending a single arc of astral charge booming through the space between my outstretched hands. Men scramble backwards, singed by arcs of stray power. Ashes and slag fall to the ground at my feet, and the smells of the village are replaced by the pungent tang of ozone and burning metal. I smile, my growling appetite for ruination momentarily appeased by the despoilage of a useful tool.

"I'd demand," I purr in the ensuing silence, "restitution. I am King Ghidorah, you hapless, tiny fools. You live by the grace of my curiosity - and you'd best choose your words accordingly."  

Quote:1272 words by the site word-counter.

-travel to a human duchy: accomplished

Hi guys! Avengers are still recruiting. If you have any interest in being a good guy, PM me or post here and I'll add you to the forum (and our group Skype once I figure it out). You don't have to be devoted to the group! 

Looking forward to seeing some new faces!

Ogong scowled as he trudged across the dirt near the gate of Camelot.

The monkey had dived through the gate, barely avoiding the barrage of fire from the weird white-armored men. There was no sign of the hooded figure on the other side. In other words, he had more or less been ditched.

“This is dumb,” Ogong groaned, toying with a pebble between his toes. His staff was (again) mysteriously dormant. The normally talkative weapon remained rigid in his hand. It was a shame. He sure could use someone to talk to.

“GGRAAWLALA”

The monstrous bellowing behind Ogong was laced with metallic screeching, as if a mountain-sized lion was scratching its nails against glass. The monkey turned his head to look at the source.

Instead of a terrifying beast, he just saw a monkey.

To be fair, the monkey would have looked fairly intimidating to anyone with even a sub-par sense of self-preservation. A dark fog hugged the chimp’s frame, and what looked like black sludge was leaking from its various orifices. The same substance dripped from razor claws which clearly were not natural – they were squeezing out from beneath the skin behind his real fingernails.

Ogong just saw a really muddy monkey.

In fact, a very familiar one.

“Oh, hey! Monking, right?”

Monking was the chief of Flower Mountain Island before Ogong. It seemed that whatever he was doing was not good, as his underlings veritably cheered when Ogong forcibly threw him off the island. Last time they met, Monking had attacked Ogong’s friends with some sort of scroll. Or something? Ogong didn’t quite remember.

“I…” the disgruntled simian growled, “feel… POWER!”

Monking suddenly lunged at Ogong, swiping the monkey with his claws. Ogong leaned to the right, dodging the blow by a hair.

“Dude!” Ogong groaned, “We have been over this. There is absolutely no need to- URGH”

Monking was faster than usual. Recovering unnaturally quickly from the missed attack, he landed a clenched fist into Ogong’s abdomen.

The monkey chief flew backwards. He landed on his hands and flipped back to his feet, clenching Yoe-Pil and preparing to strike with it.

“Okay, that was pretty hurtful,” Ogong grunted, “Mind not doing that?”

Monking lunged once again, this time poised to slam down on Ogong with all ten of his claws. Ogong managed to block the attack with his staff. Yoe-Pil reacted, and understandably so.

“GGAAHHHH” the staff screamed, bending in Ogong’s hands.

Monking stared at it, dumbfounded. Ogong took the opportunity to kick Monking back. Monking crumpled in the distance, and Ogong landed on the back of his shoulders. He sprang back to his feet, brandishing the rudely awakened staff.

“What does a guy need to do to get one SOLID nap around- hey, watch what you’re swinging me!”

Ogong clubbed Monking’s head with the staff and punched him. Monking skidded back, slowing his momentum by pressing his clawed hands against the dirt.

“This is ridiculous,” Yoe-Pil huffed, “You do remember that I’m a sentient weapon, right? As in, I feel every single- OH GOOD GOD MY SPINE”

Monking was currently trying to wrench the weapon from Ogong’s hands. The resulting twisting and squeezing motion was apparently painful. Monking let go of the rod, then slapped his opponent with the back of his hand.

“Just shut up, Yoe-Pil,” Ogong hissed through grit teeth.

“Who dis, anyway?” the rod whined, “Why are we fighting him?”

“I dunno, he attacked me!”

Monking made a low swipe, which Ogong lightly hopped over. He slammed Yoe-Pil onto Monking’s skull, causing both parties involved to cry out in pain.

“Alright, that’s it,” the staff whined once more, “You know magic. Use it.”

Ogong rolled his eyes, then focused his energy. He felt a Chinese character forming above his head, and the definition flowed through his arms. You had to understand the word completely – the abstract concept and every aspect of the character needed to be accounted for. Luckily, Ogong had managed to understand this one pretty well by now.

Three parallel lines crossed by a much longer one hovered above Ogong’s head.

“Soo!” Ogong bellowed. His eyes glowed as he made a downward slapping motion with his right hand. Monking flinched as he waited for the surely devastating attack. (Monking didn't know what the character meant but he could tell it wasn't good.)

Nothing happened.

Monking opened his eyes and started chuckling nervously. He was safe! Ogong couldn’t cast magic!

“Yoe-Pil?” Ogong muttered irritably.

“Hm?” the rod replied, “Oh. Oh, right. I gotchu.”

Ogong felt magical energy channel through the rod and through his elbow. Suddenly, an enormous gray hand shot through the ground behind Ogong, towering above both monkeys. Monking attempted to flee, but found he could not move while being crushed by a behemoth palm. It pressed him against the dirt for a few seconds, twisting to further embed the disgruntled monkey into the ground.

The hand suddenly retreated into the earth. Ogong glowered at Yoe-Pil.

“What?” the rod snapped, “You gotta start learning how to cast this crap on your own.”

“I do know how to cast this crap on my own. But it's easier when you help.”

Yoe-Pil rolled his eyes – and though Yoe-Pil had no face, Ogong could still tell exactly what his expression was.

“Whoa,” the monkey whispered, “What’s that?”

Ogong noticed a small black chip on the back of Monking’s neck. He bent over and picked at it, trying to remove it.

“That wasn’t there before-“

“HOLD IT!”

Ogong flinched and looked up. A man in a military uniform was running towards him.

“What?” Ogong snapped.

“That’s a Darkchip,” the man panted, “You don’t wanna touch that.”

“A dark-what now?” Yoe-Pil said.

The man frowned. “Did… did your stick just talk?”

Ogong instinctively held back Yoe-Pil as the staff lunged at the man, swinging wildly.

“How dare you! I am one of the Three Great Masters- YOU LET ME GO THIS INSTANT YOU ANNOYING MONKEY”

Ogong hugged the staff forcibly, somehow also muffling the whining of the mighty weapon.

“What’s a Darkchip?”

The man blinked rapidly, then sighed. He handed the monkey a small contact card. “Come to this address in Coruscant. Look for Dr. Regal. He can tell you more.”
The man groaned as he unceremoniously picked up Monking’s limp (and incidentally snoring) body and propped it onto his shoulder. He started making his way back through the gate.

Ogong let go of Yoe-Pil, who gasped for air.

“Let a brother breathe, you ape!”

“Yoe-Pil,” Ogong groaned, “You don’t have lungs.”

Yoe-Pil smacked the monkey over the head. “It’s psychosomatic, idiot!”

Ogong rolled his eyes as quietly as he could.

“Alright, whatever. Let’s go see this Regal guy.”

The monkey gazed at the portal in front of him, then at the business card in his hand. Yoe-Pil read it as well.

“Hey, Ogong.”

“Yeah?”

“You have no idea how to read this, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Neither do I.”

“Wing it?” the monkey shrugged.

“As always,” the staff sighed.

Sun Ogong jumped once more back through the portal.

Character name: Bendy

Character source: Bendy and the Ink Machine

Character history: Taken from the end of Chapter 1

Physical Description:

Stats:
ATK: 3
DEF: 1
SPD: 3
TEC: 3

Starting Proficiencies: Physical (1000), Ranged (1000), Remote Control (600)

Starting Powers: Disassemble (800), Malleability (1000), Hive Mind (400)

Starting Moves:
n/a

I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct. Yes

Where did you find us? I have a vacation home here.

Everything was black. Darkness surrounded the young girl for an undetermined amount of time. That was, until the white of the Nexus blinded her eyes. The nostalgic center of the universe at its finest - from the sky. Dawn began falling from the sky, as per her arrival the first time, but luckily her wings were available this time. She used them to slowly descend and land next to the pool of cool, white water, which looked exactly like the floor apart from being a fluid substance.

Once the threat of crashing into the Nexus floor was gone, the vigilante took a quick look around at the people around her: Mostly secondaries from appearance, if they were primes, they’d be moving much faster. A few primes could be seen floating above the secondaries with exceptional speed, or on vehicles of different eras and kinds.

Relatively safe for the time being, Dawn crept into the mechanisms of her mind to remember what happened. She knew she had died; if she is back in the Nexus the same way she came when she first got here, she must have died. When she tried to remember how she died, she couldn’t find it. It was like reading a book with torn pages: The memory is there but the page is blank. Unfortunately, with the knowledge of where her home was, she was doomed to wait out her abandoned memories until they returned.

It was only now that Dawn felt a horrid sickness claw at her stomach. Nausea engulfed her quickly and she wanted to hurl up her lunch if she had even eaten lunch. This realization made her wonder if she could even summon anything. She took the opportunity to summon a soda quickly and took a big swig of it. Thankfully, it tasted fine, despite soda being a bad choice of beverage with an upset stomach.

Like a lost animal, Dawn simply paced around the fountain, clawing at her memories to bring back the lost. If she could just remember where she lived, she would be fine until this sickness passed.