Link - http://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php?...8#pid92568

As you can see, we decided to codify an official set of steps for a group of writers who want to create an official faction. We've also formally outlined 'faction recognition,' which right now is merely equatable to being a successful and well-known organization/settlement (benefits may always been changed down the road).

We at staff felt like these guidelines should help give new groups both short-term and long-term goals, as well as rewards (in the form of growing importance in the world).

Questions? Let us know here.

I can't use the menus for the most part on my phone because they show off screen. Like changing accounts or typing in pm names.

"Hey... Undyne?"

"I'm coming. Just a second!"

What a time it had been... thanks to that they had emerged from the Underground right as the sun was rising, Alphys and Undyne had been able to spend the whole day with each other, until the late evening. With a little magic, moving the essentials from their homes to the Surface had been no problem, and with the Royal Guard dogs they had found a great spot at the foot of Mount Ebott to make their home, though of course that was just going to be for them. The dogs had brought their huts along and were camping a few minutes away. A day spent together at the beach, watching anime, going for a swim in the enormous body of water that was called the ocean, and finishing up with a swiftly built hut that they would make their makeshift home in until, with the help of a little magic and architectural skills, they could build a proper home to live in. Both of them were completely spent, and they could not be happier.

"What are you doing?" Alphys asked as she pulled the pajamas over her head. She stood in the 'door' (really it was a makeshift thing made out of big leaves that hung over the doorframe), looking up at Undyne who was working on the roof of the hut.

"Just applying some last corrections," Undyne replied before taking a strand of rope between her teeth and tugging on the other end with her hand until the wood of the hut creaked under the stress. There. Now no amount of wind would take away the protection from above while they slept. She leapt off the side and proudly admired her work. "Okay, that'll do it!"

"Don't you think you're... uhm, overdoing it? We're just gonna... I mean, we'll only live in this hut for a few days."

Undyne grinned as she smooched Alphys's forehead, causing the reptilian monster to turn tomato red in an instant. "I think my girlfriend would know me better!" She wasn't one to do half-assed work, ever. Had she not been this tired she would probably have built them a better hut than this shoddy wood and leaves thing with a floor and two rooms. But they'd gotten carried away over swimming in the ocean and only realized how much time had passed when the sun was starting to set. Her grin widened when Alphys turned even darker red than she had already been. Despite that they were now dating since several days the mention of the word 'girlfriend' still seemed to fry her brain circuits.

"A-a-anyway, uhm... I made the beds, we should go inside." She hurried to the side to let Undyne into the hut and let the leaves fall into the doorframe, then followed Undyne over to the area where the bedmats were laid out on the floor. Undyne was just sliding her eyepatch off and picking her pajamas up with her other hand. Alphys crawled under her bedsheets, making a point to look away as Undyne changed, then huddled up under the blankets while observing Undyne doing the same. "Hey... this was a great day. Thank you so much, Undyne..."

"Why're you saying it that way? You're making it sound like it's gonna be our last day together!" the fish-girl replied as she slid under her own bedsheets. "We'll wake up tomorrow, watch the sunrise, and have another awesome day together."

"Y-yeah... we will. I just... have a weird feeling. I'm sorry, eh... forget about it." She eyeballed the stack of comic books next to her bed for a moment but then decided against it and just laid down to sleep instead. Both of them drifted off to a deep sleep, their minds already set on the following day. But of course, things were going to turn out very differently...

When Undyne woke up, she was surrounded by darkness. At first she thought that it was only natural, it was night time after all. Hadn't they said that nighttime on the Surface was nearly as dark as the unlit time in the Underground? She thought that she had simply woken up a little early. But then, when she tried to sit up, she found that she could not move, nor feel her back side... or anything around her. As if swimming, she felt... weightless. Her initial surprise was replaced with discomfort. What was going on? Alphys, she wanted to say, is this some prank? If it is then cut it out, it's not funny anymore! But she could not move her mouth either. The discomfort grew, turning into... fear. That was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a while. Just what was going on with her? Why could she not...

Her thought process was cut short when a featureless white silhouette appeared before her, seemingly looking at her. It was hard to tell as there were no eyes on it. Its enormous toothy grin however made Undyne wonder whether it was a grin of happiness or of mishief. It bore no resemblance to anyone Undyne had ever seen. Then its mouth opened wider and it spoke to her.

Quote:“My name is Omni. This is not the world you know. This is the Omniverse. You interest me, so I have made you part of it. The Omniverse is a place that reflects the wishes of those who are part of it. But! There are rules. I will explain them only once, so listen carefully. This...”

Quote:"... is Omnilium. It’s what ties the Omniverse together. Without it, you are nothing. With it, anything you desire can be yours. But you will need more than this. If you desire it enough, you will find it. You will find that using it comes naturally. Just think of what you desire most.

You will not be alone in the Omniverse. There are others. Of course, they, too desire Omnilium. Do not fear death. For as long as you interest me, you will be reborn.

That’s all you need to know right now. You’ll figure out the rest soon enough. I’ll be watching … and waiting.”

Sooo I was thinking about words and slang -how it creates a comaderie among people and cultures- and was curious, what do you have your secondaries or NPC's say that maybe your Primes don't?

Envy, powerless, and feeling like they are slaves to certain society's systems (Camelot farmers, fiends within the empire, soldiers of darkshire, outcasts of the endless dunes) can all make for some really cool ones. In my mind, I think of many avenues slang could go!

One point being, how do secondaries know when they look at a prime that they are? Radiance is usually how I imagine it, but certain secondaries could have some nasty remarks to feeling enslaved by primes. Slang can be as simple as a code word, or agreeable phrase, like in any other language, as well as an insult (in my mind I think of gangs and the great divider of sides) anyway, just curious for some good ones, as well as might come up with my own if I get the chance to ruminate on it. 

-Side note what might Primes refer as secondaries to? (Slaves? Peasants? Scum?) thats not quite slang but it might start the juices flowing!

Thanks for sharing !

Rory let the squad traipse into the bar ahead of him. They were good kids, fighting the good fight before all of this nonsense happened, but he wanted to chat with Jim. There would be plenty of downtime for Swann to bond with the troops, but he got the feeling his old commander might have more demands on his time now that he was a deputy.
 
He watched Adam dash in after his teammates, though the firebat stood some distance away, the metal head staring at the bar door. The dying afternoon sun glinted in her visor.
 
"Hey! You comin' in to celebrate?" Swann called out. "I think Jimbo's shoutin'."
 
The Hammer lingered another moment, turned and strode away without a word in the opposite direction.
 
"Yeah, OK," Swann shouted out, then to himself, "have a good night."
 
A hand patted him firmly on the back. He knew who it was without turning around.
 
"What's goin' on, Swann?" Raynor asked, a friendly smirk on his ruddy face. Must've forgot the sunscreen today. His new deputy star badge shone in the sinking sun's rays. "Thought you'd be in with the rest drinkin' on my tab by now."
 
"Hey, cowboy," Swann said. "Why ain't the firebat joinin' in on the festivities?"
 
Jim squinted in Hammer's direction. "Dunno. Not the social sort, from what I understand." He turned his attention back to Rory. "She'll be fine. Probably just wants to get out of that hot suit. C'mon, let's go in."
 
The two old comrades passed through the swinging saloon doors and into the bar. The squad had pulled a few smaller tables together so they could all sit around with a mug of ale and chat. They were the liveliest mob in the establishment, with a balding middle aged man at the bar the only other patron this afternoon.
 
Rory plonked down on a stool at the bar and Jim claimed the one next to him. "Hey barkeep! Two cold ones, and the deputy here's buyin'!"
 
Jim fished a couple of notes from his trouser pockets and slid them to the barkeeper. "And this is for that plate I shot a little while ago." The barkeeper frowned, but took the money. "Won't happen again, I swear. Can't be committin' property damage now that I'm helpin' the law 'round here."
 
Rory chuckled and sipped his ale. Strong stuff, and cold somehow, despite the aggressive heat. He felt the chilled liquor funnel down his throat and coil into his stomach, cooling him from the inside as it went down. Perfect after a hard day of tinkering with machines.
 
"So, what'd you get up to today while we were out?" Raynor asked, leaning on his elbows.
 
"Hah, nothin' as excitin' as you, I'm sure," Swann said. "In fact, it was mostly work so basic I wouldn't let my apprentice touch, but since the sheriff's been so welcomin', I figured I could get my knees a little dirty to repay 'im." He took another swig from his mug and wiped the foam that clung to his moustache. "You?"
 
"Oh, y'know, the usual," Jim said. "Gettin' shot down and crash landin' in the desert, takin' hostage by a bunch of thugs, almost gettin' ourselves killed breakin' out ... all in a day's work."
 
"Huh. I wondered what ya did with that dropship." Swann glanced over his shoulder, noting another absence. "Where's that protoss you saved?"
 
"In your workshop," Raynor said, turning around in his bar stool to stare out the door. "Bein' a phase-smith, he likes to tinker with stuff too. Thought he might find somethin' of interest in there."
 
Swann frowned. "Why not invite him in for a drink?"
 
Jim raised his eyebrows, then after a pause, he patted his mouth. "'Cause protoss don't drink, Swann."
 
"Oh yeah." Swann spun around on his stool. "Don't know how I forget that."
 
"Karax doesn't make you ... uncomfortable, does he Swann?"
 
Rory instantly felt flustered. Something about the protoss race creeped him out. The lack of a mouth and nose meant facial expressions, if they even had them, were all but impossible to read. Plus even the shortest protoss was taller than most men, and that psychic voodoo ... ghosts he could handle, but not something that could create lightning with its mind.
 
Swann brushed it off, though he knew he was overacting. "Psssh, the protoss? Nah. Just ... not as used to dealin' with telepaths as you are, cowboy. Y'know, voices echoin' in your head? Takes a bit of gettin' used to."
 
Jim narrowed his eyes and his lips pressed together. "Karax is a phase-smith, Swann. He's like you, 'cept with khaydarin crystals and warp fields. His caste never got formal combat training. He'd be as useless as you on a battlefield."
 
The Hyperion engineer didn't let it show, but knowing the protoss couldn't mind-fry him if he was in a bad mood put him at ease a little. Or maybe it was the ale, calming him down. It was potent stuff. "I think there's an insult in there somewhere."
 
"Just relax," Jim said, slapping Swann's shoulder. "He's stickin' around for a while. Maybe you could both learn from each other, huh? Imagine what you could do if you could stick protoss tech into ours."
 
Swann took another slurp of ale. The concept of fusing protoss and terran technology had always appealed to him. He could only imagine what sort of inventions and weaponry he could build with the knowledge of that ancient race. If he could just get past his trepidation of them, he could make use of that phase-smith and see some of his dreams come to life.

From the bar, Swann saw Karax wandered into his workshop, inspecting objects, crouching down and examining everything he could find. He didn't seem to be touching anything, which was at least respectful of the terran engineer and his workspace. Perhaps there were some overlap between their two roles after all.
 
"I have always wanted to learn how they zap stuff around and make them shields," Swann said, tipping the last of his drink down his gullet and banging the mug on the bar. He smoothed the ale from his beard and hopped off his bar stool. Curiosity, or maybe the drink, overcame his caution. "He's lookin' a mite lonely. Not fair that a race as advanced as his can't enjoy somethin' simple like a beer. Might go keep 'im company."
 
Raynor lifted his mug in salute. "Right decent of ya, Swann."
 
Rory stepped foot outside the bar, the dust pluming at each step. The sky had darkened into a deep navy, with a light blue ribbon running across the horizon. The heat absorbed by the ground still resonated, but in mere minutes the cold of night would set in and he could appreciate some time without sweating from every pore. He considered if protoss could even sweat, seeing as how their skin looked scaly and dry even in good conditions.
 
He reached the workshop. Karax had his back to him, blue eyes scanning over objects on Swann's bench. He hadn't noticed Swann's arrival, apparently. The experienced engineer flicked on the lights, and the protoss phase-smith spun immediately as if caught in the act of theft. Swann couldn't tell if he wore a guilty face or not, seeing as there wasn't much to go on in that department.
 
<Oh,> the voice echoed in Swann's head. <Rory Swann. You startled me.>
 
"Takin' a look through my workshop?" Swann asked, folding his flesh arm and metal claw over his chest. "Like what you see?"
 
<I am somewhat up-to-date on the latest terran technology,> the phase-smith replied. <It's primitive, eventually decays to rust, can often be volatile and dangerous even to the user.> He paused, picking up a part from Jim's CMC-400 armour that Rory had dismantled earlier. <It lacks polish and refinement.> He met Swann's eyes. <Yet it has a certain level of charm.>
 
"Charm?" That wasn't a word he thought a protoss would use to describe terran tech. "We have charm? That's what you think of us?"
 
<I don't mean to cause offense, Rory Swann,> Karax said, placing the part back on the bench. <But in comparison to the protoss, you've only just begun your technological journey. I believe it's still customary for terrans to utilise nuclear weaponry. Is that the case?>
 
Rory sniffed. The protoss was being pretty arrogant, though probably not intentionally. Besides, Karax wasn't completely wrong. He'd seen what their fleets were capable of; highly concentrated laser beams, teleportation, shielding, long range energy blasts ... it was truly incredible, far beyond anything he could scrape up. The Yamato cannon was probably the best example of human firepower that didn't include splitting the atom, but much of their arsenal still relied on plugging hot chunks of accelerated metal through an elongated tube. Still, he didn't like how the protoss was looking down his nose at it. Well, figuratively speaking.
 
"What's wrong with nukes, huh?" Swann said, sounding more aggressive than he meant to. "Does the job, don't it?"
 
Karax studied him for a moment. <It is quite powerful, but it's indiscriminate and messy. At least from a protoss point of view. To combat the zerg, terran weapons are very effective.>
 
The phase-smith's tone was still level, as if he hadn't picked up on Swann's annoyance with how casually he disparaged the entire military history of humanity. The Hyperion engineer set his jaw, trying to bite his tongue, but Swann was never one to speak up when pride was on the line. "Listen here, you-"
 
"Hey! What's goin' on in this room?"
 
Rory spun at the sudden voice. Jim sauntered in, mug of ale still in one hand, though his eyes were clear and without that glassy sheen they got when he was drunk. The greeting was friendly, as if he stumbled into the workshop and found some new drinking buddies, but Raynor rarely did anything without there being a bigger purpose to it.
 
<Good evening, James Raynor,> Karax said.
 
"Oh, uh, nothin'," Swann said, scratching at the back of his head. "Just havin' a chat."
 
"Oh yeah?" Jim said. "What about?"
 
<The variance in protoss and terran technology,> Karax replied. <Swann has been questioning the effectiveness and elegance of his own kind's technology, asking me as if I understand it better than he does.>
 
"That right?" Jim said, sending a narrow-eyed glance at Swann. "Don't s'pose he's been unfriendly?"
 
The phase-smith lifted an eyebrow. <No, James Raynor. We've been merely chatting.>
 
"Well," Raynor said, taking a draw from his mug, "I'm glad to hear that. Sounds like you two'll be good friends in no time."
 
Karax seemed confused by the sentiment. <Yes. That would be ... advantageous.>
 
Dammit Jim! Didn't he hear any of what that psychic freak was saying about terran tech? Swann had been studying and mastering it his entire life, and then this bozo strolls in and starts badmouthing - badminding - it? Where was his honour?
 
<Well, if you two don't mind, I believe I will retire for the night. It's been a long day.>
 
"Sure thing, Karax," Jim said with a friendly grin. "Head on in to that office over there. I'll come in and get things comfortable for you in a moment."
 
The phase-smith inclined his head. <Thank you, James Raynor. Your hospitality is appreciated.> His gleaming blue eyes settled on the engineer. <Good night, Rory Swann.>
 
"Yeah, night," Swann said, trying to inject some enthusiasm. "Don't let the uh ... bed bugs bite."
 
Karax frowned. <Bed bugs? How do I stop them from biting me? Are they venemous?>
 
"Go on in," Jim said, waving his hand. "Just an old terran expression."
 
<Ah,> Karax said. <For a primitive race, there is still much complexity to you.> He wandered out of the workshop, leaving Jim and Rory alone.
 
"Mind tellin' me what you were about to say before I walked in on it?" Raynor said, brow furrowed. "Didn't sound like it was gonna be real neighbourly."
 
"He was trash-talkin' terran tech! What, did you wanna let 'im do it without me sayin' somethin'?"
 
Jim squinted at Swann. "Do you think a protoss was purposefully makin' fun of terrans, after we saved his life? The only protoss I know who'd do that is Alarak."
 
"But-"
 
"If he really was doin' that, I bet it was a misunderstandin'. That or you're just blowin' things outta proportion."
 
Swann felt his mouth drop open. "What? Why are you takin' his side?"
 
"Look," Raynor said in a lower tone. "It's been a rough day. Let's just ... leave it."
 
Rory clenched his teeth. He wanted to keep fighting. Why was Jim so quick to defend the alien? They were old buddies. He didn't hear what it was saying about terran achievements. He didn't hear how it was trivialising Swann's life and the work he had dedicated himself to. Yet when Jim said an argument was over, it was over. He remembered a time when Tychus Findlay didn't simmer down after getting drunk and starting trouble, and it ended with Jim sticking an exposed electrical wire into his back.
 
"Sure thing, cowboy," Swann said, his tone low. "Let's hit the hay."
 
Jim nodded. "Night, Swann."
 
Rory frowned as his commander ambled away. "Night."

Hey-oooo, my name is Alex and I'm your Archangel/World-designer Enthusiast. Ever since I joined staff, my interest was always in the in-character world. Not only have I always loved world design (as attested to the fact that I have an unfinished manuscript that's smaller than the document I used to design its setting), but also, y'know, Omni was the system guy. I picked a niche I was passionate about and never left.

I'm always trying to think of ways to keep stuff fresh, whether it was larger NPC profiles, faction quests, or the general shift to more diversified quest types and quest rewards. Another thing I've always wanted to do (you can ask anyone who has been a UotM) is create some sort of centralized 'How To'. As I try to get that going, I'm going to put my focus on the in-character world and crafting what, I believe, will eventually become a supplemental guide or FAQ for each of our verses, listing common questions or facts that might not be relevant and/or might clog down existing Info Threads.

Now, since the whole point is to base this in questions/concerns from the community, I want to open this up so I can get input from people. I don't want to do a thread back and forth, because that's boring and time-consuming. Instead, what we'll do is, I'll be available for X amount of time in Discord. It'll be a text chat (so I have notes/a record), but pretty much, it'll take the form of a Q&A about the verse, its leadership, its outerlying settlements, etc. From that, staff and I will work on a template for what is something that can hopefully be extended to all the verses.

The date for this is February 1st, which I know probably feels like light-years away for many people, but I have mid-term papers due that Monday and Tuesday, and I don't want that stuff weighing on me. I wanna be able to relax.

If this is something that interests you, say so. That way, I can at least make sure I won't be sitting alone with my cats. If you have any questions about this process, ask. Just don't ask any questions ahead of time, because I'll make a scrunchy face at you.

Stuck in a world where your fiancee doesn't exist where everything you did for both the mortal and spirit realm never counted for anything and a place where no one knew who he was. It felt eerie as if he had been walking in circles this whole time in this blank canvas of a world he had been so graciously placed in by this god like figure called Omni. As he looked around to see several gates all presumably leading to another realm connected to this one he then sighed as he pressed on through this blank void. "Jeez this place is so boring! There's no color or life anywhere to find!" 
He stared at the doors and curious where each would lead but stood there in the emptiness contemplating what he would do in this empty world just waiting for something, anything at all.

As he stared into space a bit he just let himself wonder towards one of the doors more out of curiosity than anything else as he pressed on through the door to a a huge desert like area labeled on the door 'The Endless Dunes'. The door shut behind him and here he was without any friends or a place to call home just him and no one else.

Interested in getting involved in designing content for the Omniverse?

Please be aware that when I say 'content,' I don't mean grandiose events.  Everyone always has grandiose ideas, but what I'm looking for are people who can help make the world feel more alive.  This means helping to create content in the form of unique or repeatable quests, along with NPCs and areas.

As part of this, I'm taking applications to become a 'Story Aide'.  What's that?

Staff Forum Alex Wrote:A Story Aide is part of the Story Guide user group

The primary role of a Story Aide is to collaborate with other Story Aides to:

DO: Help create New Content for existing verses. This can fall under the umbrella of designing sub-zones, secondary or prime NPCs, or storylines
DO: Create new Quests – This can run the range from more open-ended repeatable quests to unique quests that give out rewards or special items or whatnot
DO: Help Story Guides/the staff flesh out Storyteller threads and Storyteller 'responses' to in-world events
DO: Help make the world feel more fluid and dynamic on the local-level.
DO NOT: Create grandiose quests with artefacts and world-shattering stuff
DO NOT: Feel the need to like, fundamentally alter existing status quo
DO NOT: Design giant sagas or other stuff

Story Aides have to provide some form of content in a given time period or they're removed. I'm more than happy to micro-manage this group of people, with the intention of working until a team of dedicated and energized writers/rpers can be found. They're out there, I know it!

"Are you ENG-5033?"

ENG-5033 looked up. Captain Romero was standing in front of him in her scorched Stormtrooper gear. He jolted upwards and saluted.

"Yes, ma'am."

Romero nodded. "Walk with me."

The captain turned and briskly marched down the hallway. ENG-5033 followed hurriedly. Engineers and other Stormtroopers were buzzing around them, complaining about injuries or making light of the various wars Coruscant was involved in. The light black floor glinted under the fluorescent lightbulbs, which lined the uncomfortably low ceiling. Hatches and control panels lined the walls. For all ENG-5033 knew, they could be decorating the walls - nobody seemed to know what they were for.

They were approaching the lift that moved troops to various Tiers. Some of the other Stormtroopers called it Glass Elevator. ENG-5033 assumed that nickname was an inside joke of some sort. They also called it the Highway to Hell. ENG-5033 hoped that nickname was a joke as well.

Romero pressed a button on the elevator's keypad, then punched in her access code. The cylindrical glass walls of the elevator separated into a doorway. Captain Romero and 5033 entered the tube, prompting the doors to shut. The elevator seemed to very suddenly reach terminal velocity, letting gravity take them to their destination.

"You know what we're fighting here?"

ENG-5033 briskly shook his head. "No, ma'am."

Romero sighed. "We have been tasked to deal with the Dalek infestation on Tier Six."

For the first time on duty, ENG-5033 flinched. 

"Yeah, I thought you might recognize the name," Romero chuckled. "ENG. You must be our chronophysics engineer."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fresh out of the Academy?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Great," the captain lamented, "Well, as cliché as it sounds, forget everything you learned in the academy besides taking cover and how to reload your gun. It's not like that with the Daleks. They don't cooperate, they don't negotiate. They just kill until they die. And they don't die very much. Understand?"

ENG-5033's posture remained the same, but Captain Romero sensed what he was thinking. Or perhaps it was because every sane individual had come across the same thought.

"You aren't being punished, soldier," Captain Romero, "Not by the Empire, anyway, and I don't believe in that Omni crap. The Empire doesn't work like that. The Senate and all those bureaucrats just see all the threats to Coruscant as stains on a wall. Nothing dangerous, just something dirty to wipe off with a tissue. As soon as a tissue gets dirty, or if they pull out a tissue and it's already ripped, they just throw it out. And guess what?"

Hearing Romero speak so harshly of the Empire made ENG-5033 flinch once more. That was twice in one day. Romero tersely looked at ENG-5033 through her visor.

"We're the tissues."

The doors slid open to another corridor. It looked like it used to be identical to the ones in the barracks. There were some differences. The walls upstairs were covered in lights and keyboards. The walls down here were covered with ash and blood. FN-5033 blinked a few times, then turned on the LED flashlight attached to the side of his helmet. Romero did the same.

"Welcome to Operation Pest Control."

ENG-5033 stepped forward tentatively, following the brisk march of Captain Romero.

"What... happened here?" 5033 stammered.

"Told you," Romero replied under her breath, "Dalek problem."

5033 listened closely. He could hear laserfire in the distance. Lots of it. And a metallic drone that blared every so often.

"We set up some miniature Time Trenches down there," Romero said over the radio, "Little trick we learned from an anonymous benefactor. We're actually killing quite a few Daleks, since they can't kill us. They're also pretty slow. Helps a bit."

They arrived at the Time Trenches. They were impressive pieces of machinery. Anything deemed hostile according to the operating system was instantly displaced one microsecond forward. As long as the machine was on, this process repeated, meaning that hostile entities, say, a blaster shot, would be infinitely displaced one microsecond forward. Forever. It was one of the reasons that the Zerg were defeated so easily. It was hard to fight a war when all of your troops were forcefully imprisoned in an invisible wall until the end of time.

But something wasn't right. 

5033 frowned. "What the..."

Every few seconds, an invisible wall would suddenly become visible in a flurry of blue and red lights. Every time it flashed, 5033 could see strange figures inside the wall. Laser bolts occasionally flashed, moving forward every so slightly each time the wall flashed. The Stormtrooper squad deployed here watched it nervously.

"It's glitching," Romero glanced at the power cells fueling the Trenches. "We don't know why. That's why we called you here. The Daleks fired a barrage of Dalekanium grenades and I guess something got busted."

"Where's you benefactor?" 5033 asked.

"The Doctor comes and goes without warning," Captain Romero replied, "Best not to depend on him showing up." 

"I don't know how to fix this," 5033 quietly reported, "This is... unprecedented."

"Well, you need to give it your best shot," Romero bitterly said, "Or all hell's gonna break loose."

5033 knelt nervously next to the power cells. He started typing at the console next to them. There was no indication that there was anything wrong with the power cells. In fact, the Trenches were holding very well. So what was the problem?

Without warning, the wall exploded. A tidal wave of azure energy washed over the squad of Stormtroopers, knocking them all backwards onto their backs. Some of the troops recovered quickly and aimed their guns at the smoke which used to be the Time Trench.

"What did you do?" Romero screamed, readying her rifle as well.

"I didn't do anything!" 5033 replied. 

A strange machine emerged from the smoke. It looked like a tank would if tanks were tall and skinny. It had some sort of rod with an camera lens at the end of it. Just below it, what appeared to be a whisk was sticking out next to a plunger.

"It looks like a multi-purpose pepper grinder," 5033 whispered incredulously.

The Dalek's "head" spun to process the presence of all of the Stormtroopers. The light bulbs on its side flashed.

"EXTERMINATE."

A bolt of light shot from the whisk, piercing one of the Stormtroopers nearby. The Stormtrooper screamed in pain as his body was surrounded in blinding light. Branches of lightning wrapped around the soldier's unfortunately conductive armor. Hauntingly enough, 5033 thought he could see the victim's skeleton as if he was being X-rayed. Unlike the Stormtroopers' standard-issue blaster rifles, it passed right through the soldier and scorched the wall behind him.

"Open fire!" hollered Romero.

All of the Stormtroopers started focusing their fire on the one Dalek. The lid of the tank shot upwards, embedding into the ceiling. The Dalek's gun continued to fire at the soldiers. The Stormtroopers were thankfully carefully behind cover as the Dalek slowly powered down.

"EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINAAAaaaa..."

The Dalek stopped moving. 5033 peeked from behind cover.

"Is it dead?" he asked.

Romero peeked as well. "Looks like. We need to get that Trench back up as soon as possi-"

Everything went black.

5033 woke up. He tried to process what happened. He could hear nothing. Gravity seemed to be moving differently. It took him a few seconds to realize he was on his side, and that the ringing in his ears was not supposed to be there. 5033 pushed himself up. He then realized that he no longer had legs. 

There was fire everywhere. The makeshift wall that the Stormtroopers were using for cover had been converted into shrapnel. White lumps were scattered around everywhere.

As ENG-5033 tried to stand up, three Daleks approached him. They towered over him, watching him through their strange-looking eyes.

"EXTERMINATE."

5033 closed his eyes and let his head rest on the ground.