Hours had passed, and Morene eventually found herself treading back to the Nexus where she started to make plans. The rather interesting Empire soldier was nowhere to be found, and Morene painstakingly realized that was the second person she's really met in the Omniverse whom happened to disappear all of a sudden.

Worse yet, whatever the Empire could have possibly wanted, they had no leads. The Moors was the most obvious place to go going by description, but...

Honestly, Morene only wanted to go there because it sounded homey, eerily similar to her previous living quarters in Creedhallow back at her homeworld. Everything seemed to match up; the monsters, trees, grassy plains and even the rather fearful denizens. But, that wasn't too important at the moment, considering she had to get there first.

Sweet memories flashed from the back of her head as soon as she thought back to Creedhallow, and how much people had trusted Morene there. It took a while, but... Being the first real place she had a reputation, it made her feel warm to know she was capable of changing things. The huntress could only hope the Omniverse would allow her to do the same, considering nothing she's seen so far has really surprised her too much.

Morene felt the ground shake beneath her, whatever ground there was to speak of. She looked ahead in the direction of the Fountain she had seemingly popped into existence from. She could very definitely see explosions, and... usually she'd want to investigate, but she already knew whatever was happening over there was very much so out of her control. Hopefully Omni wasn't lying about what he said about "not fearing death."

Rubbing at one of her eyes, Morene sighed. The temptation was definitely there to simply glide in the general direction of the fountain, but she knew even then the fight would be over, if it even IS a fight. Perhaps it's somebody testing their powers?

Either way, Morene knew she couldn't stay long. Looking at the Nexus for so many hours convinced the huntress that if she'd do it any longer, insanity would ensue.

In reality however, the woman was just tired again. It wasn't the worst feeling in the world, but... She'd really need to get a good night's sleep soon. The huntress continued to walk until her feet began to numb slightly; a feeling she wasn't entirely alien to, but here it felt insufferable. Morene wasn't exactly sure why either. It's not like she's gone for weeks without sleep in the past, as much as she hates to bring back the memory.

Especially the bits about being trapped inside of a magically impervious horrific mansion in the middle of almost literally nowhere back on Teria, Morene thought, but soon digressed shaking her head.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to immediately head for the Moors if sleeping was the first thing she'd want to do, but she already knew her plans would probably be cut short sooner or later.

Omni had his ways, after all.

Illidan is amassing an army to march on Darkshire, with the intention of destroying it utterly. He has a swarm of ghosts at his command, but he has also sent out the word across the Pale Moors and beyond to any who wish to join in him in the dark conquest of the settlement.

So basically, if you are interested in attacking Darkshire with Illidan, let me know. If you want to defend Darkshire, also register your intent. 

If you want to attack Darkshire:
- let me know here
- write that you were contacted by either a docile werewolf (Clawfang), a bored looking old man (Regis), or one of their helpers (make up whatever you want) to join Illidan's march.
- head to the Pale Moors and to Poenari Castle, where Illidan will greet you. 

If you want to defend Darkshire:
- let me know here
- write that you were contacted by messengers of Darkshire, whose scouts detected a potential army building for an unknown purpose
- travel to the Pale Moors and station yourself at Darkshire in preparation for the fight

This was going to be a personal saga (and is part of it) but I thought it'd be cool to get some PvP action going for something that has in-world meaning. I might give it a week? to let people sign up, but I'll play it by ear. Post any questions you have too.

The main thread is here: [Open] Assault on Darkshire

If you want to read about how it all came about, check out King of the Castle.

Hope to have some cool PvP fights and to add to the Omniverse's rich history!

Illidan leaned over the balcony wall of Poenari Castle, watching his newly formed ranks swirling about the courtyard. A few days had passed since allying with Cornelius White, the ex-Camelot mage turned necromancer, a man who had spent years fermenting in his own hatred. There were too many parallels between the raving White and himself, Illidan had realised; betrayed by his people and yet labelled as the traitor, the vast stretches of time filled with nothing but seething at those memories until they were sharp-edged. While the night elf had more common sense and wits about him, especially with the demonic influences always quietly nipping at his resolve in the background, this pasty-skinned human could be a hauntingly accurate possibility for Illidan if he did not keep his rage and bitterness in check.

The night elf considered bolstering the ghoulish army by sending for aid from Count Dracula, but he decided against it. There was the possibility Dracula hadn't launched an assault on Darkshire for reasons Illidan didn't understand, which could prove this campaign a loss before it had even started. Yet ultimately even if he failed, he would succeed in ridding Poenari Castle of the spiritual infestation. Besides, if the demon hunter went this alone and tore down the human settlement using his own initiative, he could only imagine the praise and adulation he would receive from the Pale Moors ruler. Perhaps a closer bond with him, more privileged information?

He was getting ahead of himself. The battle had yet to be won.

Clawfang the werewolf and Regis the necromancer had been dispatched across the Pale Moors, tasked with locating any powerful allies of Dracula who might deign to fight side-by-side with Illidan. While he wouldn't source fighters directly from his lord, he would further demonstrate his worth by rallying strong officers to the cause himself.

All this could be avoided if you just struck the necromancer down, a dark voice whispered in his ear. True, if Cornelius was dead, the spell that bound the spirits to the castle would break and Illidan would possess what he coveted. The idea was too foolish to execute, he concluded. Even if White could be killed in combat, Illidan knew he would almost certainly lose; if not due to the multitude of spirits that would tear him apart, then to the formidable powers of the necromancer himself. Besides, this battle gave the kaldorei an opportunity to underscore his value to Count Dracula.

The familiar slapping of bony feet and wood on stone echoed from the doorway. Cornelius hobbled beside the kaldorei, his final step punctuated by his staff smacking the balcony hard. "So, have you recovered your strength?"

Illidan nodded. It seemed Cornelius' own vitality drained by the day. Were the effects of the dark magic on his body reaching breaking point? 

"When do you think you'll be ready to march? My friends and I are champing at the bit to receive the vengeance we are owed."

The night elf cast his gaze over the horizon. A pity that his spectral sight didn't possess zoom functionality. "In due time, necromancer. I still await the return of Regis and Clawfang. It shall not hurt to wait a little longer."

White grunted and spat a wad of phlegm over the balcony wall. "I hope not. We've all been stewing in silence, not realising that the answer to our problem was under our nose the whole time. Now that you've revealed it to us, we are more than ready."

"I understand," Illidan said in a low tone, trying to console the necromancer. This wasn't the first time White had asked when the campaign would begin. "I also appreciate how it feels to be lost without purpose before rediscovering it again. But if you wish to have the best chance at destroying Darkshire and beyond, we must strike when we are at our strongest." Illidan faced Cornelius and spoke to him directly, a rarity that he hoped would help drive his point home. "Do you agree with me?"

Cornelius' foggy eyes stared at the hidden fireballs of the kaldorei's for a moment, his lips pursed and moving in a circle. "Yes. You are right. We've already waited years. We can wait a few more days."

"Excellent. You should rest." Illidan motioned to the door.

"Yes, yes," White said dismissively, plodding towards the doorway. "You'll be sure to alert me when the time comes?"

"Indeed," Illidan said, assessing the spirits that winded glowing coloured paths below. "We will delay not a minute longer ... once we are prepared."

“... I miss you... “

The heavy curtains drape over the white glass doors that lead out to the balcony, the fabric so thick it easily conceals the grand bedroom from any sort of invading light. This causes everything to be harshened down into the grey hues of a monotone scale with the exception of one reddened point atop the right nightstand. The smoke from the burning stick of incense lazily drifts through the room, carrying with it the soft smell of sandalwood.

Everything in the room is large, seemingly overdone; the birchwood furniture fitted with sterling silver inlays, the large chairs stuffed with pompous goose down pillows for cushions, an entire wall of the the room is paneled in a pageantry of polished silver mirrors. The huge bed in the center of the room is no different in theme. Its circular birchwood frame houses a rounded mattress, thin white curtains veiling the one lone figure that lay in the middle. Its form is clothed in the finest of woven white silks, long sleeves and numerous layers fanning out as if the figure is prepared to take to the skies.

For a long while, the figure stares up at the canopy of the bed, slowly sinking more and more into the plush mattress as it contemplates further.

“... Why did you leave me?” The figure says in a quiet and apprehensive tone, its birth signaling the death of the tranquil silence.

The smooth and harmonious notes of the voice gently dissolve back into the lull after a brief moment. A sickly pale arm reaches up, allowing the hand to touch the finely featured and narrow face, the back of it resting gently on the forehead. The other hand trails up the bed, sounding with it the rustle of silk against satin as the figure rolls over. Green-blue eyes open slightly, focusing on a seemingly distant object.

Completely fixated on this, a hand slides across the bed slowly, as if reaching towards the barren nightstand at the bedside. Hopeful fingers too weak to bridge the gap and clasp the silver necklace on the dusty jewelry display. Dim eyes settle on simply observing how the emerald holds to the green jade with intricate and curling silver tendrils. A soft, melancholic sigh can be heard as the fingers curl shut, grasping feebly at the sheets.

A winter day. A child plays in a courtyard, the snow indistinguishable from the ashen blonde locks of a young girl. She’s dressed in heavy white furs, the rosy coloring of her cheeks and nose the only color visible on her face. Her small mitten clothed hands leave tiny imprints in the white powder, making snowballs and sculpting various other objects. She hums a melody softly, unafraid of anyone else hearing her.

A boy approaches. His hair, too, is ashen blonde, though not as light as the girl’s. His skin is tanned and his eyes sharp. Across his shoulders, a small bear skin is draped; he is otherwise dressed in a thick tunic of earthen tones and a heavy pair of dark pants. Smiling, he brushes the girl’s shoulder and speaks her name.

She turns, a smile on her face, looking up at him with warmth and slight surprise. Her pouty raspberry colored lips part, asking of him his reason for being in the courtyard.

He responds with a question, asking her to do just this one simple thing with him. His voice is low and excited. His breath condensates in the crisp air as a hazy mist that is quickly blown away in the calm breeze.

Her expression turns demure before her brow furrows ever so slightly. She speaks once more, and her voice attempts to sound strong and convincing as she rejects his offer.

He attempts to interject, trying to persuade her to change her mind, but before he can get very far, those raspberry lips once more part to reject his suggestion. He ceases speaking, and simply gazes at her with a smile before reaching his right hand into his pocket. He calls her name once more, this time to catch her full attention as he extends his closed hand towards her.

With interested green-blue eyes, she stares at his hand then looks up at him, waiting but pleadingly curious as to what he’s about to show her. His gloved fingers unfurl to reveal an amulet of green jade and emerald, held together and strung up with curling lines of silver cord. The color of the emerald is intense and vibrant against the white of the snow and the earthen tones of his outfit. The girl gasps quietly as her eyes set upon the necklace. She looks from it, to his face, then back at it. Her hands rise preemptively, but she stops and looks up to the boy again. He smiles back at her and gives a nod.

Tiny hands reach up and take the necklace, admiring how the set gem and silver both catch the light of the winter sun. A soft noise of suppressed excitement escapes the girl before she throws her hands up and around the boy’s waist, pushing her face into his stomach.

Those days were best remembered as blue. Everything seemed simpler then, so much more simple than the dredge that she now lives every day of her life in. Those days before the chaos- no, the chaos had always been apart of her life, she had just been too young to understand it- things had been better when she had been so innocent and ignorant.

But that was the past.

She closes her eyes and gives a soft exhale.

He was greatly missed. Every day since his passing made harder to weather by his absence in her life. A single tear rolls down her left cheek.

Brother... I'm so sorry. I have killed you. I left you to rot.

Her mind was silent as she pondered for several long seconds. For me you died and so for you I shall live the rest of what has been allotted to me.

She continues to lay in that same catatonic state, her eyes closed and the wet stain of tear marks on her cheeks, until a servant pushes her door open. As the door swings open a column of yellow firelight is thrown across the length of her bed. She squints her closed eyes in slight annoyance before opening them to look at her servant.

"My lady, you have an audience awaiting you. They must hear your judgement."

The woman pulls her self upright in the bed, her skeletal fingers digging deeply into the mattress as she seems to wrestle herself into the correct position. The yellow light serves only to make her exposed skin look even more sickly as she reaches her right hand out to summon her servant to her in an implicit manner.

The servant girl moves quickly, helping the woman to get dressed. With a snap of the fingers, the servant girl is sent out, her job completed. The woman's thin hands reach forwards, gently cupping the pendant on the necklace before pulling it upwards off the display. Gently the jewelry is pulled around her neck.

She stands in a shaky fashion at first, but soon her legs are steady enough for her to make it to the doorway of her room. Periwinkle eyes stare down the long and imposing hallway. The day is too young to cast strong light in the corridor. Instead large open windows allow pale pre-sunrise light to bath the monolithic pillars who stand to bear the weight of the ceiling above.

As she walks along, she takes little notice of how the sheer white fabric hanging between the columns of her castle corridor looks as thin as gossamer spider silk woven in the still air. The dull grey palate of her world is only enforced by how the ashen smoke of burning incense stretches up into the sky as if reaching for heaven.

With surprising grace, she pushes a muted red curtain from the doorway and steps into her throne room. She pulls her robes along behind her, simple and effective, but elegant in the same stride. She gives a single nod to her scribe and makes a nearly unnoticeable motion with her left hand. With little to no issue she climbs the daunting twenty steps to her tall backed white limestone throne. It, like the furniture in her room, is fitted with large goose down pillows and curling silver inlays.

A single curtain is lifted from one far up window, allowing a dim beam of wan light to filter down through the varying coils of blue incense smoke. The light falls across the steps of her throne, but leaves most of her figure in shadow.

"Queen Ishikawa, your first audience of the day is with a peasant man by the name of Misako. He is challenging Nobleman Himana's ruling on the mine's work environment."

Without even a nod, she lifts her hand and swats it left. The gigantic wooden doors at the end of the football length chamber pull open smoothly, though no men could be seen moving them into position. Soon enough a dirty looking peasant man shuffles into the throne room. He holds his hands close to his chest, his shoulders hunched from years of grueling physical labour. He casts glances upwards and his already curled up form seems to stoop even further under the oppressive looming architecture. He hurriedly walks past the rows of white marble knight sculptures that stand a silent vigil.

The nobleman is nowhere to been seen, however.

At the foot of her throne, the peasant stops and gives a deep bow. He looks up and begins, "My Queen-"

"I didn't tell you to speak." Her strong voice resounds through the mostly empty chamber. "Rise."

His gaze instantly drops to the floor as he rises from his gesture of respect.

"Now you may speak."

"My good Queen, I come to you today to report cruel and desperate working conditions. Everyday Lord Himana has us working for ten hours, only allowing us short breaks for resting or eating. My lady we breathe in coal dust, our coughs filled with black phlegm. The heat underground is intense and the air foul. Our men lose fingers, hands and even entire arms to the dangerous contraptions and machines we are forced to use. My gracious Queen, please. I beseech you! Children are even made to work in these deadly environments. Please! Something must be done for us working folk..."

"You and your people work the mines at the edges of the Teichi Plains, S4CMa, correct? Your mine is the closest to the Byōtekina Mori. I am surprised that you did not speak more on the dangers of your mine's location. Why is that?"

"My most humble of Queens, I did not address that issue because I didn't see it as important."

"Ah. I see." She pauses for a moment, leaning her right arm on the arm rest of her throne. This action puts the thin fingers of her right hand into the light, allowing her emerald fitted ring to momentarily dazzle in the gleam. "Tell me, Misako-"

She ceases her speech as an ornately dressed man storms into her throne room. His black hair is slicked back and pulled into a long ponytail and his narrow eyes glare. She lifts her left hand and drums her fingers, her nails sending sharp rat-tat-tat-tats echoing through out the chamber. As the drumming of her fingers start, the sound of heavy rocks sliding soon follows. This man's face is flushed a deep red as he quickly steps towards her throne, his mouth is pulled into a nasty frown.

He is stopped suddenly, ten feet away from the first limestone step as silence falls through the room. A long white marble katana is pressed against the front of his throat. A single drop of crimson blood begins to bead up on the blade. He swallows and steps back, eyes widened in surprise. He looks to his side, only to see that one of the stone knights had lunged forward in order to stop him.

"Himana." Her voice rings out. She looks down her nose at him. "I trust you have good reason to interrupt my hearing in such a disrespectful way." The blade pushes just a small bit harder against his throat as she finishes her sentence.

"Qu-Queen Ishikawa!--" He takes a step back to relieve the pressure from the front of his neck. He raises his right hand to cover his new superficial wound. He casts his eyes down, trying to avoid her piercing stare. Even though he can't see her face, he can feel the weight of her gaze. The marble knight falls back into it's normal position. Himana is unable to find the nerve to speak until the sound of grating rock stops, leaving an unbearable silence to hang over them. "I meant no disrespect. I was simply flustered and annoyed."

"I also assume that you have an excuse for being late."

He casts a single glance up at her, trying to gauge her emotions, but shakes his head when he fails. "There is no excuse that is good enough to even begin to repair the dishonor I have brought upon myself so far this morning."

"Very well. Argue your case."

He coughs once, clearing his throat. "My fair Queen, the peasants and workers have become increasingly rebellious over the last few months. Due to their lack of productivity, their work shifts had to be extended in order to close to deficit."

"They say that they lose life and limb to dangerous equipment you have them handling."

"They are trained to use the rigs by the leader of their work shift. Mayhaps if so many workers didn't report into their jobs drunken from the night before-"

"Don't you blame this on us drinking! Maybe your machines should be safer!"

"-they wouldn't make such mistakes." He pauses to stare at Misako. "My lady, certainly you can see how it is not my fault for the coal miners' injuries."

After a quick moment her answer comes, "Misako, if your men are drunkenly operating machinery and being unproductive, how can you expect me to side with you? All Citizens of Shinkai Shigai know that productivity is one of the most highly valued traits."

"But ma'am... What of the children who work with us? Certainly they are not fit to bear such working conditions?"

"What parents send their children to do is none of my concern. I govern not what positions your shift leaders assign you or your peers to. I do not regulate the inner workings of your job. The climate of your work area may be hostile, but you choose what job you work." Her voice is curt, almost dismissive. "I suggest that you tell your lazy drunken peers to shape up, else they might not continue to enjoy Lord Himana's gracious ability to forgive."

Misako glares defiantly up at her with such intensity that the nobleman takes a step back. "How could you be so cruel to your own subjects while you lounge about in this huge palace? You are the face of hypocrisy."

"The law dictates that everyone of working age hold a job. That is why you have a job. Unlike you, my job isn't as simple as digging raw material out of the earth. Unlike your near sighted and inefficient peers my job revolves around achieving and maintaining a functional standing army, bringing in enough food so that the unpaid city officials and enforcers may be fed and taken care of. If we don't have those things, we lack security. Do you think every job is amazing and luxurious? Everything comes at a cost. You sift through rocks while I bear the weight of the entire country on my mind. Unlike you my work day never ends. I don't get days off to celebrate or play. I don't throw magnificent feasts for fat nobles. I will work my job until I die. I give you both leave to go."

The peasant makes to move forward a step, a movement that doesn't escape the eyes of the monarch. With those same familiar sounds of her nails drumming on her throne, a stone knight picks the man up around the torso and begins to march him out. The Nobleman is far wiser and excuses himself with a bow of his head and the rush of feet.

She takes the moment of silence to sink down into her chair, no longer having to hold up appearances of power of health. Still, most of her figure is hidden, swathed in shadowy darkness. As if waiting just out of sight, her arch-regent enters from the back left of the chamber. Seeming to sense him, she speaks up.

"Kaiyato. Have you woken Re'yoak up yet? That peddling dragon seems to be good for nothing sometimes." Her voice, though still strong in its sound, is far less authoritative and incredibly relaxed compared to her prior tone.

"No my lady, I have not woken him up yet. I will send for him as soon as I get done informing you of recent happenings." His voice is deep and rich, reverberating throughout the chamber in a way that makes her spine tingle. The green of his robes swashes into view as he steps into the beam of light. His kinky black hair is pulled back into a few large braids and hidden under a simple round hat.

She lets out a sigh, "I hope you've come to inform me of something remotely positive."

"Well, the crime rate has dropped again, and aside from S4CMa, production looks to be increasing."

"And what of your bad news?"

"My bad news, my Queen?" He questions.

"You always have some form of bad news."

He remains quiet for a moment, seeming to ponder how to continue. Soon enough, "The Kingdom of Horses amasses troops along our southern border. With the political tension as of late, we should see this as an act of impending war."

In her silence he continues in an extremely delicate manner. "The Horse King has made several threats referencing your state of health. He believes that in your current health, you are an easy target and this country is his for the taking."

"What rubbish. My health is not so far gone that I'll allow him to walk in and have a dance in my throne room. Prepare the army. Ready the blacksmiths the bowmakers and fletchers. I want my entire army ready to move in three weeks time. I will lead them out there and command them myself."

She moves to stand, pulling herself up and out of her throne when her vision goes black. She attempts to move but can not. Panicked, she looks around herself, only to be greeted by a smiling white figure. Its mouth doesn't move as it speaks directly into her head.

It resounds with the choir of a thousand voices inside her mind, informing her that it's name is Omni, and this new place is called the Omniverse. It told her that she had managed to interest it, and as thus she deserved a place in this realm that reflects the wishes of those ensnared within it. It holds it's hand out, showing her a glob of a strange metallic yet rainbow liquid.

With little warning, the being before her pushes the so called Omnilium orb into her hands. It then went on to inform her that this was the very thing that tied the Omniverse together, the very fabric of existence. With it could come anything, but without it there could be nothing. It speaks out again, telling her that there are others like her, other beings summoned into this new realm.

Do not fear death. For as long as you interest me, you will be reborn.

It bids her an ominous farewell as her vision lightens. No longer does she stand in her colossal throne room shrouded in moody shadows and comforted by the snaking tendrils of her favorite incenses. This place is white, but in a different sense.

This new strange land is sterile looking, and before her stands a large fountain.

Frightened, she darts her eyes around, trying to find anything else in the whiteness of it all. Her senses scream at her, informing her of a thousand things at once. Things she has never known, like her mind and reflexes have been dialed forward. She drops to her knees and clutches at her head sobbing as a year of sickness is torn away and reversed. Her body feels as though it is covered in prickling needles, sharp little electric jolts pulsing along her nerves as she falls back onto the ground. Her eyes close and open, each time she is made acutely aware that her detection has sharply increased. Her muscles tense and relax as they become stronger, and within her she feels a flood of magical prowess inundate her spiritual existence.

She lets out a scream as this all over takes her and she retreats into her mind, holding on to anything that gave her hope of escaping this sensory overload. Anything to escape the stress.

Sagishi please protect me! She cries to herself. She pulls up memory after memory of him, desiring nothing more than his gentle touch and his quiet reassuring voice.

She was unsure of how long she had laid, curled up on the stark white floor, sobbing to herself about how much she wanted him back.

But she is jerked out of her breakdown by a gentle hand. She pushes away from the touch, shoving herself off the ground so she can look at the offender sitting cross-legged beside her.

White-blonde hair.

Bright green gentle eyes.

Ever so slightly pointed ears.

Full lips.

Straight nose.

High cheek bones.

"Why are you crying Himitsu?"


. . .


"Sagishi?" Her voice trembles in shock. His voice is exactly how she remembers it. His face, his hair... Everything about him is exactly how she remembers him. She reaches her left hand out, she has to make certain that he is real, not just some cruel conjuration. Her thin fingers gently touch his face as he makes an expression of utter confusion.

"You are real..."

"Well yes, of course I'm real silly."

"I don't... I... You were... How?!"

"I've always been here for you Himi... I never left."

"You don't remember, do you?"

"I don't remember what?"

"But that doesn't matter now! All that matters is that- that I'm here with you." So I have died. She wraps her arms around his neck and embraces him as tightly as she can. He returns the gesture, laughing softly. I didn't know if Heaven was real or not, but I always hoped... Just for you.

After a long moment she breaks the hug. "Sagishi, where are we?"

"I don't know." He admits.

With a new found energy, she pushes up from the ground and stands. "Come'on. I want to explore around and see if we can get any information about this place."

With no hesitation he stands and follows her as she begins walking southwards, towards a large and menacing gate made out of jeering spikes.

"You know, I've really missed you."

"I don't see why you would. I never left you, even though you look different then the last time I saw you."

"Sagishi... You died protecting me when I was fifteen. I'm twenty-six now."

"Wait, what? You're... That doesn't make sense. How am I here then? I'm obviously alive. I couldn't just forget eleven years of your life." His tone is increasingly incredulous.

"I've been thinking about that. I... I got sick after you died. I think I died. I think this is the afterlife. It only makes sense after all."

"You got sick? How did you get sick? How did I die?"

"You... You took a bullet for me. You got shot in the head by a sniper while protecting me. You were twenty when it happened. It was the first snow of the winter and I was so excited. I remember I threw open the doors to my balcony so we could stand out and watch the snow. I... I guess they took that opening."

"Oh..."

"After you died, I stopped functioning. I laid in my bed for months and months until one day a firm resolve took my mind over. I got up, supported myself with magic and killed my mother and her supporters. I took the throne for myself then used those resources to track down every member of that assassin organisation and kill them, and their families. In one of my final battles I got pinned down and one of them bled into one of my open wounds. I guess that's how I got sick. It was something that no amount of herbal medicines or healing magic could cure me of, and it plagued me until my final day."

Sagishi had stopped a moment ago, turning to look at her as she talked about her past. When she notices she turns to glance at him. "Himitsu..."

"Wha-"

She is cut off as he pulls her close to him by her hand and hugs her close, his right forearm across her upper back and his left forearm cradling her head against his chest. She lets her arms hang limply by her sides. "I'm so sorry. I killed you. I left you to rot. I should have stayed around longer to protect you."

"Shamgehsi," she starts into his tan tunic, "Ich naawt yuer fauwl."

"But it was my duty to protect you..."

"Amsh yuh did oi greet jerbb."

"I can't understand you Himi."

"Lessgo uf my fasch."

"What?"

"LEGGO UFF MY FAACHE YUH BUERNHERD."

"Oh!" He says as he lets her go. He smiles at her and she gives an indignant smile back at him.

"Thanks you dweeb." She says as she runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to fix it.

"Hey, come'on. Let's keep walking."

I'm also Negi Springfield and this is my second character.



Character name: Clare

Character source: Claymore

Character history (spoilers): http://claymore.wikia.com/wiki/Clare#Biography
Some definitions:
Claymores - warriors, part of the Organization, trained to fight the Yoma. Feared by normal people for their deadly skill.
Organization - a group that creates Claymores and commands them.
Yoma - monstrous creatures with the ability to assume the guise of a person that prey on humans.
yoki - the energy of a Yoma. Claymores also possess this to a lesser degree as they are part Yoma and can manipulate it in various ways.
Awakening - as Claymores are part Yoma, there is a risk that they lose control and become monsters as well. The risk increases with the increased use of Yoki.
Awakened Being - Claymores who lose control and turn into monsters. Significantly more powerful than normal Yoma.

When Clare was a child, her village was attacked by a Yoma, killing her family and almost her as well before a Claymore killed the Yoma. However, Clare was kidnapped by another Yoma soon afterwards, who used her to pose as a family and blend in. Once again, Clare was saved by a Claymore, Teresa. Clare tried to follow Teresa through the wilderness, and while Teresa initially refused, she eventually relented. Still, a roaming warrior does not make a good parent, and knowing this, Teresa left Clare with adoptive parents as soon as possible.

Some people are not destined for a peaceful life, as was the case with Clare. The village Clare was dropped off in was attacked by bandits almost immediately after Teresa left. Seeing the bandits on their way to village, Teresa turned back, killing the bandits and saving Clare again. However, by doing so, she marked herself for execution, as it was illegal for Claymores to kill a human. Clare and Teresa went into hiding, but were hunted down by the second through fifth strongest Claymores in the land. Teresa, being the strongest Claymore, easily defeats them, but is beheaded after being tricked by Priscilla. Due to the battle, Priscilla awakens, and she chose to ignore Clare, running off into the distance. After Priscilla left, Clare took Teresa's head with her to the Organization, and demanded to become a Claymore to avenge Teresa.

Clare became a Claymore, but she was the weakest in the Organization, as she was only a quarter Yoma while all of the other Claymores were half Yoma. Over time, she becomes friends with some others, and they began to suspect that the Organization had a darker, hidden agenda. Their suspicions were confirmed when they were sent into a suicide mission in the North. They pretended to have died in the combat, and hid in the mountains, training themselves for an eventual attack on the Organization.

Eventually, the other Claymores also turned on the Organization, leading to its downfall, and Clare headed to face off against Priscilla, who had grown even more powerful since she had last been seen. During the fight, Clare is severely outmatched, and is near death before she faded into a white light.


Physical Description: Clare is of medium height (170 cm) and appears fairly thin, belying her strength. Her eyes are naturally green, but appear silver due to the yoki in her body. She bears a large vertical scar on the front of her body.

Stats:
ATK: 3
DEF: 2
SPD: 1
TEC: 4

Starting Proficiencies: Physical Strength (1000 OM)

Starting Powers: Enhanced Senses - Basic (1400 OM), Foresight (1500 OM)

Starting Moves:
Claymore (300 OM) - Requires Physical Strength
A large two-sided sword, with a blade nearly four feet long, which is extremely sharp and durable. On both sides of the blade, about six inches above the guard, is the wielder's personal symbol. The handle is about a foot long and the grip is red. The pommel of the sword is somewhat sharpened. Though the sword is meant to be wielded two-handed due to its size and weight, Clare's strength allows her to wield it with one hand. When the blade is not wielded, it is sheathed behind her back.

Windcutter (300 OM) - Requires Physical Strength
A lightning fast slashing attack, similar to iaijutsu. The wielder quickly draws, swings, and resheathes the sword in the blink of an eye. Though the attack is relatively weak, it is fairly accurate.

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

Not sure if it was already addressed and I thought it was important to make sure people know. 

If you write on the website and you typically save drafts, then stop. Saving drafts on the site will exhaust your rest points as if you posted, but you get no OM from it.
 
Please, for the time being, use another word program to write your posts. I'm not sure if it is on all accounts or just some, we'll figure it out, but just to be safe, don't safe drafts to the site.

So I found something in my research to fit the Infinity Stones into the OV...

Quote:The Scorched Grove - A few miles from the Nexus gate lays about a half square mile of forest burned down as a part of large fire from earlier in the year.  The cause of the fire is unknown, although accounts link it with a small group of travelers attempting to combat the effects of the Blight.  While efforts to restore the forest have been launched, they are slow and not many parties outside the Green are willing to exhaust the resources.

Quote:The cause of the fire is unknown...

Character name: Bear

Character source: D&D inspired OC

Character history: Bear is the last son of a mighty tribe of barbarian Hunters. Born to the tribe's wisewoman and one of its prominate braves, Bear was destined for greatness in the eyes of his people. All was well, Until one day he returned to his village from a solo hunt to find his people gone. He quested for years looking for his people and met many others, both friend and foe, but could not find his people. Now he finds himself in the Omniverse. His quest continues.

Physical Description: At 6'11" and weighing 250ish lbs, Bear is a giant of a man with shaggy hair and an unkempt beard. His clothing is simple and unarmored, made of rough cloth that can stand the hard life of a wild man. His alternate form is that of a grizzly bear. Roughly the same height and strength as his humanoid form, his bear form is easily more than twice the weight and much tougher though also much slower.

Starting Stats:
ATK:4/4
DEF:3/5
SPD:2/0
TEC:1/1

Starting Proficiencies: Physical Strength 1000 (1000)

Starting Powers: Alternate Form - Bear 2000 (2000)

Starting Moves:  Bear-Tooth 300, Bear Claw 300 (600)


Bear-Tooth - (requires: Physical Strength) - Bear-Tooth is Bear's favored weapon. It is a simple 2'6" ft wooden pole attached to a heavy axe blade. Because of his size Bear wields the axe one-handed with ease, however most would find it difficult to swing without both hands.  


Bear Claws - (requires: Physical Strength) - When Bear takes on his alternate form his weapons and clothes meld with him. His new form does, however, sports a wonderful pair of bear claws with which to rip his enemies apart.  


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

Alternate Character for Thor

The process of entering the city had turned out to be simple enough. The two storm-trooper guards ushered Kelly through the gate from the Nexus with only a brief welcome-to-Coruscant-please-proceed-to-customs-for-processing. After that it had just been a matter of waiting in line to be scanned and ID'd, which had given him time to plan his approach to PepsiCo. He would have to summon himself something nicer to wear, for one.
He'd given the Alan Mayhew alias, making a mental note that he would now have to use it whenever he dealt with Empire officials in any capacity, stated his reason for coming to the city as 'business', and been officially welcomed to Coruscant, Tier One.

With a gasp Damien jolted up into a sitting position. His hand immediately went to his chest looking for the wound that had pierced his heart, killing him instantly. Except nothing was there. Instead he found a small totem. Taking the totem into his hand he was surprised to see it was the Khushu Idol he had drawn his magical abilities from

"Kanjigar Septum Vohostrum" he mumbled, the words he repeated thousands of times to recharge batteries as he would say. The idol glowed weakly for a moment, dissipating as quickly as it had activated. 

"Figures" he muttered bitterly.

Looking around Damien found himself in a place he didn't recognize. The floors were the purest ivory he had ever seen. Laying next to him was a sword, the hilt in the shape of a dragon's head. 

"Hello old friend" he said picking the sword up and using it as a crutch to push him to his feet. The sword had been given to him by Ra's Al Ghul, the original Ra's, not that fool of a man Merlyn who tried to live up to his old master's name. It's name was Souleater, appropriate considering how Damien would gain his later from the Khushu idol.

Still disoriented, Damien stumbled back words, bumping into the object he had been laying next to. Fear rose in his chest at  seeing what was in front of him, instictively herose his hand up, readying for the ensuing attack. Damien's heart began to calm as he looked on at the fountain standing proudly in front of him. The fountain depicted a hooded archer, his bow at the ready with an arrow already notched, waiting to be set free to find it's mark. The tip of the arrow poured water out lazily. Standing in front of him was the man that had killed him. The Green Arrow. Or Oliver Queen as he later learned in the time he had spent in Star city.

"Is this some kind of cosmic joke? Even in the strange version of my afterlife this man is still worshiped?" Damien spat. He raised his hand clenching his fist in the air. The motion caused the head of the stone fountain to crumble to dust, the noise echoed in the emptiness of the Nexus. 

The fountain reformed before his eyes, changing into a normal drinking fountain one that you'd find in any public park. Water spewed from the tap, as if some invisible force was pushing the button to release the refreshing water. 

Damien was impressed by the innate magical energy surrounding the fountain, even more so that he was able to use his own abilities without the need of a sacrifice to feed the idol. 

"Very curious," Damien mused as he inspected his outstretched hand. "This must be some be some strange hell I've found my self in. Or perhaps a dream" he said, trying to console himself in his current dreadful circumstance. 

"It is neither" a booming voice echoed as a blinding light appeared, causing Damien to cover his eyes. A large faceless man appeared in front of him, smiling childishly. It began to speak.

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 once so listen carefully.

Quote:This is Omnillium, It's what ties the Omniverse together. Without it, you are nothing. With it, anything you desire can be your. But you will need more then 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

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

Quote:That's all you need to know right now. You'll figure out the rest soon enough. I'll be watching... And waiting.