So not been here in a while, not exactly sure how long now. Decided I would check in and say hello to everyone on the site , the people I know and the new members. So what has been happening? I have kept in touch with a few members from the site but am curious to see how many people are still around.

In the Secondary Saga II, I'm going to join as Ori from Ori and the Blind Forest.

They (Ori's gender is up to the player) can triple jump, which means they can jump one time off the ground and two times in the air.

Would Super Jumping cover this? Or is this something different?

So I don't know if this allowed or not but if I have a move (and fusing) Could I fuse with Flowey who is a secondary I use (same rules apply as normal fusing) So if a Mod could clear this up for me that would be lovely

I have a idea flowing through my mind but I'm trying to think of how to make it work here.

Does booby-trapping a base to the extreme require any upgrade purchases?

So where in the rules does it say that images in posts are specifically only to be done in the Dataverse? I've been looking through to see to be certain of where exactly it says that. I haven't been able to find it yet. Also on a related note, if an image in a post was showing what a person's base looked like, are you allowed to add text to replace it, if it was removed?

Upon review of the rules I've found the image thing.  But my second question still stands. Since the visual description of Sombra's castle was removed from the topic where it was made, is adding a wall of text describing it to the post where he finished constructing the castle allowed or not? In addition to that, is a castle allowed to have multiple traps and nasty little surprises in it, or not?

"M-my eyes hurt a bit..."

From the Nexus (yes, that's what the white world was called) to the Tangled Green was a simple enough trip: cross the portal. Now that Creatia had left the area, she was starting to get used to the natural lighting again. "Ugh..." She rubbed her eyes and squinted, just in time to see the mahogany bark before she smacked into it. "Ow...!" ...Now that's two things to soothe... Taking the time to stop, relax her eyes, and tend to her minor aches, she got a better view of the area past the large tree.

Nature. Nothing but grasses following the wisps of the winds and trees shading the entangled flora that grew without much interferance. A few buildings far off in the distance were laced with ivy. It was green everywhere, like emeralds in the sun. Creatia awed at the lush new pastures she had found herself in. Her luck seemed to be in her favor; she adored areas like this. As she moved past the tree, more of the forest came into view... And she frowned. Not too far off from the field of trees were barren lands, smoke rising from the very tops of the burnt dirt piles. Gnarled and ashen trunks dotted the blackened wastelands. The stark contrast of the lifeless remains next to the groves of vibrant life hurt her a little.; it reminded her of her old home. And yet that was far off in the past. She was in a new world, a new place. I... Just have to think of it like going on a new mission...

She was still lost however. She needed to know what this place was, if there were cities or towns nearby, or if there was at least some safe haven to take shelter in for the while. Her eyes felt much better after taking a better look at her surroundings, yet her head still hurt a bit. Shrugging it off, she began her walk down a well-beaten pathway. After an estimated thirty minutes of walking, she passed by a group of elves making their way past her towards the burned down area she viewed a while ago. A few were carrying supplies; two were dragging a cart along filled with bags of seed. One was giving directions to a few stragglers in the procession. Natives! They might know where I am.

Approaching them with her usual shy demeanor, she cleared her throat. "U-uhm, excuse me..." she started.

The elf giving orders stopped, tilting his glasses against the bridge of his upturned nose. "Another volunteer?" He mused towards Creatia. Wrapped in green robes that were cinched by a white belt, he had the same sinewy build as the others. He was a rather tall one compared to the rest, towering over the witch's frame with ease. His intense red eyes studied her with scrutiny. "You're a frail one, though..." he noted, brushing a blond strand of hair behind his pointed ear, "But we need all the help we can get!"

"W-wait, that's not what-" she was interrupted with a stack of books being dropped into her hands. "Whoa!" Stumbling against her swaying ankles and shifting feet, she puffed up her cheeks as she made a halfway decent attempt at keeping her balance.

"Come now, we can't keep Miss Melody waiting. She needs these supplies delivered by afternoon's start!" Grabbing Creatia's arm, he led the confused magus along with him. Some of the other elves were already chuckling at their newest 'volunteer's' attempt to keep up with their leader's stride.

"Looks like Michael's hooked another one..."

"Poor girl, she never stood a chance."

From the portal, he was ejected into an appalling, sweltering hell. The sun glared down its ultraviolet punishment upon the magister’s flesh from above while stinging, salty air fettered his eyes and mouth from below.
 
His cloak, like an oven, seemed to concentrate and magnify the already oppressive heat and dampness, and didn’t do him any favors in keeping a low profile.
 
All around him, people dressed for the beach. Thin shirts or no shirts, short pants, bikinis, and other clothing designed to be flattering (or, as Magus was dismayed to realize, quite unflattering on certain people).
 
They gawked at him like he was some kind of drooling moron, standing there in his thick, heavy clothing. Admittedly, he felt a bit of the fool dressed as he was, and loathing every sticky, sweaty second of it.
 
Magus hefted the cloak over his head and let the heavy, scarlet cloth fumble to the ground, leaving him in only a sleeveless top, his pallid gray arms exposed to the glaring rays.
 
He stood on a gleaming concrete pathway which snaked between two lush, vibrant gardens, full of exotic and brightly-colored tropical flora. Past this, a bustling boardwalk abuzz with people stretched out up and down the beach at its back, and the vast, shimmering sea beyond.
 
The boardwalk itself was full of buildings crammed into the beautiful beachfront, turning an idyllic scene into a chaotic mess. Oddly shaped and all crowding onto one another, they resembled teeth in a mouth too small to accommodate them all.
 
The Fiendlord indulged in a haughty, dissatisfied scoff. He’d arguably ruined a landscape of his own by putting a huge, imposing castle on it, but at least his aesthetic was uniform. Bloody commoners and their incessant desire to make their mark; as if anyone would remember them – or care – twenty years after they’d gone.
 
As if a fucking coat of paint was going to make anyone take notice of them.
 
Magus observed a number of heavily-armored soldiers – robots, maybe – patrolling along the boardwalk. They wore polished, white composite armor and carried matching rifles. He then spotted actual, metal robots marching along, armed with similar weaponry, and concluded that the white-armored ones must have been flesh and blood beneath their clothing.
 
So, this was a martial town. Magus would do well to keep his head down and out of sight. That was a problem; as a tall, pale, purple-haired man with scarlet eyes, he was probably not going to do a good job of remaining inconspicuous for long.
 
This place wasn’t like Camelot, he reasoned. Too advanced. If his notoriety had spread through that realm, it was unlikely that it had spread this far. The people were simply too different. Even if he did stand out, it wouldn’t matter so long as he got what he needed and was gone before he ruffled anyone’s feathers.
 
The only person he wanted to aggravate was beyond the Void, after all.
 
That goal, finally tantalizingly in reach. Somewhere out there, accessed from somewhere in this tropical paradise, was the path he’d been looking for, the path he’d been walking since he arrived in the Omniverse.
 
Magus walked the path through the garden to the boardwalk, and turned toward the small cityscape he could see rising to the west. He followed a road which swept up in a curve, running parallel with the beach which ran in an identical curl, toward a great port, studded with an array of mismatched ships – an enormous, modern cargo ship sat in harbor alongside old sailing ships with cannons lining the sides.
 
Small airborne transports hummed along overhead, flying toward the core of the city, which, like the docks, was itself was a juxtaposition of old and new. Ornate, stone buildings and brick houses shared space with dazzling metal towers. Stone walls and cobblestone paths snaked through neighborhoods while neon lights and electronic video billboards splashed across projectors suspended above the earth along designated air travel corridors.
 
Magus smudged a gloved hand along his brow, wiping the sweat from his eyes. So hot. He screwed his face into a sour expression and plodded on toward the city. He searched for a tavern of some sort to get out of this miserable heat. If they’d mastered air travel here, they’d better have figured out air conditioning.
 

The battle, for Grothnar, was almost over. But there was still one more to deal with - the leader. Approaching, the Dwarf holds his axe in both hands. The weapon has blood spots on it from the bandit's fallen friends, but otherwise retains it's steel, metallic shine.

"D'you want to surrender, or are ya' ready to say goodbye?" the Dwarf asks. The voice of the Bloodlust Ring speaks in his mind again: 

Give him no mercy. Give none of them mercy.

He ignores it, waiting to see the leader's response - which turns out to be in the form of a pair of daggers, swinging for his throat. Diving to the ground, the dwarf drops his weapon, and gets back up. Noting his weapon on the ground, he goes to swipe it, before being met with a boot to the head from the thief. In anger, he charges the legs of his taller opponent, sending him to the ground. He then swipes his axe again.

"Ya've made yer' choice." the Ironfist warrior states, gripping his hands tight around his double bladed weapon. He charges, letting out a battle-cry. The knife-wielding rogue performs a similar charge. Bringing the battle-axe down, the dwarf manages to hit the thief's foot...

But fails to notice the knives, which make their mark in a killing blow.

Dropping his weapon, the dwarf clutches his chest, feeling the wound. How did this one thief, an untrained crook, manage to fell a professional warrior trained among the top of his clan? He slowly falls back, his vision going dark as death consumes him.

***

He awakens to a voice he's never heard before, in a world of pitch blackness. A white-skinned figure stands before him with a grin, seemingly being the one talking.

Quote:“My name is Omni. This is not the world you know. This is the Omniverse."

Quote:"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.” 

Quote: “This 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."

Quote:“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."

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

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