Her face. Frozen. Mid-scream.

But this time her jaw was free, and her chords ascended freely, carrying over the hollow room and beyond. Heads spun across the canvas world, to see a woman clutching desperately at her neck as she collapsed to the ground. Behind her, the fountain, once marble, hovered over her like a black looming shadow. Jagged teeth sprouted from its strange angles and the blonde's fingers clawed at the contrastingly pearl ground which would not give way. Her forehead brushed the smooth floor, she had bowed down as though praying, but in any world where her sister could be taken for "entertainment" and approved by God was no world she would accept, and no "God" she would ever declare loyalty to. Her sister had already been taken from her once, now, what would happen next?

She would rise. 

It was as simple as that. And the mocking callous laughter of Karl echoed in her ears, behind her eyelids she was flooded with the crescent smile of the eyeless being who always watched. His purpose meant nothing to her, neither of them. She would rise, if only to spit on their graves. If only, to prove them wrong.

Christa felt the sensation of air caress her esophagus and happily accepted the breath as it washed out the lingering taste of iron on her tongue, "Ugh," the weary prime muttered as her shoulders straightened and her bent leg dug into the ground, forcing herself upward with an unstable lurch. A hand met the base of her back as her weary eyes gazed outward. The pain in her neck, striking once, had left. Lightning speed of a quick death had struck her once again. She shuddered and flexed her stiff digits. Once they had been smothered in fresh and dried blood, now, they lacked any smut caked on, her pale skin was here once more, ready to write the moments again, and ready, always, to draw fresh blood. Christa wavered and used the black fountain for support as she checked to see if her toes were still there. Then the familiarly empty room. 

"Miss, miss, are you alright?" A voice flittered in her ear.

"You took quite a fall there," another voice echoed.

"Can I get you a glass of water?" a man asked.

"Do you need any medical attention?" a final, superior voice offered.

Christa drew back her lips, ready to snarl for space when she saw two storm trooper helmets inches from her face. She could've even screamed again, or pulled out her knife and sliced every chink in their armor. Then she remembered her place. And theirs. 

"No. No, I'm all set, thank you," mere words. All of them. What drove theirs? Ambition? False kindness to compensate for the torture they had caused another the prior weekend? Her own. What for? They fell from her open jaws, disgusting her, the prime flinched even as she spoke them. 

What she was last doing was a bit hazy, but she had the distinctive desire lit in her to set the world aflame. And Katia, oh, her sister's kind and lovely face. There would be Hell to pay, and so much fucking more.

Ash wakes up from the same rooster that crowed at dawn and still is drowsy a bit. He gets ready putting his shirt on and fixes his hair then goes to the dinner room for breakfast. John and Gus were sitting there having their usual coffee before breakfast then noticed Ash at the door way. "Morning Ash. You rest better from yesterday?" asked John looking at Ash. The evil dead slayer sits down with them and answers "Yeah, I feel good after a little chainsaw and boomstick action." The men chuckled a bit and continue to drink their coffee. "Hey John, I was wondering if today you can take me to Darkshire?" questioned Ash which surprised John from what he just said. "Well, I guess I could since you did have our backs yesterday. If you weren't there, me and Gus here might not made it back home alive." said John smiling from Ash helping them out.

Breakfast is ready and the family starts chowing down on the homemade meals. They talk about what jobs have to be done today around the ranch and John states that he is leaving to give Ash a ride to Darkshire. "Leaving already Ash? We do like having you around here." said Shirley with a welcoming smile. "Aw. Your already leaving soon." said Thomas in disappointment about Ash's departure. "This isn't going to be the last goodbye. I'll come back and help everyone with the ranch. I can't tell when that's going to be but I won't forget you guys bringing me into your home instead of leaving me out there to fight for survival." said Ash finishing up his breakfast then looking at everyone.

"Well, I will say that you aren't a bad prime in what you did yesterday." said Gus actually giving sympathy to Ash. "From our travel, it might take me a half of the day to go to Darkshire then get back." stated John looking at his wife. They all agreed about today and got finished with breakfast. Most of the family started working on what they need to do today while Ash and John get the wagon set for the day. The sun rises over the farm and the weather was still about the same as yesterday's. John puts survival gear on the wagon and some weapons just in case if something would happen to them on their travel. They mount the horse with the wagon and climb on then sets off down the road.

Shirley watches from the porch at both of them going away and is worried about John's safety but knows that he is safe with Ash. They rode away from the ranch and are now in the dark forest. "By the way, why do you want to go to Darkshire?" questioned John trying to start a conversation. "Because after what you said yesterday hit me and gotten a little inspiration from your son." said Ash having his focus on the road. "Yeah, I was a bit worried that you wouldn't leave the ranch which isn't a bad thi- wait what?" responded John then was concerned what Ash just said. "John, your son wants to be a hero and try to do something about the Pale Moors at least and doesn't want to be a farmer for the rest of his life." continued Ash about his son. "Dammit, I knew I shouldn't told him about me in the old days." said John with discouragement on his face.

"What you don't want your son to do what you did?" questioned Ash about John's concern. "Ash, remember what I said about myself yesterday? I don't want my children to go through what I did. I do like that he wants to do more but...I don't want my son to die from Dracula's work like my pals did on the line." said John worried about his son. "Don't you remember what you said yesterday to me? You can't deny your destiny. Listen sometime when you get back to the ranch, you and Shirley should talk to him about it." responded Ash looking back at John. "Maybe we will then..." said John thinking about it. They continue down the road and hit a fork in the road which has a scratched sign showing directions involving Darkshire being on the left path and Silent Hill being on the other. Ash and John go on the left path towards Darkshire without any stopping.

Just wondering. FATE is a tabletop RPG system that I'd find easier to play online because here we already have a community of dedicated RPers.

Character name: Spectator

Character source: Original character. Abberation city, A city overun by the apocalypse.


Physical Description: A pale looking man standing at around 180 cm and dark hair that has grown unevenly over the years, his pupils are yellow and it is how mutants and zombies are distinguished in his home world. He looks more like a survivor than a zombie from afar and wears cargo pants and a thick winter jacket. (originals only)


Character history: Spectator was born when he as a zombie among the hordes gained consciousness of his own fate. His home world is a desolate city that has suffered nuclear war and a zombie outbreak. Mutants roam the surface along with zombies, raiders and the unknown. The only safe place are underground tunnels that have been there for millenia, only mutants are smart enough to get down there but they are usually weak without a leader. Spec named himself spectator because he felt like one. He was no leader or fighter yet his senses always commanded more flesh and primal rage. He instead became a mutant hunter, going after similar kins of his own. Because of his extremely unbalanced eye sight, hearing and smell he is able to see bacteria, cells and atoms or atleast he can see patterns in dead and alive things and that is how he has got past his own infection. He does not know why or how he is able to still think seeing as most of his own cells are dead but when he first met a human that he kept alive, the human was happy to give information about a project Z that had kept zombies as experiments. Many mutants came from that project and Spec might have been one of them. It is possible that spec might not be completly made out of flesh but he did not give much thought to his fate. While an intelligent zombie he still can be easily mistaken for a mindless undead. He spent many years in his home city hunting and searching for more information about his past and when it finally came to a nuclear winter he finally gave up trying to find more answers, instead searching for underground cities. He did not find any answers but one day he fell asleep for probably the first time and woke up in the omniverse...


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

(4700)
Starting Proficiencies:
(1000) Physical strength

Starting Powers:
(1400)Basic enhanced senses
(2000)Survival


Moves: (300)Maced pipe Wrench: A tool made into a weapon through reinforced metal parts. It is a grey wrench and it looks like a mace with spiked metal parts but with smaller spikes around the mechanical area of the tool, it still is usable as a tool. Metal wire has been rolled around right under the head of the tool aswell. It is around 24 inches long

Transformation: none

Super moves: none



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

Where did you find us?: toprpsites.com

Edited away some skills to keep it at 5000 OM.

So, at the current point, the direction I'm taking Mick Rory prevents me from using Leonard Snart or the Cold Gun. Could I get a full refund for the Cold Gun? I have it purchased, but have done literally nothing with it.

I am trying to see who would be interested in doing a secondary saga similar to one that was done some time ago , the mission is simple . To meet Omni and become Npc Primes .

The challenge would not be easy and I would need some help bringing it together , but this is to see who might be interested in joining .

Frisk twiddled her thumbs, legs swinging from the seat of the chair. She was holding a cup of hot chocolate. She was in one of the many food facilities. 

The Vision opened the door. 

“I am afraid we have no cinnamon or butterscotch pie,” the Vision reported, “let alone a cinnamon-butterscotch pie. But Mr. Jarvis says the cooking staff can start experimenting with recipes.”

“It’s alright,” Frisk muttered.

The Vision sat down at a seat opposite Frisk. His feet were exactly parallel, his back straight, and his hands symmetrically placed on the table between them. 

“Let us begin,” he said.

His left eye began to whir, a dim blue light fading deep inside the iris.

> record[visual=True, audio=True]

The Vision smiled.

“Let’s start with your name.”

Character name: Leonard Snart/Captain Cold
 
Character source: DC's Legends of Tomorrow/The Flash television programs
 
Character history: Born to a bank robbing father who abused his mother, him and his sister, Snart eventually broke ties with his deadbeat dad but followed him into the same career. He eventually came across The Flash and through that interaction, got access to the Cold Gun. He's been robbing ranks and traveling through time ever since. This particular  version of Snart appeared in the Omniverse immediately after "dying" in a particular way.
 
 Stats:
 ATK: 2
 DEF: 3
 SPD: 1
 TEC: 4
 
Starting Proficiencies: Ranged (1000), Debuff (1000)
 
Starting Powers: Insight (1600)
 
Starting Moves: Cold Gun (300)
 
 I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct.
 
 Where did you find us? Through Greg and Alex, many moons ago.

Samus has a look of calm collection as she exits from the Nexus gate. She places a hand on either side of her helmet, begins to lift … and then returns her arms to her side.

Stepping from the standing stones that enclose the gate, she sees the orange sun drifting westward. It was night when she last left Camelot. Perhaps it has been less than a day since she snuck away to observe the fight at the Nexus. Perhaps longer. She wastes no time in heading to her ship.

It’s where she left it, hidden a small ways away from the gate in a small alcove. She checks it. There are no signs of any intrusion. She kicks her legs off the ground, twitching her feet just enough to boost herself up to the roof of the ship, before descending through the roof-hatch into the ship’s cramped cabin compartment. She reaches a hand towards the controls.

She stops.

A moment later she touches a hand to the side of her visor. It shines blue and begins to emit a ray of light that sweeps across the interior of her ship, permeating through the reflective surfaces. Her gaze casts downward, into the ship’s belly.

And then in one fluid motion, she spins around the captain’s chair into the exit compartment, her suit tightening into an organic blue appearance. The hatch opens and she leaps out into the sky as her suit continues changing, speeding upwards. She lands some distance away as the ship explodes.

Her visor captures the full blinding light of the white explosion and she shields herself from the tiny bits of shrapnel that burn her suit. There’s no time to take stock.

The Stalker is behind her.

A blast of blue light engages the Hunter as she dives to her left, turning and shooting as she lands. The Stalker tumbles in turn to shoot; Samus strafes and tracks her shot, landing a couple of trifling explosions on her adversary’s monstrous form. In retaliation the Stalker charges up a shot, the light at the end of its cannon swelling from pebble to shotput in a half-second. Samus grits her teeth and responds in kind.

The two blasts collide in the matter of meters between them, and the light elicited grants them each a moment to reposition. Samus takes her stand behind some rocks, holding her gun arm aside to charge. The Stalker takes the high ground, its head and cannon poking out from an observing cliff edge.

As the light fades, Samus spies her opponent and lets her shot loose. In the moment it takes the Stalker to dodge and respond, Samus has vanished beneath the low rocks. The Stalker flares her arms in rage as her body lights up. Myriad missiles begin to form themselves upon the wretched suit – the shoulders, the kneecaps, the waist, its sternum – and as they do they begin to fire themselves outward in an awkward arc, blue lights tracing their rise and their fall.

A small blue ball less than a metre in diameter boosts from the exploding wreckage. The light within the sphere emerges into Samus Aran, who tumbles, hitting the ground and rolling to a stop.

She stands and meets the eyes of her opponent. In Coruscant’s bowels, it had been difficult to get a good look at the Stalker. She now sees why. Its armour is an inky silver, almost black, that seems to absorb the light. It moves forward upon two-clawed boots with an animalistic gait; the top half of its body is slightly hunched towards its prey.

“What are you.” Samus demands, her voice bare of intonation.

There will be an sosv meeting held in 9/2/16 time 5:00 pm, all members use this thread for attendance.