While within his mind, she absorbed as much information as she possibly could from the young man. His name? Demetri. His thoughts on her? Obvious, he was captivated, almost focusing entirely on her and her existence alone, wanting to hold her even closer to himself. This fact made it hard to gleam much from him, as she hardly felt like trying to worm her why into his sanctum. His relation to his suit, or rather the AI in his suit's programming was also on the foremost front of his mind, as he was actively attempting to ignore it. She could glimpse that he held the machination in a rather fond and endearing light, like an old friend. How long he had had the suit, she didn't care enough to try to find out.

But then the AI's voice became hard to ignore, and she felt him tear himself away from her gaze, her face, her understandably amazing charm. She too withdrew from his head, not being invested enough to want to stay within his skull when more important, even life threatening, events began to surround then.

"CREATOR STOP GAWKING AT THE FEMALE IN FRONT OF YOU AND GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME WE LITERALLY HAVE NO CHANCE AT SURVIVING IF WE STAY HERE WE NEED TO GOOOOOOOOOO!"


The mechanical speakers of the suit's AI seemed to begin screeching. The simple shrill resonance of the AI's voice put Ezzy on edge. She hated hearing machines sound like that. After a huge off-putting of energy and the starting of what seemed to be a vicious brawl, Ezzy was sat up-right and and pushed towards a gate. Getting her balance without so much of a counter thought, her head snapped in the direction of the now ensuing fight. 

She knew that this was going to end up dangerous, she could feel it in the air, causing her skin to tingle and crawl in the utmost uncomfortable of fashions. And for the same reason that her skin crawled like a thousand ants, she was drawn towards it: curiosity. She loved power and everything about it. This verse was new and grand, beautiful in the most simplistic of ways. Amazing and stellar in the fact that she could simply see things that she had never experienced before now, and that she wouldn't have otherwise in her own native verse. 

She continued to look on, even when this man, who's name she had gleamed was Demetri, stepped protectively in front of her. He was a charming young man from what she had observed. Rescuing her from the glass serpent that now laid in the fountain, detestedly dissolving into Omnilium as various enchanting objects spilled from it's dead fanged maw, sounding out a somber choir of jumbled discord that seemed to set the perfect mood for both the death of a mystical creature and the now in-progress battle. What a pity. She thought to herself, though failing to be distracted for such a brief moment by the passing of the creature that she indeed caught the sight of a small character get struck, thrown across the breadth of the fountain and smashing into the curb where she had just been sitting a moment prior.

With fearless eyes, she looked up at the attacker, a fly-rinked skeletory figure of many dark colors floating amongst the shards of multi-colored glass, silver Omnilium and broken fountain pieces. She watched as the fountain's water gushed for a second, the flow shortly being stopped by the nexus' ability to mend itself, the water soaking back into the ground. The figure cackled as it looked over its victim, a laugh that sounded like course metal being shorn from shear weight.

She heard the young man next to her cry out, asking what monstrosity had graced their vision today, though using appropriate yet ill-mannered language to convey his terror. The shock wave from the devastating strike had caused a gust of wind, blowing her hair back as if the beginning of a frightful storm at the high seas was now over shadowing them.

And yet still she wasn't frightened. In fact, she wanted to know what it felt like to fight against this creature, some inner instinct made her want to stretch her fingers with the feeling of tearing it apart, give pressure to her teeth as she ripped it apart with her mouth. It was a strange instinct that she still felt even after all these years, the need and urge to dominate any that could possibly be a threat, to crush and force into submission anyone that could serve her, and by any means at her possible disposal.

Of course, she wasn't stupid. This was a passing flight of temptation that would never pose any serious risk to her. She was far too controlled for something like that to sink it's metaphorical fangs into her mind and render her moot.

When Demetri spoke, addressing them both by name, he confirmed her feelings. This thing was a monstrous force that could probably eat them for a pre-breakfast snack without further thought. She listened as he invited them both to either come with him to Camelot, or stay. He did make certain to tell them that staying would cause their imminent and pointless demise.

It wasn't then that she decided to leave, no she had decided that she would leave should some violence arise out of the gathering long before she had met the thief and young man. She took a step back as Demetri took a step forward, mirroring his movement but in the opposing direction, not yet turning her back to the situation. She wanted to watch as long as possible before she had to go. She wanted to see if this man would attempt to jump into the fight as well, if he would do anything interesting, anything outside of her expectations. So far, he hadn't, but that didn't mean she didn't find him to be pleasant enough for her company.

She heard the AI speak up once more, this time in a volume loud enough so that she and Erik could hear her with no trouble or strain what-so-ever.

"Creator is quite well adapted to flee, you Erik, you and the succubus," Ezzy blinked at this comment, almost tempted to forcefully separate the man from the suit and have a lengthy speech with the machine. A spiel that could very possibly end with the machination being tossed carelessly into some hot forge or volcano if one could be located in a suitable amount of time. She knew that she was captivating and enchanting, but she didn't like being called names by such an inferior piece of technology, "can go ahead and head that way as we make sure we aren't followed. We will follow behind to ensure your safety."

Oh so on top of this machine insulting her integrity, and acting like such an uncivilized and low-browed AI, she wouldn't even get to see something interesting yet. She wanted to observe death incarnate and all of it's glory, from a safe distance of course. She wanted to revel in chaos, destruction and entropy, as was her true birth right!

This whooperup was quite the fifteen puzzle, totally anti-enthuzimuzzy, and she'd be damned if this creation made her seem so, so podsnappery! (even if she did act as such) Narrowing her eyes, a motion one could easily take as her attempting to protect her eyes from the wind, she turned on her heel and quickly made her departure, not even bothering to linger long enough to see the man glow blue. She showed no other external signs of having been even a slight bit upset by the AI's remark. 

She was fast, but graceful, slowing to an allowable pace after a decent twenty-five minute rush to the gate of Camelot, it's gate guarded by a few grizzled looking men wearing rustic tunics overlaid with chain mail cuirasses, their shoulders, forearms, head and legs were shielded by plated steel armor.

They allowed her entrance into the Camelot verse after a few brief questions:

"State your name."

"Ezzy Von Althaus."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Well my business is to stay alive, and living is quite my pleasure." She paused with a smile, red lips parting to flash white teeth. "You see, everyone is fighting in the Nexus yet again, so my passage would be much appreciated."

Casting a glance at each other, they allowed her to enter the verse without any further questioning.

Stepping into the verse was something new. As she had yet to travel to any other verse but the Nexus previous to this moment, it was amazing to see earth, dirt, grass, leaves, and even, those-before-us forbid, a color other than clear sickening pure white. She hadn't realized that while sitting in the Nexus that entire time, she had slowly come to feel like a bug, something insignificant yet dark and dirty compared to the vast pure landscape that had made the entirety of the Nexus up.

It had made her uncomfortable and unsafe, the familiar feeling of paranoia creeping up behind her eyes. Of course, these feelings hadn't had long enough to effect her mind and actions yet. She was still sane for now, safe for now, stable enough for now. Stepping through Camelot's gate had felt like a giant ever-present omniscient gaze had been lifted off of her shoulders and mind, it was the same feeling she had gotten when she had come from her world and into the Nexus.

Then it crossed her mind. Maybe this cycle of reprieve, paranoia, reprieve would continue on. Maybe it would only end in her death... Then again, did death even work the same way here? Could she die, would she age? Would her body heal just like the perfected landscape of the Nexus? This world was different from hers, maybe when she died, she wouldn't be reincarnated like she had been so many times before.

The thought of death being a permanent end to her did bring a twinge of fear into her stomach as she walked along a worn path to a castle in the distance. The impermanence of death was what had made her so careless in the first place, but what was a god-being, who had the collective memories and experience of hundreds of millions of years, doing fearing death? Why did she feel that fear when she knew nothing else but courageously foolhardy action?

It was simply outside of her understanding, she could not comprehend non-existence. Non-existence was neither blackness nor a void, it was by definition nothingness, a concept that was foreign to any being able to have complex thought, be entertained, anything with a soul. Everything had been created at the same time, the force that held them together, their souls, their planets, stars, galaxies, all of it had been conceived and born in one instant. Before that was nothing. Therefore nothingness was a thing that she had never interacted with. It had come long before her very existence, and had been hiding from all sight since the birth of the universe.

After a few moments of brisk walking, she slowed to a stop, casting a glance at everything around her. With all this life around her, she still felt so alone, desolate, empty. She felt raped, violated, helpless against her onslaught of thoughts that poured through the cracks in her head and flooded her, filled her up and drowned her out. She felt confused and she didn't know how to process that emotion.

So she chose not to.

Taking a calm breath, she reeled in her emotions and forced them deep, deep down inside of her head. She pushed them to the very back and packed them away in wooden boxes sealed with cast iron nails. She piled box on top of box, then buried them with every miserable and painful memory that she had experienced in her past; covering and covering and covering. She patched the cracks with loose cloth and wall plaster, and covered the warped ground with cheap carpeting.

She would not think about this anymore. Never again would she willingly choose to think of these things. They made her feel insane, unstable, unsafe. She felt volatile, like a pressurized explosive crammed into a tiny bottle, ready to explode and bust open. She would not know who would be hit by the shards of shrapnel.

She would like not to hit people with Shrapnel any time soon. She did not want to go back to the place of sheer insanity. She liked her control, she streamlined system of keeping tabs on everything, being in control. She was afraid of being deep deep down within her own head with nothing but her musings left to keep her lonesome company.

She would decide to take this moment to wait up for the others that she was supposed to be travelling with to catch up with her completely. She would show no outward signs of the inner struggle she had just experienced. She was in control of herself now. Completely and totally. She would even, in fact, greet her travel partners with a calm smile and warm but observant eyes, kind posture and open to conversation.

When Deme catches up with her, she would, in her ever gentle and enchanting voice, ask, "Would you mind telling me what that so happened to be back there? Both with the floating skeleton, and your mechanization's rather unsavory comment on me."

The cross stood in front of him. Eon stared at it. This was his first real creation in this world. He had spent all night working on it, remembering every last detail. It was perfect, and just what Eon had wanted it to be, thanks to Omnillium. A lot had happened in the span of a day.  He knew he needed to take his leave soon, the encounter with the Empire's Soldiers had taken a lot out of him and even more out of Granny. She hadn't said another word to him after the men had left. She had just watched him silently as he sent the Soldiers on their way. Eon had said good night to her and retired to the back of the kitchen, where he had begun work on the cross. If he stayed here too long, it might be possible to put the old lady in more danger and he didn't want that. Also, he couldn't make any progress in this world if he just stayed here. He would have to venture out and find his own home and allies.... allies... he laughed to himself slightly.

 Other than his Master and his two brethren, he'd always been alone really. The idea of finding allies is a place as alien as this one seemed absurd. He himself was alien, though all other Primes did have one thing in common. The fact they had been brought here, and told this was where they would remain so long as they entertained the God of this realm, Omni. Eon would leave before the sun rose, until then...

He ventured into the dinning area of the old worn down bar. He began focusing his Omnillium on the rest of the bar, fixing the cracks and breaks in the chairs, tables and walls. Not trying to make the place perfect, what would be the point? It would eventually be all broken again by thugs and drunk egotistical soldiers. That's why Eon decided no matter where he went, he'd return here to help Granny with the upkeep. She may have a slightly different view of him now, but he was in her debt.

He spent the rest of the night on this project, even making Granny new pans and utensils. He began to see the hint of morning through the windows. He quietly made his way out the back. The glow of his Omnillium began again, as the minutes passed the shape of a motorcycle began to appear and solidify. As the sun peeked over the dunes Eon finished and straddled the bike.

"You just gonna take off without letting me say goodbye... thank you... nothing? You little shit." Granny stood in the door way, eyes swelling up. Her toes at the edge of the frame. She wanted to take a step out but couldn't, forever bound.

Eon turned and smiled with a slight raising of his hand, "Granny! Thought you'd be asleep. Didn't wanna wake you. I'll be back, just going to run some errands! Take care Granny." He kicked his foot down and let the engine rip, hit the throttle.

Granny stood wide eyed, almost in shock. Eon peeled the back tire and gave one last wave goodbye. It was best she had no idea where he was going or what he was doing. It was time build up his reputation.

With Ronald behind him, Seventeen made his way further into the Ashen Steppes.  If what Joe the Magikoopa had told him was accurate, he’d eventually stumble upon some sort of tower owned and operated by an entire kingdom of anthropomorphic turtles.  While the machine-hybrid wasn’t entirely certain that sounded like an appealing place for a non-reptile, he knew he didn’t feel like stumbling his way through the white world another time, especially if those angry-looking people had resorted to fisticuffs.
 
As Seventeen carefully made his way across a landscape dotted with small heat vents, fissured earth, and the occasional pocket of active magma, his thoughts turned inward.  What the hell is this place, anyway?
 
He knew that he was in a place called the Ashen Steppes, and that the volcano world was a component of ‘the Omniverse.’  At the helm of the Omniverse was the all-white man with the smile and the weird, disembodied voice.  Was Omni the guy in charge or was he just some sort of weird manifestation of this world?
 
Is this just another one of those simulation-based challenges?
 
Back in his world, there’d be a great rise in ‘reality shows’ during the last years of his mortal life.  Rich entrepreneurs would pour a lot of money into designing fancy locations and then drop people into strange situations.  Nine times out of ten, the ‘contestants’ were supposed to kill each other.  Most of the time, that’s how things worked out in the end...
 
What was that guy’s name? Seventeen scowled at how bad his memory had become since his death.  Axel?  Damon? …Brim? The machine-hybrid knew it would come to him sooner or later. 
 
“I wonder if this is any different.”
 
The cyborg paused for just a moment and let his words hover in the air around him.  He hadn’t thought of it before, but what if this was just another one of those events?  Perhaps some smirking executive in an expensive suit was watching him through a hidden camera and waiting for him to trip into a pool of lava.  Was his best friend lurking behind a bush somewhere, waiting to pop out and reveal that he’d signed him up for some inane adventure game?
 
I wouldn’t put it passed Kirano… He’d be all over this type of thing.
 
Unfortunately, the more Seventeen thought about it, the more he started to doubt the hypothesis.  How many television producers had enough money to build a device that could function in the vicinity of a collapsing galaxy?  If someone was trying to make money from him, they probably would have had Ronald betray him.  What was more conducive to ratings than a saucy betrayal from someone you trusted?
 
Wonder if that means I’m stuck in this place.
 
If all the Omniverse had to offer was a bunch of volcanoes and turtles, Seventeen knew he was going to be in for one hell of an existence.  Sadly, the reptiles with the cartoonish features were probably the only clue he had to get to the bottom of the situation.  All he had to do was find whatever tower Joe had been talking about prior to their separation.
 
As he weaved his way across a landscape marred by smoke-laced fissures and bubbling pools of magma, Seventeen’s started to daydream.  In his mind, he was back to a simpler time—a moment in his life when all he had to do was keep track of a group of misfits and outcasts.  A mansion in the woods had been their home for a few years, and during that time, the little collection of aliens, golems, robots, and amnesiac human had made the North Quadrant their playground.
 
Like many things, time had spelled an end for all good things.  One by one, the faces around the picnic table had vanished into memory or oblivion.  The true killer of friendships is time, and near the end of his mortal life, the table had been empty save the cyborg’s girlfriend, two small children, the girlfriend of his best friend, and the small child who bore his father’s moniker.  The gloomy woman, her eyes betraying just how deep the sadness ran, would never find happiness.  While Seventeen made true on his promise to find his best friend, Kirano and Phoebe never repaired the gulf between them.
 
What had once been a lovely couple had been sundered by time apart.
 
The pair faded from the vision in Seventeen’s head, leaving behind only the android’s immediate family.
 
His girlfriend had been a rock in his life for a long time.  In his worst moments, she served to pull him up from the darkness.  She’d been an angel when they met, but by the time of his death, she’d become something almost foreign to him.  He had never been able to solve it, but he knew that something had taken root inside of her.  When his lease on mortality expired, he’d tried to keep an eye on her, but she vanished, leaving behind their children.
 
The feisty redhead—the woman he’d loved without hesitation—faded from the picture in his head, leaving behind two smiling children.
 
While fatherhood had never been something on his list of life goals, the machine-hybrid loved the twins with every fiber of his existence—mortal or otherwise.  He’d watched over them from the afterlife whenever he could find time.  After a few years, a version of his daughter from a darker future had found herself in the past, and Seventeen had done his best job to watch over her as well.  They’d been on the verge of meeting in person when the invaders had struck.
 
Seventeen had gone off to fight the dragon in order to keep the grown version of his daughter safe, and he had accepted his death knowing that he’d taken out the lone obstacle that she never could.
 
The picnic table was empty, save a scrawny young man with black hair drooped in front of his features.
 
Even in death, he’d never felt alone, but as he walked across the Ashen Steppes, the cyborg started to understand that he was no truly by himself.  No Kirano to share a few beers with.  No Paige to scratch his back as they went to sleep.  No Piper and Cole to cheer him on as he ran through the backyard with them on his shoulders.
 
All I’ve got now is a salt merchant and a turtle wizard.
 
With Ronald off to sell salt, that meant the machine-hybrid would have to go track down the latter of the two.  If what Joe the Magikoopa said was true, the Koopa Kingdom might be able to provide Seventeen with some much-needed information.
 
Hell, he’d take a soft bed to crash on for a day or two. 
 
And some air conditioning, while we’re at it…

Because I hate time, life, sleep, and probably money, I've decided to host a DnD game.
When would this game be? likely sometime during the week proper, since friday, saturday, and sunday are completely tied up for me - Also, by DnD.

That in mind, I plan to host 5e, with the ability to play homebrew classes and races on a case-by-case basis(present 'em to me and I'll decide - though if it's something very out-of-the-ordinary, a background justifying it's existence in the campaign proper would be helpful).

I plan on this being a fairly traditional medieval setting, and as a short campaign lasting 3 or 4 session at most. This is partly just to test the waters regarding my DMing style with the Omniverse crowd.

It should be noted that while this campaign will be fairly short, however, I have a longer campaign being planned, which these characters would be able to be transferred to after the fact, should the evil end boss be slain and all go well. Or... perhaps even if they aren't slain, and all goes terrible.

The campaign will likely start "as soon as I have enough people", but drop-ins during the first session or two as reinforcements are completely acceptable, so even if the campaign has already begun, feel free to apply to join.

There is no set minimum to how many players the campaign will need to get going, but I will be setting a tentative maximum of 5 players actually playing.

As I will be hosting this on skype, I will need to add you there in order for you to play.

Seriously, I am stuck on this.

Sasuke Uchiha stepped out of the Fountain, glad to be done with that ordeal. Glad that it was over. Victor and Orihime followed.

The sentiment lasted about two seconds.

"Mister Uchiha," greeted Smith. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't turn up."

Koal wasn't sure what possessed him to leave the others, but every fiber of his being implied him to flee from them. They were dangerous, and would only succeed at distracting Koal from his mission. So here he was, swerving his way through the market area of Minas Tirith, haggling with some wizened old man, their good natured bargaining going back and forth, back and forth.

 The subject of their good-natured debate was a dog. Not just any dog though, this was a fine-bred hound. And Koal didn't actually want her, but he knew he needed to fit into the crowd, these people were still suspicious of the tall dark-haired teen, yet they felt more at ease because he played their game. It was a game of strategy, like chess, it was a give and take situation. In this case, the young man could tell he was fighting a losing battle, so he thanked the elder, and once more weaved himself into the mass of people milling in the street.

The sound of natural nothing metal drew Koal's attention to a small stand a few meters to his left. A blaksmiths' tent; Koal's hand involving flicked the sword that lay buckled to his right hip, the worn grip feeling almost perfect in his grasp. He drew the blade a couple inches out of its midnight sheath, the silver blade now nicked and waited under the weight of the blows delivered to it. He might as well get rid of it, it was nothin but a bad memory anyway.

"Excuse me, sir?" His voice was tenative yet sure, " If you could spare a moment of your time, I have a piece that I would like appraised."  The hulking mountain let his hammer fall a choice mitt times, before lifting up the white-hot blade and inspected it, his bearded face glowing slightly from the luminescent metal. He tossed out to the side, into a small trough of water, bubbles writing from the water with a violent hiss as the water comes his creation.

Koal felt the vibrations of the blacksmiths footprints as the man approached him, the black eyed muttering his violet ones as he still his hand out. 

" The names' Paul, young man. What do you have for me today?" He rubbed the palms of his hands together,a childlike glued filling his eyes as he regarded the blade in front of him. Koal looked the thin blade, the black sheath and hilt emitting a faint black aura. He was reluctant to give it up, and the Smith seemed to understand his plight.

" You've fought with it before, haven't you, young man?" His eyes were sympathetic and his tone gentle " It is a blade with much sentimental value, and you are hesitant to give it up. I understand, but I'm sure you have your reasons for wanting it gone, do you not?" Koal nodded his head, his voice stick in his throat as he started at the blade that had caused him so much pain, yet had defended him from so much.

" I...need it gone, sir, yet I'm not sure what I would do without it," the young teen let out a sigh, running a hand over his ragged face, " Just take it. I want nothing in return." He picked on a hell, then began his face through the crowd once more...

The South let out a sigh ass he gently created the blade, as one would create a newborn babe. " I hope ya find peace lad, I truly do."

Can Secondaries be re-summoned after they have been killed and, if so, is there a limitation to how many times/how often this can be done?

I just got Diablo 3 again was wondering if anyone would be down to play. I am playing on the 360. My gamer tag I'd DNH Mindless if anyone is interested ,just drop me a friend request and a pm, layers

So, I've been toying with this for a bit, but what if there was an in character chatbox? Basically, a place to RP non-canonically, in a more live format. Mainly to have time to screw around while waiting for posts. Thing is, I really want this to be a feature that the site has, as I think it could really benefit the site. So, I'll leave it up to staff as to whether this becomes official or not. In the meantime, though...





I've already taken the liberty of creating an example/unofficial ICC, for shits and giggles. http://my.cbox.ws/OmniverseICC

If and when this is considered, keep in mind that format can be changed, the host site can be changed, et cetera.


Now, as for the setting of this, think of a room. One that looks like a mansion's living room, with a few sofas, a fireplace, and a door to a kitchen in the back. Got that? Good. That's our setting. Of course, try to keep fights to a minimum, and all rules in the normal Omniverse still apply here.


With this, though, feel free to leave suggestions and ideas to make this better!


Thank you for your time.