This topic is created to fix any misconceptions that may be afoot about the following character(s). As usual - feedback is appreciated. This probably gonna get vetoed by the way.

Character name: Quintet of Insane Magicians (Something other would be preferred really)
Abron “the Falcon” Constantine
Lt. Clement Demantes (The Flowing Scribe)
Narga, the Fallen
Eden the 341st
Vidor Gahib, Slow-paced Daydreamer

Character source: Original

Character history:
The world of isn't exactly what you would call peaceful and smaller conflicts tend to break out between the major nations of mages from the slightest insults. Despite that large wars are rare and far between. Well, that rare occasion still happens. And those are, despite the unrivalled scale of devastation, truly a sight to behold, as everyone seems obsessed with making the greatest, grandest weaponry possible and this is the only chance to bring it to bear. When the bell of war rang again over the bleached walls of the City of Sun nation was ecstatic. They always were fast to forget the bad and never cared for danger, so that was just another thrill, another chance to spread the wings.
To the West, in the heart of the Vast Ocean a fleet departed from the port. The heralds sang the orders of the Queen and the waves obeyed.
To the East a lone figure left the endless sands of the desert. The nomads always come when they want.
In the North the tribes of the steppes and mountains took off and the winds followed them.
Southern Mountains shook, as the Earthen Gates opened wide once more, releasing the faceless cohorts of the deeps again.
On the western shores of the continent they clashed. In actuality, none was sure, as already happened multiple times in the past, why it all began. Yes, there was some pressure, but isn't there always? At no point one could just wrap their mind around something for a moment and declare "This is why the war began!". No one was even entirely sure why the Deepest City got involved at all.
Nevertheless there they were. The fiery winged brigades clashed with carefree northern shamans in the sky above, the ranks upon ranks of Her Majesty's muskets unloaded into the fanatical worshippers of the Sun, the faceless cohorts raised their walls of stone before the mounted warriors of north and a lonely figure wreathed in flowing cloth aimlessly walked the carnage, untouched and unshaken, leaving only desolation in it's wake.
Now. Even nigh-omniscient and omnipotent beings make mistakes. Two mages, one flying faster than any bird could hope on the metal wings wrapped in flames and the other carried aloft by the air itself, crashed into one another sky high. Below, waves of all sorts of scumbags, led by a single, gleaming streak of white in the lake of bilge, advanced on the immovable ranks of the cohorts of faceless warriors, standing as one, like a cliff under relentless assault of the raging sea. And, on the edge of vision, a lone figure once again surfaced from the chaos of battle, slowly coming to the very culprit. And then, in a flash, just like that, it was over. One of the Falcons, the quickest wings of Sun, fell down far too fast, as the air fled his lungs at the order of a young shaman. The metal wings aren't the safest, and the Falcons are told to house a shard of the power of the Radian Sun itself in theirs. All in all, a large stroke of land was consumed in flames, as were many, many soldiers there.
Now. Mistakes. Well, there was a glowing figure in the darkness. It spoke of strange and wondrous things.
Then all there was left was white void. And the voices in Abrons head.

Physical Description:
Abron: Sinewy, thin man standing at around 170cm. All the muscles on his body, especially on shoulders and arms, are extremely well defined, although they are rarely seen as he prefers to only ever remove his flightsuit (a rough leather set of intersewing clothing with metal inlays that covers the entirety of body, with exception to the head) when the smell becomes absolutely unbearable. He seems twitchy and nervous while on the ground, but at the same time all his movements are precise and impossibly careful and calculated, as if he was operating an extremely complex machine at all times. (Eyes - Hazel, Hair – none, Skin – pale on open patches, sickly-pale everywhere else
"Artist impression":
[spoiler][/spoiler]

Demantes: A hard man, standing at 179cm, he is everything you would expect from an officer, whose job is to Inspire. Wide shoulders are paired with a proper posture at all times, all clad in snow-white uniform. (Eyes – normally grey, luminescent blue/white with Scribe, hair - black(coloured), dirty brown(real), skin – mariner tan)
Images hard to find damn, Bastonne will have to do:
[spoiler][/spoiler]

Narga – small, almost childlike, woman, about 156cm tall. Her frail frame is adorned in a flowing weaved robe of originally milky-white colour, now barely recognizable grey. Despite the seeming weakness she has all the endurance you would expect from a Shaman and aid of the Wind to back her up. (Hair – haystack blonde, eyes – green, skin – seems to be permanently sunburned)
Artist Impression, I wish I could draw edition:
[spoiler][/spoiler]

Eden – a walking wall of a man. Well over 210cm and probably wide enough to cause some smaller gates feel uncomfortable. Dressed in what seems to be clattering stone plates tied to some kind of an undercoat. (Hair – dusty red, eyes - jet black iris, pure-white sclera, skin – extremely pale, sunburns easily)
Srsly, Demon Souls? Oh, and it doesn't even fit the site width:
[spoiler][/spoiler]

Gahib – A nondescript figure, clad in several layers of multiple-coloured thick cloth, with only arms and a small area around eyes visible. Somewhere around 160cm, most motions are either flowing and slow or sudden and harsh. (Eyes – no distinct iris or lens with a nebula where they are supposed to be, Hair – yet to be seen, skin – all non covered skin seems to be extremely tan)
Finally, one that actually fits:
[spoiler][/spoiler]

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

Starting Proficiencies:Physical Strength (1000)

Starting Powers: Flight, Burst Movement, Master Acrobat (3000)

Starting Moves:
Amelin Portable Wings (Requires Strength, Flight, Master Acrobat, Burst Movement) (900)
(Only usable in Abron form)
Amelin family always stood out. Part of the Machinari School, but setting themselves aside. Demolishing the dogmas, only to establish their own. Not a big surprise they were the ones, who found a way to lock pure fire in a simple stone. And then channel it so it created power unrivalled. Now what would a sensible person do? Heat up their home in winter, illuminate streets, maybe develop a weapon or two. The Amelins grasped the and used it to take off for the sky, first on ramshackle, bonged together things, then perfecting the design more and more, until a true masterpiece, the Wings of Iron, was born. And immensely complicated contraption, with each feather hollowed out and linked to a little gem on the back of the user, 3 meter long wings grant unparalleled mobility and speed. Normally such a thing would be far too heavy to even walk, bar fly with. But the peculiar mineral, mined in the land of metal was found to have an even more peculiar effect on its own weight, as well as weight of other things. More specifically, it always seemed to fall in a different direction than other things, and a proper mage of metal could forge weapons light as a feather, as they fell in every direction at once. That is what they were asked to do. And soon countless wings were created, no expense was spared.

Portable Wings are two 3m long... well... wings, beginning around Abrons shoulderblades and ending ~1.8m away from the tips of his fingers when extended. They follow every movement of his arms via a complex system of gears and levers, distributed along the whole length of both left and right limbs. The reverse applies, and if someone were to forcibly move one of the wings they would also be moving his arm. All feathers are razor sharp and overheated at almost all the time. The traditional combat style empathises wide, slashing motions that leave the wielder wide open, but with enough skill, they could be used to form a nigh-impenetrable barrier around the master. More importantly, those who become acquainted with the capabilities are often known recklessly use the power of the gem that fuels the flight to boost their movement to ridiculous speeds while in combat, increasing both speed and power of their attacks, at the cost of a risk of being slammed into the ground violently.
(300 for a melee weapon, 300 for defensive option, 300 for "extra power" mode, which is identical to Burst Movement in stamina drain)

Disclaimer: Those are multiple, as in several hundred small (about the size of a forearm) magic powered jet engines practically strapped to a semi-reliable construction.

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

Where did you find us? I am already here.

Forms:
Abron “the Falcon” Constantine – Base form. The winged warrior.

Lt. Clement Demantes (The Flowing Scribe). Alternate form (to be bought). Inspiring leader, devout follower.

Narga, the Fallen – Alternate form (To be bought). Mage by chance, supportive little ball of life.

Eden the 301st – Alternate form (To be bought). Walking wall, faceless protector.

Vidor Gahib, Slow-paced Daydreamer – Powered Up alternate form (to be bought). Absentminded devastator.

[spoiler]Short explanation: Omni messed up and got a couple primes mashed together as one. Decided to keep it that way for shits and giggles. Like he does most of the things here I gather.[/spoiler]

I didn't know what to expect when I exited the gate. Though for that matter I would have thought at least I’d know what the gate travel would be like. All in all it was kind of dull. No maelstrom of power, the conversion of matter into energy, nor melting clocks and other time pieces circling overhead. No just one step in and a few steps out. That simple, mundane even and yet not in this entirely normal.

Practical in a way the Wizarding World would have had trouble accepting. If it didn’t pop, transform, or injure you in some way then it wasn’t safe to travel. The only exception to that was when they appropriated over Muggle transportation and even then there were no guarantees as to the result or what end your head would be attached to afterwards.

The only thing that kept it from being boring was Nealaphh’s condensed and more than little complex explanation of his animagus abilities. Which given proper time and conversion of the numbers I figured I could replicate. Though no doubt I’d have to review the memory later to decipher the full content of what he had said. Though I quietly thought it might have been easier to just throw omnilium at the situation. My musing was however interrupted when the curtain of energy at the other end of the gate parted just ahead of me.

What greeted me didn't match the name either, "Well Nealaphh whoever named this place should give me my money back,” I said with a note of derision, as my eye wandered. Savannah at best, mostly dried vegetation that ranged between pale-brown to nearly white. The shoots of green I could glean seemed to be the kinds of weeds which prize lawn gardeners feared the worst or were more complex things such as shrubs and bushes. In the distance, I spied some sort of herd of quadrupeds that could be passed off as a relation to gazelles. The air itself had a tangy dryness and hint of detritus that went along with climates that had desperately short raining seasons that staunched a drought only just.

To put it bluntly, it looked like postcards one often saw at shops for Africa. The kind you send back to a family when you either want them to believe you’ve been some place or as a joke. Only somehow I was beginning to think that the Omniverse didn’t have a postcard shop. If it did, I really needed to see what other kinds of trinkets there were, might be something worth having and maybe even hint at the design of this place.

As it was, I had yet to even come across a place remotely like that and my observations were left mostly on the drier, more naturalist persuasion.

The temperature though was to say rather warm, warm as I was expecting and then some. Annoying but it was altogether impotent against the charms of a wizard. One in particular would help as I tapped the bridge of my hat, which was busy digesting the dataverse, and cast a simple cooling charm followed by that of an impervious charm for any potential sandstorms.

A blast of chill rushed and filled the first few inches above my skin, like a coastal breeze in the fall, sweetening the air enough that condensation formed on my skin.

Looking to my shoulder I gave a nod to my raised wand, “Cooling and sand protection charms for your troubles?” I left it unsaid that I needed directions; simply asking would be like stating an obvious question that needed to be answered anyways. I may be a genius but I wasn’t yet a god, so omniscient thought of knowing exact locations even before I’d been there was beyond me. Hence an offer of a cooling charm rather than looking helplessly lost or confused.

I know we have a gaming thread, but I made an Omniverse group for those of us who frequent the PSN. I'll invite all those who want to be a part.

My PSN tag is Zulenka. I don't play much multiplayer. Currently working through Witcher III and Assassin's Creed: Syndicate.

If I die in the Underverse how long does it take for my body to rematerialize in a different area? Is it immediate or does it take 3 days like a normal death?

so hi everyone!! jade harley here, otherwise known as gardengnostic on other boards :) i thought it would be really fun if we had a .gif war here on the dataverse and so i threw together this message board real quick

the directions are:

1. post a gif image!!! nothing too crazy or disturbing though, please
2. let the dank memes flourish in their natural habitat :p
3. thats all there is to it!! its not very difficult, see??

with that being said, i will start us off!! prepare to be owned, suckers!!!!!! haha, just kidding, youre all pretty cool :D

So like, some folks do it. I do it. I think it'd help people access your work.

I'd just suggest if you have the time, to record a 'catalogue' of your character's adventures. It's basically just a collection of links to the threads your character's been in, laid out in chronological order. Makes it so if someone wants to catch up on your character, it's much easier to do.

You can give my roster a quick lookee to see what I'm on about. It's by no means a requirement but there's a fair few of you who I'd really like to follow up on and check out your adventures, but I can't/won't sort through everything to figure out what goes where/when and work out your chronology, and I'm willing to bet there's a number of people who feel the same way.

Half the fun is exposure right? Make it easier to... be exposed (okay, phrasing, but you know what I mean).

So Orion and Sinestro are duking it out in the Dunes. Pretty exciting stuff. You should check it out why not.

We would like to request someone to judge our fight, if there are any takers. Here's what we wanna do:

Posts: 3 each (excluding my introduction/set up post)
Word Count: Uncapped, but we won't go crazy
Time Limit: None

To make your job a little easier, you can just say that I win. :c00l:

The smell of sun rotted flesh and woodfire smoke sunk into Orion's nostrils as he left the bar. His first few steps coincided with the thick crunches of broken glass peppered over the ground. Buildings all around suffered scars from the bandit invasion; broken windows, battered and scorched walls, doors ripped from their hinges. However, the people of the town with no name had already initiated the cleanup. He saw a moustachioed man busily sweeping the fragmented objects of his home together in a pile through his jagged window. Another couple helped carry in furniture strewn on the street as an elderly man with a crooked back looked on smiling, leaning on his cane. Three men pushed around a two wheeled cart, stopping to haul a fallen bandit onto it for a destination unknown to Orion. If it was his choice, he'd throw them out beyond the city limits and let the vultures feast on them.

In any case, the town was pulling together. They already began repairs on the remnants of their nightmare. At the rate they worked, and with the altruism they displayed to their neighbours, their town would likely be almost restored in a few days, he surmised. Resilient lot.

"This was your idea," Sinestro said, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat. "Where should we test our strength?"

Orion looked around. "Not in town. Enough damage has been done here already."

"The city outskirts," Sinestro suggested. "No one lives out there, just sand. If we find our battle takes us closer to the town, there's always more room to spread out into."

"Indeed," Orion said, poking his side. His damaged ribs felt healed. What was in that booze?

The saiyan picked a direction and walked, Sinestro following his gait beside him.

"These people," Orion said as they travelled. "Why do you protect them?"

"Chaos needs quelling," Sinestro said, eyes on the horizon. "Order must be established."

"That didn't answer my question," Orion said, looking at the Lantern.

Sinestro returned the stare, then set his eyes forward again. "What does it matter? These people need my protection. I was here. It doesn't have to be more complicated than that."

Orion looked over his shoulder at the townspeople. "No. I suppose not."

The passed through the boundary of the town, leaving the last buildings on its edge. Some of the structures no longer stood as evidenced by the smouldering piles of rubble, and others had complete walls blown clean away. It made sense that these unfortunate dwellings were the hardest hit. The bandits loved destruction. Orion couldn't bring himself to hate them, though. Under the right circumstances, he could've been leading the raid on this town rather than defending it, and he would've been perfectly at peace with the decision. After all, his old life was composed of invasions exactly like this one. Of course, his life had changed since his saiyan squadron days, allowing him to appreciate the concept of protection, of peace. Yet to this day, he could take either and run with it. It all came down to perspective. Or whichever side he stood to gain from.

The sun half sank behind the veil of the horizon, painting the sky in vivid oranges and pale pinks. Despite its descent, the sands still brimmed with scorching temperatures. Heat waves seeped from them, bending and twisting objects in the distance into a swaying pattern, though beyond the town all Orion could see was sand dunes and the twisted metal chassis of bandit vehicles he either trampled or melted as an Oozaru. He noticed the dying rays of the sun glint off his metal arm bracers.

"Does this suit?" Sinestro asked. The town was still within sight, but with Orion's back to it, at least his ki attacks wouldn't be a threat. Sinestro, though, might have some sort of projectile based moves. Best to keep their relative position in mind.

Orion nodded. "We shouldn't bother the town."

Orion weaved his fingers together and angled his wrists downwards, cracking his knuckles. Unlacing them, he balled his fists and tensed his muscles. The edges of his robe quivered, as did the tips of his black hair. Releasing the bonds on his ki, he flooded his body with it, feeling it soak into his muscles, meshing with them, bolstering them. A light wind rose from the sand around him, ruffling his robe further. The energy plateaued. Orion stiffened his back and groaned loud enough for it to echo back at him, and a navy blue aura ensconced his body. The winds from the outward expression of his ki kicked the sands away from him, leaving him in a small crater. It was hardly his full power, but it was enough to get the ball rolling.

Sinestro stared back at the saiyan. His face gave nothing away. If only his NOVA unit was working, maybe he could get a read on the Lantern. Right now, he had no idea how strong his opponent was; he could be a worthy adversary or a pompous weakling. That ring at least would provide some unique tricks, but Orion really hoped for a challenging fight. The bandits were cannon fodder, good only for flushing the rage from his system. He wanted something more tactical, something that would push his limits. That's all he ever wanted from a fight.

"There's a saying amongst saiyans," Orion said. "You never really know someone until you fight them. Not just for determining their strength, but for revealing their true qualities. When someone's life hangs in the balance, they'll show themselves for who they really are, for good or not."

Sinestro tilted his head upwards. "Are you suggesting this is a fight to the death?"

"No," Orion said, his natural eye narrowing. "I'll pull back the killing blow at the last second."

Character name: Rubick, son of Aghanim

Character source: Dota

Brief Description:

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Rubick is a human being of average height, about 5'9". He possesses a build that could be described as outwardly thin and weak. However, through combat, he has become stronger than he seems. He moves in a bird-like manner in many respects, often twitchy and even somewhat inhuman to those who haven't met him, due to a mixture of the arcane energies that flood him, and the unending curiosity that drives him. He can move normally, but to him, it's natural. His proclivity to sandals reveals that his skin tone is also a strange grey, also due to the sheer amount of kinds of magic that flows through him.

As for his face, no one has ever seen it, as he keeps his warmask on whenever in public. His speech, of a rather high-class timbre, is therefore warped by this mask.

This link should provide an excellent idea of what he sounds like.

Character history: This Rubick is Dota 2's version. He'll be entering the Omniverse after he has attained the rank of Grand Magus, more than a few successful defenses of both Radiant and Dire Ancient shards, and a fateful meeting which is expounded upon in the Prologue.

From the day he was born, Rubick seemed destined for greatness, being the only son of the intrepid mage Aghanim. However, few would surmise he would become nearly as powerful, and nearly as peculiar as he is today.

Under the tutelage of numerous mages, wizards, warlocks, and witches since he could read, a young Rubick became accustomed to all sorts of energies associated with magic. Whereas most apprentice magicians are bathed in the energies of a singular master, the future-Grand Magus became unconsciously aware of magic’s many forms and sources by experiencing more than a few first-hand. From fire to ice, light to dark, physical to incorporeal, more and more forms of knowledge and power became known to Rubick as he continued his studies. Some might call this education unfortunate: in Rubick’s world, a simple wizard often knows but a few spells at the most, and specialization is practically a necessity in order to maximize their effectiveness. However, it proved advantageous to the young mage: it sparked within him an undying curiosity to learn and become more; and it would pave the way for him to become the most powerful Magus yet to pass the judgement of the Hidden Council.

As Rubick grew in strength and ability, becoming a renowned duelist and warrior of magic, he continued to experience ever more of magic’s intricacies. But the charm soon wore off. The rest of the world was practically drowning in magic, his planet becoming more and more of a battleground for great nations and gods with every passing year. His restless spirit grew tired of merely feeling these swirling eddies of ethereal power around him, watching them fizzle into nothingness. He wished to further understand them, perhaps, to use them for his own. It was a daunting task, unattempted by any mage before him, but he was more than up to it.

Around the time he was recognized as a full-fledged member of the Arcane Society of the Hidden Council, his world’s most prestigious magical institution and a place outwardly free of the turmoil that surrounded it, he began to use the resources now available to him to conduct numerous experiments in regards to semi-artificially replicating different forms of magical energies. Stubborn as a dog despite his many failures (laced with the cheerful relaxation of a friendly magical spar now and again...and the dispatching the would-be assassins that were commissioned to take his life from mages who feared Rubick's potential), the budding Magus eventually discovered the complex mental formulae that would allow him to take on literally any spell or power he desired.

But Rubick was ill-contented with simply possessing such invaluable arcane knowledge. It was worthless unless he found an extraordinarily interesting way to use it. After all, being a simple Magus of the Society was growing rather boring; the same mages to duel, the same duties to perform, the same spells and daggers meant to stop his heart tossed casually his way, made Rubick a rather dull boy.

One day, in a rather sudden turn of events, Rubick publicly declared his intentions to kill a Magus. This sparked an understandable outrage among the Society. Practically since the day it was founded, it had been plunged into the subtleties of political intrigue and secret ambitions, magi of all kinds and abilities following their own ways to control. It was not dissimilar to a king's corrupt court, filled with nobles desperate for recognition, wealth, and power. Despite the outward serenity that the Society put on for the general public that looked up to them and commissioned their services, it was in truth a den of vicious animals, ready to cannibalize one another for the sake of advancement. But now, the entire hushed, savage atmosphere of the Hidden Council’s order was broken with a singular announcement from an upstart charlatan whose studies were supposedly fruitless (seeing as Rubick had "neglected" to report his findings). Naturally, a great number of the Society bore down on Rubick, seeking to teach the young fool a lesson with the combined magical force of an entire army.

Unbeknownst to them, Rubick was well-prepared and had expected such a response. Through his own knowledge of the Society's true nature and his cleverness, he got the magi to play straight into his hands. As he entered the Tower of the Society on the fateful day of his ascension, a veritable maelstrom of magical energy of all sorts descended upon him. Curses, hexes, and incantations of all sorts set out to poison, freeze, incinerate, electrocute, and generally displace the atoms in the so-called fool’s body to occupy the space of the entire entrance hall. Unfortunately, these illustrious mages had absolutely no idea what was about to befall them.

Rubick’s natural understanding of and resilience to multiple magical energies, combined with carefully crafted protection charms and spells set in place in advance, barely shielded him from the initial onslaught. Already he felt exhausted as he simply fell to the ground, feigning death. But as his plan fell into place, he knew that he wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.

Suddenly from within the group of magi facing Rubick, a cry of anguish pierced the eerie silence that followed the calculated assault. Stricken with a hex of barbed chains gripping his body tightly, the first of many magi fell, choking and spasming as his life bled from his body, his longevity enchantment expiring as the rest of his body withered to ash. Knowing the spell to be of the current Inquisitor Magus, wands and staves were turned in his direction as everyone present immediately claimed treachery. But soon, another mage was stricken with a mighty gust of wind, knocking him backwards into a column. Another was bitten by a deathly, chilling frost, nearly frozen solid, yet another yelped in surprise as his silken robes caught fire spontaneously. With only a few simple uses of stolen spells, panic set in amongst the normally collected group, and soon these makeshift allies revealed their true colors as the bitter enemies they were inside. The greatest battle the Society had ever faced was upon them, and it was against themselves no less. The air was rife with crackling energies, power flooding the entrance hall, stifling every breath the magi took as they fought for what seemed like hours, none suspecting that the seemingly dead Rubick had something to do with it.

That is until the crafty devil himself, his garb glowing an unnatural green in response to the residual energies surrounding him, leapt to his feet, sandals clacking on the bloody, ash-stained marble floor as he passed the corpses of the fallen and the half-dead magi still standing. Too tired to continue the fight with their true enemy as the realization dawned on those not yet dead, they simply let him pass, a Scroll of Petition in his hand as he came before the presence of the Hidden Council at the very top of the Tower. Seeing his cleverness and arcane ability, the Insubstantial Eleven that composed the Council soon unanimously declared the outwardly overly curious, inept, twitchy Rubick as the Grand Magus. His place in the history of magic had been firmly cemented. And even then, Rubick’s thirst for knowledge and the power that lay with it would not be quenched. New position in hand, his scepter in the other, he led the great Society he had bested to a new age of progress and influence.

However, after many years of successfully fulfilling his new duties, considered by many to be the greatest Grand Magus in the history of the Society, he soon found himself bored again, ever desperate for new challenges that his managerial position did not often provide. Though he often participated in wars alongside the magi he commanded, whether his skills were commissioned by great kingdoms or by a shard of the Ancients that said kingdoms protected, they were soon becoming mere trifles, easily-resolved interruptions to his otherwise simple life. Even knowledge of the world itself, it seemed, was beginning to run out as he acquired tomes and grimoires of nearly every known magical discipline on his planet. He had gained further insight into magic, the meaning behind the Ancients that seemed to spur unending war in his world, the Titans and Fundamentals that created and composed his Universe, and even the philosophy and order behind life itself, than nearly all of his contemporaries. Even the simple joy of friendship and camraderie at his level of importance and knowledgeability was difficult to come by. Alas, his position didn't seem as Grand as when he had first taken the reins. He craved something new to mend the growing emptiness rending through his life, desperately.

Little did he know that his need would soon be met. In the near future awaited for him the ultimate test of his abilities...though the Grand Magus had faced many a foe, he would soon face a great deal more, powers the likes of which he had never envisaged before. His true calling would soon become apparent.

It was time to prove once again to a new audience that he was truly the Grandest Magus of all.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Prologue

[spoiler]A weary Rubick entered the study he had called home for the past ten years of his life. With a simple snap of his fingers, the darkened room was suddenly aglow with candle-flame as the door he had entered by shut, revealing its cozy, relaxed nature. The walls were covered with bookcases, in turn filled to the brim with new writings and ancient tomes alike, “organized” in a such a haphazard way only its master could interpret. What was still visible of the walls was a dark brown wood, warmly reflecting the light from the numerous candelabras that littered the room, leftover wax from the candles they held slowly dripping its way down to the lush, carpeted ground below. The room was also furnished generously, silken lounge chairs and expertly-crafted reading tables in every corner, all well-used, making the space seem somewhat smaller than it actually was. A half-finished game of Claddish Chess remained on the table next to the window that governed the western side of the study, at the moment tightly shut and hidden by heavy, embroidered drapery, allowing no extraneous light within.

However, Rubick was moving towards the centerpiece of the room, a wide, powerful desk of ebony, and the velvet-lined, comfortable chair that lay slightly askew behind it. The Grand Magus plopped into the chair without ceremony, leaning his sore body into the plush fabric as he exuded a long sigh, sounding otherworldly as it filtered through his war mask. “Hah…” he muttered as he loosened his cowl and hung it over the back of his seat, feeling feverishly hot from exertion. But while his body was tuckered out, his mind hadn’t even broken a sweat; in the moment it may have been satisfying, but in retrospect, it had been easy. Just as every war had been. The emptiness that filled him grew slightly larger.

But as bored and unstimulated as his mind was, there was yet more to do. His responsibility as the Grand Magus demanded it. With a simple flick of his hand, he telekinetically sifted through the scrolls and papers on his desk, his other summoning a quill from its inkwell, a trail of black ink left on the desk in its wake. He rubbed his head as he grew frustrated searching through the chaos until finally finding a blank sheet of parchment. Without ceremony, he began writing a letter to King Ostarion, Lord of the Wraith Kingdom in the south.

He hummed to himself tiredly as he got through the first paragraph, drawing upon every blessing and honor he knew. Word had told him that Ostarion refused to even look at personal letters if they didn’t contain the necessary praise of his wraithly, undead glory, and with how dire the current situation was, he couldn’t be afford to be ignored. He felt like he was practically kowtowing in his presence already...how humble the Grand Magus of all people had to be at times...

But it was necessary, and Rubick was never one to remain in a state of inaction. Truth be told, while his mind in the present was utterly bored with the current proceedings of his life, his mind in the future was exceedingly worried. He had faced the Undying in combat but a few days ago, battling once again for the Ancients that had called their aid. Normally, he was a tough combatant. He didn’t possess the title Undying for nothing, after all. But in this particular bout he was undoubtedly stronger. Rubick’s abilities to sense energies were second to none, and the sheer power emanating from that hunk of unliving flesh was choking. It could only mean one thing; The Dead God’s powers were rising once again. His acolytes had already wiped out many a town or village with alarming speed, but if his champion was so strong, he could barely imagine how quickly they might desecrate an entire nation. It was mere speculation, of course, but something had to be done pre-emptively to halt this assured advance. If Ostarion would be willing to rally his own undead kingdom forth against this threat, surely others would follow suit. And while he could tell that the four other heroes he had fought with that day could sense Undying’s growing power, out of all of them, Rubick held the most sway politically. He had to make the first move.

“Your...kingdom...naught but...dust…” the Magus muttered as he thought back to that terrifying sight, still scrawling upon the parchment at an almost frenzied pace. Undying was truly larger than life itself that day; in the sense that it looked and felt like it could swallow life whole. If it were any other hero with such skill and strength, Rubick would have never felt more alive in battle. But in its presence...he never felt more dead.

“Oh, Rubick?”

Startled from his thoughts, the Magus dropped his quill to look up at the unexpected visitor.

“Wh-who….you!?” yelped Rubick as he jolted up from his seat, reaching for his staff reflexively. But his mind must have been even more tired than he had thought, seeing as he had left the bloody thing in the study’s antechamber.

“Oh I knew you’d forget it...why else would I come now of all times?”

Rubick sputtered for a moment until he surmised that he was in no immediate danger, as he slunk back into his chair. “I should’ve known...your abilities as an Oracle must have surmised the same conclusion as I...at any rate, h-how did you get in here?”



The Oracle chuckled, his metallic, golden-blue robes rustling as he floated in place, looking like some sort of ethereal spectre just barely clinging to the physical realm. His inhuman lips curled into a imperturbable grin, both malicious and benevolent. “You should know not to ask, “how,” in my presence...and I’m afraid, I’m not here over something so, mundane.”

“Hmmph...I’d ask you to have a seat but you seem rather comfortable as you are…” he sighed. “Knowing your abilities this goes against my better judgement...but my curiosity is piqued. What do you speak of? I certainly hope you’re not here to set your dog Mordred upon me like last time.”

“Fate is a fickle mistress, Magus,” whispered the Oracle, averting his gaze to some indefinite point in the middle distance. “After all, it was you who tried to end me first, was it, not? Surely, some self-defense was...necessitated.”

Rubick smiled under his war mask as his initial shock began to subside. “Indeed. Couldn’t be helped considering the circumstances.” He drummed the fingers of his gloved hands on his desk as he tilted his head to one side. “But I imagine you’re here to take vengeance upon me with prophecy now?”

“Mmmm, well,” the Oracle melodically hummed, “much like any, interpretation of the future, it all depends on, how you see it.” With a twitch of his thumbs, he idly spun the orb floating between his hands that shone an otherworldly light into the study. “Why not indulge me and find out?”

The Magus bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment, in thought. But it didn’t take long for the curiosity that defined him to answer for him. “Very well,” he replied.

The Oracle turned his bulbous eyes to the sorcerer and bowed his head in return. “Then I shall waste no time standing on ceremony.” He drew closer as he turned his head to the orb in his hands, directing its movements as he began to descry his prophecy through it. “I came because unlike any I have met, your future is a most singularly interesting one...one that you yourself have been uninformed of until now. You have reached the peak of what this world can offer...but another beckons you...sends you an invitation…” He once again smiled his inscrutable grin as he looked at the Magus “that you cannot refuse.”

Rubick gripped the desk tightly as he considered the words; one conclusion above all leapt to his mind. “Death comes for me, doesn’t it.”

At this the Oracle burst out in inhuman laughter. “I expected more of you Magus...typical of humanity to always dread that which comes inevitably...I already told you that your future was singularly interesting. What’s so singularly interesting, about death?”

Rubick once again got up from his seat, leaning towards the Oracle as he gripped his desk ever-tighter “But...what else is there? I must know, I must be prepared...and this responsibility, the Dead God must be-”

The Oracle waved his hand to silence him as he spoke again. “I have told you all that my prophecy can provide...you will learn the rest soon enough. And as I recall...I thought this position had already left you dead within? Huhu…this is not where you belong, Rubick, however suited for the job you are...”

At this, all Rubick could do was remain silent, staring away from the incorporeal figure before him as he sat down, in deep rumination.

With a final smile, the Oracle turned towards the door of his study. “I’ll see myself out, shall I?”

“Hm-hm…” he muttered as he drifted through the doorframe, shutting it behind him to leave the Magus with his thoughts. As he phased out of his existence in one of the many possible realities of Rubick’s quarters in the Tower of the Society, he looked once again into the spinning, discerning orb that had divined the Magus’s future.

“So it goes…”

_________________________________________________
(pertinent how and when here)

Rubick eventually looked up from his stupor about twenty minutes after the Oracle left, not surprised to see that the specter had vanished. He attempted to shrug off the mysterious prophecy he had just been given as he looked down at the letter he was supposed to be writing, still left unfinished. He grasped his quill pen tightly, a chunk of feather crumpling in his vice-like grip. He continued to write, more slowly and deliberately; but how could he? He had been given far too much to think about within these past few minutes. His mind still dwelled upon the future, and his normally haphazard script was suffering as a result. With a sigh, he dropped his pen and held his head in his hands. This was impossible in his state of mind.

He eventually got up and walked to the window, displacing the drapes as a shaft of raw moonlight filtered in through the glass, which doubled as a door to the outside balcony. Without delay he threw open these doors open, letting the cool, night wind permeate his vestments. He needed some fresh air to clear his mind.

But as his head twitched, turning his head from the starry skies to the view of the grounds of the tower before him, his mind felt once again clouded. These were his to protect. Even the mages within it, most of whom had attempted to kill the Magus more than once, were still like sons and daughters to him. Immature children that required his leadership and presence to direct their untapped potential. But this prophecy changed all of that; whether in a few years, months, or hours, he could most undoubtedly be gone. The Society would be defenseless. His vast stores of knowledge, everything he and his unending curiosity had sought to work for in this life, would become ash upon the wind. And if the Dead God was growing as powerful as he had hypothesized, even the Society would fall without effective guidance. Meanwhile, the Insubstantial Eleven were just that: insubstantial, incorporeal. They barely had one foot in reality, the other firmly lodged in a higher plane of existence. All they were to the Society could be summed up as being a mere collection of dictionaries and grimoires. What could they possibly do!?

Once again, he held his head in one hand, slamming the banister with another. Fear and worry surged into his being again. So much so that he didn't notice the light of the moon seem to grow substantially brighter. He looked up, seeing it fall upon him without warning. All Rubick could make out with his shock-widened eyes was a singular, strange form from within. Before his brain could even process it, the light had consumed him.

Then all was black.[/spoiler]

__________________________________________________________


Semi-fitting Theme Song (seeing as this glorious bastard doesn't already have one of his own)

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

Starting Proficiencies:

• Ranged Proficiency (1000 OM)

• Ranged Materialize Proficiency (600 OM)

• Remote Control Proficiency (600 OM)

• Physical Strength (1000 OM)

• Staff of the Magus (300 OM; Physical Strength)

• Rubick's staff, with an outer layer of a black, hard, metallic wood called ebonthe, possesses a cylindrical core that contains the raw essence of Rubick's magical power. It stands at about five feet tall, with a thickness such as that a human being can comfortably grasp it in one or both hands. A green substance somewhere between that of a liquid and a solid is suspended within the interior, pooling at the top of the staff in a fashion similar to that of candle wax, a byproduct of the many incantations he uses intermingled with his own signature form of arcane energy. While it may look outwardly fragile, ebonthe is by nature a tough wood, and its structure has been enhanced by a number of different charms and incantations. After a particularly unfortunate duel that nearly cost him his life early on in his training, Rubick came to realize that having his staff break in the middle of combat was a very real possibility, whether through a stray bolt of energy or a sudden attack with a blade. He therefore not only reinforced his staff in this manner, but also learned how to wield it as a melee weapon. When used as such, the staff can be used to block and/or deflect blades and fists. It can also be used to inflict blunt force trauma when swung hard enough, or knock the wind out of someone with a good thrust to the stomach, but usually the most it does is cause bruising.

• Arcane Bolt (600 OM, Ranged Proficiency)

• Being a Magus of the highest calibre, Rubick's staff is of course not merely used for bashing the heads of would-be assailants. It also provides a source of power for his main attack. This attack can be cast instantaneously as a bolt of neon green, scouring energy. It can also be charged for up to ten seconds, the volume and attack strength of the energy bolt increasing, speed slightly decreasing, as it gains power within his staff. Being struck with a bolt such as this inflicts a burning sensation, and, depending on the size of the bolt, can feel like getting hit with a quick a jab at its weakest, or a freight train at its most powerful. This bolt can be cast instantaneously without the use of the staff, however the charged version of any amount of time beyond one second of the bolt requires the staff to use properly. However, there are limits to this power: successive casts of weaker versions of the bolt will leave Rubick fatigued, and a fully charged Arcane Bolt will leave him utterly exhausted, meaning he must take time to regain his strength.

• Telekinetic Repulse (300 OM, Telekinesis, Ranged Proficiency, Remote Control Proficiency, Ranged Materialize Proficiency)

• A simple exercise in Rubick's telekinetic power, this ability allows the Magus to take a single target, Prime or otherwise, and fling it away from him. This move is invisible to all, except Primes with enhanced senses or a TEC stat greater than half of Rubick's; otherwise, the attack will appear to be a fast-moving wave of green energy, and will feel like being slammed with a wall of water, sans the wetness. The strength of this slam depends on the distance the target is from Rubick: at maximum range (30 meters), this ability will feel like a light slap felt on the target's abdomen, barely noticeable. At 20 meters, this ability can become effectively disruptive, enough to knock the target off his/her feet. At 10 meters, the target will be genuinely pushed back, and all but the most stable or nimble will find their footing completely dismantled. At point blank, this ability is a devastating concussive force, enough to cause bruising or internal injury to those without strong DEF compared to Rubick's ATK. In addition, the target will be unerringly sent flying away from the Magus regardless of the target's DEF, unless the target can somehow create distance between him/herself and Rubick before the cast time ends. The flight will take the target at least 10 meters away from him before the momentum provided by the telekinetic attack ceases. When combined with a wall, large rock, etc, close enough to Rubick, this attack can be even more damaging.
  
  This attack requires for Rubick to set aside a second of concentration in order to charge the Repulse's power with his mind. Any less, and the attack will simply fizzle out. It also requires a gesture with his hand to direct his mental energies (an outwards-facing palm, usually), meaning if his arms are bound or otherwise incapacitated, he cannot perform the attack.

[Posted by Anonymous]

Alright, let's get straight to the point.

TL;DR: There's this Nealaphh thing on the Bounty board. I'm looking for people who want to take it down. You guys that are up for killing/banishing a murdering and kidnapping eldritch shadow-thing, put some contact details here. I'm sure we can work something out.

Slightly Longer Version: Nealaphh has (allegedly) killed Camelot troops, assaulted Stormtroopers, killed a Big Daddy (which is apparently some kind of genetically altered human with a drill-arm, if what I found on here is accurate) and kidnapped a Little Sister (which is a young girl that's also been genetically altered and can harvest something called ADAM. Basically, it's like a bad science fiction movie) along with any other crimes that it didn't leave witnesses for. While I'm sure some of you aren't interested in bounty hunting (in which case why the hell are you looking at this, exactly?) I think that a lot of people would like to see this thing dead or banished for blatant murder and kidnapping, regardless.