Memories...

Not the first time he'd been without them. Roger Smith was a man from a world that had lost its memories, after all. Forty years of confused cluelessness, barely getting by by uncovering fragments of past memories and intuiting how the world they had left worked. All locked inside a bunch of bubbles, and the lands surrounding them...Paradigm City. That had been an ugly, confusing mess. The ones in power, sometimes with no idea how they'd even gotten there, stayed there. The ones who were downtrodden, poor and broken, oftentimes with just as little idea how or why they were in such a state, remained that way.

A sad, miserable state of affairs...but at least one that everyone could unanimously enough agree on must have always been that way. The less questions that were asked, the less confusion and inevitable aches in both head and heart would come about. It was awful, but it was the way it was. The way the world worked, inside the domes of Paradigm City. It was stable, and steady enough. Almost no improvement, no real chance of returning to how things had been before whatever world-shaking event had robbed so many of their memories. Though at the same time, the downward spiral had been slowed, almost halted according to some sources.

It wasn't pretty, but it worked. It made sense.

...which was more than Roger Smith could say about this new sequence of events unfolding before his eyes.

A white expanse stretched out before his eyes, on into a distant horizon. He couldn't tell how far exactly, distances had never been his forte really. If he had to hazard a guess, maybe...half a dozen miles or so. Possible more. Probably more. It was featureless, making it even harder to make out any real details, which only added to his consternation. All he could see were small little things, which looked almost evenly spaced in some kind of circle.

"...all centered on you." Roger's voice was laced with a hefty dose of confusion and curiosity as he brought his stare to fixate on the one object he could see. "Middle of nowhere....no solid scenery around. Like being inside a cloud...or in a dream." He took a step forward, lifted a hand from his pocket and brought it to rest on the rim of the fountain. He frowned slightly, brushing his gloved fingers along and pulling them back, only to find a thick layer of dust as he turned them toward his eyes. "Old...probably long abandoned." He rubbed his fingers together, staring at the dust. "Can't even come up with nice scenery in a dream..." he finally muttered, pulling a handkerchief from a pocket with his free hand and cleaning the dust from his fingers.

As he stowed the cloth away again, he returned his hands to the pockets of his coat, craning his neck back to look up at the fountain. Tall; very much so. Maybe two stories, in its prime, when it was whole and complete. Now it was just a weathered, broken shadow of its original glory. A tall spire, with many layers and small basins and pools to collect water as it flowed down, spilling out into those below it. At its top, a humanoid figure, crouched and holding...something. What might have been an umbrella, before it had been broken off. Now it just sat there, hunkered down, the features on its face worn off and eroded. A wide, empty basin at the bottom, which had been its primary pool. Only a few loose sticks and leaves, dried and long dead to the point of crumbling and wilting to dust even under the weight of a passing stare, were all that lay in it now. No water; instead they just floated in dust and sadness.

Roger sighed and shook his head. Getting poetic in his wandering thoughts...

"Don't suppose you could tell me what's going on here, huh?" he spoke aloud again, his eyes resting on the worn face of the fountain's figurehead. No response came, of course. No sound at all came. Not even the usual whispering of wind that would have accompanied such a melancholy sight.

It managed to draw a sigh from him after a handful of seconds as his gaze dropped again. "Yeah...didn't think so." He turned around, his back to the fountain, and lowered himself down to sit on the rim. "Just what...is going on here...?"

Welcome to Dante's Abyss Pre-Registration.

For starters, this is not a requirement to participate.  If you opt to not pre-register, you can still register normally, IC, when that window opens.  Pre-Registration is non-binding, in the event that something happens and you decide to switch characters or pull out entirely.

"How do I pre-register, Karl?"

As stated, this is simply OOC, but to pre-register you must fulfill the following requirements.

1. Have updated 'Roster' and 'Purchase Log' links in your postbit
2. Have an up-to-date Roster
3. Add (if you don't have one) a section to your roster detailing your prime's Personality
4. Add (if you don't have one) a section to your roster detailing how your prime acts in combat.  I don't want to use the generic term "Fight Style" section, because this should be more than just how they throw fists or shot guns or use wibbly-wobbly nonsense.  Building off of the Personality section, how do they act in combat situations?  Sneaky?  Tactical? Avoidance-heavy?
(Both of these sections are to help other writers better understand your characters, because there will be flubs, they happen.  Roll with the punches, though)

Once you have completed steps 1 through 5, you post here, with the account and the name of the character you plan to use.  Remember, if you are joining as an NPC, you must go through ALL the steps to get them approved before you come here. 

"Why pre-register, Karl?"

The first six individuals who properly register will receive a prize.  Those people were Yu Kanda, Gilgamesh, Marisa, Lord Zedd, Ash, and Clownpiece. Those six individuals have the one-time ability to select their Fight Area in any round other than the 1st Round (where all Fight Areas are generic), the Grand Finals (the last 2v2 fight), or the Grand Championship.

Please ask anyone questions about this process in the DAQQ thread, and leave this thread simply for pre-registrants.

Almost felt like home again, now. After so much work.

Nostalgia wasn't something Albert Wesker was given to often, but as he sat there in a chair which he remembered all too clearly, in a room drawn perfectly from his memories...it was difficult not to reminisce at least a little. Not exactly pleasantly, as the times from which he had drawn this place in his mind were not ones he recalled fondly. Not after certain things he had learned from an old, dying man.

But it was familiar. And now it was his.

It had been far from easy to get it all set up. Even after substantial practice, working with this new...omnilium substance. He had summoned, and practiced summong, all manner of things. Even going so far as to gather a loyal band of subordinates whose skills he knew he could count on. Each one individually, and all of their preferred equipment and tools of work, had been a heavy undertaking. A valuable one, to be sure; it had taught him much about the complexity of things and how time-consuming it could all be.

It had all been nothing compared to the task he had undertaken when he had decided to summon this mansion.

Each member of the Wolfpack, each item of their equipment, had taken minutes at a time. Perhaps as much as half an hour each, to properly summon them and their equipment, properly outfitting each one.

This mansion, however... Several hours. It had taken hours to get it right. The complications and interference had not helped matters. The environment was hostile, full of all manner of creatures which most might dub 'nightmarish'. Monstrous, horrific, bloodthirsty and flesh-hungry beasts. Mostly mindless, though some did certainly display intelligence enough to not throw themselves into the meat grinder that was the amply prepared and armed Wolfpack.

The Umbrella Security Service's Delta Team had proven its worth already, with just this seemingly mundane task. Several hours of protection, and holding off the terror of the Verse, had been sufficient. Now they had been rewarded by having sanctuary and shelter in the mansion. Time to rest after the frantic, messy defense, and leave the external security to a more...disposable staff which had been summoned. Combined with the fortified nature of the building itself -- a noted factor in its original summoning time -- they should serve as adequate protection.

Yes...a well-fortified headquarters was always a first step. Or at least the ending of a first step. Learning how this world worked and some of the peculiarities of its inhabitants had been first; setting up a place to call 'home' had been the final part of that, to reflect on and clarify his findings. And of course...a place to story a trophy room was also an excellent touch.

As the lights dimmed upon his exit of the trophy room in question, barren and empty at the moment, Wesker's lips curled upward in a faint smile as he caught the glint of light, filtering through the doorway, on the drake skull that rested in a sealed case. Just the first step of many. Then the door closed behind him, and he strode purposefully down the hallway.

Onto other matters, now.

The sun bounced endlessly off the freshly fallen snow, the evidence of winter's close seemed to become more and more apparent. “Life and death, all things belong to our mistress Meistra. Even thy seasons, winter is death, and spring, life. I walk the cusp between both. Alone, and unwavering.” a small voice could barely be heard over the sounds of the wind blowing through the snow covered trees. The sturdy oak trees stood as a simple but meaningful symbol for the young woman, the strong limbs provided the wood for her simple long bow, the heartwood of the sturdy tree had always been the core of each weapon she had. Even her shadow name had been based on the tree. Everything about the tree was symbolic to her and those in her inner circle, and yet now the same trees that she coveted so much also provided cover for her prey.

The crunch of snow underfoot combined with the creak of her leather pants was hardly noticeable over the ambient noise. The sound of bucks calling for their doe’s filled the gaps of silence with each passing step. Carefully stepping over the knobby roots of the stalwart trees. She knew the dangers of even such a simple journey. The roads were wrought with bandits, cutpurses and even natural hazards. However even now she knew nothing of fear as she looked on each tree with varying degrees of familiarity. She had strode through these woods numerous times exploring each and every location, studying every single rock. The dyed leather armor she wore nearly blended in seamlessly with the fallen snow creating the illusion of a hooded whisp moving through the snow. She had always maintained a deep appreciation for working her craft in the snow, the perfect white made for the best concealment and the deep hood helped keep her identity concealed but also served to help keep her long hair from interfering with her task . Her target was not far she could feel it deep in her bones.

Carefully pulling the bow from her back and sliding one of the wicked forked arrows out from the quiver on her waist. The simple weapon was perfect for her purpose “Slowly, calmly,” she thought to herself as she nocked the vile arrow on her string. Pulling tightly with the first three fingers on her left hand she felt the bow bend as it built resistance to her draw. She held the bow at its full draw, her capable muscles holding tight, unwavering. A light breeze blew through the trees as she stood taking careful aim at her unwary target. Hints of condensation exited her nose as it mingled with the frigid air forming and then dissipating as the wind blew it away. She used it as a guide helping her judge how the wind would affect the arrow. As with every kill, this had to be perfect lest her target take off through the woods and elude her.

With practiced calm she released her breath, leaving her lungs empty and with a single motion, loosed her grip on the bowstring. She felt the string snap against her forearm as it propelled the deadly projectile towards its target. A loud “Thud” broke the silence as it confirmed she had hit her target. Taking a moment to inhale once more, she swung her bow carefully back around and made sure that the strong oak weapon was resting firmly on her back. Taking a moment to glimpse around her to make sure there was no one stalking her. When she felt confident there were no peeping eyes around her she strode towards her mark confidently but with every hair standing on end as if looking for the slightest change.

Blood stained the snow as it flowed freely from the twin wounds. Taking her knife from its sheath at her side she bent over and began cutting away at the neck. There was no ceremony, no prayer offered, Just what had to be done. Blood spurted up as the knife bit deep into the thick neck severing tissue and muscle with ease, Blood glistened on her gloves creating a vivid contrast to the soft dull white leather.

The bag with the head in it was exceptionally unwieldy, still she took no time carefully retracing her steps back from whence she came. As she carefully stepped along she made sure to keep an eye on her surroundings, it was not uncommon for bandits to patrol the area, especially with the sun nearing its low point in the sky above. Dark clouds held off in the distance creeping their way over the ridge of the Keplan mountain range to the west. “More snow be coming” she mumbled under her breath as she hefted the bloody bag over her back, she had plenty of time to clean her armor after she got back within the town walls. She could tell she was going to be back to the thick stone walls soon however she also was well aware that no matter how swiftly she reached the walls she was not going to make it before the thick wooden drawbridge was raised for the night.

She halted her progress near the forest’s edge, the sun had finished its daily descent over the horizon, and sister moon had made her appearance in the night sky. The stars dazzled brilliantly overhead spanning the dark sky, The dark clouds from earlier that day had seemed to flow through with little pause leaving a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. She knew she had to find shelter or at least make a fire, however with all the snow finding tinder to start the flames would prove difficult. Still even now caught between winter and spring she knew she would be risking her own death if she couldn't find warmth within the next few hours.

Once again, the strong oak tree’s provided the answer to her dilemma as she chipped at the bark of one of the larger oak tree’s with her knife. She felt remorseful to use the knife in such a way but it was her own fault that she was out stuck in the middle of the night. Cursing her own persistence in going on this foolish hunt she got to work with some flint to get the damp bark lit. It took her only a few tried to get a spark in the bark strong enough to build a fire. She carefully blew on the small ember as it began to grow. Not long after she had a full fire going, huddled over the small flame she carefully kept the melting snow at bay while it grew. Adding just enough bark to make the fire large enough to keep her body warm. She knew all too well she was not going to get much sleep this night having to tend the flame as often as she did. Inside her mind she could picture how wonderful of a setting this would be for bandits, but unless they were half as stubborn as she was she knew they would not be out and about “There be none who would find profit in accosting me this night” she mumbled as she watched the fire blazed in front of her. The Flickering flames danced before her while she mused on this latest kill.

The darkness of the night was slow and drawn out, the sounds of predatory animals in the distance kept her alert, even though the fire was small it was providing enough illumination for her to see the yellow eyes glaring at her from just beyond the trees. She struggled to hold off sleep, her mind awash with worry, for she knew that if these animals came after her, no matter how fast her blade was and no matter how true her blade hit, she was but one person, and all it took was one bite, one claw to create untold problems for her. Madness wounds seemed to be commonplace, the bites festered creating wounds that would create a fever that seemed to cause the stricken one to lose his mind, often attacking even those he loved before succumbing to the fever himself.

The call of wolves calling to their pack, jolted her awake, she had managed to sneak a few moments of rest however it had cost her much of her fire, the small flame remaining had to be tended carefully to keep it from dieing out. The smell of the smoldering oak bark was a small comfort to her, knowing that morning was fast approaching she steeled herself for the next few hours. The rustling of plants around her made her skin crawl, each passing moment her attention was pulled from one sound to another. She knew she could be overreacting, but with the ever looming threat of getting the sickness from the animals around her she opted on the side of caution. She kept the palm of her hand resting firmly on the pommel of the long blade on her side, ready to draw it should she find there be need. The tense standoff seemed to drag on without end, until finally the glaring yellow eyes seemed to go off in search of easier prey. Even so, her eyes continued to scan the trees around her watching, and waiting.

The eyes seemed to fade in and out of view as her eyes closed and opened time and time again.

“Elizabeth Vi Laticar, you have interested me, as such you are here now. My name is Omni.”

It took Elizabeth a moment to wrap her mind around what she was seeing, one moment she was in a forest the dead of night on the verge of being devoured, another she now stood amidst this blackness that consumed all light, and yet before her was a grinning figure robed in white.

Her mouth opened to ask the strange creature questions, words failed, even the effort of moving her mouth was impossible. What or whoever this Omni was, seemed to be able to break even the most devout of Meistras followers. She would need to be careful.

In the span of one blink everything shifted, the lonely black void was gone replaced with the clean look of white, white everywhere. It was like hiding in the snow, her white leather armor and hood blended in even now. Though anyone who would look at the young woman would see nothing more than a primitive looking woman.

To: Candy guard captain of Nippur
From: The Lordliest Lord to ever Lord

Ok so I was wrong as it turns out, it was the baker. So I want your guards to storm the place, have them secure everyone else and then you come in, I will try to struggle but I want you to cut off my hand, yes you read that right, preferably a clean cut with your fake sword. I ask that you put the Baker and I in the same cell, but do slip me a key into my back pouch (the leather one, not that kind you flirt ) I will then find out the names of everyone involved and we can salt the land that this potential coup is growing on!

Love, Your best frenemy Victor Wolfe!

CHARACTER NAME: Ricter Casenger

CHARACTER SOURCE: OC

CHARACTER HISTORY: Ricter’s universe is that of old fairy tails and foke lore, where princesses get woken up by kisses and animals talking is fairly the norm. However in this setting it was a lot less cheerful and more so realistic, if that couldn’t be contrary enough, regardless Ricter was the pet of seemingly a small girl. One that took fairly good care of him and ensured he was well fed, petted, and well just about anything you can do with a weasel. But as the girl grew up she began to dabble in magic, getting better at it in secret away from her parents, even becoming so good she enrolled in many classes and things of that nature. After some years the weasel had gotten old, fairly close to death while his master had managed to become a lovely young woman, capable of many feats and skills.
 
However she didn’t wish to let her companion go, with the use of a ritual that was exclusive to witches he was made into a familiar, a creature enhanced with the power of magic and made to do the bidding of his summoner or master. Starting out small at first he was granted some symbolance of a body to halt the aging process, and even learned to use tools and skills humans could do, in a funny away she was now helping him to grow up. But word would begin to spread about a witch in the village, which scared the woman, knowing they had meant her as her rituals and many somewhat illegal crafts had gained the ire of those who would due to stop it.
 
By this time he had gained the ability to use weapons, which she would bestow on him a sword by the name of Lanor. It was a weapon to allow him to heal others and cut those he didn’t like, it was made so he could protect her and so he did. When the night of the raid happened both his witch companion and himself were ready, he’d avoid fighting but work to defend his friend against any dangers, they brought many people with pitch forks and spears, some even having magic of their own too. In the end though they escaped, though damaged and injured, he managed to heal them both and they got away.
 
Years would follow and he’d be more so an adult again, capable of speaking as well as human-like interactions too. He’d live somewhat contently with his witch of a master, enjoying banter, company and over all he was happy and so was she. Though one day she would have him go out to fetch some herbs for her, she had planned a nice celebration for her 122nd birthday party and she didn’t want to make it as bland as last year. So he would go out and try to get them, however instead of finding herbs he found a simple rift in the space of a tree, pretty typical given shes done way more interesting things before. So with curiosity baring his mind he would simple go through, wondering what was on the other side, but little did he know that he’d be dumped into the Nexus, far from his own world.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Ricter is a short statuesque weasel with white fur covering his mouth leading down to his stomach, while the rest of his body is covered in tan fur. With a slim build and rounded ears he has brown colored paw pads and a large poofy tail, the fur on it being grown out over the years. Height wise he is quite larger than a normal critter, being well around 5’8, though also being at around168 lb he stands about as tall as an average human, while opting to wearing simple clothing like shirts, jeans, and what ever he thinks would be nice. But mostly just a simple red shirt over a green one and brown jean pants, he opts to go bare footed almost all the time.

STATS:
ATK: 1
DEF:  4
SPD: 3
TEC: 2

STARTING PROFICIENCIES:

Physical Strength – 1000 OM

STARTING POWERS:
 
Healing - 3000 OM

STARTING MOVES:

Lanor: (600 OM) [Requires Physical , Healing]
Is a 4’7”ft long, 5 inch width, double edged broad sword that has a stainless steel look to it with a brown handle and cross-guard, being balanced in speed and weight. After a five second channel time the blade can be toggled too close small wounds of any living things it slices, leaving non painful glowing gashes that mend small cuts on the body and vanish after contact with the blade has ended. After another five second channel it may return to a normal blade, the blade cannot damage or harm any organic targets while charged and it behaves normally to metal contact.
 
I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct.
 
I have read and agree to the rules of conduct.

Where did you find us?
 
A friend. (Who got credited for it already)

"Ooof!" grunted Captain Marvelous as he unceremoniously landed on the featureless white surface of the Nexus. Taking a moment to stand up and look around, the young man rubbed the back of his head and tried to get his head around what just happened. Certainly it was a lot of handle all at once.

The Zangyack had come to Earth. Their spaceships blotted out the sky. Armies of Goumin footsoldiers rained down from magnetic lines and began to wash over the surface of the Earth. The Gokai-Oh was destroyed, laying in pieces around them. With his friends at his side Marvelous felt he could not be defeated, they had destroyed the Gigant Horse battleship and killed Warz Gil, the Emperor's only son. But now, slowly walking over the horizon, was Ackdos Gil, the Emperor himself.

The fight was a massacre. The Gokaiger used every trick 35 sentai could muster, but it was still not enough. The Emperor laughed off their greatest attacks, no-sold their desperate final moves and then began to smile as he returned the favor. His allies bled, their transformations shattered under the Emperor's bare hands. A horrible monster in appearance, Ackdos Gil didn't need his massive military to conquer worlds, with his own personal power he could destroy star systems. And it was this terrible power that he unleashed upon the Gokaiger now.

Luka. Joe. Doc. Ahim. Dead? Marvelous wasn't sure. All he saw was red as he launched his mad final assault. And then all he saw was white ...

Omni had summoned him. 

For whatever it was worth the mysterious deity gave Marvelous all the information he would need to survive here, in this new realm of existence. For whatever it was worth, Marvelous was dropped off at the Fountain in the Nexus, newborn and powerless. 


Yes, powerless. Marvelous checked his belt .... no Ranger Keys. He checked his pockets and there was no Mobirates cell phone to use them with. He could not transform. He didn't even have his gun or sword. He was defenseless, felt as weak as a baby, more confused than a drunkard, and more than a little angry. On the upside he was unharmed. Ackdos Gil's attacks had been healed, or he had been placed into a new body, Marvelous couldn't be sure. He growled to himself before cursing the name of Omni under his breath. 

He didn't know what to expect. All around him was white. As above, so below. In the distance he could see tiny specks that he assumed were gateways to get out of here. But where would he go? What was the purpose? Where was he headed and why should he care? He wasn't GokaiRed, he wasn't a Gokaiger. He was just the same hungry urchin of the spaceways AkaRed had adopted all those years ago.

What had he been looking for when he snuck aboard that red space ship so many years ago. He had been just a child, hungry and in need. He would have been happy to just stowaway and go with these pirates wherever they went, but the gleam of the treasure chest had caught the young Marvelous' eyes. Inside were Ranger Keys, though he knew not at that time what they were or what they would do. Rather than being punished, when AkaRed found the little thief he commended him for his skill and guile and offered him a position on his crew. That was how Marvelous had joined the Red Pirates, that was how he had met his adopted father, the mysterious AkaRed, and that was how he had met his once friend and now eternal enemy Basco ta Jolokia.

He couldn't even think of the name without clenching his fist so hard he bled. Tiny drops fell upon the white nothingness before drying away. The strange image woke Marvelous from his reverie. Now was not the time for flashbacks, now was the time to get walking. The tiny specks all seemed the same distance and all seemed to be hours away. Nothing more that he could do then just walk and be alone with his thoughts.

Well, there was something else he could do. Hadn't Omni said something about being able to conjure things from nothing? Or from something he knew nothing about at least, Omnilium. He was a good half hour closer to his destination when he decided to stop and try it. What he wanted was his Mobirates and his Ranger Keys. With those he wouldn't be such easy pickings for whatever monsters this Omniverse was sure to contain. He pictured them in his mind, the large folding cell phone, the two Keys he had the most familiarity with. He wished he could summon all 199 of them in a single go but he imagined that would be beyond his capabilities at this point.

So he stopped. And he thought. And he wished.

Energy crackled around him, forming a ball in front of him.

It's working, he thought. Then he grit his teeth. Need to finish.

With effort he could picture the items forming within the rainbow sphere. It was amazing that it was nothing but his own will shaping this strange phenomenon, but before he could stop to consider exactly how this was possible the sphere cracked and shattered. The black and red cell phone dropped into his right hand while two red Ranger Keys dropped into his other. 

Marvelous laughed. This was amazing. The two keys he had conjured had been that of GokaiRed, his own personal token of power, and that of AkaRanger, the very first leader of the very first sentai to protect the Earth. The first and the last, alpha and omega. Red upon red. Marvelous quickly regained his composure, avoiding another fit of whooping for joy before someone spotted him and came to him. He didn't need extra attention, not now. 

He walked for another half hour before the white light all around began to bug his eyes. Though he didn't usually wear one, the next thing Marvelous created from Omnilium was a broad rim pirate captain's hat. He placed it on his head when it was fully formed.

"I could get used to this," he said to himself. He realized he wasn't used to being alone. He needed friends, nakama, someone to help him out. He was a good captain but what was a captain without a crew? Marvelous didn't know. What was a Gokaiger without a sentai? Marvelous would have to find out. He continued to walk, to brood, and to plan his next move.

This was a whole new world and it was filled with surprises Marvelous couldn't even fathom.

Peter Pocket Pocket reached the door of his T5 gang house, his pocket pockets stuffed full of groceries.

“It's me, open up!” He shouted as he kicked the sturdy metal door of the repurposed storage unit. The door rolled up slightly, and an eye peaked out from under the crack.

“Password?” Came a deep voice from within the unit. 

“You're looking right at me, Jimbo, I don't need to give the password.” Pete said for what must have been the hundredth time.

“You could be a shape shifter.”

“For fu-... Pocket pockets forever, Senzu beans for never!” The gang leader cried unenthusiastically.

“Again, this time with feeling!” The voice replied.

“Jimbo!”

“Okay, okay. I'm just trying to have fun with it, y’know?” Jimbo said as he rolled up the unit door.

“Thank you, Jimbo, I appreciate it, but sometimes I just want to get inside.” Pete said as he walked past the nearly 8 foot tall half-ogre, a trait which earned him the name ‘Big Jimbo’. The other two members of the pocket pocket pickpockets sat at the far end of the unit, playing Dataverse video games on their small TV. To the left was skeevy Kevin, the pickpockets’ hacker who Pete swore up and down was just a giant rat who wore clothes, despite everyone telling him the contrary. Pete wanted to believe that Kevin was a real person, not an oversized rodent, but one look at his beady eyes and oversized front teeth and he knew the truth.

To the right was Azgaroth the indomitable, or Az for short, a reptilian alien who was a ruthless, bloodthirsty warlord at the head of a galaxy crushing armada, or so he says, before discovering that oxygen made him incredibly stoned without any noticeable side effects. It was too hard to tell when he was telling the truth, and when he was describing a vivid hallucination, so the other gangsters took his story with a grain of salt.

“Az. AZ! Help me out, dude, I'm downed!” Kevin screeched at the alien through his headset, despite the fact that they were sitting right next to each other.

“Dude, we’re all downed by life. We just gotta climb our way back up, y’know?” Azgaroth said, adjusting his grip on the controller as he tried not to tear it to pieces with his claws. 

“That wasn't even stoner deep, I could read that shit in the blurb of a kids book!” Kevin hissed before slamming his controller to the ground, smashing it apart. “SHIT, they got me!" 

Pete rolled his eyes and dumped his groceries, mostly non-perishables which could be cooked in their simple microwave, as Kevin struggled out of his beanbag to grab a new controller, ignoring Az gunning down everyone he saw in whatever shooter they got this month. Pete swore those two spent more money on video games than everything else combined. Jimbo shut the unit door, plunging the already dim unit into darkness, lit only by the glow of the TV, and by the high voltage floodlight illuminated a framed picture of a pocket pocket.

“The light broken again?” Pete asked as he took a sip of warm soda, motioning to the single lamp in the far corner of the room. Jimbo nodded, shooting a glance at the pair playing video games.

“Call me paranoid, but I think Kevin keeps breaking it on purpose.” The half-ogre said, rubbing his chin as he squinted suspiciously at the hacker.

“He probably is. Rats love the dark.” Pete said, dumping his disposable cup in their tiny wastepaper bin.

“Pete, Kevin isn-”

“You’ll see it one day! Then who’ll be laughing, huh? No one, because this knowledge is both a blessing and a curse.” The gang leader said, receiving an uncomfortable look from Jimbo. 

“So, hear anything interesting on the street?” Jimbo said, trying to change the subject.

“I did, actually.” Pete said, a smug look crossing his face. “Got word of some Senzu Bean Bandits that are gonna be passing through here tonight. Got a big ambush planned, if you guys are up for it.”

“Up for it? Hahaha, we’re always ready to bust some SBB skulls.” Big Jimbo boomed, laughing heartily. 

“Did someone mention Senzu Bean Bandits?” Kevin said, he and Az taking off their headsets to listen. “You know we’ll be there.”

“Sweet.” Pete said. “They're gonna be passing under the bridge just south of here, apparently they're going to be doing a bean deal.” 

At the mention of a bean deal, gasps of shock and disgust came from the other pickpockets. Kevin even retched as he held back vomit. 

“I know, I know, that's why we're gonna stop it. We'll move into position in a few hours. But until then, move over, I wanna play.”

Quote:Somewhere on the messageboards of the Dataverse, a new thread shows up three days after the phenomenon that the Dataverse community has taken to calling "Frozen Fields light" has been observed. The poster's avatar has been replaced with an image of the light pillar shooting up into the sky, but a little digging through their post history shows that they are - or used to be? - a fairly unseeming troll living in an outpost of Zul'gurand.