It's coming soon.

Yes in the near future myself and the buddy will fight.

Rules:
Words per post: 600-700
Time: We will probably have most of this prewritten by the time it happens(School is coming)
Random BullShit: OK
Judge: That is exactly why this post was created.

We are allowed to pick our judge out of whoever wants to judge. THIS CAN BE STAFF OR NON STAFF

We are looking for a fast judge once we post so that we can keep going. Non biased.

We are looking for either a Staff memeber, Horsemen memeber, or a neutral party.

Those wanting to judge this, staff, or memebers post here

A wincing memory flashed before her eyes. An image of that face, his face. That stupidly courageous idiot that had died for her. Utterly stupid because she was a Prime. Completely idiotic because it was noble and one of the kindest things a friend had done for her, yet he was even a stranger. Courageous because he was able to hold a smile even as he faced his own death.

Now the stupidly courageous idiot may even haunt her for the rest of her eternal life! Why did it have to be now? Now that she felt as though she accomplished so much and was finally on the right track to her freedom? Freedom, what a joke. Caira told herself. It’s time to realize it is something I’ll never have. These conflicting ideas confronted Caira as she was set to grimace and ponder upon the distinctions of the past. Caira was now an established bounty hunter under the shadowed alias ‘Ayryn’, which would soon be a title to identify the girl with the glowing violet eyes in the Kingdom of Camelot. Minas Tirith was talking. Abuzz with gossip and fear.

Apparently, after her and TBG had dropped off Magus in the Minas Tirith castle-prison, he had somehow broken free. It had even baffled the guards, as they had locked down the cellblock for the night and in the morning, the door was left wide open. Flauntingly open. It was as though someone had given him the key.

Toybox Girl had left to hunt bounties, after inviting Caira, who declined the offer as an optimist who seemed to prefer the hopeful idea of redemption.

The strange librarian had dropped cues about how she was to ameliorate herself into a better Prime and later she promised herself she would return again after she had read his tomes, questing for Omni once more. That was, however, after she had ascertained information involving something he wouldn’t tell her, though, she imagined it would be hard his his wordless condition.

Okay, he had mentioned something about sleeping, but I was never great at riddles. And how am I supposed to quest for the future if I am unable to stop reliving the past? Caira reflected on her dignity and despite her nearly immaculate history, she now mainly suffered from one, seemingly incurable thing: The pain of regret. Though she recognized that suffering can prove to be a mold and an immeasurable asset in some situations - and in essence a great motivator - this was, however, only applicable if one is able to overcome their qualms.

Caira, was no where near overcoming the flurry of scratches that could only begin to scathe the surface of her psyche. Omnilium, Hope, Pain, Death, Loss, Truth, Justice, and Redemption.Each had their place even before her present turmoil, questions about her past frequently surmised in her mind and distracted her from the present. How did I get here? -No, not to the Omniverse, but here where meteorites struck with my landing and I was permanently tagged with a name I know nothing about. Truth be told, Caira considered her new title ‘Ayryn’ as a much more applicable name. It hadn’t been so easily given, it had been created. And little did she know, more meaning was soon to come.

The pondering man seeks... The pained man... Reflects is it? Was that the old proverb the monks had taught me? Funny, I’m not sure I remember, though maybe I want to forget.

Hollow. Ah, yes, that was the word. Hollow with regret because she had sins to atone for. But how did it fit into the proverb?

The woman had overcome most of it, she had even surpassed the fact that there would be no way to save her home from its eventual destruction. “I have to become stronger,” she said out loud, “And what better place to acquire some training than to challenge a hundred experienced men to battle with a single sword?” Well, it wasn’t quite so simple. But it would certainly be done.

So far, during her lovely stay in this strangely opaque world, she had killed two innocent men. And in consequence, killed the men they were destined to save. This arduous obligation was one she would soon succumb to because of the uncompromising loyalty to her own judgement, the same preserved sense of morality that told her something was wrong. She sighed, “Well I can’t start out on the wrong foot in this world, surely I’ll trip.”

Using words to describe her current peril made it easier to act on. Sadly, it wasn’t her feet at stake, but her fate. Her pale fingertips caressed the leather journal, the one she had held for only a transient time and the one that was not hers to hold. ”Why did I keep it?” She then opened up to the page she had stashed within it; her own page yet entirely separable from the feeble shredded binding. She wrote down another word. It was the only word that she realized would atone for the guilt she felt on her burdened shoulders. The Prime would become the word and fill the void of the death. Caira would sacrifice the freedom she valued so much after being freed from monk-hood. Caira would become a soldier.


Taking orders, taking orders, it was all she had ever known; once more she fell into the empty pit that invited her with the sweet temptation of comfort. Responsible only for obedience. A disturbance rippled through her mind, resisting the despair of conformity and yet, she recoiled at the idea, telling herself - pleading with herself - what she knew at the time to be true: I am good.

But people change...

The gal approached the upper layer of Minas Tirith with angst creeping in her fingers. Yet she was a little ecstatic at the idea of new possibilities. Yet she anticipated a possible problem and feared a black spiraling portal of consequence for any possible misunderstanding. Meanwhile, the usual recruitment officers on duty had departed and were visiting the Nexus.

Caira strolled in, mounted on horseback - no pegasi to nearly fall off today- and quickly dismounted. As she approached the mage had found that Camelot’s training base was at the heart of the stone city. It was strangely quaint and somewhat masculine as most of the chiseled rocks were carved of slate and limestone. Her grip on the journal tightened as she grasped the thought that pulled her through the intimidating moment, convincing herself, This will make you stronger. How else could she fight against the sorrow that she earnestly fought against: Only villains killed heroes. Two were dead because of her.

Posted on the stoney wall next to the office was s scrabbly piece of paper, a poster of recruitment.

The illustration on the flier included an image that reflected the valiance and courageous nobility while including the appreciation of honor a soldier of Camelot should convey. Aragorn’s presence was implied on the poster that mixed with colors of silver and metaphoric images of kings, gods, and battalions.

[float=middle]Calling all those with honor, those who are willing to fight against injustice, and those who are willing to serve King Aragorn in the Camelot Army! We need YOU!

Location: Camelot’s Capital, Minas Tirith! Enlist today![/float]


The advertisement was brief and got the point across with a low-budget painting. Caira closed her eyes as she saw it, be it chance or fate, she was at a crossroads of the person she would choose to become. The Prime’s eyes glowed, emitting the somber light she felt within. A debt had to be paid, if not for her sake but for his.

The Prime approached the enlisting division. The office was a wooden cottage with dust accumulating on the doorknob. She rapped repeatedly on the ligneous door which remained locked from the inside. After ten minutes of repetitive drumming and finally, through the small foggy window, she saw a man with a cigarette in his mouth as he called through the door, “Alright, alright, quitcher bangin’!”

The authority opened the gate and muttered to the female Prime, sizing her up in a dismissive glance, “Who are you and what do y’ want?”

“Hello. I’m responsible for General List’s death. And I’d like to earn redemption.” It was a candid statement. She didn’t speak her name or in what way she had caused his death but it was apparent that she was ready to contribute much to the force and free her shame that was bound by her previous failure. The failure of not saving List’s life.

She would earn it. Fight for it. Win her pride back fair and square no matter the cost. And what better way was there to fight for the cause he had died for? Camelot. To become its best and fight for the same cost of her murdered ally. Even still, she could use some training, she needed to adapt to the worst conditions if she were going to the other verses and later face Omni.

“You are the one that hired the assassin, Kyrias Peak?” The man’s eyes sharpened and like a knife, turned on her. His menacing glare overcame her and he was blinded by the hatred.

“Oh... no sir, I-”

“It is my understanding that-”

“I didn’t hire anyone, I was just the unlucky person who was there when it happened. I feel responsible because he was murdered in front of my eyes. In fact, he pushed me out of the way. So as to make amends, I plan on becoming a soldier for the Kingdom.” she explained

“Ah, I see. But don’t expect me to marvel at your misplaced resolve, girl.” he seemed relieved she wasn’t an assassin, spy, or otherwise and the tension stagnating in the air evaporated. “So yer a Prime then?”

“I will be Camelot’s best.” Her eyes flashed to his as she took in his flinching gaze.

“Alright, Prime. Sign your name on the dotted line...”

Caira felt she had made it clear and convinced the new recruit trainer that she was not to be a pawn, yet still wanted to be trained exactly like the rest. He had mentioned there would be no problem with that and told her Primes only got one sort of ‘special’ treatment. Whatever that meant. She also specified particular terms which were included in their agreement such as that she was free to pursue other missions in other verses provided she make annual rounds returning to serve the Kingdom.

The man groaned at the arrogant Prime. He was glad to have her, as he told her on the tour of the grounds but her demands, while reasonably obscure, set his mind on her too primed attitude.

“That’s the meal hall, the other is the dorms. That one is yours,” he pointed and they continued their inspection. Caira liked her cicerone, whom had forgotten to introduce himself as Lead Training Captain Lunch. It was said he liked to “crunch” on the new recruits’ souls and ruin their dreams of becoming knights under Aragorn, she later found out from a girl named Kikk.

“Thank you for the tour, Captain.” She said as he nodded in response and dismissed her.

Training began. The starting drills were very basic and the new Prime fell in line with a marching platoon. The exercises commenced. During a break she thought she heard some distant murmurs over her shoulder, whispering the label ‘Prime’ as though it was a detestable term.

Ever since Shulk acquired the Monado, he knew that he was in control of his own future. The visions given by the ancient sword were an invaluable gift in countless situations, and through them, many horrible futures had not come to pass. And yet... the ambiguity of these visions ensured he could never be fully prepared for what the future had in store. When Shulk set out for Prison Island, where he saw himself in the future, he did not tell his companions about the very end of that premonition. The black void, the faceless man and his fragmented speech about something called the "Omniverse", and the odd looking gates in a pure white background. For the rest of the journey, Shulk pushed his uncertainty on the back-burner to concentrate on the parts the of the vision where he was battling his best friend's murderer.

And when that battle came to pass, when Shulk saw Fiora inside the shell of a faced Mechon, his entire world turned to blackness in the blink of an eye. He came to moments later, and it was unclear whether he was floating or standing upright. Every part of him felt weightless.

Where am I? W-What's going on? Shulk thought frantically, mouthing words that weren't coming out for some reason. And then, in the darkness, he saw a light. The shape of a person, a Homs, it looked like.

Quote:“My name is Omni. This is not the world you know. This is the Omniverse. You interest me, so I have made you part of it. The Omniverse is a place that reflects the wishes of those who are part of it. But! There are rules. I will explain them only once, so listen carefully."

Quote:“This is Omnilium. It’s what ties the Omniverse together. Without it, you are nothing. With it, anything you desire can be yours. But you will need more than this. If you desire it enough, you will find it. You will find that using it comes naturally. Just think of what you desire most."

Quote:“You will not be alone in the Omniverse. There are others. Of course, they, too desire Omnilium. Do not fear death. For as long as you interest me, you will be reborn."

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

To: Nealaphh
(<!-- e --><a href="mailto:Nealaphh@antiomni.org">Nealaphh@antiomni.org</a><!-- e -->)

From: Demetri Malius(<!-- e --><a href="mailto:IRISisAwesome@omail.com">IRISisAwesome@omail.com</a><!-- e -->)

Subject: IRIS parting for void quest.

Hello Nealaphh, I am IRIS. Creator said that I should contact you, as I am now parting to embark on a group secondary void quest. The details are still not set in stone but I shall be remaining in the Nexus until further information is given. I will contact you and creator once I reach my destination or if other factors come up.

Because of particular reasons, the thread i am in is just not moving fast enough for me. I can return to it in a few days tops. Until then:

I would like to throw up a little offer. Fight me. Meet me. Converse with me. I NEED SOMETHING.

Thank you for your time.

Jack and his little Namekian friend(Krosst not Retane) are in the Tangled Greens. Hmu.

"Hrrrmmm...."

Damn. Quite a lot of things going on all at once, it would seem. Some little dude all up and swallowed by his own duds is over there shootin fire and lightning and all this other miraculous shit at that fountain. Some ol' princess looking motherfucker dropped out of thin air and started making demands like some other princess looking motherfucker died and made her queen. And then there's THIS guy. Crazy kinda scary ass looking guy comes shooting out of the horizon like a robo ninja whatever the hell on his damn motorbike that floated or whatever the motherfuck and-

Shit. It's just a little much right now.

He'll be damned if just when he thought he had wrapped his head on straight around this whole OmniMiracleVerse thing, all these other bros and brahs just make things all up and complicated again. He groans, and rises to his feet before looking down into his now almost empty drink. Without hesitation, The troll slams the rest of the wicked elixir, exhaling deeply when he finishes off the last of it. He then proceeds to hold the bottle to the sky upside down, squinting up into the nozzle, as if that would spontaneously just refill the bottle. Though, when he really thought about, in this land of Miracles, it probably would if he tried hard enough. Gamzee took another brief glance in the direction of the other "Primes," as that cue-ball looking boss man called them. Perhaps it would be best to find some other kinds of best buds to kick back with. These guys don't look all much to be his kinda type of best bros.

Gamzee holds his arm out, and puts his thumb in a hitchhiker's position. He holds his thumb against the horizon, and squints down it, as if his thumb were the bead of an iron sighted gun. Man. Honestly he isn't sure where he's headed. There ain't nothing in this entire region besides this weird ass fountain, and them weird ass archways off in the distance.

Honestly it's a pretty damn weird place.

Gamzee turns a full 360 degree circle several times before he finally settles on a gate, leveling it off with his thumb. Ho-lee shit that's a ways off. It'll take a miracle or two if he wants to get there within the next couple of hours or so, and that's spitballing. The troll shrugs, and puts on a decidedly stupid grin. Miracles are his specialty. He turns, so that he can stare at the other Primes for a few moments more. He thought about saying something, but with this lot, it would probably be best not to draw unwanted attention towards himself. Though in reality, it'd be nice to have some attention in the form of a traveling partner. So be it, man. This won't be the first time that Gamzee Makara was on his own. With that thought, he faces the Gate in the northeast once again and sets off. He holds his hitchhiker's thumb out, partly for irony, partly because it's better than the empty vastness of this world.

Anyone looking for a certain attack heavy character to add to their faction?

Let me know. Asap.

So realtalk, guys. Lately my posts switched from third to first person and past to present tense. The latter switch I've always wanted to make but as I feel it lends itself to a sense of action and immediacy better. I ultimately want to write my book that way. As for first person I figure I put the characters' thoughts in so much, this way it was less awkward and jarring to crowbar their thoughts into third person or having to switch to italics if I wanted to actually use their 'voice'. It was more fun with Enel because I was able to play with the idea of having an extremely unreliable narrator. IE:

"I sniff the cheese they’d offered up before pushing it away. I look at Ganondorf to see if he’s, at least, equally disgusted by the alien’s staggeringly poor judgement. He’s practically wringing his hands and I know he wants to apologise but there’s no way he’s going to lose face in front of the other two."

As for Samus she's more flat and factual so it's less fun in that sense but I'm intending to stick to it with her as well.

My question is, what do you think of these new posts so far? Do you prefer the old style or like the new?

All Purchases for Heir of the Monado go here.

Current post count: (your current post count, viewable on your profile)
Current Earned OM: (your current Earned OM, viewable next to your posts)
Current Spent OM: (total, viewable on your roster)
Buying: (whatever it is you want to buy). Cost: (the cost) OM.
New Spent OM: (your total Spent OM after the purchase)

All moves must be approved here before purchase.

Axorn screamed in pain as the block of ceramite-infused concrete bashed into his head, breaking a cheekbone and causing him to spurt out a fountain of blood from his mouth and nose, as he staggered backwards, dropping his beloved sword to the ground. Axorn took his time to recover from the blow, using it instead to survey his surroundings. Half the museum looked as though it had been blown up, with sections of wall missing all over the place, making the museum similar to a slice of swiss cheese. The other half of the building was infested with a bluish-purple flesh, covered with eyes and screaming mouths, making the entire thing look like something out of a horror movie. Down below Axorn could hear the voices of dozens of storm troopers as they began to flood every last inch of the building.

"Sqaudron A," said a voice, most likely the commander for this investigation. "secure a five block police check, no one is allowed to enter or leave the area until this investigation is over, you copy?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Squadron A responded.

"Squadron B, spread out and apprehend the suspects."

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Crap," Axorn swore. "I don't have much time to find my friends and get out of here. I'd better get to work."

Just as Axorn was about to get up, a beacon of pain lit in his right wing, causing him to wince as he stood up. Okor had just jumped off the building, leaving Axorn to wonder what he was doing. Just then, a few storm troopers ran up to the top of the stairs and started firing, causing Axorn to whip around, his mouth ablaze, and burn those few to the ground, while also creating a barrier of fire, burning up any more who tried to pass through. That won't hold for long, Axorn thought. but it'll do for now. Axorn turned back around, grabbed his gunblade off to ground and raced off deeper into the vortex of chaos that used to be the Coruscant museum.
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After a few hours of searching and dodging storm troopers, Axorn found Triest, passed out one floor below him, and surrounded by chatting storm troopers.

"Hey, did you guys see the game last night?" one said.

"Yeah, we won 16-4, we're totally going to win the cup this year." another replied.

"Hey guys, what kind of creature do you think this kid is?" a third questioned.

Just then, Axorn rushed in, sliding below the gunfire and slashing at the troopers' legs, causing them to fall over. Axorn quickly finished them off with a few bursts of flame, before slinging Triest over his shoulder with his free hand, and running towards the writhing, blue-purple mess that was the other side of the museum, in an effort to find Erik.
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After a few more fights with the local law enforcement, Axorn finally made it to the other side, only to be halted by an invisible psychic field that drove him mad every time he tried to push through. I just need to hope Erik is OK in there, if only I was strong enough mentally to get in. I guess we'll just hide and wait for him here. After thinking this, Axorn dove into an intact, and quite spacious janitorial closet, hiding in the shadows, wincing at every scream from the twisted form of the other side of the museum, ready to twist the neck of any storm trooper who tried to enter.