Wakka’s mind bustled with questions, but after the mysterious figure’s monologue, it flashed a childish grin and giggled, quickly vanishing before the blitzballer could even part his lips.

Wakka stared into the water of the fountain, and his reflection stared right back at him. The questions he had for the mysterious figure were still running through his mind, repeating even, and as he looked harder at his reflection he could see it mocking him. Like it knew something he didn’t. It teased him. A subtle ripple flared his image for a second, but as it returned back to normal Wakka swore his reflection smirked.

He almost balled his fist and smashed it into his mirrored face; splash it into a violent tsunami. He resisted the urge. He knew his reflection would gather itself. His punch would just be misguided anger.

The place in which he found himself only exasperated his building frustration. A gaze in any direction led to the same blank sight—barren land, empty skies, something in the distance. The earth grew nothing, not even a damn weed, and it continued for miles. The sky was sunless, yet the land was still bathed in a bright perpetual light. If not for the circular fountain (probably the centerpiece) the land would have been a clean canvas.

There had to be a way out; if there was a way in there was a way out. The words echoed with the voice of Tidus behind them; the blonde’s persistence had rubbed off some on Wakka.

With a glance down to his sandals, he grabbed the bag next to his feet by the strings, flicking his wrist and wrapping it around his fist. The blitzballer was unsure of where to go, but he slung his bag over his shoulder and picked a direction.

With a whoosh, Shang was suddenly horizontal in water. Unwilling to test the belief that he couldn’t drown, the sorcerer planted his feet on the bottom of the fountain and reoriented himself into an upright position. As he stood up, he broke the surface of the Fountain of Infinity and found himself back in the Nexus. Around the sorcerer, the water took on a light green hue as dozens of green clouds formed above the surface and started to swirl around him.

By the time the souls had vanished into Shang Tsung’s now renewed body, the Spartan broke the surface on the other side of the fountain and let out a gasping shout as he spit up a mouthful of water. Sloshing around to his ally, the sorcerer gave him a sturdy smack on the back. “Thirsty?”

“Funny,” Atelos grumbled as furrowed his brow at the man next to him. “You’re younger now.”

Shang glanced down into the somewhat still waters of the fountain and noticed that he was, in fact, much younger than normal. The dose of souls had been far more potent than he had initially thought, and the version of himself that looked up from the water was probably no more than twenty five years old. “It’ll do,” the sorcerer remarked as he stepped out from the Fountain of Infinity and surveyed the area around them. The last time he had been to this verse, he had been on the verge of death. Disoriented and confused, he had accepted a ride from a soldier, but there were no troops around this time. A few fresh primes roamed the area, but none of them bothered the pair of battle-hardened warriors.

“Where do we go?” Atelos asked. “…I think the Pale Moors is that way,” he added as he pointed east toward the gates on the horizon. The pair made their way toward the eastern half of the Nexus, but before they could commit to a gate, both noticed the small group of green creatures dragging someone through the exit to the northwest.

“I feel like that’s something we shouldn’t turn a blind eye to.” Shang muttered as he turned and glanced at his companion, who cracked a smile.

“…Did the paladin infect you?” Atelos snickered. “Perhaps that hammer of his making you think things?”

Shang scowled and started toward to gate to the Tangled Green. After a few steps, he glanced over his shoulder at the Spartan. “Afraid to be outclassed in combat?”

The Spartan drew his shield and shook his head. “You’re on, Sorcerer.”

With that, the pair were off toward the Tangled Green.

I'd like to request Recognition for Shang Tsung in the Pale Moors.

In a year and a half in the Pale Moors, he's combated crime on the streets (Hunger Games, become a member of Darkshire's garrison (Link, and with one of her champions, braved the horrors of Silent Hill Link and emerged from that madness after having discovered the secret that lie beneath the town.  It's only three threads, but they're all rather meaty.

I'm not sure if this is the type of thing one submits a formal review request for or not, but I figured it wouldn't hurt.

I'm sure that Atelos would probably also like to be considered for this as well, but I'll let him speak for himself.

All purchases for Red go here.

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New Spent OM: (your total Spent OM after the purchase)

All moves must be approved here before purchase.

To: Cat (<!-- e --><a href="mailto:littlekitten@omniverse.com">littlekitten@omniverse.com</a><!-- e -->)
From: Nealaphh (<!-- e --><a href="mailto:nealaphh@antiomni.org">nealaphh@antiomni.org</a><!-- e -->)

Subject: Institute Assignment


Hello Cat.

Thank you again for agreeing to assist me in the endeavor of improving this Omniverse. I hope that I have been of adequate assistance in helping you come to understand your current situation, and that you have been armed with sufficient knowledge so as to protect you in your journeys.

I have assigned you the role of Acolyte within the Omniverse Institute, and in that role I hope that you might be able to assist in more personal matters that other branches may not be exclusively suited to. Now that you have read The Monotruth, I trust that you ware aware of my personal quest to cast down the dragon Volvagia from its seat of power within the Ashen Steppes. For this task, I will require the assistance of more established factions, and the warriors of Ambrosia as led by the prime known as Guu are of particular interest.

If you could, please, travel to the Tangled Green and make contact with Princess Guu or a relevant retainer, and open a dialogue as to the possibility of tactical support during the main conflict with Volvagia. Below, I have written several talking points which you can bring up. Once the initial conversation has taken place, please send a report on how the discussions went, and any new terms or details that I might need to consider. Please stay as long as you need to until Princess Guu gives either a definite yes or no.

The people of Ambrosia are good-spirited and protective of new primes such as yourself, but the journey itself may not be entirely without peril. To this end, I encourage you to take Klee and Shen along with you so that they can act as a wealth of knowledge and protection in my place. There is no precise need to rush this, so if you are delayed, do not feel burdened by a sense of urgency.


Thank you for your time and effort. I look forward to your results.

In utmost esteem,

Headmaster Nealaphh




Attached Files:
Negotiation_Terms.doc
[spoiler]1. I intend to set up a long term base of operations within the Ashen Steppes. My plans for the building will require an abundance of raw materials only available in the Tangled Green. These include:
-Tropical Hardwoods
-Native Flora and Fauna
-Unprocessed Fresh Water
-Topsoil
-Algae Biomass

For these amenities, I can offer:
-Processed Precious and Semiprecious metals
-Chemical Catalysts
-Various Volcanic Minerals
-Concrete
-Glass
-Organic Explosives

2. In the slaying of Volvagia, I have a plan that requires the assistance of a team of expert combatants also schooled in the art of subterfuge. In exchange, I can off logistical support for Ambrosian construction efforts after the event has taken place.[/spoiler]

Hello! I am Dan Willickers! You may know me from famed Yelp reviews. Or at least you did before they banned me.

Yeah, those Yelp people are oppressive motherfuckers. Call Tyrande a whore for not sleeping with me ONE TIME and they ban you for life! Well, it's for a number of things but none of them were important!

But it's cool. Now I can start this blog where I go further in depth on the places I've visited in my travels!

Maybe even get some extra pussy out of the deal. Bitches love them some blogs!

It felt like the sun had been wearing him down for hours. He had sand in his hair, in his eyes, his shoes and even a little in his nose. The diminutive man walked, hands bound, between two other figures. He knew that the one in front of him was female—she had a certain swagger to her walk that suggested confidence, but in a more feminine aspect thereof. Ron had heard the one behind him speak as well—a low, gruff, dry voice. Hoarse from years of nomadic lifestyle, or perhaps he just smoked too much.

The lady wore a heavy cloak, with her face obscured by a hood. The thing was old, and white, and ragged, being colored in spots by the wind-blown shavings of the dunes. Her shirt hung low on her, draping down past the seam of her trousers. Tied to her legs were dinged metal plates and old, worn parts of machinery Ron couldn’t get a good enough look at to ID. Armor, maybe? These people were clearly pretty impoverished if this was what they were working with.

He struggled a little with the ropes binding his hands behind his back, but was met with a hard crack on the back of the head from the man guarding him from behind. “What do you think you’re doing, bitch?” he snarled. He felt a boot press hard against the back of his knee, and his own weight was suddenly too much to bear. The bastard had dead-legged him.

His captor dug his heel deeper into the naked meat of Ron’s shin, causing the augmented scout to grunt in pain. The lady whirled around, her tan flesh shining in the light. Ron could see her face now. Green eyes stared at him contemptuously. He thought about how long it’d been since he’d gotten laid. Then he wondered why he would ever think about something like that at a time like this.

“What are you doing, Neil?” the woman turned her gaze higher, looking at the man behind Ron. Her voice was harsh as well, but in comparison to her comrade’s was much more crisp and unharassed by the elements. “You can’t just mess him up like that. He won’t fetch as high a slave-price if you do.”

The man growled back, “He was trying to escape, Natalie. He was screwing with his bonds.” The boot lifted up, and Ron sighed in relief. The sensation didn’t last long, however, as he felt the same force on the back of his neck, forcing him down onto the ground. The sand burned his exposed arms and face. He struggled and coughed, trying to keep the grains out of his mouth.

“Yeah?” the woman replied, her voice entering a crescendo—signaling anger. “Well I don’t recall making you the executive decision maker of this little operation, scrub. So get your fuckin’ foot off of my property.”

The boot pressed down against Ron’s neck. He screamed in pain, pulling hard against his restraints and shifting the weight of his torso around, hoping to shake the man off. Neil simply laughed. “Yeah, and what are you gonna do at the end of the day, Nat? Not a thing. You need me, and you--”

The loud report of a shot echoed across the barren dunes. The force once exerted was now no more. Ron flipped over onto his belly and sat up quickly. The man lay stone dead in the sand, a single bullet penetrating his center of mass—Ron recognized the placement. It was a deliberate, aimed shot to the heart. Ron could see what little life he had left fade away, the slaver’s vacant stare meeting the sun perfectly as his head drooped and lulled to one side.

Slowly, he stood and turned. The woman held Ron’s own revolver in her hands. His stomach churned. Grey had given him that gun as a defensive tool; it had never taken a life yet. “M-miss?” the short young man addressed his captor. His meekness was met by the barrel of the firearm. Ron feigned extra fear to gratify his captor; the truth was that he’d gotten used to staring down death since he first met The Grey Man. This brought back memories more than it inspired terror. Still, he didn’t want to try the lady’s patience.

His thoughts were cut short by the woman’s voice. “In front of me. You have point now. I’ll tell you where we’re going.”

The young man’s face flushed with color at her bold orders, prompting an odd look from his captor. He sighed, and he obeyed. After a few moments of walking, he spoke. “That gun in your hand is meant to be a tool of self-defense. Don’t you have your own?”

He closed his eyes and hoped she wouldn’t shoot him. Surprisingly, she didn’t. “A moralist, huh? Sorry then, I guess. I figured you’d just be happy that I got him off you.” she answered. He was surprised by that answer. Even moreso by how calm she seemed compared to her late companion.

“Wasn’t he your friend?” Ron asked, looking back at her for a moment.

“Who, Neil? Nah. Neil was an asshole. This was his first real job with my outfit. As you saw, I don’t have much patience for people who can’t just shut up and do as they’re told. Adjust your paces a little to the left; you’re getting us slightly off track.”

Big Ron turned his head back to the seemingly endless dunes in front of him. “I’m Ron.” He said flatly. His captor was willing to make conversation, which meant two things: first, that he could pump her for information. In spite of the circumstances, he found himself strangely entranced by her cold demeanor, and his thoughts invariably ran back to the same place… Ron briefly wondered if maybe he had some kind of serious mental problem; maybe his time as a prisoner to Grendeline had affected his state of mind a little more deeply than he cared to admit. Regardless, the secondary function was what Ron cared more about: it would pass the time. It had been hours; when he thought about having to walk for another moment while enduring the heat and the silence., he’d almost rather be Neil.

Almost.

“Ron, huh? That’s a good one. You heard my name, so I guess there’s no harm in telling you… I’m Nat. Short for Nataravania.”

Ron would’ve gone with ‘Nat’, too, if that were his name. He didn’t say as much, though; didn’t seem prudent. Instead, he decided to see how open his captor was willing to get with him. “So, Nat. You’ve been doing this a while, I take it?”

“You could say that. I was almost born with a gun in my hands, really. Certain clients around the verses will pay good money for, ah, indentured servants, we’ll call them.”

I was almost born with a gun in my hands… and in his mind, her voice began to meld with Grey’s. That was exactly what he’d told a younger Ron back on Mars, when they’d first met and the man who would become Big Ron was just another captive surgeon during the Proto-Gilgamesh Incident.

“What about you? You seem awfully calm for such a hardcore pacifist.” She said, seeming only marginally interested in their conversation. She was probably just as maddened by the heat as he was, if not moreso—those bits of makeshift armor couldn’t be helping. Wait a minute… That gave him an idea.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been in situations like this a couple of times before?” he answered. She chuckled lightly. “Well, your whole left arm’s just a very convincing prosthesis, so that kinda tipped me off that you’re not from around here.”

He blushed and grunted slightly in dismay… Had she taken it off? Whether she was a sociopathic desert-dwelling criminal or not, Big Ron couldn’t stand it when people saw him without his arm.

“Don’t worry,” she continued. “I won’t take it from you. You can relax.”

A moment of silence. “Did you,” Ron started, stammering before he could finish. “Did you take it off?”

“Who, me? Nah. I thought about it, but after we knocked you out I couldn’t figure out how the seal on that crazy thing works.” She said, giggling a little bit. She sounded embarrassed.

“Well, it’s probably a little complicated for you. No offense.”

“None taken. A few steps to the right?”

“Sorry. Like this?” Ron said, adjusting his gait accordingly.

“That’ll do it. So, Ron, what did you do before this?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me undo these restraints.”

“What?! Why should I?” Her voice returned to the angry, harsh voice that had shot Neil dead. Ron decided now would be the time to drop his own act of the cowardly victim. He quickly whirled around to face her. “Why should you?” he echoed, reaching up and quickly pulling on one of the ends of his bindings. They unfurled like a dream; Grey had taught him well. He slowly raised his hands up, putting them on his head to signal that he wasn’t trying to escape. Saying nothing in response, the woman pulled the hammer of the gun back. The click that came before the shot shrank Ron’s pupils. He could feel a primal sort of fear creeping in on him. Forcing the fear back down his throat, Ron found his voice again, and the short man spoke.

“… You should let me do it because I survived those other encounters that I mentioned, and it’s not from any kind of combat skill, I can promise you. I’m cooperating with you, just like I did with them. So you’ll allow me this because you know that I’m too smart to try to run. You won’t kill me if I flee, you’ll cripple me so that you can still get something out of this trip. Besides all that, wouldn’t you know? I’ve already done it. I’ve seen what you can do, and I respect it… but you let slip that you run the show. Meaning that first and foremost, you’re a businesswoman. So I’ll bet my life that aren’t really gonna shoot me over this. Neil was disposable. I’m potential income.”

He lowered his arms to his sides and took a step forward. She stood her ground. He took another step. She raised the gun. The barrel was squarely centered on his forehead. She stared hard at him. He stared back, a thousand witnessed war crimes suddenly flashing through his eyes. Her eyes met his, and each saw that the other was the same. He softened, reflexively, when he saw this. She did the same. Her hands began to shake. A biting wind whipped across the desert.

Ron slowly lifted his hand up to the barrel of the gun. He wrapped his fingers around it gently, and moved it away. She offered no resistance. He moved her trembling hands to the low ready position.

Silently, they wept.

All purchases for Cyburn go here.

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So!

I'm currently sitting pretty on 1,900 unspent OM. My original intention was to buy Basic Teleportation and the following move:

[spoiler]Quantum Uncertainty 300 OM (Requires Teleportation, Time Manipulation, and Telepathy)

Nealaphh can take advantage of quantum fluctuations within a certain area to automatically teleport whenever someone is not looking at it. If someone breaks visual contact with Nealaphh for one second or more on their turn, Nealaphh will immediately teleport out of sight. It will then use its ability to control time to delay its manifestation until its own turn, at a visible location out of anyone else's line of sight. Nealaphh is aware of its opportunities to teleport by briefly scanning the immediate vicinity for minds aware of its exact location.

Since no on ever sees Nealaphh teleport, no one knows what it looks like.

Nealaphh can only do this when no sentient creatures, even its allies, are observing its location. If an opponent also has the ability to manipulate time, they can 'pull' Nealaphh out of its teleport by accelerating their own perception of reality. Nealaphh can only summon the energy to do this once per round.

(The idea here is that Nealaphh, if it has the opportunity to do so, will always teleport. The reason I'm trying to make this a move is that it's sort of like a 'parry'.)[/spoiler]

I have concerns as to how viable this will actually be in a fight, whether I can rely my on my opponent to treat it fairly and honor when Nealaphh would do it. I realize placing a maneuver by my character partly in an opponent's hands is going to raise issues, but the reason I put Time Manipulation in was so I could delay the teleport emergence till my own turn.

The main reason I wanted this move was because it fits Nealaphh's theme as a master of physics, since, according to quantum theory, an unobserved object does not necessarily have to continue to exist when it stops being observed.

The other reason, though, is that I want to disincentivize people from looking away from Nealaphh. The alternarive might be that Nealaphh automatically becomes intangible when it isn't being observed, but this doesn't fit quite right with me.

Any suggestions/thoughts?

[float=right][/float]

Character name: Wakka

Character source: Final Fantasy (x)

Character history:
Wake's history follows the FFX storyline, except for the ending. Instead of figuring out how to kill Sin (for good), Wakka sacrifices himself to be the final Aeon. A huge battle ensues between him and Sin, resulting in Wakka's displacement into the Omniverse.

Physical Description:

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

Starting Proficiencies: Ranged Proficiency (1000), Debuff Proficiency (1000), Homing Proficiency (600)

Starting Powers: Master Acrobat (400)

Starting Moves:

Blitzball
[spoiler][/spoiler]
A spherically-studded ball about thirty centimeters in diameter utilized in a sport unique to Spira. It can also be used as a weapon. Although blitzballs appear resilient against the powerful kicks of blitzball contenders, and the various hides of enemies Wakka and others strike with them, they are light; the material comprising the blitzball lacks the density to sink on its own.

If Wakka desires, he can use his homing abilities to to curve the ball's trajectory midair, and loosely follow its target up to 50 meters.

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