Sweat ran down the woman’s face, her fever reaching its peak. Groaning, she rolled in the wet sheets, her skin sticking and pulling them along with her. Her ragged breath was laced with half-murmured curses, her ashy dry knuckles gripping furiously as pain coursed through her flimsy mortal form.

“I’ve never seen this before,” the old man said as he readied another basin. “Most primes either heal or die by now.”

Her bloodshot brown eyes locked on him, even as her body strained. Rage ran through her blood in equal measure to the fever, her entire body quaking.

He dragged the old wooden stool to her side and dabbed the towel into the basin. “I wonder if the infection is from a poison?” he pushed the towel into her wound and she hissed in pain. He wiped away the thick pus and blood that had encrusted her injuries. “But I don’t see any kind of… rot or anything?” He shook his head and cleaned the rag in the water, “It just looks like a run-of-the-mill infection though. I’m honestly shocked I don’t see more of them.”

“It depends on who you’re treating,” she groaned, her cracked lips barely able to form the words. “Or who made the person.”

His eyebrows furrowed and deep creases formed in his high forehead. “What do you mean?” he asked as he continued to tend to the wounds.

With a deep breath, the woman shifted her weight and pulled her head up, “Certain people are from backgrounds where they expect to get infections. Certain people are from places where that kind of shit never happens.” Looking to one of the thinly curtained windows, she continued, “People from places like eighteen-hundreds America are usually prone to getting sick. People from Pandora don’t seem to.”

“Hm,” he said, his eyes locked on the meticulous work of his hands, “I suppose that makes as much sense as anything else around here.” He lifted the ceramic bowl, now filled with dirty bandages and red-stained water. “I guess you’re just from one of the places where people get sick.”

“Told you,” she wheezed, holding her side, “I’m not from anywhere.”

“How exactly does that work?” he asked, pouring the basin out the window.

She shifted and looked away as if trying to avoid the question physically. “So, who did you used to be, a doctor or something? Like, where you’re from.”

He offered a soft laugh, “No.” He ringed out the rag into the bowl. “No, I was a preacher, I guess you could say.” He wiped the dish clean and set it to dry in the sliver of the sun that peeked out from the window. “A lot of folks used to call me Shepherd.”

“What do they call you now?”

He lifted an eyebrow back in her direction, a coy smirk on his lips. “Mostly, nothing. But I suppose if I were hard-pressed to give you an answer, I guess Shepherd would do.”

The tiniest of smiles grew on her face, “So you’re another person without a name. I thought that all primes had a name.”

“Do you?” he retorted warmly.

A protracted silence crept into the preacher’s small living space, growing deeper and wider by the moment. A sadness could be seen underneath the woman’s anger, a depth which she was yet unwilling to share.

The quiet was quickly washed away as the door swung open, a young woman waltzing in.

All purchases for Jhago go here.

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Character name: Ruby Rose

Character source: RWBY by Rooster Teeth

Character history: (Written from Ruby's perspective) Finally! My second year has begun! I can't wait to get Weiss, Blake and Yang up! It's here, it's here, it's here! Okay, maybe I'm overreacting a little, but come on, we get to do even more fun Huntress stuff! Man, team RWBY's going to show everyone what real Huntresses are made of! I'm getting down from my rather precariously perched bed and crouching by Weiss's, and I'm going to wake her up first - wait, she's not there. Did she already leave? That snobbish Miss Schnee... I guess I'll go check on Blake then!

But she's not here either, and neither is Yang... what's happening? Are they playing a joke on me? If so, this isn't funny... I'm actually kinda scared... I'll go see if they're all already out. It is possible. But when I open the door, there is no hallway. Just blackness. It's ominous, to say the least... Is this just a nightmare? If I pinch myself - ow! N-nope... I'm not dreaming. This is getting scary...

Before I know it the doorway and floor have disappeared, and I'm falling into the nothingness. I can feel a scream in my throat and mouth, but no sound comes out. Before long, I feel nothing as I stop falling, stop screaming.

What's happening to me?!

Physical Description:


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

Starting Proficiencies: Physical Strength (1000 OM), Ranged Proficiency (1000 OM)

Starting Powers: Super Speed (1000 OM)

Starting Moves: Crescent Rose (600-900 OM - Requires Physical Strength, Ranged Proficiency)
As its name implies, Crescent Rose's frame is colored rose red with black trims, with its large scythe blade forged into a crescent shape. Ruby's crest is engraved onto the circular swivel frame of the weapon.

The most notable property of Crescent Rose is its converting frame: it allows Crescent Rose to transform into different combat modes, from a full-scale scythe and sniper rifle form to a condensed rifle form. It can also fold up tightly and be holstered for more convenient transportation, stored underneath Ruby's cloak at her waist. Also, while it appears to be a bolt-action weapon, it does not need to be in its gun mode to fire.

Quote:FINALLY IT'S HERE! I have one dilemma though: not sure if Crescent Rose should cost more due to having three modes (Sniper-scythe, rifle, sheathed) and two forms of combat (Slashing and shooting in sniper-scythe mode and just shooting in rifle mode). Would be great if that could get looked over!

Stepping out on the other side of the gate, Dean ended up in what seemed to be a savanna, well-travelled it would seem by all the tracks around. It was hot here, and the air was dry. At his feet were trampled patches of grass, and a few other forms of plant life. What there was a lot of were rocks. All around there were boring old rocks of all shapes and sizes. Into the distance he could see the usual desert stuff, like sand and dunes. It did look like as though was some sort of settlement nearby, so Dean decided that it might be best to start there before heading off into the wide blue yonder. Gripping the hilt of the first blade tight he made sure to keep it near him as he walked.

As he continued towards the settlement Dean thought he heard a noise off to his side and as he started to turn to face it he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder. Looking down, he saw the hilt of a crudely made blade in the hand of someone he did not know. Using a burst of demonic speed Dean reaches up with his free hand and tightly grips the hand around the blade in his shoulder, squeezing it until there is a sharp yell. Dean moved the mans hand, and with it brought the metal blade out of his shoulder. Apparently being a demon doesn't make you immune to pain, though Dean did notice that his blood was darker than normal. Shaking the man's wrist, Dean made sure his attacker dropped his blade before letting go of his arm and grabbing his shirt and lifting him up.

Looking up, Dean finally locked eyes with his would be assailant. A man, probably middle aged, in ratty clothing who was probably looking for a new Prime to steal from, looked back at him. As they continued their staring contest Dean forced his eyes to go completely black and stay in a way that caused the man to gasp and struggle to get free.

“Buddy, you picked the wrong guy on the wrong day...” Dean growled, letting the sentence trail off as he brought up his right hand and smashed the hilt of the first blade into the mans nose. Dean felt the warmth of the man's blood as it trickled down his hand. The mark was screaming at this point, it was almost deafening to Dean. The rage was flowing through his veins, and it had spiked in intensity when Dean had hit his prisoner. It was starting to feel good too, every time he gave into the marks lust for blood. This man should die, needed to die. THIS MAN WOULD DIE!


“If you had only threatened me I would have given you the chance to walk away, probably, but now?” Dean brought the hilt of the first blade down on the man's face again, “Now you are going to give me everything I want, if you want to live' pal.” The fear on the mans' face was palpable, Dean knew that he could get what he wanted from this guy. Sadly it seemed like the guy didn't have much to offer so Dean decided to get some information.

“Let's start with something easy. That town over there. What is it?” Dean used his blade to point at it and the man tried to answer as best as he could with a broken and bloody nose.


“C...Carrebore...” the man stuttered to Dean.

“Carrebore? You sure? Pinky swear?” Dean asked causing the man to shake his head. “No?” Dean hit him again, this time a bit harder. “Then why did you say it was!”

“C...Carre....Care..pphhhfff...” It became clear to Dean now what was happening. The man was basically drowning in his own blood or something. Pronunciation might not be a strong point right now.

“Carre...bore...phhhhhfffff...fffffffore? Carrefore?” His prisoner nodded this time and Dean smiled, and lowered his hand a little. “Some place I might want to go?” The man shook his head, so much for the easy road.

“Where should I go then?” As Dean asked this the man pointed off in a direction away from the settlement. “How far?”

“A b..bew biles...” was the chocked response.

A few miles, huh? Dean thought about this for awhile and then decided that the interview was over.

“Good news for you, I am out of questions!” Dean tosses the first blade in the air and then catches the hilt so the tip of the blade was now pointing down at the man's face. “Bad news, I am out of questions.”

Dean brought his arm down hard and fast, bringing the blade into contact with the poor soul's face. He could almost feel as the teeth on this jagged blade bit into flesh, tore through muscle with a sickening sound. The mark of Cain flared to life again, aching for Dean to do some serious violence. Dean raised his arm and paused while he listened to the screams, sobs, and all the other pitiful sounds this man was making. It caused him to smile, though to anyone watching it would like more like he was bearing his teeth in a snarl.

Then he bought the blade down again, and again. He continued this until he was covered in blood from the shoulders up, and only a bit of it was his own. He could feel it through his clothes and on his skin. It was currently the most wondrous thing he had felt in a long time. As for the poor guy who was probably just looking for an easy mark to get his next meal or something? Well, no one would recognize his face now. After the deed had been done Dean felt oddly at peace, as if the mark of Cain had been sedated, for now. His eyes shifted from the all back mark of a demon to his normal human eyes. His shoulder ached, reminding him of the injury had had received. Hopefully it would heal soon. He was pretty sure that was one perk of being a demon.

Dragging the lifeless corpse off to the side Dean dumped it, and he took a few steps away. Hopefully he hadn't been seen, but knowing his luck he was probably going to be a 'hunted man' now. That was if anyone cared for two bit wannabe bandits. Probably something about life being precious blah blah blah. Either way he had to get out of here soon.

He made his way to an open part of the field best suited for his current task, someplace directed at this town he informed was in this general direction. The one that he didn't get a name for. He concentrated on this Omnilium stuff, thinking of a way to get the hell out of here. It swirled around him and then moved in front of him starting to form that which he desired most.

First it formed the tires, then the frame work. Next followed the engine, then the seats, wiring, a mysterious box on one of the seats, body work and then windows. Finally it was starting to take shape.

As he opened his eyes Dean saw in front of him a car that put others to shame. It had a slab-sided body with a small "upsweep" at the rear quarter window, giving it a more formal appearance then most cars of its time. Every line and angel on the body was designed to make this car look bigger, tougher, and they were doing the job perfectly. The exterior was painted black, but not just any old black paint job would do. The paint was so expertly applied the surface was glass-smooth, and had a reflection that was miles deep. The insides were designed to match the outside, as everything that could be was also black. The soft leather seats looking rather inviting to him after all the walking he had been doing. The mysterious box on the front passenger seat contained something that was only important to Dean, cassette tapes. It was his baby, his chariot, it was what people would remember as he caused chaos in these lands. If he was going to ride, he was going to do it in style! Nothing said style better then a 1967 four door Impala.

Taking a walk around he made sure nothing was out of place before opening the door and getting inside, still covered in blood. He reached for the ignition but stopped, something was wrong. The speedometer only went to 80 miles per hour. Was the a rule of this world or did he mess it up somehow? After a brief moment he decided it didn't matter. Turning the key that was already in the ignition the engine roared to life and all around the immediate area music could be heard.


“There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold, And she's buying a stairway to heaven...” Noooooooope. This would not do. Hitting the eject button on the cassest player on the dashboard Dean took the tape out and tossed it in the box that had formed on the seat before reaching in and taking another tape n its' place. Putting it into the player he waited for a bit to hear what would be offered instead.

“Ain't nothin' that I'd rather do, Goin' down. Party time! My friends are gonna be there too. I'm on the highway to hell...” This was perfect. Turning up the volume Dean forgot all about a quick and quiet escape and put his foot down on the gas pedal. The tires spun, kicking up dirt and grass, before finally catching and sending the Impala rocketing forward.

Joining form: John Connor

Character name: John Connor

Character source: Canon

Character history:
Born with the parents of Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese, John Connor was born to be the future resistance leader to fight Skynet. He was trained to survive and hack everything from computers to robots to terminators. John has a huge skill with technology and as the Messiah of the Human resistance, he is required to think like a machine at many times in order to lead the resistance.
Born to the parents of Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese, John Connor was born to be the future resistance leader to fight Skynet. He was trained to survive and hack everything from computers to robots to terminators. John has a huge skill with technology and as the Messiah of the Human resistance, he is required to think like a machine at many times in order to lead the resistance. Over time however, he is fighting the war and he disappears from the future to arrive in the Omniverse, a very confused and pissed man.

As a child, John was raised with foster parents, going from home to home as a delinquent on the run eventually having two foster parents who finally take him in. His mother was forced into a mental hospital because of she seeing skynet coming in the future and blowing up a computer store to try and stop it. John reprogrammed Terminators over time to guard his past self from dying.
[spoiler]During the final battle with Skynet, John sent back Kyle, his father to save Sarah Connor, his future mother, there was a slight complication. Skynet had figured away how to corrupt the original John Connor, turning him into a Terminator or the model T-3000.[/spoiler]

Physical Description: John is a tall man with black hair. He also has a y shaped scar on the side of his face from a battle in the future where he got hurt. He wears extremely hard armor and wears combat boots.


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

Starting Proficiencies:
> Ranged Proficiency- 1000 OM
> Area Attack- 600 OM
>Debuff Proficiency-1000 OM
[Total OM: 2600]


Starting Powers:
Basic Regeneration – 1300 OM

[OM used = 3900 OM]

Starting Moves:
>Plasma Gun [600 OM] - John has a few guns that accelerate a bolt of superheated hydrogen plasma to high speed using magnetic induction technology that shoot lasers of plasma. Mostly used to destroy Terminators in the future, destroy buildings and/or destroy metal bodied creatures etc.. Includes a rapid fire shot and a laser shot including a charge time of 5 seconds.

>ECM- [300 OM, Requires area attack]Weapon of the future that John uses that can paralyze a terminator or robotish like creature in its tracks when a shock is sent out. Works for a distance. This shock of the ECM sends a large shock through anybody. It causes shock inside the body or short-circuits the frequency or wiring, and sends a electrical bolt through bodies or robotic parts.

[Total OM-4400]

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

Character name: Ruby Rose

Character source: RWBY

Character history: I will be taking Ruby from the end of Volume 2 of the show RWBY.

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

Starting Proficiencies: Physical Strength (1000 OM); Ranged Proficiency (1000 OM)

Starting Powers: Burst Movement (800 OM); Super Jumping (Basic) (300 OM)

Starting Moves:

Crescent Rose - Scythe (Requires Physical Strength) -- 600 OM
The Crescent Rose is a High-Caliber Sniper-Scythe, which is a cross between a scythe and a high-caliber rifle. The scythe portion is primarily used at close range, and is incredibly sharp. If Ruby wants to add more power behind her swings, she can use the recoil from the rifle portion to propel herself towards her target, something she often does.

Crescent Rose - Rifle (Requires Ranged Proficiency) -- 300 OM
The second part of the Crescent Rose is the rifle portion. While in its Scythe Form, she can still fire the weapon, but it has its own Rifle Form to more effectively use this aspect of the weapon. It uses high caliber rounds, and can be fired at the rate and range of a standard sniper rifle, though it has very high recoil.

Spent OM: 4000
Leftover OM: 1000

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

(Note: I, uh, sort of registered before making this. Hence the underscore in the name I used here.)

Basically, it was going to sort of a larger version of the Nexus, connecting to all the Main Verses, but being so large it would be impractical to use it for "fast travel" as people use the Nexus for. It would be a star-filled void, pretty much, with a mass of planetoids, space-stations, and Knowhere (being the "hub") floating in it. There would be no sun, to speak of, though on the Planetoids themselves a day and night cycle would occur for... reasons. The edges of the Verse would loop around on themselves, meaning the size would be "proportionally" the same as any other Verse and you wouldn't be able to, say, travel to another star system. The Planetoids would be small, but would have normal gravity, and while they might be similar to the Verses we already have (ie: forest planet, desert planet), they'd be something like 20 miles in diameter, so as not to decrease the importance of our current Verses.

I also have an introduction Saga in mind for it involving the Yeerk from Animorphs as the Bad Guys and a yet to be determined Good Guy Faction vying for dominance. The PCs would be put on sides as it would work via planetary conquest. The Faction that manages to take control of either all the Planetoids, or the opposing side's home Planet would be the dominant Faction in the Verse and the loser would be the "rebels". Players would, rather than dying when they would normally do so, be converted to the opposing Faction's side, so no one would need to worry about dying off and having to watch the Saga from the sidelines.

Working on this now. Since people have expressed their desire for roles and such, this next one will have a theme. What theme exactly? A Zelda theme! There will be investigative roles, and other such which might make the game much more enjoyable! You may put your interest here now, if you'd like, or you can wait until the current one is finished. This will not kick off until the current game is finished.

My Skype says it's Luffy's birthdayso I'm not 100% but I think HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOBOTH OF YOU GUYS JUST ALEX ANYWAY HAVE A GOOD BIRTHDAY WITH MEAT AND STUFF :kirby: :proto: :luffy: hang:

*BANG* *BANG*

The point blank sound of gunfire demanded the attention of the two siblings, Miranda and November. It had been like this all afternoon. Father had forced them to fight each other, to "Train" for hours on end, until they couldn't move at all. Everyday was like this. After working in the fields or in town, they would return home to this madness. Training and sparring was once something the two actually enjoyed. It was something to fuel their childish sibling rivalry. Father had twisted it into something much more, and would not tell the two why.
"Again!", their Father commanded, the two sibling hesitant to do so.

Miranda scanned over her arms. Bruises of varying color covered them. Her muscles were swollen and hard to move. Cuts and scrapes dripped and trailed blood down her arm and spilled to the ground to be soaked up by the earth beneath her. Her breath was heavy and jagged, almost forced. Vision blurred and her balance was off a bit. Tears threatened to well up in her eyes but she held back. The rest of her body just in bad shape as her arms. Her grey eyes looked over her brother, who returned his gaze. He was tired as she was. He was hurting, but his injuries were not on her level.

Miranda was stronger and more durable than her younger, thinner brother. Her punches when they landed always made him cry out. However he was much quicker, able to dodge in and out of her moves with seemingly ease. As a result he was able to take less and give out more. Miranda thanked her pain tolerance for keeping herself up with him. It was something she had that her little brother lacked.

She stepped off and closed the distance in three strides, throwing an open palm at his face. She threw it too early. He was gone before it would have hit. Miranda wasn't able to avoid what came next. November had dropped to the ground and sent a powerful kick into her stomach.

Her breath was stolen from her, and her body slumped to the side. She curled up, cradling herself where she was hit. She coughed and struggled to catch her breath, all while under the watcheful gaze of her father and brother. She was done mentally and physically. Despite her father's urgent shouts and angry threats, she did not move a muscle. She lay there in the soft, golden colored grass. She drowned out all the pain, all the noise with her sobs, her coughs, her gags.

She stared off in the distance in time to see the sun finally dip beneath the surface of the horizon. Beautiful shades of red and orange illuminated the sky before her vision blacked out. There was nothing.. only her. Only her and the darkness

She awoke up to find herself bandaged from head to toe and tucked into her own bed. A fold-out table sat beside her, a wooden bowl full steamy stew. It smelled so good but it hurt to move. She failed to notice her brother sitting crosslegged beside the table, wolfing down his meal as if he hadn't eaten before.
"Mmmm com'onnn shish. Eat your supper or I will", he said, slamming down his bowl with a sound of satisfaction eminating from his lips. "Ahhhh that was good".

This was like him. He was always so childish, even though he just turned eighteen years of age. He just could not let it go. No matter what he always had that stupid grin plastered on his pale face. It was quite annoying, but she was used to it.

She sat up and took her bowl into her hands. Her muscles quivered uncontrollably, making her look extremely awkward when she drank it. The only thing good about it was its warmth. She couldn't quite pick out what made up this stew but she couldn't quite complain. She couldn't afford to. She finished her bowl and placed it beside her brother's. He would pick them up and stand. For a moment, his smile had faded. A more serious look took its place. Miranda blinked and it was gone, replaced by his stupid grin. He paused outside her room's door before exiting.

"You know.. i'm glad you are still kicking. I would have hated to rupture your guts. You just wouldn't be the same without them", he said with a giggle.

Miranda grumbled and turned painfully on her side, her eyes drifting closed. "Shut up and get out. I'm trying to sleep"
__________________________________________________________________________________________

"Hey! Look sharp"

Out of nowhere, a water canteen bounced off the side of Miranda's skull, effectively bringing her back to Earth. She blinked once. She blinked twice. She took in her surroundings. They were parked off to the side of the rode, taking a short rest break by request of the Mayor. Apparently he had "Business" in this plain, boring area.

From what they could tell they were still a good ways from the fortress they were checking for this turtle king. She had talked with one of the Koopa guards before their exit from the town.

"So.. who is your leader Guards-turtle? What is he like?". she had asked about thirty minutes earlier.

"Why that would be the mighty King Koopa, Bowser! He's like us, but bigger... and scarier!"

Bigger and scarier that koopa said. How scary can a turtle get. Personally she found the turtle guards a little cute. When she eventually settles down it would be nice to have a stuffed Koopa guarding her fireplace for an eternity. Maybe she could turn one into a shiny green table and have the rest as turtle stew. She blinked a third time and shook her head. 'Just drink the water...'

Her mask was removed in no time , with its corresponding screws laying inside of this metal imbrace She didn't bother fetching the hose this time. She tilted her head back and poured the cool liquid into her mechanical "Mouth", or rather a cylindrical, meat grinder-like device she used to eat and drink.

With her throat no longer parched she tightened the canteen's cap and tossed it over to Zack, nodding in silent thanks. The dear Mayor Orange that had accomponied them had just returned from his.. "Business" as he put it. She hardly cared in the first place, but he probably went to take a piss off in a nearby lava pool to see if it would eaven touch it before evaporating.

The Mayor's reaction to her jaw-less face was typical for most who weren't used to being around her. Zack was an exception and took no interest, care, or disgust to her.... far less than beautiful feature. He kept looking at her and the world with this huge grin on his face.

Mayor Orange plopped his probably slightly over weight ass beside Miranda, a little to close for comfort. He kept staring and eventually she grew tired of it.

"Keep staring dear Mayor and I'll have to forcibly take your jaw as a replacement"

"If you would put your Mask ba-", he started to reply quickly, only to be cut off

"IF YOU didn't realize it.... we are in a volcanic wasteland. It's hot and metal like this retain that heat. I am going to enjoy not having it on. Go bother Zack, you prick.", she grumbled, looking up at the red skies. If she liked anything about the place it would be that. Red was her favorite color. To her it symbolized strength and power, two principles she treasured.

The mayor slipped off of the rock that was beside Miranda and sat beside the soldier, Zack, who was seemingly enjoying the rest as she was. Well, minus the annoying Mayor.

The mayor observed the soldier's features and coughed to break the silence.."Well Sir. You seem strong. Have you done any physical labor like mining or farming before taking up that eh... steel girder of a sword you have there?", he asked lightly, tightly gripping his orange case in his grip.