Retane is mentioned like only one, in japanese sub's. He could be one of those three namek warriors technically. I picture him as the one closest to Piccolo's size. Thus he became my canon.

I have always pronounced it as Ruh-taun-ay. I will always do it as so. It actually fits and sounds right with alot of names that will reach the Secondaries im going to make... a few are latin... So yeah

Now you know lol

So.... I need permission from Guu, Alex, or Greg, to break the 4th wall, and deliver the 'Triumpth' Egg, to Deadpool. A sign would  be left, signed by DP and such....

Yes or no?

Isaac frowned as the Dante’s Abyss finalist jogged off to go meet Ganondorf. He was certain that Strazio hadn’t taken what he had said to heart and was planning on cracking heads. It couldn’t be helped Isaac figured, someone as aggressive as that prime would find trouble no matter where he went. Still the crimson-cloaked secondary sighed at the thought of Strazio disrupting such a peaceful town. It wasn’t his job to reign in psychotic primes; he had other plans in mind. It wasn’t on a random whim that he had braved the treacherous dunes, no, it was a calculated decision. He had spent the last year of his stay in the Omniverse gathering information and hopefully his trip to The Town with No Name would provide him with everything he needed.

An old friend that he had met during his time serving the Empire had offered him a lead. An old lady who lived in a small hutch and sold beads and baubles supposedly endowed with mystical properties. Whoever she was she supposedly had the information that Isaac was after and his informant was trustworthy. Using his good arm he reached into the inner pockets of his red and black cloak. Inside was crumpled map that he did his best to flatten with his one hand. Even though he had grown used to missing his left arm over the years it still troubled him every now and then. The old biddy was around the corner and he made his way to her humble hovel.

The small storefront was nestled deep in an alleyway off the main streets of the town. A cracked wooden sign hung precariously over the doorway. The sign’s paint was chipped and read “Mystical Merca’s Market”. Isaac smirked at the simple alliteration and walked towards the sand-marked wooden door. Hesitantly Isaac pushed the creaky door open and was greeted by an array of multicolored lights and soft jazz playing in the background. He laughed slightly as he stepped into the tacky store. All manners of trinkets and charms lined the walls of the small establishment. Behind a weather counter was an even more weathered women with soft white hair.

“Greetings, welcome to Merca’s Mystical Market...” she furrowed her brow and waved her hand “er rather, welcome to Mystical Merca’s Market, I’m Mystical Merca.”

“Hello...” Isaac walked past a row of strange statues and peered past the counter to read the labels on old mason jars.

“So what brings you in today? Love potion, revenge potion, or just a good old fashion sleep potion?” she crooned excitedly.

Isaac smiled and lowered his hood “actually, no nothing like that. I was told you might be able to point me in the right direction. I’m trying to find Omni.”

Merca’s lithe frame shook as she laughed. Isaac frowned and asked “what?”

“Oh nothing, nothing. Just strange that someone would come to ol' Merca asking for directions. Yep, yep give me a moment lemme grab my book” she rushed off to a back room and left Isaac alone with a store full of oddities. Several minutes passed and he began to grow worried for the elderly lady. Carefully he peeked his head into the backroom and called for her. There was no response and his gut began to tie itself into a knot. Behind him the old creaky door swung open with such force that is was nearly ripped from the hinges. A large burly gentleman with dark skin and a mean disposition stalked forward. In his hands he carried a large scattergun, a familiar Empire weapon pattern. Behind him was a considerably smaller, but no less mean looking soldier. He wore combat gear and carried a small assault rifle. Neither of them looked like the kind of guy you’d want to go ten rounds with.

“Uh... Can I help you?” Isaac asked, knowing full well why they were here. His informant must have laid a goddamned trap for poor Isaac. Even the old lady was in on it he figured. Now the two dogs of the Empire were here to bring him back to his cage. The larger of the two pointed his shotgun at Isaac and spoke with a mean baritone voice.

“You’re coming with us Isaac, we can do this peacefully or I can blow your head off.”

Isaac raised his two arms, revealing his bandaged stump of a left arm. The two bounty hunters nodded to each other in silent agreement and moved to cuff their quarry. Isaac had to think fast, he wasn’t about to let his search for Omni end here. Slowly he took a step backwards and found himself backed against the counter. Blood started to soak the bandages wrapped around his stump. This was his power, he could control his blood and turn it into a macabre weapon. Unfortunately the two hunters were well aware of his power and they opened fire at the poor secondary. A bullet grazed his shoulder and he dove to the side, behind a cabinet of strange reagents.

“Come on out Blood Lance! We’ll play nice!” the smaller man taunted. They moved with military precision and get their eyes glued on Isaac’s hiding nook. It would be mere moments before they were upon him. Isaac hated spilling blood and he hated violence, but he wouldn’t allow two mooks of the Empire to stop his quest. Tendrils of blood whipped from his stump and crashed into he nearby cabinet. It was a gamble, but Isaac wasn’t afraid to take a risk. The glass jars and dry ingredients of the cabinet tumbled to the ground. The puddle of ingredients began to fizzle and fortunately they reacted explosively. A large shockwave rattled the small store and sent every onto their asses. It blasted a hole in the wall and Isaac wasted no time escaping through it. The two bounty hunters weren’t chumps and were soon chasing their quarry through the alleyways and backstreets of the Town with No Name.

Warning... racism may be a subject from here on out

[spoiler]It's nationwide I assume, but I figured I would get permission to start this topic... Some of you aren't even in our nation of US... But meh.

South Carolina is a stubborn State as it is on alot of things as it is... We deal with racism daily.White cop shot a black man like a month or so ago. It was an issue here.

A stupid fucking idiot, I can't remember his name, walked into one of the oldest churches in our state (Heard it was more then just the state but meh), and shot up the church. A predominately black church... Killed 9, one of them a representative of our state He was white and has been caught. Was found to have pictures with the "Confederate Battle Flag" in them.

Now they are in debate about taking the Flag down from our state house. The most Stubborn State ever.

There has been Unity and Rebellion from what I heard. People walked on a bridge...Uniting because of those 9. The new 'Black Panthers' from, what I hear, want to split us apart. That was slapped down.

Then there is the main topic. Removing the 'CBF' from SC's state grounds... It was removed from a top of the State Building and moved there... so many years ago. Think it was an NAACP issue?

NAACP and others see the .CBF'it as a representation of racism, and shit. I know the original Confederate flag had the 'CFB' in the upper left corner, and was white. I know what the creator said about it.

I myself, am a glorified Redneck. I have heard the word 'nigger' word used plenty of times. I may have used it a total of 10 times in my life.

My first was when I was under 6. Black man walked in the yard, and I said, "A nigger is here" Wasn't my fault. I got a spanking. Wasn't my fault. Dad or mother taught me the word. I grew up a minority... Seen BOTH sides... Use to bitch at Jamie, an ex, for using the word. I hated it. It was cool for them(THe kids that came over), black and white, because she didn't care for race, though her family had race issues.

I have also been in houses that respect their heritage, Black and White. A few white people I know, have the'CBF' on their wall. Never saw racism in them at all

Hispanic's see the 'CBF' as a Redneck flag...

I am a redneck.

I think about Heritage. I over came Racism, long ago. I don't hate anyone because of their skin color. I look at you and respect you the same way you respect me.


That being said, personally I have never looked at the "CBF" as a symbol of racism... just as heritage.

I've looked at rednecks that show racism... and kept quiet... I know im different...( I'm OK with being an ally with DP... LMAO ) I am a redneck though. I was born and raised here...

Personally... I'm unsure how I feel about the flag being removed. I have never seen it as racism. But I also know that, I may be different. But I never related it towards racism...

But what are your thoughts? About it all?

All of it?[/spoiler]

Planning out my second character, who will be an OC from an established canon.

Is it acceptable to tell an origin story through dreams in the Astral Realm? The format would essentially be that each post is a snippet of the story, and once it's finished it wouldn't be too difficult to fill in the gaps. But the story would involve battles, multiple characters, and so on that set up how my character got to where he is now. Basically, I've got enough pre-Omniverse story dreamed up that I'd like to flesh it out, too.

I just want to make sure the limits because I realize it's essentially earning OM for things they did outside the Omniverse, even though they are dreaming in and experiencing it again inside the Omniverse.

Black. All Guilmon could see was pitch black. It wasn't the pitch black that came from a lack of light, though. Guilmon could see his body just fine. It was as red as it had ever been. One could only assume that Guilmon was alone, or dead. He tried to take a few steps, but with no landmarks - or land, for that matter - to lead him, there was no way to tell whether he was actually traveling or not. The lack of land only compounded Guilmon's confusion.

Involuntarily, Guilmon blinked. In the split second that his eyes were shut, a white creature had appeared in front of him. This creature was sitting casually on the non-existent ground, as if it had been there the entire time. The diminutive humanoid was completely white. It had a strange, white glow that didn't seem to affect the "darkness." Even more strange was that the creature's face had only one feature: a giant, smiling maw.

As the creature began to explain Guilmon's situation to him, Guilmon began trying to circle around it. The pure white being made no movements, but somehow always managed to move with Guilmon's eyes - always in front, always "staring," and always smiling.

To Guilmon, this white creature looked kinda like a Yukidarumon, but it was too thin and too short. And Yukidarumon had eyes and a nose, but no mouth. Guilmon decided to call it "Warudarumon." Even thought it was quite clear that "Warudarumon" was no Digimon, Guilmon didn't know what else to call it. When "Warudarumon" slowly stretched out its hand towards Guilmon, he grew excited. He had not bee paying attention to "Warudarumon," so Guilmon thought that the little shimmering light in its hand was food. Opening up his mouth, he began to salivate, hoping that it tasted as good as it looked. However, he was sorely disappointed when the simmering orb floated to his claws, rather than his mouth.

Confused, Guilmon closed his mouth, lifted up the sphere of many colors, and tilted his head to the side like a puppy. The shiny globule began to seep into Guilmon's reptilian hide.

Omni Wrote:I'll be watching... and waiting.

Jak and his friends had taken the time to arrive at the sprawling city of Coruscant within a few hours. When they did arrive, they arrived on the most beautiful part of the city, and the most clean part so far.

The Commander stared around the beautiful buildings and kept quiet, no need to attract attention just yet especially if your friends just happened to be the ones who were in DA themselves. Torn kept things quiet as he stared at the white guards who just happened to be walking by. They happened to be giving them strange stares, especially at Jak.

The stormtroopers had reminded him of a old job he had done many years ago. A Krimzon guard commander. Except these people wore no red helmets, no red or blue armor. He was not that Commander of the Freedom guard no more since Omni had taken him here.

Daxter had taken his annoying time, insisting on exploring the city but it was Jak's job to watch his friend not his.

Daxter scampered through the city eventually running into a stormtrooper.

"Halt, isn't that Daxter, that friend of Jak's from DA? I heard of that Jak.... he made it farther than people expected.. He killed quite a few people."

Oh the perks of being famous around a lot of worlds...

And that was sarcastic...

Jak stared around and noticed a pair of stormtroopers looking down at Daxter and frowning.

"HALT"

That sound wasn't good. Jak ran and grabbed Daxter and the mess began. The stormtroopers began to shoot on command and Torn made sure the three of them got out alright.

"You alright guys?"

"Yeah, thanks Torn. Owe ya one later."

Jak used some omninum to summon his blaster and a few minutes it arrived in his hand. It was always better to be prepared also in bad situations Dark Jak could be used only if necessary though.

Daxter groaned What the heck was that all about?!

Jak sighed "It's my DA fame, i'm somewhat famous around everywhere."

Coruscant thrilled Mickey. The fast pace of this new, weirdly futuristic verse overwhelmed the little mouse, hypnotizing him more effectively than the serene locales of Camelot. Sure, the grassy fields and high battlements of the medieval realm painted a glorious picture, but what was he supposed to do with pictures? The city satiated his newfound thirst for adventure much more readily; after all, within his first moments here he found himself smack dab in the middle of a high speed chase.

In the end, he had lost the Twi’lek girl—that’s what Riku had called her, Twi’lek—and been left to deal with the boy, who claimed to know Mickey from their home world. The mouse, for his part, had never in his life met the boy, and dismissed his supposed “memories” of the Heartless invasion as one of Omni’s ploys—though, perhaps, he would admit, the matter deserved further thought.

That could come later, though. Now, he wandered around the many top tiers of Coruscant, busying himself with the different attractions. They literally had everything here—he had spent hours going up and down in a contraption called an elevator, pored over several books in a big tower called the Library of Coruscant, and even, at last, gotten that cheesecake from the factory place he had passed before getting caught up in that alien girl’s escape. For the record, it tasted even more delicious than he had ever imagined it could. This big city proved to be quite the excursion for the mouse, who had been looking for something more fun and relaxing ever since leaving the heck-hole that was Dante’s Abyss.

Tier 1 stretched out before the mouse, looking altogether like his big, shiny playground. He scurried down the roads, in and out of alleyways, looking for his next big adventure.

It turned out, however, the adventure was prepared to come to him.

“Stop right there,” a mechanically-altered voice spoke up behind him. The King turned to see a small squadron of white-armored soldiers—stormtroopers, he’d heard them called—clanking their way toward him. One of the soldiers tightened his grip on his futuristic rifle. The mouse’s nerves suddenly went through the roof. He hadn’t broken any laws or gotten into any trouble, really—what did they want with him?

“You talkin’ to me?” the mouse asked, though his inflection was much friendlier than that of the more famous utterance. A few meters away, the squadron stopped, looking like they wanted to keep a safe distance. Silly stormtroopers, Mickey giggled inwardly, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. “Whatsa matter, fellas?” Mickey squeaked, taking a step toward them.

The anxious trooper yanked his gun up, aiming it straight at the mouse’s gargantuan head. Almost automatically, Mickey’s hands shot up. The soldier in front—the leader, Mickey supposed—lifted a hand, signling the other trooper to stand down. “B-but—” the nervous one stammered, “they said he’s dangerous, captain.” Mickey’s brow furrowed—who said he was dangerous? And why the heck would they think that? He supposed he had showed off a good display of power in Dante’s Abyss, but these guys had nothing to fear from him; they were just enforcing the law.

“Stay calm, soldier,” the leader held his gesture firm, and the scared guy lowered his weapon. The captain turned back to Mickey. “Mickey Mouse, under the authority of the Empire and its great leader, Emperor Palpatine, you are hereby placed under arrest.”

Mickey waited for the punch line.

“…alright, I’ll bite,” he shrugged, chuckling, “what exactly am I under arrest for? I haven’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“The Empire has the authority to place individuals it deems particularly dangerous under arrest,” the captain explained, and Mickey blinked a few times, puzzled. “The policy is in place so that our researchers may study you and discover how much of a threat you pose to us—if you pose a threat at all.”

“Whoa, wait just a goshdarn minute,” Mickey halted the man’s explanation. “You’re tryin’ to arrest me so you can turn me into a lab rat?” The mouse lowered his gloved hands, taking a few steps away from the contingent of pearly-white soldiers. The captain raised his hand again, and immediately the squadron’s rifles went up in unison, almost like perfectly-practiced choreography. Now, they all aimed for him. “Well, there’s absolutely no need for that,” the mouse rolled his eyes.

“Or, at least,” he continued, “there wasn’t.”

Shots rang out, and the King launched into a backflip. Red lasers scorched the ground where he stood as he maneuvered out of the way, and immediately ducked down a side alley. The clinking of the stormtroopers’ white armor followed him into the alleyway, and so the mouse broke into a sprint.

In his right hand, his Keyblade materialized, and he spun on his heel, bringing the blade up in front of him just as one of the blood-red energy bolts sped toward him. It bounced off the blue metal of his Star Seeker blade, along with several other bolts Mickey quickly deflected. “The more you fight,” the leader said, “the worse this is for you.”

“Actually,” the mouse shrugged, “the more I fight, the worse it is for you.” He aimed the Keyblade for the anxious soldier and shot off a Pearl, which collided into its target post-haste. He stumbled backwards, dropping his rifle on the ground with a thunk. When the piece of black metal slammed into the metallic ground of Coruscant’s top tier, it fired off another shot, which sped toward the mouse.

Mickey flipped clumsily out of the way, stumbling over the tier’s edge and plummeting off the side of the platform into the city’s lower levels. High above, the stormtroopers rallied around their injured comrade.

An endless sea of darkness spiraled beneath his heavy eyelids. Gruff, jolting movements brought the sensation of life back into his raw joints while light blurred at the corners of his eyes. A sharp, condensed stream of air whizzed by his nose. Another pinched at his ear. Something clanged against his metal appendage and in a swirl of motion he wobbled to his feet, only to crack open his eyes and see something that resembled what he had just escaped.

A war-zone.

The massive scale of applause erupted into a thunderous roar as the tall Prime stood in his confidently groggy pose. The Fairy Tail wizard could only look up to see the many indistinct faces angling down at him from the funneling shape of benches chiseled from rock. The ultimate grandeur of the stadium didn’t hit him until his eyes had fully opened. After blinking a few times, Gildarts could finally see the fresh morning light that shimmered on the glittering patches of metal and sand.

“KILL HIM!”

“RIP ’IS THROAT OUT!”

“SHOW HIM WHAT HAPPENS TO THE LOSERS!”

The crowd jeered and their voices mixed with the haze of battle. The shuddering sound of steel-on-steel broke through each death threat and his eyes were pulled from his frightful audience and fell upon the many battling gladiators, whom all wore plates of armor and each bounced back blows with a freshly welded shield. There was even one soldier with a fluffy plume on his gleaming helmet.

Another arrow shot towards him, this time, he moved his metallic limb and struck it away with a swift backhand that sparked into flint as silver matched pointed silver. Alert and dismal eyes flashed in the direction of the archer. The immortal’s aloof expression fell into one of battling rage as he became more perceptive to the scent of blood that hung in the air. The same crimson that splattered on the dingy ground streaked down from the tip of his left ear. His fixed attention created a distance between the numbed sliver of pain as his other hand slowly moved up to his nicked ear with a feeling of isolated concern.

“BASTARD! DON’T MISS NEXT TIME!”

Someone from the crowd shouted to cheer on the bowman.

Gildarts had awoken covered in dust, his unamused eyes swept the vehement storm of battle that he had been thrown into. Questions such as, Where am I? Would have filled any normal man’s mind, followed by, How in the world did I get here? Yet, Gildarts remained calm and level-headed as another flash of bound steel, wood, and feather streamed past him.

His body adapted to the movements of the men that surrounded him, a man’s sword swung to his left – nearly slicing his cape in two – as a shield was thrown aside from a vanquished warrior and fell skittering to the Prime’s feet. All this, while arrows from that archer far in the distance sliced like wind around him. So rapid was the rate of fire that Gildarts could not tell if it was he or those behind him who were the real targets. It was harder to hit something that moved, yet Gildarts was the only one who hadn’t drawn a single step. It was a powerful and unspoken challenge to the warriors around him.

A thrown javelin speared the man closest to him, who was caught mid-swing with his hammer behind Gildarts’ seemingly oblivious head; the instantly-dead man fell to the ground faster than the hammer in his still warm hands. The serene momentum of Gildarts’ slowly revolving head almost brought silence to the eternal sound of ripping gristle and splashing gore. Another arrow flicked his cheek, drawing a thin strand of blood just under his eye.

“OI, IT’S LUFFY!”

Some fellow from the crowd blurted out as laughter erupted.

"THAT'S RIGHT! KILL THAT BASTARD LIKE HE KILLED JON SNOW!"

Triumphant howls could be heard for miles.

Menace thrived in his smoldering gaze. Gildarts could take a hundred men, and those who had chosen to attack him had been sadly misinformed. Gildarts, though merciful to his friends, was far from it when facing his enemies.

“Lay down your sword.” The Prime’s words sliced through the grunts of battle as he met a face mottled with dried blood and a sword raised to strike him down. “You don’t know who you’re up against.”

A thin smirk grew upon the Roman’s lips, as eyes were separated by a gold-plated “t” attached to his helmet and curving upon his nose. “How could I not know? These men all signed up for this tournament to battle you, and then you go and show up half-drunk and collapsed on the field? I should have speared you when I had the chance, but some other worthless scum kept me from getting to you, so, I made them into my newest paint job.” The scorch of his ruthless grin intensified, “Red and gold, doesn’t that make me royalty?”

The serious gaze that remained on Gildarts’ hardened face resembled that of motionless stone. His stance, massive and yet open waited with grim consequence. Resolve steadied the Prime’s eyes and intimidated the his squirming opponent. This was not the gold one that Gildarts was looking for, but he certainly had the right attitude. The Roman snarled at the silence.

“I don’t like to kill a man while he ain’t armed, but for you I’ll make an exception, just because you’ve been such a great disappointment to me.” The haughty opponent sneered as an arrow, too, whizzed past him.

“You’ve made a few mistakes, but your most recent will be your downfall." A pause, "I’m always armed.” The low tone in the wizard’s voice fell into that of warning rather than restrained rage. He gripped to control the surge of power and condensed his magic in his good hand while the throes of battle whirled around him.

“Oh, just a few? Worse than your taking a nap in the middle of all this? What kind of man are you? Though I will admit, so far you seem to have gotten off without too much damage. At least, until now.” The striking sheen of his stained blade slanted in the air.

“You only have one chance. After that, don’t expect me to hold anything back.”

“I didn’t enter to let you live. I wanted to slay some of the Primes from Dante’s Abyss, I would have hoped to defeat the champion, but he didn’t show up to our little party. So, I guess the weaker ones will do just fine.”

“Is that what this place is? Another slaughter?” Gildarts withheld a grimace of distaste.

“The prize goes to the first secondary who can slay you. I’ll tell you a secret,” His smile broke into a boasting chuckle, “I’m not even doing it for the reward, I’m doing it because I want to. Or maybe just because I can.”

“OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”

“KILL THAT BASTARD!”

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! MAKE THAT PRIME PAY!”

“You’ve got a nice rank and made it pretty far in the show. That only means when I take you down, my standings in the Omniverse will grow. And everyone will know my name.”

"So that's the game, is it?" Gildarts put his conviction to words.

The Roman’s blade arched toward Gildarts, “Prepare to die!”

[youtube]mLnTbqocrsc[/youtube]

I whipped this up on RPG Maker 2003, frame rate on the recording is a little low as fraps couldn't pick it up so I used some free software and fraps for the sound.