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Character name: Dr. McNinja

Character source: A webcomic called "The Adventures of Dr. McNinja": <!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="http://drmcninja.com/">http://drmcninja.com/</a><!-- m -->

Character history: An alternate history that splits from the main storyline. This Dr. McNinja is from the ending of Futures Trading, after Dr. McNinja visits a dystopian future where the Earth is conquered by alien dinosaurs. His interactions in the Omniverse happen during his travels through a time portal at the end. The history does not really affect his abilities at all.

Stats:
ATK: 2
DEF: 0
SPD: 3
TEC: 5

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

Starting Powers:
Stealth (1200 OM)
Master Acrobat (400 OM)

Starting Moves:
Ninja Scalp (300 OM) - A simple, standard katana.

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

Personality: Gilgamesh is very egotistical. He believes he should be the center of all things in the universe and that the world should bow down before him. Being given everything since his birth, he is used to being treated like a King and is very dignified and spoiled and will often throw "tantrums" when he does not get his way. He believes he should rule only the finest people and all others should perish before his golden foot.

He often does great feats for his people, such as taking down the Bull of Heaven in order to protect his land and his people. While he will do these things, it does not mean he enjoys them. He hates to dirty his hand and will often dismiss people who are not worthy of him and will just end them quickly and go on the rest of his day.

However, he will tolerate people in order to get his way in the end and is not shy to using and manipulating people to get power. He often underestimates people, dismissing them and often losing due to his own mistakes in letting his guard down. His biggest flaw is his cocky nature which is always his downfall.

Possible Reactions: He has come to the Abyss in order to retrieve Artefacts and will crush anyone who dares to stand in his way. He will use, manipulate, and betray people who aren't planning to be in his Kingdom and will use strategy in order to get his way. He, however, has a sense of honor and will avoid betray those who plan to be in his Kingdom. In response to betray he'll act vengefully and will destroy those who dare betray him. When his goal is at hand, he becomes very serious and often cuts straight to the work rather than play with his enemies.

Combat Style: Gilgamesh hates to face people who are not worthy of him and will often just give it a half effort. He'll face them more as a joke rather than a real fight. He prefers to do it at a distance but won't shy from going in hand to hand combat if necessary.

Eligible Powers: Insight, Phasing

Moves: The King's Barrier, Enuma Elish-Super Move, Runes of Babylon-Power Up

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Relationships:
Rivals with Guu and Straizo
Faction Members with: Seraph and Crona

Extra: Gilgamesh CAN deal with people who he finds…unworthy just to gain an edge. Gilgamesh likes to taunt his opponents and degrade them when fighting. He loses in Canon due to his cockiness and puts in effort when it is too late.

Quotes: "Your things are my things"
"May your corpse entertain me, mongrel."
"I should be the center of all things in the universe"
"Who gave you permission to gaze upon me, Rabid dog"
"I am the rules!"
"Toying with you will relieve my boredom"

There's a chance that the start date may be moved back one day to May 26th.

It all depends on what my plans are that weekend. If I get invited to a family picnic or something for Memorial Day, I'll be there and unable to dedicate the focus to the chaos that will be Day 1.

I'll update everyone when I get news.

This is a thread that will provide you with a rough estimate of when I'm available and when I just simply won't be around. So if you find yourself flummoxed or wondering when I might get back to that PM, you can check here.

All times are CDT... just google 'Chicago time' if you're confused.

Monday through Wednesday

5:00 - 5:45 - Wake up, eat breakfast, relax, watch a tv show, sit on computer
5:45 - 6:55 - On public transit
6:55 - 7:35 - Pre-school office hours
7:35 - 10:45 - Class (I tend to have Omniverse open, and when my honors kids are doing independent work, I may say hello)
10:45 - 12:30 - Lunch
12:30 - 2:30 - Class
2:30-3:30 - After school tutoring
3:30-4:45 - On public transit

I don't do much once I get home, other than 'detox.' The girlfriend is done with school, so I have my evenings to myself.

On Thursday, I don't stay after school, so I head home at 2:45.

I have school off on May 25th (Day 1), am taking off May 26th, and I have a half day on May 27th. I've taken the following weekend 'off' from my girlfriend.

Purchases and Deductions for Galel go here!

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Buying: (whatever it is you want to buy).
Cost: (the cost) OM
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All moves must be approved here before purchase.

Location/Role: Unknown.

Story: The Tarrasque is something usually reserved for ‘boogey man’ type stories that parents tell adventurous children late at night. The stories are as old as ‘civilization’ in the Pale Moors, with original accounts being told by drunkards in the bars of Darkshire. More often than not, the stories revolved around the monster rising up from an underground resting place to gorge its nearly insatiable appetite before vanishing back into the deep recesses of the planet.

Soldiers who fought against the forces of Diablo also brought back stories of the Tarrasque (or a similar monster – the accounts always seem somewhat embellished) and claimed that the monsters from the Underverse always seemed to be digging when they weren’t on the march.

It is unknown when exactly the stories became reality. Some argue that the stories, repeated over and over again by countless villagers over the years, somehow gave flesh to the monster. Others argue that the Tarrasque has always existed in the Omniverse, and that it waking up and rampaging across the Moors is just a terrible and tragic coincidence. Whatever theory you may believe, the fact of the matter is that the monster did emerge from the ground, and it did go on a mindless (albeit lumbering) rampage across the Moors.

From its first sightings, the legend of the Tarrasque grew. Panicked civilians in Darkshire and the peasants in the wilderness claimed it was some sort of resurrected hell-monster from Diablo’s army. They claimed it was fueled by a ‘sin heart’ and wouldn’t rest until it destroyed the Omniverse. In other circles, there are whispers that an unknown faction was attempting to use the monster as a massive vehicle of war. Still others link the Tarrasque with the Blight that still rampages in the Tangled Green and the Pale Moors.

Whatever the case, the monster was allowed free reign to eat, stomp, and tear its way through the Pale Moors until it was confronted by a collection of primes. Brought together from different parts of the verse, the group of mercenaries and adventurers fought viciously against the creature before turning on one another to claim a prize left behind by the ailing monster.

Although a victor was claimed by the group, there is no corpse to prove the monster’s demise. All that they have is trinkets from chunks of its carapace, although rumors mention that one such trinket was imbued with a part of the monster’s primordial essence. Despite the joy felt in Darkshire and the rest of the Pale Moors when news of the Tarrasque’s defeat spread, there are still many who refuse to believe. They speak only of the old stories that the monster is immortal, and that even in defeat, it has only receded into a deep slumber until its strength returns again.

Is the Tarrasque truly dead? Or is it simply sleeping away its grievous wounds?

Only time will provide the answer.

Shay Cormac Wrote:(This is Shay Cormac, applying for an alternate character, as I recently accumulated 8,000+ OM! I really wanted to enter in as this guy here, mainly because of how much I love the inFamous series, and how much variety/potential Delsin has to write with.)

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Agnès had been escorted to her room not long ago. She had considered objecting, but each time she began stammering an attempt at saying something along the lines of "No, I don't need a room, but thank you for the offer", she was silenced. For servants, those below this King's command were quite powerful, though Agnès was not the type to be irritated by that. The decadence of this building made her feel almost sick, but she could not deny that the furniture and bedding in the building was beyond wonderfully comfortable. She had allowed all grace to flee from her a few minutes ago as she tumbled to the queen-sized bed in the room she had been brought to, which was equally as despicably decadent. She saw it fit to take this time for changing into something more comfortable - Perhaps it would be wise to change into the tunic she traveled in back in Luxendarc? She recalled the monochromatic tunic, with its knee-length skirt hemmed with black fur, its puffy black sleeves and gloves, its knee-high black boots with little fuzzballs hanging on strings...

After a while she felt weight on her chest. It was slight weight, of course, but weight nonetheless. Agnès opened her eyes to see the outfit folded nicely on her stomach, which she moved off to the side of the bed. She slid off of and stood up from the bed to the floor - Even though she had only spent a few moments lying down, she longed for more time to simply relax and rest her weary body. However, that time was not now, as there was definitely more to be done - But what?

It was then that Agnès heard a knock on the door. A deep knock, from some kind of heavy wood. Fitting for a palace to use such material. "I will be there in a moment!" the vestal called, hoping she was loud enough to be heard through the door. It wouldn't be right to keep someone waiting just for my own comfort, she thought, so I'll answer that now and change later. With a few surprisingly loud heeled steps across the floor, she reached the door, and from her position she caught a quick glance at herself from a mirror. She brushed her hair off to the side a little bit, putting it back into place as it normally was, then she opened the door and stepped back.

An unfamiliar face stood before her, a man of slightly pale but ageless skin, dark brown hair coloured like her own but pulled back, with a scar on said face by the right eye that Agnès found peculiar for a few moments, before scolding herself mentally for such a thought. Instinctively she offered a bow, like she had the King, and a smile as she raised her head. This man did not appear unsettled by eye contact, which she found comforting. "My apologies for that. My name is Agnès Oblige. What business might I have with you, sir?" she asked. His clothes looked about as pompous and extravagant if not more so than her own (Though she did not like how her own looked), making the vestal wonder if perhaps they were of similar positions. She did not ask, however, deeming it inappropriate to inquire on such a thing so early on. "Would you happen to be one of the King's men, perhaps?" the girl stepped aside and made room for the man to step into the room if he so desired.

Quote:GET OVER HERE SHAY AND WRITE STUFFS
OKEH
OKEH. THERE. DONE.

His clock app was broken.

As if he needed yet another reminder of how miserable the last few days had been, Proto Man was unable to tell the time. While he was sure that there were probably people who didn’t need a digital display to know how late it was, he wasn’t one of them. It also didn’t help that the Pale Moors were perpetually overcast, and it was a guessing game to figure out where the sun actually was before it drifted beneath the horizon.

Somewhere a few paces in front of him, Whirda walked in silence. With the Tarrasque ‘gone’ (Proto Man didn’t believe it was dead… there was no giant decaying corpse), the twosome had left behind a scene of desolation that would eventually blend in all too well with the rest of the mass graves that dotted the Pale Moors. They hadn’t spoken since the woman emerged last from whatever it was that they had all been sent to following the collapse of the Tarrasque. He didn’t ask any questions—he didn’t care enough.

And when she didn’t have anything to say either, they made their way back toward Darkshire in silence, with both of them limping and favoring their bruised, battered bodies as they journeyed back toward whatever safety the grim town would offer to them.

Much as they had before diverting their attention to the Tarrasque, neither of them requested that they stop for rest. For Proto Man, his systems were wrecked, but that didn’t mean he would stop functioning anytime soon. He didn’t know what kept Whirda’s flesh and bones moving, and he didn’t feel like having another conversation about whatever coursed through her veins.

So they walked, with the only sound the dull thud of Proto Man’s metal boots against the barren soil.

By the time that his body had repaired enough to start rebooting some of his more advanced functions, it was already dark overhead, and it was getting difficult to see more than a few dozen feet in front of their faces. “I think we should stop…” Whirda muttered with a voice like a ghost in the wind as she glanced over a bloody shoulder at her robotic associate. “The last thing we need is to be set upon by another monster or pack of drow.”

You can just kill those too, can’t you? Instead of speaking his mind, the preteen machine nodded his head and squinted through the darkness. Although he had to rely on his most sight overlay, he was still able to spot a small copse at the top of a hill near twenty or thirty feet from their position. “The trees and elevation should provide us with some cover and a vantage point.”

“Good eyes,” Whirda replied as she started toward the tree-covered hill.

Once the pair were entrenched inside the copse, they fell back into silence. Turning his attention from Whirda, Proto Man glanced down at his hands and saw that he was missing a few more parts than he had originally noticed. One of his fingers had lost a digit, and two other fingers had been scorched down to the metal endoskeleton during his last scuffle with the Spartan. While none of the grossly damaged fingers were responsive, the damage was mostly cosmetic. After all, he wasn’t going to be folding origami anytime soon—he’d rather his systems repair themselves enough to reboot the non-essential system apps that allowed him to function less like a mindless robot and more like an integrated member of whatever the hell you considered the Omniverse (‘society’ didn’t seem like a fitting term… the place was too miserable to feel like one).

With a sigh, Proto Man stared out into the darkness and waited the night away as his body slowly tried to repair itself.