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  Tips/methods for getting out of a writers block
Posted by: Darth Vader - 05-03-2015, 12:02 PM - Forum: The Whateververse, Man - Replies (11)

Soooooooo...

This seems to be happening a lot. I can't really tell whether it's either me burning out from writing too much or I'm getting distracted by other things too easily. I hear a lot of people tend to have methods or things they do that help them getting into the writing mood, and whilst I'm usually able to just sit down and channel all my being and attention into writing, there's select times (like now) where I just can't :3

So, what do you guys do to get yourselves in the writing mindset? I'd like to hear.

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  Remilia Scarlet Log
Posted by: Zelda - 05-03-2015, 12:22 AM - Forum: Purchases and Deductions Log - Replies (5)

Purchases and Deductions for Remilia Scarlet go here!

Current post count: (your current post count, viewable below your avatar)
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)

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  Enlightenment and Entropy
Posted by: Okor - 05-02-2015, 05:59 AM - Forum: The Nexus - Replies (1)

Okor shuffled along the thin precipice, looking out with his one eye across the barren wastes. The crumbling edifice of the Broken Temple loomed over the flat, empty desert. His view was obscured by a blast of abrasive dust, reminding him to continue on. Swirling around the point of the monument were swarms of furies, pathetic excuses for Daemons, seeking the welcoming embrace of mortal flesh and bone, a puppet to manipulate, to extend their limited time in reality.

He risked another glance outwards, keeping his back to the wall, the names scrawled there worn into non-existence by the constant wind. The Ziggurat seemed to stretch endlessly upward, but the Daemons always remained, testing his faith. As he rose the makeshift pick forged from the bone and sinew of those who trod the path before him, driving it into the broken stone ahead of him, he reminisced, thinking back to his earlier trek...

7 Hours Earlier, The Bone Desert

Okor plodded across the field of bones, crunching them under his armoured feet. He took a moment to breathe in the heady aroma of powdered bone, gazing out across the land of death. He continued on, ramshackle carts laying in ruin, surrounded by the remains of those who proved wanting. His eye, dripping pus, spotted movement on the Horizon. Some of them were strong enough to live, yet weak enough to die. He drew his blade as they advanced towards each other. A mob of the faithless, their skin dried and stretched across weak bones, eyes rubbed raw by the endless storms wracking the planet. They shambled forth as their legs disintegrated, their hunger and rage driving them forward when their dessicated flesh failed. They were clad in trinkets and rags, indicating their previous existence as pilgrims, and their maddened fury indicated their current existence as another test.

One threw itself upon his pauldron, clawing and biting at the flesh-fused ceramite. Chuckling at this display, Okor skewered the wretch, watching it scream once more as it faded into dust. Raising his bare arm, a Faithless surged towards it, screeching, already salivating at the prospect of a meal. In its hunger, it had neglected to factor in the blade completing its descent. As the blade cleaved through its neck, it transformed into dust, holding its form for a split second as it was swept away by the wind. He rammed his fist through an approaching creature, taking a moment to savour its disintegration, a wave of dust spreading through his body from its abdomen. The final Faithless flung itself towards his stomach, screeching as it met only fused bone, shattered talons scrabbling against the irregular mass. Okor grabbed it by the neck, and raised it to his helmed face. Its eyes gazed vacantly ahead, the corneas ripped away by the dust storms, leaving only raw, red orbs. His own eye gazed into it, judging it, and finding it wanting.

"Such a gift you have been given." His voice was like coffin lids slamming shut, a grim finality that could not be escaped. "You were given, life, power, gifts. And you let them break you." The creature moved its maw, broken and rotten teeth dripping with slime, attempting to bite at the flesh beneath his power armour. "From dust to dust. From filth to filth. From life to death." He powered his head into the creature's skull, the force snapping its neck, shattering its braincase, causing it to blow apart into a cloud of dust, coating Okor's face in a grey powder. Wiping the mess from his eye, he looked towards the path ahead, gazing at the bones that substituted for sand.

14 Hours earlier, the town of Pusula
Okor hunched himself over in the septic tank as the warp-spawned winds ravaged the surface. Filth brought itself up to his chest, staining his armour. He laughed heartily, reveling in the presence of those sharing the shelter with him. It was a gurgling laugh, one that suggested things worse than phlegm clung to his lungs. "Tell me again Aarkos, how you escaped the hulk." His cyclopean gaze was focused on a man on the other side of the tank, whose flesh was sloughing off, revealing a variety of open sores, which were frequently immersed in the filth of the tank. He had no doubt that underneath this filth, the man had a distended gut, a sure sign of Nurgle's favour. The man spoke, his voice struggling to escape mucous, phlegm, and blood.

"So there I was, sheltering inside a heap of eviscerated corpses. The Genestealers were stalking the halls, and I had all of 5 shots left in my laspistol. I was thinking how I could possibly live, but then I remembered that Nurgle always provides. I just focused my gifts, and walked forward." The man chuckled, his laugh echoing strangely. Reality bled around the man, a side effect of his sorcerous power. After a moment, he found the strength to spoke again. "They turned to what they came from when they approached, carapaces turning to primordial soup. The Hive makes them deadly, but there is no thing in existence that can stave off his gifts. Have faith, and burn with the desire to live. Nurgle wants nothing more from his good children." All around the septic tank men gurgled their agreement, reveling in this simple truth.

Now, The Broken Temple
Okor clambered atop the ledge, scanning the names scrawled into the chipped and broken stone. Someone here had tried to preserve the universe in stone, trying to stave off eternal entropy. He picked up a chunk of stone, looking over it in his hands as the furies screeched, circling the peak of the ziggurat. So much for that. He gently replaced the broken piece of stone, and pressed forward along the ledge, shielding his eye from the onslaught on the wind. In the distance, warp-lightning crackled in the dust storms, promising another infernal tempest. He would have to move quickly, if he wished to exist in any form save a pile of rotting sludge. He quickened his pace, eagerly running his eye along the whisper-thin writings on the wall and floor, searching for his own name. Ahead laid a stone, broken from the wall. Kneeling to pick it up, he looked it over, a grin blossoming on his face. Ok-

Then, there was light.

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  Heroes of the Storm
Posted by: Illidan Stormrage - 05-02-2015, 01:55 AM - Forum: The Arcade - Replies (5)

Currently in closed beta but in June I think it's going open? Not sure. Anyone in there at the moment? It'd be good to play with non-PUGs for a change. My Battle.net is Civic#6864.

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  The Throw Threads at Proto Man Thread
Posted by: Proto Man - 05-01-2015, 10:28 PM - Forum: Dante's Abyss Junkyard - Replies (8)

I've been really terrible the last month and a half with reading.

I'll be bumping this thread again in 3 weeks during the pre-show, but I wanted to get some initial stuff now.

Reply with a link to a thread you definitely want me to read. It can be for whatever reason (backstory, character development, epic sh*t, whatever). Pick a thread that you know is a required reading for someone who wants to get a grasp of your character.

Like I said - I'll ask a second time during the pre-show.

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  OmniLottery Poll
Posted by: Monkey D. Luffy - 05-01-2015, 09:09 PM - Forum: Omniverse Discussion - Replies (32)

I've been toying with an idea, basically it will consist of players purchasing raffle tickets with their OM. At the end of every Fortnight, I will draw a winning ticket. Depending on participation, I'll likely draw a Runner-Up ticket, and possibly even a Tertiary ticket. All of the OM acquired via ticket purchases will be pooled together to sum up the prize values, so more players = higher rewards.

Tickets will cost 25 OM each, and players may purchase up to 4 tickets. The higher the risk, the greater the gain, the better your chances.

Also, as a special bonus, unique items and goodies will be up for grabs as well. I will either hint at what it may be, or simply display the name of said items. So there's more incentive than just extra OM. I just need to see who would be interested in this idea, because I'm not going to do it if only a couple players plan to play along.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Criticisms? GO!

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  Get Advice Thrown at you by the Proto Man
Posted by: Proto Man - 05-01-2015, 08:44 PM - Forum: Dante's Abyss Junkyard - Replies (82)

Post here and I'll give you my serious advice and predictions. Feel free to post again once the pre-show begins and during the contest itself if you'd like to so see how my advice changes.

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  Okor Paleblood
Posted by: Okor - 05-01-2015, 07:24 PM - Forum: Roster - No Replies

Name: Okor Paleblood
Spent OM: 38,400
Proficiencies: (3600); Physical Strength (1000), Debuff (1000), Ranged Proficiency (1000), Area Attack Proficiency (600)
Powers: (5000/8000); Survival (2000), Advanced Regeneration (1800), Disassemble (800), Hive Mind (400)
Moves: (3300); Plague Blade (600), Necrotic Touch (600), Phosphex Bolt Pistol (300), Rad Rounds (300), Hunger (600), Blight Grenade (300), Cultist Blades (300), Cultists Barrage (300)
Super Moves: (3000); Septic Shiv (600 OM), Winds of Chaos (800 OM), Gigaton Hammer (800 OM), Phosphex Bomb (800 OM)
Transformations: (6000); Grave Warden (1000 OM), Dreadnought (2000 OM), The Burned Man (2000 OM), Battle Trance (1000 OM)
Assists: (1000); Cultists (1000 OM)
Items: (2300); Dataverse Device (200 OM), Communicator (100 OM), Spiritual Enlightenment (2000 OM)
Artefacts:
Consumed OM: 1200
Bases:
Unlocks: Stat Increase I (ATK), Stat Increase II (ATK), Stat Increase III (DEF), Stat Increase IV (TEC)
Base stats:
ATK: 3(+1)(+1)
DEF:5 (+1)
SPD:0
TEC:2 (+1)



General Information

Full Name: Okor Paleblood.
Title: 14-4-8-7. Fourteeth Legion, Fourth Company, Eighth Squad, Seventh Marine. Dean of Security.
Pronunciation: Oh-Kor
Name Meaning: Derived from Kwashiokor, a disease stemming from protein deficiency.
Also Known As: Fanatic, Traitor, Heretic, Son of Mortation, Dean, Prophet.
Symbol:
[Image: death_guard___nurgle_by_teukkiss-d4z6p35.jpg]
  ID Number: 14-4-8-7, Contestant 31.
  Theme Song:


  Voice Actor:



Age: Approximately 10218, greatly altered due to the warping effects of the Immaterium.
Gender: Male.
Race: Space Marine (Corrupted/Blessed By Nurgle).
Occupation: Champion of Nurgle, Prophet of Plagues, Vector of Virulence.

Moral Alignment: Believes himself to be above such petty things: He propagates the eternal cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Roughly neutral evil, if one wishes to label him as such.
Faction: The Institute.
Known Associates: Tartaros, Nealaphh, Colonel, Weiss Schnee, The Bandit With No Name, Hiro Protagonist, Samus, Fiara.
Family: The Death Guard. All natural relatives have long since died.

Primary Objectives: Bring Nurgle to the Omniverse, find his way home. Kill Omni.
Secondary Objectives: Conquer the Tangled Green.
Priorities: Becoming a figure of Legend, spreading the worship of Nurgle.
Motivation: His faith sustains him.

Psychological Characteristics

Written Personality: Okor is honest, and honourable. This boils down to him informing those in his path that he will stab them in the front, rather than the back, should it come down to it. He truly believes in the nobility and truth of his crusade to bring entropy and decay back to the Omniverse, to break the endless creation that Omni has bred and to revoke the immortality the smiling one has bestowed to his favoured demiurges. He is a merciless combatant against those in opposition to his goals, but has been known to adopt a paternal bent when dealing with youth that do not display the aggravating arrogance so many Primes are known for. His gifts of knowledge, philosophy, and plague are shared freely, often times all at once. Despair is one of Nurgle's domains, and to slowly butcher a foe while explaining why they cannot fight back brings joy to his cold, dead hears.

Known Languages: Low Gothic, High Gothic, Daemonic (Nurgle). While completely Fluent in Daemonic speech, he is unable to read and write with much proficiency in Gothic.
Lures: Anything with meaning in this realm. These things are few in number: Mortals, Artifacts, opportunities to forge a legend. He will leave his scars upon this world, and Omni will never see them healed.
Turn Offs: Arrogance, weakness, over-reliance on Omnillium, foolishness, dishonesty.
Information Recall: Space Marines are blessed with impressive memories, although Okor's advanced age has started to eat away at his memories.
Manias: Okot's mind is a warped and twisted place. Splintered psyches drift through his mind, alternate personalities that once strove to assert themselves lurk in the darkest corners of his psyche, fearful of his murderous will. Temples to his dark god forged from the bones of his own doubts and weaknesses made manifest rise high into the black skies of his soul. Guilt lurks within there, as well: His hands are stained with the blood of his own Kin, a slain sister reminding him of what he once did to survive.
Phobias: Space Marines know no fear. However, Okor's guests have severe Pyrophobia. Okor himself worries of being forgotten, of failure, and of being declared mediocre, or weak.
Hobbies: Okor regularly prays and trains. If he finds himself with some free time, he oftentimes crafts small trinkets of devotion from local materials.

Attitude: Okor is wholly devoted to his blessed mission. He will spread his faith and legend with every tainted stride across this wretched realm.
Outlook on Life: It is a broken, twisted thing doomed to fail. And he loves every flawed moment. He will sustain it for as long as he can, and if one is deemed unworthy of carrying its curse, he is all too happy to inform them of such as he turns them into a feast for the worms.
Perception: Okor perceives situations as in his favour, no matter what they are. Ten millennia of warfare have given him a host of dirty tricks, and no small amount of bravado and grim determination.
Standpoint: Okor sees himself as a Crusader, one soldier in an ancient war that he helped start. He intends to be there for the finish.
Philosophy: “His enemies shall wither and die. His allies shall wither and die. The universe and all within it shall wither and die. And when the Great Corruption has settled over the land, and permeated the very foundations of reality itself, then shall the Lord of All rise from the rot and ruin, spread his arms wide to reclaim all his dutiful children…”

-“The Victory of Rebirth” from Litanies of Inevitability

Spiritual Characteristics:

Spirit Animal: Fly.
Religion: Chaos (Nurglite)
Devotion: Okor is fanatically devoted to his Religion, and has waged a holy war that has outlasted entire worlds.
Virtues: Patience, Diligence, Chastity, (arguably) kindness, charity.
Vices: Wrath, Greed.

Supernatural, Statistical, & Combat Attributes:

Statistics:

Attack - 3+1+1
Speed - 0
Defense - 5+1
Technique - 2+1

Site Powers: Survival, Advanced Regeneration
Transformations:
Grave Warden (Tier One Transformation)
[Image: Warhammer-40000-%D1%84%D1%8D%D0%BD%D0%B4...22398.jpeg]
+2 ATK
+2 DEF
+1 TEC

Filth seeps from Okor's joints, hiding him within a layer of decay. It beings to bubble and seethe, forming into ceramite plates, rotten bundles of servo muscles, and rusted mechanisms. Over roughly 3 seconds, he is reborn into a suit of terminator armour, greatly increasing his strength and durability, and driving him to greater feats of martial prowess. While encased in the armour, Okor is far less agile, and a much larger target, but the trade off in sheer power is more than worth it in his eye. As an added bonus, many weapons have no small amount of difficulty penetrating several inches of unholy armour.

Dreadnought (Tier Two Transformation, 1500 OM)
[Image: death-guard-dreadnought.jpg]
ATK +5
DEF +5
SPD +0
TEC +0

A bio-mechanical roar, distorted and amplified by his unholy biology and ancient armour pierces the air as pestilent tumours consume Okor. These cancerous growths expand and conceal Okor within an amorphous blob of inky blackness, and not long after, erupt into Okor's new form: A Dreadnought. Okor's true form is concealed within the massive chassis, integrated with the machinery to the extent that he is near-comatose and blind without its sensors and systems. However, this is compensated for by absurd strength and resilience. While he is unable to use many of his weapons in this new form, his bolter is mounted to his chassis, allowing for some degree of ranged combat. This is largely irrelevant, as a pair of massive metallic fists replace his hands, capable of crushing stone and turning bones to dust. He is somewhat clumsy within his new form, but given his newfound structural integrity and strength, there is only so much capacity for exploitation.


The Burned Man (Tier Two Transformation, 1500 OM)
[Image: RVbhtCw.png]
ATK: +2
DEF: +2
SPD: +2
TEC: +4

Okor was tempered in the fires of the Ashen Steppes, his bones scorched and left to lie in the ash of that damned realm. The experience has left him somewhat changed, driven to avenge his defeat and to unleash his anger on this false world. As he activates this transformation, his armour blackens and hardens as his flesh burns away, bones that have been twisted by the whims of the gods over millennia all that remains, animated by a vengeful will that has yet to be stayed by death itself. Ten Thousand years of warfare, unbound by the weakness of flesh, returns. Restored to but a fraction of the strength and skill he deserves, Okor strikes at the world that keeps him captive, intending to burn it down to mere cinders.

Battle Trance (Tier One Transformation, 1000 OM)
[Image: 3980050-4085849867-db944.png]
ATK+1
DEF+0
SPED+2
TEC+2
Arrhythmic aortas are corralled into a steady beat by Okor's will, a facsimile of life flowing through his veins as he faces the foe. He moves with an alacrity previously absent in his aberrant form, an eternity of bloodshed resurfacing within his mind, ten millennia of experience making itself known as he strikes, a grin plastered across his visage as he reaps a bloody toll with his blade, moving with an assured confidence born from innumerable victories.
  Assists:
Cultists
(Tier One Assist, Requires 1000 OM)
[Image: e9f2fda72ab1cac9e1211e6f14c004a1.jpg]

ATK: 2
DEF: 2
SPD: 0
TEC: 1

Okor's efforts at spreading the good word of Nurgle have met with some success.  He is almost always accompanied by a small retinue of Cultists, desperate men and women who have embraced the simple truths of Nurgle, and have found peace in his gifts. They are cursed and blighted individuals, disease running rampant through their scarred bodies. Boils and weeping sores are accentuated, rather than hidden with dirtied rags, salvaged and scavenged armour providing further protection on top of Nurgle's gifts. Devotional trinkets festoon their ragged clothes, the entirety of their possessions carried on their person. These possessions vary from cultist to cultist, with Okor finding new converts in every realm he visits: A former citizen of Coruscant raises their voice in prayer next to a denizen of Darkshire. Many of them were not in their right mind from the beginning, but rare is the one who can accept the depreciation of their body with their psyche remaining untouched. They possess a lesser variant of Okor's blessings, allowing them to ignore pain and slowly regenerate their wounds.

Moves:

Blight Grenade (Requires ranged proficiency, area attack proficiency, debuff proficiency, 300 OM)
A specially treated shrunken head hangs by Okor's hip, it's various openings sealed by a strange, unidentifiable yellow resin. Inside the leathery skin, and brittle bone, the cranium is filled with noxious gasses and virulent diseases. Upon using this move, Okor grabs his grenade, and making use of his impressive strength, hurls it at a foe up to 36 meters away. Upon impact with a solid surface (Such as a wall, the floor, or the target itself), the macabre casing is destroyed, sending fragments of infected bone scything through the air in a 5m radius. Once this initial detonation is complete, its cargo seeps through, flooding an area with a 5m radius with deadly toxins. In the event someone other than Okor enters the area, the diseases begin to strike, tightening the skin, restricting the breath, attempting to suffocate the foe. During this process, the veins on the infected turn black, as their hide sprouts disgusting boils.

This cloud of noxious gasses, and the horrific symptoms, dissipate after 10 seconds.

Septic Shiv Tier one offensive supermove (600 OM, requires Physical, debuff proficiencies)
With a brief hand motion, Okor summons the favoured weapon of Nurgle's Chosen: The Plague Knife. A cruelly barbed and twisted weapon, dripping with noxious slime, this rusted blade has ended many battles with a single swift motion. However, the virulence of the weapon only allows it to exist for a short period of time, allowing Okor to use it for a single blow before it dissipates back to whence it came. Upon striking a foe, the enemy is almost immediately afflicted by the infections harboured within its dread design. Fever, buboes, boils, necrosis, hemorrhaging, are all common symptoms. The strength of this infection varies, dependent on the unfortunate opponent struck. A mere mortal would quickly succumb and dissolve into a primordial sludge, whereas the more hardy would simply suffer a potent fever, its effects driving them into a blind rage. Of course, these symptoms are less effective against primes, and particularly resilient primes may shrug off infection altogether (Although they will still have a rather ragged wound).

Plague Blade (600 OM, requires Physical, debuff proficiencies)
A rusted, pitted blade roughly 1.7 meters in length, used since the bloody opening acts of the Long War, this sword has no name, no poems written about those it has claimed, merely a body count. Okor can channel his own pestilence along the blade, requiring roughly two and a half seconds of concentration. The pestilence created by this act slows and weakens the foe, and drives them to a reckless assault if they lack the physical and mental integrity to resist it. After a charged strike, it functions as a simple blade for the remainder of the combat, as Okor is not one to exhaust himself overmuch in the pursuit of victory. All rots in time, after all...

Necrotic Touch (Requires physical, debuff proficiencies, 600 OM)
Okor's hands ooze a toxic slime, containing a particularly virulent strain of flesh-eating bacterium, which draws forth his various parasites with the promise of a meal. This ability takes two seconds of stationary concentration to activate, afterwards, Okor's hands become dangerous weapons. Contact with the substance seeping from his hands almost instantly causes deterioration. With only brief contact (such as a slap, or a punch), the area is irritated and sore. If Okor manages to maintain the contact for several seconds (such as by holding the enemy down), the skin begins to rot and soften. Should the unfortunate target be unable to free themselves from his grip for seven seconds, the damage becomes more severe, as a variety of infections and parasites begin to make their way to the foe, causing significant discomfort, and starting to worm their way into the foe's flesh. The foe's chances of escape are greatly increased if their ATK or DEF score is higher than Okor's. The parasites may be removed out of combat, with either the channeling of Omnillium, or skilled medical aid.

Phosphex Bolt Pistol (300 OM, requires Ranged, Debuff Proficiencies)
A rusted, battered, and ancient weapon, the bolt pistol is nonetheless extremely dangerous and durable. Due to its salvaged and corroded nature, it is only capable of a rate of fire of one round every three seconds, with a clip of six rounds. It fires modified bolt rounds, first created in the days of the great crusade, meant only for dire scenarios. Mortation's legion quickly embraced these weapons of last resort, arming their elites with ever-burning Phosphex, deadly rad weapons, and the invisible death of the Cullgene virus, leaving a trail of horrific death on every front of the Great Crusade. Okor has made good use of these weapons himself, paving a path for his brethren with the aid of the most twisted weaponry humanity has ever designed.

The rounds themselves explode shortly before contact with a surface (such as a wall, or an unfortunate target), spraying Phosphex over the poor soul. Phosphex manifests itself as a cloud of burning gel, which is propelled forward by momentum. Once it hits a surface, it remains in place for 5 seconds, introducing the target to a personal inferno. After 5 seconds has passed, Omnillium quenches the flames, saving the unlucky target from a slow and tortuous demise.

Rad Rounds (Requires ranged proficiency, debuff proficiency) 300 OM
An archaic crusade pattern bolter, coated in rust, hung with teeth ripped from Man and Xenos alike, this weapons has seen Okor through a thousand battles. Loaded with irradiated bolt rounds, it is a thing of death and destruction, spitting a round a second, with a magazine of two dozen rounds, requiring six seconds to reload.

Upon hitting a target, the bolt rounds detonate a fraction of a second later. While in the forty-first millennium, this would blow a man in two. In the Omniverse, it simply spreads the radioactive shrapnel throughout the body. This radiation impairs the foe's combat ability, wracking them with radiation from inside their body. This shrapnel must be removed before the effect subsides, requiring either medical treatment, or 10 seconds of concentration to purge the shrapnel with Omnillium.

Hunger (600 OM, requires Ranged, Debuff Proficiencies)
Okor's corrupted and malformed abdomen splits open, the bones revealing themselves as crooked, mangled teeth. From within this maw, decrepit entrails begin to stir, protrusions of spine and bone adorning the twisted organs. With a desperate hunger, one of the monstrous tentacles extends up to fifteen meters in a short span, wrapping itself around a foe, cutting deep into their flesh with its barbs. If the Foe's combined ATK and DEF stats are lower than Okor's, they are pulled towards him. If the Foe's combined ATK and DEF score is less than half of Okor's combined score (rounding down), they are pulled the full distance towards him, and are subject to a few bites from his maw. Otherwise, they are merely pulled closer towards him, the distance moved dependent on the difference between their ATK and DEF scores. A weaker opponent will be pulled perhaps ten meters, while a foe of average strength might be pulled only 5 meters.

Cultist Barrage (Requires ranged proficiency, debuff proficiency, area attack proficiency cultists, 300 OM)
Okor's Cultists clutch damaged and much-used ranged weapons in cloth-wrapped claws. Depending on the nature of the 'verse he dwells within, the cultists wield appropriate weapons: Within a primitive verse, they let loose crossbow bolts and arrows, whereas in the dominion of Coruscant, low-caliber firearms are favoured. While various afflictions prevent the cultists from achieving accuracy, the enthusiastic fusillade of fire serves to suppress a small group of targets within 30 meters, forcing them to choose between finding cover or weathering the storm.

Cultist Blades (Requires physical proficiency, debuff proficiency, cultists, 300 OM)
The Cultists arm themselves with twisted shivs, drenched in noxious mixture of blood, disease, dirt, and sewage. Should a foe fall victim to their frenzied assault (A difficult task, considering their patient gait and lack of skill, but a likely occurrence should they be surrounded), they will begin to sicken. The disease spreads quickly, inflicting nausea, dizziness, and possibly vomiting, should their defense be equal to or lower than 2. While unpleasant, these effects fade after twenty seconds.

Winds of Chaos, Tier Two supermove, (800 OM, requires Ranged attack, area attack, debuff proficiencies)
Calling upon the primordial chaos from which life sprang, and to which life will inevitably return, Okor channels forth sheer destructive power. Releasing a howl powered by his inhuman biology, the vox of his armour, and the madness of the warp, he unleashes a torrent of warpstuff in a 30 degree cone extending 30 meters from his mouth. Those who are unable to dodge the stream of corruption in time are caught in the wave of destruction, gale-force winds flensing flesh from bone as an unearthly howl of terrible volume deafens them. Okor is immobile while using this ability, his attention entirely focused on maintaining and protecting himself from the fell powers he dares to unleash. This ability lasts for 7 seconds, or until he is interrupted.

Gigaton Hammer (Tier Two Supermove, requires Physical Proficiency, Debuff Proficiency, Area Attack Proficiency 800 OM)
[Image: latest?cb=20121013153054]
The massive maul entrusted to Okor by the Headmaster of the Institute is an impressive instrument of destruction. Weighing almost as much as a mortal man, the energies concentrated in its head add to its might, coruscating auras of entropy and hatred just barely visible to mortal eyes. With a haft nearly as tall as the Plague Marine (very nearly three meters), each swing of this mighty weapon brings ruin. While tiring, even for one of his stature, the exertion is most assuredly worth it. Each blow of this titanic weapon emits a mighty shockwave upon impact, the ruinous energies just barely contained within its prison of corroded iron flowing freely, shattering the earth and sapping the strength of all those who stand upon it. The ravaged area is roughly 3.5 meters in radius, centered upon the point of impact. If the hammer instead meets a prime during its deadly arc, aside from the obvious blunt force trauma that would result, their flesh ruptures and rots around the area of impact, leprous lesions spreading from Okor's attentions.

Phosphex Bomb (Tier Two Super Move 800 OM, requires Ranged, Area attack, debuff proficiency)
The rusted orbs hanging by corroded chains from Okor's waist could easily be mistaken for censers. The infernal flames within release a pungent odour at all times, rank fumes seeping from the perforations dotting its exterior. Unfortunately for his foes, these are no mere devotional accessories. The ever-burning alchemical fire within these spheres simply awaits an opportunity to sate its mindless hunger upon anything that has the unfortunate qualities of flammability.
When the time has come to make use of the destructive properties of these devices, Okor detaches a chain and swings the bomb, building momentum as he chooses his target. When he lets it fly, the projectile can travel up to 50 meters, detonating upon impact with the ground or anyone unfortunate enough to be in its trajectory. Upon detonation, the Phosphex Bomb erupts into a fiery conflagration, coating anyone and everything within 10 meters of the impact point in napalm. These flames are nigh-unquenchable, and will burn for 10 seconds before dissipating.

Character Abilities: Faith powers, inability to feel pain and severe mutation.
Restrictions: Very slow, unable to feel anything, poor depth perception.
Origins: Natural resistance to disease and toxins, marine augmentations, veterancy, Nurgle's Gifts.
Source: Marine Augmentations, natural Barbarosan resistance, Nurgle's gifts.

Signature Move: Plague Blade/Rad Rounds Bolter.
Specialty: Extreme durability. This is best leveraged in protracted combat and close-range firefights where his endurance and resistance to pain and damage is made apparent.
Strengths: Extreme stamina and endurance, significant strength, a whole host of dirty tricks.
Weaknesses: Very poor at stealth, fine manipulation, technological activities.

Apparel

Wardrobe Style: [Image: chaos_space_marine_plague_marine_color_b...4fjqdj.jpg]

Appearance: Okor's armour has long since fused to his flesh after 10 millennia of warfare and exposure to the reality-twisting ways of the warp. It is now more of a chitinous exoskeleton. His abdomen and left arm are exposed, showcasing the blessings that the plaguefather has gifted upon him, and allowing for him to transmit them more easily. Indeed, the sheer quantity of diseases and bacteria contained within his gaunt frame would be enough to rot a planet to the core, were it not for the Omnillium containing it. Unlike most of his bloated Brethern, Okor is almost skeletal, with cracked, yellowing bones, covered in calciferous masses lurking just beneath his pallid skin. A tabard hangs from his waist, stained with grime, filth, blood and pus, and still proudly emblazoned with the mark of Nurgle. A horn juts from the center of his head, a twisted, broken thing. Beneath it lies a single, blood-shot eye. Where he walks, life grows. Fungus and mold grows in his footsteps, marking the earth with his passing.
Common Accessories: Devotional tabard.
Equipment: Ammunition.
Weapons: Phosphex bolt pistol, plague blade.
Armor: Okor's armour is rotten and corrupted, much like the marine itself. It has bonded with his flesh, making it almost impossible to remove. However, his helmet is able to be removed with some effort. The armour itself is several centimeters thick, laden with servo-motors, synthmuscle, and other mechanisms. Since his forays into the warp, it has become more chitin like, occasionally bleeding a thick ichor when struck.
Artifacts:
Other Items:

Biography
Born upon the toxic planet of Barbarus, a world wreathed in clouds of acid, poison, and plague, dominated by the alien Overlords and their armies of the walking dead, Okor was a fine example of a warrior. Taking up a dulled and rusted blade when he was barely out of childhood, he defended his home village of Barbarus alongside the older warriors, holding back the tides of the undead for another day. His life consisted of nothing but this, until the Primarch Mortation established his dominion. The disparate villages of man were united under his rule, and the people struck back against the abominations that rule the planet, climbing poisoned peaks clad in crude breathing apparatuses, putting dead men and Xenos to the sword. Okor followed Mortation faithfully, beholden to the man who had saved his people. As they camped around the single poisonous peak that denied them, that of Mortation's father, the hated Emperor arrived while Mortation was scouting the mountain. To Okor's eternal shame, he was entranced by the Man's palpable aura of charisma. When Mortation returned, he swore to earn his people's independence by slaying his father.

While none of the Death Guard knew what happened upon that peak, Barbarus was quickly swept up into the Great Crusade. Mortation assumed command of the Dusk Raiders, quickly renamed as the Death Guard. Recruits were drawn from Barbarus, their natural resilience augmented by the biological changes wrought by gene-seed. Okor was among the oldest recruits, 15 years of age when he earned the chance to serve. After passing the trials and receiving the gene-seed, he joined the ranks. He served his Primarch across decades of war, consistently participating in some of the bloodiest battles in the great crusade. The pride of the Death Guard disallowed them from fighting anywhere but the frontlines.

When Horus initiated his Heresy, it was clear who the Death Guard would turn to. Mortation was angry and bitter about how his true father had stolen his glory and purpose from him, turning him from the king and savior of Barbarus into just another General. As the Legion travelled through the warp towards Terra, they became marooned. A plague swept through the Legion, rotting the famously resilient death guard from the inside, wracking the legion with an unstoppable infection. In the depths of his fever, Mortation pledged his Legion's souls to the Lord Of All, Nurgle, ending their torment, and beginning their eternal war.

After the Traitors were repulsed from Terra, they fled to the eye of Terror. Finding a haven in the embrace of the warp, the Death Guard lair there, their Daemon Primarch ruling over a perverse recreation of his home, terrorizing the populace from his toxic peak. Okor himself served alongside his legion for 9 millennia, eventually swearing himself to a pilgrimage, promising to not return to his Legion until he had deciphered the nature of his patron. As he clambered through the seemingly endless levels of the Broken Temple, seeking his own name written upon the walls, bloodying his fingers on shattered masonry, feeding on those who tried the task before him and failed. As he neared the peak, the vulture-like Daemons roosting there surrounding him, waiting for him to fail, the vista vanished, replaced with a blank scene of nothingness, and one grinning, featureless being.

NPCs
Character history: 14-4-8-7 is the designation of the machine spirit dwelling with Okor's warplate. While most technology in the 41st millennium possess some form of rudimentary personality, veritable artifacts from the days of the Great Crusade have had ten thousand years to develop, growing and developing as they feasted on the scrapcode of the slain. 14-4-8-7 has been quite thorough in this regard. Tempered and hardened by constant warfare, it has assimilated countless lesser binaric beings into itself, the spirits of salvaged wargear being overwhelmed by its force of personality and brought to heel.

Due to the influence of the warp and its immersion in slaughter, it does not exactly have the sunniest disposition. It is a savage, brutal entity that desires nothing more than to rend the foe asunder, and take its power for itself.

Physical Description: (originals only) While 14-4-8-7 lacks a physical form, residing entirely in the systems of Okor's armour, if found in the Dataverse, or via a mystical or technological scan of his armour, it makes its appearance as a wraith of sorts, a collection of rusted pistons and mechanism concealed with oil-stained cloth. Sickly green light emanates from a multifaceted set of lenses beneath its hood, eternally seeking fresh prey. Piston-powered fangs and claws are always ready to hack and inject malicious code into the scripts of its foe. It moves erratically, jumping from node to node, the carrion cloak of slain sprites shrouding it obscuring its form as it approaches, relentlessly seeking its next feast.

[Image: 635032494025518519.jpg]

Stats:
ATK: 4
DEF: 2
SPD: 3
TEC: 1

Starting Proficiencies:  Physical (1000), Debuff (1000)

2,000 OM spent on Proficiencies.

Starting Powers: Burst Movement (800), Master Acrobat (400), Basic Super Jumping (300), Advanced Enhanced Senses (1700), Stealth (1200)

2,400 OM spent on powers.

Starting Moves: Scrapcode Talons and Teeth (600 Om, requires physical, debuff proficiencies)
14-4-8-7 arms itself with claws and fangs of malware, slicing into the code of digital foes, tearing them apart as if they were beings of flesh and blood. These weapons are approximately half a foot long, extending from each of its four limbs and its malformed maw. Whenever its weapons make contact and damage an enemy, it passes on one of the multitudinous viral infections infesting its being. This virus hampers the foe's connection to the Dataverse, slowing their reaction time and causing a graphical packet loss akin to partial blindness. Should the foe be thoroughly savaged, they might lose connection to the Dataverse altogether, allowing 14-4-8-7 to feast upon the remains of their avatar.

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  **DEAD18**[02] - Cindy (NPC)
Posted by: Proto Man - 05-01-2015, 04:36 PM - Forum: Dante's Abyss Records (2015) - No Replies

Appearance and Extra Information – http://omniverse-rpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=32&t=469

Backstory – Cindy has always been a hunter. She is known to organize raids through the Dataverse and generally do whatever it takes to complete a job. Her time in the Omniverse has allowed her to develop a vast skillset to deal with multiple situations. When she heard of Dante’s Abyss and the rewards is promised, she was quick to join, unaware that her Gold Rathian Egg artefact had been smuggled away by the competition staff.

Relationships - Ganondorf ("Eh") & Link ("Eh")

Handicap – 3 -> Cindy is an opportunist and a vicious combatant. Her reputation for doing whatever it takes to win is well-known. One of her artefacts is on the line, and she won’t stop until she reclaims it.

X-Factor - Cindy is entering the competition with her personal Artefact, the Gold Rathian Egg.

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  Okor Paleblood Log
Posted by: Zelda - 05-01-2015, 04:08 PM - Forum: Purchases and Deductions Log - Replies (42)

Purchases and Deductions for Okor Paleblood go here!

Current post count: (your current post count, viewable below your avatar)
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. If purchasing a move you MUST link to the approval). Cost: (the cost) OM
New Spent OM in category: (your new total spent on Moves, Powers or whatever it was you bought)
New Overall Spent OM: (your total Spent OM after the purchase)

All moves must be approved here before purchase.

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