Personals

Looking for anyone who is willing to trade stories or secrets about Judge Dread. I will glady accept personal contact information or addresses if anyone has that sort of precious information.....

If you are unaware of who the Judge is, I have attached just ONE of my many artworks below. (Would love some creative feedback as well)

Please send me a DM @ clownprincess@omni or reply below

Current Earned OM: 6,575
Current Spent OM: 3200
Buying: Mobile Dataverse Device 100 OM
New Spent OM: 3300

When death came for Orihime, a final sensation of agony overcame her body, followed by an embrace of peace. She knew she gave everything she had to protect her friends while fighting until her last painful breathe, but it wasn't enough - it never is.

After death tore into her flesh, it gently swept her off her feet and carried her away. With the girl cradled against The Angel of Death's bust, it whispered, "Can you protect my people from the ground?" while rocking her softly. "No," her mind responded without sound, "I can't protect anyone".

Without warning, Orihime was sitting in a single-person rowboat, floating inside a sizeable pond. She found herself unable to move, with her arms sitting neatly on her lap, and her gaze never leaving the shore. There was a thick, coarse rope tied to a steak several feet past the shoreline, and fastened to the rowboat.

Erie silence encompassed the scenery around her that slowly nibbled away at her sanity. This place was unrecognizable, other than the glittering snow atop the overcast waters. It made her think of her place in the frosty pines, of the troll village, and it made her think of home.

Everything stayed the same in this pace, including the dreamy snow, except one thing. With every heavy blink of her eyes, she saw someone waiting on the waterfront. Orihime would see her brother, and he would just smile the warmest and loving smile with outstretched arms. Had she not already known her brother was dead, and not in this world, she would have rushed to him.

Orihime would see her friends, Sasuke and Victor on the beach. They were both masked, head to toe in blood that dripped from their body, and pooled at their feet. Both of their expressions were horrified, and they mouthed her name before disappearing. Seeing her friends in distress kept Orihime locked up and away from the shoreline.

The girl believed that her presence in this world was of no use to anyone. Sure she was able to help that spirit find some sort of rest, but what good was helping the dead if she can't seem to help the living. Aware of time passing by, the minutes went on with every falling snowflake, and Orihime stayed sitting on that boat.

“Pst!”

Kilgrot the Mighty, son of Kolgoth the Mighty, is crammed into a small wooden desk in his creative writing class, scribbling furiously.

The hulking teenage Klingon looms over the rest of his classmates, even the large ones; and there are some large ones at Westside High. Kilgrot’s creative writing class, like the rest of Westside High study body, is diverse.

Besides Kilgrot, there are several other Klingons in the back of the room, though none of them seem to share his passion for creative writing. Like Kilgrot they wear the Westside High wrestling jackets. Also in the back, but very much on their own, are a pair of orcs also in green Westside HIgh wrestling jackets. The wrestling team is one of the few places in the school where the orcs and Klingons put aside cultural and racial differences, but outside of practice the two groups dont mix.

There are Klingons, orcs, humans, elves, twi’leks, anime catfolk, gazzorpazzorpians, and even a magically sentient wooden marionette, just in one classroom.

And today, there are two new students.

“Pst,” comes the voice again.

Kilgrot still does not look up. He pegged them the moment they walked in, and he has a fair idea why the two new ‘students’ want his attention. He also knows what his father would say.

Kolgoth would clasp his shoulder, and look deep into his sons eyes, and explain to Kilgrot again that the sacrifices he made were for his family, for his son to have a better life than he ever could. He would tell him to keep wrestling, and to maintain his good grades. His father would tell him to stay away from the crooks and the criminals and low-lifes.

But his dad is in prison.

“Pst! Hey!” the voice calls in a hoarse whisper.

Kilgrot slowly puts his pen on his desk and turns around, his chair creaking.

The surly Klingon faces a pair of twin witches with matching blue hair. They wear tattered and patched Hogwarts robes, and were it not for their face piercings Kilgrot would not be able to tell them apart.

“Hey,” one of the girl whispers loudly, still flashing her pearly whites at the stone-face Klingon. “We’re new students, but you’re Kilgrot right? The wrestler?”

Kilgrot is in fact the inter-tier wrestling champion for his weight class, and the class above.

Kilgrot scowls at the girl, who refuses to drop her smile.

“You’re not students,” Kilgrot says in a deep baritone. “And you dont know me from no fucking wrestling.”

The bell rings, and the class rises to turn in their projects to the Niblonian teacher.

Kilgrot rises with them, slouching his backpack on and turning away from the new kids.

“Hey, wait-” says one of the witches.

“I didn’t mean-,” the other says, but Kilgrot is already gone.

Out in the hall, the Klingon thinks he sees the pair following him, so he ducks into a bathroom quietly, turning the faucet on and washing his face with cold, cold water.

He hears the bathroom door open and a few shuffling footsteps. Without looking up he says “This is a boys bathroom.”

He is met with a derisive female snort.

“What? No it isn’t,” says one of the blue-haired witches.

Her companion looked around. “Yeah, this isn’t even a bathroom, it’s a Plutonian spawning station.”

A Plutonian walks out of a stall with a batch of eggs, muttering about the noise.

“Congratulations sir!” the girls say in unison as the Plutonian stalks off.

Kilgrot stares at the water pooling in front of him, his reflection wobbling.

“I’m Danny,” says the girl finally. “This is Dungbomb.”

Kilgrot finally looks up from the sink, sizing up the Hufflepunks.

“Yeah, you guys know my uncle Girg. I know why you’re here,” he says finally, his baritone echoing around the empty Plutonian spawning station. “I knew they would send somebody, ever since Luci-”

“Then you’re in?” asks Dungbomb excitedly, her and her sister moving closer to the Klingon.

Kilgrot is silent. He does not have to wonder what his father would say, he already knows.

Danny fills the void of silence.

“It’s the only way,” she says softly. “You’re the only one with visiting privileges. And-”

“Fine,” Kilgrot cuts in. The twins grin at each other. In his head, he can hear his father begging him not too.

“Lets do it then,” Kilgrot says, with a kind of weary conviction. “Let’s break my dad out of jail.”

***

So, this is a thing now. Who Wants in? Discuss.

Orc Lives Matter (OLM) is an interversal activist movement, originating in the regions of Camelot and The Tangled Green, that campaigns against violence and systemic racism towards non-humans. OLM regularly holds protests speaking out against guard killings of non-humans, and broader issues such as racial profiling, guard brutality, and racial inequality in the criminal justice system of all nine verses. 

Just two years ago, the movement began with the use of the hashtag #OrcLivesMatter on social media after the acquittal of John Smithstone in the killing death of Orc-Omniversian teen Traturos Hellshriek the preceding February. Orc Lives Matter became interversally recognized for its street demonstrations following the deaths of two Orc Omniversians: Ganosh Deathsong, resulting in protests and unrest in Camelot, and Brutus Horntooth in The Tangled Green. Since the Camelot protests, participants in the movement have demonstrated against the deaths of numerous other non-humans by guard actions or while in guard custody.

The originators of the hashtag and call to action, Alicia Rocksmith, Patrisse Firestorm, and Opal Thunderblade, expanded their project into a national network of over fifteen local chapters within just a couple of years.The overall Orc Lives Matter movement, however, is a decentralized network and has no formal hierarchy. 

There have been many reactions to the Orc Lives Matter movement and the Omniverse population's perception of Orc Lives Matter varies considerably by race. The phrase "Omni Lives Matter" sprang up as a response to the Orc Lives Matter movement, but has been criticized for dismissing or misunderstanding the message of "Orc Lives Matter". Following the killing of two guard officers in Camelot, the hashtag Guard Lives Matter was created by supporters of the military. Some non-human civil rights leaders have disagreed with the group's tactics as in the summer of last year, Orc Lives Matter activists became involved in a series of riots that has garnered criticism of many in the mainstream media, some as far as to label them as a terrorist organization. When questioned however, the organization holds strong to its claims of being a civil rights movement. 

As always, the Omniverse Post is dedicated to bringing you the updates as this story progresses. Next up, "The Water in Carrefore, is it Safe to Drink?" we'll have the answers for you when we come back.

For a few moments I marvel at the strangeness of this situation. An otherwise perfectly ordinary stone arch, which seems to somehow contain that strange, white ‘room’, whilst everywhere else there is sand, interspersed with the odd bush or tree. Though out by the horizon it seems as if even those sparse decorations come to an end; after a certain point, this place would appear to be nothing but sand, sand and more sand.

It’s not exactly the most interesting of landscapes. It’s also hot. Really hot. I'll be okay for the time being, but the thought of having to trek through all this isn't exactly the most enticing, to put it lightly. I do consider leaving. Just turning back, heading through the arch again, and walking until I spot another of these strange arches, hoping to have better luck next time.

Assuming there even are any others, that is. It's entirely possible that this is the only one there is, and that I just got lucky by stumbling across it so quickly... or there could be dozens of them, who knows? I might be willing to go for it anyway, despite the chances of achieving nothing more than wasting time, if I thought that any of the other portals might lead somewhere better… but given what I've seen so far – first the black void that served as Omni’s entrance hall, then that empty, white room, and now this combination of sandy scrubland and sandy dunes – I'm not exactly super-impressed by this God’s creativity and imagination. What other shockingly inventive realities could perhaps be out there, on the other sides of some more of these archways? Forest World? Ice World? Swamp World? Midden World? Not necessarily anywhere better than this wasteland.

So, since there's no certainty of anything more promising elsewhere, I figure I might as well keep heading the way I'm going… hopefully there'll turn out to be something out here… somewhere.

I set off in a random direction, and it doesn't take long before I've worked up a sweat. The area I lived back in my own world was pretty warm, and I was used to marching about with an army and fighting in battles, so I’d hardly call myself out of shape… and as such, I wouldn't normally expect this level of perspiration from something as simple as an unhurried, casual stroll. But of course, being a desert, this place is unsurprisingly sweltering. Still, there's no use in complaining about it, so I head onwards resolutely.

Several hours of mind-numbing tedium later, I reach the first dunes. It’s certainly easier to keep track of the time with a proper sun in the sky than in that white void, now far behind me. I still can’t see any signs of civilised life, though. There seems to be little out here apart from the odd withered shrub, a few scattered cacti, and some bugs and small lizards. I keep going, though I do find myself eyeing a cactus in the rough general direction I'm headed, subtly altering my path to head towards it.

I don’t want to waste the little orb of Omnilium I was given, despite knowing that it should easily be enough to summon many, many glasses of fresh water… I have no idea how large this desert actually is, or if it ever ends at all, for that matter. So it would be best to be cautious. I've never tasted water from a cactus, though I've heard it’s pretty horrible… nevertheless, I'm willing to give it a shot if it will preserve my Omnilium, thereby potentially extending my life should the worst come to the worst. I even raise my hand, just a moment away from summoning one of my javelins to smash the thing, when I realise something strange.

I am now wealthier than I was earlier today. When Omni first handed me that Omnilium and my body absorbed it, there was less than there is now. It’s not a huge difference, but I can definitely feel it. Which means I was wrong about what Omni meant when He said I would need to gather more than what he gave me. It’s not that there are little balls of this stuff lying around in random spots… it really is everywhere, even in the air we breathe, it would seem… and what’s more, it appears to me as if it’s somehow drawn to people… or possibly to the Omnilium that we conveniently store inside our bodies.

Either way, it seems like I can almost certainly gather enough to keep myself hydrated simply by walking around. In fact, it’s possible I can even get ahold of a sufficient quantity to summon the food to keep myself from getting too hungry as well, which is a neat little bonus. It’s always a plus to not have to worry about dying of starvation.

I decide to celebrate this discovery with a glass of nice, cool, refreshing water, so I hold out my right hand before me, fingers curled as if holding a cup, and envisage my desire. It only takes a couple seconds before the Omnilium reacts, a bubble of chromatic light expanding around my hand, until it reaches about a foot in diameter, at which point it stops.

The roughly spherical mass is completely opaque, so I can’t make out what is happening within, though at one point I do feel what seems like a glass being pressed into my hand. It starts off extremely light, giving the impression of being so fragile that it could shatter were I to so much as flex my fingers, though, it quickly grows heavier. In just a few minutes, the Omnilium shell around my hand fades away, its job done.

I stand there, in the middle of a desert, surely miles from any form of civilisation – assuming this thus far bland reality even has any civilisation – with the sun glaring down at me from the centre of a cloudless sky, its warmth so tangible that the air is warped by a thick heat haze, and little tongues of golden fire flicker around my bare feet as my protective enchantments keep these burning sands from scorching my skin.

It’s fucking hot. Like, really fucking hot. Despite my light and airy garments, I'm soaked in sweat, and this place seems to have only the tiniest of breezes, which really isn't helping at all… and yet, despite this sweltering heat, I'm holding a pint glass of freezing-cold water out before me, actual lumps of ice floating on the surface of the chilled liquid within, and beads of condensation running down its sides.

I’ve only been out here in this barren place a scant few hours and already I’m finding myself thinking that whatever else I may be made for, aimless treks through boiling, arid wastelands are not among my specialities. Turning my back to the cactus without a thought for its pin-like spines, I lean against it and gently lower myself to the ground, the needles against my back snapping beneath my weight and dropping off, my impenetrable protections rendering me immune to the touch of the sharp thorns.

Leaning back my head and bringing the icy glass to my lips, I gulp down the wonderfully cold, life-giving fluid. Delicious. In my haste, I drink in a less than elegant fashion, and rivulets of water run down my chin. In moments, my glass is emptied.

If I can say one positive thing about these scorched badlands, it would have to be that they make it real easy to feel grateful to Omni for His gift of creation magic. It may be a little time consuming to use, but it’s nothing short of astounding to be able to create anything I might need, wherever and whenever I might need it.

I sit there for a few minutes, willing myself to get up and keep moving.

I fail.

The next thing I know I’m halfway through summoning another glass of water. I know I should preserve what little Omnilium I have, so that it might last me as long as possible… but I’m too tempted. I’ve never really been one for temperance and self-control anyway… not for years now, at least. In my younger, more naive days, maybe, I guess.

But what’s the point in living if you don’t live a little? So I down my second pint of ice water, then toss the empty glass in the sands beside the first. Feeling a bit more refreshed, I climb back to my feet and begin plodding onwards once more.

I only make it a few steps before something occurs to me, though, and I turn to glance back at the glasses. It’s a long shot, but… ah hell, it might be worth a try, right? It can’t hurt, surely… well, it could possibly cost me some of my precious stash of Omnilium if it somehow goes badly wrong, I suppose… but… eh. It’s worth a shot. I might regret this if I end up dying of thirst no more than a few hours’ walk from a city’s walls… but screw it, caution is for pussies.

I walk back and pick up the glasses. I’ve found that I can summon things from Omnilium… but what about the opposite? Omni did say that everything in His world was made up of Omnilium, and if it’s possible for me to accumulate more simply by wandering around aimlessly then it could be that it’s also possible to actively deconstruct existing objects, right? That makes sense in my head, at least, so I hold out each glass and focus. I want my Omnilium back. Give it back. I don’t need these anymore.

A few seconds into this, a bubble of Omnilium does actually form around each of my hands and the vessels they grasp. I don’t celebrate yet, though. For all I know, I might be accidentally spending more Omnilium, to… do something to the glasses. Make them bigger, maybe. It’s not like I know what’s supposed to happen when you wish for something impossible.

It's only minutes later, when the final frail shells of glass evaporate away, as the balls of shimmering light collapse in on themselves and are once more absorbed into my skin somehow, and when I feel the Omnilium reserves within me swelling just slightly, that I finally allow myself to believe that this can really be true.

I begin laughing immediately, and fall backwards into the sand a moment later, arms lying flung out to either side as I chortle uncontrollably. I feel like I've discovered an all new, heretofore unheard of, level of power. Omni may be a Deity, but I feel enough like a god myself right now. This is nothing short of miraculous.

I can absorb objects. I can absorb anything. It’s not that I can summon a few things a day, waiting for my Omnilium to build up again in the meantime; if ever I want anything, all I need do is deconstruct something nearby. And right now, there is a plethora of sand all around me, billions of granules, covering the earth for miles upon miles in every direction.

Kneeling and placing both palms on the burning grit beneath me, I envisage my desire; Omnilium. I want more. I need more. And gradually, reality takes notice of my petulant demands and deigns to move to accommodate them. This takes far longer than summoning a simple glass of water, though. A slick film of rainbow-hued stuff creeps across the granular ground, slowly, tediously advancing in all directions, its expansion centred on my location.

Almost ten minutes have passed when I feel the first changes around me. It’s just a little, but the sands are shifting beneath me. The shimmering light, though, is not. Very, very, slowly, I’m beginning to sink down into it. I decide to see how long I can keep this up, though, so I don’t stop. Not yet.

By the time almost twenty minutes of uninterrupted concentration have passed, I'm blinded. One last glimpse at the sun above tells me roughly how much time has elapsed so far, and then the flowing field of many-hued lights drifts smoothly over my eyes. It isn't just that I'm dropping in time with the sands as they are converted into Omnilum, though. As they move and shift, I'm pulled down deeper within this sinkhole I'm creating, falling just slightly faster than the grains are vanishing; the sand now reaches as high as my waist.

I keep at it a little longer… or a lot longer? I can no longer tell. There’s no more sun and I now have by eyes closed tight against the bright, harsh light of the immaterial Omnilium orb in which I currently dwell. When I've sunk down into the ground almost to my shoulders, I realise that I can’t sensibly keep this up any longer. Actually, I may have already left it later than I reasonably ought to have done.

So I relax my focus and allow the shining, chromatic construct to collapse around me. The light is drawn back within my body and I whistle softly. It’s not by any means an unfathomable level of wealth, but it’s a damn good start. Unfortunately, I soon realise that absorbing sand from directly beneath where I was kneeling was perhaps not the wisest of courses to take.

I’m stuck.

I struggle and wriggle about in a not-remotely-dignified manner, my new, 'godlike' powers being of absolutely no use in this situation, feeing immensely grateful that there's no one around to witness this embarrassing episode, and do – eventually – manage to squirm my way out of the hole I've dug myself into... even if I do end up getting entirely too much sand in my clothes in the process.

I hadn't realised how deep or wide this pit I’d carved into the dunes had gotten, though. Even after freeing myself from the clingy grasp of the ground, it takes me several more minutes to scramble out of the crater. The lightly packed, sloping ‘walls’ of the hole collapsing as soon as I make any attempt to scale them certainly not making this task any faster or easier.

Once done with that, though, I turn to admire my handiwork. I grin. It’s pretty satisfying, I have to say, to be able to cannibalise the landscape itself in order to make myself stronger and richer. Though likely too slow to be of use in combat, this magic certainly has far greater applications than anything I've seen back home. Being able to summon anything at all is just such a novel concept.

Still, coin left stored in vaults serves no purpose. The good thing about having money isn't just having money itself, it's the spending of money that makes it so great. So I hold out my hands before me and envisage my desire. Now that I know there is essentially an unlimited source of food and water all around me, I see no reason to hold back on using this stuff in excess.

This ‘purchase’ takes me around fifteen minutes... I can't really be any more specific than that without a clock or at least an hourglass; telling time by the passage of the sun is a helpful skill, but it has its limits. When the Omnilium shell folds in on itself and vanishes this time, before me sits a wooden cart. Its body and wheels are made of thick, dark mahogany, with an intricate web of flowing, silver runes carved all along its surfaces. An enchanted vehicle. A horseless carriage. Above the basic – if beautiful – foundation, four thick poles of the same wood rise from the four corners of the cart, supporting a white, silk canopy, to keep out the burning and hateful glare of the sun far above. Within the cart, carpets cover the wooden flooring, while pillows and cushions line the edges.

These magical conveyances were only ever owned by the richest of people back in my home city-state of Bhalaee, and in many of the other nations our armies ‘visited’ they weren't even present at all… and yet here I am, producing in a mere quarter of an hour something that ought really to have taken a team of skilled magi weeks to put together, as well as considerably greater expense than the value of the (albeit large) pile of sand which I consumed in order to generate the Omnilium needed for this summoning.

I had one of my own, just like this one I've made here, after the first wars ended, when those of us who had gained the most renown during the conflicts returned home to be showered with gifts and statuses. Even though they might be scarcely faster than jogging, these things are certainly much more enjoyable ways to travel than walking or horse-riding, especially with the glyphs of stability on the wheels, to provide a gentle ride across any type of terrain, as though driving down a smooth road.

Grinning, I hop inside and immediately sprawl amongst the pillows, barking a command at the automagical transport, “Forward!”

The wheels spin and sand swirls for a moment, before the runes awaken fully to life and find purchase where none should exist. And then it’s accelerating, headed forwards in a perfectly straight line, and I lean back, closing my eyes and enjoying the shade and the comparative coolness it bestows after so long traipsing around beneath the blazing eye of the sun.

Name: Eternity Larva

Spent OM: 5700
Consumed OM (0): (for consumed items or OM permanently lost from respecs, etc)

Proficiencies (2000): Ranged Proficiency (1000), Debuff Proficiency (1000)
Powers (2800/8000): Flight (1800), Super Speed (1000)

Moves (900): Danmaku Scales (300), Danmaku: Suppressing Fire (600), Basic Life-force Control (0)
Super Moves (0):
Transformations (0):
Assists (0):

Items (0):
Artefacts: None
Bases (0):
Unlocks (0):

Base stats:
ATK: 2
DEF: 2
SPD: 3
TEC: 3

Purchases and Deductions for Eternity Larva 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
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All moves must be approved here before purchase.

There were times when one wished they had more resources. Sometimes a person wished they were a better version of themselves. Other times, they wished a voice inside their head would shrivel up and die, already. This was the case, as Unicron was walking towards the gate of Coruscant. The blinding white architecture, and design gave Unicron one more reason to hate Omni. His fashion since was horrid. In addition, Unicron really loathed the fact he had been stripped of almost every ounce of power that he possessed. Sure he could manifest a Dark Energon Sphere, but it did not feel right, to him. It was not his Dark Energon, but a crude facsimile that he had managed to create in this place for himself. Survival dictated he derive some equipment from one of the cartoons Rafael liked to watch so much. Perhaps he could pull a page from Iron Man and create some sort of gauntlet for Rafael. Being able to discharge lightning from at least one hand, or both would make Rafael a powerful threat, to anyone who would dare to cause him harm at present. Nevermind the fact the Chaos Bringer didn’t want to deal with idiots who wanted to harm his current host,  Unicron was going to ensure the boy had the means to protect himself from any threat that came his way. Whether the boy liked that, or not, he was going to survive. If for nothing more than the fact Unicron honestly needed him for his future plans. Should Optimus Prime, or any of the Primes show up, or a bearer of the Matrix of Leadership, the boy would be useful. After all, a Matrix Bearer would not harm an innocent, unless they were like Sentinel Prime, or someone along those lines. As they traversed the path towards the gate that led to Coruscant, Unicron knew the idea itself may not perhaps be the wisest course. However, they were going to need more supplies than Rafael had at present. And while sure, more supplies could be created with Omnilium, Unicron did not want to waste the time or effort in order to so. Best to work with what already existed, and make use of what he could find for himself. 

One of the items he might create was that gauntlet. Sure acquiring the servo motors for such,  and other supplies needed to build it was not going to be an easy task. Of course,  with the power Unicron knew he could call forth, it would be rather easy for him to do.  In order to call upon said power that he knew he probably still had, he was going to need to get stronger. Really if he could still shoot eye lasers, or lightning, or any of that, the gauntlet wouldn’t be needed. Yet Rafael planned on building it, Unicron could see that much. Best if he prevented the boy from hurting himself too severely in his attempts to build the device. Some sort of Flame Thrower might be a useful addition to the Gauntlet, or some sort of freeze blaster of some sort. Really there were a lot of options as to what could be put in the gauntlet. For the MK I, it would be best to keep it simple though, realized the Chaos Bringer. Lightning was a useful attack for a way to lower the strength of an enemy, and a blaster was good. After that, it should still be able to punch someone. Perhaps a hidden blade, as well, or something.  The tedious trek through the transport to technology known as the Nexus was grating on the nerves of the Chaos Bringer. Well, Former Chaos Bringer, as he had none of his power at present practically, so he couldn’t rightfully call himself that. Their trek continued unabated towards the gate that led to Coruscant, because Unicron planned on making something so Rafael could protect himself.