Current OM: 8621,12  

Due to a recent donation today this swap is possible. 

CHARACTER NAME:  Rafael Esquivel / Unicron 

CHARACTER SOURCE: TFP - My Personal AU 

CHARACTER HISTORY:  Rafael Esquivel was a regular human who encountered a Cybertronian named Bumblebee. Unfortunately in doing so events were set in motion that would change his life forever and not for the better. For little did Humanity know bzt their home was actually the body of Unicron the Chaos Bringer. As a result when Megatron used Dark Energon he was forced to blast at Jack Darby but missed. The blast hit Rafael. This infused him with a copy of the mind of Unicron. When Mech which was a group of humans who were more of a militia took the T-Cog of Bumblebee that allowed him to go into car mode,  Rafael struck a bargain with the copy of Unicron inside of his head. In return for allowing Unicron to stay inside of him, and keeping the secret, Unicron would help Rafael protect humanity from the Decepticons. Given the age of the Chaos Bringer, the Chaos Bringer decided that it would bring more chaos to see what would happen if he did as Rafael wanted, and so he agreed. 

Unicron helped Rafael out by building a plasma blaster out of an Energon Cutter, and one of the riflles used by the Mech Agents. This was offered to them in return for the T-Cog of Bumblebee. After retrieving the T-Cog,  Unicron returned to the Autobot Base where he surgically reinstalled the T-Cog inside of the Transformer. Once that had been done, a battle that Miko convinced Rafael to sneak away with had an accident, an accident that nearly killed Rafael. It was at this point that Rafael was brought to the Omniverse. 

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

 

 



STATS:
ATK: 2
DEF: 2
SPD: 2
TEC: 4

STARTING PROFICIENCIES:  Physical Strength - 1000 OM.   Area Attack (600)  Area Defense (400)    Debuff Proficiency (1000)  Buff Proficiency (400) 

STARTING POWERS:
Master Acrobat - 400 OM 
Insight - 1600 
Telepathy - 1500

STARTING MOVES:
 
Neural Net Contact (Flavor Move):  Due to being stuck inside his body, Unicron can project his thoughts, and neural impulses for other people around him to hear, as if he were actually talking with them. 

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

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So while this isn't 'official' or anything, I figured I'd just say - I'm probably going to be stepping back mostly from writing. My original intention was always to do this, but I got caught up in writing characters and playing with my own system. Thing is, that leaves me less time to be an admin.

So I'ma try to focus more on adminning, which might mean I go long periods between writing. No difference, right? Except this time, this is more of an intention. I won't actually be giving up my characters, because I'm a human prone to flights of fancy, and maybe sometimes I wanna do the Adventures of Samus and Meruem, but interactions with my characters should probably be viewed through the lens of NPCs. As, again, was originally intended.

Edit: Not to say that I'm immunising myself from bounty hunts. If you wanna try to steal Enel's artefact, I'll still kick yer ass. I just might request an extension.

Purchases and Deductions for Ainz Ooal Gown go here!

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According to a watch that had been arbitrarily set to a random time, it had been nearly six hours since they had left the strange white void. In that time he had summoned a new vehicle, traveled to the edge of the monochrome bubble world and through a smoke-belching gate...then summarily lost the vehicle to unexpected engine trouble caused by a sharp upturn in not only temperature, but pollution in the air.

Internally, he blamed it entirely on the driving of his aide. He knew it was entirely inaccurate; Mister Death had in all likelihood been the better choice for driving between the two of them. Purely mortal and limited to human capabilities he may have been, but he had been doing such work and operating vehicles in all manner of terrain far more than Wesker himself had. Despite his time as a STARS operative, and later as an intelligence agent in Umbrella's covert operations, he had been more focused on the boots-on-the-ground aspect.

By his reckoning, the entire scene had taken perhaps two hours, from summoning to losing the vehicle. Which put them at another four hours, in this smoke-hazed landscape. For a while now they had been mercifully free of the shimmering heat haze that seemed intent on proving itself the maximum possible irritant, and had managed to make fairly steady progress. Progress to where, the seething executive had no idea. But progress was progress.

Mister Death's tracking skills and experience in the field had proved itself useful, however, in finding the broken carcass of what looked like a path of some sort. In this arid, ashen wasteland, it was hard to really identify it as any sort of path at all. The telltale signs were everywhere, of shifting landmasses and the lay of the land changing -- possibly by the day. Quakes in the land, flows of lava from eruptions and geological flatulence...it did not shape up to make for stable ground to traverse.

Yet somehow or other, through it all, Agent HUNK had proved his worth. It was little more than a footpath, freshly broken and trod, and in places there were stretches where it was completely lost. But it was still there to be found and followed, even if where it actually led to was a mystery.

"This entire place seems far too desolate to support any sort of developed intelligent life," Wesker finally stated. "Unless there's some sort of species that can survive off of volcanic rock and not mind the ground being torn to pieces and relaid every other day."

"Never can tell. Place like this, all bets are off," HUNK responded shortly. "Since I got here, watched you patch yourself up from what should have taken days to heal, at the least, in just a few hours of rest and effort. After pulling a new suit and wardrobe out of thin air, and making that car drop out of your imagination." The special agent turned his gasmask-covered face toward his superior. "Rock-eating lava-ignoring intelligent life seems mundane next to that."

That was a sensible enough observation, and it gave Wesker pause for a moment as he considered it. In his agitated state, he had failed to even consider it from an outside point of view. In his mind, it was just another useful ability to be carefully explored and then fully utilized and exploited. Entirely different from anything he could have possibly attained in his home world, but still something he had readily accepted. Regardless of where it came from, it was his now, and it would be a valuable tool.

...but it did cast some things into a strange light, and make him reconsider the likelihood that they wouldn't encounter anything resembling intelligent life here. The more he thought about it, the more he began to find other possibilities creeping into his mind. In an arid and desolate land like this, it was terribly unlikely that there would be an abundance of life of any sort, save for extremely hardy sorts. Certain types of reptilian creatures, perhaps, could survive in these inhospitable conditions. The lack of moisture would be their primary concern, but perhaps they had adapted enough to gather all they needed just from what they consumed; preying upon each other.

Then there was also another prospect. Reaching up a hand, he pulled the sunglasses off his face, running his other across his features to wipe away a disgusting mixture of collected sooth, ash, dust, and sweat. Squinting against the smoky haze, he scanned the horizon, and...aha. Of course, active volcanoes and mountains. Ample space for caves and quite likely underground chambers, if even one of them was inactive or had gone quiet.

The mind of a scientist was truly something, when set to a task such as this. He had not put it to such work in a long while, saving it for work in the lab rather than the field, but he was more than a little self-satisfied to find that he still had his edge when he took the time to bring it to bear. It was with a faint smirk that he slid his shades back into place, and adjusted the collar of his coat. Even for someone of his fortitude, the garment was stiflingly hot. Only the painstaking care to make it loose and flowing, all the better to billow and catch the wind, made it bearable at all.

....much longer in this insufferable hellscape, and even he would need to see about changing it, or removing it altogether, though.

He threw everything he could. Lightning. Wind. Hail. Rain. Fog. Cold. Heat. Every single weather effect that he could think of, everything that would drive a person to death. He tried striking his opponent down with lightning, blasting her aside with wind, pelting her down with hail. Everything. He brought the wrath of the heavens down upon her and yet, after all that, she still stood, her lips still moving in a wordless chant, magic still swirling at her fingertips. And there he was, master of the weather, forced to the ground, knees digging into the dirt as he struggled to stand.

The chilling rain of his storm pelted against him, water washing into his numerous wounds, stinging him. Roaring winds rushed past him, flinging up dirt and mud, bending the long grass surrounding them, but somehow leaving both of them untouched. An unseasonable frost, somehow surviving the pouring range, had long since stopped creeping along the ground all around them. Little light penetrated through the thick, dark clouds in the sky. Most of their fight had been illuminated by the glow of her spells, the numerous flashes of lightning not only in the clouds, but also arcing to the ground. By now the storm that brought those frequent flashes was beginning to die, and now the battlefield was as dark as a bright winter’s night.

And just like his storm was beginning to fade, so too it felt like he was. There was nothing left the spirit of the weather could do. No matter how he willed his body, he just couldn’t rise up. Was it simply exhaustion? Could he simply not lift his limbs anymore? No. It didn’t feel like that. He’d fought until he couldn’t move anymore; until he started consuming his very body to cast his spells. Though his chest heaved with deep breaths, and his muscles screamed in their overexertion, he could still tell that this wasn’t like that. It was as though he simply couldn’t work up the willpower to move.

But that shouldn’t have been possible. He was the master of the weather, the terror of man! He infiltrated villages like a light breeze, joking, laughing, making friends. He was the master of faking emotion. The master of becoming emotion. There was no one out there with the master over their feelings that he had. If he wanted to be cheerful, he would become it! If he wanted to rage, then he would succumb to it! Even his willpower was bottomless! There was nothing that should have been able to force him to stop fighting save for death itself. Let alone something that made him lose his nerves like this.

And yet here he was, unable, unwilling to keep fighting this enemy. She hadn’t even completely crushed him; he still had energy, he could change the weather once more. And even past that, he could start eating up his body! He still had fuel, he could still fight until the bitter end. But it felt like he just couldn’t. He couldn’t work up the will to raise another fist at the black-cloaked enemy in front of him. And he knew exactly why.

This entire fight, he had no control over his emotions, that control he was so dearly proud of. He’d raged until that rage had been replaced by cheer he shouldn’t have had. Cheer morphed into sadness. Sadness into anxiety. Anxiety into apathy. All of that and back again. Every spell the mage in front of him cast had simply... tore his mental state asunder, forcing him to feel things he didn’t want to feel. Forcing him to even think things he didn’t want to think! She’d whispered her spells directly into his mind, and he knew of only one thing that could do such a thing. The impossible magics. Telepathy.

She had used the magic that no one had used before on him, that he’d rarely even seen people attempt. She deftly wielded spells that would have killed a lesser magician, throwing his emotions into a turmoil, planting terrible ideas in his mind. Hell, somehow she’d even managed to look into his mind, learn how he thought, see what he was going to do, all while somehow avoiding the paralysis that came with it. With those magics, she learned what he was feeling, and how to manipulate those feelings to her own goals, forcing him to play right into her hands.

There was nothing the spirit of the storms could have done. Every action he tried worked against him. Whenever he attacked, it was because she had guided him to do so, knowing exactly how to counter it. When he defended, it was because she knew where his openings were, and how to work against it. She read every single storm he summoned as though she were him. Even though he was the one directing the winds to his whims, she knew how they would blow. When the fog rolled in, she knew exactly where he was anyway. Hell, if the hail he’d summoned hadn’t been so indiscriminate, he was certain she’d have found a way to work against it.

All this because of the impossible magics she wielded. Telepathy. There was no doubt in his mind. The mage in front of him was the undisputed master of emotional magics, to a degree none could ever hope to close in on. Merlin. The terror of mankind that not even the weather could become. Unstoppable, unassailable, unreadable. He couldn’t help but be in awe of her sheer power. It may not have been pure, physical strength, the sort of thing that could move any obstacle in her way. Nor was it a natural, raging strength, the kind that would bend even mighty trees to her whim. But it was still strength nonetheless. Anything that could feel, anything that could think, would be forced to bow to her. And there was nothing they could do about it.

The spirit of storms smiled at Merlin, humbled. It had been far too long since he’d been in a fight like this. He couldn’t say that he liked it. Not at all. But nevertheless, it was strangely exhilarating. He had never been humbled like this before, and he doubted he would be in the future, either. A true, once-in-a-lifetime experience, even for someone ageless like him. Here he was, nature’s wrath given physical form, shoved into the dirt by possibly the greatest magician to ever exist. He wasn’t a medium, he couldn’t tell what the future would hold, for him or for her, but he could still tell true power when he saw it. And that right there, a pure, unmatched strength packed into a frame no larger than 5’2” and 105 lbs, and hidden behind a dark cloak, was true power. He almost felt honored to have been bested by such a girl. If only it weren’t for the fact that he was probably about to die. That tended to put a damper on things....

“Well, it’s done...” The spirit of weather panted, doing his best to raise his voice above the raging winds, his chest heaving with deep breaths. There wasn’t a single ounce of fight left within him. For a brief moment, he let those winds touch him, blasting his grey hair back and out of his eyes, just so he could look at his opponent properly. “You’ve bested the weather itself. What next?” His green/grey eyes scoured her face, trying to get a read on her expression. She remained just as serious and unamused as ever. He sort of expected that. There weren’t all that many people who would be cheerful after such a battle. It was a bittersweet victory for her. She couldn’t save the village he had just razed, after all.

Without a single word, she raised a hand towards him, and just like that he could feel magic stirring in the air. This was it. This was where he was going to die. He didn’t show a single sign of fear on his face, simply kneeling there stoically, though he could still feel it stirring in his heart. One thousand years of terror and destruction, all wrought in the name of the weather itself, for he was the weather itself. And now it was all about to come to an end, all from a girl who could have been no older than twenty. A true prodigy. Well, at least if he was dying, it was at the hands of someone cute....


It took longer than he thought for her to put the spell together. The spell that would tear him apart. For who knew how long, he simply stared at the soft palm of the one who would end him, invisible magics rending apart the air in front of her hand, slowly stirring and gathering. He could feel the strength of that attack growing. It was one hell of a spell she was putting together. Was she going for maximum torment or something? Trying to let the fear set in? He couldn’t tell. The only expression Merlin wore on her face was neutral. This was the expression of someone putting a feral animal out of their misery. He would feel insulted, if only he hadn’t been so impressed.

Finally, her spell hit. No flash, no flare, just like the rest of them. Suddenly he simply felt his body trying to pull itself apart. Agony ripped through him, his very being straining, threatening to become completely undone, as though everything down his consciousness itself was trying to tear itself asunder. Every muscle, every molecule, every atom felt like it was trying to escape him. There was no part of his being that didn’t want to be somewhere else. So that was how she wanted to end him, complete annihilation!

Even in spite of all his amazing willpower, a scream escaped the spirit of the weather. He couldn’t help it, the pain was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Everything was trying to escape him. Everything. Everything. Everything! His arms, his fingers, his body, his brain, his thoughts, his memories, his existence, his life, his death! Everything! Things he didn’t even know could hurt were in agony. Happiness hurt! Pain itself hurt! All the agony he felt, he felt twice over!

And suddenly everything snapped apart. His consciousness rebounded into him, and his head snapped back as though slapped by an elastic tether. The spirit fell backward, mud splashing as he sank into it, and he found himself blankly staring into the grey sky above, rain pattering against his face. Something felt... off....

Mixed emotions surged through his chest.

He breathed in slowly, tranquility seeping through him.

A tumultuous storm enveloped him.

Was this what the light of a perfect summer day felt like?

Anyone who stood in his way would be crushed.

Calm. Dangerous. Something to be enjoyed but not chanced.

Simultaneously, two people sat up from the ground, frozen mud staining their backs. They looked absolutely identical in every respect, and yet something seemed vaguely different about them. As if on a cue, the two seemed to notice each other out of their peripheries, and they turned. Two heads recoiled simultaneously, one with a baffled, angry look on its face, the other peering curiously. For a few seconds, they simply stared, each closely studying the other. In concert, they turned, heads swiveling at the same pace as they brought their attention to Merlin.

“What the fuck did you do!?”

“What did you do?”

Two voices spoke simultaneously, one polite and one enraged. Though one tensed up, ready to spring, neither of them moved from where they sat on the cold, rain-soaked ground. Whatever spell the young magician had cast to make them stay in place still seemed to be working, in spite of whatever new thing she had wrought upon them. She pulled her hood and cloak closer to her, the fabric hanging limply around her small frame, completely unaffected by the raging storm. She stared at the two with deep green eyes, trying to hide from the rain pouring down over the moor.

“I know not what consequences would arise from killing the weather.” Merlin’s voice was soft and monotonous. Even though it was so quiet, he could still hear her clearly over the pouring rain, the raging winds, the distant cracks of thunder. Those were the first words he had heard her speak. She hadn’t made one little noise before she jumped him, and at most, he’d heard a few grunts of pain during the hail he’d summoned. She was truly a ‘quiet’ one. “Thus, I simply tore you apart. You should not be able to wreak havoc anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘Tore me apart!?’”

“What do you mean ‘Tore me apart?’”

The same sentence spoken twice simultaneously, but in two different intonations. Calm and furious. The small girl looming over their kneeling forms shifted slightly on her feet, her face as placid as ever. If she was at all intimidated by the fury in one of their voices, she didn’t show it.

“Exactly what it implies. Storm and Clear Sky. Arashi and Kaisei...” she spoke the names awkwardly, clearly not knowing the language, but obviously gleaning what she could from their minds. “You are two now. Do with that what you will.”

With that said, Merlin’s business was done. She spun away from the two without fanfare, pulling her hood over her face as she turned into the rain. Her dark cloak wrapped around her tightly, guided by her magic, and she strode away nonchalantly, walking into the roaring winds as though they were nothing, sure-footed even as icy mud splashed and slid away beneath her boots.

“Wait!” One of them demanding, throwing himself forward just as the spell sapping them of all motivation ended. His hand clamped onto the back of her cloak with an iron grip, and the magician was forced to stop in her tracks, though still, she did not turn to face them. Even with their overwhelming strength threatening to sneak up from behind, she seemed thoroughly unconcerned. “Why are you letting me live!?” Though they were the words of one half, he was speaking for both of them. “Either kill me or bind me to your will! That’s how it’s supposed to go when you defeat a monster like me! Not whatever mockery this is! Give me something honorable at least!”

Merlin stood silently for a few seconds, eerily still amidst the raging winds. She didn’t give the slightest hint of a response until.... “I already told you, I know not what would arise from slaying the weather itself. Thus I shall not chance it.” Her tone was just as monotonous as ever, in spite of the human monstrosity clinging to her outfit. “Additionally, you offer me nothing I don’t already have. Thus, I shall not bind you.”
The spirit’s grip faltered, his heart shattering. Both of their jaws fell open, and just like that, Merlin effortlessly wrested herself free from his grip and continued into the storm, unperturbed.

What?

There was nothing he could offer her? Him? Nothing? The powerful, indomitable spirit of the weather itself couldn’t offer anything to some two-bit human mage that she didn’t already have? One half clenched his teeth, falling to his hands and knees, staring in rage at the flooding ground beneath him. Nothing!? The air seemed to stir around him for a moment, the unmistakable feeling of electrical brilliance building in the up as he rose to face the magician.

“Don’t!” The other half called out, springing to his feet far too late. Lightning flashed once more, and blackness consumed the two of them.

Let's gush about mechs and how we can adapt them to the Omniverse!

Personally I'm a fan of mechs like those featured in Zone of the Enders, VirtualON, and Full Metal Panic.

Essentially that's high mobility and moderate size with several weapons systems.

(If you're not familiar with VirtualON, then you missed out on the greatest cockpit-controlled arcade mech fighting game ever. https://youtu.be/V6is3_0SlZs )

I would estimate that a powered-up form would suit these types of robots best, but most of the weaponry would still have to be regular moves to allow for SP budgeting.

Probably about four moves for weapons systems, basic regen for damage control, and probably an emergency eject move as well (i.e. a move that allows for instant transition back to a base form regardless of and hold or speed debuffs).

Other thoughts?

Strazio frowned. Minas Tirith towered before him and his companions. Gargantuan white walls formed concentric bulwarks around the city. Strazio’s pace slowed as they made their way across the gently sloping road that led to the city.

“Something wrong?” Malon asked.

Strazio shook his head, “no, I just don’t like big cities is all.”

“Why not?”

Strazio did not answer right away. The boy had spent most of his life sleeping in the wilderness underneath the stars. Magick was abhorrent and mages were aberrations, hated and hunted. Strazio’s tempestuous temper made it hard for him to keep his power hidden and a life of isolation was not only preferred, but necessary if he was to survive. Despite this he swallowed his fear and reminded himself that the Omniverse was bit more varied than his homeland.

“No reason,” he answered, “I just don’t like being that close to so many people, it’s annoying.”

Gamzee threw his arm around Strazio, “ah, it won’t be so bad, Strawso, there is lotsa mirth in a place like that.”

“Fuck off Gamzee,” he said.

Let's say I made a character who I wanted to serve Diablo, would I be able to contact the big guy? Is he in the yellow pages? Do I need to form a cult and perform a summoning? A seance? Do I need a Ouija board? What gives, how do?

I'd rather not get banished just to start doing missions for the big guy, is this possible?

Who wins? Vote, vote, vote!

Can you no longer complete older book clubs? I noticed the older ones are now locked? How do? (Can we fix this?)