03-12-2016, 08:22 AM
“Yea,” Seventeen muttered in response. “So this place is like some kind of weird cosmic melting pot? And the white guy with the rainbow ball brought us all here for something?”
The man shrugged his shoulders. “No one knows. Rumor has it that Omni lives in some secret place and only a few people have seen him. Two of them help run Darkshire.”
Seventeen shook his hands. “Yea yea, neat, but what does this mean for me?”
A soft laugh escaped his new pal. “You weren’t some kind of god where you came from, right? I hear those types have the hardest time adjusting when they come here.” The cyborg leaned back and scowled, which caused the other man to let out a few hearty laughs. “You were, weren’t you!”
“Shove it,” Seventeen spat back, although his tone was about as far as one can get from anger. Even so, his new friend just continued to laugh for a few more moments before once more regaining his composure.
“Well if you were, you can expect close to nothing. Everyone loses everything when they wake up in the Fountain of Infinity. Omni wants you to work for something, after all.”
With a smile, Seventeen tore off a stray strand of his jeans. “The guy could have at least given me some fresh clothes.”
“Eh, you can make new ones. You just have to focus and like, visualize that stuff. Apparently that makes it work, unless you’ve got a really dull mind or something.”
At that, the machine-hybrid laughed. “I was a poet in high school. I got this.”
Seventeen turned his attention to his thoughts. In his mind, he pictured himself strolling down the street in his usual attire. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he still saw shredded blues jeans and naked toes. “Didn’t work.”
His friend laughed again. “It takes some time. Ya gotta be patient or else it won’t happen.”
The machine-hybrid frowned before he closed his eyes once again. He made the same mental image where he was walking around in his normal clothes, and to keep it simple, he left out his coat and the armor he occasionally donned. Once the image had sat in his head for a short while, he started to feel a strange warm sensation wash over his body. For the next few minutes, he sat and focused on the idea of fresh clothes, and when he opened his eyes, a grin spread across his pallid visage. The Timberlands that normally encased his feet had returned, and his blues jeans were as fresh and crisp as the moment they were bought form the store.
Standing up, Seventeen reached a palm up to his chest and patted the black t-shirt he always wore. A glimpse showed that his white, long-sleeved undershirt had also been reborn. “Excellent,” the cyborg muttered as he pushed up his sleeve to reveal the multi-purpose tech piece he wore on his hand. While it had usually served as a watch, the display was blank, but a little icon showed that it was charged.
“Sword is there, too,” his acquaintance remarked as Seventeen reached back and felt the familiar grip of the Power Sword. With a swift motion, he unsheathed the blade and brought it in front of his face. On the polished face of the katchin-infused weapon, he saw that he was no longer bruised and marred by his previous battles. “Very nice,” he concluded as he resheathed the sword and looked to his new friend.
“Yea, it’s always neat to watch that.” Seventeen’s acquaintance reached forward and shifted a box so that it aligned a little nicer with those stacked above it. “Some people think being a prime must be a curse, but I imagine it’s gotta have its perks.”
True. Despite this new revelation, the machine-hybrid didn’t know how much he enjoyed the notion of losing everything he’d once had. The idea that years of training and condition had been flushed down the toilet was enough to make him want to find this Omni fellow and chop him in the balls. “You said I can do other stuff, right? I could fix your cart?”
The man shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. My partner betrayed me and stole some of my goods.”
“So those are drugs!”
A solid shake of the head from his friend caused Seventeen a small degree of consternation. “I look like a dealer to you?” The man laughed as he scooped up some of his spilled stock from the bottom of his cart. “I’m a salt merchant,” he added as he let the white granules spill from his downturned palm back onto the boxes.
“There’s a market for that?”
“Oh, yes. People love salt, don’t you?”
Seventeen thought for a moment and nodded his head. “Yea, potato chips and stuff.”
“…and other people use it for other stuff,” the merchant laughed as he pointed in what seemed to be a random direction. “Minas Tirith and the duchies pay a great deal for the stuff, and there’s a lot of untapped salt veins here in the Ashen Steppes. It was supposed to be a lucrative arrangement between Stefon and I.”
“Your partner who betrayed you?”
“Aye.” The man scowled as he glanced at the horizon. “He’s out there still, probably going to sell the goods to some middle man.”
Seventeen glanced into the interior of ‘the Ashen Steppes’ and frowned. After that moment passed, he looked back down at his new friend. “You want me to go get your stuff back? You seem kinda gassed.”
“You’d do that for a stranger?”
“Stranger?” Seventeen laughed. “You’re the only person I know in this place.” At that, the raven-haired warrior stepped forward and offered a hand. “I’m Seventeen, by the way.”
The merchant stood up and reached for the cyborg’s hand. “I’m Ronald, Mr. Seventeen.” With that, the two men shook hands for a brief moment before Seventeen turned his gaze back to the volcano-dotted horizon.
“Any clue where your pal went?”
Ronald shook his head. “He betrayed me about two hours back thataway.” The man pointed straight ahead. “I chased him in that direction.” Seventeen followed the merchant’s finger as it moved to the left—the android didn’t have it in him to admit that he had no idea where north was at in this world.
So even though he was uncertain and had only the world’s vaguest directions to go on, Seventeen clapped a hand on Ronald’s shoulder. “I got this.”
“I’ll stay here, then,” Ronald remarked as he reached into the cart with his hands. When the man lifted them back into view, they were cradling what seemed to be an elephant gun with a little exhaust pipe at the rear of the barrel. As Seventeen watched, the man thumbed a switch, and the old-looking rifle let out the very non-old sounding thrum of energy-based munitions. “Bess here can handle most,” he muttered nonchalantly as he dropped back onto his haunches and seemed to relax for the first time in a while.
“Sounds… sounds good, Ronald,” Seventeen said with a smile as he turned his focus toward ‘thataway’ and started to jog.
The man shrugged his shoulders. “No one knows. Rumor has it that Omni lives in some secret place and only a few people have seen him. Two of them help run Darkshire.”
Seventeen shook his hands. “Yea yea, neat, but what does this mean for me?”
A soft laugh escaped his new pal. “You weren’t some kind of god where you came from, right? I hear those types have the hardest time adjusting when they come here.” The cyborg leaned back and scowled, which caused the other man to let out a few hearty laughs. “You were, weren’t you!”
“Shove it,” Seventeen spat back, although his tone was about as far as one can get from anger. Even so, his new friend just continued to laugh for a few more moments before once more regaining his composure.
“Well if you were, you can expect close to nothing. Everyone loses everything when they wake up in the Fountain of Infinity. Omni wants you to work for something, after all.”
With a smile, Seventeen tore off a stray strand of his jeans. “The guy could have at least given me some fresh clothes.”
“Eh, you can make new ones. You just have to focus and like, visualize that stuff. Apparently that makes it work, unless you’ve got a really dull mind or something.”
At that, the machine-hybrid laughed. “I was a poet in high school. I got this.”
Seventeen turned his attention to his thoughts. In his mind, he pictured himself strolling down the street in his usual attire. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he still saw shredded blues jeans and naked toes. “Didn’t work.”
His friend laughed again. “It takes some time. Ya gotta be patient or else it won’t happen.”
The machine-hybrid frowned before he closed his eyes once again. He made the same mental image where he was walking around in his normal clothes, and to keep it simple, he left out his coat and the armor he occasionally donned. Once the image had sat in his head for a short while, he started to feel a strange warm sensation wash over his body. For the next few minutes, he sat and focused on the idea of fresh clothes, and when he opened his eyes, a grin spread across his pallid visage. The Timberlands that normally encased his feet had returned, and his blues jeans were as fresh and crisp as the moment they were bought form the store.
Standing up, Seventeen reached a palm up to his chest and patted the black t-shirt he always wore. A glimpse showed that his white, long-sleeved undershirt had also been reborn. “Excellent,” the cyborg muttered as he pushed up his sleeve to reveal the multi-purpose tech piece he wore on his hand. While it had usually served as a watch, the display was blank, but a little icon showed that it was charged.
“Sword is there, too,” his acquaintance remarked as Seventeen reached back and felt the familiar grip of the Power Sword. With a swift motion, he unsheathed the blade and brought it in front of his face. On the polished face of the katchin-infused weapon, he saw that he was no longer bruised and marred by his previous battles. “Very nice,” he concluded as he resheathed the sword and looked to his new friend.
“Yea, it’s always neat to watch that.” Seventeen’s acquaintance reached forward and shifted a box so that it aligned a little nicer with those stacked above it. “Some people think being a prime must be a curse, but I imagine it’s gotta have its perks.”
True. Despite this new revelation, the machine-hybrid didn’t know how much he enjoyed the notion of losing everything he’d once had. The idea that years of training and condition had been flushed down the toilet was enough to make him want to find this Omni fellow and chop him in the balls. “You said I can do other stuff, right? I could fix your cart?”
The man shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. My partner betrayed me and stole some of my goods.”
“So those are drugs!”
A solid shake of the head from his friend caused Seventeen a small degree of consternation. “I look like a dealer to you?” The man laughed as he scooped up some of his spilled stock from the bottom of his cart. “I’m a salt merchant,” he added as he let the white granules spill from his downturned palm back onto the boxes.
“There’s a market for that?”
“Oh, yes. People love salt, don’t you?”
Seventeen thought for a moment and nodded his head. “Yea, potato chips and stuff.”
“…and other people use it for other stuff,” the merchant laughed as he pointed in what seemed to be a random direction. “Minas Tirith and the duchies pay a great deal for the stuff, and there’s a lot of untapped salt veins here in the Ashen Steppes. It was supposed to be a lucrative arrangement between Stefon and I.”
“Your partner who betrayed you?”
“Aye.” The man scowled as he glanced at the horizon. “He’s out there still, probably going to sell the goods to some middle man.”
Seventeen glanced into the interior of ‘the Ashen Steppes’ and frowned. After that moment passed, he looked back down at his new friend. “You want me to go get your stuff back? You seem kinda gassed.”
“You’d do that for a stranger?”
“Stranger?” Seventeen laughed. “You’re the only person I know in this place.” At that, the raven-haired warrior stepped forward and offered a hand. “I’m Seventeen, by the way.”
The merchant stood up and reached for the cyborg’s hand. “I’m Ronald, Mr. Seventeen.” With that, the two men shook hands for a brief moment before Seventeen turned his gaze back to the volcano-dotted horizon.
“Any clue where your pal went?”
Ronald shook his head. “He betrayed me about two hours back thataway.” The man pointed straight ahead. “I chased him in that direction.” Seventeen followed the merchant’s finger as it moved to the left—the android didn’t have it in him to admit that he had no idea where north was at in this world.
So even though he was uncertain and had only the world’s vaguest directions to go on, Seventeen clapped a hand on Ronald’s shoulder. “I got this.”
“I’ll stay here, then,” Ronald remarked as he reached into the cart with his hands. When the man lifted them back into view, they were cradling what seemed to be an elephant gun with a little exhaust pipe at the rear of the barrel. As Seventeen watched, the man thumbed a switch, and the old-looking rifle let out the very non-old sounding thrum of energy-based munitions. “Bess here can handle most,” he muttered nonchalantly as he dropped back onto his haunches and seemed to relax for the first time in a while.
“Sounds… sounds good, Ronald,” Seventeen said with a smile as he turned his focus toward ‘thataway’ and started to jog.
![[Image: 17.jpg]](http://omniverse-rpg.com/images/17.jpg)