(Preshow) Registration [Where you sign up IC]

[Karl Jak]

From Here: http://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=10055
Okay, How Do I Join? - Starting sometime in late May, the in-character Registration booths will pop up throughout the Omniverse.  These ‘booths’ include a large tent housing an office-like area, a staff of three Syntech employees, and a smaller room with a metal pad.
 
When you go to sign up (there will be a thread in the Dante Verse), these workers will take your biography, your vitals, and film a small promo of you to air on the Dataverse and on other streaming services.  You will then be ushered to the back, where you will be Recalled to Syntech Station 18 (aka ‘the Preshow Facility’) in the Dante Verse.  When you post in the ‘Registration’ thread, please make sure you include your Verse in the title (example: <Camelot> Registration)
 
The preshow facility is very similar to last year’s event.  There’s a central hallway that connects to several domes.  This information will be included in a sticky when the preshow launches.

• Library – a quiet zone where people can read and surf the Dataverse.  Books can be found from all types of worlds and histories and parallel universes.  How much of it is legit and how much is science fiction?  Fuck if Karl knows.
  
• Park – an ‘outdoor’ area where people can play sports or enjoy a picnic.  During the last few hours before the event launches, this area will turn into a ‘nighttime park’ complete with a little meteor shower.
  
• Dojo/Gym – a place for people to work out or practice fighting to keep them amped.
  
• Bar – a dome that contains a variety of restaurants, bars, and cafes that serve all types of cuisines.  You’ll find what you like, we assure you.
  
• Barracks – All accepted participants have their own private room where they can go to rest and escape the crowds.
  
• Teleportation Hub – A room with a large teleportation chamber that is used to send combatants to areas across the Dante Verse. This room is locked during the pre-show
  

Note – Please note that violence against Syntech employees or willful destruction of Syntech property will disqualify you from participation.
 
Also Note – If you want your character to join in some unique fashion, please PM me ahead of time.

Please make sure you note in your post title what location you are registering from ("Camelot") and make sure that you've updated your roster recently or intend to do so over the next week.

Once you post here, you may move to the Preshow Facility thread.

Note: If you think you will be unable to register ic prior to the 6th of June, let me know.  We can possibly work something out.

Sign ups will remain open until Wednesday, June 6th.  This will be followed by a four day planning period, and Round 1 will officially commence on the 10th of June.

[Albert Wesker]

Cerise parted ways with her....benefactor a short ways outside of the town of Darkshire, with the unsettling promise that he would be watching closely, and a reminder to keep in touch. Updates whenever she could manage to catch a break in the activity and all that. It was a mixed emotional bag, really. Being in the man's presence, even as weak and harmless as he seemed -- just a regular, average human, really; highly trained and probably capably, but just a man with nothing special about him -- still felt like being in the room with a tiger. A hungry tiger.

She was glad to get away from him, really. More than that. And not just for the way it felt to be near him, but just because of the way he carried himself and acted. That cold, distant way of speaking, false sympathy and kindness, and a calculating detachment from the ones he worked with and supported. It reminded her uncomfortably of someone else. Someone else with that same attitude, same demeanor, same way of looking at people. Being around him was like being in a cage with a massive, venomous, starving snake. It always made her skin crawl.

....but still. It was her uncle. Her only surviving family. Despite all his external coldness, he did genuinely care about things. Family was one of them, even if it did sometimes take a backseat to business and progress.

More than the similarities between them, though, it was the way Cerise had so easily let herself get talked into this insufferable Dante's Abyss. After so much time spent in the Omniverse alone, doing everything she could to try and work back up to even her former strength, let alone much else, that...tiny amount of praise. Confidence and assurance that she could do well, and all that was expected was the best she could do. It had struck a chord, and far more powerfully than she'd been prepared to contend with.

....and now here she was. Ready to sign up for Dante's Abyss at the behest of someone she barely knew. Risking life and limb -- even if death was at best a minor inconvenience, here in the Omniverse. She'd already died before, more than once, in her time here. It wasn't exactly pleasant, and it had left her shaken up pretty badly. Just have to not die, though. That was the plan.

Onward she went, toward the the registration booth. She'd seen them before, in the previous year, but never bothered to actually get too near one. Now that she was, it was actually mildly impressive how it was set up. As was the efficiency with which she was met, and the employees there got to work.

Lots of basic information, really. Getting down details, information from her, and several questions which she answered as best she could. Her vitals were taken, which she found rather odd. And to their credit, no one batted an eye at the strangeness of her...not quite normal human vital signs. This place was just chock full of that, after all. The strangest thing of all, though, was the...promo they wanted to film. Not that she really had any objections, especially with the chance it gave her. She put on a sweet, nervous facade -- it was all too easy to do so, with how ridiculous this seemed and unprepared for it she was. The innocent little figure, not really prepared for this but going to try anyway. Didn't really know how well she was going to do, but she would do her best.

When it was done, she was ushered off out of sight of the main area, into the back. There was a teleporter there, and as it powered up and prepared to whisk her away to wherever this thing was taking place, she could only heave a heavy sigh and rub at her good eye. This was gonna be...a mess.

[Marisa Kirisame]

As Marisa looked around the city on top of her roof, she sighed as her hands were cupped behind her back. She really was a very lucky human all things considered. Even if her life was essentially playing a game for fun she still found new light in the form of magic and the impossible.

Alice had floated right next to her and started to look out as well. "You really are something special, Marisa. I can't figure out why or how but you have touched the lives of hundreds in Gensokyo." Marisa smiled with a gentle grin much unlike her usual demenor. She turned to the seven colored puppeteer and nodded before speaking gently.

"I really don't know if I would put this path upon anyone else but I have to thank Lady Mima for her teaching me." She dipped her head towards the vengeful spirit in a show of respect towards the one person she ever truly gave real respect towards, for letting her follow her dreams in a world that was distrustful to magic.

"You might want to take a look at this Kirisame." Alice handed marisa a flyer to the witch who started to look it over carefully. Dante's Abyss fighting tournament, anyone eligible to enter. winner gets a fabulous prize!

Marisa rubbed her chin as she thought about it. "It does seem interesting from a fighting standpoint." Marisa turned her head slightly to get a fairly good view of Alice. "Well where do I go to sign up then?" Marisa knew that a small voice in her head was telling her it was a trap, but there was treasure involved and, heck that was a good enough reason to do most things; she thought.

"Well there is a sign up place near the gates if you really want to do this." Alice smirked rubbing the witch the wrong way with that dig at her. Marisa chuckled as she gave a grin that accepted the insult. Before stepping off the roof and landing onto the street with a cloud of dust rising around her. She then started to walk with purpose, after grabbing her things to the booth. Once there she was asked some fairly basic information which she answered in kanji before warily walked over to the teleportation pad before being whisked away to the Dante's Abyss.

[Desman Black]

Desman burst into the tent, his breathing rapid as he forced words out if his mouth. “I’m here… to register…”

“Just fill out this form then someone will come to help you.” The person who had answered him had a nonchalant attitude, like a person who was finally sick of his simple but high paying job. And while the red head really didn’t appreciate having to do all these menial tasks. Well, that was until they had to shot the promo.

“No! I don’t have time for this!” First words out of his mouth. It took awhile but they finally managed to keep him in front of the camera long enough to shoot the thing, despite the man star showing his anger of it throughout. Hopefully the rest if the event won’t be this annoying to prepare for.

[Yu Kanda]

A few days have passed since the aftermath of his ordeal with Victor and the so called shadow-queen. The days that followed mainly consisted out of cleaning up the mess that was left behind and processing the men and women who were arrested. Many people saw this as an opportunity to start their own business. It gave Kanda a satisfying feeling, knowing he and his guards contributed to this.

During one of his daily patrols he noticed a small group of strangers setting up shop. Their sign and uniform all said Syntech. The captain decided to inquire what business they had in Nippur.

“Morning, so what's all this then? Syntech branching out?” One of the female staff members walked up to him, “Good morning!” She spoke with an unpleasantly high pitched tone of voice, “ We are here to celebrate the wonderful Omniverse greatest spectacle returning. It's a new year and a new Dante’s Abyss.” It was as if a cheerleader on an overdose of caffeine tried to sell him happy pills. “We of Syntech are here to open registration for primes willing to participate in this fabulous competition of power. The board recognises the new Nippur as a beacon of civilisation here in the dunes, and that's why we are here!” She ended her pathetic speech filled with enthusiasm with her hands raised in the air. The captain did not flinch, nor did he seem excited. He heard of the competition before but never competed himself. “Thank you for considering our town. On behalf of the guards i welcome Syntech to Nippur. If there is anything we can do to assist you, please let us know.” He felt proud of the fact that he did not let his true opinion of the sugar rushed woman shimmer through. He continued his daily routine.

After his walk Kanda returned to the Guard station. At the reception there was only a single female guard. Dave had been given a few days off to spend with his daughter whom he finally was reunited with. The receptionist gave Kanda a kind nod and a warm hello walking past to his office. The past few days have been quiet, giving the captain time to read up on the events that happened to Nippur in the past. Reading about what happened during the war, banishment of the king, a city in turmoil and leaving the civilians to fend for themselves. Unprotected they were an easy pray for people like the Shadow-queen to use for their own gain. Now that Nippur was being rebuild, the people in the Omniverse would need to be aware that the shit that happened all this time ago wasn't going to fly anymore. That whomever got it in their thick skull to go on a rampage within the city borders, they would be swiftly dealt with, using brute force.

The captain leaned back in his chair, spun it around to look outside and continue his thoughts. Perhaps this Dante’s Abyss wasn't such a bad idea. It would make a statement towards potential enemies and allies alike. These thoughts continued for a little while as he stared outside. He didn’t even notice Barry walking in his office,”I know that look, i take it you’ve seen the syntech folk as well?” Kanda turned his black leather chair around, facing Barry. “Indeed i have.” The soldier grinned,”I have known you for quite some time now. We both know you love an opportunity to hurt people and get away with it. And representing this city is not a bad idea seeing the position it’s in.” It would have seemed that Barry was already thinking the same way. “You're right. Not about me wanting to fight but about representing what the nippur guards stand for.” Barry shrugged,”Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sir. I believe sign ups start tomorrow.” His mind was set, this year would be Kanda’s first year of participating in Syntech Dante’s Abyss.

The next day Kanda walked back to the signup station, not looking forward of dealing with that same hyped up sugarcane of a woman again. Luckily for him she was nowhere to be seen. An older woman was sitting at a desk next to a transporter. In front of her there were several forms, all blank. Perhaps he was the first prime of nippur to register? He walked up to her, “I’m here to sign up for the competition.”

“Name?” She said with the least amount of interest as she placed a pair of glasses onto her nose.

“Kanda”

The woman sighed, “Full name, please.”
“Kanda….Yu. He never liked sharing his full name, for years he tried to either avoid it or bury it.

“Prime or secondary?”
“Prime”
“occupation?”
“Black order exorcist and Guard Captain of Nippur”

She looked up at him, “Well aren't you important mister guard captain the exorcist.” The mocking tone of the woman started to annoy Kanda but he remained in control of his temper.

“Place of residence? Let me guess, the sandbox?”
“Nippur, correct.”

“Associated Faction?”
“New Babylon.”

“Are you aware that Syntech is in no way responsible for both physical and mental harm this competition may or may not cause?”
“I am.”

“Are you aware that destruction of Syntech property or assaulting staff and or other participants within the facility is prohibited and results in disqualification?”
“I am now.”

she pushes a filled out form towards him and handed him a pen. “if you agree to all this, sign at the dotted line.” Kanda complied and signed the form before handing it back. With the most boring and monogamous of tones she sent the captain off, “ Congratulations, you are now officially registered as a competitor for this years Dante’s Abyss. Please head to our facility through this teleporter. Goodluck and watch out for the first step.

Kanda got up the platform and before he was sent off he noticed how Barry together with some guards came to see him off. Even some of the civilians stood and watched as Kanda got teleported away.

[Bandit With No Name]

The rumble of the massive M35 shook the tent poles where the somewhat nervous-looking Syntech employee stood. He looked up at the behemoth vehicle as it churned and grumbled, almost positive that this was one of the infamous raids they had warned him about back in camp. His mind raced, thinking about how they had chosen an area with plenty of security from the city. He thought about how they weren’t allowed to carry heavy weapons, and if they were in real danger that their priority was the safety of the teleportation pad. It was more expensive than he was, by a wide margin.
 
When the door flew open and a heavy metal road warrior stepped out, he prepared himself to set the teleporter to “Find Home” and made peace with Omni. When she casually walked up, an engine block hammer in her hand, laser rifle strapped to her back, and said, “’Sup,” he wasn’t sure how to respond.
 
“Buh- Welc- uh, welcome to Syntech Dante’s Abyss 18 registration! Duh-, um, we have, uh, we have some forms and stuff if you want to enter?”
 
A pink-haired grease monkey and some kind of pace elf walked up behind them. “We just want to watch primes get murdered,” the pink haired one said bluntly.
 
The elf’s bright purple eyes locked on the beastly woman that had first walked up. “Though, I cannot say I would not be interested in seeing my friend here compete.”
 
The wasteland woman turned sharply to her friend. “Yo I literally just got back from another competition like this.”
 
Caret grinned widely, “It’s been two years! And I didn’t get see the last one.” She made a cartoonish frown and flashed a convincing pair of pleading eyes.
 
The elf slid her slender fingers over the ragged edge of the woman’s heavily spiked armor. “Besides,” her voice seemed to pulse and throng inside the Syntech employee’s head, each syllable pounding with ethereal importance, “what do you have to lose?”
 
“And don’t tell me you didn’t have fun collecting all your little trophies!” the mechanic chimed in, patting a literal decapitated head on the woman’s belt as though it was a lap dog.
 
“Hng,” the woman grunted, “I was so into the idea of just relaxing and watching people get fucking wrecked from the crowd. Have a drink. Eat a hot dog.”
 
Swooping around the warrior, the elf smiled softly, her hand never leaving the surface of the woman’s armor. “If you are tired, you can simply quit and join us in the stands,” she all but whispered. “I desperately want to see you in battle.”
 
“Mmm,” the bandit grumbled, her friends bouncing and pleading at her sides, “fine I guess.”
 
Caret cheered in joy, literally jumping into the air and pumping her fist upwards. The elf slipped away, her cloak draping along after her and her expression shifted to one of subtle satisfaction. “Where do I join” the warrior asked, pushing away from her retinue and into the shade of the tent.
 
“Well, you’ll have to sign in here,” he tapped a tablet in his hand, bringing up several sheets of paperwork, “and we’ll need to gather some biometric data from you. Then we’ll shoot a little promo for you-“
 
“Promo?” the woman asked.
 
The tech continued tapping away at his pad as he prepared the logistics. “Yeah, uh, like a short video we can use to like, advertise with.”
 
“Oh, right, got ya,” she said, poking at a nearby monitor set up on a plastic folding table.
 
He pulled out a stylus, put on a smile and asked, “So, what’s your name?”
 
“Don’t got one,” she said flatly, not even looking back to him.
 
“Uhhh.” His smile melted. “What do you mean?”
 
“Like, a name. I do not have one.” She had the keyboard in her hand now, off the table, and she turned it back and forth as if it was the first one she’d ever seen.
 
His eyebrows scrunched and he tapped his stylus on the pad a few times. “That doesn’t appear to be an option.”
 
“Well I don’t know what to tell you man, I don’t have a name.” She plopped the keyboard back down unceremoniously and turned to the tech.
 
“Uh, well, what do people call you?” he asked, a bit more timidly.
 
“Hey, you!” Caret chimed in, taking no small amount of joy from the interaction.
 
The elf paused for a moment and then offered up, “Masque of the Reaper’s Mirth.”
 
The tech looked to the non-human, whatever she was. “A bit dramatic.”
 
After a moment of pondering, the woman said, “Whatever you do, do not put down, ‘The Bandit With No Name.’ Did that one last time. You can’t really be nameless if people keep calling you the same shit.”
 
“Well, uh, what would you say your distinctive style is?” the tech getting creative. He had to put down something and he didn’t want to be stuck with these people all day.
 
The steel-gilded combatant pounded her fist into an open palm. “Ass kicking,” she said sarcastically.
 
“Alllllright,” the tech said quickly, scribbling on his pad, “We have one ‘Ass Kicker’ down in the books.” He looked up to the contestant and pointed his stylus at her, “You’ll just have to know they mean you when they announce you.”
 
The woman boomed out a laugh, “Oh my shit that’s perfect.”
 
“Ok, next up, give me a brief bio.” Already having guessed the next question, he followed up. “Where did you come from? Who are you? What’s your story?”
 
A dull sense of sorrow thumped out from her, all her joy gone in a wink of an eye. “Well, I was a secondary once. For whatever reason, after I died, well after I got killed, Omni brought me back. I fought in that big tourney in Camelot, and now I’m here. Not much to say.”
 
Caret shook her head. “She’s selling you short. She’s amazing. She’s done so much.”
 
He smiled to the mechanic, “That’ll work though. We don’t need much.” He noted down what he needed, and continued. “Ok, next we just have to take a few vitals. Come over here with me and we’ll grab them real quick! It’s painless.”
 
The bandit handed off her hammer to Caret and trudged to the small chair beside a piece of complex medical machinery. “Should I take my armor off?”
 
“Ah no, the diodes will read fine with it on.” He pulled a few small, white circles from the tray and peeled the paper from their sticky backing. He cleaned off a few small patches of her skin with an alcohol wipe and applied them on her temple, jaw, forearm, wrist and neck. After a few moments, the machine beeped and he pulled them away. “See? All done.”
 
“Dope,” she replied. “What next?”
 
“Promotional material, if I recall?” the elf in the red cloak and fancy white armor said softly as she could, but her voice will bounced around the room.
 
“That’s right!” the tech responded, more than accustomed to the oddity of the Omniverse’s inhabitants. He gestured at a tall green screen set up in the corner of the room. “Just join me over here, say something cool, and that’ll be it! Don’t worry, we’ll give you a little bit of directing if you’re having a rough time.”
 
“Alight,” she said and stood up and walked over to the screen. “Just stand in front of the green, yeah?”
 
The tech held his tablet in front of himself and stabilized it with the other hand. “Yup! Now Give me a war face!”
 
The woman flexed hard and grimaced sarcastically. “They call me ASS KICKER and I am here to KICK YOUR ASS!” she snarled in a faux baritone. There was a short pause before she burst into laughter and dropped the pose.
 
The tech gave a genuine laugh and let the tablet sag. “Ok, that was good, but maybe… hm. Get your hammer.”
 
Caret walked up and handed it over. “You know you have a literal war face, right?” she asked, teasing the woman gently.
 
She nodded, “Ah yeah, good call.” She put the head of the hammer on the ground and retrieved a small aluminum tin from a pouch o her waist, then carefully smeared a large white skull over her face. “That’s better,” she confirmed to herself. The ritual pulled away some of the silliness of the scenario, and she managed to feel like she was about to go into battle. “Let’s do it.”
 
The tech lifted the tablet. “And… action.”
 
A furious expression crossed the bandit’s face and she bore her teeth. Her hulking framed flexed, and the sinew of her muscle was visible even beneath the heavy armor. She hefted her hammer up and twisted the throttle, a screaming roar filling the tiny tent. She bellowed out and swung it above her head, at which point the head coughed out a few plumes of flame from the exhaust before erupting into a massive explosion.
 
The green screen, the tent ceiling and several nearby tables were blasted away, and she was left standing in her pose, smoke streaming off of her armor, hair and body.
 
The tech stood in absolute silence, staring that the black ring around her. After a second, he patted out a small patch of flame that had started on his dress shirt, blinked, and said, “Yeah. That’ll do.”
 
“Sick!” the woman shouted. “Yeah, that felt good.” She looked around at the partially ripped up tent. “Uh… you need me to fix this?” she asked.
 
The tech shook his head, “No, we anticipate this. We have four more tents here with us.” He tapped the screen a few more times, “Alright, and you’re registration is complete. Just step into the rear of the tent behind that flap right there and we’ll teleport you all to the Danteverse!”
 
Caret gestured to the truck behind her. “What about my baby?”
 
“The truck?” the tech clarified.
 
She nodded. “Yeah, I don’t wanna just leave it parked out here. Who knows what could happen to it!”
 
The tech smiled. He hadn’t gotten to do this yet. “Oh, we’re prepared for that. If you all wouldn’t mind loading up?”

[Jak Mar]

Tangled Greens> Preshow

The eco-warrior bit his tongue, taking a deep breath before leaving and making his way toward the tangled greens DA sign-up station. Jak had a pulsing headache just minutes before due to his dark side being a asshole like always. He rubbed his head and mentioned through his com “Dax, if you hear this, Come and cheer me on. It will be good to have a few fans.”

The ottsel received the message suspicious, wondering if that last failed attempt to build a race track was just a scam. Daxter sighed and stood up, picking up his pack and left the elevator toward the tangled greens, packed to the brim with snacks, cash om from jak’s stash and other things.

The eco warrior moved his hands through the annoying mess of branches and palm trees in order to find a unenthusiastic da woman willing to take sign ups for this year’s Death matches.

The woman in fact looked bored as hell “You want to sign up for DA? She scanned the Wastelander over and blinked “Wait, you are “The Abyss’s hero right, Dynamite Kid right?”

Jak facepalmed, his reputation proceeds him. Just as Jak signed all the various paperwork and other things, A sweaty ottsel hopped up on Jak’s shoulder “JAK!”

Jak smirked “DAX!” It’s great to see you!

Dax fist bumped Jak and smiled back “Come on Jak, let’s show the whole world why we are the Dynamic Duo!”

After a double autograph later from DA’s own Dynamite kid, a flirting with the lady by Daxter, Jak and Daxter smirked and gave a calm look to the cameras with a simple gun holding behind Jak’s back and Daxter smirking.

Afterwards the lady pointed them toward the transporter and away they went.

[Amber Veritz]

http://omniverse-rpg.com/showthread.php?...n=lastpost I hope this is okay, I'm posting from Frozen Fields, just didn't see this topic until after.

[Cell]

Cell approached the tent. Since his battle with the Empire’s robot enforcer, he decided to keep a low profile while he continued to train. He had to hop a few islands before he felt far enough away from Costa del Sol, but one thing he couldn’t escape were the advertisements. Most of them he could ignore – after all, he didn’t need to wear clothes to impress that hot young thing lazing on the beach – but one tickled his interest. At first he ignored it, thinking it to be some exhibition fight put on by some Dante guy, but it was perseverent. Soon he actually paid attention to the ad and realised it was a tournament.
 
Such a prospect sent a chill down Cell’s spine. A tournament could be the perfect way to kick-start the final stage of his evolution, and even if it wasn’t, it would provide that heady sense of relief that only a good beat-down could deliver. Plus it seemed the event would be televised; a fantastic opportunity to make his name known throughout this Omniverse.
 
An attendant stood within the open flaps of the tent, cradling a tablet in one arm. A stylised ‘S’ was embroidered on the right side of his white buttoned shirt. He smiled as Cell walked towards him. Still unnerving to see a human grin at his approach.
 
“Good day, sir!” the attendant said, exuding none of the fear Cell had come to expect from his timid kind. “Are you here to sign up for Dante’s Abyss?”
 
“I’m not sure how many people peek in Syntech tents without the implied notion of joining your tournament, but yes, I am,” Cell said.
 
“Ah, good,” the man said, regrouping from the needlessly sarcastic remark. “Before we go any further, I will need to collect some personal information.”
 
Cell grinned. “Go ahead. My life is an open book.”
 
“Right! So, what is your name?”
 
“Cell.”
 
The attendant’s fingers were poised over the tablet’s screen. “Is that a nickname? Short for something?”
 
“What on Earth would it be short for? Celery?” The bio-android calmed down and smirked. “I’ll admit it’s not a common name. Maybe you would like me to spell it out? See-eee-ell-ell.”
 
The attendant smiled awkwardly as he tapped in the information. “Cell. Got it. And where do you come from, Cell?”
 
“I come from Earth,” he said. “Though if you want to be technical, the seeds of my existence are from all corners of the galaxy.” He sized up the human. “But let’s stick to the simple.”
 
The attendant frowned at the condescending tone. “Your occupation?”
 
“Being perfect,” Cell said almost on instinct. “I don’t work like you humans do. The closest thing I can think of is a professional fighter. But then I’ve only fought in a tournament named after myself, so that should tell you the extent of my skill.”
 
“And the size of your ego...” the Syntech staff member muttered under his breath.
 
Cell glowered. “I heard that.”
 
The attendant cleared his throat and suppressed an embarrassed smile. He tapped the tablet and a small hovering camera rose up to shoulder height, its lens on the bio-android. “OK, we just need to take a quick promo video and you can head off to the pre-show area of the tournament!”
 
“So what do you want from me?” Cell asked.
 
The attendant shrugged. “Say something cool, or show off, or whatever you like, really. They will show this footage to promote you.”
 
“Say no more. Roll the camera.”
 
“And we’re rolling,” the Syntech employee confirmed.
 
Cell brought his full power to the surface, coating his body in a flowing cloak of yellow light. The shockwave of the sudden jump in strength knocked the camera off kilter for a moment, but it recalibrated and stabilised.
 
“I’m Cell, the perfect life form and the perfect warrior,” he said, grinning all the while. “This isn’t even my final form and I’ll still wipe the floor with anyone who gets in my way!”
 
Once the attendant confirmed the information one last time to an exasperated Cell, he led the new contestant to the teleportation pad. The bio-android gave the human one last withering look and stepped onto the plate, vanishing from the balmy island tent.

[Skeletor]

Frozen Fields registration from Zul'gurand

Trollbridge outpaced Skeletor into the streets of Zul’gurand, and the Overlord of Evil was struck by how… plain the settlement seemed. The hide and leather tents were functional, and the bone aesthetic had a certain rustic charm, but the trolls were only a few steps above nomadic it seemed. Skeletor could not help but wonder whether it was even worth his time to gain their allegiance, so pathetic they seemed. Yet they had been able to keep the dwarves from claiming the Frozen fields for their own, and given what Skeletor had heard of the Dwarves organizational ability and battle prowess that implied there was something to them that he must be missing. Skeletor grabbed Trollbridge’s shoulder, turning the troll around to face him.

“Where is this Zul’jihn? I am running out of patience to meet your so-called leader!” Skeletor sneered.

“you can’t just walk in and talk to him, man!” the troll said with surprise, “you gadda prove yourself to da tribes! We gadda know you is trolly enough to meet the boss man before you can get in.”

Skeletor’s hollow sight bored into Trollbridge, but the Warlock said nothing. Trollbridge took a step back despite himself, half expecting the prime’s silent rage to soon be heading his direction. Thankfully for him Skeletor’s attention was drawn to a hawker from down the street. It seemed that Syntech’s newest murderfest was on the lookout for new lambs. The grinning skull glanced back at Trollbridge.

“I must prove myself, hmmm?” Skeletor asked, and without another word strode over to the Syntech booth.

“Well! You look like a strapping young deathlord if every I’ve seen one!” said the harker, a goblin in a tailored suit and bowtie. Skeletor looked at the goblin, balanced expertly on his stool to put him at eye level.

“What is this abyss you are speaking of?” Skeletor asked with crossed arms, so far unimpressed with the Syntech barker.

“What is Dante’s Abyss? Where have you been my guy! Its only the most awe-inspiring action in all of the Omniverse! Are you a prime or secondary? We let ‘em both in you know, but we aren’t responsible for any permadeaths that might result…”

“I am Skeletor Overlord of Eternia. Even trapped within this prison world I am most definitely not some pathetic secondary.”

“Sure thing boyo, rightily right!” responded the goblin chipperly enough, “Do you think you got what it takes to win the tournament?”

“No one could be foolish enough to dare oppose me.” Skeletor glowered, becoming irritated with the goblin more and more by the passing second.

“What faction you are representing?”

“I follow no orders!” came Skeletor’s harsh reply, “Though I will allow Zul’jhin to claim to be a beneficiary of my victory if he is wise enough to ask.”

“ehr… right. Syntech is not responsible for an Physical, Social, mental or emotional damage that you may experience while participating in Dante’s Abyss. Furthermore you acknowledge that undue destruction of Syntech property or personnel will be cause for eviction from the event and depending on severity may require you to pay a fine of OM from your personal store. If there’s no problems go ahead and put your handprint onto this scanner for a signature.”

“Alrighty, Alright!” the goblin shouted happily after skeletor had done so, “Step on over to the lady in the blue wig and she’ll do your event processing.”

Skeletor was truly baffled by the blue tentacle-like wig that the otherwise very normal woman sported as he approached her camera booth.

“Alright sugah, gimme your best world conquer pose. You look like one of them megalomaniac types.”

“YOU DARE?” Skeletor seethed, his fir-trimmed cloak billowing out behind him as he mustered eldritch power into the Havoc staff. A bulb flashed, disorienting him as he prepared for a surprise assault.

“puifect.” The lady said, then pressed a button. Cables zipped out and latched onto Skeletor from several directions. The overlord twisted, attempting to pry the diodes loose but they clung to his muscular form with an unnerving strength.

“What treachery is this?” the warlock cried in alarm, thrashing amidst the cables without success.

“Relax, We just need to take your vitals, pal.” The woman spoke, still entirely unimpressed. Another flick of a switch and the cables retracted. The woman pulled up his diagnostic and gave a low whistle.

“Your blood pressure is through the roof guy, you gotta watch that kinda stuff. Give you a heart attack.”

“I’ll give you far more than a heart attack if you don’t…” Skeletor’s ranting was cut short as another switch began to the teleportation sequence.

“give Karl a kiss fer me, Sugah.” The woman said, and Skeletor found himself in Syntech’s facility.

[Ash]

Where ever Ash goes, she generates several different looks and reactions from those around her. Obviously when one has horns and a tail, the natural reaction by society is to look upon them with deep suspicion out just outright hate. Her whole young adult life she was often singled out for things that had gone ary around her. Often, whether she did it or not, she was accused of being responsible for the heinous crimes against the people - so on and so on. It should not surprise anyone that she was. What may confuse people, was how often she was not the cause but took the blame anyways.

She wasn’t above lying, and rarely did the guilty party ever get away scott free. It was all calculated risks that left her with favors and less time spent in the soul crushing safety of four solid walls while bound to a desk. This didn’t help her reputation at all and people thought of her as a trouble maker. She was perhaps too clever for her own good. Then again, who’s to say she’d end up any different if she’d stayed in school like a good girl?

He mother sure thought she would, but that’s another story for another time.

As contradicting as it seemed, she didn’t just attract discord. Despite her ability to rock a pair of combat boots and cuss like the best of them, she manages her sex life well enough. Not afraid to be called a whore or any other derogatory label that others see fit to slap across her name, Ash has never shied away from the subject of sex. At the same time, she liked to keep her business her own. Of course this was easier in high school when all you had to do was keep your mouth shut around people.

The Storm Demon hasn’t always been hyper sexual, and still held some control. She just cared less about hiding her desires and reactions. However, she knew how to hide her crazy and act like a lady when it came to it. Well, as lady like as she could be while wearing a mini skirt.

Still the jaws dropped for one reason or the other as Sand Hawk lead the female demon through the city. Wearing nothing but the man’s shirt and some scraps of a gold beaded bikini. Her escort was not aware of the looks she got, nor the looks she gave back. He was a man on a mission.

The mission? Simple! Help Ash with her lack of clothing! Demon or not, she was female and shouldn’t be showing that much skin! Erik thought so, too. That is why he entrusted him with this task while he took care of another personnel request made by Victor! It was his job to help their damsel in distress out one final time! Then perhaps a tour of the city!

He turned to offer his hand while they walked through a busy part of town, only to be met with empty space where his demon company should have stood! He throws his hands up in the air and against his head! “No! I’ve lost her!” He groaned before heading back in the direction he came from!

-

Ash found her way to an overly large storm cloud dark grey tent. Upon the front, it clearly labeled itself as Syntech property. Immediately the words struck her as something important but it took a handsome male coming over to her and asking her a questioned to realize what was going on here.

“Hi there, were you looking to join this year’s Dante Abyss, miss?” He asked with a sweet smile.

Memories of last year flooded Ash’s mind, a flip book of the people she’d seen last year. She remembered watching countless people fight it out on island sections, chasing after item drops and trying to combine pieces of artefacts together to be able to use them effectively. That’s one of the reasons why Higgs had stood out so easily to her. Also, he was attractive and one of the favorites to win that year.

Over the next year, she’d find every turn towards Higgs met with walls in front of solid walls. She ended up in the Underverse and even though she escaped easily enough she was left still empty-handed because he had gone missing while she was fighting for the championship.

You would think that after all that she’d be sick of fighting and wouldn’t even entertain the idea of doing more combat, yet, here she is considering the idea of joining. She was considering just walking away, shaking her head, and leaving it at that. However, considering all the trouble she’d spent and only got to meet two people on her list, she thought twice again about that…

If she entered she’d be more than likely to make contact with anyone of interest to her or her plans a lot faster than if she waited until the event was over and its contestants scattered to the wind where she’d have to track them down. On top of that, the app works better if she is in the presence physically other than just watching them on TV.

“Yes.” She said, finally coming to terms with what she wanted to do.

“Great. This way miss, we’d like to make sure you are in fighting-fit form first.” The man said, opening the rope up and letting her inside. She still was just in the shirt and sandals and didn’t look battle ready in the least. “We’ll check your vitals, and then we’d like to fill out some forms and get a few glam shots.” He said, not ignoring the irony of that statement when she looked like she was homeless. Smelt like it, too.

A woman was working on a tablet in the corner when she heard the new contestant entering. All around them Nippur was still alive and well, sounds of the city beginning anew drowned out most of the smaller noises in the tent. She smiled up at the demoness and offered her to sit down where she’d be comfortable with a hand motion.

Ash looked over at a typical medical bench. The type that has a flimsy roll of parchment paper to ‘protect’ the surface. She could already tell this wouldn’t be the least bit comfortable for her, but she took a seat. The paper crumpled under even her lightest of weights, she then crossed her leg and looked up.

“Please don’t cross your legs, it affects your blood pressure.” She addressed the patient. When Ash unfolded her legs she smiled and nodded. “Let's start these questions why Donald checks your vitals.” There was a moment where Ash was expected to nod and say yes before the woman continued. “Name, please?”

“Ash.”

“Last name?” Her hair was dirty blond and she smiled hard enough to cause wrinkles everywhere.

“I don’t have one.”

“Any aliases?”

“The Storm Demon,” Ash explained.

The woman typed some stuff on her tablet. “Race? Species?”

“Morality Mirrored Humanoid. I was born a human.”

“How did you end up…” Her eyes went up to Ash’s horns. Her tablet stylus motioned towards them.

“I have a lot of magic in my blood, and the negativity in my life influenced it so that I ended up looking like a demon.”

There was a bit of silence. That was strange.

“Okay, then how old are you?” The blond asked.

“Twenty-three or something like that? I stopped caring at twenty-one.”

“Why’s that?”

“It's the drinking age from the world I was from. After that, the only  year worht celebrating is retirement.”

“What brought you here to Dante’s Abyss?” She asked, going right into the questions.

“I am a fan of friends. This is a good way to meet new people.” Ash replied, innocent enough.

“Do you live here in Nippur?”

“No. I just arrived.” Ash replied quickly.

“Has anything interesting happened upon your arrival?” She asked.

Ash’s mind raced back to just a half hour ago when she sling-shotted a lizard over 300 feet away. “Not really.” She lied.

“Are you associated with any groups?” The blond asked another question.

“No,” Ash said honestly, not aware of her lie.

“What would you say is your most accomplishing moment in The Omniverse?”

Ash, who has been fairly fast with all these answers had to stop and think about that. Personal accomplishments included stealing the chainsword from that Ultramarine, managing to find something useful here that pertained to her own life and leaving Desman back in The Underverse. Proud accomplishments that would impress crowds? Since Coruscant seemed unphased by it, maybe the rest of the world wouldn’t be all that impressed. “I escaped the Underverse just a few days ago.” She made sure to say it with as much boredom as possible. So it was impossible for the blonde woman to be sure if she was serious or not.

There was an awkward silence between answer and questions before the woman found her footing again. “A-Anyone you want to invite to come to Dante’s Abyss and fight you?”

Ash smiled at that. She wished she could challenge Brother Gaius… “No, but if I could give a shout out to my buddy Jaixe.”

“Of course.” The woman promises and then jots down some more notes. She’s done this the whole time. Just as the whole time the man has been checking her pulse, heartbeat, breathing… If he wanted to do a stamina test Ash would have been happy to oblige.

“Now as per usual rules, any destruction to Syntech’s property or attacks on staff members can result in your disqualification. Do you accept these and the other terms that come with participating in Dante’s Abyss?”

“Yes.”

“Can you sign here?”

Ash was handed a contract and offered a pen. Ash declined the pen to pull out her dagger from among the shirt-dress she wore. Her signature was blunt and bold, and the ink produced by the pen was blood red. Mostly because it was in fact blood. She offered the contract back and hid away her blade.

“Thank you.” The woman was put off a bit by the strangeness, but the discovery of the type of ink the pen produced has yet come to her. “Now if you would please step over here, we’d like to do a little filming.

“Of?” Ash asked, but didn’t seem bothered by it.

“We’d like you to do a few poses, will do some voice-overs and any other fancy editing techniques that feel appropriate. It will be like an introduction card, but personalized.” She motioned to the spot and took her place behind the camera. “Can you say the name you’d like us to use?” She asked after preparing the camera to capture it.

Ash smiled sweetly into the camera, “The Storm Demon.”

“And are there any signature poses for your powers?” The blond asked.

The Storm Demon had to think about that. “No, Not really. But I can do some poses.” She suggested, and the blonde agreed. She did four. One she held her arms out as wide as possible and then acted as if she was charging up her Thunder Clap. She motioned through, slapping her hands together, but as anticipated as it was from behind the camera, it came off as a normal slap of her palms. She then took a serious stance, reaching both hands between her legs and twisting them dramatically as if she were charging her Chain Lightning. She pulled her dagger out and bent low, posing in an atypical edgy kind of pose, letting the camera capture her serious face as the morality mirrored humanoid branded the creepy Red Devil’s Quil. And finally she decided to blow the camera a kiss and wave, in a cute girly kind of way that might not be expected from her.

“Perfect.” The blond said, then shut down the equipment and lead the demoness over to the pad. “Just step on this, and you will be transported to the Dante’s Abyss facility where you are able to prepare for the fights ahead in your own way. And thank you for using Syntech Teleportal Pads courtesy of Karl Jak.”

Ash started to walk right on in but stopped to look back at her. “Oh, Karl.. Will I get to meet him?” Her tail coiled in excitement.

“Anything is possible in Dante’s Abyss, however, I cannot make any promises.” She said, as professionally as possible.

Ash nodded and walked on through.

[Shantotto]

The small mage led Serraph and the Emperor of Mankind as he so loved to call himself, towards the remains of the irrigation plant, passing by several people who seemed interested in running towards a tent that the small mage had neglected to look at prior or at least had not cared about. “Registration is open!” The tarutaru heard a small girl exclaim as she ran through the ruined streets of Nippur with several of her friends all seemingly carefree.


“Hmm..” The brown nosed mage said as she looked at the tent in the distance. “I think that something causing such a stir, is worth taking a look at and judging its not part of a slur.” She said, even though it was clear Curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Serraph nodded his head at the small woman, he seemed to be interested too but he stayed quiet. Seeming to knowing exactly what was going on.

“The irrigation plant is just down this road, I trust you will turn it into a worthy abode?” Shantotto said to the emperor of mankind and his floating chair. The time they had spent together had been short and albeit no longer than shantotto felt comfortable with.

She didn't wait for the chair’s synthesized reply as she grabbed Serraphs hand and dashed towards the tent with an almost childlike glee.

There was a line forming around the Tent, people wanting to join, others looking at what and who were lining up to partake in the blood bath.

“If i may be so bold as to ask, What is the nature of this task?” The petite woman asked gazing up at those in line. Brutish warriors, people with oddly shaped guns seemed intermingled with them.

“This is Dante’s Abyss! A spectacle of blood and might, Glory and backstabbing!” A place where people go to test their might!” one of the burly men replied, a long sword adorned his back as he pushed forward into the line.

“I have a feeling stirring in my loin… I feel I must partake and join.” She said as a cocky grin filled her face.

Standing in line behind the burly men Shantotto awaited her turn to sign up, albeit impatiently. Her booted feet tapped almost nonstop the entire time she stood in line, finally reaching an individual wearing a strange uniform with a logo called “Syntec” The short haired woman seemed almost bored of her job.

“Next?” She called out.

“Here I am, not quite a sham.” Shantotto replied.
“Who said that?” the woman called out, looking directly at Serraph with a questioning gaze.

“Down here.” Shantotto replied with irritation in her voice already.

The woman looked down and saw the blond haired brown nosed mage, with her Stardust rod resting upon her back.

“I take it you are here to sign up for this year’s Dantes Abyss?” The woman asked with a monotone voice.

“I am indeed, A show of force is just what I need.” Shantotto replied.

“Okay, I can do without the rhyming theatrics thank you maam.” The woman said

Shantotto winced at the jab at her way of speaking, looking out of the corner of her eye spotting one of the guardsmen entering a metallic pod. “He was at the palace” Shantotto thought silently to herself, The man was quickly followed by a woman with blue flesh, long horns and a tail. She was dressed provocatively.

The Syntech employee looked at shantotto as if assessing her abilities in combat with a scrutinizing eye. “Dante’s Abyss is a combat event where people may be killed, maimed, otherwise damaged. This is an obligatory disclaimer waiving Syntec of all liability in the event of your death, dismemberment or mental degradation. By signing this disclaimer you waive the right to press charges against Syntec.” The woman offered a tablet for shantotto to place her signature.

Shantotto grabbed the clipboard from the desk situated in front of her, standing on her tip toes in order to reach the tablet. Gripping it in her hands she withdrew her journal from her robe, removing the quill from it and dipping it in her inkwell. The syntech employee looked irritated at the amount of time the Tarutaru was taking to sign the simple disclaimer.

Shantotto handed it back up to the woman who looked around for a second. “Can I get a booster seat or high chair for this one?” A sea of laughter filled the air from everyone left in the line behind her, everyone but Serraph, who seemed to cast a dirty look at the woman.

A stool was indeed pulled out from one of the offices however and planted in front of the desk to which Shantotto forced herself to sit in it.

The employee continued her obligation to Syntec and began to sleep once more. “You are to receive a single solitary warning any actions that injure or destroy Syntech property or personnel will result in the disqualification from Dante's Abyss. If you would be so kind as to sign here and here.

Shantotto used her special quill to sign the paperwork before handing it over once more.

“Very good, now I need your name, your full name.” The woman said “and any applicable titles”

“Doctor Belle Shantotto, s h a n t o t t o.” The mage replied taking careful consideration to spell out the word carefully to the woman.

“Got it….. prime or secondary?”

“Prime” shantotto replied quickly.

“Occupation or job?” the Syntec woman asked as she kept writing down Shantotto's answers on a sheet of paper, there was the sound of clicking and clacking as a second Syntech employee. Inputting the information into a computer.

“ Mage of the highest order, black mage.” The mage replied with confidence

“Mhm, and where is your place of residence, or where you prefer to hang your head? A Hobbit hole mayhaps?” A small chuckle came out from the crowd only to be silenced once again by an angry glare from Serraph.

“Nowhere as of yet, I became a prime but a few days ago, prior to that, I knew naught of this or any chime..”

“What did I tell you about that rhyming nonsense?” The woman said issuing a warning to Shantotto who glared with hatred at the woman.

“Race?”

“Tarutaru”

“Gender?”

“One look at me is all you need to see.” Shantotto replied. “Gender?” tyhe woman asked again, more insistantly this time.

“Female”

“Associated faction?”

“New Babylon” The mage replied curtly.

“Have you been made aware that Syntech is in no way responsible for both physical and mental harm this competition may or may not cause?”

“Yes” Shantotto replied issuing a single word reply only to get through this registration and into the real festivities.

“And have you been made aware that any actions that injure or destroy Syntech property or personnel will result in the disqualification from Dante's Abyss.”

“Yes” Shantotto replied quickly.

“Very good, now you may opt out of this however we like to have a little information about each contestant, A small video will be taken, once again purely optional though given someone of your stature I’m sure you won't mind opting out.” The Syntech employees snickered at the comment.

Shantotto of course brushed it off. “Nonsense my dear, A great deal about me you shall hear.” Shantotto said with a defiant laugh “ohohohohoh”

“Very well please step into one of the offices behind me and thank you for your time in registering for this years Dante’s Abyss”

Shantotto glanced behind her as she got off the stupid stool and gazed at Serraph who gave her a nod of approval before she stepped out behind the curtains making up the makeshift offices.

A third Syntech employee looked at shantotto and groaned as he adjusted his camera to capture the small frame of the black mage who stood before him.

“Give me a pose and say something…. Anything…. Let's just get this over with?” The man was practically begging to go home, was it because of the heat? Shantotto had an idea but she kept quiet until the camera started rolling.

“Ohohohohoh” She began with her classic laugh using one hand to hold her chin as she threw her head back and laughed.

“Next try for something a little more menacing.”

Shantotto replied in kind by simply glaring at the camera and conjuring a ball of flame then switching it out for a ball of lightning.

“Okay, I think that covers it. Please step on the pad to your left and watch your first step.

Shantotto complied with the directions setting foot onto the metallic pad as a burst of light and energy took her away.

[PepsiWhirda]

Shadow within shadow, the hooded and cloaked figure flitted across the thatched rooftops on the outskirts of Costa Del Sol, each padded footstep producing no more noise than a breath of wind.  The night hung low over the Vasty Deep’s capital city.  Swollen clouds obscured the pale light of the moon, entrenching every nook and cranny of the city in concealing gloom.  Miles away, the broad underbelly of an encroaching storm rippled with skeins of lightning.

This far out from the city proper, the outskirts were little more than a disorganized sea of island bungalows, row after jumbled row of squat buildings with roofs of thatched straw and palm fronds, interspersed with the looming silhouettes and rolling, manicured lawns of the lesser plantation houses.  The cloaked woman made swift progress toward her destination, occasionally vanishing when the gap between buildings proved too wide, only to reappear on the other side without breaking stride.

Gradually, the colonial clock towers and wide, brightly-lit avenues of Costa Del Sol’s party district came into view.  As if in defiance of the looming storm, throngs of dancing islanders crowded in close as a procession of jugglers and acrobats, arrayed in the bright reds and yellows of circus folk, made their way down the road.  Trying and failing to keep a low profile, city guards pressed through the gathered crowd and peered down from rooftops, searching for troublemakers.

Whirda Windstrom recognized her dilemma.  Drawing her cowl tight around her face, she selected a perch in one of the many recesses of a soaring clock tower.  An expertly carved statue of a gargoyle leered at her from across the avenue, occupying the recess, but Whirda could see there was room to spare for her hiding place.

A moment later, she rested a hand on the gnarled stone of the gargoyle’s head, content to wait.  Ensconced in shadow, she knew any onlookers who happened to glance at the clock tower would not catch sight of her.  Whirda had no way of knowing if the murder of Captain Deudermont and Tia Dalma had been noted by Costa Del Sol authorities, and while she knew the odds of anyone identifying her as the perpetrator of the crime were slim at best, she could afford to take no chances.  The last thing she needed was to spend the duration of Dante’s Abyss in a cell in the sunken prison of Impel Down.

For the first few days, thinking back on the sturdy masts of Blackbeard’s ship slowly sinking beneath the horizon, Whirda had experienced profound grief.  In the thrall of the contagion—the thrall of that other Whirda with whom she had grown so familiar—she had struck down her only friends in a merciless, unthinking rage.  The contagion did not relent.  In time, her grief subsided first into frequent pangs, then occasional twinges of regret.  Now, Whirda felt nothing.  For the first time since her ill-fated battle with Ahn’Thrix, she had been fully subsumed by the shade’s contagion. 

Since arriving on the vast island, Whirda had made her camp in the thick jungles outside the city, venturing into Costa Del Sol only under cover of darkness.  On the fifth day, she noted the newly erected white tents bearing the logo of Syntech, the organization she had come to learn was hosting Dante’s Abyss. In the back of her mind she questioned her resolve.  For the first half of the journey from Tia Dalma’s island to the capital city, she had viewed Dante’s Abyss as the final bastion of her salvation.  Now she was conflicted.  Did she even desire salvation anymore?

“No.”  The word emerged unbidden from between her lips, a quiet, rasping hiss.

“Then why?” Whirda asked, the lilting harmony of her voice returning.

“Why?” her sinister alter-ego mocked.  “Why do you do anything?  For power.”

That word—power—commanded a certain resonance in Whirda’s life now.  The other Whirda, that part of her that had been broken and subdued by the vile contagion, wielded the nebulous notion of power as a litany against her self-doubt, a vague promise of some intangible reward for the callous betrayal of her principles.  While she sensed the fallacy at the heart of the promise, these days she found herself, unable to resist the urges instilled in her by her vile plague.  Slowly, the insidious contagion had wormed its way in, eroding her mental defenses and taking root in the inner depths of her mind.  

Whirda Windstrom had become its slave.

For many long minutes, Whirda busied herself counting the number of guards present at the celebration.  She noted the patrol routes, identifying weaknesses she could exploit, brief windows of time during which she could traverse the last few blocks to the Syntech tent unseen.  Then, with a nod to affirm the accuracy of her calculations, she stepped out of the recess, patted the gargoyle’s head for good luck, and vanished once more.

When she reappeared on the cobblestone street below, Whirda broke into a quick stride.  She had no time to pause and take in the spectacle of the procession of entertainers.  Keeping against the outer wall of the clock tower so the guards above could not see her, she traveled briskly down the sidewalk, slipping nimbly between gyrating spectators and barking vendors, silently counting the passing seconds.  Across the avenue, on top of a long, flat building, the top of a guard’s head came into view.  Knowing that meant the guards above her were moving away, toward the other side of the clock tower’s roof, Whirda enacted another shadowstep to carry her, unseen, across the road.

On she went for several minutes down the impossibly long avenue, meticulously escaping the notice of the many guards.  The sights, sounds, and smells of the party district might have enticed a lesser warrior into distraction and ruin, but Whirda remained focused and calm.  She ducked beneath the outstretched arm of a vendor hawking a dripping kebab, deftly twisting to avoid a single droplet of grease.  Slipping between two scantily clad, dancing women smeared in bright body paint, she looked up to see the Syntech tent ten yards ahead.  Three bored looking employees in crisp uniforms, two women and a man, sat behind a long, white table and conversed idly.

When Whirda appeared from thin air in front of the table, three chairs rocked backward, spilling the surprised Syntech employees to the ground.  Taking care to keep her cowl drawn tight, Whirda spoke.

“My apologies,” she said quietly, taking care not to allow the rattling hiss of her alter ego into her voice.  “Is this where I volunteer for Dante’s Abyss?”

One of the women recovered first, hopping to her feet and brushing dust from her once-pristine uniform.  “Uh, yes, it is,” she said slowly.  “You are a Prime?”  The other two Syntech employees rose to stand behind her, eyeing Whirda warily. 

“I am.”

The girl coughed, more a nervous gesture than an irritation of the throat, Whirda sensed.  “Uh, okay then.  Well, all we need to do is film you telling us a little bit about yourself and showing off your moves.”

“Film me?” Whirda asked, genuinely confused.  Behind the girl, the male employee scoffed and rolled his eyes.  Whirda curled her toes to keep from lashing out, but she could not keep the other Whirda from lashing out.  “Take care boy, or I’ll rip those eyes from your skull, that you might see yourself die from my perspective.  I assure you, it is not a disappointing show.”

An involuntary squeak emerged from the man, but he regained his composure quickly.  This was clearly not his first encounter with an irritable Prime.  “I must remind you, miss,” he said, only a slight waver in his voice, “that violence against Syntech employees disqualifies you from participation in the event.”

Whirda ground her teeth but did not reply, merely fixing the man with an icy stare.  

Attempting to reduce the tension of the situation, the second girl said, “Miss, we just need you to stand right here.”  She gestured to a wide rectangle drawn on the floor of the tent in white chalk in front of a bizarre looking device.  It reminded Whirda of the whirring and clicking technology from which her old friend Blues had been crafted.  

Bemused and more than a little nostalgic, Whirda stepped into the outlined space.  

“Now,” the second girl said with an uneasy smile, “can you tell us a little bit about yourself and where you come from?”

“I am Whirda Windstrom.  I hail from Luskan, in the realm of Faerûn.  It has been six years since I answered Omni’s call.”  She lapsed into silence, unwilling to offer any more potentially incriminating information.  

“All right then, Whirda Windstrom,” the first girl said.  “Now, would you please demonstrate your abilities?”

“Here?” Whirda blurted.  “That would be… unwise.”

“Trust me,” the man said, though he did not approach from his defensive position behind the table to Whirda’s right.  “We’ve seen worse.”

Whirda felt a surge of vile energy welling up inside her.  Like hot bile rising in her throat, she fought to keep it down.  Let… me… out, the other Whirda said inside her head.  Let me teach this one a lesson.  Unable to resist the urges of her savage alter ego, Whirda relented.  When she addressed the man, the rasping hiss had returned to her voice.

“Have you?” Whirda asked innocently?

The man, apparently hearing the shift in timbre, offered only a nervous nod.

“Come here.”

The man did not move.  “I must remind you, miss,” he intoned dully, again reciting the rehearsed line, “that violence against Syntech employees disqualifies you from participation in the event.”

“I will not hurt you,” Whirda rasped.  “You have my word.”

The man rose and approached the plagued woman cautiously, pausing just outside the chalk boundary.  His hands visibly trembled, but to his credit he stood fast and searched for Whirda’s eyes within the depths of her drawn cowl.  

Whirda turned to stare into the lens of the strange device.  “You ask me for a demonstration?” she said.  “Then you shall have one.”

All around her, the air shimmered as she set the leylines of latent umbral magic to thrumming, drawing their collective power into her.  The transformation into her umbral form came quicker this time, the veins in her arms and neck and the sclera of her eyes flooding with black.  

The gathered energy surged, coursing over her like a wave.  The greedy dagger sheathed on her hip leaked a cloud of opaque ash and an aura of utter darkness rose around her, coalescing into a swarm of wriggling serpents.  Reaching up with both dusky hands, Whirda drew back her cowl.  In that moment, her eyes were not the eyes of Whirda Windstrom but the eyes of the shade Ahn’Thrix, burning with an incandescent, electric blue energy like two smoldering coals set deep in her skull.  

Staring into those wicked eyes, the man knew despair.  His mouth creased open in a shrill scream as he backed away, stumbling over a fallen chair and landing hard on the cobblestones.  He scrambled to his feet, turned, and sprinted from the tent. 

The two remaining employees stared at Whirda with blank expressions, their jaws hanging open.  Gradually, Whirda reverted to her normal form and turned to stare at the device that was ‘filming’ her once more.  “Satisfied?” she asked, the rasping receding from her voice.

One of the Syntech employees managed a nod.  “That… that will do,” she stammered.  “Now, if you’ll just follow me.”  Without turning to see if Whirda followed, she strode from the main room of the tent into a second, smaller room Whirda had not noticed.  Following the girl inside, Whirda saw a metal pad on the floor.  Three rings formed a bullseye in its center.  

“When you step on the pad, you will be transported to Dante’s Abyss,” the girl said.  She tried admirably to remain professional, but Whirda saw, with no small measure of satisfaction, that the girl had been shaken by her display.  “Happy hunting.”

“Thank you,” Whirda said curtly.  Needing to maintain the image of strength she had imparted to the Syntech employees, she did not hesitate in the face of the newest technological marvel she now faced.  

Just as the first fat raindrops began pelting the roof of the tent, Whirda stepped onto the pad and vanished.  

[Ricter]

Ricter was still new to the whole fighting arena thing, mostly because he never fought in a tournament style battle before, if anything he was the person who did the healing on the side, when all the contestants wanted to be patched up. But in this case he wasn’t hired for this, probably because he was so unknown that he didn’t seem to matter much. So for now he would simply make his way towards the registration stands, which seemed to be set up by tents as rows of people were already getting ready to sign up.

Hopefully this wouldn’t be too hard, if anything he hoped it would go well over all as he didn’t really have an idea in mind for the tourney, he just wanted too participate in it and see what he’d get to experience. Seeing the metal pad as the syntech employee would direct him what to do he would answer the questions as they came, mostly about himself as you could guess.

“Dr. Casenger, your 122 years old yes?”
“Uh at least I should be, this realm sucked me in on my birthday actually.”

“How unfortunate, hmm as for your vitals you seems to be quit healthy.”
“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a complement” They would say to the weasel.
“Aww…” He’d pout, giving a sad expression, playfully of course.

“Now for a quick bio, you’re a mustelid correct?”
“Yes.”

“Magic is something you wield?”
“Mhm”

“Hm, I believe that's all for now, you should get situated at the desk, they will ensure you have everything you need there.”

They would direct him as he nodded, being given a map of what places he can go too, what services they had and also what he could actually do while waiting he would need to do some small paper work before he’d actually be fully in. But he’d take care of that soon enough as he had nothing better to do at the moment.

[Ahana Varma]

I open bleary eyes, then reach up and rub them, finding myself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling and listening to a hubbub of low chatter, along with an undercurrent of what sound like pained moans. I have no clue where I am.

“Ah, you’re awake. Feeling any better?” I turn to my left to see none other than the Golden King—now once more clad in his full set of armour—sitting by my bedside. Suddenly, my memories all come rushing back and I sit bolt upright, then bring my legs up under me, so that I'm in a sort of kneeling position, and bow down to him, my fists clenching as I’m overcome with guilt and self-loathing.

“I’m sorry! My king, I- I failed you… I’m so-”

“Enough.” I cease instantly at his casually uttered command, and not just speaking; I quit moving as well, my every muscle held rigidly in place, without so much as a twitch, and I even hold my breath as I wait a few seconds for him to speak again, to condemn me for my inadequacy, “You did all that you were able to. I could ask no more of any of my subjects. You did well, Ahana… now, quit bowing and answer my question; how are you feeling?”

Rising to face the god-king of Nippur—the awfulness I feel for having failed him now mingling strangely with my joy at having been given this (undeserved) praise—I look down at myself, inspecting my body for injuries, and noticing the lack of any gashes or bruises marring my skin… in fact, I don’t even have so much as a paper cut. Something else snatches my amy eye, though; in place of my usual outfit, I’m now clad in nothing but a simple, short-sleeved cotton shift, the bottom of which reaches barely halfway down my thighs.

“I’m… eh… fine, my king. I’m not hurt at all… somehow… but… um… what am I wearing?” I shift awkwardly, plucking at the thin fabric with the thumb and index finger of my right hand.

“That?” he shrugs, “Just a hospital gown. The nurse had to remove your own clothes to properly clean and treat all of your wounds… or she thought she did at the time, at least, though it seems that you heal quite quickly, even for a Prime, so in hindsight I guess it may not actually have been necessary.”

I don’t have a clue what he means about me healing faster than other people, since I’m sure I couldn’t ever do that back in my own world, but I’m not exactly able to focus on that right now. Instead I blush furiously and struggle to meet his gaze, “Oh… uh… my king, you didn’t, er… I mean, you weren't- when she…”

“Did I look? No, of course not, what sort of pervert do you take me for?” by his smirk and the levity of his tone, I can tell he’s enjoying seeing me all flustered like this, and isn’t actually offended by that inadvertent implication of mine, so I don’t feel the same need to offer my most profuse apologies that I would were he actually irritated. Instead, I simply cough awkwardly and look down in embarrassment. I'm relieved to get that response from him; I can hardly imagine I must have looked particularly appealing after being beaten as badly as I was, so I appreciate him keeping his eyes to himself.

A few moments pass in silence, and even without turning back his way, I’m acutely aware of his eyes on me. The awkwardness ends at last when a couple men—dressed all in white, in shirts, trousers, and flat-soled shoes, each with a little, golden cross pinned on their left breast—whom I assume must be two of these ‘nurses’ which the god-king mentioned, rush over to stand by my bedside, and the foremost one begins to speak, his nervousness in the king’s presence clearly apparent, “I apologise, King Gilgamesh, but we’re rather full today and, ah, as your companion seems to be more or less recovered… well… might it be possible for us to use this bed for someone… uh, more in need?”

Both the god-king and I look at what the pair are carrying between them; a stretcher upon which lies a moaning, whimpering man, his right elbow bent back at an unnatural angle, a thin sliver of bone jutting out from torn skin… along with a whole lot of blood.

“You think you can stand?” Gilgamesh gets to his feet and turns to me, much more serious now.

“Of course.” mimicking his attitude, I quickly hop off the bed. Personally, I don’t really give a damn about some random injured guy, but I know that the king cares about his people… and besides, it’s not like I have any reason to want to stay in bed anyway.

We watch the man being gently moved from stretcher to his bed in silence, then the god-king speaks up once again, “Well, we’ll only be getting in everyone’s way if we continue loitering around here, so you head off down that way, get your clothes back and get changed, then we can meet up again outside, alright?” he gestures further down the room, past the bed I’d lain on, when telling me where to go, then cocks his head slightly in the opposite direction to indicate the way out, as he mentions that.

“Of course, my king.” I answer brightly, unable to keep from smiling even though I do genuinely try my best to keep up that serious, professional demeanour. I wasn’t even sure that he would want to keep me in his service at all after my dismal performance in that bandit raid, much less ever work alongside me again personally. I’m overcome with gratitude at his generosity, and immediately begin to sink down into a kneeling position.

I freeze, then hurriedly straighten up, a deep blush colouring my cheeks as I realise just how much this short dress will show off if I actually do drop to one knee. Instead, I simply sketch a quick bow in his direction and avoid making eye contact. He doesn’t comment on this, but I spot a small smirk on his face as he turns to go, and have a sudden desire to bury my head in the sand and try to forget that that ever happened.

Since that isn't really an option, though, I head off to my left—the way the god-king indicated for me to go—and try to avoid looking at any of the staff or patients as I walk between the row of beds to either side of me… not wanting to meet the gaze of anyone who might have noticed the close call I had there.

At the end of the hall there are a few different rooms, though it’s hard to get lost; the one marked ‘laundry’ is obviously what I’m looking for. Heading in, I see several rumbling, metal boxes, with little glass panes in their fronts, which show clothes and sheets spinning around within… presumably these fabrics are being washed in some way, though whatever magic they use for such tasks here in Nippur is clearly far different to what I’m used to from home.

On one side of the room, beside a large basket filled with blood-stained garments, stands a young woman in a short, white dress, though hers is much tighter than the loose shift that they’ve given me, and shows off her figure nicely. Like the male nurses, she also wears one of those golden pins. She seems to be just standing around waiting, perhaps on one of the cleaning boxes finishing its load, so that she can put on another.

Looking to the left, I notice a row of shelves with already-washed articles of clothing neatly folded and stacked upon them. I scan them briefly, looking for my-

“There.” I glance back at her, then follow the nurse’s pointing finger and spot my things.

“You remembered me?” I ask, mildly surprised, as I walk over and pick them up, before looking back across at her.

“Well, it’s not every day we meet someone with animal ears, even here in the Omniverse… and besides, from what I hear, you were carried into the hospital by the king himself... it’s not like anyone’s going to forget that in a hurry.”

“He carried me here?” I knew I must have lost consciousness at some point, of course, but I had imagined I was probably just brought in on a stretcher like that guy with the broken arm, by some generic orderly or perhaps a couple guards or other random citizens that the king might have called upon to aid him… just thinking that he himself had done such a thing for me fills me with gratitude… though more than a little shame as well. How demeaning it must have been for a divine being such as he to have had to help a mere peasant such as myself. I feel bad for getting hurt severely enough that I would put a burden like that onto him. I must do better.

“Bridal style.” the woman grins at my discomfort, “Oh, and for what it’s worth, he was also bare-chested when he walked in here.”

“Mmm...” I bite my lip with enough force to hurt even in spite of my Protections, trying not to lose myself in any inappropriate daydreams. The nurse laughs, though, clearly having no trouble deducing the thoughts going through my head, “Ah...! I’d, uh, I'd better go get dressed.”

She laughs again, then gestures to a doorway in the far left corner of the wall opposite the one in which was the door I had entered through, “The changing room is just through there.”

Hurrying inside, into the small, bland room—unadorned completely apart from a wooden bench positioned by the far wall—I quickly strip off the shift and put on my own clothes once more, noticing as I do that there’s no sign of any cuts or tears in the many places where those bandits had been chopping away at me with their weapons. Someone must have spent quite some time fixing the sari for it to be so well done. No doubt because I was brought here by Gilgamesh himself, they went to extra lengths for his sake.

Exiting that area, I toss the balled-up hospital gown at the smirking nurse, who grabs it out of the air and tosses it in the basket beside her. I pause after opening the next door, and turn back to her, “Could you give my thanks to whoever fixed up my clothes?”

She nods, “Will do.”

“Thank you.” I leave, grateful to whomever that person is; had the sari still been a mess, I certainly couldn’t have been seen in public, alongside the god-king, wearing such shoddy attire, so I would have had to take a few minutes to sort it out myself, using Omnilium, which would have meant keeping him waiting even longer, and so would have left me feeling guilty for wasting any more of his precious time.

Thankfully, by following some helpfully placed ‘EXIT’ signs, I’m able to swiftly find my way out of the building. He’s waiting for me just beyond the doors, apparently not at all bothered by the glare of the sunlight despite the full suit of armour he’s dressed in. He’s also looking down at a small, rectangular tablet in his hand, not unlike that one I summoned on my way to Nippur; a Mobile Dataverse Device, I believe I read somewhere on the Dataverse that it was called.

“There you are. Say, how do you feel about death tournaments?” he looks up from his device, speaking casually, as if this is the most normal question ever to ask someone completely out of the blue.

“Uh...” my thought processes are totally derailed by this seemingly random query. I manage to kick them back into gear, though, “I don’t really have any special feelings about them one way or another, my king.”

I’d like to give the ‘correct’ answer if at all possible, but since I don’t know his own feelings on the matter and so cannot simply say something which I’m sure he will be in agreement with, I reluctantly settle for simply being honest.

“Ah... so you’d probably not be too interested in participating in one then? I’ve just heard that this year’s Dante’s Abyss tournament is starting up soon and figured it would be a good way to publicise Nippur’s rebirth if some of us were to join… you don’t need to feel pressured into doing so, though, I’m sure a few of the others will be up for it.”

“I will join! I would gladly do anything that would please you, my king!” I drop down onto one knee and gaze adoringly up at him, staring into his beautiful, crimson eyes. He gives me an odd look for a moment and I feel my blush return slightly as I wonder whether I might have accidentally put a little too much emphasis on the word ‘anything’ in that second sentence. Then he smiles.

“Excellent. Glad to hear you’re up for it.” stashing the device safely inside his armour, the Golden King begins to head off immediately, and I hurry after him.

After a couple minutes of walking, though, something occurs to me and I speak up, “My king, what of the walls? We never got to complete the repairs to those. Is it alright to leave that unfinished?”

“Don’t worry,” he waves dismissively, “I’ll send a message to someone to get it done while we’re away. I’m sure there are plenty of citizens around who could do with paying jobs, and we should still have some stockpiles of building materials, I imagine, so they should be able to handle it.”

“Aha, right, of course.” there’s a tinge of worry in my voice as I say this, and my smile is shaky at best. I feel as if I could just curl up and die. I’m not brave enough to confess to him that I’ve already un-summoned an entire warehouse filled with huge stone blocks, without permission, to get the Omnilium I would have needed to fix those walls myself… so that as a result, there may not even be enough material left for the citizens to do this alone, depending on how many—if any—other warehouses there are... I want to confess, because I'm sure he'll only be angrier later if I don't, when he eventually finds out from someone else... but I just can't bring myself to say something to him which I know would earn me his disapproval.

He gives me another odd look and I squirm uncomfortably under his authoritative gaze, but he doesn’t question my odd behaviour, and soon looks away. I stifle a sigh of relief. We walk on in awkward silence… or what feels awkward to me, at least, though Gilgamesh appears perfectly content to drink in the adoration of his loyal citizens as they stop what they’re doing to watch him pass.

Soon we’re at the gates once more, and I notice him looking over at the lumpen, half-finished attempt I made of repairing the wall section to the right of the gateway… no doubt he’s wondering how I managed to do such a terrible job, despite taking such a long time about it… especially since using Omnilium requires nothing more than for one to visualise their desire. He must think that I have all the imagination and intellect of the average potato.

I cringe just thinking about his ever-lowering opinions of me, but he makes no comment on this failure either. I can’t say I know why my king is being so forgiving, but I won’t question it… I can only hope his patience holds out long enough for me to actually manage to start to get things right.

Unlike when Gilgamesh had first summoned these gates, they now stand wide open, though there are a half dozen guards stationed nearby, at the ready to haul on the chains of the pulley system which will swing them closed, should any more bandit attacks threaten Nippur’s security. The Golden King strides confidently through them, and I follow meekly along in his wake.

Outside is a vast marquee of dark grey canvas, with its entrance flaps pinned open and the word ‘Syntech’ emblazoned on its side. We’re met by a rush of cool air as we step inside, a pleasant breeze which is immensely refreshing after the scorching heat of the city streets. There are all manner of desks and chairs and benches and cabinets and chests and all sorts of other furnishings lying around the large room, some piled high with papers or strange instruments, whilst other areas are completely bare. And placed seemingly at random atop some of these objects, there are numerous fans, their blades spinning rapidly as they produce this pleasant air current.

Seven uniformed individuals stand over by one of the tables, looking down at what I presume to be some sort of Dataverse Device, though it’s at least three times the size of the little, hand-held tablets that Gilgamesh and I have used. Upon noticing our arrival, two of them turn and head over our way, a handsome enough man—though of course he pales in comparison to Nippur’s god-king—and a bubbly, enthusiastic woman, who steps up to me and grasps both of my hands in her own.

Dragging me off, away from my king—who is being led aside much more respectfully by the male employee—the woman babbles inanely to me about this ‘Dante’s Abyss’ thing, her voice annoyingly high-pitched. She sits me down at a desk, shoves aside a pile of files with such force that several of them topple to the ground, then slides a pen and paper in front of me. Looking down I begin trying to read the extremely small print which covers practically the entire page. After a few sentences I give up.

“What is this?”

“Oh, nothing much, just a liability release waiver, to confirm that Syntech bears absolutely no responsibility in the event of your brutal, drawn-out and agonising departure from this mortal coil, and also cannot be held accountable for any belongings lost or stolen, for any mental trauma which you may experience before, during or after Dante’s Abyss... or for anything else at all, really. If you could just sign on the dotted line then we can move right along.” her tone is so cheery that I almost sign without even giving it a thought, before taking a moment to think about it and realising that this sounds sketchy as all hell.

Still, my king is interested, and I can’t bear to look like a coward to him, so—feeling like I’m signing away my soul—I scribble down my signature where instructed. Snatching up the form almost the instant my pen has left the page, the woman glances down at what I’ve written, then asks, “Name?”

“Ahana Varma” I tell her, to which she nods in response, apparently deeming my handwriting neat enough to be more or less legible.

“Excellent! Well-” she hauls me to my feet and begins dragging me off somewhere else, “-if you could just follow me over to this table here, we can run some quick tests, ensure you’re healthy enough to participate, and then get on to the fun stuff!”

Not wanting to ask what she considers ‘fun stuff’, I do my best to sit patiently in the new seat she has plopped me down in as she hooks me up to several strange appliances piled clumsily one atop the other on the table beside my chair. She nods cheerily and occasionally quotes some utterly meaningless number at me, as if I’m supposed to care.

Then she frowns at something, taps a screen, and shakes her head, making a tutting noise and muttering something about old equipment.

Then, quick as a flash, the crazy bitch stabs me.

I’m not hurt—in fact, her ‘attack’ is blocked by a single, tiny spark, so despite her speed, this Syntech woman clearly isn’t the most threatening of fighters herself—but I instinctively yank my hand back nonetheless, glancing down at it to make sure she hasn’t broken my skin.

“What the fuck was that abou!?” I demand, looking back up to see her inspecting the now-broken syringe which had been her weapon of choice.

“Oh, very sorry, just had to test something out!” she giggles, her tone of voice alone giving me a powerful urge to pummel her face in, “I couldn’t let you take part if we couldn’t get accurate readings of all your vitals… so I had to be sure you really were as thick-skinned as this old thing said you were!”

The young woman slaps the display she had been frowning at earlier, causing it to wobble dangerously and almost fall, before she hurriedly steadies it. My lips purse into a thin line of annoyance. Her ‘thick skin’ comment worries me, even though I know full well that my defences are magical rather than biological in nature… is she just a fool, or is that how I seem to everyone? Is that how Gilgamesh sees me? Not as a master of defensive spellcraft, but merely as a simple, brutish creature with some inherent durability?

Forcing myself not to overreact and pick a fight with this cretin, I allow her to lead me to the next station—which she assures me repeatedly is ‘the best’—and then go through the motions I’m instructed to for the purposes of making their little ‘promo’... whatever that is. I demonstrate my ability to summon golden flame, and create my javelins from thin air as well, then follow her ‘suggestions’ and strike some poses which make me feel utterly ridiculous.

I keep my gaze well away from the side of the tent where the god-king is surely going through all this nonsense as well—though I imagine he is doing a much better job than I at maintaining his dignity—as if by not seeing him I can somehow keep him from seeing me as well… even the thought of him observing this idiocy is mortifying.

When at last the bubbly attendant has had her fill of posing me like a doll, she squeals with delight and applauds briefly, in so irritating a manner that I actually begin to wonder if she’s being intentionally patronising.

Before I can make up my mind, she hustles me off once again, and I’m instructed to stand on a wide, metal disc, which she says will teleport me straight to a place called the ‘Danteverse’, almost certainly without any permanent, irreversible tissue damage. Ignoring that last bit for a moment, I try to ask that I be allowed to wait for my king before proceeding, but before I can get out more than a couple words, there’s a tremendously bright flash of light and everything around me vanishes.

[Erik Vrell]

“Come on, let's go, let's go! I want front row seats to see daddy!” Valeria shouted excitedly, tugging Erik along with her. The psychic had never been good with children, but the young half-zombie didn't seem to mind his apprehension. Although Erik was just supposed to be taking Valerie to the spectator’s area, he couldn't suppress the excitement in his stomach. There was no way he was missing out on this year’s abyss. Ever since watching Sasuke fight to the finish in the first one, he had a secret love for the death contest. The pair soon found Nippur’s DA entrance tent, and Erik ducked inside, taking Valerie with him. A single woman sat behind a desk, a pile of blank entry forms sitting beside her. 

“You here to sign up for Dante’s Abyss?” She drawled, before receiving a nod from the psychic. “Name?” 

“Erik Vrell.”

“Occupation?”

“Noble of Nippur, high priest of the old gods.” Erik said, earning him an odd look from both the woman and Val.

“Um, okay.” She said, jotting something down. “Prime or secondary?” 

“Prime.”

“Place of residence?”

“Nippur, of course.” 

“Any group affiliations?”

“New Babylon.”

“Of course…” The woman said, scribbling down some information with one of the most bored looks Erik had ever seen. Once she had finished, she handed Erik the entrance form and pointed to a dotted line. “Sign here. By signing the document, you agree that Syntech is not responsible for any damage to you, your property, or your mental state.”

Erik quickly signed the form, before eagerly handing it back to the woman.

“Now, come over here for a moment. We’ve just gotta film your promo.”

“Promo?” Erik inquired.

“Y’know, something to get people excited to see you.” She said, rolling her eyes when she thought Erik couldn't see. The woman motioned for Erik to move in front of a camera off to the side of the tent. The psychic stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before the woman gestured for him to act.

“Come on!” She hissed. “Do something intimidating.” 

Erik nodded, before turning to face the camera. 

“I am Erik Vrell, nobleman of New Babylon.” Erik said, doing his best to muster up a commanding voice as his eyes flashed violet. Psi drifted from his cloak, wreathing the psychic in an amethystine veil. Without warning, his chains erupted from his back, wrapping around the camera so that just his eyes are visible through the binding. “Only fools would stand against me. And they don't stand for very long.”

“Very good.” The woman behind the camera said dryly. It was obvious that she had heard it all. Valerie, on the other hand, was highly amused, clapping vigorously. 

“Yay, Uncle Erik!” She shouted happily.

“So, what's up with the girl?” The woman asked.

“It's… Kind of complicated. How do secondaries get to the spectator’s area?” Erik said. “She's come to see her father compete.”

“Just go on through.” The woman said, turning back to her paperwork. “Just keep in mind that she can't actually enter the abyss.”

Satisfied, Erik and Val stepped onto the pad before being whisked off to the preshow centre.

[Victor Wolfe]

Walking slowly Victor stretched out his limbs, the night before had been the best in a year and a half but it had left the assassin aching and drained, if not for the festivities that where about to take place he would have probably just laid on that bar counter in the arms of his lover for the next week. But There where people to kill, things to see and deals to be made in the prime filled halls of DA, and it would not do for the new face of Nippurian diplomacy to not show up would it? 

It had been many years since Victor last set foot in the abyss, he had made his name there banishing that cute girl to be "torn apart and molested by all manner of demons", certainly a shame but business was business. That event had allowed Victor to get in good with Goldie and lead to his current position as a lord of one of the largest gatherings of primes Wolfe had ever seen. This year was going to be their time to shine, like a glorious golden phoenix rising from the ashes of the past two years.

The sand in the winds of the dunes lead the assassin back to the Syntech sign up tent, as he walked into the tent, he was met with a fake smile and dry tone of a women who was clearly sick of dealing with an endless tirade of primes, her face screaming out that she thought the desert would be one of the quieter verses, her fingernails still wet with the painting she was trying to get done when not dealing with Nippurians. 

"Hello, Sir! Are you here to sign up for Dantes Abyss?" She squeaked a little too actively to sound sincere, clearly, someone who could not refuse the paycheck but was not going to put anymore real effort into this than she had too. Picking up a pen with her unpainted hand she grasped one of the many forums to the side of her desk as a torrent of questions came forth, Victor answering them quick but politely.

"Name?"

"Victor Wolfe" 

"Occupation?" 

"Lord of Nippur, and head of the diplomacy." 

"Ok, I guess." She noted down something, not sure how someone who barely looked out of their teens would be able to hold such a high ranking position causing Victor to grin.

"Prime or secondary?"

Victor put his hands together light glowing in them as he separated his fingers to reveal a small lion made of gold with red eyes, small black dots finishing off the details of the model. 

"Ok clearly a prime, And I assume that your place of residence is Nippur and you associate with the faction of New Babylon like the rest of the people here?" She sighed as she wrote down the next few sections. Victor simply nodding as his eyes drifted around, a bored look on his face as he remembered the first time he had to do all of this, he was so much younger then. 

"Ok that is all fine Mr. Wofle, please sign on the dotted line then step in front of the camera for your promo shoot" she said boredly as she handed the sheet of paper to Vic, who with one swift flick of his wrist had his name on the paper quicker than the attendant could even see. 

Like a professional model Victor stepped in front of the camera, thinking for a moment he raised a finger asking the camera crew for a moment, as he turned he began to focus OM into the ground, a two meter high red brick wall appearing in front of the assassin, satisfied with his work Victor turned leaning backwards against the wall, face down, with one foot on the wall as he curved his leg in a v shape. He removed a dagger from its sheath and began to spin it on the edge of his finger balanced perfectly. 

Once he was sure that the cameras where rolling he looked up, ignoring the spinning silver blade as he began to very calmly talk to the audience. 

"Hello there folks, my name is Victor Wolfe, and you may remember me from such feature-length films as the battle for Nippur, and the banishment of Violet. I am here today to help show the skill and might of the reborn kingdom of Nippur, You the verses are filled with many primes, a lot of them extremely skilled and frightening, but in the Abyss where any slight advantage matters, none have the determination or teamwork that we Nippurians have, the last few years have been a nice chance for other primes to show off their skills it is true. And some have even made a name for themselves through this event, but the kings are back to take our place on top of the pecking order, and it is going to take a hell of a lot to stop us, after all not even Diablo could keep a Nippurian down for very long. So do whatever you wish to prepare, I am telling you all right now we are walking away with that victory." 

Victor grinned at the camera as he finished his promo the office worker at the desk clearly having heard the same thing again and again started to speak.

"Just go through..."

"I already know how this works" Victor cut her off not wanting to deal with any more of her attitude when he could be spending this time scouting out the competition. Stepping onto the pad he gave a sarcastic wave as he was teliported into the preshow area.

[Mickey Mouse]

How the heck did he convince himself to do this again?

The queue stretched on for what seemed like miles at the Costa del Sol Dante’s Abyss registration booth. Back in the day, when Mickey had first tried his hand at Karl Jak’s certainly borderline-illegal deathmatch challenge, the lines had been small; since the competition (and Jak) had reached celebrity status, it seemed anyone who could even pretend to be a prime wanted in on the action.

Heat radiated from the Vasty Deep’s sun and coated Mickey’s black fur with a thin layer of sweat. The longer the wait, the more the mouse panted, and he wondered, idly, if he still had the stamina to keep up with the other competitors. He certainly hadn’t been in tip top shape these past few months; was the fact that he couldn’t even really deal with a pretty long wait in line a sign that, perhaps, his heroism days were drawing to a close? He knew that he would fight for what was right until he literally breathed his last Omniverse breath, but… would it even make a dent anymore if he was this weakened?

Thankfully, Syntech employees patrolled the line, offering up bottle upon bottle of refreshing Pepsi to help the future competitors keep hydrated. Mickey supposed the corporation had Pepsiman to thank for that—despite being brutalized by the contestants the first time around, the walking soda mascot had kept coming back to the competition, content to be touted out as the sparkling, uber-refreshing celebrity he was. Mickey had always hoped the simple dude would pull the PepsiCo sponsorship, really hit Karl Jak where it hurt: his wallet.

Though he supposed Pepsiman probably didn’t actually pull the PepsiCo strings; not many creatures had the clout and capability to serve as the face of their Empire and run it, like he did. And if he were being truthful, he didn’t know if he’d trust Pepsiman to run so much as a bake sale, let alone a mega-corporation.

He’d have to hit up the guy and check in on him, if he happened to be in the preshow facility. If he ever got to the preshow facility.

As the line dwindled—ever so slowly—Mickey Mouse found his feet getting colder and colder. How was he supposed to measure up to all these people who had been doing this for years? And who was he about to meet again after such a long time removed?

Would Samus be here? Would she debase herself by joining this competition again just to get to Karl Jak? What about Harry, or Erza? Would they be returning? Would people who he’d met elsewhere—Link, or Belle, perhaps—be joining them in the Dante Verse? Would Blues be here, or was he still off fighting that mysterious dark evil thing Minnie had told him about? He felt incredibly conflicted about how much he longed to see his friends in the preshow facility—no doubt he didn’t want them anywhere near this awful event, but he just wanted his buddies back so much.

On the flip side, he hoped he wouldn’t have to see a few people’s ugly mugs up in here. The last thing he needed was to get caught in Kopaka’s crosshairs again, or find out Gilgamesh had somehow escaped the supposedly permanent prison of banishment to fight again.

His gloved fingers reached into his pocket and idly played with the banishment circle sitting at the bottom. Banishment wasn’t really the mouse’s style, but Samus and Proto Man had expressed to him their beliefs that sometimes evil people were so powerful, they had to be sent away for good. And in a place like the Omniverse—a place where actual death meant surprisingly little—sometimes banishment was the only way.

“E-excuse me,” a small voice piped up from outside the line. Mickey leapt a bit, jerking his hand out of his pocket and looking to its source. A small girl with a lollipop in her hand, not much taller than he himself, had wandered over to where he stood and gazed at him with big, bulbous blue eyes. Her jaw hung agape a bit, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Mickey waited for a few moments, and then when it became clear she wasn’t going to let him know why she’d called out to him, he spoke up. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Uh, um,” she swallowed nervously, “are you… Mickey Mouse?”

The King could feel the eyes of the other would-be competitors wandering over to him casually. “Um,” he glanced around, discerning whether or not any of these people were Empire hooligans, “um, yeah, that’s me, little one. What’s up?”

The little girl stared for a few more seconds, and then reached into one of the pockets of her dress and pulled out a keychain with the mouse king and his wife on it. He and Minnie looked… kinda strange, dressed in their casual clothes. Given how long they’d been royalty now, it’d been a while since he’d worn just the red shorts and she’d sported a polka dot dress, but there they were, little action figures snuggled up and hanging off this girl’s key ring. Mickey’s head tilted curiously at the sight, and noted that his eyes were also completely blacked out. Weird.

“Are you trying to fight in this game?” she asked, taking a lick off her lollipop. Mickey opened his mouth to speak, but all of sudden felt… embarrassed. How was he going to stand here and tell this little girl that he, someone she clearly looked up to for reasons he still didn’t understand, was about to go and engage in ultra-violent combat with a bunch of the most deplorable primes in the entire Omniverse? “My mommy won’t let me watch Dante’s Abyss,” she noted, filling the silence.

“Well, uh,” Mickey stammered, “that’s probably for the best, sister.” He frowned and scratched his head, and glanced back down the line.

It wasn’t too late to not do this. He could still leave.

In that moment, he was startled to feel the girl’s arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him in tightly for a hug. Their cheeks met, and tentatively, he reached around and embraced her, too. “What’s your name, kid?” he said in her ear, and she giggled a little bit.

“I’m Susie,” she smiled. “And I actually gotta go. My mommy's calling me.” 

Mickey slipped out of the embrace, looking up at little Susie—not so little to him, standing at least half a foot taller than he did. “Well, Susie,” he placed his hands on his hips, defiant and with a decision made. He wasn’t going to let this competition get to him—his morals were more important. Surely there’d be another way to get to Karl Jak and stop him from spreading his corporate evil throughout the Omniverse. “I’m probably actually gonna leave myself.”

“No!” Susie shook her head, placing a finger to Mickey’s lips. “You can’t leave! It’d be so cool for you to be on a TV show here like you were at home! I’m rooting for you!”

Mickey’s ears perked up. Rooting for him?

A real smile slid across the mouse’s face. Someone believed in him, even just a little bit, and that was a special feeling he hadn’t really encountered in quite a while.

“Here,” she said, snapping the keychain off her key ring and shoving it at him, “It’s my lucky one. You should have it. Not that you need it, but, y’know… just in case and all!” Mickey hesitantly reached out and grabbed the keychain, nodding to Susie. She giggled again, taking another lick out of her lollipop and stepping away from the line. “Anyway… good luck, Mr. Mouse! I hope you win!”

And with that, little Susie darted away down the beach out of sight. Mickey materialized his keyblade in his hand and hooked the keychain of him and Minnie on the end of it. He’d keep little Susie with him the whole competition… as a reminder; reminder that he was here to do what’s right. Not to senselessly kill, or give in to this game’s murderous impulses. But to set stuff right.

And when he finally reached the top of the line, that conviction gave him enough motivation to step into the tent to greet the Syntech employees. Three of them sat at a long table, going over forms and whispering in hushed tones to each other about the gaggle of would-be competitors that had already siphoned through the flaps of their tent. The one in the middle looked up, and as he saw Mickey his eye brightened and a smirk flitted onto his face.

“Well, well, well,” the man slid his glasses off his face, “Your name, sir?”

“Mickey Mouse,” the king squeaked nervously, “But I think maybe you already knew that?”

“Always good to check,” the man shrugged. “We have you on file as ‘Ears’ or something boring like that. Long time no see.”

Mickey scowled. These Syntech goons were just as slimy as he remembered. The other two hurriedly collected a bunch of blank forms for him to fill out, but the middle guy stood up and held out a hand. “We’ll get you to fill these forms out in just a second—biography, so the audience can know a little bit about you, and then Lydia will take your vitals and record them. But for you, I’d like to start with a little promo. You want to film a little promo for us, Mickey?”

Truly, he did not. He wanted to send a message.

“Sure,” he snarled, and turned to face the camera. One of the Syntech employees hurried over and pressed the record button. “The name’s Mickey Mouse, y’all. I just want everyone—especially my wife and little Susie—to know I’m not playing this game… but I’m gonna win it. Oh—and one more thing…”

He threw up a peace sign.

“MESH is back.”

[Proto Man]

He didn’t know how long Rush and he flew for before Proto Man spotted an island that sported a developed civilization. Hours? Half a day? A day? Truth be told, he didn’t even know if he recall the sun setting or not during the time his companion and he had spent cruising low over the calm ocean waters.

It was a wonder that Mickey had chosen this verse to withdraw to after such a turbulent time in the Graveyard and Nippur.

As he flew in lower to the island, Proto Man spotted a colorful tent set up just outside the walls of a small town. A scan of the village showed it to be similar to Bilgewater—18th century technology blended with some anachronisms like the defensive turrets that appeared to be lifted from a warship.

Landing near the tent, Proto Man walked up to the young woman standing outside of its entrance flap. She wore an almost painfully cheery look on her face. “Good afternoon, young man.” She spoke as she crouched down to look the robot in the visor. “Are you here to register for the event?”

“Event?” Proto Man asked, furrowing his brow behind the black, glass-like material.

“Dante’s Abyss, the premier event in su—”

With a scowl, the preteen machine walked passed the attendant. He immediately recognized the tent once he saw the equipment and various decorations set up inside of it. A second worker, a young man, stood with a confused look on his face next to the control panel for the recall platform.

“That was a quick registration,” he said in a tone that reflected his uncertainty at why the young, red-plated child had strode into the transport tent.

“Yea, let’s go,” Proto Man spoke as he moved onto the platform. Without waiting for more remarks, he flipped the switch and closed his eyes.

A beat later, he opened them up to see the opulence of the Dante Verse.

[Dave Strider]

I also made the stupid mistake of not seeing thing thread

Here is the post link

If need to be deleted and redone lemme know/send a copy/etc. I also have a post in the preshow already.