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Day One - Part 2

#21
Sunlight streamed from between the leaves and branches of the trees as the unlikely duo made their way through the forest. They walked in silence, and though he didn’t know what was on Link’s mind, Ganondorf’s thoughts were of the relatively easy scuffle they had just endured. In fact, he was satisfied, particularly considering the debacle over the hammer, that the boy had been such an easy target. And with the strange child’s gear having been added to their own, he felt quite a bit of joy that he could simultaneously increase his advantage and decrease that of another contestant. Some of what had happened irked the Great Ganondorf, such as Link’s apprehension at sharing the details of what he had found in the bag, aside from the supplies. Oh, the boy did well. His face had stayed blank as he had gone through the strange one’s belongings, but the Gerudo saw the slight widening of the boy’s eyes, and the twitch of his eyebrow. Link had found something of use in that bag.

However, Ganondorf knew that it would be best not to press the issue. Link still didn’t trust him fully, and demanding to know what he had found would only provoke the boy to anger. So, the Gerudo simply resolved to take contentment in what he had accomplished, rather than to worry about what the boy might have planned. And besides, it felt right that things would finally turn around for him and Link. They’d been through much since arriving on this island and they were certainly due for a windfall.

“Are you?” a woman’s voice whispered to Ganondorf on the wind. The Gerudo looked about for the source, yet Link had neither turned to him, nor did he seem aware that anyone had spoken to him. “Why would a murderer like you deserve anything good?”

“You’re pathetic,” another source-less voice said, gruff and full of hate. “Aligning with your enemy? To what low will the great King Ganondorf fall? And now afraid to anger the boy? What a worthless scion you are.”

“You abandoned them,” came a third voice, child-like. “You’ve abandoned the ways of your people and your innocence, all in a quest for power. And what good has it done you? Everyone who trusts you is left to wither and die.”

The voices continued to speak in turn, accusing Ganondorf and telling him of his failings. His failure to remain true to his people. His failure to stay true to his quest for power. His failure to save her. As they continued, The Dark King would see figures in the woods around him in his peripherals, only for them to vanish as he tried to get a better look at them. Each accusation was more vitriolic than the last, and the Dark King’s visage darkened as they spoke and his mood soured. Desperate to rid himself of these tormentors, the Gerudo looked to Link and asked him a simple question about his weapon. The two conversed for a moment, and Ganondorf did what he could for Link’s arm. While the Gerudo was no great healer, (of course not, he was a conquerer, a slayer of men) he knew enough to set the joint in place. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but at least the boy wouldn’t be quite as much of a burden now. As for that distraction… Ganondorf took a knee, the leafy floor of the forest providing him with a soft place to kneel, and he removed his bag. Unfortunately, Karl Jak had failed to provide him with any survival gear aside from the food and water, but it wasn’t to the contents of the bag that the Gerudo looked. It was the strap. On it, a small metal ring provided a loop through which the strap could be adjusted. The Dark King’s mighty hands took hold of this ring and pulled it open, leaving the strap to hang free before he tied it to the hoop’s anchor-point.

As the Gerudo worked, Link looked curiously at him and asked what he was doing. With a wry grin, he replied, “When you were returned to Hyrule after those seven years, I suppose you recall me saying that I was watching you. Of all the things you did then, your time at that fishing hole seemed to be one of your most joyous. It was if, for a time, you could forget the world around you.”

The Gerudo continued working as he spoke, fashioning through some work, a semblance of a hook from the metal ring, sharpening the end with a nearby stone. He reached down to his trousers, pulling free a few threads with a ripping noise, and he worked deftly to form the two items into a makeshift fishing line.

“It won’t be very strong, and it’s obviously not perfect,” Ganondorf explained as he handed over what he had created. “But it should do.”

The blond Hylian looked over the line, seemingly interested in the proposition, before the boy’s face turned sour and he shook his head. “We don’t have time for this, Ganondorf. We need to continue moving. What about the contest? What if someone comes across us while we’re distracted?”

The Dark Lord chuckled and patted Link on the shoulder. “A short diversion won’t hurt us.” His grin gre more pronounced as he continued with, “Besides, as useful as those MRE things are, they’re a poor substitute for a cooked meal, and it’s nearly lunch time. Come, from what I remember of the map Jak gave us, there should be a river nearby. And while you’re fishing, I’ll forage for some vegetables to truly make this a meal.”

And with that, the two moved off into the woods once again.

#22
The trio trekked their way on the ground, the water becoming a distant memory as they started to go up a hill. As they were going along, Desco was curious about this Ambrosia thing that Guu got Desco into. "So who is in Ambrosia?" Guu nodded, it was a fair question to ask and a good one. Her hand went up to her chin as she looked up at the sky thinking to herself. "I have a lot of secondaries in right now. There are a bunch of them that had no other place to go so I took them in. But we don't have many primes yet." Desco nodded, she had mentioned this part before to Carn when he asked about Ambrosia. A place where outcasts were welcomed to make their own society here where they couldn't fit in elsewhere.

"That guy I showed you in the pre-show, that was Gildarts. He is another Prime in my kingdom. He is a nice guy and very helpful. I think that red-head Erza will join too, Gildarts knows her. With Erza and you that makes four primes.." Desco, mouth slightly open as Guu spoke, closed her mouth and nodded. She was amazed that Guu had done so much after Desco left her. Desco only left the Green and then helped daddy, but Guu made a city! She didn't realize that the subtle time deviations in the Omniverse were probably partially responsible for giving Guu more time to work with.

"Hey look, right over this hill we should be there! Ha ha ha, I wonder what kind of food is in there!" Desco's excitement quickly built as Luffy showed his excitement. He started running so Desco tried to move a little faster. But at the top of the hill they were approaching only showed more grassland."Wait this isn't right.""Luffy... I told you we shouldn't have gone.." Luffy surveyed the landscape and pointed to a big rock on a bigger hill in a direction that would bring them at a sort of angle back the way they came. "There! That has to be it!" Desco and Guu ended up following him again, and over that hill with the rock... was water! Water that extended out as far as the eye could see. "How did we get back here?" Desco whispered to Guu. "Desco doesn't think he knows where he is going." Guu just rolled her eyes, that is what she has been trying to say. "Tell me about it.."

#23
Face to Face
#41 Negi Springfield vs #02 Cindy


The man was taking a nap? In the middle of the afternoon?

Cindy scowled as she poked at him with her boot. After a few jabs, the young redhead woke up from his sleep. It took him a few moments to recall where he was, and then another moment to realize that an armored woman was standing over him. When it all came back to him, he bolted into a seated, upright position and looked up at his new acquaintance.

“Oh hey,” Negi Springfield muttered, his hand going behind his hair as he flashed a smile at the stern-faced woman looking down at him. “Friend?”

“Foe,” Cindy muttered as she stepped forward and bashed her opponent in the face with something concealed inside her duffel bag. Swaying backwards, Negi reached back and grabbed the hammer from the ground. As he flung his torso forward, he swung the weapon with all his might, catching Cindy on the knee. The monster hunter let out a yelp as the impact knocked her feet out from under her. At that point, the woman slid a gloved hand into her bag.

With a bang, the end of the duffel tore apart as the fat bullet shot out and slammed into Negi’s shoulder. While the previous smack had almost tipped him over, the force of the gun caused him to roll head over heels backwards for a few yards before he managed to hook his hands around a rock jutting out from the cave wall.

“Oh, that smarts,” he groaned as he looked at his blood-stained clothes. He was about to make another quip when he saw the red dot appear on his chest. “Time to go.” Before Cindy found the trigger, Negi vanished into the darkness of the cave, hoping that there’d be an exit somewhere on the other side of the mountain.

Negi has a through-and-through bullet wound on his right shoulder. The shoulder and his arm will be sore and hard to use – Major Injury (+6 Damage)
Cindy has a bruised knee – Minor Injury (+2 Damage)
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

#24
Limping away from the previous confrontation, I was forced to retreat. Apparently, my opponents were better than me. "Oopths( Oops)," I say, with the obvious difference in my lingual capabilities. "I thake thath back. This ith no fun( I take that back. This is no fun)." Slowing down to position myself, I settle down once I figured I was in a good distance away from the duo. Checking for any other damages, I find some of my teeth missing, a broken arm and leg to boot. With a graceful 'crack' as I try to push my bones back into place, I immediately realize the futility of the act. I mean I am an anomaly, I have no bones as far as I can remember. This must have been a misalignment in my frame.

A few minutes in, pain catches on to me. The odd feeling of warmth entering me from shallow wounds tells me just how different I am. Cold and black anomaly mist slowly seeps out of my damaged frame. "This is bad. I might lose myself soon." Walking silently as I pace myself, my frame starts to crumble against the external forces after the initial impact. Marching towards a well-shaded area, I move on without favoring the limped leg, each step sending a reminder of how bad I am in.

Now, if only I can get something to splint my injuries on...wood's too frail, rock's uncomfortable...Aha! Rushing as fast as I can, about 9 inches per second, I eventually(finally) reach the grassy clearing I landed on. Well, more like 'jumped on' but I shouldn't be so nitpicky on that. Now this is gonna be good. This game might actually be fun afterall.

Closing in on the metallic wreck which was once a...an..uhm a bee( forgot what the man called it), I start my plan. Grabbing some nice, straight anglebars from the metal hull wreckage, I sandwich a pair of good lengthed hull ribs on my bad leg, securing them in place with a makeshift metal ring that goes around my thigh. Now that's been dealt with, my arm is next. Ofcourse I had to stiffle my cry no matter how bad that felt once metal pressed on a bad bone. Before going for the next part, I look up and smile, waving at whoever was watching us. "Cheer for me, peons. I'm doing this to amuse you peabrains."

With the little extra weight for bracing my misaligned frame, my body shuffles through debris looking for something to wrap my broken arm in. A little insanely loud shout of discomfort later, I manage to find something to envelope my limped appendage using the helicopter's(rejoice! I've remembered the term!) metal skin. Funny how the best material here would be metal yet it folds like paper to an anomaly like me. After all those simple tricks, my body movements are as good as ever, albeit heavier and well protected. Now, all that's left is a weapon...

Scanning through the remaining debris, I spot a large, jagged piece of the aircraft which my writer here insists it came from a door. Carefully pulling it out of the pile, I roll the dull edge of it on a detached pipe I picked up beforehand. Now, my makeshift scythe is complete. As I walk away from the site, my foot hits a heavy object, causing me to stumble a little bit on my bad leg which surprisingly manages itself well after what I just did. Nice. Looking down to where I tripped, I see a wide, rectangular slab of metal which appears to have come from the helicopter's rotor blades. I grab hold of it and tie its end with a loop of fabric torn from my pants' sleeve, slipping my good arm into it and securing it on my back. Now I have a makeshift blade 8 inches wide and 6 feet long. Haha.

Finally, I grab pieces of jagged metal and force them into my gums(?), fitting them snuggly in place of teeth. "Ouch, didn't think of that very well."

Once all that modification scene is done, I head downstream to get myself into drinking some 'water'. With a large gulp, I can feel every bad bacteria and foreign organism going down my form. Delicious.

Going back the way I came in, I soon end up somewhere farther than my drop zone. I can tell it's getting dark soon as the afternoon sun skids above the horizon. I won't be caught offguard this time, the warmth building up inside me compels me too. "I won't let anymore anomaly mist escape me," I tell my self. Now, this is where things get bad very quickly. Exciting my self and my anomaly traits, I prepare myself for any approaching targets, ready to meet them with razor-sharp teeth and jagged metal dentures( -1 point to awesomeness). This is it. This is my trap. Anyone who steps inside it will perish.

Preparing my focus all around me, from the rustling wind to the stray, heavy and deep footsteps of an incoming prime, my body will lunge at any enemy unlucky enough to walk in, facing a might flurry of slashes and gashes from the teeth and equipment. No matter what happens, if I go down, I will bring down as much as I can with me. I am Carn, an Anomaly. I am also mad.

"COME AT ME!" I play the voice in my mind. "COMPH ATH MEH!" I know it sounded better in my head. Curse the metal false teeth.

#25
"We are making good progress, Still this stroll has been a bit too quiet, I am surprised we have not run into anyone else yet, Lets hope that everyone else is not having this level of peace, otherwise we might run into fresh opponents, that could be bad." Victor noted in his mind.

There was one other thing that was going through his head, MREs taste awful, although he had scoffed it down due to his state of starvation thinking back on the flavour, it could be one of the worst things he had eaten. And as an assassin who often had to spend weeks behind enemy lines waiting for a moment to strike, he had eaten some pretty awful things.

However he had thought of a way to remedy that situation, as he walked he had noticed much life on the island and was going to take advantage of it, that is why he was currently slowly shuffling towards a rabbit, he had hunted them many times in the past and knew that they tasted good.

Wolfe shuffled slowly towards the defenseless creature, rabbits have an excellent sense of hearing so Wolfe decided to move slowly and light footed, as not to attract the creatures attention, he also knew of there other strength. Rabbits possess roughly a three hundred and forty degree vision luckily this one was not looking around much, clearly not worried about predation, sticking to this twenty degrees of vision Wolfe managed to close the distance until he was mere feet away, coiling like a viper until he could move no further without alerting the creature.

And with a burst of pure speed he was over it, it tried to run to no avail, Wolfe had it directly in his striking zone, it could not reach a speed to escape, all he had to do now was slash it, smiling triumphantly, Wolfe reached for his waist, something was wrong, he felt around not finding what he was looking for, then he remembered. His daggers were not with him on the island, the realisation caused Wolfe to trip allowing the rabbit to escape with its life. "Looks like it's MREs again unless I find more rabbit, defeated by my one reliance on those blades, how utterly depressing" Wolfe laughed at his own lapse of concentration.
[Image: LMLzBQ4.gif][Image: psgGbSy.png]                                                                                                                                [Image: 2lvxt0w.gif]

#26
Face to Face
#39 Victor Wolfe vs #07 Seraph

With a frown, Victor Wolfe sat down and looked at the spot where his would-be food had escaped. Leaning over, the man reached into his bag and pulled out the ‘weapon’ he had been provided with by the people in the helicopter. It seemed to be an undersized wooden staff with an over-the-shoulder scabbard. When he held it in his hands, though, it felt like something much more. Swinging the staff, Victor was surprised when it extended ten feet and slammed into a tree with enough of an impact to shake loose a few leaves. A beat later, it retracted to its former length.

Oh that’s interesting… It’s not a blade, but it should do. As he toyed with the staff, his keen ears picked up movement nearby. Had the rabbit come back to have another stab at his ego?

Rising to his feet, Victor scooped up his bag and slipped behind a tree. He listened until he heard the familiar sound of footsteps closing in on his location. Having heard the announcement that people were dying, the man didn’t want to be the next person. He had to make a choice to live.

Emerging from his cover, Victor Wolfe stabbed forward with the Power Pole. The staff shot forward and struck Seraph in the gut. Before the white-haired man could react, the pole retracted before being thrust once more. This time, the impact was that of wood and nose, and as Seraph lost his balance, his bag fell from his hand. A third blow caused the former hollow to collapse into a heap on the ground.

For Victor Wolfe, this was nothing more than an extension of his former line of work.

That didn’t mean he felt particularly pleased or excited about killing someone.

“Time to say goodbye,” Victor muttered as the other man glanced up at him.

“I’m sorry, Gilgamesh,” Seraph whispered as the Power Pole swung down and split his skull open.

#07 Seraph DEAD

40 Primes Remain

Victor receives Seraph's bag and its contents.
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

#27
These past few hours had proved to be quite the pleasant turn-out for Jon and his group.

Not only were Gilgamesh and he able to evade the competition for the first portion of the day and able to remain unscathed, unhindered and unharmed, but the King had seen it fit to bestow a sacred honour and title upon Jon; that of knighthood. Though the bastard had put on a smiling face and showed appreciation in front of the King, in complete honesty he couldn't give less of a care. Being a man of the Nights Watch was a close-enough honour to being a knight as is, and being the man to lead them, even more so. And whilst the recognition was still nice, Jon had a certain distaste for knights, Many knights from his own world were quite lousy and craven, truth be told. Many of them preferred the joust and other mindless sports and competition over actually working for the better of the realm. Jon liked to think he was a prime example of what a knight should be; honourable, brave, patient, diligent...

He couldn't exactly say chaste, though. That was the only one oath he'd ever broke.

And he'd certainly payed a heavy debt for it.

The trio (foursome, if the irksome horse was counted) had been able to still cover a surprisingly wide amount of ground since sunrise, even with a wounded Blackfire slowing them down a little. They now stood close by to some sort of beach - the ocean tides peacefully brushed and gushed over the sea shores, and a glimmering blue sea stretched as far out as the eye could envision. The calm sounds of the waters waves and the faint squawks of the gulls overhead set Jon's mind right at ease. He felt more in touch with peace and harmony right now than he had so far throughout this dreaded contest, and it was a lovely change of feeling and pace.

The group had pitched up a rather makeshift camp along the coastline. It had a distinct lack of a campfire, though - they all agreed that lighting one up would be just plain foolish, for the rising smoke would be sure to attract the attention of the other contenders, bringing them straight to them, and that's not exactly what they desired nor needed right now. They'd spread out a few thick, hefty logs that they'd found in an old, withered lumber shack nearby, that were both sturdy and wide enough to support the sitting-weight of somebody upon it. Though they were far from being comfortable or welcoming chair, they still fulfilled their purpose as seats and resting stations for the group just finely.

The unlikely foursome was rather spread apart right now, though. Blackfire had almost passed out completely, a lack of energy as well as agonising, strenuous and endless pain from her injury having knocked her out for the count. Jon didn't try to wake her as he rummaged through his bag, wanting to allow her body and mind to regain the strength it'd need for the road ahead. Gilgamesh had a peculiar and rather unplaced desire to go and venture out through and onto the beach; probably to scout ahead. Jon didn't bother protest, and the King made off, leaving him responsibility over the bags, a sleeping Tamaranean Queen and magical talking toy, the very latter being much to his own chagrin.

Jon continued to fish through his sack until at last, he had gripped ahold of what he was looking for, pulling it free from the duffel bag. A meal ready to eat. Jon hadn't a chance to savour any meal at all since arriving in the Omniverse two days or so prior, though he hadn't felt necessarily starving up until this point. Time flowed strangely, here. Was it this collar fitted around his neck that made the entity of time flow back into a more compatible and mortal state? Jon grunted. He hadn't considered the collars purpose up until now, nor was he told of it; when they fitted him with one during the chopper ride here, they remained vague and almost oblivious to Snow's questioning. When Jon asked what they were for, one of his escorts shrugged and simply stated that it was "against the rules" to compete in the Abyss without one.

...But not his mind was trailing off track, Jon realised.

He flipped the packet over to read over the front. His meal; a bean and rice burrito.

What in Seven Hells was a burrito?! Jon began to wonder to himself.

He slowly began to unpackage and take apart the small box. Carefully sliding the wrapped-up, concealed burrito from inside of it, he cast away the box, unravelling the foil around the food, interested to see what this meal was as well as eager to dig in. He felt far too hungry to even care what he ate right now, as long as it was something to keep him going and functioning.

What was within, however, made Jon's brow raise just a little. If there was any tinge of rice or beans in this, Jon couldn't see it, though he could feel some squishy substance on the inside as his thumbs pressed down into it a little, unsurprisingly, it was cold to the touch. Some weird bread or pastry masked and held-together whatever was in there. Jon stared at it quietly for a few moments, head titled to the side slightly, He was a little puzzled, and just a little unsure...

"It's just a burrito, ya big dick! It ain't gonna bite your head off!" the red donkey toy snickered.

Jon rolled his eyes slightly, not even sparing the abrasive toy a single glance. Snow really was wandering why the King bothered to keep this thing around, and didn't just throw it off into a ditch or a river somewhere. What use could that thing be, anyway?

Jon stared at his cold meal a little while longer. It came with no spoon, fork or any other cutlery, so Jon deduced that he'd just be eating it with his bare hands. Keeping both hands latched firmly onto it, he slowly moved the burrito towards his expanding maw, taking an uneasy first bite. Snow took a few moments to chew, and then winced slightly with disgust.

The thing was so cold it almost made it tasteless - bland, completely. It seemed no different from the slop they got given and made do with at the Wall, but this was something else entirely. The contents inside of the wrapped pastry were slimy and mushy, and the plain mixture and variation of flavours didn't help to flatter Jon's tastebuds at all. He did his best to swallow it all down anyway, and keep eating. He needed his strength, after all, and if this was the only stuff that could fuel him, then so be it.

"You really do know nothing, Jon Sneeew!" the red horse tutted; if it had bones to move it's own head, it'd probably be shaking it in moderate disapproval right now. Jon felt the grip on his burrito instinctively tighten at that, his right eye twitching somewhat in reaction.

No matter who said that, it only always reminded him of her.

He rose from the log he was seated on, spinning around angrily to where the plush horse was layed. If he wasn't too careful, his burrito would have slipped from his hand completely. "Will you stop saying that?!" Jon blurted out the question with a hint of anger in his voice, though he did his best to keep his emotions in check.

The pony glared at him for a few moments with it's beady, secretive eyes. Before it could respond with some snark comment or witty throwback, another emerged from the sands of the coasts shore.

"Jon" the King addressed him, prompting Snow to turn around to face him. "Whom were you speaking to?" Gilgamesh asked with curiosity, his head arching to the side slightly. Before Jon had a chance to answer, the King had pieced the logical reasoning for his plain annoyance together, and took a few steps toward where the Deadpony was splayed out.

"Ahh... was it this insufferable piece of garbage?" the King's brow raised as he delivered a demeaning stare down at his jest of a weapon, hands planted firmly on his hips. "Ahh, it is no matter. He shall be... disposed of, soon enough" the King smirked faintly. The red horse shot his owner a rather worried glance, it's white, pupil-less eyes going almost pleading and desperate. "Whaaaaat?! Hey, you can't get rid of me! I'm the cake bo-" before it could finish it's speech, Gilgamesh had pressed his gold-enforced boot down onto the pony's form, replacing his words with a simple wheeze of pain. "SILENCE!" the King of the Sands boomed. "Your king did not ask you to speak.." Gilgamesh let his words trail from his tongue, a triumphant smirk remaining as he stepped off from the plush toy, leaving it to cough, splutter and groan in agony. The King flicked and turned on his heel, pacing towards Jon, who bowed his head courteously.

"How fared your stroll across the beach, sire?" Jon inquired, head bobbing back upward as the King stood at an equal distance from him. "Well" the sand-king responded, that ever-cocksure trademark grin of his still spread upon his lips. "It fared very well..." he murmured as he slipped past Jon, inspecting the small, self-made encampment that had been laid out by his followers.

"Your grace.." Snow stifled a light cough as to grab the Kings attention, following after him. 'Where do we go next? the bastard inquired, inhaling sharply through his nose. Gilgamesh craned his head to look back at him. "That's yet to be decided, my bold knight. We must plan our movements more carefully and with more caution, from here on. Without the right level of discretion, we could be walking ourselves right into a danger zone" the King grunted, and Jon nodded his head in agreement. Not so long ago, Karl Jak had announced these 'danger zones' through whatever invisible, isle-wide speakerphone he was utilising. That anyone walking through the zones whilst they were active would their heads popped like a pimple due to the collars reactions... literally.

The King took a moment to ponder, before turning back to his loyal servant. "Rest up for now, Jon Snow. Regain your strength. Such planning can come later" Gilgamesh nodded, and Jon nodded back. Jon gave a slight bow as the King moved off, and reclaimed his seat upon the log, munching back into the cold burrito he'd been eating prior, and was still holding onto as he spoke with Gilgamesh.

Jon let his mind and being drift off to the sounds of the crashing waves and the smell of salt in the air as he ate, trying to enjoy at least one moment of peace and quiet amongst the chaos and the ruin.
[Image: tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png]

#28
My rest didn’t last long. Between the constant pain of my shattered arm and the grumble of my stomach. Stiff and sore I rolled over onto my good side, and stretched out across the warm white sand. This would have been a wonderful vacation spot if not for the threat of marauding primes. Exhaustion mixed with starvation did more than a number on the willpower. My broken arm was swollen and red, the ever-present pain was close to unbearable and the thought to amputate crossed my mind more than once. Almost absentmindedly I clutched the Darkshire crest that hung faithfully around my neck. In their darkest times I was supposed to be their light, but it seemed that our situation had been reversed. I imagined Dmitri was watching me right now, urging me to push forward.

I grinned.

I gritted my teeth and grinned through the pain and exhaustion and hopelessness. What a sorry sight, the Defender of Darkshire actually on the verge of surrender I thought and chuckled softly. With sluggish movements I managed to crawl back to my feet. “I need food” I groaned weakly, looking out towards the ocean. Fortunately I was raised in a fishing village and I knew how to tap into the great bounty of the sea. Unfortunately I had no fishing pool or net. Slowly I bent down and untied my boots, kicking them and my socks off into the sand. With rolled up pant-legs I wad out into the shallow water and kneeled down in a small inlet. The salt water stung at my wounds, but the gentle ebb and flow of the tide kept my calm through the pain. Slowly but surely fish began to swim by me, thinking of me as no more than a rock in the tide. My breathing was controlled and shallow, everything around me melted away until only I and the fish remained.

My father had taught me how to fish with my bare hands and I spent many summers perfecting the technique. Incredible amounts of focus and bodily control was needed to snag a fish from the water and fortunately I had ample amounts of both. Slowly I raised my good arm to my chest and tracked a silvery fish with my eyes. Faster than lightning I struck, and in a splash I had snagged the large fish and held it tight to my chest. Before it could slip out of my grip I ran onto the beach and smacked it hard against a rock, killing the poor creature.

Night was coming soon and I still needed to make a fire. Up the coast I saw a nice alcove to hide behind and cook my freshly caught meal. With a spring in my step I grabbed my boots and began to walk up the coast. Finally after so many setbacks I had finally succeeded. It was a small success, but a small success was large enough to fill my belly for the upcoming fights.
[Image: StrazSig.png]

[Image: DarkshireBadge.png][Image: DarkshireDefenseBadge.png][Image: SecondarySaga.png][Image: HerosGraveyardBadge.png]

#29
The ex-Turk stumbled blindly through the forest, crashing against low-hanging branches and bushy foliage. His senses had been reduced to only the simplest, most basic, reptilian essentials following his clash with the anthropomorphic rodent and the crimson-haired woman. Vincent had let his guard down around the innocent-looking duo, and this proved to be a grave mistake. He had not counted on the strange lighting power contained within her hammer, the same power that had robbed him of his sight and hearing. The rough feeling of gravely dirt on his shoeless feet told him he still had tactile senses, as did the occasional branch whipping at his face. The blood that he tasted in his mouth also provided information.

The pale Prime stopped after what felt like an hour of running, heaving moist breaths from his sore lungs. He didn't consider himself to be a coward, though facing two adversaries with formidable weapons with only rudimentary explosives seemed to be a pretty terrible idea. His stealth had afforded him the element of surprise, though it seemed that lightning was the stronger of the two elements. He now sat with his forehead pressed against the rough bark of a sturdy chestnut tree, confined to his world of static.

Wow, you look like shit.

Vincent swung around, trying to make out the source of the noise through the wall of whitenoise that squashed both sound and sight. He wondered for a moment if he had imagined it, the clear snarky voice somehow apparent despite his injury.

Yeah, you can hear me. I know it's weird, 4th wall and all. Why are you barefoot? You look like some kind of homeless Edward Scissorhands in that suit.

Confusion and anger pooled in Vincent's mind in equal measures. Was some psychic being probing his mind? He briefly considered pelting into the woods once more, perhaps placing still more distance between the pale prime and his psychic pursuer.

Hey Mark, I know you love alliteration and all, but that last one seems kinda half-assed. Now can you please reign in ol' Vinny here? He can't fucking see us.

The Prime froze where he was, attempting to get a better idea of where his attacker could be standing. He turned around, his back facing the tree, squinting hard at the haze.

Oh jeez, you're a pale one. What are you some kinda vampire? The blood you're spitting doesn't really help your case either. Whatever, just take a few steps forward. We won't hurt ya', kinda a dick move attacking a blind/deaf guy. And I do pride myself on class.

“Wha-” Vincent finally found his voice, “How are you...”

Probably best to not dwell on it, dude. Most people don't get it. Have a seat will ya'?

The Prime obeyed the order despite his better judgment; he had no other options. He could feel a soft tapping against the earth as he neared what he assumed was the source of the banter.

Yeah, sorry about that. Sas here is kinda impatient. Anyway, we saw you jump the mouse and the girl. Not too shabby considering the odds, and you get points for the explosions.

“Um...” Vincent responded, blinking hard in an attempt to relieve his blindness. It was coming back to him, slowly. It would seem that the lightning-enduced deficits would fade with time. Or so he hoped.

Yeah, Alex said it'd be like a day. Just suck it up for now. So, are you joining us or what?
[Image: G3vODOp.png]
Dante's Abyss '15
Participant
Vincent Valentine

[Image: oQAQ9Jn.png]
Dante's Abyss '16
Grand Champion
Nanaki/Red XIII

[Image: sfSJ19f.jpg]
(07-16-2018, 06:14 PM)Lord Zedd Wrote: I'm here to kick ass and write compelling stories with Vincent Valentine.

And baby, we're all out of Vincent Valentine.

#30
Well, that had proven eventful. Time was ticking slowly by as the crackle of lumber loomed over him. The Prime noted the weighted branches hanging by the threads above, the fact that he was utterly enclosed on the inside of a freshly spun shell, and deducted he was soon to be either crushed to oblivion or 'webbed' to death.

Had his skin come directly in contact with the string, he would have found it nearly impossible to rip free from. However, his mind was still stuck on the casualties of this battle: His leather boot, stuck in a hardened puddle of string, as well as a chunk of his cloak that was now worn by the tree.

The echoing creaks continued and Gildarts had few options to escape his jail-like confines. A spliced branch cracked and fell almost too close to him before delicately landing on his duffle. With a swift swipe he was able to snatch it before the dangerous and glue-like substance had a chance to mesh into it.

After he flung the duffle over his shoulder, he saw it. His solution to everything. In fact, it practically prodded him in the back. The stray branch that now snagged his cloak made him see the crashed and propped up branches as stairs. They were at an angle and not entirely covered in goo, so there was a chance the Prime could use the purple string shooters' own advantage to escape. The man with two prosthetic limbs climbed the layers of lumber up and hoped the height would be enough to take him over the walls that prevented him from escape.

The wobbling wreckage of their battle shook with his steps that pounded with heavy haste. A beat of his heart was skipped as he felt electricity surge into his bones and the branch beneath him caved. With a weak jump, the middle-aged mage managed to jump to the next before they too would crumble underneath his weight. With his last effort his body was flung into the trees, dodging the patches of string and scraping his bare foot against the jagged bark.

His descent was marked with an ungraceful fall, followed by a grunted, "Oof."

That had been too close.

Up, over, and now on the ground, he felt the sack shrugging off his shoulder. The Prime's good hand went to it, and he picked up the pointed half of his broken fish spear. It was bloodied with a purple mess and there was no way he could use it for something edible; still, it made a handy knife and the Prime wasn't willing to part with the sentimental object in which he had shared his first meal.

The man stood up with his bag loosely dangling on his stylish shoulder blades and decided it was time for a stroll.
[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus

#31
Face to Face
#05 Gilgamesh vs #∞ Deadpony

The pony glowered at him in anger as the King laughed cruelly on the stupid toy. The pony’s yelp of pain slowly turned into a growl as the knight walked away from the proud King and sat promptly on a log. The King was bemused by Jon’s ignorance and stupidity, oh how the times have changed from when he was originally King. Gilgamesh looked down at his boot to see the small stuffed animal was staring directly into his eyes with a sense of anger.

“Hey asshole pick me up!” Gilgamesh scoffed as he turned away his head looking towards the scent of the ocean. How crisp and salty the smell, how much it belonged to him.

“Don’t you dare you use such vulgar profanities towards your King?” He spat in the ponies direction and turned away. He didn’t have time for such games.

“Hey! Don’t you ignore me you spoiled brat! Just because you can’t protect your friend doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. Stop throwing a temper tantrum you little bitch before I wip that smug grin off of your face. Now you gold loving ass pick me up!” Gilgamesh’s jaw stood wide open at the amount of disrespect this cur had for his King and how he got such sensitive information.

The memory of Enkidu flashed back into his mind, him on his deathbed crumbling away into clay and mold. He desperately tried to piece back together the Clay-man but pieces of the man continued to break and fall away from him, piecing together and accumulating to the floor. He panicked and tried to pick up the hardened pieces on the floor before a hand touched his face. Tears were streaming down the King’s face as he looked into his friend’s almost lifeless eyes. Chunks of his cheekbone falling off as they made eye contact. Enkidu just slowly shook his head, pieces of himself flinging across the room.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to be afraid anymore. I am nothing in your life, just another item in your treasury.” The King couldn’t help but continue to bawl as his friend’s fingers began to fall off.

“You do have worth. You alone have this worth. I hereby declare: In all this world, only one shall be my friend. Thus---not for all eternity shall his worth ever change.” He managed to choke out in between sobs as he held onto Enkidu. The man’s green eyes were filled with hope and friendship before they too were nothing but piles of dust. Gilgamesh, who once thought that they two friends were immortal, was facing the dull realization that he will die and that he was facing this alone.

“Awww does Princess need a tissue?” A tear was running down Gilgamesh’s cheek and his eyes opened up in rage to the insensitivity of this cur! He went down and grabbed the plushie and brought it to his face.

“How dare you mock your King?! I shall make sure you suffer the worse punishments of hell.” His intimidating stare was broken by the plushy’s toy foot kicking into his face and knocking him to the ground. Dust kicked up as Gilgamesh was forced to the ground, his tears darkening the ground. “Why you insufferable mongrel!” The King’s eyes opened wide in anger, his crimson pupils burning with the rage of hell. He scrambled to get to his feet.

“I’ll teach you to respect me!” Gilgamesh eye’s peered at the toy as it sat there helpless. He closed his eyes with a sense of satisfaction. “Gates of Babylon.” The King outstretched his hand preparing to make a portal.

*ZAP* The King was on the floor his head spinning and his body aching from the giant shock he had received from the collar. His muscles felt strained and his vision, blurry. The distorted vision couldn’t stop him from seeing the smirk that was held on Deadpony’s face.

“Ughhhhh.” Gilgamesh darted his head to the right to see the Queen wake from her slumber. Her face was confused as she saw Gilgamesh next to a toy pony. “What’s going on here and why do you have a black eye?” His hand rushed to his eye and felt pain as he put pressure on it. Damn The pony’s smirk grew wider as the King frantically found an answer.

“I had merely tripped.”

Gilgamesh has a bruised eye and a bruised Ego-Major Injury (+0 DMG)
Deadpony used "Abuse of Tragic Backstory-(10 SP)
[Image: GilgameshDAsig_zpsecqjfngm.png][Image: NB_BadgeRight.png][Image: RhzfCY6.gif] - Credit to Ezzy

#32
Victor Wolfe felt a sense of satisfaction, the boredom of the solitude had been broken and he had made his first kill since coming to this world, he took a moment to admire his work. " It was a pretty clean kill, four fast hits from this extendable pole, not as messy as my daggers tend to be, and considering how long I was stabbing the last person I used them on, pretty effective. Maybe I can find more creative uses for this, perhaps use its extendability to pole vault over distances or avoid attacks. All in all a good days work so far, now what to do about the body?"

Victor examined the fresh corpse in front of him, an old man , not the finest kill ever but as he did sign up for the survival game Wolfe would have no weight on his conscience, he knew that there was a very real chance someone would kill him, and must have known that to win he would have to end another's life, making him someone who Wolfe would be perfectly fine killing.

Picking up the survival kit that the man was carrying Wolfe took inventory, more water, always useful as dehydration can be as deadly as a knife to the throat, or a pole to the face in this case. More MRE's, at least he would not go hungry anytime soon, even if the meals do taste like candle wax.

What really struck Wolfe was what else was in the bag, he recognised what it was right away, " Oh this is going to be good, just the sort of thing I wanted, looks like this is going to be a very good week for me" Wolfe said with a sadistic grin. He packed the contents of the dead man's bag into his own and before throwing it away looked at the name tag,"Seraph eh, well Mr. Seraph if you had not been sneaking around so much and announced yourself I may not have had to kill you, unfortunately for you, sneaking around an assassin can be hazardous to your health, you just learned that the hard way, good night, maybe when this is over I will meet you again and you can hear the constructive criticism I am giving you." Victor said to the body of the now dead Seraph.

" Are you done talking to the corpse? Because something gives me the hunch that it is not going to start answering back, and if it does that it's going to be a short conversation ending with you hitting it with that pole again" Wolfe's inner voice said sarcastically.

Wolfe dragged the body over to the nearest tree leaning it up against it, "there now your body will have a nice place to rot away, and this tree gets some nice fertilizer, it's a win-win situation." Wolfe walked away leaving the now empty bag next to the dead Seraph.

Now the last thing that the dying man said had been plaguing Victor's mind, why would he apologise, was this Gilgamesh his friend, relative, lover? Victor remembered hearing idle gossip in the barracks about a powerful entrant with the same name. " So you must have been one of his followers then, and if you are apologising for dieing then he must command a high level of fear or respect from you, I wonder if he will be angry that I killed you?" Victor thought about this for a while realising that pissing of one of the most powerful people on the island was probably not a very smart idea.

"Well in my line of work the fact that you are dead just means that the Gilgamesh has a vacancy that I could lend my services to fill, after all what good leader in history has not needed the services of an assassin every once in a while, who knows maybe once this week is over I will have stable employment" Victor laughed at the thought, He did not want to go back to the wasteland again, last time he was there he was humiliated.

Victor decided to keep moving, his strategy had clearly worked for him so far, one kill and not even a scratch on him.
[Image: LMLzBQ4.gif][Image: psgGbSy.png]                                                                                                                                [Image: 2lvxt0w.gif]

#33
Face to Face
#22 Neal vs #45 Blackfire, #05 Gilgamesh & #33 Jon Snow

Neal limped further into the city. He hadn’t bothered to make sure he wasn’t going to get stampeded by anymore space marines, but he was certain he’d killed the guy. While the blood from the nails had dried, the fresh wounds from the bolter rifle had yet to stop free-flowing through his clothes and onto the pavement.

“This sucks,” Neal mumbled as he clutched the remnant of the Uno Shield.

“It’s about to get much worse.” A brash voice shouted as the bloodied prime spun around and ate a fist to the side of the head. Neal’s knees hit the ground, but he shoved himself forward in an attempt to create some separation between himself and Gilgamesh, who sneered as his victim scrambled toward the alley.

Before he could escape, someone sprung out from behind the building and bashed him in the face with a shovel. Neal coughed up blood and bits of teeth, but he was a man possessed by little more than adrenaline at this point. Lifting a finger, the man formed a gun and blasted the dark-haired woman away with a mind bullet. Blackfire winced as her feet left the ground and her lithe figure crashed against a fire escape ladder.

Crouching down, Neal grabbed the woman’s shovel and turned to confront the gilded monarch with the wild blonde hair and the sinister gaze.

“You would strike me down with a shovel, Peasant?” Gilgamesh sneered as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “I find your gall amusing.”

“Well it’s got this little sharp part here,” Neal replied as he gestured toward the serrated edge of the survival shovel. “I bet that’ll make a big mess when I use it to tear your throat open.”

“I find that vermin always fight the most when they’re about to be exterminated,” Gilgamesh roared as he rushed forward and threw another punch at the bloody, resilient prime. Although he lacked the finesse of some of the other combat-trained primes, Neal had enough common sense to stumble backwards to avoid the king’s right cross. Having avoiding broken face bones for the time being, the man stepped forward and swung the shovel like a baseball bat at the side of Gilgamesh’ face.

The distinct thwack that the survival tool made as it bashed against the king’s head was loud enough to be heard by a semi-conscious Blackfire ten yards removed from the scene of the skirmish.

“How’s that feel?” Neal shouted as he swung the hammer back over his own head and readied to bring the serrated edge crashing down onto Gilgamesh’s cranium.

Before he could bring the weapon down, the prime saw a flash of black from the corner of his eye. A beat later, there was an arrow embedded in his right lung. As Neal watched, more of his blood started to squirt out from the sides of the metal shaft impaled through his body. His arms dropped down to his sides, but he managed to somehow hold onto the shovel, even though it now felt like it weight a hundred pounds.

“That looks like it hurts,” Gilgamesh remarked as he grabbed the arrow and ripped it out from Neal’s body. As the serrated tip emerged from a now enlarged wound, fresh blood started to bubble and spew forth. “Oh yes… this looks like hurt!” Gilgamesh punctuated the insult by stabbing the arrow through Neal’s other lung. The prime teetered but refused to go down. His half-glazed eyes tried their hardest to burn holes through Gilgamesh. “It’s better if you accept it.”

“Fuck you.” With a grunt, Neal summoned up a mouthful of saliva and spit it into the face of the king with every ounce of defiance his spent body could muster. Gilgamesh recoiled and let loose a string of obscenities as a weak smile spread across the face of the dying prime.

A beat later, a second arrow punched through Neal’s forehead.

From his vantage point, Jon Snow let out a sigh as he watched the corpse crumple into a heap in front of his king.

#22 Neal DEAD
39 Primes Remain

Blackfire has a cracked vertebra -- Minor Injury (+4 Damage)
Gilgamesh has a bruised f*cking face -- Minor Injury (+1 Damage)

The Uno Cards are done.
[Image: KarlSig.jpg]

#34
For a second, the group mulled over Harry’s question—watch in pairs or alone? Letting someone go alone would allow the other three to rest, and hopefully that meant the majority of the team would be reinvigorated if someone happened to stumble upon them again, like the black-haired man had happened upon Mickey and Erza. But then again, they had just met the other group, so Mickey had to wonder if he and his crimson-haired partner should be putting their lives solely in Dresden’s hands this soon.

“I’ll watch with ya,” Mickey offered, getting up. Harry nodded, a tiny smile cracking on his serious-looking face.

“Sure, what the hell,” he shrugged, “I’ll feel a little safer with Mickey Mouse watching my back, that’s for sure.” He headed out to the other side of the clearing, while Erza and Samus resumed their rest.

* * *

For the most part, Harry and Mickey’s watch went rather peacefully. Mickey had charged up his gauntlet, just in case, and Harry kept his big gun at the ready. Though they had both been wide awake for almost eighteen hours now, they knew that they had to keep themselves ready for anything. At any moment, one of the competition’s more violent hunters could end up right in the middle of their little quartet, and if Samus or Erza got hurt on their watch, the boys would never forgive themselves.

Of course… Mickey already didn’t know if he could forgive himself for entering this game in the first place. He had hashed this argument out with himself over and over again, but after that red-suited man had been brutally murdered by the green guy, he had started to rethink everything he had been doing up until that point. Why, he wondered, had he even agreed to support this gosh-awful contest in the first place? It thrived on broadcasting bloody, bloody violence to hundreds of thousands of people throughout this Omniverse, and he had entered it for the sake of saving one measly little village.

Did that make him noble? Trading the lives of forty-five other competitors so that the citizens of Bree could build a wall? And even if he hadn’t murdered anyone yet himself, four names had still been called out by Karl Jak just a few short hours ago. Four peoples’ lives this island had already claimed, and if he were being honest, he and Erza probably could have saved at least one of them.

For now, then, he would be content protecting his teammates. That was the least he could do, for the moment. And that, he supposed, started with trusting them. He looked up at the tall, rugged-looking man sharing the watch with him, and let out an almost inaudible sigh. Harry heard him, though, and his eyes shifted away from watching the forest down to his miniature companion. “Something on your mind, little buddy?” The mouse shifted his weight a little bit, taking a couple of steps away from Harry.

“Nah,” he lied a little bit, shooting a smile up at the man. “Just…” He trailed off, and then it dawned on him that he actually did have something he wanted to ask his new companion. “…how is it, exactly, that you know of me?” The King had encountered far too many people in this new home of his that recognized him for this to be some sort of coincidence.

In fact, it was kind of starting to worry him.

“Uh,” Harry started, lowering his gun for a second. Mickey knew that it had to be tough, carrying around such a gargantuan death machine like that. “Well, I mean… I saw you. On TV.”

Mickey’s eyes grew just a bit wider. “…excuse me?”

“Yeah, tons of times when I was a kid,” the man continued, “you were, like… on a boat, in one of them, and then there was this really cool one where you made a bunch of brooms come to life—”

“Alright, stop, this is getting really creepy,” the mouse waved the discussion away. He wished he had never asked. How, in the gosh-darn world, did Harry know about all of these things that had happened to him? Did he know about Minnie? What about Donald, Goofy, Pluto, or Daisy? How many other people knew? The mouse furrowed his brow and turned away from Harry, who, in the absence of any more polite conversation with the mouse, had begun to whistle. Mickey’s ears perked up at the tune, and after a minute, Harry started to lightly hum some of the words instead of just whistling the tune.

“Plenty of sunshine, headin’ my way…”

Mickey spun around. “How do you know our national anthem?!
[Image: 2agonyw.png]

#35
The trip was short, but by the time Deadpool and Sasuke made it back to the Naruto character’s campsite, the pale blue sky of early morning had begun to assimilate into the bright rise of midday; the sun stood atop the distant mountain range and kissed the entire island with a strong yellow gloss. Camp had been established in a small circular clearing of the forest where two logs laid perpendicular to one another, facing a pile of charred wood.

“I found someone, Crona!” the black-haired teenager exclaimed as he trotted over to a boy laying on one of the logs. “How’re you doing?” He took a knee and analyzed his comrade’s severe burns with worried eyes. “I thought it would be best to come back before I trailed off too far.”

The pink-haired boy replied with a cracked eye and faint smile. “I’m alive.” His voice was dry and raspy, but as he noticed the mercenary over Sasuke’s shoulder it strengthened and both eyes opened wide. “Who is he?”



Wow, two anime characters, who woulda thought? That was sarcasm by the way.



“Someone that’s strong enough to help,” Sasuke replied with conviction, “that’s who.”

“I’m Crona,” the boy said. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and winced. “Wish I could meet you on better terms.”

”So you’re the guy that went B00M, huh?” Deadpool bantered. ”At least it was a fun read.”

Deadpool revealed a toothy smile through the rips in his mask as Crona took warmly to his humor. “Yeah, not worse than a venereal burn, though,” the boy quipped and then shot a wink. He looked back over towards Sasuke. “Any info on the guy who got me?”

”Who, Jak?” Deadpool interjected; both anime characters turned their sights to him and raised a brow. ”Last time I checked the thread he was basking in his victory over Alain. Even got a Pokèball out of it.”

Thread?” Sasuke replied with the same dick-look visage that most people did when Deadpool spoke his nonsense. He tried to make sense of the word, but gave up. “What else do you now?”

Deadpool’s engraved cheeks bulged out of the rips in his mask (Fuck you Retane, too many alias-using prick) Oh, there was so much he could tell Sasuke—his future, what happens to Itachi, the fact that he’s a fictional character—but knew most of it would only ruin the teenager’s psyche. ”Enough, my anime friend,” he replied, ”enough.”

Sasuke turned to Crona and looked into the boy’s eyes. “What do you say about him joining us?”

Crona nodded back. “I’m all for friends,” he replied. He tried to stand, but after a series of teethed groans he stayed put. “What now? We just gonna wait for someone to ambush us?”

“I don’t know. What do you think, Deadpool?” Sasuke looked up at the mercenary. His eyes were filled with caution, but also open-mindedness.



I sense another fictioneer using me in a post! God, what’s this, like the 4th person (Alex, Bryan, Mark, and Marc—sounds like a lawfirm!)? I’m getting passed around like a damn blow-up doll in a room full of prepubescent boys!! I hope they don’t find my secret hole!



”We’re gonna wait for one more person, Deadpool replied matter-of-factly. ”Someone’s gonna be here soon—before evening.” He smiled, thought of a good joke, and blabbered it out: ”He’s not from a manga like you guys are, but he’s a Jap all the same.”

“So what do we do til then?” Sasuke inquired. The doubt within him grew, but he tried to curtain it.

”Technically, he’s already here. It just makes more In-Character sense if we give him a proper entrance.” Sasuke tried to manufacture a response, but before he could the mercenary continued: ”Let’s just chill for like an hour—eat some food, maybe share stories about how we lost our virginities—and wait, ok?”

Sasuke looked to his comrade for approval, and was given it in the form of a single, affirming nod. “Alright then,” Sasuke answered, “we wait a little longer for your friend. Then we go.”



I Like Crona. He’s cool. Maybe I’ll help him out with his possession problems after DA.



The group of Primes shared a meal together around the charred piles of woods, and discussed their pre-Omniverse lives. Sasuke told his sob story about betrayal, and how he was snatched from a Chuunin Exam. Crona talked about his past as well (though Deadpool was too busy destroying his vegan MRE—it had been a long time since he ate out of necessity), only lightly dabbing into his personal issues.



It’s funny how all anime characters either have this really dark past, or all happy-go-lucky like Goku, Luffy, or Naruto. Such bland characters!



“What about you?” Crona asked as he clamped his thumb and index around a ball of dough. “What’s your story, Deadpool?”

”Well, before I came here I was in the middle of a mission,” Deadpool replied. He took a sip from Aquafina—funny how Pepsi-man has just polluted the Danteverse, huh?—and then looked up at the clear sky. ”I was with some buddies—and a loser name Bob—and we were searching for this dude name Kid Omega, which is weird because it makes no fucking Marvel sense, whatsoever. But anyways, I was snatched right in the middle of it. Met Greg, IC, and since then I’ve been here.”

“Omniverse is a weird place indeed,” Sasuke replied. “I’ve encountered some weird ninjas so far, and I know even more are out there. Maybe even Itachi.”



Yeah right. Not unless someone joins as him or Marc grows the balls the NPC him. Good luck with that one.



“So,” Crona spoke up, “what’s your weapon anyways?” The question was directed towards Deadpool.

”Let’s just say some assembly is required,” the mercenary replied. The two teenagers seemed trustworthy enough, but Deadpool could sense Baron’s restraint to reveal any more information.

The pink-haired boy’s eyes lit up like the Chinese New Year. “Sounds good!”

“We got company,” Sasuke interrupted. His eyes darted to the far end of the clearing where two trees merged together by the base, twisting around each other until they both branched out. He slid his hand into his bag. “Be ready.”

As Deadpool followed the ninja’s stare he smiled. ”Relax, that’s your fellow countryman!

“You’re the voice I heard,” the pale man said as he emerged from behind the siamese trees. His clothes were tarnished, his chest was badly injured, and his shoes were missing; but he was alive.



Vincent fuckin’ Valentine, the most emo of all Final Fantasy characters—now there are more Japs around me than Pearl Harbor.

Dante's Abyss Placings
2015 - 4th
2016 - 2nd
2017 - 4th


PVP Combat Record
(One-on-One)
3W - 0L - 0D
(TAG-TEAM)
4W - 1L - 0D
[Image: Deadpool_Funny.png]

#36
Okor looked up from his work, setting down the shrapnel caltrops and gazing through the crack in the barricaded windows. Along the horizon, puffs of black smoke could be seen. He almost disregarded it, until he discerned the pattern. Legion code! Snapping to attention as fast as his decomposing frame would allow, he shoved himself against the window, his eye feverishly soaking up every detail. The sorcerer was coming! His faith would be validated! Snatching up his sharpened piece of steel, he pushed apart the double doors of the clinic, and rooting himself in front of the entrance.

He would be glad to see his brother, but the pressing question was the status of his brother. Simply staying put in this small building had dragged them into an extended skirmish, and Tartaros may not last through the night. Had Galel suffered a similar fate? Sinking one of the two sharpened points of his spear into the ground, he gazed out towards the smoke. He could not afford to abandon his brother, and Tartaros was one of the Legions of old. Surely, he could make his way to the clinic without suffering a mortal wound? Nurgle knows they'd suffered enough as late...

An idea coming across him, he brought one of the spear's tips to his abdomen. The mortals had drawn blood, which was detestable. But, it allowed him a new avenue of warfare. Cautiously dipping the point through the scabbed wounds, he coated the sharpened end in blood, the clear liquid swimming with life. The mortals would come to regret crossing him. They may meet their end at the hands of man's greatest creation, or his greatest patron. It mattered not to him. Either way, he was determined to turn at least one of them into nothing more than fertilizer. Let the worms feast on their flesh, let the fungi bloom on their bones. Let the rot fester in their hearts.

Let them know the truth.
[Image: DarkshireDefenseBadge.png][Image: HerosGraveyardBadge.png][Image: DA15Badge.png]

#37
Tartaros arose from the temporary table he was laid out on, the remains of Mr. T still in his hand, and stared around hazily. The table we was currently sitting on was odd... more like a temporary construct, cobble together out of whatever materials the creator could find, covered with what seemed to be rough linen and splattered with blood... Clearly someone had been busy...

Looking around the room however, his location became obvious... the clinic! The room was almost pure white, disregarding some obvious stains of blood and muck on the floor, presumably left by Okor after he dragged the marine into this damned place... Ah well, better here than dead in the field...

Finally Tartaros gently placed the remains of Mr. T into his tattered bag hopped from the bed... directly onto his right leg...

*KRAK*

"Emperor damn it all...", the marine thought to himself, attempting to fix his leg back into place, before crudely bandaging the wound through a hold in his armour and limping down the corridor. Finally, the Luna Wolf came across a mirror...

He was a complete and utter mess, covered in blood and filth... his helmet was damaged completely beyond recognition, dented and missing both its lenses. Well, the lenses were more cracked than anything else... no thanks to that building landing on his head... His chestplate wasn't much better for wear either, covered in scratch marks and slashes. The gauntlets and greaves had by far received the worst of the damage, one gauntlet missing complete, with nothing but a bloodied stump in its place, and the other chipped, with some marks even reaching the flesh... Finally, the greaves, both were an utter mess, twisted and broken beyond all belief, the front plating had all but been smashed off the right, and the left was left bleeding and chipped.


After reaching the bottom floor, Tartaros looked around, finding nothing but barricades and junk throughout. Eventually though, he found a suitable replacement "weapon" for the lost driftwood. Two somewhat blunt metallic stakes, seemingly torn from a chair leg. The marine quickly pulled them out from the makeshift stockade, and crudely tied them to his arm stump with a roll of leftover medical tape, before proceeding his slow limp throughout the grounds.

Finally, there was that same repugnant smell coming from the hall as there was in the barracks... Okor. Tartaros limped forward along the hall as fast as he could, eventually coming within eyeshot of the decrepit titan, laying down a set of caltrops, he waved. "Hello?... O-Okor?!"

#38
Fire was difficult to create without any supplies, but Mara had taught me several useful tricks. Even with my survivalist training it was difficult to build a fire with one arm. Eventually I was able to get the beginnings of a fire and silently cheered to myself. The next step was preparing the fish. I had no desire to eat scales or guts, but I lacked a knife to prepare it. I crawled towards the edge of the beach and shifted through the sand and rocks. A nice sharp piece of shale or something would do the trick and I was fortunate enough to find one.

Preparing the fish was easy, I had done it a million times in my youth and it was like riding a bike. You run the blade against the scales, peeling them off and then you cut the fish down the belly and remove the unwanted innards. All-in-all it took me only a few minutes to prep the fish and throw it on the fire. Rather than sit and waste time watching the fire I decided to try and find a makeshift weapon. I took a few moments to grab a long thick stick from the nearby treeline. It was about five feet long and incredibly straight, almost a perfect spear. I checked my food and then began to whittle the end of the stick into a point using my sharp rock.

There was something calming about the whole scenario. It had been a while since I had to camp out in the woods and it brought back nostalgia. Mara and I had roamed the wilderness for years, the cities didn’t take too kindly to a rogue hexbreaker and magus so we had to live off the land. In those years we had grown close, closer than I had ever been with someone, except for maybe Valerie. We knew each other inside and out, it was almost as if we were siblings. We were battle brother and sister, bonded with the single purpose of hunting down Damien Alabaster.

My nostalgia trip was cut short as I noticed my fish began to burn. With my good hand I pulled it from the fire and set it on a nearby rock to cool. The half-burnt fish smelled delicious and my stomach twisted in knots with anticipation. As the cruel mistress fate would have it I wasn’t the only one that thought the fish smelled divine. A deep growl made my skin crawl as I looked behind me. A snarling wolf had stumbled upon my campsite and decided that my cooked food was his.

“Oh come on, fuck off you mangy bastard” I growled right back at the beast. It was none too impressed by my failed attempt at dominance and it lunged. I had managed to turn around before the wolf had bowled me over. I offered my busted arm to its snarling maw and it gladly chomped down. A bloodcurdling scream erupted from my throat as the wolf tried to tear the flesh from my broken arm. Running on pure instinct and adrenaline I reached out for something -- anything to defend myself. I gripped a nearby stick from the fire and without hesitation I bashed the beast against the head, sending cinders everywhere. The blow dazed the wolf and allowed me to crawl away from it before it could steady itself. I kicked at the beast and tried to do my best to keep it at bay. “I’ll rip your fucking throat out!” the beast had pissed me off, but despite my impotent rage the snarling wolf did not stop its assault. The creature backed off to ready another lung and I dove for my newly fashioned spear. It leaped forward at a blinding speed and with a silent prayer I raised my spear towards it.

A pathetic yelp called out as the beast impaled itself on my weapon. Warm blood dripped on my chest and I breathed a sigh of relief. I heaved the beast off of me and stabbed it one more time for good measure before the adrenaline faded and the pain hit me like a truck. My arm was in worse shape than before and it hurt more than anything I had ever experienced. I curled into a ball and gritted my teeth, trying to internalize the pain.

“Why can’t I catch a fucking break?” I whimpered pathetically and rolled over onto my back. There was a silver lining however, I now had enough food to last me for days. Wolf meat wasn’t exactly ideal, but I couldn’t afford to be picky. Fuck my arm, at least I had food and a weapon. Night was coming and I crawled back over to my fire. As much as the warmth of a fire would be comforting I couldn’t afford to be spotted while I slept. I kicked sand onto the blaze to extinguish it and began to tear into my cold fish. It tasted like sand and fire, but at least my belly stopped grumbling.
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#39
“There goes the sun, Ladies and Gentle-primes!” Karl snickered through the intercom system. On the island, the sun was beginning to set, and in a few places, it was starting to gently rain. “I’m happy to see you all finally decided to get dirty. The fallen are as follows:

#16 Gin Yatreg
#07 Seraph
#22 Neal

And now we have some splendid new Danger Zones…

E5
J5
D3
H3
B6

Also, a little birdy told me that there’s a hurricane that’s supposed to hit the island near midnight. You better head indoors or to high ground if you don’t want to have to deal with that.



Did you think I was finished? The good folks here at Syntex have ‘sponsored’ another wonderful gift for you all – a parcel not only containing a crisp, refreshing bottle of Diet Mountain Dew but also a lovely little Medical Kit and a picnic basket of MREs. The parcel will be dropped at the Lighthouse.

See you at midnight!"


Quote:Everyone may move up to 3 spaces again -- try to title your PM 'Day 1 Evening Moves/Queue.'

This phase (and Day 1 as a whole) will end tomorrow, May 29th at 7:00 PM CDT

Weather – It is raining across the top half of the island (Row 5 and up)

Easter Egg Event - As with the last easter egg event, you just need to send me a PM titled ‘Easter Egg’ that includes what you want to queue up. As with the last one, these are a very high risk, high reward situation. The prize this time is not one but TWO items – the Diet Mountain Dew and the Medical Kit (the MREs are obviously an rp prize).

Tidal Wave/Hurricane[b] - If you character/group is standing on a square that is more than half green at the end of Day 1 or not at a square with a building, they will be caught in[b] Hurricane Karl. See the discussion thread for all safe squares.
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#40
Harry stopped his humming and looked at Mickey, shocked. National anthem? He started to laugh, but he managed to contain it, mostly. The wizard still laughed, but it was much quieter. Mickey looked at him, questioningly. "Why are you giggling? It isn't funny!" Harry managed to choke out a response between laughs. "Wizards don't giggle. This is cackling." Harry reigned in his gigg- cackle fit and the pair returned to silence for a little while, before Mickey spoke up again to fill the void.

"I know magic too, ya know." Harry looked askance at the mouse. "Really? I thought that thing with the brooms was just because of the hat!" The mouse shook his head, a smile on his face now. "Not entirely. The hat helps, but it's because it's my master's hat and it helped me power the spell I put on the brooms." Harry let out an impressed whistle. "Not bad. I tried to animate a broom once and it kicked dirt everywhere instead of just sweeping. I don't have a lot of finesse." Mickey chuckled a bit at the image of a broom chasing the towering, duster-clad wizard around a house, but Harry cut him off. "But at least I could stop the broom." The mouse gave him a look of false hurt. "Hey, I've gotten better."

Harry looked out into the forest as the sun waned and Karl Jak's voice echoed through the woods. The part about the danger zones interested him, and while there was still light he repeated the trick he'd done previously, committing them to memory by associating them with the map. The part about the medkit being deposited at the lighthouse... that got the wizard moving. "Come on, Mickey." The wizard started back to the campsite at a brisk walk, not running for the benefit of the mouse and for the fact that they had enough time to walk. He explained on the way. "We need that medkit. Samus and Erza are all kinds of screwed up." And I want to give Ganondorf a piece of my mind about turning that magic of his on another person. The wizard's demeanor seemed to shift slightly, becoming more determined and colder as Winter gained more of a hold on him in the dropping temperature and his rising irritation. His shoulder didn't seem to bother him at all in that state of mind, though he wasn't actively drawing on the Mantle's power. "You want to see some fire magic, Mickey?"
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