[b]BEFORE YOU POST, CHECK OUT THE OOC[/b]

If you want to know what the events were before the beginning of this continuing story, you can read it [url=http://rpneverdies.forumotion.com/t16-playground-of-the-omniverse-ic]here[/url]

[center][b]~+-+-+~[/b][/center]

[hider=Meanwhile, in The Crossroad...]

[i]While the overlying chaos continues loom over the city of Tutmose, the wheels continue to turn in ever growing struggle for power. While the citizens of this grand city are largely oblivious to this underlying game, events have unfolded to lead to paths of fate and destiny...

A two souled god split apart, evil and good incarnated wandering The Crossroad. However, in a twist of events, Evil keeps their body, seeding chaos and spite as Good is forced to work with a soul thief in an attempt to return whole to the physical world...

A master of stories returns home in the wake of a rescue. But a cruel fate rips rescuer from damsel in distress, leaving the man to desperately search for her, only to collide with an unexpected being...

A pair of lovers continues to make a home in The Crossroad, meeting new faces and discovering true faces of others...

A hunter of the night unexpectedly finds himself paired with the oddest of traveling companions after creating a feud with a coven of witches...

A traveler of time and space finds himself stranded in the Crossroads. New faces he discovers, but under the spell of love, he finds his future questionable...

But where will these paths lead...?
[/hider]

[center][b][i]~IN THE BEGINNING~[/i][/b]
[i]Time: Second Hour of MiddleDay[/i][/center]

[i]Old Boar's Inn; Lobby[/i]
[b][Kresnik/Locien[/b]

The elf's head would tilt to the side, his hat's bells tinkling as he moved. "Well, mate..." A small, sly smile would tug at the side of his face as his silver tongue danced, "That's why I stepped out to lend a hand. 'Cause you ain't just a 'No Name,' you were bred for this." A wrapped hand would gesture in a up down motion, "I mean, look at ye. You're..." The hand would spin, as if trying to scoop the right word into his mouth. Alas, he could not find it, so the bard pushed it away with a carefree gesture as he continued to speak. However, as if by some magic, the bard's voice became one of that of some ageless muse of gods, deep and epic. "This is how legends and epics begin. In some shack in the middle of a mess of a city, and then uh..." His hazel eyes pointedly looked at Kresnik, "A man of greatness is born." 

With a shake of his head (and consequentially, his hat's bells), the elf's gesturing hand tapped on the wooden surface of the sturdy table. "Right, but, seeing that we're going to be spending an extraordinary amount of time together in the days ahead... My original promise with the original intent and lure of curiosity." With a tugging of his cap's tassel, he looked into the hunter's eyes, a voice followed the bard's next words. It would be engraved into minds of those who had heard it, forever to be remembered for all time, "My name is Locien Werethden."

[center]----[/center]

[i]The Old Boar's Inn; Bar[/i]
[url=http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/sharkman_2588.jpg]Bruce[/url] would stand for a moment before Missile and Pullo. However, their slight pause of silence, Bruce would give a smile (which in reality, would be more terrifying than actually friendly) as his deep bass voice gave out hearty laugh, "I'll give you guys a minute, eh? Just lemme know if you want something." With a slight nod, he would turn his back, cleaning something behind the bar, leaving the lovers to the devices...

[center]++++[/center]

[i]???[/i]
[b][Alec][/b]

Alec's sense would be dampened - impossibly dampened. Everything around him - the bed, the wooden floor, even the light that trickled through the lone window was fuzzy, murky. It could be considered disorienting, or frightening, as it seemed that blindness threatened overcome Alec at any moment. For the next several minutes, everything would be still - so quiet that it could be considered maddening. The silence would be deafening, threatening to crash over the demigod like a tsunami. The air around him tasted and felt warm, then cold, then flaming hot, and then freezing cold. The temperature never stayed the same, wrapping around him, whipping his skin, scalding his flesh. But of all his senses, his nose would be tormented - a stench of the dead, the sick, and the rotting filled his senses, impossible to escape.

Or it seemed for a door appeared behind him. Perhaps a way of escape, but for every step he took towards the opening of freedom, the room contorted and stretched, as if mocking the demigod's attempts to escape...

[center]+~+~+[/center]

[center][b][i]~LONG LIVE THE KING~[/i][/b]
[i]Time: Second Hour of MiddleDay[/i][/center]

[i]???; Gerald's Home[/i]
[b][Halcyon/TSM/Gerald][/b]

At the dark god's remarks, Gerald's mouth opened as if to angrily respond, but the fluid dark voice of Halcyon caused the thief to silently close it once more, though it was clear by his violet eyes that Gerald was still smoldering. But in the inner machinations of Clockwerk, the wheels were turning. This powerful being had enemies? It was surprising, after all. Usually, such things with such great power often had eliminated threats or annoyances, but...

"...Indeed, he will not." With a none-to-gentle gesture, the blade was removed from The Story Master's neck, leaving a thin bloody line across his neck as the weapon was slickly returned to its scabbard. "But a question, my dear fellow," The words were followed by a swift jab of the cane to Tyros' chest. "Where did you come from?" A step closer, "Why are you here, and!" Gerald was practically nose to nose, the last question spilling slowly from his mouth, like wet silk, "For the love of the gods, where did you get that coat?"

Before Gerald's new guest could answer, Gerald brushed past him and came nose to nose with the dark god, finger pointing directly under Halcyon's chin, "And you, sah -- we shall have words late about guests and the like." Spinning on his heel, he quickly floated across the wooden floor to the rustic chair once more, plopping down it, leg propped on his lap, and sipping the tea delicately before looking up at Halcyon once more, "And this Blixxy fellow? Who is he, old chap?"