Double

Dragon Ball: Shattered Worlds

@Iceheart @vancexentan @King Kindred @KillamriX88

It wasn't long before Ovaan found himself soaring above a familiar landscape. It was the peculiar mushroom desert that he had originally awoken in. Deciding this was far enough, he descended and eventually landed fairly close to the very spot he'd awoken at. Hearing nothing but the wind, and feeling nothing but the sun blazing down on him, Ovaan took a deep breath. He still wasn't entirely sure why he said what he had said back there. At least, not why he had said it aloud like that. He kept it no secret all this time that his actions while serving under the banner of Freeza still ate at him. He could sometimes still see the faces of the conquered when he closed his eyes at night, and could still hear their cries of terror.

But at this point that may as well have been a lifetime ago. He'd thought for sure he had moved on by now, after all it'd been a while since the last time he'd had such a nightmare or flashback. But then the realization came to him in moments. It was surviving as a fugitive, and eventually planning out the imminent battle against the Freeza Force that had kept him from thinking about his past actions. They were a distraction from it, as it were. But now? Now there was nothing keeping him from thinking about it all. At least not yet.

Ovaan concentrated his energy into lifting up a hunk of earth that floated high above him. Then he thrust a palm upward and blasted the hunk with a small blast that broke it into small chunks that started raining down toward the ground. Without even really thinking about it, Ovaan went on the move. At incredible speeds he appeared here and there around the chunks of earth, firing off quick Death Beams from his fingertips at them as they fell to the Earth, incinerating them. In fact he was fast enough that he managed to destroy all the pieces before even a single one hit the ground, and then his three-pronged feet touched the ground as he landed. This wasn't the first time he'd done such an exercise, in fact it was one he had done many times before. It was a great way to ensure he was always accurate and precise with those Death Beam shots, since in battle missing by even an inch could spell the difference between victory or death.

But that was only the warm up. Ovaan now reached into his bio-suit for the capsule that contained his new ship and deployed it nearby. It was time to see what gravity training felt like. He'd done plenty of training in normal environments and even some harsh ones, but never under increased G-forces, so this would prove to be an interesting experiment. The hatch opened and Ovaan entered, immediately making his way toward the gravity controls. Having fiddled with them previously, he had a basic grasp of how to use them. He knew he could input a static gravity setting, and decided to set it to 10g to start off. But he also knew the gravity settings could be programmed to gradually alter the G-forces either upward or downward at periodic intervals based on user input. So after Ovaan had done some warm up stretches, he programmed such a routine for the gravity settings. He set them to increase the G-forces by 10 every hour with 10g remaining as the starting point, and setting the maximum level to 100 so as not to completely overwhelm him. And after that was when the real training began.

It felt fairly simple at first. For the first couple of hours, Ovaan could only feel slight differences in the gravity as he performed strikes with his fists, feet, and even Nova Saber. But once the Gravity reached 40-50g, that was when he began noticing how heavy his body was becoming. His movements became slower as he was now having to move while effectively being weighed down by tons of extra weight thanks to the G-forces. It wasn't impossible, but Ovaan did begin to legitimately wonder much more his body could withstand, and whether the 100g level cap was too high to start off with.

S̴T̴O̴R̴M̴C̴L̴O̴A̴K̴ : Rise of Tyranny (SHELVED, PM or DM me for inquiry.)

Falkreath, 10th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 205

It was a dour morning in Falkreath. The City had just come off of a near-three-day constant rain. Great for the wildlife and the farms, not so great for anyone unfortunate enough to not have a roof over their heads during that time. And while the rains had passed, the gray clouds still filled the sky and dulled the morning sunlight. It was actually mid-morning, though one wouldn't be able to tell based on the gray sky. Within Falkreath, there was honestly not much to see as far as landmarks go. They had the Jarl's Longhouse, of course, as well as the big graveyard where the dead were buried. Falkreath just wasn't as big or impressive as the likes of Whiterun, Solitude, or Windhelm. But it did have at least one interesting landmark: The Pit.

The Pit, as it's name suggested, was a pit dug out next to the guard's barracks. Its opening at the top was left open, and the only other way in or out was through a barred opening that led into the barracks. The Pit essentially served as Falkreath's jail, or at least the most prominent part of the jail. Usually it was reserved for criminals being given a special punishment, usually things like dissent against the Stormcloaks and their "High King". The doors to the barracks suddenly burst open and a man stumbled out into the open, even losing his balance and falling onto the cobblestone road. In actuality, he'd been quite literally shoved out the door by the Stormcloak-clad guards, who also dropped a backpack and a peculiar sword onto the ground next to the man, his only belongings.

"Hmph, I still think you got off easy." scoffed one of the guards, "Another stunt like the one you pulled and it'll be your head!" they disappeared back into the barracks after this, slamming the door shut behind them.

Meanwhile, the man on the ground shakily reached for the nearby sword. He briefly touched his free hand to his stomach as he felt it growl quite loudly. With a grimace, he recalled the events that led him to being arrested in the first place.

Three Days Earlier

"I told you, that's all I have!" pleaded the farmer. The guard before him was apparently there to collect the taxes for that month, and the amount given to him wasn't satisfactory. The guard grunted and gave a threatening glare at the farmer.

"The other farmers were able to pay the required amount, you have no excuse for this!" he held up the small coin purse, almost as if disgusted by how light it was, "I hope you're not lying about your earnings, you know what the the penalty will be, don't you?"

"N-no! No, I would never!" said the farmer, but the guard was already pushing past him to search his home. This wasn't uncommon. There had been those that tried to pay less taxes by hiding their true earnings, and so this sort of procedure had become a common response to such things, "You've no cause to enter my home!" said the farmer, reaching to bar the door shut, only be quite literally slapped to ground by the guard.

"You know the law! Pay the High King the taxes he is owed or pay the price!" the guard's hand was reaching for the hilt of his sword. Meanwhile, a leather-armored figure was watching from a distance, He noticed the commotion but seemed hesitant to get involved. But when he saw the guard's hand moving the toward the sword, the stranger made up his mind.

"You heard the man!" said the stranger, even grabbing the guard's shoulder and yanking them away from the farmer with surprising strength, "He said that's all he had, so just take your damn taxes and get out of here!"

"You dare interfere with Official Stormcloak work?" the guard said to the stranger, "With the laws of the High King, himself?"

The stranger gave a small glance to the frightened farmer. He almost appeared to be regretting that he stepped, "Well... I guess when you put it that way," he said, moving as if he were backing off, only for his face to suddenly look alarmed, "WHAT IN OBLIVION IS THAT?!" he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, and pointing off away from the guard, who turned to look only to see nothing there. And then the guard suddenly felt the tip a sword hilt hammering him square in the forehead and he fell the ground, dazed.

The stranger said nothing, but knew he should probably make himself scarce. But there was a problem. His shout had drawn the attention of a couple other nearby guards who ran to investigate. And unfortunately the stranger was surrounded before he could make his getaway.

"Why you!" said the first guard, staggering back to his feet, "I should kill you right now!" and drew his sword from his scabbard. But the sudden appearance of a fourth guard made him stop. This one had to be higher ranked, a Lieutenant or Captain, perhaps.

"What's all this about?" they asked, glancing around at the others. After the situation had been explained, they glanced at the farmer, "If you've given your taxes, then you've no need to still be here, go about your business." to which the farmer appeared relieved as they scurried off away from the scene. Then the officer looked at the stranger, "And as for you..."

"Captain, he assaulted a Guard, I say we gut him where he stands." it was the first guard, still sore about getting knocked onto his ass. But a hand held up by the Captain silenced him immediately.

"...The Pit. No food or water. Three days."

Current Day

"Tch, damn bastards." the man muttered under his breath. Really, though, he'd brought this on himself. If he'd just shut up and kept walking then none of this would have happened. This is what happens to people who try to help others. At least, that's what the cynic in him wanted to believe. He glanced down at the sword he'd picked up, staring at it as if reading a note or letter that wasn't there. Then with a frustrated sigh he slung the weapon across his shoulder. Now having raised himself to a knee, his hand reach over to the ground where the backpack sat.

Once again, he felt his stomach growl. He was hungry, practically starving even. Three days without food would do that to a person. Unfortunately for him, those Stormcloaks had taken it upon themselves to confiscate what bit of coin the man had had when they arrested him. They claimed it was 'fines' for breaking the law, but the man knew better. They robbed him, plain and simple. Thugs in uniform is what they were, and he hoped they choked on the septims they'd stolen from him.

The Key of Twilight (Kingdom Hearts AU)

@Wayward@Bright_Ops@Spectral@Stylobilly

S̴T̴O̴R̴M̴C̴L̴O̴A̴K̴ : Rise of Tyranny (SHELVED, PM or DM me for inquiry.)

Totally Not The Future Emperor

• Character Name: Justinian Tiberius
• Nicknames/Alias: Gungnir (the name he uses while in Skyrim), Justin (usually only used by close friends and family)

• Character Race: Half-Nord (his father was an Imperial)

• Gender: Male

•Character Appearance:

(Ignore the armor, this is a face-claim only)

• Short Biography:
Born in Bruma in the year 4E 170 - just a year before the start of the Great War, to Freyja and Quintus Tiberius. In many ways, Justinian's story begins where Quintus's ends. Quintus Tiberius was a Knight Captain of Blades, a faction of Imperial Agents sworn to the service of the Emperor himself. Throughout history, the Blades have served as the Emperor's bodyguards within the heartland, or as his secret eyes and ears throughout the other provinces. Quintus had joined the Blades at a relatively young age, where he met the young Freyja during one of his many routine visits to Bruma while outside of Cloud Ruler Temple. Freyja was a fiery Nord woman and the niece of the Count and Countess of Bruma. After some years of friendship and later courtship, the two eventually married. And yet, mere months after the birth of their first son, Quintus was called away to serve the Empire in a war against the Elves.

Quintus had made a name for himself in the war, managing to pull victory from the jaws of defeat in multiple engagements. And yet, despite all this, the Empire eventually capitulated to the demands of the Aldmeri Dominion. Unfortunately for Quintus, he was outside of the Empire's borders at the time of the White-Gold Concordant being signed, behind enemy lines in Thalmor territory in fact. As part of the White-Gold Concordant, the Blades were officially disbanded by the Emperor and dissolved. Those outside the borders were on their own, forced to go into hiding as the Thalmor Agents hunted them down one by one, Quintus included. In the end, the only thing left of him Freyja and the young Justinian had was his Akaviri sword, which the Thalmor had delivered to them after the execution. Officially it was touted as a courteous gesture, but unofficially everyone knew it was really just a warning. A similar gesture had been done for all the Blades who had been captured or killed during the War, and the underlying implications was obvious to everyone. Anyone who dared to defy the Dominion in the future would suffer this same fate.

Justinian grew up knowing his father only through stories told by his mother and others. They all painted the picture of Quintus having been one the great heroes of the Empire during the war. But Justinian found a different takeaway from the stories. His father hadn't just been a hero who died for his country, he'd instead been fed to wolves by it like some kind of sacrificial lamb. Why had the Emperor relented? Why had he signed a treaty that ended up sentencing so many of his loyal agents to death? It was like Bruma, and the entirety of Cyrodil, was no longer the home it was supposed to be. Justinian instead felt like a stranger, someone who didn't truly belong. Eventually he'd had enough of living under the rule of someone he believed was a cowardly excuse for an Emperor. He stole his father's Akaviri Sword and left home, traveling toward the Northern Border to his mother's homeland - to Skyrim.

But even in Skyrim, things were not much better. With the rise of the new High King, anti-foreigner sentiments ran rampant throughout the Holds. In fact, Justinian had had to lie about his parentage just to avoid being thrown out of towns or villages. Thankfully, by adopting the name Gungnir, he was able to pass himself off as a native Nord, at least to most folks anyway. But what to do? It seemed no matter where he went, Justinian felt like an outcast. In Cyrodil he felt like a stranger in his own home, and here in Skyrim he may as well have been an unwelcome outcast. If Tamriel even could still be saved from the encroaching Dominion, would it even be worth saving in this current state?

•Personality and General Disposition: Believe it or not, Justinian indeed still holds to the ideals of the Empire. Well, those of his father more specifically. The Empire had, at one time, been a great power in the world and at times, a force for good. That was all during the 3rd Era, a time known largely for the reign of the Septim Dynasty. But those were the ideals that Quintus had fought and died for, and they were the ideals that Justinian had come to adopt himself as well. But the Empire in its current state is something Justinian loathes to look at. He sees it a rotted shell, a warped and twisted shadow of what it used to be... of what it should be. And frankly, he's come to view Skyrim in much the same light. These lands were once the homes of great men and women, Heroes whom Justinian believed would be disgusted to see what they had become today. Politics aside, Justinian views much of the world around him through a more cynical lens, or as a "realist" as he would put it. He's quick to point out when someone's foolhardy idea is likely to get people killed, but not willing enough to intervene on anyone's behalf. At least most of the time, anyway. There are times when his better nature gets the best of him and he *does* intervene to save someone. Above all, Justinian lives by a simple motto, one engraved onto the blade of his father's sword in the Classical Cyrodilic tongue: Semper enim libertas. Always for liberty.

• Allegiance/Loyalties: Justinian has no current loyalties, save perhaps to his family back home. He used to stay in touch with his mother via letters, but those have become much less frequent after she recently assumed the rulership of Bruma and became its new Countess.

• Equipment/Gear: An Akaviri Sword that once belonged to his father, a sturdy crossbow and quiver of bolts, a set well-worn but dependable leather armor, and a backpack containing a few misc essentials such as rope, torches, and etc.

• Skills and Ability: Justinian posses no training nor talent for magic of any sort. He's rather skilled with his sword, as he had spent much of his formative years secretly using it to teach himself swordplay. But Justinian is also smart enough not to rely solely on the blade to solve his problems. Over the years, he's become a fairly adept marksman with a crossbow, and isn't afraid to use it to pick off as many enemies from a distance as possible before finally engaging in melee with them. And beyond that, Justinian is not above the utilization of traps, poisons, and other such tactics to cripple his enemy before moving in for the kill.

Dragon Ball: Shattered Worlds

@Chev

So all those dead patrollers died saving this city. And apparently time travel was already attempted. He really shouldn't have been surprised. Leave to one of the gods to think of everything. That didn't make this exchange sting any less. She looked positively livid with him, but really, what was he supposed to do? Ovaan had been largely uninformed of how all this worked from the beginning. How could he possibly have known that time travel had already been tried? Well, frankly he couldn't have.

But there was something else to all of this. What had the Supreme Kai of Time known about any of them before bringing them all here? Sure, she might have peaked into their timelines and learned a bit about them that way. But clearly she hadn't learned everything. Otherwise, why save someone just as guilty of galaxy-wide atrocities as Freeza had been? Why save someone who deep down wouldn't have even wanted to be saved?

Having closed his eyes in thought, Ovaan's throat twitched a bit as he swallowed down a deep breath. His arms, having been crossed over his chest, seemed to relax more as if his guard were lowering. But then his hands suddenly clenched into fists as Ovaan silently let his battle power roar upwards. Was he about to attack? His eyes shot open with a quick glare and he said a bitter, snappy tone, "You should have just let me die!" and then shot upward into the sky and off into the distance.

Dragon Ball: Universe Zero

@Double Unless you have a post in mind, I can go next and set the scene down on Mars. Then you could go after me.

@Balthazar007

Yeah go ahead, been having writer's block trying to figure out what to post.

S̴T̴O̴R̴M̴C̴L̴O̴A̴K̴ : Rise of Tyranny (Interest Gathering)

@Shu Well, here ya go. Let me know if I made any timeline errors or if I took too many liberties.

Totally Not The Future Emperor

• Character Name: Justinian Tiberius
• Nicknames/Alias: Gungnir (the name he uses while in Skyrim), Justin (usually only used by close friends and family)

• Character Race: Half-Nord (his father was an Imperial)

• Gender: Male

•Character Appearance:

(Ignore the armor, this is a face-claim only)

• Short Biography:
Born in Bruma in the year 4E 170 - just a year before the start of the Great War, to Freyja and Quintus Tiberius. In many ways, Justinian's story begins where Quintus's ends. Quintus Tiberius was a Knight Captain of Blades, a faction of Imperial Agents sworn to the service of the Emperor himself. Throughout history, the Blades have served as the Emperor's bodyguards within the heartland, or as his secret eyes and ears throughout the other provinces. Quintus had joined the Blades at a relatively young age, where he met the young Freyja during one of his many routine visits to Bruma while outside of Cloud Ruler Temple. Freyja was a fiery Nord woman and the niece of the Count and Countess of Bruma. After some years of friendship and later courtship, the two eventually married. And yet, mere months after the birth of their first son, Quintus was called away to serve the Empire in a war against the Elves.

Quintus had made a name for himself in the war, managing to pull victory from the jaws of defeat in multiple engagements. And yet, despite all this, the Empire eventually capitulated to the demands of the Aldmeri Dominion. Unfortunately for Quintus, he was outside of the Empire's borders at the time of the White-Gold Concordant being signed, behind enemy lines in Thalmor territory in fact. As part of the White-Gold Concordant, the Blades were officially disbanded by the Emperor and dissolved. Those outside the borders were on their own, forced to go into hiding as the Thalmor Agents hunted them down one by one, Quintus included. In the end, the only thing left of him Freyja and the young Justinian had was his Akaviri sword, which the Thalmor had delivered to them after the execution. Officially it was touted as a courteous gesture, but unofficially everyone knew it was really just a warning. A similar gesture had been done for all the Blades who had been captured or killed during the War, and the underlying implications was obvious to everyone. Anyone who dared to defy the Dominion in the future would suffer this same fate.

Justinian grew up knowing his father only through stories told by his mother and others. They all painted the picture of Quintus having been one the great heroes of the Empire during the war. But Justinian found a different takeaway from the stories. His father hadn't just been a hero who died for his country, he'd instead been fed to wolves by it like some kind of sacrificial lamb. Why had the Emperor relented? Why had he signed a treaty that ended up sentencing so many of his loyal agents to death? It was like Bruma, and the entirety of Cyrodil, was no longer the home it was supposed to be. Justinian instead felt like a stranger, someone who didn't truly belong. Eventually he'd had enough of living under the rule of someone he believed was a cowardly excuse for an Emperor. He stole his father's Akaviri Sword and left home, traveling toward the Northern Border to his mother's homeland - to Skyrim.

But even in Skyrim, things were not much better. With the rise of the new High King, anti-foreigner sentiments ran rampant throughout the Holds. In fact, Justinian had had to lie about his parentage just to avoid being thrown out of towns or villages. Thankfully, by adopting the name Gungnir, he was able to pass himself off as a native Nord, at least to most folks anyway. But what to do? It seemed no matter where he went, Justinian felt like an outcast. In Cyrodil he felt like a stranger in his own home, and here in Skyrim he may as well have been an unwelcome outcast. If Tamriel even could still be saved from the encroaching Dominion, would it even be worth saving in this current state?

•Personality and General Disposition: Believe it or not, Justinian indeed still holds to the ideals of the Empire. Well, those of his father more specifically. The Empire had, at one time, been a great power in the world and at times, a force for good. That was all during the 3rd Era, a time known largely for the reign of the Septim Dynasty. But those were the ideals that Quintus had fought and died for, and they were the ideals that Justinian had come to adopt himself as well. But the Empire in its current state is something Justinian loathes to look at. He sees it a rotted shell, a warped and twisted shadow of what it used to be... of what it should be. And frankly, he's come to view Skyrim in much the same light. These lands were once the homes of great men and women, Heroes whom Justinian believed would be disgusted to see what they had become today. Politics aside, Justinian views much of the world around him through a more cynical lens, or as a "realist" as he would put it. He's quick to point out when someone's foolhardy idea is likely to get people killed, but not willing enough to intervene on anyone's behalf. At least most of the time, anyway. There are times when his better nature gets the best of him and he *does* intervene to save someone. Above all, Justinian lives by a simple motto, one engraved onto the blade of his father's sword in the Classical Cyrodilic tongue: Semper enim libertas. Always for liberty.

• Allegiance/Loyalties: Justinian has no current loyalties, save perhaps to his family back home. He used to stay in touch with his mother via letters, but those have become much less frequent after she recently assumed the rulership of Bruma and became its new Countess.

• Equipment/Gear: An Akaviri Sword that once belonged to his father, a sturdy crossbow and quiver of bolts, a set well-worn but dependable leather armor, and a backpack containing a few misc essentials such as rope, torches, and etc.

• Skills and Ability: Justinian posses no training nor talent for magic of any sort. He's rather skilled with his sword, as he had spent much of his formative years secretly using it to teach himself swordplay. But Justinian is also smart enough not to rely solely on the blade to solve his problems. Over the years, he's become a fairly adept marksman with a crossbow, and isn't afraid to use it to pick off as many enemies from a distance as possible before finally engaging in melee with them. And beyond that, Justinian is not above the utilization of traps, poisons, and other such tactics to cripple his enemy before moving in for the kill.

S̴T̴O̴R̴M̴C̴L̴O̴A̴K̴ : Rise of Tyranny (Interest Gathering)

@Shu Ah so there's a power vacuum going on in Cyrodil right now? INNNNNTERESTING! *totally not plotting to become the next Emperor*

Dragon Ball: Shattered Worlds

<Snipped quote by Double>
Well what am I supposed to do? All I can do is chat on this thread and that ain't happening. So I gave up and broke.

<Snipped quote by King Kindred>
If I have to go off site to chat to the people I am supposed to socialize with on site than why did I register with the site to begin with?

@PPQ Purple

First off, complaining carries more if you actually do the thing you're telling us to do. Second off, you're seriously going to complain about having a Discord? That is the literal exact socializing you've been asking for!

Dragon Ball: Shattered Worlds

@PPQ Purple Look, I fundamentally agree with you, but you yourself haven't exactly made much effort to socialize either. And for the record, I don't count complaining as socializing.