Battleworld 2.0

@temporal_hound: Sure, I guess.

@_creature_:

It's up to you, I don't want to send someone that's out of your league or way below your league. I have a few characters I want to send here, Time Siphon, Katraya and this one.

@temporal_hound: Since I barely know your characters, I'll let you choose. My character is as strong as any high-tier, big bulky Lantern.

@_creature_:

Oh he's a Lantern? You should be fine. The Temporal Hound is a big bruiser with an immense amount of durability but he's not winning any races any time soon.

All of my characters have their information in their bio.

lol thanks again for the support.

@alexander_apex:

You lost respect points for using that whack Superboy Prime pic. :P

@inevitable_one: PM'ing you soon.

@_creature_: @inevitable_one

The Temporal Hound was somewhat bemused by its necessary appearance on Battle World. It had heard of the place before, what self-respecting universe traveler had not? The Great Beast had been tracking the Time Siphon known as Raeyn for thousands of years. Of late the hunt had been on Earth but after curious developments the Great Beast determined to back track and investigate previous loose ends before returning to Earth again. The behavior of the Time Siphon had changed dramatically and The Temporal Hound was determined to prove its theory before it acted upon it, otherwise it would be changing its own behavior for no reason.

The Great Beast could not travel through space without a ship and currently lacked access to one. Fortunately it had a number of seedy contacts it had developed over the years and one of them happened to have a rather extended range teleportation device. It had hoped to teleport somewhere useful within Battle World but found itself in one of the arenas instead. Its advanced senses pulled in particles from the lingering teleportation effect and sifted through them, identifying the tell tale signs of someone intercepting its teleportation and redirecting it.

You are on Battle World but in an arena, someone wanted to see you fight. How annoyingly predictable.

The Great Beast walked to one of the numerous holographic recording cameras scattered around the arena and gazed down into the lens with its enormous eyes. "Here is the deal." He told whoever was running the planet. "I will fight one person of your choice, it will not be to the death but to the first being rendered unconscious or incapable of fighting. If I win you let me out of the arenas, I have important work to do and my patience, though vast, is not limitless. Send over your choice."

In an effort to show his sincerity he brought one of his feet down on the camera. The device had been armored against all manner of attacks to protect it during battles, yet its housing crumbled under the force of the impact and the device shattered like glass. The Temporal Hound turned away from the smashed camera and waited with its eyes closed, its vast intellect already working on a dozen plans to escape the arenas if it needed to.

@nordok@cosmosis or wherever you're at, do this.

I wish to be interestertained.

Whack? Dude, Jim Lee plus scattered JLA paraphernalia below a towering SP? Nicca you kray!

I wanna test this character out here. Any takers? That Leo fight with Alex has me looking for another one ;P

@alexander_apex:

The art is cool, Superboy Prime? Not so much, his costume also sucks.

Nah I agree. Jus Jim Lee makes everything look cool.

@alexander_apex: @inevitable_one: @azure_son:

"Yeah babe I got it. Milk and eggs on the way home. I think even I can remember that." he chuckled. Sardonically looking at his cell with loving intent. "Hang on a sec, got another call." A curious almost puzzled expression took his facial expressions hostage. "Yeah, who's this?"Hostility in his tone was do in large part to the unknown callers blocked number. "Hello Christoper. It has been a long...long time. I know you left on, lets just say unfortunate terms. But we're in desperate need of your assistance." The gruff almost gargled voice paused with patient anticipation of what was sure to be an agitated response. "Ha....haha ya gotta be fckn kidding me. YOU! Want my help? Old man you're even crazier then I remember." scuffed the chiseled paragon. "Please Christoper, hear me out!" Angered and frustrated, Christopher Noble lashed out, "STOP CALLING ME THAT! You're not allowed to use my full name. That right is reserved for my family, my friends. And you, are neither."

"Christopher, if you well not set aside your wounded pride and help us, you'll not have a family for long. Earth, the Universe, is in peril. You must 'ring' up and meet me on BattleWorld. Immediately." The phone went silent. Leaving Mr. Noble with an empty pit in his stomach and a sub-conscious filled with questions. "Goddamit..."

"Baby? Hello? What happened? Whats wrong?" Clutching the phone tight with a grimmest look, having forgotten about his wife on the other end. Scrambling he attempted to regain control of the situation. "Its fine baby, just a....work thing. Look, I'mma be late coming home after all. Dont wait up. I love you, remember that." He could hear her concerned voice trail off as he unceremoniously hung up. His honor, his code, dictated his next move. His next course of action. The investigation of BattleWorld and a legendary confrontation that had scarred the planet for life. Combatants of such unmitigated power could not be allowed to freely flow through the galaxy. Good or evil, they would be brought before the laws of the universe. They would answer for their perceived crimes. Or so the Emerald Ring Bearer believed.

@sequitur_crix: And things heat up, hehe.

This should be fun to write.

All I need now is a partner in which to hunt you planet busting assholes down with.

@temporal_hound: Sorry about disappearing on ya! Things came up.

Could still continue if you still want to.

I kinda wanna send Leonard here lmao

@azure_son: @alexander_apex:

The Inevitable One was in a foul mood, and as always, his hapless underlings were bearing the brunt of it.

"What do you mean, 'they left?'" His voice was terrifyingly calm, but his eyes glowed like burning suns as they bored into the groveling attendant who had dared to bring him an unfavorable report.

"They...simply departed the planet of their own power, lord..." the pathetic underling stammered, sweat beading as his forehead as he knelt before the massive frame of his Imperium master. "After the damage they inflicted on the moon itself, we thought it prudent to-"

"The damage to the planet is of less than no concern!" Zedracus snapped, cutting off his inferior. "If the planetechs cannot stabilize it, contact the Shadow Brethren and have them send a geomancer to see to it! Both those combatants are too powerful to simply let slip away; I want them both returned here, immediately!"

"Of course master...I will send out scout ships immediately...but at their speed, they could already be outside of the-"

"Idiot." The word silenced the trembling servant as though it had torn out his vocal chords. "Being the Imperium's top strategist would be far more satisfying if there was any competition at all for the position! Even if a scout ship located one of them, what do you think it could possibly do? I want you to send out word, in every known language, and along every known frequency: whoever brings me one or both of these moonbreakers will be rewarded above and beyond the limits of what any bounty hunter has a right to dream!"

If only there was a Lobo character right now, then this whole situation would be perfect.

@_creature_: I know of an inactive one; I'll have to see if I can shake that particular tree. ;)

@inevitable_one: Yeah buuuuddy. Glad this has some traction!

@_creature_: @temporal_hound:

"The message has been sent per your instructions, my lord," the nervous assistant said, seemingly slightly more confident now that he was not at quite as much risk of immediate disintegration, "but what are my lord's wishes for the...thing that is making its demands in arena Omega-47?"

"You find it an opponent, you insipid microbe," the Inevitable replied. "And just to be clear, said opponent does not need to share this newcomer's nonlethal philosophy. I will not have the terms of the battles on my world dictated to me."

I may have a Hunter that'd like to join in.

@_creature_:

Up to you, my post is open enough that I could fight anyone.

@alexander_apex: @inevitable_one:@azure_son:

Outfitted in what had started to become known as his "Hunter-Prey" regalement, Christopher Noble, the Galactic Republican, touched down on the infamous gladiatorial moon of BattleWorld. Instantly his boot was assaulted with a rain stained piece of paper promotion torn free from its corresponding magazine. The headline however was evident.

"Greatest Battle of All Tiiiiiime: Goliaths tear BattleWorld apart."

Artistic representations depicting a three dimensional letter S. Weathered and tattered facing off against a pair of bloody bandages wrapped tightly around clinched fists were reminders that for most, the savage confrontation had become legend. For others, such as the Galactic Congress, it was nothing short of a horrific precursor. Such unchecked power could not simply be permitted to travel freely throughout the known (and unknown) universes. Azure Son's self-assured confidence and devil may care attitude were infamous. A natural hero to some, a terrifying titan to others. Unrelenting in his punishment of evil, though galvanization as it were, also carried a heavy burden requiring certain reaffirmations. Affirmations that sought to shackle, in a sense, the Modern Man Supreme's "I do what I want when I want" demeanor.

Carefully, the article was folded and placed in Crix's breast pocket to be later framed. A practice of his. For although his celestial ring had already cataloged the finding, there was replicating the sense of physically owning a piece of cosmic history. "Recreate." He ordered. Watching as green illumination scanned out and holographically re-created the destroyed arena. Every square inch of missing foundation, every murdered spectator, artificially engineered for optical forensic. Allowing Sequitur Crix to witness the breathtaking battle and subsequent chaos in full high definition splendor. "Impressive." Admiring the god's ferocity. But as glorying as the battle was, it was the pair's contrail residue and flight trajectory after the fact that governed his surveillance.

"Seems they fled in opposite directions. Locate" Speaking to the emerald ring decorative hung off a chain around his neck.

ΦTrackingΦ..... ...... ..........

@sequitur_crix: Replying to this with Cestus in a bit.

This mofo. You been hanging out with Mercy too much

(Ha, jus bustn balls son. Tis Saturday after all. No rush)

@alexander_apex: @inevitable_one: @sequitur_crix: @azure_son

"Are you honorable?" - Cestus Bloodborne
"Stand before the corpses of my people, extinct, and ask their ghosts if honor matters" - Satar
"Good. You're an assassin. A bounty hunter. We don't need honor" - Cestus
"Only strength" - Cestus
"Only strength" - Satar
"Investigate this Battleworld incident. Find those behind this so called 'Greatest Battle of All Time'. The Bloodborne Pack, our organization, is being paid for it. Show them our strength. And why you're the Hilion who survived. The only one who still walks on our planet" - Cestus
"Wish me luck?" - Satar
"You don't need luck. You have ammo" - Cestus

Cratered. Scorched. Bathed in a sea of ash and infrastructural ruins, Battleworld was a shell. Reduced to a crippled moon. The air? Still hot. Electrical arcs, conversation between ionized particles, zipped all about. It was calmer. Recovery was a slow jog, lacking in pace. Architectural restoration was too, sluggish. And yet, Battleworld had not, in years, been as congested as it was now. Tourists from every backwater planet, every premier civilization and cosmic corner, hurried about, wonderment in their eyes, excitement in their hearts as they all came to rest their collective gazes upon the aftermath of a bout between gods. They journeyed to every crater, eager to pinpoint the deepest, they counted every fissure, and felt the vibrations, the tingling sensation from the charged particles that shared their excitement.

It was a festival. One that the Bloodborne Specter, their 'Archangel', wanted no part of. He seemed humanoid in appearance. Yet his muscle tissue was denser. His flesh was armored. And emerald was his color. His eyelids were of two sets. The inner lid, a milky white that closed from the left and right, and the outer lid, black, which closed from the top and the bottom. Most striking about him, were his eyes. They were onyx. Similar in color to the jet black of his form-fitting ensemble. His eyes held an edge, one of disarming mystique, of gelid flair. His features were mesmeric, lending to the jabbing phrase his Bloodborne Pack colleagues described him, in jest, with, 'Too suave to kill'. He was quiet, and did not speak a word as he sat in his seat, surrounded by the exotic aroma of extraterrestrial beverages, the alien scent of whatever it was that was being smoked in the watering hole.

He was quiet because he was listening. To the bartender's words that escaped with enthusiasm from his mouth as he told the tale of the Battleworld's greatest ever bout. "And that's how it ended. Boom! Great fight but uh.. cost Battleworld some real galactic credits in the rebuilding process". With a nod, subtle but courteous, Satar or 'Archangel', voiced his gratitude, "Thank you", the cool, enigmatic timbre of his voice echoing as he left. With a clear vision of the power wielded by his targets, he knew of the trail to be followed. His senses, extraordinary, the kind that enabled him to see much, to peer into even the layout of space-time geometry, would allow him to locate them, or one of them at least. Yet as he set foot outside, he saw another, a Galactic Knight. What he was doing in Battleworld was a mystery to no one. No one with common sense, at least.

Perhaps then, fate had brought them together, in the Inevitable One's domain for a most peculiar hunt. One hunts for law and order. The other? To fulfill his contract. A contract with the Inevitable One? Maybe? If he were willing to pay, that is.

@satar: Very nice.

@satar:

It wasnt an obvious tell, a subtle indicating twitch of the brow. Quick yet significant. Underlining Crix's almost racially driven dislike of bounty hunters. A long and sorted past with those eager to cash in on galactic bounties had forever forged a deep seeded animosity. And yet, as if slaved to fate, he needed the help of one now more then ever. Understanding full well that if even half of the story pertaining to the devastating battle between Azure Son and Alexander were true, then not even a Child of the Vault would be able to apprehend them alone. The Last Hilion was no stranger to cosmic fame himself. Renowned for his stoic and skilled nature, tales of his exploits had been romanticized. And deservedly so.

"I've managed to obtain a trajectory. At least one of them headed off towards the trade metropolis. Most likely looking to cash in on his new found infamy. The other" Pausing as he deliberated a plausible destination. "well, no idea. Either way, bounty hunter, it seems as though are interests would be better suited if we were to form a temporary alliance. A....partnership." Arching his brow while extending a unifying hand.

@sequitur_crix: Ha! Love the GIF's touch. Was about to start on a reply but I'll wait to see if ID (Inevitable One) is dropping one.

Sending Leonard heeree

@sequitur_crix: (Actually nah, not waiting LOL)

"Perhaps", Satar 'Archangel' finally responded, the notes, poised and relaxed, of his icy voice hanging in the air. For a moment, the Emerald Enigma lingered in silence, hands cupped together in apparent prayer, all two layers of his eyelids shutting as he entered a trance, giving himself to the allurement of his sensory enlightenment. Space-time geometry, a domain best described as... indescribable. It was of the things that drove men and aliens alike, mad. And yet, the Hilion were of a different breed altogether. It, like their natural ability to feed off the quantum of gravity, gravitons, was among their most primary adaptations. The kind of trait that prior to their extinction during the 'Antimatter Conflict' with the Zabans, allowed them to survive in the harsh world from which they hailed.

Born without the skeletal thickness and muscular girth of the Zabans, evolution bestowed the Hilion with different means of withstanding their homeworld's overpowering gravity. The ability to feed off of gravity's most fundamental units. What gravitons were to gravity, photons were to light. Where gravity was strongest, so were the Hilion. And their exotic, sensory immersion in space-time geometry? Their ancestors means of locating prey. By plucking the strands of time to 'see' where in the near-future their prey would be, the Hilion were, at one point, Zaba's greatest hunters. And it was with this ability that Satar emerged as one of the galaxy's greatest bounty hunters. His trance ended, onyx eyes again meeting the Galactic Guardian's emerald pearls, 'Archangel' spoke. "The other one will be in the Magnum Opus Space Station in three days time".

RL's a bit chaotic for me, for the next two weeks, so don't let me hold anyone up! Post away!

@satar: I like this creation of yours. Nice post too, will respond tomorrow son.

@the_xsoteric:

You took the "flying too close to the sun" saying a bit literal, dad.

@_nox_: (nah I'm gonna re-purpose this account. Shifted LeBeau back to the Charlemagne account. Tried making a new email but its such a pain in the ass lol)

@the_xsoteric:

(Lol,I figured. I was just making a crack at how Sinestro's skin looks like he got a mean sunburn)

Thanks man, looking forward to it. Love your approach to a GL character too.

@satar:

Even for the Galactic Republican three days in space was a long, long time. Luckily the ring's capabilities, in his hand anyway, allowed for spectacular feats of unconventional engineering. And thus with but a singular thought the Millennial Matrix had constructed an interstellar craft. Capable of withstanding cosmic travel and exploration. The concentration required for such a spectacular feat was impossible to measure by modern man's analytic scale. And yet it took no more effort for Crix then drawing breath, for a regular homo-sapien. Born a Child of the Vault, his mental faculties and consolidated cerebral aggregations where, for lack of a better term, 'next level.'

And yet alongside the loan surviving Hillion they were sufficiently malnourished. The alien bounty hunter supreme conducted enigmatic glimpses of the future with sublime ease. "Remarkable really." Crix unexpectedly spurted. Interrupting what had, up until then, been a disturbingly silent voyage across the galaxy. "Nah seriously. That thing you do.... I've encountered alot of hunters but none so....fck man how do I say it.....all Yoda and sh!t. Its impressive." Lightning up a Konite. Similar to Earth's Cigarette but far more deadly. Capable of destroying normal lung tissue instantaneously. The Galactic Republican had been smoking them for years.

"Look, I dont know what we're going to find when we get there but just so we're clear, I have orders. We're taking these assholes back to the Galactic Congress. In body bags if need be. Hopefully it doesnt come to that. After all if the rumors are true then at least one of them are Thee Champions son. We find him, talk to him, and bring him in. He has a little chat with the higher ups and bam, dude's free to role out." Crix's ring began to glow upon mere mention of the legendary hero, the Champion. Before spontaneously projecting an image of the paragon and his exploits.

Seated with his legs unceremoniously propped up, Crix watched and took stock of the hero's devastating power. And unyielding compassion. "Take notes Yoshi"referencing the affable Mario character. Using the verbal taunt as an almost racially charged insult. "Thats a real hero right there. If half of Earth's reputed champions were as stalwart as that dude, it'd be a damn fine place to call home." Harshly exhaling and leaning back into his seat. "The other one, the clone....the abomination.....he's all yours. Bury him deep for all I care."Again the Galactic Republican's ring illuminated before a sentient voice rang out.

ØI've compiled a listing pertaining to the False God's activity. It appears as though he's collectingØ

".....Collecting what?" Puzzled and inquisitively disturbed, Crix sat forehead.

ØAn armyØ

@sequitur_crix:

There were few things in this universe that Satar 'Archangel', the Last Hilion, detested more than prolonged space travel. Why? His reasons were plentiful. Despite the philosophy of stoicism with which he seemed to govern himself, the Bloodborne Archangel's cranium held within its walls, an artistic mind. One that enjoyed beauty in its purest form. Space, despite what many a depiction portrays of it, was not beautiful. It was empty. And dark. The colorful array of nebulae and gas clouds were separated from each other by light years. What existed in between? Darkness, its background dotted with the twinkles of distant stars. Dust but nothing ionized, nothing energetic. It was a dull journey.

One that the Emerald Enigma distracted himself from only by entering, even if only for a brief moment, his trance-like state. His mind abandoned the visual stimuli of the physical world and immersed itself in space-time geometry, a plane that some described as a quantitative nightmare, whereas others preferred 'mathematical paradise'. There was a curve. Caused by gravity, generated by a mass of energy that rivaled the girth of entire stars. And so what? There existed an inconceivable amount of stars in the universe. The difference was, this bit of mass was moving, generating an odd curve in this peculiar, geometric plane. Even more-so, it changed directions. Not even rogue stars did so. They were propelled in one direction and did not change course until a collision occurred.

This was the Azure Son he was tracking. Satar was certain, their target was heading for the Omega System. And coincidentally, as his trance ended, his partner spoke. "Thank you", he replied, a mild, but cordial inclination of the head was issued, casting the Bloodborne Archangel's mystifying, social magnetism into the atmosphere with gelid authority. "In my homeworld, abilities such as these, mastered or not, are vital when even our vegetation is predatory", he remarked, briefly resting his gaze on the Galactic Guardian's lit Konite. He'd never had one. Though that wasn't to imply he'd never been tempted. Perhaps following this hunt's possible success. His own gift to himself, for treating his body like the temple it is. "Ah yes, the Azure Son", Satar began, nodding in response to Crix's suggestions.

"I will not disrupt your attempt at justice. But from what the rumors say, he is different from his father. Whereas Thee Champion is merciful, willing to give second chances, willing to forgive, his son is not. He is ruthless. Enjoys forcing his adversaries to feel weak and powerless before slaying them. The boy lives by the sword. While he is still righteous, he will be difficult to talk to. But... we shall see", he paused as he, like Crix, seized the opportunity to observe the holographic projection of the Herald of Hope's legendary feats of power and deeds of altruism, all-the-while harnessing the powers of his own self-mastery to refrain from reacting to whatever it was his acquaintance called him. Yoshi? Whatever that meant, he could not be sure. A term of endearment? Unlikely. An insult? Possibly. Mentally, Satar shrugged, there were more pressing matters.

"A clone?", he inquired, surprised, somewhat, before his attention found itself drawn to the word 'army'. The False God was amassing an army. "We must locate him quickly. I sense a storm coming..".

@satar: @sequitur_crix:

From half a galaxy away he waits. Listening with analytical intent, intrenched in his own meditative cocoon until...

@Schlampe:

Picked up by psychic potential the giddy expression on Ruby's face was akin to that of a roller coaster enthusiast. It seemed her ride and soon to be companion of battle wasn't to thrilled with her. Even still nobody could dampen the spirits of Ruby. She was venturing toward the planet known for confrontation. Something of which the bubbley receptionist lived for. Perhaps it was the adrenaline maybe she was clinically insane and just didn't know it. Regaurdless of the case she was thrilled for the next fight to seize her otherwise limited attention span.

As for the trip she was able to confine her usual constantly babbling attitude. She understood the limitations of air and as such kept silent. Instead resorting to large headphones and headbaning within her air bubble. Riding out the journey with what was the equivalent of patience for her.

Arriving in orbit however the pink and auburn haired combat enthusiest couldn't help but leap with joy and releasing a almost consciousness thieving "squee" both long and undoubtably annoying if anyone could have heard it. Of course what Ruby didn't know was that previous ground breaking conflict waged between gods might very well lead Trinity and Ruby to a demand of far greater confrontations. After such fights the blood thirsty crowds wanted more, none of that mattered however for Ruby.

(Sorry it's short and for delay <3)

Great posts, everyone! It warms my heart to see so many hunters and mercs answer the call. >;)

@no_one_: No apologies necessary! Either way. I don't have length requirements, and I try not to be pushy anyway (I'm scared to be pushy, and it's mean). Besides, it was fine! [I was probably gonna be too lazy/uncertain to do the introductory "touching down" post, so I was gonna leave it to you anyway if you wanted.]

Could be fun to follow up on. I'm seeing potentials.

@arquitenens: sure I don't mind doing the intro ^.^

Probable violence is likely to insue of course

The repairs to the arena were proceeding at a pace that would be considered staggering on many worlds, but Zedracus had long since ceased to be impressed by Imperium efficiency. When your workforce was almost entirely mechanical, and you had the power to strip entire worlds bare of resources without consequence, one could accomplish quite amazing feats of construction in a very short amount of time. The clockwork labor was of no more interest than insects building a nest.

Once the project was finished, however, and the hunters returned with his prizes…

The Inevitable One’s grin was all but invisible beneath his elaborate Arcanium helm, freshly forged following his…proposal to Ziah Darksong. His glowing gaze, however, shown with an intensity that few could have withstood. A side effect of the dark matter that permeated his body and made him all but invincible, his malevolently luminous orbs were always a telltale sign of his emotional state.

And, at this moment, he desired to crush entire worlds in the palm of his hand.

@inevitable_one: That was badass :)

@fraga: Thank you! That is high praise, especially coming from such a consummate expert on the subject. ^_^