A Game of Gods: A Multiversal Challenge

I slowly backed away from Rey and Eddie as they started using the electronic equipment. I didn't want to mess up what they were doing, and complicated gadgets tended to fail around magicians of considerable power. I couldn't even have a warm shower because the water heater didn't work in my apartment.

"Eddie? Rey? Magic and technology do not go well together; I'm going to be over here if anyone needs me."

edited 17th Nov '10 9:20:03 AM by MadeOfAxes

-the voice grows impatient-

And well. Are you all going to sit there like lemons waiting for a squeezer? I need the material necessary for armour-crafting.

edited 17th Nov '10 9:20:37 AM by Colonial1.1

I looked over at Saren. He had already proved himself to be the kind of guy that made me want to punch him in the face.

"Leave them alone bugboy. They're doing their best, so find someone else to shout at. Preferably Bob."

Yeah, just verbally abuse the skull because I can't fight back. Very like you, Harry.

"No, I verbally abuse you because you deserve it."

edited 17th Nov '10 9:22:50 AM by MadeOfAxes

Deidara sat down at a table and started setting pouches from his waist down on it. He was going to use this time to take inventory on what weapons he had left. Most of the pouches had his clay in it, but he did carry around other necessary ninja tools.

-From his contraption, biotic miasma awhirl, Saren raises a plated eyebrow-

And I suppose you gibber back at orders given with urgency?

"Materials for armor-crafting?! How the hell did you survive? Where are you?" Gordon asked. "How are we even supposed to get stuff for armor?! Why do you need it?!"

edited 17th Nov '10 9:26:10 AM by AnnoR

I do not deserve to be treated like this. I help you day in and day out, advising you in magic and informing you about potential threats. And what do I get for it?

"You get romance novels Bob. Romance novels. I've got a few that I was going to give you before this all happened back at the apartment. And I'll give them to you if you are a good talking skull."

You have a point.

I looked over at Saren, glaring slightly.

"Depends on whether or not I respect the one giving the orders. You're falling in the same camp as Bob at the moment, bug-boy."

edited 17th Nov '10 9:31:03 AM by MadeOfAxes

I will explain why I am back in full when all of you return. Suffice it to say, I met one of the management. And we need armour, specifically of the self-repairing variety. I scanned my own body earlier, and found out that Cybertronian chassis functions and heals like flesh, only faster. Is that a sufficient answer, Human?

"You want us to desecrate corpses," Gordon replied flatly.

Craft had been despondent as he enterred the High Council Chamber.

The resemblance to Neo Arcadia's judicial courts was uncanny - Master X would have been the one occupying the highest chair, while the Eight Gentle Judges sat around him. All of them, of course, were dead. Now the only remnants of their passing were holorecordings, faded sculptures, and Yggdrasil, the sealing place of Master X himself. This did not help his already sombre mood.

How fitting that heroes should die ignoble deaths that are worlds apart from their glorious actions. thought Craft. He decided to ignore Saren's request, though. They deserve better than being used as materials for armour.

Sideswipe and Bumblebee could now hear Saren's voice. They were incredulous, to say the least—and when Saren began to talk of harvesting chassis, they became incensed.

"Slag no! You wanna cannibalize someone's corpse for spare parts, Saren, then go kill some of your own species!"

The jaguar narrowed his optics. "Much as I might be loathe to admit it, Autobot, I agree with you. Now then, Saren, how in the Pit could you possibly be still alive? What little remains of your corpse—everyone's corpses, for that matter—are right in front of me!"

edited 17th Nov '10 9:35:02 AM by SullenFrog

-A frustrated growl comes from the other end-

Just get me some war criminal Decepticons, will you? This armour could stop incidents like Hahli's death, and yours as well..... -growling sigh- Mr. Riggs will be in charge of the crafting.

edited 17th Nov '10 9:36:29 AM by Colonial1.1

"Do they really need to bring corpses? Couldn't they bring back the stuff fresh outa the ground, or building parts or something?"

-There is another frustrated huff, but the Turian continues on-

Hmm... AUTOBOTS! Do Cybertronian building materials have the properties I stated? Or anything else, for that matter?

edited 17th Nov '10 9:45:30 AM by Colonial1.1

Optimus stepped forward. "I don't know how you could have possibly survived, Saren, or the full specifics of these challenges which ensnare you, but I've seen how you work—and I am familiar with what you are suggesting. I forbid it; freedom is the right of all sentient beings, even Decepticons, and I will not condemn them to so vile a fate as to be harvested for use in a polydermal grafting experiment."

Upon hearing the rest of Saren's words, Optimus Prime folded his arms in consideration. "Perhaps, but I am warning you now, Saren; polydermal grafting is a dangerous and unstable procedure. You think that incorporating Cybertronian materials into your armour will increase its protective capabilities and make you stronger, but you don't know the risks involved, how close it can and will bring you to ruin."

edited 17th Nov '10 9:51:08 AM by SullenFrog

Kirby's mind was astray as he slept in his room. He had no idea what possibly could have happened to him on Cybertron, he just assumed it was the work of those Stunticons. The star warrior was growing tired with these challenges and just really wanted to go home.

Collecting himself, Kirby exited his room to see new challengers and some of the others talking into something like his cell phone from one of his past adventures. Once again reminding himself that he wanted out of here.

—#Send me the data with it then. I have had enough of this back and forth. Survival is preferable to death, Prime, and I am willing to try whatever could give us the edge against our jailors. Now, if it will end this tiresome affirmation of graveyard rights, what materials are available?#—

Optimus sighed. "Very well then, Saren. Oh your head be it; I wash my hands of this affair. I am sending you the data, but don't complain to me when one of you is reduced to a mindlessly violent, indestructible monster."

The Autobots' leader reached up to begin transmitting the data, then froze—as did everyone else in the room bar the Champions.

PRIMARY WIN CONDITIONS ACHIEVED. NICE TRY, ARTERIUS.

Then everything went black for a split-second, and Ravage found himself back in his chamber.

The sound of a man singing the same mocking, repetitive notes over and over again came over Saren's communicator.

Gordon looked around wildly in his room, Kliener's lab.

He was noticbly smaller. And organic. And his glasses were no longer a smashed ruin.

He raised his gloved hands and flexed them, looking at the fingers. It was good to be human again.

Gordon exited the lab and made his way to the common room. While they may have won the challenge, he had a lot of questions to ask.

Craft slowly dragged himself from the mire called fatigue. Forcing himself out of his chambers, he saw that there were new prisoners - Challengers - interned in this place.

edited 17th Nov '10 10:26:19 AM by Flanker66

Gordon regarded the chambers with surprise. There was an.... anime... character? That was kind of odd... A wrestler, an ordinary-looking man, and an admittedly attractive women.

"New challengers?" he asked, folding his arms.

Jorge woke up with a start. It was impossible: Saren was dead. How could he have survived? He wasn't here, was he? The Spartan then looked down at himself, and felt his face. He was human again. That was good, at least.

Jorge left the room, and found Craft standing in the hall.

"Craft...glad to see you're still with us. Come on."

The Spartan entered the common room to see the new champions.

"Oh...well, new potential allies. I can work with that."

edited 17th Nov '10 10:33:53 AM by Nimitz

"Boyo, boy boyo boyo boy boyooo..." <So it seems...> Kirby watched the doctor. His eyes were ones of mild concern.

"Boy boyo boyo boy boyo?" <How'd it go?>

"So guys... how'd it go?"

"Severe cripplings, deaths, and generaly horrible things," said Gordon with a sigh. "But... I guess I can tak solace in the fact that, in the end, we won."