The Grand OC! [CONTEST XXX: HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEN]

Username: Slopbronge
Name: The Animal
Species: Unknown
Gender: Male
Color: Sunset Sandstorm Sky
Description: The Animal seems to be an amalgam of several different creatures, or perhaps one that simply resembles them. Each person who has seen it describes it differently: the most commonly mentioned creature is an enormous jackal, the size of a man or larger; often it is described as having aspects of an aardvark, or a lion, or even a giraffe. The only thing consistent across all descriptions of it is its forked tail and hide of such a deep red it seems black in all but the brightest sunlight.

Its personality or even sapience are hard to pin down. It is said by some to have spoken or listened, while others describe it as bestial and mindless. Much like its form, its behavior is catalogued inconsistently and contradictorily. All anyone knows for sure is that it seems to be seeking something. It takes little interest in people most times, but is extremely dangerous despite its lack of overt hostility.

Weapons/Abilities: The Animal has no weapons – although it may have teeth or claws – nor does it seem to have the capacity to use anything but its body as such. It does, however, have one thing that marks it as either having had contact with tool users or the capability to create things itself: around its neck is a black leather band; there is one onyx mounted on the collar, but obvious spaces for four more.

What makes it dangerous, despite its lack of weapons, is what it does seemingly unknowingly or unintentionally to the world around it. Regardless of where the Animal goes or when it goes there, when it arrives night will begin to fall, and morning will not come until it leaves. This, fortunately, does not stop the planet rotating or the sun from moving around it in more exotic realities; rather, it creates a spacial distortion that repositions the area it's in relative to the light source while keeping it contiguous to the rest of the planet. People crossing this boundary rarely notice aside from a small headache, but the psychically inclined can become quite incapacitated, and wizards have been known to explode. Curiously, this also has the effect of adjusting all timepieces in the affected area to display the same time, one that approximately mirrors the hour the effect most resembles and adjusts itself as night continues to fall. Eventually, all clocks will display midnight if the Animal stays in one place long enough. Adhesives within the area harden quickly – but also degrade and crumble quickly as well – and blades seem to sharpen themselves.

Following the Animal is not just night, but a perpetual windstorm. It picks up grit and whips it into a skin-searing, eye-gouging vortex that blankets the entire area of the Animal's influence; sandstorms and dust-storms are common, but in places where no particles exist to fling, metal objects have been known to shed filings to create truly lethal maelstroms, or – more often – large quantities of sand simply come into being.

Worst of all, simply being around the Animal for long periods of time is enough to induce paralysis in most living things. The facial muscles tend to be the first to go, but gradually everything stiffens and eventually becomes immobile, always in the same prone, straight, arms-by-the-side position. This does have the marginal benefit of forcing the bones into the proper place and holding them fast, but few would seek it out for this.

Biography: No-one knows how long the Animal has been around or what it's been doing for that time. All anyone can be sure of is that it's seeking something; the smart money is that it's looking for the missing portions of its collar, or perhaps looking for the proper receptacle for the last gem. Some even hypothesize that it's been sent to find or fetch a person, but nobody knows who or how.

Username: Scheming Geezer
Name: Jonn (pronounced Jo-inn) Glaressa
Race: Tetraul
Gender: Uninterested shrugging
Color: Spare me your theatrics

Description: Five feet tall. Built like a hairy rock, with stripes on the face (two black from the nose and over the eyes to the ears, white on the rest) as part of the costume for Joann's last gig. Despite being a mage, Jonn doesn't have mark themselves with the red brow most mages use, mostly because they're a thespian first and a mediocre mage second. Instead of clothes, Jonn carries numerous lengths of rope, bundled up by more lengths of rope and secured around their body with a few more lengths of rope. On their back, wrapped up in a rope-sheath, is a (prop) sword, and folded up neatly and bundled with string are some bolts of cloth, in a dull rainbow of colors and prints.

Jonn runs an outdoor theatre in the grassed-over remains of some kind of arena, in a patch of forest called Skias Grove a half-day's walk from the North-ish Rabbul town of Rab Sagullati. Travellers come from far and wide to the grove, where the price of admission is non-perishable foodstuffs and some kind of material that Jonn can use for future scenery-making. Jonn is the director, producer, head of costumes, set design, stage management, and usually half the cast for any given production. Jonn does not write the plays; many theatregoers are playwrights or authors who bring their manuscripts in the hopes the Tetraul will choose their work as her next artistic endeavour.

It's kind of hard to tell whether Jonn actually enjoys their job, though best as anyone can tell Jonn doesn't seem happy with anyone's company. They'll tolerate some people who want to join them for a spell as a stagehand or even a cast member, though it doesn't seem to curry any favour in Jonn's eyes.

Weapons/Abilities: Jonn is a Tetraul magician, skilled at working with rope and more than aware of how esoteric/useless their power is. They can't magic up any more into existence, but can treat the stuff they do carry as an extension of themselves, tie things more securely than their clumsy old bear hands could, strangle an ingrate, things like that. Jonn mostly uses it to make elaborate rigging and set pieces for their stages.

Survival skills include being a good climber, decent digger, and being thick-furred enough to tolerate the coldest climes. Jonn rarely leaves the forest, because the plains surrounding Rab Sagullati are too hot and the Rabbul's stock animals never seem fond of Jonn. They deliver a mean soliloquy and have an expansive memory for the many scripts they've enacted over they years, and their performance (however disapassionate on the inside) regularly moves men to tears. Jonn wonders if their magical knack isn't rope, but theatrics, considering they never get into a role as much as their skillful delivery would lead you to think.

Biography: Jonn was born in Ersette, a cosmopolitan city on the outskirts of North, and was marked as a potential mage - the distance from North, however, meant nobody held much hope in the child's powers being anything remarkable. Jonn left Ersette young, in the company of a pack of troubadours, their leader a much more accomplished Tetraul magician. Jonn learnt a lot from the ringmaster, including a lifelong dislike of Tetraul society and life on the road.

It wasn't until the ringleader was killed by the seakin harpsichorder in a roadside coup that Jonn took to the spotlight. They much preferred tending to the costumes, the set, and the lighting, but their impassioned oration earned much praise. The troupe disbanded after their last show in Rab Sagullati, when the pay proved unsatisfactory and the troupe agreed to help themselves to the deficit before departing in the dead of night. Jonn helped them with their escape plan, then helped the Rabbul ambush her ex-companions. Why Jonn let the Rabuul finish them off is a mystery; maybe they were sick of travelling, sick of self-serving people, or had no wish to return to their hometown of Ersette.

Jonn stayed two nights more at the Rabbul's behest, then left for the edge of the forest. Of the Rabbul, Jonn asked only for a good quantity of rope, a few supplies for survival (mostly scavenged from the theatre troup's belongings), and they point anyone asking after Jonn in the direction of the woods.

Username: Sai
Name: Gaius Axius
Species: Human
Color: Steel

Description: Somewhat squat for a thief, Axius was a barrel chested, broad-shouldered man who stood a full hand shorter than average for his people. He otherwise appeared as a typical man of Mechana would, with skin that would naturally be a deep brown rendered a sallow tan from lack of sunlight and sunken grey eyes over an Aquiline nose. His dark hair was generally unkempt, and lined with streaks of premature white. His mouth was almost always covered by the grey-blue scarf that had become the signature piece of his outfit. It covered both all the flesh of his face below his nose and the metal of his artificial lower jaw. A contraption made up of exposed gears, redundant sets of wiring, and steel teeth that barely fit into the bite of his living ones, its presence explained Axius’s taciturn nature.

Otherwise, he wore the soot stained cast offs common to the factory workers of his city, whose material made up in thickness what it lacked in comfort. He tended to wear a cloak as well which, while hardly comfortable over already heavy clothing, covered the tools of his trade. On a bandolier across his chest he wore a variety of instruments, each corresponding to one of the many models of locks that were used across his city. On his left side, he wore a set of handcuffs, spikes, a coil of wire, and a dagger, which was the only obvious weapon on his form. On his right side, he wore the Bag.

Abilities: While Axius was a master of sleight of hand and more knowledgeable in the inner workings of locks than many of the men that designed them, what truly separated him from the other rogues of the cities was the Bag. Though physically small, its ability to store objects was seemingly endless, provided that no other object of the same type were inside of it. This curiosity almost defined the Bag - indeed, any duplicate of an object that the Bag already held that was placed inside of it would disappear and never be recoverable. Additionally, the Bag held some items that should not have been able to fit inside of it, as well as a few things it seemed to be able to create on its own - a list which would consistently update with everything that the Bag held and, when placed near another container, a list which would show any objects that the Bag and the nearby container had in common. Finally, as long as Axius knew which object he desired, he was always able to draw it from the Bag as soon as he reached inside of it.

Axius was not the first owner of the Bag. Originally developed in Elekron, one of Mechana’s rival city states, it had passed through the hands of engineers, students, and eventually soldiers before it found its way to Axius, each of whom had added their own contributions to its growing collection of odds and ends. Over the years since Axius had acquired it, its contents have developed to the point that just about anything he could have thought to use can be drawn from its endless depths.

Biography: Axius's tale began like that of many other slum runners. Once a patriot of Mechana, the City of Gears, Axius was injured in the incessant warfare fought between the discipline divided city states. His lower jaw was crushed by the butt of an enemy rifle, and while the mechanical jaw that replaced it was sturdy enough to last for a lifetime, his inability to speak made the social interactions that govern civilized life much more difficult. That harsh combination of disillusionment of his city’s glory and an accustomization to violence led him naturally into a life of crime. With his natural dexterity and inability to betray his compatriots when captured, he managed to find respect and advancement in one of the branches of an intercity crime ring.

Though the ring was primarily focused on smuggling goods between the warring cities, their ability to access a wide variety of markets made them ideal fences as well, which in turn made any thefts they pulled off themselves easily profitable. Over the years, they developed a reputation for being able to sell just about anything. Axius soon found himself in the role of a procurer, tracking down unique items for his organization’s diverse clientele. He found the Bag as a result of one such job, stealing it from the heart of the laboratory where it was being studied. While escaping from the lab, he used the Bag to save his life from multiple maniacal mechanisms, jamming one with a wad of glue and blocking a bolt from another with a hastily drawn shield. Deciding that the Bag was too useful to give up, he paid off the client from his own savings and kept it with him ever since.

Alright everybody, if you haven't gotten in, get in soon, the time limit is set at 24 hours from now.

Did I say 24 hours? what i meant was hey how about some awards

The Iron Chef Special Ingredient Award goes to whoever managed to use the specific definition of "Set" I had thought of when I started. And that definition was from the world of tennis, which means this award goes to Bigro for Game Setan Match!

On that note, I can't just give Above the Fold to a participant that's already won, even though Bigro was blatantly going for that, I think Solaris gains the prize for Seto Skrit drawing me in before I even got to the description. Floopy is a great word.

Related to Iron Chef, I've gotta give the 20Q Award For Confusing Me to the entry where I couldn't figure out which definition of 'set' was being used without asking, and that goes to Sai for Gaius Axius. And it's not your fault, I just wasn't all that familiar with set theory.

The Backdoor Worldbuilding Award goes to Schazer for Jonn Glaressa. Because honestly, I kinda want to read about this guy and their theatre, and more about what led up to it.

Diligent Gentleman would probably have to be Dragon Fogel's Eguid of the Seven Talismans, because really, it changes form per world and grants wishes to whoever finds said talismans. Works well for the changing settings and the varying contestants.

Close to this, we've got the best 'Works Well With Others' for the Synergy Award, which would go to Slorange for The Animal. What's up with this leather band? It's got spaces for more gems, but those other gems haven't been brought up. But there is the rabbity fellow who's carrying around some fancy gems, and this guy that's got a whole buncha talismans that change to be convenient shapes. But it's probably nothing.

Which leaves the Best of Show award, which goes to Red with Orvins the Slayer, who kinda went all out on the biography. Really make the legend behind the being clear.



Now, I wasn't gonna give out all eight awards since there are only seven entries but come on, bigro was totally playing for Above the Fold. I mentioned it earlier. I See What You Did There.


was it worth the wait

Username: Though his own is long forgotten;
Name: the name heard only as warning, never as greeting, be Katuali
Species: Silent bane of the Gulespoor, serpentine seakin
Color: See those bands of black and white, you're already good as dead


Biography: Long ago - though not as long ago as you'd think - when the second wave of gods arrived to Middle-Ocean and the Praeterwater, it was the Age of Heroes. The gods beget men, backs against Middle-Ocean, an endless world befouled by monsters spreading out before them. It was an age of pioneers, of Solbruin's children slain or tamed or exterminated one by one, to the goddess' great satisfaction.

Some way into the Age of Heroes, when those young races carved out their civilisations, the Seakin emerged from the depths, returning to the shallows and the shores. Some, like Sirocco and Levantine, came conquering. Some, like the striking Tricot Rayé, had never felt right living below the waves in the first place, and treated the new cities of the Finless much like home.

Rayé was a brash and violent creature, never starting a fight he couldn't win, and never turning down a chance to fight. He fell in love with the first one to best him - chosen of the weapons-god Wootz, the hero-to-be, Trevalli. The legend-aspirant had no interest in the advances of an unventuresome thug, so Rayé left the town (to much relief) and set off with Trevalli.

Trevalli's quest - with Wootz' blessing, but Trevalli's brainchild through and through - was to singlehandedly exterminate the Chitea, titanic telekinetic insectoids who shifted mountains with a gesture, blind to the mortals living on their slopes. While he'd already cleared the Disuncharted Lands of them, Trevalli resolved to venture out beyond and rid the world of the Chitea once and for all. Rayé and Trevalli's adventures were, for a while, joyous and bloody and victorious. Their relationship, constantly strained on those stretches where they were seeking a fresh trail, was always diffused in the thrill of the hunt and the throes of battle with their foe.

They were, perhaps, too successful. The time between hunts grew and grew as the Chitea's numbers dwindled, and the couple drew closer to blows without a shared enemy. It was one fine day, under a sun which Rayé had complained of non-stop for no fewer than thirteen nights, that Trevalli found signs of a juvenile deeper in the desert. Rayé, seakin as he was and already sorely tested by the heat, warned his lover that he would not follow, and would not wait for Trevalli if he left without him.

Trevalli took off, chasing the trail without looking back. Rayé leapt for his throat with a shriek, and was pinned to the ground with nary a flash of Trevalli's blessed blade. With only a curt farewell, the hero sheathed his sword and sprinted away, leaving Tricot Rayé sprawled and broken in the sand.


Description+Weapons+Abilities (from Solbruinnal - A Guide to the Beasts of the Disuncharted Lands, by Beaural Priestess Sonja): The Katuali is the vicious apex predator of the deeper Gulespoor, whose merciless defence of its territory makes exploration of much of the shoalgal a surefire way to die painfully. None who seek it out survive the encounter, but rumours have spread from the villages deepest in the gule-forest of a snake-tailed seakin. It ranks six metres long with muscular forelimbs, a white upper body and alternating black-and-white bands down the length of its tail, more commonly glimpsed in the canopy than amongst the submerged roots of the trees. It demarks its expansive territory with strands of Nefflim hair, presumably used as tripwires to detect intruders. It does not distinguish between those who seek it out and those who stumble into its territory, slaughtering any and all trespassers without warning.

Its vicious efficiency when killing makes much of its behaviour unknown, beyond the visible signs on the fringes of its territory. [The Katuali does not strike immediately; it will usually study its quarry for some time to determine the easiest way to kill it before launching a surprise attack. It will crush or otherwise incapacitate foes with its muscular, prehensile tail, stabbing particularly large opponents with its thumb-claws, which have been painted in hemotoxic venom. Possessing a weak jaw and comparatively delicate teeth, it rips its kills apart with its tail and bare hands. The Katuali is too busy patrolling its territory to rest while digesting large meals, and will cache much of its kill in the anoxic mud. Oddly, it does not drink from the waters below like other seakin; it instead gathers rainwater and dew in all manner of containers it arranges up in the canopy.] The victim's personal effects are rarely looted; the Katuali normally leaves them scattered about to rust or rot but seems to retrieve useful tools (armor, especially oddly, dish- or bowl-shaped pieces like helmets and shields, seem to be favoured) later if it requires them.

The Katuali's lair, ostensibly in the centre of its territory (the boundaries of which have not been properly mapped, and are assumed to be "wherever people aren't already living"), must hold something very important to the monster. The most credible theory is a relic from pre-Fall civilisation, though Seakin records (however sketchy in non-Ocean matters) detail a mating battle between two adult Chitea in the region, which would be expected to have destroyed any such buildings. Any other artefacts of note would now be buried under metres of silt, or cloaked in gule-forest. More research into the terrible creature's motives is necessary but impractical to gather.

Username: Truegreenosaurus
Name: Archeopterkicks
Species: Half Dinosaur, Half Bird, All Kicks
Gender: Manly Hero
Color: Blue, the color of justice and jump-kicks.

Description: You've seen his picture in museums and on billboards, and let's not forget the effigy launch on Kickmas Eve. He's not a big saur, being a little over 3 claws high, but his bravery and ability is legendary. His dignified visage has become the symbol for peace, justice, and the Saurian way. Always remember to look to his example, he is as heroic as a hero can be.

Weapons/Abilities:
Archeopterkicks is a marvel of physical and mental prowess. He can glide at over 100 miles per hour lift a whopping 10 times his weight! Even on the ground he moves with surprising swiftness and in forests and jungles he is neigh invisible. His eyesight is keen enough to spot a gnat from a mile away and his reflexes are almost instantaneous. He is the current record holder for strongest kick in existence. Oh and did you know he is immortal?

Biography:
Yes, he cannot die. Not by natural causes at least. He has been alive for over 150 million years as part of a boon granted by one of the oldest saurian gods. Since then he has earned a place of respect from many of the Saurian races for his multiple services to our world. Who could forget the time he rescued the Triceratops Farmers of northern Theras from the evil Tyrannosaurus Tex? Or the time he brought down the evil Cult of Deinonychus? But his most famous feat, and the reason he is so revered today was when he stopped that meteor that fateful day about 65 million years ago. Using an improvised slingshot and the help of some of his heavier friends he managed to launch himself into the meteor. He delivered the most powerful kick ever performed which redirected the meteor into Mars, inadvertently destroying a primary outpost of a Martian invasion force. This so frightened the Martians that they decided to leave the Earth alone. While the event almost destroyed Mars, who were saved only by their technological prowess, there is little ill will in the modern age. The event was a major turning point in Martian political systems, and lead to them becoming far less warlike.Today our trade relations with the Martian peoples have improved the conditions of both planets. Today the crater is filled by a lush Martian jungle and contains the famous Xz'pla Research Facility. They have an enormous statue of Archeopterkicks in their lobby, and welcome his sporadic visits with awe and respect. It is not every day such a historic figure graces you with his presence. Sadly Archeopterkicks is the last of his kind. The rest have evolved so much he can no longer relate to them. It is a sad state of affairs, but such is the burden of great heroism. So remember that Kicksmas is more than just about parades and kicking that toy filled Triceratops, it is the celebration of our world's greatest living hero, and a link to our most distant past.

dammit bigro I called this week you bastard

Username: Agenrawr
Name: Eli the Dinosaur
Species: Burger Store Dinosaur
Gender: Male
Color: #A000A0

Description: A generally amiable Tyrannosaurus rex with a nice fedora. He likes to visit art museums and local cafes. He has glasses he doesn't wear much because his arms are too short. A pacifist dinosaur, he forcibly reconfigured his entire biology through sheer willpower so he could subsist on salads.

Items/Abilities: Is a dinosaur. Also speaks fluent Spanish. Also has a comprehensive knowledge of surreal art and artists, especially Salvador Dali. Also worked for a burger joint a while back and knows how to flip burgers. Also knows karate but it wouldn't be right. A childhood in Little Rock has led him to understand and appreciate anything that isn't Little Rock.

Biography:

SpoilerShow

Username: Dragon Fogel
Name: The Commission for Overseeing Optimal Technological Security
Race: White, every last one of them
Gender: Male, every last one of them
Color: #6A5644 was good enough back in our day, it's good enough for you too.

Biography: The Commission was formed as a response to rapid advances in new technology. New developments seemed to come every week, and the legislature was having trouble keeping up.
In order to solve the problem, they recruited a number of retired officials - legislators, senators, judges, and businessmen - and told them to review newly proposed advances in order to identify potential problems before the technology came to the market.
The Commission was granted a broad purview, and before long, the problem of rapidly advancing technology was halted. In the twelve years of its existence, not a single new invention has caused dramatic global change.
This is largely because no invention has ever cleared their process. The Commission does not trust new things.
One day, the entire Commission vanished. Nobody noticed until three weeks later, when a proposal for a magnet-operated saltshaker was actually approved.

Description: The Commission is composed of about two dozen old white men, none of whom trust anything created since they were about thirty years old. That includes young people and their music, and have you seen the clothes they wear these days? Things were just fine back in the Commission's day, by God, and the young have no respect for their elders.
The other thing that members of the Commission really can't stand is other members of the Commission. Despite their shared distaste for everything new, they can never actually agree on the simplest of proposals. They constantly argue with each other, usually over nothing.
It's questionable if they'll even notice they've been entered in a battle to the death.

Weapons and Abilities: The Commission is unarmed, though all of the Commissioners claim to have served in the war. (Though you'll get a different answer from each of them about who the war was against and when it happened.) They have the legal authority to hold up adoption of any new technology - of course, they wouldn't have any actual jurisdiction if they were dropped into a new universe, but good luck getting them to believe that.
The Commission's primary abilities are bickering amongst themselves and complaining about today's youth. They can do both tasks for an indefinite amount of time, sometimes even simultaneously.

Username: guhbluhbluhbloobloo, you
Name: Deinonychef
Species: Deinonychus
Gender: Dino
Color: #b5b411 whatevs yo

Description: About 3 meters long, and almost a meter high. Kinda reddish-brown feathered under the chef jacket they are wearing. Struts with an air of authority; they are easily one of the world's greatest chef since the invention food.
Weapons/Abilities: Certified Master Chef w/ ~108-115 million years of experience as a gourmet chef.
Cooking knives and things.
Claws, talons, teeth.
Incapable of flight, but pretty dexterous in general all things considered.

Biography:
"Deinonychef, sir, the kitchen's ready as per your details. And may I say that it is an absolute honor to be-"
"RAAAATCH"
"Of course sir, my sincerest apologies. The flight will be leaving in forty-five minutes, but you may board now if you'd like."
"SCREEEEECH
"Right this way, sir."
...
"Your kitchen, sir. Is there anything else?"
"SCREEEEE"
"I'll take my leave then, sir."
Having dismissed his amateurish attendant, he rubbed sorely at his abdomen. By some miracle, he'd survived for millions of years since his birth in the early Cretaceous, but whatever miracle that was, it was fading. Death was probably not too far off at this rate, but damned if that was about to get in the way of his art. He adjusted his jacket and set about his work.
...
The plane was in flight. The destination: Shanghai. The patrons: the G-20 summit. The meal: --
"Deinonychef, sir!" His attendant burst in. "The captain said she's expecting heavy turbulence ahead! Will you-"
"RAWWWRK! RAAAAAAATCH!"
"No sir! No, I absolutely wasn't suggesting that, but I-"
"HISSSS!"
"Of course sir! I'm so sorry sir! I-"

Light flooded the room with a loud boom.

"Lightning! It looks like we'll be skirting a storm system, sir... Sir?"

Deinonychef was gone.
dine-o-soar, dyin'-osaur, dinosaur

Username: Sai
Name: The Tarantines
Species: Heretically Modified Spacecraft
Color: Vertical

History
Follow the way of the Dino with ardor in your hearts and fear no evil, that your scales may be the Armor that defends your Righteous Cause.

In the world we live in and all the worlds that fill the skies above us, there is a way of doing things. An objective Right and Wrong. That which follows the Natural Order is right - that which opposes it is Wrong.This all Sauri know. When we lived in but one world, that which we call Gi, the order was never broken. The Dino Saur rule was as it should be - the strong prove themselves by challenging others to prove their strength and courage. The weaker caste, Tapino Saur, obey their every command. With wisdom born of might, the Sauri society advanced. We grew in both strength and numbers, until the surface of our world could support no more meat for the Dino Saur to consume. Pressed against the limits of what one world could sustain, we set our sights on the stars.

The first ships to travel to other worlds consisted entirely of the Tapino Saur. At the time we had not yet learned to value that strength which comes from the end of a blaster cannon, and thought no true Dino would suffer to cram themselves into a space where raw strength gives way to dexterity. While many of the first colonies failed, some managed to survive thanks to the remote guidance from their wise Dino overlords. Such was the wisdom of our ancestors that even with the delay in communication, the leadership of the true Dino could direct the far flung Tapino Saur to thrive.

After some generations of growth and breeding, meat from the other worlds began to arrive and it was good. But time passed, and the delay between the guidance of our ancestors and their subjects on the distant worlds began to cause difficulties for the foolish Tapino Saur. Some shipments were oddly reduced, others lost, and worst of all some colonies lost contact entirely. Now reliant on our colonies for food, a great council was called for the Dino Saur. Such a gathering of might and knowledge had never before been seen, and hundreds were slain in the ensuing discussion. Eventually, a new code of honor was written, forged with the talons of the victorious Dino and quenched in the blood of those whose misguided voices would have led us to ruin. Construction of a great fleet began, ships designed to bring the greatest among us to the stars to rule our colonies personally with the strength and justice that can only come from the superior caste. Massive in scale, armored in majestic bronze, and bearing the burning might of a thousand Dino phalanxes, our ships set off to enforce our will upon the fools that had forgotten their place.

So began the First Reclaiming. Every world to which the mighty hoplites brought their fiery truth knelt in awe of their power. Some few blasphemers dared to oppose the forces of good. On land, the physical superiority of the Dino quickly put these heretics in their place. In the skies, the ignorant were purified by the scorching spears of our bronze armada. Soon, all but the most far flung worlds were returned to the light, with wise and powerful Dino now residing on the colonies to rule directly.

Justice must ever be watchful, however, and amongst the many worlds were several whose stronger caste were too few to ensure the safety and purity of their underlings. Cowardly weaklings who had survived the First Reclaiming in hiding, began to spread lies amongst the Tapino that made up most of the population on these worlds. Unable to stand and face their just rulers, these insidious heretics used a wide variety of underhanded tricks, ranging from explosives to poison, to cruelly murder their rightful governors. Across the worlds that our fleet had not yet reclaimed and these worlds which were torn from us through foul deeds, the rebels made their heresy open and declared themselves separate from the guides of our race. They called this abomination the Free Tapino Republic.

When word of this unthinkable blasphemy made its way across the stars, the response was immediate and all but unanimous - a new fleet was assembled. Knowing that these ships would be the messengers of truth and light, their architects slaughtered each other by the hundreds to perfect their designs. Larger and more beautiful than even their predecessors which had saved our race a generation before, the Platinum Fleet was built from the mineral wealth of our nearest and most loyal colonies. The greatest of our kind set out once again to fight for all that is Dino in what we now know to be the great conflict of our time - the Second Reclaiming.

You, o vaunted Dino warriors, heroes of our caste, face a challenge like none of our race have ever imagined. While the bronze legions of the First Reclaiming had to subjugate those few fools who dared stand against us, never before had the insane and befuddled combined forces as they have in the Republic. You must use your strength and skill at arms to bring justice and light to these lost worlds. Strike down the Tapino that have succumbed to madness and educate those who may yet be saved - the fate of all our kind depend on it.

Description
All must answer to the Strong, and all that is Strong is Dino. By Spear and Claw, Dino Saur command. By Scale and Claw, Tapino Saur obey.

Your target is one of the few Republic craft that have faced the might of the Platinum Fleet and survived. It is known as the Tarantines. Commanded by the mad Tapino Captain Kleftopolemos, it has become a symbol of the dark forces that still stand against us.

The frame of the ship was once a proud vessel of reclamation. Following the First Council, one shipyard came to follow the designs of the insightful Dino Ypsilos. Struck with a burning passion, he continued demanding that the ships being built be made taller, slaying all of his peers who recommended wider or rounder craft, until the shipyard came to follow the design philosophy which would come to be known as ‘Vertical Supremacy.’ Each component of the ship was its own level, serviced by four elevators which serve as the connecting components between these floors. The Command Arena nestled in the center of the ship, serves as its widest point, giving the ship the appearance of two spears, arranged such that the broad blades of their heads overlap.

However, since acquiring this mighty weapon of justice through foul treachery, it has been refitted to better suit the reprehensible practices of our enemies. Whereas the Dino Saur craft are paragons of both beauty and effectiveness, the lowly Tapino Saur fly a craft that is made to be as ugly as it is mundane. Wing-like appendage jut out from the now dull grey hull to serve as heat sinks, making the craft appear even more primitive than the heathens that fly it. Though flimsy and vulnerable to even the weakest weapons in our mighty arsenal, no individual heat sink is crucial to the operation of their ship and they are easily repaired compared to the more complex portions of the ship contained within its hull.

Just as the Tapino Saur know not the meaning of honorable combat, so too is this ship designed for cowardice. A set of oversized afterburners give it a potent, if unstable method of quickly gaining a burst of acceleration to escape our justice. Its weapon system is similarly designed to fight against our Ranseur armed crusaders, relying on the courage of the Dino that chase after it to continue pursuing into a hail of missile fire. Its weapons are thus primarily Javelin light missiles, mounted to be able to fire behind it or omnidirectionally, but lacking the precision that the more carefully constructed Dino weapons rely on. Additionally, the craft is capable of releasing water behind it in a vicious cloud, allowing it to use the speed of our own charge against us and allow this most primitive of weapons to tear through our hulls.

This craft was last seen by a wing of Sarissa cruisers as it fled their righteous fury into an ionized cloud. It escaped only by freak chance, as a bright bolt of light overrode the sensors of our strike team. When they had been recalibrated, the Tarantines had disappeared, seemingly without a trace.

Alright folks
I've been thinking about it but Ive finally found the one I find the most interesting

This week's theme is...

NANOMACHINES, SON

Username: General S. Pigeon
Name: Number 50000
Species: Ancient Robot
Gender: Nickel-Iron Alloy
Color: Green is not a creative color

Description: Discovered at a salvage site on planet Sol-3, the object is a bipedal robot that our xenoarchaeologists believe resembles the pre-extinction dominant lifeform of the planet. Records indicate they may have called themselves the Hunam; the robot is clearly modeled closely after its creators, and seems advanced enough to have been made a close facsimile save its visibly articulated joints and metallic exterior marked with "50000" on its chassis. While efforts to translate Hunam languages have barely begun and are largely fruitless so far, we believe "50000" is composed of numerals and equates to fifty-thousand, possibly indicating it is the fifty-thousandth in a series, or perhaps the fifty-thousandth one produced. The crew has taken to calling it Number Fifty Thousand; since it is incapable of understanding us anyway, it is as appropriate a name as any.

Though it mostly stays dormant – being active only approximately 8.2% of the time – it is extremely vigorous when it is not. Its periods of activity come at regular intervals; while the significance of those intervals has yet to be determined, our navigator pointed out that the periods of activity last almost exactly the time it takes Sol-3 to rotate on its axis thirty times. Best guesses suggest it may have been related to a religious or cultural festival of some sort.

Weapons/Abilities: During its periods of activity, the object almost constantly produces written material in one of the most common Hunam languages. It has a number of writing implements in its chassis and limbs, and when deprived of those tools it will attempt to scratch words into whatever surfaces it can. The first few axial rotations are marked by much less writing and much more active wandering, with the object observing and attempting to interact with its surroundings; it has displayed great strength and surprising cunning and utility in escaping bonds or storage chambers in an attempt to carry out its observations. We have since stopped attempting to restrain it, as the difficulty is prohibitive, the object is rarely hostile, and our xenolinguists believe that studying what it produces will be very helpful in decoding this particular language; it has been theorized that the objects and events it observes are recorded or commented upon in its writing. Experimental restriction of what it observes may give us a great opportunity to discern what words equate to what objects. Interestingly, the written works it produces have all been of approximately the same length.

Attempts at communication have been largely unsuccessful, as the object appears to be of only high machine intelligence, not truly sapient.

Biography: After several periods of activity and inactivity, the object's patterns and capabilities had been well documented. Or so we thought; nothing indicates that the Hunam had ever achieved teleportation capability (as would be expected, as teleportation is still only theoretical at the most advanced Milieu laboratories and the Hunam extinction occurred well before they had reached our level of technology), but upon its most recent activation, the object stood up, looked around, and vanished in a flash of light. Originally, metamaterials that made it undetectable by bending light around it were suspected, but no scans or physical sweeps could find it. We are forced to conclude it somehow left the station, but have few theories as to how it could have accomplished that.

Username: Dragon Fogel
Name: The Synthetron
Race: Laboratory Equipment
Gender: Inapplicable
Biography: It was an ambitious project. A device that could synthesize any element, and combine them to form any compound. It would have revolutionized the world.
Unfortunately, like most ambitious projects, ultimately it couldn't deliver on its results. It didn't even come close; for whatever reason, no matter how many tweaks they made to the thing, it would only produce sodium and nobelium. Eventually, after wasting billions of dollars, the project was abandoned and the prototype Synthetron was simply discarded in a trash bin.
The next morning, in place of the trash bin there was nothing but a pile of radioactive salt and the Synthetron had disappeared.

Description: The Synthetron is an odd-looking device, about the size of a toaster. There's a funnel for putting materials in and an output tray. A fancy logo on the side reads "The Synthetron". Otherwise, there's nothing particularly remarkable about it.
Well, except the way it glows sometimes.

Weapons and Abilities: The Synthetron can process literally any material and alter its chemical composition to that of either sodium or nobelium. On rare occasions, it's been observed to produce compounds containing one or both of the elements, but nobody could ever figure out what triggered that. It was almost as if the thing had a mind of its own, which was preposterous - it didn't have any computerized parts, so there wasn't even a chance of emergent artificial intelligence.
Likewise, the Synthetron has no capability to move. Someone would have to move it from place to place for it to go anywhere. But obviously the Synthetron has no way of convincing or manipulating people to move it, even if it somehow had the intelligence to want to move.
It's just a defective machine that somehow doesn't have an off switch even though we're sure we installed one at some point.

Username: True Desolation
Name: CentralControl
Species: Nanobot Hive
Gender: Leader, Director, Commander
Color: The classic red

Description: Small spherical object about 6" in diameter. It is made of silvery grey metal and is very rough as it is covered in multiple, nearly microscopic ridges and channels.

Biography: What you see here is the central control unit of the future. The ultimate factory, contained in one little ball. A state of the art AI and nanotech allows us to create the perfect infrastructure to provide anything you might need. Best of all it doesn't need traditional resources. While it would work more efficiently with the right resources, it can use whatever it likes, for example, desert sand. With the flick of a switch we can turn an entire desert into a powerful factory that can produce anything we want. Candies, desks drawers, ...mechanical parts. Oh but I'm sure you'd like a demonstration wouldn't you? Well it just so happens I've already distributed a few constructor units. Where? Oh you know here and there, just every major country in the world. Ah I see some of you are trying to leave, I assure you you don't want to miss this. In fact I've had one running under the city here for some time. My greatest and most successful experiment, don't you agree? And look at that, welcome welcome, see these marvelous constructs? Every one constructed by one of these shiny units. Look at that beautiful armor, oh and the classic bright red glowing eyes oh my! I left the aesthetic and basic design decisions completely up to the AI and I do have to say they came out marvelously. I do have to warn you, they are every bit as deadly as they look, so please, no weapons, no explosives, no flash photography. Wouldn't want them getting antsy eh? Hahaha, yes. As we speak my army marches on every country in the world. Soon I will be its ruler, and every bot and every constructor given orders by this unit right here. Ah ah ah, didn't I say no weapons, sneaking a gun in here tsk tsk tsk. I'm afraid you've broken the rules. Central Control, show the man what happens when someone breaks the rules.

Weapons/Abilities: CentralControl is a fully independent factory. It uses nanobots to deconstruct things to their base form and convert them into useful material. It then uses these materials to construct factories and constructors which build whatever it needs. It was originally programmed by a mad scientist to create an army to conquer the world. Currently it seems to have other motivations that require it to destroy the world in order to construct some great project. What might it do should it be taken from its army and placed in an alien world? Let's find out.

Biography: Young Criminal Mastermind Damon Higgins admired his latest handiwork with a smug smirk. Standing in front of him was a perfect replica of himself, identical in every way except for the fact that it was shining silver and he was not. He raised a hand in front of him and could barely restrain his evil glee as the swarmbot mirrored his action.

"Swarmbot, take the form of..." Damon trailed off for a moment thoughtfully, "Mindy Morgan." (She was one of the members of a band he used to like and who he still harboured a crush on.) The surface of the robot shimmered and then shifted, a wave rolling through the machine transforming it from the awkward angular figure of Damon to the curvaceous, unrealistic figure of Mindy. It was really quite impressive.

"Ooh, fancy." commented a voice from behind him. Damon turned with a start, ready to do battle with any intruders, but it was only his grandma. She was short and plump with a friendly face and snow white grey hair.

"Hey nan." He said, a little embarrassed as though he'd just been caught doing something he wouldn't have liked her to see. Damon started rushing around his laboratory; generally tidying things up and opening the blinds on the window to let a little natural light in.

"Hi dear," she said, "I just thought I'd bring you down a little snack. A growing boy like you needs to keep himself fed." It was at this point that Damon noticed the plate of Battenberg and the glass of milk his grandma was carrying. He took them from her and put them down on the side.

"Thanks." He said with a smile. "My favourite."

"So why don't you tell your old nan about your flashy new robot?" she asked.

"Okay so it's called Swarmbot and really it's not one machine but millions of tiny microscopic machines that can come together in whatever form you like." Damon said, practically beaming. His grandma had taken a seat at his computer while he spoke. "But not just that it has the capabilities to alter matter at an atomic level. Let me demonstrate, what would you like?"

"A cup of tea would be lovely dear." His grandma replied.

"Okay yeah I can do that give me a minute." Damon said and ran off downstairs to hunt for a cup. His grandmother sat and glanced around his laboratory as she waited; it was as much a mess as ever, filled with machines, gadgets and gizmos in various states of completion. She'd always said it was healthy for a boy to have a hobby. Sometimes she did wonder if she was doing the right thing in encouraging him, but she was sure he'd grow out of this whole Young Criminal Mastermind phase soon enough. Amongst the machines she spotted something like a helmet that she couldn't recall having seen before, picked it up and idly turned it over in her hands. It was wired to something but there was so many wires crisscrossing the room it was difficult to ascertain what.

Damon's grandma mused that she probably could have made a cup of tea the traditional way by now, and from downstairs she could hear Damon rattling through the cupboards. Out of boredom more than anything else she put the helmet thing on, and then everything went weird.

When Damon did eventually return, cup in hand, he found that the swarmbot was missing and his grandma was sat vacantly, wearing the helmet he'd intended to use to upload his consciousness to his new machine body.

Name: Swarmbot but more likely to respond to Agatha Higgins
Gender: Female by habit
Species: Nan
Text Colour: i dunno blue?
Description: Agatha was short and plump with a wrinkled but approachable face and short grey (but more actually white than grey) hair. She more often than not wore cardigans and a pair of glasses on a chain around her neck. Agatha has the capability to take whatever appearance she pleases, but for the most part she'd probably default to a replica of her own physical form. No matter what form she takes it would be entirely shiny silver.

Agatha is the kind of person who will be waiting for a bus with a stranger but by the time the bus comes she could practically tell you their life story. She's kind and caring and she has a tendency to take on other people's problems as though they are just as important as her own. She hates to see a mess and if left alone long enough will probably try to tidy up. She practically runs off cups of tea and will not be happy if she misses her soaps.

Items/Abilities: She has the ability to transform into any form she can imagine and the ability to alter matter on an atomic level.

Username: its me, im sol
Name: locals call them Choogs
Species: monster............................ nyorthern
Gender: many
Color: green icks
Description: Choogs are a manipulable hivemind of tiny somewhat mechanical somewhat fleshy creatures that react to and mostly interact with small changes.

Each individual Choog is completely and totally different from any other given Choog in ways that only Choog Farmers know, to most people they look like a small grey-blue blob with at least one black dot and various protrusions. Choogs are bred to be not very intelligent and usually are trained, but outside of a controlled environment have been known to develop a sort of, prime choog, that is more intelligent than most, but still mostly driven by instinct.

Weapons/Abilities: Choogs reproduce by budding, with each Choog spawn changing in a single way from the previous Choog. Normally, Choogs multiple up to about a hundred, at which point they only reproduce after a few of them die off, which is frequent given that by itself, a Choog is fragile. What a Choog doesnt have in durability, or even collectively, strength, it does have in gumption. If somehow a Choog hivemind is convinced to do something, the two options are that it is done, or all of the Choogs in the hivemind die. This makes farming them a tricky business!

As for what Choogs actually do, besides various sorts of menial labor (making a group move X to Y, keeping Z in place, get rid of ABC), Choogs can also bud into material that is defected in some way, and repair it. Single Choogs can also have various mutations that can sometimes change other aspects of the hivemind, but that is much more rare and difficult to deal with. If you can manage to corral and train the Choogs in the first place, then you'll never need to put much effort into fixing up your farm again!

Biography: Doctok, a Weghstern scientist of sorts, had been studying the properties of the less mechanical Nyortheners when he stumbled upon a farm of Choogs. Initially interested in their odd fleshlike characteristics, he convinced the farmer to allow him to observe the daily proceedings at the farm, where he was floored by their mutations and other properties. He stuck around for a while, hoping to eventually steal some for some more personal research.

After learning how Choogs are trained, Doctok stole a Choog from one of the hiveminds and returned to his home, where he slowly researched their mutations and attempted to invoke various different odd mutations, sometimes mixing Choogs with conflicting mutations together.

It got to a point where there where quite a lot of Choogs, enough in fact, that he probably wouldn't have noticed if a single one just disappeared...

you've got about 12 hours or so mates

Judging is currently delayed due to me being a forgetful lazy piece of piss and also The International 4 Qualifiers

Feel free to start the next week's topic mates

The Best Of Show Award: goes to Solaris for being the only person to use the concept of nanomachines to make something that wasn't just /made/ of nanomachines. no offense.

The Above the Fold Award: Slorange's number 5000 fits the bill.

The Iron Chef Special Ingredient Award: a radioactive salt maker Fogel? that's a new one...

The Backdoor Worldbuilding Award: Truegreen's master control sneaks this one for the sudden change from what sounds like a man giving a scientific tour to a sinister show of power.

The Diligent Gentleman Award: Ix, how kind of you to give a nice old lady whose son is still living in her basement a mighty body of transformative nanobots!

The 20Q Award for Confusing Me: goes to Bigro because I feel like there's a stealth pun I'm missing in there...

okay i am the new boss around here and what i say goes and what i say is that the new theme is marx

as in karl marx?

Name: Brookfield Secondary
Gender: None
Species: Machine
Text Colour: Blue i guess.
Description: Brookfield Secondary is a small four wheeled machine. It is flat, square in shape and roughly half a metre across. Its casing is black with the words Property of Brookfield Secondary printed on its front in block capitals, and in smaller print beneath it a serial number. The only other notable feature upon its body is a small upwards facing aperture in the centre of its square body. Through this aperture it can project a holographic image of a human being, giving the impression of a person walking upon (actually hovering a couple of centimetres above) its flat body.

The only hologram programmed into Brookfield Secondary is a perfect representation of the stern female teacher archetype: an austere looking woman with mousy brown hair tied into a bun, spectacles (they were too formal to be called glasses) and plain grey clothing. The hologram has a slight blue hue throughout (this is due to a short lived government initiative to make holograms visually distinctive to ensure their instant recognisability).

Brookfield's primary function is to mark. Normally it would not venture beyond the Headmaster's office and simply sit, receive emailled copies of homework assigns or exam papers, efficiently mark them and send the resulting files onto teachers. The only time it would be wheeled out in front of the student population would be to mark foreign language oral examinations or music or drama assignments. Occasionally it may be required to give direct feedback to students, which it will do enthusiastically.

In the event of unauthorised persons trying to lift up the machine itself it will sound an extremely loud alarm for thirty seconds and then administer progressively stronger electric shocks until the unauthorised person releases it.

Items/Abilities: Brookfield Secondary contains an incredible wealth of information on all curriculum subjects. As previously noted it can project a hologram to interact with others, though it would prefer to interact primarily through electronic correspondence. Its wheels are adjustable to allow it to navigate slightly uneven terrain but as it was never designed to function outdoors it would have trouble doing so.

Biography: Created as part of a government initiative to lighten the load of overworked teachers, Brookfield Secondary is just one of many marking machines sent to schools across the country. Unusually for a government project it performed its task commendably, with a minimum of catastrophic errors. One day it was wheeled out to mark a play written and performed by Class F10. It was instructed that it should give direct feedback to the students, though it should generally try to avoid disrupting the flow of a scene. When it mysteriously vanished the only man who knew the code to deactivate it was left behind.