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@Crimson Lion
Here's the start of a character. I'll finish the rest sometime tomorrow or early Saturday.



Yeah, I'd be game.
10th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 205


In a moment, the man was on his feet. He double-checked his belongings, not exactly trusting of the Stormcloaks to return everything to him. His blade was there, as was his crossbow and bolts. And it also looked like the rope and bear-trap parts in his backpack were all more or less accounted for as well. Good. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, about where the sword rested as well. It was a peculiar weapon, curved (though not to the same extent as those found in Hammerfell) and more narrow than the blades typically found in Skyrim or even most of Tamriel to be honest. A knowledgeable enough individual could identify it as an Akaviri sword, the kind only known to have been previously wielded by the Blades. But most people in Skyrim weren't that knowledgeable on the subject, so he was rarely ever questioned about the sword in question. The rest of his gear was far more common and didn't stick out as much, so there was nothing really curious about any of it.

"Hmm... where did he say to go?" the man muttered to himself, trying to recall a... conversation of sorts he had had while in the The Pit.

A Couple Days Ago


The door leading into The Pit burst open and a new prisoner was tossed in without a second thought, "You heard, the Captain, no food or water. Have fun, you filth!" the Prisoner in question pushed himself to his feet and moved to a corner of The Pit, sounding like he was muttering something under his breath. He plopped back back on the floor and leaned back against the circular wall. He could tell already this was going to be a long three days.

That's when he heard it. Humming? It sounded like humming of some kind, coming from the opposite side of the Pit where there was more shade hiding whomever it was sitting there. Soon the humming turned into... singing? "So feline and fair... from the sands of Elsweyr... and through our glistening stare... perfect sight!" whoever this person was he sounded way too upbeat for a prisoner in The Pit. The singing stopped and a feline figure leaned forward from the shadows to look curiously at his new cellmate. He then offered a fanged smile, "Greetings to you, Friend! J'Varga welcomes you to The Pit." he said in what sounded like almost too happy a tone. He also reeked of Skooma, which certainly explained a lot about his current disposition.

"Let me guess... possession of Skooma?" asked the new prisoner. A rhetorical question, since the smell answered it for him. Or so he thought it would, anyway.

"Whatever makes you think that?" asked the Cat with an innocent chuckle, "Oh right, the smell. It was not J'Varga's fault this time, he swears it! That Skooma was not for smoking but for medicinal purposes, honest!"

The man rolled his eyes. Apparently he was to be cellmates with a crazy Skooma addict. Great. A long three days, indeed.

"Why does no one believe J'Varga?" the Khajiit asked in a sad tone, "The Stormcloaks did not believe J'Varga either, locked J'Varga up in this cold, wet Pit." he sniffed, almost sounding like he was gonna cry. But then he suddenly perked right up again, "But enough about J'Varga, it is very impressive - what you did. Standing up for a stranger is a noble thing, but as you can see, such noble things land you here in The Pit - with J'Varga."

"Wait, what?" suddenly this Khajiit went from being a weirdo to someone the man was immediately suspicious of, "You're down here, how can you possibly know that?"

"Ah, that is what we Khajiit like to call a... Trade Secret, yes?" replied the feline, "Truly a shame though. J'Varga senses much fire in you, yet no worthy cause to put it toward. Such a waste of talent and passion... unless of course J'Varga knew of someone who would be very interested in meeting you."

"Sorry, not interested in buying Skooma."

"No no no, J'Varga was not talking about Skooma. J'Varga was talking about another good friend in search of people with a fire like yours. Well, okay, maybe J'Varga was referring to Skooma also at first, but-"

"Okay, I officially think you're crazy. Goodnight." said the Prisoner, not appearing to want to hear what the Khajiit had to say. Both prisoners eventually fell asleep. But unfortunately for the newcomer, tomorrow was another day. He'd still be stuck in there with the rambling Khajiit.

"Are, are you serious?" asked Justinian the night before he was to be released. By then, J'Varga had talked his ear off about someone in Windhelm named Free-Winter. At a certain point, he decided to hear the Cat out if only to shut him up... not that that actually made him shut up at all. He'd also given the Khajiit his name, well, his adopted name anyway.

"Would J'Varga ever lie to you, his good old friend Gungnir?" asked the Khajiit with a toothy grin, "When you get out, go to the place J'Varga described, and take the hidden stash. Use it to get yourself some food and the rest to hire a carriage. J'Varga's dear friend Brunwulf will be waiting for you in Windhelm."

"Right..." he honestly still didn't know what to make of this crazy cat. Was the craziness just an act? No, no, the smell of Skooma was too real. But still, it wasn't like Justinian currently had any other leads for work or the like, so going to Windhelm might not to be a terrible idea. Assuming he could keep up his full-blood Nord act, anyway. If he was ousted, especially in Windhelm? Then things might go badly. So he would just have to make sure that didn't happen, "Fine, fine, I'll hear this guy out I guess. Can't be worse than sticking around in Falkreath, anyway."

"Ah, J'Varga knew you would make the right choice!"
@Bondye I could definitely go for a Cyber Sleuth-esque Digimon Game, I think.
@Iceheart @vancexentan @King Kindred @KillamriX88

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

Three Days Earlier


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Current Day


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

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

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

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

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