Groups
Description
An extremely well dressed man sporting badges and clothes from all around the multiverse. Spencer is of average height and above average build: a strongman by look, but a wiseman by nature. His hair is parted down the middle and shaggy in length. facially, he holds records for the "Galaxies strongest jaw" and second place in "World's deapest eyes." If spencer were to disrobe one would find his body marked with various scars from countless battles, raids, barfights, and ballistic accidents. Looking past the scars, one would begin to see that tattoos of badges, stars, X's, and Tally marks have been inked on every avaliable surface: each a reminder or souvenier of battles fought, robots exploded, zepplins burst, anti air bombed, and videogame highscores beaten.
Personality
Cool, humorous, and suave, though always right down to business when business is at hand.
Equipment
He typically carries nothing with him, but his is trained in Kr'av M'gah, Kick Boxing, Karate, and Sumo Wrestling. when on duty however, his lethal-weapon body may not be enough. on such cases you can find him carrying his favorite sidearm, the Fatwasp. The fatwasp is a relatively old model with the ability to shoot two-inch long, five centimeter thick slugs with deadly range and accuracy. With all of his pockets, ammo is virtually unlimited.
History
too long to write.
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier steps into the bar with the swagger expected of a high-ranking metaofficer. being on duty, his metaofficer jacket concealed the Fatwasp, a virtual crossbow handgun with the ability to launch giant slugs with deadly range and accuracy. He stood just within the bar's enterance, examining the patrons. With a handsom smirk, he sauntered over to the nearest barstool and took a seat, elbows propped against the counter.
With a officious precense to fit his on-duty status, Specer strode into the bar, hand on the hilt of his rapier, moustached face looking about the bar. He smiled at the bars motley patrons: perhaps something would happen tonight... (havn't been on in about two months, anyone care to start something with me?)
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier Noted Jacks gaze but thought nothing of it. He nodded towards the man in a sort of rapier-wielder-on-rapier-wielder knowledge. The girl surprised him, but he only smiled.
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier 'Screw it' he thought 'there's nothing happening here so far, may as well make a new friend.' Spencer sauntered over to Jack, his official swagger not faultering in his casual mood. He looked down at the man's sword "Mayt I seh?" His Otherworld accent was thick, but understandable.
With an expression of happyness and pride, he announced "MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier, mehdam."
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier Reached for the man's sword but stop mid-action. "You may rehfer to me as such, lehttal Miss, though you cahn just cahll me Spence if yah preffer" He unsheathed the man's sword and gazed at it. "I lihk, dough mine is bettehr" He smiled, set the sword down, and unsheathed his own. It was an Otherworld model, made of an unidentafiable alloy. "Dis is a swohrd." He glowed for a moment then resheathed.
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier Ignored Jack's leaving. He turned to Tori, "Deh ahr swohrds, Miss." He patted his own, "and deh are noht meant fohr girls lihk youself." He winked patternally. Suddenly his eyes widened with realization. A little girl in a bar? "Ehrm Meham, what ahr you doing hehr? Dis place a bit rough, no?"
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier With an obvious wince at Jack Kelly's poor song choice Spencer yelled "Whatever happened toh goohd musics? Whyh noht some Gogol Bordelloh, Friend?" He returned his attention to Tori. "Grilled cheehs? would the cheehs not simpleh melt?"
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier "noh?" He was confused by her pouting. Who would want a sticky mess of cow curd? "Ahnd whehr is your pahrehnts, Miss? You are unattended, ahnd I, Beihng on duty, will have to spake with your pahrehnts." He shook his head. "Ahn In a bahr of all places?"
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier having been standing next to her, he now took a seat. "How did you geht hehr?"
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier "oy veh..." The Grilled Cheese arrived and he looked at it in surprise. "Dis is noht Grihlled Ches. dis is chesish grihlled brehed." The officer turned his eyes toward the awkwardly large case that jack had pulled out. A weapon? perhaps an instrument?
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier Took a reluctant bite, completely stonefaced, then set it down with the same lack of expression. He chewed, swollowed, and shrugged. "It's noh Ampiturian lion's -" he cut himself off as jack pulled out the impressive hand-artillery. "-`beak" he finished, still gazing at the weapon. He almost stood up to confiscate it, but just then his watch began beeping: he was off-shift. With a loud Sigh, he sat back down.
MetaOfficer Spencer Omnier Rolled his eyes as Tori walked away. "Childs, All deh same." He swivelled around to face the bar and extraced a handkerchiefe from his jacket pocket. He removed his hat that bore a similar insignia to that of many communist forces: a red star. After breathing onto the small metal hat-pin he began polishing idly, wondering if anything would happen.
RPG
