Sketches- July 2023

For Rinss and Manikin, a mountain of Tigerwolf and a suped up Ramattra- Enjoy! 

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Kotaro Ogami wasn't quite certain what had happened. He remembered sharing a truly magnificent meal with the rest of the Toraburyu, and then, a blackout. Now, when he had come to, the wolf was shocked to find himself the size of a mountain— and just about as immovable as one. The kung fu master tried to move, but it was like trying to jump while up to his neck in quicksand. Attempting anything beyond waving his arms proved an exercise in futility, and exercise was the word for it— Kotaro felt the strain and effort weighing on him for all the heft and mass that made up his own body.

Tigerwolf's enormous belly sprawled out on the floor like a tidal wave made of gelatin, smothering his keg-sized, blubbery thighs and weighing down on a rear large enough to crush a gundam. Reams of back fat were piled on top of one another like a melting wedding cake, his flabby arms were wrapped in thick reams of fat, and his chest was like a pair of overstuffed pillows, plumped and fluffed. Extra chins set like the rings of a tree trunk met his jaw and round cheeks, with Kotaro feeling just how soft he had gotten, even up to the lupine features of his face.

He tried wracking his brains about what could have possibly caused such a dramatic transformation, but nothing came to mind. But then, thinking overlong about food made his gigantic belly rumble like an earthquake. The mind reeled at the amount of food that would need to keep this new body of his fed— the only thing he could really do at this point is to try to keep this enormous gut satisfied.

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Ramattra would give anything to shield his Omnic brethren, and would do anything. To that end, he had altered himself from the ground up to better protect them, rewired his programs and every function of his body to serve as an aegis for any of the Omnics that would need him— and a terror to anyone that would threaten them. His work leading the Null Sector, however, had never led to his ultimate goal, so perhaps a new approach was needed.

He had engineered a new chassis and body, more powerful and as close to invincible as any Omnic could make it, was needed. Upgrades that no other Omnic had dared attempted made him into a titan. In doing this, Ramattra returned to his roots— a warmachine to end all warmachines.

He studied— read, admired— his new form, and curled arms built to shame Doomfist.  Biceps nearly as big as Roadhog's gut surged, glowing with electric power. The omnic was like no other of his kind in the world, now— every part of his body was corded with augmentations that could level mountains. His earth-shaking legs were like the mightiest pillars, his enormous chest and densely packed pecs outpaced tanks in their sheer size and armament. It looked like any weapon would shatter across his thick abs, and bullets would bounce off his torso as if they were nothing. The arms already spoke for themselves; enormous artillery that could hit like trains, swollen biceps packed tightly atop triceps like anvils. For a while, there was no reaction as Ramattra analyzed his own body, and then finally a curt nod.

"What is the saying to lasting peace? Speak softly, carry a big stick. I dare say this is more than a big stick."