. Character you have created: Chike Baatul Alias: Polemos (The Greek word for war) Speech Color: N/A at the moment. Character Alignment: Walking the Line Identity: Known Character Personality: Outside of Ares’ influence, Chike is an upstanding individual. He gives to the poor, helps strangers when they are not only in danger, but when they are struggling with some kind of burden as well. He believes that most human beings, deep down, are capable of being good. He doesn’t blame the thief for stealing, or the psychopath for killing. One does it out of necessity – the other is unable to help himself. Chike has the willpower to push on through any tribulation, because he knows that if he were to surrender, then he will practically be handing over the innocent and defenseless into the hands of the Evil Ones. However, Ares has significant influence over Chike as long as they are connected. With Ares in his head, Chike is forced to kill more often than he wishes he had to. Pure, unbridled rage could take control of Chike at any moment, if he were to let Ares’ bloodlust take even an inch of ground within his mind. Because of this fight, Chike has to limit himself at all times – for if he were to surrender himself to emotion, if he were to stop controlling his every thought and every action with meticulous precision, then bloodlust could very well set in. This would mean that people would most certainly die. The only time Chike will exert himself is when innocent bystanders are in harm’s way. The only time he will risk the bloodlust is when he knows that if he doesn’t, someone who doesn’t deserve it will be sent down to meet Hades. If Chike has to choose between killing a criminal and saving an innocent, he will not hesitate to aim for the killing blow. Similarly, if Chike’s life is legitimately in danger, he will usually attack to kill. In addition to all of this, Chike fancies himself rather witty and laid back, when there isn’t any danger involved. Uniform/costume: Chike stands at 5'10, and weighs 225 pounds. His skin is dark, and his eyes are brown, and his hair is black. This, minus the weird white nipples, though. For the appearance of a number of Chike's weapons, go here. Origin Info/Details: Chike Baatul was born in Kampala, Uganda on May 11, 1987, to Jonah and Mia Baatul, natives of the country. The Baatul family was small, Chike was the only child and Jonah and Mia’s parents were both dead along with any brothers or sisters they had. At the age of nine, while Chike was off playing soccer with his friends from school, Chike’s parents were kidnapped by a local terrorist group. They were executed and their bodies were put on display in the city, alongside twenty other individuals. Many speculate that they were targeted for their strange occult beliefs and practices. The government denied these claims, despite the overwhelming evidence that they all belonged to the same cult religion. Chike was devastated – he was left without family, and the government forced him out of his humble home. The boy was taken in by the parents of one of his closest friends, Dau Nyh, who was present when Chike learned of his parents’ demise. Dau and Chike grew up inseparable. They were both seemingly interested in the same things, and were physical and mental equals. Throughout his young adult life, Chike relied on Dau as his emotional anchor; losing his parents had been scarring, and Baatul had considered ending his own life on more than one occasion during the weeks following his parents’ unfortunate passing. But that all changed seven years ago, when a group of men in black masks broke into Dau and his family’s home. They were the same terrorists who had killed his parents. They abducted the Nyh family; and once more, Chike was not there when they came. Upon arriving home from a trip to a nearby village, Chike discovered that his adopted family was missing. Rage filled Chike’s heart, growing over the three days he was left alone in that house that wasn’t really his. This rage turned to determination: a determination for revenge, and justice. Chike began to look into his parents’ past, hoping to find a clue as to why the terrorists killed them. What he found was quite disturbing. The twenty-two who had been executed had been meeting in an abandoned mill outside of the city every month, and sacrificing animals to the Greek gods of old; specifically, Ares. From the various notebooks Chike recovered from the mill, he found out that they had believed that enough blood could bring the God of War to Uganda, and overthrow the ‘corrupt government’ and establish ‘Olympus on earth.’ They were surely mad. While he was at the mill investigating, he was jumped by the terrorists. They were all natives, armed with machetes and clubs. The leader told Chike that he had to die, to prevent the power of Ares from falling on Uganda. Filled with rage, Chike blindly charged at the terrorists and attacked them. He fought with such brutality and strength, with such unadulterated anger, that he was able to kill five of them. But the other four were able to subdue him. Moments before they executed Chike, a bright flash of red light filled the mill. The terrorists fell to the ground, their throats slit. On the floor, painted in dust, were the words “PARIS CATACOMBS.” Confused, Chike stumbled out of the mill, determined to find out what happened and where his adopted family had been taken. Chike searched Uganda and the surrounding countries for months, but he never found a trace of his family. Frustrated, Chike decided to take a plane to Paris and see if those words meant anything to anyone. There, Chike met Ceri, the owner of a local magician’s store. Upon explaining his story to Ceri, the woman decided to help the stranger. She arranged for Chike to meet with an elderly gentleman who claimed to know all about the catacombs. Together, the three of them ventured inside the underground tunnels of Paris in search of they knew not. Ares telepathically guided Chike through the catacombs, to a large room in the deepest part of the labyrinth. The group was led to a large open room, where the walls were lined with skulls and bones. The center of the room was dominated by a massive throne of bone. Upon said throne sat a skeleton with the armor of a Greek warrior and a crown of leaves upon its body. At its full heigh, the skeleton was easily over twelve feet tall. What surprised the mortals the most, however, was when the skeleton stood and spoke. It claimed to be Ares, the Greek God of War. He explained that his parents had been some of Ares’ last true followers on earth, and that he had planned to do as they asked of him, but that these men of flesh and bone that Chike called terrorists had disrupted the summoning process. This left Ares weak, barely able to stand let alone crush an entire nation. Ares then, against Chike’s will, made him his herald, claiming that his parents’ contract passed down to Chike. Ares then explained that Chike would act as Ares’ sword, and do as the God of War wills: and in exchange, Chike would have access to great power. Ares ordered Chike to take Ceri to America, to a city called Portland, in Maine. The two obeyed the God of War’s instructions. Upon their arrival, they were greeted by an ugly, crippled old man in a limousine. The man called himself Hephaestus, and brought the two to his personal mansion. He explained that the mansion would be Chike and Ceri’s new home, and that he would provide the avatar of Ares with whatever he required. Five years have passed since Chike’s arrival to Portland. He has been given Hero Type (Select one): Supernatural (I’d classify him as a ‘divine agent’) Power Level (Select one below): C. World Level Powers: Chike was imbued with the powers of the heroes of Greece by his master, Ares. Strength of Hercules: Chike has been blessed with immense physical strength of Hercules. Speed of Hermes: Chike has been blessed with the swift speed and reflexes of the Messenger of the Gods. Body of Achilles: Chike has been blessed with the durability of Achilles. Fire of Hephaestus: Chike has been given the power to create and control the mystical fire that ‘doth not cease to burn.’ As a side effect, Chike is resistant to heat and fire, though not immune. Wings of Icarus: Chike is able to take flight, like Icarus of old. Olympian physiology: Chike has a low-end healing factor. Flesh wounds generally only take three to four hours to heal; broken bones only two to three weeks. He is also resistant to toxins. (Though he is far from immune) Chike is also not required to breathe, though he does so when he wishes to blend in with other humans. Finally, Chike has enhanced senses. His sight, smell, taste, touch and hearing are all better than peak human. Skill of Ares: Chike has been blessed with the weapon skills of the God of War. Attributes (Select one at each category): Strength Level: 100+ tons Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 90 MPH Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: 3 hours Agility: 10X Intelligence: Average [NOTE: Tactical knowledge of Ares at his disposal.) Fighting Skill: Mastered (Using his weapons only. Unarmed he is an untrained brawler.) Resources: Extreme (He has access to Hephaestus, the god smith. If he needs anything, Hephaestus can build it (or buy it) for him. Ares has a vast network of connections to provide for his servant as well.) Weaknesses: Achilles’ Heel – Like the great Achilles before him, Chike’s body might be neigh-invulnerable, but his heel lacks any sort of superhuman durability. One good cut on his LEFT heel will leave him incapacitated. A superhuman blunt force attack will shatter his heel bone. Magical warding – Chike only has his powers as long as he is telepathically connected to Ares. If the God of War weakens, so does Chike; if a magician can block off their mystic link, Chike loses his powers until he comes into contact with Ares again. Servant of Ares – As strong willed as Chike is, if Ares truly desired for Chike to do something, Polemos would have no choice but to obey. On occasion, Ares will force Chike to suspend his morals and has him do something Chike would consider an atrocity. There is also the chance that, at any moment, Chike could lose control of himself and become a killer filled with a lust for blood. Supporting Characters: Ceri Kendra – Enchantress and love interest. Hephaestus – Close friend of Chike and provider of arms and armor. Ares – Master, to whom Chike is rather resentful. Varnia – Sentient eagle, close friend and constant companion to Chike. Jonah Baatul – Deceased father. Mia Baatul – Deceased mother. Dau Nyh - Best friend and adopted brother, MIA. Mr. and Mrs. Nyh - Adopted parents, MIA. Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: Yes. I believe so. Weapons and armor: Chike's weapons have been forged by Hephaestus and blessed by the gods of Olympus. Sword of Perseus: The blade used by the great hero Perseus to decapitate Medusa. It has been passed on to Polemos by way of Ares. Armor of Achilles: Dipped into the river Styx alongside Achilles, and later Chike himself, this armor is invulnerable. Shield of Hercules: The unbreakable ivory shield of Hercules, now protects The Avatar of War. Spear of Peleus: A gift for Peleus created by the gods Kheiron and Hephaestus, and the goddess Athena. This weapon now belongs to Chike. Quiver of Hercules, Arrows of Artemis, and Bow of Polemos: Gifted the quiver used by Hercules and the arrows by Artemis by Hephaestus, as well as a newly crafted bow specifically for Chike. Sample Post: **"On your left, Chike! He's got a bat!"** Varnia, a golden-feathered eagle cried from high above the streets of Lost Haven. The dark-skinned demigod landed an uppercut on the beanie-wearing thug in front of him, knocking him a good foot into the air before he landed on his back with a thump and a groan. Chike whipped around at lightning speeds (metaphorically, of course) and grabbed the bat a second thug was trying to bludgeon his helmet-covered skull with. Chike snapped the bat with ease, sending splinters in all directions. The stunned criminal's face full of surprise turned into a face full of fist as he stood there, shocked at the strength of his opponent. Chike turned quickly once more, kicking a third thug in his side; it sounded to Chike's enhanced ears as if he cracked a few ribs with that kick. _In Zues' name, that was too hard Chike! _ He mentally scolded himself while battle raged around him. A fourth assailant dived for Chike's legs, while another simultaneously swung a crowbar at his face. Chike leaped forward, driving his left knee into the crowbar-wielding man's chest before the weapon could impact Chike. The fourth man fell face first into the snow, with Chike no longer within his grasp. Chike rolled with his landing, turning around to face the twenty or so remaining gangsters he was facing. They were though, Chike would give them that. But not as tough as he was. **_"Why do you toy with these cretins so, my herald? You are the Avatar of War! The mighty Polemos! You could punch a hole through their skulls without exerting yourself; and yet you hold back so much that you use barely any of my strength. You're wasting your potential, and my power. _** _How many times must we share the same conversation, Ares, for me to get it through your thick skull that I'm not going to kill anyone who isn't trying to kill me?_ A group of five more thugs charged towards Polemos, as one of the gangsters from the previous wave, the one who'd eaten a face full of snow, began to stand. Chike met their charge, jumping through the air and smashing his fist against one of their faces. Upon landing, one man brought both of his fists down upon Chike's back. He cried out in pain as his hands made contact with the durable superhuman.**"M-My hands! They're broken! They're f-"** The gangster took a fistful of justice to his face."Watch your mouth." Chike grunted, spinning around and backhanding another thug into the snow. **_They most certainly appear to be trying to kill you._** _I mean trying and capable of killing me._ **_To your right. He has a gun._** It was both humorous and disturbing, in Chike's mind, that Ares could say something like that so casually. As if it didn't matter. Of course, it really didn't: A gun wouldn't hurt Polemos. It was the thought that counted, though, right? Chike dashed out of the hand to hand brawl and rushed through the snow towards the armed assailant. The man, his face covered by a black ski mask, was aiming right at Chike: the Ugandan noticed that he was shaking profusely. _Ha, they should fear me._ He thought. Chike grabbed the man's wrist, pointing the gun into the air before punching him in the throat. Chike dropped the now-limp and unconscious thug into the snow before turning around and tagging another gangster charging at him. Two more thugs went down in quick succession, each to a single blow from the Herculean strength of Chike. Chike dashed forward into the crowd of remaining gangsters. He threw quick jabs at each man who took a step forward and dared to challenge his strength. Most of them, however, began to form a circle around Chike. There was about fifteen feet of space inside the circle to move around in. Chike turned around, looking at all of the thugs gathered around him.**"What are you waiting for? Are you prepared to surrender?" ** Out of the crowd, a seven foot tall beast of a man joined Chike in the circle. He wore what appeared to be a kevlar vest, black military pants, and a grey trench coat. On his head was a luchador mask, with a bull's horns poking out.**"I am El Toro!"** the giant cried, raising his hands into the air.**"I will kill you, hero, for attacking my men on my own turf!"** With that, the bull charged at Chike, head down. Like a real bull would. How cliche is this guy? **"Come here, tiny! Let's tango!**" Chike met El Toro's charge head on, lowering his own head and bringing up both of his open palms. The two slammed into each other, and El Toro began to push Chike backwards. _Right. Superhuman. Not all that strong, though._ Chike noted. Polemos dug one of his feet into the ground, and El Toro stopped pushing Chike back.**"You fancy yourself some kind of tough guy, don't you?"** Chike commented.**"Listen. I'll give you a chance to give up. I'll take you and your boys to prison, but there won't be any more broken bones. Do we have a deal?"** El Toro scoffed at this.**"I will crush you, little man! You wear a dress like some kind of woman!" **Chike's eyebrow twitched beneath the brim of his helmet.**"It's a tunic! A TUNIC!"** Chike shoved El Toro onto his gluteous maximus, before picking him up and throwing him into the crowd, knocking over four other men. _**It does look like a dress.**_ _You wear one too!_ _**I wasn't born in the last two centuries.**_ _Shut up!_ _**How mature.**_ **"Uhhhh...Polemos, Bullman's getting back up!"** Varnia warned. El Toro charged Chike once more.**"I'm done with you."** Chike muttered under his breath. As the bull was less than a mere foot away, raising a hand to strike Polemos, Chike reacted. He spun around El Toro, ending up behind the giant. He immediately whipped his elbow back, smacking El Toro in the back of his giant head. This attack, along with his previous momentum, caused El Toro to guy flying face first into a dumpster sitting against a nearby brick apartment building.**"Ugghhhh..."** El Toro groaned as consciousness left him.**"Go Chike!"** Varnia cried in excitement.**"Anyone el-"** Chike began, turning away from El Toro and looking at his thugs. Said gangsters were running off in all directions, leaving behind their unconscious comrades and friends. Chike sighed, and set off at a sprint after them. Just another day on the job.

BBCode is back!

@Nitemare Shape: I have posted my old character sheets in the character tab (now that BBCode is supported, which allowed me to copy and paste the sheet). Could you (or actually anyone for the matter of fact) look at my color choices for the character speech and let me know if any of them are too difficult to read? I am pretty comfortable with Iron Knight and Wasp (see her hider in Raptor's CS), but I was not sure whether or not Arachne and Raptor's colors were too dark.

. Hallelujah!

Character you have created: Taylor Zheng Alias: Maverick Speech Color: Normal form, augmentium form, fire form, rubber form, diamond form. Character Alignment: Villain Identity: Secret Character Personality: Taylor is the kind of person to consider adrenaline—the rush of combat or the glee of getting away with a crime—the purest kind of joy a human can feel. She is always seeking out the most dangerous thrills with reckless abandon and the most powerful opponents, treating nearly everything around her like a toy that she is free to play with, destroy or steal as she pleases. While she isn’t manic, her obsession with her own enjoyment to the detriment of property and other people borders on sociopathic. As far as evil, she is more along the lines of an arrogant bully than any serious mastermind. She won’t hurt normal people unless they get in the way of what she wants, but at the first sight of a Meta she will doggedly challenge them to brawl any chance she can get, villain or hero (though heroes are always much more fun). She adores “good, old-fashioned” battle banter with her opponent, but when such banter borders on insulting her appearance (most especially her “mannish” physique) or her control over her powers she can lose her temper. She loves watching professional wrestling, inspiring her costume and a few of her theatrical moves in combat. She reads comics often, and can get annoyed when the things she does don’t line up with how her comic book fantasy should have gone. She strongly supports the notion of anarchism, and severely resents heroes as liars and hypocrites. While people close to her have been caught in the crossfire of hero-villain fighting, she believes that controlling oneself when one can harness so much power is a waste and that collateral damage is bound to happen anyway. In a more intimate light, Taylor doesn’t see herself as the person she wants to be. Not due to her moral choices, as far as she knows; but rather due to her own astronomically high expectations of herself. Any moment of doubt is immediately washed away by seas of fury, as if she is terrified of the moment she may realize that she can never be as perfect and powerful as she wants to be. Seeing perceived perfection in others—popularity in social situations, wealth, conventional beauty—fills her with an envy that she, again, drowns in robustness to desperately stave off emotional pain. So far, her acts have not been very much planned, or at least planned with the intent to take over the world or slaughter people. She is easily responsible for costing the government fortunes in property damage, putting hundreds of civilians and policemen in the hospital, and stealing from top-security facilities, but something gives her pause when it comes to cold-blooded murder. Her bloodlust is largely unrelated to sadism, and while violence is the only language she loves, sometimes seeing the pain she brings to people face-to-face “ruins her fun”. She is terrified of being seen as weak and will desperately seek to disprove anyone who thinks so, to the exception of all else at the time. Since she has gotten her powers, Taylor has drifted, ever so slightly, from her “normal” group of friends. The more acute of them have noticed, and tensions are rising within the circle over whether or not Taylor’s posse are even useful to her at all anymore. She has become more power-hungry and bossy, thinking, subconsciously or otherwise, that she is superior to them for her powers. What effect this will have on her relationships has yet to be seen. Uniform/costume: Origin Info/Details: Taylor grew up surrounded by Metas—they were celebrities, local heroes, and leaders on a citywide and national scale. As a child, weaving through the darker streets of Lost Haven was tough, but taught her the valuable lesson of always putting herself first. As her parents had disappeared when she was two years old, she was a foster kid, drifting between homes, getting chucked into the next family as soon as the old one couldn’t handle her violent outbursts. Even while her relationship with adults was severely strained, she had a faithful group of childhood friends to rely on, from beating on neighborhood rivals together to organizing shoplifting plots as an avenue to extra money for the toys and entertainment they couldn’t get at home. Both boredom and adulthood became her greatest enemies, treated in her mind like the deadliest of diseases. When Taylor was 11, she took up weightlifting. While she was already athletic, seeing others, girl or boy, in her middle school who were stronger or faster than she was made her as angry as she was jealous. She poured herself into her athleticism, studying wrestling and judo techniques and squeezing free classes out of a local personal trainer, Bryce, in exchange for being an errand girl for him, delivering the steroids he peddled out of his gym to his customers. She trained alongside the closest member of her posse, Andre Shea, whose situation was similar and whose pent-up anger rivaled her own after years of foster-hopping. They watched out for one another, in turn watching over the younger members of their flock while they were too small to fend for themselves. Even through all the crime and violence, they were like a family, especially when Andre, at 18, finally left the system and scrounged together enough money to get an apartment where Taylor and the gang could sleep and avoid their surrogate parents. At that point, Taylor was 14, in her first year of highschool. She quickly became well-known to the school population as a delinquent of the worst kind; to the “weaker” students she was a deranged bully, to the teachers she was a nightmare, and to the jocks she was terrifying. While she was still peddling steroids--and eventually other drugs, at the request of Andre—she never took a single dose herself, seeing it as a “wimp’s way to power”. On the other end of the scale, Andre had fast become dependent on a strange pill that had recently hit the market, one with radical results and dire consequences. As his size grew and his temper quickly shortened, Taylor watched her friend of a decade metamorphosize into a monster. One day, while she was walking back to Andre’s place from school, his most recent girlfriend was standing on the lawn of his apartment building, looking bewildered and bruised. She explained to Taylor that Andre had become irrationally violent, leapt through the window to their third story apartment and crashed right down on top of a car before he continued running like a wild animal. Neighbors had called the cops, and soon enough the whole apartment was being searched. The police didn’t truly care about finding Andre, only ripping the place apart in a search of drugs and to drag away all the street kids that he had been harboring there. Taylor managed to dodge the cops, but seeing her friends pulled apart and separated into families across the slums left her feeling more alone and powerless than she’d ever felt in her life. Desperately, she approached her personal trainer for details on whatever steroid Andre had been taking, hoping he’d been the one to pass them around to different dealers. When he claimed he couldn’t give her any answers, after a full month of furious searching around, she resigned to the disbanding of the Shea gang, pouring herself then into her school’s wrestling team before getting expelled for breaking one of her opponent’s legs in the middle of a competition. She escaped jail time through sheer dumb luck: a sympathetic jury to her sad tale of a lack of parental guidance, an attorney bent on winning “unwinnable” cases for rep, and a judge who cared little for both the defense and prosecution, seeing them both as little more than a couple of inner city kids beneath his notice. Expelled at 16, she opted against reentering school, knowing she’d make more money outside of the law. The only adult Taylor knew at that point was Andre’s old friend, Christian, and so she approached him for a place to stay until she grew old enough to rent her own place. His cheap apartment in Little Sicily proved insufficient, and so much of the posse turned to Nan, the owner of a popular nightclub for the seedier underbelly of Lost Haven. She rented and owned an apartment for them until Taylor could own it herself, and in exchange a portion of the money the gang made on drug dealing and doing jobs for bigger fish went to her to offset the cost of the apartment. Andre’s disappearance hurt Taylor less and less as her world shifted to just trying to stay afloat. Her life was tough, but her family, her true family, was closer than ever, and the boredom and loneliness of school was gone, hopefully for good. Halfway through the summer, she had long since left behind her steroid-pushing trainer to work herself up on her own in preparation for her debut as a fighter in an underground ring. She saw how much money a champion could make, and, toting all her street experience as well as her natural strength, she entered the fray. The fights became easier as Taylor slipped into a natural routine, but the amount of money she was making off of them alone wasn’t enough to keep her happy. She needed more—more excitement, more brutality than battles won in a few well-connected punches. Her wishes were granted with the reappearance of her old trainer, Bryce. He busted down the door to her apartment late one night, just as she had come back from a fight. He was furious, and even before he whipped out a gun and started screaming Taylor knew he’d been popping the same drug Andre had. It seemed to affect him differently; his skin was oily, impossibly so, and his muscles seemed to hang off of him like rotting meat off a bone. He accused Taylor of stealing half of his stock to sell for herself before she left him behind all those months ago, demanding it back. When she insisted she didn’t have anything, he vomited some kind of putrid bile all over her, knocking her out instantly by the sheer stench. When she awoke, she was in the dark corner of his gym’s storage basement, where he kept the bulk of his stock, tied to a pole. His mutated visage huddled before the mess of boxes and tables, where he presented an entire baggie of the vile pills that had ruined his, Andre’s and many others’ lives. He explained that he’d stopped selling them when he saw what they did to people, but that he then had nowhere to put them. So, in his steroid-induced craze, he decided he would stuff Taylor full of them easily past the lethal dosage and see what happens. The first few doses tasted like poison. Her bones felt like rubber and her stomach turned to ice. Her chest ached like an overfull barrel straining against the metal bands binding it, and as the execution dragged on the flow of her thoughts grew jagged—waves punching a rock face, an eagle floating on the whims of the sky, a dark room where one madman killed another. First she felt sick; then she felt agony. Excruciating, enough to make a strong mind snap like a mouse’s spine. She stopped struggling when he shoved the last pill into her mouth, resigned to her freshly-polished spot in Hell hours ago. Bryce commented on how long she was lasting, assured that even an ex-protégé of his couldn’t stay alive through all the damage he just did to her system. When, thirty minutes later, she was still breathing, he grew impatient. He struck her across the face with a talon; still he was not satisfied, still she was alive. He took to punching her in the stomach and face, vicious and endlessly frustrated with her endurance. Just before he could land a killing blow, her skin turned into the same cold iron as the pole she was bound to. She was furious, she was hurting, and she was powerful. The chains that kept her bound to the pole snapped in one arc of her arms, and in the next motion she had her fingers locked around his neck. All the bile he spewed up rolled off of her metallic flesh like oil in a pan. She didn’t know her own strength. It wasn’t until she let go, minutes later, that she realized she’d snapped his neck almost instantly, that she’d been strangling a dead body. Her body turned to normal, and she fled back to her apartment, sickened and confused. Her posse was waiting in the apartment for her arrival, all horrified by her kidnapping and relating the thousand different stories of how they went looking for her. Somehow, they’d vacuumed up the bile from the section of the carpet where she’d been attacked, and while a faint smell lingered it didn’t have the strength to knock her out again. She waved her friends away, with more weariness than she thought she could have after all the adrenaline minutes previous, plopped down onto the threadbare couch to share what happened, and turned into fabric. She has been honing her powers for months upon months now, incorporating them into her daily life until they felt natural enough to be used in combat. She hasn’t started her streak of villainy on a particularly dazzling note, despite her personality: mostly just using her powers to mug, rob, and fight her way into money to both support her newfound obsessions and to provide for her family. She has abused her powers more often than not—though understandable, seeing as how much of her life was dictated by forces outside her control. Hero Type: Shape Shifter/Muscle Power Level: World Powers: Taylor possesses the ability to take on the embodiment of most any material she touches, if she concentrates on that material. Her ornate belt buckle can hold up to eight samples of any material she can fit in there, tucked into special pouches that keep the sample snug as well as in contact with the skin of her lower abdomen through special holes in the suit. This lets her have a consistent source of several materials she relies on in combat, such as a sample of metal, diamond or rubber. Her physically strongest form, made of augmentium—an alloy that is impossibly durable—gives her near-invulnerability, incredible strength and stamina, and an immunity to vacuums, suffocation and any ills that would normally affect those whose internal systems haven’t turned inorganic. In her diamond form, she is more brittle and significantly not as strong, but has increased finesse in combat as well as superior cutting ability with not only diamond fingernails but the occasional grown blade. While living flame, she will haphazardly blast everything around her with fire, with little care for both accuracy and bystanders. She can fly like a rocket, with great plumes of blinding flame trailing behind, but it is dangerous to do so, seeing as her powers are, at least in some small way, controlled by emotions: one moment of doubt, terror or rage could turn her supernova. Her rubber form is more agile than her diamond form, but lacks as much combative capability, instead allowing her to defend against ballistics or bounce from tall buildings onto shorter ones as a quick avenue of escape. Attributes: Due to the nature of her powers, here listed are the more common forms she may take with the materials she has available on her belt or in her environment. (Normal Form/Augmentium Form/Flame Form/Diamond Form/Rubber Form) - Strength Level: 500 Pounds/100 Tons/Cannot Lift/200 Pounds/1 Ton - Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Normal/Normal/Up to 700 MPH, Unstable at that point/20 MPH/10 MPH - Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: 2 hours/5 hours/3 minutes/3 hours/4 hours - Agility: 2X/Normal/25X/10X/15X - Intelligence: Average (Though below average common sense, very poor emotional stability, and an incomplete education. Her idea of a battle tactic is “punch or throw it around until you win”. One advantage: she knows the streets and scumbags of Lost Haven like a graft on her brain.) - Fighting Skill: Trained (Greco-Roman wrestling techniques, especially.) - Resources: Minimal (Whatever she can scrounge and steal.) Weaknesses: She can only maintain whatever form she takes while touching the embodied material directly, and moving away from it will make her lose her focus on it and return to normal after a few minutes or so. She also cannot shape her form without serious strain on her focus, such as growing diamond spikes or shaping her fist into a hammer. As such, more incorporeal forms such as water, flame or sand put so much violent strain on her concentration to keep herself from dissipating that she can only maintain them for a few minutes, though often less. Her weight is also affected by her forms. Dependent upon the material she is made up of at the time, she can range from being a few pounds to a handful of tons. Any pieces of her broken off while non-human, unless she is in an incorporeal form that can reshape to a degree, immediately turn back to her own flesh and will be treated as a grievous injury or amputation when she returns to her normal form. Her fire form is messy: violent, volatile in every way. To avoid a meltdown that would very much result in her dissipation (and therefore death), she can only maintain such a form for a few explosive moments, after which she is fatigued and emotionally drained. She has never tried taking on the form of anything even more volatile, such as electricity or even radioactive materials, and is both awed by and secretly nervous of the possibilities. Supporting Characters: - Nancy “Nan” Avina: The 40-something owner of the nightclub, The Tomb, Taylor and her gang meet up at. She knew Taylor through Andre, her son’s highschool buddy, and they’ve become friendly through the rough patches they both had to go through. She knows of Taylor’s powers and was the one who helped get together the design for her costume. She also gets a cut of whatever Taylor gains from her thievery and side jobs in exchange for paying for an extra apartment the gang stays in. - Andre Shea: Taylor’s closest friend for much of her life, about 4 years older than her. He has been missing for three years and has likely developed superpowers, like Taylor, as a result of the mysterious steroids he was abusing. Taylor would search for him, if she had any leads as to his whereabouts at all. A growing part of her has begun to loathe him for leaving without any notice, even if he might not have wanted to. - Christian Avina: Nan’s son. A friend of Andre’s, but largely unrelated to the gang. He and Taylor rarely get along, though they both share an affection for May. He works as a bartender for Nan’s nightclub. - Randy Paez: A member of Taylor’s posse since she was 10, and among her most devoted and impressionable. While he’s only 2 years younger than her (15), he tends to treat Taylor like a much more experienced, respectable source of authority than she actually is. He is often the driver in getaways for his sharp reflexes and quick thinking. - May Rojas: A rare new addition to Taylor’s normally exclusive little family, though more honorary than anything. Nan, May’s aunt, adopted her after her mother was killed as a result of a Meta fight. She most often stays in Nan’s apartment or goes to school, being a six-year-old, but will on occasion go with Taylor on errands. She is the only member of the posse that neither knows of Taylor’s powers nor participates in illegal activities. While Taylor will not openly admit it, May is the only person whose safety Taylor constantly worries over. - Gene Hart: The seedy operator of the underground fighting ring Taylor was a part of. He is among the most well-connected men in the city, if he can be convinced to give up what he knows. Taylor still visits the ring from time to time, but he doesn’t let her fight much anymore because of the risk of her killing somebody, which could get them all caught. - The other members of Taylor’s posse: To be introduced as the story goes. Note: Taylor is a huge pottymouth, but I've censored the worst of it. Hope that's alright.

IMPORTANT: Upon the realization that my account name was way too long and ran into the actual text, I decided to create a new account with a shorter name. To confirm that I am who I claim to be, I will repeat this special phrase on my other account: The leprechaun is in motion.

Double post. Oops.

The leprechaun is in motion.

Character you have created: Chike Baatul Face on Shield

The face on the shield is actually Medusa's face. Don't let modern media fool you on Medusa. :D

Character you have created: Chike Baatul Hyperlink to Weapons

Your link is broken. I was able to find the page through google. After looking at the raw data of your post, it looks like you have duplicated "http//" in your hyperlink twice. Also, Theoi.

Character you have created: Chike Baatul Ares dying...

I know that this was more of a "if Ares dies", but I don't think the potential of the Greek gods dying meshes well with Greek Mythology. The Greek gods are called the athanatoi (ἀθάνατοι, 'immortal, deathless') for a reason. These Greek 'gods' are like the Asgardians from Marvel in the sense that they are not 'real' gods, but I do believe that killing a god is more of a Norse idea (Ragnorok, etc.). Off the top of my head, I can only think of Pan dying in Greek Mythology (Plutarch) and of Osiris of Egyptian Mythology (who was resurrected by Isis, if I remember correctly). The Greek 'gods' being wounded is fine. I just think death is a contradiction to how they are described (athanatoi). Also note that the Greek 'gods' live in a place similar to Asgard in Marvel comics (of course called Olympus).

Huh, really? I'd always assumed those heads from the Perseus statues were accurate. Learn somethin' new everyday. Fixed it. I think. Fixed that little line, too. I need to catch up on my Greek mythology sometime. It's all pretty interesting.

Huh, really? I'd always assumed those heads from the Perseus statues were accurate. Learn somethin' new everyday. Fixed it. I think. Fixed that little line, too. I need to catch up on my Greek mythology sometime. It's all pretty interesting.

This is what Medusa looks like in Greek vase art. Wait, did the image on the shield just change? I sear that Medusa face was on the shield!

Wait, did the image on the shield just change? I sear that Medusa face was on the shield!

Yeah, the image changed. The guy in the middle used to have handwraps. How'd it change? Did you photoshop it?

Heh. I actually lost the original image while I was editing the sheet. So I used a similar one.

Post up! The First Ever (since I have been part of this roleplay at least) Create-A-Hero No Prize will go to whoever can guess who the mysterious character who has come to Zac and Kelly's rescue! The mystery and anticipation continues until next time on the (mis)Adventures of Zac and Kelly!

Heh. I actually lost the original image while I was editing the sheet. So I used a similar one.

Sounds reasonable

Hey guys, I'm bracing for Snowmaggedon 2015 (They really need to come up with better names for these things, there like, 8 Snowmageddons last year), so I may be awol for a couple of days, hopefully not. Also, Robeatics, you are approved. Also, Face Punch is approved barring any major conflicts with Ded. If there are any issues, I trust you guys can take care of that.

Hey guys, I'm bracing for Snowmaggedon 2015 (They really need to come up with better names for these things, there like, 8 Snowmageddons last year), so I may be awol for a couple of days, hopefully not.

Snownado 2015? The Winter Cyclone? The Monsoon of Snow?

Also, I have put up a WIP of the Olympians. I have not decided whether I should use Hesiod's or Homer's genealogy for Hephaestus, but I am set on using Homer's genealogy for Aphrodite.