Player Name: Whiskey Business

Character You Wish To Play: Howard The Duck

Moral Alignment: Hero

Affiliation: Howard T Duck Private Investigations

Character Origin & Backstory: Hatched on another world from a different universe called Duckworld. Son to a Ronald and Henrietta, and brother to a Theresa and Orville. He was told at a young age that he had the potential to be a genius. Unfortunately, the Quackworldian never had the chance to prove everyone wrong. A demon named Thog, the Nether-Spawn, caused a shift in the interdimensional cosmic axis. This phenomena somehow plucked him from Duckworld and onto a planet in a completely different universe. Earth. He spent the next decade or so learning how to adjust to a world that was both different and eerily similar to his own.

Howard eventually found his way to New York, the superhero mecca of doomsday scenarios, and opened up a business as a Private Investigator. Howard T Duck Private Investigations to be exact. The clients are coming in like ceiling leaks. One singular drop at a time.

Powers and Abilities:

Powers:

Duckworldian Physiology: Not necessarily a power, but he insisted that I listed it as one. He provided an apt description about the biology of his people but I'll just keep things simple: Howard is an anthropomorphic duck that can't fly. (Howard yelling in the background) Oh, and he's a supposed genius back on Duckworld.

Abilities

Quak-Fu: Howard was trained by a Master... ("C'haaj!") C'haaj. He's apparently a formidable opponent when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. ("I defeated Shang-Chi once. He'll never admit it but it's true. Just ask the Watcher.") Who? ("You don't know who the Watcher is?") The creepy guy with the big ol cranium? ("No, that's Tony Stark...ugh, nevermind.")

Natural Mystic: ("Steve-O, The Sorcerer Supreme-O himself said that us Duckworldians had a natural affinity to the mystic arts.")

"I never said that. I said ducks are oddly attracted to Greenwich Village during the spring." - Dr. Strange

("He offered to teach me but I declined. I couldn't bare to see myself meditating in one of his funky robes, reading all of those dusty books in that creepy house of his all day.")

"First off, rude. Secondly, no. I asked if you wanted to try ectoplasmic yoga but you were afraid your astral projection would make you appear naked." - Dr. Strange

Genius Intellect:
"..." -Reed Richards
"..." -T'Challa
"..." -Amadeus Cho
*Cough* -Hank McCoy
"You mean for a duck? Then, yes. Definitely." -Dr. Bruce Banner

Sample Story Arcs:

1. Mallard and Mary Sitting On a Tree, D-I-E-A-S-E-S: Howard investigates an isolated outbreak in Hell's Kitchen that inevitably puts him on a blind date with Typhoid Mary!

2. 21 Duck Street: Howard and (another RPer) goes undercover as students attending a suspicious new school called the: Institute for Mutant Education.

3. Quack Wars: Howard and friends get sucked into the Nexus of All Realities, landing himself back on Duckworld where things are not what they seem.

Sample Post:

I was supposed to be in-and-out. Drop by, snap a couple photos, and then grab some take out for Netflix night with Tara...

But this is Marvel we're talking about…

...nothing's ever normal around here.

Howard stood perched on top of a scaffold attached to an abandoned building. A pair of pigeons had been following him since his clumsy parkour attempt across the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen. It’s been five minutes since he arrived and Howard was still huffing and puffing from exhaustion. The birds stared at him with their judgmental beady eyes, muttering to each other in pigeon talk.

“Oh go fly into a window, ya snobs! You try pigeon toeing your way around these parts without flapping your fat wings.” The duckworldian shooed them off. They uttered a rather harsh expletive to Howard before soaring out into the full moon. “Why are the birds here so racist?”

He shrugged to himself as he pulled out a hefty digital camera from his knapsack. The neighborhood was darker than usual. And quiet too -- no, wait there’s the sound of a homeless man urinating down a sewer drain. How oddly calming. Howard brought up his camera and zoomed in on the building across from him. He had a front row view into the boring lives of a bunch of tenants, going about their nightly routines.

The old woman washing dishes. The family silently eating dinner while staring into the small screens of their phones. The cosplaying Hulk, blankly gazing into his bathroom mirror as he smears green makeup all over his body to the sound of Adele’s Hello. Another cosplayer, dressed up like Daredevil staring directly at me in a room full of sleeping men. Wait… those guys aren’t sleeping.

Howard zoomed in on the scene until he saw their bruised faces and mangled bodies. “Oh…they’re not asleep. Well, technically they are, but not in the fun slumber party kind of way. That means that Daredevil guy definitely wasn't a cosplayer...“ Howard zoomed his camera out, but the costumed hero was nowhere to be found.

“No. Definitely not.” A brooding voice stirred in the darkness from behind him.

Howard flailed his hands in the air, involuntarily sending his camera down below. He cringed at the loud crash it made as it smashed against the concrete. Tara is gonna kill me. The duck-man turned to face none-other-than Daredevil himself, the guy he just saw several hundred yards away across another building.

“You owe me a new camera, horns. But more importantly: how’d you get here so fast?”

“Uber.”

“No, really. What's your secret? I'm not even going to tell you how long it took me just to get to this spot.”

“What are you doing here, Howard?” The Daredevil stepped into the moonlight, revealing the man without fear in his famous crimson suit.

“Hey I’m not trying to step on your toes, Pal.” Howard said, inching away from the heavy intimidation factor vibes oozing out from the masked hero. "Client sent me to this address to snoop on a Mr. Brownstone. That' all.”
The air suddenly went thick. Daredevil looked about in a panic before glaring back at Howard. “Damn it. Who’s your client, Howard?”

“Hey, that's confidential, man. I figured you masked types appreciated that kind of policy-“

“GET DOWN!” Daredevil tackled him onto the wooden beams of the scaffold as bullets zipped overhead.

“What the?!” Howard looked out and back at the apartment across from him, focusing in on the rooftop where a giant machine-looking thing stood. Its arms were extended outward, loaded with some serious firepower. A couple more shots rang out in their direction.

“HAHA! I HAVE YOU BOTH, NOW!” Came a raspy voice through what sounded like a PA speaker. “THE DEVIL AND THE DUCK!”

“Who are you?!” Howard shouted, but the machine man didn’t hear him. The gunfire immediately stopped.

“WHAT?” the machine man’s voice rang out with annoying feedback. Howard and the Daredevil cupped their ears in unison.

“WHO THE HELL-ARE-YA!?” Howard yelled at the top of his lungs.

“YES!” The machine man said, relieved to finally understand what was being said to him. “YES OF COURSE! HAIL-HYDRA!!!” Rockets, bullets and lasers exploded into the night sky.

I miss Duckworld…