Updated CS
Character: Ultraman (Kon-Il/Tim Taggart)
Power and Abilities: All those of the Normal Superman
Affiliation (Justice League, HAMMER, X-Men, etc): None, Pissibly rime Syndiate.
Alignment (Good/Evil/Walking the Line):Evil.
Character Notes (Anything you would like to expand on [Established Rogues, NPCs, etc]):Inspired mostly by N52 Earth THree Ultraman, however, I did wanna put my own spin on him.
Background and Story So Far: Ultraman's story does not begin on Earth. Nor does it even begin with his birth. His story begins with his Father. Jor-Il. Jor-Il was born to the prestigious House of Il and became a scientist. Later he married Lara Zor-Il. When Jor-Il was caught expirmenting bioweapons on innocent civilians, he was taken before the court. While in prison, he plotted to ensure the safety of his son and knew Krypton was doomed. So he sent his son to earth
Fearing for his bloodline, Jor-Il made recordings for the child to listen to as he drifted through space, swiftly making his way towards earth. The messages of power, strength, and self preservation and superiority of the self above all else were hammered into the child. As he crashlanded into a Minnesotan snowfield, he was discovered by John and Mary Taggart. The Taggarts took the boy in, raising him until he was seven, wherein they tried to abandon him. He promptly responded by burning their house down and burying them in the backyard. Not trusting humans thanks to the harsh messages from his father, Kru-Il bounced from foster home to foster home, merely passing the time as his body developed. When Superman revealed himself, Kru-Il instantly knew: He was not the last of his kind. But as he watched this Kryptonian, he grew into a sort of contempt for the other. This so-called "Superman" was selfless, compassionate. Where was his individual drive, his need for strength?
In the end, Kru-Il knew that he himself should be revealed to the world, but not as one of these "Superheroes." No, Kru-Il would serve only himself and his own aims and kill anyone who gets in his way. Thus, donning his father's old suit placed in the spacecraft he was ferried in, Ultraman was born. And the earth has Yet to See what he can really do.
Roster Picture:
Sample Post:
Metropolis, Day.
The city shone in post-dawn morning light, early risers and work commuters wallked the streets, some with purpose, others with lizard like lassitude. Husbands kissed wives goodbye, and sons waved mothers farewell. Buses chauffeured their fares, and taxis strode the roads with an obnoxious overconfidence. All of this was carried out with the normal humdrum of life; children rushed to school, adults to work.
From atop his perch on the Globe of the Daily Planet, Ultraman saw all of this, but it is not what he is looking for. He searched the city for a suitable way to make his mark, to make his presence known, to force these humans to feel his presence. Ultraman cracked his neck, and as he did so, the words of his father drifted into his head.
"Be strong, my son. Only the strong survive"
It had been years since his father had sent him to earth, a son saved by a pragmatic father. Jor-Il had not sent him here out of love, however. Jor-Il had done so to ensure that the House of Il did not die with Krypton. He had accepted that, even respected it. To him, it was merely survival of the fittest at work, natural selection preserving its deadliest predator.
Tim wiped the thoughts from his head, refocusing on the task at hand. He thought about his powers, and the names the media had given them. Heat vision, freeze breath; it seemed as if the news felt a need to name everything, to put monikers on their champions-and their nightmares.
Ultraman chuckled, a deep, rumbling bass muted against the wind. Nightmares. To the people, these so-called "Supervillains" seemed as if to terrorize the weak, the innocent, the helpless. To him, it was nature at its most basic: the strong root out the weak and predators hunt for prey.
HIS prey was gleaming overhead, its shining green neon L. towering over the other buildings as if it was lording its superiority over the city. One final crack of his knuckles and he fell. The speed of the fall heightened the adrenaline rush he felt, and a few meters before he met the ground, supersonic flight was engaged. He shattered all of the nearby windows in his path, his sheer speed staggering.
Meanwhile, Lex Luthor sat in his office, sipping a glass of whiskey whilst filling out paperwork. It was a banal part of running a successful business, but given the day he'd had, it was a welcome respite. Lex had sent Mercy, his driver-cum-bodyguard to the hall, so when his computer beeped a warning of hypersonic object on a trajectory of interception with his office, regret creeped into the back of his skull. The blur was beginning to take shape, a red-blue blur rocketing towards him. "Oh. It's Superm-" he blurted.
As Ultraman scythed through the reinforced window, bending steel and splintering wood, he smashed into a human, sending him back first. Lex slammed into the far wall, crying out in pain. Of course, the impact didn't kill him; it wasn't meant to. Luthor wasn't his prey. His building and its weapons were.
Character: Ultraman (Kon-Il/Tim Taggart)
Power and Abilities: All those of the Normal Superman
Affiliation (Justice League, HAMMER, X-Men, etc): None, Pissibly rime Syndiate.
Alignment (Good/Evil/Walking the Line):Evil.
Character Notes (Anything you would like to expand on [Established Rogues, NPCs, etc]):Inspired mostly by N52 Earth THree Ultraman, however, I did wanna put my own spin on him.
Background and Story So Far: Ultraman's story does not begin on Earth. Nor does it even begin with his birth. His story begins with his Father. Jor-Il. Jor-Il was born to the prestigious House of Il and became a scientist. Later he married Lara Zor-Il. When Jor-Il was caught expirmenting bioweapons on innocent civilians, he was taken before the court. While in prison, he plotted to ensure the safety of his son and knew Krypton was doomed. So he sent his son to earth
Fearing for his bloodline, Jor-Il made recordings for the child to listen to as he drifted through space, swiftly making his way towards earth. The messages of power, strength, and self preservation and superiority of the self above all else were hammered into the child. As he crashlanded into a Minnesotan snowfield, he was discovered by John and Mary Taggart. The Taggarts took the boy in, raising him until he was seven, wherein they tried to abandon him. He promptly responded by burning their house down and burying them in the backyard. Not trusting humans thanks to the harsh messages from his father, Kru-Il bounced from foster home to foster home, merely passing the time as his body developed. When Superman revealed himself, Kru-Il instantly knew: He was not the last of his kind. But as he watched this Kryptonian, he grew into a sort of contempt for the other. This so-called "Superman" was selfless, compassionate. Where was his individual drive, his need for strength?
In the end, Kru-Il knew that he himself should be revealed to the world, but not as one of these "Superheroes." No, Kru-Il would serve only himself and his own aims and kill anyone who gets in his way. Thus, donning his father's old suit placed in the spacecraft he was ferried in, Ultraman was born. And the earth has Yet to See what he can really do.
Roster Picture:
Sample Post:
Metropolis, Day.
The city shone in post-dawn morning light, early risers and work commuters wallked the streets, some with purpose, others with lizard like lassitude. Husbands kissed wives goodbye, and sons waved mothers farewell. Buses chauffeured their fares, and taxis strode the roads with an obnoxious overconfidence. All of this was carried out with the normal humdrum of life; children rushed to school, adults to work.
From atop his perch on the Globe of the Daily Planet, Ultraman saw all of this, but it is not what he is looking for. He searched the city for a suitable way to make his mark, to make his presence known, to force these humans to feel his presence. Ultraman cracked his neck, and as he did so, the words of his father drifted into his head.
"Be strong, my son. Only the strong survive"
It had been years since his father had sent him to earth, a son saved by a pragmatic father. Jor-Il had not sent him here out of love, however. Jor-Il had done so to ensure that the House of Il did not die with Krypton. He had accepted that, even respected it. To him, it was merely survival of the fittest at work, natural selection preserving its deadliest predator.
Tim wiped the thoughts from his head, refocusing on the task at hand. He thought about his powers, and the names the media had given them. Heat vision, freeze breath; it seemed as if the news felt a need to name everything, to put monikers on their champions-and their nightmares.
Ultraman chuckled, a deep, rumbling bass muted against the wind. Nightmares. To the people, these so-called "Supervillains" seemed as if to terrorize the weak, the innocent, the helpless. To him, it was nature at its most basic: the strong root out the weak and predators hunt for prey.
HIS prey was gleaming overhead, its shining green neon L. towering over the other buildings as if it was lording its superiority over the city. One final crack of his knuckles and he fell. The speed of the fall heightened the adrenaline rush he felt, and a few meters before he met the ground, supersonic flight was engaged. He shattered all of the nearby windows in his path, his sheer speed staggering.
Meanwhile, Lex Luthor sat in his office, sipping a glass of whiskey whilst filling out paperwork. It was a banal part of running a successful business, but given the day he'd had, it was a welcome respite. Lex had sent Mercy, his driver-cum-bodyguard to the hall, so when his computer beeped a warning of hypersonic object on a trajectory of interception with his office, regret creeped into the back of his skull. The blur was beginning to take shape, a red-blue blur rocketing towards him. "Oh. It's Superm-" he blurted.
As Ultraman scythed through the reinforced window, bending steel and splintering wood, he smashed into a human, sending him back first. Lex slammed into the far wall, crying out in pain. Of course, the impact didn't kill him; it wasn't meant to. Luthor wasn't his prey. His building and its weapons were.
