C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

^{_{E V E C O F F I N ♦ W I T C H ♦ C O F F I N H I L L ♦ B L A C K M A G I C}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{”Some debts can never be repaid.”}

The Coffins, founders and original settlers of Coffin Hill, are an old family with their roots in Salem and their hands dipped in blood and muck. They have a history of power, wealth, and terrible secrets. Eve Coffin is the last living branch of her ancestral tree - and she is determined to let it end with her.

In 2009, at fifteen years old, Eve and her closest friends delved deep into the woods of Coffin Hill; they went in search of the fabled witch, seeking to strike a bargain. What Eve had failed to understand was that she was the Witch of Coffin Hill; in those woods lived only the creature that lived in servitude to the Coffin family, the source of their power and status. All they had accomplished with their ritual was untethering it from her bloodline.
Four girls had walked into that dark forest that day. Only Eve walked out, and she had been forever marked by what had transpired within the cradle of those trees.
She fled from Coffin Hill that night. Neither the town nor her parents would miss her.

Ten years later, she returns, discovering that the creature in the woods had hungered in her time away; that hunger and rot had spread to the town beyond the treeline. People had been going missing, nearly always reported near or travelling in the direction of the woods by those who’d seen them last. Only Eve knew the true culprit responsible for the horror that now befell the town more frequently than ever before. A decade to the day, she went back into those woods, ready to do battle.

She emerged three days later, not saying a word; Eve collected her things and left Coffin Hill forever, taking the curse of her family with her.

It’s been a year since she emerged again from those woods. Eve drifts now, haunted wherever she goes, too scared to stop moving in case she brings ruin and misery to stay with her. She is The Coffin Witch, the last one there will ever be, and she spends everyday repenting for the sins of her forebearers, carrying the burden of her family name with her.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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Eve's motivations are fairly straight-forward, even if the work involved isn't: use the witchcraft of her family to undo the damage her family has done, and protect the innocent from the malevolent beings of the occult world, and then eventually die alone with no children or legacy and let her family's sins die with her. She drifts from town to town, city to city, and does what she can to fight back against the ever-encroaching darkness as she travels.

My own goals are to use a new character that we haven't seen before in these games to write supernatural/occult mystery and drama stories. I read Coffin Hill a couple years ago, a friend's copy rather than one I picked up myself, and I liked the character of Eve and the horror-occult leanings of the story. As she travels she'll also be very open to crossover stories and community events, something I usually avoid in the endless iterations we churn through, and something that I feel might re-light the spark. If I want to write solo stories, I could just work away on googledocs; if I'm writing as part of a greater collaborative, then I should get involved. So let's get involved.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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<Snipped quote>

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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TBC.

MFW a new @Roman app appears in the thread.

So I'm going to start using the OOC more for planning and whatnot, a lot is said in the Discord and it's hard for me to keep track (and I know sometimes I can be part of the problem there).

So, is there anyone out there who wishes to have some kind of history/prior meeting with the Mighty Thor?

Hider [+]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

THE LIGHTNING KNIGHT

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^{_{SIR WALLACE AUF WEST ♦ MULTIVERSAL REFUGEE / KNIGHT ♦ CENTRAL CITY ♦ KNIGHTS OF THE LIGHTNING CROSS}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Even in the greatest darkness, a spark of light can still be found."
"For King And Speedforce."}

Sir Wallace of the Lightning Cross is my continuation, and technically, the sequel to where I wanted to take Eobard Thawne's Flash Story in Absolute. He's from earth 1349, one that's been devoured by The Great Darkness. Wallace is a warrior equipped with the speedforce, a soldier who lost his war. He will have to learn and adapt to the world around him, not to mention the fact that he has a younger doppelganger and a whole slew of people who wear the faces of his slain comrades. This story is about a man who left his doomed world behind, failed his duty and has to cope with the fact that he just wasn't good enough to be the hero his universe needed.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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"Shadowlands" is something I throw out a lot. And it's the brainchild I thought of while I was doing my last Flash run. A world where the Great Darkness, the source of the Shade's power, is devouring a world, and how the entire universe is affected. How the shadows is the anti-thesis to the speedforce, Shadowlands was Thawne's big heroic moment, his first real stepping up into herohood, one I'm continuing with Wallace, albeit in a different way than I originally intended. Through the lense of Wallace living in Earth 1, I will tell the story of Thawne's heroism, his own failures and most of what happened in that doomed world.

And what may befall this one, too.

Wallace's motivations aren't defined, to him. He doesn't know what he can, or should do. He was saved, either from death or from eternal rest. He used to have very clear motivations for what he did, and now he doesn't. And he does not know how to cope with that. In it, he'll find new relationships, primarily in the Flash family, but maybe outside of that, too. He'll have to learn about the sides of the speedforce his king never wanted him to learn, and he'll have to find his place in a brand new universe that is both foreign and scary.

In short, Wallace is the Future Trunk of the Flash family.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Knights Of The Lightning Cross, The Riders Of Lightning, Deceased:
King Savitar
Lord Bartholomew Allen Sr.
Sir Bartholomew Allen Jr.
Sir Jaysus Garrickum
Wizard Maximilian Mercurius
Lady Jessiah Quick
Honorary Knight Edward Thawne of Earth AC.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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[+]

T H E S H A D O W L A N D S

The quaint little town was silent as the night as the stranger arrived in the village. On horseback, his horse was big and strong, but old. It's once black mane had now turned gray from aging. He tied the horse to the post outside of the cottage that had a sign on the outside that said "Gazette Inn." Once, the Gazette had been a reputable establishment. One of the finest in the entire kingdom. The poets and writers would all gather there, to that mild degree that the news pamphlets were named after the inn. But, that was a long time ago. Before the war.

Before all of the destruction. He mused on the times past and a solemn sign escaped his lips.

The man wore a grey cloak that almost looked black. It was draped over his shoulders, covering almost all of his clothing, but the clanking of his steps betrayed that he was clad in armor. He walked into the inn, pushing the wooden door open with his left hand, the light bouncing off the dirty plate armor that adorned his chest. It was quiet. As it always was. A handful or so patrons, one barkeep who was sitting next to the bar, drinking a lukewarm ale. The man walked in and scanned the room. His eyes were weary. Tired. He hadn't slept in a long time. He knew well that even when he did, he wouldn't get much sleep anyway. There just wasn't enough time.

Time. Such an abstract concept that truly should have so little meaning. Times past, and times to come were all that occupied his mind, when he let it wander. Refocusing at the task at hand, he sized the barkeep up and the pudgy man, dressed in a butcher's apron that was a little dirty with spots of spilled beer got up out of his seat.

"Uh, oh, greetings Sir Knight. What can I do you for?" The barkeep asked the knight, whom sighed. Full-armor certainly didn't make stealth an option. He saw some ruffians in the back make a face upon the mention of the knight.

"An ale would do me just fine." He knight said, flipping a shimmering bronze coin onto the bar. The keep took it and grabbed the tankard, dunking it in the keg. Slamming the wet-glass onto the counter, the beer frothing. The knight took a swig and made a grimace. The ale was truly terrible. Tasted like shit. That's beer without any oats, he supposed. Harvest had gone to shit for the past five years.

"I've got a couple questions." The knight asked the barman who's eyes grew wider.
"Aye."
"I'm looking for a man. One James Jesse. A Rogue, cheat and scoundrel. He cheated me in a game of cards a few weeks back."
"Purple hair?" He barman asked, and the knight nodded.
"Aye. He was here a few days ago. Headed East, I think."
"East? There's nothing East." The knight told with an extra stern tone.
"Did I say East? I meant North. S-Sorry, times are tough, my mind is not what it used to be." The Barman corrected, sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped it off with his right hand, his sleeve rolling up as he did.

The knight noticed the black mark on the barman's hand and his grip on the beer loosened as he took a step back. "Right. I guess I better pursue Mr. Jesse, then." The knight said, making his way to the door, only to find two of the ruffians blocking the door. One of them was a head taller than the knight, the other about the same size.

"You shouldn't have poked your head where it don't belong. Knight. This isn't where you belong. You belong back behind those precious city walls." The thug mentioned, producing the long knife from his pocket. Twirling it in his hand. The knight scoffed.
The thug lunged at him, knife first, the knight took a step backwards, Upper-cutting the thug's elbow, breaking it immediately. His companion swung a knuckleduster at the knight, hitting him in the cheek, making him stumble backwards, where two more of the brigands had gotten up of their seat, one of them kicked the knight in his chester, the other swong his wooden club at him.

The club was dodged by an inch, stepping backwards the big guy guarding the door grabbed him by the hood, yanking him backwards. Pulling down the hood, revealing his ginger hair. From behind the barman, the trap-door to the attic opened a little. A crack. A crossbow peaked out and a bolt was let fly towards the knight's back. As the knife came at him from one direction, the bolt from another, and four very angry men attacking him. He found serenity. Quiet and peace.

God, he was tired of fighting. He was so tired of men being this stupid. Not seeing the big picture. How they'd try to kill him just for the chance to steal his armor and make a few gold. Not realizing the bigger picture. That the war wasn't over yet. It was only starting. That back east, the enemy was amassing their army and soon, it would all come crashing down. He fist-pounded the mark on his left shoulder as he was yanked backwards. And the room lit up. He caught the bolt and threw it back, hitting the purple-haired assassin in the chest, sending him falling down stairs to the attic. He dodged under the knive, drawing his own sword from his back, the blade being fitted in a reverse-sheath under his cloak. It was his short sword, his two-handed one resting on his horse.

In three strikes he had disemboweled the men, at a blinding speed where lightning filled the room and blood painted the walls. Their heads rolled, one guy got his arm cut off and then his leg. The other was cut in half and the last one simply got impaled. Painless, mercifull deaths.

Sometime ago, the Knight would've been sickened at this display of violence. But he wasn't the same kid as when he was knighted. He wasn't the squire who had spared brigands for the sake of redemption anymore. He was a soldier in a war that threatened everything. And defeat was never an option.

He cleaned his blade on his cloak and holstered it in it's sheath. Walking towards the panicked barkeep, whom was crawling backwards behind the barkdesk, only to be met with the body of the supposed bounty the knight was hunting, James Jesse - The Trickster laid there, the bolt lodged directly in his heart.

"W-Who the hell are you?!" The barman cried out as the knight extended his hand to him to pick him off the bloodstained floor.

"My name is Sir Wallace of the West. A Knight of the Riders Of Lightning, in service of the king. And I have to talk to you about the shadow who gave you that mark on your hand."

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

<Snipped quote by Hillan>

You look like you could use some insurance there...

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

Does Howard sell whole universe insurance?

... That's retroactive?
And brings all of your loved ones back?

Asking for a friend.

<Snipped quote by Hillan>

The Infinity Gems do. It's as easy as a snap of your fingers.

<Snipped quote by Sep>

If accepted, the way I'm using the Fantastic Four Doom Patrol allows them to have met and to be able to interact with just about anyone and everyone. Including the Thunderer.

<Snipped quote by Retired>

So they're more Heroes than Adventurers? Trying to get a good grasp on things.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

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^{_{V I C T O R V O N D O O M | S U E S T O R M | J O H N N Y S T O R M | C L I F F S T E E L E
A D V E N T U R E R S ♦ B A X T E R B U I L D I N G , N E W Y O R K ♦ F U T U R E F O U N D A T I O N}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Knowledge is power. In all the universe there is no greater truth."}

The Baxter Building is home to the Future Foundation, an organization founded by Doctors Franklin Richards and Niles Caulder with the mandate to improve the world through knowledge. The Foundation boasts a varied staff from dozens of scientific, creative, and general academic fields. It also houses an extensive student roster of what the organization hopes will be a bright, new generation.

Six years ago, the Future Foundation's star students, Reed Richards and Victor Von Doom, designed a device capable of interdimensional travel. They, along with fellow students and siblings Sue and Johnny Storm, and accompanied by the head of security and noted adventurer Cliff Steele, intended to use the machine to open a doorway and explore the strange new world. A malfunction and catastrophic failure put an end to the test, though, as the five were dangerously shunted into the other dimension. Clifford was severely injured in the arrival, his body mangled by a dramatic fall, and a deadly race against the clock ensued as Victor tried to repair the device before their suits' emergency oxygen ran out.

Reed and Victor each accused the other of messing up the calculations and causing the malfunction, and the heated argument led to Reed walking away to clear his head. With little time left, and Victor rushing to fix the machine, the Storm siblings went off to find and return Reed to the group. All they found, though, was Reed's shattered helmet and a cosmic storm that swept over the pair. The siblings managed to barely escape from the storm and return to Victor just in time for the four of them to transport back to their home dimension, leaving the fate of Reed unknown.

Weeks of quarantine followed as the staff at the Baxter Building forced the trio of Victor, Sue, and Johnny to undergo extensive testing to ensure no hazardous material had made it back with them. Cliff, meanwhile, was put on life support as his body slowly failed. During quarantine, the Storm duo began to display extraordinary power, which only prompted further testing at the urging of their father.

Victor, released from quarantine before the others as he displayed no similar symptoms, and having reflected during his weeks of isolation, had taken personal responsibility for the dimensional mishap that had cost them both Reed and Cliff. Deciding that he couldn't allow his mistake to take the lives of two good men, Victor, with the aid of Dr. Caulder, began to work on a project to save Cliff's life. Though his body was failing, Cliff's brain was in-tact and healthy, and after weeks of careful designing Victor finally had the solution: nanobots. While he couldn't save Cliff's organic body, he could ensure the man would live by replacing it with a mechanical one.

More weeks passed. Cliff remained in a coma, his body slowly being dissolved and rebuilt by the nanobots. Victor spent the days at Cliff's bedside or going over the schematics for the dimensional portal and how to guarantee safety and success in the future. The Storms were finally freed from quarantine after the two months of testing proved they posed no inherent danger to themselves nor others. Sue, a gifted biologist, immediately took a fascination with how the cosmic storm had altered her and Johnny's genetic makeup, and set about feverishly studying her new biology. Johnny had also developed a fascination with the changes he had undergone, though for him it was pure excitement over his new capabilities - and his desire to show them off. The three tried to find a new routine of normal, with each failing in their respective ways.

Then, Hell broke loose. Or, more accurately, Subterranea. A disgruntled, former staff member of the Future Foundation, Harvey Elder, enacted an assault on the Baxter Building using an army of giant subterranean creatures he called Moloids. The attack nearly succeeded if not for the intervention of Sue and Johnny Storm, each wielding their respective new powers, the quick-thinking strategy of Victor, and the then-awakened Cliff Steele - now in his new robotic form. The foursome and their fantastical talents drove back the creatures and defeated Elder's plans.

With this success, Victor realized the potential the group could achieve given their newfound situation. Taking after the costumed adventurer's of old, Victor bestowed upon the fledgling team the title of:

Doom Patrol.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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Mister Fantastic and the Fantastic Four are overrated. Doctor Doom and the Doom Patrol, though? Perfection. I really don't think I need to say any more about why I'm motivated to write this.

This is a group that has been around for years and has multiple adventures under their belt. They've been to Atlantis, visited Attilan, explored the Negative Zone, entered the Microverse, delved into Subterranea, and emersed themselves in Avalon. They've tangled with the likes of Blastaar and Annihilus while in the N-Zone. They've survived political upheavals and prevented the assassination of an Inhuman King. They've helped to fight off an alien invasion force that threatened New York City. And they've even dealt with the return of Reed Richards, maddened by his time in the Negative Zone, and prevented his homicidal revenge plots on several occasions. As such, they're a cohesive unit that has settled into their respective roles.

Like the Fantastic Four of the mainstream universe, this Doom Patrol is a dysfunctional family. And I'll be exploring their interpersonal dynamics just as much as I do their wacky adventures. And their zany escapades are a perfect vehicle for me to interact with the rest of the roster - which is my primary goal for this roleplay.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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The Future Foundation is home to many brilliant minds. From founders Franklin Richards and Niles Caulder to senior staff members Will Magnus, Steve Dayton, Bentley Wittman, and Phillip Masters. Their student roster includes the likes of Mal Duncan, Karen Beecher, Julie and Alex Power, Rita Farr, and Alicia Masters.

I'm not going to go through the entire list of enemies and allies faced and encountered, instead I'll save that to be revealed in the IC. You can infer from the places the Doom Patrol have explored who they might have met (also keeping it vague so that it doesn't affect potential Inhuman, Atlantis, etc. players). But I will describe the team's archnemesis:

Reed Richards was lost to the world for four months. That's how long it took for the survivors of the Negative Zone incident to exit quarantine, and for Victor to design a new, stable device for them to use to return to that dimension and attempt to rescue Richards or find his remains. However, time doesn't pass in the Negative Zone as it does on Earth, and for Reed Richards nearly three hundred years had passed. Thankfully, the same cosmic storm that had changed Sue and Johnny Storm bestowed upon Reed a genetic alteration as well. Not only was his body now capable of stretching, expanding, and contracting dramatically, but all of his internal organs, veins, and the like had been replaced by a singular bacteria sac. As such, he no longer needed to eat, drink, or breathe. Nor did he age as a human ought to. These changes saved Richards' life and allowed him to survive in the harsh landscape and acidic atmosphere of the Negative Zone for centuries. This gave him a lot of time to think. And stew. And cast blame.

When the newly established Doom Patrol returned to the N-Zone they were able to successfully find and rescue their old friend. They soon found out, though, that the man they had left behind was not the same as the one they now brought back to Earth. Reed Richards wrought psychological Hell upon them as he, while quarantined and under near-constant supervision, managed to sow discord among the Doom Patrol as well as access the Future Foundation's security system and use it to attempt several deadly 'accidents' for which he framed Victor. It took days to discover Reed's actions, and by then it was too late as he managed to escape his quarantine pod and set off a series of chain-reactions within the building that destroyed a significant portion of the laboratories, decimating crucial projects, and killing three staff members.

Reed would return several more times in various attempts at revenge through masterfully-crafted plots. As of late, the former friend turned arch-nemesis, now known as the Maker, takes refuge in the European nation of Latveria where he has formed a partnership with the country's ruler, Kristoff Vernard.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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The world was a kaleidoscope.

That was the first thought Susan Storm had as she looked out the viewports. Brilliant colors swirled and briefly formed into fractals before flashing by. Euclidean space seemed to give way to the abstract the deeper she and her fellow passengers hurtled into the unknown.

The sleek vessel she now stood upon, with its chrome interior and deceptively minimalist accommodations, shielded the blonde-haired scientist from the terrors outside. That same beautiful incandescence of colors, she knew, would tear her body into a billion separate atoms in less than a thousandth of a second. After all, the Microverse was not to be trifled with.

"It's terrifying." She spoke towards the transparent cockpit but her words were meant for another.

A man, tall with a handsome face, stepped up beside her and placed an arm around her shoulder. "It's wonderful, Sue," he corrected in his slight European accent.

Sue Storm smiled softly. She knew after all this time better than to try and convince Victor Von Doom otherwise. As much as he was a man of science, capable of clinically detached observation, he was also an artist. And to Victor, there was no better expression of art than that of discovery and innovation.

To borrow the words of another famed voyager, "to boldly go where no man has gone before!" That was Victor's drive in life. His passion.

She tilted her face towards his and raised on her tiptoes. Susan planted a gentle, lingering kiss against Victor's lips.

Though it was not his only passion.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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WIP

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

THE LIGHTNING KNIGHT

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^{_{SIR WALLACE AUF WEST ♦ MULTIVERSAL REFUGEE / KNIGHT ♦ CENTRAL CITY ♦ KNIGHTS OF THE LIGHTNING CROSS}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{"Even in the greatest darkness, a spark of light can still be found."
"For King And Speedforce."}

Sir Wallace of the Lightning Cross is my continuation, and technically, the sequel to where I wanted to take Eobard Thawne's Flash Story in Absolute. He's from earth 1349, one that's been devoured by The Great Darkness. Wallace is a warrior equipped with the speedforce, a soldier who lost his war. He will have to learn and adapt to the world around him, not to mention the fact that he has a younger doppelganger and a whole slew of people who wear the faces of his slain comrades. This story is about a man who left his doomed world behind, failed his duty and has to cope with the fact that he just wasn't good enough to be the hero his universe needed.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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"Shadowlands" is something I throw out a lot. And it's the brainchild I thought of while I was doing my last Flash run. A world where the Great Darkness, the source of the Shade's power, is devouring a world, and how the entire universe is affected. How the shadows is the anti-thesis to the speedforce, Shadowlands was Thawne's big heroic moment, his first real stepping up into herohood, one I'm continuing with Wallace, albeit in a different way than I originally intended. Through the lense of Wallace living in Earth 1, I will tell the story of Thawne's heroism, his own failures and most of what happened in that doomed world.

And what may befall this one, too.

Wallace's motivations aren't defined, to him. He doesn't know what he can, or should do. He was saved, either from death or from eternal rest. He used to have very clear motivations for what he did, and now he doesn't. And he does not know how to cope with that. In it, he'll find new relationships, primarily in the Flash family, but maybe outside of that, too. He'll have to learn about the sides of the speedforce his king never wanted him to learn, and he'll have to find his place in a brand new universe that is both foreign and scary.

In short, Wallace is the Future Trunk of the Flash family.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Knights Of The Lightning Cross, The Riders Of Lightning, Deceased:
King Savitar
Lord Bartholomew Allen Sr.
Sir Bartholomew Allen Jr.
Sir Jaysus Garrickum
Wizard Maximilian Mercurius
Lady Jessiah Quick
Honorary Knight Edward Thawne of Earth AC.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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[+]

T H E S H A D O W L A N D S

The quaint little town was silent as the night as the stranger arrived in the village. On horseback, his horse was big and strong, but old. It's once black mane had now turned gray from aging. He tied the horse to the post outside of the cottage that had a sign on the outside that said "Gazette Inn." Once, the Gazette had been a reputable establishment. One of the finest in the entire kingdom. The poets and writers would all gather there, to that mild degree that the news pamphlets were named after the inn. But, that was a long time ago. Before the war.

Before all of the destruction. He mused on the times past and a solemn sign escaped his lips.

The man wore a grey cloak that almost looked black. It was draped over his shoulders, covering almost all of his clothing, but the clanking of his steps betrayed that he was clad in armor. He walked into the inn, pushing the wooden door open with his left hand, the light bouncing off the dirty plate armor that adorned his chest. It was quiet. As it always was. A handful or so patrons, one barkeep who was sitting next to the bar, drinking a lukewarm ale. The man walked in and scanned the room. His eyes were weary. Tired. He hadn't slept in a long time. He knew well that even when he did, he wouldn't get much sleep anyway. There just wasn't enough time.

Time. Such an abstract concept that truly should have so little meaning. Times past, and times to come were all that occupied his mind, when he let it wander. Refocusing at the task at hand, he sized the barkeep up and the pudgy man, dressed in a butcher's apron that was a little dirty with spots of spilled beer got up out of his seat.

"Uh, oh, greetings Sir Knight. What can I do you for?" The barkeep asked the knight, whom sighed. Full-armor certainly didn't make stealth an option. He saw some ruffians in the back make a face upon the mention of the knight.

"An ale would do me just fine." He knight said, flipping a shimmering bronze coin onto the bar. The keep took it and grabbed the tankard, dunking it in the keg. Slamming the wet-glass onto the counter, the beer frothing. The knight took a swig and made a grimace. The ale was truly terrible. Tasted like shit. That's beer without any oats, he supposed. Harvest had gone to shit for the past five years.

"I've got a couple questions." The knight asked the barman who's eyes grew wider.
"Aye."
"I'm looking for a man. One James Jesse. A Rogue, cheat and scoundrel. He cheated me in a game of cards a few weeks back."
"Purple hair?" He barman asked, and the knight nodded.
"Aye. He was here a few days ago. Headed East, I think."
"East? There's nothing East." The knight told with an extra stern tone.
"Did I say East? I meant North. S-Sorry, times are tough, my mind is not what it used to be." The Barman corrected, sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped it off with his right hand, his sleeve rolling up as he did.

The knight noticed the black mark on the barman's hand and his grip on the beer loosened as he took a step back. "Right. I guess I better pursue Mr. Jesse, then." The knight said, making his way to the door, only to find two of the ruffians blocking the door. One of them was a head taller than the knight, the other about the same size.

"You shouldn't have poked your head where it don't belong. Knight. This isn't where you belong. You belong back behind those precious city walls." The thug mentioned, producing the long knife from his pocket. Twirling it in his hand. The knight scoffed.
The thug lunged at him, knife first, the knight took a step backwards, Upper-cutting the thug's elbow, breaking it immediately. His companion swung a knuckleduster at the knight, hitting him in the cheek, making him stumble backwards, where two more of the brigands had gotten up of their seat, one of them kicked the knight in his chester, the other swong his wooden club at him.

The club was dodged by an inch, stepping backwards the big guy guarding the door grabbed him by the hood, yanking him backwards. Pulling down the hood, revealing his ginger hair. From behind the barman, the trap-door to the attic opened a little. A crack. A crossbow peaked out and a bolt was let fly towards the knight's back. As the knife came at him from one direction, the bolt from another, and four very angry men attacking him. He found serenity. Quiet and peace.

God, he was tired of fighting. He was so tired of men being this stupid. Not seeing the big picture. How they'd try to kill him just for the chance to steal his armor and make a few gold. Not realizing the bigger picture. That the war wasn't over yet. It was only starting. That back east, the enemy was amassing their army and soon, it would all come crashing down. He fist-pounded the mark on his left shoulder as he was yanked backwards. And the room lit up. He caught the bolt and threw it back, hitting the purple-haired assassin in the chest, sending him falling down stairs to the attic. He dodged under the knive, drawing his own sword from his back, the blade being fitted in a reverse-sheath under his cloak. It was his short sword, his two-handed one resting on his horse.

In three strikes he had disemboweled the men, at a blinding speed where lightning filled the room and blood painted the walls. Their heads rolled, one guy got his arm cut off and then his leg. The other was cut in half and the last one simply got impaled. Painless, mercifull deaths.

Sometime ago, the Knight would've been sickened at this display of violence. But he wasn't the same kid as when he was knighted. He wasn't the squire who had spared brigands for the sake of redemption anymore. He was a soldier in a war that threatened everything. And defeat was never an option.

He cleaned his blade on his cloak and holstered it in it's sheath. Walking towards the panicked barkeep, whom was crawling backwards behind the barkdesk, only to be met with the body of the supposed bounty the knight was hunting, James Jesse - The Trickster laid there, the bolt lodged directly in his heart.

"W-Who the hell are you?!" The barman cried out as the knight extended his hand to him to pick him off the bloodstained floor.

"My name is Sir Wallace of the West. A Knight of the Riders Of Lightning, in service of the king. And I have to talk to you about the shadow who gave you that mark on your hand."

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

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B E T A R A Y B I L L
B E T A R A Y B I L L

^{_{B I L L ♦ C H A M P I O N ♦ S K U T T L E B U T T ♦ K O R B I N I T E I M P E R I U M}}

• One of my going ideas is having Bill collect various weapons over the course of the RP or possibly fill another hero’s shoes.