[CHAR] One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

"If we cannot end now our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity. For, in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet." - John F. Kennedy
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ A MARVEL AND DC COMICS ROLEPLAY ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

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^{◼ G M (s): Master Bruce ♦ Lord Wraith ♦ ◼ G E N R E S: Superhero, Fandom ◼ T Y P E: Sandbox with linear and collaborative Arcs}

R O S T E R:

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AQUAMAN
@Natty

BATGIRL
@Zoey Boey

THE BATMAN
@Roman

BLACK PANTHER
@Byrd Man

THE BROTHERHOOD OF MUTANTS
@Ezekiel

CAPTAIN AMERICA
@Mao Mao

DAREDEVIL
@Byrd Man

DEATHSTROKE
@Lord Wraith

DOCTOR STRANGE
@Sep

GREEN ARROW
@Retired

GREEN LANTERN
@Alternax

GREEN LANTERN
@Hound55

THE HULK
@Martian

KLARION THE WITCH BOY
@Silverstein

LEGION OF DOOM
@AndyC

THE QUESTION
@Simple Unicycle

RAVEN & STARFIRE
@AndyC

ROBIN
@Bounce

SUPERBOY
@Supermaxx

SUPERMAN
@Hillan

TAWKY TAWNY
@Hound55

THOR
@Sep

VIGILANTE
@webboysurf

WARLOCK'S DAUGHTER
@Abstract Proxy

WONDER WOMAN
@TGM

WONDER WOMAN
@Lord Wraith

X-23
@Kyoka

THE X-MEN
@Ruby

[Master Bruce]

To apply, please copy, paste, and fill out the Application below:

Application Code

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

A L I A S

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^{_{B I R T H N A M E ♦ O C C U P A T I O N ♦ L O C A T I O N ♦ A F F I L I 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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^{"Witty Quote"}

This is where you outline your vision for the character including any notable changes or differences from the regularly accepted canon. This should be a short summary that provides insight into where the character is in terms of their overall progress and development.

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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Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go?

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

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Any additional notes you want to put either for yourself, the GM's or other players to help clarify your vision or continuity.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

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.

Alternatively, you can copy/paste this raw version of the code, provided by @Lord Wraith:

Raw Application Code

[CENTER][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][B]C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L[/B][/COLOR][h1][color=1E90FF][b]A L I A S[/b][/color][/h1][h r]
[img]IMAGE/BANNER[/img][h3][sup][sub][color=LightBlue]B I R T H N A M E [color=1E90FF]♦[/color] O C C U P A T I O N [color=1E90FF]♦[/color] L O C A T I O N [color=1E90FF]♦[/color] A F F I L I A T I O N[/color][/sub][/sup][/h3][img]IMAGE/BANNER[/img]
[/CENTER][COLOR=1E90FF][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][h r][/COLOR]
[CENTER][sup][color=ADD8E6]"Witty Quote"[/color][/sup][/CENTER]
[INDENT][INDENT][i]This is where you outline your vision for the character including any notable changes or differences from the regularly accepted canon. This should be a short summary that provides insight into where the character is in terms of their overall progress and development.[/i][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=1E90FF][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]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:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][h r][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go?[/i][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=1E90FF][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][h r][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]Any additional notes you want to put either for yourself, the GM's or other players to help clarify your vision or continuity.[/i][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=1E90FF][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]S A M P L E P O S T:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][h r][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.[/i][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=1E90FF][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]P O S T C A T A L O G:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][h r][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]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.[/i][/indent][/indent]

^{*Note: You will need to remove the space from the[h r]tags in order to make the horizontal line work.}

[Roman]

T H E B A T M A N

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

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

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^{“Criminals are a cowardly and superstitious lot.”}

The Batman has been operating in Gotham for five years, and while it feels like many battles have been won, the war itself is slowly being lost.

Working covertly with the GCPD through Lieutenant James Gordon, the city has struck a mighty blow against the organised crime families that once plagued it; but while men like Maroni and Falcone have been removed from their seats of power and their empires disassembled, friends were lost in the process, and replacements are eagerly stepping in - and while Gordon is a trusted ally, the GCPD at large remains sceptical of the vigilante's presence at the behest of their corrupt commissioner.

Worse than a mafia resurgence however is the looming storm of a new kind of threat to Gotham's citizens - the so-called 'super-criminal', an apparent response to Batman's existence in the ever-escalating arms race between those who wish to protect the city's innocents, and those who wish to ruin them. While Batman has dealt with a few of these individuals already in his half-decade career, more and more emerge every day, and all seek to test themselves against the Bat.

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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With an established Batman, I'm not looking to do anything revelatory with Bruce himself, running a fairly standard adaptation of the character with the tried-and-true backstory and enough wiggle-room in his career history for sidekick and/or legacy characters to be available for others.

What I do want to have fun with is re-inventing some of Bruce's rogues gallery, with concepts in place for Riddler, Magpie, Brother EYE, and Firefly, as well as exploring the underworld civil war as new criminal elements (namely Cobblepot and Sionis) look to move in on the power vacuum left by Maroni and Falcone's incarcerations.

I also want to remain open to interaction and collaboration, having all of the above occur pretty much concurrently to be advanced and explored at-will, either solo or cooperatively.

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

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Notable NPC's

_{G C P D P E R S O N N E L}
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
◼ Lieutenant, James 'Jim' Gordon
◼ Detective, Harvey Bullock
◼ Junior Detective, Renee Montoya
◼ Senior Detective, Crispus Allen
◼ Coroner, Leslie Thompkins
◼ Police Commissioner, Gillian Loeb}
_{G O T H A M P U B L I C O F F I C E S}
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
◼ Gotham Mayor, Aubrey James
◼ District Attorney, Janice Porter
◼ Editor-in-Chief, Gotham Gazzette, Jack Ryder
◼ Field Reporter, Gotham Gazzette, Vicki Vale
◼ Gotham University Professor, Edward Nashton
◼ Gotham University Researcher, Diedre Vance}
_{G O T H A M C R I M I N A L C I T I Z E N S}
^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
◼ Head of Roman Mafia, Don Carmine Falcone (Incarcerated, Blackgate Penitentiary)
◼ Head of Maroni Crime Family, Boss Salvatore Maroni (Incarcerated, Blackgate Penitentiary)
◼ Roman Mafia Hitman, Victor Zsasz (Incarcerated, Blackgate Penitentiary)
◼ Former District Attorney, Harvey Dent (Incarcerated, Arkham Asylum)
◼ Industrial Espionage Agent, Garfield Lynns
◼ Head of False Face Crime Family, Roman Sionis
◼ Heir to Cobblepot 'Fortune', Oswald Cobblepot}

Batfamily Career Timeline

I recommend opening in a new tab to zoom for readability.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Sample Post

Set the scene.

Gotham docks. Off-stage, yet his presence felt: ‘The Penguin’. Deposed heir to the Cobblepot crime family; now destitute, he grows desperate and ruthless in pursuit of the empire he’s lost.
The empire I have ripped away from him.

Tonight he brings drugs into my city, balaclava-clad men hauling wooden crates off of shipping containers and loading them into trucks. The cargo and containers are unmarked, but I have already seen the shipping manifesto; these crates may have come from overseas, but their purchase has been made through holding companies and shell corps that one can, when looking in the right places, trace back to a property development and construction contracting company based in New York City.
Fisk is attempting to purchase a stake of Gotham using Cobblepot as a figurehead. They will both be disappointed.

From my vantage point I can see eleven men.
Three loading crates; they are strong, but fatigued, and the hard work on a humid night has aggravated them; they demand help from the others, but are ignored. Tempers flare.
One in the truck cab; he is overweight and chain-smoking. His windows are closed and the stereo is loud.
Four dock workers, all paid off. Whether by Cobblepot or Fisk doesn't matter; what does is three of them are concealing light firearms, judging by their uneven gaits. The other is young and nervous, and wraps his hand around a single set of brass knuckles in his jacket pocket.
Two security guards, once again paid off. One guards the entrance to this pier - he's jumpy, and carries his hands together, awkwardly low and in front of him: he is holding what is likely to be a shotgun. The other is casually patrolling; he is openly carrying a pistol, with a heavy torch in the other hand. The patrolling guard is not jumpy, and he grips his pistol loosely. Carelessly.
The last man is the lookout; he is stationed atop the gantry crane assigned to this pier. He is holding an automatic rifle and has binoculars, an open-broadcast two-way radio, and has even been equipped with night-vision goggles, because he is here to look for me, and I operate from the dark.

He will not find me. I am above him. I was on this gantry crane first.

I begin tonight's work.

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'Eyes' is a dumb nickname, Eyes thinks, but these are dumb men and it is simple and effective and makes his role in the operation clear. They are obviously expecting interference tonight - but that is why he is here. His radio crackles - the voice coming through is filled with static, and is loud and grating. Ten minute check-in.
"[WALKER TO EYES. CHECK IN]"
"Eyes to Walker. Eyes clear."
"[WALKER TO EYES. OARLESS CANOE.]"
"Eyes to Walker. Western Fjord."
The radio crackles again and falls silent. Check-in clear. Eyes thinks he'll take another walk around the crane; the lights of Gotham's business district over the dock-water on a clear night is oddly beautiful. There's a good view of Wayne Tower too, the imposing skyscraper with its iconic 'W' fascia nestled among bank and media logos. He can lean over the railing and gaze out over the pier for five minutes, then walk back around for the next check.

Eyes barely has time to register what little noise comes from behind him before his forehead hits the metal railing and he bounces back, reeling - but not before his leg is kicked into the lower set of railings and his kneecap shatters. He would scream in pain, but as he twists around in his fall, the jagged, black shape that towers above him lashes out with one of its uncountable limbs and strikes him across the throat, silencing him as he sinks to the floor. Eyes' has one last sight before he fades out; terrible, inhuman horns, sitting atop a snarling black face, blasphemously haloed by demonic wings.

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I have nine minutes and forty seconds before the lookout fails to report at the next check-in and the men are alerted to my arrival. The guard at the entrance to the pier is sequestered in his booth, too far from the operation to be useful; the driver is not the fighting type. That leaves me a little over a minute to incapacitate each man.
Doable.
I leap from the crane, gliding softly towards the patrolman who has entered the furthest section of his route.

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Walker’s name is actually Walker, although he hasn’t let anyone know - to do so would be to defy the point of the codenames in the first place. William Walker. William after his father; he knows that much of the man, but little else. He spent much of his youth fighting ‘Willy Junior’ as a nickname, but eventually, gracefully, Bill stuck. Bill’s trying to be a better dad to his kid than William Senior was - not hard, as Bill’s mere existence in his son’s life is a step above the standard the old man set.

Bill’s a security guard at the docks, has been for 4 years. He knew what kind of world he was stepping into when he took the job - record turnovers, Gotham Docks, for all manner of reasons both sinister and benign - but there was little else in his skill set he was suitable for, and the job paid well for what it demanded of him. Tonight was the first time he’d been involved in anything explicitly illicit. The first time he’d been actively involved, at least, approached by a man in a suit with a roll of bills that totalled 3 months wage. 3 months wage for one night protecting whatever was coming off those containers - cargo that would have been coming in anyway, Bill thought, cargo that’s probably come in unawares on many of his shifts over his career. A quarter-year of pay for one night’s overtime. He could pay off his son’s braces with some left over for a real knock-out birthday present with what he was earning tonight. He felt good. A little dirty, but good.

There was a noise in the shadows to his left and Bill snapped out of his ruminations and whipped around, torch held out first and his pistol low and close to his body. He’d not fired a gun once in his four years on the docks, and didn’t even own the one he was holding now.
“W-Who’s there? Show yourself!”

There was another sound, behind him. He whipped around again, swearing under his breath and shaking a little. Still nothing. He took a few steps forward.

A quiet, sharp little noise rushed through the air towards him and something pierced his hand, forcing him to drop the pistol. It clattered to the ground, but Bill paid no attention; even before he’d yelled out in shock, there had been another small noise and a gummy, viscous substance had splashed across his mouth and nose, muffling his shout and blocking his air. He slowly sunk to the ground, losing consciousness, back against a shipping container as his legs gave way beneath him.

Ten feet away, across the path, the shadows shift and split and some cursed figure melts into reality; Bill can recognise a head connected to shoulders, but the rest of the body is an inhuman mass that bleeds into the floor, no limbs or torso or recognisably human features to speak of.

Consciousness fades. The darkness descends. The figure envelopes him; and then Bill cannot keep his eyes open any longer.

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The patrolman had been at odds with the job since the night began; I’d checked his record, and for a docks guard, it was as clean as they came. A little history, to be expected. But this was his first time being bought. He’d taken to it all too easily. They all do.

I lean over him and lightly wave a small bottle of solvent beneath his nose; the glue blocking his nostrils melts away, and I hear him subconsciously take a full breath, but he doesn’t wake up. He won’t for at least half-an-hour; the glue includes chloroform in its makeup to sedate the victim. I bind his hands behind his back, retrieving the batarang, and then head inwards towards the truck.

There are seven men left: the three loaders, and the four dock workers. The loaders are unarmed, but the workers aren’t, and the three with concealed pistols need to be tackled first. They’re mostly milling around, but one wanders away to urinate. I take him out first; emerging from the dark like a beast of the nine circles, enveloping him in terror’s embrace and smothering him until he stops struggling. I set him down and bind his hands, too, and then I take the pistol from the belt of his trousers. Well made. American. Probably Fisk again; Oswald’s no arms dealer, and doesn’t have the underworld clout to source firearms like these. I disassemble it easily enough, regardless of its manufacturer.

The pieces go clattering around the corner towards the remaining men; everyone ceases their tasks to watch as the sections of pistol slide in their direction from where their comrade had rounded the corner mere seconds ago. They all freeze; every single man on the pier tonight now knows their operation has ended, but none want to say it aloud. Instead, the two workers wielding pistols draw them and hold them tight and outstretched, and then heckle the worker with the dusters to investigate. He protests, meekly, then does what is demanded of him, slipping the brass knuckles over his fist as he approaches my corner.

He rounds it and see his colleague unconscious. He does not see me. I reach out and seize his wrist, bringing my elbow down across the top of his forearm, breaking his elbow sharply; he screams and I let him. I want them to hear his pain. I want them to fear the pain they are about to feel. I slip the dusters off his fingers as he whimpers, cradling his broken arm, and then deliver them to the side of his face; he slumps over, out cold, gums bleeding. I toss the dusters towards the remaining men too; now I hear them shouting. The shake and inflection in their voices indicates panic.

Five left. Two armed. Terror beginning to strangle their minds and cloud their judgement. Time to end things.

I launch a smoke capsule at the ground in front of me; gas explodes forth and lays down cover; I step into the fog, unseen, and then carefully approach the outer edge of the cloud, allowing the men to barely glimpse my form; I hear one shout and know I've been spotted, and immediately back away, invisible again, before dropping prone to the ground. Shots puncture the gas as bullets whip past above me. The two with pistols are aiming torso-level. They both miss; then they pause to reload. I stand and step forward again, in one smooth motion parting my cloak and flinging two batarangs out; they both find their marks, cutting across the hands of the workers as they're scrambling to load a second clip. Both pistols are dropped, and the men let their fear get the better of them. They turn and run. I throw out my other arm; bolos fly forth and ensnare their ankles. they hit the ground head-first and hard.

Three left. I step out of the smoke completely, letting my cloak cover me again. They stare; I wait. I let the tension build.

Finally, one snaps and charges me; he throws a wide fist, too much wind up, too slow to connect; I sidestep and jab the wrist, breaking it easily, and then drive my other arm into his ribs; he folds around my fist, winded, and a follow up to his kidney has him wheezing and stumbling. I spin and bring my leg around; my greaves connect with his ear and he goes flying.

Two left. They rush me at the same time.

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Larry McCoy has driven nearly anything that’s been built with a wheel and two pedals. Never drove stick, but never needed to; never had a licence neither, but never needed one. With an auto all you needed was a foot for ‘go’, a foot for ‘stop’, and hand for ‘where’. Larry had all those, and he made do just swell. Tractors early on - ploughing fields and harvesting crops. Taxi for a while, tried buses too, although eventually he pined for the quiet solitude he’d enjoyed in the cab of heavy farming machinery; he’d long left corn behind him, but found long-haul lorry driving suited him just fine. There was something comforting about a long road in front of him and a radio that was just a fraction static, where the only things that existed were Larry, the cargo he was hauling, and the journey that took from where he came from and where he was going.

That’s why he hated nights and jobs like these; no mystique, no romance, no subtle beauty. Here, the ugliness was laid bare, and he had to dip his hands deep into the muck. After jobs like these, Larry didn’t feel clean for days. But Larry’s wife had cancer, and hospital bills don’t pay themselves. So he played the music loud and stayed in the cab. That was his condition; he’d drive, and he’d drive whatever they wanted, and he’d do it better and sometimes cheaper than most. But he stayed in the cab.

So when Larry saw The Batman, a creature he believed was just Gotham urban legend - fuck, to Larry, the Batman may as well have been the Jersey Devil - appear out of darkness and smog, having done some unseen, unspeakable horror to at least three men, more likely eight, and then proceed to effortlessly incapacitate three more, seemingly untouchable, ethereal, intangible...

Larry got out the cab and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

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The driver ran. I’d anticipated it; he didn’t have the look of a fighter. By the time he reached the guard booth at the entrance to the pier and pointed frantically down the way towards me, I’d already set the charges on the crates; as the last guard sprinted towards me, I melted back into the shadows of the docks, and triggered the explosives.

By the time the guard picked himself up off the floor, Fisk and Penguin’s budding enterprise was cinders, and I was gone; another story of the night.

The evening was yet young. There was much work to be done.

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

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- The Batman, 1.01
- The Batman, 1.02
- The Batman, 1.03
- The Batman, 1.04
- The Batman, 1.05

[Hillan]

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 DEATH OF...}

S U P E R M A N

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^{_{Clark Joseph Kent
Kal-El Of Krypton
Metropolis / North Pole}}

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

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^{"The only way to change the world is to quit thinking it’s a job for Superman. Real power lies in your own hands."}

Five years ago, crisis struck and a force of the earths' mightiest heroes came together, out of the shadows, the oceans and the sky to save humanity from cataclysm. That force was lead by a survivor of a dead race who grew up amongst the humans, Superman. Dubbed the greatest hero among them, Superman brought truth, peace and justice wherever his red cape touched. But tragedy struck, the kind even the greatest among us can't prevent.
Clark lost what mattered most to him. Crippled from the same battle, Clark had to face a world of grief in a way he had never done before. While the kryptonite was out of his body and his spine had healed, his spirit was still broken. He left the cape behind and retreated into solitude.
New dangers are on the horizon and the world will once more cry out for the last sovereign son of Krypton.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ):

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Ultimately, I love Superman and I've always wanted to put my own touch on him. I'm not aiming for a whacky reimagining of the character, but simply aiming to explore what the most overbearing human emotion - grief - would do to the strongest mortal in the universe. To not just loathe in self-pity, I want to explore how he, like all of us can overcome and thrive.

Superman may be dead, this is the story of how he regains hope and comes back to life.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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"Y'know, my dad always told me that I could achieve anything, as long as I put my heart into it and worked hard. The sky's the limit, he would say. I'm starting to think that maybe... He was wrong. I don't think the sky's where it stops. Not for any of us." The black haired man said, chewing lightly on a pencil, trying to think of a way to solve the riddle presented to him on the paper in his hand. He scratched the back of his head, pushing his glasses back up when he grabbed the pen from his mouth again.

"Crossword giving you problem, Smallville?" his brown-haired coworker mocked from the other side of the lunch room. Well, coworker, she was Lois Lane and she was technically his boss. Or at least higher up in the food chain than him. The way she had explained it to him on his first day here, two weeks ago was Lois was a dolphin, Perry White was a great blue whale, and Clark... Well, Clark was a guppy.

"Yeah, it's a real tough one today." Clark murmured, having just filled in 'Sky'.

"Try 'Ahab' That usually does it." Lois added, grabbing her lunch from the fridge, the salad box that said 'Olsen' on it. Clark shook his head. "I don't think Ahab was the 22nd President of the United States". Lois raised her eyebrow. "It's Grover, man."
"Cleaveland. Like the state. C-L-E-A-V-E-L-A-N-D" Lois spelled it for him and he couldn't help but to snicker a little about it. "That's not how you spe-" He was interrupted by Lois walking past him, back to her desk to eat her lunch. She was always working after all. "Good talk, miss Lane." Clark concluded, returning to his crossword.

A few minutes later, Jimmy Olsen, the up and coming hotshoot photographer for the paper walked into the room, looking for his lunch. It was gone. He let out a loud groan. Clark picked up sirens thanks to his extraordinary hearing, and if there was one thing to know about Mr.Kent, was that he tried to be where the sirens were.

He put down the crossword and turned to Jimmy. "Hey, Jimmy! I'm just about to do a coffee run for Mr.White, I'll grab you a sandwich from McLarens while I'm out. Meatball sub, right?" Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, extra marinara, thanks Clark!" Clark smiled, walking towards the exit, taking the stairs in favor of the elevator, the sirens moving past him now. Once he knew nobody could see him in the staircase, he ran towards the roof, instead of towards the lobby. Once he emerged onto the roof he took off his glasses and dress shirt revealing the world famous red S underneath.

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

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THE CAGE:
ISSUE 1.01: The Cage Part 1

[Byrd Man]

B L A C K P A N T H E R
B L A C K P A N T H E R

^{“Born alone, die alone, no crew to keep my crown or throne.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ T'Challa _________________________________________________________ Wakandan | King in Exile | Justice League (Formerly) _________________________________________________________ New York City | New York | United States of America C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - S U P P O R T I N G C H A R A C T E R S ◼ Gloria Chinwe, First Generation Nigerian Immigrant ◼ Chydie "Charlie" Chinwe, Second Generation Nigerian Immigrant ◼ Sgt. Kevin "Kasper" Cole, Homicide Detective ◼ Everett K. Ross, CIA Agent ◼ Shuri, Princess Regent of Wakanda ◼ Okoye, Captain of the Dora Milaje ◼ Reverend Doctor Michael Ibn al-hajj Achebe, Revolutionary ◼ Piranha Jones, NY Crime Lord ◼ Kilmonger, Mercenary ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ -

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ This version of Black Panther retains almost all of the lore of Wakanda and the origin of T'Challa. The only difference is this version of Black Panther is New York City based, in exile and living under an assumed named in Brooklyn after giving up the Black Panther mantle. But slowly he is pulled back into the costume to protect his neighborhood and eventually reclaim his throne. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ A R C # 1 GOT "Now I like to have nice things just like you, but I'm from Brooklyn, certain shit you just don't do." "Isiah Wolde" keeps a low profile as a building superintendent in Brooklyn's Little Mogadishu neighborhood. When one of the tenants in his building begins to worry about her missing teenage son, he investigates and discovers the boy is in over his head with a local gang and about to do something drastic. Isiah is forced to reclaim his past and show there's more to the quiet handyman than meets the eye. A R C # 2 C.R.E.A.M. "Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M., get the money Dollar dollar bill, y'all." T'Challa, back in Black Panther form, begins to follow the trail of money from the last outing and discovers rampant crime and corruption throughout Little Mogadishu, a trail that leads back to Wakanda. A R C #3 A NATION OF MILLIONS "And for real it's the deal and the actual fact, takes a nation of millions to hold me back." Sgt. Kevin "Kasper" Cole crosses paths with the Black Panther when he begins to investigate a police involved shooting that took place in Little Mogadishu. The two join forces to track down the mysterious crime lord Black Jack.

---

[webboysurf]

V I G I L A N T E
V I G I L A N T E

^{“You're right... you've made me nothing more than a damn vigilante.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Adrian Chase _________________________________________________________ Caucasian | District Attorney | Independent _________________________________________________________ Bludhaven | New Jersey | United States of America C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ The Eraser: A criminal "cleaner" who has showed up in Bludhaven, destroying evidence at murder scenes around the city. Catman: An elusive criminal thief terrorizing Bludhaven in the dumbest, most obvious costume possible. Hammerhead: With uncertainty rising about the Scarapelli crime family, this new crime lord representing the Maggia has moved in. It's unclear what the Maggia want with Bludhaven... but they're meeting some significant pushback from another illusive crime lord known as the "Blockbuster." The Enforcers: A band of criminal mercenaries under the employ of the Scarapelli crime family. Rumor is, a few of them have meta abilities. Roland Desmond: A high-ranking member of the Scarapelli crime family, he has recently flipped on his former employer and ratted out parts of the operation to the FBI. Rumor is he's connected to Hammerhead's in-town rival, the Blockbuster. Wildcat: A local vigilante, and one that Adrian is more or less fond of. Secretly boxer Ted Grant, who is intending to challenge Carlos LaMuerto in a prime time international event at Madison Square Garden. Homeless Avenger: A violent vigilante targeting criminals who target the homeless population of Bludhaven. Agent Catalina Flores: FBI agent working at the Bludhaven office, attempting to help Adrian Chase and the DA's office to dismantle the Scarapelli crime family. Alan Welles: Assistant District Attorney who works alongside Adrian, and is one of the primary trial lawyers for District Attorney's office. Is helping put together the Scarapelli case as much as possible. - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ -

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ The goal of playing Vigilante is to explore the streets of crime in the DC universe from a character's year zero perspective. Adrian Chase is a fascinating character in the comics, and the idea of a district attorney turning into a crime fighter when the system fails is just a fascinating angle to take. I have a love for street level vigilantes, and who better than the Vigilante? One who keeps giving himself permission to break the law in more drastic ways until he eventually becomes the kind of killer he wanted to put behind bars? I think there's also room to rework some more minor DC villains into threatening adversaries for a low level hero. Villains such as "The Eraser" are perfect adversaries for a lawyer trying to put some of the most dangerous criminals behind bars. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ Adrian Chase is a man who has always rejected the idea of living it easy: he graduated West Point with a Law and Legal Studies degree, served in the army, returned to attend Columbia's Law School, and quickly found himself with a job across the Hudson in the Bludhaven DA's office. He never took the easy route of corporate law that his father always nagged him about, and was one of the few lawyers in the DA's office that wasn't hit with a scandal following the recent death of District Attorney herself. When half the DA's office was found to be in the pocket of the Scarapelli crime family, Adrian Chase takes over for the case and manages to formally file charges against Anthony Scarapelli. Adrian's family is killed, and all the evidence on the Scarapelli's goes up in smoke. Heartbroken and wounded, a desperate Adrian Chase is willing to do anything to make sure justice is served. Unfortunately for him, the system was rigged from the start. Before long, Adrian Chase is going to realize the only way to get true justice in this city is to take it into your own hands... or at the barrel of a gun. A R C # 1 TAKE ME OUT "It was just another Thursday... until it wasn't." Adrian Chase is the acting District Attorney, and lives the suburban nightmare that everyone dreams of. Unfortunately, he's made a powerful enemy of Anthony Scarapelli. Adrian Chase is closing the noose around the criminal's neck, but the mob boss believes in reciprocal justice. An eye for an eye. Or a family for a family. A R C # 2 PSYCHO KILLER "I can't just... I mean, YOU can't just go around killing people." Adrian Chase puts the vigilante community on trial when the Homeless Avenger is finally captured by the BPD. As the District Attorney begins putting together a case against him while simultaneously working on the Scarapelli case, Bludhaven begins to fall apart as a gang war begins brewing in the background. The District Attorney begins adopting a similar disguise as the Homeless Avenger as he goes out at night probing for clues as to what is happening to the evidence of the Scarapelli case. A R C # 3 WAR PIGS "No... Anthony Scarapelli doesn't get to walk away. He started this war. I'm ending it." Adrian will question what lengths he is willing to go to as a... no, THE Vigilante. A full on gang war will begin to envelop the streets of Bludhaven, and Adrian Chase will be pushed to his absolute limits as he does everything he can to bring justice to his city... before the law cracks down on him first.

---

Sample Post

"You ever wish we just took a job in like, Chicago?"

Adrian Chase knocked back the remainder of his glass, setting it on the bar and tapping its rim to signal the bartender. He couldn't even remember what the name of this place was, but it was one of the few open between the office and his place. He had switched out his blazer for a leather jacket he always kept in his office, hitching a ride with his fellow attorney Alan Welles as they left the office. Adrian's partner in crime hadn't bothered to bring a change of clothes, opting to ditch the blazer in his car and remove his tie. Even with the slight change in appearance, they stood out from the rest. Adrian saw the lingering eyes of a small group of teenagers near the back. He gave them a small smile and a nod as he grabbed the hem of his leather jacket, readjusting it just right to flash the piece holstered to his belt. The teenagers stopped looking real quick.

"Chicago isn't any better than here, Chase. You've seen the crime statistics... it's worse than out here." The bartender arrived, picking up the bottle of bourbon and pouring into Adrian's glass.

"But there aren't any vigilantes in Chicago. Not any big ones." The bartender began to pull the bottle away, but Adrian shook his head. The bartender shrugged and made it a double.

Alan Welles rolled his eyes in response as he took another sip of his beer. "There aren't any big vigilantes in Bludhaven, either. What, every now and then we might get one of the bats, or maybe some freak with a gun and a cool name swing through town for a week or a month. Someone who got lost on their way out of Gotham or Manhattan. But other than that-"

"We've got the Wildcat. Some asshat in a fursuit punching people's lights out and dropping them on my doorstep. Twice, Alan. For fuck's sake, Drew didn't sleep for a week after she answered the door for the second guy." Adrian lifted his glass to take a sip, revelling in the burning sensation.

Alan sighed, shaking his head as he stared at his nearly empty beer. "How's Doris? You've been at the office a lot more since they fished Powell out of the river."

Adrian took another sip and exhaled a long breath. He looked at Alan and shook his head. "You know Doris, she's nagging away that I'm not spending enough time with the kids, same old shit."

Alan chuckled to himself as he slid the beer away. "Hey, at least you got something steady and stable. I'd love to get nagged at every night." After a pause, Alan looked at his watch and groaned. "Guess I'll be taking a nap before I head into the office. Mind if I crash on your couch?"

Adrian chuckled, downing the rest of his drink. "Sure, Al. But you better take the one in the basement. I've got the one in the living room."

The two men chuckled as they settled up with the bartender, making their way out the front of the bar. They circled around towards the parking lot on the side, heading straight for Alan's little Fiat. Of course, even with a decent amount of liquor in him, Adrian clocked the two men who exited the bar behind them. They were moving a little bit faster than Adrian was, clearly trying to catch up. It was only when Adrian heard the distinct sound of metal scraping just barely against metal that he recognized a sound he was familiar with in his youth. Years of camping made him familiar with the sound of unsheathing a folding knife. They were too far from the car, and the unseen assailants were getting too close.

Adrian slowed his pace to ensure Alan got a bit of a lead on him, and slowly turned around. Two men, no masks. The one on the right was holding the knife, and lifted it up towards Adrian’s face as he kept advancing. “No sudden moves, pal. Give me your wallet, and nobody gets hurt.”

There. A threat of bodily harm. Nice assault charge. Close proximity with the knife, no chance to retreat. They’re gonna make me do this.

Adrian took a half step back, planting his foot. As the assailant went to take another step forward, Adrian took the opportunity to reach up and grab the wrist of the hand holding the knife. With a swift kick to knee, the assailant was quickly knocked off balance and fell forward. Adrian spun around and used his other hand to guide the assailant forward onto his knees, moving his hand from the wrist to the knife to disarm the man. The other potential assailant began moving forward, and Adrian sighed. He tossed the knife aside, and quickly scooped up a handful of gravel resting in one of this parking lot’s many pot holes. Adrian was able to get on his feet and step to the side as the second assailant closed in. A quick toss of loose gravel into the assailant’s face was enough to throw him off. It bought Adrian enough time to take a few steps back and unholster his Sig, flicking the safety off as he alternated which assailant he pointed the gun at. Within a moment, assailant two dropped the knife and held his hands into the air. The first assailant remained sprawled on the ground, hands raised slightly to show compliance.

Alan was already on the phone with the local precinct. Adrian lowered the weapon, but kept the safety off. It took the office about 90 seconds to come screeching to a halt on the street nearby. Bludhaven’s finest only seemed to work fast when it was the DA or the Mayor calling. Two officers stepped out, and immediately moved in to apprehend the assailants.. While cuffing them, Adrian looked towards Alan. ”These guys look familiar to you?”

Alan took a closer look at the men, “Vaguely… you telling me these are Scarapelli’s guys.”

Adrian opened up Alan’s trunk, and brushed aside a blanket to reveal his briefcase. He quickly flicked it open, and pulled out a small stack of photos. He rifled through them for a moment under a nearby streetlight, and finally pulled one out for Alan to inspect. ”I never forget a face. And these two have been around a lot of crime scenes connected to our dear friend Tony.”

Alan nodded in relief for a moment, before he narrowed his brow and looked back at Adrian. “Wait… so does that mean…”

Adrian nodded, tossing the photos back into his briefcase and clicking it shut. ”Scarapelli’s getting desperate. We’ve got him on the ropes.”

[Lord Wraith]

D E A T H S T R O K E
D E A T H S T R O K E

^{“Consider it, terminated.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Lieutenant Colonel Slade Joseph Wilson _________________________________________________________ Caucasian | A.R.G.U.S. Spec-Ops | Team 7 _________________________________________________________ Classified | Classified | United States of America _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ AL-SADR, HASSAN: Formerly a military dictator that ruled over Qurac under the alias of Sulieman. Al-Sadr was overthrown by General Marlo in 2009, ending his reign and bringing about the start of democracy in Qurac. A.R.G.U.S.: The Advanced Research Group United Support, A.R.G.U.S. is the governing body that overseas Team 7 and its operations. BEATRIZ, ZAZZALA: Queen Zazzala Beatriz II is the reigning monarch of Bialya with suspected ties to the group known only as H.I.V.E. BIALYA: Bialya is a country located in the Middle East, with the nation of Saudi Arabia lining its eastern and southern borders. To the west is the Gulf nation of Quarc. To the North, sits Iraq and Kuwait. It is a monarchy ruled by the Queen of Bialya. CRAWFORD, EVELYN: Codenamed Starling, Evelyn is a master marksman and member of Team 7. DANIELS, ANGELICA: A former on and off again flame of Slade's and member of Team 7. Angelica is an expert in melee combat. DEFARGE, NATHANIEL: The second husband to Paris Wilson, Nathaniel was an abusive alcoholic with a gambling addiction. Falling into a life of crime to pay his debt, Nathaniel soon accumulated more debt from one botched job after enough, soon having a price on his head from nearly every mob boss along the Eastern coast. In desperation, Nathaniel eventually tried to sell both Wade and Slade before attempting to use his wife as leverage in order to settle his debts. DEFARGE, PARIS neé WOLFMAN: Formerly Paris Wilson, the late mother of both Slade and Wade, died from a terminal illness around the time that Slade turned sixteen. A kind woman, Paris had a string of bad luck that ended up pairing her with her high school ex-boyfriend in the wake of her divorce from Charles. A miserable man, their relationship would end after Paris discovered Nathaniel sold their son, Wade, to settle his ever-growing debts and intended to do the same to her. He would have succeeded if not for the intervention of her illness taking what little life she had left. DEFARGE, WADE: Slade's half brother, a member of the U.S. Marine Corps. Previously had a relationship with Adeline Kane. Wade's own father, Nathaniel, was the first husband to Slade's mother, Paris. When Nathaniel found himself drowning in debt to the wrong people, he managed to sell Wade to the right people. FAIRCHILD, ALEX: A former member of a previous iteration of Team 7, Alex has a strained relationship with A.R.G.U.S. but due to his abilities is kept under a close watch. He acts in a consulting role due to his expertise in metahumans and other superhumans. FAIRCHILD, CAITLIN: The daughter of Alex Fairchild, Caitlin is the youngest member of Team 7. Possessing abilities that grant her superhuman strength and durability, she's by far one of the toughest members of the Team. ISHERWOOD, DAVID AKA IKON: Former mercenary and black-market weapons specialist, Dr. David Isherwood, now works alongside Team 7 using his own Gravity Sheath to fight on a near superhuman level. H.I.V.E.: A mysterious organization that is proving to be a growing thorn in A.R.G.U.S.'s side. Team 7 has been tasked with intervening in H.I.V.E.'s operations and shutting them down where possible. KANE-WILSON, ADELINE [49]: Team 7's commanding officer and Slade's ex-wife with whom he holds a strained relationship. Mother to Grant and Joseph. LANCE, KURT: A metahuman with the ability to amplify the abilities of others. MARLO, HURRAMBI: President Marlo is the second elected president of Qurac and its current official. MIRAKURU: The name given to the Super Soldier Serum derivative that was injected into Slade. Allegedly destroyed following the experiment's perceived 'failure'. PEABODY, ALEXANDER: The estranged son of Wintergreen. Alex supplies weapons and gear for Team 7. QURAC: Situated along the Persian Gulf, the nation of Qurac runs along the eastern edge of the Arabian Peninsula from Oman and the Rub' al Khali on the south, Bialya and Saudi Arabia on the west, and Iraq and Kuwait to the north. The Qurac borders with Bialya are a persistent source of conflict. The country is considered to be an outlaw nation by most countries in the United Nations due to its strong anti-U.S. policy. However, in recent years, the country has progressed towards a most western attitude, starting with its adoption of democracy in 2009. ROSCOE: Retired K-9 Unit that served alongside Slade overseas. Has a particular fondness for Rose. TEAM 7: Team 7 or Task Force 7 is the seventh iteration of an A.R.G.U.S. International Operations' military spec-ops unit. A special intervention and response team dedicated to metahuman and superhuman incidents, the team is handpicked for their missions and includes among its ranks the asset known as Slade Wilson. ► Amanda Waller - Director of A.R.G.U.S. ► Adeline Kane - Team 7's Commanding Officer ► Alex Peabody - Weapon Supplier ► Alex Fairchild - Metahuman Consultant ► Slade Wilson - Master Combatant ► William Wintergreen - Strategist Specialist ► Evelyn Crawford - Marksman ► Angelica Daniels - Melee Specialist ► David Isherwood - Metahuman ► Caitlin Fairchild - Metahuman ► Kurt Lance - Metahuman WALLER, AMANDA: Nothing happens at A.R.G.U.S. without Amanda 'The Wall' Waller knowing about it. WINTERGREEN, WILLIAM RANDOLPH: Slade's closest and longest friend. The Alfred to his Batman so to speak. WILSON, CHARLES HENRY: Charles Wilson is Slade's biological father. A career-driven man, his son and wife never ranked high in his priorities which resulted in a distant relationship between both. This only seemed to further increase when Paris began to show signs of the illness that eventually took her life. Their divorce was short, uncontested and happened when Slade was far too young to reconcile the events. A senior agent in the CIA, Charles is well aware of his son's career. WILSON, GRANT [21]: Slade's eldest son. Currently enrolled in the U.S. Military seeking to follow after his father but unaware of his father's missions with Team 7 or A.R.G.U.S. WILSON, JOSEPH 'JOEY' [17]: Slade's youngest son and middle child. Joseph is a budding metahuman, displaying signs of abilities that with training could make him an asset in the right hands. WILSON, SLADE [46]: WILSON-WORTH, ROSE [14]: Slade's illegitimate daughter and youngest. WORTH, LILLIAN 'SWEET-LILI': A courtesan from Cambodia and its self-proclaimed 'Queenpin', Slade and Lillian engaged in a tryst which lead to the conception and subsequent birth of Rose Wilson. T I M E L I N E ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ | 1973 - Adeline is born | 1976 - Slade is born | 1980 - Charles and Paris divorce | 1982 - Paris marries Nathaniel DeFarge | 1992 - Nathaniel sells Wade and attempts the same 1992 to Paris who passes away from illness 1992 - Slade enlists in the army | 1995 - Slade and Wintergreen meet | 1999 - Slade and Adeline marry | 2001 - Grant is born | 2003 - Slade achieves the rank of Lt. Col. 2005 - Joseph is born | 2005 - Slade is injected with Mirakuru 2005 - Slade is put in an induced coma | 2006 - Slade is recruited to A.R.G.U.S. | 2007 - Slade's first A.R.G.U.S. mission takes 2007 - him to Cambodia | 2008 - Rose is born | 2013 - Slade and Adeline divorce | 2022 - Team 7 is sent to Bialya to search for 2022 - leads about H.I.V.E. | - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Issue #01: A H.I.V.E. Mind #1.01 - What's the Buzz? #1.02 - That Stings A Little #1.03 - A Sticky Situation #1.04 - Beaten Black and Yellow #1.05 - Eye of the Swarm ◼ Issue #02: Honey-Despot #2.01 - TBD ◼ Issue #03: Queen Takes Pawn #3.01 - TBD ◼ Issue #04: Buzzkill #4.01 - TBD ◼ Issue #05: Burn the Nest #5.01 - TBD -

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ A career soldier, Slade Wilson forged an identity for himself at the age of sixteen and left behind his alcoholic step-father and idiot half-brother to join the U.S. Army. Find success in everything thrown at him, Slade rose through the ranks quickly and gathered the attention of the right people. Slade was asked to volunteer for a secret experiment. Signing up under the false pretense that the experiment would make him immune to the effects of the enemy's truth serum. It was only later that Slade discovered the operation was instead seeking not only to replicate, but also improve upon the Super Soldier Serum as performed by Dr. Abraham Erskine during the Second World War. As superhumans have become more and more common, the world is finding itself in a superhuman arms race. In an effort to tip that race in the favour of the United States of America, Slade Wilson, the perfect soldier, volunteered for a cutting-edge, experimental procedure that would genetically engineer him to surpass all human limits. The experiment was not without side effects though and Slade's body reacted violently to the procedure. Ultimately it left him in a coma for several months leading to the experiment being deemed a failure. However, upon waking up, Slade discovered the procedure had in fact worked. His strength, speed, senses, stamina, intellect and reflexes were enhanced beyond that of any ordinary man, putting him on far more even footing with the superhumans emerging across the globe. Perhaps calling this sheet 'Deathstroke' is a bit misleading, we're not there yet. This is a slightly younger Slade Wilson than we're used to seeing. He's not yet the master assassin or jaded mercenary of the comics. In a world filled with reactive heroes that only appear once the city is already under siege, Slade Wilson works with A.R.G.U.S. as a leading member of a special operations unit known only as Team 7. In an effort to get the jump on superhumans abusing their abilities, this covert spec-ops team seeks to eliminate threats before they happen. This is the story of what happens when you give that kind of power not to a good man, but to a good soldier. 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 ) 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 ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ I think Slade Wilson has the potential to be written as a both tragic and compelling figure. Too often the comics either use him as another hammy villain or worse, write him double dipped in angst and wrapped in edge. I see Slade as being almost a foil between Captain America and Batman, there are a lot of similarities to both in his origin and his family dynamics. But where Batman ultimately unites allies, Slade tends to drive them away and where Cap stands tall in the face of adversity, Deathstroke sells his skills to the highest bidder. I want to write the story of how someone who starts off as this ideal soldier becomes the supervillain capable of going toe to toe with the Justice League. To that end, I've placed Slade on Team 7, an A.R.G.U.S special operations team dedicated to hunting down and stopping superhuman threats before they happen. I've put the pieces in place so that Slade will ultimately specialize in taking down superhumans. All that's left is to write how he gets to the point where not only does he sell his skills, but actively enjoys being the villain. I S S U E # 0 1 A H.I.V.E. MIND Team 7 is dispatched to the Middle Eastern nation of Qurac in order to infiltrate Bialya. Hostilities are at an all-time high between the two nations, with their cold war bordering on open warfare. A.R.G.U.S. believes that H.I.V.E. has infiltrated the Bialyian Monarchy and is pulling the strings from within, biding their time before releasing a superhuman weapon against Qurac. The clock is ticking, is the team up to the task? Characters Involved: Team 7 Desired # of Players: N/A I S S U E # 0 2 HONEY-DESPOT Caught in the clutches of the Queen Beatriz of Bialya, the Team must find a way to prevent a war between Qurac and Bialya while uncovering the truth about Beatriz' connections to H.I.V.E. Characters Involved: TBD Desired # of Players: N/A I S S U E # 0 3 QUEEN TAKES PAWN Characters Involved: Rose Wilson Desired # of Players: N/A I S S U E # 0 4 BUZZKILL Characters Involved: TBD Desired # of Players: N/A I S S U E # 0 5 BURN THE NEST Characters Involved: TBD Desired # of Players: N/A

---

[Sep]

Thor Freyjason

^{"I have felled many a beast, what is one more to the tally?"}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Thor Odinson Freyjason _________________________________________________________ Asgardian | God of Thunder _________________________________________________________ Alaska | United States of America | Earth C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ Supporting Characters - Supporting Characters ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Odin Borson: Thors father, All-Father, and King of Asgard. Supposed creator of the nine realms. Freyja Freyrdottir: The woman that truly raised Thor, and shaped his morals and ideals. I'll add to this list as they become relevant. - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Here comes the Thunder ◼ Walk of the Dead ◼ Old Friends -

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ Thor is bullheaded, he's stubborn. Yet he's a hero. He can be humble when the time needs him to be, he's compassionate and caring. Raised alongside his adoptive brother Loki Laufeyson by his father Odin Borson and adoptive mother Freyja Freyrdottir. Thor was pushed and tested at every hurdle. The first apparent heir to the union between the Aesir and the Vanir. Thor would one day become King, and Odin made sure that Thor was going to be ready. At an early age, Thor struggled with the brutal tactics of his father. Thor was no coward, nor was he afraid of battle, killing, or death. Thor however had a strong sense of honor and compassion instilled into him by Freyja. The tactics Odin utilized to bring 'peace' held much more interest to the cunning Loki than to Thor. The Young God truly didn't feel at home until the war between realms resulted in him being sent to Midgard to act as one of its protectors during the middle ages. Thor revealed in the battle, but more importantly, he became absorbed in the way that the mortals lived and breathed. Never in his long life had he felt so alive. As if he was finally in the right place and right time. As outside threats to Midgard decreased, division among the Gods threatened to tear Midgard asunder. Odin having eight other realms to worry himself over decided to retreat from Midgard, much to Thor's disappointment. Gaining his power through Mjolnir and the crown prince was only the next logical step. All was well. Until Odin ordered the execution of Jotuns that had rebelled against his rule, Jotuns that had already been defeated. In an act of defiance unheard of in all his life, Thor slammed Mjolnir into the ground in a fit of rage incapacitating everyone nearby, allowing the Jotuns to go free. Before anyone awoke Thor was gone. He traveled for centuries among the eight realms. Righting wrongs, fighting for those who needed it. Glory and praises were sung to him in a variety of tongues from many places as he skulked around passageways he and Loki had explored as children. He gathered like-minded individuals in the form of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. They were unbeatable. Until they finally drew Odin's wrath. As Odin himself came to bring his meddlesome son home, he quickly incapacitated Thor's allies before stripping him of Mjolnir and casting it away. The argument between the All-Father and All-Prince thundered throughout the heavens and through the realms of mortals. In the battle of wits, Thor foreswore his birthright. Odin stripped him of his name and cast him out, without Mjolnir, to Midgard. Forbidden to ever return, under penalty of death. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ This is a very different interpretation of my two attempts at Thor. This is a Thor that is secure in who he is as a hero, but he is very unsure on where his place is in all of this. He is without Mjolnir, but he still has some power available to him. My plan is for him to find his place in Asgard and how that relates to Midgard and the other realms. This Thor is essentially the opposite of how I usually play it. Usually, he knows his place, but not really who he is. This Thor knows who he is, but not where his place is or how to take his place in this cosmic tale of Gods and Magic. As always there's going to be a hidden threat that only our Hero knows about, who appears to have been around longer than you would think. S A M P L E P O S T S A M P L E P O S T ________________________________________________________________________________________ Thunder rolled over the tundra of Alaska. The sky above was full of dark rolling clouds that stretched far beyond the horizon. Thick, heavy snowdrops danced in the howling wind. No beast dared to brave the harsh conditions. None but a man, nay. A God. Dressed in naught but a torn red cape, blue shirt, black trousers, and a pair of leather boots tramped through the snow. His skin as clean and fresh as it would be had he been walking on a pleasant summer's eve. Thor had experienced worse winters. Here on Midgard when the Jotuns opened the casket of ancient winters, and any day spent on Jotunheim. The axe weighed heavy on his back, yet he didn't let it deter him. Each footfall crunched and cracked through the snow and the ice. His trail was quickly covered up by the fresh snow, if anyone wanted to follow him they wouldn't be able to use traditional means. Not that anyone who was tracking the wayward God would use traditional, or even mortal, means. He couldn't help but cast a wayward glance skyward. It was times like these he wished that he had spent more time on Lokis tricks, Heimdall was a good friend but honour bound to his duty to a fault, there was no way he could get away with this without it being reported back to his Odin. Lowering his gaze back down he saw his destination. A lone mountain, Thor could see the flickering lights from the cave already. There was some kind of saying about birds of a feather flocking together. He had heard it several times on Midgard, this seemed like one of those times. Still, without Mjolnir, he had no option. Jarnbjorn was a mighty weapon, but it wasn't enough. He could feel the familiar weight in his hand, raising it up he opened his fist revealing a sliver of Uru. The only keepsake that he had managed to sneak past Odins watchful gaze on their last meeting. Thor only hoped it would be enough.

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[Mao Mao]

C A P T A I N A M E R I C A
C A P T A I N A M E R I C A

^{"All of you are here to ensure that liberty has a chance and I am damn proud to be standing by your side."
— Steven Rogers, March 1945}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Steven Grant Rogers (July 4, 1922 – April 18, 1945) _________________________________________________________ Caucasian | US Army | The Howling Commandos _________________________________________________________ New York City | New York | United States of America C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - S U P P O R T I N G C H A R A C T E R S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Deceased Johann Shmidt Chester Phillips Margaret Carter Aleksey Lebedev Timothy Dugan Gabriel Jones Jim Morita Robert Ralston Present Maria Hill Sharon Carter Samuel Wilson John Walker Brock Rumlow William Burnside Helmut Zemo Arnim Zola - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ -

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ "We have made instruments of God, gentlemen." Abraham Erskine allegedly spoke those words after the successful injection of the Super Soldier Serum and usage of the Vita-Ray Chamber upon a scrawny Steven Rogers. Unfortunately, his murder occurred shortly after the transformation, taking the serum's formula with him. Initially, the US Army cautioned against putting Rogers on the front lines at the risk of losing the formula entirely. However, while attempting to retrieve the serum from blood samples, he was assigned the role of "Captain America" to promote war bonds across allied territories. At one bond rally in England, Rogers uncovered and exposed a secret Hydra lair at the heart of London. His heroics and exploits garnered the support of civilians and some of the Allied powers calling for his immediate deployment. Under pressure, Steven Rogers was assigned to the United States Fifth Army to help with efforts in the Italian campaign. But he went AWOL upon learning that his friend, James "Bucky" Barnes, was captured along with his unit. They were subjected to forced labor and torture at a Hydra facility sponsored by Nazi Germany before their rescue. Captain America became a war hero and was designated an elite combat unit known as The Howling Commandos. It comprised several soldiers for the liberated unit, including Bucky Barnes, who was seen as the right-hand man. The unit conducted raids upon Hydra facilities and constantly joined forces with resistance movements across Western and Eastern Europe. By the summer of 1944, The Howling Commandos recruited several more combatants, including Agent 13 (formally known as Margaret Carter, a French resistance fighter) and the first Red Guardian, Aleksey Lebedev. Then, in spring 1945, the Strategic Scientific Reserve learned that Hydra relocated its headquarters to Nazi-occupied Norway. The Howling Commandos traveled there with the intent of capturing the remaining leadership, including Johann Shmidt (or known as The Red Skull). But then, Bucky was killed in action while pursuing Shmidt. Enraged and in mourning, Rogers followed Shmidt to a bomber plane before shortly crashing into the Norwegian Sea. Reports of Captain America's heroic sacrifice were held until the war's end to prevent a loss of morale among the Allied troops. Despite a month-long search of the Norwegian Sea, Steven Rogers' body was never found. And that remained so until now... P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ I have always liked stories that heavily emphasize how Steven Rogers is handling the modern world, like the wonder of using a computer for the first time. Or how vehicles have changed so much in a century. Or coping with the fact that everyone he has known is most likely dead. So I want to be able to tell that story with a few surprises here and there. Specifically, I want to explore his relationship with SHIELD and its director. Have him travel around the world to learn more about this new world and his friends' fates. And even make new ones along the way. I don't want to necessarily have him wake up and pick up that iconic shield to kick ass in the name of freedom. Not right away. Rogers needs to get his bearings together—needs to come to terms with what has happened to him and the world—before even thinking about Captain America.

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SAMPLE POST

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CAPTAIN AMERICA

_{SPRING 1945}

THE AMERICAN AND THE RUSSIAN

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_{COLOGNE, GREATER GERMAN REICH}

Cologne, or whatever remained of the city, used to house nearly a million people before the war. However, it had essentially become a ghost town after the bombing raids either killed or forced its residents to flee elsewhere. German forces were pinned down near the Hohenzollern Bridge, ready for their possible last stand against the 104th Infantry and the 3rd Armored Division of the United States. Yet, even know they were in disarray and faced supply shortages, their spirits remained strong-willed—out of denial or fear was the foremost question on Steven Rogers' mind. After all, he understood what it was like to be driven by pure determination.

Steven Rogers, known as Captain America to many friends and foes alike, overlooked the ruined city to better understand the impending battle. He instantly noticed the tall spires of the Cologne Cathedral still standing while its surroundings were a war zone. It was quite an unforgettable sight to witness while smelling the smoking ruins from afar. Steven would've kept staring if it wasn't for his unit nearly finished with the preparations to cross the Rhine river by Hohenzollern Bridge. It still was one of the remaining bridges standing, but that could've easily changed with the upcoming assault. So, the Howling Commandos detached themselves from the VII Corps of the US Army and set up a temporary camp on the outskirts of town.

Aleksey Lebedev approached Steven with a mug of instant coffee freshly made by Margaret Carter. He was in his Red Guardian uniform, and the shield was strapped to his back, ready for use. It was admittedly still awkward to see that near-identical resemblance between both heroes. But after getting to know each other, both men came to appreciate the similarities and (some of) their differences. They were just representing their countries at the end of the day. Aleksey placed Steven's mug down beside him and then headed for the tree stump to sit on. The unnerving silence made it pretty oblivious that he didn't know how to initiate a conversation. But then, the words came out with a thick Russian accent. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, somewhat." Steven answered while still examining the ruined city, avoiding the mug of coffee on his side. "Been spending the last five minutes formatting a sound strategy for crossing that bridge."

"And?"

"A ton of Germans are still setting up defenses around the bridge—from both sides. So getting around them might be tricky but feasible if done correctly." Steven, still in deep thought, turned to look at Aleksey. "The best bet will be going out at night and using the darkness to our advantage."

"A sound plan." Aleksey nodded in agreement but felt somewhat unsatisfied. Now, he was the one looking out at the ruined city. "I only hope we get to shoot Nazis."

Steven was disappointed with the remark and appeared over Aleksey with arms crossed. "You know, this war will eventually end—along with the killing. I hope you're ready for that world."

"There will always be Nazi scum to kill." Aleksey responded without emotion in his voice, but his face was poorly concealing anger and shame. "You know that to be the truth, Captain."

Steven remained silent so as to not give him the satisfaction of being right. Then, fortunately, James Barnes interrupted both men to notify them that the American divisions were ready to advance to Cologne earlier than expected. Steven was clearly irritated at the sudden news, but the original plan wasn't jeopardized. But before he had the chance to follow James, Aleksey unexpectedly reached out to him in a rare moment of vulnerability.

"I don't like to kill, but that's what my orders are. I hope you understand." Aleksey didn't even wait for a reply before excusing himself out of embarrassment. All by his lonely self, Steven stared at the ruined city once more and whispered to himself—away from the prying ears of fellow squadmates and command—giving himself a moment of opportunity to be vulnerable in a long time too.

"Yeah... I do."

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[Natty]

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

A Q U A M A N

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^{_{J A C K S O N H Y D E ♦ S T U D E N T ♦ A M N E S T Y B A Y ♦ A T L A N T I A N}}

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

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^{"Now in this island of Atlantis there existed a confederation of kings, of great and marvelous power." _{~ Plato}}

Born the son of an Atlantean queen and a human lighthouse keeper, Arthur Curry grew to become the bridge between his two peoples. He rose to take his role as the king of Atlantis and became the hero known as Aquaman when the surface world needed him most. For a time, there was peace between the surface world and those from the depths, but soon Arthur's rule as king began to crumble as tensions raised. As such, the hero known as Aquaman seemingly disappeared.

Years later, teenager Jackson Hyde finds himself in the quaint coastal town of Amnesty Bay, following the discovery of newfound abilities and the murder of his family. Here he meets the town's new lighthouse keeper, Arthur, who now lives a peaceful life of self-imposed exile with his wife Mera and daughter Andy.

As Jackson seeks answers, Arthur finds himself having to face his past.

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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I think Aquaman is neat. Atlantis and its lore however has always been an area I've been too intimidated by to fully explore. As such, I felt introducing this world through the lens of someone like Jackson felt like the perfect way to do it for me. They're a character I've really come to love in recent years, with his relationships with both the "Aquaman family", and his own father, Black Manta, being something I particularly enjoy. So I'm hoping to have some fun in this little corner of the world.

With Jackson, I want to tell a journey of self-discovery and actualization, as he strives to find out more about his family and his heritage and how this will shape him.

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

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Arthur Curry ► The mysterious lighthouse keeper of Amnesty Bay, Arthur lies in self-imposed exile from his former home, Atlantis, with his wife Mera and daughter Andy.
Mera ► The crown princess of the underwater kingdom of Xebel and the former Queen of Atlantis.
Andriana "Andy" Curry ► The 3 year old daughter of Arthur and Mera.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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The fishing vessel lurched violently as the world’s deadliest crustacean charged across the deck, giving Jackson Hyde a mere few seconds to leap to the side as a crimson claw swung towards him. Recovering from his fall and into a roll, he picked himself up just in time to take a step backward, narrowly avoiding yet another swing, as the creature attempted to backhand him.

It was now that he could finally get a good look at the ship’s attacker. 7’5 tall and built like a tank with a hulking red exoskeleton encapsulating it’s body. One of it’s arms, the one Jackson had been attempting to dodge, ended in what seemed to be a humungous pincer. Disproportionately large in contrast to the rest of the creature’s body, the sight of it’s jagged edges made Jackson’s heart skip a beat.. That wasn’t what scared Jackson the most though. Set within a pair of deep circular sockets in the exoskeleton, were a set of eyes, that whilst bloodshot and filled with rage, were deeply human.

For a moment Jackson found himself freezing up. Fighting against Atlantean soldiers was one thing but he hadn’t expected anything like whatever this sea creature was. There was no way he was ready for this thing. But as his eyes moved across the deck and to the cowering group of fishermen back up against the stern, he solemnly knew that he had no choice.

So he did what he always did when he was nervous. Make a poor joke.

“Okay Lobster Man, I’m scheduled to fight a starfish at 3 so you better make this snappy.”

The creature did not look amused, clenching its pincer sharply.

“Snappy. Get it? Because you’re a lob-”

Before he could finish the behemoth had charged forward, seemingly now enraged.

“I am not lobster!” It roared, its voice almost alien. “I am King Crab!”

The aforementioned King Crab brought their pincer wildly in an attack, yet once again Jackson was able to simply dodge to the side. That was when he realized; this King Crab may be strong, but they certainly weren’t fast. And he could use that.

Now more confident in his smile, he reached behind his shoulders to the holsters on his back, drawing his waterbearers. Aiming them towards the starboard side, Jackson concentrated. At once, the tattoos that trailed up along his arms quickly began to glow a brilliant blue, as two trails of water slithered up through the air and onto the ship. They connected with the hilt of his weapon, as the giant crab made another swing. This time Jackson ducked downwards, avoiding the swing with ease, before launching himself upwards with a swing of his own. As his arms arched around, the watery tendrils within his waterbearers shifted shape until they resembled that of a pair of medieval maces.

King Crab staggered backward as the maces collided with his head in a splash of water. Jackson wasn’t done there though. Upon landing back onto the deck, he made a move once more, darting forward.

His bearers, now taking the form of a pair of scimitars, struck the beast from the left. In response, another swing from King Crab, and in turn, another dodge. Jackson quickly moved around his body and once he was far enough around he kicked out with all his might.

The crab toppled forwards and down onto one knee, giving Jackson yet another window.

This time he focused his water onto a single waterbearer, forming it into the shape of a large mallet.

Before the crab could fully recover from the last hit, the mallet was upon him, with the force of its impact sending the beast flying across the deck. It crashed messily into the ships’ gunwale, sending wood flying.

Striding over confidently, Jackson struck the mallet down to a blade.

“My humblest apologies your majesty,” He said mockingly as King Crab groaned in pain. “But there’s only one king I follow.”

As if on queue, the surface of the water behind King Crab erupted, as a figure breached the ocean surface. Within seconds they landed on the deck of the ship between the two combatants.

Dressed in a suit of skintight orange and green scale mail, Arthur Curry stood triumphantly, looking down at the oversized crustacean. Long blonde hair, now dripping wet, flowed down to his shoulder, and a messy beard sat upon the lower half of his face. He was imposing. Like a true king.

“Took your time, old man.” Jackson smiled, stepping forward and greeting his friend with a half hug.

The man merely chuckled in response initially, before finally responding in a deep warm voice. “I figured you could use the workout.”

The two stood above King Crab, looking down at the mess before him.

“One of your usuals?” Jackson asked, looking between them and his mentor.

“Sadly so. Normally King Crab wouldn’t dare engage with a fishing vessel.” Arthur scratched his beard for a moment, as if in thought. “Seems like Atlantis really is dropping all pretenses of wanting to keep the peace.”

He let out a deep sigh. Jackson knew that if he were to look him in the eye now, he’d see that oh-so-familiar look of sadness. His mind struggled to find the right words of comfort, but before he could say anything, their new prisoner stirred once more.

“Traitorrr” It hissed feebly, raising their regular-shaped arm towards the now pensive Arthur, before letting out another groan.

Jackson looked between the two, mouth open, unsure of what to say. Arthur merely stood in silence. After what felt like an eternity, he finally turned away.

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.

[Hound55]

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

G R E E N L A N T E R N

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^{_{H A L J O R D A N ♦ S P A C E C O P ♦ S E C T O R 2 8 1 4 ♦ H U M A N}}

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

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<sup>“It is not power that corrupts but fear. Fear of losing power corrupts those who wield it and fear of the scourge of power corrupts those who are subject to it.”
- Aung San Suu Kyi, Freedom from Fear</sup>

Hal Jordan, a test pilot for Ferris Aircraft fulfilling a defense contract in it's production of the latest in hightech aircraft, was in his mid-twenties when he experienced the moment that changed his life.

An Unidentified Flying Object, approximated to be the size of a marble, repeatedly peppered his aircraft as he attempted a number of complex manouevres in the test phase. Forced into an emergency landing out on the Bonneville Saltflats.

Unreported, as he jumped from the cockpit, he discovered that the U.F.O had been a green ring of some description. Picking the ring up to inspect it, it rapidly transported him to a location where he discovered a wrecked craft along with a dying alien lifeform going by the name Abin Sur.

Abin Sur survived long enough to explain that within the ship was a Lantern which powered the ring, with the recitation of the oath all Officers of the Green Lantern Corps receive. And a warning... that with light, comes shadows. That nothing creates the shadow of corruption like Fear, and that the Corps itself had become rife with these problems. It had lead to Abin Sur's demise.

He donned the ring and found new purpose.

Basic training he met Kilowog. The Drill Sargent who's character was beyond reproach. But upon graduation, he found that few had maintained the moral standards that Kilowog had instilled. It seemed, in fact, that Kilowog had been put in his role as trainer due to his "difficulty to go along to get along" with other Green Lanterns out in the line of "service".

Hal found corruption and grift everywhere. The Corps had long developed a reputation amongst the universe as being the law, but they had lost the universe's trust. Few would request the intervention of Green Lanterns, and most would seem apprehensive when Green Lantern presence was known - too many Corpsmen charging protection and accepting/expecting kickbacks.

But Hal was always an idealist. Always a romantic. Ever since it was instilled in him as a child by his father, and the messages Kilowog delivered still rang true. If he were going to be a space cop, he was going to do it clean. And if the system in play wouldn't accept it, then he'd have to clean up the system as he existed.

Becoming despised and distrusted by most of his fellow Corpsmen, the Green Lantern of Sector 2814, is intent on shining light on the corruption. For those who worship Evil's might, whether they wear a ring or not... will learn to beware his power, and scurry from this Green Lantern's light.

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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Hal is intent on cleaning up the Green Lantern Corps and being the best damn space cop he can be. This is not the same brash, cocky cardboard cutout Hal we're used to though.

This Hal KNOWS how dirty the Corps has become, and the reputation the Corps has developed over time. He also knows the corps is far bigger than just him. He's doing his damnedest to do things by the book. He can't just throw himself into cutting down huge swaths of dirty space cops... he's Gordon in Gotham. He's discovering corruption in a system that the Guardians of the Universe could not believe has been corrupted - mainly due to ego - so he's taking down individual dirty space cops and addressing it where he can see it in a force that spans some 3,600 sectors.

That said, he's not some Internal Affairs equivalent Green Lantern... he's the Green Lantern of Sector 2,814, and as such his only interaction with other space cops, clean or dirty, are cross-jurisdictional situations - where according to Corps mandate both GL's are to work such cases to a conclusion.

As for my own motivations and reason for pitching this version.

Well, confession time...

First, if I had to write regular comics' Hal Jordan for a month or two I would probably shoot myself in the face.

And second, someone might've discovered this green and yellow Serpico picture and worked backwards from there...

That said, I like the thought of the far-reaching universal police force being rife with corruption, and the ways that might re-shape and affect the cosmic side of such a game. Makes the Ravagers and Guardians of the Galaxy make a bit more sense in relief - "What do you guys stand for?" "Well... not THAT!". Perhaps the Nova Corps could be some effort on the part of another segment of the universe to come up with an alternative to justice than these bent space cops, who everyone but the Guardians can see is crooked?

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

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Hal Jordan - Green Lantern of Sector 2,814 - Has a strange tendency to operate in plain clothes/undercover, will often use the ring to take the form of local green life forms, if any are regionally appropriate. Cautious planner, but very brave in willingness to put himself at the center of high danger situations in the attempt to uncover cosmic level crimes. He seems "distant" to most other Green Lanterns, because of the nature of the job and the trust issues he's developed along the way. Amongst Earth based heroes (like the Justice League and Avengers) he seems "distant" due to his experiences which see the Earth as just one world in a universe spanning 3,600 sectors, albeit one world over which he has considerable sentimentality.

Kilowog - Personal Trainer / Drill Sargent to New Recruits - Still keeps contact with Green Lantern Jordan. Somewhat rare as most have viewed maintaining ties with the Bolovaxian to be adverse to advancement. In a universe where so few can be trusted, Kilowog has always remained a treasured friend to Hal within the Corps.

Carol Ferris - CEO Of Ferris Aircraft and new commercial airline Ferris Air - Former lovers, current friends, one of the few people on Earth who knows anything about the Green Lanterns and their role in the greater universe. Close confidant to Hal, just as Kilowog anchors him with perspective from within the GL universe, Carol keeps him grounded with his humanity and the perspective of home.

The Guardians of the Universe - Old when the universe was young, these founders of the Green Lantern Corps are not without considerable ego. They created the Lanterns as their second attempt to bring justice and order to a disorderly universe eons ago and due to the length of time that the Lanterns have shown to be relatively successful they struggle to see flaws in the current status quo.

The Living Tribunal - The Living Tribunal remains the best, albeit final, recourse for high-level questions of justice throughout the known universe. It deals with matters of high-level cosmic importance. As yet no incident has been "overturned upon appeal" after intervention of The Living Tribunal...

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Patience.

It’s often a lost art in the Corps. The Rings navigate, so more often than not your average Green Lantern corps member will travel at top speed and let the most powerful weapon in the cosmos do its thing. The rings target the willful, so often most Green Lantern’s will move first with blunt force and let the ring cover any shortcomings.

It’s almost like they’ve never sat on a tarmac whilst mechanics make the preliminary modifications they’ve recommended.

A lot can be learned from sitting back and waiting. If Hal were honest he didn’t particularly like it either. It didn’t FEEL natural. But he’d long had the benefits instilled in him regardless.

<“Alms..?”> A hollow coin rattled. A vestigial limb waved in tired appreciation.

Aphalaxia IV. A poor world which was moving towards isolationism. Well… global election pending, but the trends were certainly there. Hard to argue with their decision there either. They’d been exploited by every single interplanetary relationship, and certainly by the Green Lantern Corps. Aphalaxia IV was on the boundary between 4 different Green Lantern sectors, and due to it’s circumtriple orbit of three different stars, it had found itself paying protection money to multiple Green Lanterns.

The carcass had been picked clean.

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

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Post 1 - Chasing The Pale Green Dot

[Hound55]

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

T A L K A T I V E T A W N Y E S Q .
A T T O R N E Y A T L A W

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^{_{T A W K Y T A W N Y ♦ L A W Y E R ♦ M E T R O P O L I S ♦ T I G E R}}

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

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<sup>“There is no animal as dangerous as a wounded tiger.” - West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee

"There is no client as scary as an innocent man." - Michael Connolly, The Lincoln Lawyer</sup>

Tawky Tawny started life as an ordinary tiger cub, in a jungle in South Asia. When he was still very young, his mother was killed by a big game hunter. The cub was found and befriended by a schoolteacher, and Mr. Tawny grew up in their house. After one year of elementary schooling functioning as something of a "class pet", Tawny had grown too big to be allowed inside the little schoolhouse in the jungle, but he remained something of a mascot, quietly sitting outside all day, as if listening, and schoolchildren would often ride and romp around the school on his back.

One day another tiger came to the area and killed some of the Natives, who blamed Mr. Tawny and beat a path to the school's door. Tawny escaped into the the jungle with the aid of the schoolteacher, where Captain Marvel overheard the commotion from flying above. Using the Wisdom of Solomon, Captain Marvel whisked the tiger away to the sanctuary of the Rock of Eternity, where he wished wished out loud that Tawny could talk. At that moment, the wizard Shazam announced that if it were truly required, such a wish could indeed be fulfilled, but that as with all things would come a price. With a bowl of liquid, a mystical serum for energizing an animal's brain and enabling it to use its vocal chords for speech. He placed it in front of Tawny, who lapped it up, and was now very pleased to find himself able to speak. Captain Marvel returned to the village with the tiger now able to provide his own defense. However, hearing a tiger claim he didn't kill and eat someone was evidently no more believable than if the tiger hadn't been able to speak in the first place. Mr Tawny was left with little recourse, he assured the villagers that he could find the one responsible for the deaths. His nose leading the way, Tawny tracked down the new tiger and fought him to submission. Tawny then pointed to the paw and track markings of the other tiger, which matched those left by the killer. The natives agreed that Tawny was innocent.

And summarily killed the other tiger with clubs and spears, right in front of Mr Tawny.

Mr Tawny decided at this point that this was bound to happen again, and that America seemed a far mre suitable for a civilised tiger, such as he.

One Captain Marvel flight later, and Mr Tawny was in Fawcett City, a fine location for a tiger trying to find his way. Assisting Captain Marvel in numerous ways, he became such a friend and revered member of 'The Marvel Family', that when he expressed disappointment in not being a U.S. Citizen, the Mayor of Fawcett City himself pulled strings to ensure that Tawky Tawny be allowed to sit for the citizenship test - passing it with flying colours.

When asked by the Mayor at his Citizenship ceremony, what he'd first like to do as an American citizen, he said he'd like to watch a baseball game with his good friend Captain Marvel and then get to work preparing to take the BAR exam.

For Mr Tawny had never forgotten that fear of persecution he experienced as a young tiger, years before.

Tawky Tawny had a specific set of skills, and a hunger for justice.

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:

---

Mr Tawky Tawny evaded persecution himself, and combined with seeing himself as a very sophisticated tiger, he has developed a newfound appreciation for the law since the magic of the wizard Shazam.

As for Detective Chimp's own motivations, in terms of why he chooses to work for Mr Tawny despite appearing to not like him very much... well, that will all come out in the wash.

We'll be telling legal fiction stories in a superhero setting with an 'odd couple' tiger and chimpanzee. I'm really not sure how much more selling this concept really needs.

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

---

Detective Bobo T. Chimpanzee - Call him 'Detective Chimp', he is Mr Tawny's Private Investigator. He does not respond to his given name, and will use threats to fling something Mr Tawny really doesn't want to know about if this rule is broken. Drinks heavily. Smokes. Always takes off Veterans Day as a personal work holiday, where he goes drinking with someone called 'Rex the Wonderdog' according to his calendar. Once let slip about a place called the 'Bureau of Amplified Animals', but has never referred to it again and won't answer to questions about it. Is extremely cagey with his past, but incredibly competent at his job, if a little socially maladjusted towards Talky Tawny himself.


Mary Batson - Operates as Tawky Tawny's legal secretary both to help out their good friend and "because Gee Golly, I have to check out the big smoke!". The Superheroine who also turns into the female Captain Marvel upon speaking the name of the wizard Shazam, and is a somewhat naive, yet eager helper at Tawky Tawny's legal office.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

“No. It’s not a criminal offense… HOWEVER if you don’t pay your tickets, like I said before, they CAN issue a warrant for your arrest. You need to pay your tickets.” Mr Tawny said, leaning back in his chair.

“But I don’t want to.” His client folded her arms.

“You don’t want to go to court over this. Any judge who has to handle this in a court setting is already going to be irritated that it got this far.”

“I don’t care. How did they even know it was me?”

Tawky Tawny sighed deeply.

“Call it police intuition.” Detective Chimp called out, whilst sitting upside down emptying the contents of a flask into his mouth, balancing his deerstalker hat on one of his feet with his tail.

The client went to reply before Mr Tawny replied, “If you’ll forgive my Investigator’s abruptness, I believe he’s referring to the fact that there aren’t too many people using a literal rocket as their preferred mode of transport, even in Metropolis.”

Roxy Rocket pouted. “But it’s not even registered or insured to me…”

“Mmmm. Didn’t hear that.” Mr Tawny muttered, swiveling his chair and fiddling with the blinds.

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

---

Posts pending.

[mickilennial]

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

---

“Oh, I fully intend to give you an old-school beat-down. I'm just saying, on top of it all, that you're full of crap.”

^{_{Donna Troy ♦ Archaeologist* ♦ Themyscira, Greece ♦ Justice League, Covenant of the Amazons}}

Character Sheet

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

---

Forced to pick up the mantle after the disappearance of Diana, Donna has hefty shoes to fill in the world at large. Diana’s past enemies such as Circe and Ares have started to move pieces on the board, manipulating the heroine’s absence to their own ends. Donna’s investigation into Diana will inevitably lead her to the heroine’s apartments all around the world including Gateway City, Washington DC, Manhattan, Athens, Istanbul, and other locations. But investigations in her experience tend to get sidetracked quite often. That’s not even accounting the mind games and insecurities Donna has to deal with, or the superhuman criminals that want to test her patience.

It’s the making of a great journey.

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

---

I had a framework for a Wonder Woman story where Donna was missing, so I decided to do the inverse in a fresh timeline. Diana is the more experienced fighter, investigator, and heroine so throwing Wonder Girl into her role seems a little interesting to me. There’s not going to be any incredible revisions to Donna outside of the framework, so I’m hoping of seeing where that interpretation takes me as I try to have her run into as much trouble as possible.

We’re going to have some Giganta tussles, Ares and Circe doing their thing, and probably a lot of mundane techie criminal types. Maybe Intergang if Hillan feels the need to establish them as doing their usual stuff. You’ll also see me lean a little bit into Greek mythology and some of the stuff I was thinking about doing with Aquaman a few games ago, which probably just means making some things a little more obtuse and complicated than they have to be. Whereas with Aquaman my question was “What if Game of Thrones was underwater?” I’m going to draw on bits of National Treasure and other things to make my interpretation feel a little more whole and hopefully by the end of it I will look like I know what I’m doing and I haven’t forgotten most of the Wonder Woman comics I read years upon years ago.

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

---

^{Persons of Interest
◼ Hippolyta of Themyscira, Queen of the Amazons
◼ Diana of Themyscira, Princess of the Amazons
◼ Ares
◼ Circe
◼ Heracles
◼ Others to Come!}

P O S T C A T A L O G

---

TBD

Sample Post

Diana Prince.

Princess of the Amazons. Progeny of Zeus. Master Tactician of Themyscira. Ambassador Between Worlds. Member of the Justice League. Superhero.

For all of Diana’s reputable titles there was always one that stood above all else for Donna Troy: Sister. It was their connection, their relationship, the mold that truly mattered most. Everytime she fell, Diana was there, ready with an outstretched hand. With that hand absent, Donna had been left to her own devices, but it wasn’t until the weeks turned to months when worry truly settled in the former Wonder Girl’s soul. Diana was independent, but she was never so careless in the time Donna had come to know her. Had Diana gone into incredible danger she would’ve told her. That is what she believed.

But that hadn’t happened. The protector of the amazons, her mentor and sister, had disappeared without a trace.

Hippolyta didn’t give Donna much solace of mind, as was the case for every single interaction Donna had with the Queen of the Amazons since she had come to Themyscira as an infant. But unlike every other time, Donna hadn’t acted impulsive, rude, or disrespectful. The Queen was concerned, she just had a crappy way of showing it. Donna could respect that even if she didn’t like it, besides, she had bigger problems to deal with. She had to leave Themyscira and seek out Diana. Maybe by retracing her steps she could get some sort of idea of where she went? Could she find out what sort of trouble she was in? Should she contact the Justice League and seek aid? Or would this all be up to her in the end? Her burden to bear as Diana’s ward? A smattering amount of questions snaked around in Donna’s brain as she dug through her room on the eastern coast of the island. To answer any of these questions she was going to have to leave the island. She hadn’t ever done the journey alone.

“Hera.” Her voice shook, the nerves still getting to her. “Give me strength.”

There was a quivering laughter as she tightened the bracelets around her forearms. “That’s what Diana always says, right? Does it work?”

She frowned, looking outwards of a window overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. There were no signs from the gods. There hadn’t been those sort of things in centuries, not since Olympus locked itself away from the world. She wasn’t sure why she thought she would’ve seen some sort of sign.

“Right. That makes sense.”

Her hand clutched the lasso on the table by the window as she grabbed the rest of the essential items.

She had some flying to do.

[Abstract Proxy]

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

W A R L O C K ' S D A U G H T E R

---

^{_{D A R L A A Q U I S T A ♦ B A R I S T A ♦ G O T H A M ♦ V I G I L A N T E}}

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

---

^{"I'm the Warlock's Daughter."}

Newly returned to the land of the living, Warlock's Daughter is a growing presence in the city of Gotham. Darla Aquista is dead, but Laura Fell walks in her place. Indebted to the mob sorcerer responsible for her resurrection, Warlock's Daughter is on a quest for vengeance. She wants to find her killers. She wants to make them pay. She wants to send them straight to Hell. Still, she wants to be good, she wants to be a hero. She really does. Mostly. Sometimes. At least when it's easy. Unfortunately, her aspirations to make her second shot at life better than her first are frequently interrupted by her adopted father regularly calling on her to pay down installments on her debt.

Unburdened by Robin or another heroic figure to guide her, Warlock's Daughter is capable of great evil, while remaining mostly a force of good in Gotham.

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:

---

What does it mean to be good?

How does dying and then being resurrected affect you?

How do you hold onto what feels like an increasingly distant hope of being good, while being compelled to work with villains and doing bad things?

How much are you willing to pay for vengeance? What are you willing to lose?

What must a magician do in order to navigate an increasingly complicated world that appears to exist only in difficult to parse shades of gray?

These and more, are all questions I would like to explore.

My goal is to present a more grounded version of Warlock's Daughter with all the difficult moral struggles that afflict a character deeply uncertain of her own alignment or even purpose. Being a big fan of all things related to magic, I've been interested in diving into magic in a superhero setting for some time now. The DC Universe is particularly rich in terms of magic lore, so my hope is that Warlock's Daughter will offer me a somewhat grounded, more limited start from which to begin exploring this teeming arcane ecosystem, that to be honest is a bit overwhelming in scope.

As I would like to start things simply, launching a straight forward plot, and providing Warlock's Daughter with few already established connections. It is my fond hope that I will be able to present a more gritty, modern take on magic, in line with perpetual favorites like Constantine and the Dresden Files.

Adrift without a supporting cast to curtail her excess violence, Warlock's Daughter will be a vigilante struggling to find solid moral footing. Personal goals centering on revenge will be perpetually threatened by demands forced upon her by the outstanding debt she owes to her adopted father, Johnny Warlock. Attempts to step out of the darkness will be interrupted by memories of the grave and ties to the criminal underworld of Gotham. Hard choices and grim actions await the Warlock's Daughter. The people of Gotham may ultimately come to see Warlock's Daughter as a hero, an ashen faced specter dedicated to saving Gotham. However, they might just as easily find they are troubled by an occult horror, a being lost to selfish desires and burning bright with unbridled rage.

Given that this RP is a group RP, my ultimate goal is of course writing with other players. Characters based in Gotham and Blüdhaven would make a lot of sense for Warlock's Daughter to interact with, as well as any magic oriented characters, but I am open to any ideas.

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

---

Johnny Warlock: A prominent mobster in Gotham City, Johnny Warlock is an occult villain aiming to carve out a piece of Gotham for himself that he can profitably rule. Working his way up from mob enforcer, he commands a motley gang of criminals that once belonged to Henry Aquista. Following Henry Aquista's death as part of an occult ritual to resurrect Aquista's daughter, Johnny has taken on the role of adoptive father to the returned Darla Aquista, now known as Laura Fell or Warlock's Daughter.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

"You should eat. It's good, best noodles this side of the Hudson River."

"Not hungry," Laura replied, staring disinterestedly at the steaming bowl of ramen in front of her. The chopsticks the waiter had handed her remained frozen, unmoving in her hand despite the pleasant smell that accompanied the lazily rising steam.

Johnny Warlock let out a loud sigh, shaking his head as he watched her. She knew she looked the same. Long black hair. Pale skin. Too much black. Black T-shirt. Black jeans. Black hair band. Black choker. Same frown. Same cold eyes. He readjusted his ponytail, but the annoyed look that had appeared stayed Johnny Warlock's face,"You gotta eat, kiddo. Come on, Laura. We've talked about this. You can't keep doing this. You can't keep starving yourself."

"I can't taste it," she conceded.

"Give it some time, dying ain't easy, you know? It's going to take a while before you are back to the way you were."

"It's been more than a year," she hissed back.

Johnny shrugged, returning his attention to the mountain of pork dumplings arrayed in front of him. Minutes passed quietly, before he spoke again,"These things don't work on a timetable you know. You gotta be patient. How's everything? You manage to-"

"You don't have to pretend," Laura interrupted, letting the chopsticks fall from her hands as she pushed the bowl of ramen away from her. "You don't have to pretend that you care. Just tell me what you want. That's why you called me. It's always why you call me. It's the only reason you bother me any more. Isn't it, Johnny?"

"That hurts, kiddo," Johnny said, his voice rising. "I respected your father. He was my friend. He was my family. I loved the man as if he was my own flesh and blood. He was like a brother to me. I promised him I would look after you if anything happened to him. And that's what exactly I am going to do."

"You killed him."

"He made his choice," Johnny replied with a sudden icy confidence. He shifted in place. His back straightening as he slowly looked into her eyes," I told him there was a price to pay. He knew. He always knew."

A slow smile appeared on Laura's face, before it twisted into a cruel sneer, "Did you? Did you really, Johnny? Did you really tell him? Did you really tell him what the price was? I don't think you did. That's not like you. You don't warn people. You don't tell people the truth. You're not honest. You're a liar. You're a killer. You're a monster. Just like me."

The Warlock's Daughter smiled as she saw the anger begin to bubble beneath the surface of Johnny Warlock's skin. Arcane fire lit bright embers his eyes and he clinched his fists, his broad hands beginning to shake, "You watch your mouth, kiddo. A man's got his limits and I sure as hell have mine. You think I came here to listen to you lecture me? You gonna tell me what's right now? Fuck that!"

"I did what your father asked. I brought you back. I tore your soul from the hands of the Devil himself. So don't talk to me that way, Darla," Johnny said, roughly jabbing a finger into her shoulder from across the table. "Don't act like you are better than me. Don't think for a second that you've got something to hold over me. Don't forget your place. I own you. I own you until your debt is paid in full. And don't you fucking forget."

Laura recoiled, clasping her hands nervously on top of rickety table. Gone from her voice was any hint of contempt and any faint trace of rebellion, "Laura, I'm Laura. Darla is gone."

"Sorry. Sorry, kiddo. I didn't mean it that way," Johnny said, placing his hands over her shivering hands with an apologetic smile. Her heart lurched and she felt an overwhelming sense of fear envelop her. She gasped wordlessly, taking a series of deep shuddering breaths as she struggled to pull away.

"I'm just saying. You gotta learn to listen. I know how this works. You don't. You're just a kid. You're just a girl. You can't go tearing the city apart to find your killers. That's not how this works. That was never how this worked. We gotta take it one step at a time. We gotta stay below the radar. There are all sorts of freaks out there these days. Madmen dressing up as bats and worse. No, no, we do this my way. We do this the right way."

"Fine, fine, you're right. Of course, you're right," Laura said apologetically, lowering her eyes to burn a hole in the table. She hated herself. She hated her fear. She hated Johnny Warlock. But she hated the shame she felt most of all.

"Great, glad we got that settled," Johnny said cheerfully, already untroubled by their latest spat. "Now, you ready to listen? I got some work for you to do. Nothing major. But I need it handled. Quietly. Quickly."

"Of course," Laura said, forcing herself to look up and smile. "What do you want me to do this time? What do you want me to steal? Who do you want me to maim? Who do you want me to murder? What do you want me to destroy?"

Johnny waved a hand dismissively with a sly wink and flash of his teeth, before he devoured another pork dumpling, "You know, let's talk about that a little bit later. First, why don't you tell me about this Sarah chick that's been hanging around your apartment. I thought we cleared that up the last time."

"Please, please no, I'm sorry," Laura pleaded in a sudden whisper.

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

---

1.01
1.02

[Supermaxx]

S U P E R B O Y
S U P E R B O Y

^{"Truth and justice-- my way."}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Subject 13-B04 _________________________________________________________ Human/Kryptonian Hybrid Clone | Superhero _________________________________________________________ Metropolis | Delaware | United States C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Superboy's status as a clone of Superman is a closely guarded secret. To the public, he's a successful subject of CADMUS's Superhuman Enhancement Program, which aims to give superpowers to ordinary people. His abilities are merely based on Superman's own. - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ PULL MY STRINGS ◼ Superboy #1 ◼ Superboy #2 ◼ Superboy #3 ◼ Superboy #4 ◼ Superboy #5 ◼ Superboy #6 ◼ Superboy #7 ◼ Superboy #8 BROKEN BOY ◼ Superboy #9 -

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ Six months ago, Superboy was created by CADMUS using the stolen DNA of the Man of Steel. Dr. Paul Westfield- an immortal genius from aeons passed- envisioned the boy as the first soldier in an army of genetically modified superhumans to act as a bulwark for humanity against the many threats bearing down on it from beyond the veil. Superboy was designed with the sole purpose of selling this idea to the powers that be and, eventually, the general public. His rise was meteoric. Guided by his handler, Rex Leech, he appeared on every form of media known to man: from interviews with the Daily Bugle and G. Gordon Godfrey to starring in his own reality TV show, Behind the S. Every moment of his life that wouldn't compromise CADMUS's secrets has been recorded for all the world to see: every battle, every date, every vulnerable moment- broadcast in high definition. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ This iteration of Superboy is a semi-continuation of my previous run on him in Sensation & Wonder. I liked what I was doing with the character and still have plenty of ideas for future arcs. I'll still be touching on the same themes as I was before: portraying Superboy (and superheroes in general) as analogies for celebrities and influencers, and tackling the traditional struggle with legacy that's so central to Superboy's character. Given that some aspects of the previous game are no longer canon, one can look at those posts as painting a broad rather than specific picture of prior events. T H E A D V E N T U R E S O F S U P E R B O Y ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ S E A S O N 0 2 BROKEN BOY Superboy discovers just how little control he really has. Characters Involved: Guardian, Knockout, Tana Moon, Dr. Paul Westfield Desired # of Players: N/A

---

Sample Post

_{SEASON TWO One Universe: Unlimited}

SUPERBOY #0 Broken Boy

---

_{3,562 feet up ♦ Metropolis}

Superboy hovered three and a half thousand feet over the city of Metropolis. His city, ever since the big guy up and abandoned his post for reasons the world would never know. The weight of responsibility had never felt so heavy. Tension roiled all the way from his fingers to his feet. His back was knotted, stiff. An intense pain gnawed inside his chest. He let out a deep, unsteady breath, and tried to relax. Tried to let his limbs fall limp and his heartrate slow.

It didn't take.

The wind cracked like thunder as it whipped around his head. An airplane roared by a few thousand feet above him. And there was, too, the ever-present cacophony coming from the streets below. He could barely hear his own thoughts with everything ringing in his ears this close to the earth. Usually, if Superboy wanted a moment's peace, he'd soar far higher. He'd fly until and the blues, whites and greys of the sky turned to the stark black of space. It was quiet up there. It was the only place that was quiet, really.

But the thought of being that high up made his stomach churn. His wounds- barely a week old- seemed to tear themselves anew at even the thought of entering the thermosphere. That awful moment played back in his mind in perfect clarity.

" I want you to...fly up into orbit and let yourself fall."

All Westfield did was mutter a few, half-hearted words, and Superboy was gone. His consciousness arrested within his own body, severed from all control. Forced to watch from behind his eyes as he flew higher and higher to a place he'd once called his haven. He fought so goddamn hard to stay there. To clench his fist. To cry out for help.

But he couldn't.

And then he started to fall.

Superboy wasn't sure which was worse: the fall itself, or the impact. The latter brought the pain, of course. It broke him. Severed muscles in his back and snapped his arm in twain. Multiple ribs collapsed like twigs under a boot. A pierced lung. He could still recall the warm taste of blood flowing into his mouth and throat as he tried to breathe.

But the terror that had seized him on the way down- that choking fog of helplessness- is what kept him up at night. It was all he dreamt of now, and he couldn't fly any higher than four thousand feet into the air without fear dragging him back down to the earth.

'Coward,' He sneered. 'You think you can step up to the plate for Supes and you're afraid of frickin' heights.'

It took all his strength to hold back the flood of panic and anxiety. No time for this. No time to throw a pity-party for the poor little clone. Everything that'd happened was squarely his own damn fault. He'd gone after Knockout without a second thought. He'd torn Suicide Slum apart to sate his own ego. And he was the one who'd gotten the brilliant idea of bringing a civilian into all this.

Pain shot through his heart at the thought of Tana Moon, that brave, stupid intern at the Daily Planet he'd dragged into CADMUS's line of fire. He thought the Planet could help him uncover the heinous shit the company was up to. That paper had brought down titans of industry, mob bosses, supervillains- they were the only ones he thought he could bring his story to.

But he didn't talk to Perry White, or Lois Lane. He talked to an intern. He told her far more than was safe and then, when she wanted to take it public, he'd panicked. Clambered on back to Westfield because he thought he could figure it out himself.

He'd led CADMUS's cleaners right to her.

Because of him that girl was gone. Maybe dead. Maybe held in a black site somewhere.

'Gotta find out where they took her. My mistake, my responsibility. Better than sittin' here wallowin'.'

[Martian]

The Incredible, Unstoppable, Immortal, HULK

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

T H E H U L K

---

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

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

---

^{"The thing is…I’m always angry."}

Scientist Bruce Banner has had a hard life. Born to an abusive father who would ultimately kill his mother, Bruce had trauma from a young age. Spending most of his youth in foster care, Bruce would pour himself into academics. Attending university with a full scholarship, Bruce would spend his life studying gamma radiation and its potential uses. However his experiments would be taken over by the military, who wanted to explore gamma radiation uses as a weapon.

It was under this military leadership that an accident occurred, as massive amounts of gamma radiation was released in the facility. It was during this accident that Bruce absorbed a huge amount radiation as he saved the life of intern Rick Jones. Bruce would fall into a coma, doctors believing that he was on death’s door. But then he awoke, but not as Bruce Banner, but rather the Hulk. Breaking out of the hospital, the Hulk ran away from the military. He would spend the next year hiding from the military, switching between being Bruce and the Hulk.

Eventually the Hulk was captured and taken to a secret S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. It was there that Bruce began to have some control over the Hulk. Eventually Nick Fury trusted him enough to allow him to work with the newly formed Avengers, as a probationary member. Now Bruce is working to come to peace with the Hulk, while working for S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent and scientist.

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:

---

So the Hulk is a very tortured character, more so than just being angry. I’ve always found his psyche very interesting. And as someone who struggles with mental illness myself, I’ve always gravitated toward stories exploring that. I can tell you that mental illness is very difficult without having superpowers, much less being possibly the strongest being on Earth. The Hulk, with his shattered mind and different identities within it, can make for some interesting character interactions, even with only technically one character present.

I also want to address the horror associated with being the Hulk. The idea that you unintentionally changing into a raging monster and you can’t stop it. Also I’ll introduce some body horror elements to this Hulk, similar to the Immortal Hulk title, or even something like the film the Fly. Basically the Hulk form is not the end point of the radiation based transformations going on in Bruce Banner.

As for an initial story arc, I’m planning to have Bruce working for S.H.I.E.L.D. as a probationary member. He is then sent to stop an attempt at replicating the accident that created the Hulk. A big point of that would be Bruce questioning why anyone would want to make another monster like the Hulk.

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

---

Betty Ross: Bruce’s true love after meeting in university. She now works as a communications agent for S.H.I.E.L.D.
Gen. Thaddeus Ross: General in charge of capturing the Hulk until he helped the Avengers save the world. Currently keeps a close eye on the Hulk. Betty’s father.
Dr. Leonard Samson: Bruce’s appointed psychiatrist and psychologist by S.H.I.E.L.D. Is an expert in dealing with super-powered beings.
Rick Jones: Friend of Bruce after he saved his life at the gamma accident. Is now a junior agent at S.H.I.E.L.D. and a big advocate for the Hulk.
Dr. Walter Langkowski: A fellow gamma radiation researcher from Canada. Currently works close alongside Bruce Banner at the S.H.I.E.L.D. science division.
Gen. John Ryker: Corrupt army official in charge of the Gamma Corps, a military unit that is experimenting with gamma radiation as a weapon.
Capt. Emil Blonsky: A Russian immigrant, Emil joined the army as soon as possible. As been assigned to the Gamma Corps.
Pvt. Benjamin Tibbets: A fresh young army recruit. His first assignment was with the Gamma Corps.
Dr. Geoffrey Crawford: Bruce’s old professor. Joined the Gamma Corps to possibly find a cure for his terminal disease.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

The clock ticked again, meaning another minute had passed without talking. Bruce Banner was comfortable in silence, it brought a kind of peace to him, a lull in the storm. Perhaps Doctor Samson realized that as well as he had been very patient with him. Bruce tended to avoid looking Samson in the eyes, as he did so with most people. For he feared that if he stared in anyone’s eyes long enough, he would see the abyss within himself and the monster that lived there.

But with Samson in particular, there was another reason for Bruce to not look at his face. The government appointed psychiatrist had a neutral expression adorn his face, but Bruce could see the slight kind smile. It was a look he had first seen in his mother Rebecca’s face. It wasn’t overt happiness, but rather an acceptance of the situation and extending some kindness to those around them.

As Bruce thought of his mother, his mind drifted to other early memories. Soon his mind was spiraling down the tube of trauma, his childhood boogeyman laughing at him as he fell into the darkness. Fear swelled across Bruce’s body, that fear quickly turning into anger. There was a visible change in Bruce’s demeanor, his pupils dilating, his breathing accelerating, his fists clutching the sides of the chair with great strength.

“Bruce, is there something you would like to talk about?” asked Dr. Samson calmly.

Bruce continued to grip the chair, slowly causing it to warp. He then managed to say, “It’s the anger. It’s back. It wants me out of here.”

“You mean the Hulk?” questioned Samson, “If he wants to say something, why don’t you let him?”

“There’s no reasoning with him. If I give him an inch, he’ll take a mile, replacing me in this body,” explained Bruce.

“But you have managed to speak to him in the past,” stated Samson, “Making some kind of deal, like when you helped the Avengers.”

“He only went with that because it gave him things to smash,” scoffed Bruce.

“Then give him things to smash. As an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. they do provide you with missions, missions that have bad guys to beat up. You’re both sharing a body, so compromise is necessary,” explained Samson, “And I would like to try an exercise, one to help attune your mind.”

“Alright, what do I have to do?” asked Bruce.

“Just close your eyes,” answered Samson, “And listen to what I’m saying.

Bruce did so, his grip on the chair loosening as he was surrounded in darkness. Doctor Samson then began to talk, telling Bruce to imagine a relaxing place and focus on it. Bruce’s mind wandered to places he wished he could go to. The beaches of Hawaii immediately came to mind.

Before the accident, before he became the Hulk, Bruce had plans to marry Betty Ross, their ideal honeymoon in Hawaii. But that didn’t happen, and yet now in his mind, Bruce stood on the beach. It was exactly like he pictured it. Except there was somethings wrong. Instead of being a perfect sunny day, the sky was filled with black and purple storm clouds, electricity visible above. That and the ocean itself was a bright green in color.

And standing about twenty feet away from shore stood the Hulk, the green water up to his knees. Bruce then looked up and down the beach, only to see it abandoned save himself and the Hulk.

“You shouldn’t be here puny Banner,” said the Hulk as he turned to Bruce.

“We’re supposed to talk,” explained Bruce, “And we could start with what this place is?”

“Bad place,” answered the Hulk, “It’s a green world. Full of Hulks.”

“Hulks, plural?” questioned Bruce.

“Yes. Even you a Hulk puny Banner,” stated the Hulk.

Bruce was bewildered by this statement, wondering what it meant. But his body seemed to react to his confusion, as he felt his flesh ripple. Before Bruce could process what was going on, a face formed in his right palm. As Bruce looked at it, he immediately recognized the face of his father.

“You idiot,” shouted the father face, “You’re broken. You went and shattered your mind. You could never do anything right.”

“Shut up!” shouted Bruce as he slammed his left hand on his right hand, but the face moved, now placed on top of Bruce’s forehead.

“Look, they’re coming to see you,” said the father face.

And sure enough, as Bruce gazed at the ocean he saw figures rising from the green water. Some looked like him, others like the Hulk, but all of them were warped in some way. Bruce’s heart began to race as these deformed beings neared the beach.

“Hulk still strongest!” screamed the Hulk as he threw himself at the deformed Bruce and Hulk figures.

The battle was bloody, the Hulk tearing into these malformed copies. It was all too much for Bruce, who had a wave of anxiety rush over him. He then fell backwards, ending up on the beach.

Bruce closed his eyes, wishing the horror away. And when he finally opened his eyes again, he was lying on the floor of the conference room, his chair next to him.

“Bruce are you alright? Did you just have a seizure?” asked Doctor Samson as he helped him to his feet.

“No, just a weird vision,” said Bruce, his throat dry.

“Well, you should go to the infirmary,” suggested Samson.

“No, I’m fine,” replied Bruce, who then glanced at the clock, “And it seems that our session is done for today.”

“Alright, but if you feel unwell in any way, call me or any of the other medical staff,” stated Samson.

Bruce just nodded as he left the conference room. Even though the presence of the Hulk had receded, Bruce was uneasy. The green beach was probably some kind of hallucination, a side effect of being bombarded with radiation. But it had seemed like he was really talking to the Hulk, which would mean that those misshapen creatures were real.

The notion scared Bruce, having all these creatures existing in one’s mind. But like most times that Bruce felt overwhelmed with emotion, he turned to food. Bruce hoped that they were still serving lunch here in this S.H.I.E.L.D. facility’s cafeteria. As Bruce headed for the cafeteria, he was glad that feeling hungry was much easier to deal with for him than being angry.

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

---

Arc 1: Reprise of Destruction
1.01: Waking from a Dream
1.02: Out of the shadows, into the fire
1.03: Let slip the beast
1.04: The other side of the trees

[Simple Unicycle]

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

T H E Q U E S T I O N

---

^{_{V I C T O R S A G E ♦ J O U R N A L I S T ♦ H U B C I T Y , I L L I N O I S ♦ I N D E P E N D E N T}}

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

---

<sup>"I think it is more likely you are the butterfly, dreaming you are the man."
- Richard Dragon</sup>

You know the gist of it.

Charles Victor Szasz was born into poverty, the son of a prostitute. His mother died; he was raised in a home for problem children and kicked out when he was old enough. Taken in by chemist-turned-university-professor Aristotle "Tot" Rodor, Charlie was cleaned up, given a second chance at life. Going by Victor Sage now, he went to college, fell in love with a woman named Myra Fermin, and became a journalist for the Hub City Gazette.

Myra's brother, Wesley, was a corrupt politician with mob ties who became Mayor of Hub City in a landslide (read: rigged) victory against any and all opposition. Victor used some favors to squeeze an article he had written onto the front page of the Gazette's website. "Mayor Wesley Fermin: Incompetent, Ignorant, Or Insidious" was the title of the article that nearly got the Gazette sued for all they were worth, ended Vic's relationship with Myra, and cost Vic his job.

Blacklisted from every major media outlet in Hub City, Vic found work as a freelance writer for Starrstruck, a website and monthly magazine covering the latest scandals in Hub City's political scene. But he was not content, and so along came Tot, who needed help. Tot and his old colleague, Arby Twain, created Pseudoderm back in the 80s; a skin-like bandage bonded to the skin by a binary gas. The gas, however, was poisonous when exposed to the bloodstream, and so the pair abandoned the project. Twain, however, was planning on selling it. That couldn't happen.

And so, Tot created a mask for Vic using Pseudoderm to take on Twain's operation. The rest, as they say, is history. After bringing Twain to justice, Vic became The Question, Hub City's protector, taking on everything from petty crooks to mob families to attempting to expose and unravel the web of corruption that plagued the city. But one night, The Question vanished. Vic Sage stopped coming into work. Life continued on in the Hub as it so often did.

Now, a year later, he makes his return because some questions remain unanswered.

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:

---

Personally, I've been reexamining myself over the last few months, what I want to do, what I believe in, etc., etc.. I won't bore people with stuff about myself but I feel that I'm finally reigniting that spark I haven't felt since Ultimate One Universe all those years back and I'm excited to show you all what I can do now that I have both that spark back in me and five more years of writing experience since the last time I was really into these kinds of roleplays. If I flake out again, then please kill me.

Victor has technically been active as The Question for two years. However, after the first year he was forcibly removed from Hub City and planted into the woods to train with Richard Dragon, only now finally returning to his hometown to take on the faceless visage of The Question again. During his time with Dragon, he was trained in the martial arts and opened his mind up to the man's Zen philosophy, though that isn't to say that he experienced an overnight transition from a violent and self-righteous vigilante to a wisened protector of the weak; it was a slow and gradual process, one he is still undergoing. He is not perfect, nor will he ever be, but over the course of his journey he hopes to become the best man that he can be and to alleviate the suffering that permeates Hub City and its inhabitants.

I'll be taking a bit more of a self-contained approach to this, reimagining and recontextualizing some of my favorite Question stories (as well as writing new ones) in this modern day shared universe that the RP has established. I'm open to crossovers, of course, but I would have to really hash it out with whoever I want to work with (or who wants to work with me), as what has killed the little motivation I had in past Hype style games has been my overeagerness to commit to a crossover with absolutely no idea what I want to do with it. Feel free to pitch something to me, and I will hope that if I pitch something to another player that they are open to my ideas.

I don't know how long this roleplay will last, whether it be a few weeks or a few months or even a few years, but I hope to be able to write some cool stories and get to know you all better (or, in many cases, reknow).

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

---

Taking all inspiration from Dennis O'Neil's seminal The Question comic run that ran from 1987 to 1990, forever shaping the character as we know him in the comics and inspiring my lifelong love for Buddhist Zen philosophy.

Supporting Cast

Aristotle "Tot" Rodor - Vic's father figure and mentor, a former chemist and retired university professor who designed Vic's mask and is responsible for finally correcting the mistake in the binary gas that made it toxic to open wounds. He is a constant pillar of support for Vic, both in and out of his guise as the Question, though the old man has a rather sardonic way of showing his love, usually found chiding the young man.
Myra Fermin - Vic's former lover and sister of his long time object of hatred Wesley Fermin, currently head of public relations on her brother's mayoral cabinet. She and Vic are estranged; though they once loved each other, Vic's unyielding antipathy towards her brother and the subsequent article he wrote for the Gazette drove them apart.
Samuel "Sam" Starr - Vic's boss and friend, owner of Starrstruck Media Inc., a small news outlet in Hub City that focuses on political scandals and gossip, namely in the Hub but also in other cities around the US such as New York, Metropolis, Gotham, and so on. Though he and Sam are friendly, Vic can't help but wonder if his boss truly cares for him or simply the traffic his articles seem to attract to their site.
Richard Dragon - Vic's mentor in the ways of Zen, once a world famous martial artist and adventurer who now lives isolated in the woods, hoping to attain enlightenment. Though Vic doesn't know if he will ever see the man again, he is grateful for all that Dragon passed onto him either way.
Lady Shiva - The woman who ended Vic's life and then saved it, a deadly assassin and mercenary who works for all manner of clientele. Vic can't seem to get a read on her, no matter how much he tries, and he isn't sure if he'll ever know why she saved his life.

Antagonists

Wesley Fermin - Vic's primary target, Hub City's corrupt mayor who is in bed with the Gospel of Sinners. Vic, prior to this point, had made it his life's mission to take Fermin and everything he built down; now, he simply hopes to bring answers to the people of Hub City by bringing him to justice.
Reverend Jeremiah Hatch - An evangelist with a podcast and web show, as well as the founder and head of the Gospel of Sinners, Hub City's resident mafia. Vic doesn't even know of his involvement with the Sinners, though he will soon find out.
Max "Banshee" Bine - A mobster with the Chicago Outfit and associate of the Sinners, being the primary link between the two criminal families. Supposedly a mutant capable of manipulating sound waves using his voice, earning him his nickname.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

... Like A Butterfly

I was six years old the first time I saw a man get killed.

My mother was taking me to an ice cream shop a few blocks away from our house in Gordon's Corner, a once promising residential district in Hub City that had devolved into a slum by the time I was born. People called it Lucifer's Corner. That was underselling it. We were leaving the shop, ice cream cones in hand, when a car wrapped itself around a streetlight in the blink of an eye. The driver was killed on impact while the passenger pulled himself out of the window and barely managed to get up on his feet, stumbling in our direction.

That was when another car pulled up. A young man in ripped jeans and a tattered hoodie hopped out of the passenger's seat with a gun in his hand and a glint of hatred in his eyes. He marched right towards the man that just survived the crash, grabbed him by the nape of his neck like a puppy, then shot him twice in the back of the head. No hesitation. No time for his victim to get a word out. Didn't even look at us before hopping into the car with his friends and driving off.

My mother was screaming but I couldn't hear her. Everything seemed far away, like I had just been fitted with a new pair of concrete boots and tossed into the ocean. She pulled me away while screaming, took off her jacket and used it to wipe my face. She pulled the now bloody coat away and it was only then that I realized my face was covered in blood and brain matter. I didn't cry. I didn't understand what I had just seen. But it never left me. That man breathed his last on November 29th, 2001.

People used to ask me if I had nightmares about it for weeks after the fact. I always told them yeah and left it at that. Truth is they never stopped. Matter of fact, I'm having a nightmare about it right now. My surroundings twist and morph, my mother's crying visage fading away as darkness consumes everything. All that's left is me, the man, and the void. His cold, dead eyes peer into my own. There's no emotion there, no life, no spark behind the pupils.

As I stare into his eyes, I notice his skin is crawling, almost bubbling up as it consumes his features. It swallows his mouth, then his nostrils, ending with his eyes.

His lifeless eyes.

And then, as the skin finishes swallowing his features and his blond hair slowly fades into black, I realize that I am looking at myself.

I was twenty-six years old when I died.

I went to the docks chasing after my latest lead on Wesley Fermin. More proof of his mob ties, some racketeering ring, all the good stuff. When I got there, they were waiting for me. Must have known I'd becoming. About half a dozen mobsters with guns and snarls, ready to blow me away. I broke one's arm. Another probably hasn't walked right since. I think the third man's cornea ruptured as I hit him right in the eye socket.

Then a woman stepped forward and they all backed off. She had black silk for hair and obsidian eyes that shined with a reflection of the pure white snow on the ground. A small smile on her face, dangerous, a look that could kill. She took another step forward and I readied my fists, a show of confidence more than an actual invitation to fight. I didn't like hitting girls; still don't. "Back off. I don't want to hurt you," I said, bravado dripping off my tone.

"Don't you?"

Before I even knew what was going on, I was on the ground. My body was broken, bruised, bloodied. Decimated by the woman with the obsidian eyes. The mobsters stepped forward, laughing, those that I didn't already beat to a pulp at least. One had a pellet gun. His specialty, "didn't need anything stronger", stupid gimmick. Shot me in the head. Threw me into the Hupert River. I breathed my last in the icy cold waters on November 29th, 2021.

And then I lived again.

She saved me. The woman who killed me. Lady Shiva. Legendary assassin, martial artist, mercenary. She saw in me a kindred spirit, a warrior's spirit, someone who could decimate his opponents the way she did to me. Just needed some guidance, a teacher, and she knew just the man for the job. She took me to Tot's, let him patch me up a bit, and when I was able to walk again she sent me on my way to Richard Dragon. Once, he was a world famous martial artist and adventurer. Now, a hermit with a log cabin, living in the wilderness, chopping wood, meditating. He didn't seem like much.

"Gonna be cold tonight," he said when I approached. He grinned. "There's an axe and some logs out back. Get to chopping."

I looked at him like he was crazy, then glanced down at the cast my arm was wrapped in. "You're nuts if you think I can chop wood like this. Is this a test or something?"

His grin grew. "You could say that. Are you so stubborn that you'll just freeze your ass off rather than try?" I blinked at that. Dragon didn't give me time to answer as he turned around and walked back into the log cabin.

I went out back and picked up the axe, trying to find a good way to hold it. Took a bit to figure out how to do it with one hand, but I got the hang of it quicker than I thought. The logs splintered against the axe's blade, growing smaller and smaller, nice chunks for loading up into a fireplace or furnace. It took a few hours, but when I was done, I had a few armfuls of firewood to take back and forth, enough to last a night.

"Good work," he said. He got to work on starting the fire as I took a seat at a kitchen table. A kettle and two tea cups sat on it. When he was done, Dragon settled into the chair across from me, grabbed the kettle, and filled the two cups. He grabbed a cup and began to take a sip from it. Hesitantly, I took the other and did the same.

As the cup left his lips, he spoke, "Do you want to hear a story?"

"Sure," I said. "Tell me a story."

He smiled at me. "Once, there was a man who dreamed that he was a butterfly. He fluttered around here and there, carefree, content. He had nothing on his mind but going from flower to flower. But as with all dreams, his came to an end. And when he awoke, he pondered something: was he a man dreaming he was a butterfly? Or a butterfly dreaming he was a man?"

I snorted. "Everyone's heard that one. It's just hokey pseudo-philosophical shit."

"But the question still stands. What was he?"

"A man dreaming he was a butterfly. Otherwise we wouldn't be talking about it."

"But what if life, as we know it, is all just part of that butterfly's dream?"

"Then I guess that butterfly's got a sick sense of humor."

It was Dragon's turn to chuckle. "That he does."

Weeks passed. Eventually, my arm was freed from the cast, and I was able to chop wood with two hands. Still no training in the martial arts from Dragon. I'd ask and he'd smile and say that it was coming. One night, we sat on the porch together, the cool breeze soothing my sweat soaked skin. Winter was winding down and giving way to spring. I didn't think Dragon would speak and I wasn't sure if I wanted to either. Eventually he broke the silence.

"Why do you think Shiva sent you to me?" he said. I turned to look at him, but saw his eyes were set on the stars rather than myself. I turned my gaze to the stars with him.

I didn't have an answer. Didn't want to say that, so I just repeated what she told me. "She thinks that I'm a kindred spirit to her. Some kind of warrior that just needs the training to unlock his potential... Or something like that."

I could hear the smile through his tone. "That is why she thinks she sent you to me. Why do you think she did?"

Guess I would have to think of something. "... Because without someone to hone my body and my mind, I would have wandered this Earth in search of answers for the rest of my life and never found what I was looking for."

"And will you find them now?"

"That's the question I keep asking myself. I won't find the answer from you. But maybe... You'll give me a hint."

I looked to Dragon and found him looking at me, still holding that content smile on his face. Then, he stood and walked past me and onto the grass. "Get up. I'm gonna show you some moves." I blinked at that, but got up and followed right after him. He showed me some breathing techniques, stances, a few punches and kicks. Practical tools and movements of the body, meant to aid my mind in its trials and tribulations... And to beat the hell out of bad guys with.

I stayed with Richard Dragon a few more months before my training came to an end. Everyday started with chopping wood, then stacking it, then studying Zen, working on martial arts, and ending each day with long talks under the night sky with my mentor. When it was time for me to leave, hike back to civilization with my newfound skillset and knowledge, he finally spoke on Shiva's assumption that I held the spirit of a warrior, for the first time since that night so many months prior.

"I disagree with her on that," he said. "You fight, yes, but it is not for the joy of fighting. You find no passion in the fight itself. What you find passion in, what you fight for, is the never ending hunt for truth." He paused, meeting my eyes. "In another life, long ago, Shiva would have been a great warrior, crushing armies, leading her flock to victory. You, my friend, would have been a philosopher."

"The man dreaming he was the butterfly?"

"I think it is more likely you are the butterfly, dreaming you are the man."

We said our farewells. He sat down on his porch, watching me go as I started the trek back to civilization. Fifty miles to the nearest town, another fifty after that to reach Hub City. Nothing but the long road ahead of me, barren, no cars or people for miles around. Long way to go with only the clothes on my back. A few years ago, I would have dreaded doing anything like this, like most people.

Now?

Now I don't care.

Butterflies don't sweat distance.

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

---

"The Question" by Simple Unicycle

A R C # 1
A R C # 1

O D Y S S E Y
O D Y S S E Y

Issue #0: ... Like A Butterfly (See Above)
Issue #1: Devotion
Issue #2: ... Like A Bee
Issue #3: Self Care

A R C # 2
A R C # 2

Z E N A N D V I O L E N C E
Z E N A N D V I O L E N C E

Issue #4: TBA (Upcoming)

A R C # 3
A R C # 3

M A Y B E G O M O R R A H
M A Y B E G O M O R R A H

Issue #?: TBA (Upcoming)

[Retired]

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

G R E E N A R R O W

---

^{_{O L I V E R J O N A S Q U E E N ♦ V I G I L A N T E / B U S I N E S S M A N ♦ S T A R C I T Y ♦ Q U E E N I N D U S T R I E S}}

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

---

^{"I've failed this city. I've left it alone, and left the people I should be protecting exposed. I'm never going to let that happen again."}

The son of tech billionaire Robert Queen and his wife, Moira, Oliver inherited Queen Industries and all its holdings upon their passing before his 21st birthday. Like most opportunities, Oliver squandered it, instead choosing to live a life of affluent debauchery. Not long after, an apparent incident at sea left Oliver stranded on a seemingly deserted island and thought dead to the world.

But things are rarely as they seem.

After three years of harsh survival on an island fraught with danger, Oliver Queen returned to civilization a changed man. In the four years since his return to Star City, Oliver has dedicated himself to cleaning up his city, rooting out corruption, and helping the downtrodden.

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:

---

As a character, Oliver's goals are typical of his portrayals. I'm not looking to discover electricity with this interpretation, just to keep it grounded.

I have no interest in telling an origin story here. This is a Green Arrow who is experienced and highly trained. He has seven years of vigilantism under his belt if we count his time on the island bringing down Chien Na Wei's heroin operation. He's had a successful career in uprooting and destroying Star City's organized crime families. He has allies on the police force, in the district attorney's office, and in the local vigilante community. He has his fortune, his company, and all the technological perks that come with it.

I plan to use Ollie as a vehicle to have fun with good 'ol fashioned, street-level crime-busting with a sprinkle of political activism. While thus far in his story, his role as Green Arrow has been largely kept to the Star City limits, I also plan to put the character in positions prime for collaboration and crossovers.

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

---

I'm not going to list every foe Ollie has or has not faced thus far, but the major highlights are as follows:

Chien Na Wei, AKA China White:

The ruthless leader of one of the South Pacific's largest drug empires. The island Oliver washed up on was home to a major portion of her operation, and the two clashed fiercely culminating in the near-death of the drug lord and the collapse of her criminal enterprise.

Isabel Rochev:

Former partner to the late Robert Queen. Arranged for Oliver's accident at sea in order to remove him from control of Queen Industries after watching the young Queen run the business into the ground over the course of a few months. Upon his return to Star City, and another attempt at his life, Rochev was arrested and control of the company was relinquished back to Oliver.

Werner Zytle, AKA The Count:

The head of the largest organized crime family in Star City. With control over most aspects of the city's criminal doings, as well as its political infrastructure, his organization was the central focus of Oliver's initial couple of years as the Green Arrow. It is only recently that Oliver has managed to finally bring Zytle and his crime family to its knees. Although the organization has largely dissolved in the last few months, Vertigo, a designer drug engineered by Zytle, still plagues the city.

I have plans for more, of course. For the most part, though, I'm interested in taking obscure and/or joke characters and turning them into genuine threats and adversaries, updating them for the modern world with a grounded approach.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

The city was alive. Three million voices calling out all at once. They spoke of many things; told many tales. Newfound happiness. Unexpected tragedies. Simple joys and complicated loves. The loudest voices, though, the ones that so often were shouted up to the heavens begging for a response of any kind, were the ones so often ignored. It's not that they went unheard, rather those that were in place to hear didn't care to listen.

Star City, the great tech capital of northern California, was cold. Like many American cities, it had been corrupted and twisted; the warm, beating heart surgically removed by a trillion-dollar scalpel and replaced by an unfeeling facsimile. Its soul had been bottled up into jars labeled 'elitism' and tucked far away in the deepest recesses.

Three million voices. A choir of whispers and screams, laughter and tears. They rang out across the peaks of cutting-edge skyscrapers, danced through the picturesque suburbs, and softly died out amongst the furthest, destitute portions of the city. They cried out for help. For hope. Pleaded with the powers-that-be to do something, anything, for the good of the many.

Three million voices failed time and time again by those who could, who should, be amplifying those voices' calls for change. Those voices have gone unanswered for too long. No longer will their empty echoes clatter hopelessly against imposing towers of metal, glass, and greed.

The city was alive, and it beat with a calculating rhythm supplied by the artificial blood of lucre. Enterprising indifference was a disease that corroded its bones.

Once, a lifetime ago, I had neglected the city and abandoned its people to languish needlessly. It was a mistake that I will never let happen again.

My name is Oliver Queen. I hear the voices of my city. I am listening. This is our home and it's time to cut away the rot.

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

---

[Kyoka]

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

X - 2 3

---

^{_{L A U R A ♦ A S S A S S I N ♦ N U N A V U T, C A N A D A ♦ 'T H E F A C I L I T Y'}}

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

---

^{"In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer." - Albert Camus}

X-23, that was the name given to the greatest creation of the 'Facility', their one and only success but also the only one that they needed. Since she was created the 'Facility' shifted their resources away from cloning and towards developing X-23 into the most efficient, ruthless and most importantly obedient assassin that they could. To aide in this they have conducted numerous physical and chemical experiments on her to test the extent of her capabilities. Over the years they have developed various fail-safes meant to protect themselves from various imagined scenarios where X-23 has somehow been wrestled out from under their control without their expressed consent. They are confident that they are well prepared for every possible scenario.

My intent for this character is to start from the very beginning. Laura is a clone of Wolverine that has been created by the 'Facility', an offshoot of the Weapon X programme. Using Laura as an agent/assassin they eliminate any competition or potential security risks, they will stop at nothing to protect themselves and enforce their own agenda. Thus my approach to Laura's character will be starting from a 'clean slate' that can be built upon. Laura is viewed by the 'Facility' as nothing except for a tool, a weapon, and she has known no life outside of the 'Facility'.

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:

---

Laura is one of those characters that I always find myself being rather drawn towards and feeling a personal connection with, I guess in part she has a coolness factor to her which helps but I find myself more interested in the obstacles in her life that she has overcome and they journey she has taken to find a sense of identity and a growing confidence and pride. Even in her earliest stories I found myself really appreciating the character, although also being a bit frustrated at some of the what I felt were questionable decisions that were made with her.

My driving motivation while writing stories involving Laura will be to really capture the idea of self discovery and personal growth. Of learning how to overcome your past, your anxieties and fears, your distrust in the world and the people that inhabit it, to find confidence, pride, and love from within as well as without. Although at the start I will focus on the 'Facility' in the first Arc I intend it to be mostly for establishing the origins and groundwork for my interpretation of the character although that is still important I am very keen on and exited for developing what comes afterwards, exploring a world that is fresh and new but dangerous, forming friendships, and findings one's chosen family. Ideally I would like Laura to enter a master-apprentice type relationship with Wolverine, which would progress into a more father-daughter one down the line.

The tone I wish to convey is a serious and mature one, however I don't want it to be grim, dark, or edgy I would ideally have it more hopeful and optimistic, perhaps even uplifting. Some of the subject matter does not lend itself well to light-heartedness of jokes but I hope that I can strike some balance while keeping a respectful approach to what is happening.

There should be plenty of opportunity for interaction and crossover with different characters at different points of the initial arcs that I have planned out, as for example while with the 'Facility' there could be a lot of potential with the more secret organisation and agencies side of things. There could also be various contexts where Laura has been sent on a mission by the 'Facility' for different reasons, for example proving that she can complete an objective with various potential interferences.

Arc 1

The 'Facility' has begun field testing their latest project 'X-23', they are confident that they will get the results that they have been looking for and are starting to reach out to government and private organisation who might be interested in purchasing their 'weapon'. Meanwhile Dr Martin Poirier has been developing his own weapons and intends to put them in competition with the 'Facility'. Internally the 'Facility' looks like it is a well oiled machine, an apt analogy for this heartless institution, however under the surface jealousy and resentment boils as well as regret and shame...

Arc 2

Laura finds herself cold and alone with only a vague direction to guide her and imaginary scenes of a distant place that she has never been to. Through instincts alone she must survive as she puts an end to the last remnants of the 'Facility'. Then perhaps she can begin to live...

Arc 3

Laura experiences a frightful encounter with a Wendigo. Saved by the superhero team Alpha Flight, Laura must learn how to operate within a team if she is to overcome this monstrous foe. But can she bring herself to trust these strangers?

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

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Arc 1 Characters

The Facility:
Adam Harkins - The Overseer of the Facility. A man who will stop at nothing to achieve his aims, which seems to involve the creation of 'weapons' that he can eventually sell to the highest bidders. Established the Facility in a secret location in Nunavut, Canada.

Martin Poirier - The Co-Founder of the Facility. In recent years has broken away founding his own project in competition with the Facility in a secret location in Greenland.

Sarah Kinney - The woman who is responsible for the successful cloning of Wolverine. Over the years she has developed as close a relationship as she can with X-23 without arising the suspicion of The Overseer.

Desmond Alexander - Developer of the 'Trigger Scent' originally was Sarah Kinney's partner at the Facility before breaking away from the organisation following Martin Poirier.

Dr Henry Sutter - Son of Dr Martin Sutter, former leader of the Facility before his untimely death orchestrated by Adam Harkins. He and his family are held hostage and forced to continue their work.

Dr Zander Rice - A doctor working at the Facility who believes that he should be the one in charge. Seeks to overthrow both Adam Harkins and Martin Porier.

Kimura - An agent of the Facility who could be described as the handler or warden of the 'weapons' that have been created. She has the powers of limited density manipulation allowing her to strengthen or phase individual body parts. She has a cruel nature.

Predator X - The 'weapon' that has been created by Martin Poirier at his offshoot Facility.

Gabriel - A martial artist who is partly responsible for the training of X-23. Loyal to the Facility, however has grown sympathetic towards X-23 over time.

Dr Andrew Jones - A scientist working at the Facility, works mainly alongside Sarah Kinney.

Arc 2 Characters

T.B.D

Arc 3 Characters

T.B.D

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Sample Post

The snow crunched softly beneath her boots as she moved swiftly through the trees. Among the silence the occasional bird or critter could be heard squeaking or chirping. Their presence brought a slight smile to X-23's face. But what she was focused on was the scent of her target, the agents of the 'Facility' had exposed her to it back at the drop site and she had been honing in on it ever since. It had been over an hour now since she had started running, what little information the 'Facility' had been too vague to pinpoint the exact location of this outpost and so the drop site had been little more than a guess. Despite this X-23 bore the responsibility for the success of this mission, as always. If she had to spend the entire night running then that is what she had to do.

It always took her some time to adjust properly to these temperatures. There was no risk to her from prolonged exposure to the freezing cold, her healing factor ensured that there was no possibility of frostbite or hypothermia. The 'Facilities' tests had confirmed that for certain. That didn't make the stinging cold any less painful, nor the bite of the wind cut any shallower. Her body would always be healing itself, returning to it's optimal state, that did not help with coping with the sensations experiences while doing so.

X-23 had been keeping a steady pace, the scent grew stronger and stronger over time. She noticed that the target must be moving, however it was doing so rather slowly and so she had been steadily closing the gap between them. Close. Close now. she thought. Not alone. X-23 had noticed as she drew closer that she could start to pick up on other scents. Two others or so it seemed. There was a strong stench of cigarettes and alcohol but also something else. Hunting? It smelt like a rifle that had been fired. That smell of cordite in the air.

As the scents reached a certain intensity X-23 found herself instinctively slowing down, so as to minimise the noise that she was making. It was good that she had because not long after there was, in the distance, three lances of light cutting through the trees. Her eyes watered as they adjusted to them, she focused her vision until she could see ahead on that distant view lay a path and on it walked three men, layered appropriately for the weather and well armed. Each of them in one of their hands held a flashlight. Even at this distance X-23 could pick up little details like the exhales of breath turning into a fine cloud of mist, or the limping of the man at the back of the trio. The same man to whom the scent she had been following could be traced to. Her ears pricked up as she heard them speak.

"Let's be quick about this. Don't want to spend any longer out here than need be. 'specially on a night like this." The limping guard spoke.

"Dreadful, just dreadful." Another of them agreed.

"Target found." X-23 whispered. The guards continued walking, they had heard nothing that would draw their attention.

"Prepare to engage target. Strike when ready X-23." A male voice spoke from her earpiece delivering her orders.

X-23 lowered her body down into a crouch before starting to slowly creep step by step closer to the treeline, all the while shadowing the guards as they made their way along the path. The three of them were completely oblivious, even at this now short distance between them. She felt her muscles tense, she was ready to dart behind a tree at a moments notice. Limping one first. Then... She took a closer look at the other two guards. One she could make out a rifle slung over the shoulder attached to a strap, the other had no weapon that she could make out at least not visible, but they were carrying a pair of hares. Limping first. Rifle second. Hares third. X-23 had decided on the order which she would kill these three men.

She would try her best to make this as quick as possible for them. X-23 clenched her hands into fists just before her twin pairs of adamantium claws popped out from between her knuckles with an all familiar SNIKT.

Limp turned his head "What wa-" he twisted his body to face the treeline as he spoke out in surprise. But his exclamation was cut short. X-23 had leapt forward from the treeline and with her claws cut the throat of Limp. His hand darted up to the wound as he fell onto his back, he began choking.

Limp down.

The second guard tried to ready his rifle to fire, his efforts were wasted as when he attempted to aim his chest had already been pierced by X-23, her claws cut right through his body impaling him. He feel limply to the ground as they were pulled out.

Rifle had dropped his torch at the sight of what had just occurred, in a panic he tried to take hold of his gun and aim at their assailant. He didn't have the time to do that. Before he could get the rifle in both hands the claws had already ran right through his chest, X-23 pushed him off his body being sent into the trees on the other side of the path.

Rifle down.

CLICK. BOOM.

X-23 felt the bullet rip through her shoulder. "RAAAAGH." she yelled out in pain as it burned through her. She practically growled as she snapped her head around to face Hare, the guard she had determined was unarmed.

CLICK. BOOM.

Perhaps he thought the first shot would have incapacitated her but seeing that it hadn't Hare fired for a second time. With a swing of her claws X-23 parried the bullet as it spun towards her. Hare's eyes widened as he saw that the wound in her shoulder had already healed.

"It's you." He said.

X-23 rushed forward and with a slice severed the gun wielding hand from the arm of Hare. The guard began to scream, it made her hesitate slightly. To end it she sliced open his stomach.

Hare down. She concluded.

"Strike complete. Target dead." X-23 whispered.

"Retrieve that card from the targets body X-23." The voice delivered the next order curtly, without emotion and without comment.

Approaching the body of the target, which she had named Limp, the smells of battle were already starting to fester around the area. Blood and death, this stench had always disquieted her but there was something else. It was like a switch had been flipped, she was alert and ready. Ready for another battle. No. X-23 knelt down next to the body and began to search after retracting her claws. In several pockets she found either nothing or at least nothing that resembled any kind of card. Eventually she found it. The security card. On it was the face and name of the man, as well as a few other details mostly consisting of different strings of numbers. This would give the 'Facility' access to the outpost where these men had worked, where this path led to.

"Retrieved the card." She waited in silence for a response.

"Leave the bodies as they are. We shall handle the situation once you have located and cleared the outpost X-23. Proceed." The voice eventually broke the silence.

X-23 nodded to herself, a self-confirmation that she understood the orders conveyed. The last time she had expressed it vocally she had been chided for it. She could remember what had been said, whether she could comprehend it or not was irrelevant. Just get the job done.

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

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-
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[Silverstein]

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

KLARION THE WITCH BOY

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^{_{♦ KLARION BLEAK♦ SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS ♦ THE WITCH BOY♦ HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT ♦}}

^{"Darn It, You're no fun"}

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

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A powerful occultist, A scoundrel, and a brat. This is my redesigning of the witch boy's lore.

Klarion the witch boy was born from another dimension known as limbo town. A magical place beneath the earth where everyone is able to do sorcery, necromancy, and other form of ancient and dark magics.

Klarion along with his familiar Teekl escapes from Limbo town and makes his way through the outside world.

He now lives a normal(?) teenage life and resides in Salem, Massachusetts. Being infamous for its history of witchhunt and the epicenter of most things paranormal, Klarion learns that there's more to this city than meets the eye. Turns out, This rural suburban town is inhabited by secret society cultists, things that go bump in the night, and foreign entities beyond human comprehension.

Hijinks ensue as Klarion tries to balance his life; butting heads with eldritch horrors, paranormal creatures, and Salem's cultist, while trying to hide his true identity as a descendant of witch people. To do so, Klarion guise himself as a human student - A teenager with a coming of age story while dealing with heroes and villains alike, Sound like an 80's sitcom innit? now if only Teekl can talk and crack some jokes.

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:

---

I really like supernatural characters, characters that use magic and the sorts. I grew fond of the DC's magic system and was quite fascinated by it. Constantine was my introduction and gateway magic-user for DC but Klarion grew on me over the time.

I tend to play the witch boy as a playful sadistic trickster rather than a pure chaotic evil character, ditching the whole Chaos lord shindig while keeping his dorky and bratty personality and putting him in a slice of life/dark fantasy setting, going back to his origin and his rivalry with the demon Etrigan.

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

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Teekl - Klarion's familiar and his source of power. Being born in Limbo town, it is required for its denizens to have their very own familiar. And for Klarion, a marmalade cat is the perfect match for him.

Etrigan/Jason Blood - Serving as his overseer and his archnemesis, this rhyming demon keeps his tab on the witch boy's new life from time to time, Giving him a frequently good spanking when Klarion goes out misbehaving.

Limbo Patrol - The witch people are ruthless. Nobody escapes their realm and lives to tell a tale about it. They send their Twin enforcers along with their earworm familiar on earth to track down Klarion and bring him back to their world for some good old' witch-burning trial. These twins are emotionless and ruthless and very adept in dark magic. Luckily for Klarion, his hunters aren't the sharpest tools in the shed.

S.H.A.D.E - is a top-secret U.S government organization. Their acronym stands for Super-Human Advanced Defense Executive. They attempt to neutralize metahuman disasters before they can become a threat to the American people.

Ned Amish - Klarion's self-proclaimed "friend" in Salem - Seriously, who is this again?

The church of Salem - something about this place seems eerie.

W.A.N.D - a branch of the S.H.I.E.L.D that deals with supernatural threats.

A R C S:

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Grundy's monday night stroll

It was a foggy night, The leylines of the earth were at their peak, and one wicken boy had a mischievous scheme to amuse himself. Klarion cast a spell that unleashes a horde of zombies in new york city, replicas of Solomon Grundy terrorizing the big apple.

It was over before it even began as a bunch of mystic heroes joined forces to stop this infestation overnight; They put on an illusion spell serving as a veiled to conceal this event, Preventing the news of this uncanny threat to spread across the rest of the world.

Now the hunt is on for the one responsible for this whole fiasco. Agencies that deals with the supernatural such as the S.H.A.D.E. are now narrowing the suspects down to the metahumans/mutants who can use necromancy and magic. None was the wiser to figure out that this was the doing of the boy from limbo town making his debut to the surface world - But of course, that's what Klarion thought....

WITCH: HUNTED

No action goes unpunished. After that miniature zombie-apocalypse prank the witch boy just pulled overnight; Klarion is being tracked down and being hunted by multiple heroes, villains, and basically, almost everyone that has a grudge against him(which is A LOT). He goes into hiding in Salem, the last place on earth his enemies would look for due to its infamous history of persecuting witches.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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WITCH:HUNTED, Jason's POV

Somewhere in Washington...

"You think she's ready to talk?" Frankenstein crosses his massive arms while looking at the two-way glass seeing a grieving lady being interrogated by the agency.

"She will testify.." Jason answered with certainty, looking at the same mirror as well.

"Of course, It would be easier to just delve into her mind and get this over with.. but seeing the fragile condition she's in, it's best not to break her sanity. We'll just have to do the old fashion way of questioning." Jason Blood added.

"Err.. Just lemme do the query while you wait right here." He continued, leering at the large living sci-fi brute beside him from head to toe.

"What are you implying, Half-demon? I know I have my charm and i have to admit it can get a bit distracting. but Eh, what can I say? I'm a sexy pound of man-flesh all roll into one, and chicks dig the stitches but I have my ways of getting one's information.." Franky boosted, flexing his undead muscles.

"Exactly, you're a reanimated pound of flesh. The last thing the poor girl needs is another traumatic experience aside from nearly becoming a human sacrifice." Jason rubs his temple displaying his dismay that he has to work with this brute. So this is S.H.A.D.E's top agent huh?

"Please stay right here.." Jason enters the room and started questioning the witness.

---

"I know this is a lot to take in Ms. Sully given your case of being one of the survivors of the cultist's abduction. but please try to make your case cohesive. It would really help a lot." Jason asked the timid young lady across the table. She seems distraught and frightened of her horrific ordeal back in Salem.

"These cultists must be stopped. We've been tracking them for ages, It's a miracle we've got a witness who survives and lives to tell about it. Rest assured that you're safe now and are under our protection." Jason Blood added while holding the victim's hand to show his empathy.

"So, if you would please tell your experience." Jason leans back in his chair. The demonologist from Gotham seems interested in this particular case.

"I-i- wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for the mysterious boy who save me" The witness started speaking and fumble with her words. " I don't think 'save' is the right word, but he did free the other prisoners and killed our captors in ways I don't even think it is possible.." She explained.

"I know it sounds crazy but I'm pretty sure it's magic.."

"Please elaborate, and can you describe what this boy looks at?" Jason raised a brow.

"Well, He's slender, has a long face, has pointy hair sticking out making look like horns, has an annoying laugh.. and oh he owns a weird-looking orange cat."

"Interesting, continue.." Jason has now a clear vision of what the victim's so-called 'savior' looks like. Someone he knows too well.

"He just appeared from out of nowhere and started muttering about something, The next thing you know, The cultist started attacking and murdering each other.. like they're in a state of trans..all of them dead.. eviscerate by their own kind.."

"Then he confront the leader of the cult and demanded something.. some sort of book of their god. When the leader can't supply the boy's demand, The kid threw a temper tantrum and make spiders bleed out of his mouth and ears...It was so horrific but he was just there... laughing like it was a joke"

"I was so scared.. I-t.." The woman breaks down in tears and can't continue to express herself anymore.

"There, There.. Ms. Sully, I appreciate the courage you displayed today.. you're safe now"

Klarion, you scamp.. so that's where you're hiding, in Salem.. and getting yourself tangled with the cult of the old gods. Just what are you up to?

POST CATALOG:

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The boy who sought chaos

The happiest place on earth- The Fairy king desends

[AndyC]

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

^{_{Rachel Roth / Princess Koriand’r “Kori Anders” ♦ High School Students / Fast Food Employees ♦ Jump City, California, USA ♦ Unaffiliated}}

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

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^{"When there’s trouble, you know who to call…"}

^{”GHOST BUSTERS!”}

^{”No, Kori, we worked on this, you call--….whatever….”}

^{”My apologies. Correction: you call the WHAT EVER!”}

Rachel Roth and Princess Koriand’r are about as different as can be. One is an eternal optimist, the other is a perennial pessimist. One is cheerful, friendly, and outgoing, the other is gloomy, sarcastic and withdrawn. One is the exiled princess of the planet Tamaran in the Vega star system, the other is the half-human daughter of the demon lord Trigon destined to lay waste to all worlds. One would think these two would never find enough common ground to become friends, let alone best friends, but stranger and more ridiculous things tend to happen when they are around.

Ever since Kori’s escape pod crash-landed on Earth a year ago—and by a staggering coincidence, landing right on top of a group of cultists who were attempting to abduct Rachel for their own nefarious purposes—the two have found their lives inextricably tangled. Be it demon-worshipping cults who want to sacrifice them, shady government or corporate organizations who want to brainwash them, mad scientists who want to dissect them, alien warlords who want to enslave them, super-villains who want to annihilate them, or an endless parade of jerks and perverts who just want to screw them, Rachel and Kori—operating publicly under the aliases Raven and Starfire –can’t seem to stay out of trouble. In the precious little downtime they have between dealing with all the various crises in Jump City, Kori has agreed to help Rachel unravel the mysteries of her past and master her newfound powers, while Rachel has agreed to help Kori find a way back to her home planet to liberate it from her treacherous sister Blackfire, all while attempting to achieve some semblance of a normal life in the margins.

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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I am a huge fan of both of these characters, at least in their incarnations from the one cartoon that everyone actually likes, but I haven't really been a fan of any other iteration of them. DC seems to have no idea how to handle what, in my opinion, should be an easy home-run by keeping them as an odd-couple/buddy-cop duo. And while yes, I am a dirty old man with all the class and sophistication of an episode of the Benny Hill Show, I want to do more with these two than just lean on the "tee-hee, boobies" humor that I did last time I wrote them. I think I can tell some pretty entertaining character-driven stories with these two, especially since having the cosmic and occult sides of both the Marvel and DC universes gives me a lot to play with.

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

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Supporting Characters

The Williams Family: Rachel's current foster family, who are supportive, caring, and wholesome to the point where it's almost nauseating. Alice and Jack Williams have taken in several foster kids over the years, and were all too happy to take in a troubled teen and make a difference in her life. Though they really do wish she'd outgrow all this demonic nonsense and join them on Sundays at the First Brotherhood Church.

Chief Stella Gomez: The no-nonsense chief of the Jump City Police Department, Stella more often than not finds herself cleaning up the mess left behind by the various crises that befall her city. She doesn't have a particularly high opinion of costumed vigilantes and so-called superheroes as it is, let alone a pair of superpowered teenagers who barely know what they're doing.

Kitten Van Cleer: The pampered princess of Jump City High, and queen mean-girl who takes delight in making life miserable for rejects and weirdos like Rachel and Kori. Her father, the millionaire philanthropist Cameron van Cleer (real name Drury Walker), secretly makes his fortunes as the minor super-villain Killer Moth.

Silkie: Kori's pet mutated caterpillar...thing, liberated from Killer Moth. It is both adorable and revolting at the same time, and usually has to be hidden from the general public.

Villains

Blackfire: Kori's older sister, Komand'r, the despotic Empress of Tamaran. Always jealous of the love and attention her sister received from their parents, Komand'r betrayed the royal family and sold their world out to the militaristic Shi'ar Empire, in exchange for being made planetary governor. Knowing that Kori is still out there, however, has made Blackfire paranoid, and she has dispatched agents to have her sister destroyed once and for all.

Brother Blood: The leader of a vast and powerful cult with members all over the world, Brother Blood claims to be the high priest of the demon lord Trigon, and has promised his followers incredible wealth and power in the world to come. He is obsessed with capturing Raven and bringing her into the fold, the 'Daughter of Darkness' that will bring about Trigon's reign on Earth. As if his enormous wealth and army of fanatics weren't bad enough, he is also a vampire, with all of the powers and abilities that come with it.

Psimon: A high-ranking member of the shadowy organization HIVE, Psimon is a powerful telepath who has been tasked with capturing Raven and Starfire and 're-educating' them.

Jinx: Psimon's right-hand operative, Jinx is a devious, mischievous, and slightly sadistic probability-bender who delights in causing others misfortune. She also has something of a one-way personal grudge against Raven, since as far as she sees it, the HIVE only needs one 'witch girl' in their ranks.

Mammoth: HIVE's heavy-hitter, usually paired with Jinx as a brains-and-brawn duo. He's as solid as a mountain...and about as smart as one.

Killer Moth: Millionaire philanthropist Cameron van Cleen by day, terrifying mutated super-criminal Killer Moth by night. Despite the name, Killer Moth is more interested in acts of robbery than actual killing, but he has no problem endangering lives to get his way. He dotes on his vicious brat of a daughter Kitten constantly, and has a deep-seeded vendetta against Starfire for embarrassing Kitten at last year's prom.

The Mad Mod: A disgraced fashion mogul inexplicably turned super-criminal after stumbling onto a cache of weapons and gadgets intended for the HIVE organization, Neil Richards has set out to punish the people of Jump City for "crimes against fashion." He is more of an annoyance than any sort of actual threat, but he tends to make quite a scene whenever he appears.

Doctor Light: The worst of Jump City's supervillains, if only for his personality. While Arthur Light is an extremely dangerous foe with a long list of photo-kinetic abilities ranging from lasers to invisibility, he is most infamous for being a lecherous pervert that even the other villains want nothing to do with.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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"Sooo....on the Number Four, the Big Belly Double-Triple Cheeseburger....does that come with cheese?"

".....it's a cheeseburger."

".....so no?"

The withering glare that Rachel Roth gave the fat balding man on the other side of the counter could have curdled milk, but its effects were completely lost on him, as he scratched underneath the folds of his substantial gut that drooped out from the bottom of his shirt.

"Oh, right, right," he nodded with what must have been a painfully rare moment of clarity. "So, what kind of cheeses do you have?"

"Calling it 'cheese' would be generous," Rachel began, "But according to the packaging at least, we have American, Swiss, cheddar, and 'fiesta.'"

The fat man nodded absently, before declaring "I'll take mine with Pepper Jack."

Once again, the pale, purple-haired girl fixed him with a glare that could strip the paint off a car, then reiterated, "We have American, Swiss, ch--"

"Friend Rachel!" Kori exclaimed as she practically erupted from the break room, a soda cup filled to the brim with mustard in her hand and a bright yellow smudge on her lips, "I have the most glorious of news! I believe I now have the solution for our financial worries!"

Rachel raised an eyebrow, turning to her friend and ignoring the fat guy at the counter, and the twenty other people in line behind him. "You've discovered the secret to overthrowing the stranglehold of the corrupt and exploitative ruling class in order to bring about a worker's paradise?"

"No, but I have learned of an exciting business opportunity!" she beamed. "During my allotted fifteen-minute breaking of the room of baths, I was speaking to our co-worker Trevor..."

"The one who keeps trying to take pictures of your butt when he thinks you're not looking?"

"Yes, the same!" Kori nodded enthusiastically, her cup of mustard sloshing over. "He suggested that we engage in the starting of a small business, and said that we could make the fortunes! According to the Trevor, we would be perfect for selling ventilation equipment!"

"...ventilation equipment?"

"Uhhh, excuse me," the fat man at the counter muttered, "I'd still like to order a--"

"One second," Rachel dismissed him before turning back to Kori. "Trevor thinks we should sell ventilation equipment?"

"Oh yes, he was very enthusiastic about it! He said we should sell exclusively ventilation equipment!"

Rachel's expression soured. "...'exclusively ventilation equipment?' What did he say, exactly?"

"His words with exactness were 'you two could make tons doing Only Fans!'"

"Of course," Rachel gave a deflated sigh. "First off, no, we are absolutely not doing that. Second of all, that has nothing to do with air conditioning."

"Then I have the confusion," Kori puzzled. "If 'only fans' does not mean selling equipment for conditioning of the air, then what is it?"

"It's...." Rachel stopped herself, looked back to the line of people, then back at her expectant friend, "it's...just come here, it's--"

Rachel whispered the answer into Kori's ear, and the orange-skinned girl went pale with shock.

"....oh," she managed, before her expression brightened. "Oh, that is even easier than selling ventilation equipment! We--"

"Absolutely not."

"Hey, can I please--"

"Number four with Pepper Jack that this restaurant chain has never carried, got it," she turned back to the register. "Will that be for here or to go?"

The fat man sputtered indignantly for a moment, and then with a thunderous crash, the ceiling collapsed.

The dining room of the Big Belly Burger filled with dust and rubble as people screamed and ran for cover, trying to scramble under tables or hide in the bathroom.

"Oh, thank God," Rachel muttered to herself, as the sudden violent burst of destruction at least broke up the mind-numbing tedium of her part-time job. When Sartre said 'hell is other people,' he must have been thinking of the fast food industry.

A tall, imposing figure floated down from the makeshift hole in the ceiling. A powerhouse with rippling muscles, purple skin, gleaming orange eyes, and a foot-tall, neatly-cropped mohawk.

"At long last, I have found your hiding place, Princess Koriand'r," the figure boomed. "I am Kallark, warrior of the Shi'ar Empire and supreme leader of the Imperial Guard. As per the bargain made between the Majestrix and Komand'r of Tamaran, you are to return with me to the Empire, to be my concubine. I offer you a choice: come peacefully, or watch the people of this world suffer."

Kori's sunny expression hardened as she wiped the mustard away from her lips, and engulfed her body in a flash of bright green light. In an instant, her tacky Big Belly Burger uniform was gone, replaced with the violet and silver dress of the Tamaranian royal family.

"I am not your property to take, Kallark," Princess Koriand'r challenged as she rose in the air to level with him, "And the people of this world are not the property of your empire. I offer you a choice: leave peacefully now, or be destroyed."

Kallark smirked at the Princess's challenge. "You have spirit, girl, but in time you will learn that--....you, pale one, what are you doing?"

Rachel stood at the counter register, pressing buttons.

"Clocking us out," she explained, before the air grew cold and shadows swirled around her. "The manager said we can't kick your ass on company time...."

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

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COMING SOON