[CHAR] All-Star Marvel: Audax Mundus Novus - Season 1 (Completed)

[Dedonus]

Roster:

ACCEPTED CHARACTERS ONLY

* = player has been inactive and anyone may apply for that character (do not have to keep ex-player's character sheet.)

Heroes:
• 3D Man - Derek Chandler The Kid Lantern
• Angel - Warren Worthington III The Kid Lantern
• Ant-Man - Henry Pym, Jr. Gowi
• Captain America - Sam Wilson Sep
• Captain America - Steve Rodgers Facepunch
• Hawkeye - Clint Barton Dedonus
• Human Torch - Johnny Storm CallMeChaotix
• The Invisible Woman - Sue Storm Angel Vicky
• Iron Man - Anthony Stark DrewVonAwesome
• Karnak - Karnak Eru Iluvatar *
• Loki - Loki Laufeyson Bright Ops
• Marvel Girl - Jean Grey Angel Vicky
• Mr. Fantastic - Reed Richards DrewVonAwesome
• Ms. Marvel - Carol Susan Jane Danvers Dedonus
• Miss America - America Chavez Natty
• North Star - Louis Martin The Kid Lantern
• Quicksilver - Pietro Maximoff DrewVonAwesome
• Spider-Man - Peter Benjamin Parker Dedonus
• Thor - Thor Odinson DrewVonAwesome
• Valkyrie - Victoria Parrington Angel Vicky

Walking the Line:
• Hulk - Bruce Banner Sep
• Scarlet Witch - Wanda Maximoff Eru Iluvatar *
• Sthor - Tarene Spud
• Wolverine - James Howlett Facepunch

Villains:
• Boomerang - Frederick Myers Natty
• Doctor Doom - Victor Von Doom TimeMasterX
• Hyperion - Zhib-Ran Facepunch
• The Purple Man - Zebediah Killgrave Eru Iluvatar *

[The New Yorker]

Player Name: The New Yorker Character Name: Remy LeBeau Moral Alignment: Walking the Line Affiliation: The Thieves Guild, CIA, NSA Character Origin & Backstory: Remy’s mother worked in a restaurant in Back of Town, New Orleans as a waitress. She had her ass slapped more times than she could remember, but that Cajun kid with the darling eyes was the only one she never slapped back. They got married, had a little red-eyed child, and everything went downhill from there. That Cajun kid with the darling eyes couldn’t stand that he was a big nothing in the middle of nowhere, ball and chained in the swamps as a mechanist. He drank, and he smoked, and he got high; then he’d slap that little waitress everywhere but her ass. The kid (Remy) got to sleep on the porch under the awning if it was raining and his mother would make sure he got food every once in a while even. But that damn kid was so rowdy as a toddler that his papa had taken to chaining him up to the front porch. If his dad wanted to come out and have a beer or something, Remy would have to get off the patio or risk getting a licking. At night, when his papa was done screaming, and hitting, and drinking, and he’d fallen asleep, Remy would sneak out of his chains and collar. He used the paper from his papa’s matchbook, which he molded into a fine picking device, to open all the locks that were thought to keep him chained. He’d run off into the vibrant New Orleans streets and just bask in it all: the people, the lights, and the smells. The puffed, pungent smells of gumbo wafting from street-side diners mingled in Remy’s nose with the sweet, buttery smell of fried choux paste. He’d sit at a bench, where he met several other children, all seemingly street urchins, and watch them perform tricks. The group of children were like a traveling band of street performers, yet not an adult among them. Remy met them every so often, he learned tricks and skills which he’d commit to memory. None of the children made fun of him, the way everyone at home did. They didn’t seem to mind that his eyes were different, they didn’t seem to instantly despise him. Then, after the children had played, and some had earned a little bit of money, they’d separate. Remy would shuffle back from the city and walk the dark, dusty road to his country house. He’d quietly put the chains back on and sleep on the cushioned mat his mother had made for him. Then he’d dream, the kinds of dreams where it was only him and his mom. The kinds where he got to sleep inside and talk to people without getting hit. He knew that this dream would come true, he’d just need to be strong for his momma, she’d come through. Remy’s mother ran off when he was 8, left him shivering on the porch with the looming shadow grasping at her heels with every step. It didn’t take Remy long after that to realize that the next time he snuck out, he wouldn’t be coming back. Remy joined the gang of street urchins instantly, feeling finally free. He learned that the group was actually led by someone older, a teenage acolyte of the Thieves Guild. The gang was a way to breed new promising members, Remy was instantly recognized as an impressive force. One day, at the ripe age of 12, Remy was following a mark, a juicy one at that. He snagged the man’s billfold while the man was picking up a paper, then slid into an alley way. He counted the bills under the florescent lamp light, but was stunned to find a note, stuck in the middle of it. Two red eyes drawn in the center of the piece of paper floated above the words, “Come Meet Mr. LeBeau”. Remy had no idea how important that name would become to him. The invitation was to meet the leader of the Thieves Guild, who had been awaiting the prophesized diable blanc to show his face, or his eyes in Remy’s case. The prophesy foretold of a young thief with red eyes and pale skin who would reunite the two warring guilds, that of the Thieves and the Assassins. So Remy agreed. Soon he began showing signs of mutant abilities, which pleased Jean-Luc LeBeau greatly. He adopted the boy and taught him all of his tricks, the tricks of a master thief. Remy grasped the ideologies of the guild very easily, it was easy to accept a family when he’d never truly had one. He even agreed to the arranged marriage between himself and Bella Donna Boudreaux, the granddaughter of the head of the Guild of Assassins; not as if he would have any reason to deny the southern beauty. The wedding day, in order to completely understate it, was destroyed by the intervention of Bella’s brother Julien. He challenged Remy to a duel, saying that he would not have some glorified sewer rat marrying his sister. Remy, in self-defense and through pure ignorance, obliterated Julien. The Assassin’s attacked first, of that Remy is sure. Everything after was a bit blurry. When Remy awoke on the crimson painted rooftop the wedding was taking place on, he was horrified. He was covered in blood, as was everyone and everything else around. A bloodbath had occurred and there were very few survivors. Remy was lucky enough to limp away with several broken bones and a very bad bullet wound. It wasn’t long until Remy was out of the south, he traveled to New York in search of some work. In search of a life away from the sweet scented swamps which brought only bad memories. He was quick to find Fence, a half robotic man who dealt in stolen goods. Remy was a talented 19 year old as far as Fence could see, so he put him to work. Remy was hitting museums and laboratories in no time. The Guild had him stealing jewels and paintings, Fence had him hunting blueprints and scientific do-dads. Soon Remy got word that the CIA was on his trail, and the NSA, too. Knowing that hiding was more of a death sentence than the alternative, Remy gave himself up to the agency. They knew all about le diable blanc, had a fat ass stack of files and everything. They asked him to cooperate with them, help them help him. Nothing made Remy more uncomfortable than working with the government, but what could he do? They had information on his life on the streets, his life in the Guild, and his involvement in the massacre. They could pin the whole thing on him if they wanted, him being a mutant. So he played along. He got them plans, and planted bugs and did some field work for the NSA every once in a while. He interrogated some prisoners, planted a couple of bombs, and dealt with a little insurrection. No biggie. They kept him fed, housed, hidden, and happy. Besides, it allowed him access to some high priority places, which made Fence pretty happy. Though not too happy, since Fence was furious that Remy was in so deep with the government. That was a big no-no for thieves. Remy didn’t mind until he got the word of his next assignment. He was to join up with a top secret team, created with people just like him. The assignment was concerning insurrection, terrorists. It outlined plans for attacks on whole communities of mutants. Once he heard about that he called Fence immediately, they’d need a plan to make Remy disappear. Powers and Abilities: - Psychokinetic manipulation of energy. Remy is capable of changing items on a molecular level, invigorating the cells of any non-living organism to an instable level. This generally leads to an explosion, proportionate to the size of the object and its level of instability. Currently his powers are reliant upon Remy touching things. Remy isn’t quite sure what the limits of his powers are concerning size, so he’ll have to keep practicing. - Heightened athletic skill. Remy has learned how to effect his own kinetic energy. Making him faster, more balanced, and all around more confident in his movements. - Psychokinetic mental barrier. Remy possess an amazing gift which he has no control over and hardly understands. His mind is mostly untouchable to telepaths. - Charm. Remy has an irresistible charm. It’s origins are a mixture of his time as a thief, a secret agent, and an inherent likability. It is yet unclear whether his powers have anything to do with it. - Master Thief… Weaknesses: -Paranoid: Remy’s time with the government, and his subsequent departure, have etched a foul distrust in him. -Embarrassment/Sullied reputation: Remy ran after most of the Theives and Assassins guild had killed each other. That in itself is enough to damn his name in some parts of the south. Working for the government as a weapon was only icing on the cake. Easily distracted: If Remy needs to stay focused, he can. Especially when there are NATO rounds flying over his head. However, when things are a little lighter, Remy can get confident, and that confidence manifests itself most readily as flirtation or comedy. It hasn’t bitten him in the ass yet, but he still has a long way to go. Sample Story Archs: -The fugitive: Remy works with Fence in order to get the CIA off of his back. He must infiltrate Trask industries to sabotage prototype mutant killers (sentinels), and find info on the CIA by accessing the Trask industries mainframe. -The Marauders: Having only stalled Trask’s eventual goal of building his Sentinels Remy decides he must intervene in a secret attack on the Mutants of the New York city sewers, the Morlocks. Here he meets members of the X-Men. -Thief No More: Remy joins the X-Men in order to put a stop to the draconian Magneto and his Brotherhood. A Thieves End: If we make it this far, Remy will leave the X-Men after a tragic loss and try his hand at Thieving again. Perhaps, for the very last time.

Sample Post

September 5th, 2012 9:31 PM Remy’s boots squeaked against the polished ivory floor as he darted down the plain white hallway. As he rounded a corner out of the hallway, a platoon of guards rounded a corner on the other end into the hallway. They shot at him for a few moments before he was out of sight, and then followed after him. The Cajun’s blood was warm as he felt the thrill of the chase once again. Sure, the idea of being a thief is that you shouldn’t even be seen, but the blood boiling excitement of being chased was something Remy could never get over. It would be absurd to assume that Remy had let the guards see him, because an assumption of that caliber would also assume that Remy was unprofessional. Of course, that wasn’t true, because Remy was, indeed, a staunch professional. He giggled as he sped down the hallway, briefcase filled with precious information hoisted over his shoulder. He was nearing a reception area and an eventual exit. He rounded the corner and spotted a quiet brunette, shell shocked, with a phone pressed to her ear. Remy slowed his sprint into a run then a jog, and eventually a steady, easy walk. The cool Cajun rested his arms up on the reception desk and let himself breathe for a moment. He took the phone from the Brunettes hand and placed it back on the receiver. “You got a ball” he asked, his drawl dripping onto the desk, melting the young woman. “A… ball?” She looked down in her desk and noticed there was a ripe blue rubber ball, calling to her. She gave it to Remy and smiled. The Cajun charged the ball, allowed his red eyes to wallow in the putrid pink. The girl must have seen all the pain in his heart, all the years of running, and probably how much he’d just been running. She rested her hand on his free one, sighed deeply. This was most certainly the man she’d been waiting for. They’d go on really romantic dates and meet each other’s parents. He would cook her dinner sometimes and she’d give him massages. They’d get married and her mother would stop nagging about her going back to school, because she’d have a husband. Then maybe they’d have children, though they wouldn’t have to. She always wanted to adopt. He’d probably want to adopt, too. Remy threw the ball into the hallway, winked, and dashed off. The ball exploded, dislodging cement structures around her, stunning the young brunette and waking her from her dream. A thick dust cloud rolled in from the mostly destroyed hallway and filled the reception area. The doe-eyed receptionist coughed in confusion as Remy jumped from a window onto a nearby roof. It didn’t take long for Remy to reach the headquarters Fence ran out of his bakery in Brooklyn. He settled up with Fence, handed him the info, and took a seat with a cuppa at his side. “What do you think?” he asked with the cup hanging under his nose. “I don’t think much, Gambit.” Fence responded. His human arm was hairy, the other was a cool blue steel. He had a gruff voice which carried in it decades of coffee, and heartache, and lies. “Well give me something, damnit!” Remy responded with an exasperated yell. “Jesus, calm down, Remy. Drink some of your fucking coffee and give me a second.” Fence said cooly as he continued with his work. “I would be calm if you haven’t been treating me like an asshole for the last two weeks.” “Please not now.” “Well when Fence? I mean… Where the hell were you when I called you?” “Guatemala. No Egypt.” Remy didn’t have to look at all the tiny cables attached to Fence to get the joke. He’d been resting right here, obviously. No more than a month ago Fence was pulled out of a club and beaten half to death by some men in black. They tried wiping his memory core. Luckily Fence was a lot better than them, and Remy. He stayed away from the Devil eyed thief for a few weeks while the heat on him wore off. It isn’t clear if he felt guilty or just obliged, but he contacted Remy a few days ago asking him to retrieve some information. The deal was simple: retrieve some intel and some tech, and Fence would try his best to help get the Cajun out of this mess with the CIA. “I was stuck on top of a 65 story building with combat drones up my ass. I could have used your help.” Remy said, coyly chiding. “Well you seem fine. I was rebuilding what was left of my arm, so I was a little busy myself.” Fence responded without looking from the datapad. Remy nodded, allowed Fence to have this one. The big half metal man flipped through pages of info on a holoscreen he had displayed in front of him. His blue eye made note of every detail, his lips flicking as he tried to remember it all. “Well,” Remy said after calming down, “What it say?” “It say you’ve been blacklisted. It say you a terrorist. And, as always, they called you a slut.” September 5th, 2012 11:58 PM “Here’s the problem, Remy, we’re dealing with the fucking government.” Fence stood on his powering station, a partially raised, circular dais with a bright blue light shining upward. Sprouting from his mechanized hand was a flat hologram which he read from intently. His eye was damaged in the beating he received a month ago on the Cajun’s behalf, he could not use it to project holograms or virtual reality HUD’s. The aforementioned Cajun was laid in a loveseat set between two marble columns. He still wore his sneaking suit and running shoes, his legs were innocently slung over the edge of the loveseat. The joe in his hands had cooled since he got there, and coincidentally, so had he. He took a sip of the brown stuff as his red eyes pierced through the light steam which rose from the cup. “If we were dealing with some kind of a street hustler, sure, easy-peesey. A mob-boss? Easy as the shit I pass off as cake here. But what I can’t do…” “I thought you said there was nothing you can’t do.” Remy interrupted. He looked sly, and vicious, he wanted blood but he wasn’t ready to kill for it. Remy sometimes felt like that, like he was impotent, like he wasn’t a man of integrity. But what does a thief know about integrity? Fence seemed annoyed by the suggestion Remy made, he stepped off the powering station and pointed his human, broken, hand at the devil in the darkness. “That was six years ago, before you started playing footsies with government organizations. And,” he added, continuing where he’d left off, “what I can’t do is hide you from every security agency in the United States, public, private, or, otherwise, deeply, deeply hidden.” Remy’s eyebrows perked up, he was interested in the implications of Fence’s statement. Fence was particular, he was a man of practicality. He never said anything that didn’t need saying, unless he was hyping himself up. “What do you mean? There info in there about secret organizations, looking for me?” Fence calmed and got back to the station. He waved his hands behind him and flipped through the hologram. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “Not explicitly, but yeah.” Fence made a throwing motion with his robotic arm toward the smart board which sat at the opposite end of the basement they were talking in. The walls were exposed stone and the floor was red cracked marble aside from the area around the powering station; that was metal tile. Remy assumed it was because there was some sort of defense mechanism around the station, Fence was paranoid like that. Fence had put a lot of money into this place, Remy was happy that when the spooks came around they couldn’t find this place too. Behind the smart board was a door, one of two. It led to a vault and more things beyond that which Remy wasn’t even entirely sure about. At the opposite end was another door which led to the elevator to the bakery. That end was stocked with tables, and tools, and computers, and weapons, and all sorts of do-dads. The document flicked onto the screen moments later. On the screen was a long document which included lots of codenames, and locations where Remy had been, and security business lingo. Fence circled all the names he brought up on the board from where he stood. “I’ve never heard of the Murauders. Or Project X. They must either be new or top secret. I’ve never had a non-doctored document like this.” Remy made sure to let Fence know he was still worth something, “You’re welcome,” is all he said. “There’s also this Sentinel program, very troubling. It implies, whatever this project is, will be able to track down mutants.” Fence stopped as he read on, things he hadn’t yet differentiated from the lingo and backtalk around it. His organic eye widened as he began to understand it. “They’re saying you were instrumental in making all of this possible.” Fence was a little dumbstruck. He turned to the red-eyed devil sitting in the love seat, cooing over a cup of coffee. “Did you do this, Remy?” The Cajun sipped his coffee again. He felt a sudden chill crawl up his spine and he swallowed the coffee hard. His eyes unfocused and refocused again, and for a moment the Cajun felt like he was falling through the world. “I—I don’t know.” “What do you mean you don’t know? Come on, Remy. I mean, Jesus Christ, don’t you know never to trust the fucking government?!?” He wanted an answer, the metal man stood on the station staring at Remy, every second the Cajun didn’t answer infuriated Fence. “Well!?!” He bellowed. Remy was jolted from a daydream, “I—I didn’t know.” “Well now you know.” Fence stared at the thief, cradled by the cushions, and unraveled what he saw. Remy looked frightened, shocked, betrayed, and embarrassed; Fence could see that. He pursed his lips then exhaled, “I can help you, Remy, I think. It’s not a sure thing, by any means. But it has to be done my way.” Fence was clear, deliberate, forgiving. “My way or the highway.” He punctuated. Remy hadn’t been looking at Fence for a while, he stared at the cracked red floor and descended into a short burst of agony. With Fences last words Remy’s red eyes flicked over to the metal man’s blues. “Yeah,” he accepted weakly, “yeah, you got it, Boss.” Concerning the Daydream: Remy was sent to China in 2008 to retrieve plans, and potentially materials, from a secret base in Karamay. Remy led a team of four. It was supposed to be easy, simple. After the rendezvous, which involved Remy boarding a train via helicopter, the team picked up their weapons in a storage crate outside the city, and headed to the base. They hadn’t killed any guards by the time they reached their destination. All four team-members had powers, similar to Remy. One young man could teleport, which came in handy. Another could read minds and the other possessed technokinesis, like Fence. It was the latter teammate who made this distinction between what the team was told they were to collect, and what they were actually collecting. He hijacked the database while Remy searched the storage bins for the marked materials. Remy found it, a green matte suitcase locked and sealed. He brought it over to a table and opened it, it looked like some sort of polymer. “They sent us out here for some damn plastics?” Remy commented. His hair was longer then, he had it wrapped in a ponytail. Gerald, the young man mentioned earlier, stood from the laptop he worked at and looked at the material. He waved his hands over the case and small lights flicked on inside the opaque material. He smiled as his hands hovered over the box. “There is no metal in them at all, but they’re electronic all right.” Gerald stopped manipulating the material and went back to his laptop. “You shouldn’t have opened that.” He said coyly. “And why’s that?” Remy questioned, he shut the case. “I didn’t see anything, man.” Gerald responded. “Say what’s on your mind, Frtiz.” Gerald hesitated a moment and then turned in his chair, he looked up at the Cajun and frowned. “That’s not what they told us we were getting. This is very serious, very scary shit.” Gerald died on their way out of the base. The two other agents died in a freak fire in the west end no more than a week later. And the Cajun realized now that he was meant to die in that fire as well. Or perhaps the CIA got Gambit out of that room on purpose, to keep him. Either way, remembering that moment made Remy sure that he was a fool, and any work he’d done for the government was pure evil.

[Dedonus]

Player Name: Dedonus
Character You Wish To Play: Peter Benjamin Parker, otherwise known as the Amazing Spider-Man!
Moral Alignment: Hero.
Affiliation: The Amazing Friends
Character Origin & Backstory:
Peter’s life has been a story of repeated tragedies.

Early Life

Peter Benjamin Parker was born to Richard and Mary Parker. All that Peter could remember about his parents was that his father, Richard, was a geneticist and genetic engineer and that his mother, Mary, was a nurse. While Peter was still very young, his parents tragically died in a plane accident. Therefore, the burden fell upon Peter’s aunt and uncle, May and Benjamin Parker, who gave the young Peter all the love that they could. Even when the Parkers struggled to support their nephew financially, they gave the young Peter all the love they had. This was only the first tragedy in Peter’s guilt-ridden life.

Through elementary and middle school, Peter was belittled and bullied since Peter was a book-worm, nerd, and an ‘A’ student. Although his academic studies helped him through this time, thinking that someday he would be all the ‘popular’ kids’ boss, there almost did not seem like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Not until he first met one of his future best friends: Angelica Jones. She and her widowed father, Bartholomew Jones, moved to Queens from Massachusetts after Angelica’s paternal grandmother passed away. Both being lonely and outcasts, Peter and Angelica quickly became friends. Things looked bright for Peter, or at least that how they seemed until Angelica’s microwave powers began to manifest. With the anti-mutant sentiment, Angelica’s father enrolled her at the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning. After a bitter and sad departure, Peter had lost his best friend almost as soon as they became friends.

The Birth of Spider-Man

Then there was the day Peter gained his powers. Peter was attending a demonstration of the latest findings of Doctor Curtis Connors, an expert on cross-species genetics. During the demonstration, one of the genetically altered spiders escaped from its container on that faithful day and bit Peter, infecting him with a virus that caused Peter to develop his abilities. After suffering a miserable night due to his body trying to cope with the virus that had infected Peter, Peter woke up feeling like a new person.

Now with super-human powers, Peter knew what he had to do with them: earn money for his loving aunt and uncle, who had struggled to support him. It was the least he could do. While Peter was successful early on, having created his ‘iconic’ red and blue costume to conceal his identity, Peter’s cash supply was destroyed by a man who would be a pain in Spider-Man’s backside for years to come: J. Jonah Jameson. After Jameson’s crusade against Spider-Man in the Daily Bugle, Peter was distraught. How was he going to be able to help his aunt and uncle now? In his misery, Peter ignored a bugler while Peter heading home from the studio for the last time. While it seemed insignificant at the time, Peter would later regret that decision. Later that week, Peter’s Uncle Ben was killed when a robber broke into their house. When Peter caught the murderer, he was shocked to the core when he discovered that the murderer was the same man whom Peter failed to stop earlier that week. Shaken by the experience, Peter finally learned the lesson that his Uncle Ben had been trying to teach him: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility.

After he got his powers, but prior to his uncle’s death, Peter finally rallied up the courage to ask his dream crush, Gwen Stacy, out on a date. She was his Penelope. The death of Peter’s uncle just brought the two further together. However, as Peter’s career as Spider-Man began, Peter discovered how much damage his alter-ego had started to inflect on their relationship. Therefore, Peter revealed his secret to the love of his life. And this knowledge was the kiss of death for Gwen, although neither of them knew this at the time.

There was yet another bright spot in the sea of darkness that was Peter’s tragedy life. Peter and Angelica crossed paths again and they would never go separate ways again. The X-Men (in civilian garb) were visiting a science museum as a field trip (since the institute was a school, after all) when suddenly the Juggernaut attacked. After Peter helped the X-Men subdue the Juggernaut, both Peter and Angelica discovered the other’s secret identities. From that day forward, Peter, Angelica, and Angelica’s fellow X-Man, Bobby Drake (a.k.a. Iceman) formed the Amazing Friends.

After his first year of fighting petty crocks, Peter thought this super-hero gig would be a piece of cake. Or at least until he began to meet his first super-powered villains. His first ‘super’ was the Chameleon, a super-villain who could change his appearance at will. After his encounters will the Chameleon and some other villains, like the Lizard and Doctor Octopus, Peter realized that he could no longer rely solely on his powers, as he did in his first year of super heroics. He needed to use his intelligence in order to overcome the obstacles in his way.

The War of the Roses

However, Peter’s happiness could not last forever.

Over the last decade, the Kingpin of Crime held an iron grip over the criminal underworld on the East Coast. However, when his wife, Vanessa, grew deathly ill, which prompted the Kingpin to focus on curing his dying wife, the Kingpin of Crime began to loosen his grip over the city as his attention was directed elsewhere. Then, out of nowhere, a crime lord called ‘the Rose’ started to encroach onto the Kingpin’s turf. As a result of the Rose’s challenge to the Kingpin’s hegemony, a power struggle spiraled out of control, all the gangs of New York vied for power, and the NYPD were caught in the middle of it.

One night, when Peter was going to the Stacy residence so that he could take Gwen swinging around the city, Peter heard an explosion from within. After changing in his Spider-Man threads, Peter entered into the Stacy residence and found the mercenary, called Jack O’ Lantern, had kidnapped Gwen Stacy. Believing that someone had discovered his secret identity, which would made Gwen, his girlfriend, vulnerable, Peter chased after Gwen’s captor, following the Halloween-themed villain to the Rose’s base.

However, once at the Rose’s hideout, Peter, undetected by the Rose’s men, discovered that the Rose was going to use Gwen as leverage against Captain Stacy in order to get the NYPD off the Rose’s back. Knowing that his dual-life as Spider-Man was not the cause of Gwen’s kidnapping, Peter rushed to Captain Stacy and updated him on the situation. Once everyone was on the same page, Peter and Captain Stacy drafted a plan to save Gwen.

While the NYPD established a perimeter around the Rose’s headquarters and prepared for a raid on that base of operations, Peter snuck in to free Gwen. Synchronizing with Peter and Gwen’s escape, the police burst into the base, taking the Rose’s men by surprise. However, on their way out, Peter and Gwen ran into the Rose and Jack O’ Lantern. The Rose aimed to strike down Peter, but, utilizing his Spider Agility, Peter pushed Gwen out of the way and ducked away from the bullet.

Nevertheless, that bullet still struck someone: Captain Stacy. When Peter and Gwen had not exited from the building, Captain Stacy charged into the epicenter of the base in order to find them. Unfortunately, Captain Stacy was in the wrong place in the wrong time. While Peter and Gwen mourning the loss of Captain Stacy, the Rose made his escape. But the Jack O’ Lantern remained to cover the Rose’s flight.

During the chaos of the police raid and Jack O’ Lantern’s distraction attempt, Gwen was knocked off some scaffolding while Peter attempted to protect her from the Jack O’ Lantern. Peter tried to catch her with a webline, but the Jack O’ Lantern ignored the deadly situation that Gwen found herself in and sucker punched Peter in the back. Hoping to get out of the reach of his assailant, Peter leapt off the scaffolding and dove toward his girlfriend, catching her with a webline. However, when he dropped to the floor, Peter discovered that Gwen had not survived whiplash of his rescue attempt.

After grieving the deaths of his girlfriend and her father, who had been a surrogate father to Peter since both his real father and his uncle Ben had been killed, Peter turned his anger towards Jack O’ Lantern. In a fury of rage, Peter would have beaten Jack to a pulp, if he had not realized that he would have become just like the Rose and Jack O’ Lantern: a killer. Instead, Peter left Jack O’ Lantern for the police to deal with.

In the direct aftermath of the two Stacys’ deaths, Peter could not bring himself to dawn his Spider-Man costume, feeling that his alter-ego had been the cause of his girlfriend’s death. Combined with the rising uneasiness caused by the public reaction towards mutants and Jameson’s ever-continuing mudslinging, Peter retired his Spider-Man threads, believing that throwing in the towel would protect all his loved ones who were still alive.

Family & Friends:
-Richard and Mary Parker (deceased): Peter’s biological parents
-Benjamin Parker (deceased): Peter’s Uncle (Richard Parker’s Brother)
-May Reilly Parker: Peter’s Aunt (Benjamin Parker’s wife and Richard Parker’s sister-in-law)
-Gwen Stacy (deceased): Peter’s most recent girlfriend. She was Peter’s Penelope, rivaling Peter’s own natural intelligence. What she lacked in powers, he made up the difference with her intelligence, aiding Peter in many occasions. Her death at the hands of the Rose has traumatized Peter.
-Angelica Jones (aka Firestar): Close Childhood Friend of Peter’s. Went to Xavier Institute of Higher Learning when her powers manifested. She developed a crush on Peter while still in middle school, but she has never been able to act upon those desires. Is the time right or would she prefer them to remain as ‘friends’?
-Bobby Drake (aka Iceman): Close Friend of Peter’s. Went to Xavier Institute of Higher Learning when his powers manifested.
-Mary Jane Watson: Even before Peter and Gwen started dating, Aunt May had been trying to get Peter hooked up with their neighbor’s (Anna Watson) niece. Now that Gwen is “out of the way”, is it time for this pair to come together? Or is it too early?

Powers and Abilities:
-High-level Intelligence: Peter Parker is an extremely gifted student, allowing him to excel in his academic career while he is not busy with his super-heroics. If he is given the correct guidance, tools, and education, Peter Parker’s intelligence could possibly rival those of Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Hank McCoy, and Hank Pym.
-Wall-Crawling: Spider-Man has the ability to create atomic attraction between himself and other objects, allowing him to adhere to numerous surfaces.
-Spider-Sense: Spider-Man possesses an uncanny 6th sense that alerts him to danger within his local proximity. Although his Spider-Sense can alert him if there is danger, it does not provide him with the location or direction from which the danger comes. Combined with Spider-Man’s reflexes, Spidey becomes a difficult target to hit.
-Mechanical Web-Shooters:
-Superhuman Strength: Spider-Man can easily lift approximately 5 tons. He can lift more weight if he exerts himself. Spider-Man must also pull his punches against opponents without similar levels of durability and strength.
-Superhuman Speed: Spider-Man’s natural speed exceeds that of modern Olympic athletes. In other words, Spidey could give Usain Bolt a run for his money.
-Superhuman Stamina: Spider-Man does not produce as many fatigue toxins while he physically exerts himself. He has to spend several hours under strenuous circumstances to feel impaired by these toxins.
-Superhuman Agility: Spider-Man is twice as flexible as a normal human, allowing him to perform acrobatic maneuvers that high-level gymnast would envy.
-Superhuman Durability: Spider-Man can take punishment that would severely injure or otherwise kill an average person. Spider-Man must roll with punches against him in order to prevent the assailant from breaking their limbs.
-Superhuman Reflexes: Spider-Man’s reflexes 20 times greater than an average human’s would be.
-Superhuman Recuperative Healing Factor: While not anywhere near as efficient as mainstream Wolverine’s healing factor, Spider-Man can recuperate from injuries more quickly than they would otherwise normally take.
-Superhuman Sense of Equilibrium: Spider-Man can retain a perfect state of equilibrium, allowing him to remain oriented while crawling upside down and performing acrobatic moves.
-Resistance to Foreign Chemicals: Spider-Man’s metabolism allows him to be less effected by drugs and diseases.
-Immunity to Vampirism: Due to the unique nature of Spider-Man’s Red Blood Cells, Spider-Man has no need to fear any Vampire, in respect to being transformed into one.

Weaknesses:
-Guilt complex: Blames himself for things outside his control (Uncle Ben’s Death).
-Pesticides: While Spider-Man has increased resistance to foreign pathogens, pesticides still are effective against him.
-Not Invincible: Spider-Man can be killed and injured by conventional means. Spider-Man just can take more punishment before he reaches this point.
-Double Life: It is a difficult job trying to juggle school, family, a social life, and his super-heroics without wrecking any one of the other aspects of his life.

Sample Story Arcs:
- Ultimate Spider-Man made an interesting proposition by giving MJ powers. Nevertheless, they never really did anything with it after the Clone Saga story arc. I plan on not making that same mistake…
- A ‘Kraven the Hunter’ story arc based on The Most Dangerous Game is too good to pass up.
- What Spider-Man would be complete without a Marvel Knights story arc?

Sample Post:

Sample Post

Using his spider-powers to cling to his bedroom wall, Peter was staring at a photograph of his deceased girlfriend, Gwen Stacy, reminiscing all the good and the bad times they had together. For the last couple months, even since the day that Gwen died, Peter could not get himself to pull out his Spider-Man costume from his closet. In his head, Peter kept replaying images from that night and he contemplated how he could have changed those events so that Gwen, and even her father, might be alive today. But unfortunately, thinking about how he could have changed the various outcomes of that night could never bring either of them back from the grave.

“Peter! You have a guest!” Aunt May hollered to her nephew from the bottom of the stairs.

“Tell him I’m no here!” Peter shouted back. But instead of the silence that Peter wanted, he heard a knock on his door. Landing softly on his bed, just like a cat leaping down onto the floor, Peter flipped a switch on his desk that unlocked his door.

“It’s unlocked!” Peter said to whoever was on the other side of the door.

“You do realize that shouting down to your aunt kind of defeats the purpose of trying to get me to think that you are not here. And assuming that I am a ‘him’ is sexist.”

Angelica Jones walked into Peter’s room. Angelica and Peter were best friends in middle school, but her father enrolled her at the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning once her mutant powers manifested (although at the time neither of them knew what mutants were). But once the two became acquainted with the other’s secret double life, as Spider-Man and Firestar, the two old friends were able to rekindle their friendship.

“Whatever.” Peter said as he gazed at the floor, not looking his friend in the eyes.

“’Whatever’? That’s not what the Peter I know would say. He would have thrown a pun my way, no matter how bad it is! Are you sure you aren’t an imposter?” Angelica joked, trying to liven Peter up.

“No. I just have had a few rough months, that’s all.” Just mentioning the last couple months brought back painful memories of Gwen to Peter, causing him to sigh. Angelica plopped beside Peter on his bed, wrapping her arms around him, trying to give him the comfort and support that he needed.

“Maybe we should go out on patrol. Just to get your mind off of things.”

Peter shrugged off Angelica’s grasp on him, jumping up from his bed. “I don’t know. I just have not been in the mood since Gwen died.” But when he turned back around to face his friend, Angelica was trying to make the saddest facial expression that she could make.

“But do you even have your costume with you?” Peter asked. But almost as soon as Peter had uttered these words, Angelica lifted up the bottom of her shirt, revealing the yellow fabric that composed her ‘Firestar’ costume.

“Never leave home unprepared.” Angelica smiled at Peter.

Peter paused for a moment, contemplating whether he should even dawn his Spider-Man costume again. After much internal debating over this subject, Peter finally crumbled to Angelica’s peer-pressure. He opened up his closet door and scrambled to find his costume. The first costume he pulled out was the one he had worn on that fateful night when the girl of his dreams died. However, Peter had neglected to wash to since then. Therefore he made a mental note about washing it and continued to search for his spare costume.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Peter told Angelica, holding his spare costume in his hand.

[Secret Police]

Victor von Doom

Player Name: Secret Police Character You Wish To Play: Victor von Doom Moral Alignment: Walking the Line. Affiliation: CEO/President of Doom International, former Latveria citizen. Character Origin & Backstory:

Destiny of Doom

Victor von Doom's life began in 1982 as the younger son of two peasants in the Republic State of Latveria where the government was riddled with corruption and the economy was in a rapid decline. While the wealthy members of society splurged their country's funds on glamour and material wealth the common folk froze in the street and starved. The country would continue this horrid decline for most of Victor's childhood before men like his father started organizing and deciding something had to be done about the government and the way it treats it's people. This began a Separatist movement lead by Victor's father Werner von Doom. At first the Separatists demanded their own free state apart from the established Republic of Latveria only to be denied. When the people who supported this movement began demonstrating they became subject to strong arm tactics causing the state to erupt into Civil war between the Republic State of Latveria and the Separatists lead by Werner von Doom. For the rest of his time in Latveria Victor was forced to go into hiding with his mother to avoid the attention of the government, they went from safe house to safe house for years until one night when the government successfully located them. A firebomb was thrown through their window and the resulting fire consumed his mother and left Victor's body partially scarred. For fear of his sons life, Werner von Doom shipped his son off to an English boarding school under the alias 'Viktor Vaughn' an alias that would stick for a long time. It was during this period Victor's mind was truly shaped, with access to more information than he ever had the boy never stopped learning. He was a prodigy is most of his subjects and the ones he wasn't naturally gifted in, he studied and conquered. Victor would grow to learn whatever he put his mind to, he could easily accomplish.

On the path of Doom

Victor eventually left school at the turn of the century as one of the highest achieving students they'd ever had and continued on into university while scoring a job in the now infant field of robotics working for a fledgling company tasked with constructing military grade prototype drones. This exposed Victor to a whole plethora of knowledge and experience working with military grade robotics and would later prove to be his first stepping stone towards power. As his skills developed Victor began proposing changes to the original design and was soon seen by his superiors as their 'golden child', full of ideas and constantly revolutionizing the robotic field. In a mere three years at age 21 Victor would find himself as one of the youngest and most respected minds in his field eventually given his own lab in America and the privacy to develop whatever he wished. It was during this time Victor began experimenting with the idea of cybernetics and augmenting his own body for future purposes. While one could not doubt Dr Viktor Vaughn's (Doom's still active alias) advanced knowledge of robotics none expected him to be the cunning businessman he was, slowly arising through the business that had been expanding around him Victor von Doom would soon find himself in line to be the next President of the company and eventually renamed the business 'Doom International' after changing his name and revealing his true identity as the son of a former Latveria Separatist leader. This new bit of information attracted many potential enemies to Victor but they stayed their distance knowing how untouchable the man was now, he was earning well over a few million a year alone and had more than enough to help fund the now empowered Separatist movement in Latveria. Doom International was now becoming one of the most respected developers of military grade weapons, namely in robotics and cybernetics, with a young 25 year old Victor von Doom leading them in the right direction.

Sentence to Doom

In the last five years between his take over of Doom International and the present Victor von Doom has subjected himself to experimentation that has resulted in astounding results. Victor has adopted a secret agenda to turn himself into a living weapon to help conquer Latveria for its people, while some may view this as some form of megalomania Victor believes ambition alone makes the man. Currently, he is a 30 year old single bachelor living as one of the richest men in Baltimore, Maryland. Under the guise of 'The Master' Victor von Doom funds the Latverian rebels and has proven to be the single largest impact in the last ten years, much like his father Victor has been able to lead the rebels to a slow victory over their oppressors.

Powers and Abilities:

Advanced Genius Level Intellect

Victor von Doom has proven to be one of the brightest minds on planet Earth to date. A world renowned scientist and businessman Doom has used his mind to get where he is today, he is constantly educating himself and picking up new skills. After enhancing himself with an advanced cybernetics system Victor's commutative abilities have multiplied massively, with a computer built in his brain visualizing theoretical situations and near instantaneous comprehension are only some abilities granted to him. Over the period of his life, Victor has used his great intellect to master a variety of combative skills.

Limited Technopathy

An unnatural talent Victor has allowing him to innately understand almost all forms of technology he encounters. This has allowed Victor to forge thousands of gadgets although he may not always have them on hand.

Progenitor Bias

An AI that is designed to serve Victor to its full potential, after completing cybernetic trials on himself granting him the ability to integrate with computers, Victor's next step was developing a system to operate it thus creating 'Progenitor Bias' one of the first self aware artificial lifeforms crafted by man. Running off a highly advanced quantum computing system, the AI runs a program that predicts what Victor's next actions could be and then prepares the suit for the most logical of them all with an accuracy of 98.95%. The AI has advanced protection system and backup directives designed to protect Victor at all cost from most imaginable situations. Since the system is hardwired straight into Victor's neural network it has been able to passively enhance his body to operate at its most peak physical level turning Victor into an Olympic level athlete.

'Doom Suit'

A one-of-a-kind suit of armor Victor has invented for himself the suit has a multitude of uses and is constantly being upgraded by Doom.

The doom suit is comprised of three different layers of defense. The outer most layer is an invisible fore-field emitted from the belt of the Doom suit, this barrier is generally a skintight shield that absorbs a variety of damage but can also be expanded to encompass those around doom at the expense of strength. The second layer is a thin yet highly durable layer of titanium alloy plates spread around his body covering the most vital points and held on by the final layer - a highly advanced one of a kind cloth mesh that covers most of his body. The mesh is reactive to the AI controlling it and uses an advanced electronics seal the plates to the mesh. The suit is equipped with a highly sophisticated life support system with reserves that can sustain Victor for lengthy periods of time and allow him to survive in the harshest of environments.

Magical Prowess

Although currently unknown to him, Victor von Doom holds a natural ability to utilize magic he simply lacks training in the field to do so. Sample Story Arcs:

• Victor von Doom's entire life has been built around a single desire, for Latveria and her people to have their own identity free from corruption and oppression. To create a Utopia for mankind is Victor's ultimate goal, his path to achieving this however may not suit some people especially those who already hold the power themselves.
• Much of his abilities are still in their infancy, if he wants to have the power to help his people Victor may need to embrace his magical heritage.
• Victor's father and brother have never been confirmed dead, simply disappeared never to be heard from again. Although he personally believes they are dead and gone, he still wishes to find out the story behind their death and who is responsible for it.
• Victor has many political and business enemies who would love to see nothing more than seeing him buried six feet under, many of these enemies even have the power to do so. Exactly who the enemies he has are for the most part unknown. This can easily result in a power struggle between him and many outside forces for control of his country and his international multi-billion dollar business.
• Latveria is a rather small and underdeveloped country with very little natural resources, Victor figures there must be a reason that it is being so heavily contested.

Sample Post:

The Doom Conundrum

"Yes well.. I understand that too all I'm saying is.. Fine. I'll get it done don't worry." Victor slammed the phone down absorbing the silence that now filled his office. Dilemma after dilemma, this had been Victor's life since day one. He had always overcome any issue he ran into but never anything on this scale, what he was considering doing was war. His enemies had more power, more money, more allies than he but Victor has never backed down and this would be no different. There was a solution to every problem, he knew that the only issue was figuring one out. Currently the problem was with the foreign aid in Latveria, the rebels he supports aren't organized enough to break the stalemate. The only way he could get them to do that was if they unite under one leadership, specifically his, but without having a presence in that country the rebels may not obey him. Victor was required to be here in America to run his business and amass the wealth needed to fund his endeavor. There was no way he could operate in two places at once, was there? Spinning in his chair to face the massive ceiling-to-floor windows in his office, Victor leaned back in his chair and sighed when a knocked echoed from the door. "Come in" he called watching a slender, dark-skinned woman in a simple maroon dress enter. His secretary Beth was new and still appeared nervous when she spoke him "Hello sir, I have your mail and that report you asked for from Dr. Anton Vanko." Victor nodded and continued looking out his window onto the sunny Boston city. As Beth approached his desk her clacking shoes echoed throughout the room and Victor felt them assault his ears with each step. Victor waited for her to place the stack of papers on his desk and begin to walk away before he calmly turned and addressed her. "Beth do you enjoy wearing those shoes?" He said looking down at the papers, more crap mostly he thought to himself eyeing the manila envelop before he noticed a letter with the name 'Dr William White' written across the front the name seemed familiar but Victor ignored it and looked up at Beth. Beth paused for a moment and appeared hesitant before she spoke "No.. not really?" "Then don't wear them anymore, no more clicky-clack shoes they drive me insane. Get yourself a comfortable and preferably quiet pair." his voice was firm yet he meant nothing by it, she had thought before she spoke and most important was honest something he would remember. Looking up she nodded at him before quickly slipping out through the door, clearly fearing she had made a fatal error. As the door shut behind her a sly smirk appeared on Victor's face, he always enjoyed watching people squirm. Lifting up the manila folder from Dr Vanko, he once more saw the letter from Dr White and Victor suddenly felt something click in his mind. His eyes widened and his head turned to face the computer, staring at the blank screen in front of him he allowed images to fill his head as the gears in his brain churned at full power. The name was familiar he knew that but now he knew who the man was, Dr White was an engineer and one of the members of the same team Victor was on to create the prototype drones all those years ago. He carefully opened the small letter and quickly scanned over the hastily written note. 'Dear Dr. von Doom, I am Dr Bill White, we worked together on an unmanned drone prototype a couple years back. Through contacts of my own I have come to learn of your interest in history specifically eastern european history, eastern european history is something I am very good at you see. If you're ever interested in talking about it contact me. My number is enclosed. - Bill White' Victor looked over the note again and his eyes focused on the words 'eastern european history'. Something about them stood out to Victor as if Dr White was trying to infer something. Picking up the envelope Victor found a small business card of a laundromat located in Boston, it featured a phone number and address along with a little washing machine decal. Giving the note one last read over Victor grew even more curious of what he could be trying to say. After a couple moments of consideration Victor lifted the phone on his desk and tapped in the number of the laundromat. The phone rung a couple times before the voice of an older man coughed out a raspy "Hello?" "Hello this is Victor von Doom, President of Doom International. I was interested with speaking with Dr White?" After a few moments Dr White spoke with a much more serious tone "Yes. Let's meet next Friday. I'll be at your office then." without waiting for a reply the phone clicked off and Victor noted the date in his mind. Victor pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it curiously. Something was beginning to unfold around him and the fact he didn't fully understand it yet put him on edge for the first time in years.

So yeah I guess I'm done. How is it?

[Ruby]

.

[Whiskey Business]

The Master of Kung Fu Shang-Chi The Immortal Iron Fist!

Player Name: Whiskey Business Character You Wish To Play: Shang Chi as the 67th Immortal Iron Fist Moral Alignment: Hero Affiliation: None

Character Origin & Backstory

The Failed Son

Shang Chi was bred to serve his father, Fu Manchu, a crime lord to one of the most dangerous criminal cartels of the world. He learned from various masters of combat and underwent an excruciating training regiment led by the Si-Fan, elite assassins under his father's employ. Each session left the young boy battered and bruised. Nights rarely offered him a chance to rest, for lectures and philosophy awaited him in the moonlight. These after hour teachings often involved watching his father torture those who had wronged him and his organization. It was meant to strengthen his son's resolve. Fu Manchu hoped to instill the proper foundation for his son to one day rule in his place. Shang Chi, however, had no such desires. Despite Fu Manchu's best efforts, his son's heart was simply incorruptible. In fact, baring witness to such cruelty only invigorated Shang Chi to bring justice for all of his father's wrongdoings. It thus became his motivation in life to thwart any and all of his operations, covertly sabotaging every element of his father's empire. Eventual word of his son's betrayal summoned a merciless demon within Fu Manchu. From that day forward, Shang Chi never stopped looking over his shoulder. The crime lord sent wave after wave of assassins, but none were successful against the prodigal master of combat. To this day, Fu Manchu and his Si-Fan relentlessly pursue the betrayer, stopping at nothing until vengeance is claimed and honor is restored.

The Failed Friend

Shang Chi went on to travel the world, eventually settling down in America where he befriended a few superheroes and martial artists. One of particular note was Danny Rand, the 66th Iron Fist to ever wield the power of Shou Lao the Undying. The two were great friends and formidable allies in the war against crime and villainy. However, overtime it became apparent that the dragon force Rand wielded had corrupted his chi - so much so that Shou Lao possessed the Iron Fist without much resistance, taking full control of his powers in the process. The results were catastrophic. Shou Lao's possession of Danny Rand nearly decimated the entire Eastern seaboard. Shang Chi had no choice but to stop his friend. He hoped to release Danny from the dragon's control without killing him. The feat itself would prove to be impossible. The duel eventually ascended into other-wordly combat, as Shang Chi and the possessed Iron Fist fought on an ethereal battlefield. What passed as minutes went by in years within the trans dimensional pocket of reality where Shou Lao's essence reigned supreme. Shang managed to strike at a vital spot that weakened the dragon's grip over Rand. In this moment, Shou Lao sensed its demise and used a great sum of his power to force the battle back onto earth. With the dragon seemingly vulnerable, Danny Rand was able to temporarily regain control of his body. With much regret, Shang Chi was forced to land the final blow - ending the battle and Danny Rand's life, severing his link between Shou Lao in the process. Such a feat activated the rite of transfer, and contrary to Shang Chi's aversion, became the 67th Iron Fist to wield the dragon force of Shou Lao the Undying. Those affiliated with Shang and Danny are somewhat conflicted with what happened. Some fear that the Shou Lao will try to possess him like it did Rand. Others hold a grudge against Shang, believing there was another way, a better way, to save their friend. The general consensus is that Shang Chi saved the world at a great cost, but there is an underlying sentiment among a select few (namely Luke Cage) that claim he wanted the power of the dragon force for himself. Whether or not that's true remains to be seen...

The Failed Search

Shang Chi is currently investigating the whereabouts of K'un-Lun. It is one of the capital cities of heaven, the one true haven for all Iron Fists. For reasons unknown, Shang Chi cannot communicate with any of the former Iron Fists, thus making his search even more difficult. His only clue to its location is a myth that says the mystical city appears on earth only once every ten years. He hopes to enter K'un-Lun and somehow bring Danny back from the dead and be rid of the dragon force once and for all.

Powers & Abilities

Shang Chi's abilities post-Iron Fist are amplified across the grid. Peak physical conditioning, skilled marksmanship with melee weapons, weapons master, master martial artist, and complete nervous system control, have increased exponentially due to the use of chi augmentation with the dragon force. However, cannot help but use his newfound powers passively. Reluctantly obtaining the Iron Fist mantle at the cost of his friend's well-being has subconsciously dwarfed his true potential. As a result, Shang Chi has become more of a support healer type.

He takes on a more defensive approach when fighting crime, under utilizing the near-limitless power of Shou Lao. The dragon force allows him to Mind Meld with others, able to break people free of mind control and can also share memories and emotions. He can also absorb massive amounts of energy, as well as detect various energy signatures.

Sample Story Arcs

• A "Game of Death" scenario. Shang Chi must ascend up a tower fighting master martial artists in order to discover a truth about K'un-Lun.
• An arc putting Fu Manchu and the Si-Fan at the forefront of world threats. Major truths for Shang Chi are to be revealed.
• Any magic-themed plot that could somehow intertwine Shang Chi's ongoing search for K'un-Lun and/or his identity as the new Iron Fist.

Sample Post

I am a single blade of grass amidst a sea of thorn-branched weeds. I will not waver... The soft radiance of the rising sun brought warmth to his body. Shang Chi stood perched on top of a tall oak, perfectly motionless since the night before. He assumed the form of the crane stance, maintaining his entire weight on a single leg with both arms raised above his head. If it were not for the yellow-colored sash and mask, he could've been mistaken as an extension of the branch. His emerald green garbs blended well with the forest in full bloom. The moon exchanges hands with the sun, with it, comes the wild of night. The sun returns to reunite with his brother, with it, comes the wild of morning. Both ends of the spectrum must meet before reaching the peak of their truer essence. With it, brings life dependent upon each cycle... Shang Chi meditated on those words. He did not force their understanding, rather, he continued to let them roll off the tongue of his inner voice. Such was the paradigm of truths as of late. Since dawning the mantle of the Iron Fist, Shang Chi has been caught in a tumultuous flux. Merging with the powerful dragon force of Shao Lou the Undying has bloated his chi, creating imbalance. Oversaturated with power, the Master of Kung Fu struggles to maintain equilibrium. His internal dilemma is no doubt amplified by the loss of his friend, Danny Rand. In his passing, Daniel gave the power of the Iron Fist to a reluctant Shang Chi. The resulting pain from acquiring it is one that cannot be simply healed. Images of their combat flashed into his mind. The glaring eyes of Shao Lou flickered within Danny's possessed gaze as they battled on. Momentary glimpses of Rand's normal self would resurface during their duel from time to time. It made the fight even more difficult for Shang Chi to overcome. It became abundantly clear that relinquishing Shao Lou's possession of Danny without fatal injury wasn't possible. After fighting to a standstill, there was simply no other way... Or was there? Shang Chi frowned. No... there was no other way. Oh? You truly believe so? Shang struggled to remain calm, tried taking deep breaths to control his heart rate. Stop. Claim the high horse as your seat all you like, but no matter which angle you look at it, the apple did not fall far from the tree...son of Fu Man- "GRRRRGGHHH!!!!!" Without hesitation or thought, Shang Chi clenched his fist until it bled with golden energy and slammed it onto the trunk of the oak. A rippling wave of chi splashed into the shape of a spear, evaporating the top end of the tree in its bright aura. The weight of such power came as a shock, and Shang Chi no longer had control of it. The concussive force of the blast immediately broke the large oak from its foundation, then bulldozed through a cluster of other trees behind it. Shang immediately leapt off the falling oak and landed onto the branch of another. The sound of groaning wood and crashing thuds ignited the forest in a frenzy. Birds flew to the skies, cawing in fear. Shang regained his composure, calming the inner storms of his mind and spirit. Somewhere deep within himself, he could feel Shao Lou smiling. It made him sick. You are not worthy of the mantle... I know...

[Bright_Ops]

Player Name:Bright Ops Character You Wish To Play:Loki Laufeyson Moral Alignment: Hero Affiliation: Himself, the Folk (Humanity) Character Origin & Backstory: Many years ago, when Bor, ruler of Asgard, was battling frost giants, he followed a wounded giant to a powerful sorcerer that was waiting for him. The sorcerer caught him unaware, turning Bor into snow. Bor's son, Odin, found his father as he was blowing away; Bor begged Odin to find a sorcerer to free him, but Odin made no attempt to save his father. Bor cursed Odin saying that he would take in the son of a fallen king and raise it as his own. Not a week later, Odin himself led the Asgardians into battle against the Frost Giants and killed Laufey, who was the King, in personal combat. After slaying Laufey, Odin found a small Asgardian-sized child hidden within the primary stronghold of the Frost Giants. The child was Loki and Laufey had kept him hidden from his people due to his shame over his son's small size. Odin took the boy, out of a combination of pity, to appease his father, and because he was the son of a worthy adversary slain in honorable combat, and raised him as his son. For a number of years, Loki tried to live up to his father's expectations and earn his rightful place in Asgard. His parentage as the child of a frost giant shadowed his dealings with the other members of Asgard, but it was his personality and personal strengths that truly distanced him from his peers; The Asgardians valued great strength, tenacity, and bravery in battle above all things while Loki instead favored intelligence and trickery to win his battles. While such conduct was oftentimes considered dishonorable by the more 'honor bound' (Read: Thick headed) Asgardians, Loki did earn a grudging respect for himself after he was able to trick an enemy builder into building Asgard a mighty defensive wall for nothing without harming the honor of the Asgardians; The builder himself had in fact been one of the Rock Folk (troll) trying to con the Asgardians by presenting himself as a member of the Folk instead of his true form in order to secure the payment of the Goddess of Desire for a bride alongside control of the Sun and the Moon. Things changed the day that, as a joke, Loki cut off Sif's hair. Threatened with violence, Loki promised to fetch replacement hair from the dwarves. Having a word with the Sons of Ivaldi in order to have the hair created, Loki decided to try and earn some goodwill with the rest of Asgard by having two other gifts created; A magical ship that could sink down enough to be fitted into a pocket and a spear that would never miss its target. As he was about to return to Asgard with these gifts, Loki ran into a dwarf named Eitri who was insulted that Loki had gone to the Sons of Ivaldi over him. Loki challenged him to do better and Eitri accepted; the terms of the bet was that Eitri would make three gifts of his own and all six would be presented to the Asgardians who would judge which gifts were better. If Loki lost, Eitri would claim his head for daring to disregard his abilities. As Eitri and his brother work the forge, Loki shape-shifted into a mayfly and attempted to sabotage the pair's efforts by biting Eitri's brother while he works the bellows. The first two attempts failed to produce results, but while working on the final treasure (A hammer) Loki bit Eitri's brother right between the eyes, causing him to stop pumping the bellows in pain for a moment and causing the hammer to be flawed (Its handle was shorter then it was intended, resulting in it only being a one handed weapon). Despite the flaw in his work, the Asgardian's judged Eitri's gifts to be the better. As the dwarf went to claim his price of Loki's head, Loki managed to save himself by claiming that while his head was Eitri's, his neck was still his and thus he had no right to harm it. Unable to find a way to remove Loki's head without harming his neck, Eitri was enraged to find himself cheated of his prize and instead decided to sow Loki's mouth shut much to the amusement of the various Asgardian's who had been witness to the presentation of the gifts. Eitri's magic would leave eight silver scars on his face, four on each side of his mouth. This was the moment that Loki finally realized that he would never truly be considered one of the Asgardian's. While it was true that not all of them laughed at his pain, not a single one of them attempted to help him in the slightest. This was the moment that Loki vowed that he would see them all fall. Over the years Loki would subtlety undermine and weaken the Asgardian's from within, often by using their natures against them to either harm their relationships with each other or to lose powerful artifices to their enemies; All the while, he would carefully be gathering together allies from the various enemies of the Asgardian's, more often then not by making them think they were the ones getting the upper hand against the Trickster. Loki would have numerous children during this period. By his wife Sigyn he would have twin sons named Vali and Narvi; By the sorceress Angrboda he would have his daughter Hel, Fenris the wolf demon and Jormungand the world serpent. Loki would continue his attempts to undermine Asgard until Odin would share the prophecy of Mimir with the other gods while taking all effort to prevent Loki from finding out about it. With the other Asgardian's making him more uncomfortable and more unwelcome then normal and learning that it was due to some sort of prophecy, Loki would secretly visit Mimir to hear it for himself. Hearing Mimir's prophecy put several ideas that Loki would never have thought of on his own in his head. Carrying out these new plans Loki was forced into hiding in an attempt to escape from the wrath of the Asgardian's. Several attempts were made to capture Loki, such as Odin threatening to execute Loki's twin sons if he didn't return; When Loki didn't surrender himself, Odin carried out his threat. Shortly afterwards, Loki was captured. Bound to a tree at the boarders of the worlds to remain until the end of the world, Loki would be captive to a venomous snake that kept spiting insanely painful venom into his eyes and his wife Sigyn (who after the death of her twin sons was deranged enough to make Annie Wilkes proud). Loki would stay there for quite sometime until he was freed from his torment by the Sorceress Gullvieg-Heid to aid her in bringing about the end of Asgard and Ragnarök. Loki, completely consumed by a desire for revenge, agreed. Ragnarök happened shortly afterwards. It is hard to put into words the scale of the worlds being destroyed after the sun and the moon was consumed by the fel wolves, of the pain and bloodshed as brother turned against brother and monsters of all shapes and sizes laid siege to Asgard. It is hard for mere words to do justice to the death of gods and the Chaos that consumed all. While Ragnarök was an end, it wasn't the end. The worlds were reborn and the new came to replace the ruins of the old. A number of Asgardian's didn't actually die during Ragnarök, instead being claimed by the Lord of Chaos and locked away inside of a fortress in the Netherworld. Loki found himself amongst that number since his propose had been fulfilled. Locked in a cell of his own worst fears with a demon personally crafted to ensure that he couldn't escape (Naturally in the shape of a snake) Loki would have completely lost himself to his despair were it not for a single ray of hope. The last few verses of Mimir's prophecy suggested that the worlds would start anew and that, possibly, he might have a chance to escape this torment and start with a clean slate. A flimsy ray of hope maybe, but hope none the less that helped keep Loki relatively sane. Time is not really a factor in the Netherworld (It's the realm of chaos. Rules like time don't really apply there) but after who knows how long of imprisonment and torment Loki found himself freed from his cell and on the world of the Folk (Humans) after a group of young human males calling themselves Young Serbia performed a powerful ritual to try and summon a force of chaos to aid them in freeing Serbia from Austria-Hungary's iron grasp. They were rather successful as it turned out. While he was more than grateful to be free and might have even aided his rescuers on his own accord, the fact that they had used the ritual to bind him to their service irked him greatly. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and his wife and the almost comical series of mishaps that happened on both sides that finally brought the assassination about were very much Loki's doing... And once the task was performed his debt was fulfilled and he was completely free to abandon his liberators to their accepted ends. Before the year was over, Loki was shocked, proud and a little bit horrified at the sheer scale of death and destruction that was sparked off by his actions. The chaos brought about by the 'Great War' was more then enough to restore and sustain Loki for quite a long time, but still he decided to lay low in order to get a feel for the world he now found himself in. If what had quite honestly started off as a minor conflict had resulted in a war so grand in scale that it shook the very world to the core he needed to reign himself in before he found himself standing alone in a Hel like landscape or worse. Over the 98 years that he has been free, Loki has kept a somewhat more subtle existence. In truth, he has rather taken a shine to these cycle of Folk due to their naturally chaotic and intelligent nature; Unlike the worlds of old in which the strongest ruled and were respected, here it was the inventive and the cunning that took point in shaping how things continued on. While Loki is more then willing to slip in the odd joke, most of his work over the years has been dedicated to preventing the Folk from wiping themselves out. The recent raise of Super-humans has actually caught Loki's interest and has offered him the chance to be a bit more open about his existence. Powers and Abilities:

Powers, Abilities and Weaknesses

Loki is a member of the race of Frost Giants of Jotunheim, although not a giant in stature. He possesses physical attributes equal to a fit member of the race known as the Asgardian Gods, such as enhanced strength; stamina, speed, durability, (his Frost Giant metabolism grants him superhuman levels of physical stamina in practically all activities); durability enough to harmlessly withstand high-caliber bullets; and immunity to all known diseases and toxins, as well as resistance to magic. Loki possesses genius-level intelligence and has extensive training in magic, and possesses the ability to manipulate magical forces for a variety of purposes: energy projection, creation of force fields, temporarily increasing his own physical strength, granting superhuman abilities to living beings or inanimate objects, flight, hypnosis, illusion casting, and inter-dimensional teleportation. Loki's magical abilities have been described as equal to those of Karnilla, the most skilled sorceress of Asgard. His illusion casting can fool cities, and powerful entities such as Surtur. Loki is an adept shapeshifter and can change into animals (examples include transmogrification to a salmon, horse, etc.) or impersonate other people. However, he does not necessarily gain the abilities of whatever he turns into, although minor natural abilities such as flight in bird form tend to work. Loki may mimic the abilities of some supernatural beings if he turn into such creatures. Loki possesses a brilliant intellect, with some knowledge of technology. He is an expert manipulator and schemer, frequently using pawns in his plans. He is sometimes armed with a sword, a whip, or a three-pronged spear and has used magical items to enhance his powers. To the surprise of those who don't know his past all that well, Loki has Ophidiophobia; a fear of snakes. This is something that he keeps very much to himself.

Sample Story Arcs: Second Chance with a clean slate: Loki has been granted something that he had hoped but honestly never expected to get; A second chance at life. With Asgard gone, all of the Asgardian's that he had hated either long dead or rotting in a cell in the Netherworld and after enduring the torment of the Netherworld and his mistakes for countless eons, Loki is rather happy to try a be something deserving of this second chance. Morality is objective: Loki's idea of morality has never been the most fixed of things, even back when he wasn't plotting and scheming against the powers that be in Asgard. However, the scale of morality that he was raised with is vastly different to the one that is often used by modern cultures of the Folk. Such things can cause friction between himself and the forces of 'Good' Can the scorpion truly change his nature?: Being a hero and doing good for others without some end goal in mind is... new to Loki. Will he be able to maintain his new found desire to do good or will he fall back into old habits once more? Sample Post: Despite having had the ability to do so for almost a century, there was nothing quite like laying down on a soft bed and simply... relaxing. As his head sank a little into the pillow, Loki couldn't help he smile a little. If he had to pick only one thing about this new world the Folk had made for themselves that he loved, he would be very hard pressed not to answer finance. The whole system was based on the agreed upon illusion that a piece of paper was equal to an agreed upon amount of gold and that a bank will happily trade that note for the agreed amount of gold on the condition that no one ever asks them to do so. Opening his eyes for a moment and looking around his hotel suite, Loki's silvery grin seemed to grow a little wider. The bedroom alone had already bested the riches and comfits of some of the halls of Asgard herself; The fact that the bastards who had denied him his own hall in Asgard would never be able to enjoy such a thing themselves appealed to the wicked part of Loki's soul and simply made the experience all the better. It didn't even take all that much to secure the room either. A simple illusion so that a machine registered that there was enough illusionary money wasn't all that hard and quite frankly was pretty much what the whole system was based off of anyway. Reaching over for the remote, Loki happily turned on the rather large TV that on opposite the bed. Changing the channel a few times to see what was on he stopped as he came across one of the news networks. The title of the story currently headlining at caught his attention and he couldn't help but settle in to watch. "As police arrived at the scene, dozens of colored men wearing the white robes of the KKK were already dead on the ground as the still living members of the terrorist organization were trying to murder each other, all of them also of color. As police started to round up and arrest the survivors some of them started to recognize the men that they were arresting and they can confirm with the family, friends and video evidence that the suspects had been Caucasian mere hours before the arrest. Medical personal are currently..." Loki didn't hear the rest of the report because he was to busy laughing and trying to hold in his sides. It was honestly one of the best pranks he had ever pulled. Changing the color of something was a surprisingly easy spell and frankly the reason behind their hatred was just plain stupid and foolish. Wiping away a build up of water around his eyes as his laughter started to slow down, Loki couldn't help but bask in the glow of how good he felt. With a satisfied sigh, he whispered to himself "Life is good."

[Byrd Man]

Player Name: Byrd Man Character You Wish To Play: Rachel Cole-Alves Moral Alignment: WTL Affiliation: None at the moment. Formerly, Marine Forces Recon and the Central Intelligence Agency Character Origin & Backstory: Before there was Rachel, there was Frank Castle. November 12th, 1950: Francis Castle is born in Queens August 10th, 1964: Congress passes the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, allowing president Lyndon Johnson to use conventional military force to stop the Communist insurgency in South Vietnam. July 28th, 1965: Johnson pledges to send nearly four hundred thousand troops to Vietnam, tripling the US commitment to fight the Viet Cong. January 30th, 1968: Anti-Communist forces launch the Tet Offensive, pouring men and resources into the area and sending the conflict in Vietnam from police action to full-on war. November 12th, 1968: Frank Castle enlists in the US Marine Corps September 2nd, 1969: Sergeant Frank Castle ships out to join the 1st Marine Division as a platoon sergeant December 25th, 1969: The Christmas Day Massacre near Đắk Glei wipes out half of Castle's platoon. He kills over two dozen attacking VC with an M60 machine gun. Castle is awarded medals for bravery and recruited for Special Forces work. January 1st, 1970 - April 30th, 1974: HISTORY REDACTED AT THE REQUEST OF USMC FORCE RECONNAISSANCE May 1st, 1974: Granted a battlefield commission to 1st Lieutenant, Frank Castle is honorably discharged from the USMC and sent home. June 2nd, 1975: Frank Castle marries Maria Castle. March 24th, 1976: Lisa Castle is born. August 17th, 1978: Francis Castle Jr. is born. July 7th, 1980: Maria, Lisa, and Frank Castle Jr. are all murdered, caught in a cross-fire at Central Park between mobsters. Severely wounded, Frank survives. December 18th, 1981: After two mistrials and numerous accusations of jury tampering, Jimmy Rizzo and Carlo Andolini, the two Scargetti Crime Family hitmen who killed Castle's family, are found not guilty by a jury of their peers. The same day Frank Castle leaves his family home for the last time. December 20th, 1981: Jimmy Rizzo and Carolo Andolini are found dead, their bodies tortured and mutilated. December 22nd, 1981 - March 17th, 1982: Fifty-two made men and associates of the Scargetti Family are brutally murdered by an unknown assailant. March 18th, 1982: Fearing for his life and safety, Dominic Scargetti turns himself over to members of the FBI and confess to numerous racketeering and conspiracy charges. He receives life in prison. March 28th, 1982: Frank Castle mails a letter to the Daily Bugle with explicit photos of Scargetti Family members shortly before their murders. In the letter, Castle claims that the men killed were the first casualties in a new war on crime he is waging. Not as Frank Castle, but as The Punisher. 1982-2002: Using his military background and money from murdered criminals, Frank Castle wages his one man war with the criminal syndicates in America. Over a twenty year span, he kills at least a thousand men in thirty states in addition to another two hundred speculated murders around the US and abroad. Until September 11th, he is first on the FBI's Most Wanted List. June 6th, 1984: Rachel Cole is born in Brooklyn September 30th, 2002: Rachel Cole enlists in the US Marines Corps. January 12th, 2003: The last known kill by the Punisher is recorded in Philadelphia, PA. 2003 - 2007: Gunnery Sergeant Cole serves with the USMC in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Cole is recrutied into the Marine Corps Forces Reconnaissance. 2007 - 2009: HISTORY REDACTED AT THE REQUEST OF USMC FORCE RECONNAISSANCE February 13th, 2009: Cole is honorably discharged from the USMC February 15th, 2009: Cole is hired by the Central Intelligence Agency as a "Security Advisor" 2009 - 2012: HISTORY REDACTED AT CIA REQUEST November 11th, 2012:Cole returns to New York City and finds employment as a cable TV installer. February 14th, 2013: Cole becomes engaged to marry Dr. Daniel Alves, a Brooklyn based dentist. October 5th, 2014: 13 members of the Cole-Alves wedding party are gunned down at their reception by unknown assailants. The members of the wedding party are thought to have been unfortunate bystanders caught in the crossfire between the attackers and the men they were chasing. Among those killed include the groom Daniel Alves and mother of the bride Jessica Cole. Rachel Cole is wounded and rushed to surgery where she recovers. November 16th, 2014: Rachel Cole-Alves is discharged from the hospital. At the same time, three associate members of the Brutenilli Crime Family are gunned down in the Bronx. The three dead men match eyewitness descriptions of three of the shooters involved in the Cole-Alves wedding massacre. November 18th, 2014: Sixty-four year old Frank Castle emerges from seclusion and contacts Rachel Cole-Alves at her home. November 20th, 2014 - December 7th, 2014: The entire Brutenilli Crime Family are executed by persons unknown. Joseph Martinzio, the boss of the family, is found stabbed to death and wearing a bloody wedding dress. December 19th, 2014: A fire breaks out at the Federal Maximum Security Penitentiary in Fishkill, NY. While the men are being escorted to safety, a man disguised as a corrections officer stabs the now ninety year old Dominic Scargetti to death with a rusty shiv. Inside the dead Don's pocket is a faded photo of Frank Castle in his family. December 23rd, 2014: A dead body is discovered on the streets of the Bronx. It is positively identified as Frank Castle. An autopsy reveals that the man died of liver cancer that had metastasized years earlier and eaten at nearly every major organ in his body. Pathologist determine that he lived nearly ten years with the cancer and ignored the intense pain. January 1st, 2015: Fredo Lopes, a Spanish Harlem pimp suspected of killing two prostitutes, is gunned down in cold-blood by an unknown gunman. Carved into the dead man's forehead is a skull. A letter to the Daily Bugle and published the next day claim responsibility for the murder. The death was not justice: it was punishment. Frank Castle is dead, but his legacy lives on. Powers and Abilities: No powers, but Rachel is a former Marine and is an expert soldier with a training in a variety of forms of conventional and unconventional warfare and hand to hand combat. In addition to that, she has access to the money and guns Frank Castle had confiscated over a lifetime of waging his war on crime. Sample Story Arcs: Give 2-3 ideas on where you want to go with your character: The Boston Massacre: Rachel experiences growing pains in her new role as the Punisher. In Boston she goes toe to toe with the Irish Mob and their gun-running enterprise. City of Angels: Following the trail of gun-smuggling, Rachel finds herself in Los Angeles and has to protect an LAPD office who finds himself in over his head when a simple traffic stop becomes something much more complicated. Mission Creep: The Company has gotten wind of Rachel's activities and come calling. A figure from her past returns, hellbent on getting her under his boot no matter the collateral damage. Sample Post:

Sample Post

La Araña Discoteca Spanish Harlem "The hell do you want, puta?" The bouncer outside the nightclub didn't have time to get his answer. A powerful fist struck him in the face and drove him to the ground. The bouncer looked up, his sunglasses astray, and right into the blade of a butterfly knife. The clubgoers standing outside watched on in shock. "Carlos Fring," Rachel said, placing the blade of the knife under the bouncer's eye. "Fuck off!" The large man yelled. "Wrong answer." Rachel raked the blade up the bouncer's face. The bystanders recoiled and horror and began to scatter. "Ahhh!" The bouncer screamed. He held his bloody face with both hands. "He's in the back office!" Rachel flicked the blade back into its handles and slid the knife back into the holster strapped to her thigh. She stepped over the bleeding bouncer and into the club, a sawed-off shotgun hidden under her coat. Strobe lights flashed and heavy, techo music blasted out the club's speakers. She navigated through the jumping and bumping throng of people towards the club's back offices. A few hundred feet away, Carlos Fring sat at the desk in the club's backroom. He had his pants around his ankles and a woman's face buried into his crotch. While Carlos "relaxed", twin brothers Rob and Roy James were busy at a folding table in front of the desk. They were counting and weighing the half dozen bricks of cocaine and marijuana that were stacked on the table. "This all?" Roy asked. "This ain't nothing." "Times are tough," Carlos said as he titled his head back and closed his eyes. "In a few more weeks we will have a full shipment. Relax. For now, get your people to...," Carlos lost his train of thought as the woman between his legs rolled her tongue. "... Just, business as usual. Smaller supply, cut it more." On the main dance floor, Rachel started to climb up a flight of stairs when a pair of powerful hands grabbed her by the shoulders. She spun around and was brought face to face with a large, Latino man in a dark suit. He tried to shout over the music, but couldn't be heard. While he was shouting, Rachel leveled the shotgun at the man's stomach. The gun kicked in her hands and knocked the man back. The sound of the music masked the shotgun blast. The dying man tumbled down the stairs and came to a stop on the bottom step. One gyrating young girl saw the dead body and screamed before running towards the exit. Rachel racked another round into the shotgun and turned around, quickly climbing the steps. Another guard was waiting at the top of the stairwell. Before the man could react, Rachel brought the butt of the shotgun up into his face. She drove the cartilage from the man's nose up and into his head, puncturing the brain stem. The guard collapsed to the ground, spasming from the brain injury that would kill him in a few seconds. Rachel calmly walked down the hall leading towards the backroom. She was almost there when a black man jumped out and knocked the shotgun from her hands. The man drove Rachel into the corridor's wall and slammed up against her. The guard pummeled her with blows to the face. Rachel shook off the blows and headbutted the man in the face. The guard stumbled backwards and Rachel whipped out her knife, flicking the blade open as the guard charged. She took a glancing blow to the shoulder, but managed to drive the blade of his knife into the side of the man's neck. He cried out and fell to his side. Rachel loomed over him, her face bloody and bruised, and kicked the hilt of the knife further into the man's neck. He went to scream, but blood bubbled out of his mouth and ran out on the floor. Rachel picked up her shotgun and kicked in the office door. Rob and Roy James looked up just in time to be hit with a blast of pellets. The twin brothers fell to the ground, their heads and chests covered in blood and buckshot. Carlos cried out in pain from behind the desk. The sudden shock of the gun had caused the woman between his legs to bite down. "Crazy bitch!" Carlos yelled. He rolled back and the woman underneath the desk popped up, blood and chunks of flesh coated her mouth. "You bit it off! ¡Oh, Dios. Me voy a morir! Maldita perra." "Go," Rachel said, looking at the woman. She scurried off and Frank walked over to Carlos. The gangster held on to his bloody crotch and moaned. Rachel looked down at the bloody member laying on the floor. "I guess it's true what they say about men with little feet... I had planned to shoot you, but I think this is worse." She kneed Fring in his crotch. "¡Dios mío," the man howled in pain and dry heaved. Rachel grabbed Fring by his shoulders and bent down. "Now that I have your attention, you're going to deliver a message to Don Eladio... He's next."

[The New Yorker]

Player Name: The New Yorker Character Name: Matthew Miyahara Moral Alignment: Walking the Line Affiliation: NYPD (briefly with IA during recruitment), Columbia Law School, Lehman University Character Origin & Backstory Matthew Miyahara was born to a brilliant scientist and a former Japanese Special Forces Commander, Beth and Hideo respectively. The married couple moved to the United States after a frightful encounter with Yakuza members in their home. In reality, Hideo was forced to move, for the sake of his family and his honor on the force, it was an order. When they came to America they did not have a child. In 1989 Hideo was 37 and Beth was 31. As soon as they landed on the rainy shores of Seattle they conceived Matthew. So they hit the road and headed east. Beth already had a job lined up at the blooming Fisk Industries*, and Hideo had family in New York anyway. They moved into a quiet brownstone in Riverdale and began creating a home for a toddler. Matthew was born in 1990 May, 27th in that brownstone’s living-room surrounded by family. And so he was raised in this family of three in the Bronx and so he was nurtured by his brilliant mother and strict father. Hideo was stern, certainly, but also very loving of his family. He thought of them, almost, as art, something he helped create with his blood, sweat, tears. And it was in his blood, sweat, and tears that he was forever snuffed from this world, taking with him a portion of the art that was his family. He was followed shortly after by his wife, some suggest she killed herself, Matthew holds that it was foul play, though no body has ever been found. By ’98 Matthew was orphaned and his grandfather and grandmother became his legal guardians, they were his father’s parents. Matts Grandfather Daisuke, known locally as Stick, was one of the first and only heroes operating in the Bronx in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s. He prowled the rooftops in light armor refitted with armor plating from a Samurai suit. The history of Daisuke is long and fantastic but very few know of it, and Daisuke never speaks of it. Matthew only learned of his grandfather’s alter ego through researching into the most obscure newspaper articles and tabloid headlines in order to barely scratch the surface. After understanding the greatness of the man he called “pop-pop” at the age of 13 Matthew was proud, he reeled, asked his Grandfather to teach him the intricacies of the Japanese martial arts. Matt was never old enough for his father to teach him anything and he was, shamefully, disinterested at the time. Matt felt like this would help him better remember his father, by consuming something his father held so dear. And so Daisuke taught his grandson the art of Jujutsu, Kenjutsu, Ninjutsu, and Aikido. By 14 Matt is enrolled in the prestigious Bronx Science, one of the best High schools in New York. By 16 Matthew graduates. Matthew was home schooled by his mother while she was alive, she imparted great wisdom onto him and fostered a feverish interest in knowledge in the young man. That most likely led to his successful academic career. At 16 Matt wanted to enter the police academy, he is turned down and is told to go to college instead, he does so. A full scholarship sweeps 16 year old Matthew Miyahara out of the Bronx and into Columbia Law School under incredibly special circumstances, he is to take supplementary classes at Lehman, near where he lived. For 4 whole years Matt devotes himself to his simultaneous BA in Political science, and Doctorate in Criminal pathology. At 20 years old Matthew Miyahara is a well-trained, Pathologist with the skills of a samurai. He gets a fast-track through the NYPD and passes through the academy with flying colors. During his internship in the Academy he works with Internal Affairs in order to help take down two crooked instructors, they ran a drug scam with some of the students. At 21 Matt is on the force and is not too well liked, he finds a dead rat in his locker at the end of his first month. Matt is enjoying his time on the force, almost a year in, despite his co-workers attempt at the opposite. Matthew responds to a call of shots fired at the midtown docks, a call that will change the rest of his life. Powers and Abilities -Genius level intellect: Matthew is incredibly perceptive, and not just in a strictly sensory way. He knows when things don’t fit, he can tell when something doesn’t make sense, and how the dots connect. He also has a huge wealth of information and knowledge regarding legal, political, and scientific matters. Beside all of that, Matthew is an excellent learner and listener. -Acrobatic dexterity: Matthew’s training with his grandfather has made him lithe and agile. He is able to make huge leaps, climb over vertical surfaces with ease, and perform acrobatic tricks. -Martial arts: Matthew is skilled in joint-locking, “soft skill” force indirection, stealth, swordsmanship, and all the other tiny skills involved therein. -Radar senses: Once Matthew is blind he gains the ability to perceive things around him by the use of an electromagnetic pulse radar which mutated in his brain. He isn’t seeing anything, just receiving feedback from this mutated electromagnetic pulse mechanism which projects images in his consciousness. Heightened senses: The radiation also allowed for dramatic acceleration of Matthew's other senses with the loss of his sight. Weaknesses -Blind: Despite his extrasensory mutant abilities, Matthew is still blind. He doesn't receive constant feedback from this sort of echo location, so someone moving quickly and stealthily could elude Matthew quite well. -Emotional: Despite being a logical and rational thinker, Matthew can sometimes loose control of himself, allowing his emotions to run amok on his thinking. Revenge is currently an overriding element. Sample archs: -Building the Man: Matthew needs to regain his confidence, reassure himself of his abilities and place in the world. Getting a job as a lawyer should do the trick. Here he starts understanding more about his radioactively induced mutations as well. -Building the Machine: Matthew begins his proper work as the Daredevil, setting out on a course of vengence to find the truth behind the killing of his family. -Building the Legend: With the hunt for the Kingpin behind him, Matthew and the Daredevil venture even further into the darkness in order to spread light. The man without fear becomes a Marvel Knight.

Sample Post

The muffled, tinny voice from the radio crackles the atmosphere of the interior of the Police car as Matthew drives down 53rd and 6th. The crimson glow from the taillight speeds along the black road behind the white and blue steel beauty as it hovers past closed restaurants, and a doctor’s office, and a Starbucks. Matt’s bony hands clutch the steering wheel until his knuckles are white and his fingers are red. He quickly lifts the radio receiver to his mouth and clicks the button on the side. “10-4, I’ve got that, Stace” Matt turned into 47th and let the car glide down the little road without any extra speed. Matthews’s partner held onto the dashboard like he was afraid he might go crashing through the window pane. He was a portly man who looked to still be capable in a fight. His white mustache crossed his upper lip like a badge itself. “Ease up there, cowboy.” Terry McGillan said quietly, not wanting to instigate. “It’s an emergency, Terry.” Matt said, smile on his face. He turned up into 8th and around another corner toward the docks. The two boys in blue exited the vehicle in proper police protocol when dealing with a shooting call, guns drawn. They eased up to the chain-link gate and tested it, it didn’t open. “Ah, damnit, don’t tell me I gotta hop this goddamn fence.” Terry blurted, holding his gun to his side like some kind of play thing. Matt holstered his gun, and without saying a word, mounted the fence. He flopped onto the other side unscathed and went to retrieve the keys that were likely in the guard house a few feet away. He wasn’t even near it before he heard a single gun-shot, then another. A white flash illuminated the far off dock and Matt could see some standing figures etched in the distance. He sprinted down the concrete road to the dock and the gunshots. “Hey! Hey, hold it! Wait for back up, boy!” Terry screamed behind Matt as he dashed down the pavement. “Son of a bitch—“ he whispered to himself, half-running to the radio in the car. He called in back-up in rushed, yet professional tones. Matthew’s sprint was even and fast as all hell. His pistol was in his hand, his index finger readily extended near the trigger. Now that he was closer Matt could see two standing figures, drenched in the shadows of the sepia colored lamplight. One tossed a body into the river and the other held what looked to be a bat. On the ground were three bodies, laid out like dolls, a woman kneeled like an angel under the bat-wielders shadow. Matt quickly stopped in place, no more than 25 feet from the scene and pointed his gun forward. He was sweating a little and his vision shook but his hand was gratefully steady. The barrel lined up with the chest of the man holding the bat. The man lifted the bat behind his head and twisted his body. “Freeze! Right now! Police!” Matt’s voice was load, clear, commanding. He felt a rush of adrenaline, the confidence gleamed from his badge and gun. He felt good about himself. The man with the bat let his bodyweight take over then, the bat swung around his body like a comet to a planet and crashed into the head of the woman kneeling. Her body slumped to the floor and Matt was certain he saw a piece of her skull skitter across the concrete. The man who was previously dumping a body wheeled around and his hand lifted from his coat. Matt shifted his weight and brought the pistol’s barrel to the left, his hand went a little too far and so he brought it back and fired. The man to the left twitched and almost fell to the ground, his gun hand dropped to his side and he fell to one knee. The man to the right, holding the bat, sprinted off down the dock lane. Matt fell to one knee and took better aim, just as the man with the gun, who remained near the bodies, tried to do. Matt fired two more shots, the second capped the man. Matt rose and sprinted toward the bodies. What he found there was a heart-splitting disaster. Two men and two women dead, all beaten and shot. Matt looked at the latest victim, most of her head was leaking onto the floor. He was drawn in by the gruesome display. It called to him, not just in desperation, as dead bodies do, but aesthetically as well. That single thought made Matt shiver, and he glanced down the lane to make sure he wasn’t being aimed at. But just as he turned away he saw something in her cold, pale face. She had familiar almond eyes. Matt searched her nametag only to be struck with utter shock. Miyahara was her last name, Janice Miyahara. His heart was pounding through his shirt and his could feel the pulsing of his chest. Matt stood, he was wrapped in his blues, the badge on his chest gleamed dangerously in the lamplight. Two more cop cars wailed at the entrance, the red and blue lights breaching the darkness. Matt sprinted down the dock lane like he’d never sprinted before, he was propelled by the thirst for knowledge, just as he’d always been. This time is was deep, it was emotional, and it was for his family. A figure just disappeared behind a truck, seemingly a gas truck, it’s metal cylindrical train shining. Matt approached it quietly, yet quickly. He turned the corner that was the truck only to receive a personal greeting from a bat. It swung in the air trying to hit is head, knocking the gun from his hands as he recoiled backwards. The bat swung into the trucks train instead. A big dent formed around where it was struck. Matt drew his billie club and blocked another attack. The man wore a leather jacket, corduroy pants. Matt smacked the guy in the stomach with his club and tried for the head. The man ducked and hit Matt in the ribs, then he grabbed the cop by his collar and threw him against the back of the truck, knocking the air out of his lungs. Matt thought about his grandfather’s training, it was always about presence. About maintaining a consciousness even when you should not have one, a presence. Matt maintained consciousness and so blocked the incoming, lethal bat attack. He lifted his club over his head and knocked the bat into the train once more, this time directly at the point where it’d already been hit. A small rupture expelled gas and then whatever incredibly dangerous toxic waste the train was housing. The waste completely covered Matt’s assailant, knocking him to the ground and drowning him in the stuff. Matt was able to get away with only a spray on his face. However, when he got the goop from his eyes, and it wasn’t painful to try opening them any longer, he did so only to find darkness. “I’m… oh, hrmm… I can’t see anything.” Matthew sobbed as Terry ran up to him, crouched on the floor. Both of their voices cracked with shock and despair. “You’re going to be alright, kid.” “Fuck, Terry… No, no, no, no, no!” He screamed loud enough for every cop and pedestrian in the area to hear him. He yelled and no tears streamed from his white eyes though he felt like crying until he was dead. Spittle fell to the floor as he writhed and sobbed in Terry’s grasp. He knew right then that he’d never see again. Terry felt like he’d lost his son all over again, and so he cried when the boy could not.

*** Three months after the accident***

Laudanum is a tincture of opium and alcohol, and is often used, recreationally, with hard liquor. It is an incredibly addictive reddish brown liquid, and some of the stuff sat in a snuff glass on Matt's nightstand. His head was hunched over his bare curved body. Some scars laced his back from days gone past, and the most recent scar was ever present, as it always would be. Matt lifted his head into the smokey air, his face bore the burned stains of a splash mark, splayed across his nose and eyes; they were a cold white, inattentive to the world. He grasped the glass of liquid dreams, and brought it to his lips. He tilted his head back and some of it dripped into his mouth when the door of his room was opened. Matt took the glass from his mouth and set it back on the nightstand. Karen Page stood in the doorway, her hands placed firmly on her hips. Her blue eyes pierced through the smoky darkness. Karen walked into the room and opened the window blinds, releasing the bright, mid-day sunlight into the room. Matt could feel the heat of the sun on his forearms and across his collar bone. He quietly sat as Karen walked around the room, picking up bottles of liquor, loose clothes, and dishes. She took them from the room, purposefully ignoring Matt, and into the living room. Matt grabbed the Laudanum from the night table and sipped it. He was flushed with euphoria, then relief, then memories, then sadness, then shame, and finally anger. He smashed the glass on the nightstand next to him, breaking it utterly. His hand was immediately cut up, some rogue shards managed to cut is forearm slightly as well. Matt could feel the warm, sticky, liquid on his hand and arm, and was thrown back into sadness. He could sense the long corrupted tendrils of insanity creep up beside him as Karen entered the room again, annoyed. She looked at Matt’s hand in shock, completely confused about what’d happened, she quickly left the room. Matt stood, mostly naked, and began on his way to the bathroom. Karen bumped into him as he tried to leave his room, medical supplies flying from her hands; she allowed a small scream of shock to escape her mouth. “Get back in bed.” Karen said, after picking the medical supplies from the floor. Matt stood in the doorway, his eyes blankly staring at the space above her head. “I can take care of it.” He said softly. “There’s fucking glass in the cuts, just let me help you!” she almost yelled but managed to keep her voice down. Karen pushed Matt back into the room. She led him to the bed and sat him down. He was silent, tears welled in his eyes and he wasn’t sure why. Karen began removing the glass from Matt’s cut up hand, then cleaning it. He was able to keep the tears from falling. “I could have handled this on my own.” “You can’t even handle getting high on that antiquated shit alone.” She began applying the bandage. “You should really slow down on that stuff.” Matt didn’t respond. “I come in here in the morning and you’ve already had a glass…” “Why do you come here?” Karen stopped what she was doing, stared into the almond shaped orbs of white. She didn’t quite know what to make of the statement. After Matt was released from the hospital Karen started dropping in to clean up after Matt, feed him, clean him, and most importantly, love him. The two had been going out for about three months prior to Matt losing his sight. Karen stepped up to the plate with magnificent grace and dignity. So, when Matt asked her the question, she made an insult of it. She stood, letting the bandage unravel at her feet. “What are you talking about? I come here because I want to help you.” She said, before walking to the door and turning on her heels. “You goddamn asshole. If you think I come here so you can just insult me, then fuck me like some street corner slut you have another thing coming!” Matt stood quickly, furry in his blind eyes, “I never said that, Karen.” “It’s the shit you don’t say that’s more fucked up.” This time she yelled “I’m sorry.” Is all he could manage. “Oh, yeah. So you just apologize and what? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Take all your shit then brush it off?” Matt remained quiet. “You just want to me fall into your arms?” Karen walked forward to push Matt on the bed, anger streaming from her cold, blue eyes. Matt suddenly saw the outline of what he knew Karen to look like. He smiled for a moment, caught one of Karen’s flailing hands. She looked up at him, her bright blues reflecting the beating sun, scowled, and started slapping Matt in the head. “You cocky bastard.” The thoughts in Matt’s head raced a mile a minute. What was that? Was it a flashback? A hallucination? Can the blind sometimes catch glimpses of the world? Whatever the case, he would have to do plenty of research. Matt grabbed Karen’s other hand from the air and wrapped her arms around him. Her pallid cheek met Matt’s hard chest and for a while she was still angry. Then she noticed that their heartbeats were in-synch, then she wasn’t so angry. Matt fell to the bed hugging Karen, they sat there for a few moments. Karen stared at the slowly setting sun, Matt couldn’t help but continue running the questions in his head. Soon Karen and Matt were kissing, then they were laying down, passion overtaking them.

[Eru Iluvatar]

Player Name: Eru Iluvatar

Character You Wish To Play: Karnak

Moral Alignment: Hero

Affiliation: Inhumans

Character Origin & Backstory: Karnak was born some time ago, when the self-named Inhumans were at the peak of their diversity and obscurity. The son of a priest, Mander, and an ocean biologist, Azur, and nephew to the once ruler of the Inhumans - Karnak was born into royalty. He suffered no troubles or aggression from others during his upbringing, and the advanced and mystifying machinery littered throughout the palace of Attilan were made readily available to him. Karnak proved from a young age how naturally smart he was, mastering the technicalities of such machines quickly and delving into various subsects of learning, such as geography, mathematics, and combat, while others his own age were still struggling with basic science and language. He studied in his father's religious Tower of Wisdom, where alongside general subjects Karnak was taught of cosmic deities and the religious outlook on factors such as chance, morality, and many others. Karnak was tattooed heavily on his forehead around to the back of his neck before his teenage years, showing apparent signs that he was a member of Mander's Order of Wisdom and a man of good morale and empathy. Though not entirely believing it as his father and other pious individuals did, the teachings still had a drastic effect on Karnak's life and pattern of thinking. Though very intelligent and skilled in fighting, Karnak was relatively anti-social. He chose not to attend mass events or communicate with the general populace of the Great Refuge, instead only speaking to his family - and he spoke little even to them. Karnak believed only he himself could understand his ways of thinking and progression, and so he decided not to study other people's various personalities or levels of intelligence.

Cataclysmic events occurred for Karnak on his eighteenth year. His mother died mysteriously in an ambitious oceanic foray, further severing Karnak's void of sociality. Azur has been one of the few that Karnak truly trusted and loved, and he vowed then to discover one day what had happened to his mother out at sea. It was customary for Inhumans with known latent genes to undergo the process of Terrigenesis, that is, being exposed to ancient mists of an unknown origin to all but the ruler of the Inhumans. This process changed the subject, whether marginally or drastically, in both physical or mental ways, ultimately revealing the Inhuman's true form. Some were awarded wings, or had their mental ability greatly reduced, or were granted extra-sensory sight in return for losing the use of their natural eyes. Karnak was happy as he was, but due to the compulsory tradition he acquiesced and endured Terrigenesis.

Karnak emerged an enhanced being. He had acquired greatly increased strength, speed, and endurance. His reflexes had been unnaturally improved, allowing him to anticipate and counter almost any move in a combat situation, and to go along with it Karnak became much more flexible, bestowing upon him moderate levels of contortion and acrobatics. Most importantly, however, was the skill of stress point detection acquired by Karnak. This was an extra-sensory ability that revealed to Karnak any object or person's greatest area of weakness, be it physical or psychological. From this Karnak could apply pressure to the point, thereby destroying presumably unbreakable materials, or breaking down a person mentally with mere words. Karnak worked on and mastered this skill, and the mental discipline he attuned to it made it virtually effortless for Karnak to use. He changed finally in his facial area. Though it didn't increase his formidable intelligence, Karnak's skull grew upwards, bestowing upon him a huge forehead. This change erased any hair he had, though it strangely affected his tattoos - stretching and morphing them to match the shape of his altered head. After Terrigenesis, Karnak was placed in a position of importance in the Inhuman hierarchy. He was a supervisor and benefactor to the scientific advancements of Attilan, and he was prominent in his father's Order of Wisdom also. Karnak was one of the first notified if a physical threat approached the Great Refuge, he could then utilise his unbelievable combat abilities out in the field.

Powers and Abilities: Enhanced strength, speed, durability, endurance, flexibility, stress point detection, formidable intelligence.

Sample Story Arcs:
Death at Sea - Focusing on the unrevealed reasons behind Azur, Karnak's mother's, death. Might just be a tie in with the Atlanteans and Lemurians, and maybe the Serpent Crown? Would maybe need somebody roleplaying Namor, however.
Attilan Under Siege - Focusing on humanity's discovery of the Inhumans and the inevitable hostilities that come with it. Similar to Inhumans by Paul Jenkins and Jae Lee.
Rogue / Evil Inhumans - A rogue or evil group of Inhumans could leave the Great Refuge and emerge into human society, sowing terror and death throughout the less advanced race. Karnak could be sent out into the world to end their threat to humanity, by any means...

Sample Post: Everything has a weakness.

Seemingly invincible dictators, ferocious beasts, the very earth itself, Gods... Everything.

Karnak sat cross-legged in the centre of an antique carpet, woven ages ago by deceased Inhuman seamstresses. The embroidery detailed the process of Terrigenesis, showing a naked man and then a woman pass through the shrouding Terrigen Mists. The man emerged a king, regal in his appearance, aura and mentality. The woman emerged a great beast, one resembling the fabled monsters of humanity's past. If this were a human creation, the king would have been struck by fear, naturally threatened by one whom was too different to himself. The king would have slain the beast and be honoured for it. However, this was an Inhuman creation, the society that embraced diversity and were enhanced by it. The detailing ended with the king and the female beast retaining their love for each other and exiting the Terrigen chamber hand in claw. Karnak sat still, unmoving, his eyes closed and in a state of meditation. This time was part of the precious few hours that Karnak had free in the day - his position required constant reliance in many situations and so he was forever on call. The Inhuman's large cranium was constantly at work also. He indirectly picked up multiple detections from all objects in the small room. The extra-sensory skill granted to him through his Terrigenesis never slept, especially not since the mental honing Karnak had subjected himself to in order to improve his abilities. It was a ubiquitous influx of thought that Karnak had had to deal with. The middle of the front right leg of the chair. The centre point of the tapestry. Below the faint crack in the large wooden door. And Karnak himself... well, the first point of the mental improvement had been directed towards a passive immunity for himself to the power. Karnak preferred not to know his own inherent weakness, because if he did it would haunt him - and he would be unable to do anything until he fixed this problem. Yet, everything has a weakness, and everything has to have a weakness, so Karnak could not do that to himself. Before he could think any further, a knock reverberated from the door through the room.
"Come." Karnak spoke softly, he knew that the Inhuman on the other side of the door would hear him. The large wood door opened slightly, and a man in the guise of a young child slipped in. Terrigenesis had gifted him two gaping holes at the sides of his head, and now he heard most everything, no matter how quiet.
"Master Karnak, your presence is requested at the Council with the other Order members." The man's voice had risen in pitch since his transformation, effectively travelling back through time to the man's childhood.
"Tell them I will not be attending this pointless convergence. Honestly, why we have to meet every three days, I-"
"With all due respect, Master, they... they were quite insistent." Karnak swung his head around. The man child avoided his eyesight. He had been definitely more confident before his transformation.
"Now that," The Inhuman said, swiftly rising to his feet, "Is peculiar."

[Nightraider]

Player Name: NightRaider Character: Taskmaster Aliases/Nicknames: Anthony “Tony” Masters, Captain Masters, the “Minister of Defence” Alignment: Good (WTL) Affiliation: S.H.I.E.L.D. Character Origin:

Fog of War

Anthony Masters remembers very little of his own life. From what he has gathered from service files, he has served with the military and S.H.I.E.L.D. all of his adult life. He served in the US military in 1990s, particularly in the Gulf War. When he showed a perchance for stealth and close-combat in the field, he graduated from basic infantry to Covert Ops over his tenure and upon returning home from service, was offered a place at S.H.I.E.L.D. where he ran several successful missions. His most recent run was an undercover stint in the Crime Syndicate in New York, where he gathered valuable intel on the gang’s current objectives. Prior to the incident that lead to his condition, he had just begun serving as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s chief hand-to-hand trainer.

The Task at Hand

The reason for the gaps in his memory is from an experimental serum, originally developed during WWII, which was modified by S.H.I.E.L.D. using notes of the original Super Soldier program. Masters volunteered to be the test subject. Repeated testing showed that Masters had developed the ability to memorise and duplicate any person’s movements merely by watching them. The side effects of the experiment were that this memorisation ability came at the cost of his personal memory. Masters began forgetting where he was, what the testing was for, even who he was. In order to bypass this, S.H.I.E.L.D. inserted a syntho-organic, micro-data storage device into his brain, that was linked to it but could not store or erase new memories from it, only access the ones stored on it. Masters has direct access to this device so he can manage what specific memories he retains. As a result, Masters requested that he put back on active duty under the new code name: Taskmaster.

Taskmaster Data Storage Unit Summary (Taskmaster Eyes Only)

Personal Information

My name is Anthony Masters. I’m currently 32 years old. My birthday is February 24th. I am a former US Army soldier and Special Covert Operations operative. I joined the Army when I was 19 and served as a S.C.O. when I was 25. Look up “Masters Service Record” in S.H.I.E.L.D. database for full details. Both my parents are dead. They were killed in a house-fire when I was serving overseas. Their names were Bill and Virginia Masters. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. as the head CQB trainer and currently work in the field under the codename: Taskmaster.

Tactical Information

Reason for memory loss: memory override due to possession of my photographic reflex power. This power was gained upon injection of a serum that granted these powers. Fighting Styles saved and filed for later use: Wing Chun Savate Capoeira Karate Muay Tai Sambo Judo Aikido Jiu-Jitsu Fencing Kyudo Camouflage Stealth techniques Canne de combat Armament Marksmanship Recently discovered ability to mimic others voices. Must investigate further.

Powers and Abilities:

1. Photographic Reflex Memory: Ability to duplicate almost any physical act that he sees done by someone else only once. This includes combat movements, sleight of hand, practice-based exercises (e.g. piano), marksmanship, archery, gymnastics and aerobatics. A side effect of the photographic reflex is that the speed at which the techniques are observed can affect his movements, increasing in velocity, giving him a burst of near-superhuman speed. He has also discovered that he can copy the vocal muscle movements of others to mimic their voice patterns. 2. Superior Athletic Capabilities: Taskmaster is a naturally athletic individual who has trained his body to near peak-perfection, even rivalling many superpowered heroes and villains in terms of athleticism and physical conditioning. 3. Expert Tactician: His years of Army, Covert and S.H.I.E.L.D. service have shown Masters a myriad of different tactical strategies and procedures. 4. Equipment: Taskmaster utilises a variety of S.H.I.E.L.D. tech, depending on the mission at hand. No matter the mission, he always carries the same equipment: a pair of SW1911, custom-built in black often with silencers attached and a modern double-edged shortsword, based on the classical xiphos used by the Greeks, updated with a modern grip and metal blade,a mix of titanium and secondary adamantium for cost-effectiveness. He also wears a custom bodysuit uniform, made of a prototype fibre mix similar to Kevlar but much thinner and elastic to allow easier hand-to-hand combat. Taskmaster made some personal modifications to the suit, reinforcing the forearm and shin pads to allow harder strikes and protect better when blocking. He also added a face mask to hide his identity, induce fear in his rivals and because one of his pupils thought “thought it looked cool”.

Weaknesses:

1. Full Physical Duplication: Taskmaster cannot copy a feat that requires a power to accomplish. E.g. he may observe someone lifting a huge weight and be able to duplicate the correct movements but cannot replicate the superhuman strength to fully accomplish the act. 2. Energy/Projectile Duplication: Cannot duplicate any energy/projectile capabilities for the same underlying reasons. 3. Underlying Disciplines: He can mimic certain actions but not actions that occur after or are connected to the action. For example, he can mimic a dive into water but not how to swim (unless he observes the swimming action) or mimicking a song that he observed on the piano but he cannot compose his own as he does not know the musical scales. 4. Random Amnesia: When Taskmaster copies a new action, it copies over old personal memories (except those saved in his organo-drive) However the organo-drive can only hold a small amount of information as, due to the intricacy of the surgical procedure, the device could not be that large. So if Taskmaster learns new information, then duplicates a new action, this may copy over the new information. The override is random in what memories it goes over.

Why do I want to play this character?:

While I love the mainstream superpowered characters like anyone else, I love 2 other types of characters in the Marvel (and indeed, the overall comic) Universe: the lesser known superpowered characters (such as Deadpool) and the characters that have nothing but their wits and maybe a slight edge. I feel Taskmaster fits into the former. I became fascinated with Taskmaster after learning of him through the Deadpool comics. I feel he would be an excellent character to play in the roleplay as his backstory is very vague and he is one character who has not been revisited and rehashed to death, meaning many avenues have not been explored and I intend to do this.

What do I plan on doing with the character:

Not giving too many details away, I plan to reinvent Taskmaster as a “good” but more in the vein of the down-and-dirty hero, the antithesis of Captain America, the hero who does what needs to be done for the good of everyone.

Sample post:

His eyes jerked open suddenly, his whole body shaking as his brain jumped back into the realm of consciousness. He tried raising his arms, feeling they were heavy. He looked down and saw straps wrapped around his wrists, securing him to the metallic chair. He tugged helplessly, the chair bolted to the floor, a blank steel table in front of him. Panic rose in his chest, his head darting side to side and taking in his surroundings. The room was dark, covered in shadows except for the area around the table, which was glowing with a white light, highlighting every feature in his eye line. His breathing quickened with each new question that crossed his mind: Where am I? Who’s taken me? Why? Then a more terrifying question popped up, causing him to go rigid with fear: Who am I? That’s when the screaming started. He tugged and rocked in the immovable chair, screaming for help at the top of his lungs. “Help!! Someone help me please?! Where am I?!” A door behind him opened, flooding the wall in front of him with light. A mirrored panel stretching the wall gave him a glimpse of himself. He had short, jet black hair and a stark red bruise on his cheek. The door closed just as quickly as it opened. A sharp set of footsteps approached him from behind, stepping around him and sat down across from him. The man who sat in front of him was quite plain. He was wearing a dark suit, white under shirt and red tie. His hair was combed back and he wore a small United States flag lapel on his jacket collar. He looked him straight in the eye and smiled lightly. “Do you know who I am?” He tugged at his bonds as he begged for his freedom. “Please, just let me go. Who are you?” The strange man continued to speak. “Do you know who you are?” He began to panic as the strange man somehow knew what had happened to him, probably even caused it somehow. “What did you do to me? Can you reverse it? Please…” He continued to waffle for his life, his release or anything he wanted. The strange man laid out the file that was in his hands and watched him continue to struggle. After several minutes, he placed his hands on the table and quietly said just 3 words. “Tony, please stop.” Tony stopped struggling in his chair, staring at the man sitting across from him. The stranger had said the name so calmly and assuredly, it sparked something in his mind, a sense of…familiarity. “Is…is that my name? Tony? Who are you? Where am I?!” “I’m Agent Jacob Strzeszewski. I’m the Head of Special Internal Operations for S.H.I.E.L.D. You’re currently at the Triskelion, the operations centre of S.H.I.E.L.D. Do you remember how you got here?” Tony shook his head. That’s when he heard a noise behind him, a soft shuffling of feet. There was another person in the room with them. They moved around behind Jacob, sticking to the shadows. Tony called at the man in the shadows. “Please, I just want to know what’s going on?!” The man stepped out, the light flooding every feature. The man was grizzled, his face covered in old scratches and scars. A long, black leather jacket draped his shoulders and trailed along the floor as he stepped out from the darkness. His jet black hair had the vaguest trace of grey and a large black eye patch covered his right eye. The uncovered left was fixed on Tony. “You’ve been through a rough patch, kid, but you’re safe now.” “Who are you? What are you going to do to me?” The man in the jacket smirked, reached forward and slid the open file across to Tony. The file had his picture and his full name with a classified stamp: ‘Anthony Masters’ “The name’s Colonel Nick J. Fury…and we’re going to give you a second chance.”

Sample Arcs: The Patriot Act: USAgent, Union Jack and Patriot are a rogue SHIELD team that possess tech and a experimental form of the Super Soldier Serum, that only has a short lifespan and have gone dark... The Meta-Game: Taskmaster starts dealing with emerging new mutants/villains: Gravity, Hood, Typhoid Mary etc. Weapon Plus Program: Information on a Canadian bio-weapon program involving mutants has reached the desk of Nick Fury and he's sent Taskmaster to investigate and deal with the various "weapons" the program has lost control of. replace white mask with…

[McHaggis]

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[The New Yorker]

Player Name: The New Yorker Character Name: Blackagar Boltagon Moral Alignment: Hero Affiliations: The Inhumans

Character Bio & Background At what some considered the new height of Attilan culture and societal stability, two of the greatest and most powerful minds bore a child, one of limitless potential and ability even so young as he was. His mother Rynda, Director and first chair of the prenatal care center and Queen of the Inhumans, had organized a project to subject her unborn child, still but an embryo, to the mutagenic effects of Terrigenisis. The baby was born with the unwieldy ability to absorb and disperse the electron energy around him. In order to protect the baby and others around him, Blackagar was put into a hyper isolation chamber and settled into an energy harness. This is where he would be raised for the next 15 years in relative ease, learning to control his powers along with everything else the Inhuman heir apparent learns. This is where his story of achievement and success ends. Unbeknownst to the prodigal son, sheltered deep within the Attilan Royal chambers, he had a brother, indeed, a twin brother. Maximus was paraded about as a trophy. He was smart, powerful, sophisticated, and docile, easily brought out during speeches or feasts. Everyone knew, however, that Maximus was just the opening act, simply an appetizer for the main course. Indeed, everyone knew this, except Blackagar himself. Max became thoroughly unhappy with his lot in life, his hampered dreams and aspirations. He’d been doing research, using his uncanny powers of mind control and astral projection in order to delve deep into the darkest secrets Attilan had to offer. And at the center of it, he found the Kree. Maximus conspired throughout his adolescence to find some way to usurp his brother’s position, and perhaps even that of his parent’s. Max learned that the tales and legends of Attilan being the Great Refuge, a totally isolated nation, were complete fabrications. The Inhumans and the Humans roamed the lands together at one point, indeed, some still do. So why should they be allowed to flourish beyond the confines of the bubble and Max could not? So, he devised a terrible plot to exploit this web of lies. If the people of Attilan were content with delusions and false pretenses, Maximus could provide better than anyone. Max went about signaling the Kree to the Inhuman’s location. He did so in such a way that the Kree would be at a disadvantage when they arrived, doubling down on his own people by warning them before-hand. When the exploratory forces of the Kree landed in the Atlanitc they were met by a bevy of some of the most powerful members of the Royal family and their companions. Max was among them. He controlled the battle like a marionettist, making sure both his mother and father were critically wounded, but also making sure the Kree were forced to flee. With the first strike of the invasion out of the way, the King and Queen in dire conditions, and Maximus coming out victorious, all that is left is to occlude Blackagar. With each attentive and caring mind clouded by Maximus’ incredible mental abilities, he is able to take the throne at the age of 16. With this seat of power Maximus is able to keep his parents disabled and unconscious while his brother is locked in a cell no one knows of. For five years he rules, and no one seems to notice that he’s not supposed to be there. Perhaps because of how easy everything is. Perhaps it’s because the Kree threat is behind them and in front of them at equal measure. Max cares not as he sips wine from his gilded cup in the throne room. He makes trips to the surface every few months without anyone noticing—well, almost anyone. The irony of the situation is that Maximus revealed himself and his plot to his brother, letting him rot in the cell with only his thoughts and a few scraps a week to feed him. Any attempt Maximus made to control his brother failed, as did his attempts to impose amnesia. For five years Blackagar lives in a darkly lit chamber, fastened tightly into an energy harness. He meditates in order to stay calm, retrieve sweet memories of when his parents would come to visit him. For five years he lives in exile in the Royal chambers. All the while he is periodically taken care of by his first cousin Medusa, a beautiful girl with the sweetest caring eyes, and rolling hills of crimson hair. On Blackagar’s 21st birthday Medusa is sent to feed the young man, usually aided by Maximus, who wipes her mind afterwards. This time, however, Maximus rushes off on an expedition to the Antarctic, leaving the two together without surveillance. On this day Blackagar will finally be free. Powers and abilities Ambient Particle & Electron Harnessing: Black Bolt's primary superhuman ability is the power to harness electrons. The speech center of his brain contains a unique organic mechanism that's able to generate an unknown particle that interacts with the electrons he absorbs to create certain phenomena that are determined by his mental control.

Hider

 Quasi-Sonic Scream: Black Bolt's most devastating offensive weapon, and one of the phenomena based upon the particle interaction, is his actual voice. A whisper can level a city, cause distant dormant volcanoes to become active once more, shake entire continents apart and generate tremors on the far side of the planet. A hypersonic shout has been said to generate enough force to destroy planets. Due to the constant and extreme danger posed by his voice, he has undergone rigorous mental training to prevent himself from uttering even the smallest sound, even while asleep. Recently it has been shown that Black Bolt's scream is tied into his emotions, especially anger. This in turn would mean that the power of his scream would depend on his emotional state in at least some way. It would explain the somewhat significant difference of the power released by his quasi-sonic scream.  Particle & Electron Channeling: Black Bolt wears a metallic, fork-shaped antenna upon his brow that allows him to focus and channel his powers in more directed and less destructive ways. This antenna monitor's the speech center of his brain and allows him to direct quantities of the unknown particles to create controlled phenomena, such as enhancing his physical strength beyond his normal limits. He can also channel all the available energy he has into one arm for a single, massively powerful punch called the Master Blow. The exertion from this, however, taxes his ability to employ the energy to its full power for a short time.  Particle & Electron Manipulation: Black Bolt can also direct the unknown particle outwards without the use of his vocal chords. He can route the particles through his arms and create small yet vastly powerful blasts of concussive force. He can also form a field of highly active electrons around his body with a wave of his hand. This field can deflect projectiles. Black Bolt can also create enough iteration between the electron and particle energies to generate fields solid enough for him to travel over.  Matter & Energy Manipulation: Through an unknown method, Black Bolt has shown numerous times that he has the ability to manipulate matter and energy to an unknown degree. He has shown the ability to transmute the elements, turn water into ice, create multiple toys out of thin air by re-arranging the molecular structure, and was able to block the powers of others through his abilities; in turn denying them the access to their abilities.  Telepathy: Black Bolt has strong psychic resistance, as evident when he was able to easily resist the mental abilities of his powerful brother.  Anti-Gravitational Flight: Black Bolt can also harness the unknown particles his brain generates to interact with electrons to create anti-gravitons that enable him to defy gravity. By emitting a jet of rapidly moving particle / electron interaction by-product while enveloped by anti-gravitons. The anti-graviton field also serves to protect Black Bolt from the detrimental effects of rapid movement through the atmosphere although it's not necessarily needed.

Inhuman Physiology: Like all Inhumans, Black Bolt's natural physiology grants him a number of superhuman physical attributes but because of the genetic tampering before birth, Black Bolt's physical abilities are significantly superior to most other members of his race.

Hider

 Superhuman Strength: Black Bolt, like all Inhumans, is superhumanly strong. He is able to lift about 1 ton. However, he can augment his physical strength by channeling the necessary particle energy through his body.  Superhuman Speed: Black Bolt can run and move at speeds that are beyond the natural physical limits of the finest human athlete.  Superhuman Stamina: Black Bolt's Inhuman musculature generates less fatigue toxins than the musculature of a normal human, even the finest human athlete. At his peak, he can exert himself for several days before the build up of fatigue toxins in his blood begins to impair him.  Superhuman Durability: Black Bolt's body is incredibly resistant to all forms of physical damage. Black Bolt is resistant to great impact forces, such as falling from a height of several stories that would severely injure or kill a human being unharmed. Black Bolt is capable of withstanding extreme temperatures, such as the cold in space, or the heat from re-entry.  Superhuman Agility: Black Bolt's agility, balance, and bodily coordination are enhanced to levels that are beyond the natural physical limits of the finest human athlete.  Superhuman Reflexes: Black Bolt's reflexes are beyond those of the finest human athlete.  Superhuman Longevity: Like all Inhumans, Black Bolt has a natural lifespan that is at least twice the average lifespan of a human being.

Sample Story Arcs Blackness descends: Blackagar escapes from the prison his brother has made for him and frees the Attilan’s from their own mental prisons. That’s only the beginning as the Inhumans face old and new threats. Blackness repents: After picking up the pieces and retrieving lost ties, Black Bolt must find a new home for his people. Blackness ascends: The Inhumans, in their desperation and sadness, look up to the skies for a reprieve.

Sample Post

The steel barred door is flanked on either side by radiant blue neon lights, glowing somberly in dark green corridor. Medusa’s writhing plumage is shocked by the bright light, as it almost always is. She holds a silver tray in her delicate hands as a tremor passes through her body. She knows this place, her hair knows this place, yet she cannot draw that image from her memory, as if it is blocked from her. The eerie feeling followers behind her as she opens the door with a loud click and walks down the long hall. Blackagar opened one eye when he heard the sound of the door open, allowing his cold blue orb to shine in the darkness. . He could hear the footsteps, heeled and measured, nervous though, there was no second set. He knew who it was and he lifted himself from his meditation position, knees bent under him, and stood straight. Medusa appeared behind the glass pane that kept him separated from the outside. Her green eyes met his blues for a moment and she shivered somewhere inside. She coyly made her way to the door and placed the contents of the tray in the compartment there, which would subsequently deliver it to Blackagar. He ignored the food and stared at her, looking around to see if Maximus had joined her. He hadn’t. Blackagar’s black hair reached his ears and he was growing a little beard, but his blue and white harness seemed pristine. Medusa avoided eye contact for a little while, but decided that she had to look, she couldn’t bare not returning a gaze so powerful, so intent. He spoke volumes with his eyes. The pain and the anger crossed his cheeks like a scar and the sadness filled his eyes. Medusa couldn’t bare the hurt he seemed to be in, her hair reacted to him as well; each strand seemed to want to touch him. She lifted her hand to the glass and offered a sympathetic eye. Blackagar lifted his hand as well. They stared into eachother’s eyes for longer than Medusa had ever looked at anyone. She’d fallen asleep in his gaze. Then his eyes flicked, and he blinked. His boyish face came up with a troublesome look and his eyes darted off to his right. Medusa looked off to her left, exactly where he’d looked, and she noticed the keypad there. She understood what he wanted, then felt a pang of disappointment. “I don’t…” she started. Blackagar shifted his head only an inch, forced his palm against the glass, and his affects changed totally. She understood what he was saying then too, ”I will help,” is what he’d said, ”I will help you.” She nodded and he began demonstrating numbers to input.

[Dedonus]

HAWKEYE

Player Name: Dedonus
Character You Wish To Play: Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye
Moral Alignment: Hero.
Affiliation: S.H.I.E.L.D.
Character Origin & Backstory:
Clinton Barton was born to a troubled family (and that’s putting it kindly) in Waverly, Iowa. His father, Harold, was a chronic alcoholic who would beat Clint’s mother, his brother, Barney, and Clint himself. His mother was no better, as she was withdrawn and unsympathetic, seeing her husband’s abuse of her children as a victory because she was not the one at the receiving ends of Harold Barton’s blows. However, tragedy struck (or poetic justice, as Comic Vine describes it), when both Mr. and Mrs. Barton died in a car accident while Harold Barton was well over the lawful BAC.

As a result of their parents’ deaths, Clint and Barney were placed into the foster system. The Barton boys, as they were called, jumped from foster home to foster home until they were received by a certain Buck Chisholm. Unlike the previous foster homes, the two Barton boys felt welcomed and desired in the Chisholm residence. In fact, Buck and his friend, Jacques Duquesne, even allowed the two Barton boys to participate and even train for Renaissance fairs (or faires, as Buck and Jacques put it). Clint got particular attention from the two friends, as they saw real potential in Clint’s archery ability, much to the chagrin of his brother, Barney, who felt that Clint was now absorbing all the lime light from their new foster parent. Things began to look good for Clint.

That was, until a few years later Clint stumbled upon Buck and Jacques’ scheme of ripping off the fair. The two friends discovered that Clint was privy to the plot and they tried to get him to remain silent. When Clint refused, as it was the ‘right’ thing to do, Buck and Jacques brutalized him and left him for dead. If it was not for one of the other Renaissance fair actors finding the young Barton boy that night, Clint might have died that night. Once this abuse was reported to child services, the Barton boys were immediately removed from the Chisholm custody (Buck and Jacques had gone on the run prior to this) and they were placed in another foster home.

As time passed, Clint and Barney grew further apart from each other since Barney believed that Clint had betrayed their former foster parent, even though Barney was not receiving as much attention from them as Clint was. Once they went to college, they went their separate ways. Clint attended the University of Iowa (the Hawkeyes!) and continued to practice his archery skills, even joining a club team while at the University of Iowa. After he graduated from college, he was approached by S.H.I.E.L.D. and [SECTION REDACTED – S.H.I.E.L.D. PRIVACY].

Powers and Abilities:
-Master Archer: If anyone could string Odysseus’ bow, Hawkeye would be the one to do it. Through practice and dedication, Hawkeye has mastered the art of archery, allowing him to make shots that normal people could never make.

-“Bottomless Quiver”: From Taser-Arrows to Ice-Arrows to Boomerang Arrows (just for the laughs), with the resources at Clint’s disposal due to his employment at S.H.I.E.L.D., there is no limit to the kinds (and number) of arrows that Clint can use.

-Peak Human Endurance and Strength: Clint, due to his S.H.IE.L.D. training, is a fit and strong as any modern athlete. While this might not be enough to overcome superhumans, Clint is athletic enough to overcome the average person.

-Expert Acrobat: Combined with his S.H.I.E.L.D. conditioning, Hawkeye can perform acrobatic feats that most ‘normal’ people could only dream of completing. Again, just like his strength, his acrobatic skills are limited by what a fit athletic could accomplish.

Weaknesses:
-Normal Human: Hawkeye cannot take on another superhuman strength-for-strength.

-“I don’t kill”: Hawkeye follows the “Good Guy Code”. Unless it is absolutely necessary, Hawkeye never goes for the kill. Hawkeye has a record in S.H.I.E.L.D. for the number of targets that he has brought in alive.

Sample Story Arcs:
-Mockingbird: Since I figure that Black Widow would be a too ‘popular’ character to NPC at this point, I figured Mockingbird would do nicely in Black Widow’s stead.

-Hawkeye will allow me to have some direct control over S.H.I.E.L.D., which, as the GM, I probably should have.

-[WEST COAST] AVENGERS! ASSEMBLE! / Thunderbolts

Sample Post:
Hawkeye and Mockingbird stood waiting in the briefing room. These two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stood out like a sore thumb amongst the group of the other agents, since they wore colorful costumes instead of the standard gray and black shades that the other agents usually wore. Hawkeye’s attire event stood out even more than Mockingbird’s because his costume was almost entirely purple, while the later at least had dark blue accenting the white portion of her outfit. “Hey, it helps prevent friendly-fire!” Hawkeye would usually say in his defense of their fashion decisions. But in spite of the flamboyance of their apparel, Clint and Bobbi still got the job done.

Suddenly, another agent walked into the briefing room, holding several folders that he intended to issue out to the others once he had entered. Once the files and folders were passed around, the man clicked a button on a small remote that he held in his hand, causing the screen behind himself to activate. “Here is your next assignment, ladies and gentlemen.” Agent Coulson announced to his fellow agents with a confident, but calm voice. “This is David Cannon. While we do not yet know whether the X-Gene granted him powers or if he used some other means, Mr. Cannon is capable of creating a localized tornado around himself. Local authorities have been unable to stop him, so it is up to us to apprehend him. Are there any questions before we set out?”

“I have one.” Hawkeye yelled out, grinning at what he intended to say, “Are we about ready to go on a man hunt after the Tasmanian Devil?”

“Any other questions?” Rolling his eyes, Coulson obviously ignored Hawkeye’s remark about how the powers of this supervillain mirrored the abilities of the Warner Bros. cartoon character. “If not, everyone is dismissed.”

[DeathstrokeSW]

Player Name: DeathstrokeSW/DSW

Character You Wish To Play:Wilson Fisk/Kingpin

Moral Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): WTL, slowly becoming a villain

Affiliation (what group/team/organization, if any, is your character affiliated with?): Chinese Triads, Russian Mafia, personal organized crime outfit, Fisk Industries.

Character Origin & Backstory:
|Childhood|
Wilson Fisk was born in Hell's Kitchen, New York to Helen and Bill Fisk. Bill was a cruel, abusive man, a man who only lived for the public perception, for power. He was a bastard of a man, who regularly drank, and beat Wilson and Helen. Eventually, he took it upon himself to run for city council, when Fisk was 12. He became increasingly stressed, and took it out on Wilson and Helen, and in the fit of rage, Wilson killed his own father to save his mother. Helen covered it up, and Wilson was sent away to live with relatives in upstate New York, on a farm. For the next several years, Wilson lived and worked in that small town, hating every living second of it. When he was 18, he left home and went to college, where he joined the boxing team. Earning a degree in political science, he graduated summa cum laude, traveling abroad to Asia. There, he began the next phase of his life.

|Travels abroad|
It's unclear, according to the public, exactly what happened during his travels abroad in China and Japan, but what IS known, is that Fisk Industries started here, acquiring funds from investors with ties to the Yakuza and Chinese Triads, though nothing that could be concretely proven. Fisk then used these funds to start his enterprises from abroad, managing his business via telephone. It was here, in Asia, as well, that Wilson began his criminal organization, learning from the bottom up how to run organized crime, as well as innovating how it is run by his Political Science training. After building up Fisk industries as a multibillion dollar business, and several unspecified dealings in Asia, Fisk returned home, a wealthy man.

|Descent into Crime|
Fisk had been away for years now, a smart, wealthy businessman. And he loved his city, after years away, but was horrified by what his city had become. It was filthy, dying, desecrated, and Fisk knew he needed to save his city. But in order to do so, he couldn't just be a businessman, he had to dip his hands into the filth in order to wash his city clean. So he began expanding into organized crime, focusing first on his home of Hell's kitchen. Creating a small, but loyal gang, he ruled them with a fair, but sadistic fist; Failure wasn't tolerated, and neither were mistakes. Success was rewarded, Failure punished. Simple. Yet, five months later, his gang referred to him as Kingpin, and he was more than powerful; owning a senator, judges, and a large majority of the cops in Hell's kitchen. He truly was in control. But he knew even on his own, he couldn't get everything he wanted accomplished. So he began making alliances, deals with Madame Gao of the chinese triads, and Nobu of the Japanese yakuza. The Russians came in soon after, albeit much to Fisk's displeasure.

And this is where we meet him, Five months into being the Kingpin, Five years into being a covert criminal.

Powers and Abilities (What can your character do? What can't they do?): Expert Tactician: Wilson has managed to cause a fair deal of the criminal activity of Hell's Kitchen for years without revealing his identity to the public.
Expert Combatant: Fisk is a man of immense brute strength. He can lift a grown man into the air with a single arm. Despite having no formal combat training, Fisk's size and pure muscle make him a very formidable opponent. He was capable of using his strength to beat men to death with only a few hits. He is also strong enough to kill a man with only a few punches. He is also a trained boxer.
Multilingual: Fisk is fluent in English, Mandarin, and Japanese.

Sample Story Arcs: YEAR ONE: This story arc introduces Kingpin to the MU, based in New York, slowly forging his grip from the ashes of his predecessor, and dealing with new ways of handling the rising of both superhero and villain alike, while still maintaining a chokehold on street crime.
DEVIL HIS DUE: Introduces Wilson Fisk to Matthew Miyahara, the blind lawyer of Hell's Kitchen, and Daredevil both as Daredevil's own story arc culminates into a meeting with the Kingpin of Crime.
TOMBSTONE: Has Kingpin dealing with the return of the Rose, now joined by Tombstone.

Sample Post (This is used as an introduction to your writing – try to keep it to around three paragraphs or more and try to include dialogue):

The phone rings in the middle of the night, or rather, three in the morning, shrill and insistent. Fisk's eyes flutter open, and flip open the phone with a practiced ease; Late night calls are to be expected, a common occurrence for someone in his line of work. He rises from satin sheets and flips his phone open, expecting the other person to talk first.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good Morning, Wesley." Fisk's voice is low and commanding, a baritone, but not too deep. He speaks as if he's not asking for, but rather expecting respect, even from his right hand and personal assistant, Mr. James Wesley. Were one to pay attention, one would actually see that Fisk even thinks of Wesley as his friend. Possibly his only friend. It doesn't matter, either way, as Wilson has never been particularly good at making friends. He waits patiently as Wesley informs him of the morning brief; events that've happened with his organization while he slumbered.

"Sir, nothing much on the Triad's end. Gao's deliveries are on time, yet down 9%. Nobu and his men want more of the docks. Immigration and Customs Enforcement for more specific tastes. THey want a clear path to 33rd street. The Russians have been making quite a bit of fuss recently, however. They want a meeting with you personally. Today."

Wilson Fisk gives an audible sigh, and lets his brain sift through the information. Nobu...the more they asked, the more he felt like Nobu should be eliminated. But the Yakuza were men of honor, of integrity, and they'd sworn him what he asked for, in exchange for what they asked of him. And the Russians...they were a different matter entirely.

"Give the Japanese what they want, and send the Russians to the usual meeting place. I'll be there at ten." He flips the phone closed and does as he always does to start the day, making an egg roll and garnish, picking out a dark grey suit, and adding cufflinks. By the time he leaves his penthouse apartment, it's an hour and five minutes to nine o'clock.

It takes him another hour to reach the building, as is usual with New York City traffic. The building is actually a garage, one owned and operated by a subsidiary of Fisk industries, paid for by an offshore account in the caymans. His Escalade pulls into the parking lot, and he stepped out, a black overcoat buttoned up over a dark grey outfit. The two Russians before him are the Brothers. Anatoly and Vladimir. One dark haired and short, the other bleach blond and tall. Twins, they even share the same tattoos. It is Anatoly who speaks up first, differing in his demeanor than Vladimir. "Good Morning, Mister Fisk. We want to-" he is cut off by Vladimir, the angry brother. "We want some F---- ANSWERS, you bald idiot."

Anatoly is quick to backtrack, hoping to cover up his brother's mistakes with boot kissing. "What he means to say is that Madame Gao's deliveries have been...less than usual." It is here that Fisk speaks up, calm and collected. "By nine percent, according to my numbers. The real question I should be asking here, is why did you involve me instead of Madame Gao herself? Unless, of course, you're afraid of her. Fear, I find, is a completely natural response to someone as well respected as Mme.Gao. So, you involve me because you don't want the reprisal to blow back on you in its entirety. You're asking the Chinese to up their production by nine percent and get their product out on the same time. And as of late, it's not entirely feasible with all these...costumed vigilantes cavorting about. So here's what you're going to do. You're going to pull back men from the street corners and concentrate your pushers to a single city block. Limited supply, limited demand. You will cut off your current regulars in this part of town and raise the price of a single purchase by 10 percent. Or I will be back to personally handle things."

Fisk gets back into the escalade, and as they drive off, he turns back behind tinted windows to look upon the faces of Anatoly and Vladimir. What he sees makes him smirk. Anatoly has a look of fear and respect, while Vlad is simply angry beyond belief.

[SimplyJohn]

Player Name: SimplyJohn
Character You Wish To Play: Wade Winston 'Deadpool' Wilson, Merc with a Mouth, Regenerating Degenerate
Moral Alignment (Hero, Villain, Walking the Line): Leaping back and forth across the line while singing Yankee Doodle Dandy
Affiliation (what group/team/organization, if any, is your character affiliated with?): Agency X, Astonishing Avengers, Code Red, Deadpool Corps, Frightful Four, Great Lakes Initiative, Heroes for Hire, Landau, Luckman, and Lake, Maggia, Secret Defenders, S.H.I.E.L.D, Six Pack, Thunderbolts, Weapon X, X-Force, X-Men (basically anyone and everyone, and no-one, since any alliance is usually only temporary until his mental state bounces off in a whole new direction.)
Character Origin & Backstory: While suffering from cancer and having been kicked out of the United States Army Special Forces, Wade Wilson signed up for the Weapon X programme only to become the subject of horrific experiments at the hands of Department K. The result of these experiments was a cure to his cancer in the form of an incredibly enhanced healing factor which was able to continuously fight against the disease, keeping him alive, but only in the same disfigured state he was in at the point were his healing factor was triggered for the first time. After several successful missions for Department K, and some unsuccessful ones, Deadpool decided to branch out on his own, seeking the fame, money, glory and money the life of a superpowered mercenary could bring.
Powers and Abilities (What can your character do? What can't they do?):
Healing Factor
Deadpool's body is nigh indestructible and he can regenerate from any injury, in fact at one point his lost body parts were successfully stitched back together to create an 'evil' clone of himself by his crazy, stalker 'girlfriend'. His healing is considerably slower in operation than some other mutants, notably Wolverine, and it usually takes several days for Deadpool to regenerate lost limbs and other appendages. He can survive decapitation, but requires at least 17 minutes to regain consciousness after his head has regenerated, and usually requires considerably longer to be back to fighting form.
The healing factor's ability to repair neurological damage grants Wade an immunity to mind control and extreme resistance to psychic probing, although it also causes memory loss and adds to his already highly unstable mental state. It also rapidly purges his body or toxins, poisons and medications, making only extremely high doses effective against him and inebriation very, very expensive.
Killy Stuff
Deadpool has considerable experience dealing with all forms of weaponry; including swords, pistols, assault rifles, sniper rifles, grenades, missile launchers, nuclear weapons, alien technology and chimichangas (if you don't consider those weapons, try using the bathroom after him one morning!) It's very rare to catch him without at least two pistols, two katana, an assault rifle and a sniper rifle in his possession. Notably he cannot pilot aircraft of any kind, but has been known to operate space vehicles as long as someone helps him stick the right 'operational guidance' stickers on the controls to remind him which ones shoot the guns, and which let him point the guns in the right direction.
Fifth Dimensional Awareness
Deadpool is fully aware that he's a fictional character and assures me that if you don't let him join this RP he'll be paying your mother a visit with his own form of house warming gift (it's napalm!) No, it's not. It's cookies. Lovely warm, sweet-scented cookies.

Sample Story Arcs:
Wildcard
Wade's loyalty is famous, in that he has none. When the party first meet him he's just as likely to attack them as join them, and can they manage to find a way to keep him from going all choppy with them long enough to reach their objective.
Life Of The Party
While the others may have their tricks, Wade knows he's the only one who can pull off the big sensational score, and he's willing to go all the way to make sure he's not outdone by anyone. Especially Taskmaster. Escalating the situation in order to prove he's the best Deadpool will pull off the impossible, or die trying. Again.
A Face Not Even A Mother Could Love
Cursed with the mutilated face he had when his healing factor was granted to him, Wade's fully aware how repulsive he truly looks. When he's not prancing about like a clown, he's often wallowing in self-pity, made all the worse for the fact that suicide is only a temporary setback for him.

Sample Post (This is used as an introduction to your writing – try to keep it to around three paragraphs or more and try to include dialogue):
"Do we have to do this?"

Yes, just stick to the script this time and wait for your cue.

It was a quiet night, but for a change Deadpool was happy. The new series of Contest of Kings had just started up and Wade was sure they'd be announcing a royal wedding soon, which meant yet another bloodbath was on the cards. Laid back on his recliner he flicked the channels until the opening credits sprung onto the screen, the clockwork countryside rolling past as the theme music started up.

"Bom Bom Da Da Bom Bom Da Da Bom Bom..." He began to sing, sitting forwards with excitement.

Suddenly his magnificent rendition was silenced by the buzzing of the doorbell. Peering over to it, his eyebrow raised under his mask Wade asked himself if they were expecting anyone. How should we know? He asked back, You never tell us anything.

Quickly jumping up from his seat he stomped over to the door, pulling out his trustiest Glock as he did. Whoever it was wouldn't be much of an interruption for long. Peering through the peephole, his pistol levelled at the door, Wade carefully eyed his uninvited guest, only to see the pizza delivery guy waiting patiently on the doorstep. Is that the usual guy? He asked himself. Looks like him, he replied. It's the right uniform, at least, he interjected cautiously. As his eyes peered down through the fisheye lens Deadpool's attention was drawn to the steaming pizza box, and he felt his belly rumble.

Coming to a decision Wade thumbed the firing pin on his pistol carefully, uncocking the hammer before pulling the door open with a flourish. The pizza guy jumped back, his face twisting with fearful anticipation for what might happen next. Three of the last four guys to make deliveries here had come back with injuries and had had to spend the night in hospital, but the fourth had received a $500 tip so he wasn't sure what to expect.

"Umm... double cheese, extra pepperoni, hold the anchovies..?" The man asked carefully, watching the costumed loon through the corner of his eye.

Hey, I like the anchovies... he whined as Deadpool reached over for his wallet, sitting on a nearby dresser. Well none of us do, so you'll have to settle for the pepperoni instead, he retorted. Pulling a bundle of notes from the leather pouch Deadpool thrust them into the delivery guy's hands and slammed the door in his face.

Quickly bouncing back to his lounger Deadpool dropped into his seat just in time to catch glimpse of breasts disappearing offscreen. With a disappointed sigh he lifted his pistol and pointed it towards the door, letting off a round. A moment later he smiled as the scream of the injured delivery man echoed up the corridor. Payback's a bitch, he told himself. Sure is, he replied.

[Eru Iluvatar]

Player Name: Eru Iluvatar

Character You Wish To Play: Zebediah Killgrave [The Purple Man]

Moral Alignment: Villain

Affiliation: Currently the Shadow Conquerors

Character Origin & Backstory: Before gaining queer superhuman abilities, Zebediah Killgrave was a Sokovian born spy and espionage agent. An influx of quality training had found him in the eastern European country. His father was a hired thug and his mother a pole dancer, yet coincidentally they both worked indirectly for a group of shadowy and relatively powerful people, whom had under their employ an elite strike force - whose task it was to establish and maintain the mysterious syndicate as the ostentatious rulers of Sokovia, and eventually beyond that also. They were to go about eliminating competition and assassinating prominent political figures in the country that were potentially threatening to the syndicate's aims. After Zebediah's father was killed in the raid of a rival faction's base, the then young child was taken by the employers of his father. Killgrave did not know what happened to his mother after his abduction, but it mattered little - he had a new, if brutal and unforgiving, family now. Several key skills and traits were developed in Zebediah from a young age to the apex of his teenage years - most notably the arts of stealth, firearm marksmanship and infiltration. Though the select few others trained by the strike force may have been overall better at combat and assassination, Killgrave was a natural master of espionage and acting. Zebediah could don a completely new persona as easily as one might put on different pairs of shoes - needless to say many targeted groups and organisations were oft taken down from the inside rather than the outside. By the time the deceiving Sokovian had reached his late twenties, he was an irreplaceable part of the syndicate - now calling themselves The Shadow Conquerors - and the ringleaders of the ambitious group saw it fit to assign Killgrave an important task. The President of Sokovia and his government had ostensibly become aware of an organisation seeking to overthrow him, and they were acting with impulsiveness. An inside man of the Shadow Conquerors within the royal government had knowledge that the President was shipping in ample defences against oppressors, as well as expensive experimental weapons with potentially super-powerful abilities. He was also beginning an endeavour into strengthened security, which meant extensive background checks and interviews. Apparently, the President was scared, and he was wasting no time in preparing himself against the rising syndicate.

The leaders of the Shadow Conquerors, however, also used their time and resources wisely. A new position within the government had recently been drafted, and the man who came into the job only days before was mostly unknown to the bulk of the royalty. The same inside man who had provided the intel on the incoming weaponry had already introduced a knife into the man's throat, which meant there was a position for a man to traverse the government buildings unnoticed until the replacement was identified. A position Zebediah Killgrave with his talents could make effective use of...

Powers and Abilities: A trained marksman, adept at accuracy and stealth. High quality level of physical ability. A master of acting and espionage. [Iconic powers to be established in first few posts.]

Sample Story Arcs:
An Influential Tongue - The experimentation and consequences of Killgrave using his new-found power.
The Shadow Conquers - The fleshing out and monumental step in power of the murderous syndicate. Zebediah may or may not oppose them, and they could take over Sokovia for good.
A Purple Insanity - Focusing on the devastating changes to Killgrave's life and likely the fundamental motivations for his villainous alignment.

Sample Post: "Some information has arisen which may be useful to you and to us as a whole, Shadow." The heavily built and balding man droned. He sat before Zebediah Killgrave in a battered leather chair, which was fragmented by thin rips across the fabric's surface, most likely from the irritable picking of a man's hand over years of pondering and plotting. Killgrave was impressed, as many officials of the syndicate that he faced were clearly intimidated by the mysterious Sokovian. It was an aura that Zebediah had learnt in the midst of his training - he knew the exact position and expression needed to convey an untargetable threat across to his conversational partner. It was mostly about shoulder tensing and eye movement. However, Ivan Jankovic was a man of experience, and one with a formidable defence against the subtle battles of conversation.

"I wish to be of use as best I can, sir." Killgrave replied steadily, putting across mainly a sense of obedience.

"And we have seen that your best is a damned sight better than anyone else's at your position," The colonel kept his eyes fixed on a flurry of papers across his desk, whether choosing to avoid Killgrave's eyesight or not the spy did not know, "We have a more... fitting occupational area for you to reside in."

"Oh?" Zebediah replied, adding a hint of curiousness to his tone. Of course he knew what the Conqueror was going to say because of the reason being that nobody would for long waste his skill in strike force of an incredible calibre.

"There is a certain development taking place in a secure government facility that only you could take part in for us. There are those among us who have seen your tendency towards stealth and trickery as opposed to that of blunt force, and these skills will be absolutely vital in this circumstance. You do this for us, and I'll make sure you are awarded a position of power in the Shadow Conquerors, with your own subsidiaries. It should make life much more comfortable when you are at headquarters."

"And what does this assignment entail?"

"Espionage, sabotage, possible confrontations with armed and alert government officials. You'll only have a short time to pull this off, and from the intel we've gathered it's gonna decide the outcome of our little standoff with the President and his lackeys. Our inside man, Potter, says they're bringing in some kind of experimental nerve gas, capable of God knows what. It can't be good for us any way. There's a position temporarily available but the ruse will wear off when you get close to the cargo. We need you to gain access to the area - which is half a building and an open courtyard out of your clearance, by the way, and unload whatever containers of this gas you can upon the bastards. This'll make it so they have nothing to oppose us with." Ivan pushed himself and his chair away from the old desk abruptly, rising to his feet as he did. "Potter can give you the specifics when you're there. So what do you say?" He grunted and swallowed with a slight sign of difficulty. Zebediah could tell he had been drinking and was putting some effort into maintaining an air of sobriety and superiority.
Concerned about me when I am at this position? Fascinating. The conniving man thought to himself.
Of course this was exactly what Killgrave needed to rise to prominence within the syndicate. Zebediah cast a slight smirk to his clean shaven face while looking Jankovic right in the eye.

"When do I leave?"

[Sep]

Player Name: Sep
Character You Wish To Play:Robert "Bruce" Banner / Hulk
Moral Alignment: Bruce Banner - Heroic, he holds to strong Heroic Ideals. Hulk - WTL. He isn't a hero he just wants to be left alone.
Affiliation: None, on the Run. Eventually S.H.I.E.L.D / Avengers
Character Origin & Backstory:

Bruce Banner

Bruce (The Robert often being forgotten) was always an intellectual child. With a scientist father and a stay at home mother he had the capability for a regular childhood. However even then he was being set up with an alter Ego. His father was often abusive, memories that he would often repress and while that in itself isn't extraordinary it is what his Father was doing to him behind the scenes that was what created the Hulk. His father a brilliant science in the field of radiation was often exposed to it in his daily life. Shielding was inadequate and without knowing he would become irradiated, that radiation he would pass onto everything around him. However these doses were not enough to be of concern.

It was when S.H.I.E.L.D used his father to study an strange crystal that killed all those who came in contact with it. They felt that they could use it to become the next major weapon, however before they could perform any tests Bruces dad mysteriously disappeared with a copy of the material. Despite the man hunts he has never been seen since, and all that remained was the grave of his Wife and his now parent-less Son. He went on to study, without knowing it becoming a child prodigy of his father.

Years later he would go on to become the lead scientist at the very base his dad had once worked at, on the very same material that his dad worked on. Finally making a bomb it was ready for testing, however as luck would have it the science was not right. The yield far greater than to be expected the bomb blew up, and the blast radius extended to the facility where they were monitoring the test. Nobody is really sure why, be it through some bioligical freak miracle or something deeper Banner survived the explosion, waking up miles away with no recollection what happened.

The Hulk

Born on the day of the accident the Hulk and Banner have had a very strenuous relationship, to say the least. After being blamed for the explosion, due to the fact he survived, that claimed a military base Banner has been hunted. On the first occasion where the police caught him he is seen on Camera transforming into the Hulk and tearing the police vehicles to shreds, without killing anyone. They now believe they have the possibility of an even better weapon on their hands. Though Banner and Hulk have other problems.

Hulk sees Banner as puny, and just wants to be left alone. From the world, even from Banner. Despite the rage within him he often seems to be more at peace with most animals than with people... for whatever reason. Yet at the same time him and Banner are connected and to be left alone he cannot exist all the time so he often allows the transformation to occur only when Banner needs the Hulk to survive. Banner himself just wants to clear his name, and fears what the military could do with a power such as the Hulk. Having brief recollections of some of the feats, and seeing on the news, what he can do. He also wants to know what kind of relationship truly exists between the two of them.

It is an uneasy alliance, the balance of which is often tipped one way or another however with more and more heroes emerging it is time for the Hulk to find his place in the world, or leave it.

Powers and Abilities:

Bruce Banner

Super Genius-Level Intellect: Doctor Bruce Banner is a super-genius in nuclear physics, possessing a mind so brilliant that it cannot be measured by any known intelligence test. Banner is regarded by Tony Stark as the greatest nuclear scientist on Earth.

Self-Restraint: When Banner is the Hulk he can influence the Hulk's behavior only to a very limited extent.In a kind of "Hulk/Banner" hybrid. It is unsure on how much they can influence eachother currently.

Hulk

Transformation: In times of great stress, rage, fear or anything that hormonally increases heart rate and increases physical abilities in normal human beings instead transforms him into the Hulk. However as he can transform in times of calm (later, not currently) this indicates that there is something physological as well as physical. Due to the reaction being often related to stress it is almost night impossible to physically wound him without the Hulk appearing.

It is not known how but when his rage subsides, or the "Hulk" relinquishes control or some unknown reasons the extra bodymass he gains during transformation is lost. As the Hulk his skin turns green and he turns into a 8'8", 2,400 lb goliath.

Strength: Hulk is best known for his strength that can affect his entire body. Though this is said to be almost unlimited due to varying factors such as the Hulks rage/stress/excitedness or indeed Gamma Radiation or Dark Magic fuels his strength. Though the physche of Bruce Banner can also affect the Hulk and can limit the Hulks strength, which is why the Hulk never actually kills anyone. Despite this the more enraged Hulk gets, the stronger he gets the less open he is to reason and the less coherent he is and the less he thinks about his actions. Which makes him dangerous, especially if he is against a certain target as he won't care about anyone/thing else in his way.
- This also extends to his lungs that are able to inhale vast quantities of air (Though he hasn't figured out this yet).
- Naturally this extends to his legs, allowing him to run great speeds for his size or jump vast distances.

Invulnrability: In addition to immense strength, the Hulk's body possesses a high degree of resistance to physical injury. The Hulk has survived tremendous amount of punishment throughout his career. The Hulk's skin is impervious to conventional blades, Adamantium and Vibranium being strictly the few known metals that can effectively pierce and penetrate his skin. However other beings of immense strength, such as Abomination or beings augmented such as the Hulkbuster armour can cause some physical damage. Strong blows to the head depending on his level of rage can also knock him out, and while he is usually impervious to gasses/tranquilizers sufficiently strong doses in high quantities can knock him out.

Regenerative Healing Factor: Despite the Hulk's high resistance to physical harm, it is possible to cause the Hulk injury. If he is caused injury it is possible for him to heal the wounds at great speeds, however he cannot regrow limbs lost limbs unless he is enraged to levels that he has not yet reached or is victim to a high enough dose of radiation. This healing factor is also the reason it is hard to use tranquilizers to knock him out as his body tries to counter the drugs, and does so rapidly.

Adaptive: It is possible for Hulk to faced extende periods of time in oxygen-less outer space/under water without suffocating, but he is also capable of speaking in these enviroments. However it is theorised that this is linked to his level of rage and he has yet to experience this.

Increased Psionic Resistance: In many instances the Hulk has demonstrated great psychic resistance as side-effect of his rage and the multiple personalities inside his mind. However it is capable, of using mental input to further enrage the Hulk or even enrage Bruce Banner to the point in becoming the Hulk.

Sample Story Arcs:
- Menace or Hero? Hulk/Banner need to find a way to co-exist.
- Gamma induced Heroes/Villains
- Avenger - Founding member of the Avengers, but for how long?
- Planet Hulk - Hulk is cast off Earth and finds his way onto Sakaar.
- World War Hulk - After Sakaar is destroyed by the ship that sent Hulk to Sakaar he returns to Earth, full of rage.
- Red Hulk - While imprisoned another Hulk appears, nobody knows who he is but he seems far deadlier. Who is to blame?
- Hulk, Cured?
- Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D
- Omega Hulk

^Throw in any Avenger style missions there while he's on Earth^

Sample Post:

Just keep it together Bruce. He let out a sigh, before breathing in again slowly. Opening his eyes. Cap low over his forehead he walked off the bus into the city. He was here to try and make his way towards the Future Foundation. They'd help surely, they had to help. He couldn't do this himself, that much was obvious and the military was hunting him. No the best option was to go to Oscorp. Norman Osborne was supposedly one of the smartest guys on the planet and had the resources to back him, yes he himself was smart but his expertise were limited largely to that off radiation everything else was... well. Not really his field.

This was at the point where he stopped really watching where he was going, jostled a bit to the left. To the right, someone was on front of him. Then he looked up and he was in an alley. Two people followed him in and he knew immediately this was bad. Breaking off at a run, keeping his breathing controlled. He stopped as he was facing a big guy, about six foot. Towering over him. One of them drew a knife. "Ooooh, somebody is wanting trouble." "No guys, I don't want any trouble. Why don't you just let me go and nobody will have to get hurt, all right?" He winced, he had said it. That was it, they'd see that as a challenge. "Oh, nobody will get hurt huh? Why don't we just waste this one? Thinks he's so big."

He screamed, part in fear part in pain as he felt the blade pierce his back. His heart rate elevated, and he fell to the ground screaming. Convulsing the thugs just looked upon him perplexed. They didn't hit him that hard did they? It was only a little blade, not meant to go very deep. That's when he looked up at one of them, his eyes turning green and his skin began to shift. "He's one of those mutant freaks! Get him!"

The kicking didn't help them, in fact it made things worse. All he could focus on, besides the pain was that he didn't want to kill these people. He couldn't lie, he didn't want to hurt them, but he didn't want them to be killed.

Bones snapped and moved, grinding against one another. Muscle mass grew as if out of nowhere as the thugs began to step back. The Hulk stood, the knife falling broken out of his back. He just breathed heavily, one of the thugs moved first. Pulling out a gun and shot Hulk in the back. He just turned absorbing the shot. Throwing a dustbin in their direction knocking two of them into a nearby wall, when the other three began to run he jumped, pulling himself via the building (and removing a chunk of wall) to get on front of them. There he stomped, the ground cracking enough that they fell into it...

[Dedonus]

Hider

Player Name: Dedonus
Character You Wish To Play: Carol Susan Jane Danvers, better known as Ms. Marvel
Moral Alignment: Good
Affiliation: Solo, but eventually the Avengers
Character Origin & Backstory:
Carol Danvers was born in Boston, Massachusetts to Joseph and Marie Danvers. Even though she was the eldest child in the family, her father, Joseph favored his two sons, Steven and Joseph Jr. No matter what she did, whether Carol excelled at school or athletics, nothing pleased her father. It almost seemed as if he expected one of his two sons to carry on the family name. Even though his sons did not perform at the same level as Carol, their father still preferred them.

During her middle school years, tragedy struck the Danvers family. At the time, Joseph Danvers’ contracting business was barely staying afloat. One night, Joseph Sr. was driving Carol and Steven home after their father had drank his sorrows away after a dismal day of work. Since he was too intoxicated to be operating motor vehicles, Joseph Sr. caused a traffic accident. While the other driver luckily left the crash relatively unharmed, his son Steve failed to survive. Carol’s father could not accept the reality that his impaired driving caused the death of his eldest son, instead blaming Carol as the child who survived.

Ever since Steven’s death, Carol’s father descended into a spiral of despair. Now the bottle became his constant companion, even more so since the decline of his contracting career. Sometimes, when business was not faring well and Joseph has drank too much, Carol’s father would come home in a drunken stupor, capable of beating what remained of his broken family. While his two remaining children would occasionally feel the blunt force of their father, Carol’s mother usually was on the receiving end so that her children were not.

Carol’s abysmal life did not end there. Her junior year in high school, Carol learned that her family had only enough money to send one of his offspring to college and that her father had chosen her brother over her, in spite of her superior academic and athletic career. For her entire life, Carol had dreamed of the stars, wishing to go to space one day. She wished to become Aeronautical and Astronautical Engineer so that Carol could one day see the stars. However, now her dreams were crushed.

Or so she thought. But at what costs?

Powers and Abilities:
-Kree-Human Hybrid: Through the experiments of the Brood, Carol Danvers is now a hybrid of the Kree and human species. These experiments raised her powers above the levels of any normal human or Kree. For instance, Carol inherited the Kree skin density, bestowing upon her near invulnerability. However, since she is a hybrid, she does not need an enriched Nitrogen atmosphere to breathe.
-Superhuman Strength: Due to her enhanced Cree/Human physiology, Ms. Marvel is able to easily lift 75 tons (average). However, as she absorbs energy, Ms. Marvel is able to lift more weight, easily over 100 tons.
-Superhuman Speed: Ms. Marvel is able to move at high speeds, easily above any levels a normal human could ever dream of.
-Superhuman Agility and Reflexes: Ms. Marvel’s agility, balance, and reflexes far exceed that of any regular human. While concentrating, only villains with the fastest reflexes and truest aim will be able to land a blow on Carol.
-Superhuman Stamina: Carol’s enhanced Kree-Human physiology allows her to continuing exerting herself at full effort for several hours. Her energy absorption ability increases the upper limits of her stamina.
-Invulnerability: Ms. Marvel’s skin is able to withstand almost any soot of punishment, while her energy absorption defends her from almost anything else. Bullets bounce off her skin like nothing, while larger armaments fare a little better. Repeated powerful blows can wear her down, but weaker ones may sometimes go unnoticed.
-Flight: Ms. Marvel is able to reach Mach 3 while flying. At lower speeds, she is able to maneuver in the air with ease. She is also capable of using her own body as a human projectile, ramming into her enemies with great force.
-Photonic Blasts: Carol is able to blast photonic projectiles from her hands. Her energy absorption enhances the power of these bolts of energy.
-Energy Absorption: Part of Ms. Marvel’s invulnerability is her energy absorption. While her body can absorb any form of energy, her body is especially efficient in absorbing electric, light, thermal energies and radiation.
-Minor Molecular Control: Ms. Marvel is able to change her clothing through using her energy absorption powers. She is also able to switch between her hybrid and regular human form at will. These powers are easily used with the slightest amount of heat or light energy.

Sample Story Arcs:
-The Sins of the Brood: Introduction Arc where the Brood kidnap Carol and perform their experiments on her.
-The Rise of A Marvel: Carol adjusts to her new life as a human-Kree hybrid, using her powers to save Boston from countless threats.
-Avengers! Assemble!: Pretty much self-explanatory! :D Still looking for an Iron Man character…

Sample Post:

Sample Post

Carol gently closed her bedroom window, making sure no one would hear her leaving the house. However, because of the ruckus that her drunk father was making a few rooms over, there was almost zero risk of her being caught by anyone because the click of her closing window would have been drowned in the shouts of her father. Mr. Danvers was not inherently a terrible father, but one who had been plagued by bad luck. Losing his son, coupled with his job, which was a major source of income for the Danvers household, would have caused anyone to spiral out of control.

Once outside, Carol turned away from the house and rushed out into the darkness. Before mass consumption of electricity and artificial light, darkness ruled the night. Mankind was not terrified at the existence of monsters, but rather by its curiosity and imagination. Monsters did not lurk in the night, but what if they did? However, once artificial lighting became universality consumed by humanity, the fear of the unknown dissipated. Unfortunately, the artificial light causes an effect that makes the stars in the night sky seem dimmer. Even going out into a dark field will not be enough if there is a neighboring city polluting the sky with light.

Even though the amount of artificial light did not make that night perfect for star gazing, Carol picked out the Andromeda constellation from the various stars twinkling in the night sky. While she could barely pick it out, Carol could discern a dim light, which was actually the Andromeda galaxy, located right next to the “knee cap” of the Andromeda constellation. While it is not the closest neighbor to the Milky Way (the Magellanic Clouds and a few other smaller galaxies are closer), it is one of the largest neighbors to our own galaxy.

Suddenly Carol was blinded by a blaring light. Has her father already found her? However, Carol deduced that it could not be her father because of the direction from which the light was originating. Instead of coming horizontally, somehow the beam of light was coming from above. Carol reached down to touch her hand on the ground, but she was bewildered to discover that her hand did not feel anything solid underneath her. In fact, when she looked down at the ground, she had already risen up several feet off the ground. Panicking, Carol flailed in vain as she tried to get back to the ground. Whoever (or whatever) was abducting her must have decided that the commotion that this Earthling was making was putting them in a vulnerable position to be discovered, forcing them to activate some kind of device that knocked Carol out cold. For the rest of the way up to the alien space-craft, Carol did not make another sound, nor did her limbs stir.

[Natty]

_{The laws of physics can kiss my ass}

Player Name: natty

Character You Wish To Play: America Chavez, Miss America

Moral Alignment: Hero

Affiliation: Formally the Teen Brigade

Character Origin & Backstory:

America Chavez grew up in a mysterious place named the Utopian Parallel with her mums. The Utopian Parallel is a place that strangely exists far from all other worlds; out of time and the multiverse itself. It was created many years ago by a Godly entity known as the Demiurge, the sentient life force of Earth's biosphere who seeded the Earth with 'pieces' of its own life essence. Life didn’t stay like paradise for long. At the age of six, America watched as destruction approached her home, with a black hole appearing in the sky. Tragically, the hole was attempting to pull her home directly into the multiverse, which would potentially destroy all life on the Parallel in the process. America’s mothers, the guardians of the Utopian Parallel, heroically sacrificed their bodies and souls in order to seal the black hole. Eager to help her mothers, America flew towards the hole not knowing what her parents were doing. This resulted in her being sucked through, with America finding herself alive and well in the multiverse.

Due to her mothers’ particles being smeared across the entire Multiverse as a result of them sealing the black holes, America found that she could now physically kick open her own doorways through reality, allowing her to travel the multiverse at her will. Deciding to make her parents proud and to honour their sacrifice, she trained and explored, eventually adopting the moniker ‘Miss America’, and began fighting crime and against any threats that she came across.

Eventually, Miss America became a member of the Teen Brigade, a team of teenager superheroes led by the Ultimate Nullifier. They faced many threats during their time together, although none of them that major, with the group regularly going toe to toe with z-listers or simple thugs and robbers. It was mainly for these reasons why America soon decided to leave, with her believing that she could probably do a much better job on her own. Well that, and the fact that she had begun a relationship with the Ultimate Nullifier who defiantly wasn’t her type by a long shot.

While still travelling the multiverse, America tends to frequently reside on Earth-212, a platonic perfect ideal of New York, where the metropolis has swept the entire globe and there’s mountains made of statues of liberty. This is when she discovers Earth-76031, with her realizing that here is crime rates are high and people are in serious need of a good punching.

Powers and Abilities:

• Superhuman strength – America is able to lift around 15 tons while exerting herself.
• Self-Propelled Flight – America has the ability of self-propelled flight.
• Superhuman durability – While not completely invulnerable, America is fully capable of taking a beating before going down.
• Interdimensional Travel – Chavez is able to physically kick open holes in reality, allowing herself, as well as others, to travel the multiverse and through other dimensions.
• Bilingual – America is fluent in both English and Spanish.

Sample Story Arcs:

• Welcome to Earth - Miss America's debut on Earth-76031 doesn't exactly go to plan when she encounters the Hulk.
• Damage Control – Miss America struggles to redeem her actions after the fight against the Hulk.
• Interdimensional Drug Dealing – Find the dealer. Find the supplier. Punch them in the face. Easy enough right? Although first she's going to need an animalistic tracker to help hunter them down.

Sample Post

“Wrong answer, Chico”

You’d think that with an Earth where New York stretches across the entire planet that there’d be more superheroes. Spider-man, Daredevil, you name it. It would seem that this wasn’t the case on Earth-212. Unfortunately though, there was however an abundance of so called supervillains. In America Chavez’s eyes, that wasn’t completely bad. It even made her kind of happy in a way. She finally had people to punch. Well people that deserved it of course!

This guy in particular was just your regular drug dealing thug, with the feeble man sporting what appeared to be an entire tracksuit. Obviously he didn’t own a mirror, which was surprising considering everything she had heard. From what she had gathered after “nicely asking” the local junkies, ol’ tracksuit here got his stuff directly from the main supplier. The drug in question? MGH. Mutant Growth Hormone. Powerful stuff. Just one hit could potentially give the user omega level mutant abilities. That enough was enough to get America Chavez on the case although that wasn’t the only reason. What intrigued and worried Chavez the most was that there weren’t any mutants on Earth-212. So where the mierda was he getting it from?

“I swear to god, I don’t know!” The man’s Brooklyn accent was clear as day, although that wasn't exactly rare considering there were around 14 different Brooklyns on this Earth. Oh dios. America’s patience was wearing thin. She had enough of this. It was time for action.

“If the next few words to leave your mouth even rhymes with the ‘I don’t know’, I’ll be breaking your fingers…” America’s eyes glared angrily into the man’s as she pulled his arm in between the two. “…one by one.”

“Listen bitch! I don’t…” Well at least she gave him a chance. The scream that followed masked the sound of snapping bones, with the drug dealer collapsing to the floor in pain. He wailed and moaned as he flopped about the floor, while America simply took the time to check her watch. Her attention snapped back however when he finally decided to talk.

“Alright… alright I’ll talk! I’ll give you the address!”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day, Chico.”

★★★★★

It was obviously a trap. Tracksuit back there had managed to phone ahead before getting picked up by the cops. Fortunately a group of 20 armed guards wasn’t going to be an issue for Miss America. She tore through the men with ease, easily breaking several bones in the process. Her prize though wasn’t all too exciting. Whoever was behind the drug production here had cleared up shop. By the looks of it, it had only been recently too. America swore angrily under her breath. All night she had been working this case, yet she was still no closer to solving it.

That was until she detected something off about the warehouse. The particles around her shifted awkwardly as if they had been broken apart. Of course! It was obvious now. Whoever this sucker was, they had access to the multiverse. All that frickin’ power and what do they do? Sell drugs. Absolutely ridiculous. If they were going to take the time to break the laws of physics, then they may as well do something decent for their efforts.

Deciding it was time to take her leave, America closed her eyes and concentrated. Focussing on the energy around her, she stamped down breaking the ground. No, not the ground, the walls of the multiverse. The star shaped portal shattered instantly, leaving a pure white decent into nothing. America frowned at the sight, with her having just detected where it would be taking her. Earth-76031. Perfect. Looks like she wouldn’t be having Korean BBQ until. It was the little changes across the multiverse that did the most damage in her opinion, like the lack of cooking skills on some Earths. Sighing, she gave one last look around at the warehouse, the beaten thugs and even the occasional glimpse of the night sky, before diving through the star shaped hole.