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[CHAR] Teen Titans: Divided We Fall

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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by Lord Wraith
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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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DO NOT RESERVE CHARACTER SLOTS UNLESS APPROVED IN THE OOC

Since the days Robin first appeared, teenaged heroes have gathered together in order to become better heroes. Side by side they learn and grow, training to take on evil. United, they are more than just sidekicks, they are the next generation of the world's heroes.

They are the...

~DIVIDED WE FALL~



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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by Lord Wraith
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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by Hillan
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Hillan I'm a writer - Lying's what we do.

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| NAME: |
Rufus Charlie Specter


| ALIAS: |
Accelerate.
The Hub City Speedster.


| ABILITIES/SKILLS |
Kinetic Manipulation:
Unlike the Flash and his fellow speedsters Rufus is not connected to the speed force. His abilities comes from his metegene and he is able to manipulate kinetic energy around and within himself. Using this energy to perform a large amount of superhuman feats.

Super Speed:
His most notable use for his kinetic manipulation is his speed. He generates and absorbs kinetic energy at all times, using it to increase the vibrations within his cells and greatly increasing the work load his cells can handle allowing him to move at super human speeds.

Super Strength:
More akin to enhanced strength. Rufus's strength is above that of regular humans as to prevent his body from breaking into small pieces while moving at super speed. It's a biproduct of the massive influx of kinetic energy in his body.

Super Reflexes and Dexterity:
When the energy hits his brain all of his senses becomes hyper alert, allowing him to follow a speeding bullet with his eyes and catch it with his teeth. His superhuman dexterity is the product of him practicing his agility while moving at super speed.

Genius Intellect: Rufus can read at approximately 60 times the speed of the quickest readers of mankind. Allowing him to take in great amounts of information in no time. Thus he's a genius ranking among the smartest young minds in the world.

Super durability: Rufus heals no where near as fast as the Flash family, but due to him constantly absorbing and generating kinetic energy he is able to mitigate a lot of physical damage to his body, allowing him to feign super durability. He's been shown to be able to handle getting hit by Superboy in the face without breaking a bone.

Energy Management: While it is completely possible for him to use his powers to overcharge objects with kinetic energy to increase their durability or even cause them to become unstable, so unstable they would explode he rarely does that as he thinks it's highly unreliable. It is also possible for him to transfer some of his kinetic energy to another person, giving them a part of his power for a limited time. He does not want to use this as he can not predict the outcome of it.

Hero training: Rufus have been trained by the Urban Shaman of Hub City, The Question. Vic Sage taught him basic martial arts, detective work and interregation techniques. But he was mostly trained how to make sure to always use his powers to be a thorough as possible.


| Equipment: |
Resemblance of costume

Speedster Tunic: The tunic he dons is one previously worn by Jay Garrick and was created back in the golden age of heroics, it's special fabrics are made to withstand the stress of super speed.

Gear: Rest of his gear is composed of home built superhero gear composed of components from biker or military gear from the internet. The Goggles were a gift from the League when he became a titan, they are armed with a heads up display that allows him to keep track of GPS, his own speed and location and satellite imagery. It's also armed with infrared and night vision.

Trucker hat: a 25 dollar trucker hat he wrote a A on with a spray bottle. He practically hordes these hats.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Rufus's speed requires time to rack up. He can at any moment reach speeds of 300 Kilometers per hour with the kinetic energy stored in his body while it's in 'resting mode'. His usual combat speed is somewhere between Mach 1 and 2, but with enough time and momentum to generate enough energy he could reach Mach 3 or 4.
Rufus is unlike the Flahs's not a very chill guy. He takes things seriously at all times and is quick to anger, he refuses to admit that he's wrong and always thinks himself to be the smartest guy in a room. He's a fan of claiming to be 'objectively right'.
His most notable weakness is momentum, would Rufus get stopped from moving and thus generating energy his powers would diminish quickly.
He is completely without a connection to the speed force, and he can thus not use the many utility aspects of speed like the Flashfamily can.


| SAMPLE POST: |
The car bumped on the dirt road, a pot hole had been the culprit. The truck kept going without much of a hitch. The driver's head turned behind them as the sirens were heard behind them. A sports car blew past them followed by four police cruises. The driver looked at the passenger and scoffed. "You gonna catch that?" He asked. The man's name was Harvey, and next to him was his son, Rufus.

Rufus nodded. "I probably should, shouldn't I?" he looked at his dad whom pulled the car over. "You have a disguise?" And Rufus shook his head. "Neh. I would only need that if they actually could get a look at me." His dad smiled "Take this." He said, handing Rufus the yellow trucker hat and the black shades. Rufus took them and looked back at his dad. "Cheers pops." He said, putting on the hat and the shades, the turned the cap around on his head a bang of his hair poking out of the cap as he took off a cloud of dust being left behind him.

"Damn that kid's fast." Harvey said to himself.
Following the sound of the sirens Rufus soon caught up to the cops, the three minute run had given him enough juice to easily outrun the sports car. The black and yellow streak his clothes left as he sped by the police cruises letting them know that their job was finished. Speeding up next to the driver's window, Rufus sent his fist through the window, knocking the driver unconscious. He unlocked the door and opened it, getting in he pushed the knocked out driver to the passenger seat and slowed the car down to a skidding halt. As soon as the car had stopped he vanished in a blur again.


| NOTES: |
Thinks the Flash Family is idiots for leaving room for error.
Is a perfectionist.
Sourpuss.
Prone to random spats of sarcasm.
Polite most of the time unless ticked off.
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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by GreenGrenade
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GreenGrenade

Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago

| NAME: |
Luke Nelson


| ALIAS: |
Sandstorm


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Sand Manipulation: In the simplest sense, Luke has the ability to generate and manipulate sand, provided that there is a source nearby. Using his power, Luke can manipulate it in both aggressive and defensive manners, from creating massive constructs to unleashing a terrible sandstorm.

Hand to Hand Combat: While he isn’t a martial artist, and comes nowhere close to matching the likes of Batman or his Robins, Luke is a competent fighter in his own right. With his own home-grown style, derived largely from boxing, he blends a variety of different techniques to hold his own in a brawl.

Freerunning: As great as manipulating sand is, it lacks in providing Luke with a speedy form of travel. To make up for this, he’s trained himself to be an expert freerunner, able to scale rooftops and obstacles with remarkable ease and grace.

Near-Peak Human Conditioning: After years of training, Luke has developed his body past the state typically seen in teenagers his age. Stronger, faster, and quicker to react, he constantly pushes himself to perfect his body to the pinnacle of human development.

Luke wears a suit composed of a kevlar and ballistic nylon weave, providing him with sufficient, lightweight protection against blades and low-calibre firearms. His utility belt contains smoke and flashbang pellets in the case of a needed diversion, along with a pouch of sand, ready for use. In his helmet is a HUD display, showcasing the conditions of any living being in the area. The suit in its entirety is courtesy of Lucius Fox, via WayneTech.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Luke cannot use his powers without a source of sand nearby. Without it in his vicinity, he is powerless. Along with that, he is only human. All of the basic limitations that hold us down apply to him, too. A well-placed punch can break his bones, a sharp blade can pierce his skin and a bullet will most certainly do some damage, if not kill him. Although he is a skilled fighter, his knowledge of martial arts is fairly limited, and so he is more akin to a brawler, if anything. While his knowledge does extend to some martial arts techniques, he relies heavily on his skills as a boxer. As a result, he can only hold his own against common street thugs, finding himself using his powers against more skilled enemies.


| SAMPLE POST: |
It was a cold evening in Gotham when the man came to their house. He’d demanded to see Luke’s dad, the veins in his neck popping, his face red in frustration. “He has a debt to pay off,” he’d said, “When Penguin wants his money, he’ll get it.” He was a tall man, muscular, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, a tattoo of sharp lines and swirls running down the side of his bald head. Luke’s mother could do nothing to keep him out of the house, that brave woman, God bless her soul, and he barged past her, extracting a pistol from his belt.

Luke was only little back then, but he remembered every detail: the way his dad begged for more time, the way the man denied him his request. The deafening sound of the gun going off as his dad attempted to wrestle it free; the splintering of wood as the bullet ricocheted, barely missing his mother’s head; his dad’s whimpers as the man unloaded punch after punch, transforming him into an unmoving, bloody pulp; his mother’s scream as the man turned to her, gun raised; the thud of her body falling to the ground, as the bullet met its mark.

That night, Luke Nelson was exposed to a world his parents had never wanted him to see. A world of crime and corruption, of pain and loss, of sadism and greed. A world he became determined to put an end to.

The punching bag swung in a wide arc, propelled by Luke’s hook. He’d been hitting it for a long time. Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping onto the floor, adding to the already large pool below his feet. His chest heaved as he breathed, in and out, in and out, inhaling and exhaling with more force than his punches.

The Guilt was back. It had been for a while now. Every time he closed his eyes he went back to the night his parents died and saw his dad bloody, his mum screaming. No matter how much he willed it to stop, his mind kept it at the forefront of his thoughts, never stopping, never giving him a chance to rest. It tormented him, but it also gave him something else: motivation. Without the Guilt, he never would have began this crusade in the first place. After many wasted hours trying to rid it from his mind, he made his way to the nearest gym, a small, run-down building in the South-West corner of the Cauldron, and took his frustration out on the punching bag.

Chest still heaving, he stared at the bag, gently swaying from side to side. It was mocking him, he could tell, as if saying, "You can’t even take me down. How can you hope to stand against those criminal scumbags?"

That got to him. Growling in anger, he focused his mind onto it, and with a flick of his wrist, it exploded into fragments of leather, the sand contained inside it launching all over the floor.

“How’s that for a takedown?”

And just like that, the Guilt was gone. It was time to find a new gym.


| NOTES: |
  • Speaks with a soft Australian accent.
  • Born in Cape York, moved to Sydney as an infant, before once again relocating to Gotham.
  • He feels an enormous guilt towards his parents’ murder. When alone, his mind often drifts back to it; as a result, he frequently seeks the company of his teammates, with whom he is fairly lighthearted.
  • He's gay, but quite far into the closet. No one knows about his; in some cases, not even him.
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by An Outsider
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An Outsider A Glorious Failure

Member Seen 1 yr ago


| NAME: |
Simone Alcarez


| ALIAS: |
Pistolera


| SKILLS: |

  • Expert Markswoman; Pistolera claims to be able to castrate a gnat from fifty yards with a handgun. No one has challenged her on that yet. Even without a gun she's lethal, being able to throw projectiles with deadly accuracy.
  • Military-like training; While too young to have been in any armed forces herself, it's very evident that Pistolera has had similar training. She displays expert hand-to-hand combat skills, a superlative understanding of small unit tactics, and a grudging respect for the chain of command.
  • Peak Human Conditioning; Pistolera is in excellent physical condition, particularly her agility, stamina and reflexes. She shows an amazing level of flexibility.


| EQUIPMENT: |

  • Tactical Body Armour; It isn't formfitting and it doesn't show off her tits. It's body armour, it's supposed to stop bullets, and that it does. Very well.
  • Visor; A device used to ensure she never misses her target. This visor has night vision, infrared binoculars, and thermal anemometer, and provides real-time telemetry on environmental conditions. This data helps guarantee that its wearer's attacks hit their mark.
  • Guns, Explosives and Knives; Simple, really. She usually outfits herself before a mission, depending on what she thinks she'll need. Typically carries twin pistols.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |

  • Human; No sturdier than an average human, Pistolera must trust to her armour to weather her blows. Or better yet, just not get hit. Regardless, a bullet, knife, or just a bad fall could spell an end for her.
  • Proud; Doesn't like asking for help.
  • Ranged Fighter; While no slouch in close combat, Pistolera prefers to fight from range. Don't expect to see her rushing into the middle of fights.
  • Smoker; Pistolera is a smoker. While she hasn't been at it for long, she's under no allusions as to the damage she's doing to her body internally. She just doesn't care all that much.
  • Lactose Intolerant; Exactly what it says on the tin. She loves ice cream, just can't eat the dairy kind. This causes no end of pain for her.


| SAMPLE POST: |
Drug dealers are a real mixed bag. They run a real gamut between socially balanced, happy go lucky, small business like guys, just wanting to make a (dis)honest buck while bringing smiles to their customers faces, all the way to crazed nut cases, shilling out poisons and uncaring as to who gets hurt in the process, as long as they get their money. Personally I've had some good times with the former, and some good times at the expense of the latter.

The one I'm approaching now, a toned, lightly bearded young-ish guy wearing a leather jacket over a dark hoody, falls somewhere in the center between those two extremes. Not exactly well-meaning, but not intentionally malicious. At the end of the day he's just a guy, like any other, a man of grey morals in a grayer world, doing what he can. Usually I'd ignore him, let him live his life and go on with his business while I go on with mine. Unfortunately he's recently started selling his drugs to kids, and that I will not allow.

It's not that I have a crusade out against those that sell to kids, far from it. This isn't personal, I never had a little brother or sister who overdosed, and now I take it out on the dealers, nothing like that. I just think kids are too young and stupid to make their own informed decisions. Adults should respect that. The dealer that get's propositioned by them should tell them to fuck off and come back when they're sixteen. Simple.

"Johnny Crystal?" I say to the dealer. Called Crystal cause that's what he sells. Not the most imaginative, but then I shoot people and call myself Pistolera, so I'm hardly in a position to criticize.

"Yeah." He responds, cagey. He doesn't know me, and he's suspicious. I don't look like a cop though, not in skinny jeans and a loose white vest top. I look like a potential customer.

"You sell your product to a couple kids recently?" I ask. My tone's still conversational, like I could be talking about the inclement weather we've been having lately. Johnny's confused by that, but I can tell he doesn't like the turn our conversation has taken. His hand slips into his jacket. I already identified the knife. He'd never get a chance to use it, even if I didn't know it was there.

"What're you, a cop or something?" Suspicious, eyes darting across my figure, the street behind me, his free hand going twitchy.

"Do I look like a cop?" I joke, standing at ease. His eyes dart across me again, and he begins to relax. Like I said, I look like a customer. Then his eyes track me again, slower this time, lingering on my breasts. His tongue darts between his lips. Hell, maybe I don't look like a customer. Maybe I look like I'm trying to make him a customer! This isn't the nicest alley in town, after all. Urgh, gross.

This conversation is over.

"After all, cops have procedures and rules. I just have bullets." Before he has time to work that one out I palm my pistol, hidden in the waist band of my jeans, and shoot Johnny in the knee cap. He falls to the ground, the pain too intense for him to even scream right now. That will come soon enough though.

Shooting him might be a bit drastic, you might think. Is it though? If I had my way I would have shot him in the head, problem solved. Can't have things my way though, not right now. I'm trying to get the attention of a group of people that frown down upon that sort of thing.

So I just have to make do with hurting the scumbags, a lot, and hoping that a jail sentence and never being able to walk again will turn them off from a life of crime.

At the end of the day I'm just a girl of grey morals in a grey world, doing what I can.


| NOTES: |
-Very reserved socially around her teammates, as if she is hesitant to make connections to them.
-Has several tattoos.
-Has a Starling City accent.
-Dry, almost black sense of humor.
-Usually has a pack of Marlboro red cigarettes and a lighter on her.
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Cubix
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Cubix A Hooded Writer

Member Seen 11 days ago


| NAME: |
Rhea Nevermore


| ALIAS: |
Cell


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Cytokinesis: Rhea has the ability to manipulate the cells of organisms, although, at her current level, she has limited capabilities.

Cellular Acceleration: Rhea can force her body to produce a great number of cells at will, which can speed up her regeneration abilities as well as giving her increased strength and endurance. However, this technique is a sharp two-edged blade as forcing the body will cause Rhea to become greatly weakened once the ability is undone.

Cellular Transfusion: Rhea can transfer her cells unto another person without risk of bodily rejection or complications. These transferred cells immediately cater to the victim's bodily settings, allowing the increased number of cells to allow the person to heal faster as well as to gain additional strength. It should be noted, however, that this does decrease the cells inside Rhea, causing her to be weakened by using this technique and overuse could cause her to, ultimately, kick the bucket. This technique is most often used to heal the victim's wounds and, to an extent (most probably coupled with her Cellular Acceleration), be used to even reattach limbs.

Cellular Disintegration: An incomplete technique that she has yet to master, let alone use. At her rate, Rhea has no real offensive capabilities aside from punches or whatnot. Most probably, Cellular Disintegration, in its most basic aspects, would allow Rhea to corrode the cells of organic objects that she might touch... probably.

Exceptional Endurance: Due to her abilities, Rhea has an exceptional amount of endurance which allows her to perform feats and activities without the fear of exhaustion for a long time. Her mutated cells have also developed to the point where Rhea needs little amounts of rest from time to time.


Rhea wears a white hooded robe. This is, literally, the only clothing she has in her cabinet. She has loads of these robes which she gets from a local tailor who she had an agreement with. There's nothing really special about the robe except the red linings which are strangely present, considering that Rhea hates red colours. She also wears fingerless gloves because... well, nothing really.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Most obviously, Rhea has no offensive capabilities. Her inability to use her skill to harm others places her in a supportive role most of the time. Adding to that, Rhea does not comprehensively know much about hand-to-hand combat since she does detest violence. While Rhea is physically weak, she also has a fragile psychological state. Due to a certain bloody past, Rhea has a great phobia when it comes to blood. More often than not, she breaks down upon seeing a large amount of crimson fluid that would drip down from those around her. Rhea is also, somewhat, socially impaired, often making remarks that tend to put others in an awkward situation.


| SAMPLE POST: |
"Ye trust lil'o me, ayt?" her voice came out almost like a whimper as warm rivulets of tears streamed down her face. Rhea's pale hands were trembling immensely as she did her best not to glance at the flowing sanguine river that had began to taint her white robes as would a brush cause to a canvas.

"Hn." the wounded teen grunted with a pained nod as he merely took the maiden's fingers in his. At the mere sound of this grunt, Rhea inhaled deeply, focusing whatever sanity she had left into healing this man that she had given her heart to for the past years. Who would've thought that all the years they had would be nigh on being snuffed out by a pair of ruthless robbers with guns?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Hang'in der!" Rhea shouted, viciously feeling her own cells deplete as the man's bleeding began to subside. "Ye dun giv' up on me!" her voice became like a siren's, desperate yet nowhere near enticing. The bullet had pierced his left ventricle, damaged some parts of his ribs as well as caused some internal bleeding. For some, this could be considered fatal, hopeless and worthless; they should be preparing a coffin by now. However, for the shivering woman whose white robes were stained with the blood of wars and whose lips were left in incoherent string of litanies and odes, she refused to let this man be reduced to nothing more than just numbers, to be made into an additional statistical data. No, she had given this man her heart and she would die before she would let her sun and moon close his eyes for good.

Thump... Thump...

"NO!" Rhea screamed, feeling a sudden rush of fury as a burst of new cells began to invade her lithe figure. The wound had already closed but the damage that had been done within was nigh on impossible to cure. "Ey! Come on! What's gonna happen to 'dem promises, huh?! Didn't you say dat ye wud stay with me?! Dat ye wud hold me in yer arms?! Dane! DANE! Don't you dare close 'dos eyes, laddie!" The words were said almost in a hoarse tone as horrid visions of failure began to cloud her mind. A lot of his organs had been healed, all except for his heart which had been severely damaged. Ironically, it was the last wound that Rhea's strength gave up upon. "N-no! Not now! NO! NO!" she tried her best to lay her arms on him, to try to give more cells but her limit had been reached. The gentle rise of his chest began to subside, began to slow down.

Thump...

She brought her hands up to her eyes, noticing the slick trail of sanguine liquid drip immensely through her fingers. In that moment, Rhea realized one thing. Like how his blood slipped through her fingers, so was his life out of her hands. She couldn't save him... she couldn't do anything for him. He would just become another stroke of a chalk on her board. In her weary heart, a sad orchestra had began to play, reminding her of how much of a failure she was. The sounds began to ascend higher, the song of despair growing ever so unbearable. Then, as the sun died on the horizon, so did the crescendo of Dane's heart reached its finale. With nothing left, Rhea buried her face in her hands, suppressing a guttural scream that pierced the leyline of whatever deity would deign to cast upon her a look of mercy.

Then, she woke up. Her eyes looked up to the small chalkboard in front of her bed. She focused on a peculiar vertical stroke among the other twenty or so strokes on that board. "'im sorry, Dane."


| NOTES: |
-Rhea speaks in, somewhat, broken english. English was never her native language, anyway.
-She would always dissuade others in taking a life.
-In some instances, Rhea would try to salvage the life of an enemy... rarely, though.
-She hates the colour red.


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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by Enarr
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Enarr

Member Seen 1 day ago
| NAME: |
Eric Abernathy


| ALIAS: |
Microbat;


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Durability: He has the ability to withstand great brute force and has general resistance to energy attacks once transformed. He could be struck on the chest by a peak human a dozen times without bruising. Bullets most often lodge in his skin unless at point blank range. His wings are a considerable weak point, though they can be restored by a transformation.

Echolocation: He can send out a chirp that bounces off of walls to give him an idea of what is ahead of him. The sounds come back to him phenomenally fast, as they do with real bats. He can use this advantage to create a clear mental image of his surroundings, even in total darkness.

Flight: By flapping his wings, he can take flight, gracefully and briskly escaping any standard pursuers. In flight, he can make sharp turns and fast stops, though none instantaneous.

Shriek: His vocal chords are capable of producing high-frequency tones inaudible to human ears, but capable of destroying glass, or likely finding a frequency that can resonate with materials such as steel or bone.

Smell: He can identify a person's smell, even when its masked, as an individua,l with little that can prevent its accuracy. The most common identifier he uses to trace smells is an individuals blood, when available.

Strength: In order to flap his wing-membrane and keep himself off the ground, his arm muscles are beyond even peak standard human limits. Due to the sharp turns, his abdomen and constantly poised legs are also quite muscular.

Transformation: Selectively, Eric can choose to transform into an Man-Bat hybrid, coated in dark, yet soft and shining brown fur, gaining a paper thin membrane bridging his forearms to his lower ribs, as well as a snout, large ears, red eyes, and, large retractable talons on his feet.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
His echolocation ability can detect textures and even identify individuals in a crowd, if it is relatively still, however it can be confused by frequent turns, movement, or excessive noise. At this moment, he has only found a frequency that resonates with glass, despite other materials being well within his range. Unfortunately, these continued shrieks quickly tire out his larynx. He only gains super strength, flight, and other physical augmentations when transformed, however his sensory abilities and shrieks are more reliant on his internal organs, so they require no change.


| SAMPLE POST: |
Dropping like a cannonball into the ocean, Eric fell headfirst above the streets and roadways of Chicago. Throwing his neck up and following through with the rest of his body, he snapped his arms away from his chest and flashed his wingspan like a trenchcoat. It looked like he was cruising through deep space beyond the speed of thought as the inconsistent tones of light groped for the corners of his eyes, streaming away from him only for thousands more to find him. He cancelled his descent and instead went gliding far above the busy streets below. By no means was his glide at a constant elevation, though. He swayed and threw his arms back constantly, raising his shoulders like he was rowing a boat.

A screaming infant was whaling, practically baying for help. He too was traveling downward.

"Hold on, child--I'm coming," Eric knew that he would only scare the child with his words and appearance, but they still functioned to help overcome his own anxiety at the situation.

Locking in on its location, he balled up his fists before finally throwing himself into a position to catch it, with his back facing the cars below and wings spread wide open, he made himself a "catchers' mitt" to the diving baby "ball". Tensing up for a moment, he finally was able to catch it. Wrapped in a small blue blanket, he was as soft as could be, but Eric didn't dare let it impact against his own chest, so he wrapped his arms around it, comforting it with his own heartbeat before gradually spreading one wing. With the other, he slipped the child into his backpack before straightening his stance and facing upward.

From there, he made a thousand labor intensive flaps to return the infant to the apartment he'd fallen from.

| NOTES: |
-Is inquisitive and adventurous
-Is very interested in sciences, particularly his own biology
-Created by an Aztec cult
-Speaks English and some Spanish
-Does not grow in size much when he transforms
-Increased muscle mass increases his pain threshhold
-Was born in Chicago
-Suffers from insomnia
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Brodie
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Brodie Sage

Member Seen 12 days ago

| NAME: |
-Zane Zatara


| ALIAS: |
-Magi


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Genetic Magic: His unique genetic structure allows him to use the magic he was born with as well as learned magic.

Backwards Spells: Zane speaks his spells backward as a aid to concentrate. For example, saying "rebmemer" would cause the target of the spell to remember something.

Elemental Control: Zane can manipulate different magical elements such as: fire, ice, water, earth, electricity, air, light , and shadow. Each elements can be controlled and summoned with spells.

Learned Magics:
-Healing:can heal most injuries with simple spell
-Flight: Zane can fly or levitate however it requires a lot of energy and concentration
-Force Field: Zane can create magical shields to withstand bullets, blasts, blows and explosions. The greater the size or density of the shield the more effort it takes to hold.
-Transformation: Zane can turn anything into anything else, essentially. For instance, the largest thing he has transformed was a concrete building into a cardboard house.
-Eldritch Blast: Zane can blast enemies with mystical energy
-Energy Construct Creation: Zane can use his magical energies to create inanimate objects such as traps or devices to suit he needs.
-Telekinesis: Zane can move/obtain objects at a distance with his spells.
-Telepathy: Zane can also read minds, view and erase memories of others with or without the person's consent. Can only be done for a short period of time and takes a lot of energy and concentration.
-Teleportation: He can send himself and/or anyone to anyplace he/they wish to visit without any space/time restrictions. Needs a visual image of the place before sending any anywhere.

Hand-to-Hand Training: He knows how to defend him self in a fight against others. He is no Batman or Robin, so put him against someone like Deathstroke and he will lose, but put him a basic situation ans he will hold his own.

Magicians Suit: Has the standard Zatara suit, colors are black and white and he has while gloves.

Magic Wand: Zane has a wand that he needs in order to help focus his magic. Has tried to do it without the wand the spells usually blow up in his face.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Mnemonic Incantation: Zane casts his spells by saying the words of her incantations backwards. Mnemonic incantation is the most complicated of the mystic arts. If he cannot speak his spells don't work. Also some of his spells take deep concentration. So if he is not focused or his speech is disabled his magic is useless.

Vulnerability to Magic: Powerful enchantments against beings of magic, like gods, are able to restrict him as well, preventing her from accessing enchanted places or dispel the adverse charm.

Lack of Concentration: Zane has the attention span of a fly so it is hard for him to focus on one thing at a time. This means that more complicated spells are harder for him to do.

His Wand: Zane needs his wand in order to cast his spells. It helps him focus on the spell it self and allows him to better project his will. When he does not use his wand the only thing he has been know to do is create explosions no matter what the spell or levitate things. If his wand is taken he does one or the other and that can lead to detrimental effects.


| SAMPLE POST: |
The casino smelt of smoke, alcohol, lost hopes and dreams. Zane was at the rootlet table collecting bids and moving money from one number to another. He hated working on the strip casinos, all the people were greedy and made wrong decisions. Like if you know there is a low probability of you winning why would you bet the rest of your money on a chance that was not going to happen. He hated the rootlet table as well, the people who played this game took extra risk and always choose their number based on some lucky number or coincidence.

"Alright people place your bets, Black High, nothing under 20,000." Zane said with fake smile and no general interest.

He didn't understand what he was doing here in Vegas. Zane thought he would be working on the stage with Zatanna but instead he had to find a job at the MGM as a table dealer. He works on the Poker, Blackjack, and Rootlet tables. He would use his magic to mess with the players and make them lose most of the time. He was told to find some work and wait for Zatanna to call, so he had been. But Zane was growing tired of waiting, he didn't like it here, to many distractions and the energy the people gave off was weird.

"Hey your times up head out." One of his co-workers said to him. Zane smiled and packed up shop. He headed to the break room and got his stuff.

Zane stepped out side and took a breath of fresh air. "Well time to go home. Emoh" With that spell he vanished from the front of the casino and reappeared in his small one bedroom apartment. Zane had nothing else to do for the day except practice some more and wait for the call.


| NOTES: |
-Has the ADD
-He like card games especially Poker
-Not afraid to speak his mind
-Likes to gamble with high stakes
-Does not like to fly
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by King Kindred
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King Kindred

Member Seen 25 min ago


| NAME: |
Jeremiah Cooper


| ALIAS: |
Thermo (Viable to Change)


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |

  • Temperature Control: Jeremiah has enough control over his powers to control the temperature around him. He can cool the air to put out a fire and heat the air to help people trapped in the snow.
  • Ice Manipulation: Jeremiah has the power to generate and manipulate ice. He can use this power to freeze water so that he could manipulate it as well. He also has the ability to create solid ice constructs in the form of weapons to use in combat.
  • Ice Gliding: Using his ice powers he's able to create a slide of ice to glide along.
  • Fire Manipulation: Jeremiah has the power to generate and manipulate fire.
  • Fire Resistance: Jeremiah is resistant, but not immune to fire. He can be affected by the flames of either an equal or more powerful fire user.
  • Hand to Hand Combat: Jeremiah was trained in the art of unarmed combat by his father, including how to fight dirty. He's nowhere near expert or master level of any actual style, but he knows how to defend himself well enough. After he stopped training with his father most of his training has been self-training.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |

  • Human Limitations: Even though he's a metahuman he's still a human and therefore has the limitations of a human. He can still die like one and doesn't have any form of invulnerability. He also gets tired like a normal human and etc.
  • Frostbite: After using too much of his ice powers he starts to gain frostbite. To balance it out he uses his fire and heat powers to get rid of the frostbite.
  • Lack of Fire Immunity: Despite his control of flames he's not completely immune to fire. He has no problem with his own flames and natural flames, but when it comes to flames of other metahumans with the same level of power or greater it can cause a problem for him.


| SAMPLE POST: |
JC remembered the day that changed his life forever. It was the day before he was recruited to join the Teen Titans. He had lived in California all of his life, but this was his first time in the Bay area. This was his time to prove his worth as a hero. What better way to do so than by cleaning up crime in the city where the Titans were stationed? He wasn't in heroics because he enjoyed it. He was doing it because that's what he had to do. This wasn't a moral obligation thing either. He wore his jumpsuit underneath his normal clothes. He knew there had to be some crime around here somewhere.

As if right on cue he saw about four guys head into the a bank across the street. They left one guy in the getaway car. He knew they were up to no good because of the guns they were carrying in broad daylight. It seemed that criminals were getting dumber by the minute. One was carrying a shotgun and another was carrying an Uzi. They probably spent the money on their last job on that one. He couldn't see the other guns so they were probably handguns. Taking down four guys with guns would have been difficult if his powers weren't in the ranged category. The first thing he had to do was take care of the getaway car just in case someone ended up escaping him.

He casually removed his clothes as he walked across the street to the car. The driver didn't seem to notice him as he was looking out for police cars. He even had the driver side window down. JC decided to sneak around to the other side from the back and while the driver was looking to his right he knocked on the back passenger window. "Look. You have a choice. You can either drive yourself to a precinct and fo--." Before he could complete his sentence he noticed the guy frantically reaching for his gun. "Or you could do that." He aimed his right hand at the criminal and froze him solid. "I'm assuming you were the driver because you're the emotionally weak one. I'll thaw you out later." His tone was both cold and distant. His words were dry and had no type of emotion behind them.

Now he had to deal with the almost threats. He walked up to the bank and peered through the glass to see the amount of citizens lying on the ground. He guessed by now that the tellers already pressed the silent alarm even if it might have gotten killed. You had to hate protocol, right? He realized that he didn't have the time or the option to give these guys the same chance that he had given the driver. Despite his actual not caring for the civilians he knew it wasn't "hero-like" to endanger them. The rules of the hero game made things a bit more difficult.

He pushed the doors open and started finger blasting the criminals. He started with the Uzi wielding idiot and worked his way down to the handguns. He blasted their guns with ice to clog them up. The one with the Uzi tried to get shots off, but the gun exploded in his hand causing him harm. He yelled in pain and at his goons while he held his hand, "Get that freak!"

The insult didn't bother him and neither did the three idiots heading at a guy with powers without their guns. He stood there waiting for them and when they got close enough he opened his palm and gave them the same icicle treatment that he gave their driver. He then walked over to the leader of the rat pack. He had to give this one, one thing. He was persistent and wasn't going to let up. He tried to fight him, but he was more than useless with one usable hand. JC was able to dodge his slow attacks and knocked him back with an uppercut. While he was trying to recover Jace talked to him in that same cold tone. "It's idiots like you five that give real criminals a bad name."

He covered his own right hand with ice effectively creating a strong and durable ice glove before sending a knockout punch straight down into the guy's face. He started walking out towards the bank entrance or exit in this case while watching the civilians stand up. They were a bit in awe and one of them tried to thank him with a hug, but before she could get close he extended his hand to stop her path. "Don't." was all he said before walking outside.

JC was met with a sight he didn't expect. Standing before him was the Teen Titans.


| NOTES: |
Has a great disdain for his father.
Right side of his hair is naturally white.
Left side of his hair is naturally dark red.
Burn scar on the upper left side of his face.
Prefers to go by JC.
Emotionally Distant
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by FacePunch
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FacePunch Death Comes

Member Seen 4 yrs ago

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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by SugarRush
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SugarRush XD rawr

Member Seen 5 yrs ago


| NAME: |
Ariel "Ari" Williams


| ALIAS: |
Whirlpool


| ABILITIES: |
Hydrokinesis - can create, shape and manipulate water, create floods, manipulate tides, generate larger waves and whirlpools. Subsidiaries include hydrokinetic flight, the ability to walk on water, and the ability to purify unclean water.

She does not have to be close to a body of water to use her powers. She can pull water from the air, or from plants in the ground.

Water Solidification - the ability to control water molecules to construct weapons, walls, and other things.

Aquatic Respiration - the ability to breathe underwater.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
- Ari has difficulty manipulating larger bodies of water(large ponds, lakes, oceans) and is extremely exhausted after doing so.

- Ari has to take a few minutes to transition from breathing air to water, and vice versa.

- Susceptible to electricity and her powers can be contradicted by a fire or ice manipulator if she's not smart


| SAMPLE POST: |
Ariel's stormy blue eyes matched the color of the hostile ocean waves thrashing against the hull of the cruise ship. She chewed her lip nervously. She was way too old to be dolphin watching, particularly when it would be rare for an animal to surface in such poor conditions. The only way she would see one is if the sea was calm. "Oh, what the hell, this is my domain anyways," she bragged nonchalantly. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and tried to focus on the water around her, imagined it calming. A tugging sensation in her gut told her that the action was a success, she opened her eyes to gentle waves bouncing off the hull.

There were surprised murmurs and a few tried to start a clapping ovation for the sudden change of tide. Some shirtless guy nearby tried to crack some bad joke that Ari could barely hear thanks to his drunk mumbling but the girl accompanying him giggled.

"They're all idiots," Ari sighed and rubbed her temples before going back to sightseeing. She should be spending time with the extremely handsome — not to also mention stupidly rich — boy that is responsible for her being on the Carribean getaway. But he was screwing around on the lower levels, and there was nothing greater that Ari could do but observe and admire that beautiful ocean. Nothing, no matter how sexy, could distract her from the breathtaking view she was enjoying. She felt so at peace, encompassed by all this water.

It was only a couple more hours' time until the cruise was scheduled to dock back in Florida. Then all of this... paradise would be over. Then she would have to head back to San Francisco, where she lived. "San Fran isn't all that bad," she said to herself, seeing the outline of Florida in the distance.


| NOTES: |
- Arrogant, foul-mouthed and agitating but ironically sensitive
- 18 years old
- Aquatic animal geek, obsessed with dolphins and sharks. These obsessions show that she can be a kid at heart but are really the only times her arrogant demeanor will be broken.


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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Roman
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Roman Grumpy Toad / King of Dirt

Member Seen 15 hrs ago


| NAME: |
Gemini 'Gem' Trent (Left) & Siamese 'Sia' Trent (Right)


| ALIAS: |
Lock & Load


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Gem (Lock) and Sia (Load) possess unique, but oddly complementary abilities.

Lock's power presents itself as a low-functioning form of technopathy that focuses on creation and, though she'd not care to admit it, warmongering: she is able to take rudimentary resources, such as metal, wire, wood, etc. and craft it expertly into weapons of many functions almost without a second thought. Through this, she is the ultimate combat pragmatist, taking basic components off the battle field and creating a potent tool with which she can triumph over her enemies.

Load, meanwhile, has a separate ability which, while useful in its own right, becomes downright sadistic in tandem with her sister's. Load also possesses a form of technopathy, although one that functions on a higher level than Lock's; Load can hold a weapon or tool in her hands, and instill it with power in order to 'upgrade' the object, directing it to perform its function better, at a higher level, or more efficiently. Load can take a crude shield made from a sheet of metal and survive an RPG, or a roughly-hewn sword and slice through titanium - all she needs is time and energy.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Gem (Lock):
-Builds require resources. Gem only constructs, not creates, so if she doesn't have the raw material, she can't make anything.
-Her builds are only as effective as the material she has allows them to be; refined, plentiful resources will create effective weapons. Crappy materials won't.
-Complex weaponry requires greater amounts of resources, and wider varieties. Weapons are only as complex as Gem's creativity allows her to make them.
-Builds are limited to weaponry only. Gem can't seem to make anything else.
-Builds do not instill innate knowledge on proper usage. No matter what she constructs, Gem is only as effective with it as her training.
-Lock has no power to 'turn off' her ability, and is always seeing ways things can be put together and constructed and mechanized into tools of war. In the field, this is useful; out of it, it can be a little overwhelming.

Sia (Load):
-Upgrades require energy and focus, and take time to ramp up in power.
-Upgrades are lost if Sia loses possession of the item; an upgrade must be constantly fed energy to maintain itself.
-Upgrades require additional energy to manipulate in a specific direction; if Sia wants a shield that is lighter over sturdier, she must focus to push the upgrade that way.
-Upgrades are not unconscious. Sia must intentionally begin an upgrade process.
-Upgrades do not instill innate knowledge on proper usage, unless the upgrade gets advanced to the point of the object being able to use itself. No matter what she upgrades, or what the upgrades do, Sia is only as effective with the object as her training.

Finally, both girls do not gain any extra durability, survivability, strength, stamina, or speed from their abilities, unless they specfically engineer equipment for these uses. They are human, and suffer all the drawbacks of their species.


| SAMPLE POST: |
It was clanking that awoke Sia. Clanking and muttered groans of frustration and more clanking and- Sia rolled over, lifting an arm to check her clock, red LED's glowing harsh. 8:13. Gem had had worse episodes. Sia strained her neck to check the corner of the room where Gem's scrap heap resided. It was less of a heap, now, more of a...mound? Pile? The words still seemed too big. Whatever, it was smaller than it had been when they'd gone to bed. Or at least, when Sia had gone to bed.
"Gem?" Sia said gently, sitting up in bed, carefully prodding her sister. It was important not to startle her in an episode. Who knew what she'd constructed. "What've you been building?"

Gem dropped the scrap that was in her hands and hovered a hand over a pile of odd, near-spherical objects that lay beside her. She picked one up and cradled it in both hands, standing and turning around - Sia could see her eyes were bloodshot, hair greasy and pulled back. Oil marked her face, though Sia couldn't see any cans or containers in the room. How did she always manage that?
"Bombs."
Oh. Good.
"At first explosive!"
Naturally.
"Just plain bada-boom, y'know, bit of gunpowder? But then I saw these," Gem threw her arm behind her and scooped up some metal shavings, "and I thought, what about a dispersal system? Like, a scatter-bomb." Sia nodded along, ignoring her need for coffee. It was best to let Gem talk. "And that got me thinking about dispersal systems in general! SO many different things you can put in a bomb, Si, it's crazy! This one's just the boom, but you've got EMP's, sonics, heat. You just put this there and then that goes around here and then you press this-"

Sia leaped frantically from her bed and nearly tackled Gem in sweeping the bomb from her hands, then fled to the window, flinging it open and tossing the small metal bomb out into the open air beyond. It clicked mid-flight and Sia pushed herself flat to the ground. There was a boom and a rumble and Sia got up, peeking out of the window. There was smoke, and a small piece of metal was vibrating in the wall next to their window, but through the lingering black plume Sia could see small bits of coloured paper fluttering gently in the breeze, starting their fall to the ground.
"Oh, that one was confetti. A celebration-bomb!" Gem said from behind her, cheerful and spacey.
"What were you celebrating?" Sia asked, exerting calm upon herself, turning around to face Gem.
"Well that's for whoever throws it to decide."
Sia tried to respond, but the tannoy crackled to life, and whatever she was about to say was cut off by the icy tones of Rose Wilson, their leader.
"Gemini and Siamese. Attend breakfast. And then the training room."

Sia groaned, rooting through her drawers to find suitable clothing. Gem just grinned.
"Excellent." She said. "I'm starving."


| NOTES: |
-Their parents have a sense of humour. Whether or not it's good is another question.
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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by Weird Tales
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Weird Tales A Stranger from A Strange Outer Dimension

Member Seen 15 days ago
| NAME: |
Max Dare
| ALIAS: |
Stunt Devil

| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Max’s bones are indestructible and cannot break. He also has a healing factor, which can repair broken skin and bleeding wounds as well as prevent him from getting bad concussions. Thanks to his unbreakable skeletal structure Max is an extremely skilled daredevil and stuntman. He is also very skilled skateboarder and is Xgames level in terms of technique. Max is also an excellent brawler and boxer, he’s taken on a dozen violent drunks all once by himself and won. For equipment he has a skateboard, a metal baseball bat and a Riot Shotgun. His costume is a crimson red racing suit made up of fabric that is flame resistant, and he wears a black trench coat over it that is bullet proof. To further protect his identity he wears a masquerade style devil mask


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Aside from his indestructible bones and healing factor Max is basically human and is about as strong as a normal person his age. Having unbreakable bones doesn’t mean he can’t be killed, if a major artery is severed or a vital organ is hit with a precise attack that sidesteps his bones then he can still bleed to death. Anything that could destroy things on the subatomic level could destroy his bones.


| SAMPLE POST: |
Max rolled is at the two punks trying call him out to do a stunt. His reputation of being a daredevil had spread around school and now the douchebags of the place were attempting to do something extremely reckless and deadly.

“Come Max, show us your skill with that skateboard of yours. Grind down the rail of the park steps” One of them taunted. The park steps that they were referring too went down a steep hill and attempting grind down it with a skateboard would be incredibly dangerous and potentially fatal.

“I don’t have to show you losers anything, I already know that you’re too afraid to do this stunt yourselves” Max snorted and he saw the two punks’ faces contort into anger. One of them tried to take a step towards him, but his companion stopped him.

“Okay wiseass, I can see that you’re just too chicken to try this” he said to him with a smug smile. Max glared at him.

“What did you say asshole?” Max asked with an angered tone.

“You heard me, I think you’re just a little chicken” he replied and his friend started making clucking sounds.

“Nobody calls me chicken” Max growled.

“Alright then prove it hotshot.” Max thought for a moment, but he didn’t want to look like a wimp so he decided to throw caution to the winds and attempt the stunt. He hopped onto his skateboard and accelerated towards the railing at the beginning of the steps.

He had to focus and not let his nerves screw him up otherwise his life might come to a very painful end. Max ollied onto the railing and began to grind down the metal handrail. It almost like with each second his speed increased and thus complicated his control over his skateboard.

His eyes then spotted a spot where the steps level out in the middle and the handrail ended. He would have to do an ollie in between the space of the two railings to avoid hitting the concrete hard. When he came to the end of the handrail he attempted to do an ollie, but it was too low and his skateboard slammed into the rail.

Max tumbled headfirst down the concrete steps in a frightening manner and onlookers gave out gasps of shock at the sight of his horrible fall. Max felt horrible pain as head connected with the pavement and he was sure that this was the end for him.

He was amazed that he was able to stay conscious the entire and when he finally came to a stop on the steps max closed his eyes in a daze. Several people came running over to where he lay and were shouting for someone to call an ambulance.

After about a moment Max opened his eyes and tried to move. People told him not to, but he still tried and to his and everyone else’s surprise he found that his arms and legs were still functioning. Max was still in very great pain and was bleeding, but it didn’t look like anything was broken.

The fall should have broken his neck and killed him, but he was still alive and with no visible broken limbs. When the paramedics arrived on the scene they quickly tried to get him on a stretcher, but Max told them that nothing seemed broken.

They didn’t listen to him and put him in the ambulance and took him to the hospital. Upon arrival the doctors who tried to treat him were shocked to find that he had no fractures or breaks on his bones as if the impact with the concrete had no affect skeletal structure.

His parents soon came to the hospital worried sick about him after hearing that he had attempted a very dangerous stunt. They were relieved to hear that he was alive and not too terribly injured, but they were still mad at him for being so horribly reckless.

Max’s dad had been a stuntman in his earlier years and had acted as a stunt double in both movies and TV shows, but he scolded him for trying something he had almost experience doing and almost killing himself. Max apologized to his mother and father and just wanted to go back home.

Even though some of the doctors wanted to examine him more they let him leave with his folks after giving him a few stitches. His mom and dad asked him what exactly happened, but he only gave them half of the answer not wanting to give away too much. Thankfully they didn’t try to question further and left Max to ponder why he had not been killed from the stunt.

This incident happened four months ago and now Max was fully aware of his Metahuman abilities that granted him his indestructible skeleton as well as a healing factor that he discovered soon after the failed stunt attempt.

Seeing them as a way to do some good for others, he fashioned himself a costume and took a gun from his father’s collection and one of his own baseball bats. With these things he became Stunt Devil, a hero who feared no stunt or act of heroics. Criminals would come to fear him and spectators would call him insane, but he doesn’t give a shit.


| NOTES: |
He’s fifteen and is about six feet tall. His hair is red and he’s pretty well built for someone his age thanks to some physical training. Max loves hamburgers and Doritos almost as much as he enjoys doing extreme stunts and fighting crime. He hates it when things move slow and has a fear of snakes. He’s also pretty reckless at times. Max is fairly sociable, just don't call him chicken and be an ass and he'll get along fine with others.


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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by Enarr
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Enarr

Member Seen 1 day ago
| NAME: |
Francine Amelia Cornell

| ALIAS: |
F-Bomb

| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Upon pronouncing her magic word, Francine will be consumed by a swirling veil of dark clouds, thunder and lightning accompanying the process. When she emerges, her strength and stamina increase to match Captain Marvel's level. Also increased is her tendency to use lude and socially inappropriate humor along with a side effect of impaired judgement. F-Bomb can change back by repeating her word.

Flight - She can go into the air by her own power, unlike a bird or a bat, or even a rocket, she has the maneuverability of a helicopter and the speed of a tidal wave.

Unkillable - While transformed, she simply cannot be killed and her body will not cease function. She will heal all injuries between transformations. Her cells will not die, and they will do their best to mend themselves as fast as possible.

Chronoacceleration - She can move inhumanly fast, slowing her perception of time to outmatch her standard speed. In doing so, she burns through her lifespan and ages in corelation with her increased speed.

Knockout - She is bestowed with stunning beauty, changing her appearance slightly upon transformation to match the ideals of the males surrounding her. The attributes changed mainly include her skin complexion, eye color, hair style, and, to certain extent, rearranging her dress.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Her cells will not die, thus an exploitable weakness is clearly to constantly hurt her without letup or end. Also, Radiation could be considered a weakness as a fast-acting cancer or mutated cells will not die until she changes back to her mortal state, although they may be cured by other means until then.

While her perception of time is slowed so she may move and react quickly, it makes her normal form actually age more quickly.The aging is increased by the factor of which she increases her actions.

The level of her feminine charms and aesthetic gifts can only change to things she'd normally be able to change herself, simply taking the otherwise necessary effort out of the equation. Basically, it will only do what a non-surgical makeover will do.


| SAMPLE POST: |
"Ugh, it's Superman," Francine said with the corners of her lips sagging like an LA gangsta's jeans. Not feeling like talking, she turned her back to the hovering blue strongman and huffed, "God, for the love of-" KRAKOOM

Lightning touched the ground, the spear of the gods empowering her small frame and filling her out like a balloon surrounding a water spout. The gray tornado hid her nakedness from the world while her short shorts were mysteriously traded for a knee-long frilly skirt and a lady's business jacket over a white button up blouse.

At once, she flew away, giving Superman a run for his money before believing she'd escaped. But the tanned small-town man was directly behind her, with a smirk suggesting his patience was about to expire.


| NOTES: |
-Her magic word could not be printed in a comic book and sounds like a bleep when heard on television.
-She is indeed related to the Captain Marvel family, however she does not gain her power from SHAZAM or Captain Marvel
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Hidden 9 yrs ago → 9 yrs ago Post by An Outsider
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An Outsider A Glorious Failure

Member Seen 1 yr ago
| NAME: |
Malcolm 'Mal' Summerhold


| ALIAS: |
Blue Paladin 9


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
  • Genius Level Intellect – Mal will announce at every available opportunity that he has an intellect so advanced that modern IQ tests can't accurately identify his intelligence level. He has figuratively broken the mould. A prodigy in the fields of theoretical and experimental physics, he has also picked up his uncles affinity for engineering. You could count the number of people able to keep up with Mal's mental processes on one hand.
  • Paladin Class Warframe Armour – An entirely experimental prototype armour, developed by Summerhold Armaments engineering, financed by a coalition of western governments, using reverse engineered terrestrial and alien technology as it's basis. The armour is psionically, genetically and bio-metrically linked to Mal, meaning no one but he can use it. The armour provides Mal with the strength, power, speed, and endurance to go toe-to-toe with Superman level threats. Instead of traditional CPU and VI elemants the Paladin Warframe makes use of a scavenged Father Box, a small Apokoliptian super-computer. It also contains several armaments including, but not limited to.
    • Forcefield Generation
    • Self Contained Enviroment
    • Hardlight Melee Weaponry
    • Concussive Energy Blasts
    • Rocket Propelled Flight
    • High-Yield Explosive Missiles
    • Hush Tube teleportation
  • Combat Stimulant Cocktail - Having advanced armour doesn't mean one is qualified to start fighting the likes of Darkseid, Reverse-Flash, or Brainiac. After all, theses creatures fight and react at much higher levels than any human could ever hope to aspire to naturally. To combat this Summerhold Armaments developed a highly potent 'cocktail', designed to increase the imbibers senses, speed and reactions to superhuman levels. Based on the Miraclo formula, each dosage lasts about eight hours, after which the user must endure an uncomfortable detox period. it also eases user neural interface with the Warframe.
  • Wealth - Mal comes from a wealthy family, Summerhold Armaments once being a billion dollar company, though they have recently fallen on hard times. Still, as the saying goes 'a broke billionaire is still a millionaire.'


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
  • No real combat experience. He's only started his hero career recently.
  • Combat stims have a time limit. Once he's gone over them his effectiveness in the Warframe will be compromised.
  • A lot the technology in the Paladin Warframe is alien in origin, and it's safe to say that the Summerhold's don't quite understand what they're dealing with. The Father Box in particular has the potential to be very dangerous if they're not careful with it.
  • They have yet to find a truly suitable power source for the suit. They have incorporated Kryptonian solar absorption cells, and the Father Box does allow a degree of passive energy absorption and re-distrubution, but at the moment these are both 'soft' energy replenishment utilities. For 'hard' energy supply Mal currently uses an energy cell derived from Promethium, which would usually be more than enough. However due to the tremendous energy draw from the suits main functions he runs a very real risk of depleting his power supplies during a longer battle.


| SAMPLE POST: |
Sometimes in science, as in life, you just have to roll the dice. Take the plunge. Strike the drum. That's why Malcolm Summerhold was booting up the Paladin Class Warframe IX for the very first time, when his elders, and supposed betters, insisted that the armor should be left inactive. They claimed there was too many unknowns with the technology, too many anomalies in the software, too many alien variables, to declare the Paladin ready for a live fire test at this stage.

That's what they claimed anyway, but Mal knew the truth. They were afraid, afraid to take that last step, a step that would plunge them into a great unknown. But they had to, because the path to true greatness lead through the unknown. Mal knew this, but they would not listen to his arguments, so stubborn they were to keep their faces thrust firmly in the dirt. Well he would take the decision out of their hands, and then they would see. Then they would thank him!

The armory was still in a dim gloom, no one being around at this time of night. There was some visibility though, supplied by the blinking status lights on the monitor, more than enough for Mal to see by. He'd spent so many hours in this workshop that he could have traversed it in the dark anyway. He strode to the centre of the circular room, knowing time was against him now. He would have flashed up on the security systems by now. He hadn't bothered disabling them, knowing he could easily do what he had to in the time it took his father and uncle to rush to the lab. Just meant the Paladin would have an audience for it's first test run. Historic moments like this needed witnesses.

“Paladin Class Warframe IX initialisation startup. Startup code INV-641-I810F. User Malcolm Summerhold. Password blue skittles.” As soon as his voice rang out a halo of light burst into life in the centre of the room. The floor tiles slid apart, revealing a cylinder of revolving shining steel, five feet in diameter. The cylinder slowly corkscrewed into the air, until it stood over eight feet tall.

“User retinal and palm scan required.” A robotic, faintly female voice sounded. Mal input the relevant information, anticipation building. The cylinder began to break apart, unfolding like a butterfly's wings to reveal it's precious cargo, the greatest feat of human engineering of all time.

The Paladin.

Mal allowed himself a moment to admire it's splendour, the lights dancing upon it's shining silver breastplate, running his eyes along the subtle curves, as soft and proactive as a woman's. Fashioned to resemble a knights armor, it was as close to it's inspiration as a Lamborghini was to a horse drawn cart. Finished in gold trim, it was an eye catching piece, possesed of a cold beauty that none could deny. Mal still couldn't believe that his uncle didn't think it was ready. It was going going to change the future.

Mal didn't know how right he was.


| NOTES: |
-Ever since the initial bonding process that linked him to the Paladin Warframe he has been having recurring and troubling dreams, visions of a hellish, fire-ravaged world, and occasionally hearing a sibilant, nebulous voice. He tries not to sleep because of this.
-The stim cocktail is mildly addictive. The dosage is carefully measured for his body type and size.
-He has not made his heroic début as of yet.
-Is a practical joker, and enjoys annoying people, especially towards those he is fond of.
-The armour is similar to this, but doesn't feature the dragon across the chest. It has two eyesholes instead of the red V, and all the lights are blue instead of red. The armour features gold trim.
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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by The Grey Warden
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The Grey Warden Commander Shepard

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Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by G3njii
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G3njii

Member Seen 4 mos ago
| NAME: |
Bryce Rowan


| ALIAS: |
Wisp


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Ghost Physiology
-Flight
-Invisibility
-Intangibility
-Ectoplasm Manipulation
Recognized as a variable-state form of matter-energy. Its form can range from raw seething energy, a misty vapor, a viscous gelatin, a bundle of fine threads, a living membrane or a fine, fabric-like tissue, that can also be solidified and used for material purposes.
Currently he is only capable of using it its raw energy form molded in the shape of spheres, which he refers to as ghost lights. These spheres can be thrown or even held for melee purposes. When it comes into contact with something other than himself the energy violently releases itself from its spherical form.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
While although he has a ghost like physiology, Bryce is still human. So he can only take the same amount of physical abuse as any other normal human his size. He is still subject to disease and the like. His flight speed tops out at roughly 30 miles per hour. Although Bryce's skill with his intangibility is quite good, he still gets scared of passing through incredibly thick walls and such, he is always afraid that his ability would just turn off and he would die as part of a wall. Although intangible he has difficulty slipping through energy based attacks with his ability, his other weakness is magic, of the spiritual kind, can have great effect on him. His intangibility is limited to only himself but he can share his invisibility with anything or one he touches. The most being three other people, and no one thing bigger than a small car. The energy orbs which he creates can be thrown just as far as he would be able throw a baseball. They can however have their courses just slightly altered after being thrown. He is unaware if he can fly in space or not.


| SAMPLE POST: |
The alleys of Wisp's home city, littered with their fire escapes, the windows some lit and others extinguished, all the refuse scattered throughout, they really lent to the illusion of what the name, a concrete jungle, could allude too. Like every jungle it had its predators, which also meant it had its prey. This night Wisp was unfortunate enough to be the prey. He darted through these alleys, dodging the continued attempts to subdue him by his hostile follower. A small drone roughly the size of a dog, chased his every move as it pursued its prey. Armed with some sort of advanced targeting systems, and two active fully automatic rifles. Bullets whizzed past him at every turn, but Wisp wasn't afraid of bullets, he simply allowed them to pass straight through him as he flew. Being like a ghost it was really as simple as that. What wasn't okay though was the problems that could ensue if this drone actually managed to capture him.

The game of follow the leader was beginning to get old. 'Okay fun is over, Maybe I can lose him and finish this if I get a bit more fancy with my flight.' Bryce stared at the walls that directed the path he flew, although he thought going intangible was simple, it frightened him to pass through objects more than a few feet at most and even then it made him uneasy. Yes the ghost boy was afraid to go through walls, and he'd admit it. Bryce never denied things about himself, he accepted who he was and he was a happier person for it in the end. Sometimes though, the good plans weren't the most ideal. He made his choice and made a sharp left into the wall of what he hoped was an abandoned apartment building, it sure looked like one anyways. For a moment he thought he had actually escaped pursuit, but of course it couldnt be that simple, he really preferred simple. Caught a bit off guard the wall suddenly exploded inwards, shards of rock and some shrapnel of metal launched themselves toward Wisp. He activated his intangibility as soon as he could react to the deafening boom but he still got caught in a few places before he was untouchable once more. He caught a glimpse of some sort of explosives launcher before it disappeared back into the drone, because they just absolutely had to have grenade launchers. Before he was given another moment to breathe, the machine guns were swapped out with two odd looking guns with thin flat rectangular shaped barrels. 'Those dont look like fun toys' as he spoke he could see them begin to glow a blue color. He didnt stick around to see what happened next because he dropped himself through the floor and began to run and leaped into the air and began flying. He glanced back and saw the blue lasers blast through the floor and the drone begin to follow him again.

Now Wisp had lasers to dodge, bad news was he couldn't pass through a laser seeing as it was energy based weaponry. The good news though and Bryce firmly believed that there was always good news though is that he had finally thought of an idea to finish it all. His earlier comment of this being like follow the leader, came back to his head and it had given him his answer. Like his other comment before the best plans weren't always the most ideal plans there were. He took a deep breath, 'If I become part of this foundation I'm coming back to haunt' he took a sharp dive through the floor below him and continued to descend to the basement but did not stop there. He stiffened his concentration and passed though into the solid concrete and soil and looped his way around hoping the drone would be busy attempting to blast a hole to chase him through. As soon as he thought he wouldnt be noticed he popped out of the ground around the hallway from where he had originally dove into the ground. He brought his hands together and slowly pulled them apart and green energy began to well up between his hand growing bigger and bigger the further apart his hands became, until he had a basketball sized Ghost Light in his hands. As fast as he could he rounded the corner and launched his attack at the drone as the drone noticed him it changed targets and propelled straight for him. Luckily its flight AI was not as advanced as its targeting and it flew straight into the ghost light and there was a violent but small explosion of green. Wisp waited for the smoke to clear and walked over to check out the charred remains and saw a small engraved plaque. It said congrats you passed the test. 'Wait, who in the hell was testing him and why?!' Suddenly there was a white eruption of light and then he was out cold.


| NOTES: |
-Very open/accepting about himself
-Loves to help people and make people happy/smile
-Loves to have fun too, always tries to have fun doing whatever
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by GreenGrenade
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GreenGrenade

Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago

| NAME: |
Andrew “Andy” Hughes


| ALIAS: |
Hellfire


| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |
Solar Manipulation: Andy can manipulate solar energy. His orange flame burns at seemingly impossible temperatures, burning things at subatomic levels.
Hand to Hand Combat: Trained in multiple fighting arts, Andy is a skilled combatant, able to take on multiple goons at a time.
Flight: An application of his power, Andy can use his flames to propel him through the air.
Peak Human Conditioning: Intense training has seen Andy transform his body into a paragon of human development.
Sass: Sass is an art, and Andy has all but mastered it. He can burn people in more ways than one.

Andy’s suit is made of an experimental material designed to be bulletproof and impervious to the elements. His helmet contains a built-in HUD system, as well as a music player, for when he’s bored.


| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |
Control: Andy needs to constantly watch how much control he has over his power. Too much exertion takes a toll on his body: exhaustion and bleeding are but a few symptoms of overuse. No control could also lead to a catastrophe on a global scale, something he doesn’t think anybody really wants.
Humanity: Solar powers aside, he’s only human. Underneath his incredibly awesome suit is a person as vulnerable as any other.
Naivety: Andy displays a naivety that's put him in danger time and time again. Despite constant reminders that the world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows, he can’t help but see the best in people.


| SAMPLE POST: |
I’ve been at the bank for only a few seconds when I have an epiphany: the robber is an idiot. You know that feeling when you watch somebody do something stupid, and can’t help but share the load of embarrassment with them? That’s what I feel now, as I watch the shaking gunman aim his weapon at me.

He’s an ugly mess of a man, all crooked features and fat rolls, hairs sprouting from moles dotted over his face. Wavy golden locks splay over his shoulders, as fake as WWE; whether they’re a lousy attempt at a disguise, or a lousy attempt at boasting a headful of hair, I don’t know. What I do know is this: he is an idiot. After a moment of pondering, I decide that I should let him know.

“Hey,” I say, “You’re an idiot.”

He looks at me, fear in his gaze and his mouth wide open, revealing a set of disgusting, cigarette-stained teeth. “Sh-shut up,” he eventually manages. He sounds like a dying hyena. “Shut up or I’ll sh-sh--shoot.”

I sigh. “Good luck with that.”

“I warned you!” he yells, and tries to pull the trigger. It doesn’t budge. “Wh-what?” he asks, confused.

I sigh. “Your safety’s on.” Idiot.

“...Oh.” He clicks it off.

I flick a spark at his wig. It catches alight. He screams and drops his gun.

I walk over to him, grabbing hold of his flaming hairpiece. I chuck it on the ground. His shiny scalp stares up at me. He’s a midget. A bald, fat, ugly midget.

“Hey, idiot,” I say. He catches my gaze. His eyes well with emotion, and I realize that he’s crying. “Oh god,” I groan, “You’re crying.”

“I’m sorry,” he moans, tears streaming down his face, “I can’t help it.”

I watch him as his shoulders shake with every sob. I feel awkward.

I reach down and pat his shoulder. “There there,” I say, “There there.”


| NOTES: |

  • He’s Australian.
  • 17 years old.
  • Almost always in good spirits.
  • Loves a good laugh.
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