[OOC] Teen Titans: Divided We Fall

[Lord Wraith]

@Hillan Accelerate is accepted.
@Nightrunner Microbat is accepted.

[Lord Wraith]

This sounds like it's going to be awesome. I have a character in the works. Not sure what powers yet.

@SugarRush

Glad to have you and your awesome Anna Kendrick avatar.

Interested. Considering making a super strength/brute type.

@FacePunch

Looking forward to seeing it.

[FacePunch]

Work In Progress

Character Sheet

(Face)



( Costume)

| NAME: |

Isaac Tate Grant

| ALIAS: |

Sentinel

| ABILITIES/SKILLS/EQUIPMENT: |

Kryptonian physiology: Sentinel has been magicially endowed with the physical capabilities of an alien from the planet Krypton. Isaac has not fully developed into adulthood, meaning that he is not equal in power to adult Kryptonians such as Kal El and Kara Zor El.

Super Strength: Isaac possesses strength on par with Kon El. He can lift hundreds of thousands of tons with ease, and while under the affects of mind control managed to break Superman's nose and escape the grip of Supergirl.

Nigh-Invulnerable: Sentinel possesses the same nigh invulnerability of Kryptonians and other powerful heroes. Isaac Grant can tank a nuclear explosion with only minor damage to his person.

Super Senses: Isaac was granted (lolsoclever) enhanced sight, smell, hearing, and touch. He also has Xray vision and telescopic vision at his disposal.

Heat Vision: Sentinel's heat vision is able to reach temperatures up to ten thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Using this power drains Isaac's energy quickly.

Freeze Breathe: It is possible for Isaac to take in a large gust of air and blow it out of his mouth at hurricane level speeds and/or at subzero temperatures.

Super Speed: Isaac is faster than a speeding bullet. Sort of. At peak reflexes, Isaac sees high caliber bullets as easily as a human sees a bird. He is also able to feel the air the bullet is splitting while it travels. He problem is catching it. In short bursts, Grant can move at Mach 2 and react to things moving at the speed of a rifle shot. Moving at top speeds tired Isaac out quickly, so when traveling he usually stays below the speed of sound.

Super leap: Sentinel is able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Multiple buildings, in fact. The farthest Isaac has ever jumped is about half way across New York City.

When Sentinel first met Superman, Kal gifted Isaac his own superhero costume. Retrieved from New Krypton, the costume is more akin to armor. The suit is almost as invulnerable as Sentinel, and enhances a Kryptonian's efficiency when absorbing yellow sun light. The suit is also lined with lead, to offer partial protection from Kryptonite.

| LIMITATIONS AND WEAKNESSES: |

For reasons are that are not known, Sentinel is lacking the ability of flight, whereas most Kryptonians receive their ability to fly at around his age.

Like all other Kryptonians Isaac has many exploitable weaknesses. Red sunlight in large quantities will painlessly depower Isaac, making him like all other normal human beings.

Kryptonite is my far the most deadly of his weaknesses. Even a small sliver of the green rock can debilitate the teen hero and could, after significant exposure, kill him.

Magic bypasses his Kryptonians level durability, making him vulnerable to attacks that would otherwise not affect him at all.

Isaac has difficulty controlling his powers, especially when he gets emotional. He has yet to accidentally kill anyone, but he has caused significant property damage on several occasions.

Sentinel is vulerable to telepathic assault.

| SAMPLE POST: |

"Raaaagh!" A primal, rage-filled roar echoed throughout the warehouse. The building was used by a Chinese shipping company to store toys before they're moved into the commercial market. The warehouse was also being used as the secret hideout of Toyman, one of Metropolis's most infamous super-villains. The villain sat inside one of his mechanized weapons he uses to battle Superman: a giant robot, armed with state of the art weapons capable of leveling city blocks. "Don't forget to knock, Superman!" The little creep called from behind his doll mask. Moments later, the oversized door to the warehouse came crashing down. Standing in the door? Sentinel, holding the head of a toy soldier that had been tried to stop him.

"Knock knock." Sentinel crushed the head within his fingers. Metal screeched and electricity sparked as he tossed the ruined, decapitated head of the robot on the ground.

"You're not Superman!" Toyman cried out in frustration. "I made this robot for him, not you!" The automaton's head closed around Toyman, it's eyes lighting up a bright red as it booted up. "I suppose there's no harm in a test run." What looked like an old fashioned pirate's cannon popped out of the robot's arm. Toyman pointed the gun at Sentinel and opened fire. "What's that supposed to d-" Sentinel's mocking was cut off by the cannonball hitting him in the face and exploding into a ball of flames.

"You'll die for that, you fat little punk!"

"That's not very nice!" The robot's chest opened, revealing a number of tiny rocket tubes filled with missiles. "Bombs away!" Toyman laughed as he launched the missiles at Sentinel. In response, Sentinel's eyes glowed red as he shot beams of heat out of his eyes and at the oncoming barrage of artillery. Missiles exploded as Sentinel swept his heat vision from left to right, the missiles exploding in mid air as they failed to reach their target. A massive robot claw shot through the smoke left by the failed attack, swinging at the hero. Sentinel reacted, grabbing the arm with his left hand. The metal crunched beneath his squeezed fingers.

"Not my toys! You bad man, let go!"

Sentinel roared as he tore the metal arm off the robot like it was made of wet tissue paper. Toyman cried out in anger, firing his cannonball arm at his attack. Sentinel smacked the ball aside before leaping onto the robot's metal face. Isaac dug his fingers into the robot, tearing the tin can wide open and exposing the Toyman inside. The criminal screamed, holding his hands in front of his doll mask to protect his face. Like that would help. Sentinel grabbed the Toyman by the scruff of his shirt and threw him off the robot and into a pile of wooden creates. He screamed in pain as he smashed through the boxes and landed on the hard concrete floor of the warehouse.

"No! Stop! I don't wanna play anymore!"

Sentinel leaped off the mech suit and landed above the crying, pathetic fool. Isaac's eyes glew red once more as he scowled down at the Toyman. "Look me in the eyes! I want to see your face when I smother it all over the floor." Sentinel smashed the Toyman's doll mask before slapping him in the face. "Gahhh! Y- you broke my tooth!" Toyman spat his tooth out, along with a healthy amount of his blood. "Please, I surrender. Just take me to jail!"

"I'm going to beat you to an inch of your life first. And if I ever catch you again? I'll squash your head like a watermelon." Sentinel brought his fist above his head. Moments before he brought it down on the Toyman, there was a loud boom and a rush of wind. A powerful hand wrapped itself suddenly around Sentinel's arm. "That's enough, Sentinel." Superman spoke with in a stern yet calm voice, exercising his authority. Sentinel ripped his arm away from his mentor before walking away from the criminal scum. Superman bound him and called the police before following Sentinel outside. "Sentinel." Superman called after his ward, who was walking down the sidewalk now.

Superman appeared in front of Sentinel with his arms cross. "We need to talk." He began. "When I gave you that suit, I thought you understood everything I had taught you. But apparently you don't understand. So let me reiterate for you:

We don't kill people."

"Maybe we should! How many kids died today? How many people will Toyman kill next time because you're too scared to do what has to be done."
"We're supposed to be better then them. If you cross that line, if you start to kill, you're no better than Toyman."

"I don't care what you or anyone else think's of me. The only thing that matters is stopping scum like Toyman."

| NOTES: |

-17 years old.
-Has a hard time controlling his powers.
-Seems to constantly have a chip on his shoulder, and appears to be super edgy and angry all the time.
-Has not revealed his secret identity to anyone but Rose.

[GreenGrenade]

| 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.

---

I know that this sheet includes a fairly important part of Sandstorm's backstory, but the way I see it is that there's a lot more left to discover, all of it playing a bigger part in making Luke the way he is at the start of the RP. Stuff like how he got his powers, who trained him, how he came into contact with Lucius Fox, how he came to be a Teen Titan, etc.

[Hillan]

Damn. That's one very, very.. Rude sandstorm.

One could even say that it's The Rude Sandstorm.

[FacePunch]

Damn. That's one very, very.. Rude sandstorm.

One could even say that it's The Rude Sandstorm.

@Hillan

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2HQaBWziYvY

[Hillan]

[Lord Wraith]

@GreenGrenade Sandstorm is acccepted, looking forward to the dynamic he brings to the team.

[GreenGrenade]

Awesome, cheers Wraith :).

[Enarr]

I also like Sandstorm, but find myself in the predicament that I can't 'like' it.

[Brodie]

| 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

[Enarr]

Hey Mugin, t would seem that Zane is referred to as male and female. Based on the name, I'd assume Zane is male, but I can't be sure.

[King Kindred]

Hey Mugin, t would seem that Zane is referred to as male and female. Based on the name, I'd assume Zane is male, but I can't be sure.

@Nightrunner

Probably missed a few things when editing the things he got from Zatanna's wiki.

[Brodie]

Ok I think I fixed it sorry about that. He is a male by the way.

[An Outsider]

Genetic Magic: His unique genetic structure allows her to use the magic she was born with as well as learned magic.

@Mugin

Not sure, there might be others, just the first section I seen.

[An Outsider]

| 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.

[Enarr]

Here's the important question: The motto is Titans Together, right?

[An Outsider]

Here's the important question: The motto is Titans Together, right?

@Nightrunner

I always thought that it was the battlecry, much like 'Avengers Assemble', or 'Autobots, Roll Out'.

In theory their supposed to be a close knit unit, developing battle unity and relationships that would see them one day becoming a more powerful League than their mentors could ever hope to achieve, while also allowing them time to socialize with their peers. In practice, well, their a bunch of teenagers, aren't they? Teenagers fight, bicker and argue with each other at the drop of a hat. The interpersonal drama is part of the appeal.

[Enarr]

I was just thinking if they say "Titans Together" or "Teen Titans Go" like the cartoon. Personally, I like it when they say together more. I'm sure there'll be bickering and whatnot, too though. Just wouldn't be as interesting without the social climate.

[Hillan]

"Titans, move out"

But then Wraith's gonna get pissy. :B