Afro Samurai

Avatar: the Legend of the Lost

Budo

Budo

Age: 22

Personality: Joyous, aloof, melancholic. He is a slow speaker and enjoys nature; food is his greatest vice, his favorite meal is lobster crab stir fry. He can be defiant and is suspicious of most authority.

Background: Born to a village of farmers along the coastal tip of the Earth Kingdom's borders, Budo grew up aiding his elderly randparents and his two siblings on the farm. From an early age, Budo worked well with scythe and sickle and was an apt hunter of all manner of game thanks to his unusual height, weight, and strength. For much of his youth, Budo's life was mundane--until he discovered his ability to bend. Once his grandparents discovered his talents, they enlisted Budo in warlord An's army. After some time, Budo found himself disillusioned with the regimented life of military life and thus deserted. He has spent his recent years trying to avoid capture and raise enough money to leave the Earth Kingdom completely.

Bending Ability: He is a learned Earthbender, able to perform all basic techniques; his style of bending is sluggish and powerful but lacks the speed and fluidity of some of his fellow benders. He prefers to plant himself and makes use of a mixture of Muay Thai and Huang Gar kinetic motions when bending.

Other: Carries a fishing pole, scythe, and a metal pot for cooking. He is a skilled cook, hunter, and his massive build makes him a devastating bender when he is rooted.

Sample Post: roleplayerguild.com/posts/4620172

Green Lantern Corps iCheck

Well well well... interested.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

An Unwanted Eye: Prelude

One Day Before the Catastrophe

---

Halted were the wheels of the blue Honda Civic outside the Amim residence's honey colored door. From the vehicle's gut stepped a sleek young man; his hair lay against his neck and rained past his shoulders. His frame was thin, his face canvassed like a demigod. The young man had nerve thrusting through him as he made his way up the stone steps which provided advance to the carpeted front porch of the gaudy brick house. A well manicured fingernail pressed the doorbell.

Shati released her surprise audibly, each of her family member's eyes locked themselves onto their youngest member. Bibi, the matron, exercised her head-of-house privilege and ripped the silence,

"And who might that be?!" Bibi knew, of course, Shati and Bibi had already discussed the details of Shati and her new boyfriend's daytime foray. This was before Shati's elder cousin, Hassan, returned home as a costumed hero-monster-thing. Rahna furrowed an eyebrow, her slender wrist whirred the mocha in her mug. Rahna’s graduate studies had kept her away from the daily goings of her immediate family and perhaps for too long. Bibi rose and strode to the door where she opened the door and at once her forest green eyes lay on the pencil bodied boy who stood before her,

“And you must be Manuel!” Bibi glimmered, she stepped aside so Manuel could enter, a weak grin broke across his jaw, then Manuel stepped inside. Gold shone from the lightning bolt on Pantheon’s chest, and Pantheon’s eyes were shivs which stained the young man’s body with suspicion. Pantheon didn’t blink once. Rahna smelled the tension and jabbed an elbow into Pantheon’s ribs and she only brought injury to herself. Pantheon understood, and retrieved his etiquette: he kicked a chair out from beneath the table and it slid a few inches. With a sly tone Hassan spoke,

“Have a seat.” he still hadn’t blinked.
Shati groaned and rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to be such an idiot all the time, Hassan.”

Manuel was sweating.

Amused by the even the smallest--but affectionate--sufferings he could cause Shati (and because there was nothing particularly interesting to the actual Pantheon amalgum about the course of human social interaction) Hassan assumed control, and the iron stare weltered into malcontent glee. Manuel had unconsciously frozen in word and deed for several minutes, resultant of his awe and fear of the massive costumed figure a few feet away from where he stood. He had seen something like that same lightning bolt on television a while back following the attack on Lost Haven University, but he relegated it to myth. He was already fitting in with the skeptics that were the Amim clan. Shaken from his stupor by fear and reverence, he assumed his position in the seat next to Pantheon. A flash of masculinity washed over Manuel, Shati was siting across from him. He couldn't let himself seem small, not while his woman was watching!

So, Manuel did the most masculine thing he could think of. . . he gave her the flower he had picked from his father's garden thirty minutes before he got there. Bibi let out a near inaudible "aw" sweltering with approval; Rahna, reminiscence; Hassan, over-protection and respect. Shati flashed an embarassed beam of her own. Rahna split the sap in the air with inquiry,

"So, where are you two going?" Rahna put on her own matronly pitch,
"Well," Shati and Manuel said in unison,
"Three," Hassan spit,
"What?" Shati churned, Manuel's eyes widened, Rahna was taken aback. Bibi gave a slight frown.
"Don't eeeven act like you don't know what's been happening out there. Maybe they don't know yet that you're related to me, but it won't be long before they do. When they find out, y'all are all liabilities. I really am not trying to be, you know, a 'hero who has to go on revenge spree because all his family was murdered" trope. . . regardless of how cool it might be."

Rahna open palm slapped Pantheon across the face, the loud clap reverberated through the whole house. Holding his jaw, Hassan's voice seethed with a desired retaliation he knew would remain unfulfilled,

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" the clown of a question received no answer. Pantheon moved his attention back to the young lovers seated diagonally on either side of him. He continued,

"So, yeah, anyway, I'm coming with and I don't care if you like it or not." Pantheon smiled. Manuel posited the day's most effective question,

"How are you gonna fit in my dad's car?"

All were stumped.

"That's right! It is a small car!" Shati brightened at her unintentional trump card--big corporation cost cutting. She supposed she was free from Hassan's eye, he never did take well with her and the whole 'having a boyfriend' thing. It was something about 'knowing how boys think.' It was part of the reason Shati never told Hassan anything ever. Hassan gave the impression he was defeated. He would, of course simply fly there and watch in secret but he would never let them know of his glorious countermeasure. Shati stuck her tongue out at her cousin and then the two rose and moved toward Manuel's car. Rahna and Bibi slicked their similarly large nigh-oval shaped eyes to Pantheon, who sat calm after soaking in the apparent rebuff.

"I know what you're thinking, son. Let the girl have her fun, hm?" Bibi always read her son easily.
"She doesn't need you bre--" before Rahna could finish, there was a man-sized hole in the ceiling, Pantheon had waited until Shati and Manuel had driven far enough away before he made his advance.

"Damn it!" Rahna was exasperated, "You know, ohm when you said he had gotten 'a hard head', I didn't know you meant he was a fool."

Bibi threw her hands up, "I did the best I could with him--he gets the dumbass from his father." she chuckled to herself. Rahna peeled her keys from her pocket and headed toward her truck, it was about to be a fun afternoon.

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

Opening for new characters, eh? I have more time now so I might re-apply.

Marvel AU - The Champions

Yeah, I'm in.

Marvel AU - The Champions

yall open

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

wat up kids

Star Wars: The Bigger Picture

Posting after Christmas.

Star Wars: The Bigger Picture

Draven will be gradually working his way inward as he searches for signs of the Rebellion and looks for clues/contacts/cells of its presence throughout the near rims, but anyone looking for some interaction on the Outer Rim right now is welcome as well.

Star Wars: The Bigger Picture

Draven Windu

I.i: Out of the Darkness

---

Wind whipped as blades against the traditional Jedi garment Draven wore. He had been hiding on Or Tuma so long his hair and beard began to match the nigh-pure white coat of the planet's surface. Honey-skin showed no signs of age despite the decade and a half which Draven resided there. Typical rigors of Jedi training absent--owed to his hermitical life--he had the spring and spirit of a man ten years his junior. He was, no doubt, still in his physical prime and perpetual winter made him look and feel so. No contact with the outsidee world, he had spent the last fifteen years biding his time and waiting for some sign of hope. In all these years, he heard nothing; it did not help him that he had not bothered to break himself from isolation in order to seek out this elusive hope--better yet, do as a Jedi should and initiate a rebellion against this galactic tyranny himself. Draven couldn't, if for no other reason: his years of training and meditation did nothing to rebuff his cowardice.

Draven Windu lacked his father's iron will, but his capacity for empathy was deeper. He was frightened of what was out there, afraid to step out into a galaxy which surely did not mirror the same one Draven abandoned; more than this, he was afraid of how far the wraith hand of the Empire reached. Not since the Purge had he felt the Light's beat, but he had felt it dying. Now, he sensed nothing at all--and if he continued in this manner, he would never sense it again in his lifetime. There had to be something, someone out there who had rallied against the great monster. He knew he could not continue in this impotence, much as he desired it. Or Tuma's seasons never changed, and there was no appropriate clothing but robe and thick bantha hide. Few Bantha existed on this torpid rock, instead the Bantha came into Draven's possession thanks to some bargaining with the local Twi'lek population. It was a gift--and a people, most importantly--he was fond of, unbeknownst to the people themselves.

This Twi'lek settlement and its dwellers called to mind pictures of Raylah's stories she used to tell Draven about her homeworld. Yet, none of them were her. There was no love there, Draven assured himself. It was the sole, interpersonal relationship he had left, and in truth it had become the one thing tethering him to the world around him. Without it, it was likely he would retreat into meditation for the rest of his days. Attachment is what his patron Jedi were adamantly against, it bred reliance on things that did not last, and those only became gateways to pain. Draven rebelled against those teachings then, and he did so now while warming himself inside igloo-style lodging and sitting net to a rising fire. In Draven's right hand there was a cup of Bark tea, bitter and almost coarse as chewing bark itself. It went down hard, but it settled Draven's uneasy stomach.

In a small chair in front of him sat a tall Twi'lek male, he was considerably older than his ilk. Torvin Drallis was old, even for a Twi'lek, in his dark red face there was wisdom. Torvin spoke,

"Is this truly what you want to do?"
"Really? I am not sure. I believe I am ready, but the world has changed so much." The elder Twi'lek chuckled during the beat, his personal confirmation of his advancing age and his own slipping understanding of a passing world,
"Well, we don't need you bothering us anymore, hm?" Torvin continued, Draven sawed a smile on his face. Draven knew Torvin was right, he had grown accustomed to the people--not so much the near desolate planet itself.

Draven finished the Bark tea and rose to his feet, the Jedi robes he dawned were somewhat stiff from the chill of the outside wind. The fire, which burned too bright and hot for a few sticks of wood, kept burning its at an ominous height. Draven gave Torvin a nod, a solemn acceptance of Torvin's advice, but Draven knew not what he were to do, but he knew where he was to go: a merchant planet nearby, Nag Ubdur. If the hand of the Empire reached far as Draven suspected, he would find answers there, where life bustled. Back to his personal hermit hole he went to procure his weapons, none of which he could use in the open once he visited Nag Ubdur for fear of the eye of the Empire. He would use other measures. He moved to the small ship the Twi'leks and himself built. It was time to step back into the world.