An Outsider

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

@Eviledd1984 Hey bud. It's an interesting concept, and a power set that I've not come across in these types of RPs. However the bio is extremely sparse, and I'm struggling to get a handle on the character. Is he a villain? A hero? A bit of both? I'd have to check with @The Kid Lantern but I'm not sure what his thoughts on villain protagonists are.

You say he left the Brotherhood because he found their cause to be petty? Why was that? The Brotherhood has been around for so long, and through so many different incarnations, that their cause has fluctuated quite a lot. Traditional view is that they have fought for Mutant Supremacy (mostly because of their famous ties to Magneto and Mystique), so is that the cause that Necro found petty? If so, what is his cause?

Also, what legacy are you planning on tying him to? From the history it could be something vague, like the Brotherhood of Mutants, or the X-men.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@SgtEasy Yeah, the three post rule is still in effect. We still have 16 active characters - unless we've had any silent drops - and so really need the posting gap to let the slower players among us I.E. me, to keep up.

@Rithy That looks very cool.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@Deos Morran Could you please invite @Vulkan to the Discord. I'd do it myself, but I've no idea how it's done.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@PrivateVentures@Vulkan Only problem is that there can only be one Taveon. He's like the Highlander. Sooo we're gonna lock them both in a room and have them 'Thunderdome' the shit outta each other until only one of them can walk back out. It's the only civilized way to handle things.

Jokes aside, you can pop that over into the CS section Vulkan. You know that Didact and I have already approved it.

I'll be getting a post up tomorrow hopefully.

VIGILANCE: Blood & Justice - A Superhuman Roleplay (Always Open)

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L I S A M A R I E W A L K E R

_{Conquistador University, Paradise Hills, Los Paradiso | 11:00PM}

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Tonight is the night. The night that all the pieces were going to start falling into place, and the puzzle would become a picture. The picture, of course, was going to be of Lisa finally making this whole ‘vigilante’ shtick work. Tonight was the night.

Some part of her, the part of her brain that had always insisted on being a negative Nancy, was telling her not to get her hopes up, saying that ‘Lisa, you’ve been wearing a mask and beating these streets for almost two weeks now, and you haven’t seen a single crook yet. Haven’t even spotted anybody so much as jay-walking, littering even. Why should tonight be any different?’ “Nancy’s” logic was compelling, and the fact that it was probably true that Lisa’s bad luck would hold, and all she was in for was another night of getting soaked to the bone mixed in with a healthy bout of mind numbing boredom should have conspired to make her realise that her new interest in extra-curricular activities was a terrible idea, but the truth was it all had very little effect on Lisa’s optimism. She was going to do this, didn’t matter how hard, how boring, how illogical it might be.

She waited until she could hear Vronnie’s snoring from the room next door – the walls in their dorm were paper thin – before grabbing the duffle bag she kept stashed at the bottom of her closet, and pulled the costume out from within it. The dark material was still damp from the night before, eliciting an involuntarily shiver from her when she slipped them on, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Maybe she should have tried to sneak them into the drier earlier. At the time she had worried someone might have seen her and asked uncomfortable questions about why she was spin-drying ballistic vests and combat trousers, but now she wondered if that wouldn’t have been a small price to pay for a dry t-shirt.

She cracked her window open, driving rain near instantly gusting into her small room. T-shirt wouldn’t have been dry for long anyway, she consoled herself. She clambered out the window and onto the fire escape, pulled the shutter down behind her, and set off on her now nightly patrols. She was soaked, cold and bored within ten minutes.

Tonight better be the night.

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An alarm broke the monotony of the night, cutting through the constant patter of rain hitting concrete, and electrical hum of old street lights. It was so sudden and unexpected that Lisa nearly jumped in surprise. Got to work on that. You never see Daredevil jumping at car alarms. He’s got nerves of steel, not nerves of … copper, or whatever inferior metal it is my nerves are made from.

Fright aside, it may actually be a blessing in disguise. Alarms meant trouble, and trouble was just what she was looking for. She knew that if she wandered Downtown long enough, she’d eventually get lucky. Knowing that it was best to strike the iron while it was hot, she took off running in the direction of the alarm.

The closer she got, the louder the commotion got, raised male voices beginning to mingle with the blaring sirens. Angry voices. And lots of them. That negative Nancy voice struggled to make itself heard again, trying to warn her of how bad an idea this was. Nice girls like her really shouldn’t be getting themselves involved in what she was no doubt about to get involved in. By that point it was too late though. Lisa was at full tilt, with adrenaline and excitement coursing through her veins. The time for common sense was long over, it was all instinct now, and even if there was a cold, forbidding knot forming in her guts, she couldn’t stop her legs pumping forwards even if she wanted them to.

She turned a corner onto a wide street that looked like it was playing host to a ‘Warriors’ re-enactment. There was over two dozen young men and women involved in a chaotic rumble, every single one doing their level best to kill the others. Rocks were flung, bats were brandished, bottles smashed. There didn’t seem to be any sides to the brawl, or at least if there were sides they’d long lost any semblance of order.

She’d never seen a fight before, or not a real one at least. She’d seen plenty fight-scenes in movies – Her dad had made her watch every Chuck Norris movie out there – and she’d played enough video games that she’d thought she had a pretty good idea of what a fight should look like, but in her mind she’d pictured it flowing, like a beautiful dance or a well-choreographed street performance, moving from one perfectly planned form to another like an award winning ballerina who had been rehearsing her moves for months.

This … wasn’t that. It was dirty, and quick, and all so confusing that she had to take a moment to try and pull some sense from it, try to figure out the narrative here, figure out who was who, which guys were the bad guys and which the good. Then she watched one man stick a switch blade into another’s arm, and the severity of the situation hit her. There weren’t good guys or bad here. Just stupid people trying to hurt each other, maybe even kill one another. And if she didn’t do something, then they might just get their way.

Tonight is the night. She reminded herself. A small part of her wished it wasn’t. This could end very badly. Very, very badly. And not just for her, but for everyone involved.

Lisa took a great deep breath, set her feet apart, and –

“STOP FIGHTING” She bellowed, her voice coming out firm and strong, surprising herself with the volume and commanding tone. She had no idea she had that in her! To say she was pleased with the effort would have been an understatement. To say she was pleased with the effect on the brawlers would have been the opposite. Whether they didn’t hear her, or just plain ignored her, not one ceased their efforts in trying to brain the others. Maybe it wasn’t surprising that they didn’t pay that much attention to her, they did have their own stuff going on after all, but it was still rude all the same, and Lisa was more than a little miffed.

“Hey! I’m speaking to you!” That rod of iron that had seemed to strengthen her voice last time was gone now, replaced by the weedy tones of a petulant child not used to being ignored. It got the same results her last effort did. She took a few steps forward, berated the group again, got ignored for her efforts again. Now she was getting plain angry, and so she bent over to pick up a stray rock, and hurled it at the back of the nearest scrapper. The throw was beautiful, the aim sublime, and it cracked against the man’s bald dome, driving him from his feet and throwing him to the ground. His opponent, a teenager who had just been biting his arm like a rabid dog, and the combatants nearest too him, all looked up to see Lisa standing there, feeling quite sheepish now that she had their attentions.

“Who the hell is that?” Demanded a burly tattooed pugilist.

“Fuck knows, thought they were one of your guys.” Responded a tall, skinny woman with a crew cut, wearing shorts that showed off far too much of her pasty flesh, especially in this weather.

“Like Hell! Look how shitting tiny they are. No way we’d let them in the Crew. That’s Thirds material if I’ve ever seen it.” Tattoos retorted, before turning to Lisa and pointing a finger at her. “Hey! Cunt! Who’d the fuck you think you are?”

Lisa, quite taken aback by the exchange, and the profanity displayed, struggled to find a suitable response, eventually settling for a confused “Uhhh…” Before she had a chance to improve on that unforgettable introduction the skinny woman piped up once more.

“Fuck it, let’s just splatter the fucker, then I can get back to fucking you Crew-Bastards up.” There were several nods of approval to this, and before Lisa really knew what was happening, five gang-members were advancing on her, intent on making her vigilante career a remarkably short affair. She took a back step, all of a sudden regretting the recent life decisions that had brought her to this place immensely.

Why did tonight have to be the night?

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

I've always preferred DC to Marvel. Favorite heroes are, in no particular order: Nightwing, Batman, Aquaman, Cyclops and Marvel's Hercules. Ok, I lied. That was in order.

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

In case anyone would like a visual aid this -



is how I'm picturing ol' Bill.

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

The Heir to Thunder

_{Prince Faen Lokison}

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The Prince of Lies hadn’t actually gotten very far from the Sanctum Sanctorum when his afternoon amble was disturbed. Disturbed here being a very mild way of describing how his stroll was interrupted by the sky above going from a calm summer blue to sullen winter grey in the space of a heartbeat, foreboding black storm clouds gathering above New York in a roiling tempest, threatening the mother of all monsoons. Rain did not come, thank God, but the clouds lit up with jagged streaks of lighting, and seconds later the firmaments exploded with an eardrum shattering kra-cooom! Nearby New-Yorkers threw their hands over their ears, squealing in pain or shock, while simultaneously running for cover from the deluge they were sure was to come. None kept the wherewithal about them to spot the small black dot emerge from the cloud cover and fall from the heavens.

None except Faen.

He watched the object fall faster and faster, realising with sudden clarity that it was going to come down somewhere nearby, no more than a block away. Without wasting anymore time he took off in the direction of where he estimated it was going to come down, his chest tight with excitement. He had a pretty good idea of just what, or more specifically who, the visitor from the skies was, and he wanted to be the first to say ‘welcome back’ when they touched down.

It seemed the storm-rider was going to land in an alleyway, and Faen was just around the corner when he heard the thump of impact. Not the most auspicious of places for the Thunderer’s grand return, but then, who was Faen to complain, he was living in a motel under a freeway that was so filthy that even roaches thought twice about staying overnight.

He turned the corner at breakneck pace, words spilling from him before he’d even gotten a good look at the God of Thunder.

“THOR! YOU’VE FINALLY – hold on a moment, you’re not Thor …” His race came to a screeching halt in the face of the strange-looking interloper he had taken for Earth’s absentee Asgardian guardian. The beast certainly wore Asgardian inspired armour, though it seemed to have been designed by an arts student who had watched far too much Tron, and it carried a golden hammer, though that was the sum total of similarities between it and Thor. It’s face was long and equine, clearly alien, though it had the body of a man, just much, much larger. It took Faen a moment to realize who he was looking at, remembering the horse-man from decades old vids from the Avengers early adventures. “Wait, I know who you are. You’re Beta Ray Bill. What on earth are you doing here?”

On closer inspection Faen realised that someone had put Bill through the ringer. His armour was shattered in places, and his fine cape was torn into tatters. His hammer still looked undamaged, though it was coated in a red-brown substance that looked suspiciously like dried blood. There was one uncomfortably large looking wound in the alien’s side that was leaking blood, and another across his jawline. The look of him made the Lokison incredibly nervous. Bill was supposed to be as tough as Thor, maybe even tougher. Whoever did this to him must have been an unbelievably powerful individual, and if they were anywhere nearby Faen might be in some serious trouble.

Bill’s injuries were obviously making him sluggish, slow even, and it took him a long moment to realize he wasn’t alone, even longer for him to focus in on the half-breed Jotun. Though when he did his eyes narrowed and he raised his hammer high, not quite the reaction Faen had been hoping for.

“Loki!” the hammer-wielder growled, his voice husky and low, “I may be laid low, but I still have mettle enough to deal with a snake such as you!” Before Faen could say a word in his defence the alien took a lurching step forward, stumbled, fell onto his face, and straight into unconsciousness. Only then did Faen see the massive wound on his back, the normally brown flesh burnt near black, looking more like an overly charred steak than someone’s healthy skin. Something had hit Bill, and hit him hard.

The Lokison stood in silence for a moment, before stepping forward and kicking Bill in the side, none to gently, to see if he really was out. He was.

“Well … Fuck.”

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Magnus Arhakaine

_{Location: The Crossed Swords Tavern
Interacting With: The graveyard caretaker}

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A bowl of stew and a mug of ale was dropped in front of Magnus. He ate methodically, robotically almost, simply filling his body with fuel rather than taken any enjoyment in the meal, his eyes never leaving the caretaker’s form. Not that the old drouth even realised he was being scrutinized so closely, being far more intent on drowning himself with ale, too wrapped up in his business to even consider paying attention to a stranger by the fire.

This one stinks of guilt, he swordsman mused to himself, taking in the man’s hunched shoulders, the way he adamantly avoided the eyes of the tavern wench who refilled his emptied flagon, how he shivered uncontrollably even though the Crossed Swords hearth boasted a blazing fire, that suffused the room with a comfortable heat. Even money bet that the cause of his consternation is linked to the deplorable state of his charge.

The adventurer emptied the bowl of stew before getting from his chair and, with his mead in hand, slowly crossed the tavern towards the caretaker, movements calm and measured, so as not to startle the older man. There was no real need though, as the man was so deep in his cups that he didn’t even notice Magnus’ presence until the warrior eased himself onto the stool next to him. The swordsman let a tense silence deepen for a few, long heartbeats before saying anything.

“Someone’s been digging all your town’s corpses up old man”, he stated without preamble. “I’m fixing on finding out why. Reckon you can help me answer that question. And don’t bother lying to me, or saying you know nowt. Do that, and I’m like to get markedly less civilized.” He took a pull of his mead while waiting for the caretaker to answer.

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

@Demon Shinobi Very nice sheet. Accepted.