An Outsider

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

Cheers guys. Seeing you all speak about games I've never heard of, I can honestly say that I've never felt like less of a nerd in my life.

Mass Effect: Underworld

Yeah, from the point of view of the Spectres, Tye has come out of this first mission with high marks.

Young Justice est. 2020 iCheck

@Burning Kitty Why not just try another character?

Young Justice est. 2020 iCheck

@Just The Wind Competing app, incoming.

@The Kid Lantern Looks like I got Nike up just in time then.

Young Justice est. 2020 iCheck

You face a true daughter of the Amazons this day, knave! Put down that purse, and pray to mighty Zeus that I grant you mercy!

Name

Nike, daughter of Hippolyta

Alias

Wonder Girl

Age

17

Sponsor

Wonder Woman

Personality

Headstrong, compassionate, honest

Experience

Full seventeen years training as an Amazonian, eight months as a superhero

Powers

• Super strength.
• Super speed.
• Super reactions.
• Super durability.
• Super stamina.
• Decelerated aging.
• Enhanced martial skills, with an emphasis on sword fighting and archery.
• Physical stats increase when gripped by ‘the Red Mist’.

Weaknesses

• Headstrong, and arrogant about her abilities. Can lead to her making easily avoided tactical mistakes.
• Loss of control during ‘the Red Mist’ can see her lash out at friends and allies.
• Mistrusting of men.
• Many of her father’, Herakles, enemies often think to hurt him by striking at her. Can be seen as a magnet for trouble.
• Little understanding of ‘Man’s World’, or its workings.

BRIEF Bio

Since he was born so long ago, Herakles life has gone in cycles. The cycle goes crime, punishment, then redemption. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it always will be. Crime, punishment, redemption. He is as much victim of this cycle as anyone else. Perhaps this, more than any other reason, is why Queen Hippolyta forgave the demi-god for his past wrongdoings when her daughter Diana found him supporting their island of Themyscira, penance for his offences against her people. Whatever the reason for her forgiving him, the two eventually fell into an ill-fated and ill-advised relationship. It wasn’t to last though, and it wasn’t before long before the God of Strenth left the Queen of the Amazons, in search of adventures new.

Little did he know that Herakles had left Hippolyta with a gift to remember him by: a daughter. The first child born on Paradise Isle since Diana herself. Many of the Amazonians who had yet to forgive Herakles were incensed at this turn of events, even if the father had no inkling as to the child’s existence. They insisted that she be exiled from the island. However Hippolyta overruled the dissidents, and declared that her second daughter, who she named Nike, would indeed live upon Paradise Island as one of the Amazonians. Yes, there were grumblers, but most were wise enough to keep their grumblings out of earshot of the Queen.

For the next seventeen years Nike was raised by not just one mother, but a whole island of them. Nearly all of Themyscira’s inhabitants loved her, and were more than happy to work together in raising the Amazons youngest daughter. Philosophy, science, arts, war, she was trained in it all, though truth be told it was the martial disciplines that interested her the most, with many noting that was a trait clearly inherited from her father. Whatever the reason, Nike excelled at combat, and longed for the day that she could swap training swords for true steel, though she imagined that day would still be years away.

So imagine her surprise when her sister and mother approached her one day, and asked her to travel with Diana to man’s world, to help her in her fight against crime and injustice, to join her in her crusade for peace. At first Nike was hesitant, wishing to remain on the Paradise Isle with the other Amazons, but eventually Diana and Hippolyta convinced her that travelling into the unknown world around them would be an adventure like no other for the young woman, and would give her many opportunities to test her mettle against foes both powerful and numerous. They appealed to her warrior’s pride, and she was quickly all too eager to leave.

For several months she served as Diana’s second, lending her any and all aid in pursuing justice, while also learning valuable lessons about being a hero from her older, more experienced sister. It wasn’t enough though, not according to Diana. Man’s world was so different from Paradise Isle, and there were so many new rules to learn, codes of conduct that she struggled to make Nike comprehend. Eventually Wonder Woman realised that as an outsider herself, she would never be able to instil all the finer points about living in Man’s World to her younger sister. To do that, one would have to had lived there their whole lives, to understand the modern world as only one born and raised there would.

That was when the League decided to instate the Young Justice programme, and Diana knew just where her younger sister could learn those lessons, and make herself some friends in the process.

Notes

• Nike is named for Nike, the Goddess of Victory, to signify the Amazonians triumphing over their hatred of Herakles and the ancient crimes he had committed against them.
• Nike wears Amazonian armour into battle, and wields a spear, sword, shield, and bow. Unlike Diana, none of her weapons are God-forged, though she would like some.
• Nike sometimes wonders if there weren’t other reasons that factored into her mother and sisters hasty decision to take her from Paradise Isle. The more she thinks on it, the more she thinks that the whole thing was incredibly rushed, with very little forward planning involved.

SAMPLE POST

The swords came together with a metal clang, sparks dancing as the blades scraped together. The two warriors grunted as their bodies slammed together, and they each jostled for position.

”I still don’t understand why I must join this group of children,” Nike growled through grit teeth as she used her free hand to grab the other fighters wrist, and tried to use that to leverage her opponents blade away. “I am a more experienced fighter than any of them. All of them combined, even.”

At that moment the other fighter reversed the grip that Nike was trying to complete, and used that hold to flip Nike up and over their shoulder, slamming the young Amazonian onto the floor. Before Nike could make another move her opponent’s sword tapped against her throat.

“Not so experienced that you couldn’t use a little more training.” A face came into view above her, a familiar face. Smiling, beautiful, dark locks framing an olive tanned face. The world knew her as Wonder Woman. Nike knew her as Diana, her older sister.

“Not fair, you’ve been doing this far longer than I.” A frown worked across Nike’s features, and if she wasn’t mistaken that just made Diana smile all the wider. “Besides, all that shows is I need more training from you. Help me up?”

Diana grabbed Nike’s outstretched hand and hauled her back to her feet, before wiping non-existent dirt from her younger sister’s armour. Nike squirmed at the fussing, forcing Diana’s hands away. The older Amazon grinned again at her younger sister, before hooking her foot under Nike’s dropped weapon and flipping it over to its owner. The young warrior caught it expertly, and dropped into a fighter’s crouch, though Wonder Woman didn’t look like she wanted to go back to sparring yet. Looked more like she wanted to continue talking. Great.

“I won’t suddenly stop training you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Said Diana, gesturing with her sword point casually. ”But I think that you would benefit having some friends of your own age. I have the Justice League, after all.” Nike’s face screwed up. Friends? With these inhabitants of Man’s World? Thieves and criminals. That was the calibre of people who lived in these lands. And Diana wanted her to make nice with them?

“I know that face Nike. I know what you’re thinking. They’re not all like that. Our adventures make you see them at their worst. I think it’s time for you to see them at their best. This team will allow you to do so. Please, join them. For me.”

Nike groaned aloud, turning her face up to the heavens. Hera, give me strength. Diana knew that she could deny her nothing, not when she asked like that.

“That isn’t fair. Emotional blackmail is a dirty tactic.” She groaned. Diana chuckled, deep and throaty, full of life and good humour. As well it should be, though Nike, seeing as the woman was getting her way. Again.

“All things are fair in love and war little sister. Does this mean that you will go to the Team?”

“Only if you can beat me.” Responded Nike, launching into another attack, sword a blur. The clashing of steel rang out alongside the laughter of the two sisters, the outcome of the fight, and Nike’s future, already settled.

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

I hope @Kalas is taking notes, seeing as he's the one 'villainous' character we've got.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@MrDidact The real question is 'which member of the team is the guy in the yellow shirt who takes the burger to the snoz?'

Mass Effect: Underworld

If you want to post, go ahead! There's still time for interaction.

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

@Divine Darkness Can't anyone just learn responsibility without their parents dying anymore? Damn kids nowadays. In my day we had to learn responsibility through hard work and graft.

@BlackPanther In that case, here's some more reading for you!

@oakman Thanks for letting us know. What's the novel about? And thanks for the compliment. I don't really read any Marvel at all anymore. Too many events for me too keep up with.

Marvel REBORN (ALWAYS OPEN!)

The Heir to Thunder

_{Prince Faen Lokison}

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_{Interacting with: @BlackPanther}

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Faen half climbed, half rolled back onto his feet, just in time to see a glinting knife come arking in towards his face. He managed to block it, but just barely, and only through sheer luck, his kneejerk reaction of throwing both arms over his face saving his life, the blade careening off the golden vambraces that were strapped to his arms. It probably would have looked a lot more impressive if he hadn’t shrieked like a girl while doing so. Not that the Dökkálfar gave him much time to dwell on that, as she was quick to press forward her advantage, coming at the half-breed in a hail of blows, spinning and twisting like a ballerina, feet, knees, fists, elbows and knives licking out in a constant barrage that Faen was – just – able to dodge for the moment, though it was only a matter of time until he stopped getting so lucky. He doubted the Dark Elf was the kind to forgo a kill wound if she got the chance for one.

Need a plan, a strategy, a trick! Anything to level the playing field. He was so busy trying not to get killed that he really couldn’t spare any thought for the unfortunate civilian who had happened upon this epic battle between good and evil, so for all Faen knew the man was already dead, half-mulched in the Hellhound’s stomach. Imagine his surprise then, when instead of having become puppy-chow, the next he seen of the man he was standing with his hands in pockets, looking as casual as if he was at a wedding reception for his best friend – that best friend apparently being the bird creature who had so recently tried to bisect the Prince of Lies – and as nonchalantly as you like asked Faen if he ‘needed some help.’ Faen decided that he hated that man. Hated him very much indeed.

_{“Oh, no, I’m fine, just dandy,”} Faen muttered through clenched teeth while using a trash can lid to try and beat away the Dark Elfs searching knife-thrusts. He finally managed to knock the knife from his assailant’s grip, before throwing the lid at her face, which she handily dodged by cartwheeling away, coming to a graceful stop with another knife in hand. Where, for the love of God, was she getting all these from? Now that he had some space, he could properly respond to the blonde civilian – who Faen was starting to seriously doubt was a joe-regular civilian. “OF COURSE I NEED HELP, YOU DAMNED IMBECILE!”

Of course with Faen’s luck that help would be a long time coming, as at that moment the Behemoth shattered moth-moulds hold, grey sludge and shattered slivers of insect wings bursting in all directions. The six-armed giant roared aloud, shaking his fists at the skies, though whether it was in triumph or rage, Faen really couldn’t say. All he could think was that, right in that moment, he’d really rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else, really.

“Balls” He groaned, certain that the Behemoth’s next move would be to splatter him into the pavement. He couldn’t imagine the big guy was going to be too friendly towards his would-be captor. Fortunately – and Faen really hated himself for thinking like this – the monster instead fixed its attention on the closest person too it, who in this instance was the blonde civilian. With a snarl the huge invader stomped towards the human, pausing only briefly as the bird-creature slammed its axe down upon its allies’ shoulder. The blow had little effect, well, beyond the Behemoth casually slapped the bonebird aside, the avian being thrown from its feet by the shocking force to smash out of the alley and into the street. The giant continued its slow advance, grinning at the blonde civilian, gore stained tusks protruding out at odd angles.

Back to Faen’s more immediate concerns, the Dökkálfar had renewed her attack, slashing a knife out at his eyes, which he narrowly avoided, just to discover that attack had been a feint, and her real assault came in the form of a straight kick to the solar plexus. The air whooshed from Faen’s lungs as he was sent sprawling backwards, to collapse coughing and spluttering in a garbage heap, the filled-to-overflowing stinking refuse sacks providing a surprisingly comfortable landing. Not a great ego booster though, he had to admit.

“Well, it’s been interesting human, but all things come to a close. This is yours.” The Dökkálfar paced towards him, spinning the razor-sharp knife between her fingers casually. She raised the blade above him, ready to come plunging down, ready to end his life. Between coughs he managed to life up a finger, the universally accepted sign for ‘one second, please’. Or at least he hoped it was universally accepted. Would be incredibly annoying to find out that Dark Elves had a different gesture for it, or even worse, one finger in the air being some kind of insult. Luckily she seemed to get the message, and paused a moment, a moment which he filled with more wheezing and coughing. “Haste now human, I don’t have ...” She was cut off by Faen hurling a bag of garbage at her. With lightning swiftness, she ducked to the side, at the same time cutting through the bag with her knife, waste and rubbish spilling out in a partial-liquidised glop.

The Dark Elf sneered her disgust, before looking back towards Faen had been lying, only to find that the half-breed was gone. The invader looked surprised only for a second, before her face hardened.

“Sloppy human, you’ve used this trick already.” And so saying she reversed the grip on her knife and slammed it behind her. She was rewarded by the hefty, meaty resistance that spoke of metal entering flesh, and a pained exhalation of air, a slight oof sound, like air escaping a balloon. She twisted slowly, to see the Prince of Lies doubled over, her knife hilt deep in his belly. A killing stroke, no doubt about it. A slow death, yes, but a death nonetheless. She was momentarily saddened by this. The man had fought well, if unorthodoxly, and so it seemed an injustice for him to suffer such an ignoble end. Still, he was her enemy she told herself, and so he had to die. The form of his passing was regretful, but still necessary.

“You fought bravely, Midgardian. If Valhalla still accepts your kind, I have no doubts that its doors will be open to you.” She pulled yet another knife from a hidden sheathe as Faen fell to the dirt, panting uncontrollably as his blood pooled around him. She knelt close to him and held the blade up to his eyes. “I can ease your passing, if you so wish? A gut wound is no way to die. A slit throat would be far gentler, and swifter.” The wounded half breed eyed up the blade dispassionately before gesturing for the Dökkálfar to come in closer. She was momentarily suspicious, before deciding that he obviously had some desperate last words to pass on, and wanted to make sure she heard them. She decided that since she had killed him, the least she could do was listen. She leant in.

_{“What about this trick?”} He whispered, the tiniest of grins worming across his features.

Confusion gripped her, what kind of last words were these? Then that familiar suspicion resurfaced, wait, trick. What trick? Then, finally, horror. He’d lain a trap, and she’d fallen for it. She shot back to her feet, spinning, certain he’d snuck up on her again. She was right, on both accounts, the Faen-shaped fist rocketing into her face being pretty good confirmation of that fact. The blow cracked into her aquiline nose, part-Jotun enhanced strength making up for his lack of technique, knocking her unconscious to fall exactly where the dying-Faen was. Or had been. The injured party was gone now.

“Illusion based body doubles. Very useful for the impromptu ménage à trois. Or faking your death, I guess, but that’s not nearly as fun.” The half-breed tapped the Dark Elf with his foot to make sure she was really out. She was. He turned his attention back to the rest of the fight while shaking out his fist and blowing on the stung knuckles. No one ever tells you just how much it hurts to punch someone in the nose.