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Opinionated nerd for hire.

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In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
<Snipped quote by AndyC>

My personal theory is that she was rescued by a roving band of interdimensional wizards and is now spending some much needed time just being a kid in a realm ruled by benevolent fairies.


Dude, spoilers!
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Yoo I liked queen Perdita because of young justice. Don't do me like this bro..


To be fair, I did leave it ambiguous as to what actually happened to her. Maybe she got dusted, maybe she's sitting in a dungeon in Castle Doom. Depends on how nice or mean I'm feeling.
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Victory Square, at the foot of Castle Doom
Doomstadt (formerly known as Hassenstadt)
Latveria

Six Months Ago


"My brothers and sisters," Lucia von Bardas began as she approached the podium, "After the long, bitter fighting that has seen so many suffer needlessly, we have at long last toppled the rotten, clapped-out regime that had been afflicted upon us for so long!"

A thunderous din of triumphant cheers rose from the throng of loyal followers before her. Next to her on the dais, a haggard, beaten man was forced on his knees, trembling and crying, a pair of green-armored DoomBots flanking him on either side.

"Vladimir Vassily Gonereo Tristian Mangegi Fortunov," she addressed her prisoner, drawing out his long name in almost mocking tones. "Former Prime Minister of an illegitimate government. For nearly thirty years, you danced on strings pulled by NATO, propagating their lies and their deceit. Time and time again, Latveria has been given empty promises of autonomy, of 'greater standing in the international community,' of free and fair trade, only for more restrictions and sanctions to be placed upon us! Time and time again, you signed away land that rightfully belonged to the Latverian people, for the benefit of NATO and EU pet projects that have only done us harm! And each time you tell us to swallow their tripe, each time you tell us to settle for less, you line your own pockets with their dirty money!"

The tens of thousands in attendance roared with boos and cries of anger.

"The people of Latveria have said no more!" Lucia bellowed. "We have seen the way forward, and it is not dancing to the tune of the Western pigs. The way forward is that promised to us by one of our own, the genius who brought us onto the world stage, who made the White House and the Kremlin tremble! This is the way of destiny! The way of fate! The Way of Doom!"

Lucia paused to bask in the cacophonous applause, before turning back to the beaten man.

"And your doom, comrade Fortunov," she said, drawing a pistol from the inside of her jacket, "is sealed."

The gunshot rang out through the air, followed by another deafening roar of triumph from the crowd as Fortunov's body slumped forward, before falling off the dais and into the crowd, who proceeded to stomp and tear at the corpse until there was nothing recognizable left.

"The Way of Doom has saved the people of Latveria, my brothers and sisters," Von Bargas beckoned, "but our work is far from over! There are many yet who still cry out under the lash of the corrupt and the incompetent. Our brothers and sisters in Symkaria, in Sokovia, in Pokolistan, we hear your call! Our friends and comrades in South America, in East Asia, we share your struggle! Even our perceived enemies in Russia, in China, in America....they, too, will see the way to that shining future! In time, all will know the power and glory of Doom!"

The cheers had grown so loud, the voices of the Latverian people shook the dais.

"Doom," she called out the now familiar chant, "does not beg!"

"DOOM! the voices chanted back in unison, "DOES! NOT! BEG!"

"Doom denies death!"

"DOOM! DENIES! DEATH!"

"DOOM IS SUPREME!"

"DOOM! IS! SUPREME!"




Von Eeden, Kingdom of Vlatava

Four Months Ago


"Come, my queen!" shouted Grieg von Krupp over the immense noise of the helicopter's engines as its rotors began to spin. "The Legion has breached the palace! We must get you to safety!"

Her eyes wet with tears of panic and confusion, a tiny young girl scrambled across the tarmac, clutching a stuffed bear as if her life depended on it. Flanked by heavily-armed bodyguards who harried her forward, Queen Perdita Vladek ran towards the waiting chopper as fast as she could, sobbing uncontrollably.

"M-make it stop!" the ten-year-old Queen wailed as the staccato bark of assault-rifle fire sounded from inside the palace less than a hundred yards behind her. "I w-want it to s-stop!"

Grieg von Krupp had been the bodyguard of the Vlatavan royal family for twenty years, and it was a job he took very seriously. All the more so after King Bruno Vladek had died from a stroke five years ago, and Queen Perdova succumbed to lung cancer two years ago, leaving the young heiress an orphan. For the past two years, Queen Perdita had been surrounded by political enemies, ambitious Parliament members and jealous nobles who wanted the throne for themselves. On more than one occasion, von Krupp had rooted out plots against the child Queen from her scheming uncle, the now-banished Count Werner Vertigo.

Count Vertigo vowed revenge for his humiliation at the hands of a child. And von Krupp had vowed he would see Vertigo dead before any harm would come to Perdita.

"You're almost there, my queen!" von Krupp encouraged her. "Just a little further!"

The attack had come like lightning, beginning only that very morning. After weeks of posturing against the neighboring nation of Symkaria, the Legion of Doom had revealed their sabre-rattling was merely a feint, launching a surprise offensive into the smaller kingdom of Vlatava instead. While the Vlatavan Royal Guard had been on high alert for months ever since the Latverian Civil War earlier in the year, the small nation could only mobilize a miniscule force, mostly outfitted with decades-old equipment from the days of the Soviet occupation. The Legion, on the other hand, seemed centuries ahead of Queen Perdita's forces, and had blown her army away like dandelions.

Bram Velsing, the now-infamous 'Dread Knight,' had issued the invasion at 8 AM local time. By noon, the Legion had reached the capital city.

A ear-splitting roar tore through the air overhead, as an old fighter jet-- a well-worn MiG-21 LanceR, its simple triangular wings and cylindrical fuselage repainted with the blue-teal-and-gold stripes of the Vlatavan flag-- swooped low above the palace, attempting to cover the royal family's escape by strafing the invaders with machine-gun fire from above. As it spewed bullets down into the mass of green-uniformed soldiers, however, the LanceR erupted into a dark orange fireball, the sudden wave of immense heat and percussive shock from the blast knocking the young Queen to the pavement.

"Come on, get up, get up!" von Krupp begged as he tried to pull the girl to her feet. "Just a little more to go and--"

There was a flash of red light, and the helicopter at the end of the tarmac exploded. In the split-second he had to act, von Krupp tackled Perdita to the pavement, feeling a sudden sharp sting in his lower back before everything became a blur of fire and pain.

Grieg was not sure how much time had passed--seconds, minutes, years-- before his senses returned to him.

The other bodyguards were strewn around him, some burning from being splashed with ignited fuel, others torn to shreds by shrapnel. As he fought through the agony that wracked his body tried to pull himself to his feet, Grieg realized he could not move his legs. A sharp, blinding pain drove him back down onto his face, and he fumbled with one free hand for the source of it, finding a long, jagged shard of metal lodged in his back.

On the ground in front of him, Queen Perdita clutched her stuffed bear, curled into a ball, her face stained with soot and tears.

"H-help...." she whimpered. "P-please....help...."

"D-d-do not w-worry....m-my queen," Grieg tried to console her through gritted teeth, fighting against the excruciating pain as he crawled towards her. "I w-won't let anyone h-hurt you..."

"A touching sentiment, von Krupp," came a familiar mocking voice from behind them, as a figure marched down the tarmac along a cadre of soldiers. "But I'm afraid it matters very little what you will and will not let us do."

"Count Vertigo," Grieg spat out the name like poison.

"That would be King Vertigo now, worm," the blonde one-eyed man in formal attire corrected him, his tone full of triumph. "I have suffered the indignity of serving under this miserable brat for quite long enough. The time has come for a change in Vlatava. I see a new way for the kingdom, and my new allies have been so very helpful in bringing this new way about."

The roar of rocket engines filled the air around them as another figure approached from the sky. An enormous figure in thick purple and black armor, its helmet shaped and painted to resemble a stylized skull, the Dread Knight made the ground tremble with the impact of his landing.

"Queen Perdita Vladek," the Dread Knight's voice boomed from his suit's external speakers, "For generations, your family has held back your subjects, clinging to the outdated notions of kings and nobles. The Way of Doom has no place for these relics."

"N-never," Grieg von Krupp sputtered, fumbling for his service pistol. "I-I'll die...before I l-let you h-hurt her!"

The Dread Knight turned his death's-head mask to the crippled man, and held out an open hand.

"Yes," he said, "That is precisely what you will do."

”Please, no….don’t….I beg you….”

Velsing snorted with derision. ”Doom does not beg.”

For a split second, Grieg von Krupp saw a flash of red light, and felt an intense flash of searing heat.

Then, he neither saw nor felt anything ever again.



Markovburg, Principality of Markovia

Two Months Ago


"Everyone take cover!" Brion Markov bellowed out orders amidst the gunfire and explosions. "I'll hold them off!"

With a strained grunt, Brion thrust his right hand up, motioning like an uppercut punch at the column of advancing tanks. The thunder of shifting stone rang out as the earth heaved upward, tossing the dark green tanks in all directions.

After Vlatava had fallen, the other satellite nations near Latveria fell like dominoes. Akenbourg, Barania, Kasnia, and Modora all capitulated within two weeks of each other. Transia, Alberia, Attania, and Nrosvekistan were soon to follow. In some instances, the Legion of Doom had poured across the borders and crushed their opposition like the fist of an angry god. In others, the government would simply roll over and capitulate without a shot being fired. Little by little, one pocket-kingdom and rump-state at a time, the bloc of nations that had broken away from the Soviet Union in the 1950s and 60s and sworn allegiance to Viktor van Domashev were being brought back into the fold.

The Principality of Markovia had been next on that list. But the Legion of Doom would find this country to be made of sterner stuff.

"You dare to come to my country," Brion growled, ripping boulders out of the ground and hurling them at the Doomist soldiers, "threaten my family, my people! And you have the gall to call our ways backwards, while peddling the well-worn lies of a long-dead madman!"

As a Legion VTOL drone launched a rocket at him, Brion stomped his foot into the ground, sprouting up a massive wall of stone around him. While the rocket blasted the rock to pieces, Brion stood unharmed, then with a wave of his hand, launched the rubble into the sky to fill the air with flak that perforated the invading drones.

"So long as I stand, Markovia stands!" he bellowed, a one-man earthquake, crushing his enemies with flying boulders, swallowing up others with huge fissures in the ground. Brion Markov stood against the might of the Legion of Doom, and for a time, stopped them dead in their tracks.

But only for a time.

"Your tenacity is to be commended," called out a voice, seemingly from all directions at once, "but this battle is over. The Markov family has ignored the pleas of its people for years; do not presume to act as their champion and protector now that their liberators have come."

"Liberators?!" Brion scoffed. "I have seen the type of 'liberation' your Legion brings. You have prisoners shot, hanged, or impaled in public! You round up populations like cattle to be brainwashed in your camps!"

"We remove the dross of society," the voice retorted, almost condescending. "Corrupt officials, gangsters, murderers, rapists, the predators and parasites that their old governments ignored or empowered. And yes, those who we have liberated must then be instructed in the Way of Doom, only so that they may find their new purposes, their new destinies. There is no place for mere 'cattle' among us."

"Spare me the propaganda," he sneered. "You and your jack-booted thugs are no different from every other tin-pot dictator to prophesy some brave new world. And you will collapse and die just like the others."

Brion felt a sudden sharp sting in his neck, and within seconds, his limbs began to feel numb.

"Oh, I believe you will find us quite different from the failed philosophies that came before us," came the calm, almost academic voice of Kristoff Vernard as he materialized next to Brion, a now-emptied syringe in his hand. "And we do not plan on dying out any time soon."

As Brion's senses blurred, he felt his body fall forward, only to be caught by powerful mechanical arms.

"After all....Doom denies death."



Port of Los Angeles, California

Now


"--claim credit for the bombing in Nairomi, making this the fourth time in just as many weeks that an insurgency in the third world can be tied to them. And make no mistake, folks, the People's Liberation Legion is very much a terrorist organization, designed to spread instability around the world to make it that much easier for their puppet-masters in Doomstadt to scoop them up later! The regime may be new, but their methods are the exact sort of stuff Doctor Doom himself was carrying out during the Cold War. Latch on to the fringe groups of society, then marginalize, disenfranchise, radicalize, and weaponize them! Have them do all your dirty work, softening up your targets for the bigger war to come!

"And while all this is going on, pundits on both sides play the same tired old blame game-- the Right throws them in with the Marxists, the Left lumps them in with the Fascists. And this only lets the Neo-Doomist movement recruit from the extreme ends of the aisle equally! Joining me tonight to discuss what exactly makes this dangerous movement so seductive to the loonies and losers of the world, my guest--"

"Uhhh, hey boss? I think you might want to take a look at this."

*CLICK!*

Harbor Master Bill Warrant switched off the small TV on his desk, and looked up at the stevedore who had come into his office.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I dunno, maybe," the stevedore answered, approaching with a tablet. "The Green Harvest finally pulled in, and delivered her cargo manifest, and....and it's all blank."

Bill frowned. The Green Harvest had been a publicity nightmare for weeks, after getting stuck in the Suez Canal for several days, making both the Harvest itself and hundreds of other cargo ships incredibly late with their deliveries. The company had been made a laughingstock by one captain’s astounding incompetence, and things weren’t helped by tinfoil-hat types claiming they had seen other ships approaching the Harvest in the middle of the night, unloading its cargo and replacing it with other containers. A blank cargo manifest wasn’t going to help those wacko rumors.

”Right,” Bill sniffed, getting up from his chair and getting ready to tear the captain of the Green Harvest a new behind, ”If this dumbass can’t even steer a boat in a straight line, I guess filling out his paperwork is going to be too much for him to bother with too. Gimme a minute, and I’ll be down there to give this guy a piece of my mind.”

Several minutes later, Bill stormed out onto the wide loading dock where the enormous cargo ship was moored, cranes having already unloaded a dozen shipping containers before he arrived.

”Hold on, hold on, what the hell is all this?” he yelled to the workers who seemed to ignore him as they went about their tasks. ”Nobody told you to start unloading the ship! Get this stuff back on until—“

”Excuse me, Harbor Master Warrant?” a distinctly European man called him by name as he approached.

Bill raised an eyebrow, growing wary. ”….yeah, that’s me. How did you—“

”I was instructed to meet with you upon our arrival,” the blonde man answered. ”I believe I can provide some answers to questions you must be asking yourself.”

”Boss, what the hell’s going on?” the stevedore asked, growing uneasy himself. ”I don’t recognize any of the crew out here.”

”If I may?” the mystery man asked, before turning and shouting. ”Lazlo! Franz! The container!”

With crisp, almost mechanical movements, two of the deckhands put down their work and approached the nearest container. Undoing the latch, the two of them swung the steel doors wide open. Inside the container were row after row of black rectangular crates.

The deckhands then pulled one of the crates out of the container, setting it down before the Harbor Master. Typing in the pass code on the crate’s keypad lock, they lifted the lid to show its contents.

”H-hey now, this isn’t—“ Bill stammered. ”…oh my God, it is…”

Inside the crate were a half dozen state-of-the-art military-grade automatic rifles. Bill had heard about these on some of the chat groups he frequented. Using electromagnetic rails instead of gunpowder, they projected bullets at hypersonic velocities, allowing a 9mm round to hit with the force of a traditional .50 cal, and did so without a muzzle flash and barely a whisper. What’s more, they could be fitted with any number of modifications, from increasing the rate of fire to that of a conventional minigun, to increasing the distance to rival those of the leading sniper rifles.

Given the size of the container and how many crates were in it, there must have been nearly a thousand rifles in the single container alone. And considering how many containers were aboard the Green Harvest….

”Jesus Christ,” the stevedore muttered. ”You could set up a whole friggin’ army with—“

*BLAM!*

The stevedore fell to the concrete, a hole punched straight through his right temple and out the left side of his skull.

Harbor Master Bill Warrant lowered the smoking pistol, and turned to the blonde stranger.

”It’s really happening?”, he asked, sweat beading on his brow.

”Very soon, my friend, very soon,” he answered. ”The day is very nearly at hand, and you will be one of the heroes who helped bring it about.”

Bill struggled to catch his breath, then finally drew himself up, and put his right fist to his chest.

”Doom is supreme,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement.

The blonde man grinned. ”Doom is supreme.”
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
CHARACTER CONCEPT
LEGION OF DOOM




Political Radical Sect / Terrorist Organization ♦ People's Democratic Republic of Latveria
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

"Doom does not beg! Doom denies death! Doom is supreme!"

In the wake of the Second World War and the end of the first wave of costumed super-humans, most were all too willing to turn a blind eye to the far corners of the world for the sake of returning to some semblance of normalcy. While organizations like the Strategic Science Reserve led investigations into the JSA, behind the Iron Curtain a new power was rising.

Viktor van Domashev, a high-ranking member of Stalin's inner circle from the Soviet satellite state of Latveria, executed a stunning coup in the wake of the dictator's death. Espousing a radical totalitarian philosophy referred to simply as "the Way of Doom," van Domashev effectively split the Soviet Union in two, converting millions to his radical ways and defending his new empire against the forces of the USSR and NATO alike with a menagerie of technological horrors. By 1960, Nikita Kruschev and Soviet ICBMs seemed like a quaint annoyance compared to the threat posed by the man the American press had named "Doctor Doom."

While many feared that an invasion from Doomstadt was imminent, even a mind as formidable as Doctor Doom was not without equal. The brilliant Reed Richards quickly rose to prominence in the West, and he and his family of misfit adventurers dubbed the "Fantastic Four" (a team of "adventure scientists," a name carefully picked to avoid connections to the controversial super-heroes of the 1940s) would stymie Doom's attempts at global domination time and time again. In 1966, Viktor van Domashev and the Fantastic Four engaged in a final battle, with all vanishing in the aftermath, seemingly destroyed. Without the brilliance and charisma of Doctor Doom at its helm, the Latverian Empire quickly came undone, and was reabsorbed back into the USSR. Despite being written off as dramatic but ultimately brief distraction in the wider history of the Cold War, many still believed in the philosophy of the Way of Doom, and Neo-Doomist militias and terrorist cells would crop up over the next sixty years, typically put down quickly by organizations such as SHIELD.

In recent years, however, while the eyes of the world have turned to the likes of Superman and other colorful personae in the West, a new movement has begun in Latveria, Viktor Van Domashev's old seat of power. An extremely well-funded, well-organized, and well-trained paramilitary organization has begun a civil war against the corrupt and incompetent NATO-installed government. They offer stability, security, and national pride in exchange for obedience and service to the Way of Doom. What's more, they boast weaponry and technology that puts all but the most advanced Western technological firms to shame. As neighboring governments try and fail to undermine this radical movement, more and more people become drawn to its cause, seeing a future where they can not only stand on equal footing with the super-heroes of the West, but make them kneel.

What was dismissed as a fleeting bad dream has returned as a new nightmare. The Legion of Doom marches again.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
For starters, I wanted to have a sort of 'universal villain' that absolutely everyone can run up against. I figure we have more than enough shadowy organizations carefully working on secret machinations behind the scenes, so it would be a nice breath of fresh air to have one that's so brazenly out in the open about what they are and what they want to do. It'll hopefully give the heroes some fun material to work with as well, since most of the people joining the Legion have legitimate grievances against the Western-centric super-community, and hopefully this can lead to some stories with interesting real-world parallels without just beating people over the head with heavy-handed social commentary.

I've also just been on a nostalgia kick for the old Command and Conquer games lately, so this is at least partly to live out my dreams of leading the Brotherhood of Nod.

N O T E S:


The Legion of Doom is operated by a triumvirate of Ministers, who maintain a delicate balance of power between the three of them:



Lucia Von Bardas: The newly elected Prime Minister of Latveria, Lucia proudly displays the scars and cybernetic augmentations she acquired during the bloody civil war that ousted the previous government. Wildly popular among the Latverian people, she is the public face of the Legion, frequently seen making speeches and public appearances to portray the Way of Doom as the path to liberating the downtrodden from the yoke of their old imperialist oppressors. Behind the scenes, Lucia also operates the Legion's vast media network, altering and censoring data and spreading indoctrinating material in the name of "combating misinformation."



Kristoff Vernard: Latveria's Minister of Science and Culture, Kristoff sees it as his duty to carry on the brilliant work of Viktor van Domashev. His inventions have catapulted Latveria to the forefront of the technological world, while his printed works expounding on the Way of Doom have convinced countless disenfranchised and disaffected people to join the cause. Many are quick to condemn Vernard's many gruesome experiments on human subjects, but he is always quick to quote his hero, stating "only Doom dares to dream, all others serve."



Bram Velsing: Also known as the "Dread Knight," Velsing is the supreme commander of the Legion's armed forces. Equal parts brash, cunning, and fanatical, the Dread Knight is a hardline believer in the Way of Doom, and especially in its ethos of 'peace through power.'



The People's Liberation Legion: An ever-growing collection of neo-Doomist militias and paramilitary groups, the PLL is a largely decentralized confederation with loose ties to the Legion proper. While LoD agents often fund, arm, and train PLL cells, each cell operates independently, fomenting revolutions, assassinations, sabotage, cyber-warfare, and other destabilizing actions in any nation the Legion of Doom sees either as a threat or as a potential asset. Currently, there are known PLL cells active in Russia, Sokovia, Bialya, Symkaria, Argentina, Japan, and the United Kingdom, and there are unconfirmed cells active in a dozen other countries, including the United States. While most if not all PLL members are volunteers who are devout believers in the Way of Doom, the Legion proper tends to view them as expendable.



DoomBots: the backbone of the Legion of Doom's armies, DoomBots refer to a vast array of robotic and AI operatives designed to carry out the Legion's will. The 'standard' DoomBot is equipped with nano-spring artificial muscles to grant it immense strength, a variety of laser and particle-based weapons, a layered magnetic and plasma shield system rendering it invulnerable to conventional weapons, and electronic warfare packages that allow it to penetrate the most robust defenses. Deployed correctly, a platoon of DoomBots can defeat a conventional army in a matter of days, and severely wound or even kill all but the most powerful of metahumans.

S A M P L E P O S T:
"My brothers and sisters," Lucia von Bardas began as she approached the podium, "After the long, bitter fighting that has seen so many suffer needlessly, we have at long last toppled the rotten, clapped-out regime that had been afflicted upon us for so long!"

A thunderous din of triumphant cheers rose from the throng of loyal followers before her. Next to her on the dais, a haggard, beaten man was forced on his knees, trembling and crying, a pair of green-armored DoomBots flanking him on either side.

"Vladimir Vassily Gonereo Tristian Mangegi Fortunov," she addressed her prisoner, drawing out his long name in almost mocking tones. "Former Prime Minister of an illegitimate government. For nearly thirty years, you danced on strings pulled by NATO, propagating their lies and their deceit. Time and time again, Latveria has been given empty promises of autonomy, of 'greater standing in the international community,' of free and fair trade, only for more restrictions and sanctions to be placed upon us! Time and time again, you signed away land that rightfully belonged to the Latverian people, for the benefit of NATO and EU pet projects that have only done us harm! And each time you tell us to swallow their tripe, each time you tell us to settle for less, you line your own pockets with their dirty money!"

The tens of thousands in attendance roared with boos and cries of anger.

"The people of Latveria have said no more!" Lucia bellowed. "We have seen the way forward, and it is not dancing to the tune of the Western pigs. The way forward is that promised to us by one of our own, the genius who brought us onto the world stage, who made the White House and the Kremlin tremble! This is the way of destiny! The way of fate! The Way of Doom!"

Lucia paused to bask in the cacophonous applause, before turning back to the beaten man.

"And your doom, comrade Fortunov," she said, drawing a pistol from the inside of her jacket, "is sealed."

The gunshot rang out through the air, followed by another deafening roar of triumph from the crowd as Fortunov's body slumped forward, before falling off the dais and into the crowd, who proceeded to stomp and tear at the corpse until there was nothing recognizable left.

"The Way of Doom has saved the people of Latveria, my brothers and sisters," Von Bargas beckoned, "but our work is far from over! There are many yet who still cry out under the lash of the corrupt and the incompetent. Our brothers and sisters in Symkaria, in Sokovia, in Pokolistan, we hear your call! Our friends and comrades in South America, in East Asia, we share your struggle! Even our perceived enemies in Russia, in China, in America....they, too, will see the way to that shining future! In time, all will know the power and glory of Doom!"

The cheers had grown so loud, the voices of the Latverian people shook the dais.

"Doom," she called out the now familiar chant, "does not beg!"

"DOOM! the voices chanted back in unison, "DOES! NOT! BEG!"

"Doom denies death!"

"DOOM! DENIES! DEATH!"

"DOOM IS SUPREME!"

"DOOM! IS! SUPREME!"

P O S T C A T A L O G:
Coming Soon

In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
<Snipped quote by AndyC>

I don't know if you're aiming to subvert expectations, or if you're the only honest one here.


You'll find out tomorrow ;)
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Oh yeah? Watch this:

I'm not going to get a post up tomorrow.
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
People are dying while raven and starfire are getting lost in each others eyes, someone call some real help please


Hey now, they can multi-task!
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


"Have not the fear, human laborers!" shouted Koriand'r over the din of twisting metal and rushing water. "In your time of needing, salvation has made the arrival!"

Swooping down into the well of muck, Starfire took hold of a steel I-beam, one weighing over half a ton, and with a strained grunt lifted it off of the legs of a pinned worker who had been submerged almost over his head before being freed.

"This has to be the worst job we've ever done," Rachel muttered as she held out her hands, emitting tendrils of shadow that snatched picked more terrified workers out from the swirling cesspools where they had been drowning, snagged by loose cables and falling debris. A wave of sludge crashed against the side of the pool, splashing across her deep blue cloak and black tights. "The worst by far."

The Jump City Sewage Treatment Plant was falling apart in a spectacular fashion, with dozens of workers trapped in danger of particularly revolting deaths. Exits had been blocked by toppled equipment, safety gear suffered freak accident failures, and loose tools and pieces of industrial scrap quickly became potentially lethal shrapnel. Rachel and Kori had caught news of the incident over the police scanner, and were on the scene to try and keep the emergency from becoming a catastrophe.

Around them, old rusted metal groaned from pipes that had inexplicably clogged all at once. Then, with a series of pops and pings, screws and rivets burst loose from the immense water pressure, whizzing and ricocheting through the plant like bullets.

"Everyone down!" Raven yelled as she stretched out her ethereal essence-- what she had deemed her 'Soul Self'-- to snatch the speeding bits of metal out of the air, or throw up black shields to protect workers as they hit the deck. She had learned that her...unusual...circumstances of birth allowed her to do things that other people couldn't, projecting her soul into the physical world to do any number of things. Telekinesis was just the shallow end of her abilities, but it was one she had to use most often when doing 'cape and tights stuff.'

As Raven reached out with her spiritual powers to contain as much of the disaster as she could, Kori glanced over at her pale-skinned partner from the far side of the plant and could not help but feel a swell of admiration. In her daily life, Rachel Roth was dreary, dour, and put up a wall of cold contempt for people around her as a defense for her shyness and fear. When she adopted the persona of Raven, however, she was powerful beyond her own imagination, and had the courage and the confidence to use that power to become an incredible force for good. Others looked at Rachel and saw only the darkness of her regalia, the shadows she projected. Kori, however, saw past that darkness to the shining light within.

Kori felt herself distracted for a moment, musing if her friend could ever be aware of how beautiful she truly was. Then a pressurized tank ruptured behind the orange-haired alien girl and doused her with a few thousand gallons of raw sewage.

"Help!" cried a panicked foreman, trapped high up on a walkway that was beginning to buckle and collapse around him. "For the love of God, help me!"

"There is no need to make the panic," Starfire consoled the screaming man as she rose from the muck and scooped him up into her arms. "You shall be of the safeness and sounding momentarily!"

Kori plucked the frightened man from the falling structure, gingerly placing him on the ground before taking to the air again, her hands glowing with clouds of neon green plasma. Slinging the bolts of emerald fire into the mounds of twisted steel and crumbled concrete, she blasted clear a path for the workers to begin to escape, then flew back into the maelstrom of debris and sludge to save the others trapped inside.

"The structural integrity of this place is beyond the point of failure!" Starfire called out to her partner. "We must get the rest to--"

"Look out!" Raven interrupted her, engulfing an enormous gantry in shadow and catching the massive structure before it would have slammed into Starfire from behind. All around them, walls and supports began to crumble, and more sewage flooded the entire plant.

Throwing out her hands, Raven spilled forth more shadows, her Soul Self seeping into as much of the surrounding area as she could to hold it all together. While her mystic abilities cost Rachel very little in terms of physical exertion, the mental strain of projecting herself this far over so much was tough to bear.

"Can't...hold it for long!" Raven said through gritted teeth. "Get....everyone....out!"

As Raven struggled to keep the crumbling plant together, she saw her friend flitting through the disaster, bobbing and weaving between collapsing structures, swooping and diving with otherworldly grace, picking up the endangered workers one by one and two by and placing them on the path to safety. At first glance, it would be all too easy to dismiss Kori as an empty-headed cuckoo, a bubbly ditz who ate weird things, didn't understand personal space, and threw herself at every attractive person who paid her the slightest attention. Rachel knew, though, that most of the time, she was simply out of her element. When she was Starfire, the alien warrior princess and champion of the people, she was a sight to behold. Starfire moved through battles and calamity with a deftness that made it all seem trivial, making as full use of her body and her powers the way a master musician would their favorite instrument.

It was impossible to watch her in action and not be entranced.

Which, unfortunately, had the effect of distracting Rachel long enough to miss a final rupturing pipe, that splashed her directly in the face with a jet of sewer water.

"Acckk---blegghhh! Pfffbbbtt!" Raven sputtered and spat, trying to shake herself off as she was now drenched head to toe in substances she'd rather not think about. Her Soul Self began to falter, and she could feel the thousands of tons of metal and concrete begin to twist and shatter despite her efforts. Any much longer, and her powers would fail entirely, leaving her to be buried or drowned--probably whichever was worse....

Somewhere in the back of her head, Rachel was begging for another shift at the Big Belly Burger, answering stupid questions from mouth-breathing customers. On the other hand, being doused with offal and refuse was still only slightly less unpleasant than talking with Kitten van Cleer....

"Friend Raven!" Starfire called out as she flew towards her. "The civilians have arrived at the safety! We must now evacuate ourselves!"

"....right..." she said with a sigh of exhausted relief, retracting her Soul Self and letting the section of the plant finally implode on itself. Starfire took one arm around Raven's waist and took them both into the air, keeping the other hand free to blast away any last bits of rubble that impeded their way.

As they rose hundreds of feet into the air over the chaos and wreckage, Kori and Rachel looked over the scene with a mixture of triumph, relief, and guilt. They had managed to keep everyone alive, but half of the sewage treatment plant was in ruins, which was going to be a major hardship for the people of Jump City.

"Well....that..." Rachel panted, "....was awful."

"We have saved many lives tonight, friend Rachel," Kori said, comforting the pale girl as globs of sludge dripped off of them. "This is a night we should remember with the pride! Next, we must report our actions to the Chief Gomez, and provide helping to the investigations into how this was made to happen."

"Maybe later," Rachel brushed her off, wringing out a sickening brown-gray liquid from her cloak. "Before we do any of that, I think I'm going to take a shower and lie down for a while."

"I am in need of the washing as well," Kori admitted. "We should--"

"For the last time," Rachel interrupted as they flew away into the night sky, "The shower is for one person at a time..."



"You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"Oh, relax, I was just rehearsing. All they'll find is a freak coincidence. A grease-ball clogging up a pump here, some faults in the foundation there. The place was begging to fall apart anyway. All it needed was just a little bit of bad luck. Besides, the plan is to keep them exhausted, right?"

"Yeah, but I thought we were supposed to do it in little ways, right? That was way too big!"

"Quite correct. If the alien and the witch girl are not to detect our presence, we must be more subtle in our attempts to weaken them."

"Fine, no more pyrotechnics. Not until Friday, anyway."

"Right. On Friday, that's when we put on the real show!"

"Yes. Until then, keep them on their toes, keep them from recuperating. But don't let them catch on....not until it's too late for them to stop it...."
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Imagine being the guy trying to get in as any of the FF


Funny thing was, I was this close to applying as the FF. But Legion of Doom just barely edged it out.

Speaking of, some of y'all with heroes who have fleshed-out rogues' galleries might want to expect a PM soon (or if there's a Discord chat, it might be easier to organize that way), as the Legion is likely going to start procuring some 'unique force multipliers' as they expand.
In One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
This one might be a bit of a stretch, but hear me out. First, a little mood music.....

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