BurningCold

Pokétopian Dreams: Uncharted Waters

Will You Sign My Slowking?

_{Location: Pier Interaction(s): @Crimson Flame,@Yankee}

---

Auggie stared at the apparently famous actor with an airy smile on his face. He didn’t really watch a lot of live action stuff. When André called out his choice of apparel, he said, “Uh… Yeah! Thanks. My mom gave them to me as a birthday present last year. She sewed them herse-” But the man had already shifted his attention to the others. Looking down at the mismatched pink and blue sneakers he wore, he wondered vaguely if he had just been made fun of. Probably, he thought, as his shoulders rose and fell in a slow shrug. Wouldn’t be the first time, wouldn’t be the last. So it goes, eh?

He watched passively for a few moments as what was initially a group interaction began to break up into smaller conversations, slowly finishing the rest of his poffin. André seemed to be, what was it called, schmoozing? Yeah, schmoozing towards Sophfey and one of the champions, who was apparently called Syl. Meanwhile the only guy yet to introduce himself was talking about some kind of Pokémon tactic or other with the guy with cool glasses. He said his name was Bat, which Auggie found to be sort of funny. It reminded him of zubats, but zubats were blind and wouldn’t ever need to wear glasses. He supposed they were still allowed to though.

There was also someone in a blue coat that Auggie recognized from a reaction gif that was made of him riding a gyarados towards some island. He lacked any and all context beyond that point but yeah, still pretty cool. Maybe he was some sort of water Pokémon trainer?

And there was that moody girl, still standing off to the side. Unconsciously, he found himself smiling softly at her with sympathy in his eyes before turning his focus elsewhere.

Softly, the breeze tousled his hair about and he briefly closed his eyes, taking in the dual sensations of warm sun and cool wind. He needed to these moments when he found them.

Back to reality, he surveyed the pier once more with a dreamier tinge to his eyes.

All righty. You get one chance at making a good impression on Sophfey. Should be easy. He’d been watching her channel since before it blew up. Just be normal. Not too normal though! She liked normal types but they weren’t exactly her favorite either. And then he was walking over, a vaguely clueless expression on his face as his hand curled around a random pokéball in his pocket. Reaching her, he withdrew a premier ball and sighed with relief. Anything but the luxury ball would have been fine.

“Uh, hey,” He said in an even tone. He wasn’t nervous to talk to her. He just didn’t want to mess it up. “I’ve been a big fan of SuperSophfey for the longest time now. I, ah, it’s cool to meet the person behind the channel. I actually have a RotomTube channel too. AuggieInvestigates, same as my blog.” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his silvery hair. “Uh, check this out.” He clicked the release on the premier ball, his slowking materializing before them. “I saw you noticing my rotom earlier. Well, this guy isn’t a rare color but he can do something else, isn’t that right, my good sir?” Auggie gently reached up to pat the six foot tall slowking on the shoulder.

“Ein… stein?”

"Once more, with confidence my man! You're not just smart for a Pokémon, you're smart, period! Show SuperSophfey what you've got!"

The calm, vacant look in Einstein's eyes was quickly replaced with deep focus as it puffed its chest out with pride. It wasn't just some slowking! It was...

"EINSTEIN!"

"YES!" Flashing jazz hands at Sophie, Auggie exclaimed, “See! He says his name!” He cleared his throat again. “Maybe we can get to know each other’s Pokémon more on this trip?” At Auggie's side, Einstein beamed with pride.

Nailed it.

Blood of the Crown

Kalowick of Green Paths

^{Interaction(s): Everyone Location: Olenta's Throne Room}

---

Purple and white wildflowers grew along the length of Kalowick’s staff, which he clutched in hand while listening carefully to the Lord Steward’s speech. For weeks now, the staff, which typically cycled through a wide variety of colors and species of wildflower, had continually bloomed the same growths; purple petaled flowers speckled with white. The omen was clear enough, and when summoned to the capital for this grand proclamation, Kalowick already had a feeling he knew what was to be announced.

“Knights and courtiers alike, hear me well: The god of light has not forsaken us — somewhere, the heir of the Royal Rune walks among us, unknowing or unseen. We will seek them out, for our kingdom will stand or fall upon the blood in their veins.”

At these grand words, Kalowick did not loudly announce his jubilation, or cry out in thanks to the gods. Instead, he merely bowed his head in respect, and allowed a self-satisfied smile to work its way onto his features. This was very, very good news. Lord Steward Geraint seemed to handle his unenvious task well, but Alveria had been too long without a proper ruler. The return of the Bloodline was something that Kalowick never lost faith in. To him, it was mere eventuality, and it seems nature had rewarded his faith with an augur of things to come. Purple for royalty, and white for the new beginning this lost heir would bring.

When Geraint announced that Kalowick was one of those chosen to carry out the venture of seeking out the heir, he felt a little swell of pride in his breast. Briefly, he wondered what Varn would think, if he were here now.

That thought was quickly quashed.

One by one, the other knight commanders, true veterans of their order, gave their words of encouragement and warning. He eyed them each in turn, as well as the companions that would be joining him on this task. A wry grin snaked onto his face when his singular gaze fell upon Vincent. He seemed particularly excited to return to his hometown. Perhaps it was simple affection for the hearty cooking and fresh air. Then again… the way he had to hold himself together, and that joyous grin- the way it came and went from his face: perhaps there was more to uncover there.

It was sweet, he thought. In a motion to rescue Vincent from the spotlight and give him a chance to recover his excitable emotions, Kalowick spoke up. “I’ve been to the area several times myself over the years. It will be good to journey into the mountains once more,” His tone was airy, like wind rustling through the branches of the trees, with just a hint of depth hidden beneath the forest’s brush. “Especially in such esteemed company. As the hummingbird flies south for winter, so too shall we follow the trail of its wingbeats unerringly back into the north.”

He smiled placidly at his companions and the other knight commanders in turn before turning his solitary eye upon Geraint. “We will not fail. My life for the bloodline.”

Calling All Heroes and Villains!

Hungry For "Justice"

Location: The Alleys of Nova City

---

So much blood. The ground of the alleyway was slick with it, spreading out from the limp figure that used to be Tim’s friend. This- it wasn’t supposed to be this way! God, someone, please help him. He doubled over and retched, dry, heaving convulsions wracking his body. He remembered that- that monster. It grabbed Henry. Then, God, it tore his throat out.

Hurried footfalls echoed around the narrow alley as Tim sprinted, panicked sobs forcing their way out of his ragged throat. Henry was dead. He couldn’t get the images out of his head. The human body has over a gallon of blood inside of it. It’s supposed to stay inside. God.

it moved with inhuman speed grabbing henry biting henry eating henry

That monster came out of nowhere. And what! What did it want with them?! This wasn’t about the robbery, was it? It was an accident. It was a fucking accident! They never- they never meant to kill anybody. “Just a simple stickup.” That’s what Henry had said. And yet, every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the cashier’s twitching body, the gushing wound in their neck fountaining crimson liquid. Now he saw Henry too.

gorged on henry finished looking up at me smiling always smiling blood dripping between teeth

When the monster was done with Henry it just… smiled at Tim and waved. Then, in a flash of something dark, like smoke, it disappeared. Cold, cold air emanated from the place the creature had been, and before long Tim was running in the opposite direction. He told himself that if there was even a single chance that Henry was still alive, he would have tried to help him. But there wasn’t a chance. Too many pieces of him were missing. In a flurry, he rounded a corner in the alley before being sent flying to the ground. He’d bumped into something. Heart nearly pounding out of his chest, he looked up into the eyes of the monster. They glowed soft red in the dimness.

“Hey.” The grin widened a fraction as it took a step closer.

“Wha- bu- no! No no no! How?!” Tim cowered as it advanced on him, paralyzed into place in a heap of himself on the ground.

“MuGshOts buddy! Y’all are repeat offenders so, you know. Cross reference the security camera footage they showed on the news and yeah- thE mAth maThS.” It had reached Tim by this point, grabbing his shirt by the collar and lifting him up off the ground. Wide, crimson eyes peered into his own. They were creased at the corners with amusement. “Ever hear of trigger discipline bUddY bOy? She was only sixteen you know.” The monster laughed. “I LOVE guns. Used to carry one aLL the TiMe when I worked for Koth. But she was only sixteen. Why would you shoot? Nervous, right?” Tim had begun to sob. “Well don’t WoRrY about a thing pal! You don’t gotta be scared anymore. I’m not the vengeful type.” The monstrous smile widened to proportions that Tim didn’t think should be possible. “Super heroes ain’t like that. So this’ll be over quickly.”

ate henry gonna eat me ate henry gonna eat me ate henry gonn-

---

Chuck’s jaws clamped down shut around the scumbag shooter’s skull, teeth shredding through skin and meat and crunching through bone. Alongside iron and a hint of salt, the taste of something bitter and terrified fell upon his tongue. The soul. Enough of the body was left behind for police to identify. But the soul? Chuck ate every bite.

He looked down at the corpses in deep self-satisfaction. “AnOthER pair of criminals off the street!" Can’t forget the most important part!” He rummaged into his pockets, pulling out a sharpie and pink sticky note. He bounded off after leaving the very important message behind.

<sub>GLUTTON WAS HERE. YOU ARE WELCOME PEOPLE OF NOVA CITY :)

P.S. THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS TO THEIR VICTIM</sub>

---

It was some time later that news of the Nova City Bank robbery spread like wildfire. Chuck was extremely excited at the prospect of being able to team up with all the other heroes that would undoubtedly lend their aid to his most recent catastrophe. Maybe this would even get Blaze out of retirement. God damn that guy was so cool.

And so, with thoughts of heroism and team-ups flooding his mind, Chuck focused his mind on the teleport spell that would get him to the exterior of the bank. Reciting the demonic runes in his mind as waves of cold air pulsed off of his body, he disappeared in a flash of black soul-stuff, reappearing before Nova City Bank to a chorus of terrified shrieks rejoiceful applause.

“HeLLo! Don’t WorRy everybody! Glutton fights for YOU! For JUSTICE!”

He looked around dimly. Where was everybody else?

“...I’m gonna wait for the rest of my team though!”

Primality

M A R K O V A L D I

^{Location: Dorm Building Exterior, Merryweather Institute}

---

Smoke trailed from the end of Marko’s cigarette and up into the open air. He leaned numbly against the exterior of the dorms, some ways away from the door. He knew these were bad for him. He always knew that. Yet, each inhale of that cheap poison into his lungs seemed to warm a part of him that would otherwise remain frigid. He sighed and watched listlessly as the smoke poured from his mouth, curling up and away. He really should quit at some point. Gram and gramps would be happy. A cold breeze blew past that made Marko shrug his shoulders forward, pulling the heavy coat he wore further around his body.

It's barely any warmer here than back home...

His right arm was unbothered by that fact.

He looked down at the foreign clothing he wore then. The uniform was… fine. More of a palette swap to the kind of things he wore on a daily basis anyways. Not as warm as his normal attire either though. All being said, he wasn’t even going to try and wear the blazer. Getting dressed in the morning was enough of a pain. Hopefully the faculty would be understanding.

A bitter smile worked its way onto Marko’s face as he took another drag. Asking people to be understanding of him was starting to become a running theme. Realistically, one that would continue. Even so. For now just get through the opening ceremony, was all Marko could muster in the self-motivation department. He must have told himself "don't squander this opportunity" about a thousand times while staring at himself in the bathroom mirror earlier this morning, for all the good it did. Now? Here? The reality was hitting him harder than he would have preferred. No more do-overs. He didn't think he had it in himself to make it through this mess in one piece.

Still. Have to try.

As other students began to mill out of the dorm building's various entrances, Marko hung back against the wall, a bit overwhelmed. Should he say hi to someone? And then what? For now, he resolved to hang back and finish his cigarette. Maybe someone would make it easy for him and come say hello. Or maybe they'd all make it even easier than that and ignore him entirely. It's not that he was some sort of dedicated loner, but how was he meant to act? None of his "friends" in the past had been particularly good people. His head was starting to buzz, and not in the good kind of way. He felt the pressure behind his eyes. He took another drag and began to count to count to twenty in his head as he exhaled. Just stay calm, He thought. Unless you want your scars to come in a matching set, calm the fuck down. So he did.

Marko was calm.

Calling All Heroes and Villains!

Taking bites outta crime

_{"My friends call me Chuck!"}

Name:
Chuck Whippoorwill

Alias:
Glutton

Alignment:
Uh, hero. Yeah, definitely a hero. Right?

Powers/Abilities:
The Hunger: Chuck possesses meaningfully enhanced speed and strength over that of the average human, but his biggest asset is his enlarged maw of sharpened teeth. So far, there’s nothing they can’t bite through with a little bit of effort. Flesh, steel, even souls themselves.

Resilience and Regeneration: Chuck has a sturdy, pain-tolerant body that goes a bit beyond the typical enhanced resistance that so many metahumans seem to have. Most significant is his healing factor, which is augmented by the spilling of blood or consumption of souls.

Demonic Casting: Chuck isn’t very good at this, but when he absorbed the powers of a demon, he also absorbed its accumulated knowledge. He can sense mystical energies, and with enough time and focus, occasionally pull off magical rituals. The only “spell” he can reliably perform is teleportation. Distance to be traveled and the amount of passengers can modify the spell from a rapid blip several feet forward to a ten or more minute long process to invoke a strong enough portal to carry himself and others many miles away. Honestly the whole thing is a crapshoot. Especially if he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going.

Weaknesses:
I Can Take It!: Chuck is strong and a good fighter. Chuck is also an idiot. He is reckless and prone to pushing his limits further than he should. In winning a battle he often risks setting himself up for future failure, with no lessons learned. Why play it safe when his regeneration is “theoretically” limitless?

Rumbling Stomach: Chuck needs to eat. A lot. His healing factor is directly proportional to how well fed he is, whether that be blood, souls, or cheese burgers. If in a position to starve, he might rather try to eat himself or his allies as the latent instincts of the demon take control.

Personality:
Chuck’s mind is splintered. Impulsive and excitable, his transformation gave him clarity in only a single aspect of his life: it is better to define yourself in opposition to villains than in alliance with them. This is the only creed Chuck knows how to follow. All understanding of proportionality that he might have is skewed by an alien sense of right and wrong, a parting gift from the demonic intelligence that he subsumed into his own being. Gangsters and wannabe muggers might have their souls sucked and their flesh devoured, while something as benign as jaywalking is met with bullying and mental torture until the “criminal” is in hysterics.

And Chuck sees nothing wrong with this. He’s just having fun, after all. And he’s a hero! Heroes always do the right thing, ergo so does Chuck. It’s really very simple.

Witty sarcasm aside, there is more than mania and madness to the man behind the demon. He craves friendship and connection, even if he’s not very good at getting those things, and he’s fiercely protective of children, even if he’s terrifying to most of them. The desire to be good… to be better than he was in a previous life, is very real.

Background:

All Those Hot Dog Eating Contests Paid Off!

To this day Chuck doesn’t know the details of what demon god he ate or whether that’s going to be a problem for him in the future. His life wasn’t too pleasant leading up to that point, all things considered.

Well, you know how it goes by now. Junkie parents. Bouncing around the foster system. Runaway teen joins a gang. Pipeline to a life of crime. Same sob story told a thousand different times by a thousand different saps. Skip forward and Chuck is an enforcer for a big time crime boss in Ironclad. Nasty guy by the name of Sylvester Koth, deals in drugs and sometimes people too. Well, Mr. Koth ends up not too happy with Chuck on account of his ass getting beat by some masked vigilante and the subsequent seizure of the stash Chuck was guarding by the police. Honestly getting knocked around by wannabe heroes is part of the job as far as Chuck was concerned. An occupational hazard, if you will.

So when Mr. Koth sold him to some weird cult that wanted to use him as the vessel for a demonic god, it seemed like an overreaction. While completely in character for a human trafficker to not value his own workforce, it still hurt his feelings.

Right. Well, there’s not a simple way to explain how this next part went down. A lot of weird chanting and dark oaths and mystical nonsense happened as a tear in reality formed over Chuck’s restrained form. Something… dark seeped out of the portal and into Chuck. His body was changing, his mind was splintering, and this piece of crap was trying to take away everything that he was. Sure, he wasn’t much. A screw-up. A criminal. A loser with a pit in his chest where most people had a heart.

But did it always have to be that way? Was this the story he had written for himself? Five panels of pain and panic on page one of a comic book before the real villain is introduced with a full page splash art?

No.

So as the demon ate him piece by piece, Chuck opened his metaphysical jaws even wider and… ate it instead. One bite. Chew. Swallow.

He doesn’t remember much of that night. Just flashes of… euphoria. And maniacal rage. Flickering images of terrified faces, the taste of copper on his tongue, the sounds of bones crunching. Collapsing in a pool of blood that wasn’t his own. When he awoke… he was changed. And all the cultists were dead.

And that’s the story of how Chuck gained the powers of a demon god by simply being hungrier than it. His new lease on life led him to destroy the crime ring that he once worked for, and personally deliver the severed head of Sylvester Koth to the Ironclad Police Department in a ribbon wrapped box.

Since then, the name Glutton has been cause for concern among villains and heroes alike. For the former, they are his favorite meal, after all. As for the latter group, it’s true to say that working with Glutton is usually safer than ignoring him or working against him. But that means teaming up, and, well, he’s kind of annoying.

Yet here he is! Ready to save the world and see his name in lights! Justice is here... and its hungry. Let's fucking go.

Appearance:
Chuck is six solid feet of muscle, teeth, and hunger. His oversized red eyes give away from the drop that something extranormal is going on with him, if the nearly nonexistent nose, permanently grinning toothy maw, and mottled black and brown skin don't make it obvious first.

He wears a tattered, slightly patchwork yellow coat lined with fur that might have been luxurious once. The only other item of note is the blue scarf around his neck.

Affiliations:
Literally anyone that would ask. He’s not desperate, per se. But, you know. Maybe a little desperate.

Motivations:
Ambition, maybe? He wants to be more than a villain’s goon. Then again… hunger and entertainment are also strong contenders for why he does what he does. Plus being a superhero, which he definitely is, is fun!

Relationships:
Fiancé: He had a fiancé a million years ago, a nice lady named Tracey. The first thing he did after escaping the cult was break things off with her. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Fae Valentine: One of the few people that seems to do more than put up with Chuck, and actually like when he's around. Something about her struggles feels familiar within himself. That being said, the pair have become fast friends since meeting. He even likes Bloodlust! Why wouldn't he? He's stronger than her, half of her powers don't even work on him, and she always seems overjoyed to see him! The way she calls him a mindless, subhuman garbage disposal is classic best friend banter. Oh, and she's a bad guy too. That means he can punch her whenever she's around. You know, until she starts acting normal again. Chuck isn't entirely sold on Fae and Bloodlust not just being the exact same person but he'll play along for now. Either way they both clearly need a friend.

Draven: Draven honestly confuses Chuck. Guy heroically defeats a supervillain, only destroys an entire district, and suddenly he quits the super hero gig? Blaze, as Chuck almost exclusively refers to him as, was one of the coolest heroes out there. Accidental pun! Nice. He's convinced all Draven needs to abandon his "I'm a villain but mostly just depressed" routine is a team-up with the only other super hero out there (other than Chuck of course) capable of matching his energy. That's right. Sir Arcticus. Together, the three of them could be the greatest crime fighting team in history. So far, Draven tries to incinerate him every time he comes around, but he thinks he's making progress.

Base of Operations:
A cheap motel room in small town America ran by a guy named Barry that’s very good at not asking questions.

Signature Gear:
Mystical spell books that he swears he’ll get around to studying one day, a stash of plasma weaponry he confiscated off of a very dead supervillain formerly known as Element Four, and his pair of cestus, which don’t do much for his already powerful punches but definitely look cool.

Public Perception:
Glutton is frighteningly effective when he’s able to sink his teeth into something, and has no qualms going after those corrupt business types that get accused of obvious crimes but never wind up officially convicted. He can be something of a folk hero among those that don’t deride his particular brand of justice, but is seen by most as a public nuisance. Perhaps the average citizen would praise him more if he wasn’t so likely to drag you out of your car and beat the shit out of you for driving with a busted taillight. That sort of thing has only happened once or twice but hey word gets around.

Combat Style:
Fast, aggressive and chaotic, Glutton’s combat style is all about dealing out as much punishment as possible while soaking up damage done to him in kind. In theory, he has his magic for situations that he can’t just punch his way out of, but in practice the most versatile tool in his kit is sorely underused.

Calling All Heroes and Villains!

Totally a heroic hero

_{"My friends call me Chuck!"}

Name:
Chuck Whippoorwill

Alias:
Glutton

Alignment:
Uh, hero. Yeah, definitely a hero. Right?

Powers/Abilities:
The Hunger: Chuck possesses meaningfully enhanced speed and strength over that of the average human, but his biggest asset is his enlarged maw of sharpened teeth. So far, there’s nothing they can’t bite through with a little bit of effort. Flesh, steel, even souls themselves.

Resilience and Regeneration: Chuck has a sturdy, pain-tolerant body that goes a bit beyond the typical enhanced resistance that so many metahumans seem to have. Most significant is his healing factor, which is augmented by the spilling of blood or consumption of souls.

Demonic Casting: Chuck isn’t very good at this, but when he absorbed the powers of a demon, he also absorbed its accumulated knowledge. He can sense mystical energies, and with enough time and focus, occasionally pull off magical rituals. The only “spell” he can reliably perform is teleportation. Distance to be traveled and the amount of passengers can modify the spell from a rapid blip several feet forward to a ten or more minute long process to invoke a strong enough portal to carry himself and others many miles away. Honestly the whole thing is a crapshoot. Especially if he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going.

Weaknesses:
I Can Take It!: Chuck is strong and a good fighter. Chuck is also an idiot. He is reckless and prone to pushing his limits further than he should. In winning a battle he often risks setting himself up for future failure, with no lessons learned. Why play it safe when his regeneration is “theoretically” limitless?

Rumbling Stomach: Chuck needs to eat. A lot. His healing factor is directly proportional to how well fed he is, whether that be blood, souls, or cheese burgers. If in a position to starve, he might rather try to eat himself or his allies as the latent instincts of the demon take control.

Personality:
Chuck’s mind is splintered. Impulsive and excitable, his transformation gave him clarity in only a single aspect of his life: it is better to define yourself in opposition to villains than in alliance with them. This is the only creed Chuck knows how to follow. All understanding of proportionality that he might have is skewed by an alien sense of right and wrong, a parting gift from the demonic intelligence that he subsumed into his own being. Gangsters and wannabe muggers might have their souls sucked and their flesh devoured, while something as benign as jaywalking is met with bullying and mental torture until the “criminal” is in hysterics.

And Chuck sees nothing wrong with this. He’s just having fun, after all. And he’s a hero! Heroes always do the right thing, ergo so does Chuck. It’s really very simple.

Witty sarcasm aside, there is more than mania and madness to the man behind the demon. He craves friendship and connection, even if he’s not very good at getting those things, and he’s fiercely protective of children, even if he’s terrifying to most of them. The desire to be good… to be better than he was in a previous life, is very real.

Background:

All Those Hot Dog Eating Contests Paid Off!

To this day Chuck doesn’t know the details of what demon god he ate or whether that’s going to be a problem for him in the future. His life wasn’t too pleasant leading up to that point, all things considered.

Well, you know how it goes by now. Junkie parents. Bouncing around the foster system. Runaway teen joins a gang. Pipeline to a life of crime. Same sob story told a thousand different times by a thousand different saps. Skip forward and Chuck is an enforcer for a big time crime boss in Ironclad. Nasty guy by the name of Sylvester Koth, deals in drugs and sometimes people too. Well, Mr. Koth ends up not too happy with Chuck on account of his ass getting beat by some masked vigilante and the subsequent seizure of the stash Chuck was guarding by the police. Honestly getting knocked around by wannabe heroes is part of the job as far as Chuck was concerned. An occupational hazard, if you will.

So when Mr. Koth sold him to some weird cult that wanted to use him as the vessel for a demonic god, it seemed like an overreaction. While completely in character for a human trafficker to not value his own workforce, it still hurt his feelings.

Right. Well, there’s not a simple way to explain how this next part went down. A lot of weird chanting and dark oaths and mystical nonsense happened as a tear in reality formed over Chuck’s restrained form. Something… dark seeped out of the portal and into Chuck. His body was changing, his mind was splintering, and this piece of crap was trying to take away everything that he was. Sure, he wasn’t much. A screw-up. A criminal. A loser with a pit in his chest where most people had a heart.

But did it always have to be that way? Was this the story he had written for himself? Five panels of pain and panic on page one of a comic book before the real villain is introduced with a full page splash art?

No.

So as the demon ate him piece by piece, Chuck opened his metaphysical jaws even wider and… ate it instead. One bite. Chew. Swallow.

He doesn’t remember much of that night. Just flashes of… euphoria. And maniacal rage. Flickering images of terrified faces, the taste of copper on his tongue, the sounds of bones crunching. Collapsing in a pool of blood that wasn’t his own. When he awoke… he was changed. And all the cultists were dead.

And that’s the story of how Chuck gained the powers of a demon god by simply being hungrier than it. His new lease on life led him to destroy the crime ring that he once worked for, and personally deliver the severed head of Sylvester Koth to the Ironclad Police Department in a ribbon wrapped box.

Since then, the name Glutton has been cause for concern among villains and heroes alike. For the former, they are his favorite meal, after all. As for the latter group, it’s true to say that working with Glutton is usually safer than ignoring him or working against him. But that means teaming up, and, well, he’s kind of annoying.

Yet here he is! Ready to save the world and see his name in lights! Justice is here... and its hungry. Let's fucking go.

Appearance:
Chuck is six solid feet of muscle, teeth, and hunger. His oversized red eyes give away from the drop that something extranormal is going on with him, if the nearly nonexistent nose, permanently grinning toothy maw, and mottled black and brown skin don't make it obvious first.

He wears a tattered, slightly patchwork yellow coat lined with fur that might have been luxurious once. The only other item of note is the blue scarf around his neck.

Affiliations:
Literally anyone that would ask. He’s not desperate, per se. But, you know. Maybe a little desperate.

Motivations:
Ambition, maybe? He wants to be more than a villain’s goon. Then again… hunger and entertainment are also strong contenders for why he does what he does. Plus being a superhero, which he definitely is, is fun!

Relationships:
He had a fiancé a million years ago, a nice lady named Tracey. The first thing he did after escaping the cult was break things off with her. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Base of Operations:
A cheap motel room in small town America ran by a guy named Barry that’s very good at not asking questions.

Signature Gear:
Mystical spell books that he swears he’ll get around to studying one day, a stash of plasma weaponry he confiscated off of a very dead supervillain formerly known as Element Four, and his pair of cestus, which don’t do much for his already powerful punches but definitely look cool.

Public Perception:
Glutton is frighteningly effective when he’s able to sink his teeth into something, and has no qualms going after those corrupt business types that get accused of obvious crimes but never wind up officially convicted. He can be something of a folk hero among those that don’t deride his particular brand of justice, but is seen by most as a public nuisance. Perhaps the average citizen would praise him more if he wasn’t so likely to drag you out of your car and beat the shit out of you for driving with a busted taillight. That sort of thing has only happened once or twice but hey word gets around.

Combat Style:
Fast, aggressive and chaotic, Glutton’s combat style is all about dealing out as much punishment as possible while soaking up damage done to him in kind. In theory, he has his magic for situations that he can’t just punch his way out of, but in practice the most versatile tool in his kit is sorely underused.

Here he is! Please let me know if there's anything I can tweak or improve upon. I love super hero comics/movies/shows etc. but this is the first super-power RP I've actually joined before, so maybe I'm not getting something quite right

Calling All Heroes and Villains!

I'm working on my character currently, more of an anti-hero that thinks they're heroic

Calling All Heroes and Villains! Join Our Custom Superhero Roleplay World!

I'm possibly interested as well :)

Pokétopian Dreams: Uncharted Waters

People Watching and Poffin Munching

^{Location: Pier Interaction(s): Everyone}

---

Today, Auggie reckoned, was going to be a swell one. Last night was a lengthy process overseeing the loading team as they secured his art exhibits within the ship, but it all went smoothly. Plus it was funny watching the trainers toil alongside their machokes as if the latter needed any help. Anything to feel like a team he supposed.

Arriving at the pier, he scanned the sights before him with sleepy eyes and an easy smile on his face. His pockets jangled with loose paraphernalia as he approached.

Clear, beautiful skies, a picturesque coastal vista, and was that THE SuperSophfey!? Cool. Auggie knew they were gonna get popular trainers for their little resort thing, but he didn’t think they’d get any actual celebrities. They asked him after all, right? Most of the people here were league champions that he vaguely recognized from battle highlights on RotomTube (mostly ones put together by SuperSophfey). That was hard work, no doubt, and they all seemed nice enough, but Auggie was just relieved to not be the only content creator on the ship. Especially with a superstar like Sophfey.

There were some others he didn’t recognize either, including a guy with cool glasses whose general demeanor reminded Auggie of an absol, and another guy with cool glasses whose general demeanor reminded him of the exact opposite of an absol, decked out in bright pinks as he was. Either way, Auggie didn’t judge books by their cover, or people by their clothes, as it were. He debunked that whole absols-cause-disasters thing already anyways.

And there was a young girl too, emphasis on young. Auggie hoped she was happy to be here, but the blank, slightly grouchy look on her face said otherwise. That was too bad.

His interest in watching the crowd waning as time dragged on, Auggie stretched languidly before fumbling a hand into his overalls pockets. Loose pokéballs, a roll of spirit tags held together by a rubber band, a Hearthome City gym badge, and other assorted trinkets were pushed aside as his hand fished for H.D.’s pokéball. Finally, he withdrew the quick ball (no one would ever believe how insanely lucky he got if he hadn’t been recording the event) and released his rotom into the air before him.

Beeewwooppbbzzrr?

“I’m stuck on this level of Mark of the Greninja. Can you beat it for me?” Auggie held up his cell phone.

Bzzrrweeepp!

With a satisfied trill, H.D. dove into the device and the screen lit up to the video game in question. Auggie dropped his phone into his overalls front pocket. “Thanks man. Just go back into your ball when you’re done. And there’s a surprise for you waiting in our cabin. A desk fan and a minifridge! I tried to negotiate a lawn mower but they said no, I’m sorry, I know its your favorite.” He pat the phone in his pocket gently before sighing with contentment. Life would never not be incredibly cool.

"The captain is late." The tired girl said. She sounded exactly how she looked. "I wonder how much longer it'll be before we can board."

Auggie bit his inner cheek before speaking up. “...More time to get to know everyone, yeah?” He looked around the group pleasantly, flashing a little wave and smile at Sophie when his gaze passed over her, before addressing everyone once more. “I’m, ah, Auggie. I do artwork. Mostly painting. And I do ghost stuff. It’s not usually ghosts though.” He spoke with an airy, languorous tone, before reaching into one of his overstuffed pockets and pulling out a slightly stale poffin. He peered at the others while nibbling on the treat.

Primality

I'm down for a discord if we all want one