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In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 7 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Got a post up with Morbius getting involved with the Brooklyn fire. I've left it open ended enough for others to join in.
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 7 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Crimson trickled down his pale white chin as his fangs sunk into the neck of the drug pusher. He'd taken a risk, these dealers often got high on their own supply, tainting their blood and creating a potentially dangerous cocktail for Morbius to consume. He'd had issues with hallucinogen laced blood before, but this was an emergency. He could feel the hunger becoming too much for him, he could feel himself getting too close to going on an uncontrollable feeding frenzy. This would have to do, the risk was too great.

It had been a few days since meeting Cavallero at the morgue and it felt like they were making no progress at all. Morbius had been stalking the alleyway at Livonia every night, on the lookout for whoever was dumping the bodies, but no one ever turned up, and it had seriously impacted his feeding schedule. Michael Morbius was a very impatient man, both in terms of when he got to feed, and also when he got results.

His suit helped him to blend in to the almost abject darkness. It clung to him like a second skin, sleek and seamless, a deep black that gleamed under the streetlights when he glided by them. Thin, violet lines traced along his torso and limbs in intricate, almost organic patterns, pulsing faintly with his unnatural psionic energy. From just above his elbows to his ribs were a pair of dark purple, bat-like wings. Not true wings, but a membranous cape stitched into the suit itself, jagged and torn at the edges. A little addition to his costume that helped with gliding, and with his persona.

He left the dealer in a slump on the ground, brushing back long black hair with his long, gloved, clawed hand as he rose to his full height. His glowing red eyes gleamed in the night as he made his way over to the edge of the building where he perched. Brooklyn's heartbeat pulsed below him. He could hear it. The layered rhythms of countless lives moving through the streets. Cars idling at red lights, voices rising in laughter or argument, the click of heels against pavement. It was all so loud. A symphony of the living, carrying on as if the night did not belong to creatures like him.

Then, something different. A scent on the wind, acrid and bitter, cutting through the familiar stench of the city. Smoke. Morbius’ head snapped toward the source, a column of black rose against the darkened sky, thick and suffocating, curling high above the rooftops. Fire. Somewhere relatively nearby. His thoughts were cut short when his enhanced hearing picked up on the distant, panicked cries echoing out from the building.

His claws tightened against the buildings edge as instinct warred with reason within him. This was not his concern, it was a job for the fire department. He had more important matters to attend to; the bodies in the morgue, the unknown killer, and of course the ever-present hunger gnawing at his insides, demanding him to feed even after his recent meal. And yet?

A scream broke his concentration again. A woman's voice crying out for help. For a moment his mind shot back to the fateful night of his first feeding. His mind shot back to memories of Martine, his former fiancee.

Morbius moved. In one fluid motion he leapt from the rooftop, his wings snapping open to catch the air as he flew through the nightsky. The city blurred beneath him as he glided toward the inferno, the violet tracings on his suit flickering with each shift of his body and leaving a fading trail of purple psionic energy as he cut through the air like a knife.

Closer now. He could feel the heat against his skin, hear the violent groan of the building as it struggled against the flames. The fire was already spreading, crawling hungrily across the structure, consuming it from the inside out. The onlookers below stood frozen, helpless, useless. Some filmed. Others shouted in horror. But none of them acted. Morbius did not hesitate.

His claws found purchase on the blackened brick as he scaled the burning building with unnatural ease. Embers floated past him like fireflies, smoke coiling around his limbs, but he did not stop. A window shattered just ahead, a woman leaned out, coughing, her pained face illuminated by the flickering light behind her.

His glowing red eyes met hers.

She recoiled.

Of course she did.

He was used to that.

The fire behind her surged, swallowing the ceiling in a wave of fire. If she waited a moment longer, there wouldn't be a choice. Morbius didn't wait for her to decide. He lunged forward, crashing through the half-shattered window, talons raking against the frame as he hauled himself inside. The heat wrapped around him like a vice, but he pushed through it. he landed in a crouch in front of her. The woman stumbled back, eyes darting wildly between him and the collapsing room. He could hear her pulse, it was like a hammer pounding her heart against her ribs.

He straightened to his full height, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the heat. His glowing red eyes locked onto her. "Your fire escape is…inconveniently melted." he remarked, his voice smooth yet tinged with wryness. "I suggest we find another exit."

The woman coughed violently, her legs unsteady. "W-what the hell are you?" she rasped, barely able to get the words out.

Morbius sighed. "Do we really have time for existential questions? I could give you the long answer, but…" He gestured toward the flames creeping across the ceiling. "Something tells me you have more immediate concerns."

She flinched as another wooden beam collapsed behind her, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Morbius took a step forward, his clawed hand outstretched. "Come now, let’s not linger. I'd hate for my good deed to go to waste."

Smoke curled around them, dark and choking. The fire climbed the walls, devouring cheap wallpaper and old wooden beams with frenzied hunger. The whole building groaned in protest, its foundations shifting beneath their feet.
Morbius reached for her and the woman flinched. Just for a second and then, realizing there was no other option, she grabbed onto him.

Morbius pulled her close, shielding her from the thickening smoke as his eyes quickly scanned the room for exit. The fire was encroaching towards them closer by the second, and worse yet had began to burn its way towards the window, their only exit.

They had seconds at best.

With a powerful leap, Morbius pushed off the ground, aiming for the shattered window, but something gave way. A section of the ceiling collapsed with a sickening crack, sending flaming debris tumbling between them and the exit. The force of it knocked the woman from his grip, sending her sprawling onto the blackened floor. She let out a strangled cry, scrambling backward as another burst of fire surged between them, licking at the walls with greedy fingers.

Morbius was on her in an instant, leaping through the wall of fire like a wraith. His taloned hands caught her shoulders, steadying her. She was terrified, close to fainting.

From the outside, through the shattered window, the scene told a different story. The woman, barely conscious, slumped in his grasp. Morbius hunched over her, his clawed fingers tight around her arms, his fanged mouth close to her throat. His jagged wings stood taut against his arms, catching the firelight, making him look less like a savior and more like a predator about to feed.

The flames cast monstrous shadows against the walls, distorting his silhouette into something other. Something inhuman. To anyone watching from the street, it was a nightmare unfolding before their eyes. A fire made worse by the addition of the Vampyre.

And if any so-called hero had come to play savior tonight, they would only see one thing:

A monster in the fire.

For Michael Morbius his good deed might not have gone to waste, but it definitely wasn't going to go unpunished.
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 8 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Hey all, just writing to say I'm still here! It's been a bit hectic since getting back from Poland, but I plan on reading everything and hopefully getting a post up tomorrow!
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 20 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

The trick was to look tired, not exhausted. Exhaustion drew attention. No, just the kind of worn out that made people glance past you in the street, assuming you were another overworked professional trying to scrape by in the city that never slept.

Michael Morbius had perfected the act. Years of living as someone people would point and stare at taught him the skills to make himself into a person they wouldn't look twice at.

His black hair was slicked back neatly and dark rimmed glasses tinted red rested on the bridge of his nose, not entirely necessary, but effective. They softened his angular face, made him seem less severe, and did their best to hide his piercing crimson gaze. He'd tried contact lenses in the past, but let's just say taking them out with claws led to less than comfortable results.

He wore a charcoal button-up shirt, the top button undone just enough to look effortless. His pants were dark, tailored but not expensive, the kind a doctor or scientist might wear when they didn't expect an audience. Finally was his overcoat. It fit perfectly, sleek yet unremarkable, the type of thing that could belong to an underpaid forensic consultant or a man walking home from an expensive restaurant. The inside lining was silk, a rich deep purple, a hidden luxury only he knew about.

It was all part of Dr. Nikos Michaels, forensic consultant, hematology specialist, and a man with absolutely nothing to hide. Especially not that he was secretely Morbius, The Living Vampire.

The weather in Brownsville was as unforgiving as the streets within it. Cold bullets of rain battered down onto Morbius as he rushed through the streets, one hand in his pocket and the other holding up a now soaked newspaper in a futile effort to stop his hair from getting wet. The wind carried the scent of damp pavement, cheap cigarettes, and gasoline, all of it layering over the faint iron tang of blood that always seemed to linger on his senses.

He took a quick left down a set of concrete stairs and punched in a code on a keypad, being met with the satisfying click of the metal door as it unlocked and let him into the morgue. Two officers stood by the doors in raincoats, huddled together for warmth. One of them, a bored looking woman with a heavy NYPD jacket and a styrofoam coffee cup, nodded when she saw him.
"Some weather, eh, doc? Surprised to see you out this late."

Morbius adjusted the strap on his worn leather satchel, smiling back to her. "Strange cases tend to keep me up."

The officer chuckled, stepping aside to let him through. "Well, you picked a good one tonight."

Inside, the air shifted from the cold bite of the rain to the sterile chill of the morgue. The overhead fluorescents buzzed faintly, casting everything in a stark, clinical glow. The scent of antiseptic, formaldehyde, and death pressed against his senses. Morbius exhaled slowly as he shook the water from his overcoat and adjusted his glasses. The morgue wasn't large, but it was efficient. Cold steel tables, rows of body lockers, a scattering of outdated computers and filing cabinets. It was the kind of place people avoided if they could help it, which made it one of the few places in the city where he could work freely without suspicion.

Dr. Neil Cavallero, Brownsville's resident medical examiner, was already at work, leaning over a sheet-covered body. His salt and pepper stubble and rumpled lab coat made him look more like a sleep deprived professor than a coroner. Morbius pulled off his overcoat, hanging it on a rusted hook by the door. "I heard we had another one." He flexed his fingers before sliding on a pair of gloves. "Same pattern?"

Cavallero let out a long, tired sigh and finally turned toward him, nudging the sheet covered body with the back of his hand. "You tell me." He pulled back the sheet.

The corpse belonged to a man in his early forties, lean, with short brown hair. There were no signs of struggle. No defensive wounds, no rope marks, no bullet holes or stab wounds. A clean, untouched body in a city where violent deaths were the norm. Morbius' eyes, as always, went straight to the throat, where he let his gaze settle on the thin, nearly invisible incision along the jugular. Something in his gut twisted.

"Cause of death?" Morbius asked, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

"That's the thing." Cavallero stepped back, rubbing his forehead. "Autopsy says massive internal hemorrhaging. Every major organ bled out from the inside." He glanced at Morbius, tired eyes narrowing. "You ever seen anything like that?" Cavallero ran a hand over his tired face as he moved over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. He motioned an offering to Morbius but was met with a decline. "Third this month. Same age range, same lack of ID, same drop-off point. Dumped in an alley near Livonia Avenue. And just like the others, no missing persons report, no criminal record, no dental matches. Like the guy never existed."

Morbius looked closer at the incision on the deceased's throat. It was surgical in precision, sealed with a synthetic compound that looked almost like medical glue. There was no blood pooling around the wound, no bruising suggesting a violent attack. Whoever had done this had bled him carefully, methodically.

Cavallero folded his arms. "You see what I mean, Nik? This wasn't some back alley mugging. Someone took his blood, then patched him up after the fact. But why go through all that trouble if you were just going to dump him like trash?"

Morbius' fingers hovered over the wound, his pulse quickening despite himself. It definitely wasn't a frenzied, instinctual kill. This was controlled. Clinical. Someone in Brooklyn was harvesting blood, and doing it with a surgeon's hand, and for once it wasn't him.

Morbius swallowed, the hunger coiling in his gut like a tightening noose. He pushed it down, focused on the matter at hand. "I need to run a full panel on what’s left in his bloodstream." he murmured. "Something tells me this isn't just organ trafficking."

Cavallero sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah? And what the hell do you think it is, then?"

Morbius exhaled slowly. "Something worse."

He let the words settle as he reached into his satchel, withdrawing a syringe and a few vials. His hands moved with practiced efficiency. He inserted the needle into the man's arm, drawing what little blood remained. It was thinner than it should be, paler. Something had been introduced to his system before death, something that had altered the blood's composition.

Cavallero watched him work, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and concern. "You know, Nik, most consultants don’t get this hands on."

Morbius didn't look up. "Most consultants don't have a specialty in hematology."

Cavallero snorted. "Fair enough. Just don’t let the higher ups catch you poking around too much. They barely tolerate me asking questions." He took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the bitterness. "You think we should be worried?"

Morbius removed the vial and held it up to the light, watching how the blood clung to the glass. "I think whoever did this is careful. Experienced. And I think if they've done it three times, they’ll do it again."

A beat of silence passed between them. The morgue was always quiet, but now the air felt heavier, like the cold was seeping into the walls. Morbius glanced at Neil with a smile. "But you also don't strike me as the type to hang around Livonia Avenue. Plus, your blood is about 60% caffeine at this point, unless he's opening up a new coffee chain I'd say you're safe."

Cavallero let out a small chuckle, leaning back against a desk. "You want me to send the reports over when I finish up here?"

Morbius nodded, slipping the vials into his coat pocket. "Send me everything you can. And if another body shows up—"

"I'll call you."

The rain was still falling when Morbius stepped back outside, but he barely noticed. His mind was already elsewhere. This wasn't just a murder. This was something else. The precision, the blood extraction, the lack of any real forensic trace, this had purpose behind it. And that meant whoever was responsible wasn't finished.

Morbius adjusted his glasses, blending seamlessly into the night as he walked back into the city. If the killer thought they could drain people dry without consequence, they were wrong.

He would find them.

And if it turned out they were anything like him?

Well.

Then it would be a very different kind of hunt.
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 21 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
IC is going live today, folks!


Fantastic! I have a post ready but just FYI I’ll be going to Poland from Thursday to Tuesday so will have limited time to write up a follow up post.
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 29 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
<Snipped quote by Half Pint>

Morbius is APPROVED




Thanks! Also just as an FYI I added Madame Masque to his list of enemies, being that he is based in Brooklyn.
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 29 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
M O R B I U S




Michael Morbuius ♦ Forensic Consultant♦ Brownsville, Brooklyn ♦


C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

"I was a man who sought to cure death. Now I am something far worse."

Morbius exists in a unique space between hero, antihero, and outright horror and as a result rubs a lot of heroes the wrong way, especially those he has come into contact with early into his afflication like Blade or Spider-Man. He is trying to prove himself as a changed man, but altering this image is proving far harder than he wishes.


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:
I believe that Morbius is a very underrated character within Marvel and there are many stories that can be told from the perspective of a cursed man trying to do good while battling with an afflication that forces him to do bad to survive. I'd love to explore stories surrounding him being involved in the wider hero community and turning their opinion around on him from believing he is a villanous monster into seeing him as a tragic figure who is trying, despite everything, to fight for the right cause.

A throughline of his story would be his desire to cure himself of his Vampyrism. While he fights for good with the power he now has, he'd much prefer to revert back to how he was before. I'm especially interested in exploring his approach to crime fighting in relation to other heroes. He fights in part to sustain himself with blood, and his methods may be darker than most would be comfortable with. His battles may be in part against mobsters, traffickers, and the like, but he could also have an angle to fight monsters lurking in the city's darkest corners. He doesn't have the luxury of being seen as a hero, and I want to play with the tension of whether New York will ever accept him or if he'll even let himself be accepted.


C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Abilities
  • Pseudovampirism – Morbius is a living vampire, possessing enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, and healing. However, he is not undead and posseses few of the weaknesses a regular vampire has.
  • Blood Dependency – He must consume blood to survive. Animal blood sustains him, but human blood is far more potent. The longer he starves, the less control he has.
  • Echolocation & Night Vision – His senses are adapted for hunting in darkness. He can "see" heartbeats, track movement, and detect fear.
  • Psionic Gliding - Morbius lacks true flight but through a combination of his hollow bones and mental powers he is able to glide for long distances.
  • Hypnotic Influence – Not true mind control, but he can hypontise those who look directly into his eyes for long enough. He can strongly input suggestion into their heads and the victim is likely to follow their command dependant on how strong their willpower is.


Skills
  • Genius Intellect - Previous to becoming the living vampire, Michael Morbius was a brilliant Nobel-Prize winning scientist with a speciality in biochemistry and more specifically hematology.
  • Hand-To-Hand Combat - Though not a trained martial artist, Morbius is a ferocious and instinctual fighter, using his inhuman agility, strength, and claws to overwhelm opponents. When in control, he fights tactically, using his environment and speed to his advantage. When starving or enraged, he becomes far more unpredictable, relying on raw power and brutal attacks.


Enemies
  • Madame Masque (Whitney Frost)
  • The Rose (Richard Fisk)
  • Basilisk (Wayne Gifford)
  • Hunger (Loxias Crown)
  • Doctor Paine
  • Kingpin (Wilson Fisk)


Allies
  • Dr. Jacob Weisenthal – One of the few people Morbius truly trusts, Dr. Weisenthal is a fellow scientist who has dedicated himself to finding a cure for Morbius' condition. He serves as a confidant and occasional benefactor, providing Morbius with medical assistance, research, and a rare sense of human connection. Without Weisenthal's help, Morbius would have little hope of ever reversing his affliction.
  • Martine Bancroft - Morbius' former fiancee and one of the most tragic figures in his life. Once deeply in love, Martine stood by him even after his transformation, desperately searching for a cure alongside him. However, their relationship became strained as Morbius' condition worsened, and was ultimately nullified the night he became the living vampire and fed on her. She is unaware if he is alive or dead at the moment, but still searches for any trace of him.
  • Blade – The Daywalker has hunted Morbius more than once, viewing him as another creature of the night to be put down. But over time, their relationship has grown more complex. While Blade still doesn't fully trust him, the two have fought side by side against greater supernatural threats.
  • Spider-Man – Peter Parker has often found himself at odds with Morbius, viewing him as a tragic yet dangerous figure. They have clashed repeatedly, but Spider-Man has also tried to help him, believing there is still good in him. Morbius, in turn, sees Spider-Man as a persistent obstacle but, deep down, acknowledges that Peter’s unwavering morality is something he envies.


S A M P L E P O S T:
The hunger called to him like instinct. It felt like more than an urge, more than the feeling an alcoholic gets at seeing an open bottle, this felt like second nature. Like his body was screaming at him for blood. And yet he resisted, despite everything telling him otherwise he resisted.

Morbius perched on the rooftop of a tenement building, staring down at the alley below. His claws dug into the crumbling brickwork, body tense, motionless, like a stone gargoyle watching over the worst part of town. He didn't need his echolocation to hear the struggle unfolding beneath him. The stench of sweat, fear, and fresh blood already told him everything.

A woman in the alley below, late twenties, cornered with her pulse racing. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her wide eyes darting for any escape, but the walls of the alley seemed to only close in around her. She clutched her handbag to her chest, her knuckles turning white. The copper scent of fresh blood reached Morbius' nostrils. She had been cut, not deeply, but enough to panic her, enough to fill the air with the sweet, sickening perfume that made his fangs ache.

Morbius leapt down from the rooftop behind her assailant in a soundless blur. His feet making no noise as he gently landed behind the hooded figure holding the switchblade, stretching out behind him almost entirely in black like a shadow. He glided over to the mugger, practically already tasting the sweet nectar of his blood as his fangs grew and his claw outstretched. The woman's eyes caught Morbius' own crimson pair, burning with desire. The woman gasped, she would have screamed had her breath not caught in her throat at the sight of the man.

The mugger quickly spun, and for a moment he froze, the weight of the inhuman visage before him rooting him to the ground. Then, instinct took over. He slashed out with the knife in a desperate attempt to kill the monster before him.

Morbius caught his wrist mid swing. His grip was like a vice as he raised his arm, pulling the mugger off the ground, dangling within his grasp. Panic surged through the criminal, his eyes glancing left and right as he squeeked out a desperate request.
"L-let me go, man!"

Morbius glanced up, using his other hand to quickly pull back the hood to reveal the muggers youthful appearance. He was just a kid. He could feel a wave of disappointment crash through him. This was par for the course in Brownsville, kids turning to crime and becoming adults in jail. He let out a sigh before letting him drop to the floor.

"Run."

The boy hesitated for only a second before scrambling out of there, dropping the knife as he stumbled backward. His sneakers scraped against the pavement as he bolted into the night, his panicked footfalls echoing down the alley.

The woman remained, still trembling, still clutching her bag. She had every right to run, to scream, to assume he was worse than the mugger who had just fled. Instead, she stared at him, a mixture of confusion and fear staining her face as she glanced to and from his pale, gaunt face.

Morbius turned away, stepping back into the shadows as his form melted into the darkness. The night would claim him once more.

The hunger was still there, clawing at his insides. But for tonight, at least, he had chosen not to feed.
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I'm working on my application now. Can I ask what the image section with "IMAGE/BANNER" in it is for? Is it for a custom banner of the characters name/logo?
In MARVELS: Streets of New York → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Interest Checks
It's an interesting take, but I do think struggling with his monstrous nature and craving for blood is kind of integral to his character- otherwise, the uniqueness of being a vampire gives way to being a vampire skin on a regular superhero. Having some degree of control over it isn't a bad idea, since it shows he's made progress, but I'd be careful not to just remove one of the character's central conflicts, since that's part of what makes him interesting.


You make an excellent point, I was more married to his characterisation in Midnight Suns than this aspect of his character and definitely agree it would be a lot more interesting with this struggle built in.
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