Dusty

Call of Cthulhu - Day of the Beast

Ah, many thanks Yankee.

On another note I'm thinking about making a combat oriented character, most likely a former Marine from the war and current prohibition officer who suspects the "haunted" house is just a guise for a speakeasy.

Call of Cthulhu - Day of the Beast

When the rolls, for example the strength roll is a 3d6 X 5, does that mean a 3d6 multiplied by five, or 3d6 rolled five times and take the best one?

Call of Cthulhu - Day of the Beast

Well, as it stands I'm a newbie when it comes to Call of Cthulhu, however I am open to learning if you'll have me.

SPIRITUM

Samdihier Zeintler

Samdihier “Sam” Zeintler
20 | 5’9” | A+

_{A P P E R A N C E}

---

When lined side by side with his fellow WARDEN classmates Sam will always be a fair bit shorter than the rest, but for what he lacks in height he makes up for his stocky build and general presence. He sports a pair of forget-me-not blue eyes, a full head of blonde hair, and a relaxed mien, paired with a mischievous yet infectious grin. While still possessing the confident air common amongst the WARDENs, bespoken by his muscular form and presumed lethality, nevertheless Sam remains as approachable as ever. His mere presence exudes good humor, and even in moments of oppressive silence Sam’s plethora of comical facial expressions and exaggerated movements makes him a larger than life figure for everyone around.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Throughout his early training, different combat and physical instructors made it their goal to wipe the foolish, goofball grin off Samdihier’s face. They soon discovered to great derision no amount of rigorous nor grueling training, which shattered his body, scarred his flesh, and drained his mental stamina ever sapped his nigh endless reserve of good cheer. Sam has always been that way from the moment he could first talk he was laughing and making others laugh. He carries with him an unquenchable drive and a go-lucky attitude that made him popular amongst almost all of classmates within the Citadel. Although not lacking in intellect, for Sam is both quick on his feet and blessed with sharp wit, he has never been the smartest amongst his class struggling through the knowledge and magical portions of his training. For all his outgoing nature Sam keeps his personal issues to himself, only releasing whatever turmoil he’s hiding inside in the form of dark jokes, and self-deprecating humor. For better or worse he’s taken it upon himself, as a personal mission of sorts, to keep his comrades’ spirits high, and their moral steady. Thus, it would be fair to classify him as the first follower, willingly charging first unto the breach, and being vocal support for his friends and leaders in their decisions, motivating others to do the same. Despite this Sam is not always the comic, indeed throughout his two decades he’s demonstrated a willingness to temper his antics, follow orders and be a pillar of support when necessary.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

For a young man so jovial and motivated its hard to imagine his first decade of life in childhood was not a happy time, from day one. Samdihier Zeintler’s arrival would be on the same day as his mother’s passing, in the small farming community in southern Rassvet. This perhaps was the breaking point for Sam’s father, who did not show the newborn son, nor his elder brother much love from that point on. Sam was a tough kid however, and he and his brother Rythal had a good relationship throughout those hard years, supporting each other despite the abuse and adversities they faced. They were exceptional children, irrespective of their common backgrounds learning quickly and as such became candidates for the WARDEN training. When Sam joked about how they might one day serve together amongst the ranks of the kingdom’s elite their father snuffed their hopes with a scathing prophecy, and a good whipping from his belt. “When the seas dry up, the sky falls down, and all the kingdom is torn asunder, that is when you two cowardly failures shall be become WARDENs, bah!” Rythal was accepted first of course, Samdihier following a year after, both determined to prove their father wrong.

Away from home at the Citadel Samdihier found he excelled in almost every field. Sure he struggled through the academic side of things, and he would never be at the top of his class in any respect, but his gung-ho attitude and many helpful friends kept him competitive amongst the WARDENs-to-be. Those years which most looked back upon with groans remembering the many challenges were the best of his short life as he trained to become a member of the revered and elite force. Nearing graduation would see the beginning of the conflict with the Empire, and the deployment of his brother Rythal to the front. Samdihier would keep in close contact with his sibling, eager to wrap up his final months and join him fighting for Rassvet’s independence. Those days drew ever nearer, and at last the Citadel named him a full member of the WARDENs, but instead of deploying him and his training squad to the front immediately Sam was given a short leave to prepare. A time he intends to take full advantage of, going out with several close friends and enjoying these few nights of freedom.

_{C O M B A T}

---

The epitome of the Vanguard, Sam is a frontline fighter who rather charge in headlong than hang back and exchange rounds from range. Equipped with heavy rifle and bayonet in the heat of the moment he can become a grinning angel of death, laying waste to the enemy formations with fire and close combat. He relies heavily upon his defensive spells, which absorb the returning fire and provide a shield for himself and those nearby. His magic tends to focus on battlefield control, whether fashioning smoke screens to cover movement, or stopping hostile rounds mid flight. He also branches into explosive fields, and carries a plethora of high explosive mines, breaching charges, grenades and the like to compliment his damaging incantations. Although at first glance he may seem an easy foe Sam excels in close quarters, skillfully utilizing his hands, feet, and weapon to put down much larger and stronger foes. Or at least he did in training, Sam has no experience of true combat, but his comrades can rest assured that Sam will be the first into the fight, and the last to retreat crying, “Tallyho!” all the way.

_{N O T E S}

---

N/A Currently

CONTAINMENT: Welcome to Facility B

File: MP-1986-IPS

Supervising Official:

Dr. Fredric L. Dobbermas

Full Name:

Ivan Petrovitch Sidorov

Age:

Fourteen

ID Number:

MY-1986-IPS – FLD
Addendum Required for Subject Transfer to Purple Ward.
MP-1986-IPS

Nationality:

Ukrainian, Slavic

Appearance:

Height: - 137.16cm
Weight: - 36.8kg
Hair: - N/A
Eye Color: - Black, Wide Inefficient Pupils, Tapetum.

MP-1986-IPS is a Slavic male, though lacking the physical similarities to peers in his age and racial grouping. The subject is extremely pale, small and underweight, possessing elongated forelimbs which taper to three fingered hands devoid of thumbs. Each digit is extended roughly 7cm by a curved, razor edged bone claw. When trimmed the bone can recover over a period of three weeks, current procedure requires MP-1986-IPS’s claws to be trimmed biweekly by trained personnel to ensure staff and subject’s safety. The subject is highly ineffective with these hands and fingers, struggling to preform even the most basic motor functions. Although MP-1986-IPS’s facial proportions are mostly accurate to standard charts the subject’s eyes are nearly twice the average size with a diameter of 40mm, nearly all of which is taken up by tapetum pupils which shine green. MP-1986-IPS reacts poorly to sudden light, attempting to cover his eyes and turn his face away or even lashing out when strong luminescence is directed towards him. Presumed due to mutation addendum 2, MP-1986-IPS lacks any hair across his entire body. The remainder of the subject’s physique is typical of the average fourteen-year-old male.

Background:

Containment operations first became aware of MP-1986-IPS during Russian operations in the Eastern Ukraine when reports arrived suggesting the Russian Federation captured an alien of some kind crossing the border near [redacted] Ukraine. Field reports returned positive of the anomalous creature, under the unknown person moniker of Ivan Petrovitch Sidorov. He was labeled MY-1986-IPS and recovered for proper containment. Investigation into the subject’s background revealed he was human in origin, showing obvious anomalous traits soon after or at birth. His arrival resulted in the death of his mother [redaction] leaving his only remaining caregiver and father [redacted]. His father, deceased, kept MP-1986-IPS secured beneath his home for an estimated eleven years where it can be inferred MP-1986-IPS was physically and psychologically abused, methods unconfirmed. Through unknown means MP-1986-IPS escaped and killed [redacted] before fleeing through the night across the Ukrainian-Russian border where he was detained by Colonel [redacted], and Russian Border Control and subsequently recovered by Containment personnel.

Recovery personnel reported initial aggressive behavior from then MY-1986-IPS, several confirming anomalous burns on equipment and hands, while the transport vehicle’s internal integrity was compromised. Upon proper containment a second anomalous property was discovered, and MY-1986-IPS was reclassified to containment level Purple, active immediately. Due to MP-1986-IPS’s unique circumstances regular inspection of containment procedures are required, and proper training to reduce the subject’s wild nature were taken. After several months MP-1986-IPS has been labeled ‘SAFE’ for properly trained staff to interact with and has even been tempered from his initial near feral state to even learn basic English and begin instruction in fine motor skills. Permission to allow MP-1986-IPS to interact with other low-risk anomalous subjects pending approval.



Powers:

Altered Physiology – Alterations in MP-1986-IPS’s bone skeletal, muscular, and nervous systems are his most obvious anomalous properties. The subject in question possesses 7cm claws, three fingers, no thumbs, and large light sensitive eyes. Experience suggests MP-1986-IPS responds defensively when exposed to sudden light, resulting in staff injury. Containment should be double doored to ensure no hall lighting enters MP-1986-IPS’s containment. The subject’s claws shall be trimmed on a biweekly basis, and all personnel should be trained to operate in low light conditions before entering MP-1986-IPS’s quarters. A single red light shall be used as illumination, shaded, and hung high enough to be clear of MP-1986-IPS’s reach, with a constant burn. No furniture, materials or items shall be provided which would allow the subject to damage or reach the light.

Acidic Secretions – Following the discovery of compromised containment integrity, and personnel burns, examination of MP-1986-IPS’s abilities have shown an initial miscalculation. The subject produces an acidic sweat of a yet unrecognized chemical with a ph of 1.2. Key production zones on MP-1986-IPS’s anatomy are the base of his feet, his palms, the top of his head, and under his armpits. Furthermore saliva, blood, and other bodily fluids retain similar levels of acidity. When interacting with MP-1986-IPS staff must wear full body protective gear, and a constant cool temperature will be maintained to minimize acid production. Any attempt by MP-1986-IPS to preform strenuous activity of any kind shall be stopped at once. Full inspections of containment and collar shall be made DAILY, and MP-1986-IPS shall be provided with a replacement set of garments as required.


Privileges:

Advancements in basic communication has revealed MP-1986-IPS desires human interaction, including physical contact. This may be provided daily by personnel and instructors during scheduled inspections and lessons. Simple games made of rubber or durable plastic may also be provided, and MP-1986-IPS shall be encouraged to practice language and fine motor skills.

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

The Green Arrow: #1

_{Season Three: Justice Rising}

---

_{Star City | Cemetery}



Footsteps crunching across the snow laced field interrupted the quiet of the cemetery. Oliver forced his attention away from the gravestones’ polished surfaces, suppressing a sniff and dabbing swiftly at his eyes. An older woman, bundled appropriately for the frosty temperatures made her way slowly towards him, hugging herself tight against the playful wind that tousled her greying hair. Ten paces away she halted her slow advance, removing her spectacles with a shaking hand as if she’d seen a ghost. She might as well have. Oliver was the spitting image of Robert, from the way he stood, to his ungloved hands clasped behind his back, to the flattened locks of golden hair. He even possessed the emerald eyes that sparkled mischievously despite the welling moisture the young man could not entirely repress. They stood in mutual, silent disbelief. Neither able to utter a word until the woman broke down, sinking to her knees, stuttering sobs so racked by guilt and grief that even Oliver felt his walls begin to crumble. He went to her, bringing the aging woman into an embrace that was accepted and returned in fierce abandon. Jean Loring pressed her thin face into his shoulder, shaking between the tears that stained his jacket.

“I – its not possible.” She achieved, taking several deep breaths to try and calm herself. She turned towards the gravestone, clearly labeled ‘Oliver Jonas Queen, Beloved Son’. “I didn’t believe it, I couldn’t. I thought it was some terrible prank and that I would find nothing. But when the test came back, and the notes and everything you couldn’t have known unless you were Oliver. Surely not, but it really is you, it must be. H – how? You’ve been gone for so long.” She could deny it no longer, even after the DNA tests came back positive she’d doubted, and every second of the car ride she’d contemplated turning back, calling the police against the note’s direct request and reporting the man attempting to impersonate a deceased child. The ocean claimed him all those years ago, and she moved on with her professional life. Robert Queen, his wife Moria and their son Oliver, a small but important chapter in her three-decade career. A book closed, and a conclusion signed by three empty graves. Except here stood evidence to the contrary very much alive.

“A long story Mrs. Loring.” Oliver answered once he wrestled back control over his own emotions. He maintained their embrace, partly in an unwillingness to part with a link to his childhood, and to maintain their cover. If anyone watching glanced their way, they would see only two people grieving for a departed loved one and nothing more. Jean did not hold any such concerns however, and pushed them apart, holding tight to his forearms as she looked him up and down.

“Then you can tell it to me and Joseph over dinner, he will be as thrilled as I am. You look thin Oliver; have you been eating well? I’ll have Joseph order something on the drive back.” She paused as Oliver bade her quiet, laying a finger across his lips.

“That would put you and Mr. Loring in unnecessary danger.” Oliver whispered taking the time to scan the surrounding area. He’d implored she maintain complete confidentiality in her work, and even then, he still was not certain he could trust her. Not that he suspected she would willfully betray him, but his known presence in Star City could cause any number of uncertain reactions. More than his own safety was at risk in such a scenario, and if long dead Oliver Queen returned and became center headline alongside the criminal Green Arrow, any number of intellectually inclined people would be quick to place two and two together. Fortunately, Oliver’s warning cast a sobering spell over Jean, her dark eyes widening at the implication.

“W-what? Why? Oliver you’re alive! This is good news isn’t it?” The look she gave him was pleading, and not for the first time Oliver considered how terrible his plan was, and how little he was prepared for the consequences. How long before she let slip the truth, and his father’s enemies turned their attention on the one place he’d considered himself invisible? Hiding in plain sight was what he’d been taught, but that only worked if your quarry suspects nothing.

“Do you remember what happened? What you were told about the night they – you know?” He took her hand in his wishing for all the world he could take back everything, let her continue her life in peace, without all the upset and hurt his reappearance would surely bring. But he needed Jean Loring, she was the only person he felt he could trust in his endeavors.

She nodded, her brow furrowing as she focused on news reports she’d read over a decade before. “There… There was a storm, and they said something must have damaged the emergency beacon and cut out radio communication because they never found anything, not even a piece of debris.” She shuddered at the memory, at the loss of so many friends and associates the freak accident claimed. “Forty-nine missing, including four children and some among them being of the most affluent names of the time. They called it the worst maritime disaster of the decade.” She trailed off as Oliver shook his head.

“Lies, or at least inaccurate.” He closed his eyes, wondering how much he should share, or even could without falling apart. Screams echoed in his ears, the wild cries and desperate gurgling of the slaughtered, the stench of piss and blood as men, women, and children were indiscriminately cut down one by one. He could still hear the thwack of his father’s body as it collapsed upon the crimson deck, his Hawaiian button up laid open by cruel steel that flashed in the darkness. The mask of orange and black that watched with indifference as Moria fell beside her husband, gasping out her final words, words Oliver would never hear. The mocking laughter as he and Tommy prepared to struggle for their very lives. Everything permanently carved into his mind in exquisite detail except the one thing he wished he could remember. “They will make you believe, whatever they want. Truth is a tool and a weapon, and a weakness to be exploited. Never a right. No one could ever know what they did, or who asked the deed to be done. Whether the others were also targets or mere witnesses I cannot say.”

“Oliver?” Jean whispered his name, horrified by what he was implying. “Who would do such a thing?”

She received no answer, and never would Oliver resolved. The League was a tool much like the truth. Their blades did not discriminate or hate, as his own arrows were when they flew to claim lives, indifferent to the target whether it be paint and straw or flesh and blood. No, the man responsible lived in Star City, thriving off his father’s work. His hands might be clean of any physical blood, but the stains were there, nonetheless.

“Let me worry about that Mrs. Loring.” Oliver assured her when a moment passed. “I need your help, but I don’t want you getting hurt or caught up in my battle, unnecessarily.”

The woman did not hesitate for even a moment, squeezing his hand in a show of dedication and courage. “Name it, anything Oliver. What can I do?”

Leading her over to a nearby stone bench Oliver dusted off the snow sitting Jean down before taking a seat beside her. It was a good spot. White fields stretched in every direction marked by neat rows of carven monuments to the deceased. They reclined beneath a gnarled oak as old as the cemetery itself. In the warmer months its boughs might provide shade for weary mourners, but now the branches hung barren, its only ornaments twinkling icicles and tiny snowdrifts that collected upon the twigs.

Deciding he had little time to spare Oliver began their discussion, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to ensure no one was near. The cemetery was deserted for now, but someone could easily conceal themselves behind one of the larger stones, or even the rises of the smaller berms could hold a would be. “Do you know Malcolm Merlyn?”

“Yes of course, he’s the CEO of Queen Industries – oh!” Jean raised a hand to her mouth. “That’s your company Oliver.”

He nodded. “I know, and how did Mr. Merlyn come to own and run the business?”

“I am not certain. I think the most likely path was from you to John Merlyn, your father’s Chief financial officer, and then to Malcolm. Since John was onboard during the… Well, he was unable to receive the inheritance like yourself and Malcolm would have been his next of kin... You’re not suggesting, Malcolm was responsible?” She shuddered at the thought of working for Robert’s killer, and not only that but defending him on a routine basis.

“No, I don’t think he did. Malcolm might be an opportunist, but he’s not someone who would murder his own brother on the hope the board of directors would pass control on too him. I hope. There are far more dangerous people in Star. Individuals who would not react well to my presence here and would do just about anything to see me isolated and gone. For good this time. Which is why for everyone’s safety counts on you not letting anyone know, no matter how tempting that I’ve returned. If they do find out, and someone saw us here speaking together, you know what they’ve already done, what they might do. No one can know, not even Joseph. Promise me that Mrs. Loring, please?”

“Oliver I’m so sorry.” Jean wept, her back pressing against the unforgiving wooden back of their chosen bench. “I didn’t realize, Joseph already knows, he’s waiting at the car. I was worried you might be someone else pretending to be you, I asked him to wait for a half hour, and if I didn’t come back, that he could call the police and come find me.”

Oliver flicked his hand over, checking the beat up yet reliable little watch that ticked away on his wrist. They’d been conversing for at least twenty minutes, and it was impossible to say how long Jean’s walk from her car had been. “Its alright Mrs. Loring, I should’ve realized how hard it would be to keep that from him. Its my own fault. Just swear him to secrecy as well.”

They both rose, dusting stray snow from their garments and readying themselves to depart. Jean seemed reluctant and pulled out her phone explaining as she did. “I’ll call him on my way back, so he doesn’t worry. And ensure sure he retains his silence on the matter, we’re good at keeping secrets. He’s married to a lawyer after all.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Loring.” Oliver said giving her one final hug. It’d been painful the last few weeks seeing all the links to his distant childhood, but meeting someone his father had considered a friend since his college days, and Oliver himself had known her almost as a member of the family, that’d struck a particularly sensitive chord. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, but there was no one else who would have understood.” And I wanted to meet you and see a friendly familiar face. No matter the danger, he didn’t add. “If you can, could you recover some of the records concerning the inheritance, including my father’s final will?”

“Certainly.” Jean promised. She checked the time and grimaced. “I’ve got to hurry, Joseph’s patient but he did not approve of this meeting, said it was too crazy to be true. Frankly I partly believed him as much as I wanted it to be true, with you being so secretive he was right to worry. We had no way to contact you back, just waiting for your next note. Which begs the question, how will I find you once I’ve got the documents?”

Oliver gestured towards the triple gravestones that stood in eternal vigil over empty earth. “Leave them here, under some flowers or something. Mom will watch them until I stop by to collect.”

“I suppose she will.” Jean sighed as Oliver gave her a gentle smile and turned to leave. Reaching out she grasped his shoulder, stopping him before he could go another step. She felt a strength there and saw the determination in his eyes and knew there would be no stopping him. There would be no convincing him to bury the hatchet and forget the terrible wrong done. Nevertheless, she thought she might as well try. “Oliver, I don’t know what happened, or why, or who and I don’t think even you know for certain. Ambiguities aside if these people are so dangerous, maybe its best to let it go. We have the capability to get you on your feet, we can send you somewhere nice far from here and let you live a normal life. Please, I don’t want to attend your funeral again.”

“A normal life is impossible for me now.” Oliver took her hand and gently removed it from his shoulder. “Even if I wanted that. Star bleeds, and there are some things worth fighting for, and yes dying for if it comes to that.”

“I understand.” No, no. no! She wanted to scream, to force him to end whatever plans he was forming, and leave it all behind. Was she honoring Robert’s memory by letting him entangle himself in a struggle against cold blooded killers, or failing her old friend by letting his only son risk his life against appalling odds? After all, what could one man do against the corruption that infested Star City? She did not know, fifty years of life experience and she had nothing more insightful to impart. “Just, just promise me you’ll stay safe, alright?”

Oliver laughed despite everything, an easy grin supplanting the tears he wished to shed. “I’ll do my best, I swear.”

Warhammer Fantasy: From Small Beginnings...

*Sad Warhammer noises*

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

He Doth Blow his Horn, and Hark his Merry Men...

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

T H E G R E E N A R R O W

---

^{_{O L I V E R Q U E E N ♦ R E N E G A D E ♦ S T A R C I T Y ♦ L E A G U E O F S H A D O W S}}

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

---

^{"This City Really Does Deserve Better."}

After an invitation to a banished Vtalavian Count by the name of Werner Vertigo turns sour the political battle for control goes awry for the top family in Star City. Robert Queen, his wife and immediate family, along with a good number of his closest confidants and business partners are murdered aboard the family’s private yacht. The boat is sunk, and all the world is led to believe the entirety of the Queen family, alone with several other affluent names are gone forever lost in a storm at sea. However, the League of Shadows, the hired murderers responsible for the slaughter did not fulfill their contract to the letter. Instead they kidnapped two young children from the Queen and Merlyn families respectively to train as prospective assassins for the League. They were of the prime age, and their potential was made clear that terrible night when the two fought bitterly to save their own lives, impressing the cold-blooded Slade Wilson. Oliver Queen and Thomas Merlyn at the tender age of eleven were both presumed dead alongside their families. In truth the boys were undergoing the grueling training and corruptive brain washing preparing them to become worthy Shadows on the remote and frozen island off the coast of Russia. There they would grow to become deadly warriors, fierce and unstoppable. Oliver was recognized for his guile, and Thomas for his grit, and through even the cruelest nights, and harshest days they managed to not only survive but thrive within the Cult's lower ranks. Somehow, after years of service and all the indoctrination Oliver never forgot who he really was, and what had truly transpired. Always trapped in the back of his mind was the truth, fighting to shatter the mental chains and fly free.

A decade in the service of the Shadows saw Oliver sent on a kill mission through his childhood home of Star City. The hit was simple and conducted without a hitch, but in the few hours of downtime between departure to his next assignment he felt compelled to visit him home. It was not the place he recalled. Oliver was shocked to find the blossoming city he remembered from his youth had been crippled, plagued by crime and ruled through a puppet city government by Count Vertigo. Everything that he’d lost at the orders of the Count then returned to Oliver, and his conditioning began to peel away. He felt the pain of loss, and the shame at the blood his own hands had split. It took weeks for him to swallow all his tears and in the end he became obsessed with turning the wretched, city-wide collapse around. Abandoning the Shadows and everything he knew Oliver Queen fled back to Star and began preparing for a war retake the fallen city from the monsters who ruled it from the highest towers, and lowest slums. He would take on a new identity, one he remembered hearing stories of while being tucked into bed by his mother and father. He would become the Hooded Archer, the Prince of Tricks, The Green Arrow.

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:

---

The idea behind this version of Green Arrow is to have Oliver Queen set within a hostile city that has forgotten the billionaire, and sees only the renegade outlaw fighting against the foul disease that has infected his home. Without a multi-national billion dollar corporation supporting his vigilantism, Queen will be forced to rely more on his wits and guile than fancy arrows and knock-off Batman gadgets. Battling gangsters, corrupt police, white collar criminals, and Shadows all with a giddy laugh and yet another trick up his sleeve, this is the Robin Hood-esque figure I'm interested in writing about.

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

---

Supporting Cast

William Harper - William is a Park Ranger living in the Graylord State forest with his son Roy, and his wife Maria, only a few miles from Star City. He is sympathetic to Oliver's mission, thanks to a mutual connection through Robert Queen. He provides shelter, medical aid, and sanctuary for Oliver in his times of need.

Roy Harper - Roy is the son of a pair of Park Rangers living in the forest reserve north of Star City, near the US Canadian border. He's a rambunctious kid, often getting into trouble and pushing the limits of his parent's patience. His act first think later attitude tends to get him into tight spots, but he's usually quick enough on his feet to keep from getting hurt.

Dinah Lance - Left blank for now in case anyone wants to play as Black Canary.

Jean Loring - Former attorney for the Queen Family, and the only remaining connection to Oliver's past, she is the first person Oliver goes to for help. While Oliver takes on the combative front in the war to save Star City, Jean Loring begins preparing the legal battle necessary to take Queen Industries back from its illegitimate owner, Malcolm Merlyn.

Thomas Merlyn - Former friends, Oliver and Tommy grew up together under the Shadow of the Assassins, training and serving at the whim of the Demon's Head. Tommy, as he is called by Oliver has become the feared Dark Archer, an expert killer and radical follower of the League of Shadows. He is known for never failing in his duty, and eliminating targets with extreme prejudiced.

Count Werner Vertigo - The puppet master behind Star City's collapse and the grisly demise of all his political rivals aboard the Queen family's yacht nearly a decade ago. Now the Count lives in the shadows of Star City, gathering his strength and wealth for his triumphant return to Vlatava, his home country.

Malcolm Merlyn - Owner and CEO of Queen Industries, he is the only large scale businessman who actually thrives in Star City's current political environment, through suspected illicit means. He gained the top spot at Queen Industries after the tragic demise of his brother, and his brother's business partner, former owner Robert Queen. Through some uncertain means he stepped up, and was put into position by the board of directors and has been running Queen Industries ever since.

Danial Brickworth - A mutant mobster, "Danny" is a giant of a man covered in red-hinted, hardened growths making him immune to most projectiles and blunt force weaponry. He is immensely powerful possessing low level super strength, and worst of all a brilliant mind for villainy and crime. He's a hands on, do it your selfer who isn't afraid to get a little blood on his hands. On top of being an extremely dangerous mobster, he is the undisputed supreme ruler of the Star City underworld.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

For Were Sir Guy and Sir Robin to Meet Again Blood Shall Surely Follow

.

Guessing at Adrian Guberschans rise to power in the outer Vannels Area would have been a feat of impressive divination. Nobody would have looked at the skinny thirteen year old boy he’d once been, sporting a bloody nose and mismatched socks, and still somehow determined he would turn into the proud and ruthless mob boss that ran everything from Third to the Forty-fifth with an iron fist and a glob of tobacco spit. All for his superiors in Brioni leather blacks back up in city hall. He was the middleman, the collector, the go getter, and ever since the police department had been told to turn a blind eye to his exploits, he’d been the terror of Vannel and the wider industrial zone. And as it happened a prime target for the masked and hooded vigilante concealed amongst the deepest shadows.

It was well known that Adrian had it good with some serious higher ups, a direct line and the personal number to the next league of mob bosses in Star City which made him dangerous to mess with, besides the practical heat packing goons he surrounded himself with. Oliver could count four men not including Adrian, the obvious bulges in their basketball shorts denoting concealed firearms as they lugged the last of their nightly ill-gotten earnings into the back of a blacked-out SUV. Wood and leather hissed as Oliver lade shaft to string, adjusting his stance under the cover of a frigid midnight breeze.

Invisible.

Silent.

Deadly.

“You are not where you’re supposed to be.”

Oliver Queen’s arrow flew true, thudding deep into the wrist of the nearest thug, forcing the man to his knees, a gut-wrenching cry escaping his lips. Shouts rang out, men drew steel, loading lead and powder as they searched for the unseen archer. Oliver ignored them. Spinning about he readied a second projectile a mere heartbeat after the voice sounded behind him, drawing to his ear as he prepared to fight for his very life. A man capable of sneaking up on him would prove a dangerous foe, one worthy of his fullest attention. A twitch in the shadows was all he needed to sight in and let fly. The arrow buzzed its deathtune but just before it stuck a hand moved to intercept knocking the shaft away. Before Oliver could dispatch another attempt the man slid into the thin moonlight, drawing back his hood to reveal a weatherworn face, shrouded in an assassin’s black. Oliver stayed his hand, an easy smile emerging from beneath his green hood. The face was concealed, but for Oliver there was no denying who breathed beneath the mask.

“Tommy Merlyn? Hell’s teeth you near scared me half to death. I could have killed you.” Oliver’s infectious smile did not sway the dark garbed marksman however, and he repeated his accusation in no uncertain terms.

“You are not where you are meant to be Oliver Queen.”

Oliver’s grin faded, and he lowered his bow, releasing a frustrated sigh. Of all the people they could have sent after him… The League knew him too well, and they deemed it necessary to make things difficult for their wayward assassin. They could not understand his needs, and where flat refusal might work on any other agent, Tommy was nearly as stubborn as himself, and more devoted to the cult than life itself. Nevertheless, Oliver squared his shoulders, he was resolute, his mind was made up, and he would not go back come hell or high water. They would never understand his reasons, but Tommy, Tommy might. “Help me finish here Tommy.” He pleaded, giving his old friend a full blast of his natural charm. “For old time sakes, and then I’d like to show you something, really important to me. Then we’ll talk, alright?”

At first Oliver worried Tommy would refuse and force to point then and there on that dark roof, but he wavered and broke at last, shaking his head with an irritated snort. “Fine but make it quick. What is this about anyway?”

“Tax collection.” Oliver replied cheerily as he returned his attention to Adrian and his three remaining functional goons, and the fourth who’d passed out from the pain. They’d attempted making a break for the hills in the half-loaded SUV, but four previously thrown darts had already completed their work in transforming the sleek vehicle into a particularly heavy street ornament. “Fighting a one-man war isn’t cheap you know, and if anyone should use that funding they so boldly collected from the local drug and prostitution rings I’d rather it was me than some pinstriped count.”

“They got all that from drugs and prostitution?” Merlyn inquired, his voice once again accusatory as he knelt beside Oliver on the snow blanketed eaves, his bow in hand and an arrow on the string.

Oliver flinched, he shouldn’t try to lie to Tommy, even in a casual way, the man was far too sharp for that. “Well, no. They gather protection money from local businesses too.” He shook his finger under Tommy’s nose disturbing the black shroud. “How about we ask them how much they took from the locals to return it to them; would that make you feel better?”

Tommy’s frown deepened. “This is not what you should be justifying to me Ollie.”

“Right,” Oliver coughed, shifting uncomfortable under Tommy’s resolute glare. “Well then let’s disarm them, try not to miss and make them bleed though. I’ve been studying them for a while now, and I only incapacitated that first one because he was the most dangerous. Competent with a pistol, or at least he knew how to hold it properly. The others... Not so much, besides I require them for manual labor.”

“You know I don’t miss.” Tommy growled, and sure enough in the space of a heartbeat four arrows flew from two bows disarming the remaining gangsters, leaving them rubbing their stinging fingers and howling for all they were worth. The citizens of the Vannels knew better than to concern themselves with the near constant gang warfare that went on in the rundown suburbs, they merely turned up the music or white noise and pretended the cries of pain did not exist.

Oliver dropped from his post upon the roof like a green wraith, his shadow following close behind as they approached the shocked Adrian. He was a large man, having lost his skinny look fifteen years prior, he possessed an array of impressive muscles and stood almost a full head taller than Oliver. Seeing the olive clad archer approach Adrian snorted derisively, thinking he might demonstrate what a few rounds of steroids were capable of and down the lithe hooded man and end this outrage once and for all. He did not account for the speed and skill of the man who now faced him, and for his valiant efforts Adrian received nothing more than a bloody nose and a world that seemed to spin as he dropped to his knees, groaning in pain.

“Oh, shush now you’ll be alright, you just shouldn’t have tried a left hook, I’m particularly good at parrying those. Isn’t that right Dark?”

If Tommy was displeased at the use of his operational code name, he did not show it, merely inclining his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of Oliver’s claim. Oliver shrugged giving the gang leader a friendly pat on his back. “He doesn’t talk much on missions, so don’t mind him. Say, you look mighty clever, maybe you could help me out. You see, I seem to have misplaced my pocket change, have you by any chance seen a few thousand dollars lying around?”

Adrian blanched, dabbing pitifully at his bleeding nose. “W-w-what? Who are you, you bastard?”

“Oh, you know, Arrow, Green, The. Whatever order you’d prefer really old chum. I don’t mind. Anyway, have you seen that cash? I’d appreciate your help.”

“No,” Adrian was nearly crying at this point and he looked to his remaining men who had wised up after seeing their leader so efficiently defeated and were not moving a muscle under the watchful gaze of the Dark Archer. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about you maniac!”

“Hm, that’s too bad. Hey, wait, look at that.” Oliver stood up and walked over to the SUV, throwing wide the rear doors with a triumphant grin. “You did find it, thank you Adrian! I knew I could count on you, you’re the best. You know what, since you’re being such a good friend would you mind loading it up in my car for me.” Oliver flicked his wrist and a short double beep sounded and the lights to an expensive green sports car flashed on, revealing itself where once it was concealed in shadow. Oliver nearly collapsed laughing as Adrian’s face paled, first in shock then outrage as he recognized the Michigan plates.

“Hey, that’s my new car!”

“Load her up boys,” Oliver laughed, and then his joviality vanished, his final word freezing the blood in Adrian and his men’s veins as he stepped upon the ruined wrist of the unconscious man, ripping the arrow out in one vicious twist and laying the gory shaft upon his bowstring with a sinister sneer. “Please.”

The next half hour saw Oliver and Tommy speeding away in the commandeered sports car, leaving the four men zip-tied hand and foot to a broken streetlamp for the proper authorities to handle. More than likely they would be released under the corrupted police force, or merely freed by a fellow gang member who stumbled upon them. Either way the message was sent, and it would be heard by every upper white-collar criminal and mob boss Adrian could contact once he found a phone. The Green Arrow would be a known entity before morning, but an underestimated one, Adrian’s pride would ensure that.

The two friends were silent as Oliver guided the car out of the City leaving the run-down buildings and near third world hovels its remaining citizens survived in behind. Star City, Oliver remembered it being the pinnacle of American industrial and economic might, now reduced to a pathetic shadow of its former self after years of corruption and vitriolic politics. Oliver’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel merely thinking about it. His city he would claim, and yet he’d spent almost half life away from it, abandoning his home to its undeserved fate. Never again.

At long last the winding highway shifted into a gravel driveway and Oliver pulled to a stop outside an abandoned mansion. For a place that had been empty for nearly a decade it was in surprisingly decent condition. The paint was peeling, the lawn was well overgrown, and a few windows were shattered, but otherwise it proudly stood as it always had, a vain monument to the Queen family’s vast wealth and power.

“Welcome to my home.” Oliver said, a tad bitterly. “Actually, I’m technically a squatter as my father’s will was no doubt lost after the apparent death of the entire Queen family, its probably owned by some bankrupt real estate firm or something now. Either way its supposed to be mine so I’ve claimed it. Might as well, there was only rats living here since.”

“We gave up the personal and forsook our inheritance!” Tommy’s vitriolic response caused Oliver to cringe, despite having known the argument was imminent. “Your home is the League, your family is the League, you are the League’s! Ollie what have you done?”

“I gave it up.” Oliver kept his voice level, but his hand shook as he stood his ground, defending his decision to abandon the only family he’d known since the age of eleven. “Don’t you see what they’ve done to us Tommy? We were too young to realize it then, but they killed our family, our real family. Because of the League I don’t even remember what my mother looks like, and yet they expect us to serve them blindly? I won’t do it anymore Tommy, I won’t kill anymore, I want nothing to do with the Demon’s Head or any of it ever again. I know its unprecedented, I know its never been done before, but I quit the League of Shadows, and I’m never going back. This is my home, and the man who hired the League is still here dancing amongst the ashes of Star, reveling in his victory over my father. But I’m not my father, and I play by a different set of rules.”

“…You can’t quit the League of Shadows Ollie.”

“I can, and I did.”

A silent battle of wills took place on that dark driveway, the two stubborn friends held each other’s gazes, refusing to look away. For how long they remained that way, locked in silent mental warfare Oliver could not say. At last Tommy conceded defeat, looking away with a frustrated grunt. Oliver had won this battle, an important one but would it be the last?

“I’ll have to tell the Demon’s Head, everything.”

“I know, I’m sorry it came to this, but I've made my decision. Call it revenge, call it justice, call it whatever you like, this city is my responsibility now. I can’t leave again, if I don’t fight, I don’t think anyone else will.” Oliver’s heart went out to his childhood friend. They’d been together through thick and thin, since that first terrible day, through the years of brain washing and grueling training, past their first kills and to this very night that they would have to part ways, ideological opposites. He was putting Tommy in a difficult spot, and Tommy by taking the time to personally report to the Demon’s Head was giving him a chance to prepare.

“I only hope, for both our sakes.” Tommy said at last, stepping out of the car, clearly preparing for the long walk back into the city. “That we never meet again. Farewell Oliver Queen. And good luck.”

“Goodbye Tommy.” Oliver choked out as his lifelong friend vanished into that cold winter night.

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

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Issues

Issue One

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

Completed Sheet, I might come by a few hundred times to fix grammar errors and the like, but nothing big should change.

He Doth Blow his Horn, and Hark his Merry Men...

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

T H E G R E E N A R R O W

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^{_{O L I V E R Q U E E N ♦ R E N E G A D E ♦ S T A R C I T Y ♦ L E A G U E O F S H A D O W S}}

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

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^{"This City Really Does Deserve Better."}

After an invitation to a banished Vtalavian Count by the name of Werner Vertigo turns sour the political battle for control goes awry for the top family in Star City. Robert Queen, his wife and immediate family, along with a good number of his closest confidants and business partners are murdered aboard the family’s private yacht. The boat is sunk, and all the world is led to believe the entirety of the Queen family, alone with several other affluent names are gone forever lost in a storm at sea. However, the League of Shadows, the hired murderers responsible for the slaughter did not fulfill their contract to the letter. Instead they kidnapped two young children from the Queen and Merlyn families respectively to train as prospective assassins for the League. They were of the prime age, and their potential was made clear that terrible night when the two fought bitterly to save their own lives, impressing the cold-blooded Slade Wilson. Oliver Queen and Thomas Merlyn at the tender age of eleven were both presumed dead alongside their families. In truth the boys were undergoing the grueling training and corruptive brain washing preparing them to become worthy Shadows on the remote and frozen island off the coast of Russia. There they would grow to become deadly warriors, fierce and unstoppable. Oliver was recognized for his guile, and Thomas for his grit, and through even the cruelest nights, and harshest days they managed to not only survive but thrive within the Cult's lower ranks. Somehow, after years of service and all the indoctrination Oliver never forgot who he really was, and what had truly transpired. Always trapped in the back of his mind was the truth, fighting to shatter the mental chains and fly free.

A decade in the service of the Shadows saw Oliver sent on a kill mission through his childhood home of Star City. The hit was simple and conducted without a hitch, but in the few hours of downtime between departure to his next assignment he felt compelled to visit him home. It was not the place he recalled. Oliver was shocked to find the blossoming city he remembered from his youth had been crippled, plagued by crime and ruled through a puppet city government by Count Vertigo. Everything that he’d lost at the orders of the Count then returned to Oliver, and his conditioning began to peel away. He felt the pain of loss, and the shame at the blood his own hands had split. It took weeks for him to swallow all his tears and in the end he became obsessed with turning the wretched, city-wide collapse around. Abandoning the Shadows and everything he knew Oliver Queen fled back to Star and began preparing for a war retake the fallen city from the monsters who ruled it from the highest towers, and lowest slums. He would take on a new identity, one he remembered hearing stories of while being tucked into bed by his mother and father. He would become the Hooded Archer, the Prince of Tricks, The Green Arrow.

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:

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The idea behind this version of Green Arrow is to have Oliver Queen set within a hostile city that has forgotten the billionaire, and sees only the renegade outlaw fighting against the foul disease that has infected his home. Without a multi-national billion dollar corporation supporting his vigilantism, Queen will be forced to rely more on his wits and guile than fancy arrows and knock-off Batman gadgets. Battling gangsters, corrupt police, white collar criminals, and Shadows all with a giddy laugh and yet another trick up his sleeve, this is the Robin Hood-esque figure I'm interested in writing about.

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

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Supporting Cast

William Harper - William is a Park Ranger living in the Graylord State forest with his son Roy, and his wife Maria, only a few miles from Star City. He is sympathetic to Oliver's mission, thanks to a mutual connection through Robert Queen. He provides shelter, medical aid, and sanctuary for Oliver in his times of need.

Roy Harper - Roy is the son of a pair of Park Rangers living in the forest reserve north of Star City, near the US Canadian border. He's a rambunctious kid, often getting into trouble and pushing the limits of his parent's patience. His act first think later attitude tends to get him into tight spots, but he's usually quick enough on his feet to keep from getting hurt.

Dinah Lance - Left blank for now in case anyone wants to play as Black Canary.

Jean Loring - Former attorney for the Queen Family, and the only remaining connection to Oliver's past, she is the first person Oliver goes to for help. While Oliver takes on the combative front in the war to save Star City, Jean Loring begins preparing the legal battle necessary to take Queen Industries back from its illegitimate owner, Malcolm Merlyn.

Thomas Merlyn - Former friends, Oliver and Tommy grew up together under the Shadow of the Assassins, training and serving at the whim of the Demon's Head. Tommy, as he is called by Oliver has become the feared Dark Archer, an expert killer and radical follower of the League of Shadows. He is known for never failing in his duty, and eliminating targets with extreme prejudiced.

Count Werner Vertigo - The puppet master behind Star City's collapse and the grisly demise of all his political rivals aboard the Queen family's yacht nearly a decade ago. Now the Count lives in the shadows of Star City, gathering his strength and wealth for his triumphant return to Vlatava, his home country.

Malcolm Merlyn - Owner and CEO of Queen Industries, he is the only large scale businessman who actually thrives in Star City's current political environment, through suspected illicit means. He gained the top spot at Queen Industries after the tragic demise of his brother, and his brother's business partner, former owner Robert Queen. Through some uncertain means he stepped up, and was put into position by the board of directors and has been running Queen Industries ever since.

Danial Brickworth - A mutant mobster, "Danny" is a giant of a man covered in red-hinted, hardened growths making him immune to most projectiles and blunt force weaponry. He is immensely powerful possessing low level super strength, and worst of all a brilliant mind for villainy and crime. He's a hands on, do it your selfer who isn't afraid to get a little blood on his hands. On top of being an extremely dangerous mobster, he is the undisputed supreme ruler of the Star City underworld.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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For Were Sir Guy and Sir Robin to Meet Again Blood Shall Surely Follow

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Guessing at Adrian Guberschans rise to power in the outer Vannels Area would have been a feat of impressive divination. Nobody would have looked at the skinny thirteen year old boy he’d once been, sporting a bloody nose and mismatched socks, and still somehow determined he would turn into the proud and ruthless mob boss that ran everything from Third to the Forty-fifth with an iron fist and a glob of tobacco spit. All for his superiors in Brioni leather blacks back up in city hall. He was the middleman, the collector, the go getter, and ever since the police department had been told to turn a blind eye to his exploits, he’d been the terror of Vannel and the wider industrial zone. And as it happened a prime target for the masked and hooded vigilante concealed amongst the deepest shadows.

It was well known that Adrian had it good with some serious higher ups, a direct line and the personal number to the next league of mob bosses in Star City which made him dangerous to mess with, besides the practical heat packing goons he surrounded himself with. Oliver could count four men not including Adrian, the obvious bulges in their basketball shorts denoting concealed firearms as they lugged the last of their nightly ill-gotten earnings into the back of a blacked-out SUV. Wood and leather hissed as Oliver lade shaft to string, adjusting his stance under the cover of a frigid midnight breeze.

Invisible.

Silent.

Deadly.

“You are not where you’re supposed to be.”

Oliver Queen’s arrow flew true, thudding deep into the wrist of the nearest thug, forcing the man to his knees, a gut-wrenching cry escaping his lips. Shouts rang out, men drew steel, loading lead and powder as they searched for the unseen archer. Oliver ignored them. Spinning about he readied a second projectile a mere heartbeat after the voice sounded behind him, drawing to his ear as he prepared to fight for his very life. A man capable of sneaking up on him would prove a dangerous foe, one worthy of his fullest attention. A twitch in the shadows was all he needed to sight in and let fly. The arrow buzzed its deathtune but just before it stuck a hand moved to intercept knocking the shaft away. Before Oliver could dispatch another attempt the man slid into the thin moonlight, drawing back his hood to reveal a weatherworn face, shrouded in an assassin’s black. Oliver stayed his hand, an easy smile emerging from beneath his green hood. The face was concealed, but for Oliver there was no denying who breathed beneath the mask.

“Tommy Merlyn? Hell’s teeth you near scared me half to death. I could have killed you.” Oliver’s infectious smile did not sway the dark garbed marksman however, and he repeated his accusation in no uncertain terms.

“You are not where you are meant to be Oliver Queen.”

Oliver’s grin faded, and he lowered his bow, releasing a frustrated sigh. Of all the people they could have sent after him… The League knew him too well, and they deemed it necessary to make things difficult for their wayward assassin. They could not understand his needs, and where flat refusal might work on any other agent, Tommy was nearly as stubborn as himself, and more devoted to the cult than life itself. Nevertheless, Oliver squared his shoulders, he was resolute, his mind was made up, and he would not go back come hell or high water. They would never understand his reasons, but Tommy, Tommy might. “Help me finish here Tommy.” He pleaded, giving his old friend a full blast of his natural charm. “For old time sakes, and then I’d like to show you something, really important to me. Then we’ll talk, alright?”

At first Oliver worried Tommy would refuse and force to point then and there on that dark roof, but he wavered and broke at last, shaking his head with an irritated snort. “Fine but make it quick. What is this about anyway?”

“Tax collection.” Oliver replied cheerily as he returned his attention to Adrian and his three remaining functional goons, and the fourth who’d passed out from the pain. They’d attempted making a break for the hills in the half-loaded SUV, but four previously thrown darts had already completed their work in transforming the sleek vehicle into a particularly heavy street ornament. “Fighting a one-man war isn’t cheap you know, and if anyone should use that funding they so boldly collected from the local drug and prostitution rings I’d rather it was me than some pinstriped count.”

“They got all that from drugs and prostitution?” Merlyn inquired, his voice once again accusatory as he knelt beside Oliver on the snow blanketed eaves, his bow in hand and an arrow on the string.

Oliver flinched, he shouldn’t try to lie to Tommy, even in a casual way, the man was far too sharp for that. “Well, no. They gather protection money from local businesses too.” He shook his finger under Tommy’s nose disturbing the black shroud. “How about we ask them how much they took from the locals to return it to them; would that make you feel better?”

Tommy’s frown deepened. “This is not what you should be justifying to me Ollie.”

“Right,” Oliver coughed, shifting uncomfortable under Tommy’s resolute glare. “Well then let’s disarm them, try not to miss and make them bleed though. I’ve been studying them for a while now, and I only incapacitated that first one because he was the most dangerous. Competent with a pistol, or at least he knew how to hold it properly. The others... Not so much, besides I require them for manual labor.”

“You know I don’t miss.” Tommy growled, and sure enough in the space of a heartbeat four arrows flew from two bows disarming the remaining gangsters, leaving them rubbing their stinging fingers and howling for all they were worth. The citizens of the Vannels knew better than to concern themselves with the near constant gang warfare that went on in the rundown suburbs, they merely turned up the music or white noise and pretended the cries of pain did not exist.

Oliver dropped from his post upon the roof like a green wraith, his shadow following close behind as they approached the shocked Adrian. He was a large man, having lost his skinny look fifteen years prior, he possessed an array of impressive muscles and stood almost a full head taller than Oliver. Seeing the olive clad archer approach Adrian snorted derisively, thinking he might demonstrate what a few rounds of steroids were capable of and down the lithe hooded man and end this outrage once and for all. He did not account for the speed and skill of the man who now faced him, and for his valiant efforts Adrian received nothing more than a bloody nose and a world that seemed to spin as he dropped to his knees, groaning in pain.

“Oh, shush now you’ll be alright, you just shouldn’t have tried a left hook, I’m particularly good at parrying those. Isn’t that right Dark?”

If Tommy was displeased at the use of his operational code name, he did not show it, merely inclining his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of Oliver’s claim. Oliver shrugged giving the gang leader a friendly pat on his back. “He doesn’t talk much on missions, so don’t mind him. Say, you look mighty clever, maybe you could help me out. You see, I seem to have misplaced my pocket change, have you by any chance seen a few thousand dollars lying around?”

Adrian blanched, dabbing pitifully at his bleeding nose. “W-w-what? Who are you, you bastard?”

“Oh, you know, Arrow, Green, The. Whatever order you’d prefer really old chum. I don’t mind. Anyway, have you seen that cash? I’d appreciate your help.”

“No,” Adrian was nearly crying at this point and he looked to his remaining men who had wised up after seeing their leader so efficiently defeated and were not moving a muscle under the watchful gaze of the Dark Archer. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about you maniac!”

“Hm, that’s too bad. Hey, wait, look at that.” Oliver stood up and walked over to the SUV, throwing wide the rear doors with a triumphant grin. “You did find it, thank you Adrian! I knew I could count on you, you’re the best. You know what, since you’re being such a good friend would you mind loading it up in my car for me.” Oliver flicked his wrist and a short double beep sounded and the lights to an expensive green sports car flashed on, revealing itself where once it was concealed in shadow. Oliver nearly collapsed laughing as Adrian’s face paled, first in shock then outrage as he recognized the Michigan plates.

“Hey, that’s my new car!”

“Load her up boys,” Oliver laughed, and then his joviality vanished, his final word freezing the blood in Adrian and his men’s veins as he stepped upon the ruined wrist of the unconscious man, ripping the arrow out in one vicious twist and laying the gory shaft upon his bowstring with a sinister sneer. “Please.”

The next half hour saw Oliver and Tommy speeding away in the commandeered sports car, leaving the four men zip-tied hand and foot to a broken streetlamp for the proper authorities to handle. More than likely they would be released under the corrupted police force, or merely freed by a fellow gang member who stumbled upon them. Either way the message was sent, and it would be heard by every upper white-collar criminal and mob boss Adrian could contact once he found a phone. The Green Arrow would be a known entity before morning, but an underestimated one, Adrian’s pride would ensure that.

The two friends were silent as Oliver guided the car out of the City leaving the run-down buildings and near third world hovels its remaining citizens survived in behind. Star City, Oliver remembered it being the pinnacle of American industrial and economic might, now reduced to a pathetic shadow of its former self after years of corruption and vitriolic politics. Oliver’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel merely thinking about it. His city he would claim, and yet he’d spent almost half life away from it, abandoning his home to its undeserved fate. Never again.

At long last the winding highway shifted into a gravel driveway and Oliver pulled to a stop outside an abandoned mansion. For a place that had been empty for nearly a decade it was in surprisingly decent condition. The paint was peeling, the lawn was well overgrown, and a few windows were shattered, but otherwise it proudly stood as it always had, a vain monument to the Queen family’s vast wealth and power.

“Welcome to my home.” Oliver said, a tad bitterly. “Actually, I’m technically a squatter as my father’s will was no doubt lost after the apparent death of the entire Queen family, its probably owned by some bankrupt real estate firm or something now. Either way its supposed to be mine so I’ve claimed it. Might as well, there was only rats living here since.”

“We gave up the personal and forsook our inheritance!” Tommy’s vitriolic response caused Oliver to cringe, despite having known the argument was imminent. “Your home is the League, your family is the League, you are the League’s! Ollie what have you done?”

“I gave it up.” Oliver kept his voice level, but his hand shook as he stood his ground, defending his decision to abandon the only family he’d known since the age of eleven. “Don’t you see what they’ve done to us Tommy? We were too young to realize it then, but they killed our family, our real family. Because of the League I don’t even remember what my mother looks like, and yet they expect us to serve them blindly? I won’t do it anymore Tommy, I won’t kill anymore, I want nothing to do with the Demon’s Head or any of it ever again. I know its unprecedented, I know its never been done before, but I quit the League of Shadows, and I’m never going back. This is my home, and the man who hired the League is still here dancing amongst the ashes of Star, reveling in his victory over my father. But I’m not my father, and I play by a different set of rules.”

“…You can’t quit the League of Shadows Ollie.”

“I can, and I did.”

A silent battle of wills took place on that dark driveway, the two stubborn friends held each other’s gazes, refusing to look away. For how long they remained that way, locked in silent mental warfare Oliver could not say. At last Tommy conceded defeat, looking away with a frustrated grunt. Oliver had won this battle, an important one but would it be the last?

“I’ll have to tell the Demon’s Head, everything.”

“I know, I’m sorry it came to this, but I've made my decision. Call it revenge, call it justice, call it whatever you like, this city is my responsibility now. I can’t leave again, if I don’t fight, I don’t think anyone else will.” Oliver’s heart went out to his childhood friend. They’d been together through thick and thin, since that first terrible day, through the years of brain washing and grueling training, past their first kills and to this very night that they would have to part ways, ideological opposites. He was putting Tommy in a difficult spot, and Tommy by taking the time to personally report to the Demon’s Head was giving him a chance to prepare.

“I only hope, for both our sakes.” Tommy said at last, stepping out of the car, clearly preparing for the long walk back into the city. “That we never meet again. Farewell Oliver Queen. And good luck.”

“Goodbye Tommy.” Oliver choked out as his lifelong friend vanished into that cold winter night.

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

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Open For Editing

Absolute Comics - Justice Rising

I wish to present my definitely not a joke character concept...

All Stand For...

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

S U P E R D O G

^{_{KRYPTO ♦ SUPERMAN'S BESTEST FRIEND ♦ METROPOLIS ♦ SUPERFAM}}

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

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"Ruff"

When the cracks began to form on Krypton Jor-El knew time was short. He needed a place to send his only son Kal-El, and a means of knowing whether his desperate bid for Krypton’s hope would succeed. There was only one devastating, yet logical solution. The family dog, loyal and steadfast was launched from a dying planet months before his infant charge would follow, paving the way for the baby boy whose life signified so much. The hound’s true purpose was lost with Krypton, but his rocket crash into the Atlantic Ocean seven months before Kal-El’s fateful arrival, provided vital data for the location of the North American continent, thus allowing the infant hero’s safe landing in Smallville, Kansas.

This final act of loyalty should have been the end of the brave pup who would have perished in a fiery crash upon the ocean surface as he sank beneath the surface, never to been seen again. That was until fisher and seafood joint owner Bibbo Bibbowski stumbled upon the algae swathed spacecraft while crabbing in the Atlantic. Bibbo who had the good sense to keep his discovery to himself, opened the still functioning stasis pod to reveal a living hound, white in color and happy to be awakened at last. Although Krypto loved Bibbo for saving him after a monthlong recovery he was compelled to lick the good man’s hands goodbye and depart upon an incredible journey to track down his master. Upon earth he was granted a unique set of abilities by the yellow star to assist him on his quest, and before long government agencies were following the reports of a mysterious “Super Dog”, who’d already saved several lives in acts of incredible intelligence, understanding, and strength that left bystanders baffled and amazed. Although Krypto loves helping people, he has another goal, one he was given by Jor-El when he embarked upon his maiden voyage across the stars. Find and protect Kal-El, his beloved master!

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:

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Krypto is an integral part of the Super Family, and as such he will be vital in the story of Clark Kent or any of the other Superman pantheon members, once he tracks them down of course. Besides, his unique doggy perspective will be an interesting challenge to write, and he’ll be a fun addition to the cast.

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

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Supporting Cast

Bibbo Bibbowski – A fisherman living on the outskirts of Metropolis city and an avid Superman fan he rescued and kept Krypto at his home along the wharf while the dog recovered from his long stasis beneath the ocean. He thought he might keep Krypto indefinitely, however the dog had to depart to find his true master. Now Bibbo follows his exploits in the news, whenever it appears. He still hosts the dog on occasion giving him a place to sleep by the fire, and he leaves a bowl of kibbles out every night just in case he comes by and is feeling hungry.

Clark Kent – A figure remembered as Kal-El in Krypto’s memory. The final command by his master Jor-El was to find and protect his son once he landed. Krypto is desperate to locate his new master and fulfill his duty as any loyal dog would, but all he has is a vague outdated scent to lead him in the right direction.

Agent Jackson J. Mauler aka Poundmaster – With wild reports of a super powered K-9 the government had to step in, thus Agent Mauler was deployed to investigate these occurrences and determine what actions should be taken. As a member of the Mutated Animal Investigative Department, or M.A.I.D. He is an expert on animal mutations, and the containment and elimination of dangerous creatures within the animal kingdom. Of course Krypton’s near human intellect, and super powered physiology makes him especially difficult to find, much less study.

Lex Luther – Anything Superman related is of keen interest to the man, and as such he has his suspicions about the very superman-like dog that has been preforming small time acts of heroism near Metropolis. Like the government Luther has deployed his own resources intent on finding out more about this anomaly.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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Soon

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

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Open for Editing