Cyberlad
Qia
Half Pint
Festive
mickilennial
AndyC
Sep
Roman
Rockette
Lord WraithC H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
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D U C H A M P : M A N T L E O F
T H E M O O N ' S K N I G H T
T H E M O O N ' S K N I G H T
J E A N - P A U L D U C H A M P ♦ R E S T A U R A T E U R
♦ N E W Y O R K ♦ U N A F F I L I A T E D / F O R M E R L Y L . E & D . G . S . E
♦ N E W Y O R K ♦ U N A F F I L I A T E D / F O R M E R L Y L . E & D . G . S . E
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Marc told me death was boring. The man had no taste, but in this case I'll trust his review."
Jean-Paul DuChamp joined the French Foreign Legion as part of the 2nd Foreign Parachute Regiment as a sniper, rising to the Section de Tireurs d'Elite (STE). He found himself having a whirlwind romance, first with a young pilot named Phillippe, actually on loan with the 62nd Air Force Escadre for Helicopters with no transport escadre pilots available to spare, and then with the nature of flight itself, where Duchamp discovered that his steady hands worked just as well behind the helm as they did behind a rifle and that he far preferred flying aircraft than jumping out of them.
Over the following months he was able to log enough hours to get his pilot's licenses both in standard fixed wing aircraft and helicopters, in addition to his other intense training. It was a labour of love.
Phillippe would be recalled back to active duty and Jean-Paul would never speak to him again. He would receive only a package with his Air Force pilot's cap, and a letter explaining that his family would never understand their love.
His unique set of combined skills saw him fall into the interest of the DGSE, who had been called upon to provide EXFILT for an allied mission in South America. In preperation he was taught a number of espionage and counter-espionage techniques.
The mission saw the extraction of one Raoul Bushman, a hyper-violent mercenary from the African nation of Burundi who was being used to foment dissent and train locals against a dictator against Western interests. The mission was written off when Bushman went AWOL, tiring of training villagers and assassinated and decapitated the dictator himself, his head found prominently mounted on a flagpole. Orders were to remove Bushman and sever all potential involvement. This could be done more easily with a bullet, but instead with the aid of a former U.S Marine with C.I.A ties by the name of Marc Spector, the pair was able to remove Bushman from the field with minimal bloodshed.
The pair would soon find the bullet would have been simpler and better all around.
Bushman had a line on a revenue-stream robbing, pillaging and "offering protection" to local archaeologists, Western journalists and aid workers out-of-their-depth in Southern Egypt and Northern Sudan. Wanting to pay the pair back, and always looking for able bodied warriors, he invited them to tag along and take a cut of this month's take.
This once again went FUBAR when Raoul Bushman once again showed his barely controlled violent streak. He murdered archaeologist Dr Peter Alraune which immediately soured the mood. Duchamp and Spector could not abide the unnecesary murder, Spector confronted Bushman only to get himself stabbed, Duchamp fled as did the daughter of Dr Alraune, Marlene.
What happened next is not entirely clear. Spector himself claimed that he died, and was restored by the Ancient Egyptian god Khonshu - claiming that he did so to make him the Moon's newest avatar of vengeance.
Marlene claimed she found him at the foot of the statue shrouded in a white cloth of some kind which seemed to have aided in clotting his most severe wound, and that he'd lost quite a lot of blood.
Regardless of what really happened then and there, Spector claimed he had found new purpose, the three returned back to his American home to find that the mercenary life had agreed with Marc. He had amassed great wealth, and requested that Jean-Paul fly for him. Like Noah, he spoke of his God asking him to create a great vessel which would carry the pair of them.
Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was infatuation... but Jean-Paul did just that. And Marc Spector would indeed become the Moon's Knight. A violent force of nature, dispatching vengeance on behalf of a beaming god, to protect those who would travel by night.
Over time Jean-Paul would find himself deeper in the darkness and madness. With his own heritage and ancestry as the "Bloodline" of the Knight's Templar, and attached his own responsibility to beating back the types of darkness they would face.
And one by one... strange foes would descend upon them from that darkness and fall. The Black Spectre, Morpheus the demon of dream, even Raoul Bushman would come back into their lives.
And all would crumble, all would fall. For who could stand against a god and a true believer?
The answer would come six years later. Another god, another true believer.
A brutish figure wearing a goat-like war mask, representing his South American god Hachezma, brutalised and murdered Marc Spector with an axe.
And just like that, the edifice fell. Jean-Paul, Marlene, Crawley, would drift apart on the winds. Until the will reading of Steven Grant would once again bind them.
Another package from a loved one who he would never speak to again.
A mask, a handgun, a truncheon and the unblemished C.I.A file of Jean-Paul Duchamp. Unredacted meant Marc had done legwork and unearthed it himself, rather than requested it by regular channels.
With it, 'Frenchie' saw how their lives intertwined, their missions one. And Jean-Paul Duchamp would don the mask, the cowl, the vestments of Khonshu's Moon Knight, even if it were for his own reasons.
The Moon's Knight is back at work, once more.
At this point, the Moon Knight has been public knowledge for a half dozen years, even if they don't know who is behind the cowl.
Jean-Paul DuChamp is using the mantle for his own purposes, to target dark and demonic forces known as the Hellbent, monsters on earth that he's seen with increasing prevalance over the past two or three years. He also fights street level crime, as it appears, but it's not his primary purpose.
Jean-Paul DuChamp has never seen nor spoken to Khonshu, the god Marc Spector believed drove him to his calling and whose bidding he felt he was doing.
Marc Spector is dead... but he's died before.
Other backstory/origin details will be added here as revealed.
Over the following months he was able to log enough hours to get his pilot's licenses both in standard fixed wing aircraft and helicopters, in addition to his other intense training. It was a labour of love.
Phillippe would be recalled back to active duty and Jean-Paul would never speak to him again. He would receive only a package with his Air Force pilot's cap, and a letter explaining that his family would never understand their love.
His unique set of combined skills saw him fall into the interest of the DGSE, who had been called upon to provide EXFILT for an allied mission in South America. In preperation he was taught a number of espionage and counter-espionage techniques.
The mission saw the extraction of one Raoul Bushman, a hyper-violent mercenary from the African nation of Burundi who was being used to foment dissent and train locals against a dictator against Western interests. The mission was written off when Bushman went AWOL, tiring of training villagers and assassinated and decapitated the dictator himself, his head found prominently mounted on a flagpole. Orders were to remove Bushman and sever all potential involvement. This could be done more easily with a bullet, but instead with the aid of a former U.S Marine with C.I.A ties by the name of Marc Spector, the pair was able to remove Bushman from the field with minimal bloodshed.
The pair would soon find the bullet would have been simpler and better all around.
Bushman had a line on a revenue-stream robbing, pillaging and "offering protection" to local archaeologists, Western journalists and aid workers out-of-their-depth in Southern Egypt and Northern Sudan. Wanting to pay the pair back, and always looking for able bodied warriors, he invited them to tag along and take a cut of this month's take.
This once again went FUBAR when Raoul Bushman once again showed his barely controlled violent streak. He murdered archaeologist Dr Peter Alraune which immediately soured the mood. Duchamp and Spector could not abide the unnecesary murder, Spector confronted Bushman only to get himself stabbed, Duchamp fled as did the daughter of Dr Alraune, Marlene.
What happened next is not entirely clear. Spector himself claimed that he died, and was restored by the Ancient Egyptian god Khonshu - claiming that he did so to make him the Moon's newest avatar of vengeance.
Marlene claimed she found him at the foot of the statue shrouded in a white cloth of some kind which seemed to have aided in clotting his most severe wound, and that he'd lost quite a lot of blood.
Regardless of what really happened then and there, Spector claimed he had found new purpose, the three returned back to his American home to find that the mercenary life had agreed with Marc. He had amassed great wealth, and requested that Jean-Paul fly for him. Like Noah, he spoke of his God asking him to create a great vessel which would carry the pair of them.
Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was infatuation... but Jean-Paul did just that. And Marc Spector would indeed become the Moon's Knight. A violent force of nature, dispatching vengeance on behalf of a beaming god, to protect those who would travel by night.
Over time Jean-Paul would find himself deeper in the darkness and madness. With his own heritage and ancestry as the "Bloodline" of the Knight's Templar, and attached his own responsibility to beating back the types of darkness they would face.
And one by one... strange foes would descend upon them from that darkness and fall. The Black Spectre, Morpheus the demon of dream, even Raoul Bushman would come back into their lives.
And all would crumble, all would fall. For who could stand against a god and a true believer?
The answer would come six years later. Another god, another true believer.
A brutish figure wearing a goat-like war mask, representing his South American god Hachezma, brutalised and murdered Marc Spector with an axe.
And just like that, the edifice fell. Jean-Paul, Marlene, Crawley, would drift apart on the winds. Until the will reading of Steven Grant would once again bind them.
Another package from a loved one who he would never speak to again.
A mask, a handgun, a truncheon and the unblemished C.I.A file of Jean-Paul Duchamp. Unredacted meant Marc had done legwork and unearthed it himself, rather than requested it by regular channels.
With it, 'Frenchie' saw how their lives intertwined, their missions one. And Jean-Paul Duchamp would don the mask, the cowl, the vestments of Khonshu's Moon Knight, even if it were for his own reasons.
The Moon's Knight is back at work, once more.
At this point, the Moon Knight has been public knowledge for a half dozen years, even if they don't know who is behind the cowl.
Jean-Paul DuChamp is using the mantle for his own purposes, to target dark and demonic forces known as the Hellbent, monsters on earth that he's seen with increasing prevalance over the past two or three years. He also fights street level crime, as it appears, but it's not his primary purpose.
Jean-Paul DuChamp has never seen nor spoken to Khonshu, the god Marc Spector believed drove him to his calling and whose bidding he felt he was doing.
Marc Spector is dead... but he's died before.
Other backstory/origin details will be added here as revealed.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Skills and powers:
* Expert Pilot
* Elite level marksman/sniper
* Trained in hand-to-hand combat
* Trained Paratrooper
* Trained in Espionage/Counter-espionage techniques
* Expert wine connoisseur
* Capable of seeing the Hellbent - Dark forces unleashed upon our world
* Is of "The Bloodline" from the Knights Templar. Once honed it would enable him to fully take the form of any of his ancestors in their ancient unending task of eliminating the Hellbent. Presently, it takes great focus for him to merely access their memories, knowledge and on very rare occasions, skills.
NPCs:
* Marlene Alraune - A friend. Former lover of Marc/Steven's.
* Bertrand Crawley - A friend of Marc's Jake Lockley persona. Somewhat mysterious homeless man of New York's streets. Keeps contact with Duchamp mainly out of connection to his friend and the legacy of the Moon Knight.
* Rob Silverman - Jean-Paul's lover. Physical therapist and business partner in their restaurant.
* Gina - Diner operator, who owns and works at the diner that Crawley frequents. Well aware of the exploits of the Moon Knight, and tries to keep her two kids out of that nonsense.
* Numerous villains who'll be added as revealed.
* Expert Pilot
* Elite level marksman/sniper
* Trained in hand-to-hand combat
* Trained Paratrooper
* Trained in Espionage/Counter-espionage techniques
* Expert wine connoisseur
* Capable of seeing the Hellbent - Dark forces unleashed upon our world
* Is of "The Bloodline" from the Knights Templar. Once honed it would enable him to fully take the form of any of his ancestors in their ancient unending task of eliminating the Hellbent. Presently, it takes great focus for him to merely access their memories, knowledge and on very rare occasions, skills.
NPCs:
* Marlene Alraune - A friend. Former lover of Marc/Steven's.
* Bertrand Crawley - A friend of Marc's Jake Lockley persona. Somewhat mysterious homeless man of New York's streets. Keeps contact with Duchamp mainly out of connection to his friend and the legacy of the Moon Knight.
* Rob Silverman - Jean-Paul's lover. Physical therapist and business partner in their restaurant.
* Gina - Diner operator, who owns and works at the diner that Crawley frequents. Well aware of the exploits of the Moon Knight, and tries to keep her two kids out of that nonsense.
* Numerous villains who'll be added as revealed.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Heels clack up the stairs to the 215th Street Station.
Linda's friends had long been telling her they couldn't believe she still took the subway at nights. "It's out in the open. It's well lit." She would reply, about the least used station in Manhattan.
Tonight, as her fingers curled around the keys in her purse, she began to have second and third thoughts on the matter.
Lights flicker and she felt a harsh wind coursing northbound, but there was no train there yet.
She felt... a presence.
In no particular sequence, the lights flickered and failed. The station gave way to the night.
Linda's breath quickened, as she desperately tried to adjust her vision to what light there was. Light cast by the full moon, standing vigil overhead.
Then, a streak of movement. A flash of silver darted across in front of her and dove, tumbling down across the subway tracks, with a thud that suggested more weight than merely a person. With a small gasp, she edged slowly across the line to peek down at the commotion on the tracks below. A white figure was throwing repeated heavy blows with some kind of silver club, before raising its head, and firing a line from somewhere within the metal club device and quickly grappling away. The subway came barrelling through and she heard a blood curdling shriek, as if from something unhuman, and a splatter of viscous liquid across the front of the train, before she stepped back away from the tracks.
She looked the silver figure but it was gone. The open subway carriage standing in brightly lit mundanity to the scene that just took place in front of her.
She quickly got onto the carriage and found herself a quiet spot to sit and contemplate everything t
she'd just seen, or thought she'd seen.
Linda's friends had long been telling her they couldn't believe she still took the subway at nights. "It's out in the open. It's well lit." She would reply, about the least used station in Manhattan.
Tonight, as her fingers curled around the keys in her purse, she began to have second and third thoughts on the matter.
Lights flicker and she felt a harsh wind coursing northbound, but there was no train there yet.
She felt... a presence.
In no particular sequence, the lights flickered and failed. The station gave way to the night.
Linda's breath quickened, as she desperately tried to adjust her vision to what light there was. Light cast by the full moon, standing vigil overhead.
Then, a streak of movement. A flash of silver darted across in front of her and dove, tumbling down across the subway tracks, with a thud that suggested more weight than merely a person. With a small gasp, she edged slowly across the line to peek down at the commotion on the tracks below. A white figure was throwing repeated heavy blows with some kind of silver club, before raising its head, and firing a line from somewhere within the metal club device and quickly grappling away. The subway came barrelling through and she heard a blood curdling shriek, as if from something unhuman, and a splatter of viscous liquid across the front of the train, before she stepped back away from the tracks.
She looked the silver figure but it was gone. The open subway carriage standing in brightly lit mundanity to the scene that just took place in front of her.
She quickly got onto the carriage and found herself a quiet spot to sit and contemplate everything t
she'd just seen, or thought she'd seen.
P O S T C A T A L O G:
Pending.
