Lewascan2

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

B O N E S A W

Location(s): Paradox Engine, Simulated Universe #1 (Open Fields, Current Simulation: Unknown)
Mentions: Driscoll @Mintz, Cyrus @Randomness, Shadow Moth @TruthHurts22, Poison Ivy @Crimson Flame, Ganon @ActRaiserTheReturned, and Horus @Dead Cruiser.

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Bonesaw's cherubic smile widened fractionally, as she finished her inventory check and set to observing the potential competition in this little pow-wow.

First came the man with greying hair, the old-timer looking like he hadn't smiled in years, but Bonesaw knew she could fix that up right-quick with a little song and some elbow grease. "Love bug, love hug~," she sing-songed the tune of her favorite show, giggling under her breath. A moment later, her baby-blue eyes snapped to the immediately brandished Tinkertech ball that made her head buzz with excitement. The activation got her attention even more, as some form of spacial or dimensional manipulation was put on display... before the creature that came out of it almost stole her breath away.

A horned devil in the shape of a dog, or was it the reverse? Either way, it was only the little blonde's manual control of her facial muscles that prevented the longing from shining through her gaze. Ash-black fur accompanied a spaded tail (she squealed internally) alongside a fiery-orange snout and underbelly. Bones or some other manner of calcium formation protruded prominently in a protective manner around the ankles and along the spine. Even from here, she could feel warm air drifting over, the air subtly distorting from the heat in a manner only those with enhanced vision might pick up this close. Drifting on that breeze also, her enhanced olfactory facilities detected a pungent scent, familiar and different all the same, the acrid scent of poison. It was... It's... just...

So cute I could chop it right up~! The little blonde's eyes glimmered with interest, as she reluctantly tore her gaze away from the perfect little death puppy mascot she'd never known she wanted till she'd seen it. Her attention instead shifted to the funny man in the snappy suit, who looked one step away from going full Bond-villain.

His self-directed monologuing did little to dispel that image, and Bonesaw giggled at the adorable amount of fluster on display, the man clearly out of his element. A little thrill of additional amusement ran through her, as the silly little man finally realized he wasn't alone and tried to regather some semblance of his tattered composure and reputation. Baby-blue eyes flickering around towards her fellow abductees, Bonesaw grinned at the seemingly prevailing sentiment of bemusement and dismissal. For her part, she wasn't about to underestimate him so quickly. Silly and simple costumes were often silly because the person wearing them was powerful enough to get away with it.

Case and point, Bonesaw, herself, who to any unsuspecting victim might as well be a cherubic little personification of Alice from Wonderland. Her neat little apron, darling blue dress and immaculate golden curls belied the devilish creature wearing them. Jack Slash went around using a silly name because he thought it would be funny to make people fear something so benign, all while wearing simple pants and dress shirts, like your everyday working father out for a stroll with his darling daughter... her!

Point being: she'd keep a stern eye out for opportunities here! Jack had taught her well, and if Suit Guy got ostracized by the others, well... Surely, he wouldn't mind a little company now and again... and a couple innocent questions. People like him sure liked to complain a lot, and it sounded like he had some interesting stories to tell... what with apparent time travel and all... In fact, at his question, she decided she might as well start now! Rocking on her heels playfully with her hands clasped behind her back, Bonesaw cooed out in her girlish, high voice, "Nnnope~! Well~, there was this silly lady with a fedora that I might have got on the bad side of..." She pondering in half-serious thought. "She wore a real nice suit too! Oh, not as nice as yours, Mister Suit Man, but it didn't look cheap!" she chirped.

"Hmmm?" The little girl's ears twitched at a familiar whine of protesting motors, as the armored Tinker finally straightened up to his full height. There was a rumble as an even bigger Tinker appeared some ways behind the first, but he wasn't her focus presently. Ever the opportunist, Bonesaw's baby-blue eyes briefly zeroed-in on the burn damage and a very distinctive crack across the otherwise unscathed helmet of the first Tinker's gunmetal-grey suit, a spot of damage she'd been unable to glimpse before he'd turned fully to glance over the rest of them. She grinned widely and waved. It seemed if it came down to it that her poison clouds were back on the menu!

The smaller Tinker dusted himself off then and then began rallying the troops! As she listened to him talk, Bonesaw's grin only continued to widen. That sly dog! First, he claimed kinship with their troubles, which even seemed true! Then, he made a neat but obvious observation that made him look more composed and attempted to subtly sever them all from their prior goals and ties, priming the table for an initial leadership play... which he took! His suggestion to introduce themselves was the first step. On one level, it might seem like just good manners that a Good Girl like her could always appreciate, but to the savvy, it also established him as the one leading the charge. And anyone who complied was following his suggestion and one step down from following another... and another... and then one more... and then all of them to come~! Oh, and then that stern little "Sir" and bow at the end was just a delight; he was goooood~!

Some people, however, were much less polite! And both of them were gingers! Coincidence? Bonesaw thought not! All things considered seriously, they might have arrived too late to hear Mr. Driscoll's wonderful speech, but there was such a thing as basic manners! The pretty green lady was ignoring them altogether, but her abrupt display of chlorokinesis...? Oh, that was just fascinating enough for Bonesaw to forgive her the slight for now. On the other hand, however, there was the big man with the sword! So rude!

"Hey!" Bonesaw piped up sharply, hands on her hips and a small indignant frown on her lips for once. "Don't swear, Mister! That's quite unnecessary!" She puffed out her cheeks, prepared to give him a proper what-for, when she felt a series of vibrations rumble through her feet.

Turning her attention away from the Rude Hairy Man, Bonesaw blinked owlishly at the titanic armored Tinker finally plodding his way over, his every footstep laying waste to the greenery that opposed it. To her discerning eye, his armor, gothic and bulky as it was, almost seemed overengineered, such was its size! Then again, unless she got around to digging inside it, she perhaps could better assume for her peace of mind that most of that bulk was actually protective and not the machinery required to move it, which would theoretically somewhat compensate for the size and unwieldiness of the whole thing. On a lesser but still important note, Bonesaw couldn't help but appreciate the lingering splatter of gore from the blood of this person's enemies that still littered the suit's frame, as his unclawed appendage rose to remove his helmet, revealing a fair poker face. The voice that issued forth from the man was delightfully fitting for a being his size, the kind she could practically feel rumbling in her chest, as he made some interesting claims. Only time would tell if that boasting would hold up, she decided, nodding amiably. "Wonderful to meet you, Mister Lupercal!" she chirped, almost feeling like she had to speak louder to reach the big guy properly! "Sorry to say, I don't have an answer for you!" She pouted briefly, putting her hands on her hips. "The meanies dumped me here while I was sleeping! Imagine that! Does it get any ruder?"

The Snazzy Suit Man finally spoke up again, introducing himself as just Shadow Moth, which looked like it meant he was actually intending to try and keep his secret identity intact during this whole shindig! Bonesaw's cheeks were practically hurting from how hard she was smiling at his naivete. So cute! So nervous~! She giggled aloud at his talk of illusions however, before politely clearing her throat. "Don't worry about this being a trick, Mister Shadow Moth! If there were any mind control going on, my berserker mode would be going off, and I promise we'd all have much worse things to worry about." Honestly, how polite could he be, giving her the perfect segue to mention one of her most important defenses? Normally, it was the sort of thing that one should keep as a trump card, but she didn't particularly want to kill anyone here yet, except for that Cursing Redhead. The last thing any of them needed was her berserker mode dropping plagues and poisons on everyone before she'd had a chance to semi-immunize her favorites. Meanwhile, Mr. Shadow Moth's suggestion to get to searching for civilization immediately got an enthusiastic nod of agreement from her. The early bird catches the worm and all that~, and she really needed to get to work reacquiring her best equipment. "Sounds like a plan to me, Mr. Shadow Moth! I am a bit inconveniently strapped for supplies!"

The old man with the bestest mascot ever finally took his own turn to introduce himself as Cyrus of Team Galactic! Fancy! What a big name... and bigger claims! Creating a universe? My, he certainly didn't think small, that was for sure! "Wowee~!" the little blonde piped up. "We sure have got a lot of big-shots, huh!" Grinning, she pressed her lips together in a small smile. "Well, you all sure sound important anyway! I'm not really a leader of anything, so I feel a little left out!" She hummed, before snapping her fingers and grinning. "Oh, I guess it's my turn now?"

Giggling aloud, Bonesaw's hands drew forward to take up the edges of her blue dress, as she gave a neat little curtsy, meeting their courtesy in kind. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Driscoll Sir, and the rest of you as well! What wonderful manners you have!" she bubbled with a winning grin. "My name is Riley Grace Davis! It's true, I haven't heard of any of you, unfortunately, but, admittedly, I also go by a name you probably don't know!" She smiled brightly, thrilled by the novelty of meeting a group of people who might actually not know her! "If we're going to be playing together, then proper introductions are in order." Her smile was broad and pearly-white. "Hi, I'm Bonesaw, of the Slaughterhouse Nine!" What a polite and respectably devious person that Driscoll was; honestly, it was only right she respond the way a Good Girl should!

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Bruno Bucciarati

Location(s): Control Center, Paradox Engine.
Mentions: Ben @Mintz, Danny @Crimson Flame, Merlin @ActRaiserTheReturned, Terra @Dead Cruiser.

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Bruno listened to Ben's answer with a frown, grimacing from where he currently sat heavily upon his Stand's thigh. Ben's soul flared with renewed confidence, as the boy seemingly hit his verbal stride again, additionally claiming that he had experience with time-travel, among other things. "I see... You're telling the truth, so I suppose I must place my faith in your experience," Bruno responded simply, as Ben shot an almost offhanded warning towards the old man, who'd yet to do much talking beyond voicing general confusion. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd chosen to follow the lead of someone younger than him, and besides, he was so far out of his depth with all this technology and talk of alternate dimensions that it wasn't even funny. He was a gangster. In a fight, his resolve and results were matched by few, but he had a team to do what he couldn't in the past... and so it would seem again.

Bruno tensed as much as he was able, as the screens around them began to flicker into activity. Ben, in the meantime, had stepped away and was fiddling with a holographic projection of some sort from his Stan- No, given the truths he had heard, the strange watch wasn't a Stand like Bruno had first assumed, but despite that, the flare of confusion and flicker of his eyes indicated that Ben had indeed seen [Sticky Fingers], which meant that he was either a latent Stand User... or something stranger was going on.

A noise of triumph brought Bruno's attention back to the brunet teen, as his form disappeared in another flash of strangely bubbly green light, revealing a monstrous warped vision of a crab. Immediately, Bruno's senses were assaulted by... almost gibberish. Whatever this form was, its thoughts and feelings raced along at a truly monstrous pace, and acute though his relatively new empathic senses were, Bruno was no master of the craft. Bruno winced harshly, as the creature -Ben- gave a prideful declaration and then made several thoughtful noises, its already racing thoughts beginning to spin up to a truly egregious pace as if it were merely an idling car one moment and then slamming the gas pedal the next. The expression a "mile a minute" seemed appropriate here, as Bruno closed his eyes and did his best to restrain a migraine from forming underneath the deluge of words and terms that passed too quickly to properly comprehend in a maddening barrage.

Eventually, the mental assault died down. The other boy had been saying something, but he only caught the tail end of it. Whatever it was, it had rung with the taste of Truth, however, so he couldn't find it in himself to be overly fussed about it. The crab was holding a black rectangular device now, a second one jutting out of one of a pair of open slots that hadn't been there prior on the control board. The crab brandished the device proudly, expanding it into a the most high-tech display Bruno had ever seen in his life... a display covering in illegible nonsense. Looking briefly abashed, the crab -Ben's- carapace opened, gargantuan amount of grey matter exposed to open air, as it began to crackle.

"Hrk-!" Bruno choked out, squeezing his eyes shut at another mental spike being quite unintentionally driven into his forehead. Blinking the stars from his eyes, Bruno managed to catch what the crab was saying this time around, along with Terra's follow-up. "A-" he winced and shook his head. "Paradox Engine? I pray dearly that the usage of that term is largely for show, because if not? Its capabilities seem dangerously obvious, even if the purpose of its creation is unclear."

Dead Gods Dream: A post-apocalyptic divine action-adventure RP

SO! This looks interesting. And I see the open slot(s) has(have) yet to be filled. Assuming that it's currently first-come-first-serve, I have a pitch:

Humanity's Aegis, Goddess of Heroes

• Name: Valoria
• Gender: Female
• Appearance:
  Blonde and blue-eyed, she is nonetheless somewhat noticeably less "air-brushed" than other divine beings. As one who firmly sees herself as a human before a goddess, her divine form has not been scrubbed of imperfections. Instead, athletic and wired with muscle, the body beneath her armor is littered with scars from battles long past, despite her talent for healing, and the callouses of hard work are apparent to any that shake her uncovered hands.
• Personality:
  Something of a humble pacifist, time and care for humanity have tempered her from her time as an idealistic, reckless youth. Despite once being a violent, impulsive hero goddess, she has obtained the wisdom that only comes from age and experience and chooses to pursue paths that do not require bloodshed whenever possible. Believing that freedom is the right of all sentient beings, she is merciful and understanding, willing to grant second chances provided sufficient explanation. That said, her patience has limits, and once the lines have been crossed, she shows no hesitation in cutting down the offenders. She is warm and considerate to those she considers to be under her aegis, composed and polite to her allies and neutral acquaintances, and both furiously vengeful and coldly ruthless in turns to her enemies. As one of the depressingly few gods to have ascended from being mortal rather than forming from the cosmos, Valoria possesses a certain perspective on humanity that she clings to with all her might, preferring to live in the moment and care for her people in every way she can. She refuses to dismiss what she once was, and to a certain degree, she still does her best to think of herself as human and approach all things from that perspective. She does not desire or demand worship, despite how beneficial it is, nor does she typically request or expect payment for any of her good works. Courageous and willing to genuinely risk her life, she honors her word to the best of her ability once given, and she loathes cowards and betrayers.
• Domain: Heroes, Humanity, and Restoration.
• Abilities:
  
  Power at her height

  A paladin fueled by her convictions, at her height, Valoria was a warrior of monstrous strength and speed, her Hero and Humanity domains expressing themselves primarily in a mastery of every form of martial art and the realm of personal enhancement, enough so to hurl mountains at her foes and brute-force through the divine protections of other gods with her bare fists. The only beings faster than she were those with dedicated talents in domains near directly associated with speed such as Lightning or Light. She was able to call forth and use proficiently any weapon conceptualized by mankind, and beasts of war yielded to her call without hesitation. In particular, she commanded a stallion named Buckshot, who would grow to become a divine steed during the course of her ascension, one she could call upon at any time and who could never truly perish, such was their bond.
  
  Her sense of empathy and care for humanity expressed itself through powerful healing abilities, which she used judiciously with no care for repayment or the cost to her personal power. She could identify and banish the most horrific diseases and poisons with a single glance, exterminate plagues from entire regions with a wave of the hand. No matter how grievous the wound, merely uttering a prayer powerful enough to be noticed would see the ailment cured with a thought, no matter when or where or what she was doing upon receiving it. She would even resurrect the dead just as casually, so long as they hadn't reached the end of their mortal lifetime. And though she was capable of reversing the effects of old age, she rarely did so in order to avoid stepping on the toes of a plethora of death gods, who she was already at odds with.
  
  Valoria was well known for embodying a certain aspect of many human tales of victory over the obscenely powerful. In particular, she was known for overcoming even those that conventionally outclassed her by sealing them away, trapping some of her most powerful foes in various locations across the world. At one time, she confronted the Great Demonic Serpent god, Thragg, who had been cruelly fouling the lands with his venom. Their clash quickly proved that his venom was stronger than her healing and would see to his victory in an extended battle. Resolved, Valoria hurled her spear from the sky, pinning the serpent's head into the sea-floor with a thunderous blow. with her sword, she cleaved the tops off nearby mountains and hurled them down on top of the trapped god, and with her power imbued into them and the sacrifice of her beloved spear, her enemy and his venom were safely contained until death finally found the gods.
  
  As she is now, she retains the martial prowess she possessed at the height of her mortality with strength, endurance and speed enough to challenge and slay monsters straight out of fairy tales; though it may require notable effort, trickery or a combination of the two. Her restoration abilities are a mere pittance of what they once were. Though she can still heal wounds, it is now a slow, intensive process that can only be performed on a single target at a time. Other restorative effects, like curing fouled soil and repairing broken objects are even more weakened, requiring great concentration and meditation, as these were not aspects of her power she focused on mastering. To say the least, her ability to resurrect the dead is quite far out of reach, along with her sealing abilities.
  
  She still possesses a fragment of her divine arsenal, and though they are much depleted and what she does have weakened, she can call them forth or send them away whenever she desires. She currently retains: her plate armor, longsword, Usurper, and shortbow, Fanghorn. Current notable things barred to her are her steed, Buckshot, chariot, shield, Gatekeeper, and spear, Victorious, which she last saw buried in the seafloor. Her armor has not recovered any of its more fantastical properties yet aside from being tougher than than normal steel, but her sword is sharper than the typical mortal fair and sheds a warm light once drawn that grants courage to the hearts of allies. Her bow, meanwhile, not as well associated with her in worship, has yet to achieve any properties beyond ensuring than any arrow fired from it becomes mystically charged, allowing it to harm creatures with general defense against merely mortal means.
• Backstory:
  It is said that the term "Valor", itself, was named after Valoria and its definition modeled after her vision of bravery. In this same vein, she was strongly identified with the common perception of an idealized knight and hero. As the goddess to defy the heavens solely for humanity's sake, she was extremely well known, and her worship tended to clash with that of other gods. She was a patron of any mortal that sought to accomplish fantastical deeds of bravery or defend the weak, especially against the inhuman. She also was the most explosive in the growth of the number of her clerics, as she was willing to grant the power to heal to nearly anyone for a pathetic pittance of the same worship other gods typically demanded; ironically, this only made many of her worshipers all the more fervent and genuine, giving her more power to pass back through them.
  
  Full-ish Backstory

  At one time in an age long past, Valoria was a mere mortal, a farm girl who sought to take her sickly father's place during her country's military draft. Disguising herself as a man at the time and pretending to be a long-lost son, she joined the army and entered into a period of war, during which she established herself as exceptionally talented and came to particularly loathe the loss of life.
  
  When the war ended, she swiftly retired from military service and set to traveling the lands, seeking to make some sort of repentance for the amount of blood she had shed for the sake of a single person. She developed a powerful sense of justice and in preserving as many lives and long as possible, throwing herself near recklessly at any threat that crossed the path of humans. Dire beasts, dragons and just plain abominations against all that lived, she overcame them all, often at great personal injury, which she would devote time to learning to heal. Eventually, it came to a head, when she came to the distinct -and not necessarily incorrect- conclusion that the gods were threats to humanity and killed one. Though she was unaware, she was already worshiped before that point, and without that power, she would have failed. As it was, however, barely surviving and having her wounds unintentionally bathed in divine blood was enough to push her over the edge into full divinity, and those same wounds would develop into permanent scars and symbols of the trial she had endured.
  
  From that point on, she declared a one-goddess crusade against any god that tyrannically oppressed humanity, regardless of any good they might do or how integral to society and the order of the cosmos they might seem. If they were a threat to her charges, she sought them out and did battle. It was not always to the death certainly. At times, Valoria would come to an accord or even ally long-term enough to form a pantheon. At other times, she might delay challenging them entirely if she didn't think she could win, far from eager to invite unnecessary calamity upon the earth. Though her cause and goals might have seemed reckless or suicidal, she was far from unwise and tempered her hatred for the oppression of humanity with a cynical acknowledgement of her own limits, continuing to increase and hone her own power. In time, and with sometimes tentative or reluctant alliances formed with various gods across the board, Valoria came to an equilibrium.
  
  Instead of making war with the gods recklessly, she would repair the aftermath of their destruction, healing and resurrecting the victims and helping them pick up the pieces. Though this made her few friends among the death gods, it was better than fighting an unending war against the entire heavens, and so she came to finally occupy a position in the divine world that the other gods could at least tolerate on the whole, only taking up arms in truth for particularly egregious and actively malicious threats. In this way, in focusing on her aspects of healing rather than war, Valoria came to mend some of the bridges she'd burned with the divine and become more beloved than ever before by humanity, something that caused her worship and power to skyrocket. It reached a point where she became known as almost something of a pacifist, one that very few were willing to provoke, given how much power her popularity with humanity had given her.
  
  Valoria is extremely concerned by the event that, as far as she is concerned, imprisoned the gods. By all accounts, they were never truly killed; or at least, that is her theory. And while her fellows seem more concerned with rebuilding their power and enjoying the moment, Valoria is more worried about preventing humanity -brought to ruin twice over in her absence- from ever being bereft of her divine protection again.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Hugh Caphazath Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3 HP: 24/24 Armor Class: 17 Conditions: N/A Location: Hayloft Base Action: N/A Bonus Action: N/A Reaction: N/A

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Hugh generally observed. Looking back on it, he’d felt somewhat out of his depth this last little while, likely due to the fact that this situation was so divorced from his normal manner of approach. He’d done a fair amount more talking than he was used to as of late. In fact…

Hugh unscrewed one of his waterskins and took a long, slow pull from the contents, sighing in satisfaction at a freshly wet throat.

He’d been making a mistake perhaps, doing this, taking such an active role. The mission was important, but then again, he could likely complete it on his own. What did he care how these strangers risked their lives recklessly, so long as that didn’t threaten his own? Perhaps he considered the general loss of life a waste, despite his profession? True enough. But he couldn’t allow himself to be concerned over saving those that were too unwise to succeed or survive.

So, he was more than comfortable slipping back into the role he’d hoped to take from the start, a quiet, observant role. He’d allow others to do the talking where he could. After all, they didn’t seem entirely incompentent. His job was to focus more on seeing what they missed and infiltrating places the flashier ones couldn’t go. Staying out of the spotlight, ensuring that the fewest number of people possible associated his name and face with the rest of the group was better for his overall ability to operate unhindered.

The civilians would be delivering the carts to a proper stable. He considered going with them and then dismissed the idea. Meanwhile, Kathryn and Marita would be heading to the inn. On the one hand, he was more socially adept than either of them. On the other, that put a large portion of the group in a very public place and attached his face to theirs in front of a large crowd. And besides which, if the two of them screwed things up, he could just give it his own shot afterwards and afford the group a second try.

No, going to the tavern was not the way. Rather, he was far more concerned with the Bard being unguarded. Despite how frivolous her task was, she was unquestionably committed to it, and accompanied only by two civilians to an assumedly deserted place, she was vulnerable. Like her or not, throwing such a useful cog away and dismissing her value in combat out of pettiness was beneath him. It was only a single funeral on the first day. Ultimately, he lost little by being cautious and ensuring she was alive and useful for the rest of the mission.

Their mission was compromised. It was so easy to forget this important, absolute fact. Everyone else had seemingly dismissed the issue, but Hugh’s hackles were still quite thoroughly raised.

Someone wanted to disrupt this quest. Assassins were not even slightly off the table, and he would be a fool to dismiss the possibility of their appearance at any time. So, as Victoria went to meet the returning civilians and the Tiefling barraged him with options, Hugh shook his head.

“That’s all well and good, preferable even,” he sighed, “but I will be keeping watch over the funeral and our Bard. No sense putting her at risk, when we know for a fact that this mission has been compromised from the start.” Rolling his jaw, he frowned and spoke quietly enough to avoid the potential prying ears of the others. “You’re best off going with Kathryn. We both know that I don’t like you, for better or worse. You’re the type of person that grates at me the most, but I can acknowledge your savvy in social matters… something our more well-armored fellows don’t have. In a rowdy tavern, I think you’ll shine well enough to cover for any egregious missteps on their part.” Sighing, he finished, “Just don’t go anywhere alone, is what I’m saying, at the end of it all. You can come along, and I’d be alright with investigating those places afterwards -assuming we have time, but I think you’re best placed with them.” He gave a brief nod towards the armored among them and then set off to join Victoria silently.

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Chinami Nadakai

Dr. Nightman -rather tactfully, Chinami thought- seemed to completely ignore the whole "king complex" thing. Probably a good idea all things considered; that was some lofty and overarching ambition to poke at, and someone who actually had some implied inkling that they thought they could obtain it was quite likely to be... passionate in that conviction. It was also, notably, one of -if not the only- aspect of the boy's speech that he did not offer some platitude or counterstatement for. He wanted the throne of Izumo, unironically, and he seemed to think he actually had a chance.

Dangerous.

Dr. Nightman instead focused on the topic of betrayal, and -given what his letter had proven he knew about her- Chinami was inclined to think he wasn't tossing around theoreticals in regards to betrayal and even threats on the boy's life. With the context that he was supposedly a potential inheritor for the Izumo throne and Doctor's lack of contesting that statement, it was easy to assume that the boy could have suffered assassination attempts in the past... understandably so if his ambition was so lofty. Honestly, if the boy were instead content to live quietly like that one prince from Vauquelin whose name was escaping her, then perhaps he wouldn't need to be so paranoid. What it boiled down to in the end was that his need for paranoia was likely in large part entirely his own fault, assuming he was such a loudmouth about his ambitions elsewhere.

Of course, Nightman's words and tone -as graceful as they were in the face of potential bodily harm- were merely ultimately a deflection, one the boy seemed to insist on bulling through, as he pursued the "reviews" topic. Chinami would personally admit to a certain level of burning curiosity on that matter as well. Certainly, in the boy's place, she might had pursed that line of questioning just as doggedly. Just...

She would have avoided incriminating statements like this yahoo was throwing around.

One forearm lain over her eyes, Chinami let out an extended whine of a groan in second-hand embarrassment, listening to this warped funhouse mirror of a person, as the boy started going on about some ridiculous "protagonist syndrome" while making absurd and frankly untrue statements about what he'd rather do than harm his "friends". If he really was in possession of such a mindset, the last thing he'd be truly concerned about, at the end of the day, was the feelings and concerns of others. "Protagonist" did not necessarily mean "hero", but this guy -the way he talked- seemed to believe that was the case. Granted, if his delusion centered around being a "hero", then he'd be unable to uphold that delusion -even for himself- if he didn't at least pretend to care about others. At the end of the day, it was all self-serving bullshit; after all, part of his narcissistic gratification as a "hero" was "helping" others to begin with. The only reason he cared was because it made him look like more of a "heroic savior" and gave him more chances to have praise and adulation leveled his way to feed his ego and confirm his bias.

He wasn't apologetic about his faults. He was merely pretending to be, simply because that made him look better, look like some sort of "tragic hero" trope who was "struggling against inner darkness". He was a snake, a social chameleon, who said whatever he thought others wanted to hear while pretending that he was someone that didn't give a rip about the opinions of others. The only reason he was being so bold with the doctor was that he was saying what he thought the Doctor wanted to hear. The reason it all sounded so disjointed was that this little snake was out of his normal depth, and he was stabbing about verbally to see what stuck, to test the social waters and determine how he'd have to tailor his approach.

He was scared. He had to be. That was why he was making such reckless threats. She could even sympathize in that respect. If she, herself, wasn't so rational and fully committed to filtering her rage and fear through the lens of "will this ruin my future prospects", she might have fallen into the same trap of her own making.

She bodily cringed when he threatened the Doctor overtly again and began to glow gold, for more than one reason. It wasn't just the threats themselves that offended her; it was the way he was going about them. Threats were only good if you upheld them, and he had already failed to uphold the conditions of his first one, reducing the credibility of any future ones, no matter how tough a front he put up. His genuine fear and weakness was obvious to even the halfway socially adept. And furthermore, the questions he wanted answers to were somewhat useless. There was no way to prove them right here and now, and worse, there was no telling what the Doctor's Gift was.

The unknown Gift, assuming he had one. That was Chinami's true concern. Everything else was secondary. Was it spiritual? Was it magic? Was it just straight-up a mysteriously unique divine system of influence in and of itself like her own? With her own "Gift" as the comparison, it was easy for Chinami to be incredibly open-minded and paranoid about the possibilities available to any given opponent. More than anything else about a potential confrontation, this was her concern, the idea that the Doctor would have a Gift, one that struck at her own "Gift's" weaknesses.

The fact the Doctor still seemed quite unconcerned where he sat nonplussed did not help her somewhat reduced anxiety. Dr. Nightman actually addressing exactly that concern of "anyone being a potential threat" right after didn't sooth her either. Nightman claimed he'd been doing this a while, effectively that he'd "seen some shit", which in all honesty could very well explain how blasé he was being about all this. He simply wasn't intimidated, full stop, or if he was, his poker face was truly one to be respected.

The boy seemed to finally get a clue that this wasn't going to end in his favor and backed down, making some last empty concessions and apparently trying to turn things instead into a conversation between "equals" with a relationship of "cooperation and collaboration". Too late. Far too late. His threats had been empty. His momentum had been lost. He hadn't discovered what his potential enemy's Gift was -or even if they had one at all. His opponent had effectively styled all over him the entire way through and might as well have t-bagged him socially. Truly, the power of an experienced psychologist in their element was one to be feared.

It was the verbal equivalent of watching a soldier halfway through the training program try to spar a decorated general and seriously expect to win. You never fought an enemy in their element, and the little snake was too inexperienced to realize that he'd played into the Doctor's hands every step of the way. Chinami, for her part, had recognized the futility of such a thing from the nearly the very start and had set about trying to change the game preemptively, not that it looked like her efforts would be necessary.

If there was one thing her observations here had fully crystalized, it was the resolve to never meet Nightman face-to-face, nor to so much as engage him in conversation. As things were, she could... believe that he wasn't an enemy, not an actively malicious one anyway, but if she played his game, he could make things very annoying for her indeed.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Grimoiric Heart

Commissioned my artist friend to draw this~ The same person drew my avatar.

Picture

@Izurich

Epic.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Bruno Bucciarati

Location(s): Control Center, Paradox Engine.
Mentions: Ben @Mintz, Danny @Crimson Flame, Merlin @ActRaiserTheReturned, Terra @Dead Cruiser.

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As the Mysterious Stand was wrenched upwards and restrained by a telekinetic grasp, another light congealed, this time, for once, a woman, rather youthful in appearance and... already hovering a notable distance above the floor like the boy, which by this point was not so surprising. Brows furrowing and a fair shake more lucid than he'd been several moments ago, Bruno frowned at her accusation leveled towards the Mysterious Stand of "alien", his blue eyes narrowed. As she descended to the ground, the woman -Terra- claimed to hail from an empire that he most certainly would have heard of... if it actually existed.

Frowning, Bucciarati scrutinized her closely. Her posture was firm and confident. There were stirrings of unease only he was privy to, but regardless of the situation, she seemed almost completely nonplussed and unthreatened by any of the potential dangers in this room. Her tone of voice was straightforward and unwavering and her words unstuttered and unhesitant. On the surface, one could only assume she was either a consummate liar, arrogantly overconfident, or some variation thereof.

Bruno knew better.

He'd always possessed a talent for sniffing out liars, and this woman... At minimum, she believed what she was saying was true. That talent of Bruno's, perhaps it had always been something more... and had simply awakened to its true potential upon him being forced into a state of undeath, but he had grown to be able to feel the souls and thoughts of others. And it was because this was so that he could truly tell, without question, that this Terra was speaking from the heart. She believed -assumed even- that the Mysterious Stand was an alien. Absurd.

Or was it?

As Bruno paid attention to the souls of the room's other occupants for a change, he pursed his lips in thought at the potent prevailing cocktail of confusion, annoyance and anger... except for one.

Rattling off a shakily light-hearted remark at the old man's assault, the "Mysterious Stand's" own confusion had morphed into a combination of realization, resignation and then resolve. Bruno's sharp eyes and lowered position made out the Stand's tail jamming into the humming core, and Bruno's body tensed at the Stand breaking free of the telekinetic hold in a surge of renewed strength... only for it to slap the distinctive, hourglass shaped emblem upon its chest and fade away with a flash of green... into another teenage boy of similar age to the first.

Another extreme close-range Stand, like Secco's [Oasis]? The odds of that being the case with each abductee twice, never mind four times... was absurd. The fact that Bruno was the only odd one out -the only one with a humanoid Stand- of the five of them was simply mind-boggling!

Poleaxed, Bruno blinked and then frowned, as the boy landed heavily and staggered before straightening up with a wry grin, clearly concealing a limp. He called himself Ben Tennison... before making a truly absurd claim! And yet, somehow, as the boy turned a concerned gaze his way, he could tell for certain that this boy was no less truthful than the woman! As Ben approached him, the other teenager landed and introduced himself as Danny (last name variable) and made similarly absurd claims... with similar shades of truth to them!

Bruno's expression pinched in both confusion and pain. Were his senses failing him in new and horrifying ways? What they said couldn't be the truth, and yet it all was! What was this? What was this place? Who were these people really? He was supposed to be dead. Was this even real?

Could this be...

"-The work of an Enemy Stand," Bruno murmured aloud, brows furrowed. In the end, they had never determined the full limits of [Silver Chariot Requiem's] power over souls. It was possible that even in its death throes it had made one final gamble in defense of the Arrow. which meant that all this was... what exactly?

Setting his jaw, Bruno firmed his weakened shoulders as much as he was able, as he stared at the hands offering aid. In truth, he very much did not want to stand up right now. Honestly, that would probably be one of the things he definitely shouldn't be doing in such an exhausted state. He should be resting and recovering, doing everything in his power to avoid straining himself and making any lingering damage worse.

However... As always seemed to be the case, there was no time to rest and no place to lay. If this was real...? He had to be strong for now, to do what he could where he could. There was no use destroying himself to put on a strong front, but he needed to demonstrate that he could at least pull his own weight. Inhaling sharply, he grit his teeth and grasped the offered arms with his shaking ones, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Staggering, he reflexively caught himself with [Sticky Fingers], the pale humanoid's limbs briefly flickering into being beneath his shoulders to straighten his posture and allow him to lock his knees somewhat, before fading away once more to conserve energy.

The woman -Terra, he reminded himself- expressed her own concerns then. Though, they were marred somewhat by a ripple of objectively reasonable wariness and mistrust in her spirit. In contrast, the two boys seemed wholly unconcerned by any of those present, not even the old man that had moments before struck out at one of them without even a second thought.

Bruno opened his mouth to speak, before coughing briefly at how dry it felt. Working his tongue, he mustered up depressingly little saliva and swallowed, clearing his throat with a rasp. "My name is Bruno Bucciarati." He paused to clear his throat again uncomfortably. "I am-" His brows furrowed. "No. Rather, first, I must thank you for your concern and your aid." However little or unintentionally harmful it may be. At Terra's following questions, he frowned minutely before replying. "I was much worse before arriving here. And-" His eyes narrowed. "I can't imagine what would make you think for a single moment that anyone here isn't human. In fact-"

Setting his jaw, Bruno's expression hardened, blue eyes sharpening like glass. "My name is Bruno Bucciarati! I have long held a talent for determining a liar!" Wrenching his hands free of the boys' hands, he dragged his fingers firmly down their warm palms in passing and brought the digits to his mouth, giving a languid lick of the salty substance he had collected, humming thoughtfully, before gritting his teeth. "Before, I could only do so through tasting sweat, but I recently developed a more reliable method, and I can say for certain... that this is the taste of the Truth!" Gasping for air from his sudden bout of energy, Bruno hunched, and [Sticky Fingers] rose from his back once more, one leg sliding between his to allow him to sit on its thigh, while the arms wove around his own in support of him leveling a pointing finger at his fellow captives. "There is no Viltrum Empire, nor any other empire! The universe has never been threatened, nor has the world! Superheroes, ghosts and aliens: none of those exist! And yet-!" His jaw clenched harshly. "I know for a fact that every one of you is telling the Truth! Your stories contradict themselves, and yet not one lie has been spoken, nor deception attempted!"

His eyes narrowed upon Ben in particular. "You. I wish to give you the benefit of a doubt, but your prior form was compatible with a structure native to our mysterious location." His eyes flickered towards the humming structure in the center of the room. "When I arrived, you were the only one here..." His expression was resolute and straightforward. "I wish to trust that you are an ally. What do you know? Please, before we proceed further, speak quickly, that we might defang any hostilities."

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Chinami Nadakai

In hindsight, she maybe should have double-checked for traps on the filing cabinets beforehand.

Well, to be fair, as her Spirit's fingers deftly maneuvered the lock tumblers and extracted the contents of several cabinets, nothing actually jumped out at her. This time. Honestly, after half a decade, she'd gotten rusty, complacent. Life had been good to her, too good in some ways. Despite the frustration of reeducating herself, she had plodded along unbothered by nearly every other metric, exactly as she wanted. And that sort of quality of life ease was want to soften even the most hardened soul.

Point being, in hindsight, she'd made several mistakes in her approach thus-far, mistakes she hadn't been punished for, but that could be as much due to luck as anything else. She'd been acting irrationally; she would admit it freely. She was stressed and... angry. Furious, in fact. Chinami genuinely could not physically recall any event prior that had elicited such a bout a sharp, roiling and all-consuming rage and hate for another being, and so, she knew that she was biased, heavily so, irrationally so. She was looking less for truth and more an excuse to handle this is a way that was, objectively, absolutely horrible for her future prospects in living a quiet, peaceful life.

It was that acknowledgement of the self-destructive nature and consequences of indulging that rage that tempered her wrath, that stopped her from simply burning the clinic down just to be safe... and, admittedly, for the offense of wasting her time and inconveniencing her so drastically. Although, the risk of harming innocents had... not necessarily been factored out. She didn't think of herself as a cruel or crazy person. Spiteful and willing to dole out what others might see as disproportionate retribution, yes. But never truly cruel for cruelty's sake, especially not to those that had done her no wrong.

And it was that self awareness that drew her lips into a thin line and furrowed her brow, as she used her Spirit's high-speed perceptions to quickly flick through the patient files in alphabetical order, skimming everything but the sections related to treatments and prescriptions. She wasn't a doctor, so she wouldn't be able to pick out a particularly suspicious chemical on its own. However, if the files kept any record of an unusual amount of people taking the same thing with mismatched symptoms, then that could be a clue.

A clue that refused to surrender itself.

Closing her eyes, Chinami took a slow, calming breath, as her Spirit straightened out and replaced the files, beginning to lock up the cabinets once more. While she'd had the good fortune to stumble upon the nutritionist's office, the files that would have likely contained something out of place in the area she'd been most suspicious of were barren of useful information. At this point, if there were any place she'd be certain to find incriminating info -if, indeed, there was anything to uncover to begin with...

It would be Dr. Nightman's office.

A traitorous thought whispered that it would be all too simple to get access if she would just go to the appointment, but...

Exhaling in frustration, Chinami restrained a snarl.

No.

Not just 'no'.

"Hell no," the Goth girl hissed under her breath.

Even if she was wrong. Even if her paranoia was misplaced. No matter what, she would not ever allow someone to intimidate her in such a manner and threaten her present and future success! She, Chinami Nadakai, had claimed her rightful destiny of a peaceful civilian life through blood and sacrifice, had escaped the drudgery and danger of an uncivilized lifestyle and taken control with her own two hands! She had passed a mystical test by means even she didn't understand, a test that only proved what she already knew: that her way was the right way, the path she had chosen for herself, and thus, the Only True Path!

This piece of shit doctor, with his platitudes and prescriptions... he could take his concerns and his schemes and shove them up his ass! Chinami Nadakai would never submit to anyone that would rip her free will, her divine right to choose her own destiny, away from her! No matter their intentions! No matter their methods! She would prevail! That was the power granted to her, the divine right to alter the world for herself! That world had no right to demand she change in turn! And yet, even still, she didn't ask for much, didn't impose her will on others tyrannically! No! She had chosen to restrain herself, to live quietly and peacefully, adhering to the rules of society! She didn't pick fights or engage in violent vigilantism. She didn't abuse her powers to oppress others! She had done all this, done as any good, lawful citizen should, abandoned her dangerous lifestyle as so many of her former colleagues wished she would.

And after nearly five years of doing everything right, what did she get for it?

Threats, a massive invasion of privacy, and the abject humiliation of a fucking mental clinic trying to associate itself with her.

Unacceptable.

White knuckled and resolved, Chinami sent her Spirit through the door once more to scout ahead, spying a satisfactorily empty hallway. Unlocking it, the Goth hurried her pace. She had no idea how long she might be alone up here, but she knew what she needed by this point, knew exactly what she should be looking for. So, with that in mind, Chinami hurried to each of the three remaining upstairs offices, entering quickly and checking the name tags on each desk.

Nope, nadda and zilch.

Not one belonged to Dr. Nightman.

That confirmed it. Locking up each room securely, Chinami nodded to herself resolutely, dismissing the documents left unsearched in each. Logically speaking, if this were a trap, only an absolute moron would store anything incriminating on an entirely unguarded floor. Unfortunately, she wasn't lucky enough to be facing one, and she was merely wasting time up here. The real bounty -if there were anything to find- would be downstairs. Her Spirit, aside from its blue eyes, turned intangible to light again, diving into the floor, as Chinami started a hurried jog down both sides of the upstairs halls, prepping to start diving her Spirit about along the ceilings in search of a particular office. Her Spirit's accelerated perceptions would allow her to thoroughly canvas the area, even without taking a slow methodical search.

Her search was unexpectedly waylaid by serious paydirt.

Dr. Nightman himself, striding down the main hall...

And he had a patient, a brunette boy in green.

Tensely, Chinami cut her search and drew her Spirit near fully into the ceiling, carefully poking the eyes out on occasion, as she followed along behind at a steady pace. Honestly, she couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. If the Doctor was going to pull something untoward, she could witness it personally and intervene if necessary. All she needed was one definitive serious misstep, but... If there was truly nothing to be found? Well, regardless, a plan, a genuinely reasonable strategy, had started to formulate within her.

And the more she thought about it, the more she almost started to hope this asshole was legitimate. In some ways, to achieve victory in such a reasoned, rational way would be even more satisfying than resorting to ultra-violence, elicited even more glee within her at the idea up shoving proverbial salt in the wound. Chinami couldn't help a smug grin twisting her expression, as she truly considered the alternative, digging her phone out of her pocket and scrolling through her contacts to a very particular number.

Even if she had to go through them. Even if it cost her a favor... Yes, now her lingering doubts were laid to rest. With this backup plan in place, she would inevitably triumph in the end. And even if it inconvenienced her a bit in the short term, it would still be leagues less annoying than humoring this pathetic clinic.

The boy and Dr. Nightman entered his office, and Chinami briefly retracted her Spirit to unlock the room directly above it, moving in and locking the door behind her. Striding to the center of the room to expand her Spirit's effective reach to the area below, Chinami crouched down and sent her Spirit forth once more, peeking its eyes out overhead, shielded in part by the overhead light covering up their glow. It would likely take close and deliberate scrutinization -more than a casual glance- to catch sight of them... or so she hoped.

Nightman and the boy took admittedly comfortable-looking seats across from each other, and Chinami had her Spirit pan a quick visual once-over of the room with its gaze, noting the sparseness of it all. Originally, she'd thought the general lack of decor and content was unusual, but then again, she'd never gone to a place of therapy before. Perhaps that wasn't something so odd. What did seem a bit out of place, regardless, was the lack of a clock, indicative of... nothing she could say for certain yet.

After a small stretch of quiet, the Doctor began talking, presenting his little pitch of the context behind his actions, to which Chinami frowned. Apparently, this kid was another student. She didn't recognize him, but that was hardly unusual. The Doctor's pitch sounded relatively reasonable... too much so. Rather, it was so well worded that she could end up being the one that seemed unreasonable for opposing it. In fact, now that she had a baseline for what to expect, Chinami would put good money on herself being able to successfully spoof such an assessment herself and simply get on with her life... She could get this over with, go home, and hopefully never come back again...

Yeah, fuck that.

Doctor Nightman could feed his assessment to the dogs. She wouldn't be coerced, no matter how well he put it. The more she heard, the more certain she was that either of her plans would work just fine. The only question was which one the "Good Doctor" would elicit from her in the end.

The boy began speaking, and Chinami all but choked on her own spit. It was... Okay, some of it was like listening to a disturbing funhouse mirror of her own concerns regarding the situation. In other respects... Holy shit, this guy had fucking balls -if nothing else. The fact that -if he was being genuine- he would just spill his whole psychology out on someone else at the drop of a hat, regardless of whether it was a therapist or not, was mind boggling to the Goth.

There was also the... interesting moral platitudes he was giving, that would assumedly rather sharply clash with his self-professed arrogance and king-complex. King complex? The throne? This guy was related to Izumo royalty? Him? He was either ambitious as all fuck, delusional or some fascinating combination of the two, but she could admittedly respect his guts... somewhat. She wasn't sure if to call the outright threats he ended off with brave or fucking mad.

Also, Prince Galand? The name strongly tickled her memory, but the conversation -turned potential confrontation- at hand was too important to ignore. So, Chinami, her Spirit wide-eyed and coiled like a spring, watched and waited for the Doctor's reaction. If there would be any early and definitive test of character that would inform her approach going forward... it would be now.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

<Snipped quote by Lazaria>

Agatha just may be more powerful even than Merlin.

@ActRaiserTheReturned

Lol, mayhaps. To be fair, the villains kinda need help, considering the opposition (which may be set to get significantly worse with Morbius added to the scale. Honestly, at this point, any advantage at all is a good one. XD

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

Michael Morbius

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"It... It all sort of spiralled out of control..."

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Name: Michael Morbius

Nicknames/Titles:
Doctor Morbius
Bloodchief of Lineage Dragule
Hunter

Age: 35

Gender: Male

Affiliation: Hero

Personality:

Biography: Michael was born in Stuttgart, Germany. his father, a philosopher and mother a Doctor, he took more after his mother, growing up fascinated in the ways of science, he was constantly at odds with his father, who had always wanted his son to become a philosopher, this animosity only grew when, at the age of 13, he lost his mother to a car accident. His father and he grew very distant before he went to medical school and studied biology and biogenetics. His life seemed to be going in a good direction, that was until his first encounter with her...

Walking home from a lecture one night, he was attacked by a Vampire that beat him half to death, before attempting to turn him, before the creature could bite him, however, he was found by Rachel Van Helsing, the Vampire hunter, who slew the creature. After she saved him, he became enamoured with her and followed her, offering his assistance as a researcher. He and Rachel eventually fell in love and were married. Although Michael wasn't much of a fighter, he developed multiple new, Anti-Vampire bio-weapons for Rachel to use in her fights. He also got to meet other monsterous entities from across the world, some friendly, some not so much. One that they did find was a friendly Vampire in Los Angeles, as well as, in Egypt, a team of American Commando's made up of monsters. Eventually, Rachel fell pregnant and it seemed as though their lives were almost complete... Then one day, Rachel fell ill. She lost the baby, before soon losing her ability to breathe properly. She was diagnosed with "McGregor's Syndrome" which was thought completely incurable, but, after a bit of research, his findings brought him to someone online by the name of "HOI"

Michael and HOI corresponded for quite some time as they worked together on a cure and made some good headway, they even developed a stop-gap for stage one patients, such as Rachel, where they could put her into a medically induced coma and keep her under indefinitely. However, their working together was cut short when HOI stopped connecting and then, the funds that they were sharing in a bank account were frozen. Going underground in Greece, Michael continued to hunt vampires until he came to the realization that, perhaps, they could be the answer. Vampires contained incredible healing powers, he had never even heard of one getting sick. He managed to capture one and began to work on adapting the Vampiric genetics to synthesize a cure. But, without HOI's help, he quickly ran into walls. Specifically, he ran out of samples from Nora's advanced stage 3 and was forced to run tests on Vamprie Bats that he infected. Finally, he managed to synthesize what he believed to be a mutagen that would give humans the healing factor of Vampires, with no other choice, his first test subject was himself. What happened next, he had no idea, but when he came to, he was surrounded by a dead biker gang and he had mutated...

Getting home, he looked in the mirror to find himself horrifically mutated and with a taste for blood... Not wanting to accept what he was, a full-blooded vampire, he grabbed a silver stake and drove it through his own heart. He waited and waited, but death didn't come for him. He threw himself into the sun, but again, death was no-where to be seen. After some quick tests, he found that he wasn't a vampire in the typical sense. He was... Something else... He tried to correspond with several other scientists that he knew, but nobody was willing to return his messages. Those that were quickly stopped replying as soon as he brought the word "Vampire" into the conversation. HOI finally came back online and he arranged to finally meet HOI.

HOI turned out to be Doctor Victor Frieze from Gotham, a disgraced medical genius that had taken to a life of crime to fund his research into curing McGregor's. Victor did a number of tests on him and they quickly found out that he was something completely different. His blood was hungry and it didn't care where it got its meals from. However, it took in whatever desirable traits it could find. Before he could turn this to his advantage, however, Morbius found himself in more trouble as a Vampire by the name of Dracula found him and tried to convince him to become his new right-hand man. There was a number of scraps and scrapes with him as Morbius forged alliances and friendships with other monstrous beings from his dimension, fighting some of the other bloodchiefs together, as well as against each other. But one day, he found himself visiting Rachel and who should he find by Dracula. The Bloodchief took it upon himself to sever every link that Morbius had to humanity and he started by curing his wife by turning her into a Vampire. This backfired on the Lord of Darkness, as the newly turned Rachel attacked him. Vampirism is caused when a vampire bites someone and drains their blood. They inject a tracing spell into the veins in return, which calls a demon from the hell dimension to possess them and crave blood. Turns out that the demon that possessed Rachel was not only especially powerful, but also harbored a deepseated grudge against Dracula, resisting his dominance over him and trying to kill him.

Morbius and Rachel gathered their allies and launched one final attack on Dracula's castle. After a long and arduous battle, Dracula was defeated, with Morbius draining his blood, as well as the title of Bloodchief from his veins. The demon inside of Rachel left, dragging Dracula's soul back to the Hell dimension, returning Rachels soul to her body. Luckily, the ordeal had cured her McGregor's Syndrome, but it left her disoriented. She escaped the castle and went on the run. Morbius immediately wanted to go after her, but his team convinced him to stay and fortify their position. She was disoriented and would be in no fit state to accept all that was happening at the moment. Michael officially took his seat on the Grand Council of Bloodchiefs in order to secure his own safety and the safety of those around him, including Rachel. With that completed, he went after his wife.

He eventually caught up with Rachel, him convincing her to come back with him, that they could do good for the world with his new power and position, just as they locked in an embrace, it happened... She disappeared before his eyes. Turning to his allies, he saw half of them disappear as well. It turns out that, elsewhere in the universe, a mad Titan called "Thanos" had wiped out half of all life as a passionate guesture for his love, Death. Michael immediately went on a mad crusade to find out what happened, but quickly found out that this wasn't localised. He met with the other heroes of the world in order to discuss what had happened, with half of the other heroes dead, the rest decided to go after Thanos and use whatever magics he had used in order to revive them. The battle against Thanos was long and hard-fought, earths mightiest remaining heroes throwing everything they had at the titan and him easily repelling them using the power of the Infinity Stones. Eventually, with the help of another Titan, they were able to wrench the gauntlet from his hand. Morbius took the gauntlet for himself. With their allied Titan and most of the godly heroes down from the battle, he reasoned that his Bloodchief status (Effectively a god among vampires) made him the most likely to survive using it to return everyone to life. Concentrating hard, he snapped his fingers and... Suddenly he was here... This strange nexus...

Powers

Mutant Vampire: Morbius' powers stem from his research into adapting the supernatural properties of monsters into humans. Although, he himself is more of a mutant due to his DNA being crossed with that of a Vampire-Bat, as well as a little bit of Vampire blood, rather than the blood curse of Nosforatu, he nonetheless shares certain powers commonly associated with the Homonus Nocturni.
*Super Strength: Even at his weakest, he is still easily able to lift a ton over his head. After his power boost from Dracula, he is able to lift up to 4 tons above his head.
*Super Durability: Like most vampires, conventional weapons have little effect on his body. Bullets can stun him and cause him great deals of pain, but can't kill him. He is also incredibly resistant to blunt-force-trauma.
*Super Speed: Whereas not able to outrun a speeding bullet, he is able to outrun any non-powered human, his top speed is around 40mph.
*Super Stamina: Due to his blood being different, his body produces little in the way of fatigue toxins, allowing him to push his maximum potential for hours at a time, without rest.
*Supernatural Reflexes: Whilst not Spider-Senses, he is able to react to stimuli almost 20x faster than the average human.
*Acute senses: Due to his increased physical traits, it has yielded amazing superhuman senses. He can see in the dark, his sense of smell is better than most dogs, his hearing is on the level of a Bat's.
*Super Regenerative Healing: Although not as amazing as Wolverine's, his healing rate is beyond most any naturally occuring creature. He recovers from simple cuts and scratches in minutes. And, although not good enough to regrow internal organs, he can regrow lost limbs if he can rest for about a week.
*Claws and Teeth: Like any vampire, he must feast on fresh blood 2-3 times a week to keep his strength. To help him with this, his canines have increased in size, as has his finger-nails into razor-sharp claws.
*Immunity to Typical Vampire Weaknesses: Unlike typical vampires, he is uneffected by holy symbols, silver and oak weapons or sunlight.
*Blood Absorption: Possibly Morbius' most interesting power. His blood is hungry, it needs to consume more blood and is not against turning on itself. If he doesn't drink blood for long enough, he will die a very painful death as his body consumes itself. However, this does have its advantages. His blood only takes on the most desirable traits of whatever it consumes. Essentially, he can gain the powers of beings that he consumes the blood of. He takes 1 power from each 1 person that he bites and generally this happens purely at random. If he bites superman, he doesn't necessarily gain the entire kryptonian physiology, but it might give him Heat Vision or Super Breath or Flight. He gains no further powers from subsequent bites.

Absorbed Powers

A list of powers that he has absorbed from biting people:
Cold Resistance (Can survive in temperatures as low as -50 Celsius) [Mr Freeze]
Super Ventriloquism (Can throw his voice and mimic others with pinpoint accuracy) [Superman]
Wallcrawling (Can always find grip on any surface, can even stand upside down on the ceiling while maintaining this balance) [Spider-Man]
Homing Ability (Always knows his way to the New Mexico test site where Hulk was created) [Hulk]
Allspeak (Is always able to communicate with anything known to Asgard) [Thor]
Deep Sea Survival (Is able to breathe underwater and can resist upwards of 700 atmospheres of ocean pressure) [Namor]

*Bloodchief of Lineage Dragule: After defeating Dracula and dethrowning him as the bloodchief of his Lineage, he gained the following powers:
*Hypnotism: The weak minded can be controlled by maintaining eye contact. Strong willed individuals can counteract this though.
*Flight: Has the ability to produce a pair of large bat-wings from his back which allow him to fly at speeds exceeding 100mph.
*Shapeshifting: Michael is able to shapeshift into bats, rats, wolves and mist.
*Dominion over Vampires of Lineage Dragule: Any vampire that was turned by himself or Dracula is unable to disobey any direct order from him.

Weaknesses

Vampiric Weaknesses: Due to being partially vampiric, he does have several of the problems that go along with it.
Vampiric Hunger: He MUST feast on living blood at least 2-3 times a week. The main problem is that other animals can sustain him, but he must feed on human blood at least once a week or he slowly loses his sanity until he is forced to feast.
Garlic allergy: This one isn't strictly related to his vampiric abilities, he has always suffered from a mild allergy to Garlic. Ironic, isn't it?
Sunlight sensitivity: Unlike other vampires that explode when sunlight hits them, Morbius finds that exposure to sunlight makes his skin hypersensitive. Mild cuts that he would otherwise ignore are now agonizingly painful. Punches from some punk feel like being shot.
Ultra-Violet based weapons: Not specifically a weakness in the sense that they are a guarenteed kill, but more in the sense that he is equally susceptable to them as a human would be. UV based lasers will cut through all of his powerful defenses as though they did not exist.
Sense-Overstimulation: Having superior sight, smell and hearing can come at a disadvantage. Although sunlight doesn't hurt him, he finds it difficult to see in the sun, he also finds his skin becoming more sensitive during the day. Certain smells can overpower him and sounds that would be annoying to a human might be deafening to him.

Little Formal Combat Training: Despite being incredibly strong and having access to a reasonably large arsenal of weapons, he has little in the way of actual combat training. In battle, he rellies fully on his powers and team-mates to carry him.

Minimal Firearms training: He has fired a number of guns in his time as a vampire slayer, but he is far from a marksman.

Infinity Gauntlet: Probably the single most powerful item in his universe... Emphasis on his. Infinity Stones are the building blocks of his universe and have no power over anything that wasn't bore from his universe. This means that the only thing his Gauntlet can hurt at the moment is himself.

Equipment

Armour and Sword of Dracula: A suit of magical armour, with a sword. Both forged in the Hell Dimension and brought with Dracula to the mortal realm. They are each nearly indestructible and serve as a conduit for his powers as the Bloodchief. The armour, however, does not cover a lot of his body, only the chest, hands, forearms, shins, knee's and feet, leaving almost half of his body fully exposed. The sword teleports to his hand on command. The cape turns into his wings when he needs to fly.

Infinity Gauntlet: One of the most powerful weapons of his universe, with the power to reshape the entirety of his cosmos on a whim... His cosmos... The gauntlet and by extension the stones themselves have no power at all over anything that did not directly come from Morbius' universe. Using them takes an incredible toll on his body, so healing his own injuries is not really an option. But if someone were to take it from him, they could kill him and only him.

Other:

He seems a little powerful, so i built him in with an easy way to kill him. If this doesn't work out, i've got some other ideas.

@mattmanganon

HOLY BACKSTORY BATMAN! I see you put the powers in hiders to save space, when the thing that actually needed a hider was the backstory. The powers section really isn't that big at all. If anything, it's that picture size that is just overbearingly massive. XD
Also, if you think he's too strong, let the GM worry about what actually gets nerfed. The "nerf"/weakness you invented isn't even feasible to begin with. The Infinity Stones literally can't exist and/or work at all outside their home universe, and even if they could (perhaps due to something funky going on as a result of this whole multidimensional event), introducing those things to the wider universe is just begging for trouble.

Oh, and that backstory is complete bunk (even for the "reimagining" that this guy supposedly is). Morbius is Marvel, not DC. It's literally impossible for him to be in Gotham, which now sorta makes the legitimacy/feasibility of his listed powers suspect. This is a full-on crossover fanfic version, not a reimagining.