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Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

Let me know if anything needs fixed/edited/clarified/etc.

Ruyn Grimm aka The Grim Reaper

Character you have created:
Ruyn Grimm

Alias:
The Grim Reaper (Reaper)

Speech Color: f9ad81
"Don't touch my mask or I'll break your fingers."

Character Alignment:
Walking the Line

Identity:
Public

Character Personality:
Ruyn is kinda reserved and knows he’s attractive but his social anxiety makes it difficult to navigate social interactions, and therefore is more often than not, a man of few words. However, he is also the kind to really open up and be honest about his mental state with the ones he trusts and loves with all of his heart (like Vita and Mori) and laughs easily at his friend's antics/jokes. He's got a wicked sense of humor and often jokes about death, depression, and other stuff. He is sometimes sarcastic, moody, and self-deprecating. Ruyn is also not afraid to punch or stab a bitch, just saying, especially if they are aggressive with him about his mask (verbal abuse, trying to take it off of him forcefully). But if they asked politely and promised not to scream at least he might consider taking it off.

Ruyn is soft-hearted on the inside and wants nothing more than to feel comfortable in his own skin around people he trusts. He wishes he wasn't so fucked up, but also does the best he can with it, and does his best to show the ones he cares about how much he cares for them. He is incredibly swayed by the cuteness of animals and children. when feeling confident, he is really charming, and persuasive, and knows how to use his voice, and looks to get what he wants, whether it's free stuff, a partner for the night, or information.

Ruyn also loves to dance, be it hip hop or ballroom. One of his favorite things to do is to go to his club where he can take his mask off and have fun with another demon or vampire on the dance floor. He is also 85-100 years old by now, and he is pretty good at guitar/piano.

Uniform/costume:
Often wears black clothing with splashes of blue, white, grey, and red thrown in. Typically dresses in jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket or hoodie/sweater paired with boots, but looks dapper in a suit and tie. Wears tank tops and form-fitting workout pants when exercising. He also wears eyeliner and mascara, because he can. Sometimes he wears eyeshadow. Or maybe he’s just tired. It’s anyone’s guess.

When in battle, he wears black and red form-fitting full-body armor made of Demonsteel-plated leather armor that looks like dragon scales (including a battle mask molded to the exposed bone parts of his face(crafted by an immortal blacksmith friend and imbued with Ruyn's demonic signature).

Origin Info/Details

Ruyn lives with the twin goddesses Mori and Vita, the living embodiments of Death and Life, respectively. Mori, as the embodiment of Death and therefore the Patron Goddes of Death Demons, took him in when he was out trying to reap a soul and something went horribly wrong, nearly resulting in his untimely death before he could fully grow into his immortality (most demonic species grow like humans for the first ten years, but only just begin to physically mature-hit puberty-around 20, and age into adulthood/immortality around 40-45). Mori and Vita let him cook for them as he likes cooking even though none of them really need to eat. Mori also gave him new powers cuz she feels like he's like a lil bro or something and she’s not about to let her lil bro go out and get mugged by someone who thinks they’re a big badass for trying to fuck with a Grim Reaper. Mori originally was contemplating taking pity on him and making him her servant, but she was too soft-hearted when it came to her demons, especially poor Ruyn, so she decided it would be better if she just made him family. And the rest is history. Anyone who messes with Ruyn is literally laughing in the face of Death.

Some Jackass: Threatens Ruyn somehow/Is rude about Ruyn's mask probably.
Mori: So you have chosen to die this day

When Ruyn was a young demon (around 15 years old), he stumbled his way into the mortal realm, having accidentally teleported in a fit of despair: his Dam, his mother had been killed by a demon hunter while she was visiting another demon family. Poor Ruyn didn't know how to teleport back and was faced with horror and rejection from the mortals, was even almost killed several times but always escaped by instinctually teleporting away in fear. Ruyn learned to steal what he needed for food and clothing before teleporting and hiding away in order to take care of himself and avoid demon hunters/other supernatural beings. When he was 25 he was enslaved by another immortal, being "trained" to please their every wish, sexual or otherwise, only learning how to use his powers from another Reaper Demon slave. He was a slave for twelve years before being freed by a group of powerful beings who had been working to rescue him and the others within the underground slave market. Ruyn ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore, ending up at a young farm couple's house, who took him in and nursed his injuries, not batting an eye at his demonic heritage: they themselves were shifters and they welcomed the young, traumatized Reaper into their home.

He lived with them until he felt the need to move, and left after saying goodbye, moving to a new city. He was called into the spiritual realm one day by a desperate soul, and unintentionally left his physical body where it was vulnerable. A demon hunter took the opportunity to "capture" him, and brought him to a lab where he was poked and prodded until it jolted his soul back into his body with a silent scream; they had been cutting him open and that included his throat. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, strapped down as he was, and not yet grown into his immortality, his lifeblood steadily flowing from is wounds and down the metal table to the floor. As he lay dying, he sent a prayer to whoever might be listening, to either end his suffering, or to give him the strength to destroy the beings who were torturing him so. Luckily for him, a certain Goddess of Death felt the plea of one of her beloved Demons, and flew into a rage, coming down herself to freeze them all in place.

She walked over to the demon she considered to be one of her own blood, and cupped his face in sadness, breathing a red mist upon him. it soaked into his skin, and his wounds rapidly healed, his strength welling to new heights, clouds of pain being chased away by relief. And with the relief came his wrath. He broke his bonds with a savage growl and tore into each of the hunters with merciless bloodshed.

Blood splattered the walls and ceiling, limbs and organs scattered about, torn, ripped to shreds. Broken bones, gore everywhere. On him, all over the room, under his claws and in his teeth and hair.

"My ferocious child," the goddess crooned, hair the color of fresh-spilled blood flowing about her shoulders. Her voice was dark, and echoing quality to it, like a creeping tide of death that rises and falls with her words. "I have failed you as your Patron. I will atone for my lack of protection and attention, I swear upon the very powers I wield. Come, you will be safe with me, and you will be stronger than before, stronger than you might have been without my intervention. Anyone hurts you in this way again, they will be meeting their end sooner than they can blink."

Ruyn looked at the pale-skinned woman, whose perfect, porcelain face held black eyes and glowing, blood-red markings that followed the bone structure of her face, giving her an eerie overlay as she held a claw-tipped hand out to him. Ruyn took her hand willingly, trusting her on instinct. The goddess and her subject disappeared from the mortal plane in a puff of smoky darkness.

Hero Type:
Supernatural: Death Demon; Reaper (Grim Reaper)

Power Level:
World

Powers:
-Reap souls from bodies with his scythe/Reaper Blades
-Enter the Spiritual Plane with or without his physical body
-Umbrakinesis: the ability to manipulate/control shadows/darkness
-Demon Mark/Rose Tattoo: glows when he uses his powers, and whoever draws it on something/tattoos it onto themselves can communicate telepathically with him and act as beacons for each other. He doesn’t allow anyone to know his full mark, so he covered it with a rose tattoo because there are other beings who would use it to his detriment (the one person he might show it to is blind so yeah).[
-Fully Demonic Form with wings
-Every 50 years can Reap one soul and use the years it had left to extend his own lifespan or that of someone else.
-Can teleport to places he has been before.
-Heightened senses (taste, touch, smell, hearing, sight).
-Accelerated healing/color]
-Sometimes shapeshifts into a tank-sized dragon made of bones and shadow.

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Height:
6'10

Weight:
250 lbs

Strength:
Can easily tear a man limb from limb. Can't bend titanium though. Could prolly lift an adult female elephant (8,000-10,000 lbs).

Mobility:
-On foot: 100mph in a straight line for 12 hours, starts to tire and slow down after 13.
-By wing: coasts at 80mp, can "speedrun" (so to speak) at 95
-Teleportation: nearly instantly, if teleporting in the mortal realm. Takes a few noticeable seconds if teleporting in, out, and around the spiritual realm.
-Agile: does gymnastics to keep himself fluid despite all the muscle. He's agile enough to be a spy, even when he wasn't grown into his powers.

Intelligence:
He's naturally intelligent, as most of his species, but he's developed his intelligence, especially in fields of interest he takes great joy in studying/practicing. So, probably a genius, especially when it comes to all forms of weaponry and combat, and spy work/intelligence gathering (the main reason why he ends up knowing so much).

Fighting Skill:
Excels at most forms of combat, though his true martial skill lies in swordsmanship, throwing knives, daggers and hand to hand, fight-to-the-death combat. Pretty fluid about subduing targets quickly, as well.

Resources:
-Blades, lots of blades
-A goddess of Death with a penchant for training until both of them are bruised and bleeding.
-Lots of money accumulated over the years
-Owns a bar on the DL, it brings in good cash and loyal clientele of the supernatural/metahuman/alien kind

Weaknesses:
Severe Social Anxiety-He wears a mask cuz his face fades into bare bones, exposing his jaw bone, long fangs and sharp, pointed teeth before fading back into the base of his skull. It scares/weirds people out, and they think he’s scary because of it, despite him being a total sweetheart. As a result, he has extreme social anxiety, particularly when people ask him to remove his mask or why he’s wearing one. He could glamor himself but as he’s a Death Demon who has to speak with other supernatural beings, it’s not exactly always an option to be glamoured (may supernatural beings see through glamors anyway), so the mask is easier. His anxiety makes it hard for him to have the confidence to date/make new friends. As a result, he is often unsure of new friendships but kinda lives in his own little world at times and doesn't notice when someone might actually like him.

PTSD: Ruyn used to be enslaved, and was alone for many of his years as a young child/teenage demon. Sometimes unexpected touch causes his anxiety to spike, or for him to flinch, expecting pain. Certain weapons (like whips) make him nauseous to look at and he absolutely panics if his hands and feet are bound. Panic attacks last anywhere from 5 minutes to a few hours. Sometimes he hyperventilates until he passes out from too much/not enough oxygen and/or shakes so hard he can hardly move. Sometimes he has to teleport to the pocket realm he and his adoptive sisters call home, away from the middle of a battle just to keep it together so he's not killed by it.

Beheading/Full Dismemberment-He can heal from most fatal/grievous wounds such as a bullet to the chest, but cannot regenerate if his head is severed and kept away from his neck (if reattached quickly enough, he can heal enough to not die immediately, but it has to be within two minutes of decapitation). Limbs can be reattached/regenerated, but regenerating entire limbs takes up to a week and is extremely painful.

Demonic Marking: While it can be used by him to track down loved ones who are in danger, it is also a risk as there are many other cruel beings who would use it to track him down and enslave/kill him. Ruyn would rather die than be enslaved again. And he'd also rather not die.

Sensory Overload: extremely crowded areas, tight spaces, blinding lights, and sometimes high pitches in sound or extreme volumes give him nosebleeds and anxiety and sometimes migraines that are so bad his body shuts down. Certain smells that he doesn't like sometimes make him nauseous. He can't walk past the laundry sections in stores without holding a hand to his already-masked nose. Uncomfortable physical touch can trigger his anxiety/PTSD and causes nausea and panic.

Depression/Self Deprecation: Constantly fights with self-hate and depression, Some days are worse than others.

Permanently Damaged Vocal Cords: He literally can't speak in a whisper, the hunters did a number on his throat when they cut him open, and Mori isn't a healer, not really, so she was unable to reverse the damage all the way. He can talk softly and purr his words, but that's as low as he can go.

Supporting Characters:
Ahmose, Minor Egyptian God of Shadows, Moonlight and the Undead: close friend and sparring partner, adopted older brother. Helps Ruyn meditate and deal with his past trauma. Ruyn is eternally grateful for Ahmose's quiet understanding and silent support.
Cian, Primordial Vampire, Queen of Vampiric Ireland: Close friend and sparring partner, fellow chaos raiser, adopted older sister. Always knows the best people to help him fix his weapons.
Menkaura, Minor Egyptian God and Protector of Cats, Children, and Women: Close friend, sparring partner, adopted older brother. Also helps him blend in with modern fashion, and gives fashion advice.
Mori, Living Embodiment of Death, Patron Goddess of Death Demons: Roommate and adopted older sister.
Vita, Living embodiment of Life, Patron Goddes of Healers and Life-givers: Roommate and adopted older sister.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:

Nope, not at all

I have permission to use both of these images, as one was done by me (I am SiriuslyAnArtist everywhere except here), and one was done for me by an amazing friend.
[/width]

Sample Post:
The tall, nearly seven-foot male sighed as he waited in line to order a drink, messing with the rings on his fingers, twisting the one on his right middle finger that had a rotating center, the sound mildly loud and rasping to his sensitive hearing if he let his guard down. He had to keep it up in order to not go into sensory overload on a daily basis, if he wanted life to be a least a little bit easier than it had been the past 50-55 years before meeting Mori. Ah, Mori, his Patron Goddess of Death and Death Demons. Also, his adoptive sister. He's still not sure how he went from being an Ascended Reaper to Primordial Reaper-Something to do with Mori's guilt at being an absentee Patron and how he was older than he thought, and technically was the oldest living Reaper? Whatever. He had a family who cared for him and a best friend who made him feel comfortable with himself, and that's kind of all he cared about at the moment.

"Excuse me, sir," someone tapped on Ruyn's shoulder blade with a hard finger, and he turned his head to regard the short human female with a raised eyebrow. the human in question couldn't be more than 5'5" and 112 pounds, heavy makeup with blonde hair in a big, southern style hairdo, large hoop earrings in her ears, country club fashion clothing her from head to toe.

"Can I help you?" he rumbled.

"You know it's rude to wear masks inside, right?" the female demanded bossily. "You should take your mask off and show a little common decency."

"I am wearing this mask out of common decency, thank you," he narrowed his pupil-less eyes at her. This bitch has more balls than most of the men here and half the brains, he thought to himself.

"Oh, really?" a snotty tone, hands on hips in a bitchy manner.

"Yes, really," his voice deepened and too on a dark, echoing and ringing quality, and the woman's face paled as she recognized the sound of a demonic voice. "I wear this mask to keep you from nightmares that drive sane men to insanity and self-violence. So do not fucking touch me or talk shit about my mask, again, yes?." the female nodded and averted her eyes. Ruyn sighed and turned back to the line, ignoring the eyes on him, casually ordered three coffees and paid for them all before leaving the coffee shop in a cloud of black smoke that smelled like roses and spice. He hated making a scene, he really did, but humans were stubborn creatures.

So I wrote this between 3-5am, there's prolly mistakes in there somewhere.

@IrishAngelQueen

I'll approve this. Just keep in mind, gods and goddesses are limited to being about as powerful as the New Gods in DC or the Asguardians in Marvel

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Alright, now that my electricity has come back, expect some posts in the next couple of days

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

*rises from her grave*
I am back, after what's prolly more than 3 years oops. Uhhh Can I just restart with a new character and forget about all my previous ones? I promise I'll do my best to be WAAAAYYYY more active this time. Girl Scout's honor.

Please ignore this spoiler, its a wip rn.

Ruyn Grimm aka The Grim Reaper

Character you have created: Ruyn Grimm

Alias: The Grim Reaper (Reaper)

Speech Color: f9ad81
"Don't touch my mask or I'll break your fingers."

Character Alignment:

Identity:

Character Personality:

Uniform/costume:

Origin Info/Details:

Season 1/2 Summary: N/A?

Hero Type:

Power Level:

Powers:

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Height:

Weight:

Strength:

Mobility:

Intelligence:

Fighting Skill:

Resources:

Weaknesses:

Supporting Characters:

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:

Sample Post:

@IrishAngelQueen

Sounds good and welcome back. Looking forward to seeing what you come up with

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

Nikolai Ivushkin, the Cryophoenix

When he's just a dude

Character you have created: Nikolai Ivushkin
Alias: Cryophoenix
Speech Color: "I like pizza and this code is 6ecff6." - Nikolai Ivushkin, 2020
Character Alignment: Lawful Neutral/Walking the Line
Identity: Secret
Character Personality: Nikolai is a clever joker, perhaps best known for his love of memes on history and science. He has many strange interests, and is seen as strange as a result. However, he is also a flaunter of his superior intellect and looks down on those that don't understand in his level, giving him a mixed reputation. Still, he is ostensibly caring and defensive for those he sees as friend or as equals, but other people that are not as close don't receive the same treatment, and may even be seen with contempt if they had assaulted him in the past. While usually chill and likable, he could be prone to fits of drunkenness, which are quite embarassing. He has a mentality of 'anything it takes'; he will not hesitate to destroy someone entirely if they are a proven serial killer. He thus believes that some people are simply unredeemable.
Uniform/costume: None; his transformation suffices to hide his identity. However, when fighting while in human form, he wears a Guy Fawkes mask and a black trench coat.
Origin Info/Details: The child of immigrant parents from the now defunct Soviet Union, Nikolai was born a few minutes before his twin Nikita, making him the older of the two of them. He was the middle child, with his older sister Katarina being born a few good years before he was. His father, Piotr (now called Peter), was a soldier, and he would often be absent due to being assigned in the sand strewn battle fields of the Middle East as well as the broken cities of the now defunct Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. However, an injury forced Piotr to retire from the military; he would then pursue online business, while also allowed him far more time with his twin sons. Thus, Nikolai would be raised in a rather, say, unique way; he was raised to be goal oriented and to have a will of metal; determination and perseverance are some of the things that would define him as he grew up. Nikolai would thus be seen with favour by most of the local neighbourhood. Intelligent, courteous, straight A's: the perfect child in the eyes of many. He had great pride with himself, and rightly so, for he is bound to be of the honor roll of the local high school. It was in his elementary days that he developed his eccentric properties; he sometimes used a cane even though he was not an old man, and always wore black and grey. He was weird, but fascinatingly intelligent. In junior year, he held the position of Editor in Chief of the school paper, which ensured that he knew quite literally everyone in the school.

Days would pass, and then they turned to months and then years. One day, while contemplating about the future, he found himself lowering the temperature of his surroundings; frost and snow had formed on the ground all around him. It was a strange time, too; it wasn't even the winter months yet. There was only one possible outcome, then: he now has the power of the winter. A day after that, he was assaulted with visions of his past lives. The ones that came before told him who he was; the latest incarnation of an ancient wizard of the east that wielded powers of winter and cold. He was, for all its worth, the Cryophoenix; a spirit of unforgiving cold that endures continual cycles of death and rebirth to help defend the world from threats, wherever and whenever they come.

Decades would pass as Nikolai studied medicine in university, and got himself an honor roll in the process. He'd become a medical researcher; an expert in the functions of the human body in the good times and bad. However, every night, the Cryophoenix stalked the cold shadows, seeking out murderers and thieves in a bid to remove the pests of society from existence. Some would be impaled in spikes of ice; some would just be found stuck in ice cuffs right outside the police precinct, ready to be captured. But who could say that the Cryophoenix was a friend of mankind, other than those who know him personally?
Season 1/2 Summary: Nyet
Hero Type: Mystic
Power Level: City Level
Powers:

Cryokinesis/Cryogenesis: Nikolai wields the ability to rapidly reduce the thermal and kinetic energy of objects through a gust of freezing magic that he fires from his hands, or by physical contact. In addition, he forms an anomalous form of ice that he could also control with both thoughts and hand gestures. This anomalous ice, known as Phoenix Frost, is as hard as rock and takes twice as long as normal ice to melt. This ice can be formed in any shape he wishes such as bladed weapons and solid blocks. It seems that only up to a metric ton of the material could exist in any given time; he is able to 'take back' his magical ice back into himself in a mist-like form should he need it elsewhere.

Cryophoenix Transformation: After a lengthy incantation, the phoenix tattoo on Nikolai's wrist glows white and coats him in a flurry of mist and ice, out of which emerges a phoenix that is seemingly made from pure frost. The Cryophoenix possesses a flight speed equal to that of a Peregrine Falcon (186 mph), but in winter conditions, it increases to up to 450 mph. The Cryophoenix is able to maintain its form for up to 30 minutes before needing to return to human form, but it is also able to keep itself in a shrunken state the size of a starling indefinitely. When in Cryophoenix form, the Cryokinetic abilities become wildly imprecise, with the ability to shape ice into definite objects becoming ineffectual. Rather, the Cryophoenix possesses two main avenues of ice based attacks: its icy breath, which rapidly immobilizes and slows down targets upon impact, and the ice 'feathers' that it shoots out of its wings.
Attributes:

Height: 5'8"/ 10'
Weight: 70 kilograms/120 kilograms
Strength: Average; no super strength
Mobility: Not that good when in human form, but when transformed, he becomes extremely mobile with the power of flight.
Intelligence: Above average; he has messy handwriting and has been lauded for his thesis on cryogenic therapies. He says that it's all just hard work, though.
Fighting Skill: Apparently, the Cryophoenix knows how to fight hand in hand, taking techniques from Krav Maga, Northern Shaolin Kong Fu, Judo, and Esrima. He is not a master, but he could easily take down the average thug without using a single bolt of ice.
Resources: What does a 31 year old medical researcher with a bright mind get, anyway? He is quite well off, but he does not have great resources; not that he needs a lot anyway.

Weaknesses: It has been proven that heat based weaponry are the greatest threat to the Cryophoenix, as it literally causes its cryogenic avian form to start melting. In addition, extreme blunt force trauma could break its form. Nikolai Ivushkin himself does not possess superhuman durability, and could be killed with a bullet to the head.
Supporting Characters:
Nikita Ivushkin; his twin brother, who has no powers whatsoever. He works in a tech company and also has a big brain. He knows that his brother is the incarnation of an ancient ice spirit, and is quite proud of it.

Peter Ivushkin and Mary Ivushkin; his parents. They're old retirees, and feel conflicted about how their son freezes criminals every night.

Catherine; his older sister. She doesn't seem to care. But she does. In her own way.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?: Duh
Sample Post:

My Hider

Eleazar Nikolavich Diaz-Sapohznik

"Where's your sister?"

Eleazar stood in front of his mom, a little unsure about the answer that he had mustered for her question. He was tasked with accompanying his younger sister Alessia to school everyday, as it was, as his mother put it, 'his prime directive'. The pendulum swung thrice before Eleazar broke the rather awkward silence that he and his mother shared in the dining room.

"She…" Eleazar stammered, scratching the back of his head. His sister was a total enigma to deal with; she often got out of the house way earlier that he did, and she usually did not even wake him up. It's like she did not care if everyone else got worried about her. "Uh… she left before I finished preparing my stuff…"

"Oh, that girl…" Felicita shook her head in annoyance. "She's as impatient as ever, no? She wouldn't even wait for you to come along with her to school… aren't your classes at the same time?"

"Actually, there's something else." Eleazar put on his signature black jacket from the coat hanger near the door before picking up his cane. "We're merging with another school that closed down for some reason today. Liberty High, I think. They're rich kids, mostly."

"Now that's odd." Felicita nodded slowly. Rosefell and Liberty merging together was one of the unlikeliest things to ever happen. "Okay. Do you have your lunch with you? How about your phone?"

Eleazar pulled out his lunchbox from the bag, shaking it in front of her. "I have everything, mom."

"Alright. Go say goodbye to your dad."

Eleazar nodded and quickly sprinted towards the bakery, which was a family business that had sustained them for the last twenty years. His father was the one running it, and he worked along with one assistant. Not enough was usually earned every day to pay a bunch of employees, so he usually had one or two teens working part time jobs. Their jobs were quite basic; put the bread in the bags, take the payments, give the change. The lives of this family were not glamorous, but they were not dirt poor either. They were somewhere in between.

"Dad, I'm going now." Eleazar said as he walked near the ovens where the bread was being formed from dough and yeast and whatever toppings/fillings they wanted.

His dad, who had taken to being called Nicholas after all of his years in America, turned from his work and handed him a paper bag filled with conchas. "Alright sonny, take care. Your sister had gotten ahead of you half an hour ago…"

"Okay dad." Eleazar then sat on the driver's seat of his electric tricycle, which was a quaint little thing that was clearly suitable for getting around in short distances, like the metres that he had to cover from home to school. Alessia was probably already there anyway…

---

After chaining up his electric tricycle on the parking lot, Eleazar quickly got in. There were noticeably more people in here, as the merging had begun. He imagined that quite a number of Rosefell students didn't like that these bourgesie Liberty High-ers were coming in here… but, if anything, if he was able to befriend a few, he'd get buddies that were rich… which was a win-win in any scenario. They'd get a homie as sweet as a cake, and his pizza cravings would be readily satisfied.

Either way, he found himself walking towards a table, filled with stickers with 'Hi, my name is' followed by a blank. It was another of these events, it seems. He would just put one on with his name written on it. Eleazar walked with a noticeable limp, as his left leg had been injured a year or so back in a football match.

It wouldn't be long before he found a familiar face, as he saw Cael Crawford along with Spike and a boy he did not recognize. Probably one of the newcomers.

Speeding up a little, he would walk up to them with a more or less sober expression. He did, however, lighten up when he got close to Cael, as he just hugged him from behind and used his shoulder as a chin rest. Typical demeanour from him to a friend. Eleazar did remember the time when Cael had fallen for him… but that was a long time ago. Right now, he was a friend. "Well, well, well, look at who the egregious tides of time and circumstance had brought into this... humble institution." He extended a hand to Christian, though not before taking his glove off. "Eleazar Nikolavich, at your service. I assume you're one of the newcomers from the… uh… what was it again… Liberty, right. Liberty High." His memory was a little spotty; he had little sleep last night due to playing Dungeons and Dragons with his… international friends. "You lot are welcome in this place, I guarantee that you will have a lot of fun here. And make new… um… friends. And stuff. You know what I mean… hehe. Heh." At that moment, he just pulled out a Concha and began munching on it. "Just ask... us if you have questions. And stuff."

Awkward…

@The Man Emperor

Approved

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

This has piqued my interest. How does a cryokinetic that transforms into a flying cryophoenix sound?

@The Man Emperor

Actually, that sounds quite interesting

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

Icon swooped down on one of the troop carriers, clutching it with one hand at what he assumed was the landing bay door and then took off skyward with it in tow. When he reached several thousand feet, well below the typical cruising altitude of a commercial airliner, he spun himself around several times, building up momentum and then let go of his grip, sending the troop carrier flying away from the city, where it landed harmlessly in the harbor.

Immediately, Icon turned his attention to a group of citizens that were attempting to fight off several alien aggressors. While their attempts to keep the aliens at bay had been valiant, they had also been much for naught. The aliens had little difficulty in cutting down the over-matched humans with their advanced weaponry.

“I don't think so.” Icon said aloud as he rocketed toward the alien attackers. He touched down on the ground in front of the group of people, putting himself between them and the aliens. The one of the aliens fired some sort of laser weapon at him. The bolt struck him firmly in the chest, and he had no doubt that if it had hit one of the civilians, it would have incinerated them instantly. He looked down at his chest, and saw the smoke coming from the spot where the energy blast had struck him, then to the alien who had fired the shot. Icon noted that the weapon was not a gun, which one may have imagined after watching countless science fiction films dating back to the pulp movies of the Forties and Fifties. Instead, the energy blast had come from a staff that the alien was wielding. A staff that while different, held a striking resemblance to something that he had seen before.

“That stings.” Icon said with a grin as his gaze fell upon the alien that had attacked him, his eyes glowing a pale blue. Then the hero fired an optic blast that struck the staff wielding alien in the chest, knocking him off balance. Icon then charged the alien, snatching the staff from its hands and snapping it in half all in a single motion. “A cheap knock-off.” Icon said as he examined the broken staff that he held in his hands, discarding it like garbage, and then shoving the alien lightly in the chest, which still sent the murderous creature slamming hard into the side of a building on the other side of the street.

Then, Icon went to work on the remaining three aliens. In a silver and cobalt blur, he flew between them, first disarming them and then rounding them up, binding them together with a single piece of re- bar from a nearby construction site, then depositing them with the unconscious alien that he had sent into the side of the building.

“Now might be a good time to run.-” Icon said to the band of citizens he had just kept from being slaughtered. [b] “-Find someplace safe and stay there.” He finished before taking to the skies again.

It wasn't long before he saw his next move. Several of the invaders had attacked more civilians, or so he thought at first. However, there was something different about these “victims.' They or more specifically “he” was having much more success fighting back. The man, who appeared to be tall and lanky and dressed in what looked to be a custom designer outfit had had been handling the aliens with apparent ease.

"Mmmhmm! Candy is the cure! Yo! Icon! Pretty neat of you to save the city and all that! But this whole alien thing above us really is spoiling my sweet dreams so be a good boy and get that technological horror away! I make sure to prepare a gift bag with your name on it!" The strange red and white clad man said to him gleefully almost in a sing-song like voice as he went about taking down any near by aliens. Icon didn't know who this man was, or if he was friend or foe, but something told him that it really didn't matter right now. Now, all that mattered was the survival of the human race, so he was willing to take help anywhere he could get it.

“If you can fight, which it looks like you can-" Icon said as he regarded the peculiar man. “-Now is the time.” Icon said as he again took to the skies, leaving the strange man standing in the street.

***

High above Earth, The Autocrat watched the events unfolding below him from the view port of his private chambers aboard the mothership of the Arlaaekan fleet. Though he had seen similar scenes play out time after time across countless worlds, he never grew tired of it. The death, the destruction, and ultimately, the thrill of victory. However, this time, something was different. These humans were unlike the others that had been conquered by the Arlaaekan machine. They had a certain something, a fighting spirit quite unlike anything that he had ever seen before. While it was true that many of the worlds that he had conquered had fought back, or at least attempted to, they hadn't had the same ferocity that these humans had. Though their bodies were frail and weak, and their weapons of war were primitive at best, they held a resolve within them that he almost admired.

Almost.

The truth was, it mattered little how hard the Earthlings fought. Their fate had been sealed the moment that they had accepted the Great Concord. The day that the staff-wielder had accepted the beacon, the Earth had also unknowingly accepted its fate. There was little use in fighting back, though many had tried, they all eventually fell under the heel of the forces of Arlaaek.

It was inevitable: another world would die so that Arlaaek and her children would live.

The Autocrat watched the destruction below intently even as the doors to his private chambers slid open behind him. Towering despot did not have to turn to face the intruder, as he know that only one would enter his private chambers unannounced.

“What is it, Admiral?” The Autocrat said to his visitor.

“The siege goes well, my lord. The initial strike took them by surprise and left much of their planetary defenses in shambles.-” Keelan said as he pulled a small device from the breast pocket of his jet black admiral's uniform. The device was metallic gray and about the size of an 8x10 note card. When he activated the device, 3-D map of the Earth appeared in just above the palm of his hand. “-though there are pockets of resistance, as we expected, the heaviest fighting is here.” He said, pointing to Lost Haven.

“As expected, Admiral.” The Autocrat said as he looked away from the map and back out of the viewport. “Is this not the location of the Beacon?” The Autocrat asked, already knowing the answer.

“It is.” Keelan confirmed.

“Is it also not the area most populated with the so-called 'meta humans?” The Autocrat asked, again not really expecting an answer. The Autocrat had, along with the Admiral as well as his other advisors, learned everything they could have about their current target. The Earthlings had a strange habit of announcing themselves to the rest of the universe, almost as if they had an innate need to know that they were not alone in the universe. They sent messages into the stars, telling whoever may happen across them, everything that they needed to know about the pathetic backwater world. It told of their dreams and ambitions. However, it also told of their weaknesses, and their strengths. It told of their heroes, the ones who wield great power in the protection of the planet.

The meta humans.

The Autocrat knew that to take this planet and her resources, they would first have to eliminate the heroes that protected it. He had been surprised to learn that one of his asteroids had failed to reach its target, yet was undisturbed by that particular turn of events. He had ordered an assault on the city, and expected it and those protecting it to fall at any time.

“It appears that we may have...underestimated the resolve of the meta humans that occupy that city. They have thus far beaten back our forces.” Keelan said reluctantly.

“Hrmph” The Autocrat grunted in annoyance.

“It seems that thus far, they have been more than a match for our forces.” Keelan told him.

“Very well.” The Autocrat said as he clenched his fists at his side. “Bring me the Outsider. Perhaps it is time to finally unleash him upon his home.”

Greetings! Candy Cane Service!

Thank you for the Candy Cane to whoever it was that sent me one.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Luke Skywalker. The man's name resonated through Joren's entire being. He had heard tales of the great Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker, the hero of the Rebellion. He had been the young pilot who had destroyed the first Death Star, the hero who had slain both Darth Vader and the Emperor himself. Truth be told, Joren hadn't really believed the stories. He suspected that this Luke Skywalker had been a fraud, a creation of the Rebellion intended to conjure images of the Jedi of old as a way of bringing legitimacy to its fight against the Empire.

However, now, standing in this man's presence...he knew that it was not true. This man, this...Luke Skywalker was radiating with the Force. Joren had never been in the presence of someone who had ever been as strong in the Force as this man, not even his father's presence could compare to the man who stood before him. No, something told them that all the stories about this man were indeed true.

“The Force is with you.” Luke finally said, breaking the silence at the table. The Jedi master had been surprised to find someone who appeared to be so strong in the Force.

“It is.” Joren admitted after a slight hesitation. He had spent his entire life hiding his true nature from everyone around him, including his best friends, yet for some reason he knew that he could be honest with Skywalker, which was oddly freeing. “I guess you can say it runs in my family.”

“I know what you mean.” Luke says as he averted his eyes to the floor for a split second, before a smile crossed his face. Luke stayed silent for a moment before he returned his gaze to the younger man and his Mandalorian companion.

“So tell me about yourself.” Luke said at last.

“What do you want to know?” Joren asked.

“Well, your name's a good start. Where you came from.”

“There's really not much to tell. My name is Joren Kel, I was born on Nar Shaddaa. After I lost my parents, I had to grow up fast.” Joren began.

It was a story Luke had heard before. But he could tell that the younger man was holding back. And Luke understood. He had only just met him, and the Jedi master hadn't yet earned the younger man's trust. And that was alright, Luke had hoped that there would be plenty of time for that.

“What is it that you do?” Luke asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

“A little of this, a little of that.-” Joren said. “Nothing much n particular.”

“He's a space bum.-” Dono cut into the conversation.”He's a decent hustler. And he's damn good in a fight. He's actually saved my neck more times than I'd like to admit.”

Joren was somewhat surprised by Dono's sudden praise. The Mandalorian had barely said two words to him since that night on Tatooine. He found himself wondering exactly what his friend was up to.

“Yeah, I guess when I'm not out there 'hustling and being an all around scoundrel,' I'm mostly just trying to avoid trouble.-” Joren said to the Jedi. “-So, what's your story?”

Luke looked around the crowded cantina, and though he wanted to be honest with the younger man, he wasn't sure exactly how much he could say without being eavesdropped on by someone in the bar.

“I want to talk to you about that, but not here. Why don't you come with me, I think I might have a job offer for you.” Luke said much to Joren's surprise. “Come with me.” Luke said as he motioned for them to follow him to the exit.

“Why us?” Joren said as they stepped through the doors of the cantina leading into the street. Luke just turned his head to face the younger man and smiled.

“If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that scoundrels usually aren't that bad.”

“So, what is this job offer?” Dono asked as they started walking down the street. Luke looked around, surveying the area to make sure that there wasn't anyone listening in. When he was satisfied that no one was, in fact, paying any attention to them, he began to speak.

“Listen, what I'm about to tell you is a...sensitive issue. However, something tells me I can trust you to keep this to yourselves for now.” Luke told them. When the men nodded in agreement, he continued. “Shortly after our victory at Endor, I had set out to rebuild the Jedi Order. I have a small number of students, however, I am looking to identify more potential students. However, with the continuing war against the remnants of the Empire, the New Republic is limited in what they can provide for support of this mission.”

“They've told you that you're on your own.” Dono said with a hint of understanding in his voice. Luke just nodded.

“I need a ship. Transportation to different worlds as I look for students. Preferably a ship that can hold its own when things get rough, yet provide enough room for training. This would be a long term mission. If you're willing to do this, the New Republic will pay you handsomely. Ten Thousand credits up front, plus expenses to get you started. The final price is negotiable, of course.” Luke paused for a moment, almost as if internally debating his next words. “And I'd be willing to train you as well.”

Joren just stands in silence for a moment after listening to Luke's proposal unsure of what to say. This was the very thing that his father had been preparing him for since he was a very young child. Since before he could walk, Joren's father had instilled in him the values of a Jedi. All the “games” that Van Kel had played with his son, which unknown to the small boy had been Jedi training exercises, to more formal training as he got older. Joren knew that this is exactly what his father would have wanted for him. Yet, Joren had seen what his father's devotion to the Jedi Order had done to him. It had left him a broken man, desperate to reignite a flame that had been extinguished in the universe or years.

After his father's death, Joren had decided to live his own life. He had no desire to follow in his father's footsteps. He didn't want his father's obsession to become his own. However, that was before he found out that there were more out there like him. That he wouldn't be doing this alone. The prospect of being with others who understood the things that he felt, the things that he experienced was very tempting.

As was the pay for the job. Ten thousand credits up front was a lot of money, and would go a long way in helping he and his friends establish their new lives.

“He's in.” Dono said suddenly, before Joren could answer for himself. Joren turned to his friend, his eyes wide in astonishment. “Vod'ika, we've known each other for a long time. You were born for this.”

Joren split his gave between his friend and the Jedi, and then nodded in agreement.

“I'm in.” Joren said finally.

“We're in.” Dono corrected as Joren turned to look at his friend and smiled in relief.

“I think we have a ship that's perfect for this job. And I already have a crew that I trust.” Joren said to Luke.

The older Jedi smiled at the pair and clapped Joren on the shoulder.

“That's good, Joren. You're about to take your first steps into a larger world.” Luke said, recalling the very words that Ben had once said to him when he had began his own journey, in what had seemed like a lifetime ago.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

The wind whipped against his suit as he raced through the streets of Lost Haven on his motorcycle. The bike was fast, having topped out at over two hundred miles per hour between Crown Ridge and Lost Haven, however, he just couldn't move fast enough as the images of the destruction that had been wrought across the globe raced through his mind. These invaders knew what they were doing, they had wiped out or crippled numerous cities which were strategic military strongholds, and now they targeted Lost Haven, which was home to a very large metahuman population.

If Lost Haven were to fall, the rest of the world would soon follow.

As Lyger entered Lost Haven, he realized that things were worse than he had feared. The burnt out vehicles that lined the roads, flaming ruins of what had once been thriving businesses and bustling apartment buildings. The panicked residents running through the streets trying to find shelter from the marauding invaders. From the reports that Whisper had been feeding to his comm in his mask, Icon and the others seemed to be making a stand in Sherman Square, which meant that he needed to get there, and fast.

Some things never change. Lyger thought to himself as memories of the various assaults on the city over the years always seemed to culminate with an all out attack on Sherman Square. D-Day, the Hounds of Humanity, and now, invaders from another world.

He rounded a corner which would bring him to the final straightaway to Sherman Square, Lyger saw one of the many alien drop ships, which had touched down throughout the city. A mixture of fear and relief filled his being as he saw a small group of civilians cornered by a single alien soldier, who was pointing some sort of weapon at them.

However, the thing that he found most startling was the vaguely familiar appearance of the alien. The dark blue/black hair, the teal skin. He had seen a being that appeared to be from the same species, and he had learned to trust her during the war with the Hounds of Humanity. However, now he had to wonder...had Flux been playing them all along?

He pushed the thought out of his mind as he leapt from the bike and met the alien soldier with a boot in the chest, knocking the armed alien back. Surprised by the sudden attack, the alien hesitated, which allowed Lyger to follow up with a hard right hand to the jaw, followed by a stiff jab, and a bone crunching kick to the knee, which caused the alien soldier to cry out in pain as he fell to the ground.

“Get out of here, find cover and don't come out until this is over!” Lyger snarled at the huddled people who had been the target of the murderous alien. However, they just stood there, either too horrified to move, or in such a state of shock that his words hadn't registered. “Go!” he exclaimed, his modulated voice amplified over the sudden silence. It was enough to snap the civilians out of their stupor and send them scurrying away, just as several other alien warriors arrived on the scene, seemingly responding to their fallen comrade's pained cries.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He's done it again. Richard Midas thought as he watched Icon redirect a large space rock away from the city from the large bay window in his office which overlooked Lost Haven. The scene reminded him of the first time he, or anyone for that matter, had seen Icon. The day that he had prevented the Gold Dawn from crashing down in the middle of the city, doing untold damage and killing countless people. That singular event had ushered in the modern age of heroes, and that one act had captured the imaginations of people all around the world.

This was different.

An advanced alien race had declared war on the people of Earth, and in multiple, coordinated attacks the death toll had been unimaginable. Even now, despite Lost Haven's “savior,” his city burned.

As Midas watched the attack unfold before him, he found himself wondering if this was what it was like for the ancient denizens of Rome, who could only watch as the barbarians stormed the gates, and the Visigoths finally sacked what had once been the hub of civilization.

Fortunately Lost Haven had something that the Romans didn't...Heroes.

Heroes with an annoying habit of coming out on top even when the odds seemed insurmountable. Whether it be fanatics who had somehow taken control of orbital weapons, lunatics trying to turn every man, woman, and child in the world into mutated freaks, or beating back the hordes of Hell itself. Somehow, the heroes manage to always come together and save the day.

And for what may be the first time, Midas prayed that they are able to keep their improbable win streak alive, as the very fate of the world depended on it. However, Midas was not a man who left things to chance. He turned away from the window and looked to the “extra security” that his business partners in the Eye of Osiris had sent over.

“Go down to the sub levels and move the twins to the underground labs. Stay with them there, if anyone other than myself or Ms Sparks tries to get it, kill them.” Midas instructed them before turning to Alison Sparks, who had been watching the events unfolding outside of Midas Tower with horror.

“Ms Sparks, I'm not going to rely on people I can't control to keep us safe. I want you to go to Ms Desdemona and bring her here. She's sat on the sidelines long enough, it's time that she earns her keep.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

Posts coming. I've started on one and I have some thoughts for another