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There are various other, minor sorcerers, witches, wizards, magi, etc. for you to pull from within Marvel and DC. Ones that others will not likely use or care about, so you'd be free to reinvent them for your purposes. That way you keep your story beats and don't restrict other potential Doc Strange players to what you've established.
I am interrupting the intoxication parade for a moment for this very unimportant announcement:

I'm done with work for the week and have no teacher-related duties for the weekend, so I'll finally get a chance to pick up the bow over the next few days.
@Hillan You don't remember my incredible run with Bart Allan as Impulse? It lasted all of two posts! For shame, Hillan. I thought you were better than that.
<Snipped quote by Sep>

How else do you think Team 7 celebrates other than a team orgy?


I didn't know you were roleplaying United States Republican Congress members.
You misunderstand. They're not DOOM's patrol. They're on patrol for DOOM.


Here's to hoping your Patrol lasts longer than mine did. Then again, it's not too difficult to surpass three posts. Either way, looking forward to it.
A DOOM Patrol without Doctor DOOM. Who would have thunk.
Maybe something X-related


I read that as something entirely different at first.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
G R E E N A R R O W


O L I V E R J O N A S Q U E E N V I G I L A N T E / B U S I N E S S M A N S T A R C I T Y Q U E E N I N D U S T R I E S
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"I've failed this city. I've left it alone, and left the people I should be protecting exposed. I'm never going to let that happen again."

The son of tech billionaire Robert Queen and his wife, Moira, Oliver inherited Queen Industries and all its holdings upon their passing before his 21st birthday. Like most opportunities, Oliver squandered it, instead choosing to live a life of affluent debauchery. Not long after, an apparent incident at sea left Oliver stranded on a seemingly deserted island and thought dead to the world.

But things are rarely as they seem.

After three years of harsh survival on an island fraught with danger, Oliver Queen returned to civilization a changed man. In the four years since his return to Star City, Oliver has dedicated himself to cleaning up his city, rooting out corruption, and helping the downtrodden.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

As a character, Oliver's goals are typical of his portrayals. I'm not looking to discover electricity with this interpretation, just to keep it grounded.

I have no interest in telling an origin story here. This is a Green Arrow who is experienced and highly trained. He has seven years of vigilantism under his belt if we count his time on the island bringing down Chien Na Wei's heroin operation. He's had a successful career in uprooting and destroying Star City's organized crime families. He has allies on the police force, in the district attorney's office, and in the local vigilante community. He has his fortune, his company, and all the technological perks that come with it.

I plan to use Ollie as a vehicle to have fun with good 'ol fashioned, street-level crime-busting with a sprinkle of political activism. While thus far in his story, his role as Green Arrow has been largely kept to the Star City limits, I also plan to put the character in positions prime for collaboration and crossovers.

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

I'm not going to list every foe Ollie has or has not faced thus far, but the major highlights are as follows:







I have plans for more, of course. For the most part, though, I'm interested in taking obscure and/or joke characters and turning them into genuine threats and adversaries, updating them for the modern world with a grounded approach.

S A M P L E P O S T:

The city was alive. Three million voices calling out all at once. They spoke of many things; told many tales. Newfound happiness. Unexpected tragedies. Simple joys and complicated loves. The loudest voices, though, the ones that so often were shouted up to the heavens begging for a response of any kind, were the ones so often ignored. It's not that they went unheard, rather those that were in place to hear didn't care to listen.

Star City, the great tech capital of northern California, was cold. Like many American cities, it had been corrupted and twisted; the warm, beating heart surgically removed by a trillion-dollar scalpel and replaced by an unfeeling facsimile. Its soul had been bottled up into jars labeled 'elitism' and tucked far away in the deepest recesses.

Three million voices. A choir of whispers and screams, laughter and tears. They rang out across the peaks of cutting-edge skyscrapers, danced through the picturesque suburbs, and softly died out amongst the furthest, destitute portions of the city. They cried out for help. For hope. Pleaded with the powers-that-be to do
something, anything, for the good of the many.

Three million voices failed time and time again by those who
could, who should, be amplifying those voices' calls for change. Those voices have gone unanswered for too long. No longer will their empty echoes clatter hopelessly against imposing towers of metal, glass, and greed.

The city was alive, and it beat with a calculating rhythm supplied by the artificial blood of lucre. Enterprising indifference was a disease that corroded its bones.

Once, a lifetime ago, I had neglected the city and abandoned its people to languish needlessly. It was a mistake that I will never let happen again.

My name is Oliver Queen. I hear the voices of my city. I
am listening. This is our home and it's time to cut away the rot.


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

Almost exactly 24 hours later, the sample is up.


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