Festive
mickilennial
Half Pint
Qia
Melissa
webboysurf
Supermaxx
Nemaisare
AeolianHmm, I don't remember saying Green Arrow is based on Gotham. But I did also state that I am open to changing things if someone wants to play as him/her/them.
Green Arrow: A masked vigilante who fights crime around Gotham City.
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Watch out.
The gap in the door... it's a separate reality.
The only me is me.
Are you sure the only you is you?
The gap in the door... it's a separate reality.
The only me is me.
Are you sure the only you is you?
DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL NOW, WE'RE JUST GETTING STARTED
Most Recent Posts
J O H N C O N S T A N T I N E
J O H N C O N S T A N T I N E
J O H N C O N S T A N T I N E
"S'just the way of it. We all sell our souls sooner or later."
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T  _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y John Thomas Constantine _________________________________________________________ Caucasian | Unemployed _________________________________________________________ London | Greater London Area | England C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G | C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T May 10th, 2004. Mary-Anne Constantine, struggling with a strenuous labour compounded by complications from a previous abortion, passes away while giving birth to John Constantine and his stillborn twin brother. Thomas Constantine, father and suddenly widower, would not forgive the mewling infant for the death of his wife, or the stillbirth of his other son. John would not come to understand this animosity from his only remaining guardian for twelve years; but his older sister, Cheryl Constantine, would pick up on it the same night that Thomas returned home with John. She would spend her days from that point forwards protecting John from the father that had spurned him, pouring into him the love he was otherwise denied. By the time of his teen years, the bond between Cheryl and John had created an impenetrable barrier against Thomas' drunkenly-hurled abuse and persecution, and was only stronger for the addition of Gary Lester and Francis Kramer to their cabal of found-family. The four of them formed a strong union of friendship, each guarded and guided by the others. They would pursue their interests both independently and as a unit, exploring the new and old of the world around them. The darker aspects of art would become the glue that cemented them together, a deep interest in Punk and Emo, as well as Horror and the Occult, binding them with a common pursuit. Cheryl, oldest of the group, would often guide the four in practice rituals and pretend spells, filling the younger boys' minds with fantasies of weaved magic and sorcery that would fix their fragmented lives and grant them all their teenaged minds could dare to imagine. When John was seventeen, he would participate in another such ritual lead by Cheryl, one she treated with hitherto unknown gravitas. This one was different, they could all feel it; Cheryl radiated a solemnity that was undeniable, bringing promises of magical power and great fortune that the four boys were compelled to believe in. The ritual was no fantasy - no pig-english nonsense garbled for cheap thrills, words catching in throats from schoolboy fright - no pound-shop tealights, extinguished accidentally when you waved your arm too enthusiastically. This was the real deal: components scavenged and crafted, specific chants and intonations to be uttered at specific intervals. Words and runes were drawn carefully, positions selected with forethought, and when the hour finally came, all was conjured as it was meant to be - but what the ritual achieved was not what Cheryl had been lead to believe. Unbeknownst to Cheryl, John, Thomas, or even the departed Mary-Anne, the Constantine's bloodline was one of powerful magic and a specific title passed down through ancestry from one Constantine to the next: the Laughing Magician, a wizard unlike any other, who bent the world to their will through the secret power of synchronicity. It was John's stillborn twin, Jacob, that had been the next to inherit this power - but with Jacob's death, powerful wheels had been set it motion to re-right this broken prophecy. Cheryl's previous rituals had been no mere games - they were in fact practice runs, as Cheryl had secretly uncovered her own witchcraft, granted through her bloodline. The ancestral ghosts of Constantine mages had felt this, and spun lies around Cheryl, tricking her into casting a very special spell. The ritual, rather than granting power and fortune, instead opened a terrible gateway to the Astral Plane, through which flooded the warped spirits of long-dead Laughing Magicians. They tormented the attendees, lashing them with psychological scars, and abducted Cheryl wholly into their ethereal, limbo-like plane. When the tear closed, Cheryl was gone, and John was left only with the memory of her screaming, pleading face, surrounded by hundred of hideous spectres. Each in attendance left traumatised, and each experienced their own fallout. Gary turned to drink and drugs, pushing his mind into oblivion rather than live with the memories. Francis fled to London, reinventing himself as 'Chas', a man who'd never experienced such terror. John, for his part, found his psyche fracturing completely, reeling from the loss of Cheryl, and ended up committed and incarcerated at Ravenscar Asylum. Now, two years later and only nineteen years old, John has been remanded from Ravenscar to a temporary residency in a halfway-house for recent releases. Cheryl is still gone, and John remains haunted by her absence; his father refuses to reveal his whereabouts to his only remaining family; and his only friends have scattered to the winds in the intervening years. When fresh hauntings from John's past begin tormenting him anew will he lose what little fragile mind he has left? Or strive to finally put old ghosts to rest? P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) With this John, I'm looking to revise and tighten up a previous origin-story rewrite that paints John a little younger, a little less knowledgeable, but ultimately just as traumatised and, more importantly, cunning. The well-known initial incident with Nergal and Astra - John's defining failue in canon - has been replaced with a more personal catastrophe, tearing apart John's mind as well as the only family he had. With Cheryl abducted to the aether and his friends cast to the wind, John is left to pick up the pieces of his life and find his way back to a sense of normalcy - though of course, Constantine's 'normal' is far removed from your average, everyday 'normal'. With this John and his story, I want to retell how the 'Laughing Magician' won his noteriety in a way that makes this interpretation of the character identifiably 'mine', and from there, build on that foundation to expand his adventures and establish my John in a wider alternative DC 'canon'. |
<Snipped quote by Sep>
It's me, I'm the monkey.
I've honestly outdone myself with this one lads.
<Snipped quote by Roman>
And don't forget to crush the competition.
I welcome competition, not only to encourage others to step outside of their usual wheelhouses, but also to encourage myself to step outside of my usual wheelhouses.
For the record I'm probably looking at Constantine, to the shock of absolutely nobody.
<Snipped quote by Sep>
Well, that's just Super, man.
Time to start working on a 'Bat'-ck up.
I'll have that whipped up in a Flash.
S O N O F S A T A N
D A I M O N H E L S T R O M ♦ O C C U L T I N V E S T I G A T O R ♦ N E W Y O R K C I T Y ♦ I N D E P E N D E N T
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"Bullets? Really? Do you know who I am?"
One day, Victoria Helstrom was whisked into a whirlwind romance beyond her dreams, wooed and seduced by a charismatic, charming gentleman. Their affair was passionate, but inevitably short-lived, and soon Victoria was left alone with infant twins, brother and sister, Daimon and Ana. Life from then on would be difficult, but manageable, and while they had their differences as individuals, the three held firm as a family, taking care of each other and holding love between them.
Then Daimon and Ana turned eighteen, and everything changed. Dark, powerful magic awakened within them both, and their father suddenly reappeared, not having aged a day in the near two-decades since he'd abandoned them, and he returned with momentous news: his human form was a mere illusion, and in truth he was the King of Hell, Satan, The Devil Himself, and he had come to claim Daimon and Ana and grant them their birthright as heirs to the demonic throne. Victoria, for her part, was driven mad, and while Ana - who had dreamed of achieving greatness her entire life - was more than happy to welcome such incredible power, Daimon held nothing but contempt for this presumptuous creature who had invaded his mother's life so many years ago, just to abandon his family and only return to tear it asunder once again. Unlocking his powers of magic and hellfire, Daimon waged considerable battle against his father - eventually, the demon conceded, returning to Hell without Daimon, but with Ana by his side.
In the fallout, Daimon devoted himself to occult investigation, seeking how to strike back at his father and return his sister to Earth, and in the process discovered that his father wasn't Satan at all. Instead, the pool of demons who could have sired him was broad indeed, and whoever his father really was had merely impersonated Satan in a bid to falsely fulfil the prophecy of an Antichrist, who would overthrow the ruler of Hell. Daimon and Ana had merely been pawns in a foolish game of demonic politics, and Daimon cared very little for it.
Now, Daimon works as a freelance investigator, dealing in small personal matters and occult cases, while on the side he continues his research into his true father and the safe return of his sister. Uninterested in his 'birthright' and the machinations of devils, he has little patience for the denizens of Hell who continue to pester him, or indeed anyone in general.
Then Daimon and Ana turned eighteen, and everything changed. Dark, powerful magic awakened within them both, and their father suddenly reappeared, not having aged a day in the near two-decades since he'd abandoned them, and he returned with momentous news: his human form was a mere illusion, and in truth he was the King of Hell, Satan, The Devil Himself, and he had come to claim Daimon and Ana and grant them their birthright as heirs to the demonic throne. Victoria, for her part, was driven mad, and while Ana - who had dreamed of achieving greatness her entire life - was more than happy to welcome such incredible power, Daimon held nothing but contempt for this presumptuous creature who had invaded his mother's life so many years ago, just to abandon his family and only return to tear it asunder once again. Unlocking his powers of magic and hellfire, Daimon waged considerable battle against his father - eventually, the demon conceded, returning to Hell without Daimon, but with Ana by his side.
In the fallout, Daimon devoted himself to occult investigation, seeking how to strike back at his father and return his sister to Earth, and in the process discovered that his father wasn't Satan at all. Instead, the pool of demons who could have sired him was broad indeed, and whoever his father really was had merely impersonated Satan in a bid to falsely fulfil the prophecy of an Antichrist, who would overthrow the ruler of Hell. Daimon and Ana had merely been pawns in a foolish game of demonic politics, and Daimon cared very little for it.
Now, Daimon works as a freelance investigator, dealing in small personal matters and occult cases, while on the side he continues his research into his true father and the safe return of his sister. Uninterested in his 'birthright' and the machinations of devils, he has little patience for the denizens of Hell who continue to pester him, or indeed anyone in general.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
S A M P L E P O S T:
Daimon was certain, more than anything previously in his still-short life, that turning eighteen wasn't supposed to entail almost any of the things that his eyes currently beheld.
The room in front of him was aflame, the walls painted with an eerie orange glow from the fires that crawled along the floor and up the walls. The blaze was already spilling from the doorframe into the upper-story landing, and soon after the entire house would be alight in an inferno that would claim nearly everything Daimon held dear to his heart; the only thing left unscathed would be Victoria, his devoted mother, but even she would be warped into a shell of the strong, steadfast women he had felt protected by his entire childhood. Within the room - his sister's room, he recalled, distinctly remembering watching the various posters and photos curling up from the corners as the flames licked at the paper.
A dark circle appeared to be burned into the floorboards, and on it stood the twisted, hellish creature that had once masqueraded as Daimon's father, a rippling figure of red flesh and stained bone. Multiple eyes, mismatched and strewn across a misshapen face that was more of beast than of man, narrowed in seething rage against his erstwhile heir. In one clawed hand the fiend held Ana, Daimon's sister, clothes scorched and face stained with tears and smoke, hanging limp in the devil's clutches.
Daimon's chest burned bright with a newly-branded pentagram, and he moved his hand to scoop out another gout of fire and heft it in his hand; the weight felt good, and the heat was a pleasant warmth against his palm, despite the warped air he could see emanating around it. He looked at his once-father; he looked at Ana, unconscious and injured; he thought of his mother, catatonic on the street. The flame ignited a brilliant blue, and he hurled the blast at the demon full-force.
This was the last thing Daimon could remember of that fateful night - the fire, his mother, Ana, all struck low by the catastrophe wreaked by an infernal devil; a devil whom, mere hours previous, had posed as their father, attempting to woo them away from their home. He had promised power, wealth, longevity, but when Daimon and Ana had protested - had put to him his failure as a father - had decried his apathetic abandonment of them and their mother - he had determined that he would take by force what they would not submit to him willingly. In the end, his father's return only served to tear asunder completely what Daimon had managed to repair in the nearly two decades since his departure: his family.
Daimon worked freelance now, his mother institutionalized, his sister abducted, no structure or alliances left to depend on. He survived, many a dark night spent pondering why - but the answer was always the same: in search of his father. In search of his sister. In search of revenge.
The room in front of him was aflame, the walls painted with an eerie orange glow from the fires that crawled along the floor and up the walls. The blaze was already spilling from the doorframe into the upper-story landing, and soon after the entire house would be alight in an inferno that would claim nearly everything Daimon held dear to his heart; the only thing left unscathed would be Victoria, his devoted mother, but even she would be warped into a shell of the strong, steadfast women he had felt protected by his entire childhood. Within the room - his sister's room, he recalled, distinctly remembering watching the various posters and photos curling up from the corners as the flames licked at the paper.
A dark circle appeared to be burned into the floorboards, and on it stood the twisted, hellish creature that had once masqueraded as Daimon's father, a rippling figure of red flesh and stained bone. Multiple eyes, mismatched and strewn across a misshapen face that was more of beast than of man, narrowed in seething rage against his erstwhile heir. In one clawed hand the fiend held Ana, Daimon's sister, clothes scorched and face stained with tears and smoke, hanging limp in the devil's clutches.
Daimon's chest burned bright with a newly-branded pentagram, and he moved his hand to scoop out another gout of fire and heft it in his hand; the weight felt good, and the heat was a pleasant warmth against his palm, despite the warped air he could see emanating around it. He looked at his once-father; he looked at Ana, unconscious and injured; he thought of his mother, catatonic on the street. The flame ignited a brilliant blue, and he hurled the blast at the demon full-force.
This was the last thing Daimon could remember of that fateful night - the fire, his mother, Ana, all struck low by the catastrophe wreaked by an infernal devil; a devil whom, mere hours previous, had posed as their father, attempting to woo them away from their home. He had promised power, wealth, longevity, but when Daimon and Ana had protested - had put to him his failure as a father - had decried his apathetic abandonment of them and their mother - he had determined that he would take by force what they would not submit to him willingly. In the end, his father's return only served to tear asunder completely what Daimon had managed to repair in the nearly two decades since his departure: his family.
Daimon worked freelance now, his mother institutionalized, his sister abducted, no structure or alliances left to depend on. He survived, many a dark night spent pondering why - but the answer was always the same: in search of his father. In search of his sister. In search of revenge.
P O S T C A T A L O G:
This section is not necessary, but a procedural listing of your linked posts will make it much easier and more convenient for all involved.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
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