Sep

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

@spicykvnt your dream hathe come to pass. For I hathe posted.

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

YEAR AND A HALF AGO

There was a crack as Conors head hit the cold hard tile floor. He pulled himself up onto his feet, the shackles on his wrists clattered and bit into his flesh. He rushed to the door as it slammed closed. Running straight into it with his shoulder he groaned as the pain shocked through his entire body. "Why don't you come and have a go then?!" He yelled as he pounded against the door. He ignored the pain rocking his body. Kicking the door one final time in frustration, tears welling in his eyes as the rage boiled inside of him. "Never should have come fucking home." He turned to examine his new home. Some form of hard mat for sleeping lay in one corner, a solid steel toilet in another. No windows.

He couldn't help but notice that there was nothing to write with. He continued his scan around the room, looking straight up he saw the camera on the ceiling. Brilliant. He raised his heavy hands towards the ceiling throwing them the finger from both hands. While he did so he took a loser look at the shackles, though that might have been a misnomer. They had no chain between them and were more like bracelets. He could see several glowing runes. He reached down with his left hand and touched a sequence of runes on his upper calf, and as expected instead of the usual rush of vigor and strength pain wracked through his body. Grinding his teeth together Conor tried to stay on his feet until the pain became too much and he fell to his knees.

Julian would be proud of him for testing a theory. That was if he wasn't currently lying in a vegetative state, though to be fair if he wasn't Conor wouldn't have run the team into the ground, go home, and subsequently get captured.

A slot in the door opened revealing an eye that sent a cover down his spine. It was old and inhuman. Conor forced himself to his feet, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen. A slot in the door opened, and through it he could see a figure in shadow holding his staff. The sound that escaped Conors lips was almost as primal and guttural as it was full of pure rage as he saw his staff snap in two, before being folded over and snapped again. He ran forward to the door, stretching his hand through the hole to try and grab something. Anything.

As soon as his hand passed through the door his flesh started to burn and peel. He pulled his hand back, pulling it back to his chest and protecting it with his other one. "You bastard. You'll pay for that!"

A dark and heavy laugh echoed through his cell as the slots in the door closed once again. You're never getting out of here O'Brien. You belong to me now.

---

NOW

His tattered cloak billowed in the wind against the back of his knees. His clothes had seen better days, and as he had worked his way back to Chicago. It had been almost two years since he had left. Some of his smaller, less important storage units had been looted. Some had been sold on and emptied. He was a little disappointed but it wasn't a complete loss. Conor had to admit he was slightly trepidatious about this. This warehouse had his most powerful protective spells, scrolls and books, artifacts, and of course the techno-magi prison that held Elisidur Du Hex. The first mission he ever went on with Julian.

He walked up to the door, shadow crawling around him unnaturally as he did so. Placing his hand on the brick wall he stroked his hand over it in a certain pattern. The door subsequently opened off its own accord. He noticed a cigarette butt on the ground as he waited for the door to open, but thought nothing of it. As the door shimmered as it continued to open his heart sank. Books and tomes were littered all over the floor, shelves were knocked over. Glass broken.

Walking between where the aisles were he could feel the glass crunch beneath his feet. The one part of the room that seemed untouched was the vault door. Walking over to his desk he noticed a hastily written note at the centre.

My bad O'Brien.
Had to borrow a few things.
Demons didn't like that.
Owe you one.
~C

"Fucking English Bastard."

There was only one place he could go now.

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

Just thinking about if we want new people or not and be easier to pick up and organize stuff.

@Theyra

It's upto @Hillan but I agree staying here is fine for now.

If once we're rolling people want we'll shift

No looky loos

YEAR AND A HALF AGO

There was a crack as Conors head hit the cold hard tile floor. He pulled himself up onto his feet, the shackles on his wrists clattered and bit into his flesh. He rushed to the door as it slammed closed. Running straight into it with his shoulder he groaned as the pain shocked through his entire body. "Why don't you come and have a go then?!" He yelled as he pounded against the door. He ignored the pain rocking his body. Kicking the door one final time in frustration, tears welling in his eyes as the rage boiled inside of him. "Never should have come fucking home." He turned to examine his new home. Some form of hard mat for sleeping lay in one corner, a solid steel toilet in another. No windows.

He couldn't help but notice that there was nothing to write with. He continued his scan around the room, looking straight up he saw the camera on the ceiling. Brilliant. He raised his heavy hands towards the ceiling throwing them the finger from both hands. While he did so he took a loser look at the shackles, though that might have been a misnomer. They had no chain between them and were more like bracelets. He could see several glowing runes. He reached down with his left hand and touched a sequence of runes on his upper calf, and as expected instead of the usual rush of vigor and strength pain wracked through his body. Grinding his teeth together Conor tried to stay on his feet until the pain became too much and he fell to his knees.

Julian would be proud of him for testing a theory. That was if he wasn't currently lying in a vegetative state, though to be fair if he wasn't Conor wouldn't have run the team into the ground, go home, and subsequently get captured.

A slot in the door opened revealing an eye that sent a cover down his spine. It was old and inhuman. Conor forced himself to his feet, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen. A slot in the door opened, and through it he could see a figure in shadow holding his staff. The sound that escaped Conors lips was almost as primal and guttural as it was full of pure rage as he saw his staff snap in two, before being folded over and snapped again. He ran forward to the door, stretching his hand through the hole to try and grab something. Anything.

As soon as his hand passed through the door his flesh started to burn and peel. He pulled his hand back, pulling it back to his chest and protecting it with his other one. "You bastard. You'll pay for that!"

A dark and heavy laugh echoed through his cell as the slots in the door closed once again. You're never getting out of here O'Brien. You belong to me now.

---

NOW

His tattered cloak billowed in the wind against the back of his knees. His clothes had seen better days, and as he had worked his way back to Chicago. It had been almost two years since he had left. Some of his smaller, less important storage units had been looted. Some had been sold on and emptied. He was a little disappointed but it wasn't a complete loss. Conor had to admit he was slightly trepidatious about this. This warehouse had his most powerful protective spells, scrolls and books, artifacts, and of course the techno-magi prison that held Elisidur Du Hex. The first mission he ever went on with Julian.

He walked up to the door, shadow crawling around him unnaturally as he did so. Placing his hand on the brick wall he stroked his hand over it in a certain pattern. The door subsequently opened off its own accord. He noticed a cigarette butt on the ground as he waited for the door to open, but thought nothing of it. As the door shimmered as it continued to open his heart sank. Books and tomes were littered all over the floor, shelves were knocked over. Glass broken.

Walking between where the aisles were he could feel the glass crunch beneath his feet. The one part of the room that seemed untouched was the vault door. Walking over to his desk he noticed a hastily written note at the centre.

My bad O'Brien.
Had to borrow a few things.
Demons didn't like that.
Owe you one.
~C

"Fucking English Bastard."

There was only one place he could go now.

No looky loos

Conor "Rune" O'Brien

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

R U N E

---

^{_{C O N O R O'B R I E N ♦ M A L E ♦ 20 ♦ H A G G A R D}}

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

---

^{"No I can't pull a rabbit out of a hat... yet."}

Conor is an Irish born magician born to a magical family amongst a culture of other magical related individuals, they live in secret and keep themselves to themselves. The magical community having removed itself from the 'mortal' world centuries prior. He never aimed to become a hero, or move into the public eye however the fates have strange plans that cannot be anticipated.

While travelling through Central City Conor and his family were targetted by the villain Abra Kadabra due to their actual magical ability, Kadabra recognising Conor due to his future self. In a fit of self-fulfilling prophecies, it was Kadabras action, forcing Conor to publicly use his magic to defend himself. Breaking his families and his peoples highest laws, it was through tearful eyes that his parents left him behind with all the money they could spare in this foreign and unknown land, aged only sixteen. He drifted for a while using what little money he had, spending his time furthering his magical abilities as much he could forming several safe havens and safe spots in his travels, doing good wherever he could.

It was during his escapades as a 'hero' that Conor came onto the Renegades radar. Having a network of traps/tricks set up he used his runes to prevent several muggings before receiving the invitation. On the sly he has been doing his best to interact with the magical community in America, runes being a more unique form of magic (especially in the US) he occasionally assists with magical problems within the sorceror community.

A B I L I T I E S:

---

His non-magical abilities are severely limited. He had no real schooling.

Magic of the Runes: So his magic comes from runes rather than spoken incantations or spells. He imbues these runes with his magic, drawing them as carefully as possible (an incorrectly drawn rune is either useless or potentially dangerous), they remain inactive until certain conditions are met, such as being touched, a certain person touching them, someone being in proximity etc.

Object Runes: Not useful in a pinch these runes can be used to move objects telekinetically, create electric charges, explosions or change the temperature in a space. He is currently working on a binding rune that would hold a person within a certain space making it so they would be unable to move.

Personal Runes: Invisible tattoos cover his body, allowing him to increase his strength/speed, heal himself or even throw bolts of energy. These runes are highly taxing for him to use, and if damaged incredibly hard to replace. He can also be stopped from using them by anything that prevents him from touching them to activate them. His most powerful rune is on the palm of his left hand, with a couple touched in combination a shield extends from the palm of his hand able to block attacks.

He has grown rather attached to a staff he carries that is imbued with the power to throw bolts of fire at his enemies.

Weaknesses: While so long as he continues his studies his power can increase, any rune that draws energy from him leaves him drained after a prolonged fight (The same as physical exertion for a normal human). In terms of runes that draw from the environment, the weakness is that he can't produce them on the fly (simple runes take up to an hour to prepare, more complex one hours) and he needs utmost concentration. Unless he writes them to specifically only allow him to use them, so long as someone knows what they're doing they can also be used against him.

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:

---

My motivation to playing this character is I always had a soft spot for magic, and the stories that can be told in the various magical mythos and I like how DC does it's magic and the various different systems it uses so I really want to play in that wheelhouse with a little twist in there. I really wanted to focus on someone who has the power to be useful, reasonably powerful but also limited. Even if he learns loads of new runes and has them all over his body, you bind him so he can't touch them and he's just a regular kid.

Conors lost right now. Conors life was never going to be anything special, he was going to live it out in the quiet Irish Countryside, marry someone else from the magical community and essentially live out a boring old existence. Abra Kadabra messed that up, and now he doesn't know what he's going to do. While he has always had the drive to do good until recently he's never really seen his magic as a tool to do that. Now he wants to hone his craft and use it to show the world that not only does magic exist, but it can be a force for good. Maybe then, will his family and his people realise that they don't need to hide anymore and more importantly. Allow him to return home.

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

---

This section will be added too as time goes on. In terms of secret identity, Conor doesn't really have any, considering his family are in Ireland and abandoned him. Being part of a reclusive/self-isolating community also helps the fact that he isn't really missed except by those who deem him an exile.

At the edge of the city Conor has taken over a public storage unit which acts as his personal 'library' filled with any magical objects/scrolls/books that he can find.

Objects:

• Necklace: He wears a necklace with some basic protection runes written on them, so long as he's wearing it he is 'slightly' more resistant to attacks. Nothing on the superhuman/supervillain level (atleast not for more than a few seconds). It's keyed to his biology so as long as he is wearing it it's active.
• Staff: His staff has a few runes running along the length off it, capable of spitting bolts of fire or if need be a stream of fire for a few seconds. Overuse will cause the runes to crack, fail and the staff be destroyed. In a fight, it tends to be his primary method of attack rather than relying on his much more draining personal runes.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S:

---

TBA

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

So we don't have an exact timeline but basically Julian got put into a coma by a psychic. Conor tried to lead the team but his poor social skills resulted in issues and he left as the team fell apart.

People can have stayed behind and used the tower obviously

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

<Snipped quote by spicykvnt>

Sep doesn't make jokes.

@Lord Wraith

I do they're just usually mean

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

So we're coming back. If you're still subscribed and want to come back just give us a shout

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

@Lord Wraith accepted by order of me

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

Guess I could do a post...