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DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

What is today but yesterday's tomorrow?

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

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11:00 PM | 'The Chapel' - Uknown, somewhere in the Santa Marta Metro Area

Issue #1.00: Have a Little Faith

♬

A young woman entered the chapel, her cheeks freshly stained with tears. She stumbled into the dark sanctuary, nearly tripping over her own feet with every step. It felt like concrete blocks were tied around her ankles. Exhaustion seeped into every inch of her body, threatening to drag her to the ground at any moment. It'd been the same the whole walk here. Jordanna Spence couldn't remember the last time she slept, or ate, or did anything much at all except wallow in the pain.

Unspeakable, unrivaled pain.

There were other people in the room, yet she was only dimly aware of them. Like silent shadows dancing at the edges of her vision. All were pilgrims like herself, seeking answers in the dark. And it was quite dark here. A handful of tall windows lined the sanctuary but the shutters were locked down tight enough that the light of a full moon could scantly pass through them. The only light source, dim as it was, was a single candle placed atop an 'altar.' In reality, it was little more than an upturned milk crate draped in an old bed sheet. The chapel's original altar, along with the rest of its furniture, had either been smashed to bits by intrepid explorers or withered away by time.

The pilgrims did not mind sitting on the floor, dust and bugs and broken boards be damned. Nothing about the physical space they occupied appeared to bother them. New people shuffling in would bump against them and those seated wouldn't even flinch. Someone would give a sudden scream or babble incoherently in a loud voice and no one would so much as shush them. It was as if their minds were all somewhere else entirely.

Only after reaching their destination did Jordanna's legs buckle. Her knees slammed against the hardwood at a harsh angle; it hurt tremendously, yet she could nary muster the energy to yelp. Tilting her head up let her see that she'd fallen at the step of the altar. She threw her hands back and fell on her rear to escape the candle's light, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. One was not supposed to enter the light while sin still lingered in one's heart.

She wasn't sure how she knew that.

'What am I meant to do now?' She wondered to herself, glancing at the nearest gaggle of people. She couldn't make out many details in the darkness but they looked as ordinary as she did. Their shoes were well-worn and their clothing unremarkable. A few- like her- had a layer of grim stuck to their skin and hair, as if they hadn't showered in days or weeks. She even recognized a few of her neighbors. People she never would've guessed would end up all the way out here in a place like this. Hopelessness could conquer anyone, she supposed.

"You are meant to open yourself up to the possibility, child..." Someone said to her. She snapped back to reality and traced her eyes up their body to a face she couldn't have expected. He was a tall man with a hefty build and a shaggy beard, wrapped up in a decades-old Army jacket. His voice, though, was most striking: he sounded like a woman- like the most beautiful woman Jordanna had never seen.

Jordanna's jaw trembled. Her voice was caught in her throat. All she could do was sit and stare at the man as he answered her thoughts aloud. She had heard the rumors...She wouldn't have come all this way if there wasn't a chance it was true, but...

"Its real." She finally managed to breathe. "God, its all real." She felt a pressure building up in her chest. She was seconds from breaking out in sobs again.

The old man knelt down in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder. His hand was warm- so much so that his warmth began to spill over her, soothing that terrible, aching pain that filled her down to her very bones. Jordanna couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

"Tell me your pain, child. Tell me what brings you to my church." They said.

Shaking, Jordanna reached out to him and he took her hand in his. She looked up into his eyes and poured out her soul to him. "My dad- my dad was sick. So sick. He fought so hard to stay with us-" her voice trembled, and she sounded distraught, but she didn't feel it at all. Jordanna just felt his warmth rushing over her. Trying to fight against it was like trying to swim in a hurricane. Maybe it'd all be better if she just let it take her.

"And you wanted him to come see me." They whispered in reply.

Jordanna nodded emphatically. "I was willing to try anything. Anything at all; no matter how- how crazy it sounded. But my dad, he just..." Tears fell down her cheeks in long, hot streaks, yet still she felt no pain. "He said God would protect him until the cure came to our part of town. He said the doctors were coming- we just had to be patient. He told me not to give up-"

"-Hope." They finished, and Jordanna nodded again. "Your father was a wise man. Hope is our strongest tool against despair. I am sorry I had not gotten to your father in time, child. You were right to point him to me. My touch heals any who wills it to do so. But that is not why you came."

Blinking the tears from her eyes, Jordanna looked up again. The old man looked different now. His eyes were the most brilliant green she'd ever seen. And his face was softer, somehow. She couldn't explain what had changed yet some part of her knew it had.

"His passing took hope from you, and you have lived in despair ever since." Their mouth twisted in a small frown, as if sharing the pain she could not herself feel. "The misery that consumes you is as dangerous as any sickness, child, and if you had not come to me in time it could have taken you as well."

"I just want it to stop hurting so much." The words tumbled out of her mouth like vomit. There was so much pain in her voice, and yet...Jordanna was numb to it. It frightened her.

"I can take it away from you. What you feel now is but a fraction of the healing I can offer." A hand grabbed at Jordanna's chin and tilted her eyes up. It felt like a cloud was holding onto her, even as its grip tightened. "My help costs you nothing, child. All you must do is be willing. Truly willing."

There was a pause. The room was pitch black and silent as the grave- Jordanna couldn't even hear her own breathing. She closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind, yet it raced at a million miles a minute. She had heard the stories, both awe inspiring and terrible. She knew there were risks. She knew if her mother ever found out she was practicing witchcraft that her life was over. But Jordanna had tried living with it. She had tried moving on.

It wasn't working.

This was the only ending where she saw herself live on to fight another day.

'I'm sorry, mom. Dad.'

"Okay."

Jordanna opened her eyes and the old man was gone.

"Welcome to the Church of Many Faces, little sister." The Enchantress smiled down at her. "We have work to do."

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

my post goes up today or you can have my gun AND my badge

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

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

T E E N T I T A N S

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^{_{Garfield Logan ♦ Victor Stone ♦ Stephanie Brown ♦ Tara Markov ♦ Amaya}}

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

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GARFIELD LOGAN is the son of no one, as far as he knows. As the story was told to him, Gar was born green, and his 'condition' led his mother to abandon him on the doorstep of an orphanage for strange and unwanted children. It was owned and operated by the wealthy, eccentric philanthropist Dr. Niles Caulder, it was less of a home and more a house of horrors. Caulder was an abusive, controlling man that thought he could 'heal' people like Gar of their abilities. Garfield spent several years in his clutches before he was pushed to his breaking point and escaped to the streets, where he lives among alley cats and sewer rats...

VICTOR STONE is the son of Silas and Elinore Stone, two STAR Labs scientists dedicated to transcending humanity's biological limitations through cybernetic enhancement. Though their intentions may have been good in the beginning, desperation to see their dream fulfilled brought them to do terrible things to their son in the name of progress. Despite his parents' wishes, Vic ignored academic pursuits in favor of athletic ones. He reached great heights as his team's star quarterback, but it wasn't enough for them. Nothing he did was good enough for them. He'd had enough when his family skipped out on his graduation for one of their 'projects', and decided to confront them. Something went horribly wrong when he got there, and the lab was consumed by an explosion. Many staff members were injured or killed, Elinore among them, and Victor was severely injured. In order to save his son's life, Silas was forced to repair him with the same highly experimental technology that had caused it...

STEPHANIE BROWN is the only daughter of Arthur Brown, better known to the world at large by his pseudonym: Cluemaster. Cluemaster was a brutal serial murderer that was active in Blüdhaven between the late nineties and mid twenty-tens, carving out a path of blood and vengeance through its criminal underworld. Many hailed him as a hero finally bringing justice to a corrupt and broken city, while others saw him for what he really was: a violent and deranged man looking for any excuse to kill. Steph was meant to be Arthur's prodigy. He trained her with the hope that one day she'd take up his righteous cause as well. Yet when the day came for her to kill, Steph found herself unable, and chose to report him and flee. Since then she's moved in with her estranged mother on the other side of the country, promising herself she'd live a normal life...

TARA MARKOV is the bastard child of Viktor Markov, King of Markovia, and one of his many consorts. Though she grew up in the lap of luxury, she was never accepted by her family: the king had no time for her and the queen and her children despised Tara for the circumstances of her birth. They would pick at and torment her at every opportunity, and she responded by lashing out, sometimes violently. Life in the palace was tense for many years, but Viktor refused to police his family's behavior, and was unwilling to throw Tara out. It may have been sustainable if Tara hadn't developed superpowers. She tore half the building apart before the royal guard could restrain her. In an effort to cover up her abilities and keep from causing a panic, the royal family had Tara banished to the Americas and offered her a swell of wealth to keep from causing trouble. Of course, if anyone could be trusted to keep out of trouble, it'd be Tara Markov...

AMAYA is the last member of the House of Amethyst. Her family was slaughtered by a great and terrible sorcerer, Dark Opal, who sought usurp the Council of Twelve and claim sole rulership over their home of Gemworld- a place of magic and wonder separated from Earth by a single, thin plane. Amaya only survived thanks to the intervene of a strange witch known as Citrina, who whisked her away to safety. She would train the princess in the ways of magic and war in the hopes that she might return to topple Opal and bring peace back to Gemworld one day. It wasn't long before Amaya's patience grew thin and she chose to set out on her winged steed to confront the dark sorcerer that took her family from her...

Though they don't know it yet, these five would-be heroes find their paths fated to cross. A sinister, quasi-religious movement is rising in the streets of San Fransisco, threatening the lives of its ignored and unwanted youths. The police don't care if a couple of homeless teenagers go missing. What's being called the 'Church of Many Faces' is written off as little more than superstitious tales from overactive minds. Disaster waits if someone doesn't act, so...

^{"Somebody's gotta give a shit. Why not, y'know, us?"}

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:

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The Teen Titans TV show was my first introduction to superheroes as a child, outside of seeing Spider-Man on a backpack once or twice, and its still one of my absolute favorite pieces of media, period. And something I've always loved writing is the 'dysfunctional family of flawed weirdos just looking to make a difference in the world' trope. That idea has permeated basically everything I've ever written, for reasons I'm sure are entirely unrelated, so I'm pretty stoked to give a version of the team a go, especially in a 'Year One' scenario where I have near total creative freedom.

I'm drawing a lot of inspiration from the Doom Patrol web series, Umbrella Academy, and obviously the Teen Titans, Young Justice and X-Men comic books. I want to tell a story that- hopefully- resonates with those same core ideas of family and finding your place in the world.

Each of the characters have their own motivations for joining the team and wanting to put Brother Blood down, but all of them reflect those same two desires in some way as well: Gar is hurt and traumatized both by his time at Caulder's fun house and by his initial abandonment, and he's desperate for human connection. Vic barely feels like a person anymore after his transformation. He spent his whole life having someone else's dream forced on him, and in the first moment he felt in control destiny chose to rip it away from him. Steph similarly feels like her life has been wholly defined by her fucked up relationship with her father, but even as she gets the normal life that she wants, something's pulling her back to vigilantism. Meanwhile, Tara is more than happy to drink and party herself to death just to bury the mountains of trauma that came with being the superpowered bastard child of an absolute monarch. And Amaya, whose terrible loss and supposed destiny has driven her to throw herself at an enemy infinitely more powerful than her, convinced fate will protect her- and because she doesn't know what she'll do if, by some chance, she's wrong.

'Kids with daddy issues' also works, i guess

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

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Dramatis Personae

Allies

Contacts list contains an emergency number for Steph's mom and the nearest pizza place.

Villains

Enchantress: Founder of the newly formed Church of Many Faces. Not much is known about her as the Church's members are incredibly secretive, and those few that manage to slip away from its grasp never survive long enough to tell the tale. Wildly conflicting descriptions of appearance, possibly multiple 'Enchantress's'.' Assumed to either be a huckster, or a being of incredible magical potential.

Slade: An international man of mystery and an assassin for hire by the highest bidder, Slade has no loyalty to anyone but himself. Should be assumed to have at least three ulterior motives at all times. He's developed a reputation for dealing with particularly difficult contracts that any sane mercenary would shy away from. Highly skilled, highly dangerous, highly secretive. Not one whose path you should willingly cross.

Damien Darhk: Newest headmaster at H.I.V.E and of a particularly nasty character. Cunning, manipulative, and well-connected, nothing goes on in the American underworld without his knowing about it. Obsessively chases after new ways to increase his power and status. Rumored to have disappeared the last headmaster personally. Powers include hypnosis and physical enhancement. Moderately attractive.

Dark Opal: A centuries old sorcerer and the next in a long line of evil, conniving sons of bitches to lead the House of Opal. He's long been a thorn in the side of the Council of Twelve, his ambitions to rule Gemworld alone well known to them- yet tradition and naivety kept them from moving against him until it was already too late. Likely the most powerful being in the plane since Lady Mordiel's death at his hands.

Cluemaster: Serial murderer, abusive father, psychopathic butcher, and all around not-great dude. The best thing Arthur Brown ever did was have Stephanie. He's deluded himself into thinking he's some great hero carrying out the justice others are too weak and corrupt to commit. After Steph reported his activities to the police he was forced to go underground and likely hasn't killed in the years since. Could be retired for good...probably not, though.

Supporting Cast

Viktor Markov: Current king of Markovia and absent father.

Ilona DeLamb-Markov: Abusive bitch.

Brion Markov: Next in line if Gregor bites it, most likely to kill him to get the throne. Somehow less bad than Gregor. Twin.

Gregor Markov: Crown prince, massive asshole. Twin.

Crystal Brown: Stephanie's mom and the ex-wife of the Cluemaster. Doctor working at Saint Agnes Memorial Hospital. Patient and kind enough that she should probably be canonized too.

Niles Caulder: Dogged believer that superpowers were God's mistake. Multi-millionaire that opened an orphanage and dedicated his life to torturing every poor, haggard soul who happened to be dumped on his doorstep for being different from the other kids. Possibly good intentions, but difficult to tell between the tears.

Silas Stone: Victor's father and a world renowned scientist on the bleeding edge of cybernetic research, working with technology science fiction authors once dreamed of. Ultimately wants to be responsible for the next, great leap in human progress. Also experimented on his only son and possibly responsible for the accident that took his wife's life.

Citrina: Old witch that trained Lady Mordiel when she was just a girl. Managed to rescue Princess Amaya before Dark Opal could put a permanent end to the Amethyst family line. Worried sick ever since said princess ran off to fight said dark lord all on her own.

Titan's Codex

Where I put all the shit that we'll need to remember. Locations, worldbuilding, favorite food, ect.

Locations

Santa Marta: Santa Marta, California is a coastal city loosely based on Santa Barbara, Los Angeles and San Francisco. Its population of 1.5 million people is split between five major districts: Downtown, Sunrise Heights, Hackett Point, East Warrens, and, its largest district, Queen's Valley AKA The Groin.

Bludhaven: Former home of Steph Brown and the hunting ground of serial killer, Cluemaster. Somehow only the second highest murder rate in New Jersey.

Gemworld: Alternate dimension adjacent to our own reality. Magic is commonplace. Ruled by a council of the twelve oldest noble houses in the realm, who united a thousand years ago in an effort to end their constant warring and vying for power. Only managed to succeed with the former.

Markovia: Tiny Eastern European nation led by an absolute monarch, Viktor Markov. A footnote in most geography classes.

Organizations

HIVE: TBD

STAR Labs: TBD

Brotherhood of Evil: TBD

The Fearsome Five: TBD

S A M P L E P O S T:

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sample post

T H E G R O I N

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^{12:00 AM | Santa Marta, California}
'My name is Stephanie Brown, and I have work tomorrow morning.'

It was late into the night but 'The Groin' was just waking up. That was what the locals called Santa Marta's entertainment district on the south side of the Reprieve River. Every time Steph asked where the name came from she'd get different answers. One guy explained that if you look at Santa Marta on a map, it looks like a person. And if you thought of the Reprieve as a belt, this area was...well, y'know. Another woman said it had something to do with that terrible, musky odor that emanated from every street corner, apartment block and parking lot. Someone else said it was because of all the prostitutes.

She figured the name was old enough that no one actually remembered where it came from. Santa Marta was an old city filled with secrets long buried.

'Someone else should handle this. It shouldn't have to be me.'

This place had a habit of forgetting its most uncomfortable parts. It turned away from stories that might hurt its reputation to tourists, and hoped its troubles dealt with themselves. But loath as she was to admit it, Steph knew that wasn't how this worked. Bludhaven- her old home- proved that. Problems needed problem solvers.

Steph shifted from crouching on one knee to the other to keep it from falling asleep. She turned her wrist over and glanced at her watch. Hour two of her stakeout had just ticked by, with little to show for the effort. There was no unusual activity in the vicinity of Casanova's Coffin, The Groin's premier Goth-themed nightclub. It was consistent with what she observed over the weekend. A couple of fights, money and illicit substances exchanging hands and no small amount of sex work, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing like the stories she'd been hearing out of this place.

The binoculars fell away from her face so she could rub the bleariness from her eyes. She was staring out of them long enough that she swore she was starting to see double. This felt like such a waste of time. She had work in seven hours- no, six and a half hours, now. And she hadn't seen even a scrap of evidence that this 'Church of Many Faces' was working out of Casanova's to lure kids in and whisk them into the night. The stories were crazy. Maybe she was crazy for believing them.

'I told mom- I told myself- that I'd stay outta trouble from now on. That I wouldn't do this stuff anymore. Annnddd yet, here I am...God, I'm so-'

A sharp crash drew her attention back to the real world. Something had knocked a garbage can over in the alleyway behind the nightclub, scattering trash over the sidewalk. Stephanie raised a curious brow and lifted the binoculars up again, but whatever had done it had already disappeared down the alley. It was probably nothing. Probably a dog, or some drunken bum taking a wrong turn. Still...

"Alright," she muttered to herself under her breath. "We check this one thing out and if its nothing, we go home. I'm not spending my morning shift at Big Belly Burger half dead on my feet."

Tossing her things back into her backpack and flinging it over her shoulder, Stephanie took off at a run for the fire escape on the neighboring roof. She leapt the gap, her hands outstretched in front of her, palms colliding hard against the bars a second later. Grip tightening, can't fall now. Half slipping, half climbing, she scrambled down the fire escape to side street beneath her perch. It wasn't pretty, but it got the job done.

None of the people meandering around the Casanova noticed Stephanie dart across the street. She found the tiniest shadows and darkest corners and slid between them, quiet as a mouse. By the time she made it into the back alley, she'd vanished completely.

It was dark and stunk of death. Dumpsters and mismatching garbage cans lined the right hand side of the alley, pressed up against the wall of an apartment complex. On the other side was the nightclub, its broken, neon sign washing everything in a dull, pink sheen. Broken bottles, needles and old cigarette butts were scattered across the poorly paved concrete. Steph saw it all from the shadows she hid in, but there was no sign of what had come through here before her.

A flash of color, just in the corner of her vision. Something green dove behind a pile of trash bags. A piece of fabric, maybe, or a...tail? But-

The backdoor to Casanova's creaked open, worn down hinges screeching like a banshee. Two young men shuffled out, hand in hand, paranoid eyes scanning the alley for witnesses. Steph retreated further into her nook, a pang of guilt causing her cheeks to flush. This was nothing. Of course it was nothing. She shouldn't be here.

"I hate this. I hate that we have to do this." One of them spoke, their voice broken, seething.

The other turned, facing his partner. "I know, I know! Me too. But...But not for much longer. This-" he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a folded up piece of paper. He held with enormous care, like it was the most valuable thing in the world. "-This is our ticket outta here, okay? They help people like us."

The first shook his head, slowly. "He said that, but, like, you've heard what people say about them-"

"They say a lot of shit about people like us, too." He let out a sigh. It was heavy. And pained. "I'ont like it much either, but its all we've got right now. We don't have any other choice. If we wanna get outta here someday..."

The two went on talking in hushed voices as they started out of the alleyway. Steph waited, crouched, as they walked past her, seemingly unaware of her presence. She watched, but not them. Her eyes tracked the paper in his hand. She did her best to slow her rapidly beating heart and waited with baited breath. Just a little closer, now.

'There!'

A symbol printed on the top of the page. Two crescent moons placed opposite one another, and shaded in such a way that, if one looked close enough, two distinct faces appeared between them. That marking was on every invitation to join the Church of Many Faces. It was one of the few, consistent details in every story she'd heard about them, and it was real!

'Ha, I knew it! I knew it and I never doubted myself, not even for a second!'

She must've let some, tiny noise slip between her lips while she was celebrating, because one of the boys turned around and looked right in her direction. She cursed to herself over and over as she followed his eyes as they tracked along the dumpsters she had managed to slip between. The other guy came to her rescue, pulling him along before he could decide whether or not he'd imagined it.

A sleeve moved up to wipe the sweat from her brow. 'Too close, Steph. Keep it together.'

Once the two had rounded the corner and were out of earshot, she climbed up from her hide-y hole and raced up the steps to the backdoor. The doorknob clicked when she went to knock. Locked, naturally. Without a keyhole to stick a lockpick in she was forced to find another way in. Something scurried by her leg. There was a window on the Third floor that someone left cracked, and smoke was wafting out of it. Tricky. If she climbed all the way up there and didn't find an opportunity to slip inside, she'd have no way down that didn't involve snapping her ankles-

The door clicked, and she panicked, stumbling down the stairs until she came crashing down on her ass with a subdued yelp. Steph sat there for what felt like hours, waiting for someone to step out and catch her in the act, but no one came. It just...hung open.

"Bad lock, maybe?" She asked aloud, not sure if she was buying her own bullshit but unwilling to retreat now. Too far in to run, she told herself. Now she knew for sure something was happening, and Stephanie Brown could never live with herself if she ran away now.

Back on her feet, she slipped through the door and into a poorly lit hallway. An odd combination of Gothic organs and techno music was playing faintly from the main room. Steph skulked forward, keeping low, one hand in the back pocket she kept all her emergency goodies in.

Several doors lined each side of the hall, but only one of them was open, if only cracked. She couldn't see much inside save for some tiling on the wall. A bathroom, in all likelihood. She could hear muffled voices on the other side. They were too quiet or too far away- maybe both- to make out. Slowly, silently, she crept up to the door and placed her ear against it.

A hand shot through the opening and took her by the shirt, simultaneously throwing the door open and dragging her inside as she let out a surprised yelp.

The hand belonged to a big man, nearly as wide as he was tall. The black shirt he wore marked him as security in bold, white letters. His arms were covered in bulging veins, thick as steel cables, and a myriad of tattoos with little artistic cohesion or direction; the only one her eyes went to, however, was the pair of crescent moons on his wrist.

"Let go of me, roidrage!" She snarled, smashing a clenched fist straight into his nose with enough force to topple a rhino. It broke, splaying blood all over his mustache and chin. He didn't so much as blink.

Another apparent security guard stepped up beside him, just as large though more rotund than muscular. His head was so perfectly smooth that the overhead lights reflected off of it. And just like his 'roided out friend, his expression was utterly blank.

She gulped, shifting uncomfortably where she hung. They were both staring at her. Neither said a word, or made any move to throw her out or kick her ass. Steph glanced between them, finally seeing what unnerved her so about them: each of them had a subtle, greenish glow about their eyes. If she wasn't so damn close to them Steph was sure she would've missed it, but given how intently they stared back at her, it was impossible to miss.

"Well, fellas, it looks like we've officially crossed over into the Twilight Zone." She laughed, thoroughly terrified for what might come next. "Is this is the part where I ask you to take me to your leader, or the part where I get probed? Because, lemme tell ya, I do not do well with-"

"Quiet now, little bird. There will be time enough for that later." A voice came from behind the guards, sickly in its pleasantness, and a figure appeared from out of a stall shortly after. He was shorter than both of his peers but still two or three inches taller than Stephanie, but his form was obscured by the coat he wore. It was thick, like it was made for winter weather, and long, reaching past his knees. A big, puffy hood was pulled up, casting his face in shadow- all that stuck out of it was a long, crooked nose, like he was the Wicked Witch of The West.

"Pet names, really? You could buy me dinner first, at least." Steph talked to him, but kept her eyes on the immediate threats in front of her. "How'd you know I was here?"

"We did not," he admitted with what may've been a shrug. "We expected to find the green one, but destiny has chosen to reveal another player in our little game."

This time she looked at him, brow raised. "Green one?"

Something made the ceiling creak. Everyone in the room turned toward the back, where a tile was suddenly bending under the weight of something very big, until it finally snapped in two. The lights blinked in and out, bits of material were scattered everywhere. Someone screamed, and something else roared in response. It was too chaotic for Steph to make out what was happening, but she knew she had a brief window of opportunity to exploit it.

A hand shot down into her pocket, producing a pellet roughly the size of a quarter, and she proceeded to toss it directly into the face of her captor. It exploded, sparks lighting up the air and smoke billowing in all directions. It put him off-kilter enough for her to interweave her fingers and slam them into his wrist, bashing it over and over until he was forced to let go.

Now the lights were flashing, people were screaming, and there was smoke everywhere, but at least she was free.

"Know what time it is?" She slipped back into the smoke in a crouch, waiting until Roidrage's back came into view. "Its ass-kick o'clock!" She leapt up at him, arms wrapping around his bulging neck like a vice. Too big and too out of it to have a knock down, drag out fight with. Had to cut off the blood flow to his brain, take him down quick and easy before whatever else was in here finished with Baldy.

Easier said than done, though, as the big man's big hands reached over and took her by the hair. He pulled on it, and rather than lose a chunk of her locks, Steph chose to scramble up his back. Another of his hands came around to grab her and Roidrage started to flip her around, apparently intent on crushing her between his arms.

Her feet hit the wall before he could finish turning her around, putting him in the rather awkward position of holding her over his head. "Not today, pal!" She kicked off, sending him stumbling backward to keep from falling over. For the second time she was able to slip his grip, falling to the ground just in time to sweep his legs and ensure his noggin made contact with the sink. Porcelain cracked and water sprayed everywhere as he lay in a heap, unconscious and down for the count.

'One down, two more to go-oohh no.'

The lights had decided to come back on just as Steph was turning around to face her next opponent, and she found herself face to face with a tiger. An actual, in-the-flesh tiger. The seven-foot-long-and-six-hundred-pounds-of-muscle kind of tiger. And it had either killed or knocked out Baldy, and was now standing on top of the other creep and staring directly at her. Somehow the tiger being here wasn't the weirdest part of this situation, either.

"So, uhm, I'm guessing you're the green one he mentioned earlier?" She stuttered out. Like the massive idiot she was, she had her hands out in front of her, ready to throw down in The Octagon with it, or something.

Santa Marta was an old city full of secrets; it had a nasty habit of burying the uncomfortable ones. Steph wasn't so sure this one was going to let itself be buried.

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

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Issue #1: Have a Little Faith
-1.00

IF I HAD ANY

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

My sheet now has a sample post!

Also, in advance:

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

Saturday gives me more time to finish my sample post, so I vote for that :P

EDIT: wait I can’t vote in this election oh god oh fuck voter fraud-

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

My Teen Titans sheet. Its a work in progress, though all that's left is a sample post and character notes, and maybe some touching up here and there.

wip

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

T E E N T I T A N S

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^{_{Garfield Logan ♦ Victor Stone ♦ Stephanie Brown ♦ Tara Markov ♦ Amaya}}

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

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GARFIELD LOGAN is the son of no one, as far as he knows. As the story was told to him, Gar was born green, and his 'condition' led his mother to abandon him on the doorstep of an orphanage for strange and unwanted children. It was owned and operated by the wealthy, eccentric philanthropist Dr. Niles Caulder, it was less of a home and more a house of horrors. Caulder was an abusive, controlling man that thought he could 'heal' people like Gar of their abilities. Garfield spent several years in his clutches before he was pushed to his breaking point and escaped to the streets, where he lives among alley cats and sewer rats...

VICTOR STONE is the son of Silas and Elinore Stone, two STAR Labs scientists dedicated to transcending humanity's biological limitations through cybernetic enhancement. Though their intentions may have been good in the beginning, desperation to see their dream fulfilled brought them to do terrible things to their son in the name of progress. Despite his parents' wishes, Vic ignored academic pursuits in favor of athletic ones. He reached great heights as his team's star quarterback, but it wasn't enough for them. Nothing he did was good enough for them. He'd had enough when his family skipped out on his graduation for one of their 'projects', and decided to confront them. Something went horribly wrong when he got there, and the lab was consumed by an explosion. Many staff members were injured or killed, Elinore among them, and Victor was severely injured. In order to save his son's life, Silas was forced to repair him with the same highly experimental technology that had caused it...

STEPHANIE BROWN is the only daughter of Arthur Brown, better known to the world at large by his pseudonym: Cluemaster. Cluemaster was a brutal serial murderer that was active in Blüdhaven between the late nineties and mid twenty-tens, carving out a path of blood and vengeance through its criminal underworld. Many hailed him as a hero finally bringing justice to a corrupt and broken city, while others saw him for what he really was: a violent and deranged man looking for any excuse to kill. Steph was meant to be Arthur's prodigy. He trained her with the hope that one day she'd take up his righteous cause as well. Yet when the day came for her to kill, Steph found herself unable, and chose to report him and flee. Since then she's moved in with her estranged mother on the other side of the country, promising herself she'd live a normal life...

TARA MARKOV is the bastard child of Viktor Markov, King of Markovia, and one of his many consorts. Though she grew up in the lap of luxury, she was never accepted by her family: the king had no time for her and the queen and her children despised Tara for the circumstances of her birth. They would pick at and torment her at every opportunity, and she responded by lashing out, sometimes violently. Life in the palace was tense for many years, but Viktor refused to police his family's behavior, and was unwilling to throw Tara out. It may have been sustainable if Tara hadn't developed superpowers. She tore half the building apart before the royal guard could restrain her. In an effort to cover up her abilities and keep from causing a panic, the royal family had Tara banished to the Americas and offered her a swell of wealth to keep from causing trouble. Of course, if anyone could be trusted to keep out of trouble, it'd be Tara Markov...

AMAYA is the last member of the House of Amethyst. Her family was slaughtered by a great and terrible sorcerer, Dark Opal, who sought usurp the Council of Twelve and claim sole rulership over their home of Gemworld- a place of magic and wonder separated from Earth by a single, thin plane. Amaya only survived thanks to the intervene of a strange witch known as Citrina, who whisked her away to safety. She would train the princess in the ways of magic and war in the hopes that she might return to topple Opal and bring peace back to Gemworld one day. It wasn't long before Amaya's patience grew thin and she chose to set out on her winged steed to confront the dark sorcerer that took her family from her...

Though they don't know it yet, these five would-be heroes find their paths fated to cross. A sinister, quasi-religious movement is rising in the streets of San Fransisco, threatening the lives of its ignored and unwanted youths. The police don't care if a couple of homeless teenagers go missing. What's being called the 'Church of Many Faces' is written off as little more than superstitious tales from overactive minds. Disaster waits if someone doesn't act, so...

^{"Somebody's gotta give a shit. Why not, y'know, us?"}

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:

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The Teen Titans TV show was my first introduction to superheroes as a child, outside of seeing Spider-Man on a backpack once or twice, and its still one of my absolute favorite pieces of media, period. And something I've always loved writing is the 'dysfunctional family of flawed weirdos just looking to make a difference in the world' trope. That idea has permeated basically everything I've ever written, for reasons I'm sure are entirely unrelated, so I'm pretty stoked to give a version of the team a go, especially in a 'Year One' scenario where I have near total creative freedom.

I'm drawing a lot of inspiration from the Doom Patrol web series, Umbrella Academy, and obviously the Teen Titans, Young Justice and X-Men comic books. I want to tell a story that- hopefully- resonates with those same core ideas of family and finding your place in the world.

Each of the characters have their own motivations for joining the team and wanting to put Brother Blood down, but all of them reflect those same two desires in some way as well: Gar is hurt and traumatized both by his time at Caulder's fun house and by his initial abandonment, and he's desperate for human connection. Vic barely feels like a person anymore after his transformation. He spent his whole life having someone else's dream forced on him, and in the first moment he felt in control destiny chose to rip it away from him. Steph similarly feels like her life has been wholly defined by her fucked up relationship with her father, but even as she gets the normal life that she wants, something's pulling her back to vigilantism. Meanwhile, Tara is more than happy to drink and party herself to death just to bury the mountains of trauma that came with being the superpowered bastard child of an absolute monarch. And Amaya, whose terrible loss and supposed destiny has driven her to throw herself at an enemy infinitely more powerful than her, convinced fate will protect her- and because she doesn't know what she'll do if, by some chance, she's wrong.

'Kids with daddy issues' also works, i guess

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

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Dramatis Personae

Allies

Contacts list contains an emergency number for Steph's mom and the nearest pizza place.

Villains

Enchantress: Founder of the newly formed Church of Many Faces. Not much is known about her as the Church's members are incredibly secretive, and those few that manage to slip away from its grasp never survive long enough to tell the tale. Wildly conflicting descriptions of appearance, possibly multiple 'Enchantress's'.' Assumed to either be a huckster, or a being of incredible magical potential.

Slade: An international man of mystery and an assassin for hire by the highest bidder, Slade has no loyalty to anyone but himself. Should be assumed to have at least three ulterior motives at all times. He's developed a reputation for dealing with particularly difficult contracts that any sane mercenary would shy away from. Highly skilled, highly dangerous, highly secretive. Not one whose path you should willingly cross.

Damien Darhk: Newest headmaster at H.I.V.E and of a particularly nasty character. Cunning, manipulative, and well-connected, nothing goes on in the American underworld without his knowing about it. Obsessively chases after new ways to increase his power and status. Rumored to have disappeared the last headmaster personally. Powers include hypnosis and physical enhancement. Moderately attractive.

Dark Opal: A centuries old sorcerer and the next in a long line of evil, conniving sons of bitches to lead the House of Opal. He's long been a thorn in the side of the Council of Twelve, his ambitions to rule Gemworld alone well known to them- yet tradition and naivety kept them from moving against him until it was already too late. Likely the most powerful being in the plane since Lady Mordiel's death at his hands.

Cluemaster: Serial murderer, abusive father, psychopathic butcher, and all around not-great dude. The best thing Arthur Brown ever did was have Stephanie. He's deluded himself into thinking he's some great hero carrying out the justice others are too weak and corrupt to commit. After Steph reported his activities to the police he was forced to go underground and likely hasn't killed in the years since. Could be retired for good...probably not, though.

Supporting Cast

Viktor Markov: Current king of Markovia and absent father.

Ilona DeLamb-Markov: Abusive bitch.

Brion Markov: Next in line if Gregor bites it, most likely to kill him to get the throne. Somehow less bad than Gregor. Twin.

Gregor Markov: Crown prince, massive asshole. Twin.

Crystal Brown: Stephanie's mom and the ex-wife of the Cluemaster. Doctor working at Saint Agnes Memorial Hospital. Patient and kind enough that she should probably be canonized too.

Niles Caulder: Dogged believer that superpowers were God's mistake. Multi-millionaire that opened an orphanage and dedicated his life to torturing every poor, haggard soul who happened to be dumped on his doorstep for being different from the other kids. Possibly good intentions, but difficult to tell between the tears.

Silas Stone: Victor's father and a world renowned scientist on the bleeding edge of cybernetic research, working with technology science fiction authors once dreamed of. Ultimately wants to be responsible for the next, great leap in human progress. Also experimented on his only son and possibly responsible for the accident that took his wife's life.

Citrina: Old witch that trained Lady Mordiel when she was just a girl. Managed to rescue Princess Amaya before Dark Opal could put a permanent end to the Amethyst family line. Worried sick ever since said princess ran off to fight said dark lord all on her own.

Titan's Codex

Where I put all the shit that we'll need to remember. Locations, worldbuilding, favorite food, ect.

Locations

San Fransisco: Home to forty-six million people, and one superhero team.

Bludhaven: Former home of Steph Brown and the hunting ground of serial killer, Cluemaster. Somehow only the second highest murder rate in New Jersey.

Gemworld: Alternate dimension adjacent to our own reality. Magic is commonplace. Ruled by a council of the twelve oldest noble houses in the realm, who united a thousand years ago in an effort to end their constant warring and vying for power. Only managed to succeed with the former.

Markovia: Tiny Eastern European nation led by an absolute monarch, Viktor Markov. A footnote in most geography classes.

Organizations

HIVE: TBD

STAR Labs: TBD

Brotherhood of Evil: TBD

The Fearsome Five: TBD

S A M P L E P O S T:

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sample post

T H E G R O I N

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^{12:00 AM | Santa Marta, California}
'My name is Stephanie Brown, and I have work tomorrow morning.'

It was late into the night but 'The Groin' was just waking up. That was what the locals called Santa Marta's entertainment district on the south side of the Reprieve River. Every time Steph asked where the name came from she'd get different answers. One guy explained that if you look at Santa Marta on a map, it looks like a person. And if you thought of the Reprieve as a belt, this area was...well, y'know. Another woman said it had something to do with that terrible, musky odor that emanated from every street corner, apartment block and parking lot. Someone else said it was because of all the prostitutes.

She figured the name was old enough that no one actually remembered where it came from. Santa Marta was an old city filled with secrets long buried.

'Someone else should handle this. It shouldn't have to be me.'

This place had a habit of forgetting its most uncomfortable parts. It turned away from stories that might hurt its reputation to tourists, and hoped its troubles dealt with themselves. But loath as she was to admit it, Steph knew that wasn't how this worked. Bludhaven- her old home- proved that. Problems needed problem solvers.

Steph shifted from crouching on one knee to the other to keep it from falling asleep. She turned her wrist over and glanced at her watch. Hour two of her stakeout had just ticked by, with little to show for the effort. There was no unusual activity in the vicinity of Casanova's Coffin, The Groin's premier Goth-themed nightclub. It was consistent with what she observed over the weekend. A couple of fights, money and illicit substances exchanging hands and no small amount of sex work, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing like the stories she'd been hearing out of this place.

The binoculars fell away from her face so she could rub the bleariness from her eyes. She was staring out of them long enough that she swore she was starting to see double. This felt like such a waste of time. She had work in seven hours- no, six and a half hours, now. And she hadn't seen even a scrap of evidence that this 'Church of Many Faces' was working out of Casanova's to lure kids in and whisk them into the night. The stories were crazy. Maybe she was crazy for believing them.

'I told mom- I told myself- that I'd stay outta trouble from now on. That I wouldn't do this stuff anymore. Annnddd yet, here I am...God, I'm so-'

A sharp crash drew her attention back to the real world. Something had knocked a garbage can over in the alleyway behind the nightclub, scattering trash over the sidewalk. Stephanie raised a curious brow and lifted the binoculars up again, but whatever had done it had already disappeared down the alley. It was probably nothing. Probably a dog, or some drunken bum taking a wrong turn. Still...

"Alright," she muttered to herself under her breath. "We check this one thing out and if its nothing, we go home. I'm not spending my morning shift at Big Belly Burger half dead on my feet."

Tossing her things back into her backpack and flinging it over her shoulder, Stephanie took off at a run for the fire escape on the neighboring roof. She leapt the gap, her hands outstretched in front of her, palms colliding hard against the bars a second later. Grip tightening, can't fall now. Half slipping, half climbing, she scrambled down the fire escape to side street beneath her perch. It wasn't pretty, but it got the job done.

None of the people meandering around the Casanova noticed Stephanie dart across the street. She found the tiniest shadows and darkest corners and slid between them, quiet as a mouse. By the time she made it into the back alley, she'd vanished completely.

It was dark and stunk of death. Dumpsters and mismatching garbage cans lined the right hand side of the alley, pressed up against the wall of an apartment complex. On the other side was the nightclub, its broken, neon sign washing everything in a dull, pink sheen. Broken bottles, needles and old cigarette butts were scattered across the poorly paved concrete. Steph saw it all from the shadows she hid in, but there was no sign of what had come through here before her.

A flash of color, just in the corner of her vision. Something green dove behind a pile of trash bags. A piece of fabric, maybe, or a...tail? But-

The backdoor to Casanova's creaked open, worn down hinges screeching like a banshee. Two young men shuffled out, hand in hand, paranoid eyes scanning the alley for witnesses. Steph retreated further into her nook, a pang of guilt causing her cheeks to flush. This was nothing. Of course it was nothing. She shouldn't be here.

"I hate this. I hate that we have to do this." One of them spoke, their voice broken, seething.

The other turned, facing his partner. "I know, I know! Me too. But...But not for much longer. This-" he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a folded up piece of paper. He held with enormous care, like it was the most valuable thing in the world. "-This is our ticket outta here, okay? They help people like us."

The first shook his head, slowly. "He said that, but, like, you've heard what people say about them-"

"They say a lot of shit about people like us, too." He let out a sigh. It was heavy. And pained. "I'ont like it much either, but its all we've got right now. We don't have any other choice. If we wanna get outta here someday..."

The two went on talking in hushed voices as they started out of the alleyway. Steph waited, crouched, as they walked past her, seemingly unaware of her presence. She watched, but not them. Her eyes tracked the paper in his hand. She did her best to slow her rapidly beating heart and waited with baited breath. Just a little closer, now.

'There!'

A symbol printed on the top of the page. Two crescent moons placed opposite one another, and shaded in such a way that, if one looked close enough, two distinct faces appeared between them. That marking was on every invitation to join the Church of Many Faces. It was one of the few, consistent details in every story she'd heard about them, and it was real!

'Ha, I knew it! I knew it and I never doubted myself, not even for a second!'

She must've let some, tiny noise slip between her lips while she was celebrating, because one of the boys turned around and looked right in her direction. She cursed to herself over and over as she followed his eyes as they tracked along the dumpsters she had managed to slip between. The other guy came to her rescue, pulling him along before he could decide whether or not he'd imagined it.

A sleeve moved up to wipe the sweat from her brow. 'Too close, Steph. Keep it together.'

Once the two had rounded the corner and were out of earshot, she climbed up from her hide-y hole and raced up the steps to the backdoor. The doorknob clicked when she went to knock. Locked, naturally. Without a keyhole to stick a lockpick in she was forced to find another way in. Something scurried by her leg. There was a window on the Third floor that someone left cracked, and smoke was wafting out of it. Tricky. If she climbed all the way up there and didn't find an opportunity to slip inside, she'd have no way down that didn't involve snapping her ankles-

The door clicked, and she panicked, stumbling down the stairs until she came crashing down on her ass with a subdued yelp. Steph sat there for what felt like hours, waiting for someone to step out and catch her in the act, but no one came. It just...hung open.

"Bad lock, maybe?" She asked aloud, not sure if she was buying her own bullshit but unwilling to retreat now. Too far in to run, she told herself. Now she knew for sure something was happening, and Stephanie Brown could never live with herself if she ran away now.

Back on her feet, she slipped through the door and into a poorly lit hallway. An odd combination of Gothic organs and techno music was playing faintly from the main room. Steph skulked forward, keeping low, one hand in the back pocket she kept all her emergency goodies in.

Several doors lined each side of the hall, but only one of them was open, if only cracked. She couldn't see much inside save for some tiling on the wall. A bathroom, in all likelihood. She could hear muffled voices on the other side. They were too quiet or too far away- maybe both- to make out. Slowly, silently, she crept up to the door and placed her ear against it.

A hand shot through the opening and took her by the shirt, simultaneously throwing the door open and dragging her inside as she let out a surprised yelp.

The hand belonged to a big man, nearly as wide as he was tall. The black shirt he wore marked him as security in bold, white letters. His arms were covered in bulging veins, thick as steel cables, and a myriad of tattoos with little artistic cohesion or direction; the only one her eyes went to, however, was the pair of crescent moons on his wrist.

"Let go of me, roidrage!" She snarled, smashing a clenched fist straight into his nose with enough force to topple a rhino. It broke, splaying blood all over his mustache and chin. He didn't so much as blink.

Another apparent security guard stepped up beside him, just as large though more rotund than muscular. His head was so perfectly smooth that the overhead lights reflected off of it. And just like his 'roided out friend, his expression was utterly blank.

She gulped, shifting uncomfortably where she hung. They were both staring at her. Neither said a word, or made any move to throw her out or kick her ass. Steph glanced between them, finally seeing what unnerved her so about them: each of them had a subtle, greenish glow about their eyes. If she wasn't so damn close to them Steph was sure she would've missed it, but given how intently they stared back at her, it was impossible to miss.

"Well, fellas, it looks like we've officially crossed over into the Twilight Zone." She laughed, thoroughly terrified for what might come next. "Is this is the part where I ask you to take me to your leader, or the part where I get probed? Because, lemme tell ya, I do not do well with-"

"Quiet now, little bird. There will be time enough for that later." A voice came from behind the guards, sickly in its pleasantness, and a figure appeared from out of a stall shortly after. He was shorter than both of his peers but still two or three inches taller than Stephanie, but his form was obscured by the coat he wore. It was thick, like it was made for winter weather, and long, reaching past his knees. A big, puffy hood was pulled up, casting his face in shadow- all that stuck out of it was a long, crooked nose, like he was the Wicked Witch of The West.

"Pet names, really? You could buy me dinner first, at least." Steph talked to him, but kept her eyes on the immediate threats in front of her. "How'd you know I was here?"

"We did not," he admitted with what may've been a shrug. "We expected to find the green one, but destiny has chosen to reveal another player in our little game."

This time she looked at him, brow raised. "Green one?"

Something made the ceiling creak. Everyone in the room turned toward the back, where a tile was suddenly bending under the weight of something very big, until it finally snapped in two. The lights blinked in and out, bits of material were scattered everywhere. Someone screamed, and something else roared in response. It was too chaotic for Steph to make out what was happening, but she knew she had a brief window of opportunity to exploit it.

A hand shot down into her pocket, producing a pellet roughly the size of a quarter, and she proceeded to toss it directly into the face of her captor. It exploded, sparks lighting up the air and smoke billowing in all directions. It put him off-kilter enough for her to interweave her fingers and slam them into his wrist, bashing it over and over until he was forced to let go.

Now the lights were flashing, people were screaming, and there was smoke everywhere, but at least she was free.

"Know what time it is?" She slipped back into the smoke in a crouch, waiting until Roidrage's back came into view. "Its ass-kick o'clock!" She leapt up at him, arms wrapping around his bulging neck like a vice. Too big and too out of it to have a knock down, drag out fight with. Had to cut off the blood flow to his brain, take him down quick and easy before whatever else was in here finished with Baldy.

Easier said than done, though, as the big man's big hands reached over and took her by the hair. He pulled on it, and rather than lose a chunk of her locks, Steph chose to scramble up his back. Another of his hands came around to grab her and Roidrage started to flip her around, apparently intent on crushing her between his arms.

Her feet hit the wall before he could finish turning her around, putting him in the rather awkward position of holding her over his head. "Not today, pal!" She kicked off, sending him stumbling backward to keep from falling over. For the second time she was able to slip his grip, falling to the ground just in time to sweep his legs and ensure his noggin made contact with the sink. Porcelain cracked and water sprayed everywhere as he lay in a heap, unconscious and down for the count.

'One down, two more to go-oohh no.'

The lights had decided to come back on just as Steph was turning around to face her next opponent, and she found herself face to face with a tiger. An actual, in-the-flesh tiger. The seven-foot-long-and-six-hundred-pounds-of-muscle kind of tiger. And it had either killed or knocked out Baldy, and was now standing on top of the other creep and staring directly at her. Somehow the tiger being here wasn't the weirdest part of this situation, either.

"So, uhm, I'm guessing you're the green one he mentioned earlier?" She stuttered out. Like the massive idiot she was, she had her hands out in front of her, ready to throw down in The Octagon with it, or something.

Santa Marta was an old city full of secrets; it had a nasty habit of burying the uncomfortable ones. Steph wasn't so sure this one was going to let itself be buried.

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

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

DC Universe: Genesis - Justice For All

<Snipped quote by Mao Mao>

Not to be the bad guy (duh!),

@Lord Wraith

you are the worst fucking person on this entire website

Superboy's Shitty Characters

Application Code

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

A L I A S

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^{_{B I R T H N A M E ♦ O C C U P A T I O N ♦ L O C A T I O N ♦ A F F I L I A T I O N}}

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

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^{"Witty Quote"}

This is where you outline your vision for the character including any notable changes or differences from the regularly accepted canon. This should be a short summary that provides insight into where the character is in terms of their overall progress and development.

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:

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Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go?

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

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Any additional notes you want to put either for yourself, the GM's or other players to help clarify your vision or continuity.

S A M P L E P O S T:

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A sample post that can be used in the IC if you so desire upon acceptance. This post should provide an example of your vision for the desired character. This sample post should meet all standards outline in the rules and additionally include dialogue, mannerisms and other actions representative of your intended portrayal.

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

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A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

Polaris: A New Anchorage Story

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Smith's Rest | Medical Offices
January 16th, 2677

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The waiting room was smaller than Mara would've liked. There were too many pilots crammed in there and barely enough space to accommodate them all. She walked passed the tiny, spartan chairs and instead chose to stand, back resting against the wall. From her vantage point she was able to get a good look as the group as a whole, and she found herself cracking a grin.

They were as motley a bunch as any she'd seen before: wasters, company men and guns for hire, all trapped in uncomfortable proximity. No sane person could gather people like this and think it would work. Graham had thrown together a powder keg just waiting to go off. Without some mastermind to stitch all its parts together, she hadn't a clue how their outfit would sustain itself.

'Here's hoping the commander's the genius he thinks he is,' She thought to herself. 'I didn't come all this way just to watch it all burn.'

Maybe it was her optimism showing, but for reasons only God could know, she had faith in Graham to get it done. And if he couldn't? If it all came crashing down around her ears? It'd be a heckuva show, and she could rest easy knowing none of it was on her shoulders. After all, she was the best pilot here- just factually speaking, really- so if everything went sideways, it couldn't be her fault.

Not everyone shared her self-assuredness, of course. Mara kept glancing out of the side of one eye at one of the other pilots: a woman not much older than her and seated nearby, muttering nervously under her breath in a language Mara didn't know. She recognized the sound of it as similar in structure to Hazaragi, but she couldn't place it exactly- maybe if she'd bothered to learn it when they in Hazaristan, but...

"Never much liked goin' to the doctor myself," She said to no one in particular, her head back against the wall and her gaze turned up to the ceiling. "The lights are too bright, its always freakin' cold, and the needles? You do not want me to get started on the needles." She shot a look over to Taraneh, a twinkle in her eye. "Socked my poor company doctor in the jaw the first time he stuck me with a syringe full'a nanobots. Thankful for him, seein' as he saved my leg, but man, I do not like needles."

Out of the corner of her vision she spotted her brother rolling out of his chair and rising to stretch. Demetrius gave a quick look around the room before marching toward the hallway, earphones pumping synthetic garbage into his skull as he wandered off. Mara had half a mind to go grab him, but she thought better of it. She wasn't going to miss her evaluation because she was busy covering for that little gremlin.