Appearance: A wiry, yet sturdily built young chap, Grog prefers to cover himself in numerous articles of protective clothing, such as reinforced leather, goggles and even a few hints of chainmail. Behind his makeshift mask and anachronistic helmet, there lies the face of a twenty-something year old man, with almost shoulder-length messy brown hair, a somewhat handsome, angular visage and an ever-present stubble. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, and glisten distinctively in stronger than average lighting.
Sex: Seldom.
Personality: Grog is the human personification of "Hold my beer dude, I got this." Hot-headed, completely chaotic and boisterous to boot, he's the type of guy who'd shoot himself in the foot on a dare, and then pistol-whip the doctor for trying to sedate him, then somehow mix the various available sedatives into a cocktail powerful enough to send a blue whale home trippin' balls while also acting as a potent fire-bomb if ignited properly. To add further figurative dynamite to the figurative pile, a hair-trigger temper is only matched by his inquisitive nature and love of booze, effectively making him a disaster with legs.
Greatest Sin: Wrath. Two words: Unrestrained and violent.
Also bar fights.
Motivation:"Escort a portal making demon so she can open up one of those bad boys to god knows where? That'd fucking rule."
Biography:"Honestly, I've got nothing to say. I had my fun. I did anything I wanted to do. I only wish I died with more style. You know, getting hit by a truck hurts like a bitch."
That pretty much sums our short-tempered, strong-livered modern day adventurer's story. In life, he was a virtually jobless part-time delinquent, living off petty theft, mainly by blowing up the showcases of chain stores and running off overloaded with stuff in the middle of the night, or by snatching their cash registers in broad daylight and hoping nobody caught up to him. What little earnings he had, he mainly spent in booze, pizza, and materials for more homemade death traps.
Overall, his hobbies mainly consisted of raising as much hell as humanly possible. They included: Previously mentioned cases of theft, public intoxication, loitering, vandalism, disorderly conduct, assault, battery, numerous attempts to pimp farm animals, unlawful possession of weapons and improvised explosive devices, construction of said devices, dumpster arson, jaywalking, uncountable barfights and a hell of a lot more nasty things. It is worthy to note, that even though he was extremely disruptive, Grog displayed an unhinged version of fairness (that was often subject to change), preventing him from lapsing into a full-on psychotic.
Despite his bad habits, Grog had only spent a few months total in prison, due to somehow always evading capture. Eventually, though, his recklessness caught up to him, and he ended up mangled in the sidewalk, after an attempt to outrun a few officers by charging head first into high-speed traffic.
Once he awoke in Hell, Grog was, to say the least, excited. A chance to have a blast and carry on boozing for all of eternity? So what if it had a few pesky demons and nightmarish creatures? It seemed like a pretty sweet deal. And so he went, his vile, bar-hopping, face-beating campaign continuing to this day.
Skills:
Hold My Beer: Grog's most formidable trait is his ability to constantly innovate in unconventional (and dangerously idiotic) ways. He knows enough about subjects such as engineering, science and the occult to create extremely hazardous and utterly bizarre inventions. Furthermore, even though his long-term planning skills are poor at best, he can improvise mind-boggling "strategies" on the spot to counter pressing problems.
Fist of the Barfighter: A life spent in blowing things up and consuming copious amounts of booze has left Grog with the ability to hold his own in a fight exceptionally well. He is an unpredictable and highly formidable combatant, relying on his quick wits, impulsive nature and overwhelming fury, as well as the element of surprise (that he himself is not immune to) to bring down his foes (as well as everything else in the vicinity, himself included).
Battle Brew: Perhaps an echo of his habits in the mortal realm, Grog has the uncanny ability to gain almost supernatural strength and toughness proportionate to the booze he consumes, at the measly cost of mental stability. As if he had enough to begin with.
Weaponized Driving: If you want to go somewhere in a jiffy, and you've got a nasty pack of goons on your trail, Grog is your guy. He's an inhumanly good driver, able to perform crazy stunts and maneuvers other road warriors would never think of attempting. There's one teeny-tiny catch, however. He's quite possibly just as dangerous a driver as he is a fearless one, and chances are, it'd be better for everyone involved if Grog remained far, far away from the steering wheel.
None yet, but he's bound to concoct something disastrous eventually.
Gear:
Power Pint: A slightly oversized, enchanted wooden pint stolen by Grog during a night that he can't remember anything about, it has the ability to fill itself with a variety of beverages. It also appears to be indestructible.
Cargo Belt: A belt with numerous pouches full of stuff. They act as an efficient way for Grog to store knickknacks and tricks.
The Beatstick: A metallic baseball bat with nails and rusted barbed wire welded on it.
@Kafka Komedy Why thank you! And, fair point regarding the backstory. I'll get to work. Maybe I'll add an extra skill and theme song I've been thinking about.
@BCTheEntity Holy hell, you're right. It is entirely likely that Best Jojo has influenced my decisions.
@Banana Everything's just fine-AAAAAAAAARGH! Lookin forward on that resurrection.
It appears we meet once more, my dear Banana. Also, do I detect a hint of POONTAH in this thread?
Anyways, here's my CS.
Grog Lawson
Appearance: A wiry, yet sturdily built young chap, Grog prefers to cover himself in numerous articles of protective clothing, such as reinforced leather, goggles and even a few hints of chainmail. Behind his makeshift mask and anachronistic helmet, there lies the face of a twenty-something year old man, with almost shoulder-length messy brown hair, a somewhat handsome, angular visage and an ever-present stubble. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, and glisten distinctively in stronger than average lighting.
Sex: Seldom.
Personality: Grog is the human personification of "Hold my beer dude, I got this." Hot-headed, completely chaotic and boisterous to boot, he's the type of guy who'd shoot himself in the foot on a dare, and then pistol-whip the doctor for trying to sedate him, then somehow mix the various available sedatives into a cocktail powerful enough to send a blue whale home trippin' balls while also acting as a potent fire-bomb if ignited properly. To add further figurative dynamite to the figurative pile, a hair-trigger temper is only matched by his inquisitive nature and love of booze, effectively making him a disaster with legs.
Greatest Sin: Wrath. Two words: Unrestrained and violent.
Also bar fights.
Motivation:"Escort a portal making demon so she can open up one of those bad boys to god knows where? That'd fucking rule."
Biography:"Honestly, I've got nothing to say. I had my fun. I did anything I wanted to do. I only wish I died with more style. You know, getting hit by a truck hurts like a bitch."
That pretty much sums our short-tempered, strong-livered modern day adventurer's story. In life, he was a virtually jobless part-time delinquent, living off petty theft, mainly by blowing up the showcases of chain stores and running off overloaded with stuff in the middle of the night, or by snatching their cash registers in broad daylight and hoping nobody caught up to him. What little earnings he had, he mainly spent in booze, pizza, and materials for more homemade death traps.
Overall, his hobbies mainly consisted of raising as much hell as humanly possible. They included: Previously mentioned cases of theft, public intoxication, loitering, vandalism, disorderly conduct, assault, battery, numerous attempts to pimp farm animals, unlawful possession of weapons and improvised explosive devices, construction of said devices, dumpster arson, jaywalking, uncountable barfights and a hell of a lot more nasty things. It is worthy to note, that even though he was extremely disruptive, Grog displayed an unhinged version of fairness (that was often subject to change), preventing him from lapsing into a full-on psychotic.
Despite his bad habits, Grog had only spent a few months total in prison, due to somehow always evading capture. Eventually, though, his recklessness caught up to him, and he ended up mangled in the sidewalk, after an attempt to outrun a few officers by charging head first into high-speed traffic.
Once he awoke in Hell, Grog was, to say the least, excited. A chance to have a blast and carry on boozing for all of eternity? So what if it had a few pesky demons and nightmarish creatures? It seemed like a pretty sweet deal. And so he went, his vile, bar-hopping, face-beating campaign continuing to this day.
Skills:
Hold My Beer: Grog's most formidable trait is his ability to constantly innovate in unconventional (and dangerously idiotic) ways. He knows enough about subjects such as engineering, science and the occult to create extremely hazardous and utterly bizarre inventions. Furthermore, even though his long-term planning skills are poor at best, he can improvise mind-boggling "strategies" on the spot to counter pressing problems.
Fist of the Barfighter: A life spent in blowing things up and consuming copious amounts of booze has left Grog with the ability to hold his own in a fight exceptionally well. He is an unpredictable and highly formidable combatant, relying on his quick wits, impulsive nature and overwhelming fury, as well as the element of surprise (that he himself is not immune to) to bring down his foes (as well as everything else in the vicinity, himself included).
Battle Brew: Perhaps an echo of his habits in the mortal realm, Grog has the uncanny ability to gain almost supernatural strength and toughness proportionate to the booze he consumes, at the measly cost of mental stability. As if he had enough to begin with.
Weaponized Driving: If you want to go somewhere in a jiffy, and you've got a nasty pack of goons on your trail, Grog is your guy. He's an inhumanly good driver, able to perform crazy stunts and maneuvers other road warriors would never think of attempting. There's one teeny-tiny catch, however. He's quite possibly just as dangerous a driver as he is a fearless one, and chances are, it'd be better for everyone involved if Grog remained far, far away from the steering wheel.
None yet, but he's bound to concoct something disastrous eventually.
Gear:
Power Pint: A slightly oversized, enchanted wooden pint stolen by Grog during a night that he can't remember anything about, it has the ability to fill itself with a variety of beverages. It also appears to be indestructible.
Cargo Belt: A belt with numerous pouches full of stuff. They act as an efficient way for Grog to store knickknacks and tricks.
The Beatstick: A metallic baseball bat with nails and rusted barbed wire welded on it.
Character you have created: Styx "Bonebreaker" Stone
Alias: Spectre Overdrive
Speech Color (Actually say what you're using): Medium Spring Green (00FA9A)
Character Alignment:90's Anti Hero Extravaganza
Identity: Unknown to the public, but not kept secret.
Character Personality: While not malevolent, Styx's personality is chaotic and, to say the least, not quite like that of a human. Emotions blend and intertwine with each other, and swing wildly from one extreme to the next. Oftentimes, he is manic and inexplicably happy, with a perpetual presence of a trademark hyperactivity. Though impulsive and naive in many areas, he occasionally displays an odd sense of cunning, revealing that he is not as idiotic as he appears. The latter, however is commonly suppressed by his inability to organize his thoughts, and by extent, his actions. Despite a myriad of unflattering traits, Styx is well-meaning, and is disinterested in harming anyone who does not deserve it, though his overall concept of morality (provided he actually has one) may differ wildly from that of the living, most glaring example being that he considers death as something trivial and common. Generally, he seems to be operating on a simple set of likes, dislikes and duties.
Uniform/costume: Styx dons a high-collared leather bodysuit, with numerous belts and spikes attached throughout it, leaving only his hands and head exposed. The suit is not made out of conventional matter, but from Spectral World materials, and can thus reform along with its' owner. Additionally, an engine resembling an infernal mix between a V-8 and a bike engine sticks out of his back and can be occasionally seen glowing faintly and expelling fumes even when not in use, reacting based on its' hosts' mood.
Origin Info/Details:
Beyond the borders of the universe and the countless dimensions it houses, there lies a realm of madness. A realm that from a distance seems human, but upon closer inspection is anything but. The Realm of the Mad Dead, also known as the Spectral World. Most certainly not an afterlife, and not quite an underworld, this plane is home to a myriad of different creatures, the vast majority of them being members of the walking dead. While they are most definitely dead and loving it, not all of them recall ever having been alive, though such trivial matters do not concern the good folk of ol' Spooktown. With eternity at the palms of their spectral hands, and being dead to begin with, they spend their days pursuing the simple pleasures in death, such as ripping each other to shreds over and over and organizing demented events that seem like crude, nonsensical copies of their human counterparts.
Styx Stone was once a simple spectre, by far the most common creature of the Realm, spending his days like most of his kin. His entire unlife changed, however, the moment he found what seemed to be an engine placed right outside of his dwelling. Despite trying to get rid of it numerous times in the days that followed, it always seemed to return, waiting in a place just out of sight before Styx once again ran into it. Having grown weary of the contraption inexplicably appearing in the most inconvenient of times, he brought it to what may very well be the only functioning organization in the entire dimension, a group of scholars named The Crypt Keepers. They were more shocked to find to find the Engine out of its' underground vault than anything else, and after a quick clarification, it was made clear by them that the contraption had chosen Styx to become the Spectre Overdrive, a protector of inter-planar balance and representative of the Spectral World.
Hero Type: Supernatural/Speedster
Power Level: City at base level, upper limits unknown.
Powers:
Member of the Mad Dead: Even though bound to the material realm, Styx still retains every property of a spectre. Most importantly, being dead to begin with, and with no underworld to go to, he can reform from virtually anything that manages to injure him, making him ridiculously durable. He is also far more agile than a common human, and is unable to feel tiredness or fatigue.
Overdrive Engine: A marvel of mystical engineering, the mysterious Overdrive Engine is Styx's source of power and the single most prized artifact of the Spectral World. It has the property to open the gates between the planes and imbues its' owner with a set of powers, most prominent being the ability to "Crank" it up to increase the user's strength, durability and speed, and allows him to interact with different dimensions.
Crank: Styx's most used ability takes the form of a violent revving up in the Overdrive Engine, followed by a flash of green light and an equally violent expulsion of a glowing ethereal substance. With every Crank that occurs, his strength and durability increase noticeably, while his speed and agility see dramatic improvements. Higher Crank levels require constant concentration and willpower, as well as effort to maintain and activate, and Styx often feels "funny" when staying in them for too long.
Displacement: Despite being composed out of mystical elements, Styx manages to maintain his presence on earth with the power of the Engine. This makes him not fully affected by the laws of physics. Some times, depending on his control over the Engine, he seems to be extremely difficult to be moved by external influences, while others he can be seen running on vertical surfaces or moving and balancing himself in ways that'd normally be impossible.
True Sight: Numerous spiritual planes overlap with the material universe, and Styx is able to see many of them at the same time. What may seem like crazy talk, or simply "seeing things" could very well be an honest observation.
Volatility: Much like everything else in the Spectral World, the Engine is highly volatile even when uncranked, and the powers it can display, as well as their magnitude may differ wildly from one moment to the next.
Maximum Overdrive: While never having reached it, it is believed that when Styx cranks the engine enough times, he may enter a state of Maximum Overdrive. It is uncertain what happens then.
Attributes:
Height: 6'6" Weight: 154 lb. plus 132 lb. from the Overdrive Engine. Strength Level: 1 ton at base level, upper limit unknown. Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 40 mph at base level, upper limit unknown. Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Unlimited. Agility: 15X Human level at base level, upper limit unknown. Intelligence: Seemingly Average. Fighting Skill: With the Spectral World's natural state being that of constant turmoil, Styx has become an expert combatant, even though he has never been formally trained.
Resources: Minimal
Weaknesses:
A Good Enough Beating: Styx has reported feeling "kinda weird" after overwhelming assaults and seems noticeably weakened after certain encounters.
Ultra-Fallible: Styx's greatest weakness perhaps comes from within. He is disorganized, even flat-out idiotic most times, and that shows. He may find himself fighting while his reason to do so has been destroyed or otherwise rendered moot, and even worse, more often than not his numerous antics serve to bring about his own defeat.
Supporting Characters/Locations:
Istvan's Dragon: An abandoned bar with a long and bloody history, it is now forbidden territory.
Johnny Dough: A kind old homeless man, seemingly the one and only squatter inside Istvan's Dragon.
Clara and Roger: Two spectres that are among the very few who can almost influence the material world. They are commonly invisible and unable to interact with it directly, only producing poltergeist effects. Clara is a calm, yet excessively bitter and hateful twenty-year old punk while Roger is a scruffy, gangling, yet mellow and friendly former trucker.
Realm of the Mad Dead: A place where human logic is a concept just as laughable as nonviolence, "Ol' Spooktown" as its' inhabitants call it, is a dimension completely cut off from the rest of the universe save for a few gateways in the Earth's material plane. A nightmarish cross between a seventies horror comic and the fever dreams of a coked up rocker, it is an endless expanse of forests, physics-defying mountains, highways, castles, bars and god knows what else.
Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:
Sample Post:
Ride the Lightning
"Are you relaxed, Styx?" Asked a hooded figure. Its' skin was pale white and shriveled, tightly stretching around his wiry body. Tufts of wispy black hair escaped the confines of his hood and waved around as the creature moved around the vault.
"Eh, as much as I can be, y'know?"
The leather-clad ghost slipped his hand inside his collar and rubbed the back of his neck as he scanned the chamber. It was a medieval-looking sort of place, with square chunky stones, smoothed by the passage of time, laid from the floor to the arched ceiling. Ancient-looking shelves and cupboards were overflowing with tomes, scrolls and all sorts of peculiar artifacts, illuminated by a couple of sufficiently bright chandeliers, burning with an unnatural white flame. What caught Styx's attention most was the massive circular door from where he came. Fully metallic and adorned with flowing, abstract depictions of graves, skulls and disembodied spirits, it seemed heavy enough to withstand fifty trucks crashing straight at it in quick succession.
Styx started paying no heed to his surroundings as he stared into the eye sockets of the large, skull-shaped lock protruding from the door's center, but quickly jolted back into his senses as he remembered the matter at hand. He was barely aware of a second figure frantically fiddling with the Engine and mumbling to itself at the back of the room. Twisting in his stool to meet the hooded corpse, he leaned forward, supporting himself on his knees.
"So, uh... I'm some sorta chosen one? Like in the movies?"
The crypt keeper raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, you could... Be considered as such. In loose terms."
The figures' tone was not contemptuous per se, but he was most certainly speaking as if Styx was clueless. To his defense, though, he was. Utterly.
"Wow, huh. Neat. So how'd's this work?
The figure brought his fingertips together, and winced somewhat, unsure of how to explain what would follow.
"Well, the Engine needs to... Bind itself to you- I mean, to... To your spectro-plasmic essence. A harmless procedure, I assure you."
"Aw, @#$%. You're gonna slam it on me 'till it sticks, huh? Hope it don't hurt." Styx slapped his knee and grinned widely, partly amused, partly nervous for what was to come.
The keeper was visibly taken aback, as he did not expect for the spectre to ever realize what was going to happen until it was too late. He soon returned to his slightly condescending tone.
"Does -anything- ever hurt anymore, Styx?
"Yeah, guess you're right. Though you're speaking like you guys've done this thing before. I know you haven't."
The ghoulish custodian raised an eyebrow, this time in surprise.
"That may be true, but I assure you, it is the solemn duty for us Crypt Keepers to guard and study the Engine-" He was interrupted by a loud clatter, as the other robed keeper lifted the contraption clumsily and began walking towards Styx. "-As well as guide and assist the Spectre Overdrive."
Styx's eyes widened at the sound of these words, as his face lit up with childish glee. A sight both precious and disconcerting.
"All seems to be in order, my boy. Are you ready?
The Keeper's voice was now far more serious, and somewhat comforting, rid of its' previous disdain.
"Yup. Do your thing." Styx spoke like it was the most simple thing in the world.
The custodian smiled a warm and honest smile, and spoke, as his partner neared Styx's back.
"What is about to happen here, now, is a moment nothing less than historical. At long last, there shall be a user, a host, for the Overdrive Engine. Your task will be none other than the preservation of balance between the worlds' boundaries, the gates between the planes... And to ensure that no ill will ever befall the spheres of the living... And those of the dead. Just as you are sworn to defend this underworld, as well as every other, so too will you swear to keep the Overworld free from harm, both from the actions of its' own denizens... As well as from the ones Beyond..." The corpse placed its' spindly hand upon the Spectre's shoulder, gazing into his eyes with infinite faith and compassion. "Rise, now Styx. Good luck. And prepare... To ride the lightning."
Styx outstretched his arms and clenched his fists as the Engine was slammed onto his back and the power of the Spectral World itself overflowed within him. The two figures staggered back and covered their eyes as freakish energies shone and crackled, dancing across the room, and knocked down or scorched everything in their wake. The pandemonium grew, and Styx was now hovering in the middle of the vault, his eyes and mouth casting beams of ghostly green light. As the mystical maelstrom reached its' crescendo, blowing everything that wasn't nailed down around the room, he screamed with a resonating voice:
"HELL YEAH MOTHERF-"
A shockwave and a loud sound, similar to that of an explosion covered his words, as the Spectre had vanished in the blink of an eye, along with the surrounding chaos, leaving only a messy room and two dumbfounded figures with equally messy robes behind him.
Character you have created: Styx "Bonebreaker" Stone
Alias: Spectre Overdrive
Speech Color (Actually say what you're using): Medium Spring Green (00FA9A)
Character Alignment:90's Anti Hero Extravaganza
Identity: Unknown to the public, but not kept secret.
Character Personality: While not malevolent, Styx's personality is chaotic and, to say the least, not quite like that of a human. Emotions blend and intertwine with each other, and swing wildly from one extreme to the next. Oftentimes, he is manic and inexplicably happy, with a perpetual presence of a trademark hyperactivity. Though impulsive and naive in many areas, he occasionally displays an odd sense of cunning, revealing that he is not as idiotic as he appears. The latter, however is commonly suppressed by his inability to organize his thoughts, and by extent, his actions. Despite a myriad of unflattering traits, Styx is well-meaning, and is disinterested in harming anyone who does not deserve it, though his overall concept of morality (provided he actually has one) may differ wildly from that of the living, most glaring example being that he considers death as something trivial and common. Generally, he seems to be operating on a simple set of likes, dislikes and duties.
Uniform/costume: Styx dons a high-collared leather bodysuit, with numerous belts and spikes attached throughout it, leaving only his hands and head exposed. The suit is not made out of conventional matter, but from Spectral World materials, and can thus reform along with its' owner. Additionally, an engine resembling an infernal mix between a V-8 and a bike engine sticks out of his back and can be occasionally seen glowing faintly and expelling fumes even when not in use, reacting based on its' hosts' mood.
Origin Info/Details:
Beyond the borders of the universe and the countless dimensions it houses, there lies a realm of madness. A realm that from a distance seems human, but upon closer inspection is anything but. The Realm of the Mad Dead, also known as the Spectral World. Most certainly not an afterlife, and not quite an underworld, this plane is home to a myriad of different creatures, the vast majority of them being members of the walking dead. While they are most definitely dead and loving it, not all of them recall ever having been alive, though such trivial matters do not concern the good folk of ol' Spooktown. With eternity at the palms of their spectral hands, and being dead to begin with, they spend their days pursuing the simple pleasures in death, such as ripping each other to shreds over and over and organizing demented events that seem like crude, nonsensical copies of their human counterparts.
Styx Stone was once a simple spectre, by far the most common creature of the Realm, spending his days like most of his kin. His entire unlife changed, however, the moment he found what seemed to be an engine placed right outside of his dwelling. Despite trying to get rid of it numerous times in the days that followed, it always seemed to return, waiting in a place just out of sight before Styx once again ran into it. Having grown weary of the contraption inexplicably appearing in the most inconvenient of times, he brought it to what may very well be the only functioning organization in the entire dimension, a group of scholars named The Crypt Keepers. They were more shocked to find to find the Engine out of its' underground vault than anything else, and after a quick clarification, it was made clear by them that the contraption had chosen Styx to become the Spectre Overdrive, a protector of inter-planar balance and representative of the Spectral World.
Hero Type: Supernatural/Speedster
Power Level: City at base level, upper limits unknown.
Powers:
Member of the Mad Dead: Even though bound to the material realm, Styx still retains every property of a spectre. Most importantly, being dead to begin with, and with no underworld to go to, he can reform from virtually anything that manages to injure him, making him ridiculously durable. He is also far more agile than a common human, and is unable to feel tiredness or fatigue.
Overdrive Engine: A marvel of mystical engineering, the mysterious Overdrive Engine is Styx's source of power and the single most prized artifact of the Spectral World. It has the property to open the gates between the planes and imbues its' owner with a set of powers, most prominent being the ability to "Crank" it up to increase the user's strength, durability and speed, and allows him to interact with different dimensions.
Crank: Styx's most used ability takes the form of a violent revving up in the Overdrive Engine, followed by a flash of green light and an equally violent expulsion of a glowing ethereal substance. With every Crank that occurs, his strength and durability increase noticeably, while his speed and agility see dramatic improvements. Higher Crank levels require constant concentration and willpower, as well as effort to maintain and activate, and Styx often feels "funny" when staying in them for too long.
Displacement: Despite being composed out of mystical elements, Styx manages to maintain his presence on earth with the power of the Engine. This makes him not fully affected by the laws of physics. Some times, depending on his control over the Engine, he seems to be extremely difficult to be moved by external influences, while others he can be seen running on vertical surfaces or moving and balancing himself in ways that'd normally be impossible.
True Sight: Numerous spiritual planes overlap with the material universe, and Styx is able to see many of them at the same time. What may seem like crazy talk, or simply "seeing things" could very well be an honest observation.
Volatility: Much like everything else in the Spectral World, the Engine is highly volatile even when uncranked, and the powers it can display, as well as their magnitude may differ wildly from one moment to the next.
Maximum Overdrive: While never having reached it, it is believed that when Styx cranks the engine enough times, he may enter a state of Maximum Overdrive. It is uncertain what happens then.
Attributes:
Height: 6'6" Weight: 154 lb. plus 132 lb. from the Overdrive Engine. Strength Level: 1 ton at base level, upper limit unknown. Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 40 mph at base level, upper limit unknown. Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: Unlimited. Agility: 15X Human level at base level, upper limit unknown. Intelligence: Seemingly Average. Fighting Skill: With the Spectral World's natural state being that of constant turmoil, Styx has become an expert combatant, even though he has never been formally trained.
Resources: Minimal
Weaknesses:
A Good Enough Beating: Styx has reported feeling "kinda weird" after overwhelming assaults and seems noticeably weakened after certain encounters.
Ultra-Fallible: Styx's greatest weakness perhaps comes from within. He is disorganized, even flat-out idiotic most times, and that shows. He may find himself fighting while his reason to do so has been destroyed or otherwise rendered moot, and even worse, more often than not his numerous antics serve to bring about his own defeat.
Supporting Characters/Locations:
Istvan's Dragon: An abandoned bar with a long and bloody history, it is now forbidden territory.
Johnny Dough: A kind old homeless man, seemingly the one and only squatter inside Istvan's Dragon.
Clara and Roger: Two spectres that are among the very few who can almost influence the material world. They are commonly invisible and unable to interact with it directly, only producing poltergeist effects. Clara is a calm, yet excessively bitter and hateful twenty-year old punk while Roger is a scruffy, gangling, yet mellow and friendly former trucker.
Realm of the Mad Dead: A place where human logic is a concept just as laughable as nonviolence, "Ol' Spooktown" as its' inhabitants call it, is a dimension completely cut off from the rest of the universe save for a few gateways in the Earth's material plane. A nightmarish cross between a seventies horror comic and the fever dreams of a coked up rocker, it is an endless expanse of forests, physics-defying mountains, highways, castles, bars and god knows what else.
Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:
Sample Post:
Ride the Lightning
"Are you relaxed, Styx?" Asked a hooded figure. Its' skin was pale white and shriveled, tightly stretching around his wiry body. Tufts of wispy black hair escaped the confines of his hood and waved around as the creature moved around the vault.
"Eh, as much as I can be, y'know?"
The leather-clad ghost slipped his hand inside his collar and rubbed the back of his neck as he scanned the chamber. It was a medieval-looking sort of place, with square chunky stones, smoothed by the passage of time, laid from the floor to the arched ceiling. Ancient-looking shelves and cupboards were overflowing with tomes, scrolls and all sorts of peculiar artifacts, illuminated by a couple of sufficiently bright chandeliers, burning with an unnatural white flame. What caught Styx's attention most was the massive circular door from where he came. Fully metallic and adorned with flowing, abstract depictions of graves, skulls and disembodied spirits, it seemed heavy enough to withstand fifty trucks crashing straight at it in quick succession.
Styx started paying no heed to his surroundings as he stared into the eye sockets of the large, skull-shaped lock protruding from the door's center, but quickly jolted back into his senses as he remembered the matter at hand. He was barely aware of a second figure frantically fiddling with the Engine and mumbling to itself at the back of the room. Twisting in his stool to meet the hooded corpse, he leaned forward, supporting himself on his knees.
"So, uh... I'm some sorta chosen one? Like in the movies?"
The crypt keeper raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, you could... Be considered as such. In loose terms."
The figures' tone was not contemptuous per se, but he was most certainly speaking as if Styx was clueless. To his defense, though, he was. Utterly.
"Wow, huh. Neat. So how'd's this work?
The figure brought his fingertips together, and winced somewhat, unsure of how to explain what would follow.
"Well, the Engine needs to... Bind itself to you- I mean, to... To your spectro-plasmic essence. A harmless procedure, I assure you."
"Aw, @#$%. You're gonna slam it on me 'till it sticks, huh? Hope it don't hurt." Styx slapped his knee and grinned widely, partly amused, partly nervous for what was to come.
The keeper was visibly taken aback, as he did not expect for the spectre to ever realize what was going to happen until it was too late. He soon returned to his slightly condescending tone.
"Does -anything- ever hurt anymore, Styx?
"Yeah, guess you're right. Though you're speaking like you guys've done this thing before. I know you haven't."
The ghoulish custodian raised an eyebrow, this time in surprise.
"That may be true, but I assure you, it is the solemn duty for us Crypt Keepers to guard and study the Engine-" He was interrupted by a loud clatter, as the other robed keeper lifted the contraption clumsily and began walking towards Styx. "-As well as guide and assist the Spectre Overdrive."
Styx's eyes widened at the sound of these words, as his face lit up with childish glee. A sight both precious and disconcerting.
"All seems to be in order, my boy. Are you ready?
The Keeper's voice was now far more serious, and somewhat comforting, rid of its' previous disdain.
"Yup. Do your thing." Styx spoke like it was the most simple thing in the world.
The custodian smiled a warm and honest smile, and spoke, as his partner neared Styx's back.
"What is about to happen here, now, is a moment nothing less than historical. At long last, there shall be a user, a host, for the Overdrive Engine. Your task will be none other than the preservation of balance between the worlds' boundaries, the gates between the planes... And to ensure that no ill will ever befall the spheres of the living... And those of the dead. Just as you are sworn to defend this underworld, as well as every other, so too will you swear to keep the Overworld free from harm, both from the actions of its' own denizens... As well as from the ones Beyond..." The corpse placed its' spindly hand upon the Spectre's shoulder, gazing into his eyes with infinite faith and compassion. "Rise, now Styx. Good luck. And prepare... To ride the lightning."
Styx outstretched his arms and clenched his fists as the Engine was slammed onto his back and the power of the Spectral World itself overflowed within him. The two figures staggered back and covered their eyes as freakish energies shone and crackled, dancing across the room, and knocked down or scorched everything in their wake. The pandemonium grew, and Styx was now hovering in the middle of the vault, his eyes and mouth casting beams of ghostly green light. As the mystical maelstrom reached its' crescendo, blowing everything that wasn't nailed down around the room, he screamed with a resonating voice:
"HELL YEAH MOTHERF-"
A shockwave and a loud sound, similar to that of an explosion covered his words, as the Spectre had vanished in the blink of an eye, along with the surrounding chaos, leaving only a messy room and two dumbfounded figures with equally messy robes behind him.
[edit] I was just informed that supernaturals are no longer allowed, so I'm just going to leave this here to be approved or not, and get to him if/when they're allowed again. Pardon the blunder.
Destructive Power: A Speed: A Range: E (2 meters) Durability: A Precision: C Development Potential: B
Go Forth and Die: Dethharmonic passively influences the luck of everything around it including its' user. Once summoned, it will make anything that would be considered unfortunate more likely to happen. Minor events have a higher chance, and sometimes occur almost constantly, while greater events have a proportionally smaller one. The user can amplify this ability, but it grows more taxing depending on potency and time it spends active.
Signature Move: Dethharmonic performs an impossibly fast kick, with either the right or left leg, starting downwards and following an upwards trajectory with a direction opposite from whatever leg it started. Once it reaches a high enough point, it is followed by a backflip and ends at its' original location, having made a full circle. This ability is designed to cover a large area as quickly as possible with maximum force to make up for the stand's sub-par precision.
Personality
Bitter enough to put that old uncle you grudgingly invite to family gatherings to shame, Hank is a young man who has lived his entire life believing everyone and everything is out to get him. He is distrustful, cynical and vindictive, and quick to judge others. While he could be seen as intuitive, he frequently overreacts at perceived slights.
Member
