udonoodles

~ Welcome to Sanctuary ~

super sorry about the delay again, january has not been my month OTL

hope to have a post out for fran soon!

~ Welcome to Sanctuary ~

Francis Markovich

Name: Francis “Fran” Markovich


Birthday:
December 2nd, 2000

Age: 21


Appearance:

Standing tall at 6’3 even without his boots, Francis cuts a lanky, slender figure—what muscle he has is lean, the product of a once regimental but now very on again-off again exercise routine.

From his unusual style, one could easily mistake Francis for a newcomer to Sanctuary: His eclectic style of variously coloured denim jackets, chunky combat boots and all manner of flashy graphic t-shirts—most often accompanied by a pair of plain jeans, for some mundanity—conveys a distinct inability to properly assimilate, rather jarringly melding traditional Coloradoan attire with urban street fashion.

Occupation: Begrudging bartender at the Bandits’ Bar: it’s money, and that’s all Francis really cares about—something he reminds himself of whenever the local rabble get so drunk they start calling him a girl and stop actually aiming the spout of their beer bottles at their mouths.

Short Bio:
The illegitimate son of a Jewish German man and a Protestant Georgian woman, raised secular in a Colorado household, it should be of little surprise that Francis has struggled with identity since he was old enough to comprehend it.

His childhood was a troubled one: Despite his booksmarts, he was reckless and immature and often ended up in trouble with teachers for tardiness or missing homework. Like his mother when she was young, he showed a great aptitude for mathematics and science—however he rarely, if ever, applied these skills in class.
Spending much of his time in detention to make up on work incompleted, Fran had little time to connect with his peers and make friends: There were a few distant acquaintances in class, but he was seldom afforded the time to socialise further during recess. In an attempt to compensate for this, Francis quickly became the ‘class clown’, often butting heads with those in authority simply to be contrarian—and though it succeeded in garnering him attention from his peers, it simply meant he was punished more often, and ultimately kept further away from them.

At home, his relationship with his parents was strained: His mother was frequently tired and emotionally fraught for seemingly no reason, and often withdrew herself away from her husband and child. On the opposite end, Fran’s father was a constant presence in his life—though very rarely a positive one. He pressured Francis into more traditional masculinity, shunning his interests in technology and music pushing sports and working with his hands.
This, of course, had the opposite effect that Fran’s father had hoped for: The child became further atomised from his family, distrusting them and withdrawing into introversion. Alone, and bearing witness to the far more functional families of his peers, a resentment stewed in Francis: For his parents moving away from the bright lights of the city to some dying hick town and shutting him out, and for himself—after all, no one just decides to block a person out like that. What if it was his fault? The flames of misanthropy scorched his self-esteem, further damaging his ability to socialise: It was difficult to make friends when he thought so lowly of himself, and expected others to strike for his perceived imperfections.

Now a young teenager, Fran frequently snuck out of the house to entertain himself—and not always through legal means, as his parents would learn when he was escorted home by a police officer after being suspected of shoplifting. He had been hanging around with local gangs of rabble, from home more broken than his own—sons and daughters of ex-convicts reluctant to change. In the moment, he didn’t care what they were doing: He just belonged somewhere, for once, and that was enough.
Until he was caught, and they sold him out to save their own skin.

Many regrettable things were said that night, and many breaking points reached—chiefly among them was Francis learning that his father was, in reality, his stepfather: He was conceived illegitimately by his mother and another man who abandoned her. Coming from a locally famous conservative Christian household in Georgia, she had no choice but to flee when her parents found out—running off with someone she could trust—that being Fran’s stepfather—to a quiet town where she wouldn’t be recognised.

The morning after, Francis’ parents realised their mistake: Over the coming weeks, they attempted to mend their relationships with him, and over the coming months, they realised they had been neglecting his emotional needs. Their efforts were first in vain, though showed some tenuous success as he got older—but Fran had made his decision: He was going to stop sitting around and wasting his potential, and start learning. He was going to seize the opportunity his parents never could, and get the hell out of Colorado—a city, he thought, like California or Minneapolis, or even New York—the city his parents had left behind.
Part of it was anger at them. Part of it was an inability to face the guilt being a burden on them brought, ruining their lives over his mere existence—but Francis chose not to think about that, and began working.

Now in his early 20’s, Fran (barely) holds down a job to make some money on the side while he pursues his passions—computer science and engineering—at home, hoping to break out of Sanctuary and head off to university. But something’s holding him back: A part of him is missing, and though he longs for it, he can’t quite bring himself to leave the town that has been his home for so long.

Despite appearances, or preconceived notions those in Sanctuary might have of the ruffian Francis was (and, in little ways, is), he is surprisingly affable: Residents around his age may remember him being particularly easy to talk to in school, and that certainly hasn’t changed. Ever the charmer, he revels in entertaining and making others laugh, but can also prove an excellent listener when someone—usually a customer at Bandits’—needs to vent or complain.
Beyond simple social interactions, however, it can be difficult to get Francis to trust you: Though he may not be open about it, he tends to prepare for the worst and thus struggles with unintentionally putting up walls around himself. Paradoxically, he simultaneously craves attention yet retreats when too much is applied in the wrong places: A gentle, slow moving relationship is the best way to reach past Fran’s barriers, though the process of gaining his trust can be expedited through common experience or shared interests and hobbies.

Misc:
Family Background:
Francis was born to what seemed—on the outside—to be an ordinary happy couple, in Sanctuary, Colorado. The reality, however, wasn’t so simple.

Francis’ mother, Lydia Hansen, came from affluence: Her family was heavily involved in big business in Georgia, and so she enjoyed a comfortable home life. Still, she attended public school and was taught humility and gratitude by her father—a candidate for the Georgia state senate, and thus a man who understood the value of appealing to the proles of his fastly urbanising district. Appearance was of the utmost importance to the family: To defy the image of an honest Christian clan with patriotism in their hearts and the holy book in their hands would be to demand disowning. Though the guiding hand of Lydia’s father kept her on the ‘straight and narrow’, it would not be a presence in her life forever.

Lydia showed great promise as a student: Her skill in science and mathematics was unmatched by her classmates, and she managed to keep pace in the arts and languages despite initial difficulties. It was clear she had a bright future ahead of her, and her father was acutely aware of this—and of the good press he’d get among the moderate niche for being a bipartisan believer in both God and science. A few short months after graduation, Lydia was shipped off to Pratt Institute, New York, ready to start her degree in engineering.

It was here that she would be exposed to the world her family had sheltered her from for so long: The real world, a secular world and a working class world. She was young, and initially outraged that she had missed so much—and ultimately, her hastiness to explore all she had been forbidden to in Georgia would lead to her downfall.
Finding the foreign world of a liberal city like New York positively fascinating, Lydia’s inquisitive mind pushed her from her usual social circles and into the beating heart of her college community: She met with artists, feminists, progressive political activists and people from all walks of life—sexual, religious, cultural, ethnic—in her efforts to learn more. The majority of these people were decent, like any other—however, just like any group, there were a few bad apples lurking in the batch.

Among these people were Adrian and Otto, two men who would one day call Francis Markovich their son. He was a descendant of a group of Ashkenazi Jewish families who, in the early 19th century, emigrated from Germany amidst a hostile political climate and whispers of a return to economic normalcy in America. They were working men from working class families; Otto was attending a nearby college while Adrian kept the precise details about himself vague. This was something Lydia found refreshing: Far too often had her father tried to introduce her to some snobby well-to-do trust fund son of his associate. Even more exciting to Lydia was that both men were romantically interested in her—at least, that was what it seemed at first.

It was at a party—without Otto around—that Adrian finally made a move on Lydia, and the two began to date. When Lydia informed Adrian that she had missed her period that month, however, he was quick to vanish.
Lydia was petrified: What was she going to do? The only person she could confide in was Otto—while that may have calmed her for a while, she knew the news would have to be broken eventually. Under great stress, she made a final phone call to her father, informing him of the development: She was pregnant, out of wedlock.

Her father swore and shouted down the receiver, absconding her as a lecher and damning her to hell if she did not immediately return come the end of the semester and repent—lest he cast her out from the family and officially disown her.
It was a difficult few weeks for Lydia, but with Otto’s support, she made good on her father’s threat: If he was going to disown her for not obeying, then she’d cut to the chase and estrange herself. She’d take what money she had been given, pool it with Otto, and leave her life behind—she owed a clean slate to her son. Otto was happy to come: His devoutly Jewish parents would have dropped dead at the thought of him going off with some rich Christian girl, and the insular way of thinking amongst both his family and the community they were a part of was poisoning him, slowly.

Sanctuary, Colorado was the town Lydia and Otto Markovich arrived in: A dying town untouched by the modern world at that time, property was dirt cheap, and being so far from their homes of Georgia and New York was a comfort to them both.
On December 2nd, 2000, Lydia and Otto had a healthy baby boy they named Francis: A name meaning ‘free’, fitting for the child who had—though unexpectedly—freed them from walking a path others had chosen for them.
In the coming years, it would prove itself a very apt title indeed.

Mildly Interesting Facts:
-Growing up, Francis was taught German by his father at the behest of his mother—and later completed his education himself, via the internet. Additionally, he also possesses a very rough knowledge of Spanish from school days—about enough to introduce himself and ask where the bathroom is, and a paltry sum of Yiddish phrases passed down from his father—who, like himself, never really got on with his family enough to put much effort into actually learning it.
-To keep him company, Francis owns an energetic little leopard gecko he affectionately dubbed Ike. If the lizard trusts you, Fran trusts you.
-Born left handed, Francis taught—or forced, depending on your perspective—himself into gaining that same dexterity in his right hand. Ultimately, of course, he didn’t achieve a perfect result, but he isn’t entirely hopeless with his right side either.
-Fran can also play the piano/keyboard at a skill level that can be best described as “well, at least he’s having fun”—though his skill with complex melodies and bass lines is impressive, due to the control he exerts with both hands.
-Francis is gay, though no one except for Ike knows. It almost slipped out during his big argument with his parents, but he held his tongue—he was still young and wasn’t sure if it was just confusion or something more. Considering his parents’ backgrounds and previous reception to Fran expressing himself, he isn’t overly keen on letting them know any time soon.

ArcRift

.

ArcRift

“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?”
This man had curious eyes, Gyro had to admit: Had he merely cast a glance over Cole, he would have noted them as blue and nothing more—but to find the Golden Rectangle, he had to look closer. The perfect ratio he needed indeed lay in between brow and cheek—and behind those irises, an unmistakable weight of experience, and of power. He had seen that look in another’s eyes before: President Valentine, as he stood over him. The weight of the war, and the power of the Holy Corpse—not a reveling in strength, nor a weariness from the past. Just a confident resolution of duty.
He could only hope Cole's duty was more noble than the President’s.

“I don’t believe in coincidences. In my experience, there’s a ‘flow’ that all things follow, trying to put them on the ‘right path’: It wasn’t by chance I saw your flying machine fall. It’s the flow of things, leading me here…And maybe, to my path.”
He tilted his head, cocking his brow.
“Besides, it’s dark out now. Even an experienced explorer wouldn’t risk going out into the night in an unfamiliar land like this.”

At Sanford’s inquiries, Gyro chuckled. “You’re correct. This ‘Steel Ball’ is my weapon. If I was reckless, I could destroy my ear completely, or my shoulder, or cheek—just like how a fool with a gun may give himself a smack if he forgets about the recoil. But I am no fool: I’ve learnt to use the Steel Balls from a young age. I’ve spun it with the technique of a master—so long as I’m careful not to bump into it, it won’t budge or veer off course into me.” Slowly, Gyro rose up from his prone position, raising one knee and putting the other back. He steadied himself with both hands down onto the ground, casting his gaze across the rubble.

“The energy inside the Ball is being dispersed through the ground, echoing out as vibrations: When those vibrations bounce off of something, it comes back as an echo.” His expression hardened, his focus clearly elsewhere—his voice sounded more as if he was repeating what he had heard than explaining it in his own words. “I can tell if something is there, how big it is, how far away it is…Then, it’s just a matter of identifying it from that information.”
He raised a hand towards Cole, beckoning him back over. His gaze refocused, shooting a steely stare back at Sanford.

“There’s someone under that rubble,” he spoke low, pointing towards it but shielding his finger from the crowd with his cape. “It’s a person, definitely. They’re smaller than me: Either a woman, or a really scrawny kid. We’ve gotta get them out of there…But if we make a big fuss about it, everyone will just rush in and make a mess of it all, trying to be the hero—and they’ll probably spook Valkyrie, too. But if you get into position…I’ll use my Steel Balls to clear you a path, and you should be able to free them.”
The Ball at Gyro’s foot stopped spinning. What was that he had before, about coincidences?

Reaching down for it, Gyro took the Steel Ball into his hand. He stood up straight, tipping back his hat. He had a clear shot from here.
He looked to the side, again looking at—not in—Cole’s eye. The Golden Rectangle: A perfectly pleasing ratio, easily found in the human eye. The perfect angle at which to use the Spin.



He inhaled, relaxing and releasing tension where it wasn’t needed. He held himself there, waiting for Cole and Sanford to get into position by the rubble.

“Be ready. I’m letting it loose…”
One quick glance between his newfound allies. Then he reared back, twisted his arm low, and flicked his wrist forward.
“Now! See for yourselves the power of the Spin!”
In an instant, the Steel Ball rocketed forward like a great big bullet from Gyro’s hand. It whistled through the air, a mere green blur even to those with heightened perceptions—and just as quickly as it had taken flight, it collided with the surface of the rubble with a great crash. Yet, despite the tremendous speed at which it travelled, the debris did not crack. They did not even shift in place—instead, the Steel Ball kept spinning. It spun faster than the human eye could comprehend, scraping all along the stone surface and sending bits and flecks flying back. Dust began to rise and cloud around as the Ball spun, obscuring it from view—save for a faint golden glow shining through.
Finally, it stopped. Tiny particles of rubble were scattered all about, shattered free by the Steel Ball—which shot back through the dust and boomeranged right back into Gyro’s hand, fitting perfectly into his palm. The rubble covering the woman had been ground up into fine little grains—easily sifted through by Cole and Sanford to pull free whomever was within.

Gyro cast a glance towards the crowd, watching for reactions. Then, back to his allies.
“Eheh, nyo-ho~”



He seemed to be enjoying himself.
@FactionGuerilla@Yamperzzz

~ Welcome to Sanctuary ~

Incredibly sorry about the delay on my character — My schedule's been very erratic and I found myself unsatisfied with what I'd written when I did get the chance to sit down and work on it. Fortunately, I'm just about finished, and just need to give it a look over to see what could be improved: I should be able to submit him Sunday, or Monday at the latest!

ArcRift

Fingers pushed tight together, Gyro Zeppeli held his right hand horizontally aloft, aligning the sun along the edge of his pointer.
“Uno, due, tre, quattro…Five o’clock in the evening.”



Musing to hhimself, he idly stroked Valkyrie’s neck to soothe him. “If sunset is six, then it must be five. Only one hour…” lowering his hand, he placed both upon his hips and held his head high.



“..One hour to make it to that flying machine, before nightfall. One hour to salvage what I can and take off.”

“One hour…”


ⁿʸᵒ-ʰᵒ!

“Is much too generous for a travelling man such as Gyro Zeppeli!”
Turning back, he reached for his hat and doffed his cap, his toothy grin relaxing into a humble smile. “Much love, oh Lady Luck.”
Placing his hat upon his head, Gyro reached to grab Valkyrie’s reins and arched down low. His smile slacked into a smirk, and he squinted ahead to the smoke trail drifting over the horizon.



“I’ll follow your gifts to reach the ‘right path’—wherever it takes me.”
Kicking his heels, he spurred his steed forward, into the unknown—into the flow, and towards the calamity.

. . .

To the group ahead, Gyro’s approach was heralded by the distant sound of hooves clopping against the ground. Over the horizon he came, peering up from beneath the brim of his hat as he neared the site of the crash.
Evidently, he pondered with a furrowed brow, it seemed he had conspired to plunder an empty tomb.

He said nothing to Luthor’s posse as they picked themselves up, stirring into consciousness or already up and inspecting their surroundings. Offering naught but a glare to the side, he brought Valkyrie down to a measured trot, steering him to pace around the fallen jet—just what was this strange contraption, able to fly and fall so far? Da Vinci created the Aerial Screw, yet it never left the ground—though with the Spin, Gyro had theorised, perhaps it would indeed be possible. Yet this looked nothing like the sketches he had seen from his studies: Winged instead of propelled; this was a sleeker, metallic vessel, like a fancy carriage, or one of Benz’s horseless automobiles.
Feh. Like those things would ever catch on.

Indeed, there seemed to be no way for this craft to utilise the Spin—and even a man with such worldly wisdom as Gyro hadn’t a clue how it could fly otherwise.
But regardless, he didn’t think it was going anywhere now, with that bullet lodged through its wing.

And if he could hardly comprehend the nature of this strange vehicle, then the decor of its crash site was something he found well and truly bizarre: Who in Mother Mary’s name decorated this infernal cuckooland? The pantomime’s Pierrot?
It almost resembled a children’s playhouse, yet it was in a dismal state indeed: The sized up, soiled statues of toy soldiers crept into a valley of uncanniness—from the corner of his eye, they almost appeared to be real people, lurking in the shadows to strike out at him.
He couldn’t help but to steer Valkyrie away from them, and towards the group that had gathered.

He really should be leaving. That felt like the obvious path to take: He wasn’t going to be salvaging anything if whatever he salvaged still had a living owner—or owners. But the obvious, easy path rarely seemed to be the right one—the detour, he found, was often the shortest path. Why else would that vessel fall from the heavens if not to guide him to this place?
There was a path being set for him. It was his choice to follow it.

“It’d be stupid to go anywhere so soon,” he spoke aloud, to no one in particular. He kicked back out from his horse’s stirrups, unhooking his feet and swinging his right leg over to the left. “We might be safe right now, but…” With a twist, he undid the clasp on his right-hand leather pouch, reaching for his hip to unholster his trusty instrument.



“The Chinese have a weapon called the “Huo Long Chu Shui”: That’s “fire dragon out of the water”.” Gyro crouched down to the ground, brushing aside any dirt or debris to create a flat surface upon which he rested his Steel Ball. He held onto it still, observing the surrounding area. “It’s a long thick tube, propelled by gunpowder and packed full of arrows. And you’ve got one stuck in the armour of your flying machine.”
He looked up from his work to meet the gaze of anyone listening, looking straight at their eye—not into, as if to make contact, but at, as if to study.
“There you are,” he mouthed silently, lowering down from his crouch to lay belly down upon the floor.
“Someone’s after you. Which means they'll be after me now, too.”
He concentrated on the Steel Ball, raising his shoulder and arching his elbow. He gripped the sphere tightly, turning his head, and subtle sparks of gold flashed between his forearm and fingers until he flicked his wrist and…
The Ball began to spin. Spinning, spinning…endlessly, perfectly—very nearly, almost perfectly.
“Let’s see if we can find them…”

Pushing himself forward with his elbows and knees, Gyro placed his ear beside the Steel Ball.
His brow furrowed. His vision cleared and focused, unburdened by peripheral distractions. He placed his hand out, flat upon the ground, and felt it: The vibrations of the Golden Spin, echoing through the ground.



“Bats have perfectly fine eyesight, you know. It’s just a myth that they’re blind—their eyes are just meant for seeing in the dark. To help them, though, they use something called ‘echolocation’...Sound waves, vibrating through the air, allow them to detect movement. This…”
Momentarily he broke his focus, casting a glance to Ball.
“...Is much the same. Let us see…”

Okay, the crowd off to his right was there. He didn’t need to echolocate them—who else? Who was lurking about, perhaps to pick off the stragglers? Or perhaps their crash was calculated—perhaps someone was waiting for them here, or further into the steel mill?
He had once detected nearly a dozen men approaching from a distance further than his naked eye could see: If anyone was indeed nearby, he could easily detect their presence.

@Thatguyinastore (GM Post RE: Echolocation), Open interaction

ArcRift

“Everyday I wake up knowing that the more people I try to save, the more enemies I'll make. And it's just a matter of time before I face those with more power than I can overcome.”

Name: Peter Benjamin Parker (Earth-120703: “Webbverse” Incarnation), AKA The Amazing Spider-Man

Age: Indeterminate: Presumably mid-to-late 20’s

Gender: Male

Canon:

Main Thread or Sandbox: Main

Personality:

“Peter Parker: if there’s one thing you are, it’s good.”

A hero at heart, Peter Parker is a damaged but kindhearted individual that fights for the everyman, staying grounded and human where other heroes would lose their heads in the clouds.

Despite the immense courage he displays as Spider-Man, Peter is quite awkward socially: He frequently stumbles over words and stutters, becoming easily flustered and embarrassed. He evidently struggles with social interaction in general, remaining an outcast for most of his school days. Nonetheless, he was caring and kind even before he assumed the mantle of Spider-Man, standing up for the students Flash Thompson bullied—even if it meant a kick in the ribs.

As Spider-Man, he becomes far more confident, slinging just as many jokes and quips at his opponents as he does webs. Ultimately, however, he does not prioritise his enemies during a crisis—his first plan of action is always to defend the innocent, and he will willingly let a villain escape if forced to choose between apprehending them or saving a bystander. This mercy and compassion for life extends even to the criminals he battles: He will always try to incapacitate rather than kill, and even attempted to talk down Electro and the Rhino.

Despite his noble heart, Peter is scarred from tragedy after tragedy: He became vindictive and vengeful after the death of his Uncle Ben, and was unable to forgive himself for the death of Gwen Stacy—after her passing, he had “no time for Peter Parker” stuff, foregoing an ordinary life entirely. His mercy has its limits, especially after loss: After the death of Gwen, he “stopped pulling his punches” and became “bitter” and “rageful”—a state he had sworn off after overcoming the loss of Uncle Ben, but nonetheless an immutable characteristic of his psyche he can never truly escape.

Peter is especially prone to blaming himself for negative outcomes, even when they are not entirely his fault: Even years later, he was unable to forgive himself for failing to save Gwen, and pursued the Lizard entirely because, in Peter’s eyes, he was responsible for his creation. Guilt hangs over him like a dark cloud and has clearly taken its toll on him: During the events of No Way Home, he is notably more sensitive and reserved, and his interactions with his fellow Spider-men suggest he is (perhaps intentionally) starved for companionship.

In spite of his great loss, Peter carries on: Working to forgive himself, to better himself, and to keep safe those he swore to protect—in honour of those he could not.

Biography: https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Peter_Parker_(Earth-120703)#History (waaay too long to be reasonably summarised lol)

Equipment:
Web-Shooters:

“It's just the wrist. It's just all in the wrist, buddy.”

Unlike his arachnid cousins, Peter cannot manufacture webbing naturally. However, after “borrowing” some of the research on Oscorp’s biocables, he came up with the perfect alternative: “Web-Shooters”, a marvel of engineering allowing Spider-Man to truly live up to his name.

Loaded with cartridges of webbing, the Web-Shooters can fire cobweb-esque liquid, both in bursts and in sustained streams.

The Web-Shooter’s webbing is incredibly powerful: The biocable which it was developed from is ten times stronger than steel—outclassing even tungsten—and is capable of hauling around jet planes without snapping. Its strength is frequently demonstrated, a single rope able to suspend cars from bridges and binding the inhuman powerhouse that was the Lizard. Unlike steel at its toughest, however, the webbing is also incredibly flexible and stretchy, like rope—a property that makes it an incredibly versatile tool for ensnaring enemies or setting up traps.
Perhaps most iconic of the Web-Shooter’s uses comes from a combination of all three of its noteworthy properties: With its incredible strength, flexibility, and stickiness, Peter can use the Web-Shooters can be used to sling himself around New York, soaring through the air and grappling up buildings.

Powers/Abilities:
Cross-Species Genetics:

“He was bitten by one of those things, and it worked.”

After Peter was bitten by one of Oscorp’s super-spiders, his very DNA was rewritten—the best aspects of spider and human were combined to create the amazing Spider-Man, and bestow upon him abilities befitting of that title.
Superhuman Strength: Peter's strength is overwhelming, easily overpowering even the peak of normal human potential. He can effortlessly overpower normal humans, pull apart guns, and smash his alarm clock into bits with a simple hit. A slam dunk shattered the backboard of his school basketball hoop, and his front door’s glass panel met the same fate when he slammed it in a fit of frustration. He could hold a van with one hand while hanging from a web, and stopped a bus weighing 18.5 tons from tipping over. His strength also allows him to jump higher and farther than a normal human, further supplementing his mobility and allowing him to leap from one building, over a New York street, and onto the next.

Superhuman Durability: Peter's muscles and flesh are tougher than a normal human. He was capable of surviving a fall from hundreds of feet in the air, and was smashed into (and even through) brick walls with only minimal injuries and discomfort. He survived multiple blasts from Electro, and even endured electrical torture that pushed Electro to his absolute limit—torture that occurred midair, meaning the electric current running through Peter would have no way to ground itself.

Superhuman Speed: Peter’s speed is incredible, allowing him to catch up to moving vehicles and dodge Electro’s lightning attacks.

Superhuman Reflexes: According to the official TASM blog, Peter’s reflexes are roughly 40 times faster than that of a regular human, putting them at around 6.25 milliseconds—excluding spider-senses.

Superhuman Stamina: Spider-Man’s stamina is far greater than a normal human, enabling him to keep fighting for longer—and swing through New York without growing tired.
Superhuman Agility: Due to his incredible strength and flexibility, Peter is extremely acrobatic and is able to perform high jumps, somersaults, flips and other precarious manoeuvres. His balance is also perfect, allowing him to perch atop narrow surfaces with ease.
According to the official TASM blog, Peter is roughly fifteen times more agile than a normal human.

Superhuman Senses: His senses appear to be greatly heightened, especially when used in conjunction with his spider-sense. Most notably, his senses are so finely tuned as to allow him to use the vibrations of his strings to sense movement—much like actual spiders.

Regenerative Healing Factor: Peter's metabolism is greatly accelerated, thus allowing him to heal much faster than a normal human: He is able to heal from the Lizard’s claw marks on his chest and a gunshot wound to the leg without medical attention. Logically, he would also possess greater immunity to toxins and alcohol and drugs, and could overcome their effects by speedily metabolising them.

Spider-Senses:

“I have the tingle thing, just not for bread.”

A tingling in the back of the skull as time seems to slow to a crawl—with the power of Spider-Sense, even a distracted and unfocused Peter can react to danger with seemingly pre-cognisant speed and observe his surroundings in extreme detail, in fractions of time—he can even “feel” danger before it manifests, almost as if he was capable of looking a short time into the future.
This ability doesn’t seem to be restricted to Peter’s immediate surroundings, either: Miles away, he was able to sense the Lizard’s attack on the Williamsburg Bridge, as well as the presence of Electro in Times Square before he had even begun his rampage. Combined with his blinding speed and shocking reaction time, the Spider-Sense makes Peter a tough bug to squash.
Notably, however, he does not have the tingle for bread. So please don’t throw bread at him.

Wall-Clinging:

“Nana was just asking if you could get the cobweb, since you’re, like…up there.”

A refreshingly straightforward superpower name, wall-clinging allows Peter to, get this, cling to walls.
The surface he clings to is seemingly irrelevant: Unlike a real spider, Peter can scale smooth glass just as easily as he can climb tough brick. As well as climbing surfaces, the ability to essentially magnetise whatever Peter touches to himself also greatly assists in lifting, as well as holding onto people and objects—especially useful when swinging through the air.
The ability can be activated consciously, however it also functions on an unconscious level: Pressed between two sides of a ceiling window, Peter slept soundly, practically suspended from the air.

Amazing Intellect:

“He's one of Midtown Science's best and brightest. He's second in his class.”
“Second? You sure about that?”

Even without his powers, Peter Parker is a genius: Practically, he was able to construct his own Web-Shooters from simple spare parts, and in a more theoretical sense, he solved the decay rate algorithm that had stumped Dr. Connors for years. He also possesses a deep understanding of quantum mechanics, immediately deducing how he travelled to the Marvel Cinematic Universe by invoking string theory and matter displacement.
His creativity and intelligence has uses beyond engineering and theoretical physics, of course: It serves as a great boon in battle, allowing Peter to expertly analyse his enemy and figure out the best course of action them, taking into consideration the physical limits of the foe’s powers and the available resources in the nearby environment.

~ Welcome to Sanctuary ~

Hey! I'm still thinking on character ideas, but the premise really grabbed me and I've always wanted to do more slice of life RP: Count me in as interested!

ArcRift

"GO! GO!"

Name: Gyro Zeppeli, real name Julius Caesar Zeppeli.

Age: 24 (born 1866)

Gender: Male

Canon: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Steel Ball Run

Main Thread or Sandbox: Main

Personality:
"Eat shit, asshole! Fall off your horse!"
Gyro Zeppeli is perhaps best described, in personality and in combat ability, as a loose cannon of sorts.
True to form for an executioner, Gyro’s disposition initially appears to be one of steely cynicism: Unlike other competitors in the Steel Ball Run, Gyro seeks first place above all else, rushing ahead of everyone and fending off all who challenge him. He does not suffer fools gladly, even acting short and blunt with his friend, Johnny. He’s prone to insulting his enemies mid-battle, often goading them into brash decisions.

Gyro is quite a confident and proud person, and is very secure in himself: He owns custom teeth grills which display his family name and quite openly enjoys the company of a teddy bear when sleeping. The former may be seen as tacky and the latter, especially for the time, strange for a grown man—nonetheless, Gyro cares not for the opinions of others. He is especially proud of his mastery over the Spin, employing its use whenever possible and hailing the technique as the pinnacle of human potential.

Despite his cold demeanour, Gyro is not totally cynical. While he is prepared to kill when necessary, it is never his first action—he will simply incapacitate those who do not attempt to kill him, and will give those who challenge him the option of walking away. He is additionally an altruistic and sentimental man, offering help to Johnny Joestar and putting his life on the line in the Steel Ball Run to save the innocent Marco from execution.

Additionally, Gyro is quite eccentric: He is a fan of puns and gags, most notably creating a song about Italian cheese and displaying genuine excitement when Johnny enjoyed it. He has a flair for the dramatic and clearly enjoys it, often unable to hold back a grin and a signature “nyo-ho~!” when things go his way.

Ultimately, Gyro is a grounded yet optimistic man, having faith in the universe but always being prepared for unexpected turbulence along his path. He is virtuous and determined, and confident that victory is always possible. He can take things seriously when necessary and enjoy himself when appropriate, and displays relentless confidence and energy for life.

Equipment:
Steel Ball Racer’s Gear:

Steel Balls:

"This spinning steel...it's my weapon."

Developed by the Zeppeli family, the Steel Balls are exactly what you would expect: Balls of steel.

They have been specially crafted in such a way so as to perfectly conduct the Spin, and are thus the most potent way to use the technique. As a conduit for the power of the Spin, the Steel Balls are capable of many feats—they can maintain a constant, powerful spin for a considerable time, can return to the thrower like boomerangs, and operate at an effective range of 20 to 30 metres.

Gyro carries 2 Steel Balls, and possesses the knowledge and tools to create more provided with the right resources—having demonstrated the ability to scrape metal from train tracks to do so.

Valkyrie:

"Go the way your horse wants. It was born in this land, and it deserves your respect."

A stock horse with Australian roots, Valkyrie is Gyro’s steed of choice for the Steel Ball Run. Chosen for his stamina and endurance, his performance can be further enhanced through use of the Steel Balls.

Biography:

Gyro Zeppeli was born in the Kingdom of Naples, within the prestigious Zeppeli Family.

The Zeppelis being renowned doctors as well as servants of the King of Naples, Gyro lived in certain comfort. During his childhood, Gyro was trained in the arts of the Spin by his father Gregorio Zeppeli, as well as studying medicine to learn how to apply the Spin to people. At the same time, Gyro developed a taste for horse riding and began riding before he was nine. Mysteriously, the King's servant regularly inquired about the boy's age once or twice a month, every time Gregorio was summoned to the King's castle. At age thirteen, Gyro was promptly brought to the King's castle where Gregorio revealed to his son that the Zeppeli Family were secretly a family of executioners at the service of the King, and from now on Gyro started his training as an executioner. He began as an assistant for his father. At the same time, he was an apprentice surgeon for the family. In his late teens, Gyro was to become the next royal executioner as well as a surgeon, following his father in both aspects.

At the age of 24, one woman scheduled for execution became violent and almost killed an executioner. The woman slammed Gyro against the wall but Gyro neutralised her. During the struggle, Gyro lost his collar hanger; his father Gregorio also chastised him for his sentimentality, as he saw Gyro pensive looking at the woman and an old prisoner in a cell. When he found it again, it was in the hands of a little boy named Marco who was found guilty of treason because he served a traitorous lord. Out of duty, Marco has sewn Gyro's collar hanger with a fishbone, which was found and put the boy in trouble for carrying a dangerous item. Disturbed by the false charges as well as the fact that Marco was his first execution, Gyro asked for Marco's appeal. The protest made the news of the country and Gregorio disapproved of Gyro's behaviour. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain, but the King's servant explained to him that the king would give amnesty to political criminals if the country suddenly gained prestige, such as winning a famous horse race. Thus, against his father's wishes, Gyro subscribed to the Steel Ball Run race.

Two days before the start of the Steel Ball Run race, Gyro arrives at San Diego beach and presents himself at the registration office. Paying his fee, Gyro is given the number B-636 as well as a commemoration badge. A man approaches him and pretends to be interested in his Steel Balls but Gyro presses the Steel Ball against the man's palm, forcing him to knee. When the employee notes that $20 is missing from the fee, Gyro discovers that the man is a thief who stole one $20 coin from his purse. Gyro takes back the coin and completes his registration. Angry, the thief is arrested but manages to snatch a gun and point it at Gyro from behind, as the Neapolitan leaves the scene. The thief gloats about how easy it is to kill Gyro and swears to come to him during the race to kill him. Angered, Gyro tells the guards to release the man and give him a gun: Gyro accepts to duel the thief. He throws a Steel Ball at the thief's right shoulder and leaves, satisfied, when the thief points his gun again at Gyro, the Spin causes his arm to bend in the direction of his face and the thief shoots himself in the head. Since it was a fair duel, Gyro is left off the hook by the sheriff.

The duel attracts the attention of a particular man, Johnny Joestar, an ex-jockey who's become paraplegic. Out of curiosity, Johnny touches the Steel Balls and momentarily stands up. Shocked, Johnny requests to touch the Balls again but Gyro prevents him from doing so and tells him to get lost. Johnny swears to follow him during the race and find the secret of his Steel Balls.

Powers and/or Abilities:
The Spin:

"Believe in the Spin! The power of rotation is limitless! Trust in that!"

A technique dating back to the Neapolitan Middle Ages, the Spin seems deceptively simple: Simply put, it is a near-perfect rotation of an object, achieved by following the pattern of the Golden Rectangle’s spiral. Following this pattern produces a great amount of rotational energy, which is then transferred into objects via vibrations. While it may seem a strange or even useless ability at first, the applications of the Spin are both potent and varied.

-The Spin enhances the power of a projectile and thus can be thrown to inflict damage. A Steel Ball imbued with the Spin is like a miniature cannonball, and can destroy thick rock.

-The Spin can affect the body to harden it and easily transmit energy somewhere else, granting supernatural, if temporary durability. It allowed Gyro to become bulletproof and withstand the blast of an explosive Stand ability, only harming his leg.

-The Spin can be used to take control of the projectiles it is imbued to. Users of the Spin have control over how their projectiles react and can aim better, and can even boomerang the projectiles back to their hands.

-An object imbued with Spin can be used to transfer energy and power to other projectiles, for instance increasing the effective range of the Steel Balls.

-Spinning objects have a high rotation speed and thus can create a large amount of friction. Thus, they can hold objects in place like a cape to use as a sail, or unravel objects like tree bark.

-The Spin can also trigger muscle reflexes. For instance, Johnny's lame legs suddenly stood up when he touched a spinning Steel Ball. It allows one to control the movements of enemies to an extent, for instance immobilising someone and turning their weapon back at them via twisting their arm, as well as triggering a violent horse kick.

-The Steel Ball also numbs senses, meaning one cannot feel its effects: Gyro tore President Valentine’s ear off with a Steel Ball throw, and the latter did not realise until seeing it for himself.

-The vibrations of the Steel Balls can be used to remotely visualise and affect objects, for instance detecting hidden obstacles or making bottle corks on a table pop.

-To bring a clean, certain, and painless death, the royal executioners of Naples use the Steel Ball to immobilise those about to be executed and decapitate them swiftly. In this specific use, the Steel Ball is applied to the nape of the neck.

-The Spin can even flatten limbs and the body so that the target can twist themselves into narrow spaces.

-The Zeppeli Steel Balls can also affect the skin and tighten appearance to either make the target look wrinkled and malnourished or inversely beautify someone's skin and enhance their silhouette.
On one occasion Gyro applies Spin to himself to wring water out of his body, and can even use the Steel Balls to shave hair.

-Gyro can rotate water itself to create a makeshift sphere and deflect attacks.

-By rotating two Steel Balls near each other, Gyro can modify the density of the air to reflect light and create mirages, fooling enemies into wasting attacks.

Masters of the Spin can also employ a technique known as ‘Golden Spin’.

While humans can attempt to imitate the Golden Rectangle alone, it is difficult to do without a visual aid: It is incredibly difficult to recreate artificially, and requires a reference to draw from. Once a Spin user has a reference in sight, they can throw with the power of Golden Spin, creating an endless, infinite rotation. Gyro can utilise his belt buckle, which was shaped in accordance with the Golden Rectangle, as a stand-in reference. However, the most potent form of the Golden Spin can only be accessed by observing the Rectangle in nature. Thus, a Spin user can find themselves in trouble in unsuitable environments—for example, in a lifeless desert, there would be very few natural sources of the Golden Rectangle.

『BALL BREAKER』and the Super Spin:

"the shortest route was a detour. It was the detour that was our shortest path."

Power: A
Speed: A
Range: D (from Steel Balls)
Durability: B
Precision: C
Potential: B

Colloquially referred to as the Super Spin, this variant is a superior version of the Golden Spin which involves riding on horseback. This technique represents the most faithful emulation of the Golden Spiral possible.

Developed in the Middle Ages to bypass the shield and armour of mounted knights, stirrups were invented to harness the power of a running horse. The horseman must let the horse run with the force of the Golden Rectangle, meaning it must gallop at its most natural speed. At this perfect pace, the horse creates Spin energy; it can then be harnessed through the stirrups and passed onto the body, into the arm and wrists to further empower an object. Thus, a perfect rotation with an infinite amount of energy is created.

From this energy, Gyro unlocks a new ability: A Stand known as Ball-Breaker, with the power of Infinite Rotation.

Ball Breaker embodies the vast quantity of energy collected by a Steel Ball when thrown with Golden Spin. With Infinite Rotation, Ball Breaker can surpass all dimensional barriers: It can surpass D4C’s Love Train, which manipulates dimensions to redirect all misfortune away from its user. Additionally, it can continue even when time is stopped, and can totally ignore durability to tear apart its opponent.

Additionally, Ball Breaker possesses the ability to greatly accelerate cellular activity with its Spin. The most prominent effect of this power is to induce rapid ageing.



Intelligence:
"One step… I’m one step ahead of you!"
Gyro is incredibly intelligent, having graduated from university to become a doctor. Thus, he has an extensive knowledge of anatomy and medicine, being even able to perform surgery. This is of great assistance in combat, as Gyro can effectively target points of pressure in the human body with the Spin to execute certain techniques.