C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
B A T G I R L
C A S S A N D R A C A I N ♦ W E A P O N ♦ G O T H A M ♦ L E A G U E O F S H A D O W S
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
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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.
Cassandra Cain cares! That’s the best part about her. She’s going to be a bit older before she breaks free of her father’s control, at 17 instead of 8. And I was thinking that she would actually do it during this RP. So at the very beginning at least, this will be pre-hero Cassandra who is sent to Gotham by the League of Assassins for her first kill. She’ll do it, and come to realize that she’ll never be able to do it again and flee.
Her development mentally and vocabulary wise is going to be forever stunted by her upbringing and training. She’s going to be mute for the foreseeable future of this RP until there is a timeskip, and she won’t be able to read or understand the vast majority of spoken words at the beginning. And her fighting is going to be limited and unimaginative, a highly trained assassin doesn’t make her a good superhero.
However her martial skill and her body reading is going to be geared strongly to the high end of her feats and into the supernatural, soul reading, calculus-of-the-universe level skill. One Who Is All, that’s what they call her, the best martial artist in the world.
So throughout the course of this RP she will go from the world’s best/worst assassin, to vigilante, and then Batgirl, once she sees the symbol of the hero of Gotham and seeing how people react to it. How it gives good people hope, she’ll want to adopt the symbol herself.
And Gotham is a weird place, full of weird people, so the places of Gotham that Cassandra is going to go too will be weird and lively and surreal, because that’s my favorite interpretation of Gotham.
Cassandra’s first mentor/ Asian Grandma will be Jackie Fujikawa from Shadow of the Batgirl.
Cassandra Cain cares! That’s the best part about her. She’s going to be a bit older before she breaks free of her father’s control, at 17 instead of 8. And I was thinking that she would actually do it during this RP. So at the very beginning at least, this will be pre-hero Cassandra who is sent to Gotham by the League of Assassins for her first kill. She’ll do it, and come to realize that she’ll never be able to do it again and flee.
Her development mentally and vocabulary wise is going to be forever stunted by her upbringing and training. She’s going to be mute for the foreseeable future of this RP until there is a timeskip, and she won’t be able to read or understand the vast majority of spoken words at the beginning. And her fighting is going to be limited and unimaginative, a highly trained assassin doesn’t make her a good superhero.
However her martial skill and her body reading is going to be geared strongly to the high end of her feats and into the supernatural, soul reading, calculus-of-the-universe level skill. One Who Is All, that’s what they call her, the best martial artist in the world.
So throughout the course of this RP she will go from the world’s best/worst assassin, to vigilante, and then Batgirl, once she sees the symbol of the hero of Gotham and seeing how people react to it. How it gives good people hope, she’ll want to adopt the symbol herself.
And Gotham is a weird place, full of weird people, so the places of Gotham that Cassandra is going to go too will be weird and lively and surreal, because that’s my favorite interpretation of Gotham.
Cassandra’s first mentor/ Asian Grandma will be Jackie Fujikawa from Shadow of the Batgirl.
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:
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?
Cassandra Cain is my favorite member of the bat family tied with Batman himself. She’s a true believer, and I love how focused she is about redemption. And since this RP is freed from the necessary status-quo of comic books, Gotham can actually, y’know, get better! And Batman will be proven right, and the Joker won’t escape 20 million times and kill 2.5 thousand people every issue.
Cassandra Cain believes redemption is possible because if it isn’t, she’ll always be the weapon her father was going to use to take control of the world from the shadows. But she’s not all about the bad guys, she’s about saving the good guys, too. She’s going to try and build something special and fight crime and corruption at the source, not just the symptom. Some people need to get their heads knocked together for sure, but ultimately violence breeds violence, even the non-lethal kind. There’s gotta be love and humanity there, too. But of course, Cassandra, though she does have a good heart, has been separated from those two things for almost her entire life. David Cain, her father, will be present in the RP and I’m also going to go into their relationship in some arcs, and have stuff done with the League of Shadows.
Cassandra Cain is my favorite member of the bat family tied with Batman himself. She’s a true believer, and I love how focused she is about redemption. And since this RP is freed from the necessary status-quo of comic books, Gotham can actually, y’know, get better! And Batman will be proven right, and the Joker won’t escape 20 million times and kill 2.5 thousand people every issue.
Cassandra Cain believes redemption is possible because if it isn’t, she’ll always be the weapon her father was going to use to take control of the world from the shadows. But she’s not all about the bad guys, she’s about saving the good guys, too. She’s going to try and build something special and fight crime and corruption at the source, not just the symptom. Some people need to get their heads knocked together for sure, but ultimately violence breeds violence, even the non-lethal kind. There’s gotta be love and humanity there, too. But of course, Cassandra, though she does have a good heart, has been separated from those two things for almost her entire life. David Cain, her father, will be present in the RP and I’m also going to go into their relationship in some arcs, and have stuff done with the League of Shadows.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
I’m not exactly sure who Cassandra is going to kill yet. I could just make up a new character that only is for Cassandra like in the comics, but it could be someone else too if any of the other writers are up for that. To get her more involved in a plot line. I really do just kinda free style these kinds of things because I like it when other people's stuff throw curveballs at me. But yes she is going to be Batgirl and save the day and be the innocent angel/feral goblin child hybrid she's always meant to be.
In the meantime, I’ll write about some of Cassandra’s misadventures while she worked for the League.
In the meantime, I’ll write about some of Cassandra’s misadventures while she worked for the League.
S A M P L E P O S T:
Cassandra Cain stared at her reflection in the river. She dipped her scarred hand into it and felt the cool spring water wash over her hand, and the air drift over her face. A fish swam in the river. She observed how it saw the world around it, and as it hesitated in the waters, she narrowed her eyes and saw its intentions like one might detect a scent. As it darted carefree through the water, it found her hand waiting for it. Scooping it out of the water, she held it within her hands and considered its green scales and how they shimmered in the morning sun. How it had lived an entire life before this, and how, if she so chose, it could live an entire life more.
In another time, in near darkness, Cassandra wielded her curved blade. Shadowy figures moved from place to place, imperceptible. But Cassandra knew where they all were, and she knew where they were going. She could see their forms, hear their breathing, feel their will. It was as if she was seeing herself through their eyes. How they feared for their lives, how eager they were to prove themselves. Redemption. Redemption was all they sought. For one reason or another they had been sentenced to death, and if they could prove themselves worthy by striking her down, they would be welcomed back into the league of shadows with open arms. They loathed her, they were jealous of her, they thought her a monster and an invalid all at once. But she knew that on the other side of one-way glass watched her father, and he knew that this was no deadly challenge- this was an execution. Nothing more than practice. Cassandra was better than them. She would win. In her mind’s eye she had seen her bloody victory like an artist captures a muse. Now all she had to do was paint her work upon the world with masterful strokes. Masterly, Cassandra, she thought to herself in images and concepts. She saw how proud her father would be of her, of how he carried himself, of how admirable and heroic his strength and skill were. And in that moment, she felt him on the other side of the glass. Watching the encounter through enchanted glass that let him and his investors witness his weapon at work.
“Cassandra Cain is no mere martial artist. She is not a girl with a sword. She is death incarnate.” David said, watching her keenly. “She is far, far beyond such small ideas as ‘weight class’ and ‘reach.’” The other investors watched closely.
“Her first language is violence. She knows no words other than her own name and select key words an assassin could use to direct and command her.”
“She has no wants or desires except to make me proud.”
A little girl with her hairs tied up in pigtails carefully rose from her straw mat bed. Scaling the walls like a spider she went to her secret spot in the ceiling that she had poked, one night at a time, with her finger. Pressing her eye against the hole in the ceiling she saw the sea of stars above and wondered what was out there.
“No ambitions. No dreams beyond those of death.”
A young teenager took a stick to the gravel and sand and with a few quick strokes, created an image of a face. A girl with pig tails. Glancing over her shoulder, she hunched over her secret and added a bird. A deer. A fish. The sun. One of her keepers approached and she dashed her work away, concealing it safely within her memory.
“She only knows that she is treated well when she kills. When she does as I say. And thus, when she does as you say.”
A cool night on the shale roof. Her father had discovered her hidey hole and covered it up, beat her for it. And yet here she was, up here, with him, on the roof. And with him he had brought drawings of lines and dots, and when he put them into the sky Cassandra could see the artistry of the stars and the Gods themselves. When she gasped with child-like wonder, she felt strange things pulse through her father’s body. Doubt. A pinch of regret in a sea of dark ambition. Swallowed whole by cold, steely resolve. A rough hand took her by the shoulder and back into the complex below. The girl would never forget that. She never forgot anything.
“She is the perfect weapon, and nothing more.”
A rain of bullets. Her skill is an umbrella. For her father it was like he was shooting at a shadow in the corner of his eye. The gun was kicked out of his hand and a blade was pressed against his throat, and despite himself he smiled as he looked into her eyes. Nothing could be hidden from those two perfect blue spot lights. In that moment he saw her as an heir, a successor, but he had to shove those treacherous thoughts away because no one would accept his grand, monstrous experiment as a leader.
“Watch as she works. Behold her majesty.”
The doomed assassins came at her all at once, but it might as well have been one by one. Their blood was painted upon the dark wood with precise, geometric arcs. A single metallic tone as one of their blades was granted the honor of coming into contact with hers. One by one they fell, but it might as well have been all at once.
“She knows no fear. She knows no love. And she knows no mercy.”
Cassandra considered the fish in her hands and the life it had yet to live. How it wanted to breathe again, and how it didn’t know where its home was anymore. Its simple feelings were written in its eyes plain as day. It didn’t see her, but she saw it and everything its simple soul was made of. As she saw the soul of everyone and everything, and felt the roots of people and knew the hearts of trees. Carefully, gracefully, she submerged the fish in the water and watched it swim away.
Because how could one who knows the souls of others not see the one in herself?
In another time, in near darkness, Cassandra wielded her curved blade. Shadowy figures moved from place to place, imperceptible. But Cassandra knew where they all were, and she knew where they were going. She could see their forms, hear their breathing, feel their will. It was as if she was seeing herself through their eyes. How they feared for their lives, how eager they were to prove themselves. Redemption. Redemption was all they sought. For one reason or another they had been sentenced to death, and if they could prove themselves worthy by striking her down, they would be welcomed back into the league of shadows with open arms. They loathed her, they were jealous of her, they thought her a monster and an invalid all at once. But she knew that on the other side of one-way glass watched her father, and he knew that this was no deadly challenge- this was an execution. Nothing more than practice. Cassandra was better than them. She would win. In her mind’s eye she had seen her bloody victory like an artist captures a muse. Now all she had to do was paint her work upon the world with masterful strokes. Masterly, Cassandra, she thought to herself in images and concepts. She saw how proud her father would be of her, of how he carried himself, of how admirable and heroic his strength and skill were. And in that moment, she felt him on the other side of the glass. Watching the encounter through enchanted glass that let him and his investors witness his weapon at work.
“Cassandra Cain is no mere martial artist. She is not a girl with a sword. She is death incarnate.” David said, watching her keenly. “She is far, far beyond such small ideas as ‘weight class’ and ‘reach.’” The other investors watched closely.
“Her first language is violence. She knows no words other than her own name and select key words an assassin could use to direct and command her.”
“She has no wants or desires except to make me proud.”
A little girl with her hairs tied up in pigtails carefully rose from her straw mat bed. Scaling the walls like a spider she went to her secret spot in the ceiling that she had poked, one night at a time, with her finger. Pressing her eye against the hole in the ceiling she saw the sea of stars above and wondered what was out there.
“No ambitions. No dreams beyond those of death.”
A young teenager took a stick to the gravel and sand and with a few quick strokes, created an image of a face. A girl with pig tails. Glancing over her shoulder, she hunched over her secret and added a bird. A deer. A fish. The sun. One of her keepers approached and she dashed her work away, concealing it safely within her memory.
“She only knows that she is treated well when she kills. When she does as I say. And thus, when she does as you say.”
A cool night on the shale roof. Her father had discovered her hidey hole and covered it up, beat her for it. And yet here she was, up here, with him, on the roof. And with him he had brought drawings of lines and dots, and when he put them into the sky Cassandra could see the artistry of the stars and the Gods themselves. When she gasped with child-like wonder, she felt strange things pulse through her father’s body. Doubt. A pinch of regret in a sea of dark ambition. Swallowed whole by cold, steely resolve. A rough hand took her by the shoulder and back into the complex below. The girl would never forget that. She never forgot anything.
“She is the perfect weapon, and nothing more.”
A rain of bullets. Her skill is an umbrella. For her father it was like he was shooting at a shadow in the corner of his eye. The gun was kicked out of his hand and a blade was pressed against his throat, and despite himself he smiled as he looked into her eyes. Nothing could be hidden from those two perfect blue spot lights. In that moment he saw her as an heir, a successor, but he had to shove those treacherous thoughts away because no one would accept his grand, monstrous experiment as a leader.
“Watch as she works. Behold her majesty.”
The doomed assassins came at her all at once, but it might as well have been one by one. Their blood was painted upon the dark wood with precise, geometric arcs. A single metallic tone as one of their blades was granted the honor of coming into contact with hers. One by one they fell, but it might as well have been all at once.
“She knows no fear. She knows no love. And she knows no mercy.”
Cassandra considered the fish in her hands and the life it had yet to live. How it wanted to breathe again, and how it didn’t know where its home was anymore. Its simple feelings were written in its eyes plain as day. It didn’t see her, but she saw it and everything its simple soul was made of. As she saw the soul of everyone and everything, and felt the roots of people and knew the hearts of trees. Carefully, gracefully, she submerged the fish in the water and watched it swim away.
Because how could one who knows the souls of others not see the one in herself?
P O S T C A T A L O G:
Silence, for now.