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4,800 | 125 | 40 | 668 | 1,466 | The first 24 hours after the battle against Mr. Freeze were spent mostly getting over the shock of what he managed to do. After that, though, Archer replayed in the event in his head, but did so with a critical eye. If he could manage to last as long as he did against Freeze, then surely that meant he was capable of actually defeating him, but only if Archer could figure out where he went wrong in the fight. And there was one specific detail he couldn't get out his head the more he thought it over. Zero's ice was too weak. Nowhere was that more evident than his failed hammer attack, where the hammer itself broke on Freeze's armor upon impact.
"If I could just make my ice tougher, I can win next time..." he muttered to himself. His encounter with Freeze left him feeling better about himself, but not so much that he shirked on training. In fact, if anything he trained harder than ever now. Most of his training time he spent conjuring ice weapons, only to break them against target dummies in order to test their durability. Archer's working theory was that he could perhaps increase the water's density as it froze, which would make the weapons a bit heavier but also tougher to break, at least in theory. So far he couldn't feel any difference in his ice weapons, which likely meant he still needed practice with his own powers. The target dummies he used were made of bamboo mostly, in fact they were inspired by the same kind of practice dummies used to test the sharpness of swords in kendo. So far, though, the swords he tried sculpting either broke against the bamboo or snapped it without actually cutting it.
"Hyaaah!" he grunted, bringing down what felt like the millionth ice sword against the millionth dummy. The sword's blade lodged into the dummy, but then snapped in the middle, leaving Archer with a handle and blade-stub while the sword's tip stayed lodged in the dummy, "Argh! Come on! How long do I have to keep doing this before I get it right?" grumbled to himself in frustration. Combat skills, no matter what they were, took time to perfect, years even. But this wasn't necessarily about fighting, it was about conjuring a usable sword or other weapon on the fly so he could be better prepared for combat, turns out even that is a difficult skill to master.
He heard talking from lobby area, something about the El Camino that El Sasquatcho drove. Archer came out of the gym proper, still in his training clothes, and went to grab a water bottle out of the refrigerator. He'd been given congratulations by just about everyone on his bout with Mr. Freeze, but he still seemed as driven and serious as the day they first set up shop in Wildcat's gym. As he was grabbing the water, Archer was still muttering to himself about enhancing the durability of his ice weapons, seeming to have a one-track mind even when on break. | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,801 | 125 | 41 | 2,170 | 1,634 | The outpouring of support concerning his desire to install bullbars on his vehicle was staggering. While El Sasquatcho was all about teamwork and togetherness, it really only took one, maybe two people to do this particular job. Still, at least they were doing this together. Maybe he could even convince them to help move his stuff in.
"Meet El Sasquatcho in the parking lot! I will just be a moment!" he called, recovering his armloads of belongings and shuffling them off to his room.
Before joining the rest of the team, El Sasquatcho poked his head into the training room, noting Zero's growing frustration. He waited a few seconds for a quieter moment, and cleared his throat to announce his presence.
"Cero? Por favor... un momento of your time. I could maybe give some advice? The ice you are using, it is not strong enough for you to use like a sword, yes? It has no... como dice, de tensión um... Bendy strength! Yes, it does not bend. You hit, it shatters. Ice is not metal. Maybe a different tool?"
The masked wrestler realized that he may very well be coming off as a know-it-all, but he meant it kindly. Seeing as his teammate was already rather frustrated, he figured it probably wouldn't hurt. On the other hand, a fresh set of eyes may be just the thing to yield a simple answer.
"El Sasquatcho remembers from High Escuela, my Earth Science class, that the strongest ice, the very clear stuff you find in lakes that crazy people drive trucks over - it is made despacio, eh, very slowly. If you insist on making a blade, perhaps prudence would be in the making of it slowly, and well before you need to swing it."
"Or maybe you would better like to be left alone. If you want to talk more, we will be servicing the Vato Truck outside for the next bit of time."
The broad Luchador made his way back out, and up into the light outside. He strolled purposefully toward his El Camino, the cargo bed laden with various furnishings and personal effects. After a bit of rummaging, he recovered a particularly impressive and elaborate set of what looked like used ironworks, and a flat box with bold, block lettering, reading, "Push Bar Installation Kit, El Camino 1970". Putting his back to the door, El Sasquatcho slid down to a seated position, and took a piece of emory cloth to the rougher spots on his bullbars.
"Join if you like, my friends. El Sasquatcho needs to sand this a bit, lift it into position, and mount it onto the frame. Then, the detail work. El Sasquatcho has not decided whether to go with the matte black, or something more festive. The black would go well with the black cherry paintjob as it is, but... finalmente El Sasquatcho will want to accent it some."
"Anybody got any music?" | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,802 | 125 | 42 | 2,002 | 2,689 | Nice to meet you t- was all Nightlife could say as he turned to address the Amazon. At first he thought she might be Wonder Woman but he quickly figured out that it must be some other super-powered teen. After a moment he finished his sentence with "too. Nice to meet you too! Sorry I'm still getting used to being around other superheroes." Nightlife said trying not to sound like a crazy movie star fan. After a moment he decided he should probably get going outside in order to get to work on El Sasquatcho's van.
With a skip in his step, Ted eagerly walked outside with the other heroic teens who were going to help El Sasquatcho pimp his ride. When they left the confindes of the base Ted looked for a van of some sort but was confused for a moment as the the lovely luchador approached an El Camino instead of a van. At the mention of music Ted was about to declare his amazing assortment of songs on his phone when he realized that maybe the whole group wouldn't want to listen to an hour of Taylor Swift and Katty Perry songs. Instead he simply got ready to get to work helping out with the instillation of the Pushbar.
"So is this all of you guys? El Sasquatcho, Mouse guy, Robert, Robert's brother and tall lady?" He asked, curious about the team he would be crime fighting with. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,803 | 125 | 43 | 1,602 | 2,499 | Ves could hear, Archer grunting and growling from the training room. Back at it again with the training dummy's it seemed. Ves wasn't entirely sure about the whole of the situation that happened with Freeze, but it seemed to have an outlasting effect upon Archer. He'd hardly left the gym since the mission, and was practically always muttering under his breath about how his ice was too weak. Ves once made a joke that went something along the lines of 'I guess you're just not cool enough, like me' but it seemed to fall flat against the serious, Archer.
She went to the fridge as El Sasquatcho left for the car. It was a rather sunny day and fixing up a car was sure to be thirsty work. She raked through the fridge, moving various foods and drinks until she finally found what she'd been looking for. An eight pack of the off brand Coke. Now they had no choice, but to enjoy it. She held it under her arm as she followed Sasquatcho's path outside and practically leaped at the mention of music.
"I HAVE MUSIC!" She yelled, covering her mouth after noticing how loud she had shouted. Slightly embarrassed, she retrieved her phone from her pocket, before moving to the front of the car and plugging in the AUX cord. The songs began shuffling through as Ves' struggled to work the music player on the phone. Rather than just selecting a song and letting her playlist shuffle, Ves was desperately trying to make a playlist in the vain efforts that some of her 'weirder' songs didn't begin to play. After all, not everyone likes the neo-industrial German sounds of 'Kraftwerk'.
She thought herself lucky, Diana went to the effort of putting a massive list of songs onto her phone. To, Ves it was magic, not only could she play songs from a tiny box, but she could also add more on through a wire? It must have been sorcery. Finally, her playlist was made and began playing through the car stereo. She left the car and went around to the boot to help with the installation.
"So is this all of you guys? El Sasquatcho, Mouse guy, Robert, Robert's brother and tall lady?" Asked the newest addition to the team. She put her hand to her chin, thinking before answering.
"I think so, I'm Ves by the way, Mouse guy is Chester and Robert's brother is Daniel" She hoped she hadn't forgotten anyone, it wouldn't have been the first time though. | Secret ID: Vesta 'Ves' Petrakis
Alias: Argonaut
Age: 18
Home Location: Themyscria, althought she is currently situated in Metropolis.
Powers:
-Enhanced aspects of the human body
-Flight
-Healing factor
Weaknesses:
-Naivety
-Piercing weapons hurt her more than any other kind.
Equipment:
-Lasso of truth
-Bracelets of submission
-Tiara(explained below)
-A sword (Used only in extreme emergencies)
Appearance: Vesta stands at a whopping 7 foot. She has a lightly muscular physique that does not represent her true strength by far. Her hair reaches down to her lower back and is a raven black. Vesta's skin is more pale than it is tan, although not pale enough to actually make any obvious comment about it. Her eyes are a piercing blue and are easily recognizable among other eyes. Her equipment is similar to her sisters, both in style and hue except with Vesta's having darker shades of each colour overall, and with the blue being replaced with black. While much of the equipment that Vesta received remains the same, the bracers have suffered a design change that has made them longer and more stylized. Along with this, the tiara has been replaced with a sort of metal headband that can be used as a throwing weapon alike the tiara.
Her costume is much more modern than her sisters, and while she retains a similar sort of breastplate, hers goes up to her neck rather than stopping below her shoulders. She also has tight fitting black trousers under a small amount of armour along with boots. All of her armour is styled around the Amazons.
When off mission, Ves can usually be seen wearing some sort of band T-shirt along with jeans and whatnot. She hasn't really adapted to the fashion of the outside world and it took Diana some time to explain to her that going out in a toga isn't really socially acceptable.
Personality:
Vesta is rather naive but also very courageous and willing to help anyone who needs it. A well of compassion, Vesta treats everyone equally no matter their creed, race or gender. To the point where she'd rather convince a racist to change their ways rather than attack them. Vesta tries to make jokes, but they often fall flat because of her lack of knowledge about the outside worlds customs and whatnot. While she displays a great degree of confidence, Vesta is deeply insecure and often talks about how much better her sister is when people compliment her.
The one thing that Ves is most interested in is 80s music. Her favourite band is The Smiths and even mentioning them in a positive light can make just about anyone her new best friend.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio:
Vesta was born on the mythical isle of Themyscria. Vesta, like her sister, Diana was 'born' through her 'mother', Hippolyta creating her with clay and the soul of an unborn baby. Vesta was born quite a few years after Diana who had left Themyscria before Vesta had even begun her training.
Vesta's training began when she was around 15. Her training was a tough and rigorous regime, exhausting both her body and her mind while strengthening them at the same time. Much more emphasis was based around her mental skills though, as she was never really meant to be a warrior, just a trainer. Vesta was kept oblivious to the technology and customs of the outside world, only learning what a boy was after Diana visited home and told Vesta various things about the outside world. Of course, Vesta was still quite young and the explanation was cut short of "Girls, but with hair on their chins" and Vesta was left mostly in the dark about men.
Vesta was never intended to leave Themyscria at all, instead being trained to defend it from any danger and so she could train any new Amazons to a much more efficient rate than before. However, Vesta was curious and yearned to see the outside world after speaking with her sister rather often. Eventually, after much pestering, she was allowed to visit the outside world with Hippolyta thinking that she'd prefer the comfort of home to the harshness of the 'real' world. Of course, she was wrong.
During her short visit to the outside world, Vesta was contacted by Robin and subsequently got her arse kicked with the rest of the 'team' in the fight that concluded with Robins death. Shortly after, Hippolyta had equipment similar to that of, Diana's made for Vesta in order to help her better defend herself. Of course, Vesta isn't well versed in the use of this equipment just yet but is getting the hang of using them as quickly as she can.
Vesta loved the outside world. Diana showed her how differing the technology and culture was to that of Themyscria and Vesta finally saw a man. Although while she has seen a man she still confuses non-bearded men for women every now and then. She was allowed to stay in Metropolis, cutting her training short and leaving her under the supervision of her sister.
Notes:
-Favourite band is "The Smiths"
-Has a major crush on a young David Bowie
-Favourite colour is purple
-Her favourite song is "Love and Pride" by King, although this changes frequently.
Sample Post:
Vesta dodged under the knife of her attacker. Attacker was a generous way to put it, he hadn't landed a hit on her yet. She dodged left of one swipe and right of another, unhooking her lasso and unfurling it in one flick of her wrist. She jumped back as the attacker sent a jab towards her before swinging her arm back and sending the lasso forward in one fell swoop. The lasso affixed itself around the thugs wrist, and with one tug he was sent tumbling into the wall.
Vesta flew through the air with the grace of an eagle. Swooping between buildings and under cranes as if she were born of bird herself. She looked down to the terrified criminal she held in her sturdy grip. Her mind drifted back to hearing what various other superheroes had said on the news. They usually said something dramatic and heroic to the criminal in a time like this and Vesta would be damned if she couldn't think of something cool and inspirational to say.
"Young Lady that is no way to act" She said, an obvious lack of inspiration or any semblance of cool. She saw the assailant turn their head to her with a puzzled look growing on their face.
"Young Lady?" They spoke "I'm a man!" He screamed, visibly distressed and insecure about his appearance. Vesta furrowed her brow in confusion before the confusion turned to embarrassment and her cheeks grew red.
"But you have long hair?" She said, visibly confused. The thug, equally confused asked
"So?" In a seemingly calm voice for the current situation. Vesta didn't answer, she just looked forward and left the man to stew in his own anxiety. This was the second time this week that she'd mistaken a man for a woman, and it was only Wednesday. She made haste to reach the police station and drop off the criminal before things got even more awkward.
Vesta returned to her small apartment late that night. She was surprised to find a letter left on her bed. She opened the letter with intrigue and was confused to find a meeting place written on the paper. She debated going, but ultimately decided there was little point in not going and made a mental note of the date of said meeting. |
4,804 | 125 | 44 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Music poured out of the El Camino's vintage speakers as he finished the rough polish on his car's latest addition. Music quite foreign to El Sasquatcho's experience. He paused at the end of his efforts before the installation took place to stare incredulously into the vehicle, as if he could see the music that vexed him so. After a few seconds, he shrugged and retrieved a few tools.
"...strange, but at least it has the rhythm... Ok, my friends and teammates, here the deal. I have marked off the places where we are to make the attaching. Just line up the holes and, eh... attach. El Sasquatcho will need at least one of you to hold it in place (it is somewhat heavy), and at least one of you to quickly bolt in the, eh... well, the bolts."
The masked luchador walked around to the front of the vehicle, and in a cunning display of weight-bearing rebellion against gravity, lifted the front of the El Camino onto his shoulders, and slid it up to provide his heroic associates clear access to the front end and frame. The bullbars, vaguely reminiscent of a Chevy cow catcher attachment, lay matte black in the afternoon sun, waiting to be joined to the glory that is the 1970 Chevrolet El Camino SS LS6 Turbo, manual transmission, fully optioned street muscle utility vehicle.
"This is slightly more difficult than it looks. If you could make with the hurrying, El Sasquatcho would be most grateful." | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,805 | 125 | 45 | 1,537 | 4,313 | In a shady bar across town two men in suits met once again. One puffed from a cigar, as he always did. Grape. The other man who had a folder with him waved his hand to try and move some of the smoke from between them. It wasn't known if the smoker used this as a diversionary tactic or if he was just a dick like that. A waitress came by, her name-tag read 'Carrie'. She pulled a pen and a pad from her apron and asked...
"Can I get you boys something to drink? A beer, maybe a couple shots?" she said with a pep in her voice to try and sound cuter.
"I'll take a couple shots of whiskey, top shelf. None of that cheap $#!+. You want anything chief?" the smoking gentleman asked the other more timid guy.
"I don't on the job, sir. I have the latest info on those kids you inquired about..." the smaller guy mentioned looking over his shoulder as the waitress ran off to get the other guy's shots.
"Clearer intel on their powers and weaknesses. Several early recruits have already been taken out. Shame too, I liked the dog..." he continued sliding the man the folder with pics and basic info on all of the Titans, "The ice kid managed to put up a good fight against Mr. Freeze. The bird got her wings clipped though."
"None of the heavy hitters have done anything of note. Shame." the smoking man said as the waitress walked by, putting his two shots down with a wink from behind her glasses and walking off.
"The boys in the lab are still tinkering with some of Langstrom's formulas. The first test subject was a bit faster than they had predicted and managed to escape during testing. I'm sure Batman will let the kids chase this one, Man Bat was never much of a problem for the Bat and intel suggests Batman is out of town on League business anyway..." the smaller guy stated still waving smoke out of his face.
Later that evening...
Another day had gone by, and Grant had let Hector lead the team in making their own personal quarters a bit more personalized in the back end of the HQ. Daniel and his older brother had a single room, a little larger than the others', with bunk beds. None of the quarters had ceilings or doors, just a large glorified cubicle really on the other side of a pair of boxing rings, weights, and additional equipment. But still, peronal space was personal space. And Robert insisted on a swimsuit calendar.
"Do you really need to put that there?" Daniel asked.
"It's one of the only things I brought, so yeah. You wanna spar later? We won't always be in giant mode..." Robert suggested.
"Maybe in a bit, I'm kinda tired going to Metropolis and back to get more of our things. I can't believe Grant let you borrow his jeep..." Daniel commented.
An alarm went off and the group suited up and met by the monitor station ready and waiting. Wildcat came on the screen with details...
"GCPD just got wind a mutant bat or bird man was seen causing a disturbance. Aid the cops in taking this thing down, keep collateral damage minimal. I'm on my way from Midway, ETA about forty five minutes. League teleporters are down, so you'll have to make it to Industrial Park on your own..." Grant said on the other end of the line.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,806 | 125 | 46 | 2,170 | 1,634 | An incredible look of nigh spastic glee fixed itself onto the face of El Sasquatcho; a look which would have frightened small children and the elderly, and driven many a grown man to divert their eyes were his visage not covered by the always present brown and black sugar skull Luchador mask.
It was time.
In a flash of hair and agility, El Sasquatcho flew out of his street clothes and into his armor; his uniform, the symbol of his Hero-ness. It was official. His first mission. His first mission, and he was driving. Life, dearest readers, was sweet.
The bounding steps and leaps of joyous impatience brought our fuzzy protagonist out to the main doors to what he sometimes referred as his Fortress of Squatchitude. The vocal scrambler in his mask boomed in garbled fury as he intoned in a clear and proud roar, "HERO TIME, TEAM! BEAT FEET TO THE VATO TRUCK! AH HA HA HA!!!
The eager Luchador sprang to the El Camino, firing up four hundred and fifty horses of barely contained fuel injected power. The vehicle roared to life, seemingly as ready and anxious as its driver to be underway. Feeding the frenzy of his adrenaline and joy, from deep, deep within his music selections sprang into the light the song most appropriate to the situation, as if by instinct - The full, updated theme of The Lone Ranger. | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,807 | 125 | 47 | 2,002 | 2,689 | Ted did a fist pump before dashing out the the El Camino. Sure he could take his moped but that would involve actively driving his moped and he was more then sure that given his level of excitement he would crash. As they all came out Nightlife exclaimed "I call shotgun!" and with that he continued his hastened pace until he hopped in the passenger seat of the El Camino.
The mighty Nightlife had been on patrol before but he had never been sent to actively take down a criminal, or in this case, a mutant bird bat thing so this was a huge deal for Nightlife. "How fast can this thing go? Got any cool gadgets on this thing other then the bulbar? How many miles to the gallon do you get?" Ted asked excitedly to the magnificent luchador behind the wheel. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,808 | 125 | 48 | 1,537 | 4,313 | A somewhat shadowy figure watched at a safe distance as the bird creature toppled cars and scared everyone in sight. The half dozen or so cops on the scene were more concerned about this thing than the man who had top billing on Gotham City's Most Wanted List.
"If those idiots just wanted a freakshow, they should've hired ME!" cried the Joker with a laugh.
_________________
Across town, the Titan's ride slowed down and the brothers jumped out of the back while the Amazon flew ahead. After their fusion, Leviathan hit the water fast and began swimming at incredible speed. The creature was in for it...
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,809 | 125 | 49 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Chester was somewhat taken off guard by the alarm since it had been a while since that had happened and he quickly went to get suited up and ready for action. His depression was on a roller coaster ride right now, some days he would be happier and other days he would feel sad. This had caused him to start taking Vitamin E gummy candy to keep his depression in check and it did have some effect. This was bought with his own money and he didn't tell his parents because they would probably try to get him a therapist and that wouldn't work since he would have to tell him everything about his superhero secret life.
Once fully suited up, Chester put on his goggles and headed for the monitor room, waiting to get orders from either Batman or Wildcat. He listened to Wildcat give them the rundown on the situation and the idea of their foe being a mutant interested him. He too was a mutant in a way and Chester wondered if this creature had once been human and if they could make it human once again. When the senior hero explained to them that the teleporters were down and that they would have to find an alternative way to Industrial Park, El Sasquatcho declared his vehicle their mode of transportation.
Chester quickly followed the luchador to his Luchamobile, he was still going to call it by that name since he thought it was hilarious and had a catchy sound to it as well as a funny parody of Batman. He laughed when El Sasquatcho turned on the theme song to The Lone Ranger movie as he got into the back seat of the truck.
"Do you think that this monster was once human and if so should we refrain from hurting it too badly in case there's a way to get it back to normal?" he asked wanting to hear their answers as the vehicle came to their destination and then to a stop. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,810 | 125 | 50 | 668 | 1,466 | Archer was in his "room", if you could really call it that, when the alert was sent. He was on his iPad but dropped it on a nearby table when the alarms jolted him to his feet. After taking a moment to suit up, Zero rushed from his area and went to join the others in hearing Wildcat's debriefing. Apparently they were being called to deal with a mutant bat/bird creature. That was certainly a surprise, though mostly because Archer himself had always figured Man-Bat (if that was who this creature was) to be more of a myth than anything, like the Jersey Devil or something along those lines. But, no, apparently he was as real as Batman himself.
While the Amazon took off flying and, after fusing, the brothers took to the water and swam with what seemed like the speed of Aquaman. Everyone else piled into the El Camino, within which El Sasquatcho began blaring the most hilariously appropriate music imaginable. This made Zero facepalm himself, "...Really, Hector?" he deadpanned to himself under his breath. Zero himself curiously refrained from joining everyone in the car. Instead he stepped aside on his own, deciding that now was as good a time as any to test his latest technique out. Zero started with a sprint and, after making a quick leap, threw a ball of ice at the spot he would have landed on, freezing it and giving himself something to slide on. He'd seen this in a movie once, where a guy with powers like his own essentially skated along a series of ice platforms he created in his path. Thankfully, Zero was able to make sure that the ice pathways he created melted away quickly in his wake, the last thing he wanted was to litter the city with random frozen platforms for people to potentially hurt themselves on.
His method of travel wasn't quite as fast as flying or speed-swimming, so Zero knew he wouldn't be arriving first. Still, when he did reach Industrial Park, the ice meta almost immediately kept his eyes focused on the sky, hoping to spot the creature flying around somewhere, "Don't suppose garlic or a bit of holy water would do the trick, would they?" he asked himself sarcastically, and aloud. | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,811 | 125 | 51 | 2,170 | 1,634 | El Sasquatcho heard the various musings of his teammates, but was far too into his personal exothermic joy to respond with anything intelligible. One question did snap him out of it, at least temporarily; the postulate that the creature was once human, and should not be hurt too badly.
The Luchador's mood became grave for a half a moment, just long enough to speak aloud, "Señor Ratboy, we are not killers. Put it out of your mind."
The energy of the moment, angry at being suppressed for any reason (even the reassurance of a teammate), exploded from El Sasquatcho like an evening of corn liquor and bad clams. He leaned his head in close to Nightlife riding shotgun, close enough for him to clearly see the sparkle of near-insanity in his expressive brown eyes. A rictus cheshire formed, dominating the view of his passenger, as El Sasquatcho locked gaze with the team's newest addition.
Still looking at Nightlife, the eccentric wrestler applied even pressure on the El Camino's gas pedal. The engine flared and growled impressively, coupled with the squealing of rubber-on-blacktop as the tires fought to grip the pavement. When finally they did, the team parted ways with their previous location, leaving behind impressive tire striping and a small cloud of acrid smoke.
Just before the car hit the main road, El Sasquatcho shifted gears and fishtail-drifted noisily into traffic. They were off at a gallop, dragging justice with them. "Ey! One of you pretend to be a siren! El Sasquatcho does not want to stop at the redlights!"
After the team separated, the enigmatic Luchador addressed everyone through their earbud commlinks, "First time we have done this together, my friends. El Sasquatcho attacks better close and head on. Play to your strengths, give each other room to move. If nothing else, El Sasquatcho can help keep it busy."
Giving a moment for planning, a possibly unsound idea occurred to the furry Lucha Livre. "Miss Argonaut! If that thing takes to the air, El Sasquatcho wants you to use El Sasquatcho as a missile! SQUATCH TOSSING! AH HA HA!" | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,812 | 125 | 52 | 2,002 | 2,689 | Ted still grinned from ear to ear as the luchador's car took off onto the street and was hyped up even more at the Luchador's impressive driving skill. Nightlife was extremely excited to fight against an actual powered villain with a team of genuine heroes. Upon the chatter starting about a plan of attack, Ted chimed in "if this thing is part bat I could probably mess up its hearing by yelling at it! If nothing else I might be able to knock it outta the sky if I get close enough!" Ted exclaimed though he left out the parts about how if he was to close he could possibly kill the thing and if to far away then his screams will do pretty much nothing.
Ted hadn't really spoken to all the members on his team yet other then exchanging a few words here and there so he decided to try to strike up a conversation with Chester to pass the time. He turned around in his seat to look at Chester "so Chester, how'd you get into the heroing business?" Ted asked curiously with his excitement starting to sub-side. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,813 | 125 | 53 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Leviathan had made it to the area of Gotham where the creature was running rampant. It managed to duck into some nearby woods and seemingly caught Argonaut off guard. Leviathan was roughly ten foot tall and dwarfed both of them, so when the creature went airborne the giant teen swatted at it like a fly with his massive hands. While doing so, the fused hero looked around for the Amazon, but the creature had already taken down and nearby street lights. However, lights finally came in the form of El 'Squatcho's headlights. The cavalry had arrived.
"Does somebody wanna blast this thing out of the air for me? I lost track of Argo!" commented Leviathan as the team readied themselves.
Wildcat came over the Titans' com-links:
"Titans, I'm still 30 minutes out! Batman called in a favor and has GCPD clearing traffic for me, how you kids doing?" Grant asked over the roaring engine of his motorcycle.
"Just another day in Gotham..." Leviathan mumbled however his voice still boomed enough for everyone to hear it.
The Joker looked on from afar, now from the inside of an apartment who's tenants he'd already killed with his bloody straight razor.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,814 | 125 | 54 | 668 | 1,466 | Keeping up with the El Camino was simpler than he thought it would be. Since the car was more or less restricted to staying on the road, all Zero actually had to do was to take every shortcut he could think of. Since his method of travel ignored the roads, he was free to cut corners and be a lot more liberal with his chosen route. All in all, he had managed to arrive at roughly the same time as the car. That being said, after he snarked to himself about garlic, Zero scanned the area and spotted Leviathan and Argonaut, and they looked like they had already engaged.
As he took a few steps forward, he heard Wildcat's voice on the comm-link and responded, "So far so good..." said Zero, balls of ice forming in each hand, "...in fact I'm just about to test out my pitching arms!" at those last words, he started chucking softball-sized chunks of ice at the flying creature, but with a bit of a twist. The hunks of ice actually expanded into spike balls mid-flight. There was no telling how tough the mutant's skin was, but maybe, just maybe, these projectiles could knock the thing out of balance or something, force it into a crash landing perhaps.
In Zero's mind, taking on this beast was nothing compared to staring down Mr. Freeze, and that fact showed in his current confidence. | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,815 | 125 | 55 | 2,170 | 1,634 | The El Camino roared into the scene of the skirmish and squealed to a halt, headlights pointing in the direction where their missing comrade was last spotted. The joyous luchador spoke into his comm, at first to their elder chaperon, and then to the rest of the team.
"El Sasquatcho is rogering that, Senor Wildcat. We will be on this creature, like a fat niño on a cupcake! TEAM, one of us needs to find Argonaut! If we can't drive him from the sky, Leviathan, can you toss El Sasquatcho?"
The furry Hero ran within speaking range of the fused brothers, nodding with team affirmation. A piece of misplaced humor flowed (almost) unbidden from his mouth, regarding the nearby Leviathan.
"So, eh... which one of you works the legs?" | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,816 | 125 | 56 | 2,002 | 2,689 | When the car came to a stop Nightlife leapt out with a tremendous amount of enthusiasm. As soon as Ted got a look at the dark shadow of the creature he immediately wanted to get back in the car. He began to panic "I'm not ready for this. I-I this is way out of my league." Ted thought frantically.
At the mention of the missing Titan Nightlife saw his chance to stay out of harms way "ME!" the boy yelled as the suggestion was presented by El Sasquatcho. "I'll look for her." he said as he began to search for their missing comrade while looking over his shoulder to make sure the beast didn't head his way. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,817 | 125 | 57 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Chester wasn't too much in the mood to talk with Ted, but when his teammate asked him how he got in the hero business he gave him an answer.
"I just one day discovered that I had developed metahuman powers and decided to use them to do some good. Then Robin contacted me to join a team and now here I am" he replied, mentioning Robin made his depression rise up a bit and he decided to end the conversation there and just waited for them to get to their intended destination. He saw that Zero was traveling to the scene by means of his ice and Chester wondered what it would be like to have powers that didn't make him depend on a vehicle for swift travel.
Chester was glad that the luchador gave him some reassurance that they would try to figure out a way of stopping the beast without killing it. The last thing they needed was to kill a person regardless of how they had changed into a monster, the news media would have a field day with that. Once they got to their destination Chester quickly got out of the car to try and get a look at what they might be facing. Laviathan was ordering one of them blast the creature out of the air, but Chester was useless in that department and he would need to get up close to the beast to be any use if the creature wasn't on the ground.
Then Grant's voice came on over the communicators and told them that he was thirty minutes away from their location and also informed them of the GCPD helping keep the civilians away from the area.
"We're doing just fine" Chester replied after giving a facepalm at El Sasquatcho's over excited response to their mentor. He then looked at the rest of his teammates.
"So I think Zero can force the creature out of the skies and once it's on the ground me and my rats can keep it from taking to the skies again" Chester explained to them and several dozen city rats started to gather around him coming out of alleyways and sewer drains on the streets. His pet rats stayed on his shoulder and they showed no fear of the coming battle.
"I hope that there will be food after this battle, I'll be starving" Archie said to him.
"Try to think about something else besides your stomach" Amy retorted in an annoyed squeaky voice. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,818 | 125 | 58 | 1,537 | 4,313 | At some point the giant grazed the creature and the ice manipulator hit his mark. Rat Boy seemingly had the creature surrounded when he hit the ground, but the creature bit through one of the rodents. The Titans were on the way to scoring their first win, but where did the Amazon disappear to? The newest member of the team, Nightlife, saw somebody loading Argo into a van but somebody came up behind him and knocked him unconscious. When he came to, the Titans were standing over him with Wildcat. The proper authorities were called in to deal with the creature. The boys were separated and the giant wasn't towering over everyone now. EMS crews were also on the scene with one worker by the Titans and Nightlife.
"Hey kid, you ain't supposed to sleep on the job. You see anything before they gave you the KO?" Wildcat asked as the boy gathered his thoughts.
Ted got up groggily, rubbing his head he tried to recall the events from before he went out cold. Suddenly it all came running back to Nightlife as his face filled with shock "Argonaut! They took Argo!" Ted said, quickly getting to his feet but almost falling down thanks to a head rush. "We- we gotta go find her! Some people in a van took her!" Ted said trying to get all the facts out so they could stop standing around and start looking for Argonaut.
"Unless you got something better than 'guys in a van' we're gonna have to wait for Bats on this one. You guys load up and we'll meet back at HQ..." Wildcat instructed.
The EMS worker aiding the Titans stayed away from everyone else asking for medical attention and talked into an ear piece after the Titans all walked away.
3:24 AM, several hours later...
Half of the team is already asleep, but a few of them remain on the ready side of things. Grant is also awake, helping Daniel and the younger Ted on their fist fighting skills. An older model phone rang. It happened to be bright red and by a statue on an important looking table. Grant kinda jogged over to it.
"You think that's his Bat-phone?" asked Daniel pausing for a minute in one of the boxing rings when their mentor ran off.
"Beats me, who knows what half the stuff in the place does. It's like being in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory except the delicious candy is actually just a bunch of training equipment and non-lethal weaponry." Nightlife said as he rolled his shoulder back in an attempt to stretch it out.
Wildcat ran back over to the group. A look of concern was all over his face. All the wrinkles made it that much easier to tell when the older model hero was having a hard time. One of the kids, that was supposed to be HIS responsibility, had been taken. And now, he knows who kidnapped the Amazon powerhouse.
"It was Bats." Grant said to the point, "The Court of Owls has Argonaut. Batman says the rest of you are on lockdown. This is no longer a situation for the 'Titans of Gotham', and I reckon a senior superhero isn't who Batman wants on the front line..." he stated kinda putting his head down.
"From what I read on the files, the Court takes younger individuals and turns them into their agents. Talons I think they were called. If THAT'S what they've got in mind for Ves... Grant... she can rip tanks apart with her bare hands." Daniel tried to understand where Batman was coming from.
"I was fighting nazi-supermen before 'metahumans' started wearing underwear on the inside. And Argo was MY responsibility. I should have been there." Wildcat said, really having a hard time with what was going on.
Three nights later...
"You are ALL to stay in this HQ. You got that?" Grant said in civilians clothes to the group, "I gotta make a food run. Until Batman can get a lead on the Court, y'all are presumably targets.
Ted Grant wasn't gone for more than fifteen minutes and the sky became... gray. With several dozen pairs of red eyes glowing in the night through the wind and decades old buildings and skyscrapers of Gotham. These things were obviously the final form of the creature from several nights ago...
But chief among them, leaping and half gliding in between further distances... was what appeared to be Argonaut. The Court's newest Talon.
Screams could be heard throughout the city.
~KL~/rocketrobie2 | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,819 | 125 | 59 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Seriously, start almost anywhere in the two or so hours and let it fly.
Rick Ashley's around the 2:15:00 mark, btw. :P
Indecision played on the features of the masked Luchador. Not that anyone would know, the hairy youth wore that mask every moment of his life. They were all told very directly to stay put, but that was before the situation changed.
Massively.
Their elder trainer, while possibly still able to mop the floor with his team, was caught out there underneath a sky blotted dark by Owlbeasts. Not just the owl creatures, but their former teammate. This could spell trouble unless the cavalry arrived, and quickly.
Hastily, El Sasquatcho hit his last train of thought with a mental eraser, and tried repeatedly to overwrite his unspoken misstep about Ves. She wasn't a "former" anything. She was still their friend and colleague. The great Argonaut just had her head hijacked by some people, is all. Some people that, if met under the right circumstances, El Sasquatcho would be using the back of their skulls in which to serve menudo. After being properly challenged and summarily splatted, softball bat style, on the nearest hard surface.
He straightened, and solemnly moved to recover his armor. As he donned his protective gear, he spoke aloud, so that all those crowded in the main room could hear his voice as they gazed at the television or looked out and to the skies, "Our friends are out there. Both of them. If Señor Wildcat is correct, and we are the next targets, they'll be coming here anyway. Let's suit up."
El Sasquatcho traded out his mask last, adjusting the vocal augmenter. "If they come in here, or we can lure them indoors elsewhere, they lose their advantage of flight. The cavalry will know exactly where to find us. Let's give our friend a warm welcome.
The hairy luchador jogged into his quarters and sat in front of his laptop for a scant minute, just enough time to punch in a YooTube search and bluetouth it to the PA and his personal electronics. Something Vesta would like. Something El Sasquatcho could move to. Something that may remind the wayward Amazon of the last time they had fun together, and crammed many spicy wings back.
Activating his earbud communicator, he attempted to contact Wildcat, unsure as to whether he even had his with him at the time. It seemed of little matter. The convenient timing in which the attack started seemed to point toward a coordinated effort to single the team out, if they were indeed the next targets of this mysterious group of villainy.
El Sasquatcho shook his head and pressed the PLAY icon on his machine, routing the link and blasting the remixed sounds of the 1980's to the various devices and speakers at their disposal. Whether they stayed to defend or took the fight outside, some of her favorite music would follow, an unorthodox but touching background to their work which must be done; the fighting theme of the reluctant but determined combatant, the cheerful juxtaposition of electronic melody over the sounds of heartbreak and battle.
With tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, he whispered in a hoarse, augmented voice, "Revolución, mi amiga. Let us dance." | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,820 | 125 | 60 | 668 | 1,466 | Neith, out of commission... and now Ves was taken by owl freaks so they could do God-knows-what to her. It made Archer's blood boil thinking about it, especially since both of those losses were on his watch, he'd been present at both missions and failed to save either of his teammates. And, as if looming over both of those losses, there was Deadshot and Multiplex and what they did to Robin. Sitting outside one of the training rings, Archer silently shuddered, his blood seemingly coming to boil. The lockdown that Batman ordered didn't help matters, since now the team was stuck at the Gym and unable to do anything at all. Archer was adamant about searching for Ves, but dared not challenge Batman's authority.
But how many more losses would this team have to suffer before they finally got their act together? Or rather, before Archer got his act together? Well, he didn't have much longer to think about it. Grant left on a food run, and not a few minutes after he was gone did alarms start blaring and warning the Titans that intruders were approaching the Gym from the skies. It could only be the Owls, only they could attack from the skies in such numbers. Worse still, they had Ves leading their charge. Great, so now they'd have to fight an Amazon on top of everything else. Needless to say, their chances did not look good.
Hearing 'Sqatcho suggest they suit up, Archer was all too eager to get on his feet, "Don't have to tell me twice!" he exclaimed and ran for his gear. It took him all of a couple seconds to suit up, and Zero found himself standing at the front door leading outside, almost eagerly awaiting whatever crook or villain would foolishly come inside and provoke his attack. In fact, he encased both his fists with ice in anticipation. Luckily, he learned from internet searching that rapidly cooled water can form a denser ice called amorphous ice, so Zero started focusing his training on trying to form weapons out of the stuff to see if they were any more or less effective, these ice-fists would make for a serviceable test run.
"Bring. It. On!" | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,821 | 125 | 61 | 2,170 | 1,634 | The techno remix of another 80's hit cycled into the PA, just as a burst of awareness hit El Sasquatcho, cold as his companion's new ice knuckles. "We need to make exits unusable from the outside, Cero! El Sasquatcho does not want to get surrounded by slobbering were-owls in the first five seconds."
The Luchador snapped his head back to the gym area, eyes widening, a cheshire grin plastered on his face. "Por favor, if someone can get the points of egress, El Sasquatcho has a wonderful, awful idea."
Leaping and bounding back into the gym, El Sasquatcho returned in a moment, wheeling the racks of freeweights behind him. "Now, these will make great things for El Sasquatcho to hurl at things, but this..."
Another moment had the burly, sadistically grinning wrestler loping back, each of the sparring practice robots over his shoulders in an awkward (but effective) fireman's carry. He placed them in the common area and began moving furniture back. Smiling, giggling with nigh moronic glee, El Sasquatcho turned the difficulty level up to maximum, and set the pugilistic automatons to accept voice commands.
"Heh heh heh... Those metal bastardos are going to have new friends to play with today..." | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,822 | 125 | 62 | 2,002 | 2,689 | Ted looked out into the night with almost absolute horror as the other Titans went about making preparations. Nightlife had a lot of strengths but his one biggest weakness was his lack of courage, at least in the given situation. He had freaked out at the prospect of fighting one evil bird bat thing but now the team would have to fight an army of the creatures along with a now very intimidating former Amazonian teammate. The only thing Ted thought might give him an edge would be that he had yet to flaunt his powers to the group. He told them about his super yelling but withheld actually using the ability since he did not have a good amount of control over it. He hoped that he might be able to use his powers to take the Amazonian by surprise or drop a few winged monsters with his screech.
Overall though Ted wasn't likening his odds in the fight.
He turned to see that someone had put on some sweet tunes and that all of the Titans were taking positions as were the training dummies which Ted assumed were brought out for fighting the beasts. "Please let those thing not get in here, please let those things not get in here" Ted chanted under his breath as he took up his position beside El Sasquatcho. He hoped that being in close proximity to another Titan would help his odds in the fight. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,823 | 125 | 63 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Chester was glad that the their plan had worked for the most part and that the owl creature was defeated, but things went from good to bad when Ted informed them that Argonaut t been kidnapped and they were unable to know who was behind this. He felt bad about losing another teammate, how could this have happened? It seemed that things were getting worse and worse with every mission and he wondered who would be next to experience misfortune.
After getting back to their base, Chester decided to take a quick shower and hoped that the worm spray of water would help to calm his nerves and relax him. After he got out of the shower Chester dressed in his pajamas and tried to get some sleep, but he found that sleep wouldn't come to him. His mind was swamped with the thoughts of what had happened to Argonaut and of the possibility of her being tortured and killed at this very moment. After a few failed attempts at sleeping Chester got up out of his bed and took Amy and Archie out of their cage and headed to the main area where he saw that a few other of his teammates were still up as well and he greeted them.
That's when he heard Grant explain to them that Argonaut had been taken by the Court of Owls. Chester had never heard of such an organization and it didn't sound like one he was eager to meet.
three nights later
Chester was annoyed that their supervisor wasn't letting them go out and just wanted them to stay inside. He wanted to be out there helping find Argonaut and instead he was stuck here with the others. After Grant left Chester wondered if they would ever see their teammate again. That's when his sensitive ears picked up the screams of civilians not too far away from HQ. When he went to get a closer look Chester saw that among those vile creatures was Argonaut now a Talon for the Court. It pained Chester to see his teammate made a puppet for this organization, but he had to become focused.
They were going to have the enemy come to them and that was bit of a disadvantage for Chester, his rats would only be able to end the building once Talon and her monsters did so first. He sent out a telepathic call for the city rats to gather around the gym and wait for an opening to be made. As he did this Chester also quickly went to go and suit up for the coming fight. With his heart racing quickly and his adrenaline pumping Chester prepared himself for the creature's arrival.
"Just so you guys knows, I won't be able to have rats come to our aid until these monsters break into here" he explained to his teammates as he stood beside them. Zero seemed as eager for a fight as always and El Sasquatcho bringing on the tunes.
"Remember, since Talon is Ves we have to try and take her down without possibly killing, that being we also to remember that she's an amazon and has superhuman strength, we'll have to be really care and try to take her out of the fight as quickly as possible" he instructed them as he prepared himself for the coming assault. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,824 | 125 | 64 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Dozens of Man-Owls took to the skies of the city, terrorizing whatever got in their way. Some of them removed children from their parents with their feet and talons, others successfully ate the children they abducted. Many of the creatures were strong enough to lift small cars on their own. And then there was the Court of Owls' newest Talon. Vesta 'Ves' Petrakis, aka Argonaut, was a wonderful girl and once the powerhouse of the Titans team. Now garbed in the armor of the Courts' agents, she lead the charge towards Grant's Gym.
Back at HQ...
The team had readied themselves at the sound of 'Squatcho's YouTube playlist. With the two holo-droids sparring in a ring upstairs disguised as Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed, the stage was set. The large skylight in the middle of the tall gym ceiling was shattered and the Man-Owls poured in, at least a dozen in total. The droids not putting up much of a fight against the strength and speed of the winged adversaries, the team was on edge downstairs in the actual base and HQ.
Robert and Daniel fused to become Leviathan. The taller ceilings in the Gym and HQ giving Levi the chance to work indoors, he had several of the larger weights brought down by El Sasquatcho ready to toss live frisbees. The others were ready as well but oddly enough it got quiet save for the luchador's music. The calm before the real storm.
Argonaut, now just another Talon, punched through the floor exposing the base. As the Man-Owls entered so did the rats of the city. It was actually quite the distraction and gave the strongmen of the group time to take a few creatures out of the air with the free weights. One of the creatures however, managed to rip off Parasite's arm. Namely, the one attached to her insectoid symbiote.
The arm itself fought back with the symbiote creating an insectoid construct armor to protect itself. The girl, Caitlyn, was in shock though and passed out from the pain. Already somewhat healing the stump that remained in place of her limb.
The Amazonian Talon eyed the strongmen, who were making quick work of her creatures. With a flying uppercut the likes of which nobody could have prepared for, Ves sent Leviathan flying through the HQ and Gymnasium towards the Gotham harbor. Levi could be heard screaming in the distance...
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,825 | 125 | 65 | 668 | 1,466 | Things almost immediately went FUBAR. They used Ves to essentially kick in the door, as it were, and from there the gym became engulfed in chaos and fighting. Ice-fists at the ready, Zero moved to launch himself into an uppercut against an approaching Owl-Man. The idea was to let him make the first move and, once it dived itself closer, Zero would hopefully strike fast enough to knock it off course, preferably down to the floor where he could conceivably finish it off. Zero's punch hit, but he barely missed the window of opportunity and grunted painfully when the owl's talon's grabbed him at the ribs and then flung him over the nearby kitchen counter. From somewhere in the other room, he heard a scream that sounded like Parasite. No, no no! He was not going to let this end like the last missions! He refused to!
Feeling warm bleeding from his side, Zero staggered to get up, but stayed low behind the counter so the owl might hopefully believe it successfully killed him. Zero cursed under breath, realizing now that direct attacks against these things just wasn't feasible for him. He just didn't have the kind of strength or durability that 'Squatcho or Levi had. A moment of thought and he decided what his strategy should be. These owl-men attacked from the air, so the only reasonable way to go about fighting them would have to be to take that advantage away from them, but how? Then it struck him, something he remembered from Biology class earlier that semester. Birds' wings were only strong enough to lift the bird themselves in flight, and small prey if the bird if question was a predator. If soaked, their feathers and bodies could become too heavy to remain lifted by the wings. Ducks were the only exception, since their feathers were evolved and groomed in a such a way that water literally slid right off their backs. Somehow Zero doubted that these owl-men could say the same for themselves. He just hoped the earpieces were still working.
"We need to... activate the sprinkler system!" he attempted to say through his piece, having to interrupt himself for a painful breath, "Birds can't fly as well when... ugh, when wet!" after that he frantically looked around himself in the kitchen. Surely there had to be a lighter or something laying around. He just needed some fire, even a small flame would do along as he could get it to reach the smoke detectors. | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,826 | 125 | 66 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Chester could hear the pounding vibration of Ves' heavy footsteps and he could tell that she was approaching. The rats he had gathering outside gave him a clear view of the oncoming enemy thanks to his power of being able to perceive everything through the senses of other rats.. He chose to have his small allies wait for there to be an opening in their headquarters since it would be much more hard to have the rats fight out in the open. This was going to be a double edged sword since by waiting for the enemy to attack meant that there was the possibility of Ves taking them all down before they could retaliate.
"I've got a really bad feeling about this" he said to the others as he heard Ves' footsteps come ever closer and then there was a loud boom as the mind-controlled Amazon burst into the gym with her army of Owl-men following right behind. The second Chester heard the entrance to HQ burst apart he commanded the rats to enter and go on the attack. He had swarms of rats leap on and start gnawing at the owl monstrosities and Chester commanded the rats to bite at the beasts' wings first to disable their ability to fly. He chose to let Leviathan and El Sasquatcho handle Ves, Chester was confident in their capability to handle the Amazon.
Unfortantly that confidence almost completely disappeared when he saw Ves punch the fused hero with so much force that it sent Leviathan flying out of the Gym. It was like watching an episode of Dragon Ball Z and Chester began to feel a sense of dread, never had he thought that Ves was that strong as a young Amazon and this worst situation to see that be demonstrated.
"Oh fuck!" he cursed to himself and decided that it was time to shrink and go on the attack with his tiny soldiers. Chester was certain that if they didn't take out Ves immediately she would easily take down El Sasquatcho and then Zero would be next. His mind was racing with what he could do, her new Talon armor would make it harder to find an opening for his rats to exploit so he would need to have them attack her exposed midsection and try to get through her headgear. Chester summoned three hundred rats to him and he hopped onto the back one of them to ride. A line from a movie then popped into his head and he felt the need to quote it.
"SPARTANS PREPARE FOR GLORY!!!!" he shouted and then commanded the rats to attack with full ferocity. The rats would then leap onto the Amazon and start to bite at whatever part of her body they could bite into as well as well gnaw through the material in her mask to try and get at her face and attack it. Chester wasn't going to let them give any quarter, it was their survival that was on the line and he hoped that Ves would understand. Once his mount got onto the Amazon he started to quickly clime towards her head making extra sure to avoid getting hit. His telepathic connection with the rats would be able to alert him to any of her retaliations even if he didn't see it coming and Chester would try to dodge whatever attack was thrown towards. Most importantly he and his rats would need to hold on as tightly as possible to avoid being thrown off. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,827 | 125 | 67 | 2,170 | 1,634 | The Titans, those that remained, had a solid plan going. One that would bottleneck the baddies and make the odds of their survival something slightly less lopsided than Tragically Suicidal. They braced for the impact of their inevitable battle; waiting anxiously for the wave of combat to crash on the rocks of their reinforced position, ready, tensed, aware.
Things did not go as expected.
Part of their plan remained intact: The use of freeweights as missile weapons allowed Leviathan and El Sasquatcho to hold off the first handful of man-birds. Confidence, born of their overwhelming numbers coursed through the genetic aberrations, caused the first wave of the encroaching army to be caught unawares. One gave a particularly satisfying squawk as a forty-five pound discus of pure ouch crunched into it, propelled by an adrenaline and habañero fueled Luchador.
Then it happened. The swarm got the better of their position. From somewhere just out of his range of vision, El Sasquatcho heard a scream he recognized as belonging to his teammate, followed shortly by a sickening pop as her arm tore free of its flesh and ligament moorings. Even over the fluttering of thousands of feathers and the sounds of superpowered melee, Parasite's anguish echoed before stopping short.
Leviathan took to the skies next. Flight being absent from his power set, his sudden change of location (due in no small part to Ves's fist) was a cause for concern. El Sasquatcho remained the last of the Titan's hitters still active, logically the next target of the new Talon's attentions.
His earbud communicator let him in on Zero's idea. Activating the sprinklers didn't seem like a feasibility at the moment, short of finding some way of starting a fire in the middle of the melee. How he could accomplish this... it seemed very improbable.
The remixed 80's music played on, seemingly the only thing functioning properly in their (possibly short) career as Heroes. If they got out if this, El Sasquatcho was going to petition for entry into the Justice League. He was fairly certain the guys in the Watchtower didn't have to deal with this crap. At least, their life expectancy seemed more optimistic. First things first, though.
The hairy Titan glanced back to see how his smaller teammate was faring against the flock, just in time to see the effects of his rodent stampede. With Rat Boy no longer taking a defensive posture near the larger Luchador, El Sasquatcho took to fighting with greater freedom and range of motion.
His technique seemed to echo a mindset of meditative detachment with undertones of urgent desperation. He was flawless in pursuit of causing the most amount of hurt in the flashiest way possible. Economy of motion clashed solidly against martial gymnastics, raining pain down upon his adversaries with the proficiency of a man unconcerned with his own safety, and grace unwitnessed in a combatant of his proportions.
El Sasquatcho was fighting the best battle of his life, certain that it was likely his last.
He caught a sharp beak in one hand, curling it around before it could clamp onto his squishier appendage. A quick cartwheel away from Argonaut served to put more space between himself and the preternaturally powerful Talon, and transferred the energy of the movement into the neck of the owlbeast. It flew, head off-center, into a cluster of other of its kind.
From his new position, El Sasquatcho assumed a low stance, and let the beat of the music still playing serve as the rhythm of his footwork. The last few weeks of Capoeira training blended well with his capacity as a wrestler as he flowed into a modified ginga dance, daring the assembled owls to move closer. The instant one did, he clipped its legs and took it down to the ground, slamming a heel into its face. This flowed into a grapple; the Luchador rolled the beast over himself, bracing it as a shield against the attack of another one nearby. Quickly, he kicked the both of them high into the air and kicked himself back up onto his feet, bracing for the next attack.
At that moment, something strange came over El Sasquatcho. It was a freeing feeling; as if his body were suddenly lighter and his mind filled with passionate optimism. It was as if, in that span of time, the shards of what could be crystallized around what he needed to have happen. He felt as if he could flip a coin a thousand times, calling it accurately every single time. This was a power he had tapped into before, in small ways, always not at his bidding. Today it was strong, vibrant. Desperation and determination parted the way for its arrival, and the being known as El Sasquatcho hummed with it, more than ever before. He did not know how long it would last, and sought to take advantage of it while he could.
Eyes, bright with confidence, matched an almost cheerful grin as he sprinted two steps toward Argonaut and slid under the grasp of a swooping owl. He grabbed hold of its taloned feet, allowing its momentum to pull him back up before twisting them around and kicking himself into a spiral, taking the beast with him. By the time they both hit the floor, El Sasquatcho was already on top of it, burying an elbow into the creature's sternum.
Rick Astley's remixed wonder caressed the air, causing the masked warrior to break into song amid the chaos. Grabbing the wings of another beast, he paraphrased the line, "El Sasquatcho never gives you up..." before slamming his head into the monster's face.
It was as if he were singing to Argonaut, his friend. Vesta, the naive girl he with which he shared laughs and hot wings. Somewhere in the carnage, he locked eyes with her in an attempt to tell her this.
Another beast fell to the onslaught of of the energized Luchador, thrown into a paralyzing suplex after being snatched from the air. "El Sasquatcho never lets you down..." He rolled over the fallen beast, using the transferred kinetic energy to fling it above his head. A powerful jumping drop-kick propelled it into another section of the swarm, disrupting the overall flight pattern of the mutants above. Creatures slammed into each other, bringing their overall organization into fractured chaos.
"El Sasquatcho does not run around, nor desert you..."
Spying one on the floor, battered about by its fellows trying desperately to regain an orderly flight pattern. Groggy, but still conscious, it was seized by the ankles and spun viciously by the hairy luchador, around and around, picking up speed.
"El Sasquatcho never makes you cry; he will never say goodbye..."
When he finally let go, the great Were-Owl streaked outward on a solid, unerring path, flying into the kitchen area. Its head connected solidly with the microwave, causing it to sputter and flare to life with static-popping fire, acrid black smoke and the smell of feather-frying ozone parting the ambient neutrality of the air. If the sprinklers were still active, a short electrical fire in the kitchen area would be enough to set them off.
"El Sasquatcho never tells a lie, and hurts you."
There was now open space between himself and Vesta. Knowing full well he could not match her strength for strength, he opted for a less direct approach. She was strong - no doubt - but she only weighed as much as he did. Maybe less. Snatching an attacking Owl into an armlock, El Sasquatcho pummeled it to semi-consciousness and leapt over it, a tight hold maintained on the thing's shoulders. As soon as his feet hit the floor, the burly wrestler ducked and bowed forward, releasing the creature in a graceless hurl at the new Talon.
Hoping that his skill and the right amount of enhanced probability lined up to provide an accurate and profound overbalance, El Sasquatcho charged, moving to slide under her arc of attack and pound her legs with a powerful, otherwise bone-pulverizing leg sweep. If her head hit the concrete floor hard enough, their chances for survival looked less dismal. | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,828 | 125 | 68 | 2,002 | 2,689 | While the fight started off on a good foot for the team (with the exception of Leviathan) Ted wasn't doing to well. While most ran in straight into the fray, Nightlife stayed to the side and was paralyzed with fear as his mind raced faster than the flash. This was way to much for him to handle, he was just a normal guy, sure he could do his scream but even that might not be enough here. He grasped his staff as he got ready to enter the fray.
"Come on, just get in there. Theres no turning back now." Ted said to himself as he psyched himself up and eventually mustered the courage to run at one of the creatures. The Titan ran towards the nearest mutant owl thing with his staff raised above his head but as soon as the creature turned in his direction he began having second thoughts about his decision. Alas, it was too late and he was to close to the beast to turn away so he sucked up his feared brought his staff down to the ground as he used it to vault at the abomination. Nightlife kicked the monster in its gut but did next to nothing and to top that, now he was in close quarters with the a creature he seemingly couldn't hurt very much. Ted made a snap thought before getting back to fighting, he probably wouldn't be able to survive long in close range unless he used his power but doing that would probably kill the thing and Ted didn't want that, he just wanted to incapacitate it. Before he was able to make a decision the beast lurched forwards in an attempt to bite him. Ted rolled to the side and instinctively leapt at the back of the bat bird thing, bringing his staff down across its back. This did little once more but it gave Ted a good idea and a good opportunity. The monster wrangling hero landed on the bat creature's back and quickly brought his staff around the beast's neck and under its chin. With one last grab of his staff Ted began yanking at his staff making the beast below him freak out and try helplessly to get Ted off but the teen held on and began directing the bat towards his brethren in its fried state.
"Like riding a bull into a china shop" Ted thought as he began using the strength of his new 'friend' to fight off the monsters of the night, all the while getting pumped by the Rick Astley being played over the comms. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,829 | 125 | 69 | 668 | 1,466 | Zero cursed under his breath when he received no response. Either the com-links were down or the others were too preoccupied. No matter how he sliced it, the ice-meta was on his own it seemed. He forced himself to his feet, trying as hard as he could to ignore the pain. Finally, he dug out a lighter from one of the cabinet drawers and clicked it on to ensure it still worked. Thankfully, a small flame flickered to life from it and that was all Zero needed to see. He staggered his way over to a trash bin and dug out yesterday's newspaper, rolling it up into a cylindrical shape. He ignited the lighter, but before he could hold the paper over the flame he heard the screeching of a man-owl from somewhere behind him. Before he could react any further the mutant bird creature collided with him.
With the bird so close, Zero took the opportunity to get in a devastating blow. An icy, dagger-like blade extended from one of his wrists and he managed to bury it deep in what he hoped was the man-owl's ribcage. Now screeching in pain, the owl and Zero both tumbled to the floor and while the bird mutant writhed in pain Zero desperately searched for the lighter and newspaper, having lost his grip on them during the struggle. He couldn't find them, but he noticed the owl trying to stagger back to its feet, "Oh no, not on your LIFE, you BASTARD!" Zero did the only thing he could think off. As quick as he could manage, he forced his hands around the creature's throat and let his powers take over. A little known fact about most creatures was that their bodies were almost 90% water. That seemed to include the man-owls, as Zero managed to slowly but surely solidify the creature's innards until it became frozen from the inside-out, not exactly a pleasant thing to look at.
The ice-meta breathed heavily, the combination of using his powers like that and his wound surely taking more of a toll on his fatigue than he likely otherwise would be feeling in other situations. He continued looking for the lighter and paper, but they were apparently lost in the struggle, "Damn it... ugh!" Zero grunted, the sharp pain in his side forcing him down to one knee. He failed, or so he thought, anyway. But, like some kind of miracle from on high, another owl crashed into the kitchen and seemed to be lodged into the microwave. That was all it took, as a small fire started up then and there.
Whether he meant to do that or if it was a complete and utter accident, Zero didn't care. El Sasquatcho came through in the pinch, and the whole gym soon found itself in a rush of showering waters, "Let's see how tough you bastards are now..." the ice-meta grunted as he struggled his way back toward the fray. Weakened and beginning to lose blood, Zero stumbled into the main area and thrust his arms out, still trying to ignore the pain, "One instant cold snap... coming right up..." he said with a painful rasp in his voice. His powers started working its magic. All the water now covering the rooms began to drop in temperature, including the bits of it currently soaking the man-owls, "Hope you fuckers like hypothermia!" | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,830 | 125 | 70 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Things had certainly gotten strange in the las few weeks. First he had to explain things to his mom, who took it surprisingly well. Next was getting his stuff together into just a bag and making his way to gotham. He was getting these odd headaches from information overload any time he touched something, it was like getting the blueprints flashed onto his brain. By the end of the train ride, he had a full and total understanding of a wayne tech RA-1L passenger car with 38 seats, 16 florescent lights and 8537 bolts.
The train allowed passengers off just as all hell broke loose. The sky turned gray with crimson stars as owlmen fell from the sky. Hero, ran to the bathroom for safety and threw the bolt. Scrambling in his bag, he grabbed his hammer and smacked the hollow steel door with its head, in a moment the steel thinned by half its thickness but filled with a zig-zag of material like cardboard. A second strike of his hammer turned it into Steel foam. Thick and absorbing but just as light. It would hold up excellent against any blunt trauma such as other people trying to get in by bending and giving, but it wont hold up to claws. This would give him the time he needed to change into the chainmail and put on his apron with gloves. There was a crimson shimmer as the magic took effect and he put his jacket back over with his boots. He covered his head with the chainmail Balaclava and was about to exit when he the claws started coming through the foam.
New plan, he waited behind the tile wall as the door was getting peeled open like an orange and as a single owl stalked inside for a meal-*BONK!*
A few moments later, Hero emerged under an owl he was holding over himself like a poncho as he waddled down the street, turning about this way and that in a horrible approximation of what he had seen on the discovery channel. He had to pick his way through the chaos to the address he was given only to see it surrounded by others and one giant man flying out of the building. This had to be the place but the flying giant was in an arc and no wings. He followed after the unknown hero hoping to get some andwers. | Secret ID:
Hero Zabat
Alias:
Hephestus
Age:
19
Home Location:
Midway City
Powers:
Technopathy/Technomancy:
As the son of the god of smiths, he has an innate understanding of how things work and how to reproduce them. IF it is made by man on this earth, then he can make it or replicate it. Unfortunately, this skill does not extend to alien tech as that is outside the sphere of influence of his father. However, humans that have reverse engineered alien tech he can understand and replicate.
Divine body:
Son of a god has its advantages, Superhuman strength, speed, agility, durability, endurance, and reflexes equal to double those of his current limits.
Weaknesses:
Being of divine blood means that magic spells are twice as effective against him. Even with the physical boost, he's very unskilled in any of the usual heroic ways. No martial arts, no assassin training, not a former thief. He's a geek who can get hit by a car and only have broken bones instead of die.
Equipment:
A gift from his bloodline, with one head, it helps him forge items much quicker than any modern marvel does. With the other head, he can break down objects to their base components usually in the form of flaking falling away like rust off of an iron hull. He started with just a pound, but with training in knowing evermore of what things are made of, he can shed ten pounds of one element with each blow, destroying some items to powder and weakening others with each strike. (example: he can touch a pocket watch and reduce it to powder or hit a brick wall (Average red brick is 4.5 lbs
Silica (sand) – 50% to 60% by weight
Alumina (clay) – 20% to 30% by weight
Lime – 2 to 5% by weight
Iron oxide – ≤ 7% by weight
Magnesia – less than 1% by weight
If he called for silica, he could remove half the elements of 4 bricks and significantly reduce the strength of such that a hole would easily be made by the same hammer blow)
Aegis apron:
Not really the mythical aegis, but this apron and these gloves are utterly immune to heat and fire including lava.
Cherubs' chain:
Chainmail made of 34G titanium wire links one 64th of an inch wide on a 1-in-6 pattern. It is supple as cloth, but almost completely bulletproof and acts like a faraday cage against electricity.
Tow truck:
While not the most glamorous of vehicles, its got he massive horsepower needed to drag a semi or pull a gate off is hinges, plenty of panels to hide equipment without needing secret compartments, and tow trucks are so common that it is nearly invisible.
Appearance:
Personality:
Fun-loving with a strong work ethic. He is constantly curious as to how things work and as such is always touching things to use his god given talent to gain a more intimate understanding. His social skills could use some work, as he connects with things more easily than people. He's got some daddy issues and would do anything to protect his mom, not that she needs it.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio:
His mom was a grease monkey who inherited the garage from her dad and worked her way from holistic repairs to custom jobs. She got a custom job from this gorgeous 20 something veteran with 'hair like copper wire and a prosthetic leg' who wanted her to use her mechanical skill to make a fully functional replacement leg. Cybernetics were not her thing, but she took it as a challenge to make a 'functional sculpture' using only her automotive skills.
When he came for the commission, he was so awe struck a her skill that he set his sights on her. Lavishing her with gifts of a new workshops worth of equipment that she eventually gave into his advances. Nine months later, Hero was born and her Patron was gone. She wasn't mad, it was not like he was the first absent baby-daddy on her block.
Fast forward about two decades and the awkward motor-head teen who's into the ancient greeks and renaissance fairs gets a package in the mail around his birthday. Inside is a hammer, apron, and gloves. "Sorry I haven't been there for you, hope you can change the world. -Dad." When he picked up he hammer and put on the gear, A lot of things suddenly made sense. Most notably when the UPS guy who dropped off the package is suddenly bigbird.
As the messenger, he took an hour to the side to explain what he was and what his limits are. He is still mortal, and he's not the only demigod to slip through the cracks. Keep a low profile and he wont be a huge target like wonder woman, and no, forget those Percy Jackson books. He gave the boy a one-time burn phone to call for a teacher. He was floored who picked up the other end of the phone.
Notes:
This character is meant to become something similar to STEEL from superman, but with a semi-magical bend. He's not the front line fighter, but he's the one who makes he gadgets or upgrades the designs.
Sample Post:
Brrrt, brrrt, brr-"Yes commissioner?" "umm this isn't the commisioner-"Who are you? How did you get this number!" He jumped at the sudden authority in the voice, this dude was scary!
"My name is Hero, I was given this number by, ummm, wonder womans cousin?" The screwed up face was audible as even he had a hard time believing what he was saying. "I don't know who you are, but if you are going to try prank calling the justice leauge, you might as well know Tymascerians have no males, use wikipedia!"
He tried to hang up, but the line would not disconnect. diagnostic would reveal that there was an unusual energy signal in the radio transmission that not only force him to stay on the line, but pinpointed his location in half the time his computers usually took. He wanted to be found.
"I'm not Thermal-scary-anne, he's not that kind of cousin...I called you, I need your help, please."
For a long time, he had thought the line had been cut before the voice spoke up softer but just as threatening.
"We'll see. Get your stuff and get on the 9:15 to Gotham, ticket is waiting for you... Hero." |
4,831 | 125 | 71 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Leviathan had landed in the Gotham harbor several miles away from the action. One minute he was chucking free weights at the Owl-Men creatures, the next he was getting punched by his former teammate turned Talon of the Court of Owls. Leviathan knew that Argo wasn't in her right mind, but that didn't matter. She was probably the one teammate he didn't have to hold back on when in battle. The giant man clad in blue and black swam hard and fast towards the part of Gotham the creature were attacking in midtown. That's when something... or someone... picked him up out of the water in flight. Looking over his shoulder he saw probably the last persOn he'd expected...
"WONDER WOMAN?!?" he yelled.
"Batman is with Superman dealing with a more pressing situation. A global threat. Wildcat informed the League my Amazonian sister was taken by this 'Court of Owls.' It's time I took her back..." Wonder Woman replied.
Back at HQ, Grant's Gym...
An older man ran at his top speed but his facial expressions would have you believe he was way past tired. Ted Grant, the veteran superhero known as Wildcat, was out of costume and had a bag of groceries in hand before panicked citizens knocked them out of his hands in fear of the Owl Men creatures. The hero was generally shocked when he looked ahead and saw a portion of his gym had been destroyed, and the teen superheroes in the Titans were well into a battle with the creatures. Ted ran inside the now wet building to find his suit and could hear the Luchador's music still blaring in the background of the chaos despite the sprinklers being activated. As he suited up, the veteran knew one of their only options was sonics.
"SQUATCH! Turn up that radio as loud as you can and put it over the intercom!" he screamed now in his Wildcat suit, "Nightlife, blow out their ****ing eardrums with your scream! EVERYONE ELSE COVER YOUR EARS!!" he continued.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,832 | 125 | 72 | 2,002 | 2,689 | Ted was enjoying fighting off the owlmen using one of their own against them. To Ted it felt like fighting a giant monster with another giant monster even though these creatures were only a few feet taller than him. With one last hit using his impromptu weapon he leapt off and landed gracefully on the ground behind the creature, staff at the ready. Before anymore creatures could attack him though the ageing hero Wildcat addressed him, telling him to use his powers.
Ted stopped for a moment contemplating wether to follow the elderly hero's orders or to just continue on. He didn't want to really hurt these things and his control over his power was still unrefined at best. While stuck in thought though one of the creatures leapt at Ted with its mouth agape, ready to go in for the kill. Leaving the young hero not much of a choice, Ted screamed letting loose a sound that could bring a deaf man to tears. Ted closed his eyes as he half expected to be eaten still by the bat thing that was attacking him, not realizing that his scream had evicirated the abomination's face, leaveing a fractured skull in its place. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,833 | 125 | 73 | 668 | 1,466 | Unfortunately, Zero wouldn't get the chance to actually cover his ears, or hear Wildcat's orders for that matter. When his attack seemed to do nothing at all, he finally dropped. All that exertion on top of the blood he lost was not a good combination. Frankly, by the time Wildcat showed up he was ready to drop at any moment. It was adrenaline and a miracle that kept him going up til that point. But all that seemed to dissolve away when he saw the gambit he'd risked his life for be of absolutely no help. It was amazing how quickly one's determination could fade away in the face of such demoralizing failure.
"Can't keep... up... useless......." the last couple of words he rasped out wasn't even a complete sentence. And now, there he was, slumped over over on the water covered floor and without any consciousness. And with his going down, all his icy handy work broke and dissolved away as well. Not that that actually mattered, since the damn birds weren't so much as slowed down even by being soaking wet in sub-arctic temperature. How was that even possible? Only penguins and polar bears were supposed to be able to survive that kind of environment, but these dumb owls just shrugged it off like nothing? Apparently owls were tougher creatures than Zero gave them credit for, and now he was paying for that mistake. Oh well, better luck next time, if he even survived this time that is. | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,834 | 125 | 74 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Wildcat hadn't been back to HQ long. Upon throwing his costume on, all he'd managed to do was get his feet wet and yell at the kids to turn up the radio and for their resident screamer to use his sonic vocals to bust some ear drums. What he saw after was completely unexpected. Nightlife was the latest addition to the team at this point, his powers and limits were still undefined. The young man had screamed at a creature and his voice tore and ripped at the skin and fractured the skull. It was gruesome. And it was effective. At that point the veteran superhero surveyed the situation clearer from the lower level in the HQ. The battle was mostly contained within the premises of Grant's Gym, but a dozen or so creatures were also tearing up the neighborhood and generally keeping everybody else at bay. That's when Grant saw the ice manipulator... bleeding and on the ground after attempting to freeze these Man Owl creatures with the assistance of the remaining sprinklers. This might have worked if the boy hadn't already been somewhat tapped. The strength and agility of the creatures were taken lightly after the creature they'd fought days earlier didn't put up too much of a fight.
"Archer, talk to me son... stay awake, we've got to put pressure on these wounds and keep you from losing much more blood..." Wildcat said running to the boy and taking one of the kids shirts laying around and tying it tightly around the boys wounds.
Wildcat moved some larger debris, desks, tables, etc. around Zero to provide a little more cover. The hero ran towards the lockers on the far side of the gym and noticed Rat Boy's pets were providing quite the distraction against the Amazon Talon. Another glance in the other direction saw what looked like a complete cocoon surrounding the girl dubbed 'Parasite.' Before the veteran could even take it all in he saw the hairy and masked hero do some wrestling moves and toss a creature at the Amazon Talon.
Ves was hovering, mostly covered in rats, and now an owl creature was thrown at her. El Sasquatcho slid in for another attack but at this point the new Talon was pissed. The creature thrown hit her like a brick wall then fell to the ground, the Luchador missing it just at the right time. With a spin at her top speed the rats were thrown off of her, several being splattered on walls and debris. That's when Wildcat made it to the lockers.e pulled out what looked to be grenades and screamed out once more...
"EVERYBODY COVER YOUR DAMN EARS THIS TIME!" and then pulled the pins on several sonic grenades that blew the creatures' eardrums and immobilized the ones in the building, however the Talon managed to cover her ears...
"Nightlife, 'Squatcho, Rat Boy... its just us and Argo now. Hit her from all sides. Try talking to her, maybe jar her memories. And where the hell is Leviathan?" the elder hero asked at the end.
Across town...
"You're a lot heavier than you look, are you not a composite being?" Wonder Woman asked carrying the ten feet tall two ton giant in mid air towards the HQ.
"Yeah, would separating help you get us there faster?" Levi asked.
"It wouldn't hurt, I just left a battle outside of the moon's orbit with white martians to get here once Batman mentioned Vesta was in trouble." the Amazon member of the Justice League responded.
The light glow appeared around the giant like always, but when the giant's size was no longer an issue, he was shocked to find there was still only one being.
"What the..?!?" he yelled as Wonder Woman still held him tightly.
"I take it this has never happened before?" she asked.
"I'll worry about it later... hey? Could you just throw me back towards the base? I'll go giant man before I hit my mark..." the smaller Leviathan asked.
Moments later, the hero on foot battling the remaining creatures in the neighborhood saw the giant man flying on the opposite direction back towards Grant's Gym.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,835 | 125 | 75 | 2,170 | 1,634 | El Sasquatcho overshot his slide, taking him underneath the hovering Amazon and out of direct range of the soon-to-be ensuing melee, skidding heavily into a pile of rubble that was once a ceiling. While still prone, the burly Luchador covered his ears and went into a fetal position until the sonic grenades cleared the rest of the riffraff out.
He uncovered his eyes and looked over at Zero, on the ground and in process of bleeding out. Parasite was also down, very possibly never to recover. A series of red, furry splotches adorned the walls at odd intervals, casualties of centrifugal force from Rat Boy's cadre of rodent reinforcements. More dead and dying. He was done with it. While he whispered his supplications to Dama Muerte, he knew that she did not do her best work in extremes. El Sasquatcho honored the brave and noble fallen; he did not rush to create more of them.
Among the rubble, the indomitable Luchador's hand settled upon a thick section of re-bar, one end heavy with hardened concrete. Using it for support, he pushed himself to a standing position and called to his brain-scrambled friend.
"It's time to stop, chica. You're hurting people who care about you."
He hefted his improvised weapon over his shoulder in a powerful, two-handed grip. It was a giant, irregular mace; an anvil on a metal pole. Not for finesse, certainly, and not the kind of thing a person with lesser strength could use effectively. Regardless, El Sasquatcho felt confident that he could open up the full range of his power on her without worrying about her mortality. At the same time, if the Amazon was going to specifically target one of them to start, he'd rather it be himself. He stood the best chance of surviving her martial attentions, but not for long.
He just had to buy time for the others to come up with something useful.
"If we get through this, hermanita, the wings are on El Sasquatcho, ok?"
His voice scrambler deepened and amplified a roar as he closed the distance with an aggressive charge, remixed dance music from the 1980's still pulsing in the background.
"¡Revolución!" | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,836 | 125 | 76 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Hero had his work cut out for him. First he had followed a flying giant, only to see two flying back the way he just came from only now glowing. Assuming the glowing man is related to the flying giant, he resumed his way back to the gym in the disguise just in time to hear the sonic grenades and closed in on the collapsing building blaring music. He made his way inside and saw the massive hole in the floor where someone was in all black and under attack by the others. He felt a lurch in his gut, a wrongness with the black and brass babe. Something pulled at him like a connection he could not explain as he threw the owl down from above to distract her followed by himself in a powerful hammerfall.
He was unsure of himself in this moment. If he did it, he could kill her. She was related to the owls, if she controlled them they could go more chaotic than already, but could it be any worse? With a drop in his heard he called out an enchantment for his hammer. "CALCIUM!" If the blow hit, he would knock ten pounds of calcium out of the talons skeleton, creating soft spots to exploit, if it hit. | Secret ID:
Hero Zabat
Alias:
Hephestus
Age:
19
Home Location:
Midway City
Powers:
Technopathy/Technomancy:
As the son of the god of smiths, he has an innate understanding of how things work and how to reproduce them. IF it is made by man on this earth, then he can make it or replicate it. Unfortunately, this skill does not extend to alien tech as that is outside the sphere of influence of his father. However, humans that have reverse engineered alien tech he can understand and replicate.
Divine body:
Son of a god has its advantages, Superhuman strength, speed, agility, durability, endurance, and reflexes equal to double those of his current limits.
Weaknesses:
Being of divine blood means that magic spells are twice as effective against him. Even with the physical boost, he's very unskilled in any of the usual heroic ways. No martial arts, no assassin training, not a former thief. He's a geek who can get hit by a car and only have broken bones instead of die.
Equipment:
A gift from his bloodline, with one head, it helps him forge items much quicker than any modern marvel does. With the other head, he can break down objects to their base components usually in the form of flaking falling away like rust off of an iron hull. He started with just a pound, but with training in knowing evermore of what things are made of, he can shed ten pounds of one element with each blow, destroying some items to powder and weakening others with each strike. (example: he can touch a pocket watch and reduce it to powder or hit a brick wall (Average red brick is 4.5 lbs
Silica (sand) – 50% to 60% by weight
Alumina (clay) – 20% to 30% by weight
Lime – 2 to 5% by weight
Iron oxide – ≤ 7% by weight
Magnesia – less than 1% by weight
If he called for silica, he could remove half the elements of 4 bricks and significantly reduce the strength of such that a hole would easily be made by the same hammer blow)
Aegis apron:
Not really the mythical aegis, but this apron and these gloves are utterly immune to heat and fire including lava.
Cherubs' chain:
Chainmail made of 34G titanium wire links one 64th of an inch wide on a 1-in-6 pattern. It is supple as cloth, but almost completely bulletproof and acts like a faraday cage against electricity.
Tow truck:
While not the most glamorous of vehicles, its got he massive horsepower needed to drag a semi or pull a gate off is hinges, plenty of panels to hide equipment without needing secret compartments, and tow trucks are so common that it is nearly invisible.
Appearance:
Personality:
Fun-loving with a strong work ethic. He is constantly curious as to how things work and as such is always touching things to use his god given talent to gain a more intimate understanding. His social skills could use some work, as he connects with things more easily than people. He's got some daddy issues and would do anything to protect his mom, not that she needs it.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio:
His mom was a grease monkey who inherited the garage from her dad and worked her way from holistic repairs to custom jobs. She got a custom job from this gorgeous 20 something veteran with 'hair like copper wire and a prosthetic leg' who wanted her to use her mechanical skill to make a fully functional replacement leg. Cybernetics were not her thing, but she took it as a challenge to make a 'functional sculpture' using only her automotive skills.
When he came for the commission, he was so awe struck a her skill that he set his sights on her. Lavishing her with gifts of a new workshops worth of equipment that she eventually gave into his advances. Nine months later, Hero was born and her Patron was gone. She wasn't mad, it was not like he was the first absent baby-daddy on her block.
Fast forward about two decades and the awkward motor-head teen who's into the ancient greeks and renaissance fairs gets a package in the mail around his birthday. Inside is a hammer, apron, and gloves. "Sorry I haven't been there for you, hope you can change the world. -Dad." When he picked up he hammer and put on the gear, A lot of things suddenly made sense. Most notably when the UPS guy who dropped off the package is suddenly bigbird.
As the messenger, he took an hour to the side to explain what he was and what his limits are. He is still mortal, and he's not the only demigod to slip through the cracks. Keep a low profile and he wont be a huge target like wonder woman, and no, forget those Percy Jackson books. He gave the boy a one-time burn phone to call for a teacher. He was floored who picked up the other end of the phone.
Notes:
This character is meant to become something similar to STEEL from superman, but with a semi-magical bend. He's not the front line fighter, but he's the one who makes he gadgets or upgrades the designs.
Sample Post:
Brrrt, brrrt, brr-"Yes commissioner?" "umm this isn't the commisioner-"Who are you? How did you get this number!" He jumped at the sudden authority in the voice, this dude was scary!
"My name is Hero, I was given this number by, ummm, wonder womans cousin?" The screwed up face was audible as even he had a hard time believing what he was saying. "I don't know who you are, but if you are going to try prank calling the justice leauge, you might as well know Tymascerians have no males, use wikipedia!"
He tried to hang up, but the line would not disconnect. diagnostic would reveal that there was an unusual energy signal in the radio transmission that not only force him to stay on the line, but pinpointed his location in half the time his computers usually took. He wanted to be found.
"I'm not Thermal-scary-anne, he's not that kind of cousin...I called you, I need your help, please."
For a long time, he had thought the line had been cut before the voice spoke up softer but just as threatening.
"We'll see. Get your stuff and get on the 9:15 to Gotham, ticket is waiting for you... Hero." |
4,837 | 125 | 77 | 2,170 | 1,634 | The battle was brutal, taxing both physically and mentally, even for an enhanced scrapper like El Sasquatcho. The burly Luchador and his stalwart comrades-in-arms had their work cut out for them. A mind-warped former Titan with enough raw physical power remove the ceiling from a fortified safehouse was in their midst, and with all the powers of the assembled Titans at their disposal, the team's hairy protagonist went after her with an improvised bludgeon of re-bar and concrete.
The DJ remixed music of the 1980's kept thumping through the speakers, miraculous by noting that, while everything around them was trashed (lamentably even the microwave, by El Sasquatcho's actions), the sound system was in perfect working order. Despite the pounding bass of RELAX sounding among them, El Sasquatcho heard a booming voice overhead, belonging to a descending, red haired blur with a curious looking eighty pound bitchhammer, bellowing, "CALCIUM!"
El Sasquatcho paused mid-swing and tilted his head upward, an incredulous look somehow noticeable through his armored mask as he listened to what he misunderstood to be the worst battlecry ever. "Calcium? For serious?"
He looked back to his opponent, shrugged, and continued his assault. | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,838 | 125 | 78 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Chester couldn't believe his bad luck and hated that his assault on their former teammate seemed to be doing nothing. It seemed like everything was going horribly wrong and it looked like he might be joining Leviathan outside of the battle. Ves then began to shake violently and threw off dozens upon dozens of rats at such an incredibly fast rate and Chester had to hold onto the Amazon for dear life. His eyes widened in horror when he caught sight of Archie flying through the air and smashing against a wall. Chester watched in terror as his pet rat's blood splattered onto the wall.
"NO!!!! ARCHIE!!!" He screamed as his grip on his enemy began to loosen and then he lost his hold on Ves and was thrown off of her at great speed. Chester flew through the air and landed hard on the floor on top of a pile of dead rats covered in blood. They cushened his fall so he wasn't killed, but he felt his right leg and arm break upon impact. The pain was instant and awful. He tried to move, but couldn't thanks to his leg being in horrible pain and he was only able to pull himself up into a sitting position.
He looked around for Amy and his eyes saw her feebly crawling towards Archie's broken body. Chester tears start to form in his eyes as he watched his pets die together and couldn't believe that this was happening. Amy embraced Archie one last time before dying with her companion. Chester felt sick and then his strength just seemed to vanish and he fell back into a lying position, breathing heavily. He could not believe what had happened, two of his closest friends had died and he was now unable to help his team anymore.
Chester fumbled for the button that would return him to normal size and he was eventually able to find it and grow back to normal. He was helpless just like the time Robin died and now two other of his friends were dead.
"Oh God, everything is going so horribly wrong!" he said as he just lay on floor, his broken body in horrible pain. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,839 | 125 | 79 | 1,537 | 4,313 | CRAP! Wildcat thought out loud as he came up on Rat Boy who was now back to normal size and nursing a broken arm and leg.
The hairy masked man was doing his best against the brainwashed Titan in Talon armor using a piece of debris like a baseball bat. Nightlife dodged the debris as the base continued to fall apart as the 80's hits still blared over the stereo. Wildcat carried Chester to the same spot where he'd hidden Zero, guarded by larger pieces of debris. Upon turning around he saw the Titans' newest member Hephestus coming in with a bang, striking at the Talon with his mystical hammer while shouting 'CALCIUM!'
The look on the red haired youth's face explained it all. The attack was not what the hero had expected.
"Is that you, Hero?" the Talon asked removing what remained of her headgear as she deflected the attack with her arm bracers, "The Court used my enchanted armor while fashioning my new gear... your hammer is as useless as..." Ves started to taunt before Leviathan grew from a single individual now to his usual composite giant form crashing through the top of the building.
The hero used his giant fists to strike at the Amazon again and again and the masked El Sasquatcho continued his assault as well as the new guy with his hammer. The female was in a roughly fifteen feet wide crater in the bottom level of the HQ, Man Owl creatures laid all across the floor unconscious. Wildcat looked on along with Nightlife as the heroes tried to use their combine strength to beat her into submission but she started to regain her composure. That's when another Amazon, Wonder Woman, floated down into the base. The Talon backhanded the giant man through another wall and made it to her feet, and the Justice Leaguer pulled out her equalizer... her magic lasso.
"YOU CAN'T BREAK FREE OF THE LASSO, VES. NOW... TELL ME.. WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!?" Wonder Woman asked with a yell.
The dead expression on the girl's face lead Wonder Woman to believe she truly did not know. After just a few moments the effects of the brainwashing wore off and the young female hero looked all around at the destruction she'd helped cause. Still bound by the lasso she fell to her knees crying. Leviathan walked back into the battle zone from the wrecked personal quarters and went back to standard size but still stuck as a single being somehow. 'Squatcho was the first to kneel down and put his arm around the girl. Nightlife, Wildcat, and Levi followed.
"None of this is your fault, kid..." Wildcat spoke looking up at the Justice Leaguer who had an aggravated look on her face as she pulled her lasso back.
"We've got wounded we need to take care of, Diana." Wildcat muttered rising back to his feet.
"Do what you can, Grant. I'll contact Batman and see where we go from here." Wonder Woman responded sternly, almost as if she put all the blame on the elder hero himself.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,840 | 125 | 80 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Good to have you back, mi amiga. half-whispered, half sobbed El Sasquatcho, still holding Vesta's cringing form. "I'm so sorry we could not locate you in time. None of this is on you."
The noble Luchador lifted the mentally restored Titan and carried her over to her blood relative, addressing the founding Justice Leaguer directly. "Hola, Senorita... um, Woman. Por favor, could you see to your prima? We need to care for our wounded. He looked into Ves's eyes, smiled, and remarked in an almost cheery voice, "We will talk later, dulcita. You rest now."
The second El Sasqatcho turned his back on the two Amazons, he snapped away from smiles and reassuring talk. His eyes and posture became that of a Field Marshal. He looked to the newcomer who leapt down from the gaping hole in the ceiling with a hammer. "You! El Sasquatcho thanks you for your assistance. Make with the getting over here and grabbing Señor Ratboy. We need to get these two to a hospital, ahora."
The burly wrestler ran to Wildcat's hiding spot for the two heroes, kicking debris out of the way. With as much care as his haste would allow, he lifted the slumped and broken form of Zero from the ground, cradled his neck and back of his head, and made for the door.
On his way out, he looked to Wonder Woman, "If you have an opening with the Justice Leaguing, Miss Woman, por favor let El Sasquatcho know. It has to be safer than this.
Kicking open the doors, El Sasquatcho ran (as fast as he dared with the injured Zero) to his El Camino. As soon as his vehicle was in view, he skidded to a halt. His head cocked to the side, mouth agape, not quite believing what he was seeing.
The car was intact. Fully. Nary a scratch, as luck would have it. Yet still, El Sasquatcho's surprise made him come close to dropping his fragile teammate.
No, nonono... Every efrigging time! NO! Anytime those bastardo seagulls fly near my Vato Truck, they have to make with the bombing, but this El Sasquatcho refuses to tolerate! HEY, HAMMERGUY! When you come with the Rat Boy, please bring the paper towels and sandblaster with, okay?"
Focusing his eyes on the roof of his precious El Camino, there reposed the largest, most obscene example of giant radioactive owlbeast splattage known to civilized man. If but for a second, the horrified masked Luchador considered waiting for a bus.
***
...the El Camino roared from the Grant's Gym parking lot, fishtailing only slightly as he followed a memorized course to the nearest Emergency Room. | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,841 | 125 | 81 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Hero was still reeling from it all, who was she, how did she know who he was? The only Greek he had yet met was Hermes. That was for later as a whole lotta fur demanded his help. Holstering the hammer, he took up The fallen in his strong arms with the two rats he was holding and carried him to the waiting vehicle.
"Sí señor chewbacca, que es un montón de caca."
You don't grow up a mechanic and not learn a little of every language in order to keep in business. Setting Ratboy down in the back of the el camino, he took up his tool and tapped the toot fruit.
"it's just chemicals, Phosphate! its just chemicals Potasium! its just chemicals Nitrogen!....EEWWW!
With each charge of his hammer, the chemicals were separated from the messy mass until nothing more than thirty pounds of seperated chemical powders sat on the cars surface.
"That, didn't, happen." | Secret ID:
Hero Zabat
Alias:
Hephestus
Age:
19
Home Location:
Midway City
Powers:
Technopathy/Technomancy:
As the son of the god of smiths, he has an innate understanding of how things work and how to reproduce them. IF it is made by man on this earth, then he can make it or replicate it. Unfortunately, this skill does not extend to alien tech as that is outside the sphere of influence of his father. However, humans that have reverse engineered alien tech he can understand and replicate.
Divine body:
Son of a god has its advantages, Superhuman strength, speed, agility, durability, endurance, and reflexes equal to double those of his current limits.
Weaknesses:
Being of divine blood means that magic spells are twice as effective against him. Even with the physical boost, he's very unskilled in any of the usual heroic ways. No martial arts, no assassin training, not a former thief. He's a geek who can get hit by a car and only have broken bones instead of die.
Equipment:
A gift from his bloodline, with one head, it helps him forge items much quicker than any modern marvel does. With the other head, he can break down objects to their base components usually in the form of flaking falling away like rust off of an iron hull. He started with just a pound, but with training in knowing evermore of what things are made of, he can shed ten pounds of one element with each blow, destroying some items to powder and weakening others with each strike. (example: he can touch a pocket watch and reduce it to powder or hit a brick wall (Average red brick is 4.5 lbs
Silica (sand) – 50% to 60% by weight
Alumina (clay) – 20% to 30% by weight
Lime – 2 to 5% by weight
Iron oxide – ≤ 7% by weight
Magnesia – less than 1% by weight
If he called for silica, he could remove half the elements of 4 bricks and significantly reduce the strength of such that a hole would easily be made by the same hammer blow)
Aegis apron:
Not really the mythical aegis, but this apron and these gloves are utterly immune to heat and fire including lava.
Cherubs' chain:
Chainmail made of 34G titanium wire links one 64th of an inch wide on a 1-in-6 pattern. It is supple as cloth, but almost completely bulletproof and acts like a faraday cage against electricity.
Tow truck:
While not the most glamorous of vehicles, its got he massive horsepower needed to drag a semi or pull a gate off is hinges, plenty of panels to hide equipment without needing secret compartments, and tow trucks are so common that it is nearly invisible.
Appearance:
Personality:
Fun-loving with a strong work ethic. He is constantly curious as to how things work and as such is always touching things to use his god given talent to gain a more intimate understanding. His social skills could use some work, as he connects with things more easily than people. He's got some daddy issues and would do anything to protect his mom, not that she needs it.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio:
His mom was a grease monkey who inherited the garage from her dad and worked her way from holistic repairs to custom jobs. She got a custom job from this gorgeous 20 something veteran with 'hair like copper wire and a prosthetic leg' who wanted her to use her mechanical skill to make a fully functional replacement leg. Cybernetics were not her thing, but she took it as a challenge to make a 'functional sculpture' using only her automotive skills.
When he came for the commission, he was so awe struck a her skill that he set his sights on her. Lavishing her with gifts of a new workshops worth of equipment that she eventually gave into his advances. Nine months later, Hero was born and her Patron was gone. She wasn't mad, it was not like he was the first absent baby-daddy on her block.
Fast forward about two decades and the awkward motor-head teen who's into the ancient greeks and renaissance fairs gets a package in the mail around his birthday. Inside is a hammer, apron, and gloves. "Sorry I haven't been there for you, hope you can change the world. -Dad." When he picked up he hammer and put on the gear, A lot of things suddenly made sense. Most notably when the UPS guy who dropped off the package is suddenly bigbird.
As the messenger, he took an hour to the side to explain what he was and what his limits are. He is still mortal, and he's not the only demigod to slip through the cracks. Keep a low profile and he wont be a huge target like wonder woman, and no, forget those Percy Jackson books. He gave the boy a one-time burn phone to call for a teacher. He was floored who picked up the other end of the phone.
Notes:
This character is meant to become something similar to STEEL from superman, but with a semi-magical bend. He's not the front line fighter, but he's the one who makes he gadgets or upgrades the designs.
Sample Post:
Brrrt, brrrt, brr-"Yes commissioner?" "umm this isn't the commisioner-"Who are you? How did you get this number!" He jumped at the sudden authority in the voice, this dude was scary!
"My name is Hero, I was given this number by, ummm, wonder womans cousin?" The screwed up face was audible as even he had a hard time believing what he was saying. "I don't know who you are, but if you are going to try prank calling the justice leauge, you might as well know Tymascerians have no males, use wikipedia!"
He tried to hang up, but the line would not disconnect. diagnostic would reveal that there was an unusual energy signal in the radio transmission that not only force him to stay on the line, but pinpointed his location in half the time his computers usually took. He wanted to be found.
"I'm not Thermal-scary-anne, he's not that kind of cousin...I called you, I need your help, please."
For a long time, he had thought the line had been cut before the voice spoke up softer but just as threatening.
"We'll see. Get your stuff and get on the 9:15 to Gotham, ticket is waiting for you... Hero." |
4,842 | 125 | 82 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Days had gone by since Zero and Ratboy were taken to a hospital. Thankfully the closest ER had been one of the ones keen on protecting identities and such secret of Batman and his allies. With the HQ and Gym both in a wreck, Ted Grant had the remains of the team held up in a hotel just outside of city limits. A now completely composite teen, Leviathan, could no longer separate into Daniel and Robert. Nightlife did a lot of sleeping. Hephestus and El Sasquatcho seemed to sort of hit it off. Parasite was taken to the nearest STAR Labs in Metropolis, now completely encompassed in a cocoon type of bug construct.
There was a door between the two rooms the team left open. Snack food wrappers and fast food bags were scattered everywhere, and it looked like Ted Grant hadn't shaved in days. One of the two tv's was on, sounded like a basketball game or something from the other room. Grant kinda stayed in the corner on a phone the last hour or so. He approached Levi and the others in this room and was kinda near the open door connecting the two rooms on the inside so the others could hear him.
"Batman said Zero will be out of the hospital soon, Rats isn't looking to get back in the field and will probably be in recovery a few more days. Batman is bound to make this 'Titans' thing work, and recruited a couple more young heroes who should be arriving at any time..." Grant said in his grizzly voice, "Still nothing on Parasite though. The guys at STAR Labs don't want to crack the cocoon in case it's healing her or something but she's under observation. I know you kids are just starting your careers... but I think I'm gettin' a little too old for this sh.."
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Who was going to show up at the Titans' temporary door step? Was Zero already back? Maybe it was one of the new recruits? Levi started picking up trash and trying to make the place look more presentable.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,843 | 125 | 83 | 512 | 55 | Zhang's eyes grew weary as she watched bag after bag circle around the conveyor belt like one of those hypnotic circles that seemed to go on forever. She looked at the small, black watch that rested on her dainty wrist. It was edging close and closer to 2am, China time that is. She looked up at a large clock hanging on the wall opposite and adjusted her watch accordingly, she was going to have a hell of a lot of jetlag, that was for sure.
Finally her suitcase slowly made its way around to her. She picked it off the conveyor belt and got on her way, explaining to the security guards that the reason she was carrying knives in her bag was because 'Batman said it was fine' was hard enough back in China, where she wasn't jet lagged, it was going to be a hell of a lot harder with the feeling of tiredness that was becoming more and more troublesome as the day went on.
It had been a few days since she'd arrived in America and, Zhang was anxious to meet her new team. She'd been informed about their recent fight, and knew about their losses. She was more anxious that she'd say something inappropriate than she was about meeting them in all honesty. She'd dressed appropriately enough for the occasion, she actually put on a baggy pair of jogging bottoms and a zip-up hoodie, rather than her usual attire of board shorts and a t-shirt.
She approached the hotel room, hesitating before she knocked on the door. She breathed in and breathed out rather heavily as a futile attempt to stop the feeling of nervousness overcoming her. Nevertheless, she put on a smile and knocked on the door. No answer. This was problematic. Being herself, Zhang simply turned the handle and took a step in, seeing the rather messy room along with a rather tall boy attempting to clean the room.
"Uh, I'm looking for the Titans?" She asked. | Secret ID: Zhang Brownsort
Alias: Spirit
Age: 17
Home Location: Gotham
Powers:
Zhang's powers are based around her training with the Pink Lotus. She is able to teleport small distances in a puff of smoke, cling to walls like a spider and even appear to be someone entirely different through the medium of disguise, although this is more of a skill than a power. Her main power comes from her training with Katana. While, Katana mainly taught her how to use weapon and whatnot, her philosophical teachings as well as her tai-chi regime among other training methods allowed for Zhang to learn to utilize her chi into devastating attacks, hardened defensive positions and even ranged attacks if need be. She mostly utilizes her chi into her agility though, giving her the ability to dodge speeding bullets and speed along walls as if they were the floor.
Weaknesses:
Zhang's main weakness is the fact that she's human. If she doesn't utilize her chi defensively quick enough then your average bullet could have her pushing up daisies. Along with this, her training with Katana was short-lived, and if she doesn't concentrate hard enough then her chi control can momentarily disappear completely.
Equipment:
Zhang carries what you'd expect from someone trained in the ninja way.
-Smoke Bombs
-Kunai
-Tanto Blade
-2x Tonfa
Appearance:
Picture
Zhang is a rather short girl, standing at just 5 foot 5. Nevertheless, she maintains a thin figure with only a little muscle being visible on her arms. Her hair is long and a dark brown, reaching down past her waist although she keeps it tied up when working as Spirit. Her eyes are a lighter shade of brown than her hair, and are slightly large. She has small, slender features and is more cute than she is beautiful.
Her casual clothing consists of plain t-shirts and board shorts when around the house. However, when she's outside she'll put on a pair of trousers if need be, although she prefers more loose clothing than anything else.
Her costume consists of what you'd expect of a ninja. She wears a black face mask, accompanied by a loose fitting ninja robe tied together by a cloth belt which also hangs a loincloth bearing the symbol of the Pink Lotus.
Personality:
Zhang is rather cocky and fun loving and displays a more tomboyish attitude to femininity than anything else. She likes to play contact sports, and is no stranger to a fight for no-reason here or there.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio:
Zhang was born in China, to a Caucasian father and an Asian mother. Her father, a wealthy archaeologist at a bar one night and they hit it off almost immediately. Her mother's life was a bit more interesting than archaeology if you can believe that, she was raised in what is technically Japan, albeit an island that is extremely difficult to get to. The island is secluded by a mystic fog that sends any ship sailing its way into the wrong direction. Her mother was born and raised on this island to take over the job as it's shogun, occasionally she was let out of the island in order to find a husband, which wasn't hard for someone as beautiful as she was.
Explaining her situation to her newly wed husband was a bit hard though, albeit a lot easier than explaining why her entire family consisted of old men at their wedding. Within about a year of their marriage, Zhang was born, and her mother took over as Shogun of the island. She grew up learning the ways of the ninja, but always had trouble fitting in with the other children and would often fall back on her training for sheer lack of skill.
However, in times of great emotion she could feel something surging through her, giving her the strength to carry on and overcome any obstacle, unbeknownst to her this was her inner chi coming through. She continued to train on the island until she was about 14, when she visited the mainland of Japan with her father. It was here she witnessed Katana for the first time, and it was also where she showed what skill she had to Katana in her efforts of helping her capture a criminal.
After much negotiation, Katana agreed to take Zhang under her wing as an apprentice. During their time together they trained extensively, and grew to have an almost sisterly bond between each other. She began to better control her chi during her time with Katana, and found multiple uses for her chi before joining the Titans.
Notes:
Sample Post:
Zhang sat, perched on a rooftop overlooking the dark warehouse that Katana was slowly creeping her way into. The wind bit at her skin and made her shiver slightly, it was freezing cold, and a sweater wasn't part of her attire. She kept her eye on the white mask of Katana, a mere glint of her sword and it was go time, Zhang hadn't seen action at this scale in weeks, maybe even months.
And there it was, the glint of moonlight against steel, the signal. Zhang leaped from the building before disappearing into a cloud of smoke and reappearing within the now completely dark building. Various guards shouted obscenities and shocked cries before they were quickly silenced by the duo. Zhang's tonfa had seen it's fair share of bloodshed during her time with Katana, to the point where most horror films couldn't even faze her.
The two quickly freed what hostages were left within the warehouse and made a hasty escape back to Katana's residence. Zhang came out of her room, changed into her usual attire of a hoodie and board shorts before she called out to Katana who was sat, gazing blankly at the television like a deer in head lights.
"That was really fun! We've not went on an actual mission in months!" She said gleefully, before flopping down next to her trainer.
"Zhang, I have some melancholy news" She said, in a slightly hushed tone.
"Uhm, what does melancholy mean? And why so glum, chum?" She asked, making light of the situation as per usual.
"I'm going to be straight with you here, there's a superhero group that has formed in America and I think you'd be a better fit training with them than with me. Batman and Wildcat are the bosses of the operation so things will be run a little differently, namely you will be advised against killing. It's your decision here, but I really think you should go." Zhang sat, silent. She pulled her knees up to her chest and began thinking. As much as she liked training with Kitana, she also thought the idea of joining a superhero team run by Batman of all people was really cool. She thought for a few more moments before answering.
"I'll do it. But you need to write me every month ok?" She said, glumly.
"Deal." |
4,844 | 125 | 84 | 1,270 | 2,337 | Hero was hammered. No, wait, hammering. Hero was hammering away like an inexplicable anime as he used his magic mallet with no fire to shape the tools they brought with them. Batman would never willingly let his tech fall into the wrong hands, so Hero had taken up the crates of titan toys with them to the new location where he was at work experimenting.
Minimization is always something useful, smaller means easier to place or more to carry, since he could not affect an objects mass, he could affect its density. For the moment he was practicing with grenades to make them smaller and smaller by removing the gaps in the molecules to make a more 'solid' explosive that could fit more in the hand. After the grenades, he would look to experimenting on that talon costume they confiscated to see if any technology from the court of owls could be put to their use.
Now, before you ask, hes not so stupid as to be using explosives or even flash bangs in the hotel. He's practicing the technique with gas grenades only loaded with liquid mist as he tries to improve on not only his own limited skill with this tool but also improve the team as a whole in his own way. With headphones on, listening to greek music, he's blissfully unaware of the knocking on the door. | Secret ID:
Hero Zabat
Alias:
Hephestus
Age:
19
Home Location:
Midway City
Powers:
Technopathy/Technomancy:
As the son of the god of smiths, he has an innate understanding of how things work and how to reproduce them. IF it is made by man on this earth, then he can make it or replicate it. Unfortunately, this skill does not extend to alien tech as that is outside the sphere of influence of his father. However, humans that have reverse engineered alien tech he can understand and replicate.
Divine body:
Son of a god has its advantages, Superhuman strength, speed, agility, durability, endurance, and reflexes equal to double those of his current limits.
Weaknesses:
Being of divine blood means that magic spells are twice as effective against him. Even with the physical boost, he's very unskilled in any of the usual heroic ways. No martial arts, no assassin training, not a former thief. He's a geek who can get hit by a car and only have broken bones instead of die.
Equipment:
A gift from his bloodline, with one head, it helps him forge items much quicker than any modern marvel does. With the other head, he can break down objects to their base components usually in the form of flaking falling away like rust off of an iron hull. He started with just a pound, but with training in knowing evermore of what things are made of, he can shed ten pounds of one element with each blow, destroying some items to powder and weakening others with each strike. (example: he can touch a pocket watch and reduce it to powder or hit a brick wall (Average red brick is 4.5 lbs
Silica (sand) – 50% to 60% by weight
Alumina (clay) – 20% to 30% by weight
Lime – 2 to 5% by weight
Iron oxide – ≤ 7% by weight
Magnesia – less than 1% by weight
If he called for silica, he could remove half the elements of 4 bricks and significantly reduce the strength of such that a hole would easily be made by the same hammer blow)
Aegis apron:
Not really the mythical aegis, but this apron and these gloves are utterly immune to heat and fire including lava.
Cherubs' chain:
Chainmail made of 34G titanium wire links one 64th of an inch wide on a 1-in-6 pattern. It is supple as cloth, but almost completely bulletproof and acts like a faraday cage against electricity.
Tow truck:
While not the most glamorous of vehicles, its got he massive horsepower needed to drag a semi or pull a gate off is hinges, plenty of panels to hide equipment without needing secret compartments, and tow trucks are so common that it is nearly invisible.
Appearance:
Personality:
Fun-loving with a strong work ethic. He is constantly curious as to how things work and as such is always touching things to use his god given talent to gain a more intimate understanding. His social skills could use some work, as he connects with things more easily than people. He's got some daddy issues and would do anything to protect his mom, not that she needs it.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio:
His mom was a grease monkey who inherited the garage from her dad and worked her way from holistic repairs to custom jobs. She got a custom job from this gorgeous 20 something veteran with 'hair like copper wire and a prosthetic leg' who wanted her to use her mechanical skill to make a fully functional replacement leg. Cybernetics were not her thing, but she took it as a challenge to make a 'functional sculpture' using only her automotive skills.
When he came for the commission, he was so awe struck a her skill that he set his sights on her. Lavishing her with gifts of a new workshops worth of equipment that she eventually gave into his advances. Nine months later, Hero was born and her Patron was gone. She wasn't mad, it was not like he was the first absent baby-daddy on her block.
Fast forward about two decades and the awkward motor-head teen who's into the ancient greeks and renaissance fairs gets a package in the mail around his birthday. Inside is a hammer, apron, and gloves. "Sorry I haven't been there for you, hope you can change the world. -Dad." When he picked up he hammer and put on the gear, A lot of things suddenly made sense. Most notably when the UPS guy who dropped off the package is suddenly bigbird.
As the messenger, he took an hour to the side to explain what he was and what his limits are. He is still mortal, and he's not the only demigod to slip through the cracks. Keep a low profile and he wont be a huge target like wonder woman, and no, forget those Percy Jackson books. He gave the boy a one-time burn phone to call for a teacher. He was floored who picked up the other end of the phone.
Notes:
This character is meant to become something similar to STEEL from superman, but with a semi-magical bend. He's not the front line fighter, but he's the one who makes he gadgets or upgrades the designs.
Sample Post:
Brrrt, brrrt, brr-"Yes commissioner?" "umm this isn't the commisioner-"Who are you? How did you get this number!" He jumped at the sudden authority in the voice, this dude was scary!
"My name is Hero, I was given this number by, ummm, wonder womans cousin?" The screwed up face was audible as even he had a hard time believing what he was saying. "I don't know who you are, but if you are going to try prank calling the justice leauge, you might as well know Tymascerians have no males, use wikipedia!"
He tried to hang up, but the line would not disconnect. diagnostic would reveal that there was an unusual energy signal in the radio transmission that not only force him to stay on the line, but pinpointed his location in half the time his computers usually took. He wanted to be found.
"I'm not Thermal-scary-anne, he's not that kind of cousin...I called you, I need your help, please."
For a long time, he had thought the line had been cut before the voice spoke up softer but just as threatening.
"We'll see. Get your stuff and get on the 9:15 to Gotham, ticket is waiting for you... Hero." |
4,845 | 125 | 85 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Chester didn't know how he had gotten to the hospital and didn't really care too much after he regained conscious in a hospital bed. All that was on his mind was the death of his two pets who were also his closest friends. How could things have gone so wrong? Chester felt his heart ache every time his mind replayed the sight of their death in his head. He felt tears begin to fall down his cheek as he thought of those horrible memories and looked at his two casts on his right arm and leg.
"Damn, I'm going to have to tell my parents about this. I don't think I can keep doing this anymore" he said to himself and wondered what his teammates would think of him if he quit the team. His anxiety and guilt that he had ever since Robin died had increased by a large amount now that two more friends of his were dead. After about couple of hours thinking about what his next choice was, Chester finally came to a decisions, he would quit the team and try to seek help for his emotional trauma.
"I'm so sorry team" he muttered to himself as he continued to lie on the hospital bed and get treatment and checkups from the doctors. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,846 | 125 | 86 | 1,537 | 4,313 | -snip-
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,847 | 125 | 87 | 2,002 | 2,689 | After a long nap Ted woke up to the sound of banging coming from the newest addition to the Titans roster, Hero. Ted didn't like all the noise his hammer made but he thought his powers were cool even if he didn't understand exactly what they were or how they worked. That had been quite a fight the week prior but after everything was said and done Ted felt more guilt than anything about the fight since he actually enjoyed it. He realized how many people had gotten hurt and how Chester's rat friends had been killed but Never in Ted's life had he felt like he was in an actual battle, it was a feeling he now found that he enjoyed.
Ted rolled out of the rented bed and walked over curiously to the now shrunken Leviathan to, quite simply, ask him a bunch of questions about how he feels and what its like to be one guy instead of two. "Hey Levi, whats it like being stuck like that? Is one of you in control and the other one is just sorta along for the ride or how does it work?" Ted asked curiously. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,848 | 125 | 88 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Life had become somewhat erratic for El Sasquatcho. In the days following the owlbeast attack, he had become withdrawn, even quiet, as if pondering over a great decision to be made. Those who were even vaguely acquainted with the jovial Luchador could tell that something was off.
He spent most of his time away from the remaining team, busying himself with mundane tasks. There was still his legitimate work to be done with the Gotham Cultural Arts Center, which he approached with a sense of lackluster automation. He hadn't even bothered to unpack what little he owned fully, taking out only what he required for day-to-day use and replacing it again.
If he wasn't at work, he was at the hospital, checking in on his people. If he wasn't at the hospital, he was training. If he wasn't training, he was back at Grant's Gym, picking through the damage for anything of use. (While at Grant's, he took the opportunity to gather a multitude of intact feathers. They were unique, and he was an artist, after all.)
El Sasquatcho spoke comparatively little, and then mainly to the newcomer, Hero. Mostly curiosity about what he could do with automobiles. He was somewhat skilled at regular maintenance on his Vato Truck, could handle installations well enough, but working outside of a mod kit or standard part switch taxed his knowledge. Still, the conversations were mostly informal technical ones, spattered with varying bits of broken Spanish on either end.
One visit to the hospital brought him into a rather strained conversation with Chester Prince, the younger Titan expressing his doubts and desire to leave the team.
"Si si, Señor Ratboy. El Sasquatcho also has doubts. El Sasquatcho did not sign up to get his head removed from his torso by force, nor his intestines used for the double-dutch jumproping by some monologuing rudo. El Sasquatcho wanted to train with the best, and make the world better for himself and others. Still... there is uncertainty."
Shaking his still covered noggin, he continued, "Listen, if you want to leave the Titans, I have the understanding of your feelings. Do not cut us off, though. Keep in touch with El Sasquatcho. If things change, or someone comes after you, El Sasquatcho has a backup plan for us, ok? Ok, you make with the resting. El Sasquatcho will see you in a day or two."
The day progressed as days do, when one is in the process of rebuilding their life: Slowly and without mirth. This particular day had him mumbling something to his teammates about going out to get some air, maybe hit the Taco Hut nearby. He plodded down to his El Camino, the majority of his few possessions still within. With reverence, he patted the roof of the vehicle like one may a beloved pet, eased open the door, and swung himself inside.
The engine roared to life, subsiding to its usual impressive mechanical purr. He slowly backed out of his parking space, and near-idled it to the edge of the lot, facing the street with apprehension. To his left, the way to the nearest Taco Hut. The right - the highway out of Gotham. The vehicle waited there for a long moment, owing to the indecision of its driver.
In an instant of frustration, the Infamous El Sasquatcho, Blood of Saints, Titan of Gotham City, slammed his head into the steering wheel. The car responded by openly blaring its "La Cucaracha" horn into the evening air. The moment taking him, he did so more than once.
From the motel rooms, one might hear the slightly obnoxious, repetitive klaxon. La Cucaracha, La Cucaracha... La Cucara, La Cuca, La, La, La, La, La, La Cucaracha, La Cucaracha...
The engine noise roared to life again, quieting only with distance. | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,849 | 125 | 89 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Hero hammered away at weapons. Tinkering with grenades. The normal sized 'Levi' now stood in place of the two brothers, now a completely composite being in and out of giant mode. He attempted at picking up some of the trash when a knock on the door was heard. The new guy tinkering was wearing headphones listening to foreign hits, Sasquatcho had just left, and Nightlife had just woken from a nap and started asking Levi a bunch of questions as he tried to clean.
"Hey Levi, what's it like being stuck like that? Is one of you in control and the other one is just sorta along for the ride or how does it work?" Nightlife asked curiously.
Most of them were in their civilian clothes, having visited the hospital several times off and on through the last few days. Still, there was a knock on the door to be answered.
"Just help me pick up some of this trash, I'll tell you about it later. I''m gonna grab the door..." Levi responded to Ted/Nightlife.
Zhang simply turned the handle and took a step in, seeing the rather messy room along with a rather tall boy attempting to clean the room.
"Uh, I'm looking for the Titans?" She asked.
"You must be Katana's friend, Zhang?" Wildcat, the only guy in the room over fifty asked from his seat by a table next to the window.
"Titans... believe it or not Batman's determined to see this thing through and do right by you young heroes. This girl could probably whip every one of you in hand to hand." Wildcat began informing the team, standing up and sort of in between the connected rooms, "..and she won't be the only addition to the team. When El Sasquatcho gets back I gotta make the call to Bats and see if Zero's ready to check out of the hospital. Tonight you kids get ta' meet the Justice League."
Levi was ecstatic, but didn't really show much emotion as he was still getting used to being the one person. Ninety percent of the time the two were on the same train of thought and speech, but sometimes their words get jumbled when a difference of opinion has both sides questioning the consciousness. Right now both of them were thinking the same thing. Maybe somebody in the League can help them get back to normal. Zatana was a member last he'd heard. It was also nice to see some new members filling the void left by members getting injured or in the case of Parasite cocooned. Levi wondered who else might be joining the group, as weeks earlier Daniel was researching other possible metahuman teens who could be recruited into the team before Daniel and Robert had been made completely composite. Still, the knowledge was retained within this new consciousness.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,850 | 125 | 90 | 668 | 1,466 | Unfortunately for Archer, his little trip to the hospital pretty much blew his cover as far as his parents were concerned. The injuries he sustained in the fight were not really the kind one could easily explain away. Archer honestly expected to be pressured into quitting the team under the pretense of it being too dangerous. However, that never came up. At all. In fact both his parents seemed to treat the situation in a positive light, confident that working in the company of superheroes would provide a positive influence for him. Maybe they just agreed that since he was about to turn 18, they would simply trust him to make his own decisions? Or maybe Batman convinced them? Archer wasn't exactly privy to what went on around him through the first night and in the morning of the next day after being brought in. So exhausted was he that he just slipped in and out of sleep.
From what he understood, it was Hector who brought him to the hospital. As for his parents... Wildcat was likely the one who called them. When the team was first formed, Archer made up the excuse that he wanted to learn boxing and self defense under Grant's instruction, and so the elder superhero traded some contact info with Archer's parents to sell the idea to them. After a few days or so in the hospital, Archer was itching to get out and back to work. Staying in the hospital bed only ever gave him time to think. And the more time he spent thinking, the more time he spent blaming himself for all of the team's problems.
This was the third time in a row the team suffered a major blow, whilst on his watch no less. He let Mr. Freeze cripple Neith. He failed to stop the owls from capturing Ves. He couldn't protect the gym. He couldn't protect Caitlyn. His plan to stop the owls failed miserably, and was quite poorly thought out in hindsight. He couldn't even save Chester's rats. As far as hero'ing was concerned, he was doing an utterly shitty job. And, of course, there was also the tragedy with Robin still haunting the back of his mind. If only he were stronger. There had to be something - someone - who could help him.
"..." Archer said nothing. The silence in the room was deafening, the kind of quiet where could hear a slight ringing in their ears. The kind of silence that seemed to slow the world to a crawl. He was alone in the hospital room, having lost track of how many days he'd been there. Odd, since he expected his parents to have been there still, never leaving. Finally, a nurse entered, she carried a clipboard and appeared to be making marks on whatever paper was attached to it.
"Everything's checked out, you can check out whenever you're ready." she said, handing Archer the clipboard to sign. That's right, he was legally old enough to sign the check out form himself. He did so, and within minutes he was brought out to the front door on a wheelchair, as was standard practice, "And you're sure you've got transportation covered?" she asked, sounding confused since Archer had elected to contact no one about being checked out.
"I'm fine. Thanks for everything." said Archer, only half-paying attention. He was back in suit, and of course, his identity would be kept confidential. Similar to before, Zero used his powers to skate along the street and sidewalks. He was a bit sore, but otherwise he seemed okay. Perhaps he was treated with some form of advanced medication from S.T.A.R. Labs or something, he wasn't sure. He remembered Wildcat telling him something about a hotel the team was currently staying at. From Gotham Mercy Hospital - where Zero was taken - it was pretty much a straight shot to the west to reach it.
Zero wasn't going west, though. Instead he was going North-Northwest... toward Arkham Asylum. | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,851 | 125 | 91 | 2,654 | 2,774 | After Chester was released from the hospital with his right leg and arm in a cast, he informed his parents of his hero work. They weren't too pleased with what they heard and demanded that he give up on heroics. Since he had already chosen to quit the team, Chester did not argue and agreed with his parents. They allowed to him to visit the Gym one last time to pick up his things and say goodbye to his teammates. He almost had trouble speaking when he met his teammates, but he managed to find words to express his regrets at his time on the Titans coming to a close.
"I'm sorry that this couldn't work out and I'm going to miss you all. I hope that everything works out for the rest of you and please stay safe my friends. Keep my suit" he said to the rest of them with a sad smile and with one last wave Chester left the gym and slowly walked to his parent's car having to use a crutch to walk properly. Once at the vehicle he got in and closed the door. His parents then drove away and Chester rested his head on the door. He looked out the window and his mind filled with his memories of the time he had with his team. I can't believe I'm leaving them like this, oh well life goes on and I need to get help for my depression, he thought to himself. Ratboy was done for now. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,852 | 125 | 92 | 2,170 | 1,634 | ...so I'm very glad you called me, Hector. Of course, if you need me to cover a few of your classes, you just let me know. Just promise me you'll stop giving me bullshit excuses. You seem to forget, I know who you are. And I have an idea what you were doing, when the attack on Gotham finally stopped. You don't go anywhere, I'll see you in ten minutes. Order me two Pollo Grandes, huh? Make sure they don't skimp on the queso dip.
Luis Martinez, El Sasquatcho's former mentor and present supervisor at the Gotham Cultural Arts Center, had always looked out for the young hero. He had known the hairy lug since the first day he set foot in his High School, almost immediately recognizing what he was and what he could be if he took the wrong path in life. It was quite probably his influence that prevented El Sasquatcho from becoming a dark and terrible force of nature, bent on raw, hellish vengeance without regard to anything else, least of all his own safety.
The fact El Sasquatcho called him while wrestling with a hard decision spoke volumes, psychologically. He knew what the right thing was. What the almost legendary Luchador needed was someone to talk him out of doing the wrong thing.
Eight minutes later, the late-model sedan of the Martinez family barreled into the Taco Hut parking lot and came to a rubbery, squealing rest next to the only 1970 El Camino in present. Luis, a man of Latino descent in his late 30's, hopped out and jogged into the vaguely cumin-smelling establishment.
It was easy to spot the Luchador in the restaurant; the youth was dressed down in a pair of jeans and a black band tshirt (Pollo Negro '08 tour), and was cowled quite effectively in his trademark brown and black sugar skull wrestler's mask. He couldn't have laid low in this place if he had tried. Upon seeing his approach, El Sasquatcho rose from his seat and extended a hand in greeting.
He was met by a rough slap to his face.
"What is wrong with you? You know what to do!" began Mr. Martinez, without so much as a salutation.
<SMACK>
"You are El Sasquatcho!"
<SMACK>
"Blood of Saints!"
<SMACK>
"Last of your people!"
<SMACK>
"Aw, boo hoo," he said mockingly, "Me and my friends beat an army and saved the day, but we didn't win exactly how I wanted us to... Look, I don't pretend to like what you're doing. But answer me, Sasquatch, your friends - do they have a better chance of living if you're there, or if you're gone, huh? You gonna quit? You gonna let more people die? Or are you gonna get back up and fight?"
At least Luis stopped hitting him.
"The bell is about to ring, El Sasquatcho. You getting back up? Or are you going to run?" his voice softened, and arms extended as a man about to give an embrace. "Now, come here. You've had a rough week."
The two clasped each other in a long, brotherly hug. El Sasquatcho, in full view of everyone, wept openly. He may have found his way back on the right path by himself, but his mentor could shove him back there with much needed haste. Luis rasped a low whisper into El Sasquatcho's ear, "You got my burritos, right?"
Two giant bags of Taco Hut cuisine rested in the passenger seat of his El Camino, still warm and steamy from earlier. The burly Luchador stepped lively out of a convenience store, a couple of two liters and handful of scratch-off lottery tickets. Couldn't hurt, maybe he'd get lucky.
El Sasquatcho kicked at the bottom of the door to one of their rooms until someone opened. His hands were full, you see, and he really didn't feel like engaging in a three way battle with gravity and a hinky keycard. His mostly jovial attitude returned, thanks to the catharsis of his conversation just earlier.
"Ok, El Sasquatcho brings you gifts of Burritos and Soda! Si si, there is more than enough for everybody!"
It was at this time that he acquired full notice of their newest member. The presence of a stranger in their midst seemed to be taken with an fair amount of acceptance and simple "going with it", as he queried, "You, new girl! Do your people partake of the yummiful Taco Hut Burrito Grande? ...you're going to want a box of rice with that, too..."
Sequestering a bag for himself, El Sasquatcho pulled the bottom half of his mask up to allow for his speedy consumption, as he set to horking back one burrito after another, practically swimming in white cheese sauce. He sat on the floor, up against the wall, and set to his repast with raging gusto, as if he had very recently remembered how to be hungry after a long fast.
When the assault slowed, he took a fingernail to his tickets.
Were one looking very carefully at what his expression might be under his mask, they would note muted surprise and a light tremor in one hand. His eyes shifted around the room, taking in the people around him with detached observation. He composed himself fully, and let out an optimistic inquiry:
"Ok, here we are. El Sasquatcho is curious as to our next move, eh? Where do we go from here?" | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,853 | 125 | 93 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Remy was slightly nervous when it came to meeting his team for the first time and he wasn't sure how thing would go. This team seemed to have gone through a few roster changes and it sounded like they had run into some bad luck along the way. Zatanna didn't tell him much, but it sounded like they had suffered a recent battle with a wicked organization and their army of monsters. This wasn't going to be an easy ride and Remy had to be prepared for terrible situations and plans going south very quickly. His magic was powerful, but he still wasn't fully trained and had a lot to learn. No matter he was sure that his abilities would be helpful to the Titans.
He came upon the hotel that the team was staying at and saw that this was the place. Already in full costume Remy entered the building and was greeted by the sight of other young people who he guessed were his new teammates. Being raised in the south, Remy had a since of politeness and formal introductions when greeting new people and this would be no different here.
"Hello, I'm your new teammate. The name's Remy Sean, but when in the field you can call me Mystic. Magic is my specialty and I hope to be as useful as possible for this team. It's a pleasure to meet all of you" he said to the heroes in the gym and wondered if his introductions were good. Good first impressions were key in his opinion to having good teamwork and helped make a possible future of great success. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,854 | 125 | 94 | 1,602 | 2,499 | Maddie stared out of her bedroom window at the slowly setting sun over the horizon of Naples. The family had moved there recently, her parent's decision, they didn't know how they were going to handle, Maddie going away from home while at university, they had no idea how they were supposed to handle her going halfway across the world to fight crime in America. Maddie was rather solemn about the whole thing, she was ecstatic about getting to go to America, and even more excited about the possibility of meeting Batman.
However, underneath all this excitement was the resounding possibility of being injured for life. She had been informed by the Italian representative of Batman Incorporated about what had happened to Robin, and even, Ves as of recent, it was only fair for Maddie to know what she was getting into. Along with the nervousness, was her sadness for leaving. She loved her home country and her parents, and was sorry to leave them at such short notice.
She sighed, turning from her window to her room and staring at the mirror. It was going to be a long flight to America that was for sure, but old Bats' had paid for first class. The benefits of being a young hero it seemed.
Maddie carried a sports bag slung over her shoulder as she made her way up the stairs to the meeting place. She stopped when she reached the top step, taking her signature bandana out of her pocket and tying it around her head. She rubbed her tired eyes, still jet lagged from the flight. She moved around the corner to see the door to the room was already open, with a few people inside. She wandered in, shutting the door behind her and gazing at the people inside. They were a ragtag bunch that was for sure.
"Hey" She said as she walked in, before continuing her introduction. "The name's Maddalena, you can call me Maddie for short, this is the Titans place right?" She asked, her thick Italian accent coming through like a freight train. | Secret ID: Vesta 'Ves' Petrakis
Alias: Argonaut
Age: 18
Home Location: Themyscria, althought she is currently situated in Metropolis.
Powers:
-Enhanced aspects of the human body
-Flight
-Healing factor
Weaknesses:
-Naivety
-Piercing weapons hurt her more than any other kind.
Equipment:
-Lasso of truth
-Bracelets of submission
-Tiara(explained below)
-A sword (Used only in extreme emergencies)
Appearance: Vesta stands at a whopping 7 foot. She has a lightly muscular physique that does not represent her true strength by far. Her hair reaches down to her lower back and is a raven black. Vesta's skin is more pale than it is tan, although not pale enough to actually make any obvious comment about it. Her eyes are a piercing blue and are easily recognizable among other eyes. Her equipment is similar to her sisters, both in style and hue except with Vesta's having darker shades of each colour overall, and with the blue being replaced with black. While much of the equipment that Vesta received remains the same, the bracers have suffered a design change that has made them longer and more stylized. Along with this, the tiara has been replaced with a sort of metal headband that can be used as a throwing weapon alike the tiara.
Her costume is much more modern than her sisters, and while she retains a similar sort of breastplate, hers goes up to her neck rather than stopping below her shoulders. She also has tight fitting black trousers under a small amount of armour along with boots. All of her armour is styled around the Amazons.
When off mission, Ves can usually be seen wearing some sort of band T-shirt along with jeans and whatnot. She hasn't really adapted to the fashion of the outside world and it took Diana some time to explain to her that going out in a toga isn't really socially acceptable.
Personality:
Vesta is rather naive but also very courageous and willing to help anyone who needs it. A well of compassion, Vesta treats everyone equally no matter their creed, race or gender. To the point where she'd rather convince a racist to change their ways rather than attack them. Vesta tries to make jokes, but they often fall flat because of her lack of knowledge about the outside worlds customs and whatnot. While she displays a great degree of confidence, Vesta is deeply insecure and often talks about how much better her sister is when people compliment her.
The one thing that Ves is most interested in is 80s music. Her favourite band is The Smiths and even mentioning them in a positive light can make just about anyone her new best friend.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio:
Vesta was born on the mythical isle of Themyscria. Vesta, like her sister, Diana was 'born' through her 'mother', Hippolyta creating her with clay and the soul of an unborn baby. Vesta was born quite a few years after Diana who had left Themyscria before Vesta had even begun her training.
Vesta's training began when she was around 15. Her training was a tough and rigorous regime, exhausting both her body and her mind while strengthening them at the same time. Much more emphasis was based around her mental skills though, as she was never really meant to be a warrior, just a trainer. Vesta was kept oblivious to the technology and customs of the outside world, only learning what a boy was after Diana visited home and told Vesta various things about the outside world. Of course, Vesta was still quite young and the explanation was cut short of "Girls, but with hair on their chins" and Vesta was left mostly in the dark about men.
Vesta was never intended to leave Themyscria at all, instead being trained to defend it from any danger and so she could train any new Amazons to a much more efficient rate than before. However, Vesta was curious and yearned to see the outside world after speaking with her sister rather often. Eventually, after much pestering, she was allowed to visit the outside world with Hippolyta thinking that she'd prefer the comfort of home to the harshness of the 'real' world. Of course, she was wrong.
During her short visit to the outside world, Vesta was contacted by Robin and subsequently got her arse kicked with the rest of the 'team' in the fight that concluded with Robins death. Shortly after, Hippolyta had equipment similar to that of, Diana's made for Vesta in order to help her better defend herself. Of course, Vesta isn't well versed in the use of this equipment just yet but is getting the hang of using them as quickly as she can.
Vesta loved the outside world. Diana showed her how differing the technology and culture was to that of Themyscria and Vesta finally saw a man. Although while she has seen a man she still confuses non-bearded men for women every now and then. She was allowed to stay in Metropolis, cutting her training short and leaving her under the supervision of her sister.
Notes:
-Favourite band is "The Smiths"
-Has a major crush on a young David Bowie
-Favourite colour is purple
-Her favourite song is "Love and Pride" by King, although this changes frequently.
Sample Post:
Vesta dodged under the knife of her attacker. Attacker was a generous way to put it, he hadn't landed a hit on her yet. She dodged left of one swipe and right of another, unhooking her lasso and unfurling it in one flick of her wrist. She jumped back as the attacker sent a jab towards her before swinging her arm back and sending the lasso forward in one fell swoop. The lasso affixed itself around the thugs wrist, and with one tug he was sent tumbling into the wall.
Vesta flew through the air with the grace of an eagle. Swooping between buildings and under cranes as if she were born of bird herself. She looked down to the terrified criminal she held in her sturdy grip. Her mind drifted back to hearing what various other superheroes had said on the news. They usually said something dramatic and heroic to the criminal in a time like this and Vesta would be damned if she couldn't think of something cool and inspirational to say.
"Young Lady that is no way to act" She said, an obvious lack of inspiration or any semblance of cool. She saw the assailant turn their head to her with a puzzled look growing on their face.
"Young Lady?" They spoke "I'm a man!" He screamed, visibly distressed and insecure about his appearance. Vesta furrowed her brow in confusion before the confusion turned to embarrassment and her cheeks grew red.
"But you have long hair?" She said, visibly confused. The thug, equally confused asked
"So?" In a seemingly calm voice for the current situation. Vesta didn't answer, she just looked forward and left the man to stew in his own anxiety. This was the second time this week that she'd mistaken a man for a woman, and it was only Wednesday. She made haste to reach the police station and drop off the criminal before things got even more awkward.
Vesta returned to her small apartment late that night. She was surprised to find a letter left on her bed. She opened the letter with intrigue and was confused to find a meeting place written on the paper. She debated going, but ultimately decided there was little point in not going and made a mental note of the date of said meeting. |
4,855 | 125 | 95 | 668 | 1,466 | Arkham Asylum, Gotham City's most... famous landmark. "Famous" perhaps, was the wrong word. Infamous is likely much more accurate. Once upon a time, it was an estate owned by the Arkham family. That was a long, long time ago. Amadeus Arkham reformed the estate into a Psychiatric Hospital. Death and tragedy seemed to plague the Arkham family, first with the death of Arkham's mother Elizabeth, followed years later by the rape and murder of his two daughters. The Asylum's infamy only rose from there. Almost as soon as the Batman began his crusade against the crime of the city, psychotic criminals began to spring up almost as if in response. These monstrous human beings had become the common residents at the Asylum.
Over time, Arkham Asylum has had many different renovations done to it to account for some of the more... talented inmates. One such inmate, Victor Fries, had to be kept in a constantly refrigerated cell due to his condition. If let out for any reason, then the life support device from his suit would be plugged into him to keep him alive, but only the device itself, as the rest of the suit was kept locked tightly away in a vault filled with confiscated weapons and gadgets the inmates were brought in with. As for Mr. Freeze himself, he sat in his arctic cold cell in silent contemplation, perhaps planning his next escape and revenge on Batman and the young heroes who had a hand in his capture. He was interrupted from his thoughts by something metallic tapping on his cell window.
"Officer Cash," said Freeze coldly, having recognized the distinct sound of the guard's hook hand, "to what do I owe the pleasure."
"Visitation," Cash responded, even holding up the portable life support device, "apparently you still got relatives that actually give a damn about you."
Freeze complied, but he was secretly confused. He knew for a fact that Nora was the only family he had, and she surely wasn't the one visiting him. Someone was lying, that was for sure. But there was only one way to find out the meaning of all this. Freeze let himself be hooked into the portable device, and even complied with the cuffs on his wrists. After this, Cash led him to one of the Asylum's visitation rooms, this one was two rooms separated by a reinforced glass wall. Freeze and his visitor would only be able to speak through a pair of connected phones. Upon entering the room, Freeze raised his eyebrow with intrigue at his supposed relative.
"You get 5 minutes, no more, and no less." said Cash before he exited to wait just outside the door.
Approaching the glass wall, Freeze took a seat in front of his vistor and slowly picked up the phone on his end. As soon as he did he heard a voice all too familiar to him. One that belonged to a young man who, only weeks ago, had actually fought Freeze just before his capture by Green Lantern.
"I'll make this quick, Freeze. You know the power of ice better than anyone within a thousand miles of here. I need to know how to make it stronger." the voice's owner, the Titan called Zero, leaned in close to the glass wall as if to whisper, even though the window prevented him from being able to do so, "Don't forget, you're in there and I'm out here. That means there has to be something you need."
Mr. Freeze narrowed his eyes, then closed them in contemplation. The boy made a point. Being owed a favor from the outside was a valuable thing, especially in a place like Arkham. Of course, Freeze could have simply demanded his freedom, but knew that was impossible. This Titan, though useful he could be, was still just a Titan. He had neither resources nor the ability to free him. But there was something he could do. Something very important to Freeze, important enough that the man would even be willing to part with a few of his secrets as a trade for it, "Listen carefully Titan, I won't be able to repeat this..."
Several minutes later, Zero found himself finally approaching the hotel. After departing from the Asylum, he swung by a burger joint and got himself something to go. Was there food already at the hotel? Possibly, especially if Hector was around. The guy loved his Taco Hut after all. But the burger wasn't really for eating. Zero needed an excuse for where he'd been, and that seemed a good enough one to use.
When he approached the room, he saw the door closing as someone was just entering, but couldn't see who it was. Shrugging, he approached the door and let himself in. He saw a scene of teens gathered around a rather large amount of food from Taco Hut. He was also just in time to hear a girl's voice introduce herself as Maddie. When she asked if this was the Titans' place, Archer cleared his throat from behind her.
"It better be, or I'm about to feel very embarassed." he said, having to force a smile, "Sorry I'm late everyone. Just checked out and I had to get some kind of food that wasn't from the hospital. Yuck." he placed his paper bag on a table nearby and pulled up a chair. Before sitting down he dropped a backpack that held his costume inside it on the floor near one of the beds. Realizing there were new faces in the room he spoke again, "Oh right. I'm Archer. Most of the time anyway, otherwise I'm Zero." | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,856 | 125 | 96 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Ok, here we are. El Sasquatcho is curious as to our next move, eh? Where do we go from here? said the hairy masked man still sitting on the floor with his back to the wall behind a pile of burrito wrappers.
"I was telling the team earlier, Batman wants to introduce you all to the Justice League..." before Wildcat could finish, another young hero entered the room.
This kid was dressed like somebody from a Day of the Dead parade and quickly introduced himself...
"Hello, I'm your new teammate. The name's Remy Sean, but when in the field you can call me Mystic. Magic is my specialty and I hope to be as useful as possible for this team. It's a pleasure to meet all of you" he said to the heroes in the hotel rooms and wondered if his introductions were good.
Zhang wasn't the only noob in the room now. However, Remy was the only person in the two connected rooms in full gear.
"I hope you brought some civies with you, son. Sometimes ya gotta keep a low profiles and dress down. Go get that stuff off ya and get changed..." Wildcat instructed.
The door was still open. As everyone had just got over the fact not one but two new members showed up in record time... a third entered the room. A female in a bandanna came in introducing herself with a thick European accent of some kind. Most of the kids hadn't been outside of the 'States.
"The name's Maddalena, you can call me Maddie for short, this is the Titans place right?" she asked.
"It better be, or I'm about to feel very embarrassed." Archer said, having to force a smile, "Sorry I'm late everyone. Just checked out and I had to get some kind of food that wasn't from the hospital. Yuck." he placed his paper bag on a table nearby and pulled up a chair, "Oh right. I'm Archer. Most of the time anyway, otherwise I'm Zero."
"I'm gonna take a walk and reach out to Bats while everyone gets to know each other. Let him know the gang's all here. I'm glad to see you up and running again Archer. Next time just let somebody pick you up. Ice sliding after being out of action for over a week could've resulted in getting hurt again. Ya'll need to act like ya got some damn sense. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, don't wreck the rooms, and DON'T scare of the new additions.
"So Maddie, what sort of powers do you have?" the normal sized Levi asked the new recruit with the thick accent after Wildcat exited the room in his civilian attire.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,857 | 125 | 97 | 1,602 | 2,499 | Maddie looked to Levi, grinning as he asked his question. She didn't expect her power to be as powerful as the rest of the gang of course, but stranger? That was something she was sure of. Her power wasn't one normally seen on the superhero circuit, in fact the only person she could think of who had any sort of power similar to hers was Mirror Master, and he was a nerd. She stepped forward, facing El Sasquatcho, he seemed eccentric enough to accept what she was about to do with some form of gusto.
She took a small mirror out of her bag, holding it at her side before stepping back slightly and dropping it on the floor, with the mirror side face up.
"Now, I don't want you to kill me there, big guy, but stand still and keep your eyes wide open" She said, preparing for what was to happen next. Then, all of a sudden, she jumped above the mirror, before it began quickly shrinking and sucking her in. At the same time, she was regrowing and exiting out of El Sasquatcho's left eye, before fully composing herself at her full size just in front of him. A completely harmless procedure, but one that might have angered anyone who didn't know what was going to happen.
"My power is based around reflection, anything that reflects I can travel through or make anything I want travel through" She explained, before reaching into her bag and taking out two large metallic gauntlets, and displaying them to the group. "I also carry these, they let me shoot lasers and lift stuff, so that's cool I suppose" | Secret ID: Vesta 'Ves' Petrakis
Alias: Argonaut
Age: 18
Home Location: Themyscria, althought she is currently situated in Metropolis.
Powers:
-Enhanced aspects of the human body
-Flight
-Healing factor
Weaknesses:
-Naivety
-Piercing weapons hurt her more than any other kind.
Equipment:
-Lasso of truth
-Bracelets of submission
-Tiara(explained below)
-A sword (Used only in extreme emergencies)
Appearance: Vesta stands at a whopping 7 foot. She has a lightly muscular physique that does not represent her true strength by far. Her hair reaches down to her lower back and is a raven black. Vesta's skin is more pale than it is tan, although not pale enough to actually make any obvious comment about it. Her eyes are a piercing blue and are easily recognizable among other eyes. Her equipment is similar to her sisters, both in style and hue except with Vesta's having darker shades of each colour overall, and with the blue being replaced with black. While much of the equipment that Vesta received remains the same, the bracers have suffered a design change that has made them longer and more stylized. Along with this, the tiara has been replaced with a sort of metal headband that can be used as a throwing weapon alike the tiara.
Her costume is much more modern than her sisters, and while she retains a similar sort of breastplate, hers goes up to her neck rather than stopping below her shoulders. She also has tight fitting black trousers under a small amount of armour along with boots. All of her armour is styled around the Amazons.
When off mission, Ves can usually be seen wearing some sort of band T-shirt along with jeans and whatnot. She hasn't really adapted to the fashion of the outside world and it took Diana some time to explain to her that going out in a toga isn't really socially acceptable.
Personality:
Vesta is rather naive but also very courageous and willing to help anyone who needs it. A well of compassion, Vesta treats everyone equally no matter their creed, race or gender. To the point where she'd rather convince a racist to change their ways rather than attack them. Vesta tries to make jokes, but they often fall flat because of her lack of knowledge about the outside worlds customs and whatnot. While she displays a great degree of confidence, Vesta is deeply insecure and often talks about how much better her sister is when people compliment her.
The one thing that Ves is most interested in is 80s music. Her favourite band is The Smiths and even mentioning them in a positive light can make just about anyone her new best friend.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio:
Vesta was born on the mythical isle of Themyscria. Vesta, like her sister, Diana was 'born' through her 'mother', Hippolyta creating her with clay and the soul of an unborn baby. Vesta was born quite a few years after Diana who had left Themyscria before Vesta had even begun her training.
Vesta's training began when she was around 15. Her training was a tough and rigorous regime, exhausting both her body and her mind while strengthening them at the same time. Much more emphasis was based around her mental skills though, as she was never really meant to be a warrior, just a trainer. Vesta was kept oblivious to the technology and customs of the outside world, only learning what a boy was after Diana visited home and told Vesta various things about the outside world. Of course, Vesta was still quite young and the explanation was cut short of "Girls, but with hair on their chins" and Vesta was left mostly in the dark about men.
Vesta was never intended to leave Themyscria at all, instead being trained to defend it from any danger and so she could train any new Amazons to a much more efficient rate than before. However, Vesta was curious and yearned to see the outside world after speaking with her sister rather often. Eventually, after much pestering, she was allowed to visit the outside world with Hippolyta thinking that she'd prefer the comfort of home to the harshness of the 'real' world. Of course, she was wrong.
During her short visit to the outside world, Vesta was contacted by Robin and subsequently got her arse kicked with the rest of the 'team' in the fight that concluded with Robins death. Shortly after, Hippolyta had equipment similar to that of, Diana's made for Vesta in order to help her better defend herself. Of course, Vesta isn't well versed in the use of this equipment just yet but is getting the hang of using them as quickly as she can.
Vesta loved the outside world. Diana showed her how differing the technology and culture was to that of Themyscria and Vesta finally saw a man. Although while she has seen a man she still confuses non-bearded men for women every now and then. She was allowed to stay in Metropolis, cutting her training short and leaving her under the supervision of her sister.
Notes:
-Favourite band is "The Smiths"
-Has a major crush on a young David Bowie
-Favourite colour is purple
-Her favourite song is "Love and Pride" by King, although this changes frequently.
Sample Post:
Vesta dodged under the knife of her attacker. Attacker was a generous way to put it, he hadn't landed a hit on her yet. She dodged left of one swipe and right of another, unhooking her lasso and unfurling it in one flick of her wrist. She jumped back as the attacker sent a jab towards her before swinging her arm back and sending the lasso forward in one fell swoop. The lasso affixed itself around the thugs wrist, and with one tug he was sent tumbling into the wall.
Vesta flew through the air with the grace of an eagle. Swooping between buildings and under cranes as if she were born of bird herself. She looked down to the terrified criminal she held in her sturdy grip. Her mind drifted back to hearing what various other superheroes had said on the news. They usually said something dramatic and heroic to the criminal in a time like this and Vesta would be damned if she couldn't think of something cool and inspirational to say.
"Young Lady that is no way to act" She said, an obvious lack of inspiration or any semblance of cool. She saw the assailant turn their head to her with a puzzled look growing on their face.
"Young Lady?" They spoke "I'm a man!" He screamed, visibly distressed and insecure about his appearance. Vesta furrowed her brow in confusion before the confusion turned to embarrassment and her cheeks grew red.
"But you have long hair?" She said, visibly confused. The thug, equally confused asked
"So?" In a seemingly calm voice for the current situation. Vesta didn't answer, she just looked forward and left the man to stew in his own anxiety. This was the second time this week that she'd mistaken a man for a woman, and it was only Wednesday. She made haste to reach the police station and drop off the criminal before things got even more awkward.
Vesta returned to her small apartment late that night. She was surprised to find a letter left on her bed. She opened the letter with intrigue and was confused to find a meeting place written on the paper. She debated going, but ultimately decided there was little point in not going and made a mental note of the date of said meeting. |
4,858 | 125 | 98 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Years from now, looking back over his career as a Luchador and exponent of Batman, El Sasquatcho would make a note of this moment. Yes, the greying (but very powerful) masked Warrior of Justice, wielding a traditional pen in his massive, shaggy hand, sat to scribe his memoirs. A graceful hand, writing in flowing Español, detailed the events of the day.
While not the most unusual thing that had happened to him in his lifetime, it was indeed noteworthy when a young lady he'd just met disappeared into a hand mirror and re-emerged from his left eyeball. He shuddered reflexively; while maintaining a cool and collected exterior during the actual event, the memory of its first occurrence was a little traumatic. He grew accustomed to the technique of instant travel via reflective surfaces - any reflective surface, no matter how personally invasive, but that first time was uniquely disturbing.
From his study, the elder Luchador gazed out into the yard, his little grandsasquatchos (who had yet to acquire their own identities, and wore family masks in the interim) playing games involving flying off of turnbuckles and suplexing each other off of a trampoline. Yes, one day they would be mighty, as were their parents and grandparents. Dama Muerte had blessed them, or so it was written, for the actions of their progenitor and his steadfast dedication to his family and their ideals.
The venerable Lucha Livre wrestler rose from his chair and breathed the prideful sigh of an accomplished family man. His hair, now worn in a preternaturally thick, grey braid, emerged from the back of his full coverage sugar skull mask and swung loosely at his waist. If anything, El Sasquatcho looked bulkier; stronger, more defined - as if age improved him like wine instead of turning him to vinegar. He recalled, if but for another moment, his youthful days with the Titans. Decisions made, feelings processed, friends made and lost.
Rosto de la Muerte, had he really been that green?
El Sasquatcho shook off the thought. Of course he was; they all were. Time and experience made better warriors of them all, those that survived and stuck with it. Training and willingness to keep each other alive. Trial by combat against deadly adversaries that kids like them never should have been thrown at. They really weren't ready back then. Not at first. Their training should have started much earlier, and since that time the world had become a much more dangerous place.
With precisely this in mind, the mighty El Sasquatcho, Sangre de los Santos, Patriarch of his Line and Leaguesman of Stature turned and walked out to play with the youngest generation of upcoming Familia Delacruz Luchadors.
PRESENT DAY:
"Umm... madame?" began El Sasquatcho in a calm, respectful tone, "That was muy impressive, the eyeball jumping thing. If you would be kind enough to excuse El Sasquatcho, El Sasquatcho needs to go into the bathroom and get all of his Heebies and Jeebies out before he blows burritos across the hotel. Pardon, mi amiga."
With as much dignity as he could muster, the burly, hairy, masked man retreated to the suite's lavatory. While one could not see the involuntary shudder of revulsion, they could clearly hear the exclamation of "Yeck!" from behind the door. He returned shortly thereafter to meet the rest of his team. | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,859 | 125 | 99 | 1,537 | 4,313 | Thirty minutes from now...
"Titans of Gotham, meet the Justice League." Ted Grant said with a bit of a smile on his face at the reactions of some of the group.
Right now...
Ted Grant walked back into the hotel rooms. He walked to the bathroom and threw some water on his face. The elder hero made an attempt to fix his hair, and changed his shirt. The kids seemed to get along all right. 'Levi' as he was being called now continued to try and clean up after the group, despite their non efforts of keeping it neat and tidy.
Alfred was driving from the other side of town in a limo. Long and black, it looked like something reserved for the rich, which it had been until now. It took him maybe twenty-five minutes to get to the other side of town to the hotel. He beeped the horn a couple times and what followed was Ted Grant and the team piling into the vehicle. It was only a minute or two before they came to their destination where Grant led them to the basement level of an abandoned Wayne Industries building. There was a large circular shape with tech on both sides of it.
"Everyone stand together and try not to move much if at all. This teleporter is a bit different from mine, but it will take us to the watchtower...." Ted Grant explained to all of the Titans in their civilian clothes.
Moments later...
"Titans of Gotham, meet the Justice League." Ted Grant said with a bit of a smile on his face at the reactions of some of the group.
The teen heroes were in what appeared to be a teleporter room and lobby where the League stood in front of them in all of their glory. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern John Stewart, Aquaman, Starman , and Zatanna.
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,860 | 125 | 100 | 668 | 1,466 | Being in the presence of the Justice League was supposed to make one feel proud, or at the very least honored. Zero, on the other hand, felt like a kid being sent to the principal's office at school. There was obviously no way to know what each of the world-famous heroes were thinking, but feeling their stares was frightening all the same. Zero felt like he was being judged, like he died and this was the gates of heaven or something and the League were the archangels charged with deciding if one was worthy of entering, while he himself felt like the world's biggest sinner. Needless to say, he didn't feel very worthy of being here.
Despite that, he noticed something a bit off. The Green Lantern standing before the team was certainly not the one who helped them before with Freeze. Having no idea how the Green Lanterns operated, Zero couldn't help but dare to speak up, "Um... did - did something happen to the other Green Lantern?" he wasn't sure the kind of answer he'd get. Last time he questioned something of one of the League members, Wildcat basically chewed him out, so he was half-expecting that to happen again.
A moment later, he realized something else. Zero stepped a bit closer to Wonder Woman's direction. This time he didn't sound the least bit timid, especially not since the question he had involved his friend, "Ves? Is she okay?" he asked the Amazon Princess, remembering that he passed out before ever seeing how the fight at the gym turned out. He felt his eyes water a bit and then he blurted, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect her. Or anyone..." something about standing there in Wonder Woman's presence made him feel the need to confess the guilt he was feeling. Maybe that was why she was called the Spirit of Truth? | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,861 | 125 | 101 | 2,654 | 2,774 | Remy was taken a bit back when Grant asked if he had civilian clothing tp put, well he thought that as a team they would be in costume to protect their identities when together like this, but luckily he had brought a pack with a change of clothes so he could wear civilian clothing when necessary. He quickly went to the bathroom and changed from his hero costume into his normal clothes. Once he rejoined the others Remy looked at each of his teammates trying to get a sense of what kind of person they were. He listened to them explain their powers and it looked like he was unique in the sense that he was the only one with voodoo magic powers.
"I hope you all don't mind the dark aspect of voodoo magic. My power can be quite frightening at times, but trust me it is on our side" he said to others. Then he heard the limo pull up and honk its horn and they all went to get in the vehicle. Remy had never rode in a limo before and he had to admit that this was very fun. Eventually they came a place that had a teleporter and they journeyed to where the legendary Justice league was. Remy was almost chocked up, he had never expected to get to meet the entire league. He saw that Zatanna was among them and he waved.
"Hello Zatanna, how's it been going? This whole team thing seems to be pretty cool" he said to the league member. Remy wondered if this meant that they were now going to join the league, he had just joined the Titans and already they were meeting the senior heroes. He then noticed Zero asking the league members a few questions and he wondered if his teammate was okay. | Secret ID: Caitlyn Gump
Alias: Parasite
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham, a wonderful place of opportunity, if you have the money and status.
Powers:
None of her own to speak of, but has a symbiotic relationship with a parasitical creature Caitlyn affectionately named "Bug", which is attached to her left arm, it gives her:
Envenomed Claws, cumulative paralytic
A projectile gunk shot, hazardous to health long term
Hook Shot Capabilities
Shell Armour Plating
Hazmat-lite, Bug Detoxes and filters Caitlyn's blood, making her resistant to chemical and biological warfare.
Defib-lite, Bug's Heart continues to pump blood around Caitlyn's body, even if Caitlyn's heart isn't.
Bug is semi-sentient and communicates Caitlyn neurally, feeding her powerful messages of hunger and self preservation.
Bug continues to grow, giving more powers to its beloved host but enveloping more of Caitlyn.
Weaknesses:
Besides her left arm she is entirely human, no powers attached.
Bug must be fed regularly to be any use
Bug can act against Caitlyn's will if it believes Caitlyn is endangering both of them.
Ingestion of unknown Paraciticides slows Bug down
Caitlyn is used to operating alone and finds it hard to trust others.
Technophobe, not literally, but sucks with computers.
Appearance:
A dirty street urchin with an alien creature for a left arm.
Curly mousy brown hair, cut shoulder length with a rusty scissor blade
Her eyes are dark and full of mistrust
She stands at a skinny 5'6" and weighs 170lbs, Bug included
Used to wear almost exclusively dark baggy clothing, but in light of becoming a TITAN has revamped her look, somewhat. Her hoodie has been swapped out for the more respectable, sleeveless turtleneck jumper and her cargo trousers for, well, better cargo trousers, you can take a girl out of the slums. Her sick hi-tops have also be traded in for more respectable combat ready footwear. This was going up in the world for her, she wasn't going to lose such an opportunity by looking scruffy.
Personality:
Caitlyn has dedicated her life from escaping the hell hole that her former life. All opportunities taken, nothing squandered. However her foresight is not twenty twenty, tends to give up long term rewards for short term boons. Caitlyn's trust must be earnt and is more easily lost than gotten. This however, doesn't stop her from being civil with you, something you learn on the streets, so you won't know whether you have it or you don't. Her desire to be a TITAN is not so much one of love for saving people, but of not having to be a criminal anymore, and sees it way to bigger things. She is manipulative and she is a deceiver but she isn't cruel and certainly not a bad person. As someone who often acted alone, she has little teamwork or leadership skills but will endeavor to acquire them when they've shown their value.
Her and Bug had come along way since they day they were first introduced, that day was pivotal in ways she barely understood at the time. She was 13, out of school and trying to help pay off a debt of a father she never met. Pick pocketing worked for a while, till mother's "gentlemen friends" went too many weeks without a visit to her bedroom. Payments went up, the bruises came back. The items stolen and fenced got more expensive; phones, laptops, computers, but it was never quite enough, according to the collectors.
"13 years old, wow, how time flies", the big one would say on the way out as they grabbed the hats and coats they'd slung over the sofa earlier,"I remember when you were only a wee nipper, look how much you've grown."
The other, cigarette in mouth, swinging his coat over his thin shoulders,"She's a smart little monkey too, Gov"
"Really now? Maybe she can come work with us, we could always do with a helping hand in the office", they'd both laugh in such away you knew they didn't mean it so much as a dirty joke as they did just dirty. "Maybe when she's a bit bigger."
"Yeah, and maybe she can finish what her daddy started too, you know he was this close to crackin-"
"Thats enough Freddy, were done here."
As Freddy unlocked the door, the big guy, who's name she knew would slip a silver coin out of his coat pocket and deposit into Caitlyn's palm.
"For my favourite God-daughter, buy yourself something sweet."
The same charade every month, little did they know it was the last. Tonight she wasn't staying for the awkward silent late supper before bed. She was meeting him, the Man of Promises. Shortly after the men left, Caitlyn changed back out of pajamas and left into the darkness. Their meeting place was a dark alleyway approximately half way between Caitlyn's home and the office Fred and the Boss man returned too every month after visiting, the heavy cloud cover obscured the moon but the streets were no darker thanks to the powerful neon lampposts. Drunkards already littered the street and their harmless, but watchful gaze made Caitlyn's heart pound harder. The video rental, the second hand store, the charity store, the coffee shop. The alley opened before her, its gaping chasm threatening to swallow her whole. A man in sunglasses was waiting in a door way deeper down. Him. Caitlyn walked down and followed him into the room he was propping open. Caitlyn took a seat at the table that had been dragged into the closet from cafe side.
An ornate wooden box lay on the table, unlocked. The lid seemed still, but periodically Caitlyn could have sworn it lifted up, if only by millimeters. The box demanded her attention, in it was a promise, so she was told. An opportunity to escape the life she had, to be slave to no one and take control of her own destiny.
"Are you sure this is what you want Miss Gump?"
"I want it to stop"
"And you're willing to do what is necessary?"
"Yes"
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
"Yes"
"So be it, lift the lid of the box"
Caitlyn placed her hands on either side of the lid. What on earth could be in this box? She wasted no time, but immediately regretted it. The contents wriggled and Caitlyn slammed the lid back down.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE?"
"Freedom, Miss Gump"
Caitlyn lifted the lid a little slower this time, fingers as far from any of the alien creatures as she could. Thorny, writhing unearthly creatures litter the box, there might have been seven or eight of them all unique in their horrid design.
"What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Please pick one, today is the day you escape the chains of society"
"I came here for a gun, you said you were going to give me a weapon to fight my oppressors with"
He scoffed, "I am giving you something better than a gun," he paused, "Liberation. Pick one."
None of them were particularly inviting, but maybe that was the point. He was wasting her time. She got up to leave but a firm hand pushed her back into her seat.
"Do not make the mistake others have made, Miss Gump, you leave this room and you walk back into your old life, back into the sadness and the misery and the hopelessness, this is your chance to escape. I can assure you that you will not regret this, pick one."
Caitlyn looked back into the box of horrors.
"That one."
"A fine choice, the first of many."
He lifted the 7 inch monstrosity out of the box, with no more care than if it were a hamster. Holding it by the giant thorn he rolled it in air and stroked it along the belly side. It relaxed and opened up exposing its lemon yellow, fleshy insides.
"Your hand, Miss Gump."
She didn't respond but her expression said everything. Nope. Nope. Nope. The Man of Promises took her hand from the table. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. He pulled her hand slowly into position, Caitlyn transfixed on the creature, which seem to wriggle more excitedly as her middle finger got closer. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. She looked up to the man, her face filled with horror, her eyes begged for it to end. She could feel the warmth radiating from the creatures insides on her finger. Every moment waiting for it to clamp around it was agony, the torture never ending. NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! She squeezed her eyes tight and braced for the pain of her skin being devoured by the hungry evil creature, but it never came.
The man relaxed his grip on her wrist, and smiled.
"Welcome to the first day of your new life."
Password: Gnarkk |
4,862 | 125 | 102 | 2,002 | 2,689 | With all the newcomers to the group and the much welcomed return of Zero and El Sasquatcho Nightlife just sat to the side and watched the others interact with each other. He didn't really feel like mingling with anyone at the moment but he was glad that Zero was alright and that he wasn't the new kid on the block anymore. At the mention of the one newcomer's scary voodoo magic, Ted chuckled a little and decided to chime in while sitting on one of the beds "Voodoo's cool with me, as long as you don't go stealing my hair and making dolls of me." Ted said as he chuckled a little but secretly wondered if Remy could actually make voodoo dolls or if that was just some kind of stereotype.
Eventually everyone got called down to a limo which, in of itself, was pretty cool for Ted. As soon as they got in Ted early looked around at the smallest of things in the long car. "Hey, can you put on Gotham city Radio? I swear if I have to listen to one more indie rock band thing I'll rip out my ear drums." Ted jested. When they finally got to the abandoned Wayne Industries building, Ted wasn't entirely sure why they were there but he got excited once more when he saw the teleporter to which he ran up to and quickly got in the middle.
In a stupendous flash of light they were in front of the Justice League which left Ted speechless, he hadn't felt this much glee since the day he joined the Titans. "I- It- Ehh- It's an honour to meet you all." Ted said with a slight bow as he didn't know how he was supposed to react to this whole situation. | Secret ID: Theodore 'Ted' Saxton
Alias: Nightlife
Age: 16
Home Location: Blüdhaven
Powers:
Sonic Screech- Ted's one and only power which allows him to essentially scream loud enough to shatter steel. Ted isn't very experienced with using his power yet so he tends to save it for big foes or dire situations.
Weaknesses:
Human- Being human has its disadvantages such as being susceptible to bladed weapons, bullet wounds, head trauma, vertigo, etc, etc.
Equipment:
Body Armour- Since Ted doesn't have enhanced strength, speed or durability he needs to rely on some padding to keep him from keeling over from some stray shrapnel. It can't stop bullets but it can dampen the impact of blunt force and defend Ted somewhat from sharp objects.
Extendable Bo Staff- Ted doesn't have a whole lot in the strength department and his expertise in martial arts isn't at a level where it can be effective against larger foes so Ted relies on his trusty staff to help him when beating justice into enemies at least until he can become better at fighting with his fists.
Appearance: Ted is somewhat athletic in build although he's no quarterback or swimmer but he isn't a slob. He has fair skin, short brown hair and dull blue eyes. Ted's costume is inspired by Black Canary's but is different in quite a few ways. He has a small black mask much like that of nightwing or Robin (ie mostly just covers the eyes), a black leather jacket with obvious, plastic shoulder pads on the outside and elbow pads hidden beneath the jacket. Underneath the leather jacket is a dark blue, long sleeve shirt with a small pouch in it used to keep his retractable Bo-staff and Moped keys. Ted wears somewhat baggy pants which is the same colour and made of the same material as his shirt. Ted wears knee pads over the pants and has a pair of black batman grade sneakers. The material that Ted's pants and shirt are made of are padded for extra defence.
Personality: Ted usually has a upbeat attitude, always seeming excited for whatever he is doing but when crime fighting he gets quieter though still makes remarks if he deems it funny enough or appropriate. He is also a complete superhero fanboy.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Ted grew up in a low income household but with parents who truly cared for him and he was fine with that. He began working as soon as he could in order to earn more money for his family so they could live a little easier. Eventually his family fell into some good luck as Ted's father won the lottery and they were bumped up to the middle class which was essentially like taking a plant in a dark room out into a rich forest. For the first time his family had some spending money which allowed Ted to start taking martial arts lessons in order to fulfill his life long dream.
Ever since Ted was little he wanted to do something worth while with his life like invent the cure for cancer or discover life on another planet but when heroes like Batman and the justice league began to turn up he knew what he wanted to do. He had been surrounded by violence from criminals most of his life and he knew how scary the whole thing could be so he decided that crime fighting was his calling, his grand thing to achieve and this dream was only reinforced by the discovery of his latent power of a sonic screech. He wasn't contacted by Robin when he was recruiting teen heroes but in the small amount of time between then and Ted's induction into the Titans, Nightlife began really making a difference in his community by taking down the local criminals. This coupled with his meta-human ability is what qualified him to join the newly formed Titans team.
Notes:
-Ted doesn't have a drivers license but has a learners.
-Ted has a shiny black Moped with chipped paint.
Sample Post: Ted was running as fast as he could through the streets of Blüdhaven as he frantically checked behind him. He began to think of slowing down until he heard the loud booming sound coming from behind him.
It was almost here.
"Where is it, where is it, where is it!" Ted thought as he came to a stop and looked around nervously. Finally the boy's Moped caught his eye which gave him a reinvigorated sense of hope as he dashed towards his trusty steed and started it up. With a great amount of fumbling the hero managed to put his helmet on just in time to hear another loud boom, this time much closer. Ted kicked up his kick stand and began driving as fast as he could down the nearly empty streets of Blüdhaven. As he drove Ted began to realize there was no way he was going to outrun his pursuer but he tried all the same. As valiant as his efforts were the first signs of his enemy showed its ugly head in the form of a single drop of water on his helmet "shoot." was all that Ted said before the sky gave way to a tremendous amount of rain. As Ted drove down the street getting wetter and wetter he could only think that there was likely no way his night could get worse. |
4,863 | 125 | 103 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Looking at the situation, El Sasquatcho should have been awestruck at setting foot in the legendary Watchtower and meeting real, established Heroes. In truth, he was. The majority of his mirth was tucked away, sapped out of him by a week that was, if nothing else, emotionally draining.
So here he stood with his fellow Titans, taking in sights that few would ever see. He felt a little out of place, what with everyone being plainclothed in a satellite full of epic heroes in epic hero garb. His one saving grace: He wore his mask. Always. Blue jeans, black band shirt (Pollo Negro, '08 tour to be precise), big stomping boots, brown & black sugar skull mask.
El Sasquatcho smiled wearily at his situation. He smiled, but remained on guard. He was given no reason as to why they were summoned to the Tower, except that Batman wanted them there. Maybe it was training. Maybe it was a test. Regardless, he was not to be taken unawares. That had occurred too many times lately.
Zero inquired as to the status of their fallen teammate, Vesta. El Sasquatcho was also particularly interested as well, but something more pressing came to his attention. A burgeoning need, if you will.
"Sirs, Madames of the Justice League..." he began with a great, cultured voice, his Mexican but not quite Mexican accent making his vowels perilous to the listener, "If El Sasquatcho may be permitted a but a moment of your inestimably important time, there is an issue to which attention must be payed."
Hopefully taking the rapt attention of the assembled Justice League, El Sasquatcho proceeded to vocalize his concerns. "Señors Super and Bat Man, Miss Woman, Luces Verde, Aguaman y Estrella Guy, and, umm... lo siento, my lady, El Sasquatcho is not really familiar with your body of work." he paused for a second, unsure of how to proceed. Urgency prompted immediate honesty, but his sense of propriety took a shaving of the bluntness from it. "El Sasquatcho has consumed many Grilled Stuffed Burritos today, and followed it with a efrigging two liter of pineapple soda. Por favor, donde esta los servicios por bano? Sorry, umm... El Sasquatcho really needs to find the Little Squatch's Room, if you could point in its direction, El Sasquatcho would be particularly grateful."
"Well, and for saving the world all those times, El Sasquatcho is also with the gratitude. But for now, necesito el baño. Gracias." | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,864 | 125 | 104 | 1,602 | 2,499 | Deep in the recesses of STAR Labs' high security storage facility, a creature stirred. Caitlyn awoke to a dark world, the force of several people pressing down on her. She strained against the flesh that immobilised her but it only squeezed her tighter.
"Real funny guys, stop holding me down and turn on the lights or I'll beat the living daylight out of each and everyone of you!"
The was a deafening silence from her restrainers, maybe aggression wasn't the best tactic.
"Ha, ha! You got me guys! The old pin the puny weakling using our extraordinary strength routine! Ha ha ha!"
She wriggled again but to no avail.
"C'mon El Sasquatcho, this is no way to treat a lady."
Still nothing, she couldn't even loosen the grip on her slender right hand.
"~Please release me, let me go~"
"Alright, we're done."
"Look you win! I can't move!"
"You're hurting me, y'know and I can barely breathe!"
"Just let go, you've made your point already!"
"You lot know this is unfair, just stop"
"I swear if one of you has coped a feel I'm gunna-"
"LET GO, NOW"
Caitlyn twisted and strained, coiled and writhed to escape the indomitable grasp. Nothing worked.
"Guys stop it now! How could you possibly think this is funny?"
"Ḭt̨̩̩̆̐ͯ̊s̸̹̦̞̤͔̳̭͛̂̐ͩ͗̍ ̩̀̅̓̍ͮn̤͖̮͍̜̳ͬ̊͋o̷͇̗̰͕͚ͤ͒̉̔͗̚ͅt̞͙̫̯̗̺͊̀̃͛͟ ͚̼̯̜̥̻̅̂ͨͣͤm͉͙̳͎͔̘̉e̲̩͔̖̻̻̽ͯȃ̸̟̼̺̫͈̓͆́ͮn͇͉̱̗̱̣ͪͫͦͬ͜t͏̺͓̫̰̣̩ ̝͕̲͕̔̊ͣ̈́̓ͅt̠̬̟͙͓̝ͤ͆ó̻̗͎̲̣̃ ̻̣͙̩̼ͨ̿ͧ̽̐bͣͦ͒e̪̬̝̞̜̮͑̒͑̌͆ ̮͔̱̠̞͔͙̇̌ͧ͘ḟͨ͑u̩̪̻̰̭̭̓ͯ̄̃ͫ̊̀ͅn̖̮͋͡n̖̬̳ͭỹ̥͉̩͛ͪͤ̽ͯ" | Secret ID: Vesta 'Ves' Petrakis
Alias: Argonaut
Age: 18
Home Location: Themyscria, althought she is currently situated in Metropolis.
Powers:
-Enhanced aspects of the human body
-Flight
-Healing factor
Weaknesses:
-Naivety
-Piercing weapons hurt her more than any other kind.
Equipment:
-Lasso of truth
-Bracelets of submission
-Tiara(explained below)
-A sword (Used only in extreme emergencies)
Appearance: Vesta stands at a whopping 7 foot. She has a lightly muscular physique that does not represent her true strength by far. Her hair reaches down to her lower back and is a raven black. Vesta's skin is more pale than it is tan, although not pale enough to actually make any obvious comment about it. Her eyes are a piercing blue and are easily recognizable among other eyes. Her equipment is similar to her sisters, both in style and hue except with Vesta's having darker shades of each colour overall, and with the blue being replaced with black. While much of the equipment that Vesta received remains the same, the bracers have suffered a design change that has made them longer and more stylized. Along with this, the tiara has been replaced with a sort of metal headband that can be used as a throwing weapon alike the tiara.
Her costume is much more modern than her sisters, and while she retains a similar sort of breastplate, hers goes up to her neck rather than stopping below her shoulders. She also has tight fitting black trousers under a small amount of armour along with boots. All of her armour is styled around the Amazons.
When off mission, Ves can usually be seen wearing some sort of band T-shirt along with jeans and whatnot. She hasn't really adapted to the fashion of the outside world and it took Diana some time to explain to her that going out in a toga isn't really socially acceptable.
Personality:
Vesta is rather naive but also very courageous and willing to help anyone who needs it. A well of compassion, Vesta treats everyone equally no matter their creed, race or gender. To the point where she'd rather convince a racist to change their ways rather than attack them. Vesta tries to make jokes, but they often fall flat because of her lack of knowledge about the outside worlds customs and whatnot. While she displays a great degree of confidence, Vesta is deeply insecure and often talks about how much better her sister is when people compliment her.
The one thing that Ves is most interested in is 80s music. Her favourite band is The Smiths and even mentioning them in a positive light can make just about anyone her new best friend.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio:
Vesta was born on the mythical isle of Themyscria. Vesta, like her sister, Diana was 'born' through her 'mother', Hippolyta creating her with clay and the soul of an unborn baby. Vesta was born quite a few years after Diana who had left Themyscria before Vesta had even begun her training.
Vesta's training began when she was around 15. Her training was a tough and rigorous regime, exhausting both her body and her mind while strengthening them at the same time. Much more emphasis was based around her mental skills though, as she was never really meant to be a warrior, just a trainer. Vesta was kept oblivious to the technology and customs of the outside world, only learning what a boy was after Diana visited home and told Vesta various things about the outside world. Of course, Vesta was still quite young and the explanation was cut short of "Girls, but with hair on their chins" and Vesta was left mostly in the dark about men.
Vesta was never intended to leave Themyscria at all, instead being trained to defend it from any danger and so she could train any new Amazons to a much more efficient rate than before. However, Vesta was curious and yearned to see the outside world after speaking with her sister rather often. Eventually, after much pestering, she was allowed to visit the outside world with Hippolyta thinking that she'd prefer the comfort of home to the harshness of the 'real' world. Of course, she was wrong.
During her short visit to the outside world, Vesta was contacted by Robin and subsequently got her arse kicked with the rest of the 'team' in the fight that concluded with Robins death. Shortly after, Hippolyta had equipment similar to that of, Diana's made for Vesta in order to help her better defend herself. Of course, Vesta isn't well versed in the use of this equipment just yet but is getting the hang of using them as quickly as she can.
Vesta loved the outside world. Diana showed her how differing the technology and culture was to that of Themyscria and Vesta finally saw a man. Although while she has seen a man she still confuses non-bearded men for women every now and then. She was allowed to stay in Metropolis, cutting her training short and leaving her under the supervision of her sister.
Notes:
-Favourite band is "The Smiths"
-Has a major crush on a young David Bowie
-Favourite colour is purple
-Her favourite song is "Love and Pride" by King, although this changes frequently.
Sample Post:
Vesta dodged under the knife of her attacker. Attacker was a generous way to put it, he hadn't landed a hit on her yet. She dodged left of one swipe and right of another, unhooking her lasso and unfurling it in one flick of her wrist. She jumped back as the attacker sent a jab towards her before swinging her arm back and sending the lasso forward in one fell swoop. The lasso affixed itself around the thugs wrist, and with one tug he was sent tumbling into the wall.
Vesta flew through the air with the grace of an eagle. Swooping between buildings and under cranes as if she were born of bird herself. She looked down to the terrified criminal she held in her sturdy grip. Her mind drifted back to hearing what various other superheroes had said on the news. They usually said something dramatic and heroic to the criminal in a time like this and Vesta would be damned if she couldn't think of something cool and inspirational to say.
"Young Lady that is no way to act" She said, an obvious lack of inspiration or any semblance of cool. She saw the assailant turn their head to her with a puzzled look growing on their face.
"Young Lady?" They spoke "I'm a man!" He screamed, visibly distressed and insecure about his appearance. Vesta furrowed her brow in confusion before the confusion turned to embarrassment and her cheeks grew red.
"But you have long hair?" She said, visibly confused. The thug, equally confused asked
"So?" In a seemingly calm voice for the current situation. Vesta didn't answer, she just looked forward and left the man to stew in his own anxiety. This was the second time this week that she'd mistaken a man for a woman, and it was only Wednesday. She made haste to reach the police station and drop off the criminal before things got even more awkward.
Vesta returned to her small apartment late that night. She was surprised to find a letter left on her bed. She opened the letter with intrigue and was confused to find a meeting place written on the paper. She debated going, but ultimately decided there was little point in not going and made a mental note of the date of said meeting. |
4,865 | 125 | 105 | 1,537 | 4,313 | I- It- Ehh- It's an honor to meet you all. spoke Nightlife.
"Um... did - did something happen to the other Green Lantern?" Zero asked in a bit of an awkward voice seconds later.
"There's two Green Lanterns for every space sector. The other guy is just outside the orbit of Saturn chasing off some space pirates. We're both members of the League..." John Stewart explained.
"Ves? Is she okay?" Zero then asked the Amazon Princess walking in her direction, not knowing that his arm was grazing the lasso of truth, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect her. Or anyone..."
"She is doing well, I'll let her know you asked about her. You might want to step back away from the magic lasso before you start telling everyone about everything you know." Wonder Woman answered with a bit of a laugh.
"Hello Zatanna, how's it been going? This whole team thing seems to be pretty cool.." Remy said to the League member who let him in on Batman's Titans.
"Glad to hear you're enjoying it so far, business as usual in the League..." Zatanna responded noticing that Wildcat seemed to be quitting as the younger heroes' mentor.
After Starman directed El Sasquatcho to the nearest restrooms, Thom Kallor walked back into the lobby where the rest of the League and the Titans were still hanging out. Superman looked at the group and knew that Robin had the right idea. And the team really wasn't doing too bad. Two members have been injured, a few dropped out, Wonder Woman's Amazon sister had been brainwashed, but only Robin himself had lost his life. The League knew Batman would die to make the Titans better heroes if he had to. However it wouldn't come to that. Wildcat was still kind of off to the side. He was old news now that the big guns were around. Ted Grant still felt like his job as their mentor was a big failure. He gave Batman a nod, and Batman walked over to the elder hero who had even trained him at one point in his career.
"I can't do it anymore, Bats. My Gym is a wreck, these kids keep gettin' hurt no matter what I teach them... I need to face facts that my best days are behind me now." Grant said in his usual grizzly tone.
"Ted, I don't think..." Batman began before the elder hero cut him off.
"My minds made up. You want to see this thing through Batman, then YOU need to see it through. Tell the kid's I'm going back to Gotham. I'll use the teleporter on the third floor so I don't ruin the kids' time meeting your team..." Wildcat said walking off.
"I thought Leviathan was a composite being, you're just one kid!" Aquaman said approaching Levi.
"Somehow in our battle against the Court of Owls I became stuck like this, sir..." Levi began.
"Call me Arthur, please." Aquaman responded.
"Okay.. Arthur.." Levi said smiling, "Do you think somebody like Zatanna could help us out?"
"Batman has probably already asked. It sounds like something more for a biologist rather than someone who wields magic. She could do as much harm as good...
~KL~ | Secret ID: Robert Hall and Daniel Hall
Alias: Leviathan
Age: 19 and 15
Home Location: Metropolis
Powers: Through concentrated contact, the boys become a single giant human with increased strength, speed, stamina, and durability. In a nut shell, the composite being is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can tear a car apart with his bare hands. He can bench press well over a ton, and run a mile in just over three minutes. Both of the boys are adept swimmers, and as fast as Leviathan is on land he's just as fast in the water.
Weaknesses: When separated the boys are just your average athletic teenagers with no increased anything. The composite being Leviathan can only stay together for roughly an hour, the duration also depends on how well the boys work as one brain rather than two sides fighting against each other. If the Leviathan is hit with mental attacks he loses his form in no time at all.
Equipment: Any equipment or devices/objects the boys have on them becomes compromised when they combine to create Leviathan. Batman fitted each of the boys with a light armor reminiscent of a wet suit and upon becoming one being the suit 'completes itself' giving the young giant hero a little more durability.
Appearance:
Leviathan -
Personality: Robert is a little more loud and reckless; Daniel is a little smarter and quieter, Leviathan is stoic but often acts before thinking things through.
Password: What's this about a password?
BRIEF Bio: Robert and Daniel both lived in Metropolis with their grandmother. Several weeks back, while Superman was in a battle with Brainiac, one of the technological tyrant's experiments was released into the city. This 'exobyte' had the brothers merge into one larger being when they made contact running for safety. The two of them had no idea what to think, but it was clear to anyone who tried to talk to the giant man that the fellow was a man of two minds about everything. After Brainiac had been defeated and the first time the two brothers would 'go big' wore off they thought that life would go back to normal.
They couldn't have been more wrong. Days later, while the two boys waited in the car outside of the bank their grandmother was doing business in, a robbery began to go down. As soon as Daniel realized what was going on he told his brother they needed to go and make sure their grandma was safe. On a whim Daniel concentrated hard and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Seconds later the giant was born again. At the end of it all, the giant was met by Superman after putting the KO on the three armed robbers.
Another week would pass before Robin contacted the boys. Grayson wasn't the world's greatest detective, but he trained with one of the best for three years and quickly determined the giant was a composite being and reached out to them via social media. Like others, the first meeting with Robin in Gotham went south for the boys and the two could only watch as Multiplex and Deadshot made an example out of the first teenage superhero and former sidekick.
Notes: At some point later on we may meet other members of this universe's Justice League so that I can have a short moment between Leviathan and Aquaman.
Sample Post:
"These Multiplex goons are a handful. My brother and I aren't really cut out for this 'Teen Titans' thing after all. It takes concentration and skin to skin contact for us to become a giant, and if something doesn't happen soon Robin's not going to make it much longer. If only Robert would stop trying to fight those Multiplex guys two or three at a time we might be able to make contact and..." Daniel thought to himself while trying to break free of one of the Multiplex duplicates' grip that currently had him pinned up against a warehouse wall.
"These kids are beginning to annoy me..." Deadshot yelled out to his partners in crime as he shot a couple high powered rounds at the dog like creature that one of the kids transformed into taking it down for the time being.
"Should've just killed that ugly thing, Lawton..." one of the many Multiplexes commented.
"We were sent here to kill one person and to send a message. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME YOU LITTLE SUPERHERO WANNABES?" Deadshot yelled out a little louder than before, "KIDS SHOULDN'T WEAR COSTUMES."
Deadshot finally let the nearly lifeless and beaten body of Robin fall to the ground the rest of the way. He reloaded his wrist mounted 22 millimeter firearms and aimed one of them at the head of the bloody and bruised Robin. Under his mask he was closing his eyes. Killing kids is awful even to an assassin. Not even two seconds later and...
BANG! BANG BANG!
After a few more punches were thrown at the rookie heroes by all of the duplicates, they all merged back into the prime Multiplex as Deadshot watched seemingly in surprise.
"We better jet, 'Plex. There's no telling for certain when the Bat will come around looking for bird boy..." Deadshot suggested as they took off up an alleyway, now just the two of them.
~KL~ |
4,866 | 125 | 106 | 668 | 1,466 | She is doing well, I'll let her know you asked about her. You might want to step back away from the magic lasso before you start telling everyone about everything you know.
"What? Oh!" Archer basically jumped back a step, thoroughly embarrassed. The Lasso of Truth, of course, that would certainly explain a lot. He knew Wonder Woman was called the Spirit of Truth but he never guessed there was a literal reason for that. He got to wondering what else he might have blurted out had she not stopped him, and swallowed hard. He could very well have spilled the beans about what he was really doing after leaving the hospital and that definitely would have gotten him into no small amounts of trouble, especially with Batman.
He watched Grant start walking away, wanting to speak up again and try and talk him out of leaving. In spite of getting off to a rocky start with the elder hero, Archer still respected him greatly and was especially grateful he let them all use his gym. Instead Archer stayed quiet, feeling somewhat responsible for what happened to Gym. The owls tore it up quite a bit but Zero's little stunt with the sprinklers certainly didn't help it either.
At this point Archer's hands were jammed into his pockets. He had a feeling he should be asking questions or for advice or something, but instead he felt like a kid who was called in front of the class with no idea what he was being called for, "How... do you decide who you invite to join? We've just been sort of taking anyone we can find, but the Justice League clearly has a system of some sort in place." this was probably not the kind of question the League wanted to provide an answer to, so Archer decided to try changing the subject by addressing the Green Lantern, "I don't think I got the chance to thank the other Lantern for saving our butts before, so could you thank him for me next time you see him?" | Secret ID: Archer Graham
Alias: Zero
Age: 18
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: A textbook Cryomancer, Archer can "create" objects made of ice by lowering the temperature around him and using moisture in the air as his main source of ice. His ice-powers could very well run deeper than that, but if it does he has yet to discover it, having only just now began to get the hang of creating ice objects. The objects he creates are, more often than not, simple blunt weapons like bats and hammers, or basic stabbing weapons like knives and javelins. His cryomancy allows him near immunity to cold weather and other extreme cold temperatures, as well, meaning he could go on missions to the South Pole with no need to dress more warmly.
Weaknesses: His ice is almost exclusively reliant on some form of water source to work with. He can usually get by using moisture in the air, but should he find himself in, say, a burning building, then the lack of water in the air can handicap him unless he happens to have a jug of water to work with. He's also found that his powers work best so long as he remains well-hydrated, as a lack of hydration can weaken the amount of ice he can manipulate. Just as he is nearly immune to cold temperatures, the inverse is true of hot temperatures, though not to same extremes as the likes of Mister Freeze, since Archer can at least go out in warm weather with no threat to his life. Extremely hot environments, such as scorching deserts or a volcanic mountain on the other hand can leave him powerless to do anything until he is moved to a cooler location.
Equipment: Apart from the standard stuff, Batman has made sure that the material of Archer's suit has as much heat resistance as possible. It doesn't completely alleviate the problem with hot environments, but it certainly provides a considerable buffer between the heat and Archer's body.
Appearance
Personality: Archer is, for the most part, a good enough kid. If he sees a mugging on the street or even bullying at school, he won't hesitate to take it upon himself to stop said activity. After getting his powers, he's become even more brazen with these acts, becoming almost cocky. Lately, since Robin's death, Archer has begun second guessing himself more often, his previous confidence shattered by the death of his team leader. Regardless, he's determined to pick up the pieces and start over again, if for nothing else than for the memory of Robin.
Password: Titan
BRIEF Bio: Born in Gotham City, Archer used to be more timid when he smaller. The general danger of living in Gothom City can do that to a kid. Of course, Batman has since made the city much safer than it used to be. Batman's crusade against crime was inspirational, but it was the appearance of his partner, Robin, that really changed Archer's personality. After all, if a kid around his own age could be brave enough to take on corruption, than why shouldn't Archer himself do the same? Of course, he would never have actually fought crime, but he did finally start standing up to his bullies, protecting himself and other kids they picked on. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Once he was in High School, Archer's life changed again. It was during one of Mister Freeze's attempts to bring an Ice Age to Gotham. When the attack came, Archer was walking home from school, passing by a small chemical lab. Mister Freeze's sudden attack covered chunks of Gotham City into a Winter Wonderland, Archer's location included. But in the midst of bombardment of cold, some barrels of discarded chemicals burst open, and their contents splashed all over Archer before the freeze blast briefly froze him. Emphasis on "brief" because within moments, Archer was able break himself free, discovering that he didn't feel any of the cold at all, despite the lack of winter clothes. From there he discovered he could manipulate the moisture in the air and freeze it into ice shapes.
Robin found him not long after that. The Boy Wonder explained that he was planning to start a team called the Teen Titans, and that Archer with his powers would make an excellent addition. It was practically a dream come true, and Archer joined without a second thought. He had no idea just what fate had in store. Soon after that was when Deadshot and Multiplex attacked. The team escaped, though not without casualty. Robin was dead. Robin, one of the first teen superheroes ever to done a cape, and student of the freaking Batman no less. Archer was shaken, to be sure, and even briefly considered giving up the notion of saving people. But then, he received the message, a text on his phone that led him to a gym where Batman and Wildcat were waiting. If fate saw fit to provide Archer a second chance, then it would have been a disservice to the memory of Robin to not accept the offer.
It was a normal enough day as Archer walked home from school. Huh, school. Not too long ago, his grades would have been the most important thing in his world. Not anymore, though, not by a long shot. His world completely changed on the day he got his powers. Now things like school felt completely pointless, but even so he had to keep up appearances, so he continued going. His grades took a hit, though, his new-found night life offered very little in the way of free time that, previously, would have been used for homework and the like. Still, he at least managed to maintain a passing grade so he wouldn't flunk.
As he walked, he heard sounds coming from an upcoming alleyway. It sounded like shouting of some sort. Archer ran ahead, stopping to press himself against the building corner. He peeked around and saw a man standing behind another man, appearing to gesture at him while the other had his hands up. A mugging if Archer ever saw one. In Gotham City such a thing was sadly very common. But not today, that mugger picked the wrong alley on the wrong day to commit this crime. Archer ducked into a crawlspace behind a dumpster. There, he removed the top layer of his clothes, revealing a black suit underneath. He'd taken to wearing it under his normal clothes whenever he could, so changing personas was quick and easy affair most of the time. He retrieved his belt and mask from his backpack, put them on, then made his presence known. Well, not after throwing a baseball made of ice at the mugger's hand, knocking the pistol from his grip.
"Wrong alley, wrong day, pal." said Archer as he leaped from his hiding spot and landed an ice-covered punch across the mugger's jaw. At that point it became as easy as trapping the man's hands and feet against the pavement with ice while his intended victim ran away shouting a thanks to Zero, the costumed meta that just saved him, "Guess I'm done here. Why don't you just chill out here a while until the cops show up?" he said before walking away. Oh yeah, he knew his little pun was a terrible one, but hey, at least it was one of the bad guys that had to suffer through it this time. |
4,867 | 125 | 107 | 2,170 | 1,634 | This place was a marvel. Ordinarily a basic, semi-private enclosure, restrooms (which, in El Sasquatcho's mind, was a stupid name; surely people didn't come in here to rest) the Watchtower Lavatory was a thing of nigh cinematic epicness. Designed to withstand the ravages of super powered Aces and Deuces, it gave no signs of the usual difficulties the Indomitable El Sasquatcho ran into in standard, mortal water closets. Quite the contrary, it appeared to be quite accommodating.
Blissfully so, in fact.
"Hey team!" he called loudly from his perch in more private environs, not caring whether anyone could or could not hear him, "The Watchtower crapper is fantástico! You must try this! It's like taking a dump, but in ESPACIO! Guys?"
"...guys...?"
"Anybody? How do you use the three seashells?"
"...Señor Wildcat?" | Ladies and Gentlemen, making his first public appearance, I give you the testosterone-based, masked fury of ...El Sasquatcho!
Secret ID: Hector Delacruz
Alias: El Sasquatcho
Age: 19
Home Location: Gotham
Powers: Heightened Strength, Heightened Durability, Probability Manipulation
Strength – Human maximum and somewhat beyond, he is capable of lifting and moving up to 400 lbs without difficulty. Past this point, effort is required. If straining, to the exclusion of all other activity, he can full body press approximately one ton. His strength allows him to flip over a car by himself, but not throw it.
Durability – El Sasquatcho is physically very durable, due in no small part to his dense body mass. This gives him naturally occurring protection similar to that of a standard flak jacket. It is not accurate to say that he is bulletproof, but he is damage resistant. This does not affect his physical stamina, that while impressive, falls within normal human range.
Probability Manpiulation – Simultaneously his greatest and least reliable power, he is uncannily lucky. If he needs a few bucks to tide him over until payday, he will find a twenty on the ground. While bending over to pick up the money, he will unwittingly dodge a stray bullet from a clash across the park. The stray bullet will warn him of a charging (but strangely silent) rhinoceros demon, who will then slip on a stray banana peel before reaching him. El Sasquatcho is not reliably able to consciously use this power – it appears to manifest during times of stress. Or time of need. Or randomly. Or whenever the GM says it does. Eventually, he may be able to use this power at will, but that is a long way off. Until then, he is just considered to be a lucky, lucky bastard.
Weaknesses: Honorbound - Luchador code demands certain actions and limitations from him, described below.
Equipment: Naught but his rippling biceps and spandexed thighs of justice.
Appearance: El Sasquatcho is a masked Luchador. He is tall, broad, and overly possessed of very masculine body hair, hence his superhero identity. Now prior to his affiliation with the Titans, he is garbed in big black boots, rough carpenter’s jeans, and a closefitting t-shirt (usually black, sometimes a band shirt). Cooler days see him in a leather composite leather jacket. When heroing, he wears his one quality possession: A custom Lucha mask, brown and black, with intricate styling that makes it resemble a dark colored sugar skull. The mask does not impede his ability to breathe nor perceive the world around him, and is like a second skin.
His “working gear”, as it were, is similar in form to Batman’s. It is an ergonomically articulated combat armor, designed for maximum protection and flexibility. Color is matte black with brown accents. Trauma plates protect vital areas, and can also be found in his mask, tactical boots, and gloves. These plates give him an extra bit of oomph when attacking with his extremities. Armor does not cover his arms, mostly because he thinks it looks cooler this way. Coupled with his Heightened Durability, he's quite the agile tank.
He will, as needed, wear a standard cloth long coat over his armor. It can be torn away for dramatic effect, or merely blow about heroically in the wind.
El Sasquatcho’s headgear is an exact duplicate of his Luchador mask, with audio comm options and a voice scrambler/augmenter (for anonymity and making very impressive entrances)
His tactical boots contain compartments for the storage of small items, and more impressively, infrasound generators able to broadcast a wide range of pulses too low for humans to hear. The practical effect is a heightened sense of anxiety in those around him; the impractical effect being that every Bigfoot, Sasquatch, or Timber Ape within a 10 mile radius will be summoned to his position. Unless they’re not real. Then no dice.
Wait, don’t whales use infrasound?
Personality: Hector is a well-meaning, decent kid, whose unfortunate downfall is his arrogance. Raw physical strength (superior to an unmodified human) coupled with his uncanny luck (subconscious probability manipulation) have made him somewhat reckless and overconfident. Hopefully his new mentor can beat some common sense and humility into him.
The relationship Hector has with his persona as is a little complicated. He thinks of himself more as El Sasquatcho than Hector Delacruz, considering his legal name and legal life the half that he only pretends to be when necessary. He respects his family name, giving honor to his ancestors, but does not speak of them much. He is El Sasquatcho, Blood of El Santo, which he will discuss with any who will listen at great length.
Password: Gnarkk
BRIEF Bio: Originally part of a touring Lucha Libre troupe, El Sasquatcho grew up steeped in the culture and traveling lifestyle. This life ended years ago during a tour in Gotham, when an unaffiliated masked Luchador interrupted the performance, he and his group killing many. A young teenager at the time, the shock of the events caused his abilities to express, narrowly allowing his survival. As his entire family was dead or missing, Hector was placed into Gotham City foster care services.
He was a B student in the Gotham public school system, but was unable to finalize his Luchador training proper. What he had learned so far, however, brought him a long way with the wrestling and gymnastics teams, where he quickly became the star performer for both groups. He even had a dalliance as one of the Gotham High Mascots for home games. Go Wildcats.
While trying to keep his skills sharp and his grades up, he never lost his original goal. Hector remains watchful for an opportunity to avenge the deaths of his family and fellow Luchadores. As soon as he became a legal adult, he adopted his persona and became a vigilante, hoping one day to run into the masked stranger that destroyed his world. He has a challenge to issue.
Constantly refers to himself in the third person, as his hero identity.
El Sasquatcho constructed and maintains his Lucha mask – he’s actually quite good at the craft.
Almost stereotypically, drives a rebuilt El Camino. It’s in good shape; factory standard vehicle.
Speaks Spanish, English, and an odd dialect of Transient Gypsy Spanglish barely recognizable to those who speak either Spanish or English.
El Sasquatcho bowls overhanded.
He sings. He can’t; he shouldn’t. Yet sadly, he does. Mariachi Opera or Mexican Folk Metal, anyone?
Unless stealth is absolutely required, El Sasquatcho insists on screaming challenges or battle cries before engaging in melee. This can be as simple as “LUCHA!!!” or can be much more elaborate.
Honor above all other things.
Perform no act that would be seen as dishonorable to your mask, family, or title.
Taking from the weaker is forbidden.
Do not kill without first issuing a challenge.
Killing in cold blood is forbidden.
The street toughs approached from the shadows around him, obviously thinking him an easy mark. The young man, moderately under the influence of the illegally obtained bottle of Mescal in his left hand, seemed an easy target. Slurring his words slightly, he addressed his would-be attackers.
"No, no. El Sasquatcho does not have time for this; he is needed elsewhere. Run away before El Sasquatcho renders you incapable of doing so voluntarily, sirs."
The advice lay unheeded, tossed to the ground by the collective chuckles of the thugs. They rushed him; two head on and one moving to flank. The intoxicated youth sighed. He really did have somewhere to be, and he didn't want to risk ripping his new Pollo Negro band shirt on the teeth of some prick from the neighborhood.
Shaking his head, he tossed his bottle high into the air, and braced for the oncoming attack.
The attacker coming from the side got to him first, grabbing him by his shoulder and neck. It was a particularly inept choke hold attempt, one easily countered by the stronger, more experienced youth. Manipulating his attacker into an impressive airplane spin, El Sasquatcho hurled him into one of the very surprised assailants at his fore. Body connected solidly with body, a hollow smacking sound issuing from the sudden meeting of torso to torso, briefly interrupting the Mexican opera inexpertly spilling from the hurler.
The alcohol has taken its toll, however, allowing the inertia of the spin and throw to pitch him forward. He slipped and fell into a puddle of dirty water (God he hoped it was water), coincidentally moving him out of the path of a thrown knife from his third adversary. El Sasquatcho rolled to his back, just in time to see the knife-thrower standing above him, another weapon at the ready. He taunted the prone hero, "Got anything else to say, dead bitch?"
El Sasquatcho smiled. "Yeah. Waste of good booze."
"What?" issued the confused reply.
The bottle of Mescal, now almost done with the earthward half of its short journey, turned and tumbled closer to the cranium of the standing street thug, picking up velocity with each twirling nanosecond. The explosion of glass and stinging spirits from their inevitable attempt to share the same space at the same time (directly in opposition to the generally accepted laws pf physics) was quite impressive. Kind of pretty, from El Sasquatcho's perspective on the wet ground.
Threat handled, the young hero turned to one side, giggled profusely, and emptied the contents of his stomach; retching into the apathetic night.
Bad night. Very bad night.
The name of El Sasquatcho was not yet spoken of in hushed whispers among the seedy underworld of Gotham City, and yet already he was receiving fan mail.
No, wait. This was better. An invitation from one of the greats: Robin, associate of Senor Batman himself! And he wanted to meet the soon-to-be-famous El Sasquatcho! All of his hard work and street patrols were about to pay off, bigtime.
That was the plan, at least. Bad night.
...the first gunshots rang out long before he could get to the docks. His saving grace, ironically a mundane issue, was traffic. He was delayed by a matter of two minutes - otherwise those shots might have been meant for him. El Sasquatcho managed to arrive just in time to see the broken body of one of his personal heroes drop to the ground, his head rebounding lifelessly and clunking back down again. The poor bastard was only identifiable as Robin because of his uniform; facial features were lost in a jumble of blood and damaged bone.
Something broke inside of El Sasquatcho, a feeling of fear and rage and hopelessness he had only felt once before, years ago. He broke into a run, intent on beating his assailants into so much warm salsa with his bare hands. He bounded into the fight, caring not who saw nor heard him, paying little attention to the others in the fray. Nearing the first person he percieved as an enemy, his voice boomed forth in righteous indignation.
"Sangre de El Santo!"
His fist connected solidly, striking the neck of a man wearing a lightly glowing bodysuit. The man stumbled forward, but kept his footing and looked back at El Sasquatcho.
This could not be. A full hit at that point of impact would have laid out any normal person. He must be dealing with a Meta, like himself. He had not the time to process, as he was very rapidly grabbed from behind by another man, seemingly wearing the same glowing bodysuit as the one in front of him. El Sasquatcho was able to begin the counter relatively easily, until his dance partner forced his full strength upon him.
He was strong, possibly stronger than himself. El Sasquatcho had not expected this. Stupidly, he rushed in, relying on emotion and raw luck to see him to victory. He underestimated his opponents, even after seeing the Boy Wonder go down like a drunken prom date.
Grappling though he was, he caught snatches of sight at his surroundings. Others were there, too, held back by more copies of the man now attacking him. In the center of the dock, another man (different this time) took to abusing the unconscious or dead Robin at his leisure. Making him watch. Making all of them watch.
He was finally able to break free from his attacker's grasp, and picked him high above his head, intending to bring him down upon his knee. The blow failed as yet another copy plowed into his side with truck-stopping force, knocking El Sasquatcho to the ground and driving the air from his lungs. The man in the center paused his savage act for just a moment, looking over to the newcomer and the trouble he caused. The moment froze.
The next thing El Sasquatcho knew, he was semi-conscious and being hurled into the sea. He skipped like a stone twice before nailing a buoy, an arm getting caught in the metal framework. Had it not, he likely would have slipped beneath the waves and drowned before he had a chance to recover.
...Unsure how long he had been out, he made his way back to the dock from where he was thrown. Things were quiet now, except for the wordless sobbing of those present. They stood in a circle around the fallen Hero. El Sasquatcho added his tears to the rest, undramatically slumping to his knees and bowing his head. The grief and shame of those present was palpable.
"Dama Muerte, he is deserving of you..."
It was then the scene darkened, overshadowed by the silhouette of a familiar cape and cowl. |
4,868 | 126 | 0 | 668 | 1,466 | Fragments of Hope
It was a chilly morning in Gerudo Valley. Most people tended to assume that a desert was scorching hot at all times. Well, most of those people were ones who have never actually been to one. Deserts were very much cold at night, and the Gerudo Valley was no exception. The previous cold night was close to its end, however, as the faint light of the dawning sun could be seen peeking over the horizon, about to rise in full and signal the morning of a new day. Just past the entrance of the Valley, a traveled path made its way through the Gerudo Fortress, and then out onto the desert itself. Three wagons rolled along this path, each one pulled by a pair of horses. It was a supply team, nothing out of the ordinary. They had just entered Gerudo Valley by way of the path that led to the northwestern exit of Hyrule Field. The normal road was too dangerous to travel on these days, and so the route this team took was a slightly different path, one that was built along the cliff overlooking the river that flowed from Lake Hylia and accessed by a secret tunnel that, so far, remained undiscovered by Ganondorf.
The supply convey, if it was large enough to even be called one, was bringing some much needed lumber to Oasis. The great thing about setting up base out in the desert was some natural protection and remaining hidden due to the remote location, but it came the cost of being in a locale that offered little in the way of trees for wood and lumber. And so wood ended up being the most commonly imported commodity for Oasis, with it in return offering resistance fighters to help defend other areas or the occasional team of Sheikah agents to perform special operations. This convey, true to its size, had only a minimal escort of about a dozen or so guards, anyone else with the wagons were simple employees, working with the owner of the wagons and lumber being delivered, a Business Scrub who was riding one of the wagons while going over some papers, likely contracts of some kind or a shipment manifesto. They were about to reach the entrance of Gerudo Fortress and it was quiet... too quiet. The Hylian guards, many of whom were hired mercenaries, looked up in startled amazement when they heard the cry of a horn and then hastily ready themselves for a fight. Within moments nearly two dozen Moblins, led by a Lizalfos commander, were charging into Gerudo Valley aiming for the covney's flank.
Meanwhile, on one of the walls of the Gerudo Fortress, a Gerudo woman spotted the incoming battle in the distance and made a dash for one of the wall's signal torches, hurriedly lighting it. This started a chain reaction of other signal torches being lit around the Gerudo Fortress, alerting everyone inside to the emergency. The troops manning the Gerudo fortress were a well-trained group, but unfortunately many of them were away on other assignments, so they couldn't help the convey without first receiving reinforcements. Thankfully, a lone Sheikah agent was assigned to the Gerudo Fortress to give them a means of swift communication, and the agent went to it like clockwork. The Sheikah looked to the sky and gave a peculiar whistle, one that sounded impeccably like the cry of a hawk. From the sky, a hawk fluttered down and perched itself on the Sheikah's arm, the agent then tying a tiny scroll to its leg and then releasing it to sky once more. Oasis may have been out in the desert, but a well-trained hawk could make the flight in minutes.
In Oasis, people were just beginning to start their morning routines. It didn't seem like anything exciting or out of the ordinary would happen today. That all changed when the outpost's resident Sheikah agent heard the cry of a messenger hawk, and he raced to retrieve it. After a glance at the scroll, the agent silently put the hawk in a coop so as to keep it handy for an eventual response. He made his way to Resistance HQ, where one of the leaders was beginning his morning rounds. At the sight of the agent, the man sighed with exasperation, as if he somehow already knew this would be bad news. Sure enough, he took the scroll and read it, then gave a particular, "Round up a contingent and get them to Gerudo Fortress. It's bad enough a supply team is under attack, the last thing we need is for them to suddenly have the guts to attack the Fortress along with it." | Fair enough, the Spin Attack was never particularly OP anyway, the Firebrand was my main concern. Honestly you can obtain/relearn that at a later point in the RP as an upgrade. Accepted, but quick question: did he leave Oasis, or simply read what few books and scrolls Oasis had to offer when investigating Fragment? Having most or all the PC's starting in or around Oasis would be the most optimal way to begin the RP with my current set of plans.
Also, just a notification, I updated the OP post a bit. Namely I added a couple more names to the NPC list:
1. Zalam, leader of the River Tribe and a secondary villain for the story.
2. Link the Goron, Darunia's son from the game and the current leader of the Gorons in Oasis.
3. Veila, Nabooru's second-in-command and acting leader of the Gerudo in her absence.
Also changed all the uses of "Zora Hall" to "Zora's Domain" because the first time I wrote all that up I massively brain farted and them mixed up. Zora Hall is from Majora's Mask, while Zora's Domain is what it's called in Ocarina. |
4,869 | 126 | 1 | 2,786 | 800 | Castle Town
The Temple of Time
Inside the Dark World
If the Goddesses had ever intended a place of punishment for those who disobeyed them, this must be it.
Trees with twisted faces watched a battle that raged eternally. All manner of demon and monstrosity gathered here, fighting their fellows for the privilege of another step forward. Some were desperate to escape this wasteland, this place where it was always dark and there was only pain and suffering. Some simply wished to join the side of their master, the dark king who had created this place and summoned them here. And there was one who fought to escape, because that very king must fall. Fall at his hands. It was all he could think about--all that had driven him for years. Seven long years.
Blood had long since turned the ground to mud, and the constant churn of bodies buried those who had fallen beneath. A choking, noxious stench filled the air, for so thick was the melee that no carrion creature could pull away the corpses. A cold wind howled all around them, filled with screams and roars. The clouds above, pregnant with liquid fury, rumbled in response. Lightning struck somewhere, frying some hideous creature until its mottled hide was charred black and its blood sizzled. Thunder echoed just seconds after, a rolling boom that shook the battlefield.
And yet, for those who survived, for those who crushed all that stood in their way, who took that final step; salvation lay ahead. A golden circle in the air, filled with warm, beckoning light, showing glimpses of a world so much brighter. A starker contrast to the shadows of this world could not be found.
In the middle of it all, the Knight fought.
A weakened foe's blow pinged off his armor, and he caught the gnarled creature by the throat and shook it til its breath was no more. He hurled the carcass backwards, to stave off those that followed him. He lunged forward, shouldering past a one eyed behemoth. The cyclops gave a bellow and reached down, its meaty hand enveloping the armored interloper's head. It lifted him clear of the ground, ready to crush his skull...but the Knight dug the clawed fingers of his gauntlets into the two middle fingers of the hand that held him, and twisted both arms violently.Chunks of flesh came free in his grasp, trailing blood, and the cyclops's bellow was now one of pain as the knight dropped to the ground. Turning, one arm lashing out, the Knight's claws tore open the monster's belly and spilled its innards to the muck. He grabbed the beast’s leg and hauled against it with all his strength, roaring his rage. The Cyclops toppled, and was pounced upon by those behind it searching for easy prey. Again the Knight stepped forward.
The golden light of the portal pushed back the shadows here. The melee grew ever more intense as their goal neared--for these creatures, leaving this wretched world was a matter of life and death. To stay in this maddening realm for even another moment was hell. They fought tooth and nail to be the next one through, a struggle that never ended. And yet, this was not the worst of this world; for there were those that had reveled in this darkness, thrived in it and made it their own. But the Knight, though the darkness consumed him, was not one of these. His desire for the other world drove him another step forward.
A fallen foe's weapon became his own, until the ferocity of his blows broke it to pieces. A corpse became a shield until its bones were shattered and its flesh torn asunder. A vicious punch crushed a pig-like snout and made the blood flow in twin rivers down its face. A roar deafened the creatures as they were barreled through, tossed in every direction as if by a raging storm.
The portal floated before him. The path was clear for only a moment. In his right hand, though his grip was empty, a golden flash of light gave him the Courage to take that next step.
The Knight stepped into the Light. | Name:
???; "The Knight"
Age:
Mid-twenties
Gender:
Male
Race:
Hylian
Appearance:
The Knight(The drawing is my own, please do not steal) once wore bright armor and a tabard bearing the colors and sigil of the Royal Family. There were once a mantle and cape to gracefully done his shoulders, and once a half skirt to make his movements appear smooth and flowing and give an air of regality. Once, he bore a youthful exuberance and a disciplined posture.
Now his armor has been blackened and twisted, cruel spikes rising from the metal on his arms and helm. The cape, mantle, and skirt have been ripped asunder, mail has cracked. Though the plate steel still holds a dull luster, and though the crest of Hyrule is still engraved upon his cuirass, none could ever think this bestial knight, whose gauntlets have turned to claws and who moves with a feral crouch where once he stood proud, to be anything but a monster. The red, unnatural glow from beneath his visor has lost its dignity, and become an ever growing furnace of rage.
Personality:
The Knight is ruled by two things: Rage, and the Code of Chivalry. Which one rules at any one moment is a hazardous guess at best.
Devoted to the destruction of Ganon and anything that stems from him, the knight will howl, snarl, and single-mindedly destroy until he reaches his goals. He still knows the meaning of retreat, though it must always be from necessity, never from fear. He lacks true tactical ability, but has a predator's instinct and cunning. Still, he would much rather openly challenge the forces of evil and bathe in their blood than he would slink like a wolf through the shadows. Outside of battle, the Knight often seems a blank canvas. He is still, almost tranquil, though he shivers as if in anticipation...or as if he can barely contain himself. Yet he seems to bring no harm to those he recognizes as allies...still, much like any wild animal, his actions are uncertain and often his purpose cannot be grasped by the rational mind.
Background:
Once the Knight was a man born to low nobility, to a line of proud--if not wealthy--warriors. Yet in training he showed both aptitude and zeal, and in time surpassed expectation and potential. A loyal and faithful servant of the crown, he won glory in the tournaments and fame on the field.
Yet all of that, save one last moment, has been forgotten. All of his former life now lies shrouded in shadows, and only the final memory before his transformation remains.
The Battle of Castle Town--the final stepping stone towards Ganondorf's ascent to godhood. The forest boy, in whom the Princess saw a Hero, entered the Temple of Time with three Sacred Treasures. He had accomplished great feats to attain them, and even if he were not the child of destiny already the land was beginning to sing his praises. Perhaps, had things played out differently, he too would have attained knighthood, and they would have fought as allies. Alas; the seal holding the Master Sword was undone. The child had proved his worth, and drawn the ancient blade. He became master of Evil's Bane, yet he was only a boy. And so he was whisked away by magics to a place unknown, and protected. The way to the Golden Realm now lay opened, and its golden, radiant light shone through a portal into a pristine realm.
Into that light, Ganondorf took his last steps as a mortal man. With the Gerudo King's treachery revealed, the Knights of Hyrule were assembled. But Ganondorf's followers were ready to meet them, and the city became a battleground. Though their princess had been seen safely away, Ganondorf had already begun to slay the soldiers as they sought to slow his pursuit. One of the Knight's friends died in a back alley, the last to see the boy in green before he took those fateful steps into the Temple of Time. In the battle that followed, where the knights set out to defend Castle Town as Ganondorf lay seige to it in order to follow the Hero into the Sacred Realm, the dark lord left fire and blood in his wake. He ascended the steps and entered the portal.
The Knight followed. He bled from a dozen wounds, and both sword and shield had shattered. Yet with trembling legs he climbed the stairs, his life's blood dying the velvet carpet a deeper shade. It was too late. From the realm of light, now only shadows poured forth. But Ganondorf still lay beyond. He could not rest until he had destroyed that foul creature. On his honor, on his pride, for the good of the realm, for the sake of the princess...even for the hope of the boy in green. The Knight stepped into the darkness.
Though he had always been a good and just man, in his heart lay the seeds of darkness. This was nothing, in and of itself--such a thing exists in all who tread the mortal coil. It does not define them. Yet those seeds had become coals in a white hot, seething fire called hatred. He hated Ganondorf. He hated the monsters whom had come to the dark one's aid. He hated his own weakness. The Dark World--the former Sacred Realm twisted by Ganondorf, now Ganon, and his influence--seized upon that hatred, that curling tendril of darkness inside him, and pulled it out. His body was torn asunder, then sewn back together. He was twisted, and blackened by the flames of his own fury. Split between his knighthood and beasthood, his new form drove him mad. Still he would not give in; still he desired to find the King of Darkness, and destroy him.
For seven years, he treaded the shadows. For seven years, he fought among a landscape of tangled trees with gnarled faces, upon fallow, cursed soil. He fought with all manner of monsters, who had once been men. He overcame trials and challenges. Yet always, always in the darkness, always in the shadows, groping and crawling and clawing his way forward. Until he found the light.
How had it come to him? How had it passed through this place, uncorrupted? He could not know, or even wonder. All he could do was reach for the light, grasp it, and feel Courage flow into him. It brought with it the scent of the forest, just like the child in green...but also blood, and the unmistakable pang of parting with a dear and treasured friend.
The Knight rose yet again, and with Courage lighting his way, he began to fight his way back along the paths hidden in the shadows...
Skills:
Knight's Training: The Knight is highly efficient in all the standard training regiments of Hyrule's Royal Army. This includes certain special skills such as the Ending Blow.
Weapon Skills: In addition to the standard martial arms trained by the Knights of Hyrule, in his previous life the Knight also practiced with less common weapons such as axes and flails.
Proficient in Armor: The Knight has been trained to run, fight, and even mount a horse while in armor, and his gear is specific to his measurements. It doesn't impede his movement nearly as much as it might another.
Magic:
None Yet
Gear:
Plate Armor: Like all true knights, this armor was made specifically to the wearer's measurements and preferences, and despite the myths of "clunky and slow" armor it has as much range of motion as the body inside it. It weighs roughly 25 kilograms, and consists of various plate pieces over thick underclothes, with some chainmail covering the most exposed places. The fittings are of supple leather and adjustable buckles, while other leather bits in the joints are of thicker stuff that can still absorb blows and hold back blades.
Weaknesses:
Madness - The Knight, though he is still guided by what little memories of his former life and his strong spirit that remains, is indeed truly berserk. His behavior, even among allies, is highly unpredictable and he cannot be counted on as anything more than a body on the battlefield.
Inability to Speak - The Knight's mind is so fractured that he cannot form coherent communication, and he must rely on body language and gestures.
Obsession - The Knight will take any opportunity that presents itself to attack Ganon or his forces, regardless of strategic significance. He will only retreat under the threat of death, and even then only to give his wounds the minimal treatment before charging back into the fray.
Cannot Swim - The Knight seems unable to completely remove his armor, and thus sinks like a stone in water. |
4,870 | 126 | 2 | 2,421 | 572 | ETZO
Etzo groaned as he made his way along the streets of Oasis, head pounding as the remenants of the previous night of drinking brought lance after agonizing lance of pain screeching through his rather impressive head, cursing that he had once more forgoten put together a cure for hangovers, the thought always coming to late, and soon replaced by more...exotic concepts. At least the night had been somewhat productive. The scrawny Hylian grinned as he fished the strange ivory trinket out of his pocket, a decidedly thick molar held between his thumb and forefinger.
Somehow, in one of his many stops along a particularly determined bar crawl, he had happened upon a bar right in mid-brawl. He would have been happy to leave it be, but luck had been with him as he watched one of the few Goron inhabiting the town take a rather solid blow from a thick chair to his jaw, looseing the tooth into the fray. He chuckled as he remebered the frenzied crawl to grab the rare find, dozens of ideas for such item springing to his mind, a faint warm feeling enveloping him, though wether it had been the fragment acting up or the previous drinks, he couldn't rightly say.
Etzo was sharply brought back to the present as one of the many bruises gained from rushing into a brawl made their distaste at his laughing known, ribs aching slightly. Sighing once more, he replaced the tooth back into one of the many folds of his robes, hand returning with a sheaf of slightly stained paper, the manifesto for projected ingredients needed in the coming weeks, as well as a few hopeful requests for more exotic items. The haggard alchemist doubted he'd get most of them, indeed most had already been rejected before, but Etzo was nothing if not persistent.
Adjusting his glasses and trying to beat out a few of the stains and dust from his robes, the dishelved alchemist shuffled through the doors to the HQ of the resistance, manifesto held forward with the same zeal a priest may present his faith, knowing if he didn't get these approved before the wagons arrived, he could be looking at weeks before he could request to refresh his reserves.
"Now I know that things are hectic, but we are sorely in need of some deku leaves," he said as he entered the main room, not talking to anyone in particular rather than announcing himself to whomever might listen, "or we could be looking at a rather depressing drop in potions for our skirmishers, and I know we've discussed the dangers of bringing in a live peahat but," he paused as he awaited the by now expected rebuttals, the distant look on his face disappearing as he realized no one was paying attention to him, adjusting his glasses once more as he took in the scene, preparation seeming to be coming together, with the words attack and supply team floating through the room.
The thought of his supplies being placed in danger brought on a short wave of anxiety, before searching out the man currently in charge of the situation, a look of curoisity flavoring the distant smile that usually plasters his face,"I don't suppose this is simply to greet the wagons coming here, that lack I potions I was mentioning earlier will be in much greater peril if I cant replinsh my stores,"he told the man, trying to hide the true depths of his worry. Etzo had in all actuality bribed the merchants to bring him a few live bubbles, and it'd be such a shame to have it all be for naught. | Name:Etzo
Age:27
Gender:Male
Race:Hylian
Personality: A bit of a scatter brain, Etzo can often leave others in the dust as he jumps from topic to topic, often seeming to have little connection from one to the next. While he can easily lose track of what someone is trying to talk to him about, he rarely seems bothered by this, an easy smile on his face. Many people initially believe him to be an airhead, though he usually is simply distracted by a whirlwind of ideas that race through his mind. However, when brewing, researching, or raining chemicals and bombs on the enemy, Etzo takes on a rather manic manner, the normally easy going Alchemist going a mile a minute.
Background: Etzo had always believed he would live a shut in life, having been born in Kakariko village, growing up there, and finally becoming apprenticed to the potion brewer who live there . Days passed as he spent his time alternating between stocking the shelves and constantly surrounding himself in massive piles of books and failed experiments.
He found little changed to his daily life as Ganondorf waged his war, the only divergence being an increase in his time making supplies for his mentor as the refugees seemed to flood the town. While he was aware that the war continued beyond his village, as long as it didn't interrupt his research he could care less. Leave the heroics to the adventurers.
Unfortunately he had little choice in the matter, fate deeming he join the fray regardless of wether he wished it or not. Shortly after tell of the Hero and Zelda's fall, a simpe task of gathering mushrooms for brewing from the village's cemetery changed the young rookie alchemists path, finding a strange golden fragment laying in the soft earth of the grave of The Composer Brothers. Seemingly as soon as he touched it, the Fragment of Wisdom merged with Etzo, and suddenly the charts and graphs listing his many failed concoctions made him almost laugh. So many a night spent toiling, and now the answers seemed so embarrasingly simple. The next few days seemed to blur, the doors to his home shut to all as strange lights and smells eked out of the houses shutters and chimney.
It was only as the door to his Home began to crack did he hear the screams as the first wave of Gannondorf's forces by sheer strength a town that had stood for 7 years in the face of the growing tyrant. His body seemed to move of its own accord, mixing chemicals as quicker than the moblins soilders could break the door.
Finally as they brought the door down, they found a scrawny Hylian with a manic gaze staring down the pig like creatures. Drinking a glowing yellow liquid he couldn't remeber making, time suddenly slowed to a crawl as he watched the moblins gather themselves and continue into the house. Ducking behind one of the many massive iron pots for brewing he had, Etzo tossed a pair of bubbling vials towards the group, closing his eyes and covering his ears in preperation. After a cacophony of sound and light emitted from the home, a few moments passed before the manic brewer stepped out, the tail of his robes smoking and charred.
While most of that night after is a blurred mix of screaming, burning and explosions; some his and others from diffrent sources, the last thing he remebers is finding himself being loaded into a cart by leaving the village, one of the last to leave for Oasis.
Since arriving at the Resistance, Etzo has found it quite easy to make himself useful, sending cauldrons of healing and magic potions with the troops as they skirmish with Gannondorf's troops. His housing has since been separated slightly from most other residences, in order to avoid collateral damage. He can either be found taking down a list for needed supplies, tinkering with the next Revelation for the Revolution, or down at the bars getting wasted.
Skills:
-Archery: While he'd rather be chucking bombs, Etzo is a decent hand at throwing bolts at the enemies, having taken a few runs at the archery courses the women of the Gerudo tribe have set up since moving to Oasis.
-Healthcare: In an effort to avoid wasting resources, Etzo has some basic treatment skills, able to handle most non-life threating wounds on the field.
-Knowledge of Fauna and Flora: Research into the various uses of plants and animals for brewing purposes has at least in theory made him familiar with most of the denizens of Hyrule.
Magic:
-Alchemy: From his training back in Kakariko village, Etzo has a handy grasp on the chemistry behind simple healing potions, as well as magic potions for those that can make use of them. Aside from the old favorites, he is constant finding new effects to try out on the troops.
Aside from potions, he is well versed in putting together various explosives, lately becoming something of a demolitions expert during the war. He believes he could even make elemental explosions, though a lack of resources has made this only theory for the moment.
Gear:
-Bandolier: Leather strap across his chest holds a myriad of concoctions, all labeled in chicken scratch than few besides himself can discern.
-Portable Alchemy Kit: While he won't be making any miracle concoctions out in the the field, Etzo can throw together a decent healing salve with the right supplies, or a simple bomb if need be.
-Empty Bottles: For all your potion holding needs, also good for holding interesting specimen found in the field. Rumor says with enough skill, one could use them to turn evils own power against them.
-Large Bomb Bag: Where else is an alchemist supposed to keep his explosives.
-Heavy Crossbow: fitted to fire bolts in most cases, Etzo has designed a launching mechanism to send various concoctions at enemies. It's quiver holds about 20-25 bolts.
-Light Armor:While in battle Etzo fits himself an under layer of hardened sectioned leather, mostly focused in vital areas such as the chest and other areas.
-Backpack: Large pack made to safely hold all the various materials an alchemist on the go.
-100ft of Rope: What can't you use rope for.
-Wallet: For when you get tired of showing off your Rupees.
Weaknesses:
-Lack of Martial Training: While Etzo understands the theory of many martial skills, he'd had little training in these regards. While he can buff himself up with various concoctions, this is only a temporary and risky alternative to actual training.
-Absent Minded: The constant rush of theorys and fascination with new things makes Etzo rather open to suprises, often when not on gaurd rarely aware of people until they have made themselves apparent...multiple times.
-Low Alcohol Tolerance: Etzo is something of a light weight when it comes to drinking, which wouldn't be a problem, except if he isn't brewing, doing research, or within throwing range of a battle, he's more than likely at the nearest pub. |
4,871 | 126 | 3 | 1,180 | 1,981 | Yuri
Oasis
Early Morning
A slight yawn escaped Yuri's mouth as she awoke from her slumber. Though she was brought an odd dream last night, she slept soundly and awoke refreshed and ready. This was probably because almost as soon as she had reached the town, she settled down at an inn for the night. For a rebel town, the place was surprisingly decent, if a bit pricey. Not as good as a Deku inn, obviously, but they were in wartimes. As soon as she got in, she ate a meal, and tried to place her things in a secure place so as to not have them stolen. This was a new town after all, and she had no idea if there were thieves.
Now, she would reclaim them. After a quick check up, she was relieved to find it all in the same place. She donned her chainmail shirt and merchant's robes, and stashed a small amount of merchandise and wares in the many pockets in it. She also grabbed her wallet, full of a decent amount of rupees, but sure to be even fuller soon. She also briefly debated bringing her weaponry, and decided it was a good idea to do so. Her boomerang and blade also were placed in her robes, in easy to reach locations.
She exited the inn in a lackadaisical fashion. The day was young after all. Other people too, were just beginning to start their jobs as well, walking around with a slight grogginess to them. Yuri, eager to see any ways she could pawn her rock, walked up to a gerudo. She was going to ask them where to find an auction house, but a better idea popped into her head right before she did so.
"Where would one find the Resistance headquarters?" She asked the woman. The gerudo pointed north, and began giving instructions. North up the road until the second road on the left, third alley on the left, it would be the first thing she saw. Yuri tried to remember the memorise the directions with a cute little mnemonic device. "23 is number 1..." She mumbled as she walked down the road. The resistance would definitely be willing to pay more for this gem than some hoity toity rich guy. Put this in the hands of a capable warrior and the war was pretty much done.
The deku walked into the building, it's doors already open as someone had recently entered. She walked up to the first guy in the room, whom she assumed would let her into the main room, and began talking to him. "Mmm, I assume you're part of the resistance sir?" She inquired. The hylian man began to speak, but she cut him off before he could answer. "Exactly. Then I believe I have JUST what you need sir." And she held up her hand to reveal the glowing mark. The Hylian man seemed astounded for a second, before simply saying she had better see someone more qualified, and pointing her to a door. The door was already open, and she could hear a familiar voice coming from it.
"Ah, Etzo, my favorite black market customer..." She began, with a hint of haughtiness in her voice. But she wasn't entirely lying there. He had made a lot of purchases from her; more than anyone else in the Kokiri village. Even if his purchases and requests were odd, he did pay well. She honestly thought he had died in the Kokiri Massacre, and so a smile was brought to her face when she walked up to him. "Making poisons for the Resistance now? Kekeke, it seems to fit you pretty well." She laughed. After that, she switched gears. "Sorry I don't have any Lizalfos spleens to sell you today, I'm making a big deal. Any idea where one would be able to sell incredibly powerful weapons of war to the rebellion?" | Name: Yuri
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Deku
Personality: A sly and cunning woman, always looking for somebody to swindle or force into a purchase. She is a natural risk taker. She does not trust people, and likes to appear mysterious to others. Despite this, she is surprisingly convincing, and is prone to bursts of emotion. She is frugal, understanding money's value and power. She is also kind of a loner, even if she speaks fairly frequently.
Likes
Money
Travel
Booze
Gambling
Dancing
Sweets
Dislikes
Smart people
Poor people
Kokiri
Water
Cuccos
Salty Foods
Background: Yuri has lived a fairly normal life. Even during the Seven Year War, the Deku people were safely hidden in the Lost Wood. Yuri was being groomed to be a proper Merchant, like her father before her, and his father before him. But business was different now. The roads were crowded with monsters and bandits were prominent. Yuri's father insisted on teaching his daughter self defense. He bought her a knife, and taught her how to use it. This proved to be a good idea.
News spread quickly of the Hero's return, even to the hidden Deku people. This brought much joy and hope to the Deku people that they may return to normal trade and ascend from half the population from being in poverty. As the days went by, less monsters crowded the roads, and more trading was done. But eventually, more monsters returned. Quickly after, the Kokiri, who were currently debating another trade disagreement with the Deku, were attacked and slaughtered, the survivors becoming enslaved. The King informed his people that they would begin trade with Ganon, as to entice the gerudo to let them live.
It was about this time Yuri began working in the mercantile business. One day, while she was smuggling goods to the Deku Palace, she encountered a man. He was a poor Hylian, obviously harried and hurt. He told her that, when Ganon had defeated Zelda and Link, the pieces of the Triforce weren't obtained by Ganon, but instead broken and spread across the land. The man looked poor and foolish, so Yuri disregarded him. But soon after, some of Ganon's men came to the Deku capital looking for something. Yuri, always one to make a deal, started accosting the men to make a purchase. Surely, she had what they wanted. Unwittingly, they tipped her off to the existence of the Triforce fragments. Imagine the deal she could make off of that!
She began following the underground trail of rumors and hearsay until she encountered a man. Said man had no money to pay for the ornate, antique bow and arrows he wanted, but was willing to trade some info. The location of a Triforce fragment. Hesitantly, she gave the man the weapon, but as soon as she did, he raced out of the shop. It seemed he bought the bow as a means to obtain the power himself. Yuri too, raced for it. For a day and a night, she rode by horseback to an old ranch where a soldier of Ganon lay in wait. He seemed to not know what he had, and Yuri was just barely able to swindle it out of him, having to give him all of the rupees she had on her. She, of course, got them back with her trusty boomerang as soon as he was far enough away though.
As she held the rock in her hand, it felt as though she was getting smarter every second. Quickly, she squeezed it into her palm and absorbed it. Just in time for the bowman to appear. As soon as they saw each other, he began to nock an arrow from the quiver, killer intent visible in his eye. But somehow, even though Yuri barely ever got into fights, she knew exactly what to do. She dodged his arrows with ease, and managed to strike him down. Though she originally planned to sell the rock to the highest bidder, it may have been a better idea to keep it. For now, she would make her way to Oasis to see how much people would pay for Wisdom as great as this.
Skills:
Merchantry - Like most Dekus, Yuri's main business is, well, business. She knows a deal when she sees it, and knows how to get people to want what she's sellings. She's also savvy of black market deals, and is great at smuggling.
Basic Self Defense - Though Yuri is by no means a good fighter, she does know how to defend herself with her small blade.
Gliding - Yuri has two propeller flowers, and can use deku flowers to launch herself upwards, or glide with them.
Magic:
Magic Bubble - Yuri can shoot a bubble made of magic, like most Dekus.
Gear:
A small blade Yuri keeps concealed in her long robe.
A simply wooden boomerang, able to stun enemies without helmets.
A small chainmail shirt hidden under her merchant's robe.
Weaknesses:
Can't Swim - Due to her Deku physiology, Yuri can't swim.
Inexperienced - Yuri is not properly trained in combat. |
4,872 | 126 | 4 | 2,159 | 3,792 | Sigurd
Oasis Resistance
"Oasis... A word that refers to a place of hospitable nature in the middle of a desolate and oppressive desert, in this case, it refers not just to this being an oasis in a desert, but an oasis to what this land has become...", already in the early hours of the morning he was up. Recently he took residence in the resistance headquarters, since he helped out so often they offered him a place there, plus his main goal was to find out the meaning of this golden speck, a piece of the triforce as he had found out.
"No matter how many times I define oasis to myself it doesn't change that I need to make some safe passage... The answer is out there, but too far away to safely travel", with a sigh he closed his journal and tucked it into his desk. He donned his pauldrons, hooded cape and helm, and grabbed his colossal blade and stepped out of his quaint little stone room.
As he stepped down to the entrance, he saw Etzo at the front. There was a mention of a potions problem, but he gathered enough that it wasn't a problem... Yet. He recognized this man Etzo, an alchemist of sorts. Making an effort to get to know this man on a personal level was as he gathered a difficult task, but the man often had need of someone who wasn't bound by the duty of patrols all the time.
"If you need a little extra, I could attempt to gather some the next time I go on the field", he offered as he stepped in.
Though shortly after that, another figure arrived, there was no mistaking that this was a Deku. In moments she pulled out a golden speck. Visibly, the guard on duty was astounded, but Sigurd himself did not expect to see another piece like this. He stormed right over to her,
"W-Where. Where did you get that?! How do you have one too!?" | Name: Sigurd
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Labrynian
Appearance:
Personality: A focused individual whose mind's sharpness is only rivaled by his blade. Despite the way he handles himself, and being a man of action, he is quite the scholar and thinker, even in the heat of battle, which gives him an advantage over particular foes. He enjoys both the arts and history, and has some knowledge of ancient languages, but is no expert on them. Unlike most of his knight colleagues back at home, he took to scholarly pursuits just as often as he took to martial pursuits, making him a well-rounded warrior. He despises cowardice, but values knowing when to retreat, he rarely wishes to get involved with matters that do not pertain to him, but if it is something he cannot stand, or if he just happens to feel like it on a whim, he may engage.
Background: A knight in service of the current queen ruling in Labrynna, he was from a family of knights and was raised as such. Labrynna was in a time of peace, but for eight years it began to suffer increased monster attacks, which urged his training on more. Eventually he would finally be knighted, and led many defenses against monsters since then. He has traveled far in the name of Labrynna's royalty for years, until he would find that envoys sent to Hyrule were not returning. They normally did trade with the sister country far beyond, but for years they found those roads dead silent, and filled with monsters. Armed escorts were not enough, this wasn't a simple monster outbreak.
Finally, the queen sent Sigurd to investigate, along with a small retinue of knights to accompany him. On the road to Hyrule they were attacked relentlessly by monsters, but finally reached Hyrule after a few days. It was then they learned that the kingdom had fallen. When they investigated, they had found that a place called the "Oasis" was a final bastion for this place, and so he and the knights made their way there.
They encountered what appeared to be a Sheikah patrol, who would lead the group to the Oasis. After a brief visit and inquiry, the knights had learned what had happened to Hyrule, and would set out the following morning to inform their queen.
On their way home however, Darknuts and Stalfos blocked their way, and many of the knights were killed, all but two, Sigurd himself, and one of his colleagues, who he would cover the way for, sending his colleague away to inform the queen while he bought time for his escape, as he was the only one among the two who could possibly hold this force off on their own. After a gruelling battle, and overexpending his magical capacities would damage them and ensure he cannot use magic for a good amount of time, he was on his last legs. When all hope seemed lost, a golden speck of light entered his view, and lowered itself on his open hand... A tiny golden shard...? He knew not what it was, but suddenly he could see the way the knights moved. It did not give him strength, but it gave him the means to efficiently use what little he had left, and with it, he would defeat the monster force. He would collapse there, until a Sheikah patrol would find him and bring him back to Oasis where he would recover.
Upon recovery he set out to find out what this little golden shard that granted him salvation was, and perhaps they were some kind of key to upturning the ruination of this land. Unfortunately, his magical capacity was weak, having been damaged after being overused, but he felt them slowly recover. He heard of what these things were... The Triforce. A legendary artifact, even some scriptures in Labrynna would reference it. For him to come across a piece of it... There must be some duty that the goddesses had entrusted to him.
Skills:
Master Swordsman: Even before taking his oath as a knight, he was a skilled swordsman, wielding a giant two handed blade with incredible skill and speed. He uses the weight of the weapon to keep himself moving while attacking, lending him to large sweeping spinning strikes, but at the same time allows him to move quickly.
Martial Prowess: Despite the way he uses his weapon, he has incredible strength, letting him do decent damage with mere punches, kicks and grapples.
Labrynna Knight: His training as a knight of Labrynna has allowed him to move effectively in his armor, as well as taught him the use of shields, even though he rarely uses them.
Scouting: Basic military requirement was he learn to scout. This allows him to spot incoming threats or identify objects or people from further away.
Tactician: He has knowledge of warfare, mostly from books, though it is largely untested.
Commander: As a head knight, he has experience in leading men.
Arcane Warrior: Sigurd has a pursuit of weapon magic, which allows him to imbue the weapons he wields with magical properties for devastating attacks, or a simple buff.
Magic:
Dragon Spin Attack: The spin attack has been a powerful sword art for generations, and people who could not master the original that the Hylian Knights use, would go on to make a version that they could use. This is Sigurd's, a sweeping spin attack with jumps and travels across the battlefield like an acrobatic dance. This attack uses an absurd amount of his energy though.
Gear:
Labrynna Greatsword: A gigantic blade made specifically for Sigurd, it has the Ages insignia on it.
Labrynna Knight Elite Armor: An ornate armor with a slim design. It uses a plated mesh in place of chainmail in some areas, and has the blue cloak symbolic of Labrynna. Classed as a medium armor, but the plated mesh gives it better protection than chainmail, but worse than plate, while maintaining the lightness of a medium armor.
Weaknesses: Sigurd wields incredible destructive power, the combination of any of his War Magic and Dragon Spin Attack can swiftly dispatch of groups of even powerful foes in moments, but it leaves him open to attack should it not succeed. Generally wielding the two handed blade makes his attacks slow yet far reaching, someone who can get inside his range with a faster weapon would have better luck fighting him. At the moment he's unable to use magic effectively, but at his full strength he is a force to be reckoned with. |
4,873 | 126 | 5 | 251 | 197 | Dia
There's no getting around it... Dia is lost. She's been past the same cactus three times now, and every time she thinks she's found a landmark, the desert ghosts and sand creatures kick up dust amd spin her around.
At least it's still cool. When the sun gets too strong, it takes all Dia's strength not to pass out.
But then... In the distance... A horn? Yes, there it is again! Dia rushes towards the sound.
From atop a dune, Dia finds the source of the sound. The forces of evil, attacking a caravan. The odds aren't good, but it only takes the zora a moment to decide what to do.
A ball of elcticity strikes a moblin in the back, stunning the creature and dropping it to it's knees. Two more follow, stunning another moblin, and crackling off the armour of the lizafos.
Dia stands proud atop the dune, lightning crackling in one hand, pointing at the commander with the other, calling him out to fight. If she can win a one-on-one, it should demoralise the other beasts, and give the caravan time to flee. | Name: Dia
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Race: Zora
Appearance:
Personality: A cocky young Zora woman, out to see everything the world has to offer. With the soul of a hero, she always tries to do the right thing, but is easily lured by rumour and somewhat overconfident.
Background: Raised in Zora's Domain, Dia always loved stories of excitement and adventure. In a way, these saved her life, as when Zora's domain was frozen by Ganondorf, Dia was away on what she considered a mighty quest to dispatch octorocks. With her home filled with nothing but danger, Dia left Hyrule, taking up the life of a wandering explorer and adventurer.
Years later, Dia heard rumour that the Hero of Light had risen up to destroy Ganondorf and free Hyrule. Dia returned home, but by the time she arrived, Link had been defeated.
Crestfallen, Dia sat at the bottom of the river until a golden spark being carried by the current caught her eye. Picking it up, she felt emboldened and came to a realization. The Hero may have failed, but as long as there were people willing to stand up and fight for what is right, then Good was still alive.
Still carrying the shard of Courage, though ignorant of it's true nature, Dia set off for Oasis, to join the resistance.
Skills:
Like all Zora, Dia is an excellent swimmer and can breathe underwater or on land.
She has trained herself to be athletic and acrobatic, capable of moving quickly, dodging, jumping and climbing with ease.
She is also used to surviving in the wilderness, fishing for food or gathering edible plants.
Magic:
Bio-electricity - Dia can generate lightning energy from her body. As well as tossing ball-lightning or charging unarmed melee attacks, she has practiced long and hard to generate bio-magnetism as well. She can grapple metal objects with an energy-lash and deflect incoming attacks with metal weapons.
Gear: Dia is lightly equipped - Zora typically eschew carrying too much, as it causes drag underwater. She typically doesn't carry much more than a small knife, a few days worth of provisions, her rupee purse and some simple jewelry, to act as foci for her magic.
Weaknesses:
Built for speed, not strength or toughness
Dependent on magic energy
Weak to heat/fire |
4,874 | 126 | 6 | 2,786 | 800 | Castle Town
The Temple of Time
Inside the Dark World
The Temple of Time. Once a holy place of worship to the goddesses, a place that held the most magnificent treasure of the realm and protected the gate to the Sacred Land. But now, by the very hands of the Hero that should have saved it, that gateway had been opened and allowed a king of thieves to steal away the very lifeblood of Hyrule. Now the Temple was a nest of darkness, a place where the denizens of the Dark World were birthed forth from the portal to join Ganon's armies. The Knight stepped through that same doorway, back into the world of light that had been thrown into a shadow nearly as black as that of the land he just left.
But Courage pulsed in his hand, brighter than ever. He felt its pull and followed it with trodding steps, his back hunched as if under an incredible burden. His arms hung loosely at his sides, giving his gait a predatory slink. The light, from windows high above, had a reddened, malicious tint to it, and the sheen of his blackened armor gave him a demonic aura under those crimson rays.
As he neared the entrance to the temple, two figures came into view. Their flesh, rotting and riddled with poisoned veins, was stretched tight--too tight, so tight that in places it tore--across their skeletons, which were twisted as if in agony. Their faces, too, were frozen in the gasp of suffering, their dried and cracked lips drawn tight over yellowing, chipped teeth. Only their eyes, occasionally glowing red, showed any signs of life. The two corpses, ReDead, stood guard over the temple and watched as the Knight slowly, determinedly, walked towards them.
Their orders were simply to stop anyone entering this place, and to direct those who would serve their Master, the Dark King, towards his castle. As the black knight approached, at first they thought him a Darknut, perhaps, or an Iron Knuckle. But when they saw that the crest of Hyrule still gleamed on his breast, they looked at each other in confusion. Then, one cast his seemingly empty eyes towards their fellow Dark Worlder.
"Screeeah?" it called. The Knight stopped and stood there, staring. The red light behind his own visor pulsed just once. Then he rose up a bit, his spine straightening.
"URRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!"
In an instant he leaped across the room, his clawed grasp finding the ReDead's face before he slammed its skull into the stone wall behind it. With a crunch the rotten bones and flesh gave way, and black, stagnated blood with a foul stench splattered over the masonry. The other ReDead took a breath for its paralyzing scream, but the Knight's head snapped towards it and he flung the corpse of its comrade at it. As the two carcasses--one returned to death--tumbled head over heels, the Knight leaped into the air and came down on the second zombie's chest with both feet. Again a horrific crunch heralded the splash of dark ichor, and the Knight threw back his head like a wolf after a triumphant kill.
"GAAAAAAARRRAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
He rushed down the steps, past the now-fetid baptismal pools and the dead shrubbery lining the front of the Temple. As he neared a Gossip Stone, a mysterious device which--for those who weren't Shiekah--was merely a magic timepiece, more ReDeads began to ascend the steps from the town below. They had heard the screams and come to see what was going on, and now as one pointed at the Knight and let out its terrifying screech, they began to swarm. In the distance, other screeches answered, the sounds echoing across the town as almost every ReDead in Castle Town received the signal.
The Knight was frozen by the paralyzing magic of the first ReDead's cry, but the muscles beneath his armor strained until it seemed they might burst. Then suddenly he was free again, shaking back and forth like a rabid animal. With another roar he dove forward to meet the monsters. | Name:
???; "The Knight"
Age:
Mid-twenties
Gender:
Male
Race:
Hylian
Appearance:
The Knight(The drawing is my own, please do not steal) once wore bright armor and a tabard bearing the colors and sigil of the Royal Family. There were once a mantle and cape to gracefully done his shoulders, and once a half skirt to make his movements appear smooth and flowing and give an air of regality. Once, he bore a youthful exuberance and a disciplined posture.
Now his armor has been blackened and twisted, cruel spikes rising from the metal on his arms and helm. The cape, mantle, and skirt have been ripped asunder, mail has cracked. Though the plate steel still holds a dull luster, and though the crest of Hyrule is still engraved upon his cuirass, none could ever think this bestial knight, whose gauntlets have turned to claws and who moves with a feral crouch where once he stood proud, to be anything but a monster. The red, unnatural glow from beneath his visor has lost its dignity, and become an ever growing furnace of rage.
Personality:
The Knight is ruled by two things: Rage, and the Code of Chivalry. Which one rules at any one moment is a hazardous guess at best.
Devoted to the destruction of Ganon and anything that stems from him, the knight will howl, snarl, and single-mindedly destroy until he reaches his goals. He still knows the meaning of retreat, though it must always be from necessity, never from fear. He lacks true tactical ability, but has a predator's instinct and cunning. Still, he would much rather openly challenge the forces of evil and bathe in their blood than he would slink like a wolf through the shadows. Outside of battle, the Knight often seems a blank canvas. He is still, almost tranquil, though he shivers as if in anticipation...or as if he can barely contain himself. Yet he seems to bring no harm to those he recognizes as allies...still, much like any wild animal, his actions are uncertain and often his purpose cannot be grasped by the rational mind.
Background:
Once the Knight was a man born to low nobility, to a line of proud--if not wealthy--warriors. Yet in training he showed both aptitude and zeal, and in time surpassed expectation and potential. A loyal and faithful servant of the crown, he won glory in the tournaments and fame on the field.
Yet all of that, save one last moment, has been forgotten. All of his former life now lies shrouded in shadows, and only the final memory before his transformation remains.
The Battle of Castle Town--the final stepping stone towards Ganondorf's ascent to godhood. The forest boy, in whom the Princess saw a Hero, entered the Temple of Time with three Sacred Treasures. He had accomplished great feats to attain them, and even if he were not the child of destiny already the land was beginning to sing his praises. Perhaps, had things played out differently, he too would have attained knighthood, and they would have fought as allies. Alas; the seal holding the Master Sword was undone. The child had proved his worth, and drawn the ancient blade. He became master of Evil's Bane, yet he was only a boy. And so he was whisked away by magics to a place unknown, and protected. The way to the Golden Realm now lay opened, and its golden, radiant light shone through a portal into a pristine realm.
Into that light, Ganondorf took his last steps as a mortal man. With the Gerudo King's treachery revealed, the Knights of Hyrule were assembled. But Ganondorf's followers were ready to meet them, and the city became a battleground. Though their princess had been seen safely away, Ganondorf had already begun to slay the soldiers as they sought to slow his pursuit. One of the Knight's friends died in a back alley, the last to see the boy in green before he took those fateful steps into the Temple of Time. In the battle that followed, where the knights set out to defend Castle Town as Ganondorf lay seige to it in order to follow the Hero into the Sacred Realm, the dark lord left fire and blood in his wake. He ascended the steps and entered the portal.
The Knight followed. He bled from a dozen wounds, and both sword and shield had shattered. Yet with trembling legs he climbed the stairs, his life's blood dying the velvet carpet a deeper shade. It was too late. From the realm of light, now only shadows poured forth. But Ganondorf still lay beyond. He could not rest until he had destroyed that foul creature. On his honor, on his pride, for the good of the realm, for the sake of the princess...even for the hope of the boy in green. The Knight stepped into the darkness.
Though he had always been a good and just man, in his heart lay the seeds of darkness. This was nothing, in and of itself--such a thing exists in all who tread the mortal coil. It does not define them. Yet those seeds had become coals in a white hot, seething fire called hatred. He hated Ganondorf. He hated the monsters whom had come to the dark one's aid. He hated his own weakness. The Dark World--the former Sacred Realm twisted by Ganondorf, now Ganon, and his influence--seized upon that hatred, that curling tendril of darkness inside him, and pulled it out. His body was torn asunder, then sewn back together. He was twisted, and blackened by the flames of his own fury. Split between his knighthood and beasthood, his new form drove him mad. Still he would not give in; still he desired to find the King of Darkness, and destroy him.
For seven years, he treaded the shadows. For seven years, he fought among a landscape of tangled trees with gnarled faces, upon fallow, cursed soil. He fought with all manner of monsters, who had once been men. He overcame trials and challenges. Yet always, always in the darkness, always in the shadows, groping and crawling and clawing his way forward. Until he found the light.
How had it come to him? How had it passed through this place, uncorrupted? He could not know, or even wonder. All he could do was reach for the light, grasp it, and feel Courage flow into him. It brought with it the scent of the forest, just like the child in green...but also blood, and the unmistakable pang of parting with a dear and treasured friend.
The Knight rose yet again, and with Courage lighting his way, he began to fight his way back along the paths hidden in the shadows...
Skills:
Knight's Training: The Knight is highly efficient in all the standard training regiments of Hyrule's Royal Army. This includes certain special skills such as the Ending Blow.
Weapon Skills: In addition to the standard martial arms trained by the Knights of Hyrule, in his previous life the Knight also practiced with less common weapons such as axes and flails.
Proficient in Armor: The Knight has been trained to run, fight, and even mount a horse while in armor, and his gear is specific to his measurements. It doesn't impede his movement nearly as much as it might another.
Magic:
None Yet
Gear:
Plate Armor: Like all true knights, this armor was made specifically to the wearer's measurements and preferences, and despite the myths of "clunky and slow" armor it has as much range of motion as the body inside it. It weighs roughly 25 kilograms, and consists of various plate pieces over thick underclothes, with some chainmail covering the most exposed places. The fittings are of supple leather and adjustable buckles, while other leather bits in the joints are of thicker stuff that can still absorb blows and hold back blades.
Weaknesses:
Madness - The Knight, though he is still guided by what little memories of his former life and his strong spirit that remains, is indeed truly berserk. His behavior, even among allies, is highly unpredictable and he cannot be counted on as anything more than a body on the battlefield.
Inability to Speak - The Knight's mind is so fractured that he cannot form coherent communication, and he must rely on body language and gestures.
Obsession - The Knight will take any opportunity that presents itself to attack Ganon or his forces, regardless of strategic significance. He will only retreat under the threat of death, and even then only to give his wounds the minimal treatment before charging back into the fray.
Cannot Swim - The Knight seems unable to completely remove his armor, and thus sinks like a stone in water. |
4,875 | 126 | 7 | 923 | 5,303 | The eyes of Sibela Zhetik narrowed as she pressed her foot up against a structure that was behind her as she crossed her arms. It was her first day back in the fortified settlement that they had named Oasis, but instead of relief she had felt nothing but dread since she had awoken in her bed. By all accords she should’ve felt inspired and hopeful considering the fact that the gods had chosen her to carry a fragment of the triforce since her happening across it during one of her venturous searches for her brothers.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it— the glimmer of a godly blessing and the responsibilities she was expected to hold. She had always done what was right for others but actually being given such a prestigious expectation was one she was still coming to terms with. She moved her hand as she turned it, imagining what was to come of her. The hero of courage was expected to defeat… him. How could she even expect to defeat such a menace that had successful pillaged, murdered, and executed others far more capable? She knew she had doubt, but she knew she had to be hopeful and move past it.
She had to.
She supposed that the best way to do so was to ignore it for the time being and move forward; to treat the day just like any other. There was a warm smile that move her lips as she jumped up and began walking through the streets of Oasis. Much like many others she was a refuge lost in the desert town, hoping to find some reason to survive another day as the world grew more bleak and depressing.
With a green-colored cloak covering her head and shoulders that she had gotten in Kakariko, the sun didn’t feel as daunting as she moved forward. She may not have been an “official” guard in the resistance-based town but that didn’t mean she couldn’t keep her eyes and ears open; there was always trouble somewhere and something to be done about it and if not there was always the option to going to the leaders of Oasis like she had done before with inquiry of assignment. If she could not find purpose, others could certainly help her in doing so.
The blonde-haired woman looked towards the headquarters and with a confident stride made for it. | Name:
Sibela Zheitk
Age:
Mid-to-Late Twenties
Gender:
Female
Race:
Hylian
Appearance:
A quintessential Hylian, Sibela Zheitk is still appears fairly well despite a decade or so of hardening and conditioning by facing the ire of criminals in the streets of Hyrule. The Zheitk dynasty has had its fair share of opportunistic adventurers, hireswords, and village rangers thus making Sibela’s pedigree of a warrior creed not at all out of character. However despite her formidability she is not particularly large (five foot seven). Despite this she does have a refined strength due to her time conditioning and wielding weaponry and basic armor. Sibela is used to wielding weapons and when off-duty does not go far from her blade, even in non-threatening environments; said blade is a well-crafted sword of Hylian make that lacks much for appearance due to her former rank in the Hylian Guard.
Personality:
Perhaps what represents Sibela the most is the tenacity to persevere and be resilient against all that the world throws at her. From surviving in the slums of Castle Town to Ganondorf’s assault on Hyrule Castle to the Kakariko Massacare— Sibela is most definitely resilient. Most people who have survived even a fraction of her experiences have turned out darker, bleaker, and pessimistic individuals but Sibela holds on to her ideals that have made her survive as long as they have; these ideals representing hope, bravery, and determination. But being hopeful and optimistic does not mean Sibela is naïve by any means; she’s witnessed death, misery, hopelessness, and dread; she knows how the world works and the consequences of those who try to survive in the shadow of Ganondorf’s tyranny. So it is with a clear mind she travels, holding on to the courage that allows her to move forward; courage that exists to inspire. The world may be a blackened wasteland, but if you don’t let the world define you perhaps you can push for a better one.
Expanding on Sibela’s optimism lies a cheery, albeit weary smile that exudes a personality of fearlessness, quirk, and kindness. As aforementioned this is a way Sibela can move forward for if she allows the darkness to consume her then she will be nothing and those who depend on her will have no reminder of the world as it once was. It is, that in actuality, Sibela’s whole reason for giving a pseudo-façade for people to witness— the world you knew and the world you deserve is not dead as long as you are alive. Sibela cannot believe her brothers are dead, nor that Ganondorf is undefeatable. She refuses that belief and will fight anyone who dares to suggest it.
Background:
Sibela grew up in the slums of Hyrule’s capital, her father falling into poverty soon after the death of his wife and the birth of Sibela’s twin siblings, Rokon and Dozal. However, the children of Turuk would soon find themselves in peril as their father looked to a man named Mozas for help. Mozas was a shifty merchant who allowed loans in exchange for favors and debt, but in the slums of the capital there was hardly many opportunities. Mozas told Turuk he had six cycles of a year to pay him back, but when the time came up and all of the income earned back (and ready to be exchanged) was stolen Mozas was not pleased and told his men to clean up his loose end—a fate Turuk knew would be coming as he sent his children to hide as enforcers came upon him in an alleyway of the slums as his children were hidden nearby. The end result was tragic and Sibela and her brothers would never forget.
With her father losing their life to Mozas and his “kindness”, it left Sibela and her two siblings alone and distraught within the slums of Hyrule’s capital. The hate burning within the thirteen year old girl was strong and it was with that strength that she dedicated herself to keeping her family alive by any means that were not relying on the merchant and con man who had ruined their lives. Though the difficult of such a task was hardly easy and the challenge changed throughout ever day thereon as it seemed she would be doomed to the life of a street urchin. There were days where she wanted to end it all and wallow in the shadows of the Hyrule cemetery— to take the sword of her ancestors and kill herself as well as what remained of her family before the gods in an act of desperate hopelessness. Her father’s stories about heroism, prevailing against the darkness, and the mythic tales of the hero of Hyrule himself kept Sibela from not committing such a thing and in the coming years she would come to be glad for it.
In the following weeks, Sibela would find her destiny changed as she picked the pockets of an off-duty guardsman named Ukal who chased the young Hylian straight back to her den where her brothers found themselves starving and in ill shape. Assuming Ukal was going to take back his food and coin from his rucksack she had there in an instant instinctively retrieved the sword she had kept hiding nearby in case she would ever need to use it. Ukal was decidedly amused, but enraged as well—but he was not angered by Sibela, but rather the circumstances where these children would need to do such a thing. It was there he adopted the children before him and began his odd mentorship of Sibela herself. It was here not too long after Sibela had considered ending their lives that they found their hope and a new home to live in, it nearly broke the young girl’s emotions flat.
Ukal saw great promise in the child who wielded a sword to protect herself and others with no hesitation, and knew great things would come out of her if he could guide her. This would in part begin Sibela’s training to become a guardsman in the shadow of this mentor that Ukal would become—though it would be several years before she would join the ranks of that aforementioned guard. Her soon-to-be mentor’s training was admittedly fierce and unforgiving, but she knew that if she could survive her father’s death at the hands of a vicious murderer then she could power through this and perhaps bring Mozas to justice much like Ukal brought other motley criminals to justice every day. Sibela never complained about it, her eyes on the end goal of bringing her nemesis to justice and her father’s death avenged.
Several years later, Sibela found herself recruited to be a member of the town guard of the capital. Within the early years within the guard she found her training by Ukal had prepared her far greater than others of her equivalent age who had only been taught the basics by the required training courses. Sibela’s drive for justice given to her from her childhood earned her a rigid reputation from the younger recruits who were more loose and playful, who had only joined the guard for the income that it provided (even if said income was not too grandiose); said rigid reputation was shot back with ire by the female Hylian who found her youthful comrades as “lazy” and “lacking purpose and drive”. In the early years of her role as a guard she found herself investigating Mozas himself, which had become a decrepit old man who had nearly lost all of what he had only a decade and a half earlier; an appearance that made Sibela nearly amused with pity. It wasn’t an easy job and turning Mozas in helped a bit of her pain, though his former partners in crime were still out there and the ones that played a part in her father’s death and ruin would be ones she would spend a near decade bringing down.
Time had passed, and her mentor had retired— her brothers were adults now, fashioning into careers of their own (Rokon had become an adventurer like his grandfather and Dozal had become a hiresword for a reputable guild) and much of the justice that she had vowed to bring had been brought. Mozas sat in a Hylian stockade and much of his accomplices had fallen into a similar fate, disappeared, or died resisting arrest. Life had pretty much settled and was as good as it could be— until the whole world went up in flames. The world was in peril at the hands of Ganondorf once again as prophesied. Sibela was twenty years old when she led a defense of the people of Castle Town before she was forced to retreat— a fact she was rather disappointed with in the end result. She had trained herself to help others since she was taken in and here she was unable to do anything significant in helping the realm.
She was as helpless as she had been when her father was murdered.
But she pushed on— with communication cut off from her siblings she hoped that they themselves would not get ensnared by Ganondorf’s forces, though the thought of them being dead plagued her nightmares frequently as she like many other Hylian’s regrouped in Kakariko Village; and for as long as it took she reinforced the village as best as she could as a volunteer. Her tutelage as a member of the Town Guard of Castle Town gaining her renown and influence despite being comparatively so young to others who did the same. But Kakariko Village needed all the heroes it could take as they were sure that Ganondorf’s moblin army would soon be at their doorsteps. When Kakariko’s time came, Sibela instead of standing firm once again fled but this time it was not her choice but rather an order directly from Impa herself. Seeing the dire situation and utilizing Sibela’s sense of duty, Impa told the blonde-haired Hylian to evacuate who she could and fight for another day. Despite feeling like a doomed coward, Sibela pressed on and avoided an untimely death at the Kakariko Massacare.
Ending up in Oasis, Sibela attempted to find her center— opting out of repeating her mistakes and joining the Resistance’s makeshift Guard. Trying to look optimistically towards the future and the fight against Ganondorf she began exploring after setting up her new home in Oasis. In addition to needing to find purpose in her existence again she needed to know both of her brother’s fate. So she began revisiting their last known locations, gathering clues and contacts out in what was left of civilization beyond Oasis. Retracing Rokon’s steps to a ruined temple she didn’t find what she was looking for; but something had found her. A Fragment of Courage; a piece of the legendary triforce that had been shattered before it vanished. What did this mean? What was this destiny?
She was honored… scared… but honored.
Sibela pushes forward with a heightened sense of purpose— not only will she find her brothers and learn of their fate, but she would stop Ganondorf. The god’s had deemed her worthy.
Skills:
Streetwise: At thirteen years of age, Sibela had to survive in the slums of Castle Town following the death of her father and her subsequent homelessness. In addition to taking care of herself she also took care of her younger brothers which required her to steal enough food and water to survive consistently for several weeks until she was adopted by a Hylian guard by the name of Mozas. Whilst her sense of survival skills in this manner are admittedly ones she doesn’t call on often— they do exist as optionable skills.
Hylian Guard: Trained by Mozas and conditioned by her peers since the age of fifteen, Sibela has all of the knowledge and skills appropriate for a guardsman. In addition to familiarity of the sword, shield, and fist she is adept in knowing Castle Town in all of its functions. Although her knowledge of former criminal factions is irrelevant in the present, if she ever would return to Castle Town she would know all of the subtle passageways and entry points including alleys, sewers, and so forth.
Adventurer: Following the path of her brother, Rokon, as well as her ancestors Sibela is a lightly seasoned adventurer and whilst she is no expert of temple traps, creatures, and maps she is competent enough not to get killed outright in a temple or ruin.
Magic:
N/A
Gear:
Requiem: The weapon most comfortable in Sibela’s hands and also qualifies as a dynastic heirloom that her grandfather had used during his adventures within the realm. Requiem is a Hylian Long Sword pressed in steel and faded with the colors of the kingdom—the royal blue and gold being hardly vibrant to the eye due to age and worn nature of the hilt. Requiem is meant to be wielded alongside a shield, though her grandfather used it with two hands. Despite the national colors, there is nothing regal about the sword itself and only the most foolish lowborn man or woman would assume otherwise.
Hylian Shield: Not an expected weapon, Sibela’s former mentor trained her to use it like one as the unexpected utility of an item can lead to saving one’s life in tricky situations. The dexterity and strength wielded by her training and experience has led her to be adaptable and confident in many scenarios where she could’ve found herself in perilous danger.
Cloak: Protects Sibela from harsh weather, cold temperature, and serves as a makeshift blanket when needed.
Knife & Canteen: Attached to her belt is a canteen of water and a knife for quick defense or utility.
Rucksack: Carries individual supplies and equipment that can’t be attached directly to her belt. Said supplies included include small supply of food rations, a sleeping roll for comfort in the field, and a sharpening tool for blades.
Weaknesses:
Psyche: Sibela has a lot of weights and flaws on her shoulders despite being a well-seasoned and trained swordsman. Whilst she exudes a bright and optimistic personality there is a darkness that dwells within her to succumb to the harsh and unforgiving world— to admit that her brothers are dead and the relentless onslaught of Ganondorf will consume all. In many ways this constantly assaults Sibela in her thoughts and through her nightmares thus attacking her psyche one bit at a time. It is hard to believe that Sibela could give in to hopelessness, but the possibility is there and she knows it well despite her attempts to outwardly ignore it.
Limited Experience: Sibela did not leave Castle Town until Ganondorf revealed his intentions and changed the world for the worse— and due to this Sibela lacks real experience with ruins, temples, geographic areas beyond Kakariko Village, Hyrule Castle, and Castle Town. She will need a veteran dungeon crawler or ranger to really make sense of things beyond her depth.
Limited Skillset: Sibela knows how to use a sword, knife, and shield. She has elementary knowledge of archery at best and is hardly a thief (though she is halfway competent at stealth), ranger, or magic user. What Sibela knows she knows very well and what she doesn’t she is generally ignorant of. |
4,876 | 126 | 8 | 2,170 | 1,634 | The chill of the morning air in Oasis seemed the perfect time to work on weapon drills. At least, that seemed to be sincerely held belief of several Gerudo women, scimitars in hand. Their twirling, flowing style of fighting with two long blades held a great fascination for Cricket; his native method of combat insisted on utilitarian moves and economy of motion.
Still, the enigmatic Sheikah youth wanted to learn more. He stood parallel to, but apart from, the group of Gerudo soldiers as they went through their forms and footwork, drilling and sparring. The slender Cricket stood, mimicking their movements and approximating their stances, with a pair of his own Gerudo scimitars. Well, maybe not his own; the word of a Sheikah training with the women of the desert attracted the attention of a few natives. Just now, some three dark skinned, red haired girls sat with amused looks on their faces, each armed appropriately to their standing except for one - curved scabbards adorned her well-toned form, presumably the rightful resting spots of the weapons Cricket wielded now.
On the ground near the desert maidens lay a long, brown coat with two Sheikah blades atop it. Kodachi, they were called by most. Shorter than a long blade, larger than a dagger, designed for close work and variable fighting conditions. The youth himself, an odd young man who answered to Cricket, could have easily been mistaken for a knife merchant with the number of sharp implements on his person. He was garbed mostly in functional, tactical black and grey, the cut and fit not a common sight in this part of the world. A black half-mask covered the lower half of his face, giving feature to his bright, red eyes and the tattoo of his people's symbol around his left eye: Three triangles above and a teardrop below.
Were it not for the events which had unfolded elsewhere in the world, Cricket would never have been seen openly here. He surely wouldn't have been learning the techniques of the Desert Folk, and he sure as hell wouldn't be this up close and personal with a Gerudo woman. But it was a strange time for everyone. Strange, and very dangerous.
Cricket's stark white hair blew in the cool air as he looked up from his practice, noting a hawk descending from the sky in the distance. It was a message, certainly. Hopefully it was good news. There was a convoy expected soon, perhaps this was the Fortress confirming its arrival. At least, he hoped. Something inside of him told him that it wasn't. He had come to trust these flashes of intuition, be they fairly recent arrivals in his skill set.
No, he needed to stop what he was doing and go see if he was needed.
The out-of-place Sheikah gave his borrowed twin scimitars a quick twirl and backed out of the morning's exercises. He jogged up to the three Gerudo girls, knelt before the unarmed one, and presented her swords to her with a touch of dramatic motion. She stood and sheathed them, regarding the strange boy with interest and amusement. Cricket pulled down his mask, revealing pleasant features and a wide, genuine smile.
From the corner of his eye, Cricket noticed the other Sheikah rounding onto the thoroughfare near them. He glanced over toward the man, and returned his attention to the lady standing above him. He took her hand and traced a triangle pattern on it with his finger, gave it a quick kiss, and rose. Recovering his coat and swords, he winked at his new friend and moved to meet the other Shiekah in town.
A series of hand motions seemed to ask a question, it was responded to in kind by the other red-eyed man. A look of puzzled urgency came over Cricket, and he fell in line behind the messenger, following him to Resistance HQ as their first volunteer. | Name: Cricket
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Sheikah (Sheikiri?)
Appearance:
Cricket is of average height and lean, with thick white hair, tawny skin, and wiry muscle. His eyes are his most striking feature, red and very expressive, with three triangles tattooed above and a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. His style of dress is distinctive, combining elements of Kokiri and Sheikah attire, mostly colored black with an extra scarf-like bit around his neck that acts as a half mask when necessary. Cricket’s ears are pierced in three places each with small, simple gold rings. A brown hooded coat covers most everything. This is good because he is generally covered with kunai daggers, and two particularly large and nasty blades: Sheikah kodachi. The last two are worn openly. He carries a simple, utilitarian backpack that looks like it is made of tree bark.
Personality:
In contrast to the reputation of his people, Cricket is warm and friendly, and just a bit of a showoff. When he’s on the clock, however, he’s all business and no emotion. This has caused people to wonder if he has a split personality, and this is exacerbated by his lack of speech. He adores music, either performing or listening to it.
Background:
Leave it to the Sheikah to have a Plan B. Kakariko was destroyed, but not everyone was present for the massacre. There was an Outpost, hidden carefully in the Kokiri Forest with the permission of the Great Deku Tree. It had been around for a long time, its existence kept secret from any non-Sheikah. The Kokiri in the area were aware of the presence of Sheikah elsewhere in their forest, but the exact location of the Outpost was still unknown. Cricket was born into the clan of Sheikah that ran this outpost.
The two peoples, Sheikah and Kokiri, were more than a little wary of each other at first, but over time they came to be allies. The Kokiri helped them adapt to the ways of the forest and attune their skills to their new environment, and in return the Sheikah very quietly helped defend their patch of earth and trees. As time passed, the cultures diffused, resulting in a more forest-running and musical clan of Sheikah, skilled in the use of Kokiri tools in addition to their own.
But back to Cricket: His clan was part of a networking hub, running goods, people, weapons, supplies, and most importantly, information. News of the various occurrences reached him because he was part of the clan spreading it. A few of the Sheikah survivors took to the Kokiri Outpost, as it was an unknown location from which they could regroup. From the point of Hero’s Fall onward, the Sheikah of the Outpost dedicated themselves to training for war. Cricket was barely before adulthood when all of this mess started, and he dedicated himself to his training (Sheikah and Kokiri, both) with rigorous zeal.
Eventually, as the enslaved Kokiri began deforesting the land, a portion of the clan was sent away, so that their lore would survive if the Outpost were ever found. Cricket was among those chosen to do so.
The seemingly mute Sheikah found his piece of the Triforce just prior to leaving his home. It was a routine trip into the woods, to hunt and forage for food for the first leg of the journey. Dusk was fast approaching, and an angelic blue light in the distance drew him. Cricket found himself staring into the pale light of a crystal shard, listening to a voice he couldn’t quite understand, but instinctively recognized as Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom. The light swelled in intensity and the crystal disappeared, it and the voice becoming part of him.
Cricket felt fundamentally changed, but still fiercely himself. From time to time, he will get little feelings of certainty, as he makes connections that others miss. Hunches, if you will. Cricket has come to trust these frequent flashes of intuition. His first one motivated him toward Oasis.
Skills:
Extensive Stealth Training – Sheikah Rule #1: Don’t be seen, don’t be heard.
Agility Monster – Fast, dexterous lunatic, Cricket is an accomplished acrobat, juggler, and is a devilish little bugger with sleight of hand.
Musically Adept – Plays several instruments proficiently, particularly his fiddle. Reads music and can genuinely feel emotion from the notes.
Intrusion Expert - He’s finding a way in. Locks, traps, dogs, walls, no problem.
Combat Proficiency - Extensively trained in the use of Sheikah weaponry and tactics, though Cricket is most proficient with short blades and thrown items. He has good experience with unarmed fighting and Kokiri tools, and has even taken an interest in Gerudo techniques.
Multi-lingual - Familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Magic:
He summons, and seems to be able to communicate with on a rudimentary level, small chirping insects. There may be more, but his ability to use magic is largely untested.
Gear:
Kodachi (2),
Kunai (12),
Deku Nuts (20),
Bomb Bag (12)
Deku Stick,
Finely crafted fiddle (in case),
Some rations (basic),
large blanket,
pen, ink, and papers in a scroll case
Thin, strong cordage (50 ft)
Firestarters
Various lockpicks, files, and skeleton keys
Backpack
Rupees, 50
Weaknesses:
Mute – Cricket cannot or does not speak, for reasons unknown by most outside of his clan.
Race – Sheikah are distrusted by many, and he cannot hide his appearance short of magic.
For some odd reason, crickets seem to like him. He will often walk out into a clearing in the dead of night, sit down, and play short chirps rhythmically on his fiddle. A truly remarkable chorus of the little guys respond, creating an awe-inspiring nocturnal symphony. He is rarely without one or two on him, who appear to know when he needs to be quiet. They seem to take care of themselves. It is unknown why this phenomenon occurs, or if he has some kind of unconscious control over them. Regardless of why, it has served no actual practical purpose thusfar, aside from being fairly impressive and a little creepy. It earned him his public name. His birth name revealed only to his clan, maybe a trusted few.
Cricket doesn’t speak, communicating with hand gestures, facial expressions, and occasionally his music. He is multi-lingual, being familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Prefers to sleep in trees, rafters, or other high places when possible.
"Shadows", by Lindsey Stirling. I try to imagine the percussion done by rhythmically chirping crickets. |
4,877 | 126 | 9 | 2,786 | 800 | Castle Town
The Temple of Time
ReKill the ReDead
"RRRAAAAAHHHH!" The Knight's fist smote the first monster on the chin, dislocating its jaw to hang limply as its head snapped around almost a hundred and eighty degrees. Another screamed at him, freezing him in place, and a third climbed upon his back, wrapping itself around him as its yellowed teeth tried to bite him, to suck the life out...but the rotten molars simply clanged against metal, the Knight's armor too close to his body for it to make contact with his flesh. When the paralysis wore off, he reached up to grab its head and threw it to the ground, the impact driving the breath from its shriveled lungs just before the Knight shoved his claws into its throat and pulled out its desiccated windpipe.
Another scream, and the knight struggled against it, but to go towards the crowd of corpses rather than away. His bones creaked under the strain of his own strength, and suddenly he was free, exploding forward like he had been shot from a bow. He slashed through the belly of one ReDead, dumping foul smelling innards to the ground; he grabbed another by the arm and jerked it with such force that its shoulder burst from the socket. The body was used as an impromptu flail to dash another one to the earth and hammer them both to death together. Another jumped on his back, but this time he turned and caught it before bringing its head down face first onto the metal plate of his knee caps, shattering its face and cracking open its skull. He picked the body up over his head, and with another roar lowered it before charging forward, battering through the melee until his body shield had been pulped. He found himself standing at the top of the stairs leading down to Castle Town proper--but though he did not intend to retreat, such a route had already been cut off. More ReDeads were coming, and with them, a leader...
Its body was more muscular than the other corpses. It had once been wrapped in burial shroud, but now the white was stained brown and yellow and black and red, from all manner of bodily fluids and filth. A red scarf, formerly a cape--much like the Knight's own--adorned its rasping throat. The broken handle of a shield was clasped in one hand. And the other dragged a sword.
The ReDead Knight gave its own scream, louder and more terrifying than its minions. Though the Knight felt its magic lock up his body once more, he screamed back at it, the sounds echoing out across the town's cobblestones. The ReDead warrior approached its frozen foe, as did the many lesser corpses behind him. Their captain raised his sword, right over the Knight's head, and began to bring it down...
Once again, he broke free! And immediately, on an instinct so deeply ingrained, on muscle memory that had been beaten into his body, that no madness could drown out, he acted. He dropped and rolled to one side, around to the ReDead Knight's back. He came up, out of the roll, body still spinning, claws lashing out.
Hylian Knight's Hidden Skill: Back Slice.
The ReDead gasped as it was struck, the blow cutting it from one hamstring up through the middle of its back. The wound wasn't deep enough to be fatal, with the short reach of the Knight's clawed gauntlets, but the sheer force of it knocked the undead captain to the ground. It caught itself on all fours, its sword still held in one hand--but the Knight's shadow appeared above it, his visor blazing with red light.
"HYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Hylian Knight's Hidden Skill: Ending Blow.
With the Knight's full weight, momentum, and gravity behind it, this time he drove his claw straight through the ReDead warrior's back, right between the shoulder blades. He punched all the way into its chest cavity and then through its heart and sternum, before ripping his hand back out. Black blood trailed the arc of his arm, and dripped from the elbow down. The ReDead's glowing eyes flickered, then went blank. Its minions shrank back in fear, but only for a moment. Then, with multiple screams, they began to rush the Knight. Body after body piled on top of him, until he went down. He grappled and flailed at them, but they outnumbered him, and though their teeth and that deadly kiss could not reach him, their claws and fists beat at him relentlessly, rattling the body within the armor. One of his hands scrabbled on the ground...then closed around his salvation with an iron grip.
The ReDead Knight's sword.
The rusted iron, wrapped in the same burial cloth as its former master, pierced up through the many bodies. The Knight rose behind it, hacking and slashing with wild abandon, screaming his fury for all to hear even as the ReDeads screamed back, his body freezing again and again as they rained blows upon him... | Name:
???; "The Knight"
Age:
Mid-twenties
Gender:
Male
Race:
Hylian
Appearance:
The Knight(The drawing is my own, please do not steal) once wore bright armor and a tabard bearing the colors and sigil of the Royal Family. There were once a mantle and cape to gracefully done his shoulders, and once a half skirt to make his movements appear smooth and flowing and give an air of regality. Once, he bore a youthful exuberance and a disciplined posture.
Now his armor has been blackened and twisted, cruel spikes rising from the metal on his arms and helm. The cape, mantle, and skirt have been ripped asunder, mail has cracked. Though the plate steel still holds a dull luster, and though the crest of Hyrule is still engraved upon his cuirass, none could ever think this bestial knight, whose gauntlets have turned to claws and who moves with a feral crouch where once he stood proud, to be anything but a monster. The red, unnatural glow from beneath his visor has lost its dignity, and become an ever growing furnace of rage.
Personality:
The Knight is ruled by two things: Rage, and the Code of Chivalry. Which one rules at any one moment is a hazardous guess at best.
Devoted to the destruction of Ganon and anything that stems from him, the knight will howl, snarl, and single-mindedly destroy until he reaches his goals. He still knows the meaning of retreat, though it must always be from necessity, never from fear. He lacks true tactical ability, but has a predator's instinct and cunning. Still, he would much rather openly challenge the forces of evil and bathe in their blood than he would slink like a wolf through the shadows. Outside of battle, the Knight often seems a blank canvas. He is still, almost tranquil, though he shivers as if in anticipation...or as if he can barely contain himself. Yet he seems to bring no harm to those he recognizes as allies...still, much like any wild animal, his actions are uncertain and often his purpose cannot be grasped by the rational mind.
Background:
Once the Knight was a man born to low nobility, to a line of proud--if not wealthy--warriors. Yet in training he showed both aptitude and zeal, and in time surpassed expectation and potential. A loyal and faithful servant of the crown, he won glory in the tournaments and fame on the field.
Yet all of that, save one last moment, has been forgotten. All of his former life now lies shrouded in shadows, and only the final memory before his transformation remains.
The Battle of Castle Town--the final stepping stone towards Ganondorf's ascent to godhood. The forest boy, in whom the Princess saw a Hero, entered the Temple of Time with three Sacred Treasures. He had accomplished great feats to attain them, and even if he were not the child of destiny already the land was beginning to sing his praises. Perhaps, had things played out differently, he too would have attained knighthood, and they would have fought as allies. Alas; the seal holding the Master Sword was undone. The child had proved his worth, and drawn the ancient blade. He became master of Evil's Bane, yet he was only a boy. And so he was whisked away by magics to a place unknown, and protected. The way to the Golden Realm now lay opened, and its golden, radiant light shone through a portal into a pristine realm.
Into that light, Ganondorf took his last steps as a mortal man. With the Gerudo King's treachery revealed, the Knights of Hyrule were assembled. But Ganondorf's followers were ready to meet them, and the city became a battleground. Though their princess had been seen safely away, Ganondorf had already begun to slay the soldiers as they sought to slow his pursuit. One of the Knight's friends died in a back alley, the last to see the boy in green before he took those fateful steps into the Temple of Time. In the battle that followed, where the knights set out to defend Castle Town as Ganondorf lay seige to it in order to follow the Hero into the Sacred Realm, the dark lord left fire and blood in his wake. He ascended the steps and entered the portal.
The Knight followed. He bled from a dozen wounds, and both sword and shield had shattered. Yet with trembling legs he climbed the stairs, his life's blood dying the velvet carpet a deeper shade. It was too late. From the realm of light, now only shadows poured forth. But Ganondorf still lay beyond. He could not rest until he had destroyed that foul creature. On his honor, on his pride, for the good of the realm, for the sake of the princess...even for the hope of the boy in green. The Knight stepped into the darkness.
Though he had always been a good and just man, in his heart lay the seeds of darkness. This was nothing, in and of itself--such a thing exists in all who tread the mortal coil. It does not define them. Yet those seeds had become coals in a white hot, seething fire called hatred. He hated Ganondorf. He hated the monsters whom had come to the dark one's aid. He hated his own weakness. The Dark World--the former Sacred Realm twisted by Ganondorf, now Ganon, and his influence--seized upon that hatred, that curling tendril of darkness inside him, and pulled it out. His body was torn asunder, then sewn back together. He was twisted, and blackened by the flames of his own fury. Split between his knighthood and beasthood, his new form drove him mad. Still he would not give in; still he desired to find the King of Darkness, and destroy him.
For seven years, he treaded the shadows. For seven years, he fought among a landscape of tangled trees with gnarled faces, upon fallow, cursed soil. He fought with all manner of monsters, who had once been men. He overcame trials and challenges. Yet always, always in the darkness, always in the shadows, groping and crawling and clawing his way forward. Until he found the light.
How had it come to him? How had it passed through this place, uncorrupted? He could not know, or even wonder. All he could do was reach for the light, grasp it, and feel Courage flow into him. It brought with it the scent of the forest, just like the child in green...but also blood, and the unmistakable pang of parting with a dear and treasured friend.
The Knight rose yet again, and with Courage lighting his way, he began to fight his way back along the paths hidden in the shadows...
Skills:
Knight's Training: The Knight is highly efficient in all the standard training regiments of Hyrule's Royal Army. This includes certain special skills such as the Ending Blow.
Weapon Skills: In addition to the standard martial arms trained by the Knights of Hyrule, in his previous life the Knight also practiced with less common weapons such as axes and flails.
Proficient in Armor: The Knight has been trained to run, fight, and even mount a horse while in armor, and his gear is specific to his measurements. It doesn't impede his movement nearly as much as it might another.
Magic:
None Yet
Gear:
Plate Armor: Like all true knights, this armor was made specifically to the wearer's measurements and preferences, and despite the myths of "clunky and slow" armor it has as much range of motion as the body inside it. It weighs roughly 25 kilograms, and consists of various plate pieces over thick underclothes, with some chainmail covering the most exposed places. The fittings are of supple leather and adjustable buckles, while other leather bits in the joints are of thicker stuff that can still absorb blows and hold back blades.
Weaknesses:
Madness - The Knight, though he is still guided by what little memories of his former life and his strong spirit that remains, is indeed truly berserk. His behavior, even among allies, is highly unpredictable and he cannot be counted on as anything more than a body on the battlefield.
Inability to Speak - The Knight's mind is so fractured that he cannot form coherent communication, and he must rely on body language and gestures.
Obsession - The Knight will take any opportunity that presents itself to attack Ganon or his forces, regardless of strategic significance. He will only retreat under the threat of death, and even then only to give his wounds the minimal treatment before charging back into the fray.
Cannot Swim - The Knight seems unable to completely remove his armor, and thus sinks like a stone in water. |
4,878 | 126 | 10 | 2,421 | 572 | ETZO
Etzo backed away from the short merchant, one hand cradling his head as she recalled old purchases, a mild headache making a return with their inquires. Waiting a moment for the migraine to disperse once more, before opening his eyes and patting the familiar Deku on the head in a welcome fashion, "Ah Yuri, I had thought you dead by now," he said with a glint in his stare as he eyed the leaves adorning her head, "though seems your strange timing comes through again, as you might be able to help me once again," he said, losing himself for a moment in thought, had lingering on the plant creatures head as he considered wether or not be could use them as a substitute.
Just as he meant to point her in the direction Gerik, and planning on clipping a sample for testing, the blue clad knight rushed over to the pair, speaking of gathering the leaves himself. The slim alchemist cocked his head curiously at the rather eager fellow, taking a moment to close his eyes as another wave of pain came from his temple, only to open them once more to find the man had come uncomfortably close, though the little Deku seemed to be the point of interest for the odd knight. Following his gaze, he found what could only be the weapon she had spoken of before, a familiar glow emitting from Yuri's hand. He felt a curious draw to the fragment himself, the piece within him obviously wishing to rejoin its brethren.
A strange look of manic glee graced his face as he looked at Yuri, a look that often had been followed by explosions lately. "Oh my Yuri," he said, his voice holding a distant quality as though it hadn't even come from himself. He felt himself begin to crouch as well, gently but stubbornly pushing the knight to the side as he took ahold of her outstretched hand, turning the palm this way and that as he examined it.
Looking once more up at her, eyes larger than his own glasses now as he stared unblinkingly at her, "You must let me run some tests," he said, sounding for all the world like a child locked in a sweets shop, hand slightly tightening as he said so. | Name:Etzo
Age:27
Gender:Male
Race:Hylian
Personality: A bit of a scatter brain, Etzo can often leave others in the dust as he jumps from topic to topic, often seeming to have little connection from one to the next. While he can easily lose track of what someone is trying to talk to him about, he rarely seems bothered by this, an easy smile on his face. Many people initially believe him to be an airhead, though he usually is simply distracted by a whirlwind of ideas that race through his mind. However, when brewing, researching, or raining chemicals and bombs on the enemy, Etzo takes on a rather manic manner, the normally easy going Alchemist going a mile a minute.
Background: Etzo had always believed he would live a shut in life, having been born in Kakariko village, growing up there, and finally becoming apprenticed to the potion brewer who live there . Days passed as he spent his time alternating between stocking the shelves and constantly surrounding himself in massive piles of books and failed experiments.
He found little changed to his daily life as Ganondorf waged his war, the only divergence being an increase in his time making supplies for his mentor as the refugees seemed to flood the town. While he was aware that the war continued beyond his village, as long as it didn't interrupt his research he could care less. Leave the heroics to the adventurers.
Unfortunately he had little choice in the matter, fate deeming he join the fray regardless of wether he wished it or not. Shortly after tell of the Hero and Zelda's fall, a simpe task of gathering mushrooms for brewing from the village's cemetery changed the young rookie alchemists path, finding a strange golden fragment laying in the soft earth of the grave of The Composer Brothers. Seemingly as soon as he touched it, the Fragment of Wisdom merged with Etzo, and suddenly the charts and graphs listing his many failed concoctions made him almost laugh. So many a night spent toiling, and now the answers seemed so embarrasingly simple. The next few days seemed to blur, the doors to his home shut to all as strange lights and smells eked out of the houses shutters and chimney.
It was only as the door to his Home began to crack did he hear the screams as the first wave of Gannondorf's forces by sheer strength a town that had stood for 7 years in the face of the growing tyrant. His body seemed to move of its own accord, mixing chemicals as quicker than the moblins soilders could break the door.
Finally as they brought the door down, they found a scrawny Hylian with a manic gaze staring down the pig like creatures. Drinking a glowing yellow liquid he couldn't remeber making, time suddenly slowed to a crawl as he watched the moblins gather themselves and continue into the house. Ducking behind one of the many massive iron pots for brewing he had, Etzo tossed a pair of bubbling vials towards the group, closing his eyes and covering his ears in preperation. After a cacophony of sound and light emitted from the home, a few moments passed before the manic brewer stepped out, the tail of his robes smoking and charred.
While most of that night after is a blurred mix of screaming, burning and explosions; some his and others from diffrent sources, the last thing he remebers is finding himself being loaded into a cart by leaving the village, one of the last to leave for Oasis.
Since arriving at the Resistance, Etzo has found it quite easy to make himself useful, sending cauldrons of healing and magic potions with the troops as they skirmish with Gannondorf's troops. His housing has since been separated slightly from most other residences, in order to avoid collateral damage. He can either be found taking down a list for needed supplies, tinkering with the next Revelation for the Revolution, or down at the bars getting wasted.
Skills:
-Archery: While he'd rather be chucking bombs, Etzo is a decent hand at throwing bolts at the enemies, having taken a few runs at the archery courses the women of the Gerudo tribe have set up since moving to Oasis.
-Healthcare: In an effort to avoid wasting resources, Etzo has some basic treatment skills, able to handle most non-life threating wounds on the field.
-Knowledge of Fauna and Flora: Research into the various uses of plants and animals for brewing purposes has at least in theory made him familiar with most of the denizens of Hyrule.
Magic:
-Alchemy: From his training back in Kakariko village, Etzo has a handy grasp on the chemistry behind simple healing potions, as well as magic potions for those that can make use of them. Aside from the old favorites, he is constant finding new effects to try out on the troops.
Aside from potions, he is well versed in putting together various explosives, lately becoming something of a demolitions expert during the war. He believes he could even make elemental explosions, though a lack of resources has made this only theory for the moment.
Gear:
-Bandolier: Leather strap across his chest holds a myriad of concoctions, all labeled in chicken scratch than few besides himself can discern.
-Portable Alchemy Kit: While he won't be making any miracle concoctions out in the the field, Etzo can throw together a decent healing salve with the right supplies, or a simple bomb if need be.
-Empty Bottles: For all your potion holding needs, also good for holding interesting specimen found in the field. Rumor says with enough skill, one could use them to turn evils own power against them.
-Large Bomb Bag: Where else is an alchemist supposed to keep his explosives.
-Heavy Crossbow: fitted to fire bolts in most cases, Etzo has designed a launching mechanism to send various concoctions at enemies. It's quiver holds about 20-25 bolts.
-Light Armor:While in battle Etzo fits himself an under layer of hardened sectioned leather, mostly focused in vital areas such as the chest and other areas.
-Backpack: Large pack made to safely hold all the various materials an alchemist on the go.
-100ft of Rope: What can't you use rope for.
-Wallet: For when you get tired of showing off your Rupees.
Weaknesses:
-Lack of Martial Training: While Etzo understands the theory of many martial skills, he'd had little training in these regards. While he can buff himself up with various concoctions, this is only a temporary and risky alternative to actual training.
-Absent Minded: The constant rush of theorys and fascination with new things makes Etzo rather open to suprises, often when not on gaurd rarely aware of people until they have made themselves apparent...multiple times.
-Low Alcohol Tolerance: Etzo is something of a light weight when it comes to drinking, which wouldn't be a problem, except if he isn't brewing, doing research, or within throwing range of a battle, he's more than likely at the nearest pub. |
4,879 | 126 | 11 | 1,180 | 1,981 | Yuri
Resistance HQ
Early Morning
Yuri huffed as Etzo patted her head like she was a child. The Deku may have been short in stature, but they were not children, and if he believed her weak she would have to teach him otherwise. Still, he didn't regard her as any lesser, it seemed. His odd mind must've just said that this was how a taller friend greeted a shorter friend after they had been apart for a while. Apparently, he thought her dead too. She was a mix of touched and offended at this, but disregarded it for his next comment. He mentioned he could still be a help to her. She was going to reiterate her previous comment about lack of spleens, but she had only slapped his hand away from her head before a strange man accosted her.
A quick glance at the man confirmed he probably wasn't a regular man. He wore a warrior's armor, but it was not of the standard Hyrule style. It was slim and stylish, and the sword at his side was not regulation. It was large, almost too large for any hylian to wield, it seemed. The symbol on it was not familiar either. The foreigner seemed almost in shock at what he was seeing, the piece of gold in her hand that glowed with power. She almost missed that he mentioned he had one too. That certainly put a damper on her plans, though she was sure that the Resistance would want what she was offering now. She held her hand out, again showing her power to those in the room. "Well, a merchant must not give away the trade secrets, yes? Though I will say Ganondorf's creatures are a wily bunch." She said. Hopefully this would leave enough up to interpretation that they would believe she did more than she had. Honestly all she had done was haggle him.
She was going to turn and try to find someone more important who could handle this big transaction, but the alchemist spoke. His look was manic, almost scary, and he seemed as if he wasn't in control of his actions. He pushed the foreigner out of Yuri's line of sight, and grabbed her hand like he was trying to court her. Their eyes locked, Etzo's in happiness and Yuri's in shock. For a second after the man insisted on running tests on her, the whole room was silent. And then it wasn't.
"UGH! What the in the GODDESSES are you doing Potion-boy?!?" Yuri shouted as she tore her hand away from his. Quickly, her other hand flicked, and out one of her sleeves came her boomerang, aimed straight at Etzo's head. | Name: Yuri
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Deku
Personality: A sly and cunning woman, always looking for somebody to swindle or force into a purchase. She is a natural risk taker. She does not trust people, and likes to appear mysterious to others. Despite this, she is surprisingly convincing, and is prone to bursts of emotion. She is frugal, understanding money's value and power. She is also kind of a loner, even if she speaks fairly frequently.
Likes
Money
Travel
Booze
Gambling
Dancing
Sweets
Dislikes
Smart people
Poor people
Kokiri
Water
Cuccos
Salty Foods
Background: Yuri has lived a fairly normal life. Even during the Seven Year War, the Deku people were safely hidden in the Lost Wood. Yuri was being groomed to be a proper Merchant, like her father before her, and his father before him. But business was different now. The roads were crowded with monsters and bandits were prominent. Yuri's father insisted on teaching his daughter self defense. He bought her a knife, and taught her how to use it. This proved to be a good idea.
News spread quickly of the Hero's return, even to the hidden Deku people. This brought much joy and hope to the Deku people that they may return to normal trade and ascend from half the population from being in poverty. As the days went by, less monsters crowded the roads, and more trading was done. But eventually, more monsters returned. Quickly after, the Kokiri, who were currently debating another trade disagreement with the Deku, were attacked and slaughtered, the survivors becoming enslaved. The King informed his people that they would begin trade with Ganon, as to entice the gerudo to let them live.
It was about this time Yuri began working in the mercantile business. One day, while she was smuggling goods to the Deku Palace, she encountered a man. He was a poor Hylian, obviously harried and hurt. He told her that, when Ganon had defeated Zelda and Link, the pieces of the Triforce weren't obtained by Ganon, but instead broken and spread across the land. The man looked poor and foolish, so Yuri disregarded him. But soon after, some of Ganon's men came to the Deku capital looking for something. Yuri, always one to make a deal, started accosting the men to make a purchase. Surely, she had what they wanted. Unwittingly, they tipped her off to the existence of the Triforce fragments. Imagine the deal she could make off of that!
She began following the underground trail of rumors and hearsay until she encountered a man. Said man had no money to pay for the ornate, antique bow and arrows he wanted, but was willing to trade some info. The location of a Triforce fragment. Hesitantly, she gave the man the weapon, but as soon as she did, he raced out of the shop. It seemed he bought the bow as a means to obtain the power himself. Yuri too, raced for it. For a day and a night, she rode by horseback to an old ranch where a soldier of Ganon lay in wait. He seemed to not know what he had, and Yuri was just barely able to swindle it out of him, having to give him all of the rupees she had on her. She, of course, got them back with her trusty boomerang as soon as he was far enough away though.
As she held the rock in her hand, it felt as though she was getting smarter every second. Quickly, she squeezed it into her palm and absorbed it. Just in time for the bowman to appear. As soon as they saw each other, he began to nock an arrow from the quiver, killer intent visible in his eye. But somehow, even though Yuri barely ever got into fights, she knew exactly what to do. She dodged his arrows with ease, and managed to strike him down. Though she originally planned to sell the rock to the highest bidder, it may have been a better idea to keep it. For now, she would make her way to Oasis to see how much people would pay for Wisdom as great as this.
Skills:
Merchantry - Like most Dekus, Yuri's main business is, well, business. She knows a deal when she sees it, and knows how to get people to want what she's sellings. She's also savvy of black market deals, and is great at smuggling.
Basic Self Defense - Though Yuri is by no means a good fighter, she does know how to defend herself with her small blade.
Gliding - Yuri has two propeller flowers, and can use deku flowers to launch herself upwards, or glide with them.
Magic:
Magic Bubble - Yuri can shoot a bubble made of magic, like most Dekus.
Gear:
A small blade Yuri keeps concealed in her long robe.
A simply wooden boomerang, able to stun enemies without helmets.
A small chainmail shirt hidden under her merchant's robe.
Weaknesses:
Can't Swim - Due to her Deku physiology, Yuri can't swim.
Inexperienced - Yuri is not properly trained in combat. |
4,880 | 126 | 12 | 2,159 | 3,792 | Sigurd
Oasis Resistance
"ENOUGH!", as soon as the Deku lady Yuri brought out a weapon, he grabbed both their wrists, Etzo's and Yuri's, and tore them both to his sides like two kids misbehaving. Compared to the strength of a knight, these two were powerless in his grip.
"We will calm down this instant, you especially Etzo. I too am eager to learn more of these... Artifacts, but the fact remains that you are being rude to another person, and a lady at that", after the two stopped struggling he let go.
"I haven't been in this land long, but this saved me", he said, pulling out from his tunic a piece of the triforce, it was sealed inside a tiny glass jar on a necklace. It was so tiny that keeping track of it in some other way may have been too difficult.
"A little investigation suggests to me that these are pieces of the triforce... It is the reason I still live, and the reason I still remain in this land. My intuition tells me they are the key to this land's current predicament", he explained briefly, before putting his away as well.
"But... We can speak of this more later. Earlier we got a report of an attack near Gerudo Fortress, and by the sounds of it, it can be dire. I will be heading out for there, a group of soldiers should already be on their way, but I will go too to make doubly sure... I hear a trade convoy is coming too, so it's also a matter of supplies", and so he began to step to the door,
"So until I return, I bid you all good day", with that he was gone for the fortress. | Name: Sigurd
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Labrynian
Appearance:
Personality: A focused individual whose mind's sharpness is only rivaled by his blade. Despite the way he handles himself, and being a man of action, he is quite the scholar and thinker, even in the heat of battle, which gives him an advantage over particular foes. He enjoys both the arts and history, and has some knowledge of ancient languages, but is no expert on them. Unlike most of his knight colleagues back at home, he took to scholarly pursuits just as often as he took to martial pursuits, making him a well-rounded warrior. He despises cowardice, but values knowing when to retreat, he rarely wishes to get involved with matters that do not pertain to him, but if it is something he cannot stand, or if he just happens to feel like it on a whim, he may engage.
Background: A knight in service of the current queen ruling in Labrynna, he was from a family of knights and was raised as such. Labrynna was in a time of peace, but for eight years it began to suffer increased monster attacks, which urged his training on more. Eventually he would finally be knighted, and led many defenses against monsters since then. He has traveled far in the name of Labrynna's royalty for years, until he would find that envoys sent to Hyrule were not returning. They normally did trade with the sister country far beyond, but for years they found those roads dead silent, and filled with monsters. Armed escorts were not enough, this wasn't a simple monster outbreak.
Finally, the queen sent Sigurd to investigate, along with a small retinue of knights to accompany him. On the road to Hyrule they were attacked relentlessly by monsters, but finally reached Hyrule after a few days. It was then they learned that the kingdom had fallen. When they investigated, they had found that a place called the "Oasis" was a final bastion for this place, and so he and the knights made their way there.
They encountered what appeared to be a Sheikah patrol, who would lead the group to the Oasis. After a brief visit and inquiry, the knights had learned what had happened to Hyrule, and would set out the following morning to inform their queen.
On their way home however, Darknuts and Stalfos blocked their way, and many of the knights were killed, all but two, Sigurd himself, and one of his colleagues, who he would cover the way for, sending his colleague away to inform the queen while he bought time for his escape, as he was the only one among the two who could possibly hold this force off on their own. After a gruelling battle, and overexpending his magical capacities would damage them and ensure he cannot use magic for a good amount of time, he was on his last legs. When all hope seemed lost, a golden speck of light entered his view, and lowered itself on his open hand... A tiny golden shard...? He knew not what it was, but suddenly he could see the way the knights moved. It did not give him strength, but it gave him the means to efficiently use what little he had left, and with it, he would defeat the monster force. He would collapse there, until a Sheikah patrol would find him and bring him back to Oasis where he would recover.
Upon recovery he set out to find out what this little golden shard that granted him salvation was, and perhaps they were some kind of key to upturning the ruination of this land. Unfortunately, his magical capacity was weak, having been damaged after being overused, but he felt them slowly recover. He heard of what these things were... The Triforce. A legendary artifact, even some scriptures in Labrynna would reference it. For him to come across a piece of it... There must be some duty that the goddesses had entrusted to him.
Skills:
Master Swordsman: Even before taking his oath as a knight, he was a skilled swordsman, wielding a giant two handed blade with incredible skill and speed. He uses the weight of the weapon to keep himself moving while attacking, lending him to large sweeping spinning strikes, but at the same time allows him to move quickly.
Martial Prowess: Despite the way he uses his weapon, he has incredible strength, letting him do decent damage with mere punches, kicks and grapples.
Labrynna Knight: His training as a knight of Labrynna has allowed him to move effectively in his armor, as well as taught him the use of shields, even though he rarely uses them.
Scouting: Basic military requirement was he learn to scout. This allows him to spot incoming threats or identify objects or people from further away.
Tactician: He has knowledge of warfare, mostly from books, though it is largely untested.
Commander: As a head knight, he has experience in leading men.
Arcane Warrior: Sigurd has a pursuit of weapon magic, which allows him to imbue the weapons he wields with magical properties for devastating attacks, or a simple buff.
Magic:
Dragon Spin Attack: The spin attack has been a powerful sword art for generations, and people who could not master the original that the Hylian Knights use, would go on to make a version that they could use. This is Sigurd's, a sweeping spin attack with jumps and travels across the battlefield like an acrobatic dance. This attack uses an absurd amount of his energy though.
Gear:
Labrynna Greatsword: A gigantic blade made specifically for Sigurd, it has the Ages insignia on it.
Labrynna Knight Elite Armor: An ornate armor with a slim design. It uses a plated mesh in place of chainmail in some areas, and has the blue cloak symbolic of Labrynna. Classed as a medium armor, but the plated mesh gives it better protection than chainmail, but worse than plate, while maintaining the lightness of a medium armor.
Weaknesses: Sigurd wields incredible destructive power, the combination of any of his War Magic and Dragon Spin Attack can swiftly dispatch of groups of even powerful foes in moments, but it leaves him open to attack should it not succeed. Generally wielding the two handed blade makes his attacks slow yet far reaching, someone who can get inside his range with a faster weapon would have better luck fighting him. At the moment he's unable to use magic effectively, but at his full strength he is a force to be reckoned with. |
4,881 | 126 | 13 | 1,136 | 329 | Nadijah
Gerudo Fortress
Out of all the different times of day, early mornings were definitely the worst as far as Nadijah was concerned. During the night the temperature often dropped below zero Celsius, making the desert cool down just so to better facilitate her lonesome, impromptu training sessions, while during the day most of her peers were awake and the amount of things to do all but tripled. There was always something going on, be it an actual mission or just a chance to practice her sword-fighting skills against her fellow sisters. Even in the evening she could always find some of her peers up and about, and observing the many foreigners that occupied Oasis as they prepared for the night ahead was nothing short of fascinating. O-of course, she was just doing it for research purposes to make sure they weren't a threat to the community! She wasn't actually interested in their habits or anything. Screw that!
Now, mornings? Yeah. Fuck mornings. Sure, she had woken up late enough today for many others to already be getting out of their beds and beginning their chores, but she found that nobody ever did anything interesting when they first woke up. She swore, even these interesting foreigners seemed to be sluggish and boring two minutes outta the hay. And yeah, yeah, she had happened to pass by a Sheikah (that's what those creeps were called, right?) practicing with some of her Gerudo sisters earlier on, but she couldn't, for the life of her, stay and watch. How some of them could be so stricken by a practically mute stranger was beyond her. Well, at least the guy had had some decent moves and the mind to wear black in a desert, so he probably wasn't a total loser. Still. Ugh.
Nadijah was pacing the outskirts of the Gerudo Fortress where she still spent most of her nights, groggily fixing her hair and wondering where most of the people were. Probably out on assignments, the lucky bastards. Meanwhile, she had to do her darnest to try and figure out how to spend the morning until her friends were up or back from their duties. Now how was that fair? Ugh, she'd probably just walk around aimlessly, or use the last few cooler hours before sunrise to get a bit more exercise in. Something like that. Same old.
... Or at least, that was her plan until the sudden flare of a torch high above in the fortress tore her from her grumpy inner monologue. She spun around as if expecting another one to follow and surely enough, it did - followed soon by another and a yet another torch casting its light into the early morning's darkness. Nadijah's heart skipped a beat in both surprise and excitement, the sudden signal of an approaching threat offering her both a cause of concern and an excuse to grab her weapons and do something. There likely weren't enough people inside to properly fend off whatever was coming, but... screw that, they couldn't exactly wait either! Even if it was just a few people, someone should go there right now and begin the counterattack. Someone like her, who wasn't exactly hailed as the patient sort.
So, grinning, Nadijah gave up on trying to fix her messy hair, opting to grab her scimitars and dash towards the entrance of the fortress instead.
Hey, maybe all mornings weren't so boring, after all. | Name: Nadijah
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Gerudo
Appearance:
She has darker skin than the image depicts however, and the fur-lined pieces of clothing are actually light armor. In addition, she often wears a cloak or the like for more cover, even if she keeps it open from the front. I'll see if I can find (or draw) a better image later, but for now this should suffice.
Personality: Nadijah is first and foremost a warrior of her tribe, dutybound to protecting her land and people come what may. From a very early age, she's been taught how a proper warrior should fight and act; aggressively but craftily, and she follows those teachings to a T -- most of the time. See, while she would very much like to be like Nabooru and some of the more seasoned Gerudo warriors, she is still relatively young, and that does mean that sometimes, she lets her emotions cloud her judgement.
She's a very curious individual for one, prone to trying to find out new things and sometimes getting carried away by an almost child-like excitement in the face of new things. However, at the same time, she's also rather crude and blunt, never having learnt the importance of manners. As such, if something interests her, she doesn't hesitate to go and touch it, even grabbing it from someone's hand if need be. Similarly, when faced with a foreign race, she isn't afraid to get into people's faces or poke and prod at them to try and figure out how they work.
Rude and intrusive questions aren't uncommon, and neither is her sticking her nose into places it doesn't belong. And she doesn't take kindly if someone tries to stop her or points it out to her. She doesn't want to admit to being so fascinated by these strangers that she openly distrusts; she just is, the same way she would be fascinated to see a new kind of an animal or a plant. Part of her is very excited to finally get to travel outside the Gerudo Valley with an actual purpose as well, seeing it as a great opportunity to see and experience new things - after she's killed Ganondorf.
It might be needless to say, but Nadijah is rather easily irritable, and most definitely hot-headed when it comes to certain topics. Her first answer to many things is violence if she can at all get away with it, and she has a lot to learn when it comes to friendship or the like. All she knows is how to be combat partners.
Background: Having been born and raised within the confines of the Gerudo Valley and the desert that surrounded it, Nadijah wasn't particularly touched by the woes of the world outside. For the longest time her biggest problems centered around training herself to become the best warrior she could be and figuring out how to navigate through the desert before dehydration or a heatstroke could claim her. Having always been somewhat of a hot-head and possessing quite a large amount of ambition, Nadijah enjoyed both endeavors immensely and spent most of her childhood fully absorbed in her duties. She didn't play with the other kids even when they were given the opportunity to; rather, she preferred to spend her free time stabbing at everything that moved in the desert in an attempt to better her aim and strength. If you asked her, it was more fun, anyway.
Like most Gerudo, Nadijah had no idea who her father was and whether he was even alive anymore - and she didn't particularly think to ever want to find out; she never saw men around, so she didn't really think about them. She knew their king was one - the only one she'd seen - but that was it. In a similar vein, she never did think about the possibility of other races existing beyond the desert, particularly when most of her time was spent in the training grounds, near the temple and the many desert posts, all places where strangers rarely dared set foot to. If the harsh weather conditions didn't stop them, then the fear of the Gerudo women did.
Of course, her ignorance of the outside world couldn't last. Against the odds, there were a few outsiders who did make it to either the desert or the fortress, whether they were looking for an adventure or seeking the company of the Gerudo, got lost or were being brought there by some of the adults of the tribe for a very particular purpose. The reasons hardly mattered. What mattered was that eventually, Nadijah was exposed to creatures very unlike her; creatures with far paler features and different physique, creatures that, according to the elder Gerudos she asked from, were called Hylians. Hylian men, even. They were the exact opposite of her. So the world had creatures like this, too...
Now, Nadijah was always a curious child. And while her preferred method of finding stuff out was to stab first and check what remained later, she couldn't exactly do that this time around (not for a lack of trying, though). So, instead, she started to ask things: who are they, where are they coming from, why do they exist? It was then that she learnt of a Hylian man called "Link" as well, said to be a hero of some sort. She was told, although only in passing, that there actually were lands beyond the desert - but that she should never venture there, particularly not when she was still but a kid in their eyes. It was too dangerous. They didn't need a thing from the outsiders.
Nadijah was conflicted. Part of her truly wanted to learn more about the world beyond the valley, yet she also felt incredibly duty-bound to her tribe and could never imagine abandoning them. As such, she stayed, but made sure to try and stalk every single stranger that entered the desert for as long as she could. Meanwhile, the Seven Year War came and went, with the valley staying mostly unaffected by its rage. The Kakariko Massacre was but a passing rumour, brought to the Gerudo by some of the men they brought in, but it wasn't anything they felt sympathetic for. It wasn't their business. No, it was only when the word of the Hero's demise reached the ears of the Gerudo that they, too, started to feel danger approaching.
And it soon turned out that the danger held a name; Ganondorf. Their former king, now turned to evil.
They lost Nabooru to evil as well. Their strong, beloved leader had fallen under the control of the enemy - an enemy that also used to be their leader - and yet the tribe had little time to spend mourning; they were soon met with an army to fight - and they did. Boy, they did. Nadijah was there in the front lines, hacking and slashing away at the foreign intruders that dared try and disturb their peace. Having always looked up to Nabooru, she was furious over seeing her leading the enemies, hellbent on exacting her revenge on every single soldier that dared cross her path. It was a bloody battle, but the Gerudo emerged victorious. Nadijah was badly injured in the battle, forced to be bedridden for months and receivings cars she still dons to this day.
Of course, the turmoil caused by the evil king didn't end there. After the word that Gerudo valley managed to withstand the attempted invasion spread, many survivors from other parts of Hyrule sought sanctuary there. And so, the Oasis was built while Nadijah was still resting from the war prior. And once she was back on her feet, she was once again conflicted. Suddenly, the Oasis - that was part of her people's land - was overrun by strangers, people who she couldn't trust. How could she know that they weren't seeking to take over her lands, or indeed, spy for the evil king? Ganondorf had changed when he'd left the Gerudo community. What if the outside world had done it to him? No, she couldn't trust anyone but her own.
As such, despite her curiosity, Nadijah refused to set foot in the Oasis for the longest time out of stubbornness, somehow feeling that her presence would mean she was on the side of those who called the place their home. Mingling with those strangers wouldn't do her any good. She needed to train on her own instead.
That was, until one night on patrol in the desert, a glow caught her eye. Interest piqued, she followed the glow across the sands, determined to find out what it was - only to find herself staring down at a shard of some sort right at the edge of the Oasis. Slowly, she bent to touch it -- and immediately, she felt a rush of something wash over her. It was vigor and it was warmth, and she couldn't help but gasp at the intensity of it.
Nadijah believed in spirits and the Goddesses, and seeing as how she'd found the shard so close to the Oasis... she believed it simply had to be a sign. Follow your instincts, let your curiosity lead you. Learn. Fight. Be brave. Maybe, just maybe it would be okay to go and see what the Oasis was about... just once. Or twice. But that didn't mean she trusted the people inside, though!
And so, she entered the Oasis.
Skills:
Stealth / assassination: While the Gerudo aren't as ninja-like as the Sheikah, they are quite adept at moving silently and striking their enemy from behind as well, provided that it's more effective than direct combat. She's also a very good shot with an arrow, be it from horseback or otherwise.
Combat experience / adaptability: Nadijah has been fighting in some form ever since she was young, and so despite her young age, she has experience with quite a few different weapons, tactics and combat styles that she can utilize depending on the situation, making her a very adaptable and unpredictable fighter.
Speed: Nadijah is fast, in movement, in a swordfight and in firing an arrow. She has excellent footwork, and can dodge hits easier than many. She has to, too, considering her lack of armour (more on that later).
Magic:
Nadijah can enhance her blade or arrows with fire, providing them with an extra layer of effectiveness in combat. However this magic is not tied only to her magical stamina, but also to her mood. If she's content, she's simply unable to produce said flames - she has to be angry or at the very least irritated for them to work.
Gear:
Twin scimitars
A knife for emergencies, hidden underneath her cloak
Bow and arrows
Weaknesses:
Lack of armor: Nadijah, like most Gerudo, place importance on mobility over heavy armor, and while that gives her an added boost to her speed and flexibility, it also means that she's simply not as well protected as some others.
Inability to withstand cold: Just what it says on the tin. She hasn't experienced it, she doesn't know how to deal with it.
Overwhelming curiosity: She's curious, it's true, and sometimes this manifests itself as certain recklessness when she wanders off to examine something new and curious that caught her attention. And while poking her nose into places that are none of her business is admittedly good sometimes (hey, it gets her information, if nothing else!) it can also prove to be even dangerous at times. She's aware of this and does try to reel herself back, however.
Hotheadedness: While Nadijah is an experienced warrior and can separate her feelings from her duty most of the time, there are still instances when her temper can take over and cloud her judgement, particularly if her tribe, home or friends (were she make any) are concerned. What this means in practice is that sometimes, she's liable to just charge ahead without thinking when she's boiling.
Teamwork: Nadijah is an amazing team player, really! ... Provided that she gets to work with her fellow Gerudos. Everyone else? Not so much. She is willing to try if need be, though. |
4,882 | 126 | 14 | 2,786 | 800 | Castle Town
The Temple of Time
The Knight Falls
Watching the Knight move was like watching a series of still pictures be flipped, page after page. The ReDead's screams came one after the other, keeping him frozen in place while their fists beat against his armor and their claws scrabbled at his helmet and chest, trying to rip the armor from him. Little did they know, the Dark World had changed the body inside along with the armor--for some reason none could yet see, the two refused to be parted. Even the visor upon the Knight's face, hiding whatever corrupted visage he had received, would not open.
Finally he jerked free of their spells, and brought his sword down in a mighty swing to split yet another corpse in half from head to groin. He swung at another, but the next series of screams stopped him before he could follow through. Still the blade bit deep enough into his next target to kill it, cleaving its side open and exposing the black, rotten pile of guts within. When he broke free once more, he let go of the sword with one hand and spun, slashing with both claw and blade in a whirlwind of death. Two more ReDead fell, and more only piled on. One dragged him down to one knee under its weight, hanging around his neck like a lover attempting a kiss. He drove his spiked helm into its face, smashing it into the ground, as his free hand caught himself before he could fall all the way to the ground and the sword lashed out again, cutting the legs out from under another adversary. Again the screams paralyzed him and they began to jump onto his back one after the other, attempting to crush and smother him under a dog pile.
The red light behind his visor grew brighter, the aura he emitted more wild, as his rage simmered hotter and hotter.
"URRAAAAAAARRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGHHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" He pushed against the ground with both fist and sword, his legs shaking under the strain.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! AH, AH, RUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" He shook them loose, a dog shaking away the rain, then chopped through them one after the next, caught them in a vice grip and shook them til their throats were crushed, kicked and stomped them until their skulls were smashed like ancient pottery. In a frenzy unlike anything even these dark, murderous creatures had ever seen in their time serving the Dark King, this Knight tossed them aside, smashed through them, and tore them apart.
Soon the soil turned to mud under the black bile spread across the long-dead grass, and the Knight's armor too was covered in stinking, rotten filth. He headed for the stairs, the sword slung over his shoulder in a loose grip. He still walked with a loose, predatory gait, but now there was fatigue there too as he left the horde of corpses behind. He stumbled, then righted himself. He lost his balance, and had to lean against a tree. Then he took his first step down the staircase. The light behind his visor began to flicker. He fell.
Seven years of fighting. Seven years of fighting to take one step forward, one single inch of ground, at a time. Now, he had made it back to the Light. He...had...made...it...back...
The red light went out, and the Knight lay still, sword still clutched in his clawed grasp... | Name:
???; "The Knight"
Age:
Mid-twenties
Gender:
Male
Race:
Hylian
Appearance:
The Knight(The drawing is my own, please do not steal) once wore bright armor and a tabard bearing the colors and sigil of the Royal Family. There were once a mantle and cape to gracefully done his shoulders, and once a half skirt to make his movements appear smooth and flowing and give an air of regality. Once, he bore a youthful exuberance and a disciplined posture.
Now his armor has been blackened and twisted, cruel spikes rising from the metal on his arms and helm. The cape, mantle, and skirt have been ripped asunder, mail has cracked. Though the plate steel still holds a dull luster, and though the crest of Hyrule is still engraved upon his cuirass, none could ever think this bestial knight, whose gauntlets have turned to claws and who moves with a feral crouch where once he stood proud, to be anything but a monster. The red, unnatural glow from beneath his visor has lost its dignity, and become an ever growing furnace of rage.
Personality:
The Knight is ruled by two things: Rage, and the Code of Chivalry. Which one rules at any one moment is a hazardous guess at best.
Devoted to the destruction of Ganon and anything that stems from him, the knight will howl, snarl, and single-mindedly destroy until he reaches his goals. He still knows the meaning of retreat, though it must always be from necessity, never from fear. He lacks true tactical ability, but has a predator's instinct and cunning. Still, he would much rather openly challenge the forces of evil and bathe in their blood than he would slink like a wolf through the shadows. Outside of battle, the Knight often seems a blank canvas. He is still, almost tranquil, though he shivers as if in anticipation...or as if he can barely contain himself. Yet he seems to bring no harm to those he recognizes as allies...still, much like any wild animal, his actions are uncertain and often his purpose cannot be grasped by the rational mind.
Background:
Once the Knight was a man born to low nobility, to a line of proud--if not wealthy--warriors. Yet in training he showed both aptitude and zeal, and in time surpassed expectation and potential. A loyal and faithful servant of the crown, he won glory in the tournaments and fame on the field.
Yet all of that, save one last moment, has been forgotten. All of his former life now lies shrouded in shadows, and only the final memory before his transformation remains.
The Battle of Castle Town--the final stepping stone towards Ganondorf's ascent to godhood. The forest boy, in whom the Princess saw a Hero, entered the Temple of Time with three Sacred Treasures. He had accomplished great feats to attain them, and even if he were not the child of destiny already the land was beginning to sing his praises. Perhaps, had things played out differently, he too would have attained knighthood, and they would have fought as allies. Alas; the seal holding the Master Sword was undone. The child had proved his worth, and drawn the ancient blade. He became master of Evil's Bane, yet he was only a boy. And so he was whisked away by magics to a place unknown, and protected. The way to the Golden Realm now lay opened, and its golden, radiant light shone through a portal into a pristine realm.
Into that light, Ganondorf took his last steps as a mortal man. With the Gerudo King's treachery revealed, the Knights of Hyrule were assembled. But Ganondorf's followers were ready to meet them, and the city became a battleground. Though their princess had been seen safely away, Ganondorf had already begun to slay the soldiers as they sought to slow his pursuit. One of the Knight's friends died in a back alley, the last to see the boy in green before he took those fateful steps into the Temple of Time. In the battle that followed, where the knights set out to defend Castle Town as Ganondorf lay seige to it in order to follow the Hero into the Sacred Realm, the dark lord left fire and blood in his wake. He ascended the steps and entered the portal.
The Knight followed. He bled from a dozen wounds, and both sword and shield had shattered. Yet with trembling legs he climbed the stairs, his life's blood dying the velvet carpet a deeper shade. It was too late. From the realm of light, now only shadows poured forth. But Ganondorf still lay beyond. He could not rest until he had destroyed that foul creature. On his honor, on his pride, for the good of the realm, for the sake of the princess...even for the hope of the boy in green. The Knight stepped into the darkness.
Though he had always been a good and just man, in his heart lay the seeds of darkness. This was nothing, in and of itself--such a thing exists in all who tread the mortal coil. It does not define them. Yet those seeds had become coals in a white hot, seething fire called hatred. He hated Ganondorf. He hated the monsters whom had come to the dark one's aid. He hated his own weakness. The Dark World--the former Sacred Realm twisted by Ganondorf, now Ganon, and his influence--seized upon that hatred, that curling tendril of darkness inside him, and pulled it out. His body was torn asunder, then sewn back together. He was twisted, and blackened by the flames of his own fury. Split between his knighthood and beasthood, his new form drove him mad. Still he would not give in; still he desired to find the King of Darkness, and destroy him.
For seven years, he treaded the shadows. For seven years, he fought among a landscape of tangled trees with gnarled faces, upon fallow, cursed soil. He fought with all manner of monsters, who had once been men. He overcame trials and challenges. Yet always, always in the darkness, always in the shadows, groping and crawling and clawing his way forward. Until he found the light.
How had it come to him? How had it passed through this place, uncorrupted? He could not know, or even wonder. All he could do was reach for the light, grasp it, and feel Courage flow into him. It brought with it the scent of the forest, just like the child in green...but also blood, and the unmistakable pang of parting with a dear and treasured friend.
The Knight rose yet again, and with Courage lighting his way, he began to fight his way back along the paths hidden in the shadows...
Skills:
Knight's Training: The Knight is highly efficient in all the standard training regiments of Hyrule's Royal Army. This includes certain special skills such as the Ending Blow.
Weapon Skills: In addition to the standard martial arms trained by the Knights of Hyrule, in his previous life the Knight also practiced with less common weapons such as axes and flails.
Proficient in Armor: The Knight has been trained to run, fight, and even mount a horse while in armor, and his gear is specific to his measurements. It doesn't impede his movement nearly as much as it might another.
Magic:
None Yet
Gear:
Plate Armor: Like all true knights, this armor was made specifically to the wearer's measurements and preferences, and despite the myths of "clunky and slow" armor it has as much range of motion as the body inside it. It weighs roughly 25 kilograms, and consists of various plate pieces over thick underclothes, with some chainmail covering the most exposed places. The fittings are of supple leather and adjustable buckles, while other leather bits in the joints are of thicker stuff that can still absorb blows and hold back blades.
Weaknesses:
Madness - The Knight, though he is still guided by what little memories of his former life and his strong spirit that remains, is indeed truly berserk. His behavior, even among allies, is highly unpredictable and he cannot be counted on as anything more than a body on the battlefield.
Inability to Speak - The Knight's mind is so fractured that he cannot form coherent communication, and he must rely on body language and gestures.
Obsession - The Knight will take any opportunity that presents itself to attack Ganon or his forces, regardless of strategic significance. He will only retreat under the threat of death, and even then only to give his wounds the minimal treatment before charging back into the fray.
Cannot Swim - The Knight seems unable to completely remove his armor, and thus sinks like a stone in water. |
4,883 | 126 | 15 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Cricket
Location: Oasis, Resistance HQInteracting With: Yuri, Etzo, Resistance Officer
Much like a determined little brother, Cricket followed the Sheikah assigned to Oasis into the main doors of the Resistance Headquarters. The fact that he was shorter than the Shadow Folk soldier didn't help this image much. He had pulled on his long, brown coat, but hadn't quite affixed his swords back in their usual place among his armament, carrying them both in his left hand by their minimalist scabbards. He continued to follow his clansman into a back room where the message was delivered to the Officer of the Day, a Hylian of middling rank who happened to fit into the schedule that day.
Cricket took a moment to wonder exactly what his place in all of this was concerned; since revealing to Resistance Leads that he possessed a Shard, he was basically given free run of Oasis and allied outposts. His personal needs were met so far as food and shelter was concerned, and he was left to his own devices for the most part. It was understood that when appointed a task, either singly or with a group, he was expected to see it to completion. Even if that completion was failure. Mostly, it had been tasks that leaned toward his strengths; information gathering, scouting, the occasional knife-in-the-dark. Acts of theft were not beneath his orders, either.
Mostly they came from Rath, but every so often another Resistance Lead asked for a Favor. What they called Favor oftentimes were strongly suggested guidelines of action, for which he received little or nothing in the way of compensation. But, Cricket wasn't here to get rich. He was there because he was needed. At least they kept him as well-equipped. A prepared Sheikah, as they found out, is a happy and dangerous Sheikah.
Personally, Cricket thought that these people just loved the novelty of having one of the Shadow Folk at their disposal. No one but the Hylian Royal Family had that kind of perk previously. Not for centuries.
When the Officer issued his orders to gather a group to assist with the trouble in front of the Gerudo Fortress, Cricket raised his index finger and pointed to himself. He had the occasion to volunteer for jobs before, but they rarely were open combat and never for siege duty. But from what the note said, it was unlikely to be a large scale, protracted affair. Some flash of intuition told Cricket that he was supposed to help with this.
The unspeaking Sheikah touched the message on the desk in front of him, looked expectantly at the Officer, and tapped his chest. When the Officer nodded to him, Cricket bowed his head, collected the paper, and exited back into the main room.
He was just in time to see a large, armored man hold up two other guests of the establishment by their wrists. Cricket had seen him around; Knightly type. Unsubtle. He hadn't worked with him before, though. Vastly different skill sets, most likely. It stood to reason that the only time they would have been paired would be for a specific mission, one which required both Quiet and Loud. Such a mission simply hadn't come up yet when he was available.
Cricket looked upon the scene with tacit disapproval. He sighed and shook his head. Such were not the actions of a properly functioning, harmonious unit. Still, he had to assume that the armored man was given the same message as he; the war was coming back to Gerudo territory. He supposed that this would be the day he worked alongside the Unsubtle. With a positive expression adorning his features, Cricket walked to the table the Knight had just left.
He flashed a smile and bowed his head slightly before his final approach, making sure the two of them noticed his presence. He had a nasty habit of being too quiet and irking the hell out of people. Interacting socially in the wider world had different rules than his own home. Being seen was one of them, usually. Not that it mattered when he got closer - his own Shard reacted, a soft glow emanating from the back of his hand in the shape of the Triforce, the lower left triangle slightly more pronounced than the others.
They were like him. Kinda.
Wordlessly, Cricket placed the message on the table near Etzo and Yuri, nodding to them with the implication to give it a read. His mildly illuminated hand outstretched a finger to the text, indicating the size and composition of the attacking force: Two Dozen Moblins, Lizalfos commander. Rumor had it that the Hylian man had a thing for collecting odd parts of obscure creatures. Moblins were common enough, but a Lizalfos? An assist in taking it down could be mutually profitable, to the cause and the Hylian's strange pantry of researchy bits and pieces.
Cricket smiled, grinned even, in anticipation of a job to come. His red eyes seemed to sparkle with something akin to glee; a positivity of some kind, with another, harder to place emotion mixed in somewhere. He pointed tilted his head twice to the door, pointed to a clock along the wall, and raised five fingers.
The odd Sheikah nodded expectantly, as if waiting for the answer to a question. | Name: Cricket
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Sheikah (Sheikiri?)
Appearance:
Cricket is of average height and lean, with thick white hair, tawny skin, and wiry muscle. His eyes are his most striking feature, red and very expressive, with three triangles tattooed above and a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. His style of dress is distinctive, combining elements of Kokiri and Sheikah attire, mostly colored black with an extra scarf-like bit around his neck that acts as a half mask when necessary. Cricket’s ears are pierced in three places each with small, simple gold rings. A brown hooded coat covers most everything. This is good because he is generally covered with kunai daggers, and two particularly large and nasty blades: Sheikah kodachi. The last two are worn openly. He carries a simple, utilitarian backpack that looks like it is made of tree bark.
Personality:
In contrast to the reputation of his people, Cricket is warm and friendly, and just a bit of a showoff. When he’s on the clock, however, he’s all business and no emotion. This has caused people to wonder if he has a split personality, and this is exacerbated by his lack of speech. He adores music, either performing or listening to it.
Background:
Leave it to the Sheikah to have a Plan B. Kakariko was destroyed, but not everyone was present for the massacre. There was an Outpost, hidden carefully in the Kokiri Forest with the permission of the Great Deku Tree. It had been around for a long time, its existence kept secret from any non-Sheikah. The Kokiri in the area were aware of the presence of Sheikah elsewhere in their forest, but the exact location of the Outpost was still unknown. Cricket was born into the clan of Sheikah that ran this outpost.
The two peoples, Sheikah and Kokiri, were more than a little wary of each other at first, but over time they came to be allies. The Kokiri helped them adapt to the ways of the forest and attune their skills to their new environment, and in return the Sheikah very quietly helped defend their patch of earth and trees. As time passed, the cultures diffused, resulting in a more forest-running and musical clan of Sheikah, skilled in the use of Kokiri tools in addition to their own.
But back to Cricket: His clan was part of a networking hub, running goods, people, weapons, supplies, and most importantly, information. News of the various occurrences reached him because he was part of the clan spreading it. A few of the Sheikah survivors took to the Kokiri Outpost, as it was an unknown location from which they could regroup. From the point of Hero’s Fall onward, the Sheikah of the Outpost dedicated themselves to training for war. Cricket was barely before adulthood when all of this mess started, and he dedicated himself to his training (Sheikah and Kokiri, both) with rigorous zeal.
Eventually, as the enslaved Kokiri began deforesting the land, a portion of the clan was sent away, so that their lore would survive if the Outpost were ever found. Cricket was among those chosen to do so.
The seemingly mute Sheikah found his piece of the Triforce just prior to leaving his home. It was a routine trip into the woods, to hunt and forage for food for the first leg of the journey. Dusk was fast approaching, and an angelic blue light in the distance drew him. Cricket found himself staring into the pale light of a crystal shard, listening to a voice he couldn’t quite understand, but instinctively recognized as Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom. The light swelled in intensity and the crystal disappeared, it and the voice becoming part of him.
Cricket felt fundamentally changed, but still fiercely himself. From time to time, he will get little feelings of certainty, as he makes connections that others miss. Hunches, if you will. Cricket has come to trust these frequent flashes of intuition. His first one motivated him toward Oasis.
Skills:
Extensive Stealth Training – Sheikah Rule #1: Don’t be seen, don’t be heard.
Agility Monster – Fast, dexterous lunatic, Cricket is an accomplished acrobat, juggler, and is a devilish little bugger with sleight of hand.
Musically Adept – Plays several instruments proficiently, particularly his fiddle. Reads music and can genuinely feel emotion from the notes.
Intrusion Expert - He’s finding a way in. Locks, traps, dogs, walls, no problem.
Combat Proficiency - Extensively trained in the use of Sheikah weaponry and tactics, though Cricket is most proficient with short blades and thrown items. He has good experience with unarmed fighting and Kokiri tools, and has even taken an interest in Gerudo techniques.
Multi-lingual - Familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Magic:
He summons, and seems to be able to communicate with on a rudimentary level, small chirping insects. There may be more, but his ability to use magic is largely untested.
Gear:
Kodachi (2),
Kunai (12),
Deku Nuts (20),
Bomb Bag (12)
Deku Stick,
Finely crafted fiddle (in case),
Some rations (basic),
large blanket,
pen, ink, and papers in a scroll case
Thin, strong cordage (50 ft)
Firestarters
Various lockpicks, files, and skeleton keys
Backpack
Rupees, 50
Weaknesses:
Mute – Cricket cannot or does not speak, for reasons unknown by most outside of his clan.
Race – Sheikah are distrusted by many, and he cannot hide his appearance short of magic.
For some odd reason, crickets seem to like him. He will often walk out into a clearing in the dead of night, sit down, and play short chirps rhythmically on his fiddle. A truly remarkable chorus of the little guys respond, creating an awe-inspiring nocturnal symphony. He is rarely without one or two on him, who appear to know when he needs to be quiet. They seem to take care of themselves. It is unknown why this phenomenon occurs, or if he has some kind of unconscious control over them. Regardless of why, it has served no actual practical purpose thusfar, aside from being fairly impressive and a little creepy. It earned him his public name. His birth name revealed only to his clan, maybe a trusted few.
Cricket doesn’t speak, communicating with hand gestures, facial expressions, and occasionally his music. He is multi-lingual, being familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Prefers to sleep in trees, rafters, or other high places when possible.
"Shadows", by Lindsey Stirling. I try to imagine the percussion done by rhythmically chirping crickets. |
4,884 | 126 | 16 | 668 | 1,466 | Oasis: Resistance HQ
The commanding officer of the HQ paced back and forth a moment after the Sheikah messenger departed. It was only now that the man, Gerik, realized that the messenger hadn't come alone. Another Sheikah remained within HQ, and in spite of his silence, it was clear that he was offering himself as a volunteer for the contingent Gerik requested. Good, perhaps a little subterfuge would keep this little skirmish from becoming anything more than that. Of course, Gerik knew the young man's secret, or at least one of them. Rath had informed Gerik of the piece of Triforce that the lad had come into possession of sometime before making the trip to Oasis. Well, all the better as far as Gerik was concerned. Any edge they could get over those Moblin bastards, the better. Then Gerik heard a voice, one that made him rub his temples and almost immediately induced a headache.
It wasn't that Gerik didn't like Etzo, in fact the scraggly alchemist proved himself quite useful as a potion and medicine supplier for Gerik's men, something they sometimes sorely needed. And yet, Etzo's manic and oftentimes hyperactive personality made him quite the handful to deal with. He fired away with some questions about supplies and ingredients, but given the current circumstances Gerik only partially paid attention. Right now the skirmish was the most important thing on his mind, not Etzo's shopping list. As if to compound the stress, a shrill voice made itself known, one that belonged to Yuri, a merchant who had multiple dealings with Gerik and his men. At first Gerik was ready to just shush the two of them and hurry them along their way, but some peculiar words caught his attention.
"W-Where. Where did you get that?! How do you have one too!?"
The voice, while not someone Gerik worked with personally, belonged to a knight he was well aware of. More importantly, this was a fellow who made it no secret that he was investigating the Triforce, why was anyone's guess. But just then, with that exclamation, Gerik's suspicion was confirmed. He did have one, and apparently so did Yuri. Four. That was four pieces that he now not only knew of, but learned were all in one place. This was either some form of destiny, or the world's biggest coincidence. Before Gerik could speculate to himself any further, Yuri and Etzo briefly began to argue only for the knight to loudly intervene before proclaiming that he was going to Gerudo Fortress to offer his aid.
"Hold it right there, Sir Knight!" Gerik stayed quiet until now, but he was having no more antics or suicidal heroics. Not in his garrison, anyway, most certainly not on his watch, "Before you go gallivanting into what could be your death, I suggest you volunteer for the contingent and leave with help at your side." he wasn't giving an order, this knight was not actually one of his men and therefore did not fall under his command. Still, that didn't mean Gerik couldn't make a strong suggestion, and if this man were a true knight he would almost certainly respect local authority enough to comply.
"First of all," Gerik began, "as soon as the supply convoy is rescued we're all going to sit down and have a nice, long discussion about this Triforce business, and what we're actually going to do with these pieces some of you have apparently felt the need to keep hidden. Secondly, I'm in no mood to babysit today, so either make yourselves useful or stay out of the way!" Gerik didn't normally act so abrasive, the current circumstances were the root of cause of that at the moment.
Gerudo Fortress
The moblins attacking the convoy might have had a quick victory. The hired mercenaries were skilled but the moblins practically doubled them in numbers so overwhelming them wouldn't take too long. However, they didn't count on the convoy receiving aid so soon. Namely, a couple of moblins fell, struck by balls of lightning. The lizalfos commander was also hit, but his armor kept it from being a serious wound. Being reptilian, it wasn't hard for the lizalfos to smell the blood of a Zora nearby, and spotted Dia in the distance, deducing her to be the source of the attacks.
With a pitched bark, the Lizalfos ordered the moblins to advance on Dia. One lone Zora couldn't hope to fend off nearly twenty moblins. Then, the lizalfos smelled something else, something advancing on them and doing it quickly. Gerudo blood, someone from the nearby Gerudo Fortress was coming out to aid the convoy. Still, a lone Gerudo instead of sending out an entire unit? Fools, if the Gerudo woman wished to die so badly, then it would be their pleasure to oblige them. Some of the moblins broke from their charge on Dia in order to advance toward the charging Nadijah. Fortunately for the two women, not all the mercenaries were killed yet and those that still lived decided to use the opportunity to renew their attack against the enemy forces. It was a real battle now. (Battle Music)
Castle Town: Temple of Time
Six eyes watched the Knight's emergence from the temple and his following struggle against the ReDead horde. He fought hard, valiantly even, but there were just too many of them. In fact, more were about enter the courtyard from the direction of town, and even some of the dead ones looked as if they were about become reanimated again. Ganondorf's curse on the area prevented it from ever being truly cleansed of the horde, at least not without managing to kill the Evil King himself. From the shadows they watched, six eyes belonging to three Sheikah agents waited and observed.
Watching the struggle unfold, one of the Sheikah motioned to the one in the center with a gesture of communication, to which they silently responded in kind. The exchange, though silent, went a little something like this:
"Do we intervene?"
"...Not yet."
So they watched, at least until the Knight finally fell. By that point, the Sheikah had seen all they needed to see. Namely, their leader sensed an unknown power of sorts coming from the Knight, one that he was sure he'd seen before but couldn't place it. In any case, with a simple nod, the Sheikah sprang into action like a well-oiled machine. Their initial strike was from a distance, all three agents carrying crossbows that they used to pick off the ReDeads closest to the Knight's body. Once close enough, two of the agents used their throwing knives and Kodachi to keep the ReDeads at bay, at least for as long as they would be able to. But even just a few precious seconds was more than enough time for a Sheikah to act decisively.
The third Sheikah knelt by the Knight's unconscious form. He could see no other identifying features other than a nearly-faded Hyrule's Crests on his breastplate. That didn't make much sense, their intelligence indicated that most if not all the Knights of Hyrule were killed off during Ganondorf's initial invasion of Hyrule Castle. So how could one still be among the living now? Reaching for his pack, the Sheikah knew of one method to learn the answer, and quickly put on an eerie-looking mask. It was mostly kite-shaped, like a shield, but it had a slit cut into it for the eyes. It was pure white, with the Eye of Truth symbol of the clan painted on it in red. The Mask of Truth, or at least one that still survived. They used to be more commonly used by Sheikah a long time ago, but war with Ganondorf had seen the destruction of most of them. With the masks, though, one could briefly gaze into the thoughts of another person.
"Sorry to prod your mind, friend, but we don't have a lot of time for pleasantries." the Sheikah, a rarity for these people. Though, to be honest this particular Sheikah had a way of defying most of the traditional stereotypes of his people and yet somehow still reinforcing them in a way. With the mask, the Sheikah had a brief peek into the fallen Knight's memory. What he found was... surprising, to say the least. In actually, there was little to be found, which was itself the surprise. This meant the Knight had his mind wiped at some point, how or why was completely unknown. But what little was there, it was apparent this Knight still felt a burning hatred for Ganondorf and still fought with the desire to save his kingdom. But there was also a peculiar light in the Knight's memory, and this was certainly what interested the Sheikah more. This Knight, almost completely crazed and with little in the way of sanity, possessed a piece of the Triforce. That was what prompted the Sheikah to interfere, whoever this knight was he needed to be saved and brought back to Oasis.
Removing the Mask of Truth and returning it to his pack, the Sheikah looked to his brethren and said, "Form up, I'm getting us out of here." the two Sheikah silently obeyed, and stepped back as close to the Knight and their leader as they could. The leader, meanwhile, retrieved a golden flute from his pack and began blowing notes into it. He hurriedly played a song his people helped create, the Requiem of Spirit, and he repeated the song even while orange balls of light circled around him and his compatriots, whisking them into the sky. In the next instant, even as the Sheikah was still playing notes on the flute, the Sheikah and the Knight found themselves magically transported to a place in the desert, overlooked by a tall statue known as the Desert Colossus. Oasis was practically a stone's throw away, and without even missing a beat, the three Sheikah worked together to lift up the Knight to begin transporting him to where the Resistance waited. | Fair enough, the Spin Attack was never particularly OP anyway, the Firebrand was my main concern. Honestly you can obtain/relearn that at a later point in the RP as an upgrade. Accepted, but quick question: did he leave Oasis, or simply read what few books and scrolls Oasis had to offer when investigating Fragment? Having most or all the PC's starting in or around Oasis would be the most optimal way to begin the RP with my current set of plans.
Also, just a notification, I updated the OP post a bit. Namely I added a couple more names to the NPC list:
1. Zalam, leader of the River Tribe and a secondary villain for the story.
2. Link the Goron, Darunia's son from the game and the current leader of the Gorons in Oasis.
3. Veila, Nabooru's second-in-command and acting leader of the Gerudo in her absence.
Also changed all the uses of "Zora Hall" to "Zora's Domain" because the first time I wrote all that up I massively brain farted and them mixed up. Zora Hall is from Majora's Mask, while Zora's Domain is what it's called in Ocarina. |
4,885 | 126 | 17 | 2,159 | 3,792 | Sigurd
Oasis Resistance
Barely a few steps out from HQ he heard the thunderous voice of a man he was familiar with over the past week, referring to him as "Sir Knight". The commander of this establishment and resistance, Sir Gerik. He turned himself around fully to face the commander. He may not be of Hylian military, but he has chosen to fight under them, and so long as their cause was for Hyrule, then he would stay and obey commands.
"Before you go gallivanting into what could be your death, I suggest you volunteer for the contingent and leave with help at your side."
"First of all," Gerik began, "as soon as the supply convoy is rescued we're all going to sit down and have a nice, long discussion about this Triforce business, and what we're actually going to do with these pieces some of you have apparently felt the need to keep hidden. Secondly, I'm in no mood to babysit today, so either make yourselves useful or stay out of the way!"
Sigurd's own response was quick and decisive.
"Apologies Commander Gerik, but I had meant to scout the situation before acting, though if it is within best interest to move with the contingent as you say, then I shall do so", he began.
"And noted sir, simply call for me when we have assured the safety of the convoy". So now what to do but wait? The contingent based on estimates should be ready within minutes, so he need not wait long... | Name: Sigurd
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Labrynian
Appearance:
Personality: A focused individual whose mind's sharpness is only rivaled by his blade. Despite the way he handles himself, and being a man of action, he is quite the scholar and thinker, even in the heat of battle, which gives him an advantage over particular foes. He enjoys both the arts and history, and has some knowledge of ancient languages, but is no expert on them. Unlike most of his knight colleagues back at home, he took to scholarly pursuits just as often as he took to martial pursuits, making him a well-rounded warrior. He despises cowardice, but values knowing when to retreat, he rarely wishes to get involved with matters that do not pertain to him, but if it is something he cannot stand, or if he just happens to feel like it on a whim, he may engage.
Background: A knight in service of the current queen ruling in Labrynna, he was from a family of knights and was raised as such. Labrynna was in a time of peace, but for eight years it began to suffer increased monster attacks, which urged his training on more. Eventually he would finally be knighted, and led many defenses against monsters since then. He has traveled far in the name of Labrynna's royalty for years, until he would find that envoys sent to Hyrule were not returning. They normally did trade with the sister country far beyond, but for years they found those roads dead silent, and filled with monsters. Armed escorts were not enough, this wasn't a simple monster outbreak.
Finally, the queen sent Sigurd to investigate, along with a small retinue of knights to accompany him. On the road to Hyrule they were attacked relentlessly by monsters, but finally reached Hyrule after a few days. It was then they learned that the kingdom had fallen. When they investigated, they had found that a place called the "Oasis" was a final bastion for this place, and so he and the knights made their way there.
They encountered what appeared to be a Sheikah patrol, who would lead the group to the Oasis. After a brief visit and inquiry, the knights had learned what had happened to Hyrule, and would set out the following morning to inform their queen.
On their way home however, Darknuts and Stalfos blocked their way, and many of the knights were killed, all but two, Sigurd himself, and one of his colleagues, who he would cover the way for, sending his colleague away to inform the queen while he bought time for his escape, as he was the only one among the two who could possibly hold this force off on their own. After a gruelling battle, and overexpending his magical capacities would damage them and ensure he cannot use magic for a good amount of time, he was on his last legs. When all hope seemed lost, a golden speck of light entered his view, and lowered itself on his open hand... A tiny golden shard...? He knew not what it was, but suddenly he could see the way the knights moved. It did not give him strength, but it gave him the means to efficiently use what little he had left, and with it, he would defeat the monster force. He would collapse there, until a Sheikah patrol would find him and bring him back to Oasis where he would recover.
Upon recovery he set out to find out what this little golden shard that granted him salvation was, and perhaps they were some kind of key to upturning the ruination of this land. Unfortunately, his magical capacity was weak, having been damaged after being overused, but he felt them slowly recover. He heard of what these things were... The Triforce. A legendary artifact, even some scriptures in Labrynna would reference it. For him to come across a piece of it... There must be some duty that the goddesses had entrusted to him.
Skills:
Master Swordsman: Even before taking his oath as a knight, he was a skilled swordsman, wielding a giant two handed blade with incredible skill and speed. He uses the weight of the weapon to keep himself moving while attacking, lending him to large sweeping spinning strikes, but at the same time allows him to move quickly.
Martial Prowess: Despite the way he uses his weapon, he has incredible strength, letting him do decent damage with mere punches, kicks and grapples.
Labrynna Knight: His training as a knight of Labrynna has allowed him to move effectively in his armor, as well as taught him the use of shields, even though he rarely uses them.
Scouting: Basic military requirement was he learn to scout. This allows him to spot incoming threats or identify objects or people from further away.
Tactician: He has knowledge of warfare, mostly from books, though it is largely untested.
Commander: As a head knight, he has experience in leading men.
Arcane Warrior: Sigurd has a pursuit of weapon magic, which allows him to imbue the weapons he wields with magical properties for devastating attacks, or a simple buff.
Magic:
Dragon Spin Attack: The spin attack has been a powerful sword art for generations, and people who could not master the original that the Hylian Knights use, would go on to make a version that they could use. This is Sigurd's, a sweeping spin attack with jumps and travels across the battlefield like an acrobatic dance. This attack uses an absurd amount of his energy though.
Gear:
Labrynna Greatsword: A gigantic blade made specifically for Sigurd, it has the Ages insignia on it.
Labrynna Knight Elite Armor: An ornate armor with a slim design. It uses a plated mesh in place of chainmail in some areas, and has the blue cloak symbolic of Labrynna. Classed as a medium armor, but the plated mesh gives it better protection than chainmail, but worse than plate, while maintaining the lightness of a medium armor.
Weaknesses: Sigurd wields incredible destructive power, the combination of any of his War Magic and Dragon Spin Attack can swiftly dispatch of groups of even powerful foes in moments, but it leaves him open to attack should it not succeed. Generally wielding the two handed blade makes his attacks slow yet far reaching, someone who can get inside his range with a faster weapon would have better luck fighting him. At the moment he's unable to use magic effectively, but at his full strength he is a force to be reckoned with. |
4,886 | 126 | 18 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Cricket
Location: Oasis: Resistance HQ, Streets, RooftopsInteracting With: Gerik, Oblivious Merchant
The realization dawned on Cricket that the contingent of very mismatched professionals meant to leave immediately. As in, last person enters, everyone has briefing, they leave on mission. He glanced about at those assembled, silently counting. Unless the people present were very elite warriors, the few of them would not be attacking two dozen Moblins and a Lizalfos.
He reasoned that this number of his Clansmen could pull it off, given cover of darkness or a well staged trap; probably something involving range or bombs, but there was only Sheikah (himself), moreover no darkness nor opportunity to stage a trap. If he was going, he had to go prepared for battle. In the open, obvious battle allied with persons he had never worked with previously and varying in combat experience.
Cricket was going to need more knives.
A sudden, urgent look crossed his face, reflecting his thoughts on the numbers at play. He raised his hand, pausing it in front of himself, and motioned again to the water clock on the wall. The unspeaking Sheikah raised three fingers, then brought his thumb and forefinger close together, the way someone might when describing something very small. Apparently, he didn't mean to be very long, whatever he planned on doing.
Turning gracefully toward the door, he shed his long, brown coat, tossing it up into the air. The moment eyes began to follow the motion of the neutral garment, Cricket bolted for the exit. By the time it landed lightly on the back of the chair he intended to occupy, he was already out the door, running full tilt toward a destination unknown to all save himself.
The sky was lit a myriad of colors; chiefly reds and soft purples in the steadily growing morning light, streaking out into the more common yellow and blue colors of the daytime. It was a truly lovely sight that Cricket ignored as he placed one foot in front of the other, quietly and swiftly covering more distance than one might assume a man of his slighter dimensions capable. The concept of breaking stride didn't seem to enter his thought process as he came upon a gaggle of stray Cuccos. He leapt bodily, kicking off of the wall nearby and landing softly behind them, nary a feather ruffled nor unplucked reinforcements summoned at the behest of their clucking brethren.
Quickly, he turned down the next alleyway, out of sight of the rising sun. A merchant was unloading a cart full of date bread into the back of his storefront, packaged neatly in large reed baskets. Cricket was able to time his uninterrupted passage between the cart and the baker while the bulbous man's back was turned, arms laden with sweet and heavy edibles.
The alley terminated with a dead end, rising one story. Cricket flung two kunai ahead of himself, both striking horizontally into the wallface and sinking deeply, approximately five and eight feet from the ground, respectively. The ring pommels quivered slightly from the sudden stop, but they remained otherwise stable in their purpose as an ersatz ladder, which the agile Sheikah hurled himself skyward upon. It was a short few steps before a determined leap took him across a narrow alley on the opposite side of the structure he'd just scaled, and a second leap, this one vertical, to grasp the bottom of a windowsill.
Cricket's hands held solidly, lifting the slender young man's torso just enough to get one foot in the corner of the window. Peering inside for a moment confirmed his selection of buildings - this was indeed the warehouse upon which his residence was constructed.
Both feet firmly in the window, Cricket gave a Leap of Faith, kicking off hard and rotating halfway; just enough to catch the solid, square overhang of the roof while providing momentum sufficient to propel him from a hang below to a handstand above. He came to settle on the flat, mostly open roof, and took a single deep breath. He was home.
The "home" was really more of a solid shack of wood and stone, built atop a large structure that saw little in the way of foot traffic. It was quiet and afforded him both privacy and an excellent view of Oasis, including lands around. The entire roof of the warehouse served as his yard and training area, dotted every now and again with potted plants of various applications and featuring a low, external hearth suitable for cooking or warmth at night. The interior, while not spartan, was rather basic. Mostly it was a place for storage and sleeping, but it had a few personal amenities established over the months Cricket had lived in it. Lived part-time, anyway.
But he was not here for creature comforts. There was a slim, fitting backpack that he maintained from his days in the Kokiri Forest he meant to retrieve. It was always packed for a mission, be it long or short term. The pack held a deceptive amount of goods, was easy to access, and looked exactly like tree bark. Cricket liked it because it was balanced and didn't throw off his more delicate movement. Also, it was a memento of his home, back at the Outpost. He also grabbed a few more knives, a strong and flexible Deku Staff, and his Bomb Bag, then turned to leave.
Getting back was much easier. A broad leap from the side of the building ended in a shoulder roll onto the next one. He segued his parkour-worthy descent into another controlled fall, back into the alley with the merchant, reclaiming his knives in the process. A silent sprint toward the cart bearing date-bread turned into a low slide underneath it; he rose on the other side two large loaves richer and one rupee poorer, the latter left in the basket from which he purloined the former.
Cricket smiled broadly under his half mask. These were the moments that made life worthwhile.
Seconds later, the doors to Resistance HQ pushed open. The campaign-ready Sheikah stepped through, leaning on his Kokiri weapon with two large loaves tucked under an arm. He tossed the sweet, dense bread onto the table and motioned for others to help themselves. With a hand free, finally, he thumbed down his mask and leaned his staff against his coat on the back of the chair he had claimed just prior to his dramatic egress. In the absence of formality, he cut a formidable chunk for himself and awaited both the words of the Resistance officer in charge of the operation, and the arrival of the rest of his contingent. | Name: Cricket
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Sheikah (Sheikiri?)
Appearance:
Cricket is of average height and lean, with thick white hair, tawny skin, and wiry muscle. His eyes are his most striking feature, red and very expressive, with three triangles tattooed above and a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. His style of dress is distinctive, combining elements of Kokiri and Sheikah attire, mostly colored black with an extra scarf-like bit around his neck that acts as a half mask when necessary. Cricket’s ears are pierced in three places each with small, simple gold rings. A brown hooded coat covers most everything. This is good because he is generally covered with kunai daggers, and two particularly large and nasty blades: Sheikah kodachi. The last two are worn openly. He carries a simple, utilitarian backpack that looks like it is made of tree bark.
Personality:
In contrast to the reputation of his people, Cricket is warm and friendly, and just a bit of a showoff. When he’s on the clock, however, he’s all business and no emotion. This has caused people to wonder if he has a split personality, and this is exacerbated by his lack of speech. He adores music, either performing or listening to it.
Background:
Leave it to the Sheikah to have a Plan B. Kakariko was destroyed, but not everyone was present for the massacre. There was an Outpost, hidden carefully in the Kokiri Forest with the permission of the Great Deku Tree. It had been around for a long time, its existence kept secret from any non-Sheikah. The Kokiri in the area were aware of the presence of Sheikah elsewhere in their forest, but the exact location of the Outpost was still unknown. Cricket was born into the clan of Sheikah that ran this outpost.
The two peoples, Sheikah and Kokiri, were more than a little wary of each other at first, but over time they came to be allies. The Kokiri helped them adapt to the ways of the forest and attune their skills to their new environment, and in return the Sheikah very quietly helped defend their patch of earth and trees. As time passed, the cultures diffused, resulting in a more forest-running and musical clan of Sheikah, skilled in the use of Kokiri tools in addition to their own.
But back to Cricket: His clan was part of a networking hub, running goods, people, weapons, supplies, and most importantly, information. News of the various occurrences reached him because he was part of the clan spreading it. A few of the Sheikah survivors took to the Kokiri Outpost, as it was an unknown location from which they could regroup. From the point of Hero’s Fall onward, the Sheikah of the Outpost dedicated themselves to training for war. Cricket was barely before adulthood when all of this mess started, and he dedicated himself to his training (Sheikah and Kokiri, both) with rigorous zeal.
Eventually, as the enslaved Kokiri began deforesting the land, a portion of the clan was sent away, so that their lore would survive if the Outpost were ever found. Cricket was among those chosen to do so.
The seemingly mute Sheikah found his piece of the Triforce just prior to leaving his home. It was a routine trip into the woods, to hunt and forage for food for the first leg of the journey. Dusk was fast approaching, and an angelic blue light in the distance drew him. Cricket found himself staring into the pale light of a crystal shard, listening to a voice he couldn’t quite understand, but instinctively recognized as Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom. The light swelled in intensity and the crystal disappeared, it and the voice becoming part of him.
Cricket felt fundamentally changed, but still fiercely himself. From time to time, he will get little feelings of certainty, as he makes connections that others miss. Hunches, if you will. Cricket has come to trust these frequent flashes of intuition. His first one motivated him toward Oasis.
Skills:
Extensive Stealth Training – Sheikah Rule #1: Don’t be seen, don’t be heard.
Agility Monster – Fast, dexterous lunatic, Cricket is an accomplished acrobat, juggler, and is a devilish little bugger with sleight of hand.
Musically Adept – Plays several instruments proficiently, particularly his fiddle. Reads music and can genuinely feel emotion from the notes.
Intrusion Expert - He’s finding a way in. Locks, traps, dogs, walls, no problem.
Combat Proficiency - Extensively trained in the use of Sheikah weaponry and tactics, though Cricket is most proficient with short blades and thrown items. He has good experience with unarmed fighting and Kokiri tools, and has even taken an interest in Gerudo techniques.
Multi-lingual - Familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Magic:
He summons, and seems to be able to communicate with on a rudimentary level, small chirping insects. There may be more, but his ability to use magic is largely untested.
Gear:
Kodachi (2),
Kunai (12),
Deku Nuts (20),
Bomb Bag (12)
Deku Stick,
Finely crafted fiddle (in case),
Some rations (basic),
large blanket,
pen, ink, and papers in a scroll case
Thin, strong cordage (50 ft)
Firestarters
Various lockpicks, files, and skeleton keys
Backpack
Rupees, 50
Weaknesses:
Mute – Cricket cannot or does not speak, for reasons unknown by most outside of his clan.
Race – Sheikah are distrusted by many, and he cannot hide his appearance short of magic.
For some odd reason, crickets seem to like him. He will often walk out into a clearing in the dead of night, sit down, and play short chirps rhythmically on his fiddle. A truly remarkable chorus of the little guys respond, creating an awe-inspiring nocturnal symphony. He is rarely without one or two on him, who appear to know when he needs to be quiet. They seem to take care of themselves. It is unknown why this phenomenon occurs, or if he has some kind of unconscious control over them. Regardless of why, it has served no actual practical purpose thusfar, aside from being fairly impressive and a little creepy. It earned him his public name. His birth name revealed only to his clan, maybe a trusted few.
Cricket doesn’t speak, communicating with hand gestures, facial expressions, and occasionally his music. He is multi-lingual, being familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Prefers to sleep in trees, rafters, or other high places when possible.
"Shadows", by Lindsey Stirling. I try to imagine the percussion done by rhythmically chirping crickets. |
4,887 | 126 | 19 | 2,421 | 572 | ETZO
Etzo snatched his hand back after the knight finally released it from his grasp, eyes narrowing as he watched the armored man for any further attempts to a cost him. After a few moments however the hylian regained his normal composure, a cramping sensation alerting him to the fact he had unconsciously gripped a vial filled with a rather viscous fluid sitting his robes. Unclenching his grasp, the young alchemist prepared to return to his pleas to have the deku examined when he was once more interrupted.
His eyes lit up a little as he saw the sheikah attempt to gain his attention. He'd seen a handful of the secretive race since coming to Oasis, though he was no stranger to the race having always been excited as a child to see Impa the few times she would come to the home in Kakariko village. He'd attemted to negotiating few times with the ones here, having always heard the warriors would on occasion use poisons and drugs on their missions, but the clans clung tightly to their own secerets.
Etzo was pulled from his thoughts as he saw the note the shiekah trying to draw his attention to the note on the table. Never one to deny his own curiosity, Etzo quickly read through the note, a look of discontent as he saw that his supplies were indeed seemingly in danger. This look was quickly replaced as he saw the report of the creatures attacking, his dreamy smile returning as he marveled at uses he could find with this collection of ingredients, and as luck would have it, they were walking straight to him almost. He didn't particularly relish the idea of entering a skirmish, but those soldiers were damn butchers. Rarely could he find a usable part in the remains they brought back.
Besides, he doubted the men fighting would be likely to bring his bubbles home alive if they found them.
"First of all," Gerik began, "as soon as the supply convoy is rescued we're all going to sit down and have a nice, long discussion about this Triforce business, and what we're actually going to do with these pieces some of you have apparently felt the need to keep hidden. Secondly, I'm in no mood to babysit today, so either make yourselves useful or stay out of the way!"
The scrawny alchemist hesitated a moment, a groan escaping as he saw the knight who had so recently accosted him was coming along, but nevertheless his hand went up, "While I'm not particularly keen on joining the muscle on the field," he said, a hint of excitement raising the pitch of his voice, "it's be a shame to let such a specimen go to waste out there in the dunes, and I while I appreciate the efforts your men put towards protecting us" he said, catious as he continued "they're hardly what one could call precise, so if I could have but a moment to gather some supplies," Etzo continued as he already began edging towards the door "I'll be meeting your men at the gate," the last few words trailing off as he already headed out the door, not waiting to for any form of confirmation from the obviously agitated Gerik. As he made his way back to his workshop, the eccentric alchemist's head was a whirlwinf of activity, already preparing a mental list of supplies he could need. | Name:Etzo
Age:27
Gender:Male
Race:Hylian
Personality: A bit of a scatter brain, Etzo can often leave others in the dust as he jumps from topic to topic, often seeming to have little connection from one to the next. While he can easily lose track of what someone is trying to talk to him about, he rarely seems bothered by this, an easy smile on his face. Many people initially believe him to be an airhead, though he usually is simply distracted by a whirlwind of ideas that race through his mind. However, when brewing, researching, or raining chemicals and bombs on the enemy, Etzo takes on a rather manic manner, the normally easy going Alchemist going a mile a minute.
Background: Etzo had always believed he would live a shut in life, having been born in Kakariko village, growing up there, and finally becoming apprenticed to the potion brewer who live there . Days passed as he spent his time alternating between stocking the shelves and constantly surrounding himself in massive piles of books and failed experiments.
He found little changed to his daily life as Ganondorf waged his war, the only divergence being an increase in his time making supplies for his mentor as the refugees seemed to flood the town. While he was aware that the war continued beyond his village, as long as it didn't interrupt his research he could care less. Leave the heroics to the adventurers.
Unfortunately he had little choice in the matter, fate deeming he join the fray regardless of wether he wished it or not. Shortly after tell of the Hero and Zelda's fall, a simpe task of gathering mushrooms for brewing from the village's cemetery changed the young rookie alchemists path, finding a strange golden fragment laying in the soft earth of the grave of The Composer Brothers. Seemingly as soon as he touched it, the Fragment of Wisdom merged with Etzo, and suddenly the charts and graphs listing his many failed concoctions made him almost laugh. So many a night spent toiling, and now the answers seemed so embarrasingly simple. The next few days seemed to blur, the doors to his home shut to all as strange lights and smells eked out of the houses shutters and chimney.
It was only as the door to his Home began to crack did he hear the screams as the first wave of Gannondorf's forces by sheer strength a town that had stood for 7 years in the face of the growing tyrant. His body seemed to move of its own accord, mixing chemicals as quicker than the moblins soilders could break the door.
Finally as they brought the door down, they found a scrawny Hylian with a manic gaze staring down the pig like creatures. Drinking a glowing yellow liquid he couldn't remeber making, time suddenly slowed to a crawl as he watched the moblins gather themselves and continue into the house. Ducking behind one of the many massive iron pots for brewing he had, Etzo tossed a pair of bubbling vials towards the group, closing his eyes and covering his ears in preperation. After a cacophony of sound and light emitted from the home, a few moments passed before the manic brewer stepped out, the tail of his robes smoking and charred.
While most of that night after is a blurred mix of screaming, burning and explosions; some his and others from diffrent sources, the last thing he remebers is finding himself being loaded into a cart by leaving the village, one of the last to leave for Oasis.
Since arriving at the Resistance, Etzo has found it quite easy to make himself useful, sending cauldrons of healing and magic potions with the troops as they skirmish with Gannondorf's troops. His housing has since been separated slightly from most other residences, in order to avoid collateral damage. He can either be found taking down a list for needed supplies, tinkering with the next Revelation for the Revolution, or down at the bars getting wasted.
Skills:
-Archery: While he'd rather be chucking bombs, Etzo is a decent hand at throwing bolts at the enemies, having taken a few runs at the archery courses the women of the Gerudo tribe have set up since moving to Oasis.
-Healthcare: In an effort to avoid wasting resources, Etzo has some basic treatment skills, able to handle most non-life threating wounds on the field.
-Knowledge of Fauna and Flora: Research into the various uses of plants and animals for brewing purposes has at least in theory made him familiar with most of the denizens of Hyrule.
Magic:
-Alchemy: From his training back in Kakariko village, Etzo has a handy grasp on the chemistry behind simple healing potions, as well as magic potions for those that can make use of them. Aside from the old favorites, he is constant finding new effects to try out on the troops.
Aside from potions, he is well versed in putting together various explosives, lately becoming something of a demolitions expert during the war. He believes he could even make elemental explosions, though a lack of resources has made this only theory for the moment.
Gear:
-Bandolier: Leather strap across his chest holds a myriad of concoctions, all labeled in chicken scratch than few besides himself can discern.
-Portable Alchemy Kit: While he won't be making any miracle concoctions out in the the field, Etzo can throw together a decent healing salve with the right supplies, or a simple bomb if need be.
-Empty Bottles: For all your potion holding needs, also good for holding interesting specimen found in the field. Rumor says with enough skill, one could use them to turn evils own power against them.
-Large Bomb Bag: Where else is an alchemist supposed to keep his explosives.
-Heavy Crossbow: fitted to fire bolts in most cases, Etzo has designed a launching mechanism to send various concoctions at enemies. It's quiver holds about 20-25 bolts.
-Light Armor:While in battle Etzo fits himself an under layer of hardened sectioned leather, mostly focused in vital areas such as the chest and other areas.
-Backpack: Large pack made to safely hold all the various materials an alchemist on the go.
-100ft of Rope: What can't you use rope for.
-Wallet: For when you get tired of showing off your Rupees.
Weaknesses:
-Lack of Martial Training: While Etzo understands the theory of many martial skills, he'd had little training in these regards. While he can buff himself up with various concoctions, this is only a temporary and risky alternative to actual training.
-Absent Minded: The constant rush of theorys and fascination with new things makes Etzo rather open to suprises, often when not on gaurd rarely aware of people until they have made themselves apparent...multiple times.
-Low Alcohol Tolerance: Etzo is something of a light weight when it comes to drinking, which wouldn't be a problem, except if he isn't brewing, doing research, or within throwing range of a battle, he's more than likely at the nearest pub. |
4,888 | 126 | 20 | 1,180 | 1,981 | Yuri
Resistance HQ
Early Morning
As soon as the foreigner grabbed her wrist, the Deku woman was incredibly tempted to redirect his force and allow his face to get acquainted with the ground. But that would most definitely jeopardize trade operations, so she simply struggled slightly to let him know that he was being incredibly stupid. As soon as she let the both of them go, she disregarded him with a sneer and began to walk over to a table near her. A man too, walked up to the table. He looked like a sheikah, from what she had seen of them, but his outfit seemed almost reminiscent of Yuri's dreaded enemy, the Kokiri. Still, she was sure he was just a sheikah with odd taste and didn't bring anything up, instead focusing on the note he placed on the table, and the soft glow of the triforce on his hand. How many people had a piece of the triforce? Were the pieces drawn to one another? Would the resistance even need her piece?
She quickly read the note. A trade caravan was under attack? It was lead by a fellow Deku, no doubt. She wondered idly if people like these were able to take on 25 others in a combat. Her thoughts were interrupted with the booming voice of Gerik, who 'asked' the foreigner to stay and wait for the rest of the platoon. He also said that he was 'in no mood to babysit' so if Yuri wanted to sell her Piece of Wisdom, she'd have to wait until the discussion after the mission. She sighed in disappointment. She should probably help these guys out. She doubted that they would survive without her, and even if they did, she'd have to wait until they got back to reason with Gerik. It certainly would be more interesting to follow the soldiers, and she was sure there were going to be spare weapons able to be refurbished and sold at a later date. Still, she wished she had the good fortune to have been smuggling knives of some kind.
While the woman was absorbed in thought, it appeared the ninja had brought the group bread. Yuri smiled a tad, before breaking off a piece and stuffing it in her mouth. She hadn't had breakfast yet, so she was very glad for it. "Many thanks, sheikah. Do you have a name? I'm Yuri, the merchant. I've traded with this resistance a few times. I wouldn't be surprised if that staff you have there was brought here by yours truly." She rambled. Hopefully he was proficient with said staff. She was unsure how well this little mission was going to go. | Name: Yuri
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Race: Deku
Personality: A sly and cunning woman, always looking for somebody to swindle or force into a purchase. She is a natural risk taker. She does not trust people, and likes to appear mysterious to others. Despite this, she is surprisingly convincing, and is prone to bursts of emotion. She is frugal, understanding money's value and power. She is also kind of a loner, even if she speaks fairly frequently.
Likes
Money
Travel
Booze
Gambling
Dancing
Sweets
Dislikes
Smart people
Poor people
Kokiri
Water
Cuccos
Salty Foods
Background: Yuri has lived a fairly normal life. Even during the Seven Year War, the Deku people were safely hidden in the Lost Wood. Yuri was being groomed to be a proper Merchant, like her father before her, and his father before him. But business was different now. The roads were crowded with monsters and bandits were prominent. Yuri's father insisted on teaching his daughter self defense. He bought her a knife, and taught her how to use it. This proved to be a good idea.
News spread quickly of the Hero's return, even to the hidden Deku people. This brought much joy and hope to the Deku people that they may return to normal trade and ascend from half the population from being in poverty. As the days went by, less monsters crowded the roads, and more trading was done. But eventually, more monsters returned. Quickly after, the Kokiri, who were currently debating another trade disagreement with the Deku, were attacked and slaughtered, the survivors becoming enslaved. The King informed his people that they would begin trade with Ganon, as to entice the gerudo to let them live.
It was about this time Yuri began working in the mercantile business. One day, while she was smuggling goods to the Deku Palace, she encountered a man. He was a poor Hylian, obviously harried and hurt. He told her that, when Ganon had defeated Zelda and Link, the pieces of the Triforce weren't obtained by Ganon, but instead broken and spread across the land. The man looked poor and foolish, so Yuri disregarded him. But soon after, some of Ganon's men came to the Deku capital looking for something. Yuri, always one to make a deal, started accosting the men to make a purchase. Surely, she had what they wanted. Unwittingly, they tipped her off to the existence of the Triforce fragments. Imagine the deal she could make off of that!
She began following the underground trail of rumors and hearsay until she encountered a man. Said man had no money to pay for the ornate, antique bow and arrows he wanted, but was willing to trade some info. The location of a Triforce fragment. Hesitantly, she gave the man the weapon, but as soon as she did, he raced out of the shop. It seemed he bought the bow as a means to obtain the power himself. Yuri too, raced for it. For a day and a night, she rode by horseback to an old ranch where a soldier of Ganon lay in wait. He seemed to not know what he had, and Yuri was just barely able to swindle it out of him, having to give him all of the rupees she had on her. She, of course, got them back with her trusty boomerang as soon as he was far enough away though.
As she held the rock in her hand, it felt as though she was getting smarter every second. Quickly, she squeezed it into her palm and absorbed it. Just in time for the bowman to appear. As soon as they saw each other, he began to nock an arrow from the quiver, killer intent visible in his eye. But somehow, even though Yuri barely ever got into fights, she knew exactly what to do. She dodged his arrows with ease, and managed to strike him down. Though she originally planned to sell the rock to the highest bidder, it may have been a better idea to keep it. For now, she would make her way to Oasis to see how much people would pay for Wisdom as great as this.
Skills:
Merchantry - Like most Dekus, Yuri's main business is, well, business. She knows a deal when she sees it, and knows how to get people to want what she's sellings. She's also savvy of black market deals, and is great at smuggling.
Basic Self Defense - Though Yuri is by no means a good fighter, she does know how to defend herself with her small blade.
Gliding - Yuri has two propeller flowers, and can use deku flowers to launch herself upwards, or glide with them.
Magic:
Magic Bubble - Yuri can shoot a bubble made of magic, like most Dekus.
Gear:
A small blade Yuri keeps concealed in her long robe.
A simply wooden boomerang, able to stun enemies without helmets.
A small chainmail shirt hidden under her merchant's robe.
Weaknesses:
Can't Swim - Due to her Deku physiology, Yuri can't swim.
Inexperienced - Yuri is not properly trained in combat. |
4,889 | 126 | 21 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Cricket
Location: Oasis, Resistance HQInteracting With: Yuri
The young Sheikah smiled broadly at his new acquaintance, then promptly shoved a large chunk of date bread into his mouth. With hands now free, he hefted his resin bonded Deku Staff, regarding Yuri's assumptions on the item. He shook his head slowly, motioning to imply a far distance. Though it would be bad form to reveal to the exact nature of the item (let alone functionally impossible without getting pen and paper involved), any close inspection of the staff by someone familiar with either Kokiri or Sheikah craftsmanship would reveal clues atypical to an otherwise standard tool of its kind. But it would have to be a close inspection.
Still chewing, he returned his flexible but solid wooden pole to its previous resting spot. For half a second, the nonvocal warrior caught an expression, as if his brain just hiccuped and he had forgotten something obvious and pressing.
A look of realization crossed his features. He shook his head foolishly, stark white hair swishing noiselessly about his eyes. With a careful flourish, he held a hand out, palm up, in front of Yuri. A small black cricket hopped from his sleeve onto his outstretched hand chirped twice, and turned to look back at the Sheikah. In response, the Sheikah looked to Yuri, pointed at the cricket, and then at himself. He repeated the process, nodding.
When he was sure the message got across, Cricket retracted his hand and sliced off another chunk of date bread. No sense marching and fighting on an empty stomach, after all. | Name: Cricket
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Sheikah (Sheikiri?)
Appearance:
Cricket is of average height and lean, with thick white hair, tawny skin, and wiry muscle. His eyes are his most striking feature, red and very expressive, with three triangles tattooed above and a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. His style of dress is distinctive, combining elements of Kokiri and Sheikah attire, mostly colored black with an extra scarf-like bit around his neck that acts as a half mask when necessary. Cricket’s ears are pierced in three places each with small, simple gold rings. A brown hooded coat covers most everything. This is good because he is generally covered with kunai daggers, and two particularly large and nasty blades: Sheikah kodachi. The last two are worn openly. He carries a simple, utilitarian backpack that looks like it is made of tree bark.
Personality:
In contrast to the reputation of his people, Cricket is warm and friendly, and just a bit of a showoff. When he’s on the clock, however, he’s all business and no emotion. This has caused people to wonder if he has a split personality, and this is exacerbated by his lack of speech. He adores music, either performing or listening to it.
Background:
Leave it to the Sheikah to have a Plan B. Kakariko was destroyed, but not everyone was present for the massacre. There was an Outpost, hidden carefully in the Kokiri Forest with the permission of the Great Deku Tree. It had been around for a long time, its existence kept secret from any non-Sheikah. The Kokiri in the area were aware of the presence of Sheikah elsewhere in their forest, but the exact location of the Outpost was still unknown. Cricket was born into the clan of Sheikah that ran this outpost.
The two peoples, Sheikah and Kokiri, were more than a little wary of each other at first, but over time they came to be allies. The Kokiri helped them adapt to the ways of the forest and attune their skills to their new environment, and in return the Sheikah very quietly helped defend their patch of earth and trees. As time passed, the cultures diffused, resulting in a more forest-running and musical clan of Sheikah, skilled in the use of Kokiri tools in addition to their own.
But back to Cricket: His clan was part of a networking hub, running goods, people, weapons, supplies, and most importantly, information. News of the various occurrences reached him because he was part of the clan spreading it. A few of the Sheikah survivors took to the Kokiri Outpost, as it was an unknown location from which they could regroup. From the point of Hero’s Fall onward, the Sheikah of the Outpost dedicated themselves to training for war. Cricket was barely before adulthood when all of this mess started, and he dedicated himself to his training (Sheikah and Kokiri, both) with rigorous zeal.
Eventually, as the enslaved Kokiri began deforesting the land, a portion of the clan was sent away, so that their lore would survive if the Outpost were ever found. Cricket was among those chosen to do so.
The seemingly mute Sheikah found his piece of the Triforce just prior to leaving his home. It was a routine trip into the woods, to hunt and forage for food for the first leg of the journey. Dusk was fast approaching, and an angelic blue light in the distance drew him. Cricket found himself staring into the pale light of a crystal shard, listening to a voice he couldn’t quite understand, but instinctively recognized as Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom. The light swelled in intensity and the crystal disappeared, it and the voice becoming part of him.
Cricket felt fundamentally changed, but still fiercely himself. From time to time, he will get little feelings of certainty, as he makes connections that others miss. Hunches, if you will. Cricket has come to trust these frequent flashes of intuition. His first one motivated him toward Oasis.
Skills:
Extensive Stealth Training – Sheikah Rule #1: Don’t be seen, don’t be heard.
Agility Monster – Fast, dexterous lunatic, Cricket is an accomplished acrobat, juggler, and is a devilish little bugger with sleight of hand.
Musically Adept – Plays several instruments proficiently, particularly his fiddle. Reads music and can genuinely feel emotion from the notes.
Intrusion Expert - He’s finding a way in. Locks, traps, dogs, walls, no problem.
Combat Proficiency - Extensively trained in the use of Sheikah weaponry and tactics, though Cricket is most proficient with short blades and thrown items. He has good experience with unarmed fighting and Kokiri tools, and has even taken an interest in Gerudo techniques.
Multi-lingual - Familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Magic:
He summons, and seems to be able to communicate with on a rudimentary level, small chirping insects. There may be more, but his ability to use magic is largely untested.
Gear:
Kodachi (2),
Kunai (12),
Deku Nuts (20),
Bomb Bag (12)
Deku Stick,
Finely crafted fiddle (in case),
Some rations (basic),
large blanket,
pen, ink, and papers in a scroll case
Thin, strong cordage (50 ft)
Firestarters
Various lockpicks, files, and skeleton keys
Backpack
Rupees, 50
Weaknesses:
Mute – Cricket cannot or does not speak, for reasons unknown by most outside of his clan.
Race – Sheikah are distrusted by many, and he cannot hide his appearance short of magic.
For some odd reason, crickets seem to like him. He will often walk out into a clearing in the dead of night, sit down, and play short chirps rhythmically on his fiddle. A truly remarkable chorus of the little guys respond, creating an awe-inspiring nocturnal symphony. He is rarely without one or two on him, who appear to know when he needs to be quiet. They seem to take care of themselves. It is unknown why this phenomenon occurs, or if he has some kind of unconscious control over them. Regardless of why, it has served no actual practical purpose thusfar, aside from being fairly impressive and a little creepy. It earned him his public name. His birth name revealed only to his clan, maybe a trusted few.
Cricket doesn’t speak, communicating with hand gestures, facial expressions, and occasionally his music. He is multi-lingual, being familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Prefers to sleep in trees, rafters, or other high places when possible.
"Shadows", by Lindsey Stirling. I try to imagine the percussion done by rhythmically chirping crickets. |
4,890 | 126 | 22 | 2,786 | 800 | The Stalfos' sword rang on his shield, and he feinted to make it raise its own. Then he spun and ducked, his blade sweeping through the beast's leg and shattering everything below the knee as if it were made of dust. But in the process, his own blade, already chipped, snapped near its middle. He paid it no heed; as the Stalfos fell down he surged up, driving the makeshift dagger under and through its chin, all the way to the hilt. The broken blade burst through the top of the leering skull, and the unholy light in its eyes died away. He couldn't wrench his blade back out, and let it fall with the monster.
"Sir!" the voice rang out, and he turned. But the sun's glare was strong, as strong as it might be in the desert lands--fitting--and his face was hidden by the flare as the younger knight looked up at him.
"He's heading for the Temple of Time, sir! We have to stop him!"
"We will." A voice that he couldn't place, his own. "Stand strong--we'll regroup in the square, and make a push towards the temple!"
"Ugh, he's heavy..." said one of the two Shiekah following Rath. It was rare for them to ever complain, but it had finally happened after carrying the Knight's unconscious form betwixt them all the way from the Colossus to Oasis. Though he still gripped the ReDead Knight's sword like a vice, the rest of him had gone limp as a rag, and combined with the weight of his powerful form and the armor over it, it made him a burdensome load indeed.
"Oasis is just over the next dune. Careful--if he gets near one of the other fragment bearers, the resonance may wake him. We don't know how he'll react yet." Rath instructed them. Wearily the other two readjusted their grip and heaved the Knight up once more, his black armor growing hot on their hands in the sun.
They entered Oasis now, and headed straight for the headquarters. The refugees and rebels out and about on the business of their daily life stopped to stare at the black clad figure. What manner of monster corpse had Rath brought back? But then, someone saw the crest of Hyrule emblazoned upon the armor, and realized of course that it was armor, and not scales or hard skin. A Knight of Hyrule? But with armor so black, and an appearance so tattered, and the other Knights all dead or fled...could it really be? The rumor mill began to grind, but Rath paid little attention to it. Instead he approached the headquarters, taking note of a second knight--this one of a foreign land, Labyrnna. If Rath recalled, he was one of the few who held another piece of the Triforce Fragments. The Shiekah held out his arm to stop the other two in their tracks, but it was too late.
The Knight's right hand began to glow. So did the crystal shard hanging around Sigurd's neck.
The Knight, splayed on his back across the backs of the two Shiekah, did not move at first. His visor, gone dark, simply stared up at the sun. Then the fearsome red light from within awakened, flaring up like a fire brought back to life from blackened coals.
"ARRRHH!"
He suddenly kicked out, and pushed on the backs of those holding him at the same time. As they stumbled forward he vaulted to the sand, sinking and stumbling at first as his feet met the unexpected surface. He turned in circles, head making wide sweeps, as he took in his surroundings. The desert? Gerudo?! HIS people!?
"GAAAANNOOOOOOOOON!!" The first intelligible word, yet it too came as a roar of rage and hatred so intense it shook his own armored plates. | Name:
???; "The Knight"
Age:
Mid-twenties
Gender:
Male
Race:
Hylian
Appearance:
The Knight(The drawing is my own, please do not steal) once wore bright armor and a tabard bearing the colors and sigil of the Royal Family. There were once a mantle and cape to gracefully done his shoulders, and once a half skirt to make his movements appear smooth and flowing and give an air of regality. Once, he bore a youthful exuberance and a disciplined posture.
Now his armor has been blackened and twisted, cruel spikes rising from the metal on his arms and helm. The cape, mantle, and skirt have been ripped asunder, mail has cracked. Though the plate steel still holds a dull luster, and though the crest of Hyrule is still engraved upon his cuirass, none could ever think this bestial knight, whose gauntlets have turned to claws and who moves with a feral crouch where once he stood proud, to be anything but a monster. The red, unnatural glow from beneath his visor has lost its dignity, and become an ever growing furnace of rage.
Personality:
The Knight is ruled by two things: Rage, and the Code of Chivalry. Which one rules at any one moment is a hazardous guess at best.
Devoted to the destruction of Ganon and anything that stems from him, the knight will howl, snarl, and single-mindedly destroy until he reaches his goals. He still knows the meaning of retreat, though it must always be from necessity, never from fear. He lacks true tactical ability, but has a predator's instinct and cunning. Still, he would much rather openly challenge the forces of evil and bathe in their blood than he would slink like a wolf through the shadows. Outside of battle, the Knight often seems a blank canvas. He is still, almost tranquil, though he shivers as if in anticipation...or as if he can barely contain himself. Yet he seems to bring no harm to those he recognizes as allies...still, much like any wild animal, his actions are uncertain and often his purpose cannot be grasped by the rational mind.
Background:
Once the Knight was a man born to low nobility, to a line of proud--if not wealthy--warriors. Yet in training he showed both aptitude and zeal, and in time surpassed expectation and potential. A loyal and faithful servant of the crown, he won glory in the tournaments and fame on the field.
Yet all of that, save one last moment, has been forgotten. All of his former life now lies shrouded in shadows, and only the final memory before his transformation remains.
The Battle of Castle Town--the final stepping stone towards Ganondorf's ascent to godhood. The forest boy, in whom the Princess saw a Hero, entered the Temple of Time with three Sacred Treasures. He had accomplished great feats to attain them, and even if he were not the child of destiny already the land was beginning to sing his praises. Perhaps, had things played out differently, he too would have attained knighthood, and they would have fought as allies. Alas; the seal holding the Master Sword was undone. The child had proved his worth, and drawn the ancient blade. He became master of Evil's Bane, yet he was only a boy. And so he was whisked away by magics to a place unknown, and protected. The way to the Golden Realm now lay opened, and its golden, radiant light shone through a portal into a pristine realm.
Into that light, Ganondorf took his last steps as a mortal man. With the Gerudo King's treachery revealed, the Knights of Hyrule were assembled. But Ganondorf's followers were ready to meet them, and the city became a battleground. Though their princess had been seen safely away, Ganondorf had already begun to slay the soldiers as they sought to slow his pursuit. One of the Knight's friends died in a back alley, the last to see the boy in green before he took those fateful steps into the Temple of Time. In the battle that followed, where the knights set out to defend Castle Town as Ganondorf lay seige to it in order to follow the Hero into the Sacred Realm, the dark lord left fire and blood in his wake. He ascended the steps and entered the portal.
The Knight followed. He bled from a dozen wounds, and both sword and shield had shattered. Yet with trembling legs he climbed the stairs, his life's blood dying the velvet carpet a deeper shade. It was too late. From the realm of light, now only shadows poured forth. But Ganondorf still lay beyond. He could not rest until he had destroyed that foul creature. On his honor, on his pride, for the good of the realm, for the sake of the princess...even for the hope of the boy in green. The Knight stepped into the darkness.
Though he had always been a good and just man, in his heart lay the seeds of darkness. This was nothing, in and of itself--such a thing exists in all who tread the mortal coil. It does not define them. Yet those seeds had become coals in a white hot, seething fire called hatred. He hated Ganondorf. He hated the monsters whom had come to the dark one's aid. He hated his own weakness. The Dark World--the former Sacred Realm twisted by Ganondorf, now Ganon, and his influence--seized upon that hatred, that curling tendril of darkness inside him, and pulled it out. His body was torn asunder, then sewn back together. He was twisted, and blackened by the flames of his own fury. Split between his knighthood and beasthood, his new form drove him mad. Still he would not give in; still he desired to find the King of Darkness, and destroy him.
For seven years, he treaded the shadows. For seven years, he fought among a landscape of tangled trees with gnarled faces, upon fallow, cursed soil. He fought with all manner of monsters, who had once been men. He overcame trials and challenges. Yet always, always in the darkness, always in the shadows, groping and crawling and clawing his way forward. Until he found the light.
How had it come to him? How had it passed through this place, uncorrupted? He could not know, or even wonder. All he could do was reach for the light, grasp it, and feel Courage flow into him. It brought with it the scent of the forest, just like the child in green...but also blood, and the unmistakable pang of parting with a dear and treasured friend.
The Knight rose yet again, and with Courage lighting his way, he began to fight his way back along the paths hidden in the shadows...
Skills:
Knight's Training: The Knight is highly efficient in all the standard training regiments of Hyrule's Royal Army. This includes certain special skills such as the Ending Blow.
Weapon Skills: In addition to the standard martial arms trained by the Knights of Hyrule, in his previous life the Knight also practiced with less common weapons such as axes and flails.
Proficient in Armor: The Knight has been trained to run, fight, and even mount a horse while in armor, and his gear is specific to his measurements. It doesn't impede his movement nearly as much as it might another.
Magic:
None Yet
Gear:
Plate Armor: Like all true knights, this armor was made specifically to the wearer's measurements and preferences, and despite the myths of "clunky and slow" armor it has as much range of motion as the body inside it. It weighs roughly 25 kilograms, and consists of various plate pieces over thick underclothes, with some chainmail covering the most exposed places. The fittings are of supple leather and adjustable buckles, while other leather bits in the joints are of thicker stuff that can still absorb blows and hold back blades.
Weaknesses:
Madness - The Knight, though he is still guided by what little memories of his former life and his strong spirit that remains, is indeed truly berserk. His behavior, even among allies, is highly unpredictable and he cannot be counted on as anything more than a body on the battlefield.
Inability to Speak - The Knight's mind is so fractured that he cannot form coherent communication, and he must rely on body language and gestures.
Obsession - The Knight will take any opportunity that presents itself to attack Ganon or his forces, regardless of strategic significance. He will only retreat under the threat of death, and even then only to give his wounds the minimal treatment before charging back into the fray.
Cannot Swim - The Knight seems unable to completely remove his armor, and thus sinks like a stone in water. |
4,891 | 126 | 23 | 2,159 | 3,792 | Sigurd
Oasis Resistance
Sigurd simply stood patiently outside of the headquarters, leaning against the wall beside the doors, watching the horizon. Despite dire circumstances calling everyone to action and soon to depart for the fortress, based on the noise inside it was rather cheery. Suppose especially during dark times such as this, some light-heartedness was needed most. He silently stood outside waiting for the commander to signal that it was time to go, as it seems most everyone was here.
He stood up straight. A curious sight on the horizon, entrance of the village... At first it looked like a Sheikah patrol dragging some kind of monster based on the black heap, but as it got closer, he recognized that this was in fact a person, or at least, shaped like one. As soon as they got close, the person was then identified as a knight, based on the armor. It was black, charred, or corrupted, but one thing stood out, still gold and brilliant was the symbol of Hyrule, if not a little scratched, identifying him as a Hylian knight. Just what did they make those Hylian armors and shields out of...?
Sigurd immediately took a battle stance out of habit, grabbing the hilt of his giant blade on his back, ready to bring it out as the black knight struggled, and let out a primal roar. The first intelligible word he spoke was "Ganon", albeit a lot louder and stressed. Ganon... Yes he knew who that was, as did everyone here. The dark lord that caused this chaos and ruin. So his enemy was Ganon as well. Even as the knight simply yelled, even Sigurd felt it, the fury and hatred... At the same time though, he felt a golden light and warmth around his chest... The piece of the triforce was reacting? He spotted a golden glow on the knight's hand... Did this knight have another piece as well?
"Hold knight! We are not your enemy...", wherever they found this guy, he seemed to be quite insane. Was it wise to bring him here? Maybe it was... He may have a piece of the Triforce after all. What was with today... One after another, people with a piece of the Triforce showing up... Still. If they could reason with this knight, he may prove a valuable ally in a fight in the future... | Name: Sigurd
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Labrynian
Appearance:
Personality: A focused individual whose mind's sharpness is only rivaled by his blade. Despite the way he handles himself, and being a man of action, he is quite the scholar and thinker, even in the heat of battle, which gives him an advantage over particular foes. He enjoys both the arts and history, and has some knowledge of ancient languages, but is no expert on them. Unlike most of his knight colleagues back at home, he took to scholarly pursuits just as often as he took to martial pursuits, making him a well-rounded warrior. He despises cowardice, but values knowing when to retreat, he rarely wishes to get involved with matters that do not pertain to him, but if it is something he cannot stand, or if he just happens to feel like it on a whim, he may engage.
Background: A knight in service of the current queen ruling in Labrynna, he was from a family of knights and was raised as such. Labrynna was in a time of peace, but for eight years it began to suffer increased monster attacks, which urged his training on more. Eventually he would finally be knighted, and led many defenses against monsters since then. He has traveled far in the name of Labrynna's royalty for years, until he would find that envoys sent to Hyrule were not returning. They normally did trade with the sister country far beyond, but for years they found those roads dead silent, and filled with monsters. Armed escorts were not enough, this wasn't a simple monster outbreak.
Finally, the queen sent Sigurd to investigate, along with a small retinue of knights to accompany him. On the road to Hyrule they were attacked relentlessly by monsters, but finally reached Hyrule after a few days. It was then they learned that the kingdom had fallen. When they investigated, they had found that a place called the "Oasis" was a final bastion for this place, and so he and the knights made their way there.
They encountered what appeared to be a Sheikah patrol, who would lead the group to the Oasis. After a brief visit and inquiry, the knights had learned what had happened to Hyrule, and would set out the following morning to inform their queen.
On their way home however, Darknuts and Stalfos blocked their way, and many of the knights were killed, all but two, Sigurd himself, and one of his colleagues, who he would cover the way for, sending his colleague away to inform the queen while he bought time for his escape, as he was the only one among the two who could possibly hold this force off on their own. After a gruelling battle, and overexpending his magical capacities would damage them and ensure he cannot use magic for a good amount of time, he was on his last legs. When all hope seemed lost, a golden speck of light entered his view, and lowered itself on his open hand... A tiny golden shard...? He knew not what it was, but suddenly he could see the way the knights moved. It did not give him strength, but it gave him the means to efficiently use what little he had left, and with it, he would defeat the monster force. He would collapse there, until a Sheikah patrol would find him and bring him back to Oasis where he would recover.
Upon recovery he set out to find out what this little golden shard that granted him salvation was, and perhaps they were some kind of key to upturning the ruination of this land. Unfortunately, his magical capacity was weak, having been damaged after being overused, but he felt them slowly recover. He heard of what these things were... The Triforce. A legendary artifact, even some scriptures in Labrynna would reference it. For him to come across a piece of it... There must be some duty that the goddesses had entrusted to him.
Skills:
Master Swordsman: Even before taking his oath as a knight, he was a skilled swordsman, wielding a giant two handed blade with incredible skill and speed. He uses the weight of the weapon to keep himself moving while attacking, lending him to large sweeping spinning strikes, but at the same time allows him to move quickly.
Martial Prowess: Despite the way he uses his weapon, he has incredible strength, letting him do decent damage with mere punches, kicks and grapples.
Labrynna Knight: His training as a knight of Labrynna has allowed him to move effectively in his armor, as well as taught him the use of shields, even though he rarely uses them.
Scouting: Basic military requirement was he learn to scout. This allows him to spot incoming threats or identify objects or people from further away.
Tactician: He has knowledge of warfare, mostly from books, though it is largely untested.
Commander: As a head knight, he has experience in leading men.
Arcane Warrior: Sigurd has a pursuit of weapon magic, which allows him to imbue the weapons he wields with magical properties for devastating attacks, or a simple buff.
Magic:
Dragon Spin Attack: The spin attack has been a powerful sword art for generations, and people who could not master the original that the Hylian Knights use, would go on to make a version that they could use. This is Sigurd's, a sweeping spin attack with jumps and travels across the battlefield like an acrobatic dance. This attack uses an absurd amount of his energy though.
Gear:
Labrynna Greatsword: A gigantic blade made specifically for Sigurd, it has the Ages insignia on it.
Labrynna Knight Elite Armor: An ornate armor with a slim design. It uses a plated mesh in place of chainmail in some areas, and has the blue cloak symbolic of Labrynna. Classed as a medium armor, but the plated mesh gives it better protection than chainmail, but worse than plate, while maintaining the lightness of a medium armor.
Weaknesses: Sigurd wields incredible destructive power, the combination of any of his War Magic and Dragon Spin Attack can swiftly dispatch of groups of even powerful foes in moments, but it leaves him open to attack should it not succeed. Generally wielding the two handed blade makes his attacks slow yet far reaching, someone who can get inside his range with a faster weapon would have better luck fighting him. At the moment he's unable to use magic effectively, but at his full strength he is a force to be reckoned with. |
4,892 | 126 | 24 | 2,786 | 800 | The Knight stopped and turned, facing Sigurd in a half crouch. When he saw the man's hand on the greatsword's hilt, the Knight growled deep in his throat and flexed his claws. But the man insisted he was not an enemy. And the Knight felt...drawn towards him.
He held up his right hand. The warmth of the golden triangle shining there seemed to spread into him, calming and soothing. He looked from Sigurd, to his hand, then back to the other knight. Then he caught sight of the glow coming from Sigurd's own triforce piece. And, from within the building behind him, the Knight felt...others. As more pieces were gathered, the resonance grew stronger, as if the fragments were calling to each other, echoing the cry back and forth.
The Knight finally stood straight. He lifted the ReDead's sword, and turned it towards Sigurd. Still his throat bubbled with a barely constrained, bestial sound.
Then, whirling the blade, he performed the traditional Knight's Salute before using the bandages wrapped around the weapon to lash it to his back, in a manner similar to Sigurd's own.
He turned and started towards the HQ building. He still moved in that half crouch, as if he were a big cat slinking through the jungle. His head turned from side to side, and snuffling noises could be heard from inside the helm. He approached the door to the building and, after reaching out tentatively and looking over his shoulder, pushed it open. | Name:
???; "The Knight"
Age:
Mid-twenties
Gender:
Male
Race:
Hylian
Appearance:
The Knight(The drawing is my own, please do not steal) once wore bright armor and a tabard bearing the colors and sigil of the Royal Family. There were once a mantle and cape to gracefully done his shoulders, and once a half skirt to make his movements appear smooth and flowing and give an air of regality. Once, he bore a youthful exuberance and a disciplined posture.
Now his armor has been blackened and twisted, cruel spikes rising from the metal on his arms and helm. The cape, mantle, and skirt have been ripped asunder, mail has cracked. Though the plate steel still holds a dull luster, and though the crest of Hyrule is still engraved upon his cuirass, none could ever think this bestial knight, whose gauntlets have turned to claws and who moves with a feral crouch where once he stood proud, to be anything but a monster. The red, unnatural glow from beneath his visor has lost its dignity, and become an ever growing furnace of rage.
Personality:
The Knight is ruled by two things: Rage, and the Code of Chivalry. Which one rules at any one moment is a hazardous guess at best.
Devoted to the destruction of Ganon and anything that stems from him, the knight will howl, snarl, and single-mindedly destroy until he reaches his goals. He still knows the meaning of retreat, though it must always be from necessity, never from fear. He lacks true tactical ability, but has a predator's instinct and cunning. Still, he would much rather openly challenge the forces of evil and bathe in their blood than he would slink like a wolf through the shadows. Outside of battle, the Knight often seems a blank canvas. He is still, almost tranquil, though he shivers as if in anticipation...or as if he can barely contain himself. Yet he seems to bring no harm to those he recognizes as allies...still, much like any wild animal, his actions are uncertain and often his purpose cannot be grasped by the rational mind.
Background:
Once the Knight was a man born to low nobility, to a line of proud--if not wealthy--warriors. Yet in training he showed both aptitude and zeal, and in time surpassed expectation and potential. A loyal and faithful servant of the crown, he won glory in the tournaments and fame on the field.
Yet all of that, save one last moment, has been forgotten. All of his former life now lies shrouded in shadows, and only the final memory before his transformation remains.
The Battle of Castle Town--the final stepping stone towards Ganondorf's ascent to godhood. The forest boy, in whom the Princess saw a Hero, entered the Temple of Time with three Sacred Treasures. He had accomplished great feats to attain them, and even if he were not the child of destiny already the land was beginning to sing his praises. Perhaps, had things played out differently, he too would have attained knighthood, and they would have fought as allies. Alas; the seal holding the Master Sword was undone. The child had proved his worth, and drawn the ancient blade. He became master of Evil's Bane, yet he was only a boy. And so he was whisked away by magics to a place unknown, and protected. The way to the Golden Realm now lay opened, and its golden, radiant light shone through a portal into a pristine realm.
Into that light, Ganondorf took his last steps as a mortal man. With the Gerudo King's treachery revealed, the Knights of Hyrule were assembled. But Ganondorf's followers were ready to meet them, and the city became a battleground. Though their princess had been seen safely away, Ganondorf had already begun to slay the soldiers as they sought to slow his pursuit. One of the Knight's friends died in a back alley, the last to see the boy in green before he took those fateful steps into the Temple of Time. In the battle that followed, where the knights set out to defend Castle Town as Ganondorf lay seige to it in order to follow the Hero into the Sacred Realm, the dark lord left fire and blood in his wake. He ascended the steps and entered the portal.
The Knight followed. He bled from a dozen wounds, and both sword and shield had shattered. Yet with trembling legs he climbed the stairs, his life's blood dying the velvet carpet a deeper shade. It was too late. From the realm of light, now only shadows poured forth. But Ganondorf still lay beyond. He could not rest until he had destroyed that foul creature. On his honor, on his pride, for the good of the realm, for the sake of the princess...even for the hope of the boy in green. The Knight stepped into the darkness.
Though he had always been a good and just man, in his heart lay the seeds of darkness. This was nothing, in and of itself--such a thing exists in all who tread the mortal coil. It does not define them. Yet those seeds had become coals in a white hot, seething fire called hatred. He hated Ganondorf. He hated the monsters whom had come to the dark one's aid. He hated his own weakness. The Dark World--the former Sacred Realm twisted by Ganondorf, now Ganon, and his influence--seized upon that hatred, that curling tendril of darkness inside him, and pulled it out. His body was torn asunder, then sewn back together. He was twisted, and blackened by the flames of his own fury. Split between his knighthood and beasthood, his new form drove him mad. Still he would not give in; still he desired to find the King of Darkness, and destroy him.
For seven years, he treaded the shadows. For seven years, he fought among a landscape of tangled trees with gnarled faces, upon fallow, cursed soil. He fought with all manner of monsters, who had once been men. He overcame trials and challenges. Yet always, always in the darkness, always in the shadows, groping and crawling and clawing his way forward. Until he found the light.
How had it come to him? How had it passed through this place, uncorrupted? He could not know, or even wonder. All he could do was reach for the light, grasp it, and feel Courage flow into him. It brought with it the scent of the forest, just like the child in green...but also blood, and the unmistakable pang of parting with a dear and treasured friend.
The Knight rose yet again, and with Courage lighting his way, he began to fight his way back along the paths hidden in the shadows...
Skills:
Knight's Training: The Knight is highly efficient in all the standard training regiments of Hyrule's Royal Army. This includes certain special skills such as the Ending Blow.
Weapon Skills: In addition to the standard martial arms trained by the Knights of Hyrule, in his previous life the Knight also practiced with less common weapons such as axes and flails.
Proficient in Armor: The Knight has been trained to run, fight, and even mount a horse while in armor, and his gear is specific to his measurements. It doesn't impede his movement nearly as much as it might another.
Magic:
None Yet
Gear:
Plate Armor: Like all true knights, this armor was made specifically to the wearer's measurements and preferences, and despite the myths of "clunky and slow" armor it has as much range of motion as the body inside it. It weighs roughly 25 kilograms, and consists of various plate pieces over thick underclothes, with some chainmail covering the most exposed places. The fittings are of supple leather and adjustable buckles, while other leather bits in the joints are of thicker stuff that can still absorb blows and hold back blades.
Weaknesses:
Madness - The Knight, though he is still guided by what little memories of his former life and his strong spirit that remains, is indeed truly berserk. His behavior, even among allies, is highly unpredictable and he cannot be counted on as anything more than a body on the battlefield.
Inability to Speak - The Knight's mind is so fractured that he cannot form coherent communication, and he must rely on body language and gestures.
Obsession - The Knight will take any opportunity that presents itself to attack Ganon or his forces, regardless of strategic significance. He will only retreat under the threat of death, and even then only to give his wounds the minimal treatment before charging back into the fray.
Cannot Swim - The Knight seems unable to completely remove his armor, and thus sinks like a stone in water. |
4,893 | 126 | 25 | 2,170 | 1,634 | Oasis: Resistance HQ
The noise out front could be heard by those gathered in the meeting room inside HQ. The term "Meeting Room" was a bit gracious; it was a smaller room adjacent to the main, featuring a sizeable table, chairs, maps and the like. It was serviceable for its intended use - in this case being the briefing of information pertinent to their mission at hand and storage of light goods. Hoping the disturbance outside was unrelated to the business at hand, Gerik raised his voice slightly to reassert his monopoly over the attentions of those present, wrapping up his orders in a gruff, businesslike manner.
"The Gerudo have kept us secret and safe for a while now. We need to return the favor. Twenty-four Moblins, one Lizalfos. Caravan under attack, right at the Fortress gates. The chests behind you contain skins of good, clear water. Tale as much as you need, and beat a hasty path to assist our benefactors. Time is a factor."
The Commander stood and moved to the door, opening the wooden portal and holding it there, waiting for those present to file out. He didn't have to wait very long before a hulking, obviously perturbed mass creaked the main door slightly ajar, and then slowly open. The mass is in dented and blackened armor, carrying a sword of questionable origin on its back. The form didn't seem overtly hostile, but Gerik wasn't going to let a minor detail like that keep his stomach from twisting into a knot and adrenaline lance through his veins, telltale of his combative instincts kicking in.
The hulking creature was followed quickly by Rath and a small contingent of Sheikah. Probably more than this place had seen at one time in quite a while; the Shadow Folk were something of an endangered species at this point in time, thanks to the efforts of the man they had all come together to oppose. Gerik relaxed just a little, and quietly spoke to Rath.
"Is there something we need to discuss, Rath?" he questioned. The Shiekah chieftan nodded. Apparently, they were all quiet in varying degrees. He crossed the room to join Gerik, exchanging low tones with the veteran Guard.
Meanwhile, all parties bearing a Shard felt a somewhat familiar thrum of power originating from the back of their hand. It was a feeling, but not their own. Mostly, it was camaraderie. A sense of belonging that old friends might have, or at least people who were very accustomed to one another. Brothers of millennia that rarely spoke, but knew everything about each another. The people experiencing this shared the sensation, but understood that it was not their own. It was more of a suggestion of companionship. And it suggested that they needed to come together.
Join together, and become stronger.
The glow that usually accompanied this flow of power began to illuminate them all in the telltale triangular pattern commonly associated with the Triforce. This glow had been showing itself too often as of late. Though it was symbolic of the trust that this powerful artifact of the Goddesses had allotted them, the recent frequency of its activation was a looming portent of things to come. Perhaps this was one of those things.
Rath and Gerik quietly conversed. The tone of their discussion pitched and lowered, but the words remained quiet and forcibly respectful as they continued. When they were quiet, Rath approached the group with a small, silvery flute in hand. "When you are all ready," he began with a smooth, dangerous sounding voice, "I can move you to the Colossus. From there, head east to the Fortress."
The Shiekah Lord turned his attention to his clansman, the slender, silent one with the Deku Staff. While he wasn't quite sure what to make of him, he was one of Rath's people, and as such was a person he could place responsibility upon. "When I perform the music, little Cricket, I want you to join me with your violin. The experience will be... useful, later on."
"The rest of you - if you require anything or anyone, you have two minutes to locate and return."
INTERMISSION
Gerik and Rath motioned for the group to gather in a circle. Holding hands wasn't quite necessary, as they were all of one purpose on their intended destination. Still, if some felt more comfortable in manual embrace, it would earn them just the slightest of odd looks, and nothing more.
When everyone was close, Rath began playing calm, melodic notes on his flute. It was accompanied by the dulcet tones of an expertly pulled violin bow, courtesy of the group's token Sheikah, which seamlessly transitioned into the Requiem of Spirit. The stringed instrument seemed to take in a portion of the incandescent brilliance swirling about the group of Shard Bearers, their surroundings blurring and being replaced with a windy location of stone and sand, a great monolith of carved desert rock providing them protection from the red, rising sun.
It was the Desert Colossus, and true to their word, one could see the Gerudo Fortress in the distance. It wasn't a massive length of space to have traveled, but it was a start. Moreover, anyone attempting to view them would see them start from an already known location, further protecting the safety of the Oasis.
Much to do, little time to do it. Let's hit the ground running.
CoGM's Note: All action taken in this cycle will happen during the INTERMISSION. If you need anything, if anyone has an excuse to find their way back to the HQ, if you're doing a Meet & Greet with Sir Knight, then's the time. If I'm handling the transition to the Desert Fortress after this rotation, we will discuss other actions then. Questions: tag me or Double in the OOC, or shoot me a PM. Thanks all, and I hope we're good to go now. Good hunting.
Cricket
Location: Oasis, Resistance HQ, INTERMISSIONInteracting With: The Knight
Cricket stepped from the meeting room, laying eyes upon the sight unfolding before him. He cocked his head to the side, not unlike a very confused dog. The Shiekah's first instinct was to ready his staff or grab for one of his larger blades to combat this obvious threat, but was overruled by a dash of common sense. This thing, person, wasn't actually being threatening. That was unexpected. He was unsure as to whether he could take such a person in a stand-up fight without resorting to Deku Nuts or Bombs, anyway, and it would be a shame to waste them upon a potential ally. Unstable, possibly. But potential ally nonetheless.
That's when the power of his Triforce shard let itself be felt. Not merely felt, but seen, as well. Just as when he met others possessing a piece of divinity, his gift from Nayru glowed from the back of his hand, radiating power. As it did with the others in the room from earlier. As it did with this warrior before him.
Cricket cautiously leaned his staff against a nearby table and raised his Triforce illuminated hand. He smiled, and slowly approached the behemoth. Locking eyes (at least, what he thought were his eyes), the mute Sheikah smiled with a sense of wonder, ad nodded once. He bowed, keeping his glowing hand visible and eyes raised to the newcomer. As he rose, a flourish of his free hand demonstrated the finesse of his sleight-of-hand work, seemingly pulling a loaf of date bread from nowhere. He winked twice, drawing attention to the tattoo around his eye; a mark proclaiming him as one of the Shadow Folk, a clan known for their undying loyalty to the Royal Family of Hyrule.
He nodded again, and wordlessly offered the bread to the battered and traumatized Hylian Knight. | Name: Cricket
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Sheikah (Sheikiri?)
Appearance:
Cricket is of average height and lean, with thick white hair, tawny skin, and wiry muscle. His eyes are his most striking feature, red and very expressive, with three triangles tattooed above and a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. His style of dress is distinctive, combining elements of Kokiri and Sheikah attire, mostly colored black with an extra scarf-like bit around his neck that acts as a half mask when necessary. Cricket’s ears are pierced in three places each with small, simple gold rings. A brown hooded coat covers most everything. This is good because he is generally covered with kunai daggers, and two particularly large and nasty blades: Sheikah kodachi. The last two are worn openly. He carries a simple, utilitarian backpack that looks like it is made of tree bark.
Personality:
In contrast to the reputation of his people, Cricket is warm and friendly, and just a bit of a showoff. When he’s on the clock, however, he’s all business and no emotion. This has caused people to wonder if he has a split personality, and this is exacerbated by his lack of speech. He adores music, either performing or listening to it.
Background:
Leave it to the Sheikah to have a Plan B. Kakariko was destroyed, but not everyone was present for the massacre. There was an Outpost, hidden carefully in the Kokiri Forest with the permission of the Great Deku Tree. It had been around for a long time, its existence kept secret from any non-Sheikah. The Kokiri in the area were aware of the presence of Sheikah elsewhere in their forest, but the exact location of the Outpost was still unknown. Cricket was born into the clan of Sheikah that ran this outpost.
The two peoples, Sheikah and Kokiri, were more than a little wary of each other at first, but over time they came to be allies. The Kokiri helped them adapt to the ways of the forest and attune their skills to their new environment, and in return the Sheikah very quietly helped defend their patch of earth and trees. As time passed, the cultures diffused, resulting in a more forest-running and musical clan of Sheikah, skilled in the use of Kokiri tools in addition to their own.
But back to Cricket: His clan was part of a networking hub, running goods, people, weapons, supplies, and most importantly, information. News of the various occurrences reached him because he was part of the clan spreading it. A few of the Sheikah survivors took to the Kokiri Outpost, as it was an unknown location from which they could regroup. From the point of Hero’s Fall onward, the Sheikah of the Outpost dedicated themselves to training for war. Cricket was barely before adulthood when all of this mess started, and he dedicated himself to his training (Sheikah and Kokiri, both) with rigorous zeal.
Eventually, as the enslaved Kokiri began deforesting the land, a portion of the clan was sent away, so that their lore would survive if the Outpost were ever found. Cricket was among those chosen to do so.
The seemingly mute Sheikah found his piece of the Triforce just prior to leaving his home. It was a routine trip into the woods, to hunt and forage for food for the first leg of the journey. Dusk was fast approaching, and an angelic blue light in the distance drew him. Cricket found himself staring into the pale light of a crystal shard, listening to a voice he couldn’t quite understand, but instinctively recognized as Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom. The light swelled in intensity and the crystal disappeared, it and the voice becoming part of him.
Cricket felt fundamentally changed, but still fiercely himself. From time to time, he will get little feelings of certainty, as he makes connections that others miss. Hunches, if you will. Cricket has come to trust these frequent flashes of intuition. His first one motivated him toward Oasis.
Skills:
Extensive Stealth Training – Sheikah Rule #1: Don’t be seen, don’t be heard.
Agility Monster – Fast, dexterous lunatic, Cricket is an accomplished acrobat, juggler, and is a devilish little bugger with sleight of hand.
Musically Adept – Plays several instruments proficiently, particularly his fiddle. Reads music and can genuinely feel emotion from the notes.
Intrusion Expert - He’s finding a way in. Locks, traps, dogs, walls, no problem.
Combat Proficiency - Extensively trained in the use of Sheikah weaponry and tactics, though Cricket is most proficient with short blades and thrown items. He has good experience with unarmed fighting and Kokiri tools, and has even taken an interest in Gerudo techniques.
Multi-lingual - Familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Magic:
He summons, and seems to be able to communicate with on a rudimentary level, small chirping insects. There may be more, but his ability to use magic is largely untested.
Gear:
Kodachi (2),
Kunai (12),
Deku Nuts (20),
Bomb Bag (12)
Deku Stick,
Finely crafted fiddle (in case),
Some rations (basic),
large blanket,
pen, ink, and papers in a scroll case
Thin, strong cordage (50 ft)
Firestarters
Various lockpicks, files, and skeleton keys
Backpack
Rupees, 50
Weaknesses:
Mute – Cricket cannot or does not speak, for reasons unknown by most outside of his clan.
Race – Sheikah are distrusted by many, and he cannot hide his appearance short of magic.
For some odd reason, crickets seem to like him. He will often walk out into a clearing in the dead of night, sit down, and play short chirps rhythmically on his fiddle. A truly remarkable chorus of the little guys respond, creating an awe-inspiring nocturnal symphony. He is rarely without one or two on him, who appear to know when he needs to be quiet. They seem to take care of themselves. It is unknown why this phenomenon occurs, or if he has some kind of unconscious control over them. Regardless of why, it has served no actual practical purpose thusfar, aside from being fairly impressive and a little creepy. It earned him his public name. His birth name revealed only to his clan, maybe a trusted few.
Cricket doesn’t speak, communicating with hand gestures, facial expressions, and occasionally his music. He is multi-lingual, being familiar with Sheikah, Hylian, Ancient Hylian, and Sheikah hand signs. Good luck getting him to translate for you, though.
Prefers to sleep in trees, rafters, or other high places when possible.
"Shadows", by Lindsey Stirling. I try to imagine the percussion done by rhythmically chirping crickets. |
4,894 | 126 | 26 | 2,159 | 3,792 | Sigurd
Oasis Resistance
As the blackened knight changed his stance and saluted, before putting his own weapon away, Sigurd stood back into ease as well, and his grip on his weapon loosened. The salute the knight did was the Hylian salute no less. He remembers it from emissaries from Hyrule way back before the destruction of this kingdom. It was good to see that despite this... Corruption, he still had some of his pride as a knight remaining, even if he could not speak he felt a strange unity between knights.
Still, the most interesting aspect of today so far, was the reaction of the triforce pieces, he turned to the building, pausing for a moment as he recounted how many presences he felt... More than he thought, he could not quite explain what he felt, but it told him one thing that was clear. They all need to work together. Though it appears it was time for the briefing, as such he will attend it, and entered after the black knight.
Desert Colossus
Sigurd no matter how many times he had passed this when joining Sheikah patrols, could not believe the sheer size of the colossus, even more amazing though, was the power of melodies in this land. He had read of them, Labrynna itself had tales of a "Harp of Ages", the tales of that legend suddenly didn't seem so farfetched. The colossus was a refuge from the searing heat while they were here, and a waypoint before the Gerudo Fortress that they could see not too far off from where they were. There was to be no delay to get there, but they needed a plan regardless. Perhaps they could wait for a status report once they arrived, but for now... They need to get there. | Name: Sigurd
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Labrynian
Appearance:
Personality: A focused individual whose mind's sharpness is only rivaled by his blade. Despite the way he handles himself, and being a man of action, he is quite the scholar and thinker, even in the heat of battle, which gives him an advantage over particular foes. He enjoys both the arts and history, and has some knowledge of ancient languages, but is no expert on them. Unlike most of his knight colleagues back at home, he took to scholarly pursuits just as often as he took to martial pursuits, making him a well-rounded warrior. He despises cowardice, but values knowing when to retreat, he rarely wishes to get involved with matters that do not pertain to him, but if it is something he cannot stand, or if he just happens to feel like it on a whim, he may engage.
Background: A knight in service of the current queen ruling in Labrynna, he was from a family of knights and was raised as such. Labrynna was in a time of peace, but for eight years it began to suffer increased monster attacks, which urged his training on more. Eventually he would finally be knighted, and led many defenses against monsters since then. He has traveled far in the name of Labrynna's royalty for years, until he would find that envoys sent to Hyrule were not returning. They normally did trade with the sister country far beyond, but for years they found those roads dead silent, and filled with monsters. Armed escorts were not enough, this wasn't a simple monster outbreak.
Finally, the queen sent Sigurd to investigate, along with a small retinue of knights to accompany him. On the road to Hyrule they were attacked relentlessly by monsters, but finally reached Hyrule after a few days. It was then they learned that the kingdom had fallen. When they investigated, they had found that a place called the "Oasis" was a final bastion for this place, and so he and the knights made their way there.
They encountered what appeared to be a Sheikah patrol, who would lead the group to the Oasis. After a brief visit and inquiry, the knights had learned what had happened to Hyrule, and would set out the following morning to inform their queen.
On their way home however, Darknuts and Stalfos blocked their way, and many of the knights were killed, all but two, Sigurd himself, and one of his colleagues, who he would cover the way for, sending his colleague away to inform the queen while he bought time for his escape, as he was the only one among the two who could possibly hold this force off on their own. After a gruelling battle, and overexpending his magical capacities would damage them and ensure he cannot use magic for a good amount of time, he was on his last legs. When all hope seemed lost, a golden speck of light entered his view, and lowered itself on his open hand... A tiny golden shard...? He knew not what it was, but suddenly he could see the way the knights moved. It did not give him strength, but it gave him the means to efficiently use what little he had left, and with it, he would defeat the monster force. He would collapse there, until a Sheikah patrol would find him and bring him back to Oasis where he would recover.
Upon recovery he set out to find out what this little golden shard that granted him salvation was, and perhaps they were some kind of key to upturning the ruination of this land. Unfortunately, his magical capacity was weak, having been damaged after being overused, but he felt them slowly recover. He heard of what these things were... The Triforce. A legendary artifact, even some scriptures in Labrynna would reference it. For him to come across a piece of it... There must be some duty that the goddesses had entrusted to him.
Skills:
Master Swordsman: Even before taking his oath as a knight, he was a skilled swordsman, wielding a giant two handed blade with incredible skill and speed. He uses the weight of the weapon to keep himself moving while attacking, lending him to large sweeping spinning strikes, but at the same time allows him to move quickly.
Martial Prowess: Despite the way he uses his weapon, he has incredible strength, letting him do decent damage with mere punches, kicks and grapples.
Labrynna Knight: His training as a knight of Labrynna has allowed him to move effectively in his armor, as well as taught him the use of shields, even though he rarely uses them.
Scouting: Basic military requirement was he learn to scout. This allows him to spot incoming threats or identify objects or people from further away.
Tactician: He has knowledge of warfare, mostly from books, though it is largely untested.
Commander: As a head knight, he has experience in leading men.
Arcane Warrior: Sigurd has a pursuit of weapon magic, which allows him to imbue the weapons he wields with magical properties for devastating attacks, or a simple buff.
Magic:
Dragon Spin Attack: The spin attack has been a powerful sword art for generations, and people who could not master the original that the Hylian Knights use, would go on to make a version that they could use. This is Sigurd's, a sweeping spin attack with jumps and travels across the battlefield like an acrobatic dance. This attack uses an absurd amount of his energy though.
Gear:
Labrynna Greatsword: A gigantic blade made specifically for Sigurd, it has the Ages insignia on it.
Labrynna Knight Elite Armor: An ornate armor with a slim design. It uses a plated mesh in place of chainmail in some areas, and has the blue cloak symbolic of Labrynna. Classed as a medium armor, but the plated mesh gives it better protection than chainmail, but worse than plate, while maintaining the lightness of a medium armor.
Weaknesses: Sigurd wields incredible destructive power, the combination of any of his War Magic and Dragon Spin Attack can swiftly dispatch of groups of even powerful foes in moments, but it leaves him open to attack should it not succeed. Generally wielding the two handed blade makes his attacks slow yet far reaching, someone who can get inside his range with a faster weapon would have better luck fighting him. At the moment he's unable to use magic effectively, but at his full strength he is a force to be reckoned with. |
4,895 | 127 | 0 | 2,420 | 2,392 | So Here we go, players are free to enter with a bit of a notice on How I would like the first post to look is as follows:
Character Name + one sentence description (i.e: Dandelion, Famous Bard and less famous informant) as the title of a hider with your character information as follows:
Age:
Race:
Occupation:
Appearance: (purely physical and facial)
Equipment: (also serves as a description of your character, finish it up with a list of equipment)
Background:
Skills:
Martial prefference:
Flaws:
Martial flaws:
After that you are free to start together or apart, just make a description what brought you around or near Brugge and what you are currently doing.
It is the year 1203 Various of the Northern Kingdoms are making plays against each other while the river the Yaruga is still the symbol of safety against the Nilfgaardian Empire. In Brugge a new mayor was elected, the eccentric Regan de Bruuk, a known associate of the shady side of Brugge and the main instigator of the Eastborough pogrom against the elves and dwarves in the city, winning the ‘election’ mainly on the propaganda of clearing the forest of Brokilon of the dryads that have been menacing the trade routes for so long. Eastborough is still smoldering from the violent pogrom as the city square is the scene of de Bruuk’s victory feast, non-humans are in hiding or leaving the city as others come in to witness the changes… | As for the format here:
Character Name + one sentence description (i.e: Dandelion, Famous Bard and less famous informant) as the title of a hider with your character information as follows:
Age:
Race:
Occupation:
Appearance: (purely physical and facial)
Equipment: (also serves as a description of your character, finish it up with a list of equipment)
Background:
Skills:
Martial prefference:
Flaws:
Martial flaws: |
4,896 | 127 | 1 | 2,420 | 2,392 | Cyryl
Before Cyryl the plains around Brugge stretched out, the forest of Brokilon Northwest of the city, the Yaruga to its South. Autumn had just arrived and the shades of brown and green were complementing eachother. A low sun stretched over the fields where roads slithered over like snakes. Carts, people and cattle crawling over them. More carts than usual, but proportionally less humans than usual.
A group of soldiers in the cities colours were herassing a cart next to the road, its canvas already torn up and various goods spread out in the ditch next to the road. It was rumoured that De Bruuk had as little love for sorceresses and mutants as he felt for the non-humans.
In front of the gate a line had formed to enter the city, there the small ruckuss just described was repeated tenfold by those waiting to enter the city. Throwing objects at the non-humans, and verbally speeding their departure, or so they seemed to hope. It wasn't a pretty sight, certainly not compared to the rustic countryside.
Time to get moving? | As for the format here:
Character Name + one sentence description (i.e: Dandelion, Famous Bard and less famous informant) as the title of a hider with your character information as follows:
Age:
Race:
Occupation:
Appearance: (purely physical and facial)
Equipment: (also serves as a description of your character, finish it up with a list of equipment)
Background:
Skills:
Martial prefference:
Flaws:
Martial flaws: |
4,897 | 127 | 2 | 928 | 438 | Adelmar knew that his return to Brugge was likely to be an unpleasant one, but he hadn't been expecting anything like this.
From a ways off, the quadroon observed the goings on in the outskirts of the city with a quiet but boiling sort of indignation, barely resisting the urge to get himself involved in the chaos and telling off the guards that apparently had nothing better to do than harass innocent civilians. The last thing he needed was to be thrown in jail before even giving a single speech, and, for that matter, he wasn’t sure there was much he could do for those who were currently ‘under fire’ from the boorish humans that were kicking them out of the city. He felt disgusted by the behavior of his ‘fellow’ humans, as, despite having some elvish blood, he hardly looked it, though he supposed that was probably for the best in terms of his own safety. And, as it was, he was beginning to question whether he’d be safe enough in Brugge at a time like this - which was an ironic thought for someone whose primary objective in life was to stir up the public and attempt to make large changes in the views and values of the majority.
Letting out a tired-sounding sigh, Adelmar absently ran a hand through his hair as he tried to devise a safe and inconspicuous way to get himself into the city, as it seemed that, at present, he would likely have a hard time not catching someone’s attention - he had a rather memorable face, after all. Quite suddenly, he caught sight of someone on horseback not too far away from him, and they seemed to be hesitating about entering the city at a time like this as well. After a slight hesitation, the bard decided that, if he was going to enter the city, he might as well do so with someone else, and, for that matter, he could use an ally in a relatively unfriendly place such as Brugge. With a renewed sense of determination and a pleasant half-smile on his face, Adelmar approached the stranger at a casual pace, doing his best to seem unconcerned despite his inner apprehension. | Age: 28
Race: Quadroon (1/4 elven, 3/4 human)
Occupation: Bard
Physique: Adelmar has the typical build of an ectomorph, as he is relatively tall and lanky in stature, not to mention he’s not exactly a very muscular fellow. Despite his general lack of muscle, however, Adelmar is still quite fit, and he is also very flexible and light on his feet. His constitution is relatively average, though, in a fight, it doesn’t take very many direct hits to take him down, though his pain tolerance and threshold are higher than the average individual’s. Because of his stature, he is incapable of wielding heavy weaponry effectively, and heavier armor sets are of little benefit to him, but what he lacks in strength he makes up for in his agility. It is also worth noting that he is a bit more long-legged than the average individual, although this is a barely noticeable trait of his appearance. His facial features show a bit of his elven heritage, as he has relatively smooth skin, higher than average cheekbones, and a slightly pointed chin. His face shape could overall be defined as 'heart' shaped, as, not only do his other aforementioned facial features more or less fit this subtype, he also has a slight widow's peak.
Height: 5’10”
Hair: Adelmar’s hair is a warm reddish-golden color, and it is slightly curly and very fine in texture, and its fineness makes it somewhat soft to the touch. It’s very short in terms of length, and was cut and styled in a typical way, but it’s been allowed to grow out a bit as he’s been traveling. He typically keeps it very clean and orderly looking, although it’s too short for him to do much of anything else with. In terms of facial hair, Adelmar has a relatively small goatee, which he trims regularly to keep it in its style.
Eyes: His irises are a clear, deep blue color, and are only about a shade lighter than navy. They usually have a fiery but relatively friendly look to them, although their expression varies quite a bit, as Adelmar's quite an expressive person by nature, and, even when he tries to keep himself from showing any emotion, it's easy to tell how he's feeling from the look in his eyes.
Skin: Adelmar’s skin is relatively pale, and it’s somewhat on the peachy side in terms of coloration. His skin freckles very easily, and he has a light spray of freckles visible across his face and on his forearms. And, as logic would dictate, he also sunburns relatively easily.
Scars/Markings/Etc.: He has a relatively average collection of scars for someone who travels through dangerous areas, though few are worthy of any particular note. However, one of his more noticeable ones is located on the upper right area of his back, near his shoulder blade. This particular scar is roughly two inches long, thin, curved, and, despite the fact he acquired it a few years before present day, it stands out against his skin quite noticeably, as it is not only a few shades lighter than his regular skin, but it is also of a hypertrophic nature. He acquired this particular scar in a scuffle with an assassin who'd been set after him after he expressed a particular opinion that happened to offend the wrong people, though he (clearly) came out of said fight as the victor. He also has several identical puncture wound scars around his left ankle, which are the embarrassing reminder left behind from a blind blunder into a hunter’s snare when he’d first begun his travels as a younger man.
Clothing Description: Adelmar tends to vary his typical clothing depending on whether he’s in a city or town, or when he’s out in the wilderness, traveling. When he’s on the road, he typically dresses very practically, yet he still retains a bit of his signature ‘style’. He frequently layers a simple, unadorned linen shirt underneath a navy-blue dyed light leather cuirass, and, with it, he also wears a pair of dark brown and slightly form-fitting leather trousers. In terms of footwear, he has a pair of steel-toed leather boots, and they’re the only piece of clothing he owns that looks even remotely worn-out and lived in. In colder weather, he also wears a hooded, two colored scarlet and black wool cloak, with the black wool lining the inside of the garment. Concerning his style of dress when he’s among civilization, however, Adelmar dresses far more opulently, opting to wear brightly colored clothing made from rich, comfortable fabrics, almost to the point of looking ridiculous - though it’s rare that he isn’t able to pull off whatever he decides to wear. He has a preference for wearing loose fitting, embroidered tunics made from silks and other such material, though it’s not unusual for him to wear a more form fitting (but just as ornate) vest over said shirt, and, as one might expect, he regularly wears form fitting but relatively unadorned trousers along with such outfits. In terms of accessories, Adelmar regularly accents his day-to-day clothing with various styles of belts, and has been known to wear a wide variety of hats, the styles of them depending on the occasion.
Weaponry: While he doesn’t have many weapons, the ones that Adelmar does have he takes very good care of - not to mention he knows how to use them quite well. His primary weapon would be a gabriel crossbow made from raw poplar wood with a steel lath and nut/catch, and it’s mounted on a leather gauntlet for ease of use. The metal on the crossbow has a simple geometric design etched into it, but the wood is entirely unadorned, save for a simple protective glaze to keep the wood from being scratched. Adelmar’s secondary weapon would be a pair of unusually ornate steel daggers. Their blades are made from spring steel, their crossguards and pommels are made from a milder steel, and their hilts are inlaid with ivory and precious stones. The pommels have two particularly large, dark red garnets set firmly in the metal. Although these blades were clearly meant more for decoration than protection, Adelmar will result to using them should the need arise, and he always keeps them on his person should he be in need of them.
Significant Items: It’s worth mentioning that Adaelmar almost always has writing supplies on his person no matter where he is or what he plans to be doing, and he also has a rather large, leather bound volume stuffed with loose leaves of paper that consists of what is currently his entire life’s work. He’s quite proud of some of the things he’s written, while other pieces make him cringe, but, for the most part, he’s attempted to save the final drafts of anything he’s ever written for future publishing purposes.
Background: (tl;dr version) Adelmar is the illegitimate son of a Nilfgaardian noble and a half-elven serving woman, and, consequently, his early life was uncomfortable, to say the least, especially considering his father refused to offer him and his mother any support, nor did he even so much as grace either of them with his presence after Adelmar was born. He spent most of his childhood in relative poverty, although, despite his low economic status, he was a very bright child with a knack for memorization and telling believable stories, and, eventually, he got to the age where he was able to teach himself how to write, and he spent a great deal of his early to mid adolescence honing his oration skills. By this time, he began to offer his services as a bard to any who required one, and, although business started out very slowly for him, he began to build a reputation by the time he reached his early twenties. However, his reputation was quite a mixed one, as, while he is a very approachable and friendly person, historically, he has been the kind of orator who is very opinionated in their speeches, and will not put aside their beliefs to spare the feelings or ideals of a highly ranking official, which has made him just as many enemies as it has good friends. (His main disagreements with most human royalty come from their treatment of non-humans and half-humans, which can result in some very ugly and undiplomatic responses from those who disagree with him.) It is partly because of this and partly because of an innate wanderlust of his that he travels so often.
Skills:
+ Public Speaking: One of Adelmar’s greatest strengths is his abilities as a convincing and effective speaker. His experience and his particular style of speaking tends to make people really listen to and consider what he has to say, and, when he’s regaling an audience with a tale, it barely takes a listener any effort at all to envision the heroic feats, horrible tragedies, or other such events he chooses to bring to the audience’s attention. When he’s presenting one of his more ‘controversial’ pieces, however, he has a talent for inspiring people who share his ideas into being more than just bystanders, and is incredibly gifted at making most of his listeners who are undecided on certain matters feel more inclined towards supporting his beliefs.
+ Writing: Adelmar wouldn’t be as effective of an orator if he didn’t have great talent as a writer as well. Both practice and natural aptitude have given him an edge over most other bards in terms of the written word, and he knows how to use this skill to his advantage. Even without personally presenting his pieces, he is an expert in utilizing the writing techniques of ethos (appeal to ethics), pathos (appeal to emotion), and logos (appeal to logic), and has a wry sense of humor that comes across rather pleasantly in his more satirical works. And, although he lacks this talent when speaking, he does know how to use the art of subtlety to his advantage in writing.
+ Charisma: A particularly favorable trait of Adelmar’s is that he is a naturally likable individual to most, as he’s polite, amiable, and, as long as he keeps away from talking about politics, does not easily offend others. If he has a mind to befriend someone, it is seldom that he’s not able to succeed, and he’s also rather skilled at getting what he wants - at least, in terms of minor things. He does not abuse this trait of his, though, but it has helped him find allies in unexpected places, as well as helped him get out of several ‘close calls’ he’s faced in the past.
Martial preference: He only ever resorts to fighting when it’s imperative for him to act in self defense, but is best at ranged combat.
Flaws:
- Headstrong: Adelmar has a somewhat dangerous habit of not knowing when to quit. While determination is usually an admirable trait, he often takes it too far, often putting himself and others in harm’s way just because he’s unwilling to compromise his beliefs or give up on a project or ideal of his own, even temporarily. In this same way, he also is not particularly open minded to other people’s opinions or beliefs about /certain/ subjects (mostly just ones concerning the treatment of other races), and he has a tendency of getting into fights with those who have conflicting beliefs that get so heated that he very rarely parts with his opponent as friends.
- Paranoid: Adelmar has a difficult time ever truly relaxing, as, due to his general lack of verbal tact and his somewhat ‘radical’ opinions, he’s got some rather powerful enemies, and he has several irrational fears concerning those under their employ. Ever since someone made an attempt on taking his life for saying the wrong thing at the right time, he’s been overly cautious and wary of other peoples’ motives, and makes a habit of checking out the places where he’s spending the night, as well as scanning his audience when he speaks to determine whether or not he’s potentially in any danger. And it almost goes without saying that he seldom ever sleeps very well.
- Vain: While this is more of a minor flaw of his, Adelmar’s slight narcissism can range from being a moderately annoying trait to massively inconvenient. He cares far too much about his appearance, even in situations where looks should be the last thing on someone’s mind, and he has a bit too much confidence in his own abilities than is healthy for the average individual. Though he’s not exactly ‘obsessed’ with himself, he has so much faith in himself he’ll often turn down others’ help even when he really needs it, and he would rather offend someone else than make a joke at his own expense.
Martial flaws:
- Adelmar isn’t strong enough to wield most two handed weaponry, and he’s generally less experienced when it comes to close combat fighting.
- He can be distracted very easily, and he's not always as aware of his surroundings as he should be - even when he's engaged in combat. |
4,898 | 127 | 3 | 2,420 | 2,392 | Cyryl noticed a figure walking up towards. Another soul who probably didn't want to brave the swarm of angry folks. He approached casually, in stark contrast to the scene playing out behind him. He had the stride of a man who had been travelling all day, and his brown trousers did little to hide the autumn mud crusted around his boots. He still displayed a proud and pleasant navy-blue top, a rich but subtle colour, which was to be appreciated in courts for it's practicality and it's not-so-cheap price. A warming and practised half-smile sat upon his comely features, and she waved calmly to him in greeting.
She noticed she had been absent mindedly chewing her hair, so she brushed it back out of her face before greeting him with an equally practised and disarming smile. "A pleasant enough view, wouldn't you agree?" shame about the city was the unspoken addition she refrained from saying. Diplomacy was as much about what was spoken and what was left unspoken.
At first glance she had no idea why she was approaching him, but she knew from the flamboyant clothes, yet practicality and lack of commitments and guard he was no noble, but a spitting image of a bard | As for the format here:
Character Name + one sentence description (i.e: Dandelion, Famous Bard and less famous informant) as the title of a hider with your character information as follows:
Age:
Race:
Occupation:
Appearance: (purely physical and facial)
Equipment: (also serves as a description of your character, finish it up with a list of equipment)
Background:
Skills:
Martial prefference:
Flaws:
Martial flaws: |
4,899 | 127 | 4 | 928 | 438 | As he approached the stranger, Adelmar noticed that they were, in fact, a woman, and she was dressed in a practical set of leathers, yet they seemed less suited for protection and more for 'looks' than typical leather cuirasses or jerkins. In terms of looks, she was certainly fair-looking, yet there was something about her that made her seem like far more than just another traveler heading into Brugge. She had a powerful air about her, yet it wasn't the stuffy and arrogant one he often associated with nobility - it seemed to come from a more 'natural' and primal source than that. He wasn't quite sure what that power he felt was, but figuring that out was one of the last things on his mind at present.
At her wave, he inclined his head in acknowledgement of her greeting, and, in response to her previous statement, he merely replied with a civil, equally pleasant-sounding, "Indeed." This was in response to both her stated and implied remark to him, for, as it was, he was finding it more and more difficult to refrain from being involved. The only thing keeping him from trying to do something about the whole spectacle was the knowledge that nothing he could do would be of much help to anyone.
"The city certainly seems to be in quite a stir today, doesn't it," the bard stated, gesturing at the general chaos occurring at the city's gates casually enough, but the look in his eyes was one indicating an unspoken question. I take it you're not keen on trying to get through there right now, either? | Age: 28
Race: Quadroon (1/4 elven, 3/4 human)
Occupation: Bard
Physique: Adelmar has the typical build of an ectomorph, as he is relatively tall and lanky in stature, not to mention he’s not exactly a very muscular fellow. Despite his general lack of muscle, however, Adelmar is still quite fit, and he is also very flexible and light on his feet. His constitution is relatively average, though, in a fight, it doesn’t take very many direct hits to take him down, though his pain tolerance and threshold are higher than the average individual’s. Because of his stature, he is incapable of wielding heavy weaponry effectively, and heavier armor sets are of little benefit to him, but what he lacks in strength he makes up for in his agility. It is also worth noting that he is a bit more long-legged than the average individual, although this is a barely noticeable trait of his appearance. His facial features show a bit of his elven heritage, as he has relatively smooth skin, higher than average cheekbones, and a slightly pointed chin. His face shape could overall be defined as 'heart' shaped, as, not only do his other aforementioned facial features more or less fit this subtype, he also has a slight widow's peak.
Height: 5’10”
Hair: Adelmar’s hair is a warm reddish-golden color, and it is slightly curly and very fine in texture, and its fineness makes it somewhat soft to the touch. It’s very short in terms of length, and was cut and styled in a typical way, but it’s been allowed to grow out a bit as he’s been traveling. He typically keeps it very clean and orderly looking, although it’s too short for him to do much of anything else with. In terms of facial hair, Adelmar has a relatively small goatee, which he trims regularly to keep it in its style.
Eyes: His irises are a clear, deep blue color, and are only about a shade lighter than navy. They usually have a fiery but relatively friendly look to them, although their expression varies quite a bit, as Adelmar's quite an expressive person by nature, and, even when he tries to keep himself from showing any emotion, it's easy to tell how he's feeling from the look in his eyes.
Skin: Adelmar’s skin is relatively pale, and it’s somewhat on the peachy side in terms of coloration. His skin freckles very easily, and he has a light spray of freckles visible across his face and on his forearms. And, as logic would dictate, he also sunburns relatively easily.
Scars/Markings/Etc.: He has a relatively average collection of scars for someone who travels through dangerous areas, though few are worthy of any particular note. However, one of his more noticeable ones is located on the upper right area of his back, near his shoulder blade. This particular scar is roughly two inches long, thin, curved, and, despite the fact he acquired it a few years before present day, it stands out against his skin quite noticeably, as it is not only a few shades lighter than his regular skin, but it is also of a hypertrophic nature. He acquired this particular scar in a scuffle with an assassin who'd been set after him after he expressed a particular opinion that happened to offend the wrong people, though he (clearly) came out of said fight as the victor. He also has several identical puncture wound scars around his left ankle, which are the embarrassing reminder left behind from a blind blunder into a hunter’s snare when he’d first begun his travels as a younger man.
Clothing Description: Adelmar tends to vary his typical clothing depending on whether he’s in a city or town, or when he’s out in the wilderness, traveling. When he’s on the road, he typically dresses very practically, yet he still retains a bit of his signature ‘style’. He frequently layers a simple, unadorned linen shirt underneath a navy-blue dyed light leather cuirass, and, with it, he also wears a pair of dark brown and slightly form-fitting leather trousers. In terms of footwear, he has a pair of steel-toed leather boots, and they’re the only piece of clothing he owns that looks even remotely worn-out and lived in. In colder weather, he also wears a hooded, two colored scarlet and black wool cloak, with the black wool lining the inside of the garment. Concerning his style of dress when he’s among civilization, however, Adelmar dresses far more opulently, opting to wear brightly colored clothing made from rich, comfortable fabrics, almost to the point of looking ridiculous - though it’s rare that he isn’t able to pull off whatever he decides to wear. He has a preference for wearing loose fitting, embroidered tunics made from silks and other such material, though it’s not unusual for him to wear a more form fitting (but just as ornate) vest over said shirt, and, as one might expect, he regularly wears form fitting but relatively unadorned trousers along with such outfits. In terms of accessories, Adelmar regularly accents his day-to-day clothing with various styles of belts, and has been known to wear a wide variety of hats, the styles of them depending on the occasion.
Weaponry: While he doesn’t have many weapons, the ones that Adelmar does have he takes very good care of - not to mention he knows how to use them quite well. His primary weapon would be a gabriel crossbow made from raw poplar wood with a steel lath and nut/catch, and it’s mounted on a leather gauntlet for ease of use. The metal on the crossbow has a simple geometric design etched into it, but the wood is entirely unadorned, save for a simple protective glaze to keep the wood from being scratched. Adelmar’s secondary weapon would be a pair of unusually ornate steel daggers. Their blades are made from spring steel, their crossguards and pommels are made from a milder steel, and their hilts are inlaid with ivory and precious stones. The pommels have two particularly large, dark red garnets set firmly in the metal. Although these blades were clearly meant more for decoration than protection, Adelmar will result to using them should the need arise, and he always keeps them on his person should he be in need of them.
Significant Items: It’s worth mentioning that Adaelmar almost always has writing supplies on his person no matter where he is or what he plans to be doing, and he also has a rather large, leather bound volume stuffed with loose leaves of paper that consists of what is currently his entire life’s work. He’s quite proud of some of the things he’s written, while other pieces make him cringe, but, for the most part, he’s attempted to save the final drafts of anything he’s ever written for future publishing purposes.
Background: (tl;dr version) Adelmar is the illegitimate son of a Nilfgaardian noble and a half-elven serving woman, and, consequently, his early life was uncomfortable, to say the least, especially considering his father refused to offer him and his mother any support, nor did he even so much as grace either of them with his presence after Adelmar was born. He spent most of his childhood in relative poverty, although, despite his low economic status, he was a very bright child with a knack for memorization and telling believable stories, and, eventually, he got to the age where he was able to teach himself how to write, and he spent a great deal of his early to mid adolescence honing his oration skills. By this time, he began to offer his services as a bard to any who required one, and, although business started out very slowly for him, he began to build a reputation by the time he reached his early twenties. However, his reputation was quite a mixed one, as, while he is a very approachable and friendly person, historically, he has been the kind of orator who is very opinionated in their speeches, and will not put aside their beliefs to spare the feelings or ideals of a highly ranking official, which has made him just as many enemies as it has good friends. (His main disagreements with most human royalty come from their treatment of non-humans and half-humans, which can result in some very ugly and undiplomatic responses from those who disagree with him.) It is partly because of this and partly because of an innate wanderlust of his that he travels so often.
Skills:
+ Public Speaking: One of Adelmar’s greatest strengths is his abilities as a convincing and effective speaker. His experience and his particular style of speaking tends to make people really listen to and consider what he has to say, and, when he’s regaling an audience with a tale, it barely takes a listener any effort at all to envision the heroic feats, horrible tragedies, or other such events he chooses to bring to the audience’s attention. When he’s presenting one of his more ‘controversial’ pieces, however, he has a talent for inspiring people who share his ideas into being more than just bystanders, and is incredibly gifted at making most of his listeners who are undecided on certain matters feel more inclined towards supporting his beliefs.
+ Writing: Adelmar wouldn’t be as effective of an orator if he didn’t have great talent as a writer as well. Both practice and natural aptitude have given him an edge over most other bards in terms of the written word, and he knows how to use this skill to his advantage. Even without personally presenting his pieces, he is an expert in utilizing the writing techniques of ethos (appeal to ethics), pathos (appeal to emotion), and logos (appeal to logic), and has a wry sense of humor that comes across rather pleasantly in his more satirical works. And, although he lacks this talent when speaking, he does know how to use the art of subtlety to his advantage in writing.
+ Charisma: A particularly favorable trait of Adelmar’s is that he is a naturally likable individual to most, as he’s polite, amiable, and, as long as he keeps away from talking about politics, does not easily offend others. If he has a mind to befriend someone, it is seldom that he’s not able to succeed, and he’s also rather skilled at getting what he wants - at least, in terms of minor things. He does not abuse this trait of his, though, but it has helped him find allies in unexpected places, as well as helped him get out of several ‘close calls’ he’s faced in the past.
Martial preference: He only ever resorts to fighting when it’s imperative for him to act in self defense, but is best at ranged combat.
Flaws:
- Headstrong: Adelmar has a somewhat dangerous habit of not knowing when to quit. While determination is usually an admirable trait, he often takes it too far, often putting himself and others in harm’s way just because he’s unwilling to compromise his beliefs or give up on a project or ideal of his own, even temporarily. In this same way, he also is not particularly open minded to other people’s opinions or beliefs about /certain/ subjects (mostly just ones concerning the treatment of other races), and he has a tendency of getting into fights with those who have conflicting beliefs that get so heated that he very rarely parts with his opponent as friends.
- Paranoid: Adelmar has a difficult time ever truly relaxing, as, due to his general lack of verbal tact and his somewhat ‘radical’ opinions, he’s got some rather powerful enemies, and he has several irrational fears concerning those under their employ. Ever since someone made an attempt on taking his life for saying the wrong thing at the right time, he’s been overly cautious and wary of other peoples’ motives, and makes a habit of checking out the places where he’s spending the night, as well as scanning his audience when he speaks to determine whether or not he’s potentially in any danger. And it almost goes without saying that he seldom ever sleeps very well.
- Vain: While this is more of a minor flaw of his, Adelmar’s slight narcissism can range from being a moderately annoying trait to massively inconvenient. He cares far too much about his appearance, even in situations where looks should be the last thing on someone’s mind, and he has a bit too much confidence in his own abilities than is healthy for the average individual. Though he’s not exactly ‘obsessed’ with himself, he has so much faith in himself he’ll often turn down others’ help even when he really needs it, and he would rather offend someone else than make a joke at his own expense.
Martial flaws:
- Adelmar isn’t strong enough to wield most two handed weaponry, and he’s generally less experienced when it comes to close combat fighting.
- He can be distracted very easily, and he's not always as aware of his surroundings as he should be - even when he's engaged in combat. |
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