[CENTER][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][B]C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L[/B][/COLOR] [img]https://cdn.marvel.com/content/1x/punisher_1_suayan_cover.jpg[/img][h3][sup][sub][color=LightBlue]J O E G A R R I S O N [color=white]♦[/color] K I L L E R [color=white]♦[/color] N E W Y O R K C I T Y [color=white]♦[/color] E X - S H I E L D[/color][/sub][/sup][/h3][img]IMAGE/BANNER[/img] [/CENTER][COLOR=white][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR] [CENTER][sup][color=ADD8E6][b]"And they shall know no fear!"[/b][/color][/sup][/CENTER] [INDENT][INDENT][i]The man once called SHIELD's 'Gravedigger' has reforged himself as the all-new [b]Punisher[/b]. Framed for the murder of his wife and children, Joe Garrison began a campaign of carnage against New York's criminal element, slaughtering dozens of mobsters and a handful of fledgling supervillains, including JIGSAW, the architect behind the murder of Joe's family. Joe discovered it wasn't him who was targeted, but his wife, for her work as a human rights lawyer. In the aftermath, Joe was dead, officially, and the identity of the new Punisher remains a mystery to the city at large. All Joe can do is continue his wife's mission of fighting for the needy -- the only way he knows how.[/i][/indent][/indent] [COLOR=white][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][i]but why tho[/i][/indent][/indent] [COLOR=white][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][hider=Allies] Triple-A: A SHIELD affiliated hacker and equipment specialist who was Joe's handler, once upon a time.[/hider] [hider=Known Enemies] Bushwhacker: Leader of the Night Shift, a squad of super mercenaries. When they last crossed Joe, he killed half their number. Finesse: The other surviving member of the Night Shift. Supposedly, she's Taskmaster's daughter.[/hider][/indent][/indent] [COLOR=white][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]S A M P L E P O S T:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT]sample [/indent][/indent] [hider=careful not to cut yourself on this edge] [INDENT][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][CENTER][sup][h1][center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/90/85/4b/90854b10fe74e0a629327dba568f0747.jpg[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] P U N I S H E R[/color] [color=lightgray]P U N I S H E R[/color][/center] [/b][/h1][/sup] [color=silver][sup][i]"THE WAR ON CRIME HAS CHANGED. WILL YOU CHANGE WITH IT?"[/i][/sup][/color][/CENTER][table][row][/row][row][cell][center][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T[/color] [color=lightgray]C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T[/color] [/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b2/f7/a7/b2f7a76efbe0d3551c37ca895d339af0.jpg[/img] [sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y[/color] [color=lightgray]C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [sub][COLOR=darkgray]Francis David Castle[/COLOR] [sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=darkgray]41[/COLOR] [b]|[/b] [COLOR=darkgray]Widower[/COLOR] [sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=darkgray]Ex-Marine, Ex-NYPD[/COLOR] [b]|[/b] [COLOR=darkgray]American[/COLOR][/sub][/center] [indent][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S[/color] [color=lightgray]N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [INDENT][hider=][color=#2e2c2c]-[/color] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] A B I L I T I E S[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray][b]◼ ENHANCED PHYSICALS[/b][/color] Even without Ven'ahm fully deployed, all of Frank's physical abilities have dramatically improved. He is stronger, faster, more durable, and with greater stamina than ever, on top of an enhanced healing factor. These abilities only improve with the entire symbiote in play, especially if the creature has been allowed to eat. [/color] [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray][b]◼ LIQUID SKIN[/b][/color] The symbiote's skin seems to be a sort of non-Newtonian fluid that can be controlled at will. This leads to a incredible number of applications, including the suits ability to configure into various specifications of armor or disguise at will, as well as the ability to deploy pseudopods that can fire weapons, operate machinery, and even attack on their own. [/color][/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] T O O L (S)[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray][b]◼ EXPANSIVE ARMORY[/b][/color] Over the years, Frank has built up an incredible collection of eclectic firearms of every type for just about every situation. Small arms, long arms, explosives, launchers, and more. Now, thanks to the symbiote, Frank is able to carry more of it on his person than ever.[/color][/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent][/hider][/INDENT][indent][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S[/color] [color=lightgray]N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [INDENT][hider=][color=#2e2c2c]-[/color] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] S K I L L (S)[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray][b]◼ WEAPONS EXPERTISE[/b][/color] Frank is an expert in the care and use of a plethora of weapons, favoring traditional firearms, though he does have some experience with close quarters combat.[/color][/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] T A L E N T (S)[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray][b]◼ PAIN TOLERANCE[/b][/color] Frank was born with a naturally dulled sense of pain. Even before his bond with the symbiote, he was able to take unbelievable amounts of punishment without faltering.[/color] [/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent][/hider][/INDENT][/cell][cell][INDENT][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...[/color] [color=lightgray]T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=DARKGRAY][indent]My name is Frank Castle, and before The Reach, I was a lot like you. Stable career. Loving Wife. Ugly dog. Pair of beautiful kids. Living the dream. It can change in an instant at the end of a gun. We were innocent, having a picnic in the park. But we were in the way. Drug deal gone wrong. They died like animals. Sometimes I wish I died, too. Instead I woke up in a hospital a year later. Next is the part you’ve heard. I had to hurt the men who hurt me. Open and shut revenge. Simple. Except for the part where it didn’t stop. Every door I kicked down, I expected to die on the other side of. Live like that long enough, without anything else to live for, and it quickly becomes all you know. At the beginning I would plan obsessively. Every weapon, every angle, every perp checked meticulously so that I knew, without doubt, that [i]these[/i] were the men that deserved punishment. By the end, it was as simple as running into the next room and putting two between the eyes of the next gangbanger I saw. Simple revenge. Haha. Only reason I figure I got away with it -- being The Punisher, wearing that skull-lookin’ armor, announcing my presence everywhere I went with a burst of machinegun fire -- was on account of the war. The PD and the Feds were spread thin, which gave every scumbag in the city license to do as they pleased. They needed support, and I was all that was coming. Maybe they thought I was helping hold the city together, even as I burned it down. Next is the part you haven’t. My last weeks of it are the haziest of all. I remember the chug of the gun and seeing, for the first time, the colors of human and Reach blood swirling and mixing on the cracked concrete. I remember that they [i]got[/i] me, hit me with some new weapon. I thought when I finally ran into The Reach, I’d die on the spot. Get a plasma hole bored through my guts or become a denatured pile of slime. Instead, I woke up in a cell. I [i]knew[/i] The Reach was experimenting on humans, we all did, but I didn’t think that meant they’d have a gene lab buried under Manhattan. Nothing they did to me seemed to take. I think they only kept me around as a control, a tough old bastard to measure their successes against. Even then, I expected to get binned fast. I know what happens to test animals. But their new subjects were few and far between. Fewer and fewer as the weeks and months dragged on. The Reach scientists spent more time in the facility than ever. They seemed cut off… But they were holding on. This was the pattern for almost five years -- until last month. An asset transfer from another facility, a rare occasion. A thing sealed in a glass tube, running and shifting inside in inky black detail. The scientists were excited. They tried it on all kinds of things. Poured it over blocks, rocks, technology, weapons, even a few houseplants. No change. Until they started trying the animals. It would sink into their flesh, like it was disappearing against their skin. Then the shaking, the vomiting, the screaming. Then the sleep. You could watch, over an hour, as each strip of muscle and skin and sinew receded and faded until there was nothing left of the animal but a bleached skeleton and a quivering black mass sheltering in its ribcage. They tried it on us next. There weren’t many of us human prisoners left. Only the hardest and the toughest. But it was the same for each of them. Bleached bones and a grinning skull staring at me from across the lab. Until me. It was almost natural coming onto my skin, pushing its tendrils through the gaps between my cells. It was destroying me. But it was rebuilding me. It [i]spoke[/i] to me. There was a voice in my head. It needed to know only one thing. Was I ready to slaughter its captors? Or would it eat me like the rest, and try another? My name is Frank Castle. Its name is Ven’ahm. [b]Together, we are The Punisher.[/b] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b7/f4/23/b7f4234da9dc52322555e695f31a7fba.jpg[/img][/center] [/indent][/COLOR] [INDENT][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )[/color] [color=lightgray]P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=DARKGRAY][INDENT]One of the fundamental tensions of the Punisher when held up against the rest of a superhero universe is: how justified can his actions [i]really[/i] be? Here’s a mass murderer presenting himself as a necessary, brutal, bloody solution to problems a dopey teen in spandex could solve in seconds. You can handwave it to some extent with the scope of crime in a comic book universe, but you’ll always be asking yourself why any of a hundred heroes don’t put a stop to the madness. By giving him access to the symbiote, I think I can expose Frank to problems he [i]is[/i] more of a justified solution for, especially in the context of Lord’s regime. More importantly, the most interesting part of The Punisher, at least when talking about a game like this, is whether there could be a good person hiding somewhere in the depths of Frank’s blackened soul. We’ve seen Frank broken down a million times, what if he could be built up? What if he has a chance to grow or change or do something actually positive with his life. To set him on this path, he’s had a long time to think in that cell. Now he’s forced into a role he could never predict, as the adoptive father of a weird alien that lives on his skin that might be the one creature on the planet more naturally hateful than he is. [/INDENT][/COLOR][/cell][/row][/table][hr][/COLOR][/INDENT] [/hider] [hider=post] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/f3LkxYf.png[/img][/center] [indent][sub][i]Issue 01[/i][/sub][/indent] [hr] There are over eight million people in New York City, mashed in together and desperate for their own little slice of foxhole. Tonight there might as well be two: me and [i]it[/i]. I thought once I got back out into the city I’d have a second to breathe and be home again. I’d take a couple big gulps of that shitty, polluted, delicious New York air and my head would be set straight. The fog would disappear and so would I into the streets I knew better than my own face. Instead all I could think about was the thing clinging to my skin and the sweat running off every part of my body. It was finally [i]asleep[/i], or something like it. In the lab, in that cell, it latched onto me with its sick darkness and spread until it covered me, molded to me. It was everywhere, forcing its tendrils through my body, evaluating, [i]tasting[/i]. I’ve done terrible things to my body -- been slashed, shot, filled with shrapnel. I’ve pulled bullets out of my chest without anesthetic, feeling the long metal tweezer deep in my flesh every inch of the way. I could handle this, the burrowing feeling around my heart and liver, the waves of tension and pain radiating across my skull, even the way my sinuses filled with ooze and threatened to burst. Then the [i]voice[/i]. It sounded like someone was whispering to me from the space between my ears. Its speech barely held together, made up of sickening moist slaps and grinding, guttural consonants. It sounded like a still-bleeding pile of offal had found a way to speak. It called itself [i]Venom[/i], and it needed to get [i]out[/i]. I was the only one it had found that seemed strong enough. It said the others [i]broke[/i] before they could try. How long would it take me to break, it wondered? I didn’t answer it with my words. I couldn’t, suffocating on darkness. I remembered a time from out on deployment, when the rain was coming down harder than the bullets and the wind screamed and begged like a dying man. A bolt of lightning darted over camp and detonated the biggest, oldest cypress around and covered the whole platoon in wood chips and embers. The core of the tree became an inferno, blazing and roiling inside like a portal to Hell itself while its outsides hissed and spat at the oncoming rain. The next morning, all that was left of the tree was a glassy, obsidian-black stump that radiated heat like a furnace. You could feel that heat, standing by that stump, for weeks and months. I think it still burns today. It still does, inside me. It took the lead. It fought like an unchained bull, rushing through and goring everything in its path with unbelievable strength. It took the form of a massive man, all tooth and muscle, sealed around me like a coffin as it did its work. It smashed out of our cell and killed everything left in the lab within an hour. Then it [i]ate[/i]. It took us to their bodies like a keen vulture, picked out the morsels it found most interesting and slurped them into its bizarre gullet. Then, as quickly as it formed, it faded away. The coffin opened and receded beneath my skin. The voice went quiet. I had hope it spent itself in the killing. Maybe after all was said and done I could piss the fucker out like I’ve done a hundred other poisons I’ve put in me. I found the way to open the door to the lab after an hour of searching and got out into the sewers. The rot and garbage smelled like home. Then the shakes started. Figured I might die like the others -- they went pretty quick. ‘Venom’ must have had his use of me. It would devour me and attach itself to the next chump who didn’t expire on contact. Maybe it had eaten enough to stand on its own. It felt like a thousand beetles swarmed through my insides, devouring my muscles and my organs, and every step I took made them angrier. I managed to trudge my way out to the streets and into the ruins of some smashed up homeless camp. Not unusual in this city. I was used to the law overstepping their bounds. But this one looked bad. The burn marks on the trodden-on tent vinyl did not tell a happy story. Neither did the dried, anonymous blood that I found myself hoping was very old. That part hoping was the same part that still raged against the madness that plagued this city. It was the part that knew all the drug dealers and the dirty cops, the human traffickers, the suits, the scum were all still out there, rampant, begging for punishment. It was the part I learned to quiet in the cell. I had enough of raging and breaking my knuckles on the walls. I already doled out plenty of punishment. I remembered David Lieberman, my oldest friend. He was with me from the beginning, my eyes and ears on the web. After that first year of being the Punisher, he would always ask [i]why[/i] we had to keep going. We had long since killed the men from that day in the park. I always had some justification for him. Something about drugs or guns proliferating, gangs, cops, The Reach, or about anything else within reach. Could I look him in the eye and tell him the same now? I still felt the alien eating away at me, but maybe I had enough time left to find out. I fished a set of holey jeans and a shredded coat from the camp and made my way to Lieberman’s. It looked the same on the outside, a ramshackle converted tenement held together mostly by hope and Dave’s shitty DIY jobs. As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t the usual spit-and-span look. His door was hanging half off its hinges. Like someone had broken it down. I saw a chair in the doorway, propped up feebly as if it would give the door any of its stability back. Dave was still living there, alright. I pushed my way inside and found him in his living room. [color=darkkhaki]“[i]Frank!?[/i]”[/color] Lieberman was on his knees, stuffing a hurricane of clothes and what had to be every electronic he owned into a too-small suitcase. What hair he had left was as much of a mess as his house. Lieberman dropped an L-pad on the hardwood as soon as he saw me. He put his head in his hands. [color=darkkhaki]“This is the craziest fucking night of my life…”[/color] [color=#bababa]“Finally moving to Florida?”[/color] I asked. Half a joke. He always talked about the problems in his neighborhood, how it was no place to start a family. But his eyes were bloodshot, his whole pudgy frame shaking. Even on the worst nights of the Punisher, when the gangs and the cops were all out for blood, he was sat in here behind his desk without worry, chaining his nicotine patches and staying in touch all night. Now I saw there was a packet of the cigarettes he tried so hard to quit wedged into his shirt pocket. [color=#bababa]“What did you get into? I thought you were all about laying low.”[/color] I asked. Lieberman was always the careful one. While I ran around on my crusade with no mask and no concern for myself, he erased digital trails and security footage. He would sabotage security measures and detections, and had even wiped himself from multiple government databases. [color=darkkhaki]“A man broke in here tonight and managed to spill everything I was stupid enough to keep over the years…”[/color] Dave shook his head. [color=darkkhaki]“They’re going to come down on me like the hammer of God.”[/color] [color=#bababa]“We’ve gotten around the cops before.”[/color] I said. The NYPD was almost as slow as it was greedy. They could have reformed since I was away, but if I knew anything about the Police union in the city, I doubted it. [color=darkkhaki]“It’s not the cops I’m worried about. It’s The Agency.”[/color] Lieberman said. He bit his thumbnail that was already bitten down. He looked ready to tear it off. [color=#bababa]“Agency?”[/color] I grunted out the question. I could feel the creature around what I was sure was my heart, plucking it like some crude instrument. But still I stood. [color=darkkhaki]“You don’t know?”[/color] Dave struggled for a moment, saw the faraway look on my face. [color=darkkhaki]“They’re… They’re ‘the Punisher’ for guys like us.”[/color] I could almost laugh. Spend five years in a cell, and get out only to find they’re coming harder than ever. It figured. But if anyone was asking for it, it was me. [color=#bababa]“Don’t we deserve it, Lieberman? The things we’ve done?”[/color] I rasped. I’ve killed too many men for either of us to remember. Every street corner around held the memory of that bloodshed. Did they all deserve it? I thought so. But the more I thought about it, the more it became ‘hope so’. [color=darkkhaki]“We’re not the only ones who will eat shit for this, Frank. I’ve got -- I’ve got --”[/color] Lieberman stammered. As he spoke, the door to his basement swung wide and a pair of little feet padded in. “Dad? What’s going on?” There was a little boy at the top of Dave’s stairs, wearing a Knicks t-shirt a size too big. He looked a lot like Frank Jr. used to, the dark hair and the big, mysterious eyes. Except for the scales in neon colors that ran all over his body, peeking out at his neck and all over the backs of his hands. [color=darkkhaki]“David Jr! Back downstairs. Finish packing, [i]now[/i],”[/color] Lieberman said. The boy yelped and fled back into the dark of the basement. Guilt sat in my throat. Dave managed to make a life for himself, and I already ruined it. Now I was exposing them to the thing soon to eat me inside out. I had to go. [color=darkkhaki]“He’s a mutant, Frank,”[/color] Dave said, like I couldn’t tell, [color=darkkhaki]“they’ll kill him.”[/color] Mutant bigotry was nothing new, especially on the force. I’d seen a lot of young officers drummed out on trumped up violations for trying to fight against it. There was no telling how rampant it was in this ‘Agency’, but Dave’s look gave me a pretty good impression. Before I could say anything, move to go, I heard a scratch and crackle outside. The telltale sound of a bullhorn turning on. Dave had run out of time. In my earlier days I would have heard the approach, the wheels crunching on the gravel or the hum of an overtuned cruiser engine. Instead, our new arrivals got the first word: [b]“David Lieberman! We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”[/b] It was some overeager trooper, excited to make his first big bust. They showed fast. It didn’t sound like they were expecting me. I had to stay to give Lieberman a chance, as much of one as I could give him dying on his living room floor. [color=#bababa]“You still keep the pump in the same spot, Dave?”[/color] I forced myself over to his mantle, ignoring the feeling of alien fibers worming through my muscles. Dave’s jaw dropped. [color=darkkhaki]“You’re not armed?”[/color] [color=#bababa]“Get downstairs. You two need to get out in the confusion. Go to the old spot. I’ll hold them as long as I can.”[/color] I hoped it would be long enough. I only had so many shells, and there was no telling how long I could resist the alien once the shots started coming. As long as Dave could get out, everything would be alright. Lieberman nodded too many times and scurried to the basement door. I reached up inside the fireplace and closed my hands around a wooden stock. It was the same sawn off pump-action shotgun I’d stashed with him since I became the Punisher. So he could better protect himself, I told him. I just hope he maintained the damn thing. [color=darkkhaki]“Frank? When did you change?”[/color] It was Lieberman, looking back at me from the top of the stairs. [color=#bababa]“We’ll catch up later, Lieberman,”[/color] I said. We wouldn’t. This would be the Punisher’s last dance. [color=darkkhaki]“Your [i]clothes[/i], Frank,”[/color] Dave said. [color=#bababa]“What?”[/color] I looked down at myself and beheld the skull I had worn for five years, the one that now lived in my dreams and the nightmares of countless others. [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WNLzpJa.jpeg[/img][/center] [/hider] [HIDER=New Challenger Approaching] [INDENT][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][CENTER][sup][h1][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019a7ec7-867d-74d5-9380-9e50341e21e5.webp[/img][/center][b][center][color=red] B L A D E / V I G I L A N T E[/color] [color=lightgray]B L A D E / V I G I L A N T E[/color][/center] [/b][/h1][/sup] [color=red][sup][i]"Now I don’t know, but I’ve been told, monster teeth are worth more n’ gold…"[/i][/sup][/color][/CENTER][table][row][/row][row][cell][center][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T[/color] [color=lightgray]C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T[/color] [/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019a7ba8-909f-77bd-a2ee-077807c723ee.webp[/img] [sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y[/color] [color=lightgray]C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [sub][COLOR=darkgray]Eric Brooks // Greg Saunders[/COLOR] [sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=darkgray]36 // 29[/COLOR] [sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=darkgray]Prarie Troubadors[/COLOR] [b]|[/b] [COLOR=darkgray]American[/COLOR][/sub][/center] [indent][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S[/color] [color=lightgray]A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [INDENT][hider=][color=#2e2c2c]-[/color] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] A L L I E S[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray]◼ Hannibal King[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ Frank Drake[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ Quincy Harker[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ Sir Justin Arthur, Shining Knight[/color] [/color][/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] A N T A G O N I S T S[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray]◼ Dracula, Prince of Lies, King of Vampires[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ Xarus, Son of Dracula[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ Deacon Frost[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ William Mowse, The Black Star[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ Arcade[/color] [/color][/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] I N T E R E S T E D[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray][color=lightgray]◼ Boston Brand, Deadman[/color] [color=lightgray]◼ Detective Chimp[/color] [/color][/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent][/hider][/INDENT][indent][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] P O S T C A T A L O G U E[/color] [color=lightgray]P O S T C A T A L O G U E[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]_________________________________________________________[/sup] [INDENT][hider=][color=#2e2c2c]-[/color] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] M I D N I G H T T R A I N[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [COLOR=darkgray]◼ [/color][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5635623]One[/url][/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent] [indent][sub][b][color=lightgray] A R C T W O[/color][/b][/sub] [sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent][/hider][/INDENT][/cell][cell][INDENT][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...[/color] [color=lightgray]T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=DARKGRAY][indent]I done a hundred different jobs over the years. Tending the farm with Pap, early mornings and long days, muscles aching from dragging farm equipment bigger n’ I was. Was a paperboy a little while. Became a fry cook in my teens and hated it more n’ anything. Was always more of a cow rearer than a burger flipper. Odd jobs after that, running round town like a headless chicken. I repaired shoes, was a tailor, forged a couple no-good sets of nails, sold power tools at some big box store, performed as a trickshooter, plus many more and many much less glamorous. Then, of course, there was the band. If you’ve heard of me from anywhere, it’s [i]there[/i]. Greg Saunders of the Prairie Troubadours, the best little rock band in Texas. Played in packed bars and talent shows and high school football games, anywhere that’d take us, and we [i]loved[/i] it. I was the dark horse of that band. Lead gee-tar, backup vocalist, wearing a cowboy hat darker n’ the night sky. We were gettin’ bigger by the day, livin’ in high cotton. Had fans following us in the rain, screaming our names. It was plain to us that a record deal’d be coming down soon. I took a little vacation. Just a week or two away from the boys to get back to my Pap’s old farm and jaw with him about how things were going for his kid. We were worried about selling out, see, wanted to keep the music pure. I thought my Pap would know more about that than anyone. He sure did, but… That conversation seems so far away now, so fanciful. We were talking about our harvest when the field lay fallow and dead before us. I came back to a bloodbath. I don’t remember what the cops told me. They dressed it all up in fancy language and condolences that fell on my ears like static from an unplugged amp. I begged and they let me see the pictures. Saw the whole band. Billy Gunn, Danny Leong, Bat Lash, Raph Sandoval… They were [i]bled[/i] to death, slaughtered like farm animals. The news crushed me beneath it like a bale of agony. The officers couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. They couldn’t decide if it was some serial killer or a one off incident, some spurned fan or a random attack. Not too long before they quit looking. Don’t know if they got paid off, or if they found something too terrible, too dangerous for them to continue. Don’t matter much now. What does is that I took it into [i]my[/i] hands. I took up the name Vigilante. In white hat and red bandana I ran down ne’er-do-wells of every stripe, grasping for leads about anyone who coulda done this. Wasn’t no investigator. Just a kid with a pair of handguns, a lariat, and a righteous fury. Roughed up city slickers and country crooks, gangsters and mafiosos. Inching closer to the truth. Got [i]good[/i] at it, running down leads, helping folk wherever I went. I rationalized what happened for myself as I worked. Surely it was a brutal hit or a depraved killer that took my friends from me. It took time to peel back the veil and peer at the hideous truth before me. Dead things walk among us. Zombies, ghouls, vampires. You can deny it if you like, but I ain’t got much time for doubters. I know what I’ve seen, men falling apart as they’re walking, creatures that fly on great leathery wings. I been on this trail five years now, searching for answers for that night. Finding the suckhead sons-of-bitches that done it. It's brought me to darker places than I could dream of… Places where things aren’t just bumping in the night. Places like that are where I met [i]him[/i]. Near as I can tell, he’s done just one job over these years, and that’s killing vampires. He tells me that he’s had a lot of names over the years, but that [i]Blade[/i] is the simplest. If he’s got a real name, he ain’t sharing it. He don’t share much, in fact, don’t talk too much at all. Least not to me. He’s a tall black feller who can be known by his habits of wearing heavy leather and shades absolutely everywhere he goes. Not to mention the sword hanging off his back. He’s the first professional vampire hunter I’ve ever met. He might be the best there ever was. But he avoids me like I’m slicker than pig snot on a radiator. Some country bumpkin, ruining his hunt. But I need him. Spent five years spinning my wheels with not much to show for it besides a pile of random mobsters and toughs in chains or dead. Comes a man like him, what actually knows what he’s doing? I can’t let him pass me by. [/indent][/COLOR] [INDENT][sub][sup][sub][h3][b][color=black] P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )[/color] [color=lightgray]P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )[/color][/b][/h3][/sub][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup] [COLOR=DARKGRAY][INDENT]Back in the saddle again. Trying to rediscover the passion that let me bang out posts like a maniac in my younger years, I'm rolling a combination of a character that has always spoken to me, and a comparatively new hotness that has captured my imagination. Blade and Vigilante will tear through the south, discovering all manner of strange places and circumstances perverted by vampiric machinations. The vampires' grip on the country and the world entire will prove deeper and more insidious than either man could ever imagine. But to be frank I don't have much of a plan. I have some cool allies and enemies I'd like to encounter, and I'd love the chance to write alongside and cross over with my friends again, simple as. The hope is to get into a rhythm and do a little more every day, and for me, this spooky pair is the ticket.[/INDENT][/COLOR][/cell][/row][/table][hr][/COLOR][/INDENT][/hider]