[CHAR] Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

[L4dyH4wke]

Hawkegirl

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Superhero/villain Name: Hawkegirl
Civilian Name: Rebekah Hall (Beka)
Origin city/Planet: Cairo, Egypt
Hometown: Coast City, California
Sex: female
Race: Thanagerian
Height: 6' 3"
Weight: 187 lbs
Age: 35 Birth Date: August 16th, 1985
Tier: lowish intermediate tier, can bench a car
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Costumed Appearance: Beka wears BDU camo pants and military work boots when in costume, and her Silver belt is always on with her police baton in it, costume or not. She wears very baggy hoodies with the sleeves and back cut out of them when in costume, as the hood helps to hide her face but still allows room for her MASSIVE WINGS. the sleeves being removed is purely an aesthetic choice, although Beka will claim "tactical advantage" when asked. she tends towards black camo for her pants and reddish brown for the hoodies. Her belt has a small loop in it for her Baton.

Civilian Appearance: Beka dresses fairly conservatively when not on the job as a police officer. She tends toward jeans and sweaters, with her hair in a braid or a bun. She always wears boots, no matter the occasion. The Silver belt is always on her person, though it seems to alter slightly to match the outfit, such as looking like a standard issue police belt when in uniform. Her police baton is always on her person, easily concealed by folding.

Icon: n/a??? maybe the wings???

Costumed Personality: Beka is very brusque and comes off as cold and detached in costume. She tries to be completely unrecognizable from her normal persona. She tends to have a bit more anger when in costume, but stays for the most part razor sharp in terms of detail and execution of a mission. she has a very dark sense of humor

Civilian Personality: Beka is outwardly cheerful and friendly to everyone she meets. she is often found helping those in need during her rounds, escorting small children and elderly citizens, rescuing lost toys and pets, doing anything she can to make her section of the city a nice place to be. he has a good reputation among the citizens. Inside her mind, however, Beka is always looking out for signs of larger trouble, and her inner thoughts and feelings tend towards the pessimistic.

Super abilities: Flight via wings, enhanced eyesight and hearing, thermal regulation (to a point), prolonged lifespan due to alien physiology, super strength

-Skills: Military/police training, krav maga and hand to hand combat training, some gun training

-Powers: flight, superstrenght

-Gadgets: Nth metal belt (neuroreactive, changes shape based on the wearers dress requirements), Nth metal Baton (looks like a folding police baton, still has the power to negate magic), police issue handcuffs

-Weapons: Nth metal Baton, small handgun (police issue 9 mil), tazer, can of MACE (get it?)

Civilian Occupation: Police officer, foot officer, former Military

Biography---------

Character History/Origin:

Beka was born in Cairo and raised there with her mother until she was ten years old. her mother Leila was a member of the Egyptian police force, and was fairly strict with Beka, enforcing a curfew and a tight study schedule. Studious and stubborn, Beka breezed through her schoolwork and would then use her free time to explore. She often found herself climbing to the tallest spires of churches and mosques to watch the daily goings on of the city. This resulted in scolding and punishment from her mother, who made quite an effort to keep her grounded. Beka was home tutored, not really getting much socialization from other kids her age; choosing instead to spend her time hanging around her next door neighbors pigeon coop. Three days before her tenth birthday, Beka's mother gave her a gift wrapped in gold paper. Inside were her mothers Silver belt and Baton, which Leila was never seen without. Beka was told that she would need to keep them with her always as they would protect her from harm. That night Leila went out on routine patrol and was never heard from again. She had left a note at the station, saying simply that she "must return home" and leaving contact information for Beka's father John.

Beka was flown to California and dropped into the care of her father and his wife and family. john was not very happy at the new addition to his family, taking very little part in the care of his daughter, and his wife was not much better. Beka finds out during puberty that once she takes her belt off at night she begun to develop wings, disappearing again once the belt was on. Beka immediately realized she had ZERO time for that, and begun wearing the belt constantly, realizing its form seemed to shift with her outfit. Beka was often overlooked or straight up ignored during the daily routine, and she spent her teenage years in and out of trouble with her parents for fighting and sneaking out. Her father enrolled her in a military education school in hopes of "instilling some discipline" into her, and the physical training and strict routine helped to get her mind back on track. the belt stayed with her, keeping her "secret" from the world. She decided to enlist after graduation, and completed two tours of duty with the Army.After retiring due to a minor injury, Beka remembered how much good her mother did as an officer and decided to follow in the same footsteps. She enrolled in the police academy immediately, hoping to feel closer to her mother. She currently spends her nights Vigilanting, trying to do as much good with her powers as she can with her badge.

Optional information
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Nemesis: N/A
Allies: N/A
Team: None yet

[Moonman]

Black Manta

Power Tier: Medium High

Supervillain Name: Black Manta

Civilian Name: Due to Black Manta's tendency to fabricate new identities on a whim, his real name is unknown. However, he does have a peculiar habit of using the name 'David' whenever a new persona is needed.

Origin city: Supposedly, Black Manta was born on his father's boat off the coast of Baltimore, Maryland.

Hometown/Base of Operations: Undisclosed location in Somalia

Sex: Male

Race: Human

Height: 1.93 metres

Weight: 113 kg

Age: Somewhere in the 30's-40's range.

Birth Date: While he presumably knows his own date of birth, Black Manta isn't the sort to talk about it.
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Costumed Appearance:

Hider

Civilian Appearance:

Hider

Icon: Outside of his helmet, Black Manta doesn't really bother with identifying marks.

Costumed Personality: Black Manta is a ruthless, immensely petty, and all-around vile individual. All of his joys, his hates, and his very purpose as a living being revolve around his campaign of vengeance against one man: Aquaman, and everything the Atlantean King cares for. Everything must be done at the expense of Aquaman, no matter how pointless or minuscule. Given that Aquaman ruined his life, Black Manta sees it as only right that he return the favour.

On occasion, however, he will unveil personal tragedies or a noble ambition, giving the impression that there is more to Black Manta than he lets on. Naturally, these are always hoaxes, fabricated by Black Manta solely to yank at his foes' heartstrings. He takes great joy in finding new ways to make his nemesis feel bad, after all.

Be that as it may, he's not entirely devoid of humanity, and did genuinely love his father. At times, he can display an almost paternal -albeit incredibly harsh- attitude towards those working under him. Perhaps Black Manta could settle into a semblance of normality one day, but not before Aquaman and everything he stands for is gone.

Civilian Personality: Deep down, in his most secret heart of hearts, Black Manta is still a totally depraved sonofab**** whose main goal in life is to watch Aquaman die.

Super abilities:

-Skills:

Athleticism: Black Manta is in impeccable physical condition, largely due to his harsh childhood and years of intensive training. His strong points are largely his strength, stamina, and explosive bursts of speed. Additionally, he is an excellent swimmer, able to rival even the finest Olympic contenders without his equipment. However, Black Manta is limited by his purely human physiology, and while he remains incredibly dangerous, suit or no suit, there's only so much he can do against metahuman abilities.

Combat training: Black Manta was taught to fight at a young age, and continues to refine his martial talents on a regular basis. If one were to describe his approach to fighting, direct and savage would be among the first words to come to mind. He cares little for sophisticated forms or honourable combat, preferring to simply brutalize his opponent by whatever means are available. Furthermore, Black Manta is proficient with a broad variety of weaponry, ranging from the mundane (primarily knives, katars, harpoons, firearms, and his own body) to the bizarre, like coins and helmet-mounted optic lasers.

Terrifying Presence: Between his demeanour, temper, and reputation for lethality, Black Manta possesses a remarkable aptitude for scaring the daylights out of most people. Unless you're exceptionally brave, strong, or stupid, you do what the angry man with the comically gigantic helmet says.

Nautical Artisan: As a former employee of STAR Labs, Black Manta has developed quite the affinity for metalworking and electronics, especially in the realm of nautical armaments. In fact, he served to spearhead a number of technological innovations, all for the sake of killing Aquaman. Thus, Black Manta is more than capable of performing field repairs, modifications, and the occasional upgrade for his arsenal. However, as his new line of work precludes access to the resources he once had, there are definite limits on what he can whip up.

-Powers:

-Gadgets:
Black Manta's Suit: Once a humble diving suit, Black Manta has painstakingly remodelled it to better combat Atlantean scum. As a result, it provides him a wide range of, shall we say, 'superhuman' abilities. They will be described below.

• To better protect Black Manta from the elements, his suit sports a hermetic and bio-electric seal, preventing even microscopic intrusions. This also serves to shield him from Atlantean telepathy and hydrokinesis, as they rely on transmission via moisture and bio-electric signals.
• Having enhanced its deep-sea diving capabilities, Black Manta's suit can easily withstand both extreme temperatures and levels of water pressure sufficient to kill a normal man several times over.
• By way of a turbine-based propulsion device mounted in the suit's 'backpack', Black Manta can achieve speeds that would make most forms of marine life envious. It also has the added bonus of enabling Black Manta to launch himself out of the water and reach substantial heights, for those occasions in which such a feature would be useful.
• The suit is equipped with artificial gills and an internal oxygen supply, permitting Black Manta to breathe underwater for an indefinite period, and spend extended intervals in similarly dangerous environments (space, toxic atmospheres, etc.).
• Through largely unspecified means, Black Manta's suit provides him with superhuman strength and durability on a level comparable to Aquaman. As no single part of the suit seems to be the source of these enhancements, 'depowering' Black Manta usually requires that one destroy or disable the entire suit.
• Black Manta's distinctive helmet serves as the centrepiece to his ensemble, providing a suite of utilities. The shell is fashioned out of exceptionally durable metal, and serves as the 'cap' on the suit's seal. As for the optics, in addition to the iconic energy blasts, they're also fitted with infrared vision and a digital scope for precision shots. While the power of its blasts are variable, the more powerful ones are capable of melting Atlantean armour and scorching the flesh of superhumanly durable individuals.
• The gloves on Black Manta's suit can produce electrical discharges sufficient to harm most metahumans, and can potentially knock them unconscious in the right circumstances.
• The right glove in particular sports a wrist-mounted harpoon launcher, a personal favourite of Black Manta. In addition to normal harpoons, Black Manta will also utilize explosive, electrified, and grappling varieties.
• Two pairs of knives are stored within compartments on the suit's 'backpack' and sheaths on the boots. Whatever they're made of, they can pierce Atlantean armour and flesh with ease; moreover, much like his gloves and harpoons, they can generate substantial electrical discharges.
• A recent addition to the arsenal, Black Manta's suit has been fitted with a 'cuttlefish mode', allowing him to replicate the appearance of anyone to near-perfection. However, the lack of proper voice modulation does limit its capabilities somewhat.

THE MANTA-SUB: Black Manta hasn't actually built this yet, but he plans to.

-Weapons:
Note: This mainly covers the weapons that aren't integrated with his suit.

Katars: They're sharp, silly-looking, and used to stab people. They don't do anything overly special, but Black Manta likes to use them every once in a while.

Harpoon Gun: A bigger, but still man-portable variation of the harpoon launcher on his wrist. It functions in largely the same way, just with more stopping power.

Trident: A placeholder for when he decides to make one to spite Aquaman.

Civilian Occupation: Hating Aquaman is his day-job.

Biography---------

Character History/Origin: If one were to ask Black Manta for his life story, the answer would almost assuredly be a lie, albeit a strangely creative one. Now, entertaining as it would be to cover Black Manta's concocted tragedy of the week, there is a time to indirectly accuse Aquaman of hating minorities, and now is not that time. Instead, it's time to directly accuse Aquaman of being a violent murderer. Let's get to it, then.

The child that would become Black Manta was born, fittingly enough, off the Atlantic coast of the United States of America. His parents were just returning from a personal cruise of sorts when his mother went into labour. Unable to reach a hospital in time, his father was forced to conduct the delivery himself. In spite of frankly horrid conditions and the absence of either trained medical professionals or sufficient medical equipment, the child was delivered without issue.

This, like much of Black Manta's early childhood, is largely irrelevant to the man he is today. The only event of real impact on his history would occur a few years later, when the boy's mother left them over something his father was never overly keen on discussing. Thus, the lad was raised solely by his rather austere and nautically-inclined father.

As the man wanted his son to be strong, his expression of fatherly love oft took the form of strenuous exercise and sparring, interspersed with casual fishing, rudimentary homeschooling, and the occasional 'dad talk'. Eventually, in the interest of ensuring his son's future, the man sent him off to receive a formal education. The boy fared surprisingly well, and eventually worked his way into the field of mechanical engineering. Lamentably, the family's shaky finances prevented the boy from further exploring his talents, at least for the time being.

Once the boy grew old enough, he began assisting his father with -and ultimately embarking on- deep-sea dives for buried treasure. It wasn't the most comfortable existence, sure, but it was idyllic in its own way. Some time later, however, it all came crashing down.

The boy was now a man in his prime, and had largely taken over the diving end of the business from his aging father. On one such dive, the man attracted some unwanted attention, that of an Atlantean. Unbeknownst to the two men, their latest find was an ancient Atlantean tomb, and someone had been sent to apprehend these 'grave-robbers'. The Atlantean went for the ship first, and caught the father by surprise. Old as the father was, the struggle proved too much for him, and his heart gave out.

The suddenness of the father's death shocked the Atlantean, and delayed any further action just long enough for the son to return. On arrival, the man was treated to the sight of his father's dead body, held in the arms of the apparent culprit. While the murderer appeared human, something seemed wrong about them. Though the man would soon learn of the reason behind this apparent wrongness, his attention was focused more on the immediate. Whoever, whatever they were, they'd killed his father, and they had to pay.

Unfortunately, the Atlantean proved too slippery for the young man, and escaped before proper retribution could be meted out. For a time, he simply stewed in a mixture of rage and grief, unsure of what to do. However, the man eventually regained his composure, and so began his quest for vengeance. First, the son buried his father, and assumed full ownership of the 'family business'. Next, he sold their house and most of the family's extraneous belongings, retaining only what he deemed necessary for his plan.

By way of and relentless bribery and lies, the man wormed his way into a leading position in STAR Labs, under the name of 'Cornelius Carver', a rising star and visionary in the realm of deep-sea exploration. To say that his tenure at STAR was corrupt would be an understatement. During his rampant exploitation of STAR Labs' patronage, he would gladly pawn off the plans for promising inventions to such disreputable conglomerates as the Death Syndicate and Lundgrau. For the sake of his revenge, 'Professor Carver' would gladly stoop to anything, caring little for the consequences.

Over the years, the man's work slowly bore the fruit he desired. With the assets and manpower of STAR Labs at his disposal, 'Professor Carver' headed the development of several seemingly innocuous technologies (Such as mechanical gills, 'breech-proofed' rubber, underwater mining lasers, etc.), whilst secretly incorporating them into a personal project, jokingly nicknamed 'Project Devil Ray' by his closer co-workers.

Once the project was complete, 'Professor Carver' went on vacation, and the man re-entered under the guise of a humble janitor. When the time was right, the next step of his plan was put into action. First, he systematically purged all records and blueprints of his work, seeking to prevent 'copycats'. Next, he covertly eliminated any of his co-workers with extensive knowledge of the project, mostly via cleverly arranged accidents while in the field or laboratory. Finally, he donned the suit, and departed from STAR Labs to pursue his true calling: vengeance.

Declaring himself Black Manta, the man embarked on a hunt for another one of those 'aquatic men'. This would prove surprisingly simple, as one of the poor sods had wandered off alone in pursuit of a particularly colourful octopus.

After dragging his target to the surface, Black Manta proceeded with an interrogation, intent on uncovering as much as he could regarding this mysterious species. From the thoroughly terrified creature, he learned the following: their kind were known as Atlanteans, and they lived in a kingdom hidden beneath the seas. Most notably, their ruler was one Orin, a man beloved throughout all of Atlantis. He also learned a great deal about their biology, such as how long it takes for the average Atlantean to start suffocating in open air. Once he'd learned all he could from the Atlantean, Black Manta gutted the creature, and abandoned the carcass in a nearby dumpster.

Since then, Black Manta has become a shadowy terror of the depths, engaging in everything from bombing runs to simple murders. But, this does little to satisfy his thirst for vengeance, and the chances of him encountering the killer after so long are slim to none. Thus, Black Manta made a resolution: If he couldn't find whomever was responsible, he'd simply have to make all of Atlantis suffer the same pain. With that in mind, what better target was there than the father to all of the nation's people, King Orin?

At present, Black Manta is off the coast of Somalia, seeking to expand his enterprise.

Optional information
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Nemesis: Aquaman, Aquaman's family and friends; and, by extension, the entire Atlantean race.
Allies:
Team:

[Zero Hex]

King Snake

Supervillain Name: King Snake
Civilian Name: Sir Desmond Dorrance
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Height: 6’3’’
Weight: 195 pounds or so
Age: 57
Origin city/Planet: London
Hometown: Primary base of operation in Shanghai, cells of followers in Hong Kong and Macau, smaller cells scattered in US chinatowns. Personal lodgings in London.
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Appearance:


Here have a little gallery for details: imgur.com/a/66L0A

Gaunt for his height but built wiry and taut as though he were corded from steel cables, the striking surfaces of his body hardened and calloused beyond all reason, King Snake makes for a striking figure and bears two obvious eyecatches. The first, of course, is the mark of his namesake: a massive viper nests upon his chest, coiled and fangs exposed, ready to bite down on prey. The other are the brutal scars upon his back, a collection of crisscrossing markings that suggest a truly horrifying suffering lived long ago.

Thanks to these peculiarities and his powerful build and presence, King Snake doesn’t bother much with costumes. His regular outfit consists of a green dress shirt, white trousers and white dress loafers, along with a white jacket in the style of a mao suit. A pair of black gloves tend to complete his look, along with the nearly ever-present shades to hide the fact that his eyes have long gone dead and blank. He will also, at times, swap for white kung fu pants with wrappings around his feet and shins, black kung fu slippers, handwraps and a golden sash.

Icon: His snake tattoo.

Civilian Occupation: Head of the Society of the Snakes in Shadows, often simplified from its full chinese name as just the Ghost Snakes.

Personality:
King Snake likes to present himself as an educated, smooth talking rogue, an always calm and self assured crime lord with a penchant for dramatization and grandstanding, as well as a great love for the many pleasures life has to offer. Though he can come across as something of a pompous hedonist at times, he holds himself to extremely high standards. Noblesse oblige, as it were. A very active, adventurous man who just can’t accept having others do his work for him, he is absolutely manic in his pursuits and even has something of a personal code, finding deceit and treachery rather beneath him and holding his word and honor to a very high value.

Having said all of this, the man is still an unrepentant, cold-blooded villain who puts himself above all else and sees no problem with wronging others if it serves his own purposes. For his villainy, Sir Desmond Dorrance sees opposing the forces of order as a great adventure, a personal test, somewhere he can get the ultimate thrills in life. And for him, there is no greater thrill than the way of combat. A dedicated martial artist who sees bloodshed as a deeply personal, elegant art, especially when faced with worthy adversaries, he is against wanton carnage or systematic extermination, seeing them as dull and impersonal corruptions of his craft.

Super abilities:
Powers:
-The body a fortress: It bears saying right now, King Snake is literally, legitimately blind and has been for a long time. Despite this apparent clear-cut handicap, however, the man has risen in the underworld primarily through his physical might. Always an athletic and gifted fighter, now rejuvenated through ancient medicine and empowered by the Totem of the Snake, Sir Desmond Dorrance is a finely honed killing machine, ahead of even the most skilled “street powerhouses” in ways should not be possible for a human being.

Though he isn’t as purely strong as those (in his powerscale) who dedicate themselves to muscle, he is still freakishly powerful for his build, and it is everywhere else where he shines best. His speed, agility, flexibility, reflexes, precision and coordination are staggering; allowing him to perform feats such as catching sustained barrages from lethal marksmen with minimal effort, throwing a knife faster than a room of people can follow, easily outmaneuvering world class fighters and performing seemingly gravity defying leaps even from the least stable of footing.

Outstandingly tough, he can be struck and sometimes stunned and be made to bleed, yes, but it seems to take far more effort than it should. King Snake can continue performing efficiently even when severely injured, and doesn’t appear to tire unless severely pressed and harmed. Though not a regenerator per se, wounds that would fell lesser men fail to do the trick on him, disease and toxins and the like appear to take little to no hold in him, and he can often grit his teeth and survive until he can receive medical aid and return soon and well.

-The mind a temple: To make up for his blindness, King Snake’s hearing, smell, touch and even taste have developed to superhuman levels, providing him with an enormous amount of information on his surroundings that he interprets as an extremely vivid mental “image”. In order to properly process and manage all of this, avoiding sensory overload and allowing him to function as a lethal fighter, his mind has developed to the point where it operates faster and more efficiently, enhancing his intellect and ability to learn, adapt and think on his feet, and making it so sharp and focused it has become all but impervious to outside interference.

Skills:
-Fangs of the Viper: King Snake is a lethal martial artist, having synthesized his own fighting style which he perpetually seeks to improve upon. It is fast, sinuous and fluid much like Snake forms of kung fu, entwining, dodging, deflecting, redirecting and attacking precisely from advantageous angles, deceptive to the point where even those with extrasensory perceptions that should be able to see through his intentions can be fooled. Through proper technique, he can defend himself from attacks that surpass his impressive physical traits, and he can strike with shocking, snapping power that exceeds his pure lifting strength from nearly all positions and distances.

Two particular things stand out from Sir Dorrance’s fighting skills, first and foremost being his “venom”. The sum total of all his abilities, King Snake is preternaturally capable of attacking vulnerable spots and overcoming defensive measures, his attacks effective even against armor, beings more powerful than he or even those otherwise unaffected by mere physical trauma. Second is the power of his hands, usually one of the most vulnerable parts of the body. King Snake’s fingers act like his namesake’s fangs, his grip is disproportionately powerful and he can easily tear off or stab through flesh, even being capable of piercing and crushing rock and metals (within “reason”).

-Beware what lurks in shadows: King Snake is a proficient assassin and infiltrator. Aside from his physical skills he is outstanding at operating stealthily, making not a single noise and blending into environments as a serpent blends into foliage, finding cracks in defensive systems and navigating situations where less physically capable agents would fail. The dark is where his abilities truly shine, as those who rely on their eyesight find themselves at the mercy of someone who has long forsaken his.

-Renaissance man: Sir Desmond Dorrance was already an intelligent, driven and educated individual before his rebirth as King Snake. Ever since he has made amazing strides, becoming a resourceful polyglot and polymath, using his knowledge to further help him navigate around his blindness and form organizations around him. He is, however, still obsessed with martial skill above all, and will more often than not prefer to engage in it rather than falling back on any other field.

-Crime lord: King Snake is currently on his second attempt at a criminal empire, after the rapid rise and catastrophic fall of the first, and the lessons he learned at the cost of his eyes have made him much more successful so far. As the head of the Society of Snakes in Shadows, Sir Dorrance has a good array of contacts, informants and “providers” for all manner of needs, as well as a cadre of often personally trained enforcers skilled both in the martial arts and in more mundane but modern means of waging war.

A relatively smaller but elusive and widespread organization, his soldiers come from all walks of life. Though the core is made up of disenfranchised street youth given purpose, a better life and shaped into a fighting force, the society’s ranks includes drivers, waiters, maids, factory workers and desk jockeys, all sorts. They are all fanatically loyal and they are often hidden in plain sight, waiting for King Snake’s command. He also possesses ample resources to call upon and can facilitate most things that money can buy and plenty that money can’t.

-Gadgets: Rarely ever carries anything, relying on his own strength instead.

-Weapons: Although he is quite skilled in the use of a wide variety of both modern and more classical weaponry, King Snake prefers to rely on his own abilities. Discretion, however, is the better part of valor, and so he tends to carry six small throwing blades just in case, as well as a hook on a long, thin fiber line that can be used for both utility and offensive purposes. He also carries a collapsible white cane, used for masquerading as a blind socialite and to humiliate weak assailants.

Biography---------
Character History/Origin:
TLDR: Former british marine is blinded while attempting to establish a criminal empire in China, falls in with a kung fu cult and is empowered by a mythical snake totem. Now he returns with a vengeance.

Desmond Dorrance was born in 1962 in the less than welcoming parts of London. A lanky and self-conscious youth mocked for his early growth spurts, a desire to better himself led him to discover training in the martial arts, fighting, and that he was quite talented at both. Soon he found that the name calling mattered less and less to him as he improved in skill and his confidence grew in turn, though his need to climb ever higher away from his humble beginnings never left him. By age 18 he had joined the british navy as a Royal Marine, guaranteeing himself greater education and an environment that would nurture his gift for violence.

Extremely driven, regarded as almost manic by his peers, by age 24 Dorrance had reached captaincy. The marine distinguished himself in engagements against increasingly desperate communist guerrilla activity based in East and Southeast Asia, from where they struck out primarily as pirates plaguing both the west and their own. China, still under communist rule but opening to the world at large, denounced these movements and cooperated with other navies to quell what they saw as disruptive insurrections that the Party could not tolerate. It was during these travels that Dorrance spent time in and became enamored with the “Middle Kingdom”.

A pivotal moment came when Dorrance was wounded in the line of duty by age 26, acting as a bodyguard to british dignitaries including a member of the royal family in Beijing. Desmond protected the diplomatic mission to discuss further cooperation between China and the west, foiling an assassination attempt that sought to destabilize the eastern power and create tension between the countries. Hailed as a hero, he was given an honorary knighthood as he recovered in Beijing and was granted an honorable discharge at his request. In the decade that followed, Sir Dorrance established himself as a socialite in Britain and China, building bridges between the countries as he amassed a fortune for himself.

Accusations of foul play were levied towards Desmond in his meteoric rise to fortune, but few could fathom the depths of his corruption. Tired of serving others, of risking life and limb for a flag he felt nothing for, Sir Dorrance struck out on his own in Asia, the law be damned. Accompanied by several former soldiers he started a mercenary and smuggling venture in the turbulent waters. Having learned much from pirates and guerrillas and their failings during his military career, the highly successful Desmond managed to keep airtight secrecy about his activities even as he gathered more and more men under his command and immersed himself in the underground martial arts culture in China, forging himself into an outstanding figure.

Sir Dorrance’s operation rose from a smuggling ring to the upstart to watch within the chinese underworld, the so called Rising Dragon Clan. But that ancient, insular world of long upheld traditions was incensed by the foreign invader, they would not allow the british intrusion to begin anew. Acting in far greater concert and force than their usual methods, an alliance of Triads destroyed the Clan to a man in the span of a week, its assets acquired and split between those who led the operations. During the assault Sir Dorrance was captured, tortured and left broken and dying. But die he didn’t. He had lost his eyes, his honor and everything he had ever worked for, but within him burned a terrible vengeance.

For three years he worked like a man possessed, making a recovery that astounded the doctors he managed to buy with what valuables he had left, who thought he’d be lucky to walk again. In his fury he dove deeper into the martial arts, using them as a means to overcome his handicap and advancing his fighting skills by leaps and bounds. Word of his survival spread but it was seen as trifling matter, just a crippled madman seeking bogus enlightenment. A few cooler heads saw it fit to worry, but their peace of mind returned when Desmond vanished in the area around Mount Tai and was presumed dead. Instead, within the Great Mountain of China Sir Dorrance found his destiny.

An outsider who experienced a rapid rise, catastrophic fall and subsequent battle with disability, Desmond fit within an old prophecy, marking him as one who might carry the legacy of the Snake Clan. The stories he had long heard whispered were real. The mythical sub society of martial artists, adventurers and mystics known as the Wulin existed, and he had come to their doorstep. Guided to their hidden temple within one of the most important landmarks in the country he was offered a choice: he could restore his eyesight and return to the mundane world, or blinded he could seek ever greater heights he had never even dreamed of. Desmond did not hesitate.

Though he was now 40 time was of no consequence, for the Clan held one great asset. Using primordial substances of the Earth with regenerative properties and the lethal venom of snakes they concocted arcane potions and performed strange rituals, strengthening their own against the passage of time. Though his eyes were left dead and blank, instead his other senses developed monstrously to compensate. It was maddening, it was intoxicating power. Fifteen long years of training the body and mind followed, and Desmond was not alone. Others risen and fallen, all of them disabled in some manner, were to be the rivals for his ambition, but he would not be denied and he once again excelled.

At the end of the period, only one other remained. Mei Xue was beautiful, her skin the palest, purest white, her gaze like gold, her hair like silk and black as the night. Born deaf and having adapted admirably over the years, she had been rescued from poverty by the selfless head of a martial arts school. Under him she learned, she prospered and she grew to love him, and his untimely passing and the closing of his school shattered her. She became a death seeker, challenging others in increasingly brutal duels until the Clan found her and gave her a new purpose. Sir Desmond Dorrance was smitten with her, and ignorant of his past she grew attracted to him as a kindred soul forced to fight the cruelty of the world.

Dorrance truly wanted to love Mei Xue, yet he also hated her for he very quickly realized she was his superior in talents and skills. He hated that she was bound to claim the title he sought and above all he hated that she would never accept his ways, that any moment spent with her threw his mind into disarray. Desmond’s ambitions took hold. He could not let this stand, he would not serve again. Covertly, slowly, as the years passed and students dropped out of the running, healed of their imperfections and deprived of much of their former powers, he spread his influence. He had the ear of the youngest and most malleable, earned himself their loyalty, planted in them thoughts of taking power once more.

With only him and Mei Xue left, the final test was at last announced: an honorable race through the labyrinthine caverns under the mountain, filled with traps and deadly creatures, with the coveted title as the prize. The former marine’s estimations of the beloved’s skills were not wrong, she was his superior, he could not best her directly. But he would not lose. Instead, at an intersection, he deceived her, lured her to the dark where she would not be able to read him. There he embraced her, he confessed his heartfelt love for her and as she stood momentarily stricken Sir Desmond Dorrance slew the last person he ever truly cared for, carrying her body out as he emerged from the caverns to claim his title.

The clan elders were outraged at what they saw as a clear breach of honor and sought to deny Dorrance his position and cripple him anew now they saw him for what he was. In turn, Desmond was outraged that he would be denied what he felt he had rightly earned and what he had sacrificed so much for. But had planned for this, he knew the chinese would never truly accept a westerner. In a spiral of madness, Sir Dorrance and the followers he had gained attacked and the Temple of the Snake was ravaged by the battle. The instructors were struck down one after the other and as the tragedy unfolded, the spirit of the great snake awoke and watched with bemused interest.

Make no mistake, it too would have favored kindly Mei Xue, many of its past champions had been heroes. But the totem represented all aspects of the being, and this included its malice, its venom, its cunning and deadliness, and it was by this judgement that Sir Desmond Dorrance was deemed worthy. Once again he had risen above all expectations, surpassed every obstacle put in front of him and despite great suffering he had elevated himself above the rabble as he always knew he would. It was his destiny. Sir Desmond Dorrance was now King Snake, and the newly crowned monarch had a score to settle with those that had sought to end him before he could claim what was rightfully his.

Silently, he slithered outside the temple with his cadre of disciples and extended his grasp, slowly but surely coiling himself around those who had wronged him. For two years he collected more followers and whipped them into shape, creating a force far more sinister than his first, clumsy attempt. In two years he rebuilt what had once taken him ten to create, and in these two years he hid patiently and waited. He had called himself a dragon before, but now he realized the true danger lay not in the thunder on the horizon but within the shadows by your feet. A lesson he would soon impart.

[Sir Lurksalot]

Some homeless kid

Watchdog

=========

Superhero Name: Watchdog
Civilian Name: Malcolm Talhaiarn
Origin city/Planet: Bludhaven, New York
Hometown: Bludhaven, New York
Sex: Male
Race: Metahuman
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 110 lbs.
Age: 11
Birth Date: Found in a dumpster as a newborn on February 1, 2009, so that's what he goes by.
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Costumed Appearance: Lacking much in the way of resources or indeed, any notion that he's actually anything close to a bonafide Superhero, Malcolm makes do with what little he has; garbing himself in an old, worn-out denim jacket that seems much too big for his tiny frame, an old white wifebeater, a ratty pair of jeans and some sneakers that've seen better days. Covering his face he has... a simple black rag and a pair of old welding goggles to cover his glowing orange eyes (though they don't do much to obscure their light when he opens them) and a ratty old Bludhaven Brawlers ballcap over a what would be a mop of unruly brown hair if he didn't shave it down to a buzz as often as he can, both to keep lice at bay and to not have something that could be easily grabbed onto attached to his head.

Finishing off his raggedy outfit is pair of equally raggedy black batting gloves, worn from use and full of holes, especially over the the index and middle knuckles of each hand revealing flesh that's almost always cut or scabbed-over from being a the punches he throws on a nightly basis.

All in all, not exactly the flashiest of costumes, but there is a subtle, unintentional genius to it in that when his eyes are closed, he is virtually indistinguishable from any other of the myriad homeless youth in Bludhaven, and is very likely to be ignored by any passers-by.

Civilian Appearance: To be perfectly honest... Malcolm doesn't really get out much, and the 'costume' listed above makes up pretty well all of the clothing he owns. So when he does go out to do normal homeless boy things, it's usually in the exact same outfit with his eyes closed beneath his goggles to hide their glow and the rag dangling around his neck. Those few that actually know him well enough to see him without all the headgear and his jacket, however, would see him for what he truly is; a pale, scrawny caucasian kid who looks more than a little hungry usually sporting some kind of cut or bruise and a crescent-shaped scar around his left eye which he owes to a broken beer bottle he took to the face and many more across his body, some of which are still healing.

His most defining feature, however, is clearly his eyes; in that, where there once was a steelish grey, there is now a fiery, glowing orange, visible even through the goggles he wears... which really puts a dampener on that whole 'Living a normal life in civilized society' thing, even for a homeless kid.

Icon:

Costumed Personality: Watchdog (as urban superstition has named Malcolm) is, by reputation, relentless, unyielding, fighting with the ferocity of a wild animal yet still having the uncanny precision to hit you exactly where it will hurt most. Preferring ambush and pragmatism to theatrics and any notion of a fair fight, Watchdog has a singular talent for adaptation and improvisation, leveraging anything and everything he can to his advantage while denying the same to his enemies and making up for his modest size with quick thinking and sheer determination.

All that said, Malcolm has no interest in fame or fortune, and high-tails it whenever he sees the press on their way. This has led to extraordinarily embellished tales of the lad in the local rumour mill, cobbled together by the people he's fought, those he's saved and anyone else who may have happened to spot him in the past year; Depending on who you ask, the 'Watchdog of Bludhaven' is either a bloodthirsty alien monster, some escaped government experiment living in the sewers or a vengeful spirit sent up from the depths of Hell itself to punish the wicked.

All of these guesses are, of course, completely insane.

...But, to be frank, "Starving homeless kid who sneaks up on crooks and beats them bloody with a lead pipe" is a pretty crazy statement in itself anyway, so who is anyone to judge?

Civilian Personality: Malcolm is, for lack of a better way of putting it, a walking, talking stereotype of the Bludhaven lower-class; brutally frank, indomitably stubborn, clever in the worst possible way and possessing a potent mixture of pluck and grit with a healthy dash of crazy. That said, the lad has a big heart... ironically, you'd have to in order to survive a Bludhaven slum, where everyone who isn't a gun-toting psychopath is all in it together, and has no small reserve of compassion and kindness, and would give you the shirt off his back if the ratty rag would get you through on more night... even if his words wouldn't exactly match his actions.

...Or at least, that's how he used to be.

Nowadays Malcolm is just... tired... and angry. Hardly sleeping as even when he closes his eyes, he can see all the violence and murder happening in the streets of Bludhaven through his eyelids and even when he does, his sleep is plagued by nightmares. Between all that and the fact that he's basically constantly on the verge of starving to death, the only things keeping the lad on his feet these days are rage and sheer force of will.

Super abilities:

Skills

Lockpicking: To the surprise of... pretty much no one if you think about it, picking a lock becomes a lot easier when you can actually see inside the damned thing.

Parkour: Growing up in an urban slum, Malcolm has always had a knack for maneuvering around the city in some unconventional ways, more often for fun than anything. But now, with his new vision, reflexes and body-coordination, he damn near flies across rooftops and down alleyways, maneuvering through the urban jungle with astonishing ease... provided he manages to get a good meal in first, of course.

Doing so burns a lot of calories, and he hasn't exactly got much to spare in the first place.

Combatives Training: Malcolm's adoptive father, being a former Marine raising a kid in a slum in one of the most dangerous cities in the whole United States, had the forethought to pass on his old tricks to his son. It sure ain't pretty but it is undoubtedly effective, especially when combined with Malcolm's unique abilities, and provides a solid base for the lad to adapt, tweak and add onto by his own experiences.

Budding Mechanical Acumen: Being able to see inside or through anything that isn't made of lead has it's benefits, one of them being being able to directly observe the guts of a machine to see how it works. At the present, the only thing Malcolm really gets out of these observations are insights into sabotage and the occasional bit of MacGuyvering... but the lad learns quick, and with the right tools and someone to guide him, he could make for one hell of a mechanic or engineer.

Polyglot: The slums of Bludhaven are a surprisingly diverse place, and Malcolm has grown up around a lot of people from a lot of places who speak a lot of languages. As a result, although the boy is only literate in English, he is conversational in Ukrainian, Italian, Spanish and Cantonese.

Powers

Omnivision: By far Malcolm's most drastically superhuman ability, the boy is able to perceive almost the entire Electromagnetic Spectrum, being able to see infrared, ultraviolet, electrical currents and even straight through solid objects. And that's not even mentioning how he also possesses telescopic vision up to five miles, see in absolute darkness and can even comprehend soundwaves. There are some caveats to this, however; Firstly, he can't see through lead. Secondly, there is no off-switch, and his brain is processing all this information at the same time, the end result painting a picture of a nightmarish world wreathed in flame that Malcolm can never escape, even when he closes his eyes. Which, considering the events of the past year prove two things.

One, that there is a God.

And two, he's kind of a dick.

Enhanced Brain/Nervous Function: Malcolm's brain, as a side-effect from being able to function under the strain of everything listed above, has effectively been kicked into high gear, processing information at nearly ten times the rate of a normal human being. Though this does not inherently make him smarter than the average Joe, it does mean he can learn and retain information at several times the rate of a normal human being, with the added bonus of an eidetic memory; meaning that with time, and the proper instruction, he could prove to be one of the greatest minds of his generation.

Another, slightly more immediately advantageous side-effect of Malcolm's now overclocked brain is that, like his mental faculties, his reaction time and reflexes have been accelerated to ten times that of a normal human being. This, combined with his vision, makes the small, starving boy a legitimate force to be reckoned with as he can read an opponent's nerve impulses, body language and muscle contractions to get an idea of what they're doing and react to it before they're actually finished doing it. Additionally, this new, more efficient nervous system has granted the boy unparalleled bodily-coordination, allowing him to perform feats of dexterity and precision with ease that would be beyond even Olympic athletes and skilled craftsmen... which is quite handy when your life pretty much revolves around jumping off buildings and hitting bad guys with a lead pipe.

Gadgets:
-A few bobby-pins for lockpicking.
-His dad's old Zippo.

Weapons:
-A foot-and-a-half long piece of lead pipe.

Civilian Occupation: None

Biography---------

Character History/Origin: Bludhaven, a city with many names; The Devil's Tongue, The Big Dirty, The Bloody Haven, The Blud, Gotham's Toilet, etc... it was here on a frigid February evening that John "Mad Jack" Talhaiarn, former United States Marine and current owner of the clothes on his back and not much else, happened upon a screaming newborn baby in a dumpster behind a biker bar and across the road from a Denny's.

Thinking quickly, the man lifted the screaming infant out of the trash and pulled him into the warm confines of his parka as he began trudging his way through the heavy winter's snow towards the shanty town he called home. Talhaiarn had no idea what hell he was doing, but after a lifetime of mistakes that had led him down dark paths, disgraced and astray from his beloved Corps, he vowed to himself and any God who may've been listening, he was at least gonna get this one thing right-

Saving this fucking kid.

It took a bit of doing, and a little help from his neighbours to scrounge up and MacGuyver everything necessary to care for a newborn, but somehow he pulled it off.

After a week or so, the kid stopped screaming so much and started giggling whenever he caught wind of the old Marine near his makeshift crib. A few days after that, he started calling him "Malcolm" after his old man.

And some time after that, John Talhaiarn, a man who was both a living legend and a disgraced outcast of the United States Marine Corps... began to actually enjoy life again.

If there was anywhere to start this story, this would be it.

Mad Jack's boy grew up in their little Shanty Town, comfortably nestled in a wide alleyway, stubborn, tough and clever. With a tongue and wit sharp as any bayonet his Dad'd ever held in his former life but a heart as big and as bright as the goddamned sun. Never having much, but never really needing anything his little community couldn't provide anyway, Malcolm spent most of his days scouring the slums for anything he, his dad and his neighbours could use to make their lives easier, getting into all sorts of trouble with the other slum kids and sitting around with his dad, raptly listening to (heavily censored) war stories from his days in the corps.

It wasn't an easy life, by any means- But he was happy, so he never really gave a shit.

Though, if you've ever read a comic book, you probably have a good idea where this is going...

In the opening weeks of 2020, the five-year-long turf war between an alliance of the local Chinese Tongs, Russian Mafia and Irish gangs against the invading Aquila crime family of Gotham was reaching it's end, with the Aquilas emerging as the clear victors. In order to hunt down their rapidly scattering enemies and to send a very clear message about who was in charge now, Don Michael Aquila hired a 'specialist' from his hometown to get the job done-

Firefly. A psychopath with a flamethrower.

The night of January 31st was a relatively standard one for Malcolm; his "Aunt" Lin was cooking dinner over a drum fire, the Mikhailovich brothers were arguing in a heated, Slavic sort of way about... something stupid, from what Malcolm could gather as their confrontation shifted back and forth between Russian when they didn't want the kids to understand what they were saying and Ukrainian when they were too mad to give a shit, and Malcolm was sitting with a bunch of kids around his dad, who played Johnny Cash on a (mostly) intact guitar he and Malcolm had found the year before and the Shanty Town's local mutt, affectionately named 'Fleabag', was sprawled belly-up on Malcolm's lap being smelly and aggressively affectionate.

All-in-all, pretty normal... until something caught Fleabag's attention and she started barking up a storm. That being a charred... thing that vaguely resembled a person and stank of burnt meat that shambled it's way into their alleyway, gargling and hissing only one thing on what was left of it's vocal chords as a massive figure stepped out from shadows behind it and leveled a malevolent-looking device in the direction of everyone present;

"Help... me..."

All Malcolm can recall of what happened next was the sight, sounds and smell of everyone he'd ever loved or cared about being roasted alive to the chorus of screams and the demented laughter of the owner of a single eye encircled by scarred and burned flesh which shone with insidious ecstasy at the scene before it. And after that, nothing.

The next thing Malcolm remembers is crawling out from underneath the charred remains of his father, his dog and all the other kids.

It was his birthday.

At first, he could do nothing but sit there, shaking and trembling in silence as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was looking at, before realization slowly set in.

Then the crying started. Followed by the screaming.

And as the screaming gradually changed in pitch from horror and denial to pure outrage, something in the boy broke. The fire that consumed his family and friends slowly ebbed it's way back into his vision and consumed the whole world as he comprehended it, revealing to him nothing but violence and horror no matter where he looked, regardless of whether he wanted to see it or not.

Seemingly trapped in an eternally burning hellscape of violence and horror that he could not escape, even when he closed his eyes and in a fragile mental state, he could've easily bent or broken down. Instead, he got mad.

He got real mad.

Unable to sleep while seeing what he could, the lad eventually lashed out, more out of spite than any sense of justice, throwing himself into the fray against the criminal life within his slum with the frenzied anger of a mad dog... and then never stopped.

And so it was, that the myth of the Watchdog of Bludhaven was born.

Optional information
----------
Nemesis: Firefly
Allies:
Team:
(These are probably blank, unless you're the Batman analogue)

[Descartes]

Low Tier Street Level

Superhero/villain Name: Lex Luthor
Civilian Name: Alexei Luthorenko
Origin city/Planet: Earth
Hometown: Metropolis
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 210 lbs
Age: Mid Forties
Birth Date: September 28
--------
Costumed Appearance: N/A
Civilian Appearance
Icon: Superman's Emblazoned S
Costumed Personality: N/A
Civilian Personality: This iteration of Lex Luthor believes that everything that is going on in the universe is wrong, that he knows how to fix it, and that he will fix it. He sometimes will attempt to predict the future. As one might expect, his predictions some times come true and some times don't, to a degree that it could simply be considered blind probability. However, when certain things don't occur in the way he predicted, he will claim that things aren't happening as they should.

People shrug him off as being "crazy" or "eccentric". Biting comments are met with the claim that he's one of the few things actually going right and that it's everything else that's not as it should be, sometimes referring to himself as "Lex Luthor Prime", as if implying that he is the true and definite form of Lex Luthor, whatever that may entail.

Luthor's feels the most vitriol against Super Man, who he claims is "a perversion of the original". This hatred had pushed Luthor to purchasing obscene quantities of Kryptonite.

Super abilities:
-Skills: Genius level intellect, hand to hand combat, cutting deals
-Powers: None
-Gadgets: Whatever LexCorp and its subsidiaries make
-Weapons: Whatever LexCorp and its subsidiaries make
Civilian Occupation: CEO

Biography---------

Character History/Origin: The story of Alexei Luthorenko comes in two different accounts: That is, there is the official account that most people know and that is documented within different media in this universe, documented on government papers, and so on; as well as the version which the current, living Lex Luthor might tell to someone.

His official story states that Alexei Luthorenko was born in Metropolis to a family of immigrants from the Soviet Union and raised in Suicide Slum. When his parents died, Luthorenko made enough money off of the inheritance to start his own business, LexCorp. In his early years, LexCorp had grown tremendously due to Luthorenko's intellect as a business and ability to educate himself on different subjects. He had a reputation as a genius and a philanthropist, even running for political office. His story was the prime American dream: a young man born with nothing, picking himself up by the bootstraps and slowly climbing his way to success, carving out his own legacy.

Things did not continue this way. As his career had dragged on, the business man and philanthropist seemed to grow more nihilistic. It had been made known for years that he had made plans for suicide, usually stopped by therapists convincing him not to. That is, until one fateful day, when he jumped off a bridge. His body had not been found, and the business man was reported as dead.

Months later, another man going by the same description as Luthorenko was found in Gotham City, and the supposedly dead man had suddenly come back to life, even reclaiming his position as CEO of LexCorp, as if nothing had happened, however, as people spoke to him, especially news sources, he had peculiarly shortened his name from "Alexei Luthorenko" to simply "Lex Luthor".

Though he won't tell his entire life story to everyone, to someone he trusts, he might divulge his "true origin", though the validity of such claims seems more bizarre the more one listens to them. The accounts of his early life seem tame enough, in spite of contradictory evidence of things that have actually happened. According to Luthor, he was actually born in Smallville, where he lived his his parents and sister. He was known to be a genius from a young age, even skipping a grade. He met the love of his life in High School and spent a good chunk of his days reading comic books. He was a business man by nature, picking it as his profession, and moved on to found LexCorp.

When he grew old enough, acquiring enough capital, he settled down, back to his home town of Smallville with his wife. He stepped down as the CEO of LexCorp and started a comic book store in Smallville which he ran with his wife. This was until one day, on a late night walk, he looked up at the sky at a shooting star only to trip and fall. When he came to, he was in Gotham City and found that his entire world had changed.

However, there are no official documents ever stating that Lex Luthor was ever married, nor has there ever been any news that he was ever getting married; his birth certificate states that he was in fact born in Metropolis; and there are no reports of any comic book store in Smallville run by a couple. Thus, any claims of such can be chalked up as the ravings of a mad man.

Since his attempted suicide and later reclaimation of his company, Lex Luthor stopped showing signs of depression but began to exhibit symptoms of schizophrenia, often talking to himself. He looked at the world's super heroes as something garish and fake, and that none of them deserved their position as a super hero. His greatest target is Super Man, who he sees as a "perversion on the original" who needs to be purged. Though he had taken no overt offensive action against Super Man, Luthor has bought with a decent chunk of his company money, large quantities of kryptonite. He always carries at least a bit of kryptonite with him, just in case the opportunity arises. Enough so in fact that Luthor eventually got cancer.

Optional information
----------
Nemesis: Super Man
Allies: Workers around Metropolis
Team:

[Zero Hex]

Intermediate Powerhouse Tier+. Actual strength is about Intermediate Low and he lacks mass property damage features, but his skills make him far more dangerous, particularly in 1v1s, and his ability to harm most anything lets him punch up in class.

The Pale Count

Supervillain Name: The Pale Count of Nothing, Knight of the Bloody Rose, Eminence of Blades and Slayer of the Nightmaster (Nightslayer, if you will). Take your pick.
Civilian Name: Dorian Cornelius Timar-von Jelek. Or just Dorian von Jelek.
Origin city/Planet: Doomed and dead Vlatava bordering Hungary, family fled to Germany first then England
Hometown: Nomadic, has a few safe-houses and other properties spread about, family manor in St Albans, Hertfordshire, north of London
Sex: Male
Race: Human?
Height: Six feet one
Weight: 195 pounds or so
Age: 66

--------

Appearance:

Why yes, he does bear something of a resemblance to a certain british musician.

The Pale Count makes no attempt to hide his identity. A reasonably tall and athletically thin man with sharp, attractive features and impossibly well groomed milky white hair, he typically dresses in a simple but impeccable white dress shirt and black trousers with matching waistcoat, dress shoes and tie. Completing the outfit is a black trenchcoat and pitch black teashades to hide his red and deadened eyes, along with the occasional pair of black gloves, wide-brimmed hat and a small, preserved red rose for a lapel pin. And speaking of roses, when he is without clothing it’s impossible to miss the distinctive marking of a rose in red on his left breast, seemingly carved on the flesh first and inked after.

Icon:


Civilian Occupation: Rich person, vice enabler
Personality:
The Count is an educated, smooth talking rogue, an always calm and self assured daredevil with an oftentimes melancholic and world-weary air, though also given to an occasional penchant for dramatization and grandstanding as well as bouts of great passion. Known to enthusiastically partake in the many pleasures life has to offer, he can come across as a pompous hedonist at his worst but holds himself to extremely high standards. Noblesse oblige, as it were. A very active, adventurous man who would much rather do things himself than delegate, he is dedicated in his pursuits and even has something of a personal code, finding deceit and treachery rather beneath him and holding his word and honor to a very high value.

Having said all of this, the man is still an unrepentant villain, a cold blooded blackguard who sees no problem with wronging others and puts himself above all else. The Nightslayer opposes the forces of order simply because it is an adventure and a personal test, somewhere he can get his thrills in a life that grows increasingly dull, and his ultimate thrill is to risk his life against someone else’s. Particularly with blades, of course. Seeing bloodshed as a deeply personal, elegant art and especially when faced with worthy adversaries, for this reason Dorian is against wanton carnage or systematic extermination, seeing them as dull and impersonal corruptions of his craft.

Super abilities:
Powers:
-Mark of the Rose: Many years ago The Pale Count was marked by the Spirit of Murder, an independent aspect of the cosmic force of Death known as The Black or The Rot, and granted her boon in the shape of her rose sigil at the cost of dead eyes and skin cold and white as snow. The source of his exceptional prowess, or rather what allowed him to transcend all human reason and limits to achieve this prowess for himself, the Mark also gives Dorian a supernatural gift when it comes to inflicting harm to and ending the lives of all manner of beings, allowing him to seriously threaten adversaries that might otherwise be well above a man with a sharp piece of metal. And while blades are his preference and where his talents most shine, other means will also do should push come to shove.

-Eldritch vitality: It bears saying right now, The Pale Count is literally, legitimately blind and has been for a long time. However, one does not come to be known as The Eminence of Blades if one is truly handicapped, and his lack of eyesight does little to hinder him. Free of the limitations imposed upon humanity thanks to the Mark of the Rose, Dorian is a finely honed killing machine as of yet unburdened by age, ahead of even the most skilled “street powerhouses” in ways should not be possible for a mere man.

Though he isn’t as physically strong as those (in his powerscale) who dedicate themselves to muscle, there is a surprising unnatural power to his wiry frame, and as a fencer his other attributes come to the fore. While not quite a speedster, The Nightslayer’s speed, agility, flexibility, reflexes, precision and coordination are staggering, allowing him to perform feats such as deflecting barrages from lethal marksmen, throwing a knife faster than a room of people can follow, moving in bursts of clear superspeed, leaping through the air in defiance of gravity and easily outmaneuvering world class fighters lacking his gifts.

Outstandingly tough, he can be struck and sometimes stunned and be made to bleed, yes, but it seems to take far more effort than it should. The Count can continue performing efficiently even when severely injured, lives with horrendous pains like most can live with mild discomforts and doesn’t appear to tire unless severely pressed and harmed. Though not a regenerator per se, wounds that would fell lesser men fail to do the trick on him, disease and toxins and the like appear to take little to no hold in him, and he can often grit his teeth and survive until he can receive medical aid and return soon and well.

-A sharp mind: To make up for his blindness, the Nightslayer’s hearing, smell, touch and even taste have developed to superhuman levels, providing him with an enormous amount of information on his surroundings that he interprets as an extremely vivid mental “image”, as well as a supernatural sixth sense for threats to his well being. In order to properly process all of this, avoiding sensory overload and allowing him to function as a lethal fighter, his mind has developed to the point where it operates faster and more efficiently, enhancing his intellect and ability to learn, adapt and think on his feet, and making it so sharp and focused it has become all but impervious to outside interference.

-Amateur magician: Though not a wizard per se, The Pale’s mystical origins (in a way quite akin to a warlock’s dealings for power) and his involvement in such affairs have given him a solid enough grasp on the arcane. His eldritch powers on the fly are limited to a few simple spells, vastly less dangerous than his other skills, but he is fairly well informed on the supernatural, knows where he might find pertinent information should his knowledge be lacking and he can set about to cast more complex sorceries or concoct potions and other wizardly tasks with the use of spellbooks, scrolls and other aids should he ever feel the need.

-Skills:
-Eminence of Blades: The Knight of the Bloody Rose is, first and foremost, a swordsman of truly supernatural caliber and masterful at the use of bladed implements in general. Not representative of any one school, avoiding entrapment in rigid structure, Dorian reduces bladesmanship to its purest form, scientific application of a minimalist art of bloodshed. Measuring the opponent and range, finding weaknesses, controlling angles through footwork and timing, misdirection through feints, appropriate responses in parries, blocks and binds, simple, precise strokes with clarity of purpose, his blade flows beautifully as though he led a dance or worked on a canvas with absolute economy of motion.

Coupled with his physical and mental acumen, not to mention a magic sword, the Count’s skills allow him to mislead even those that might see into the future, defend himself from those stronger or faster and cleave through beings of much higher station, making him an adversary not to be taken lightly. Far from being limited to one method of violence, the Nightslayer is well versed in taking the core concepts behind his swordsmanship in the abstract and adjusting them to a variety of other applications, be it the use of other armament, barehanded combat or even strategy. In this way he does mirror the views expressed by both Miyamoto Musashi and those of the spanish Destreza school of fencing.

-Beware the daggers in the dark: The Count is a proficient infiltrator and assassin, as one might expect from someone “blessed” by the Spirit of Murder. Aside from his physical skills he is outstanding at operating stealthily, gifted with an uncanny talent for truly disappearing into the dark making not a single sound and disturbing nothing as he moves, finding cracks in defensive systems and navigating situations where less physically capable agents would fail. He is also, of course, quite capable of ensuring someone meets their end silently and inconspicuously, although it’s not a skillset he’s particularly fond of using.

-Renaissance man: Dorian was already an intelligent, driven and educated individual before his rebirth as the Pale Count. Ever since he has made amazing strides, becoming a resourceful polyglot and polymath simply to test his limitations and expand his horizons, although ultimately he uses his knowledge to further his progress in the way of the warrior.

-Man about town: Dorian von Jelek has lived a rather long life that could in no way be considered virtuous or normal save for his early years. Though he no longer has the slightest interest in being any sort of criminal lord or indeed commanding any sizeable enterprise, much preferring to live focused on himself, he retains a wide network of contacts, informants, providers, debtors, former employers, former employees, teachers, disciples, rivals and even the odd friend or two. By pulling a few strings and making some calls, or spending some of his admittedly relatively modest fortune, he can acquire a wide variety of goods and services.

-Weapons:
The Sword of Night: A powerful magical artifact that was once passed down a line of heroic knights along the title of Nightmaster, at least until Dorian slew the latest one and attuned the blade to himself. A magnificent hand a half (or bastard) sword of 43.5 inches with a 33.5 inch double edged blade that seems to gleam softly like pale moonlight, the grip wrapped in midnight blue leather and the bronzen guard and pommel decorated with rose and thorny vine motifs. Perfectly balanced for use in one hand but allowing for a comfortable two handed grip, it is effective for both slashing and chopping blows and thrusting through gaps in armor.

Magically speaking it is essentially indestructible and capable of cutting through and/or harming most anything, though not effortlessly and depending on some level upon is user, it bears saying. It is even capable of cleaving sorcerous energies, allowing the user to defend themselves from spells and the like should their skills be sufficient. Furthermore, the blade has its own storage of arcane power, which the wielder can call upon to strengthen sword and self in time of need. Finally, the sword can be mentally summoned to the hand of the wielder, making it rather practical for everyday carry.

-Webley Revolver: Sometimes there’s just no replacement for putting a bullet in someone and for that the Nightslayer carries a six shot Webley Mk. V revolver in a hidden holster on the inside of his coat, along with three full reloads. A World War II antique, made for a british agent tasked with running counter operations to the activities of the mystical Thule Society, this old school top break gun was enchanted for toughness, reliability and boosts the impact and penetration of its bullets beyond their original power. The conversion from the extremely rare .455 webley caliber to commonplace .45acp, on the other hand, is the Count’s doing.

-Vorpal Dagger: A 20 inch dagger with a 14 inch blade, crafted to match the Sword of Night visually if not in power. A companion weapon meant to serve as a parrying dagger should Dorian deem it necessary or simply to stab or slice someone at close ranges, it is of course magically reinforced and cuts with far more venom than any regular blade of the sort, but it’s still very much an offhand weapon. Carries it hidden in his coat as well.

-Folding knives: Small, nondescript lockback pocket folding knives with a slim handle, not garbage cheap ones but not exactly anything special. Dorian carries them in the four pockets on his waistcoat, four on each bottom one and three on the top ones for a total of 14, with a simple cantrip helping keep them hidden. Not great for fighting, though obviously stab wounds are no laughing matter even from these, he uses them as disposable throwing blades.

-Cane: A black hardwood cane threaded with silver in a thorny vine pattern, with a spherical handle and a slightly longer and thicker than usual ferrule at the bottom. Not a weapon per-se, it still makes for an effective bludgeon in Dorian’s hands and actually helps him focus when he decides to summon the Sword of Night, typically replacing one for the other.

-The Arsenal: Dorian, as a connoisseur in the art of murder and given his rather hectic life, has collected a fair number of assorted special arms and armors across the years. Not all of them are necessarily magical or even particularly powerful when they are, but they are unique or simply very very well made and he has a whole collection of them spread about his properties. He doesn’t carry them on the regular, his usual loadout is as detailed above, but given time and preparation he can whip out some nasty (or even just curious) implements.

-Gadgets:
-Magic rope: What manner of adventurous man can’t appreciate having some rope or rope-like implements for climbing, swinging, tying and other rope uses? While grappling hook guns are quite popular, Dorian carries some magic rope with him. Silk rope because he’s not an animal, and also because spider silk is comparable to kevlar in mechanical properties and some magic works better on organic materials. Usually collapsed into a deceptively (impossibly) small monkey’s fist knot, the rope can operate individually and obey commands.

-The Infinite Smoker’s Case: A handy little silver case that holds 16 short, narrow cigars and 35 wooden matches, along with an appropriate striking surface for the latter. So named because the supply slowly replenishes as they’re consumed. Very hard to destroy, much like the vice, otherwise unremarkable and harmless unless you’re in the tobacco industry.

-The Flask of Endless Libation: Much the same as above, a self-filling, handy little silver flask filled with quality red rum, though its contents can be changed by the owner with a little work.

Biography---------
Character History/Origin:
Violence and bloodshed have marked Dorian Cornelius Timar-von Jelek since before his birth in 1954. Scion of a cadet branch of the ruling line of Vlatava, a small country infamous for its never ending internecine conflicts, it was through deeds of arms that his bastard-born line was legitimized, and it was civil war that resulted in his family fleeing the land and settling in Germany first then England after, seeking to escape the rising tides of communism and fascism. By the time Dorian came of age Vlatava had been forsaken by God and ceased to be, reduced to a smoldering ruin split amongst surrounding countries and its royal line declared extinct.

Count of a nonexistent land of the dead and in-name-only at that, reared on tales of martial valor, all his life Dorian felt a strong fascination with violence and combat and death. But as a frail sentimental man, educated to avoid such matters and afflicted with albinism to boot, he found but one way to delve into what he saw as his calling in life: through art. By age 25 Dorian von Jelek had gained some renown as a painter and photographer, if a rather bizarre and at times offputting one, having taken to travelling the ever more troubled world and finding the moving and beautiful in the ugliest and most savage it had to offer.

It was a journey to what had once been his doomed homeland that produced his ultimate masterpiece and started him down his current path. Vlatava was pure death wrought by human hands, the worst and lowest of the times, and as he wandered accosted by refugees and fleeing the activities of still operating guerrillas he sought to convey it all: the dark depths of man, the harrowing frailty of life and the finality of death. And in so doing he found her. Upon an altar of flesh and blood and bone, bodies of the rich and poor and young and old alike indiscriminately strewn about, sat the Spirit of Murder, and the artist was smitten as though God’s own lightning had struck.

For the first hour he stood stone still, frozen in equal parts terror and admiration, and she sat and examined him curiously. When the spell finally broke and he regained some control of himself he set off on a desperate dash, and perhaps she understood his purpose or perhaps was simply amused and cared little for the comings and goings of another mortal, but still she sat. Soon enough he returned with canvas and the tools of his trade and for the rest of the day he set to work in a feverish trance, violently discarding what he deemed as failed attempts with mounting frustration. And she rested upon her grisly throne and smiled a predatory smile at this sickly man with clear curiosity in her eye.

The next day came and at last he considered himself satisfied with what he had done. This was his zenith, his apex as an artist, of this he was certain. And at last murder incarnate left her perch and strode to examine this fresh idol, and she saw a pale woman of perfect proportions and entrancing beauty, hair as dark flame partially covering a mysteriously blind eye, her body marked in its near entirety by red flowers in bloom and thorny vines. The Lady of the Rose Tattoo saw herself and she was pleased, and Dorian von Jelek wasted not a single moment in having it delivered to where others might admire his new muse. And then he vanished from the public eye as his new life began.

For a year the strange couple journeyed together across the world. She spoke little but seemed endlessly amused by this frail man who felt such an infatuation for death, and for whatever reason she indulged him and worked to mold him in her image. For a year, a time spent in a blissful haze as though he were living out a first love of summer, he followed the Spirit of Murder to the ends of the Earth as she introduced him to the lows of man and taught him her ways. She made him better, turned the sickly artist into a man that seemed carved out of stone and replaced his brushes with blades. He would never again love another so.

But a year was all it would last, all it could last. For you see, such a spirit was never meant to walk amidst mortals. The Lady of the Rose Tattoo was a part of something far greater and far more terrible, she was an aspect of the cosmic truth of death known as The Rot, and she was not its Avatar tasked with expanding its influence. It had been the massive scale and man-made nature of the ravaging of Vlatava that had accidentally summoned her and allowed her to bind herself to a borrowed body, but her time was limited and she had chosen to spend it on him. This she explained to him in perhaps the longest conversation they had ever had, and she added that she had two final gifts for Dorian.

The first was a test to prove that her efforts had not been wasted, to allow him to prove his worth both to himself and to her. For a full day did he battle a guerrilla cell in the bombed out remains of what had once been a city in Vlatava, where they had returned to end their relationship where it had started. For a full day he once again worked to represent her perfection through art in a feverish delirium, though this art was one of blade and gun and worked on a canvas of flesh and blood. And once again by the end he stood and basked in his work, drained physically and mentally but pleased to his very core, and she judged his work satisfactory. The feeling was exhilarating.

And for her second dark gift, she whispered in his ear what he had always known and always sought: “You are mine forever”. And so did the Spirit of Murder, on her last day on Earth, mark Dorian Von Jelek with her sigil. A dark power coursed through his body and inflicted upon him pain unlike no other, and he could feel what only the truly dying feel as they trascend their mortal coil but die he did not even as she vanished in one final, cruelly mirthful laugh. The horror had rendered him cold and pale as snow and she had taken the light from his once bright red eyes. This was, in her way, a confession that she saw beauty in them and thus in him, he was sure of it. He was hers. Forever.

Thus began the life of the Pale Count of Nothing. A life lived in the dark corners of the world, a life of spilled blood and delightful excess, of serving some and leading others and rivalries aplenty throughout the decades as dark powers staved off the coming of decay in his body. But, ultimately, the passage of time still affected the Knight of the Bloody Rose. With time the excesses grew dull and the prospect of dedicating himself to others bothersome, and the rivalries faded or grew into mutual respect or were settled to the bitter end. Dorian found himself increasingly tired of his station and pined for the days of his youth, spent in intoxicating trance with his muse who he knew he would never see again.

So afflicted, for many years the Pale Count faded into obscurity, content to rest and amuse himself as best he could in what was his first period of tranquility since his youth and ensuring only that his skills dulled not one bit. But, eventually, peace lost its luster and restlessness settled in once more. He wondered what it was he might do, but not for long, for his timing had been nothing short of impeccable. Here he was, seeking the next great adventure in his life, and the world had seen fit to provide with a cadre of new heroes and strange happenings abound. Ah, what fun he would have.

[Legion X51]

Kat von Rysech, The Red Countess

Character you have created:
Grafin Katarina von Rysech, Red Countess of Prussia

Alias:
Various names that have been bandied about in the ages, though most simply call her The Red Countess.

Character Alignment:
A true Villain of the ages, Katarina is bent on unlocking the deepest secrets of the arcane and of the ultimate goal of unlife - to be free of the need for blood and to no longer fear the sun... And she will do *anything* to get it.

Identity:
Only known to a handful of those versed in the dark arts of necromancy and vampirism.

Character Personality:
Selfish, undependable and duplicitous, von Rysech is not a woman to be trusted or relied upon for important duties, though she is capable of loyalty to some causes, so long as they suit her own purposes ultimately. She plays the long game, willing to allow the mortals about her play along with their own little flickers of energy, their brief moments of glory before the cold embrace of death takes over. She is willing to grant others the mercy of the Blood Kiss, though any that are turned by her are subservient to her every whim and desire, no matter how dangerous or damaging it may be. When in battle, she is utterly merciless and ruthless to a fault, willing to sacrifice even the largest and most powerful of their servants in her search for power and her birthright - her lands in what is now Kaliningrad, the old Holy Roman county of Preussen-Konigsberg. Ultimately, she wishes to create her own vampiric paradise, where the hateful rays of the sun are obscured by the mists of undeath, and those in her thrall toil for her benefit, and finally, von Rysech will rebuild the Tower of Spires, and within, she will retire to her libraries once more. She lusts for knowledge and arcane arts, and will not hesitate to jump at any opportunity to expand her collection of spells and arcane magicks.

Uniform/costume:
Katarina often sports Renaissance-style clothing (in spite of the changing times) as she is more comfortable with the clothing that she knew in her mortal life.

Origin Info/Details:

Chapter 1: Manifestation of Evil

Countess Katarina von Rysech was born on the Spring Solstice in 1492 in the town of Neuhausen, a Teutonic fortified settlement founded by the knightly order on their invasion of Prussia in the later 13th century, into an unsettled era of violence and war within Prussia. The Polish-Lithuanian King Jan Olbracht Jagiellon had recently consolidated the gains Poland had made during the Thirteen Years War, in which Katarina's parents had supported the Teutonic Order against the Prussian Confederation and subsequently had suffered devastation of their lands by Polish and Prussian soldiers. Katarina's own birth was surrounded in rumours of secrecy and sorcery - Graf Johann von Rysech was thought to be an impotent imbecile, and his wife Anya was of low-born stock: there were those who suspected that Katarina was either a bastard child or birthed through dark magics brought upon the couple by their Lithuanian doctor, Vytautas Revinskas: a pagan worshipper of the Romuva faith and thought to be part doctor and part sorcerer, Revinskas somehow was able to get the couple to conceive a child, which the parents predicted would be a boy. Though the pregnancy was trouble-free, the sex of the baby was wrong - nine months to the day of conception, a healthy baby girl was born - Katarina.

Her childhood was a troubled one, to match a troubled child. Revinskas often meddled with her education in the Christian arts, planting seeds of doubt that God truly was who the Bible dictated, or that Jesus Christ was the Son of God and not, say, an impostor? Revinskas encouraged the young girl to question those beliefs that were considered truths, and to be skeptical of all that the Church decried as heretical or heathen - were they simply afraid of the real truth? These seeds of doubt would, in time, blossom and bear fruit, Revinskas thought, for he was playing the long game. The castle itself and the lands surrounding it began to warp and twist over the coming months and years, though so slowly that it was barely noticeable even to the trained eyes of the clergy - though the appearance of the Comet of the Feast of St. Peter and Paul in 1499 and 1507, on the very same day of the year no less, the 29th of June, began to arouse suspicion and fear from the superstitious peasantry. At the same time, rumours of Luciferian cults and dark magics began to emerge in late 1507, with several women burned in the local area for witchcraft: the weather was unusually wet, cold and above all dark. Some days, it was said, the sun barely reached over the horizon, and in the winter of 1507-1508, some days the sun was not present whatsoever. Even those well-versed in astronomy and science could not explain this freakish phenomenon, and so, in March 1508, it was decided that the pagan priest had to die, for it was he who was causing these inexplicable occurrences, and it was he who was bringing the wrath of God upon the lands, and the Graf was abetting this wrath by allowing the priest to remain in his court! The burghers, clergy and peasants gathered together in a great throng and rose up in revolt, in defence of faith and land. They besieged Castle Neuhausen, seat of their absentee Graf, in the hope of seizing both the priest Revinskas and the "Demon Child" that he had helped bring into this world - Katarina. The Graf and his soldiers manned the walls and defended admirably against the motley cannon that the peasant revolt was able to muster, and for three months, the siege of Neuhausen was underway, as the Graf stubbornly refused to surrender the castle, for he thought the peasants would simply sack it and destroy the riches of the aristocracy. However, unbeknown to all involved, the three month delay was a carefully crafted plan by Revinskas and the Luciferians within that area of Prussia. The siege would have been unsuccessful regardless: Revinskas and Katarina had fled the area before the siege had even begun, hurrying away deep into the Lithuanian hinterland in Zemaitija and Klaipeda on Katarina's 16th birthday. There, Katarina had undergone a radical change, perhaps signifying the corruption within that had been brought to the fore by Revinskas and his cultists; her hair was white as snow, her eyes two glowing orbs of smouldering red, and she was now well-versed in forbidden necromantic lore, taught to her by the Luciferians and by Revinskas. She had even had the Black Mass performed, her naked form lying on a black stone table, with a sigil of her own blood painted on her breast, a dagger in her right hand and a silvered chalice on her stomach, a ring of chanting cultists praising the Fallen Angel. She watched now as Revinskas put his plan into action.

The date was the 30th of May, 1508, and as the sun slowly rose over the fields surrounding Castle Neuhausen, all natural light was suddenly snuffed out, replaced by a fell green-glowing skull in the sky providing the only light for the panicked revolting army. The moat surrounding the castle turned into a broiling lake of blood before their very eyes, whilst the castle's drawbridge opened seemingly by itself. The revolters turned to fight their enemy, but what they saw was not at all what they expected - the legions of the living dead. Zombified corpses clutched crude clubs and shambled forth, whilst beside them, the creaking of animated bones as skeletal figures took up rusted arms and donned tattered scraps of mail and cloth. At their head was a grotesquely-obese creature, sitting upon a defiled throne stinking of sewage and disease: the Graf had been turned into a near-amorphous blob of pustule-ridden flesh which belched forth its commands, whilst beneath the throne, a nude, spidery-limbed woman shrieked at their foe, seemingly piercing the very air around the revolting army and sending some mad there and then - Katarina's dear sweet mama, Anya von Rysech. The Luciferians had succeeded in their rituals, and the dead walked once more. Though their spirit was valiant, the revolting army had no chance. The living dead fell upon the revolting army as a pack of wolves would fall on an undefended flock of sheep, tearing and gnashing at those who dared stand in their way. Thousands of Prussians were ripped apart in gouts of bloodied gore as the living dead gorged themselves in an orgy of destruction and bloodshed, in the name of the Fallen Angel. The skull in the sky began to cackle; a horrific, grating cacophony of laughter mixed with human screams - the screams of the dying of Neuhausen. As the last few realised their dreadful mistake, they turned to flee, but the very earth itself seemed to turn against them - grass became deep mud beneath their feet, clinging to them like concrete, leaving them all but helpless against the overwhelming tide of the undead. Soon, the revolt had been slaughtered to a man. His raven servants providing sight for his obsidian scrying ball, Revinskas cackled with glee as his plan to corrupt the Count and Countess had at last come to pass. Katarina, for her part, impassively watched as generations of her subjects were slaughtered before her eyes, many by their own ancestors that they had not long buried. She stared at the carnage and slaughter, and barely even moved.

Revinskas began to spill the beans, so to speak... it was he who had rendered the Count all but impotent and feckless, and it was he who had been machinating behind the scenes to ensure the match between the Count and Countess, and the birth of Katarina. Then, he would fulminate rebellion and discontent amongst the peasantry, and then watch as the peasants turn upon the corrupted rulership, before unleashing his trap at Castle Neuhausen. Then, with the Count and Countess out of the way, he would marry Katarina and rule Neuhausen in their stead, promulgating a great demonic bloodline from whenceforth a new generation of the undead would rule, as in Romania... The last step in Revinskas' plan was the turning of Katarina herself. The Bloody Kiss was Revinskas' reward for her service and her studiousness, and he eagerly gave it, seeing that at last his prize was in his grasp... For three long, agonising days, Katarina slowly wasted away, her body unable to fight the vampirism wracking it from the inside, her immune system turning on itself and destroying that which it needed to continue functioning normally. Finally, on the third day, after hours of feverish sweats, blinding pain and uncontrollable spasms, Katarina von Rysech died, with a final, heart-wrenching scream. For a few nerve-wracking moments, it all hung in the balance. Was she strong enough to turn fully? Revinskas stepped forward with a black rapier in his hand, and Katarina opened her eyes, and smiled a rueful, fanged smile. The Red Countess was born from the death of the 16-year old girl. She sat up, and looked at her mentor, who nodded once and held out the sword. "My darling, this is for you." Taking it in both hands, she turned it over, chuckling to herself as Revinskas turned away to begin making plans.

"Revinskas, you old fool. My destiny is my own... I will not have some halfwit Lithuanian dictating to me what I will and will not do!" In less than a heartbeat, Katarina had taken the sword and plunged it into Vytautas Revinskas' back, piercing his old, blackened, corrupted heart. Wrenching his head back so she could whisper in his ear, Katarina laughed, a low, sultry, seductive laugh accompanied by a shake of the head. "My destiny is mine, do you hear me? Mine. Forever." And with that, she withdrew the sword. Vytautas Revinskas sank to his knees, his form slowly crumbling, flesh sloughing from bone as he was unable to maintain himself... and finally, he simply crumbled to dust.

"I am Katarina, Countess of Neuhausen. Though you sought to use me for your own ends, I will seek to continue your work. Perhaps you will find this sweet succour as your soul burns in Hell."

Chapter 2: The Red Countess Ascendant

With Revinskas dead, the county of Neuhausen thoroughly under the control of Lucifer's cults and Katarina still in the Lithuanian hinterlands, the stage was set for another bloody and difficult conflict. The Luciferians refused to hand over power to Katarina after they discovered Revinskas' murder at her hands, and declared that she was apostate in the Luciferian Brotherhood; effectively casting her out and attempting to disavow her of any of her vampiric power under the rituals that Revinskas had performed. At the head of the Luciferian cults was a man named Stefan Grenzer, a man from Konigsberg who had been elected Arch-Priest of the Luciferian Brotherhood within Neuhausen and who now had the loyalty of supposedly all who followed him. However, Revinskas' spells were not infallible - Katarina knew how to counter them and how to gain control of the army of the dead that he had created at Castle Neuhausen, including the spells which he had placed upon her parents to corrupt them into their current forms. After slaying the Luciferians that had accompanied Revinskas to Lithuania, Katarina set out on the journey to return to East Prussia to reclaim her rightful lands, and destroy these arrogant believers. In truth, it was not Lucifer that Katarina followed; far from it, for Katarina had begun to question all religion and saw much of it as the root of the blasted world's problems (little did she know that 100 years later, the most terrible of European wars would prove her right) and so she dedicated her time to magic, rather than relying on boons from gods she neither knew nor cared for. Katarina reached the outskirts of Prussia in late November 1508, and could already feel the rotting canker at the heart of the Baltic Sea - Lucifer's roots had grown deep in the region, and his corruption was endemic. She would, somewhat reluctantly, have to purge it, lest the Holy Roman Emperor send his Imperial armies to cleanse the lands of heresy and witchcraft, as they had done so in Bohemia in the days of Jan Hus. Then all would be for naught, and the Red Countess would rule over nothing but her own coffin. Therefore, in great secrecy, Katarina returned to Neuhausen and hid, conducting several rituals that Revinskas had taught her in the deep dungeons of the castle, and subsequently taking over control of the army of the dead that her mentor had built for her, and disguise them as living troops. In addition to this, she sent missives to the Margraves of Pomerania and Brandenburg, begging them to help her against this new heresy that threatened the stability of Prussia and threatened to spill over into their own lands. Boguslaw X Gryf agreed to send an army to assist her, and in early 1510, Katarina revealed herself to the Luciferians, storming the nearby town of Neuhausen with her father and his army and slaughtering the local garrison and clergy. Reeling from the shock of her sudden re-appearance, Arch-Priest Grenzer rallied his allies and marched on Castle Neuhausen itself, seeking to cut off this new threat at the head, not counting on the intervention of Duke Boguslaw or the Pomeranian army, which invaded Prussia in April, meeting up with Katarina's forces in May. Later on that month, both the Prussians and Pomeranians marched on the Brotherhood's main base of operations: the castle of Osterode. The Luciferians and Prussian Alliance clashed outside Osterode on the 19th of May, 1510, with both Katarina and Stefan Grenzer present on the field. Grenzer's army of zealots and heretics tried to call upon the dark magics of Lucifer to aid them in the battle, but it was here where Katarina revealed one of her most potent weapons against divine warriors; with a gesture, she cut off the magical powers that Grenzer was summoning to support his allies, and rendered them vulnerable to attack. The Battle of Osterode was a crushing defeat for the Brotherhood - scattered to the winds, and with Grenzer dead, Katarina was able to solidify her hold over her new state with the aid of Boguslaw Gryf. The Pomeranians returned home with a nominal oath of fealty to Boguslaw from Katarina in their hands as recompense for his assistance, but it seems the message was never officially delivered to the Duke - a sore spot for many years to come, and something that would ultimately prove to be her downfall much later.

Though externally, Neuhausen seemed to be safe from any threats, internally, Katarina knew there was much to do. The Red Countess had not yet earned her name, and the Prussian nobility had not yet been made to know the glory of the Blood Kiss... throwing off the disguise of the living, Katarina revealed herself as her true form in 1512, when she re-invoked the old pacts that Revinskas had initially bound to Castle Neuhausen, transforming it from a once-noble fortification to a barracked charnel pit of death and fear - she invited all of the minor nobles and clergymen of her region to a great feast, and once they were inside, she ordered the doors sealed and allowed herself to feast and sate her lust on each one, implanting each with the Blood Kiss in turn. The Feast of the Nobles, as it became known, was Katarina's first true act as Vampire Countess of Neuhausen - she had bent the nobility and the clergymen to obey her every whim, and she sent them forth into the countryside to begin her grand plan of corruption, repression and fear. Slowly, the nobility began to corrupt the very essence of the earth itself, whilst Katarina relaxed in her throne room, supping from an ever-present glass of 'aged red' as she began to read through the ancient tomes that her agents had procured from the Luciferian Brotherhood and from heretical collections that had been condemned by the former clergy. When rumours of witchcraft began to leak out from Neuhausen into the surrounding regions, Katarina ordered her agents to hunt down and eliminate the spreaders, hoping to contain knowledge of the truth of the nobility to only those who were required to know - none could truly learn of the Red Countess and her extravagant manners. At the same time, Katarina began work on what would be her magnum opus of achievements - the construction of the Tower of Spires, a monolithic masterpiece of stone and Gothic architecture, as well as containing one of the largest collections of forbidden lore in Europe. The Tower's construction lasted from 1519 to 1560 (such was the complexity of its design and the difficulty of its building) and it replaced Castle Neuhausen as the centrepiece of Katarina's court. However, Katarina devoted less and less time to her courtiers, and more and more to her expanding library of forbidden knowledge and the arcane arts, in her quest to explore undeath and potentially free herself from the confines of blood and darkness, to spread her wings far and wide into new lands and new pastures.

Chapter 3: The Fall of the Red Reign

TBD

Power Level:
Low to Medium Ultra. Katarina once ruled the mightiest vampiric empire the Baltic had ever seen, and though it was lost to the Christian foes of the Holy Roman Empire, she aspires to see herself rise to such levels once more.

Powers:

- Knows English, German, Polish, French and (some) Russian
- Can shift shapes from humanoid to beast (bat swarm) to monstrous (known as the Gheist) forms.
- Superhuman strength.
- Blinding speed and reflexes.
- All of Katarina's abilities can be strengthened when she has fed from one of her unfortunate victims.
- For spells and relics, see below.

Katarina's Spell List - Updated 25/01/18

You Will Serve Me in Death - Any vampire worth their salt can raise the dead. By drawing upon the powers of the necrotic winds about crematoria, graveyards and mortuaries, Katarina can impart unlife upon those thought lost to the world. From graveyards rise zombies and skeletons, from mortuaries zombies of superior quality, and from crematoria, spectral forms gather and take physical form, creating awful creatures such as wights, banshees or ghasts.

Chains of Mortality - Only useable on living targets, Katarina conjures a set of chains that anchor to the living being's soul and render them all but incapable of movement. These chains can be broken by divine or other holy magics, but are all but impervious to mundane attack.

Vigour Mortis - By drawing on local necromantic power, Katarina is able to grant increased strength and stamina, as well as agility to those she casts this spell upon. The targets, however, must either be undead or contain necromantic power of their own - normal humans or living beings cannot benefit from Vigour Mortis.

Die Glocke - The Bell is a haunting, chilling peal that inspires fear in Katarina's foes. At the sound of the Bell, the dead stir and rise, and the living find their life force sucked away from them, leeched in order to feed the restless dead. Those who fail to flee find themselves slowly zombifying, eventually to the point where they, too, fall under Katarina's command.

The Reaping - At Katarina's command, a huge two-bladed axe swings forth from nothing and slices clean through her foes. Mundane protection provides no defence - only the supernatural can defend against the axe's blades. It can be dodged by those with sufficient agility or speed, or precognition, but the aura of necrosis that accompanies the axe will nevertheless cause the constitutions of those nearby to suffer.

Hypnotic Gaze - The most common of Katarina's spells, Hypnotic Gaze is more of an ability than a spell. At Katarina's command, she can enthrall those who look into her eyes and compel them to do her bidding for a short amount of time. Hypnotic Gaze becomes easier to resist the more one is affected by it, until eventually only the next spell will be of any use when attempting to force someone to do Katarina's will.

Mind War - Similar to Hypnotic Gaze, only much more powerful. Katarina's very spirit reaches out and takes hold of the sanity of the afflicted, crushing it utterly with visions of death and decay, and leaving the unfortunate victim open to any and every command that Katarina issues. Sadly, those who are affected by Mind War are left as gibbering, half-sane wrecks, their ability to comprehend reality permanently broken by Katarina's spellcraft, and only able to take commands from her.

Skullstorm - A roiling thunderstorm of pure necrotic energy, Skullstorm takes the form of sickly green clouds that coalesce into a tornado-like structure of screeching skull-like shapes that suck in and devour all life that happens to be nearby. Katarina and her allies are curiously immune to the effects of this spell, but those who are unlucky enough to be sucked into the howling morass find themselves torn limb from limb, as thousands of spectral green skulls sate their hunger on the flesh of those within. Death is almost certain.

Shadow Threads - Katarina can conjure clothes, items or other objects from pure darkness. These items behave exactly as if they were made from mundane materials, except for two things - first, they block all sight through them, even that of a magical nature. Second, the fabric is very resilient to mundane attacks, as even the strongest sword finds itself unable to cut through. This can be used as armour or as a shield by Katarina, and she often conjures shadow threads to protect herself from the sun.

Doom of Neuhausen - The Doom is Katarina's most powerful spell. It transforms whichever celestial body is in the sky into a huge, howling green skull. This skull vomits forth huge clouds of corruptive energy, blanketing the land in pure undeath, killing or withering anything and everything in its path. The very air is noxious to breathe, and those present hear nothing but the screams of the long-dead Prussians who died at Neuhausen Castle all those centuries before, and the cackling of Vytautas Revinskas as his blood-soaked minions drive the living before them like chattel. The Doom can even be harnessed to bring the skull to Earth in a final grotesque explosion of blood, charnel and undead flesh. Not even the holiest of magics can cleanse the corruption of the Doom, and Katarina is loath to use it.

The Liber Necronomica

An ancient tome from 1574-1589, when Katarina first began to write down her magical experiences and codify her spells and contagions into one text, the Liber Necronomica (literally 'Book of the Living Dead') is one of the primary tomes for any aspiring necromancer or elder vampire who has been unleashed on the world. Within its pages are countless rituals ranging from matters such as raising the dead, to turning those who have been bitten by a vampire into their willing servants, to creating plagues to visit upon the unfortunate human denizens of the Earth, to even creating necromantic constructs such as flesh golems, rot golems and so called 'Great Flies' - huge, pustule-ridden flying insects that spread death and disease wherever their cursed wings take them. The Liber Necronomica only currently exists in fragments, and it is Katarina's aim to ultimately restore the ancient book to its former glory, binding its knowledge once more in a single tome of pure undeath.

Fragments Known to Katarina:

Metamorphosis Vitreii - M. Vitreii is an infection that is intended to be used partially as a vector to generate dead to be used in necromantic magic, and partially as a way of making certain areas inhospitable so as to allow a Vampiric population to flourish - as M. Vitreii is necromantic in nature, it does not affect those without constitutions, such as the undead, constructs or those magically immune to necromancy by way of birth, race or enchantment. M. Vitreii is a very versatile disease, and can be tailored to target specific victims, or wreak wholesale general havoc upon a population. However, M. Vitreii is ultimately a disease that dies out over time, despite turning its victims into walking crystalline entities that spew forth clouds of spores that carry M. Vitreii over distances, and therefore is unsuitable for extended operations of biological warfare.

Relics and Raiments of the Red Countess

Thirst: A rapier forged from the coldest blackest iron-rich steel that one ever did see, Thirst was the sword that Vytautas Revinskas had commissioned for Katarina when she had finally succumbed to the Blood Kiss, and transformed into a vampire. Thirst is a truly evil weapon, for it gorges on the vitae of its victims to strengthen Katarina, whilst simultaneously acting as a conduit to gather necromantic energies from the surrounding areas to channel them into Kat's own reserves of magical energy. Thirst has claimed too many lives to count, spilled too much blood to be truly sated - the weapon is said to have a soul of its own, formed from the nameless, faceless hundreds slaughtered to quench the Red Countess' lust for power. It was the only relic to survive the Fall with Katarina, and she wields the horrific blade to this day.

The Ruby Chalice: A golden chalice studded with glowing rubies may not look hugely out of place in any castle, were it not for the contents. An ever-fresh supply of blood pools within the Ruby Chalice seemingly from nowhere, but the truth of the matter is perhaps darker than one may realise, for within the rubies of the Chalice are trapped the life-forces of Vytautas Revinskas, the Graf and Grafin von Rysech, and Katarina's first and only (so far) consort, Andreas von Rysech, a vampire she sired during the early years of her reign. By far the most heinous usage is that of Katarina's own parents - binding their vitae to eternal torment and damnation, caged within a ruby prison to feed their daughter's endless thirst for blood. The Ruby Chalice renders Katarina able to operate without feeding on humans - indeed, perhaps it strengthens her, for the rich supply of blood is of far superior quality than any mortal could hope to have achieved.

The Ring of Iron: A blackened, cold iron ring, with a single jet gemstone carved into the shape of a skull. The Ring of Iron is an unremarkable object, but one that pulses with great power - for the Ring of Iron forms part of Katarina's fallback defence should her magical ability be compromised. It forms a protective force field of unholy magics that turn aside all but the holiest and most blessed magics - only Sir Henri of the Order of the Grail has been able to penetrate the Ring of Iron's black sorcery. The source of the Ring's power lay in the Reservoir of the Tower, a structure built into the Tower of Spires during its construction, and which required the exsanguination of some 300 fully-grown humans to fill to its entirety. There, the Reservoir acted as a energy dam, coalescing raw necromantic energy from the surrounding areas and allowing it to be used piecemeal in the forging and construction of magical items and spells. The Reservoir was destroyed in the collapse of the Tower of Spires following Katarina's defeat in 1610, and the Ring, like all relics save for Thirst, was lost.

The Masque: The Masque was one of Katarina's most interesting and strangest accoutrements. The Masque itself appears to be a black iron theatre mask, similar in style to old thespian-style masks used in theatres across the world. The Masque's true purpose is actually as a perfect disguise - it transforms Katarina's physical appearance into an exact replica of any person that she wishes. The Masque in Katarina's reign allowed her to blend in with non-vampiric nobility and clergy in particular, for it also masks Katarina's vampiric energies. The Masque cannot be worn forever, though, for flaws eventually begin to appear in the Masque's illusions - no dream lasts forever. Eventually, the illusion fails, but this may take as long as two to three weeks, if not longer.

The Heart of Darkness: The Heart of Darkness is without doubt the most powerful of Katarina's relics and raiments crafted during her Red Reign. It is a jet-black scarab of unknown material, surrounded in gold, worn around the neck on a golden necklace. The Heart of Darkness is impervious to all known methods of damage, and confers a black sorcerous magic field that encases the wearer in a thin layer of shadow thread, which deflects almost all known forms of attack, save for perhaps the water of the Grail itself. In addition, the Heart of Darkness also acts as a soul trap for those slain by the wearer, vastly reducing the quantity of magical energy required to cast necromantic spells. The Heart of Darkness was manufactured in the last days of Katarina's reign, as a last-ditch weapon designed to turn the tide of the Great Crusade against Neuhausen, but alas, it failed. The Heart was lost, and was never seen again. But such was the complexity and resilience of its construction, that it is almost a certainty that it survives to this day.

Attributes (Select one at each category):
As Katarina:

Height: Five feet and eleven inches.
Weight: 148 pounds, or 67.1 kg.
Strength Level: About 10 to 20 tons at maximum humanoid strength
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 100+ MPH at maximum reflexes
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: About 4 hours per feeding
Agility: 15X Normal
Intelligence: Not quite Genius, though she plays the long game...
Fighting Skill: Mastered. The Red Countess is a vicious and powerful fighter, particularly with her rapier.

As the Gheist:

Height: Well over ten feet tall from feet to head, including wings possibly as many as 15 ft
Weight: Unknown, possibly as much as two and half tons
Strength Level: Between 70-80 tons comfortably
Speed/Reaction Timing Level: 80-90 MPH
Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: About 4 hours per feeding
Agility: Slightly slower than humanoid, perhaps about 12-13X that of a human
Intelligence: The Red Countess maintains her intelligence level, even as a Gheist.
Fighting Skill: Mastered. Bestial, bloody and brutal, Katarina as a Gheist can rip through whole squads of men all by herself.

Resources:
Limited at best currently. Katarina is slowly returning to power, and lacks much of her repertoire and her infrastructure, including her library of ancient tomes. Katarina currently has herself, her power and that's about it.

Weaknesses:
Though a Vampire, Katarina is still susceptible to physical damage and if her mortal form is destroyed, she will flee back to Neuhausen as the proverbial mist to regenerate. Depending on her level of power, this can take any time between minutes and weeks, during which time she is still vulnerable to her coffin being attacked and destroyed, which will kill her. None but the most powerful gods can save her undead soul after that. Katarina is still vulnerable to the sun and will suffer very serious consequences in direct sunlight, though she can somewhat tolerate overcast conditions due to her power. Christians beware, however, for she is no stranger to the symbols of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Some say it is because of her Prussian heritage, others that even God has a plan in mind for her, others still that her latent atheism protects her, but whatever the reason, crosses and religious artefacts will not stop Katarina.

Supporting Characters:

- Lord Franz Siegfried Philipp Ludwig von Sigmaringen: Katarina's ally and vampire of Swabia. Franz Siegfried has been Katarina's constant companion since early in her reign, and accompanied her as she fled into the catacombs of the Tower of Spires. Weaker and bent to Katarina's will, Franz Siegfried is nevertheless a potent physical adversary in battle, though he lacks much of Katarina's power. Currently is unaware of Katarina's re-awakening.

- Chevalier Henri de la Tour d'Auvergne: The Great Enemy of Katarina and the Red Reign. Henri de la Tour d'Auvergne is a Knight of the Grail, a holy man dedicated to the defence of humanity against those who would seek to corrupt or destroy that which is God's most treasured creation. It was Henri who put paid to the Red Reign and Neuhausen itself in 1610, during the Prussian Crusade, leading a grand coalition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the Duchy of Pomerania and the Habsburg state against Katarina with the intention of wiping out her vampiric empire once and for all. Though Katarina and Franz escaped death, Henri has vowed to not rest until they are brought down once and for all.

Theme Song: Katarina, The Red Countess

Notes on the 'Blood Kiss'

The Blood Kiss is the von Rysech terminology for their bite. Anathema to mortality, the Blood Kiss can be utilised in several ways.

The primary, and most commonly thought of, method is the Transformation - the vampire injects the victim with a tiny quantity of their own blood through their fangs, which causes a devastating blood disease which invariably kills the victim, allowing their full transformation into a true vampire - how Katarina was turned.

For those the vampire wishes to keep around as slaves, the Blood Kiss is a simple bite. With the bite, the vampire casts a spell upon the victim, which enslaves and breaks the victim's will and allows the vampire to use the victim as a mobile blood bank, or vampire cattle, if one uses the definition from The Elder Scrolls. However, the Blood Kiss nevertheless slowly corrupts the victim over time, and eventually transforms the victim into something known as an 'Empty' - a hollow corpse that is almost akin to a zombie, only much faster and more bestial.

A third way is the manner that Franz was turned, in that the vampire's bite causes limited vampirism from the vampire's saliva. This creates a creature known to the von Rysechs as a 'Servant of Darkness' - neither human nor vampire. Blessed with the lesser powers common to all vampires, and yet still eligible for feeding, the Servants of Darkness are the von Rysechs' primary agents in the field. They require human blood for true sustenance, though they are capable of limited sustenance from mortal foodstuffs or animal blood.

[Carbonatter]

Villain/Anti-Villain - Arnold René - The Rally

Basic Information
=========

Persona: The Rally
Civilian Name: Dr. Arnold René
Origin city/Planet: New York City, New York
Hometown: Gotham City
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Height: 5'9
Weight: 140 lbs
Age: 52 Birth Date: March 23, 1968
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Costumed Appearance:

A brown overcoat buttoned tightly over his everyday apparel. Along his waist he wears a leather belt with an in-built gun holster and slits that canisters (as well as other gadgets) can be stored in and easily retrieved from. He will likely wear his black, filtered ski mask as well as brown gloves and a flat cap to mask his identity and for protection against the several chemicals he uses. Due to his long sightedness he can also don goggles with prescription lenses that are held on via a strap wrapped around Arnold's head.

Gloves, Cap and Mask

Civilian Appearance:

Icon: Fist of Unity _{All rights go to the respective owner}
Costumed Personality: Mostly silent as much as he is distant - Arnold takes no pleasure in what he does and it shows on his persona, a man who finds disgust in what he does yet has no choice but to partake. Whenever it's possible Rally reduces casualties or at best prevents them entirely.
Civilian Personality: Rather a pleasant gentleman, Arnold takes care of those who come to him as well as those who he can see. An outright condoner of violence who shows his distaste whenever a violent act takes place. When is conversation he speaks his thoughts in consideration with what others may wish to hear - a sign that he is always in consideration of others. Arnold believes that those able to aid society in a more effective manner than what they are doing currently are wasting their potential.

Super abilities:
-Skills:

• Meticulous Thinker - Arnold can spend weeks of his time merely planning every eventuality, due to this it can be difficult to surprise him during of his escapades - this especially becomes the case the longer that he is able to plan. This does not mean that the situation may act out unexpectedly.
• High Intellect - As a biochemist, one must be competent in their work, Arnold is indeed this.
• Biochemistry and Vast Medical Knowledge - Of course, this should go without saying really.
• Amateur skill in electronics and technology - This was gained from years of free time and boredom - to stimulate Arnold's mind.
• Drug Tolerance - Due to testing his own formulas and chemicals, Arnold has built up a strong resistance to the drugs in his collection.
• Basic Brawling - Though past his prime Arnold still remembers a thing or two and still has a mean left hook.
• Inhuman Persuasion - Perhaps a freak mutation within the mind, else a skill he acquired through relentless use growing up. What is known is that Arnold finds ease in debates, manipulation and simple discussions; He is able to dissuade a waiter from serving a customer, encourage a hockey player to be headhunted, even enforce his ideals onto those susceptible - even the so called 'heroes'. The best part though? None of this is supernatural, it is merely his own natural abilities meaning there is no psychic power for the mentally resistant to resist, no spell to dispel... Of course there are limits to this ability, those who do not stop to hear reason as well as those who outright refute his words are not affected - else it takes time to ease their tense mind, to let them see his way, to get them onto his side.

-Powers: None

-Weaknesses:

• Long Sighted - Arnold has difficulty viewing objects close up - to the point that he usually is unable to recognise letters or details. To counter this he wears prescription glasses..
• Meticulous Thinker - His strength may also become his undoing, overconfidence in his plans may occur when the odds seem in his favour while at the same time Arnold may be stagnant, being unable to plan out and so therefore uncertain of the actions to take in the most extreme circumstances..

-Gadgets:

• Filtered Ski mask - Arnold has refit his ski mask to filter the air that he breathes, removing as much gas as it possibly can so that Arnold does not suffer the effects of his own trickery regardless of his tolerance.
• Several transparent canisters will adorn Arnold's waist via his handy belt, each contains chemicals with different uses, these canisters can be loaded into his Dispersion Gun else thrown. There are three different chemicals as of the current time;
  
  • Modified Rohypnol - An illegal and incredibly powerful sleeping drug enhanced by the good Doctor himself, this beauty needs only requires a decent amount of skin contact to affect an individual.
  • Altered Epinephrine - Also known as adrenaline, overdosing requires immediate medical aid - effects include blurred vision, weariness, hypertension, sudden numbness, chest pains, confusion, problems speaking and standing. Once again the good Doctor has modified it to work much like the Rohypnol - from a distance.
  • Concentrated Lysergic acid diethylamide - Well this will be a kicker, also known as LSD and a concentrated amount at that...
• Disguised Gas Bombs - Though the majority are merely concentrated Rohypnol gas dispensers they are disguised as several different everyday goods (which work as intended may Arnold state) - a silver pocket watch, a metal lighter and two cufflinks. The left cufflink releases smoke rather than a gas.

-Weapons:

• Long-range Chemical Disperser (Drug Gun) - A pistol shaped piece of tech able to spray chemicals within each of the three chemical canisters on in its side up to 25 feet in either a liquid or gaseous state. chemicals may also be injected directly into a victim via a needle at the tip of the gun. The canisters can be easily swapped out once emptied of their contents via a switch at the side.
• Switchblade - Though severely lacking in any form of combat training or prowess it doesn't hurt to come prepared just incase. Arnold hides this within his overcoat rather than on his belt.

Civilian Occupation: Clinical Biochemist based in Gotham General Hospital,

Biography
---------

Character History/Origin:
It was a cruel irony that Arnold René, a Doctor in his later years, would be born so soon after the King nukes that killed so many in Vietnam, a years difference in fact. Arnold was born in a time without power, without support and without true allies after what their once-president had incurred upon the world and due to this had a troubled childhood - not from violence but due to the national depression that encompassed most solemnly within the states. People found little happiness nor pleasure, children much like Arnold found interest and a requirement in stealing while adults were busy forgetting the day at the bottom of a bottle. Arnold was born through a time that wished that times were different.

It changed little throughout the years, Arnold and his groupies were still stealing to make a living even as the young man turned to medicine and education due to the ease he found within the subject. If he wasn’t stealing he was honing his skills and talents in building contraptions for amusement.

That all came to an end on one night out - at this time Arnold was nearing the end of his school education, soon to be moving onto his residency. A heist at a small bank was being undertook by the doctor and his compatriots when a gun went off, without thinking rationally Arnold ordered the group to rush out with what they had and disperse. It was only later that he realised that the bullet shot from whoever’s gun it was had hit a target - a young man of early twenties who had come to claim a small cheque. This was Arnold’s first death from a job and he was going to make sure it was going to be his last - without knowing who shot the bullet and if it was intentional, knowing that nobody would own up to it either, Arnold decided to separate from his group and stick to medicine for the rest of his years. This worked a charm for many years… that was until Chaz returned, this being one of Arnold’s old ‘co-workers’. By this time Arnold was happily rested in his life, he was able to help those who came to him after years of education into the matters that they brought - it was all he could really do to both repent and to help. Chaz brought back Arnold’s old world, shoving it down his throat without pausing to allow breath… The thug was creating a group for heists, he wanted Arnold back in the game - if he refused… well he definitely had enough photographs to pin the doctor to many heists even if there wasn’t one connecting him to that particular murder… Ever since the doctor has been forced to aid the maniac in his plans, acting as the strategist and commander during operations.

By day Arnold aided the public, at night he was forced to work with criminals who were much more prone to violence than his original crew and more than happy to touch their triggers. It became a mental olympic that Arnold had to win else risk other’s death or his own arrest. Through thick and thin, through bombings and missile tests the group continued as though nothing would phase them. That was roughly just less than a year ago, the appearance of powered individuals - “superheroes” - and especially the Superman caused distress and ultimately froze the group’s operations to a halt. Recently though Chaz returned to Arnold - informing him of a new hit...

Optional information
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Nemesis: None so far,
Allies: None so far,
Team: None so far,