Afro Samurai

Heroes and Villains : The Resistance (HAV : TR)

@Timemaster Forgot to take that part out. His strength has been brought down to human levels.

Heroes and Villains : The Resistance (HAV : TR)

I thought we said I could keep the durability if I lowered the strength (which I did) to normal human levels? @Timemaster

Heroes and Villains : The Resistance (HAV : TR)

Quinton Hayes

Name: Quinton Hayes
Alias: None.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male
Allegiance: Hero.
Image:
Written Description: Typically in a tanktop, jeans (may vary in color), and steel toe boots.

Power Set (only one power per character): Cyrokinesis: One who can generate and utilize ice in a variety of ways. Above 212 celsius, his ice begins to melt. Extreme weakness to heat.

Background story: Southside of Chicago, Cabrini Green Projects, 2019. 8pm.

A black Honda Accord halts its advance along the curb; Hayes walks alone to the store, "Be home by 9:30, boy! No later!" his mother's incessant imperative rang through his head. Warm summer air swept soft overhead, the compact heat of a Chicago summer relaxes one's soul--or harpoons it with hatred. Streetlights were lit the sidewalk, though they offered no proper visual aid for anyone trying to make it to their destination with any semblance of punctuality, and the Accord's headlights blended all too well. Car doors jut open.

"'Q!" called Sonya, a young Hispanic girl with pink barretes, she rode a pink Hasbro tricycle without training wheels. She'd grow up to become an independent woman. Andre smiles at her as she offers him the remnants of her red sucker--

Bang, bang, bang.

Protocol. Quinton dives atop his young friend and covers her; gang related shootings were all too common on the southside, and the gang violence had become tradition, one kids like Quinton and Sonya had come to know all too well. Quinton had been on the wrong end of several shootouts even this early in life, but this time was different. He wasn't with the older kids from the neighborhood--he couldn't rely on them to shoot back. All he could do is pray, and praying ain't known to stop no bullets. Quinton closed his eyes and prayed, just as his grandmother taught him--the deafening blare of the gunshots died suddenly, a raspy voice commands amidst the growing silence, "Come on, nigga, let's go!" Whoever they were, they were satisfied with their work.

But their work was unfinished. Screams pierced the air as arrows to a bullseye. Quinton heaved inward--wait, what? I'm alive? The bullets were encased in ice, frozen solid in mid-air. He was dumbfoundead with shock, fear, awe; what is this? All he knew was that he was alive, and so was Sonya. Quinton stood up and snatched Sonya in his arms and smiled. Something monumental had happened, and he knew he had to tell someone. He sprinted home. "Ma, MA!"

Southside of Chicago, Cabrini Green Projects, 2028.

In the intervening years, Quinton had become a hero throughout his neighborhood, gang related violence and shootings in and around the Cabrini-Green housing projects plummeted to nigh-nothing. He had become a local legend and had attracted many friends--and enemies. And then the aliens came. One by one, "the Plague" decimated the Hero and Villain population alike. Even some of Quinton's closest powered friends met swift ends. He was lucky he had survived. Or so he thought; Cabrini-Green had several "mysterious sightings" in the days leading up to the invasion, and as one of the few powered individuals left, it was Hayes' duty to defend his neighborhood. Doom loomed, and eventually the aliens descended on the projects with unbridled force; Briggs fought with valiance, but it was futile. He was captured like the rest of the remaining powereds.

Nemesis (the alias and username):

Nemesis's story (how did they meet ? who won ? etc. This should be coordinated with the player that is your nemesis):

(If you need me to add more to his backstory, I will.)

@Timemaster

Heroes and Villains : The Resistance (HAV : TR)

Do we move our own CSs? I did post mine. @Timemaster

Hunters of Remnant: Bleeding Hearts

@Afro Samurai Your Semblance is really the only thing holding me back from approving this. It seems to just be standard Aura powers, plus the windy thing. I'm not opposed to a floaty Semblance, but you're gonna have to give me something a little less standard issue.

@EnterTheHero

Alright. I'll spruce it up later.

EDIT: @EnterTheHero Spruced.

The Hearts of Azalore (Fantasy, Grim-dark, Rp)

Ser Percival Lovestein

Race: Human
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Height: 6'3.
Weight: 245.

Biography

Born to a noble family in a distant land, his father was a retainer and a lord of a sizeable village during his kingdom's ten year peace in which the land prospered: mills churned wheat, yeast and drink was plenty, the blacksmiths were fat and satisfied and produced some of the finest armors in all the land, and babies--lots of babies--were made. Young Percival was amongst the baby boom that saw an entire generation of young ladies-in-waiting and gentlemen-at-arms refresh the once aging population of his kingdom. Amongst this new spawn of youth, Young Percival was among the most adaptable and elite combatants; those who bested him were often the older, more battle trained veterans with decades of experience--but Lovestein was a natural.

Young Percival's land was one that had a troubled history with mages. Earthly folk seldom welcome the mystical amidst themselves, hence Percival's strong grasp on the use of blade and shield. That is until the King finally smoothed over the 50 year tensions and minor squabbles that occurred between his knights and lesser lords and the Archmage of the Magis to the far West. Once of age, Percival was sent to the Academy by his father to learn the secrets of those enigmatic magi--and learn he did, though his affinity for magic was not as great as his prowess with a blade, Percival learned quick and soon was amidst the finest blademage combatants in within his kingdom.

A life of winning gets old, though--and when Ser Percival turned 25, he set out for fresh challenges, glory, gold, less than savory women with low expectations and few life goals. And this is how he came upon Azalore.

Personality

Brazen, loud, joyous, pompous. idiotic, confident, zealous, driven. He is a raucous man, but he is also a man who can keep his wits--and his drink--about him. He also likes seagulls.

Weapons

Rita: His shortsword. Nothing special about her.

Clementine: A massive Renntarsche that spans the length of Percival's body; it is surprisingly light in weight and is reinforced with a titanium-steel alloy which gives it immaculate resistance to physical damage and warping. It is also the physical source of his ability magic.

Abilities Magics

The Coliseum: An AOE domicile shield that deflects and in some cases re-directs projectiles and physical attacks away from all who stand in the 5x6 circle. If this is the first spell he uses, projectiles may also ricochet and careen off of other solid surfaces in an environment (may hit friend or foe alike).

Impregnable: He can shield up to three people with their own protective barriers, although with greater strain on his body than The Coliseum. If Percival uses this spell first, any projectile that comes in contact with any shielded party member is directed back at the attacker.

Diana's Touch: A minor healing spell, which restores some vitality to either Percival or another party member so long as he touches them. He does not have to lay hands on himself if he is trying to heal himself. This spell has no first use bonus.

Colossus of Bros: Reduces the armor penetration of an enemy's projectile for the entire party, while bolstering the defenses of his party mates. Has no first use bonus.

A Dainty Impalement: One of his few offensive magic abilities, if Percival strikes an enemy with his sword while this spell is active, it has a small chance of reducing an opponent's armor effectiveness.

Combat Abilities

Riposte: Though his shield is large, its light weight provides him the maneuverability necessary to be more than just a shieldwall. After blocking an attack, he can swiftly open up his guard and retaliate with a usually fatal counter-strike.

As a man in his athletic peak, Percival's strikes are poignant and precise.

Equipment

Heavy knight armor fit for his muscled frame. He does not wear a helmet. His chestplate has an eclipse emblazoned on its front, and so does his Renntarsche.

Dawn of Heroes, Dark days. (Gritty modern slice of life super powers.)

Michael Oakley

Name: Michael Oakley
Appearance:
Age: 26
Personality: A heavy drinker, he spends lots of time hanging at taverns. A cheapskate and a hoarder, he is well off though quite isolated from the world outside of the taverns.
Biography: He got his Masters in Philosophy from Cambridge University, but since then he has wasted his potential on alcohol and occasional drug indlugence. Why? He grew lazy, he felt he was too smart for the rest of the world to understand him though in reality he was nothing more than someone who failed to see his own arrogance. The details of his birth and his formative years are lost to him, all fuzzy memories of high expectations and gold stars, but no attachment to any of it.
Powers: Unknown.

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

Negotiation was not Rögdûl's strongsuit, his temper quick to flare should he feel his reputation or his ability called into question. The silence beckoned Nerakghu to step forward and handle talk.

(Nerakghu (SIDE), Advisor to the Red Chief, Outskirts of Praelium)

"Gentlemen."

Nerakghu's filmy eyes lacked the youth and vigor of his younger company, but they had seen far more--much like the crowd of human soldiers over whom his eyes fell as he spoke.

"Word travels far, Gajutar. Your country cries."

Dry Northern desert winds shuffled overhead, whipping Nerakghu's greying locks with the direction of the wind. His cold grey pupils trailed along the axis of his neck as he turned his head behind him to the barren rocky plains that lead back to the Northern hills. After a moment of reflection (and nonverbal conversational transition) he turned back to the officer who led the small defense force.

"The crows awake. Carrion from the North smell your defeat, and they are gathering. They lie low even beneath the sands of the foothills, and wait for. . . them to join the feast."

To any Praelium general's ears, it is clear who the Elder orc references.

"We, the Red Claw--and our High Chieftan--have come to offer you protection from the starkok, on the condition that you give us something in return."

A pause.

"Free passage into Praelium, and a small supply of weapons. Swords, bows and arrows, clubs. You do this, and you may consider your fine fortress forever free from the Northern pesks; and more important, you may consider the Red Claw an ally of yours till the Ends of the Ulragim."

The Hearts of Azalore (Fantasy, Grim-dark, Rp)

Ser Percival Lovestein

Race: Human
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Height: 6'3.
Weight: 245.

Biography

Born to a noble family in a distant land, his father was a retainer and a lord of a sizeable village during his kingdom's ten year peace in which the land prospered: mills churned wheat, yeast and drink was plenty, the blacksmiths were fat and satisfied and produced some of the finest armors in all the land, and babies--lots of babies--were made. Young Percival was amongst the baby boom that saw an entire generation of young ladies-in-waiting and gentlemen-at-arms refresh the once aging population of his kingdom. Amongst this new spawn of youth, Young Percival was among the most adaptable and elite combatants; those who bested him were often the older, more battle trained veterans with decades of experience--but Lovestein was a natural.

Young Percival's land was one that had a troubled history with mages. Earthly folk seldom welcome the mystical amidst themselves, hence Percival's strong grasp on the use of blade and shield. That is until the King finally smoothed over the 50 year tensions and minor squabbles that occurred between his knights and lesser lords and the Archmage of the Magis to the far West. Once of age, Percival was sent to the Academy by his father to learn the secrets of those enigmatic magi--and learn he did, though his affinity for magic was not as great as his prowess with a blade, Percival learned quick and soon was amidst the finest blademage combatants in within his kingdom.

A life of winning gets old, though--and when Ser Percival turned 25, he set out for fresh challenges, glory, gold, less than savory women with low expectations and few life goals. And this is how he came upon Azalore.

Personality

Brazen, loud, joyous, pompous. idiotic, confident, zealous, driven. He is a raucous man, but he is also a man who can keep his wits--and his drink--about him. He also likes seagulls.

Weapons

Rita: His shortsword. Nothing special about her.

Clementine: A massive Renntarsche that spans the length of Percival's body; it is surprisingly light in weight and is reinforced with a titanium-steel alloy which gives it immaculate resistance to physical damage and warping. It is also the physical source of his ability magic.

Abilities Magics

The Coliseum: An AOE domicile shield that deflects and in some cases re-directs projectiles and physical attacks away from all who stand in the 5x6 circle. If this is the first spell he uses, projectiles may also ricochet and careen off of other solid surfaces in an environment (may hit friend or foe alike).

Impregnable: He can shield up to three people with their own protective barriers, although with greater strain on his body than The Coliseum. If Percival uses this spell first, any projectile that comes in contact with any shielded party member is directed back at the attacker.

Diana's Touch: A minor healing spell, which restores some vitality to either Percival or another party member so long as he touches them. He does not have to lay hands on himself if he is trying to heal himself. This spell has no first use bonus.

Colossus of Bros: Reduces the armor penetration of an enemy's projectile for the entire party, while bolstering the defenses of his party mates. Has no first use bonus.

A Dainty Impalement: One of his few offensive magic abilities, if Percival strikes an enemy with his sword while this spell is active, it has a small chance of reducing an opponent's armor effectiveness.

Combat Abilities

Riposte: Though his shield is large, its light weight provides him the maneuverability necessary to be more than just a shieldwall. After blocking an attack, he can swiftly open up his guard and retaliate with a usually fatal counter-strike.

As a man in his athletic peak, Percival's strikes are poignant and precise.

Equipment

Heavy knight armor fit for his muscled frame. He does not wear a helmet. His chestplate has an eclipse emblazoned on its front, and so does his Renntarsche.

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

[Rögdûl the Red Chief, Gates of Fortress Gloria, Praelium).

The Chief removed the tribal blade from his back and layed it on the back of the massive armored warhorse. With two pats on the horse's hind, he sent the horse back North to the foothills of the Red Claw encampment. Then Rögdûl turned to the shouting soldier who appeared to be the leader of the group. A smirk curled across his face; Rögdûl's massive arms hung idle at his side, his pitch black iris' scanned the entire group. He could slaughter most of them with his bare hands--he nestled in such a thought for a moment before his daydream ceased and he returned to reality.

If you truly come in peace, lay down your weapons! Off your horses and lay on the ground! We will restrain you, for safety precautions!

Rögdûl let out a boisterous laugh! "a-ha. . . aha. . . Aha. . . AHAHAHAHA! With what? Your (mockingly) 'handcuffs!'? Bubhosh!"

But of course, he did not want to cause more problems than necessary. He did not, however, lie on the ground--that was weakness, and he would not display weakness no matter how many soldiers they brought. He curled up his thick, armor-covered fists and held them forward to be "restrained." His laughter fades into a lull. A smile still draped over his thick, leaf green lips and tough, sharp jawline.

Nerakghu followed suit.

"Let's get this over with."