Afro Samurai

The Astonishing X-Men

Apollo Cage

Apollo Cage

_{Student Information}

Gender

Male.

Age

17

Physical Traits

6’4, 225. Black hair, beard scruff.

Hometown

Harlem, Manhattan, New York.

Academics

Cage is, at his best, an average student. He does not excel nor lag behind.

Personality Traits

• Fearless
• Willing
• Intuitive
• Introspective
• Sensitive

• Stubborn
• Arrogant
• Indulgent
• Brash
• Abrasive

_{Gifted Youngster}

Call-Sign

Apollo

Costume

Apollo does not have a costume and prefers not to work in one, opting for the minimalism his father employs. He is usually wearing shirts and jeans with some form of sneaker and he sometimes wears a hoodie though he dislikes wearing hoodies because of his father’s affinity for it. He does like to wear Timberlands of varying color.

Mutation

Superhuman Durability: The legacy of the name Cage is one born of people unfelled. Apollo, like his father, possesses a great deal of resistance to physical harm. Conventional weapons: knives, guns, bullets, etc. have no effect on Apollo. Apollo proves tougher than his predecessor, however, in that energy based attacks and most kinds of sharp objects and metals do not affect him--alien or otherwise (Vibranium and Adamantium are exceptions to this broad rule). Where his father had a special weakness to energy based weapons and powers, Apollo does not, and energy based offensives prove less effective than some conventional weapons if they do not carry concussive force.

This resistance extends to major temperature changes as well: heat, cold have little to no effect on him. It is not that he cannot ever be burned or frozen, but it takes a great deal of either to begin to effect him in any significant way. He can withstand being set on fire and having large objects fall atop him; he can also survive falls from 100 feet or less.

Superhuman Strength: Apollo is also incredibly strong, though he is nowhere near the par of his father or other powerhouses. He is, as some mutant experts would call right now a ‘peak human’ when it comes to how much force he can exert. That is, he can lift--with maximum effort--around 800 pounds.

Enhanced Stamina: Cage can exert energy for longer than a normal human and for longer than a peak human as well before he gets tired. A maximum of six hours of continuous exertion before he gets tired.

Weaknesses

You Only Look Unbreakable: His organs are still soft and all can still suffer major damage if the threshold of what his body can withstand is surpass. He still needs to breathe and eat and sleep.

Knuckle Up Then: Cage is nowhere near a master--or even proficient--at technical martial arts beyond streetboxing. Despite his strength and hardiness, Cage can be beaten if outsmarted by an opponent.

Leave the Books to Someone Else: Cage is no supergenius and is not someone who would is to be called upon to solve philosophical dilemmas or complex matters of mathematics, science, or any other theoretical or advanced applied disciplines.

Who Really Down For You?: The Harlem of his father’s youth is certainly not the one Apollo grew up in, parts of it filled with coffee shops and ripe with gentrification, but Apollo has inherited the callous mistrust the city forged in his father and does not trust many.

Magic: He has a special weakness to magic abilities and enchanted weapons can lance his skin upon contact.

Prior to Joining the School

2001: Apollo is born to Luke Cage and Misty Knight.

Childhood: Apollo is afforded a tumultuous childhood with his father’s field activity and hi mother’s duties as the lead detective of the city police department. It is for this reason he is, as a child and young teenager, rebellious like his father--he hangs around older kids who are bad influences on him and is up to all kinds of mischief. When his parents find out, they put a stop to his budding rebellious nature and opt to settle down and raise Danielle and Apollo with Luke as a stay at home father.

2014-15: While at the grocery store with his father, a robbery occurs. Apollo’s mutant abilities activate and he and his father stop the robbery. Elder Cage takes Apollo under his ring and shows him the basics of how to wield his powers. Lacking proper knowledge of mutants and mutations, Cage sends Apollo to Xavier’s school a year after he finds out the nature of his son’s powers.

Post Powers

Apollo does not immediately join Xavier’s School when his powers manifest, instead working with his father in learning--in part-- how to consciously temper his strength output and the basics of unarmed combat. It is not long before he does attend Xavier’s school, around a year after his powers manifest. When he joins Xavier’s Institute at fifteen, Apollo spends much of his time in classes, learning what it means to be a mutant and it is here he remains to the present day.

_gold

Relationships

_{Apollo Cage’s Relationship Sheet}

Friend // Acquaintance // Frenemy // Rival // Enemy // Crush / Significant Other

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The Young Avengers: Probation

M I L E S M O R A L E S

L O S A N G E LE S

---

^{? ??, Present Day | 9:30 A.M. | California}

Miles sat in the back seat; Jefferson, his father, and Gloria, his mother, sat in the front. Mushed beneath luggage: dufflebags, suitcases, laundry baskets, Miles found no comfort and was sitting in quite an awkward position. As they passed through the city, Jefferson turned down the radio and twisted around in the front seat,

“Miles.” Miles had his headphones in, eyes closed.

“Miles!” his eyes shot open, he pulled the earphones out, an eyebrow raised at his father’s beckon. He was sure he had not done anything wrong, though his list of things he had probably done was much longer than he could likely remember.

“S’up?”
“Don’t ‘s’up’ me, boy.”
“Yes, sir!” Miles saluted,
“Miles.” Jefferson’s tone was flat, Miles knew.

“So, this new school you’re going to, I don’t want Tony Stark calling my phone talking about you’ve been acting up, hear me? You ran me and your mother ragged the last time you were in school and if we have to come up here to collect you, neither one of us are going to be happy about it. Understood?”

“Yeah, totally, pop. T-o-t-a-l-l-y.” Miles gave a grin; Jefferson knew the mischief hiding behind that smile.

Gloria added, “And mijo, make sure you call. You don’t want me writing you letters all the time, do you?” Miles was shaking his head frantically in the back; in a nest of peers, recieving letters from one’s mother was rife for becoming the hind of many jokes and many cruel pranks,

“Do you?” she re-iterated, an eyebrow raised,
“No. No letters… _{no giftbaskets with flowers and roses either}” he muttered,
“Excuse me?” nothing was hid from Gloria Morales. Nothing.
“I didn’t say anything.” the car pulled up to the facility.

Miles uncorked himself from the puzzle that was the luggage between which he was trapped and threw the dufflebag strap over his shoulder so it sat at his hip; he grabbed one of the suitcases and pushed the door nearest the curb open where he stepped out and gazed over the gleaming facility. From the front seat his father and mother exited; his father grabbed one of the suitcases and handed it to his son. Gloria hugged and kissed her son,

“Be safe,” then Jefferson came around and finished the departing gestures with a firm hug. He patted Miles on the back a few times, Miles’ hands were indisposed with suitcases otherwise he would have hugged back. Jefferson kissed Miles on his forehead,

“Remember what I said. Don’t make me come up here, boy!” a smile,

Gloria waved Miles off, “Well, go go! Go have fun!” both his parents got in the car and sped off at a pace which made Miles believe they had been desperately waiting for this day for months. There was but smoke and screeching tires.

“Wow, love you guys, too.” he coughed, exhaust smoke aggravating his lungs. He turned and faced the looming Avengers facility with the large A imprinted on the front,

“Well… here goes nothing.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Thank you! You guys all seem really nice already! I'll join the Discord once I'm on my laptop ^^. Just as a warning though, I'm not much of a talker on there (I'm actually really shy and nervous to, sorry \(>///<)/ ) so if I'm really quiet on there, that's why.

Also, where would be a good place to jump in, or should I just make an introductory post and go from there?

@Tenma Tendo

just do an introductory post and go from there

Justice League: Shadow of the Gods (Always Open)

M A H A R A

S H I R U T A, K H A N D A Q

---

^{January 1st, 2052 | 0510 Hours | Shiruta, Kahndaq, Egypt, Africa}

Mahara left her helm in her room, and followed the trail of the young girl toward the general area of her father’s throne room. Each step there felt heavier than the last, but that was just the armor and the fatigue. Through the curtains the sun caught her face, it only highlighted the sloppy strands her black hair sat in and the practiced look of deference she needed to apply when speaking to her father--when she rehearsed, it made it easier to hide the fear and the scowl that had found impression on her countenance.

The walk to the throne room was shorter than she remembered. All things were shorter when one had not slept, as if time itself had dislodged from linearity and moved in one ethereal, oblong shape. Around, and stretching, and then down where it hung for a while and raked Mahara’s nerve. She hated how time kept up such games; never moving fast enough for her to try again at resting, and always moving slow enough for her to count how little she had been able to accomplish on this quiet frontier of this cold war.

She had plans in case the Neo-Thanagarians sought outright invasion, a good general would. That was the least of what was required of her; she had not the slightest idea of what to do should the Neo-Thanagarians, say, infiltrate the Kahndaqi network of spies or cause some sort of insurrection. There was also the matter of her father’s seat on the council. He was a temperamental man, and would risk outright war for the smallest offense; it was good, at least for that reason, that Doctor Sivana was on the Council. It was better, for that very same reason, that Black Adam could defer the duties of ruling an entire kingdom--though Kahndaq itself was small in comparison to the other nations beneath the Legion--to his children and what ‘allies’ he had.

As she approached the outer doors which lead directly to the throne, she was greeted by two soldiers who were adorned in gold plated armor and long halberds which pulsed with unidentifiable energy. A nod of her head, they moved aside and the large ornate doors swung open. Mahara walked in, her ebon armor clanging with each step.

”Father, you have requested my presence?”

The royal herald, dressed in traditional Khandaqi robes, banged his staff and cried out, “The Princess Mahara, General of the Royal Army.”

King Teth-Adam, Black Adam, known as hero and conqueror, villain and liberator, savior and murderer, inclined his head, “I am not blind herald, I know who my daughter is.” Adam was a powerfully built man, with an ageless austere cast to his features and a hard steely gaze that declared his true nature. That of a warrior, before all else. He wore no elegant robes, no ostentatious crown. His kingly garment was a simple black vest and his crown was an unassuming golden band adorned with a lightning bolt. His throne was smooth black stone. By his side was his wife, the Queen Adrianna, beautiful and elegant and only slightly more rich in appearance than her husband.

The Queen, with her smooth olive skin, long black hair, and striking green eyes favored her eldest child with a smile. Mahara’s Kingly father was not so warm and only nodded at Mahara. His right hand was scarlet red, heartsblood still dripping to stain the throne he sat on. Directly in front of the throne was the dead man, a hole in his chest where his heart used to be. A washbasin stood next to Adam’s throne but he made no move to clean himself, instead gesturing to Mahara to stand before him next to the corpse.

“A traitor to our kingdom. This officer was going to defect to the Thanagarians. His head will be placed on a spike for all in Shiruta to see. They will see the price of treachery and sedition.”

Black Adam looked his daughter in the eye, “And as for you, my General, there must be a price for your failures. For five years, this war of shadows and lies has seen the Hawkmen strike at us in a thousand subtle ways. We are losing. It is clear that you are a warrior and not a sneak-thief. This is commendable and fitting for my eldest child. But your talents lie elsewhere.”

The King of Kahndaq gestured to waiting servants, who quickly and quietly pulled the body away, “Sivana tells me that with the assault on Thailand, this war is beginning to spill out from the shadows. We must take action, if we are to crush the Neo-Thanagarians and their allies, and secure Kahndaq’s safety. You will go to the Fortress of Doom and you will make yourself available as an operative to the Legion. You will help them in their fights. You will disguise your identity to deny any ties from Kahndaq to the Legion. And you will keep an eye on our so-called comrades, including Sivana, and report back to me all you see and hear.”

He paused for one weighty moment, “Do you understand?”

In the thralling throne room she felt no greater than an insect. Her feeling was true, for she was not. Unmitigated power graced the seat of the throne. Khem Adam, the most powerful tyrant the middle east and northern Africa had ever seen. Before him, Mahara felt weightless, when beckoned closer, her steps clinked with the shifting of the plated black armor. She stopped before the steps of the throne, not even she was permitted to touch them. She had half mind to bow to a knee, but she did not. Prostrating in front of her father was something she would not do, no matter how powerful he was.

A traitor’s head to be put on a spike, the heart of the traitor clutched in his father’s hand. A gruesome sight, but not one she had not seen before; she was numb to the violence. Still, watching mutilation of human bodies was something which kept her up at night, nevermind the nightmares and the paranoia.

Her own grey eyes--ones she had not inherited from either of her parents--rested upon the matriarch; she truly had gotten most of her looks from her mother (and thank goodness because her father was an ugly man), the smile her mother gave to her warmed her heart. The callous distance her father countered still that warmth for but a moment. As always, her father’s words sliced the deepest,

”A price for my failures? How have I failed? YOU--I have done--” and she caught herself. About the room she had glanced, first to the window--no purpose behind such a move, merely a buffer, something to stare at other than her father who sat mighty and earthed in front of her. Then her visage switched to her mother, the green in her own eyes suddenly lacking warmth. Adrianna could be as gelid--and even more--than her husband.

Mahara closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled to release tension,

”Very well. Where am I to be sent?” she cleaned her diction and scraped the laiase with which she spoke around peers and commoners when speaking to her father.

Adam, regarded his eldest with his coal-black eyes and replied, “The Fortress is hidden by powerful magic, in a land apart from ours. I will open the way.”

The King rose from his seat, floating from the throne to stand beside his daughter next to the emblem carved into the throne room floor in the shape of the House of Adam’s sigil, a black fist clenching a thunderbolt. Adam uttered one word, which came as both a whisper and a deafening shout, “SHAZAM!

Out of nowhere, a dark cloud materialized from above the open skylight and lightning streaked down to strike the emblem. A portal of static opened up, revealing a world of red skies and dark forests. Queen Adrianna stood and said, “Go with our blessings and our love daughter. Send us communications via your magicks. And return to us in triumph.”

Black Adam turned to his eldest child and a spark of warmth seemed to spark in his gaze, a flicker of candlelight that was gone in an instant. He grasped Mahara’s cheek with his bloody hand and said lowly, “Do not fail me.” With that, he returned to his throne, not sparing his daughter another glance.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

^{But First, the Smallest of Steps}

Hounds Base, Helipad

---

Bullets bouncing off him awoke him from his trance; his iris returned to their arrayed colors. Around went his attention with gained rapidity, it took him a moment to adjust to the changed scene. There was Iron Knight beside him suddenly and he was sure he felt some cold fly past his head some moments earlier, the black and purple-pink streak disappeared long before he could register--or rather, bothered--to register its presence. Up to a vertical position he got. Whatever helicopter the group of men were supposed to be retreating to had disappeared over his head.

Eyes beheld the remnants of the Hounds as the backpedaled into their new nothingness which was formerly an escape plan. Pantheon was already unnerved and annoyed. What he normally saw as trifle had become hindrance; this was all taking too long. Toward them he marched; the lightning which coursed down his arm ceased. He paused in stead. Her image burned in the back of his and Hassan’s conscious.

It is time to leave. Let them deal with this.
No way we’re leaving! We’re here to help!
And all we have done is kill.

Break the child’s resolve.

Pantheon put the image in their mind of the mangled Hounds, the ordeal with the bat; the man Pantheon had tossed out of the tower at LHU, the dead mecha pilot--who Hassan was sure he had let live.

No, no. YOU did that! Not me! I--”

Pantheon was not so impregnable.

Find the separation, find himself. Fear; Hassan could smell it. A grip was easier now. Perhaps this woman was his key to being done with Pantheon, with this monster.

And? Th--”

Focus, Hassan! Fight! Pantheon’s feet grew heavy, the rainbow iris grew hazel--the color of Hassan’s eyes. The world he saw as dissonance and shades of emerald, blue, red, yellow was now one congruous color. Hassan felt something akin to himself--his own thoughts, his own feelings, just as he did while in that… place. Woah.

He tried to move, he could manage but a few steps. His gait resembled more an infant gazelle than a grown man. Although… his circumstances were special.

“What the? Hooo-leeee shit! Is this real? I--I’m doing it!” as the Hounds continued to fire at him, he turned stiffly to the Iron Knight,
“Mr. Tinfoil, I’m doing it! It’s me! It’s really me!” excitement high and fresh thoughts blooming a mile a minute, he suddenly bulleted toward the Hounds in front of them and scooped two into the nooks of his elbows and flew them upward.

“Wait, wait! This isn’t what I wanted to do! Oh, hell… er!” Hassan glanced at both men individually but offered them the same question; looks of horror and amazement plain and recognizable on their face if not covered by their masks and their cries for help,

“Either one of you fellas know how to uh… control a uh… magic man… thing?” they were still screaming. Not helping at all! Hassan would have to take a crack at this thing himself; maybe do it like he saw in the movies!

“Uh, systems off! Uh, power down! ...Gah, big ugly stupid fucking lightning bo--WAAAAH!” the boy wanted control? He would get it. Pantheon brought the trio hurling down toward the helipad at highspeed!

“No, you big dumb idiot! Cease and desist! Abort!” Hassan clutched the two Hounds into his bosom tighter and braced for impact atop the helipad’s surface. It was about to be a boisterous re-entry and a dreadful start to this… whatever had just started--but it had started.

The Young Avengers: Probation

Arachnid

Miles Morales

Basic Profile

Gender

Male.

Age

18.

Physical Traits

6’0, 190. Hazel eyes. Black hair.

Hometown

Brooklyn, New York.

Personality traits

• Introspective
• Compassionate
• Bold
• Improvisation
• Witty

• Stubborn
• Impulsive
• Tempramental
• Easily frustrated
• Foolhardy

Hero Related Information

Call sign/Codename

Arachnid, Spider-Man

Costume

Miles suit is black and red and its web patterns are red wherever they appear. The suit’s design is the same as the other spider people’s suit and mimics that of Peter Parker’s but with a different color scheme.

Power Suite

Danger Sense: Danger sense is, simply put, precognition. Colloquially, it is called ‘spider-sense’; it alerts Miles to danger a few moments before the danger occurs and gives him the ability to react to things he otherwise could not.

Bioelectricity Manipulation: Miles knows it as his Venom blast, an electrical biokinetic shock which can incapacitate opponents. Miles can use this to charge his punches kicks. He can use this manipulation of his boy’s electricity to produce electric spinnerets which act like the webfluid from his web-shooters which allow him to attach himself to solid objects and transport through the air.

Superhuman Reflexes: Separate from his danger sense, Miles can react to projectiles and objects at levels well beyond humans, olympic athletes, and peak humans. He cannot dodge bullets, and there is no guarantee that he will properly react to things at all times.

Wall Crawling: Miles, like other spider-people, can stick to walls and climb surfaces of most kind. Wet surfaces are harder for him to latch to.

Accelerated Healing: Miles can heal at faster rates than most. It takes him only a few days to heal from normal injuries which it would take normal humans to recover from in a few weeks. He cannot recover lost limbs nor does he instantaneously heal mortal wounds and he can still die from all mortal wounds.

Superhuman Strength: With maximum concentration, Miles can lift a large truck.

Superhuman Speed: Miles can achieve maximum north-south speeds of 60mph. When ascending and descending more jagged and uneven surfaces, it is his agility which shines and not his speed.

Superhuman Agility: Miles can transition between uneven surfaces with relative ease. His body is loose and moves through its kinetic chain with less rigidity than normal people. His body is loose and relaxed more naturally than a regular human’s.

Invisibility and Camouflage: Like the bio-electricity, Osborn’s genetically modified spider also gave Miles the ability to turn invisible and to blend in to other surfaces. He can only maintain this camoflauge for a few minutes before it dissipates on its own.

Weaknesses

Still a Child: Miles is still human despite his spider powers. Any number of sufficient means to kill a human is sufficient to kill him.

Keep on Swingin’: Miles is still learning how to become a hero and is stubborn; he he needs the guidance of mentors and friends to help him live up to these new responsibilities.

Gotta Knock You Out: Miles backs down from no challenge regardless of whether it will be detrimental for him and some of those around him.

’Heroing’ Experience

Miles has been an active hero for about a year and a half, his first major encounter having been with The Kangaroo, an Australian criminal on Brooklyn’s east side. He has also encountered The Prowler, Bombshell, and Boomerang. It was his encounter with the Prower--who ended up dead in his encounter with Miles--which made Miles’ identity public and sent him on a quest to clear his name.

Origin Story

His mother and father, Rio and Jefferson Morales, respectively, raise Miles in the projects of Brooklyn. Miles lives a relatively quiet adolescence until...

Bitten by Norman Osborne’s genetically modified Spider 42, Miles gains the powers of the a Spider much in similar vein to Peter Parker. Miles begins his heroing on the eve of his 17th birthday.

Important Relationships

• Gloria Morales (39): Mother.
• Jefferson Morales (41): Father. Miles role model.
• Ganke Lee (18): Miles best and closest friend and confidant.

Secret Identity Protection

Miles identity is public to all but he regrets it is so. His public identity being public is what keeps him unnerved a lot these days.

DC Unlimited 2.0 (Titans / JLU / Open World RP)

Saban Het, the new Doctor Fate

Player Name:
Afro Samurai

Primary Character:
Doctor Fate

Secret Identity:
Saban Het

Status:
JLU

Age:
26.

City:
Metropolis.

Day Job:
Full time League member.

Powers:

Mystic Bolts: Saban can harness magic in the form of streamlined energy which can breach defenses natural and mystical. It is his primary mode of offense.

Flight: Standard.

Spellcasting: The helm grants him access to a myriad of spells granted by the intuitive knowledge of Nabu himself.

• Binding: Saban can bind mystical beings (demons, angels, fairies, among other things) within the confines of a mystical circle for an indefinite amount of time. He can also create actual mythical chains with which to detain mystical beasts of most kind. Should it be necessary, he can use binding spells against normal people as well.
• Summoning: Fate can summon creatures from other dimensions to fight for him; he does so at the risk of not being able to send these creatures back to their own dimension if not done correctly.
• Banishment: He can banish otherworldly beings back to the realms from which the creatures came.
• Wards: Fate can erect massive magical shields and wards which rebuff corruptive and other forms of offensive magic cast against himself or an ally. These wards can sometimes prevent certain magics from functioning within them altogether, though this is rarely the case.

Telekinesis: Fate is also a powerful telekinetic, able to move and shift items with and without magic enchantment. The limits of his telekinesis extends to large buildings several tons in size.

Divine Empowerment: As the only one who knows Ra’s true name, Fate can grant boons to allies--or himself--against magical attacks. At its strongest, he can temporarily make someone immune to the effects of magic, but Fate himself remains unconscious until the spell wears off after a few minutes.

Energy Resistance: Fate does not have much in the way of physical invulnerability, even with the items of Fate; instead, Fate’s survivability is owed to his ability to tank many types of energy both natural and mystic.

Enchanted Armor: The armor of Fate allows Saban the ability to survive in the midst of mystical storms, traps, and wards. It also affords him a resistance to life-force draining.

Weaknesses:

A Man: He is a human when he does not have the helmet on.

Still learning: He is still learning how to properly wield the affinities afforded him by the helmet.

Anti-Magic: There are many ways to stop the sources of sorcery, as all energies have a tether to the regular world and when those artifacts and means are gone the magic ceases alongside the destruction of those means.

Loss of the Helmet: Without the helmet, he cannot channel his magic with the same efficiency as when he has it with him.

Even Fate Is Not Steady: One’s ability to wield magic is closely tied to the physical limits of one’s body, and the strain which using magic puts on one’s body makes spellcasting taxing on the body. Saban will grow tired and he must rest lest he succumb to fatigue.

Skills:

Archaeology: Saban was an archaeology student before he became a League member and he has great knowledge of earthen structures, artifacts, and history.

Mysticism: Saban has spent his life studying the ways of the occult, and has a wealth of knowledge about spells, tomes, and other magic artifacts.

Cooking: He is a good cook.
Appearance:

Saban, normal

BRIEF Bio:
Saban Het came from a long line of homo-magi whose power was come upon through their avid archaeological exhumations of ancient artifacts across the planet. As searchers of the mystic, the Hets became proficient magicians and their progeny were said to have latent magical abilities. In search of a successor, the aging Kent Nelson branded Saban; this branding led Saban to Kent himself. He was taken and trained with Kent when Kent was not on League missions.

Desiring something else, Saban requested leave from the Titans and went to gradschool.

In the battle with Doomsday the original wielder of the Helmet of Nabu, Kent Nelson, was killed. As cleanup crews arrive in the aftermath of the battle, the helmet is discarded along with other rubble and marked as ‘debris’. Before it is transported to be disposed of in landfill with the rest of the debris from the battle, the helmet seeks out its new successor.

The night after the the Doomsday battle, the helmet finds Saban in his home and rests ominously atop his shelf. Saban feels the call of the helmet in his sleep, visions of Kent’s death plague him in the night and he awakes to see the helmet. Knowing what is required of him, Saban dons the helmet and assumes the mantle of Doctor Fate, Lord of Order.

Supporting Characters:
(Will add as I learn of them).

Secondary Character: None.

Additional Notes:

My knowledge of Doctor Fate is near nihil; as I read through his series and appearances, I hope my portrayal of him improves.

DC Unlimited 2.0 (Titans / JLU / Open World RP)

Saban Het, the new Doctor Fate

Player Name:
Afro Samurai

Primary Character:
Doctor Fate

Secret Identity:
Saban Het

Status:
JLU

Age:
26.

City:
Metropolis.

Day Job:
Full time League member.

Powers:

Mystic Bolts: Saban can harness magic in the form of streamlined energy which can breach defenses natural and mystical. It is his primary mode of offense.

Flight: Standard.

Spellcasting: The helm grants him access to a myriad of spells granted by the intuitive knowledge of Nabu himself.

• Binding: Saban can bind mystical beings (demons, angels, fairies, among other things) within the confines of a mystical circle for an indefinite amount of time. He can also create actual mythical chains with which to detain mystical beasts of most kind. Should it be necessary, he can use binding spells against normal people as well.
• Summoning: Fate can summon creatures from other dimensions to fight for him; he does so at the risk of not being able to send these creatures back to their own dimension if not done correctly.
• Banishment: He can banish otherworldly beings back to the realms from which the creatures came.
• Wards: Fate can erect massive magical shields and wards which rebuff corruptive and other forms of offensive magic cast against himself or an ally. These wards can sometimes prevent certain magics from functioning within them altogether, though this is rarely the case.

Telekinesis: Fate is also a powerful telekinetic, able to move and shift items with and without magic enchantment. The limits of his telekinesis extends to large buildings several tons in size.

Divine Empowerment: As the only one who knows Ra’s true name, Fate can grant boons to allies--or himself--against magical attacks. At its strongest, he can temporarily make someone immune to the effects of magic, but Fate himself remains unconscious until the spell wears off after a few minutes.

Energy Resistance: Fate does not have much in the way of physical invulnerability, even with the items of Fate; instead, Fate’s survivability is owed to his ability to tank many types of energy both natural and mystic.

Enchanted Armor: The armor of Fate allows Saban the ability to survive in the midst of mystical storms, traps, and wards. It also affords him a resistance to life-force draining.

Weaknesses:

A Man: He is a human when he does not have the helmet on.

Still learning: He is still learning how to properly wield the affinities afforded him by the helmet.

Anti-Magic: There are many ways to stop the sources of sorcery, as all energies have a tether to the regular world and when those artifacts and means are gone the magic ceases alongside the destruction of those means.

Loss of the Helmet: Without the helmet, he cannot channel his magic with the same efficiency as when he has it with him.

Even Fate Is Not Steady: One’s ability to wield magic is closely tied to the physical limits of one’s body, and the strain which using magic puts on one’s body makes spellcasting taxing on the body. Saban will grow tired and he must rest lest he succumb to fatigue.

Skills:

Archaeology: Saban was an archaeology student before he became a League member and he has great knowledge of earthen structures, artifacts, and history.

Mysticism: Saban has spent his life studying the ways of the occult, and has a wealth of knowledge about spells, tomes, and other magic artifacts.

Cooking: He is a good cook.
Appearance:

Saban, normal

BRIEF Bio:
Saban Het came from a long line of homo-magi whose power was come upon through their avid archaeological exhumations of ancient artifacts across the planet. As searchers of the mystic, the Hets became proficient magicians and their progeny were said to have latent magical abilities. In search of a successor, the aging Kent Nelson branded Saban; this branding led Saban to Kent himself. He was taken and trained with Kent when Kent was not on League missions.

Desiring something else, Saban requested leave from the Titans and went to gradschool.

In the battle with Doomsday the original wielder of the Helmet of Nabu, Kent Nelson, was killed. As cleanup crews arrive in the aftermath of the battle, the helmet is discarded along with other rubble and marked as ‘debris’. Before it is transported to be disposed of in landfill with the rest of the debris from the battle, the helmet seeks out its new successor.

The night after the the Doomsday battle, the helmet finds Saban in his home and rests ominously atop his shelf. Saban feels the call of the helmet in his sleep, visions of Kent’s death plague him in the night and he awakes to see the helmet. Knowing what is required of him, Saban dons the helmet and assumes the mantle of Doctor Fate, Lord of Order.

Supporting Characters:
(Will add as I learn of them).

Secondary Character: None.

Additional Notes:

My knowledge of Doctor Fate is near nihil; as I read through his series and appearances, I hope my portrayal of him improves.

DC Unlimited 2.0 (Titans / JLU / Open World RP)

Mr. Terrific

Sengoku Space Opera

T H E L O T U S

G E N Z O K U P L A Z A

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^{? ??? | Night | Hakuto, Planetside}

Jiryu scissored half-breaths as he ran across the rooftops which hung high over Genzoku Plaza. Backlit sun toasted his skin and sweat barreled down the back of his neck; as he neared the edge of a massive shopping center rooftop he prepared to leap. One foot set his balance, the next was his gather, and with the third he soared across the cavity between the two buildings. The red keikogi and hood puffed as he sailed along the long gap and he landed with a roll. From his waist he drew a kunai; a twist of his body and he hurled the projectile with an efficiency gained by only the finest shinobi, for that is what Jiryu of the White Tiger clan was.

Kuroguro had his path impeded by the hurling ninja star, a twist of his body within three seconds of impact helped deter a fatal wound, but still shredded Kuro’s own indigo keikogi along the right arm and left a horizontal open wound to trail blood down his garb's side. He had to re-adjust the angle of his own leap; a roof turbine vent is where he made his new launch pad. Ascending it with a few less-than-calculated-steps, the Lotus leapt high and propelled himself along the same gap over which Jiryu had conquered some seconds before. Kuro landed with a roll and a grunt; he was not as nimble or as fast as the shinobi who was ten years his junior, and his body was letting him know in the most subtle ways these days.

Kuro rose from the ground; Jiryu of the White Tiger had taken off already. He was nearly across the length of a much wider roof when Kuro pulled a kunai of his own, the blade face etched with an eagle; it was the one with which Kuro never missed, or so the legend went. Between his index and middle finger he clutched the throwing dagger and bent his elbow back and then when he had it properly knocked, he let the kunai fly. Its trajectory was blinding, the mechanical ease with which Kuro moved through the throwing motion helped him eject and spring the kunai at a speed which appeared superhuman to the untrained eye. It was not true that he always got his target with this particular kunai but it was true that over the years his hit and miss ratio was above somewhere in the sixty fifth percentile. How shallow and embellished did word of mouth become.

Jiryu of the White Tiger had a kunai pinned in his shoulder blade before he knew it, and the pain which trounced up his spine and back down both of his legs and then settled into the soles of his feet made him drop and fumble on hand and knees. Dust marked the point of Jiryu’s collapse, and from behind it, the Lotus appeared. Hood and fukumen shrouding the ebony man’s face still. Jiryu rolled over and crab-crawled backwards.

“Hurry up and do it! Lord Onaga will fight you Koga dogs to the de--” near impregnable black smoke rose from between Jiryu and Lotus. Both coughed, almost in sync. From the pit of the smoke rose a figure, a man who who was clad in a business suit, bearing a NobuZai signet; his hand was made of metal. Before Kuro could make sense of what happened and the smoke had cleared, the NobuZai agent and Jiryu of the White Tiger had disappeared into the night.

Streetlights flashed below, all Kuro could see was a red keikogi bounced against the melanoid night. He pulled his hood and fukumen from his face and let out a deep breathe; his breathing was rapid and he was hyped on adrenaline. How he would relay to Lord Izanagi how his prey had gotten away concerned him briefly; what had his attention more were the cup of noodles and the ice bath he was about to take when he got home.