Birdboy

the Alliance of Liberty City

I am always down, but I am more than happy for a more convenient time to join up. I have a lot of reading to catch up on for this roleplay before I even start. I think he could definitely be in that team of bad guys too! He may be hard to get along with but his skills really go towards giving other people support. Could be cool to foreshadow his arrival by having some henchmen using freeze rays or a villian using a storm generator to make an escape or something, etc.

Metropolis of Superheroes

Post turned out way bigger than I thought. My other post won't be nearly as long. Let me know if there is anything I should do to change my post.

Metropolis of Superheroes

The sword glowed in his hands as the bellowing roar of the mighty dragon rattled the warrior to his very core; his very bones shook from the reverberations of the roar. Despite this, the massive knight stood firm, shield raised before him and sword in his hand at the ready. His armor was shining, freshly polished like a sports car straight off the dealership. The faint glow of holy energy emanated from his blade. The warrior was untarnished by the battle that had been fought. Nary a scratch upon his armor, the only blood that sullied his tabard was the blood of the dragon.

It was wounded but not yet defeated, a foot refusing to his the ground due to a massive gash on the palm. It kept it curled to its chest, struggling to balance on three limbs instead. Thousands of cuts caused the blood to ooze from the wyrm, and its eyes, once fierce and defiant, now showed a primal fear not unlike a cornered rat.

Dermont, thou shalt not dally

The sword's voice, rich and booming, echoed in the warrior's head. He gripped the blade tightly in response. Indeed, he would finish this swiftly from here. In one more blow. The dragon drew another haggard breath before unleashing another roar towards the valiant knight in shining armor. To its surprise, he matched it with an equally fierce war cry that shushed the dragon. It drew another deep breath, and Dermont saw his chance, charging in. This time, replacing its roar was a torrent of flames, but merely raising his shield was enough to protect Dermont. The flames licked at the reflective surface, seemingly drawn into the steel. His charge ended when his sheild slammed into the dragon's cavernous maw.

Doth not falter, thou must act now!

The sword once more entered the warrior's voice. The dragon's neck careened back, and effortlessly Dermont released the shield from his grip as the Dragon attempted to dislodge the metal from its mouth. Both hands gripped his sword now as he swiftly swung for the now exposed thought. The sword sliced it like butter.

Doth not dally, champion!

Dermont heeded the words, instead plunging his sword straight for the dragon's chest. He roared like a berserker as he pressed all of his weight into the thrust.

Wake up!

---

Dermont jumped up from his sleep. The sun in his eyes immediately caused him to throw his hands up to block the sun. The sun? Dermont looked about the parking lot of Up-N-Away Burger. The sun was up, which it hadn't been when he had fallen asleep. He was currently inside his car: a jalopy to be sure. His drive here had taken most of what remained of his money. He could not afford a hotel and was willing to risk sleeping in the open for just one night. Dermont scrambled to find his laptop in the clutter of the back of his car. It was supposed to sound an alarm when it was time for his first day. He found it underneath a burger wrapper and a French fry cup. Tapping the keys made no response. Dead. Had he forgotten to charge it?

A proper champion is punctual and vigilant.

The sword spoke to Dermont through his mind. Dermont frowned at the words, the first words the sword had to say in his head today. With a groan, he scambled about the car, collecting his belongings. The letter of acceptance and the diploma were locked away in his glove compartment. He pocketed them in the pants he had slept in. There was no time to change them now!

Warrior of light, you shall not leave without me.

"Yeah I know, I know. Trust me, I am not showing up like this," Dermont responded, motioning to his undershirt stained with the grease from last night's meal.
The sword's incessant words caused Dermont to rub his temples in frustration. He could feel the sweat still clinging to his body, the heat of the car having collected in the morning sun. The bags under his eyes felt heavy; it was not a particularly comfortable rest, either. The sword rested safely over his collection of comic books. It was a reminder as to why no one should bother him. Even the most brazen criminal would think twice about attacking the man with a great sword at his side.

Dermont gripped the weapon, slowly pulling the blade partway from its sheath so that the glowing steel was revealed. The sword's voice boomed in his head, causing the young man to flinch at the words in his head.

A proper champion must maintain proper hygiene and presence. A hero must look heroic to inspire others.

Dermont felt his cheeks growing rosy at the constant chiding of his blade, finally blurting out in agitation.
"Geez, what are you, my mom? I'm working on it!" He called out, scrambling through the mess of belongings in the car until he procured a bottle of body spray, his toothbrush brush and a stick of deodorant. He hastily applied each in quick succession as he found a mostly clean flannel button-up and threw it over his shoulders. Once he felt secure in this, he put the key in the ignition and turned it, listening to his car grumble and moan as the engine turned over again and again. Finally, after some trial and error, the car growled to life, and he peeled out of the parking lot. The car's clock gave him good reason to be in a hurry. It read 8:51.

The streets were far less busy than he expected them to be. Most people were likely already to their destination or waking up just like him. The rest likely used the various other forms of transportation: buses, cars, or, better yet, they had powers of their own to help them get around. It gave Dermont some relief from his growing nerves. Unfortunately, his sword had yet to give him any form of respite.

A good warrior shall always be prepared, Dermont. Thou hast disappointed me.

Dermont shrank at the growing disdain in the weapon's tone. He knew better than to argue with Nothung. It was right, and he was its servant. He preferred to count his blessings that the magical weapon had not revoked its power.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-" He stopped himself. How would he explain to an ancient being, one with inherent power, that he was anxious? Would that even matter? Nothung clearly sensed his unease as they pulled into a parking lot.

Remember, Dermont, my champion-"

Dermont finished the line, irritation boiling over in his voice.
"Does not falter in the face of animosity. Yes, thank you for the reminder." Dermont groaned as he threw the shifter into park and pulled the key free. A moment of silence between the two of them gave Dermont a final moment of repose. He looked to Atlas Park in the distance. The massive statue just before the town hall, two towering bastions of justice, filled him with a new energy. He was here after months of training, after managing to pass his exam, and after a lifetime of dejection; he had a real purpose worth being proud of. He was a hero, a super one a that. He was the champion of a sword of magical origin. He took a deep breath to center himself before exiting the vehicle.

My champion shall not present himself as so. Thou shalt don thine aegis.

With another deep breath, Dermont controlled his anger and fear, finding solace in the blade in his hand. He thrust the sword into the air, but nothing happened, not even as the morning sun reflected off the glowing blade dramatically.

Thou shalt utter the incantation.

"Oh come on, do I have to? Dude, seriously, I am in a rush!" Dermont groaned. He could see people watching him now, and his cheeks grew rosy with second-hand embarrassment. Still, the sword stayed firm to its principles.

Thou must utter the incantation, and shant refer to me as 'dude'.

Dermont grumbled to himself, but he knew that arguing with Nothung was a Sisyphean task. Instead, he resteadied his stance and cleared his throat before he spoke aloud, making his voice as deep and booming as he could.

"In the name of Nothung, I harness your power! Adorn me with your aegis, grant me your protection and power so that I may cull the wicked and slay the unseelie!"

The sword glowed more and more with each word until Dermont, too, was coated in a golden aura. He swirled in place, the energy coating him until he was a silhouette of light. Armor appeared in a burst of sparkles: first a chain shirt, then the breastplate over top. A wave of his arms, and the pauldrons and gauntlets appear too. With one final battle pose, the aura faded, and Dermont was now coated in his armor. A single onlooker clapped for him, but Dermont could not pay them any mind. He was late already, and he ran for the park as fast as he could, clanking with each step.

As he neared the entrance to the townhall, Dermon was gasping for air. His run turned into a pathetic jog as he saw a group of other heroes, or at least people dressed like heroes. He waved to them as he called out.

"Wait! Valiant... reporting... for... duty!" He called out through staggered breaths. His jog turned into a walk and he nearly collapsed against the railing of the stairs as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Am...I...late..."

Metropolis of Superheroes

Valiant

Dermont Butts

Appearance:

Description: Dermont stands at a solid six feet (183cm) and a hefty 254lbs (113kg). He is a somewhat husky young man with a paunchy gut but with an otherwise strong build, with visible muscle on his arms and legs.

His skin is pale and pocked with the occasional pimple. His hair is an auburn brown and reaches just past his shoulders. His eyes are brown and somewhat beady. His face is angular with a strong jawline, which is kept well-shaven. Unlike the rest of his body.

Age 22 | Gender: Male | Occupation unemployed nerd

Personality:

A down-to-earth young man, Dermont is generally speaking soft-spoken and shy. He thinks very little of himself, and it shows in his personality: timid around others, humble and patient in the face of adversity. He would much rather endure his issues rather than face them. He asks very little of others, which many might see as selfless, but in truth, it all goes back to his lack of confidence. He sees others as simply more important and more likely to do something with their lives. In his eyes, he is just an unemployed nobody nerd without a care in the world.

While he might be a bit rough around the edges, mostly lacking etiquette and tact, Dermont is otherwise a very kind person. He is patient with people and slow to anger, and empathetic to even those who seem actively evil. Despite putting himself into danger, he is shockingly light-hearted about things. He uses comedy as a defense mechanism and a way to cut the tension. Quips are a particular favorite of his.

Background:

A kid who grew up bullied for his name, unnoticed for his looks, and generally a complete nobody all his life. With the real world being so harsh, he turned to the fantastical, enjoying reading and movies while other kids played outside. During his first year of college, he saw a flyer for a LARP group and eagerly joined. There, he met his only true friend, a man in his late thirties who began teaching him how to play a 'Warrior'. Strange as it was, LARP became Dermont's favorite thing, and so he threw himself into the hobby. He began reading old sword-fighting manuscripts, practicing daily, and demolishing the competition.

It was during a huge LARPing event that his life changed drastically. While scouting deep into the woods to try to find a way to flank the opponents in tomorrow's 'battle', Dermont stumbled upon an enchanted grove. Sitting on a bizarre stone altar was a glowing sword. Mistaking it for the 'loot' scattered across the area, Dermont moved closer to inspect the weapon. When he touched it, the weapon spoke to him, proclaiming that Dermont was one of the greatest swordsmen of the time and the only one with a heart pure enough to be worthy. Dermont accepted the responsibility and so he was clad in new armor.

At first, Dermont was eager to accept his new weapon. He showed it to his fellow LARPers and to his surprise the weapon seemed pleased by them. These were the warriors who had trained him, and it gave thanks. Their time in the game together quickly showed Dermont that the sword meant business. When the orc cosplayers showed up it acted as though he should slaughter his friends, struggling to understand that this was all ficticous.

Once he brought the sword home, the shock hit Nothung. Dermont was content to lounge in his family home, eating pizza and watching reruns. Instead Nothung gave him an ultimatum. Do as he says or be rid of it's divine power. Dermont was put on an intensive training regiment, but his constant junk food consumption and years of doughiness did not diminish in mere months. Eventually he was instead told to go to Paragon city, expected to join the ranks. As eager as Dermont was, he had to admit that he did not feel ready. He was once again told that it was either this, or lose the sword entirely.

His family tried to stop him, but once Dermont showed them the true power of his sword, they relented. It was his responsibility to wield this great power. Dermont was an adult now, and they could not stop him from making this decision, despite how sad it made them.

Civilian Skills:

Nerdy encyclopedia: If there is a hero or villain who managed to reach stardom or infamy then chances are, Dermont knows about them

----- Hero Info -----

Valiant

Heroic Appearance:

Origin magical | Archetype Tanker| Level 1 | Group MAGI

Powers & Abilities:

Superpowers:

Primary Power: Holy Arsenal: Nothung the Dragonslayer, a magical and ancient source of power. It is a sentient weapon imbued with a purely good essence. Though its personality may have become jaded it's powers are virtually the same. Grant a user with a set of armor to defend them and a sword that can slice the flesh of the infernal. In time more items may be granted to him by MAGI, or perhaps by his weapon itself.

Secondary Power: LARP Skillz: Dermont has no real powers. What he lacks in superpowers, he makes up for with raw experience. He has spent years dodging lightning bolts and arrows, fighting off swarms of sword-wielding knaves as flail-swinging ogres. THey may not have been real but they prepared him for his time in the big show!

Weakness:
Worthy of the weapon: Only those deemed worthy by Nothung may use its abilities; to anyone else, it is a regular sword. Should Dermont not be pure of heart or somehow become unworthy as a warrior, he will not be able to use it. Nothung, the sword that grants his power, requires its hero to stand tall against adversity and put the destruction of evil before anything. It expects Dermont to prioritize culling evil over saving lives and to sacrifice himself if necessary. It does not allow its wielder even to entertain thoughts deemed 'impure' either.

-The weapon makes the man: Without his magical tools, Dermont is practically defenseless. He's not a particularly strong human either. Dermont knows this, and so he ties his worth as a hero directly to his weaponry.

-Starstruck: Dermont grew up hearing about these heroes/villains all the time, they are like celebrities to him, and sometimes, when dealing with a big threat, he can't help but geek out. This can be an issue when dealing with dangerous foes, especially as he may still want their autograph.

-Just a human: No super strength, no amazing powers, no predetermined destiny or lineage of heroes. Dermont is your everyday dork, and he breaks easily. Physically or mentally.

Supplementary Powers:

N/A

Actives & Passives:

Name: Holy beam
Type: Active
Rank: ★
Range: Ranged
Description: From the tip of his sword, a beam of concentrated light blasts from his sword. This beam deals more damage to a foe based on the darkness in their heart. To a common thug, it might just feel like a punch. To a hardened merc it may feel like a sledgehammer. To a Demon, it may feel like a gunshot.
---
Name: Absorbing sheild
Type: Active
Rank: ★
Range: Melee
Description: The shield used by Valiant has the capacity to absorb certain elemental attacks and release them back at their foes. Electrical, purely magical, fire, and ice-based attacks that are successfully blocked can instead be absorbed to blast out later. Only one attack can be absorbed at a time, and only so much energy can be absorbed at once.
---
Name: Sanctuary
Type: Passive
Rank: ★
Range: Melee
Description: Valiant's body is cloaked in the magic of Nothung and the armor it creates. This helps alleviate damage from most mundane means. It is by no means a surefire way to save the vessel but most blades fail to cut through his armor. The magic helps give some minor protection from magical attacks. In similar fashion, it just slightly diminishes the damage dealt.

Inventory:

• Superhero Costume (Key item)
• Nothung the Dragon Slayer
• The absorbing sheild
• Comic collection
• Beat up old laptop
• 1998 chrysler cirrus
• Sanctioned Hero Exam Diploma (Quest item)

Chamber of Wanderers

Hey it's ok. I am not expecting rapid-fire post haha! Hope things get less crazy over there!

Metropolis of Superheroes

ooooooops!

Metropolis of Superheroes

Nice! Let me know if you think of anything else to change. I'll move the sheet over when I get home.

Metropolis of Superheroes

Try now?

the Alliance of Liberty City

Oh no! Get well dude. Take your time and I am glad to edit as need be

Metropolis of Superheroes

All fair and valid critiques. I have just gotten home from my dnd game but I will begin making some edits asap. Most if not all of these are very reasonable things to ask for.

For the weakness I am not sure where I should put this sword's personality on the character sheet itself. I am imagining it as a very hauty, dour sort that is incredibly by the books and strict. It believes a hero should always be on their best behavior, be ready to die for justice and while it is seemingly never satisfied, it's more just expecting greatness from its wielder. I would love any notes on how you would like a weapon like this to act. Imagine it refusing to let him slouch, demanding Dermont to cull evil without a second thought, if a friend of his was endangered by a villain, the sword would expect him to take out the enemy and worry about his friend second.

For his motivations, I will try to incorporate it better, but I am imagining this is like having a childhood dream come true. Imagine getting a chance to be a big pop star or a fire fighter or whatever your dream was as a kid.