Bluetommy

Justice League: Rising from the Ashes

Hey all, this is coming back? Sweet!

Hitchhiking Through Space

Ahras awoke with a full-body twitch. Sore all over and very stiff, he climbed from the bed and scratched his head. He felt slow, and as he climbed from the bed, he felt light-headed and was struck with a splitting headache, leaving him blind for several seconds. His clothes were form-fitting, not a good thing, he couldn't remember much, but he could remember enough to know why he hated tight clothing. Noticing a pile of clothes at the foot of his bed, he grabbed them all and threw them on, not even removing the jumpsuit.

Quickly, he became very warm, a comfortable feeling, better than the damp coolness of the cell. Speaking of the cell, where was he? There weren't many clues. The door was still closed and it was not very bright. Just as he was about to finish putting on his right boot, a buzzer rang out and the door shot open.

Ahras was not prepared for this.

It was around five minutes later that he finally crawled out from under the bed, slowly and clandestinely. He felt no desire to leave, but he knew staying would get him nowhere. Contentedly sitting on the bed would have been nice, but this was a prison, and a prison meant guards, the doors were open, so it had to be time to get out and about. Dillydallying would only get him a lecture if he was lucky, a beating if he was less lucky, and something much worse if he was unlucky.

The door was open, and it beckoned Ahras, and he felt that no matter how hard he tried to resist, he was eventually going to end up outside. So, with knocked knees and slow gait, Ahras left the room, only to find that other prisoners had left beforehand. Prisoners were bad, hell, people were bad. Hiding behind the door-frame, Ahras barely poked his head out to listen to the others conversing.

The Legion of Superheroes RETURN

As Tommy cried out, Andrew felt his heart sink.

"I'm starting to regret coming back." He muttered to himself as he undid his cuffs and loosened his tie. "Hey, if I'm going to fight, I might as well look good doing it. I'll be right back, don't hurt yourselves while I'm gone." He stated calmly, turning to the arcade and rushing over, his suit jacket trailing behind him.

Oh boy, I'm actually looking forwards to this, get out some aggression, take my mind off the missing ones, maybe show some punk kid that superpowers don't make you invincible, unless your power is invincibility... oh god is his power invincibility? I can't handle that right now. Andrew closed with the shop quickly, though he had even more quickly begun to think that he had been a little impulsive.

Entering the shop, he approached the two superheroes with a raised eyebrow, though it was invisible to anyone but himself. Two metas? I can feel my resolve weakening. Andrew thought to himself as the darker man flinched away from the other, larger hero. His hands quickly transformed to metal, prepared for any form of attack.

"What's going on in here?" Andrew said, breathing deeply due to his short run. He turned sideways and lifted one hand to his chest, the start of a fighting position. He looked at the green-clad hero intrigued. The power radiating from him could be felt very strongly, even by Andrew, who possessed no natural energy-sensing abilities.

"Listen, both of you, I can tell that you're both very powerful, and I don't wish to antagonize the either of you, but if you could please take this conflict elsewhere, I don't want anyone getting hurt," Andrew pleaded. Though his words rang true about the green-clad one, he was simply appeasing the less-powerful one, he had no worries about that one's combat ability.

Hitchhiking Through Space

Name: Ahras Moh

Gender: Male

Age: 14

Appearance: Ahras is short, reaching a height of five foot six. He has bleached blond hair swept over to the left of his forehead, amber eyes with flecks of blue hidden within. He is slender and comely, with red cheeks and pale red lips. He has a short, thin neck and a small, smooth chin with not a hint of hair on it. His nose is small and round. He wears large clothing, thick jackets, hoodies, and baggy pants. This makes him look much larger than he actually is. He covers his lower face with a scarf most of the time, sometimes combining this with goggles to make his face completely invisible.

Skills/Abilities:

-Trained medic
-Exceptional pilot
-Good technician
-Good engineer

Personality: Ahras is withdrawn and antisocial. He is meek and quiet when spoken to and consistently uses closed-off body language. Ahras almost never laughs, and is serious no matter the situation. He clings to others who wish to protect him and never asserts himself. When in a stressful situation, his demeanor remains much the same, but he is capable of feats much greater than his meekness belies. Ahras becomes near silent when piloting a ship, plane, or other flying vehicle, tuning out all other background noise unless essential to remaining in the air and getting from point A to point B.

Inventory:
-Personal clothing and Grey jumpsuit
-CIM Band

Hitchhiking Through Space

Hey! I have interest and a sheet!

Basic Sheet

Name: Ahras Moh

Gender: Male

Age: 14

Appearance: Ahras is short, reaching a height of five foot six. He has bleached blond hair swept over to the left of his forehead, amber eyes with flecks of blue hidden within. He is slender and comely, with red cheeks and pale red lips. He has a short, thin neck and a small, smooth chin with not a hint of hair on it. His nose is small and round. He wears large clothing, thick jackets, hoodies, and baggy pants. This makes him look much larger than he actually is. He covers his lower face with a scarf most of the time, sometimes combining this with goggles to make his face completely invisible.

Skills/Abilities:

-Trained medic
-Exceptional pilot
-Good technician
-Good engineer

Personality: Ahras is withdrawn and antisocial. He is meek and quiet when spoken to and consistently uses closed-off body language. Ahras almost never laughs, and is serious no matter the situation. He clings to others who wish to protect him and never asserts himself. When in a stressful situation, his demeanor remains much the same, but he is capable of feats much greater than his meekness belies. Ahras becomes near silent when piloting a ship, plane, or other flying vehicle, tuning out all other background noise unless essential to remaining in the air and getting from point A to point B.

Over the Misty Mountains [LOTR] [Hobbit]

Sorry, but i'm going to have to drop out of this.

the minimalist nrp

RED

Name of Nation: People's Glorious Republic of Gionti

Color on Map: Red

Summary in 50 words or fewer: Rump state, former rulership over the lands of cyan and orange. Ruled by a succession of dumber and dumber rulers until finally collapsing. Recently taken over by a bright young fisherman who looks to re-unite the empire.

Three solid paragraphs:

"The death of dear Emperor Julien was a blow to us all, and it is due to that blow that I refuse to take the position of emperor. My fellow revolutionaries and I have decided that the empire is broken, and only a republic can fix it. We have prepared a new government, with myself as the Given Leader." The air was soft and cool as the new leader of Gionti made his speech to the massive crowd, they waved flags, shouted and screamed until their throats went dry, thoroughly indoctrinated into the new government's way of thinking. The emperor had been brutalized by the crowds when they had found him, dragged along the stones like a paint-brush, leaving red slicks wherever they took him. Like a toy, he was thrown around, savaged, torn to bits, until there was no emperor, everyone saw his for what he was, a man, not a god made flesh, his blood was red, his breaths haggard, his screams loud. When he was decapitated, no gold flew from the stump, blessing and cursing all who stood nearby. A man died that day, not a god, and with him went his empire.

This new man, his posture relaxed and confident, his brows a story of their own, hell, even his fingertips spoke to the crowd, he was less a man, more a golem formed out of the people's hopes and dreams, a brilliant future and a golden age. His head was bald and his face was buried in hair and yet it didn't matter, for they could have thrown a chimpanzee at his face and he still would have been loved, they could have set him on fire and he would have still been loved. This new "Given Leader" was a force, not a man, he had taken the emperor's godhood and drank his fill, becoming just as much a deity as the man before him, with even more power among the people. He made a show of pandering to the emperor's loyalists, but drying blood still rested under his fingernails, his hands cut to bits from the bit of glass he had stabbed a man with, but that was his manhood, the past, this was a leader, and a leader is more than any man could ever hope to be.

The people lapped up every sweet and precious word like it was their last fuel, they jumped and flapped their arms just to be noticed. It was a cult, a big, hideous, bloody mess of a cult. Every night the man at the head of it practiced his dark magic, learning how best to create love and harvest it like wheat. He was a king in all but name, forsaking that title to harvest his crop. He had no plans of sharing his power, with anyone under his rule or anyone outside it. He would own it all, if it did go his way, and he would be king among dukes, a power all to his own. The country was his old steed, perhaps holding a year or two left in it, gasping and panting. A year was all he needed.

the minimalist nrp

So should I bring my sheet over for review?

The Minimalist NRP

To show my interest, I threw together a sheet, some formatting but not on the level I want yet, anything that needs to be changed, toss me a post.

RED

Name of Nation: People's Glorious Republic of Gionti

Color on Map: Red

Summary in 50 words or fewer: Rump state, former rulership over the lands of cyan and orange. Ruled by a succession of dumber and dumber rulers until finally collapsing. Recently taken over by a bright young fisherman who looks to re-unite the empire.

Three solid paragraphs:

"The death of dear Emperor Julien was a blow to us all, and it is due to that blow that I refuse to take the position of emperor. My fellow revolutionaries and I have decided that the empire is broken, and only a republic can fix it. We have prepared a new government, with myself as the Given Leader." The air was soft and cool as the new leader of Gionti made his speech to the massive crowd, they waved flags, shouted and screamed until their throats went dry, thoroughly indoctrinated into the new government's way of thinking. The emperor had been brutalized by the crowds when they had found him, dragged along the stones like a paint-brush, leaving red slicks wherever they took him. Like a toy, he was thrown around, savaged, torn to bits, until there was no emperor, everyone saw his for what he was, a man, not a god made flesh, his blood was red, his breaths haggard, his screams loud. When he was decapitated, no gold flew from the stump, blessing and cursing all who stood nearby. A man died that day, not a god, and with him went his empire.

This new man, his posture relaxed and confident, his brows a story of their own, hell, even his fingertips spoke to the crowd, he was less a man, more a golem formed out of the people's hopes and dreams, a brilliant future and a golden age. His head was bald and his face was buried in hair and yet it didn't matter, for they could have thrown a chimpanzee at his face and he still would have been loved, they could have set him on fire and he would have still been loved. This new "Given Leader" was a force, not a man, he had taken the emperor's godhood and drank his fill, becoming just as much a deity as the man before him, with even more power among the people. He made a show of pandering to the emperor's loyalists, but drying blood still rested under his fingernails, his hands cut to bits from the bit of glass he had stabbed a man with, but that was his manhood, the past, this was a leader, and a leader is more than any man could ever hope to be.

The people lapped up every sweet and precious word like it was their last fuel, they jumped and flapped their arms just to be noticed. It was a cult, a big, hideous, bloody mess of a cult. Every night the man at the head of it practiced his dark magic, learning how best to create love and harvest it like wheat. He was a king in all but name, forsaking that title to harvest his crop. He had no plans of sharing his power, with anyone under his rule or anyone outside it. He would own it all, if it did go his way, and he would be king among dukes, a power all to his own. The country was his old steed, perhaps holding a year or two left in it, gasping and panting. A year was all he needed.

The Legion of Superheroes RETURN

@The Kid Lantern

Ferro Lad was upset, verily so. He had learned from Rokk that Star Girl had gone missing along with a group of new recruits, Ferro had already lost too many friends, he had begged and pleaded with the Legion's leader to go look for them, but he had none of it, thankfully. Ferro realized that going alone was suicide.

Ferro had been the one to suggest that everyone head out to go shopping, take their minds off everything, perhaps catch a movie. Ferro still wore his metal mask, he didn't want to traumatize any children as he had done in the past, poor kid, she deserved better. Another mistake Ferro had made, what a mess he was. Not that he looked it, dressed in a navy-blue suit over a crisp white button-up. He had thought about bringing a tie, but he had already been overdressed, and when he got ketchup on his jacket, he had swore at the top of his lungs in anger.

Eating was a problem, but Ferro had Bouncing Boy construct an opening mechanism so that it was easier back in the days of the old legion, yet another legionnaire whose fate he didn't know. Ferro had rarely eaten as a child, an as an adult, he often gorged himself, prior to his meeting with Rokk he had eaten a whole pizza in twenty minutes. He was both very pleased and very angry with himself, his toilet had been even angrier.

Ferro found himself cowed into silence around the younger recruits, their green-ness and everything was kinda an elephant in the room that Ferro just couldn't get around.

Just as he began thinking this, the youthful Daxamite destroyed a can as it was shot in front of him like a clay pigeon, metal fragments flying through the air in every-which direction. Though he was loathe to admit it, Ferro thought this was awesome.

"I'm sure Rokk just doesn't want anyone getting themselves killed by Braniac's cabal of cavernous coloned cybernetic creeps, you can refer to his as Rokk by the way, as acting second-in-command of the Legion, I've got his word on it." Ferro could barely hold back a chuckle as he imagined Rokk's reaction to learning what the Daxamite had been told. Ferro decided to enter the conversation because if he hadn't, he might as well have stayed at home, and that wouldn't have been any fun.