Byrd Man

All-Star Marvel: Age of Heroes

Posting this here since it's up for review.

Daredevil CS

Player Name: Byrd Man

Character You Wish To Play: Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Moral Alignment: Hero

Affiliation: The Campisi Crime Family as well as various criminals and mobsters in New York.

Character Origin & Backstory:

Matt Murdock was born in the early 80's, son of Maggie Murdock and heavyweight boxer "Battlin'" Jack Murdock. Jack was an up and coming contender in the boxing scene with an outside chance at the title. He became enamored with the trappings of success, doing drugs and partying until late hours of the night. Maggie left Jack when Matt was three and never looked back. Matt's early impression of Maggie as a devoutly catholic woman who couldn't stand Jack's ways caused Matt to idolize his mother and condemn his father.

When Matt was eleven Jack had a shot for the heavyweight title of the world. The day before the fight mob figure Roscoe "The Fixer" Sweeney offered Jack a chance to take a dive. Strapped for cash and filled with the Fixer's promises, Jack took the dive in the sixth round and retired from boxing the next night. He soon opened up "Jack's Place" a tavern in Hell's Kitchen bought with Fixer's money to be used as a mob front. Matt saw his father's ties to organized crime figures tighten and began to hate the man. He ran away from home at the age of twelve and ended up an accident when a chemical truck nearly hit him and instead splashed toxic waste in his face.

The accident took his sight but it also gave him more. It heightened his other four senses to the point of superhuman and gave him a radar sense that negated any disabilities a lack of vision gave him. Jack felt guilt over driving his son away used his money to pay for anything the boy needed or wanted, including a tutor named Stick. The old blind man was hired to teach Matt to adjust to his blindness, but Stick taught him how to thrive. He recognized the hate and yearning in the boy, the passionate need to be better than his father. Stick channeled those feelings into training. He showed Matt how to live and operate in the world as if he were any other person, and he also taught Matt the secret skills of martial arts and Ninjutsu.

Matt went to Columbia University after high school to major in pre-law. The excuse he gave his father and the rest of the world was that he wanted to become a defense attorney. While it was true, it was also part of a much larger plan he had worked out with Stick. During Matt's time at college Jack began to work more and more for the Fixer's bosses with the Campisi Crime Family. Jack's Place began to be used as part of a large mob scheme to flood all of New York City with new and improved heroin from Asia. A DEA snitch fingered Jack as a dealer and he was brought into custody. He agreed to roll on those above him, but before he could an unknown assassin dressed as a police officer slit his throat with a razor-edged playing card while Jack was in police custody.

Matt graduated from law school first in his class just six months after his father's murder. Angelo Campisi, head of the crime family Jack worked for, took pity on the young man and threw some low-level defense cases his way. After Matt got the defendants off, Campisi began to use his legal services more and more. Before long he relied on Matt's legal advice on nearly all matters both large and small. Matt was made an unofficial consigliere of the Campisi Crime Family. Word began to get around New York and Matt Murdock was hired by other gangsters to defend them. All the media outlets in the city say Matt Murdock is the dirtiest lawyer in New York, if not the country. They say he manipulates the law to get his guilty clients acquitted. That's what the media says. By day the most amoral man in New York learns all the dirty little secrets of the mob as their adviser. By night, he becomes the thing they fear the most.

He becomes the Devil.

Powers and Abilities

Matt is blind, but his other four senses have been augmented to superhuman levels. The senses work together to create a radar sense that makes up for his lack of vision. The heightened senses also makes him into a human lie detector, capable of reading anybody's pulse or any small micro changes in their biology when they lie. Stick's training also turned Matt into a master acrobat and martial artist skilled in the art of Ninjutsu. Matt also has one of the best legal minds in the country, an expert on the American justice system that makes him a competent and formidable trial lawyer and legal adviser. His intelligence and experience in criminal law has also led to Matt developing a keen detective mind.

Sample Post

Murdock Law Firm
Midtown
9:45 AM

"'If Justice personified is blind, then Injustice personified most certainly is. That personification is a blind man. This blind man sits by the phone day and night, waiting for the call from some of the city's most dangerous and corrupt individuals. He talks about the lofty ideals and notions of justice in the courtroom, but one look at the last name on his client's list -- Campisi, Manfredi, De La Rosa, Blackwood -- and you know that Matt Murdock's talk is just that.' It goes on and on like that for another two pages. Bunch of talk about the mistrial with De La Rosa, then the stuff about the Crusaders... and then a last saying you should be disbarred."

"So, usual Daily Bugle boilerplate," I said to Karen. "Remind me to sue them for libel when I get the chance."

"Yes, sir."

That paper has attacked me so much over the past year that I could barely notice Karen's pulse rise anymore when she reads their editorials. They're not the only place that likes to attack me. Papers, websites, TV stations, even other lawyers and politicians all have an anti-Murdock stance. At least those not in the pocket of my clients.

"That's all, Karen, you can go."

Karen Paige, a paralegal and my only staff member quickly and quietly left the room while I leaned back in my chair. My office is on the fortieth floor of an impressive Midtown skyscraper. They say it has one hell of a view of Lower Manhattan. Guess I'll take their word for it. Someone once asked why I paid so much for the corner office with the view when I could have gotten another office building on the same floor without a view for a hundred thousand dollars cheaper. I didn't dignify them with a response. In this business, both of what I do on the books and off of them, you show strength by your decisions. A blind man wasting a hundred grand on a view he'll never see is part of my strength. I bought the office because I could.

Syosset, New York
6 PM

"Matt, my boy," Don Campisi said cheerfully.

His old and withered hands felt like sandpaper scrapping against the skin of my hands. He patted the back of my hand and put the other hand on my elbow to guide me across the lawn. He thought of it as a favor, but I could get around the yard better than he could.

"I'm so glad you made it out," he said once we were both sitting in lawn chairs. "I know it's a hell of a drive out of the city, especially for you."

"Well, I didn't hear any moaning under the car when I stopped, so I guess I did alright."

Campisi laughed at my joke before moving on to small talk. He had to tell me all about his kids that I didn't care about. I nodded at the right times and said the right things. After about ten minutes he finally got down to it.

"I want you advice on something. You know Joey Bags? Works with that crew out in Red Hook? He and Paulie came to me a few nights ago with an idea on a score. Those fucking biker pricks you repped last year, what were they?"

"The Crusaders."

"Yeah, them. They got a club over in Bensonhurst. Joey Bags and Paulie are gonna have a sit down with them tonight. They want to use these Cruasder fucks to mule coke and dope across the country. They're always going on these cross country rides to Piss-ant, Florida or somewheres out in California. They don't go on the interstate, and they can make drops and deliveries to our people in Miami, Kansas City, or wherever. Instead of a fucking pick-up truck carrying two hundred pounds, fifty bikers carrying six pounds a piece make drops over the course of a week. "

My mob lawyer hat was on. I needed to play through the motions to get what I wanted at the end.

"Could be risk involved. One of these bikers could try to rip you off, get a wild hair up his ass and decide to rip off you and his club."

"He does that he's dead," Campisi said coolly. "And not just by our people. His own people. Those biker fucks, they don't play around if you betray them."

I knew that all too well. I represented their president on a murder charge last year. One of their members was talking to the ATF. He suddenly had an accident that cut his tongue out forced it down his own throat, or at least that's what I made the jury believe.

"I think it'll work," I said with a nod. "I'm just hurt and offended I wasn't consulted on this. Blackwood is my client, after all."

"It's Paulie's show, you know he is with you. Thinks cause you're a mick you can't be trusted."

I didn't say it, but I thought that maybe Paulie was on to something. Maybe he was the only member of the Campisi Family with a bit of sense.

St. Patrick's Cathedral
Manhattan
11:20 PM

I had twenty grand in my jacket pocket when I went in St. Patrick's. The twenty grand was my cut on the deal with the Crusaders, as well as my retainer for doing the don's legal work. Going into churches always made me think about my mother. Maggie Murdock was like a ghost. I had no idea where she was, and I often wondered what she was doing if she were still alive. I thought many times over the years about hiring a PI to track her down, but always thought better of it.

The twenty grand in my jacket didn't feel that big, just two hundred one hundred dollar bills. The cash felt light enough when I took them out of my jacket and stuck them in the poor box. They say all the good Catholics tithe ten percent. I had to be a great one, I tithed a hundred percent. Before I left I asked a priest to light a candle for my mother.
Maybe it was good to never meet her. That way she could be that devout catholic woman I knew all those years ago. She could never be corrupted like my dad was. She was frozen in time as a good woman. I made a final prayer and prepared myself to go to work.

Red Hook, Brooklyn
2:14 AM

"We don't fuck with drugs," Arthur Blackwood, president of the Crusaders Motorcycle Club, said with a scowl. "No selling at all. Why the hell should we stick out neck out for you? Because you say you'll pay?"

The two mobsters looked at each other. Paulie D'agistino, the underboss of the Campisi Crime Family, rubbed his chin while Joseph Baggato "Joey Bags" stuck his hands in his pants pockets and shrugged.

"That," Joey Bags started. "And, we both know your club is going under. The days of the outlaw biker gang ain't what they used to be. You're hurting for money, the ATF busts your balls day and night about that little weapons trafficking business you got. Fact of the matter is you need this. Say yes."

Blackwood looked behind him, where three of his fellow bikers sat parked on their motorcyles in the back alley lot. Blackwood shuffled his feet and exhaled before finally nodding.

"Fine," he said. "When do you want to get started?"

"I'm surprised in you, Mister Blackwood," a voice echoed around them.

Paulie and Joey pulled pistols from their waistbands at almost the same time the Crusaders did. The two sides looked across the lot for any indication of the voice's owner.

"The hell was that?" Paulie asked, looking at Blackwood. "You trying to pull something on me?"

"Me? What about you?! You're a goddamn informant or something?!"

"Excuse me," the voice continued. "I was talking here. So rude. As I was saying, I'm surprised, Blackwood."

Out of the shadows, a red blur slammed into Joey Bags and knocked him to the ground. Both sides opened fire, Blackwood fell to the ground as bullets fired above him. The figure jumped away before the bullets could reach it. The figure swung back into the shadows and up onto the roof of the warehouse.

"I thought you were on parole," the figure said, coming into the halogen lights of the parking lot. It was the devil... or a man dressed like it. "You certainly don't look reformed to me..."

The devil man jumped from his spot and dove into the middle of the Crusaders taking them on with a pair of sticks at close range.

All-Star Marvel: Age of Heroes

I might do something with DD if nobody else is interested. I did the Daredevils in the very first ASM, I might try to do something different with the character.

The All-Star Marvel Character Repository:

Player Name: The Bogus Byrd Man

Character You Wish To Play: The one man that's the realest of the real, the one smooth brother that makes all the women squeal. I'm talking about the baddest mofo that ever fought with righteous rage: The Harlem crusader Luke Cage

Moral Alignment: Hero, ya dig?

Affiliation: Cage ain't the type of brother to be attached to anyone's hip bone. When it comes to teams, he works alone.

Character Origin & Backstory:

The story of Luke Cage can be told in verse. The early days are when his life went from bad to worse. Carl Lucas, a would be gangster working around Harlem town, working as a strongarm lackey to that Willis Styrker clown. Styrker had Harlem tight in his grasp, strangling the community with his criminal clasp. Young Luke fell for Lenore, Stryker's sweetheart. Styrker went mad with jealousy, his sanity fell apart. One day Carl was headed home when he got stopped, ya dig? It was two NYPD uniforms and a detective pig. They ran Carl in because an eyeball witness, the man said Carl was around a murder scene the night before and acting suspicious. Carl's fingerprints matched the ones on a piece, so he was arrested for murder by the police. A swift trial commenced, so fast you couldn't blink. The end result was predictable, Carl sentenced to life in the clink. Carl's heart was tortured, his spirit maimed. He knew that he was framed.

Ten years in the slammer seemed to rapidly pass, all the while outside Stryker's kingdom gained mass. Losing hope on getting out and his prospects dim, Carl decided to volunteer for a project most grim. An experiment to create the durability of a famous super-soilder ended in disaster thanks to an evil poacher. Carl lay in a science chamber, his body resting, when a vindictive guard broke in to where they were testing. The guard smashed the console and dial. The chamber began sparking, its insides filling with bile. A massive explosion rocked the prison then, a force that was like a keg of dynamite times ten. The guard, the doctor, and the whole experiment were lost in the detonation, nothing could survive that great conflagration.

Out of the fiery rubble and debris a lone figure came crawling. It was a naked Carl Lucas who ran, his own ass he was hauling. He ran into the woods to avoid any guards. Through some odd happenstance he was now out behind bars. What's more his whole body seemed unreal. The explosion hadn't hurt him, his body tougher than steel. With new powers at his command and ten years spent spurned, he set his sights for Harlem and home he did return.

Once home he started a crusade for payback, Willis Stryker and his criminal rackets were prime for attack. A new life and fresh start he had acquired. Carl Lucas was dead, believed perished in that fire. Soon after coming home he sought out his former love Lenore. He was shattered when he discovered she was no more. She had died six years back, overdosing from mainlining pure smack. He made a promise that day, for letting her die Stryker would pay. Adopting the alias Luke Cage, he tore up Harlem fueled by his powers and rage. It didn't take long for Stryker to get mad. He put out a million dollar hit for Luke Cage, man he wanted that brother reaaal bad. Cage tore trough Styrker's men like butter, setting the residents of Harlem's hearts aflutter. For a long time now they had needed a defender to help them thrive, but Cage didn't want none of that jive! He wasn't a hero to speak for the masses, he just wanted to kick Styrker and his men's asses.

Cage dispatched Styrker's men at their nightclub without breaking a sweat. They were the bad mothers, but to him they proved to be no threat. Cage finally set his sights on Styrker, that villain. The two fought each other, both intent on killin'. Stryker tried his best to fight off his former friend, but the steel skinned man was too much to defend. Desperate to kill and half crazed, Stryker decided to kill both he and Cage in a massive blaze. Up went his nightclub in a red hot spire. Nobody was getting out of that fire. If you think that's the end of this story and Cage is dead, then what the hell's wrong with your head? Out of the fire came Cage choking, unharmed and unhurt but his body smoking. While he came out of the fire okay, Stryker had been consumed in the infero's fray.

Gathered around the blazing hulk were the people of Harlem so grateful, they were glad to be rid of the crime boss that was so hateful. In the embers of the building Cage watched it burn, while a feeling inside him did churn. His vengeance was complete now that Stryker had died, but he still felt hollow and empty inside. That day Cage made a solemn vow, he would change his life and his ways somehow. From that day forward he decided to work for the people as best he could, writing wrongs and injustices in the 'hood. If you need help and your situation is dire, then you can always call Luke Cage: Hero for Hire.

Powers and Abilities (What can you're character do? What can't they do?): Cage has street hero level super strength and steel-hardened skin

Sample Post:

Harlem, Manhattan
9:22 PM

Greasy moo goo gai pan was my dinner that night. Red Dragon's on West 131st Street near the playground. Mr. Hsu always made a new batch of it whenever I walked in, thanks for helping him out a few months ago when I stopped a would-be blackmailer from trying to extort Hsu. Turns out the old man was in America illegally after he jumped ship on a barge in San Diego thirty years ago. A little flexing of my muscle and the blackmailer stepped off and handed over what he had on Hsu. The old man to his credit turned himself over to immigration who decided he'd been in the country to long to deport. Also didn't hurt that he was the rare illegal that paid taxes. For helping him out I get half off moo goo gai pan and get to make eyes at Hsu's hot daughter while she works the register.

There was a pretty steady rain outside that night. That's usually good news for everyone. Rain means the gangbangers are too scared to go out, lest they get their sneakers dirty, and the cops aren't up to getting out of their cruisers unless they really need to so they avoid banging people up on the small fry stuff that really pisses off communities. My previous observation was contradicted almost at once. Two NYPD patrol cars with rooftop lights flashing sped by the restaurant. Like I said, the rain is usually good news but not always.

Joannie Hsu rung my meal up without giving me her number once again. That's alright, I'd ask again when I'm back in a week. I walked out into the rain and pulled my yellow hoodie up over my head. There weren't many people on the street, but the few that were all headed in the same direction: down the street and around the corner. The corner blocked the sight, but I could see the blue and red flash of police lights reflecting off the buildings.

A few minutes later and I stood in front of police tape. My hood kept my head dry against the slow pitter patter of rain. The crime scene was at the playground just around the corner from the Red Dragon. Two uniformed cops kept the small crowd gathering back from the scene, but everyone could see through them to the white tarp covering a dead body sprawled out in a sandbox. There were murmurs and talk rippling through the crowd. I didn't take part, but I listened and got the gist. The body under the tarp was Bobbito Garcia, seventeen years old and a nearby resident. Someone said he had his girlfriend with him when he got shot, someone said they heard the shots and turned around to see Bobbito falling to the ground and an unknown shooter running from the scene.

A detective in a cheap suit walked trough the crowd, flashing a badge. I started to fade back into the crowd to avoid being seen. The less police attention I attracted, the better. From my vantage point I could see the crime scene and the few places the officers had protected from the rain. Bobbito's body was covered, as was a small space I assumed covered up the murder weapon. A plastic baggie lay on the ground with a small card inside. I couldn't make out the words scribbled on the card, but I saw the logo in the middle of the card as clear as day. A bright red crown, dripping blood.

Who murders a seventeen year old kid execution style and leaves a calling card?

I didn't know, but I was going to find out.

All-Star Marvel: Age of Heroes

Rade said
Potential weird thought, but I was thinking. Byrd, have you ever considered running Bruce Banner? With your penchant for interwoven, mystery-like tales, I think you could put an entertaining spin on the man. I was wondering who could play the members of the Avengers well, and the idea of Banner, helmed by you, venturing across the country and/or world in search of a way to control the beast inside of him could lead to some great conspiracy thriller like stories. Return the focus back away from the Hulk smash stories of recent years. Something like the classic 70's TV program.

I've thought about it several times over the years, I just never seem to be able work up the motivation or have a good enough spin on the character to seriously consider it.

All-Star Marvel: Age of Heroes

I'll probably try another crack with the character, keep the same backstory and go forward. Plus, I spent nearly two hours making that character sheet rhyme, so I don't want to let that go to waste.

All-Star Marvel: Age of Heroes

My two Punisher posts have been voided.

All-Star Marvel: Age of Heroes

Always a glutton for self-punishment, I may -- may-- try to do something. No promises.

The Executive Branch - An Alternate History Action & Adventure RP

Not compared to Abraham Lincoln or George Washington.

Saloon City -- A Rural Noir RP

John couldn't help but let a goofy smile escape his lips when he saw Kitty waving back. He waved back and watched Kitty disappear over the hill that led back into town. He laughed and sat taller in the saddle while he picked the drying mud from his coat and shirt. John squeezed his horse with his thighs and started trotting back down the road. He knew exactly what his uncle and brothers and sisters would say if he started courting Kitty Avett, but he knew exactly where they could all go if they had any problems with it.

--

Luke Norman kept his foot on the accelerator as the truck bounced down the dirt road towards Pickett. The green truck was a rust bucket he and Mark had to work on nearly every other day to keep it running, but it was fast when it needed to be. To the outside world it appeared to be the truck they used to make store deliveries in, even now the back of the bed was loaded down with boxes filled with groceries and other sundry goods. But underneath the boxes was a false bottom that had their crates of 'shine. A baker's dozen of jugs all to be sold to Coochiebug. Coochiebug owned the Slab House, a juke joint on the outskirts of town near the old man's old place. Like Harry's, the Slab House closed its doors when the Volstead Act went into effect. But just because the Slab House was closed didn't mean Coochiebug went out of business. Between the Coochiebug keeping the whites in Pickett wet and Theo Tatum doing the same for the coloreds, it was like prohibition didn't exist.

Pickett was nicknamed Saloon City for a reason, Luke thought to himself when the town came into site around the corner. And there wasn't anything the government or law could do to change it. It was just the natural order of things, he reckoned. And who was he to change that? Especially if he could get paid well for not changing it. Luke slowed down as he entered the town limits and cruised through the city streets with a cocky grin on his face.

The Executive Branch - An Alternate History Action & Adventure RP

I don't know. I'm inclined to say no, since I kind of want to keep it restricted to historical figures and not venture into pop culture icons. The game is pretty broad enough without going down those paths, but I won't flat out say no just yet.