Byrd Man

Colonial

Name: Dr. Peadar Browning Age: 36 Appearance: Browning is a very fragile man, standing at a diminutive height of 5’4 and barely weighing above 120 pounds. His long hair is black with streaks of white. He wears a collection of suits that were once fine, but are now tattered and stained due to the conditions since his exile. Along with his clothing, he has a small bag with medical supplies. Bio: Dr. Peadar Browning was born into one of Tirna-Sorset’s upper middle class family, a family of social strivers. Peadar was taught how to read and write at an early age and soon amassed an impressive library that contained everything from plays, treatises, works of fiction, and political tracts. He had dreams of one day becoming a writer, but he was pushed by his father to practice medicine. He acquiesced to his father’s wishes, but continued to write on the side as he studied. Under the pseudonym of E.G. Rathais, Peadar published the best-selling adventure serial The Bowrocker. Further successful Rathais works followed. There was the sweeping epic A Kinsman's Journey, the romantic and bawdy Tales of a Country Wench, and the runaway successful novel The Life of Callum Creag that was published in several languages across the world. While the name Rathais became an international celebrity, it didn't provide much future so Dr. Peadar Browning quietly continued to practice medicine by day and write at night. Among his closest patients were a duke and his wife. The duke and duchess were part of a small group of nobles who were beginning to grow disenchanted with Aenda’s regency. They invited Browning to meetings where they discussed the rights of nobility, the aristocracy, and who should rule. Motivated by these discussions, Browning wrote a series of essays under the pen name Publius, the essays were titled Thoughts on Constitutional Monarchy. The works called for making the royal family powerless figureheads while a governing council made up of the nobles ran the country with evenly divided power. The duke and duchess provided the seed money for publishing. The essays, published during the height of Aenda’s war with the gentry, sent shockwaves through the nation. The followup pamphlet Thoughts on Self-Determination was even more radical and callied for a mixed government of nobles and commoners elected directly by the kingdom's land owners. After the brief civil war's end the duke and duchess were arrested by the army. Under duress they confessed that Browning was Publius. The good doctor was arrested and served six agonizing months in a dungeon before he was shoved on a ship and sent across the water to Uponhill. Browning was party to the hellacious first year the colony suffered. Like the rest of the town he suffered disease and starvation. As a doctor, he did what he could for those in need of his help. Those he could not help he helped bury. The first year is now over and Browning, emaciated and constantly sick due to his weak constitution, serves as just one of two doctors the town has. He helps the people of the colony where and when he can. In his free time he continues to secretly write political tracts that concern the radical ideas of self-governance hoping to one day find an audience that is ready for his ideas.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Yeah, you should.

All-Star Marvel: Audax Mundus Novus - Season 1 (Completed)

Mood Music Player Name: Byrd Man Character You Wish To Play: Rachel Cole-Alves Moral Alignment: WTL Affiliation: None at the moment. Formerly, Marine Forces Recon and the Central Intelligence Agency Character Origin & Backstory: Before there was Rachel, there was Frank Castle. November 12th, 1950: Francis Castle is born in Queens August 10th, 1964: Congress passes the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, allowing president Lyndon Johnson to use conventional military force to stop the Communist insurgency in South Vietnam. July 28th, 1965: Johnson pledges to send nearly four hundred thousand troops to Vietnam, tripling the US commitment to fight the Viet Cong. January 30th, 1968: Anti-Communist forces launch the Tet Offensive, pouring men and resources into the area and sending the conflict in Vietnam from police action to full-on war. November 12th, 1968: Frank Castle enlists in the US Marine Corps September 2nd, 1969: Sergeant Frank Castle ships out to join the 1st Marine Division as a platoon sergeant December 25th, 1969: The Christmas Day Massacre near Đắk Glei wipes out half of Castle's platoon. He kills over two dozen attacking VC with an M60 machine gun. Castle is awarded medals for bravery and recruited for Special Forces work. January 1st, 1970 - April 30th, 1974: HISTORY REDACTED AT THE REQUEST OF USMC FORCE RECONNAISSANCE May 1st, 1974: Granted a battlefield commission to 1st Lieutenant, Frank Castle is honorably discharged from the USMC and sent home. June 2nd, 1975: Frank Castle marries Maria Castle. March 24th, 1976: Lisa Castle is born. August 17th, 1978: Francis Castle Jr. is born. July 7th, 1980: Maria, Lisa, and Frank Castle Jr. are all murdered, caught in a cross-fire at Central Park between mobsters. Severely wounded, Frank survives. December 18th, 1981: After two mistrials and numerous accusations of jury tampering, Jimmy Rizzo and Carlo Andolini, the two Scargetti Crime Family hitmen who killed Castle's family, are found not guilty by a jury of their peers. The same day Frank Castle leaves his family home for the last time. December 20th, 1981: Jimmy Rizzo and Carolo Andolini are found dead, their bodies tortured and mutilated. December 22nd, 1981 - March 17th, 1982: Fifty-two made men and associates of the Scargetti Family are brutally murdered by an unknown assailant. March 18th, 1982: Fearing for his life and safety, Dominic Scargetti turns himself over to members of the FBI and confess to numerous racketeering and conspiracy charges. He receives life in prison. March 28th, 1982: Frank Castle mails a letter to the Daily Bugle with explicit photos of Scargetti Family members shortly before their murders. In the letter, Castle claims that the men killed were the first casualties in a new war on crime he is waging. Not as Frank Castle, but as The Punisher. 1982-2002: Using his military background and money from murdered criminals, Frank Castle wages his one man war with the criminal syndicates in America. Over a twenty year span, he kills at least a thousand men in thirty states in addition to another two hundred speculated murders around the US and abroad. Until September 11th, he is first on the FBI's Most Wanted List. June 6th, 1984: Rachel Cole is born in Brooklyn September 30th, 2002: Rachel Cole enlists in the US Marines Corps. January 12th, 2003: The last known kill by the Punisher is recorded in Philadelphia, PA. 2003 - 2007: Gunnery Sergeant Cole serves with the USMC in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Cole is recrutied into the Marine Corps Forces Reconnaissance. 2007 - 2009: HISTORY REDACTED AT THE REQUEST OF USMC FORCE RECONNAISSANCE February 13th, 2009: Cole is honorably discharged from the USMC February 15th, 2009: Cole is hired by the Central Intelligence Agency as a "Security Advisor" 2009 - 2012: HISTORY REDACTED AT CIA REQUEST November 11th, 2012:Cole returns to New York City and finds employment as a cable TV installer. February 14th, 2013: Cole becomes engaged to marry Dr. Daniel Alves, a Brooklyn based dentist. October 5th, 2014: 13 members of the Cole-Alves wedding party are gunned down at their reception by unknown assailants. The members of the wedding party are thought to have been unfortunate bystanders caught in the crossfire between the attackers and the men they were chasing. Among those killed include the groom Daniel Alves and mother of the bride Jessica Cole. Rachel Cole is wounded and rushed to surgery where she recovers. November 16th, 2014: Rachel Cole-Alves is discharged from the hospital. At the same time, three associate members of the Brutenilli Crime Family are gunned down in the Bronx. The three dead men match eyewitness descriptions of three of the shooters involved in the Cole-Alves wedding massacre. November 18th, 2014: Sixty-four year old Frank Castle emerges from seclusion and contacts Rachel Cole-Alves at her home. November 20th, 2014 - December 7th, 2014: The entire Brutenilli Crime Family are executed by persons unknown. Joseph Martinzio, the boss of the family, is found stabbed to death and wearing a bloody wedding dress. December 19th, 2014: A fire breaks out at the Federal Maximum Security Penitentiary in Fishkill, NY. While the men are being escorted to safety, a man disguised as a corrections officer stabs the now ninety year old Dominic Scargetti to death with a rusty shiv. Inside the dead Don's pocket is a faded photo of Frank Castle in his family. December 23rd, 2014: A dead body is discovered on the streets of the Bronx. It is positively identified as Frank Castle. An autopsy reveals that the man died of liver cancer that had metastasized years earlier and eaten at nearly every major organ in his body. Pathologist determine that he lived nearly ten years with the cancer and ignored the intense pain. January 1st, 2015: Fredo Lopes, a Spanish Harlem pimp suspected of killing two prostitutes, is gunned down in cold-blood by an unknown gunman. Carved into the dead man's forehead is a skull. A letter to the Daily Bugle and published the next day claim responsibility for the murder. The death was not justice: it was punishment. Frank Castle is dead, but his legacy lives on. Powers and Abilities: No powers, but Rachel is a former Marine and is an expert soldier with a training in a variety of forms of conventional and unconventional warfare and hand to hand combat. In addition to that, she has access to the money and guns Frank Castle had confiscated over a lifetime of waging his war on crime. Sample Story Arcs: Give 2-3 ideas on where you want to go with your character: The Boston Massacre: Rachel experiences growing pains in her new role as the Punisher. In Boston she goes toe to toe with the Irish Mob and their gun-running enterprise. City of Angels: Following the trail of gun-smuggling, Rachel finds herself in Los Angeles and has to protect an LAPD office who finds himself in over his head when a simple traffic stop becomes something much more complicated. Mission Creep: The Company has gotten wind of Rachel's activities and come calling. A figure from her past returns, hellbent on getting her under his boot no matter the collateral damage. Sample Post: La Araña Discoteca Spanish Harlem "The hell do you want, puta?" The bouncer outside the nightclub didn't have time to get his answer. A powerful fist struck him in the face and drove him to the ground. The bouncer looked up, his sunglasses astray, and right into the blade of a butterfly knife. The clubgoers standing outside watched on in shock. "Carlos Fring," Rachel said, placing the blade of the knife under the bouncer's eye. "Fuck off!" The large man yelled. "Wrong answer." Rachel raked the blade up the bouncer's face. The bystanders recoiled and horror and began to scatter. "Ahhh!" The bouncer screamed. He held his bloody face with both hands. "He's in the back office!" Rachel flicked the blade back into its handles and slid the knife back into the holster strapped to her thigh. She stepped over the bleeding bouncer and into the club, a sawed-off shotgun hidden under her coat. Strobe lights flashed and heavy, techo music blasted out the club's speakers. She navigated through the jumping and bumping throng of people towards the club's back offices. A few hundred feet away, Carlos Fring sat at the desk in the club's backroom. He had his pants around his ankles and a woman's face buried into his crotch. While Carlos "relaxed", twin brothers Rob and Roy James were busy at a folding table in front of the desk. They were counting and weighing the half dozen bricks of cocaine and marijuana that were stacked on the table. "This all?" Roy asked. "This ain't nothing." "Times are tough," Carlos said as he titled his head back and closed his eyes. "In a few more weeks we will have a full shipment. Relax. For now, get your people to...," Carlos lost his train of thought as the woman between his legs rolled her tongue. "... Just, business as usual. Smaller supply, cut it more." On the main dance floor, Rachel started to climb up a flight of stairs when a pair of powerful hands grabbed her by the shoulders. She spun around and was brought face to face with a large, Latino man in a dark suit. He tried to shout over the music, but couldn't be heard. While he was shouting, Rachel leveled the shotgun at the man's stomach. The gun kicked in her hands and knocked the man back. The sound of the music masked the shotgun blast. The dying man tumbled down the stairs and came to a stop on the bottom step. One gyrating young girl saw the dead body and screamed before running towards the exit. Rachel racked another round into the shotgun and turned around, quickly climbing the steps. Another guard was waiting at the top of the stairwell. Before the man could react, Rachel brought the butt of the shotgun up into his face. She drove the cartilage from the man's nose up and into his head, puncturing the brain stem. The guard collapsed to the ground, spasming from the brain injury that would kill him in a few seconds. Rachel calmly walked down the hall leading towards the backroom. She was almost there when a black man jumped out and knocked the shotgun from her hands. The man drove Rachel into the corridor's wall and slammed up against her. The guard pummeled her with blows to the face. Rachel shook off the blows and headbutted the man in the face. The guard stumbled backwards and Rachel whipped out her knife, flicking the blade open as the guard charged. She took a glancing blow to the shoulder, but managed to drive the blade of his knife into the side of the man's neck. He cried out and fell to his side. Rachel loomed over him, her face bloody and bruised, and kicked the hilt of the knife further into the man's neck. He went to scream, but blood bubbled out of his mouth and ran out on the floor. Rachel picked up her shotgun and kicked in the office door. Rob and Roy James looked up just in time to be hit with a blast of pellets. The twin brothers fell to the ground, their heads and chests covered in blood and buckshot. Carlos cried out in pain from behind the desk. The sudden shock of the gun had caused the woman between his legs to bite down. "Crazy bitch!" Carlos yelled. He rolled back and the woman underneath the desk popped up, blood and chunks of flesh coated her mouth. "You bit it off! ¡Oh, Dios. Me voy a morir! Maldita perra." "Go," Rachel said, looking at the woman. She scurried off and Frank walked over to Carlos. The gangster held on to his bloody crotch and moaned. Rachel looked down at the bloody member laying on the floor. "I guess it's true what they say about men with little feet... I had planned to shoot you, but I think this is worse." She kneed Fring in his crotch. "¡Dios mío," the man howled in pain and dry heaved. Rachel grabbed Fring by his shoulders and bent down. "Now that I have your attention, you're going to deliver a message to Don Eladio... He's next."

Colonial

*quietly deletes Robo-Hitler proposal*

Colonial

Interested.

Dead World: Rise of Nations

Throwing this up here. I'll add it to the character tab if I get approval. - Nation's Name: Deutschland -Leader's/Government's Name: Caleb Yoder Yoder and two other elders are representatives for the community appointed by the population to serve their interest. Like the old New England Town Meeting form of government, the population as a whole vote on decisions while the Elders carry out their wishes. -Territory: Western Pennsylvania -Description of Technology: Like the past hundreds of years, Deutschland has very little technology outside of the recently acquired guns, gas masks, and medicine that the people have scavenged from nearby cities, or traded for with the English. They get by on manual labor and literal horsepower. -Description of Society- Deutschland is the remnants of the Pennsylvania Dutch, the Amish community in the state. While the world collapsed around them, they banded together and became even more insular, shunning the English and the wickedness that had allowed the world to end. Unfortunately, the outside world came calling in the form of raiders who stole their food and people, and the infected who wiped out their strong population. The once passive people now saw the need to protect themselves, they needed to adopt a few ways of the English to survive. They now highly militant and even more standoffish with the rest of the world. They trade with nearby communities, but will not allow outsiders inside their lands. Led by Caleb Yoder as First Elder, Deutschland continues to rebuild and grow stronger. - Population – 4,621 -Industries: The Amish have reputations as skilled craftsman. They are experts in subjects ranging from carpentry and smithing to baking and sewing. In addition, they are well adept at farming and have a steady supply of food that they grow for consumption and trade.

War of Seven Suns: Fleet Action (Sci Fi Naval RP)

Mark me down as interested.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Mexico City “This is what happens when people don’t fucking listen to advice,” Secretary of State Lillian Mather growled into the speakerphone. On the other end of the line was the White House. Gathered around the phone were President Norman, Vice President Reed, Secretary of Defense Dalton, and White House chief of staff Rob Brewer. Lillian and her staff were on day three of a weeklong trip in Mexico, easing tensions with the Mexican socialist government and soothing their displeasure at the US’s pivot back towards a conservative government. Now she paced around her hotel suite and smoked while she reread the diplomatic cable Sotelo wired to the White House. The fact that Sotelo bypassed the usual diplomatic channels was reason enough for Lillian to be irked, but the fact that this mess was avoidable was ten times worse. “Madam Secretary,” said the president. “First off, that language is unbecoming. Second, my remarks on Ethiopia were reviewed by you and you gave the go ahead.” “You left in the one part I said to remove. The colonialist aggression comment, Mr. President, was way too harsh. Rhetoric like that may work in the military, but in diplomacy you need a much softer touch.” “Duly noted,” Norman said in a dry tone. “Regardless of what we say here, the American people were in favor of it,” Brewer said emphatically. “Recent polling data shows that they loved the speech. They still remember how Spain ran over us in the last war, they want to see us stand tough against them.” Lillian stubbed her cigarette out in an ashtray and fumed. Brewer was the numbers nerd and fed the president’s constant need for data. Diplomacy was not a science, it wasn't something that could be put in a little box in a spreadsheet and put into a fucking histogram. “Words are one thing,” said Dalton. “But they don’t mean anything without something to back up. That’s what Roosevelt meant by the big stick. If you will pardon my paraphrasing that saying but: military talks, bullshit walks.” “Where are we overall with the military, Mr. Secretary?” Reed asked. “We are a lot stronger than we were in the last war, but we’re still in the upper echelon of the also-rans of the world. If Spain tried something they’d see that we’re sure as hell not the same country they fought, but we aren’t China by any means.” “That was why we need China in our corner,” Lillian said after lighting up another cigarette. “Bismarckian Diplomacy 101: Be prepared to back your shit talking up. If this is a world where there are three world powers, at most, you need at least your side if you’re going to pull something like this, and Ethiopia has been cool to us at best.” “Are you done?” Norman asked. “I’m not hearing a solution in all this. From the way I’m hearing complaints I thought for a minute you two were part of the GOP, crucifying me up on the Hill.” “You picked all of us for a reason, Mr. President,” said Reed. “We know what we’re talking about.” “If you wanted ass kissers, you should have stayed in the army,” Lillian grunted before changing gears. “The simplest answer is there is no clear solution to this. Backing down makes us look weak, something I know you do not want us to been seen as. Ignoring Spain could risk conflict. You’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” “On the flip side,” said Dalton. “I don’t think Spain can commit a major military force to fight us and continue with their full-on assault into Ethiopia at the same time. They can still send a sizable naval force to give us an asskicking, but I don't foresee any major ground troops if it gets to that. They've got control of the Suez now, and operations in Africa are moving inland. They need every boot they can get on the ground.” “Don't forget about the spin,” said Reed. “Spain attacks the US for providing food to starving Africans. They can classify it as war supplies all they like; we still come out looking good. I’ll level with you here, Mr. President; the American people do not give a damn about the people from Africa, but the enemy of my enemy and all that shit.” “We’ll move forward,” the president said after a long pause. “We will respectfully decline Spain’s proposal for a joint relief mission. We can argue that allowing Spain to monitor our relief effort can set up a problem similar to what they’re accusing us with repurposed humanitarian supplies going towards Spanish troops instead of the people who need it. I can step back and apologize for the harsh words, but I will not stand down for trying to help people in need. An expanded American global presence is what I campaigned on, and it’s something I honestly believe will lead to less foreign threats. I had to fight two wars on American soil as a soldier. I don’t want to see a third war while I’m commander in chief.” Then why the fuck are you dragging us into one? That was what Lillian wanted to say. Instead she exhaled a long cloud of smoke and placed her hand on the phone. “I’ll start working on an official response with my team. I say we work on a draft while you all work on one and we’ll piece the statement together from the two.” “Very good,” said Norman. “After this, Secretary Dalton and I will talk to the Joint Chiefs. I want the Navy to scrap that training exercise they had planned and go on high alert all down the Eastern Seaboard just in case. Madam Secretary, I will make sure this time to follow your advice.” “That’s all that I ask,” she sighed. “Goodbye, expect a cable in the next few hours.” She hung up the conference call and reclined backwards in her chair. Just a few months in office and this country was already on the verge of fucking war. That’s what happens when you elect a soldier boy as president. She should have ran for president, but that would have required the voters in America to get over their fear of a woman with power. Oh, well. There was always '88. Lillian finished off the last of her cigarette, stubbed it out, and hurried out the room to find her entourage. They had work to do. Atlantic Ocean Ninety Miles Southeast of Baltimore Captain Andrew Lopez stood on the bridge of the USS Rangerand looked out across the water. Ranger was the latest aircraft carrier launched by the Navy as part of its effort to beef up US military strength. She was named after the eighteen gun sloop John Paul Jones terrorized the Royal Navy with during the Revolutionary War. Top of the line, Ranger served as Admiral Boyce’s flagship in the ten ship large Third Carrier Taskforce. Lopez was technically commander of the ship, but since Boyce hoisted his three star flag here he called the shots. In the sixth months since entering service Ranger had stayed in the Northeast as a show of force to the Canadians. At the moment she was headed south towards Key West for training maneuvers with the rest of the Atlantic Fleet. After the choppy winter waters of the North Atlantic, the sailors aboard were anxious to kick off the summer in a warmer climate. Lopez was looking forward to some time in Florida as well. He was a fourth-generation Cuban American born in Florida and raised there before he joined the Navy. The last time he saw his home state was back during the war when he was part of a flotilla of destroyers that shelled a fort outside St. Petersburg into rubble. Lopez’s musings on Florida were quickly cut short when the bridge phone rang. “Lopez,” Admiral Boyce grumbled. “Admiral,” said Lopez. “Hate to do this to you boys, but we’ve got a change in plans. Atlantic Fleet Command just wired us new orders. We are to rendezvous with Sixth Taskforce north of New York with forthcoming orders once we’re there.” “What’s going on?” Lopez asked. The Sixth was part of the scheduled naval maneuvers as well. “No idea, Captain. Fleet Command giveth, Fleet Command taketh away. I’m sending Commander Brinkley up to the bridge with the coordinates for the rendezvous. I want the entire taskforce turned around and on the way within the hour.” Lopez acknowledged the admiral’s orders and hung up the phone. He sighed and looked over at the radioman on the bridge. “Sorry, Porter, but it looks like we won’t be hitting up South Beach. Open up the ship wide line so I can give the ship the bad news.” ---- Alfonso Grijalba Sotelo, Prime Minister of the Second Spanish Republic Mr. Prime Minister, Let me start off by giving thanks to you for your warm words of congratulations. I have received many letters of thanks since my election as president, but none so powerful as yours. It is my sincere hope to turn our country back into the once noble republic it was. Secondly, I apologize for the heated rhetoric I used in my address to Congress. The remarks delivered about Spain were improvised and said in the heat of the moment. I see Spain as a valuable figure in the continued rebirth of democratic ideals in this world. Finally, I regret to inform you that I must turn down your offer for joint humanitarian aid to Africa. Your concerns of civilian relief being co-opted by Ethiopian soldiers represents a major concern for this administration, but we see a potential scenario of Spanish forces commandeering our supplies for their own use. I instead offer assurances, assurances backed by readily available shipping manifests for those who wish to see it, that only food, medicine, and blankets will be sent to the civilian populace who will be in dire need of it as this war further escalates. It is my sincerest hope that this not escalate into hostilities between our two nations, that both our nations can act as beacons of hope and rationality in a world where both commodities are in short supply. Yours, Michael Norman, President of the United States of America

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

"American chooses to exterminate the indigenous people of the Alpha Centauri system not because it is easy, but because it is hard."