Byrd Man

Absolute Comics: A Brave New World

When are you going to let us post?

Absolute Comics: A Brave New World

Parker

^{“I'm only the messenger!"
"Now you're the message", Parker told him and shot him.}

^{Unknown ♦ 5/5/1975 ( 42) ♦ Male ♦ Neutral Evil}

C O N C E P T A B S T R A C T:

I essentially want to tell heist/hard boiled crime stories within the confines of the universe. Parker is a perfect conduit for that, a travelling thief who can interact with many characters in the game. I know I have one story arc I'd like to do involving Gotham and Catwoman, another and the Flash rogues in Central City.

N O T E S:

I guess just so say that I'm going to be playing a lean character with a lean supporting cast so I'm open to interaction

And because I had to... a post sample, originally written as a Parker post before Guildfall:

Strangers in the Night

Central New Jersey
2:12 AM

Tracy Lawless was mad as hell.

He drove down the freeway in the middle of the night, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds for any new cars that may have appeared behind him. He saw the two big duffle bags in the mirror, each one stuffed to the brim with cash. Tracy wore a coat that hid the body armor strapped to his chest. Dried blood was caked on his hands. It wasn't his blood. He fumed and kept the hunk of junk he was driving at seventy. His Charger was back in the city. It was too conspicuous to be used as a getaway car today.

The radio in the car played some god awful country music. He reached over and cruised up and down the dial until he found a talk radio show giving the news.

"One man is still at large after today's daring daytime bank robbery of the 5th Avenue Chase Bank. Masked and armed with automatic weapons, the five men came in during the lunchtime hour and made off with over nine hundred thousand dollars in twenties, fifties, and hundreds. Police soon arrived on the scene and gun battle took place, killing four of the robbers before the fifth masked man took off with the money through midtown, where he lost pursuing police in a high-speed chase."

Tracy listened to the rest of the news story with half-concentration. There were no leads on his whereabouts, and so far they hadn't publically identified the rest of his crew. Everyone but him was dead, gunned down by the cops. One of them blew Jack Legs' brains out before the guy could even move. Blood had spattered Tracy's chest and arms. They showed up way too fast for Tracy's taste. They were promised more time to get the money and get out there, but they didn't get that time. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Tommy the Cork. Goddamn Tommy the Cork had sold them out, the son of a *****. He'd given his word they would have at least five minutes before the police arrived. The fat bastard must have gotten greedy and double-crossed them. The odds on Tommy being there at the farmhouse waiting was too unlikely. Tracy was the only one left alive and he had the money. He was too big of a loose end, and no way cops would be there for an arrest. Tommy wanted that money all to himself.

An hour later he turned off the freeway and headed down a Southern Jersey highway towards the established rendezvous point. He could just keep going. He had the money, for Christ sake. But he didn't want to do that. He wanted to pay Tommy back for what he had done, the bastard.

Tracy started to slow the junk heap down as the farmhouse got nearer. The time for the meeting was supposed to be four AM, an hour from now, but he was sure Tommy was already hiding somewhere in the dilapidated barn. Tracy pulled to the side of the road twenty miles from the farm and got out. He lugged the two duffle bags filled with cash into the woods beside the road and left them there. He got a tire iron out of the trunk and placed it in the ground beside the highway, marking the place for his return trip, and got back in the car. A half hour later he came to an old and rotting farmhouse and barn. He pulled into the driveway and slowly pulled up to the old barn.

A parked sedan was waiting beside the barn. The windows were rolled down, and Tracy could hear a golden oldies station playing Tommy James and the Shondells. Tracy reached into his jacket and got out the submachine gun he'd used at the bank. Keeping it low, he stepped out the car and approached the parked car.

"Not so fast," a voice said from behind.

He felt a hard something in his back. A pudgy hand slapped the submachine gun from his hand and spun Tracy around. He looked into the fat and gloating face of NYPD Inspector Thomas Corcoran, head of the department's prestigious Special Robbery Unit. He was also supposed to be their inside man in the bank robbery. His job was to get them plans and details about the bank and surrounding area and provide them protection from the cops. He had done the first part well, but failed spectacularly in the second regard.

"You sold us out," Tracy said calmly.

"I just did some simple math," Corcoran said with a large grin. "This money divides up better one way than six. That is, after I give the Kingpin his cut."

"And you'll think he'll just abide you double-crossing us like this?"

"I'll tell him you pulled the double-cross. Tried to skip out with the money after it went sideways. I caught you in the nick of time, though, but see you fought back and I had to kill you. Damn shame. It's a stupid move, but you're a Lawless, kid. Stupid is your middle name."

Tracy felt white-hot rage at the last part. It was all he could do right now to not try to fight Corcoran, even with the gun aimed at him. Instead, Tracy kept his hands up as Corcoran backed away from him and shuffled towards the junk heap. Tracy stayed as still as he could while the fat man looked through the back of the car for the cash.

"Where is it, Lawless?!"

"In the trunk. I got the key right here."

Corcoran stared at him through the dark and started towards him. Just then, Frank Sinatra came on the radio and crooned.

"Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wondering in the night what were the chances,
We'd be sharing love before the night was through?"

Corcoran began to rifle through Tracy's jacket pockets and found no keys. The cop started in through Tracy's pants pockets. He dropped the gun a few inches, focusing on getting the car keys from Tracy's jeans.

"Something in your eyes was so inviting
Something in you smile was so exciting
Something in my heart told me I must have you."

Snarling like a wild animal, Tracy struck and slapped at Corocran's gun. The piece went off twice, bullets snapping by Tracy's ear as they whizzed into the air. The gun fell to the ground with a dull thud. Corcoran tried to reach for it, but he was short and fat, a good six inches shorter and fifty pounds heavier than Tracy. He proved no match for Tracy's strong grip. He hit the cop upside the head with a glancing blow to the skull. Corcoran stumbled back and Tracy hit him with a right hook that knocked him to the ground. Tracy pinned him to the ground with his knees and held him close, his big hands wrapping around Tommy's fat neck.

"Strangers in the night, two lonely people
We were strangers in the night.
Up to the moment when we said our first hello, little did we know
Love was just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away"

Tommy fought and tried to get his hands underneath Tracy's. He struggled and thrashed, tried to claw at Tracy's eyes and mouth. The more he struggled, the more oxygen he burned through and made his death that quicker. Tracy throttled Corcoran's neck for a solid ten minutes, so long that he left rub burns from twisting his big hands around the windpipe. He made sure that there was no life left in the man at all. For what the bastard had done to his crew, it was the least he could do.

"Ever since that night we've been together
Lovers at first sight, in love forever
It turned out so right for strangers in the night."

Tracy took Corcoran's corpse and locked it in the trunk of his car, parking the sedan inside the rotten barn before he got into his own car and drove back to where he had the money stashed. He got the two big duffle bags out the woods, took the tire iron marker, and kept going south so he could find a place to lay low for the next few weeks.

Absolute Comics: A Brave New World

Parker

^{“I'm only the messenger!"
"Now you're the message", Parker told him and shot him.}

^{Unknown ♦ 5/5/1975 ( 42) ♦ Male ♦ Neutral Evil}

C O N C E P T A B S T R A C T:

I essentially want to tell heist/hard boiled crime stories within the confines of the universe. Parker is a perfect conduit for that, a travelling thief who can interact with many characters in the game. I know I have one story arc I'd like to do involving Gotham and Catwoman, another and the Flash rogues in Central City.

N O T E S:

I guess just so say that I'm going to be playing a lean character with a lean supporting cast so I'm open to interaction

And because I had to... a post sample, originally written as a Parker post before Guildfall:

Strangers in the Night

Central New Jersey
2:12 AM

Tracy Lawless was mad as hell.

He drove down the freeway in the middle of the night, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds for any new cars that may have appeared behind him. He saw the two big duffle bags in the mirror, each one stuffed to the brim with cash. Tracy wore a coat that hid the body armor strapped to his chest. Dried blood was caked on his hands. It wasn't his blood. He fumed and kept the hunk of junk he was driving at seventy. His Charger was back in the city. It was too conspicuous to be used as a getaway car today.

The radio in the car played some god awful country music. He reached over and cruised up and down the dial until he found a talk radio show giving the news.

"One man is still at large after today's daring daytime bank robbery of the 5th Avenue Chase Bank. Masked and armed with automatic weapons, the five men came in during the lunchtime hour and made off with over nine hundred thousand dollars in twenties, fifties, and hundreds. Police soon arrived on the scene and gun battle took place, killing four of the robbers before the fifth masked man took off with the money through midtown, where he lost pursuing police in a high-speed chase."

Tracy listened to the rest of the news story with half-concentration. There were no leads on his whereabouts, and so far they hadn't publically identified the rest of his crew. Everyone but him was dead, gunned down by the cops. One of them blew Jack Legs' brains out before the guy could even move. Blood had spattered Tracy's chest and arms. They showed up way too fast for Tracy's taste. They were promised more time to get the money and get out there, but they didn't get that time. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. Tommy the Cork. Goddamn Tommy the Cork had sold them out, the son of a *****. He'd given his word they would have at least five minutes before the police arrived. The fat bastard must have gotten greedy and double-crossed them. The odds on Tommy being there at the farmhouse waiting was too unlikely. Tracy was the only one left alive and he had the money. He was too big of a loose end, and no way cops would be there for an arrest. Tommy wanted that money all to himself.

An hour later he turned off the freeway and headed down a Southern Jersey highway towards the established rendezvous point. He could just keep going. He had the money, for Christ sake. But he didn't want to do that. He wanted to pay Tommy back for what he had done, the bastard.

Tracy started to slow the junk heap down as the farmhouse got nearer. The time for the meeting was supposed to be four AM, an hour from now, but he was sure Tommy was already hiding somewhere in the dilapidated barn. Tracy pulled to the side of the road twenty miles from the farm and got out. He lugged the two duffle bags filled with cash into the woods beside the road and left them there. He got a tire iron out of the trunk and placed it in the ground beside the highway, marking the place for his return trip, and got back in the car. A half hour later he came to an old and rotting farmhouse and barn. He pulled into the driveway and slowly pulled up to the old barn.

A parked sedan was waiting beside the barn. The windows were rolled down, and Tracy could hear a golden oldies station playing Tommy James and the Shondells. Tracy reached into his jacket and got out the submachine gun he'd used at the bank. Keeping it low, he stepped out the car and approached the parked car.

"Not so fast," a voice said from behind.

He felt a hard something in his back. A pudgy hand slapped the submachine gun from his hand and spun Tracy around. He looked into the fat and gloating face of NYPD Inspector Thomas Corcoran, head of the department's prestigious Special Robbery Unit. He was also supposed to be their inside man in the bank robbery. His job was to get them plans and details about the bank and surrounding area and provide them protection from the cops. He had done the first part well, but failed spectacularly in the second regard.

"You sold us out," Tracy said calmly.

"I just did some simple math," Corcoran said with a large grin. "This money divides up better one way than six. That is, after I give the Kingpin his cut."

"And you'll think he'll just abide you double-crossing us like this?"

"I'll tell him you pulled the double-cross. Tried to skip out with the money after it went sideways. I caught you in the nick of time, though, but see you fought back and I had to kill you. Damn shame. It's a stupid move, but you're a Lawless, kid. Stupid is your middle name."

Tracy felt white-hot rage at the last part. It was all he could do right now to not try to fight Corcoran, even with the gun aimed at him. Instead, Tracy kept his hands up as Corcoran backed away from him and shuffled towards the junk heap. Tracy stayed as still as he could while the fat man looked through the back of the car for the cash.

"Where is it, Lawless?!"

"In the trunk. I got the key right here."

Corcoran stared at him through the dark and started towards him. Just then, Frank Sinatra came on the radio and crooned.

"Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wondering in the night what were the chances,
We'd be sharing love before the night was through?"

Corcoran began to rifle through Tracy's jacket pockets and found no keys. The cop started in through Tracy's pants pockets. He dropped the gun a few inches, focusing on getting the car keys from Tracy's jeans.

"Something in your eyes was so inviting
Something in you smile was so exciting
Something in my heart told me I must have you."

Snarling like a wild animal, Tracy struck and slapped at Corocran's gun. The piece went off twice, bullets snapping by Tracy's ear as they whizzed into the air. The gun fell to the ground with a dull thud. Corcoran tried to reach for it, but he was short and fat, a good six inches shorter and fifty pounds heavier than Tracy. He proved no match for Tracy's strong grip. He hit the cop upside the head with a glancing blow to the skull. Corcoran stumbled back and Tracy hit him with a right hook that knocked him to the ground. Tracy pinned him to the ground with his knees and held him close, his big hands wrapping around Tommy's fat neck.

"Strangers in the night, two lonely people
We were strangers in the night.
Up to the moment when we said our first hello, little did we know
Love was just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away"

Tommy fought and tried to get his hands underneath Tracy's. He struggled and thrashed, tried to claw at Tracy's eyes and mouth. The more he struggled, the more oxygen he burned through and made his death that quicker. Tracy throttled Corcoran's neck for a solid ten minutes, so long that he left rub burns from twisting his big hands around the windpipe. He made sure that there was no life left in the man at all. For what the bastard had done to his crew, it was the least he could do.

"Ever since that night we've been together
Lovers at first sight, in love forever
It turned out so right for strangers in the night."

Tracy took Corcoran's corpse and locked it in the trunk of his car, parking the sedan inside the rotten barn before he got into his own car and drove back to where he had the money stashed. He got the two big duffle bags out the woods, took the tire iron marker, and kept going south so he could find a place to lay low for the next few weeks.

Absolute Comics: A Brave New World

When I realize I have no idea what Discord is:

Absolute Comics: A One Universe Roleplay

Me being me, could I theoretically do a story set in Gotham before Batman? As long as I don't play with the timeframe and say it's someone who shouldn't have existed before Batman came around.

The Fourth Horseman Came

Absolute Comics: A One Universe Roleplay

Could be other ways to ensure people don't squat on characters such as limiting how many characters one can have and putting rules on supporting cast lists. Some of the sheets in previous games have laid claim to so many characters it's gotten ridiculous.

The other thing we can do is apply a rule about posting frequency and if a player hasn't posted in a certain amount of time then their character goes up for auction.

@Lord Wraith

On another site I was involved in, we gave people two weeks to post before they got it taken from them.

The Fourth Horseman Came

I wrote that post last year when we did the fantasy game. Never got a chance to actually post it.

The Fourth Horseman Came

Hatteras Island

The small crowd gathered around the stage clapped as the couple took the stage. The young man had a guitar in his hands, the young woman a fiddle in her right and a bow in her left. They looked at each other for a moment, a half smirk on the man's lips and the woman's eyes filled with warmth as some unsaid inside joke or thought passed between the two. She softly counted down from three as he nodded at her and started to strum. They sang in harmony, their voices ringing out clear in the small bar.

Music

"Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, hoist the mainsail here I come.
Ain't no room on board for the insincere.
You're my witness, I'm your mutineer.
I was born to rock the boat.
Some may sink, but we will float.
Grab your coat, let's get out of here.
You're my witness, I'm your mutineer."

In the corner of the bar, Sam Hall watched with rapt attention. Sam had been coming to the Undertow for years now. Live music was something they occasionally had, but not like this. It was almost always somebody plucking on a banjo or a rusty harmonica. There was something Sam found striking about the song. It was the singers, he finally realized. They projected to the crowd, but they never once took their eyes off each other. The song was being sung at the Undertow, but it wasn't for the Undertow crowd. It was a private duet between the two young musicians. It was borderline voyeuristic.

"Long ago we laughed at shadow.
Lightning flashed, thunder followed.
They could never find us here.
You're my witness, I'm your mutineer."

Someone sliding into Sam's booth finally snapped him from his reverie. The unpleasant hangdog face of Turner Stephens was an unwelcome sight any time, but especially during the midst of the beautiful song being sung on stage. There was also the fact that Sam owed Turner a lot of money, but right now Sam chalked it up to ruining the song. On stage, the young woman was playing her fiddle while her eyes continued to be locked on the guitar player.

"I was born to rock the boat.
Some may sink, but we will float.
Grab your coat, let's get out of here.
You're my witness, I'm your mutineer."

"How's tricks, Sam?" Turner asked in a neutral voice.

"Tricky," Sam replied with his stock phrase. "How goes the business?"

"Trickier still."

The slow song turned into an upbeat number. Sam shifted full attention to Turner. He wondered if the fat man was armed. Sam was. Ever since his fuck up six months ago, he made it a habit to carry the old Beretta pistol everywhere. Even to bed with him. If Turner wasn't armed, Sam was sure there were at least two other guys in the bar who were armed and watching this conversation go down.

"So what can I help you with, Turner?"

"You know exactly what I want, Sam. My fucking money."

"I've been doing all that I can," Sam said with his arms spread open. "Turner, the shit that went down made my name mud and I can't get a fucking paying job to save my life."

"Whose fault is that?" the fat man asked with a raised eyebrow. "Yours. You fucked up, Sam. You know the risks you take when you run contraband for me. You owe me fifteen thousand."

"What?" Sam asked with a scowl. "At most, the shit I lost was five thousand--"

"Plus interest." Turner said with a look that had no give to it. "I didn't demand repayment six months ago. I consider that a loan, a loan that I refinanced three months later."

"And now you've come to collect?"

Now it was Turner's time to spread his hands. Sam balled his fists into his hands and fumed under the surface. When it came to the Outer Banks, men like Turner Stephens ran things. The captains and old timers loved to talk about freedom and the man and the sea and all that bullshit. But the flip side of that was the freedom opened the door to men like Turner and Sam, men who followed that old personal freedom credo to form the criminal backbone of the Outer Banks and the Atlantic coast. They weren't pirates, the Outer Banks ruled piracy a capital offense, but they were just a few steps above it.

"If you don't have my money, Sam. I know of a way you can work off the debt."

Here was the rub. Sam had little doubt that Turner knew full well Sam couldn't pay him before he even set foot in the Undertow. He also knew the piling on of debt and interest was part of it. Guys like Turner liked money and getting it, but they more often than not liked people in debt to them, people who would do anything to work off that debt.

"What?" was all Sam would proffer.

"I know a guy on this little piece of land called Cobb Island. He's holding something for me. Get your rickety ass boat and sail up there, get it, and bring it back to me. Simple enough, right?"

"Cobb Island," Sam said, mostly to himself. It wasn't a place he was familiar with right off the bat.

"Where's it at?"

"Maryland," Turner said with a smirk. "Right were the Potomac and Wicomico Rivers meet."

Sam felt his guts tighten and a cold feeling start at the base of his spin and slowly work its way up his back. That was nowhere near Outer Banks waters. That was--

"Federal waters," he finished his thought out loud. "I'm smuggling something out of the Old Republic?"

Turner winked at him in a smug way.

"You got it."

Sam had visions of federal gunboats and patrol ships going up and down the Potomac on 24/7 patrols. Each one would be armed and blow anything not flying a federal flag out the fucking water. Turner sensed his hesitation and leaned forward with both eyebrows raised as he spoke.

"I'll wipe out all the interest on the fifteen thousand and consider this a pay off on some of the principal. I'm giving you four days, Sam. Two to get up there and two to get back. If you're not back by then, I tack another five grand on your debt every day you're past the due date."

"And if I say no?"

Turner nodded behind him. Sam noticed the two men who were across the room but kept staring at Sam and Turner.

"I get my two guys over there to kick the shit out of you until you cough up the money or die. What do you say?"

Sam waved a waitress over and ordered a drink.

"Always wanted to see the Chesapeake. Now's my chance."

Absolute Comics: A One Universe Roleplay

I like the idea. It -- hypothetically at least -- allows people to not squat on certain characters and keep them inactive.