Chrononaut

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

TESTING

Edit: FUCK

Edit 2: I'M QUITE UPSET



Edit 3: WHAT COLOR IS THE GUILDS GREY THIS IS MADDENING, WHY HAVE YOU FAILED ME COLOR SAMPLE TOOL?!

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

I'm bad with photoshop so STYX LOGOS NOT GOING GREAT. Maybe I need to use something /other/ than the Masque effect.

Starting next post. Need to think of what could possibly be in the Museum of Supers. Rayguns?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

nitemare shape said
Well...it's probably a good thing that Lyger had his armor and weapons recently given an anti demon enchantment....

Theme song for what's happening, because NEEDED.



I'm sure Lyger's going to be great at Demon parties.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Styx sat on the precipice of the bell tower, kicking her legs lazily about. Where in this concrete jungle did they hide their Librarium? Certainly humans read. There were lights everywhere! If they followed that accursed book of lies, they certainly could stand to write other nonsense. Looking around, she hoped the fires weren't burning anything important. Like a morgue. Or a cemetery.

Walking straight down the Cathedral's spire-like bell tower, Styx thought more about cemeteries. About graves. Mark-stones in which a date of birth and death are labelled with the assumption that anyone would care or perhaps a reminder that we all inevitably burn our rope. Then, below this date, a quote that both fails to encapsulate the rotting corpses spirit before death and subsequently fails to attract the attention of anyone. So all graves, forgotten, cast aside, eventually overgrown with foliage and Earth, were of as little use to those inside as to those who visited them.

Styx arrived in the Cathedral's graveyard out of a morbid curiosity. There wasn't any real substantial form of honoring the dead in hell, it was excessively difficult to die there. So the fact there were bodies beneath her feet and not in the stomach of some hungry sloth demon or thrown into the spawning pools was novel, to say the least.

Moving between the graves, she stopped beneath one particularly large and ornate statue. It depicted James Hearsley, famed philanthropist and Olympic athlete. His family had spared no expense on this grave, every detail in his chiseled jaw painstakingly crafted and caring hands holstered carelessly in loose pockets. Pocket square tucked tight, his smile could kill.

Styx exploded the upper half with blasts of hellfire. She hated philanthropists almost as much as she hated the kind who made statues of themselves to celebrate how great they were. She humphed loudly, and throw another ball of fire at the base with a crumbling, hissing crash following soon after.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wandering off from the graveyard, merging with shadow and re-emerging on the other end of the gate. Styx looked left and right. This part of town seemed less active, maybe something to due with the invasion. Through a alley she could see a small fire, inside of a barrel by appearances. Odd. She moved towards this light, ending up in the filthiest, grimiest alley in New Haven. Where garbage wasn't stacked, there were cats, and where there weren't cats, there was garbage, and where there wasn't garbage or cats there was the vagrant. He was curled up against the wall across from the barrel fire on top of a cardboard bed.

This didn't stop Styx from shaking the mans shoulders until he awoke. She needed directions towards the closest Librarium now, before the entire city was burnt to the ground! The filthy flea ridden man groaned awoke, only to see something that was accurately out of this world looming over him. Naturally he yelled aloud, scaring off several of the cats who hadn't naturally of their own accord fled at the sight of a honest to goodness demonic presence.

“Get away Satan, I didn't mean to kill those kids in the war!” he shouted.

Styx spoke in surprisingly fluid english, though her voice smelled and somehow sounded of brimstone, “I am not the Prince of Darkness. Tell me where your Librarium is.”

Now that the bum thought of it, she looked younger than he'd imagine the devil to be. Maybe she was one of those metahumans who was half goat or something. “Woh, sorry you scared me. The Library? Ha! It ain't open this time o' day, specially not to the likes of Ol Bum Joleson, but if yer look in the Museum of Supers gift section, ought to be a book or two I bet. It's up near where the fires are goin' on I think. What do I get for tellin' ya?”

Styx left the alley, climbing up the wall. “A sense of pride for doing good work. Then nothing.”

---

Traveling back through another mirror, Styx arrived in a apartment a few blocks away from the Museum of Supers that had seen better days. Two bodies, broiled to a crisp and hugging tightly in their bed smoked the room. In the living room, the balcony window had been smashed open and there was a clear reptilian foot trail that lead to the couples bedroom. A photo of a child lay cracked on the floor. An optimist would be thankful for the lack of blood.

Looking outside from the balcony, Styx noticed a few things that were troubling. There was far more floodlights, the police having realized some of these demons couldn't teleport within light, and she couldn't simply do a few shifts to reach the other end of the street. Shattering the lights would just inform them something was off. It seemed there were some hastily assembled car barricades set up. Judging from the piles of ash and human corpses, demons had headed this way. The force here seemed far more capable of actually taking on demons and given her stature, Styx didn't feel like her odds were great. At the least she could reach the roof. Walking to the front door, she found a aluminum baseball bat lying near the door. Home protection of a sort, though to her it looked like a club.

Lifting it, she slowly opened the door and peered down the hallway. One way, she saw a long trail of blood. The other, she saw where the trail of blood went, a corpse being devoured by a humanoid demon. There she saw a lesser demon, humanoid, hoofed, but little more than 5'10 in height. The lights were knocked out, a clear sign it wasn't a human in an elaborate costume. She very carefully and very deliberately tiptoed to the stairwell, before barreling through the door and slamming the door behind her, jamming the bat into the doors bar handle in the hopes it might slow the demons advances.

By the time she'd reached the roof, the deafeningly loud crashes had finally ended in one final satisfying crunch. There was no way the humans could have not heard that. As if in answer, a helicopter flew down like Archangel Azrael, flashing its floodlights on Styx. Damn! Focusing her influence on the helicopter light, the glass suddenly shattered and burnt out. Styx ran across the roof, noticing that far out in the distance she could see the winged guardians of the damned wreaking havoc in the night sky, fire raging through neighborhoods, and what seemed to be not demons, not angels, but something else, fighting back.

Something else that controlled the weather, another something else that could fly and throw entire vehicles, a something else that could assume the properties of ice. Were these humans? She pried open a roof vent and crawled inside, the helicopter passing overhead. Peaking her head out, and finally removing herself, she wondered. Just what was she seeing?

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

VATROU said
Seems like taking on that Basilisk will be difficult. Ramsey could really use a hand. Or rather arm. But that's a few more days away before that grows back. I'll see about typing some stuff up tonight after work. But I'll assuredly be busy so no promises on a post.

I'm sure STRIKE at least has a "CONCURRING HORROR INVASION" alarm going off somewhere. That and any other metahuman who doesn't want to see that area of the city totaled. He'll be in (variably good) company!

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

VATROU said
Well good thing Ramsey doesn't care either way. Though how tough do you suppose those Demons are? I might have Ramsey jump in to save the day, we all know Icon is still out for the moment. Someone has to save the day, and Iron Knight is busy flirting. Could even bump into your character Chrono.

For Ramsey? He just needs to tear the human sized ones to shreds (head removal works great) (or beat them to unconsciousness, whichever floats his boat). The larger one, the huge ass snake, the BASILISK, that'd be harder. That one's probably smashed/dug its way underground.

And I'm sure he could, she's the only demonic looking entity (probably) AWAY from the chaos, sitting on top of a pretty fancy Cathedral.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Dedonus said
Everything in Lost Haven is going to Hell (literally). lol

It's the licking flames and casual destruction that let you know it's a family town!

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

I am. I am a throbbing heart. Pulsing, black, undulating, shoving blood through fetid silver veins. Pry me open like a coinpurse. Spread my ribs with a vise, remove my heart. It's cold, wet, and beautiful. Everything you wanted a heart to be. Your lips tremble. They fall apart. A single tear rolls down your lidless eyes. Take a bite with your gaping mouth, then another, and another until the beautiful, perfect heart is inside you. In the torn center of the pulp, you will see your own, perfect face. This is me. I AM.

---

Violent red pulses spread their digitized red lines through ragged rock. Pulling, tugging, guiding all the sins towards the hellish epicenter. A swirling vortex was far above in a red sky of not-stars, stalactites formed around the circumference. A single beam reached up towards it from the ground. This light was not before. Now that it was, every entity within this hellscape was inexplicably drawn towards the effulgent glow, knowing instinctively where it would lead. It would lead to Man.

Hooded devils, demons who's origins stretch back to the beginning of time, encircled the base of the pentagram from which that horrid light rose. Others would approach them, those skin of ash, flame, shadow. They asked by what right they had to reach Man, to commit whatever atrocities they were want to commit. The largest devils answered by right of conquest. Most by right of blood.

One smaller one, more freshly spawned than the others, handed over a skin bound book. “By right of the unknowable.” The hooded one she had approached turned in short rotations until his many eyed visage sat upon her and that horrible, horrible book. One of several maws opened and shuttered closed, in a tongue long thought dead , “Mmm. The Book of Eibon. How did you come upon this?”

“Eibon arrived here, once. Bargained the wretched tome for his freedom. It's a good read.”

It chuckled a hoarse, crackling laugh. “This is acceptable. Though you are young to be crossing the threshold from us...” the elderly demon lowered a blackened, shadowed claw, drawn slowly towards the sky with no less than three boney cracks at each increment. “To sin.”

---

Through the window glass darkly a terrible red light pulsed. The warehouse windows, not far at all from the Museum of Supers, began to murk over with ash and soot. A low, groaning hum shook the many crates and lifting equipment until finally a beam of the same blood light burst through, tearing a sizable hole in the roof and reaching far off into the Lost Haven sky towards the moon. A swirling circle of pentagrams and the gnarling characters of dead tongues acted as the base. Soon after, it sunk into the concrete floor as if it were a rug sinking into the earth, forming a red whirlpool of infernal fire.

It stands to reason nothing good ever came out of holes in the space time continuum like these. In fact, that's a sane assumption and you would best keep thinking that way. Flying humanoid things with bat wings flew out holding pitchforks, skeletal dogs covered in flame shot through the doorways, a snake the size of an eighteen wheeler slithered out and smashed it's way into the streets. The warehouse was on fire in almost no time at all. Succubi and incubi alike found their way to Lost Haven and began causing what could only be described as panic followed by a subsequent rise in the belief of biblical tales.

Then, like any demonic invasion, the infighting began. Blood feuds spanning millennia reared their ugly heads. Sword came upon sword came upon trident came upon claw came upon barbed tail came upon spells so inherently evil it would give pause to even the most depraved supervillain. Even as the warehouse fell apart, they fought.

Then Al'qruni-tun'kil, she who rots blood, Styx, rose from the hell flames into flames that were far more earthly. Blood spattered the floor, the walls, and by some bizarre turn of events had even reached the ceiling. It was hard to tell from the haze of heat and fury who was killing whom. Outside the screams of the living could be heard, the barking of dogs (though the barking had started long before the portal had finalized).

She looked around, trying to find an exit. While fire and smoke would barely harm her, the ceiling collapsing would certainly make her stay in this realm shorter than she wanted. Seeing the door the snake had turned into a gaping hole in the wall, she barreled out into the starry night of Lost Haven. Where the sound of sirens blared, mankind shouting to the void of space that something was going horribly wrong.

Styx of course had no idea what those sounds meant or what purpose many of these buildings served. It was safe to assume those noises were a warning of sorts, possibly for other humans. A hoof footed demon, about seven feet tall, stomped out from the near collapsing warehouse, holding four swords in each of its four hands. It looked down at the shorter, younger demon, a little over five feet tall, and recognized her status as from the second ring of hell. It's bull nose huffed flames as it proclaimed. “I AM SORGATH. YOU DIE, WELP.”

Styx flinched as the hooven monstrosity leaped forward, pulling back its four arms and swinging them around in one clean circular motion. No satisfying crack or gush sounded and Sorgath felt a mixture of disappointment and rage as Styx ran barefoot straight into the streets of Lost Haven. It roared, sprinting after.

Styx ran into flashing red and blue lights, turning to see a blinding white floodlight and several extremely panicked police who immediately opened fire. She melted down to the earth, becoming one with the shadows, and reappeared at an opposing alleyway and skittered up the wall. Sorgath crossed the same street and spun its blades, deflecting several incoming shots before finally breathing a large volume of fire into the line of armored cars. The smell of fire and burnt flesh rose. Sorgath dug each iron clad hoof into the ground, crushing a skull, and leaped onto the roof Styx had frantically climbed onto.

Styx spun around, loosely throwing two blasts of hellfire like baseballs at Sorgaths face. It stumbled back. Styx used that time to run, jumping from the six story building into the in-between of the first and second floor of the building across the street. Bodies were carelessly strewn on the stairway, the ashen remains of slain demons littered the next floor up. This was not going like Styx had hoped. For one, she thought as she frantically ran up the stairs. A crashing impact was heard not far behind her. For one,the portal opened to what humans loosely call “civilization”. I should have expected. She pushed open a doorway, number 7A, a body on the other side resisted her attempts. Turning, she saw Sorgath across the hall, just as furious as ever. He began to charge. Throwing all of her light weight into the door, Styx stumbled and rolled in. Not far off, she could see a room with a vanity mirror. Sprinting towards it, Styx was followed close behind by Sorgath who threw his blade at the welplings back. She fell into the mirror, and the sword shattered glass.

---

News Broadcasts

“After over two hundred casualties in the surrounding districts of Sherman Square, the violence has finally slowed down.”

“Metaman, what exactly are these invaders?” “I have no idea, demons maybe? Aliens?”

“It had...my face. It stole my face!”

“Call 1-800-666-2345! Operators are on the line. Will you protect your family from planar invasions?”

“The Apocalypse has begun, we must all repent! The devil has embedded his talons in mans soul, his being! Rapture follows soon and only the chosen shall bask in the light of God!”

---

Three young girls stood in front of a mirror, giggling and dimming the lights. “Ok, ok. Who's going first?”

One girl, tallow hair and bones, shook her head frantically. Her taller friend, dark haired and raven eyed, laughed. “Don't be a wuss! Come on!” The third pudgy girl nodded and parroted what the raven eyed girl said.

The lanky girl quivered in her dog paw pajamas, closed her eyes. “Bloody mary...Bloody mary...Bloody....”

When she had the courage to open her eyes, in the mirror was a grey skinned, yellow eyed horned girl not much older than they. It widened its eyes, which flashed red and leaked blood, the lights in the room fizzled out, and each girl screamed a scream they would never scream louder.

Styx jumped from the mirror, following after the girls into the hall. A mother, the lanky girls, walked out. “Is everything alrig- oh.” Styx stared daggers through her for a moment, then burst through the back door. Looking about, a common citizen would have recognized the French Quarter, named after a minority of buildings based loosely on Château's and one recognizable Cathedral. She recognized nothing but the Cathedral, who's bell tower would at least give her time to think if nothing else.

Finding her way past the disorienting neon signs and flashing stoplights, Styx eventually arrived at the base of the Cathedral. She leaped onto the cobbled wall and climbed, flipping her way onto the backs of Gargoyles and swinging jutting sculptures until finally reaching the bells. Wiping sweat from her brow, she looked out towards the glowing orange and smoke rising far out in the distance. It seemed like the others were enjoying themselves.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

VATROU said
Sorry took me long enough. Life has been busy, connected with an old friend over in Canada. Thankfully he still uses Skype. Beat Arkham City, mostly. That game has me addicted. Not helping I know. Anyways, his new safehouse can be near anyone if they want. Or otherwise it'd be just some decent place in a clean neighborhood.Edit Totally dig the Demon Chrono, She'll have fun I'm assuming.

All the fun! HA HA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG (Closed)

Character you have created: Al'qruni-tun'kil (She who rots blood)

Alias: Styx

Speech Color (Actually say what you're using, don't go "Like this", or what not): Red.

Character Alignment: Walking the Line

Identity: Secret (On account of not being of this world)

Character Personality: Cryptic and dour, Styx is not the most pleasant...thing, to be around. Her bizarre sense of morality is indecipherable to those who don't live in the infernal planes, but at the least she is ambivalent to other entities. At worst, she's nefarious, at best, capricous. Seeks out knowledge that can only be described as “should not be read” and “why would you even”.

Uniform/costume:

Appearance

Costume

Origin Info/Details: Spawned from the spawning pits of hell itself, Styx crawled from the murk, devouring the first other she could to sustain her birth hunger. Whoever was thrown and subsequently murdered by the spawning pit to produce her would have been proud, probably. Or would have just eaten her. Hell is funny that way.

Eventually driven towards the sin she most represented, Scratch found herself in the shadowed librarium. Only demons or the most foolish mages ever read from these tomes and scrolls and tablets of God knew what. And if he did know, he wasn't talking about it and for good reason. Many of the books would kill if they could and often did.

This was the closest thing to schooling as you were going to get in the second layer of Hell and the other spawnlings that had not been devoured found themselves there as well, pulled by forces none could understand. For years they poured over the words, the thoughts and trials put down to paper becoming their very being.

Re-awakening from their trance, each demon found they now had full knowledge of the hierarchy of the seven hells and their position therein. Styx was resident on the second tier of hell and a part of the ash skinned tribe that worked in the blazing canyons near the River Styx. There the restless dead walked through a rushing, disease-ridden river and snakes dripped poison onto their defeated eyes. She met the tribe elder, who knew precisely the moment any new kin would arrive by prophecy. He told her that a portal to another plane would open soon (relative to their concept of time) and if she were to have anything to offer she too could cross.

Four more years, now survived fourteen cycles of the not-moon, she trained in the ways of her kin, so when the Apocalypse, Ragnarock, or whatever it was called in this day and age arrived, she may offer her hand in war. During this time, she had also managed to acquire the Book of Eibon from a poor, poor soul. Offering this, she gained access to the hell portal leading to the City of “Haven”.

Hero Type : Supernatural (Demon)

Power Level : Street Level

Powers : Being a demon, Styx can instantly appear and move about in shadows, throw hellfire, walk into mirrors and appear in another. Can instantly break lights, blow out fires, and haze windows with her infernal presence. Able to make electronics go haywire. Is able to walk straight along walls and ceilings, move agile on all fours. She's able to use swords and staves with decent competency. Something of a healing factor, can't heal a removed limb but able to remove a blade from her chest and heal if the weapon wasn't sanctified.

Attributes (Select one at each category):

Strength Level: Normal Human

Speed/Reaction Timing Level: Normal Human

Endurance at MAXIMUM Effort: 3 hours

Agility: 5X Human level.

Intelligence: Average

Fighting Skill: Trained

Resources: Minimal

Weaknesses: Religious symbols when held with proper conviction prevent her from acting upon the wielder, things like holy water can burn. Salt when placed around a door or window will keep her out of a house. Sanctified weaponry.

Supporting Characters: Ash Tribe – Closest thing to “Relatives”.

Do you know how to post pictures on RPG boards?:

Sample Post (Minimum Four paragraphs containing dialogue. As this is an Advanced Level game, Sample must also meet the RPG forum's minimum requirement of 12 lines):

I am. I am a throbbing heart. Pulsing, black, undulating, shoving blood through fetid silver veins. Pry me open like a coinpurse. Spread my ribs with a vise, remove my heart. It's cold, wet, and beautiful. Everything you wanted a heart to be. Your lips tremble. They fall apart. A single tear rolls down your lidless eyes. Take a bite with your gaping mouth, then another, and another until the beautiful, perfect heart is inside you. In the torn center of the pulp, you will see your own, perfect face. This is me. I AM.

Violent red pulses spread their digitized red lines through ragged rock. Pulling, tugging, guiding all the sins towards the hellish epicenter. A swirling vortex was far above in a red sky of not-stars, stalactites formed around the circumference. A single beam reached up towards it from the ground. This light was not before. Now that it was, every entity within this hellscape was inexplicitly drawn towards the effulgent glow, knowing instinctively where it would lead. It would lead to Man.

Hooded devils, demons who's origins stretch back to the beginning of time, encircled the base of the pentagram from which that horrid light rose. Others would approach them, those skin of ash, flame, shadow. They asked by what right they had to reach Man, to commit whatever atrocities they were want to commit. The largest devils answered by right of conquest. Most by right of blood.

One smaller one, more freshly spawned than the others, handed over a skin bound book. “By right of the unknowable.” The hooded one she had approached turned in short rotations until his many eyed visage sat upon her and that horrible, horrible book. One of several maws opened and shuttered closed, in a tongue long thought dead , “Mmm. The Book of Eibon. How did you come upon this?”

“Eibon arrived here, once. Bargained the wretched tome for his freedom. It's a good read.”

It chuckled a hoarse, crackling laugh. “This is acceptable. Though you are young to be crossing the threshold from us...” the elderly demon lowered a blackened, shadowed claw, drawn slowly towards the sky with no less than three boney cracks at each increment. “To sin.”