clanjos

Absolute Comics - Season Two: TBD [ACCEPTING NEW PLAYERS] {TEST THREAD}

How's Tommy looking with the sample post?

Massive Multiversal Crossover

The Museum

"Oh, well when you put it that way, I guess I really sho- Sweetie, Gunk Shot the little brat. We can't have her getting in the way of our plans."

Sweetie, once again, blasted out with a tremendous stream of toxic slime, this time aimed for Dlanor. Angels were pretty close to fairy-types, the Rocket Grunt figured, so it couldn't be too far off to assume that the dragon-felling poison of a Pokemon she raised like her own child would work wonders. As the toad fired, the Rocket Grunt tossed two more Pokeballs into the air.

"Don't worry about making it double... I'm gonna provide THREE times the trouble! Shedinja! Babs! It's time to party!"

SOIYA! PINECONE SQUASH!

Meanwhile, the Kurokage Trooper jumped from the shadows, flourishing his spear at as a tremendous pinecone formed of destructive energy formed on the end, leaving a trail of missing ground as he continued his flight towards Kiba.

CONNECT... NOW!

All of this was a distraction, however, as a golden magic circle opened beneath the throne, which fell through from a tremendous suction before the gate shut.

---

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria

The throne, like anything traveling into this universe, landed with a thud on the floor of the men's room handicap stall. A number of Shocker Grunts stood ready, pulling the throne out and putting it on the stage- where the animatronics surrounded it. There was going to be a meeting very shortly after this.

---

The dMP

The fights... were looking pretty grim for the Black Mist Federation. Red Bloody Hell was caught in Boaconda's coils, and they were only drawing tighter. Sunshine chuckled, leaning back in his seat.

"You know, old man, maybe it's best to just throw in the towel. Boaconda's really putting the squeeze on your boy, and I don't think he can take it at his age."

"You're one to talk, Sunshine. My Red Bloody Hell... is about to show you his TRUE POWER!"

The man in the suit designed to mimic the veins of the human body grunted, as he strained against the snakeborg's coils. Slowly but surely, they were pushed apart, and Red Bloody Hell jumped out, grabbing a folding chair from ringside and smashing into Boaconda's face when the snake made a move to strike. While the snakeborg was still stunned, Red Bloody Hell grabbed him by the throat and performed a devastating Back Breaker... one so devastating, that Boaconda's tail came lose with a sickening sound of wrenching metal. Oil and serpent's blood poured out onto the mat as Sunshine gasped in horror. Red Bloody Hell wasn't finished, and he was lifting Boaconda's torso overhead.

"I don't believe it! That move... It's not possible! Not even the BMF would do something like that!"

From the announcer's booth, Mack Metaphor stared in terror.

"Doc, I don't think I believe my eyes! It's... It's... horrifying! And he's not even done yet!"

"I'm afraid not, Mack. I almost feel sorry for Boaconda- this isn't a move you can walk... er, slither away from."

Soon, however, Satan Demon was standing, cackling and pointing to the arena with his swordcane.

"BEHOLD, SUNSHINE! GAZE UPON BLACK MIST EXECUTION #7: THE BURNING HAMMER!"

Red Bloody Hell proceeded to jump towards the ceiling, leaning towards his side as he dropped a full six feet, driving Boaconda's head into the canvas... and repeating the move, again and again, before with one final crack, the snakeborg's head was driven through the mat. Letting out an evil laugh, Red Bloody Hell raised his sword and glared at the camera. Boaconda's body sparked for a moment before violently exploding... his head landing in the lap of a very nervous sunshine.

"Perhaps, you sandy septuagenarian... It is time YOU threw in the towel."

Absolute Comics - Season Two: TBD [ACCEPTING NEW PLAYERS] {TEST THREAD}

Edited in a brief sample post involving gorillas, jetpacks, and fistfights.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: TBD [ACCEPTING NEW PLAYERS] {TEST THREAD}

No sample post yet, I'm getting hungry.

Name: Thomas "Tommygun" Hardman
Alias: The Demon, Nebiros, The Demonpuncher
Age: 37
Appearance:
Tommygun Hardman is a world-renowned explorer and archaeologist, discovering numerous ruins and unearthing countless cultural artifacts. His body's covered with scars and bumps from close calls with the deathtraps of cultures ranging from aliens who settled Earth in the prehistoric past to gun-toting mobsters hoarding mystical artifacts that Hardman believes belong to the archaeological world- IE, museums or in the hands of the descendants of the makers. For some reason, probably the stink of blood from strange creatures on his knuckles, animals hate him.

Nebiros is a high-class Demon. Due to the structure of Hell's "Lower is Better" hierarchy, this marks him as a fairly powerful warrior who receives absolutely no respect in the infernal court. He claims that at one point Mu, Lemuria, Ys, and even Atlantis were under his rule... before the wizards screwed him over and sunk his lands. Because of this, he really feels for the people of South America.

Abilities/Skills:

Supreme Pugilist: Many assume that Tommy's a metahuman due to the things he's defeated in a fistfight. This isn't the case- he's just a very skilled boxer who's trained his body and reflexes to the very limit.

Magical Fists: Over his career as an adventurer, Tommygun Hardman has punched a lot of supernatural creatures. So many, in fact, that the combination of blood, sweat, and tears from punching demons, dragons, eldritch terrors, ghosts, mummies, and wizards has rendered his fists magical in their own right. He can punch incorporeal targets, and his blows hit supernatural creatures and those vulnerable to magic far harder than they should.

Adventurer: Spending most of his formative years plunging into mysterious jungles and dark ruins, it takes a lot to phase him. Scaring him doesn't seem possible- he fist-fought demons on multiple occasions and won.

Demonic Service: Thomas punched Nebiros so hard that the demon was forever bound to his service. While Nebiros isn't happy about it, he's thankful that his host can take care of himself, leaving him to his own devices. As with all demons in a pact, Nebiros must be summoned by an incantation. Nebiros has typical demonic powers- super strength and durability, super jumping, and the ability to breathe hellfire. In addition, he's covered in spikes, making him a dangerous foe in close combat. Like most demons, Nebiros has a weakness- in his case, it's oceans. He can't cross them or even touch them, and salt water burns him like iron burns other demons. It's worth noting due to Tommy's own skill as a boxer, he's never had to use his contract with Nebiros.

Backstory:

Adventurer. Explorer. Man of Danger. Demonpuncher. Tommygun Hardman may not be a household name, but men's life magazines from across the world have featured stories about his adventures. Whether fighting the Serpent-Men in the gladiatorial arena of The Tenth City, stealing the Amulet of Kabushek from the Lost Pyramid of Arkan-Ya, or rescuing beautiful damsels from the clutches of savages, odds are that anyone who reads adventure novels has come across a story that he remembers in perfect detail. Over the years, he's fought supernatural threats ranging from Trigon's demons to lizardmen from an alternate dimension using nothing but his fists, a quick wit, and an iron jaw.

His most recent expedition took him to a place called Devil's Island, where he hoped to claim an artifact of a lost demon-worshipping empire from before the dawn of man. The object in question was purportedly the skull of a demon, which when placed over one's head would let the wearer view the distant past. However, this was a ruse perpetrated by a cult worshipping Nebiros. The skull actually kept the demon sealed on the island, and when removed from its pedestal, Nebiros was brought back into the mortal world, free to begin his eternal reign of darkness. Rather than running in terror and leaving the demon to his devices, however, Tommygun Hardman relied on the "summoning sickness" that supernatural creatures develop after being sealed away from a given dimension and proceeded to punch the demon in the face. After all, this wasn't his first rodeo- he'd beaten demons before.

The battle between the fists of man and strength of a demon raged for nearly an hour before Hardman landed a decisive blow on Nebiros' jaw. Though not enough to fell the demon, it was enough to send the warrior-king to the floor, and to amuse him- he had found a warrior in this day and age who had skill nearly equal to the strength of a warrior demon. Nebiros was so amused, in fact, that he offered Thomas service- and the mystical skull- if he'd lay off and just let him go home. The pact was struck, Nebiros returned to hell after millenia of absence, and Tommygun had claimed not only the mystical Skull of Devil's Island, but the service of an ancient demon.

Of course, all of that does nothing when one of Gorilla Grod's patrols catches you taking a piss in the jungle on your way to your plane to sell the mystical skull to Black Adam.

Sample Post:

A dozen gorillas stood behind him as Tommygun Hardman shook off, sighing. This wasn't the first time he'd met with the citizens of Gorilla City, and as long as they still inhabited a stretch of land so filled with Native American cultural sites and semi-mystical artifacts, it probably wouldn't be the last. Of course, given that they were still pointing the guns rather than simply waving him on his way, it was readily apparent that these apes were meeting Tommygun Hardman for the first time. He zipped up and called back in his thick Boston accent.

"Ya know, if you're jockeyin' foa the position of 'Hardman's Favorite Monkey,' ya should probably start throwin' bananas instead of firin' bullets."

With a grunt, one of the apes pulled the trigger... only to see the human duck out of the way, rolling to his feet and breaking into a sprint with the strange skull.

"Though I guess I should be thankful ya dumb chimps ain't throwin" shit!"

Making for the treeline, Tommygun Hardman began weaving through the jungle, trying to put as many trees between him and the gorillas as possible. Gorillas were adapted for the low tree-density environment of African jungles and forests, rather than the strange rocky mix of hilly jungle and redwood forest that now described California. It wouldn't be long before he was out of the gorilla territory and back in a civilization that wasn't going to monkify him for breeding purposes. He breathed a sigh of relief. His rest, however, was cut short when he heard the whine of a jet engine as a gorilla with a rocketpack attempted to tackle him to the ground. Another weave to the side, and he was grabbing on to the gorilla's foot, sliding along for the ride.

"Now, Koko, calm down! I'm sure you'll find a big ape stupid enough to bring home to mother someday!"

As the gorilla moved to try to grab him, Tommy let go, letting the gorilla's shifting weight send it slamming into the ground as he stepped on its back to continue running. Another of the jetpack-gorillas dropped from above, managing to tackle Tommy to the ground, rolling along as they both stood to face off- the gorilla's weapon smashed by the ape's weight, and Tommy's pistol lost in the Temple of Devil's Island. With a mighty roar, the gorilla jumped forward, bringing down its fists like a hammer. Tommygun Hardman sidestepped, taking a glancing blow- still quite painful judging by his wincing- and delivering a punch to the gorilla's stomach, followed by a few jabs to the face. The gorilla reached up in an attempt to crush the adventurer in a bear hug, only to be met with more jabs to the face. The gorilla began staggering backwards, grunting and wiping a trickle of blood as it looked around. The Jungle was different. It... was more natural. Apparently this scared the ape, as it took off with the jetpack back toward Gorilla City. And Tommygun Hardman found out why when he was hit in the back of the head by a rifle butt. One of Blockbuster's men had tried to knock him out. Tommygun Hardman repaid him in kind, flooring the guard with a mystically empowered right hook. Of course, where there's one, there's usually twenty more. And Tommygun Hardman was used to getting arrested in this job.

Notes: Yeah, still liking Coke, but now I've tried Peach Fresca which is amazing.

Behold, behold the strength of man!
I strike down legions of the damned.
From Satan's hall, or darkest pits,
I crush the demons with my fists.
In hellish blood, my hands are soaked!
Arise, the Demon: Nebiros!

Absolute Comics - Season Two: TBD [ACCEPTING NEW PLAYERS] {TEST THREAD}

What kind of weirdo would put that much effort into a joke submission? Santa's an established part of DC canon. If he's not acceptable, I can probably whip up something else.

@Lord Wraith

Absolute Comics - Season Two: TBD [ACCEPTING NEW PLAYERS] {TEST THREAD}

• Name: Agios Nikolaus
• Alias: Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, Sinterklauss, St. Nick, Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, Chris
• Age: Born in the 4th Century AD
• Appearance: HO HO HO!
• Abilities/Skills:

  True Immortality: As one of the 13 Immortals, Santa Claus can not be killed by any means available. In the distant past, Trigon thought he succeeded... only to find a lump of coal and a stern note telling hem to be less naughty.
  
  Great Magus: Santa is one of the most powerful wizards in history, capable of incredible feats of sorcery that put Dr. Fate to shame. Levitation, speed surpassing light, passing through walls, super speed, tapping into the mystical bag of gifts from any container, scrying on all of humanity to reward the nice and disappoint the naughty- all are within the arcane might of Santa Claus.
  
  Holiness: St. Nicholas, of course, is a Saint. His divine presence is anathema to the unholy.
  
  Master of Infiltration: Each year on Christmas Eve, the supervillains of the world find entire sacks of coal on their bed. A grim reminder of just what he could do were he a murderer. Even more surprisingly, Santa is able to give Darkseid a lump of coal every year in spite of Apokalips' continuously advancing security systems.
• Backstory:

  Saint Agios Nikolaus of Myra was a 4th-century Greek Christian bishop of Myra (now Demre) in Lycia, a province of the Byzantine Empire, now in Turkey. Nikoluas was famous for his generous gifts to the poor, in particular presenting the three impoverished daughters of a pious Christian with dowries so that they would not have to become prostitutes. Saint Nicholas was later claimed as a patron saint of many diverse groups, from archers, sailors, and children to pawnbrokers. He is also the patron saint of both Amsterdam and Moscow. In that time, magic was simply viewed as another form of wisdom, and St. Nicholas used this wisdom to become an avatar of generosity. On the night of the Winter Solstice of each year, he would ride off in a sleigh driven by eight reindeer to distribute gifts to children around the world. He maintained a census of which children were naughty and which children were nice, doling out his gifts accordingly.
  
  For his use of magic and station to aid the downtrodden, Nicholas was raised to the status of Saint, and later became one of the 13 Immortals necessary for the balance of the world (see Vandal Savage, Professor Ivo, etc.). His immortality comes not from his magic, a meteorite (like Vandal), or some sort of serum (like Ivo), but is a gift the gods and supernatural forces of the world have given him. For while humans leave out milk and cookies, the Roman pantheon left him Nectar and Ambrosia. While this would have killed a mortal, Nicholas had a touch of divinity from his sainthood, and instead became a divine being in his own right.
  
  For centuries, Santa has kept up his vigil, maintaining the gentle guidance of humanity by rewarding the virtuous, kind-hearted, just, and nice with toys and sweets. To the naughty, he gave a gift of coal- while by no means as good as a toy or candy, it would warm a cold house and serve as a reminder there was still hope. To the EXTREMELY naughty, he would give the parents painful switches to discipline their child. And for truly wicked children... well, that was why The Krampus followed him. His pursuit of kindness, generosity, and decency earned him a position as honorary member of the Justice League- much to the joy of Superman, who never lost faith, and much to the disdain of Batman, who hated all things related to the Holiday season.
  
  Attempts have been made on Santa's life continuously since the revolution, only to be met with derisive laughter and a gift of coal. However, the nice list is dwindling, and the naughty list's crimes grow more severe each day, and now these idiots have got it in their heads that they can kidnap St. Nick. On top of this, another of the 13 Immortals is using his power to rule over humanity with an iron fist. It's only a mater of time before Santa must bring the world back into balance and thin out that naughty list for good.
• Sample Post:

  John was imprisoned by Joker, and through the funhouse,
  not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
  The men sat 'round, the chimeny, armed to the teeth.
  Would the old man come from above, or beneath?
  The henchmen, they quivered, wishing wills had been made- Old Father Christmas can't be stopped by grenades.
  The Joker in hiding, his mooks in bullet proof vests, were hoping tonight they wouldn't be put to the test.
  When out on the lawn, with a rat-a-tat-tat, it seemed that a clown was unloading his gat.
  Away to the window, Joker ran like the Flash, hoping to find a corpse covered in ash.
  But that was not what he found, oh thank god no- he was only met with a jolly "HO-HO-HO!"
  And with that, down through the chimney, cheeks glowing with age, came the jolliest wizard- face twisted in rage.
  
  Santa hefted his bag, glaring with a mix of fury and disappointment at the men who called themselves part of Joker's gang. They could be so much more, even in the hellhole that was Jokerland, but they had chosen to enforce the mad clown's anarchy. He shook his head, a single tear coming to his eye over the lost potential. As the Joker opened his mouth to begin a tirade, Kringle unleashed a mighty punch that sent the Clown Prince sprawling, walking over to the hostage Joker had taken- Dr. John Walsborough, pediatrician. Apparently some of the thugs had thought he could get them prescription drugs and kidnapped him in the night- but all Dr. Walsborough had was child-strength tylenol and antibiotics. Dropping the bag to help the man to his feet, the Joker's goons proceeded to unload into Santa. This continued until the Holiday Hero shot a glare at a man with a rubber nose leveling an uzi at him, shouting over the sound of gunfire.
  
  "TIMOTHY HAROLD HENDRICKS."
  
  The man was pretty clearly taken aback by the use of his real name. This... couldn't be SANTA Santa, right? It was just some costumed nutjob using the name. With a sigh, Santa calmed down and gave a jolly smile.
  
  "You put down that gun this instant, young man. You don't have to prove anything to me. I know how brave you are inside." As other henchmen began to lower their weapons, Santa turned to each. "And you, Clayton! Your mother is worried sick about you. Davis, think about your little girl! Who's taking care of her right now? Honestly, running off in the dead of night to associate with these... harlequin hoodlums! You... all of you... could be so much more. I mean... Roger! You were going to be a medical student! Charles, you always wanted to be a cop to make Gotham safer. And Davis... You're going to have a son. You're throwing your lives away here. You're dooming yourselves to a life under this three-ring nutjob and locking yourselves out of the happiness you deserve."
  
  The rotund man stuck out a hand with a jolly smile. Many of the men present were tearing up from the presence of THE Santa Claus- a beacon of hope even among the shithole of Jokerland. The rest stood in terror of the magical might of Santa Claus. "Come on. Let's get that ridiculous makeup off and get you some solid meals. It's the first day of the rest of y-"
  
  "HAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAA! SO YOU THINK IT'S THAT EASY, DO YOU?! WELL, KRINGLE, LET ME TELL YOU, PEOPLE ARE ANIMALS, AND-"
  
  Santa gave a gentle smile to the men who'd laid down their guns and started trying to wipe off their makeup. "Excuse me for a moment."
  
  With a mighty heave, he pulled Joker up and headbutted him, grabbing a lump of coal and shoving it in the clown's mouth. A booming voice, less jovial gift-giver and more immortal wizard dedicated to the preservation of mankind's peace and happiness, boomed out from beneath Santa's beard.
  
  "NO, YOU CIRCUS-STAINED PSYCHOPATH..."
  
  WHAM! Santa punched it into the Joker's mouth and down his throat.
  
  "PEOPLE ARE GOOD, NOBLE BEINGS..."
  
  WHAM! Another lump of coal as Santa punched Joker in the mouth again, forcing the second lump down the esophagus. The clown let out a wheezy laugh, secure in the knowledge he was about to corrupt an icon of happiness and goodness... only to find Santa throwing him to the ground.
  
  "BUT YOU? YOU ARE SICK. YOUR SICKNESS SPREADS TO THOSE AROUND YOU. THE DISEASE YOU SPREAD SHALL BE CURED. YOUR EMPIRE SHALL FALL, YOU ABORTION OF COMEDY, AND WHEN IT BURNS, I WILL BE THERE TO METE OUT THE JUST DESSERTS OF NAUGTHY, NICE... AND DISGUSTING MONSTERS LIKE YOU."
  
  A final mighty punch, delivered straight to Joker's nose, flew out, and Santa let the clown fall to the ground, broken, bloodied, and bruised, plucking one of Joker's teeth from his glove as he led the former henchmen out of the safehouse.
  
  "SEE YOU NEXT CHRISTMAS, JACK NAPIER."
• Other: I'm partial to Fresca or Coke.

Legend of Zelda: Chains of Fate RP

Though Dingle did her best, the screeching of the kokiri was highly distracting.

Massive Multiversal Crossover

Client World [???] Museum, 'Great Chairs Of The World' Exhibit

"Prepare for trouble... And make it d-"
"Dude, there's three of us."

Three more of Shocker+'s agents stood in the museum foyer, looking bored. Two of them were already in costume, one patterned after an ashigaru and the other after some kind of medieval magic-user. They were mostly here to serve as a distraction. And to this end, they were rehearsing the attention-grabbing motto of the pink-haired Rocket Grunt. Or that was the Rocket's plan, anyway. Her compatriots were having none of it.

"Yeah, and this line of work is all about style. You think you get those fancy belts because you need 'em to summon form-fitting spandex? Hell no. Now shut up and do the motto, someone's coming."

"Jeez, fine," the wizard grumbled.

The group formed up, the ashigaru hiding in the shadows and readying his spear. Releasing a strange bipedal frog-creature from one of her pokeballs, the Rocket Grunt began the pose.

"Prepare for trouble..."
"And make it double!"

"To blight the worlds with devastation!"
"To enslave all people within all nations!"

"To denounce the evils of truth and love..."
"And extend our reach to the worlds above!"

"Shadow Eternity! Destroying all in a flash of light... Surrender now..."

The three shouted out in unison, though the ashigaru and mage were noticeably less excited about it.

"OR PREPARE TO FIGHT!"
"TO-XI-CROOOOOOAAAAK!"

Giggling, the pink-haired woman placed a hand on her hip, pointing to some of the civilians making a run for it. "Okay, Sweetie, you know the drill. Clear out the rabble so we can get to searching properly. Gunk Shot."

Sweetie the Toxicroak gave an affirmative ribbit as its cheeks began swelling, filling with a strange purple liquid... shortly before a high-pressure stream of foul-smelling gunk began firing at the museumgoers, pinning several to the floor or walls. The Ashigaru kept his position in the shadow, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The mage, however, placed a ring on his finger and scanned it. CONNECT... NOW! Reaching into a magic circle opening at his side, he retrieved a witch's broom, mounting it and making his way to the ceiling before pulling another weapon. All three watched the entrance with bated breath.

D&D 5E: Waterborne Adventures

• Name: Angus of Clan Longhorn/"Big Bison"
• Race: Minotaur
• Class: Fighter
• Background: Gladiator
• Personality Traits: I love a good insult, even directed at me.
• Ideal: The world is in need of new ideas and bold action.
• Bond: I would do anything for the other members of my old troupe.
• Flaw: Won a match that was supposed to be rigged. The nobles want my head for it.

Important Stuff:

• The Most Important NPC In Your life: The Ultimate Warrior, champion of the Circus
• The One Goal You Wish To Achieve: Prove to those nobles that I'm king of the ring by wrestling a giant
• Island of Birth: Gladius
• Reason For Embracing The Sea: Where else am I going to find a giant to wrestle?
• Backstory: Angus is a minotaur. There's really only one path for him- Gladius. He's wrestled in the Circus all his life, winning and losing matches and becoming stronger for it. He's met the love of his life and his best friend in the ring. The ring IS his life. So when some wealthy nobles from other islands thought they could rig a match to make money on the betting, they got quite angry when it turned out the matches weren't fake and Angus pulled a come-from-behind victory. So angry, in fact, that they chased him out of the arena with torches and pitchforks. Said nobles were certain that he had cheated. While the officials and regulars of Gladius knew him to be on the up-and-up, Angus was still deeply insulted. On top of that, the nobles were hiring people to harass patrons of the arena. Eventually, the Ultimate Warrior himself gave Angus the order: "Find the mightiest foe you can. They can not deny your might if they witness it firsthand." And so, Angus set out... in search of the match of the century.

WRASSLIN'

D&D 5E: Waterborne Adventures

Wrasslin' Minotaur ready.