Dblade26

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

...seriously? There's a Co-GM label right next to Alf's name. You're talking to a Co-GM for the game.

Star Wars - Lawless Galaxy

Skidder and Koren Part 2

“I ask because there’s a shipment of Umbaran weapons and technology being sold in Hutt Space. I need you to go verify the legitimacy of the weapons, purchase them if they’re the real deal and bring them back to Paradise.” Koren wasn’t in the habit of stockpiling arms, however this was a serious game changer and could tip the scales of the conflict in Hutt Space. He wasn’t ready for anyone to have this kind of an advantage, if they were fraudulent then he didn’t care as much. Though these weapons could turn a small time player into a big player, and that was a power upset he didn’t want to witness.

“I’ll pay the usual rate, and I’ll even include money for a protection detail. However the stipulation is that a hired gun with you does not see, or touch the merchandise. That’s a no go. Any questions?”

Well, Skidder hadn’t expected that! It might almost be worth it to be able to say he’d traded genuine Umbaran weaponry. Rare feats like that helped build a reputation. On the other hand, “Your terms are good enough. But am I allowed to know who the initial seller is, Your Generousness? I mean, I am one of only a handful of sellers who could authenticate such weapons, so I’d like to know who I’ll be dealing with if it suits you.” And with that information, the sorts of people who’d likely be trying to kill him over the merch, though with such a rare find the list was going to be long. “Not to mention where the sale’s taking place. Can’t go there if I don’t know where it is.” Skidder knew that Koren liked to keep details on certain jobs close to the chest, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d just been dropped a set of coordinates and a pass-phrase for whoever he was buying from or selling to in the least.

Koren shrugged. “The initial seller? Not terribly important. He’s an old contact from the Clone Wars, a Neimoidian. Turns out he apparently managed to smuggle out a ship full of Umbaran weaponry. He’s been living quite happily as an arms dealer, turns out he’s managed to make quite the killing out of selling combat droids. Nothing quite like the amounts serving in the Clone Wars of course. Though apparently a couple of years ago the Empire found his factory and destroyed it, he’s lived quite happily off his riches for a long time though with the fall of the Emperor and the instability needs to do some upgrades to his compound, and while he has money he doesn’t want to use all of it, hence the shipment of Umbaran tech he’s been sitting on for years.” Koren brought up a hologram flicking through the apparent catalogue of items. From blasters and bodysuits to droids and mines.

“He doesn’t have any vehicles apparently, though I’ll see if your ability to talk can find out if there is truth in that. In terms of Venue, there’s few places that don’t have a large criminal presence. I’m sending payment to a new group of mercenaries on Ques-” Not that he actually believed them to be mercenaries, though the planet and their suspected origin would work to his advantage “-to clear a landing zone big enough for your ship, and his. Completely neutral, I’ll forward you the coordinates once you leave. I should point out, you’re not selling. You’re not redistributing, or keeping for yourself. These weapons are being brought right back here. Any questions?”

Skidder took in Koren’s meaning well enough. Try to hold onto a portion of the stash himself and it would be a violent violation of their agreement. Not that he wasn’t tempted, but even Skidder wasn’t foolish enough to try and keep a secret like that from Hutt Space’s most notorious information broker.

“None, now that that’s cleared up. Seems like a fairly decent point-A-to-B deal unless the information and location have already leaked to other ears-” Skidder was hasty to add “Not that I doubt your security and discretion. I’ll still take you up on that payment for extra muscle. Being shot by a glitchy old Battle Droid from the Clone Wars isn’t how I want to get out of the business. Unless there’s anything else, I’ll start my search for talent. I’d appreciate any suggestions in that direction, but only if they come free of strings or charge.”

Koren shrugged. “You’re perfectly capable of picking your own bodyguard.” Koren stood up. “Alright, are we done here?”

Skidder stood up as well, still grinning albeit less from nervousness-although a certain queasy feeling remained- and more from excitement at the thought of such rare weaponry and his being associated with it.

“Yeah, we’re done Your Perspicaciousness! You’ll have your guns shortly! Just be sure to give me the credit and the credits when the job’s through!”

Then, Skidder turned and walked out with as much dramatic dignity as he could before scurrying off to find an mercenary he could trust to not get too curious about his soon-to-be cargo.

Star Wars - Lawless Galaxy

Paradise
The Tipsy Rancor, dive bar

Skidder just quietly sipped his Kowakian Rum while the woman at the bar demolished two of the more stupid patrons hanging around. He made sure that he had his back to one of the corners and his eyes on an exit just in case any real trouble started up. Taking in a barfight or two was okay, especially since he was just killing time until whatever errand the pleasure ship's owner had summoned him for began. It wasn't like anyone had any cause to pick a fight with Skidder right now either, and if some old grudge showed up looking to punch his lights out he could easily slip under the table and scurry for the exit while the Wookiee bouncer played interference. He was pretty sure the big fuzzy treeman would step in if any such trouble came Skidder Grace's way, after all he was the Best Gun-Runner in Hutt Space and the big bossman of this place had sent for him personally. They did have something of an officially unofficial business relationship of course!

So for now he just sipped his drink, waited to be called up, and kept his eye on the woman who looked like a bar-hopper and fought like a killer.

Star Wars - Lawless Galaxy

Skidder Grace, Arms Dealer

Name: Skidder Grace

Species: Human

Age: 24

Appearance: Skidder is a young man of inestimable, undeniable average-ness for a human, a median made flesh. He's neither short nor tall, neither fat nor skinny, of a middling complexion that could be a tanned whiteness or a very light darkness. He keeps his hair cropped short, practically buzzed to the scalp, to avoid the filth and parasites that came with a childhood homeless on Nar Shadda. Most notably Skidder has a face people tend to think they might've seen somewhere although they're rarely sure if it was just in passing in a crowd.

Skidder tends to wear a medium length, brown coat because it keeps the muck and acid rain off, is easy to wash and helps him conceal his personal weapons and blaster-resistant vest. He also wears thick boots toe-capped with durasteel, mostly because of one too many accidents loading up heavy crates of blasters but also because of the occasional need to kick beings in their shin-equivalents and run. He has a set of goggles on his head more often than not. Magna-gloves usually complete his outfit, both preventing fingerprints and handy for a variety of tasks and tricks. It's all an ensemble designed to be distinctive enough while blending in and still being functional.

Skidder's teeth are his one distinguishing feature, bright and shining white in spite of a life in a planet-wide slum. As a result skidder smiles easily and often, though as much because he's under the impression that life's playing a private joke on him at all times and he may as well roll with it as out of a sense of genuine friendliness. He smiles when he's nervous or afraid too, though then it looks closer to an animal baring its teeth.

Faction: Independent, but associated with The Golden Exchange

Equipment:

Skidder's Coat-A seemingly ordinary brown coat, it has a small number of hidden flaps and straps for hiding backup weapons and small tools including one up each sleeve for a knife or holdout pistol released with a twist and drop of the wrist.

Blast Resistant Vest- usually kept hidden under his coat, it can lessen damage from blaster bolts to the chest from nonlethal to excruciating and prevent most physical, kinetic damage from getting through easily enough. However its light weight, concealed nature and lack of restriction to movement means his limbs and head are unprotected and it'll never stop blaster damage outright like most armor.

DC-17 Hand Blaster- An old but well-maintained blaster pistol from the days of the Grand Army of the Republic and Skidder's main weapon. Powerful enough to outmatch some carbines in spite of its small size, Skidder got it as a reward for spotting an assassination attempt on his old boss and has carried it ever since.

EC-17 Hold-Out Blaster-Skidder's primary backup pistol concealed up the sleeve of his jacket, it's mainly good for close range surprises and is concealed up the right sleeve of his jacket.

Q2 Hold-Out Blaster- A pistol small enough to conceal in his palm and stashed in Skidder's right boot as a weapon of last resort or covert use. It holds enough of a charge to be used for six shots before the specialized battery needs to be swapped.

Stunstick-A smaller version of the typical stun baton, concealed up Skidder's left sleeve. He usually deploys it to give himself an advantage if things come to hand-to-hand fighting so he can quickly incapacitate whoever's about to pummel him with a quick smack or prod, or else uses it to knock out enemies from behind when a blaster set to stun is too loud.

Vibroknife- a small blade in a concealed sheath in Skidder's right boot, used as much as a cutting tool as it is a weapon, but still a handy last ditch weapon if close-up fights seem imminent and he can't pull off a blaster shot or a hit with the stun-stick.

Magna-Gloves-A pair of gloves capable of strongly adhering to and attracting metallic objects. They're useful for gripping and climbing but also stealing things from a distance or grabbing items that are out of reach among other things. As a bonus, they prevent his fingerprints from getting all over the merchandise.

Durasteel-capped boots-Skidder's current boots, with toes reinforced by durasteel plating and a extra space in each for concealed weaponry. They're handy in case he happens to drop a crate full of blasters on his toe, or if he needs to get a weapon into a room without his jacket before kicking a thug hard enough to win a fight without breaking his foot

Skidder's Goggles- Mostly there for eye protection and a zoom-and-enhance function good for examining his merchandise.

Skills:

Sharp Eyes-Skidder's got unusually good perception, especially when it comes to noticing things like the fine details of weaponry or what sort of weapons a person might reasonably be hiding on them. A life spent mostly on the street means he's also a decently good judge of when someone's bluffing or likely to actually draw weapons on him, and good eyesight makes him that much better of a shot when he decides he has no choice but to fire back in response.

Good Hands-Skidder's always had both uncannily fast reflexes for a normal human and very steady, controlled hands. As a boy he first noticed it when trying to help his father perform custom modifications on guns in the family's workshop, but it's come in handy for everything from performing sleight-of-hand to picking pockets. It also means that he's very good at managing a fast and accurate quick-draw with his blaster pistols under pressure, a skill that's saved his life more than once and remains his primary strategy if there's an imminent fight he can't run away from.

Expert Athlete and Acrobat- Skidder often maintains that the most important part of being a coward is the ability to run away effectively. To that end he's not only a very good runner in terms of getting up to speed quickly and maintaining it, but also able to quickly leap, climb and tumble with skills akin to parkour when it comes to maneuvering through his environment. For all his lack of bodily strength in a fight he can pull off some fairly impressive feats of acrobatics and athletics, usually in the name of running away from a fight.

Keen Businessman- Skidder's got a practically encyclopedic knowledge of common weapons and good knowledge of some rarer ones thanks to a childhood raised by a weapons engineer and blaster designer parents, followed by spending most of his teenage and young adult years working for a senior arms merchant and gun runner. In addition, he's got a fairly good sense of how to conduct business in the often morally hazy and dangerous world of arms dealing in Hutt Space along with the sort of people skills that entails.

Weaknesses:

Coward- Although Skidder would argue that this is in fact his greatest strength, he'll in no way dispute that he has nerves of plastoid and a heart to match. He'd much rather avoid unnecessary danger and negotiate or run with fighting as a last resort. Even then, he'll almost always try to end fights as quickly as possible whether that's through pragmatic winning or creating an opening to run. Skidder has his integrity and knows the value of loyalty and friendship in business and on the street, he just doesn't see why he should be killed or tortured over it all.

No Hand-To-Hand Skill-Somewhat related to his attitude on fighting, Skidder has only one option when that comes to a close-in battle and that's to fight as dirty as possible. He has no real skill with his fists or any other part of his body and only average strength. In terms of blades or other close-in weapons he's only as 'skilled' as the average Nar Shadda street thug which is to say he prefers to hit people with them just once before anyone realizes what's in his hand, even better if they don't see him coming at all. If any of that isn't enough he's well-aware that he's finished.

Gloryhound- As much of an expert as he is on the Fine Art of Cowardice, Skidder has a certain longing for the spotlight at times that tends to push him into danger in spite of his more 'reasonable' nature. His goal is to become the finest arms dealer in all of Hutt Space and when he isn't honestly declaring himself 'The greatest coward in the Galaxy' instead, he has the braggadocio and casual swagger to match.

History:

Skidder Grace's parents Elden and Iris both worked as weapon designers for some of the shadier weapons development programs that hosted themselves in Nar Shadda due to the area's relatively lax standards on corporate ethics and regulations compared to the wider galaxy. As a result Skidder grew up fascinated by the world of weapons technology his family surrounded him in and would often watch his father perform custom adjustments for some of the higher profile bounty hunters and 'wealthy, upstanding residents' of the Smuggler's Moon for extra cash or family favors. It was a surprisingly happy childhood for a crime-ridden, polluted urban hell of a moon, and Skidder even dreamed of becoming a professional weapon designer himself someday and working for or even owning one of the big megacorporations that contracted out from Nar Shadda, or perhaps crafting individual weapons for persons of high standing in Nar Shadda's very public criminal underworld.

It wasn't until Skidder was fourteen years old that he experienced firsthand just what sort of pain his family's work brought other people. one of Nar Shadda's many more local Hutt crime lords was able to trace a blaster pistol used in a failed assassination back to Skidder's father. Enraged enough not to care about the Grace family's corporate and underworld contacts, the Hutt had their home blown up and had Skidder and his parents brought to him to interrogate them about the identity of the assassin. His father Elden's brave refusal to give up any of his contacts to the Hutt, and the horror that followed, became Skidder's most vivid and painful memory. After his parents died he broke effortlessly and confessed every detail he could think up, and was rewarded by being tossed out into Nar Shadda's filthy and unforgiving streets to die rather than live as a slave. He decided then and there that he'd never be as stupid as his father was and that he'd rather live a coward than die for nothing.

Skidder spent about a year on the streets of Nar Shadda, often struggling against other homeless and orphaned beings for survival. He failed at simply picking through refuse and castoff from the more fortunate for food and supplies, as there was always someone bigger, stronger or meaner who could beat him away and get there first. Picking pockets was more viable for him but had even more risk, considering law on Nar Shadda was all-too-often entirely self-provided with deadly force at worst. To supplement his tiny income when he wasn't daring his way through snatch-and-grab operations, the young thief turned his hands and eyes toward running small games of skill and chance along with little showings of sleight of hand for often tense, drunk or bored mercenaries, smugglers and bounty hunters who passed through Nar Shadda's streets not to mention the more well-off street scum who'd managed to survive better than he did and needed distractions too.

It was all simple stuff at first, guessing games between a mixed set of three Sabbac Cards, switching a bit of trash around under three cups and the like. Eventually as he got to know the passersby better by sight Skidder would see if he could guess how many weapons someone had hidden on their person or integrated into their armor and where. That trick happened to make him fairly popular, especially with his most frequent 'customer', a drunk Dug with a gambling problem who thought it was hilarious to see a human kid pulling off minor circus tricks and swindles for food and money on the street.

He brought Skidder to his boss, the gun-runner and part-time legitimate arms dealer Quan Terrano and convinced him to take Skidder on as part-lookout, part gang mascot and general extra set of hands at 15. From there, he advanced slowly through the ranks over the course of the next eight years. He was still cowardly and pragmatic at best, but his growing skill with a gun and head for weapons meant he was nevertheless steadily promoted and integrated into Quan's deals, especially in matters of authenticating and pricing weapons. Nevertheless, he wanted more out of life and his many years as lieutenant in an arms dealer's organization inspired him towards ambitions of becoming the supplier for enough rich and powerful people to guarantee him a life of ease and security.

Skidder got his chance in the form of a shipment of rare Mandalorian weapons he was brought in to authenticate. He quickly realized that they were all absolutely exquisite knockoffs, of a quality that would pass inspection under all but the most careful eyes. He didn't reveal the deception to his boss, instead taking the information regarding the knockoff weapons and their source to The Golden Exchange, hoping to barter information on the existence of not only the cache of knockoff guns but their no doubt highly proficient creator for a ship and stock of his own to sell as an independent arms dealer.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

April 1st, 2020
Hub City Country and Polo Club

Tim always found it a little hard to believe that there was a part of Hub City where you could tear around a field on horseback just for fun without the risk of accidentally trampling some hobo looking for a place to sleep, but then again the armed guards out front probably had something to do with it. The whole thing made Tim feel pretty uneasy and reflective whenever he entered the place, considering it was a pretty solid reminder of how weird and lucky his whole life was that parts of it had to be backed up by guards visibly packing heat.

That feeling usually faded pretty fast though, considering Tim had been coming here for as long as he could remember and some of the staff here had even known his father when he was Tim's age. Beside, Tim liked Polo a lot. Sure, it was the ultimate rich boy sport so it meant getting matched up with some of the more obnoxious kids from school and dressing like even more of a dweeb to ride, but it was also riding around on horses while hitting stuff with a hammer and that was undeniably awesome. Plus, it had good food. So all in all even if by the end of the day he was usually too worn out to move, Tim really liked going there.

"Son, I need to talk to you about some things..."

Except on days when his Dad used it as a staging ground to start conversations he was uncomfortable with. Then he definitely hated it. He was too tired to really argue or be evasive since they were sitting down at a table after more than half an hour's worth of chukkers, probably just as planned.

"Look, it's about all the fights you've been getting into.

"Dad this is a crappy April Fools' joke-"

"-Not my worst, but before you say anything else I want you to listen. Just think about the kind of people we are, the way we raised you. My love of a good lawyer joke aside, part of why I love your mother is that she's probably one of the last honest lawyers in the whole city. She believes in justice coming from something more important than your fists and you know that already. At my job, what people choose to say and when and how they choose to say it, well that makes or breaks just about everything. The power and value of words, reasoning and truth are important to this family. What I'm trying to say is if you see something really bad happening, I only want you resorting to violence when everything else fails."

"If you didn't want me to fight, how come you had me learn how? If I can stop something right now shouldn't I do it?"

"You were supposed to learn to protect yourself, not beat up kids whose parents should be doing a better job. I had you take the sort of lessons you did because the world is a big, unpredictable place with even more unpredictable people in it, this city especially and I want you prepared for the worst outcomes. But I also want you to try for the best outcomes."

Tim just kept quiet, irritated at being sermonized at but not really able to find anything to disagree about.

Anyways, letcturing agitates my sweet-tooth. Lemme see if they got any new cake in, or maybe some ice cream."

"Aren't you supposed to be watching your blood sugar?"

"What your mom and my pre-diabetes don't know won't hurt either of them. Besides ya gotta live while you can, kiddo!"

Tim couldn't help smiling and decided that was one thing they could agree on for now.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

March 12th, 2020
McClellan Residence, A Prison of His Own Making

Tim didn't think being suspended for a few days was much of a punishment at first. Considering the way his mom had gone full lawyer and stormed out of the principal's office threatening to ruin Lloyd Senior's family and the school for apparently being fine with letting his son assault a student attending on a scholarship if Tim's punishment went further than that, maybe it wasn't really meant to be one. Still, being stuck in the house all day with no one around for two days running was starting to get boring. His parents had locked his tablet up in a chest in their room to 'teach him a lesson on solving his problems with violence first' even if they might agree with his reasons for doing it. He'd been thinking about all of it a lot when he wasn't distracting himself with his phone or TV.

What was the point talking things out with people like that? You had to stop them from hurting people first and then maybe you could talk with them about not being a complete-

*bbzt!*

Tim checked his phone, more desperate than he thought he'd be for reciprocated contact from the outside world. It was Elliot. Tim thought he might have given Elliot his phone number before he'd gotten called out over the PA. Maybe he'd gotten it off of someone in class.

So how'sprison?

Tim was typing up a response, already grateful his parents hadn't tried taking away his phone so they could still contact him for emergencies.

Help me break out? I'm bored:

R u kidding?! u're lucky u didn't get x-pelled! I didn't think ne1 could get away with smthing like that and u're only gone 4 a few days!

Yeah I guess that's true. mom's a lawyer and dad works for KBEL the broadcasting company. Think they threatened to do legal stuff and spread it all over the news.-Better not say he was vice-chairman. It was the kinda thing that made friendships weird. Anyways, time to change the subject-About the news you think Lady Arcana really fried the police commish?

Ionno, it's sus. She could just gank him whenev no need 2b sneaky. Arcana doesn't kill NEway.

Yeah I mean she didn't even kill that Nazi dude and he prob deserved it. It's the kinda thing that knocks her out for the spot for #1 hero

Wut?! No way! Arcana's the gr8est!

You're crazy! I mean the Question's cool and mysterious and old school and awesome! Sure he's really just a Hub City guy who fights local crime but he's probably the closest thing we have to the classic Actor Activists from waaay back and being a normal dude fighting for the everyman in Hub just makes him cooler! Plus he's supposed to be a crazy good detective! Then you've got Grim in Gotham, who's amazing if at least even half the rumors are true AND they aren't afraid to off criminals who deserve it! They probably deserve the number 1 spot more than Arcana does! You have that Superman guy in New York too but he kinda seems like a massive jerk who doesn't care if he wrecks the city while he does his thing right? I dunno if he's a hero or just a guy doing what he feels like so Arcana's above him at least. I guess you hear some stories about that Vinestalker thing occasionally showing up to do hero stuff but isn't that more of a bigfoot or a loch ness monster deal so I don't think he counts. So I mean sure Arcana's probably the most powerful real hero in the world and she's cool but she takes it way too soft on bad guys who deserve it. I guess I'd give her like the number 3 spot so far but there's probably better heroes out there and new heroes keep showing up right?

aaaand that killed the convo pretty quick. Tim should've known better than to hit Elliot with a wall-of-text rant on superheroes when he probably would've just been like 'I still like LA tho'. after the first sentence and been fine. Tim sighed and went over to the indoor hutch where he kept the rabbit his parents had picked up for him one day, just because they felt like doing something nice, according to his Mom.

"Hey at least I don't have to worry about you judging me for beating up bullies or getting hyper about heroes, right Hoppy?"

Still, if had a chance Tim would love to really be a hero and not just watch them. He'd do way more than just stop some kid from getting beat on. It'd be great. If only.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

12:07 AM, March 28th
Warehouse District; Hub City, Illinois

It had taken some time for Bruce to find a suitable empty space in a city like Hub. Still, he'd persevered and worked to find a warehouse that was reasonably clean, not currently in use and not cluttered with too much wastage. The end result was this place, where he'd carried the Question before laying him out on an old, disused couch without too many stains, waiting for him to eventually wake.

---

6:31 AM

His dreams had started out pleasantly, memories of his more pleasant days at the orphanage. Playing tag, climbing the trees, baseball. It was nice, reliving it all again.

However, Oscar Ellison was never the most lucky guy. It wasn't too long before they got worse.

Days spent going hungry in his dingy apartment, working long hours and getting paid the minimal amount, all the while repeating to himself in his mind that 'it'll all be worth it, it'll all be worth it'. Patrolling the freezing streets, beating criminals senseless. Searching through a dumpster for evidence, 'this is the cook's dump site,' and finding that evidence but also discovering a deceased infant, wrapped in a plastic bag and decaying vegetable matt-

With a shuddering breath, the Question awakened, jolting straight up. He looked around, whilst standing up. "Where am I?" he muttered to himself.

Bruce looked up from where he'd been meditating in anticipation of Question regaining consciousness.

"A space I prepared for emergencies. I thought it would be better than leaving a masked man unconscious on the street. So, right before you passed out you decided to accept my training. Do you still want to do this, or was it a decision made from sleep deprivation?"

It all came back to the masked vigilante. He mulled it over in his head. He was strong, but one of these days he could be taken down. He needed the training. "... Right. I still accept it."

Bruce grinned at the confirmation and sprung up from the lotus position with a surprising lack of stiffness, holding a hand out to help Question off of the old couch "In that case, shall we start now?"

The Question gladly accepted the man's hand, using it to pull himself off the couch. "Now? ... Hm, I suppose there's no better time."

After he pulled the masked vigilante up, he lead him to a cleared off space with some boxes and old pieces of pipe cleared away to form a wide circle, on which a number of mattresses had been thrown down to make improvised crash-mats. "First, I need to see what I'm working with when you're not about to pass out. So...set yourself up and attack me. Don't hold back, or we won't get anywhere."

Throwing off his hat and trench coat, the Question moved into a fighting stance. "You sure? Look kinda old, but then again..." He would then run forward, having talked in an attempt to distract his new mentor, trying to deliver a cross punch to the man's face.

Bruce simply stepped in as The Question rushed him, grabbed his arm while shifting it off-course and tugging him off balance, then pivoted his hips into The Question and threw him to the ground. "Good. No hesitation, and decent punching technique. But you've been fighting untrained thugs and mafiosi used to punching down for too long."

One minute he was about to land an easy shot, the next he was on his back whilst his teacher gave a quick analysis of what he did. "Shit." Question bounced back up, getting into a fighting stance again. "Alright, that was just a warm up." He began to slowly inch away, aiming to grab one of the pipes and throw it at the man.

"... Time for the real show." As quickly as he could, the masked detective grabbed a pipe off the ground and threw it at his opponent's arm.

Bruce shifted slightly to the side and to prove a point, caught the pipe as it would have sailed by him. "A good improvisation, but too slow. Thought must flow instantly to action as soon as a strategy is formed, or hesitation will bring failure." He briefly flourished the pipe enough to show he would have no problems using it before letting it go.

Question ran this through his head, not even giving a nod or a "yes" before picking up one of the mattresses used as makeshift crashpads, and pushing it as fast as he could towards Bruce before trying to pin the man with it.

Bruce allowed himself to be bowled over by the mattress, but as he fell he rolled back and kicked upwards with his legs, turning the weight of himself, the mattress and the Question into power for a sacrifice throw propelled by his kick.

"Got you no-AAAAAAAH!" The Question yelled as he went flying with the mattress. He hit the ground, the mattress landing on top of him. After a moment of resting, he pushed it off of himself, rising up once more. "Looks like improv won't help. Why don't we just handle this the old fashioned way?" He asked, whilst rolling up his sleeves.

By this time, Bruce had jumped back to his feet and now stood in a neutral stance, one hand out in the typical 'bring it on' gesture and clearly enjoying himself. "I'm looking forward to it."

Despite himself, the vigilante let out a chuckle. "Heh. Bring it on, old man." He said, amusement evident in his voice. He would pull a quick stutterstep, before advancing at a slow pace. Once he was only two yards away from Bruce, he would throw two quick jabs at the older man's abdomen.

Bruce slapped both low jabs down and away with open hands while stepping in toward Question, then flung one hand at the vigilante's face to try and get him to step back or shift his weight to lean away, before scything in with his foot to try and trip the masked man up.

Rather than lean away from the hand, the Question brought up his own hand to block it. However, when Bruce scythed the masked man's foot, he began to fall back. He managed to catch himself, though as he tried to regain his balance he was open to an attack.

Bruce simply pushed forward and tucked his in the arm he'd struck with, launching off his rear foot as he half-tackled, half shoved at the Question's center of balance with his forearm and shoulder, looking to send him crashing to the ground again in the instant he was off his footing.

Needless to say, the Question fell once more. "... Okay, you win." He said, pulling himself back up. "That give you a good enough idea of my fighting style?"

Bruce seemed pretty content as he watched the Question pick himself up, though he had obviously enjoyed the little bout. "Definitely rough, but you have good instincts and quick wits. With more training and a more diverse set of tools, you could become formidable."

He paused for a moment and looked the Question over.

"But first, we need to do something about your conditioning. A life of sugar cubes and...office work? It makes for a poor foundation."

"Poor foundation? Sorry to break it to you, but I kinda need a job to keep afloat, and the sugar cubes... Well, they hit the blood stream quicker than coffee." Question replies, picking up and putting on his hat, before picking up his trench coat and throwing it over his shoulder.

Bruce couldn't stop a certain amount of amusement from showing on his face at the Question's reply. "If that's the case, I'll simply have to make you work twice as hard as I would anyone else when you aren't busy destroying your body."

Fate/esoterica

Archer

Dialogue Styling Red | Thought Styling Red Italics

---

Archer had underestimated Lancer, both her resolve and her remaining power. Now as she closed the gap between them, her overwhelming power would surely bear down on him and kill him. It was his fault for being so foolish, allowing himself to be swayed by momentary melancholy and thoughts of the past. What he'd seen was a coincidence, preying on his foolish sentimentalism. Well, this was what he deserved for abandoning pragmatism and fighting with honor, after all.

Very well, Lancer. It seems you've earned this victory. It's a shame. I would have liked to experience this war a little longer.

Just as Lancer was about to close in, Archer felt the impossible-to-deny tug of a Command Seal, calling him back to his Master. Before he could be struck down by her final attack, Archer vanished from before Lancer's eyes back to his Master's side, his normally stoic or smug expression replaced by one of disbelief.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

Basic Information
=========
Superhero/villain Name: Formerly 'Young Dragon'
Civilian Name: Bruce Phoenix/Lim Fenghuang
Origin city/Planet: Born in San Francisco, CA
Hometown: Wanderer
Sex: Male
Race: Asian
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 141 lbs
Age: 90 Birth Date: August 8th, 1930
-----
Costumed Appearance: None
Civilian Appearance:

My Hider

Icon: (Symbol, logo, or trademark symbolizing the persona they undertake; like Flash's lightning bolt, Batman's Bat, or Superman's emblazoned S.)
Costumed Personality: No different than normal.
Civilian Personality: Bruce tries his best to remain calm and meditative and project the outward appearance of a friendly, middle aged man just trying to get along with everyone and offer advice and help when it's needed. His goal is to find worthy students among the new generation of heroes and mentor them in both combat and if necessary, a larger ethos or philosophy of heroism, and to that end he tries his best to be what he feels his students need him to be. However he still has deep and painful regrets about the end of the previous age of heroes and his failure to do anything about it, and hopes that he can help shape this new one into something better and less ultimately dark. Bruce also still has a strong drive toward heroics, and while he's normally happy to leave things to younger heroes, if he feels it's necessary he's more than happy to step in and show the world some old-fashioned heroism.
----
Super abilities:
-Skills:
Master Martial Artist-Bruce Phoenix is a master of a seemingly impossible array of martial arts including Jujitsu, Karate, every form of Shaolin Kung Fu, every form of Wudang Kung Fu, Taijiquan, Kali, Kempo, Muay Thai, Western Boxing and Savate. He has also studied the use of numerous systems for martial arts weapons and is skilled in improvising weapons of his own when necessary.

Highly Skilled Acrobat-a childhood with two stars of the Peking Opera and a lifetime of training since ensured that Bruce Phoenix is an excellent acrobat, whether for show, running across rooftops or outmaneuvering opponents in unexpected ways.

Polyglot-due to both his travels and his advanced age, Bruce has learned to speak numerous languages fluently. Specifically he can speak English, Mandarin, Cantonese and Fujianese dialect groups of Chinese, Central Tibetan, Japanese, French and some Spanish and Arabic.

Some Academic Knowledge of Magic-While he has no potential to actually manipulate magical forces, Bruce's studies in Nanda Parbat gave him some knowledge and insight into the practices of magic and the nature of the supernatural, though he's hardly an expert by any means.

Skilled Actor and Performer-Because of his childhood of training to rejoin the Peking Opera and a lifelong personal interest, Bruce is a fairly skilled singer, dancer and actor though his style may be a bit out of date.

-Powers:
Peak Physical Fitness-Thanks to a combination of rigorous training, meditation and internal chi manipulation Bruce has maintained perfect physical fitness and a fair degree of youth in spite of his technically being a nonagenarian. He can lift over 400 pounds (More more with use of his Chi), sprint for marathon distances without tiring and take a punch from a professional boxer without slowing down.

Chi Manipulation-Having been trained in the esoteric arts of true chi manipulation in Nanda Parbat, Bruce can use his body's own natural reservoir of chi to briefly boost himself to truly superhuman levels of physical ability, accomplishing feats like lifting a car, deflecting a bullet (though not stopping sustained gunfire) and leaping small buildings in a single bound or denting solid steel. He can also use chi to heal himself or others of injuries or toxins if he's able to concentrate, and can use the expanded awareness he's gained along with this control to sense emotions and certain unusual types of energy, though the fainter either is the harder such a thing becomes.
-Gadgets:
-Weapons:
Civilian Occupation: Wanderer, Adventurer, Teacher.
---------
Biography

Character History/Origin: Bruce Phoenix was born in San Francisco, California in 1930 when his parents, who were both involved in the attempted internationalization of Peking Opera, were on their first ever American tour. As a result they stayed behind in America to raise their son. They hoped he would someday become the first American Born Chinese man to be a major star of their beloved art form, hopes that became more fervent when the Japanese shut down nearly all Peking Opera schools in 1931. They had his name recorded as Bruce Phoenix, for its American sound and feel and the surname's auspicious nature.

Although he was raised with far more kindness by his own parents than any traditional Opera school would have allowed, Bruce's childhood was focused around cultivating the key skills of singing, dancing, acting, acrobatics and martial arts from a young age. The last was what Bruce excelled in the most, driving himself beyond his parents' expectations in his appetite for learning combat even off the stage. His parents were proud even as they had to split their time between difficult day-jobs and his training, but dreams of opera stardom weren't what motivated their son.

Instead, Bruce dreamed of belonging to an entirely different profession of flashy, costumed fighters: The Actor Activists. They were heroes who fought war and corruption in battles more exciting and dramatic than he could find in any opera and the best part was they were real, here and now! He idolized the Impossibles for their role in the war effort, especially Jade Mantis, a Chinese immigrant like his parents who stood and fought with the Impossibles as an equal.

That was why in 1945 with the war having just drawn to a close, 15-year-old Bruce Phoenix ran away from home to try and convince Jade Mantis, then a returning war hero, to take him on as an apprentice. It took rescuing his hero and earning a name for himself in the papers as the teenage vigilante 'Young Dragon' before he convinced the veteran Actor Activist to take him on as a sidekick, but they adventured together throughout the late 40's and 50s, with Bruce expected to take up Jade Mantis's role if the latter eventually retired. Bruce wanted more for himself, at least as far as the martial arts that had originally drawn him to heroism were concerned. inspired by his predecessor's tales of a mythical city in the Himalayas that the Axis tried to infiltrate during the war, Bruce left America in search of the lost city of Nanda Parbat in 1957, agreeing to take up the identity of Jade Mantis upon his return.

Even with directions from his mentor it still took Bruce two years of wandering through Asia to find the city, but the training it offered him was extraordinary. Nanda Parbat had been graced by a number of masters of the martial arts and their knowledge throughout the centuries. It took him seven more years until he felt he had learned enough from the monks to leave the hidden city in 1967, but the world Bruce found outside was far different from what he remembered. His old mentor and nearly all of the Impossibles were dead, Actor Activists were outlaws and the world's trust in America had been irreversibly shattered.

For decades after, Bruce wandered the world in disillusioned retirement, questioning the relevance of heroes to the modern age and the wisdom of Nanda Parbat, taking odd jobs and feeling joy only in practicing martial arts and adding to his repertoire of skills, always moving from one place to another before the decreased aging he gained from his experiences in the Himalayas became apparent.

Bruce didn't return to Nanda Parbat until the early 2000s, when the growing presence of terrorists in India and Pakistan motivated by religious extremism and later U.S. intervention made him concerned for the city's safety. There, he finally found out what had drawn so many great martial artists to the holy place, as Rama-Kushna and the monks offered him the spiritual guidance he needed to heal his broken soul while he guarded the sanctuary. Bruce's second stay there also helped inspire him to find new purpose in his life, and now he's set out into the world to find worthies among the new generation of heroes, so that they can both benefit from his experience and avoid his mistakes.

Optional information
----------
Nemesis: None Yet
Allies: Formerly Jade Mantis
Team: Formerly a junior affiliate to the Impossibles.

Heroes Reborn - A DCAU Roleplay (Always open!)

March 10th, 2020
Hub City Secondary Learning Academy

Man, today had started out so ordinary. Get up, put on the uniform the maid pressed and laid out the day before, rush through breakfast alone as usual for Tuesdays while the driver reminded him what time his parents would be home at (His father was working late, as usual, his mother would be back sooner) and whether there was any change in plans that'd throw off his pickup time for school or anything (No, but would Tim at least try to be out front early so the school didn't make him circle the car around while he waited?) then spent the remaining time reading (Mostly switching between Dune and a history Ebook on ancient Egypt) and toying with his phone (random animal videos, obviously.) until it was time to go.

The first class of the day had been typical too, and Tim had gone through all of it almost on autopilot, or at least it seemed like it, because now-

"What are ya gonna do about it, pleb?"

Now Lloyd Johnson had just knocked the new scholarship kid onto his back over a stupid water fountain, and Tim felt way too angry to not give the situation one-hundred percent of his attention.

Teachers at the SLA didn't have their own rooms to teach out of and kids usually stayed in an assigned homeroom, so between class rotations you got breaks where you were allowed to hang out in the hallway, go talk with your friends, have a drink or a snack or whatever. There were even little nooks with couches or something at the corners of the halls for it. Tim had been sitting at one with his tablet when the scholarship kid...Tim thought his name was Ellian? Elios? Anyway, when he'd got stiff-armed onto the ground in the middle of using a drinking fountain by Bargain Bin Malfoy.

Lloyd Johnson was apparently the kind of tool who earnestly used terms like 'pleb' out loud along with being richer and more spoiled than a fourteen-year-old jar of mayo. He was one of those guys who grew a lot and early too, so he was built like a blond gorilla. Tim figured Lloyd probably had a brain to match, but King Kong Senior had the school board and the principal in his pocket, and everybody knew it.

Elijah- no, no that probably wasn't it- anyway he'd only been here since the end of Christmas break, for winning a raffle or a scholarship award and then passing some kind of test. Tim had heard he was from Hell's Corner or maybe the Wedge, but he didn't think anybody really knew. He kept to himself too much for anyone to know. They just knew he was poor- well no, just poorer than everyone else-and that he was smart. So now Lloyd Everybody-Knows-That-Name-Means-Penis was making a big show of pushing him around and hogging the fountain. Tim could hear Lloyd spewing crap since the eighth grader was making it easy on purpose.

"Can't imagine what you'd want with the water anyways. I'm sure you wouldn't understand, but it takes a more refined palate to appreciate the quality and unique taste of excellent water like this!"

"You mean the kind that tastes like shit?"

Tim hadn't even realized he'd moved from where he was and said it until Lloyd turned around and glared at him while the crowd paused to ooh and ahh. Stupid, stupid mouth. He didn't regret doing it, but why couldn't he have come up with a better line? Tim could see the rusty, thrown-poop-crusted wheels turning in Lloyd's Big Ape Brain, he probably wasn't used to being mocked.

"Who are you? I wanna know your name before I feed you your teeth!"

At least they were both guilty of cliche one-liners. Tim wasn't on Lloyd's radar, that was good. Outside of school he'd won some fights with rich middle school D-bags, but this was probably the Dark Overlord Final Boss of rich middle school D-bags. Tim was going to need every advantage he could get.

"That's Tim McClellan! He knows kung fu and he's gonna kick your ass!"

Well, so much for that. He'd have to try and figure out who was being 'helpful' later. Right now he had Screw-The-Rules-I-Have-Money stalking toward him all slow and angry and menacing. Tim shifted his one leg into a better stance and waved his hands around like a guy in an old chop-socky movie and Lloyd put his own up and stepped back, hesitant and probably expecting some kind of knife hand chop or palm thrust or secret pressure point strike.

So Tim kicked him as hard as he could in the balls. When Lloyd started to doubl over, Tim grabbed him by his uniform, pulled him in and twisted to throw him to the floor.

Then went over and grabbed Elliot's hand- Elliot! That was his name!- and ran back toward the classrooms with him before Lloyd came to his senses enough to beat the tar out of both of them. Just in case. He was going to be in crazy amounts of trouble later.

But it was worth it to stop someone like that.