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Capes of Samekh - A Post-Worm RP

CALVIN BALL

"You might want to be careful with around there. The last one I threw was radioactive."

Hider

_{[ ♦ ] Bio}

---

♦ Name: Samantha Hobbes
♦ Age: 14
♦ Loyalty: Junior Guard
♦ Appearance: Samantha is a young girl who is small for her age, reaching just five feet in height and barely hitting the one hundred pound mark in weight. She has brown hair, brown eyes, and a thick pale scar that curls around her right eyebrow from the midpoint of the brow to the corner of her right eye-socket. Due to a more outdoorsy and active upbringing thanks to her parents Samantha prefers to wear clothes that lean towards activities; clothes such as t-shirts, tank tops, shorts, hiking boots, and jeans filling much of her closet. A majority of her clothing also tends towards red tones, a color she considers lucky. Her hair is currently cut short now that she has joined the Jr. Guard, and she has been outfitted with the Jr. Guard uniform that has been modified into a costume that faintly resembles her old pre Gold Morning uniform. Complete with two gold bands around each shoulder, one of which bares the pawn symbol of her rank in the Guard. Her mask is the only true carry over from her sort stint as a public cape, a strange square cut mask with expressive lenses given to her by a tinker friend before GM. The mask mimics the movement of her eyes and eyelids, giving her a wide range of expressions while in costume and even blinking in time with her.

[+]

Picture

♦ History:

[+]

Samantha Hobbes was born January 2001 and was raised primarily by a live in nanny until the age of ten, her parents often signing her up for camps, school trips, and daily adventures. Paying their way into the young girl's heart while focusing on their individual careers. Over the course of these many summers spent away from home Samantha picked up a few hobbies that she truly enjoyed, some of which included horseback riding, hiking, nature photography, and much to the panic of the councilors that had been in charge of her did manage to sneak out into the woods on more than one occasion to try and track down animals.

Near Midnight April 3rd 2012 The parents of Samantha Hobbes are awoken to the sound of their ringing phone. Her father, a prominent prosecution lawyer, answering it to find the head of the local Protectorate team on the other end of the line and clearly agitated. The hero, supported by the team thinker, has reason to believe that one of the villains who had recently been tried and sentenced to the the Birdcage was on the move and looking for revenge. The thinker was nearly certain that there would be an attack before sunrise and that if Samantha's family were to stay in their home there was no guarantee that any of them would survive. Shocked, Samantha's father asks what he should do and is informed that they were already sending their more mobile capes that way along with a PRT van as an escort. They would be taken to the local headquarters to be watched over and protected until the villain and his team were captured.
Samantha is awoken by her mother and told that they were taking a quick trip, they were going to be gone a couple of days and she shouldn't grab anything that she doesn't need. Confused and groggy the young girl nods and gets ready before being led out of the house and towards the family's car. Her mother makes sure she is buckled in and secure before closing the door, keeping her from noticing the trio of figures standing near the end of the driveway until she watches her father approach them. As he talks his voice muffled through the car window, but something about the way he was standing felt...wrong. But after a few seconds of tired puzzling Samantha recognizes them as the local Protectorate, and when the realization that they heroes sinks in Samantha feels a rush of excitement! Her excitement only growing as she saw one of them turn her way and wave, a woman in a silver costume whose lower body is a mess of silver sparks. It is not long after this that her father is climbing into the driver's seat and the heroes take their positions around the car with a PRT Van trailing behind them.
Minutes pass and Samantha starts to doze off, her face pressed against the window to keep an eye on the two heroes she could see, the woman with her sparkler flight and a man keeping pace with two telescoping limbs, steadily falling a few yards behind then bounding ahead of the vehicle in a single step over and over. It's like a dream. But something still seemed wrong to her despite the proximity of the heroes, a kind of tension that her parents had only ever had when they had come home one day to find the front door broken open and the house trashed. It was worrying enough that despite how tired she felt she just couldn't fall back asleep.
It was in this half asleep state that Samantha realized that the man with the tinker legs hadn't caught back up to the car in a few steps and for some reason her stomach went tight. "Mom wher-" She tried to ask, but then came a slam hard enough to jar the question from her mind. Her father wrestled with the wheel as the back end of the car was struck, pushing them towards the edge of the hillside road they had been traveling, bumper scraping against the metal guard rail. The sound of screeching tires and metal drowned out her own frightened scream as she watched an arm, darker than the night sky and as thick as a tree trunk reach out from the top of the PRT Van and grab the sparkling woman from the air. The arm sent the woman crashing down, aiming to use her as a bludgeon against the small sedan only to loose grip on her as she burst into a million sparks and poured from the villainous grasp. The hand, minus it's captive, continued on its path anyway. Striking the side of the car with enough force that Samantha's door flexed inward. And in the flash of a streetlight she could see that the arm was a mass of writhing serpent like creatures molded together to form a limb. She screamed again as a feeling of weightlessness overtook her. They were off the road, falling, then came the first jarring impact. The car slammed into the earth, Samantha's seat belt locking and causing her scream to cut off abruptly as it knocked the wind from her. For long seconds the world was a tumbling roaring swirl of confusion, she could hear her father yelling, her mother screaming and all her mind could do was try to sort out this spinning whirl of near death. Flashes of red, silver, and that shadowy arm, blurred past her shattered window. Powers at war while the world around her threatened to collapse and crush her at any second. And all Samantha could do was hold tight to her seat and gasp. Until with a flash she could see someplace else. Something else. When the dizziness of the extra dimensional vision had passed Samantha found herself hanging upside down from her seat, fingers itching to reach into another space. By the time she realized she had a power the other heroes had arrived as backup and managed to beat back the villains. The newly triggered parahuman and her parents were then transferred to the PRT Headquarters for medical attention.

The following year after the attack Samantha spent nearly every waking hour trying to find time to practice her ability, to try and get a handle on it before bringing it up to her parents. Often sneaking out of the house and finding a secluded location to work at taming the wild nature of her power. It was on one of these outings that she was discovered by a patrolling hero, the tinker that had been attacked first and injured on the attack on her family now fully recovered. He announced himself and offered to watch and see what she could do while sending a message to the PRT and her parents. Thanks to his discovery and assistance Samantha was offered a position in the Wards program, which she was happy to accept despite her parent's hesitance. She was admitted to the wards one week before her birthday in January 2013 and spent most of the time before gold morning training and pushing to be put to work. By the time of Gold Morning the newly mantled Calvin Ball had only two months of experience out patrolling behind her.

_{[ ♦ ] Personality}

---

♦ Motivation: Samantha's motivation is a very simple drive to make sure that the villians, like the ones that had attacked her family, would never feel like they had won. Her heroics are entirely in the service of this idea that the bad guys need to know that they will never permanently get the upper hand.

♦ Derangement: Due to the chaotic and often disastrous nature of her ability Samantha is often slow to commit to a course of action on her own. Indecision and panic easily settling in if she is given to long to think about a situation. This has bled over into her out of costume life and she can freeze if left to long with even a menu in her hand, constantly second guessing herself.

_{[ ♦ ]
Parahumanism}

---

♦ Skills:
-Knows how to work a climbing kit and harness from the rock climbing activities at camp.
-Can handle and ride a horse
-Knows many of the poisonous plants that can be found in North America from her guide books (On Bet for as useful as that is)
-Knows how to swim

♦ Classification: Blaster | Trump
♦ Mechanics: Calvin Ball's ability manifests as a smooth red sphere roughly the size of a basketball that looks as if it were made of wax. These spheres take a couple of seconds to form and fully power up, and Calvin Ball can "cook" them for longer to enhance the effect that is building inside. These orbs of power almost never contain the same effect twice or react the same way to the environment. They only know what the orb can do when they summon it and have to figure out how to use it in the moment. The effects contained within the power summoned orbs tend to be AOE and rarely linger for very long unless physical material is created. Effects this power has generated include a highly compressed ball of heated air, a ball of metal that bursts into pins, bursts of fire that vary in range of high heat and low shockwave to low heat and powerful shockwave, a ball of quickly dissipating radiation, ect. The effects of course being effectively limitless and random. The only control Calvin Ball has over the orbs is how they are thrown and how intense the burst effect will be upon creation. These orbs also burst in contact with with any surface when not in contact with Calvin Ball, allowing for only two be easily created and handled at once. Her shard also grants her a temporary immunity to her own effects upon the creation of the orbs so that any splash damage from the blast wont harm the host.

♦ Equipment: What sort of goodies do you have on you when you're in costume?

ITEM: Tinker Expression Mask (Gift from her Protectorate Teammate who is currently retired after being crippled on Gold Morning)

ITEM: Standard issue Junior Guard armor and equipment. (Ear piece and vest.)

Capes of Samekh - A Post-Worm RP

"You seem pretty powerful. Come, prove yourself."

Hider

_{[ ♦ ] Bio}

---

♦ Name: Basilisk (Real name unknown)
♦ Age: Early 20's (Real age unknown)
♦ Loyalty: Currently Idependant (Though he may be indirectly connected to The Lost)
♦ Appearance: Basilisk is a massive hulking brute in the most obvious of ways, nine feet tall at the top of his head and nearly three foot wide shoulder span. His body is heavily scaled in a scattered pebble like texture similar to that of an alligator. The reptilian hide is a dull green and mottled brown. Adorning his head and shoulders are a number of horn like spikes that press through the thick skin. Thin lips hide sharp fangs and each of his fingers are tipped with dagger like claws (That he takes the time to file down to dull points), behind him a thick tail extends nearly six feet behind him that can be whipped around quickly. Due to his massive size most of Basilisk's wardrobe is cobbled together out of numerous garments stitched together or custom made when he gets some spare cash. Usually he wears just a simple pair of shorts or pants.

[+]

♦ History:

[+]

Basilisk woke up like most of his kind, dazed and confused somewhere where people rarely set foot. His first memories of Earth Bet include the blistering heat of the Colorado prairie and the urge to find something or someone he had lost, though he couldn't remember what it was. Wandering through the dry grass the reptilian man tried to put to mind what had happened to him. All he could think of was that there had been a fight, one that he had soundly lost. And that loss sat uneasily in his mind until after nearly a week's worth of walking he stumbled across the small town of Haswell, Colorado. Startling the small population and gaining the attention of the single local hero within miles. A mover who mostly just chased down speeders with the local police to hand out speeding tickets. The fight was over in less than five minutes, and Basilisk felt a surge of gratification upon besting the man. He had learned what he could truly accomplish with his powers and had beaten another with their own abilities. The beast of competition within him was sated, and he spared the life of the small town hero. From there he made it his mission to find others, people with powers to shake the earth, he would find them and he would strike them down before him.

And for nearly four months Basilisk earned a name for himself, becoming a boogie man for capes that craved reputation over all other things. Hero and villain both, he tore them from their pedestals and left both their egos and bodies bruised and battered. He made his way east, planning on reaching New York where the biggest names lived drawn to the idea to challenging some of the strongest parahumans on the planet. Luckily for him he never made it to the coast. Passing through Tennessee the lone brute found himself surrounded by powered Fallen, eventually pinned and bound he was dragged to their temporary camp and subjected to hours of torture, his power dampened by one of the powered parahumans. Once the clan had had their fun with him they locked him in a barn for holding while they sent out for one of the members who could tame this monster. Later that night Basilisk awoke to the sounds of fighting, the Fallen having been taken by surprise when the owners of the farm they had taken over came back with their own powered backup. A green light eventually filled the barn, and Basilisk came face to face with his first ally. A teenage girl in punk attire who addressed herself as Blur. She worked him free and explained that they had taken out the power damper. Her friend outside was holding them off and it was time to go. He reluctantly agreed, but made a promise to himself that he was going to do as much damage as he could on their way out. The fight took nearly two hours before the Fallen were forced to retreat from the occupied space, and in that time Basilisk earned the respect of the two that had rescued him. He offered his company to them. And in doing so he was set on his path to gather a new sort of strength. Finding those that had the reputations as monsters, the ones that were dangerous and scared for their own lives. He found them, beat them if necessary, but instead of leaving them behind he offered his hand. Join him, and they would be safe. There would be a family.

At the height of his power Basilisk's gang, known as the Unbalanced Scales, had settled themselves as a mercenary team, focusing on collecting bounties. Working for those with the money to afford them they set about taking the most dangerous jobs they could. And extending the offer to join them to the monsters they were hired to find. By the time Gold Morning had happened Basilisk had nearly ten other parahumans working underneath him, loyal to the end of the world. Until they were scattered across the multiverse.

_{[ ♦ ] Personality}

---

♦ Motivation: Basilisk is a leader by nature, and after his encounter with the Fallen he found himself working to find those like himself. Powerful but alone. He saw that in numbers they were safe, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way. Before Gold Morning he would have liked nothing more than to keep recruiting, keep finding more people to invite to his family in exchange for their abilities. But now that his friend's of the past are gone he wants nothing more than to get them back.

♦ Derangement: Almost every Case 53 sent to Bet was programmed with a weakness. And Basilisk was no exception. Subconsciously he is driven to prove himself, to win against the most deadly of opponents and to dominate the weak around him. He does his best to suppress the later half of this personality trait, though a significantly tough looking opponent will strip him of most reasoning and he will want nothing more than to challenge them to a brawl.

_{[ ♦ ] Parahumanism}

---

♦ Skills: Basilisk is a decent strategist when he is thinking straight. Is a surprisingly comforting personality if one allows him to get close enough. And a damn good cook if he has a kitchen large enough for him to work in.

♦ Classification: Brute | Shaker

♦ Mechanics: Basilisk: Hulking Case 53 with a nearly nine foot tall frame. Covered in armored scales, thick skin, and heavy muscle, he is very difficult to harm due to the nature of his mutated biology. But his true power comes in when a determined individual actually manages to leave an injury. Whenever wounds are left in his flesh Basilisk’s body will begin to rapidly regenerate to repair the damage while any meat or blood that is removed from the bulk of his body quickly necrotizes then begins to rot. Releasing a noxious gas that is a bright green in color but not usually thick enough to obscure vision. This gas causes headaches, and nausea near instantaneously after being inhaled, then as more gas is inhaled muscles begin to tense and cramp up. If left inhaling the gas for to long (roughly five minutes) there will be a full body temporary paralysis until the gas works it's way out of their system. This can take anywhere from three to five hours depending on constitution. This effect also takes place when the gas has been exposed to open skin for extended periods of time.

Basilisk's strength is difficult to measure, but he has yet to find an opponent he could not lift (except for that guy whose power ment he couldn't be lifted) and has at his upper level lifted a tinker tech battlesuit that weighed just over three thousand pounds long enough for a teammate to remove the pilot.

Basilisk's physical nature lends itself to a more natural durability, thick scaled hide and dense muscle mass means getting a telling blow from any conventional bladed weapon or small arms shot is likely to do nothing more than annoy him. Higher caliber but still commercially available munitions can stumble and put a real damper on his mood. Most military grade heavy weaponry that isn't shrapnel based is what is going to put him on his ass as he works to heal.

His Regeneration is visibly fast, though not nearly Crawler levels of efficient. Bruises and deep internal damage heal fastest, while shallow cuts and surface level bleeding will take a few seconds (The power wanting to use the fumes as long as the damage isn't severe.) Lost limbs take roughly three hours to regrow back to 100% use and the whole time the wounded stump would be pouring out the toxic fumes.

♦ Equipment: What sort of goodies do you have on you when you're in costume?

ITEM: N/A

ITEM: N/A

Capes of Samekh - A Post-Worm RP

Basilisk

"You seem pretty powerful. Come, prove yourself."

Hider

_{[ ♦ ] Bio}

---

♦ Name: Basilisk (Real name unknown)
♦ Age: Early 20's (Real age unknown)
♦ Loyalty: Currently Idependant (Though he may be indirectly connected to The Lost)
♦ Appearance: Basilisk is a massive hulking brute in the most obvious of ways, nine feet tall at the top of his head and nearly three foot wide shoulder span. His body is heavily scaled in a scattered pebble like texture similar to that of an alligator. The reptilian hide is a dull green and mottled brown. Adorning his head and shoulders are a number of horn like spikes that press through the thick skin. Thin lips hide sharp fangs and each of his fingers are tipped with dagger like claws (That he takes the time to file down to dull points), behind him a thick tail extends nearly six feet behind him that can be whipped around quickly. Due to his massive size most of Basilisk's wardrobe is cobbled together out of numerous garments stitched together or custom made when he gets some spare cash. Usually he wears just a simple pair of shorts or pants.

[+]

♦ History:

[+]

Basilisk woke up like most of his kind, dazed and confused somewhere where people rarely set foot. His first memories of Earth Bet include the blistering heat of the Colorado prairie and the urge to find something or someone he had lost, though he couldn't remember what it was. Wandering through the dry grass the reptilian man tried to put to mind what had happened to him. All he could think of was that there had been a fight, one that he had soundly lost. And that loss sat uneasily in his mind until after nearly a week's worth of walking he stumbled across the small town of Haswell, Colorado. Startling the small population and gaining the attention of the single local hero within miles. A mover who mostly just chased down speeders with the local police to hand out speeding tickets. The fight was over in less than five minutes, and Basilisk felt a surge of gratification upon besting the man. He had learned what he could truly accomplish with his powers and had beaten another with their own abilities. The beast of competition within him was sated, and he spared the life of the small town hero. From there he made it his mission to find others, people with powers to shake the earth, he would find them and he would strike them down before him.

And for nearly four months Basilisk earned a name for himself, becoming a boogie man for capes that craved reputation over all other things. Hero and villain both, he tore them from their pedestals and left both their egos and bodies bruised and battered. He made his way east, planning on reaching New York where the biggest names lived drawn to the idea to challenging some of the strongest parahumans on the planet. Luckily for him he never made it to the coast. Passing through Tennessee the lone brute found himself surrounded by powered Fallen, eventually pinned and bound he was dragged to their temporary camp and subjected to hours of torture, his power dampened by one of the powered parahumans. Once the clan had had their fun with him they locked him in a barn for holding while they sent out for one of the members who could tame this monster. Later that night Basilisk awoke to the sounds of fighting, the Fallen having been taken by surprise when the owners of the farm they had taken over came back with their own powered backup. A green light eventually filled the barn, and Basilisk came face to face with his first ally. A teenage girl in punk attire who addressed herself as Blur. She worked him free and explained that they had taken out the power damper. Her friend outside was holding them off and it was time to go. He reluctantly agreed, but made a promise to himself that he was going to do as much damage as he could on their way out. The fight took nearly two hours before the Fallen were forced to retreat from the occupied space, and in that time Basilisk earned the respect of the two that had rescued him. He offered his company to them. And in doing so he was set on his path to gather a new sort of strength. Finding those that had the reputations as monsters, the ones that were dangerous and scared for their own lives. He found them, beat them if necessary, but instead of leaving them behind he offered his hand. Join him, and they would be safe. There would be a family.

At the height of his power Basilisk's gang, known as the Unbalanced Scales, had settled themselves as a mercenary team, focusing on collecting bounties. Working for those with the money to afford them they set about taking the most dangerous jobs they could. And extending the offer to join them to the monsters they were hired to find. By the time Gold Morning had happened Basilisk had nearly ten other parahumans working underneath him, loyal to the end of the world. Until they were scattered across the multiverse.

_{[ ♦ ] Personality}

---

♦ Motivation: Basilisk is a leader by nature, and after his encounter with the Fallen he found himself working to find those like himself. Powerful but alone. He saw that in numbers they were safe, and he would do everything in his power to keep it that way. Before Gold Morning he would have liked nothing more than to keep recruiting, keep finding more people to invite to his family in exchange for their abilities. But now that his friend's of the past are gone he wants nothing more than to get them back.

♦ Derangement: Almost every Case 53 sent to Bet was programmed with a weakness. And Basilisk was no exception. Subconsciously he is driven to prove himself, to win against the most deadly of opponents and to dominate the weak around him. He does his best to suppress the later half of this personality trait, though a significantly tough looking opponent will strip him of most reasoning and he will want nothing more than to challenge them to a brawl.

_{[ ♦ ] Parahumanism}

---

♦ Skills: Basilisk is a decent strategist when he is thinking straight. Is a surprisingly comforting personality if one allows him to get close enough. And a damn good cook if he has a kitchen large enough for him to work in.

♦ Classification: The GM will tell you what to put here after you power has been reviewed/approved.

♦ Mechanics: Basilisk: Hulking Case 53 with a nearly nine foot tall frame. Covered in armored scales, thick skin, and heavy muscle, he is very difficult to harm due to the nature of his mutated biology. But his true power comes in when a determined individual actually manages to leave an injury. Whenever wounds are left in his flesh Basilisk’s body will begin to rapidly regenerate to repair the damage while any meat or blood that is removed from the bulk of his body quickly necrotizes then begins to rot. Releasing a noxious gas that is a bright green in color but not usually thick enough to obscure vision. This gas causes headaches, and nausea near instantaneously after being inhaled, then as more gas is inhaled muscles begin to tense and cramp up. If left inhaling the gas for to long (roughly five minutes) there will be a full body temporary paralysis until the gas works it's way out of their system. This can take anywhere from three to five hours depending on constitution. This effect also takes place when the gas has been exposed to open skin for extended periods of time.

Basilisk's strength is difficult to measure, but he has yet to find an opponent he could not lift (except for that guy whose power ment he couldn't be lifted) and has at his upper level lifted a tinker tech battlesuit that weighed just over three thousand pounds long enough for a teammate to remove the pilot.

Basilisk's physical nature lends itself to a more natural durability, thick scaled hide and dense muscle mass means getting a telling blow from any conventional bladed weapon or small arms shot is likely to do nothing more than annoy him. Higher caliber but still commercially available munitions can stumble and put a real damper on his mood. Most military grade heavy weaponry that isn't shrapnel based is what is going to put him on his ass as he works to heal.

His Regeneration is visibly fast, though not nearly Crawler levels of efficient. Bruises and deep internal damage heal fastest, while shallow cuts and surface level bleeding will take a few seconds (The power wanting to use the fumes as long as the damage isn't severe.) Lost limbs take roughly three hours to regrow back to 100% use and the whole time the wounded stump would be pouring out the toxic fumes.

♦ Equipment: What sort of goodies do you have on you when you're in costume?

ITEM: N/A

ITEM: N/A

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Maxwell York (A.K.A Southpaw)

Name: Maxwell York
Alias: Southpaw
Age: 17
Alignment: Rogue
Loyalty: Currently Independent
Appearance: Average height and build (5’8” 135 lbs), olive brown skin, brown eyes, dark hair. Usually wears outfits that are comfortable and loose, such as a tank top and basketball shorts. His costume consists of a simple cowl mask that shows off his hair, a pair of black gloves with bands of metal across the knuckles to enhance non powered up punches, and a pair of shorts. While out in costume he is usually shirtless and bristling with scales across his chest.
History: Maxwell was not born into money, his parents loving but poor and his father a gambler by nature, something that he picked up in his younger years. He and his younger sister were raised on the concept that the only reliable thing in life was the luck that you made, putting in the effort to push themselves forward was the only way they were going to get anywhere. His father keeping him close while he worked so that he could pick up his trade as an electrician, and by fifteen he had picked up enough knowledge that he could understand how to set up and maintain wiring and repair some forms of electronics. But he knew that being an electrician wasn't something he wanted to spend his entire life stuck doing, so it was that when Maxwell saw the flyer in the school hallway for an after school boxing club he took the chance and signed up. And after a few months of training and some rather impressive bouts for someone so young he found that he had a knack for taking a beating. He continued boxing all the way into his senior year of high school, where unbeknownst to him his father had made a bet with his boss that his boy would make it to the national level. Not knowing that in early spring, a week and a half before the qualifiers an accident would befall Maxwell that would leave him nearly dead and lying in the hospital, swollen and unconscious after accidentally provoking a swarm of bees.

Trigger: Entomophobia your sister had told you, and with your allergies it made sense. Though admitting that you couldn't handle a stray house spider wasn't exactly easy. You were cautious, that was all. But not cautious enough it seemed... all it took was a misplaced step, tripping over a root in the path and you stumbled into the tree, your head colliding with something soft that crunched like paper. And less than a second later you could hear them. The buzzing of hundreds of angry bees, you'd smashed your head against a low hanging hive and now, well it wasn't going to be pretty. The first sting was near your elbow, and you yelped out in pain and swatted at the spot, your hand coming away smeared with the squashed remains of the bee. And then it was open season, like an army they swarmed down upon you, crawling across your skin until they could find a place to bury their killer stings. You'd never been one to panic, always able to stay on top of your emotions, but you could feel the fear welling in you. "Don't let them sting near your throat, your eyes, if you swell to much you will suffocate, protect with one hand crush with the other." You set to the task of crushing each and every insect as it stabbed you, you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. "It hurts. IT HURTS!" you yell, "STOP YOU LITTLE BASTARDS" but the little soldiers continued, their order was to protect the queen or die trying. One by one you killed them, rasping through a throat that wouldn't give you the oxygen you need. Fighting until with a sudden flash, you trigger.

Now worried what his boss might do when he couldn't pay up Maxwell's father sent his children to Denver to live with their aunt in her apartment. Just until he was able to find the money.

Personality

Motivations: Money, comfort, keeping his family safe. He's a pretty simple guy when it comes to what keeps him going.
Sexuality: Closeted Bisexual
Likes:

• His family
• Big paychecks
• Painting miniatures/making models
• Bubblegum (Always has some on him)
• Boxing
• Betting

Dislikes:

• Insects, spiders, creepy crawly things
• Being in someone's debt
• Cars (Gets carsick easily)
• Forced Drama

Derangement: Has a debilitating fear of insects, to the point where even the mention of them will make his skin crawl and push up goosebumps as his body reflexively attempts to push out scales. His skin also gets incredibly itchy when the scales have been extended for to long in a single place, feeding into that paranoia that there are insects crawling on him.

Parahumanism

Skills: Electrical Experience, Trained Boxer, CPR certified
Classification: Brute
Details: An armadillo brute who can reflexively grow black iron scales across roughly half his body at a single moment. These scales are densely packed and nearly impervious to physical damage while at the same time work to enhance the strength of whatever part of his body they cover, offering him the strength to shatter concrete or tank hits that would pulp flesh. The scales themselves can take some heavy punishment, able to take hits from Endbringer level super strength without breaking, not to say the rest of his body would survive that sort of strain.
Limitations: Scales cannot cover the entirety of his body and make him invulnerable, only able to grow across roughly half his body at once. And while his enhanced strength does absorb a lot of shock from impacts it cannot stop unprotected areas from suffering strain, meaning he has to be careful how he supports and distributes them when fighting against opponents who outclass his super strength.
Equipment: A pair of homemade hard knuckle gloves, finger-less with metal built into the knuckles at the base of his fingers.

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Maxwell York (A.K.A Southpaw)

Southpaw

Name: Maxwell York
Alias: Southpaw
Age: 17
Alignment: Rogue
Loyalty: Currently Independent
Appearance: Average height and build (5’8” 135 lbs), olive brown skin, brown eyes, dark hair. Usually wears outfits that are comfortable and loose, such as a tank top and basketball shorts. His costume consists of a simple cowl mask that shows off his hair, a pair of black gloves with bands of metal across the knuckles to enhance non powered up punches, and a pair of shorts. While out in costume he is usually shirtless and bristling with scales across his chest.
History: Maxwell was not born into money, his parents loving but poor and his father a gambler by nature, something that he picked up in his younger years. He and his younger sister were raised on the concept that the only reliable thing in life was the luck that you made, putting in the effort to push themselves forward was the only way they were going to get anywhere. His father keeping him close while he worked so that he could pick up his trade as an electrician, and by fifteen he had picked up enough knowledge that he could understand how to set up and maintain wiring and repair some forms of electronics. But he knew that being an electrician wasn't something he wanted to spend his entire life stuck doing, so it was that when Maxwell saw the flyer in the school hallway for an after school boxing club he took the chance and signed up. And after a few months of training and some rather impressive bouts for someone so young he found that he had a knack for taking a beating. He continued boxing all the way into his senior year of high school, where unbeknownst to him his father had made a bet with his boss that his boy would make it to the national level. Not knowing that in early spring, a week and a half before the qualifiers an accident would befall Maxwell that would leave him nearly dead and lying in the hospital, swollen and unconscious after accidentally provoking a swarm of bees.

Trigger: Entomophobia your sister had told you, and with your allergies it made sense. Though admitting that you couldn't handle a stray house spider wasn't exactly easy. You were cautious, that was all. But not cautious enough it seemed... all it took was a misplaced step, tripping over a root in the path and you stumbled into the tree, your head colliding with something soft that crunched like paper. And less than a second later you could hear them. The buzzing of hundreds of angry bees, you'd smashed your head against a low hanging hive and now, well it wasn't going to be pretty. The first sting was near your elbow, and you yelped out in pain and swatted at the spot, your hand coming away smeared with the squashed remains of the bee. And then it was open season, like an army they swarmed down upon you, crawling across your skin until they could find a place to bury their killer stings. You'd never been one to panic, always able to stay on top of your emotions, but you could feel the fear welling in you. "Don't let them sting near your throat, your eyes, if you swell to much you will suffocate, protect with one hand crush with the other." You set to the task of crushing each and every insect as it stabbed you, you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. "It hurts. IT HURTS!" you yell, "STOP YOU LITTLE BASTARDS" but the little soldiers continued, their order was to protect the queen or die trying. One by one you killed them, rasping through a throat that wouldn't give you the oxygen you need. Fighting until with a sudden flash, you trigger.

Now worried what his boss might do when he couldn't pay up Maxwell's father sent his children to Denver to live with their aunt in her apartment. Just until he was able to find the money.

Personality

Motivations: Money, comfort, keeping his family safe. He's a pretty simple guy when it comes to what keeps him going.
Sexuality: Closeted Bisexual
Likes:

• His family
• Big paychecks
• Painting miniatures/making models
• Bubblegum (Always has some on him)
• Boxing
• Betting

Dislikes:

• Insects, spiders, creepy crawly things
• Being in someone's debt
• Cars (Gets carsick easily)
• Forced Drama

Derangement: Has a debilitating fear of insects, to the point where even the mention of them will make his skin crawl and push up goosebumps as his body reflexively attempts to push out scales. His skin also gets incredibly itchy when the scales have been extended for to long in a single place, feeding into that paranoia that there are insects crawling on him.

Parahumanism

Skills: Electrical Experience, Trained Boxer, CPR certified
Classification: Brute
Details: An armadillo brute who can reflexively grow black iron scales across roughly half his body at a single moment. These scales are densely packed and nearly impervious to physical damage while at the same time work to enhance the strength of whatever part of his body they cover, offering him the strength to shatter concrete or tank hits that would pulp flesh. The scales themselves can take some heavy punishment, able to take hits from Endbringer level super strength without breaking, not to say the rest of his body would survive that sort of strain.
Limitations: Scales cannot cover the entirety of his body and make him invulnerable, only able to grow across roughly half his body at once. And while his enhanced strength does absorb a lot of shock from impacts it cannot stop unprotected areas from suffering strain, meaning he has to be careful how he supports and distributes them when fighting against opponents who outclass his super strength.
Equipment: A pair of homemade hard knuckle gloves, finger-less with metal built into the knuckles at the base of his fingers.

Character being submitted for GM approval. @ProPro