Dirty Dan

Titans Among the Stars iCheck

Is there a problemo with my CS?

@The Kid Lantern

Titans Among the Stars iCheck

Vorkon

Name - Vorkon, no surname.
Alias - N/A
Age - Unknown.

Human or Alien - Alien ;; Xaelon. The Xaelon originally hail from a blood-lusting and violent planet, called the Vaelun-Six. It's a planet with a predominantly red, dusty-hot surface, sparse ponds or oceans, and a tough, heavy pressure/gravitational force that is usually the reason the alien species are known as warriors. The Xaelon are primarily lighter tones, although some are known to be a tad darker, and they usually stand above 6 feet as an average. Due to the gravity of the world, the children develop and grow younger than other species, being physically into an adult boy by their younger teenage years. The faces of the Xaelon are not usually seen, as they generally cover their heads with various helmets, and keep it there throughout their lives. There's no other reason for this, other than tradition. However, when they partially take off their helmets or so to eat, glimpses of razor-sharp teeth could be seen, and a rather humanoid jawline.

Powers - Vorkon is an Xaelon, and thusly, he has increased attributes that all other members of his species possess. His strength, speed, durability, agility, and stamina is far above what you would put as 'norm', allowing him to perform feats of strength, speed, and general body-related things that is inhuman, or inalien, in this case. This involves leaping dozens of feet within the air, tearing steel apart with his bare hands, and chasing after beasts that are normally faster than aliens. This comes especially into play during combat, with Vorkon attacking his enemies in a ferocious whirlwind of limbs, blades, and bodyparts and blood. This goes hand in hand with the razor-sharp reflexes he has developed over the years of being in the gladitorial arena, and his skill with a variety of different weaponry.

Weaknesses - Like all species, Vorkon has weaknesses. For one, psychologically-wise, during battle, he usually has a one-track mind, and that is to accomplish his goal - something he has developed after years upon years in 'The Pit'. This means that he usually won't stop until that goal is completed, which can truly disrupt his communication with teammates, and even cause problems amongst the more moralistic humans. His ruthlessness in battle is somewhat of a weakness, and somewhat of an advantage. Similarly, while his body is, in general, tougher than most, enough force or piercing capability can, and will, pierce through his calloused skin. His mind has a specific lack of protection against telepathic attacks, and can leave him open in that regards.

Appearance - Vorkon stands at 6'4 or so, with a very muscular, yet lean and compact build that does nothing to hide his superior physical abilities and skill. His chest is generally covered with clasped, heavy - to others, dark mottled steel armor that can protect against high-calibered bullets, energy projectiles, and concussive blasts/attacks, but can be pierced with enough attacks. It's only on his upper body due to how he fights - which is all over the place, dominating the enemy with wild, yet oddly precise strikes. This causes him to twist and flip a lot of the times, meaning that his mid-to-lower torso needs to be free of constriction, to twist without anything hindering his movements. His pants are dark brown/black, with dark, mottled steel plats sewn in loosely, as to not restrict movements, along with tough combat boots, a loose belt to hold anything he needs, and two holsters for a pair of Xaurum-MK II's;; two shell-blasting, powerful pistols, usually disliked by most due to the immense recoil, but Vorkon can use them without any issues. On his back, criss-crossed and magnetic, are two long, razor-sharp, jagged swords that are relatively light-weight, despite their intimidating appearance. They're not specially crafted by him, or some sort of heirloom. He found it as he was escaping Dor'Lorez, and they haven't broken yet, so he keeps them with him. Very useful. His helmet is dark and leather-wrapped, with a gasmask that filters out any bad gases/poisons, and muffles his naturally deep, rough voice. The two eyeholes glow an odd, yet intimidating crimson - maybe a reflection of what his eyes are underneath? His face is generally unknown, as no one has even seen him take the mask off to eat.

BRIEF Bio- To be brief, Vorkon was originally born on his home planet, given his helmet/mask like all younglings. He would grow up underneath a rough father, with a variety of other children in the village they grew up in. Rough-housing and fighting was common, and he was trained by his father on hand-to-hand combat, as he played and wrestled with the other kids. Life was pretty...boring? At age eight, a shady planet, Dor'Lorez, sent out a caravan to kidnap young children for their gladiator pit. His planet was one of the more popular ones, and despite everyone fighting with all they had, the superiority of Dor'Lorez was too much, and the village burned, with Vorkon and a few kids being taken and sold into a gladiator arena, the Pit, within Dor'Lorez's shadowy depths. This is where he grew up for years upon years - he had stopped counting after ten. There, he fought against large beasts, countless human slaves, everything you could ever think of...but despite this, he soldiered on, growing calloused and ruthless, cold to the pleas of enemies as he used whatever weapon of the week the Pit decided to throw to the gladiators. Finally, as he came out for yet another battle, he saw his enemy, and his steel heart felt like it was breaking. A child-hood friend...Veloria, one that grew up in his village. She was bruised, torn, and was definitely not a sight for sore eyes...but she was here. For once since these damned battles began, he talked, calling out to her, but she attacked, and kept attacking, attacking, attacking...until he had to put her out of her desperation. However, as she died, her eyes cleared - for they had the audacity to take her helmet - and she whispered something, softly, that he would still remember for years to come. "Escape...leave this disgusting pla-" And that was it. After that, things seemed to happen in slow motion. He was taken back to his cell, where he usually trained until the next match, but things were different. He did a lot of shit in his life, and if he were to be honest with himself, he knew he wasn't a good person.

He knew it.

But he could at least leave this planet, like Veloria promised. He managed to snap the neck of the guard, and took the man's weaponry - two jagged blades. The escape plan was nonexistant, but somehow, with the motivation and burning passion of Veloria's words, Vorkon managed to escape on a slim, yet fast, unnoticeable jet, and flew out into space. Since then, he has become a sort of...wanderer, of sorts, travelling from planet to planet, generally with no aim but to fight, which he did. He killed whatever slaver, gladiator pit owner, and generally any evil man he came across in his travels, not really having a set destination, other than to drift. However, after coming across the Titans, he saw how they seemed to get into trouble a lot, and watched them for a bit. After some thought, he joined them. He wasn't a hero, or whatever they were, but he liked trouble, and battle was the only real thing he was alive for, honestly. At least he was a free man. Although his ruthless tendency in battle tends to cause conflicts with the humans, Vorkon is generally a silent, dangerous guy, keeping to himself, and training for the next enemy. He had found a purpose, after all, and he'd keep it until it got stale.

Notes - Nothing.

Commitment - Need at least one post per week, with six players total that means as a group somebody has to post daily. Just let me know here how active you are and that one post per week is doable.

Titans Among the Stars iCheck

I must leave early tomorrow morning for camp, which will most-likely last around 6 or 7 days. I'd still like to join this, however. When do you think you'll have the OOC and IC up? If the OOC gets up later than sooner, and the IC even later than that, then I could probably join, and just create a character before I go, and post it here.

If not, I wish you all luck.

The Gifted[CLOSED]

God damn, if only you made this entire RP one week in the future...

With that being said, I'm trying to decide if I should get a post up, or just wait until I get from camp.

The Gifted[CLOSED]

If the IC pops up before Sunday, I won't post, considering that I'm going to be leaving for 7-9 days on that early Sunday morning;; I have boot camp. However! Hopefully I won't be too far behind once I get back.

The Gifted[CLOSED]

oioi

The Gifted[CLOSED]

Aye, thanks. The bio was a bit rushed, since I started working on it only a little while ago, and I have to shower/sleep soon, so sorry 'bout that. I'll probably go on and describe his initiation and training within the MRF, along with him developing his powers. Tomorrow, of course.

The Gifted[CLOSED]

App's done. Didn't know what to put for the 'Example' so I just pasted one of my average posts from another RP. That's usually how I post/write.

The Gifted[CLOSED]

Ulysses

Ezrah Ulysses

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Name:
Ezrah Ulysses

Age:
19

Eye Colors
Naturally, the left is darkish brown/hazel, and the right is a deep emerald, but can, and will, turn completely green, sclera and all, on will. A rather...useless power, but one he uses once he goes out, to further hide his identity.

Personality
Ezrah can come off as unapproachable, but that's mainly because he tends to be a bit on the sharper, quieter side. While a bit cold-shouldering, he is a very down-to-earth, realistic young man, calloused from witnessing the deaths of his loved ones. Focused on the task at hand, and observant/analytical, Ezrah can take on a leadership role rather easily - although he tend to be a loner, due to the fact that groups can easily limit mobility and survival chances, and it tends to generally make him uneasy to team up with another person - which is part of the reason he quit the MRF. If in a team, he'd rather not take the leadership role, preferring to let others take such a stressful and frustrating role. He isn't secretly evil, and is a naturally humane, if not ruthless person, cutting off his humanity when he ruthlessly slices down his enemies. If he sees someone innocent, or even worth saving, in trouble, there's a high chance of him helping. Otherwise, he stays to himself, as he already has a goal within his mind, and it's not being some comic book hero. Although he may not seem it at first, there are rare times where Ezrah will let down his guard and laugh/joke, but it's extremely rare. Generally, you'd get a sharp, dry, and sarcastic remark from the generally cold young man. He doesn't take any disrespect, nor does he get pushed around, and he can, and will, push back with more force than you. He isn't afraid of a battle of wits, but he much prefers swift action over words. He tries to be...friendlier? Nicer? As he goes about the normal, everyday citizen life, but things don't really work out that way a lot of the times.

Type
1

Abilities
Ezrah's abilities stems from his body and mind. His strength, speed, agility, durability, and stamina goes beyond human limits, being unnatural and inhuman in nature. He has the whip-corded reaction speed, strength, and agility to slice barrages of bullets in half within seconds, dart through the shadows, flip dozens of feet into the air, and generally do feats that any human, and even inhumans, cannot do within their dreams. This makes him an immensely dangerous combatant, especially combined with his psychological ability. It's an unnatural form of eidetic, or photographic, memory. Practically, he can learn, remember, and master things that he only sees by his eyes, which he used to learn how to use the weapon shown within the picture, and other weaponry and martial arts.

Bio
Starting off, his life wasn't all that bad. He grew up in the...rougher part of town, the 'ghettos' if you will. He had a little sister, an older brother, and a mother and a father, both whom were hard workers, and tough, yet fair and loving parents. He was expected to be hard-working as well, and with a naturally intelligent mind, Ezrah tried to make his parents proud starting off, getting good grades on his tests and exams, doing his homework, doing the yardwork, the chores when it was his turn, and generally living his life. That is...until he hit the age of 13. It was a pretty...odd experience. He was washing his face in the locker room, after gym class, when he looked up, and noticed something off about his face.

His left eye, it was it's usual hazel-brown, yet the left eye was a dark, emerald green. He touched his cheek, and flinched back when an electric shock went down his spine, and both of his eyes suddenly turned pure green, sclera and all. The door suddenly opened, and Ezrah whipped around, startled. The janitor was there, and the man was absolutely shocked as he stared at the boy's obviously inhuman eyes. "You're...you're...!" He began, pointing a shaking finger at the black-haired young man. Ezrah's mouth was opened as he pressed along his cheek, trying to stop whatever was making his eyes be completely green. He had heard of this whole mutant thing...the 'Gifted', and how they were being hunted. How the media said they were 'not human'. He didn't want to be...

The janitor had reacted whilst he was freaking out, and Ezrah looked up, just to see the mop bucket, filled with dirty water, flying right towards his head. However, his body reacted instinctively, and with unnatural reflexes, he rolled forward, as the bucket slammed against the wall, spilling water everywhere. The janitor yelled, running forward with the mop in hand, slamming the heavy wooden handle down at the shorter child. Once more, Ezrah felt his body's instincts doing the deed, and he instinctively side-stepped, before yelling and punching forward with a right hook that he remembered seeing on that boxing match last night. As the punch slammed into the man's stomach, Ezrah felt sick to his own stomach as bones collapsed beneath the power of his fist, before gravity caught up and the janitor collapsed onto the floor, bile and blood dribbling from his mouth.

After this, everything is a haze. He was expelled from school, and came home, only to find some men in dark suits exiting his house. He had been wandering the park after leaving school, scared to tell his mom and pops about what had happened, afraid of what they'd say and do...so, as he ran into the house, flicking on the lights as he went. What he found...disgusted and horrified and enraged him. Blood...so much blood. Bodies. And a note...'We know.'

That was how the MRF found him.

Everything after that is history.

Post Example

An average post from a Fallout RP

Jackdaw Missouri
Near the Vault Entrance
Tagged;; Everyone

Jackdaw listened to the others with half an ear, whilst he busied himself with making sure that his equipment was stable. Regardless of what they chose, he already had his plans - those buildings in the distance sure was interesting, and they'd probably hold some very valuable information for seeing what was going on in this Wasteland. True, diving themselves up would make them smaller targets, but, from what he saw, the others weren't really made for...well, conflict, he felt like. There wasn't any arrogance to the thought - he was just going off of what he knew of the others at this exact moment. The red-haired girl, the thug, seemed pretty good with what she got, and the large guy was notorious for being very strong in the Vault - other than his retardation. Maybe they'd be useful, but he didn't really know. Whether they stayed together or not, Jack had absolutely no thoughts on dying out here. He had finally left the vault, and if his dad could survive out here with a pregnant wife, then he'd do the exact same thing. The man had left him some audio-recordings in his Pip-Boy, not mentioning anything specific about escaping the vault, but just giving him stories about the outside world.

Since the audio recordings were made for him to sleep, back when he was younger, they didn't give out every gritty detail...but maybe, once he found a safe place, he could listen to them and see if there was any useful information within the messages. If there wasn't...well, at least he'd tried. Coming back into the 'real-world', Jack looked down, noticing that he was sitting on a flat rock, his assault rifle's magazine lying on the ground beside him. Slipping the loaded clip into the gun's chamber, Jack slung the weapon over his backpack, while grabbing his 10mm pistol from where it had been sitting beisde him. His mind was made up. It'd be a bit dangerous, for sure, moving down the road with the sun blaring all around him, but at least he'd be moving on. Staying by the vault seemed more and more stupid, especially with those shitty monsters killing every child and mother inside. Damn...

"I'm headin' to the buildings out there." Jack spoke up to the others, for the first time this entire day. He mentally wondered if he should just leave it at that...but there were some useful people in this group, and leaving them seemed pretty stupid. Not to mention, he couldn't just leave them all behind without having a very guilty conscience. That thought didn't even cross his mind. He began talking again, peering over at the others, before looking out at the buildings. Dust and sand blew over his eyes, and the man squinted slightly. "You can come if you want. I want to see if there's anything useful, like a map or some information. Maybe normal people. " He walked up to the broken, cobblestone road, his sidearm gripped in both hands. Jack glared through the dusty air, looking for any signs of hostile people, any mutated beasts, any of those evil, drug-addicted raiders his dad had told him about, all those years ago. It seemed pretty clear. Jack glanced back at the others.

"Better to act than wait, right?" At least, to him, it seemed that way. The man waited for responses, while keeping his eyes peeled for anyone or anything approaching. if they declined, then Hell, he'd go by himself - no skin off his bones. But, if they came with him, then that'd be a bit better. Safer, too. However, for some reason, he felt like he'd regret speaking up...like some jackass would piss him off a few minutes after they set out, and things would escalate. That'd probably be his paranoia speaking, though. The least he could do was be patient and hopefully nice. His calmness was still winning out, so hopefully it was still there while he was with these people. He didn't really wanna snap at them and get guns shoved in his face. Then, he'd have to kill more people, and he didn't really feel like dealing with that guilty feeling.

Other Meh, I pretty much post what others do. If others are posting one sentence, then whatevs, I'll do that. If they're posting ten paragraphs, then I'll do that. Doesn't really matter.

Theme Song: M.A.A.D. City

The Gifted

Basically, it is absorbing the energy from physical attacks, and using it to power yourself, and even unleash it in energy-based attacks that can be used to charge items to explode on impact, or even directly force the energy into living things to directly explode.

I'm stuck between a hobo with that power, and a former M.R.F. member, now solo vigilante/rebel that takes the fight against the corrupt D.M.A. This is how he looks, well, when he's 'working'. I'll describe how he looks without the mask and such. His powers would be Type 1, I guess? It's basically having supernatural strength/speed/agility/reaction, and the ability to learn things by simply watching it happen, which he used to learn how to use the weapon shown within the picture.

My choice will probably depend on the type of characters I see on the OOC.