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Okay...after some reworking of my concept...here's the start of something



Angel struggled with her mane of curly dark hair as her toothbrush hung out of the side of her mouth. She didn't have work today, but considering what was on the news this morning she was going to have a busy day ahead of her. She had to go near the other side of the city, but it was a nice day for the bike ride at least.

"Again, reporting out top story," the newscaster on the TV echoed through the bathroom door, "a huge five-alarm fire has ripped through a portion of the San Maria docks, destroying multiple warehouses and giving firefighters a real problem. While the blaze is currently under control, the men who were believed to have started the fire, all members of the gang known as The Bayside Bandits, claim they had no choice in the matter."

The scene cut from the studio to the outside of the blaze, where the apparent gangsters were being put into squad cars. One of them, as he was being put into the car yelled out, "I wasn't us, man! It wasn't us! We had to do it to kill the monsters! They were everywhere."

Back in the studio, the anchor smiled, "Monsters in San Maria? Could our city now be joining the countless others across the globe dealing with the superhuman situation? Or a convenient scapegoat to try and get out of some jail time? Only time will tell!"

Of course, Angel knew that monsters very much were here in the city. She had seen them with her own eyes the other night. She had talked to them. She had touched them. Now all she had to do was prove they existed to everyone else.

She threw on an old t-shirt and shorts before walking over the the map in her room. She took a line of string and ran it from the IDRG Pyramid in the middle of the city over to where the warehouse district was located. It was only one more data point, but a data point none the less. Good science and deductive reasoning never came quickly, and she was nothing if not a scientists. A scientist in the employ of crazy mad scientists, but a scientist none the less.

"Angel Aquila, monster hunter," she said to herself as she turned away from the map and headed out the front door.



"We have movement," the young one said to the older one as they sat in the old Cadillac across the street from the apartment building. They had been spending most of their time here, watching the girl. Not that there was really all that much to watch. All she did was go to work, return, go to class, return, and sleep. Not that they necessarily needed something more entertaining to watch, but the girl desperately needed a social live. When she turned a different way than her normal bike route, he sat up in his chair, "Whoa we gotta rogue turn on our hands, sir."

The older man took a long sip of his coffee cup, with some dribbling into his dark beard which was streaked with grey. He had grown weary of sitting around doing nothing. His superiors, well superior, had told him not to do anything but make sure the girl was under surveillance. He was to make no contact, and was to not bring her in under any circumstances. It was quite the different level of action as he was used to. But the girl was important, and he understood the reason. Still, he'd be lying if he said he enjoyed this.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the old one asked. "Get to following her. We have a job to do."

The Cadillac roared to life and slowly followed.


Mozart sat on his bed, his legs crossed over one another and his eyes firmly shut. Around him the dull sounds of the bunker rolled around him. He heard the rumble of the air circulator, the drip of condensation from the pipes, and even the snoring of Bach from a room over. His siblings were still asleep. They probably would be for quite some time. He had fallen asleep as soon as they got home, while the others had decided to celebrate a little. Even Clara joined in, and she was rarely one for frivolity.

But he wasn't in the mood for whatever reason. He hit his pillow and was immediately asleep, and had the first dreamless sleep in a while. That disappointed him, as odd as it was to admit that. While they were certainly surprising initially, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to have a purpose in life. The dreams were a lifeline, a way forward from here, and that's all he wanted.

So he was going to try and break through using meditation. He had no idea if it was even possible, but he figured it was worth a shot. The white noise helped clear his mind of all thought. The sounds started to mesh together, becoming a low hum in the back of his mind. Before long it seemed to get further and further away before it disappeared into the nothingness.

His eyes opened, revealing the darkness his mind had traveled to. None of the noises that had come to him in the bunker were now gone. All that greeted him was silence and darkness. It was not unlike the environment he often had found in the prophetic dreams. But something felt off. Instead of the warm embrace that had came with the appearance of the frog god, he now felt a pulsing malice hiding in the dark.

Art took tentative steps through the dark. He didn't really know how he got to this place, nor did he know how to get out of it either. For all he knew, he was stuck here in the impenetrable darkness. Each time his foot fell in this vast place, it made no sound. Even his breath seemed to be silenced by the dark.

Yet Art could see himself. Nothing else, but merely himself. Everything else around him was blanketed by inky dark.

"Hello!?" he called out. He expected the sound to echo in the vast empty space, but instead the sound seemed to struggle. It was as if after a few feet in front of him was a wall of water. The sound morphed and died, but then seemed to revive and travel through the nothingness. He took a few more steps and put out his hand, expecting to feel whatever the barrier was. But it never came.

He continued to walk and yell for what felt like miles, each step bringing him no closer to the barrier, and each yell making it clearer and clearer that it's still there. It was the definition of maddening.

"Hello!?" he called to no one yet again.

But this time there was a response.

It wasn't a language he understood, but he was familiar with it. He had heard it in the dreams, when the dark creature had spoken to him. The droning, alien tongue sent shivers of fear through him. As it continued to talk, it seemed to be coming from more and more places around him. It soon turned into a stampede of voices calling and chanting at him.

Around him the darkness seemed to move. It folded in on itself. Once where it had been only black, ripples of violet and navy appeared. It seemed to be swimming, showing the barrier he had knew was there all along. It frightened him. The barrier had been there the whole time, it was just moving with him like a living bubble. It began to fold out, revealing the mess of tentacles that made it up.

Behind it, in the distance, Mozart could see other swirling being of indiscriminate sizes. They were all looking at him. They didn't have eyes, just black, gaping holes of malice that were pointed towards him. He knew they were staring at him, an intruder in their dark dwelling.

He looked back to the mass of writhing tentacles, their oily black skin seemed to undulate with pain. He followed them up towards their source, which was hard to do considering how many of them there were and their erratic movement. As he traced along their malevolent path, a eye opened in the mass. It was a bright, radiant red, and while it was lidless and expressionless, Art could feel the hate and hunger radiating off of it. It locked in on Art. Its gaze froze him in place. He felt like it was going to kill him. Not with the humongous mass of its body, but merely by looking at him. It would kill him with its malice.

But as some of the other tentacles moved, a bright light began to filter through them. As it reached the Frog, he found himself unfrozen, but also pulled to look at the light. He moved to gain a better vantage point. When he did so, he saw a tall, gleaming tower floating among the darkness. The island it sat on seemed to be made of some swirling nebula of pure creation. From the sides of the tower to the nebula protruded six support beams. At least there once had been six. Merely two remained now, and the final two were wrapped in the clutches of the large creature's tentacles. It had been trying to bring the tower down, and it was close to doing so.

Suddenly, the Eye moved back in front of him, bombarding him with hatred.

Mozart woke with a start, back in the bunker, and frightened to the core.
Meh I’ll just wait to see if Webby decides to stick with Cap. Soldier would be a “villain” for a while so if I can’t play her like that there’s no reason to do so
Season 2 CS (need to fill in the catalogue0


Reposting TWS, will edit this depending on what webby decides regarding Cap

<Snipped quote by HenryJonesJr>

If we could get all returning characters updated to this format that would be preferred.

<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>


And the Winter Soldier one stays as the original sheet format, correct? Just want to make sure I have my ducks in a row.
Do I need to repost my Guardians CS for Season 2?
Leeeeeeeeeeeroy Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeenkkkkkkkkkiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnsssssss (No my second character concept is not Leeroy Jenkins)

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
T H E W I N T E R S O L D I E R



R E D A C T E D A S S A S S I N E A R T H U N K N O W N
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"They aren't ready."

The Winter Soldier has appeared out of nowhere to test the heroes of the world. Her goals are unknowable, her origins are untraceable, and her memories are lost to time. All she knows is her mission, and her mission is all she cares about.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

So I hate to pull the "if I tell you too much it will ruin where I plan to go"....but well if I tell you too much it will ruin where I plan to go. GMs, I can PM some stuff if requested. I have some twists and turns planned for the story, and I would love to have a lot of interaction with other players. Especially considering my other characters can't do that much at the moment.

Needless to say I plan on her testing the heroes of the world while also struggling with her own shattered memories and psyche. Over time she will come to discover who she truly is, who is really pulling her strings, and what she truly wants to fight for.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

The Masters of Evil - A coordinated and cunning team of super-powered individuals that have descended upon the world. None of them know the true names of the others in the group. They only know their mission given to them by their benefactor.
  • Crimson Dynamo - A warrior in an armored, high-tech suit.
  • Radioactive Man - A man with super strength, speed, and agility and the ability to manipulate radiation.
  • Swordsman - An Olympic level athlete and master of hand-to-hand and melee fighting.

The Boss - The enigmatic mastermind behind the Masters of Evil.

S A M P L E P O S T:

The blinding beam of light woke her from a deep sleep, with a scream tearing through her dreams. She couldn't remember whose it was. It came from no face in her dream, just the blackness of unconsciousness. It wasn't high enough to be her own. It was too deep. A man, more than likely. Who he was she had no idea, but it was the same scream that always woke her up. It was full of pain and loss, the sad kind of scream someone bellowed when one had nothing left to lose and were resigned to their fate. She hated it. Not only because she did not know who it came from, but because of how weak it was.

The Winter Soldier hated anything that projected weakness. If there was one thing that her line of work taught was that any weakness would be turned around against you and would often end with you lying in a shallow grave on some godforsaken spit of land. No, weakness was not to be tolerated. It was something to be expunged from the body.

"Good morning, agent," the voice from the speaker in her room greeted her the same it did whenever she was woken up. It was The Boss, the one that always had her instructions. She had lost count how many missions she had been sent on. The number wasn't important. What was important was that she had never failed The Boss, and she wasn't planning on starting. "How are you feeling?"

"Restless," was her only answer. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the light emanating from the ceiling of her room. It was spartan, but comfortable. Her bed in one corner, a kitchenette across from it, and a door to a bathroom on the same wall as the bed. A small sitting area stood in the center with a comfortable chair and a table. It was all she needed, if she was being honest with herself. Some assassins in the world chose extravagance and luxury when not on the job, but that seemed merely a trifle for her.

"Excellent," the voice smiled. She had never seen The Boss, nor did she think she ever would. But they had a vision for the world, and she was ready to make it happen. "Are you ready for your next mission?"

"Always," she said with an unmistakable hunger.

"Good, for the time we've been waiting for has arrived. It's time for SHIELD to shatter."

P O S T C A T A L O G:

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.

And with that my season comes to an end, and the Guardians begin.

Here's to season 2.

EDIT: As for the ongoing debate, I agree that we have issues snatching up characters and guarding them like they're collectibles. I realize I'm the ultimate hypocrite here playing a team, but if someone came in wanting to use one of the characters I snatched up, it's at the point where I'd be cool with giving it to them. Otherwise we're gonna continue starting these games that are doomed to fail because we gate ourselves off from others.

So I mostly agree with @Hexaflexagon. I don't see starting a new thread as a cure for getting new players. I think it could be a start as long as we broadcast players have more freedom, including using characters that others had gated off as "their" NPCs. That's not how a functioning game is gonna attract more players.
His father stood in front of him, a lone shining force in the darkness that surrounded the two of them. Even in death Odin appeared to be everything one would think of when they pictured a god. Strong yet merciful, wise yet ready for action, the Allfather stood as a testament to what Thor always dreamed he would be. Yet Odin had died like the rest of them while Thor survived. How could it be that this pillar of strength was no longer there to prop up the God of Thunder when he needed it?

"Quit pitying yourself," the father raised an eyebrow at his son. "You just defeated a mad tyrant and escaped his clutches. You should be reveling."

Thor looked down at himself, still wondering whether these visions of his father were in his head or whether they were real. Part of him wondered if that mattered. This was the place he was coming when he exerted enough of his energy. It must mean something, and he was going to make the most of his visits. Maybe they could help in some way to quell the coming storm.

"Revel? For what?" Thor responded dejectedly. "For harnessing a fraction of my power and passing out afterwards? For falling into a trap that should have never caught me? For falling behind our adversary so far that he plunders our treasures? I see not a reason for merriment, father."

He had won the day. That much was to be certain. There was a time that was all he needed to start feasting and drinking in the halls of Asgard. But that time was not now. Now he still had an anger in his belly towards his still unseen foe. He was furious that he still felt no closer to discovering who had destroyed his home and his people.

"You're looking at the negatives," Odin shook his head and looked down. "Did you not find Heimdall? Did you not discover our people still live? Did you not reclaim Jarnbjorn and harness the lightning once more? Are these not accomplishments worth celebrating?"

"Aye," Thor nodded. "I harnessed the lightning but for a few moments. And then it overpowered me."

"You have lost Asgard," Odin placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "It was where some of your power came from. Until you learn how to ground yourself without it, you will not feel yourself. But you will find a way to harness it once again. You will find our people and protect them. For you are Thor. God of Thunder. Odinson. You were born to lead our people out of the darkness, and so you will. Fare well, my son. And remember who you are."?

He woke with a startle, sending the multiple people around his bedside jumping back. He saw Quill, Heimdall, a small rabbit of some kind, the tree, a Thanagarian warrior, Korg, and Meik. As his eyes adjusted to the light on the ship, he saw he was on a larger, yet not wholly different ship from Quill's Milano, as if someone had merely stretched the ship out slightly. He sat up, and his head spun momentarily before he regained his wits.

"We got off the planet then?" he asked Heimdall. "How many came with us?"

"What you see here, and close to a dozen more on the bigger ship," the former sentry of Asgard reported, not without some satisfaction. He had been stuck on Warworld for too long. Getting off the gladiator world clearly brought him joy, as it should have. "Mongul may not like that we took both his fastest ship and his biggest one. The other is a pleasure yacht, but has potent defenses."

"And this one is a kickass, tricked-out Milano clone," Quill smiled like an idiot behind Heimdall. "I love it so much."

"Yea, and I made sure there weren't any tracking devices operational on either of them," the rabbit shrugged. "We don't need Mongul waking up and sending the dogs after us."

"Yes, rabbits do hate dogs," Thor pondered.

"What the hell is a rabbit?" the furry creature bristled at the word.

"I am Groot," Tree responded matter of factly.

"No I do not care if it means I'm cute and furry. I am an intergalactic killing machine. I ain't cure," snapped back before turning to Thor. "Name's Rocket."

"And I'm Hawk," the Thanagarian put out our hand.

He hesitated to take it, "A Thanagarian ship was the reason we ended up on Warworld. Yours?"

"Yea," she nodded as she took off her battle helmet. A cascade of auburn hair fell from within, draping over her caramel skin. "You guys had a bounty. I'm a bounty hunter. But seeing as I was just seen helping you escape by everyone with access to Mongul's broadcast, I assume I have a price on my head as well. Considering how big the one was on both of you, I assume it's pretty substantial."

"Shit, wait what?" Rocket sputtered. "You're tellin' me I got a price on my head now?"

"Probably," Hawk nodded.

"Great. Out of the frying pan and into the friggin' fire."

"I am Groot."

Rocket nodded, "You're right, pal. It isn't fair, is it?"

"So what's our next move?" Heimdall asked.

As the others chattered amongst themselves, Thor pondered the question. Quill wanted to run back to his Ravagers. Rocket just wanted to run. Hawk wanted to fight. Thor liked that. But as they tried to plot and plan, he came up with the only way he could think of to find his enemy as well as help his people escape harm.

"Quiet."

The request came out of his mouth unlike any other time he could remember. It remind him of his father when he was on the throne. It was not threatening, but it carried power. Until now he had never thought he had the ability to command a room in such a way. He had done it plenty of times on the battlefield, but not in a setting like this.

"Heimdall," he looked at his old friend, "as much as this pains me after being reunited, we must part ways. You said yourself that our people are out there and scattered. They are being hunted as we are, yet we know many of them do not have the skills the two of us do. You must take the gladiators and find our people. Collect them. Protect them."

Heimdall considered the command. It made sense, but Thor saw the trepidation he had with leaving the God of Thunder, "And what shall you do, Odinson?"

"We," he motioned to Quill, Hawk, Rocket, and Groot, "will provide you cover. While you are hunting to save our people, we will be traveling the galaxy, flaunting our living status. Helping those that need it, and, with luck, find who put a price on our heads and destroyed Asgard. And when we do, we'll go and kill him."

His four new potential traveling companions considered what he had said. Thor knew Quill was in, and Hawk seemed eager as well. It was Rocket and Groot who were the wildcards.

"Listen, we ain't usually the joinin-"

"I am Groot," Groot cut him off.

"What do you mean we stand a better chance with them!?" Rocket growled at the tree. "We survived all this time without 'em!"

"I am Groot."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrr," Rocket growled again and ran his hands...paws...whatever through his fur in frustration. "Fine. We're in. But I do not love the idea of flaunting around while someone wants me dead."

Thor stood, before kneeling in front of the small creature. He placed his hand on Rocket's small shoulder, "My friend you have the heart of a warrior. With the rest of us, those who stand against you do not stand a chance."

"Shake the bait, see who bites," Hawk cracked her neck. "Sounds good to me."

"Shit I've been an outlaw this whole time anyway," Quill shrugged. "I'm in."

"Then let us begin," Thor smiled broadly at his new companions. "Our enemy does not rest, and neither shall we."


THOR, STAR-LORD, HAWK, ROCKET, and GROOT

ARE
THE GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY
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