Hillan

Three DC Comics RPGs, one game. Which moves forward? You decide!

Pitch 2 or 3 are both cool. I'd weigh heavier on pitch 2.

The Curse of Crestwood Hollow - A Hyperhuman Story [CLOSED]

I hope I made it into the school musical.

@King Kindred

I really think we can make it to regionals this year

One Piece: A Golden Age, A Dark Age - The Boozehound Chronicles

COVER STORY 1: THE STRUGGLES OF THE TARANTULA PIRATES
PART 1

SOUTH BLUE; SIX MONTHS AGO.

The Crimson Arachna was sailing the south blue seas, after a year in the grand line. The Man O' War was busted up, and the crew looked like nothing more but a cabin of ghosts and ghouls. Two thirds of the crew hadn't made the journey back to the blue, the ship had barely managed to hold up during the travels. The crew were all tired, depressed and lacking any kind of conviction to keep fighting at this point. All they wanted was rest and retirement. All of them but the two cabin boys. Two big-eyed lads whom they had picked up before cruising over the Reverse Mountain on their way into the grand line. The boys were named Hazel and Kaspar, and they had stars in their eyes.

"C'mon Kaspar! I see the port!" Hazel shouted, his blonde hair blowing in the wind as he stood on the bow, looking out. Kaspar leaned over, nervously eyeing the mold-infested railing Hazel was leaning against, worried that it would break at any moment. "Finally. A place to relax at." The ginger-haired boy confessed.

"Dude! Are you also tired? Did the geezers rub off on you?!" Hazel's energetic tone picked Kaspar up, who shook his head.
"Nah. But I need food. And water. And I've never been in the South Blue before."
"You think they have funny accents?" Hazel asked and Kaspar giggled. The boys were no older than 15, and in many ways were too young to be out on the seas like this. Too young to have dealt with the hardships of the Grand Line. Yet, they were loyal to their cause and more importantly, each other. Their captain, Erwin Goldstinger never fucked around. He was a tough man to serve under, especially as lowly cabin boys whom, to many pirates, were worth nothing more than dirt, and Erwin often treated the boys worse than the bugs that lived on the ship.

However, the cook, James Hook was the one who had practically raised the boys into pirates. He had taught them how to do every chore on the ship, and punished them when they were stupid kids by forcing them to do all of the ship's dishes for the month. And a vessel with hundreds of messy pirates, the dishes piled up incredibly fast. But Mr. Hook was worn out from the struggles of the Grand Line, too. They couldn't have prepared themselves for that kind of hardships, surely.

Hazel knew James was cooking down in the mess hall, he could smell his food and hear the tune he was humming. Kaspar joined in and soon both of them were whistling along and humming the melody that the cook was letting out. Salmon stew was on the menu, South Blue salmon, even. They had only been in the south blue one day, and they weren't used to eating food that wasn't made from poisonous fish.

The harbor of Rootport came into view and Kaspar looked up, seeing the sail tatter, he whistled for Hazel to pay attention, and the two boys sprang into action, running as quickly as they could to grab the rope that had come undone, while Hazel used his meat-hook to quickly climb the mast, tying the rotten rope back together, cutting it off on the one end where it was the most rotten, making a better knot. They needed provisions, that's for sure.

"We need new rope, man." Hazel said, mellowly, once he climbed down, and Kaspar nodded. Thinking of their vice-captain and Quartermaster, Evie. She hadn't made it back from the Grand-Line, sacrificing herself to cover their escape when the greatest threat the Tarantula Pirates had ever known came for them.

Terra.

A Man who's name would put fear into the hearts of any pirate.

The Curse of Crestwood Hollow - A Hyperhuman Story [CLOSED]

<Snipped quote by Retired>

Lucky for me, you're not the GM.

@Lord Wraith

It's really lucky for us all.

The Curse of Crestwood Hollow - A Hyperhuman Story [CLOSED]

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

VICTOR BORDEAUX

---

"I used to like the quiet."

---

^{VICTOR MICHAEL BORDEAUX
SIXTEEN
THEME SONG
TWIN BROTHER}

H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T I E S:

---

Energy Projection and Manipulation:

Victor's able to generate, store, project, absorb, and manipulate energy. Or specifically, heat energy. His ability will take several shapes throughout his development. Thus, the applications and uses for his powers will vary with each stage of his mutation once his hype-gene becomes active. Victor is heatproof and cannot catch on conventional fire. He'll be able to learn to absorb the energy from a fire.

Optical Energy Projection And Manipulation, 'Heat Vision':

Victor fires energy from his optical nerves. His iris will begin to glow and soon his pupils will turn bright red. Energy will emit from his eyes at varying levels of heat and concussive power, much like all of his other blasts. With practice, he'll be able to manipulate the heat blasts with great dexterity, not just their heat and power, but the size and even decide on a complex path once fired, such as bending the beam mid-air. His optical blasts are strongly regulated by his emotions, anger makes his eyes burn hot and extreme explosions of rage will do the same to anything he looks at.

Limb Based Energy Projection, 'Hand Blast':

A more conventional and less complex use of his powers is firing beams from his body, commonly his hands. They're weaker in power than the ones from his eyes but offer greater flexibility. While his vision's harder to aim, he can fire a blast from his finger with bullet-like accuracy.

Complex Plasma Generation, 'Destructo-Disc':

What happens when you're immune to heat and can superheat the air and other materials until it ionizes? You end up with the ability to create, form, and manipulate shapes of superheated material. This material can be turned into weapons or defensive structures. Melting metal on touch or cutting through obstacles or foes at will. This is the most complex use of Victor's powers and requires amounts of electromagnetic energy he in most settings cannot generate himself.

R E L A T I O N S H I P WITH V.

---

Victor is 14 minutes older than Vanessa. And while as twins, that's arbitrary, it's something he always has taken seriously. He's an introvert who always had a hard time making friends, Vanessa was a social butterfly, forcing him into the social scene by 'protecting' her. Even though Vanessa's thrown more punches than Victor has in order to defend the other.

They shared everything growing up, baths to toys. They had their joint bike that Vanessa broke one summer and Victor had to fix.

They started theater together in their freshmen year, a hobby that both of the twins truly enjoyed which gave Vanessa a starring roll in a local commercial, and Victor the sporty nickname 'faggot'.
During the freshman year, Vanessa gravitated towards the social circles while Victor would rather stay in the artistic side of things. He did music, did his homework, and wrote poetry, only dragging her brother out to parties so he'd 'keep an eye on her' as their parents always told him to.

The sibling rivalry was strong in other aspects, though. Vanessa was better at track and field, Victor was better at baseball. Vanessa beat him in Super Mario and she was far better at social studies than him, but he had better grades in math and literature. Their father wanted Victor to become a rocket scientist like him, and Vanessa to pursue a career in acting. Their father died when the twins were 14. The trauma and pain of losing their dad's something they bonded over and it made them far closer. Relying on each other for the really nasty shit life throws at them.

He hated his sister at times because things always went her way. How she'd have fun and he'd clean up her mess.
And when she was gone, he'd give anything to clean up another one of her messes.

The Curse of Crestwood Hollow - A Hyperhuman Story [CLOSED]

MIKE THE JANITOR

FULL NAME: Michael Thee Janitorial

HYPERHUMAN ABILITIES: Mike has the ability to shoot SpaghettiOs from every orifice of his body. A janitor, forever doomed to clean up a mess he himself creates. Cruel, cruel fate.

RELATIONSHIP TO VANESSA: She puked one time. He poured sawdust on it, but the stains would never come out... neither would the mental scars they gave Mike.

@Jake Gittes

Approved.

Hillan's Parade Of Characters

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

VICTOR BORDEAUX

---

"I always liked the quiet."

---

^{VICTOR MICHAEL BORDEAUX
SEVENTEEN
ENERGY MANIPULATOR
THEME SONG
TWIN BROTHER}

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

---

Victor was born seventeen minutes before Vanessa, their mother, Patricia and father Michael never expected twins. Something that Victor, in the heat of sibling rivalry, would remind 'young' Nessa of frequently. Victor got his name after Patricia's brother, William, who changed his name to Viktor in his adult life, following his fascination with the character Dr.Doom in the Fantastic Four comics.

Viktor was one of the many who died during the dark eclipse. Loss wasn't new for Patricia, and Michael, who was already engaged to Patricia at this point. Michael was a rocket scientist, and was one of the many people who were responsible for putting man on the moon. Our first true step into the unknown, leaving the cradle for a brief moment.

Victor was the first son in the family, and growing up in the 70's and coming into his adolescent in the 80's, it put a certain stigma on the young Victor. He never quite fit the mold. He wasn't one who yearned for sports or social gatherings, he liked reading, movies and music. Sure, he played basketball with the other kids and was good at baseball, but his real passion lied in the arts. He enjoyed acting and poetry. Hobbies that earned him the sporty nickname 'faggot' by his peers in his teens.

Victor's relationship with Vanessa was always at the center of both of their lives, they weren't the typical twins once they started growing up, they had different hobbies and different circles of friends, but at the end of the day, the thing they both enjoyed the most was each other's company. His sister was the only one who could make him smile so much, laugh till his stomach hurts and help him get over whatever girl it was he had written a poem to that week.

Vic's a bit of an outsider, not to say he can't make friends, but he's not one to make lasting, deep connections on the first try.

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:

---

A B I L I T I E S:

---

N O T E S:

---

The Blighted Kingdom

"LUCKY"

---

His feet were pattering slowly on the ground. He wasn't in the mood. He wasn't in the mood for any of this. He had just met the man himself. The big guy. The most powerful man in all of Vassidia, if not the world. And Aborran had told him lies. Nothing but absolute lies. None of it could be true. These thoughts made Alvar angry. His feet picked up speed. He needed to hit something. Break something, before he broke.

He began running, running to the only place he knew. He went home. To the old chapel. To where his boys were, his brothers would welcome him with open arms. He climbed a wall, using it as leverage to jump onto a ladder, climbing onto the balcony, vaulting over the railing and then out the other side, jumping up onto the wall, grabbing onto the ledge and pulling himself up. Days like these, when all he wanted to do was run, he came to appreciate that years on the streets had given him fingers as strong as fishhooks.

He stood up, watching the moon howl in the sky, lighting the city in a mellow, somber light. The city was quiet. Quarantine had done that to the capital. The city that never sleeps was now in a coma. And Aborran, the bastard, said that Alvar could wake it from it's deep slumber. He hated that assumption. The very idea, the things the Wizard had told him, they didn't match with the way his life had been. He leapt over the rooftop, onto the next. His feet picking up speed, his breaths got more shallow, quicker. His heart rate picked up, and a bead of sweat began forming on his forehead as he pushed hard on the next jump, it was a big gap. Flailing his arms in the air with great intent, he just made the jump, rolling on the rooftop, the tile weren't soft. But the hardness of the city had formed him into the man he was today.

The Chapel was just a few more blocks away. Another jump, this one smaller, he didn't even need to roll here. He just kept on running once he hit the roof. Grabbing a flag hanging outside of the facade of the building, he used it for leverage to make a gap too big to jump. He landed on his shoulder, rolling on his side to brace. He was getting a little tired. And yet, the anger hadn't washed off him. He climbed back onto his feet and pushed on. Almost home.

He climbed up the garrison tower in the Chapel Quarter, the guards had all abandoned their post in this area. Nobody cared what happened to this place, except the people that lived there.

And there it was. The Chapel. His home. Brother Eli had lit the torches, almost to guide him. Alvar climbed down, sliding down the waterways, coming jogging towards the front port, opening it up, he spoke, loudly.

"Guess who's home?!" He shouted, and words filled the room. The youngest brothers were asleep, but they woke up to find Alvar coming home. Two of them came running at him.

"Alvar! You're home! Are you okay?!" The bigger of the two, Gus, asked, while Oscar jumped into his arms, he hugged them both. Nodding.
"Yeah. You know me. No guards can harm Alvar." He said, arrogance showing. He was putting on as much bluster as possible. He couldn't really let them in on how he was feeling. He was their leader and the closest thing to a father figure some of these kids had. He couldn't show his weakness.

"Go wake up your bigger siblings, Oscar." He told the boy in his arms.
"I need to speak with Himler and Taj." He told Gus. Gus nodded and ran off to find Himler and Taj. Alvar removed his drenched jacket, hanging it on one of the homemade hangers, kicked off his boots that were also wet, and removed his shirt. A few fresh new bruises covered his torso, but that was hardly something new after a few nights in jail. He had ran into one of the older members of the Wolf Gang inside, and promptly thrashed him, and his two friends. Guards had to break up the fight. They never did that.

Alvar grabbed the cloth bandages and began bandaging up his ribs, and then his left shoulder where he had torn a stitch from a few weeks ago. He should've re-done the stitches, but there was no time. Once he was done, he got dressed again, a slightly less torn and dirty tunic, and a mostly clean leather jacket. He had stolen it from a trader in the upper district, it was meant for a knight, and was therefor padded in the vital areas. He strapped on the hardened shoulder pads and elbow guards he always wore when a fight was brewing, and grabbed his best pair of boots. The ones without any holes. He opened the chest that was under his bed after he had pulled it up and placed it on said bed. Opened it up, it revealed the wrapped sword and the leather bracers he had gotten from Yoseth so long ago. They never fit when he was a kid. But he was a man now. He tightened them and put the sword over his shoulder. He didn't own a sword belt or even a proper sheath for the blade, the one he owned he had made himself, and it barely covered half the blade. The strap rested in his hand as he filled his satchel with his necessities are Taj walked in.

"Alvar?" Taj asked, surprised.
"What's going on? We getting ready for a fight?" He asked, as Alvar put the first-aid supplies into the bag. Finishing it all off by putting in the bottle of whiskey he had been saving in the satchel, closing it. He turned.

"There's plenty wrong, Taj. I don't have time to properly explain everything. Is Himler out there?" Taj nodded, and Alvar motioned that he should bring the other boy.

Taj and Himler were the same age, they had come to the Lost Sons at the same time. They were big and mean, and they respected Alvar above all else. They were his best soldiers, Taj a better fighter than Himler. But Himler was far better at taking care of the chapel. He was the only one who could cook, and he was great with the young ones.

"I have to leave. It's urgent, and I can't tell you why, because you'll be in danger. Just know that I'm doing it for you, for all of you. And if all goes well, when I come back, we'll be living like kings." Alvar told them, bluntly. They both tried to object, but Alvar put his hand up, and they both shut up.

"I don't wanna hear it. I... I can't hear it, boys. You're my brothers. I've watched you grow up. And that's why I know you're ready to take the lead while I'm gone. When you two work together, you're unstoppable. If there's any two boys who can keep the Lost Sons in line, it's you two. You'll both become better man than me. And I'm so very proud of you." Alvar said, his voice almost breaking several times, Taj had a tear running down his face and Himler still couldn't quite understand.

Alvar walked towards them, putting his hand on each of their shoulders.

"Please, lend me your strength so I can put a brave face on for the others. You may doubt me this time, or be angry with me. You can fight me about it when I come home." He said, cracking a slight smile, his eyes watering. He quickly wiped it away, as he walked through the doorway, seeing all of the other 14 boys sitting in a circle, waiting for him.

"Boys. I got a tip in Jail for the biggest score yet." Alvar began, bravado filling his voice.
"But, sadly. It's a score that's far away, and none of you ladies are prepared to go the distance like that." He taunted them, and they boo'd him. Laughing.
"And I must leave. I promise I won't be gone long, but when I come back, we will be living like kings." He simply said. It wasn't the first time he had been gone, and the boys were all incredibly independent.

He heard the rain starting pouring outside.

He opened his satchel and got out his bottle.
"Join me for a drink, my friends." He told them, and all of them managed to find a glass of really cheap beer, even the smallest of the kids, Oscar was after all just seven. But he was putting on a straight face, just like all the others.

"Here's to us. The Lost Boys of Vassidia. May the fire never go out in our chests and may we never go hungry again!" They all cheered in unison. Taj and Himler both lifted their glasses in solidarity. Hiding their sadness, anger and worry, just like Alvar did. He was their leader, in a sense, their king. And he had to leave them. He hated it.

The four chugs of the burning whiskey were the longest chugs of his entire life. He wanted to stretch this moment into infinity. He'd do anything to just stay here, party with the older boys and play with the young ones. Teach them how to fight, to cook and sew. To just feel at home.

But if he didn't leave, there would be no home to love. So he put away the bottle, put on his cloak and walked towards the main courtyard, where this shadowy cabal of rogues and outlaws would gather to take on a task too dangerous for anyone else to know about.

One Piece: A Golden Age, A Dark Age - The Boozehound Chronicles

Chester fell asleep during Momo's monologue. She explained the inner-workings of the business, sitting down next to the Pirate. Whom was sitting with his legs crossed, a bubble popping out of his nose, only to get popped by his absent-minded hand grabbing a bottle and taking a swig.

"Do you understand, Boss Chester?" The older lady asked, and Chester kept sleeping. The lady repeated, and Kuhn lightly nudged Chester with his leg, making Chester open his eye up.

"That's... That's a lot to take in." The pirate mumbled. Kuhn cleared his throat.

"It's also... Really freaking stupid. And boring. You're boring me." He abruptly spoke, and the lieutenants all raised eyebrows at him. Boring him? How?

"Is this really what you guys do? Paperwork and talking? Where's the plundering, the crime?!" He asked, and one of the lieutenants piped up, he was pretty reserved in his style, donning a blue coat over a standard shirt and slacks combo.
"I'm Mars. Mars Mellow. And I've got a pretty mean racketering gig going on back on my island of Puffcream."

Chester blinked his eyes in disbelief. Both at the words said, and the names the man in blue before him had just spouted.
"You made that all up. Every last word." Chester said, promptly, and Mr. Mellow shook his head.

"No, this is our primary income. Racketeering, money loaning and tax-fraud."

"We pay tax?" Chester asked, a horrified look on his face. And Momo nodded, decisively.

"This is so DAMN BORING." Chester added, standing up.

"I quit." Chester demanded, exhaling sharply from his nose, and the liutenants all glared at him.
"You can't quit, you're the boss!" Momo said to him, trying to reason with him, and Chester shook his head.

"Not just that." He said, taking a step forward to Mars, ripping the sleeve off his blue coat from him.

"I am disbanding the azure company. You guys suck at being criminals and you give us pirates a bad word."

"You mean name, cap'n." Kuhn corrected him.

"A bad name." Chester said.

"So as my final act as boss of this sorry lot of goons, I disband you. Shoo. Go rob some old-ladies on your own." He said, trying to sho' them away. Momo laughed under her breath.

"Fufufu, you can't do that, Chester. You leave the company, and someone else will take your place as boss." She mentioned, and Chester dashed over to her, pushing his face into hers. Glaring at her. The lady flinched, but wasn't intimidated.

"I'm the strongest in the company. That means my might is right. And any of you who do not want to disband this fucking sorry excuse for a crew, are more than welcome to come and fight me."

"Just remember that I beat Cerulean." The pirate spoke, his words were cold and menacingly, and even Momo was taken a-back by it. Kuhn whistled in approval.

The Curse of Crestwood Hollow - A Hyperhuman Story

You know papa's down.