First rule of Secondaries: Who's available from Gotham.
For transparency, this is a joke. I'm a Joker.
But not a smoker nor a midnight toker.
For transparency, this is a joke. I'm a Joker.
But not a smoker nor a midnight toker.
Lord Wraith
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Thunderbringer
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Bio
Reluctantly retired roleplayer.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
Except when I'm not.
Why are you here when you should be writing posts?
You can edit a bad draft, but you cannot edit a blank page.
Most Recent Posts
Finally had a moment to catch up on what I'd been missing in the IC. Y'all have been cooking with gas.
Looking forward to seeing you everything starts coming together.
Looking forward to seeing you everything starts coming together.
This looks really good but I've rarely played as straight up no-twists no-fusions no-offspring-OCs pure canon heroes before. I wonder who'd be a good fit.
They don't have to be pure canon. They can be reinventions or reinterpretations. Bucky is Steve's son for example, Dick Grayson is going to be training Terry McGinnis etc.
She hated that photo.
Dick’s eyes were drawn to the face-down frame while the raven-haired beauty slept next to him. No matter how many times he righted that picture of him and Babs, every time Helena stepped into this room, it always ended face down.
Not that Babs herself was particularly fond of it. Her hair was still matted from the cowl, and pizza sauce was on the corner of her mouth. But for Dick, it had always been her smile, the genuine candidness of the moment. Despite everything Bruce had put them through, forced them to endure, they had each other in the quiet moments.
There was no one else in the world like Barbara Gordon.
But Barbara Gordon may as well have been on a different planet. Dick’s eyes moved to the ceiling of his apartment, staring at the slowly spinning fan directly over the bed. He had been only twelve years old when he was introduced to a world of crime-fighting. He was only double that in age now, but his body felt as though he had already put it through several lifetimes.
“Be glad I only put it face down.”
“Hmm?” Dick murmured, Helena’s voice stirring him out of the labyrinth of thoughts he had found himself entangled in.
“The picture of her,” Helena rolled over, propping herself up on an elbow before tracing her finger up and down Dick’s bare chest. “I don’t share well.”
“No one’s asking you to.”
“You are,” Helena replied, her warm breath brushing up against Dick’s ear beneath the tousled mess of hair that hung from his head. “Every time you put it back, you’re reminding me that part of you still belongs to her.”
“Babs and I are ancient history; we’re not compatible.”
“Mhmm,” Helena whispered in breathy contralto tones, her leg sliding over Dick’s pelvis before she pulled herself atop him. Seemingly endless locks of ink-black hair danced across his chest as playful bites raised Dick to attention.
“Are we compatible, Richard?”
“I’d say a perfect fit, really,” Dick replied as his eyes rolled back, ripples of ecstasy washing over his body. Helena smiled, biting her bottom lip as she looked at the man between her legs. Even with his alter ego forcibly retired, Dick Grayson was still every bit the man she had met atop the rooftops of Gotham in one of their many masked escapades.
“I’m going to bring you to the edge, and then you’re going to beg.” Helena bent down, whispering in the younger man’s ear, skin touching skin as she felt his cheeks flush. Her hands gripped his shoulders, slowly drawing closer and closer to his collarbone. Dick could feel every hair on his body stand on end, electrified and then suddenly a hand touched his neck.
He felt her grip tighten around his neck.
Rain.
It smelled like rain and gunpowder. Whose blood was on his hands?
Katrina?
Dick recoiled beneath Helena, the room closing in from all sides as he struggled to free himself from beneath her, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His right leg was struggling to move suddenly, hanging limply while Dick hung his head, interlacing his fingers behind his neck and taking a deep breath.
“Richard?” Helena cooed softly, her hand circling his back before she brought herself alongside him, wrapping her toned body in the loose sheet.
“Richard, come back to me. You’re safe here, you’re safe with me.” She stated, pulling his head to his chest as Dick fought back bitter tears. Whiteknuckled fists gripped the edge of the bed.
The smell of a perfume mixed with sweat and grime assaulted his nostrils while rain pelted his face. He tried to form words, but the shock swallowed them. A hand tore at his waist, and the sharp pain of friction set his skin on fire.
“Get off me!” He managed weakly.
“GET OFF ME!” Dick suddenly roared, launching himself from the bed. His right leg held his weight enough to take a step forward before it collapsed beneath him. He caught himself by his left knee before sprawling across the floor.
“I’ll kill her,” Helena stated, kneeling beside Dick before reaching for a glass of water. “If she ever sets foot in Blüdhaven again, I will kill her, Richard.”
“No,” Dick replied weakly, “Helena, you can’t,”
Helena’s nose wrinkled in disgust at Dick’s protests. She saw his mouth moving, but all she heard was Bruce’s voice. She would not let such an assault stand against her without taking vengeance. How freely Dick was willing to forgive and let go was beyond her. In some ways, she envied it. He lived totally in the moment, rolling with each instant as they came, never looking back and always looking towards where he was going.
In moments like this, Helena was reminded that Dick was used to leaping without a net; he had learned to love the falling, to relish in the letting go of control, and it made him dangerously infectious to be around.
“Oh, trust me, I’m very capable of it.” She stood before extending an arm. “Here, let's get you up.” Helena’s eyes pivoted towards Dick’s leg.
“I’d wager your pointy-eared father figure has a contact who could get that fixed for you.”
She commented, deflecting from the tension that hung between them. She knew Grayson was suffering from post-traumatic stress after Blockbuster’s death, but Helena hadn’t figured out all the details, let alone all the triggers, yet. She had promised herself she wasn’t going to get attached, but…
Those eyes, those damn eyes.
He looked at her with the weight of the world. You’d think he was Atlas with the way he carried himself, his shoulders burdened with responsibilities put there by a man who could have benefited from therapy more than a fast car and a long cape.
Not that Helena was in any position to judge.
“I can’t become Nightwing again, Helena. I failed.” Dick’s protest stirred Helena back to the present. Once he was stabilized, she found a t-shirt discarded on the floor and pulled it over herself, the length shorter than she would have liked for lounging, but Dick was sure to enjoy the tease.
Anything to distract from whatever demons he was fighting in his head.
“I broke every rule I stood for.”
At this point, he sounded like a broken record to Helena. He remained willfully injured despite living in a privileged world full of alien technology and literal magic. It would be as easy as the snap of her fingers for Dick to pick up the phone and arrange treatment for himself.
No, instead Nightwing chose to play wounded wing, blinded by his own perception instead of being able to see the good he’d done. It bothered Helena more than she could admit, but she kept finding reasons to stay. No one had ever made her feel the way Dick did; around him, she felt wanted.
For the first time in Helena’s life, she didn’t feel like the broken bird.
“Unfortunately for you, Stud Wonder, you’re the only resident of Blüdhaven that sees it that way. Blockbuster’s death means safer streets for everyone. Trafficking is down across the board. Stats are the lowest the city has seen since they started tracking them.”
“Then we’re in a pressure cooker, and it’s only a matter of time before it blows.” Dick deadpanned. However, Helena knew enough about organized crime to recognize the truth to his barb.
“Or you could enjoy it while it lasts,” Helena replied, while helping Dick to a chair at the table. “How do you take your coffee?”
Dick raised an eyebrow at the question.
“Dumb question, for a moment I forgot who raised you,” Helena teased, “Black as tar and hot as hell coming right up.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I know,” Helena interjected, “But I choose to, Richard. Enjoy it while it lasts.” She stated, opening the cupboard door.
“Seriously? Instant? Aren’t you rich? And yet you can’t even afford a simple Moka pot?”
“Takes too long, sometimes I just eat a spoonful of the powder to get going.” Dick smiled weakly, already sensing the judgment coming his way.
Helena was raised in Sicily; to her, coffee was never going to be powder and hot water. Like Helena herself, Sicilian coffee is an intense, dark, and smoky roast. It wasn’t about convenience or consumption; there was an art to it, intention and experience.
Everything that his relationship with Helena had brought to his life.
“This relationship might be a lot shorter than I thought after that statement,” Helena replied, spinning around.
“We’re going shopping,”
“I like you better naked, though,” Dick smiled wryly.
“Uh-huh, I knew that.” Helena retorted, her eyes darting downwards, “But we can’t lie about all day, I have classes to teach and so do you.” She snapped her fingers.
“Shopping, work and then more naked time.”
“Something to look forward to then.” Dick winced as he stood, grabbing a nearby remote to turn on the television. From the bathroom, the sound of the shower echoed through the apartment.
“Of course, you could join me-” Helena called out, “Y’know, so I can ensure you don’t fall.”
“Be right-”
“Nightwing, hero or murderer?” The TV suddenly blared as the latest headlines rolled across the screen.
“We’re live at the Blüdhaven harbour, where police this morning are cleaning up several bodies left in the wake of yet another Nightwing attack.” The reporter continued. “The victims were found scattered between several open crates carrying illegal firearms that were smuggled into the country by ship. Initially, evidence points to blunt force trauma as the prevailing cause of death.”
Dick’s hand curled into a fist before the camera panned out to reveal the Romani symbol of rebirth sketched out on the pavement of the Port in blood.
“The vigilante left behind a calling card we can only assume is a warning to others. Blüdhaven Police have issued a warrant for his arrest, and an effective BOLO is active throughout the city. If you see any sign of Nightwing, please immediately dial 9-1-1.”
Suddenly, he released the fist and pulled himself off the car, gingerly limping while leaning against the table before steadying himself and hobbling towards the bathroom.
He wasn’t Nightwing anymore.
This was not his problem.
Dick’s eyes were drawn to the face-down frame while the raven-haired beauty slept next to him. No matter how many times he righted that picture of him and Babs, every time Helena stepped into this room, it always ended face down.
Not that Babs herself was particularly fond of it. Her hair was still matted from the cowl, and pizza sauce was on the corner of her mouth. But for Dick, it had always been her smile, the genuine candidness of the moment. Despite everything Bruce had put them through, forced them to endure, they had each other in the quiet moments.
There was no one else in the world like Barbara Gordon.
But Barbara Gordon may as well have been on a different planet. Dick’s eyes moved to the ceiling of his apartment, staring at the slowly spinning fan directly over the bed. He had been only twelve years old when he was introduced to a world of crime-fighting. He was only double that in age now, but his body felt as though he had already put it through several lifetimes.
“Be glad I only put it face down.”
“Hmm?” Dick murmured, Helena’s voice stirring him out of the labyrinth of thoughts he had found himself entangled in.
“The picture of her,” Helena rolled over, propping herself up on an elbow before tracing her finger up and down Dick’s bare chest. “I don’t share well.”
“No one’s asking you to.”
“You are,” Helena replied, her warm breath brushing up against Dick’s ear beneath the tousled mess of hair that hung from his head. “Every time you put it back, you’re reminding me that part of you still belongs to her.”
“Babs and I are ancient history; we’re not compatible.”
“Mhmm,” Helena whispered in breathy contralto tones, her leg sliding over Dick’s pelvis before she pulled herself atop him. Seemingly endless locks of ink-black hair danced across his chest as playful bites raised Dick to attention.
“Are we compatible, Richard?”
“I’d say a perfect fit, really,” Dick replied as his eyes rolled back, ripples of ecstasy washing over his body. Helena smiled, biting her bottom lip as she looked at the man between her legs. Even with his alter ego forcibly retired, Dick Grayson was still every bit the man she had met atop the rooftops of Gotham in one of their many masked escapades.
“I’m going to bring you to the edge, and then you’re going to beg.” Helena bent down, whispering in the younger man’s ear, skin touching skin as she felt his cheeks flush. Her hands gripped his shoulders, slowly drawing closer and closer to his collarbone. Dick could feel every hair on his body stand on end, electrified and then suddenly a hand touched his neck.
He felt her grip tighten around his neck.
Rain.
It smelled like rain and gunpowder. Whose blood was on his hands?
Katrina?
Dick recoiled beneath Helena, the room closing in from all sides as he struggled to free himself from beneath her, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His right leg was struggling to move suddenly, hanging limply while Dick hung his head, interlacing his fingers behind his neck and taking a deep breath.
“Richard?” Helena cooed softly, her hand circling his back before she brought herself alongside him, wrapping her toned body in the loose sheet.
“Richard, come back to me. You’re safe here, you’re safe with me.” She stated, pulling his head to his chest as Dick fought back bitter tears. Whiteknuckled fists gripped the edge of the bed.
The smell of a perfume mixed with sweat and grime assaulted his nostrils while rain pelted his face. He tried to form words, but the shock swallowed them. A hand tore at his waist, and the sharp pain of friction set his skin on fire.
“Get off me!” He managed weakly.
“GET OFF ME!” Dick suddenly roared, launching himself from the bed. His right leg held his weight enough to take a step forward before it collapsed beneath him. He caught himself by his left knee before sprawling across the floor.
“I’ll kill her,” Helena stated, kneeling beside Dick before reaching for a glass of water. “If she ever sets foot in Blüdhaven again, I will kill her, Richard.”
“No,” Dick replied weakly, “Helena, you can’t,”
Helena’s nose wrinkled in disgust at Dick’s protests. She saw his mouth moving, but all she heard was Bruce’s voice. She would not let such an assault stand against her without taking vengeance. How freely Dick was willing to forgive and let go was beyond her. In some ways, she envied it. He lived totally in the moment, rolling with each instant as they came, never looking back and always looking towards where he was going.
In moments like this, Helena was reminded that Dick was used to leaping without a net; he had learned to love the falling, to relish in the letting go of control, and it made him dangerously infectious to be around.
“Oh, trust me, I’m very capable of it.” She stood before extending an arm. “Here, let's get you up.” Helena’s eyes pivoted towards Dick’s leg.
“I’d wager your pointy-eared father figure has a contact who could get that fixed for you.”
She commented, deflecting from the tension that hung between them. She knew Grayson was suffering from post-traumatic stress after Blockbuster’s death, but Helena hadn’t figured out all the details, let alone all the triggers, yet. She had promised herself she wasn’t going to get attached, but…
Those eyes, those damn eyes.
He looked at her with the weight of the world. You’d think he was Atlas with the way he carried himself, his shoulders burdened with responsibilities put there by a man who could have benefited from therapy more than a fast car and a long cape.
Not that Helena was in any position to judge.
“I can’t become Nightwing again, Helena. I failed.” Dick’s protest stirred Helena back to the present. Once he was stabilized, she found a t-shirt discarded on the floor and pulled it over herself, the length shorter than she would have liked for lounging, but Dick was sure to enjoy the tease.
Anything to distract from whatever demons he was fighting in his head.
“I broke every rule I stood for.”
At this point, he sounded like a broken record to Helena. He remained willfully injured despite living in a privileged world full of alien technology and literal magic. It would be as easy as the snap of her fingers for Dick to pick up the phone and arrange treatment for himself.
No, instead Nightwing chose to play wounded wing, blinded by his own perception instead of being able to see the good he’d done. It bothered Helena more than she could admit, but she kept finding reasons to stay. No one had ever made her feel the way Dick did; around him, she felt wanted.
For the first time in Helena’s life, she didn’t feel like the broken bird.
“Unfortunately for you, Stud Wonder, you’re the only resident of Blüdhaven that sees it that way. Blockbuster’s death means safer streets for everyone. Trafficking is down across the board. Stats are the lowest the city has seen since they started tracking them.”
“Then we’re in a pressure cooker, and it’s only a matter of time before it blows.” Dick deadpanned. However, Helena knew enough about organized crime to recognize the truth to his barb.
“Or you could enjoy it while it lasts,” Helena replied, while helping Dick to a chair at the table. “How do you take your coffee?”
Dick raised an eyebrow at the question.
“Dumb question, for a moment I forgot who raised you,” Helena teased, “Black as tar and hot as hell coming right up.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I know,” Helena interjected, “But I choose to, Richard. Enjoy it while it lasts.” She stated, opening the cupboard door.
“Seriously? Instant? Aren’t you rich? And yet you can’t even afford a simple Moka pot?”
“Takes too long, sometimes I just eat a spoonful of the powder to get going.” Dick smiled weakly, already sensing the judgment coming his way.
Helena was raised in Sicily; to her, coffee was never going to be powder and hot water. Like Helena herself, Sicilian coffee is an intense, dark, and smoky roast. It wasn’t about convenience or consumption; there was an art to it, intention and experience.
Everything that his relationship with Helena had brought to his life.
“This relationship might be a lot shorter than I thought after that statement,” Helena replied, spinning around.
“We’re going shopping,”
“I like you better naked, though,” Dick smiled wryly.
“Uh-huh, I knew that.” Helena retorted, her eyes darting downwards, “But we can’t lie about all day, I have classes to teach and so do you.” She snapped her fingers.
“Shopping, work and then more naked time.”
“Something to look forward to then.” Dick winced as he stood, grabbing a nearby remote to turn on the television. From the bathroom, the sound of the shower echoed through the apartment.
“Of course, you could join me-” Helena called out, “Y’know, so I can ensure you don’t fall.”
“Be right-”
“Nightwing, hero or murderer?” The TV suddenly blared as the latest headlines rolled across the screen.
“We’re live at the Blüdhaven harbour, where police this morning are cleaning up several bodies left in the wake of yet another Nightwing attack.” The reporter continued. “The victims were found scattered between several open crates carrying illegal firearms that were smuggled into the country by ship. Initially, evidence points to blunt force trauma as the prevailing cause of death.”
Dick’s hand curled into a fist before the camera panned out to reveal the Romani symbol of rebirth sketched out on the pavement of the Port in blood.
“The vigilante left behind a calling card we can only assume is a warning to others. Blüdhaven Police have issued a warrant for his arrest, and an effective BOLO is active throughout the city. If you see any sign of Nightwing, please immediately dial 9-1-1.”
Suddenly, he released the fist and pulled himself off the car, gingerly limping while leaning against the table before steadying himself and hobbling towards the bathroom.
He wasn’t Nightwing anymore.
This was not his problem.
It warms the cockles of my cold, dead heart to see the thread so active.
<Snipped quote by Ruby>
If you can hear meat loaf I recommend you stop using psychedelic mushrooms in your recipe
I'd do anything for love, but I won't do that.
Reposting again now that I've gotten it to a finished state:N I G H T W I N G
N I G H T W I N G
"How do you get 'Dick' from Richard?"__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
_________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y_________________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
Richard 'Dick' John Grayson // Terrence 'Terry' Warren McGinnis
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24 // 19 | American_________________________________________________________S U P P O R T I N G C A S T
S U P P O R T I N G C A S T_________________________________________________________P O S T C A T A L O G U E
P O S T C A T A L O G U EXX - Post Name
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C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P TBlüdhaven.
A wretched hive of scum and villainy.
A cesspool built from Gotham's runoff, anything that doesn't put roots down in Gotham gets flushed into the city-like sewer known as Blüdhaven. A port town, Blüdhaven got its start as a whaling town before becoming an industrial port. The sky is layered in a thick cloud of smog, while streets are constantly filled with fog due to the miles of antique boiler pipe laid beneath cobblestone streets hastily repaired with asphalt and concrete.
But for a brief moment, the city had hope in the form of its very own Bright Knight.
Richard 'Dick' Grayson, the former protegé and Robin of Gotham's Batman, outgrew the shadow of his mentor's cape and, after a soul-finding journey, adopted a symbol of rebirth he learned from a distant Romani relative. From the ashes of Robin rose Nightwing, who took to the streets of Blüdhaven, using the best tricks learned from the Bat to inject fear into the superstitious and cowardly lot that preyed on the vulnerable.
But years of war against the crimelord known as Blockbuster took their toll, eventually driving Dick Grayson to his breaking point, and in a final confrontation, Dick was left maimed and traumatized while Blockbuster was killed.
A former vigilante turned recluse, Dick Grayson has reluctantly enjoyed a simpler life, managing a gymnastics facility and becoming a superintendent over a small apartment complex. However, a new Nightwing has appeared in Blüdhaven, and with it, a trail of bodies, brutally killed by blunt force trauma.
Unable to allow his legacy to be tarnished and fear turned against the people of Blüdhaven, Dick is forced out of his mandated retirement.
The Bright Knight Returns.__________________________________________________________________________________P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )As most of you already know, Dick Grayson is my favourite character in all of comics, and Batman Beyond was a show I basically grew up on. The idea of combining the two is highly appealing revisiting some of my favourite posts I've written over the years with Terry in the tights and a reluctant Dick playing the role of the guy in the chair. Will Dick recover from his injury? I doubt it, but a story of mistaken identity and legacy is certainly looking like a lot of fun to write while also integrating both Dick and Terry into a larger world that contains allies and foes alike from their respective histories.
What you as a reader can expect are episodic posts exploring Terry growing into his new role as the protector of Blüdhaven while Dick is forced to rapidly mature as a mentor and perpetual big brother, founding his own 'Wing-family' with the help of everyone's favourite black sheep, Helena Bertinelli."You ask, nicely."___
Here's my favorite hero. Also I broke the code. Someone should fix it for me...please.CAPTAIN AMERICA
WINTER SOLDIER
"Dad was a hero. Me? Not so much."__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
_________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y_________________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
James Buchanan Rogers
_________________________________________________________
81 | Married
_________________________________________________________
SHIELD | American_________________________________________________________A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S
A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S_________________________________________________________P O S T C A T A L O G U E
P O S T C A T A L O G U EXX - Post Name
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T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...Eighty-one years ago, love bloomed upon the battlefield. Steve Rogers, The hero known as Captain America, and US agent Peggy Carter would find each other through the chaos of World War II, producing a son together after the war had been won. James Buchanan Rogers would be something special, the super soldier serum pumping through his veins thanks to has father being the world's first super soldier. A widely sought after child, Steve and Peggy were constantly having to protect the child from forces that wanted to take him for their own agendas.
James, aka Bucky as coined by his father, would grow up within SHIELD, the agency started by his mother, always watching his parents do what they do best, fight the good fight. Eventually the role of sidekick would be bestowed upon the boy, learning and fighting against those that would seek to harm the people of America, a strenuous activity that many a times left Steve and James at odds, James feeling as though his father held him to impossible standards. This would lead to one of the most pivotal turning points of their lives.
A sect of HYDRA would attempt to assassinate Steve Rogers, bringing down an entire building. Fortunately Steve survived the attack, unfortunately Peggy Carter would not survive the attack and Bucky would end up losing his left arm. This would create a lasting rift between Steve and Bucky, the son believing that they could have done more to protect Peggy while the husband fell into a depressive state, unable to comfort his son.
Peggy's death would push Bucky to acquiring a metal arm and becoming a shadow agent under SHEILD. IF he couldn't bring peace to the world in the way his father once did, then he'd do it from the shadows, doing the things that would not be deemed heroic. Steve Rogers may face the world eye to eye but Bucky slits the throat of those that seek to harm it.__________________________________________________________________________________P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )I want to present a Winter Soldier that has his life together currently and has to face the world once things start going to shit. The intrigue of changing the relationship between Steve and Bucky from best friends to father and son is high and brings forth different ideas that I can delve into. Bucky will eventually become Captain America and he has to learn what it takes to be Captain America. In the comics, he only took the mantle to preserve Steve's legacy and disliked it while I want him to willingly decide to be Cap, have the hope for the world that his father lost while still being different in how he handles situations. Also his story will facilitate the rise of HYDRA in the present era, which should open avenues for events.
In regards to being a traveling hero, Bucky will travel at times. I want to do as many crossovers as possible and build the world."I'm the deadliest assassin on the planet."___
Since Wraith approved of the ideaSILVER RANGER
SILVER RANGER
"I am a Ranger, fighting evil is my job"__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
_________________________________________________________C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y_________________________________________________________
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
Zhane Kino Nouan
_________________________________________________________
24 | Korovian(Alien)_________________________________________________________S U P P O R T I N G C A S T
S U P P O R T I N G C A S T_________________________________________________________P O S T C A T A L O G U E
P O S T C A T A L O G U EXX - Post Name
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C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P TZhane, a Power Ranger from the planet of Korovia who like his team. Defended the planet from evil alongside his best friend, Andros. But when a centuries-old evil, the Death Ranger Spa'ark, breaks free from their prison and starts wrecking havoc on the planet. Zhane and the Rangers are called, and while they manage to kill the Death Ranger. This only caused Spa'ark to possess the closest Ranger, which happens to be Zhane. Which, while possessed by Spa'ark. They kill most of the team, and Andros dies freeing Zhane from Spa'ark's control. Only for Spa'ark to possess Andros's dead body.
After the fight, Spa'ark flees, stealing a spaceship and eventually crashing on Earth. Now with his team dead and his best friend's dead body possessed. Zhane, after recovering and tracking down Spa'ark to Earth. He heads to Earth to stop Spa'ark once and for all and to avenge his team and friends.
Not knowing what to expect on the planet, but Zhane has a mission, and he will do it or die trying.__________________________________________________________________________________P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )I wanted to play Zhane and a Power Ranger since I have a renewed interest in Power Rangers thanks to this site, and I have been wanting to tell a mature Power Ranger story on this site for some time. So after remembering how some Rangers were from another planet and doing research of the Power Ranger Comics. I found my muse and went with characters that I feel would help me the most, and ones I like.
But since I am playing a Power Ranger, I am not bringing everything from the show into the rp. There will be no zords or anything like that. Just a lone Ranger from another planet trying to stop another evil Ranger.
Which I plan while Zhane is trying to stop Spa'ark and avenge his team. He can still help others and do crossovers with others as he travels around the United States and maybe the world, tracking down an evil Ranger who is essentially a necromancer who seeks to stop death by controlling it. Meeting and helping other heroes in the process. Maybe even gain an enemy, it depends on who he meets and who he manages to piss off. Bringing an unexpected Power Ranger angle into the rp and one I hope people like."No more clownin' around, Power Silver"___
Team Nightwing, James Rogers and the Silver Ranger are accepted.
And I will never be typing that sentence again.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
The first part is admitting it. I'm proud of you.
You'd make a great politician.
@Lord Wraith, @Ruby, @Cyberlad, as our resident Batfamily (congrats!!), can I ask if any of you have designs on Scarecrow? I'm cooking up some ideas.
None for me as that's a more traditionally Bruce villain so I was giving him a wide berth.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
I'm surprised a sex scene maniac like you never played Overwatch. Pornhub was the only thing keeping the community alive lets be real.
lol I like writing intimate scenes as a meme at this point, I don't go out and actively seek them.
<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>
Her butt started a controversy
She's welcome to join the club with Nightwing and Rogue.
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