Nightraider

All-Star Marvel: Audax Mundus Novus - Season 2

Player Name: Nightraider
Character You Wish To Play:Moon knight
Alias: Marc Spector
Moral Alignment:Hero
Affiliation: None
Character Origin & Backstory:

Origin

Marc Spector is the son of a rabbi from Chicago. Marc rejected his father’s religion from a young age, becoming an atheist instead. Marc had an impressive career as a heavy boxer as an adult, going on to become a Marine and then a “consultant” to S.H.I.E.L.D. for a time. There he met William Cross, becoming partners for a time, before he was betrayed by Cross to a terrorist, Raoul Bushman and leaving him for dead. S.H.I.E.L.D. felt that Spector was now compromised and released them from their services. Disillusioned with the concepts of morality and justice after this encounter, Marc became a mercenary, creating a tenuous partnership with Jean-Paul Du Champ or “Frenchie”.
After taking a job from an anonymous source to disarm a dig site in Selima, Sudan; Spector found out that the job was ordered by Raoul Bushman. Marc’s resurgence of conscious made him reject the assignment and went to the dig site to warn one Dr. Peter Alraune. However, he found he was too late and the bloodthirsty fanatic had murdered Dr. Alraune. Once Bushman had threatened to kill the rest of the dig crew and eventually the town, Marc attacked Bushman and fought him in 1-to-1 hand-to-hand. Despite his Marine and fighting background, Bushman destroyed him, leaving him for dead. Marc dragged himself into the nearest shelter and collapsed in front of a nearby statue- a statue of the moon god Khonshu. There, Marc had a strange vision of a crescent moon turning to blood red as a voice from a strange robed being boomed of Marc’s “destiny”. Marc awoke hours later, mysteriously healed under the statue of Khonshu…the statue looking identical to the being in his vision.
He left the tomb, finding Dr. Arlaune’s daughter Marlene trying to trying to reclaim the broken pieces of her father’s work and life and that Bushman and his men had taken over the nearby town of Selima. Donning a cloak he had found upon the statue Khonshu, he, with a little help of Frenchie, decimated Bushman’s men, and faced Bushman once again. Only after being accidently distracted by Marlene was Bushman able to escape.
Marc returned to the States with Marlene and Frenchie, taking the money he had earned from his years of merc work and establish a new entrepreneur company named Spector Innovations Inc., funding many young and genius inventors and developers, trying to make good on his past mistakes as a mercenary. Marc also took the statue back with him, keeping it with him in his new apartment. Over several weeks, he began hearing the voice from the temple again, continual reminding him of his “destiny” and for weeks, Marc ignored the voice, believing it to be a result of some form of PTSD from his encounter with Bushman. He kept this private for as long as possible. However, after seeing all of the events of the masked vigilantes, the voice began making some interesting propositions to Spector…

Season 1 Summary: Marc was in Sudan pre-Season 1 and then, during the events of Season 1, he returned to New York and established Spector Innovations using the funds of his mercenary career, developing new technologies and partnerships with larger companies like A.I.M. and Stark Technologies.

Powers and Abilities:

Powers and Abilities:

While he has not fully embraced the title of “Moon Knight” yet, the plan is a mix of supernatural gifts and technological marvels “borrowed” from his company’s patents and projects.
Supernatural gifts: The god Khonshu has decided to gift Marc with enhanced strength, endurance, and reflexes are enhanced depending upon the phases of the moon. The fuller the moon, the more power Marc can derive from it. Even on a new moon, his strength is higher than that of a normal human.
Tech: Once he realises that he’ll need more than strength to be in this vigilante game, Marc is going to dip into his company’s special projects and see what he can tailor to his new path in life. Special line cable mini-launchers, new omni-directional drones and concealable wrist launchers are all under the special projects of Spector Innovations Inc.

Sample Story Arcs:
A Spectacular Start: Spector slowly becomes the Moon Knight, and encounters his first real foe in the Committee.
Two in the Hand: Spector hasn’t forgotten about Bushman and is on the hunt for his new nemesis.
The Guardian’s S.H.I.E.L.D.: Spector is contacted by S.H.I.E.L.D. through his company with an interesting offer and some startling information.
The Knights of the Roundtable: As Spector gains infamy, copycat villains and walking the line fellows begin emulating him, in the form of Black Spectre and Shadow Knight.

Sample Post:
Marc stood close to the window, staring down at the bright lights below, only the sheet of glass separating him from the thin air and the dizzying drop. He twirled the glass in his hand, covering the ice in the thick, golden syrup liquid before taking a soft swig, letting it burn his throat. He’d just spent the last 5 hours debating, negotiating and playfully antagonising the Director of Operations at Cybertek Industries on acquiring the shared rights on a new patent for an exo-skeleton suit. He smirked to himself, thinking about how he’d run rings around that snobby ass suit. The battlefield may have changed, but the tactics were still the same…

”Speaking of the battlefield…”

A cold sensation washed over the back of Marc’s neck as the Voice spoke from behind him. At least, he thought It was behind him. It always sounded like it was coming from there. He turned slowly, his fingers tightening around the glass.

”We discussed this already. The fight is over. We’re not going back.”

The Voice chuckled in the darkness. A soft, condescending chuckle. ”You make it sound like you have a choice, Marc Spector. I’ve already told you, it’s your…”

”…Destiny, right. I keep forgetting. Or I would if You didn’t remind me every day.”
Again, the chuckle came from the darkness towards the back of the penthouse apartment. ”You still believe Me to be a figment of your mortal imagination. I may be in your head, Marc Spector, but I am most definitely My own free agency. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Marc shifted uncomfortably, draining the last of the whiskey in the glass, letting it burn again, burn his senses away.

”That is why you do not go to your modern medicine men. That is why your free time reading those parchments and watching those pictures about those powerful beings, those other gods. It is because you know, Marc Spector, deep down, you know. You’ve felt it.”

”SHUT UP!” Marc launched the empty glass into the darkness, hearing the smash of the crystal against the back wall as he stared into the darkness, his eyes adjusting and fixing themselves on Him. The statue he had brought back from Sudan. The statue from the tomb. The statue of Khonshu.

Marc trembled, not because he was scared of the Voice, but because he was scared the voice was right. He had felt it. Ever since he’d returned, he’d found himself sleeping less and less, 3-4 hours a night, sometimes less. But he was never tired, never weary. He began attending a nearby 24-hour gym to try burn off the extra energy, running, weights, boxing again, whatever he could. It was there he found something else was happening to him. He could sprint for miles and miles at a time and never lose a breath or break a sweat. He was lifting twice what he could before Sudan. He was quicker in reaction too, with his sparing partners barely being able to hit him.

One night, he felt stronger, faster and more animated than he’d felt before. He pulled a full sprint 30 mile without breaking a sweat and he benched over 600lbs to the astonishment of the other gym members. The strength and power was almost intoxicating to Marc. Over the next few days and weeks, the strength began to wane again however. He was still far more athletic than he had been but he was losing it. Then one night, the Voice spoke to him as he was leaving for the his nightly sessions, saying only ”Look to the moon, Marc Spector…”.

Marc looked into the inky black sky that night and found the moon, a silver curved line in the sky. He pulled out his phone and queried the cycle dates for the last week. He found that the night he’d pull those amazing feats of strength was also the night of the full moon. He rushed back to his apartment and demanded answers from the statue of Khonshu which, for the first time, was silent.

That was last week and the statue had offered little in the way of answers, instead constantly referring to Marc’s ‘destiny’. The Voice did not chuckle again as it spoke, the gravity in its tone catching Marc’s full attention.
”You have idled long enough, Marc Spector. You have been granted these gifts and a second chance by My hand and yet you still refuse it. There are those who make a difference in this mortal realm. You know this, you have watched them. I have given you the power to follow in their footsteps. Now, Marc Spector, I ask you: will you accept? Will you become My avatar? My knight?”

Marc stepped over to the nearby desk, grimly silent. He sat in the lush chair, grasping over to take the bottle of whiskey and pulling it close. He reached down to the bottom drawer, the drawer he never opened, that he never wanted to open. He slid it open as he could almost feel the eyes of the statue on him, the Voice awaiting his answer. Well, he’d give It a damn good answer…

Marc pulled out a file, a black, brown file envelope and pulled it open, the contents spilling slightly over the desktop. These were the Special Projects from Spector Innovations, everything Spector had kept off the main data banks of the Innovations HQ. He didn’t really know why, he just had. He thumbed through the design manifestos and concept drawings before sighing, pulling a swig from the bottle.
”Alright, what do I have to do?”

Somewhere in the darkness, the Voice smiled.

All-Star Marvel: Audax Mundus Novus - Season 2

@Nightraider I remember your work, was kinda sad I didn't get to run with you before.

Happy that I may get the chance now.

@Sep

Well if it helps, I think I've gotten a little better. Writing my own short stories and one novel for the last 2 years, plus a shit ton of college and D&D games have helped XD

All-Star Marvel: Audax Mundus Novus - Season 2

Hi guys. Doubt if you'd remember me from waaaay back, but after seeing your Season 2 post and now I have some actual free time, I was wondering if I could step back into the fray?

I was thinking about doing a spin on Winter Soldier (to be topical and whatnot) but I'd hate to break lil @Spud 's heart so I'll go for some other characters.

I was thinking a variant on Moonknight, nothing too dramatic, just exploring from Day 1 of his journey into a masked vigilante.
Also, on the villain side of things, I was looking into Bullseye, either as normal or maybe Lady Bullseye (making her just Bullseye in this case.)
Finally, depending on how I go in terms of writing, I may step back into Taskmaster's shoes, now that SHIELD is up and full running with some extra Agents, who knows.

Is that alright with the DM? I'll start on the CS's for tomorrow.

Ace High Straight (A Wild Cards (realistic, world driven superpowered) Casual/Adv. RPG)

Hey guys,

So I'll cut to the chase. For personal reasons that I'd rather not get into right now, I'll have to step away from this. It's not something I could have foreseen or planned for and I'm very sorry for wasting your guys time and creativity. I wish that this was something that could be done with in a few days but honestly, it'll be a few weeks before I could probably step back on here and even muster up the enthusiasm to get back into roleplaying.

Once again, I'm very sorry guys. I hope to see some of you in a few months and maybe get this rolling again.

Peace.

Nightraider.

Ace High Straight (A Wild Cards (realistic, world driven superpowered) Casual/Adv. RPG)

Sorry, I've been busy too, doing a lot of things. I'll post my sheet when I get home from work today.

@FantasyChic

That's OK. I've been hella busy myself with my new job.

Ace High Straight (A Wild Cards (realistic, world driven superpowered) Casual/Adv. RPG)

Sorry for the disappearing act guys, been busy with a new job. I'll be posting any and all acceptances of Characters over today and tomorrow.

@UrbanEvolution I get what you're saying. I guess I'm coming at this from a purely story point of view. If you do think we can do better, then by all means, throw out a suggestion. I'm never one to shy away from criticism

Ace High Straight (A Wild Cards (realistic, world driven superpowered) Casual/Adv. RPG)

@Nightraider
I did plan on something of the like, yes. I just felt that his sexuality shouldn't be made too much of a deal for the CS. I can elaborate on it in the History section, if you wish.

I also have a question on the whole "Power Crutches" thing you added to the OP.
Sissy doesn't have one. How much a "crutch" does he need? Does it need to be something physical, like having to cup his hands to form a flame (and then have it "spread" from there) or could it be something more mental, like having to imagine the flames or something along those lines?
Does the "crutch" get greater as the powers do? Like, the more power they have, the more extensive is their "crutch"? If that is the case, would something like cupping his hands to generate flames be too small of a "crutch" for such a massive power?

@The Mad Hatter

It was merely a suggestion or guess. I'm not telling you how to play your story out (at least, not yet). If you wish to elaborate more, by all means.

As for the "Crutches", it'll depend and differ per character but I'll give you some examples. So a character I introduced in the IC post, Peregrine, has these huge, angelic wings on her back and she can fly. However, she flies using telekinesis, not using the wings. But, because she believes that her wings are the reason she can fly, if they are pinned or tied off or prevented from being used in some way, then she can't actually fly.
Another example would be the Turtle. He has amazingly powerful telekinesis, but that power does not work as powerfully (or at all) when he outside his metallic shell. Another would be Popinjay. He has the power to teleport anyone, anywhere as long as he can mentally visualise it. His "crutch" is that he must be able to point his index fingers at the target, similar to a pistol. If his fingers are bound (or in once case, removed) then he cannot use his power at all. I believe there is another Ace whose (name escapes me) "crutch" is that in order to summon a giant flaming sword, she must say a specific prayer aloud. Now I'm sure if she concentrated, she could in theory, summon it without the prayer. But because she believes that's how it is called to her, then without it, she believes the power is useless, so therefore it is.

In essence, consider the philosophical saying "I think, therefore I am". That applies to anyone with a power. If they think this is how their power works, then that is how it works. As for what the "crutch" can be, that's up to you. It can be something mental or physical. Might I suggest maybe a Zippo lighter or something akin to that? That he must have a certain talisman in order to activate it? And yes, I would consider it appropriate that if you create an exceptionally powerful character, that you would have either a debilitating drawback or they have a power crippling "crutch".

@UrbanEvolution I understand, you don't wanna wade in until you know how deep it is.

At the minute, I'm carefully reviewing each suggestion that everyone has brought to me so far and weighing up what weaknesses or limits to try and get people to impose on each. So far, everyone seems to be following common sense and creating fairly baseline characters that have some wild card affliction that doesn't turn them into Galactus. What I will say it that I won't be accepting any exceptionally strong/powerful characters (i.e. Superman) without 1) a very exploitable weakness/limit or 2) a debilitating "crutch" as explained above.

One of the players from another Int Ch thread PMed me a list of powers they'd like and one really caught my eye. They'd created a character that could heal any affliction, wound or sickness, Wild Card-based or not. Pretty powerful, right? The weakness, and this is what caught me, that the character would then suffer from that injury. So if they fixed a broken arm, their arm would break in place of it. How interesting a story is that?! Imagine having the power to cure anything but knowing that it would afflict you? So terminal diseases and fatal wounds? A big no-no. Imagine the torture that character would go through, watching all the people suffering and dying, having the power to save them and not being able to actually help?

That's what I'm looking for from the powers, not just "how powerful are they?" but "does this power, with this character, make for an interesting story?" Also, as a kind-of aside, I'm using the "Mutants and Masterminds" Core Rulebook to look up powers similar to all these and see if there are any suggestions or tips I can gleam.

TL;DR : Powers are limited to one major change to a character, nothing insanely powerful, anything approaching that kind of ideal will either be rejected outright or heavily modified to incorporate weaknesses, if an agreement can be reached. Mostly, are they an interesting character that fits the world's theme?

Ace High Straight (A Wild Cards (realistic, world driven superpowered) Casual/Adv. RPG)

@UrbanEvolution Nice to have you lurking. I do enjoy a good lurker.

@Oak7ree that looks a little better. Try flesh it out a bit, think over what makes him tick, what are his goals, his end game.

Interesting turn out so far, we've a gay and "trans" character. Just remember guys, this is the 1980s so you'll have to play to that time period @The Mad Hatter perhaps you could draw on further parallels with the 80s AIDS Scares that the books alluded to around this time? Or is that your intended goal anyway?

Ace High Straight (A Wild Cards (realistic, world driven superpowered) Casual/Adv. RPG)

Added some new sections titled "The Meta Science" and the "Power Crutches" if they are of any help to anyone struggling to write or are still fiddling with their CS. Also if anyone is interested in the lore of the world, give it a glance. I know there's a lot of reading in there but...well there's a reason this is in Advanced.

Ace High Straight (A Wild Cards (realistic, world driven superpowered) Casual/Adv. RPG)

In 1946 an alien virus that rewrites human DNA was accidentally unleashed in the skies over New York City. It killed 90% of those who came into contact with it ('drawing the Black Queen'). However, 9% mutated into deformed creatures (known as 'Jokers') and the remaining 1% gained superpowers (known as 'Aces'). A percentage of the Aces were referred to as 'Deuces', having acquired useless or ridiculous powers, such as the ability to levitate up to two feet, or to grow body hair at will. The airborne virus eventually spread all over the world, infecting tens of thousands.
This is the world you inhabit. This is the world of the Wild Cards.

On Manhattan Island, in the section of the city known as the Bowery, on South Street, overlooking the East River stood the Blythe van Renssaeler Memorial Clinic. More commonly known as the “Jokertown Clinic”, at this time of night the building stood as a slab of black marble, aside from a single lit room on the 2nd floor. This was the office of Dr. Tachyon. For the last few days, this had also become his temporary home. The couch in his office had a smattering of pillows and blankets. His extravagantly coloured clothes littered the floor near the hat rack where his feather adorned archer’s cap sat proudly and at least half a dozen empty paper cups were scattered across his desk, dregs of what could be described of as “coffee” by some settled at the bottom of some.
Dr. Tachyon sat at said desk, his eyes red and drooping, his posture ragged and his movements slow. He thumbed through the patient files spread in front of him, not taking in any of the words scrawled across the page, the sound of the papers scratching against each other merely serving as a distraction for him.
The last few days had been hell, for Tachyon. Between the Croyd Crenson incident, the recently lifted quarantine, the new in-flux of Jokers & Aces and now this happening, Tachyon could barely take the mental strain, even with his mental defences. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, he sighed softly and leaned back in the large, leather bound chair, somehow hoping it would swallow him whole.
5 Jokers and 2 Jokers with Ace-like powers had seemingly disappeared from the Clinic, or at the very least, from Jokertown. Five had checked themselves out with supervision from a “family member”. It was only when the families came during the normal operating visiting hours over the next few days did the staff realise that something had gone.
This and the Croyd incident had caused Tachyon a shitstorm and people affected by the Wild Card were now pulling out of the Clinic, stirred on by the morning tabloids spouting that the “Jokertown Clinic was no longer a safe haven for Jokers or anybody”. One such headline poked out from under the files and Tachyon flung the entire pile to the floor in utter frustration.

“Damn that Digger Downs. Damn those papers. Damn them all!”

Tachyon shouted in frustration at no one in particular, smacking his hands against the desk in exhausted anger. A search by Tachyon himself of Jokertown revealed the Jokers had not returned and he couldn’t have imagined where they might have gone. Jokertown, while a squalid tourist trap slumtown, was still the safest place in the US for Jokers. He just couldn’t imagine where they’d gone or why.
He sat up, leaned forward and gingerly picked up the phone. Tachyon needed to call in a professional.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael Benifield stood in his main office, the glossy sheen of the metallic finish on most of the interior glowing orange with the setting sun. The office’s triple glazed windows gave Benfield a clear view of the upper island, with a view of the Hudson and the East River on either side. He always enjoyed taking in the view with a Scotch at the end of the day. The 67th floor of the tower housed the headquarters of Field Enterprises. The Tower was owned by Benifield too, as he’d funded the construction and development. Some of the other floors hosted many different tenants. Some fancy, over-priced clothing stores occupied the ground floor. A couple of movie stars lived in a few. One of the apartments on the 49th floor were home to 2 cats, with the owner occupying the other, and if he remembered correctly, one of the apartments 9 floors down was home to some Haitian dictator or something. That made him chuckle.
He was snapped out of his amusing thoughts at a buzzing on his desk. He stepped over to the desk, sitting softly on the edge as he clicked the nearby phone.

“Yes, Martha?”

“Mr Benifield, sorry to disturb you but she’s here to see you.”

From the inflection for Martha’s tone, Michael knew exactly who she was.

“Thank you. Send her in.”

He clicked the phone again, the ice in his glass clinking as he shifted off the desk and to the seat behind it, raising it to sip the remaining liquid down, sighing at the lingering burning along his throat as the double doors at the other end of the office swung open and she stepped in.
She was a tall, beautiful woman, buxom and broad-shouldered, with soft, brown hair and icy blue eyes. She strode into the office with an air of confidence and seduction. Upon her back was a pair of beautifully feathered brown and white wings.

“I see you decided to accept my offer in person Peregrine.”

Amare Sweet strode over towards the desk, a tight yet business style dress hugging her figure. Her angelic wings dipped and swayed with each step. She grasped the seat across from Michael with one hand, the pale, white skin reddening as she grasped it and settled onto it. She perched precariously on the edge of the seat. Her wings were awkward at times but nothing compared to other joker afflictions she had heard about or seen. Peregrine smiled politely.

“Actually, Mr Benifield, I’ve come to decline your offer. I thought it best to do it in person.”

Michael’s smile faltered slightly before returning. He was not used to not getting what he desired and he certainly desired Peregrine. In more ways than what he offered her.

“And why is that, prey tell? It was a generous offer, was it not? And please, call me Michael.”

Again, Peregrine smiled politely, “More than generous Mr. Be…Michael. But, I’ve got a contract with my network for “Peregrine’s Perch”. It’s a five year deal and I love the show. Between them, managing the clothing & cosmetic lines and the new baby…”

Michael raised a hand, not in a rude way but more of a calming, surrendering gesture, “Say no more. I understand you have other commitments and responsibilities, especially with the new baby. John, I believe?” He smiled gently as Peregrine nodded, flashing his pearly whites like a tiger before continuing, “I guess I’m just disappointed I couldn’t get one of the most prolific Aces to join me in my new venture.”

Peregrine leaned forward, flashing her perfect teeth right back, along with a bit of cleavage, “Well, I’m here with a counter-offer, directly from my network.” Benifield’s eyebrows raised as she leaned back, almost drawing him in from across the desk, “While I can’t join this “venture” as you’ve put it, I could bring you onto the show this Saturday night to unveil your big new investment.”

Michael leaned forward, perching his elbows onto the deep brow mahogany table, eyes locked on the icy blues of the angel temptress across from him, his head swimming distractedly in fantasies of him and Peregrine, perched atop this very table. He smiled as he murmured, ”What would be in it for me?”

“Well, we are the No. 1 watched show by Nats, Aces and Jokers alike. You get a prime time slot, Saturday night, and you get me…” She flickered her long, luscious lashes flirtingly, making Michael’s core stir, “…well, my backing at least. My word has a lot of sway in the Ace & Joker community and if I think it’s good enough to have on the Prime Time segment…” She spread her arms, leaving the very obvious implications bare for Benifield to grasp at.
He lay back in his chair, the cogs obviously whirring in his brain. He reached down; pulled out the bottle of $200 Scotch he had been enjoying and poured himself a 2nd glass. He raised the glass slowly to his lips, pausing to look at the Guardian Angel that had been sent to him.
“Fools rush in, where Angels fear to tread.”