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Glad I've got a week to refine this.

I'll let you know when it's ready for review.

You had me at Upwards.
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
S P I D E R - M A N


P E T E R P A R K E R F R E E L A N C E R N E W Y O R K C I T Y
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


"I'm beginning to think you need to take a vacation, Doc. I can save you a spot on a nice Raft in the bay."

There have been a lot of great incarnations of Peter Parker over the years, and I think the version that works best is when he's an young adult and can't quite catch a break. Enough origin stories or young versions of Peter Parker have been immortalized, so I think having a more experienced Spider-Man makes more sense. He's put away many in his Rogues gallery a few times, but they always manage to escape and become repeat offenders. He would be a longer-standing member of the Avengers, believing in heroes having accountability for their actions... and so he can get a constant supply of necessary tech to accomplish what he needs to. Peter isn't able to hold down a steady job, and instead has to rely on freelance work as a photographer for the Bugle, and occasionally doing some technical consulting to convince himself he didn't waste five years getting a degree in mechanical engineering.

This version of Peter doesn't differ much from what you would expect. He tries to maintain his only healthy friendship with Mayoral candidate Harry Osborn and tries to keep tabs on his Aunt May, but there are hardly enough hours in the day. Peter has suffered the heartbreak of losing his first love in a battle with the Green Goblin, and indulging in true vengeance only once in refusing to save Norman Osborn shortly thereafter. He's been around the world and perhaps even been in space once or twice. But he's also getting into his thirties with no stable income and living in a cramped studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen. Most of the people Peter talks to are either fighting alongside him or trying to kill him. It's unhealthy, to say the least. But Peter never gives up and always keeps trying to do the right thing. After all... with great power...

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ):

You know, Spider-Man is perhaps the first super hero I ever had interest in as a kid. The newspaper we got every Sunday when I was young printed cheap new copies of the original Spider-Man run and they were the first comics I read as a kid. I think it's about time I took a shot at writing the character and trying to tell a compelling Spider-Man story.

The general outline for what I am intending in a first arc playing Spider-Man is placing emphasis on a Peter Parker who is overwhelmed, and is going to have to rely on allies significantly for the first time in order to keep New York from falling into chaos. Gang Warfare is erupting in the streets as six of Spider-Man's most sinister adversaries are plotting to destroy the webslinger once and for all. Spider-Man has just begun training a young Miles Morales (or mentoring/fostering a friendship with another newer hero or ally) as he finds himself being called in to assist with the Avengers and other heroes more and more, and is ultimately going to have to unravel the mystery of who is trying to kill the amazing Spider-Man. I have listed in the notes section just a few ideas for potential supporting characters that would mesh well with this story.

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






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.
You know, I absolutely felt like an OU would be out about now to scratch my itch. Guess I'm just gonna have to dip back into my catalogue and pick up a story I left off...



Tags: @Feyblue



Kenichi understood that the sensation he felt was not strictly an authentic representation of what was happening. While not a surgeon by any means, the doctor's apprentice knew the rough anatomy of where the different internal organs were and what was necessary to treat issues revolving around different parts of the body. He had read much in his youth, and heard the various symptoms from the various patients in the village. But in that awkward moment of fumbling words and awkward placating between the two youths, Kenichi could have sworn he felt his heart drop down into his stomach. He did his best to hide his feelings, leaning on his crutch a bit more as his legs felt the strain from the sensation rock him to his core. He kept his awkward smile plastered on his face, jumping in and interrupting her the moment he had some room in to respond.

"No, no... I understand. I should have scheduled... er, no, no, I just meant to deliver the medicine. I will not keep you."

Kenichi turned his body away from Oyuki, his gaze falling back down the stairs as his cheeks grew hotter and redder by the moment. He couldn't quite place the feelings churning in his abdomen, but he could tell they were unpleasant regardless. The only clear thought running through his mind is he needed to be away. For the briefest of moments, tucking up into a ball and just rolling down the hillside seemed like a reasonable option. Of course, the analytical and reasonable side won out as the doctor's apprentice gave a slight bow facing away from Lady Oyuki. "I wish you well, Lady Oyuki. I will be off."

With such a simple goodbye, Kenichi took a deep breath and began moving down the stairs as quick as his legs would allow, internalizing his grunts and frustrations as he descended from the shrine and towards the village below.
We're lucky I can't like my own posts.


The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the Junker Fleet. As soon as its transponder pinged, it wasn’t questioned. It wasn’t challenged. The Junker Fleet knew whose space they were inhabiting. Transmitting clearance, and a docking request. The shuttle glided into the hangar of the Venator, wings folding up over its head. Touching down on repulsors, the hatch at the front opening and hissing even before the hangar door had closed. Two armoured individuals descended from the ramp. The first, Captain Phasma. One of the elite soldiers within the First Order, right hand woman to General Hux with her own special training program within the First Order.

The second figure was clearly a Mandalorian, though his armour markings were irregular. It wasn’t visible, due to their helmets though Phasma wasn’t comfortable with him, and he wasn’t comfortable with her.

They were unknown quantities.

Phasma didn’t like things being unknown. She drilled her people to be loyal through and through, they were conditioned to respond to events accordingly. Now due to some orders coming from on high she was just expected to trust this Mandalorian. It was absurd.

The two of them walked out from beneath the shuttle.She stood waiting at the base of the ramp, the mandalorian by her side waiting. She never approached first, no. They had to come to her.

The Mandalorian didn’t feel like playing such games. Instead he walked up to the closest deckhand, clasping his shoulder to turn him around. “We need whoever's in charge.”



“Ma’am… the First Order is here. They are requesting the usual landing permissions.”

Tamara Hycin was standing in front of the viewport of The Salvager’s bridge, her hands clasped behind her back. She wore the outfit she always wore when among the Junkers Union: a tight brown jumpsuit with a red vest, and a heavy blaster pistol strapped with a utility belt to her hip. Her clothes didn’t bear a single stain, but none of the workers or scrappers here would dare to bring it up. It was a show of solidarity that all on board understood, and putting it to words would draw unwanted attention from the cutthroat privateer. Her eyes were trained on the new speck that she had clocked from her position moving closer. Before her subordinate had even spoke, she could recognize that shuttle anywhere. Tamara gave a nod, and turned her gaze to her left where a man dressed in a run-down Rebel Alliance naval uniform was looking to her expectantly. ”They are authorized for the portside docking bay. Make an announcement for Captains Andarin and Rinslan to report there as well.” With a nod of acknowledgement from the officer, Tamara turned on her heels and walked briskly towards the elevator shaft to meet with the First Order. She knew they did not appreciate tardiness.

Within a few moments, her brisk footsteps were matched by those of Captain Winrell Rinslan. His familiar steps echoed in the empty halls in this portion of the ship, the sound of the leather imperial boots a nostalgic sound to the former Imperial officer. Rinslan was a tall, lithe man who never quite filled out his old naval uniform quite right, resulting in him having to use careful tucking and some pins to try and get it to conform around his body. That being said, his alterations were calculated and in compliance with the harsh dress code of his naval upbringing. His steps were uniform and practically a clicking march in lockstep with his commanding officer. This was interrupted by the thudding footfalls of Captain Jax Andarin, whose face and hair were still marked with grease stains. He jogged up towards the former Imperials, readjusting his coat as he fell nearly in step alongside Captain Rinslan in following Chief Hycin. Tamara turned her gaze towards Jax as he fell in line, her sweet tones undercut with a threatening confidence. ”They are earlier than usual. Don’t speak unless I give the signal.” Jax gave a confused glance to Winrell, who simply flashed a condescending smirk to his fellow Captain. Jax clenched his jaw as he turned his gaze ahead to follow the others into the docking bay.

The doors slid open, and Chief Hycin took a step forward confidently. Her eyes glanced over the familiar shuttle, before passing over two figures. She slowed her next step for a moment, just long enough for Jax to fall out of step and nearly run into his CO. Hycin’s heart missed a beat as recognition passed over her face for a second. Reputation was a powerful tool, and one the Junkers Union brandished to keep fear in the heart of its enemies. But a reputation powerful enough to make Tamara Hycin nearly stop dead in her tracks was rare. Tamara took a deep breath as she continued her pace once again. This was unexpected, and unexpected was not something Tamara Hycin was fond of. The lone deckhand turned his gaze towards the open blast doors and the three figures approaching, and shakily pointed a finger in their direction. “Y-You’ll want to speak with Chief Hycin, s-sir.” The second he got the chance, the dockhand slipped from the Mandalorian’s grip and made his way towards a couple other dockhands standing alert near a set of ammunition crates, doing his best to fade into the background.

Tamara Hycin and company marched within a few meters of the two visitors, and she fell into an immediate salute along with Winrell. Jax stood at his full height and kept his hands resting on his utility belt, far and enough away from the CA-87 resting in a holster on his right thigh. Tamara’s voice went rigid and formal, her naval discipline kicking in. ”It is an honor to have you on board, Captain Phasma.”

The Mandalorian stepped back in line behind Phasma. Letting go off the deckhand as the three officers approached. Phasma instantly clocked two of them for Imperials. The third. She’d assume he had no formal military background, no that wasn’t right. Rebel maybe. When she finally spoke her voice was metallic and neutral, her helmet filtering her voice to betray no emotion. Instead everything sounded like mild disdain.

“It’s good to see that my reputation precedes me. This is my associate, he goes by the title Crusader. He needs your ship and its crew for an important mission. I need you to be ready to leave within five hours if you are to make your timeframe.”

Tamara kept her gaze straight, lowering her attentive stance as Winrell followed. She bared a slightly warm smile,raising her eyebrows in some acknowledgement of surprise at the sudden request. She knew better than to play any part other than the accommodating servant. ”The Junkers Union would be happy to serve the First Order. Are you requesting The Salvager or the whole fleet?”

“The Salvager will suffice. We have some specialist vessels that will meet with you at the target destination to assist as necessary.” Phasma turned and gestured to Crusader “I remind you that in my absence you will be in the employ of Crusader-” She had to stop herself from scoffing at his ridiculous name. “-and his orders should be taken as our own. I assume I don’t need to remind you that my presence here indicates you have gained yourself some prestige? My superiors sent me here directly.”

Tamara nodded towards Captain Rinslan, who nodded in return and sharply turned on his heels to begin preparations for departure. She turned her gaze back towards Phasma, same warm smile plastered on her lips. ”We are happy for the recognition and opportunity to perform such a vital mission for the First Order.” Her gaze turned finally in acknowledgement of the Mandalorian. ”We will be happy to escort you to the bridge for a briefing on what you need from us when you are ready, Crusader. With a simple turn of head once again, Tamara’s eyes locked back onto Phasma. ”Do you have any further specifications or accommodation requests, Captain?”

Crusader merely nodded, before pulling some form of needle from a pouch on his hip, stabbing in between two joints of his armour.

Phasma meanwhile signalled back to the shuttle as a group of eleven troopers, and a twelfth with an officers pauldron, descended from the shuttle. “This squad of troopers will remain behind to assist Crusader with his duties aboard this ship. All other details, Crusader will fill you in on.” Without another word she turned around and back up towards the shuttle. The troopers stood waiting in the middle of the hangar as the ramp to the shuttle was once more raised. As soon as the doors were open it raised off its legs and left the hangar.

Crusader spoke again, his voice oddly hollow and gravely. “Take me to the bridge, and have someone show the Troopers to some quarters.”

Tamara watched the shuttle begin to take off from the hangar, and turned to match Jax’s gaze. Her warm smile gave way to a simmering rage, which Jax met with a slight nod. She turned her gaze back towards Crusader. ”I’ll have an officer escort them momentarily. For now, we will lead you to the bridge.” Chief Hycin turned on her heels and began making her way out of the hangar bay and towards the turbolift to the bridge, fetching a small datapad from her vest pocket and typing up a quick message to prepare one of the barrack spaces for the troopers. Of course, it meant having to quickly evict salvagers back to The Dauntless, but it was an acceptable tradeoff. They would be liabilities in the coming mission regardless. Jax followed Tamara closely, keeping an eye on Crusader with clear suspicion. Something about this whole situation didn’t sit right with the pilot. And he knew damn well at this point to trust in his gut.
Onboard The Salvager // First Order Space


The main hangar bay was, as always, a cacophony of sounds that drove most in the galaxy crazy. Metal plating scratched against metal plating, and the stinging sound of welding echoed through the large open chambers. Foremen barked orders to mechanics and scrappers alike, as the starfighter wrecks haphazardly dumped into the various working bays were being torn apart and reassembled into something functional. Standing among the wreckage, over a salvaged and flickering holotable to be precise, was a man with pepper hair slicked back with grease. A set of goggles was pushed up on his forehead as he was readjusting the sleeves on his shirt to keep them rolled up, staring at the blue image of a heavily damaged Z-95 Headhunter. Jax Andarin turned his gaze towards the Sullustan who was scratching his own shoulder next to him. "They want to be able to carry a bounty in this..."

"<Yup.>"

"Safety isn't a concern..."

"<Correct.>"

"The Hutts want it in 3 cycles..."

"<Yeah.>"

"And they don't care about safety measures?" The Sullustan answered the question with a nod to indicate a positive response, and Jax shrugged his shoulders, moving his hands up to interact with the hologram. He lifted his left hand and motioned towards the dented nose of the starfighter, and threw it off screen haphazardly. Jax's right hand tapped on the control panel for a moment, and a different nose appeared separate from the Z-95. "Luckily we salvaged a functional front half of a Z-95 when we dealt with Zeffron's gang. There's already retrofitted space for storage in the nose, we'll just have to expand it."

With a few more flicks of his wrists, the nose was zoomed in on the hologram and the various components removed to create a more three dimensional image, and Jax began pointing at the various components within the nose. "They already specified they didn't want the torpedo launchers, which helps save space. We can remove the nose sensors and move them back closer to the engines. We can then rip out the life support from that salvaged X-Wing and store it right up next to the expanded storage bin. The heat from that and the battery will help make sure the bounties don't freeze, but they won't be comfortable. This'll put more strain on the engine than usual, but we can add in additional venting. Besides, this is what the Hutts get for buying cheap. Should fly until the Hunter crosses path with a Ranger." The Sullustan gave a nod, his eyes tracing over the various gestures Jax made. He then turned around, and began barking at the mechanics that had been huddled nearby. Jax took this as his cue to fetch his jacket from where it was resting upon a spare communications relay and walk off deeper into the Venator class Star Destroyer, making his way around the closed off sections that were still under repair.
Conversation is sparse here, would you guys rather have a discord or just keep the OOC chatter to a minimal?


I'm good with either option. Discord might be better for quick questions asking ourselves, and allows easier discussion.



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