Avatar of webboysurf

Status

Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Some of y'all are either too old to act the way you act, or too young to be taken seriously. Hard to tell some days.
5 likes

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

<Snipped quote by Master Bruce>

Well guess I gotta delete this Spider-Hulk sheet now


Damn, I was rooting for that one. If we can have Venom Punisher, certainly we can have Spider-Hulk.

"You know, we're kind of like Clint Eastwood in those Westerns you love, Bucky."

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅
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 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
_________________________________________________________
"Hollow" | 15 | Teenager | Markovian
_________________________________________________________
James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes | 100 | Single | American
_________________________________________________________
Roy Harper | 29 | Separated | American
_________________________________________________________
Artemis Grace | 45 | Single | Bana-Mighdallian
_________________________________________________________
Alone | Formerly Red Room / CIA | Former USASF / Mercenary | Shim'Tar of Bana-Mighdall

N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S
N O T A B L E A B I L I T I E S & T O O L S
_________________________________________________________
N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S
N O T A B L E S K I L L S & T A L E N T S
_________________________________________________________
T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...
T H E S T O R Y S O F A R...
________________________________________________________________________________________
There is a girl, trapped in a tube. She does not know who she is, what she is, or why she is. She does not recognize her body, nor why it does not feel like hers. The people in white coats refer to her with harsh words. They keep trying to hurt her, but they haven't found a way yet. She is impenetrable, but she fears if they did crack her shell... they would find nothing. For she feels HOLLOW.

There once was a man in a tube, when the world was a button press away from annihilation. But that was years ago. He was a patriot, then an enemy, and then a ghost. He became a specter of the age of information, when wars were fought in palaces and skyscrapers. But he knew this would never last. Against his will, he was made into something more than just a man. His nerves were split and sewn and soldered to replace a part of himself he sacrificed. His country feared what he could be, should his old programming resurface. Once the Reach was driven off, he knew his time was over. He knew what was coming, and knew where to start looking for help. He needed soldiers if he was going to start a REVOLUTION.

A mercenary wipes warm blood from his face, a deluge of pain and resolve washing his soul. He beckons for the civilians to run, even though they sport scales and unusual appendages. They're not quite human, but a kid is still a kid. The money wasn't worth losing his humanity. He strips his comrades of their gear, and loads it all into the last working truck. He hoped the others could see reason over their greed. If they couldn't, he was glad he still had his ARSENAL.

It is rumored the ashes of Bana-Mighdall are still warm. The peaceful nation nestled in the southern reaches of Egypt, untouched by the modern world, was one of the first targets after the meta-bomb went off. The Amazons had never yet known a reason to fear the weapons of men. Their ignorance saw them slaughtered, and their relics ripped from their corpses. A wounded Amazon begged and pleaded with her gods for safety. They answered only the plea of the Shim'Tar. She awoke with her weapons in an unknown desert, lost and alone. She was easy pickings for the mercenaries, and a potential lead on how to locate any remaining Amazons. For she was the last Amazon of Bana-Mighdall, ARTEMIS.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
________________________________________________________________________________________
If there has ever been a version of these RPs where a team called the Outlaws is more appropriate, I haven't seen it. These characters are proper nomadic vigilantes trying to do what they can to keep people safe and fight back against an oppressive regime, with hints of found family tied in. For Roy and Artemis, I am leaning a lot into their appearance in the New 52 while updating for the setting (while also removing direct connection/association with other potential heroes that might get picked). Hollow is an obscure pull with complicated lore that acts a bit as a stand-in for the types of victims of Reach experimentation, while Bucky serves as a somewhat jaded and timeless soldier trying desperately to fight a losing war. Of course, Bucky is also the only reason this team of rejects can be held together long enough to potentially make a difference in the world. He is a planner by profession, and acts as the team's de-facto leader.

As for plot and goals, I have an opening "coming together" arc in the works that will bring them up to speed, revolving around the destruction of Bana-Mighdall and the accidental liberation of Hollow. In general, I have some minor plot threads I would like to dive into with this group, but they are nomadic and available for crossovers (or to complicate other heroes’ lives). The only major plot thread hanging over the Outlaws constantly is their soured relationship with the S.O.V. (Soldiers of Victory), a former mercenary group with direct ties to the Agency. They will be constantly on the run from former friends and allies.

After all, they're all OUTLAWS now.

Or you can apply as a team of sidekicks of A-listers to avoid competition while still getting the same power sets and desired personalities.


And now, I rest.
Alright, fine, I'll dust something off the shelf.


K A Z R A N
K A Z R A N



"I believe we're alike. Two peas in a pod, as old Dorcas used to say. Two strangers, both adventuring in the unknown."

Alike?

Kaz looked down at the gleaming armor wrapped around his chest and suddenly felt its weight. He knew the instrument Annifer bore well. Part of him wished to reach for it, yearning for salt and citrus to soak the tines. He had made a few pitchforks early on as an apprentice, and had used one well before then when working in stables for scraps. It had been years since he struggled as he did then. And it felt clear, then, as Kaz's eyes drifted up to the wild displays in front of him, just how alike they were in all but one way.

She was stronger than he was.

“Are we over our heads? Maybe, but perhaps that is what makes this all worth it."

He knew, for certain, that this struggle had be worth it. His cause was noble and pure, at least that is what he told himself. His love’s locket felt warm pressed against his breast. This Annifer seemed impressed by his display, and the looks from others around certainly meant that he was noticed if not seen. That attention was fickle and fleeting.

Kazran was distracted from Annifer’s request for a name by a torrent of red hair and sharp steel that cut into one of the practice dummies. A remarkably toned archer loosed a bolt of lightning from their bow. He even caught the briefest glimpse of another flash of electricity from someone he barely caught a glimpse of. Of course, this all paled in comparison to the display from a particularly sharp-eared individual. While others had displayed an affinity and control over magic that Kazran could not yet visualize for himself, this elven stranger was an entirely different beast altogether. Her sword seemed to blaze with an entire world foreign to the blacksmith’s apprentice. His mind raced with questions about the nature of the weapon, before a creeping despair grasped his throat.

He did not belong here, and he was a fool to dream of standing alongside folks like these. Annifer was right, for he was truly braving the unknown. Kazran turned his gaze to the stranger. Her calm demeanor was less a comfort, and more a challenge to his own composure. He could not fathom her nonchalance, as his own gaping jaw attested. This hospitable stranger seemed to regard it all with some level of normalcy, for a moment at least. And then came the urgency.

"I have some matters to attend to, but I look forward to meeting you again. Perhaps later you could teach me that move from before. What say you?"

"I pray to see you on the morrow, as contenders. I fear my move may be incompatible with a fork… but I would be happy to clean off the rust!”

His words rang with a strange bravado that betrayed his own anxieties, or perhaps were instead just a reflection of her well-wishes. His final offer was met with a few strange looks from passers-by. As Kazran stood alone once again, he felt his heart race in his chest. He had to prove he belonged here, through whatever means necessary. He prayed the Wardens had need of a resident Blacksmith, if nothing else. His thoughts thrummed at the same speed as the beating in his breast. He replayed his display and the conversation, before a dawning horror left him frustrated.

"Fut, Kazran, you never shared your name.”
K A Z R A N
K A Z R A N



"Smashing, might I say."

The teenager turned his face away from the source of the words, his ears burning with embarassment. All this effort and time only to be laughed at and mocked. If he had wanted more of that, he could have stayed home.

"You must've been practicing for some time."

Kazran stopped his brisk retreat as his brain processed the stranger's tone. His brow knitted together in confusion. If it was sarcastic, he couldn't pick up on it. "Oh, uhhh... not really, no."

He took a moment to look back at his work, a knot forming in his stomach as he saw other aspirants shifting away from the scene. "Sorry if you were waiting for that one. I got a little carried away." He readjusted the hammer on his shoulder, which in turn created a small tinkling sound from loosely fastened buckles brushing against hardened steel.

Kaz finally turned, facing the young woman. His eyes drifted towards the pitchfork in her hands, eliciting a single raised eyebrow for a second. If he had a question about it, he wasn't voicing it quite yet. He locked eyes with Annifer, letting his shoulders relax a little. This release of tension let loose a torrent of nervous clarifications. "I mean, I have been training... but not in a formal way. I never got the chance to train proper. I was an apprentice blacksmith back home. This is all... new." His last words were puncutated as he gestured his shield vaguely in the direction of the rest of the aspirants.

The small pause in his speech let Kazran refocus, and his eyes once again settled on the pitchfork. His curiosity had gotten the better of him.

After all, Isabella had told him it was polite to ask about others.

"Are you practiced with that?"
K A Z R A N
K A Z R A N


Clumps of dried hay crunched underneath weighted steps. Kaz's pace was slow as he approached the target dummies, stepping in just as a teenager with soft hands finished a small, orchestrated technique. It did little against the makeshift practice dummy, but seemed enough to attract a small polite set of claps from other distinguished applicants nearby. Kaz's stomach turned in knots as he saddled his way up towards the free dummy, his knuckles white on the hilt of his weapon. His other hand held the shield awkwardly, metal clanking against metal at it jostled against the side of the breastplate.

He had learned the absolute basics already, though it was less about form and more about practicality. Don't get stabbed. Keep your shield up. Don't overextend. Let gravity do some of the work. Follow the hammer once it gets going. Keep pressing. Of course, at the given moment, it was all a muddled broth of words simmering in Kaz's head as he felt a few errant stares. If one didn't know any better, Kaz looked almost the part of a potential Warden. Almost.

Kaz settled himself a couple paces away from the target, his right shoulder facing it directly. His body faced perpendicular, and his eyes met those of the aspirant who went before him. The teenager's eyes didn't seem to burn with jealousy or rivalry as they met Kaz's... but instead seemed to be pittying. Kaz averted his gaze, turning to view the target. He looked past, seeing one of the instructors moving his direction, eyeing the new recruits.

This was it.

With his feet firmly planted, Kaz let the hammer slide off his shoulder. His arm twisted slightly, as his feet began to move. His left foot fell back, and his body turned with the momentum of the warhammer's falling arc. It wasn't as quick as some of the other maneuvers, but the sheer momentum helped carry his body in the follow-through. His right foot followed his left, his body turning around until he was partially facing the target. His arm strained slightly from the momentum of the hammer's upward swing, and Kazran's weight is the only thing that kept him from being lifted up off the ground.

A loud, sharp crack echoed through the air as the hammer swung just an inch too far. The edge of the hammer must have torn through the cloth, or perhaps the sudden impact strained the sewn fabric of the dummy. A cloud of hay suddenly engulfed the area in which Kazran had been, leaving the teen obscured and sputtering. The wooden pole the dummy had been attached to had splintered, with shards of wood joining the debris. Kaz, in his disorientation, felt the muscles in his shoulder strain to keep a grip on the hammer. While it did not fly from his hands, he was powerless to stop it from falling with a crash into the ground. Once again, a small but noticeable crater formed underneath the warhammer's head.

As Kaz regained his senses, the silence from nearby observers became deafening. The applicant before him and his entourage watched on with a mixture of disgust and fear. Kaz hoisted the hammer onto his shoulder again, feeling a lump form in his throat. He mouthed wordless apologies to those who had been waiting dutifully behind him, moving to the fringe of the training area to watch on from a bit of a distance.

He had his chance, and it went up in a cloud of straw and splinters.
Character Creation



The steps below used to build your Slayers are meant to provide guidance and prompts for how your specific character fights monsters and deals with hostile encounters. Each choice when picking your class, lineage, and gimmick are meant to drive how your character solves problems. Your class determines where you draw your strength: from your skill with weapons, your skill with magic, or from a combination of the two. Your lineage determines your species or blood relations, and your gimmick gives characters an extra tool in their kit to deal with monsters.

However, these class features are not all-inclusive of a Slayer’s abilities. There are

Step 1: Pick your Class


Warrior: Magic is unreliable, weapons are consistent. You focus on martial prowess to fight the monsters that make trained knights cower in fear. Warriors are Strong, Swift, and Hearty… or, more accurately, each warrior is two of the three. Their physical build determines what kind of combat styles they are particularly trained in. Some combat styles are only available to a particular build. Other combat styles simply require a build that has Strong, Swift, or Hearty listed as one of its core focuses.



Mage: Magic is hard to come by, but you've mastered it enough to put it to a good cause. While hedge mages or court wizards might be able to liven up a party with tricks and glamours, you have honed your skills for the most noble cause: fighting back the darkness. Mages have a Magical Tradition that they draw their magic from, which Manifest in particular ways unique to their Tradition. Mages also have specific Spellcasting Styles that are Tradition/Manifestation agnostic: the only limit to how these spells work in a given style is your imagination as a writer.



Spellblade: A Jack of All Trades is a master of none, but better than being a master of one. A Spellblade's limited mastery of both magic and martial combat is made up for by their sheer versatility.





© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet