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Old 07-16-2007, 08:02 PM   #1
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Default The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One


RPG

In Continuity Game Thread


GAMEMASTERS

GAMEMASTER
Master Bruce

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SENIOR ADVISEMENT
The Question

- - -

ABOUT THE RPG

This game is similar to The "Heroes Vs. Villains" Marvel RPG,

However, this one follows a different, non-established continuity, similar (but not in unison) to Marvel's Ultimate line, where the players can re-invent and re-establish each character at his/her career peak, most characters beginning at the start.

- - -

RULES
  • Players can choose any Marvel Comic character they wish. Since there is no established continuity for this universe, some liberties can be taken. However, We ask that you at least try and stay true to the character's basics. (IE: Captain America's a patriot, Daredevil is blind, The X-Men are mutants, ect.) Don't make him or her completely 100% different from his/her's 616 Marvel counterpart.
  • This is in a new continuity. Meaning, this does not tie into the continuity of Ultimate, 2099, or 616 Marvel Comics. (IE: Galactus hasn't invaded, The Avengers aren't formed yet, ect.) So don't play as if any of that has already happen. This is a NEW universe.
  • No Killing. Unnamed faceless NPC's (*Non Player Characters) are okay, but not comic characters. Someone else may want to take up the character, or they may be imporant to another story.
  • You can go anywhere on earth, or travel off planet, but do so within your character's means.
  • Provided you've proven yourself a capable RPG participant, you will be allowed the option of two characters. Characters can be reserved at any point during the season for a period of two weeks.
  • You are your character, so act like it. Talk like them, use their dialogue. Do not exaggerate their powers or abilities, or pop-up here and there without explaination.
  • Several stories can be going at once, and you have the freedom to interact with other characters.
  • Borrowing elements from other mediums aside from the comic books is to be kept to a minimum. But a direct adaptation is prohibited. This RPG is about creativity... Try to your own ideas above all else. (If you're stuck creatively, ask the gamemasters for advice)
  • If your character is closely related to another player's character (Example: Doctor Octopus and Spider-Man, Kingpin and Daredevil, Doctor Doom and Reed Richards), it is strongly suggested that you PM the other player about your plans, so they can plan accordingly.
  • No Time Travel. (Unless someone is playing a character who needs that.)
  • You must post every two weeks, though it is preferred that you post more. If you go two weeks without a post without prior notice, your character is be up for grabs.
  • All regular Hype rules also apply.
  • Have fun.
- - -


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Old 07-16-2007, 08:02 PM   #2
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

A good man was being buried today.

That's all that had been on Peter Parker's mind for the past twenty four hours. He had missed an important exam that he had prepared months for just to be here, today. But he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. At his side stood his Aunt May Parker, a black vale covering her eyes as she looked down upon the casket infront of her. Both of them held a rose, as they were surrounded by dozens of mourners of close friends and family. A priest stood infront of them, reciting various selected paragraphs from a bible that had come from May's own attic. But even as he ran the words for all to hear... even as the mourner's silently wept, in memorium for their fallen friend or relative... Peter couldn't hear them. He couldn't see them. He couldn't even feel their prescence. It was as if he were there by himself, overlooking the casket as rain poured down upon it.

He wished it was him, in there. Not his beloved Uncle Ben.

A single tear escaped Peter's eyes, as he closed them, and hung his head low. He had promised himself, and Ben, that he wouldn't... but the scene, and the thoughts that came with it, were too overpowering for Peter to handle. Until finally, it was time for him and the mourners to say their final goodbyes to the man that had loved them, and had vice versedly earned their love himself. Placing a rose on the casket that now belonged to her husband, May Parker placed a kiss upon it, managing to control her emotions long enough to grant her final moments with Ben to be peaceful, before finally walking away from the burial grounds, going back to the car to weep in isolation. Peter looked on, as she did, noting just how much stronger she had been during all of this than he had. But then again, she didn't carry the tremendous weight of guilt that clouded over Peter's shoulders. And that weight seemed to feel stronger than ever, as Peter slowly rested his own rose atop the casket, placing a lone hand on it. The emotions of dread seemed to stop, in that moment, as Peter warmly smiled at the thought of Ben's face as they played a game of catch. And it was then that Peter finally managed to say a goodbye worthy of his true feelings, despite the circumstances of Ben's death.

Goodbye, Uncle Ben.

Hesitantly removing his hand from the casket, Peter turned, and walked off into the rain, a look of grieve evident on his face as he silently continued on, recalling fondness in the times he had spent with his uncle. But moreso, he recalled the days leading up to Ben's demise, as they had ultimately sealed both his and Peter's fates. And each time Peter thought back to one, specific moment, he managed to lose just a little more confidence in himself. Because in truth, though he and God were the only ones that knew it... Ben had died because of him. And that was a reality that Peter knew he would never be able to shake.

Hours later, Peter sat on a park bench, soaked in the night's rain, his head still hanging as the memories continued to flood his mind. A car pulled up infront of him, slowly, as he looked up and saw his Aunt May in the driver's seat. Peter noticed that Anna Watson, who had accompanied May and Peter to the funeral, was no longer there. May had probably taken her back home, or more likely, she had managed to get her niece to pick her up. Either way, Peter was grateful... because the only person Peter wanted to see, now, was his Aunt. Getting up from the park bench, Peter opened the door, and got into the car, as his Aunt threw a reassuring smile at him. Her eyes were red with tears... but they had been long since dried, as May drove on, letting Peter continue his silence throughout the entire ride.

Finally, upon reaching their home in Queens, after an hour long drive, Peter spoke his first and only words of the entire day, and entire night. But they rang truer than any that had been said, in his mind.

"It was my fault."

Hours turned into days, as Peter barely ate and rarely spoke. He had decided, after the funeral, that he needed to begin getting out of the house as soon as possible. So over the next few days, when Peter wasn't sitting in his bed in silence, thinking of Ben, or trying his absolute best not to break down at the thought of his own shame, He was packing his belongings, knowing that he wouldn't be able to take living in the Parker houseold anymore. There were just too many memories, and too much of a prescence that still remained within the home. It was a prescence Peter felt as if he didn't deserve to be in, as he boxed up everything from old clothes, to comic books, sci-fi novels, telescopes, workbooks, all the way down to the family photos that May had said he could take with him. Finally, days later, Peter looked upon an empty room, as he closed it's door for the last time and walked downstairs.

Hopefully, with this move would come a new chapter in his life. Because unbeknownst to anyone, there was more in store for his future than anyone realised. Only Peter knew of the task that lied ahead. The journey his life would take, upon sealing a harsh life lesson into a life itself. By the time Peter left the Parker houseold, nearly a week after he had said goodbye to the man that made living there worth it, Peter knew that it was time.

It was time for him to take responsibility.

"You're gonna love it, Pete. I'm telling you now."

Peter tried to see past the boxes he was carrying in his arms, as his best, and perhaps only friend, Harry Osborn, led him down the hallways of the male dormrooms to Empire State University. Harry had been excited to finally gain a roomate in Peter who, despite his social status as the official "bookworm" of Midtown High School, would be alot more beneficial to Harry's needs and alterior motive of upping his grade average when the first slew of classes hit, later that week. Peter, on the other hand, had only truly wanted to move away because of his Uncle Ben's death, and the need to leave May so that she could grieve on her own. Because before that, Peter had constantly turned down Harry's offer, hoping to eventually move into his own apartment in the city. But now, the deal was done, and Peter was on his way to a new life, just down the hall from the two. Harry laughed, a little, as Peter obviously struggled with the boxes.

"Don't worry, pal. We're almost there. Just take it slow... nice and easy..."

"Hey! Rich boy!"

Harry turned, as both he and Peter stopped, hearing the voice of the coming Eugene "Flash" Thompson. Harry gave a friendly wave, as Flash approached the two, sporting the same football jersey he had worn to lead the Midtown football team to victory, this past summer.

"Good to see you showed up, Harry-boy. I was beginning to think I'd have all these chicks to myself.", Flash joked. "Not that I would've minded..."

Harry snickered at this, as Peter realised he wasn't maintaining a very good grip on the boxes.

"Yeah, yeah... keep talking, Flash. I'm sure by the end of this semester, you'll still be scaring off Liz."

"HA! You wish. I got a feeling, man... today's gonna be my year."

"Really?", Harry asked, curiously. "Cause the way Mary Jane put it over the phone... Liz already slammed the door on you twice, this week."

"What can I say? She's playing hard to get on the ole Flash-miester.", Flash responded, flashing a grin, before turning to Peter, behind Harry, not recognising who he was because of the boxes. "So, what, is this like your personal bellboy or something?"

"Hardy har har, Flash...", Harry stated. "But no. Nothing like that. I finally got myself a roomie."

At that moment, the boxes in Peter's hands went flying, as he fell back, landing right under the falling clothes and picture frames. Flash looked down, a look of amusement coming on his face that instantly faded, as he realised who Harry's roommate really was.

"...Parker?"

Peter looked up, with an embarassed smile on his face, as he waved.

"Uh... hiya, Flash.", Peter greeted. "What's new?"

Flash simply stared down, his cheerful demeanor now replaced with an annoyed one, as he looked over at Harry.

"Yeah, I'm gonna now. I'll call you later, Harry."

"Uh... yeah. Sure thing, Flash.", Harry uneasily said, as Flash walked off, before turning to Peter as he stood up.

"Sorry about that, Pete.", Harry stated. "Hopefully you won't remember this as your first memory at ESU."

Peter shrugged, looking off as he began to gather his things.

"Don't worry about it, Harry.", Peter responded.

"I guess some things just never change."

Hours later, Peter had set up some of his things in his side of the dormroom. Harry was out partying with some of his friends, a crowd of which Peter never felt he had really belonged to, and vice versa, which left Peter alone to think for the first time, that day. Hunched over on his bed, Peter looked to the side, as the first item Peter had unpacked was staring him right in the face: A photograph of him, his Aunt May, and Uncle Ben, from when he was a boy. Peter grabbed the photograph, looking at it closer, before sighing to himself. How he wished that he could still live in that time.

But... he couldn't. And it was probably best that he didn't. Because today was a new day for Peter, and perhaps the first chapter of the rest of his life. But as Peter placed the photograph back on his sidedesk, and looked out at the relatively still unpacked room, a new priority faced him. A goal of which he had decided on earlier in the week, but had forgotten about until now. Getting up from the bed, and walking over to one of the boxes, Peter looked over, making sure the door was locked, before removing a box that was stacked upon another, unmarked one. Opening the unmarked box, Peter walked over with it in hand, and placed it on his bed.

Digging through it, pulling out various art supplies and other random items, Peter finally rested his fingertips upon the cloth inside. Pulling it out, Peter's eyes rested on a crimson and dark blue bodysuit within, as it stretched out and revealed itself in it's entirety upon Peter's tug. The top half, which was the red half, had a prominent web-like design upon it, with the chest covered by an overlapping, three demensional spider-logo. Peter stared at it, long and hard, before throwing it over his shoulder, along with other pieces of the outfit, before grabbing his coat, hiding it within, and walking out of the room.

Tonight, Peter Parker would leave that dorm room an unresponsible boy, grieving over the loss of a father figure that had been unrightfully taken from this world. But Peter would come back to that dorm a responsible man, finally setting a true purpose in his life in honor of both his uncle, and the heroes that had come before him. Tonight... Peter would take responsibility for his mistakes, and make them into something better. Something purer. Something with a great power. Because with great power, came great responsibility.

"Well... here goes nothing."

Thunder cracked atop the skyline of New York City, as a figure stood amongst the pouring rain, crouched like it were a human sized spider. It stood vigilant, silent... unmoving amongst the harsh weather conditions that threatened it. A flash of lightning revealed it's face, as the determined face of Peter Parker stared out across the Manhattan view, preparing to enter that area in a most unusual manner. Peter looked over, the rain blanketing his hair and nose like the day he had said goodbye to Ben Parker. He stared at his own reflection that was cast into the window of the skyscraper to his right, for a long moment. As if he were saying goodbye to a near and dear old friend. But the truth was... he was saying goodbye to himself, and the life he had been accustomed to up until Ben's passing.

Reaching up, with a heavy sigh, Peter pulled down on a piece of cloth that rested atop his head, as a fully face mask covered him, completing the costume he was adorned in. Giant, bug-like eyes stared out at him now, as he said hello to his new self. And his ultimate responsibility.

"This is for you, Uncle Ben..."



"The first day of the rest of my life."

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Old 07-16-2007, 08:25 PM   #3
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

Tuning is a fine way of life - oh one second, what am I riding with, the Ak-47 or the Uzi? Yeah, you never say the Uzi. I haul the AK off the rack and slide the lock back. That sound, that wonderful sound. You can see why terrorists and other people of that nature like this lil' beauty so much. The power it wields, and how you get caught up on it as you let a load fly.

Anyway, I digress. I could see myself tuning the scope on this here PSG-1 for the rest of my life. The attention to detail, the quality, all to execute that single, demanding shot, like a thunderbolt, ripping through the sky.

So I punish, at least I'm going to for the first time tonight. Drug dealers, muggers, rapists, kidnappers, you name it, I'll kill it. Maybe I should chew something while I'm out? Gum? Tooth pic? Nah, too attention seeking for me. Listen to me, getting all excited about going out to slaughter. Its gonna be a red Christmas, every damn night.

I whistle casually as I load up the van. Soon I'll be on the - oops, careful where you point that RPG Frank - road, gunning, running, makes my spine tingle. I don't know why, there's so many other things I could do in life...

I should be a god damned comedian for instance. Forget what I'm doing now, obessively tuning up this AK, while polishing this PSG-1, I need to go on Leno, or Letterman, make people laugh, and make millions. I swear, whatever goes on around me, partners being shot, family being murdered, I find the perfect line to say, just never blurt it out.

But that's not what I want to be seen as. I may be insane, but I want to send the message of "Commit a crime, and you're dead." not "Sorry, but if you do naughty things, I'm going to have to come and give your ass a kickin'!" maybe no difference to you... who ever's reading this, but a world of difference to me.

Okay, scope's tuned up, silencer's equiped to the PPK, Raging Bull in my pocket (heh heh), looks like I'm all ready to paint the town blood red. I cock my shotgun. "Let's lock n' load." It's punishing time.

Scum bags, start running.


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Old 07-16-2007, 09:05 PM   #4
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One



Los Angeles

The club turned out the latest hits as the room filled of 20 somethings and would be actors danced the night away. One man sat in the VIP room with a glass of Scotch in his hand.

"Come on, Tony. Dance with us!"

Miss July was tugging at the arm of one Anthony "Tony" Stark. The world's richest man under 30 and professional club hopper. Tony only smiled as he sipped his Scotch.

"Sorry, Brittany. I don't really feel like dancing. I have to go on a buisness trip tommorow morning."

She purses out her lips trying to mock sadness.

"Come on. Please?"

He sips his Scotch and arches his eyebrow.

"I have a better idea. How about you and Miss September come back to my hotel? Make sure I get to bed nice and early."

She giggles and nods.

"Okay! Sure!"
**********
Tony sat in the bathroom, removing his shirt and flexing his muscles, a dry martini on the sink.

"Ohh, Tony? Brooke and I are ready."

He takes the martini and swigs in down. Smiling in the mirror.

"It's good to be the king."


LAX
The Next Morning


Nursing a slight hangover, Tony walks onto the tarmac. A man dressed in military outfit walks up and shakes his hand.

"Mr. Stark, I'm Captain James Rhodes. I'll be your military escort in Afghanistan. How are you feeling today?"

He smiles and shrugs as the walk towards the airplane.



"On top of the world, James. On top of the world."

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Last edited by Byrd Man; 07-16-2007 at 09:42 PM.
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Old 07-16-2007, 09:41 PM   #5
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

(IC: Jean Grey)

A few years ago

“Welcome back. I’m Miss Fireo, and for the next 180 days, you’re mine,” said the teacher, who could be no older than 26. She primped her hair, using the singular window in the room as her mirror, before reaching for a gigantic stack of textbooks. Everything about her was annoying, Jean thought. This Miss Fireo dressed like she was stuck in the late 90’s and acted like she was the cat’s meow. The teenage outcast already decided she hated the woman.

“You are now entering the age where you will begin making your own decisions that will affect the rest of your life. Hopefully, those decisions include doing your homework, which will guarantee a decent grade in my class. Now, who did the assignment I instructed you to do over the summer?” asked Fireo, laying a book on Jean’s desk.

Jean looked around at her fellow classmates. None of them were raising there hands. Great! Jean was the only one who did her homework. She never understood why people didn’t do it. They always complain about their low grade but if you notice, they never do their work! How do they expect to pass? As she raised her hand, she thought about how much she hated those people.

“Well, it appears as if,” The teacher looked at her seating chart. “Miss Grey is the only one to do her homework,”

Everyone in the classroom started to laugh. Jean titled her head down towards her desk and put her hands over her neck. This meant another year of embarrassment. She was so tired of this. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out their mocking insults. Something else popped into her mind instead.

“What a dork,”
“I wonder if Steve-“
“Why does-“”How can she-“”What?””…hot””Mhhhm””Oh my god!”

“STOP!” Jean cried out. She could hear all of them in her head at once! What was this? Was she going crazy? This never happened before! It felt like thirty different people were in her mind! Their voices sounded so familiar…almost identical to the ones sitting around her. The teacher looked at her in surprise.

“Miss Grey, do you have a problem?”

“Can’t you hear them? Can’t you hear-“

“She’s so strange. One in every class.”

“STOP IT!”

The textbooks on the students’ desks lifted up into the air. Miss Fireo looked at Jean in astonishment, but within seconds her face tensed with disgust, as did the faces of her students. Jean glared at them, scared and embarrassment. This couldn’t be happening! Her life was already messed up, but now this? She was a…mutant!

“STOP STARING AT ME!” she screamed, her voice distorting into a demonic snarl.




The books disintegrated in midair, scattering ash all over the floor. Jean got up and started to cry. She had been made fun of and been hurt all her life, but this was the topping on the cake. Without even saying a word, she rushed past her frighten teacher, who couldn’t do anything than cup her hand over her mouth, and ran to the bathroom.

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Old 07-16-2007, 10:08 PM   #6
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Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

In the throne room of the the Castle Doom, capitol of the Latverian government, the air is thick with the tedium of bureaucracy. Parliament is in meeting, and King Victor Von Doom, PhD, is barely paying attention. While a constitutional monarchy on paper, Latveria is an absolute monarchy in practice, and Parliament serves as little more than publicly elected royal advisers.

"<Gentlemen>" says Doom, "<we are not at war, there is no rampant health crisis, crime rates are low, test scores are up, and the number of people bellow the poverty line is negligible at best. As such, I do not believe that the Ministers of War, Health, Law, Education, and labor have much of a reason to be speaking right now. Do you?>"

Naturally, he is met with a unanimous "No, you're highness." Of course, they were speaking Romani, so it obviously sounded quite a bit different, but still.

"<Mr. Minister of Agriculture, do you have anything to report?>"

The Minister of Agriculture feebly stands.

"<Ah, yes, well...you're highness, we...um...ah...the country...um...Latveria is facing a minor drought. While short term damage to the farmers' crop is minimal, long term damage may be quite severe, depending on how long the drought lasts. Un....um, unfortunately at this point we...ah...we have no way of predicting how long that will be.>"

Doom sits silently, thinking over what he's just heard. The Minister of Agriculture, in turn, tries desperately to fight back the urge to cry and hopes that his children will follow the funeral orders in his will. You see, Doom's cloak and mask make it very difficult to discern what he is really thinking. And it makes him look very angry most of the time.

"<Mr. Minister>" says Doom, "<thank you for informing me of this. Keep an eye of the situation. I will think it over and, in four days, I would like you to accompany me to a meeting of the Scientific Institute to look for a solution.>"

A wave of relief, so strong that he could be quite literally swept away by it, washed over the Minister of Agriculture.

"<Y...yes, you're highness.>"

Doom stands.

"<Thank you all for coming. I believe that this meeting is adjourned. Please, leave. Now.>"

The Ministers quickly shuffle out of the throne room. Doom's valet, Boris, walks into the throne room and stands beside his employer.

"<That>" says Boris, "<was unnecessarily cruel.>"

"<But highly entertaining.>"

Doom stands and walks towards the stairs that lead to his bedchamber.

"<Boris, I believe I need a small break to rest myself. Perhaps even have a little fun. But still, of course, get some work done.>"

"<Where are we going, Victor?>"

"<There is a meeting of the United Nations general assembly up coming, correct?>"

"<Yes.>"

"<Then I think I should fulfill my diplomatic duties. Let's go to New York.>"


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Old 07-16-2007, 10:56 PM   #7
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One


America.

Home of the brave. Land of the free. Nation of the rich. And country of the powerful. Among the achievements in power and wealth, aswell as the strive to gain respect from even the most lowly classes of human beings in the world, there comes embitterment. Rivalries. Violence. People who eliminate other people in order to take their place on either the social ladder, the ranking of wealth, or... in some cases, just for the hell of it. And each and every one of these ruthless, wealthy, and powerful people knew that if they were to achieve this goal, but achieve it without getting their hands dirty with the law, they would have to have a price that would catch the attention of those more... willing to get their hands dirty.

And that, usually, was where Wade came in.

"Jumpin' jalopies! Who the frick's flying this thing?!"



The assassin known simply as Deadpool, The Merc With A Mouth, ran forward, eyes widened, amongst a trail of recently deceased and slaughtered corpses of the guards that had opposed his onslaught aboard a private jet that had taken off from Prague, heading back to Buckingham. The jet belonged to the Prime Minister's aide, who had taken the jet to Prague for a mission of peace. Now, in an ironic twist of fate, he sat dead in his chair, a large sharpened katanna sitting both in his chest, and out of his back. Had Deadpool actually understood the concept of human compassion, he probably would've felt bad for being the cause of that.

Instead, his concerns remained with the more immediate situation, as he tiptoed over various corpses, careful not to step on the 'gooey bits', and made his way to the prime minister's aide. Grabbing the handle of the katanna, Deadpool bent down, facing the rolled back head of the aide as if he were still alive.

"'Scuse me, Mr. Fish n' chips, sir. I'm gonna need this back. You won't mention this little mishap to my superiors, will ya?", Deadpool asked, in a manner that would've seemed completely sarcastically vile, but was actually a serious question to the mercenary.

Grabbing the cheeks of the aide's face, Deadpool moved them back and forth, to mimick a response with the unmoving lips.

"Oh bloody hell! Go right ahead, m'lad! I seem to be in a bit of a pickle meself! I've gone and bled all over me new pettycoat!", Deadpool stated, in a mocked british accent, before hurriedly grabbing the bloody katanna, ripping it out of the flesh, and giving a salute of respect to his victim.



"God help the Queen, and all that!", Deadpool exclaimed, before turning around and pausing, mid step. "...Wait. I don't think I said that right."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the plane seemed to plummet, as Deadpool was thrown into the side of the craft, his katanna flying right into his own torso. Immediately, Deadpool sprawled up, and stood, noticing this.

"Heh. I bet this'd hurt if I poked it.", He told himself, before looking around, making sure no one was watching. "Oh, what the hell..."

Moments later, a scream errupted from the plane that was so loud, the passengers of the plane that flew past the out-of-control jet looked over in wonderment, swearing they could hear a sound.

Pulling the katanna's blade out of his torso, and watching as it simutaneously began sealing itself up, Deadpool grabbed the katanna, and lifted it above his head, in a warrior-like manner.

"Alrighty. Enough beating around the bush. That pilot's door is coming down faster than a Trump attack on Rosie O'Donnel!", Deadpool shouted, before rushing forward, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"AHHHHHH-AAAA-AAAA-AAAA-AHHHHHH-AAAA-AAAA-AHHHHHHLLLLLLLRRRRRIIIIIGGGGHHHHHTTTYYY TTTTTHHHHEEEENNNN!!!"

Instead of breaking down the door, however, Deadpool flew head first into it, smashing his face before falling back and landing admist two of the dead guards on the jet's floor. Pushing himself up, frustrated at his own lack of progress, Deadpool looked around.

"Huh. That's weird. Where'd my sword go?"

Little did he know, the sword was actually lodged through one of his ears, sticking out of the other, and covered in brain matter. Still failing to notice this, Deadpool stood up, obviously dizzy.

"Okay, okay, okay. Let's try a new approach, Wadey...", He told himself, before digging through his belt, and excitedly pulling out a small, detonative object.

"The fun kind!"

Moments later, in a firey inferno, the jet exploded from within, leaving nothing but ash and bits of scrap metal to fall into the seas below. It seemed, to anyone who would witness this, that there was no possible chance of survival.

They, however, didn't didn't know diddly squat about Deadpool.

"WHERE THE HELL IS THAT ASSASSIN?!"

The head of a roundtable organisation that sponsored terrorism and, more reccurrently, publically criticised members of the United Nations for apparent acts of conspiracy against their own goverments, grew angry as he slammed his fist on the board room table of their headquarters. It was the morning after the assassination of the British Prime Minister's aide, and they had anxiously waited for the results of that particular hit. Mostly due to the fact that they themselves had put it out.

"Perhaps he failed?", One question.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the twin doors to the boardroom flew open. The members of the organisation all turned, to view a most peculiar, and out of the ordinary sight: In walked Deadpool, his costume in tatters, his visible skin highly deformed and wounded, and his leg being knawed upon by live rats. Dragging that leg behind him as he entered, Deadpool stood, silently, facing the members of the board, before turning to the one that had suggested he had failed. Walking over to that one, civilly, Deadpool stared at him for a long moment.

Then, without warning, Deadpool threw a large object onto the table infront of the man. It was the charred, dismembered, but still recognisable died-out head of the Prime Minister's aide. Pointing his index finger in the man's face, Deadpool breathed, hard, before leaning down and sneering at the man through his tattered mask, exclaiming a phrase that both summed up his displeasure in the accusation of his own failure, and oddly, perfectly described Deadpool's rational thought and maturity.

"Nah-nuh-na-na-nuh."

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Old 07-17-2007, 12:55 AM   #8
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ESCAPE FROM HELL

“Coucilman Evans, you’ve met my client, Miss Amber Reigns before, is that correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“You have a very personal relationship, in fact?”

“Yes.”

“And what is that relationship?”

Matt Murdock could not see it, but he could sense the defendant squirm slightly, though the jury seemed unaware of the uneasiness as well. It wasn’t there fault; they just saw the councilman in a different way…literally. Matt could hear the grief fluttering of the man’s heart, pick up a shortness of breath, and even feel the minuscule rise in body temperature.

“She’s a dancer at Sal’s Strip Saloon. I paid for a private dance from her every Wednesday night.”

“So, it is safe to say then that you were there Wednesday, March Third?”

“Yes.”

“The night that Miss Reigns was assaulted and raped in the back alley of Sal’s?”

His heartbeat quickened even more.

“Yes, but I’ve already said, I had nothing to do with that. I have witnesses that have already testified that I left the club that night almost an hour before this incident.”

His heart quickened, skipped a beat. Body temp up again. Bingo. Liar.

“Yes, councilman, but some of those same witnesses say you also left after a very loud confrontation with my client, a confrontation she says came about after you crossed the line of customer privilege. Do you care to contest that point?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Miss Reigns wasn’t quite on her game that night, so to speak, and after I left her a tip a bit short of her usual amount, she began defensive and aggressive, and physically tried to take my wallet from my person. If you ask me, this whole thing is just a scam to get what she feels I shorted her, and then some.”

“You lying B@$TARD!”

Amber Reigns jumped from her seat in anger, quickly subdued by Foggy Nelson, Matt’s partner in law.

“Order! ORDER! Mr. Murdock, your examination just seems to be going in circles around what has already been previously been said. Do you have anything else to add?”

“No sir. I was just trying to reiterate the fact that Councilman Evans had not only the preexisting relationship with my client, as well as being in the right place in a very close time frame of said crime, and that we must also nto forget that bits of his skin were found under my client’s nails. This all coupled with the oft overlooked fact that my client has fingered him as the perpertrator…”

“All circumstantial Mr. Murdock.”

Councilman Evan’s lawyer stood up.

“Your honor, I would also like to remind the jury that several other men’s skin was found under Miss Reigns’ fingernails, something that is surely common in her line of work.”

“Noted. If nobody has anything else to add, the jury is adjourned for deliberation.”

-

“Not guilty. They found him not guilty!”

“Matt, there was no solid case against him. Some down on her luck stripper crying rape against a high class councilman. Things weren’t good for us from the start.”

“He did it, Foggy. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, he did it.”

“I’m not doubting you, buddy, but like I said, we were against the wall to begin with. Look, you can’t win ‘em all. All you can do is give it one hundred percent, right?”

Matt nodded slowly, the words sinking deep into his soul

-

“One hundred percent.”

Matt extracted a small metal box from the top shelf of his closet and laid it on his bed, slowly opening the lid. Inside were several neatly folded pieces of flexible, though highly tough, dark red fabric. He pulled out the top piece and held it out in front of him, as though he were looking at it. A red mask, designed to fit over the top part of the head, with a small horn protruding from above either eye. It was truly demonic to behold.

“It’s time.”

-

"Mmmmmm....so, how much do I owe you."

"Three hundred, but for a performance like that, I almost feel like I owe you."

"Doll, you gave me plenty."

The scantily clad woman emerged from Councilman Evan' car, walking around and leaning in the driver's window to collect her payment.

"So, you a regular around here?"

"I'm around every now and then. Can't stay in one place too long. Draws unwanted atten..."

*CRASH*

The windshield of the car suddenly exploded in a shower of glass shards, Councilman Evan's himself hit hard in the face by a hard, metal, red shaft. His call girl let out a shrill cry, backing away from the sudden commotion.

"Get out of here."

The voice came from the shadows, a low growl, booming from the bowls of Hell. The hooker hesitated for only an instant, and then was gone.

Evan's reached up and wiped a stream of blood from his nose, oblivious to the voice in the darkness or his feeling hooker. He was brought back to reality by a crimson gloved hand that suddenly found itself tightly around the Councilman's neck. He looked up, his face reflected back in the shiny, blood red eyes of the Devil himself.

"You have innocent blood on your hands, yet you run around free. You can only run from justice for so long before you have to pay the devil his due."


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Old 07-17-2007, 02:14 PM   #9
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One



April 30, 1945
Berlin, Germany


“Sergeant Fury, we have a possible tag on Hitler, sir. Intel has him entering the Chancellery shortly after the Allied arrival. A small battalion went to check on the information, and was engaged immediately in a firefight by the Fuhrer’s top police force.”

Nick Fury emptied a clip of bullets into an oncoming German surge, then dropped behind the burnt out Jeep he was using for cover to reload and address the young solider before him.

“I suppose they want some heavy artillery in there ASAP?”

“That was the plan, sir. Orders are for you and your team to infiltrate the building and bring him in, alive if possible.”

Fury cocked the gun and sprung up again, unleashing a stream of hot steel at the Nazi filth in front of him.

“Alive? They gotta take all the fun out of it, don’t they? Commandos! Fall in!”



-

<The American’s and Russian’s are closing in, my Fuhrer. The city is completely occupied and they have us surrounded. The cause is lost, my Fuhrer. They will surely capture this position and us as well.>

<They will have no such pleasure. Go. Defend us with honor, and if you fail in you task, I will take myself to eternal paradise.>


The secret police left the bunker of Adolf Hitler, who turned to his new bride, Eva Braun. He produced two small capsules from his jacket pocket, handing one to the woman.

<Should the worst come, bite into this, and it will be over quickly.>

A burst of gunfire from right down the hall startled the first couple of the Nazi regime. The splintering of wood as the door came crashing in broke a second or two of silence. Incompetent fools, they had forgotten to secure the blast door.

A small battalion of heavily armed, grizzled American soldiers, 9 men and 1 woman, entered the bunker, a path of destruction evident behind them.

Fury leveled his gun at the Nazi leader, growling between grit teeth.

“Don’t move one muscle. Face down on the ground…NOW!”

Seeing a possible open moment, Braun attempted to take her cyanide capsule. Displaying peak speed, Peggy Carter moved to the sinister bride, subduing her in a chicken wing hold. The Fuhrer used the lapse of confusion to pull a gun, aiming it not at the soldier, but pressing the muzzle against his right temple.

*BANG*

A splattering of blood, flesh and bone flew across the room as the gun dropped to the ground. Adolf Hitler dropped to his knees, howling in pain and grabbing at the bloody, mangled stub that had formerly been his right hand.

“They said they wanted you alive, you worthless son of a b**ch. Never said you had to have all your appendages.”

Fury turned to the Howling Commandos.

“Get his sorry @$$ outta here.”




<>=translated from German

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Old 07-17-2007, 04:37 PM   #10
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"No son of mine is going to act that way," Father reassures me. It's so cliche, but if I had a dime for every time he said that...well, it wouldn't really make a difference. As the heir to Rand Corporation, money was never a problem anyway. Now, my father...that was the problem.

I was probably the only kid I knew who wore a powersuit every day. My father would bring me into the office when he had his monthly meeting with the regional managers. I was forced to sit outside and read The Art of War. I was eight.

Ten years later, I was still being pressured, even more so now. I was 'becoming a man' and I had to learn how to run the company. All my life I was reminded that "One day, the company will be in your hands."

Truth be told, I wanted nothing to do with it. The lifestyle of a wealthy industrialist never appealed to me. I didn't want to sit in a stuffy office, wearing an overpriced suit for the rest of my life. I wanted more.

That's why I left. I didn't even say goodbye. I realized that I was risking my inheritance, but I didn't care. Money was only an object. I was fascinated by life on the other side of the fence. Down on the street, no one was aware that I was Daniel Rand. No one knew that I had money. On the street, I was a nobody, just like everyone else. I liked that.

I heard stories of a gang - the K'un-L'un. Word on the street was that the K'un-L'un possessed a Great Power. I was intrigued, to say the least. I learned everything I could about the K'un-L'un, up until that fateful day when I found their hideout.

Located deep within the heart of Chinatown, the entrance to the hideout was a large, wooden door. I knocked once and waited for a response.

"Can I help you?" a muffled voice on the other side of the door asked.

"I have come to train with the K'un-L'un. I wish to learn the ways of the Great Power," I explained.

I could hear the other man scoffing. "What makes you any different than all the others?"

"I am willing to prove myself," I state in determination. I didn't come all this way to be turned away.

"Very well then. Prove yourself," the man responds. I then hear footsteps moving away from the door.

I am confused. "Wait, how can I prove myself?" There is no response. I didn't understand what I was supposed to do. So I sat down on the ground and meditated. I went four days without food.

On the fourth day, I heard the wooden door creak open. A man steps out. "Come inside. You will need to eat before you begin your training."

As I stand up, I smile. I have no clue what is going to come next, but I've made it in. That's the important part. I have proven myself worthy. All I know for sure is that I must work harder than I ever have in my life. This may be my only shot, and I will not blow it.

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Old 07-17-2007, 07:16 PM   #11
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JOHNNY BLAZE: THE GHOST RIDER
Year I - Prologue


Johnny Blaze staggered back a few steps, but refused to collapse. He was going to take this beating like a man...

"Come on, boy! All you ever do 'round here is talk! Ain't you gonna show me you can back it up?"

Johnny stared at his step-father. Hatred fueled his gaze.

"I ain't got nothin' to prove to an old drunk like you!"

A hard right hook caught Johnny in the jaw. He fell back into the wall but refused to go down. He wiped the blood from his lip and stood his ground.

"Goddamn it, Craig! That's enough!"

Johnny's mother drove herself between her son and her husband, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Well hell, Naomi! Maybe if you taught that good fer nothin' boy some manners, I wouldn't have ta do this!"

Johnny shook his head and scoffed.

"How's this fer manners, you old goat? I ain't ridin' tomorrow!"

Johnny stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Craig Simpson seethed with rage.

"Naomi... you git out there and you find that boy! If he don't ride tomorrow... there's gonna be Hell ta pay!"

Naomi did not reply to her husband. She simply shook her head and darted out of the house. She knew where to find Johnny. She opened up the garage, saw that her son's motorcycle was missing, and got in the car. The cemetary was only a half hour away. The trip would've taken Johnny about ten minutes...

* * * * *

"Thought I'd find you here."

Naomi snuck up on Johnny and took a seat in the grass beside him. They were silent for a few moments; both looking at the headstone in front of them.


BARTON BLAZE
"We Are Each Our Own Devil... And We Make This World Our Hell."


"Why did he want it to say that?" Johnny asked.

"What?"

"That quote." Johnny said, pointing at the headstone. "Why did Daddy want it on his tombstone?"

"Your father loved Oscar Wilde."

"Yeah but... why that quote?"

Naomi chuckled under her breath and sighed deeply.

"You just had to know your father."

Johnny clenched his teeth and threw some blades of grass into the air.

"I guess I'll never get that chance, huh?"

Naomi looked sympathetic and wrapped an arm around her son.

"I'm sorry Johnny. I wish you could've had more time with him. But that's no reason to always be starting up with Craig."

"Come on, Ma! You know damn well that Daddy ain't got a thing to do with me startin' up with Craig!"

Johnny's eyes glazed over with tears as his voice rose.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Ma? You think that a lil' bit a make-up is gunna hide the truth from me? You think I can't hear the two a you at night, when he comes home drunk as a skunk?"

Naomi refused to look into her son's eyes. There was something special about that boy's eyes... When Johnny was angry enough with a person, he had a way of making them feel all the pain they'd caused, just by looking into their eyes...

"What do you do it for, Ma? We don't need him! We don't need nobody! With my ridin' I... I can make enough money for the two of us to live real comfortable!"

"Johnny... I love Craig! You're only eighteen! There's no way you could possibly understand! I don't need lectures from you! You think you know so much? You think that you refusing to ride tomorrow is going to help?"

It was Johnny who looked away this time. He stared as his father's grave, tears falling into the dirt...

"If you love me, Johnny... if you care about this family... you'll ride in the show tomorrow."

Johnny didn't reply. He was busy writing in the earth with a stick.

"Please tell me you'll do it. Johnny... will you ride?"

Johnny cracked the stick in half and cursed under his breath. He vowed then and there that he'd find away to get rid of his step-father. He'd make it so that he and his mother could be happy once more. He'd do anything...

"I was born to ride..."

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Old 07-17-2007, 10:29 PM   #12
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C h a m b e r : Prologue



"So where to tonight, luv?"

It was a night like any other night in London. Yet tonight would be the night that Jon would ask his beautiful girlfriend, Gayle Edgerton, to move in with him. After contemplating the proposal for a while, Jono knew that it was time to take their relationship to the next level. It had been a wonderful year for the two, and tonight just happened to be their anniversary.

"Oh Jono, you know it doesn't matter. Just as long as I'm with you."

Jon smiled as she linked her arm with his, pulling him closer.

"Right-o. I s'pose a bite to eat, eh? I could go for some shephards pie."

"Sounds good, babe."

The two continued down the street, until reaching a restaraunt just on the corner.

After sitting down and placing their orders, Jon ran a hand through those reddish-brown locks, eyes fixated upon the blonde bombshell in front of him. One couldn't help but to feel a bit nervous before asking such a question: "How would you feel about moving in with me?". The question ran through his mind over and over. Butterflies in your stomache? Jon Starsmore does not get butterflies in his stomache, he thought to himself.

"So, luv, I've been meaning to ask--", he was stopped abruptly by a sharp pain in his stomache. It was as if something was writhing within it, wanting to get out. Perhaps it was gas. Yes, just gas.

"Yes, Jon?"

"I've been meaning to---AUGHHHHH!", the pain intensified to an extreme, sending him straight to the floor, arms wrapped around his torso in agony.

"JON?! WHAT'S WRONG?!"

The pain became unbearable. The patrons sitting around them now huddled around, watching as Jon writhed in pain.

"Someone call a bleedin' doctor!", one man exclaimed, but by the time he finished his sentence, the unspeakable happened.



"YEEEEAARGHHH!"

The blast decimated the entire restaraunt. Bits and pieces of the roof flew into the air, along with a few bodies as well. The windows shattered onto the streets, which then began flowing with curious bystanders wanting to know what the hell just happened. Gayle was standing right over him, which gave her the epitome of the blast, sending her flying through the restaraunt window, and hitting spine first into a lamp post. He tried to call out to her...but...wait....no.....his lower jaw...was gone! The only thing that remained in the place of his organs was a burning furnace of energy, that sizzled and popped violently as his nerves reached their peak.

"He's a bloody mutant! Probably a terrorist! Call the police!"

After hearing the false claims, Jon knew he had to get out of there. Scurrying to his feet, he ran as fast as his legs could take him. He folded his coat over that glowing energy, so that he wouldn't be a shining beacon for the helicopters. His only way out was the sewers, which is where he started heading.

Upon reaching a manhole, he opened it and leapt inside, splashing into the murky waters below--and just laying there. Tears streamed from his face..though there was no sound of weeping..only the hum of the psionic energy that had inhabited his body. He felt unliving.......he felt, dead. Now all he could do is wait...and just hope that this was a nightmare.




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Old 07-17-2007, 10:41 PM   #13
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Anchorage, Alaska
A Few Years Back

Darkness. That's all I've know for the past few years. I always keep my eyes closed, I even keep the blindfold on to make sure I won't be tempted.

"Summers! You have a visitor."

Ms. Barkley shouts out to me as I manage to make my way past the beds and to the front of the orphange.

"Hello, Mister Summers. My name is Charles Xavier. I would like to speak to you for a moment."

I shrug my shoulders.

"Sure, why not."

"Good. I'd like for you to open your eyes."

"Believe me, pal. If you knew what these eyes could do. You wouldn't dream of it."

"I'm fully aware of your abilites, Mr. Summers. And let me say this..."

Your not the only one with special gifts.

He echoes through my head.

"Ahh! What was that? How did you do that?"

He chuckles softly.

"Please, Mr. Summers. Just do it."

I hesitate, but I slowly lift up the blindfold and open my eyes. I feel the power rush from my eyes, but stop. He's holding it in place with his mind. I finally get a look at this Xavier guy, he's bald and in a wheelchair, the wheelchair rolls over next to me and he pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket.

"Here, take these glasses. You'll find that they block the blasts from you eyes."

I reach out and grab the sunglasses, I slip them on and look through the red tinted frames. He lets his mind go and I'm just standing there. No blast and destruction. Just sight.

"I can see. That god, I can see."

"Like I said, you're not the only one with special gifts. I'd like for you to come with me. I'm looking for other special people like yourself, I'm starting a school."

I look down at him.

"What would I be doing with these people? What would you teach us?"

He flashes a soft grin.




"I would mearly open your eyes, Mr. Summers."

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Old 07-17-2007, 11:33 PM   #14
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Scarlet Spider.

It's 10:30 on a Wensday and Ben Reilly still sleeps despite the time. But thats what happens to a young man who stays up all night at a party. Thats the things about party's. Even if you say you're going to stay for a little while. Pure pressure makes sure you don't.

Ben sits up and yawns, rubs his eyes and and wait for his eyes to adjust. He begins to smack a bit for whatever reason. After another yawn he looks at the clock and gasp.

"Holy Crap! I can't believe I slept in!" He jumps out of his bed and franticly gets ready. He brushes his teeth takes a shower in all five minutes. He skips breakfast and puts on his best suit and tie. He starts out the door and runs through the halls of
Empire State University.

"Excuse me! Pardon me!" He says as he bumps into the students that are heading to there classes. This was a big day for Ben this would decided his future.

He had been going to ESU since he had graduated from high school. He was their on a scholarship for writing. He had always wanted to be an writer but never had time to get to deep into it because of his friends. Yep he was one of the cool people. As some of the other students would say. And because of his friends he was either out partying or whatever else they got them selfs into.

But Ben was smart enough to know these weren't his true friends. His true friend was Pete Small. He was a nerd. And his roommate. They had grown up together. They helped each other out through school. Ben made sure nobody messed with Pete, and he helped him with school. But besides there social differences they shared many interest. Comics, games, sports, they were best friends in every sense of the word.

Pete was also his alarm clock but wasn't there this morning for whatever reason. He'd have to find out later. There was more important things to do right now.

"Hey Ben! Great time at that party last night man!!!"

It was Flash
Thompson one of the big men on campus. "Yeah great time Flash. But I'll have to talk to you about it later. I got get somewhere before I'm late."

Ben pushes past flash and ignores what he said. He's got more important things to do at the moment.
After all of this he gets to the grounds. He runs across the collage campus disregarding the people he runs over to get to the street to hail a cab..

"Taxi!!!" He screams. It pulls over. He opens the door. "Where to bub??"

"Oz Corp. and step on it!"


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Old 07-18-2007, 02:44 AM   #15
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Once inside the K'un-L'un's walls, I instantly found purpose. Every day was dedicated to two things: meditating and fighting. We all ate two meals a day. The meals consisted of nothing more than bread and water, but we were grateful for all that we had.

I was a bit disappointed when I learned more about the Great Power. Apparently, only the K'un-L'un leader, Shou-Lao, knew how to harness the Great Power. Shou-Lao spent all day in his room, meditating. Unlike us, he only ate one meal a day. No one had ever seen Shou-Lao face-to-face. No one. It was said that he was waiting for the "chosen one" to come. Only then would he pass on the secrets of the Great Power. That is why the K'un-L'un trained. They were hoping that one of their own would rise to the occasion and prove himself as the "chosen one."

My father's business made multiple dealings with China. As such, I was somewhat knowledgeable of their culture. Father would take me on business trips to China. That is how I learned to meditate. This helped me manage to assimilate easily with the K'un-L'un.

I had never truly fought before in my life, but the K'un-L'un could never tell. My attacks flowed so naturally that I looked like a pro. Within months I had become considered one of the greatest fighters. I always pushed myself a little harder...sometimes at the expense of meditation time. My superiors warned me that if I trained too rigorously, I would burn myself out. I never did. I always managed to push the boundary of my potential.

Finally, nearly a year after I first found the K'un-L'un, I attracted the attention of Shou-Lao. "The Undying", as they called him, requested my presence in his quarters. It was a great honor, and I could not say yes fast enough.

As I entered the room, Shou-Lao did not stand up. I could hardly see him. The room was only illuminated by some sparsely placed candles.

"Who are you?" Shou-Lao asked me as I entered.

I was unsure of how to approach him. "I am Daniel Rand."

He did not move. Instead, he only replied, "That is your name. I asked who you are."

I was taken aback by his comment. I did not understand what he was getting at. Once again, I was unsure of how to respond, so I thought carefully before saying, "I am not sure what you are asking me."

"If you do not know who you are," he began, "How can you know who your enemies are?"

I was stunned by the profoundness of his words. I tried desperately to pull together a response, but nothing seemed to come out. That's when I heard him laugh.

"Do not worry yourself with the ramblings of this senile man," he tells me. "I only wished to test your character. Consider it the first of many tests."

"Then there are more to come?" I respond enthusiastically. I am suprised and pleased that he seems to be giving me a chance.

"I have waited and meditated in this room for a long time. There were many times that I doubted that the Chosen One would ever show himself. I must seem like a crazy, old hermit," he announces. I can already tell that he has a way of answering without truly answering. It is a trait that is both admirable and confusing.

"Why me?"

I can see him smile. "Modesty is a desirable trait in a Chosen One. Tell me, what do you know of the Great Power?"

All at once, I feel as though I'm being tested. I think through my responses carefully, lest I answer incorrectly somehow. "I know that you are the one who knows all of its secrets. I know that there are many who wish to possess the power for themselves."

"The Great Power has been passed down for generations...even long before the K'un-L'un first formed. It is said that the Great Power has been around since the beginning of time when nature was in total harmony. Ever since then, there have always been factions trying to seize it...and one trying to protect it," he explains to me.

"That is why the K'un-L'un first formed? They wished to keep the power out of the wrong hands," I suggest.

Shou-Lao laughs again. "You learn quickly. The Great Power was too vast, however, for even the K'un-L'un to protect. That is why the gods intervened. They took the mightiest and most pure warrior in the land, and they instilled the Great Power into him. From that point on, all of the power was contained within one man."

I nod. "And that man passed on the power to another? And the next man did the same, and so on."

"For every generation, there has been one who wields the Great Power. With it, he can face armies by himself. His hands and feet become more powerful than any weapon. The one who wields the power becomes one with the world surrounding him," Shou-Lao continues.

"You are the one who wields the power," I say.

It was then that Shou-Lao stood up. "In due time, I will train you to wield the power, Daniel Rand."

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Old 07-18-2007, 08:44 AM   #16
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

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Scarlet Spider.

It's 10:30 on a Wensday and Ben Reilly still sleeps despite the time. But thats what happens to a young man who stays up all night at a party. Thats the things about party's. Even if you say you're going to stay for a little while. Pure pressure makes sure you don't.

Ben sits up and yawns, rubs his eyes and and wait for his eyes to adjust. He begins to smack a bit for whatever reason. After another yawn he looks at the clock and gasp.

"Holy Crap! I can't believe I slept in!" He jumps out of his bed and franticly gets ready. He brushes his teeth takes a shower in all five minutes. He skips breakfast and puts on his best suit and tie. He starts out the door and runs through the halls of
Empire State University.

"Excuse me! Pardon me!" He says as he bumps into the students that are heading to there classes. This was a big day for Ben this would decided his future.

He had been going to ESU since he had graduated from high school. He was their on a scholarship for writing. He had always wanted to be an writer but never had time to get to deep into it because of his friends. Yep he was one of the cool people. As some of the other students would say. And because of his friends he was either out partying or whatever else they got them selfs into.

But Ben was smart enough to know these weren't his true friends. His true friend was Pete Small. He was a nerd. And his roommate. They had grown up together. They helped each other out through school. Ben made sure nobody messed with Pete, and he helped him with school. But besides there social differences they shared many interest. Comics, games, sports, they were best friends in every sense of the word.

Pete was also his alarm clock but wasn't there this morning for whatever reason. He'd have to find out later. There was more important things to do right now.

"Hey Ben! Great time at that party last night man!!!"

It was Flash
Thompson one of the big men on campus. "Yeah great time Flash. But I'll have to talk to you about it later. I got get somewhere before I'm late."

Ben pushes past flash and ignores what he said. He's got more important things to do at the moment.
After all of this he gets to the grounds. He runs across the collage campus disregarding the people he runs over to get to the street to hail a cab..

"Taxi!!!" He screams. It pulls over. He opens the door. "Where to bub??"

"Oz Corp. and step on it!"

"It's been ten minutes and we're not there yet. Gosh darn it. Ben thinks as he sits in the backseat of the cab. Today of all days is the day the mid-morning traffic decides to get heavy. We were just a few blocks away I could make it in time on foot."

"Here's your money." Ben says as he gets out of the cab. He starts down the street disregarding everyone in his way. He finally makes it to Oz. Corp with five minutes to spar.

He walks up to the front desk a little out of breathe and says. "I'm here for the Internship test. "

The young secretary at the desk tells him to go to the second floor on the right. The room is marked. He takes the elevator to the second floor and find the door. It's marked INTERN TEST in big block letters on the top of it.

Heh heh right. Ben opens the door and walks in. A grin spreads across his face. The room was full and that met competition. He was aways up for a little challenge.

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Old 07-18-2007, 10:59 AM   #17
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Marino's bar is filled with scumbags. If you're looking to get stabbed, mugged, raped, this is the place to be. Its Disney Land for criminals. Luckil, its pretty quite during the day, no one bothers to notice me calmly walk in, place a few bits and bobs around, switch a few bottles over, they're all to drunk to even care.

I've decided after tonight to do as little steak outs as possible, sitting here in the van is no joy, infact I had to catch a mugger and beat him up for a while just to keep myself from going mad (er) with boredom. But now its night, and the bar is bustling, the music bluring out, and screams of fights inside. Get a good look Frank, this is the rest of your life.

I pull out the detonator. The bits and bobs? C4, placed under every chair, managed to swipe some of that from the evidence locker before I left work. I swirl my thumb over the button. Wait -- I'm sorry but I've gotta see this for myself. Getting to my feet, I stroll over the road, and open the door, leaning in.

Everyone swirves round to see me, wondering what the hell's going on. "Hi. Bye." I press the detonator. Obviously, I underestimate C4, shown by the force of it blowing me back into the street. It sets me back alight with pain, but I'm more annoyed that I missed the show.

Getting to my feet, I dive through the bar window, hit the ground, roll, and snap out a Raging Bull (a magnum with a damn cool name). A hefty fire's started, which is edging closer to the alcohol. Evidently, I could have planned this a little better, i.e. I could have just stayed in the damn van.

There are plenty of survivors, and plenty of bullets to share with 'em. Only I'm prevented from pulling the first trigger by a wooden board hitting the back of my head. I drop my weapon and stumble onto the ground. Like a swarm, legs come in, hitting me everywhere. Oh yeah, I coulda planned this alot better. My nose starts to bleed, one eye swells up, blood covering the other.

I manage to grab a bit of luck though, as the fire colldieswith the beer, sending up a huge blaze and knocking everyone off guard. I grab one guy's foot, and yank him to the floor, while using the momentum to get back to my feet, shoulder barging one idiot into the fire.

Another comes in for a punch, I grab his fist, move my other hand to his elbow, and snap his arm like a twig, proceeding to grab his hand, and swing him into another mug. Another fist goes round my face, sending me into the back wall. I don't cry out, I'm going to be seen as an unstoppabl-- ah bugger.

One of em's got possibly the biggest machete I've ever seen. I feel my legs and arms restrained, making it impossible to move. The machete is raised high. Well nice one Frank, this is your shortest career yet.

BANG

Lucky, lucky, lucky. The fire reaches my Magnum resting on the ground, the heat sends a bullet flying off, and through the machete guy's head. Taking the opperunity of surprise, I force on hand free and land in in someone's face. I manage to claw my second hand free an prodcue a knife from the wrist pocket, jabbing at the remaining hands on my legs.

Gotta reach the Magnum, gotta go in with more tha one weapon next time. I dive, seize my weapon, and roll onto my feet. The bar is scorching hot, one swift movemet is all I need to grab the bottle and haul is into the crowd. Explosive liquid. Don't ask me what kind, cause I honest to god don't know. "Any of you survive this (which is very unlikely) tell your other friends in the emergency room that The Punisher sent em." I fire one bullet, its almost poetic as it soars through the air, and into the bottle, causing a massive explosion.

I shield my face and dive under the bar. The screams stop, daring to pop my head out, I gaze upon the room, before being hit square in the nose. One big (and I mean big) guy, covered in blood and splinters, with a twisted smile. Didn't know you got movie villains here too. He kicks the Magnum out of my hand and steps of my wrist.

God forgive me, but I want to live, so I ram my foot into his testicles. He must be num there or something, he doesn't feel a thing. This could be a problem. I'm thrown across the room, into the bathroom. et in the cubicle, climb up and stab him in the head.

That plan's cut short by the appearance of the guys hand, smashing through the cubicle wall. "Oh for the love of--" he doesn't even feel my knife as I dig it into his arm. All he does is grab me, and pull me back through the wall. Two fingers are placed round my neck, he's gonna crush me like an ant.

I stap on his feet, I pull his hair, nothing. So I desperately fail with my hands, in search of something. Sink. That'll do. One tug - it barely moves, while my face starts to go red, and I forget what its like to breath. Two tug - A bit ore movement, come on, one more. Three tug - the sink flies off the wall and into his stomach.

All it does is wind him, but its enough to drop me. I feel my eye's slip back into their sockets, I'm going to need to throw up in a second, but first I finish this. I swing the sink back into his face, while smashing a mirror with my foot.

Grabbing a handfull of shards, I start pummeling them into the guy's cheat. praying he'll fall down. It manages to wear him out, and I'm able to push him back into the bar. Back into action though, he swipes me head, sending me to the floor. He's laughing, actually laughing at this. Well to be fair, I'd be having a ball if I was him too.

He steps closer to me and leans in. I grab hold of a wooden sharp and swipe it across his face. "That didn't hurt."

"I know, I was just moving it over to the other side." he glances to, see me light up the piece of wood in the fire. "But don't worry, this'll definately hurt." I shove the fire into his stomach. He screams and stumbles backwards. I jump to my feet, grab his neck and force his head into the fire. "I'm pretty sure that'll sting in the morning too."

All that remains is a burnt skull when I pull him back out. "Nice... I'm liking the look, might have to steal it off you." dropping the body, I finally get to vomit. Not a bad night... all things considered.

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Old 07-18-2007, 11:11 AM   #18
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(IC: Jean Grey)

Jean sat in the far stall in the back of the restroom. She had been sobbing for the last hour. A mutant! She was a mutant. All her life she was set apart from everyone. From having the wrong clothes to hanging out with the “theatre kids”, the people of Westchester High made sure her life was a living hell. How was she going to tell her parents? Wiping her eyes, she got up and opened the door. A trio of girls was surrounding the stall.

“*****ing mutie. Get the hell of this school,”

“At least I’m not plastic,” Jean replied walking in front of the leather skinned, bleach blonde bimbos. One of them cut her off and grabbed her by the throat. Another one punched her in the stomach. Jean grunted and looked at the offenders.

“Pig,””***** is going to get it,””Whore””Mutie”

“STOP!”Jean screamed, but not verbally. Her thoughts were echoing through somebody else’s mind. She was talking telepathically.

“Who said that?” the one who had Jean by the neck asked.

“I’m warning you. I can’t control this…it’s dangerous,”

“Shut the hell up,” she said, slapping her in the face. Jean’s eyes slid shut. Something was coming over her. She couldn’t stop herself. It was as if something or someone was taking over her mind.

“Open your eyes! I want you to see me when I beat the **** of you,”

Jean’s eyes fluttered open, but the person behind them wasn’t the same. Her pupils were morphing into pure ebony. The bathroom shook violently.

“She warned you,”

The girls looked around. Something was happening; they could feel it around them. The one restraining Jean released her grip, sending the poor girl to the floor. Her skin was tingling…burning.

“Scared, are you? YOU SHOULD BE!”

All the faucets in the bathroom came to life spraying water everywhere. With a toss of her hand, the water shot out from the sink and onto the girls. They shrieked, putting their hands over their faces trying to block it from coming through.

“Too cold?”

Immediately, the restroom steamed up as the water began to boil. One of the bimbos moved her hands away from her face. Her arms were covered in blisters, but by moving her hands away, her face was now exposed too. She screamed bloody murder as her flesh began to melt. As if they all thought the same thing, the condemned trio ran towards the door.

“Now now, ladies! It’s rude to leave without saying GOODBYE!”

The door slammed shut in front of them. Jean shut off the water spouts and motioned for the girls to come forward. They flew like they were in the blast zone of a grenade, their rag doll bodies slumping over in front of the redhead.

“You will never make fun of Jean again. I’ll make sure of it,” she whispered playfully.




“If you’re not Jean, then who…are you?” one of them weakly asked. Jean lifted her hands, making the girls rise into the air. She grabbed the girl who held her by the neck and pushed her face close to hers.

“I am PHOENIX!”

Instantly, the girls screamed as their skin began to burn off their frail bodies. The flesh on their hands was totally gone by the time they could even notice. Jean giggled as the quickly turned into living skeletons. In one huge finish, all there girls burst into ash, spraying the bathroom in human remains.

Jean’s eyes flashed back to their original green hue. She looked around. There was no recollection of anything that just happened. Seeing the debris, she ignored any ideas that she was the cause of it and ran out of the bathroom towards the cafeteria.

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Old 07-18-2007, 03:30 PM   #19
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One


ESCAPE FROM HELL: NEW DAWN

“Oh my God, Matt! Did you read the ‘Times’ this morning?!”

Foggy Nelson burst into the office of his law partner, wildly waving that morning’s copy of the ‘New York Times’ in the air.

“Um, noooooo…” Matt raised an eyebrow from under his sleek red sunglasses, questioning his partner’s faux pas.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you didn’t. Well, did you watch the morning news?”

“Foggy…”

“Yeah, yeah, right. Did you listen to the radio this morning?”

“Couldn’t. Mine’s broke.”

Foggy threw the paper on the desk.

“Somebody beat the snot out of Councilman Evans’ in a back alley last night!”

Matt could hear Foggy unfolding the paper. The rustling provided him with a somewhat hazy radar image of the scene playing out in front of him. From what he could “see” and hear, the story had made the front page.

“Not a bad way to start.”

“Councilman Jarred Evans was found severely beaten late last night in an alleyway several blocks from the club where he was recently found innocent of raping a performer. The councilman was found lying outside his car by a passerby, the windshield shattered and several dents and scratches marking the body of the vehicle, further evidence of a struggle. Evans sustained a broken nose, broken eye socket, several teeth knocked loose, a fractured jaw and dislocated shoulder, as well as severe bruising and lacerations spread over his entire person ,” Foggy read from the article.

“Does it say who did it?”

“What, are you kidding? That’s the best part of the article…”

Foggy continued reading.

“Before the councilman slipped into unconsciousness, he claimed in a state of hysteria that he had been attacked by a demon of sorts, a devil, complete with redskin, pupil-less red eyes, and horns. He went on to announce that he was in deed guilty of the rape of Amber Reigns, offering as a confession of sorts to keep the devil from stealing his soul. Toxicology tests are pending, and new charges are pending against the councilman.”

“The…devil?”

“I know, it’s awesome, isn’t it.”

“It’s a delusion.”

“No way. Weird stuff is always happening in this city.”

“Foggy, man, why do buy into this stuff. I mean, you’re convinced that the disclaimer at the beginning of the ‘Weekly World News’ is a government ploy to cover up those stories in plain site.”

“What better place to hide them. Look at the whole fiasco with Area Fifty-One. Try to hide and, and no one will let you alone. Put it out in plain sight, and nobody cares.”

“There is just so much wrong with what you just said there. But that’s beside the fact. The article even said he was hysterical. He passed out, probably from head trauma. Maybe his conscious got the better of him in his delirious state.”

“You’re too closed minded. Everything’s black and white to you; always by the books.”

Foggy stood up. Matt could tell by the sound of his heart and the tone of his voice that his law partner was pouting.

“Party pooper,” he muttered, exiting the office.

Matt turned in his chair to face the window, the warm sunlight filtering in and bathing his face in it’s comforting glow. He smiled, ever so slightly.

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Old 07-18-2007, 05:22 PM   #20
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

THE MANDARIN

Sunshine poured through the clouds, bounding off the perfectly polished windows and walls of glass that stood up tall reaching up to the sky. The pinnacle of urban industrialisation, the centre of the western commerce and financial world. A symbol of capitalism, and the inequality is represented.

The stillness of the city was broken as burning flames tore through several downtown buildings. Metal bending and hundreds of feet of glass shattering, hurtling their way down to earth. Cars crushed underneath the weight of damage from the blast.

Several inferno’s now blazing, thick black smoke billowing across the skyline as people were frozen in fear and terror, unable to do anything but watch.

Bomb experts almost instantly on the scene, arriving with the utmost urgency. Charged with finding the remnant of the devices and tracing them, however they would find none, as there was nothing to be found.

The financial district devastated, the heart of this bustling metropolis ground to a halt as various teams of fire-fighters and paramedics rushed in. It was a gruelling price to pay, but the Mandarin had to pay it. He strolled away from the district, seemingly a normal person. His legacy was now spreading, America would fall, capitalism would fail, and communism would rise from their ashes.

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Old 07-18-2007, 05:57 PM   #21
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

THE MANDARIN

The night smelt of sulphur and charcoal, rescue teams searched the wreckage, not searching for survivors, but bodies, and any sign of the device. Every expert called in was convinced there was no bomb, no explosives, no sign of anything to cause the detonation. It was as if the building combusted without provocation, however there was most certainly motive and reason behind it. Soon people would become aware of this.

In a bar, people talked. Comparing theories and thoughts about this attack from nowhere. Yet one was silent, a man of Asian origin sat alone in the corner. Quiet. Listening. It was not long before the rumours he wished to hear arose.

“I heard about this guy right. Some kind of Chinese freedom fighter. They say he could grind an entire city to a halt. Rumour has it he’s chalked up tens of stunts like this moving across from the east over this way.”

“It’s just bloody terrorists mate.”

“Seriously, this guy, they call him ‘The Mandarin’. His own government said he died years ago, that he was some sort of rebel. Yet everywhere there’s chaos in the western world, rumours of him spring up from nowhere.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah man. He’s only targeted symbols of capitalism right….banks, government offices and stuff. This guys serious.”

“And where’d you hear this exactly? Internet forum?”

“This guys all over the place, hidden here and there on the net, word of mouth spreads him. Hell, he’s even in a few books.”

“You’re into your conspiracy theories far too much.”

A smile spread over the loner’s face. Electric lights glimmering and reflecting off of ten pristine rings. This conversation was one he had heard many times, and as time progressed, it’s frequency rose. Soon the world would tremble, and so would begin the reformation.

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Old 07-18-2007, 07:32 PM   #22
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One

C h a m b e r:
Chapter I: A New Genesis



<Hello, Jonothan.>

The voice of a man bounced around in Jon's head, his head whipping to the right, then the left, to see if anyone was there. Standing up, he pressed his back against the curved cement wall of the sewer, eyes scanning the area.

<Wot the bleedin 'ell?!">
, Jon thought aloud, which seemed to somehow be audible to the opposite voice.


<I'm sorry, I must have startled you. I am professor Charles Xavier, and there is no need to look for me there, my friend, for I am speaking to you by the means of telepathy, from Westchester, New York.>

<Telepathy?>

<Yes, Jon. And you posess it as well. This is how you're communicating with me from thousands of miles away. It's a way of speaking...without the actual voice. I too, am a mutant like yourself, and I am currently running an equilibrium to teach, and train young mutants to harness their powers for the safety, and greater good of man. I can help you Jonothan, to control your gift.>

<Gift?! You call this a bloody GIFT?! MY FACE IS GONE! I DON'T KNOW HOW TO BREATHE ANYMORE, THERE'S A BLEEDIN' VORTEX OF ENERGY....THAT HAPPENS TO BE WHERE MY RUDDY STOMACHE, LIVER, AND LUNGS USE TO BE! This is no GIFT, it's a F**kin' smite from God himself!>

Jon slammed his fist into the concrete, those biochemically induced flames rising from beneath his coat slightly.
<You're not alone, Jonothan. Here in my Institute, I provide a haven for mutants that are cast out into the world...with nowhere to go. Just recently, a child was brought to me, who's saliva had the same reaction as sulfuric acid. Not only that, I have a young man who can't open his eyes without obliterating a city block. There are others like you, Jon...and we're here to help.>

Jon contemplated the proposal for a minute, although he was sure the man was probing his mind already.

<I'll do it. Just don't be readin' my mind, alright?"

<Never do without permission, Mr. Starsmore. You're extraction will arrive shortly--and don't worry, we'll know where you are.>

The professor smiled, before removing Cerebro, and exiting the spherical chamber. Once within the hallway, he projected a telepathic message to the team.

<Suit up, my X-Men. I have a new mission for you all. You will be travelling to London; meet me in the briefing room for details.>




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Old 07-18-2007, 09:35 PM   #23
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The solitary figure trekked slowly through Norther Siberia, GPS in hand. He appeared to be search for something, continually checking his position against the coordiantes the GPS had been sending to him.

It should be here, he whispered as he gazed out over the frozen tundra. There was nut a plain of snow for as far as the eye could see. "Why isn't he here?"

It was then that there was a slight rumble coming up from behind him. The man turned to see what was approaching. As he dead, two fighter planes came zooming over him fire guns during its first pass.

"Bloody hell," he said as he tried to run. His heavy boots greatly inhibited his ability to dodge the bullets raining down on him. Within seconds the planes were gone just as he tripped and fell to the ground. The man felt a stingin sensation in his chest just as his eye sight began to get fuzzy. He looked down at the snow beneath him. It looked as though it was a red slushy.

"What is--" he said before bringing his gloved hand to his chest. It was damp. "I've been shot! Oh bloody...I've been shot. I'm going to die."

He started hyperventillating as he it became harder and harder to think. I van't lose conciousness....If i lose conciousness I'll never wake up.

He looked around for a place to hide. Nothing.

And then he saw the fighter planes start to circle back. They were coming back to make sure he was dead.

It was getting harder and harder to think.

Place to hide...snow...blood..die.........he thought as he inched his way across the snow on all fours.

blood...Please, he began to plead, I don't want to die.

The man, all the strength in his body, collapsed to the snow covered ground as he bled out.

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Old 07-19-2007, 08:50 AM   #24
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Default Re: The "Dawn Of Marvels" RPG: Year One



ONE YEAR AGO...

"Happy Birthday!"

Bobby Drake stared in awe at the old 1988 Honda CRX in the driveway. "No way! Are you serious?!"

Mr. Drake chuckled. "Every sixteen-year-old needs a hot set of wheels! I just got a new windshield put in, and I bought some covers for the seats. (The passenger seat is a bit ratty). The old owner even had a 12 CD Changer that he threw in for free."

Bobby ran his fingers over the new car. It seemed to sparkle, dispite the small bits of rust around the fenders. "This is by far the coolest present you guys have ever gotten me!"

His mother chuckled. "Just promise us that you won't do any dangerous stunts in it!"

Bobby hugged his mother. "I promise, Mom."

His father tossed him the keys. "Here ya go, why don't you go take it for a test run?"

**************************************************

LATER, THAT NIGHT...

"No way! This is by far the best thing you parents have ever gotten you for your birthday!"


Bobby stood outside the house of his girlfriend, Jade Jackson, showing off his new car. "That's what I said!"

She ran up to Bobby and wrapped her arms around him. She stopped for a moment. "Wait...it doesn't have a back seat."

Bobby smiled. "That's what I said at first, but check this out." He popped the hatchback and removed a peice of plywood, revealing a completely open space. "We could totally lay down back here!"

Jade chuckled. "That is too awesome."

"You wanna take it for a ride?"

**************************************************

Bobby and Jade kissed passionately under the light of the moon in the back of his CRX. "This is...the coolest thing...ever..."

Bobby grinned at her attempt of conversation inbetween kisses. "I know...we should...do this...more often."

Jade kissed him hard, and Bobby rolled over, pinning her wrists to the cheap upholdstry. He looked down at her with a smile. "I love you."

She smiled back. "I love you, too, Bobby." He leaned down and kissed her hard.

Suddenly, pulled her hands back as they kissed. "Holy s***, Bobby!" She pulled back, rubbing her wrists. "You're freezing!"

Bobby looked down at his hands. He couldn't be sure in the dim moonlight, but he thought they were ice! "What the hell?!" He began to panic. How was this happening? It didn't make sense?

"Bobby? What's happening to you?!" Bobby pulled himself back and sat down, allowing Jade to sit up as well.

"I...I don't know..."
Suddenly, frost began to collect on the windows, and the temperate inside the car dropped dramatically.

"Oh...Bobby..." Jade's face became blue, her lips purple.

Bobby couldn't believe this was happening. "No...Jade! We need to get out of here!" He reached for the handle to open the hatchback, but as his hand got near, ice encased it, making it impossible to open. "F***!"

"Bobby...how are you..." Her voice trailed off.

"Nonnonononono! Jade! Stay with me!"
He threw his elbow into the back windshield. "We've got to get you out of here!" He grabbed her arm and began to pull the two of them out.

As the two of them hit the pavement, Bobby only heard one word from Jade before she gave her last breath. A word that would change his life. "...mutant..."

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Old 07-19-2007, 10:32 AM   #25
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Originally Posted by Kaboom View Post
The solitary figure trekked slowly through Norther Siberia, GPS in hand. He appeared to be search for something, continually checking his position against the coordiantes the GPS had been sending to him.

It should be here, he whispered as he gazed out over the frozen tundra. There was nut a plain of snow for as far as the eye could see. "Why isn't he here?"

It was then that there was a slight rumble coming up from behind him. The man turned to see what was approaching. As he dead, two fighter planes came zooming over him fire guns during its first pass.

"Bloody hell," he said as he tried to run. His heavy boots greatly inhibited his ability to dodge the bullets raining down on him. Within seconds the planes were gone just as he tripped and fell to the ground. The man felt a stingin sensation in his chest just as his eye sight began to get fuzzy. He looked down at the snow beneath him. It looked as though it was a red slushy.

"What is--" he said before bringing his gloved hand to his chest. It was damp. "I've been shot! Oh bloody...I've been shot. I'm going to die."

He started hyperventillating as he it became harder and harder to think. I van't lose conciousness....If i lose conciousness I'll never wake up.

He looked around for a place to hide. Nothing.

And then he saw the fighter planes start to circle back. They were coming back to make sure he was dead.

It was getting harder and harder to think.

Place to hide...snow...blood..die.........he thought as he inched his way across the snow on all fours.

blood...Please, he began to plead, I don't want to die.

The man, all the strength in his body, collapsed to the snow covered ground as he bled out.
"I think we got him," one of the fighter pilots said over the radio as they zoomed over the man who was now laying motionless on the frozen ground, practically in a pool of blood.

It was then his fingers began twitch.

"Hold on," the pilot continued. "I think we got movement."

His body started covulsing-changing-turning.....

"Definite movement, we are re-engaging."

...becoming.



"We have problems."

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