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Old 05-26-2008, 01:22 PM   #1
CAHRPG
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Default The Create-A-Hero RPG Season II IC Thread

WELCOME...
TO THE CREATE-A-HERO RPG SEASON II

This informative pamphlet brought to you by:
Spike_x1
- Editor in Chief
NiteMare Shape
- Editor

First, an Introduction:
Quote:
It has begun.

We are the Game Masters and this is our world. For many millennia, the small planet named Earth has continued a mundane, un-noteworthy existence. Then, the metahumans came. Slowly at first, the genetic creations of this new dawn soon began to sweep the planet - ranging from every continent to every sea. The Blue Blur of Chicago. The Survivor of Lost Haven. Pulse of the Blitzen District. Kensei of Japan. These metahumans increased awareness and ushered in a new age in human evolution. It has been an exciting, unpredictable adventure - and it has only begun.

Super Terrestrial Review Inside Known Encounters, or S.T.R.I.K.E., has watched the evolution of these metahumans patiently - only interfering when absolutely necessary. Now, after a short time of observation, S.T.R.I.K.E. may be ready to make its move. The only question is, will they be a force of support or destruction to the metahumans? Only time will tell.

Though the people of Earth think they have seen everything, they are poorly mistaken. Many secrets and lies have yet to be uncovered. Is Area 51 really just a testing site for experimental aircraft - or is there something more sinister about its nature? Does the city of Atlantis lie submerged in the ocean - or is it the product of pure fantasy? Does intelligent life exist in space - or are humans truly alone? The key to uncovering these answers lies with the metahuman.

One month has passed, and so much lies ahead...
For Rules, Guidelines, Applications, and Rosters, Go To:
Find Your Way Around Lost Haven:
Quote:
Full Map:
Lost Haven:
Most Importantly:
HAVE FUN!
(Or Else!)


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Old 05-26-2008, 01:50 PM   #2
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Default Re: The Create-A-Hero RPG Season II IC Thread

THE CITIZEN
PROLOGUE

VIDEO-CLick to Watch!:

"David McDonald is an American."

"I grew up in a little place called Moorestown. It's about halfway in-between Lost Haven and Steelhammer."

"David McDonald is a team player."

"Being captain of my high school's football team was one of the greatest experiences in my life. I really learned what it was like to lead your men into battle, and what it was like to know they had your back."

"David McDonald is a patriot."

"I just feel this need to go out there and serve my country. So, right after high school, I signed up for the Navy. It's still the best decision I've ever made."

"David McDonald is a family man."

"Oh, I love my wife very dearly. I've known her since she was a cheerleader in high school. We knew we were going to be together ever since."

"David McDonald is a role model."

"I don't care if the people vote for me or my competitor. I just want people to get out there and vote. We live in a country with a great political system, but it relies heavily on the participation of the people."

"Will David McDonald be your Governor? Vote McDonald."

"I'm just one man - doing the best I can. But if we are all just one man - or one woman, or one child - and we all do the best we can, we're going to change the world."

-Paid for by friends of David McDonald.

__________________
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Old 05-26-2008, 02:48 PM   #3
Byrd Man
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Default Re: The Create-A-Hero RPG Season II IC Thread

The Wraith


Part I
Little Ulster
Now

The Camel cigarette hangs limply from my mouth as I stare at the blank typewriter page in front of me. Where do I begin? I guess I begin where all stories begin at...the beginning.....

One Year Ago

"This is Adam-12, we're in pursuit of a van, plate numbers 778 AMY."

The squad cars sirens are ringing full blast into the night. Peter, my partner, keeps the pedal to the metal as we tear down the dark country roads

"Adam-12. Requesting back-"

Peter rips the walkie talkie out of hand and presses the button.

"Dispatch, cancel that backup. I think we can handle it."

He hands the walkie talkie back over to me and smiles.

"Don't worry, rook. I'm sure we can handle 'em."


"What if they're packing?"
"So are we."

Peter reaches up and turns off the sirens and lights. The van we're chasing slows down and comes to a stop, we park behind him and Peter gets out.

"What are you?"

"Just follow my lead, Rook."

I gingerly follow my partner out of the car, he approaches the driver's window and leans his head in.

"Where's it at, Manuel?"


"Jesus, puto. You gave me a heart attack."

"Shut up and show me the merch."

I watch in horror as the driver hands Peter a clear plastic bag filled with heroin.

"That's that good **** right there. I'll take a few bags of these with my current protection fee."

"Pete! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

I rush over and poke my partner in the chest. He looks me over with those cold and calculating eyes.

"I think I should open your eyes. No matter what you do, rookie. You can't stop the drug flow into Haven. So, what's so wrong with me getting a piece of the pie in the process?"

"But it's wrong! We're suppose to protect and serve."

In a flash, Peter has his gun drawn, the barrel stuck in my face. The van's driver, along with two of his buddies in the back climb out, they too have pistols.

"Listen, Rook. Either you get with the program, or you have an accident."

Time seems to slow down as I try to decide what to do. My arms move quickly, I grab Peter's gun and shoot it into the air, the smugglers drop to the ground as I haul ass back to the squad car.

"Get him!"

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

I wince in pain and fall to the ground as a bullet hits me back in the shoulder.

It's all I can do to push myself back up and run into the woods.


********

My heart's beating a mile a minute as more gunshots and voices echo through the night. I've been running through the dark for close to a half hour now. My lungs burn with each breath I take in I dash through the darkness towards an opening in the woods.

The clearing I run into is a rocky cliff, the Atlantic Ocean menacingly looms at the bottom.

"It didn't have to be like this, rookie."

Peter and the drug runners come out into the clearing. They all have their guns raised at me.

"All you had to do was follow the goddamn directions. Now you have to die for it. It's going to suck, breaking in a new partner. This new one will be the third one I've had in a year. Internal Affairs are already starting to sniff around me. This is just going to make it worse."


Peter levels his gun at me, I back up until I'm only inches from the cliff's drop off.

"Just remember that if you kill me. I'll return to haunt you. A ghost of justice, a spirit that resembles all the wrong you have done. Justice will be mi-"

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Peter shoots me through the chest three times, how they didn't kill me, I'll never know.

I can feel the blood start to lay heavy in my chest as I lose my balance. Over the cliffs I go, falling down, down, down. My body makes a hell of a splash as I fall into the ocean. Darkness overwhelms my vision as I sink down to the water.


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

"Gahh!"

The air that fills my lungs is so sweet as I start to crawl out of the murky water and towards the sand. How long was I under? Where am I? Why am I still alive? What happened to Peter and the heroin dealers? I don't rightfully know. But I'm certain of two things, I'm alive and they think I'm not.

But what does that mean? It means Lost Haven's police force is truly lost. They've all become corrupted by the system. This can't stand. I joined the force to fight the wrongs, not to embrace them.

In that moment of perfect insanity, my mission became all too clear. Now, all I need to do is find a way to get these wounds healed, find a set of dry clothes, and get as far away from this place as I can.

Little Ulster
Now

The sun is just starting to set. I look at the pages on my typewriter, it's a start.

I stand up from my kitchen table and look around at the small apartment, it's filled with empty pizza boxes, ashtrays filled with cigarette butts, and stacks of instruction manuals. It's funny, I pay for my hobby by writing instruction manuals under the alias William Johnson. I heard my Safe Sex and You pamphlet will be in every high school from Lost Haven to Hollywood.

Wearing only my underwear, I walk into my closet. The black pants and shirt slip on easy, I put on my socks, lace my shoes, and tie my tie. There's no reason a spirit of vengeance can't look stylish.

I spend the next hour cleaning and greasing my .45s. I drive the clips home, put the safeties on, slide them into the double holster harness. After slipping my holsters, the trenchcoat comes on next. Then the gloves, the mask rolls down over my face nice and easily. Then the fedora to top it all off.

The sun is fully set as I climb out of my window and climb up the drainpipe to the roof top.

I feel a bit funny, standing twenty stories up in my outfit. The two .45s weigh my shoulders down. Lost Haven is going to hell in a hand basket. I hate to say it, but if guys like Survivor are our only hope. It's time they get some help.

I look down from the edge of the rooftop, a siren cries into the night. That's my cue. I leap off the roof and on to a nearby fire escape.

I no longer have a name, I only have one purpose, justice. I am dead man amongst the living. I am a spectre. I am a ghost.

I am The Wraith.




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Old 05-26-2008, 04:36 PM   #4
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Lost Haven

It's a dark night this evening. Despite the city lights, I can see the stars above the building roofs. It's peaceful. Very quiet. All around me there is no noise. It is calm and peaceful. But inside my mind? Inside my head it is very different. I hear the voices in my head yelling, screaming, arguing.

Some people think I am insane. They think the voices in my head are just figments of my imagination. They think the voices will go away with therapy, with drugs. No. Drugs is what got me into this mess. They won't get me out of it so easily.

I watch from the shadows of a dark alleyway as a young woman walks down the street. She's very beautiful. Very attractive. My eyes gaze at her form, her figure haunting my mind. I hear the voices in an uproar, yelling at me in anger and rage. They coerce me. Force me to do this. I can't help myself. This is how it must be.

"Yes, Maria. I know Derrick is a d*ck. Well, why else would I be with him? He's rich, remember?" She says as she speaks on her cellphone.

She passes the alley, and I start my hunt. Slowly I trail her, hugging the buildings as I pull the trenchcoat over my body. For a few blocks I continue my hunt. She continues to speak on her phone, oblivious to her surroundings. This one should be easier than the others. Unsuspecting. Succeptible. Dead.

Suddenly, she stops. She laughs loudly, and turns into an alleyway. As she walks down the dark, tight space between buildings, I smile maliciously. This is it.

About halfway down the alley, I call out to her. "Excuse me," I start, my mouth salivating eagerly. She turns around to face me, a large dark figure brooding over her.

"Hang on, Maria." She says into the phone. "What do you want, sir?"

What do I want? How funny. She is either naive or very stupid. This is Lost Haven. You don't get approached by strange men at night for no reason.

"It's a dark night, isn't it?" I ask in a sly tone. She looks at me with an annoyed expression, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. I notice she is wearing high heels. Perfect. She won't be able to get away.

"Yes, I guess. Look, I need to go somewhere. Don't get in my way, okay buddy?" She says turning around. "What?" She asks into her phone. "Nothing, some freak." She says as she continues walking.

"Oh, miss!" I call out to her once more. She stops and slowly turns, letting out a deep breath in a disgruntled tone.

"Yes?"

"One more thing...It's time to die!" I growl, lunging at her. I push her to the ground, slamming her body into the hard concrete. She drops the phone and begins to scream.

"Stop it!" She cries. "Dear God, someone help me!" She continues to fight me as I pin her to the ground. There is no escape now. Like a fly in a spider's web, she is doomed.

I raise my hand in the air, holding it up to the sky. I feel the familiar pain in my palm as a large spear cuts through my skin. In only seconds, the large fang protrudes through my hand. It is time to feast.

As I plunge the funnel into her back, I hear the voices in my head cheering. They laugh in an evil tone, coaxing me, supporting me. I cackle as I feel my body growing stronger.

The woman's cries grow quieter by the second as I absorb her body. Her cells are sucked through the funnel in my hand and pulled into my body. Inside I can feel the transfer. I feel the cells die inside me, their energy transferred to my tissues. It is almost complete.

Suddenly, the feeling of power ends. I look down and see the woman is gone. All that is left are her clothes, wrinkled and empty. She is gone. Dead. I stand to my feet slowly, adjusting myself to the newly found energy in my body.

I take a deep breath and smile. The spike retracts from my palm, and the skin grows back over the hole. The hunt has ended, the feast is over. The hunter has had his fill tonight.

I look back down at the ground and stare at the woman's clothes. Everytime it's the same. No evidence, no trace left. I take it all. Every fiber, every cell, every drop of blood becomes mine.

I walk over to her phone and pick it up. Slowly, I raise it to my ear, and I listen. I hear the woman on the other end, yelling out to her friend. "Jane! Jane are you there?"

"This is Derrick." I say in a convincing tone. "Send the police to my house right now. I've done a terrible thing..." I smile as I close the phone, ending the call.

I throw the phone to the ground and watch as it shatters to pieces. Derrick? Who cares what happens to him. Apathy is how I've gotten by. It's the only way I can do this. These aren't people. They aren't alive. They are my food, my life source. I use them to live, to sustain myself. I used to care. It used to hurt everytime I shoved that funnel into their bodies. But now? It mean nothing. They mean nothing.

I close my eyes as a new voice enters my head. A familiar voice. One I heard not two minutes ago, crying and screaming for help.

"What have you done to me? Are those my clothes? Where's my body!? Where am I? What's going on?"

"Shut up!" I yell aloud in rage, silencing her voice. "You're part of me now. You better get used to it."

"How...how did this happen?" She asks. I smile as I walk down the alley, making my way for home.

How, I think. The voices in my head whisper, talking amongst themselves. I hear their conversations. All of them at once. They speak about the new member, what is her name? Janey. How did this happen? I ask her inside my head. Where do we begin? I ask again.

To know how this started. To know how I became this monster, this beast. We must go back. Back to the begining. Back to Haven. It all started one month ago...eighty souls ago...back before I took the first life.

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Old 05-26-2008, 09:05 PM   #5
Eddie Brock
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Default Re: The Create-A-Hero RPG Season II IC Thread

THE CITIZEN

It's funny. Y'know, you make one passing mention that your wife was an art major in college, and they shut down the whole museum for a private tour. I guess position comes with privileges. And the best part? I haven't even been elected yet. Sure, I'm not the President or anything, but I can live with it. Besides, a couple years down the road, anything is possible.

Wow, listen to me getting ahead of myself! I'm not even the Governor of Maine yet, and I'm looking to the White House! I guess this isn't really reflecting my modest, humble upbringing, is it? I tend to get carried away at times. Just ask Katherine.

"Honey, look! It's beautiful, isn't it?" Katherine asks excitedly while pointing to a painting. I don't even bother to look at the painting. None of this art stuff means anything to me. It's just a bunch of paint on a canvas. Instead, I gaze happily at my wife.



"Yes, it certainly is," I respond distantly. I tend to ask myself on a fairly regular basis: how? How did I end up with a woman like this? What did I do to deserve such a pleasant fate?

I'm shaken from my wondering by a faint tug on my arm. Katherine has moved on to the next piece. I swear, she's like a kid in a candy store. I'm so glad I was able to arrange this for her. We rarely get a night out without disruptions, so to be able to walk around the museum with no one but the curator around - it's a real treat. Even the curator has kept his distance, letting us explore freely.

"You seem tense," Katherine announces suddenly without looking away from the next painting.

I shrug nonchalantly. "I have a lot on my mind," I explain. "You, of all people, know that."

Katherine nods concernedly. "I always say that you're going to give yourself a heart attack before you even find out the election results."

Unfortunately, it's the truth. I worry so much - even though the numbers have been in my favor for quite some time. Everyone assures me that I'm going to win, but I can't know 100% until Election Day. Needless to say, the wait is killing me.

"When we get back home, I'm going to start a nice hot bath for the both of us," Katherine purrs.

I spin her around and embrace her in my arms. "Why, Mrs. McDonald, I'm certain that you're not suggesting anything," I whisper.

"Well..."

WEEEOOOOOWEEEOOOOO!

Alarms. That can't be good. Katherine and I break our embrace and begin looking around nervously. Did we accidentally touch something? That would be our luck. We get a private tour of the museum, and we do something wrong. God, I can see the headlines now. I scan the room we're in for the curator, but he's not here.

"What's going on, Dave?" Katherine shouts over the noise of the alarm. She's holding her ears to protect them.

"I don't know!" I yell back.

That's when I see him. A dark, shadowy figure at the opposite end of the large room. I can tell by his stance and appearance that he's not the curator. It looks like the alarm wasn't an accident. There's a fourth person in the museum.

The figure pauses when he sees that he's not alone. He appears unsure of what to do - and unarmed, luckily. In his hand, he holds a burlap sack. How cliché. He stands completely frozen, sizing us up almost. That's when I realize what's going on. I turn around and see a Exit sign behind me. Katherine and I are the only thing standing in the way of his escape. Now what do I do?

In the center of the room, three large sculptures stand. They nearly separate the room into two halves, and there are benches placed at the foot of each sculpture. The robber dashes for the opposite side of the sculptures to put distance between himself and Katherine and I. I guess he didn't expect me to do what I then did. Hell, I didn't expect me to do what I did.

Sprinting for the exit, I cut off the robber's escape. I don't know what's come over me, but I can't allow this guy to just run away. When the robber pauses, I realize that I have no clue what I'm doing. I'm no cop! Sure, I was in the Navy, but that didn't really prepare me for anything like this. I find myself thanking the lucky stars that this guy isn't armed.

The robber tries to deke me out, but I think back to my football days. As a quarterback, I had to learn to read incoming would-be-sackers. They would always try to fake one way and cut around the other. This is exactly what this guy is trying. However, my football experience never taught me what to do next. On the field, you're trying to dodge the hit. Now, I'm trying to cause it. As if some inner linebacker took over my body, I hunch down and tackle this guy around the waist. We collapse on the ground, and I hear Katherine shrieking in the background.

I hold the robber down, hoping that the curator isn't far away. I look over at the burlap sack lying on the ground. I hope that nothing in there broke as a result of the fall. I'd never forgive myself.

"There you are!" the old curator announces. His outburst breaks my concentration just enough to give the robber an opening. He tosses and turns until he's free of my grasp. Then, he gets up and runs through the exit - minus his burlap sack.

"I should go after him," I announce.

The curator waves me off. "The alarm signaled the police. They'll probably catch him on their way here. Besides, you saved the artifacts," the curator explains gratefully. He smiles at me from behind his bifocals.

"Artifacts?" Katherine repeats.

The curator nods. "Oh, yes, I found him in the American History section - grabbing all kinds of priceless artifacts." The curator bends down and picks up the bag. He starts to rummage carefully through it. "Though, in some cases, I think his motives were more than monetary."

I arch an eyebrow. "What gives you that impression?" I inquire. It was always my understanding that criminals stole to get rich.

"He tried to steal the Amulet," the curator replies, drawing a star on a necklace from the sack. He holds it out for Katherine and I to see. "The Amulet is purported to give mystical abilities to the one who wears it."

Some old superstition? I really doubt that's what this robber was after. I bet he just figured that all of this stuff could go for a lot of money. I don't think he was trying to obtain 'mystical abilities.'

"The Amulet dates back to the Jamestown colony," the curator begins. "The Amulet was a gift to the colonists from the Powhatan Indians. It is carved out of deer bone, and the Powhatan allegedly performed a spell on it - to give it those mystical abilities. Legend says that Betsy Ross used stars on the flag because of this Amulet."

As the curator continues his story, he hands the Amulet to me. Katherine moves in close to examine the artifact with me. I must say, this is an intriguing tale - even if it does sound like a bunch of superstitious crap. You can't perform a 'spell' on an object and give it 'abilities.' That kind of thing just doesn't happen.

"The Amulet has been preserved and passed down for generations. George Washington wore it when he crossed the Delaware. Abraham Lincoln wore it when he gave the Gettysburg Address. General MacArthur wore it when he went to the Philippines. Eventually, it wound up here - and we kept it safe. Until tonight, apparently."

The curator frowns at his last statement. I can tell that tonight wasn't one of his proudest moments. Even so, disaster was avoided.

"I hope that you don't mind if - under the circumstances - I decide to close up for the night," the curator adds.

"Of course not," I insist.

Katherine explains, "We were just about done anyway."

The curator smiles. "Well then, I need to go explain what happened to the police. If you don't want any publicity for this, I can explain that the robber dropped the bag when he realized that the museum wasn't empty."

I contemplate it for a moment. Being able to say that I stopped a robbery would be great publicity, but at this point - I've just about had it with all the media attention.

Looking to Katherine, she seems to echo the sentiment.

"I'd really rather not have to answer a lot of questions for the police and the media. Katherine and I are tired."

The curator nods.

"Take your time. There's no need to leave right this second."

And with that, he turns on his heels to go to the main entrance where - I presume - the police have begun to arrive.

"What a night, huh?" Katherine asks once the curator has left.

"Yeah. What a night."



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Old 05-26-2008, 10:22 PM   #6
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Default Re: The Create-A-Hero RPG Season II IC Thread


One Month Ago

Three figures stand in the dimly lit road. Smoke billows up from the fire of a burning building, clouding the air and forming a dense cover over the block. The fire spreads from the house, running into the road and forming a growing wall. Where the tip of the flames end, the black smoke begins.

As the fire continues to burn, the three figures stare at each other. Each man keeps his eyes on the others, watching their movements, standing perfectly still. One of the men moves through the fire, his yellow tinted skin unaffected by the hot embers of the flame. This man is Lyle, a brutal murderer, known for his inhumane treatment of his victims. He uses no weapons, no devices, no special enhancements He does not need them. His only weapon are his fists and his muscles, giving him a power no normal man possess.

The other man on the street is Quickfire. A ruthless mercenary whose only desire is to kill his targets, and keep the from ever getting up again. He carries an array of weapons, each a new addition he picked up after every encounter. He smiles sadistically as he holds a nine millimeter pistol, pointing it to the back of the third man’s head.

The third man’s name is Pulse. The hero of Blitzen, known for his own unconventional and underclass methods. He wears a torn and bloody costume, his suit. It is stretched over his scarred and stitched body, barely staying together from its violent encounters.

"I'm going to rip out your throat for this." Pulse says in an hateful voice.

"A wise man once said 'There's nothing to fear, but fear itself." Quickfire says with a prideful cackle.

"Really?” Pulse starts, his fingers gripping together as he tightens his fists. "Then he's never met me."

Pulse leans forward, thrusting his elbow back as he bends at his waist. His elbow slams into Quickfire’s ribcage, causing him to lower his arm and fire his gun. As his finger pulls back on the trigger in a nervous reaction, the bullets shoot through the air, narrowly missing Pulse’s back.

Reaching his arm back, Pulse grabs onto Quickfire’s wrist. His grip tightens, causing Quickfire to drop the gun to the ground. Pulse’s twists his arm, cracking his adversary’s wrist and shattering two of the bones inside. Quickfire immediately reacts in anger, punching Pulse in the lower back.

Brushing off the blows, Pulse pulls Quickfire forward by his arm, thrusting his other elbow into the mercenary’s waist. Quickfire ends his barrage of punches, and reaches to his belt. He pulls out a switchblade, extending the knife portion and raising his hand.

Reacting quickly, Pulse leans back, and thrusts his head backward. With a strong jerk, he slams the back of his head into Quickfire’s face. The blow disorients Quickfire, causing him to be blinded by pain as the cartilage in his nose snaps away from the bone. Blood trickles down from his nostrils as he yells out in rage, ending his attack with his blade.

Pulse turns around and releases Quickfire’s arm. He flips around, hitting the assassin with his foot in a roundhouse kick. As his enemy falls to the ground, Pulse catches him by his arm, grabbing him by the wrist on his other hand. Pulse twists the arm at the joint, popping it from the upper bones and causing Quickfire to drop his knife.

Quickfire throws a punch to Pulse’s side, hitting him in a fleshy area, and causing the hero to release him. As Pulse stumbles forward a few steps, Quickfire grabs his gun on the ground. He jumps back to his feet, not realizing the extent of the damage to his left arm. He tries to pistol whip Pulse, flailing randomly at his foe.

Pulse dodges the attacks with ease, moving about the attacks with much room to spare. He drops to the ground, falling underneath Quickfire’s legs. He thrusts his fists into the ground and forces his body up, kicking Quickfire’s jaw and knocking his head upward.

Continuing the attack, Pulse flips to his feet, landing perfectly on the broken sidewalk. As Quickfire recovers, he aims his gun, preparing to fire. Pulse doesn’t hesitate, sending a shockwave from his legs, he propels himself into the air. Like a missile, he moves upward in a straight line. Quickfire fires at Pulse before his figure fades into the cloud of smoke above, disappearing into the thick mass.

Below, Quickfire falls to his knees, the pain from his arm suddenly hitting him like a bullet. He yells in anger, gritting his teeth as he looks down to his arm.

“****!” He screams, flailing his dislocated arm. “He broke my arm! He ****ing dislodged it! That little ****!”

“It’s your fault, Quickfire.” Lyle says in a disappointed voice. “You took your eyes off of him!”

“For one second!”

“One second too much. Pulse is fast. You can’t blink when dealing with him.”

“Yeah,” Quickfire says as he reloads his gun with one hand. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You let him get away, you fool! Now he could be anywhere! You can’t **** up like that again, boy!”

“I’m not stupid, Lyle!” He retorts with a sneer. “Pulse didn’t run. He’ll be back. He’d never runaway from a chance like this.”

“Like what?”

“To kill two guys like us. Murderers. Assassins. To him,” he smiles, rising to his feet and pushing the clip of the gun in, pressing it against his thigh. “It’s personal.”

“Guess you’re right.” Lyle says with a grin. “Guy’s too damn stubborn for his own good.”

Lyle shakes his head in laughter, his grin wide and sinister. His eyes fall onto the area around Quickfire, staring intently. As he looks closer, he notices something odd. He notices something missing, an object that was there not seconds before. His grin fades as he remembers what the object was, and he stands straight as his eyes slowly move up to Quickfire’s head.

“Hey,” he starts as his body becomes tense with worry. “Where’s your switchblade?”

Quickfire looks down to the ground, looking intently for his blade. To his surprise, it is gone, no trace of the small knife left behind. Immediately, Quickfire raises his head, trying to search for the imminent danger. Before he can blink, a loud whistling noise sounds.

It quickly dies, cutting off abruptly with no trail. Blood sprays up from Quickfire’s neck, spewing into the air like a leaky pipe. He yells out in a silent cry, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth.

As Lyle looks more closely, he notices something in Quickfire’s neck. It’s his switchblade, returned and embedded in the assassin’s throat. Lyle’s eyes move to the sky, intently looking for Pulse. As he stares at the sky, he hears Quickfire’s body hit the ground with a thump, followed by a dying groan.

“Dammit…” Lyle whispers to himself. “He killed him. He ****ing got him.” Lyle moves forward, cracking his body and trying to untense his muscles as he prepares to fight his seemingly invisible opponent.

“Nice moves, Pulse.” He calls out with a nervous smile. “But it will take more than just a knife to kill me.”

“I know!” A voice yells out in anger. Suddenly, Pulse descends from the sky, moving faster than he had when he ascended. His feet plow into the back of Lyle’s head, knocking him forward and sending his face crashing into the hard asphalt ground. Bits of rocks jump up into the air as Lyle falls, hitting the ground with a loud thud. "That's why I've thought this through."

Pulse immediately flips off his enemy’s head, landing flatly on his feet in front of the behemoth. Lyle rises slowly, quickly recovering from the attack. He growls in rage as he stares at Pulse, his teeth glistening in the dim fire light. Pulse stares at Lyle with his arms folded across his chest, smiling beneath his mask with a wide grin.

“Hurts doesn’t it?” Pulse asks with a small laugh.

“I’m going to pierce your organs with your bones, little man!” Lyle roars.

“You think you can kill me?” Pulse says, breaking his stance of leisure and changing to a fighting ready position. “First you’ll have to touch me.”

"Touch you?" Lyle asks as blood drips down from a single scratch over his eye. "I'll crush you!"

"Come on, then." Pulse says raising his hand, motioning to Lyle with his fingers. "I'm eager to see more of your blood spill out on the ground."

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Old 05-26-2008, 11:33 PM   #7
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The Wraith

Little Ulster.

A rotting neighborhood in the middle of a rotting city.

It shares it's name with the famous Irish province that used to be the battle ground of the IRA. This part of town is roughly 80% mick. They all walk around, dropping their r's, talking like they should be in beantown. Despite their ways, they're mostly good people who work hard and try to make a decent living..

"No!"

Like I said, they're mostly decent.

I race across the rooftops towards a nearby street. The shouts intensify as I slow down and sneak towards the rooftops ledge.

"Please. This is all I have!"

"Well, tough ****. Ya shoulda thought about that before ya didn't pay ya goddamn protection."

A gray haired Hindu man tries to block a red head from going into the front door of his store.

"No, this is my store. **** you!"

"Look, pal. You have a business in Little Ulster. This is Sullivan's property. Get the **** outta my way."

The red head reaches into his jacket. He moves quickly, as he pistol whips the Hindu man across the head, he falls to the ground and holds his head.

"Now, that you've ****ed with us. I'm gonna burn down this piece of **** store."

This is where I come in.

BLAM!

The red head stops in his tracks, he looks down at his shoulder and sees blood pouring out the bullet hole.

"The ****?"

"That."

I pop up beside the red head, one of my pistols drawn.

"Would be me."

CRACK!

I pistol whip him hard against the skull, he falls to the ground right next to the store owner.

"AHH! Goddammit! What the **** are you?"

"You don't have to worry about what I am. I'd worry more about what you are."

Using the small finger of my gloved right hand, I dig into the wound in his shoulder.

He cries out in pain as I dig deeper until my finger hits against the bullet.

"And, what you are, my friend. Is royally screwed. You, and your boss. Brandon Sullivan himself, the big mick prick in charge. Your time ruling Little Ulster as come to an end."

In between sobs, the red head tries to intimidate me.

"You're....****ing...dead!"

"No, actually. I'm already dead. By the way, you might want to bite down on something. This is going to hurt."

I quickly rip the bullet out of his shoulder, tears run free down his face.

"See, I told you so."

I place the bullet in my coat pocket and pull out a hankerchief, I start to clean the blood off my glove as I look over the fallen mobster.

"Now. I want you to do me a favor. When you see your buddies tomorrow. Don't lie and say you got jumped by a bunch of wops. Tell them a truth, a whacko in a costume made you his *****. And, if they keep on doing what they're doing in Little Ulster. They'll be my *****es too."

The redhead, with tears still running down his face and his back towards me, reaches for the gun in his coat pocket.

"**** you!"

He turns around, only to find that nobody is there. The only thing that remains is a note.

With Warmest Regards,


The Wraith
I watch from a ways off as he stumbles to pick up the note. He'll tell his buddies what happened, that's for sure. I roll up my mask and place a cigarette in my mouth. I light it up and watch as the red head stumbles off into the night.

It's a start.

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Old 05-27-2008, 04:00 PM   #8
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The light in the small apartment flickered on and off, briefly illuminating the gloom as if it was a silent flash of lightning.

"I must thank you, you know", spoke the man as he dipped his hands in the bowl containing red colored water.

Picking up a small hand towel next to the bowl, the man gently dried his hands.

"I had such a wonderful time."

The man's hands moved gracefully across the tabletop in front of where he stood in the dreary, run-down slum, passing over a series of knives and medical tools...all stained with blood and bits of flesh and hair.

"When I woke this morning, I had thought that today would be filled with nothing but tedium."

"But you certainly proved that wrong, didn't you Leon"
, the man smirked as he placed his tools inside a rolled out bag.

"No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I really must be going. I'm a very busy man after all. And I wouldn't want to keep my appointments waiting."

The man rolled up his tools and closed the bag. Putting the strap over his shoulder, the man turned and began to walk away. Stepping over a puddle of blood, the man came to a stop next to a person sitting in a chair.

Leon Carmody, a divorced father of two, worked the nightshift at the nearby hotel as security. He was usually very careful, but he did not notice the stranger following him home that morning.
Though the man was only a dozen meters behind him the whole time, Leon didn't notice him in the least. It was as though he was completely invisible to him, though that was not the case.
The man simply did not want Leon to notice him.
So he put the notion in Leon's mind to pay him no heed at all.

How unfortunate for Leon.

He had been dead for at least an hour now.
Naked and tied to a chair with barbed wire, Leon's wrists and ankles were a bloody and gruesome mess. Nonsensical symbols had been carved into his chest and back, and his eyes had been removed from his skull. His tongue had been sliced down the middle, now looking comically like the tongue of a serpent. And in his mouth rested a coin, a 1976 quarter that looked brand new.

"I had fun today, Leon", smiled the man as he patted Leon on the head as somebody would a dog.
"Don't worry though, we'll catch up later on."

"TTFN"
, chuckled the man as he reached for his dark purple bolero and trench coat, both which were resting on the coat rack, and put them on. Moving to the stereo system on the far wall of the room, the Man turned on the CD player and opened the drive. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a CD and placed it in the player. Pressing "play" and setting the player to "repeat", the man turned and walked away.

VIDEO-CLick to Watch!:


As the music began to play, the man stepped into the shadows of the corner of the room and vanished into the darkness...

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Old 05-27-2008, 05:21 PM   #9
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Blackness. That was all that the man, if he could be called a man, saw when he finally awoke. It seemed as if he had passed out from the pain for a few moments. And the agony hadn't really subsided much since. At first, the Survivor thought that his eyes were closed, and then that he might have been blinded, but then he remembered the feeling of his eyeballs melting in the flames that had consumed his body. If his regrowing intestines were in working condition, the Survivor might have vomited at the memory.

No skin! The thought suddenly blared to life as the man who had been using the alias of Adam Locke tried to roll over onto his side. Grinding his bare, skinless muscles and nerves along the street, even in such a small and simple movement as rolling over, caused him to let out another cry of pain. Adam merely thanked whatever God might be up there that his bones were still intact; he had once regrown an entire arm and it didn't feel a whole lot better than this. The healing is going slower. Even through the intense pain, the Survivor's calculating mind couldn't help but notice what he had started suspecting a number of months ago. With such intense trauma as this, my healing factor has to take its time. Rats**t.

After what seemed like forever, the Survivor could finally begin to feel fluid taking shape in his eye sockets, and in seconds he could start to see faint blurs moving about -- one small blur, and one very big blur. Pulse and Lyle!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Syn (Mercenary) View Post
“I’m going to pierce your organs with your bones, little man!” Lyle roars.

“You think you can kill me?” Pulse says, breaking his stance of leisure and changing to a fighting ready position. “First you’ll have to touch me.”

"Touch you?" Lyle asks as blood drips down from a single scratch over his eye. "I'll crush you!"

"Come on, then." Pulse says raising his hand, motioning to Lyle with his fingers. "I'm eager to see more of your blood spill out on the ground."
"First, you gotta make me bleed, Sporto!" chuckled Lyle with malice.

"He's got help."

At the sound of the raspy whisper coming from behind him, Lyle looked over his shoulder, but had already been caught unaware by the Survivor, muscle tissue exposed and skin slowly weaving itself back together. From behind, Adam wrapped his arms around Lyle's waist and lifted the yellow monster off of its feet, and hurled it back into the burning building. Knowing that Lyle would come charging back out within seconds, the Survivor took a number of staggering steps back, coming to Pulse's side. "The guy's a whole lot stronger than me, but I'm still more than capable of tossing around his weight." Seeing the expression on Eric's face while a man without eyelids spoke to him was enough for the Survivor to politely turn back and face the fire. Within a few more seconds his skin was finally back and the few shreds of fabric that remained on Adam from his costume began to grow larger. It would only be another moment before he would be fully clothed again.

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Old 05-27-2008, 05:56 PM   #10
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Default Re: The Create-A-Hero RPG Season II IC Thread

THE CITIZEN



Another new day in Lost Haven.

I can hear Katherine pulling the shower curtains back. We both woke up about five minutes ago, and I agreed to let her get ready first. For once in a long time, I'm in no hurry. I actually get to relax and enjoy my morning. As time goes on, you start to learn that it's the little things in life - like being able to sit down and have a cup of coffee - that bring you the most joy. It's just the way the world works, I suppose.

"So what are you going to do today?" Katherine asks as she turns the water on.

I roll over onto my back on the bed. "I'm meeting with Tom to discuss what's going to happen in the next week or so," I explain. Tom's my Public Relations adviser. He's been helping me through this whole election process. I suppose I owe a lot to him - even if he is a nervous wreck all the time.

As I hear Katherine step into the shower, I make my way over to the dresser. Reaching into my pant pockets, I remove my wallet and cell phone. But there's something else. Digging deep into the pocket, I remove the foreign object. I recognize it right away.

"Oh man," I mutter exasperatedly.

"What is it?" Katherine calls out from the bathroom.

I look over my shoulder at the bathroom door. "I can't believe I did this, but I accidentally put that Amulet thing in my pocket last night," I reply. I look back down at the object in my hands. I run my thumb lightly over the smooth, bone surface.

"You mean you still have it?" Katherine inquires nervously.

Just for kicks, I slide the necklace on. The Amulet dangles just above the collar of my undershirt. I examine myself in the mirror. As expected, I don't feel any different. I knew all that mythology crap was a bunch of bologna.

"Yeah," I sigh. I check my watch. "The museum doesn't even open for another hour, so I'll drop it off on my way to meet Tom. I bet that curator had a fit last night when he couldn't find this thing."

"You're lucky he didn't report you to the police!"

I frown. That's a good point. Theft would not look good for me this close to Election Day.

Katherine's tone softens as she asks, "So this is the big week, huh?"

I continue to look at myself in the mirror - as if I expect this Amulet to magically do something. I convince myself that nothing is going to happen. It's an old piece of jewelry. Well-crafted? Sure. Mystical? Hardly.

"Yep."

"Honey, don't worry about it. You're gonna do fine! People love you," Katherine insists. I wish I had her confidence. Then again, on the bright side, I know that I can't possibly be as tense as Tom. When this is all said and done, I'm taking that guy to a bar. He could use it.

"I guess," I respond half-heartedly. "Well, I'm going to go start a pot of coffee."

"Okay. I'll be out soon," Katherine promises.

As I turn to leave the room, I take one last glance at the mirror.

"Mystical abilities? People will believe anything these days..."

I slide the necklace off and place it gently on the dresser. The entire affair was anticlimactic, to say the least.

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Old 05-27-2008, 08:15 PM   #11
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Icon

"So, you think you're ready for the grand opening?" Eric asks me as I sit one of the many tables that now occupies my new club, "The Hub."

"Yeah, I think so. I'm alittle nervous, but things are coming along pretty well. We'll be ready."

"Waitaminute...you're nervous 'Mr. Fly around the world averting disaster wherever it might occur' superhero."

That's Eric for you, always one for overstatement. He's been that way ever since we were kids. But that's just the way he is. When we were kids we were best friends, in fact, he was the first person to find out about my abilities. He thought it was cool, and figured it would be a great way to get girls. Of course it didn't always work out that way. After high school, I came to Lost Haven for college, and Eric went on the road. He made some decent money in the entertainment business, and he was the first one I called when I had the idea of opening the club.

"Yeah, I guess so...this is all new to me. I'm just alittle nerv..."

I'm cut off mid sentence by the sound of the side entrance slamming shut. I get up to take a look at what is going on, when I see Lisa coming into the main floor area with a tray with three ice coffees on it from the donut place down the street.

"She likes you ya know" Eric says, once again stating the obvious.

"Shut up." I say, barely above a whisper.

"Dude,,,she's hot, go for it. If you don't I wil---oww!" He shrieks as I give him a little nudge with my elbow

"I said, shut up." I say, trying hard not to laugh.

"I leave you boys alone for five minutes...." She says as brings the ice coffee to us.

Yeah, I have a feeling everything is going to work out just fine.


Elsewhere...


Stinger stands in front of the safe triumphant, finally something has gone right in his life. For months he has been forced to sit back and watch his former friends go on to bigger and better things. Sure, things didn't work out so well for Tex, he was taken away by STRIKE and nobody has heard from him since, but look at Riot and Richter, those guys have really gone big time. And now it's his turn. It took him weeks to plan this heist, The Crystal Heart diamond. Being one of the largest diamonds in the world, it's worth millions. And now it belongs to him. A million things go through his mind, maybe he'll settle down, buy a house in Barbados...retire from this stuff.

"Forget a house, with this thing I can buy a whole island...I've always wanted my own...." he hears something behind him. Perhaps its just the wind.

"Island...?" he hears it again. Definitely not the wind, there is most certainly someone here with him.

"Hey, who's there? If you think I'm gonna let you take this thing, you've got another thing coming...Hey, wait, Don't--"

He was never able to finish the sentence...He was dead before he hit the floor.

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Old 05-27-2008, 10:12 PM   #12
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The Blue Blur

"You want me to sum up my day in one word?"

7 A.M. Wake up, eat hearty breakfast of 12 pieces of bacon, four scrambled eggs, six bowls of cereal, thirteen cups of coffee, and a glass of metamucil to keep me regular.

7:58 A.M. Kiss girlfriend goodbye, leave house.

7:59 A.M. Clock into work.

8-8:15 A.M. Let Doctor Brown do his daily check up on me, listen to Bruce and Johnny debate who would in in a fight, Batman or Dr. Doom.

8:16 A.M. Help Doctor Brown pull Johnny and Bruce apart as their debate has escalated to blows.

8:16 A.M.-11:59 A.M. Stop twelve muggings, a half dozen armed robberies, prevent ten different auto accidents, an apartment fire, and resolve a hostage situation.

Noon-1 P.M. Lunch with Mom. She has garden salad while I eat three steaks, six baked potatoes, and four salads.

1-2 P.M. Give anti-drug seminar to five different Chicago High Schools...at the same time!

2-2:15 P.M. Watch breaking news from CNN as mad bomber in Cali. threatens to detonate nuclear bomb if he doesn't get a hundred million dollars by five.

2:15-4:45 P.M. Patrol the country, stop giant dinosaur monster, team-up with bug-like superhero in Lost Haven, meet Sharkdude in Florida.

4:45-4:55 P.M. Race to Cali.

4:55-4:59 P.M. Find mad bomber, kick his ass royally. Drop him off at the nearest police station. Race back to Chi-town.

5 P.M. Clock out.

5-6:30 P.M. Wind down from the work day by playing poker with co-workers. Listen to Johnny and Bruce debate if Superman can beat Thor. Help Doctor Brown and Mr. Fry pry Bruce off of Johnny after he mentioned Superman Returns to Bruce.

6:30-7:30 P.M. Discuss wedding plans with girlfriend.

7:30-8:30 P.M. Eat a hearty dinner of sixteen burgers, fifty french fries, a gallon of cole slaw, and six milkshakes.

8:45-9:30 P.M. Sexy time with girlfriend! (Is nice!)

9:30-11 P.M. T.V. time, shower, and bed.

11 P.M.- 6:59 A.M. Sleep.

7 A.M. Wake up, and do it all over again.

"My day in one word?...Fast."

"When you're living life in the fast lane, you need to keep up with your schedule."


"Blackberry. The official PDA of the Blue Blur."

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Old 05-28-2008, 11:16 PM   #13
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The Wraith


"With costume heroes like Survivor and Mantis already in Lost Haven, could Little Ulster be the home of the newest crime fighter? Asian correspondent Trisha Takinawa has more."

"Diane, I'm standing here in front of the Hop-In convenience store here in Little Ulster. Where last night, store owner Hakim Nahasapeemapetilon watched as a masked man saved his store from robbery."

I crunch on a bowl of Chex and stare at the t.v. slack jawed as they talk about what went down last night.

"Mr. Nahas...whatever. In your own words, what did you see? And try to speak clearly, your accent is rather thick."

"This accent is Brooklyn, I am from Brooklyn! Anyway, I saw a man, or a ghost. He was all black, and his face was the color of blood. He called himself Wraith."

"And there you have it, Diane. It looks like the masked men in Lost Haven just got a new co-worker. Back to you, Diane."

"Thank you, Trisha. Coming up next, Is there a link between diet soda and impotency? Our medical correspondent has the answer..."

I swallow the last bit of my cereal and turn off the T.V. I'd love to bask in the glow of it all day, but I have some work to do.

I light up a fresh Camel and walk towards my typewriter. I think I might try my hand at writing greeting cards....


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

It's about three in the afternoon when I get out of the apartment to see the sights of Little Ulster. If I'm going to be this place's savior at night, I need to see how it is during the day.

Taxi cabs honk at each other on the dilapidated streets as I walk down the sidewalk, a Camel in my mouth as I go. Up ahead, there's a news stand with a small group of people mingling around it.

"So, I was telling Jeanie. I was telling her." The fat man behind the news stand tells the people. He's got a white shirt with sweat stains on it.

"I told her, 'Baby, I seen sumpin' in the darkness. It weren't human at all."

I smile as I get closer. They're talking about me.

"It was like that arab down the corner said. Body was black as night, face was as red as blood. It was a goddamn ghost."

"Excuse me."

I break into the group, a dollar bill in my hand.

"Can I get a copy of the Herald?"

I hand him my dollar and he hands me today's copy of the Haven Herald.

"Hey, Mama. What's going on, baby? Fries come with that shake?!"

A man down the street catches everyone's attention. He's tall and lanky, with a sunken in face and thin, black hair.

"Who is that?" I ask the man behind the news stand as I put out my old cigarette.

"That's goddamn Arty Eisner. He's dope pusher. Only nickel and dime crap. He's small time at best, he'll get on your nerves before he can sell you ****. Claims he's connected with all the major crime families in Haven. Zano, the Sullivan's, all of 'em. He's mostly full of crap."

I only nod as I keep on staring at the pusher down the street.

I know for certain I'll be paying Arty Eisner a visit once it gets good and dark in Little Ulster.



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Old 05-29-2008, 03:33 PM   #14
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Little Ulster, Lost Haven

VIDEO-CLick to Watch!:


The Ice Cream truck slowly drove down the avenue, it's siren song attracting a growing number of children following behind it.

The truck didn't stop though, it just kept on driving. After another minute of working around the block, the truck finally pulled over at the side of a small park.
There were a few kids out playing on the basketball court that started walking up, and the children that followed behind ran up as the side window opened.

"Calm down now, little ones", smiled the man in a bolero.
"I've got plenty of cones for everyone."

"How much are they", asked a little girl.

"What flavors you got", asked a pudgy boy.

"I have any flavor your heart desires", grinned the man.
"And each cone is only a dollar."

'I'll take chocolate!"

"Give me strawberry!"

"You got Rocky Road?"

And on it went as two dozen kids lined up and each got a cone. As the crowd dispersed, walking off enjoying their treat, the man leaned out the window.
He watched them all go about their business, momentarily happy in their meaningless little lives.
It was funny how something so simple can take your cares away, if only for a moment.
The man began to chuckle as one of the kids stopped and swayed.

"I...I don't feel so good", moaned the young boy as he lurched.
His cone fell from his hand, splatting against the ground. And an instant after, the boy joined his treat.
The child began to convulse a bit as foam began to bubble out of his mouth, but he soon stopped.
A scream rang out, and another as more kids began to pass out and go into convulsions as well.
But soon silence reigned once again as all two dozen of the children lay dead, their sweet treats melting beside them.

The man inhaled deeply from his nose and closed his eyes.

"Ahhh...smells like the grave."

The man's head jerked as he stared towards the back of the inside of the truck.
"Stop your whining, Marcus. There's nothing you could've done."

"Besides, it's your turn to drive", continues the man as he walks to the back and hoists up a limp body over his shoulder.

"And I don't", smiles the man as he drops the body into the driver's seat, "want you driving angry."

A small steel rod stuck out of Marcus the Ice Cream Man's throat. His shirt was unbuttoned and opened, showing off his chest which was adorned with strange carvings.
Both of his eyes were missing, and in there place were two peanut M&Ms.

"See you later, Marcus", smirked the man with a nod of his hat.
The man walked to side window and took in the scene one final time. He took another deep breath and smiled.

"Delicious."

Slowly the man closed the side window. And once darkness returned to the inside of the truck he vanished in the shadows.

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Old 05-29-2008, 11:27 PM   #15
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Spike_x1 View Post
Blackness. That was all that the man, if he could be called a man, saw when he finally awoke. It seemed as if he had passed out from the pain for a few moments. And the agony hadn't really subsided much since. At first, the Survivor thought that his eyes were closed, and then that he might have been blinded, but then he remembered the feeling of his eyeballs melting in the flames that had consumed his body. If his regrowing intestines were in working condition, the Survivor might have vomited at the memory.

No skin! The thought suddenly blared to life as the man who had been using the alias of Adam Locke tried to roll over onto his side. Grinding his bare, skinless muscles and nerves along the street, even in such a small and simple movement as rolling over, caused him to let out another cry of pain. Adam merely thanked whatever God might be up there that his bones were still intact; he had once regrown an entire arm and it didn't feel a whole lot better than this. The healing is going slower. Even through the intense pain, the Survivor's calculating mind couldn't help but notice what he had started suspecting a number of months ago. With such intense trauma as this, my healing factor has to take its time. Rats**t.

After what seemed like forever, the Survivor could finally begin to feel fluid taking shape in his eye sockets, and in seconds he could start to see faint blurs moving about -- one small blur, and one very big blur. Pulse and Lyle!"First, you gotta make me bleed, Sporto!" chuckled Lyle with malice.

"He's got help."

At the sound of the raspy whisper coming from behind him, Lyle looked over his shoulder, but had already been caught unaware by the Survivor, muscle tissue exposed and skin slowly weaving itself back together. From behind, Adam wrapped his arms around Lyle's waist and lifted the yellow monster off of its feet, and hurled it back into the burning building. Knowing that Lyle would come charging back out within seconds, the Survivor took a number of staggering steps back, coming to Pulse's side. "The guy's a whole lot stronger than me, but I'm still more than capable of tossing around his weight." Seeing the expression on Eric's face while a man without eyelids spoke to him was enough for the Survivor to politely turn back and face the fire. Within a few more seconds his skin was finally back and the few shreds of fabric that remained on Adam from his costume began to grow larger. It would only be another moment before he would be fully clothed again.

One Month Ago

Pulse stares at the Survivor in shock. In only moments, he had witnessed the man's death, ressurection, and regeneration. Pulse 's mind quickly became filled with questions, noticing the strength and power of the hero, even when damaged. This guy just lifted a three hundred or so pound man, Pulse thinks. And on top of that, he did it while injured, healing from wounds any normal man would have died from. This guy's definently a powerful force. Might want to be wary.

Pulse walks up to Adam, watching the suit on his body slowly form back, just as his skin did moments before. Pulse lets out a sigh, taking a quick moment to relax as he stares at his ally.

"You can regenerate?" Pulse asks with a unbelieving smile. "Would have been nice to know. I would have factored it into my plan."

Pulse stares into the burning building, watching for a figure to appear. He clenches his hands, tightening them into fists. His smile soon fades, replaced with an angry sneer.

"So," he starts, cracking his fingers. "I'm going to guess the fire won't kill this freak. How do you propose we kill him?"

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Old 05-30-2008, 01:22 PM   #16
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Mysterious Vigilante Claims 6th Victim

The headline reaches out and slaps me across the face. As I begin reading the article from the Lost Haven Globe I begin to feel a slight sense of uneasiness. However, by the time I finish the article, I begin to feel ill.

Somewhere in this city, there is a vigilante who isn't satisfied with stopping criminals in their tracks, he kills them. But it isn't the fact that he kills them that gets to me, it's HOW he does it.

He brutalizes them, beats them within an inch of their lives, and then burns them alive. And it seems that some people in this city applaud him. Like this columnist Michael Anders. He not only supports this guy's actions, he actually sits there and urges more people to take the law into their own hands and do the things that this maniac does.

In just under a month, this vigilante who seems to go by the name Retribution has killed 6 criminals. One a rapist, another a murderer, two muggers, a carjacker and a thief. The latest being someone that I knew, someone that I put in jail acouple of times myself, a character named Stinger. I can almost understand the first few victims...They committed heinous crimes, and I could see how someone might go alittle overboard...but Stinger was mostly harmless. Granted, at one point he followed Riot and Richter, but he was almost like the equipment manager who hung out with the star of the football team because he thought it might make him cooler. Stinger was a nobody....and this guy cut his head nearly clean off, then torched the entire building.

And some people think this is a good thing? Some people think that this is the way that things should operate?

"Not in my city."

And with that, I go to my window and take flight. I am going to find this "Retribution" character and put an end to this before anyone else gets killed.

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Old 06-01-2008, 10:14 AM   #17
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BLAZE / shayde

I don't know if I can make it. I'm trying as hard as I can. The wind is slamming into my face. It hurts. But I'm trying as hard as I can. I don't know if I can make it.
Please. I have to make it. I can almost hear his voice. He's laughing at me. He doesn't think I'll make it. I have to.

I'm in the air, my body surfing through the wind as fast as I can muster. My cape is flapping wildly behind me, my hands outstretched. I'm so close I can hear her scream. A woman fell off the top of a skyscraper. Plummeting down, her hands are flailing about as she sporadically mixes her screams with prayers.

Almost there. Come on...faster...faster...do it...

My heart is racing like crazy when I feel her weight sink into my arms. Her body goes limp as I grab her tight and promise her I won't let go. I've got her. I did it.

I'm a hero again.

Slowly, careful not to scare her, I bring us down to the ground. I feel my feet touch concrete, and I carefully place her on her feet. Helping her down, she immediately sits and begins crying hysterically.

"You'll be okay, ma'am. It's okay. It's over. You're safe, now." I assure her, but she keeps crying. Pointing upwards, to the roof, she begins muttering.

"He...he...he...pp...pppp....pushed me...oh God.." she calls out, hear breathing frantic and hurried.

I waste no time.

I'm airborne the second I realize what she's just said, rushing up to the roof of the building. It takes me 20 seconds before I'm up to the top of the 40-story building.

"WHO THE **** ARE YOU!??!" a man dressed in a business suit shouts at me.

He turns to run, heading straight for the door leading back down to the stairs. Raising my hand, I feel the heat course through me as a blast of red energy shoots from my fingertips and slams into his legs. The man looses his footing and crashes down onto his face.

"I am Blaze. I am a hero. I am a hero." I smile, before I grab him by the hand.

Another minute, as I am careful not to drop the would-be murderer who is flailing like a madman, and we are down on the ground. The police have arrived, and an officer is helping the victim to an ambulance. The poor woman begins to loudly sob when she sees the enraged man who tries to kill her.

"I'LL FIND YOU, *****! I'LL FIND YOU AND I'LL KILL YOU!" he screams. I turn him around, and a very small blast of hot energy surges from my finger to his face. He is immediately knocked out cold.
Letting him fall to the ground, his body crumpling as his head hits the concrete, I nod to the two police officers approaching me.

"I am Blaze. I am a hero. I am a good guy." I tell them, before I take to the air.

------

"I saved a woman, Shayde." I speak into the recorder. " She was falling from a building. I could hear you telling me I couldn't make it. But I did make it. I grabbed her and saved her life. I thought it was an accident, but a man pushed her. Tried to kill her. I got him, too. I am a hero, Shayde. I am a hero." I say with immense pride, a soft smile appearing on my face, as I stop the recording and return the device to the small pouch on my belt.

I am Blaze. I am a hero.



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Old 06-01-2008, 07:47 PM   #18
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THE CITIZEN

The rest of the morning was as normal as could be. Katherine and I shared a pot of coffee while discussing the election, the upcoming art show at the gallery where she worked, and current events in general. I read the Currents, Sports, and Business sections of the newspaper during my last cup of black coffee. Katherine never could understand why I preferred my coffee black. After that, I took a quick shower and put on a nice suit. I retrieved the Amulet from the dresser, and I was on my way.

So here I am, walking down the streets of Lost Haven. God, I always hated that name. Why did it have to be 'LOST' Haven? It's a depressing name for a city. If I could, I'd petition to get them to rename it. Lose the 'Lost,' or replace it with 'New' or something. Try to be a little creative. Of course, I'm a politician who deals with hope and change - so, of course, I'd hate the name.

As I turn the corner, the museum is in view. I can only hope that curator isn't too upset about all this. I mean, it was a mistake. Besides, he didn't seem like the kind of guy to get flustered or anything. I think that as long as he gets his Amulet back, he'll be happy. Even if it did give the wearer 'mystical abilities,' I'm not sure I'd keep it. I'm not the 'mystical abilities' type. What would I do with such abilities, anyway?

I chuckle to myself. Listen to me getting carried away again!

Suddenly, my phone rings. I place the Bluetooth headset into my ear and press the button. "David McDonald."

"Dave? It's Tom. Where are you?" Tom asks nervously. See what I mean? This guy is always tense. I mean, I don't completely blame him. Between being my PR adviser and my campaign manager, he's had a lot on his hands recently. Even so, there's no reason to get out of whack because I'm running a few minutes late for brunch.

"I'm running a quick errand, Tom. It won't be long," I promise.

"It better not be!" Tom insists anxiously. "We're on a tight schedule here! Do you not realize what week it is?"

I laugh. I don't mean to laugh at Tom's anxiousness, but I'm a light-hearted guy, and I find this entertaining. If I wasn't so afraid that Tom was going to give himself a stroke, I'd be tickled pink by his behavior. "I'll see you soon," I respond, dismissing his accusation. Rather than let Tom protest, I click off my Bluetooth and return it to my coat pocket. Tom will vent for a few moments, but he'll be fine.

I walk up the steps leading to the museum. This is no Philadelphia Museum of Art, and I'm no Rocky Balboa, but I can't help but picture the scene from that movie every time I go up a flight of stairs. It's the kid in me, I suppose.

When I reach the top of the steps - rather than throwing my arms up in celebration - I see something strange. The museum doors appear to be closed. That's unusual. I was sure that the museum keeps the same hours every day. Maybe they just closed them to keep the air conditioning on? I approach the doors and pull, but they don't budge.

Strange.

I press my face to the glass and peer into the museum. It appears to be empty. I mean, completely empty. No people, no artwork, nothing. I think the curator would have mentioned something if the museum was closing for good. Did that robber come back and finish the job? God, I'd hate to think that!

"Hello?" I call out as I tap on the glass. I get no answer - but I can't say I'm surprised. It doesn't look like anyone's been here in hours. They cleaned out and just went away. But would the curator close the museum if he knew his precious Amulet was out there somewhere? None of this makes sense.

I'll have to try again later. Tom will freak if I waste any more time.

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Old 06-06-2008, 09:43 PM   #19
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One Month Ago

Pulse stares at the Survivor in shock. In only moments, he had witnessed the man's death, ressurection, and regeneration. Pulse 's mind quickly became filled with questions, noticing the strength and power of the hero, even when damaged. This guy just lifted a three hundred or so pound man, Pulse thinks. And on top of that, he did it while injured, healing from wounds any normal man would have died from. This guy's definently a powerful force. Might want to be wary.

Pulse walks up to Adam, watching the suit on his body slowly form back, just as his skin did moments before. Pulse lets out a sigh, taking a quick moment to relax as he stares at his ally.

"You can regenerate?" Pulse asks with a unbelieving smile. "Would have been nice to know. I would have factored it into my plan."

Pulse stares into the burning building, watching for a figure to appear. He clenches his hands, tightening them into fists. His smile soon fades, replaced with an angry sneer.

"So," he starts, cracking his fingers. "I'm going to guess the fire won't kill this freak. How do you propose we kill him?"
"We're not killing Lyle." said the Survivor sternly. Even if he were a killer, Adam wasn't sure if Lyle could even be killed. The words had barely been uttered when the two heroes heard a loud but raspy laughter coming from within the burning skeleton of a building. In their last encounter, Survivor had barely escaped, only by resorting to dropping an entire high rise construction site on the yellow monster. And now here Lyle was, grinning and walking out of the fire, without a scratch on him; alive and well. In fact, it occurred to Adam that he had never seen Lyle suffer any injury. He had blasted energy at the yellow freak a number of times during their last fight without seeing Lyle receive any burns; Adam had slammed a steel girder into Lyle's jaw without drawing any blood; and had essentially thrown a construction site and a burning building at the villain.

"He's invulnerable." The statement was as much a sudden realization for the Survivor as it was an effort to inform Pulse. "I don't think we can even hurt him, much less kill him." For a moment, Survivor briefly considered telling Pulse that he didn't even know how strong Lyle was; just that he was much, much stronger than Adam himself. "But..." Taking a fighting stance, the Survivor's fists powered up with swirling orange and yellow energy.



"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

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Old 06-11-2008, 04:56 PM   #20
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It had been some time since he first saw Leevoth in St. Petersburg. He had the man in line with his blade, but the bastard got away. He had battled Leevoth's pet elemental alongside the hero, Sharkman.
Immediately though, he had set off on hunt for Leevoth once more.

He had been following Leevoth's trail for months now, slowly making their way North.

And now Kensei stood on a busy street in the city of Chicago. Leevoth was here, somewhere. Now he just had to figure out what he was after.

Kensei made his way down the street towards a nearby hotel.
Once he got settled he would begin searching for answers.

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Old 06-14-2008, 02:29 AM   #21
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Hello all. In case you don't know, this is the continuation of a story. A story about a hero that has faced many perils. A story about a young man who numerous times rose up to the challenges set before him. A story about.... me. My name is Jon Small, but you can call me Blacklight, and I'm here to save the world. And without further ado, welcome to Season 2 of my story.


Chapter 37: Nightmares Act I: The Descent, pt.2...

Quote:
"Class? Where's Jonathan?"

And by that time, I was already gone to the bathroom, sheding my clothes to reveal my costume, and hiding my backpack in a stall before flying out the window, up and around to the roof of the building, lowering down through the hole Murderball made upon impact.

"Sorry to crash the party like this..." I said as I hit him with a killer right hook that sent him reeling back.

"...but you're no longer invited."

"You. I was wondering when you'd come."

"Well wonder no more...Blacklight's here." I said as I punched him again and my classmates cheered.
It had took a few moments for Murderball to regain his momentum and focus after that punch, and I was already two steps ahead of him. Prepared for his next move.

"Argh! You'll pay for that, kid!" He said as he began to dive to the floor in a rolling somersault as his suit began to excrete the bouncy metal alloy that took shape of a ball. It rolled at me fast, but I had elevated myself and hovered above it to watch it roll under me, and through the wall, leaving a gaping hole leading outside.

Before I could follow, the sounds of my classmates clapping there hands and rooting for me reminded me of how much of an icon I became since becoming Blacklight...

"You can do it, BL!" my best friend and gadgets supplier Nick Romano yelled out to me.

Then my eyes turned to her...Kristi. The girl of my dreams. She was also cheering me on, and she even winked, mouthing 'I believe in you' to me. I felt my cheeks heat up as they blushed, but then I refocused my attenton to Hurtz, and flew outside through the makeshift door he made.

C'mon...Where are you? I thought as I scanned the area from above. I mean, how hard could it be to find a giant black pinball? Which a few seconds later, I found out was easier than I thought when he crashed into my back. It was one hell of a hit. Not only did I get the s**t knocked out of me, but he used the gravity to send me crashing down from the air into the ground under us, leaving a me-shaped crater as he bounced away, leaving my head buried in the dirt. I had used all my strength to get back up as quick as possible, spitting out the dirt.

"Had enough yet?" The robotic sounding voice of Murderball echoing from the shell asked me.

"Puh-lease..." I said standing back up and smiling at him, pulling out and extending my diamond staff in a fighting pose.

"I'm just getting started."


Boy are we in for one hell of a season...

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Old 06-15-2008, 12:53 AM   #22
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THE CITIZEN



"You have a sick mind!" Tom proclaims as he sees me approaching. He's sitting nervously at a table outside this little cafe we both know. He has a cup of coffee in front of him, which I imagine has been refilled multiple times. Maybe the caffeine is what tweaks his nerves. "What are you thinking? Giving me a heart attack like that! In the last week, no less!"

"Coffee?" I ask the waitress behind him politely. She nods, and I take a seat. Moments later, she appears over my shoulder, pouring a cup of coffee. "Thank you."

Tom looks like his eyeballs might pop out of his head like corks on a champagne bottle. "Are you even listening to me?!"

I nod absently while sipping the hot coffee. "Yeah, of course. Last week. Pretty exciting," I respond emotionlessly. Sometimes I do it just to watch Tom squirm. It's a twisted, little game, I will admit. But if you're in my shoes, it's funny as anything to watch.

Tom slaps his forehead and mumbles something. He remains motionless for a second until he points at my neck. "What the Hell is that?" he asks cautiously.
I look down. I must have slipped the Amulet back on without even realizing. As I tuck it into my shirt, I lie, "It's a campaign contribution of sorts." To tell the truth would take too much time, and - frankly - put Tom into cardiac arrest. If he finds out that I played hero and risked my safety this late in the game, I think that pulsating vein on his head may finally pop. At the campaign headquarters, we have an ongoing betting pool to see when that thing'll go. It's really more of a matter of when than if.

"Don't be getting superstitious on me now," he orders. For some reason, when he tells me to do something, I feel rebelliously compelled to do the exact opposite. Even so, I bite my tongue. Tom sits back in his chair. "We're doing damn good."

I laugh. "If that's so, then why are you acting like the Apocalypse is coming?" I ask.

He points a finger threateningly. Well, as threateningly as he can be, anyway. "Because! Plenty of candidates have done damn well and lost it in the end - usually for doing something stupid! Popular vote, schmopular vote - we never had a President Gore!"

I try to repress the laughter. His comparison is terrible, and I don't quite get what he's trying to drive at. Okay, I get the central idea: don't get involved in a scandal, don't get killed. That's simple. But we're in the last week. What could possibly happen this week that will change the face of the campaign? The deal is more or less sealed.

I raise a hand to get the attention of a waitress. When she's listening fully, I explain, "My friend here will have a slice of apple pie a la mode, and I think this should cover the bill." I slip enough money in her hand to pay for Tom's coffees, my coffee, and the pie. While my wallet's still out, I slap some money down on the table to cover the tip. I'm a little generous to make up for the hassle that Tom undoubtedly caused while he was waiting for me.

"It's been a pleasure as always, Tom. Take care of yourself," I state as I wink and pat Tom on the shoulder. As I'm walking away, I hear him calling back to me.

"Remember what I said!"

I just shake my head. There's nothing at all to worry about. As I'm walking, I feel a strange object pressing into my chest. I pull out the Amulet again. I can't believe I forgot I had it - again. I'm going to have to keep an eye on that. If I'm not careful, I may keep this thing forever. And while it's quite patriotic, it's an eyesore, really.

"Mystical abilities," I repeat to myself again. I still can't get over that. I've been wearing this thing all afternoon. Nothing unusual has happened at all.

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Old 06-15-2008, 03:39 AM   #23
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"I saved a woman, Shayde." I speak into the recorder. " She was falling from a building. I could hear you telling me I couldn't make it. But I did make it. I grabbed her and saved her life. I thought it was an accident, but a man pushed her. Tried to kill her. I got him, too. I am a hero, Shayde. I am a hero." I say with immense pride, a soft smile appearing on my face, as I stop the recording and return the device to the small pouch on my belt.



I am Blaze. I am a hero.
What is a hero? In Greek religion, a hero was a person that was worshipped as quasi-divine, after his death. The hero may be a great man, or in this age of equal opportunity a woman, real or imaginary ancestors or even faded gods. Faded gods...gods that for some reason or another have been demoted to the status of humans. That is the part of the Greek hero equation that always intruiges me. Gods who have become men. They didn't celebrate any regular person, but a person with powers. Because that's what it comes down to in the end. Say the Greeks did have heroes, with powers. Would it not be easier for them to accept this fact if they said that they were gods on earth. The Greeks were truly centuries ahead of their time. Ahead of our time. For they accepted the fact, in however way they did it.

Now-a-days it's much different. A hero could be a protaganist in a love story, or the lead character of a romantic comedy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. What was once a noble proffession full of gods and wisemen now reduced to the likes of a fat woman called Bridget Jones. Surely it must sicken the mind to think of a great tradition dragged through the mud. And then there is the rise of the anti-hero. Much more interesting than the boring goody-two-shoes that is the regular hero, the anti-hero is either a psycotic murderer who happens to work for the right side, or the jerk with the heart of gold. Personally I prefer the murderer - at least he is clear about his intentions.

But in the long run, the anti-hero is not needed. The character with the slight tint of darkness. Because the hero has that tint too, just deeper and well hidden. What hero can honestly say that he has never, ever, been tempted by the dark thing that crawls in the back of his head. Very few, for sure. Interestingly, sometimes that flaw is brought into real life. The villain. Often a reflection of the hero's wants and desires, the villain is the foil to the heroes strengths. Wouldn't it be dull if the hero just saves villagers from natural disasters? No, they need a villain, a monster of evil to guide them.

I pride myself on being that monster. It isn't like I'm inarticulate, read through what I have just said and say that. But I am a monster. I enjoy the suffering of the innocent, and most definately I enjoy the suffering of my hero. Of Blaze, as he has so dubbed himself. Before a few months ago, I was a shadow in the back of my host's mind with a lack of phsyical manifestation. But the treatment we, and I do not use that pronoun lightly, recieved gave us powers. For me, the best of these was the power to live, to walk around. I had no name. Blaze...the fire...the flame...the light...and I am his counter. The dark...the blackness...the shadow...Shayde. Thus I named myself, and this he knows.

"So you have saved a woman, Blaze? I must say, I am impressed. But anything you can do, I can do better. There is a warehouse, somewhere in this city. In that warehouse, you will find the mutilated corpses of eight young girls. You save one, I kill eight. Your choice. Sleep well, brother," I hiss into the recorder.

I am Shayde. And I am the villain.

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**** went down.

It may or may not have also 'got real'.
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Old 06-19-2008, 01:20 AM   #24
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"We're not killing Lyle." said the Survivor sternly. Even if he were a killer, Adam wasn't sure if Lyle could even be killed. The words had barely been uttered when the two heroes heard a loud but raspy laughter coming from within the burning skeleton of a building. In their last encounter, Survivor had barely escaped, only by resorting to dropping an entire high rise construction site on the yellow monster. And now here Lyle was, grinning and walking out of the fire, without a scratch on him; alive and well. In fact, it occurred to Adam that he had never seen Lyle suffer any injury. He had blasted energy at the yellow freak a number of times during their last fight without seeing Lyle receive any burns; Adam had slammed a steel girder into Lyle's jaw without drawing any blood; and had essentially thrown a construction site and a burning building at the villain.

"He's invulnerable." The statement was as much a sudden realization for the Survivor as it was an effort to inform Pulse. "I don't think we can even hurt him, much less kill him." For a moment, Survivor briefly considered telling Pulse that he didn't even know how strong Lyle was; just that he was much, much stronger than Adam himself. "But..." Taking a fighting stance, the Survivor's fists powered up with swirling orange and yellow energy.




"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."


"Let me tell you something, Survivor." Pulse says, walking over to the dead body of Quickfire. He leans down and pushes the body over, revealing the front of the man. Pulse grabs the knife in his throat and violently jerks it from his neck. He holds up the blood soaked knife and sneers beneath his mask. "Everything can die."

Pulse runs toward Lyle at full speed, bring back his arm, preparing his attack. As Pulse rapidly approaches the yellow giant, Lyle laughs in a deep mocking voice.

"You think you're going to hurt me?" Lyle scoffs.

"No!" Pulse yells back, sending a shockwave from his feet and propelling him in a quick jump over Lyle's head. "I think I'm going to kill you!"

Pulse drops down to the broken asphalt hard, hitting the rubble without a protective shockwave. As Lyle turns, Pulse throws the knife in his hand. He sends a shockwave behind it, propelling it like a bullet through the air. With great accuracy and tact, the knife hits Lyle's eye with incredible force. The metal blade snaps on Lyle's retina, breaking into two halves. Despite th knife's structural failure, it still causes Lyle great pain. He roars in rage, feeling a pain he has never felt before.

"Gotcha."

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Phillies 2012

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Old 06-21-2008, 12:25 AM   #25
Blacklight
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Join Date: May 2007
Location: East City
Posts: 6,776
Default Re: The Create-A-Hero RPG Season II IC Thread



Hey there! Whoa...so this is what it's like to be a narrator. Cool. Anyways...Hi. My name's Shawn, and even though my friend Jon would probably tell you to call him Blacklight, that ain't my thing. So you can just all me Shawn. You could call me Ghost Kid if you want, but most of the people that do usually are getting an a**-kicking courtesy of me, so keep that in mind. And unlike Jon, I'm pretty much new to this 'superhero' thing. But hey, at least I'm willing to give it a shot. Well...at least giving it more of a shot that schoolwork and 'behaving'. Jeez...people have no sense of humor these days. Most of all, teachers. They can be so uptight sometimes. Especially when you put an angry wild pigeon in their desk drawer with the pens...

"SHAWN VIOLETTE! To the principal's office! NNNOW!!!"

"Aww man..."

But hey, what can you do? You ask why I get in trouble at school all the time? Because everyone's got a niche. Mine? The troublemaker. That's me. Always in trouble for something, whether I didn't do it or I did, most of the time the latter. Whether it be detention or suspension, in-school or out, or damn near borderline expulsion, I'm always in trouble for something. So much that the principal's office seems like a second home to me...

"I'll see you in detention afterschool, Mr. Violette. And if I don't, you can expect a suspension from the school. Is that clear?"

Everybody's got a niche. Mr. Brown's is "a**hole".

"Yes, Principal Brown....ugh."

* * *

Yep. Troublemaker is my niche. Ghost Kid's however...

"C'mon let's go!"

"I don't think that's a good idea..." I said phasing up through the ground in front of the bank robbers.

"Get out of our way, hero!"

Hero...boy do I like the sound of that.

"Sorry. If I did, I'd kinda lose my hero discount at Costumes-R-Us..."

"Get 'em!"

Some just never learn...

When the three of them had pulled out their guns, I immediately went intangible so their bullets went straight through me. The first guy saw me come near and tried to attack, but I had used my ghostly strength to lift him up and over me into a nearby dumpster.

"Ooh...might need some tomato juice to get that smell out..."

"RRRAAARRGHH!!"

One of the other two guys had started to charge at me, but before he could reach I had easily blasted him with some ecto-energy to send him flying really really far away.

"Wow. Looks like he's learning a little lesson in astronomy..."

I looked at the third guy who started shaking.

"You want a piece?"

Then he dropped his gun and money ran away screaming until he tripped and fell.

Then I took to the sky, making sure to wave at the cops, even though I'm pretty sure one of them arrested me once for that one incident at school with the panda...I won't go into details about that...

"They're all yours, fellas..."

Yep. Everyone's got a niche. Shawn Violette's niche is troublemaker, and Ghost Kid's...is superhero.

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