Welcome
It all started when a crystal dropped into existence, punched a hole in time and space and landed into the lap of one the most insane men to ever walk the Earth.
At first, the clown didn't know what he had been gifted with, stuck in his cell in Arkham, staring at the reddish purple crystal laying innocently on the dirty stone floor.
And then the voices started, telling him of another universe, talking of power and chaos beyond what he could have ever dreamed.
census
Heroes
Villains
SHIELD
Avengers
Justice League
X-Men
Brotherhood
Mutants
Anti-Heroes
Civilians
Neutral
Total
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00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
000 ♂
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00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
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00 ♀
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000 ♀
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LET THEM KNOW WE
WONT BACK DOWN
a marvel/dc roleplay
And There Will Be Bloodshed (OPEN)
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Post by Vincent Westpoint on Feb 5, 2013 3:28:41 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][style=width:460px; height:310px; background:000000 url('http://i1091.photobucket.com/albums/i394/SaltierCracker96/backgrounds/153.jpg'); padding:15; border:5px solid; border-color:e62e00][style=width:230px; height:310px; float:right] [style=margin-bottom:5px]Vincent flicked the burn off the end of his cigarette and sighed softly, spouting smoke into the dark, rainy night. Here he was, seven stories up in the air, sitting on the very edge of an apartment building, half suspended in the void. It was quite a percarious position, actually. If he made even one movement to his left, he would surely fall to his death, and that would be the end of him (that is, unless he could shift before he hit the ground). There would be no way to save himself. That wasn't the biggest thing on his mind right now, though. Actually, he didn't care, and nothing was on his mind. He loved the wind through his hair, the peaceful quiet of the night from up here, the honk of the cars flashing by beside him, the splatter of the warm rain on his face.
Humans. They went on like nothing was wrong, despite the fact that only a few short months ago they had been switched with another universe, and every one of their lives changed dramatically. Cabbies still honked frantically trying to prevent their customers from giving them late pay; pedestrians toted around umbrellas in order to be ready for any eventuality. Only the heroes, villains, and a few select other people could remember what it used to be like- the old world. There were some places that were unchanged, however, like Gotham and Metropolis, and in a way that fact alone gave Vince a little comfort. He had decided to venture out of his comfort zone tonight, and was in a little place somewhere called 'Los Angeles'. He had heard somewhere that it meant 'City of Angels', and he believed it. Oddly, the one night he came turned out to be the best, because it was the eve of one of the only thunderstorms they get every year. The pouring rain cloaked his scent quite well. Leaning his head back onto the nothing above the short chimney he was resting against, Vince settled it there and then snapped it forward. His spine cracked quite loudly, only another reminder that while Vincent himself wasn't getting any older, his bones could only handle the strain forever if he gave his marrow no need to replace his blood. The time had been long overdue for weeks, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. It was time for a hunt. Calmly, Vincent stood, and backed away from the light into the darkness. He only took enough time to stick the rest of his pack of camels into his pocket before the transformation began. First, the werewolf-like-stage and then barely seconds later the full thing. Before one could say, 'jeezus', the man was now a scary looking, gigantic-tusked wolf-tiger-baboon-great dane-creature. There was no compare to this feeling, Vince thought as he stepped onto the edge again. It felt good to finally be free once more. His fangs glinted in the moonlight, and he let out a roar that caused several people on the street below to look up and scream in terror. The chupacabra was back. Pray there was a criminal around somewhere so that a civilian wouldn't have to die. Tags: OPEN Words: 532 Notes: Had this weird, random urge to make a new open thread... If anyone really cares, it's a bit of a recycled starting post. [/style][/style] |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2013 17:39:14 GMT -5
----------------------------------- outfitLos Angeles. The city that also never slept. Frank Castle was caught in traffic, because of the construction that was occuring. The loud bulldozers and tractors continued on the road work as people started to become impatient. Taxi-cabs sounded their horns constantly as the traffic jam started to pile up. "GET YOUR ASSES MOVING COME ON!" yelled the man behind him. Frank disregarded the obnoxious man that continued to lay on his horn behind him. The piercing sound of the man's horn, made the Punisher want to get out and dismantle his car piece by piece. He gritted his teeth at the man's yells and honks, watching the baboon through the rear-view mirror of his blue 1975 Ford Mustang. Frank hated being outside of New York, but this bounty would've been worth thousands, an offer Frank Castle couldn't refuse.
With the man's beeping of his horn growing more frequently, Frank pushed open his car door and pulled out his black tomahawk, from his backpack. The raindrops trickled upon his face as he walked to the hood of the man's car and began swinging at it with all his might. "HEY HEY WHAT HELL ARE YOU DOING!" The man sprung out from his car and tackled the Punisher to the ground. Before a fist could be brought down to his face, a loud inhuman like scream blared throughout the streets. He looked up to sky to try and find where the source of the sound had come from, but couldn't see a thing because of the darkness. The Punisher jabbed the man that was on top of him with the butt of his tomahawk, and pushed him off.
The man laid unconscious on the ground, causing the Punisher to stand up. He looked around at his surroundings until his eyes met the top of the apartment buildings. A strange demonic like figure stood, looking down upon the city. "What in the hell is that?" asked Frank as he withdrew one of his glocks from his holster. And aimed it at the creature, "DIE!" he yelled as he began pulling the trigger. The loud shots caused people to flee from their cars, in fear for their lives. Whoever or whatever this was didn't look like it was nice.
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Post by Vincent Westpoint on Feb 24, 2013 19:10:47 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][style=width:460px; height:310px; background:000000 url('http://i1091.photobucket.com/albums/i394/SaltierCracker96/backgrounds/153.jpg'); padding:15; border:5px solid; border-color:e62e00][style=width:230px; height:310px; float:right] [style=margin-bottom:5px]Only seconds before he had changed, traffic had halted on the street. In the dim light, using his Chupacabra eyes, Vincent had figured out that two men with very bad cases of road rage had gotten out of their cars and started a fight on the street below. Vince figured that he could just pick off the sin and weakness of the loser, and get his share of blood. He was betting on the bigger guy with the tomahawk to win. Vin smiled. Who knew that the old Indian weapon would remain a mainstay in tactical arsenals even into this new century? He thought that they were in their death throes when he was just a kid in 1930's Harlem. His roar was just a way of announcing that he was here, and would be around until his thirst for blood was satisfied. Vincent scanned the scene with satisfaction. As always, the desired effect came from his little theatrical show, one that protected the innocent while at the same time exposing any suspects. If a criminal was dumb, they would keep on running in pure terror and fear from the scene instead of crouching down like the rest of the pedestrians below. At this point in time, none were suitable victims; most were women in pencil skirts and men in suits, on their way home from work. Good thing that there was still that other tussle. Hesitating for a second, Vin almost regretted it as the other guy laid back, defeated, and tomahawk guy stood up, wondering what the commotion on the sidewalk was. Spotting Vincent, he cursed and got out a pistol. Yeah, he was pretty much impervious to bullets, but he avoided them when he could. After all, it was more than feasible that a lucky shot could kill him in one fell swoop, and Vincent Westpoint still had a very strong will to live. Seconds before the ammo sailed in to scar the building, Vincent gathered all the strength in his body and taking a daring leap, propelled himself into the air, ending up on the rooftops on the other side of the street, the side closer to the shooter. Those had less light shining up on them, and so he disappeared into their black like a wraith. Then he padded silently down the side of the building, his claws digging into the crumbling mortar between the bricks. Only one with really sharp eyes could discern the Thunderbird tattoo on his back. And, if Vincent's suspicion was right, the man he had to face was a military man, one that would see and pursue. That, or shoot. Either way, Vincent was ready for him.
Tags: Punisher, OPEN Words: 447 Notes: ...that is a bit of a long reply... [/style][/style] |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 24, 2013 23:20:02 GMT -5
----------------------------------- outfitFrank could feel the cold metal against his palm as he's spent his first magazine. Whoever this creature was seemed like a threat that needed to be removed. The bounty would've waited until the beast had been dealt with. The darkness made the Punisher's visibility weak, making the situation a rather bad one. This beast would've had the upper hand if it could see in the dark. 'If only I would've brought the damned night vision goggles.' As soon as he looked down to reload another clip, the beast had disappeared. Was it Mothman? Mothman had been known to be seen out west, but Castle couldn't quite figure out what the hell this thing was. From the corner of an eye, the Punisher caught a glimpse of the creature as it swiped the light. Frank began shooting at the large creature, but missed horribly. "The damn things quick, i'll give it that" spat Castle as he began to hear the sound of clawing on the brick.
Frank began shooting in the direction of where he heard the noise, but noticed he was shooting at its shadows. After wasting another 12 round clip, he quickly threw it back in his holster and opened the door to his Mustang. He grabbed a hold of his M4 Carbine, and loaded a full magazine of 30 rounds. Frank quickly went in his backpack and grabbed four M4 magazines, all prepared and loaded. As he closed the door to his 1975 Mustang, he quickly took aim at where he heard the sound of the scraping noise.
The Punisher decided to move closer so he could receive a better view. As he moved closer, he continued to aim down the sights trying to find the demonic entity. He then spotted a small shade of yellow in the darkness, forcing the Punisher to fire. The loud cackling erupted from the tip of his M4, but also revealed a much clearer picture of the hideous entity. "DIIIIE! yelled the Punisher as the cackling continued, forcing Frank to grit his teeth. Because of the darkness, he couldn't tell whether he'd hit his target or not.
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Post by Vincent Westpoint on Feb 27, 2013 11:24:53 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][style=width:460px; height:310px; background:000000 url('http://i1091.photobucket.com/albums/i394/SaltierCracker96/backgrounds/153.jpg'); padding:15; border:5px solid; border-color:e62e00][style=width:230px; height:310px; float:right] [style=margin-bottom:5px]Wow. This man was packing some serious firepower. That Carbine M4, was some pretty powerful, not to mention expensive. So, he obviously had some sort of resources at his fingertips. He must be experienced in daytime targeting, too. Vincent, himself, never got to use anything fancier than a revolver, so he'd never ever touched a Carbide. He thought that perhaps he could use the pistol, but that was just a guess. Handguns couldn't have changed that much over the years. Though he felt a bit of regret for missing out on the great weapons advances that had happened during his lifetime, Vincent shrugged it off, thinking that the only true weapon he needed was the Chupacabra shifting and the Adam ability.
Though Punisher had some pretty cool gear, he was obviously not unleashing his barrage with the best accuracy or consistency. Perhaps he wasn't that much of a night-adept man after all. That was odd. Vince had completely expected him to be. Instead, he was one that tried to rely more on his brawn and perseverance than his wits. Who was he, exactly? Vincent found his hunger for answers growing as surely as his thirst for blood was. Meanwhile, Round after round came through the night, but in all of Castle's haste to fire, he didn't realize that the beast had come around the back of the other cars and was less than eight feet away, feasting on the blood of the man Punisher had made unconscious earlier. A free treat! If Vince had really been up there, a glowing pair of yellow eyes would have been staring back, and after the first few clips, Vince would have been dead meat. Luckily, none of the other people in the cars made a sound other than trying to drive away as traffic moved on, and the pedestrians were still hunched over, in fear for their lives, so none of them revealed their position. It only took thirty seconds tops to drain the body of all life fluid, turning the cadaver an ashy gray color. It was satisfying, that was for sure, and briefly Vince's eyes flashed red and he felt his heart pump faster as the new hemoglobin was delievered to his blood vessels. Now he turned his attention back to Punisher, who was still firing at nothing, just a ray of light hitting a piece of mica in the brick. Dust flew all over as the bullets ripped mercilessly into the wall. With a quiet, agile leap, Vincent hopped onto the hood of Frank's car. Indents of giant pawprints were left on the hood.
Tags: Punisher, OPEN Words: Notes: none. [/style][/style] |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2013 12:24:05 GMT -5
----------------------------------- outfitAs Frank continued firing at his target, he realized he was hitting nothing but brick. The brick spewed dust as the bullets carved themselves deep inside, but his target was nowhere to be found. Frank quickly dropped his empty magazine to the ground, only to join the large amount of shells that rolled beneath his feet. He quickly reloaded another magazine and continued to aim down his sights trying to find the creature. He slowly gritted his teeth, wanting to find the source of the horrid scream that had echoed throughout the streets only mere minutes ago. He continued walking closer to the area, still aiming down the sight of his M4. This creature needed to be stopped before he could complete his bounty. Whatever this was looked to have been extremely dangerous.
Punisher suddenly heard a slurping sound coming from where his car had been. "What the?" asked Punisher as he turned his head only to see that nothing was present. Frank's main reason for being in LA was to complete his bounty worth $10,000. Frank was good at what he did, even though he lived in a world full of freak shows. Frank was never blessed with powers or abilities. The only powers and abilities he had were his weapons, and his skills in using them. From out of nowhere a civilian had called out to Frank, "The beast is on your car!" screamed a woman who'd been taking cover from his fire.
Castle quickly jolted around only to find the dog-like beast on top of his hood. He gritted his teeth more, and sprinted at the creature's location. Until he was close enough, he quickly knelt to a knee continuing to aim his M4 at the beast, "WHO ARE YOU!?" asked the soldier as he continued aiming. He looked down in front of his car and witnessed the lifeless man that had picked a fight with him earlier. His jugular looked as if it was ripped out, leaving behind a pale and gray man. Punisher wasn't going to wait and find out who this creature was, so he pulled the trigger. As soon as he pulled the trigger his gun made a funny noise,"DAMN!" yelled Castle as he tried hard in prying his magazine from the damned gun. The gun was jammed, and it would've taken the tools in his car to fix it. He tossed the M4 aside, and threw off his leather trench coat. He quickly went into a fighting stance, and prepared for the worst. The rest of his guns, including his holster carrying his glocks, were in his car.
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Post by Vincent Westpoint on May 29, 2013 23:19:07 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][style=width:460px; height:310px; background:000000 url('http://i1091.photobucket.com/albums/i394/SaltierCracker96/backgrounds/153.jpg'); padding:15; border:5px solid; border-color:e62e00][style=width:230px; height:310px; float:right] [style=margin-bottom:5px]Alerted by a pedestrian, the gunman swung around, and spotting Vincent on his hood charged, reloading as he went. Really, the chupacabra-shifter admired the other's tenacity. Though he was esentially human, he couldn't help but look at it from the viewpoint of something as extraterrestrial as the Chupie he was and think, that humans were special. Besides having good blood to drink, sweet, wonderful, succulent ambrosia to the thirsty heart that beat in Vin's chest, they had boldness and weren't afraid of anything. They also were smart enough to develop advanced weapon systems in the short amount of time they had existed (in comparison, that is, to the stories he had heard in his strange eighty years of roaming the earth of alien races that were thousands of eons old).
Mr. Brawny Power hesitated quite a bit with the trigger finger, but despite himself was determined to pull it eventually. Vincent sat, one ear cocked, looking very much like a humongous, big-eyed, twelve-inch fanged dog, but not with his stump of a tail wagging. Just, coolly staring death in the face. Fully expecting what was to happen next, Vincent waited for the end to come. Or, that is, what Punisher would expect to be the end. Who Are You? was the question that was spit out first, though it was followed by an attempt to kill. Vince was prepared to immediately hop down, put another souvenir of his presence in the side of the vehicle, perhaps a set of claw marks in the fender, and disappear into the not-quite-blackness. However, instead of the click of the gun ready to fire, there was a much different sound. It kind of made the beast grin and nod in total recognition of the universal truth of machines- there was always flaw in any one came across. His assailant's own firearm had seized up. It seemed that he'd have to answer the question instead, instead of just vamoosing like he had originally planned. "Who am I? Well, I've been called many things in my lifetime." If a growly voice could sound bored, that's how Vincent would describe it right now. "This beast is Chupacabra. But, if it's a name you want, Vincent's the one." quickly, Vincent initiated the change, and in moments the monster no longer sat there, it was the human, cross legged and grinning halfway-maliciously. Actually, Vincent was starting to like this guy. True, he was vulgar and quite violent, but hey, Vincent was too. His kind of man. Probably, if they got to talking, they'd find they'd have a lot in common. But really now that didn't matter. They faced each other as enemies, and they would leave this place as enemies... Or, would they? Definitely, though, no one would walk away dead. Vincent had no plans to kill this man, he was a strong, powerful person who, Vin felt deep down, needed to live. And the other was out of options for weapons, so really he couldn't do anything about the man sitting on the hood of the car unless quicker than lightning he hopped down and pulled something else from his stash in the vehicle. That is, if he did have anything there. Vincent was pretty sure he did. The other prepared for attack but Vince just shook his head and slowly, ponderously, got to his feet. "I carefully choose who I kill; you are not in any way on my list." Tags: Punisher, OPEN Words: Notes: I took forever, sorry about that. [/style][/style] |
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FORUM SKIN BY KATYA OF GANGNAM-STYLE
do not steal
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