forum Closed || RP w/Carrots

Started March 22, 2020 by @Moriarty

tune

Believe it or not, he had once been the city's most formidable villain. Cunning. Powerful. Unstoppable. The crime gangs feared him. Other villains cowered in his presence. Most heroes didn't even dare come after him for fear of getting obliterated. There was no one like him, no one who matched his power, no one who could even dream of stopping him.
Except for her. The hero.
And he loved her. Oh, heavens– how he loved her.
She was the reason he never destroyed the city altogether, the reason he refrained from killing when possible. Not because he feared her. Not because she was capable of physically stopping him. But because he loved her.
They fought often, but he never beat her. There were times when he could've, times when he could've struck her down, laughed at her demise and slaughtered her like he had countless other heroes before. But he never wanted that for her.
No.
No, no, no.
He just wanted to see her. To see her win. See her victorious. Nevermind his crazy schemes. Forget about money or power or revenge or riches. The motive behind his villainous acts had gone from a quest for power to a cry for attention. She always came when he started messing things up, and he felt it strange to approach her after they had been enemies for so long– so what better way to draw her out than by resorting to the already tried and true methods?
This worked for sometime. He would commit some random misdeed, maybe with intentions of seeing it through, maybe not. She would arrive to stop him. He would lose, feigning an attempt to win but in the long run allowing her to defeat him and narrowly avoiding capture. It was a game that he loved to play. And he would only play it with her. Any other hero showed up, and they were dead meat. Always. He never wanted them. Only her.

But then everything went wrong. Terribly wrong.
He still remembers it vividly. Even now.
The other villain, crimson-covered knife in hand.
The open gash across the hero's neck.
Her crumbled body on the ground.
Motionless.
Lifeless.
Gone.
It was never supposed to end that way. Even if he could never have her, he had never desired to see her dead. Never desired to see her hurt. She wasn't supposed to go out that way. She was supposed to live a happy life. A good life. She was a hero. She'd given everything she had to save others. To help people.
And she was dead.
In that moment of realization, when he saw her there and knew he wound see her no more, grief and rage and anguish blinded him. To this day, he doesn't fully recall what happened immediately after. But he remembers regaining his senses, looking down at his hands– stained in red, with blood beneath his fingernails and in the crevices of his palm. The mutilated body of the villain, contorted on the ground in a heap of blood and flesh. The knife– which had been used to slay both of those now deceased– lying close by.
How could he forget the agonizing moments of falling his knees by her side? Of weeping over her corpse? How could he suppress the memory of drawing her lifeless figure up into his lap, hugging her close to his body, begging her to return to him? Who would fight him now that she was gone? Who would stop him now that she had departed from this life and onto the next?
"Please," he had pleaded so desperately. "Why couldn't it have been me?! It was never supposed to end this way. Not for you. Please. Come back to me. I– I can't do this without you."
But his cries fell on deaf ears, and she did not return to him.
He had meant it, though. He could not continue without her.
Being a villain had no true purpose for him any more. Granted, he had began this walk on his own accord, seeking power, seeking fame, but it had taken a different route, and he found himself unable to be motivated by his original desires. And other heroes– they were too boring. Too lackluster. Too weak. Too fake. And any reminder of her just broke his heart, anyways.
So… he retired.
Retreated from that life.
That was years ago.
Now he's an alcoholic living in a shabby apartment in the slums of the big city. As far as the public and most other villains know, he just sort of… vanished. Disappeared off of the face of the earth. But, to make matters worse, when his beloved hero was found dead, he was blamed for her demise. How they could blame him, he didn't know, considering the fact that he had went as far as to create a memorial to her there at the site of her death, in that dark alleyway that he still visits several times a year. Once on her birthday. Once in celebration of the day they first encountered one another. Once on the day she died. He even goes the extra mile to bring flowers there each time. Carnations, specifically. Her favorite.
But his life has no meaning now. Only sorrow. Only pain. And he assumes that it will continue in this fashion until he eventually croaks. And that day can't come fast enough, as far as he's concerned.

Your character can be absolutely anything. They just have to be human. No demons or magic or anything crazy– though non-magical powers are welcomed and embraced here. This RP is set in the future a bit, so if you want to use sci-fi elements, go right ahead. It is likely that he/she will have heard of my character in the past, as he was incredibly infamous when he was active in the crime world. He has since then vanished, though no one knows his identity or where he has gone. Some suggestions for your character include a hero, a villain, a civilian, etc. If you would like to do a romance, please make the character female, as my boy is very straight. If you don't want to do romance, either male or female is fine. If you want your main to be a male but you still want to do romance, you are allowed to have more than one character. However, I prefer that all ships be straight. Nonetheless, this character is up to you. They can be powerful or not, well-known or not, evil or good, etc. etc. etc. Try to give them some depth. That doesn't mean you can't develop them throughout the RP. Making a vague outline at the beginning and developing throughout it always a beautiful thing, so feel free to do so.

As is, my character is currently drowning his sorrows in liquor and not too threatening at the moment. In order for the RP to progress, we will need some way for the characters to meet, and your character will either take interest in this strange man or have a reason to already be trying to motivate him. Some ideas are:

• A civilian who meets him, unaware that he was once a villain, and attempts to befriend him. We go from here.
• A villain who knows of his true identity and has discovered his whereabouts. Knowing of his powers and capabilities, they are eager to officially meet and attempt to ally themselves with him– only to find this somewhat pitiful shell of a man. We go from here.
• An anti-hero who has discovered his whereabouts, has intentions on killing him for his past crimes, but discovers that he's not even threatening anymore but rather downright broken. We go from here.
• Anything, honestly, so long as it gives us room for interesting escalations. I am heavily relying on your input because this RP has as much to do with you as it does me.

The rules are simple.

• No language. Blot it out with @#$% or don't use it at all. Thanks.
• No sex scenes. All other forms of physical affection are welcomed and embraced.
• Only MxF ships.
• Try to post once a day. This is a lenient rule. It's okay if you can't.
• Keep grammar mistakes at a minimum, but everyone has them, and I type fast so I have plenty myself. This is not a big deal.
• Violence is welcome, but don't go crazy with the gore. Describe the scene, but come on. Don't go overboard, man.
• Ask questions. Questions are good.
• No demons. No magic.
• I prefer no auto-hitting in fights, but no dodging every attack either. Be realistic. But if you do auto hit it's probably okay. I usually allow this.
• You can have as many characters as you can play. No need to ask.
• I will sign up my character once you have signed up yours.
• Most importantly: have fun ^ - ^

Sign ups (remove parentheses)

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Alias:
Powers: (if any)
Appearance:
Outfit:
Gear/Tech:
Other:

You can add personality and backstory if you like, but these can be developed throughout the RP as well. You do not have to fill out all of these points. They are simply guidelines.

Name: Caitrin 'Catie' Moores
Age: 24
Gender: female
Alias: Glitch
Powers: None (unless super intelligence counts then that)
Appearance: Catie has long, brown hair that falls to just above her waist. It generally falls in waves but she tends to straighten it often enough. Her eyes are a golden brown, often looking like pools of honey when she stands in the sun. She has long dark lashes to go with them. Her skin is very pale, snow white worthy and is complimented by an array of freckles all over her skin. She has a heart shaped face with a small button nose. Very lithe, slightly curvy, though is quite strong even though not many people would think so. Is around 5'5. Also has metal prosthetic for her left arm.
Outfit: In general day to day life she wears leggins or jeans with black and white converse. an oversized grey jumper or variation there of. Black beanie in the colder months or a black snap back in the warmer ones.
Gear/Tech: Has a lot of gadgets, mainly related to hacking. There are many items she keeps in her belt, and she often refers to it as her '70's spy belt' considering how many she has. Hand held computers, lasers, and guns are prominent and tech to help hack computer systems at top speed are also there, programs she designed herself. She has a mask she wears over her face when on missions that has night vision and such, kind of like Jarvis from Ironman.
Other: Very much a cat person, cross between a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff, has to wear glasses for reading.

(She okay? I can make changes if necessary)

Ah! Fantastic! I think that she is amazing! ^-^ I love everything about her.
I will have my guy up here as soon as I get the chance to type him up. In the meantime, which of the plot ideas that I mentioned do you find most intriguing? Or more specifically, do you have any ideas or suggestions as to where this plot should go and how we should get it rolling? :3

Okay! And thanks! And for the plot I was thinking maybe… well Caitrin is more of a hero character, but I was thinking… what if there was some larger, more deadly villain out that that wanted to get to your character and take them down? And somehow he found out about his love for the hero and that’s why he sent a villain to kill them? Caitrin being interested in your characters history tries to find them and does, obviously and helps him get back on his feet as they try to take down the other villain. Sorry if that doesn’t make any sense :)

It makes perfect sense– and I think that's a brilliant idea. ^-^ I say we do it! Would you like to play this more deadly villain? I'm not sure if he/she would be making much of an appearance this early in the RP, but they will likely be important to the plot later as we continue down this path. :3

Sure! It also gives me time to think up the villain character :p

Yes, yes! Plenty of time for good plotting and planning is always best. ^-^ Let's see… Is there anything else to establish before we begin? What do you think would be a good opening scene for this RP, and which of us should start it?

Um.. I don’t think there’s anything to establish other then your character and I think that maybe you should start. I think maybe the scene should be something like he get’s a nightmare and goes out to get a drink and Caitrin follows and tries to talk to him. Something along those lines.

Okay! I'll go ahead and put my character up, and then I'll make the first post. ^-^ Just a sec.

Okie dokie :) Take your time.

Name: Dominic "Dom" Creed
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Alias: Nightfall
Powers: Line-of-sight teleportation; shadow manipulation; heightened senses (well, when he's sober, at least)
Appearance: 5'11, with an average build. He used to be well toned, but he hasn't really done much over the past couple years, so he's lost some of that. His face is more angular than square, and he has a sharp jawline. His nose, too, is sharp, average-sized, with a straight bridge. The rest of his features are a tad softer, lips of average fullness and noticeable eyelashes around his dark grey-ish blue eyes. His hair is black, with a slight curl to it, often cut short. These days, he usually doesn't find the motivation to shave every day, so it's not uncommon for him to sport thick stubble lining his jawline.
Outfit: Nowadays it's lucky if he changes out of his pajamas in the morning. He tends to wear whatever is available to him, which usually includes a pair of baggy sweatpants and a hoodie (that's probably stained with alcohol, truth be told). On a good day, he'll go for a pair of jeans and a half-way decent shirt with a few wrinkles in it. Back in his villainy days, he wore all black, thick combat boots, leather gloves, and a hooded trench-coat.
Gear/Tech: He carries a gun. He used to have a lot more weapons, and technically he still owns them, but he doesn't carry them and barely acknowledges their existence at this point.
Other:

aww babyyy :((( I love him

He'd watched the death replay in his dreams more times than he could count. It was always a little different, sometimes exaggerated, sometimes blurred. Always painful. Sleep had become a burden, always riddled with nightmares and distorted images, reminders of where everything went wrong.
With a gasp and a start, Dominic snapped back to reality. He jolted upright from where he'd fallen into an alcohol-induced sleep earlier, face-down on the rugged wood of his kitchen table. How long he'd been there, God only knew. The entire side of Dominic's face was soaked in either drool or sweat– likely a mixture of both. He grimaced in disgust, wiping his face with his hand. A headache pounded in his skull, and he wasn't sure if it was from stress or from the fact that he was just getting over that last bottle of alcohol.
He didn't care. He needed another.
Dominic shoved his chair back away from the table, the wooden legs screeching against the floor. His legs were stiff and shaky as he staggered over to the refrigerator and yanked the door open before shoving aside some half-empty jars and an outdated gallon of milk.
An irritated groan escaped him.
No more alcohol.
Of course not.
He'd drank the last bit of it last night. Or whenever it was that he'd fallen asleep.
Well… whatever. He'd just go out. He needed to get out, anyway. Go to the gas station and buy him some beer. But the bar was closer. Maybe he'd go there first. Get himself a few drinks. Distract his mind.
He didn't bother changing. He was wearing pants and a shirt and that was good enough. Even if they were wrinkly and a bit unpresentable, nobody really cared. He sure didn't.
He slipped his feet into his worn-out shoes, sloppily shoved his arms into his jacket, and stuck his gun in his back pocket. The latter was just for protective purposes. Not that he cared, honestly. Getting mugged in the streets was possibly the least of his worries these days. Someone might as well put a bullet in his head while he was at it. He wouldn't mind that too much, either. He'd almost done it himself a few times. He was just too big of a coward to go through with it.
It was cool outside, so he zipped his jacket up to his chin, the breeze tugging at his clothes. He double-checked to make sure he'd had his wallet so that he didn't trek all the way to the bar just to find that he was cashless. He'd done that before. Thankfully, his wallet was here today.
He squinted up at the graying, evening sky, sniffing absently as he began his journey from the shabby apartment building to the just-as-shabby bar down the road.

Hero work and university work had kept Caitrin busy. Busier then she normally was, anyway. She hadn’t caught a break for months. And besides that, she’d been looking into Nightfall. The villain was one she was very familiar with, outside of hero work. Mainly because he had been a topic of interest for many, and especially her.

She’d been tracking his movement for a while now. Hoping to talk to him. To figure out what was going on. She’d looked into the villain that had killed his hero and found some information that worried her. Mainly who he worked for.

All she knew of him was that he called himself The Dictator. But other then that there was nothing. Zero information in who he was. Not even on the dark web! It confused her more than she wanted to admit.

Bars weren’t exactly Caitrin’s thing. She hated how loud they could be. And the fact that she was downtown didn’t help. But, she had to talk to him, she couldn’t just dropped the issue, it was bothering her too much.

She shoved her hands into her pockets, the slight chill from the wind making her shiver as she trailed behind him.

(Oooh, the Dictator. Sounds ominous. I love it.)

Dominic glanced over his shoulder once or twice, possibly noticing the girl in the distance behind him– but it didn't occur to him that she might've been following him. In the past it would've. He used to be so observant. He'd slipped a little over the years.
Losing everything would do that to a guy.
He stopped in front of the door of the bar to count out his money in advance. His left hand shook ever so slightly as he did– something that happened all the time nowadays, and he wasn't sure why. Could stress do that to him? He had no clue. And, frankly, he didn't care. He simply clenched that fist around the money he'd counted out and shoved it into his jacket pocket, pushing the bar door open with his other and stepping inside. The stench of beer and cigarette smoke smacked him in the face. Alcohol and nicotine. The only things that even came close to comforting him anymore. Sure, they slowly killed him, but what difference did that make now? It was for the best, anyway.

(heh, I’m glad)

Of course, a bar. Caitrin didn’t know why she’d expected anything different. Considering his appearance, she could tell there was something wrong with the once powerful villain. The hero couldn’t tell if it eased her or worried her more then the other.

The nicotine and the alcohol were two smells that she hated. Despised was probably a better word for it. But, taking into account why she was there, she would put up for it, if only for a little while.

The bar was crowded and rowdy. Everyone felt too close and it was like they could see right through her and they all knew exactly why she was there.

Dominic, distracted and caught up in his own little world of depression and lack of self-motivation, still had failed to notice that she'd followed him into the bar. It was a good thing she didn't plan to murder him, because if she had, it would likely have been too easy. Similarly, it was a good thing the Dictator had yet to try to kill him, because the chances of him putting up a fight in this state were slim. The only thing he'd fight would likely be torture or reminders of what had happened– which were essentially the same thing. He bought himself a drink and navigated through the smelly crowd, ignoring the other patrons. He wasn't a fan of the crowds, either, but he felt too lazy to head back out just yet– at least not without a little more alcohol in his system– so he flopped into a chair in the corner, where he could drink in peace. Only a drink or two, and then he had plans to go buy as much beer as he could carry from the gas station down the street and lug it back to his shoddy apartment room.

Caitrin grabbed herself a lemonade, mainly because she wasn't the biggest fan of alcohol as one could probably tell. And besides, she wanted to be sober for this conversation. She saw Dominic sitting in the corner and after a few moments, she headed over, avoiding all the creepy guys and drunks trying to grab at her and get her attention. Another reason why she didn't come to bars very often. Did she even know what to say? Like, 'Hey, I know who you are and I wanna talk about the time your hero died?' Yeah no, that wasn't a good idea. But it was too late to think as she was now standing right in front of him, "Um, hi," She coughed, "Can we talk?"

Dominic hadn't even noticed the girl until she spoke. His eyes had been on the ice cubes floating around in his drink. He raised his gaze as she spoke, peering up at her. He almost wondered if she was talking to someone else, but there was no one behind him besides the wall, and she was standing right smack in front of him. There wasn't anyone else for her to be talking to.
He frowned a little. "Uh… sure, I guess," he murmured doubtfully, his confusion evident. "Do I know you?" He wasn't sure how he could. He hadn't really talked to anyone in a long time. Except for Jerry the bartender, who Dom knew on a first name basis just because he visited here so much for his alcoholic needs.