Post by Aaron "Red" Newberg on Oct 2, 2009 17:42:54 GMT -6
Aaron "Red" Newberg
Franchise: Marvel (Civil War).
Celebrity Claim: Jake Lloyd.
Custom Title: Hero with Heart.
Alignment: Hero.
Age: 17.
Gender: Male.
Special Abilities and Strengths:
He has the ability to project red auras in any shape or form that he chooses. For example, he would be able to project a red wall of energy to provide a shield, hurl red aura discs at his opponets, or shot a beam of aura straight forward at his opponets.
Weaknesses:
In the emotional terms, it would be the fact that he sees every living person as someone who needs to be saved. His caring for those around him often eludes his sense of judgement. Sometimes his anger may preceed himself, and cloud his sense of judgement, acting based on only what knows, and nobody else.
Franchise: Marvel (Civil War).
Celebrity Claim: Jake Lloyd.
Custom Title: Hero with Heart.
Alignment: Hero.
Age: 17.
Gender: Male.
Special Abilities and Strengths:
He has the ability to project red auras in any shape or form that he chooses. For example, he would be able to project a red wall of energy to provide a shield, hurl red aura discs at his opponets, or shot a beam of aura straight forward at his opponets.
Weaknesses:
In the emotional terms, it would be the fact that he sees every living person as someone who needs to be saved. His caring for those around him often eludes his sense of judgement. Sometimes his anger may preceed himself, and cloud his sense of judgement, acting based on only what knows, and nobody else.
Personality: A very straight-forward person, Aaron demonstrates all sorts of wisdom despite his age. Bearing justful judgement when the time comes whenever necassary, knowing how to overcome his overlapping emotions, and fairly easy and striking up friendships. His taste for friendship is only exceeded by his determination to 'revive' chivalry. Believing that chivalry has died long before it's time, one of the few reasons he sets out to become a hero (despite the Superhuman Registration Act).
His hatred for those who only believe in themselves and nothing more is cut deep into the fabric of his soul. Another one of the many things that make him want to vomit are those who don't believe that there's hope, regardless of whatever religon you belong to. He loves those who can see beyond the physical aspects of this world, while he loathes those who cannot. Despite his young age, his mind thinks in a rather complex manner, despite the fact that he tries to make light of any situation that seems a bit too tense.
History: Born in Seattle, Washington, Aaron lived his life as any other child would do amongst his parents. An only child, Aaron longed for friends who would find their own personal nirvana in befriending him. Despite best efforts, Aaron's public life remained unhappy, due to the lack of those whom would even consider befriending him. Though at home, all those thoughts melted away when he remained with his parents. His mother, the caring, loving, kind-hearted, beautiful woman whom continuously recalled his resemblance of her. And his father, who's sturdy composure, tough love, and wisdom drove Aaron to become the man his father is.
Soon enough, however, he'd find his life torn from him, forcibly, when he'd returned from his ordinary school life, aching to reunite with his parents, only to find the door swung open. Realizing his parent's were a bit too secretive to leave the door carefree like this, he rushed into the home, worried for his parents. The sounds of constant cries came from the kitchen. Aaron, sweating in a fit of panic and uncontrollable fury, raced to the kitchen. Feet patting against the solid floor, the noise was detectable by only one, whom, wearing some sort of Japanese demon mask to disguise himself, held a single bat in the midst of his hands, stained with the scent, and sight of blood.
Eyes wide with fear, Aaron stole a glance at the figures the man had been beaten. His suspicions were comfirmed, unfortunately. His parents lie there in a pool of their own blood, beaten to death by one man. Said man began a slow trot to Aaron, bat now in a sort of neutral position as he walked. Aaron stole another glance, this time at the appearal of this man. On the man's shirt-marked with the blood of his only friends- was the words, crudely placed with graffiti: 'Mutants are blasphemy'.
Unable to understand any of the going-ons, Aaron cradeled himself into a fetal position upon the floor, scrunching up into a corner. The man charged at young Aaron, tears streaming down his face like a flowing river, arms propped to the man as if in protection. In Aaron's eyes, this seemed to be the end. Though as the man's metal bat swung down upon him, Aaron's hands began to illuminate in a projection of light. The young man, caught off guard by this sudden change of events, was immediatly thrown from Aaron, to the opposite side of the room by a blinding red light, it seemed.
Eyes slowly blinking open, tears still streaming to a halt, Aaron's composure had been completely shaken to it's core. As if an X-Men, or member of the Avengers had come to his aid, he took glances about the room, mouth now wide with the gleaming smile of a wayward youth. No person came into sight. Only himself, the now unconcious attacker, and the tattered bodies of his parents, whom just looking at made him more of a weak stomach than he'd been before. The thought came slowly to him...had he been the one to have done that?
Muffled groans came from the attacker. He'd be naught but awake soon. Unaware of what precautions he should take, young Aaron bolted up the stairs, the same river of tears began once more, and made a constant plipping sound against each step. Within a matter of moments, young Aaron found himself at the door of his parent's bedroom. Once more, a thought had occured to him. He'd never been inside before. Whenever he found himself curious, he was either confined reluctantly to his room, or coaxed into continuing his exploration elsewhere. Feeling that none of such punishments were a necessity now, Aaron inhaled deeply, and latching his small, trembling hand on the door, entered the room.
His foundings were a large dissapointment. Nothing but ordinary furnishings, similar to that of the living room. Grief stricken by his parent's lives being forcibly taken, and not yet accepting that his parents were mutants and he may have been also, Aaron stumbled to the end of the room, until another odd situation occured. Out of the corner of his eye, upon the bookshelf closest to him, a glint of light shone bright. Feeling he'd finally found the reason his parents kept him from the room, the young child rushed to the bookcase. Despite his current height, the book had been upon a lowered shelf, as if it were awaiting his appearance.
Quickly snatching the book from upon the shelf, the young man crouched himself into the corner, excitedly flipping through the pages, the wait being unbearable. The first page revealed to his eye, though it only being the first of many, what he'd read astounded him. The page had read such things as witchcraft, wizardry, mutants, and even tellings of meetings with The Scarlet Witch.
Upon further knowledge of said book, it came to Aaron so quickly, yet so suddenly. This was no book. It was a journal. His parents were no mutants. They were wizards...or witches...he couldn't find the correct term for what they were. And he inherited their power. Which explained the sudden burst of ominous crimson light from his hands. Little by little, his power began to show itself.
Feeling his home was no place to experiment with such powers, Aaron fled with said book, and a bag full of his closest possesions. He felt as though the things he were forced to witness should not be forced upon any others. This storng emotion growing in him, he fled to various states, surviving as the young, travelling super-hero, Red.
Sample Role Play Post: Lights shining bright, the sounds of the city blaring as loud as they possibly could muster. The shouts and rants of flustered civilians crowded the streets, while above only one reigned the rooftops, looking down on the pedestrians below. This one figure, covered in a shroud of crimson colors. Crimson hood, draped over their head to prevent curious ones from gazing at his true face. The cloak glimmered in the night, and was blown by the midnight winds ever so freely.
Shoes (if you choose to call them as such) were only tattered boots, as blood red as the worn cloak he wore. Tunic, seemed to go fit with other such wearings. As if the tunic were splattered in blood, the color matched the drapes, as they say. Fingerless gloves that allowed free movement, the same crimson tint as the other appearals on this mysterious being.
One child, travelling by his lonesome in the thick of the night with naught but a simple grocery bag, stared into the thickness of the foggy sky. As if fearing the sky would rain with crimson hail, he stared at the lone figure atop the building. Said lone figure stared back at this child, whom speculated the wonder before him. Though before taking off into the darkness of the night, the figure winked at the child, nodding as if in approval, and gave forth a smile. The child blinked warily, wondering if what he saw was real. The moment his eyes had reopened, the figure was gone.
Into the darkness of the abyss, thought the crimson figure. And I will never come out.
How did you find us?: RPG Directory.
What about you? Anything else?:Well, now I do have some questions. On the list of canons people can choose from, you left out various Marvel people, one of which I was hoping I could use a second alt. His name is Iron Fist/Daniel Rand. And I'd rather not tell my name if you could respect that please. It makes me feel a bit uncomfertable telling people my name via internet.
What about you? Anything else?:Well, now I do have some questions. On the list of canons people can choose from, you left out various Marvel people, one of which I was hoping I could use a second alt. His name is Iron Fist/Daniel Rand. And I'd rather not tell my name if you could respect that please. It makes me feel a bit uncomfertable telling people my name via internet.
(who says chivalry is dead? 
) ACCEPTED