The Keepers of Peace {open}

/ By canadonewithursh-t [+Watch]

Replies: 1 / 8 days 4 hours 26 minutes 45 seconds

Allowed Users

  1. [Allowed] Killmonger
  2. [Allowed] HanyouMokushi
  3. [Allowed] Osiris
  4. [Allowed] Souldreamer
  5. [Allowed] Animeluver

Disclaimer: This Rp is inspired by The Umbrella Academy, MCU and DC.

[Center [pic]

Out there in the world, there are people not like you and I. They have abilities that aren't human... Some say that they are genetic mutations, others say they are gifts from God... These people are rare and come few and far between. So it was very unlikely that a group of children, with varying abilities, would find each other and be friends... But that was exactly what happened and was the origin story of the Keepers, each of them knew they weren't quite like other children...

They felt it within themselves and yet found rather drawn to their would be friends. After they had formed, it didn't take long to discover their abilities and soon they trained with eachother, helping one another in anyway they could... After all, they only had each other. It was only once they felt confident in their abilities did they decide to take on small crimes, with each year they stopped more and moved onto bigger things until they were globally known as The Keepers, a group of teenage superheroes... However, one day everything changed, no one quite knew how it started but they started to resent each other, they'd constantly bicker, argue and even physically fight... It became so bad that they decided to disband...

Many years later and the group of friends are now all adults, leading their seperate lives as peaceful Civilian's. They fought crime since their years of being a teen and none have stayed in touch... But once again, their lives are changed as a new threat arises... One that they simply cannot ignore...

Will these heroes band together for the greater good or is their bond too broken?

[Center ~•~•~•~•~]

[b Rules]
• 18+, 3rd person writer
• Rules of ES apply
• Be ready for open communication with me for planning and letting each other know if we are going to be busy.
• If you are no longer liking the Rp, please, let me know and don't ditch
• Give effort
• If you are interested, PM your title 'The Keepers' and send me a filled out skelly once completed.
• Have fun!

[b Character Skelly]
Name of Character:
Age of character:
Code/hero name:

[B Cast]

Writer: Killmonger
Name of Character: Warwick Roses
Age of character: 26
Gender: Male
Job: MMA Instructor
Code/hero name: Rush
Power: Coupled with his superhuman speed is a set of similarly unrivaled reflexes, complemented by his lifelong devotion to- and talent for- mixed martial arts. War is a sprinter, however, and not a long-distance runner. He's usually careful to limit how long he's using his powers in a given day, as once he's out of juice, he's OUT. War sleeps quite a bit more often than most as a result, as his body cannot handle the pressures of reenergizing his exhausted body and keeping him awake/functioning at the same time. He is dangerously vulnerable when he's running on fumes and knows that relying on his powers alone can be fatal, and tries to avoid these situations like the plague.

Writer: canadonewitbursh-t
Name of Character: Imani Abara
Age of character: 25
Gender: Female
Job: Barista
Code/hero name: Priestess
Power: Imani, through the use of Fetishes, calls upon the Seven Children of Mahu, the divine creator- Sakpata: Vodun of the Earth, Xêvioso: Vodun of Thunder, Agbe: Vodun of the Sea, Gû: Vodun of Iron and War, Agê: Vodun of Agriculture and Forests, Jo: Vodun of Air, and Lêgba: Vodun of the Unpredictable. One of the Spirits, for a period of time, will grant her control of their domain.

Writer: Osiris
Name of Character: Tristan Keane
Nicknames: TK, initials also being the abbreviation of Telekinesis
Age of character: 25
Gender: Male
Job: Bookstore Clerk
Code/hero name: Poltergeist
Power: Psychokinesis, or commonly known as Telekinesis, the ability to mentally maneuver objects without physical interaction. Prolonged use can be psychologically fatiguing, cause bleeding from the nose, eyes and ears; massive strain of lifting an extremely heavy object or multiples at once could also force him unconscious, into a coma or can lead to fatality. He is only able to lift, target, move objects that he can see and feel around him.

Writer: Souldreamer
Name of Character: Freya Williams
Age of character: 25
Gender: Female
Job: Hairstylist
Code/hero name: Siren
Power: If she can make skin contact with a person she can convince them to do as she says. It works best on only a single person at a time. But she is able to hypnotize up to three people comfortably. If she is pushing herself maybe four but she is likely to feel extreme exhaustion if she attempts this.

Writer: HanyouMokushi
Name: Percival “Percy” Briallu
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Job: Mechanic
Code Name: Sync
Power: Technopath in general terms. Technology is his plaything making him extremely apt in the modern world, at times even being able to 'pull’ things from cyberspace into the material world, these are only temporary constructs that dissolve through use or a loss of concentration. The extent of his ability is restricted by his imagination and to the physical limitation of whatever item he’s handling. However, such limitless power has it’s price. Most tasks can become mentally draining, having abused the power a bit in his youth he has issues controlling some aspects of it. Other technology reacts to him, namely in the form of white noise in his head that is mostly buzzing in his ears or headaches, at worst has led to seizures. Some mental training has countered some but not all the effects. He needs to be around technology to use his power, but it can easily turn around and bite him in the ass.

Writer: Killmonger
Name of Character: Sun Suyin
Age of character: 26
Gender: Female
Job: Field Service Technician
Code/hero name: Riot
Power: Sun possesses innate superhuman strength and durability, albeit these traits are largely attributed to a special protein that her body overproduces and expends rather quickly. To accommodate her intense metabolism, powers, and to stay alive, Sun generally has to consume at least two-thirds of her own bodyweight in food each week. She has no choice but to eat frequently and to monitor her weight and muscle mass daily out of medical necessity.

Writer: canadonewirhursh-t
Name: Victor Vanderbilt
Nickname(s): Vicky, Vic
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Occupation: Mechanic/Engineer
Code/Hero Name: Nuke
Powers and Abilities: His power allows nuclear reactions to happen inside of his body, this allowing him to produce bolts of lightning. However, he can only be charged for so long and once he runs out of energy he can only produce steam and extreme heat.

Writer: Animeluver
Name of Character: Lumina Skye
Age of character: 25
Gender: Nonbinary
Job: Fiction Author, Self Publishing
Code/hero name: War Ferret
Power: Self-Manipulation, gifted with near perfect malleable anatomy Lumina has always been able to change into whatever they desired or whatever suited the situation. Not only can they change their face, hair, eyes and anything else aesthetically, Lumina can grow sharp horns or claws, sprout wings to fly, and even change into a much larger creature the size of a bus with a snapping maw - a transformation that makes them lose all wit in a rage that won't stop till they lose consciousness. She doesn't want to do that again. Besides the possibility of losing their sense of self to something a bit more beastly, the other downside of their power is that the more changes they make to their form the more energy is used up by the sudden mutation - pulling more than two new appendages during a fight or high concentration task might exhaust them.


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Roleplay Responses

[i ]

They were being so loud, right in the middle of the store, two customers he believed he saw them come in together, but they were shouting so loudly. Tristan's head felt like it was going to explode, why must they shout in the store, why could they not take their fight outside? He didn't even know what started it as the two hadn't been in the bookstore very long, but the noise... The noise hurt him so bad, he wanted them to go away, just take their purchases or rentals and leave so he could return to his peace and quiet.

Migraines were always the bane of his existence, how his brain thundered against his skull, it was enough to make a grown man cry-and sometimes he did. When the pain got too bad, when no amount of aspirins or darkened rooms could ease the migraine, the headaches that came from such noises. There they went shouting at each other again, boisterous and shrill, high-pitched yelling as their faces turned scarlet, they slammed books down on the counter that Tristan stood behind, making him physically flinch.

[#007294 "Stop."] He started to say, but Tristan was always soft-spoken, and the people could not hear him over their own loud mouths. [#007294 "Y-You have to l-leave or I'll..."] Again they did not hear him, even as he straightened up and tried to sound more authoritative, his head was throbbing so badly, he couldn't even differentiate what they were arguing about anymore, they jumped through at least seven topics already, each one making them angrier than the last. [#007294 "Stop it..."]

[#007294 [b "STOP IT!"]] Finally he couldn't take it anymore and as he yelled he felt the telekinetic blast shoot like an invisible tidal wave from him, throwing books and magazines into the air and shoving the two customers away from the counter. The man flew through the front window, shattering it into a million pieces and the woman landed just short of the door, knocked into decorative shelves that clattered to the floor with her weight sending the pamphlets and tabloids strewn onto the floor as well. The blast was so large he knocked over rows of bookshelves even behind him, resulting in loud banging of books being tossed out of the shelves, thudding to the hardwood floor raucously. Then Tristan only saw his vision start to fade, like the creeping of dark fog coming from his peripherals until it enveloped all of him and he blacked out. When Tristan finally woke up and opened his sky blue eyes, it was not the storefront's ceiling he saw above him but the upstairs apartment belonging to the owner and his wife.

Conor O'Brien was a kind older gentleman from the sweetest green land known as Ireland, he and his wife, Imogen, had started the bookstore over thirty years ago and was one of the few places that was willing to hire Tristan since he split from fighting crime. Tristan was a light-hearted Irishman himself, barely causing any trouble-more comfortable surrounded with books than with people and he felt quite at home working for the O'Briens. Uncle Conor he liked people to call him, a generous and golden soul hardly ever raised his voice to any that didn't deserved it. Tristan groaned from where he was laid out on their well-worn couch, covered with a quilt and the smell of soup being cooked in the kitchen. Sitting up the first thing he could do was rub his forehead, nursing the lingering headache that the noise gave him.

[b "Ah, Imogen, the lad's awake. Fetch him some of t'at soup while its still hot."] Tristan gave Conor a weak smile but the old man's face held a lot of worry, and he was certain it was not just for his well-being. He heard the soft clinking of china dishes as Conor sat across from him in a large stuffed recliner, equally as worn down as the couch from years of use. The old man dug around in his pocket for matches to light his pipe and began fixing it up to smoke, Tristan swallowed the nervous bile that was rising in his throat as he was waiting for Conor to berate him over destroying the bookstore. His eyes were drawn to the local newspapers laid out on the coffee table that stood between them, headlines were all sorts of bad news, blaring loudly in bold black print; Tristan read a few lines absentmindedly, there was so much trouble going on in the world, now more than ever it seemed. Yet Tristan snapped back to the present situation, taking a long breath before he started to speak.

[#007294 "Uncle Conor, listen, about what happened... I-"]

[b "You needn't worry yourself 'bout those customers, we convinced t'em it was a minor earthquake-we get those ev'ry few years or so-common occurrence and all."] Tristan thanked Imogen as she set down a tray with a bowl of steaming hot soup and a cup of tea in front of him on the coffee table. Conor took a few moments of silence as he puffed the strong smelling tobacco which sent smoke swirls up towards the ceiling. [b "The problem we's having is the damages, busted out our shop window; we have t' be honest, ne'er had an employee break the entire front of the shop before."]

Tristan hung his head and his shoulders drooped, toying with the proffered soup with his spoon as he listened to the old man, he mentioned something about Tristan might be able to find work elsewhere and his entire body jolted upright.

[#007294 "Oh, Uncle Conor, please don't send me away! I-I'll pay for it. Everything! I'll help pick up every book, I'll restack all the shelves, I'll even work for no pay until any debt is paid off! Please don't make me leave, I like it here, it feels like home."] He was ready to keep begging, pleading to stay and keep his job, this bookstore was the only place he could come and be at peace, where the blaring noises of the city could not find him, the barrage of telekinetic overload rarely erupted and he was always welcomed by the O'Briens as if he was their own son.

[b "-Alright, lad, alright. You just give us enough t' repair the window, straighten up downstairs and so. We'll keep ye on, sure."]

[center [b ~*~*~]]
Tristan was in the back of the bookstore, all around him books were floating back and forth as he reorganized several sections at once, his control over them was mere child's play to his telekinetic powers, adapted over years of mental practice and concentration, supernatural powers which earned him the code name 'Poltergeist' in his youth. He had others like him, those with abnormal gifts that they used to get rid of crime and put bad people away for good. They were real-life superheroes for a long time until... Tristan shook his head, old memories only bring up old wounds, the group he was with-with all their superpowers had long since separated. Majority just fell apart, and eventually they all left, each for their own reasons and certainly Tristan had his, but those he kept locked away in a mental chest that no longer had a key, sealed in chains fastened tight so that he would never again have to bother with the thought of those memories... and the pain that came with them.

His range of telekinetic powers allowed him to juggle a multitude of things at once as long as he kept sight of them, however, he did have to be cautious if he pushed his limits, usually with too heavy an object-like holding up a falling bridge-that trick he did several years ago when a terrorist bombed out the support beams intent on crushing everyone on and under the bridge. He was able to hold up the suspended roadway long enough for everyone to evacuate to safer ground and then his mind just... shut down. He was in a coma for nearly a whole year after that and learned that he had very strong limitations to his powers.

However, after the split he moved back to his hometown and tried to take work wherever he could get it. The O'Briens knew him from his childhood, how many hours would he spend in the children's section, poring over everything he could get his tiny hands on. He supposed that was why they were more than happy to give him a job, Uncle Conor was getting a touch too old to keep going up and down the stairs from the apartment to the store and needed help with any shipments that came. The best part about the bookstore was hardly anyone came by to shop, most people were more into their electronic devices than a good hardback novel.

Tristan did not mind people, in fact he rather enjoyed being friendly and helpful to others, he just couldn't handle a lot of energy output-psychokinetic energy was everywhere there would be movement or sounds and being tuned into that kind of energy all the time gave him plenty of migraines. He preferred the store's quiet and laid-back atmosphere, it allowed him to keep a clear head which was useful for sorting tasks like he did now. Whole sections were being moved at once, with several books bobbing and floating above his head, whisking by brown locks as he sat flipping lazily through a magazine. He had to have sight of an object only enough to make it move, after that he could direct it mentally without sustaining eye contact, which was very helpful if he had to throw things as projectiles.

Footsteps from the front came shuffling to the back but Tristan did not stop, he knew that ambling walk anywhere. Conor came into the room, carrying a set of crumpled up papers and a large, empty dufflebag. Without giving much of a look up Tristan knew what Conor had found, silently cursing himself for not burning them instead of tossing them in the garbage. They were written letters he had kept between some of his old friends and himself, long after the split he had tried to reach back out-either from loneliness or sorrow-but like everything he seemed to touch things ended up dying quickly, the letters stopped coming or were returned when he sent any. Conversations just stalled and the last remaining touch of friendship laid comatose on white printed paper, stained with blackened ink... When he saw the newspaper headlines he dug through his box of letters, tempting himself to reread them and open the box of secrets inside his mind-yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead they were tossed in the trash where the old man undoubtedly found them, Conor set the duffle bag down on a side table, pointing with the crumpled papers at all the books floating around with unseen hands.

[b "Didn't we talk 'bout this? What if a customer comes back an' sees all t'is?"]

[#007294 "No one ever comes back here. It's quiet, helps me think."]

[b "Oh, aye, but t'at's beside the point. I brang down this bag to help you out on your trip, got it out of my closet this morn. Should hold up well enough."] Tristan set down the magazine and bowed his head.

[#007294 "I'm not goin' anywhere, Uncle Conor."] He jerked his head at the duffle bag and made it move towards the door, the old man sighed and brought it back to the table.

[b "Sure ye are. I know you've 'eard talks about the fights downtown, happenin' in plenty of places so I've been told. These're your friends, the ones ye used to clean up the streets with. I'm sure they'd be mighty happy to see ye after all this time. The world could sorely use your help again, lad."] Tristan's blue eyes lowered sadly to the floor, slumping his shoulders as he sunk down in his chair.

[#007294 "Were-my friends. They don't need me, Uncle Conor... Not anymore..."] Conor gave a sigh, pulling out another chair to sit across from Tristan, there was a crinkling to his eyes, illuminated by the soft yellow glow from the ceiling lights almost made him look sagely, ready to bestow wisdom.

[b "Listen, lad, you can't spend your life tucked away in some rundown bookstore, this..."] He motioned to all Tristan's telekinetic powers, [b "-Is a gift from God himself, an' there's a lot of folks in need of help from people like you. The world's in a bad way, don't you t'ink it's time to come out of hidin'? You might even finally find a bit o' closure if you go, isn't that worth givin' it a try?"]

Closure. It was something that always eluded him since the split of the Keepers, too angry to concede defeat and too stubborn to try again later but maybe the old man was right. Maybe enough time had passed that he could look at things more clearly than before. Was it finally time to open the chest, should he dare? Would he be able to handle it all, at long last? More importantly, what more could he lose?
  Tristan Keane / Osiris / 1d 15h 1m 3s

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