Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2014 20:26:34 GMT -5
Basic Information
Player Nickname: Drake
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Which DCU Earth are you applying to?: Earth-1
Character Origin: Comics. Some thematic elements for aesthetics but thats it.
Face Claim's Name: Stephen Amell
Name: Oliver Queen
Alias: Green Arrow
Race: Human
Age: 28
Alignment: Neutral Good
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 195 lbs
Hair:
Blonde
Eyes:
Green
Physique: Medium build with chiseled features, muscular but still able to be acrobatic and quick.
Training: Martial Arts: Judo, Kickboxing and Karate. Archery, Acrobatics, Aviation, Cooking, Hunting, Politics and Swordmanship.
Equipment: Custom Bow, Quiver, Trick Arrows, Katana
Powers / Abilities
Acrobatics - Highly agile and acrobatic, he often uses this in conjunction with his fighting style to evade enemy fire and attacks.
Archer - Lauded as one of the finest, if not the finest, archer on the planet, he can fire up to 29 arrows a minute and has amazing accuracy with them.
Aviation - An accomplished pilot, but not a skill worth noting other than a means of conveyance.
Martial Arts - Judo, Karate, Kickboxing, along with training from Natas, the same person that trained Deathstroke. Expert hand to hand combatant.
Hunting- Having to survive on a 'deserted' island for a long period of time he has become adept enough to be able to stalk a cougar without it noticing his presence.
Politics - Oliver ran for mayor in his home town and won, becoming the mayor for quite a long while. He has since stepped down, but still has ties to the political community and still puts forth effort in its interest.
Swordsmanship- An accomplished swordsman, it isn't his main weapon, but he is still remarkably proficient with it due to his training. He's been able to best Jason Todd with it, and has knocked arrows out of the air with it as well.
Character Time Line
2 years.
Year 1 (2013)
(Keep these brief and treat them like bullet points.)
-Crash landed on a desert Island
-Struggled and then excelled at surviving on it.
-Escaped the island after overthrowing the drug runners stationed there.
Year 2 (2014)
-Returns home to Star City
-Sets up shop as the Green Arrow
-Gathers a tech-team to help with his vigilante activities.
-Helps Queen Industries profit more with new ideas, such as the Q-Pad.
Audition post
The jungles surrounding area was eerily quiet for him, bare feet resting on a thick branch with sunlight being scattered through the various breaks in the treeline above him. Crouched, perfectly still and silent, the bow strapped across his back came to slide down the length of his arm, not a whisper being given as his right hand reached up and withdrew a single arrow. Ahead of him, approximately fifty or so feet was a wild boar, the animal rooting around in the ground with its tusks in search of what it hoped would be tubers or even roots. Nocking the arrow he would take a slow and steadying breath, pulling back on the string and letting muscle memory take over, his eyes focused on the prize ahead, fingers gripping the arrow between his index and middle fingers second knuckles. He released the arrow, the silent killer sailing through the air and stroking the boar in the side, between its ribs and piercing directly into its heart, the broad head of the arrow taking care of the rest of the work as the heart muscle shredded itself by pumping. It squealed and took off into the dense underbrush.
Following after his kill wasn't hard, the blood trail was easy to spot as it dotted the ground here and there, was swiped over leaves and tree roots, and the erratic foot prints were clear as day to the trained eyes of Oliver Queen. His time on the island hadn't been easy, but he'd adjusted quickly. The first few days were killer. No alcohol, no water, no food, and sunburnt to a degree that he thought he would die from the blisters that layered his skin. But as time went on he got better. He'd started to hunt, had made a distillery for his water so that he wouldn't be wracked with dysentery, and had found enough cloth from an abandoned village to cover his shoulders and head from the overbearing sun ahead. His body had transformed as well, slowly becoming more lean and wiry, able to handle the vigors and stresses of life on the island. In a few short months he reigned supreme on his section of the island, able to do as he pleased and finding himself, for the first time in his life...to be happy.
Snapping out of his reverie, he could see a section of the jungle up ahead that was compressed down, as if something had fallen there and was refusing to move. Sneaking up on it, he would take to the trees once more, scurrying up onto a branch and peaking his head around the corner. He knew the boars were notorious for their death throes just before they kicked the bucket and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of those large gleaming tusks. "Law of the jungle...kill or be killed" he whispered to himself, almost solemnly as the animals eyes finally glazed over and it fell still. It hadn't lashed out, nothing was near it that would set it off like that. The arrow, decorated with a parrots feather as the fletching was noticeable even from the distance he was at. He was about to make his move towards it, but something rustled in the jungle. Something he hadn't heard since he'd been on the island. Human voices.
Keeping his back pressed against the trunk of the tree, out of sight and out of mind he could smell something floating through the air as well. Cigar smoke, sweat that was polluted by various refridgerated and frozen meals, and something akin to gun oil. His eyes narrowed slightly beneath the hooded covering that was pulled over his head and he crouched down a bit lower, as a trio of men burst in through the underbrush, having heard the squeals of the pig no doubt and come to investigate. They pointed excitedly and then glanced around before breaking into a rapid fire sort of speech between themselves. Rushing forwards they each grabbed a limb and tried to hoist the kill up into the air, but found that it was too awkward for that. 'Morons. Cut it up, make a sled, or a sling to carry it behind you...' he thought bitterly as they sullied his kill with their filthy hands.
Deciding to take the initiative, to fight for what was rightfully his instead of backpedaling and running away, as he'd done so many other times in his life, he shot forwards and leapt off of the branch that he was on. A slight rustle was all that he'd made, and they hadn't noticed quite yet. Each had been armed with an AK-47, and a large belt filled with magazines for them. Sailing through the air, he would tuck both of his legs up, pointing his knees forwards and spreading his thighs apart slightly. Each point found their way into the a spine, right between the shoulder blades as he impacted with the men hard. Sending them tumbling forwards, having knocked the breath from their lungs and sending them into the underbrush face first, he had only one more man to deal with. And a gun was being leveled at him quickly.
A small ounce of panic shot through his frame, giving his muscles the adrenaline dump they needed and primed them for movement. He ducked to the side, rolling quickly as he came up onto one knee. The rapid fire staccato burst of gunfire assailed his ears, much louder than he'd remembered them sounding as he continued to roll away. He shot back up and dashed behind a large tree as bullets chewed through the trunk of it quickly, and he slammed his back against the large obstacle, taking a deep breath. Bringing an arrow from his quiver, he would nock it and draw back half-way, keeping the tension tight and waiting for his perfect shot. Then it came, the click that signified the gun was empty or had jammed. Judging by the bullets that littered the ground it was empty, even as the man fumbled for another magazine.
Stepping out from behind the tree, he would take aim and loose the arrow towards his shooter, the shaft sailing forwards and sinking the tip into the mans hand, effectively stapling it against his torso as a blood curdling scream ripped free from his mouth. He drew back another arrow as the man started to dash away from him, screaming and hollering as if he was trying to rouse the whole island. "Oh God will you just shut up?!" he hissed and loosed another arrow, the point burying into the mans kneecap and sending him sprawling forwards. The angle that he fell and the way his arm was tucked up and stapled to his body made sure that his skull smacked into a large tree root on the way down, knocking him out cold in the process. "No one steals from me in my jungle."
Player Nickname: Drake
Do you want other role players to give you feed back? Love feedback. As long as it's constructive.
Which DCU Earth are you applying to?: Earth-1
Character Origin: Comics. Some thematic elements for aesthetics but thats it.
Face Claim's Name: Stephen Amell
Name: Oliver Queen
Alias: Green Arrow
Race: Human
Age: 28
Alignment: Neutral Good
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 195 lbs
Hair:
Blonde
Eyes:
Green
Physique: Medium build with chiseled features, muscular but still able to be acrobatic and quick.
Training: Martial Arts: Judo, Kickboxing and Karate. Archery, Acrobatics, Aviation, Cooking, Hunting, Politics and Swordmanship.
Equipment: Custom Bow, Quiver, Trick Arrows, Katana
Powers / Abilities
Acrobatics - Highly agile and acrobatic, he often uses this in conjunction with his fighting style to evade enemy fire and attacks.
Archer - Lauded as one of the finest, if not the finest, archer on the planet, he can fire up to 29 arrows a minute and has amazing accuracy with them.
Aviation - An accomplished pilot, but not a skill worth noting other than a means of conveyance.
Martial Arts - Judo, Karate, Kickboxing, along with training from Natas, the same person that trained Deathstroke. Expert hand to hand combatant.
Hunting- Having to survive on a 'deserted' island for a long period of time he has become adept enough to be able to stalk a cougar without it noticing his presence.
Politics - Oliver ran for mayor in his home town and won, becoming the mayor for quite a long while. He has since stepped down, but still has ties to the political community and still puts forth effort in its interest.
Swordsmanship- An accomplished swordsman, it isn't his main weapon, but he is still remarkably proficient with it due to his training. He's been able to best Jason Todd with it, and has knocked arrows out of the air with it as well.
Character Time Line
2 years.
Year 1 (2013)
(Keep these brief and treat them like bullet points.)
-Crash landed on a desert Island
-Struggled and then excelled at surviving on it.
-Escaped the island after overthrowing the drug runners stationed there.
Year 2 (2014)
-Returns home to Star City
-Sets up shop as the Green Arrow
-Gathers a tech-team to help with his vigilante activities.
-Helps Queen Industries profit more with new ideas, such as the Q-Pad.
Audition post
The jungles surrounding area was eerily quiet for him, bare feet resting on a thick branch with sunlight being scattered through the various breaks in the treeline above him. Crouched, perfectly still and silent, the bow strapped across his back came to slide down the length of his arm, not a whisper being given as his right hand reached up and withdrew a single arrow. Ahead of him, approximately fifty or so feet was a wild boar, the animal rooting around in the ground with its tusks in search of what it hoped would be tubers or even roots. Nocking the arrow he would take a slow and steadying breath, pulling back on the string and letting muscle memory take over, his eyes focused on the prize ahead, fingers gripping the arrow between his index and middle fingers second knuckles. He released the arrow, the silent killer sailing through the air and stroking the boar in the side, between its ribs and piercing directly into its heart, the broad head of the arrow taking care of the rest of the work as the heart muscle shredded itself by pumping. It squealed and took off into the dense underbrush.
Following after his kill wasn't hard, the blood trail was easy to spot as it dotted the ground here and there, was swiped over leaves and tree roots, and the erratic foot prints were clear as day to the trained eyes of Oliver Queen. His time on the island hadn't been easy, but he'd adjusted quickly. The first few days were killer. No alcohol, no water, no food, and sunburnt to a degree that he thought he would die from the blisters that layered his skin. But as time went on he got better. He'd started to hunt, had made a distillery for his water so that he wouldn't be wracked with dysentery, and had found enough cloth from an abandoned village to cover his shoulders and head from the overbearing sun ahead. His body had transformed as well, slowly becoming more lean and wiry, able to handle the vigors and stresses of life on the island. In a few short months he reigned supreme on his section of the island, able to do as he pleased and finding himself, for the first time in his life...to be happy.
Snapping out of his reverie, he could see a section of the jungle up ahead that was compressed down, as if something had fallen there and was refusing to move. Sneaking up on it, he would take to the trees once more, scurrying up onto a branch and peaking his head around the corner. He knew the boars were notorious for their death throes just before they kicked the bucket and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of those large gleaming tusks. "Law of the jungle...kill or be killed" he whispered to himself, almost solemnly as the animals eyes finally glazed over and it fell still. It hadn't lashed out, nothing was near it that would set it off like that. The arrow, decorated with a parrots feather as the fletching was noticeable even from the distance he was at. He was about to make his move towards it, but something rustled in the jungle. Something he hadn't heard since he'd been on the island. Human voices.
Keeping his back pressed against the trunk of the tree, out of sight and out of mind he could smell something floating through the air as well. Cigar smoke, sweat that was polluted by various refridgerated and frozen meals, and something akin to gun oil. His eyes narrowed slightly beneath the hooded covering that was pulled over his head and he crouched down a bit lower, as a trio of men burst in through the underbrush, having heard the squeals of the pig no doubt and come to investigate. They pointed excitedly and then glanced around before breaking into a rapid fire sort of speech between themselves. Rushing forwards they each grabbed a limb and tried to hoist the kill up into the air, but found that it was too awkward for that. 'Morons. Cut it up, make a sled, or a sling to carry it behind you...' he thought bitterly as they sullied his kill with their filthy hands.
Deciding to take the initiative, to fight for what was rightfully his instead of backpedaling and running away, as he'd done so many other times in his life, he shot forwards and leapt off of the branch that he was on. A slight rustle was all that he'd made, and they hadn't noticed quite yet. Each had been armed with an AK-47, and a large belt filled with magazines for them. Sailing through the air, he would tuck both of his legs up, pointing his knees forwards and spreading his thighs apart slightly. Each point found their way into the a spine, right between the shoulder blades as he impacted with the men hard. Sending them tumbling forwards, having knocked the breath from their lungs and sending them into the underbrush face first, he had only one more man to deal with. And a gun was being leveled at him quickly.
A small ounce of panic shot through his frame, giving his muscles the adrenaline dump they needed and primed them for movement. He ducked to the side, rolling quickly as he came up onto one knee. The rapid fire staccato burst of gunfire assailed his ears, much louder than he'd remembered them sounding as he continued to roll away. He shot back up and dashed behind a large tree as bullets chewed through the trunk of it quickly, and he slammed his back against the large obstacle, taking a deep breath. Bringing an arrow from his quiver, he would nock it and draw back half-way, keeping the tension tight and waiting for his perfect shot. Then it came, the click that signified the gun was empty or had jammed. Judging by the bullets that littered the ground it was empty, even as the man fumbled for another magazine.
Stepping out from behind the tree, he would take aim and loose the arrow towards his shooter, the shaft sailing forwards and sinking the tip into the mans hand, effectively stapling it against his torso as a blood curdling scream ripped free from his mouth. He drew back another arrow as the man started to dash away from him, screaming and hollering as if he was trying to rouse the whole island. "Oh God will you just shut up?!" he hissed and loosed another arrow, the point burying into the mans kneecap and sending him sprawling forwards. The angle that he fell and the way his arm was tucked up and stapled to his body made sure that his skull smacked into a large tree root on the way down, knocking him out cold in the process. "No one steals from me in my jungle."
