Superhero Backgrounds 2

This is the second of five Superhero Character Backgrounds.

The Gryphon

Anastasia Griffin, top international model, sets her table for two in her Paris apartment. She’s tall with wavy brown hair and dark brown almond shaped eyes. Her face is heart shaped with rounded features and she has a well toned body with a light bronze skin tone. She looks up at the clock, ‘Almost eight o’clock, he should be here by now. Well, Paris is more crowded then it use to be. He’s probably just stuck in traffic.

This past year has been the hardest on my modeling career. I never thought anything could be more important to me than my work. I’ve always had a reputation for extreme sports. You name it, I did it, rock climbing, scuba diving, white water rafting, paintball safari. However, I never missed a shoot or a show until this year. Everyone thinks this is all about Gwen. I guess it is, but not the way they think.

There’s a knock at the door, ‘He’s here. I hope I’m ready for this.’ Stasia nervously goes to the door, takes a deep breath. She opens the door with a smile, “Bonjour, Andrew.” Standing at the door is a middle-aged man. He is dressed well and his hair is in tight fade with copious amounts of gel arranging the sparse strands on top in attempt to hide his impending baldness.

He enters, “I got your text.” his entire demeanor expresses his restrained anger. He looks around at the apartment almost surprised by its cleanliness. “What is this all about?”

Stasia evasively replies, “I picked up some le pain Poi lane today would you care for some? I…”

Andrew cuts her off, “Three months, Stasia! I have been worried sick about you! I haven’t heard from you. I have called everyone! Photographers, designers, the other models, and no one had heard from you. Your assistant said you had her cancel all your modeling gigs and then you sent her on a paid leave of absence…”

“Andrew, please…”

“Don’t ‘Andrew, please’ me! I deserve an explanation.”

“That’s why I asked you here…”

“What is it? Are you burnt out? Tired of fame and success? Or is it me? Do you want a different agent? Is that why you have kept me out?”

“Please, you have been like a father to me…”

“Here we go, stroke the old queens ego with father references.”

“Andrew! I’m trying to explain what’s going on! This is not going to be a short or easy conversation. Would you please go into the kitchen and grab the 1996 La Mondotte. I’ll get the glasses.” After a few minutes they sit down at the table and pour the wine. Stasia touches the older man’s hand, “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” Andrew waits with concerned intrigue. “Do you remember that photo shoot in Iraq four years ago?” Andrew thinks quietly for a moment and then looks up with a puzzled ‘what-made-you-think-of-that’ look on his face.

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Four years ago…

“Where are we going?” Stasia shouts over the sound of the helicopter.

“Nippur. It was an ancient Mesopotamian city southeast of Babylon.” Andrew was always a history-buff and loved these exotic locals.

“OH! Is that in Egypt?” Gisele shouts from the back row.

Stasia turns with a smile, “No honey, Babylon is in southeastern Iraq. They have made amazing discoveries there. I’ll let you borrow my National Geographic.” Gisele smiles back, she knew anyone else would have talked down to her and made her feel stupid but Stasia wasn’t like the other models. Stasia turns back, “Andrew, what is the location and what are we shooting?”

“A new summer line from Loewe,” Andrew fumbles with his palm pilot then looks up again, “The archeologists have found a ziggurat for Enlil the Sumerian storm god. We will feature you around the ruins. Real Indian Jones stuff.”

Three days later the shoot was over. The Iraqi laborers were given a long weekend to prevent them from being upset about the barely dressed American women. Meanwhile, the British archeological team enjoyed the change of scenery. As at the end of most big shoots the models had a party. It wasn’t very large of course, 6 models, Andrew, 4 stuffy old archeologists and their 8 graduate students. Stasia hit it off with one of the grad students and took him out to the dig site to fool around. While they were out there they ran out of champagne and the now very drunk young scientist left to bring back more. He had been gone awhile when Stasia decided to return by herself.

She got turned around in the dark mostly due to the large amounts of champagne. She stumbled into a huge semi underground chamber. The chamber entrance had statues of two enormous creatures each with the head, wings, and forelegs of an eagle and the tail and hindquarters of a lion. She had not seen this area of the dig before. While stumbling in the dark she slipped and her hand was cut on a jagged rock. Despite her efforts her hand bled a lot! As her blood splatter on the floor, the darkened temple began to illuminate with a strange blue light. As the temple grew brighter, she could see statues, cravings, and paintings of a the Sumerian storm god and his strange part eagle and part lion guardians.

Suddenly, the lights in the temple dimmed and a single beam of light shots forth from the altar. The beam animated an image of a Middle Eastern man in a turban, with a tightly braided long beard, wearing overlapping plate body armor, and a pair of enormous wings; it was the Sumerian storm god, Enlil. The image began to move and speak almost like a hologram. Stasia felt she heard more of the message in her head then by her ears. It spoke in what sounded Aramaic. Stasia could not understand a word of it. She tried to remember some of the words but it was hard to concentrate with the intoxication and exhaustion working against her. She passed out and awoke the next morning in her in her motor home. Andrew exploded into the motor home ranting about irresponsibility, scorpions, and of course his typical “I’m going to have a nervous breakdown” speech.

She thought, “Ah, Andrew’s post party/pre departure anxiety attack, just what my hang over needed.”

5 days of planes, trains, and automobiles and she is back in her Paris apartment. She’s ready for the first night in a bed since she left Iraq. Soon as her head hits her Scandia Down pillows she is asleep.

The worst pain she has ever been in! Stasia was sound asleep, now she is on the floor on her hands and knees, back arched towards the ceiling, being racked with pain. She can hear her Julianna Rae chemise being ripped apart! She looks over at the her full length standing mirror to see her back is a bloody mess as a pair of white feathered wings slowly and painfully bud from her back. Her fingernails crack, split, and fall off as bird like talons burst forth on each finger. Her legs become covered in tough yellowish tan fur. She watches in the mirror as the muscles on her body enlarge and become more defined. Her face is unchanged except her hair has doubled in length almost instantaneously. With the transformation complete, the pain begins to subside, Stasia stands in front the mirror staring at the creature she has become and the words of Enlil return to her memory as clear as crystal.

“I am Enlil. My time in this world is over. I bestow my final gift to the descendent of my high priest Akkad Ku-Baba. You who have sought my temple even after my entrance to the underworld, I give to you the power of my greatest creation. Though this power is yours to possess, it is not for you alone. I give this to you as a weapon to fight injustice, to defend the weak, and to punish wicked. This is my last act of kindness to this my once beloved world. With the strength of the Gryphon, no evil will escape your judgment! Ma'a Salama, child of Akkad Ku-Baba.”

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Andrew, deep into his third glass and pouring a refill, “What happened then?”

“Well, I freaked. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want it and didn’t know what to do with it. I…”

“Wait! You’re telling me you are The Gryphon! You have been Paris’ mysterious defender that has been all over the cover of Le Monde for months?”

“Well, I…”

“That was you on the news that almost died breaking up that human trafficking ring in Luxembourg last week?” Andrew looks panicked. Stasia cuts her eyes to the left and down with a blush of embarrassment. Andrew puts his head in his hands, “I think I’m going to be sick!”

“I’m helping people, really helping people. I think I’m going to go full time with this.” Her old mentor, the veteran of the fashion world, sits unresponsive with worry. “Andrew, look at this.” Stasia pulls an invitation out of a tiny purse on the table. “It’s from the Justice League. I’m to be at their Los Angeles embassy by Saturday and I want you to come with me. Andrew… I need your help.”

Andrew smiles and nods, “Ok… but I’m not wearing tights.”

Superhero Backgrounds

This is the first of five Superhero Character Backgrounds.

APE-X

It’s the same nightmare as before.

‘The gun shots and flames, my mother screaming, tell me to run. She’s fallen down, she’s not getting up. I cry out, “Mommy!” I have to help her! They are all around us. Who has me? Some one has grabbed me up! Oh no! It’s one of them!’

I wake in a sweat. I’m safe in my bed. That terrible night my mother was murdered was over 20 years ago. But why have the nightmares begun again?

I don’t remember a lot after my mother’s death. I remember a ride in a truck and then a long boat voyage. Everything was a blur of grief and depression.

Just outside of the small Texas town of Port Lavaca was corporate laboratory for Boris & Ursa Aviation Technologies that was supposedly doing aviation research for NASA. However, the truth had more to do with genetic engineering, cloning, and several other illegal science explorations. Nearly 87% of the building’s structure was under ground giving it the illusion of medium size three story office building to any passersby.

Inside in this building was a division titled MAA (Metazoan Adaptation Assessment). This was the wing were I was kept with several other species of primates. Our cages were alphabetized and then numbered with roman numerals. I was one of the first inmates in this torture chamber. I was called Apex or Specimen 10 depending on which lab-coat was handling me at the time.

They were altering our DNA structure trying to create a human-ape hybrid. To this day, I don’t know what they were altering us for but I’m sure it had something to do with military or dangerous space exploration from all the flight simulators they put us in. The torture went on for years and though many of my inmate companions died, the scientist had incredible success with their Molecular Biology research.

The only other gorilla was GeeVee, which is what they called him because he was in cage G 5. They called him my brother, I do not know if we are truly related or just both orphans of Rwanda’s poaching industry. He was always the most violent and angry of all of us, every night he would shake the door to his cage. It became so bad they had to place multiple locks on his door. I think the anger was because he was older then me when he was captured. He was the first of us to start vocalizing words. After he began to speak they put him through horribly painful tests. After this he, with his now human like intelligence, was bent towards revenge. His thoughts frightened me and I tried to block them out.

As the handful of survivors, including me, began to graduate to the next level they made their fatal mistake, they brought in Doctor Kadambini Ganguli. She was a petite woman from Chennai, India. She commanded the attention of a room with her silent penetrating gaze through her modest eye glasses. She was a leader in animal behavior specializing in apes. They thought she would help us transition better as communication was now being introduced. Instead she brought questions about our treatment, the purpose of the research, legal matters, and most importantly humane treatment of the animals in their care. They thought they could control her and they were wrong.

We immediately connected. Doctor Ganguli was the first person that cared about me since my mother died. We began with sign language. I played along. I felt I could trust her but wasn’t completely sure. Months past and the health of all of us improved. However, the geneticists’ researched slowed as they were no longer able to treat us like lab rats.

Threats of funding cuts started coming from higher up. A couple of the lab techs took it upon themselves to put things back to the way it was before Doctor Ganguli came. That night the lab techs left a few of GeeVee’s cage locks open and didn’t give him his evening sedative. It may take an hour but eventually GeeVee would open his door while Doctor Ganguli was alone in the lab. They hoped it would scare her off or worse, either way they would have job security.

I remember that night very clearly. We had just finished our sign language sessions. I wanted to tell her. Tell her I was telepathic. Tell her I was a prisoner. Tell her I had developed feelings for her. Feelings I needed her to help me understand. I never got the chance. She gave me my nightly sedative and as I began to loose consciousness GeeVee leaped from the second level of cages and began beating on her. I heard her screams and the echo of my mother’s screams mingled with hers. I fought through the sedative. I tried to stop him. I rendered him unconscious but it was too late. The exertion of my powers made me unable to fight the drugs and I feel asleep.

When I awoke I was in my cage with Doctor Ganguli’s broken body in my arms. GeeVee sat grinning securely in his cage starring in anticipation from across the lab. Still recovering from the shot and trying to clear my mind, the lab techs enter. There is shouting as they grab the cattle prod like high-powered tazers. I realize GeeVee has set me up and he laughs and beats his chest as the realization sweeps across my face. I know this is my only chance and I mentally blast the two lab techs and flee the lab. GeeVee bursts into a rage when he remembers he reset his cage locks to ensure he was not suspected of the murder. He never imagined I would escape his trap.

That was all ten years ago. I still visit her grave when I can.

In those seven years I used my powers to manipulate 2 mega-ball lotteries and collecting the winnings under aliases. I used this money to create a life for myself. I purchased everything from my estate to my custom hummer online. I managed my stocks online. In two years, I obtained a doctorate in psychology online from an Ivy League school. I hired the best tutors to help me master my mental powers, again online, with one way webcam-ing. I played with the idea of becoming an online professor when I heard the news, “PETA Activist free lab animals in Port Lavaca, Texas”. GeeVee was at large and with his mad murderous mind who knew what kind of chaos he would unleash. My comfortable life style would have to wait until I put that animal back in a zoo where he belonged.

That was three years ago. After defeating GeeVee, other villains crossed my path and soon being a professor was a distant memory as I found myself as a full time crime fighter. Now, I have this invitation from the Justice League and an appointment in Los Angeles at 3 am tomorrow. I’ve never been part of a team before, but I’m doing it for you, Kadambini.

A slight detour to a galaxy far far away!

I am taking my friends on a slight detour. We are on hiatus due to my son’s recent birth. I wanted to take a dip in some different campaign settings. So far Star Wars and Superheroes have had the biggest response. I am hoping this detour may lead to a new favorite campaign or make us appreciate our Palladium campaign and want to return to it.

After asking what race and class everyone wanted to play in Star Wars, I created the characters and their backgrounds. Here they are…


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Few wookiees leave their home world of Kashyyyk by choice, Jowrhynn is no exception. Trandoshan slavers often raid Kashyyyk to capture wookiees. Jowrhynn defended his clan bravely but in the end was subdued and sold into slavery.

For 2 years, he was a gladiator in a Hutt crime lord’s arena. During a gang war between his owner and another crime family he managed to escape. For the next 12 years he worked as a mercenary, body guard, and repo-man. As imperial oppression choked the galaxy it became harder and harder to make a living as an independent soldier.

During a mission to recover property from an aristocrat due to a delinquent debt, Jowrhynn had his first experience with the “real” side of the empire. The aristocrat called in a favor and an imp sergeant and his stormtroopers interrupted the repo job. Jowrhynn and his team were beaten and arrested for theft. Jowrhynn was going quietly hoping his cooperation would help him at trial. Then he overheard the sergeant tell the stormtroopers to load them up and take them to Orvax. Jowrhynn had never forgotten Orvax. It was the first planet he had ever been to after he was take from Kashyyyk. Orvax is the slave marketplace to the galaxy. Jowrhynn would rather die then be enslaved again and in a moment of desperation and rage he killed two stormtroopers and fled.

Now a wanted criminal by the Empire, Jowrhynn’s last hope for freedom and justice lies with joining the Rebel Alliance.
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Guy Devarian never knew his parents, Dad left before he was born and Mom died when he was young. He was raised by his Uncle Bellomi. Uncle Bellomi was an independent freighter pilot with his own Corellian YT-2400, The Lighting Nebula VI. He did mostly cargo transporting but from time to time would take on passengers.

Uncle Bellomi was always more like a best friend then an uncle to Guy. Uncle Bellomi never tried to hide his smuggling work from him growing up. When Guy was preteen he practiced a dangerous game of pick pocketing while at the different spaceports they would visit.

As Guy grew into adolescence, he became more attentive at Uncle Belome's "business" dealings. For years, Guy silently watched the intricate dance of negotiation between his Uncle and the "client". More then once, he saw his Uncle get the short end of a deal because he didn't see through the client's front. Finally, Guy couldn't take it and as he began to see another deal going in the direction of less pay, he spoke up. At first Uncle Belome, was startled and as Guy began to haggle with the client he started to become angry, fearing he was going to lose the deal. Then, all of sudden, the client caved-in and offered more money. Uncle Belome was overjoyed when they left the cantina. Soon Guy became invaluable at negotiations. His friendly laidback demeanor made even the hardest of underworld figures feel relaxed and willing to be reasonable. It wasn't long before Guy began working almost all of their contacts and brought in so much work they always had a "run" lined up. Work was steady and the times were good for them. They grew in popularity as sought after smugglers. They were even saving up for Guy to get his own ship.

Uncle Bellomi was approached by a hooded stranger in a cantina on Centerpoint Space Station in the Core. The deal seemed pretty straight forward, delivering some crates and the offer was fair, nothing suspicious, so he agreed. The dealing was so quick and easy he forgot to even mention it to Guy. They arrived on Vorzyd 5 on the Outer Rim three weeks later.

Guy headed to the casinos to drum up their next run and Uncle Bellomi heads to the drop off with the crates from Centerpoint. Two hours have past since Guy returned from the casino and Uncle Bellomi is still not back. Guy began searching the heavily urban area for signs of Uncle Bellomi.

It had been 2 days, Guy asked around, offered reward credits, and even made some bribes, but no one knew anything about his uncle. As the second day was ending, Guy spotted Uncle Bellomi’s jacket on a homeless person. Guy roughed up the bum but the bum told him he found it in a dumpster. Guy found Uncle Bellomi’s datapad, comlink, and his holo-recorder in the hidden coat pocket. When Guy returned to The Lighting Nebula VI, his uncle’s murder was all on the holo-recorder. He could see the face of his uncles attacker but it was a woman and she called her self the “Emperor’s Hand”. She ignited some kind of “energy sword” and cut Uncle Bellomi down. Guy didn’t know who she was, what that weapon was called, or what an Emperor’s Hand is, but if the empire killed his uncle they were going to pay. Guy sought out the rebellion and used all his skills and contacts to aid the cause.

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Remei has been working on droids since she was 7 years old. Her parents were deep space explorers. They would be out for months between ports charting new hyperspace lanes. Remi had no siblings or pets so she spent a lot of time with the ship’s R5 Astromech droid. R5C7 lead her to an old NR5 maintenance droid in the ships cargo bay. Under R5C7’s tutelage Remi began tinkering with the long disabled NR5. Her parents were so pleased when she repaired the NR5 they began to encourage her interest in droids. After a while, every port they stopped in, Remi would pick up droid parts, manuals, even complete but broken droids. By 18, Remi has more experience with Droids then most freelance droid engineers on any core world.

Her parents’ ship went missing a few years back. Remei knew as deep space explorers it was a hard truth that one day they would get lost or worse out there in the black. She made a life for herself on Muunilinst on the Outer Rim. She opened a small droid repair shop with her old astromech R5C7. Then the imperials came. They asked her a lot of questions about her parents, the work they did, and their connection to the rebel alliance. When she didn’t know anything about them working for the rebels, they got rough and wrecked her shop. Then they learned that R5C7 was her parents’ droid, they confiscated him.
It was months and no one could tell her what happened to R5C7. The day before she was leaving Muunilinst, at the spaceport she saw a black and white imperial R5 unit but imperials don’t manufacture R5 units. That night before her ship took off, she shot the R5 unit with an ion gun and dragged the unconscious droid on board. It was R5C7, his memory had been wiped. Luckily, she had backup-ed his mind 6 months prior to the imps showing up. Now there was only one course action seek out the Rebel Alliance and find out the truth about her parents.
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Tekba was a legitimate freighter pilot. It wasn’t glamorous but it paid well and he enjoyed the constant space travel. Imperial inspections were nothing new to him, in fact it would be a surprise if the imp officer didn’t crack open a crate and “confiscate” a couple of bottles of Corellian wine, pair of clothing, or whatever he was hauling. He loved the raw material loads, almost guaranteed nothing would be “confiscated”. But things with the imperials starting getting worse, a bottle or two became a case or two, and then they started taking full crates. Soon Tekba was paying more in lost cargo fees then he was getting paid for the run.

He remembers the morning he got up to go to his new job as a pilot on a personnel transport ship. It meant better pay, same route everyday, cleaner, safer, and best of all no lost cargo fees. He put on his uniform and turned on the news. He was half way through his morning coffee when he heard, “Mon Calamari secedes from the Empire.” He was shocked. The news said Mon Calamari had released an official statement explaining their actions, “To the citizens of the Republic…” the news feed went dead. Tekba found himself paralyzed in front of the screen. He had to know why, why his home world would take such a dangerous course. 3 minutes, a whole 3 minutes had past. What is happening?

Suddenly, the news came on with a different anchorman. He wasn’t any reporter Tekba had seen before and he was wearing a military press uniform. The stern face human explained that Mon Calamari’s government has been infiltrated by terrorist. He read a statement from the Emperor’s high command vowing to rescue the Mon Calamari people from this false regime. He went on to say the statement that was about to be read was interrupted because imperial intelligence suspects it is a coded message meant to activate terrorist cells throughout the Empire.

As the broadcast ended Tekba’s new job called and told him not to come in, he was fired. Later, he learned Mon Calamaris all over the empire were being laid off. Then the hate crimes started, every Mon Calamari was a suspected terrorist. Within weeks of that broadcast, they started rounding up Mon Calamaris in the core and taking them to a secret relocation camp for their safety. Tekba was hours from reporting to the spaceport to be taken to the relocation camps when a friend of his came to his apartment and told him he heard from a rebel agent that the “relocation camp” is in fact the mining prison on Kessel! Tekba decides to put his piloting skills to use for the Rebel Alliance in hopes of saving his people.
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Manfando was a famous and well respected doctor and surgeon. Later in his career he led a non-for profit medical team of some of the most brilliant doctors in the galaxy. They provided vaccines, surgeries, and physical therapy to beings throughout the galaxy for free or little cost. When Manfando wasn’t making house calls to over a dozen planets, he was gathering support and funding from wealthy core worlds. Thanks to the generous contributions from noble families on core planets such as Alderaan, Manfando’s work was possible. Out of no where the imperial government contacted Manfando and his team to find a cure to the disease that has ravaged the people of Altora for over a decade. They assured full funding in exchange for this being Manfando’s primary project.

As an Ithorian, he looked on in painful disgust as the signs of the wholesale rape of the planet’s natural resources were everywhere. This once lush world had been mined and polluted to the brink of destruction. The worst was yet to be revealed. Manfando and his team arrived at the central “hospital” to find a filthy house of the dieing being run by a handful of incompetent imperial medical interns. They explained that the disease only affects the Altora people and after months of agony it turns fatal.

Three years later, a cure is eminent though not yet found. The treatment has brought the death toll down considerably. For the first time since his arrival Manfando has hope that the Altora people will survive. Suddenly, the planetary news reports an earthquake on the southern continent at the site of the main mining facility, millions die in the first moments of the quake and hundreds of thousands more are missing in the rubble and collapsed mines. Manfando and his team ready themselves to deploy for disaster relief when they are ordered back to their hospital to continue research on the cure.

Months pass as the news increases the number of dead by the hour. Manfando is told by some Altora locals that imperial ships have been decommissioning mining facilities all over the planet. As the mines shut down, the Altora people are being sent home and residential areas are becoming quickly over populated. Manfando knows the situation is ripe for a fresh outbreak of the disease. As Manfando attempts to ask for additional help, the empire informs him that his funding is being cut. He is told plainly that the empire’s long-term investment in Altora has come to completion now that it is no longer economic to mine there.

Without the necessary funding for research, a cure is impossible. Manfando and his team leave to seek private funding from the galactic community. However, educating the imperial citizens on the Altorian people’s plight takes time. Once the funds were finally raised, imperial red tape slowed their return further. It was 18 months before they return.

Manfando’s ship touched down on a planet size graveyard. He and his crew spent weeks searching for survivors. What they found instead was that the disease was a direct result of the imperials strip mining this planet and like a well planned murder they left no witnesses.

Several of Manfando’s team left to show their findings to the imperial senate but their ship had an “accident” while entering orbit on Coruscant and all on board were lost. Manfando went into hiding then joined the Rebels swearing justice for the death of his friends and the Altora people.