CASKET - Plymouth Weir

CASKET - Plymouth Weir Sept 3, 2017 23:23:23 GMT -6

Post by NITE OWL on Sept 3, 2017 23:23:23 GMT -6

Plymouth Weir

HERO

PLAY BY
Michael Paré

RESIDENCE
Jersey City, Utica Street, across from Saint Peters Cemetery. An inherited property that used to be a Repair Shop called the 'Fire Station', due to the fact that it was once a Fire Hall.

FAME / INFAMY
New York & New Jersey, along the East Coast.

LIVELIHOOD
Sole Proprietor of 'Arcane Security Systems'. Plays gigs on the side - stage name, 'Slate Blue'.

CASKET

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

HEIGHT: 6 Foot 3 Inches | WEIGHT: 230 LBS | AGE: 33 YEARS |
NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY: Irish American
COLOURATIONS: PIGMENT: Florid Pale | HAIR: Coal Black
EYES: Violet (Wears blue contacts to conceal)

Plymouth is above average height and built like a heavy weight boxer on steroids. With his coal black hair, bright blue eyes (contacts) and pale skin, he’s an Irish stereotype; chiseled features and rigid square jaw casting a handsome silhouette. He usually dresses casually, jeans, boots, stylish shirt and leather jacket. If required, he’ll throw on a blazer, but he’s not one to dress-up, not if he can help it.

When his powers are required an ornate round black tattoo covering his chest and abdomen appears. This is the Grigori Sigil of Gadreel. Depending upon the stress of his actions the symbol may glow red, like the flickering embers of a dying fire.

COSTUME & EQUIPMENT

Casket is known for his simple grey attire. A trench coat, boots and nondescript, rugged clothing, all void of colour. To obscure his identity he wears a mask over the lower portion of his face, leaving his vivid violet coloured eyes and dark hair exposed. He carries two Beretta’s, a Gurkha knife and a retractable metal whip.

The guns are customized. No serial numbers. No discerning markings. Untraceable.

The whip is non-magnetic - comprised of titanium and has a twenty-five foot range. It is tipped with three folding prongs that form a grappling hook, allowing him to use the whip as a climbing and swinging tool. When not being used it folds up into an fourteen inch long, three in diameter rod. The weapon is magically initiated, only Plymouth knowing how to will the commands, initiating it to retract and extend, or even flex like bamboo allowing him to use it as a spring if it’s tip is embedded in a wall. The idea for the useful instrument is loosely based on an old security design for barring exits, which was deemed too deadly.

PERSONALITY

If one character trait stands out for Plymouth it’s abrasive. He’s brutally honest, judgemental and often, single-minded. Relationships are liabilities so he keeps everyone at a distance, he rarely contacts his surviving family, keeping tabs on them from afar. Being a crime-fighter isn’t just a path he’s chosen, it’s what he is, and anyone that get’s close to him will be put at risk. He won’t take responsibility for that and so, he keeps to himself, forming only shallow connections with the people in his life.

Plymouth doesn’t take any shit and rarely walks away from a fight. He’s easy to bait and it’s this trait that often gets him in hot water but every so often he surprises people and himself by turning the other cheek, if only to beat the crap out of them later. Basically if he’s sure he’s right, Plymouth isn’t going to back down. The principle outweighs all other logic in his mind, which is why he’s so single-minded while on the hunt. His world is black and white, break the law and be judged. Murder and die, but he isn’t all doom and gloom. Plymouth enjoys his music and performing for a crowd. When he’s on stage nothing else in that moment seems to matter, he’s completely free and in that state that his other side become visible. The passionate side, the man of honour, the protector. Deep down, Plymouth’s a saviour, he want’s only to keep the world safe and safeguard the innocent, they do exist, and he knows who they are.

Raised Catholic, Plymouth goes to Sunday services and tries to pay respect to those values but it’s difficult when those rules were specifically made for ‘Men & Women’, while he is neither, he’s something else. This detachment further isolates him from the people he guards, rather than a person he’s a means to an end, and he accepts that.

POWERS

SUPER-STRENGTH
Plymouth possesses a ‘rise to the occasion’ form of strength. Normally, he hovers around the 500 LB shoulder press category, formidable, but when required his strength can significantly increase to the point where he can hold a bus above his head, perhaps more. Naturally, with this strength comes great resilience, denser muscles and bones, an increased healing factor. He’s able to run at speeds approaching 50 KMPH, stride across fifty foot gaps and leap as high as twenty feet in the air. The build up of strength is based on adrenaline levels and his mutation allowing his musculature to become ‘super-charged’. His muscles actually grow in size and his weight increases by about thirty pounds. Basically he’s not truly super-strong unless he needs to be, and he can muster it in seconds.

FAR SIGHT
Plymouth can summon the power to see great distances and clearly hear what he is able to envision (regardless of background noises). Subjects must be visible and in his direct line of sight. The power, however, does not allow him to idly eavesdrop on whomever he wishes. The ability can only manifest when it’s use is just.

HOLY GROUND
Plymouth cannot be damaged while standing on Holy Ground, nor can he cause damage. He can, however, place his body between he and another, or destroy weaponry. He simply cannot cause damage to another creature. Even if he tries, his attempted attacks will amount to nothing. While on Holy Ground, he heals faster and is able to cure any malady.

THE RESONANCE
Simply put, Plymouth senses ’SINS’. He feels the prominent sins on the surface of everyone around him but has to focus on a person to know them. Often these don’t amount to much, but occasionally he detects what could be classified as ‘demons’. These are murderers, unscrupulous thieves and people consumed with hate and contempt for the world around them. These people light-up like a beacon and Plymouth is compelled to pursue them; to bring them to justice, to educate, or exact upon them his own brand of justice, “Eye for eye, tooth for a tooth.” When confronted with such a person all Plymouth needs to do is touch them to know the basics of their crime(s).

PSYCHOMETRIC EMPATHY
Plymouth can touch a person and know the specifics of their sins. He sees with clarity what they have done or what they are planning to do. Even if a telepath can block such a reading, Plymouth will still get an emotional impression. (On Holy Ground no telepath can blind a Watcher). Plymouth will know if a person truly feels regret for what they have done, and if they possess guilt, he must grant them forgiveness and spare their life. He will still deliver them to the law to serve time for their crime but he cannot harm them, unless they threaten him or another.

CHORDS of the MESSENGER
Plymouth can, when necessary, speak to a person and they will hear the message in their native tongue. This does not allow him to understand their language, only relay a message so that they may understand it. The power of his vocal chords has also increased to the point that he can scream or rather ‘trumpet’ and the sound of his voice will resonate for several miles. There is no real other application to this ability other than he be very, very loud, that and his singing voice can only be described as ‘Angelic’.

INCANTATIONS (Spells he can perform at will)
Legerdemain - Plymouth can make small items disappear and reappear by dimensionally displacing them. He and other ‘magicians’ of course will know the locations which are only temporary. If he does not readily pull the object through another ‘window’ they reappear in a matter of minutes.

Cremation - When cast upon a corpse, the body is engulfed with intense blue flame, reducing it to ash within ten minutes.

QUIRKS • WEAKNESSES • FLAWS

Aside from personality flaws, Plymouth's only other major weakness is that he is bound to follow 'Old Testament Law' and must respect holy ground.

SKILLS

Mechanics - (Car Repair)
Machinist - (Making custom parts)
Gunsmithing - (Customized Handguns)
Lock-picking
Electronics - (Alarm & Camera Systems)
Security Systems
Networking
Programming
Music - (Guitar & Vocals)
Occult
Law Enforcement
High Speed Driving

HISTORY

Plymouth Slate Weir grew up in Brooklyn. Born in 1986 he like most of the kids had heard all the stories of Captain America and made the pilgrimage to Steve Roger’s former home to pay his respects to the hero, dreaming what it would be like to be the super-soldier. As he grew older and his ideologies matured, Plymouth became more respectful of his father’s profession as a law enforcer. Cole Weir was a good cop. Strong, brave, a pillar of the community, in a way, just like Steve Rogers. He always knew just what to say, and what not to say.

They were a traditional Irish family. Both is Da and Mother spoke Gaelic and taught it to him and his younger sister, Heather. His mother made him learn Latin from their priest. Catholic, Cole made sure the family observed all the traditions associated with the religion. Plymouth was always in awe at just how much a strong man like his father was so humbled before the power of God. His Da was a different person in Church. He seemed smaller and gentler. Outside, he was as hard as the streets he worked, teaching Plymouth it’s hard lessons. Lessons that were for his own good and it wasn’t until his seventeenth year that he would realize just how much. It was the year that his father was murdered, only he didn’t die in the line of duty, rather the duty of a vigilante. When the body of a local crime fighter was found and unmasked the community was shocked to learn that the hero known as Testament was none other than his father, Cole Weir. All his life he had kept his other life hidden from his family to protect them, then by the police ignorantly releasing his name, place them all in danger from his arch-enemy, Nine Swords. His mother and sister were slaughtered in their home, while Plymouth was abducted and transported all the way to Ireland where he was taken to a sacred site.

Turned out, Plymouth’s father received his powers through a ritual conducted by the last of an ancient order who called themselves the ‘Grigori’, emulations of the mysterious ‘Eighth Choir of Angels’ — The Watchers. It was believed by Nine Swords that if he sacrificed Plymouth upon the very altar that his father received his powers that they would pass to him, turned out he could not have been more wrong. The moment the villain plunged his sword into Plymouth’s heart and his blood struck the sacred stone, the truth that only the Weir blood line could bear a SIGIL OF THE GRIGORI became tragically apparent. Murdered out of greed and hate, Plymouth rose from death stronger than his father ever was, imprinted with THE SIGIL OF GADREEL, the strongest of all the Watchers. It was then that Nine Swords would learn the true meaning of wrath as Plymouth punished the man for three days until he could be kept alive no longer. The transformation made his body physically stronger, more muscular and his eyes turned a vivid violet which he wears blue coloured contact lenses or sunglasses to conceal.

Upon returning home, Plymouth moved to Jersey City, moving into an old Garage he inherited from his father that was called the ‘Fire Station’, as that’s what it once was. Turned out, this was Oath’s headquarters, and so it would become his as well. It would serve as his home and base of operations for his new line of work, ‘Arcane Security Systems’; a job that would provide him the flexibility necessary to support his crime-fighting life-style. He would become known as ‘Casket’ on the street. Merciless, the embodiment of Old Testament Justice, pursuing criminals beyond retribution he executes with extreme prejudice to appease the searing rage of vengeance that burns within him.

A decent guitarist, with a powerful, smokey blues voice, Plymouth makes a little extra cash on the side playing a small circuit around New York and New Jersey, going by the stage name, “Slate Blue”. Aside form that he generally keeps to himself. He avoids other super-humans, desiring to work alone, but recently he has worked with the masked crime-fighter called ‘Boreal’. The two teamed up to take down a criminal syndicate involved in human trafficking down in Miami, a story that made head-lines around the world as one of the crime-bosses shared affiliations with US President Luthor.

SOCIAL RELATIONS

He's worked with Boreal and knows that he's Atticus Gale. The only other friend he has, that's aware of his secret identity is retired police captain Ezra Waterstein, an old friend of his father's.

BACKGROUND

The Fire Station Garage - Plymouth inherited this property from his father who had inherited it from his father. It was never worth much, but because they owned the land outright they always held onto to it. It’s located in Jersey City, on Utica Street, across from Saint Peters Cemetery. The old brick Fire House that had at one time been converted into a repair shop is hidden in small forested section that sprang up around it, and this is nestled in a corner of intersecting railways, in fact the whole area is surrounded by tracks. Between it and the cemetery is an old warehouse, a section of it he has fixed up as office space for Arcane Security Systems. The entire property is surrounded by an eight foot electrified fence topped with razor wire, miniaturized camera’s, motion sensors, thermal sensors, all to showcase his skills and products (plus it offers great security).

Vehicles - Plymouth owns a number of 4x4 trucks, most of them old military vehicles he buys cheap and fixes up. He strips off all the serial numbers and paints them a flat grey. He’ll use these for transport when he heads out as Casket and if he has to ditch them, they can’t be traced back to him. The trucks are stored under the warehouse. The warehouse used to store flammable materials, that tanks of which were stored in an underground chamber designed to contain the fire should an explosion ever occur. The area is accessible by a few stairways and a loading elevator large enough to lower the trucks. The elevator is disguised as an old painting area, the platform hidden beneath a rusted car that Plymouth winches into the air and out of the way when he wants to access it. Casket takes an alternative exit off the property to avoid suspicion, following a road that takes him along the tracks.

WRITING SAMPLE

“An Irishman walks into a pub, sits down and pulls a tiny grand piano out of his pocket and sets it on the bar. He then pulls out a smartly dressed little guy who sits down on a little bench and begins to play. ‘Where’d ya get that?’ the bartender asks. ‘I’ve a magic decanter; y’rub it, take a swig and y’get a wish.’ the Irishman answers. ‘Can I try it?’ requests the bartender. ‘Sure.’, the Irishman agrees, pulling out an old tarnished whisky decanter from his pocket and handing it to the bartender. The bartender gives it a rub, takes a swig of the whiskey and ‘puff’ the room fills up with ducks, flapping about and making a ruckus. ‘Hey! I didn’t wish for a million ducks!’ exclaims the bartender. The Irishman responds, ‘So, did ya think I wished for a ten-inch pianist?’”

A roar of laughter ensued and another round of drinks was bought to perpetuate the drunken merriment at the bar for at least a few hours more. Pushing a strand of thick black locks from his eye the evening bard tossed back the last swig of his pint and happily accepted another. It had taken a few hours, could’ve taken more, but the crowd at the Pentacle and Cups had finally warmed up to the stranger. Acceptance was always a benefit when a person was seeking information, especially when that person was a cop. No need to let the cat-out-of-the-bag just yet, however, Plymouth preferred to work undercover.

The ring on his right hand clinked against the side of the fresh pint glass as he brought the ale to his lips. He was unaccustomed to the bobble but the charm he had received years ago from a Magus, no doubt, had become a necessity among magic types. It concealed his secrets, hid them from ’scrying eyes’. A much needed edge in a world of unpredictable abilities.

“Ne’er got yer name?” Requested ruby lips, shaded by thick, dark lashed scrutiny.

The woman bore an Irish accent and turning, the man beheld both bold an beautiful features partially hidden behind a thick wave of raven black hair not unlike his own.

“Plymouth.” He answered, using his real name. He had offered it freely several times over the course of the night but the curvy woman in black had only just arrived, though she would have had him believe otherwise.

“Never seen ya round here before.” She stated, placing a cigarette in the corner of her mouth, dark sparkling eyes studying the man’s features, memorizing the angular curves of his handsome visage.

“Never been.” He shrugged, quick to offer the lady a light.

A long pause ensued as she took in a deep drag. Bright tip of the cigarette dancing in the dark pools of her lingering gaze, slowly falling to the lighter in the man’s hand. The picture of the casket upon it familiar, but he couldn’t presently place it.

“Yeah,” There was a wariness to her tone, but also a hint of interest that he could use, “I’d definitely ’ave remembered ya.”

Precisely why Plymouth hadn’t tried to bullshit her. Locals always knew a stray dog when they saw one. The good ‘ol boys at the bar had been trying to sniff him out since he’d dropped the matchbook in the tip jar. A black book, upon it, printed in gold, a pentacle behind a cup, the insignia of the Pentacles and Cups pub. The sign of a ‘buyer’ seeking product.

“Belfast.” Plymouth mentioned. The origin of her particular accent.

She was flattered but hardly impressed, muttering something in Gaelic under her breath, but then surprised to have the Irish-American respond appropriately in the perfect brogue of the old tongue.

ARKHETYPE

CASKET - Plymouth Weir

Post by NITE OWL on Sept 3, 2017 23:23:23 GMT -6

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