Gentlemen of Justice

Name: Lordly Manor
Race: Human
Looks: Kinda like Rich Uncle Pennybags.
Powers: Super Wealth
Alignment: Good
Other: Super wealthy



Lordly Manor was creator of the Gentlemen of Justice, a group of like-minded men with super powers that did battle with the forces of evil. Each one had their own, individual power and was a valued member. Ever since he was little, and his rich parents died of freak assassinations, Lordly had been gifted with what he assumed was the super ability of vast wealth. He could do anything he wanted, buy anything he needed, and crush anyone he hated, and there was no greater thing that he hated than the forces of evil. That was why he created the Gentlemen of Justice.

Shuffling some papers, he quickly tidied up the Grand Court of Gentleman's Justice for the next meeting. The other Gentlemen would be arriving soon and he had to have the place as clean as possible. He waved his female, and thereby sexually inferior, maid/housecleaner/only friend Rosa over to him. She had illegally emigrated from the Mexico, and arrived only to find that the sweet-free-country USA had not been so sweet and free, and had been, in fact much more bitter-expensive. Mr. Manor had found her in his dumpster scrounging for food, and he was her sexually superior overlord ever since.
"Rosa!" Lordly bellowed at the feeble mexican maid, "Tidy this place up. The Gentlemen will be here any second!"
"Si, Misser Manor," she mumbled in a very Mexican accent. She was large and dumpy, and moved very slowly. She shuffled her feat and smelled horrible, but Lordly trusted her ability to clean.
With his hands on his hips, Lordly Manor looked around the Grand Court with a semisweet smile on his face. This was the day that he and the guys were going to once an for all put an end to evil. He began feverishly playing with his mustache, and adjusted his top hat so that it sat perfectly square on his head. Just then, he heard the ringing of the Justice Bell and knew that the first Gentleman had arrived. Soon, he mused, their meeting would begin.

[Moved this to silly rp because... this just can't go in general, Tyler. It just can't. If you want it to be a silly RP with a semi-serious side, perhaps look at the suggestion that I made in board suggestions.]

Name: Ark
Race: Human...?
Looks: Like your average Joe. Tall, kind of lanky, short, scruffy brown hair with flecks of white hair that come with premature greyness. Often wears coats with arms that are too long, always hiding his hands. Awkward, yet classy.
Powers: Turns into a wolf. A white one.
Alignment: Good.
Other: Aroo.



Ark swatted at the Justice Bell outside of Lordly Manor's Justice Manor. The bell's pleasant tingle emanated across the grounds, making his salt and brown pepper hair stand on end. There was one thing he loved to hear in the evening. And that was the sound of justice.

He could hear the shuffling of the large and dumpy Mexican maid. He hoped she was wearing that sumptuous perfume that Lordly Manor often supplied for her. He did so love to smell the trail of her travels around the house. He did so love to smell things in general. In fact, he was smelling the Justice Bell as he waited for his chance to smell Rosa.

Her scent led him into the manor. He gazed upon the luxurious furniture and gold plated $100 bills scattered around the room. Ahhh, he thought to himself, this is the manor I know and love. It's been a while since we've done some justice on these streets. He walked into the room where Lordly was patiently waiting. He picked up the scent of money and extremely high property values. Nodding in satisfaction, he took a seat in one of the many cushy sofa chairs, slouching down and kicking a leg up to rest his ankle on his knee. Placing his arms on the armrests, he calmly strummed the inside of his sleeves.

"Gramercy, lovely Lordly, what's the news?" Ark spoke calmly. He could smell the fragrance of wine being poured in the kitchens. Oh how he did enjoy a glass of wine from time to time. He moved his fingers to his lap, tenting them in anticipation of one of Lordly's widely acclaimed justice speeches.

"Gawd Blimey, Ark!" Lordly bellowed in his larger-than-life British Accent on seeing a fellow Gentleman. "It's been far too long, far too long since we've had a Gathering of Justice. Been a half-dozen moons, I would say, if you were to ask me." Lordly shot a glance over to Rosa who was dumpily shuffling into Grand Sitting Room of Justice, where the Gentlemen gathered before heading into the Grand Court and was the current location of Lordly and Ark. "Rosa, be a dear and fetch Mister Ark some brie to go with that wine." Lordly turned a look to Ark, as if expecting a 'Women!' look of disrespect from him.
"Si, Misser Manor," Rosa mumbled in reply, shuffling away with the tray of wine toward the Grand Kitchen or perhaps to one of the many hidden pantries around the mansion that hid away tasty and expensive delicacies.
“Now, Ark, I do say,” Lordly bellowed, looking toward the cozy fire that lit the Grand Sitting Room, “I believe that this gathering will be a historic one to say the least,” he said, mumbling and chortling as he spoke, as was the way by which he spoke.
The Gentlemen of Justice was notorious for just sitting around, drinking high priced wine and smoking high priced cigars. Most people saw it as a gathering of rich aristocrats, but they were very much mistaken. And tonight, the Gentlemen would prove them all wrong.

Just as Lordly was finishing up his thought on the Gentlemen’s grandeur, Rosa shuffled back in with the same tray of wine with some added cheese and biscuits to go along with it. She placed it on the side table beside Ark’s comfortable chair, and began aimlessly shuffling away.

Name: Slade Armitage
Race: Human
Looks: Shady Vigilante
Powers: Two SMGs with Infinite Ammo, because reloading takes too long.
Alignment: Chaotic Justice

Slade wandered past the rich good-for-nothings in Manor's Manor. They sat in their armchairs, speaking of justice while sipping their vintage wines and smoking their cuban cigars.

Justice. What did they know about justice? They don't know how life goes down on the streets. They live in their own fantasy world where problems are solved with a pen and chequebook. But evil doesn't play that game. Evil doesn't play by anybody's rules. And the only way to fight someone with no regard for rules, is to abandon rules yourself.

These aristocrats sit around getting fat, while innocent people work themselves to death and still starve. That isn't justice. Never has been, never will be.

Slade. He was a man of action. He was a man who didn't care if narratives were in first person, third person, past tense or present. Whatever sounded good. Because that gets the job done. And that's something these lazy wastes of human life could never understand.

Ark caught the scent of a certain shady vigilante coasting by. His stench stunk of pride and mismatched narratives that swirled around the house, darkening every room with the feeling of despair and mistreated innocents.
"Ahh, it would seem that Slade has arrived," mused Ark, "and he still smells as hardcore as ever." He could feel Slade's anxiety to do evil unto evil right to the ends of his prematurely grey hairs. He knew that Slade often thought of him as a fat aristocrat akin to Lordly Manor. If only he knew.

Ark sprung up from his chair, walking over to the fireplace to catch some of its warmth and make sure that no witches were trying to make their way into the manor by some sort of evil witchery. The others may have not believed him, but he knew- he knew the truth about the witches and their fireplace travel. He didn't trust a single fireplace from Alaska to Japan. He was prepared at any moment to rip the windpipe from any hag emerging from the flames. He would convince the others of this dark, secret mode of travel one of these days. How little he knew the day was creeping upon the gentlemen slowly and with a certain haggish satisfaction.

Prying his eyes away from the fire, he looked in Lordly's general direction as he strode over to the tray of wine and brie that the dumpy Rosa had brought in a flurry of sumptuous odor. Fumbling some brie between his fingers, he said to Lordly, "you're right, I've been feeling on edge ever since our last meeting. Something is stirring in this city and I don't like it. The cats have been teasing me a little more than usual lately, as well. And I don't like that either. In fact, while I'm on a roll, I'm not really a fan of your manor's decor, Lordly, and I don't much care for your wasteful lifestyle. But, I suppose it is necessary for us to combat the forces of injustice..."

Ark lost himself in his musings. Staring off in Slade's direction, he involuntarily let out a pup-like whine of hopelessness. Sitting down on the floor, he drew a tattered pack of playing cards from his pocket and began to organize them by suit and in ascending order. He didn't trust playing cards being out of order and in mixed suits. Not for more than a couple hours. The witches... they had many mysterious ways.

Lordly was always astounded by Ark's ability to sense and describe people's movement and positioning even when they were many walls apart. Such a curious man, but these were curious times and curious times had led to curious bedfellows. Shaking that far too homo erotic imagery from his head, Lordly grabbed a glass of wine from the tray and began feverishly sipping it. The sweet taste of 1922 pino grigio made the money in his pocket stand on end. Taking a few steps away from Ark's racially intolerant card mannerisms, he clicked a button on his extremely expensive handheld security device, AKA his iPhone, to check out why Slade had yet to ring the Justice Bell.
"Gawd Blimey, Ark," Lordly bellowed, "Seems Slade's opted for a more vigilant approach tonight. According to this video feed, he seems to be wandered right past my lordly Manor!" He did not worry though. He indented for all of the Gentlemen to be present to see his big news and he intended to get them all there. Clicking another button on his iPhone, he placed it back in his pocket and began stuffing hundred dollar bills from his wallet into his mouth.

A few seconds later, what had previously seemed like a tool shed had Transformerstyle transformed into a Transformer-like robot. On closer inspection, one could tell that this robot/tool shed was clearly made out of hundred dollar bill bricks, a poor decision from an architectural standpoint. The robot began running out of the garden it was located in, jumping over the massive shurbberies and walls that surrounded Lordly's lordly manor. It made no noise, being as quiet as a fox hunting an injured obese little boy.
Landing a few paces away from Slade, the robot began swinging its arms at Slade wildly as if it intended to hurt the poor, innocence self proclaimed dealer of vigilantly justice. But on closure inspection, as is necessary with this robot, the wild swings seem to simply explode into piles of useless cash upon hitting anything. This robot was not very solid. "THE LORDLY LORD LORDLY MANOR REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCES," the robot shrieked, angrily (if it had emotions which it didn't.), "RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!!"

Name: Sailuk Tungortok
Race: Human
Looks: A tightly-bundled, non-squat, flat-nose-less, unwrinkled eskimo in a parkasuit, because rich Gentlemen Eskimos aren't allowed to be ugly.
Powers: Manifests Nature and expels scented bubbles while emotional.
Alignment: Justice
Other: Your FACE is too cold.

Sailuk sauntered up to the diamond windows, which, he noticed, were encrusted with even more diamonds, and rapped thrice upon the pane. The pane that Justice built. He knew he was expected to ring Lordly Manor's Justice Bell, but he felt it was too close to the door.

You see, when he was but a wee gentleboy, working with his father on the Snow Farms, he had had a love of doors. They had simply fascinated him with their majestic swings and their. But one fateful, awful day, as he was playing with his toys by the door of their epicurean igloo, the door had swung open. And in the way had laid his favourite toy, Eskimo Batman with Real Mushing Action. Sailuk had watched as Batman, crushed against the icy walls by the door, had his head torn asunder by that wretched door. Ever since, he has feared that he, too, may be horribly murdered and massacred by such a door. He bubbled a little at the memory.

Rosa, Lordly's lovely-scented maid, unhinged the diamond hook on the diamond-encrusted diamond window, saying something in what he assumed was Spanish, but he didn't really listen because she was Mexican and therefore more like white noise.

"Pointar me to the Grando Courto," he said to the silly maid. She rolled her eyes and pointed the way down a hall with carpet made of $20,000 bills. That must be a Mexican gesture for "you're wonderful and obviously better than me".

First of all... good job making a new forum. We didn't need all those memories and familiarity with the old site - hogwash.
Also - I have no idea who anybody here is anymore. Everyone should put their name in their signature or something.
-Marshall

Name: I-ron "Beatz" Rammrod (real name: Nicolas Murphy)
Race: Human
Looks: Large and in charge. Rarely seen without his blinding white tuxedo and stylized fedora hat.
Powers:
Alignment: Injustice and harm.

The white limo pulled up infront of the mansion, it's bottom lit by purple neon lights, it's windows tinted blue and the bass thumping out violent rap music in the back. For a brief moment it paused to show off it's hydrolic suspension, tilting and bouncing about, but then it came to a stop.
"Rammrod - you sure yo wanna go through wit' this tonight?" a lanky man in the back seat stated frankly, clearly nervous as if something was about to go down.
"Yo..." I-ron replied in his deep, soothing voice, though no one could hear him over the music - and if they could have they would have barely understood his grunting half-talk "I got things covered man.. these rich mo-fo's aint got nuttin' on me - besides, none of them suspect me being all evil or anythaaaang."
I-ron's lacky's all nodded in approval for whatever their boss had just said. They all knew the gist of what was going on tonight anyways. Their boss had years ago established himself as an unwanted member of the Gentlemen of Justice, and, like it or not, he had more than enough money and bling to fit in. But tonight... after much planning... the Gentlemen would fall. And they would be totally clueless as to who was to blame.
I-ron opened the door, and, with his diamond-carved walking cane in hand, he strutted his stuff right past a giant, money flinging robot and made his way to the front door.
"Ah - I-ron!" Rosa said upon seeing him, "How you doin' man?! It's been a *$%@& long time since I last seen you're white ass around here!"
Rosa was very different around I-ron. The two of them shared a special bond. A street bond.
"Yo Rosa, what's up my bi-otch?" the two shared some sort of complex handshake, followed by a chest bumping hug.
"Just slavin' away as usual... you know how it is dawg. You still secretly running that crime gang that been killin' all those kids round' town?"
The two of them freestyle-rapped for a short while, and then I-ron proceeded down the expensive hallway, flashing his many, jewel-grilled teeth along the way.
Yes... he thought... tonight the Gentlemen would be destroyed. They would become the poor beggars that I-ron had been back in his street days - and they would search the gutters for pennies and food.
"Bitchin'." he said, "Just bitchin'."






Ophion Edit: I think everyone who is going to participate has already. So I think we can start with Sindayven's [Joe] turn next and follow the order as posted from there. Unless Drixxel [Trevor] will be jumping in. Also, Marshall, see this thread for names and stuff. Hopefully it will be fuller by the time you get to it.

Slade made short work of the crazy cash construct.

"Doesn't feel so futile to me," he quipped, standing over the heap of bullet shredded bills. "Lordly can go to hell with this 'gentlemen' bullshit."
He looked over at the large bell hanging in the bell tower of the manor. Seconds later, it resonated with the force of a hail of bullets pounding against it.
"I ring your bell not for you, but for justice."

Slade sat down in a rather comfortable looking chair in the lounge. He took a single shot of scotch for the evening. After all, he was the designated driver for his carpool that night. He lit a cigar and threw it into the fire, remarking that "that shit'll kill you" or some such. He waited patiently in his chair for whatever it was that was so important that he needed to waste his time in this snooty hell to happen. There were villains out there. Rapists, murderers, and petty thieves to be stopped. They certainly weren't going to get stopped without Slade's help.

The police force was corrupt, and everyone knew it. They let anything slide so long as it'll keep their wallets full and their bellies fat. Slade needed to uncover the source of the corruption and expose it for the world to see. Only then, could the city of Melhod be once again, pure.

Centuries ago, there had been a great cataclysm that shook the planet. What happened is anyone's guess. All the world remembers is the scars it bears.
And those scars run deep...

Ark watched Slade take up residence in what was widely considered the most comfortable-looking chair of the lot. He also noticed a rather uncomfortable-looking trail of money left by the vigilante as he entered. Finishing up the ordering of his cards and feeling an instant rush of satisfaction, he stood up from his place on the floor and moved closer to the fire for warmth. But not too close. The witches.

He twitched his ear with his hand (normally he'd have twitched his ear with his ear muscles, but that was just impractical as a human, lacking muscles. Woe is the half-man half-wolf!) and gave the air a good sniff. He could smell the odor of gunpowder and a life of hardship on Slade and hear the alien mumblings of a free-styling Mexican and the poetry of a free-styling Nicolas. Solemnly nodding, he walked over to Lordly.
"It would seem that everyone's here, my obscenely wealthy friend!" he said to Lordly. Ark smiled a much too razor sharp toothy grin at Lordly and shuffled around the room, pouring droplets of his wine around things that he liked, just in case the others had any ideas about trespassing on territory that was plainly his by rite of wine dousing.

After his ritualistic territorial markings were placed, he stared off out the window taking in the sights of aristocracy- the manor's clean yard surrounded by a large cast iron gate and fence. Beyond the fence, prostitutes and drug dealers hoping to score a few bucks from the corrupt aristocrats that were not members of the Gentlemen. Beyond them, a group of small children being beaten by a group of slightly larger children, being chided by a group of elderly folk, having their canes constantly stolen, returned and then stolen again by a gang of hoodlums. Ark scoffed, followed by some sound that probably would have been a growl had he been the proper species, but instead came out as some garbled word akin to "crackerjacks."

Turning around with a rather canine whine, he barked (rather humanly so) at Lordly, "FOR GOD'S SAKE MAN, TELL US WHAT YOU WANT ALREADY. THE INJUSTICE MAKES ME WANT TO CONSUME THE FLESH OF MISCREANT HUMANS AND I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I CAN KEEP MY WULK* SMASH AT BAY!"

Ark panted in the general direction of everyone. But not with his tongue out. He was self-conscious about his human tongue and how little it was. So his pant looked more like retarded hyperventilating which, for some reason, didn't bother him one bit.








*Not to be confused with Hulk Smash

"Gawd blimey, Ark," Lordly bellowed seeing everyone gather in the Grand Sitting Room, "Seems everyone is here, I do say, I do say." He swallowed the remaining few dollars that were still in his mouth, as the hundred dollar bills that he had been chewing on had decomposed into a few tens (That's what happens to money when you eat it). As he looked around at his crack squad of super hero-esque Gentlemen, who didn't seem to have very many super powers now that he thought about it, his eye could not help but catch the dumpy expression of Rosa, ((SEEN HERE)) shuffle by. She looked much more dumpy than normal. Perhaps it was just her Mexican time of the month. Lordly spat in disgust at the thought of woman and their inferiority.

A few minutes later, they were all gathered in the Grand Court of Gentlemen's Justice, which looked exactly like the House of Representatives ((SEEN HERE)), being just as big and having just as many seats. The original plan Lordly had had for the Gentlemen of Justice had been much grander, but the five(?) of them would have to suffice. The main difference of the Grand Court was the flag, which, instead of flying the Star Spangled Banner, flew the flag of Justice, ((SEEN HERE)).
"Gentlemen," Lordly began, "We are all here because we each love for our home, the great Melhod, City of the Fallen Pharaohs, but if Pharaoh Worlf, Pharaoh of Wolf and Bird, were alive to see this place today, he would vomit from a combination of disgust and disease because Melhod is the worst place on the planet and everyone in it should die because it is evil. Then Worlf would probably eat his own vomit just to vomit again. That is how bad this place is..." Lordly couldn't help but notice Rosa shuffle dumpily past the door, again meeting his eyes, "and we need to make it better."
Grabbing his iPhone, Lordly clicked a button, unveiling what had been underneath the curtains that were hanging behind him. There, held on a giant pedestal of gold and platinum and credit cards, was a giant nuclear bomb. "I give you, the solution to the problem. A giant bomb to kill everyone in Melhod." He looked around at his crowd, "Any questions?"

Sailuk gasped and stared, filling the room with a scent of shock and vanilla bubbles and tiny winged frogs as they poured out of his parkasuit onto the servants he had ordered to sit in a chair formation so he'd have somewhere to sit.

"WHAT!? What is this? Who is this? Where is this? Which one is this? Do you really intend to blow up the city? I fail to see how that is Justice, Lordly. I fail indeed."

Truly, Sailuk felt that Pharaoh Worlf probably would have thrown up regardless, being dead and all. He imagined that coming to life after being dead so long did not sit well with the stomach, much like a roller coaster. A roller coaster called THE CIRCLE OF LIFE RUNS BACKWARDS. Wouldn't it, he thought, be better to simply kill all of the Unjust? Perhaps with evil-seeking missiles, made of honesty and pretty things. They would be called... Truth and Beauty Bombs.

"Surely there must be some better way!"

I-ron could hear very little through the raging music he was blasting at himself through headphones, trying to keep his distance from the one they called Slade (anyone who sat near him was ridiculed and made fun of), but one of his many talents he had learned from the street was how to identify large, multi-megaton nuclear weaponry.
Yes, he knew much about these weapons... and instantly thought back to the days of daily drive-by nukings on his block. So many lost in the hood... so much environmental damage... hundreds of acres of low income thug houses destroyed... but it had gotten better as he had gotten richer, and began to simply buy off his enemies and unify the street gangs into the unstoppable secret crime force that he now controlled.
Strange, he thought, that Lordly would choose to purchase this weapon. In this crazy futuristic world they lived in, there were much more dangerous weapons available. The Continental Black Hole cannon came to I-ron's mind, not to mention the Jesus-Cannon the French had recently built, further strengthening their control over the world.
And such a large bomb, too! Nukes were available in pocket size now. In fact - he checked his pockets - nope, none today - but he usually carried around a few, just in case.
Granted, bullet-proof vests had improved dramatically over the years as well, as did construction methods. Nukes didn't so much kill you anymore as they did... annoy you, and they didn't so much level buildings as they did... provide a slight boost in heat. Ah, the march of technology!
So what was Lordly's deal then? Surely he wasn't so out of touch as to think of a plan to stop justice that would fail so miserably?
And yet, Sailuk seemed to think it would cause damage, too.

Or... he paused and thought for a moment. Could it be that these rich, rich, rich men had lost touch with the modern world? Had they gotten so rich that they had sealed themselves off from the advancements outside their mansions?
Perhaps, if that was the case, then they didn't need to be stopped after all. For how could such blundering fools manage to bring down I-ron's army of criminals at all?

Assuming this bomb was even capable of killing everyone in Melhod was almost as laughable as thinking that that would bring justice. Neither of which Slade found laughable so much as disgusting.

Slade stood up in rage.

"You would waste our time with such nonsense?" He shouted. "This is outrageous! What would Dire Saint Wolfbane think of a solution like this? I'll tell you. He'd spit in your face for even thinking it. In his stead, I'll spit in your face."

Slade spat in Lordly's face.

A nuclear bomb. A large, smooth, metallic exploding device. Ark's lip twitched.

"A... A BOMB? SERIOUSLY? Are you... are you a madman?" Ark raged, losing grip on reality, allowing a fluffy white tail to pop out of the bottom of his human tail bone in a flurry of white foofy poppiness. "That thing has to be at least twenty years old! No one uses bombs that old anymore! It doesn't even heat up the room! Who wants a bomb that doesn't heat up the room?" A pair of ears wiggled their way out of his unfortunately premature greyish brown hair.

He took a deep breath to compose himself, very self conscious of the fact that he had sprouted a second set of ears and a gloriously bushy tail. Even more conscious was he of the frogs that had somehow found their way out of Sailuk's sleeves.

"I agree with Sailuk, there must be some better way!" Ark raged in Lordly's general direction. Though lacking a decent sense of direction, most of his rage ended up hitting the window next to Lordly, shattering it with the sheer volume of Ark's ill feelings toward the situation. With that last bit of slight control lost, the rest of his body succumbed to fluffy white hair and the once bipedal Ark arched down to the ground to stand on four paws. Barking in Lordly's more correct direction, Ark said, "I refuse to follow a madman such as you. You waste our time with your antique bombs and wealth. I think it's about time we elected a new leader!"

Feeling an overwhelming wave of laziness wash over his mighty wolf body, Ark sat his mighty wolf self down and gave a mighty wolf yawn.

"One thing's for sure - whatever happens from this point on - I'm putting meat back on the menu!" Ark barked, reciting the legendary words of his brother's father's father's sister's children's father's brother-in-law*













*Ark's grandfather

“Gawd blimey, Ark,” Lordly bellowed, confused and bewildered. “Now what is all the huff-uff about?” He turned around and stared at his bomb for a few minutes. He stared and stared in complete silence, wondering in bewilderment as to the reaction of his fellow Gentlemen. That’s when he realized the source of the confusion. He quickly turned around at the angry-esque mob of Gentlemen. “Dear me, dear me!” he muttered. Raising his voice, he shouted, “Rosa!” He paused, shouting again, “Rosa, get in here and bring ‘the hook,’ would you?”
Again, they all sat in complete complacent silence, waiting for the slow movements of the dumpy Rosa to find their way to the Grand Court. When she entered, she appeared to be holding a giant pole (at least 30 feet long) with a giant hook at the end. Just as she took her first awkward step into the Grand Court (manoeuvring such a long pole into a regular sized door was very bothersome) Lordly bellowed again.
“Gawd blimey, Ark!” he bellowed, quickly correcting himself, “I mean Rosa! Gawd blimey, Rosa! You are hardly welcome into such a place as this with your obvious sexual inferiority! Cover yourself!”
Rosa nodded, dropping the giant hook. “Si, misser Manor...” she moaned, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a piece of cloth, which she tied around her eyes, blindfolding her. She then, blindly, searched around her pockets, pulling out set of scales. She looked just like a lardy, ugly, Mexican version of Lady Justice. Once she was all suited up, she began clumsily searching the floor for the giant hook which she seemed to not remember where she dropped it.
After about 40 minutes of blind searching, Rosa accidently stumbled upon it and picked it up. She began making her way toward Lordly, who stood silently and made no attempt to help her find her way. It took her about an hour of walking and bumping into things to finally reach Lordly.

“And now, I do say,” Lordly bellowed, grabbing the hook and shooing Rosa away to stumble around the room, hoping one of the walls she hits turns out to be a door, “let me show you why you are all so confused.”
Using his hook as a hook, Lordly reached his hook to unhook something hooked onto the ceiling by some form of hook. Hook hook hook. He slowly lowered the hook, revealing a replica of the Earth hanging by some cord. Lordly lowered it until it was suspended in air beside the giant golden plated bomb. The bomb and the planet were about the same size. “This bomb is just a model. This would be the actual size of it,” he bellowed, “Any questions?”

"CHEESE and CRACKERS!" shouted Sailuk, simultaneously producing a gravity-defying whale in the grand court. It was fortunate that the court was so grand, or it would have been a terrible mess. The whale took one look at the model bomb, and being the telepathic little lummox that it was, telepathed it's purpose and said, "UuuuUWEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUNNN!" which roughly translates as, "HOLY PLANKTON!"

"Methinks Lordly has forgotten that money isn't apocalypse-proof.", though Sailuk. "Lordly! Are you aware money isn't apocalypse-proof!? You'll die, too! I mean, I suppose there are those moon colonies, but everyone knows that's just a convenient excuse to ship away all of our ugly people to be trained as servants!"

Name: John Birdman
Race: Human/Avian
Looks: Professional, business-like (human form), albatross-y (bird form)
Powers: Transmutation into awkwardly-large man-sized fowl
Alignment: Aerodynamically superior, so "good"
Other: Often wakes up early for reasons of go-gettership





It was nearing midnight and John Birdman soared through the darkness, wings outstretched. The night sky was as serene as ever, but the streets below brewed as if a tea of evil, a leafy mix picked by the hands of Lucifer, dried by the lamps of Hades, and subsequently soaked in the kettles of Cthulu. As a man, John often enjoyed a pot of orange pekoe, making such tea-centric similes extremely hard-hitting. However, as a bird, this was easy to forget. His avian focus was applied unrelentingly to the meeting and all else rapidly fell to the waysides.

He'd been to the mansion before, but even had he not, the sprawling property was massive enough to be distinctly visible from space. Soaring evermore, he approached the courtyard and began circling, keeping his albatross eyes peeled for signs of recently-installed anti-air defenses. He spotted a fresh set of heat-seeking missile towers cunningly disguised as five identical marble fountains lined up on the roof of the study - his albatross instincts told him to add additional weariness to his flightplan.

John Birdman didn't actually plan to attend the meeting so much as perch himself on a windowsill and listen in. Of course, being a bird roughly the size of a man, his ability to remain discrete compared to other sleeker birdkind placed him at a bit of a disadvantage. He had a board meeting to throw in the morning and simply was without time to tolerate another of Lordly's rambling evening gatherings with their extended goodbyes. Maneuvering his way around the lazer tracking systems of the mansion's myriad shooty air repellents, John charted a descent to a balcony offering a clear view in of the Gentlemen.

His avian focus fluttered for a moment and thoughts of the morning PowerPoint consumed his mind - sales forecasts, 4th quarter performance... green initiatives, graphs that animate. He could feel his feathers begin to recede and his beak become fleshy. He shuddered, cleansed his mind, flapped his wings. Birdthoughts returned, birdfeatures regained.

The glass of the balcony doors was thick and practically soundproof, forcing John to shuffle a little closer. Underestimating the length of his beak, it collided with the balcony door, causing it to creak open and reveal to the Gentleman a very embarrassed-looking albatross. John stood still, beady albatross peepers darting from Gentleman to Gentleman. It was only now that he noticed the angry energy in the room, centered around the odd bomb-to-Earth model that Lordly stood proudly before. All eyes were on the albatross.

The large bird entered the room shortly after Lordly's unveiling of the earth-sized nuclear bomb, and yet this was still a rather boring meeting, by the Gentlemen's standards.
I-ron remembered the last meeting, when a large, three headed bear had smashed through the roof. It had fought for a day and a night with a spear and a shield, against no less than ten, maybe twelve of the finest Gentlemen Knights, before being subdued by the promise of weekly honey payments. Still, every friday a representative from the Gentlemen would make his or her way down to the Bears cave, and deliver the fresh batch of golden, sugary sweetness to their growling master.
Compared to that, the large bird in the room at the moment - and the bomb - still paled in comparison. But it was getting close, and I-ron had a hunch things were going to get even more zanier in a couple of posts (Posts being the unit of time that has replaced minutes in the future, of course. Instead of Four-thirty, everybody now said 30 posts past the Fourth Hour)
I-ron knew his original plan to stop the Gentlemen would not work. His plan had been simple, and far too realistic for this ridiculous group. It had involved identity theft, and the slow but eventual destruction of Lordly's prestige.
But it appeared the old man had out maneuvered I-ron this time. With the world destroyed, there would be nobody to steal from, or hurt, and thus, I-ron would be without a purpose.
Good play, Lordly, good play... once again I-ron reflected on the sheer genius of the man before him! Lordly, master of Justice, as he was known in the underworld - and tonight he had earned that crazy title.
But perhaps all was not lost! For as all eyes were trained on the Albatross, I-ron was free to pickpocket Slade's wallet and drivers licence. He didn't even bother to take the money from it, he just threw it into the garbage. Such was his disgust for Slade.

"Destroying the world is nothing short of cartoony super-villainy," Slade shouted. "I think I've wasted enough time here. There's justice to be done."

Slade whipped out his guns and aimed them at the floor. He pulled the triggers and ascended through the window with the propulsion of the bullets. Shortly thereafter, criminals were being "subdued" by the dozens. Slade flew through the sky SMG sniping ruffians and hooligans with deadly accuracy.

It was time for Slade to seek out new information about the source of Melhod's horrific corruption. For years, he had been searching for this root cause. He had found bigwigs, crime-bosses and masterminds, but killing them only seemed to divert the problem. There was a puppet master out there, controlling the other evil overlords. Slade needed to find him and sever the strings. Then kill him. 'Cause that's what Slade does. He kills people. For justice, of course. Innocents were to be protected and not killed.

That appeared to be where he and Lordly didn't see eye to eye. This planet destroying bomb wasn't the first time Lordly had proposed unhealthy solutions to the injustices of Melhod. There was the Global Warming plan, to kill off all life on the planet. The Hyper Pollution plan, aimed at depriving the people of the world of the necessities for existence. There was the genetically engineered super human Professor Jesus who, well... let's just say that the Gentlemen don't like to talk about that one.

But enough about Lordly, Slade thought. There was a puppet master to be found.

He set his guns to Mach 5 and sped off.

Lordly's bellowing startled Ark back into a conscious state, having fallen asleep during Rosa's hook searching. He watched Lordly raise his hook to the heavens, unleashing some sort of round, globally warmed, polluted fury from the ceiling. It turned out it was really just a ball that looked like Earth. Ark noted some geographical errors on its surface, such as the distinct lack of multiple continents. Instead, Pangaea was present, only it didn't look like Pangaea at all. The giant landmass was in the shape of Lordly himself. Ark noted that Lordly did not pass geography in high school.

The thunderous presence of a floating whale pulled Ark's gaze from the globe. It was then that Ark realized he was still hungry for living flesh. He tried to push the thought from his mind and concentrated back on Lordly.
"Good God, man, have you gone mad? Now you'll crush us to death?" Ark barked.

Apparently, the powers that be were not ready for his blood lust to subside as, just as he had suppressed the urge to feed on someone, a monstrous albatross crashing through the window. Ark drooled a little bit. Just then, Slade shot up through the roof, letting in the light of the moon. He howled in its general direction, for once, hitting it dead on. After filling his howl quota, he looked back at the albatross.
"Lordly, it would appear that there is a large bird sitting on your window. Maybe you should invite him in? He looks rather gentlemanly. And perhaps a little cold," Ark said calmly. He yelped for Rosa to bring more wine, to which she complied dumpily.
"I say, Lordly, these ballsy solutions to injustice are going to have to curb one of these days. I'm not sure how much more shock I can take. First a geographically incorrect globe, then a bomb the size of the planet, then a giant albatross in the window?" Ark mused, as if the entrance of the albatross was completely Lordly's doing.

Lordly sighed, lowering his head enough to shade his eyes 'neath his lordly tophat. So many attempts to spread justice through the land, so many failures. And now a whale and an albatross had appeared, and Slade had 'shot' off into the sky. This Gentleman of Justice was beginning to question his capabilities as leader. It was the beginning of the end. Lordly was ready to give up. But...

NO! Never give up!

A voice in his head was yelling for him to not give up. To never surrender. He looked around quickly to figure out where the voice in his head was coming from. And there, standingly triumpantly (and yet still dumpily) beside him was the misshapen Rosa.
"Non, Misser Manor," she said again, this time less shouting directly into Lordly's ear-ish and more in her regularly scheduled dumpy tone, "You must never give up until Justice has been deliver, por favor! Muchas gracias! Ariba!"
Rosa's Mexican words touched Lordly's heart more than he thought they ever could. "You are right, Rosa," he said, laughing haughtily, "Gawd blimey, Rosa, you're right! She's right everyone! She's right! She's right!" He began chanting that until everyone in the room was too (although no once else did). "We can't let failures, whales, and mysteriously human-sized albatross' get in our way! We must take the the sky! Like Slade!" He paused, turning to Rosa, "Get your jetpack! Tonight, we dine in hell!"
Rosa quickly (for Rosa, anyways) shuffled off. "Alright men, now is just the beginning. We have to take our justice to the street. We have to start randomly killing bad guys one person at a time. There are plenty around the city, from what I can recall. The Duchess of Denmark, Killer Cat, and Never-know-his-name Nathan. Each more deadly than the last, though of course we can never forget about Professor Jesus. Never again shall we try to solve the injustice of the world with more, slightly bigger injustice. No, now we must use JUSTICE to fight injustice!" Turning to the albatross, shouting, ever more loudly as the whale was providing really poor acoustics in the room, "Be you man or bird, or Son of Man and Bird, or Son of Bird and Bird, or what have you, bird, I beseech thee, join our fight."
Just then, Rosa returned with a massive jetpack strapped to her back. There was some sort of apparatus that looked like a baby-carrying thing some parents used attached to the front portion of her body. Lordly sprinted over and jumped into it, strapping himself in. Rosa did a few pre-flight checks, including checking to make sure Lordly had his juice box and animal crackers (he gets fussy when he's hungry), then took off. The pair of them rose (Rosa?) into the air, and blasted out into the sky.

There would be blood tonight.

Sailuk, while pleased by this sudden revolutionary idea to fight injustice with justice, couldn't help but be disappointed with Rosa's lack of in-flight safety instructions. Damn, Lordly had better know where the exits are.

Removing his Tele-Whale from the room, Sailuk instead created a Teleki-Flaming Leopard to carry him off into the sky with Lordly. Failing this, because he forgot to fireproof the leopard, he created a Teleki-Fireproof Flaming Leopard with a saddle (so as not to burn his beautiful bottom). And he made sure, this time, that it could give riddles, because he still felt personally responsible for Professor Jesus. Sure, all the Gentlemen had invented him, but Sailuk had been the one to will him into existance without a self-destruct button. And everyone knows that Prof. Jesus can only be defeated by a Holy Riddle he can't solve.

Telekineticking off into the sky on his leopard, he let out a stream of mint-scented bubbles behind him in his elation.

John nibbled feverishly at his wing for a moment and snapped his birdgaze up to the ascending Lordly-'n'-Rosa jetpack combo. Wanton destruction of any and all villains? This was a most forward and uncharacteristic strategy from Lordly, and one that promised to consume far more of John's night than originally planned. He might have nothing but a power nap behind him going into tomorrow's bored meeting (he thought the pun in his head and rustled his feathers in disgust at himself).

Just then, John realized he was missing something - his tie! Of course no one had recognized him without his tie. He clouded his birdthoughts just enough for his business cravate to restore itself around his feathered neck, adding an unconventional air of professionalism rarely seen in human-scale avian.



John had accompanied the Gentlemen on many a quest, and among other acts of justice, he was personally responsible for pecking out one of Professor Jesus' eyes (only to have him replace it with an OmniSight™ 3000 Optic Combat Sphere capable of x-ray vision and LazerShoot©, rendering him twice the villain as before).

Neckwear firmly in place, John waved a familiar wing at Ark and Sailuk, stretched his albatross span, and flapped off into the night sky. Which article of Melhod villainy to target first? All were deserving of hot buttered justice served from dawn till dusk, but there must be order to it! Mid-flight, John fished his Blackberry from his momentarily-materialized suit jacket and shuffled through his dayplanner from weeks' past - who had he scheduled altercations with the least over the previous business cycle? He scrolled through the calendar, scoring the phone's keypad quite badly with his beak. The Dutchess of Denmark, that Scandinavian scoundrel.. John hadn't trifled with her since the start of the recession. He redirected his flight towards the nearest snowy mountain range, where both his accurate bird instincts and knowledge of European stereotypes promised the dreadful Dane to be.

I-ron had not brought a jetpack, nor did he have any sort of magical flying ability.
And so he left through the front door, smiling at the turn of events that had occurred. Things were back on track, and the Gentlemen were making a grave mistake, heading out to tackle his crime gangs head to head.
He would stop the gentlemen tonight, and that was that. No matter what Slade thought.
Suddenly his cell phone started ringing.
"I-ron here." said the gangster, "Talk to me."
"The Gentlemen are headed towards the Snowy Mountains," the voice on the other end said. It was Captain Hacker, the villian teams' chief hacker. Long ago, he had hacked all of the Gentlemen's mobile communication devices, giving I-ron instant access to their plans.
I-ron hung up the phone, dialing a new - more european - number.
"This is Dutchess, ya!" Piped an accented voice.
"Dutchess... this is I-ron. The Gentlemen are headed to your secret mountain base. Destroy them, utterly." and then he hung up.
Surely the Dutchess would destroy the Gentlemen. I-ron had every bit of confidence in his incompetent lackeys, and surely this wasn't the beginning of a long line of lackey's that the Gentlemen would dispatch of quickly, before defeating I-ron himself in a climactic boss-battle.

Hundreds of miles away, the Dutchess laughed, clad in the most offensive, stereotypically European garments imaginable - which was in fact a conglomeration of various European cultures. She wore a tall, British royal-guard hat, a German monocle in her right eye, her shirt was dirty and torn (like anything French), a Scottish kilt, wooden shoes, carried an western-russian AK-47 in her right hand and a Spanish fencing sword in her left. On her back was a Italian flag, fashioned into a cape, and in her pocket (of the kilt) she had a Swiss-army knife, from Switzerland. She had nothing from Norway, which had been disbanded by Pirates several years ago.
Her base was built by the Polish, and as such was very vulnerable to a Blitzkrieg - a tactic sure to be used by the Gentlemen, so close to Nazis as they were (all of Lordly's family tree was in some way related to Hitler, or at least everyone assumed), so she immediately began to assemble a plan to intercept the Gentlemen in mid-flight.
"Launch the VW's!"
Out of a hatch in the top of her base burst an army of flying Volkswagen vehicles, finest in all of Europe, each armed with a machine gun. Inside were Scotsman, finest Volkswagen pilots in all of Europe. The vehicles formed into formation and moved to intercept the Gentlemen.

(Eh... Just skip me for now.)

Ark watched everyone leave and found himself alone in Lordly's Manor. He decided to follow their lead and jumped out of the window that John had broken. He realized his folly in getting hungry at John's presence the moment he placed that characteristic blue tie around his neck. That was no ordinary albatross. That was their fellow Gentleman, John Birdman.

Lacking the ability of flight, Ark opted for the more green approach of running. That Lordly, always traveling in excess. He pointed his snout in the direction of the Duchess' mountain and gave a mighty howl. He always liked to start every adventure with a good howl. Following the epic vocalization, he galloped off at a brisk dash.

Dashing time passes...

The tall, daunting mountain stood before him. It wasn't like most mountains, which were surrounded by miles and miles of foothills. This was just one, large, conical, diabolical mountain in the backdrop of the city's landscape. Ark studied the single, long staircase that led up the mountain. It made him think of that day, which resembled this one in no way whatsoever...

The Gentlemen of Justice were going after their foe of the year, some five years ago or so. She was the dreadful witch known as Obsidian Storm. She wasn't always like that, though. Once she was a kind, gentle mannered young girl living in a hovel with seven abnormally small men. They called her Snow White and cherished the ground she walked on. Until the day she experienced the ultimate evil: the death of one of her small companions, her dear little Bashful. He had become so embarrassed over time that all the blood had rushed to his head and he keeled over in the throes of death. She was never the same from that day forward, changing her name to Obsidian Storm and introducing her dwarven friends to the evil dark arts. She became a threat and nuissance to the city of Melhod, becoming a priority concern for the Gentlemen. They each fought one dwarf, smiting them with moderate difficulty (they were evil dwarves, after all, their power was unmatched in almost all of the land). Then they set their sights on Obsidian Storm. It took many moons to finally bring her down, but finally they had brought her to one knee, where Ark was able to finally rip the windpipe from her neck. Claiming the kill as his own, he began to eat her. None of the others seemed to show much interest in sharing in the kill, so he dragged the rest home, cleaned the flesh, separated it, packaged it and stored it in the freezer to be eaten over the next several months. It was in these few months that he began to develop a strange new power acquired from the evil flesh of Obsidian Storm. It seemed that she had retained some shred of Snow White at her death and this transferred over to Ark, allowing him to call forth nearby creatures with his howl, aiding him in any way he requires. Unfortunately, he had no control over what creatures would be drawn to his call, so his skill often brought to him useless animals. And bunnies. So many bunnies...

Ark snapped back to reality. Sitting back on his haunches, he let out a melodic howl. He was in luck today. A nearby pack of dogs was drawn to his wolfsong, along with a few robins, three marmots, twelve mice, approximately four and a half earthworms and a moose. Smirking a wolfish grin, he bounded up the stairs followed by his awkward entourage, reaching the summit to stand before the Duchess of Denmark's menacing, multicultural fortress.

Lordly, having not given the Gentlemen specific instructions as to who they were going to defeat and was, therefor, not heading for the Duchess of Denmark, blasted through the air away from Lordly Manor (The name of his manor, not to be confused with his own name). He looked around to see to what fowl/foul baddie his companions were each heading to. Slade seemed to be continuing to jet through the air randomly spraying bullets onto the ground, probably killing thousands. All the rest, however, seemed to be heading in the same direction. The District of Europe... The tiny mountain-range/city that was once the great continent before Lordy's terraforming destroy-ray had made short work of it.
"Rosa?" Lordly screamed over the excruciating noise that was the jetpack, "While the rest of the Gentlemen minus Slade get The Duchess, let's us head for Never-Know-His-Name Nathan's Mad Maze. Surely, where it takes all of them to destroy one villain, it would take only me, the leader of the Gentlemen, to destroy the rest!"
Rosa did not reply because she could not hear Lorldy. The jetpack was just too loud.

And so, the two blasted through the air towards Terrible Tower, the largest building in all of Melhod, where Nathan and his gang hung out in their maze. It would take all of Lordly's cunning to destroy such a villain, but he was up for the challenge.
The pair of Rosa and Lordly set down on the Tower's roof. As Rosa was packing up the jetpack into it's convinient carrying case, Lordly quickly kicked it off of the roof. "Why I did it?!" scream-asked Lordly, "Because, once we defeat Never-Know-His-Name Nathan, we won't need it. We'll just be able to use one of Nathan's Hyper-Geese."
The two of them entered the building.

Telekineticking forth, Sailuk gazed into the distant distance. Distantly, he could see something flying towards he and his fellow gentlemen. Unsure of what it was, they kept on flying. And flying. And flying. Then stopped for some gentlemenly tea. Then flew some more.

Finally, they were close enough to hear what was coming; the sound of bagpipes!

"Wait... bagpipes... Scotsmen... kilts... drafts...HAGGIS!" he thought, "HOLY CRAP! VOLKSWAGONS AHEAD!"

In a flurry of screaming neon starfish and lemon-scented bubbles pouring forth from his parkasuit, he did a barrel roll on his leopard and veered beneath them. Devising a most cunning plan of crafty cunning (not to be misread as cunnilingus), and began whipping his screaming neon starfish at the VWs. It was well known that a good bit of sea life could destroy ANYTHING if thrown hard enough, and the starfish, being screaming pointy bastards, sliced right through the VWs.

Indeed, the beautiful rain of Scotsblood had begun.

The airborne VWs appeared almost to be hovering in place due to the Scottish steadiness of their approach. As both a feat of cunning battle strategy and an act of opportunistic product placement, the VW fleet was arranged according to the Volkswagen emblem. Even from this distance, John caught the glint of a Scotsman making killing-you eyes and spotted the automobile pull away slightly from its corporate logo comforts to better lock into combat with bird and bird alone. John albatrotted onward unflinchingly, tie flapping wildly in the wind, as the Volkswagen neared.

A blast of air from the rapidly approaching VW's hood-mounted bagpipe blew John's tie over his eyes. He fumbled with a wing to throw the blue garment from his face as the distance between he and the flying car shrank. The crazed Scottish eyes of the pilot widened. With mere moments from collision, the Scotsman whipped his hands around the wheel to force an emergency turn from his German craft.

John crashed through the windshield of the angled VW, smashing into the body of the pilot and flailing violently within the front seat, motivating shards of glass to bounce haphazardly within the surprisingly-roomy interior of the car (VW - whowouldaknewⓒ). His wings fluttered madly, beating the bewildered Scotsman about the face as his albatalons frantically searched for a foothold, which they found in the form of burly Scottish thighs.

The VW was now spinning enormously out of control, performing a triple-axis airflop. Its trajectory drooped and twisted in a most disastrous manner as John continued to distract the Scotsman more comprehensively than he had ever been distracted before. A blinded man-sized bird thrashing about on his lap, broken glass probably embedded deeply within his upper body with more ricocheting dangerously, the Pepto-deserving stomach upset of Lucifer's barrel roll, and the realization that he'd left a haggis on the stove -- all of these things combined to make this particular moment a highly stimulating one of mind and body.

In the confusion, the VW had reoriented itself to be roughly rocketing back towards the mountain base. John squawked an ear-shredding series of birdshrieks as he continued pummeling the pilot who struggled helplessly against the manbird, with both driver and impromptu-passenger unaware of the mountainous collision immediately awaiting them.

The VW, which was enrobed in flames for no reason, blew through the airbrushed plexiglass of the mountainside, tumbling through the ultra-modern office this particular part of the structure seemed to contain. John and the Scotsman were tossed awkwardly about the Volkswagen's interior as the car rolled viciously over its side and through numerous cubicle walls. The aircar gradually splooshed to a halt after plowing through a bank of water coolers.

John lay unconscious among the Volkswagen wreckage and remains of improbably-exploded Scotscorpse.