Gotham: A New Generation (OOC)

[United States of Brainy]

I shall also be waiting in suspense. Hopefully it is good...

Mwahahah, it is!

[Auphelia]

Mwahahah, it is!

Ooh, an evil dictator! I love this thread!

[United States of Brainy]

Villain APP:
Name/Alias: Ruth Bingum/ The Queen
Age: 42
Gender: Female
Appearance:

(Image)

Personality: As Ruth she is very warm and personable, but when she is The Queen she is very cold and calculating.
Faction: The Order of Reapers
Affiliation: Penguin, who was a business partner of her father and a family friend
Race: Human, but better
Backstory:
Ruth was born to the Bingum family, one of the richest families in all of Gotham. They own the Bingum Bank and the Bingum Brokerage Firm, the second largest bank in Gotham and the seventh largest brokerage firm in the world respectively. The family has a well appointed mansion/palace in Bristol County, and have lived there since before the Wayne family was a blip on the map. Long rumoured to have connections to the criminal underworld, they have never been connected, though upon the deaths of her father and mother (natural causes, no foul play) all rumours have stopped.
When she was young Ruth longed to sing, in love with everything musical. She played the piano, violin, and even tried the xylophone, but her true love was with her voice. She taxed her voice to the limits, but it worked. Upon graduation from her basic education, she received offers from universities over the world who wanted her to study in their musical programs. She chose, left for several years, and eventually returned to Gotham once she was done with her travelling and education. She desperately wanted to be able to begin her career in Gotham, but her parents refused, telling her that their daughter would not be some beatnik performer for the masses. They locked her up at home, effectively killing her life outside of the walls of their massive estate. For a little less than a year she spent her days walking outside, singing in the outdoors, wishing she was in front of a crowd.
By next year her parents had died in a bear attack on their property and she was starring in Chicago in the Gotham Theatre. Two years later the owner of the Gotham Theatre has died of a series of bee stings, her rival in the company had been killed when her dog went berserk, and everything fell in place. Now, almost twenty years later, she is a celebrated member of the artistic world in Gotham and one of the foremost philanthropists in the world of music. Her generous donations have led to her being a member of the Gotham University Board of Trustees and being instated into the Gotham Hall of Fame.
Some have linked her to the now infamous villain The Queen, one of the many who have come out of the woodwork since Batman left, commenting on their similar singing voices. However, most of these people are later killed, and so the rumours have died down. Someone that rich and successful being a villain makes no sense. No sense at all.
Powers/Weapons/Tech: She has control over all life forms, weakening as the intelligence of the controlled is increased. This gives her total control of insects and the like, general suggestive power for animals, and can cause minor involuntary reactions in humans like tripping or coughing. Her range for insect level intelligence is roughly the size of downtown, her control with animals is roughly three city blocks in each direction, and with humans they have to be in sight.
Weaknesses: Fire and electricity are the bane of her existence, and people who utilise them are her most hated foes, as living things are not great at surviving such forces. Also, her "subjects" still have needs, making it difficult to stockpile weapons like others do. On a personal note, she will do anything to protect her voice and beauty, the things she holds most dear. She will risk anything to keep them.
Skills: She is highly learned and her voice is quite brilliant. She is also great at running in heels and a heavy ballgown.
RP Examples:

She stood in the middle of a field. Her feet and ankles were sinking into some kind of thick, clay like mud, a thin layer of water over it and dotted with densely packed small plants. Rice, perhaps? This seemed like what a rice paddy was, though seh had only ever seen them from a distance or on the internet. The gritty feel of the clay dug in between her toes and under her nails and she flexed her feet, digging in to the cool softness. Flies and mosquitoes buzzed around, and the rushing of water filled the air around her with a calming background noise. The sun beat down on her, and she looked up to see an azure sky, dotted with thin, wispy clouds. Cirrus, if she remembered correctly, was what they were called. They gently floated across the sky, making their way leisurely towards the horizon. She looked around and saw a few dozen women dotted around the field, bent over, picking out even smaller plants and tossing them into assorted baskets rhythmically. There was a pattern to it. Search, pluck, toss, repeat. When a basket, seemingly woven out of rushes and wide but shallow, was full, an apparently designated woman would take the full basket and begin to walk to the cross the paddy and past other women, who would continue doing their own work. The basket woman would reach the end of the field and keep going. The observer turned, watching as the woman walked across a wide, muddy bank, and then with a deft toss threw the contents of the basket into the river. Seemingly wide and flat, the beige river betrayed its true speed by quickly taking the weeds away. She watched this process for a time, none of the women looking away from their tasks long enough to notice her. This was a nice dream. Not one of her most interesting ones, but a pleasant way to spend her sleep. Certainly better than that horrifying clown from the other night.

The sun began to sink behind a tall hill, the tallest of the gentle slopes that dotted the western horizon. The paddy women began to straighten up, stretching their backs and their knees, letting the knots and cramps out. The basket woman began to collect them, ten baskets and all, for what appeared to be thirty women. They began to file off to the west, away from the river, when one woman saw her. With a cry the woman pointed at her, and all of the women turned their heads to see her. Several of the women smacked the shouting woman, seemingly chiding her for yelling at what was only a woman. Others murmured among themselves while staring at her and a few, the basket woman included, headed over to her, making their way through the thick mud. They plodded along, expertly making sure to not crush any of the plants. Eventually they made their way to her, and the two other women stood respectfully behind the basket woman, who she could see was only slightly younger than she was. The basket woman spoke, her voice strangely muted, her mouth not matching the sounds it was making. How odd that this woman would speak Hindi, but for some reason her brain was translating it as English.

"Who are you, strange woman? Why have you no clothes?"

A character in her dream was speaking to her. This most certainly hadn't happened before. Then again, her dreams had never seemed so realistic.

"Excuse me? What are you talking about?"

"You are covered in the clay of the earth and standing in our rice fields, naked. Why are you here?"

"I'm not sure, dream character. Why am I here? And where is here?"

"Near . . ". A name came out of the woman's mouth, something indecipherable, when suddenly her voice went clear again, " . . . Village 1. Now answer my question, you try my patience. Who are you and why are you standing naked in our rice field?"

Naked? When she looked down she did indeed notice that she was naked. She had often heard that children dreamed they were naked at school, but had never had that experience herself. Normally she would be scrambling for cover, her mother's lessons from her youth to be ashamed of her body having permanently scarred her, but it was a dream, so it was fine.

"I am Indira, and I have come from-"

A mosquito bit her.

She felt pain.

She never felt pain in her dreams.

She began to notice other little discomforts. The way her thighs were rubbing together, her knees aching, the beads of sweat that matted the wisps of hair that framed her face onto her cheeks. This was real. Real. She was in a field, speaking with a Chinese(?) woman, in the middle of the day. Impossible. She locked her door and windows, she had nothing to fear. Had she been kidnapped? No, that couldn't be it. She had to be calm. Focus. Don't give into the hysteria. It was fine. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Calm. Okay. Assess.

You are alone in a rice field with around thirty women. They were probably weeding the rice fields. No advanced technology around, no cloud cover, no air planes, next to a river, naked, somehow able to understand the language of the natives. There are mosquitoes. Okay. This makes no sense. Just . . . calm . . . oh my goodness . . . . okay . . . calm. Breath in, out. In, out. Ugh, that never works. Stupid method. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Just play along. Then find a phone and call for help. Yes. Call for help. Get to wherever they live. Why is she staring at me? Right, respond. Don't faint. Breathe.

"I am Indira, and I have come from a village far from here. I got robbed by a group of men, and they took everything. Um . . . are you headed back to your house now? May I join you?"

The woman looked at Indira suspiciously, but given her advanced age and the fact that she was a woman the basket woman did not seem to deem her a threat. The wrinkles around the woman's face, leathery from years working in the sun, released, relaxing as she let down her guard. She gestures at the woman who holds her baskets and the woman bows and hands them to her.

"Yes. You may come back with us, elder. We will take you to . . . Chieftain . He and the council will judge you and determine if you may stay. Why have you come here?"

That was a good question. Why was she here? There was no logical explanation, there was no way this was a dream, and she was pretty sure that if she was crazy it would feel far less real. Something was at work here, something beyond her. Perhaps there truly were higher powers at work. Either way, she was somewhere in rural East Asia, possibly thousands of kilometres from her apartment in Mumbai.

"I have come here . . . to . . . um, I am travelling. You know, looking for a good place to settle down."

"Settle down, at your age? If you say so, elder. Now come, follow me. We will take you to the village."

The woman gestured for Indira to follow, and she, the two women, Indira, and soon the other women began to walk. They made their way through the large rice paddy, and went up a large hill that framed the paddy. They followed a well worn path, bare dirt roughly five metres wide. To either side was green grass and shrubs, behind the paddy and river. Then they reached the crest of the hill and she gasped. This was not good.

Below was a valley surrounded by gently sloping hills, and in the middle was a large village. Surrounded by a large trench, there were dozens of houses, medium sized round huts, each with roofs made of some sort of golden brown material. These houses were collected into clumps of two or three, surrounding a wall preceded by a second trench. Beyond the wall she caught sight of the roofs of several more houses and large buildings. It was difficult to judge the scope of the village due to her distance from it, perhaps a kilometre, but it was fairly large. Outside of the village spread large fields, with several paths and crude fences separating the different zones. Dozens of people dotted the land On the far side of the small valley there were animals, perhaps pigs and sheep, but it was hard to tell from a distance. One thing was for sure: this was nothing like the world she had come from.

"This is the valley of our village. We are very lucky to have won this spot so near the Great River. As you can see, we grow rice in our paddies near the river, and near our village we grow wheat and millet. Beyond the far walls we have an orchard of a few dozen peach trees, and soybeans grow in large patches there as well," the woman seemed to be quite prideful of her village, talking about it like a mother would of her favourite child. "We are the most prosperous village along this river!"

"Oh, that sounds impressive. How far does this river go?"

"As far as we can tell, forever. There are the ten villages, of course, as well as three who have angered the River Goddess and had to leave or else face her wrath. Then there are the bands on horses who occasionally come and fight our men, but we are strong and repel their attacks easily. I suspected that you may be one of them, but your skin, like the colour of clay, you are unlike them. Unlike any we have seen here."

"That was . . . quite expository. Thank you. And my skin is different because I come from a land far to the south, where land meets water that seems to stretch on forever."

"Yes, you are a mystery. We will have a village feast to honour your arrival, but only the Chief may decide if you may stay here. Much work is to be done, and no offence meant to you, but you do not seem capable of good work."

The woman rudely looked Indira up and down, her nude form exposing how odd she was, thin and wrinkled inner upper body, but her thighs a but too large. The woman stopped and the procession of women stopped as well, all looking at her to see why they had stopped.

"You cannot enter the village like this. Cloth girl, come here."

A small woman, barely out of her teens, scurried forward, a large pack on her back and bowed to the basket woman. She seemed like a skittish girl, nervous and twitching.

"Give this woman one of the spare dresses to wrap around herself. We cannot bring her to the Chieftain looking as she does. Now put this on," she commands, shoving a coarse sack of a dress towards Indira, made of rough hemp. "It would be unseemly to come before the men of our village without clothing."

"Yes, madame."

And so it was that they moved on, walking the long dirt path through the fields of grain, making their way to the village in the valley below. A new chapter of Indira's life had begun, the last, and the longest chapter for it stretched on into infinity.

She followed the group as it chased the image of an animal across the sky, some sort of lump that they swore was a marsupial. She kept quiet at the scene for a while, and watched her children start looting the old woman's dead body. She would have told them to stop, but she was thinking too hard. The gears of her mind churned for the first time in months, struck out of the minutiae of lunches and lacrosse games. It felt great, invigorating, absolutely marvellous! She had hoped that joining a superhero team would have helped her, and little did she know it would begin during her first meeting.

As she mulled the woman's last words she noticed her son was beginning to gnaw on some sort of claw, previously having been lodged in the woman's hand. Her son then opened the corpse's hand to reveal that she had been holding some sort of . . . as yes, a wad of money. Quickly intervening she swooped in like the hero she was (or would be soon) and deftly tossed her son to the side, got her eldest daughter's hair unstuck from the clasp of the old lady's hand bag, and scooped up her youngest daughter so she wouldn't start crawling up the woman's dress to look for more valuables. And then it hit her.

She turned to the man, the Captain of . . . Commerce? Something. She handed him a pair of gold earrings, a bag of mints, and the wad of money. She then dumped her daughter on the Tea man, where she promptly began biting his neck, and grabbed the money back. Flipping through it, she realised it was several hundred USD worth of bills, with various expired coupons and Monopoly money bills interspersed. Odd, but perhaps it would help with the Infinites' financial worries.

"Captain Cardinal, after some . . . likely illegal investigating by my children, it would appear that this woman was robbed by . . ." she quickly pulled her son up off the ground where he was beginning to try to burrow into the pavement, plucked the claw out of his hands, and promptly dropped him once more. Then she shoved the claw into the man's face. "A WOMBAT!"

Her eldest daughter gasped on cue, but it turned out she had merely choked on a piece of the poor Tea man's costume, where she and her sister were attacking him. Her son rushed over to join, knocking the man over, the entire group falling into a nearby open sewer hole. She would have fretted, but she always managed to get stains out of her children's clothes. She really was a perfect mother.

Extra Information None at the moment. If there is anything extra it will most likely come up in the RP.
Day Job: She the most treasured singer in the Gotham Theatre Company and owner of the Gotham Theatre and the Gotham Opera House. She is also on the board of Gotham University and a well known philanthropist.
Living place: A mansion and estate in Bristol County and a penthouse in the Diamond District.
Voice Actor: Christine Baranski
Likes/Dislikes: She enjoys control, wealth, and power. She absolutely despises filth and grime, but ignores it when dealing with her insects.
Theme Song: Money, Money, Money by ABBA
Did you read the rules? Yes. I didn't see any tricks or key words though, so I feel hesitant in saying yes.

I LOVE IT! ACCEPTED! Just one question- does she use her voice to control animals? Because we already have a character (Edict) that uses her voice to control people.

[United States of Brainy]

Ooh, an evil dictator! I love this thread!

I am! I'm the Queen of Despair! The Mistress of Misery! So, don't stink eye me!

[Auphelia]

I LOVE IT! ACCEPTED! Just one question- does she use her voice to control animals? Because we already have a character (Edict) that uses her voice to control people.

No, she doesn't use her voice to control them, she just likes to sing and show off her voice. And I'm glad you like her!

I am! I'm the Queen of Despair! The Mistress of Misery! So, don't stink eye me!

I myself am quite the dictator in my own region!

[United States of Brainy]

Hey, Yaana! Did you want to try for an intro post tonight or just wait for Crane to blackmail you? I mean, don't feel like you have to wait if you want to write an IC post tonight.

[United States of Brainy]

I myself am quite the dictator in my own region!

Oh, I'm sure your subjects are suitably oppressed. Hey, check out the IC and if you see an 'in' for your character, go for it and post!

[Auphelia]

Oh, I'm sure your subjects are suitably oppressed. Hey, check out the IC and if you see an 'in' for your character, go for it and post!

Ooh, pushy! Either we are going to tear each other apart or get along famously!

[United States of Brainy]

Ooh, pushy! Either we are going to tear each other apart or get along famously!

Awww...you're so friendly it's adorable.

[Auphelia]

Awww...you're so friendly it's adorable.

Thank you! If you need a region to call home, The South Pacific is a great place!

(And I could use the votes in the upcoming elections! )

[United States of Brainy]

Thank you! If you need a region to call home, The South Pacific is a great place!

(And I could use the votes in the upcoming elections! )

Okay, for anyone interested, i posted in IC. It's not my best work but its serviceable.

[United States of Brainy]

Nice post, Auphelia!

[Tiekerrick]

Now are we giving time for everyone to have at least a chance to post their introductions, or into conversations if opened?

[Bycrest]

Working on my post, it gonna take some work to get Riddler involved with anything.

[United States of Brainy]

Now are we giving time for everyone to have at least a chance to post their introductions, or into conversations if opened?

Yeah, good idea, Tie. We'll give it a day or two, give everyone a chance to post their intros. After that, if you're involved in a self-contained conversation with one or two characters, you don't have to wait until everyone's posted until you respond. For instance, The Queen just approached D'Arte for a one-on-one. You and her can just reply back and forth, you don't have to wait for everyone else.

Hmmm...on second thought, if you want to reply to her now, go for it.

[United States of Brainy]

Working on my post, it gonna take some work to get Riddler involved with anything.

Do you need help? Because I'm more than willing to brainstorm. TG me.

[Bycrest]

Working on my post, it gonna take some work to get Riddler involved with anything.

Do you need help? Because I'm more than willing to brainstorm. TG me.

I've got an idea, it's just the process of extending it into an apropriate post.

[United States of Brainy]

Okay, I'm taking off now. Night everyone!

[Yaana Noore]

Hey, Yaana! Did you want to try for an intro post tonight or just wait for Crane to blackmail you? I mean, don't feel like you have to wait if you want to write an IC post tonight.

I went to sleep there, but I'll probably just wait for whatever is being set up for me.

[Ormata]

A rich lady? Lookit that, a new target for Isaac.

[Tiekerrick]

I sure hope nothing bad happens at the library. There are a lot of people who don't get along there.

[Tiekerrick]

Just a heads up, I am tweaking my introduction by changing the book and topic. I reevaluated the probable plot for D'Arte and found a better subject.

[United States of Brainy]

Just a heads up, I am tweaking my introduction by changing the book and topic. I reevaluated the probable plot for D'Arte and found a better subject.

Forcing me to use Google translator, are we?

Oh, had a great idea! What if...Echo and Query and Harley are friends? Like being sidekicks to psychopaths gives them something in common and brings them together?

Edit-maybe Scarecrow doesn't blackmail Harley. Maybe Echo and Query ask Harley for help and that's how she gets drawn into things.

[Tiekerrick]

If you really want to try to figure out D'Arte's reason for the books, you have to figure out not what they are, but what they have in common.

[Bycrest]

If you really want to try to figure out D'Arte's reason for the books, you have to figure out not what they are, but what they have in common.

Dealings with Norse mythology?