- species: Human Enchanted
- Occupation: Vigilante
- Gender: Male
- Height: 6 "
- Weight: 200 lbs
- Eyes: Black
- Hair: Bald
- Age: 25
- Alignment: Good
- Sexuality: straight
Intelligence - 5
Strength - 3
Speed - 2
Durability -7 (unbreakable bones)
Energy Projection - 5
Fighting Ability - 3
Muscular peak of humanity
Powers and Abilities:
- Bone Shell (Flesh becomes bone, momentary indestructible)
- Shatter (Brakes bones on impact)
- Skeletal Siphon (absorbs bone fragments from nearby bones)
- Bone destruction (a spell cast through the gun Mr. Bone uses)
- The eliminator (an enchanted gun that destroys bones on impact)
- Dragon satchel (slowly absorbed by Mr. Bone preventing him from absorbing bones from allies)
I am Mr. Bone, once the world knew me under another name. That is now all in the past, I realize now that humanity isn't the only scum on these streets and this new look is as cold as the villains whom I seek out. Not to mention it puts a chill in their spines to see me coming, dressed like a reaper. Everything had to change, big guns were now a thing of the past. A new aresonal of bone style weaponry I crafted and would surely do the trick against most foes.
I tracked down an old shaman friend and had him cast protection charms over the bone suit and the weapons. I never thought it worked but figured to not go into this half ass. He happened to hear of a perfect test site, a voodoo master was practicing in the area.
Papa Legba, a voodoo diety was sitting in the dwelling... we under estimated the presence of the practitioner but were prepared for a battle either way. Two men began to rise from the ground in a rage running towards us. I struck my bone plated glove against the head of the charging man, and he flew backwards and began to claw at where I struck him ...digging the flesh off and bleeding out where he stood. The shaman slamming his staff into the ground tore the floor boards out beneath the man approaching him causing him to plummet into a dark abyss. Papa laughed, took a blade from out his sleeve and stabbed into the table where he was summoned cracking it in half and fading before our eyes. The shaman blew a powder to try and hold the spirit but it did nothing but sprout roots on the flooring.
That was confirmation enough that the protection magic did something, the shaman gave me once last thing ... a tattoo of a skull, telling me that for as long as I wear this symbol or have it near my bones will never break. I shook my head again, and walked out thinking to myself he means well but what a crazy old coot. I bid my friend farewell and he handed me a pouch of dragon bones crushed into a powder telling me to inhale it if I'm ever in dire trouble. I keep it close, I'll just say that. I am Mr. Bone and evil doers beware.