DND in DC

AN: This is a dnd character of Wizard 21 with access to epic-level casting.

The feats he has is Brew Potion, Craft construct, Essence Mastery, Silent Spell, Skill Focus (Knowledge(arcana), Spell crafting, still spell, craft magical arms and armor, craft wondrous items, empower spell, forge ring

Essence Mastery is from Feats book by Alderac Entertainment Group.

Chapter 2

Clown Is Down

Batman P.O.V.

In the dead of night, in a room filled with investigators and law enforcement combing through the plans of the Joker, he stood there. His stare was focused on that one spot. The spot that once contained the remnants of a man who damned so many people he loved and others loved. The man who ruined generations of people across Gotham, who filled whole graveyards with bodies for his sick pleasure.

He should feel joy for his death and his guaranteed prevention of an afterlife. The man can no longer take from him. Take from anyone. Apart of him did.

What he also felt was guilt. Guilt that he couldn't save him. Whether or not he deserved saving was irrelevant. As a hero who swore to fix this city and save the people of it regardless of their actions. He had to try everything. Now he doesn't get the chance. He still had Harvey. He still had Victor. He still had Harley. He still had villains that he knew somewhere inside them was someone he could save. To help them come back from the brink.

But first, he had a mage to catch. He knew of magic from his various studies and his colleagues like Zatanna and Doctor Fate. He could recognize a few symbols at a glance but based on the footage he had been reviewing since the mage showed up, the magic was alien to him. He would send everything he had on it to the League to see if anyone else encountered this style of magic.

As he entered the Batcave, decorated with the uniforms of his Robins and his own suits, trophies of villains they defeated. He sat on his computer, screens the size of cars displaying the footage from a suspected place of origin of the mage alongside a clear picture of where the mage first appeared. He saw within seconds how the mage accessed the situation and made himself vanish after sending out 2 white-colored duplicates to the streets of Gotham. They fanned out for a few minutes before turning invisible.

This was not some wet behind-the-ears magic wielder. This was someone comfortable with his magic. He was someone who had a significant amount of practice with it. Who was comfortable enough to decide to kill someone whom he didn't even know about till minutes later from a TV.

He also noticed he was unfamiliar with his surroundings. He stared at the MCDonalds sign like it was alien to him. He had the same look when he saw the cars and the TV. Either this young man was unfamiliar with the 21st century or hadn't left wherever he came from for a while. He might not even be a young man.

What he did know was that he had to find him. He murdered on live TV. Regardless of whether the man he killed was evil to the core, he still needs to be stopped before he kills again or worse.

He just has to find him. At least so he could see if he was still in the city.

3rd P.O.V.

Dive bar out of the way

The woody scent of cigar smoke and fine liquors hung in the bar air. It was a gathering place for villains and ne'er do wells of Gotham looking to have a drink without the risk of a certain caped crusader swooping in and breaking. A true wretched hive of scum and villainy, some would remark. It had its fights and quarrels, but for many, it was a place to just drink their bat-related troubles away.

But tonight was different.

Inside, at one of the larger tables, five patrons sat together.

A lady in a black, skintight catsuit traced a clawed fingertip of her glove along the rim of her martini as her eyes watched with feline attention.

Another was a man with one side of his face horrendously scarred and disfigured with a suit matching his complexion. Between his scarred lips, rested a cigar- in the middle of being lit. And although no one could see, the lighter in his hand shook ever so slightly in shock.

The other lady at the table was dressed like a cross between a punk rocker and a clown. The shattered glass of her drink dug into her now bleeding fist, but she didn't seem to notice as her eyes were locked on the live stream.

Beside her sat a man who dressed somewhat normally but the question marks across his clothes and his green hat prove he is among colleagues. His gloved hand was pressed to his mouth as he desperately tried to figure out what he was seeing.

The last man was the oddest one of the bunch well-behaved. But the wood of the table had cracked where he had been gripping it with his blue power armor. His eyes shone through the frost-clear glass-like dome on his head as he watched the events that played out on the screen.

Over a hundred eyes were glued to the great flat screen that spanned wall to wall- displaying the live stream that changed the world. The gravity of the situation displayed above them was enough to make the entire bar fall silent. The bar had its quiet moments, but never silent. The last time it did was when the news of the actual apocalypse had broken out. The universe didn't end then, of course. But it was strange that the current occasion warranted the same undivided attention as the literal end of the universe.

The Joker was dead.

It wasn't The Batman or any of his Robins or allies.

It wasn't a hero; it wasn't another villain or even a cop.

It was a random mage or someone pretending to be a mage turning him to dust on the spot with very little fanfare. There was no debate of logic or yelling like how the villains around the world were used to. The mage didn't even speak to him when that thin green beam hit him and unmade the clown prince of crime. If his next actions were to be believed he even denied him an afterlife.

He died with the same effort one would put into filling out a form or shopping for groceries.

One person in particular had the most visceral reaction.

To say that Harley was shaken was an understatement. The man who made her who she is now. The man who broke her down to remake her into something he desired only to get rid of her when she started thinking for herself was dead. She didn't know how to feel. Some small part of her still cared about him in some twisted way. A lingering trauma that would never quite go away. Another small part was glad that he was dead. Dead and worse than damned, no longer causing pain and suffering that was like a universal constant. Neither of these parts are settling, the booze isn't helping either.

There was a long pause before the information set in. and then the cheers started. It started off slow but with one clapping leading to two, two to four, and so on. Soon every non-crook was celebrating. Couples hugged their significant others and coworkers clinked glasses together. Family embraced family while some even wept. For the man who ruined the lives of thousands was gone.
For most, this would mark a turning point for the city. A chance for things to start healing. At least for a while. But the hope was there. Quivering and small but there. The world over considered this to be a reason for celebration and to be noted down in history.

For others, however, it was a mixed response. For those whose lives involved convoluted schemes and having fights in the streets, this meant a turning point. The last time there was someone willing to kill them he stopped before he killed any of the big names. He even started going back to his mentor's laws of zero killing.

Now there was someone who could, who would. This man, whoever he was, was willing to cross that line. He was willing to kill them.