Search the Community

September 26, 2011 The West End 9 AM Things were in a bad way in the West End, what with the upcoming apocalypse. The Gorgon was only about thirty-six hours from making contact with the Earth, her silvery shape as clearly visible as Mars in the clear Freedom City night sky, promising a doom for all humanity should she get closer. The Freedom League was fighting the Gorgon and her train in space; the Lab crew had gone into the sky to unlock the scientific secrets of the monster coming to devour the Earth. (Sure, that wasn't technically her mission, but good luck telling that to the man walking down the street listening to apocalyptic street corner preachers pronouncing the imminent doom of man to all passersby.) There was a war in space, but a battle on the streets was imminent. Street-level heroes had been busy catching crooks and putting down disasters, but there were so many threats. The heroes of the West End had reason to be a little understaffed these days, anyway...The flashpoint came outside a local bodega near the Espadas home, when two uniforms from the local FCPD station came out to move one of those doomsaying street preachers off the streets. This gentleman, though, a wide-eyed man with thick glasses and a "PRAY FOR MERCY" sandwich board hung around his neck, wasn't willing to give in. "What's the point of doing what you pigs say?" he demanded, his fear rallying the crowd of onlookers who'd been listening to his sermonizing (and, not incidentally, blocking the door of the San Domingo Market whose manager had called them in the first place) to shout at the cops. "We're all gonna die anyway! The supers have run off! They left us to rot down here on the streets while they ran away into space and into their fancy other dimensions. Don't we deserve the right to have a little happiness now before she takes us all!?!" he exclaimed, pointing to the sky as the crowd roared. Normally West Enders were a bit more skeptical than this, but nerves were fraying. "How dare these fatcat shopkeepers keep what they have when the end is coming. I say, let's take what we want and give them a taste of their own greed before we're all gone! Who's with me?"

September 26, 2011 Jack of all Blades, Jill O'Cure, Miss Americana, Geckoman, Ferros, and Willow deal with some thorny problems. Yeah, Gizmo is running this.

Alright, tell you what, get Initiative up for Mara. I'm going to be using the PL1 Criminal minion from the Core Rulebook for the robots. They won;t be doing any real damage, goal is to tag each of them once before she gets hit three times herself. Training Drones: Initiative. (1d20+2=12)

The senses-shattering conclusion to the Evil!Dok saga! For now, just the six Interceptors -- Colt, Dynamo, Fulcrum, Grim, Jack and Jill -- should post. (They'll find the inside of the house empty, as by now Scarab's already warnedAvenger & Phantom of what's going on.) Others can come in by invite, and other threads may be spun off from this one as needed.

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Terrible Bosses and News. In one of the darker corners of the historic waterfront of North Bay lay a spooky old house, complete with a graveyard off to the side: the home of Jack and Taylor Faretti. In the middle of the seldom-used street which ran by it, a pinpoint of blue-grey light appeared, which exploded into a great sphere. Out of this strode a grim figure in black and blood red armor, followed closely by six figures of equally dark, though very familiar, mien (one notably taller than the others). "Come along, Auffängers!," ArchEvil commanded. "This Doktor has a housecall to make!" ArchEvil stopped mid-step. "Auffängers," he said between gritted teeth, "secure the perimeter... and find the witch, the vampire, and their abomination of a child!"

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Revelations The Brownstone! Home to the Interceptors! Dynamo, Fulcrum, Jack of all Blades, and Jill O'Cure, plus newer members Geckoman, Thrude, and Willow, were in the basement training hall, joined by former members Colt and Grimalkin, who had stopped by to pick up some forgotten items and were roped into the exercise by Jack. Some blocks away, a new potential recruit, Ferros, approached, having been told by Archeville himself -- secretly the founder of the fabled team! -- to come by for a tryout with them. ArchEvil appeared in the basement of the Interceptors' Brownstone, next to Vince's computer core. "Hey, boss-man, the gregarious AI's upbeat voice greeted, appearing in mechanic's overalls on the monitors along the walls. "Whatcha do- yeow! What happened to-" "Attend: Stratus. Nietzsche. Wave. Neper. Tornado. Shark. Venus Flytrap. Viktor. Vince. Viktor." Vince's image froze, the eyes went fuzzy, then his entire form flickered as the long-buried overrides were activated and hidden subroutines booted up. Now the AI was dressed in a very crisp, black uniform, with hobnailed jackboots and a leather trenchcoat. "I obey, Herr Doktor," he said, all trace of his jovial nature gone with the click of the back of his heels. "As shall you all, Vince. As shall you all." ArchEvil walked out of computer core chamber and towards the training room, as a hunchback!Vince began pulling on virtual cords, locking down the Brownstone. He entered the training room, using his Belt's intangibility function to simply bypass the door, so as not to interrupt their session. Eventually, of course, the Interceptors did notice the strange bare-chested fish-man in a labcoat and khakis standing in their danger room.

The continuing saga of Evil!Archeville!

June 1st, noon The figure cut casually up the street, clad in plain blue jeans and a battered brown leather jacket. He whistled merrily as he sauntered along, hands in his pockets. His face was covered with a big baseball cap, a faded green colour. When he got to his destination, the figure casually sauntered up the staircase, and pulled out a letter from his pocket, detailing the specifications of his employment. And, with a wide grin, knowing he was about to annoy some certain people, he pulled a pair of orange goggles up from where they hung at his neck and up around his eyes. And then hammered 'shave and a haircut' on the door.

Date: July 13th 2011 It had been two months to the day that Willow and Thrude had joined the Interceptors and moved into the brownstone apartment building. At least the goddess of thunder and lightning had moved in immediately; once the novelty of being indoors had worn off, it had haven some convincing to get Willow to actually use the room she'd been provided with rather than sleeping in the oak tree in their backyard. Even so, it was in those branches that she could often be found, and so it was there that the fencer known as Jack of all Blades went looking, dressed in simple civilian attire as he stepped out the back door. "Hey, pretty lady," he called, sauntering into the summer sun, "you around?"

It had taken a while, given the hectic schedules involved, but with her brother's insistence, Ellie Espadas had finally managed to find time for her girlfriend to come over to the Interceptor's underground base for a combat training session. Erik was adamant that Mara have at least some fundamental hand-to-hand fighting skills just in case she was ever caught without her inventions. Mildly annoying as the overprotective streak was, Ellie was grateful that her older sibling evidently liked her partner enough to be concerned in the first place, and if in the process the petite engineer ended up in sweaty workout gear, well, that was just a consequence they'd have to live with. While Erik got things set up below, the younger Espadas waited on the steps outside the brownstone apartment building's front door, already changed into shorts and a dark grey vest top and enjoying the sun while she flipped through a textbook she'd brought out with her.

I cannot especially be bothered playing out phone conversations ( ), so just have the guys appear at Siobhan's apartment door.

"So are you listening? So are you watching me?" 6.30pm Friday June 8th 2011 Siobhan Drake sighed as, once more, she was stuck in the tedious task on going through her email inbox and getting rid of all the cranks, naysayers and the occasional threat (and tonight, one slightly scary marriage proposal), to filter down to those people who actually wanted her help. And what she saw made her sit up so rapidly that it dislodged a sleeping Hayley from her perch on Siobhan's shoulder and go crashing into the waste paper basket. <What? What's going on? Who's on fire?> "Get the cordless phone," said Siobhan, clicking her fingers to turn into Equinox and stepping away from her laptop, but not before sending one quick message saying that help was on the way. "I'm calling for back-up."

Fairy Tale, warning, Unapproved NPC still in the works. Otherwise, the build for Military Fairy from AA oddballs will be used as minions for this thread.

GM May 19th, 6:37pm News had been slow to travel, but it didn't matter, there was still time. The prey was shopping, moving around the mortals like she was one of them. Didn't matter, she could move as she pleased, however, that ritual was unacceptable. Not that she'd get to do it anyway. It was not hard to do, child's play really, something easy to replicate, simple magic. The hunter let the illusion was over him, into that of a young man, not much older than sixteen with jeans and a U2 t-shirt. Leaning out of the ally, he watched as she came into sight. The bag's strap snapped with easy, and it was a quick trip to sprint past her and down back into the alley.

As day gave way to night a light rain began to fall, a gentle drizzle that filtered its way down through the canopy of a tall oak to its lower branches. There sat a copper skinned woman with a wild mane of long flowing white hair and a long shapely leg dangling below the bough. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back; a faint smile on her face that would gave the impression that she was enjoying herself in spite of the rain. Willow was humming quietly to herself, an old tune she had heard numerous times in her life. The words always changed with the passing of centuries, but the melody always remained the same. The gentle reminder that all things change, but nothing is truly lost giving her some measure of comfort

In the night sky above Freedom City’s West End, a swift figure in royal blue leapt gracefully from rooftop to rooftop, racing through shadows only to reappear suddenly in the space over alleyways, flipping and tumbling like an acrobat. The swashbuckling swordsman known as Jack of all Blades knew every brick and stone of his neighbourhood so completely that he barely had to look where he was going. And that’s why nobody in their right mind causes trouble on my turf. Which made it all the more surprising when, at the apex of a gratuitously showy aerial tumble, the air seemed to rend itself before him, opening into a wormhole rift through which the flailing vigilante fell! "Gah! I swear if I end up in some Medieval Times knock off one more time..." Jack grated as he fell through warped space uncontrollably, only to suddenly be ejected back out into the night. Now, however, the city around him was well lit my neon light as he reflexively shot off his grappling line and swung down to the street. Looking about, he found that the buildings around him had sprung up into monstrosities several times the size they’d been moments ago. There was no mistaking that it was still the West End; he still recognised a handful on landmarks that had been incorporated into the unchecked urban sprawl, which seemed old enough now to look dingy and in disrepair. "Kansas, Toto, so on and so forth," Jack muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. As the hero attempted to get his bearings, high pitched cackling drew his attention. Out of the alley, a quintet of youths in gaudy, shredded clothes emerged, displaying a menacing mix of oversized cybernetic enhancements and predatory animalistic qualities. "Looks like somebody got lost on the way to the costume party," the group’s jackal faced leader snickered, brandishing foot long metal claws as his gang surrounded their quarry. "Looks like you got lost on your way to the hospital, twip," a bold voice called from above a moment before a young black man in a leather jacket swung down to deliver a haymaker punch to the gang leader’s face, sending him reeling. "How ‘bout I draw you a map?" the new arrival grinned, gleaming white smile contrasting with the spade shaped tattoo over his left eye. "It’s a Fifty-Two!" a thug with mechanical wings cried, attempting to lift off into the air a moment before a willowy girl with shock white hair slipped from a darkened corner and laid him out with a flurry of blows from her metallic bo staff. What first appeared to be red tear drops inscribed under her right eye were, on closer inspection, a trio of diamonds arranged in a horizontal line. A motorcycle -like vehicle that floated well off of the ground roared onto the scene, it’s smirking driver bringing it to a sharp halt in front of the remaining cyborgs. "Ain’t you ever heard of a pocket pair?" he quipped with a distinct twang, patting a stylised set of hearts painted on the side of his ride while the amazonian blonde riding behind him trained an arrow notched in her composite bow on the suddenly outnumbered aggressors. Pulling the bowstring back with muscular ease revealed a club shaped cut-out in her top, made somewhat less alluring by the grim set of her tanned lips. Sensing that they were well and truly outmatched the remaining would-be muggers gathered up their downed friends and beat a hasty retreat back down the alley. A bemused Jack was left to regard his new-found saviours with an arched brow. "Pretty slick moves, there. Thanks." "Heh, no sweat," the jacketed youth assured the swordsman, crossing his arms with a confident smirk. "S’like the old man always says: nobody in their right mind causes trouble on the Fifty-Twos’ turf." "The police may be too afraid to venture here," the brooding archer intoned with more than a little heated anger, "but the West Quarter is not without defenders." "Or good taste," her red haired companion chimed in. "I mean, lordy, splicin’ and ‘borgin’? 2040 called, they want their feeb back!" The joke drew an amused giggle from the otherwise silent martial artist who had hopped up to balance impossibly in a crouch on the top of her staff. "...right." Before the conversation could continue, another rippling portal opened up in the middle of the empty street. "Whoa, think that’s my ride, folks," the swordsman observed, calling over his shoulder as he ran toward the rift and jumped in. "Keep up the good work!"

Ellie Espadas paced nervously back and forth in the foyer of her family's modest home, tugging absently at the bottom of her vintage vest as she made a conscious effort not to look at the clock hanging nearby. Failing miserably, she noted with some irritation that the hands hadn't moved perceptibly from the position they'd been at when she'd checked moments earlier. "You're going to dig a rut in the linoleum, hermaita," her brother noted dryly as he stepped downstairs. Erik Espadas had donned one of his nicer dress shirts at his sibling's insistence, though he'd left the collar unbuttoned. Perhaps more telling, however, was that he'd taken time to shave without being asked. Stopping in her tracks, Ellie turned to give him a baleful look before sighing. "I just want this to go well, okay?" she told him with an emphatic gesture that gave way to running her fingers through her hair. "It's important." "Worried we'll embarrass you, dear?" Gina Espadas asked her daughter, raising an eyebrow as she wheeled herself out of the first floor bedroom, tilting her head slightly to one side with a faint, amused smile. "Yes, exactly!" the youngest member of the family answered immediately, throwing her hands up in the air.

After long years of negotiations, UtiliTek, a proud subsidiary of the Grant Conglomerates, had been granted permission to bring Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, the legendary Grasscutter, from Japan to the United States for analysis in their Freedom City-based facilities. Part of the Imperial Regalia, the longsword had surfaced a handful of times in more recent history as the focus of various supervillainous plans and at least once as the instrument by which a particularly close near-apocalypse had been averted. It's impossibly shard edge had garnered it a reputation as perhaps the finest example of its kind ever forged, and piqued the interest of a variety of groups. UtiliTek hoped to discover the process through which simple steel could be made cut diamond, to be applied in any number of industrial capacities. The Japanese government had not surprisingly been reluctant to agree to the loan, and Grasscutter's arrival in Freedom was nothing short of the publicity coup for the company. As such, before the test were conducted, the blade was being put on display to the general public for one weekend along with an extensive collection of other cultural artifacts on the ground floor of the UtiliTek head office in Hanover. Amid the crowds of viewers was Erik Espadas, a young man from the city's West End with a particular interest in all things related to swords and their use. Wearing a wool lined brown jacket against the February cold and with a knapsack slung over one shoulder, the fencer studied Grasscutter from the other side of red velvet ropes and a glass case. Hm. Doesn't feel magic... at least, I don't think so, he mused to himself, extended his metamagi senses outward with a faint frown. I should really practice this stuff more.

December 23, 2010 It's a cold and dreary day in late December, at least here in the Northern Hemisphere where most people live. It's no better in Freedom City, where a heavy snowfall last night has transformed into dirty ice and slush by the unaesthetic mechanics of life in a major urban area. It's a good day to be inside with a strong cup of hot cocoa or eggnog, letting ceremonial libations shake away the incipient holiday blues. Luckily this is generally a quiet time for superheroes: most supercriminals are people too, and even the ones without Christmas cheer have been socked away at home thanks to the lousy weather. You need a good reason to be out tonight, whether it's carrying out the duties of a government agent's patrol, hunting for last-minute Christmas presents, or else dealing with problems that have nothing to do with the season. - "Growing tired of these lies," said Avenger, leering malevolently down at the snitch he'd cornered in the Fens back alley. There were new heroes active in the Fens, he knew, but these were _his_ streets, and he was possessive enough, and secretive enough, that he preferred to keep his own council even when dealing with notorious criminals. "Christmas will be difficult in prison. Worse in prison hospital." He grabbed the frightened man by the collar and jacked him up against the wall with one hand, a murderous look in his eyes. "Where's the shipment?" "Oh God, don't hurt me, please!" Mondale Tommahan whimpered, still wearing the shattered sunglasses that Avenger had broken on his face and then neatly put back there after dragging him away for interrogation. He'd heard all about the notorious vigilante, about his brutality and uncompromising violence, and watching him tear through his friends in the Irish mob in their favorite bar that evening had certainly put the fear of Avenger into him. "Look, the X-Ray stuff was just a joke, man? What kind of scuzzball would take naked pictures of Lady Liberty-" "A SCUZZBALL LIKE YOU!" Damn, Jack loved the look in their eye when he _yelled_. "Already know you inside. Time to show you!" He went for the machete on the wall, the one that usually had them wetting themselves before his hands were on the blade, but his nighttime exertions were suddenly interrupted as a brilliant white light shone on the wall in a pattern of brilliant hexagons!

10 am, September 21, 2010 Interceptors' Brownstone, West End "Everyone is looking forward to meeting you," said Mona as she and Erin landed, "Even Jack. Well, here she is: the Brownstone." Sweeping one arm wide, she indicated...a large three story house on a tree-lined street. "Really beauty isn't she?" she added while heading up to the front door. She hoped everyone was available. Yes, officially this visit was for a tour, but frankly a base was only as awesome as the team that dwelt therein. She wanted to provide the full tour! Not to mention she didn't know the nuances of the place as well as the long-time residents. Grim, Colt or Jack, on the other hand, were the go-to people for the full package tour. Not to mention the decor was their handiwork. Opening the right side doors, she motioned Erin inside and peeked around, "Anyone home?" The entrance opened into a perpendicular hallway running the length of the house. Just ahead, the archway to a large living room loomed, and on right, another hallway, stairs and a large, open room.

Jack Spade of Earth-Noir Jacqueline des Épées of Erde Sri Rik Espadas of Earth-Electrum Tom O'Hawk of Earth-3W Blaise O'Glory and Circuit of Earth-FC2 Jackolope of all Blades Earth A-Animal-1 Anthropomorphic hare who disguises his identity with a pair of false antlers Callie Burn Earth A-Gender-1 Exasperated den mother to her world's Interceptors Sri Rik Espadas Earth A-Improved-2 Spacefaring Star Knight bringing justice - and romance - to frontier worlds Cdr. Erica Espadas Earth G-Lor-5 Captain of the Ypres and the Republic's best hope against the Preservers Springheel Jack Earth G-Victorian-18 Steam-powered second-storey man with boots of brass and a heart of gold Pvt. 'One Eye Jack' Earth H-War-27 Close combat specialist of a ragtag commando unit operating behind enemy lines Old Man Jack Earth I-Future-52 Elderly mentor to the 52s, the gang ruling a dystopian, cyberpunk West End Jacqueline des Épées Erde J-Nazi-6 (Enemy) Sarcastic resistance leader thwarting the Reich in occupied Paris Tom O'Hawk Earth M-Tech-3 Professional steamboat gambler and secret agent of the President with a magic axe Frère Jacques Earth N-Retro-7 Jovial friar providing counsel to John of Aberdeen and his merry outlaws Jack O'Lantern Earth O-Eldritch-31 Friendly if macabre avatar of Hallowe'en, protecting children from true monsters Jack Spade Earth S-Low-39 Hard-bitten private eye kept alive by shocks of electricity and shots of bourbon Paul Perez Jr. Earth U-Isolate-1 Charismatic actor with a leading role in the Interceptors movie franchise Jack Knife Earth V-Malign-1 (Enemy) Psychopathic drug dealer merged with the spirit of murder Perseus Earth Y-Gorgon-13 (Extinct) Herald of the Gorgon, remade as an cosmic energy being of unthinkable power Joyeuse Earth A-Butterfly-7 Parisian vigilante raised by her father and hunting an elusive cat burglar The Orderly Earth A-Gender-1 Pre-med student trying to keep his sister and teammates in one piece Mallory Practice Earth V-Malign-1 (Enemy) Jewel Wasp's unhinged but loyal enforcer and personal assistant

Erik Espadas tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his dress shirt as his sister helped their mother wheel herself off of the bus and onto the sidewalk. "Is this really necessary?" he grumbled as the trio started off toward St. Stephens. "What, running around in tights makes you too good to go to church with your mother?" Gina Espadas countered from her wheelchair. A dark haired woman in her mid forties, she's made a point of maintaining her athletic build regardless of early retirement. Though her features weren't quite so angular as those of her two children, it was clear where they had inherited their mannerisms. Her son winced. "Jeez, Mamá, trying to keep somebody out of the loop on that, y'know?" The young swordsman was still adjusting to the new situation with his family and secret identity as Jack of all Blades. "Nobody's around to hear," Ellie countered, stifling a yawn and absently smoothing a crease in her black pants. "Everyone else is asleep at this hour." With her hair cut shorter and dyed dark, the resemblance to her mother was considerably more pronounced. "You'll live, dear," Gina opined wryly, easily rolling herself up the church's ramp. "Late nights," Erik stated, holding the broad door open for the ladies. "One more reason to rethink this 'sidekick' thing, hermanita." Ellie responded with a snort as the family entered the building. "That's 'partner', hotshot."

Earth-Prime The swashbuckling hero known as Jack of all Blades vaulted over the brick outcropping encircling the top of the decrepit building he was sprinting across, his royal blue greatcoat flaring open as he leaped through the gap to the next rooftop. The buildings in this part of town weren't tall enough for him to grapple between, but he found himself relishing the opportunity to return to his neglected parkour skills. Jack was following up on a series of increasingly frequent thefts from electronics stores in the West End and the surrounding city. Vince's digging had turned up a likely suspect, but the recently fired Professor Manning, despite allegations of instability from his previous employers, had an airtight alibi for each crime. A little too airtight, Jack mused as he paused briefly to perch like a gargoyle atop a streetlamp and observe the area. As good as Vince is, a little legwork was definitely the order of the day.

The swashbuckling hero known as Jack of all Blades rarely patrolled too far outside of the West End, but with the slow expansion of what he viewed as his personal protectorate, he found himself swinging through the more developed parts of Freedom City with increasing regularity. The brilliant blue summer skies had drawn him toward Liberty Park and its surrounding condominiums. Flipping through the air as he released his grapple line from one building and launched it immediately to the next, his acrobatics took him over the heads of the citizens below, royal blue greatcoat flapping behind him, and a fierce grin of sheer athletic joy fastened to his face.

Natalya Browning, better known as the incomparable Bombshell, was still wondering how her erstwhile lover managed to talk her into things as she swung out across the city to the late-night meeting. She was still bemused by being on the side of the angels again as the Scarab put it, let alone going and talking to some newer heroes about 'mutual problems'. However, she'd agreed and so, here she was, swinging through the West End and looking for some address. It wasn't, of course, the actual head quarters, just a neutral meeting ground spot. Fortunately, she had a rather large amount of practice for finding buildings while no where near the street, so after a short search, Bombshell released the swing-line to flip through the air and perch on the edge of the roof. She stood up out of her crouch and stretched, stepping down onto the roof top proper.