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  1. GM Post Since you've been approached, in secret, only a few months ago you’ve all been training to become the newest version of Claremont’s own super team the Next-Gen. The seven of you have been training to operate as both a full team and as two smaller teams imaginatively called Team-A and Team-B. And now both teams have been assigned their own mission. Team-A Riverside Park 13:20 Wednesday 2nd July 2014 Whilst Team-B seem to have been sent of what you assume is a wild adventure you’ve been assigned a much more mundane task. You’ve have been asked to investigate sporadic signals of alien origin that have been detected emanating from the park over the last couple of day. It could be nothing but things are still a little jittery after the events of last years, that even managed to affect Claremont itself...
  2. Freedom City April 2014 The Crime Lab (Remote Site) Richard Cline was not one for advanced planning most of the time, but then again most of the time he wasn't going back to dinosaur times. "All right, the advance team has been on the island for almost a week, and they haven't run into anything larger than a Great Dane, so I think we'll be all right." He let one of the techs pop a USB into the computer's port (something he had deliberately notmastered), playing what looked like an iMovie recording of a mostly-deserted tropical island, complete with birds in the air and animals on the beach - until the viewer saw the teeth and scales on the feathered fliers overhead, or realized that those weren't dogs fighting over the washed-up fish on the beach. The island looked to be in the center of a small bay, with low hills and a river visible on the opposite coast a few miles away. "They're almost exactly at the site of Chicxulub, good good. We're lucky that island was there, the ultralights they sent out said it's all swampy marsh on the mainland." Fred Tanzin, the second unit director for Supercrime!, focused on the special guests. "We'll do some footage of you for the promos, either here in the studio once you come back or while you're in the field. We're still on for filming all the way from the 22nd through the 25th, local time. I know you've had a chance to read our briefing packet and be introduced to the on-air talent - but do you have any questions I can answer for you about the show?"
  3. Ari

    Underwyrmed(IC)

    GM J.P. Morgan & Chase Bank, Mcullough-Adams, Bayview, Freedom City July 2nd, Wednesday, 2.45 PM, 2014 The day had begun like most others on a summer day on the American east coast. For Freedom City it had been even more mundane than usual, everything that made the city such a dazzling gem of multi-faceted weirdness lying low as the sun beat down. As the day had veered into afternoon, hopes had slowly strengthened that maybe today, today nothing would happen. The bank tellers at Bayview's biggest Chase branch had begun to relax, smiling in relief as the hours ticked down to closing. They were cheerfully helping the last trickles of patrons before the big late-afternoon rush, chatting idly with each other when the burning men crashed through the roof, landing on the floor in a stream of flaming wreckage. One, covered in something like an astronaut's ">suit but red and emblazoned with a yellow lizard on the shoulders and chest, pointed a square black thing vaguely shaped like a gun at the tellers. "Out." his voice was soft as it crackled over a radio, but icily compelling "Now." "You heard him, gents!" sang out another of the gang, similarly-suited but weaponless save for a flickering heatwave around her "That insurance money won't steal itself! And we don't wanna hurt you, but-" a wave of heat slammed into one of the steel walls as she gestured carelessly with a hand, melting a hole clean through it "-we sure won't cry if we have to!" The other two were silent, the stocky one in a black suit opening their helmet to release a cloud of smoke that drifted up to the ceiling, starting the fire alarms' screaming wail. The last, a spindly figure in vivid yellow, snapped their fingers. To the terrified eyes of the tellers, guards, and patrons, flames seemed to leap from the floor, heading straight for them! From outside things weren't much better. A comet seemed to flash out of the sky and hit the bank, the fire alarms went off and the people inside came charging out, screaming and frantically beating at themselves. It was the kind of sight that made every nearby Freedonian look reflexively up at the sky, and wonder why, just why it always happened here...
  4. June 19, 2014 Waterfront, Freedom City The evening patrol for the three young heroes had gone well - very well indeed. They were all on the rooftop of a closed fish market, watching down below as a small group of gangsters smoked cigarettes, cursed, and waited for their rendezvous. Word on the street was that a big player, maybe even a Crime League member, was going to arrive on the docks tonight to meet with the triad leaders below to discuss an upcoming deal - that meant that a savvy trio of young crime fighters could potentially catch some big fish tonight. Of course, that assumed everyone was going to show up. It was a warm evening, at least by the standards of a New Jersey summer, with a warm breeze blowing in from the sea that made the air humid and slick against spandex uniforms. In their suits and ties below, the triad men didn't seem very happy either - one older man with a short white beard kept looking at his watch, while another with a shaved head was reassuring the others in a voice loud enough to carry up to the roof that "He'll be on time, don't worry, don't worry!", something that he seemed to find quite amusing. It wasn't a normal patrol, that was for sure; the air seemed pregnant with anticipation as dark clouds billowed in the eastern sky, as if a real storm was coming. Of course, if that happened their targets just might get back in their sports cars and head home.
  5. "Typical. Truly typical." Sekhmet's resigned sigh was largely lost behind a rattling boom as the concrete below her feet was struck by an arcing fireball the size of a small electric car and exploded violently. The goddess recovered with feline grace and continued her brisk pace alongside the more winded Set as they fled. "Aye, well, mayhap you could reserve your breath for running, oh Lady of Slaughter," the godling suggested as he hastily ducked under the chunk of metal propelled towards his head when a nearby fire hydrant was cleaved in half by a searing red laser beam. The taller Heliopolian did not look quite so concerned. "Too match pace with thee? Hardly necessary, liesmith," she assured him, though her stride quickened slightly after she glanced over her shoulder at their pursuers. "Methinks a training regimen may be in order." "I've considered hitting the gym," Set admitted, strain ruining the conversational tone he was attempting. "Don't want to bulk up, of course..." "Hardly seems a danger." "My, someone tis feeling catty today." "Tis another who should work on new jibes." "For once, I did not intend that as wordplaaayiie!" Another fireball sent a somewhat singed godling tumbling in an undignified tangle of limbs before he could scramble against the cement and back onto his feet. "I am now prepared to admit that assistance would not be remiss!" With a flat snort, Sekhmet reached down and picked Set up by the back of his neck, giving him a chance to find his stride again without losing too much of their head start. "Truly, I am shocked. The mortal Freedom League, then, or proven allies such as the water magister." "Eh? Nay!" Set objected crossly, pumping his arms with renewed vigour as he sprinted. "Think of the embarrassment, Sekhmet! I would have none who think reasonably well of me- ah, us to bear witness. ...ah! Inspiration!" Snapping his fingers, the godling abruptly turned on his heel heading toward an alleyway. "Keep our new friends occupied momentarily, oh Mistress of Dread!" With that, he dove into a shadow behind a dumpster and disappeared. "Of all the-- Set! Set! SEEEEET!" * * * * * On the well tended campus of Claremont Academy, a shadow passed over the relaxing Will Cline as someone approached from behind him, blocking the sun. "Hail, buuuddy!"
  6. Ari

    Underwyrmed(OOC)

    OOC thread, for resolutions and discussion, this thread. Playing with fire, playing with lives.
  7. Let's see, go ahead and give me an unmodified d20 roll for this one.
  8. Let's see some Initiative rolls! Plus any Knowledge or Notice checks you think may be relevant.
  9. Monday, January 6th, 2014 10:34 AM Wharton State Forest It almost hadn't happened. The weatherman had called for unseasonably warm temperatures through the end of the year, and the people behind the festival had talked about how to keep the ice from melting. Then everything changed when the weather blew up cold and windy; the Freedom League rallied metahumans and were managing to keep the worst of the 'polar vortex' at bay, but it did mean ice and snow for Freedom City and the Winter Festival was on. As the King family van pulled into the well-plowed parking lot of Wharton State Park, Gene King tried to remind himself that all that was good news. He should be happy that the heroes were keeping snow and cold to a manageable level -- but part of him couldn't help but think that this was precious extended Christmas vacation time being taken away from video games.
  10. For all the rolls and suchlike in >this thread.
  11. Midtown, Freedom City, New Jersey The Goodman Building Friday, February 7, 2014 Despite the recent heavy snow, it was business as usual this Friday morning in Freedom City. The roads had been cleared, and though there were still piles of snow scattered about, it was otherwise just a rather typical, cold, winter day in the busy city. Mali Benjawan was driving a small white van through Midtown's busy streets. Normally, she would still be in classes at Claremont Academy over in Bayview Heights. But today she and a number of other students were departing for a rather unusual field trip that would last over the weekend. Inside the van were four of Mali's fellow students. Sitting in the front passenger seat was the one Mali knew best, Elias Silvestri, and the second oldest present. Seated in back seats were Georgia Montgomery, William Cline, and then the student Mali knew the least, one of the school's newest, Ralf Steiner. But Mali had little time to think about her fellow students riding in the van, as she maneuvered through the tight traffic along 40th Avenue. Then up ahead she saw their destination, the massive steel frame of the Goodman Building, its mirror-finished windows gleaming in the mid-morning sun. The top five floors of the Goodman Building was home to the famous Atom Family, one of whom would be acting as the chaperone and guide for the group of Claremont students on their outing.
  12. GM January 19th, 2014 Freedom City Fingers fly over a keyboard faster than the eye can see. "Dear Set II? Set Jr? This is Clock Queen, and it's high TIME we got together and talked about your old man. I'm in Freedom City right now and it's gloomsville around here. If you remember where the old Set put his stuff, you should meet me tonight at eight in the warehouse where the old Set kept that helicopter with the giant snake face. He really dug those snakes, hah-hah. Don't keep me waiting! Your good friend, Clock Queen. PS: Is it true you're just seventeen? BUMMER." With the email message set, Anne Cline sat back in her son's house and sighed. She'd been in this house nearly a week now; Paige was grieving her father, Dickie was helping Paige, and the kids knew their parents were going ape without hardly knowing the reasons why. She'd come up immediately from Florida when she'd heard they needed help, and was glad to do it. But it was sooooooo booooorrrriiiinnngggg.
  13. A DC 20 Bluff check reveals that's not Samedi at all, but an imposter. Initiative time! Richard goes on 15+27=42 Samedi goes on 21 Clock Queen goes on 23+12=35
  14. 2AM (Los Angeles time) December 5, 2013 Richard Cline sipped his coffee and checked his 1989 Chrono-Quartz digital watch, a 20th anniversary present that he would get tired of about the time his son stopped asking him when he was going to learn how to text. Six am in Freedom City. Better get moving. "Juanita," he said, slapping a twenty down to pay for the several cups he'd drunk that morning, "your coffee is great every night, but this stuff?" he picked up the cup and winked, glad as ever he'd found this greasy spoon diner instead of the trendy coffee shops everyone else seemed to hit in LA. "Totally radical." He stepped out of the shop, let his feet hit the pavement - and ran. Back in the late 90s when he and Paige had been trying to have a kid, Richard had sat down for the first time with a science-type and figured out how his powers worked. Behind all the nerd stuff, the German guy they'd hired had been pretty straightforward: first he emitted a chroniton field that stopped time all around himself, freezing everyone and everything in a nanosecond bubble of no-time as his powers washed over everything like paint on a tie-dyed shirt. And then he turned his power on himself, accelerating his own subjective time so that he was running faster than a man, faster than a plane, faster than Johnny Rocket, as he laughed at the sound barrier and reached his typical cruising speed of 20,000 miles an hour. At the end of a run, he reversed the process, slowing himself back down again, then restarting local time so that he synched back up with the rest of the world. From Richard's perspective, though, it was like this - Olvera Street slowed to first a crawl, then a stand-still as Richard sprinted down the zigzag brick street. Pause. A moment later, as acceleration kicked in, the city erupted to life again as Fast-Forward rocketed down blurred LA streets faster than a jet could fly, Richard's phenomenal reflexes turning speeding cars and zipping bikes into so many standing-still slowpokes. Play. As he left the LA basin behind, Richard reached down his watch and hit the timer button, a smile curling his lips. "Time to fast-forward!" he exulted as he hit hypersonic speed, the wind in his face like a summer breeze as the world became a series of slow-moving images and garbled sounds, the thousands of miles between LA and Freedom City falling away like a sprint around the block. 8 and a half minutes from LA to Freedom City. Four slow, slow minutes buying a box of assorted doughnuts at World's Fair in St. Louis. His watch beeped at 6:13 as he hit the streets of Freedom City and Richard slowed down, coming to a halt just outside the Cline family's brand-new front door at six-fifteen on the dot. He glanced down at his watch and turned off the little timer, keeping a grimace off his face. Fifteen minutes to go cross-country. I'm turning into Don freaking Ameche here! He pushed that thought down, reminding himself that today wasn't about the old man, today was about his boy and the family taking him to school. Holly was asleep, or at least her lights were off, but even still there was no burdening his little girl with her dad's unhappy thoughts. He glanced back at the white picket fences around the house and opened the door; his leather jacket was hanging up and costume in his belt buckle faster than a normal man could blink, and he set the box of donuts down where they'd stay warm in the kitchen. All right, time for breakfast...Freedom City was cold, so reluctantly he turned on the electric stove, flipping his way through five or six cookbooks until he remembered where he'd left Will's favorite Mexican bacon and egg recipe. This was a big day for the kid - better get it started off right!
  15. Port Regal, Freedom City, New Jersey Cline Home Tuesday, February 4th, 2014 William walked into his family's home with less than his usual vigor and energy. He was oddly subdued and, unusually, glad his father wasn't home. His mother could feel the relief. She'd felt Will's subtle probe and inquiry earlier, when he'd been "told" that his father and younger sister were out and about in the city, likely getting into some sort of trouble. William wasn't carrying an overnight bag or anything (not that he needed one; he had enough supplies at home to split his time if he liked), and didn't even have a backpack full of homework. He just had a couple slightly wrinkled sheets of paper clenched in one hand. He moved into the kitchen, looking for Paige. "Hey, uh, Mom? Where are you at?"
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