Cool Homosapien

Moe was stunned by the words coming out the old man's mouth. She looked at the body on the floor, hoping the man was lying, but she didn't detect any emotion coming from the lifeless person on the floor. No, this had to be some cruel joke. Her powers didn't harm people. Her powers took people's minds and made them think different things. Sometimes all at once. But thoughts weren't dangerous!

Moe looked to the man, not trying to read his mind - that was fruitless - but she stared holes in him with her blank black eyes. Something didn't seem right. Right now she was quiet for a moment. Opening her mouth only wanted to lighten the mood. Now was not the time. Confounded now that one of the girls that vehemently opposed the boys was now trying to revive her harasser.

"Casey, dear," she knelt down and spoke in their shared tongue with a voice that evoked the calm she was feeling, "you mean well, but he's right." She looked Casey in the eyes, trying to make things right. "Let me tell you something, I read emotions. That's my gift. Right now you are a stew of them. But this will pass." She was trying to skip around the fact that she had no remorse for the guy laying there, but the death may have been her fault. She was not a killer.

She looked up at the old man, speaking in English again. "I'm going to stay here. You are too. We're going to figure out what happened."

Morgan Stern

Power Level: 7, 10-15

Unspent Power Points: 0

Trade-offs: None (PL 7), -3 attack and defense, +3 damage and toughness (PL 10-12), variable (PL 13-15)

In brief: Satanic-born Joker. Evil for the sake of evil.

Catchphrase: "I'm going to enjoy this more than you!" before madly cackling.

Theme: "Last Caress" The Misfits (PL 7), "Immortal" Clutch (PL 10-12), Instrumentals, either epic or somber, depending on the situation (PL 13-15)

Alternate Identity: Public, Morgan Stern

Birthplace: Louisiana

Residence: None

Base of Operations: None

Occupation: Criminal

Affiliations: Evil

Family: None that he knows

Description

Age: 47 (October 31, 1970)

Apparent Age: late twenties, early thirties

Gender: Male

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 174 pounds

Eyes: Amber

Hair: Brown

In his normal form, Morgan reaps the benefits of good genetic. He has unassuming 'sweet' looking face with a smile that could stop even the hardest of people. He has a slim build, some would say feminine or androgynous. His hair is unkempt and mussed most of the time. In fact, that's how he looks all over. A rugged disheveled man. He does clean up nice though.

His clothing style depends on what he's doing. When not committing acts based on his impulses, he dresses down, sweatpants and gym shirt that show his slight form. When 'motivated, he dresses for the crime. Going to steal things? Dark clothes. Going to gorge himself? Probably loose clothes. Going to murder some one(s)? Anything that'll let him get close.

History

Morgan's parentage was one devil worshiping woman and the devil himself. The woman summonsed Old Scratch herself and offered her body to him for his service to her. Instead of killing her outright and wandering the land again (he still had business down in Georgia), he fed into her fantasy of having power over him. Plus it would get those pesky mystics off of his back. It lasted for a while, but The Pact being a thing and Lucifer not really wanting to keep his word to this silly mortal, just disappeared one day. He left a note for the woman, 'take care of the child, see me through him'.

Morgan was born 13 months later. He looked like a normal human child, but his soul carried the taint of his father.Morgan grew up with his crazy mother who doted on her beautiful satanic child, letting him get away with murder (and other crimes). Morgan lead a carefree hedonistic lifestyle for most of his life. Thinking he could get away with anything. Until he met his first hero to oppose him.

Star Lass was a thorn in his side as his atrocities piled up. She was utterly disgusted by him, but he 'loved' her in a crazy way. Committing crimes just to make her show up, killing other heroes who dared to interfere. With his silver tongue, over time, Star Lass fell 'in love' with him too. She became his closest companion, taking the name of Le Garce. Morgan and Le Garce made headlines all over the papers until the thick of the Dark Age came.

Morgan and Le Garce were murdered by some hero. He doesn't even remember their name. It was the first time Morgan had died. His fiendish soul resurrected him immediately and transformed him into a demonic monster. He killed the murderous hero in the most gruesome way possible. So much so that it didn't make the papers. Le Garce's death was blamed on him too. After a while, Morgan returned to his 'normal' form. Though he knew of his 'insurance' now.

Sometime later on, Morgan learned an even more dark secret. After dying twice. He was sucked into Hell to meet his father. Satan grinned, greeting his son. He told him that those first deaths were all just setup. Play time. But he would empower his son one more time if he felt like it. Morgan, wanting to be alive and doing things rather than in Hell, accepted his father's gift. The unsuspecting group of heroes that had just put the monster down were 'treated' to a dark surprise when Morgan came back powered by Beelzebub. No one remembered the names of the fallen team. But the world would know of the power of Morgan Stern!

Personality & Motivation

Morgan is driven by the evil impulses in his soul. Not to say he's a whacked out loon (though sometimes...), he knows his way around a sweet or inspiring word. He's his father's son when it comes to that. His impulses sometimes want him to be 'good', in the fact that you attract more flies with honey than vinegar. It's an act. It's always an act.

Powers & Tactics

Power Descriptions

In his normal form, Morgan looks perfect. Nothing can mar his beauty. Even drug through the mud and beaten thoroughly, Morgan somehow appeals to people. His father's genetics allowed him to stop aging in his late twenties, and made him immune to fire. If he dies, He will immediately transform into demonic form.

In his demonic form, the pretty falls off. He's a huge beast with rough unbreakable skin. sharp fangs and teeth that pierce all but the strongest of objects. and a baleful howl of hellfire that burns and demoralizes. Sometimes, he even has wings. If he dies, he will disappear and teleport to his father's throne. The Demon King knows why he's there and will give him one more chance. But it will take time, a day at least.

In his final form, his father fits him with a form and demonic powers that fit the death. He could be the normal Morgan form, he could be the beast, he could be anything in between. Either way, the final form is something that is awe-inspiring and terrifying. If he dies in this form, his father will hold him for a while. (This is PL X and fitted to plot. It might not even happen.)

Demonic and Final forms last 24 hours. After which, he returns to Normal form.

"Thanks, Klara," she said before ordering a peppermint eggnog. Non-alcoholic, of course, she flashed the X on her hand. "I really enjoy reading the stories about your exploits. I uh," well I'm not new I just-" She was interrupted by the cute couple. Moe still thought there was some beautifying agent in the water she wasn't getting. She smiled at the munchkin joke. She'd heard worse! "Oh, no," she laughed and flipped her hair playfully, "I'm just a Barbie in training." She looked to Gretchen with a polite nod back, "good evening."

Silence, awkward awkward silence. The gang of boys back in their seats, the girls standing around, the punk she just Emotion Fried on the ground and the old man attending to him. After Frank's brandishment everything got super quiet. Moe still watched the two tables. "Don't worry," she spoke to Casey in Japanese again, "we'll take care of this. I'll take personal responsibility."

She went to the back where to cook was. He was minding his own business, jamming out to the tunes in his earbuds. Poking him, she waved the orders. He smiled, "quick pace?" Moe nodded, "definitely." The distracted guy got a hustle on. Walking past frank, she got the soft drinks, delivering them to the punks. While she was irritated with them she remained her table-side manner. They weren't going to pay, she knew, but hey, maybe they would leave a tip. Maybe pigs would fly.

While Moe was a bit of a busy hobbyist, she could understand people's doubt. She worked on vehicles, raced, painted and drew, collected tons of information on current news and entertainment. The only time she wasn't active is when she was sleeping. And she ut a lot of that out to make room for things. If she weren't a nervous wreck about the whole vampire thing, she'd attribute her psychic awakening to doing too much stuff. Her eyes did brighten a bit when Sharl mentioned Miss Americana. She was the pretty superhero from her youth that saved the city from beasts. Well, not alone, but she inherited the mad doctor's business. It would be an honor to work with... wait, wasn't Citizen supposed to be working with her? Apparently Moe's knowledge was not up to date!

She looked over Sharl's back at the scenery below. He wasn't lying. It was very beautiful. Being a city girl, she couldn't live without civilization, but having been on the road for a bout a month, the nature she'd seen. The rolling hills and mountains. The plains and forests. "Yeah," she said adjusting her voice for the wind blowing, "I hear you. The city life is for me, but I get that we need places like this." She looked to Sharl, him obviously navigating, "you're alright Sharl. I mean, a selfless person who put away things just to help out a person who lived 3000 miles away?I really wish we could hang out more later on."

taps the the quiet mic

Everyone doing OK?

Moe had never been flying before. Not even by plane. Now being up in the air with Sharl her only way of holding on. "The motorcycle is mine, Sharl." She beamed, her eyes showing a prideful violet. "Built her over the past year or so. I'm really into building and taking care of cars and bikes. It's one of my favorite hobbies."

The view was, well, a bit blurred, but she guessed he didn't want to go the scenic route. He had responsibilities other than her, being a hero of his city and all. Moe had heard very few tales of heroes from Emerald City, but it was on the rise. Still the beautiful was a sight. Flying this fast and being magnetized, she left her phone in her jacket.

Mind Reading Power Check: 1d20+10 24

Mind Reading the old guy doctor. She won't deep dive. Surface thoughts.

It didn't take an emotion reader to see what was blatantly happening in front of her weird little eyes. The cute blonde had a real mean streak when push came to shove. Moe just wanted to get these bad guys out of her environment. It would be too coincidental if she just started popping them all right now. So the red-haired one would happen to serve as the first warning. If they got worse, another one would go down. Don't mess with her place of work.

Moving out of the crowded area, she looked at the 'doctor' as he checked on the red-haired one. She focused on him, skimming his outer thoughts to check if he was on the up and up. Moe didn't want another person to deal with.

Moe looked 'shocked'. If anyone looking at her eyes knew what the color in her eyes meant, they would know she had a satisfied yellowish color. "Frank," she said looking over at her boss, "we have a medkit right?" She looked to the girls, "Sorry you had to see this, ladies." She looked to Blue, "I'm sure you and your buddies know what you had before you got here, right? The paramedics will need a list." Moe stood her ground as the other toughs tried to come in close, "stand back. Give this boy some room to breathe!"

So Moe is going to use the distraction to her advantage. Poking the red haired punk to try to try to overload his emotions (a Will save Stun 10 effect). Now if successful, it'll look like he's flipping out more than usual and disperse the scene. The effect is subtle, so they wont know it came from her, right?

Sleight of Hand on Rooster: 1d20+2 17

Bluff on Rooster: 1d20+10 27

DC 20 Will Save if it hits him.

The situation just got a bit more tense. She didn't want to reveal herself, but these lunatics were disrupting business. Something she saw Frank was none to happy about. But these guys? Nutters who wanted a squirrel. Unfortunately, it looked like the belle was playing into their madness.

Moe tried to play it cool, walking over to the table the thugs were at. She poked Rooster with a sleight touch. If successful he wouldn't even notice her as his emotions went haywire. "Hey, guys, your drinks are at your table," she said trying to get them to focus on her, "drink be merry, tis the season!"

I'm not sure how Detect Emotions with accurate and acute works. But Moe will use Detect emotions on the girls and the punks, in that order. Since it's not Subtle, Moe's eyes will shift colors to the emotions she sees. Mood ring colors if you want to play along

Moe had been to the West End only a couple of times since she'd been in Freedom City. She never really needed to be here in the first place. But a place called Morley's got a lot of good talk. It was an Irish style eats, drinks, dart, pool. Of course Moe was too young to drink, but the ID check at the door made sure she got one of those nice little Xs on the back of her hand. The place was quiet. Christmas music softly wafted through the air.

There were some obligatory games, darts and billiards. She would have wen there, but she saw something... someone. A giant woman. Moe didn't mean to gawk. She'd just never seen an actual giant person before.  "Hello," she said looking up to Voin. Even though she wasn't right up on her, she still had to turn her head upward.

Great, the 'perks' of working this area of town. She could count on her hands how many times these strange groups came through here. They were mostly 'harmless'. But every so often Frank would have to go through the insurance and then, well, he had to call his benefactors. Though these punks would have more to deal with than the police if they messed with Joe's. Namely her. Their emotions read as hyped up. She wondered how spiked they were. Maybe they'd just wear off and then go home.

The college girl, Casey, was more fluent than Moe thought. "Well then, your teacher was very good," she replied, "and you learn very well." She looked over to the table of rowdies, her eyes showing a green flecked with red. She spoke to the sorority group while looking at the table across the way, "you ladies need anything, let me know.

Moe stepped forward and then power walked over to the group of smack heads. "Hows it going, guys," she said loud enough to talk over them saying different things to each other. Five people, five different conversations. They seemed to know what each other was talking about as none of them would stop talking until she cut through the madness. They all centered on her. One of them stood up on a chair, a guy with eye contacts(?) that made him look blue-ish white like his hair. Theme was going on. "Lady, we called for the stuff. The madness in a cup. Only then will our thirst be quenched, Asian Smurfette." Another one in black nodded, "you can get me one of those chick's numbers over there." They all looked over. Moe pinched between her eyes, this was going to be a long night. "You guys just looking for drinks or can I get you something to chow down on?" The one in black smiled with sharpened teeth, "meat. dripping meat" Moe wrote down 'cow' and made note to watch the one in black. "Time to put down Bessie, Frank. Also five goldens."

Heritage, I'm not trying to make fun of Casey in character or out of character. Though I feel like I'm doing so! Please have an apology if I offended you.

Lola's flirtations did not go unnoticed. Moe was straight but not narrow. Still, professionalism. She nodded as the college sister spatted. Taking her hand back when Lola flinched. "Thank you," she said appreciative of the comment about her eye, "around Freedom here, you see a lot of things. You know? The whole hero thing isn't for everyone," she lied. Just earlier today she was skulking around, making criminals regret their decisions. "You just learn to live with what you have." They weren't here to hear her life story.

The last one tried to speak Moe's second language. Not that she wasn't fluent in her mother's tongue. But she was born in California, the first ten years of her life travelling across the states picking up English from all parts until she settled in Freedom ten years later. But the girl was nice, and pretty - who wasn't around here? Freedom must have good genes in the water or something - so Moe bobbed along, writing everything down, looking at Casey as she kept adding thing. 

"Alright, I'll be right back with those egg nogs, girls," her eyes turning a golden yellow, happiness, looking at Lola. Turning to Casey, she spoke in Japanese, "you have very good diction. Please, learn more."  She walked away from the table, "Frank, four golden nogs, Get the kitchen ready, we got a hungry crew!"

That's nothing. Michael Phelps (olympic gold medal swimmer) allegedly eats 12,000 calories a day while training.

Now that she was calm in her thoughts. She could think, possibly out load, about her helper. 2000 miles on the road couldn't clear her head, but a few words of help made everything better. Had she not been keeping herself mentally sedated, she would have been all for this. Calm was the best emotion, she thought.

She nodded when he mentioned the show, "I've seen clips of it online. Any show that gives you superheroes vs dinosaurs is awesome in my book." She mentioned a few other scenes too. She was well versed in the show and superheroes in general. Naming a few obscure ones for the trivia. After she got done chatting one sided (mostly), she stopped.

"I really don't mean to talk your ear off. And I would love for this situation to work out. The taking me back thing." She  looked, squinting a bit, as if to let the calming effect go. "Just to let you know. I'm not going to freak out, but I've never actually flew. In anyway." She pointed to her motorcycle, "can you take her with us too?"

Her eyes widened when he knew about it. How much did he know? "I, uh," her eyes turned panicked light purple, "no I really can't, Sharl. I mean, I'll accept help but I can't just be dropped off in the middle of a bunch of teenagers. Do you know how much emotional stuff happens. I, I can't. Anything but that. Maybe some psychics one on one." A picture of a beast in a meat shop ran through her mind. She flinched trying to calm herself down, taking a bit of her energy to do so. Opening her eyes, she was under the influence of herself. The purple had turned into dull calmed grey. "Sorry Sharl, but you have to understand. I accept your help. But maybe we can refine where I find help?"

Cold summer was weird. She inhaled the air, to mellow out some, but it stung.  She coughed some. OK, don't do that again. She looked to Sharl and tried to recall, but the hunger blurred everything. "It was a couple of weeks ago. At least a month. I was in school. And this overwhelming headache. And then something clicked in my head. I didn't see people I saw blurry outlines, even with my eyes closed. When I did close my eyes i found that my eyes were bleeding. Everyone stared at me in fear, shame, awe. I saw all of it and I wanted it all. But a little part of my brain said run. And I ran." She closed her eyes, "I don't remember what happened next. When the pain stopped I was in an alley. a man with a costume and a giant gun laid at my feet, unconscious. But breathing."  Opening her eyes, they were pure black, sadness, "I didn't want to face anyone I knew. My bike was  with me. I made one trip home to suit up and leave. I've been riding ever since."

Smile for the nice girls, Moe. She could be her own harsh critic, but she'd been burned before. And these were part of the sorority. She didn't know Greek lettering but knew Greek lettering meant sorority. "Evening ladies," she said while getting four menus. "walk with me. As you've heard my name is Moe," she pronounced it the correct way. Coming a clean booth - the bus boy was sure dragging ass tonight - big enough for the four women, she ushered them as she put the menus down. Her eyes were a bright blue type of hopeful mixed with a darker dash of doubt. "What can I start you off with. Coffee's hot. Tis the season, we have peppermint and pumpkin spice flavors. Also egg nog." She leaned in close, "just between me and you the egg nog is the best if you know what to ask for." And hopefully they would be graceful with their tips with their tongues loosened.

Mentat. Psychic. Pronouns she was stuck with for life now.  She looked up with dark eyes, trying to keep her tears back, wiping them from her cheek with the back of her hand. "Uh, not really," she pointed to her custom motorcycle. "I've been riding for a while. Freedom City." She laughed dejectedly, "I guess it makes sense. You stay around weird stuff you become weird stuff." She faked a smile, dark eyes showing she was not truly happy, "Sharl," she said before clearing her voice, "I really don't know if I can be helped." She began to chuckle nervously, "at... at least I can be around you." Oh god, this sounded weird. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, like when I get around people with," now that would be insulting, wouldn't it? She angrily kicked a rock. "My power is to eat people's emotions. I can't be around people." She stopped herself. "Wait, are they all like you?"