Quinn

Lost my roll, but folks saw it anyway - failed by two. Still going BZZZZZZZT.

Okay, who left the keys in the prison lunchroom? So! Seeing as how my ex-con superhero Breaker's been approved and put into the list, I think it's a fine time to scramble together a story that I was hoping would be his first! Before Project Freedom lets him out, that is. AvengerAssembled has very kindly agreed to set up a prison break thread, with a pack of villains attempting to escape Blackstone prison, and a squad of brave and courageous heroes attempting to stop 'em cold! With maybe a little unexpected help from the inside. Thinking about 2-3 other people, at this point - anyone interested?

"...no." He did, however, take a few seconds. Removed, from his pocket...it looked like a stone - with a graven image of a single rune on it. It was slid across a table to her; the fae refugee could likely sense the tiniest bit of magic in it, waiting to be awoken. "...commlink. Message stone." A gesture to it. "...call what you will. Emergency. Hold rock. Speak at rune. We will come." The mask stared eerily at her, the harsh lines and grim colors a strong counterpoint to Blodeuwedd's soft and diplomatic demeanor...though it had nodded in approval when that taste of iron had entered her tone. The girl had spine, as had been amply demonstrated before. And it was always pleasant watching her work. A few seconds passed before the harsh voice spoke again. "...good you weren't involved. Keep it that way." And with that, the quiet black figure padded down the hallway to the door.

Player’s Name: Quinn Character’s Name: Breaker Power Level: 10 (150/151 PP) Trade-Offs: -0 Attack / +0 Damage, -0 Defense / +0 Toughness Unspent PP: 1 Progress towards Gold: 01/60 (Silver Status earned with Crow) In Brief: Ex-Liverpudlian Small-Time Crook Turned Ex-DNAscent “Volunteer†Turned Ex-Superpowered Gangster Turned Project Freedom Hero. Alternate Identities: Frank Flynn, Subject 24. Identity: Markus Flynt Birthplace: Liverpool, England. Occupation: Project Freedom Volunteer Affiliations: Liverpool Underworld (past), Freedom City Underworld (some contacts), Iron Hands/Knights In Shiny Leather Gang (current), Project Freedom (current) Family: None living. Age: 35 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 7’0†Weight: 325 lbs. Eyes: Blue Hair: Neon Green Description: A wiseacre in the Iron Hands once described Markus as a ‘walking wall of hair and leather’, which, while earning a pretty fair amount of ribbing, isn’t entirely inaccurate. Standing a solid seven feet tall (seven feet twelve inches including his neon green mohawk), Markus Flynt is a big man in pretty much every sense of the word. Broad shoulders, a bodybuilder’s frame, arms lined with whipcord muscles, stout legs, with the whole kit and caboodle usually stuffed into heavy biker leathers (though nowadays they tend to be less studded and somewhat cleaner – also, the emblem of a heavy steel helm with a knight’s crest has been plastered across the back of the jacket; with the words ‘Knights In Shiny Leather’ stitched below it). His face looks pretty standard for the life he’s lead; chiseled jaw, kinda squashed nose, sloping forehead, and blue eyes that are often (sorta incongruously) given to smiling (and usually these days covered by a domino mask). History: If you asked Breaker about his history, he’d make no bones about it – he was a bad man. He thought he’d be a bad man from cradle to grave, truth be told; born in one of the worst parts of Liverpool’s dockside to a dad who spent most of his days drinking or hauling contraband for cash, and a mom who up and vanished as soon as she realized just how much of a deadbeat Mr. Flynt was. Truthfully, Markus doesn’t hold it against them or anything like that; it was just the way things were in that area of town. And you had to be tough to survive. Make no mistake, Markus Flynt was tough. His dad was no slouch in the broad frame department, and the son inherited that with interest – by the time he was fourteen he’d been running with a gang of young troublemakers, knocking over mailboxes and shaking down everyone not them for lunch money; and by the time he hit eighteen he was running the gang, knocking over convenience stores, and shaking down store owners for protection money. To be fair, he worked damn hard with his gang to make sure nobody got seriously hurt, but the rule of the day was always look out for number one. S’what his dad did, his mom did – and it worked out fine for him, even when he got rousted by the law now and again. He never did enough for them to hold him long. Eventually, he got picked up by one of the larger outfits in the area as a legbreaker and collections agent – more often than not his burly frame and meaty hands causing them to cough it up before he even had to bust out a lead pipe or brass knuckles. He quickly got a rep in the underground for that, too – guy knew just how to squeeze the last bit of cash out of the deadbeats, how to hunch his shoulders just right to scare the living daylights outta people; and when an offshoot of the Circus Maximus came to town, trying for an international rep? Those hulking muscles of his (exercised every day, said his prayers, and ate his vitamins, our boy did) got him not to the top spot, but a respectable place in the semi-finals; before this chica who could turn her fist into a sandy sledgehammer knocked him ass-over-teakettle. He tried asking her out after that; he suspects the chutzpah was what kept her from putting him through a wall. And he also suspects making it to the semi-finals was what got the attention of people who like to play with syringes. Markus was walking home from the pub one fine January evening – it was bitter cold, he remembers that vividly – when he got blindsided by a pack of thugs jumping out of a nearby van. Hunching up his collar let them blindside him, or so he says; two of them he took out with heavy haymakers, before everything went shocky and fuzzy – the jerks hit him with a taser. When he woke up, he was...somewhere else. Truth be told, it’s still all one big blur. He remembers a surgeon’s table, strapped down, strange men with masks and syringes hanging over him. Chemical tanks, floating in one, pins and needles all over him, before more pain than he’d ever felt before or again. Voices talking, fancy science words he still doesn’t understand or comprehend. Doors growing too small for him, tanks too small, everything too small. Running obstacle courses in a haze, tunnel vision forced on him by...something. Drugs? Pharmaceuticals? He still doesn’t know – but it made him pliable. Lifting things he could never have lifted before. Throwing things distances he could never have managed before. Jumping, climbing, ploughing through walls and buildings. One memorable time, being jabbed with something that just made him so...so angry – so furious, so full of rage he tore a tank to metal shreds as it desperately tried to evade his berserker fury. That, coincidentally, was the day he escaped. The makers of the drug had done their job too well – they’d thought his enhanced physiology required more of the substance, but would burn it off relatively quickly; and they overdosed. So when the guards and their shock batons came in to subdue him, he bowled through them like so many pins – knocking them aside, into walls, across great distances. He tore through that laboratory like a whirlwind, only remembering small snatches afterwards of the chaos, the tumult, the noise – he just wanted it all to stop and the angry to go away. He doesn’t talk about the escape much, these days. Ultimately, he broke out – kicking a huge metal door open and fleeing into the wilderness; rapidly losing his way. They tried to surround him with helicopters and such, but one mighty LEAP (he didn’t even know he could do that!) took him higher than he’d ever imagined. As he saw the sun, breaking through the clouds, the rage was already ebbing...and when he tumbled and plummeted back to ground wheeling his arms and yelling like crazy all the way down, impacting and making a small crater in the middle of nowhere, it was pretty much gone. Replaced with a wicked headache. The rest after that is a bit of a blur; mostly from the concussion and wounds – he remembers hotwiring a pickup truck he’d found somewhere, driving just in random directions hoping to shake off...something...he doesn’t remember. It might’ve been a whole day, it might’ve been a week; either way, he didn’t stop until the truck ran out of gas on the edge of Freedom City limits (it was bright and shiny in the distance, so naturally he drove towards it). After that, his arrival was fairly stereotypical of those arriving to the City Of Heroes. He ducked into a hostel and took stock of himself; arriving in the superpowered capital of the world, muscles on muscles on muscles, with nothing to his name and no idea how he was going to get home, in an orange jumpsuit, and likely pursued by nasty fellows in black suits with syringes. And like hell he was going to let them take him again. Yeah. He needed help. He needed help, he needed manpower, he needed a power base, and he needed money and clothes. Probably not necessarily in that order; but if they came to grab him again, whoever they were, they’d be really damn surprised. And hey, there were a lot of bosses here in Freedom City who’d like some superpowered help, right? Couldn’t be that different from the Liverpool underworld. Oh, how wrong he was. From there, his rise through the Freedom City underworld was fairly well established – at least by the FCPD. Started with brawling at a few fight clubs, establishing his credentials as muscle. He worked for a lot of the small-time villains; The Magician, Scrounge, even had a brief stint working for Trawler II (he was awfully helpful carrying the big things out of the water – though after Siren put him through a whirlpool to keep him busy while she was tangling with Trawler, and he came out with eyes spinning and a headache fit to burst, he didn’t do that again!). FCPD files noted, however, that he didn’t stick with any of them. He just kept bouncing from villain to villain. They assumed it was just a case of money-by-job, rather than dedication. And, in part, that was the circumstance. But... Truthfully, Markus was slightly discontented. Back in the day, he’d run his crew in Liverpool fairly clean – sure, they ran the protection rackets, shook down folks, and generally made themselves nuisances; but they didn’t hurt bystanders or seriously hurt people. These ‘supervillains’ (though privately he wasn’t sure half the people he worked for qualified for ‘super’) weren’t quite so picky. And if he ever voiced discontent, it would usually end up with him legging it after a lot of “YOU DARE?!†speeches And worse – he’d never get to actually fight the heroes. Granted, that wasn’t a really nice thing to think, but he had superpowers now! He wanted to fight something that would really stretch himself! Anyway - to put it bluntly, working for real villains sucked. Still, it was a means to an end; even if it was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Ultimately, he got the money and the rep to assemble his own crew; a gimmicky band of thugs called the Iron Hand Gang. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure why he went with that, but it seemed cool. He was a heavy metal fan (hence the mohawk), and cool metal gauntlets really let his mooks stand out. Plus, now he was getting heroes of his own to fight – and that was just awesomeness on toast. In short, he thought he was on his way. At least until the Southside Incident. It was the first fight against the rookie Crimson Tiger that it started to hit him that maybe something was just...off. Moreso when he started seeing, really seeing, from the authority figure; the villain level, just what was happening in Freedom City. Before, he’d just been the chief thug – now he was actually seeing the plans and villainy going on, rather than being the last to find out. He’d been there on the ground when the Metaceptors came in, and there on the ground when the Gorgon showed up, and there on the ground when...well, a whole lot of things happening. And he was just a small-time brawler, whose main goals were keeping from being kidnapped, and fighting heroes because they were a damn good scrap. He started wondering whether, well...he really had it in him to be a villain. If he even wanted to be one. If, in looking for good fights and making himself real comfortable and authoritative, he was distracting people better than him from fighting people worse than him. He started feeling... Guilty. Which is a hell of a thing, he’ll tell you. It started real small, at least – just looking at other villains and trying to avoid what they were doing. Then it grew...bigger. Starting to look at heroes, and maybe avoiding causing trouble where they were working. They had more important people to fight, after all. Then looking at both, and maybe now and again sending a bit of info to a hero who wanted to take down someone really bad. He had a lot of contacts in the underworld, after all; folks owing him favors, or just liked him better than jerkass bad guys who preferred intimidation over chatting over beer. Ultimately, it lead to him just starting to not do anything – which his gang really didn’t like, but hey; at least they weren’t getting beat up by good guys. It came to a crescendo, finally, when he was witness to the chaos of the Hot Zone incident. Where powers ran rampant, and rather than take advantage, he started helping to contain it; keeping his people who were running wild under control, and keeping his few neighbourhoods in the Fens and Southside clean. He couldn’t attack or loot or whatever when this much of the city was at risk; not after everything he’d already considered. The same month, he told his gang they were done. He explained his thinking. Told them where he’d came from. Why he was what he was, and why things had changed. Some of them understood. Others just left. But they all agreed – after the Metaceptors, the Gorgon, and the Hot Zone, they just couldn’t keep going. And hell, he’d helped them all out at one time or another, right? Backed them up, unlike a lot of other villains – and he was sure as heck a lot nicer. They told him if he wanted to change, they’d go with him. He didn’t cry. But he may have hiccupped; just a bit. In the end - they robbed a bank. And got caught. (Insert link here.) What’s happened since then has been fairly well-documented; at least by those interested. Breaker, AKA Markus Flynt, was a model prisoner at Blackstone. Stayed in his cell, exercised, the works. Spent a good two years before applying for parole – and got given a chance at Project Freedom. The recommendation from a couple of very particular heroes went some distance to that. At the time, he wasn’t sure about if he’d take it, but now... Still, the nullifier cuffs kind of suck. Personality & Motivation: In personality, Markus/Breaker is just like his frame – big. He eats big, talks big, laughs big, lives big – and honestly, given his past, can you blame him? Villain or hero, he likes throwing himself into the action whenever he can; whether it’s being the life of a party, telling ribald dockside jokes and boastful stories, or diving headfirst to headbutt a villain’s giant robot (though doing that tends to squash his carefully coiffed hair) before ripping off a metal arm and beating it into scrap metal with it. Oddly enough, despite his past, Markus also tends to be a fairly...well, good isn’t entirely accurate, but more a nice guy – even when he ran with the Iron Hands or the dockside legbreakers he had a tendency to back up his friends, avoid hurting anyone who didn’t have it coming, or cause a bigger ruckus than the cops could handle (nobody liked it when they had to break out SWAT teams or fire hoses, after all). Admittedly, he’s had his rough patches, but a few good whacks to the head and running into better people have pulled him back into what he used to be like; before All The Badness happened. Time will tell if it’ll stick, or if he’ll fall back into old habits. If asked, he’ll say he’s hoping for the former. Power Descriptions: Breaker’s powers are all genetic; supercharged bone and muscle that lets him hit like a sledgehammer with a rocket engine strapped to the end. As of yet, he hasn’t manifested any really visible mutations or side effects from the Program, but it’s only been a few years... Powers & Tactics: Befitting his name, Breaker's powers and combat style are straightforward and uncomplicated. Step one; find the biggest, meanest, toughest, ugliest wanker currently occupying prime Freedom City real estate (read, the pavement under it's feet) during a kerfuffle, and ask it if it wants to go grab a beer and talk this whole thing out. If it does, right on - go grab a drink, talk shop, and persuade the big lug it'd be better to serve some time, get out on good behavior, and change it's ways. In the quite likely event this does not happen, however... Even with nullifier cuffs on, Breaker's raw brute strength is considerable - mighty punches that can crack concrete or dent cars are rendered with due diligence onto the obvious foe, with a surprising swiftness and deftness bespeaking Markus's considerable years of street fighting and back alley brawling. This usually continues until it gives up or stops moving, whichever comes first; whereupon he promptly uncorks that gale force bellow onto whatever minions said big jerkface might have nearby. Usually seeing their boss beat down street-style does wonders for persuading mooks to turn themselves in; worked well enough with his old crew. Epic lectures also help a lot - he enjoys giving those. Complications: 99 Problems - There's an old saying, the road to heck is paved with good intentions (it should be a different word, but the guy is trying to clean up his act). Fact is, while Breaker is trying to go straight...there are a lot of issues a guy can run into, especially when you used to be a career thug. Not to say he doesn't mean well - he does! It's just that sometimes the wrong thing seems like the right thing, or it gets kinda easy to fall back into an old habit when it comes to intimidation over diplomacy, or maybe he mighta skipped over a chapter or two of the Project Freedom Rulebook, or he accidentally finds something he really shouldn't...being a superhero is hard. Secrets From The Underground - Beware of people with syringes, for they are inevitably up to no good. Breaker knows this very well, having become intimately acquainted with a no-name group who enjoyed poking him with strange substances and mysterious rays and such odd sciencey procedures that he knows very little about. That isn't to say he doesn't enjoy the result of said processes, but there's a distinct problem constantly lingering in the back of his head - who were those guys? Why did they want him? The fact remains that whoever they were, they're still out there; and given how successful they were...they likely want their property back - and are willing to go to a lot of lengths to get it. This normally doesn't bother him, but sometimes...it does scare the green out of his hair. Smart guy could capitalize on that distraction. Thunderstruck - Breaker isn't sure if it's the AEGIS quartermaster or some kind of biofeedback problem (whatever those words mean) with his powers, but ever since he turned himself in and joined Project Freedom, he has always had a problem with those ruddy power nullifier cuffs they keep putting on him whenever he goes out in public. Not to say he's complained, mind - price of doing business - but sometimes when he's pushing himself on the job, things can go...awry. Like the time he was having to lift up a whole chinese noodle stand, and the cuffs magnetized - leaving him walking around with a noodle shop on his right arm all day. Or the time a fearsome foe struck at his arm, tapping the cuff, and he was left wondering why he suddenly felt several thousand pounds heavier and weak as a kitten. And then there's the emergency anti-escape shock systems... We Are The Road Crew - Fact is, Breaker doesn't have a lot of friends. Neither does Markus Flynt. Oh sure, they got a lot of associates - maybe even close acquaintances. But he's never really had a true 'friend' - or people he could trust outside of a working environment. The fact that his crew, the Knights In Shiny Leather (formerly the Iron Hand Gang), chose to stick with him 'cos he did right by them? That really hit home, y'know? Made his heart all mushy. And then these guys, these awesome guys in the Project Freedom program - they gave him a second chance, not just left him to rot in Blackstone like he figured would happen. Fact is, any of these folks, if they were in trouble, he'd go in mohawk-first and take the hits on the chin, even if it was a dumb move. Imagine what he'd do for another hero who'd give him a fair shake. Youth Gone Wild - Let's face it - for an ex-con, and worse, an ex-superpowered-con, Freedom City ain't the best place in the world to be. The capital of heroism, the center of superpowered justice and light in the world, the bulwark against a thousand thousand foes who might seek to subvert the world to their nefarious ends, the greatest nexus of good in the omniverse. It's a place that might think a guy who originally was sort of maybe against all that isn't quite welcome - and might treat him accordingly. Granted, he doesn't mind overmuch - again, price of doing business - but sometimes it can get a bit wearying. Maybe even get in the way a bit. He wants to go straight, after all. But he can't control how people see him. Abilities: 10 + 4 + 10 + 4 + 4 + 8 = 40PP Strength 30/20 (+10/+5) Dexterity 14 (+2) Constitution 30/20 (+10/+5) Intelligence 14 (+2) Wisdom 14 (+2) Charisma 18 (+4) Combat: 12 + 12 = 24PP Initiative: +2 Attack: +6, +10 melee Grapple: +15/+24 Defense: +10 (+6 Base, +4 Dodge Focus), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -5, -10 against physical attacks, -2 w/o powers Saving Throws: 2 + 3 + 4 = 9PP Toughness: +5/+10 (+5/+10 Con), Impervious 10 vs physical Fortitude: +7/+12 (+5/+10 Con, +2) Reflex: +5 (+2 Dex, +3) Will: +6 (+2 Wis, +4) Skills: 44R = 11PP Diplomacy 6 (+10) Intimidate 11 (+15, Skill Mastery) Knowledge (Civics) 3 (+5) Knowledge (Streetwise) 8 (+10, Skill Mastery) Notice 8 (+10, Skill Mastery) Sense Motive 8 (+10, Skill Mastery) Feats: 20PP All-out Attack Attack Focus (melee) 4 Connected Contacts Dodge Focus 4 Improved Critical (unarmed) 1 Improved Grapple Luck 2 Power Attack Skill Mastery (Intimidate, Knowledge [streetwise], Notice, Sense Motive) Startle Takedown Attack Well-Informed Powers: 10 + 10 + 5 + 3 + 10 + 8 = 36PP Enhanced Strength 10 [10PP] Enhanced Constitution 10 [10PP] Impervious Toughness 10 (Flaws: Limited to physical damage [-1]) [5PP] Leaping 2 (x5 distance [100'/50'/25'], Power Feats: 1 Alternate Power) [3PP] Alternate Power: Speed 2 (25 MPH) [2PP] Regeneration 10 (bruised 1/round, injured 3/round, staggered 2/5 minutes, disabled 4/5 minutes) [10PP] Super-Strength 4 (Heavy load: 12 tons) [8PP] DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 25 Toughness (Staged) Abilities (40) + Combat (24) + Saving Throws (9) + Skills (11) + Feats (20) + Powers (46) - Drawbacks (0) = 150/151 Power Points

Fortitude save! (1d20+5=18) owie!

"Get ready." was Crow's only response - still remarkably calm despite hitting the ground in a tuck and roll after Blod cut him loose. No time to worry about those tentacles; from what Raven had said they were already on the clock, and time was ticking down. And, despite himself...he wanted to show that Warden precisely why you didn't try and cage these birds. Personally. Oh, Archer would be irked at him... Probably not. He'd likely approve! I know I do - vengeance! Righteous fury! Now you turn your power to something worthwhile! Your approval fills me with shame. Oh, you know you love it. From within his coat, he produced a small folded paper and a spray-paint can; quickly unfolding it and slapping it to the wall. A quick shake of the can, the young hero working fast, and a quartet of fast sprays along predetermined lines. It was an odd shape, squiggly lines and a twisting whorl that carried a sense of energy erupting, rather than containing - with a magic circle surrounding it, but with spokes pointing inwards. Rune magic. Go figure. He made...a strange shape with his hands. Impossible to follow, a twisty gesture with fingers, and SLAMMED his fist into the rune - sparks flying where his backplate impacted the paint. It started to glow. And hum. Very loudly. Uh oh. He stepped just a hair sideways of the rune, and breathed out. "...fire in the hole."

Ah, in which case, 5 ft. radius and 20 ft. height, pointing sideways into the basement. And yes, Crow is taking Fatigue, and getting rid of it with a prompt HP use. I should be down to 1 left now; and if not, then what the heck I can go without for a while. Hey, hey Warden, hey. KNOCK KNOCK JERKFACE WHO ORDERED A BEATING

He jumped forward a hair from that quick kick, feeling the toe whistle an inch past his hip. Dukes were put up, back in a defensive position. Good move - he'd jumped back out of reflex, and that'd killed his momentum like...like a momentum...killing...thing. Morgan spun, backed up a few steps; assuming a peekaboo-guard position with his fists. A solid punch thrown here and there as he quick-stepped around her; one-two combinations - he seemed to be getting into a rhythm. One low, one high, one low, one high; easy enough to guard, but he had a heavy swing either way; it rattled if they connected. From what she could tell, it looked like he was trying to pull her into a slugging match, rather than a technical fight. Hm.

Hey. Hey Warden. Hey. I'm in ur base, beatin' up ur doods (if he has any). Crow stunts off his gloves that magic shaped charge I was talking about; taking out a piece of paper and a spray-paint can and stenciling an experimental rune onto the wall. Let's see if it works! Corrosion 7 (Extras: Area [Cylinder; 15 ft. radius, 10 ft. height], Penetrating; Flaws: Distracting) (30 PP) (Shaped Charge Rune) And in the meantime, hope Blod can keep his butt from getting grappled again. Or hey, maybe it'll also hit that metal tentacle in the blast radius?

Crow >In The Shadow Of Sin (Gold) >The Tiger And The Crow >Crow's HellQ is finally done too!

These cables are starting to seriously irritate me. Can't match the Grapple check (again), so let's see that Fortitude save...Fortitude save! (1d20+5=24) Well, that's something at least. Right, new plan...

Entrapment. Light. And pain. Crow was used to inflicting this on ne'er-do-wells, and had to admit it was fairly refreshing to have it applied to himself - even if it meant his cover was completely blown and his plans were once again shot to nine shades of hell. Granted, a great deal of training came from adapting to circumstances, but the speed with which his plans kept going sideways was getting to be a common theme whenever he was tasked with cooking up an idea. Gods, boy, it's like a comedy routine - right before Bres unleashed the hounds. How we laughed so very much after that. Just...shut up. Ruminating later. Action now. Blod hit the scene fast, and her swipes at them were damn appreciated - but they were already lacking time. Focus, focus - hone in on that rune, don't let the shocks disturb... Blod saw the Crow-shaped hole in the air the cables were wrapped around just collapse, like they'd suddenly squashed him into a tiny ball; and for a moment it seemed very likely their crew had just been shortened by one member. That is, until the whirring of even more wires, that promptly took advantage of that unique position the cables found themselves in - tied, roped, and electricity flooding into them hard enough to nearly short-out the damn system. Crow shimmered into being beside her, and murmured rather calmly. "...nice trap."

Excellent. From that, let's get a bit of vengeance. YOU AIN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN RIDE THE LIGHTNING, WANKERS. *koff* THROW ALL THE THINGS (1d20+14=34) - now that is awesomeness on toast.. Snare + Blast on this one - DC 21 Reflex to avoid, then DC 26 TOU save against the follow-up electroshock Blast going right up those wires.

Crow >In The Shadow Of Sin (2)

Introduction Who are you? Sum yourself up in one sentence. Hmm…lege-ah…hero in training. Do you have any nicknames, street names, titles, or nom de plume? Just Crow. Well…maybe a few others in languages I can’t pronounce. Working on that. What is your full birth name? Morgan Crowe. Where do you live? Currently? The Parkhurst Hotel. No, you aren’t getting an address. Good luck finding it even if you had one, hehehe. How old are you? What year were you born (if applicable)? Twenty, I was born in 1994. Physical Traits What is your gender? If not applicable, please explain. Male. Not likely to change anytime soon, that. How would you describe your heritage? Iri-…Sidh-…Tua-… American. With some extras. How tall are you? Five foot ten. And yeah, I measure every day. What is your body type? Muscular, I guess. I do a lot of heavy training and exercise. Like, a lot. Kinda have to, after all. Do you have any particular weaknesses, such as allergies or physical disabilities? I’ve got a fierce temper, but I’m working on that. Holdover from…actually, both my dad and mom have that, come to think of it. And almonds make me sneeze. How do you carry yourself? Are you graceful, or heavy on your feet? Can you be stealthy, do you walk with confidence? Ah man…I dunno if I’d describe myself as graceful, but I’m not heavy; learning to box means dancing feet, all the time. Moving all over the place, walking light and stepping soft. And yeah, if I’m in the zone and I’ve got the Rune of Fog up, you won’t know I’m there until I either tap you on the shoulder or punch you in the face. Or both. Describe your skin, eye, and hair color. Pale, gold, and black. And no, they aren’t contacts. Though with the looks I get when I’m out and about, I’m really thinking I should start wearing those… How do you wear your hair, if applicable? Do you have facial hair? Well, it’s fairly long, so it kinda depends on the circumstances. Grows fast, too, so cutting it…yeah, doesn’t work. Anyway; training and on patrol, I usually tie it in a ponytail. Everywhere else, usually just let it hang loose. Do you consider yourself attractive? Do others? Aaaah…knee-jerk is no, I’ve taken more than a couple punches to my face; broke my nose once. But…well, Vickie seems to think I look good, so I’ll go with what she says. Do you have any scars, tattoos, piercings, or birthmarks? No. Though…a tattoo of a crow on the bicep would be pretty awesome…actually, on second thought, never mind. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Do you resemble anyone famous? Not as far as I know. Do you have a dominant hand? I’m a righty – jab a few times with the left, then big-time haymaker with the right cannon; boom! What kind of clothing do you wear? Whatever’s cheap? Dad trusts me to buy my own clothes, so I tend to go with what’s inexpensive and in bargain bins. And durable. Durable clothes are good. Oh, and trackpants and trackshirts for training, I have a lot of those. Do you wear makeup? No. No. Definitley not. What is your vocal range? Is your voice distinctive in some way? Umm…not really, I guess. I mean, I’m pretty good at switching between a baritone and bass, though I usually only go deep when I’m in costume. Though…I did inherit this one thing from my mother. If I’m really, really angry? I have this, this voice that just comes out, see? My friends say it’s like…footsteps walking across a grave. But it’s weird too – like someone’s hijacked my mouth. Yeah. Scares me too. Do you have any distinctive habits, nervous tics, or mannerisms? Where did they come from, and what causes them? Do other people notice and remark on these habits? Do they annoy you or other people? Distinctive habits? Ah…none, not really. I can slip into old Gaelic when I’m stressed, I guess. And if the guys’ve noticed, they haven’t said. Yeah, it’s a bit annoying. History Where do you come from? Boston! Have you made any major moves, or do you live in your hometown? Yep, from Beantown to Freedom City. Herotown. Do you feel loyal to your country of citizenship? Do you consider yourself patriotic? How do you feel about the government of your country? Aaah…ask me again in a few years. Tentative answers, though – yes, yes, and ambivalent. How do you feel about the place you come from? Boston was my home; I was born there, I was raised there, my favourite restaraunts are there, the alley where I was first a real ‘hero’ is there…I miss it, really. But Freedom City’s feeling more and more like a home, y’know? Where is your home town? What was/is it like? Massachussets, it was. And Boston’s a big city, easy to get lost in. Neighbourhood I lived in was comfy, though; lot of folks my dad knew from his hero days lived around there too. Great sandwiches from a stand run by a pair of trolls, occasionally visiting some old colleagues of his and listening to ‘em shoot the breeze, hitting the gym and earning cash lifting-carrying on the waterfront; that’s what it was like. Growing up, were most of the people you knew similar to you, or were you somehow a minority? How did that affect you? Uh…I guess it was a bit odd. I mean, my dad was a famous hero back in the day, and since he got his powers by accident he wasn’t exactly unknown. Which means once people found out my last name…yeah, it was awkward. Got a bit of a swelled head for a while, until I found out...next question. Is there something you've always been really good at or really bad at? How has that affected your life? Hmm…I’ve always been a good boxer, since I started learning it. Learned quick, hit the rookie under-eighteen circuits, got a couple of trophies, started training like mad after that villain kicked the tar out of me – I’d say it’s affected my life. Oh, and I’ve always been a pretty good artist. Painting and sculpting – you see Avalon once, once…it’s hard not to want to put that on paper or canvas. Were there any traumatic experiences in your early years (death of a family member, abandonment, orphaned at an early age)? Just one. When I hit sixteen. I said I’d had a swelled head, being the son of a famous hero, honorary Freedom Leaguer, the whole nine yards. I knew, I just –knew- that I was going to be a big hero too. Then my mother spits in my face and says that I’ve got ‘none of the blood’, I’m ‘useless, worse than useless’, and my dad and I had to run. Literally, run. Flee from the wrath of an angry goddess. First time I ever saw my own mother, too. Yeah… went through a…rough patch, after that. Briefly describe a defining moment in your childhood and how it influenced your life. Besides the one I just wrote about? Few months after old Morry had chased us away, I was at this…demonstration at my high school. First year, clubs were putting on a show. One of the Irish-American teachers was demonstrating the styles I was starting to learn, if memory serves, when this big bulky guy wearing armor that looked like it was solid rock came barrelling in the front doors, yelling for Red Hand and his son. As in Red Hand’s son. As in me. One of dad’s old foes. Said he’d tear up the school if he or I didn’t surrender and admit defeat. Me being young…er, younger, and stupid, I promptly stood up, called him something very rude, and tried to punch him. Then I got the tar beat out of me. Repeatedly. Painfully. I say without question I received the worst beating I have ever, -ever- felt from that guy. Oh, I tried to fight back, but nothin’ worked. No punches, no kicks, I was fighting straight up and I got just destroyed. Didn’t stop when I was down, either. Then he started boasting, laughing, calling for my dad. And…well, I remembered the rules dad had drilled into my head before we’d gone to see mom, rules he’d told me years ago. Red Hand’s Rules. Enter into battle with joy, protect those who can’t protect themselves, and never be afraid to fight dirty…so I started laughing. Pretty weak laughter (a couple of my ribs were broken), but laughter. He started wondering how the heck I was still standing, his moves got sloppier and more reckless as he tried to shut me up…then I grabbed a fire extinguisher and bashed it across his head when he –finally- left an opening. Soaked him with foam. Kept wailing on him with it until he went down. Long story short, it was that villain beating me down and remembering what my dad had taught me that got me out of the funk I’d been in; remembering the other heroes he’d told me about, Midnight, Arrowhawk, and the Raven. That’s how I started on the road to Crow-dom, really. What stupid things did you do when you were younger? See above answer. Along with the usual teenage idiocy. And accidentally getting into a fight with one of Boston’s more famous heroes – I still have the marks where he bit me! Where did you go to school? How much school did you have, and did you enjoy it? Attended Claremont Academy, graduated. Debating college, but...I dunno. And yeah, I enjoyed it immensely. Made a lot of good friends, and the classes were damn useful – almost fun. Almost. Still classes. Stupid homework…I had other projects to work on! Do you have any mementos of your childhood? What are they, and why did you keep them? If you have none, why not? Still in my childhood, technically. But…I do have one thing. Something that’s…very precious to me. Ring on my right hand – silver, with Celtic designs wrought into the metal. It was a gift, from Victoria Knight. My…err…girlfriend. And she gave it to me the same night that…ah…we…uh…she gave something…else…to…m-OKAYNEXTQUESTION! When did you decide to become a hero? Why? Did anyone influence you one way or another in the decision? See above questions. And I did it because that’s what my dad did, that’s what Raven did, that’s what Midnight did, that’s what Arrowhawk did, and because I was taught to protect people who can’t protect themselves. Is the reason you give people for becoming a hero different than your real reason? If so, why? Well, no. Though nobody’s really asked me, so I don’t know. Do you have any deep, dark secrets in the past that may come back to haunt you? Besides that my mother is a walking incarnation of death and battle? No. Do you represent yourself as being different from who you really are? Why? I…don’t know. Crow is…me. I guess. Except a lot more frightening. It’s me being…more ruthless…but then I’m already like that in training…I really don’t know. I gotta be scary, y’know? That’s how Crow has to be – an...an...embodiment, yeah, that’s the word – an embodiment of stark terror to the criminals of Freedom City. If you do have these secrets, what do you fear would happen if the truth became known? How far would you go to protect those secrets? Well…I’ve already told my friends who my mother is, and the only fear I would’ve had before that would be that they’d have run from me. And they didn’t. They stuck by me. So…I guess it doesn’t really matter. Still awkward, though; so I suppose I’d prefer to keep my lip buttoned about it. No more than that. Though…I guess on another level I would take some measures to avoid keeping the secret of my parentage hidden, though that’s mostly petty. I really don’t want public perception of my mother to increase any more. Do you have any sort of criminal record? If so, is it public knowledge? No. If I did back home, my dad would kill me. Or worse, ground me. Here, my friends’d kill me, I’d be expelled, and then my dad would kill me. Again. No, seriously, he’d find some funky ancient spell and…yeah, next question please! Family What are your biological parents' names? Patrick Crowe and Mór-ríoghain. Don’t say her name three times. Seriously. Were you raised by them? If not, please explain and describe who raised you. My dad, yeah. My mother…she was off doing goddessy stuff, I guess. Whatever near-forgotten deities of death do when they aren’t being utter jerks. Hope she didn’t hear that. What was their standing in the community? What did/do they do for a living? Dad was a hometown hero made good, but retired; lotta people in the know would stop by to ask for autographs or something, we’d get the occasional villain – maybe the odd dude looking to get some old artefact identified. He’s still a university professor, though – maybe if I wasn’t living in Freedom City now, I’d have had him teaching me one day. Weird. And mom’s a goddess of death, fertility, and war. So that’s kinda a full-time gig. Where are your parents now? Dad’s still back home in Boston, we send a lotta letters and postcards between us; keep up to date with what each other’s doing. He’s a bit cheesed-off at the trouble I keep falling in, but he’s pretty resigned to it – not like he didn’t do worse back in the day. Don’t talk to mom much. Or…really, ever. She’s in Avalon or Mag Mell or wherever. Doing what she does. Did your family stay in one area or move around a lot? Stay in one area – Dad used to move around a lot between Freedom City and Boston, but after retiring he hasn’t left Beantown for more than a day or so. Not even for vacations. How did you get along with their parents? How do you get along with them now (if applicable). I get along well with my dad. He’s my dad, y’know? Taught me right from wrong, how to poke at a car engine, how to drive, how to hit a Fomorian so they don’t get back up in a hurry, where the best pizza places are…yeah, I get along well with him. Don’t ask about my mother. How do your parents view you now, or how would they? Dad’s scared to death I’m going to end up getting grabbed by one of old nemeses, or end up going down in a blaze of glory against some eldritch foe, but he’s resigned to the fact that I’m a hero now. He knows I wouldn’t have it any other way. Though he has said he’s saving up embarrassing stories to tell his grandkids. Oy. Mom…I dunno. From what I’ve heard, she still dislikes me. Well, not me so much as I haven’t got the warp-spasm like Big C or dad did. And she chased me and dad away way back when with crows and carrion birds pecking at our heads. But I’ve also heard she’s got a bit of pride now. After what she said in Tian...I dunno. I don’t know if I want to know either. Rrgh. Do you have any siblings? If so how many and what are their names? Describe your relationship with them. I dunno. Maybe. The Morrigan’s a goddess of fertility too, so it wouldn’t surprise me. Haven’t met any yet, though. What was your birth order in the family? Again, heck if I know. Where are your siblings now (if applicable)? Do they have families of their own? What do they do? H.I.I.K. Do you stay in touch with them or have you become estranged? *shrug* Do you love or hate one member of the family in particular? Love my dad, can’t stand my mother, next question. Is any member of the family special to you in any way (perhaps, as a confidant, mentor, or arch-rival)? Next question. Are there any black (or white) sheep in the family (including you)? If so, please explain. I’d be the black sheep if I wasn’t picking up where my dad left off, I suppose. But right now, I don’t reckon so. Do you have a notorious or celebrated ancestor? If so, please explain, including how it has affected your life. YES. The Hound of Ulster himself, Cu Chulainn – his bloodline’s my birthright. My dad, Red Hand, inherited the warp-spasm, the berserker fury that gave him superpowers and let him pick up the spear and shield of that legendary hero. It made the Morrigan seek him out just after his retirement. It brought me into the world, thinking I’d inherit the power and… Yeah. I didn’t get it. And that’s been affecting my life ever since. Living up to Big C’s example, living up to dad’s example, etc. Next question. Do you have a partner and children currently? If so, please describe them. Yes, I’m dating Victoria Knight. Wisp. She’s…special. I’m not that…I’m…it’s hard to describe. No, we don’t have kids. I mean, I guess it’s something that could happen but neither of us are kind of chasing it but I don’t want to say no and no matter what I think we’d bo-*area scrawled out*...yeah, there’s, ah, no hurry there. If you do not have a partner or children, do you want them someday? How firm are you in your opinion on this, and what might change your mind? I’d like some someday. My dad’d love grandkids, and I know I’d love to teach them like he taught me, right from wrong, all the cool places in Freedom City to eat or hang out, tell them stories about their ancestors and that kinda thing. But they’d probably also pick up a few of my enemies, so… It’s a hard question. What type of person would be your ideal mate? Who I’m currently dating. Next question. Relationships Do you have any close friends? If so, please describe them, and how you came to be close to them. Yes. Yes, so very much yes! I mean, granted – as a scary as heck hero I shouldn’t be so vehement about it, but what the hell – my friends are awesome. There’s my ex-roomie, Brian Harris; alias Glowstar. He’s a Hero with a capital H, I mean that; brash, straight-up paragon of justice type when he puts on the cape. Saved my butt more times than I can count, too. Yeah, he’s Good People. Real Good People – I wish there were more Brian Harrises in the world. Etain Maher’s a friend too – ran into her my first day at Claremont. Though...okay, I’ll admit straight-up that girl scares me. Good people, no lie – I’d trust her with my back any day of the week. Kind, polite, but...what was that thing from literature class...silk hiding steel. Yeah. That’s Etain to a T. Mathair na trocaire, a lot of my own scary I riff off her own demeanor. It’s...well...fey. Yeah, she scares me. And I respect her for it. And then there’s John Smith – I don’t know if he’d call me a friend, he’s pretty...well...quiet. Distant, too – granted, he’s got good reasons. But aye, I’d call him a friend. Met him his first day at Claremont, and we...hit it off, I guess? It just sorta happened – we shared a similar love for insane training regimens and sparring. Never could figure out who’s better in CQC - guy’s strong. Good. Quiet strong, and quiet good, but he’s the kinda guy who, if he’s got your back, you don’t even bother looking behind. Respect that – it’s rare. Victoria Knight...Vicky...yeah. What the heck can I say about her, huh? Most...just...she’s...yeah. Smart, quick wits, funny, strong, sexy as hell, generous, heroic...yeah. I’d need way more time than I got to cover her here. Don’t know a lot of other people, though – it’s...I’d call it more luck that we’re all so close than anything else. It just...happened. Never thought I’d make friends like these. And my life’s a helluva lot richer for it. Do you have a best friend? If so, how did they become your best friend? How close are you to your best friend? I don’t have a best friend. No. I got four. If you were to go missing, who would worry about you? The Irregulars would tear the city apart to find me. I know, I’d do the same for them. My dad would prolly pick up the old spear and shield to help. Mom... I dunno about Mom. She’d prolly be too busy to care. Don’t care much about it, to be honest...no. No, I don’t. Have you lost any loves? If so, how did it happen, and what did you do? No. But I came close. Very close. I still have nightmares about how close. And I pray I’ll never experience that cold again. Do you have any bitter enemies? If so, please describe them and their history with you. Probably who knows how many streetside crooks. And... I dunno. Would it be arrogant to say Bres the Beautiful? The Fomorian prince – easy to look him up in any book of Irish myth. I took his magic rock, yeah – and I kicked his butt big-time in Tian...but I’m still this tiny wannabe hero. Yeah, he wants his rock back more than crushing me. My dad’s more a bitter enemy to him, I’d say. If I was to go with a real bitter enemy, I’d say The Lady and her servant Branagh – a sidhe noble and her Autumn Child. Stopped them from retrieving a formerly-enslaved servant once, and they’ve hated me ever since. That question above, if I lost any loves – they were the ones who nearly made that happen. I’ll never forgive them for it. Just as they’ll never forgive me. If we’re lucky, they’ll never show up again and I’ll never run into them again...ch’yeah, right. This is Freedom City. They’ll be back. But the others and I? We know their methods. And we’ll be waiting. If you have enemies, how do you think they might attempt to work against you in the future? Aim for my family, aim for my friends, or aim for my girlfriend. Problem is that any of those choices are terminally stupid for a multitude of reasons. Good luck. What is the worst thing someone has done to you? ...see multiple above answers, and take your pick. Where do your loyalties lie? In what order? My friends, Freedom City or Boston, and my family. And only reason my family is second is because my dad can take care of himself – and he’d kick my butt big-time if I put him before anything else on the list. Who or what do you trust the most? Why? Every last one of the former Irregulars, most of the folks at Parkhurst, and my dad. First two groups because they earned it. Last one because he’s my dad. I need a reason there? Who or what do you despise? Why? Long list, but I’ll shorten it – Fomorians, supervillains, criminals in general, The Lady and her cronies, people who abuse magic (picked that one up from everyone else at Parkhurst)...trick isn’t to show you despise them or act like it if you have to deal with them. Just get the job done. Mr. Archer taught me that. What qualities do you admire most in other people? Are these qualities you possess? Courage. Tenacity. Cunning, intelligence...self-reliance. Audacity – ye gods and little fishes, audacity. Even if I despise a criminal or a villain, I’ll admire the audacity of a scheme – how can’t you? And yeah – I like to think I have each of those things. Though maybe it’s less courage and tenacity on my end and more stubbornness or arrogance. I’m trying to work that out. What qualities do you hate most in other people? Do you have any of those qualities? Greed, mostly. Arrogance – I see enough of that in me. And...cruelty. I hate cruel people. I hate them because it scares me. It’s a fine line to walk, playing the scary-as-heck cowl on the streets; trying not to pass the line and turning it into a cat-and-mouse game for...for fun. Terror is a weapon – it’s not a toy...and...I want to think I don’t fail. God, I hope I don’t fail. Do you have a secret identity? If so, who knows it? Do you hide it from people who are close to you? Why? Yes, I do. My family, and my friends. I’m lucky in that regard, I’ve never gotten close to anyone I’ve had to hide my identity from. If I did, I would...mostly – my friends and family I know can take care of themselves, and anyone I told about Crow would have to be equally as capable. Otherwise, I’m not letting them get caught up in what I do. It’s what a hero’s supposed to do, right? Do you work well on teams and in groups? Are you a leader or a follower? Worked with the Irregulars, and we were a well-oiled machine fo’ sho’, hah. Swear to the Tuatha – on our best day, you could put us in front of SHADOW’s best and we’d give points and take the over. Like to think I was a leader, at least for a while. I mean, I defer to Myrmidon a lot of the time when it comes to complex plans, but either of us usually take charge when there’s a battle plan to be made or tactics to rattle off before a fight. I don’t really do that anymore for...reasons. Just, next question. Are you on a super team? If so, how do you get along with your comrades? Do you trust them, or do you have secrets from them? I used to be; we called ourselves the Irregulars – my best friends, as said above. We argue sometimes, I guess – make mistakes. But we trust each other implicitly...or I like to think so; and I don’t think we have any more secrets between us. ...that’s a hard thing, honestly. The Morgan part of me says if any of us have secrets, it’s probably for a good reason – and we should trust each other with them. But the Crow part of me...it wants to be prepared for them...this is weird. Next que-next question, please. Are you a member of any church, fraternal organization, club, committee, political party, or other group? How much time do you spend on that? Was a student at Claremont Academy, and now, security consultant. Magic security consultant. It is ridiculously awesome. Spend most of my time trying to build up my business when I’m not patrolling or doing other stuff – not that that’s a bad thing or anything like that, it’s seriously fun! Really! Personality & Beliefs Who are your heroes? I wanna say Freedom League, but more specifically...my dad, Raven, Arrowhawk...my dad’s my dad, but those two and a whole pack of others didn’t let a lack of superpowers stop them from picking up what they did best and protecting the world with it. Respect that, gotta respect that. Did you ever become disillusioned with former heroes or idols? If so, why and what were the circumstances? Not yet. At least, I haven’t heard of anything that’d disillusion me yet. Hope it never happens. Do you like being a hero? If so, what is the most rewarding part? If not, what makes you keep doing it? Yeah, I like being a hero. S’what I do best. As for the other bits...I guess if you’d asked me that a while ago, I’d say it was sticking it to my mother, and knowing I was proving her wrong. Now...it’s still sorta that, but it’s more...making a difference and helping people sounds so damn cliché, but after helping out those two spirits of earth and fire and seeing them with their children...and what Mr. Archer keeps saying... Making a difference. And helping people. Is there anything that would make you give up hero work, or even switch sides? ...no. Never. Ever. Maybe if...no, not even then. He doesn’t think for a split second of a stone, locked away in a box and hidden between realms. What are your short term goals (what would you like to be doing within a year)? Already graduated in one piece, so...I guess get my feet under myself financially, get my name out there as a figure of terror in the underworld, manage to get some fishing time in...you know, the usual stuff. What are your long term goals (what would you like to be doing twenty years from now)? Be a full-fledged cowl – one that truly strikes terror into the hearts of criminals all over Freedom City. Become a master of my craft – artifice and rune magic. Still fight evil with my friends – all of my friends. Don’t care about the odds – I won’t let them get hurt. What is your greatest fear? Why? What do you do when something triggers this fear? ...Victoria being taken again. A friend being taken. A friend dying. My dad dying. Reason’s self explanatory. As for what I’d do... I can’t describe it. I don’t want to. I don’t want to. It scares me. Is there anything you would give you life for? Yes. Many things. None of them I hope’ll come to pass. The others’d kill me if I did. Die, that is. Yeah, I know that sounds impossible. They’d find a way. How do you feel about money and material wealth? Do you desire it or disdain it? Are you miserly with what you have, or do you like to share? Is it a mark of success, or a means to an end? It’s...money. I mean, I’m early twenties – I love money, spending it on myself or my friends, buying nice things and going to cool places. Or upgrading my gear – I mean, how much does Raven have to have in the kitty to afford all those cool toys she has? Seriously? Imma say I’m not miserly, at least, I hope I’m not. And I’d say yeah, it’s probably a mark of success. Not a big one, y’know – but a decent one. Money isn’t everything, right? How do you generally treat others? Eeeh...as Morgan Crowe? Friendly as heck, welcoming – big thing my dad taught me was hospitality. And it’s nice to be friendly. I mean, I should be cold and distant, but I just can’t be as myself, y’know? Now, as Crow...cold and distant. Yeah. Gotta be. It’s the persona. Gotta stick with the persona. Are you a trusting person? Has your trust ever been abused? ...Morgan, yes, Crow, no. And...sort of? It’s complicated – does mind control to leave a safe place so I have to go chasing after them to rescue count as abuse of trust? Are you introverted (shy and withdrawn) or extroverted (outgoing)? Do you have a lot of self-confidence? Morgan, extro, Crow, intro. Though with Crow it’s less shy and way more withdrawn. And yes, I’d say I have too much self-confidence...not sure if that’s a good thing. How do you act around attractive, available members of your preferred sex? Be polite, be friendly. Sometimes a bit awkward. Make that very awkward. Didn’t really get flirty per se until Vickie and I had been going out for a while. What are your most annoying habits? I can be smug. Very smug. Or way too terse. And I have a nasty habit of assuming I can take charge in any situation. Still, I have high hopes – got a lot of people around me who can deliver a slap to the back of the head when I get too arrogant. Do you feel contempt for any general category of people? Who are they, and why? I try not to. But not always – lawbreakers and magic abusers, for the most part. And Fomorians. See prior list. What is your favorite food? Do you prefer any particular type of food? Do you take the time to enjoy your food, or do you eat as fast as you can? Oooh...tough call. I love mac and cheese made by my dad, specially when he does it with these four different cheeses and spicy sausage chunks? Daaaaamn...oh, but there’s these troll brothers who run a sandwich shop near my house – they make a hoagie you could use as a life raft. Tastes good too. Choosing is hard. What is your favorite drink (alcoholic or otherwise)? Root beer. Love that stuff – especially A&W. Drink it by the case if I could – heck, I burn enough calories in training I could. Though my teeth’d be an absolute mess, so that’s a no-go. Dangit. What is your favorite treat (dessert)? Oreo sundaes. Big ol’ ones – I eat them so infrequently it makes them a treat when I do, hee. Are there any specific foodstuffs that you find disgusting or refuse to eat? ...this is going to sound rather stupid, but most forms of Irish cuisine. Yeah. What is your favorite color? Are there any colors you dislike? Black. It’s just a phase, I swear. What sort of music do you like? Is there any that you hate? Yeah, let’s get the stereotype out of the way – love the Dropkick Murphys. David Garrett’s bloody brilliant, and besides him...love good metal and rock. It’s a thing. If you have a favorite scent, what is it? Freshly baked bagel right in the morning. I miss sharing that with Brian. Do you have a favorite animal? ...have you seen my name? What is your most treasured possession? Why? The ring. Even more than the coat. Do you enjoy "roughing it", or do you prefer your creature comforts? Ooh, I love roughin’ it. Just got back from a camping trip with Bri that went horribly, horribly wrong – still unbelieveably fun before all heck broke loose. I even caught a fish! Several fishes! Is there a job or a task you would absolutely refuse to do? Ignoring the obvious ones like killing someone or robbing a bank...I used to do a lot of dock work, so menial labor holds no fright for me. I guess I’d never do anything that would make me lose the respect of my friends or myself. Do you consider yourself a spiritual person? If so, how do your beliefs affect your life? How important is it to you? I deal with a lot of spirits, but I don’t exactly have...faith, per se. When you’ve seen the true pettiness of deities and spirits first-hand, it’s...it’s complicated. Was your faith influenced or molded by anyone special? Influenced, yes. By many, many things that really don’t deserve the title of god. It’s a thing. If you belong to a religious organization, how often do you attend? Do you have a specific place of worship, or friends within the organization? How much do you agree with the beliefs of your organization? Don’t, so doesn’t apply. Could you kill? Have you killed? First one...I...yes. No. Yes. I should be able to. Shouldn’t I? My job is to do what the other heroes can’t do in the clinch, when there is literally no other option...but I don’t want to...no. Yes. No. I... ... ...second one, no. What circumstances led to you forming that conviction, or taking that action? ...pass. Are there circumstances under which you believe it is permissible to kill? What are they? Pass. How would you react to watching someone kill another person? Would your reaction be different if the killer was a friend or an enemy of yours? I’d take them down. Hard. If it was a friend...I don’t want to see that. If I can help it, I never will. I don’t want to think what I’d do. Or what the ones I’d care about would see if I did. How would you react if something important was stolen from you? Track them down, beat them down, put the fear of Crow in them, and hand them over to the authorities. How would you react to public humiliation? With return fire of a pranking variety. I have much experience with that – as certain friends know very well. Hee. How would you react if a good friend or relative were purposely or accidentally killed? Has it happened to you? Oh, this again...see prior answer. What do you consider to be the worst crime someone could commit and why? Murder. Reason is self-explanatory. If your life were to end in 24 hours, what five things would you do in those remaining hours? Go on one last patrol with the Irregulars. Leave a memory of everything I’ve learned and know. Eat my dad’s cooking. Leave each of my friends a gift. And spend the last hours with...yeah. Career & Training Do you have any special training in your hero skills? If so, where and how did you get it? If you call nine to five training in every possible aspect of physical readiness I can come up with special, then sure. Magic’s a tool, one I’m learning how to use, but I can’t rely on it as much as I do. I need to even the scale on that – and I’m working hard to achieve that. The magic...I got from my mother. The coat. Got me started on the path. Everything else? Me. Got the basics from dad, and a couple of gym teachers – but everything after that is hard work, hard work, and more hard work. And I’m damn proud of that. Who taught you the most about your heroing abilities? What was your relationship with that person? For my coat and gloves? Mostly men and women dead and gone, treatises and books they wrote on rune magic. I have immense respect for these masters of their craft – they represent what I’m aspiring to. Abilities like how to fight, that was me. But I’d say it was my dad, Patrick Crowe, who taught me why to fight. Granted, it took me a while to really understand it. Do you have any particularly unusual skills? How did you acquire them? Rune magic, channelled through my coat and my gloves. My mother sent it to me, at least I think she did, when I started real hero work. Everything else I know about rune magic I learned through research and experimentation. Lots of experimentation. It’s been paying off. Do you do something besides hero work for a living? Have you ever done anything else, or do you plan to? I...don’t know. I’m still working on that – with this being my graduation year, I kinda have to. I mean...professional rune mage doesn’t exactly go well on business cards. Still, Equinox did open a door...could I be a...a...magic consultant? Well...maybe not a magic consultant...but I am learning enough that I could go into security. And magic defences could float in with that? ...I’ll have to look into this. What is your preferred combat style? Martial arts, fisticuffs, throwing knives – anything and everything. Everything goes. Because when lives are in danger, you use every last trick you’ve got to save ‘em. Have you ever received any awards or honours? No. Rather not, I guess – I want my title recognized, but not myself...yeah, that’s a bit awkward. What skill areas would you like most to improve in? Is there anything you can't do that you wish desperately you could? Planning skills, definitely – I’ve taken charge three times; and every damn time someone’s got caught – or hurt. Hurt bad. I should be better – I have to be better. I can’t afford otherwise. They can’t afford otherwise. How do you act around people who are more skilled than you in areas you'd like to improve? Are you jealous, or do you try and learn? This one’s...hard. I like to think I keep my cool, but a lot of the time I do feel...jealous. I scrape and claw for everything I can do, work my fingers to the bone, and sometimes I’m outdone by guys with superpowers I can’t imagine. It...rankles. I’m training hard to make that go away, but it’s still hard sometimes. Either way, I do try and learn, though. Every lesson helps, even if it involves blood and broken bones. Lifestyle & Hobbies What is a normal day for you? How do you feel when something interrupts this routine? Wake up, morning exercises, morning practice and experimentation, lunch, go to work for the rest of the afternoon, gear-down exercises, a few hours of experimentation and research again, then evening patrol. My sleep schedule is kind of frakked. As to if someone interrupts it? Well...it used to piss me off, but now I’m kind of resigned to it, I guess. Occupational hazards, right? Do you have any hobbies, or interests outside hero work? What are they, and where did you pick them up? Not...many...but I guess a few. I mean, I draw a bit – you want to learn to do rune magic, you kind of have to pick up some artistic ability. I don’t paint very often, though. I’ve also got a fondness for old magic manuals and treatises – magical theory, y’know? I’m not like an expert or anything, I can point you to a lot of them; but I just like reading about the experiments and hard work so many people have put into the Art. Makes me feel like one day my own works might be looked back on the same way. Morgan Crowe, talked about in the same way as...as...Gwydion, or, or the Telchines. Maybe even Merlin. What do you do for fun? Fun? What is this thing you call fun? Heh, just kidding – most of the time I get fun from exercising and training, especially if I’m in the zone; but other than that...as said, I paint some, I read some. I get a real kick out of just experimenting for the sake of experimenting, especially if I don’t blow anything up! Do you have a costume? What does it look like? Oh man, my costume kicks ass. Seriously. Big black coat, all scary and intimidating – runes all over the place, glowy and burny and spooky when I kick in the juice. Heavy metal boots, awesome for kicking bad guys in the jaw – engraved runes into those too. And my gloves, aw man my gloves; I made those myself, black with backplates, engraved to all hell, these things can cycle enough power to put a damn Grue right on their ass. And don’t even get me started on my black Crow mask. Seriously – it is made of awesome. Really, I made it out of undiluted awesome. Magic’s cool that way. How do you normally dress when not in costume? Comfort, mostly – I like jeans and hoodies, hoods are awesome. Kind of used to wearing them thanks to the costume. And a pea coat – Boston kid, y’know? What do you wear to bed most nights? Depends if V-errrr bad answer, aheh. Let’s go with sleep pants and maybe a sweatshirt if it’s cold. Do you wear any special jewelry? What is it, and what does it look like? The ring Vickie gave me. Celtic knot, silver, engraved with my own runes...it is special to me. Do you have a special place where you keep your valuables? Hm? No, not really. Well, I’ve got a dimensional pocket in my ring I can stuff stuff into, but I don’t really use it that often. Mostly I just chuck important stuff into my room in Parkhurst – I’d like to see someone get in there without getting royally fried. What's your preferred means of local travel? How about long distance? Local travel? Teleporting – though parkour practice works fine too. And long-distance...gotta go with trains. I dunno why – trains are just awesome. Miscellaneous Have you ever made a will, or tried to make arrangements for your death? What provisions did you make? No, though...I’ve thought of doing it. I dunno, I just feel too damn young for it. But the occupation I’m in...maybe I should. I’m thinking about it, yeah. If your features were to be destroyed beyond recognition, is there any other way of identifying your body? ...man, this is suddenly depressing. I don’t know – I made the mask and gloves to be indestructible, so probably those. Maybe the coat? I dunno, never tried zapping it, so... What would you like to be remembered for after your death? ...fixing things. Making some of the city...I dunno, a bit cleaner. Writing some good pieces on rune magic – maybe help some newbie pick up where I left off. ...and maybe that I made some people’s lives a bit nicer. I hope. Do you believe you pose a threat to the public? Why or why not? Yes. For...reasons. One being a small black and purple marble. What do you perceive as your greatest strength? I don’t quit. I don’t back down. If a wall comes up, I’ll climb up over it or go damn well through it. I’ve never accepted what I am as stopping me from doing anything – and I don’t plan to stop now. What do you perceive as your greatest weakness? Heh. This one...obvious, but it’s annoying to say. Yeah, I’m arrogant. I’m too prideful – even with a good few kicks in the head. One day someone’s going to take advantage of that, and it’ll hurt like hell. Some already have. As a player, if you could, what advice would you give your character? Speak as if he/she were sitting right here in front of you. Use proper tone so they might heed your advice... Morgan. Talk to someone.

A battered and ratty journal, bought cheap from a garage sale. Bound in leather, with a neat twist-tie for a lock. Good luck opening that without knowing the command word and anti-ward orders, though. On the inside is scrawled two words; Morgan Crowe. Small marks on the front, under a table of contents - for a grimoire, it's not the most impressive thing in the world. Table Of Contents: >Page 10 - HellQ

Okay, Crow's going to first try and get out of those shackles with a short-range port, while he still has the chance. Concentration check! Concentration check! (1d20+10=25) - if that makes it, awesomeness - I'd like to try hucking my knives at those ruddy things and tie 'em up with my own snare if I can. Give me a shout if that's doable! Well, I guess the rest of Crow's turn is flailing about and hoping this doesn't turn into one of those comics from overseas! Everyone always wants to tie up the Cowl. T_T

The jabs met an upraised shoulder, as he came in again as close as he could - she felt her leg impact his right shin again, but rather than the hard bone-cracking impact she was used to, it felt more like a dull thud. Still hurt like hell, though - she saw him wince even as he nodded at her comment. Keynote of Morgan's style - you took what you had to when you had to. Mali knew full well - punching that guy was like punching a ruddy brick wall sometimes. Hard-packed muscle and skin weathered to something approaching leather; with his fists and knuckles even tougher. He launched a salvo of short, sharp chops towards her side - too short-range to really damage, but the taps would keep her moving; and his footwork was following her right on the dime. The key for her was staying fast and staying mobile - if he could herd her into the corner, she'd be in deep trouble real fast.

"Riddles within riddles." Crow murmured to himself - this was sometimes why he hated dealing with the fair folk; they couldn't say a single sentence without couching it in lyric and poetic metaphor. Well, unless they were trolls or some such, but even those big idiots could be convinced to start an Epic Poetry Battle Of History with the right throwdown words. "..." The hood shook it's head, and Crow shifted his hands from his pockets - looking about the room. A moment - he looked towards Blodeuwedd for her reaction to the lady's words.

Oh, this is going to be ugly. Okay, I can't match the Grapple Check unless I get a Nat 20... DC 35 Grapple Check! (1d20+10=12) - ahahahaha no. Still, there's a fair shot on the Fortitude save (also, Warden just stole Crow's favorite tactic. His ass is grass.) DC 20 Fortitude save! (1d20+5=20) - yaaaaay. Blod, get me outta this trap so we can go punch dudes! (Also, gods-damnit losing element of surprise. Bluh.)

"Right. Blod, go silent - two right, one left, it's the straight-on passageway with the steam pipe running down the left side. I'll be in midair, invisible - wait at the entrance and send a message over the rock when you get there. Be careful, watch for security - even odds he's got the sewers rigged." He'd gotten to talk to the Raven. Sweet Mary in a D-cup, he'd gotten to talk to the Raven. Crow was on such an adrenaline rush right now he practically /fell/ off that roof, biting back a whoop of joy as he vanished into thin air. Underground, only the keenest eyes would have picked out what occurred - those able to break the best of runic illusions and pierce Crow's concealment - and it was a sight to make even a professional athlete turn green. Superhero training, Mr. Archer 101, was good for a lot of things; including unique tactics. Crow appeared in midair, still falling as he had off the roof - and his arms shot out to either side. Razor-sharp and matte-black, the twin knives arced (briefly) through the air on wires that just shimmered into being under his coat - running up the arms, across the shoulders, and down around his belt. A silent snap of both arms, and he hung suspended in midair; hanging onto the wires - letting out a quiet rush of breath. The urge to hum the Mission: Impossible theme was overwhelming.

Working on what Crow's going to be doing right now - just need to figure a few things out first. Thev, PM sent your way enquiring for details!

Crow >Home For The Holidays >In The Shadow Of Sin! (Gold) >The Tiger and The Crow >We've Got To Stop Meeting Like This

Indeed. Crow's mental voice was remarkably calm despite the fact that he was now face to face with one of his idols - one of the individuals he'd held up as an example to follow since he was sitting on his dad's knee listening to stories of Freedom City and the heroes therein. Of course, behind the placid outer shell, his subconscious thoughts were more...well... ... ...ahem. Mental discipline and fortitude. Mental fortitude and discipline. Raven saw a simple nod from the cowled and masked youth, and a slight twitch of the fingers - the sweet smell of the knockout gas was abruptly cut as the wind dissipated, blowing away into a dozen tiny breezes. He let out a rush of breath then, the mouth under the mask twitching ever so gently. Welcome. Blue Jay is already inside, working her way down the elevator shaft. While she keeps Warden distracted, I'm about to open up a secondary entrance. He indicated a spot on the ground, below the front of the building. Of course they couldn't see through stone, but his next words likely got the message across. The lower levels are blocked from true sight - at least up here. Going to take a closer look, see if I can find a spot to infiltrate and support Jay. Can't take people with me, but there's a fast route to the spot I'd be teleporting to through that grate and down two tunnels. Now, this'll leave a space open for you two to... He hesitated on the next bit - seriously unwilling to try and give Raven orders, or even a request. Really, he was stopped pretty cold at that point - and Blodeuwedd had the unique experience of seeing that frosty cold terror of the underworld that Crow frequently portrayed actually shuffle his feet somewhat awkwardly. "..." ...er...

...whoopsie. Yes. Though thanks to Thevshi's generosity, cancel all of that except turning off that power, as Crow is going to fanboy a tiny bit and end up paralyzed with indecision because of it for an HP.