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Showing results for tags 'blue fox'.
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September 1, 2013 Typhoon City (formerly Qalansiyah), Free Kingdom of Socotra From the perspective of Freedom City, anyway, it started small. A freak storm in the northwestern Indian Ocean, lashing coasts as far as the Arabian Peninsula and the Horn of Africa. A sudden media blackout on the island-nation of Socotra; with even its ample (and often illegal) Internet going dark. Socotra was on the radar of only a few people in the city with its lord and master gone largely into retirement, and a brief blackout was an occasion for concern, but not alarm. Of course, some people had closer ties to the Socotran royal family than others. Standing on the roof of the royal palace of Typhoon, on its best days a magnificent palace of Arabian and Indian styles, surrounded by ever-flowing fountains of fresh water that were among the tallest such in the world, Mark Lucas stared at what lay in Qalansiyah harbor, and beyond it, and for one of the few times in his life honestly had no idea what to say. He took the hand of his girlfriend Nina al-Darsah, princess-turned-college-student, and when he made eye contact and saw the fear she would never, ever, ever admit to having, he said the only thing that made sense. "I'm going to call for help." "Well...I suppose," said Nina, putting her arm around him, the shadows in which they both stood casting her dark face into gloom. "Normally this is something the royal family would handle amongst ourselves, of course, but this, yes, this is something that your friends could help with." She hugged him, stepped aside so he could disappear without her, because what princess would leave her kingdom in a time line this? and said "Hurry." With a nod, Mark's costume flashed up around him before he vanised himself - reappearing in the main foyer of the famous Midnight Manor! "Trevor, Erin!" he called out loud as his shoes creaked on hardwood floors. He'd been gone just half a day, but what a day it had been! "I need your help with something! Something...big!" He had to laugh at the absurdity of it.
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Saturday, April 6th 11:32 AM Cannonade usually wouldn't have been in costume and about town this early on a Saturday. But he, like the rest of the Liberty League, had been on high alert the last few days. There'd been a number of suspicious thefts in the Freedom area over the last few days, and if the pattern held up, odds were the thieves weren't going to take a day off. Midnight had been the first to notice the pattern. On Thursday night, at around 3 AM, several items went missing from the Harcourt family vault at Eastern Seaboard Bank. They could tell the time because the disappearance of the items had set off the motion detectors and pressure sensitive plates in the vault - even though the thieves had not. There was no sign of breach, no sign of forced entry, and no sign of electronic subversion of the vault's countermeasures. Then, around midnight on Friday, someone had done a smash-and-grab on the Valert mansion in the North End and had stolen several antiques from the family's private collection. Two thefts that might, by themselves, be either coincidences or the sign of a particularly brave gang of robbers. But the Valerts had a reputation for considering private acquisitions the family hobby. Their collection was rumored to consist of pieces that might better belong in a national museum - bits of Greek architecture, Renaissance painting... and paraphernalia from the homes of Hitler's inner circle. Likewise, the Harcourts had a black sheep in their family tree - Roland Harcourt, who it was rumored had made a bank securing Nazi funds in American institutions. Some of which he might have actually kept. So it appeared that somebody was going about stealing Nazi assets - or, worst case scenario, relics. Which was why Cannonade was on patrol in Midtown, keeping his eyes locked on the Super Museum. Midnight had been able to narrow down a few "avenues of interest" for the robbers to strike at, potential assets that the thieves might strike at - private collections, arcane libraries, and so forth. The Museum was hosting another retrospective on the heroes of WWII, this time focusing on some of the artifacts belonging to the Reich's own superpowered operatives. There was little chance anything was going to go down in the light of day, but he'd volunteered to keep an eye on Downtown. And hey, nothing wrong with spending more time at the Super Museum. "Nothing big so far," he said into his communicator. "Anything on your ends?"
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For dice and OOC talk re: >this thread.
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The Liberty League and Sage try to figure out who's stealing Nazi relics. The answer? Fascist leprechauns. Yes, really. As the thread starts, odds are each hero is checking out their own possible Freedom-based cache of former Nazi belongings - dusty storehouses, old banks, mansions of the morally dubious, and so forth. Feel free to describe the scene.
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Eve exhaled slowly, shoring up her resolve and willing the butterflies to leave her alone, at least for a few moments and risked a glance at the mirror. Outwardly she appeared calm and collected, but the young woman knew what to look for, and saw the faint mark of nervousness on her features. But worry was reasonable, even expected, as she was about to put into motion something she spent a long time planning. Brushing a hand through her snow white hair--longer than it had been in years, resting between her shoulder blades--Eve stepped from her car. She stood outside the Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship, though today she wasn't here for training; her jacket, blouse and knee-length skirt made for poor sword-fighting apparel. The worst that he can say is no, Eve thought to herself as she gathered her courage and entered.
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OOC for
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GM May 14th, Monday, 2013, 5.00PM Martel Enterprises(American Branch Main Office), Wading Way, Freedom City Eve Martel had been paying a brief, albeit incisive, visit to her family's local holdings in the city, catching up on the sometimes quick, sometimes slow but always continuing advancement of human knowledge that Martel Enterprises assisted. In the main lobby she and the three research leads were making their final polite goodbyes as the day shift began making way for the night, when a noise of somebody frantically running downstairs interrupted them, the four turning to see Dr. Florence Bridges practically leap the last staircase and come racing up to them, eyes wide, graying brown hair nearly shaken out of its bun. Nearly colliding with the quartet, she caught herself a few feet from them and stood for a few seconds, gulping in air before she managed to gasp out "M-Miss Martel! It's Garamond, h-he's vanished! I was in the r-r-room with him, talking about that new species of bact-anyway, I looked away for a second to get a book from his shelf, and when I looked back he had just...just disappeared!" The research leads glanced at each other, one of them deftly slipping the radio from her belt and calling security sotto voce, one of the others moving to calm Dr. Bridges while the third turned quickly to Eve "It might be best to evacuate the building, with your leave I'll start sending word to the employees" Meanwhile, the dignified-looking man attempting to lead Dr. Bridges to a chair suddenly asked sharply "Doctor, where's your radio?" Florence looked dazedly at the empty spot on her belt, then stiffened. "I...I had it when I went to his office, maybe I dropped it...no. It was gone when I turned around too!"
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With the winter break over, a large portion of Trevor Hunter's time was once again being taken up by classes at Freedom City University. The bulk of his classes for the new semester were theoretical studies that had little chance of capturing his attention fully, since he'd had opportunity to put most of the principles being taught into practice in his alter-ego as the second Midnight. The dark haired young man wasn't adverse to restudying fundamentals and the course work's exercises were worthwhile, but he found it easy enough to split his focus while taking in a lecture. Telepathic communication was at least more polite than texting or browsing social networking sites in the middle of class. --Wrapping up here. Five, ten minutes. Meet you in the quad?--
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The night of January 15, 2013 2 AM The call went out to le Renard Rouge's, Cobalt Templar's, and the Liberty League's line, one after the other, at a time that just happened to catch them all when they were otherwise indisposed. The woman's voice on the other end is rough and raspy, with the tension clear as she speaks. "
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Cobalt Templar, the Liberty League, and Eve Martel deal with some bad medicine.
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A warm summer breeze blew through the West End street of small businesses and restaurants weathering the times with varying degrees of success. The light wind stirred the gorgeous flowering plants hanging from the second storey windows of one such building, trailing leaves and vines brushing against the top of a bold gold-on-black sign that proclaimed the street-level floor to be home to "The Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship!". The dojo had been open for a little over a month at that point, attendance gradually picking up as fliers throughout the city and good word-of-mouth did their job. The proprietor was a well like native of the neighbourhood if unknown in the city at large and while the more introductory self defense courses were all well and good it was the more specific sword fighting classes which were purportedly worth the trip. Erik Espadas himself was locked in particularly grueling battle with the second hand computer on the reception desk, attempting to bring up the spreadsheet with the list of new students signed up for that week's class. "No, that's the budget," he grumbled under his breath, the annoyed expression on his lightly stubbled face visible from the other side of the large windows that looked out onto the street. "Depressing but not helpful right now. C'mon..." The attendee would be showing up shortly; if he could get this sorted out he was going to have to track down a pad of paper and a pen to take attendance.
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The swordsmanship class for Blodeuwedd, Gaian Kight, Myrmidon and Sage!
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May 18, 2012 The first thing that Kimber Storm noticed as terribly, urgently wrong as she staggered, coughing from the cloud of smoke was not in fact that she had to cough or even stagger. Neither should have been a concern for the long since deceased poltergeist, but her first thought was that she was wearing absolutely the wrong hood. Rather than the ethereal cowl of her usual reaper's cloak, this was a heavy fabric attached to a sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off and something scrawled on the front in stylized spraypaint. The jumpsuit underneath she recognized as the Claremont Academy uniform, which she was also sure wasn't right. Raising her hands to pull the hood out of the way, she saw that they were a healthy pink, undeniably solid and beating with a pulse. "Oh, marmalade," the living girl gulped. Thirty Minutes Earlier It took a lot of concentration from Kimber to keep her excited feet on the floor as the group of students entered the famous 'Super Museum' in Midtown, and even more concentration to keep her excitable body language confined to the shelter of the black umbrella blocking the sun's rays from revealing her as a translucent specter. The school trip to see the recently unveiled Lucas Collection had prompted a few significant looks between the senior members of the current iteration of Young Freedom, but the entusiastic Canadian was just looking forward to seeing all of the memorabilia in person. If all of the pieces were half as interesting as the ones mentioned specifically in the brochure, it was bound to be a memorable day!
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Power swapping! Whee! We'll catch up with the first bit soon enough, but for now just describe arriving at the museum.
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14 April 2012 The weather is nice today, Eve thought as she looked out across the Great Bay. It was a fleeting thought, and only a momentary distraction from the anxiety gnawing at her, for guests would be arriving soon. Eve was never one for drawing attention to herself--the few friends she had knew she preferred to be the quiet, unseen hand in the background--but there were certain things she was unable to avoid. Unavoidable, perhaps, but not immutable. By floating out an invitation to her friends and teammates, and most importantly Etain, Eve was able to neatly sidestep the preconceived notion of what an eighteenth birthday party for someone of her wealth and status should be like. Taking things into her hands would allow the Martel heiress to do things her way. That thought brought a smile to her face as she slipped back into her room then headed down the stairs, guests would be arriving soon, after all.
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When: 14 April 2012Where: Martel Estate (Windrush), North Bay, Freedom City Who: Both YF 1.5 and YF 2.0 have been floated invites, so who attends is up to the players of the cross team PCs. Etain was, of course, invited.
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Amongst all the drama, be it world-threatening or simply teenage growing pangs, it was often easy to forget that Claremont was first and foremost a place of education, albeit one with a truly unique curriculum. Given the broad spectrum of powers and abilities the students were there to hone, it simply wasn't feasible to have an expert in each and every area on staff. Instead, part of the senior students' own development involved aiding their underclassman peers where they were able. So it was that Eve Martel, the supremely talented telepath and telekinetic better known in some circles as Sage, had organized something of a study group with two of the school's junior students who both hailed from outside the United States and were versed in the application of mind over matter. While Kristin Jones, the redheaded Australian who sometimes went by Glow, had by far more raw telekinetic ability than the spectral Deceased-Canadian Kimber Storm, the gregarious Ghost Girl, the object of the exercise was in fact fine control. Eve had instructed them to meet her after afternoon classes in the campus' zen garden, a secluded and rarely visited spot free from distractions. Unfortunately, tranquility was not one of the words most commonly associated with Kimber, who bobbed up and down excitedly in the air as she arrived, the light of the waning sun washing through her translucent blue form, obscuring her outline from the right angle. Although it was a perfectly calm day, the poltergeist's hair rose and fell as though caught in an unseen wind or current. "Am I early?" she chirped eagerly.
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Second Week of January 2012 Christmas and New Years were not a particularly meaningful holiday for Sharl, lacking a cultural understanding of the holiday and a chronological mindset that made the change between one year and the next relevant to his day-to-day life. It wasn't even like he'd gone onto a new grade at Claremont yet, something that made all this talk of school years seem terribly archaic. But things had gone pretty well for him; he'd gotten a house upgrade from Miss Americana that he was still customizing; the incredible, sinful luxury of another five rooms to himself, not to mention a simulated animal to tend to, was still something he was trying to wrap his mind around. Home and how different it was from Claremont had been on his mind lately: he'd managed a trip back home during the school holiday to visit his family in Tronik and to do some more superheroing in his home city, where the "mysterious Citizen" had gotten a chance to pull off some pretty impressive feats of derring-do, culminating in a spectacular rescue of a sinking exploratory ship on its way to visit the new set of islands Leroj had helped raise at the end of the previous month. No one on the outside had seen that, and maybe none of them would care, but he'd still felt good about it coming out. And that, he thought, had been that until Mr. Summers had summoned him and all of Young Freedom into his office the first day they were all back on campus after the Christmas break. Even with Mrs. Harcourt, by no means Sharl's favorite teacher, as their chaperone, Sharl was inordinately happy: they were going back to the Sanctum, the place that held his home, and with any luck his friends would be able to see it for themselves! With his usual laptop as his companion, Sharl put aside his house and went to work studying the school's files on the Sanctum again, heedless of the Arctic winter outside their jetplane window. After all, the Sanctum was one of the great repositories of super-tech on Earth, as well as the home of his home city: he'd better know something about it!
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Second Week of January, 2012 Young Freedom 2.0 goes to the Sanctum, and by extension to the Claremont Academy. (This is set after Wraith's return from the Hunter planet, chronologically)
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GM October 10th, 2011 The West End, Freedom City The holiday was in full swing, and the kids of Young Freedom were doing their homework. The Columbus Day Parade was an annual Freedom City tradition. While it was nowhere near the size or intensity of the celebrations in New York City, the city's Italian population regularly congregated upon the West End to celebrate their heritage and the long road to America. Like any other city's celebrations, it had its share of controversies - several aldermen had tried over the years to get the parade officially renamed in the face of protests from Native American groups - but Headmaster Summers had put the fledgling superteam on assignment for a different reason. "The police are often overworked at celebrations like this," he had told Young Freedom, "and sometimes, things escape their notice. Especially when the person moving about has talents that go beyond what the human eye sees. Then there are the opportunists. Most supervillains aren't above a simple hostage situation, and a parade is a good opportunity. While it's hard for a single villain to control a large number of individuals, if they have the right powers, they can net enough to issue demands. Stay on observation. Keep to the fringes of the parade, but move through the crowds when you can. Odds are everything will go smoothly - but if it doesn't, I want you to be the first to notice, and the first to respond." And so, the Claremont students moved through the crowd and outside it, trying to keep a low profile. They were ready for if danger emerged... but maybe Summers was right. Maybe today would go off without a hitch.
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Young Freedom starts off with a conventional assignment to protect a Freedom City gathering that will soon become anything but conventional. I'll give Young Freedom a few minutes to enjoy the Columbus Day parade before the chaos begins. Sample the cannoli!
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September 26, 2011 9 AM The first mission of the new Young Freedom, at least upon their return from their world tour, was to guard Freedom Hall during what just might be the end of the world. Headmaster Summers, and the older students, had reassured the new kids that this was in the finest tradition of Claremont's premiere teen hero team. Sharl had been away for the last couple of days, and so he'd missed all those reassurances about what kinds of threats Young Freedom had faced before. Of course, for those students not used to world-threatening disasters, those words were not reassuring. What had been reassuring, in a martial sort of way, was the stern speech they'd all gotten from Lady Liberty before she and the rest of the Freedom League had departed. "Listen, all of you. I know you're teenagers, and I know you didn't sign up for this." She'd paced back and forth in front of all of them, meeting each gaze, even the ones who looked away. "But the world's in peril right now, and that means it's time for all of us who can help to do our part. The world's going to be saved, I can promise you that, but it's going to take each and every one of you to do that. The Freedom League needs to go into space to help organize our defenses on the Moon against the Gorgon. That means someone needs to watch Freedom Hall and make sure none of the artifacts here fall into the hands of supervillains. The last thing we need is a world where we've beaten the Gorgon but lost our homes to supervillains who've seized control of some of the most powerful items in the world. Are there any questions?" she asked them. "If any of you do want to back out now, now's the time." They'd have an adult chaperone for this one; Mr. Archer having left the gym behind to act as their guardian while they guarded the centerpiece of hero history in Freedom City. Things weren't pleasant outside, not with the demonstrators protesting the League's 'inaction', nor the continuing violence in the streets that Freedom City's adult heroes were doing their best to handle. Hell, there'd been an outright battle near the Claremont campus between the Irregulars and a Claremont graduate who'd gone berserk from the stress! Inside the League's briefing room, though, all was quiet as Lady Liberty's question echoed in the room.
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September 26, 2011 Young Freedom Citizen, Ghost Girl, Sage, Cobalt Templar, Wraith, and Papercut are left to watch Freedom Hall. What could go wrong? (It turns out a lot)
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Once Becky was safely in the hands of True North and Kimber had done all she needed to do at her old homestead, Young Freedom's members young and old crowded aboard the regional jet flight from Thunder Bay to Detroit. Though Sharl could easily have emailed himself straight to the DPD mainframe and searched as he would, he made a point to stay on the plane with his colleagues. He was acutely aware of how alone he was out here, so far from the few people in Freedom City he did know, and the last thing he wanted to do was alienate the people who were supposed to be on his team. He was here to be part of the real world, to make connections and alliances that would give him the tools he needed to protect Tronik; hell, he was here to have adventures in this wide-open alien world! This wasn't the time to get into stupid arguments with his friends. So while the others socialized, he took the opportunity to crack open his laptop to connect to the local satellite network (carefully using a tightly-focused IR signal that wouldn't interfere with the plane's own navigation) to research their target: Koshiro McMillan of Detroit, Michigan, and the city itself in the process. Detroit had once been a center of petroleum-based industry that had fallen on hard times, and looking at his laptop screen, it looked like things hadn't gotten any better. Freedom City was sparse enough, but a city like Freedom that had lost so many of its people was a strange thought to contemplate. There must be so much to explore! When his search came up with something, or rather, something that was nothing, Sharl said "Hmm...it says Koshiro McMillan's record has been sealed by the order of a judge. So I don't know. What kind of things would cause someone to be held in a juvenile detention facility?" he asked, pointing to the address on his computer that matched where they'd been told to go.
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In which a paper crane flies from the window, a free bird!
