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Showing results for tags 'grimalkin'.
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JR's Family Farm and Corn Maze, Egg Harbor Township, NJ. Saturday, September 23rd, 2017. Shortly before 10:00 pm The Richardson family had given the heroes the use of their barn for this initial planning session; Emily Richardson had been nice enough to provide coffee, donuts and several lanterns, but Grimalkin, 'the Mistress of Mystery', had conjured up the long table and a dozen chairs that currently occupied the center of the barn. She'd also playfully decorated the place with colorful streamers, cobwebs and a few skeletons. The barn was redolent with the smells of farm animals and hay. Grouped at one end of the table were three figures; two of them were instantly recognizable by those who knew Freedom City's heroes, but the third, not so much. Grimalkin and her partner in all things the Shrike were joined by an older man in a wheelchair with a gray ponytail who wore a mask made from a black bandana with eyeholes cut in it, but otherwise wore well-worn denim and a pair of black Doc Martins. All of them were enjoying a cup of coffee, waiting for the others to arrive. After a few minutes of waiting, the older man checked his watch and sighed dramatically. "So how late do you think this meeting will go? You know your mom doesn't like me out late on Saturdays." "'Butch', can you please ixnay on the ecret identity-say? Some heroes are paranoid; they might be casing the joint invisibily to see if its a trap." Butch looked around nervously. "Oh, right...hadn't thought of that. 'Loose lips', am I right?" "Exactly." A few minutes later, the older civilian cleared. "Look, if I'm gonna join you on your adventures, can I at least get a utility belt or something? I don't have super-cool powers like you and your girlfriend here." "Dad, I'm not gonna get you a utility belt; you'd...try to use the laser blowtorch and burn the house down." Butch sniffed and folded his arms. "Fine, just let the bad guys take your old man hostage, then!" "Dad, just...ooh!" No said anything for several minutes until Gretchen reached out with her mental link. -You two are adorable.- -Quiet, you!-
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GM The Totality. The Solar Eclipse. Happens all the time, but why focus on it now? It has some magical significance for the Yellow Sign. Something about the Pact being weaker? Who knows, those guys are nuts. While they're being dealt with by other heroes, we focus on our daily life in Freedom City. Heroes with equally important tasks. Grimalkin, fae hero of great power. Spitfire, twisted firestarter. Red Moon, 'vampire'. Scion, former Olympian goddess. Going about their days as usual. Maybe they're fighting crime. Maybe they're trying to watch the eclipse (Good luck, only 70ish percent in New Jersey!)
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March 24, 2017. Freedom City. Various places. Mid-Afternoon. Six heroes. Varying ages. Varying skillsets. Varying modus operandi. All of who sudden vanished off the face of the earth. There was no flash of light, no psychedelic tube of travelling. It was simply six people who were one place and then suddenly not. But from their perspective, they had not moved. The world had suddenly become different around them. And yet much the same. What had happened wasn’t hard to figure out. This was not their world. ***************** It had taken Terrifica moments to figure out she wasn’t on her Earth anymore. The lack of tailpipes on the cars was one big clue. Another was the lack of trash on the street. A dozen subtle things that simply were wrong. Fear and curiosity mixed. Her motorcycle was a dimensional wall away, and it was highly unlikely even cash would be of any assistance. So, she was walking. It was indeed The Fens, but..not. The signs of poverty and desperation were…gone. There were people around, of course, but they were moving with a purpose in mind. No loitering on street corners, front stoops, or building lobbies. She fought back anxiety at being stranded. Away from home. From family. First things first. Find a library. Assuming they hadn’t been banned in this dimension, clues would be easy enough to find in one. Newpapers, history books, geography, even encyclopedias could be useful in getting her bearings. ***************** In her chambers, the Empress, her Imperial Majesty, Savior of Humanity & Mother of The Modern World, was kind of annoyed. “So. You’re telling me either the dimensional transporter I designed and built failed to function, or that you are the kind of idiot who can’t read simple information displays.” She waved her hand at an apologetic courtier. “No, don’t strain yourself trying to answer. Like always, I already know what happened. There was a flicker from the Terminus. Slight, but enough to throw off the location calculations. it wasn't unexpected.” She pulled back a sleeve and pressed at the flexible flatscreen on her wrist. “I’ve just uploaded the tracker program. It’s based on a combination of their dimensional and super power energy signatures, which were recorded during transport.” She saved her hand at the courtier, dismissing him. “Go. Find them and bring them to me. Gods know I can’t trust you to explain the problem to them.”
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GM Maybelle McQueen, Queenie It had been a long trying night. The Moore family reunion was one of the most trying ones. Sure, the guy who made Freedom City hell in the late 80s and early 90s, but he had a family. And money. So, a labor of love of your job was. Franklin was all talk surrounded by people. He knew of Queenie's heroics. If you weren't one of the best chefs in town for impromptu large gatherings he would have went elsewhere. After the restaurant was clean and the employees gone, you took to the sky. It was clear and refreshing. When you got home, there was a light on in the kitchen. As you called out, you heard a voice you hadn't heard in a long time. "Yeah honey," your deceased husband said, sitting at the kitchen table in the work clothes you saw him last in, "don't worry about... where am I?" Lynn Epstein, Grimalkin You were alone, looking through orders, just before the store opened. Lady Liberty merchandise was flying off the shelf ever since that biopic was made. In a world full of superheroes, people had their favorites. You got a text from Gretchen, as you were just about done and the doors were open. "Who's this?" Followed by a face that you knew Instantly. It was Ren. Nanowire. Alive. "I walked in our home to find him. Said he wanted to see you. Know where you were." A quick message followed, "Is there something you want to tell me?" Robert Spalding, Vita Nexus "Son," you heard you father for the first time in a long time. It was a questioning. he saw you using your powers to dispatch a bunch of hooligans trying to rob a parts store late at night. He seemed to come from absolutely out of nowhere. "You, you have it? That explains a lot now that I think about it." Your father smiled, healthy as the day is long. A quick scan revealed that it was a person, and it was alive. But something did not match up with 'being alive'. Mechanical wasn't the term for it, but He was running on human interaction. But for all intents and purposes, this was your father. Dr Dmitri Ivanovich Peshov, Comrade Frost "Champion," you heard Hel's voice from beyond. "Do not be alarmed, I'm here to deliver to you a task. People from the realm of the dead are coming up missing. I want you to investigate. Find out who's taking them." And that's the command you were given. No other words were spoken. Your investigation lead you to many different people with seemingly returned friends and family. Though they knew nothing of being dead.Just remembering their last healthy moment before dying and showing up in their family's home. Leilani Keli'i, Volcanic Unfortunately not all people coming back were nice and/or good people. Villains, yes. But abusive and alcoholic relatives also. Some ran for cover, others had their past to deal with. Still, there were protectors looking to do good in the world. Alive or dead they weren't going to get a free walk. Still, you heard the pleas that the dead had come back to life. That something was very very wrong.
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Silberman's Books The West End, Freedom City, New Jersey Tuesday, November 4th, 2014 11:16 AM GM Inside With the holiday season in full swing, Silberman's Books was looking at an upturn in their clientele. The morning had been so busy that Lynn hadn't had a moment to get off her feet with the curious flow of customers. There was one oddity though. A town car had parked directly in front of the store during opening hours according to Kiki. The passengers of said vehicle had not left the vehicle. But, there was the occasional noticeable stare in the storefront's direction. If the vehicle wasn't the sort the rich and priveledge would rent out for travel, one could reasonably surmise they might have been casing the store for a robbery. As it were, they were just creepy. Lynn noticed a Porsche, pull up behind the town car before her view was obscured by a lanky teenage boy with unkempt hair and poorly folded clothes. Shuffling his feet, the boy would open his mouth to ask her a question. "What sort of horror books do you have?"
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Lukēkā gā'um̐, Tibet Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking a breathtaking series of mountains that didn’t quite seemed liked it did flying into the village seemed as classically tibetan as you could get. It seemed almost timeless as if it came fully formed from another century. The locals seemed to be unconcerned with the sudden arrival of stranger as if they see similar things or stranger, than them. It was easy to spot who they were here to see if you knew what to look for her features were the same as Merge, though a more natural beauty. And a lot more conservatively dressed in suitable gear for the cold temperatures of the village, sat at a sturdy wooden table a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee in front of her. Spotting the heroes she gave a smile a stood up to greet them both. “Hi there I’m Nicki. Please take a seat I’m sure you’ve got some questions to ask.”
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GM Saturday, March 11th, 2017 Port Regal, Freedom City 11:21 AM There were those times when one wondered just how they got into the situation they were in. Truth be told, those situations probably were a large part of being a superhero around Freedom City. It usually was best not to think about it too much, yet, somehow, that was exactly what Gretchen McDaniels wanted to do right now. She had gotten roped into this thanks to her girlfriend, and the two of them were now standing in front of a large metal gate blocking the driveway. They had rung already, and somebody would come and get them in just a bit. Tied around some of the metal was bright green paper, cut into fine lines, together with a few balloons hanging off. The estate looked quite large, which in itself wasn’t a bad thing. But then, then it became more and more apparent. A sound most abhorrent. Something that really, really wasn’t necessary today, right? Children.
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OOC for this thing right here. Ask me anything. Because I forget stuff. And forget to do stuff. You know how it is. Before I forget (natch), this might help with understanding who the Empress is.
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Silberman's Books, at the corner of Frederick and Pratt. Saturday, February 4th, 2017. 12:05 pm. It was a rather cold and gray afternoon in February, the kind of day when really all you wanted to do was stay in bed, read a book, maybe watch something on Netflix; Gretchen in particular had argued in favor of this last point earlier that morning. But her girlfriend Lynn made the point that if they wanted a long and happy life, they wouldn't be working in retail; this led to a narrowing of the eyes and an icy telepathic rebuke. -Curse your alien faerie logic.- But now it was far too late; they'd been open for two hours, and it would be far too difficult to kill all the customers and hide the bodies. The surly barista was well and truly screwed, so she would just have to glare balefully at the Happy Morning People as they drank their coffee and ate their baked treats. You will all pay for this. For her part, Lynn was in the office, cheerfully going over her emails, seemingly oblivious to her love's virulent misanthropy this fine morning.
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From an early age, Jaden Maxwell had showed a love for cooking and baking, and was surprisingly talented at it too. Even before entering high school, he was able to confidently fry simple meals like eggs and bacon, or even put together mouth-watering chocolate chip muffins for a bake sale. Needless to say, he was very much within his element when making tasty delicacies. The sight and smell of freshly-baked bread and rolls alone was enough to remind him of the good times he had growing up...and that he still had a lot to live for. Wanting to give something back to the locals, he had opened up a small bakery on Riverside. A humble and modest shop that was set up like a square and painted with warm colors such as white and soft browns. Tables and chairs were set up outside and surrounded by rows of bushes with blooming flowers and roses to give off a pleasant, inviting atmosphere. A large billboard was above the oak door displaying a large tree that had a variety of sandwiches and pastries growing on its branches. Plastered on it were the words: "Homegrown Breads. Have A Slice Of Quality." "Thank you, come again!!" Jaden called out to his latest customers as they left the store carrying their orders. He sighed and nodded to himself with a smile before turning back to fill out another order. Even though the bakery was just getting off its feet, it had already attracted a nice amount of business which likely had to do with the delicious food that came in considerable portions yet at very generous prices too. The young man took a moment to himself to look up at a portrait of a younger version of himself sitting with his Aunt and Uncle under the Christmas tree. Warm smiles everywhere. Hopefully, one day they'd be able to be together again...but for now, there were orders to be fulfilled.
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Silberman's Books. Monday, November 28th, 2016. 10:00 am. If you worked in retail, the holiday season was always stressful; it had a way of simultaneously bringing out the best and worst in people, and it seemed to go on forever. Since she'd reopened the store in 2014, owner Lynn Epstein had seen business steadily increase each year; their numbers were never going to be amazing, especially given her insistence on paying her employees a decent wage, but the fact that they weren't always operating at a loss made her happy. Of course, considering the large nest egg she'd brought back from Otherworld, she could afford to operate at a modest loss for years if necessary, and she wouldn't even mind; reopening Silberman's was never about making money. But if she didn't want her employees to rebel and hoist her from the yardarm, she desperately needed to hire some holiday help, and hopefully keep a few of them on permanently. Which wasn't always easy when you ran a store that had a whispered reputation for weird goings on... Since she'd put the ad up over the weekend, Lynn had already gotten several resumes via email, which she was currently reading over in her office; she had her 'power team' this morning, Lance on bar and Gretchen at the register. It was early yet, so it was mostly the coffee and newspaper crowd of old Jewish men from the neighnorhood, as well as one or two 'hipster beards' sipping their espresso as they checked their email on their Powerbooks. Need any help out there? No. We're good for now.
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Silberman's Books, at the corner of Pratt and Frederick. Friday, March 17th, 2017. 11:00 am. Lynn Epstein didn't really get St. Patrick's Day; her mom was Jewish, and her father, who despite his last name was primarily raised Catholic, was essentially Jewish-Italian. She'd gone to Jewish schools throughout her childhood, so it was never part of her family life. Atlantic City had a parade down the Boardwalk, but her family always avoided it due to the presence of 'drunken hooligans' as her mom put it. But sadly when you work in retail, there are certain expectations from the public around major or even minor holidays, so while Silberman's Books didn't go all out, a few changes were made to the store for the week. A table of books on Irish history and Celtic mythology was set up near the entrance; it wasn't too crass, and the books selection was actually pretty varied. The changeling had conjured some tasteful decorations around the store, typically modeled on early 20th century designs as Lynn felt they were less intrusive. And lastly she'd made some special green Silberman's aprons, dark green with the store's name in a white Celtic font; even Gretchen who was usually annoyed by such things admitted they looked pretty good. Otherwise the store looked much the same as usual: bookshelves full of used books, posters of famous stage magicians on the walls, the magazine rack and newspapers up front, tables and chairs for reading and the consumption of food and drink, and the combined front counter/coffee bar. The store was fairly empty, as much of Freedom was engaged in various St. Pat's activities, so it was only the die hard coffee drinkers out and about. Gretchen was working the bar and counter this morning, although right now she was sitting perched on her high stool near the register, reading Dostoevsky's The Idiot in the original Russian thanks to her magic glasses. She was also playing The Pogues over the store's sound system, her one contribution to the day's celebrations. However, the store's owner did have someone coming in for an interview this morning; hopefully they'd be a good fit. Currently she was in her office checking email.
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OOC for this. Everything there is pretty much googleable, I don't expect any of them not to know the terms. To keep things simple I'm using Fomhóraigh for the mythical versions and Formorians for those from the book.
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1:43 PM 18/11/2016 Silberman's Books, West End Freedom City An old 1974 Dodge Monaco sedan pulled up in the alley beside the bookstore - the door requiring a few kicks before it popped open. A young man in a pageboy cap and worn out old pea coat clambered out, stretching; Morgan eyeballing the door and sighing. Stupid prudence. If he'd blown half the jack from the Baron job on getting his car's body tuned up along with the engine... Meh. Svartalves never liked extras. He reached into the back and took out a duffel bag, along with a notepad; checking the listed work order. Package number three, basic alarm array. He referred to it as the Blinky Light Package - mostly since unless the buyer picked up additions, it was basically a bright blinky light if anyone used magic in their vicinity. On the positive side, it was nice and cheap, and usually helped get people past the whole 'magic in business' hump. That being said, honestly? He'd have done this one for free. Scuttlebutt said Silberman's was a good place, and run by a lady who was firmly on the side of the angels, if you could trust the local kids. Still, guy's gotta eat, right? ...though that didn't necessarily stop him from adding a few, er, 'weekly special discounts' onto the bill. Even if the weekly special had only been declared about, oh, say, five minutes into their phone call. Of course he'd planned those specials all along, it was just a coincidence they came up then. And nobody had any proof otherwise. The young man jogged up the front stoop and knocked on the door. Giving a bit of that old-school no-entry-unless-invited thing.
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BEHOLD! MAGIC AND MISCHIEF!
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Toraigh, Republic of Eire 20th December 2016 GM Post Tomas O Floinin hating this island a little spur of rock sitting of the coast of Ireland, but it contained a treasure worth more than it's weight in gold so he'd spent months searching. None of the obvious historical or mythic places held the object, so he'd spent month growing to hate the island more as he scowled every millimetre of the place. Finally after all that time he'd found the object so in the middle of the night he ended up digging for the item, in the dark it wasn't that impressive an object, just a circular lump of iron around the size of the dustbin lid. As the light of the torch shone over it he could admire the fine Celtic carvings on it's iron surface, impressive it this object was as old as the myths suggested, more so for the planks of wood that it sat on that look like they'd been felled only yesterday. It was the Eochair Balor ar, Balor's Key and if the stories were true it was could hold a place so no one could enter through any magical means. It was ironic then that the weather, as always on this accused island, meant he wouldn't be able to leave until after the holidays. But still what harm would it be to wait a few more weeks?
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Silberman's Books. Sunday, December 11th, 2016. Sundays were sleepy at Silberman's, since the store didn't open until noon on the weekends; this largely eliminated the early coffee rush, but meant the folks who came in now were looking to take their time and stay awhile. The sales floor looked very Christmas-y, and the fragrance of the decorated Scotch pine filled the store. Lynn was in her office checking emails while Gretchen sat perched on her stool behind the counter, reading a magazine; her half trendy/half 'screw you' ensemble pegged her as a former art student, but nonetheless a playful pair of reindeer antlers were perched on her head.
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Silberman's Books. Wednesday, Novermber 30th, 2016. 11:00 am Even though it was probably her riskiest hire ever, Lynn was optimistic about hiring Merge; coverage would not be much of a problem anymore, and she felt that once she adjusted her groove a bit to match the tone of the store, the colorful duplicator would bring a lot to the team. But as tempting as a full staff of Merges was (Oh, the looks on the faces of the old Jews of the neighborhood; it would almost be worth it!), the changeling knew she still needed a few more warm bodies. The store was starting to slow down a bit from the morning coffee-and-danish rush, but a handful of regulars were still sipping their coffee. Maddy had the morning off, so it was Lance and Gretchen behind the bar/counter while Lynn walked the floor; today, she wore green curly toed shoes, a bright green sweater and comfy jeans under her brown Silberman's apron, all topped with a red Santa hat and a pair of cute 'elf ears' (nudge nudge, wink wink). The store was decorated in old-fashioned Christmas decorations, including a big Scotch pine covered in lights, and a train set chased itself around the table in the children's section.
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With the holiday season upon us, business is startling to pick up at Silbernan's Books, and owner Lynn Epstein (aka Grimalkin) could use a hand or two. New arrivals in Freedom looking for a way in or old familiar faces looking for a change are all welcome. Retail experience in your backstory is nice, but not a prerequisite. This could be either a temporary thing or part of your ongoing secret identity, your choice. The store's Reputation is now listed on Grim's rep sheet.
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Silberman's Books [15EP] Size: Small [0EP] Toughness: +10 [1EP] Features: [14EP] Communications Computer Fire Prevention System Gym Library Living Space Powers 4 (120PP, see below) Security System 2 (DC 30) Workshop (Electronic, Magical) Powers: [120PP] Concealment 1 (ESP Effects, Extras: Area [General, Burst], Duration [Continuous], Feats: Progression [Area] 4 [100ft/rank = 100ft radius], Selective)[9PP] (Magic Wards) Dimensional Pocket 2 (Flaw: Range [Touch], 250 lbs.) [2PP] (Magical Safe) Nullify 12 (Summon, Super-Movement [Dimensional Travel], and Teleport Effects of Any Descriptor, Extras: Action 3 [Reaction], Area [General, Burst], Duration 3 [Continuous], Selective, Flaws: Range [Touch], Feats: Progression [Area] 1 [10ft/rank = 120ft radius]) [109PP] (Magic Wards)
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Silberman's Books. August 31st, 2016 10:05am. It was just after 10, and the forecast was brutal; the store had only been open for a few minutes, and it was already a furnace, because the AC was down and it would be a few hours before the HVAC repairman could make it over. This and the large standing sign in front of the door warning about the lack of AC kept a lot of the regulars from coming in for their morning cup, which was sad, but seeing that many of them were elderly, Lynn that it as best that they knew from the get-go. Of course, due to their respective powers, neither Lynn nor her partner Gretchen was uncomfortable, so they pretty much had the store to themselves so far this morning; Lynn was using it as a chance to catch up on paperwork in her office, while Gretch sat on a stool behind the counter reading Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, a collection of reviews by legendary rock critic Lester Bangs. Normally she'd be on her laptop, but without working AC she was concerned about the poor thing overheating. Several industrial standing fans were set up around the store to offer some relief for any would-be shoppers, and an oscillating desk fan perched on the counter next to Gretchen, occasionally stirring her hair with its breeze.
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GM Holt Hotel Midtown, Freedom City, NJWednesday, September 28th, 2016 12:00 PM The terrific Holt Hotel blends comfortably into the downtown area of Midtown's residential district. Despite being considered a budget hotel, the warmly decorated rooms seem to have a sleek almost futuristic furnishing style. Bathroom's are oasis inspired with a splash of color. Room service was closed after 8pm, but while active the food was a passable mix of American cuisine. Despite the fantastic amenities, at the end of the day it is still a value hotel. Far less luxurious than the sort of place one would expect multiple time bestselling author to hang his hat. Much less kill a woman. Yet a cursory glance of Enest Steinbeck's hotel room in the Holt Hotel had a story to tell. A story of a beheaded woman, her head nowhere to be found, posing on the bed. An eerie and outright disturbing scene that was quite literally a recreation of Steinbeck's first novel's big murder scene. No one had an account for Steinbeck's whereabouts. Steinbeck's last novel was released a decade ago. Coupled with his well known recent drinking habits, the media circus had already painted a villain. Except, there was absolutely no trace of the author. And no visible signs that he had ever left the room.
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Above Silberman's Books. Monday, August 1st, 2016. 11:36 am Lynn unlocked the door and pushed it wide open as she stepped into the living room/dining nook of the one bedroom apartment Tona recently vacated; the room was bright and airy, with hardwood floors, white painted walls and a working gas fireplace flanked by built-in bookshelves. Salvaged stained glass windows on the east wall added color and a charming rustic quality. "Okay, so this is the front room; that pillar sort of designates the dining area, but obviously you can use it however you want. There's no central heating or air, but the radiator heat is free and works great, and you've got ceiling fans and an AC unit in the bedroom." Gretchen followed in, pointing out the small flat-screen monitor on the wall near the door. "I've upgraded the security system. Multiple cameras, motion and heat sensors, extra sturdy locks."
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Lynn Epstein's Apartment. Saturday, June 18th, 2016. 2pm. It was a very mild and pleasant late spring day; there was no need to run the AC, so instead Lynn and Gretchen had just opened all the windows and turned on all the ceiling fans, so that cool breezes and succulent cooking smells wafted through every room. The weekend before, Gretch had offically moved in, and at her insistence the apartment now possessed real live, actual furniture; some of them were ancient hand-me-down pieces that once bellonged to her late grandmother back in Maine, all dark, massive and brooding. Others were recent additions from the Ikea out in Ashton, which they had bought together, because that's what couples do. It took a while to get used to, but Lynn was starting to enjoy the smell of history on the old stuff pleasantly mixing with the new stuff that smelled of dorm rooms and promise. What was a bit harder to get used to were Gretchen's ferrets, Otto and Bosco; they tore around the apatment like they were rats on crack, their long, loping bodies wriggling into every corner imaginable, terrifying Lynn's three cats DB, Mafia and Plaque Attack, who currently spent most of their time hiding out in the bedroom. The ferret cage stood in one corner of the living room, a symbol of the end of the Era of Feline Domination. Out on the rear deck was the Weber grill that Gretchen had also insisted on, which was having its trial run this weekend; it hadn't been fired up just yet, because Lynn wanted everyone to have a little time to have a drink and kibbitz. As for the couple themselves, each was representing their unique stylistic tastes. Lynn wore sandals, a short denim skirt and a creamy, sleeveless cotton blouse; her hair was up and out of the way, indicating that she was both hard at work and comfortable enough with the guests to reveal her pointed ears. Meanwhile, Gretchen wore boots, loose cut jeans and a black vintage Lou Reed t-shirt; surprisingly, her hair was also up, showing a rare glimpse of her graceful neck. The two women worked together smoothly like a well-oiled machine, a machine that frequently stopped to smile or affectionatly touch a shoulder. Their guests would be here soon.
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Not sure if we'll really need this, but a better place for stuff than just doing PMs. For the record, I am a very bad chess player, so I don't think we should get very detailed about Gretchen and Lawrence's game
