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GM Dec 5th, 5.48 AM, Freedom City Junior Ballet "Special delivery, special delivery!" A young man, not yet in his twenties, just off his bicycle, came into the practice hall waving an envelope. It was a chilly day, but he was sweating. Part of it, surely, from a morning of bicycling, but perhaps coming into a hall full of lithe women stretching might also excite his inexperienced hormones. He tried not to look too much, and read out the address on the envelope. "Miss Cor-reen Conrad? Miss Correen Correen Con-rad?" he blurted, looking around without trying to let his eyes linger on any one form in particular. A few dancers gave a little laugh at his glowing cheeks. The envelope in question looked rather old, and had elegant inked handwriting on. It felt, and indeed was, rather antique.

Disclaimer: This thread contains violence, potentially suggestive themes, and language. Discretion is advised. 2:30 AM. May 1st, 2017 Red Rat's crappy apartment It was small. And sort of home. Big enough for her, and not for the impromptu house guests, and she wasn't expecting them at all. At the front of the door, came the strains of "Ostatnia Niedziela" with a voice muffled a bit, trying to sing along to Mieczysław Fogg. There was another noise, low guttural, from deep within something large going in some sort of counterpoint to the failed sing-along by the other. Fortunately her neighbors were not inclined to investigate, and closest apartment to hers was currently vacant. Leaving just the 'music' drifting into the air, under a flickering florescent hall light, syncopated to the watlz's 3/4.

January 2, 2018 North Hanover January 2 - the last day of vacation for the students of Claremont Academy. It's a good day to wrap things up, and indeed between one thing and another, all of Phae and Cathy's friends are busy tonight. That's okay, it means more time for them. After duty is finished. Auld Reekie has been one of Scotland's most notorious supervillains since before Cathy was born, and no wonder! With his armored, ornately-carved body, he looks a bit like a steampunk robot - though he claims to be the spirit of a demon of pollution bound inside a golem crafted from cold iron. He's notorious in Scotland for attacking windfarms, recycling centers, and other places and peoples trying to pull Scotland into a green, clean 21st century. And as of last report (via friends in the Vanguard who'd rather talk to a Scottish superheroine than an American team), he's recently arrived in Freedom City from Edinburgh, and is holed up in a warehouse somewhere in North Hanover near the Jameson Airport. He's a notorious criminal (albeit not violent enough to be a major priority for the Freedom League) and bringing him in would be a fine feather in the cap of Frostbyte. The warehouses here are new and clean - though rather dull. As far as Frostbyte and Ardent can tell from their rooftop perch, it's all low steel and brick warehouses from here to the chainlink fence that marks the edges of the airport proper. Luckily it's cold enough and dark enough that nobody seems to be trying to spot them above the brightly glowing yellow streetlights here. And one of them has her own means of finding demons.

Sstetsson Temporary Camp, Tethron V Tethron System, Sharahazad Sector Tethron V was the biggest colonized planet in its system, and while not their homeworld, the local Geq’s most important planet. A bustling hub of activity, many cities were spread out around the entire planet. And even if some of them were true metropolises, there still was a lot of nature. Thethron V was a nice planet by most standards. Lush, plants and animals wherever one looked. Waterfalls and lagoons, mountain ranges either covered in all sorts of trees, or piercing above the clouds. The further the distance from the centers of population, the more one saw. And yet, when approaching Sstetsson Camp, it was a dark contrast to the beauty of the planet itself. Spaceships of all sizes, from fighters to large cargo ships, all inside the valley. The smaller ones on the outside, to form a perimeter, the larger ones inside, where they served as shelter. Some had set up tents, each of them full of people. Sstetsson Camp had been created shortly after the first news of refugees arriving in Sharahazad Sector had arrived in Tethron. A large group of Asshui settled down on the planet, as a temporary measure. It had only been a few ships at the beginning. But more arrived, and it seemed like it wouldn’t stop. That had been only a few days ago. And already, the conditions inside the camp were dire. The surrounding cities were not equipped to handle the amount of people, and even if the Asshui did their best to help, it was clear that something had to be done. To that end, various diplomatic representatives from all across the galaxy had been invited by Sstetsson, the leader of the original group, and current head of the camp. Amongst the invited were Councillor Ditra Fifty-Five, sent as the first Nameless to ever make contact with the new species, and as one of the Council’s many representatives. Dol-Druth had also been sent. Sharahazad Sector had never been an object of interest before, and with it suddenly becoming the focal point of large parts of the galaxy, it was more important than ever to have somebody right at the scene. And somebody to gather as much information as possible. The Praetorians had also received the news, and had followed it with much attention. While some were currently busy at other ends of the galaxy, the impeding Sharahazad Crisis, as it had been dubbed, became a big priority. As the person with the most proficiency, Sitara had been sent to attend the diplomatic meeting, mainly to observe.

Claremont Academy Friday, December 9 3:42 PM The trees were busy. Lilly was still coming into her connection to the ephemeral to a certain degree. She had the basics down and knew her oak from her holly, but she was still trying to understand so much about spirits. Their language, their politics, their intricacies... it was a lot to take in. But she at least felt she knew something. Like how some tree spirits should be dormant in the winter. But here they were - the oak, the cedar - gathering on the grounds of Claremont and associating with their brethren. And they seemed to be knocking on the trunks of the sleeping trees, trying to get in. --- Lincoln Friday, December 9 6:32 PM It was already dark, but winter did that. It just meant more time to patrol. Unfortunately, while the cold never quite bothered her, nights of balancing crime fighting and finals prep did, which was why Temperance was feeling a bit reluctant to take to the sky this evening. After about 15 minutes on the ice sledge, she realized she'd need something hot and caffeinated if she wanted to avoid the world's most embarrassing - if unique - collision. She set the sledge down outside of a 7-Eleven, somehow managing to find a parking space that had not been claimed by a lawn chair in preparation of the oncoming snow. "Excuse me." Temperance turned to find a man in a green Eisenhower jacket and Smokey hat lurking in the corner. "They say you're the water girl around her," he said. "Well, one of them. They didn't exactly have contact info, but the police said I might be able to find you around here." "I'm one of the ones who deal with water, yes. But if the police sent you to me, I imagine it's a bit... stranger than that." The man extended his hand. "Jack Perkins, National Parks Service," he said. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a folder and handing it to Temperance. "We had a... recent incident, and was wondering you might be able to bring your particular insight to it." Temperance flipped open the folder, only to be hit with a crime scene. An SUV, covered in mud and wet leaves, lay on the edge of a snow-covered shore, a tow cable hitched to the back. The next photo showed the interior of the car, and the body sitting in the front seat. The man was dressed in winter woodsman gear, complete with watchman's cap, and had that particular coloration one might associate with a drowned man. Hell of a way to start the evening. Still, Temperance had to maintain her composure to sell the mystique. She looked to Jack. "These photos are telling me a story, and I'm guessing it's not the obvious one." "The deceased is Thomas Laurent. 29, former lineman working out of Barnegat. We found a chainsaw and pitons in his car - logging equipment. He was in the middle of Wharton." Wharton. A picture was starting to come together in her mind. She knew it was the wrong one, but she didn't know just what she was looking for yet. "So, the theory is, he was engaged in illegal logging, drove out into a snowy glade, parked on a frozen lake, and went through the ice. But I'm guessing there's something wrong with that picture..." Jack nodded. "The car was in park when it was extracted from the lake. But there were tire treads running 200 feet from the shore. And, according to our forensics guys, the tires were not running when the car make its trip. It's as if... something pushed it into the lake." Temperance studied the photos again. She thought she might be seeing things, but the front bumper looked a little loose. "Or dragged it."

GM January 26, 2018, 3:30 pm It wasn't terribly unusual for strange things to happen out in Wharton State Forest. The wildlife made it dangerous enough, though no more dangerous than any other forest, all things considered. Campers and hunters frequented parts of it, so a distinctly human presence made it manageable. Nevertheless, there where times when things just took an unexpected turn--strange sightings, weird noises... and it seemed this was no different. Even from a mile or two away, one could see it: a great black haze covering a considerable portion of the woods like an opaque dome. Trees withered at its edges, and by all accounts, the dome was slowly expanding. The shadowy blight reeked of something ancient and terrible, attracting the attention of at least two interested parties...

GM January 3rd, 2018, Soho, London, Club Immortus Dreadnought slept with his future brothers, deep and sound in an enchanted slumber, to wake in the new year of 2018 by Mr. Murk, who had most interesting news... Mr Murk brought coffee with him, as Dreadnought woke from his one hundred and sixty seven year slumber. He was surrounded by (now) at least ten sleeping Dreadnoughts, his future selves. The coffee was strong and black. "You may need this. Of course, caffeine might not work on you" said Mr. Murk, handing a bucket full of coffee to the immortal. "You awake in 2018. It seems the world has need of you, or more precisely, your team mate, Foreshadow" he explained, slowly and carefully, waiting for the enchanted slumber to seep away. "However, my vision is more cloudy on this. More cloudy than it should be, even within the strange fog that is the future. I sense...interference...manipulation..." he explained. "I think you might be needed...." Because, just then... Foreshadow, as a member of Vanguard, was being introduced to a Mr. Anton Vasilyev, ex-KGB intelligence officer. This meeting was beyond top secret. It was a private, secure room. Possibly bugged by the Ministry of Powers - but Foreshadow foresaw no such future. As far as he knew, via his foresight or skill, the room was secure. Of course, the ministry of intelligence would be pressing him to extract as much information as possible. "This room...its secure...yes?" asked Anton in fluent English. He must have been a good spy. Maybe he still was. A strong man of average height, non descript face bar a broken nose, and wearing unremarkable clothes. "What I need to tell you...its personal...about your family..." he explained. "Not really for others to know...."

GM Bayview Heights Bayview, Freedom City New Jersey Wednesday, February 1st, 2017 5:30 PM So an Avian royal, a psilent human weapon, an elementally empowered university student, and an undead magician walk into a bar. No it's not a set up. This odd collection of heroes were investigating a biker gang that had been rumored to have a supply of zombie powder they wished to get back on the streets. Even managing to successfully track down the biker's favorite dive bar, nestled away in the affluent part of Southern Freedom, Aka Bayview. The plan was for Errant to keep them mentally cloaked while they scoped out the inside. That was until he turned his head to the television and heard the Atlantean declaration of war. All of a sudden his attention faltered for the slightest of moments and they became visible in the middle of the bar. Completely surrounded by bikers.

GM The Bridges connecting North and South Emerald Mallory Bay, The Emerald Cities, Washington and Oregon Wednesday, February 1st, 2017 6:00 PM The Emergency Civil Defense Siren blared throughout the city. Atlantis had sent warning ahead of time of an attack through an encrypted military frequency. It wasn't long before local seismic activity changed drastically, with scientists able to predict the fact that a massive tsunami was coming for the cities. Coupled with rush hour traffic, this meant that the bridges connecting the sister cities were filled to the brim. Defenseless, as the waves could be seen in the distance. Nearing by the minute. The frantic sense of fear overwhelming the drivers did nothing to speed up the egress issue. In fact, people started getting into car accidents in a desperate bid to escape the bridges. Unintentionally trapping themselves and others and dooming them to their fate. That was unless aid happened to arrive in a timely manner.

GM Some criminals run operations that Freedom League members won't touch. There are outliers that do the more grey stuff for truth and justice. Silent Justice is an app solicited to heroes who are looking to pay it forward. Sometimes it's just to get a cat out of a tree or help a granny across the street. Other times, there are cryptic messages that will be there for just a minute and then gone. These are the jobs that no one wants to do. Still within the confines of the law, but no one cares of the villain stops breathing air. No killing, yes yes, but accidents happen. Tonight's port of call were traffickers. Good Intentions was a business that dealt in warm storage. The more lively and healthy the body, the better 'parts' it would make. Don't worry, you've never heard of them. If you have you'd be gone, at best. The app described the job as 'Help wanted. Docks. Late night. Right now. Save people.' It was put up around 2330 and was deleted and deleted at 2332. Two, maybe three, people saw it. "2350," the dock worker looked at the ship carting on crates of various sizes, "ain't this a little early/late?" A man in a black business suit and red skin looked at the dock worker with a sadistic grin, "not that you'll remember, Smitty." The devil man invaded Smitty's mind giving him implicit instructions. Smitty's eyes whited over and nodded. "Getting right on it, boss," Smitty said taking out a walkie talkie, "guys we're gonna have another load to bare." There were a few collective groans heard from the walkie talkie. The devil man went back into his ship.

West Berlin, 1948 A Cold Winter Night The snow fell lightly through the streets and whilst the air was still there was no denying the chill in the air. This was a defiant city but the blockade was biting, and there was a taste of misery floating in the air. Mr. Murk tapped his way through the streets. This was no place for a blind man, for charity was drying up even if not gone. And yet, here was an opportunity. He had money to buy on the black market, and a target in sight. Nevertheless, he felt the cold and his stomach rumbled. One nasty soul had tried to mug him. A blind man. Mr. Murk was a merciful sort by nature, but he had punched the man much harder than he strictly needed too. Counting the steps, clicking his cane, he knocked on the door of Hertzmann Fine Cigars. Not much call for cigars now. Not much coming in and out of Berlin. It had transformed, by necessity, into a smugglers shop. But it still sold cigars, and Mr Murk's nostrils flared at the sweet aroma as he entered. It was warm, too. Bathed in the bleak dimension of the Murk, he wore the look of a tall thin German man complete with well groomed blond hair and strong jaw. Best not his real appearance. He sat down, ordered a pair of cigars, and lit one for himself, waiting for the cold immortal he had seen in his visions to enter. Surely it would not be long now...

January 2, 2018 Ashton and Grenville The advertisement at the music store had been well-presented enough - musicians wanted for a Holiday Concert at Club G4118. They were paying in both cash and exposure, with promises of out-of-town label agents in the audience. That sort of thing was a little outside of Fred and Matt's scope these days, but the money was nice, as was the opportunity to perform before a crowd that didn't involve anybody they knew. They were a little new to this public performance thing, after all. And so on the evening of January 2, 2018, they were making their way to Club G4118, a private club built into a converted home on the edge of Ashton. They were at the extreme edge of the neighborhood here, so far to one side that on the other side of the street was a vacant lot that itself segued into Wharton State Forest. It was a cold evening, with a light coating of snow on the ground, as they surveyed a neighborhood that looked like light suburban commercial development - a strip mall here, a chain restaurant there, and the looming shape of Club G4118 nearby. It looked to have been an older house before its conversion, perhaps one of the 19th century homes that had stood on this spot when Ashton was technically an independent town. Before consolidation had meant the murder of much of the town's history in the name of progress. From somewhere, distant Christmas music played, probably a tune from one of the stores in the stripmall. But Christmas was over now too - this was the last day of their last Christmas holiday.

Susshek System, Former Asshui Worlds System It was one hell of a mission. There had been a few reports about what the Asshui had been fleeing from, some more detailed than others, some more trustworthy. And occasionally, there were news of things happening in their former systems. But so far, all of the were word-of-mouth, and without much evidence going for them. There was ample reason to change that fact, and thus a group of refugees, supporters and a few organizations had decided to send out multiple scouts, to enter the home systems of the fleeing peoples. They had a simple mission; to document what was happening, and to get back with as much information as possible. Finding people that were both trustworthy enough, preferably with their own method of transport and not opposed to doing it wasn’t easy, a large part of the muscle available in the Sharahazad Sector, the hotbed of the crisis, lacked one of the two qualities. One of the few teams that had been sent out was that of Starshot - trusted enough and in possession of a suitable craft - and Bliss, who’d been suggested by one of the sponsors as somebody who was “trustworthy enough”, whatever that meant. So far everything had gone smooth, there hadn’t been a single encounter. But now the Xeno, Starshot’s starship, had entered the system that the two of them had been tasked with scouting. It had been a former industrial hub, not on the scale of some of the ones in known space, but large enough to be economically important. And only a few refugees had managed to make their way out, meaning there was a lot of interest in figuring out just what was going on. And in order to do that, the planet Susshek was probably the right place. Now they just had to get there …

GM ???? ????, Freedom City, New Jersey Wednesday, October 5th, 2016 ???? PM Ace Danger When Ace awoke he found himself in a room of mirrors. His lips were notably dry. Having no memory of how he came to be in what appeared to be a funhouse mirror room, Ace could take comfort in the fact that he seemed to still possess much of his equipment. But, it was hard to say if the internationally renowned man of mystery was traveling a little light when the past few hours were a haze. Arcturus When Arcturus awoke his mouth felt unusually dry. He found himself bereft of memories of the past few hours. Leaving him with absolutely no explanation how he found himself in a seemingly empty corridor. Empty, but not silent the sounds of bells and whistles flooded his head. Accompanied by a loud thud every so often as the sound of an object colliding against a nearby wall reverberated through the area. The opposite of the corridor seemed to open up into different pathways, whereas the path behind Marcus seemed to have no other hallways and simply a single door. Wayward Valerie Cain had some vague notion of what how she found herself in this predicament. After all, it was during her concert that things took a turn for the ugly. She was just about to start her set for the crowd, after warming them up with a plead to donate their old toys to the charity drive funding the concert. That was when the gas hit... But, that was then. Now Wayward found herself playing for an entirely different crowd. A pack of lions encircled her. Armed only with her wits and a low cheaply made microphone, Valerie Cain transitioned to her latest career move as a lion tamer.

Kestevan 79 The Spinal Core, Coalition Victory Station Lor time mark 1482.4 [April 2, 2016 (Terran Calender)] The Voidrunners' work rarely brought them near CoVic Station, as their bounties typically favored the border regions, away from whatever government, organization or individual that was looking for them. But their latest bounty had required them to make the delivery to CoVic Station, so now they had the rare chance to take in the thriving galactic hub that had arisen in the aftermath of the Incursion. Currently, they were making their way into the Spinal Core. The Spinal Core was a section of CoVic Station that had developed as the central market place, filled with business and shops. Its named derived from the fact that it was built along the inside of a hundred-meter-wide shaft that descended deep into the lower levels of the station from the section where most of the embassies and other governmental facilities had been established. With the somewhat hasty construction that had taken place in making parts of CoVic Station habitable, the engineers had not bothered trying to alter the shaft, but had simply set up the artificial gravity generators so that the entire surface of the Spinal Core was covered with two or three story buildings and numerous stalls. Assuming one could find a straight path that went all the way around the interior of the Core, it would have been possible to have starting walking and ending up right back where one had started. While there had been an initial attempt to set out orderly and symmetrical buildings and shops, expansion and additions had quickly sprung up that created twisting and curving avenues. Added to this were numerous small stalls and vendors selling their wares on a mat laid on the ground, making the Spinal Core something of a crowded, fast paced environment where all manner of goods could be found, if one looked hard enough. The Voidrunners had been taking in the sights of the Spinal Core, and taking advantage of the wide array of goods, when the news that a Stellar Khanate warship had emerged from the nearby wormhole and approached the station. As sense of nervousness had come over many in the Core, although they still went about their business as best they could. It lessened somewhat when the news began to spread that apparently the Khanate ship was delivering a diplomatic envoy that was to meet with Ambassador Th'emme and envoys from other intergalactic governments that had embassies aboard the station.

Sol System About .25 AU past Mars Monday November 16, 2015 (Terran Calendar) The great vastness of space stretched out before Maybelle McQueen as she slowed down from having accelerated as fast as the Ring of Aura would take her. Behind her the sun hung at the center of the solar system, but was a fraction of the size it appeared from Earth, and felt much cooler, although the ring protected her from the freezing cold of the void. Out here, so far from the sun, the countless stars that made up the Milky Way seemed almost to twinkle everywhere Maybelle looked. Perhaps someday the ring would be able to take her to some of the closer ones, but for the present, she was learning what she could about its ability to carry her through space…..

GM Train Station Mystery, New Hampshire 2:24 PM Saturday October 11th, 2014 Amddiffynnwr O Lleu Llaw Gyffes has eyes where it is needed. All members of the order understand this simple principle. Perhaps none more so than Cerys Pfer, whose cover at Claremont has gone through it's own series of trials over the years. An agent for the order had been tracking rumors of a lost artifact in a small town in New Hampshire known as Mystery. Until suddenly the order lost all contact with him. As such, it befell on their closest contact in the area Cerys to perform her duty and recover the artifact. Thaelia, princess of Atlantis known to her peers as the boisterous Glamazon, had no stakes in the matter. In fact she had no idea where her friend was going when she snuck off from the Claremont grounds early in the morning. Just that when she saw Cerys leaving the campus grounds early in the morning, Thaelia took it upon herself to tag along. Even after finding out they were in for a six hour train ride with three transfers in between. Lynn Epstein, the veteran shapeshifting fey touched hero known as Grimalkin, had her own reasons for heading to Mystery, New Hampshire. Having purchased a rare book in an online auction, Lynn had found herself required to pick up the book in person. The book being a touted as genuine fey article was of utmost interest to Lynn. Just before the train reached its final destination it shook violently. A woman's panicked yell followed soon after. Those with a keen enough eye would have turned their heads in time to look out the window. In the distance stood a massive mastiff with baleful breath and blazing red eyes. It's wispy dark black fur moving like living shadows. All three of the heroines on board were quick to spot the creature. Before it disappeared without a trace. The train arriving in Mystery shortly thereafter. Mystery is in the shadow of Mystery Mountain, the largest peak in the southern New Hampshire area, situated some distance from a spur of the White Mountains. “The sun sets early in Mystery†the locals say, given the vivid sunsets over the peak of the mountain as its shadow spreads eastward over the town in the early evening.

GM 11:00PM The Fens Freedom City, New Jersey, United States Thursday, January 11th 2018 Moe had drawn a lucky lot in working the closing shift at Joe's. The past forty minutes had been dedicated to cleaning up the inside of the diner essentially by her lonesome. With two trash bags in hand, she made her way to the alley just about ready to finish her shift. That was when she heard the scream. It was high pitched and definitely attention-grabbing. The Drunk Tank was essentially a college bar. And the sole reason students attending Freedom College would travel as a group into the Fens without being part of some sort of alternative school club. The bar was actually a remodeled jail, whose design still leaned heavily on its law enforcement roots. In some way a testament to the feelings of law and order in the Fens. Whatever the case may be on this particular night Captain Anabelle Flint found herself engaged in the middle of a drinking contest with a 200 lb. college football player when she heard the blood-curdling scream.

Earth K-Eldritch-5, Geloyra. The people of this Earth live by a loose set of morals, but there are heroes. And some of them are actually OK people. Oh, they'll save you, but you'll pay them for it somehow. Almost all believe in the reward for a job well done. Almost all believe in leaving a swath of bodies in their wake and taking the 'stuff' from said bodies. They'll return to small villages and towns to spend their rewards on alcohol and companionship. Gorth, a marauder. He wields a giant ax with the rage and fury of a demon. He speaks very little words that don't involve the name of his ax and his clan. Hysti, a chaos witch. A comely maiden who's lot in life is to get everything through her physical wiles or, if that fails, her magic. Barron, a thief. Like his trade implies, he will steal anything that isn't bolted down. And you most likely won't see him do it. Windleaf, a shaman. Turns into owls and trees and humanoid hybrids of those to heal and protect the others. The least bloodthirsty. Oh, she'll kill, no problem, but she goes down the path of least resistance. Who are these people? They call themselves the Squires of Avalon. They've made a name for themselves. Minstrels sing of their deeds far and wide. They're not quite legends, but everyone has at least heard of them on their earth. Right now they are planning the end of an epic adventure that will take them to another dimension to find the evil wizard Evadsrednas! Once they have his head on a pike, they will return to the kingdom of Autumnal and receive their rewards. Earth-Prime. Freedom City. 632PM. Friday. Near Federal Plaza. It's just another cold January day. A week or two ago, the world came to 2018 peacefully. Business has slowed to a crawl in the busiest part of town. But people still believe in commerce, the businesses thrive! But there are other reasons to be here. Mr. Murk has received a premonition that there will be a massive dying around this place at this time. He searches for answers to how and why. As if to answer the immortal's query, a giant red portal opened up. If the ancient neanderthal could see what came out of it, he's see a tall mountain of a man with sun darkened skin carrying a large ax on his shoulder, wearing nary but a loincloth made of a lion. A woman so beautiful that both man and women stop and stare. She's dressed in a revealing robe made of red and purple silks. A short man - a child maybe? - dressed in black leather armor, his hands resting on two of the multiple daggers on his person. And a woman with long sharp ears and a wearily expression, wearing a dress made of withered fallen leaves. "This, this place," the leaf-wearing woman speaks with a troubled ton and a valley accent, "its the right place. The connection to the world is greatly diminished!" "Don't worry, Leafy," the short guy said merrily with a British ganger accent, "we ain't gunna be here that long, luv. An' maybe we'll get some weird shyte that we can take back? Countin on it!" The silken robed woman looked to the gathering crowd, she smiled and giggled before making a snowman out of nowhere and having her and it dance for them. The muscle beast growled harshly, "less talk. Less play. Find Evas- Every-... Gods damned wizard." He looked to the robed woman, "talk, not dance!" The silken robed woman rolled her eyes at the wall of meat. Making the snowman disappear. "excuse me, excuse me," she addressed the crowd, her voice sounded French accented, "where would we find your tower of wizards? We are looking for Evadsrednas Do you know of him?"

GM Iridium Shore Gerivan, Volash Lor time mark 1484.1 [January 2nd (Terran Calendar)] Once again, the Voidrunners had found themselves acting as freelancers. Their recent individual successes let to an offered commission as professional privateers for the Lor. Which was promptly turned down. The news of the refusal led to their latest job offer from the man who taught Roulette everything he knew about surviving in space. But, they were not alone as the Praetorians had sent two envoys along to the meeting. General Almasi of the Stellar Khanate was one Kinan Khan's many "trusted" officers. The former captain of a band of Khanate Pirates, Star Khan conquered his crew and took the pirate under his control. Breaking and bending the man under his iron fist, one of many. But, after the Incursion as Kinan's heirs began squabbling for control of their father's territory, Amalsi's true loyalties revealed themselves. The former general starting his own campaign to take control of what was left of the Khanate. The Zultasian general was in his late 50's, dark indigo colored skin and greying silver hair that ran down to his waist. His left eye was covered by a cybernetic eyepatch that appeared as if were bolted on to his flesh. His right hand was missing, albeit safely protected behind the cover of the bright yellow Zultasian warsuit that he was wearing. The suit itself was heavily scarred with obvious signs that many pieces had been hastily replaced by other discarded armors. Amalsi's reputation for ruthlessness implied that the Khanate revolutionary would not drastically change the empire's culture. However, his deeds with the Coalition and expressed goals for at least some continued relations with the Lor made him sound almost trustworthy. The meeting place was inside a VIP room of the infamous Irridium Shore. Gerivan's finest casino and home to all manner of the worst dregs the Lor had to offer.

The Fen's were known for many things, violence, poverty, crime, and much more. However, one bright spot in an otherwise bleak spot of the city was Joe's Diner. Established shortly after the Fen's became associated with the theater district, it's combination of cheap mostly decent fare attracted an eclectic crowd especially after a show. It was then that the artsy types looking for authentic diner fare mingled with those looking to get something to line their stomach for a fraction of what they'd spend at some of the more well to do establishments. For most of the people in the Fens, Joe's was fine dining and had a steady but sparse set of clientele. Frank Constanzio, know to the regulars as Frankie stood behind the counter with a scowl on his face, his meaty hand resting next to a sign that read, 'I ain't Joe'. Tonight was going to be that kind of night, one of those Broadway shows was letting out and pretty soon they'd be swamped with every manner of patron imaginable. If they didn't count on the business, he'd have closed every theater night as he didn't need the trouble and aggravation that it brought. He wondered how many times he'd have to let people know that they didn't have tofu anything and sighed while flipping a leathery looking rib-eye that would go in their signature steak sandwich. Well, it was as close to a signature dish as this place would have. Really, fast and cheap was the motto and he'd be damned if he was going to up sell, upscale, or whatever else those cooking shows said restaurants needed to do. With a shake of his head, he slapped the semi tough, but flavorful piece of meat onto some bread next to the bed of greasy looking fries and slid the plate across the counter, "Moe! Order up! One roast on toast!" Of course, it was hard to hear him as a FCPB car came blazing down the street sirens blaring as it descended into the chaos that was the fens. When it had finally passed he shouted again, "Roast on toast is up! Moe!"

GM Saturday, December 27th. 6:45 AM Mr. Landis did not mind being up this early. He was, after all, a morning person. He could not, speak for his students, or at least the ones he was taking to Parkside to do some volunteer (read: voluntold) work and clean up at the Park for detention. One of their days at least. There would be more, especially for Corinne and Cheri. The other two were members of the Brohort, the little super team filled with 'bros', Bombast (Robert Johnson) and Gains (Ryan Farrell), in similar velour tracksuits, and had occupied the back seat of the van as it trundled on their way. They were being uncharacteristically quiet. But then, Bombast was not a morning person. "I do hope everything goes smoothly today. We'll worry about lunch in a bit." Said as he was parking the van at spot close to their clean-up section.

Water between Townsville and Magnetic Island. Queensland, Australia 2017 Thursday, February 2nd, 2017 9:00 AM It was a brisk and cool morning, and four Claremont Alumni found themselves leaving Magnetic Island back towards Townsville, Australia. Specifically to the Australian institute of marine science. Having spent the weekend near the vicinity of the Cockle Bay Reef, for Giang Trang's studies. Aside from surfers, fishers, and those preparing for tours the morning was relatively calm. All in all, it was a good start to the day. In the distance, Kimo Keli'i was steadying himself on his surfboard. Freedom College wasn't swimming in money, it took an entire semester of fund raising just for the surf club to save up for this three day trip to Australia. As such no one was looking to waste the opportunity as a swell began to form. Unfortunately, one of the less experienced members of the club fell off his board in between waves and began frantically splashing around worriedly.

GM The Loiterer, Osshrak Commerical Station, Edge of the Orto Nebula The Loiterer was one of the few establishments on OCS that weren’t subject to strict security. Hence, it was where the traders, crewmembers and other assorted folks with shady histories, bounties on their heads, or just a certain sense of adventure, stayed. OCS itself was not particularly notable, a medium size trading hub serving as a refuelling station for a few long routes. And, thanks to its position, a popular destination in some traveller circles. Not that any of them would ever come to a place like the Loiterer, where the weekly maintenance budget could probably buy you two or three glasses at most. It was by far not the worst place Bliss had ever been in, still. The past few days had been rather unspectacular, and there wasn’t really much of a reason to even stay. Or at least there hadn’t been, until a somewhat familiar face entered the building. Large, muscular and grey. Like always, wearing a white helmet. Kresh Melek, one of the Praetorians. Bliss had seen her before. And for a Praetorian to be in a place like this, it had to mean something.

GM Dec 1st, Under a midday sun of surprising warmth and fury... The dusty town of Meddy, Arizona... Was indeed dusty and warm. It was in the low twenties, and the Saguaro of the Sonoran desert bathed in a clear light. Why anyone had tried to set up a settlement here was almost beyond comprehension, but the little town of Meddy, almost deserted, was still some how alive (if on life support). It seemed to live off old native Indians selling trinkets, biker gangs, and its central building "Wildheart", which could not quite decide if it was a gambling den or a strip joint, and had lurched around trying to be both. But the gun runner Flare was not at Wildheart. She was on a dusty road to the north of Meddy, a few miles out, in an open topped car. She had largely recovered from the beating she had received from Spitfire and Bird of Arms A month ago, although still had a plaster across her nose. Despite her red hair, she was deeply tanned, wearing mirrored black glasses, a black crop top (which was extremely conservative when it came to amount of textile, and extremely unconservative when it came to skin shown), and black jeans, barefoot, and listening to some strange jazz-metal fusion on loudspeaker. And despite the beating (and to her vexation), she was here to help Spitfire and Bird of Arms catch the Happy man. Her partner, Snowbird, had agreed to do so. Flare was not sure that was a good thing to do, but on the other hand, she was tight with Snowbird, and wouldn't let her partner down. She just didn't like it. She checked her watch again... How long do I have to wait for those idiots? she sighed to herself.