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Lynn and Gretchen's Apartment. Tuesday, March 14th, 2017. 1:05 am It had been a long night for the Shrike; Grimalkin's website got an anonymous tip about a human trafficking operation in Greenbank, but it didn't sound like it would be too dangerous. Lynn and Gretchen had been working on inventory with a little informal help from their new roomie Moira when the tip came in; thinking the situation would be quickly resolved, Gretch offered to take the op solo, though Lynn insisted she call her the minute things got too dicey. Gretch found the operation all right; it just happened to be run by a den of Greek witches who loved throwing vipers at their enemies, and hired ex-Spetsnaz 'eyegougers' for security. The young barista repeatedly tried to call Lynn, but the witches somehow blocked magical communication, which left the ringwielder fighting for her life for the better part of an hour in a freightyard. But all those hours playing first person shooters and training with Lynn really payed off; by the time the cops finally showed up, Gretch had personally subdued seven witches and nine Russian bad guys. The FCPD was suitably impressed, and the officers thanked her once they got her statement. Not ready to head home just yet, Shrike grabbed a coffee and slowly savored it on a rooftop, her feet dangling over the edge. Part of her was glad she wasn't able to reach Lynn; it was nice to know that if the chips were down and her back against the wall, she, Gretchen McDaniels, could kick serious ass. Now flying back towards home and the comforting arms of her lover, Gretch gently probed to see if Lynn was still awake; if she didn't get an immediate response, it usually meant the changeling was passed out somewhere already. If she wasn't in bed, Gretch used the Ring of Power to carefully pick her up and float her into the bedroom and tuck her in. The invisble crimefighter landed in the small lightwell patio between the two apartments and opened the door, stepping into the dining room. There was a soft flickering glow coming from the living room, which probably meant Lynn had fallen asleep watching home movies on her beloved PictureBox from Otherworld. Not wanting to wake her girlfriend, Gretch floated silently into the room to an unexpected sight: Lynn and Moira, sleeping on the sofa together under a blanket. All she could do was float and stare at the two of them for several minutes. At length, she finally crossed her arms and spoke. "Well, then."

So, then. Moira Morley (alias the superheroic Scion) found herself on a wide beach. It stretched to her front and back seemingly endlessly. To her left was a tropical jungle. To her right was the ocean. How did she get here? Gods (perhaps literally) only knew. Where was she? Again, gods only knew. At least it was a cloudless day, and the sun was bright. The only thing preventing her from relaxing and maybe going for a swim was the guy about ten feet down the beach from her. He was approaching quickly, and (one more time, because why not) gods only knew who he was or what he wanted.

Well. We both know what this is for. Still, ask me anything. I do make mistakes, after all. Soul of Flame

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!)

Ah, summer. Moira loved the warmth of the sun. Apollo's gaze upon her was delightful. But for every good, thing that she had, a little rain must fall. Not rain in the physical since. A giant divine-mechanical bull was giving her the chase. Not that she was running from it or it was running from her. They collided head on in the West End. Eris and Hephaestus had stepped up their antagony. This being the most blatant of it. As they clashed, it was clear more than brute strength was needed. "Would any of you great gods want to lend a hand? Apollo, your heat? Ares, you great fury? Dionysus, your zeal? Aphrodite, your..." -Alright, one crazy trip comin up!- It was Dionysus answering the call. Something sparked in her. A dark explosion, disintegrating the bull, but that wasn't the last of it. She felt a bit overloaded like there was something extra on it...

GM No one knew who Melissa Milani. No one cared. In her mind she was a quiet little dweeb from a poor family. The eldest of twelve siblings. When she got out of high school, she distanced herself from her family. Took the first bus to the east coast to live it up. But that was not to be.On the way to freedom, the bus crashed killing all of the passengers. Except one. Melissa rose from the ashes, but was different. She was bigger, stronger, more important. From that day on she took the name Princess. She found that she could turn back into her old useless self if no one was watching. She used this to do whatever she wanted. For all the world knew, Melissa Milani was dead. Princess was the one they had to deal with. A few years later, she had made her way to her destination. Well, kind of. This was no Atlantic City, but it did have some awesome people there. Princess could get or take help. Floating through a string of robberies, she teamed up with every pretty boy or girl that would appease her. On the other side of the tracks, Denise Weaver grew up pampered getting everything she wanted. 'Daddy I want a pony,' she'd say and poof, a pony she'd have. 'Mommy I want dance lessons,' poof, dance lessons! Though later on, she opened her mouth and stuck her foot in it. She wanted superpowers. And, unfortunately, her parents knew exactly where to get them. The DNAscent Project. And they had enough money to go through with it. This was the final straw in Denise's sanity. She had the ability to fly and shoot energy with the power of her mind. She didn't have to ask, she could take what she wanted! And that she did. Though the novelty did wear off after a while, she could take whatever she wanted, but she had no one to share it with. Princess and Denise had their eye on the same prize one day. They didn't know each other, but they saw they were kind of fighting on the same side. So after they made their get away, they shared more than just the money they'd stolen. They shared a few fun laughs, some drinks, each other. They were kind of inseparable. Princess was doing it because Denise was hot. Denise was doing it because she really thought she'd found a friend and partner in crime. Through out the past couple of months they'd team up exclusively. Which brings us to now. They were both kind of hungry and there was this place called 'The Southern Queen' they could eat and knock over. "The food's good," Denise said flipping through a manual as she floated along lackadaisically. "I don't care," Princess said holding her stomach, "just point the way before my I drop. Princess needs food badly!" Denise grinned, "if it's really good we might come up some." The two rolled into the front door of 'The Southern Queen', waiting to be seated.

GM February 6th, Monday, 11.57AM, 2017 Kokinos' Greek Restaurant, West End, Freedom City The bell on the door chimed pleasantly as Moira walked in, the music cutting through the cacophany of conversation bubbling throughout the bright and crowded room, alerting the burly, bald and mustached Michel Kokinos behind the tall counter. Pausing briefly to smile in welcome, Michel marched out onto the floor to a corner table where two men in suits were chatting. One was bursting with confidence and intelligence, a handsome and bearded devil with mocking green eyes. The other had leonine hair, they were lean with hungry grey eyes that darted longingly between the enormous meal spread before him and those at the other occupied tables. Settling the plates of steaming fish and piled greens before what looked like a military couple off-duty, Michel stomped up to Moira, nodding in recognition as he said briskly "G'noon, Moira. What'll it be today, enh? Old Sean doing well?"

GM Disclaimer: this thread will have politically incorrect white 'nationalist' villains that get punched in the face. No one writing here agrees with the very few things these idiots will be spouting. DJ Eclectic's concert was in need of a venue and Moira loved the idea of live music. Especially when it helped the local talent out! So posters were plastered all over the city. Every pole had at least one. Friday, June 16th. 9PM. Morley's pub. West End. Free admission." Below that was in a smaller font was the address. Blow that in the same sized font was Two Drink Minimum. White Knight II (Aidan Miller) looked at the poster with a sigh, letting out some curse word when he saw the poster with DJ Eclectic's face on it. "Like why do they even let people like her even work here?" His bodyguard, Big Girl (Mary Forth), and his yes man, Southern Charm (George Kent), nodded in agreement. "I don't know about you two," Aidan said scratching his chin, "but maybe we should make an appearance." George beamed, "like our constituents did with the park play. We could reach a lot of people." Mary grinned and nodded silently. "So, all for one and one for all then," Aidan checked his watch, "we have about four hours. Let's go plan out speech." Later That Evening, 15 minutes before the show DJ Eclectic's crew was setting up the equipment, and there was quite a crowd coming to see her! Moira was tending bar. DJ Eclectic was tending to set up, rehearsing while doing a sound check. Spitfire was conversing with folks in the crowd, being part of the crowd himself.

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.

@EviscerusNox and @Raveled The only thing I didn't get answered is where do you want this to be? I suggest in the park. But if you have other ideas. I'm gonna start the whole shebang as soon as I get that answered. The New White Knights (inspired by the old White Knight) rush Miras' concert. The ringleader is all "this is racist against white people!" and is at first doing nothing but spouting stupid ideology, but it turns physical when his 'bodyguards' have to protect him. That's where Spitfire and Miras (and maybe Scion) jump in to take the three bozos down. Simple! Suggestions and corrections if you have em!

OOC thread for this thread. Scion versus the Hades Hitsquad.

Demonic rats and wererats and their demonic wererat king have somehow got a foothold in this realm. Why? They know. We don't. But this is taking place at Morley's. And Moira will not have rats of any kind invading, much less her own pub. @EviscerusNox and @Heritage have spots if they wish. Anyone else interested?

8PM, Febuary 25th, 2017. Morley's. The scene for a fundraiser for the the medical costs of some sick police officers. It was hard to imagine Amir al-Misri attending a more down at heels event like this, at random. Yet, here he was. Without an invite, but with a fat checkbook. Of course he had reached out to the hospital and simply paid for all of the related bills. It wasn't announced either. Sure he could afford it, but frankly he liked being human sometimes. Even if, at about a hour in, and he showing his ability to drink alcohol with minimal effects. Hell he bet them they wouldn't been able to get a blood alcohol reading on the breathalyzer at the end of the night. It would seem that for some aspects of halaal the super powered billionaire with movie star looks did not keep (yes he stated a good bit of his lot in life was luck). Pork was right out though. And at this moment he was laughing loudly, at a joke told by one Detective Kirkendahl, a blond man in an suit that was a bit too large, as if he had lose weight recently. The clap on the detective's back was a bit, meaty swat, though without any super-strength behind it. "... he... he was... caught by his... Ah... on the fence? Ahhhhh-hahahahahahahaha!" He pounded on the table, managing to catch the pint glass before it fell over, as his shoulder shoot with mirth.

February 7, 2017 12:04 am A half dozen men in suits and ties waited for their contact. The chief had told them not to wait too long, the streets of Freedom City were not a place to be caught loitering with suspicious objects. Just as the crew was about to leave a crack appeared in the air, a few reached for guns as a young lady in a black leather jacket stepped out. “Is this it?” she asked, pointing at a small case one man was holding. The man in charge nodded, and held out the small instrument case. “You know I don’t like being double crossed.” “Eh, the boss man no like for double cross neither Sistah, it is what he say it is. You just keep that Punk out the boss man’s hair and we no get problems.” “Fine then.” The woman said taking the instrument case, she stepped back in the portal and vanished. February 17, 2017 3:00 pm Millennium Mall in Freedom City was alive and busy. Hundreds of people shopped and ate as they went about their daily lives. It was a fairly normal Friday. Adults spent their money and kids spent their parents’ money. It was all in all a normal day. One of the disadvantages of having so many heroes of all shapes, sizes, ages, and colors was that it was fairly easy for people to assume someone was a hero. The young girl who had on a grass skirt and a bright floral top could very easily be mistaken for some unknown hero. She walked into the center of the mall and stood on one of the many benches. She quickly examined the koa wood ukulele and strummed a chord. The deep sound turned heads, and she smiled. “ALOHA!” The girl shouted as she began to play an island tune. The ukulele seemed to shimmer as she effortlessly drew in a crowd. “I’m Laka, goddess of the hula. Goddess of pleasure. The newest goddess of Freedom City, and your goddess commands you to dance.” The crowd immediately complied, waving their arms in a painfully stereotypical "hula" many seemed to be enjoying themselves until men in Tiki masks and floral shirts began to empty their pockets and purses.