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Found 33 results

  1. @alderwitch @angrydurf @Exaccus @Tiffany Korta - feel free to make an IC reaction post, and give me a Notice check afterwards.
  2. GM Bayview, Freedom City, USA July 27th, 10:00am Rachel Morgan would be a star employee at almost any other organization, but at ASTRO Labs, she was surrounded by all sorts of super-geniuses and was thus just one of many scientists. She had no personal workshop there, so when she wanted to tinker, she had to work at the one in her home. Which worked fine for her, she had many ideas she had no intention of monetizing. She had been kicked out of a few places thanks to problems with Home Owners Associations and late-night noise, so she had finally given up on attached homes and splurged on a solitary property in Bayview, where she could work in peace. She had the home specially built with sound-proofing in the basement so that she wouldn’t be bothered by any further noise complaints. Now, the most the Home Owners Associations mostly just bothered her about neglecting her lawn, which she promised herself she would fix the robot that mowed it for her soon. The house itself was unassuming, a fairly standard one-story building, built wide with a green tiled roof and with a cherry red electric car sitting out front. On a flag pole sat an American flag, and beneath it a pride flag. There was a porch, painted white, its front partially obscured by grass growing ever higher in front of it. The front door was protected by a screen in front of it, and a charming little welcome mat declared “I can see your underwear”. Yet in the place of a doorbell, there was a strange, HAL-looking piece of machinery. As the group approached, it chirped. “Hello there, I’m Garvey. Welcome to Ms. Morgan’s home. What’s your names, and what’s your reason for visiting?” Those with pop-culture affinities might have noticed it sounded quite a lot like Michael Caine. @Heritage @Electra @Tiffany Korta @Exaccus
  3. 2019 May 17th (Friday). Evening. Cloudy, temps in high 60s/low 70s. [Continued from Upgrading the Supply Chain.] At the doorway to a small private hangar on Jameson Airport, a hole in space appeared. It was a very brief thing, and tightly controlled -- the creator knew a wormhole's varying gravimetric fluctuations could play havoc with the delicate sensors used by the aircraft in the area, so he kept things tight and focused to minimize that. Out of the portal stepped two figured, with a motorcylce between them. One was a young man, who appeared to be the vehicle's owner as he was dressed not unlike a biker. The other appeared to be an older man, middle aged, with long brown hair, in blue overalls and an orange long-sleeved shirt, with a large leather tool belt. As soon as they were through, the portal snapped shut with a soft 'boof' of displaced air. "Here we are, hangar 4P," the older man said as he walked towards the single side door, "home sweet home. Well, for now, at least." He opened the door and entered the darkened structure, beckoning for the younger man to follow.
  4. Freedom City Friday, July 26 5:58 PM Donahue’s Dockside Bar was not exactly the most glamorous of establishments. The outer walls were coated in flaking black paint, the sign that announced the bar’s name was a harsh neon red, and the windows were tinted in such a way that peering inside was at the very least difficult. On the steel front door was a sign which declared in hastily scrawled letters “closed for a private party”. The interior was not much better.The tables were made of old, battered wood, and the chairs had clearly seen better days. The lights were dim, as if to enhance the melancholic mood of anyone who happened to drink there regularly. The only thing really livening things up was a cloth-covered pair of tables, with a bright sign saying “free food - take what you like”. A few pieces sat under cloches, and the smell of hot sauce was strong in the air. Serena paced back and forth in front of the bar, rubbing at her temples. She was dressed in her Corona costume, a grey set of tights with black trunks and a leather jacket over top, along with a pair of welding goggles resting on her forehead. She sighed to herself. “Do you think anyone’s gonna show up?” she asked. Lester Donahue looked up from the glass he was polishing behind the bar. The muscle he had possessed in his teenage years had long ago turned to fat, and now an enormous belly hung in front of him, but he still possessed the orange fur and wet black nose that had come with the transformation that had given him inhuman levels of strength. He frowned at her, his yellow eyes following the superheroine as she moved back and forth. “It’s still two minutes to six, give’em time,” he said. “Besides, at least some of them are gonna show up for the free food alone, always do.” Serena looked over at him. “Well, that’s great but I kinda need superheroes.” Lester shrugged. “Superheroes like free food too. I mean, you’re mooching off of me right now,” he said with a slight smirk as he looked back down at his glass. Serena huffed. “Not mooching, I will pay you back.” Lester waved his hand at her dismissively. “Myaaaah, it’s fine. This is sticking it to Wu, it’s on me since I can’t uh… Well with my back injury and the heart condition…” Serena smiled sympathetically at him. “Thanks, Les.” Lester shrugged again. “Eh, it’s fine. EY! I think that’s the first person now!” he said, gaze drifting towards the window.
  5. Summer 2019 Kingston Aquaria sat in the shadow of the grim and terrible doomforge, squatting on her haunches as she meditated on the gods and their will for humanity. She didn't like it much here in the shadow of Destruction, where the world still moaned softly in the aftermath of the invasion, but she appreciated the chance for some quiet. Hopping past the memorials left behind for the murdered people of this neighborhood, she stopped at the foot of a dried-out fountain and began to sing. It was a song of mourning and loss, for all that would have been but now would never be, and the booming bass echoed from inside her opaque armor through the streets of the mostly-deserted neighborhood. Would there be justice for these people when the stars were right? Perhaps not. It was a terrible thought.
  6. GM December 10th, 2018, 5.25 AM, five minutes to destination Mars Orbit, Solar System, Orion Arm, Milky Way Galaxy, The Universe, inside of a Pegasus-class spaceplane Light-speed travel was great. With the coordinates set, all systems nominal and nothing especially likely to be between the Pegasus and Starshell Castle, there was little to do but wait and consider what the little band was up against. The pilot and three passengers had a lot of skillsets between them; young adventurer, amateur mystic and philanthropist Veronica Danger, anxious AEGIS Eyespy agent Echohead, otherworldly wanderer Forever Boy and materials-mimic Facsimile, all of them brought something unique to the mission. The mission itself was simple enough: get into Starshell Castle, don't get caught, find out and do as much damage as they can before escaping. Of particular interest were the Nightstone, supposed power source of Blackstar and his followers, and anything to suggest how they could move between Starshell and Earth without the Lighthouse satellite detecting them. That last was of especial importance, since the refitting of the satellite and its augmentation with alien technology included some of the best sensory systems the Coalition could provide. If there was a flaw being exploited, some basic incompatibility, or even some wholly-unknown power at work, it was vital information. Outside there was nothing to see, but on the inside of the windows was a projected simulation of the solar system blurring by. If you looked too long, you started to see patterns in the stars.
  7. Shofet

    Homecoming

    Hanover, Freedom City June 22, 1:26 AM It was the dead of night, which only increased Serena’s dread as she approached the abandoned building just off the corner of Raleigh. Despite being far from Kingston, the damage was apparent in the stones. They’d paved over most of it, repaired as much as they could, but you couldn’t hide wounds as deep as these. She looked up at the building, watching it rise many stories in the air, the boarded up windows kindling old memories in her. But it wasn’t what was above that she cared about. It was what was below. She walked up to the glass doors, now covered in graffiti, and placed her palm on the surface. I shouldn’t be here, she thought to herself. Could just turn back now. But she couldn’t, not really. Something told her that she had to be here, had to make sure everything was still the way she left it in 1995, when the police raids came down and broke up Dr. Wu’s little experiments. Why now was she so concerned about it? She had gone 23 years without coming here, and yet now she was unable to get it out of her head that she had to come here. Back to the Lab, back to the Delinquent HQ. Looking down at the door handles, she saw that they had been locked tight with some chains and a padlock. She considered just melting them, but that’d leave too much evidence. She freed the lock release gun from the inside of her leather jacket, and inserted it into the keyhole. Within a moment, it popped up and dropped to the concrete. With that settled, she removed the chains and made her way inside. For a moment, Serena felt her breath catch in her throat. This was, technically, trespassing. She steeled herself. She would just be in and out. Make sure nothing was out of place. Then, the alarm started screeching into the night. Serena cursed loudly, looking around for the source of it as fast as she could. Her eyes settled on a red bell contraption, looking conspicuously new. She gritted her teeth, and charged up a blast with her free hand before firing a beam into the bell and melting it into slag. She took a second to hiss more curses to herself, before moving inside. She had to be even quicker now, before anyone noticed. She stowed her lock gun, and pulled out the flashlight she kept with her. Flicking it on, she drew the beam of light across the room in front of her. It revealed the lobby that helped keep the masquerade that the building was for nothing nefarious, but now it was a shell of its former self. The ground was littered with trash and rubbed, and the walls were covered in graffiti. The front desk was barren, missing the secretary - Ms. Chatham, right? - she remembered so well. An ancient, dust-covered PC lay on the floor, its monitor shattered and its tower pried open and stripped for parts. There was no sign of the mouse or the keyboard. The swivel chair Chatham had sat in was long gone. She paused for a moment. Wouldn’t they have seized the PC for evidence? Her eyes narrowed. Something to check in on later, she thought. She made her way through the lobby, the rubble crunching beneath her boots. She stopped in front of the elevator, fingers running over the up and down buttons and moving to the secret third button that blended in seamlessly with the rest of the panel. She pressed down, but nothing came. Somehow, that relieved her. The power was still off. Still, that meant she had to find another way down. @Exaccus
  8. Deep Space, Lor Border Zone 14th Jyeshtha 2075 "I did not know that Terrans still had a nudity taboo!" A bemused Sitara walked back into the cabin of the Kavaca zipping up her freshly donned jumpsuit, the ships proximity alarm providing a well-timed distraction. The voice of Akazavani spoke as soon as Sitara entered the cabin, she could speak where she wanted in the ship and even had a holographic image for just such occasions. But she was being well behaved today, obviously, she understood Terran behaviour better than Sitara did. "We're picking up a distress call from a Lor Navy ship, the Glorious Exploration of the Unknown."
  9. Five bored rich kids seek thrills. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. The area has 12 shops. Eats, clothing, books, alcohol, divorce lawyer. Cops have the parking lot locked down, but are unable to get the cranked out criminals under control. They're about to call in the big guns, but then you arrive. Or maybe you were there the whole time.
  10. GM There are few things one needs in life. To live, of course. Eat, sleep, repeat. That would get boring. So we find other things to occupy our time. Action, adventure. Though some use this as an excuse to be dreadful. Luckily there are people who will stand up and protect the less fortunate. The days are long and hot in the summer, but nothing is left to chance. Or is it? Immortals hiding from society, treating humanity like a chess game. Or just the causality of the universe. You could ask this group of youth in ski masks and nondescript clothing, but they really don't care. They're using what minimal power they have to ransack a row of businesses in a mini mall. Cops are on the scene. Pedestrians are freaked out. The kids are high on a cocktail ZOOM and MAX. Guaranteed not to kill you or you money back. Suckers.
  11. 2019 May 17th (Friday). Evening. Cloudy, temps in high 60s/low 70s. On Shelley Road, in one of many squat gray buildings that dotted the neighborhood, was the Southside Family Medical Center. It was several blocks from the middle-class safety centered on Freedom College campus or the Jordan International Airport, and primarily served the far too numerous amount of uninsured people of Southside. They received some funding government grants and local charities, but it was not nearly enough to give adequate care to all who came through their doors. And many did come through their doors: college kids who partied too hard and didn't want any records, victims of gang shootings, and perfectly law-abiding citizens stuck in hazardous low-income jobs, whose poverty charged interest on their bodies. There was always some shortage or other of supplies, though most days they managed to make things stretch. Equipment too worn out even for West End's Trinity Hospital often wound up here, juuust functional enough to not be complete scrap. For the past few days, a "freelance technician" had been coming by to see about keeping their gear in functional order. He'd simply appeared on day a few weeks ago, in dingy overalls and a large tool belt, working at several such clinics throughout the area. The first few clinics were initially skeptical of this "Patch Menderson," but a lack of references or papers (and obviously fake name) were far from unusual in these parts, and his skills and oddly charming nature spoke for themselves. And so it was that on a May evening, as he left the struggling medical center, the path of "Patch Menderson" -- in reality Herr Doktor Viktor Archeville, working incognito and trying a new method of helping others -- crossed with one of Southside's more unusual defenders...
  12. OOC thread for this thread. Get your space on! @Thevshi @Supercape @Exaccus @RocketLord
  13. 16th Feb, 2019 Freedom City Coast GM Summer was not here, but the cool chill of winter was waning. The skies were less sombre, the trees less spartan. And, best of all, 'twas the weekend. A weekend to go driving one's motorcycle along the seafront. However cautiously or legally one was driving (or not) there was always one idiot on the roads. That was urban life for you. But Fascimile, driving his motorcycle most cautiously and legally (or not) was witness, this very day, this very afternoon to a most unusual type of idiot on the roads. Even by the extraordinarily high standards of Freedom City. Whipping past him, at a speed well beyong that which was legal, safe, or even sane, was another motorbike. And sat upon this motorbike was a lunatic dressed in chainmail armour, sword by his side, and holding a lance. "AN-AR-CHY! AN-AR-CHY!" he yelled as he terrorised pedestrians and motorists by the beach and by the buildings on the other side.
  14. For this. Obviously, I won't be killing Dominic. But whether justice is served? Well that's up to you all. We'll see how it goes.
  15. In the past year, three racing champions had been murdered by, of all things, an archer. The shots were, in a word, impossible. The female sailor racer had been killed at sea, with nothing around for miles. The male dogsled racer was found when his dogs dragged him and his sled back into town. There’d been a killing blizzard that had shut down travel to the miles wide region for over a week, and the locals swore up and down nobody else had set out on the trail. The third had been a female marathoner, struck down in the American Southwest while training. In the desert. With several witnesses who swore nobody else was around for miles. September 28, 2018. Freedom City. Just outside Ashton and Grenville. Horizon Festival Main Stage. 9 AM. There would be over a hundred different races held, in varying skill rankings. Anyone with a driver’s license and an automobile that could pass an inspection could enter at the lowest level. The highest, however, was reserved for those who had proven their superiority over the competition. At stake? Honor, pride, and a trainload of cash. The Horizon Festival had come to Freedom City, and it was a madhouse. It was a street rally racing event primarily, but you wouldn’t know it from the stages set up what seemed like all over town. There was going to be three dozen bands playing at one time or another the entire weekend. Vendors had set up in sight of what seemed like every stage. Mechanics Alley was also open to onlookers, even if only the pro cars had slots booked in it. Because oh, yes indeed. The world’s finest street rally racers had followed the Festival to Freedom. Dominic Cortez was the grudgingly acknowledged best street rally racer in the world. He wasn’t worried about anything today. He’d drive in the kickoff race, but only for a lap. Any real racing, for him, wouldn’t be until tomorrow afternoon. As the world’s #1, he was automatically entered into the S class, highest at the Festival. The people who were worried were his agent and mechanic, Darius Greer and sister Sofia. He only trusted blood to work on his wheels. After the last murder, racing champions had gone into seclusion across almost all of racing. They only poked their heads out for events, and even then under astonishingly heavy security. Dominic Cortez was the sole exception. Leaning against the door of his car, he watched the MC blather on. The man was charismatic and effective, Dom would give him that, but honestly? Dom just wanted to get on the track already.
  16. GM December 10th, 2018, 4.54 AM Star Island Space Control Center, Atlantic Ocean, USA All around the heroes, the Space Control Center buzzed with activity. People rushing by in uniforms of every shade, shouts, the rattle and roar of machinery, the feel of the floor and air vibrating with the sheer noise passing through them. Above was a clear, chill Atlantic sky, a few stars twinkling despite the blazing lights of the offshore aerospace facility. Over the base's cacophony, a voice cut through. "...And that's where we're at. Thanks to the cooperation of these two, we have a lock on Blackstar's most likely location by tracking the signature of his Shadow Bands. Faster-than-light approach in a Pegasus should let you get close to the base without raising the alarm, and if our readings and the information from his followers is accurate, his castle should be minimally-staffed." To his credit, USAF Col. Randall Austin didn't look enviously at the sleek navy blue spaceplane taxiing into the launch sling. The flickering decade and change had thickened the man a shade around the waistline, and the grey in his hair fair outnumbered the thickets of coarse black, but the last hour and a half of explaining a lot of information clearly and concisely proved his mind was as sharp as ever. "If you can apprehend Blackstar, that would be great. But if you learn how he and his followers are transporting to Earth without the Lighthouse detecting them, that's far more important. Now, are there any questions before takeoff?" Behind his glasses, Randall beamed hopefully.
  17. OOC thread for this thread. Our heroes from No Better Time to Start take the fight to Blackstar. @Thevshi @Supercape @Exaccus @RocketLord
  18. GM September 1st, 2018, 4.28PM A.S.T.R.O. Labs The day was winding down, the light was starting to wane, and the people working at one of the premier technological application centers on Earth were starting to think fondly of home. By now the horrors of the Terminus Invasion had already begun to fade from all but the hardest-hit. But the fact remained: while there was a sense that the Terminus might not make such a move again, there were other dangers in the omniverse. So far the day had gone famously. The dimensional conduit prototype, code-named DR(pronounced, naturally, 'door') was in full working order, the odd-looking man from AEGIS hadn't gotten in the way while 'checking for mental leaks', and the representative for the prestigious Danger Foundation had been nothing but helpful with the finer details of avoiding dangerous interaction with the forces she unaccountably referred to as 'magic'. The support staff had been on top of their game today, especially thanks to a newcomer with an ease around the strange materials they worked with that confounded even veterans of the Labs. Regardless, there was only a little clearing up to do and everyone would be off the clock. So it was with a certain regret that one of the walls exploded inward from a shower of dark energy, followed by two odd-looking men in Atom Family Adventure-like uniforms of black, silver and purple with armbands that radiated power. "Hello!" the finned one said merrily "Please leave this to us, Terresi!" "I'm Electrum Eagle. No prey escapes me." The winged one snarled, knocking the room off its feet with a wave of his gauntleted hand, emitting a punishing shockwave that made the nerves scream. "And I'm Platinum Porpoise! Take a seat!" A snap of his webbed fingers and a boyish smile heralded a great seething wave of bluish-purple energy that started flashing across the room, pinning everyone in its path with coils of otherworldly darkness! However, even as they headed for the great arch of the DR, they were unaware that someone had followed them ever since they first materialized in Freedom City...
  19. OOC for this thread. @RocketLord Forever Boy debuts, alongside @Supercape's Echohead, @Exaccus's Facsimile and @Thevshi's Veronica Danger. For the stats of your opponents from Blackstar's Blackguard, consider them to be PL12 versions of this sheet by Troll, with the amendment the powers come from a Hard-To-Lose Device: Electrum Eagle can fly under his own power, and Platinum Porpoise is Immune to Suffocation by all descriptors.
  20. Eh'Qui 9 Time and Date unknown There were many signs that Facsimile wasn't on Earth anymore, the grass he was lying in was to green, the sky was a little too blue and looking down at him was several small horse-faced aliens. They looked down at him with a mix of concern and curiosity, after all as far as he knew he'd just fallen from the sky in front of them. The chatted excitedly to each other, apparently trying to work out if he was a danger, in cute little voices that sounded a little like horse whinnies.
  21. GM It had been quite an adventure and had ended with Penny Coin (also known as the Puzzle Pixie) finding a peice for her puzzle box. This peice being an enchanted bone. When inserted into the mysterious box of infinite puzzles... Well, lots of strange stuff with dimensions and magic and this and that happened. In a blaze of light. And then... Well, Facsimile woke up in a lovely silk bed with a start. His dreams had been most peculiar and best left for the man himself to describe. But peculiar they had been. As lovely as the silk bed was, the most peculiar thing is that he woke up in a graveyard. The air was cool and dry, and the smell of rain and earth lingered faintly. Up above was a moon. A very big moon, twice the size of anything he had ever seen. To his left, he heard loud snoring. Penny Coin was asleep, snoring loudly, clutching her pillow and mumbling about the Elf King and whistling pipes.
  22. There is nothing quite like a good book. A good story, with well developed characters and an enticing premise. You learn to love and relate to the protagonist and learn to hate and despise the villain. Yes, there isn't anything quite like a good book and many people can easily find themselves lost in the world of the pages. Sometimes though a good book is too hard to put down... Calling @Zeitgeist Blue and @Exaccus
  23. Hey guys! Finally have things ready to go for this adventure and hoping you guys are ready as well. Do forgive me for making error here and there. I mainly play 3E and this is the 1st 2E I've run so bare with me. The 1st bit of story is going to be just Facsimile until you get into the thick of it. Shouldn't take too long to get there so don't worry about having to wait to play Blue. I look forward to running this for you guys. @Zeitgeist Blue and @Exaccus
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