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IC is here: https://www.freedomplaybypost.com/topic/10841-to-serve-and-protect-ic/ Please do not post in the IC thread until I give the go-ahead. In the meantime, both of you please make a Notice check and a Will save before you make your first IC post. If you intend to be sneaky with your approach, please also make a Stealth check.

GM John Smith's most recent job had run well past sundown, and the closest bus had still dropped him ten blocks away from his shabby Downtown motel. Five blocks into his hike, he spotted a yellow Chevy Camaro 5G with its driver-side door hanging open. It was parked on the right side of the street, facing him head-on, a couple blocks away. The passenger door was adjacent to the sidewalk, but closed. He thought he could see someone in the passenger seat, but the driver seat was empty. There was some kind of dark lump sitting on the street behind the open driver door. Twenty stories above Smith, Arrowhawk perched atop the crumbling faux-Gothic stone facade of a half-empty tower. Even with half the lights burned out on this street, her eagle-eyes could read the license plate, confirming that the Camaro belonged to Mike Donaghy, the Scarpia family associate she'd been stalking for the last few weeks. He extorted protection money from several lower-tier businesses in the worse parts of Downtown, and she'd planned to intercept him along his usual pick-up route. One of those businesses was a convenience store a few blocks away. She'd doubled back on the most likely route when he didn't show. From above, she had a much more clear view of the situation. It was obvious to her that the lump in the street behind the car door was a person, halfway into the fetal position but unmoving.

GM Feb 3rd, 2018 On the start of a long dark night And cold, too. The woman was running down a bad street in a bad part of town. Wolverton. It bled drugs, it bled guns, it bled blood. And it looked like it would bleed this woman too. She was dressed in bad clothes, a little torn. She was running barefoot, and left a bloody footprint. All this, Arrowhawk saw in the dark streets. And behind her, a car, black like the night sky, headlights on and blazing full beam, a determined man at the wheel, his eyes fixed on the woman, his car gaining fast. He didn't look intent on running her down. probably. He did look intent on catching her...

April 16th. It was a cool spring night, no rain, or much of anything else. Even in the Fens That was not much of a comfort to the guy on the ground. Bald, and looking like less a junkie hood, and more a professional in crime, he was still scrambling back, crablike, from the smaller, shadow shrouded, form that was walking towards him. Acting very unprofessional. The white of the hockey mask he wore was a stark from the grays and black he wore over the rest of himself. As he walked, he let the piece of rebar drag and rasp against the brick wall. "Don't reach for the gun. It wont stop me, and then I will be upset." His voice was level, in that deep monotone he had, but dull, dispassionate. His gait didn't stop, didn't change as he approached the man. "I want information and you have it. You will give it to me." There wasn't a hint of threat or menace, perhaps some implied from his efforts, but that was in. Then the piece of rebar was moved to aim at the hood, the point right between the man's eyes. "You... you're sick man! Sick! I've dealt with you masks before, this isn't how it is supposed to go!" The criminal lashed out with words, even as he cowered, and stared at the rebar. "I'm not sick Lawrence Hardy. I haven't done anything. You're the one who is afraid, it's your imaginings that are running wild and filling the empty spaces in your head. I've done nothing." Came that dry reasoning from behind the hockey mask. "I can't help you! You f***ing psycho! I'm sorry! Just leave me alone!" The masked man man seemed to stiffen a bit, "Lawrence, don't lie to me. You're not sorry." And then he lifted the rebar to strike the man. "Not yet."

OOC for this thread So I'm tossing us right into a firefight. Both Foreshadow and Arrowhawk can recognize the arm blasters being made out of computronium from a distance. Streetwise DC20 DC25 DC30 Gather Information DC20

GM Bill Sweeney's Home Cowal Place, Dunoon, Scotland, UK Saturday, November, 7th, 2015 10:20 PM The sound of violence cut through what should have been an otherwise sleepy night in the seaside town of Dunoon. Sprawled directly in front of an exquisite Baronial style home. Were half a dozen men, attempting to fend off an attack by at least two dozen assailants. Te men sieging were armed with firearms, unlike the estate's knife wielding defenders. However, any illusion that they had paid a visit to the local Dunoon gun shop could quickly shattered by a cursory inspection of their weapons. The material shone brightly even in the dead of night and was adorned upon each man's arm as if some sort of hand cannon. Furthermore, rather than bullets it was instead crimson colored lasers bursting forth towards the homestead. The skirmish attracted the attention of the local populace. Doing everything to get out of the way of the crossfire. Everyone knew who lived in that house. And what the consequence of such an open declaration of war meant for anyone unfortunate to get caught in the aftermath.

Greenbank Freedom City, New Jersey Tuesday November 3, 2015, 10:23 PM local time Halloween had come and gone, but Freedom City was still clinging to warm weather, with the temperature having reached the mid-60's during the sunny day. And though the sun had set hours ago, the temperature had so far only dropped about ten degrees. Although night had fallen, there was still plenty of activity in Greenbank, as many of the warehouses continued to operate around the clock, and several of the establishments that had built up in the area to cater to workers getting off shift were open as well. But for every few warehouses or other business that were in operation, there was one that was out of business and sitting empty. Or at least mostly empty. Along the northern edge of Greenbank near the West End sat what appeared to be an empty warehouse. Taking up about a quarter of a block (with an enclosed shipping yard covering another quarter), the building was three stories tall and had once handled a variety of international exports. But now many of the windows were boarded up; the signs were dull and faded; and scattered about the shipping yard were weeds that were growing up through the concrete. But such empty buildings did not always stay that way, and currently there was word that a group of weapons smugglers were using the building's basement to store illegal arms shipments. It was these rumors that had brought three individual costumed crime fighters out into this part of Freedom City tonight....

December 25, 2014 A ripple of tension had traced through the world's hero community, even those with few direct connections or who actively avoided such interactions with their peers. Something big was coming, perhaps already there, and the Freedom League was calling in everyone, every able body, to meet it. Details were scares and answers were scarcer but the apprehension of a soldier the night before shipping out hung over them all the same. That silent tension was broken as Asli Sadik's phone vibrated with a message notification, marked urgent with an attached video file. The compression had sacrificed some of the image quality but the hood, cloak and mask of Seven, a relatively recent addition to the League reputed to be a witch of considerable power, was immediately recognizable. The background was an indistinct blur but the urgency in her voice came through clearly enough. "Greetings, hero. My apologies for the intrusion but the need is great..." * * * * * "...great-whatever owed my great-whatever a favour and I'm calling in the chip," the porcine young man who'd identified himself as a descendant of Zhu Bajie told Daniel Lee as the grainy video played on the engineer's laptop screen. He snorted absently in a manner that wrinkled the entirety of his flat nose and hitched up his belt with both hands. "I ain't really got time to explain everything but I figure if I tell you there's adventure and demons to punch involved, won't take much convincing anyway..." * * * * * "...obviously the west bank of the Nile is a little out of the way for you," admitted Elwyn Eldrich, hockey jersey wearing nephew of the Master Mage, waving about a rune covered staff for emphasis, "but we're stretched a little thin here, frankly. Believe me, if I could leave the dread dimensions myself right now-- well, you know how they get around the holidays, I'm sure." As the video played the shadows in the corner of Jeremiah Cornwell's dorm room deepened unnaturally. "Now, can't keep the shadow portal I'm making for you open long..." * * * * * "...realize this is-- It's not how I wanted to do this," the stern young woman with Asgardian armor and a bow strapped to her back frowned, crossing and uncrossing her arms uncomfortably as John Fraser watched on his aging laptop's monitor. "But my mother always said that in a real emergency, you were the one I should contract. I'm sure you have a lot of questions - I would, too - but right now the world needs Arrowhawk." The video file ended and the gently spinning whirlpool of pitch black and midnight purple that had appeared a few meters away beckoned.

Alright, here we go! You can each decide at which e-mail/phone number/other means of contact your character received the video file. Give me a post of your character getting ready then step through that portal!

A DC 20 Notice check will reveal to the heroes on the surface that this stuff on the side of the prison

Posted Today, 12:09 AM March 15, 2014 Blackstone Prison 8 PM "Congratulations, Number 01337, you're going out 24 hours early!" The thump of the Blackguard's truncheon against his glassed cell door caught Breaker's attention. A trio of guards, flanking a convict Flynt hadn't seen before, were standing outside his cell with keys and transfer equipment in hand. "Number 03314 here managed to get herself out of the psych ward overnight, so we're putting here in here and moving you upstairs a day early. You'll like it up there, Number 1, just make sure you don't go outside till your parole clears. It's colder than Hell out there." The new prisoner, a woman with a close-cropped prison haircut, met Flynt's eyes with a truly murderous glare (the kind he'd gotten a lot in and out of prison); the swollen-up bruises on one side of her face a testament to whatever brawl had gotten her back in gen-pop overnight. She couldn't talk, not with the bite guard in place, but she did not look happy to be taking his spot - their power nullification gloves about all they had in common. --- "Fascinating, simply fascinating." Down in the reactor room, Richard Pasaphan, architect of Thailand's planned Royal Prison for Extraordinary Crime, was taking furious notes as Warden Drummer spoke. He'd been friendly enough upon his introduction to Crimson Tiger, the legacy heroine who was the most prominent Thai hero active in Freedom City, but for the most part had spent all his time soaking in the tour of the most famous super-prison in the world. "All right, I think we're ready to go upstairs," said Drummer as he led them out towards the elevator, he and Pasaphan talking a mile a minute about the logistics of super-prisoner containment. Crimson Tiger had gotten the full tour as well, but it was obvious she was just part of the local color here. --- Precognition was a funny thing, as were psychic powers in general - what else could have led both Foreshadow and Mindsteel to the same windswept island on the same cold, gloomy evening? Of course, for heroes like Arrowhawk, it wasn't psychic powers that steered you along but pure instinct...

Freedom College, Freedom City, USA Friday, January 13th, 2012 The last class of the day had let out, at least as far as Carson was concerned. And he was glad; the first week back after winter break was always hard. The students never wanted to focus. Luckily, he'd managed to get them involved in a few simple exercises and focus that nervous energy into something other than spitballs and love notes. "Just another day in the office..." "Mister Keefe, sir?" "Hm? Oh, yes, uh...Jessica, wasn't it? What can I help you with?" "Well, I just wanted to give you this book. It's got some short skits I'd like to try doing in class this semester." "Hm. I'll take a look and see what I can work in. Let me see....That's odd. I've never heard of this author before." "You wouldn't have, not here." "What? Why...oh, my head." The contact chemical that coated the paperback took hold, and Carson started to bonelessly collapse. "Jessica" calmly caught him in deceptively small arms, before pulling out an odd-looking metal and plastic disc that she slapped on the middle of the teacher's chest, before gently laying him on the ground and gathering his papers up. The disc started to beep faster and faster, but she still had enough time to extract his keys. "I'll make sure these get put away, Sir. It's the least I can do..." And with a flash of light and a sound like tearing silk, Carson Finbar Keefe was gone from Earth Prime.

GM Friday, February 10th 10:52 PM Riverside was, as usual, bustling, especially along 4th Avenue. The place where City Center met Riverside, it was where the industrial forests of downtown began to give way to the townhouses and nightclubs of the bohemian district. If you had a tendency to buy what they said in Lonely Planet, it was where the business suit was traded for evening wear. The streets were thronged tonight - the weekend had begun hours ago, the work week was well and truly dead, and many were hitting the town to celebrate. Two individuals, however, were most definitely not there with pleasure in mind. Arrowhawk and Midnight were patrolling the neighborhood, moving through on their respective routes. As others moved through the main streets and sidewalks, they kept to the back alleys, side roads, and rooftops. They had passed through the neighborhood on the same night on many occasions, their patrol routes often keeping one from noticing the other. Who knew if they would meet tonight...

Arrowhawk and Midnight deal with Madame Marvelous's latest mayhem through stealth, guile, and cunning. Also, beating people up.

The Rise of Evil!Doktor Archeville begins!

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening mid-to-high 70s, clear/scattered clouds. 2 days after the full moon. (10 months after an ill-fated housecall, 3 1/2 weeks after the Interceptors' Wedding, 2 weeks after Claremont's Graduation; 1 month before the Gorgon announcement) Earlier in the day, Arrowhawk paid a visit to the Scarab and they compared notes on the strange series of murders and disappearances that had been plaguing Freedom City for the past nine months. Seeking additional help, they headed to the Hanover home of their ally, Doktor Viktor Archeville. But they were not the only ones coming to see Archeville: like Scrooge, the super-scientist was to be visited by three beings this evening. Wander, one of ArcheTech's newest employees, was also coming by. With her was a trophy from a recent battle which she wished to have examined; to know how best to store it, she needed to know if it was safe to be around! (She'd chosen discretion due to not wanting the details of Young Freedom's exploits getting out just yet.) None of them expected who -- or what -- they would wind up meeting that evening. But what was that fabled science-hero up to? At the moment, he was alone in his home, his fiance Fulcrum off training wit the Interceptors, giving him time to do some surgical experimentation. He was carving ham for a sandwich. "The most perfect ham-and-cheese sandwich ever! Now, which mustard to use?" The Doktor rummaged through his tesseract refrigerator (like his home, it was bigger on the inside!), selecting from the dozen or so small yellow and brown jars.

Midtown; Sunday 28th November The Millenium Mall was always quiet on a Sunday morning. As the blond- scruffy man sauntered across the main plaza, no one even noticed his passing, but for one grim man with greying hair and a walking stick. The blond man smiled through the glare, even as John Fraser turned his irritance at the early hours upon some poor unsuspecting barista. Casually, the blond man walked into a side door through into a small janitor's closet. The janitor inside put down his coffee mug, but could barely open his lips to protest the sudden intrusion before his head had been slammed clean through the folding steel table into unconsciousness. Siobhan Drake browsed through the small occult books section of the bookstore, frowning. They were all either too expensive, outrageously misinformed, or both. While flicking through a slender volume on the lycanthropic 'myth', she felt an odd throbbing at the base of her skull, her hands shaking of their own accord. Something big's happening. Putting down the book, she briskly left the store and headed towards the female bathrooms. John Fraser frowned as he sipped the vile, cheap coffee. Better than nothing, I suppose. Still garbage, though. Then the smell hit his keen sense. Brimstone cloyed up his nostrils and made him sneeze. Glancing around, it looked like nobody else had really picked up on it. Fortunately, (or unfortunately) he had much keener senses than the average joe on the street. And as such, he quickly picked up his cane and headed off to the parking garage to get his motorcycle and costume. The mystic blast blew a small chunk of wall out from where the maintenance closet once was. Unnaturally red and green flames burst forth in a cloud of acrid grey smoke, the explosion sounding less like a bang and more like the bark of a hundred angry Rottweilers. The few shoppers present in the shop fled as the blond haired man, Keter, strode calmly and unharmed forth from the flames, soaked in blood across his torso and on his arms up to his elbows. At his heels pranced three dog-liked creatures, hair- and skin-less, each with teeth like daggers and claws like swords. Every one had four eyes a deeper, more putrid green than the saliva dripping from their jaws, sizzling as it hit the floor underneath them and melted the cheap tiling. Keter reached down and petted one absently, fingers running through the scaly ridges on the back of its head where its ears should be. Snarling, it lunged to bite at his hand, only to have its head blown clean from its shoulders in a shower of ichor, hellfire spouting from Keter's splayed fingers. "Bad dog," he growled in a low tone. With casual disinterest, he watched the woman in the black trenchcoat glide down towards him from the upper level. Her translucent white wings faded into nothingness as she dismissed the spell, wand levelled at Keter's head. "Simon," she said simply, expression neutral in spite of her blazingly white eyes. "I see you've not changed much." Keter scowled at her, but held a hand out to keep his two remaining hellhounds from leaping at her. "Siobhan, you know I prefer my real name," he said, annoyance not even present in his tone. "I've come to ask for your help. We could achieve so much." He looked pleadingly at her. "I know our methods don't agree, but perhaps I could try and convince you." "No, Simon," Equinox said wearily, shaking her head. "Last time, we both nearly died. Please, just give up. I'm not helping you. We can talk about it, but I will never do things your way. It costs too much." She flicked her wrist, a white aura of force appearing around her like a balloon. "Come with me. Please." Keter shook his head, nostrils flared. "I don't think you understand me, Siobhan. I was offering you out of courtesy. Bring her in, boys." His posture and tone didn't even change as the two hounds leapt at Equinox, slavering and roaring. Without a second thought, she'd pointed at one with the wand, a brief blast of air at tornado velocities meeting it headlong and casting it back to the floor. But the second leapt into her mystic wards, spewing acid from its maw. Sweat beaded on the witch's forehead as she braced her shields, trying to keep that clinging acid off of her skin. Summoning up a burst of wind once more, she tossed it to the ground and pushed up off the ground, white wings forming once more to hold her off the ground and away from the hounds' snarling leaps. But Keter merely smirked and did the same. Only, instead of white force, his wings were blazing red hellfire, and constantly shifting in shape and size. "Go hunt some prey," he said to his hellhounds, pointing at a couple of fleeing cashiers from the food court. They hungrily bounded off towards them. "No!" cried Equinox, going to fly after them. But a gout of hellfire hit her square in the chest, smashing her down to the floor, helpless as the hellspawned animals leapt at the young workers. Keter still was hardly reacting, just watching the imminent slaughter. One of the dogs leapt, maw opening wide with fangs about to close on a soft, unresisting skull. The arrow exploded into it, blowing a huge chunk of black ichor out of the creature's neck and tearing its lower jaw off. The carcass crashed into the ground, dissolving into black goo, before fading into nothing. Even as it did so, the second hound had turned to look at the fate of its companion, only to receive another arrow straight into its open jaws. The headless body fell still as the tall man dressed all in black glided down to the floor on a cape shaped like hawk's wings. "Not very good demons," growled Arrowhawk, another arrow already nocked and pointed at Keter. Blazing red eyes glared from underneath a hood. And finally, Keter laughed. "Excellent show," he applauded, raising two hand wreathed in hellfire high. "Now, kindly roll over and die while I conduct my business." Arrowhawk let the arrow fly... into a sudden cloud of hellfire appearing in the air. Even as the arrow passed harmlessly through nothingness, he felt a burst of agony in his back as something incredibly strong and on fire slammed into it. But the distraction was enough for Equinox to leap to her feet, summoning a cushion of air to slow the impact and bring Arrowhawk safely down to the floor. She then flicked her wand in a tight circle, and pointed it at Keter's face. A brief, but blindingly bright, flash of flame appeared and then immediately dissipated, leaving him reeling and unable to see. "I see your skills have grown," he snarled, raising both hands up above his head. "But I've got more power than you idiots can comprehend." And he slammed his hands downwards to the ground, hellfire flooding up from nowhere to crash across the entire level. The destruction cleared, leaving the mall an absolute mess. Shops were wrecked, their windows exploded into millions of shards, their merchandise torched. The floor was scorched, riddled with acid burns and reduced to muddy craters at certain points. And Keter was just... gone. Equinox lowered her shields and fell to her knees. "That was close," she said in a strained voice, weary from having had to make so strong a shield in so short a time. She didn't hear Arrowhawk drop from where he'd managed to grapple up to on the ceiling. "Who was that psycho?" he asked in a low voice. "You seemed to know him, from what I heard." Equinox looked up at a harsh, weathered face. "One of the mistakes from my teenage years. And he's apparently got much more dangerous than he used to be. That kind of infernal magic isn't exactly easy to do," she mused. "And he's still convinced I've got enough magical juice to get him what he wants." The man's expression hadn't changed once. "And do you?" he asked. Equinox just shook her head and accepted the hand he'd just outstretched, pulling her up to her feet. "I'm Equinox, by the way," she said, more out of politeness than anything else. "Arrowhawk," came the reply. "Thanks for stopping me hitting the wall there. It might have hurt some." Equinox just looked at him incredulously. Might? Of all the arrogant, pig-headed...! "Yeah," she said slowly. "And thanks for stopping those hellhounds. I... don't know if I could have lived with myself for failing to save those poor people." Arrowhawk just nodded. "You'd have learned to. Anyway, I have to be off." "But aren't you going to help clean up?" protested Equinox, a note of indignation entering her voice. "Not my style, kid." And she just watched as the older man walked off, a barely perceptible limp in his steps.

Blackstone Prison is what allows the citizens of Freedom City to sleep at night. They know that all of the super villains Freedom City seems to attract are safely locked up inside the formidable walls of Blackstone. That security blanket was shattered as a large scale break out attempt larger than any since the Terminus Invasion began mere moments ago. The Blackguards were fighting valiantly, but it was only a matter of time before they were overrun. Prisoners were already making it to the surface, there only saving grace was that the least powerful of the villains were kept closest to the surface. The longer the prisoners went uncontained, the more likely the guards were to be overrun by Freedom's most wanted.

The skies above Freedom roiled with dark grey clouds, distant thunder rumbling ominously. As the city's residents listened below, the booming grew louder and more distinct, and flashes of light appeared just above the stormy curtain. Suddenly, a sleek form burst through the clouds, the roar of engines and the ozone smell of heavy laser fire filtering down to the city streets. Long and narrow, with broad fins jutting from the rear at ninety degree angles, the gleaming vessel was soon joined by a second craft, made of darker materials and bristling with weapons. The pursuing spaceship fired, white-blue light arcing out from multiple points to strike the smaller ship. It shuddered, electricity surging across its surface, then began to plummet with dangerous speed. The ground shook as it crash landed just outside of Parkside, near Lantern Hill. It’s attack followed, hovering above its victim.

Every now and then people wake up with that feeling in their stomach that the day is going to suck. They’ve got no reason for that belief. As far as they know, this is just another ordinary day, and most of the time it really is just a normal day. Other times however... you wish you had stayed in bed. Today will fall into the latter category. The early morning passes just like any other day. People get up, say good bye to their families and head off to work or to school or run some errands. But then, right before 11 o’clock things turned real sour, real fast. Monsters were lose in the streets, seemingly appearing out of no where. Heedless of the danger, the heroes sprang into action as the first explosion broke the early morning silence. The scene before you was one of wanton destruction. It was a rampage, nothing but the after effects of brutal savagery. And judging from the roars and shockwaves, there was still something out there hell bent on destroying everything it came across. Smoke was already billowing high into the sky, and you could taste the ash in the air.

Arming Up April 5th John Fraser paced back and forth across his dingry room, still limping but not as badly as a week ago. He was no doctor, but he knew enough to tell he'd never walk quite right again. Serves me right, he though as he turned to the assortment of equipment scattered across his bed. I need to clean the slate a little. Rein myself in, measure things up like I used to. And I need to cover my self-inflicted loss of mobility. He picked up a pair of trousers. They were closer-fitting than his previous loose costume, designed to support his legs, not provide complete freedom of movement. The shins, knees and thighs had thin armour plates of a strong carbon compound, light and tough, and he'd sewn strips of Kevlar into the chinks in the armour. He pulled them on over the trousers he'd been wearing already, taking a few experimental steps. Definitely tighter, but... needs more. Around his injured right thigh, he pulled tight the straps he'd affixed to the armour. He winced as his wound shot waves of pain through his thigh. John remembered the first night in costume. As a younger man he'd been able to bound across rooftops effortlessly. He'd been young, in peak condition. But he'd also been scarily inexperienced. Falling through a skylight into a meeting of gangsters, he'd thought his ankle had blown out upon the poor landing. A rookie mistake. Luckily, they'd all been too shocked to react quick enough to gun him down... Next... torso armour. John tutted. Until now, he'd eschewed traditional armour in favour of a kevlar vest and his own mobility. But he'd robbed himself of the latter. Not as much as I robbed it from those two people. The armour was constructed like scale mail, the plates overlapping to allow some flexibility without sacrificing protection. It slid on, forming a jet black shield for his torso and upper arms. In stark contrast to the armour, a white hawk logo was painted across the front. He'd chosen it as a symbol of fear. Hawks were swift, vicious, deadly. John had wanted to be that, to be the hawk the common criminal's rabbit. One man could do little, but a concept... A white hawk flying in the darkness of night. Not the one causing darkness, he reflected, strapping on his belt, laden with miscellaneous small tools us used. Binoculars and the like. The gloves to the costume were shy of elbow length, covering the fingertips and inner arms to prevent bowstring-related injury but leaving the backs free to move. Darkness was falling outside his window, so he locked the door and pushed open the window. He pulled on the cape. It was wide, and greyer than the rest of the outfit. Contrary to belief, grey faded into the night better than jet black. It was reinforced and billowed around, making him a more difficult target. Logically, a cape was impractical. It got caught in bowstrings, restricted access to the quiver... but you adapted, because it was useful. A hawk-shaped silhouette dropping into an alleyway was a dramatic way to scare someone. He turned to the window, placing his cowl on his head and his quiver over his shoulder. "Time for that clean slate," growled Arrowhawk, towering in his armour and wing-like cape. He dived from John Fraser's window and into the night.

Player's Name: Ecalsneerg Power Level: 14/15 (200/229PP) Trade-Offs: -5 Damage for +5 Attack, -2 Toughness for +2 Defense Unspent PP: 29 In Brief: Modern Age Batman wielding Bronze Age Green Arrow's bow. Alternate Identities: John Aaron Fraser Identity: Secret Birthplace: Aberdeen, Scotland Occupation: Vigilante, lab assistant Affiliations: Ex-Knight of Freedom, the Sherwoods of Nottingham Family: No known surviving relatives Description: Age: 40 (DoB: 25th August 1970) Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Scot Height: 6'0'' Weight: 190lbs Eyes: Grey Hair: Black Arrowhawk is an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered. His armour is made of several interlocking, flexible black plates, a huge black cape sweeping down from his black hood to near his feet. The cape is shaped oddly, lending Arrowhawk a bird wing silhouette when he is gliding of leaping from rooftops. Clipped to the back of his armour and concealed behind the cape is his longbow and quiver, slightly off center so as to easily allow the cape to be swept to one side. Glowering eyes glare red from the domino mask he wears in the shadows beneath his hood, and his chest is emblazoned with a stylized white bird in flight... a hawk. Moving like a jungle cat, Arrowhawk is swift and graceful in spite of his size, barely making a sound as he prowls and stalks. However, when he does so, he noticeably limps after the muscles in his upper right leg were irreparably damaged. His voice is harsh and gruff, heightened by a Scottish growl which he purposefully exaggerates when in costume. In his civilian identity, however, he is a mere shadow of that man. John Fraser, while still a big man, is soft spoken, covered in scars from "sporting injuries in his youth", and walks with a metal cane. His messy black hair and near-perpetual stubble are speckled with silver, and his face is weathered and lined. Arrowhawk is forty years old and has been fighting crime for half of his life. Without his armour, bow, and predatory demeanour, every second of that is clearly visible. Power Descriptions: Each of Arrowhawk's arrows is a sleek, expertly modeled metal weapon, with a variety of heads (each model discernible from others by the unique fletching). Apart from his standard pointed and blunt ones, he has slashing ones with sharp fins extending out from the sides, explosives with a bulky black arrowhead, and the strange steel grey devices he fits to them for his more exotic arsenal. When firing enough arrows in quick succession, he can temporarily turn the air black from sheer ammunition expenditure, his arms and legs moving in a near blur as he adjusts his stance and aim while firing. History: John Fraser was long ago a promising Biochemistry student at the University of Aberdeen. A quirt, thoughtful young man, he was praised by his teachers as being an enthusiastic student, quick to learn. But this was a bad time for the city, a small mafia operation deciding to capitalise on the financial difficulties faced by many on campus, operating as loan sharks. John's flatmates, Brendan Jarvis and Steve Cooper were deep in debt. On the 19th of May 1991, when John stumbled in drunk, he was woken from his semi-conscious slumber by gunshots. Rushing through to find his friends lying dead and two loan sharks standing over them, John Fraser died with them. As the men tried to leave without causing a scene, their message made, he rushed them and shattered a chair over on of their heads. Thrown against a wall, he was unconscious during the resultant brawl as several other students tried to stop the killers. Julia Dawson and Blake Davies died as heroes, but died none the less. And John kept studying... in martial arts, infiltration and archery. He swore he would never be like those mob hitmen, and thus modelled himself on the great heroes like Midnight, and Sherwood. Three years later, on the 19th of May, a mafia safehouse was fought and arrested by a man "dressed as a huge black bird, firing arrows left, right and centre." John struggled on, barely holding together a normal life. Far from the scientific genius he'd been hailed at, he got a poor degree, and now worked menial laboratory jobs simply to fund his crimefighting. Eventually, his parents passed away, both of them disappointed in how their son had gone from prodigy to obsessed man in a cape. And, with nothing left to keep in a small city like Aberdeen, he left the fighting of the last remnants of organised crime to a few trusted copycats. Glasgow. Edinburgh. Newcastle. Manchester. For a few short months, London. Cardiff. Training in Nottingham with the new Sherwood. The legend of the Arrowhawk spread across the United Kingdom, and for so short a time, it was easy. While he still no longer had a life worth telling as John Fraser, as Arrowhawk... criminals cowered in terror, villains cursed at the sound of his name and people looked to the rooftops for his aid. And yet, it was all too easy. So, at the age of thirty-eight, Arrowhawk left the UK to the new generation of superheroes, and disappeared. Some said he'd retired. Some said someone had finally got lucky, and killed him. But the truth wasn't anything like that. Freedom City, despite being the global hub of superhuman activity, still had a thriving Mob, supplemented by strange technology and a few choice metahuman helpers. And if it killed him, Arrowhawk was going to tear it down and burn the ashes. But things never go according to plan, and soon he found himself on a superteam calling themselves the Knights of Freedom. He tore them apart, finally crossing the line he swore never to cross and killing two people while annihilating the headquarters of Malice, a prominent supervillain he'd established a rivalry with. Letting Malice take the fall for the explosion and the deaths, and leaving Arrowhawk's leg crippled, and now with his only "friends" torn apart by personality conflicts and the knowledge of what he'd done, Arrowhawk faded away again. And met a woman, Vivian Kriger, who he eventually became close to. But she turned out to be the superheroine Valkyrie, and was slain by a mysterious adversary. Fooled by Doktor Archeville into believing it was SHADOW's doing, he hit Europe like a raging meteor, tearing apart the continent to search for a culprit which wasn't there. Receiving an email from the Scarab concerning the death of Hellbound, his fellow ex-Knight, Arrowhawk returned to Freedom City. And this time, he's going to find out who killed the only woman he'd been close to in decades, stop the villain, and redeem himself in his own eyes, if not anyone else's. Personality & Motivation: Arrowhawk has the arrogance, confidence and sheer knowledge of how good he is at what he does to confront super powered opponents with nothing more than a bow and some body armour. Unfortunately, he is unable to turn this off in normal conversation, and thus comes across as a huge jerk. He also has a slight superiority complex, believing himself "better" in many ways compared to metahumans, simply because everything he does is "simple" skill that anyone can learn, often forgetting that it took him two decades to learn his current skill set, and he has never had to learn how to control and manipulate superpowers effectively. In spite of all this, to those who likes and respects, he is intensely loyal and protective, trying to disguise his concern and care for them behind his usual mask of sarcasm and aggression. If someone threatened one whom he loved, he would face down even Omega or Heru-Ra to defend them, being willing to ignore even negative traits he'd be the first to condemn. He also possesses an iron-clad sense of justice and code of ethics, being willing to fight as dirty as it takes... so long as it wouldn't kill, mortally wound or involve him using a firearm. In essence, he is best described as a scowling, angry force of nature, whether that's for the purposes of fighting his enemies, protecting his friends or defending the innocent from harm. Profoundly affected by the death of his friends long ago in that dorm room, even after all this time Arrowhawk keeps going, every crime he sees, every failure in his past and every possibly success he could achieve just adding to the burden he feels he carries to keep going and help save people. At this stage, the idea of not fighting for what he thinks is right is just alien to him, even the smallest criminal is a threat he feels he has to stop, every gun a potential murder tool and any every day a new battle. He keeps going because it is who he is. Powers & Tactics: Arrowhawk has no superpowers, nor any particular talent for archery, and thus it has taken him two decades of hard work and sheer bloody-mindedness to claw his way up to being one of history's most deadly archers. Through sheer skill and knowledge, he has advanced both the art and technology of archery to a level where he can shoot moving targets while leaping off rooftops, while dodging gunfire. For specialised uses, he keeps a variety of trick arrows at hand, the most prominent of which being single-direction explosives to tackle heavily armoured targets, electromagnetic pulse emitters to destroy technology with ease, and smoke arrows to create distractions through which to move unnoticed. Physically, he is in such peak condition as to be faster, stronger and considerably tougher than most younger men, even taking into account his wounded leg. He also possesses a steel trap mind, possessing just enough talent in science to construct his arrows and work as a somewhat skilled lab technician, but excelling in such fields as tactics, infiltration and rapidly accumulating a near-encyclopedic knowledge of the street level crime in any city he goes to. His most notable skill besides his ability to threaten and cajole opponents is a near-paranoid hyper awareness, making it incredibly difficult to sneak up on him without some form of metahuman or super-science assistance. Complications: Enemy (Captain Knieval, Malice): Multiple run-ins with these two villains have led to a deep-set grudge against them. Arrowhawk will drop anything to pursue them if he possibly can. Hatred/Obsession (organised crime): The mob killing several students when he was at university led to John Fraser becoming the Arrowhawk. They've also consistently tried to kill him over his crime-fighting career. Thus, his hatred of them makes it difficult for him to trust someone who has been too heavily involved with the mob in the past, regardless of whether they still retain that connection. The obsession has also distracted him from other things like a love life, friends, family, work and in general anything beyond being Arrowhawk. Honour (won't use guns): Firearms sicken Arrowhawk. He refuses to sink to the level of criminals by using one, and condemns openly those who use them, even if they are his allies. This has become a larger problem since his move to America, where the police carry guns, a fact he is not used to and believes to be wrong. Arrowhawk is psychologically incapable of using a gun despite knowing how to, and would be unable to use one to defend himself even if he had no other choice. Rivalry (Bowman): In past trips to Freedom City, Arrowhawk established a friendly rivalry with the Bowman, and each frequently seek to out-do the other in archery and close combat skills. However, despite this deeply competitive attitude, both deeply respect and trust the other. Secret (identity): John Fraser is characterised differently from Arrowhawk by being a lot more quiet and submissive than the aggressive, forceful vigilante. To allow himself privacy and a measure of a social life (should he ever use that option...), he keeps the two identities apart and doesn't wear any of his costume on his person besides a bullet-proof vest. Arrowhawk is also at risk at running out of arrows, but this should rarely happen except in protracted battles where he can expend large numbers of them, or in remote areas where he is unable to replenish his supplies. If his bowstring gets wet, such as when he gets submerged without it being covered with a cape or quiver, it will also become unusable. Abilities 8+10+10+6+6+4 = 44pp Str: 18 (+4) Dex: 20 (+5) Con: 20 (+5) Int: 16 (+3) Wis: 16 (+3) Cha: 14 (+2) Combat 22+20 = 42pp Initiative +9 Attack +11 base, +15 ranged, +17 bows Grapple +15 Defence +14 (+10 Base Defence, +4 Dodge Focus), +5 Flat-footed Knockback: -5 (-4 flat-footed, -3 w/o Arrowhawk Armour, -2 flat-footed w/o vest) Saves 5+7+6=18pp Toughness +10/+8 (+5 Con, +3 Armour, +2 Defensive Roll) Fort +10 (+5 Con, +5) Reflex +12 (+5 Dex, +7) Will +9 (+3 Wis, +6) Skills 168r = 42pp Acrobatics 5 (+10) Bluff 8 (+10) Climb 11 (+15, Skill Mastery) Craft [Mechanical] 12 (+15, Skill Mastery) Drive 10 (+15, Skill Mastery) Gather Information 13 (+15) Intimidate 18 (+20, Skill Mastery) Investigate 2 (+5) Knowledge [Life Sciences] 7 (+10) Knowledge [Physical Sciences] 7 (+10) Knowledge [streetwise] 12 (+15, Skill Mastery) Knowledge [Tactics] 12 (+15) Notice 17 (+20, Skill Mastery) Search 7 (+10) Sense Motive 12 (+15, Skill Mastery) Stealth 15 (+20, Skill Mastery) Feats 38pp Accurate Attack Attack Focus (Ranged) 4 Attack Specialization (Bows) 1 Defensive Roll 1 (+2 Toughness) Dodge Focus 4 Equipment 7 Evasion Fearsome Presence 4 Improved Aim Improved Critical (Bows) 1 Improved Initiative 1 Jack of All Trades Luck 2 Master Plan 2 Power Attack Precise Shot Quick Draw Skill Mastery 2 (Climb, Craft [Mechanical], Drive, Knowledge [streetwise], Notice, Sense Motive, Stealth) Startle Ultimate Aim Powers: 2+15 = 17pp Archery Supremacy 1 (Probability Control, Flaws: Limited 2 [Archery]) [2pp] Device 5 (Bow and trick arrows, 25 points, Easy to Lose) [15pp] Devices: Bow & Trick Arrows Array 10 (20pp powers; PFs: 5 alternate Powers) BE: Blast 3 (PFs: Improved Critical, Improved Range [75' increment], Mighty 4, Progression [750' maximum range], Variable Descriptor [bludgeoning/piercing/slashing]) [14PP] (standard arrows) AP: Blast 3 (Extras: Autofire [7]; Flaws: Action - Full; PFs: Improved Critical, Improved Range [75' increment], Mighty 4, Progression [750' maximum range], Variable Descriptor [bludgeoning/piercing/slashing]) [18PP] (rapid arrows) AP: Blast 3 (Extras: Penetrating 7; PFs: Improved Critical, Improved Range [75' increment], Mighty 4, Progression [750' maximum range]) [20PP] (explosive arrows) AP: Blast 3 (Extras: Targetted Area - Shapeable [7], Selective Attack [7], Flaws: Action - Full, Distracting; PFs: Improved Range [75' increment], Mighty 4, Progression [750' maximum range]) [20PP] (rain of arrows) AP: Nullify 7 (technology descriptor, all at once, Extras: Duration - Sustained, Independent, Flaws: Action- Full, Drawbacks: Reduced Range [5 increments]) [20PP] (EMP arrows) AP: Obscure 7 (visual, 500' radius; Extras: Independent) [14pp] (smoke arrows) Drawbacks: [-1] Disability (Bad leg, uncommon, minor, -1pp) DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 19 Toughness (staged) Damage Staff Touch DC 21 Toughness (staged) Damage Standard Arrow Range DC 22 Toughness (staged) Damage, critical range 18-20 Rapid Arrow Range DC 22 Toughness (staged) Damage, Autofire, critical range 18-20 Explosive Arrow Range DC 22 Toughness (staged) Damage, Penetrating 7, critical range 18-20 Rain of Arrows Range DC 22 Toughness (staged) Damage, Shapeable Area 7 EMP Arrows Range DC 17 Will Nullify Technological, Independent, critical range 19-20 Costs: Abilities (44) + Combat (42) + Saves (18) + Skills (42) + Feats (38) + Powers (17) - Drawbacks (01) = Total Cost (200/229) Power Points