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Liberty Park Sunday, December 11, 2016 9:23 PM Somedays, Cannonade wondered what it had to be like to work in Animal Control in this town. It had been one of the weirdest "track downs" he'd ever had. Sometimes, on patrol, he'd run into a cop who wanted to flag him down over something weird, usually related to the Crusaders. Other times, Commander Grayston of AEGIS might track him down, wanting to send him off to God knows where to handle some new interesting wrinkle in geopolitics. This time, however, he'd touched down in the Fens to get some coffee at the Dunkin Donuts, only to be flagged down by a woman with blue hair and the uniform of an Animal Control officer. "It was a jogger," she'd said. "She'd been running through the park, said she was passing by Poet's Grove when they appeared. Dogs. Three of them, black as night. One of them did a real number on her arm, but she was carrying pepper spray and managed to drive them off." "And if you're talking to me, I'm guessing they can't actually be dogs." "Given this town, they could be, but... we checked where she was attacked. No sign of spoor, paw prints, droppings, anything. And her description... it may have been dark and she may have been scared, but they didn't resemble any dog we know. Maybe Mastiffs, at an outside stretch, but... Mastiffs aren't usually that dark in coloration. And then there was the other thing..." "What other thing?" "She said they came running out from behind a hedge. But that part of Poet's Grove is completely clear cut." And so, Cannonade ventured off into a dark stretch of an already dark park, feeling the shadows loom. The air felt crisp and cool, and he could smell pine on the air. No dog, though, wet or otherwise. But he had a feeling that, given this town, that wasn't going to hold for long.

OOC for this. Everything there is pretty much googleable, I don't expect any of them not to know the terms. To keep things simple I'm using Fomhóraigh for the mythical versions and Formorians for those from the book.

1:43 PM 18/11/2016 Silberman's Books, West End Freedom City An old 1974 Dodge Monaco sedan pulled up in the alley beside the bookstore - the door requiring a few kicks before it popped open. A young man in a pageboy cap and worn out old pea coat clambered out, stretching; Morgan eyeballing the door and sighing. Stupid prudence. If he'd blown half the jack from the Baron job on getting his car's body tuned up along with the engine... Meh. Svartalves never liked extras. He reached into the back and took out a duffel bag, along with a notepad; checking the listed work order. Package number three, basic alarm array. He referred to it as the Blinky Light Package - mostly since unless the buyer picked up additions, it was basically a bright blinky light if anyone used magic in their vicinity. On the positive side, it was nice and cheap, and usually helped get people past the whole 'magic in business' hump. That being said, honestly? He'd have done this one for free. Scuttlebutt said Silberman's was a good place, and run by a lady who was firmly on the side of the angels, if you could trust the local kids. Still, guy's gotta eat, right? ...though that didn't necessarily stop him from adding a few, er, 'weekly special discounts' onto the bill. Even if the weekly special had only been declared about, oh, say, five minutes into their phone call. Of course he'd planned those specials all along, it was just a coincidence they came up then. And nobody had any proof otherwise. The young man jogged up the front stoop and knocked on the door. Giving a bit of that old-school no-entry-unless-invited thing.

BEHOLD! MAGIC AND MISCHIEF!

Toraigh, Republic of Eire 20th December 2016 GM Post Tomas O Floinin hating this island a little spur of rock sitting of the coast of Ireland, but it contained a treasure worth more than it's weight in gold so he'd spent months searching. None of the obvious historical or mythic places held the object, so he'd spent month growing to hate the island more as he scowled every millimetre of the place. Finally after all that time he'd found the object so in the middle of the night he ended up digging for the item, in the dark it wasn't that impressive an object, just a circular lump of iron around the size of the dustbin lid. As the light of the torch shone over it he could admire the fine Celtic carvings on it's iron surface, impressive it this object was as old as the myths suggested, more so for the planks of wood that it sat on that look like they'd been felled only yesterday. It was the Eochair Balor ar, Balor's Key and if the stories were true it was could hold a place so no one could enter through any magical means. It was ironic then that the weather, as always on this accused island, meant he wouldn't be able to leave until after the holidays. But still what harm would it be to wait a few more weeks?

Fred's Diner. Corner of 49th and 6th. Freedom City, USA. 11:29 PM Freedom City's cowls were a rarefied bunch. They knew each other and how they worked; and when one disappeared, it was noticeable. Not enough to cause a massive stir - some heroes just came and went - but Cerys Pefr knew Morgan Crowe a bit better than most. He might be appalled why, mind, or approving - either-or. As it stands; he'd dropped off the grid about four years ago, shortly after a quiet wedding to a young lady. Scuttlebutt said he'd disappeared from the very limousine carrying them to an airport for a honeymoon, no less. Neither'd arrived at their destination. He'd picked a fine time to disappear, though - Parkhurst had been up to it's eyeballs in their own problems, and by the time it became obvious he was missing, they couldn't find hide nor hair of him or her. Just another unsolved mystery for Freedom City. Until now. Rumor had it that a familiar cowl and coat had been working the Waterfront and the Fens again, with occasional appearances in other trouble spots across the city. That Crowe Security Consulting had reopened - citing a brief closure for renovations. That a face had appeared in Parkhurst at least once, studying tomes of scrying and tracking. That a lot of questions had been asked - usually at fist or knifepoint - to various henchmen concerning one Victoria Knight-Crowe. Or Crowe-Knight. And, in other news - one Morgan Crowe was apparently now a semi-regular patron downtown at Fred's Diner. Best milkshakes and burgers in town. He sat at a corner booth, looking over a folder of security information - using a knife to ferry fries one by one to his waiting maw.

August 19, 2016. Freedom City. The Waterfront. The Abandoned Warehouse. Yes, That One. 11:00 PM. It had taken a great deal of research and effort to get to this point. Over a month of work, which was quite a bit for the supergenius heroine known as Terrifica. Still, now she knew exactly what needed to be done. She had posted a need for superheroic assistance on Capeslist, and two had bitten, filling the Thief and Grifter archetypes (phrased in a way that would decidedly not set off red flags across law enforcement and superheroic systems, of course). That wasn’t all they could do, naturally, but it was what she was looking for. Time had run out and she could wait no longer for responses to the Hitter and Hacker requests. However, she had sent a message to Miracle Girl, who would suffice for the former and Terrifica herself would quite suffice for the latter. Now it was a simply matter of time until everyone arrived. Terrifica had arranged a table and five chairs for the occasion, just in case a Hacker decided to show up at the last minute. The last batch of criminals to use this place were currently in jail. And of course, Terrifica herself waited in the shadows. She was no fool. She would only reveal herself when everyone had arrived. Any second now, someone should be arriving.

This is the OOC. Feel free to ask me quite literally anything about the thread, especially if it doesn't make sense. I've likely missed something. As the proposal stated, Terrifica posted on Superhero Craigslist looking for some help. Got two, sent a message to Miracle Girl to lend a hand. No more, no less.

Player's Name: Quinn Character's Name: Crow Power Level: 11/12 (180/184 PP) Trade-Offs: Defense +2 / Toughness -2; Melee: Attack -2 / Damage +2; Ranged: Attack +2 / Damage -2; Talon Barrage and Talon Wire: Attack +4 / Damage -4 Unspent PP: 4 In Brief: A son of the Morrigan, child of the Irish gods, of the same blood borne by Cuchulainn. Without any superpowers. Heaven help him. Alternate Identities: Morgan Crowe Identity: Secret Birthplace: Boston, USA. Occupation: College student, magical security specialist (Crowe Security Consulting) Affiliations: Irish Pantheon (technically demigod), various insundri minor gods and spirits (troubleshooter), Claremont Institute (student), The Irregulars (founding member), Parkhurst Denizens (member). Family: Patrick Crowe - Red Hand (father), The Morrigan (mother). Age: 22 (DoB: Oct. 31, 1994) Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 5'10" Weight: 180 lbs (approx.) Eyes: Gold Hair: Black Description: Morgan Crowe is, in a word, imposing. Not in the physical height or weight sense, but there always seems to be a gravity around him, an intimidating mean that he almost unconsciously projects. He's every inch Black Irish, raven haired, with angular features that look almost avian on first glance (fine-boned, thin, slightly fragile; vaguely reminiscent of a raptor); his looks aren't what you'd call handsome, but they are striking. And while he is young, his muscles are considerably well-developed for a young man, hard-packed slabs that don't have the same "pretty" look a bodybuilder would have, but honed by years of physical labour. His clothing is generally fairly comfortable, tracksuits and the like when he's exercising, when out and about he tends to wear jeans and one of his favorite hoodies. As for accessories, he actually has a pair of (as he puts it, extremely manly) jewelry that he wears now and again - a shark-tooth necklace that was probably (keyword, probably) purchased at some cheap souvenir store, and a silver ring with Celtic engravings. When "on the job" as Crow, he takes to wearing a costume he's cobbled together from clothes he's made himself, and with his father: a pair of black jeans with Celtic emblems up the legs in white, a black hoodie with the same across the collar of the hood and the emblem of a crow in flight on the chest (very observant individuals may spot a slight bulge underneath that, where he has taken to wearing a bulletproof shirt), a new pair of black gloves with steel plates across the back of the hand (the plates having a trio of runes on them apiece), black steel-soled boots that thud ominously on the ground...and the coat. A great black coat, the collar usually turned up, reaching down to his ankles; gifted to him grudgingly by his mother. Covering the back, up the arms, and on the shoulders are numerous ancient and arcane runes, that smoke and burn whenever he calls upon them; as well as burn marks in the odd location, and a spot on the hem that looks slightly ragged - as if clawed. Combined with the darkened face once he pulls up his hood, and the eyeless, solid black-iron mask that now covers the top half of his face; he looks every inch a dangerous bird of prey. History: Several years ago, during the time when Centurion was running around and tussling against the likes of Roman and OverShadow's machinations, there was a young man in Boston, name of Patrick Crowe. He was a teacher of history, a kind and gentle man, given to a quiet demeanor. But yet, he found in himself a certain fire that he could never quench. Every time he saw the heroes on television or the news, he thirsted to help, to see the battle in person, to fight. This thirst scared him, and he suppressed it as best he can...until the day destiny came knocking. He was in a history class when all hell broke loose, teaching his students (ironically) about the legend of Cuchulainn of the Red Hand, the great Irish hero. The man who slew a thousand men in a single battle, who rejected the Morrigan when she sought to seduce him, who died standing, lashed to a rock so that his enemies would not see him fall - a true warrior hero of the ages. A spear and shield, said to have been wielded by the hero, lay on his desk. And a villain chose then, when Patrick held those two pieces of history, to strike at the university, attacking the son of a hero said to have attended there. He burst through the door in a blaze of fire and fury, saying that he would pay unto this child tenfold everything his father had done unto him! And then, out of nowhere, recieved a ringing blow across the head. Turning to face his assailant, there stood Patrick Crowe, his shirt stretched by new-grown muscles, grinning like a madman, eyes flashing, the spear and shield in his hands as if they belonged there; and the teacher bore down upon him bellowing an ancient war cry. Caught off-guard, the villain put up a valiant defense, and the two fought through the university – neither side giving nor asking quarter, until finally the villain lay defeated, battered, and broken on the steps of the school. As the haze lifted from Patrick, he stared at the weapons, looking at the applauding students. He was given a commendation by the city, treated like a hero, and granted a visitation from the gods of the ancient Celtic pantheon themselves, who informed him of a long-lost connection between his family and the legendary Cuchulainn; for the teacher, it was a dream come true. Keeping the weapons with the museum's blessing, he took on the moniker Red Hand, and made an armored costume to mask his identity (not really), and live up to the ideal he'd built in his head. After many years fighting in Boston, earning a reputation as a savage, yet noble hero, he eventually traveled to Freedom City to meet one of his idols, the great Centurion. It was a wonderful experience for the man, and he decided to settle down in the great metropolis for a while. It was at the behest of the Irish pantheon (specifically the Morrigan) and his own initiative that he fought beside Raven and the Freedom League on many an occasion, even earning an honorary membership (to his great surprise and honor). And it was about a year or two before Centurion's death that Red Hand began to feel the age of his years; he chose to hang up his spear and shield shortly thereafter, returning to Boston. It was about a day after his return to his old brownstone house that he received a message - a powerful individual wished to speak with him. He repeated an incantation he'd learned years ago, and promptly appeared in a dark forest clearing; standing before him was a young woman, clad in a black cloak and dressed from head to toe in black, with a raven on her shoulder. Crowe immediately knelt in respect, for he recognized her as one of the most dangerous women he'd ever known; the Celtic goddess of battle, strife, and fertility. Mor Rioghain, the Morrigan. She paced around him like a shark as he knelt, the (increasingly nervous) retired hero asking to what honor she had requested his presence, and she smiled. A chill went down his spine. She informed him that he had...pleased her, with his exploits. His legend might have not transcended the great stories of Cuchulainn, but he was a truly legendary figure in his own right. He demurred, acting humbly, and hoped to all his might she wasn't about to ask him what he thought she was. She did. She gave him an offer similar to what she'd given Cuchulainn; lie with her, and let her bear a child that would become an even greater hero than he, one whose name would ring throughout history. Patrick Crowe shuddered at the offer. Red Hand smiled wolvishly. Unlike his idol, Crowe did not deny her. Something that lingers in the back of his mind to this day. It was about a year later when a knock came on the door, and Crowe opened it to see a basket on the doorstep. A baby was there, and it looked up at him with big eyes. He stared at it briefly, then smiled goofily at it. The baby laughed, and his fate was sealed. For fifteen years, he raised Morgan Crowe as his only son, weaned him on stories of the ancient Irish heroes and his own days as Red Hand, raising him to remember what he'd learned during his long career. To fight your battles with joy, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, and (he'd always grin at this one) never be afraid to fight dirty. It was on Crowe's sixteenth birthday that both Patrick and his son were summoned again, and they appeared in the same clearing Morgan's father had met the Morrigan in years ago. She approached the two, looking at her child in anticipation. Then stopped. And stared. Her face appeared puzzled. Then confused. Then astonished. Then angry. Very, very angry. She swore in a tongue no longer used by man, the two men stepping back as she raged. The boy had no legendary powers. Nothing in his blood that would match that of Cuchulainn's! He could not even wield Red Hand's ancient shield and spear! This boy could never be a hero like his ancestors before him! She cast them away, and the two returned to their home, very much shaken. Patrick silently gave thanks that his son, while knowing what was Right, wouldn't be following in his footsteps. Morgan, on the other hand...Morgan was angry. He was angry at his mother, angry at life in general (he was sixteen, after all). He'd grown up hearing stories of his dad as Red Hand, he'd seen those old weapons on the mantlepiece and prayed for years that he'd get to wield them one day. And now, for some unearthly reason he couldn't fathom? He'd never get to wield them. Never become a hero. He raged. He fumed. He showed for a time that he and his mother had a very similar temper. Eventually, he settled, but his resentment smouldered. Then, one day, he met somebody. It was a demonstration that Crowe had been interested in at his high school, the art of the "sweet science". Besides the legends of the heroes, he'd always had a great interest in old-school Irish boxing, Dornálaíocht, Coraíocht, and Speachóireacht . He watched the competitors go at it hammer and tongs, cheering with his classmates as they watched the show - when it got disrupted. In an act of sweet irony, a villain from Red Hand's heroing days invaded the school, breaking into the gym and roaring that if Red Hand didn't show himself immediately, he'd find his son and punish him for his father's "crimes". Crowe's resentment, still smouldering, exploded, and he stepped up and roared that if the villain wanted a fight, then he was right here! Crowe...got the stuffing beat out of him. The villain, grinning evilly, proceeded to slam his foot into the ground, kicking up a wall of earth to separate him from the other students and teachers who tried to run forward to aid him. Laughing, he punched Morgan with blows far beyond anything the young man could match, kicked him with kicks that made Morgan go sailing, savagely beat him while insulting Red Hand with every other breath. Morgan endured this punishment silently, desperately trying everything he'd managed to learn from the classes he'd taken, the old moves his dad had shown him, and nothing worked. Lying bleeding on the ground, he watched the villain turn and laugh, demanding that Red Hand show himself and not leave his son so broken and battered. Then, he remembered something; fight your battles with joy, protect those who couldn't protect themselves...and never be afraid to fight dirty. Silently clambering to his feet, he reached out and grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher - then cracked the assailant over the head with it with a mighty CLANG. The villain staggered briefly, spinning angrily to return the favor, then received a faceful of foam, blinding him, followed by another savage crack across the head. A solid kick to the shins hurt Crowe's foot horribly, but the villain tumbled down, clutching it and wheezing as another blast filled his vision. Crowe rained down blows with the fire extinguisher, finally stopping once the villain had stopped moving (but still breathing), and dropped the fire extinguisher on the man's groin. Crowe realized something. While mighty powers were the purview of a lot of different heroes, they weren't all like that. Didn't his father tell him about Raven, and wasn't there this new hero in Freedom City his dad had mentioned, Arrowhawk? They weren't superpowered, but they knew how to fight smart rather than stupid. From there, Crowe was a changed teen. He took his resentment and turned it around, becoming determined to prove his mother wrong. He took jobs on the docks to build up his muscles, followed a strict training regime that had even his dad sweating, practiced his skills endlessly. His father tried his best to dissuade him from his path (after the attack he'd undergone a serious bout of overprotectiveness) but eventually he gave up, essentially becoming Morgan's coach. He introduced him to a few old hero friends, even took him to meet the old Raven, now running the Claremont Institute, and Crowe's skills increased further. Finally, a knock came at the door while Crowe's dad was away. A spirit of the woods, having run from her ancestral home, was looking for the legendary Red Hand, begging for help with a Formorian hunter who sought to capture her. Morgan, now sixteen and full of bantam courage, told her he'd handle it. And, rather unbelievably, actually did. He remembered the lessons of the past, ambushing the hunter in an alleyway and giving him several solid sucker-punches that sent the beast reeling. After finishing the job with a heavy iron bat, he looked up at the sky, picturing his mother looking down...and gave a very rude gesture, grinning. He told the spirit his name was Crow, and if she ever had a problem, he'd be happy to help. Unfortunately (for him), she took him up on his offer. And so did her friends. And several other friends. Armed with nothing but ingenuity, his fists, and the muscle he was rapidly accumulating, he gained a reputation amongst the lower parts of the Tuatha de Dannan and their ilk as a troubleshooter and guardian. He actually managed to keep this a secret from his dad for a while, until he came back home covered in blood and bruises, just as his dad pulled up in the driveway from grocery shopping. This was followed by a very, very long explanation. Red Hand, Patrick Crowe, sighed. And then made a call. Morgan stood there, dripping and bandaged heavily, as his dad said a few things into the phone, something about Claremont, Freedom City, and an old favor. Then he nodded. And looked at Morgan. And told him to pack his bags. As Crowe went upstairs to pack, he opened his closet. And found something rather odd. A big black coat, hanging there, covered in old runes he'd never even seen before. He took it down off the hangar to admire it, and a note fell out. He gave it a cursory look-over, then a far more serious stare. Then simply burst out laughing. "Consider this a wager. On the future. Good luck, Crow. -M." He crumpled the note in his hand, and threw his stuff together. For better or worse, the eyes of the gods were on him now. And come hell or high water, one day his legend'd be just as big as his dad's! Personality & Motivation: Morgan Crowe's always been fairly easy to read, if you've known him long enough. It's pretty easy to tell that he wears his heart on his sleeve. He's quick to anger, quick to forgive, and can go from laughing to nail-spitting mad pretty fast if you push the right buttons. Granted, at times he can be a bit rough around the edges, but he's the sweetest guy in the world if you're his friend, and he'll back anyone he calls that to the bitter end. To call him stubborn would be a misnomer, he's a very determined individual, and when he sets his mind on a goal, it's very tough to dissuade him. Still, he has learned from experience that while determination is a good thing, taking time to plan and "fight smart" is always a far better idea than "fighting stupid". Don't get him wrong - his main motivation is to become a great hero, to forge his own legend like his dad and great ancestor, and to be a great hero that people would tell stories about; but some time and experience have caused him to do some re-evaluation on whether focusing on his own legend is truly what’s best for him as a hero. Still, for now, he's a young man with a great legacy to live up to, close friends that he'd do next to anything for, several secrets that need hiding, and a girlfriend who never fails to make his head spin. This is what he shows to the world. Power Descriptions: Generally, when Crow taps into one of his runes, it flares to life in whatever location it is on his coat. Depending on the strength of the rune, it might either smoke briefly, or burn with a near-blinding light as the power flows from the coat (or glove) into him. The Talon Gloves are generally a lot less noticeable than the coat, however; the throwing knives there simply appear in his hand or sleeve when required, and disappear when their use is concluded. Powers & Tactics: Crowe's motto has always been "Fighting smart hurts a hell of a lot less than fighting stupid", and it shows. He's an expert pugilist (for his age), being wicked fast and possessing an absolutely thunderous right hook. He's never afraid to just dive right into a fight, despite his obvious shortcomings compared to the vast majority of Freedom City, but he always tries to take the time to set the stage beforehand, ensuring the environment is favorable to him, preparing some dirty tricks that'll give him an edge, or at least keeping the villains off-kilter enough for him to nail that one lucky shot that deflates them fast. He never goes anywhere anymore without his duffel bag and girlfriend's ring, to boot. Post-training trip, Crowe has re-examined the use of his runes in combat, as well as done some tweaking of his own to the coat (with the aid of Logan Angusson, a dwarf mechanic and artificer of his acquaintance); he still uses the Rune of Wind Walking like it's going out of style, attacking from all angles with a variety of strikes, but there's a far more tactical element to his work (courtesy of old late-night planning sessions with Myrmidon, as well as cross-training in multiple types of martial arts with the others). Repeated long-range strikes using the Talons; followed up by the use of either a lightning-charged wire trap of his own devising, or several hard shots from different wind-walked angles using a new Lightning Rune-infused 'taser-punch' to slow them down further for his compatriots (he's learned the hard way that he just hasn't got the stamina for the kinds of close-range hand-to-hand slugfests they can handle, and it does rankle). Although, should he be flying solo, the same tactic is still useful; just saving the lightning shots until they're firmly trussed up with the wires, and operating from concealment whenever possible. In short, he's swiftly becoming an expert at hit-and-run tactics, as befitting his namesake. Complications: An Irregular Situation - Let it never be said that Morgan doesn't care deeply for those he considers close to him; in this case, the (former) Irregulars. Each former member of small group is a good friend (one moreso in particular) to him, and it's not an exaggeration to say that he would take a bullet for any of them (though he'd ream them up and down afterwards for getting into that situation in the first place). A canny villain could likely exploit that - one already has. An Eye For An Eye - Crow's reputation has grown somewhat in the world of the supernatural, as both a hero and as a troublemaker; however, one fact stands above quite a few others. Crow took by force the eldritch artefact known as the Eye of Balor from Bres the Beautiful himself - a powerful tool of chaos magic that several villains and monsters would literally commit murder to own. Any villains knowledgeable of this fact may focus their attentions on him, hoping to pry the location of the Eye from the young hero; by any means necessary. Eyes Of The Gods - The eyes of the Celtic pantheon, the Tuatha de Dannan, are upon Crow, now that he's taken a route in direct defiance to his mother. On the one hand, some of them are proud and fascinated by this young and resourceful mortal...but others consider him an upstart and a rogue who does not know his place in the way of things. Combine that with the fact that his mother has considerably mixed feelings about him (a great deal of rage that he isn't a superpowered warrior of lore, but a tiny inkling of pride that her son is making his way like this), and you see just how complicated things can get for the young man. Lovebird - Morgan is currently in a comfortable mutual relationship with Victoria Knight, also known as the heroine Wisp. Two young folks in their early twenties, dating, with considerable complications in their respective family histories. What could possibly go wrong? Not Subtle, Yet Quick To Anger - If it's one thing Crow's inherited from his mother, it's her fearsome temper. It's quite easy to make him angry if you know what buttons to push, and he'll never tolerate mocking of his family or especially his father. Although some re-evaluation as to his mother has reduced his antipathy towards her - not much, but still. Reputation - A few years of monster-busting and troubleshooting for minor spirits and demigods of the Tuatha have given Crow a bit of a rep as an expert problem-solver for those in need. This can lead to slight complications, as most spirits don't seem to realize that even though he's clever and resourceful, he is only mortal, and not all of their problems are suitable for a mortal to solve. This has only been exacerbated by going into the 'magic security' business, too... Seventh Deadly Sin - Crow, although he is loath to admit it, is a very prideful person. He knows he's of a great lineage, his dad was a great hero, his mother's a goddess (though he doesn't like to talk about her), and his own exploits have gained him a small bit of renown in the Tuatha. He's begun to learn humility (a thoroughly painful training trip, and years working with the formerr Irregulars, who didn't hesitate to whack him on the head when he got too overconfident, has done wonders for that), but he still has his moments. Home Is Where The Heart Is - Parkhurst Hotel is one of Crow's prides and joys, a sanctum he actually had a hand in creating, and a place he knows he has a home in once his years at Claremont are finished. He doesn't have quite the same level of trust for the inhabitants as he does with his friends, but he still cares for the place and the people who helped build it - enough that he'd drop whatever he has on hand to rush to the place's assistance if they needed it. Sins Of The Father - Crow's dad was a great hero back in the day, the legendary Red Hand, and Crow knows it. He's full of pride of that fact, but while he inherited a lot of his dad's resources and old contacts...he's also inherited a lot of his dad's enemies, as well as a great deal of expectation. Struggling - He's a young entrepreneur running an extremely oddball business. What is this thing you call cash flow? Abilities: 8 + 8 + 10 + 4 + 4 + 2 = 36PP Strength: 18 (+4) Dexterity: 18 (+4) Constitution: 20 (+5) Intelligence: 14 (+2) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 12 (+1) Combat: 14 + 10 = 24PP Initiative: +8 Attack: +7 Base, +9 Melee, +13 Ranged, +15 Talon Barrage/Talon Wire Grapple: +10 Defense: +14, (+5 Base, +9 Dodge Focus) +2 Flat-Footed Knockback: -3, -1 Flat-Footed Saving Throws: 3 + 6 + 6 = 15PP Toughness: +10 (+5 Con, +1 Tough, +2 Undercover Shirt, +2 Defensive Roll), +7 Flat-Footed Fortitude: +8 (+5 Con, +3) Reflex: +10 (+4 Dex, +6) Will: +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 88R = 22PP Acrobatics 1 (+5) Bluff 9 (+10) Craft (Artistic) 8 (+10) Concentration 8 (+10) Gather Info 9 (+10) Skill Mastery Intimidate 9 (+10) Skill Mastery Languages 1 (English [Native], Gaelic) Knowledge (History) 8 (+10) Knowledge (Arcane Lore) 8 (+10) Notice 8 (+10) Skill Mastery Sense Motive 8 (+10) Stealth 11 (+15) Skill Mastery Feats: 33PP All-Out Attack Attack Focus (Melee) 2 Artificer Beginners Luck Defensive Attack Defensive Roll (+2 Toughness) Dodge Focus 9 Equipment 3 (15EP) Evasion 2 Fearless Hide In Plain Sight (Engraved Ring) Improved Initiative Luck Master Plan Move-By Action Power Attack Quick Change 2 (Engraved Ring) Skill Mastery (Gather Information, Intimidate, Notice, Stealth) Startle Takedown Attack 2 Tough Uncanny Dodge (Auditory) Equipment: 3PP = 15EP 3 + 2 + 1 + 4 + 5 = 11EP Undercover Shirt: Protection 2 (Feats: Subtle) [3EP] Encrypted Commlink: (Feats: Subtle, Insidious) [2EP] Gas Mask [1EP] Smoke Bombs: Obscure 2 (visual, 10' radius; Feats: Independent) [4EP] Parkhurst Hotel (Shared HQ) [5EP] Powers: 12PP + 28PP + 6 PP + 4 PP = 50 PP Descriptors: General Damage Types (Bludgeoning/Piercing), Magic, Iron, Lightning Device 3 (15PP Container; Flaws: Hard-To-Lose) [12PP] (Runic Coat) Runes (8PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power 1) [9PP] Base Power: Healing 8 (Flaws: Empathic) [8PP] (Magic) (Rune of Revival) Alternate Power: Concealment 4 (All Visual Senses) [8PP] (Magic) (Rune of The Veil) Teleport 4 (400ft per Move Action, Flaws: Limited [short-Range], Feats: Subtle, Turnabout) [6PP] (Magic) (Rune of Wind Walk) Device 7 (35PP Container; Flaws: Hard-To-Lose) [28PP] (Runic Gloves) Rune Glove Array (30 PP Array, Feats: Accurate 2, Alternate Power 3) [35PP] Base Power: Strike 9 (Feats: Mighty, Knockback 2) + Stun 8 (Extras: Contagious [+1]; Flaws: Daze [-1]; Feats: Slow Fade) [12 + 17 = 29PP] (Bludgeoning/Magic/Lightning) (Rune of Lightning Strike) Alternate Power: Blast 9 (Feats: Precise 2, Ricochet 3, Indirect, Improved Range 2 [450'], Improved Critical 2 [18-20], Subtle) [29PP] (Iron/Piercing) (Summoned Crow's Talons) Alternate Power: Blast 6 (Extras: Autofire; Feats: Accurate, Precise 2, Ricochet 3, Indirect, Improved Range 2 [300'], Improved Critical 2 [18-20]) [29PP] (Iron/Piercing) (Talon Barrage) Alternate Power: Snare 6 (Feats: Accurate, Indirect, Improved Range 1 [150'], Subtle, Tether, Reversible) + Blast 6 [18 + 12 = 30PP] (Magic/Lightning) (Iron Wire and Rune of Lightning) Device 2 (10PP Container; Flaws: Easy-To-Lose) (The Iron Mask) [6PP] Super-Senses 10 (Analytical Vision [+2], X-Ray Vision (Cannot Pierce Lead) [+4], Darkvision [+2], Infravision, Tracking [infravision]) [10PP] (Magic) (Eyes of the Rook) Device 1 (5PP Container; Feats: Hard-To-Lose) [4PP] (Engraved Ring) Dimensional Pocket 1 (100 lbs) [2PP] (Magic) (Rune of The In-Between) Enhanced Feat 2 (Quick Change 2) [2PP] (Rune of Swift Raiment) Enhanced Feat (Hide In Plain Sight) [1PP] (Lesser Rune of The Veil) Drawbacks: -0PP None DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC19 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Lightning Strike Touch DC28 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Touch DC18 Fortitude (Staged) Dazed Crow's Talons Ranged DC24 Toughness Damage (Physical) Talon Barrage Ranged DC21+ Toughness Damage (Physical) Iron Wire Ranged DC16 Reflex Entangled/Bound Ranged DC21 Toughness Damage (Physical) Abilities (36) + Combat (24) + Saving Throws (15) + Skills (22) + Feats (33) + Powers (50) - Drawbacks (0) = 180/184 Power Points

GM Lantern Hill, 537 Herge St. 5.06AM, Thursday, 10th October, 2013 The black knight had seemed like bad news from the start. At first it had just been Morgan's contacts in the realm of spirits earlier that week, mentioning some change in Avalon that wasn't to everyone's liking, some new contender who was trying to shake things up. Such usually raised hell for a few months then withdrew from the world stage, but this one had persisted. Even a few of the lesser Fair Folk lords and ladies gathered to their cause. Then the Order sensed a surge of power in places once associated with vanished Camelot, a surge that had erupted in a magical torrent and then flung itself across the ocean like a hunting hound. The warning they had sent to their agent Blodeuwedd in the States had been vague enough but charged with unease. Watch for someone using the old ways. So when the black knight emerged full-blown on the scene, bursting from the South River to chase down a stolen car on his magnificent black mare in the Boardwalk, it had seemed at once suspicious and too much of a coincidence to be right. At first the strange chevalier's silence was a note against him, his refusal to speak and deft avoidance of even the lightest contact with other heroes or the press something troubling. Then as he had started doing more regular heroic work, for a time all seemed at peace as the strange silent knight fought for the innocent on Lantern Hill, joining the ranks of the cities many strange heroes... ...then Crow had heard a dire warning from the grumpy dwarf who lived under the ramshackle house on 537. The dwarf was a refugee from some struggle between Avalon and the Norse gods, a good informant(if churlish) on the goings-on in the largely unknown world that lived beside Freedom City. Only half an hour ago the letter had arrived at Parkhurst, asking for the pair to meet him so he could tell them something he had learned about their new comrade-in-arms. When they arrived they had found the cramped and crammed basement all but trashed and the dwarf a still corpse on the starkly-lit floor, with a knife wound in his back. The conspicuous lack of blood somehow made it that much worse.

Thursday, April 18, 2013 5:30 AM Claremont Academy, Bayview, Freedom City, NJ "And that was the last thing Warp remembers before passing out in her dorm room after teleporting back." Duncan Summers finished explaining, a hint of fatigue in his voice. The retired superhero turned educator was sitting in his recently rebuilt office at Claremont Academy, his prior office having been all but destroyed during the events of the Day of Wrath a few months earlier. "And how is Warp doing?" Came a dark voice speaking from within the shadows of a corner of Duncan’s office. The speaker was none other than his daughter, Callie Summers, the current Raven, and she was there in costume. Duncan had little doubt that his daughter had been up much of the night already, working on some case or another, but if she was feeling any fatigue from the early hour, she was doing a much better job of hiding it. "She is in the infirmary still, but doing well. Whatever was used to knock her out has left her considerably groggy, but there will be no lingering effects." Duncan replied. "And there is no sign of Tsunami, El Heraldo or Net Fly?" Raven then asked, though she knew well enough the answer. "No, none of them have returned to campus. Based on what I have learned, the fire department was called to a fire at the address Warp provided, but when they arrived there was no longer any active blaze, though evidence that there had been a fire. They currently have cordoned off the building, planning to further inspect it in a few hours when there is better light." "Good, then they likely have not contaminated the scene yet. I have a bit of time to get in there and look around before they do." Raven replied. "Don't worry, I will find them." The heroine then began moving towards one of the office's windows. "I have little doubt." Duncan replied, eyeing his daughter hesitantly. "But…are you certain you should investigate this alone? You know very well that he could be involved." Raven stopped a moment before the glanced back over at her father. "Yes, I am fully aware of that possibility. But this is my responsibility, I was the one that brought Giang here, knowing full well her family's background." And with that, the dark clad heroine was gone out the window, vanishing into the still dark morning sky. Still seated in his chair, Duncan stared out of the window to where his daughter had disappeared from view. While normally he had full confidence in her abilities and decisions, where Dr. Sin was possibly involved, he was a bit more concerned. Letting out a deep sigh, Duncan reached for the telephone at his desk and dialed a familiar number. "Alan, I am sorry about the early hour, but I need to speak with Ms. Pefr, Ms. Baudin and Mr. Crowe immediately."

Thursday, September 5th Gourd's Gym Mali parked her car and opened the door. "Well, we're here". She said, grabbing her gym bag out of the back seat. "This is a nice place, I was here a while back." She glanced up at the gym and remembered, fondly, the last time she'd been in the gym. That guy had been fun to spar with. She had sparred with Crow a few times, but that tended to draw a bit of an audience if there was anyone else in the gym. Came with the territory of being one of the better hand-to-hand fighters at the school. "They've got all the usual gym gear." She said.

When the battle was done and the commandos defeated, Citizen floated out of the warehouse with his precious cargo tucked beneath one arm. "I've got it, guys!" He had both the truncated Erde-Tronik drive and the gold boxy storage medium from Earth-Prime in the same big black case. It would be up to he and Gina over the next few months, (probably as what would incidentally count as his graduation project) to integrate the Troniks together successfully but for now the backup was complete and the City of the Future (as he still sometimes thought of it, the very old motto that Tronik had kept even after the Exodus) was safe from the National Socialists. Assuming they got out there in time! "Wow!" He wasn't so focused as to not be impressed when he saw the battle with his own eyes; the smoking helicopters, the fleeing commando, the crack Nazi strike team that Young Freedom had taken apart with all of the skill and power of a master artist painting a portrait. "Nice, you guys," he said with a grin before disappearing into the Wonder Bus. "Now let me get the systems in here rebooted..." As the lights inside the Bus came back on, the other machines came out, Rogue in the lead in a humanoid body that looked like a human woman cast in the featureless nude, like something from a German Expressionist movie. With no explanation for the new shape, she cast her gaze from the scene of the battle to the heroes, back and forth, and for the first time seemed almost uncertain. "You did this. All of this, when you could have taken your Sharl and that city and..." She opened and closed mechanical hands before saying, decisively, "All right. All right, maybe you're right. Maybe there is another way to prosecute our war against the National Socialists." The group of robots behind her, which did not include her Sharl (who was in that system his counterpart was carrying) startled at that, but Rogue pressed on. "If you can fight the Nazis like this, teach them _fear_ without destroying them all, maybe we can try it ourselves. At least once, anyway. But you'd better take the Ragnorak with you. If we're not going to prune the humans back, it'll just look bad if we have it in our possession."

Are we in initiative? I dunno. Disable Device, Notice, Sense Motive, or Technology checks might also be prudent.

Saturday, March 4th, 2012 4:02 PM Waterfront warehouse district, Freedom City Todd Hayden wove his cherry-red Mustang through the traffic of Freedom City was practiced ease, slipping from lane to lane and passing slower cars with barely a glance in his mirrors. As he drove he spoke, his words for the benefit of the three young heroes from Claremont academy that occupied the rest of the car. "My ancestors were pirates," he said. "Freebooters, privateers, sea dogs -- they sailed the oceans and looted and plundered to their hearts content. That's because for years they were also cultists of the Snake People. "We came to the New World with the first wave of English immigrants. Settled up in Boston, among the coves and natural harbors. Eventually the family's wealth was tied up in investments on land, not the sea, and I guess they didn't feel the need to worship the old gods anymore -- or maybe Elijah Prophet got the last of the Dagon-worshippers and the rest of the family didn't want to burn, I don't know." Hayden downshifted and pulled off the freeway, heading steadily towards the docks and piers. "I guess we just couldn't stay away from the water and easy money, though. In the thirties my family was involved with fascist groups in the States. Lots of people were -- I have a photograph of my great-granddad with Henry Ford. But when the war started we threw out lot behind the Nazis, tried to use our money and influence for them. We were almost found out by the first Raven and Lady Liberty, but somehow we just barely managed to keep out of jail. "The family named was ruined, though. My grandfather and father were both gamblers and drunks. I inherited a pile of debts and a legacy scholarship to Georgetown. I just wanted to dig around in the dirt for my whole life, but once I graduated... I was going to spend my entire life working at business or end up bankrupt and living in a shoebox, working at a museum somewhere." The car was crawling through access roads now, the sea close enough to smell. "When the Serpent People approached me, I... I knew it was a deal with the devil, but I thought I had the upper hand! They told me where I could find some old sunken treasure in Chesapeake Bay. I paid off my family's debts with that and started looking to dig abroad. They told me where I could find old Atlantean ruins, outposts from their war thousands of years ago. A whole chapter of history no one knew anything about! It was absurdly easy to make my name, and then I could pick and choose where I worked. "That's when Ernest showed up, and the Serpent People started leaning on me harder and harder. They wanted to know about navy movements, they had me drop sonar buoys and magical trip mines at dig sites. In the Middle East, I handed off money to some man whose name I never got. A week later, an archeological dig in Yemen was dynamited! I thought I should turn myself in, go to the Freedom League, whatever, but Ernest -- or at least one of them -- was always there." Hayden stopped the car and nodded at a row of warehouses. "The one on the very end, that's where the shark skeleton was delivered to. I... I don't know if I can help you any more than this."

Saturday, March 4th, 2012 2:42 PM Freedom Aquarium The parking lot of the Freedom Aquarium was rather crowded for so early in the year, but the blue and chrome bus with FCTA printed on the side pulled up to the curb in front of the main entrance, and two dozen young men and women of every description piled out. Moving among them, keeping order, where two older gentlemen. Leeroy Hawke was taller than most of the other people on the bus, and dressed in slacks and a turtleneck he still had an air of quiet power around him. He seemed to have an eye everywhere, reaching out to stop a bully from flicking spitballs at an underclassman one moment and the next, catching a young woman as she was knocked off her feet by the press. "Watch yourself, Kirsten," he said to the girl as he set her back on her feet. "Everyone, just take it slow! We'll have time to see all the exhibits, I promise." Jesse Perry was almost the exact opposite of his coworker. Short, with a paunch, and wearing a tweed-with-leather-patches outfit straight out of Ben Stein's closet, he has been seated near the back of the bus with Leeroy but was somehow out of the bus and on the sidewalk before anyone else. He kept both eyes on the students as they filed out of the bus, making sure no one wandered too far off. "Everyone, just keep together. We need to make sure everyone gets off the bus, first." He spotted a junior in a pea coat and jeans. "Morgan Crowe! Make sure the underclassmen don't wander off!"

September 25, 2011 Crow, Changeling, Myrmidon, Wisp, and Glowstar face off against one of their own. Raveled be runnin' this.

September 25, 2011 Bayview, Freedom City Claremont Campus GM The Claremont campus was usually calm, no matter what was happening in the city. A Grue Invasion, the dead rising, squadrons of Metaceptors in the sky -- whatever it was, Summers worked hard to make sure it didn't get over the walls. However, the imminent destruction of the world wasn't something any one man could shield his charges from. He'd done the next best thing, though -- the students on teams were assigned around the city, and other students to wanted to were helping as best they could. Next-Gen was standing by at Blackstone; Young Freedom was protecting Freedom Hall while the League was busy elsewhere; the Alterniteens were keeping an eye on the Lab while the city's super-geniuses enacted their plan; and the Irregulars were holding the fort at Claremont. At the moment they were assembled in the zen garden, looking for a last moment of peace before the storm broke. The uneasy silence was broken by the sound of heavy, clomping boots on the path. Glowstar looked up to see a slim man wearing a black and white jersey shirt, loose slacks spilling over heavy boots. The new arrival took his headphones off an hung them around his neck, waving to the Irregulars. "Hey guys. Summers though you might need a little extra muscle, so." Christopher Beck slammed his fists together, and in a flash of light Megastar was standing there, towering over the group. "He called in the alumni. Cool, right?"

GM September 7th, 2011 The sun had not yet crested over the trees around the clearing, the smell of jerky and mead still tried to crest over the smell of unwashed bodies. Even though it was only 10am there are many people present. Tents, booths and lean-to's line the makeshift corridors at the Freedom City Renaissance Fair. Some of them selling items, others with small games of skill. In the center is a large competition ring where jousting, archery and other medieval events will take place over the course of the day. Performers dressed in medieval garb weaving their way through the 'streets' proclaiming their thee's and thou's. Overall it was shaping up to be a wonderful day at the fair!