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Doo doo doo. DC 20 Notice or DC 15 Knowledge (Theology/Philosophy) for the heroes arriving on the scene.
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August 30th, 2013 Just after dinner Claremont Academy, Games Room Tona Baudin sat on the couch, huddled into herself, stealing looks at the women across the table from her. The young archer was wielding unfamiliar tools, weapons which she had never considered until today. She felt the stares of the other three young females, and glared daggers at the only thing left for her to choose. "I don't see why we can't both be ninjas," she said, for the third time. She looked at Sam Vance, who was already shuffling her two decks of cards. "We both like sneaking. Why can't we both be... sneaky people?" She looked at the cards already in her hand, the Pirate deck. She had chosen it mainly because the pictures looked a bit more real than on the other cards; and now she was staring at the Alien deck. She knew she had to have two decks, but the combination reminded her uneasily of her trip to Sanctuary. Tona's eyes shifted to Kristen and Jennifer, looking for support. She didn't really know the two other Claremont students very well, but apparently they were also dating, and Jennifer had a yen for board games. The idea of the four girls bonding over pieces of cardboard was evidently normal for this dimension, because Sam hadn't reacted oddly to the suggestion. Which was why Tona was here, feeling -- oddly enough -- quite at sea.
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January 24, 2013 It was just after beginning of lunch period on Thursday, January 24th, 2013 when a holographic dog appeared in the common room of the Claremont dorm that had recently been the home of Sharl Tulink, the young hero who had given his life to save his home world, and much of Earth, from the ravages of the Curator earlier in the month. Claremont's students had been hard at work rebuilding their damaged campus and making new connections with friends who had been falsely accused of being Terminus replicants, or had in fact turned out to be evil robots from beyond the depths of space. Lora, Sharl's familiar electronic German Shepard, woofed at everybody a moment before Sharl Tulink himself simply appeared in thin air with a faint electrical hum. Standing right in front of the TV, and in fact seeming to be partially projected from it, he was hard to miss. "Uh, hey everybody," he said with a little wave. "I'm back!"
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The Morning of January 15, 2013 The Wonderbus roared through the skies of the Northern Hemisphere almost impossibly fast, the extra-dimensional construction of the craft shunting away the excess heat energy from its hypersonic flight enough to keep it undetectable in the air. They were flying thousands of miles, but the fantastic speed of their craft would get them there in less than an hour. Trying to keep his mind off the crisis of Erde-Tronik, the bioweapons, and the advanced plasma weapon that had nearly killed them all, Sharl had pulled up situation monitors from the computer inside the Bus, trying to keep track of what they'd left behind. "The good news is, the chaos seems to be limited to Freedom City, so it must be something there...I don't know, that bomb was extra-terrestrial, but I didn't recognize the maker. Maybe it's something with the Grue again." At least what they hoped to do with the Sanctum was easy enough. "I'll connect Erde-Tronik to the power supply there and keep it safe until Miss A and I can get it protected. As for the bioweapons, we can just drop them in one of the stasis fields there. It's not a long-term solution, but it'll last long enough for us to keep things safe. We-" A distant beeping interrupted Sharl. "That's the proximity alarm. Maybe there's somebody from the League there already." He tapped a few buttons on the bank of monitors they were all sitting around, the black and white screens looking as much like something from a 60s sci-fi TV show as the high-tech pieces of super-science they were. "I don't understand, there's something on top of..." The great grey vessel squatted over the Sanctum like an anteater scooping out ants, tentacles rising from its lower half scooping away huge chunks of ice even as they watched. The three eyes and slight horn at the rear echoed the face of the Gorgon, but Sharl knew that face well enough from his studies and his nightmares. He saw the details in an instant; the great digitizing towers driven into the icy Arctic landscape like tent spikes the size of buildings, the glowing red 'eyes' that bespoke an active subspace connection across the galaxy, and worst of all, much, much worse, were the smaller tentacles already buried in the exposed roof of the Centurion's Sanctum. His eyes wide with horror, Citizen managed to form the words: "It's the Curator."
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the climactic struggle of the Day of Wrath saga
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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."
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Are we in initiative? I dunno. Disable Device, Notice, Sense Motive, or Technology checks might also be prudent.
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January 2013 Outside Heesterstadt (formerly Branson), Missouri It was raining when the Wonderbus arrived, a thick, icy-cold storm of freezing rain that would have surely been a blizzard had the weather been any warmer. Warm and insulated through the dimensional craft was, it wasn't hard to feel the chill outside. The bus had folded its way through space and time to come rumbling out onto a deserted stretch of concrete road by a grim, grey lake that might possibly have been more attractive in the spring. As it was, the whole world was grey and brown: the city across the lake, what was Branson on another world, was almost lost beneath the heavy fog which swaddled the area. Shifting his clothing over to the bland, servile pattern his counterpart had worn, Sharl peered through the front windows, just able to make out tall concrete towers and a massive, hovering flag projected against the clouds from the city below like a massive old-style holographic billboard. It was grim. "Everybody get changed," he said, calling back to the passenger compartment as he reached down to turn on the conventional gasoline engine. "The Tronik base is about five miles up this road! We're turning around..." He muttered a bad word in Lor, trying to remember how to work these stupid controls. With all the worries about fighting Nazis and transdimensional technology, maybe he hadn't paid enough attention to how to drive a stupid four-wheeled, rubber-tired bus! Why can't they just use antigravs like civilized people?
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The bombastic sign above the otherwise nondescript storefront proclaimed the institution to be "The Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship!" in bold gold lettering on a black backround complete with exclamation mark. Large glass windows revealed a currently unattended front desk and a diving wall that separated the training space from the street entrance. The second floor of the brick building looked to be given over to modest apartments, though it was worth noting that the window boxes hanging from them were host to some truly gorgeous flowering plants, fully in bloom in the August heat. Their leaves brushed against the top of the sign invitingly. The school had been up and running for about a month by then, advertising through posters and word of mouth not to mention a surprisingly well designed and maintained website. It was in one of the nicer parts of the West End fortunately enough; those inclined to research such things might have noted that it had become a noticeably nicer area since the proprietors of the dojo had moved in. Thing has been a little slow to start off with but a new wave of self-defense classes were starting that day and a good number of new members had signed up. Erik Espadas, the titular owner and head instructor busied himself unhooking a punching bag from the ceiling and moving it to one side of the larger section of the building, clearing off space in preparation. In a sleeveless white shirt and and comfortable sweat pants, the athletic, dusty haired young man certainly looked capable enough, built of lean muscle and angular good looks. The real question was just what this new batch of trainees would bring him.
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Doo doo doo.
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January, 2013 When the Young Freedom students got back home from Christmas break, or rather found themselves on campus again steadily for the first time, there was a message for them from Citizen, calling them to meet with him at the 13th Floor right away. Citizen had been very busy in the weeks and months leading up to the break, working with the school and his mentor Miss Americana, on the project they'd all signed on for: the stealth mission to the Erde variant where an enslaved city of Tronik was a cybernetic captive of a collapsing Nazi regime. The shiny, glossy headquarters of the sometimes-troubled team looked busy and lived in as the team got there, and Sharl ushered everyone in with a tight look on his face. The various holo-emitters in the main conference room were all playing images as they arrived, familiar images to those who'd taken their other-dimension classes: massive Nazi super-tanks moving across the landscape of a battered United States, heavily-armed and armored German super-soldiers in combat with determined Resistance fighters, and a thousand other scenes of a world at war. Sharl waved his hand to silence all the machines, leaving only the grim images playing out behind him. Without preamble, he said, "We have to go. We have to go now." He coughed nervously, his image flickering, and added, "Over the holiday, Miss A and I made contact with Erde-Sharl and the leaders of the resistance movement in that universe's Tronik. Their Reich is running out of Ubersoldaten, so they're building an army of combat droids to take out the Resistance. Plague weapons, chemicals, anything designed to destroy organic life. And the worst part is, they're planning to use Tronikians as the software. A sentient program can do things even the best non-AI can't, especially when you destroy the sections that allow for emotion and personality." His jaw tightened. "They've already started. Miss A is in New York getting the last of the parts we'll need for a real gateway, but our departure time is tomorrow." Sharl strongly suspected she was watching, but his relationship with his mentor right now wasn't such that he could ask. "A...defector captured by the Liberty League last year gave us the plans for the base in what the locals used to call Missouri, and the other Tronik gave us the passcodes we'll need to get in without bringing all the Ubersoldaten down on us. The school's been cleared on it and we're all good to go...if you all are still in, that is," he added, a little belatedly. He was a little out of breath, but that was what happened when you still thought you needed to breathe: program or not. "Even though we're not going to get in trouble now that the school signed off on it, we are still putting ourselves in a lot of danger."
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September 7, 2012 Sharl wasn't sure what to make of the assignment he'd gotten from Ms. Harcourt, Claremont's hardworking science teacher, but he was there anyway for the "special team project" she'd invited him for. As more of his teammates arrived, it soon became clear that most of Young Freedom, and even one or two faces outside of it, had been invited along for the elective. They were in one of Harcourt's science labs, and Citizen found himself studying the homemade equipment with undisguised fascination as more people entered. _Could she really have made one of these out of household items?_ he thought with a little amazement as he drifted around a big kitbashed cylinder of electronic parts in the center of the room. "Come on in, everybody!" called Harcourt as more students entered. "Those of you who were asked to bring bags, and that's everyone who could, make sure you have those before you find a seat. This will be an overnight trip, and you need to be self-sufficient."
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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."
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Unfair Science Fair May 22, 2012 It was a big day at Joseph Clark High School; luckily Keith LaMarr was a very big man. The largest public high school in Lincoln was today hosting the 23rd annual George Washington Carver Science Fair, a cavalcade of the best and brightest from all over South Freedom. Kids from around there didn't get a lot of opportunities, so the chance for budding young geniuses to strut their stuff in public before potential college scouts was very compelling. It helped that today the school had managed to secure a celebrity judge for the GWC Fair: the world-famous gadgeteer Miss Americana! A lot of this was outside of Keith's area of expertise, of course, but few teachers at any high school in the area could bring a crowd of parents, students, and onlookers to heel with a look with as much ease as Mr. LaMarr the civics teacher. So he was on scene early to help with organization as Joseph Clark's kids got their displays set up and more kids began to arrive for the fair. It was a big day for everybody, with palpable excitement on the eager faces of the young scholars. Nearby was Patrick Grayson, an up-and-coming young senior whose intelligence had vaulted him several grades up, his research project having let him construct a minature gravitic generator like what Daedalus used to power his armor. The floating silver sphere was just a toy, but it bespoke good things for the kid who'd built it on his table using scraps. Keith had had special reason to pay attention to Patrick, and that reason was there too. Patrick's grandpa was watching his son work with pride, the grey-haired older man with his shock of hair and mustache vaguely slightly resembling Don King. Peter Grayson, aka the Mauler, had been a recurring foe for 1-800-JUSTICE back in the day, but the former prizefighter had abandoned his criminal ways after marrying Patrick's gramma Rose Marie. Pete had recognized Keith, of course, but the now- bespectacled older man had been very careful to stay close by his grandson rather than wander too close to his old enemy. -------- Meanwhile, across town, Glow and Citizen were flying along from the Claremont campus towards Miss Americana's laboratory; her facility one at the Lab, not the one at Archetech. It was Glow's 'ride-along day' for Miss Americana, part of her heroic training, which luckily coincided with Citizen's weekly day spent with his mentor. "You'll have a _great time_ with Miss A," Citizen was reassuring Glow, obviously looking very happy to be there. He didn't hang out with Kristen too much, but she was pretty cool, and of course Miss A was the coolest. "We're not doing much today, just some stuff around Freedom City, but she's great to hang out with. Her lab's got great gadgets, and she's just neat." He hadn't had a chance to hang out with Miss A much (as opposed to Gina) lately, and so he was looking forward to today quite a lot. Glow had heard of Miss Americana, of course, who hadn't heard of the beautiful, all-American genius whose charitable works made her so popular? From cybernetic limbs for injured kids all the way through blasting city-controlling abominations from the depths of space, Miss Americana was all right. It made a lot of sense that a famous science hero like Miss A had a cybernetic sidekick like Citizen, for all that he hadn't talked much about where he came from. Miss A had left the window of her laboratory open against the comfortable late spring day (since this was more a traveling day than a working day), and Glow and Citizen flew right in.
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For sparring purposes later on! This is a thread for Bee-Keeper III, Blue Jay, Catalyst and Glow.
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Miss A, Wail, Glow, and Citizen deal with a legacy from the recent past and the very distant future.
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Amongst all the drama, be it world-threatening or simply teenage growing pangs, it was often easy to forget that Claremont was first and foremost a place of education, albeit one with a truly unique curriculum. Given the broad spectrum of powers and abilities the students were there to hone, it simply wasn't feasible to have an expert in each and every area on staff. Instead, part of the senior students' own development involved aiding their underclassman peers where they were able. So it was that Eve Martel, the supremely talented telepath and telekinetic better known in some circles as Sage, had organized something of a study group with two of the school's junior students who both hailed from outside the United States and were versed in the application of mind over matter. While Kristin Jones, the redheaded Australian who sometimes went by Glow, had by far more raw telekinetic ability than the spectral Deceased-Canadian Kimber Storm, the gregarious Ghost Girl, the object of the exercise was in fact fine control. Eve had instructed them to meet her after afternoon classes in the campus' zen garden, a secluded and rarely visited spot free from distractions. Unfortunately, tranquility was not one of the words most commonly associated with Kimber, who bobbed up and down excitedly in the air as she arrived, the light of the waning sun washing through her translucent blue form, obscuring her outline from the right angle. Although it was a perfectly calm day, the poltergeist's hair rose and fell as though caught in an unseen wind or current. "Am I early?" she chirped eagerly.
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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!"
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Thursday, Jan 5th, 2012 The crowd outside Fun Time Toy's main lobby had begun growing as the unveiling of their newest product line came closer. The company had managed to keep what exactly it was under wraps, using everything from harsh Non-Disclosure Agreements with their employees and contractors to false leaks declaring everything from a line of Freedom League action figures to working hoverboards. When the announcement had been opened to the public and not just to the press, demand and interest had spiked. The entry fee for the public had also included a gift basket with a random selection of the company's catalog. The speakers setup outside the entrance crackled to life. "Welcome ladies and gentlemen! Please step back from the doors and have your ticket ready. Our friendly staff will guide you to the exhibition hall where the new line as well as complementary donuts and drinks are being served," a male voice sounded over the chilled crowd.
