Search the Community

Fall 2022 Neko brought a swirl of leaves with her when she entered the bookstore, red and gold that matched the apparent color of her hair. Dressed in a second-hand sweater that hung loose and long on her small frame over baggy jeans, her shoes scraped lightly against the floormat as she walked inside and wrinkled her nose. The place certainly smelled like it might have what she wanted; and of old books, too. Running her hands through her hair, she walked inside, wrapped in an ever-present swirl of magic that made her look like any other Asian teen out on the town. She looked around briefly, smiled at the clerk behind the desk, then immediately disappeared into the stacks. She kept her eyes out, looking for sections helpfully labeled "Oriental" or "Asian" or "Japanese", knowing they might be her best bet. There were sections about the Second World War, of course, but she didn't want to look at those unless she had to.

Summer 2018 It's a fine summer evening in 2018, and three young superheroes are out doing their thing. When suddenly, wherever they are, they're not alone. Comparing notes later, this is all happening simultaneously on one exciting Thursday night, but of course none of them know this at the time. That simultaneity is quite a feat, given that it's the same guy talking to all four of them, even though it doesn't look it at the time. "Start again. Right," the guy in the Egyptian headdress and linen skirt continues as he appears behind Thoughtspeed. "I don't have much time, so let's make it brief." The guy with the calaca face paint and black body suit continues as he speaks to Grim, "I am Yves Norris. I'm from your future. Well, one of your futures, but let's not go into that just at the moment. We don't have the time. Well, you do, but I don't." The guy in what Sīxiǎng is pretty sure is a WWII-era Nationalist army uniform goes on, "My energy supplies are limited, and you must be aware that time travel uses energy exponentially proportional to duration and distance. Basic application of Jodi's Law. Not that you would know about Jodi, because she hasn't been born yet, which is why I'm here. This may not make much sense to you, I suppose." The guy in the Santa Claus costume blinked, studied Zenith, then said "Wait, this is the wrong costume for this time of year, isn't it? Sorry! But really - there's no time to fix it now..."

January 2, 2018 Ashton and Grenville The advertisement at the music store had been well-presented enough - musicians wanted for a Holiday Concert at Club G4118. They were paying in both cash and exposure, with promises of out-of-town label agents in the audience. That sort of thing was a little outside of Fred and Matt's scope these days, but the money was nice, as was the opportunity to perform before a crowd that didn't involve anybody they knew. They were a little new to this public performance thing, after all. And so on the evening of January 2, 2018, they were making their way to Club G4118, a private club built into a converted home on the edge of Ashton. They were at the extreme edge of the neighborhood here, so far to one side that on the other side of the street was a vacant lot that itself segued into Wharton State Forest. It was a cold evening, with a light coating of snow on the ground, as they surveyed a neighborhood that looked like light suburban commercial development - a strip mall here, a chain restaurant there, and the looming shape of Club G4118 nearby. It looked to have been an older house before its conversion, perhaps one of the 19th century homes that had stood on this spot when Ashton was technically an independent town. Before consolidation had meant the murder of much of the town's history in the name of progress. From somewhere, distant Christmas music played, probably a tune from one of the stores in the stripmall. But Christmas was over now too - this was the last day of their last Christmas holiday.

OOC for this thread.

GM Cabin buried deep within Wharton Forest Wharton Forest, New JerseySunday, November 15th, 2015 3:20 AM Living in a national forest was to be a nomadic affair. It was prohibited by law to build permanent structures for the use of residence within. Of course, that didn't mean it was impossible to grease the wheels a little here and there. Especially for a cabin buried so deep within that no reasonable person should be able to find it. But, the Woodsman was far from reasonable. Following the general direction he had threatened out of a lackey, he easily combed every inch of the forest until he found Brasswell's cabin. The cabin itself had a very rustic appearance. The inside full of modern amenities and comforts, but lacking anything that could even be written off as threatening. Even looking inside it hardly looked like the sort of place a drug kingpin would hide out in. It was put simply nothing more than a home, at a glance The Woodsman skulked about the perimeter waiting for an opportunity to sneak inside unseen. After ensuring there were no traps waiting for him outside the youth did just that. Once inside a quick visual scan revealed that there was a man in his mid fifties sitting in a living room, his back turned to the Woodsman, having fallen asleep watching television. Just outside of the cabin. A few inches away from the door was Grim. His directions from the young man he helped passed on where more direct. But, that still left him as the second teen hero to arrive on the scene. Taking just long enough that he had missed Riley sneaking inside.

Here you go, @Fox and @Gizmo

August 10th 9:12PM The Music Room at Claremont Academy. Corinne was following Winifred's advice. While it wasn't her primary passion, it was something else she could do to vent, and maybe make some connections that weren't on shared experience of powers, and teenage trauma. She was an okay drummer, given that she needed to keep so this was more for fun than anything else. Fortunately there was a drum kit here, where she could cut loose. Fortunately, she could play enthusiastically and not have to be something out of Whiplash, or something like that, as she was largely self taught, still 'I Want You to Want Me,' was fun and engaging enough for her to start on before she tried more complicated, or challenging options. She had big headphones on playing the song she wants , and a sleeveless t-shirt for the band Red Fang, a pair of denim capris, and navy blue dock shoes. Her head bobbing along with the beat. Unlike her other pursuits this was just fun. And she needed it.

Matt had been waiting for her. He'd been trying ever-so-hard to not look like he'd been waiting for her, and on a normal day he probably could have pulled it off with his well-honed apathy and a set of scout dogs, but there was something under his skin and it was making him somewhat less than subtle. And so he paced, or tapped his foot, or drummed fingers against his knee to some song in his head, all while periodically pulling at a bandage wrapped tightly around his left forearm. He'd tried rolling the sleeves of his black overshirt down to cover it, but they didn't cover quite enough of his wrist and at some point he'd just given up. He'd given up on a lot of things, really. "Raina!" So much for playing it cool, well done. He pulled at the bandage again, unconsciously, pulling back a bit so that she didn't feel like she was getting ambushed outside her last class for the day. "It's...not that big a deal, but I could use a favor. Maybe. I'd definitely owe you one - heck, I'd owe you two, if it goes well."

Beneath Claremont Academy 8:42 AM July 10, 2017 By design the impervium cell was nearly empty. The front wall was transparent due to a process that Winifred would have usually been much more interested to learn about and the cube was large enough to pace about comfortably but the only furniture was a smooth bench large enough to also serve as a bed, constructed from the same material as the walls. There was a television set outside the transparent wall, featuring rather clever motion controls so as to forego the need of a remote control but the young alchemist didn't want it even for the white noise just then. Instead she sat on the bench beside the pillow she'd brought with her, wearing the oversized flannel shirt she'd adopted as sleepwear. She hugged her legs against her chest and pressed her face into her knees, letting out a long, weary sigh as she continued silently reciting the elements.

GM Claremont Academy, Headmistress's Office Approximately 4:30pm, May 18, 2017 Four students had been called into Headmistress Summer's office, by way of notes handed over quietly early in the day (so as not to raise a fuss about the matter): Riley Smith, Winifred Wei, Matthew Rivera, and Raina Sanderson. Miss Summers sat behind her desk, typing away as the students filed in, a couple of quick clicks closing whatever she'd worked on, before she turned and faced the students. She sat back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap as she calmly regarded each of them for several moments. "To begin, understand that none of you are in trouble. Instead, this is me presenting you all with an opportunity for...let's call it something of a work-study program. I believe that, between your individual skills and your friendships with each other, you are well-suited to this task. I can't make you do this particular assignment, but you all do have hours and credits and the like to finish, so if it's not this particular assignment, it will be another. And unfortunately, I can't guarantee another opportunity that's as..." She paused and thought over her words for a moment, apparently quite conscious of some of the strong personalities in the room. "I can't guarantee you won't end up being forced to complete an assignment while working with one or more fellow students you do not get along well with. And don't think your companion's skills would let you bypass this requirement, Miss Sanderson; I'd know if he tried. Still, I have faith you all will be interested in this particular project."

Winifred was still relatively new to being a friend, having been something of a consummate loner growing up in her native time period but she liked to think that she managed to be a reasonably good one, uncontrolled bouts of mass destruction aside. Certainly she still managed to be better socialized than the majority of her circle of peers, enough so that she'd been quick to scoop up her bag and borrowed music player and make her excuses when her roommate's boyfriend had knocked on their door. She'd almost let curiosity get the better of her once and asked Robin how exactly that worked before deciding that neither upsetting her friend or sitting through a detailed explanation were outcomes she particularly wanted. The Victorian was much happier to simply give the couple their privacy. That did leave her somewhat at loose ends, however. Normally she would have put in some time in the chemistry lab but the most interesting equipment there was in the process of being repaired or replaced and as those weren't entirely unrelated facts she had been strongly encouraged to find other ways to spend her time until further notice. The weather had turned brisk enough to discourage a trip outdoors without a destination in mind and the common room wasn't an appealing option, not at a time of day where she knew it would be crowded; the altercation with Madison and her squad hadn't done Winifred's reputation around campus any great favours. The miniature in-ear speakers Matthew had lent her made avoiding conversation while traversing the halls considerably easier but she'd found they did distressingly little to discourage interruption while sitting in one place. Sighing quietly to herself she placed them in her ears and gingerly pressed the triangular button on the player. Perhaps Raina and Cathy would allow her to hole up in a corner of their room for a while. It wouldn't be much warmer than the quad but the Scot was always eager enough to lend a wool jumper to any visitors.

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.

Winifred wasn't one to spend time in the common areas of Claremont Academy's dormitories unless she was on her way from place to place. It might have had something to do with the way common room emptied conspicuously quickly any time she sat down to read in one of the armchairs there or the way normal conversations turned into urgent whispers when she walked by in the hallways. For her part the alchemist liked to think that she was simply good at making efficient use of her time. With that in mind her strides where swift as she made her way through the boys' dormitory with a worn but carefully patched saddlebag full of chemistry equipment. She kept her back straight and chin high but her eyes didn't waver from looking straight ahead no matter what looks she could feel aimed at the back of her head. Reaching her destination she rapped quickly on the door, calling, "Smith."

GM Some Dark Alleyway Southside, Freedom City, New JerseySaturday November 14th, 2015 9:20 PM Matthew Rivera was taking the evening to visit old haunts. Something that might've been more uneventful had the youth's past been less colorful. Matthew noticed that someone had been following him for a minute and a half. Rounding the corner into a dark alleyway he found himself face to face with two assailants. Neither appeared like hardened criminals. In fact they barely looked older than Matthew. The male on the left looked as if he was cut from a marble statue. His physique not unlike that of a professional bodybuilder. His friend shakily held a knife out towards Matthew. The knife wielding youth looked slightly malnourished, possibly contributing as to why he couldn't keep his hand straight. "Give us all your money. Give it to us, or I'll cut you!" The wiry lad threatened. "Oh, and your shoes. That jacket looks nice too. Listen to him punk. C'mon hurry up, we ain't got all day." The musclebound mugger added with a hint of desperation in his voice.

Saturday, December 12, 2015 8:36 AM Eric LaCroix probably should have known better than to expect a peaceful day off. It had all started off well enough. He'd woken up, made a cup of coffee at the Parkhurst, and gone on something of a constitutional. The snow had turned from white to gray with time spent in the city, but had melted away to traces, leaving a relatively beautiful and unobstructed - if damp - urban landscape. He'd gone out bundled up in his jacket, intent on catching an exhibition at one of the local galleries. Then the police car had sped by. Followed by two more. The part of him that wanted him to leave it to someone else was swiftly shouted down. He decided not to go in in costume, though - just yet. Instead, he followed the cars, which eventually came to rest outside a restored brownstone off of Lechmere. They joined an ambulance that had already arrived; in the back bay, a man in a courier's uniform was being tended to by two EMTs. Blood ran down his face from a cut over his eyebrow, and he was desperately trying to get a hold of his words. "Door was open... I heard screaming... went in, and... things just started flying at me..." Eric shook his head. He didn't think this place was haunted - at least, it hadn't been the last time he'd checked on it. Then again, that had been 6 months ago. The place had undergone some renovations. He opened his eyes to the pulse of the grave... and saw the house quivering with necromantic energy, veins of black running through its walls. Great. He reached for his phone, placing a call to his associates. "Hey, yeah. We've got a house in Lantern Hill that wasn't haunted, and now is. And apparently, it doesn't like delivery boys."

Early September Common Room, Boy's Floor Riley sat alone in the common room, shoulders hunched, sharpening his hatchet. The jacket he wore was one size too big, a bulky, heavy outdoors jacket that had been a gift from his other self before leaving 'home' for Claremont. It was a nice enough jacket - it was certainly like nothing he'd ever worn back in his real home. Nothing this nice would have gone unpatched in fifteen years since the end of the world. The other boys were doing boy things; playing video games, watching television, and talking to each other. Riley, with keen ears and keen eyes, was intimately aware of every whisper of his name; every glance his way. Everyone on their floor had heard the yelling when Lubis had caught him in the bathroom - and they'd smelled the stink bomb afterwards, and seen the RAs coming back and forth and separating the two boys. Lucky I didn't make him eat that arrow. Divine avatar or not, he was pretty sure 'Garuda' wasn't tougher than impervium. Crossbow, and the duffel bag containing all his Earthly possessions, were at his feet under the table. He had only one companion there. "You ever thought about going double-headed?" Riley had the idea that John Smith had been one of the more elite students at Claremont in years past. In his early twenties, the crimefighter was still active traveling between dimensions, but in Freedom City mostly occupied himself with his duties as a combat instructor and RA at the Claremont Academy. He was the one who'd gotten Riley and Tyler Lupis separated, and made sure Mr. Hawke and his wife had put Riley up for the night in the faculty apartments across the campus, while Lupis had bunked with Smith himself - after some calisthenics. Garuda wasn't there right now, but Riley could see his buddy Gomera off brooding in a corner about how hard it was to be rich and well-fed every night. "Nah," said Riley shortly as he hefted the hatchet. "Not just for throwing, 'Sfor working, too." He pointed to the flat, weathered rear of the blade. "Use this for hammering and stuff." "Makes sense," agreed Smith before looking up as the common room door opened again. "Hey. There's the guy I was telling you about."

Grim Power Level: 10 [15] (205/243PP) Trade-Offs: +2 Attack / -2 Damage Unspent PP: 38PP In Brief: Teenage rebel psychopomp. Alternate Identity: Matthew Rivera Identity: Secret Birthplace: Freedom City, USA Residence: Claremont Academy Occupation: Student Affiliations: Claremont Family: None living. Description: Age: 17 (DoB: 1999) Gender: male Ethnicity: Hispanic Height: 5'10" Weight: 130lb Eyes: dark brown Hair: black Matthew Rivera has spent most of his young life physically active: he's built long and lean by nature, but time at school with a better diet and more attention to his health has started to put some good meat on his bones, rather than just the whipcord he enrolled with, the quiet muscle definition promising great things for his future. A thin budget and lack of access to fine shopping informs his personal fashion: his hair is black, straight, and eternally scruffy, hanging down to frame a handsome face or pulled back into a couple inches of rough ponytail. Most of his clothes are clean and intact, but distinctly second-hand - faded jeans, old t-shirts, and sneakers past their prime seem to be favored over anything school-provided, often with a flannel shirt or jacket thrown over top. Even the outfit he puts on to fight crime is only slightly better-kept: a mask made out of an old bandanna, black pants tucked into durable black boots, and matching vest & gloves (black with gold highlights) over a clean grey shirt. Power Descriptions: Grim's powers are largely subtle or internal, changes wrought by his connection to his dogs, but when he strikes with their power his hands become enveloped in black smoke or fire - and when he teleports, he seems to briefly become more of the same, dissolving into a rolling, insubstantial mess of dark energy. History: Matthew Rivera may have been born and raised in Freedom City, but when his life got turned upside-down it wasn't due to crime or the antics of the super-powered: he and his parents were on the way back from a camping trip when their car, well overdue for too-expensive repairs, sent them careening off the road and down a steep hill. It was, in every possible way, an ordinary, mundane accident befitting of an ordinary, mundane family...and as is so often the case for the mundane and ordinary, Mr. and Mrs. Rivera would never wake up. Their young son fared better, but only just, and he likely would have followed after them if not for some very un-ordinary visitors: a pack of psychopomps, great black dogs of smoke and shadows, had been attracted by the deaths and arrived to escort their souls to where all good souls go to rest. They looked down on the injured child with eyes like burning coals and decided to keep him. By the time help arrived they found only the wreck, two bodies, and a miraculously unhurt ward of the state whose life was no longer mundane. The sum total of his parents' assets barely covered their funeral and burial. The orphanage was kind and wanted only the best for him (or, at least, the best they could afford in that part of town), but young Matt was sleepless, restless; he was quiet, distant, and his increasing age and worsening attitude made it difficult to find him a permanent home. The dogs certainly didn't help - he always seemed to have at least one, often more, great dark things of indistinct breed that always showed up no matter how many times they were thrown out or shut away. Still, his teachers had to grudgingly admit that for all his attitude and truancy, the boy was bright and often well-intentioned - abrasive to authority, yes, but hard-working and protective of the younger children...and with the dogs around, the orphanage had few problems from those gangs heartless enough to cause trouble. And then one day, one would-be graffiti artist got chased off the grounds and swore up and down that one of the dogs had talked and walked through walls. That young man talked to his friend, who told her friend, who was overheard by a hero breaking up a fight - and the right words in the right ear put an invitation to Claremont in an envelope in the mailbox by a charity building down in the Fens. Personality & Motivation: Matthew is taciturn, withdrawn, and frequently dismissive of authority, but he has a strong sense of right and wrong and as much as he might claim to not want to be involved, he has a very hard time sitting on the sidelines when there's action to be taken. He is, in all things, always driven to stand up for the little guy - the innocent, the impoverished, the down-trodden. He's been there, he knows what it's like, and he hates seeing life made worse for those who have already fallen on hard times. He also, unsurprisingly, has a noteworthy soft spot for animals. As a nascent psychopomp and from experience dealing with the dead he has great sympathy for lost souls and the recently deceased. He has precious, precious little for those who try to use their new un-life for personal gain or to manipulate or hurt others. His experience with the dead gives him an almost nihilistic approach to life: so many people die with so many regrets every day, and death holds few answers. But that doesn't mean we just give up trying. Powers & Tactics: Why fight fair when you can fight dirty? Matthew's experience fighting is largely from dealing with street thugs and the occasional unruly specter, and he has absolutely no desire to pull punches with either. Despite his general patience he doesn't like sitting still or peacefully putting up with people he'd much rather be punching in the face, making his tactics straight-forward and unorthodox...albeit not entirely unpredictable. Complications: Death-Aware: Matthew's death awareness does not turn off, ever - his is passively aware of every death in a fairly significant area around him, which wears at his psyche a bit and may cause significant discomfort or distraction if the event being sensed is bad enough in scope or nature. Delinquent: Matthew has a long history of truancy, fights, and a general disrespect for authority in general and the police in particular. He doesn't have a criminal record, yet, but the police who know him assume it's only a matter of time. Don't Touch My Dog: Matthew is very fond of his dogs. Even though they are extremely hard to kill long-term, they're essentially his family and he doesn't take kindly to people being mean to them. Orphaned: Matthew has no family, and few real friends (of the two-legged variety). Raised By Wolves: Having literal dogs for family and a generally withdrawn nature, Matthew tends to lack social grace and patience. Abilities: 6 + 6 + 8 + 2 + 6 + 8 = 36PP Strength: 16 (+3) Dexterity: 16 (+3) Constitution: 18 (+4) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 16 (+3) Charisma: 18 (+4) Combat: 8 + 8 = 16PP Initiative: +7 Attack: +12 Melee, +4 Ranged Grapple: +15 Defense: +10 (+4 Base, +6 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Knockback: -5 Saving Throws: 4 + 5 + 4 = 13PP Toughness: +10 (+4 Con, +6 Protection) Fortitude: +8 (+4 Con, +4) Reflex: +8 (+3 Dex, +5) Will: +7 (+3 Wis, +4) Skills: 80R = 20PP Bluff 3 (+7 / +11) Attractive Craft (Mechanical) 8 (+9) Diplomacy 0 (+4 / +8) Attractive Drive 3 (+6) Intimidate 8 (+12) Notice 10 (+13) Perform (Singing) 12 (+16) Perform (Stringed Instruments) 12 (+16) Sense Motive 5 (+8) Stealth 12 (+15) Survival 7 (+10) Feats: 25PP Attack Focus [Melee] 8 Attractive Dodge Focus 6 Equipment 2 Evasion Fast Task [Startle] Improved Initiative Luck Move-By Action Power Attack Startle Uncanny Dodge [Audio] Equipment: 2PP = 10EP Mid-Size Car (1969 Chevrolet El Camino) [10EP] A gift from a departed ghost who had it under a tarp in a barn - definitely a fixer-upper. Strength: 30 Speed: 5 Defense: 8 Toughness: 10 Size: Huge Features: Alarm, Police Scanner Powers: 12 + 2 + 1 + 1 + 6 + 4 + 2 + 48 + 2 + 7 + 7 + 4 = 96PP Drain Toughness 8 (Feats: Affects Insubstantial 2; Flaws: Limited [Undead]) + Strike 5 (Feats: Mighty) [12PP] Enhanced Feats 2 (Affects Insubstantial 2 [on Strength]) [2PP] Feature (Able to escort the willing dead to their afterlife) [1PP] Leaping 1 (x2) [1PP] Protection 6 [6PP] Regeneration 4 (Recovery Bonus +2; Resurrection 2 [1 day]) [4PP] Speed 2 (25mph, 250' / move) [2PP] Summon Minion 11 (165pp dogs; Feats: Mental Link, Progression 2 (5 dogs), Subtle; Extras: Fanatical, Horde) [48PP] Super-Movement 1 (Trackless) [2PP] Super-Senses 6 (Extended Audio 1 [1], Acute Olfactory [2], Ultra-Hearing [1], Darkvision [2], Vision [Counters Concealment, Limited: Undead] [1]) [7PP] Super-Senses 7 (Death Awareness, Mental [1]; Acute [1], Extended 3 (-1 per ~2 miles) [3], Radius [1], Ranged [1]) [7PP] Teleport 4 (400'; Feats: Change Velocity, Turnabout; Flaws: Short-Range) [4PP] DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 18 Toughness Damage (Physical) Strike Touch DC 18 Fortitude Drain Toughness (Undead Only) + DC 23 Toughness Damage (Physical) Drawbacks: (-1) = -1PP Impoverished [-1PP] Totals: Abilities (36) + Combat (16) + Saving Throws (13) + Skills (20) + Feats (25) + Powers (96) - Drawbacks (1) = 205/243 Power Points