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11th October 2021 7.13am Sanchez's had been in Hardwick for around ten years now, a little café just off Pelecamos Street. Despite the sky-high rent; the business had trundled along by sheer popularity: the food wasn't complicated, but it was good; one of those places where the menu was an inch thick but the chef seemed up to the task. The windows were dusty and grimy, never quite able to get clean, the green paint around the frames flaking and worn to the decaying wood. The interior wasn't especially well lit, the walls painted in a splash of terracotta red, rows of small tables lined against either wall, leaving an alleyway leading to the creaking, worn wooden counter. "Eggs!" came a loud voice from behind the counter, a plate of the breakfast food being set on the ledge of the service hatch. Various commuters and early risers had already begun to filter in, some sitting down to their breakfast, some queuing for coffee, the two waitresses rushing and bustling to serve them with a smile. Osla stood in the line behind a couple of grumbling old gentlemen, sullenly looking to all as if she was ignoring the world. Her Converse were worn and tied loosely, her black jeans ripped at one knee. One hand was thrust into the pocket of a battered black leather jacket, the other hanging loose at her side, a white dressing on the palm, pink with blood in the very centre of it. Her impossibly blonde hair was pulled back in tight braids, pinned to the side of her head in looping coils. It didn't do much to hide the beginnings of blue and black bruise on her forehead. The shipment she'd stopped at the harbour last night had been more heavily guarded than she expected. One of the men clearly had combat experience, and she'd had no choice but to grab his knife. It could have been worse. At least she hadn't been the one being headbutted through a set of broken floorboards. The man at the head of the line filed back out of the store, the bell above the door ringing as he set off into the cool morning, cup of Joe clenched in his hand in a paper cup. Expression unchanging, she went to step forwards, pausing for a moment. One of the waitresses bustled past through the newly formed gap in the line, an apologetic smile on her face and a plate of pancakes in her hand. As soon as she passed, Osla took a step forward, moving along with the line.

OOC thread for https://www.freedomplaybypost.com/topic/13399-the-finest-organic-suspension-ic/ As I said, while there will inevitably be combat, the criminals are inevitably going to be low PL so any actual threat will be to civilians and secret identities.

Bedlam City October 31, 2020 - Sundown "H-hey, how long is this gonna take already?" Robert Meza asked for the dozenth time, fiddling with the expensive looking watch on his wrist and looking about the interrogation room as though he was going to spot something new inside the four dour walls. His chair creaked as he shifted his weight about and his flop sweat made his dark hair fall limply against his forehead. "You got somewhere you'd rather be, Meza? There's the door," Detective Montgomery snapped irritably. Heavyset and red faced he'd left his jacket draped over the back of the chair across from Meza while he paced back and forth in front of the two-way mirror. "The ADA's running late is all. Once she gets your statement, we get you out of the city for a while, like you asked. So until then, just shaddup, yeah?" Meza drew his shoulders together and ducked his head slightly then looked about the room again. "Yeah, yeah, okay. But what's he doing here?" The third man in the room, lounging in a chair in the corner raised an eyebrow over one ice blue eye. "Lucky for you your lawyer knows a police station is a pretty stupid place to go if you wanna avoid anybody on the Mara's payroll," Lou Lubrano replied dryly, smirking in Montgomery's direction. He tugged at the cuffs on his rumpled suit jacket. "Consider me insurance. You like insurance, right Robbie? Firebug like you?" The informant looked away but set his jaw, hands palm down on the table in front of him. "Look, I'm not saying I'm no angel. But I hadda do something this time. Th-they was just kids, y'know? Ain't right." Lubrano's expression remained impassive, partially concealed by his black beard but he paused in silence for a moment. "Yeah, Robbie. I know." A tinny rendition of a cheerful pop tune broke the heavy silence permeating the room. "@#$% ringtone," Montgomery swore as he stomped back to the table and fished a phone out of his jacket pocket. "Yeah?! Of course I'm-- what? You got held up by what?!" With a sudden groan Meza collapsed over the table in front of him, muscles spasming. Lubrano was on his feet in an instant but stopped mid-step at a screeching noise. Mesa's fingernails, suddenly more bestial talons than anything, were carving deep trails in the metal surface. When his head shot up it was with luminous yellow eyes and teeth too large and too sharp for his jaw. He opened his mouth to ask a question but all that came out was a confused growl. He thrashed with another spasm and the table was tossed away from him, torn free of the rusted bolts attaching it to the floor. Montgomery went for his sidearm but was caught in the shoulder by the flying furniture on its way to smash into the two-way mirror, spiderweb cracking but not quite shattering. With tearing polyester, cracking bone and popping watch links Meza's form doubled then tripled in size, becoming a hulking creature covered in dark fur that towered over Lubrano. The beast stumbled froward a step before throwing its head back in a deafening howl, a sound that could be heard faintly echoed through the walls of the police station. Suddenly seized by a need to get away Meza leapt forward, swatting Lubrano aside like a straw dummy and crashing through the mirror in a rain of broken glass. Forcing himself back to his feet and ignoring Montgomery's attempts to free himself from under the dented table, Lubrano looked through the broken pane to see the path the werewolf had torn through the adjoining room and out of the building. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket he shook one loose without looking away and put it unlit between his lips. "...huh."

GM Doctor Adriana Aparo stood in the cemetery outside the Saint Fabian's Catholic church on Stark Hill, holding two bouquets of roses, one red, the other white. She crouched down under the moonlit sky and laid each bouquet down in front of the two tombstones resting in front of her. The white roses, she placed upon the grass in front of "Father Rafael Giordano, Beloved Son, Dear Brother, Good Shepherd". The red roses, she carefully put in front of Rafael's neighbor, "Gaetano Giordano, Beloved Son, Dear Brother, Devoted Husband". Her companion and former sister-in-law, Flora Russo, extended a hand to help her stand back up, and then rested that hand on Adriana's shoulder, squeezing it. The two women exchanged a brief conversation as they lingered over the graves for a couple more minutes. Then Flora took Adriana's hand and walked her out of the cemetery. On their way out, Adriana stopped once, turning to look back over her shoulder. After a few seconds, she turned back and resumed her exit.

GM December 12th, 3 PM Bedlam City, all across town It hadn't happened all at once, but slowly, unrest had begun to spread in Bedlam City. It was small things at first. At first, any paper or print with the initials W.E.B. had been changed to the simple I.G. instead. Random menus at restaurants or fast food places would show different prices than usual. The grades on all papers at Walgrove Prep had been replaced by what appeared to be random fractions. The students revolved, the teachers apologized, but they knew little of what was going on. If it had just been just papers graded by one teacher, it would have made sense, but it was all of them. The first big issue happened on December 10th. The lottery numbers were drawn, and exactly 100 self-proclaimed winners showed up. On closer inspection, all of their tickets had the exact same number. They started a small riot. On December 11th, the workers at Snacktastic all went on strike. By what was announced as a printer error, all paychecks had been made out to the CEO of the company. All attempts to rectify the mistake seemed to produce the same results. The already threadbare city government ground to a complete halt on December 12th, in the early hours of the morning. All papers, all their archives, had been rendered entirely blank. And all animals at Stone Ridge Animal Shelter had the name tags on their cages switched around. Not much in the long run, but one inattentive volounteer was bitten as a result. Similar reports flowed through the city. Anything written could suddenly change, seemingly at random. The would-be heroes and super human element of Bedlam City did not go unaffected. Ronin found the labels on his grandmother's medicine changed. They made little sense anymore. Mister Strix had found all books he read in libraries to be altered, to greater or less degrees. Anything from a different text all together, such as a newspaper showing part of Harry Potter, with several expletives insert, to being complete nonsense or being blank. Lady Horus found that everywhere she went to distribute toys to needy children, the address was instead for the rich and powerful. Clearly, it was those not in need. And Doctor Thorne found Thorne Investigations rebranded as I.G. Investigations. Any notes she had in the office, any books, anything with written words, had the text replaced with the repeated phrase: "I AM YOUR GOD." Would the heroes come together to stop the chaos, follow their own paths, or simply let it be?

Thanksgiving 2018 Nightingale's warehouse Nicci's place had advantages over Anna's - it was bigger, cleaner, and you didn't need to start generators to turn on the lights. It was a good place for Thanksgiving dinner, and so it was tonight. Anna was at the head of the table, her hair up and wearing the pseudo-Victorian dress Nicci liked, looking down at a table that seemed, well, not exactly like her family but was close enough for now. There was Esperanza on one side, her styled hair dyed a mix of red and black that matched her crimson shirt and black dress, Jason across the table, the two of them shooting each other looks like feuding siblings, and Nicci next to Anna herself. Anna had had big plans to make a Honduran Thanksgiving for her sidekick's benefit, but an irritated Esperanza had fired back that her mom had never bothered with that stuff anyway. So instead they had what could optimistically be described as an all-American Thanksgiving; roast turkey and cranberry from the can, stuffing from the box and mashed potatoes from same, and a sweet potato casserole Anna had picked up somewhere that had marshmellows cooked brown on top. Esperanza was eating and not saying much; which was about as good as it got. It was going to be a good day. Anna reached under the table and squeezed Nicci's hand, smiling at her. "Happy Thanksgiving, honey," she said softly. Maybe nothing here was on the menu for Nicci - but she was going to make sure Nicci ate well that night.

Christmas 2018 Dr. Alex Zorka Born 1882, Lugosi, Romania, died 1956, Los Angeles (See Adventures of Centurion #143 - Whatever Happened To - Dr. Zorka?) 'Cause of death - "NO, CENTURION, YOU ARE THE FOOL-" The Nethercutt Collection Los Angeles Anna Cline stood in front of a robot head as large as her entire body, staring sympathetically into closed eyes of bronze and steel. "Hey, you crazy old Hungarian bastard," she said with a smile as she looked at the biggest legacy of the old man who had taught her how to cheat at cards, read super-science gauges, and the proper way to cook goulash. He'd been an old man when she'd known him, which meant he was about a decade younger than she was now. Sixty-two years earlier he'd finally rolled the dice and sent his army of giant robots against the West Coast of the United States - only to perish in an explosion of his own design when the Centurion had intervened. She'd paid the latter back for that a few times, but it didn't make Old Man Zorka anymore alive. She was alone in this wing of the museum, which was sadder even than thinking of Zorka going up in a flash of atomic fire. Sixty-two years after the Robot War, nobody cared. "You'll be glad to know that I've finally living around people from the Old Country again. Not many of us left in Bedlam but we're doin' all right." She sipped the hot chocolate that you weren't technically supposed to have in the museum, but what did she care? "There still ain't nobody like you out there. Well except that Japanese guy Otaku, but like I said last time it's just some kind of, you know, wackadoo thing with him." She waved her hand, then decided to focus on more pleasant things. "Merry Christmas, you crazy old man." She cleared her throat and unfolded from her jacket a short, handwritten prayer that she'd spelled out in phonetic Hungarian. "My dear friends, let's pray for the soul of this poor man, whom Our Lord liberated from the prison of that false world. Whose body we are burying today. To let the Lord place him with his grace into the slay of Abraham, Isac and Jacob, to on the day of judgement, with his relatives, resurrect him..." She was pretty sure that Zorka, who'd been an atheist and kind of a Red when she'd known him, wouldn't have wanted the prayer - but what the Hell. If he popped up to tell her so, that wouldn't be so bad. Randall Schmook Born 1917, South Side died 1982, der Schattenwelt (See Eldrich Adventures #31 - The Amazing End!) Cause of death - soul drained of energy "...so all right," said Anna as she sat in a coffeeshop on the Waterfront, as close as she'd ever been able to get to wherever Eldritch made his home. She'd heard that guy was dead too, as well he might be. "I guess I was a little bit queer back then. That still don't justify all the come-ons, you know. I mean, why would a girl who cut her own hair be more likely to be caught dead with you?" She knew the real answer, because Randall had been kind of a pig and not in the way that she liked a man to be, but he'd been dead a long time now and she was willing to let bygones be bygones, talking to him like she was eighteen again and he was sitting there in front of her. "You'd like Nicci. She's a real firecracker, and she knows her spells and fairies and stuff." She sipped her new cup of hot chocolate, stirring it with a candy cane. "Why couldn't that bastard have even brought your body back home?" she murmured to herself, glad that the Christmas crowd in the coffeeshop was such that nobody ever actually looked her way. "Eaten by shadowstuff my ass, at least he could have given us something to bury. The man could pull a rabbit out of his hat that shot lasers from its eyes and traveled in goddamned time, the least he could do is not leave you there in the cold and the dark." Randall had gotten a little crazy as he'd gotten older and his magic had faded, and had turned to some really bad places to get them back, and he'd died of it - but wasn't it a hero's job to save everybody, not just the people he'd liked? Ted Daniel Born 1925, West End, died 1990, New York City (See Smoke Out Tobacco #2) Cause of death - lung cancer, exposure Hart Island, New York City It was cold in New York City's Potter's Field, cold enough that Anna was keeping herself warm inside a thick down jacket as she sat by a grave in the middle of a row of graves. She could faintly hear Christmas music from somewhere else on the island, some place where mourners actually gave a damn - but here, by the grave of a pauper who'd been dead almost thirty years, nobody gave a damn except her. Ted had died when she'd been locked up - if she'd been free, she could have gotten him off the sauce, and maybe on some real medicine, and maybe gotten him to stop smoking so goddamned much - "I'm still keeping up my exercises. I run fifty miles a day when I'm not working, and it's more like five thousand on the days when I'm workin'." She'd certainly run her ass off this Christmas long weekend. "And I cut out fried foods and most of your red meats, which if you ask me is a damn Christmas miracle seeing as how I'm livin' in the heart of dairy country these days." She rubbed her hands together to warm them, then commented, "I can still feel the years catchin' up, though. I can barely break the damn sound barrier these days and I'm so...old." She shoved her hand under her hood and ran fingers through blonde hair that was about halfway dyed these days. She knew she was being vain, she knew she looked thirty-some years younger than her actual age - but still. But still. The second-to-last man she'd slept with had called her Grandma at an intimate moment - which was maybe one reason why she'd had a dry spell before Set, and then Nicci. Robert Vaughn, Born 1934 , Freedom City, died 1993, Freedom City (See Terminus Crisis #3 - It All Ends Here!) Cause of death - killed by an Omegadrone "I'm sorry, Bobby." This was a grave lovingly attended by a family that had cared about its patriarch, one who had died before his 60th birthday when a monster from another dimension had shoved a pike through his head and murdered him in his front yard. Bobby Vaughn hadn't even had his powers in forty-some years before that day. "I'm sorry I flirted with you when you didn't want me to, I'm sorry I thought it was funny when we turned ya into the Caveman." She ran her fingers over the marble, remembering when Vaughn's surviving daughter had chased her away from the front door with a gun. Well she'd deserved all that, hadn't she? "I thought it was funny and I liked that you would do whatever I wanted, but it wasn't right." She sighed softly. "I was just a kid. And so were you." It was a good thing, in retrospect, that she'd viewed the Teenage Caveman as her personal puppy rather than the romantic partner he'd wanted to be. In retrospect, well, that was the sort of thing her soul didn't need on it. She was already tainted enough. 'Your grandson's doing real fine. I hear he's gonna make Captain soon, if the Internet's tellin' me the truth." She closed her eyes, and suddenly wished more than anything that on the day the world had been ending, she'd gone to check on the people she'd cared about before she'd run away. But then she'd had those particular regrets for a long time... Brian Nisbet Born 1923, Lincoln died 2018, Freedom City (See Lady Horus #15 - The Bee-All and End-All) Cause of death - Stage IV pancreatic cancer It was snowing now, and she was cold, but she didn't care. "I just feel like it's all slipping away, Brian. Bryant's dead, my boy's got his own life, my grandkids are like somebody from another planet half the time..." She ran her fingers through blonde hair dappled with thick, wet flakes, and remembered the months of watching Brian slip away whenever she could make the run from Bedlam. "I'm doing what I can for these kids in Bedlam but I look at myself in the mirror and I'm just some old broad with a magic hat trying to keep it together and I'm scared to death half the damn time..." She scrubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, cursing her weakness as she held back her tears. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to be doing..." She leaned back against the gravestone, closed her eyes, and just about jumped out of her skin when she heard a familiar voice. "Hey, Ma." She gave a short, embarassing yelp, and looked up to see her son standing by her side, two mugs of freshly-brewed, still-steaming hot cocoa in his hand. He was wearing a leather jacket, and had a woolen hat slung over his arm as he sat next to her on the frozen ground. Wordlessly, he handed her both hat and mug, then put his arm around her. "...Dickie, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked, giving him a baffled look. "You're supposed to be with yer family on Christmas Eve." "I am with my family on Christmas Eve," Richard told her firmly. 'And in a couple of minutes, we're gonna head for Port Regal and we're gonna put our feet up. It's too damn cold for you to be out here." "I'm payin' my respects to the dearly departed," said Anna stubbornly. "Even if they were just a bunch of low-life and thugs." And some of the best friends I ever had. "They were family. And you never give up on family," said her son mildly. Giving her a more searching look, he said, "I know you're doing something. You don't have to talk about it, or think about it, but...is it right?" She hesitated just a moment, watching his breath frost in the cold air, and suddenly remembered holding him, wet and bloody, back when he'd been the only thing in her life, and she'd been the only thing in his. "It's the best I can, Dickie." Richard Cline kissed his mother on the forehead. "I love you, Ma." "I love you too, Dickie. Merry Christmas."

Stark Hill July 12, 2018 The world was on fire. But it took a long time for the ashes to reach some places. While the sky bled crimson and the towers of the capes burned off on the East Coast, Bedlam was in a state of gridlock. There was doomsaying, but only at a somewhat greater pitch at any other day. The Mayor had already talked about getting the National Guard ready to deploy, but word was the Governor was holding off until there was tangible evidence that the threat had gotten beyond Lake Erie - and even then, odds were he would be much more interested in anywhere that wasn't Bedlam. The Special Assault Squad was in the streets in force, but they seemed to be taking their exercise dealing with desperate and fervid individuals hoping to take advantage of an all-you-can-grab, end-of-the-world sale. And so, the morning of July 12 dawned in Stark Hill as it had any other day. With the blood being hosed into the gutters, with the rise of an oppressive heat fed by the winds off of Lake Michigan, with Obedieh Brick on the 12th hour of "BREAKING NEWS," screaming about the need to grab the biggest gun one could and use it as the ultimate deterrent against the death gods from outer space. The haze and the fury was growing, but it was the same haze and fury as might be expected as Bedlam approached the dog days of summer. That is, until the brownstone on 3rd Street was cut in half. Those who were nearby would say it started as a "flash of black light," a half-second glimmer of palpable darkness. Curiosity turned to panic as the sound of crumbling brick and creaking steel filled the air, as gravity took hold on the building and rent it like a hunk of bread, causing it to list and tilt towards the buildings at either side. And from within, there was still that glimpse of brilliant darkness...

GM 19th April, 2018 The rain started coming down in the early afternoon and it had not stopped. It was a hot, heavy rain in a hot, heavy city. Frank Slate, Bedlam City Detective, was investigating a murder. He was an old dog, tough and weathered, his experience making him both competent and cynical. Another dead body in Bedlam City, and he hardly raised an eyebrow. Just another job. The woman had been crushed, it seemed. But by what? She wasn't talking, and could any forensic scientist make sense of the pulp that was her bones? It was doubtful she had a bone left in her cold dead corpse that had not been broken. Her body had been found in Gravewood Iron Foundy, just outside of Bedlam. It had an awful track record for safety, but nobody had ever turned up like this mess. Possibly it was an industrial accident, but nobody was talking, and Frank couldn't see any loose machinery. "Hell, what do I know anyway?" he grumbled to himself. Word spread fast in Bedlam. And maybe somebody who did know would help...

Player Name: AvengerAssembled Character Name: Lady Horus Power Level: 10 (150/168) Trade-Offs: +2 Defense/-2 Toughness, -4 ATK/+4DMG [as Lady Horus] Unspent Power Points: 18 No More Statuses: 0/0 In Brief: Lo, the Sunhawk returns for a new generation! But there are secrets. Homebase: Bedlam City Songs: "True Colors," Kesha "Meant to Live," Switchfoot Alternate Identity: "Wouldn't you like to know?" Identity: Secret Birthplace: Bedlam City, Wisconsin Occupation: Adventurer Affiliations: Various Family: "Just look it up in the books!" Age: Stories of Horus go back around 4 millennia. Gender: Female Height: 5'9" Weight: 150 lbs Eyes: Blue Hair: Platinum blonde Description: It's clear Lady Horus is probably not Egyptian by birth - most Egyptian women of any generation have not been fair-skinned platinum blondes, for all that her hair hangs in the curly ringlets in fashion in the New Kingdom. But other that she certainly looks the part - her costume consists of a gold-beaded white linen kalasiri that hangs loosely on her frame and comes down just below her knees, white bodice, white shawl over that, the cloth reinforced with polished bronze pieces that sparkle like the sun, all adorned with the gold and jewels of an Egyptian noblewoman. On her head is the blue khepresh of a pharaoh at war. She should probably not be able to see! The upper part of her face is covered by a gold and blue half-mask of a hawk, decorated in the Egyptian style, the mask itself resting on the lower part of her nose. Yet she does seem to be able to see just fine, thank you. When not wearing the Helm, she looks like . History: Lo! The Sunhawk has returned to the World of Man - as a woman! Lady Horus appeared in Bedlam over the Christmas holiday but has already made herself notable as the city's loudest and toughest protector. In a town of grim avengers of evil, criminal vigilantes and vigilante criminals, she's the biggest action in the city. Before she donned the Helm, she . Personality and Motivation: Lady Horus has the charisma of her predecessor (and the habit of showboating in combat) but evidently a different personality - she's more inclined to mock and belittle the failings of her opponents rather than call them out as a fellow warrior. She's more close-mouthed than her predecessor as well, talking little about the origins of her powers and what has brought her to Bedlam, generally spinning the question around to one about the welfare of the person she's speaking to. She likes kids and pets - is tolerant of certain kinds of crime but despises those who exploit others, particularly those who are hostile towards women and children. When angry, her accent 'slips' and she shouts in a gutter argot unfamiliar to the average citizen of Bedlam, sounding more like a 1930s cartoon character than the sometimes-Shakespearean Sunhawk. Without the Helm, she . Powers and Tactics: Lady Horus is faster and more agile than her masculine counterpart, wielding the Ankh of Horus with a frenetic energy that speaks more to the kineticism of a young sunhawk at war rather than the brute strength of the Avenger of old. That said she seems to be less creative with her powers than her predecessor - generally striking with mighty blows of her ankh while weaving in and out of combat, occasionally blasting foes or pummeling them with great strength. She has manifested some abilities denied to her predecessor - in particular teleportation, self-healing, and invisibility. Without the Helm, she . Complications: Fake!: Lady Horus is not the same person as the old Horus - a source of resentment for many, both divine and otherwise. Help Me Out Here, Sister: Much of Lady Horus' knowledge of the gods of Egypt comes from the spirit of Nephthys, the Lady of the Mansion. But Nephthys, or rather the fragment of her embedded in the Helm, has her own agenda and often keeps her own counsel - and has her own feelings towards the woman who wears the Helm of Horus. Hey, That's Mine!: When deprived of her Helm, Lady Horus reverts back to her normal self within the space of 1 minute. Not So Tough: Lady Horus lacks much of the physical prowess of her illustrious predecessor. Who Are You?: The mystery of exactly who Lady Horus is remains just that. Complications relating to her life without the Helm are at the discretion of the GM. Abilities: 0 + 4 + 4 + 0 + 4 + 2 = 14PP STR 26/10 (+8/+0) DEX 14 (+2) CON 14 (+2) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 20/12 (+5/+1) Combat: 8 + 8 = 16PP Init: +22/+2 ATK: +4 (+6 Ankh/+10) DEF: +12 (+8 Dodge Focus, +4 Base, +2 flat-footed) Grapple: +4/+17 Knockback: -7/-1 Saves: 3 + 6 + 3 = 12PP TOU +8/+2 (+2 Con, +6 Protection [8 Impervious]) FORT +5 (+2 Con, +3) REF +8 (+2 Wis, +6) WILL +5 (+2 Wis, +3) Skills: 44R=11PP Bluff 6 (+7/+11) Disable Device 5 (+5) Escape Artist 6 (+8) Knowledge (History) 5 (+5) Knowledge (Theology and Philosophy) 2 (+2) Languages 2 (Ancient Egyptian, Arabic, Base: English) Notice 6 (+8) Sense Motive 6 (+8) Stealth 6 (+8) Feats: 15PP Dodge Focus 8 Eidetic Memory Evasion Fearless Move-By Action Taunt Ultimate Save (Will) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 45 + 1 + 1 + 32 + 2 = 82PP Device 11 (Helm of Horus, Flaw: Hard to Lose, 55PP, PF: Restricted [Those Chosen By The Gods]) [45PP] Enhanced Charisma 8 (to CHA 20/+5) [8DP] Feature 1 (Advice from Nepthys) [1DP] Immunity 3 (aging, disease, poison) [3DP] Ankh Array 13 (26PP, PFs: Accurate, Alternate Powers 2) [29DP] BE: Flight 5 (250 MPH) {10} + Strike 14 (PFs: Improved Crit 1, Takedown Attack 1) {16} {10+16=26} AP: Blast 14 (Extra: Penetrating 10 [as DMG 24], Flaw: Action [Full], PFs: Improved Crit 1, Variable Descriptor 1 [any light]) {26/26} AP: Enhanced STR 16 (to STR 26/+8) {16} + Super-Strength 5 (Effective STR 50, Heavy Load 12 tons) {10} {16+10=26/26} Protection 6 (Extra: Impervious 8) [14DP] No peeking if you aren't a Ref! And no snitching! -AA costs Abilities (14) + Combat (16) + Saves (12) + Skills (11/44) + Feats (15) + Powers (82) = 150/168 pts

Player Name: AvengerAssembled Character Name: Lady Horus Power Level: 10/12 (177/181) Trade-Offs: +2 Defense/-2 Toughness, -4 ATK/+4DMG [as Lady Horus] Unspent Power Points: 4 No More Statuses: 0/0 In Brief: Lo, the Sunhawk returns for a new generation! But there are secrets. Homebase: Bedlam City Songs: "True Colors," Kesha "Meant to Live," Switchfoot "Hurt," Johnny Cash "God's Gonna Cut You Down," Johnny Cash "Calendar Girl," Neil Sedeka Alternate Identity: "Wouldn't you like to know?" Identity: Secret Birthplace: Bedlam City, Wisconsin Occupation: Adventurer Affiliations: Various Family: "Just look it up in the books!" - Son, Richard Cline, Daughter-in-Law Paige Psion-Cline, Grandkids (2.5...maybe?) Age: Stories of Horus go back around 4 millennia/eighty-four this year. Gender: Female Height: 5'9" Weight: 150 lbs Eyes: Blue Hair: Platinum blonde Description: It's clear Lady Horus is probably not Egyptian by birth - most Egyptian women of any generation have not been fair-skinned platinum blondes, for all that her hair hangs in the curly ringlets in fashion in the New Kingdom. But other that she certainly looks the part - her costume consists of a gold-beaded white linen kalasiri that hangs loosely on her frame and comes down just below her knees, white bodice, white shawl over that, the cloth reinforced with polished bronze pieces that sparkle like the sun, all adorned with the gold and jewels of an Egyptian noblewoman. On her head is the blue khepresh of a pharaoh at war. She should probably not be able to see! The upper part of her face is covered by a gold and blue half-mask of a hawk, decorated in the Egyptian style, the mask itself resting on the lower part of her nose. Yet she does seem to be able to see just fine, thank you. When not wearing the Helm, she looks like an attractive older woman who keeps herself healthy through vigorous running; slender and healthy, with hair she'd begun to actually dye blonde because her natural shade of platinum looks too much like the grey it really is. She favors jogging suits and other outfits suitable for both anonymity and fast running, and usually is wearing a pair of old-fashioned running shoes. When she does get a chance to dress up, she favors bright gold jewelry that's just this side of tacky and bright red pumps. History: Lo! The Sunhawk has returned to the World of Man - as a woman! Lady Horus appeared in Bedlam over the Christmas holiday back in 2016 but has already made herself notable as the city's loudest and toughest protector. In a town of grim avengers of evil, criminal vigilantes and vigilante criminals, she's the biggest action in the city. Before she donned the Helm, she was a lovable rogue. No, she was a cold-hearted monster. No, she was a loving mother. No, she was an irresponsible adrenaline junkie. Anna Cline has been all these things, and more, in her long life (she turns eighty-four this year!). She ran wild as a teenager, becoming Calendar Girl - one of the last true supervillains of the 1950s. Empowered by the chronitons her body had absorbed from a childhood encounter with Dr. Tomorrow, she fought Midnight and the Centurion before disappearing into the future - a future where she met Dr. Tomorrow! She spent a few months as one of his companions, traveling through time and space with him, learning the true extent of her powers and what it meant to have a connection to Time itself. And then they landed in the early 1960s, and she realized how Tomorrow had betrayed her - while she'd been going on adventures in time and space, her estranged mother and father had died in the Olympian Invasion. The so-called heroes had taken all the glory, but had they been there? No! Had she been there, playing at hero? No! She cursed Tomorrow's name and ran; and didn't stop running until she ran into some old friends who were forming a new organization - the Crime League of the 1960s! She made a new friend there; Bryant Haliday, and for a little while Calendar Girl and Doc Holiday were partners in crime, and more. And then she was pregnant, and Bryant left her. Was she an unnatural mother to make sure her son was born with powers like hers, exposing him to temporal radiation even in the womb? Was it so bad for her to support herself and her son in the only way she knew how - to reinvent herself as Clock Queen, the mistress of time and crime, and battle everyone from Doctor Tomorrow to her personal arch-nemesis - the Centurion (aka "The Golden Gargoyle!")? Her family was dead and the heroes would take her son away if they caught her. So she made sure they never did, at least not for long. She had to do some things that weren't too pretty; but she never killed anyone or was part of any plans about killing, and if she was around killers, well - that wasn't her problem! It was the heroes' job to stop the so-called villains, wasn't it? When her son was old enough, he joined her as Tempus Fugit and she truly couldn't have been prouder. Her son had a girlfriend from those crazy Psions - but what the hell, maybe they'd pull it off and she'd get to preside over another generation of people like her. But times were a-changing, the 1970s turning into the 1980s. Bowman got drunk and quit?! Whatever happened to class? Horus defeated Set and imprisoned him? Man, she liked Set. And then came the museum robbery - the police closed in, now with power nullifiers (where the hell had they gotten _those_?) and one put a gun to her son's head to make her surrender. She cut him after that, charges they added to the many, many still on the books for Clock Queen, and when she realized her friends had abandoned her and her son she was left with an inescapable problem. Richard Cline turned eighteen years old two days after his arrest. Freedom City juries hated If he was tried as an adult, he'd be in jail for twenty years. So what does a mother do? Anna took all the blame herself, spinning a tale of child endangerment and abuse, one that got her son held until he turned twenty-one and then freed (to a criminal career she happily followed) - and one that, between this and that and the other thing, got her a sentence of twenty-five to life. She spent the 1980s in Blackstone and the 1990s in Blackstone too, even coming back after a few happy days of freedom after the Terminus Invasion, knowing that her incarceration was what kept her son from being jailed for the rest of his life if he was ever caught. She was immensely surprised to be freed the first time she was up for parole. The Centurion, dead now for years, had left a message in her file - a statement on behalf of her character, urging that she be allowed to rejoin society. That was a hell of a thing. By the time she was out, her son was married and settled down. She drifted for years after that - she couldn't go back to her old ways without endangering the life her son and new daughter-in-law had built, not without hurting the grandkids she adored. She wasn't going to sell out and be a hero, that was for damn sure - but what else was she supposed to do with herself? She lived on the money her son sent, and selling a few items she'd saved over the years, and maybe stealing now and again - acutely aware of a reality that her long time in prison had made absolutely acute. She was old, and getting older. She wasn't immune to aging as she'd often thought, it just happened more slowly to her than it did and the reality that the immortals she knew were this close to dancing on her grave became an ever-heavier weight balanced on her soul. Then, a couple of years ago, what was supposed to be one last job turned out to be a brush with divinity - with unexpected consequences. . Personality and Motivation: Lady Horus has the charisma of her predecessor (and the habit of showboating in combat) but evidently a different personality - she's more inclined to mock and belittle the failings of her opponents rather than call them out as a fellow warrior. She's more close-mouthed than her predecessor as well, talking little about the origins of her powers and what has brought her to Bedlam, generally spinning the question around to one about the welfare of the person she's speaking to. She likes kids and pets - is tolerant of certain kinds of crime but despises those who exploit others, particularly those who are hostile towards women and children. When angry, her accent 'slips' and she shouts in a gutter argot unfamiliar to the average citizen of Bedlam, sounding more like a 1930s cartoon character than the sometimes-Shakespearean Sunhawk. Without the Helm, she's not actually that different - just more tired. She can feel her time running out but she does her best to make sure no one can tell she knows. Powers and Tactics: Lady Horus is faster and more agile than her masculine counterpart, wielding the Ankh of Horus with a frenetic energy that speaks more to the kineticism of a young sunhawk at war rather than the brute strength of the Avenger of old. That said she seems to be less creative with her powers than her predecessor - generally striking with mighty blows of her ankh while weaving in and out of combat, occasionally blasting foes or pummeling them with great strength. She has manifested some abilities denied to her predecessor - in particular teleportation, self-healing, and invisibility. Without the Helm, she fights dirty - staying invisible as long as possible, hitting from behind, and otherwise doing whatever it takes to survive. The years may be catching up but she is still entirely capable of outfighting SWAT officers or even low-level metahumans, especially if her goal is just to run away and find the Helm (which it usually is). Complications: Anna, No!: Anna YES Fake!: Lady Horus is not the same person as the old Horus - a source of resentment for many, both divine and otherwise. Grandma: Not all of Anna's opinions have kept up with her age. Help Me Out Here, Sister: Much of Lady Horus' knowledge of the gods of Egypt comes from the spirit of Nephthys, the Lady of the Mansion. But Nephthys, or rather the fragment of her embedded in the Helm, has her own agenda and often keeps her own counsel - and has her own feelings towards the woman who wears the Helm of Horus. Hey, That's Mine!: When deprived of her Helm, Lady Horus reverts back to her normal self within the space of 1 minute. Long Past? Your Past: Anna Cline's life is on the record - and the record is not so cheerful. Not So Tough: Lady Horus lacks much of the physical prowess of her illustrious predecessor. Who Are You?: The mystery of exactly who Lady Horus is remains just that - at least to most. )$% @#$* *& @ !#$%*: Lady Horus's greatest antagonists are the Hammer of Justice and Stabbo the Clown. Also kind of the Centurion. Abilities: 0 + 4 + 4 + 0 + 4 + 2 = 14PP STR 26/10 (+8/+0) DEX 14 (+2) CON 14 (+2) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 20/12 (+5/+1) Combat: 8 + 8 = 16PP Init: +2 / +22 with Super Speed ATK: +4 (+6 Ankh/+10 Super-Speed) DEF: +12 (+8 Dodge Focus, +4 Base, +2 flat-footed) Grapple: +4/+17 Knockback: -8/-1 Saves: 3 + 6 + 3 = 12PP TOU +8/+2 (+2 Con, +6 Protection [8 Impervious]) FORT +5 (+2 Con, +3) REF +8 (+2 Wis, +6) WILL +5 (+2 Wis, +3) Skills: 48R=12PP Bluff 10 (+11/+15) Disable Device 5 (+5) Escape Artist 6 (+8) Knowledge (History) 5 (+5) Knowledge (Theology and Philosophy) 2 (+2) Languages 2 (Ancient Egyptian, Arabic, Base: English) Notice 6 (+8) Sense Motive 6 (+8) Stealth 6 (+8) Feats: 42PP Dodge Focus 8 Eidetic Memory Equipment 3 (Headquarters Old Main) Evasion Fearless Move-By Action Sidekick 24 (Wadjet) Taunt Ultimate Save (Will) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Equipment: Belchner College's Old Main: [Size: Huge; Toughness: 15; Features: Communications, Computer, Concealed (2), Infirmary, Laboratory, Library, Living Space, Power System, Security System] [15EP] A few people who work at Belchner College remember the good old days. Belchner has never been the most prestigious institution in Wisconsin, but it spent decades attracting students from all over the northeastern part of the Badger State. Then came That Guy - the president they don't name, with his friends on the Board of Trustees, and his ties to the city's 'business community', and the way secretaries had to go into his office in pairs. That was when faculty started deserting, when alumni stopped donating, and when the students began to realize they could do whatever the hell they wanted. Old Main is from the good old days - a three story brick building covered in gargoyles, actually the first building on campus built back in the late 1880s. It had classrooms and the library, a chemistry lab, even a small museum down in the basement full of artifacts donated by wealthy alumni The building's been boarded up since a few years into That Guy's reign as President - he was sure students wanted a bigger gym and skating rink, and he was sure they didn't want to waste time in an "old dump" like this. There were plans to demolish the place but then a small group of alumni sued the president for threatening a college landmark, then a few years into _that_ suit the college turned out to be running deep in the red; and then the president fled the country ahead of an arrest warrant... The college spent some time dumping things they didn't need anymore - microfilm readers, desktop computers that were supposed to be replaced with free student iPads, the various detritus of a college in the midst of a transition. From the outside it's a sad building, covered in graffiti, its windows boarded up where they're not broken, its doors boarded up too; the dying grass on its little plot full of cigarette butts and beer cans. Inside, the first floor still looks like Hell - but the second floor is full of superheroes! Lady Horus (aka Anna Cline) and Wadjet (aka Esperanza Azul) have been living here for the last few months, having moved in during the college's Christmas holiday. They've fixed things up - the library, the chemistry labs, the computers, Anna acquiring things for her protege's genius to put to good use. There's no central heat, but cunningly-concealed solar panels on the roof provide electricity, and luckily the water systems in the college are indifferently run enough that they were able to get running water in the building. Anna's lived in worse places. And this is a place Esperanza built. It's a good place to fight a war. The Hammer of Justice hasn't found them...yet. Powers: 45 + 1 + 1 + 32 + 2 = 81PP Device 11 (Helm of Horus, Flaw: Hard to Lose, 55PP, PF: Restricted [Those Chosen By The Gods]) [45PP] Enhanced Charisma 8 (to CHA 20/+5) [8DP] Feature 1 (Advice from Nepthys) [1DP] Immunity 3 (aging, disease, poison) [3DP] Ankh Array 13 (26PP, PFs: Accurate, Alternate Powers 2) [29DP] BE: Flight 5 (250 MPH) {10} + Strike 14 (PFs: Improved Crit 1, Takedown Attack 1) {16} {10+16=26} AP: Blast 14 (Extra: Penetrating 10 [as DMG 24], Flaw: Action [Full], PFs: Improved Crit 1, Variable Descriptor 1 [any light]) {26/26} AP: Enhanced STR 16 (to STR 26/+8) {16} + Super-Strength 5 (Effective STR 50, Heavy Load 12 tons) {10} {16+10=26/26} Protection 6 (Extra: Impervious 8 ) [14DP] Feature 1 (Temporal Inertia) [1PP]Immunity 1 (aging, Extra: Affects Others, Flaw: Limited [Half-Effect]) [1PP]Super-Speed 5 (Speed 5 [250 MPH/2500 ft per round], +20 Init, Quickness 5 (x50), 10PP array, PFs: Accurate 3, Alternate Powers 4) [32PP] BE: Concealment 10 (all senses, Flaw: Passive) {10/10}AP: Damage 4 (Extra: Autofire, PFs: Improved Crit 2) {10/10}AP: Damage 4 (Extras: Area [Targeted, Shapeable], Selective], Flaw: Action [Full], PFs: Improved Crit 2) {10/10}AP: Healing 2 (Extra: Total, Flaw: Personal) {10/10}AP: Teleport 3 (300 ft) (Extra: Accurate, Affects Others, Flaw: Short-Range Only, PF: Turnabout) {10/10} Super-Movement 2 (Wall-Crawling, Water-Walking, Flaw: Limited [Only While Moving]) [2PP] costs Abilities (14) + Combat (16) + Saves (12) + Skills (12/48) + Feats (42) + Powers (81) = 177/181 pts

"When you're done, clean the place up and you can leave." Aliya nodded to the receding hairline of Paul Hamm as he walked away before looking back to the few young girls who still had the twinkle of dreams in their eyes. She envied their innocence as their pigtails and braids flipped and twirled while the girls practiced dismounts from the balance beam. There had likely been a time in her life where she looked much like them, although she couldn't recall it; the past clouded with broken promises and ambitions. "Miss M?" a four foot ball of energy in a blindingly pink leotard stepped up to her. "What is wanting Susan?" she said, her still noticeable Russian accent making the name sound more like Zhusan. "There is a lady at the front, she is looking for you." Alyia smiled at the young girl, "thanking for letting know. Will go see of this woman. Now, run to work the splits. Needing to be much more flexibles." As Susan ran off to the mats, she walked to the small counter that served as the office for 'Bounding Dreams' perhaps one of the saddest gymnastics clubs she had ever been in. That she now worked here made that fact even worse. The equipment was decades old, most of the lockers were inoperable, it was amazing that the lights even worked given how little money the place generated. No, Bounding Dreams was just that, another whimsical notion that had faded like the aging paint on the walls. It was so likely that someone was here to collect on something that the insolvent business couldn't pay out on that she was already speaking as she rounded the corner, "Mr. Hamm is not being here this times. Perhaps if needing pays, can come back to other time?"

Okay, @BlazingCoconut, let me know if this is okay! And if it is, gimmie initiative!

GM All Over the City Bedlam City, Wisconsin Wednesday, February 1st, 2017 5:30 PM Although it was a day away, Bedlam City was beginning to feel a whole lot like Groundhog's Day. No, there weren't any furry little creatures predicting the future from the comfort of their little burrows. No, much like Phil Connors the entire city was caught in an endless loop. The denizens of Bedlam found themselves sharing a recurring nightmare for the past week. A deep voice bellowing that "She be brought to him." Egyptian imagery and other incomprehensible babble about scorpions flooding their minds. Before returning to the waking nightmare that was life in Bedlam. Suffice to say, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who cared about the going ons in Freedom City. The Atlantean King's announcement went under the radar as the sleepless city grew concerned with local worries. With the noted exception of Dr. Stoppleman, Curator of the Bedlam Museum whose live podcast came to an abrupt stop in the middle of streaming, the distinct sound of glass breaking and furniture being thrown around the last things viewers heard.

Ok AA and Cape, tag here!

Nancy Street, Oct. 17th 10:47PM It was a relatively quiet night on Nancy street. Gunfire could be heard in the distance, a woman's scream, a child crying, the sounds of domestic disturbances and aggravated assaults, and of course after the screams faded to whimpers, the sounds of sirens. All in all, a quiet night in comparison to most. The rain had started to fall on Bedlam City, doing it's level best to wash the grime and the muck and the human refuse away. To leave the world clean and new again. Bedlam, and Nancy street in particular, would not be so easily swept away. It's stain marked the states, the world, a dark black spot on a hardwood floor that refused to come up no matter how much you scrubbed. Bedlam was the reminder of mistakes past, of wrongs done, of lives lost. A strange sound over the din of inequity peeled through the air of Nancy street. The church bells started to ring. No mass anyone knew of was taking place, it was no holiday, it was not quite midnight. The crystal clang of that pure sound seemed both off and ominous, and many lights turned on in the houses and tenements, this sound above all others piqueing the curiosity of the jaded residents. As the bells faded there was a knock on Ronin's door. Downtown Bedlam Abandoned Mill It was a quiet and dark place that Victor popped into, stepping out of the shadows. This was not part of his contract with the Scarpias, but old habits died hard, and he needed to destroy something... precious. No one was in at the moment, as he had made sure, it wasn't time for justice to be meted out, it was time for the chase. Victor laid the parchment he brought on a dresser and pinned it in place with a dagger, it's hilt in the style of a rose dripping blood, the symbol of his old Order. The parchment read: The Church on Nancy Street. Come find me, or I find those you hold dear. There was no signature. Victor smiled again as he melted back in the shadows. The petty thugs might be upset that he was bringing an uninvited guest, but he cared little. They were nothing, he did work for them to pay bills, so he could do his real Work. The game had begun.

Initiative time!

Okay, initiative time: Lady Horus: 35 Stabbo the Clown: 34 Nightingale: 28 Thugs: 7 Lady Horus: Move Action 1: Enter the bedroom and return (interrupted w/Move-By Action) Move Action 2: Don her Lady Horus helm and transform Free Action: Activate Concealment 10 She'll surge (and hold her action), readying an attack vs. anything that attacks Esperanza Stabbo the Clown: Move Action: Enter the kitchen! Free Action: Activates Concealment Standard Action: he'll prepare a standard action to attack Lady Horus when she appears! Nightingale is up as soon as I post IC!

May 10, 2017 Wolverton Bedlam City Black Rose Detective Agency 9AM A god kicked in the door not long after opening. Lady Horus flew into the Black Rose Detective Agency with speed fast enough to send loose papers flying everywhere, then kicked the door shut behind her with equal alacrity. "Lo!" she called in that oddly resonant voice that was familiar both from the television and to the local residents of the Wolverton/Hardwick Park area - "where is thy doctor? This girl needs care!" In her arms, or rather, wrapped in her white and gold cape was a battered-looking young woman in the torn remnants of a super-costume - the darkly complected Hispanic girl looked like she'd taken a heavy beating from somebody.

February 14, 2017 http://bedlam-maniac.tumblr.com/post/157056952707/hardwick-park-crazyshit (CN: Violence, Bright Lights, Disturbing Imagery Video Description: A blonde woman in Egyptian-style garb is standing in the middle of a run-down looking playground. A badly-beaten man is laying on the ground at her feet - and behind him, a small group of frightened gang-bangers are making a pile of guns, knives, and various drugs they seem to have been carrying on their persons. We can't see her face, but her voice crackles with supernatural power as she declares, "Lo, villains! Never again will you market thy poisoned goods in Hardwick Park!" She reaches behind her back and pulls from nothing a glowing Egyptian ankh - which she then plunges into the pile of guns and drugs at her feet. In a flare of light, the contraband vanishes. "This block is guarded by Lady Horus herself! Now begone, and find you honest work! Show pride in thy home!" She turns and addresses the camera directly, her voice calming a little, as the men run. "Didst you get all that, girl? Good. Send it to every teenager in this city!" )

January 10, 2017 Bedlam City Hall Downtown It was one of those too-bright January days when the sun is shining down from a clear blue sky that makes it look downright inviting outside, - until you step out into the teeth of an Upper Midwest winter. Snow was piled everywhere, thick and dirty, as usual in Bedlam at this time of year. The meteor hit with a flash of light and roar of noise, striking the decaying pavement directly in front of Bedlam's equally-mouldering City Hall. The few squatters living in the building, and the odd passerby on their way to the County Courthouse down the block, recovered from the impact and blinding light with difficulty, rubbing their eyes and blinking as the glow at the center of the crater faded. Inside was a man - no, not a man at all! Standing inside the crater was a hulking figure in bizarrely-colored robes like something from a lurid Egyptian-set melodrama - but the thing inside was no actor. Towering some nine feet in height, its scaly reptilian skin, narrow head, and long, wicked-looking fangs suggested not a man at all but some sort of horrible;..Serpent-Man! Hefting high a glowing staff that crackled with unspeakable eldritch power, the snake-man hissed "At lassst! I have essscaped the bonds of Ra'ssss infernal prissson!" The snake-man gestured with his staff and serpents began to wriggle their way impossibly out of the cracked winter pavement at his feet. "Behold, brief mortalsss! The Scion of Set hasss returned to rule the landsss of men!" Then a laugh sounded, not far above his head - and seemingly from out of the sun itself, emerged a new figure - her face hidden by a hawk-faced mask, her head covered in a Pharonic crown, her body wrapped in gold and linen like an Egyptian queen out of legend, she clutched in her hand the glowing ankh of Horus! (To her recollection, the Sunhawk had never actually visited "the mistake by the lake") She laughed again, her thick golden ringlets shaking with mirth. Of the snake man and his serpent minions, some of whom were growing to humanoid size and shape, she showed no fear at all. "Fool! Set is as barren as the desert sands! Thou are but a craven ill-breeding lewdster - a castoff of Apep who apes the Serpent as a lapdog apes Anubis!" Ugh. Handle this one thyself, 'Horus', I will return when yon idol of idiot-worshippers begone. Okay, fine! i was trying to do you a favor! The Scion of Set's eyes boggled at first - but then narrowed with serpentine cunning, and no little godly rage. "You...how dare you! Your mockery will be your death warrant! False Sunhawk, come low and be tested!" The Scion fired a beam of green energy from his staff at Horus, only to find her far fleeter than he expected. "Thy tongue outvenoms the Nile - but thy aim is that of a child! Come and face the Sunhawk in battle, then!" And then Horus flew down and struck the Scion across the body with her glowing ankh - and the battle was on!

Good place for die rolls.

Looking to recruit Bedlam PCs for a thread! (probably just three) The idea is that an open super-battle breaks out in downtown Bedlam - and Lady Horus is one of the combatants! Will the PCs intervene/get caught up in the fracas?