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GM Near Midnight... ...On the streets of Bedlam The night of Bedlam was alive with its normal nocturnal residents. Tramps, drunks, burgulars, pimps, slingers, and buyers. But that was not the main event of the night. The main event was announced by the beeping of horns, the crash of cars, the screams of pedestrians. And round the corner came a lorry - large, steaming, travelling far faster than it should, threatening to jack knife as it turned. One light was out, and it was hard to see who, if anybody, was behind the wheel. It crashed through parking meters, it collided with parked vehicles. Steam poured from its damaged grill. What was certain was that it was only a matter of time before the runaway lorry would crash into some building or worse. And the people of Bedlam seemed only interested in one thing; getting out of the way. And who could blame them? For at the end of the road it hurtled down was a fireworks factory. The night looked like it would soon be illuminated with a bang. Unless some hero was on the prowl...

GM Post Bedlam Harbor. Tuesday, May 21st, 2019. 8:35 am. You found all sorts of useful junk floating in Lake Michigan; wood, bottles, bits of plastic. Stafford T. Phillips, mostly known as 'Relic' to his few friends, had been plying his trade on these waters for decades, collecting these treasures in his little jet boat, the Eartha Kitt, then selling them for scrap, or to several local artists who worked in found materials. A few hours every day with his net and his crook was usually all he needed to maintain his simple lifestyle. This morning, Relic was poking around the eddies that caught junk by the base of Pier 7, a favorite spot of his. He was leaning over to snag a particularly promising looking mass with his crook, when he realized it was a body; he only saw a quick flash of wetsuit and a floating cloud of hair, but that was enough to chill his blood and twist his stomach. "Holy s###," he cried out. "Holy s###!" Somehow in all his years of scrap hunting, he'd never come across a body before, and now that he had, he had no idea what to do. In a panic, he raised his voice as loud as he could to see if someone nearby could help him. "Hey! Hey! We've got a body down here! A human body!"

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

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

Celestial Spirit Fellowship Tuesday, July 10th, 2017 7:32 PM The heat was breaking as the sun dragged down towards the horizon. But it still felt hot enough to light a fuse. Samantha Lemire sat on a graffiti-splattered bench in front of the shelter, nursing a cigarette like a shipwrecked man might nurse clean water. She looked out on the dirty street as the lamps flickered and fought against the twilight. As a charity worker in the Country Club, Sam had seen a lot and handled half of it with her own two hands. On a number of those occasions, she'd wished she'd had thicker gloves. But she knew what it was like to get her hands dirty and deal with the muck of the world. Not like this, though. This was something else entirely. She fought against her nerves as the steel door to the shelter scraped open. She turned to find Michael, one of the volunteers, waiting in the frame. "They show up yet?" "No. How's our... guest?" "He's fine. Sleeping it off, for now. As for the rest of him --" "Just focus on the bit that's sleeping. The others?" "They're fine, for now. If he wakes up..." Sam shook her head. "I gave him enough Benadryl that he could sleep through the Fourth of July." "You could have used the Haldol --" "There are people who need that. And he's not mad. As we know it." She turned back to the street, waiting for her guests. "Mind you, I'm sure these guys know it better..."

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.

GM Early evening Saturday Night, Bedlam City, April the 8th. Fat Joe was rotund as ever. He was a tall man, bald, always wearing sunglasses in the worst of weather, with a smile that nearly split his face and wobbled his jowls. He knew plenty of people in Bedlam, and got on with most of them. He sported a missing front tooth from the one time his friendly demeanour just got some crook up the wrong way. But, as he said, he was damned if he was ever gonna stop smiling. Fat Joe sold hot dogs on the street. They weren't particularly good, but they weren't bad either. More onions that meat, usually. He just liked selling them, and people like buying them. He liked telling jokes, and demanded his customers tell him good ones. If it was a good one, they got extra mustard and two sausages in the bread. He didn't make a whole lot of money, but he didn't starve either. Clearly, he didn't starve. He was 25 stone, easy. "Say, Smith, what's brown and sticky?" he asked the Tattered Man, giving him his toothy smile. "And how about I give you extra onions if you help me out?"

OOC thread for this this be the mood.

Bedlam City, 11:57 PM, May 20th, 2017 John was sitting in a corner. He had a brown bag bottle in his hand, but it was just water. He wore an old rayon jacket over a stained t-shirt and a pair of tattered, holey shoes. He kept his head down. He was just one more homeless man, one more bum. This face was an older man, graying, paunched, haggard. Looked like a man with a hard life. He didn't even look up when he heard the car stop, or the men get out of the car. There were two of them, one was noticeably heavier than the other, had heavier steps. He didn't look up when he heard the shuffle of footsteps heading into the alleyway. He didn't need to look up, he just sipped his brown bag water. There were more people in the alley, come from the other side. They were talking in hushed tones. This one was a gun deal. Someone was selling a couple of handguns to someone else. This one was important. His hearing was so much sharper than it used to be. He could hear the rats in the building behind him, skittering in the darkness. More importantly, he could hear the voices, the gun deal. The seller and buyer were easy to discern. He'd follow the buyer, first. Get the guns.

Bedlam Harbor 2 am on a Cold Winter Night GM Post Beldam liked to keep it simple, and as long as you kept the right people happy things could go simply. With Bedlam that mean keeping the Mob happy something that the Vorovskoy Bratva, the Russian gangsters, didn’t always do their best to keep them content. So when one of the Bratva’s warehouses burst into flames there seemed to be little interest by the authorities to stop the flames, they seemed more concerned by the nearby building which were obviously owned by people more aligned to the city ideals. Luckily the fire seemed contained to only a small area and very little damage was caused and this could be considered a potential warning, as long as no one had been harmed...

Player Name: Thunder King Character Name: The Tattered Man Power Level: 8/11 (150/177 PP) Trade-Offs: None Unspent Power Points: 27 In Brief: A murdered police officer, saved and empowered to save Bedlam. Residence: A cheap motel in Downtown Bedlam Alternate Identity: John Smith Identity: Secret Birthplace: Milwaukee, Wisconsin Occupation: Freelance and under the table work Affiliations: None Family: None he associates with Description: Age: 33 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 5'9" Weight: 185 Eyes: Gray Hair: Brown John's appearance varies by which face he's wearing, but his default appearance is of a man of average height and build, with a handsome but otherwise nondescript face. His hair is neatly trimmed and his face is clean shaven. He deliberately picked this face to make himself appear as bland and as uninteresting as possible, to make it easier to fade into crowds and keep his head down. John's costume is an old, tattered coat that's somehow connected to his powers. Despite being tattered and worn, it keeps him warm, and any further damage seems to somehow repair itself. With it, he wears a simple pair of black khaki pants, worn old boots and gloves. All in plain earth tones of black and brown, with a plain black cloth mask over his eyes, forehead and nose to stop 'John Smith' from being recognized. Power Descriptions: John is empowered by ghosts. He's stronger, tougher, and more perceptive than he once was. He can change his appearance to look like one of the ghosts did in life. He heals much faster than an ordinary person, and he can tap into the memory of places and objects that are associated with death. The visions he receives in this way, however, are often jumbled and twisted by emotion. History: He was born Stephen Chambers in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He was an only child, raised by neglectful and abusive parents. His teenage years were full of anger, strife, and bad choices. However, sometime during high school he resolved to make something of himself. He emancipated himself and worked his way through college, trying to make a difference, wanting to be a cop. He served in Milwaukee for a time, and felt good about his life and the choices he made. Then, he transferred to Bedlam. He was in over his head and failed to see the warning signs. He knew Bedlam was bad, but he was unprepared for the scope of the corruption. He learned, though, six months into it. He was betrayed by someone he called a friend, and kidnapped. He saw things he shouldn't have seen. They dragged him out to an old abandoned lot and put two bullets in him, then buried him. Something about the gun or their aim went bad, because as bad as it hurt, he wasn't dead. The old lot was full of ghosts, the spirits of the slain. All the people who had been disposed of there over the years. They found him, clinging to life, and they concocted a plan. They poured power into him, supernatural, spiritual energy. They healed him, they strengthened him. They taught him a lot of what they knew about Bedlam, but the long years of haunting made much of their advice and knowledge incomprehensible. He doesn't quite know how long he was buried, some of his own memories were lost in the shuffle. He knows he was buried in autumn, and awoke in winter, and he doesn't quite know why. He dug himself out of his grave and discovered he was wearing a tattered old long coat, which he did not remember owning or wearing. He found himself some contacts for under the table work, and a motel that takes cash but doesn't ask questions. He introduces himself as John, John Smith, to all who ask. However, when rumors started up of a crazed man in an old coat sticking his nose in where it didn't belong, the rumors called him the Tattered Man. Personality & Motivation: Despite what happened, John's attitude hasn't gotten much worse. He's bitter about what happened to him, but he tries not to let it tear him apart. Whatever else happened, he's still alive. He feels that his newfound powers are more blessing than curse, because now he can fight Bedlam's corruption with the benefit of total anonymity. Powers & Tactics: John hits hard and moves fast, using basic self-defense techniques simply and efficiently. He can survive more than an ordinary person, but knows his limits. Therefore, he takes advantage of the environment and never fights fair when he can avoid it. Complications: Amnesia: There are some details about his former life that are fuzzy, up to and including the identities of his own attempted killers. He has most of the skills and knowledge that he used to have, but some of the minutae of his personal life remain a mystery. So Many Faces, So Little Time: John can change his appearance, but has a specific set of appearances he can take on. This means he has to be careful which faces he shows to whom, and can be caught if he's not careful. I am John Smith: John has no family, no friends, no support network, no job, and no real home. If it can't be done with cash or haggling, he can't do it. Through a Glass, Darkly: His postcognition is the ability to see visions of deaths in an area or on an object. However, this is done through the eyes of those who experienced it, either the killer, or the slain. What he sees is usually twisted and strange, difficult to understand and heavily influenced by emotional states. He has to parse what he sees and interpret it, and these interpretations are not perfect. Abilities: 4 + 8 + 6 + 8 + 4 + 6 = 36PP Strength: 14/26 (+2/+8) Dexterity: 18 (+4) Constitution: 16/22 (+3/+6) Intelligence: 18 (+4) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 16 (+3) Combat: 10 + 6 = 16PP Initiative: +8 Attack: +8 Melee, +5 Ranged Grapple: +16 Defense: +8 (+3 Base, +5 Dodge Focus), +1 Flat-Footed Knockback: -4 Saving Throws: 2 + 2 + 3 = 7PP Toughness: +8 (+6 Con, +2 protection) Fortitude: +8 (+6 Con, +2) Reflex: +6 (+4 Dex, +2) Will: +5 (+2 Wis, +3) Skills: 104R = 26PP Acrobatics: 6 (+10) Computers: 4 (+8) Disable Device: 6 (+10) Disguise: 2 Escape Artist: 4 (+4) Gather Information: 8 (+12) Intimidate: 8 (+11) Investigate: 8 (+12) Knowledge (Civics): 6 (+10) Knowledge (Current Events): 6 (+10) Knowledge (Life Sciences): 6 (+10) Knowledge (Streetwise): 6 (+10) Medicine: 4 (+8) Notice: 8 (+12) Search: 8 (+12) Sense Motive: 6 (+8) Stealth: 8 (+12) Feats: 24PP Attack Focus (melee) 3 Beginner's Luck Dodge Focus 5 Elusive Target Fearless Hide in Plain Sight Improved Disarm Improved Initiative Improved Throw Improved Trip Luck 2 Move-by Action Power Attack Quick Change Takedown Attack 2 Uncanny Dodge (Audio) Powers: 6 + 12 + 2 + 4 + 2 + 2 + 3 + 10 = 41PP All Powers are of the magic descriptor Enhanced Constitution 6 (to 22) [6PP] Enhanced Strength 12 (to 26) [12PP] Leaping 2 (x5; running jump 90ft; standing jump 45 ft, high jump 22 ft)[2PP) Morph 2: Broad Group (The dead buried in the abandoned lot) [4PP] Protection 2 [2PP] Regeneration 2 (Injured 1/5 minutes) [2PP] Speed 3 (50 mph, 440 ft. per move) [3PP] Super-Senses 10 (Accurate Audio, Darkvision, Postcognition) [10PP] DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 23 Toughness Damage (Physical) Totals: Abilities (36) + Combat (16) + Saving Throws (7) + Skills (26) + Feats (24) + Powers (41) - Drawbacks (0) = 150/177