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-= PRODIGY -=- Golden Age Of The SUPERHERO -=- FreeForm RPG
The City Of Heroes - Megatropolis The City Of Heroes Comments, story planning, brainstorming, requests by players Ask questions and post comments about the game! No password required.
 

The Skies Above

Prodigy: City Of Supers: The Skies Above

The skies above Megatropolis range from spectral blue heavens to stark grey battlegrounds. Be it a airborne battle, or a midair journey, all actions taking place over the city are posted here.


In Darkness And Shadow Lurks The (Umbra)

 

(OOC:

Welcome to the game, I like your character. When we post we have an hour to change it before it becomes locked. It takes a Moderator or the GM to change it after that though you could email them a request or state it on an OOC board. As for this character coming up to the helicopter I'm afraid it's not really possible. It's cloaked and aided by a scrambler so it's unable to be detected. It's armor would most likely not allow the gunshot to be heard, and it's a Black Ops bird flying at night making it impossible to see with the naked eye. Even if it could be found looking inside with any machine to see the two men would be out due to the scrambler. Sorry and I hope to get a chance to game with you later, but if you like there's a stalled SL at Bunker 308 in the Outskirts that could use some fresh blood.:-) Again, welcome and have fun. Umbra looks forward to slowly destroying your hopes and dreams in torturous and painful ways. Have fun.:-))


In Darkness And Shadow Lurks The (Umbra)

 
It was a warm night, the stars above glinting in beautiful symphony of light in a private performance for any present in the clearing below. A fire blazed in the center of the open space bathing the trunks of nearby trees in a warm glow. In peaceful contentment near the burning pile of wood laid a man clad in a warm down coat with new boots and gloves covering his extremities. A bottle of fine whisky and a roasted chicken in a take out box lay close to his left side, the finishing touches to a homeless man's perfect dream.

However there was something amiss here, for the glinting stars never changed in their sparkle. The glow did not fade from some and increase in others, nor indeed did the fire itself dare to twitch. There was no sound of flame crackling the fuel that fed it or even the twitter of a night bird in these woods, it was though this were but a painting of a scene.

By itself away from the hexed blaze there were wooden stairs leading down into the ground to reveal a badly lit hallway at the bottom. The stair well itself held an odd yellowish glow around it, brighter in truth than the passage it led to. At the end of this tunnel for any who braved to travel it there would be to find a plain wooden door with two large men on either side guarding it, both in tight fitting suits pulling over buldging muscles and holding Tommy Guns.

Past this door life is not still, but active and jumping. Tables sit upon a thickly carpeted floor with figures dressed in pin stripe suits playing cards and tossing chips into a pile while taking drinks of various liquids out of glasses provided by the apron-clad figure behind a long and well stocked bar. The place is large and well lit despite the efforts from the clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke to dim it. On a stage on the far side of the room a woman in a shimmering evening gown and long black gloves that cover her arms up to the elbows sings an old song perhaps popular in the 1930s. Other girls in outfits bedecked with feathers walk around with cases hung about their necks loaded with fresh smokes and other goodies the customers might like. The crowd ranges here from thugs in cheap suits to high class-looking gentlemen. Many of those here can be seen with a weapon on them, and those that have one out of sight most likely still have one. Regardless of the massive amounts of muscle and firepower this place seems to be cheerful and happy for those in it.


The Tin Angel (Hatchetfeather)

 

OOC:  From the Harbour... heading toward Downtown



Hatchet Feather circled, following the path of a rising thermal into the morning air. The rushing wind and low cloud washed away the remaining blood that clung to his feathers. He had collected two scalps that evening and saved the city from an environmental catastrophe, but that did not bring him any pleasure. The lives he had taken were simple thugs and the last had begged for his miserable life. The sight of a grandfather teaching his grandson to fish below did bring him some contentment however. They were the ones he had saved, though they did not know who to thank or even that their lives and health were in peril. "Just the way it should be" thought the hero.

Though Prodigy's villains grew more brazen, night remained the best time to hunt. Bikers in particular. The call of booze and loose women would bring them from under their rocks. Chainsaw Andy would be not hard to find - but kicking down a clubhouse door was not the way this fight would be won. He would have to lured into battle - just how, the Tin Angel did not know yet.

His keen eyes locked on his current roost. The Bell St. Clocktower.


The Tin Angel (Hatchetfeather)

 
city


Heading toward his roost the city looked almost at rest. It was the early hours of the morning and Hatchet Feather was about ready to turn in. The roar of a motorcycle captured his attention as did the stench of marijuana that clung to the rider's leather jacket. "Colours", the vigilantly said to himself picking out the Warband logo.

Image by David Stroup, io.com


The Tin Angel (Hatchetfeather)

 

OOC:   from the streets below



Hatchet Feather took his prize then to the air as the sound of sirens approached. One more dead thug, but this one was a super and the city would be happy to be rid of him.

With his work now done for now and the police left scratching their heads far below, the vigilante headed back to his roost for a bit of shuteye. It had been a long night and though he did not need much sleep - he still needed some. Sleep however was not something the bird-man sought. The sound of an Ojibwe war cry was never far from his heart and a drum always beat in his brains. His dreams were often troubled and filled with images he could not make sense of. A curse or a calling he could not tell.


In Darkness And Shadow Lurks The (Umbra)

 
The figtht over and his puppet once more under his control from a bit of rest, the future lord of the city commanded his great beast into the mountains.

(OOC:

To Mountains)


You broke the law, Now I break you! (Dr_mech)

 
The single machine still following the helicopter was lagging behind. Its sophisticated camera system however, fed the doctor with information. He was still following the thing.


In Darkness And Shadow Lurks The (Umbra)

 
Deadly and silent the Bird Of Prey flew onward to its nest, the radar inside dectecting no tail and the machine itself flying too fast for one to keep up anyway.

(OOC:

To Shipyard)


The Dying Angel of Thought (Fallenangel)

 
The Fallen Angel sweeped the area for signs of a superhero he could ask for assisstance. With eyes like the most talented of sharpshooters, Spyke searched helplessly. It was a big city, and no one could see everything. Besides, these people had jobs. They might be at the gym getting a workout while he was wasting time here. Thinking it through, Spyke had no alternative. As his heart seemd to be beating out of his chest, The Fallen Angel continued his search.


Anonymous

 
The people down below the hero seemed to slow their movements before coming to a complete stop. Even the clouds about him ceased to move as a familiar voice sounded out by Fallen Angel's left shoulder.

"We need to talk."

Some how standing on nothing but air the Angel of Death had once more chosen to appear, though something was clearly different this time. The over all look of the celestial figure seemed washed out as though his whole form had been soaked in bleach. Sunken eyes would meet Spyke's when he turned to face his friend as though Heaven's Servant was suffering from sleep loss. Even the words used sounded tired. Some thing was very out of place...


The Dying Angel of Thought (Fallenangel)

 
Spyke looked at the Angel of Death, looking very unlike himself. However, Spyke could feel a powerful pain in his chest. Nausea swept over him as his muscles began to fail him. The pills must have begun to wear off, but they shouldn't be. They should keep going for 24 hours or until he took the anti-pill. The Angel of Death had never had this effect on him before, so what could be doing this to him? It seemed to take everything Jason possessed to look up at the Angel of Death, took everything not to sob as he thought of his own death. Certainly he had no problem with death, the entity or the idea, but so much left undone. Marie....Spyke brought himself back from the deep nothingness he found himself close to falling into, jerking his head up and staring at the Angel of Death.
"I'm listening... But hurry up, or I'll miss Heroes."


Anonymous

 
"Most look up for answers, you choose to gaze down ward. Why does this not suprise me?"

The Angel of Death allowed a faint smile to play upon his lips though it faded soon after its birth as if the effort to mantain it was too draining.

"What do you know of the War of Heaven?"


The Dying Angel of Thought (Fallenangel)

 
Trying his best to hide his obvious pain, Spyke straightened himself(painfully) and forced a sarcastic smirk.
"Not a D@#m thing."


Anonymous

 
The Angel of Death failed to so much as raise an eye brow to this, either hinting that he lacked the strength or more likely that Spyke's answer was not unexpected.

"I fear I lack the time for even a crash course, so I will skip to the most important part. The Devil has long believed he could do what God does, and better in his bloated opinion I have no doubt. This goes for any thing. God made wind, the Devil created hurricanes; God made rain and the Devil countered with floods; God made rainless days and the Devil crafted droughts, you get the idea I am sure. Well the Four Horse Men seem to have been no different, a little some thing I recently stumbled across. God had His, so the Devil wanted his own set. You met a partial result of that I believe, and they were not even at full strength with out the last member. All I know for sure at current moment is that those fiends used to be alive, I could still sense that much from them though they have been twisted so much from normal souls by power that I could gain little else. I also know that my own power is waning, as the Horse Man Death is truly becoming what he depicts. I do not under stand what only three of them are doing in the mortal world, but I can tell you this; The Four Horse Men were created to end all mortal life, no force was allowed made to stop them. The only one equal to a Horse Man IS a Horse Man. If these fiends were once alive, perhaps too was the man they are searching for. This how ever is as far as my help may go, for my hold in this plane is draining as I speak. I will try to gather what power I am able and return to you if any new information I can find."

The celestial being looked much in that moment as tired as a marathon run after mile one hundred.


The Dying Angel of Thought (Fallenangel)

 
The Fallen Angel seemed almost mad. As much because he had to find a dead man as that the Angel of Death was taking a lunch break after countless millenia.
"So...I have to find the final horseman..." The Fallen Angel really didn't like this plan, wondering if he could pass the responsiblity to someone else. This really hadn't been what he signed up for when he became a superhero, but that stupid conscience would keep bugging him if he didn't. Though how angry Marie would be if he got seriously thrashed would be worse than any devi-created entity. Shrugging, The Fallen Angel wondered if he could go home and pass out for a little while before beginning this Horseman-search...then decided he didn't have the time. No one did. After all, he might wake up to find the world had been destroyed, and he hadn't even had the time to shower and hug his girlfriend...


Infultraitore Xeeim 3bb//x97 (most of that is the closest human sounds to his name) (Odieonni)

 
The stealth frigate tore through the upper atmosphear a comet of light which streamed through the sky.
"NOW A.D.D! Now is when your advanced information gathering skills will be needed!!! Observed what these Earth filth call normal!!"
A.D.D lept to the veiwing ports its tenticels swaying in every direction. Scanning human life as the ship flew through the sky.

"Sir recomend target lovation for base..." A.D.D said pointing out a small dirt alotment in the suburbs of the city.

"Excelent there we can build with out being noticed.... IM GENIUS!" Xeeim aimed he ship down...
(*towards the suburbs*)


Anonymous

 
The mothership quickly soared through the sky and hovered above the city. "Messchin, open the viewing ports for me. Do a tactical scan of the city and tell me the threat level. Tell me what the scan picks up on all targets that are a threat. More importantly, see if you can locate that thorn!" The leader growled to him. He wanted to do this one by the book, and he needed to know exactly what the threats were, even if they already knew.

(Answer to post is reserved at the moment)


Anonymous

 
Messchin’s cruel narrow face focused on the monitors. His cyber-eye analyzed the scans of data. “The majority of the populace are nothing but mindless fodder Mein Fuhrer easily enslaved or eradicated depending on your mood. The city boasts formidable law enforcement contingents however but nothing our forces cannot handle.” The first officer raised the vicious hook where his right hand used to be. “There is however a large array of so-called Supers. I believe there are the major threat but we are not the Master Race for nothing.” He licked his blackened lips, stained with the excessive use of spider-drugs. “In my humble opinion I think we are more than strong enough to teach these scab licking mongrels the meaning of real power. No sign of the thorn though. There are however evil-aligned supers who might be enticed to join our cause. Does Mein Fuhrer require any further data?”


Anonymous

 
An evil smile formed on his face as he was told of the "threats". "Goooood. We will enslave this puny planet yet! As long as the ones back on the home world don't change their minds! Our plan would make Hitler himself proud. Law enforcement will meet a painful death at our hands. Their pitiful deaths will serve as a warning to all others who hold out hope." The leader gave an evil laugh after what was said.

He leaned forward and sneered. "Supers?! BAH! We'll test out their little supers, and they will all see them fail miserably on the battlefield! Of course we are strong enough, everyone else in the universe is stronger then anyone on this backwater planet!" The leader roared to his first officer.

Two fists slammed down on his throne's arms as he was told about their thorn. "Damn that human, DAMN HIM! We will flush him out first before we commence with the invasion! Mark my words, that human will die by the time I am through with him!" The leader yelled as he stood up.

"Evil-aligned supers? They would make good pawns for us. Yes, we will get them on our side whether by words...or the fun way...by force! Scan for only the evil-aligned supers this time. Once you pick them up, tell me their locations. Take us down further to where we are hovering at the height of their tallest building. Soon, our plan to flush him out will start!" The leader commanded as he sat back down on his thrown.

(OOC: To City Streets)


Infultraitore Xeeim 3bb//x97 (most of that is the closest human sounds to his name) (Odieonni)

 
Like a sleak black dart the Gorki fighter ship flew through the sky.
If it hadn't been running in stealth mode and bending light around itself to hide then an onlooker would see something akin to a flying metal squid with four long leathle tentacles.

Xeeim checked over the vapouriser bomb he planned to deploy while A.D.D sat watching the digital desplays.

*to the mall*


Herr Willhelm Malsberg (Herr_malsberg)

 
A private jet approached Prodigy from the East, it's clearance and priority a matter of course. the private jet an expense Herr Willhelm Malsberg sees as necessary, if for no other reason than to allow him to smoke his cigars in flight, as he reviews updates from the new American division. The accident has annoyed him, not for the disruption of whatever work was done, but for the sloppy nature of these Americans. How they ever managed to defeat the Fatherland is a mystery, though he supposed the gross arrogance and dementia that afflicted Hitler prevented him from using the gifts of the German people wisely. Still, even a madman with the German will behind him should have prevailed over these slovenly and lazy Americans. Of course, perhaps they were different then, the German immigrants who moved here not diluted enough back then to have become fully lazy. Yes, it must be so, the German influence in this land was strong enough back then to pull the rest of this degenerate nation along for the ride. Pity the Fatherland's rules sufferred such dementia, else the Reich might have been envisioned the way it should have been. Ah well, if not rule of the world, at least his company has its own 'reich' and is not challeneged by these upstarts.

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