It has been ten years since Mastermind died defending the world from Omega. The world needed champions, it needed heroes, it needed the Protectors. Five years ago, the world would have fallen without them. One year ago only two watched over the world. The world suffered, it cried for more heroes, for more Protectors. Now the Protectors answer the world'€™s cry calling for heroes from all over the world to join their ranks. Who will answer?
The Protectors is a Mutants & Masterminds 2nd edition campaign. The story follows our heroes to when they first join the exalted ranks of the Protectors, to when they battle fiends powerful enough to destroy entire nations. How will they fare? Only time will tell.
Finally Midnight arrives. The meeting will begin shortly. You are all guided through two large oak wooden doors and are introduced to your first sight of the mess hall.
Round tables covered in white cloth dot the room. Light from the ceiling gives the room a bright glow. Walls of what appear to be wood surrond the mess hall. Waiters and waitresses dressed in black and white clothing hurry from table to table. At the tables are seated creatures of all shapes and sizes. Everything from what appears to be a half dragon to a mousy looking dwarf fiddling around with a mechanical device. At the side opposite of the doors is a long table with a speaker's podium just behind the center, two chairs are set at either side. This table is obviously reserved for the Protectors but it seems none have arrived yet.
All of you are guided by different waiters to the same table, you do not yet know why, and if questioned the waiters merely reply that you were assigned these seats. Gathered around you are fellow heroes, they say the first impression is the most important.
Welcome to the first post of the Protectors. Please post your descriptions and opening lines to your newfound compatriots here.
Malador? You arrive seconds before the banquet begins just outside of the doors, and Mystic wishes you luck before teleporting again.
Megalith? In your anticipation you arrived early as such you've found yourself sitting alone for quite some time.
Painkiller? You arrive right on time, other than Dr. Howlette's tour nothing extraordinary has happened.
Blackhawk? The library is truly spectacular. You've found information on subjects as diverse as Nuclear Physics to the Ethical Philosophy on the use of Power. Arriving seconds before midnight you have just gotten situated as midnight arrives.
Ms. Hunter? You arrive on time. Nothing interesting happens (that I know of).
As the meeting in about to start, a shimmering doorway opens out of nowhere and two people step out. The first is an impossibly beautiful woman, immediately recognizable to all as Lady Mystic, the Protector's resident mage and likely the most powerful wielder of magical power on Earth. The second is a man of average height with dark hair and blue eyes. By his clothes, and his association with Lady Mystic, it seems safe to say that he also is a sorcerer. He stands about six feet tall, wiry, and firm, his body in perfect proportions. He is dressed in the traditional garb of an Atlantean sorcerer, though there are precious few alive who would recognize the fact. The outfit includes a large blue tunic over baggy gray trousers. Soft black boots protect his feet, while dark bands surround his forearms. And flowing over his back, having almost a life of its own, lies a mystic cloak, the color of a rich blue sea.
Lady Mystic wishes the newcomer good luck and he thanks her before she steps back into the mystic portal and it winks out as quickly as it appeared. A moment later, before any more words can be exchanged, the doors open and the group is ushered to their seats.
The man follows the waiter who dutifully guides him to the table. But he waits to take his seat until everyone else arrives. Once they are all seated, he introduces himself simply.
"I am Malador," he says in a firm voice, "called by some 'the Mystic.' I was asked here by Lady Mystic for what I assume is the same purpose as the rest of you. I look forward to working with you all."
Then, in a much more casual tone he adds, "Blackhawk, Megalith, it's good to see you both again. I'm glad to see they asked you on board too."
I'm assuming based on our background discussion that Malador has worked with Megalith a time or two and has helped Blackhawk out with some mystical consultations in the past.
She is short and not particularly spectacular. She seems a little uncomfortable in her mask as if she is not used to it. She has brown hair and dark eyes.
In whispered tones Ms. Hunter says, "Am I on time? I'm not really sure what is going on. It all happened so quickly. My name is Synapse by the way. "
She turns to the person next to her, "And you would be..."
Just seconds before the door opens, Blackhawk arrives and watches the two sorcerers arrive. He follows a waiter to the table and as he recognizes Malador, the Mystic, he nods appreciatively.
Blackhawk has a grim expression on his face, at least perceptible at his visible lower face, since his eyes are indistinguishable behind a pair of white lenses and the rest of his head is hidden under a black mask. He has pulled the hood deep over his face and his cape closes around his a body. 6 foot 2" tall, he has a body which would be appropriate to an olympic athlete and it is protected by a black bodysuit. Multiple seperated and overlaying plates of armor, barely visible to the naked eye cover the torso and upper legs, all of them matt black as the suit. Only his dark blue gloves gauntlets with the sharp scallops, his gloves and boots can be seen before he sits down.
Behind his mask he feels rather uncomfortable, like a clown on a cocktail party, although he knows that these are all fellow heroes. As Blackhawk has been addressed by Malador the Mystic he sees no reason to introduce himself again only scanning the other people on the table, probably unknown by the others, though, because he doesn't move his head.
A man wearing a black costume with a dark red slatitude strip from his shoulder to his belt and a complete black mask approches the table. He his about 6 feet tall and is muscularly build.
Before he sits down he shakes hands with everyone on the table.
"Hi, I'm Painkiller it's always nice to meet like-minded people. So it looks like this gonne be a hell of a party, I never saw so many powerful people in one room."
Painkiller takes a closer look on everyone in the room. His sight remains at a dwarf who seems to juggle with some metallic stuff.
"They really did their best to keep us entertained. They even hired a court jester."
Painkiller sits down and waits for the show to begin.
Max Power - "Kids, there's three ways to do things; the right way, the wrong way and the Max Power way!"
Children - "Isn't that the wrong way?"
Max Power - "Yeah, but faster!"
Having arrived way too early, Malcolm soon becomes rather nervous. In an attempt to ease the tension, he quickly begins nodding his head and tapping on the table to the rhythm of a phantom tune. By the time that the first guest arrives, they can clearly hear the young man mumbling to himself.
"To the window, to the wall...To the sweat drop down my balls..."
The young black man singing to himself at the table appears to be an average adult in his early to mid twenties. His hair is worn in loose pencil-thin dreadlocks and he appears to be rather easy-going in nature. His current clothing is semi-formal at best and rather casual (if not trendy) in style. It would also appear to those approaching that the young man is rather excited to be here this evening and as such, has somehow formed a rather 'unique' coping mechanism to deal with his anxiety, singing!
When Blackhawk approaches, Malcolm promptly ceases with his singing and gives the oddly-masked man a casual head nod in greeting.
"Whassup...Name's Malcolm..."
Eventually, Malcolm goes back to his fidgeting and by the time Malador enters the room, it sounds a little bit like this.
"She getting crunk in the club...I mine she work it...Ands then I like to see the female twerking...Taking the clothes off buckey naked...
MALADOR! WHAT'S SHAKING MAN!?"
Once he has greeted the mystic mage and exchanged a brief conversation, young Malcolm then continues on with his song. By the time that Ms. Hunter arrives, the young hero is so lost in the project, that he doesn't even seem too realize that the woman is in front of him until it is too late!
"Pa pop yo pussy like this...'Cause Yin Yang Twins in this bitch...Lil Jon and the East Side boys wit' me...And we all like to see Ass and Titi...."
Malcolm quickly shuts up singing and becomes instantly silent. If black men could blush, he would be seen doing so! After a moment or two of uncomfortable silence, the young man stands up from the table and waits for Ms. Hunter to take her seat.
"Greetings," he says embarrassed, "It is a pleasure to meet you. The name is Malcolm...Malcolm Stone."
Last edited by Eanwulf on Thu Nov 12, 2009 9:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
The dwarf doesn't seem to notice Painkiller's joke at her expense, continuing to work diligently on whatever device is in her hands.
Megalith's antics catches the attention of a few of the other heroes with varying results. A thin man with horn rimmed glasses sitting next to the hero Megalith was told is Xenos on the table opposite him, looks to be in shock. While at the table behind Megalith the Half Dragon's tail taps rytimically with the imaginary beat, he even humms a few lines along with Megalith. Another man dressed in what appears to be Templar armor, seems confused as to what exactly it is Megalith is saying.
After a few moments a waiter comes up and asks, "you guys ready to order?"
Feel free to carry on the conversation, I'll move you along Saturday morning RL time. Unless there is a great outrage at the delay. You have the equivalent of two miutes before the speech starts.
Oh and the menu reveals pretty much anything conventionally eaten is available... as well as coal, wonder who that's for.
Edit: Realized my spoiler didn't have the best wording.
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"I'll have whatever seafood the chef recommends," Malador says, "with whatever wine he thinks will complement it best." The chef knows what's freshest in his kitchen. Malador can find no reason to second guess his judgment.
When the others have finished ordering, he takes a sip of his water and considers his new companions. "I wonder how we all found our way here," he says to the table. "For my part, I've known Lady Mystic for over twenty years." This statement seems to belie his appearance, which fits a man of his mid- to late- twenties. "We've collaborated on some mystical matters in the past. And she thought my sorcerous expertise might be useful to the Protectors. I must confess, until now I've dealt with primarily magical threats."
"But what about the rest of you? How did you get recruited?"
Edited to correct my confusion
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Whereas other people order something to eat, Blackhawk doesn't want to eat anything and gives the waiter only a slight gesture that he doesn't need anything. He only appears a bit disgruntled that Painkillers doesn't pay the respect to other heroes, regardless of ther appearence. Especially someone who only uses weapons made for lethal force, instead of the probably quite fascinating device the dwarf is holding.
"G-Block met me near a place where I intervened with the local criminals and offered me to join the Protectors", Blackhawk says with a throaty voice.
He evaluates the other people, not only at this table, but also on the others, trying to figure out what they might be capable of. The less obvious the carried equipment is, the more they intrigueing they are. At least to him. Obviously some of them are quite capable telepaths or something similar. He is not everly concerned about his identity, but even more if they are some heroes here who might not be as trustworthy as they appear, despite the scanning the greatest heroes of Earth had done before the initiative was passed. Perhaps he's just too cautious, but it cannot be wrong to be prepared.
Blackhawk leans with his elbows on the table, waiting for the introduction and explanation of this meeting to begin, except the issue about their work with the Protectors. Since this could have been done in a smaller scale. But that's only what he thinks about it.
Still embarrassed by his previous actions, Malcolm avoids all eye contact with Ms. Hunter and decides to follow Malador's cue, waiting for the right time to respond.
"The name's Malcolm (if you haven't already guessed), but to the underworld I am known as Megalith. Much like this guy over here (points to Blackhawk), I was recruited by G-block and look forwards to working with you all, should we actually wind up finding ourselves becoming a team."
"Though I don't look like much now," he then adds, "I can tell you this...I'm a real powerhouse when it comes to combat (gives Malador a playful wink)!"
Once the waiter approaches and inquires as to the party's order, Malcolm promptly chimes in, stating, "Oh yes brotherman! I'd like some hot wings, extra spicy! Blue cheese on the side and some 2:11 (Steel Reserve malt liquor)! Throw in a couple of slices of pizza and some butterscotch pudding for desert, and you got yourself an order!"
Though apparently an adult, Malcolm's behavior is childish at best, leaving one with the impression that the young lad is either very immature, or suffers from sort of mental disorder.
Hope Ms. Hunter doesn't try to diagnose me
Last edited by Eanwulf on Fri Nov 13, 2009 10:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
