Reign of Owls

Introductions

Gotham City, Bratva Territory

The easiest place to really kurfuckle a design was in the very beginning.  So many things could go wrong before that first line was placed on the blueprints.  All ships, and especially warships, were limited by their volume.  Too small and they lacked room for for all the weapons, crew space, power plant, communication equipment, supplies for deployments, redundant systems for when things started to fail in combat… everything it needed to function.  Too large and the ship would slowly become more and more inefficient on a per unit basis.  For instance most cruisers had around a 10,000 ton displacement, but even a threefold increase in size would barely double the hulls ability to survive incoming heavy attacks and it required a disproportionate increase in crew compared to performance.  That didn’t even factor the sheer engineering nightmare on a manpower per hour basis for the maintenance of keeping a capital ship functioning close to its paper specs.  So you had to think hard about the concept.  What was the ship for?  Did it need a house sized sensor suite capable of detecting a goldfish 15,000 feet below sea level, or could a smaller set that could only detect large metallic objects a few miles out suffice?  Did you have to fit in a monster of a cannon capable of bombarding fortifications nearly twenty five kilometers away, or did you need an array of smaller guns for targeting nimble and fast moving airborne craft?

“What the hell are you doing lady?” Opening one of her eyes Veronika glanced up to see the irate form of her rather large handler Borris Bullski.  Well her handler since the Bratva kidnapped her anyway.  Mind she wasn’t expecting them to hold her for very long.  She was a Russian national treasure and they were loathe to let her get far from their clutches.  There were probably a score of agents from the Foreign Intelligence Service and Main Intelligence Directorate slinking about this part of town… probably even double agents in the local Bratva chapter.  For that matter she was sure numerous CIA and Cadmus agents, as well as people from Hydra, Aim, and Lexcorp, were desperately looking for her since she dropped off the grid.  Speaking of the local Bratva, several men of that fraternity shuffled awkwardly behind their very annoyed boss, each too red faced and flummoxed to contribute.  

“What does it look like I’m doing comrade?”  Veronika asked, stretching briefly on her deck chair causing most of her new admirers to shiver and gasp in delight.  Even poor Borris was momentarily struck dumb as he tried not to stare at her luscious form.  

“You aren’t-!”  He snapped then turned and took a few deep breaths before speaking again.  “Anatoly Knyazev hired you to build him a super weapon. I just want you to build the damn thing not-”

“Not what?”

“Not lounge naked on the freaking roof!”  

“Look Mr Bullski,” Veronika sighed as Borris finally spit the words out he’d been trying to say for the few minutes.  The weapon designer did not move from her chair though switching the cross of her legs caused one of the observers to almost buckle.  “I don’t know if you realize it but your Anatoly Knyazev burned a lot of favors with the homeland to get me here to listen to his wish list.  I arrived.  I listened.  He told me what he wanted and I said I could build it.  But I need things, yeah?  Is a big project and he needs very special facilities and tools for me to use.  I’m not talking about a garage workshop or piddly nuclear facility, I’m going to need a full factory cathedral.  In other words, I need a facility which isn’t just advanced, it needs to be beyond cutting edge.  He needs very special materials, Sturginium, Jade, Orichalcum.  Materials he does not have.  He gets angry with me and orders his men to throw me in his homebrew jail until I do what he wants.  Nichevo, there is nothing I can do until either he gets what I need or changes his mind about what he wants me to build.  So I tell your guard Andrei I am sick of being stuck in my room and he agrees to let me come up here and use the deck and pool as long as I am watched.  I don’t mind being watched so here I am.”

“He just wants a god damned set of combat armor and I’ve seen the lab he showed you.  It has all the bells and whistles.”

“Nyet, he wants a warmachine that can challenge the mightiest men and aliens on Earth.  I tell him I can do this.  I need facilities, special materials.  He gives me a car repair shop and simple titanium and street weapons to work with.  Cannot be done.  Finished product will be too big, too slow, not tough enough.  Is fine if he wants to be some trite Titanium Man wrecking tanks and terrorizing infantry platoons, but he tells me he wants to fight Superman, Wonder Woman, and Stark’s metal bodyguard.  I agree, is good project.  Ambitious.  Challenging.  Still cannot do it with what he has.”

Borris sighed.  “Look then just build the titanium suit, we can use that.”

“Nyet, my pride, my reputation is on the line.  I won’t design a weapon that cannot achieve what it is designed for.  Is bad.  No.  Not doing it.”

Borris opened his mouth to say something before a shadowed form sailed over the edge of the roof and hit him like a hammer.  Young and lithe he moved like a gymnast turned brawler and hit her captors like a wrecking ball.

She wasn’t a fighter of any kind but she cast a predatory look to the new arrivals armor.  The weapons were an incredible disappointment.  He used them well.  Twirling them both to distract his foes and to target vulnerable points.  A wrist was broken, a knee knocked out of position, a disorienting thrust to a skull.  Still, a pair of metal sticks that could be built in any high school machine shop by a drunk student could hardly hold her interest any longer than the second or two it took for the arrival to thrash a pair of her guards.  

A bug or something stung her arm and she brushed it aside before refocusing on the hero bouncing around like agitated bee.  His armor was strange.  At a glance it was a form fitting body suit of rubber but she discounted it immediately.  Not flexible enough for some of the maneuvers he performed.  Certainly an aramid, a heat resistant synthetic fiber.  He performed an aerial triple spin kick causing his head to nearly reach his ankles and her eyes to almost pop.  Not at his flexibility.  That was just training.  But that his armor could handle the maneuver, that was something precious.  No conventional aramid could do that.  Some new formula alloying the synthetic fibers with some type of liquefied metal- too heavy.  Maybe a magical solution?  Threading gossamer into the armor could work but would likely cause pox effects and mutation after prolonged exposure to gossamers inherent unreality…

“Dr Tambov?” The hero twitched as and his eyes boggled as he took in her form.  

“I’m called Nightwing” he stuttered a bit, “and I’m here to rescue you.”   

“…thanks.”  Veronika mumbled half halfheartedly as she admired the ceramic of the blue bit on his chest.  Clever, ceramics were uniquely capable of resisting heat and various types of energy.  

The pair stood silently for a moment with each inspecting the other closely.

Nightwing coughed.  “Could you… get dressed.  Doctor?”  

Not wanting to walk down three flights of stairs she shrugged and borrowed the now unconscious Borris’s shirt and pants.  She hated clothes.  Especially baggy ones.  They hung like dead weight.  The belt barely kept the pants on.  She didn’t bother with the shoes.  Her self proclaimed rescuer watched her dress though he chivalrously tried to look away his gaze couldn’t stay off her more than a second.  

“Now hold on and I’ll get you out of here.” Proclaimed the strange man picked her up bridal style. 


 

There is a rule in the multi-verse.  I-Hop asks no questions.  Immigrants, randy teenagers, johns and prostitutes, drunk drivers, post-game D&Ders, criminals, police, none drew comments from the night shift or fellow diners.  Even a super hero and his most recent rescue were free from the questions that would have plagued them anywhere else.  It was something Nightwing had taken advantage of before.  Sometimes you needed to talk to the victims of crimes, people you rescued, or even criminals in a place that wasn’t an alley.  Somewhere you could put them at ease and spend the half an hour really grilling them before you decided what exactly you needed to do with them.  Dr Tambov was one of those unique cases.  

She idly cut into her pancake.  He gulped as she raised it to her mouth, syrup dripping from the fork, her teeth were white as polished pearls and her lips- he downed his steaming cup of coffee, using the scalding pain to distract himself.  Dick wasn’t a stranger to aliens, magic, and all around weirdness.  Veronika clearly wasn’t normal.  Mutant maybe?  She’d been hit with a stray round during the rescue- and not only didn’t flinch she barely seemed to register it, and… she was stunning.  Too stunning.  He knew dozens of incredibly gorgeous women from girls next door like Barbara to exotic aliens like Starfire or unusual humans like Wonder Woman.  Doctor Tambov was not girl next door stunning.  Not supermodel stunning.  She was break your neck when she walked by stunning.  Too perfect.

 Batman had missed that.  The second Dr Tambov was scheduled to come to Gotham Batman had given him nearly a hundred page report on her and a painstaking summary on why she could not be taken by Gotham’s criminal underground.  It had covered her scientific credentials in agonizing detail, covering fields he wouldn’t have understood with a team from star labs to explain them.  Methane Oceanology, Minovsky Physics, Non-Euclidean Mathematics, Archanotechnology, Metaphysical Biology, and a host of more mundane physics and engineering degrees.  One of the most capable minds on the planet who’d devoted her life to building some of the deadliest weapons ever built.  Still, you think there would have been a mention that she wasn’t just a scientist.  

“So,” Dick focused on his own food as he talked, definitely not staring at her.  He took another drink of coffee and signaled the waiter for more. “Is there somewhere safe I can take you?”

“I am in America on visa from Russia’s Sturginium Project,” Her voice was like a sunny day at the beach.  Warm.  Inviting.  Even rejuvenating.  It was so welcoming that part of him desperately wanted to ignore the fact she’d built more weapons than Lex Luthor.  The other part of him was still horrified at the thought of what she may have been doing for the local bratva and Gotham’s other criminal families.

“Officially I am in America to give, lectures yes?  Speak to Gotham University about non-euclidean mathematics, consult Lexcorp subsidiaries on power regulation for new Luthor anti-orbital cannons, Oscorp on stuginium power for small repulsion fields, Veidt Industries on neutron jammer, Weyland-Yutani for, ah, a few more little things.  Not forgetting meeting with Anatoly Knyazev as favor to General Nikolai Alexandrovich Zakharov.  Favor I am considering squared.  Still, I am going to be here for some months yes?  I am having diplomatic immunity but Gotham City has, bad, bad reputation.  I am fearing that if I go to police these bad men will try to grab me.  Mother Russia’s wrath at me being disappeared will be great yes?  Maybe if I call Mr Luthor or Mr Osborn they will be getting me guards?”

“That may not be the best idea," Dick shuddered at the thought of what would happen if either of them got ahold of the professor.  "Here's a thought.  Let me call my boss and we’ll figure something out.”

View
Solarin & Lunara
Background
Tim:
 
When Tim turned 6 his parents and a few friends thought it would be the best time to sacrifice him try and summon a demon, you know because demons like the number 6. Well they succeeded but the demon being what is was did not grant the wish of the summoners but the victim.
 
In his pain all Tim could think of was ending the pain and hurt the people who hurt him. The demon made a deal with Tim. For the knowledge to hurt others he would take an eye, and for the ability to hurt others he would take an arm. In a pain fueled cry Tim agreed. In one agonizing strike the demon tore off Tim's right arm, and in another removed Tim's right eye. Then amazingly the pain stopped. Though later Tim figured his body just temporarily turned off his ability to feel pain. With his mind no longer being tormented the knowledge given to him emerged. All light was extinguished with the exception of the candles. Tim took his time extinguishing each one as those who hurt him started "drowning" in the darkness he created. Once all the candles were out he transformed his one hand into claws and eviscerated all who were not dead including his own parents.
 
Since this happened in a cabin that was out of the way, probably since the adults didn't want to be caught, Tim had to find the road so he could get back to society. Luckily he found the road and a tourist found him. Once he was in the car Tim passed out, only to awaken in a hospital.
When questioned all he said was that his parents didn't want him so they dumped him in the wild. Though most were confused since his wounds while they looked old the doctors discovered they were made recently. After the police questioned Tim, they started an investigation, but surprisingly were unable to find either of Tim's parents or any of their closest friends. After a couple days, since Tim's wounds were healed he was released, but since no relatives wanted to take him in he went to an orphanage.
 
Tim was at the orphanage for about a year before he disappeared…
 
Racheal:
 
Racheal moved out of her parents house at 19, partly because she was going to collage and mostly because she was tired of listening to her parents fight. In collage Richael was pretty average in her studies, but excelled at gymnastics, and was a better then average singer. Her one bad habit was that she was a little to trusting of guys. In 2 years she had been with 5 guys all whom she either caught cheating on her or stealing from her.
 
Her last boyfriend took her out on her 21st birthday and invited all his friends. Then they proceed
to slip her a drug. She woke up naked and being violated in the back of a van under a bridge.
But as the guys were getting ready to switch again complete and utter darkness descended on all of them. This darkness was so complete it seemed to even muffle sound.
 
"Do you want them to pay" said a young male voice?
 
"Yes" she whimpered.
 
"I will make a deal with you then. Abandon all you know now and serve me. I will never require
you to this, unless you want. I will even help you achieve whatever your dream is. But in return you will be my shield, and help me achieve my dream. Do you agree, or should I leave?"
 
"Save me."
 
"Do you agree," he says in a impatient voice.
 
"Yes," she cried.
 
Then in the muffled darkness her assaulters screamed. When the darkness lifted, all of the men who were assaulting her were dead with horrendous wounds on them, and one boy was standing over them. Racheal only saw one arm and when he turned to her he had a patch over one eye.
 
"Lunara," he said blandly. "This is nice work you did," he smiles. "I think it is worthy of calling you the Witch of Darkness."
 
"M..m..my name is Racheal." she stammers
 
"Not anymore. You are darkness, and I am the light. Solarin."
 
"H..how old are you?"
 
"7"
 
"Makes sense" she chuckles, while shakily getting up and finding her clothes. Making sure to avoid the bodies.
 
"You will have to get use to this" as he goes through their pockets taking their money.
 
Solarin & Lunara in Gotham:
 
"You are good, "Witch of Darkness"" says a redhead with a weird accent, looking at Solarin.
Solarin & Lunara both turn quickly Solarin with blood dripping off his hands and Lunara recovering from the darkness. Solarin charges.
 
"Whoa, wait" easily dodging his strike, "I have a proposal for you two" she states.
 
"What" Solarin replies, circling the redhead
 
"I will help you two keep your facade, you won't need that," she says looking at Lunara who starts to pull her gun.
 
"You are starting to get the attention of powerful people. You need a haven or you will both die."
 
"And why should we trust you," Solarin spits.
 
"Because, I can help you get stronger" flashing her power briefly.
 
Eyes lighting up  "How," he says hungrily,
 
"Sol, be careful." Lunara says
 
Coughing, "we will see" he says trying to reclaim his composure.
 
"My name in Henley," the red head states. "Lets go. we have to get you two initiated."
 
"Can you keep us strait," Lunara asks? "I AM the Witch of Darkness"
 
"No not the darkness, not again," cowers Solarin
 
"Ohh… this will be fun" Henley says. "Just like a magic show." Smiling. "Yea, I can play along," bowing to Lunara "Oh Witch of Darkness."
View
Welcome to your campaign!
A blog for your campaign

Wondering how to get started? Here are a few tips:

1. Invite your players

Invite them with either their email address or their Obsidian Portal username.

2. Edit your home page

Make a few changes to the home page and give people an idea of what your campaign is about. That will let people know you’re serious and not just playing with the system.

3. Choose a theme

If you want to set a specific mood for your campaign, we have several backgrounds to choose from. Accentuate it by creating a top banner image.

4. Create some NPCs

Characters form the core of every campaign, so take a few minutes to list out the major NPCs in your campaign.

A quick tip: The “+” icon in the top right of every section is how to add a new item, whether it’s a new character or adventure log post, or anything else.

5. Write your first Adventure Log post

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.

That’s it! The rest is up to your and your players.

View

I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.