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  2. ic

    Winifred gave Robin a long, flat look while she worked to rephrase her initial response to her friend's assurances into something marginally less scathing. Eventually she settled on, "Yes, I can see how repeated concussions would work wonders for clearing one's head." She threw away another cotton ball and applied an adhesive bandage over Robin's wrist. "Certainly better than talking a problem over with a confidant. And as an added benefit, had something gone wrong we would have had no idea of where to begin looking for you. Top marks across the board, really. Well done." She grumbled to herself while rising and walking around the other girl, sitting back down on the opposite side and holding out her hand. "Other arm," she demanded, disinfectant at the ready.
  3. Today
  4. Leviathan just couldn't get enough praise, and continued to smile goofily. He opened up the other rooms one by one--the doors themselves were round, interlocking bone-petal portals like they had seen before--even though the individual baths weren't all that special. Big pools of water generally looked alike, aside from the level of mist rising from the surface. The proper steam rooms might be a little unusual in that they didn't have collections of heated rocks or other traditional causes, instead just maintained by the ship's inner functions. And in case it wasn't obvious, bountiful food continued to grow from nearly everywhere. If Bonfire liked the vegetation statues, though, then he'd find plenty more. Most were "aliens" like his guide, but there were a few ancient humans in this part of the ship too. Leviathan named them as they went, mostly famous Romans like Julius Caesar and Augustus. "I modeled them on the marble busts and statues that survived from the Empire," he explained. "Hopefully those were accurate, since the goal here is to show that my ancestors actually saw these people firsthand. I guess I should avoid bringing time travelers down here, just in case I've made obvious mistakes."
  5. Gabriel first sent a message on the League-only channel to the others. "This is Gabriel to all points, I'm going to try and guide them in for landing; they seem a bit fixated on me already. Expect...oddness." Well that's not ominous at all. Still, Gabriel finds himself hovering calmly between the ship and the landing pad, smile on his face, even as he switches his comm frequency to the one being used by the ship. "Stellar Ochlocracy vessel, I am Gabriel, and I am going to help guide you to your landing zone. Please follow as closely as possible. We have prepared a landing pad for you. I would be open to discussions of theology, but I have found those tend to be more productive when sitting face to face. We will partake of nutrition together and discuss these things soon." He's all smiles and charm as he says this, beckoning the ship onward with a wave as he turns to guide it down to the platform Gaian Knight quick-formed from the ground.
  6. ic

    Even though they were already near the water, this wasn't the best location to raise a living alien submarine from the depths, so some more privacy was in order. Once the heroes moved a little out of the city proper, Leviathan transformed, summoned his ride, and ferried both of them down to his hidden base. He started to wonder if Ph0enix might be able to track Bonfire by his phone, but it seemed unlikely unless she had physical access to it for a while. Otherwise, she'd need good connections with his service provider, or government moles, and if either was true, they'd have bigger problems. Leviathan tried to think of other things, and when they arrived at his home and climbed out of the sub into the docking bay, he asked, "Do you birdwatch? As part of your photography?"
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    "We're pretty sure it's exactly the kind of place for our shenanigans," Grim dryly observed, gesturing at the damage. "We were asked to help take a look. Got badges and everything," he added, flashing his own with carefully-cultivated disinterest. "I mean, you could try to drive us out, I guess. We're here to help, and we wanna help, but I wouldn't blame you. You could, what, set the dogs loose on us?" He waved his badge in the vague direction of the doorway, where three large, smoke-furred hounds had been sniffing at the ground; they brought their heads up like one creature, eyes like round burning coals turning to look at the office worker. "I mean, I brought mine," the young psychopomp drawled, trying to scope out the area as best he could. The dogs, in perfect unison, cocked their heads in canine curiosity. "What did you bring?"
  8. 9PP worth of edits on Ditra! Skills: 1PP = 4 Ranks of Disguise Modified Diplomatic Shell: 4PP = 4 ranks of Morph with Flaw 2PP = +2 Protection Sensory Package: 1PP = 1 rank of Super-Senses (Infravision) Tactical Package: 1PP = +1 Accurate on Blast Please note her as PL10/10 in the header
  9. Yesterday
  10. ic

    Min returned to the living room with a tray of snacks. She didn't really expect anyone to each, maybe nibble or two, but the tray of cut vegetables, crackers and cheeses was more to give people something to do with their hands. Or to keep their mouths occupied so awkward silences were just slightly less awkward. After she set the tray down she returned to Erik's side, giving her husband a small sad smile with a hint of apology. She rested a hand on his shoulder then trailed it down his back. "Considering the way I acted last time this subject arose," she said quietly, "I did not think it appropriate for me to bring it up again. That isn't to say it should not be discussed, only that I have forfeit my right to the discussion."
  11. Reflex Save: 1d20+10 17 Full Effect for Null, automatically full effect for the others Null: Toughness: 1d20+11 23 Nacht: Toughness Save: 1d20+9 27 Owen: Toughness: 1d20+4 18 Fall: Toughness Save: 1d20+5 20 So Null just avoids damage, the others get roughed up a bit
  12. Moves the ground sphere up. Ad then smacks teh other one into it. Hard, and slams that one back into the jerkface on the ground.
  13. ic

    GM The energy struck its target. He looked at least somewhat surprised, as it took him off his feet, and made him drop onto the ground. Just as he impacted, however, something pushed against Zenith, as well as everything else in the area. The bubbles moved slightly, the trees looked like there was strong wind, some branches cracked. Zenith didn’t really care, she was able to dodge whatever had pushed it all outwards. Solid air, perhaps? It had pushed against her shortly, before it had simply left her standing, and affected things behind her. She was now towering over her opponent, lying on the ground, but already ready to move again. An opportunity Jann wouldn’t let go to waste. As soon as Null had hit the ground, Jann already had charged forwards, landing on his chest, his feet to the side so getting up would be more difficult. At which point, the Avian yelled out something, and, quite literally, tore into his opponent, unleashing a flurry of swipes from his claws, not stopping for even a moment, just continuing to attack. One slash after another, at least some going through whatever was shielding his opponent, and drawing some blood of their own. Which made it hard to tell which blood belonged to whom.
  14. Jann will attack, then! Null's prone, so -4. Which means Jann's gonna go for a full -5 Att +5 Dam. Attack: 1d20+8 26 Huh, that's a crit. And Autofired ... Defense 12, down to 8 because Prone. That's a difference of 8, so 4 extra Damage. 7 + 5 + 5 + 4, for a total of 21, so a DC36 Save. Toughness Save: 1d20+12 29 That's a Bruise + Daze.
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    "...And with that, we're at fifteen." Vita Nexus shivered slightly at the unnatural cold. The couple who were about to end up as easy pickings for this set of street toughs had long since vanished - Vita hoped the young woman would forgive her beau for breaking and running so quickly when the lights dimmed and things took a turn for the unusual. He was fairly sure he would have done the same, given the circumstances. Taking a brief moment to check each of the wannabe muggers' vital signs for pulse and wellbeing - two men and three women, all wiry and with the look of people who got food regularly, but not often enough - he stepped out of the street proper and into a shop alcove before returning the street ambiance to normal. The street lights penetrated the chilling gloom within seconds, the moon shining down on a lone figure standing amidst five unconscious forms, unusually cold in the deep of night. Vita reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone to attract the police to handle the crooks, but something stopped him. During the fight, something had caught his attention. It was a minor thing, something almost everybody else might have missed - but Vita could feel it sitting on the one who hung back from the fight. An unusual attachment, a fondness for something. Something on their person. "...Perhaps there is more here than I first fathomed." Vita muttered to himself as he knelt to investigate the person of interest. He would call the police once he had sated his curiosity. Who knows if they'd be able to follow up this lead?
  16. Ref: 1d20+6 10 Fail Ref Dex: 1d20+3 21 But she don't go down easy
  17. Nacht: Toughness Save: 1d20+10 18 Owen: Toughness: 1d20+4 9 Fall: Toughness Save: 1d20+6 20 Some damage happens, then Null's up again. He'll do Trip 10 (Extras: Knockback, Area (Burst), Flaws: Range (Touch)) So that's a Reflex DC20, followed by either a DC20 STR/DEX or a DC15 STR/DEX Jann: Reflex Save: 1d20+12 32 wastes his crit. C'mon buddy. Dex: 1d20+8 15 just barely makes it. Gonna wait for your roll, then do Jann's actions and the post itself
  18. “Wow. At this point I’m not sure what I can say that I haven’t said before. This stuff’s amazing. This is the sort of luxury you can’t find anywhere that’s not a few thousand bucks a day. And you just have it all down here. I mean, we had a sauna back home, but that was more because my dad’s a big fan. “ “This statue … this is a work of art. Not that the rest of all of this isn’t, mind you. But this, no idea how you did it, but man. Different fruits, all coming together to create it. This is just … yeah. No words. “ He walked around the room a bit, taking a closer look at the statue especially, but also the doors, and the general design. “I suppose I can take a few quick snapshots, then we can head onwards. “
  19. ic

    PC Truth be told, it was unsettling. At this point, it really wasn’t a secret identity anymore. AEGIS, Solemn, her, and a bunch of his colleagues all knew who Bonfire really was. It wasn’t an enormous issue, sure. He didn’t rely on something not part of his body when it came to powers, and he wasn’t home that often anyways. And so far, nobody seemed like the kind of people that would kidnap family. So it really wasn’t that big of a deal, right? He had more important things to worry about. Like everything that was currently happening. “Sounds like a plan. Time’s on our side, whatever happens, it won’t happen until tomorrow or Saturday. I doubt a nightclub, even one for basement dwellers, is open during the week. Plus, if nothing else, I can spend the time birdwatching.” He laughed for a bit, then calmed himself back down and looked back at Leviathan. “Okay, you lead the way!”
  20. Okay! Only thing I can spot now is 44+16+7+10+46+78-2 adding up to 199, so you've got one spare point.
  21. ic

    Moira smirked at the cute little scene. The two woman felt comfortable with each other, at least, and Moira found that very comfortable herself. Moira felt that way around most of her friends. Moira nodded at the observation, "we'll get to common ground. Hopefully." She met Lynn with a close but friendly hug and a kiss on the cheek. "So, landlady Lynn," she said looking in to her possibly new roommate's eyes, "dinner tonight. At our place? I offered it and Gretchen suggested spaghetti. I'm not opposed. I have some friends who I can visit later today." She paused, "come to think of it, this was kind of a short visit. I can stick around for a while," she sighed happily and backed off, "if you want me to."
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    "Spaghetti would be good, with lots of mushrooms and garlic," she said matter-of-factly. "And cheesy garlic bread and red wine." And with that, she abruptly headed for the door. "I need to get back on the floor." This was not intended to be rude; she just felt that they'd covered everything that needed to be discussed, and it was time to get back to work. As she reached the door, she nearly ran into Lynn on her way back in. "Everything okay- oh!" "We're good," Gretch simply offered by way of explanation; this left the changeling standing awkwardly in the doorway. Lynn jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "She, uh...sometimes she just leaves like that."
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    Something struck her and it made her take a step back, and she blinked a little bit, as she was aware of him doing something, and the pain... but... She sneered then as she looked at him. "Fine. FINE!" The shimmering around her became more, sharper, before it burst out in a violent swirling outpouring of energy, as it spiraled around her counter to the pirouette she did, before leveling her eyes back onto him. Her brilliant coruscating power struck at him, and then knocked him down as it hit him in two different directions. "You brought this on yourselves!"
  24. It's selective, and I'd argue that everyone else is covered.
  25. ooc

    Yeah it's just fluff for the Diplomacy.
  26. ooc

    Sounds good to me. Be sure not to miss her post; it's above my latest update. Tiff, Miss Grue isn't actually using any of her psionics from a game mechanics standpoint, right? You're just giving flavor to your Diplomacy check? I wanted to make sure.
  27. ic

    GM The Night (and Days) Before After her friends (well, allies) were taken in by the police, Julia Cole's hardest task was finding new representatives who could actually interact with the world at normal speeds. Her husband was wholly unsuited to the task, and she herself could only accomplish so much with written notes. She made numerous forays into the city, gradually widening her routes--mostly following Freedom City's waterways for safety--and searching for possible candidates. By definition, she needed criminals. Normal people wouldn't want to do what she required, and in any case wouldn't be good at guarding and motivating hostages anyway, but this raised new problems. First, she had to find such individuals with only frozen glimpses into their lives, like stepping into photographs. Except when she came across someone in the midst of a crime, she had little way of knowing who might fit her criteria. When she did see active misconduct, she wasn't always comfortable with its nature. On multiple occasions, some poor citizen was about to suffer a horrible fate, only to blink and find that their assailant was now scattered across the alley or room, the pieces often on fire. To further complicate the issue, Julia felt wary of organized crime. How could she be sure that members of a proper syndicate would obey her instead of their previous bosses? Payment and threats of violence only went so far. She had learned that the Delacroix family enjoyed a long history in Freedom City; who could say what gangs were secretly on their payroll? Julia agonized over her choices for ages, paranoid thanks to her extreme isolation. In the end, she took what she saw as the safest option. She had found a street gang of kids in their late teens based not far from her hidden bunker. After checking in on them for another week--it cannot be stressed how much patience this required, given her viewpoint of time--for any signs that they might have ties to bigger fish, she finally made contact. They weren't much to look at. Titled simply after the name and street of their high school--which the members hardly attended and, with only two exceptions, inevitably dropped out--Foster and 8th, or the F8s, the West End's nature as an ethnic melting pot brought about some intriguing results. Most of these kids were of mixed heritage, or unattractive to the standard gangs for other reasons, and initially banded together for protection. In a strange way, it was impressive how they overcame longstanding barriers, albeit mostly in the name of getting high and mugging the occasional lone pedestrian. That was how Julia came to notice them, and took to haunting the basement where they generally hung out. It was owned by the parents of their unofficial leader and the eldest at nineteen years old, Luca, a mostly Hispanic and Tai young man with a dash of Brazilian. After stealing all the ice from the freezer and using it to cool off a little, Julia went downstairs and propped her handheld whiteboard up against the TV; her note boiled down to "You all work for me now." She left for a while and came back to find them standing up, mostly surprised and confused, although a few of the boys looked to be nervously laughing. A spark of frustration made Julia put her fist through the wall with ease, but she resisted the urge to hurt anybody just yet. Instead, she went back out to the street, down to a local jewelry store, robbed it--she used a broom from the custodial closet to break the display cases and sweep the glass out of the air; she learned by now that she had to be careful of those little shards, or they'd break into dust against her durable skin and make her itch--and brought back about two hundred grand in ornaments. Julia dropped it all at Luca's feet, went home for a nap, and came back again. Nobody was laughing that time. And so, to the present (sort of): despite lingering anxiety, Dr. Delacroix listened to the gang's side of this story with skepticism. They were largely delighted about the arrangement, especially once they learned that their new patron had some kind of connection to fire, which everyone agreed was very cool. Opinions varied on exactly who or what they served, but they already abandoned their old gang name and now went by "The Arsonists" and dressed in red. This is just dumb, Tristan thought. I've seen real supervillain gangs, and they don't operate like this. Maybe, maybe they got caught up with some old, washed up guy who can't scrounge up anybody better than half a dozen teens. It'd have to be a seriously feeble villain to use mystery to control these kids; whoever it is, they're too scared to show their face, and that says a lot. If they exist at all... Admittedly, Tristan's resolve shook a little when he first went to the whiteboard and started to write, Who are you? He got halfway through "are" before his message vanished and was replaced by, Doesn't matter. You have the blood samples you wanted. Fix me. WORK. This led neatly into another problem (and then another theory): the lab he'd been taken to was decades outdated, its equipment last relevant in the eighties, and even then, focused more toward tech and gadgets than medical study. Tristan already doubted that he could do much here, and his fellow doctors reached the same conclusion; they didn't need to discuss it to keep this information to themselves for now. Their guards might be inexperienced, but they already demonstrated a willingness for violence. Tristan didn't think they'd go as far as murder, though, now that he had a look at them; Luca was the only one with a gun, and when he wasn't talking up his troops or snapping orders at the scientists, he actually looked a little nervous. So, Tristan's theory: Luca, probably alone, had found this bunker somehow and claimed a few devices left behind by its previous owner. He was now using them secretly to trick the other teens and his hostages. Why, Tristan wasn't yet sure, but he felt more and more confident about his idea. If nothing else, it calmed his nerves to believe that he was only dealing with a weird Wizard of Oz pay-no-attention-to-the-man-behind-the-curtain scenario. He could go through these kids like tissue paper if he found an opportunity to shift; that was his only real problem. It was pretty frustrating to be trapped more by his own secrecy than the peril around him. On some level he realized that risking his own life was one thing, but gambling with his FCI teammembers just to preserve Leviathan's privacy was highly irresponsible, to say nothing of unheroic. He countered this by promising himself that they weren't actually in serious danger, and if that changed, then so could he. After all, he wasn't the first hero to hesitate on matters of secret identity, right? Everything was sure to work out fine. He just had to be clever. And I can definitely outsmart a few high school dropouts. If I can get out of here, just through the front doors and out of sight for a bit, I can come back with scales and put a quick end to this. I just need to figure out how. And I guess, where here even is. That'd be useful information to have. ...Although...maybe I don't need to go that route. I'm not sure what Luca really wants with this whole game, but I can probably convince them to go for ransom instead. Or just make them like me, so they give themselves up. There's a name for that. The opposite of Stockholm Syndrome. Can't remember it, exactly, but it's a thing. Yeah, that could work! And it's better than bringing in Leviathan anyway; unless we're near the Bay, his involvement would seem awfully convenient. Tristan set his team to work on the vials of blood and turned his attention to the gang members. He first directed his attention to a huge teen bursting with fat and muscle, mostly Caucasian and owner of a hilariously bad goatee, and his smaller friend whose heritage was so multifaceted that he just thought of himself as "Mediterranean." Tristan gathered that their names were Anthony and Marco, although the latter now insisted that everyone call him "Blaze" and kept playing with a lighter. "So...how do you sell that jewelry, anyway?" Tristan asked as he toyed with a microscope that was older than himself. "The stuff your new boss brought you." "You just gotta know the right people," Anthony said. Eyebrows scrunched around the room, however, and Tristan wondered if this was the first time they actually thought about how to move stolen goods without being quickly caught. "Ahh. I was just curious, is all. ...And I mean, I'm sure it's worth a lot, but you know that I'm worth more, right? I have to say, this isn't my first kidnapping, but it's the first time that I wasn't being sold back for the price of a private island." "Because you're working," Luca reminded him, taking interest now. "So work." ...I am really going to enjoy throwing you through a wall. Just wait. Juuuuuust wait. Tristan tilted his eyes down toward his equipment. Trying to sound subdued instead of bitter, he asked Dr. West, "Do you have those blood films ready yet?" "Almost, almost." After a long silence, Anthony leaned in a little. "How much are you worth?" "He's working," Luca reminded his friend. "I'm just curious." Tristan said a number that made even his team pause and look at him. Another silence followed, until Luca just said, "Bull----." "I mean, that's not all just sitting in a bank. I'm not Scrooge McDuck. Most of it is FCI stock, and the rest of my portfolio. I have to make some calls if I want more than a few million at a time. You know how it is." Tristan had never set foot in a K-12 school before, let alone gone through the public system, but on a whim he tilted his head toward the biggest of the teens and joked, "That made it harder for guys like this to steal my lunch money." He earned some laughs, not fully understanding the notes he hit with these kids who were often victims of bullying themselves before they turned to the other side of that cycle, often ineffectively until tonight. Around the room, Tristan thought he saw new ideas swirling in their eyes, and even Luca was quiet. Oh man, this is so going to work. Whether they let their guard down and I can get away for long enough to change, or they ransom me, or just let us all go, we are out of here. It's only a matter of time. I do kind of hope I don't need Leviathan, just this once. That'd be awesome, if I can beat this just as Tristan. He couldn't help but smile, already daydreaming about the newspaper headlines and interviews. Everyone would tell him how brave and smart he'd been under pressure. The guards looked calmer and more cheerful too, and even though the older scientists were smart enough to conceal their hopes, they also sensed the possibilities here. Then Tristan blinked, and he was lying on the floor with a face full of splinters. The desk he'd sat at, now broken almost in half, collapsed on top of him. Through a daze, pain beginning to flood in, he could hear someone start to scream in the background. It kind of set a new tone for the rest of the night.
  28. ic

    "Aw, Fred, I'm sorry," Robin apologized, looking contrite as she sat still for any ministrations that might have stung. It wasn't like Robin didn't have a significant pain tolerance; the 'advantage' of spending nights turning herself into the aforementioned pulpy mess. "I didn't even think you'd be worried - not that you don't care, I mean! It just, you know, didn't occur to me that anyone' would be wondering where I was." Which, really, was Robin's problem in a nutshell. Oh, she'd happily worry about her friends but it didn't really cross her mind that they might be worried about her. Robin flexed her hands once or twice against the tape before she began to unwind it as clearly today's exercises were over anyway. "There's nothing to worry about, though. I've just been thinking and I do that best when I'm busy."
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