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About Sszinid

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  • Birthday 04/22/1993

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  1. Nice hit! The Coffinmaker is staggered and stunned. Gideon is also stunned this round, so that brings us back to Amelyth's turn!
  2. GM Almost the moment the Coffinmaker turned around, Amelyth was on him. The force of her sudden blow fell, for the first time, squarely on his broad chest. Ribs cracked, and those monstrous, glowing eyes widened in disbelief as the hulking villain flew backwards into the gunfire-shattered produce display. He lay there amidst broken glass and drifting parsley leaves, the splitting grin wiped from his face as he shook with shock and fury. His impotent struggle to free himself from aluminum shelving was not what he wanted Channel 9 to see. "So you have some teeth, little dog," he wheezed. "Fine. I shall extract them one by one!" Across the store, atop a pile of thoroughly-crushed Doritos, Gideon groaned. Everything hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken, so he struggled back to his feet as quickly as he could make his aching limbs respond. Unfortunately, that wasn't very quickly.
  3. As Downtime's fist caught Gideon in the cheekbone, spinning him around and slamming him into the corridor wall, it occurred to the young vigilante that he was, for the second time in as many weeks, badly outclassed. He managed to get his arms up in time to avoid breaking his nose as he stumbled headfirst into the side of the hall, rebounding in time to watch Arrowhawk let fly. He could feel a broad bruise taking shape beneath his right eye; hopefully nothing was broken. Outclassed he was, but what could he do? He was in the thick of it now, and the other heroes would be outnumbered without him. And potentially with him, if these goons managed to free the prisoner they'd come for. All he could do was fight his hardest, recognizing that he had a good chance to ending up as the new rug for this particular bet of prison. Steadying himself as best he could, he re-lit his glimmering psiblade and charged with a hearty shout. He was nowhere near as fast as Downtime; the comparison was laughable. But he was fast enough to pull some of the same tricks. And as he reached the villains he shut his eyes and let his mind guide his hand faster than the eye could follow, spinning his light-drinking psiblade out toward the three foes he could reach. He would likely be done for in the next few seconds, but this was his only way of contributing to the battle. He planned to use it while he could. "This... is going to hurt," he mumbled, trying to stay agile in the aftermath of his attack, his eyes half-shut.
  4. Shoot, sorry! Got working on a damn paper and totally lost track of things here. Mindsteel charges at the group of villains with his psiblade, using the Area Attack extra of his super-speed to get an attack versus each of them. He's going to miss Downtime, just barely hit Sandstone, and probably miss (21) Gamma. That's a DC20 Will Save for Sandstone and possibly Gamma.
  5. Sounds good. Whenever you're ready.
  6. This is going to hurt... Yes, yes it did. Mindsteel is staggered and stunned. He has 1 HP, which he uses to reroll that save. He then becomes only bruised, though with 0 HP.
  7. I'm always looking for new threads for Mindsteel, so I'd be down for anything. They're both PL7, so that could work nicely. Did you have any specific type of thread in mind? Any place you want to start working her towards?
  8. Mindsteel >The Legend Lives (35) >Well, This Is Awkward (7) >Cry for Justice (5) GM >Well, This Is Awkward (7)
  9. He awoke without his mask and goggles. It was all over. His back felt tight; he tried to reach for it, but the IV hose stopped him. A gentle touch stilled his other arm. "Don't touch your stitches." It was a woman's voice, calm and patient. He opened his eyes and felt his breath catch. She sat beside his cot, a concerned little smile on that famous face of hers. She was in her mid to late fifties but aging gracefully, accepting the grey in her curly, shoulder-length hair and the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. "So everyone knows, then," Gideon said, his voice bitter. He'd blown it on his second day, taking too many risks and ending up empty-handed in spite of it all. But her voice stopped him. "No. You can trust the people here to keep your secret, Gideon. You can trust me." He was surprised she knew his name, but with her resources it couldn't have been difficult to find out. "Thank you for saving my life," he said, squeezing his eyes shut. "I hope to help everyone who comes through those doors," she replied, looking wistfully out the windows toward the Boardwalk. "Your friend will be fine, by the by." There was a hint of a southern drawl to her words, though she was Freedom born and bred. "I take it your night didn't go quite as planned." She turned back to him, eyes twinkling. "But I hope it won't be the last night you try. We could do so much together, you and I." Starstruck, Gideon managed to shake her soft, wrinkled hand. Perhaps this could still be just the beginning... -FIN-
  10. Monday, March 3, 2014 1:00 AM It was an awkward motorcycle ride, too. Stevie's bulk slid around behind Gideon and threatened to unseat him on every turn, and the drug dealer's scabby hands gripped him uncomfortably, digging into his sides. By the time he arrived, Gideon felt exhausted and lightheaded; the Donorcycle skidded on a puddle and deposited them both on their backsides just in front of the clinic. It was a herculean effort to get up again; all he wanted to do was sleep. But he managed to regain his feet, pull Stevie back up, and stagger toward the automatic doors. The building was two stories, whitewashed concrete and glass, the sort of place that inspired serenity while saving on building costs. Gideon's vision swam, his steps becoming less and less certain. His feet tingled, then went numb. But as he felt his weight moving forward, the glass doors slid open and a pair of orange-vested volunteers ran out. He collapsed against them, spilling Stevie onto the pavement. Everything hurt, but it was a distant pain. He'd been an idiot to go in alone, he realized. It was a mistake he might not even live to repeat. He was dimly aware of the stretcher that another pair of volunteers brought for him, of calm but forceful voices telling him to stay awake, to fight through the pain. But in the end, he no longer had the strength to obey. The sleep that took him was deep and full of nightmares.
  11. It was an awkward trek up the steps; Stevie had been beaten up pretty badly on his way down to the altar, Gideon's knife wound was still oozing, and neither of them trusted the other much, leading to a strange dance of half supporting one another and half keeping one another at a distance. Even so, they beat the police cars and disappeared into the alleys of the Boardwalk before Freedom's finest arrived. Gideon wasn't sure how to explain how he'd gotten involved. Still, he could feel his limbs getting weaker, and Stevie needed medical attention too. But going to a hospital might well blow his secret identity, and Stevie wouldn't probably assume a set-up. Gideon wracked his brain for an alternative. The hour was late, and a light, frigid rain trickled down from pitch-black clouds, making him numb. He looked up, brushing wet hair out of the way of his goggles, and spotted it: a billboard with a picture of a smiling woman. "Stay awake," Mindsteel commanded, gritting his teeth. "I know a safe place for us."
  12. The blade swept through the two Justiciars an instant before fingers squeezed triggers, driving them to their knees. Their guns fell from their hands as they clutched their foreheads, trying to regain their concentration as their brains throbbed. Gideon, his lunge expending what little energy icy fear had given him, crashed to the floor in a heap beside one of the cultists, unable to hold up his own weight. He skinned his palms and forehead as he fell. Everything hurt. "They're beaten," he gasped. "You don't have to kill them." The Justiciars recovered a moment later. Recovering their guns, they took wary steps back. "The Neutralizer knew you wouldn't be ready," the woman said. "You are trying to save murderous fanatics, people who nearly killed you. Some day you'll understand that all you've done is let them live to kill again. But our orders are to let that happen if you force our hand. You have to see for yourself." Turning, the two of them strode up the stairs and were gone. Gideon wasn't entirely sure how long he lay there, panting hard as he tried to muster the energy to push past the pain and regain his feet. It was approaching sirens that finally forced him to his feet; he had no intention of leaving the site of his first case on a stretcher. Making his way over to Stevie, who had been remarkably quiet through all of this, he fumbled with the dealer's chains. Then he saw the reason for the silence: the man had been gagged. He pulled the gag away, and Stevie's outburst drove him a step back. "The Justiciars, man," he said in a panic, eyes wide. "They took the Boost! While you weren't looking, they got away with the Boost!"
  13. Gideon attacks the Justiciars, hitting both. The two of them fail their saves and are staggered and stunned.
  14. The Justiciars swept the room methodically, rifles at their shoulders and every step carefully measured. Even so, it didn't take them long to reach the altar. They were surprisingly gentle as they flipped Gideon over, examining the damage the blade had done. "Seven or eight stitches," the woman said, "but not life-threatening." The man nodded, his sunglasses bobbing beneath his crew cut. He reached up and fingered an earpiece. "Target secure. Condition stable." Gideon stared blearily up at his rescuers, trying not to feel utter defeat. He'd had to be rescued. Pathetic. "Confirmed," the man said, responding to something Gideon couldn't hear. "We'll mop up here and meet you at the designated location. Over and out." He offered the woman a nod, and the two of them moved away from Gideon. Taking a deep breath, the young man managed to lever himself into a sitting position, though every part of him begged to stay still. His back was frigid fire, screaming with every shift of his arms. His eyes watered. The duo moved over to the cultists who'd been left behind - what had that been that the others had escaped through, a portal? Who were these people? - and stood over the still-unconscious thugs, kicking them over onto their backs with heavy black boots. And then they raised their rifles, fingers on the triggers. Gideon's combination of dazed relief and hot self-loathing turned to ice. "Stop!" He launched himself forward, his blade extending once more...
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