MisterShoebox

Huzzah for wisdom 20. Righty-o, here we go... 1d20+5=13 Welp - not as good as BK, but not bad.

Phantasmo is quite comfortable in the freezing temperature. "This is the weather, duckies! This is the stuff that - " he took a deeep inhale of the chilly air - "That really lets you know you're alive, eh? Well...so to speak. Reminds me of when I was a lad in London and my dad and my brother went out to the corner store - run by old Mr. Wibs...of course, that wasn't his real name, but he was a good sort who let us call him that 'cause we couldn't recall his true name. Anyway - he had this big jar of toffees and always served hot cocoa to the neighborhood kids. God rest his soul." He looked over at Tanya. "Doooh...to help you out and stop you from freezing or to laugh at your misfortune and say "Told you so!" Oooh, I know - I'll do both!" He snapped his fingers and a long, warm magician's cape appeared folded in his hands. He passed it over to his assistant. "Hah. Told you so. Now warm up, Tanya - the last thing I want to tell your dad is that you froze to death on my watch."

"Oh, right - sorry, forgot to introduce MYSELF." Phantasmo said, a bit embarrassed. "Phantasmo - THE UNLIVING!" he gave a bow and rolled his top hat to the end of his arm before putting it back on his head smartly. "Undead master of the stage and of the magic therein." He flourished his wrist and a small, white buisness card appeared in his hand. "My card, good sir. Tell your friends." He presented it to the Black Knight. "Right - owch!" he muttered, rubbing his ribs where his assistant had elbowed him. "Steady on, Tanya - I need that rib. Anyway, my good...never caught your Nom de guerre, duckie, mind if you let old Phantasmo in on it? Can't go 'round calling you "Tin Can Man" or something all day, can I? That's a bit undignified." "And as to your question, Tanya - I have no idea, that was the first time I'd ever used the spell. Still, I assume our late lamented viking conquerer and true discoverer of North America - Colombus, HAH - provided this fine armored lad with transportation to wherever the shenanigans, hauntings, or other otherworldly nonsense may be occurring. Or at least a map." He gave Black Knight an expectant look.

The zombie pauses. "Well...d'you know what? I'd like that very much, old lad." He seems a little choked up - it's obvious this means a lot to him. "I mean...If it's not too much - wait, did you offer me a chance to be on the telly again?" He 'ports over to Fast Forward's side and shakes his hand vigorously. "Bloody YES I'd love to be on Telly again! D'you know how long it's been? NOt since '91, lad - Show in Paris, with the great Fundelinni - there was a chap who could hold his liquor and no mistake! Hah, we used to paint the town red' till his untimely death. Poor chap, I told him live wolverines weren't good show animals...Anyway,I'd kill for a chance to relive - hah, bad joke - my glory days!" He pauses. "ER...not kill. killing is bad, but you know what I mean! I'd love to! It's...wow! You know what? You need anything else - ANYTHING - you call on old Harry Trent! 'cause you and me - we're like THIS now." He crosses his fingers, or tries to. *CRACK*. "Ohhhh bugger..." He jams the severed fingers back on with a loud *Squelch*. He successfully crosses them this time. He snaps his fingers and a bouquet of roses appears, which he presents to the reformed villain. "Here you are, Fastie. For your missus. Token of my appreciation for your kind offer." "Here - Another drink to new friendships, duckie! Or two!" He raises his can in toast.

"....Put that down, son, you look like a right fool." the zombie said kindly, completely at ease. "And I've been smited - smote - well, killed once before, old chap. Unless you've got the right spell, you can't bloody kill me. Or kill me bloody, for that matter. Oh, right - this here's my assistant Tanya. And you are...uh..." He gave the man a once-over. "...Armor boy? The tin-can man? Something of that nature? A knight of some sort, I'm sure - but never seen you 'round Southside, so you're not a local bloke." He 'ports over to Black Knight's side. "...D'you know, that's actually quite brilliant. The armor, I mean - bet that strikes fear into the hearts of the criminals and is good for picking up ladies, eh?" He grins. It's not a pleasant sight. "...Right, so - if that was Erik the Red, d'you know if he's the bugger who's sending dreams into the heads of all and sundry?" he asked as he leaned casually against a rock.

He makes a so-so gesture. "I know OF a spell, but if I get it wrong it could prove...a bit messy. Well, not messy so much as tiring. Well...there's a small 1 to two percent chance I could explode. Or you could explode." He pauses and looks a bit wide-eyed. "That's a bit of a problem, isn't it? Magic that might make you explode - d'you know I'm starting to think that it's more trouble than it's worth? Don't get me wrong, it's brilliant at times - especially when I put on my charity shows, but I'm not conjuring great big dragons or what-not against great big evil tentacled things with massive teeth, am I?" He sips his beer. "Okay...well, let's get started, shall we? By the way - totally kidding about the exploding thing. Here we go..." He concentrates. "Uh....right, then." A massive cloud of red smoke appears to emanate from his eyes, mouth, and torso....it covers him and Tanya up, enveloping them entirely. "If you feel the need to get reacquainted with your breakfast - don't." He says as they are suddenly...gone.

Does she have any powers or anything like that? Or what? And Phantasmo only has an Arcane Knowledge of 5...he knows a lot of history, but his main area of expertise is stage magicians. STill, he does have a BIT of mystical know-how. So here goes! 1d20+5: 21 [1d20=16] Looks like he's going Greenland way, huh?

"Welp - " He stroked his chin. "I'd have to see it myself to make any real decision, but it may just be someone playing silly buggers. Or a local psychic. I used to do that a bit 'fore I died, you know - nothing mind reading, but cold reading and stuff of that nature." He paused. "Are you one of these people, perchance?" he asked as he sipped his ginger beer. "Or...is your brother or sister? How are they, by the way? I belive one of them is...a firefighter, but I don't remember which one. I really do apologize for that - still, that's a fantastic job. My nephew does that - he's a good boy, takes after his dad. Not after his uncle, thank God." he smirks a bit self-depreciatingly.

The zombie had been enjoying a nice bottle of old whiskey when the young woman had entered his shop, so he was a bit peeved. "OI! Who - ohhhh, it's you, isn't it?" He 'ported down to the young woman in a puff of red smoke, dressed in his usual immaculate costume. He paused. "...Good god, woman - aren't you cold? It's the middle of winter! It's colder than a witch's ti...uh, teat out there. Let's get you warmed up and you can tell old Phantasmo all about Stonehenge. And yeah, i know a little bit about it - never went there for a tour, but may have gone there once with the lads when I was in college to uh..." He coughed. "Experiment with some...gardening." He went over to the little fridge by his bookshelf and retrieved two ginger beers. "Cheers, miss." He remembered that she liked Vernor's from the last time they chatted...he wasn't a fan himself - AMERICAN Ginger Beer, eeeeuuurrgh - but to each his own. For himself, he chose a bottle of very good Jamaican stuff he'd bought from a farmer's market a few days back.

"Oi! What're you doing darting around my home? " the zombie growls, a bit put out. "Stay still when someone's talking to you, my son, that's just polite!" he sips his beer. "When I was a kid, I was darting around all over the place, but I outgrew it - put my old nanny off her rocker, the way I wouldn't sit still. Oh, you would have liked her, duckie, she was a tough old bird who used to make my brother and I do lines if we misbehaved. Had this old blackboard in the living room and everything." He sighed. "Sorry, Fastie old sport - didn't mean to lose my cool there, just a bit put out. Like to have someone sit still so I can talk to them proper." He cracks open another beer. "And naaah, my family doesn't even know I'm alive. My brother's down in sunny Florida, and his family's spread out. Best that way, I feel - we didn't part on the best of terms and me just popping up looking like a rotten bag of something the cat dragged in probably won't fix that, will it? My ma and pa died long ago, and I never married...though..." he looks thoughtful. "Still doesn't mean I might not have a kid somewhere, considering the...ah...perks...of being a famous magician, specially in the Wild 70's and 80's, as it were. Good grief, that'd be a bit of a shock. Little nipper popping up one day and saying "Hullo! I'm your grandson-or-daughter!" He shudders theatrically, letting his bones rattle - they actually rattle, as in one can hear rattling noises. "Anyway, young-fella-my-lad, anything else I can do for you? More beer? Cigar? I used to love cigars, I tell you. Couldn't get enough of them. Got my first one in this show down in London from this big bloke who was setting up stage for one of my shows, right? He handed me one and said - "Smoke up, Mr. Trent, they're the Queen's Ti...uh, time." Phantasmo coughs. "Well, me being a young chap of about twenty-five at this time, I did. Hah, now the ironic thing is - now that I'm dead, I've lost a taste for them!" He laughs - it's a deep, not-quite-sinister-but-a-bit-unsettling sound.

Phantasmo shook his head. "Sorry, mate - what you see is what you get. Mr. Infamy apparently plays for keeps - Wish I'd known who he was when I struck my little deal with him. There's a bastard who deserves a swift kick in the nadgers and that's true enough." He sipped his beer. "Tell you what - info for info. For instance - how'd you get hold of this little diary, duckie? Were you the one who made off with it in '93? No skin off my face if you were - hah, talking about skin on my face, I barely have any. I'd be in a bit of a dim spot to point fingers, wouldn't I? Still, could you be a right sort and satisfy my curiosity? I promise on my grave I won't do the whole "Have at thee" nonsense and try to have a go at you. Scout's honor. And I was one...for about two years before I got kicked out for knocking Bobby Sedgewick's teeth in. The little snot had it coming by having a go at my mum, though. And I was seven....so, there was that. Seven year olds aren't known for handling anger, you know." He took another bit of beer. "Good Christ, this is good. D'you know how much you miss a good chug when you've dined on fine wine, massive steaks, and thick stogies for over 19 years? It's astounding how good a good old Bulger's can taste. It's the simple things in life you treasure, old son. That's a word of wisdom right there." He goes over to the little refrigerator and gets another beer. He tosses it to Fast Forward. "Cheers."

Phantasmo the Unliving! >Here Comes The Rain Again (4 IC)

Phantasmo nodded and hmm'd as he examined the book. "Hmmmm...." He ran his hands over it, gently flipped it open, closed his eyes (WEll. the lights behind his mask dimmed, anyway) and finally issued a proclamation. "This...is a very old book." he said finally. He laughed then. "Just pulling your leg, ducky. While I'm not what you'd call an expert in all things "Merlin" and "Woo-woo" as my brother used to call it, I can say that this person really did know her stuff. Anyway - "I, Violet Pennyworth...yadda-yadda-yadda...the magical essence of the Behenian stars...something something...using Hermetic ritual and incantation to summon the mystic energies of those fifteen stars to Earth for great power, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. Unfortunately, this book is only half-way finished - still, there are rumors among my more learned colleagues that the poor woman had a bit of a...scrape, with a bunch of stupid buggers attempting to summon someone called The Unspeakable One, which was what killed her." He scoffed. "'Unspeakable One' - Daft name if you ask me - how can anyone summon you if they can't speak of you, seems rather idiotic - but cultists are an odd bunch by any standard. Just look at that Scientology lot for proof of that." He hands the book back. "Sorry I can't be of more help, old son." He cracks open another beer. "But I'm not exactly an "expert" in occult artifacts. - if you have anything owned by Houdini I'd be happy to take a look and tell you what it's worth, though. Ooh - nearly forgot. I've got a few ciggies in the pantry if you'd like to partake."

Aweomseyay. Here ist ein knowledge roll...http://orokos.com/roll/234636 ...Not too bad, I think...

Phantasmo nodded. "Right, that's the thing, isn't it? Welp - let me take a look and I'll tell you if it's just a harmless bauble or if you're going to explode or get Demonic Dysentary or what not." He cracked open his beer and took a deep pull. "Ooh, a shoot? You on the telly, then? I used to be on that - 'course, that was back in the 80's before all this "Internet" nonsense." He glanced at the coin and nodded. "Fancy trick, lad. Very fancy. I wish you'd been with me during this one show in Vegas, right - and this was when I was Mystico, The MAGNIFICENT - my assistant, a bloke named Sam, had forgotten to bring the prop coins - and we had to delay for fifteen minutes asking the audience for change! Hah! Still, it was a fun little show." The zombie indicated a table near the door. "Have a squat, man, and old Phantasmo will take a gander at it." He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for his super-speedy guest.

He gave a flourish and a bow, rolling his top hat to the end of his gloved hand before putting it on his head again. He was dressed immaculately, in a well-cut suit and cape with a domino mask that really didn't seem necessary, as he was already dead...but it did somehow WORK with the appearance. "Yes indeedy - I am indeed Phantasmo, the UNLIVING!" he added a bit of emphasis to that last part. "And magical consultation? What, you mean like how to do this?" He snapped his fingers and a bouquet of flowers appeared in his hand. "Or this?" He reached behind his own ear and removed a half-dollar coin. "Or this?" He vanished in a puff of red smoke and appeared next to Fast-Forward. "That bit's still cool, if I do say so myself. Kills at the old charity shows I sometimes do. The kiddies love it." He 'ported over to an old, leather easy chair by a book case that seems to have been made from stacking several trash cans on top of one another. "Sorry, duckie - it's genuine magic. Have to get it the old fashioned way - well. I had to die for it, so that's not old-fashioned. Quite new age, actually - sorry, getting distracted. Now - a deal or a lesson can't be made on an empty stomach or a dry throat, as my dad used to say. He was a barber, you know - ran a little shop and used to charge fifteen pence for a shave, seventeen for a good cut." He got up from his chair and walked over to a mini-fridge plugged into a wall socket in the corner. "D'you know I still get power here? Damnedest thing, I know - but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth." He opened it and removed two cold ones. "Here we are! Bulgers okay, mate? Don't have anything fancier, sorry." It was astounding, really, how energetic he was. And how he was able to talk so much.

Now - normally, when Phantasmo has company, he's happy to entertain. More than happy to entertain, even. He's an entertaining guy. NOT when said company busts in going ludicrous speed into his home uninvited. He scuttled down from the upper story like an over-sized, theatrically dressed crab, discarding his empty beer can as he did so and surveying the intruder. Oh, bollocks - it was one of those "Superhero" types. He didn't REALLY have anything against them - to the contrary, he likes them a lot, but they also make headaches because they usually bring...evil buggers with great fiery fingers and shooting lightning out of their ears or some such nonsense. Still, no need to be un-neighborly. He hops down from his precarious perch on the upper floor and taps the new arrival on the shoulder as politely as he possibly can - hoping to CHRIST his moustache was still groomed. "Bee in your bonnet, speedy? Some reason why you thought - "Ooh, Ta, Think I'll pop in for a kip and wake him at the god-forsaken hours of the morning? D'you have any idea what time it is? Just 'cause I don't need to sleep anymore doesn't mean it's not bloody rude to knock on the door first! Manners, lad - look into them!" He gave the new arrival the once over. "...Ye gods, man, is that what you young people are dressing like today?! I thought the Beatle Generation was bad - and we dressed like idiots! Wore our hair like...muskrats."

I took advice with what you said and powered him up a bit. I removed the "Bblock Senses" effect from the Snare power because, as far as I know, it doesn't work with the Entanglement flaw. I also gave both Snare AND Blast accurate +2 to make them +8 respectively...but I'm wondering if the Snare attack should count in there because it's not a damaging attack. I added a bit to the "perform" task using the points I got from removing the Sneak Attack and Improved Sunder skills. Protection 3 was a mistake on my part - I had intended to add an "Impervious bonus" there but I forgot to mention it when I was adding the power. He's immune to bullets, blades, and crowbars...but as I said, fire bad. Same with a good exorcism spell - one good one an that's all she wrote. I'm debating on adding a "Demonic Awareness" or something skill to his abilities. Since he's from hell (or rather, A Hell) I think it'd make sense that he could sense demonic folks who may do very bad things. But now I'm concerned that that may overcost him. Adding up the new stats (and math isn't my strong suit, I must admit) I now have 147/150 points. If I added up right. Do you advise leaving them, or adding them to my attack or defense stat? Or what?

Done and done. Hopefully. I made the Snare 6 so he can snag opponents and bring them to him if need be, and teleport...weeeelll...I figure if he falls, and no one is around to catch him, it may be helpful if he can 'port to a nearby ledge without going 'Splat'. Hopefully this is a better build.

Righty-o. Hmmm...'k, so the main problem is that he's underpowered. I keep worrying about OPing him - it seems that is not the issue. So I'll get to work restating him right now.

Phantasmo the Unliving "No performer should attempt to bite off a red-hot iron unless he has a good set of teeth." - Harry Houdini Power Level: 8 (150/161pp) Trade-Offs: -2 damage/+2 attack (Blast, Snare) Unspent Power Points: 11 In Brief: Chatty, friendly, and well-dressed revenant who uses his mystical and undead abilities to oppose those who would prey upon the unfortunate and destitute. Residence: “Lives†in an old abandoned clothing store in a bad part of Southside Base of Operations: the aforementioned clothing store. Catchphrase: “It’s magic!†Theme: “Venus of the Hard Sell†Alternate Identity: Henry Gibson Trent. Identity: Public, but is listed as “deceased.†Birthplace: London, England Occupation: Former stage magician, now drifter. Affiliations: the homeless population of Freedom City Family: Mother (Deceased) Brother (Alfred, 67) - Nephew (John, 30) - grand nephew and neice (Greg, 6, and Samantha, 4) Description: Age: 65 (DoB:6/12/1949) Apparent Age: Hard to tell due to decomposed state Gender: Male Ethnicity: Undead Height: 5’10 Weight: 180 Eyes: yellow (Glowing sockets) - formerly green Hair: None (formerly brown) Beard: Grey (formerly brown) Power Descriptions: He’s not your typical zombie. A good way to think of it is that he’s a ghost who’s possessing his own corpse - so long as his body is in good enough shape for him to inhabit, he can keep on ticking. He has superhuman-strength, unlimited stamina, and can survive without food, water, oxygen, or sleep...and as a bonus, so long as his spirit is in his corpse he doesn’t rot!...Any more than he already has. Plus - and this is cool - as long as his ghost is in his meat suit, any minor wounds are healed! It's like he's not even dead!...aside from the rot, the missing eyes, ears, nose, the missing lips, and whatnot. Aside from his standard zombie powers, he has minor mystical abilities - he can conjure doves, rabbits, scarves, coins, playing cards - you know, basic magic props - can also teleport (very short distances, mind you) via puffs of smoke. Now you see me, now you don't. History: Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: A little tyke sees a magic act when he’s five years old and is wowed - decides then and there he wants to be a magician. He wants to be up there with Houdini and all the greats, bless his little soul. He studies everything he can about magic. He pesters his mum and his dad every cChristmasfor magic stuff - kits, books, whatever. Learns, and practices, and learns, and books his first gig at the age of 24 to a small pub in Surrey. Poor sod does his best - pulls out everything he’s learned...only for every trick to go wrong. The milk in newspaper trick only gives soggy funnies. The damned rabbit escapes from the hat. The birds mess in his shirt and escape. Aforementioned bugger realizes something as he leaves the pub to the howls of laughter and boos from the inebriated crowd: He’s really, really bad at this. But what else can he do? It’s all he ever wanted. Enter mysterious old codger with massive smile and promises of dreams come true. The old codger sits on a park bench next to our hero who may or may not be bawling his eyes out. Our hero - daft bugger that he is - is taken in by this man when he says he can make him one of the greatest magicians in the world. Says he can give him genuine magic powers, and the knowledge to use them - only thing that he wants in return is our hero’s soul. He even admits he may just be pulling the boy’s leg and being nice - but what could it hurt just to humor him: Our boy decides to humor the man and says “Yes.†With one handshake, he finds he suddenly knows tricks that Houdini couldn’t dream of his lifetime. He goes back to the pub and begs for another chance - and this time everything goes great. He meets his agent and within six months, he’s one of the greats, and for the next 19 years, things go swimmingly. He plays Vegas. He plays Rome. He plays Paris - He’s made it. The Big time. He’s Copperfield. He’s Siegfried AND Roy. Dreams do come true - happy endings all around. Except...he’s so caught up in his success he completely forgets the old man’s price. On his 44th birthday, he drops down dead of a heart attack in the middle of a performance. Everyone’s shattered - he’s autopsied, buried, and gradually forgotten about...then six weeks later he wakes up his grave. Now, normally this would make anyone quite upset...but for some reason, he’s calm. Coherent. He’s able to dig his way out of his grave and finds he has enhance strength and doesn’t need to eat or drink! Huzzah! And bonus - he has genuine magical powers now. He’s not quite sure what the hell happened...did he escape, was he released?... But he’ll roll with it. ‘course, he realizes he can’t go back to his old life. He’s been dead - life’s over for him. His mum is dead, his brother’s in Florida, and he can’t really well book any more deals as a living chunk of corpse meat. Time to make a fresh start. So, he hops a boat to Freedom City - reasoning that they’ve probably seen weirder than him - and joins the local homeless population, who welcome him with open arms. He’s touched - so touched, that when a local small-time thug by the name of Billy the Bat decides to shake them down, he uses his powers - zombie, and magician - to literally scare him off. And...something odd happens. He realizes he LIKES doing good for others using his powers. Realizing that he should probably go with the crowd and be as theatrical and colorful as possible, he dons a magician costume a friend of his purchases from a thrift shop. Mystico the Magnificent may be dead and gone, but where he was...arises Phantasmo, the Unliving! Personality & Motivation: He’s very friendly and chatty in a somewhat sarcastic sort of way. He’s Very fond of joking around with people and is a bit of a troll with his undead nature. Generally tries to see the good in everyone...but if he thinks you are a jerk, he’ll point it out. Snarkily. The reason he likes to fight crime is quite simple - he hates those who would prey on the weak, would cause undue suffering, and - above all - would look down on someone just because they’re worse off in life. He literally got to escape what he suspects was Hell - he’s not gonna squander this second chance by being a jerk. Plus, you know - being a garishly dressed zombie, you have to do SOMETHING to let the more trigger-happy lads in tights know you’re on the up-and-up. Protecting a bunch of homeless chaps from vicious sods who’d hit them up for money seems a good way to do it. Powers & Tactics: He’s not a straight-up brawler, but you don’t grow up in London without learning some survival skills. He mainly uses his powers to disorient and confuse his opponents before going for the nadgers or pulling whatever other dirty trick he can think of - and he knows quite a few of them. His chatty nature and friendly disposition are also pretty good at catching opponents off-guard. Complications: One Ugly Bugger: Being of the undead persuasion makes it very difficult for others to really warm up to him at first...he’s been shot at, stabbed, and even mopped by an overzealous young man who’d seen too many movies and assumed the zombie apocalypse was coming. Exorcisms are no-one’s friend!: The right exorcism spell can send his soul out of his body and back to wherever it was before he came back...heaven, hell, whatever. Quit being a ham!: Though he is very friendly, he's also very fond of the spotlight...a bit of trouble when stealth and guile are required. It's got a mind of it's own, I swear!: Due to the unique nature of his resurrection, his soul is spread throughout his entire body... but not his mind. As such, while he is able to manipulate his limbs when they are removed (or fall off), if his head isn't attached to his body...it's like a car without a driver. Out of control. Abilities: 10 + 6 -10 + 8 + 10 + 4 = 28PP Strength: 20 (+5) Dexterity: 16 (+3) Constitution: -- Intelligence: 18 (+4) Wisdom: 20 (+5) Charisma: 14 (+2) Combat: 16 + 14 = 30PP Initiative: +3 (+3 Dex) Attack: +8 (Unarmed) +10 (Pick a Card, Scarves, Flock of Doves) Grapple: +16 Defense: +8 (+7 BDB +1 Dodge Focus) +4 Flat-footed Knockback: -4 Saving Throws: 0 + 4 + 3 = 7PP Toughness: +8 (+4 [Protection] [Defensive Roll 2](+2 impervious) Fortitude:-- Reflex: +7 (+3 Dex, +4) Will: +8 (+5 Wis, +3) Skills: 56R = 14PP Bluff 8 (+10), Concentration 5 (+10), Escape Artist 8 (+11), Knowledge (Arcane Lore) 5 (+9), Knowledge (Streetwise) 1 (+5), Notice 4 (+9), Perform (Oratory) 6(+8) Perform (Acting) 6 (+8) Sense Motive 5 (+10), Sleight of Hand 8 (+11) Feats: 17PP Accurate Attack, Ambidexterity, Defensive Roll 2, Distract (Bluff), Dodge Focus 1 Evasion 2, Fascinate (Perform Acting), Fearless, Improved Aim, Instant Up, Ranged Pin, Redirect, Skill Mastery (Bluff,Sleight of Hand,Escape Artist,Perform), Taunt, Uncanny Dodge Powers: 19 + 30 + 6+2+4+1= 62PP Alakazam! (Magic 7 - 14pp array) Feat: 5 extra powers [19pp] Base Power: Pick a card! (Blast 6, Razor sharp, abnormally large playing card is thrown at opponent; Feats: Accurate 1 (+2), Ricochet 1;) {14/14pp} Alternate Power: Flock of Doves...from my sleeves! (Stun 7, Descriptors; A flock of pecking, disorienting doves emerges from the sleeves Extras: Area: Cone (30 ft) Flaws: Dazed,) {14/14pp} Alternate Power: Levitation! (Flight 4, - He levitates himself and objects with the SHEER FORCE OF HIS MIND! 100mph Flaws: Levitation;) And (Move Object 4, Flaws: Direction - Up and Down,) {10/14pp} Alternate Power: Puff of Smoke! (Teleport 6, Vanishes in a puff of smoke to re-appear a few feet away; ; Flaws: Short Range (600ft) Feats: Change Direction, Change Velocity, Extra: Accurate ;) {14/14pp} Alternate Power: Hypnosis (Mind Control 7, mesmerizes opponents with a small, conjured pocket watch; Extras: conscious; Flaws: Sense-dependent - visual) {14/14pp} Alternate Power: Scarves Galore! (Snare 6, A length of scarves flies from his hands to entrap and ensnare baddies ;Flaws: Entangle; Feats: Tether (600ft), Accurate 1(+2)) {8/14pp} Immunity 30 (Save Effect (Fortitude) (30pp) Super Strength 3 (+15 Str Carrying Capacity, Heavy Load: 1.7 tons (6pp) Regeneration 2 (Recovery Bonus (+2); Flaw:Limited (Can't regrow limbs); ;Power Feature:Persistent) (2pp) Protection 4 (4pp) Impervious Toughness 2 (Flaw: Limited (Physical damage only) (1pp) Drawbacks: (-4) + (-4) = -8PP Noticeable (Zombie; Common, Major.) Vulnerable (Fire;Common,Major) DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC15 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Pick a Card Ranged DC 21 Toughness (Staged) Damaged (Physical) Scarves Ranged DC 16 Reflex (Staged) Bound/Entangled Flock of Doves Area (Cone) DC 17 Reflex (Staged) Stunned/Dazed Totals: Abilities (28) + Combat (30) + Saving Throws (7) + Skills (14) + Feats (17) + Powers (62) - Drawbacks (-8) = 150/161) Power Points

Right-o. Thanks for the advice and aid, man. I'll get to work right away.

Thank you, that was very helpful. However, that wasn't exactly my problem - my problem is that I am unable to access the media section of the forum at all. I am unable to make an album or gallery on this site, or access the other public albums in general as it states I do not have the permission to do so...I should have specified more, I apologize. But thank you again for your advice, it was helpful and now his handsome undead face can be seen.

First attempt at character - redone, reworked, working on, and am stuck...Will I grit my teeth and try to bear it? Yes. Would I like advice on some stuff? Yes. Gimme yo' thoughts. They'd be greatly appreciated. Quote "No performer should attempt to bite off a red-hot iron unless he has a good set of teeth." - Harry Houdini Player Name: MisterShoebox Character Name: Phantasmo the Unliving Power Level: 10 (150PP) Trade-Offs: None Unspent Power Points: 0 Progress To Bronze Status: 0/30 In Brief: Chatty, friendly, and well-dressed revenant who uses his mystical and undead abilities to oppose those who would prey upon the unfortunate and destitute. Residence: “Lives†in an old abandoned clothing store in a bad part of Southside Base of Operations: the aforementioned clothing store. Catchphrase: “It’s magic!†Theme: “Venus of the hard sell†Alternate Identity:Henry Gibson Trent. Identity: Public, but is listed as “deceased.†Birthplace: London, England Occupation: Former stage magician, now drifter. Affiliations: the homeless population of Freedom City Family: Mother (Deceased) Brother (Alfred, 67) - Grandnephew (John, 30) - Great-grand nephew and neice (Greg, 6, and Samantha, 4) Description: Age: 65 (DoB:6/12/1949) Apparent Age: Hard to tell due to decomposed state Gender:Male Ethnicity: Undead Height: 5’10 Weight: 180 Eyes: yellow (Glowing sockets) - formerly green Hair: None (formerly brown) Beard: Grey (formerly brown) Power Descriptions: He’s not your typical zombie. A good way to think of it is that he’s a ghost who’s possessing his own corpse - so long as his body is in good enough shape for him to inhabit, he can keep on ticking. He has superhuman-strength, unlimited stamina, and can survive without food, water, oxygen, or sleep...and as a bonus, so long as his spirit is in his corpse he doesn’t rot!...Any more than he already has. Plus - and this is cool - as long as his ghost is in his meat suit, any minor wounds are healed! It's like he's not even dead!...aside from the rot, the missing eyes, ears, nose, the missing lips, and whatnot. Aside from his standard zombie powers, he has minor mystical abilities - he can conjure doves, rabbits, scarves, coins, playing cards - you know, basic magic props - can also teleport (very short distances, mind you) via puffs of smoke. Now you see me, now you don't. History: Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: A little tyke sees a magic act when he’s five years old and is wowed - decides then and there he wants to be a magician. He wants to be up there with Houdini and all the greats, bless his little soul. He studies everything he can about magic. He pesters his mum and his dad every cChristmasfor magic stuff - kits, books, whatever. Learns, and practices, and learns, and books his first gig at the age of 24 to a small pub in Surrey. Poor sod does his best - pulls out everything he’s learned...only for every trick to go wrong. The milk in newspaper trick only gives soggy funnies. The damned rabbit escapes from the hat. The birds mess in his shirt and escape. Aforementioned bugger realizes something as he leaves the pub to the howls of laughter and boos from the inebriated crowd: He’s really, really bad at this. But what else can he do? It’s all he ever wanted. Enter mysterious old codger with massive smile and promises of dreams come true. The old codger sits on a park bench next to our hero who may or may not be bawling his eyes out. Our hero - daft bugger that he is - is taken in by this man when he says he can make him one of the greatest magicians in the world. Says he can give him genuine magic powers, and the knowledge to use them - only thing that he wants in return is our hero’s soul. He even admits he may just be pulling the boy’s leg and being nice - but what could it hurt just to humor him: Our boy decides to humor the man and says “Yes.†With one handshake, he finds he suddenly knows tricks that Houdini couldn’t dream of his lifetime. He goes back to the pub and begs for another chance - and this time everything goes great. He meets his agent and within six months, he’s one of the greats, and for the next 19 years, things go swimmingly. He plays Vegas. He plays Rome. He plays Paris - He’s made it. The Big time. He’s Copperfield. He’s Siegfried AND Roy. Dreams do come true - happy endings all around. Except...he’s so caught up in his success he completely forgets the old man’s price. On his 44th birthday, he drops down dead of a heart attack in the middle of a performance. Everyone’s shattered - he’s autopsied, buried, and gradually forgotten about...then six weeks later he wakes up his grave. Now, normally this would make anyone quite upset...but for some reason, he’s calm. Coherent. He’s able to dig his way out of his grave and finds he has enhance strength and doesn’t need to eat or drink! Huzzah! And bonus - he has genuine magical powers now. He’s not quite sure what the hell happened...did he escape, was he released?... But he’ll roll with it. ‘course, he realizes he can’t go back to his old life. He’s been dead - life’s over for him. His mum is dead, his brother’s in Florida, and he can’t really well book any more deals as a living chunk of corpse meat. Time to make a fresh start. So, he hops a boat to Freedom City - reasoning that they’ve probably seen weirder than him - and joins the local homeless population, who welcome him with open arms. He’s touched - so touched, that when a local small-time thug by the name of Billy the Bat decides to shake them down, he uses his powers - zombie, and magician - to literally scare him off. And...something odd happens. He realizes he LIKES doing good for others using his powers. Realizing that he should probably go with the crowd and be as theatrical and colorful as possible, he dons a magician costume a friend of his purchases from a thrift shop. Mystico the Magnificent may be dead and gone, but where he was...arises Phantasmo, the Unliving! Personality & Motivation: He’s very friendly and chatty in a somewhat sarcastic sort of way. He’s Very fond of joking around with people and is a bit of a troll with his undead nature. Generally tries to see the good in everyone...but if he thinks you are a jerk, he’ll point it out. Snarkily. The reason he likes to fight crime is quite simple - he hates those who would prey on the weak, would cause undue suffering, and - above all - would look down on someone just because they’re worse off in life. He literally got to escape what he suspects was Hell - he’s not gonna squander this second chance by being a jerk. Plus, you know - being a garishly dressed zombie, you have to do SOMETHING to let the more trigger-happy lads in tights know you’re on the up-and-up. Protecting a bunch of homeless chaps from vicious sods who’d hit them up for money seems a good way to do it. Powers & Tactics: He’s not a straight-up brawler, but you don’t grow up in London without learning some survival skills. He mainly uses his powers to disorient and confuse his opponents before going for the nadgers or pulling whatever other dirty trick he can think of - and he knows quite a few of them. His chatty nature and friendly disposition are also pretty good at catching opponents off-guard. Complications: One Ugly Bugger: Being of the undead persuasion makes it very difficult for others to really warm up to him at first...he’s been shot at, stabbed, and even mopped by an overzealous young man who’d seen too many movies and assumed the zombie apocalypse was coming. Exorcisms are no-one’s friend!: The right exorcism spell can send his soul out of his body and back to wherever it was before he came back...heaven, hell, whatever. Quit being a ham!: Though he is very friendly, he's also very fond of the spotlight...a bit of trouble when stealth and guile are required. Abilities: 11 + 6 -10 + 8 + 10 + 5 = 30PP Strength: 20 (+5) Dexterity: 16 (+3) Constitution: -- Intelligence: 18 (+4) Wisdom: 20 (+5) Charisma: 15 (+2) Combat: 8 + 8 = 16PP Initiative: +3 (+3 Dex) Attack: +8 Melee, (+6 Ranged) Grapple: +13 Defense: +8 (+4 Base), + Flat-Footed Knockback: -4 Saving Throws: 0 + 2 + 2 = 4PP Toughness: +7 (+3 [Protection] [Defensive Roll]) Fortitude:-- Reflex: +8 (+4 Dex, +4) Will: +8 (+4 Wis, +4) Skills: 45R = 12PP Bluff 8 (+10), Concentration 5 (+10), Escape Artist 8 (+11), Intimidate 2 (+4), Knowledge (Arcane Lore) 2 (+6), Knowledge (Streetwise) 1 (+5), Notice 4 (+9), Perform (Comedy) 3 (+5), Perform (Oratory) 3 (+5), Sense Motive 1 (+6), Sleight of Hand 8 (+11) Feats: 20PP Accurate Attack, Defensive Roll 2, Evasion 2, Fascinate (Bluff), Fascinate (Perform), Fearless, Improved Aim, Improved Disarm 2, Instant Up, Ranged Pin, Skill Mastery (Bluff,Escape Artist,Sleight of Hand,Knowledge), Sneak Attack, Taunt, Throwing Mastery 3 Powers: 19 + 30 + 3+2+6 = 60PP Alakazam! (14pp Array: Feats; 5 alternate powers) [19pp] Alternate Power: Blast 5 (Extra:Attack; Power Features:Accurate,Ricochet cost: 11/14pp 'Razor sharp playing card or ultra-hard coin') Alternate Power: Flight 1 (Flaw:Levitation, cost: 1/14pp) Alternate Power: Mind Control 7 (Extra:Conscious; Flaw:Sense-Dependent; cost: 14/14pp hypnosis with a mystical, conjured pocket watch that vanishes when used.) Alternate Power: Snare 5 (Extra:Blocks Visual Senses; Power Feat:Accurate: cost: 12/14pp 'Scarves, scarves everywhere!') Alternate Power: Stun 3 (Extra:Area - Cone (30' Long and Wide); Flaw:Fades; Power Feat:Split Attack; cost: 7/14pp. 'Conjuring a flock of doves from my sleeves! It's MAGIC!' Alternate Power: Teleport 1 (Extra :Accurate; Flaw:20ft; cost: 2/14pp. 'Disappears then reappears in a puff of smoke.' Immunity 30 (Save Effect (Fortitude) Super Strength 3 (+15 Str Carrying Capacity, Heavy Load: 1 ton) Regeneration 2 (Recovery Bonus (+2); Flaw:Limited (Can't regrow limbs); ;Power Feature:Persistent) Protection 3 Drawbacks: (-4) + (-4) = -8PP Noticeable (Zombie; Common, Major.) Vulnerable (Fire;Common,Major) DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC15 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) (NOTE: The easiest way to get your DC Block to line up is to write it out in a word processor in a Courier font, then just copy/paste it into your post.) Totals: Abilities (30) + Combat (16) + Saving Throws (4) + Skills (12) + Feats (20) + Powers (60) - Drawbacks (-8) = 150/150) Power Points

Right, well, what to say 'cept How-do? I'm 24, a comics nut, Cartoon Nut, amateur Voice Actor, and am a shy little newbie ready to learn ropes. This is my first time really doing anything with DICE RP - I've done some freeform in IRC rooms, but that's about it. Decided - "Shoe, you needs to explore deeper waters." So here I am. To quote Stan Lee - "Excelsior!"