Sophistemon

Sam snuggled further into the seat, his eyes growing heavy. He raised leaden lids just long enough to glance at agent Warne. "I was joking, for God's sake. I'm not going to kill anyone -- even if I'd be justified Besides, I want answers to my questions, and it's harder to talk to the dead than the living. Not impossible, but harder." There was a moment of silence before Adept spoke again, and then Presto twitched in his seat and began fumbling around. "That's brilliant," he said. "That's brilliant, Warne!" He popped the glove compartment and dug through it for something to write on, eventually settling for two old and crumpled napkins from a Beefy Burger restaurant. He took a pen from its hiding place in his mystic pocket and began to scribble matching arcane symbols on both napkins. Said symbols looped and curved, shot through here and there with sudden, violent strokes of the pen. "Give me your lighter," he said at last, and held out his hand.

Okay, it's been a wait! I'm sorry for the delay, but I can't think of a more elegant solution than the one that we've discussed, so we're going with that. Presto is going to jury-rig a Ritual. Said Ritual will take the form of two ranks of Immunity: Sleep to be split between Adept and himself. Knowldege: Arcane Lore: 1d20+15 18. And we just barely made it!

Every comedy needs a straight-man, Blarghy!

That is important, pertinent information that should have been in the first post, which has been edited to include it.

Good afternoon, everyone. I'm currently hoping to begin a plot sometime soon. I've already collected a few victims volunteers, but I still need one more -- two at the absolute most. I'm a novice GM and I am increasingly nervous about overextending myself. Some people, I know, can be counted upon to wrangle a really impressive number of players, but I'm definitely not one of them. Maybe I will be, but right now I'm definitely not. So far, the folks who've agreed to be my test subjects are: Avengers_Assembled, as Sea Devil. Blarghy, as Adept. Is it you? Or you? The story that I have in mind is a bit of a romp; mostly it's an excuse to take my players to few wacky locations and have them interact with a bunch of kooky NPCs. There will be battles (aren't there always?) and a major dust-up at the end, but I anticipate this one being primarily driven by roleplaying and not roll-playing. I am, myself, a bit of a seat-of-the-pants GM with a preference for organic storytelling -- this means that I prefer that my dice rolls be made behind the scenes both to preserve an air of mystery and so that I can fudge the numbers this way and that to produce mutually-favorable outcomes. If this is an issue I will of course abstain, but that's where I'm coming from. I'm aiming for an average PL of 10 to 11. Characters who aren't terribly serious will be better served by this plot than those that are, and heroes with ranks in Knowledge: Pop-Culture and/or Knowledge: Technology will find themselves with plenty to do. Beyond that, you'll be investigating a series of unusual kidnappings and attempting to bring a dangerous new villain to justice. If that sounds like fun, please apply below. I would feel really, terribly guilty about turning people down so I ask that you please only express your interest if you're really serious about joining. I should also note that this plot will introduce my new character, Punchline, but he's not the starring attraction -- that'd be you guys. Just, you know. Fair warning.

Sam paused, then looked back at the trunk. "I... yeah, of course. I saw it glowing a moment ago, but I don't..." He took a step towards the softly-glowing vessel and peered inside, one hand at the ready to conjure his wand and defend himself. If this thing, whatever it was, had hurt Gretchen... he would need to be prepared to fight it off however he could. Why, he thought, would Al-Kazar keep something dangerous unguarded among his things?

Sam's heart fell as he listened to Lynn's story. He was about to speak up, to say that he didn't mind her interruption, when Gretchen started to snap at her. Caught in the middle of what looked to be the beginning of a lover's spat, Sam remained silent. He averted his eyes from it, to give them a bit of privacy, and his attention was gripped by the soft glow emerging from the trunk. He turned towards it, to get a better look, and so he didn't see it when Gretchen collapsed. Only the blur of movement, of Lynn rushing forward to catch the other woman before she struck her head, was enough to draw his eyes away from the glow. "Whoa!" he gasped. "What happened? Gretchen? Are you all right?" He stood, and stepped towards them. "Lynn? What's wrong?"

Samuel stared at Gretchen for a moment before realization -- and embarrassment -- dawned on his face. "Oh," he said, trying to play it off. "Oh, that Samantha. Of course!" He looked to the woman. "I work in the back room, cataloguing old books and papers. I don't get much of a chance to socialize with the front end. I do recognize you, but..." he raised a finger to the side of his head and circled his ear. "It slipped my mind." He smiled, bashfully. "I'm so sorry; I'm not trying to be rude, I've just got a terrible memory for faces."

Samuel shrugged. "I'm not sure," he responded. "Aside from our hosts, I don't think that I'm going to know anyone else that shows up to this party." He took a drink of water and smiled. "Not that it's a problem. If I leave today having made some new friends, I leave today happy." He relaxed into his seat. "So, Samantha... what do you do for a living?" He smiled ruefully. "I don't suppose that being a super-hero pays the bills?" He then paused, considering. I guess that there's always AEGIS, or joining one of the countless corporate leagues...

Ethan shot Warne a glance. It was all but imperceptible, but there was real gratitude in it. He steepled his fingers and looked at Bonfire. "Well," he said. "I think that we're all aware of just how much secrecy being a super-hero entails, and I suppose that we can't hold the fact that you've got to keep certain things close to your chest against you -- in an official capacity, anyway." The fingers spread wide. "In any case, I think that we're closing in on a plan of action, so I'd like to ask a question for my sake. This Gas Man, when you fought him: how good is he in a scrap? What's he capable of, and how on guard should we be? Did he seem like the kind of guy that'd fight it out, or rabbit at the first sign of a losing battle?" One might get the distinct impression that Agent Stone was looking forward to dueling with the Gas Man.

Sam watched the young woman conjure light and smiled at the display. It was, in its own way, a sort of magic. "Oh, I'm... self-taught. I took it up quite a few years ago as a sort of hobby and it just spiraled upwards. Learning it didn't come easy, but it was so, so worth it in the long run, even with the drawbacks." He smiled. "As for being a hero, well. I don't know if that's the right term yet. I'm just trying to do some good for my adoptive city, you know? Lynn's helping me out in that regard. Gretchen too. I'm very lucky to have gotten to know them both; they're great people." He grinned at his hostess and took a sip of water. "Along with my consulting position with A.E.G.I.S. and a few personal projects, I feel like I've made a positive change."

The magician nodded. "No, I... I don't feel like I'm going crazy. Maybe a little fuzzy... muddled, you know? Thought, that might just be the excitement. I haven't done anything like this in a long time." He leaned back in the seat and rested his head against the cushion. "Of course, back then... well, at the end, I wasn't in the front seat of a car, you understand." He smiled, and closed his eyes. "Hmm. Whoever this person is, Warne... the man behind Bailey... I don't know." He shook his head. "I still don't understand the end-game. Why make the drug so cheap? Just to spread the dreams, good or bad? Does taking the drug make it easier for him to get into your head? I've got so many questions. Remind me of that, in case I look ready to tear his head off."

"Well," said Sam, taking a seat inside. "He had scales when he attacked me, and he still had scales when I sent a lightning bolt into his chest. If he's changed since, that's just Bailey being Bailey." Once they were both in the car, Presto began to fill Warne in on everything that he needed to know, starting with their destination's address. He told him about the dream invasion, and how he thought that it was related to the effects of the Starlight drug. He told him about what the thug had said about the bug-spray and how that might relate to Knickknack's own nightmares. And he told him about how he felt that something was missing. "I just can't quite piece it all together, Warne," he mused. "I don't know if there's something wrong with me, but I feel like the puzzle's incomplete." His eyes widened. "My God, they were in my head, Warne! What if they did something to me? Maybe that's why I can't figure it out!"

Sam returned the gesture and then cracked his neck. "Agent Warne," he said. "You wouldn't believe the night that I've had. I know where we're going, and I have some things to tell you on the way. Do you have a car we can take?" He took a step towards the door, and then stopped. "Where we're going, there's magic. Alton Bailey, too, is a gigantic lizard-man. If you're going to go in, maybe you should stay behind me."

"No," he said, and lowered his hands. "No, officer, we're all fine. No injuries at all, so far as I'm aware." He looked towards the other officer and inclined his head. "I have them ensnared with mystic bonds. If you're prepared to take them into custody, I can release the spell and set them free. None of them have their weapons, so just give the word." Then he looked at the complaining thug. "Stop being so dramatic; you burst in here guns-blazing. I'd have been within my rights to do much, much worse. You should thank whatever god you worship that I'm so forgiving." He winked at the detective. "It really hasn't been that bad. A little magic and a lot of talking, nothing more."

Presto closed his eyes and took a breath, a deep one. He made a gesture with his right hand, stowing the wand in its hiding place, and then stood with both hands raised above his head, palms out and fingers spread wide. He looked once more at the interlopers and gave them a wink. "Showtime," he told them, and then called out to the police. "Come in," he shouted. "But don't shoot! We're all unarmed in here."

A cloud passed over Presto's face when the captive thug started talking about bug-spray. By the time the man had gotten to the point about there being no traps -- at least, none that he knew of -- the magician was a million miles away. Somewhere, deep in his head, things were beginning to click together. Knicknack had taken Starlight and dreamed of insects, among other nasty things, which went counter to everything else that he'd heard about it. Terry Boyd, the owner of Fortunes Favors, had mentioned that Starlight induced positive dreams -- a factoid repeated by Presto's current visitors. They'd also seemed to think that he'd taken the stuff himself, and had been confused when he'd brought up his own (decidedly negative) nocturnal adventures. Whoever stood behind Alton Bailey, the man behind the man, had the power to influence dreams; that much was certain. And it seemed to be that he was also capable of recreating that power in Starlight. Why most people were granted good dreams and only some, like Knicknack, suffered nightmares he didn't know. Regardless, he felt as though he was on the precipice of something important, if only he could force his brain that extra mile to piece it all together. Insects and dreams: how did they fit together? He blinked himself back to the here and now before nodding to the thug and committing the address to memory. "Thank you," he said, and took a seat. He lowered the wand and stared down, between his feet. It had been a very tiring evening and it wasn't going to be over anytime soon. At just about the point where his guests might feel like getting fidgety, he looked back up. "You know," he mused. "This whole thing could have gone very badly for any one of us. Someone could have been killed, or permanently injured -- and let's be honest, you three were the only ones in this apartment tonight that don't have any special abilities." He licked his bottom lip. "What I'm trying to say is, there's more to life than this, boys. Make some better choices."

The magician nodded, knowingly, and raised a finger. "Lynn," he began. "Is the rare kind of person that actually, legitimately cares about other people. When I first met her, she had no small reason to throw me out of her store and back onto the street -- but she didn't. Instead, I left the building that day with a job and that was the beginning of my recent upward spiral. Things are getting better and I have Lynn to thank for that." He lowered his hand, took up a spear of ham, and ate it. "So, then. You have powers? What kind?"

Samuel smiled. "Ah, well, I can't really go into it, you see. I served as a... I guess that you could say that I worked as a 'consultant' on a case that, left unsolved, would have had far-reaching consequences for the city, if not the world." He cast his eyes around and then leaned in a little closer. "I worked for AEGIS," he whispered, grinning. He was obviously proud of himself. "As for the cause of the disturbance, it was magic. That's kind of my expertise, and why I was brought in to consult on the case in the first place." He leaned back, snagged another toothpick, and continued. "It's very nice to meet you, Samantha. Do you live in the city? How long have you known Lynn?"

Ethan blinked. "Oh, whoa, me?" He smiled, a little nervously, and chuckled. "Don't you think that you'd be more qualified to plead the case, Clarkson?" He glanced to Warne and winced. "I'm just... I don't know if I'm qualified to pitch something like this to the brass. Don't get me wrong, I think that it's a great idea, but let's be honest here: I've got a reputation with these people. I'm not exactly the little tin soldier that they were hoping for when I signed on, you know?" He paused, breathed, and continued. "You know what, forget all that. I'll think of this as a good way of showing them that I'm not just some goofball flyboy."

There was a long pause as Sam thought things over. When he spoke, it was sort of slowly, and distant. "I don't... really even like thinking about it," he said. "But you're right; I offered and you deserve to know." He inhaled, licked his upper lip, and continued. "So, after I was... defeated, I guess, I was sentenced to twenty years in Blackstone." He cleared his throat. "The thing about Blackstone is that it's made for people like us. You know, super-people. They have ways of taking your gifts away, of making you normal. Some people, you know, they're born with their powers and going to Blackstone is like losing an arm to them; it's like being crippled. Others, like me, we fought for our powers. I traveled the world, dug through old books until my hands bleed, read dusty scrolls until my eyes burned, even broke my way through the veil of reality and looted another dimension all so that I could fan the little spark of magic in me to a fire. Going to Blackstone, losing my magic... it was worse than losing an arm. It was like my life fell apart a second time, like all that work had been for nothing. I'd gone from being 'Presto the Preposterous, magician extraordinaire!' to 'Presto the Preposterous, super-villain!' to... Samuel Steiner, prisoner 1134, the nobody." He worried his hands together, cracking the knuckles. "And that's sort of what fixed me, I suppose." He smiled, slightly. "I started at the ground floor and worked my way up. I attended prison rehabilitation programs and got clean of the drugs and alcohol. I went to two... three kinds of therapy besides that, including anger management. And when there was that big escape attempt a few years back I stayed in my cell and waited it out. When all was said and done I got a reduced sentence and reduced it further after other examples of good behavior." He shook his head. "I guess that prison taught me that sometimes you have to lose everything, that you have to start over, before you can rebuild yourself into something better." He raised his hands, palms out. "Not that I'm perfect. I still get... angry. Jealous. And I'm still pretty extravagant, obviously. But I'm working on it and I like to think that I'm doing a little better every day." His smile widened. "You guys, you and Lynn, you've been such a big help to me. Having a sort of support network, not to mention a job that I love in a field that I'm interested in... you have no idea how much that means to me. It helps keep me grounded in a way that I don't think anything else could."

Jeez, I'm sorry; let me fix that. I'm currently using the demo because I'm frugal to a fault. If I'm understanding correctly, this should be everything. Emotion Control 7 (Extras: Auditory Perception, Selective; Feats: Mind Blank, Reversible; Flaws: Happiness Only, Range 2; Drawback: Noticeable) [8/8] Just say the word and I'll edit the first post.

So, instead of Area: Burst it would be Area: Perception Auditory? You're right, I missed that. I use HeroLab to check my math and it doesn't include that option. Would the point value remain the same if it were written out as: Emotion Control 7 (Extras: Area - Perception Auditory, Selective; Feats: Mind Blank, Reversible; Flaws: Auditory, Happiness Only, Range 2; Drawback: Noticeable)? Would that mean that everyone who can hear it is affected, and that it's not limited to a predetermined radius?

Thank you so much for pointing that out; you're absolutely right, I was going for an area effect centered on Presto himself and not, as was written, a sort of 'madness grenade.' I owe you one. I have edited the first post with the following: Emotion Control 7 (Extras: Area Burst, Selective; Feats: Mind Blank, Reversible; Flaws: Auditory, Happiness Only, Range 2; Drawback: Noticeable) [8/8PP]. If that's unacceptable, please let me know.

Presto tapped the fingers of his free hand against his cheek and pondered. "The addiction is true to what I've heard. I did tell Warne that it sounded like the producer was attempting to corner the market -- a sort of 'the first one's free' catch and hold scheme. Maybe that's all there is to it..." He pointed the wand to another of the thugs. "I know that your hideout is in North Bay. What's the exact address, and what kind of defenses can I expect when I get there? I assure you, if I'm caught unawares, I'll come looking for you."