Sophistemon

Hold on to your lug nuts, it's time for an overhaul! The following sheet is a work in progress. I've made significant changes to the original, with many of those changes inspired by the critique that I received in this thread and in the chat. If any further changes need to be made, please let me know and I'll have them done as soon as possible. Thank you. Abilities: 6 + 4 + 6 + 4 + 6 + 4 = 30PP Strength: 32 (+11) / 16 (+3) Dexterity: 14 (+2) Constitution: 16 (+3) Intelligence: 14 (+2) Wisdom: 16 (+3) Charisma: 14 (+2) Combat: 5 + 0 = 10PP Initiative: +2 (+2 Base) Attack: +9 Melee, +9 Ranged / +5 Melee, +5 Ranged Grapple: +37 / +20 / +8 Defense: +9 (+5 Base, +5 Dodge Focus; +2 Flat-Footed) / +5 (+5 Dodge Focus; +2 Flat-Footed) Knockback: -13 / -4 Saving Throws: 3 + 4 + 3 = 10PP Toughness: +11 / +7 / +3 (+3 Con, +8 Protection; +7 Impervious) Fortitude: +6 (+3 Con, +3) Reflex: +6 (+2 Dex, +4) Will: +6 (+3 Wis, +6) Skills: 48R = 12PP Acrobatics 4 (+6) Computers 4 (+6) Diplomacy 4 (+6) Disable Device 4 (+6) Escape Artist 4 (+6) Intimidate 4 (+6) [+2] Notice 4 (+7) Pilot 4 (+7) Search 4 (+6) Sense Motive 4 (+7) Stealth 8 (+10) [-4] Feats: 12PP Benefit 1 (AEGIS Agent) Dodge Focus 5 Equipment 5 Move-by Action Equipment: 5PP = 25EP Commlink (1EP) Tactical Vest (4EP) Arsenal (20EP Container) Base Power: Tear Gas Grenade (18EP) Alternate Equipment: Blaster Rifle (1EP) Alternate Equipment: Fragmentation Grenade (1EP) Powers: 81 = 81PP Device 20 (100PP Container; Flaw: Hard-to-Lose; Feats: Restricted 1; Tech, All Tech) [81PP] Density 4 (+8 STR, Weight Multiplier x2, Immovable 1, Impervious Protection 2, Super-Strength 1; Extra: Continuous; Flaw: Permanent) [12PP] Growth 4 (+8 STR, +1 Size Category [Large: -1 ATK/DEF, +4 Grapple, -4 Stealth, +2 Intimidate, 10ft Reach]; Extra: Continuous; Flaws: Permanent, no CON bonus) [8PP] Primary Array (22PP Array; Feats: Alternate Power 3, Dynamic Power 3) [30PP] Base Power: Healing 10 (Extra: Total; Flaw: Self-only; Feats: Persistent, Regrowth) [22PP] Dynamic Alternate Power: Blast 11 (110-1,100ft) [22PP] Dynamic Alternate Power: Flight 11 (25,000mph, 220,000ft/rnd) [22PP] Dynamic Alternate Power: Snare 11 (110-1,100ft) [22PP] Dynamic Alternate Power: Super-Strength 11 (up to 90 Effective Strength) [22PP] Secondary Array (12PP Array; Feat: Alternate Power 1) Base Power: Autofire (Blast) 11 [11PP] Alternate Power: Penetrating (Blast) 11 [11PP] Enhanced Trait 5 (Attack Bonus) + Enhanced Trait 5 (Defense Bonus) [10 + 10 = 20PP] Immunity 9 (Life Support) [9PP] Protection 2 (Extra: Impervious 5) [7PP] Super-Senses 2 (Darkvision) [2PP] Drawbacks: (-5) = -5PP Normal Identity (Very Common, Major) DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Blast 11 110ft DC26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Energy) Blaster Rifle 8 80ft DC23 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Energy) Frag Grenade 5 50ft DC15 Reflex Blast Explosion 5 Tear Gas 4 40ft DC14 Reflex Dazzle 4 + Nauseate Explosion 4 Unarmed 11 Touch DC26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Unarmed 3 Touch DC18 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Totals: Abilities (30) + Combat (10) + Saving Throws (10) + Skills (12) + Feats (12) + Powers (81) + Miscellaneous (???) - Drawbacks (-5) = 150/15 Power Points.

That would be so totally in character for him that I wouldn't even be mad.

I know, right? If I'd rolled a third six (satanic triplets!) I would have at least passed the Sense Motive check but, nope! What a pain in my tuchus this is.

Sure thing, boss. Intelligence Check: 1d20+7 13 Crap. Knowledge: Arcane Lore: 1d20+11 17 Crap. Sense Motive: 1d20+10 13 Crap.

Presto's grin receded as he got back to business. "Starlight," he said. "Yes." He strode towards the counter with long, even steps. "I've... only ever heard things from friends, but I've never used it myself." He reached the counter and pressed a single finger down on the coin, which he then slowly pushed towards Terry. "Tell me, before I buy: what can I expect?"

Sam had to struggle against himself to stop from snorting derisively at what must pass for an 'artifact' in Fortune Favors, but the smile maintained itself as winningly as ever. "I'm the real deal," he agreed, and then thought for a moment. "I'm real and then some." He shrugged -- what could it hurt? -- and held out one hand with his empty palm facing towards the ceiling. He closed his fingers, squeezed them tightly, and then opened them again to reveal the large, polished silver dollar the rested in his hand. "Play close attention," he said, and waved his other hand over the coin before he once again closed his fingers. He brought both hands together, rubbed them, and spread them wide. A live, brilliantly yellow canary flew out from between his fingers and landed on the counter in front of Terry. It tweeted sweetly for a few seconds before it burst into bright silver flames which, when they died down, revealed... the coin. The magician's grin widened, and this time it was real. He loved this sort of thing just as much as Terry did, and to perform for a captive audience was a treat that he savored. "I used to perform in Las Vegas," he announced. "And I picked up some very... nasty habits. I'm here today because I was told that you might have something in stock to satisfy my cravings?"

Diplomacy Check: 1d20+8 14 Oh, baby, I ain't never gonna roll you right. Let's try to butter him up with some good old fashioned magic. Perform: Stage Magic: 1d20+13 31 Whoa-hoh-hoh! Now that's what I'm talkin' about.

Samuel Steiner sat at what amounted to his dining room table in his dreary, substandard apartment and read the morning paper while sipping periodically from a steaming cup of bitter coffee. He didn't like bitter coffee, of course, but it was all he could afford and, so -- slurp. He grinned, slightly, at the news that an old rival had been brought to justice and finally incarcerated but his brief, gloating reverie was disturbed by a sudden thud on his kitchen window. He looked up, startled, to see a fat gray pigeon scrabbling frantically at the glass. He stood and, as he did, noticed that the bird was glaring at him with one of its baleful orange eyes. "What the devil?" he murmured, and then waved his hands at the thing. "Shoo! Shoo, go on before you break it!" The bird ignored him and continued to beat its wings against the glass, squawking all the while. Sam narrowed his eyes at the foul-tempered fowl and was preparing to ignore it... when he looked beyond the bird and into the city, where he saw the panic unfolding as countless more birds were, apparently, going completely coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. Minutes later he had dressed and made his way outside, donning his mask just as he exited the building. Maintaining a secret identity wasn't very high on his list of priorities: he'd been publicly revealed more than once already and his name was a matter of public record. He drew his wand from its hidden pocket within his suit-jacket and aimed it at a group of finches that were swarming, wasp-like, around the heads of a young couple that dashed down the street. With a word a powerful gust of wind erupted from the wand's silver tip and blew the tiny birds up, up, and away. "Get inside!" he shouted. "I'll fend them off!"

Sam looked up from the small crystal skull that he had been examining -- quartz, of course, as cheap and tawdry as they come -- and flashed one of his prize-winning smiles at the overweight proprietor. "Maybe," he said, drawing out the word so that it became a question. "Maybe." He straightened to his full, moderately impressive height and strode to the counter, the smile never wavering on his face. "I've heard from an associate of mine that you've got something special in the back -- reserved for a more 'unusual' clientele? I was interested in getting my hands on some." The grin stretched a little at the corners, growing ever so slightly wider. How did he get his teeth so white? "In fact," he continued. "I'd be interested in purchasing as much as possible."

Sam grinned. "Don't worry, don't worry," he said. "I know how to sell an illusion." He began to button his undershirt back up, covering the wire, and stepped out of the vehicle. A moment later he was pushing open the door to Fortune Favors, which caused a small bell above the door to merrily herald his entry. The magician grinned and pulled his slightly-ratty jacket closer against his body as be began to peruse the wares. His eyes passed over the largely unimpressive baubles, trinkets, knickknacks (of a more benign and non-cannibalistic variety) that lined the shelves and adorned the display tables and he slowly, slowly, slowly made his way towards the counter at the front of the store and the man there that maintained it.

Presto versus the Matriarch sounds good, if you'll have me.

Sam couldn't help but smirk at their concern, feigned though it might have been. What could some talent-less nobody of a shopkeeper possibly do that could threaten the life of Presto the Preposterous? Nothing, that's what. Still, if they wanted a word, he'd give them one. "I suppose that 'Oh no please don't kill me ahh' would be too on the nose?" He smiled, then rolled his eyes. "I'll invoke the haggard hordes of Hastur; it's a saying that can mean quite a few things -- notably shock, awe, and surprise. If he's had even basic interactions with magicians, he's probably heard it enough times that it won't sound out of place. You, on the other hand, should notice it right away."

Sam nodded. "Right, right." He paused, thinking. With his skill at alchemy, he probably could make the stuff and, for a brief moment, wondered just how much money there might be in it for him if he did. He shook those thoughts from his mind -- one glance at Warne reminded him of why he needed to keep on the straight and narrow. As powerless as the agent seemed, Sam got the niggling feeling that he didn't want to cross the man that Knickknack had called Adept. The magician ran a hand through his hair and then lowered it to his jaw to straighten his goatee. "Don't worry. It's not... uh, it's not the first time that I've bought drugs. I know how to handle myself. Keep it cool and offer money up front."

That didn't answer the implied question about the name -- 'Adept' -- but Sam let the matter drop. It was none of his business anyway, and if he pressed the issue Warne would probably just shrug it off or threaten him. It wasn't worth the hassle. Sam looked out of the window, at the approaching shore, and zipped up his coat to cover the suit-jacket that he was wearing. "So, the plan is that I go in and ask for some of the... what did she call it? Drops of starlight. Are you coming in, or will I need to wear a wire?"

Is there room for one more? A Puppet Presto sounds awesome -- just think of the alliteration!

Sam arched a thumb back in the direction from which they'd come. "Like a cell in Blackstone. Believe me, agent Warne, I'm doing all I can to stay out of there. Consider it a lesson learned." A thought occurred to him, then, and he blinked. "Uh, speaking of back there... Kilmns called you something -- 'Adept,' I think it was. Is that, like, a code-name? Have you dealt with her before?"

Presto grinned at the familial tit-for-tat and removed his own mask, which he returned to its interior pocket. He shook Harold's hand and said, "A pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Sam." He looked over at the women and rolled his eyes. "You watch," he told them. "I'm going to find a way to turn my suit into other clothes some day, and I'll be able to pull that off too."

Sam raised a finger and indicated his mouth -- he was already chewing. When he swallowed, he spoke. "Yeah, I've just finished a five year stay in Blackstone prison." The words feel like acid on his tongue, and he winced despite himself. "I suppose that I'm lucky, in a way. Maybe of my former, uh, peers are genuinely psychotic... or at least driven by obsessions that I don't have. I got there by making bad -- er, really bad -- decisions and I fixed that by starting to make good ones." He waved a hand towards the two girls. "Meeting these two helped. Once I got out, I mean... nobody hires 'cons at the best of times. But a former supervillain?" He blew air through his lips in a raspberry. "Forget about it. These two, though? Saints. Too good for this world."

Steiner nodded, understanding, and then frowned. "I'll be honest with you, I don't know what I want -- other than to avoid a cell for the rest of my life. I have this... job, at a bookstore. I told you about that. And I work for and with people that I really like, and it's going to come with some... pretty amazing perks eventually. But beyond that? I don't know." He paused, lapsed into silence, and then continued. "But... thanks. It feels good to contribute something. I guess that what I want most is a change. Something new, and better than before." He smiled. "And if it pays well, so much the better."

Right now Presto's smouldering a little because he doesn't see that Warne considers him any better than Kilmns. Presto saw himself as a classy criminal, a gentleman thief that provided entertainment even as he robbed. Whether or not that's true, that's how he saw it. So to be considered a peer of someone like Kilmns irks him terribly. He felt similarly when they implied that he might be afraid of her and reacted with overblown haughty indignation. The character is really all about pride and how it can twist you up inside. Presto wanted to be the greatest stage magician who ever lived, so he sought out and learned real magic. When that failed, his pride was wounded and rather than try to salvage his reputation he immediately turned to crime because with his powers it was easy and therefore something that he could feel accomplished about. But with Presto, right now no victory is large enough and every setback is crippling. He's a man defined by his own warped self-perception.

Sam shook his head. "Temptation, nothing. I quit stuff like that when I was stuck in a cell. I couldn't believe how clearly I could think once it was finally out of my system and I wasn't craving it anymore." He leaned back into his seat and crossed one leg over the other. "I didn't mention Terry's last name," he said. "Which means that you knew about him beforehand. Did you send me to talk to Kilmns to confirm a suspicion, or what?"

"Magic is a double-edged sword," explained the magician. "A single changed ingredient, a different word, and a spell can have a completely different effect. And keep in mind that she's a murderous, cannibalistic psychopath. I'm not being cold, I'm being practical. Surely you can both understand the importance of leverage." He let Warne speak, then, and listened intently. "A sting?" he asked. "No, I don't mind it, I guess. But don't expect me to actually take the stuff. I hate bugs, and I'd hate illusory bugs that I can't even squash even more."

Sam stopped mid-step and turned back to the cell. "I would need to know what I am, first," he said. "Thank you for you help, Knickknack. Sweet dreams." He quickened his pace to catch up to Warne and the Blackguard, the latter of whom he addressed in a low, grumbling whisper. "Replace the poppyseed oil with aniseed and she'll be trapped in an eight-hour nightmare. Keep that in mind if she... misbehaves." He looked, then, to Warne. "Fortune Favors is a hole in the wall hocus pocus hobby shop run by a Giftless loser named Terry and patronized by a bunch of tourists. Nobody with real power goes there, partly because he sells worthless junk but mostly because he's a fence and a bad one. I can't imagine why he hasn't been shut down, but it's lucky that he hasn't because now we can pay him a visit and get to the bottom of this." His expression was grim and Warne would doubtlessly get the distinct impression that Knickknack's last words had wriggled under the magician's skin and stayed there.

Sam licked his lips at the mention of food, and then began actively salivating when Butch rattled off tonight's menu. "My God," he said tailing behind the women as they entered the trailer. "That smells amazing." He stopped, pausing slightly as he noticed Butch's impairment, but did his level best to avoid looking at the chair. Instead, he addressed the man directly. "This place is incredible," he said, repeating earlier sentiments. "I'm very impressed by what you've put together. How often do you all get together and do this sort of thing?"

Sam removed a pen and small pad of paper from a pocket inside of his jacket. He spoke aloud as he wrote out her instructions. "Fortune Favors... Riverside... Terry... Drops of Starlight. There." He glanced back at Warne with something meaningful in his eyes, and then flipped the page and spent a minute or two writing something else. When he was done, he tore the page out and handed it to the guard. "You should be able to make that in the prison kitchens, if your resident magician is skilled enough. I suggest mixing the resulting solution into a cup of hot tea with a bit of honey and lemon. It worked wonders for me. And you can go ahead and have them look over the spell -- I'm not going to jeopardize my freedom by doling out black magic." He then turned his attention back to Kilmns. "I appreciate your trust, Knickknack," he said. "And I assure you, provided that they do it correctly, you shouldn't be bothered by the nightmares anymore."