Pandorym

((Sorry, Winter Finals attacked.)) "So be it; your path is chosen. No matter what happens now, should I succeed or fail, you have decided your destiny." As Ned spoke, his words having had the desired effect on Yuki at least, his minions dragged themselves and each other away; it was up to their leader to buy time to make good their escape. He would fight to the end, and they knew it, for he had instructed them, and they saw in him a man of true faith. That faith lent him strength as he leaned down and ripped away the webs restraining him once again. His sword came to his hand once more, and from behind his faceplate he dared his foes to make the first move. The time for words had passed, and only swift combat could result in a victory for the Luddites.

Certain he heard something, let his sword remain covered by the windowsill, then stepped out into plain view. He wasn't sure exactly where the sound had come from, only that it was outside. Neither did he see anything, but he didn't waste time looking too hard. Whatever the problem was, it needed to be resolved swiftly. No outsider save an ally, and Ned had no allies, could be allowed to escape having heard even a snippet of the conversation. Still, it was time to take a more direct approach. Teenagers who were detected often gave up if called out. "I know you're out there; come into the open, please. You're trespassing, by the way."

((Sense Motive or Will Save, whichever is higher, against DC 22 to resist intimidate. Last ditch attempt, here.)) "Your pathetic attempts at misdirection will not work on me. Now, stand aside!" Ned knew that he had failed to convince the sinister vigilante in the mask to back down, and also that he was in trouble if SWAT caught up to him. He didn't have long if he was going to avoid that fate, particularly given that he had wounded minions to consider. Yet lies were not his specialty; facts or threats were by far preferred, and while one would not sway the foes arrayed before him, perhaps the other would. If not, he would go down fighting hard, and perhaps with the aid of justice escape from whatever place became his prison. But better not to think of that yet; a chance still remained. Drawing himself up as high as the goo would allow, he spoke again. "Your feeble minds cannot fathom the majesty and power of that which I serve; if you do not get out of my way, I will be forced to invoke them, and even should I fall, the eyes of my master will be upon you, and a terrible curse upon your heads. You will not see my ways, only treat me with violence; it is indeed a dark day, for those who are the true heroes are misunderstood and hunted while thugs like you, who care nothing for motivations or virtues, enforce their interpretations of law through brutal violence. You have already transgressed, and you have stopped my 'crime'. Your goals are met, and your sins committed. If you do not stand aside now, you will prevent me from performing an act of mercy, and the full wrath of Justice will be upon you. This is your final warning: let me and mine go."

Sorry, I thought you'd already rolled a sneak. Must have been seeing things. Ned hasn't seen you, but he has heard you. No need to roll stealth for him; sanctis can see and hear him.

((Roll sense motive against Ned's bluff, 19, to disbelieve his threat. I knew I should have taken bluff instead of all those stupid knowledges... thank heaven for synergy bonuses, or this would be even more pathetic.)) In a flash, three of Ludd's minions went down; none had succeeded in striking their target anyway. Ned was soon entrapped in yet another burst of webbing, his right arm immobilized to match his legs. The plan had failed, and now the man could only hope to survive. Had he proven unworthy of the support of Justice? Why was he failing in his quest? All at once, he knew what he had to do. He could not prevail against the one heroine, and it would be impossible to even escape against two and the SWAT team that would arrive imminently. It was time to use the only weapon left to him, in order to save himself and his followers. Already three were badly injured, and he was in no condition to fight. Steeling and focusing his mind, he raised his voice to speak as his minions backed away at a hand signal he gave. "You are mistaken; we do not kill. In fact, you are more vile than we are. We both have our masks, yet you seem to have more to hide than to protect. You do not know this woman; why would you leap in on her behalf? She professes to be a heroine, as you are a hero, but are you a hero? Or are you instead a man consumed by anger, focusing it into swift death for those you judge unrighteous? What if I told you I asked this woman to leave peacefully? What if I told you I attacked her as a last resort, and without the intention of doing her permanent harm? Would you reconsider? No; you are too set into your self-righteous ways. You revel in the violence, no doubt, telling yourself it is for the good of society while cracking heads against walls and gazing in morbid fascination at the spilled blood. I do what I do because I believe in my heart that it is right, and the only way to achieve a better dawn tomorrow for those who suffer as a result of company managers like those who occupy that tower. But since you will not listen to reason, and since this woman has ceased my crusade through her powers, I give you this: let me and my followers leave this place, or I will detonate my armor. You have seen its prowess, deflecting what should have been the most grievous wounds; imagine that, released in an eldritch storm of energy from the very power of Justice itself. Therefore, we stand at a crossroads. You may continue to attack those you are unwilling to take the time to understand, and in so doing kill all of us, or you can back away and let us tend to our wounded and depart. I wish you no harm unless you continue your pursuit and violence; Justice has not favored me this day, and I long to return and discover the reason for this."

All taken care of, Doctor. Forgive my negligence. Nice combo, Avenger. Things are starting to look really, really bad for me.

January 25, 2009: A protest, inspired by layoffs and outsourcing by Majestic Corporation, takes place outside their main offices in downtown Freedom. Inspired through the combined charisma (and hidden treachery) of Lazarus Swain and Ned Ludd, the protest becomes a full riot, but through the intervention of the heroes Avenger and Quark and the Heroine Tarantula, attempts by Majestic's security staff to destroy files relevant to criminal trials in the company were foiled, and the damage done by Ned's dastardly plan was minimized.

((If any Luddites hit, save against damage from a normal sword, with Str modifier +3 applied)) Ned was disheartened to see another blast of webbing coming his way, and even more disheartened when he failed to avoid it. Nearly toppling, he found his legs thoroughly entangled in the stuff. Still, he had been able to deal with it before, and could do it again. Still, he would have to wait before attempting to rip away the unconventional weapon, for the attack had been too swift for him to take immediate action. His minions, however, suffered no such problems, and charged Yuki with their blades raised. They were well trained in their use, swinging with precision and power alike, though some were hindered by the press of their peers. None noticed Avenger moving stealthily behind them as their attacks commenced; they cared not who now intervened provided their target fell. The edges of the tear gas began to encompass Ned once again, and he coughed a bit through his helmet.

No need for that, Avenger. You have thoroughly trashed any chance of being seen. Thank you for the warning, Moira. We'll miss Sandman until he returns.

((Still no sign of Sandman, but I guess we'll go on. It has been too long.)) The woman's persistence was once again proving tiresome, and though her punches bounced away from the steel-clad behemoth headed for his escape route, Ned had to wonder if he could get away with thoroughly trashing at least her. Turning around, he raised his blade and swung it in a lazy arc, probably far too lazy to actually strike his foe. The SWAT team wouldn't join the fight for a bit; they would have to fumble through the fog of their own tear gas, however well protected they were. He had time to test her defenses, and time to do some damage if the opportunity presented itself... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Annalyn didn't know exactly how the man had been able to do what he had done, but she was grateful for it. It meant that she could bring a little bit of justice, a bit of revenge for the friends she'd lost along the way. If there was only just enough, just a few irrefutable links to criminal activities, she might have Majestic's lawyers scrambling for a year or more as their stock tanked. But if not, if they had won and all of this had been for nothing... well, better not to think about that. Her savior had taken quite a beating getting to this stuff, and it had better be worth it for both their sakes; she was technically breaking and entering, as well as engaging in theft, and his public image, if he had one, would have as many scars as he did if it all went down the drain. Cautiously, the young woman felt around for the lightswitch and flicked it back on. Stepping into the room and beholding the mess of blood and paperwork she gave a little gasp, then applied steel to her nerves. She wasn't quite done yet. "I don't know what to say, except thank you. I swear I'll do my best to bring these people down. Just don't let those rioters bring this building down on my head." And with that, she turned her keen eyes to searching the papers.

Yuki, your rolls have been beautiful, sufficient to make me feel like a bad person for making this character. Unfortunately, Ned is entirely immune to bludgeoning, slashing, piercing, and ballistic damage; your fists, no matter how mighty, will not harm him as long as he wears his armor, which cannot be taken from him unless he is rendered helpless. As Avenger noted, he is not immune to knockback, nor to stun, nor to poison, nor to fire and the like. Do you want to continue with that post? I'd feel guilty just walking away after all this, so perhaps you can find a way to give Ned a whack or two, but even with such beautiful attacks, you can't put a dent in him. If you see another way, feel free to edit; if not, we'll move on. Sandman, your days of bored waiting are over! Get back here, you!

I'm taking a little poetic license with the round times, or else it doesn't make any sense. Sorry for my late post, I've been involved in a concert and rehersals all week. I don't really know how well my post came out; if people don't like it, or have a beef with some point or another, or want this to go one longer, PLEASE tell me. Anything at all. I'll look tomorrow, I'm a bit delirious right now. I'll delete and rework the whole post if I have to.

No window panes remained in the front of Majestic's Freedom City offices; the great neon logo over the entrance sparked and sputtered, cracked by thrown rocks. Men and women alike still raged, screaming their hatred, incited to acts of destruction they would never consider were it not for the voice of their misguided guide. Yet as they trampled the shattered glass and those protesters that had fallen before the onslaught of the Heroes or one another, a sound began to waft over their heads, something entirely out of place with the cars and the shouting and the beeps and clicks of urban life. Yet it did not conflict with these sounds, instead combining into something else entirely. Slowly the vandals stopped, listening, as the music flowed through their ears and into their confused minds. "Bhulbona ar shohojete Shei praan e mon uthbe mete Mrittu majhe dhaka ache je ontohin praan" Signs dropped from hands, fists unclenched. The assembled people, a tempest of fury only moments earlier, sat down and listened. Their eyes looked off into the distance, not seeing but contemplating what they had done, and asking why. They found their own actions suddenly repulsive, the opposite of what they should have done. And still they sat, hanging on every word of a language they did not understand. "Bojre tomar baje bashi She ki shohoj gaan Shei shurete jagbo ami" Even as sirens approached they remained as they were, entranced. Armored vans, SWAT painted on the sides in stark white letters against the black, pulled up just outside the crowd, and men and women in riot armor piled out, bringing with them beanbag shotguns and tactical batons. Three squads had driven at full tilt from Hannover the moment they heard of a super's involvement in the riot, and though now there was no riot to speak of, the super threat remained. Even these officers, hurrying to do their duty, became more composed as the notes broadcasted by the silver being above reached their ears. They bypassed the enchanted crowd and made their way into the building, ready to bring down whatever threats they had to with the dignity and professionalism any officer of the law should possess. It was a good thing the Hero had done what he had, when he had, newscasters would soon remark; anything less, and someone would have gotten hurt when they showed up. "Bojre tomar baje bashi She ki shohoj gaan Shei shurete jagbo ami" Several of the protestors, interviewed later in the day, would describe the end of the protest as one of the most eye-opening moments of self discovery they had ever experienced. Still they sat, listening and reflecting, reconsidering their positions and their lives as peace and tranquility blanketed Wading Way... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gavin Jackson had dealt with some nasty situations, sure, but the riot had been way out of his league. Equally foreign to him was how it ended; one moment he'd been in terror for his life, the next everything had become calm and still. He felt his fear-fueled adrenaline fading away as waves of calm likewise washed over him, and his hand left his holstered gun, which he had been tempted to draw as his position was nearly overrun. What he really needed, he decided, was to take a week, no, a month off from the force; he'd spent too much time on his job, and not enough with his girlfriend. He needed to prove he knew what was really important, and he had the savings to do it. A couple of weeks in Tahiti would do the trick... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The music did not reach the dark basement, where a far less tranquil scene took place, to say the least. Avenger burst from the room, the remaining light from the green "Exit" sign reflecting off of the blood on his hands and making his fearsome, cracked mask dimly visible. Annalyn felt like she was in some kind of horror movie; it was clear that, while the Hero had survived, he'd taken a beating while doing it, and his rage had not left him. His shouts terrified her, but she swallowed and faced what little she could see of him. She still had to see this through to the end, like she had promised. In a soft but firm voice, she spoke out again, her tone giving the impression of being in control of the situation despite her worry. "I'm here. Are they... are they gone? Did you stop them?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ned's grip of steel was sufficient even to hold the heroine when she used her great agility to attempt to writhe away; his strength, born of a childhood spent in factories and several decades of hard training, was difficult to surpass or escape. Yet his voice could not convince his captive so well as it had the crowd outside; she was not so weak-minded, or as he preferred to think, so open-minded. He might not be able to hold her forever, and thus it was time to dispose of her. Raising his sword in his other hand, he prepared to do what had to be done; her injuries would cripple her for a time, but not kill her. Then it struck him; the crowd had stopped their shouting, and a different sound entirely, almost too soft to hear from his distance, wafted through the shattered windows. The tread of booted feet was the next thing he identified, and as he swung over his shoulder he beheld several SWAT squads, weapons aimed at him and the minions beyond. The game was up; continuing now would harm too many of the misguided for anyone to believe in his cause. But they had put him in a very bad position... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Captain Keila Spring stood at the head of the assembled SWAT teams, a grenade launcher in her hands. Though Ned towered over her five foot two frame like a rifle over a carbine, her form was almost as well-muscled as his, and many times as nimble. She had read the reports about this crazy anti-technology vigilante and his cult following, and the moment she'd heard about the expanding riot and suspected who was behind it, she had asked to be assigned to the case. If anyone brought in Ludd, it was going to be her. She had studied eyewitness accounts of his armor's seeming invulnerability, and drawn conclusions from the patterns of his attacks; in fact, she was almost disappointed she hadn't realized this would be the next place he would strike. More important than that, however, was the literal chink in Ludd's armor. Raising her grenade launcher, she fired it straight and true, causing the projectile to explode not far from his face, which he had turned to look at her. Thinking of his foe, she yelled quick instructions. "Close your eyes and cover your nose and mouth, lady!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The one conventional weapon Ned feared was thus utilized against him; someone had very carefully considered the problem of his armor. Yet he held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut in time, though he could not cover his nose, and the stinging vapors began to enter. With an exhalation he pushed them out, resisting them for the moment, but he knew he was in trouble if he lingered. He did his best to throw Yuki from him, but in resisting the tear gas he sacrificed much of the power of his maneuver. Turning, he dashed down the nearest hallway as quickly as his armor would allow, his minions following. He made an unceremonious exit into a nearby alley through a window, then prepared to keep running; he had done what he could, and would have done more if the meddling heroine had not delayed and disgraced him. With a curse, he ran on. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((Yuki: due to advance warning, DC 12 fort save vs. Tear Gas, failure means nauseated)) Goggles and mask firmly in place, Captain Spring rushed to where Yuki had landed, feeling for her hand in the white gloom; she had no desire to get someone who had opposed Ludd injured or killed, especially by a weapon she had used. She would do her best to guide the heroine out of the affected area, hopefully before the gas burned her eyes and lungs too badly...

((By most rulesets I've seen, a nat 20 is a success except against another nat 20 with higher modifier; is that different here?)) Ned watched his captive through his faceplate, his enraged features in the midst of their return to calm collectedness. His enemy was within his power, and nothing could possibly go awry. Too late the young heroine fired another globule of webbing, for the tormented madman twisted aside as it streaked toward him, causing it to miss his faceplate by mere centimeters. His fingers still maintained a grip of steel, his terrible strength holding fast the one who had dared interfere in his plans. And yet he hesitated, a mere moment of clarity gracing his senses, before bringing his hand down. With a flying of sparks, four computers of the twenty were destroyed. A Luddite bashed one aside with his shield, while another didn't hit quite hard enough and rebounded from the metal casing. A third one was impaled by the blade of a fearsome sword, a fourth ripped apart by a gauntleted fist, and a fifth smashed in by a steel foot. All save the Luddite who had failed moved to new targets, ready to accomplish their primary goal once more. "Even a victory would have been hollow, defender of corporatism. You can only protect injustice for so long before the veil is ripped away. Now, cease your struggles! Open your mind and see us as the liberators we really are." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Wolfe was given no time to savor his triumph, as the next instant a tremendous CRACK sounded through the basement. It wasn't just Avenger's mask, either; the director of security fell to the ground with a confused look on his face, laughed for a few moments, and then fell onto his side, curling into the fetal position as he hugged a fallen desk drawer. Blood streamed from both his nose and his forehead, and the flesh in the latter spot began rapidly to turn an ugly bluish-purple. The hero was left with the shattered bodies of subdued goons around him, and the remaining files scattered across the floor. All of that amounted to enough evidence to get Majestic in serious, serious trouble, but who could be trusted with it? Only he could decide. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((Next round, the riot is broken at long last!))

That's really impressive: a typo in the post where I apologise for stupidity. Thanks for pointing that out. thejoshie, are you still around? If I made a bad call, please tell me, I'm happy to edit.

Sorry, my bad. It's 13, thanks to the +1 knife bonus. Nothing you should be unable to handle... better luck for Wolfe next time, if there is one. Then again, the slowness might get you regardless. I apologise once again for my horrible disorganization. I've messed up a lot, and I thank you all for bearing with me; this is actually the first adventure I've ever run in this game system. I promise I'll do better next time, and I'll try to do so in the posts to come.

Lazarus Swain's house was a fine representation of the period in which it was built, not long after Freedom City's founding; no electricity, no running water, and restored using period techniques. The rings and hisses of metalworking occasionally sounded from the gated courtyard in front, though not so on that particular day, and passers-by would often note that Swain himself could be seen sitting near one of the upstairs windows, pondering a book of history of philosophy. The demagogue refused to provide tours, stating that his residence was not a curiosity but instead representative of the way things should be, but the neighbors knew well that he did not live alone, as five others could commonly be seen entering and leaving. What they could not possibly guess from all this disjointed information was that Swain was in fact Ned Ludd, infamous anti-technology vigilante fallen from a noble cause but believing himself to still be serving it. Ludd and his Luddites spent much of their time spreading the words of their beliefs in their normal identities, with the more violent aspects removed in order to gain some public approval. They encouraged people to contemplate their reliance on technology, and to look at where that technology came from and thus who they were supporting by buying and using it. As often as possible they entered their shining armor, moving covertly through the streets to strike swiftly at symbols of capitalism in the hopes of further opening the eyes of the civilian population. Of the remaining time, some was spent in personal commitments, some in repairing weapons and armor, some in eating and sleeping, and some in the reaffirmation of doctrine. When Sanctis made his discovery, it was the final sort of time that was in session; around a handmade oak table sat four men and two women, all powerfully built, though five clearly dwarfed by the vast figure of the sixth. They dressed in homespun garments, and anyone who had walked through parks on the days of his speeches would recognize Lazarus Swain as the most muscular of them all. "...Brother and sister Luddites, we know our cause is just, and we know that, no matter how many defeats we find, victory is inevitable. Our cause is just; it inevitably leads toward victory, for as long as there are those left in the world who see the truth and champion it, the powers above will look favorably upon them and their cause. With their aid, there can be no lasting loss. Though we may fall in battle, or be captured by the enemy or its misguided servants, our spirits shall live on and bolster our allies with righteous fury, through which they will tear down the corporate towers and teach Humanity to live as it was meant to live once again. We will open oppression's shackles and free the downtrodden from those who claim them as property, and abolish the laws that legitimize exploitation of the weak; these goals we shall accomplish by any means necessary, and... hold, a moment... I think we are not alone." Reaching over to the cabinet beside the table and moving his hand behind it, Ned withdrew Gladius Eraditum Apparatos from its hidden sheath and crept to the window, sword in hand. Slowly he edged the window open, his blade hidden behind the windowframe but ready to strike; he could not risk revealing himself to some teenager on a dare, and had no particular desire to harm anyone, but if his stronghold was under attack by true foes mercy was a luxury he could ill afford. He had heard a sound coming from just beyond the sill, and would have to ensure that no one had overheard his conversation...

Two rounds, as of now. Very close! The penultimate moment is at hand. Congrats on getting this far, gang, though it has been harder for some of you than for others *cough*avengermowsdowngoonstoofast*cough*. All that aside, I apologise for slow posting speed; I have six papers to write in four days, and it has been slow going, but I promise to do my best to keep up.

((Just to let you know, Yuki's hands are not restrained; she might be able to use her Snare again, unless it has some kind of recharge time.)) "My, you have a vulgar mind; I am not that kind of man. Hold still, and this will soon end. I will not kill you, despite your hostile actions." Ned calmed somewhat as he managed to maintain his grip on his foe despite her potent efforts, his armored hand clenched firmly around her throat and blocking off her windpipe as her dangling legs bounced off his breastplate. It was a shame, really; it was a waste of time to bring her down, but she had shown that she was no servant of justice, and therefore she could not be allowed to interfere in his plans again. With a flick of his free hand, the armored powerhouse directed his men into the advertising room beyond. The five of them positioned their blades, preparing to bring them through the plastic lids and into the delicate electronics beneath. Majestic had to pay for their ruthless ways, all of them agreed upon that point; it was a shame indeed that laws protected such scum as they, and blinded their customers to their dark dealings. With time, even the young heroine might understand, but that time was not yet. Raising his free hand once more, Ned prepared to give the order for a mechanical coup de grace, and a step toward both infamy and the discovery of truth... "Now, prepare to witness the undoing of these tools of evil!" ((Roll to maintain grapple next round)) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((Two rounds to Riotbreaker activation!)) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((Knife damage + DC 16 will save if hit; should the save fail, be slowed as per the Paralyze power description, but never paralyzed.)) Wolfe's recovery was cut short by a foot to the face, a potent blow that no amount of military training could avoid or resist. He stumbled back over the chair, nose twisted at an odd angle and streaming blood, but somehow managed to stay upright. Where before there was an almost playful malice in his eyes, the twin orbs now shone with the desire for a gory, thorough murder. Hefting the knife again he lunged forward low and fast, enchanted blade outstretched, pouring all of his new hatred for this hero into the fearsome attack. Though the man was clearly injured after Avenger's attack, he might yet escape if he could finish off his opponent, and his present attack would prove just as difficult to resist as the one that had sent him reeling backward in the first place. With the aid of sorcery, however, his might prove even more potent, for the knife he wielded had the power to make foes sluggish and easily bested...

Apologies, I didn't get a pm confirming this until earlier this week, and never checked for this thread until I did. I'll post right away.

Jack had considered himself lucky to have done so well against the super's assault; his luck was short lived. Though he hurled past Darren, he did smash face first into one of the computer desks, then silently slid to the ground, leaving a bloody smear on the metal drawers with which he'd impacted as his bloodied face and broken nose emptied themselves of sanguine fluids. Darren, however, readied himself to fight; the advantage of surprise was now gone, and even without his men, he might be a match for his foe; years undergoing rigorous with the KGB had hardened him, and corporate politics had stripped away any shred of mercy he had left within him. Holding up his dagger and shouting something in what seemed to be two voices at once, the security chief caused blue light to emanate from the blade, casting an eerie glow over the room and removing the advantage of the shadows. "We'll see who made a mistake, fool! You should've left when you had the chance, or at least let us put you out of your misery. Guns are quicker than this will be." That said he lunged at the vigilante, wicked weapon outstretched as the runes upon it flared in anticipation of blood. Yet fate was on Avenger's side, and Wolfe tripped over an overturned chair, his keen strike turning into a botched swing which he desperately tried to correct in time to assail his foe again. Pulling himself back into a defensive crouch he eyed the super, assuring himself that he'd suffered only a temporary setback... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((3 rounds to Riotbreaker)) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ned was lucky; or, as he preferred to think of it, favored by Justice itself. With the edges of his fingertips he grasped Tarantula, then spun her around and grabbed her by the throat. Though he didn't kill, he had no problem taking the heroine out of the picture for a few months, especially after all she had put him through. She was nimble, and had evaded him several times already before her narrow capture, not to mention her accursed web attack. He decided on choking her into unconsciousness, or perhaps throwing her through a bank of computers; he didn't want to fight the riot police, for he had no defense against tear gas and the like, so efficiency was key. Yet he would have to maintain his hold if he were to begin choking her, and luck was not with him that time, merely his normal strength. If she escaped to cause more havoc, he would be very displeased indeed. If not, he had a good chance of ending this charade of combat before it got any further...

Natural 20! Very nice. Regrettably, Ned's grapple modifier is higher than yours. Do you mind if I use the old roll, here? Avenger, that's more than enough to take down the remaining minion, but Wolfe is going to be a bit harder than that.

One minion still stands; two of them had body armor, but only he made his save. The chief also stands.

Got it. Now redoing the post; please stand by. EDIT: Ok, everything should be fixed. Sorry again; if I still screwed up, or if I do so in the future, don't hesitate to tell me.

Heh, um... Congratulations! You... um... passed the test! Good job! I'll fix it right now. Avenger: I misinterpreted your post on the point of closing the furnace. I'll rework the whole thing accordingly. What do you mean Takedown Attack failed? Am I missing something obvious again? Once you answer this, I'll do a full overhaul of all the crap I messed up. May take me until tomorrow; sorry if that's the case.