Avenger Assembled
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Electra and I are going on vacation for two weeks, to my folks' place and her folks' place. We'll have some access online, but it'll be spotty.
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ic House of L: Bringing Down the House (IC)
Avenger Assembled replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in Bayview
When Sage shared what she'd seen with everybody, James' knock resounded through the cheerful house that today was a prison built by a being of great power for his son. After several long moments, the door opened, and a wide-eyed Martha Lucas stared at the children on the porch. Speaking with great care, as if from a dream, she said, "Hello, children. I'm sorry, I'm not feeling very well today. Can you come back later?" -
Raveled - Robin Morrigan Isla Cross - PL11 Hero
Avenger Assembled replied to Raveled's topic in Archived Characters
APPROVED -
Raveled - Robin Morrigan Isla Cross - PL11 Hero
Avenger Assembled replied to Raveled's topic in Archived Characters
I wouldn't go by Robin in a superhero game if I were you, Rav. Too many titters. How does training let her speak languages born eight thousand years after her incarceration? -
ic House of L: Bringing Down the House (IC)
Avenger Assembled replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in Bayview
Letmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeout The words were a sussurus in the background as Sage peered mentally through the doorway into the lush, expansive Lucas house. Martha Lucas was sitting in the kitchen dressed like a 1950s housewife, which she remembered from Faith's stories was about how she usually dressed. There was no sign of a live Rick, though the walls were covered with pictures of the dead hero and his son. The voice in her head called her upstairs, to Mark's room, where the door was shut. In fact, she realized, it was sealed entirely, totally flush with the wall. Slowly, though, it seemed to bubble ever-so-slightly, as if something on the other side was pushing hard. Letmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeout! -
You can't have Skill Mastery: Concentration, Steve Kenson has said so multiple times. Why is an alien who doesn't speak German named after a German tank? (Panzer is a pretty...loaded word too.)
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Flashes of ionic energy propelled the young heroes to an all-too-familiar place; the spots on the sidewalk where they'd watched Mark Lucas die just a few hours earlier. If time itself hadn't changed, that is. The Lucas house was a quiet, peaceful place in an idyllic neighborhood, just as it had always been in the real world for the heroes who'd visited there. An unfamiliar old man, looking as old as Trevor's grandfather in the real world, clad in a sweater-vest and bow-tie was trimming the hedges of the house next door, humming an amiable tune as he worked. There was no sign of the horrific events that had happened in this place earlier today, but of all the places in Freedom City, why would there be?
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"Let's," agreed Avenger. A few more harsh words got Walter's Cox's address out of Positron, who seemed absolutely terrified of the two men leaning over him. "Start with minion. Break him. Make him talk. Meet you there," he suggested, already rising to his feet as one more whack with the crowbar sent Positron down solidly. "Midtown."
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Avenger: 4 pp 2 more ranks of Attack Focus: Melee [2 pp] I'll leave him at PL 14 Defensive caps for now. 1 rank of Stealth and 3 ranks of Investigate [1 pp] 1 more rank in the Equipment feat adding the following features to Avenger's Headquarters [1 pp] Affects Insubstantial 2 [2 ep] Add the 'Computer' feature [1 ep] Switch the Area on the Suffocate and Paralyze to Aura [2 ep]. The wards can get anything they can see, so long as it's actually inside the apartment. Edge: 2 pp 8 ranks of Stealth (2 pp) Freedom Angel: 2 pp 1 more rank of Diplomacy; 3 more ranks of Intimidate (1 pp) Another rank of Luck (1 pp) DONE BY SHAENTHEBRAIN
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When he was sure the beast was down, Avenger picked up a fallen piece of rebar and headed for the steps. Between his own fearsome reputation, the fallen beast, and the danger to the structural integrity of the station, he was pretty sure the civilians around here would get out while the getting was good. Rebar over his shoulder, he walked out onto the street, blinking against the bright day, as he studied the situation. "Hm." Rebar in hand, he walked up to the monster, ready to hit it as hard as he could if it made a move his way.
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No one would call themselves that in the World of Freedom.
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Avenger: First Blood: 6 Avenger vs Lukos: 5 Interrupting Cow: 7 Opening Credits: 8 Public Service: 10 Monsters in the Streets: 1 Dead Men Tell: 2 Edge: Japanese Import: 3 Banking On It: 1 New Sound: 4 Freedom Angel: Angelic Visitation: 9 GMing: Fast Heroes and Loose Women: 3 House of L: Wakeup call: 23 The One Where They Fight Nazis: 9 House of L: 6 Childhood Dream: 2
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"I thought...I thought mankind deserved better than their allotment," said the angel, showing the first hesitation Elphinstone had seen from him. Not that he was trying to be deceptive, rather that it was simply hard for him to discuss. "The infinite justice of Heaven may provide justice in the world beyond this one, but for the span of mortal life in this one, the world can be cold and unfeeling. As ambassador, I hope to bring that justice to men."
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The angel of freedom walked with Elphinstone through all the museum, pronouncing a gentle judgement on artifacts divine and otherwise. He had far more than a layman's knowledge of history and theology, which is about what one would expect, really. Eventually they came to a Byzantine fresco that had survived the sacking of the city by the Turks in 1453. Heyzel nodded at the question posed to him, agreeing that it had been taken from the walls of the Hagia Sophia, preserved in a Turkish bath for centuries before Western archeologists had purchased it in the 19th century. "When the Turks took the city, they slew great legions of men, women, and children alike. It was all of a piece for warfare in those days." As he looked up at the saint's image on the wall, the angel's face grew shadowed. "They killed the men before this wall, and sold the women and children there into slavery. I've heard it said that such cataclysms were sent to test the faith of the righteous. There must have been better ways..."
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"You take Heaven's burden upon your shoulders. It is not one to be taken lightly." He laid a hand on Elphinstone's shoulder, his grip sure and reassuring. "If you ever need a friend, curator, seek me out at St. Stephen's Church in Lantern Hill. Even in your darkest and most fearful hour, you are not alone in your struggle. All righteous men battle for justice in their own way. And in some places, particularly in this city, they battle exceedingly well."
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Freedom Angel's own sword was in his hand in a moment, the blade glowing with the pure, white light of truth and justice. The Sword of Mercy glowed a little brighter in the mannequin's hand, bringing a smile to the angel's face as his blade faded away. "Yes. Yes, this is the real sword." He turned and looked at Elphinstone, his face serious. "The blade was empowered by the agents of the Creator, Mr. Elphinstone, in their efforts to build a better world in His image. The wielder of the blade must be a man of true heart and uncommon valor. Whatever the sinful temptations of the world, whatever wrongs his society might tell him are right, he must be willing to battle for truth, justice, and mercy."
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The angel focused his eyes on the curator for a moment, steepling his long fingers before the bridge of his nose. "The Sword was blessed by the Angel of Mercy," he confirmed. "So that the one who wielded it could strike true, but strike with a clean heart. Violence is not a sin, Mr. Elphinstone, it's the correct use of violence that makes a sinner or a saint. And the correct use is, as with anything else...with mercy." He caught the lie in the man's words and looked disappointed. "Let's look together, shall we?" he asked gently. "I can think of no one better to do the job than you."
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"Yes," said Freedom Angel calmly. "You've shown particular wisdom in avoiding any artifacts that are the product of the Adversary." Despite his bulky wings, he easily took a seat as he said, "The Sword of Mercy is a divine artifact, blessed by Heaven. One of my predecessors had a role in its creation. I need to make sure your museum is giving it the respect it deserves."
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Those deep brown eyes regarded Elphinstone for a moment before nodding. "Yes, let us do so." He followed the other man discreetly, or as discreetly as a man with arching white wings and in ancient armor could be. "You have a lovely museum," Heyzel said with simple honesty. "I am impressed that mortal men and women could hold so many artifacts of power without danger from within...or without."
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"Yes, hello," said the angel, glowing with a powerful, almost supernatural presence. In Romanesque armor with a spatha strapped to his back, he vaguely resembled certain late Western Imperial depictions of angels, though here and in living color. "My name is Heyzel. I'm told you are one of the most skilled antiquarians in the city. I need to see the Sword of Mercy." Though polite, it was a statement, not a question.
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There you go.
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Heyzel was nothing if not straightforward: the angelic ambassador was a man simply incapable of deception. Still, his knowledge of the modern world was still somewhat scanty. When he wanted to make an appointment with the curator of the Hunter Museum of Natural History, he simply flew there. Descending out of the sky on a glorious summer's day, the winged warrior of the skies landed neatly on the museum's front steps amid the shocked exclamation of visitors. His theologically-inspired appearance was unusual, even in Freedom City, and after all the museum attracted visitors from out of town who weren't used to men flying down from the skies. Much less angels. He walked right through the glass doors, folding his wings behind him against the heavy crowd in the lobby, and headed straight for a security guard. "Hello. My name is Heyzel, the Freedom Angel. I wish to speak to the curator in charge of the Sword of Mercy."
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There's a DC 24 Will save vs. Mind Control for you. The command is "Close your eyes and come to me."
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The playful expression dropped off Marionette's face. "I'm tired of talk." She reached out with her mind instead, lashing out against Dynamo's psyche and reeling the hero in like a marlin on a line. "Jaci, darling, when he gets close enough, break his legs for me, will you? There's still time to use him later."
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"Ooh, my head..." Inside the brig, Spellbound sat up, rubbing the knot on her head that Wander's blow had left. "Prison, eh?" Waggling her fingers, she made gestures in the air, only to hiss in frustration when nothing happened. "Curses! Trapped behind wards so thick that even my mighty powers cannot blast free!" She shook her fist at the air. "Curse you, Raven and Wander! When Geckoman finds me, he'll destroy you all!" Chris' punch hurt more than Wander had expected, though it still didn't do any real damage. When she grappled with him, the skin on his wrist was oddly cool and slick. Meanwhile, all of Chris' senses seemed especially sharpened aboard Hell-Ion's ship, letting him clearly hear, see, and smell _everything._ It was an odd sensation, especially with the strange heaviness in his limbs as Wander released him.