Avenger Assembled

Sigh That's still a 14 for both with my field up; still a failure. I do spend my HP from my Responsibility legacy to help out Psyche. (Forcing a reroll) A Lucas doesn't let the ladies keep him from doing the right thing!

Gosh, look at the date! Er... Avenger Danger Mansion Invasion: 6 posts Riverside Invasion: 5 posts Blackjack: 3 posts Edge Gate Invasion: 4 posts Giving Thanks: 6 posts Dust: 2 posts

I spend the HP from my leadership complication to make the mouth-demon reroll that REF save.

Mark fell into a fugue of sex and lust, sinously writhing bodies sucking at his soul as surely as if they'd sunk their talons into his flesh. At the sound of Erin's shout, though, Edge shook himself all over, pulling his mind out of the filthy gutter where it had fallen. This is bad! What would the Centurion do? It took him only a minute to remember. "I wish you'd stop doing that!" he shouted out loud, and suddenly the air around him erupted. A great spontaneous explosion erupted from the still-standing lightpoles overhead, cascades of artificial lightning sheeting down on every demon within two hundred feet of Mark, a great white arc even rising up to kiss James, the eruption of Mark's power far greater than any he'd ever shown before.

Jack kissed Taylor back, watching as she disappeared into the thick of the fighting. "I love you too, Taylor," he murmured softly. And with that he was a monster again, an easy, terrible transformation that he'd tried so hard to avoid for so long. A vampire is ultimately a predator, a killing machine that gains power from the blood of others. And so Jack was in that last terrible fight, falling among the demons like a hyena among lions, ripping and tearing at their vulnerable parts, pulling them down and ripping open their throats, hissing madly as he drank their foul blood, his sheer presence startling enough to focus the horde around him on the invisible predator that gave bad deaths to all their number without so much as showing himself for a fight. This was a battle for survival. For _all_ of them.

(17:13:14) ChatBot: AvengerAssembled rolls 2d20 and gets 9,2. Sigh.

Confronted with a more organized enemy, Jack changed his tactics to match. He disappeared from view, focusing on his prey, and concentrated on those demons who seemed to be giving orders to the others. It was those he targeted as he moved amongst the demons, cutting and tearing, an invisible force that pulled and ripped and tore and feasted on the blood of the damned.

"For family and friends," said Mark with a little shrug. "I mean, we've been to Hell and back together, that's got to make us family, right?" He grinned. "Besides, we're teammates, my folks are used to me bringing folks home. And as for the invasion, don't worry, my folks were fine with that. My dad gave me my Christmas present early; he said it was my coming-of-age gift for surviving my first extra-dimensional incursion. Which also means I can pick you up here and take you there, even if I'm not supposed to tell anyone else about the E-s-c-o-r-t till after Christmas."

"You're welcome," said Mark, glad he'd put a smile on the face of his sometimes dour friend. "I like to take care of my friends. And I thought after this month, we all deserved something special." Sitting down opposite her, he asked, "Hey, there's something else I wanted to ask you. How would you like to come over to my family's place for Thanksgiving?"

"Sure, go ahead," said Mark with a smile. "Like I said, it's way late." Inside the box, Erin found a fluffy knit pillow emblazoned with a cheerful smiling sun. Holding the pillow to her face, she could feel the fabric inside crinkle, and smell roses and lemon inside. "It's an herbal pillow," commented Mark, "it's supposed to help you relax. A friend of my mom knits them. If you don't like the stuff inside, the back opens up and you can put in a bag of whatever you want."

"Oh, you're a sweet boy, aren't you?" Mark petted the kitty's head for a little bit, still talking to Erin. "Well, er, this is actually why I came over. Two reasons, anyway." He smiled and handed her the package, a bulky-but-light paper box wrapped in cheerful Freedom City-themed wrapping paper. "I'm sorry this is so late, Erin, but happy birthday. I meant to get this for you before everything went crazy. Hopefully your birthday kitty was present enough in the meantime."

"Hi, Erin," said Mark with a smile, hefting the box in his hands. "I was looking for you, actually, and...oh, you've got a kitty! Hello, kitty!" Mark liked animals, especially cute ones, almost as much as he liked people. He smiled at the cat, kneeling down and reaching out to see if the cat liked petting. "I didn't hear about this. Where did he come from?"

Holiday madness.

Between one thing and another, it was a very busy November for every Claremont student. It wasn't until the third week of November that Mark Lucas finally made it out shopping with his mother, buying a present for a friend who'd had an especially hard time of it that November. He headed for Erin's room on the evening of the 21st, taking advantage of the warm Saturday, a big box under his arm that hardly smelled of the herb-stuffed and scented pillow he'd bought in the city's art district. It had the promise of a good day...or so he hoped, anyway. Between one thing and another, things had been...unsettling for the scion of the house of Lucas. Erin, despite everything, was one person who he could count on to be herself.

As a man keenly aware of appearances, Jack quickly acted to change the subject. "Hey, everybody!" When Jack shouted, the air popped, the sheer force of personality that he kept bottled up around humans when he wasn't wearing the mask suddenly boiling out. "My name is Jack. Some of you know me as Avenger. This is my city! If you want to join me in keeping it free of demons and other unsavory elements, listen up!" Drawing on his combat experience from the Knights, as well as his fairly extensive experience in ripping dangerous supernatural entities apart to bear, Jack began issuing orders. If people didn't listen, well...he couldn't exactly make them do it. But he had to do something, and if it kept them from hassling Phantom, more power to them. "Flying people, I want you in the air! Hit anybody who breaks through that line of trees Fleur de Joie gave us; don't give them time to form up for a charge! Anyone with any kind of reach, get behind the front line and reach past their heads. You're our spearmen in this. Atlas, get yourself a bat. I think Fleur de Joie's kindly provided us with a few hundred. Marksmen; stealthy types, kill their commanders. If you've got something that can hit a large area, put yourself in the front line: same if you're a hand-to-hand fighter. I want them running on the backs of their own dead by the second wave. And beyond all that..." He trailed off for a moment, then shouted, "This is FREEDOM CITY! This is the Centurion's city! This is August Roman's city! We can beat anybody, anytime, anywhere if we work together. Let's show them how heroes fight!"

(23:51:40) Cyroa: oh. yeah (23:51:53) ChatBot: AvengerAssembled rolls 1d20 and gets 13. --- A total of 19, below 21. While I've still got a couple of HP from my complications and one from Luck, I think I'll be a team player and let Edge suck up a failed save for once. Cy, do your worst! :kaboom:

Jack said something else. "I love you." He smiled at her, because he didn't know if he'd be able to say the words again, because he didn't know if he'd be able to smile again. "Let's go kill some demons." He thought, fast, then turned to Atlas. "Atlas. Break the street. Make the non-fliers stack up in a hole in front of us or slow down the others as they come. I'll take point at the edge of the ravine. Dead Head, that shovel gives you reach, I want you in the back stabbing over my shoulder. Phantom, the sky is yours. As for me, I'm going to rip the throats out of their friends and make them watch."

When she finished, Jack applauded the birthday girl with a cheerful whistle. When she came down to join them, Jack leaned in and kissed Taylor on the lips. "That was great, Taylor," he told her warmly. "Though I have to admit, I don't have any dimes." His arm easily around her, he turned to the others. There, who says I'm not a perfectly human being who isn't thinking about drinking my girlfriend's blood tonight...ah, damn. "Who will take the challenge?"

Avenger gave Phantom a grateful smile as she wiped the blood from his face, discreetly wiping his filthy hands on his clothes before putting his hand on her shoulder as they faced the whirlwind together. "Take anything you need from me," he suggested softly. "Power it with necromancy, anything...anything that'll help save those people. I've seen too much death today already."

Fixed

Players Name: Davis Power Level: 11 (165/174pp) Trade-Offs: None Unspent PP: 9 Characters Name: The Freedom Angel Alternate Identity: Heyzel Height: 5'10" Weight: 180 lbs Hair: Black Eyes: Brown Description: Heyzel appears to be a young man of Middle Eastern features with a strong Roman nose, glossy black hair, and with a strong, muscular build. He goes into battle in Romanesque armor consisting of a red leather skirt and sandals, white round shield emblazoned with a red Florian cross, iron breastplate, and white undertunic and garments. He is armed with a spatha, three feet of steel crafted by holy craftsmen, burning with a perpetual white flame of truth. The sword cannot be taken from him, and he can at will banish it to have his hands free. The blade itself is engraved with a representation of the chi rho, the personal symbol of the Emperor Constantine the Great. Similarly, his shield is a creation of his divine will, not a material object, and can be summoned or dismissed automatically. His most notable features are of course his large wings covered in thick white fluffy feathers, the fully functional appendages with a span of twelve feet when fully stretched out. Strong and flexible, his wings can easily support him in flight as easily as he can fold them back underneath his clothes to be nearly invisible. His flight is powered by both his wings and his innately divine nature: though his wings aren't large enough to support his own solidly-built frame on their own, he does need to actually flap them to glide and fly. History: Somewhere, far away from here, there are beautiful places where good people go to pass into a joyful eternity. As there are infinite souls, there are infinite such planes, but the most famous of course is Heaven: the joyful place where those who have loved truly and kept their faith alive in darkest times are reunited with each other amidst the shining glory of the divine. It is a place of safety and magnificent wonders, a place where the joys of the world are lived forever more. There children play happily in a beautiful pond, here men and women work together to build communities of love and harmony, where no one ever gets sick and no one is ever claimed by age. The guardians of this place are the Angeloi, the shepherds and guardians who watch over the souls as they pass into forever. They have kept their watch since the beginning of the first millennium CE. Many of them were once blessed souls themselves, imbued with the power of angels for their goodness and mercy, bearing children together to carry on their divinely appointed mission. Heyzel was born from such a union centuries ago as we count it, his parents chosen by the Archangel Gavriel to carry forth the legacy of the Angeloi. For much of his long life, Heyzel was like many of his brethren, raised in love, taught faith, justice, and compassion by those who loved him most. Like many children of the angels, Heyzel loved to watch the other worlds of the Cosmic Coil from the very edge of their plain. Full of youthful passion and enthusiasm, he wanted nothing more than to go below and fight for justice among the people of Earth. But such was not the place of the Angeloi, not anymore. The other young angels learned to direct their energies elsewhere, everything from acting as shepherds and watchers of the pure souls of Heaven to defending their realm against the machinations of the Dark Lords who coveted their great power. His mother Jeannel was one of these, a soldier guarding the very edges of Heaven against the machinations of the Adversary. From her he learned the glories of divine battle and just war, the thrill of battling in a righteous cause. Jeannel had been an adventurer on Earth when she'd been younger, a martyr of faith on Earth who had become a guardian of women and the oppressed after passing into the hands of the Angeloi, and her stories about the exciting, strange people down below filled Heyzel with curiosity and wonder. But Jeannel was committed to her new job now, acting as a defender rather than adventurer, and urged her son to follow in her footsteps. His father too had once been an adventurer on Earth, and in fact had been the angel who'd rescued his mother from her pyre. But now they were settled down, as the other angels were, to roles as defenders rather than crusaders. It was only as Heyzel grew a little older that finally he learned the secret of the Angeloi, the great trust they'd been given and the fear that tugged at each and every pure soul. The truth was that the Logos, the Divine Word, had not been heard in Heaven for centuries. Gavriel had spoken for the Word as best he could, but the Angeloi had not carried a direct connection to the Divine since the year 535 of the Common Era. None of the Angeloi knew why the Divine had departed, only that it had. What did it mean that the Creator had abandoned his creation, appearing only in signs and miracles, never speaking to the Faithful? It was a mystery, and one that the young angel vowed to solve. Winning a personal audience with Gavriel, Heyzel persuaded the Archangel to dispatch him as an ambassador to the world below, a champion of righteousness and symbol of the justice and goodness of Heaven, who would at the same time seek out allies in the world below to tease out what had befallen the Almighty. It was a powerful burden to bear, but with the Sword of Truth and Shield of Faith in hand, Heyzel was ready to adventure in the world below. Personality & Motivation: Heyzel is a pious, trusting soul who believes in the innate goodness of all sentient beings. He never lies, never swears, and rarely shows anger. He's still a little clueless about the ways and means of normal people, and sometimes has been left thoroughly befuddled by something as simple as a baseball game or the social dimensions of 21st-century American romance. He is easy to underestimate. Of course, Heyzel is also a centuries-old warrior trained to battle living embodiments of entropy and sin at the end of time itself. He is completely without fear, either of physical harm or social embarrassment. Despite his innately good nature, he actually does feel many of the same impulses as normal men do, he's simply better at controlling them. In particular, he feels anger at sinners and desire for beautiful women, urges that grow only more powerful on Earth's plane. It is a difficult balance. He speaks English (and all other languages perfectly), but when suitably wroth will fall back on a dialect closer to an odd form of Early Modern or 'Shakespearean' English similar to that of the King James Bible. (i.e. "Thou wouldst pull down the pillars of the Earth to further your mad schemes? I say thee nay!") Powers & Tactics: Heyzel (named for a powerful archangel who taught his father unarmed combat) prefers to talk rather than fight, using his strong presence and harmonious nature to defuse tense situations. When forced into combat, he attacks from the air, looking to protect innocents nearby or strike quickly at his most dangerous opponents. The only opponents he will not negotiate with are demons and irredeemably evil creatures: those monsters he attacks swiftly and without mercy. Complications: Enemy (evil demons, infernalists, evil undead) Mistaken Identity (A good number of people mistake Heyzel for a crazy mutant) Legacy (Heyzel's mother is a famous figure from world history) Obsession (Mission) Responsibility (protect the innocent, Heaven's ambassador, St. Stephens and Lantern Hill, family) Reputation (is an angel) Rivalry (demonically-powered or undead heroes; polytheistic pantheon) Secret (Where's the Almighty?) Stats: 14+0+10+2+10+10 = 46pp STR: 24 (+7) DEX: 10 (+0) CON: 20 (+5) INT: 12 (+1) WIS: 20 (+5) CHA: 20 (+5) Combat: 10+10 = 20pp Attack: +5 (+6 melee, +10 Flaming Sword) Grapple: +13 Defense: +10 (+2 flat-footed) Knockback: -5 Initiative: +4 Saves: 5+5+5 = 15pp Toughness: +10 (+5 Con, +5 Protection) Fortitude: +10 (+5 Con, +5) Reflex: +5 (+0 Dex, +5) Will: +10 (+5 Wis, +5) Skills: 72r = 18pp Diplomacy 16 (+21)* Intimidate 13 (+18)* Knowledge: Arcane Lore 4 (+5) Knowledge: History 4 (+5) Knowledge: Theology and Philosophy 14 (+15) Notice 10 (+15)* Perform (Singing) 1 (+6) Sense Motive 10 (+15)* (*=Skill Mastery) Feats: 13pp Attack Focus (melee) 1 Dodge Focus 1 Fearless Improved Initiative Interpose Luck 3 Power Attack Skill Mastery (Diplomacy, Intimidate, Notice, Sense Motive) Takedown Attack Ultimate Effort (Diplomacy) Uncanny Dodge (Auditory) Powers: 6+5+6+2+2+6+2+5+4+15 = 53pp Comprehend 3 (Tongue of Babel/holy) (Languages 3 [speak Any, Speak Any/All Simultaneously, Understand Any/All Simultaneously]) (6 pp) Flight 3 (50 MPH; Drawback: Wings) (Angelic Wings/holy) (5 pp) Immunity 6 (Divine Stamina/holy) (aging, disease, poison, starvation and thirst, suffocation) (6 pp) Immunity 2 (Angelic Wisdom) (Bluff checks) (2 pp) Light Control 2 (10ft radius, Flaws: Range [Touch]) (2 pp) Protection 6 (Divine Armor/holy) (6 pp) Regeneration 1 (Angelic Body/holy) (Resurrection 1/week) (PF: Regrowth) (2 pp) Shield 5 (Shield of Faith/holy) (5 pp) Super-Senses 4 (Angel Eyes/holy; Detect Infernal [Extras], Hellfire Awareness) [4] Divine Power 5 (10PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power 5) (15 pp) Drawbacks: 0+0+0 = 0pp DC Block: Unarmed --- 21/Toughness --- Bruised, Staged Flaming Sword -- 25/Toughness --- Bruised/Injured, Staged Costs: Abilities (46) + Combat (20) + Saves (15) + Skills (18) + Feats (13) + Powers (53) - Drawbacks (00) = 165/174pp

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"Okkay. May be hard to watch..." He faded from view at that, disappearing from the sight of everyone there. Jack concentrated, digging his hands into fists as he pushed out at the fouled blood inside him. It didn't come out his mouth; instead it leaked out his pores. When he was coated in demon blood as if he'd bathed in it, he reappeared on the other side of Taylor. He looked shockingly disreputable, but like a man who'd bathed in blood instead of a monster who'd drunk it. "I'm ready."

Jack didn't hesitate a moment. He reached out and shook Archeville's hand firmly, his grip strong before he sat back down next to Taylor. "Good to see you again, Viktor," he said politely. There, who was to say how he felt at that moment, surrounded by people who could kill him without thinking about it, who maybe had ever reason to do so? He put his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, relaxing in the moment. "Knock 'em dead, honey."

It's funny the things you think about when the world's coming to an end. As he tore through the demonic horde, the super-powerful blood in his system charging him up like the devil's own PCP addict, Jack remembered his own death. The sweet agony of Claudia's fangs at his throat. The feeling of cold, permeating his flesh, permeating through every inch of him until it reached his soul. Then the taste of her lips on his, the deathly fire that had poured through him and rocketed him to consciousness again with a bloody, rageful hunger. Is this what it's all been for? My own damnation, and everything else, to stop these demons? He thought of his parents, the people he'd loved who were dead and gone, picturing them waiting for him in a fluffy cloud Heaven. As he stood on the field of his death, it was a very comforting story.