Avenger Assembled

"Hello." The voice rang through the half-lit room in an eerie, chilling monotone, even Zealot's supernatural vision not cutting through the chilling darkness at the edges of the room, away from the bright light where he and Phantom were suspended in their tableau of torture. The voice was a choking cough, a malevolent growl that spoke of death and pain. "Did your mother dress you like that, little boy?" Behind Zealot a figure dressed in black leather appeared as if from nothing, his white hockey mask burnished bright and gleaming in the light as he emerged into it, his blue eyes reflecting death itself. He moved implacably fast for Zealot, big leather-clad hands reaching out, and struck directly for Zealot's holy scourge!

Blowing the HP from my "rescue my girlfriend" complication on Ultimate Stealth to enter the warehouse and reconnoiter. It's your pad, Evi, lemme know what I see in the OOC. :)

It was raining when Avenger reached the streets of Port Regal, but he stayed dry as he passed through the rooftops on smoke and fog. He was faster this way and just as observant, the murderous rage he'd felt earlier cooled to something cool and unsympathetic. He'd find the man who'd taken Phantom, the mad zealot who'd assaulted and imprisoned her. She was alive. He would allow no other possibility. No one else was going to die on his watch. No one. Not even this Zealot. But there were ways of dealing with a man that left him alive. Oh yes. He was following up on a lead uncovered by one of the undead community's contacts in Freedom City's religious community, a low-level employee at a religious supply company who preferred the unholy in his private life to match the holy in his professional line of work. Mass-marketed religious items were a common thing these days, and finding out who was buying them in large quantities was an excellent way of tracking people in the city with an unnatural interest in religion. And track one he had, all the way to Port Regal where what looked like an abandoned warehouse beckoned to him. Now was the hour.

Avenger's edits: Attack Focus (Melee) (1) Protection (3) Skills: (1 point) +1 rank of Stealth (to a total of 18 ranks) +3 Intimidate (to a total of 16 ranks) Done by Sandman XI Edge's edits A couple of changes here: Swapping out Edge's Notice for Diplomacy Diplomacy 8 (+12) Swapping out Edge's Stealth for Notice Notice 4 (+6) Adding the Subtle power feat to his Blast array Expenditures: Protection 2 with the Luck descriptor Inspire +2 (to a total of 5) Improved Initiative (to a total of +6) Done by Sandman XI

Eight year old characters are a squick for many of our players. Stick with characters 13 and over. 150-point characters with 123 points in powers are a squick for many of our staff members. (Particularly when you've not used the template) I strongly encourage you to revise this character in a way that facilitates roleplaying opportunities and follows the guidelines for our site.

Nah, I think I'm done with this one. =)

Jack will take 10 on the relevant Diplomacy checks to use his Benefit, Connected, and Contacts. I'll wait for that Gather Info post before I go further. Where did you visualize Zealot's temporary lair as being, Evi?

Vampires have connections everywhere. This isn't something most people really like to dwell on, particularly in Freedom City. Certainly Freedom City isn't nearly as friendly for vampires as New Orleans or Bucharest, where Katrina and the end of Communism have given the undead great power. But the vampires of Freedom City are careful in their behavior, either inspired by the heroes who fly overhead by night or simply ever-mindful of X-Ray eyes in the dark. They don't move the pieces on the chessboard, but they see the players in the game. All the games. Jack called those vampires first upon leaving Taylor's apartment, speaking to those elders whose business it was to keep an eye out on the city for known vampire hunters and their whereabouts. He had a good description in his mind to give them, the words and actions of a petty thug in a holy man's garb, and as the hours went by they were able to tell him more. He traveled all over the city at the beginning of that night, trading favors for names and information. He dined on blood at the home of his old friend Mr. Pitt, the ill elder having contacts enough to steer him towards names, faces, and even better, places.

Some thoughts: Does anyone object to fiating the below as Zealot's temporary headquarters? It's basically Sanctum Sanctorum from the corebook, plus Deathtraps and a Torture Chamber. (Both of which are explicated in Agents of Freedom, but are mostly self-explanatory). Eviscerus, give me a Gather Info check. Your DC is 28.

Across town, some hours later, Jack walked up to Taylor's apartment with a barely-concealed look of worry on his face. It had been a bad day, one of the worst. Those damnable Taylorites had tried moving into Greenbank again, and he'd needed to call on some heavy favors to bring in the equipment and personnel to chase them out. He'd never really appreciated Melinda as a talented administrator and diplomat, but the work of mastering the vampires of Freedom City (those who bothered to acknowledge his authority, anyway) was turning out to be almost shockingly difficult. But he'd kept it going, surviving assassination attempts and keeping his eyes open, and even had time to slip back into his mask for the first time in a good long while. Taylor not answering her cell phone had worried him, though, so as soon as sunset had temporarily freed him from his labors he'd gone straight to her place to check it out. He knocked, as was polite, but when she didn't answer the door the lock was nothing to him. He took the scene in at a glance, fear in his voice as he ran for her bedroom. Blood. So much blood. He looked around, his eyes shifting red. Why didn't they hear anything? But he knew too well how easily apartment dwellers could tune out strange noises and sounds from the people next door. That was one lesson vampires knew only too well. Though he recognized the scent, Jack dropped to his knees and put his fingers in the blood still pooling on the bed. Still wet? What could do this? He didn't know, but there was one way to find out. Jack lowered his face to the bed and began to taste. And when he did, all sorts of fascinating things flowed into his mind. He couldn't see what had happened before Taylor's blood had spilled, but he could taste everything that had happened after. I see you. The fear and images in the blood poured through his mind, the mental disciplines of the undead carrying him into the past. He's a teleporter. Holy symbols. Magic whip. He tasted Taylor's fear in his mind. This is the end. This is the night where I find you.

APPROVED

Hmm. I guess you could make an immunity like that work dynamically. 8-) OK, just add your tactical vest and such to your Toughness save (put in where you get the "other") and I think you're good to go. Last chance to find a flaw that won't make people beat on you all the time. :)

Oh lordy loo, whatever could the Refs be doing...on the first of the month. ;)

Avenger: News post Delivery at Pier 18 Massive Explosion Genderswitch The New Man Explanation Explanation II The One, The Only A Desperate Affair Day of My Daughter's Debut Clash Blood and Thunder Getting the Goods Taking Stock Standing Up Checkmate GM: Trial Journey Creative Morning (and posting) Daikaiju Visit Team Science! A Man of Substance Wandering Edge (and posting) Caged Bird Edge: Star-Crossed Sweet Sixteen First Impressions Date Day Three Hour Tour Colors Out of Space Birthday

DC 26 Sense Motive if you really wanna see how ticked off Jack is.

"Let's," Jack agreed with a ready smile. I wonder if we're going to have to kill him. The thought made Jack nauseous. Difficult, too...and killing is wrong! Even annoyed, he was basically aware of that fact as well as anyone else. No killing. That's not a way to solve your problems, even your problems in the community. Just leave him alone and...figure something out. "But I hope you have plans to do more than just look tonight."

Move Action Bluff: DC 21 not to be flat-footed Hope he is flat-footed.

"Me again." Avenger was now actually behind the demon, bravely interposing himself between the hellspawn and the mouth of Hell itself. "Tell your friends I'm coming for them." With a sudden scream of rage, he vaulted into the air and brought the club down on the demon's head again, his eyes blazing with murderous rage.

"No, I think Ace and I are done measuring our respective manhoods," said Jack with a grin. "Ace, I think you'll find that particular game is best played solitaire. C'mon, Taylor, let's go see what the pretty people are doing." Ace was good; Ace was far, far better than any man had any right to be. But Jack played this particular game with monsters. Still, when he met Ace's eyes, it was hard not to keep the murder out of them. Jack was a man used to restraining that particular impulse, but he certainly wasn't immune to it.

We seem to have skipped Ronin. Just go ahead and post now, War.

Attacking as a standard action. That's a DC 25 Toughness save. HPing a surge. That's another DC 25 Toughness save. And then disappearing again before the demon can retaliate with a DC 32 Notice check.

"I have come for you." Avenger had disappeared from Phantom's side as the demon emerged, and now appeared flanking the hellspawn, putting the monster between himself and Taylor. "Now is the hour." He smashed the golf club he'd discarded earlier into the demon's skull, a small spray of fluid falling across his mask. It was a solid hit, and he did it again, black and white rage terrifyingly silent in the brightly lit golf course.

Avenger:21

Jack Faretti is a dead man. Nothing that follows will make sense if Ace does not understand that simple point: Jack Faretti, an FCU dropout from suburban Adamsburg, died of a massive Max overdose nearly four years ago. By all accounts he was a contemptible nothing of a man, a drug addict and sometime dealer who ran with a crowd of dropouts and college punks on the Goth scene. His mother died of a massive heart attack shortly thereafter, his father killed himself a year later. It would be an obvious pseudonym if Ace hadn't managed to get a picture of a very familiar-looking body. Jack Faretti the under the table businessman has his finger in sticky pies all over the city, many of them loosely affiliated with organized crime. He recently got quite wealthy, quite fast, and some powerful, dangerous, mysterious people have been seen taking orders from him. He has ties in medicine, in business, in crime and justice, and in Freedom City's very active club scene. No crimes bear his name, but there are a lot of things out there the law hasn't bothered to reach yet. There's actually substantially less information here than Ace might have expected to be able to find, a downright disturbing lack of connections to his usual social network. Who, or what, doesn't talk to Ace Danger? (Have an HP for the GM Fiat there, Ace. Jack doesn't know people have been looking into him, and I'll say any vampires who do know choose to keep their cards close to the vest. Like they do.)

Jack took the costume easily from Taylor when she handed it to him, slipping away into the darkness to change as the universe itself warped and shifted in front of them. He was back quickly, having slipped into Avenger's costume and persona like a hand into a glove. "Suggest we hit it hard. Break it now when it's in front of the portal. Do it where the others watching can see."