Avenger Assembled

Avenger opened the window, gazing up at Arrowhawk with flat, implacable eyes behind his mask. I have no idea who this is. Crap. He cocked his head, looking back at the others. "Did one of you drop the note? Though Avenger didn't sound at all pleased about that, he looked up at Arrowhawk anyway. "Can't complain. Be hypocritical. Come in."

Normally I'd be inclined to let Wesley make the check, but since Arrowhawk's on the ledge, it's better to move on with the action. :D

I need a Notice check from everyone. I won't try it myself, since I can't make it. :D

Having stopped Wells' torture, Avenger had few reservations about emptying his wallet. I'll donate this to that nice homeless shelter guy by the mall. And buy myself that new DVD.With the money his, he stopped to look over the strips of paper, studying them with an odd light in his blue eyes.

"He's gone." Avenger looked down at his hands, irritation burning in his ragged voice. "Probably for the best. Didn't want to fight a god." He flexed his gloved hands, shooting a glare over at a zombie pianist. "Suggest we burn the room. Destroy the drugs. The dead. Call the fire department."

Through the link she'd established with him, Jack provided a few details to make the experience more convincing; the feel of soft flesh giving way before claws and teeth, the sharp smell of blood in the air to a vampire's senses, the orgasmically sweet way it tasted sliding down the throats of the dead. When the deed was done and Dave was licking imaginary blood off his lips, Jack told him with a wicked smile, "Go home, Dave. Tell Melinda what we did. I'll finish up here." Dave nodded at that, a satisfied look in his eye, and parted ways with Jack, licking his hands and face clean before heading back and away from the party. Alone in the alley, or so it appeared to anyone else, Jack stood by himself, looking down at hands still tainted with traces of Scarab-blood. What the hell; he licked a few times, wincing at the taste.

"Worry about yourself, boy. You have more enemies than you know." Samedi fixed his gaze directly on Nightrival, boring directly into the man's soul, before darkness poured from him and down over his body. Despite Avenger's best efforts to hold onto Samedi, the god of death and darkness disappeared in a curl of shadow, leaving behind a zombie band still tooting away, lots and lots of drugs, and a room full of unconscious thugs.

When the deed was done and Elena was concealed, Jack neatly took out his cell phone and dialed Dave's number. "Dave. Gonna do the deed. Come down here." He spoke in English for Elena's benefit, pitching his voice loud enough for her to hear. Dave, no dummy, didn't respond. Both men hung up, Jack neatly placing his cellphone back into his pocket. He had blood on his hands, but he was experienced at dealing with that. A few minutes later, the kitchen doors opened, and the furtive figure of Dave emerged. His mind was surprisingly strong, but no match for Scarab's mental powers.

Oh yeah, I forgot to roll to Search. Meh, I'll just say Jack failed the check.

Hey quote, the more I think about it, I don't really have anything interesting for this thread. Sorry to bail on you, but better to let you know now than keep jerking yer chain. :(

"Will carry him in the sewers." Avenger gathered up boy and mutilated costume both, nearly disappearing into the shadows before he added, "Or Scarab could fly us. Suggest we meet back here in the morning. Must eat. Must sleep."

Sixtus gave Belphegor a look that was hard to read. There was decidedly something odd about the cultist, a look in her eyes and in the way she carried herself, a fragile mortal on the edge of something new. "I didn't meet them. But the ones I met showed me things." She blinked, hard. "There is death beyond death. Things that lie beyond the edge of entropy." Her fingers tightened around the staff in her hand. "You enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. Why?" A few moments after Belphegor replied, Rochambeau stepped into the dining room. Dressed now in magnificent black robes emblazoned with two blood-red hands on his massive sleeves, the cult leader was a figure of great dignity and arcane power. "We're ready for the ceremony. Will you join us, Bride and Groom?"

OK, hmm. Well, rather than fool around with it, I'll just drop the power feat for now.

In the fancy streets of North Bay, Scarab saw a dark star. Not her friend, but a malevolently glowing form of necromantic energy that shone to her mind's eye to a near-blinding black light. Focusing her perceptions, she saw a woman's form standing in the middle of a misty field of psychic energy. The energy that cut through the obscuring field came from a mystic artifact, a staff glowing with obscene supernatural power, and was shaped to match the form of its wielder. Scarab was easily able to recognize the outline of Sister Sixtus.

Hmm. Why put in unnecessary text and space? Avenger's Toughness all fits in one line this way.

Better you don't know. The thought was a red-edged one. Even burning, painful blood was still blood, and there certainly was a lot of it scattered around right now. He tried to tell himself that it was just red-hot sauce, but the memories of old hungers didn't help matters nearly as much as he might have hoped. When it was done, when Elena's blood was all over the floor, Jack took a step back. "What a terrible party," he said distinctly. "All right. All right, I'll get Dave down here. You...make yourself scarce."

Yes, Jack agreed. Part of him wanted to ask Elena if she really thought he had no idea how to bleed someone. Or something. But he didn't like those memories, especially not in the presence of his friend who had trusted him. They are a gesture of trust. Whatever arguments we've had, I know you've always... He slashed her on the arm, a finger-claw cutting a long slash along Elena's left arm from wrist to elbow, blood pooling down her arm. ...trusted me. He waited a moment for Elena to compose herself, almost licking the back of his hand before he remembered the nasty taste of Elena's blood.

Spending that fancy new HP on the Precise power feat for Jack's Strike.

I would like to rework Avenger's powers slightly this month, having had some time to test them out in play. Powers: [3 pp, see below] Protection 8 (Impervious) [impervious not vs. blessed/silver/magic] [this costs 12 pp with the flawed extra, and requires 2 pp with the points already there] Drain Con 4 [Requires Grapple] [this costs 2 pp with the flaw, and costs 1 pp with the points already there] Skills: [1 pp] 1 rank of Stealth to make it 16 (+21) 3 ranks of Intimidate to make it 13 (+15) Feats: [1 pp] Stunning Attack

"Weaker than it looks," growled Avenger as he pulled away the sliced-up remains of the suit. "Suggest we take it with. Leave it in his room. As an omen. Not useable now." When the suit was in pieces, several pieces, Avenger neatly replaced the knife. "Deed is done. Replace him, then find Fox?"

"Good. Have a team. Have pinpointed the demon and cult to this block. Suggest we fight them now at our earliest opportunity. Avenger stood up, all muscular energy and action, rolling his shoulders and flexing his gloved hands. "Wesley. Heard of your abilities. Can you scan? Also, Scarab. If they have not screened against it."

I haven't needed to shave in three years. When he was very, very sure that no one was watching, Jack extended his hand, the fingers there lengthening and sharpening out into long, malevolent claws. The transformation of his right hand looked like something from a cheap 80s horror movie, but was driven by a wicked necromancy entirely real. I can do this precisely if you hold still. Are you ready?

His face expressionless, Jack donned his masks again. "Yes. Will deal with the suit." He disappeared from view for a few moments, returning with a a carving knife from the kitchen. With calm, methodical efficiency, he proceeded to cut Vulture entirely out of his suit, pulling hard enough to cut the material while he avoided ostentatiously bending the knife in his hand. It was a little unsettling to find himself miming out the act of cutting something off in this house of horrors, but what could you do? "Suggest we scout out Fox first. Don't want to be caught again."

Neeeeerrrrrddddssssss!!!! :P

Meanwhile.... The next day was much of a sameness with Belphegor, with the exception of his ladies eventually falling away from him to attend to other things. It was after lunch by the time he left the company of the ladies, both the first and second crew. He had special company now, though, Rochambeau having been joined by a slightly battered woman carrying a massive magical staff. Sister Sixtus, as she was introduced to Belphegor, didn't seem interested in his reindeer games. Indeed, she didn't even seem to pay much attention to her putative cult leader, paying closer attention to the magnificent golden staff that she seemed quite enraptured by. With a suspicious glance Sixtus' way, Rochambeau invited Belphegor to join them for the finest liquor from their wine cellar. "Tonight, just after sundown, we will perform the ritual," said Rochambeau proudly, "we shall perform the sacrifice of Orloff and summon unto us the Red King." He was called away briefly at that juncture, temporarily leaving Belphegor alone with Sixtus in what had been the dining room of the big house. Faintly charred by soot and with an odd look in her eye, Sixtus looked from the staff to Belphegor. "I have been places tonight. And seen things. Have you seen the fourth level of the Hungry Dead? The staff has taken me there, and I have spoken to the Death Lords."