ex3lev3n

Gaining on the ambulance: Speed check 2 (1d20 7=8)

Good! Pissed off Gex is what we need right now!

Also, brief hiatus in Tarantula and Razorwing's chatter as we have no clue what happened to our teammates or the city as of the Danger Mansion-huddle.

Not sure how to handle the situation properly, Razorwing thought for a moment. He was about to bring the conversation back to their encounter with Doc Otaku on the Century Bridge to alleviate Tarantula's growing despair when a humongous demon crashed bodily into the golden field, it's great wings broken and unable to keep itself aloft. It fell to the ground, it's massive form crushing a number of it's smaller kin that laid in wait outside of the protective ward.

"Well, I guess some of us are still out there putting the hurt on these things," he said, hoping he sounded positive to the young woman.

He knew the question wasn't directed at him, but he felt he needed to answer her. "I don't know. But why does anything like this happen? You can believe that it's our lot in life to be thrown headfirst into conflict for the sake of whatever cosmic unbalance that needs correcting," he stopped for a moment and looked Tarantula in the white oval's that represented the eyes of her masked persona, "or not."

He let the gravity of his words sink in for a moment before continuing. "Either way, we're both here and without answers, so lets just roll with the punches and see how far we get."

"Yeah, same story, different setting." He thought again of the Interceptors' foray out into the hellish landscape and the attempts made to clear the civilians away from twisted, burning buildings and other disasters before he made his way to the golden light of hope that shone into the sky of North Bay.

"Did..." he paused for a moment, "did any of your people not make it?"

Realizing how cold and harsh his question must have sounded, he spoke again before Tarantula could reply. "No, nevermind. That's none of my business."

He scanned the grounds beyond the barrier, his focus set on the legion of demonic forms that threatened to send the last patch of natural landscape in Freedom City into a hellish killing field.

Looking up at Tarantula, he asked, "I'm walking the perimeter, checking out our defenses and trying to gauge how long the," he motioned towards the golden energy barrier, "force field, I guess, is going to hold up. Care to join me?"

ok, so the suit uses redistributed kinetic energy for both Strike and Protection, but if the suit is hit with an actual kinetic attack (not bludgeoning, ballistic, etc.) then it overloads it's circuits or something to that effect. I have it statted as:

Device 4 (armored jumpsuit, technology; hard to lose) (Drawback: Vulnerable [kinetic, uncommon and moderate -2]) [14pp]

would that fly?

They might not have checked out the "hey, we switched to another site" e-mail yet. I'd say give them another 24 hours and if any of us have their e-mail we should send one there way and let them know what's going on. I'm on board, either way, though.

"You'd figure that's something they'd have covered," he said with a slight chuckle towards the end, "but then again, that could be too optimistic."

He had been scanning emergency services radio bands since the invasion, but there was nothing of any benefit that he could gain from the transmissions. But that didn't keep him from making routine scans.

With a grave tone in his voice, Razorwing asked his fellow survivor, "Where were you when it happened?"

For a brief moment he thought of what might have befallen other heroes in the battles that raged across Freedom City, he looked back up to the scarlet web-slinger. "I hope so. I don't know the headcount of Freedom's hero community, but there aren't that many of us that are here."

Thinking that this wasn't the time to chastise an ally for calling him a "screw up", he turned the comment back around on her in hopes of boosting her morale.

"And we're the ones that made it, so we're the ones that knew to take the initiative and bunker down behind cover. Whoever is still out there is either really crazy or really bold."

Looking up at the web-descended heroine, Razorwing rubbed the back of his neck, working the tension of the day out as best he could. "It's been Hell out there," he remarked as he returned his gaze to the scene outside.

"How've you been holding up, Tarantula?" His voice was like a heavy heel on loose gravel, but there was a true sense of worry for the spider girl in his voice.

"...you do realize that this isn't Gotham City? You must've made a left turn at Albuquerque."

She shot a Webline and swung safely to the ground. "You look shaken... are you alright?"

The young man was stunned, not yet putting together what had just happened as he tried in vain to make out the red and white mask that was staring down at him.

Lost actions this round. Harvesting HP O_o

Though his sister gave a start, Jack responded to the sudden appearance of the deathly apparition with a grateful nod, passing the potted plant to the younger man. "Thanks, Kris, thing's a bit unwieldy. Just set it down wherever; we can find a decent corner for it later." The calaca mariachi gestured with his free hands. "Jill, this is Kristian, Kris, my sister. She's about the same age as you, wanted to come check out the, ah, new pad and all."

Jill extended a hand before realizing that Kristian's were busy with the massive fern. "You're one of Jack's... housemates, then?" She gave the funereal teen an appraising look, not bothering to conceal her attempt to figure out which of the Interceptors she was speaking with.

"Yeah, something like that. Nice to meet you, Jill,"he said to the young woman as he hauled the rather large potted plant from the hallway to the kitchen then into the living room, looking for some direction from Lynn as to where to put the "house-warming gift".

The siblings followed the reaper into the larger area of the kitchen. Jack offered the gathered party goers a brief wave. "Hey folks, looking festive. Ah, this is my sister Jill; our mother sends her regards and a really big plant. It's very... leafy." He pointed out the others in turn. "That'd be Lynn, who set this shindig up, Colt, who's going for the ironic costume thing, and Nadia, who is extra Russian today, I guess."

Oh... wow. Whispering to Nadia as he walked by <"Looking good, soldier.">, he put the plant down in accordance to Grimalkin feng-shui.

Watching the energy-based hero depart past the protective golden shields from his vantage point of patrolling along the drive-way, Razorwing silently wished the hero luck in his mission. Had he been in better shape than he was, he would have gone with Dark Star, but as he was he was more a hindrance than a help.

Looking through the golden barrier that held the demonic forces from crashing into the last bastion of Freedom City's defense, he couldn't help but feel a sense of survival-horror. It was odd how many times he had stared death in the eyes unblinkingly, yet the hellish invading force he saw before him caused him to shake in his boots. They clawed and gnawed and barked curses unfit for mortal ears, but he stood his ground and continued his patrol of the perimeter and points of interest.

His thoughts brought him back to earlier in the invasion, when the Interceptors hoped to aid the West End in defending against the infernal assault, but he put those thoughts out of his head as quickly as they came to him. Now wasn't the time for retrospection, but for assessing the situation.

The golden field of energy that warded the demonic horde from "home plate" had been weakening, fading, it's original luster dimming into a brassy tinge.

If we can't hold this position, we're done.

Kristian had been in his room all day, knowing that a house full of strangers and "uninformed" civilians would be parading about the brownstone in Halloween garb, and it set him in a foul mood earlier, though he got over it. Looking through his personal affects he found a set of old urban camo BDU's and a stock M-16 just waiting to be used, though he thought against it after Jack's pronounced dislike of firearms.

Instead, he took the disguised Razorcycle out for a spin when the sun fell below the horizon, went downtown and grabbed a generic "grim reaper" costume from off the rack. By the time the first guest arrived, Kristian had already altered the store-bought costume and was decked out like Death itself.

"You can't have a housewarming without a houseplant," Ellie Espadas informed her brother as they walked down the street to the brownstone apartment. "It's an accepted societal norm."

"It's surprisingly heavy, is what it is," Erik groused, shifting his grip on pot of the sizable fern their mother had insisted on sending along with them.

"Let me help you with that... Jack," he croaked in his course, vigilante voice, appearing from a shadow.

Kristian had stayed quiet during the back-and-forth exchange about "guns in the house", wanting to see how it would play out without his input on the situation. Obviously Nadia and the cowboy had no qualms about it, nor had he, but he wanted to see where the others stood on the point.

Jack took a step closer to Colt, setting his jaw. "I don't know if they've got AK-47s over in Westworld, but 'shooting up the place' is pretty much what they're for. And if Sparky misses a punch, it doesn't fly off into the crowd. It doesn't accidentally put a good cop in a wheelchair!"

And there it is, the reason for all this heat. It wasn't hard to deduce. Outbursts like that stem from a lack of emotional discipline, and they betray your thoughts and motivations.

Listening to the "argument" wind down civilly and without coming to blows, he spoke up to his new teammates. "I think 'the Interceptors' sounds pretty cool, actually. And I like the idea of a proactive group, not waiting for crime to happen, but preventing crime from happening." He cast his eyes around the assembled heroes and all the tech-goodies in the underground base.

Walking towards the hallway Vince had designated as living quarters to stow his "hero gear" in a secure location, he spoke to the others over his should. "I'm in."

"There's people out there what need our help. So we best git goin, quick! I'll start the MAVERIC. Grim! Razor! Jack! With me! The rest of you know what to do!

Colt spared a quick glance at each one of his teammates before dashing off down the tunnel to the garage.

"INTERCEPTORS, GO!" He threw his fist into the air!

Rising from his seat in front of the advanced computer terminals relaying the scenes of hellish carnage outside and bolting down the hallway at Colt's command, Razorwing rushed towards the garage, his footsteps echoing along the walls of the corridor in unison with his teammate's.

hmm, I really need to tighten up on this "posting" thing =p. OK, so the train will be alright, BD got knocked out of the park, and theres 4 dudes in battlesuits and an ice chick in tech-armor... what sort of distances am I looking at here?

Attack 1: Night Cruiser Tough save (-2) (1d20 7=25)

Attack 2: Night Cruiser Tough save (-2) (1d20 7=20)

Made 'em both =]

hey there. this isn't a declaration of departure or anything like that, but between the lousy internet connection and this laptop being on it's last leg, I might not be on as often as normal, perhaps even for a few days at a time ("KKAAHHNN!!"). So, if RW mysteriously drops out of a thread for a while, just hand-waive him out of there at your convenience.

Carnival happened on the 16th, and it's hinted at in a few posts that this happens afterword =]

Toughness save DC 27 (1d20+8=22)

fail by 5

Concentration check (1d20+3=7) and falling to his doom!

The dazzling electrification aura of the tri-pod mecha's hull pulled his attention away from surveying the damage below, and a few seconds later a trio of... the hell?.. color-coded females flew from an opened hatch in the mechanical beast, swarming the young man who was caught in the mecha's responsive attack.

Pushing off from the support column, Razorwing's arms fly out to unsheathe the pair of glider wings housed in his suit. Focusing, he shifts his weight to glide underneath the machine behemoth and drew his grapple gun and fired towards the tri-pod's undercarriage. Reeling himself up onto the chassis of the walking menace, he finds his footing and hides within the shadows of the colossus, calculating how much explosive it would take to topple the machine and how to do it without endangering the civilians below.