ex3lev3n

She's really damn good! Razorwing mused to himself. Although her words didn't seem accusatory, he couldn't be sure where she was coming from with her comment. It didn't matter to him unless she made a move, though, so he let it be. "No, but I have a motorcycle parked at the other end of the warehouse, smart ass," he replied to Silhouette. He took the offered map and understood the directions easily. "Got it," he said over his shoulder as he stalked through the shadows towards the Razorcycle. "You coming?"

Profession (mercenary) check to Navigate (1d20+4=20)

Toughness save DC 17 (1d20+8=22)

GM POST "Aaaahhh-," yelled Sal as he flew through the air, crashing into the bound Uncle Tucker. Both men were bowled over, Salvatore knocked unconscious by the force of the Pugilist's throw, but Uncle Tucker took the impact of the squishy little human and merely fell to the sand. The undead hobo began to chuckle, but he was soon shut up when he was dragged along the sand by the tether wrapped around him, then pulled up into the air to dangle upside down like a punching bag.

Hmm, it'd take him two rounds, by my math. He has 100ft movement, and stealthed (1 round), grabbed some cash and moved back out the warehouse (another round). that's approximately 12 seconds according to Rules-As-Written. If she finished reading the map before that, she'd realize he wasn't there, but she still wouldn't know where he went or even that he came back.

Yeah, she's good, he thought to himself. Not many people have heard of me, let alone have my MO down. He crossed his arms and stood silently while Silhouette examined the map, waiting patiently. He could have offered to help, reading a map being one of the most basic skills he learned under Ronin's tutelage, but he decided against it. Taking the opportunity to slink back into the warehouse while Silhouette was distracted, he found the briefcase filled with money and took two stacks of the drug money, stashing them in compartments in his utility belt. He needed to fund his war on crime somehow, and without Dr. Archeville footing the bill anymore, he had to resume his old methods. Utilizing his ninja speed and quickness, he was in and out of the warehouse in seconds.

Razorwing is Taking 10 on a Stealth check to avoid detection by the handcuffed thug. DC30

Razorwing waited to speak to his companion until they were well outside the building and close enough to one another where any eavesdroppers wouldn't pick up on their conversation. "I didn't notice you inside the building when I showed up. That's impressive." He didn't want to appear too eager to speak to his companion, though his curiosity was getting the best of him. "You have a name?" he asked before offering his own.

They had walked for nearly a hundred yards and still Kris couldn't see anything that looked remotely out of place. "Hey, Tex, aren't we supposed to be looking for a weapon depot or something?" he asked the older man. He had been briefed on the op, but the information he was given was scarce at best. All he knew was that a team was needed to infiltrate a secret weapon R&D facility, collect intel on the current project, and take it back to the Iranian government for a quick paycheck. Nothing too hard. "Sort'a, kid. It's un'nerground, so we aint gonna see the entrance till we're right on top of it. No worries, though. Ol' Tex has a nose for this sort of thing," he cracked a grin at the younger man. "'Sides, we got three teams looking for it, won't take long at'all." The pair continued for another hundred yards when their tactical radios crackled. "Tex, the hell is this, a snipe hunt?" asked a gruff voice. "There ain't s**t out here, man." ""Aye, 'e's right," another voice chimed in, demure and Irish. "Lest ye count blazing sand and poor company." Laughter came across the radio, quickly followed by a sharp retort from the first voice. "Yeah, good one, Maeve. Go f**k yourself." "Cut tha chatter, Brock, and watch yer goddamn language," barked Tex over the radio. "We got a lady present, not to mention Gerber's virgin ears listenin' in." Another burst of laughter at Kris's expense came over the young man's tac-com, and he bit back a harsh reply. "Just yankin' yer chain, kid," Tex teased him. "Whatever," he said to the Texan. He continued to scout the area for signs of an underground entrance for another fifty yards when another voice came over the radio. "Tex, this is Warchild. I think I found it, but..." the mercenary sounded puzzled. "I don't know how to explain it, better see it yourself." "Ya'll heard tha man, group up on Warchild!" Tex commanded. "Gerber, I want you to hold back a couple meters." Kris nodded an affirmation, though he was unsure of the reason behind the apparent concern. He could take care of himself, probably more so than anyone else on the team. Why was he being babied?

Razorwing Timeline Shadows Looming Ice, Ice, Baby! Carnival In The Park Battle Of The Century... Bridge Interceptors: Issue #0 Ghoulies And Ghosties And Long-Legged Beasties Interceptors - Setting Up Shop Invasion! - West End Invasion! = Danger Mansion Painting The Town Fungus Among Us Welcome Back, Kris Mistaken Bad Things Happen To Bad People Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight Unbalanced: Razorwing's Oct 2010 Vignette Wrong Place, Right Time Five Across The Eyes

GM POST Salvatore rubbed the back of his neck and staggered over to the wrecked car that lay sideways on the beach, ignoring the stream of curses his female companion threw at him. He investigated the driver side door and found that it opened without a hitch. Chucky was unconscious, and in bad shape. Nevertheless, Sal played to his weasely nature and sneakily grabbed Chucky's pistol from the floorboard. He turned and fired the pistol at Orela, though his aim was off by just a hair. Uncle Tucker took the opportunity to pounce upon the Pugilist while her back was turned! Before he could claw the surprised Orela, a grappling line shot out from above and snared the undead vagrant.

Sal shoots at a Flat-Footed Orela Attack roll DC13 (1d20+2=11) MISS! Razorwing is using his Readied action Snare check (1d20+12=18) Reflex save DC20 (Sneak Attack) (1d20+8=10) HIT! Failed by a margin of 10

1d20=17 Sleight of Hand check

GM Post October 10, The Fens The air was crisp in the late hours of Freedom City, scattered clouds drifting lazily in the night sky. There was just a sliver of moon shining tonight, but the artificial glow of neon lights illuminated the trash-laden streets of the Fens. Drunkards, prostitutes, and other assorted ne'er-do-wells roamed about the littered sidewalks, too immersed in their own base indulgences to think twice about the happenings around them. Beneath the facade of an unremarkable book store that catered to a... particular type of clientele, there took place a gathering. A number of local triad and tong organizations came together to discuss a merger, of sorts. Each group had a solid hold over key elements of the Asian underworld, and they each sought to bring their influence to Freedom City in an attempt to seize power from the faltering Italian and Russian mafias. However, the exact nature of the way to handle this orchestrated takeover was a matter of dispute between the triads and tongs. Each organization had it's specialty, and each organization was eager to increase it's own revenue by way of proposing a plan that would lead to such ends. Obviously, the other groups weren't pleased with these propositions, and soon the meeting became a personal bid for power. In time, the groups would come to an agreement, and the Chinese underworld would attain a stranglehold on the criminal happenings of Freedom City. However, two heroes would interfere, and they would see that justice was served.

Bluff check (1d20+8=18)

GM POST The young man grimaced and let out a yelp as he was taken to the ground. He was by all accounts at the mercy of the Pugilist, and he was quick to comply to her questioning."I, ahh, I was gettin' chased by some hoods tryin' to boost my ride," he whimpered. However, he was honestly taken aback by Orela's vampire comment. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, lady." His eyes darted towards the wreck of a car that crashed off of the pier when he was asked about any first aid items. "Oh no. Chucky was driving." He seemed to care about the fate of his friend, though he obviously cared more about his own situation. "C'mon, just let me go." The woman he had been using previously as cover against who-knows-what shakily stood to her feet, removing her heels for better balance as she said, "You're such an ass, Sally. I can't believe you did that!" She tossed one her heels at the grappled man's face, and her aim was true, striking Sal right on the forehead.

OOC for this thread.

Not bad, Razorwing thought to himself. It wasn't the route he would have taken, but it'd be just as effective. "You hear that, dirt bag? Cops are coming, and when they bag your cell phone they'll know who you've been talking to," he commented on the thugs apparent contact with the Russian crime syndicate. "When that happens, they'll more than likely cut you a deal, which a spineless punk like you will jump at." Razorwing continued to threaten the bound thug. "Everyone will know you were working for both sides, and everyone will know that you sold them out to keep your sorry ass out of lockup..." he let his words hang in the air for a moment. "I suggest you do what I said and get the hell out of the city before your 'friends' find you." And she came prepared. Not bad at all. He shook his head at the offer. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a small evidence bag of his own and took another sample of the drugs. He would run an analysis on them later.

Intimidate check (1d20+10=16)

"Sit tight," the young hero said to the handcuffed hooligan. Peering into the contents of the suitcase he gathered a sample of the powder while he retrieved a tiny vial of clear liquid from his utility belt. Unscrewing the vial he added "If this isn't what I came for, punk, you are in for a world of hurt." He combined the powder with the liquid contents of the vial, re-sealed the cap, and swirled the concoction together with a practiced hand. Razorwing was satisfied with the results when the liquid became a deep blueish-purple. Turning to the other black-clad hero in the room, he said "Is there anything about a time the shipment needs to be picked up?"

hey, gang, it's ex3 again. I was wondering if anyone with the Ultimate Powers book could help me out with some questions regarding Variable Powers, such as cost and what it/they do exactly. EDIT: OK, let me rephrase that last part there. I know each rank gives you 5pp worth of stuff, like Alternate Form, but my real question is how to define what that stuff does exactly, and how it differs from Alternate Form.

"First, I want names. Who you work for, who brings in the shipments, and who they recieve those shipments from. Second," he leaned in close and growled his next words in the thug's ear, "I want you out of Freedom City." Although he was sure that the heroine who sat by and watched wasn't a threat to him, he wasn't accustomed to leaving his back turned to a stranger. He sent her a silent message with his eyes and posture: I'll get your story next, so don't go anywhere.

Razorwing reached for a set of handcuffs in his utility belt and tossed them casually to the figure pinning the crook down as he grabbed one of the briefcases and rifled through it's content. "Let's talk," he said to the thug, more a menacing command than a suggestion.

Spending a Hero Point for a pair of handcuffs.

Razorwing is game for whoopin' up on Sharktopus. As for location... the ocean? Heh, just joshing, I think their is a pretty decent aquarium in Freedom City. Might want to check that out.