Skysong

Sorry for the delay; I'm in the middle of trimester finals this week, and I've been studying like a maniac.

Tenuous, hm? Regrettably, that makes sense. Perhaps Dead Head could simply mention that Physicus was the one who brought the ship to Khalados to save its people; Zak hasn't told anyone that yet, and since it's Physicus's most recent (read last) memory, it might be easier to access. As for your unrelated topic, that's a long and somewhat interesting story. To boil it down, Zakitaj was originally a villain called "The Advocate", an alien terrorist who was inspired by the Batarians of Mass Effect. He was trying to incite war between the aliens who had wronged him and the planet he'd crash-landed on so that he could have his revenge, and didn't care what happened to the Humans so long as he got what he wanted. The kinetic projectors he has as a hero were originally a much more powerful disintegration beam, and he was also a grappling powerhouse. I came across several feats in "Crooks!" that made him better at that role, and while I was reading the book I came across Sovereign as a good example of a hostile alien to set up an "evil vs. evil" theme. I did all of this on a road trip, before I'd actually seen this site, and as I worked to balance everything out I decided that I wanted to write a hero instead. Rather than scrap everything I'd done so far, I adapted his powers, feat selection, and backstory, changing them slightly to make them more silver age friendly. The Broan stayed as they were because I didn't see any reason to change them; the whole "homeworld invaded" thing was mostly unaltered, but the appearance of the first Physicus to give guidance and salvation was new. That alias was actually the last thing I came up with while writing the profile. It worked out for the best, seeing as there aren't player villains here anymore.

Everything sounded delicious, of course, even though Zakitaj had no idea whatsoever what any of it meant; Mama Marta had such a great amount of energy and enthusiasm when describing the food of her restaurant that it was hard not to become a little excited as well. It seemed wise to choose the sampler, however; the more types of food he tried, the less ignorant he would be at the end of the meal, and that was certainly a good thing. He nodded and widened his eyes as Mona pointed out her favorite dish, his face perfectly genuine; he trusted her to have good taste in food, so it was only half a lie. "Hm... Difficult, difficult. If you'll allow me to steal just a bit of yours, Mona, I think I'll have the Pasta Sampler. If everything sounds and smells good, it stands to reason that I should try a bit of everything." He turned to Mama Marta, laughter in his eyes. "Now we'll see what she really thinks of me. Will she surrender a bit of her favorite dish?" It was clearly a joke; Zak wasn't deeply concerned with the results, but he might as well play to the "crowd" a little.

Zakitaj waited, his breathing shallow, the beating of his heart deafening in his ears. Even if Dead Head only acted as an intermediary, that was fine; it would still almost be like talking to Physicus. But that was making the assumption that this madman was telling the truth about talking to the dead; why had he believed it for even a second? It wasn't possible; there was no such thing as a soul, just a consciousness, an electrical pattern within the brain that determined people's actions and personality. How could he summon up, or be possessed by, or simply talk to, a person whose electrical impulses no longer fired? It was all biology, and things weren't adding up. Even so, he stayed silent as Dead Head pressed the photo to his forehead. What if, somehow, there was a chance. Information spilled forth from the strange entity, none of which he could've known unless he'd somehow eavesdropped on the earlier conversation with Erik, which seemed unlikely. Besides, he was talking about feelings that Zakitaj himself had only begun to understand and recognize; how could he have known unless he was talking to Physicus? But why would Physicus tell a stranger about his feelings rather than his prized student and friend, even after death? Was Dead Head really talking to his friend's spirit, or was he doing something that made more scientific sense, if only a little? "All true," he said, "but how do I know that you're not just reading imprints off of the picture? I've heard that strong feelings leave such imprints. I need more, if you can. I want to believe you, I do with all my heart, but it twists my mind to think this way."

The first guy is down; it was inevitable after the pummeling you gave him last time. A 13 would actually be the bare minimum to hit, but the other mobsters have taken shelter behind the warehouse's shelves. Fulcrum is up!

Oh. Right. I appreciate your honesty. The save DC would be 21 (15+6). Good luck! I'll make a quick edit to my post.

Mama Marta's hospitality continued to impress Zaktiaj, and he became all the more certain that Mona had chosen well. He thanked her for her guarantee of satisfaction, which he was sure she'd have no trouble fulfilling, and took his seat. As the waiter arrived to take drink orders, he hesitated; at home, the only variety in drinks was artificial flavoring and coloring on a base of water, but Physicus had told him that a wide variety of drinks brewed from plants existed on Earth. Still, it was best to play it safe, as Physicus had also mentioned that some such brews influenced the mind and body. He ordered simple water and turned back to the two women accompanying him. When Mama Marta asked about the reasons for his arrival, his smile faltered for an instant, but he quickly revived it. "Troubles at home compelled a group of my people to leave and seek a more peaceful place in which to live our lives. Our arrival was more difficult than we might have hoped, but fortunately Mona and her allies were able to help us." It was a very brief summary of much gorier, more complicated events, but he had no desire to think on them too hard; it had only been a few hours since he had witnessed the ship carrying all of the survivors of his people sliding backwards toward a splattering death on the surface of Earth, and though it had truly been eight years since his home's destruction, to him it had been only a single day. He was here with Mona to enjoy her company; better to leave unpleasant things as far in the past as possible. The waiter returned bearing not only water, but an elegant bottle filled with a dark liquid. Zakitaj kept his composure; he would drink one glass in small sips and with food if Mona drank it. It was the only way to be safe; overindulging in a substance he didn't understand wasn't a way to endear anyone on this planet to him. Then the menus arrived, and he pretended to stroke his chin in deep thought while actually hiding his mouth as he slowly pronounced each word. Many of them clearly weren't English, and many of those that were didn't make sense to him. He refused to be intimidated regardless. Turning to Mama Marta, he inquired, "do you have a recommendation for someone who has not yet tasted this kind of food? Sadly, I know very little about the cuisine of this pla... pardon me, of this region." He wouldn't deny that he was an alien, but if he was going to live on Earth, he needed to stop talking like one.

Dead Head's explanation made sense from a psychological standpoint, perhaps, but still not a practical one. Zakitaj wasn't going to see the dead as anything but corpses whether he wanted to or not, and wouldn't be receiving any wisdom from that which could not talk. It hadn't been too long since the truth of his own mortality had been clearly burned into his brain while he watched all that he knew being destroyed, so he wasn't in much danger of the other option, either. Nor did he really understand magic. His people did superhuman things through technology, whether via devices or (occasionally) genetic engineering. If it was "like" such forces, why hadn't his people encountered or explained it? And then the corpse-man made his suggestion, and Zakitaj's stomach tried to leap and turn at the same time. His face grew pale, his eyes wide. He wasn't sure whether to attack Dead Head for the sacrilege of his words or... or beg him on bended knee to do as he had said. Because no matter how nonsensical it seemed, no matter how mad, what if he was telling the truth? Could he ever forgive himself if he passed up an opportunity to talk to his closest friend one last time? And what harm would it really do if nothing happened? He came quickly to his decision, his voice slightly higher and filled half with excitement and half with apprehension. "Something of his? Will the tube do? But he hasn't touched it in a while... What about this photograph? He always carried it with him." He pulled forth the crumpled picture of the Huntington Gardens that Physicus had used to remember Earth; he'd seen it several times when his mentor had been on Khalados, and recently discovered it in one of the pockets of his costume, right over his heart. Surprisingly, he felt no hesitation as he offered it to Dead Head; the remotest possibility of actual contact made it all worthwhile. "Will I... be able to see him? To talk to him? Or just you?"

Sorry that took so long. The power has been out at my house for a good 4 hours, and only just came back on. Lukos is up.

Romeo could distantly tell that he and his crew were in deep, deep trouble; the zombies weren't coming at them fast, but even the super hadn't been able to down one, and they looked hungry. The C's clumped closer together before the onslaught of corpses, and those with guns quickly pointed them at the zombies indicated by the armored man. Gunfire echoed through the south end of the warehouse as well; bullets slammed into the creatures, but it was like trying to shoot through lead. *Ding*s and *dweoo*s sounded as their metal bones very, very slowly crumpled under the onslaught. Several courageous C's jumped forward with their switchblades, stabbing and slashing, and finally managed to send one of their foes to the floor. Inspired by this example, the rest of them leapt onto the other damaged zombie and managed to take it down. Their triumph was short-lived; the remaining zombies quickly closed the gap and continued their advance, stepping on and over their fallen comrades. It had taken all of that to bring down only two. Eleven yet remained, and showed no signs of slowing... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Running hard, Murielle reached the service entrance and dove through it, landing on the street outside and quickly getting back to her feet. She still had the money, and her bosses had promised that these zombies weren't going to go down easy. She'd done her job. And yet, as she looked at the envelopes full of cash that were now in her possession, she wondered... Still pondering, she vanished into the night. Meanwhile, not bothered in the slightest by the loss of two of their number, the zombies formed a semicircle around the C's and kept moving forward. As they came within range, some swiped out with their reinforced corpse arms at the closest gang members, while others reached for the packages they had been ordered to retrieve. Still a ways away, they proved unable to reach their targets, but it was only a matter of time...

This had not been part of the plan; Andy hadn't been told about any costumed freaks in the area. The appearance of two who were directly attacking his crew changed things up a bit. Wincing as Boris was hoisted into the air and Tony got a knee in the face, he and the other two members of his crew who were still in top shape opened up with their assault rifles, first at the extremely tall woman and then at the man who'd attacked Tony. Their panicked shots went wide around the former, but they managed to hit the latter as they retreated deeper into the warehouse, putting shelves between them and the supers and abandoning their comrades to the mercy of the supers. "Stay back, ya freaks!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When the walking corpses stepped out of the shadows, Zakitaj knew that they were all in trouble. From the sound of things at the far end of the warehouse, the mob had been intercepted, but his assumption that they, with their advanced weapons, would be the primary threat had just been proven false. He counted thirteen zombies shambling toward the C's, ordered forward by the shout of the fleeing woman. The smell of rot, which hadn't existed moments before, appeared and rapidly became overpowering, prompting his suit to filter it out. The C's were focused on him, oblivious to the forces of death itself that were about to descend on them. On the one hand, he couldn't let them leave with the zombie dust. On the other, he didn't want them to get killed by the zombies. "You could go on pointlessly shooting me," he began, "but you might consider shooting the ex-human creatures coming to devour you instead. With me victorious, you're at most arrested. With them victorious, you're dead. Given that his suggestion was quite reasonable, and his words quite persuasive, the C's turned their attention to their undead assailants. Physicus himself did so as well, kicking his kinetic projectors into overdrive by raising both hands to open fire on the two zombies leading the group moving in on the C's right flank. Though both the first and second shots impacted with the creatures, they were met with unpleasant *clank* sounds rather than squishes. These things had metal bones. "Aim for the same ones I just hit! They're too strong otherwise."

A 14 is enough to hit any of the mobsters, as all are shaken. They are not minions, however. Your rolls stand. Despite being shaken, the first mobster barely manages to stay standing. He is now staggered and stunned (13 vs. DC 27). Putting up a post for the mobsters, two of whom cannot act (Boris can't win the grapple and another is stunned). After that I'll put one up for Physicus, and then for the C's and zombies.

That's brilliant, Doc! Zak doesn't have Physicus's body with him, of course, but the prospect of actually talking to his mentor, even if offered by a madman, would be irresistible. If DH makes the offer, Zak will gladly lead him to where the old man presently lies.

Spent Physicus's other hero point to keep him from being stunned so early in the fight. The new save leaves him bruised with a 24 (4+10 protection+10 below 10 re-roll epic fail consolation bonus)

Eh, the rules aren't half as interesting as the actual roleplaying anyway. But they do keep us sane, so for that they have my eternal praise. We've not had anything truly derailing happen, so we'll just leave it in the past and move forward.

Zakitaj followed Mona into the little restaurant, drinking in the sights of the place alongside the smells. The way the building was furnished was just as foreign to him as... well, as everything else. On Khalados, a lack of building materials as well as careful regulation of space ensured that most buildings were simple grey cubes leading off of subterranean hallways; the only type of decoration most people could afford was wall carvings, and no two buildings were quite the same in that way. Here, though, there was so much color; the place was such a vibrant variety of textures and hues that it took his eyes a moment to adjust. Back home it would have been fit for only the wealthiest, and yet here on Earth it was humble. Being a good judge of people, Zakitaj took an instant liking to Beatrice Marta, though her bluntness made Mona look like a master of subtlety. He could see that she was content with her life, and had been so for many years; she had no doubt raised children and, when they left the nest, adopted everyone else she could lay hands on, Mona evidently included. He glanced sideways at his guide as Mama Marta complimented his looks, and was amused to watch her blush, though he kept it to himself. He had been complimented on his looks many times, and though he never took it for granted, he wasn't ever surprised or embarrassed, either. Smiling, he extended his hand to the aged but energetic woman. "A pleasure, Mrs..." he paused, then corrected himself. "Mama Marta." He had a suspicion that, if he'd called her anything else, she'd probably have corrected him. "Your taste in decor is exemplary," he said as he indicated the room, "and Mona assures me that your taste in food is even more impressive. Given what I can smell already, I'm quite inclined to believe her, though I'm eager to try it for myself."

I should say, the "only barely" part was the attack roll, not the grapple. Boris is a big guy, but he's like a little kitten to Fulcrum. And I know I said I would put up a post, but it makes more sense to get Lukos up first, since I can do a full mob post after that.

Gotcha, quotemyname. I misinterpreted the post, so I'll fix it. Disregard the attempted tazing, and go ahead and post after Dariusprime's; it doesn't matter too much, since you two are adjacent in the order anyway. Fulcrum got ol' Boris, but only barely. I'll put up a post in a bit.

The explanation of 'sorceror' and 'black magic' left many gaps in Zakitaj's understanding, but he was getting used to that by now. Phantom, he assumed, was another Metahuman; he'd met quite a few already, and heard of several more, but it seemed like there were always others beyond his knowledge. It heartened him to know that he wasn't the only one who had encountered Dead Head. If others knew him, and he spoke of them in a social context, the heroes of the city probably accepted his existence. Turning his mind back to the explanation, he continued to puzzle over it. As far as he knew, dead was dead. Enslaving the dead was like enslaving a rock, and thus not particularly useful. He'd heard Physicus use the word "demon", but only in a simile; in one of his stories, he'd described how a man had taken off "like all the demons of hell were chasing him". He hadn't asked about it at the time, as it hadn't seemed important. His own people had a complex mythology involving evil spirits and undead warriors, but there was never any scientific evidence for it, so he'd left it alone. Still, unless Dead Head was being totally crazy again, he wasn't the only person who believed in "magic" and, by extension, life after death. "Thank you," he replied with a nod in response to Dead Head's condolences. "Regrettably, a sensor package is not included in this battlesuit, so I cannot confirm your assertion. Even more regrettably, I still don't understand in the slightest what 'magic' is or how you speak to the dead. If it's as simple as talking to me, why can't I talk to them? If their brains cease functioning, they don't think, much less speak, do they? I realize I've only been on this planet a few days, and my experience is greatly limited, but it doesn't seem logical to me. I know you have skills far beyond anything a Halloween costume would grant you, as I've witnessed them myself, but the source and nature of your full capabilities still eludes my understanding."

Yes. Sorry, forgot to mention that.

Physicus takes a full-round action to aim his attack, gaining a +2 bonus to his normal +10. He also rolls pretty well. The damage bonus on his kinetic bolt is +10. He is, unfortunately, flat-footed due to aiming. Hopefully his armor will protect him.

Trading taunts with the Broan was only the beginning; Physicus was eager to trade blows with his old and much-hated enemies, and on some level he knew he was being more eager than he should be under his code to prevent harm. Still, he wasn't going to kill the Broan, just make them regret showing their ugly faces near his home and save the woman they were menacing. He could probably instill such fear in them that they would turn tail and run, but he didn't want to give them the chance to spread out through the population. No, he was going to take them down the old-fashioned way; one at a time, and with overwhelming force. His kinetic projectors silently vibrated as they charged up, and he took careful aim at the closest of the Broan in the group confronting him. None of the other heroes mattered; this was his grudge match, and he would see it settled, blow by blow. His lip curled with hatred and disgust; his face was an almost villainous mask in which only the desire for revenge could be read. "It is you who will be cleansed from the galaxy, murderers!" All was still and terribly silent, but the kinetic bolt flew with deadly accuracy at his enemies...

Zakitaj listened, intrigued, as Dead Head outlined his "duties". Despite his lack of knowledge about his origins, he was very clear on his mission, even though that mission was quite impossible. Or was it? He said he fulfilled the last wishes of the dead, avenged unjust deaths, and finished their unfinished business; that was in many ways the role of a homicide detective; was that what he had been before his transformation? Had it driven him mad, making him believe the dead were actually speaking to him, while the strength of his belief in his mission preserved that part of his mind? It was likely that there was more to it than that, but it was a promising working theory. He wasn't sure how to work in the defense of children; perhaps a carryover from another strongly-held belief of his old life, or perhaps a part of his origin that he hadn't even tried to explain. Whatever the case, Zakitaj was fairly convinced that he wasn't merely avoiding doing harm, but might actually be doing good. That was heartening; it meant that the alien didn't even have to try to bring him in, which was a good thing given how powerful he seemed to be. Then he asked the dreaded question the realities of which were still fresh in Zakitaj's mind. He tried to keep his face neutral, but for the first time his voice deviated slightly, though he quickly corrected it. "Imagine a world of a billion people with technology countless times more advanced than that of this planet. Now, imagine that planet being reduced to nothingness and its former population being reduced to a hundred hopeless refugees. It happened within two days. We're not stranded here, necessarily; this planet's inhabitants have offered to transport us wherever we wish to go. But we have nowhere but here to go. My friend kindled within me the desire to be a superhero on my planet; that chance was taken from me, so I chose to seek Earth and become one here. Long before the calamity, my mind was made up, but it was the calamity that forced me into my role as guide and protector." Concluding his explanation, he asked, "How do you speak to the dead? And what is a 'sorceror'? You never did tell me what 'black magic' was, either."

I thought Lukos was dropping down directly in front of the mobsters to threaten them, resulting in a map that looks like this: Lukos is still technically between the mobsters and the door, but they're not looking to leave, anyway. The only escapee he might have to worry about so far is Murielle, who will reach the door next turn unless stopped. If I got it wrong, I'll edit the map and post.

Romeo and the two C's nearest him coughed, hacked, and wheezed in the gas as they stumbled over each other; he could see that the rest of his gang wasn't faring any better. Caught between the newly-arrived super and the well-armed mobsters, he didn't seem to have any options aside from trying to go through one of them. Then another super dropped down from the ceiling between the C's and the mobsters, and he quickly made his mind up. His boss would be pleased as long as some of their rivals got trashed, and it was too risky to go through two groups that wanted him busted up. Drawing his pistol, he led the way toward the armored super at the main door. His hand shook as he raised the gun, and the shot went wide. None of the others had any better luck with their pistols, either, probably being just as intimidated as he was in addition to their burning lungs. The five without guns flicked out their switchblades, preparing for a desperate charge past the super and through the door. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When the grenades first hit, Murielle's instinct was to get out. She had the cash, and this was clearly between the C's and whoever was attacking the warehouse. She was beginning to stagger away, hands clasped over her mouth and nose and eyes half-shut, when the voice of a super echoed through the building. Her boss's words came back to her: it doesn't matter who gets the goods as long as it's not the Law. If they get them, you're done. She was pretty sure the supers could trash the C's, and that meant that they would find the dust, leaving her in big trouble. She didn't have any choice. "Get the packages back," she ordered. Suddenly the shadowy figures at the edges of the warehouse made their slow way toward the C's, their lumbering tread and outstretched arms combining with their putrid flesh to reveal their true nature: zombies. A second super dropped from the roof; falling back from him, Murielle ran for the service entrance. This had gotten much too intense for her, and she trusted her protectors to do their work. Meanwhile, the zombies made their slow, lumbering way toward the C's...