trollthumper

And Nick goes on a 17.

OOC thread, and yes, we're gonna need it.

It said a lot that leaping across rooftops was starting to get boring. Cannonade looked down on the Waterfront from the top of an unfinished condo complex. One of many attempts to gentrify the docks, turn them into the next Port Regal. He couldn't say he was entirely thrilled about the idea. Sure, there wasn't much housing on the Waterfront, but it was at least an okay place for recent immigrants and dockworkers. He wondered if they'd go if the docks became another playground for the well-off. Got to get the big picture, he thought to himself. It was something he'd been thinking about a lot these days. It was one thing to make the leap to becoming a hero -- but what did you do after that? Save orphans from house fires? Find out where White Knight was hiding and punch that silly hood right off his head? Rescue cats from trees? It said a lot that he hadn't run into anything yet -- even jumping across The Fens, all he'd found were quiet streets and the occasional bum. He'd tried to lead the guys to a nearby shelter -- the least he could do. There's got to be some sort of service, he thought. Do they have a Big Brother program for wannabe heroes? Do you have to stand on a rooftop brooding for a certain time before they show up? Then he remembered his surroundings. At least I've got that down. Sighing, Cannonade adjusted his helmet and hopped down the sides of the scaffolding. Maybe looking at things from the ground would help him figure it out.

Hey, guys. As you can see by my sig, I've recently gotten my first PL7 character approved -- Cannonade, a somewhat street-oriented personality trying to live up to the model of his WWII superhero grandfather. Problem is, while I may be good for setting up intros for supernaturally-oriented characters, it's a bit harder when doing someone who's working on the standard criminal element. As one might judge from his background, Nazi-punching is always welcome, but I don't exactly want to make it the major focus of the character. So. If anyone's got any good ideas for a good street-level intro -- be it beating up gangsters, uncovering evidence of police corruption, or just meeting up on patrol -- I'd be up for hearing 'em. And I'd also be up for running 'em, if need be. Thanks.

Again, a somewhat spotty weekend -- LARPs tomorrow afternoon and evening, and an Exalted TT in the next county over Sunday afternoon. I'll post when I can.

"Come, friends. Let us hunt." Power Level: 12 (182PP) Trade-Offs: -2 Defense / +2 Toughness In Brief: Biker with delusions of godhood, sowing a trail of destruction with his men. Alternate Identities: Colin Daniels Identity: Public Birthplace: Atlantic City, NJ Occupation: Outlaw Biker Affiliations: The Hounds (biker gang) Family: All dead. Age: 26 (DoB: May 12, 1984) Apparent Age: 26 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Irish-American Height: 6'2" Weight: 220 lbs. Eyes: Green Hair: Long and black Description: Herne -- he refuses to go by Colin these days -- stands tall and proud, daring the world to conquer him. He's usually dressed in biker's leathers and denim. He doesn't exactly believe in the merits of personal grooming -- his beard is untamed, and his hair runs halfway down his back. But what stands out most is the horns. Somewhere, Herne found someone willing to graft coral to his skull in the form of stag's horns. Power Descriptions: General Category: Psychic (First Generation Mutant) Emotion Control/Mental Blast - Herne draws out his war horn and blows into it. The sound of the horn carries Herne's psychic influence, either bending their emotions to his will or striking directly at their minds. Force Field - Bullets, swords, fists -- all bounce off of Herne with a flash of crimson light. Strike - Herne's sword sparks with psychic energy, helping it to cut like a knife through most obstacles. History: Colin Daniels grew up on the outskirts of Atlantic City with a single mother and a grudge against the world. Even as a young kid, he had a temper -- not the kind of thing that made him a bully, but more the kind of thing that made the other kids give him a wide berth. Friends were few, and the teachers looked on him with suspicion. As he grew older, Colin fell in with a local gang of bikers, the Hounds. At first, they told him to get lost, but soon, he began to ingratiate into the group, and eventually became their "mascot." Colin himself was surprised at how easily he'd come to be accepted by the bikers. It was only after he managed to drive a would-be mugger away in mind-blowing panic that he came to realize he was psychic. From then on, things went fairly easy for Colin. When he was of age, he became the "broker" for the gang -- he'd go to the other outfits to "negotiate" with them for control over the various influences in town. It didn't always go smoothly, however. One day, a deal went sour, and Colin was beaten into unconsciousness by the rival gang. While he was passed out, he had a vision of himself in a strange world under the hills, where hundreds of followers addressed him as "Cernunnos." When he woke, Colin did his research into vision, finding out all he could about the Celtic god. A few weeks later, Colin told the rest of the gang what they were to do. They were no longer to call him Colin -- now he would be known as Herne the Hunter. They were to remove their stakes from Atlantic City and take to the road, going where they pleased and doing what they wished. They would hunt, drink, and screw until they had their fill, with none of this worry about treasuries and partnerships. Needless to say, there were those who opposed such a plan, but once Herne made examples of them, the rest of the gang fell in line. Herne and the Hounds have spent the past four years driving up and down the East Coast, tearing down the back roads, challenging midnight drivers to perilous races, and taking whatever they wish. Now, Herne has had another "vision," and has decided to head for the big city... Personality & Motivation: Herne is wild, untamed and passionate, laughing boastfully and happily sharing meat and mead with his friends. Underneath the wild humor, however, lies the soul of a fanatic -- he knows he is the rebirth of Cernunnos, and that it's his duties to show humans the folly of restraint. Powers & Tactics: Herne and his men usually stick to their motorcycles, attacking as they drive by with pipes, clubs and swords. When Herne has selected a target, he blows his horn, driving his men into a killing rage. He himself prefers to fight with his sword, but will use his Mental Blast if melee combat seems useless. The only way to actually get him off his motorcycle in combat is to knock him off it. Complications: Delusions of Grandeur -- Herne believes himself a god, and will become enraged at anyone who tries to show that he's really just a powerful psychic. Loyalty Above All -- Herne considers himself a just and loving god to those who follow him. He will not abandon his fellow gang members, and will bring his vengeance to bear if one of them is taken. Abilities: 4 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 4 + 6 = 24pp Str 14 (+2) Dex 14 (+2) Con 14 (+2) Int 12 (+1) Wis 14 (+2) Cha 16 (+3) Combat: 12 + 12 = 24pp Initiative: +2 Attack: +6 (+12 Melee) Grapple: +14 Defense: +10 (+6 Base, +4 Dodge Focus), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -1, -12 Impervious Forcefield Saving Throws: 9 + 4 + 11 = 24pp Toughness: +14 (+2 Con, +12 Force Field) Fortitude: +11 (+2 Con, +9) Reflex: +6 (+2 Dex, +4) Will: +13 (+2 Wis, +11) Skills: 56r = 14pp Craft (Mechanical) 4 (+5) Diplomacy 4 (+7) Drive 8 (+10) Intimidate 8 (+11) Knowledge (Streetwise) 8 (+9) Knowledge (Theology/Philosophy) 8 (+9) Notice 6 (+8) Sense Motive 6 (+8) Survival 4 (+6) Feats: 24PP All-Out Attack Attack Focus (Melee) 6 Dodge Focus 4 Equipment 3 (15 EP) Fearless Minions 7 (46/60PP, 10 Minions) Move-By Action Power Attack Powers: 37 + 24 + 11 = 72PP Emotion Control 12 (Extras: Area Burst, Selective); (Flaws: Sense-Dependent (auditory)); (Power Feats: Alternate Power 1) [[37pp] AP: Mental Blast 9 (Extras: Area Burst); (Flaws: Sense-Dependent (auditory)) (36 PP) Force Field 12 (Extras: Impervious) (24 PP) Strike 10 (Alternate Power: Mighty) (11 PP) Drawbacks: 0 + 0 + 0 = 0pp DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC17 Toughness (Staged) Damage Emotion Control Perception/Area DC22 Will Emotion dependent Mental Blast Perception/Area DC24 Will (Staged) Damage Strike Melee DC27 Toughness (staged) Damage Abilities (24) + Combat (24) + Saving Throws (24) + Skills (14) + Feats (24) + Powers (72) - Drawbacks (0) = 182 Power Points

Player Name: Trollthumper Character Name: Cannonade Power Level: 11/15 (169/249PP) Trade-Offs: -2 Defense / +2 Toughness Unspent PP: 80 Progress To Impervium Status: 138/150 (Platinum Status earned with Nick Cimitiere) In Brief: Would-be working class hero/anti-racist skinhead trying to live up to his WWII hero grandfather's legacy. Alternate Identities: Joe Macayle Identity: Secret Birthplace: Freedom City Occupation: Steelworker Affiliations: None Family: Greg Macayle (father, construction worker); Sandra Macayle (mother, hairdresser); Andy Macayle (brother, high school student) Age: 21 (DoB: Nov 11, 1988) Apparent Age: 21 Gender: Male Ethnicity: "British Isles Mutt" Height: 6'2" Weight: 220 lbs. Eyes: Brown Hair: Black, usually worn close-shaved Description: On the job, Joe doesn't dress that different from the other guys -- work boots, work shirt, jeans. When he goes to shows or is hanging out with his friends, he usually wears his gear -- jeans, Doc Martens, band T-shirt/polo shirt, braces, and a black flight jacket with a circular SHARP patch on the arm. As Cannonade, his style doesn't change much -- he trades his blue jeans for black, his black flight jacket for a red one, and his band T-shirts for a white T with a cannon firing a ball into the air as a logo. The only true adornment he wears is a project made from some of the leftover cast-offs at work -- a steel Trojan helmet, meant more to cover his identity and pay homage to his grandfather than to protect. History: "Always be proud of what you are." That was Greg Macayle's constant advice to his oldest son, Joe. Greg and his wife Sandra managed to eke out a pretty good living for their kids in Southside -- sure, money was tight sometimes, but they always managed to get by. Greg taught Joe the value of hard work, accepting others, and not letting the world grind you down. Most importantly, he taught Joe that it's important to stand up for what you believe in. Sometimes, Greg wondered if he taught Joe this a bit too well. The first real indicator was when he fell in with the punk scene in high school; from there, it was a short jump to the local SHARPs. Very few parents are especially thrilled that their son's become a skinhead. It took Joe a long series of explanations about the history of skins and how not all of them had white power sympathies -- hell, the ones he ran with positively loathed Nazis. While the issue was dropped, his folks always kept hoping he would grow out of it. The second indicator was when Joe decided to get a job at the steelworking plant right out of high school. Greg and Sandra had hoped he would think about college, but Joe pointed out that his grades weren't good enough to qualify for a scholarship, and Andy had a better chance of getting into a quality school. He'd just put aside what he could at work to pay for night school while studying in his free time. Joe quickly adapted to life at the plant -- getting along with the other guys, learning the ins and outs of the union, and always keeping his eye on the ball. One day three years into the job, however, there was a spill-over at the plant. Safety procedures went into effect, but Joe's hand got splashed by a stray glob of molten iron. The pain was immense... and then it mysteriously stopped. Joe looked down at his hand to find that it was burned, but not as badly as it could've been. In the days after the accident, Joe found that things could change. When a pen rolled under the couch, he went to retrieve it -- and ended up lifting it single-handed. Desperate to talk to someone about what he was going through, Joe went back to his parents and told them about the changes in his life. That was when Greg revealed to Joe a series of medical records dating back to when he was born, stamped with the AEGIS logo. Greg told Joe the truth about his grandfather, Paul Macayle. Paul had been a labor organizer with socialist tendencies during the Great Depression. He'd managed to get the auto plant he worked at unionized, but some of the guys at work questioned his patriotism. Paul loved America, but thought that it could lend a better hand to its poor. When Pearl Harbor was bombed, Paul signed up for service -- not to prove his patriotism, but to aid his country. Word of his sympathies caused a few hang-ups with officers left over from the post-WWI Red Scare, however, and the question of whether he was fit for service was bounced around the local brass. One officer, however, not only stood up for Paul, but submitted his name for a top secret program. Using knowledge of genetics retrieved from a German defector, Paul was altered to become an ideal fighting machine, a field operator who could break up heavy artillery and soften up enemy battalions for the other soldiers. The program had failed to take on many soldiers, and the number crunchers at the Pentagon were beginning to wonder if it was worth it. Paul, however, not only pulled through the regimen, but emerged with greater strength and resilience than any other soldier. He was the Legionnaire. Paul fought in the German theater from 1941-1944. During his time overseas, he met Laura, a composer working with the USO shows. The two fell in love, and got married in August of 1944. But as Legionnaire's unit approached convened on the Ardennes Mountains, they were assaulted by a strike group led by Superior. Legionnaire managed to get his men to safety, but at the cost of his own life. He was buried a hero, leaving behind Laura... and their son. Greg had been tested when he was born, and while Legionnaire's genetic profile had been passed on, it was latent. The chances were it would trigger if he was exposed to mortal peril, but Laura refused to let such a thing happen, even in a controlled setting. Greg himself didn't learn about the chance of trigger until Laura had died, and by that time, with Joe learning to talk and Andy on the way, he felt he couldn't take the risk. Joe was the first to inherit the mantle of his grandfather, the Legionnaire. After spending a few nights debating with himself on what to do next, he went with what he's always done -- stand up for what he believed in. Power Descriptors: Mutation (Legacy derived; the DCU term would be "metahuman") Personality & Motivation: Out of costume, Joe is warm, open, and friendly. He tends to lose himself in passion, whether it be joy or anger, and if challenged, will try to resolve things peacefully -- though if someone's being a jerk to him, he'll likely bring his anger to bear verbally. In costume, Cannonade tries to be stoic, calm and stalwart, the kind of man Joe thinks his grandfather was on the field. This works out better in theory than as practice as of now, as sometimes he manages to lose himself in the flow of battle -- especially when dealing with a foe he really, really hates. Complications: ...And The American Dream: Joe wants to represent the beliefs his grandfather stood for -- the idea that America is a land of ideals, a place where those who fall can expect a hand to guide them back up, a place where a person can take pride in what they do. He'll proudly stand up for these beliefs when challenged, and may let anger or despair take hold when he sees the flouting or failure of these ideals. Lurking In The SHADOWs: As far as Joe knows, most of the agents of Nazi Germany his grandfather fought against have been neutralized. Nacht-Krieger is missing, Superior is imprisoned, and Overshadow is dead. But a lot happened during the War, and a lot is still unknown. Who knows who may be still bearing a grudge over the failure of the Third Reich? Especially if they wish to take out that grudge on someone taking up the mantle of one of the very Allies who dogged their heels... "New Jersey Nazis...I Hate New Jersey Nazis": In addition to the bone-deep hatred for Nazis that most SHARPs bear, Joe's dislike for fanboys of the Third Reich is deepened by the knowledge of his grandfather's death at the hands of one of Hitler's supermen. This is a problem, as Joe knows he needs to live up to Legionnaire's legacy, and his old approach to dealing with Nazis usually contravened First Amendment regulations -- and assault laws. No, Not That Kind Of...: From his manner of dress to his declarations, Joe's still pretty clear about the fact that he's a skin. Of course, he'll usually follow this up with an explanation about the various subsets of the skinhead subculture and the general antipathy for white power "boneheads" in various street scenes, but, well, still doesn't change the fact that once you've introduced yourself as a skinhead, it may not win you any favors. A Working Class Hero Is Something To Be: Joe still works a 9-to-5 job that isn't exactly big on breaks, which means if there's danger afoot, it might not be easy for him to get out. And there's only so long his union rep is gonna cover for him... Abilities: 9 + 2 + 10 + 2 + 4 + 6 = 33PP Strength: 32/19 (+11/+4) Dexterity: 12 (+1) Constitution: 36/20 (+13/+5) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 16 (+3) Combat: 12 + 12 = 24PP Initiative: +5 Attack: +6 Ranged, +11 Melee Grapple: +24, +14 w/out powers Defense: +9 (+6 Base, +3 Dodge Focus), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -10/-2 Saving Throws: 0 + 5 + 6 = 11PP Toughness: +13 [imp 11]/+5 (+13/+5 Con) Fortitude: +13/+5 (+13/+5 Con, +0) Reflex: +6 (+1 Dex, +5) Will: +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 80R = 20PP Acrobatics 8 (+9) SM Craft (Structural) 4 (+5) Diplomacy 8 (+11) SM Gather Info 8 (+11) Intimidate 8 (+11) SM Knowledge (Current Events) 8 (+9) Knowledge (History) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Pop Culture) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Streetwise) 8 (+9) Notice 8 (+10) SM Profession (Steelworker) 4 (+6) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Feats: 26PP All-Out Attack Attack Focus (Melee) 5 Challenge [Fast Startle] Dodge Focus 3 Improved Grab Improved Initiative Inspire 5 Leadership Luck 2 Power Attack Skill Mastery (Acrobatics, Diplomacy, Intimidate, Notice) Startle Takedown Attack 2 Well-Informed Powers: 16 + 13 + 11 + 2 + 2 + 11 = 55PP Enhanced Constitution 16 (to 36/+13) [16PP] Enhanced Strength 13 (to 32/+11) [13PP] Impervious Toughness 11 [11PP] Speed 2 (25mph / 250ft per Move Action) [2PP] Super-Movement 1 (Slow Fall) [2PP] Super-Strength Array 5 (10 points; Feat: Alternate Power) [11PP] Base Power: Super-Strength 4 (effective STR 50 [Heavy Load: 12 tons]; Feats: Shockwave [100-ft Cone], Super-Breath [100-ft Cone]) {10/10} Alternate Power: Leaping 10 (x2,500; Running Long Jump 50,000 ft., Standing Long Jump 25,000 ft., High Jump 12,500 feet at rank 10 [6 rounds]; Running Long Jump 500 ft., Standing Long Jump 250 feet, High Jump 125 feet at rank 4 [move action]) {10/10} Drawbacks: -0PP None DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Shockwave Touch/Area DC 21 Reflex 1/2 Effect DC 26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Super-Breath Touch/Area DC 21 Reflex 1/2 Effect Contested STR/DEX vs +11 Prone Abilities (33) + Combat (24) + Saving Throws (11) + Skills (20) + Feats (26) + Powers (55) - Drawbacks (0) = 169/249 Power Points

Nick thought on it. It would be interesting to work along other heroes -- and other mystics, at that. But still... "It's a great opportunity," said Nick. "But I've kind of got a job right now, with someone who goes way back. I don't want to leave 'em out in the cold. However... if it's possible, I could definitely do a guest lecturer thing. And, hey, we could see where it goes from there."

"Sure, I think you told me about it when we met at Lantern Hill," Nick said. "Academy for superpowered teens, right? What, do you think they need someone to teach would-be Potters about the somewhat-gray arts?"

"It's okay," Nick said. "And hey, sometimes flashy works. It's just, sometimes it also works to be understated. Besides, Orpheus is a bit of a honey-roasted ham. If I went around every haunt bellowing, 'There are RESTLESS SPIIIIRITS AFOOT!', I'd probably have polyps by now."

"Well," Nick said, "if I can get a clear view of the back entrance once we get in... I think we can give us the back-up we need. It's possible I could draw up some fake policeman from ghost-stuff at the back door -- I'd technically be working my will outside of the ward, so it might be just as effective. It'd give him a choice between three heroes... or a squad of Freedom's finest SWAT officers."

"Well, it's more a figure of speech," Nick said. "It's not like Virgil took me through that dark wood or anything. I just kind of wandered the worlds below until Charon told me to turn back." "Like I said, Freedom's always been in my heart. While I kinda came into my power down South, I grew up here. I know that the region's in good hands, so I've decided to come back to see what I can do in this town." Okay, Nick, next time you want to avoid the awkward, don't bring up other cosmological models in front of representatives of said cosmology. You don't want a repeat of when you mistook Izanami for Hel, do you? "I know there's the whole diplomacy matter to deal with," Nick said, "and I understand that the various dominions clash. I just try to stay outside of it -- be a neutral party, y'know, help the dead get where they want to go."

Nick walked down the boardwalk alongside Kid Cthulhu, trying to take his mind off the encroachment of the Underworld. To help in that endeavor, Nick bought some fried dough and offered to split it with Kid Cthulhu. "So, here's what I think happened," Nick said to his squamous friend. "Benny mentioned a strega -- Italian word for "witch." My guess is he somehow got some sort of practitioner to bind his soul to Freedom -- the Boardwalk, in particular. The other side of that deal is that he ended up going to Hades. Now, I've only managed to get across the River Styx once, but I know some of the details about the place. There are supposedly three judges who pass judgment on the dead. And the guys who came up from the wreckage looked like pretty authoritative to me." Nick swallowed the dough. "I think our guy managed to pull one off on the judges of the dead. Take their power, use it to build his own kingdom. Would explain why all the legal talk made him run."

"If we're pretty sure we can take a few of 'em out quickly before anyone else notices, yeah," Nick said. "Otherwise, I'm all in favor of causing chaos." Looking over the house, Nick was honestly concerned. He'd run into similar arrangements in New Orleans and Savannah, where some of the more experienced gangsters would try a hire a bokor or three to ward their holdings against vengeful ghosts or other weirdness. That was usually kept quiet, though, and Nick had only learned about it first hand. How did someone like this O'Hagan learn about the set-up?

Nick nodded to Valkyrie, then walked calmly out of the brownstone. When he was calmly down the nearby alley, he started sprinting again. Halfway back to the Black Petal, he ducked behind a dumpster, called upon the depths, and changed back into his normal clothes. He had all the makeup off by the time he came back to the corner to the cafe, and managed to get back on his shift with two minutes to spare. Okay, so... draugr. Gonna need to crack open the books... ------------------------------- Meanwhile, back at the brownstone, CSU showed up five minutes after Nick's departure. Valkyrie stood out of the way of the investigators while they processed the scene. After a while, the lead investigator came up to Valkyrie to share his findings. "It'll be a while until the scene is released," he said, "but so far, it's pretty clean. We found some shoe prints, but whoever did this knew the basics. No fingerprints on the door knob or key pad. We've got blood samples, of course -- hoo boy, do we have blood samples -- but it'll take us time to run the tests." He looked to the other investigators, then to Valkyrie. "Look, I know there's a lot of woogy in this town, but... you said you got called to the scene about a half hour ago, right? Well, the blood's still fresh. Quite fresh. By now, we would've expected some form of oxidization, but it's still slick. Either our burglar was taking anticoagulants, in which case there probably would've been even more blood, or... there's some sort of power in it." The investigator shakes his head. "Vampires, huh? Who'd've thunk it?"

Nick and Kid Cthulhu touched down outside the haunted house, with Jerry tumbling behind them. The trio walked the house backwards, from exit to entrance. The pathways through the house were still dark and empty, and Nick was beginning to wonder if he hadn't screwed the pooch. Then he heard the voices coming from the last corridor before the entrance. "...fifteen minutes! We've had arthritic grannies with heart conditions who complete the house in less time! No one else is going in there. I don't care if you have to call the cops, or the fire department, or the Freedom League--" The barker fell silent as Nick and Kid Cthulhu emerged from the door to the haunted house. A crowd had gathered at the sight of the barker arguing with his masked employees, who looked a bit less sinister under the bright lights of the boardwalk. "It's okay, folks," Nick said. "The maze in there just runs a bit deep, is all. It ain't bad." He gave one of his wicked grins. "Almost gave me a scare. And that says a lot."

Nick looked back to the wreckage of the casino to see the ghosts milling about and clutching their heads, as if shaking off a stupor. The wreckage of Benny's throne formed a field of black, jagged stones... which slowly molded together into a black portal. Out of it walked three men clad in black and purple robes, bearing the regal manner of a pharaoh's sarcophagus. Nick wasn't sure at this range, but he thought he could see where the straps of a mask had cut into the flesh of one's face... "Looks like Benny made some powerful enemies in the Underworld," he said. He then looked up to Kid Cthulhu. "Looks like the clean-up crew's shown up. Hit the haunted house. Without the suction effect of Benny's mojo, we should probably be able to take it out."

Benny fled across the floor of his dead kingdom, leaping over craps tables and dashing between rows of slot machines. Like before, his emotions seemed to leech out into the souls he passed -- only instead of benevolent mirth and joy, the various souls were beginning to scatter in fear. Benny was almost at the seat of his black throne when his mind was filled with the sound of a thousand dreamers shrieking in their sleep. He collapsed at the base as Nick and Kid Cthulhu caught up. "You can't do this to me," he spat out between gouts of ectoplasm. "I made this casino. It's my dream. You can't take it from me." Nick's claws coalesced out of the spirit-stuff that saturated the air around them. "It's a good dream," he said, "but its time has passed. Time to wake up." Nick drove his claws into Benny's chest, rending through ectoplasm like paper. Benny's ghost let out a scream like an air raid siren as it dissipated in a storm of light and ectoplasm, leaving nothing behind. "Huh," Nick said, examining where the ghost had been. "You'd think he would've left behind his toys. Unless..." His attention was called away by a very distinctive sound -- crumbling stone and rending metal. "KC! The casino's collapsing!"

And his Will save is a 15, so he not only takes a Bruised condition, he's stunned. Current status: Antonio Benvenuto: 22, Bruised 1, 1HP Kid Cthulhu: 12, Bruised 1, 3HP Nick Cimitiere: 11, Healthy, 1HP Now it's Nick's turn. He's reactivating Ereshkigal's Talons, and... it's a hit, especially since Antonio's Defense is down to 11 as he's Stunned. Now, Antonio has to make a DC28 Toughness... Which he decidedly does not, only scoring a 13. Goodbye, Antonio.

A sound of maddened pipers and unnatural drums cracked the air as the spell hit Benny, but he seemed to shrug it off. At least, he seemed to; who could really tell? "You think you're doing something, kid?" he said. "I've seen things, been places, you can't begin to imagine --" "Bow for judgment." The mask's expression again melted and reformed -- this time, not in anger or in joy, but in sheer and utter terror. Benny was looking down to Nick, whose mouth was stretched open. Out spat an eerie death rattle, studded through with barley distinguishable fragments of an authoritative voice. "Bones and blood... weakness and folly... your plea is meaningless here..." "No..." muttered Benny as he crept backwards on the carpet. "Not you! I took care of you! She took care of you all! This is my power, now, not yours! YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!" With that, Benny turned and ran through the gray halls of the casino, knocking over spectral patrons as he passed.

Okay, it hits, and sadly, Antonio saves with a 24. Nick will thus take the opportunity to shake him up using the Banshee's Wail. It's Perception, so it's pretty much a Will Save at this point, and... rolls a 10 against 18. Yeah, Antonio's running scared now.

Nick turned on the mobster. "Y'know, I'd hate to be stating the obvious," he said, "but it really doesn't work this way." Ectoplasm gathered in the air around him, hardening into primitive talons on his hands. "You want to stick around, fine. You want to redecorate with the essence of the Underworld, okay. But you don't get to bind anyone into your service." Nick ran towards the mobster and swiped at his mask... but Benny was too quick, stepping backwards and avoiding the claws. "These men are mine," Benny said, as the eyes on his mask began to glow. "My customers. My soldiers. My... servants. This is not your place to speak of such things. You will show me some respect." All Nick could do, however, was laugh. "Not my place, huh?" he said. "Old man, this is my goddamn playground!"

Okay, so Nick activates Ereshkigal's Talons, takes a swipe... and misses, as Antonio's Defense of 20 beats his attack of 18. Now it's Antonio's turn, as he unleashes the power of despair... which doesn't quite work, as Nick handily makes his Will save. KC, you're up.

All right, Antonio's up on the order. He's firing off an energy Blast against KC's 18 Defense... and hits on a 21. KC, make a DC25 Toughness Save.

The mobster's mask did not shift so much as change -- where once had been a picture of benevolence was now a man bellowing in rage. "You dare attack me in my palace?" he yelled as black lightning began to spark across the points of his crown. "You sniveling sons-of-bitches! I was walking the Boardwalk when you were still in diapers!" He raised the scepter, which was now covered in roiling shadows. "I built this place with my bones! With my sweat and my blood! YOU WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME!" The black fire burst from the scepter and struck Kid Cthulhu across the chest, mingling with and, in places, dampening his green fire.