trollthumper

After talking it out with EP, he has decided to keep JETTE on rescue duty. There are still a few people trapped in the building, but you've managed to get quite a few out already. So, that's Round 1 down. Lady Horus: 27, Unharmed Angel of Death: 20, Bruised x1 Wadjet: 13, Unharmed Arrowhawk II: 10, Unharmed JETTE: 3, Unharmed I believe Lady Horus is up next.

The grim specter cast its unblinking eyes over the street. It seemed to fix on Arrowhawk's divine profile for half a second... before trailing back towards the woman in the pantsuit. She raised the dagger, pointing the blade towards herself and the hilt towards the angel of death. "By the name of the Maiden and the whispers of the twilight lands, I rebuke thee, specter, and drive thee back --" If the angel heard her words, it paid them no heed. Its blade shined with the color of midnight as it charged forward, swiping down on her. What should have been a massacre turned into a terrible show of light, however. The angel was driven back, its steps unsteady as its blade collided with seemingly empty air. The woman, however, seemed to take the worse of the blow, slamming back against the wall of the building, blood streaming from her nose. However, she still stood on both feet, if somewhat unsteady. "It... heh... will take more than that to undo me, spirit..."

So, let's see if I can put this together: Lady Horus: 27, Unharmed Angel of Death: 20, Unharmed Wadjet: 13, Unharmed Arrowhawk II: 10, Unharmed JETTE: 3, Unharmed Lady Horus is first and will be rescuing civilians. She manages to get the guy above her, as well as others - feel free to describe that. The Angel of Death tries to go for the old woman... and going by the 9 + 12, he succeeds. However, she's not dead, but she's not happy, either. Wadjet manages to beat the Angel's Defense DC and hits, but with the 13 + 12, the Angel manages to withstand the attack. She also beats the illusion and sees beyond the spookshow to see an armored monstrosity. How familiar is Esperanza with Omegadrones? Arrowhawk, meanwhile, hits on her first attack (using the Axe, by assumption that the Omegadrone charges with its pike). As that's a 7 + 12, the Angel takes its first Bruised. EP, before I move the scene forward - the Angel went for the old woman instead of Arrowhawk. Will you intervene to attack it?

We may be dealing with alien crafts, but maybe Cannonade could find a weak spot somewhere with his special skills: Craft (structural): 12. Profession (steelworker): 18. And with Skill Mastery on Notice, there will be a 20 to Notice anything weird.

In a second, the screaming was gone from Eve and Daphne's heads. For Eve, it was like surging from the bottom of the ocean to the surface in seconds. She reached, grasping across the floor, trying to find some purchase. For Eliza, the screaming had just begun. Great and terrible moans echoed from the outer darkness, as the things outside - spirits never moored to any firmament, never shaped and tempered by duty, faith, and purpose - slid across the surface of the DuTemps Building, trying to gain some form of purchase. For Kimber and Daphne, the fear had vanished, only to be replaced by something more... piercing. There was the flicker of mortal terror outside, the death-scream of a mouse right before an owl swoops down on it, a hundred times over, swirling in the more isolated folds of the hungry abyss. And then, it was all gone. The darkness prevailed for half a second in the building before the emergency generators kicked on. The windows, once cloaked by shadows, now looked out onto an endless meadow of red flowers, cast faintly by the dim lights of the DuTemps Building. They were soon enfolded by further darkness, under a sky with no moon and endless stars. Eliza stepped to the window, not recognizing anything of the land below her. "Where... where's Freedom?"

All right, here we go, right in the thick of it. The "Angel" will be based on AA's Harrier build - for some reason - with the following modifications: -There is no "No More Holding Back" Container. This thing is strictly PL12. -The "Angel" is currently under the effects of an Illusion 8 (visual, audio, olfactory) that makes it look like some horrible specter. You'll need to make a DC18 Will save to disbelieve and see what's under it. So, in keeping with speeding this up, let's do three rounds of actions each. Right now, Jette is floating above the ruined building and can see the stranded civilians who may need to get out - and can also see the row starting on the street. Lady Horus is on the first floor, under the crumbling corridors, and can see desperate people right above her - but she's also likely heard the noise outside and can turn to see the "angel" in the street. And Arrowhawk... well, is right in front of the horrid thing. And, to speed it up further, the first 10 d20 rolls from the "Angel": 9, 13, 7, 4, 19, 7, 5, 1, 5, 11 Given that the first one will likely be Initiative, the "Angel" is going on 20. Let's resolve Initiative first. For each round, you can post a "primary" action - what you'd do if nothing else cropped up/an opportunity does not present itself - and some "auxiliary" actions, for if something comes up. Like, "First round, I am rescuing civilians; second round, I am attacking the 'angel,' UNLESS further damage is inflicted on the building and someone else is in danger..." I can tap you in Discord to see if you want to alter the order of operations, if need be.

The brickwork crumbled further as Lady Horus's hammer blow sent reverberations throughout the building. The first thing she noticed upon entry was the smell. It was a thick melange of the unpleasant - gas leaks, particulate, and, off in the distance, blood. But there was something that cut through it all - a smell like ozone and fresh winter snow, cold and stinging. On the ground floor, residents were emerging from their apartments. Some were half in a daze, as if trying to figure out what had happened; others had already registered the situation and were running, almost trampling the others in the process. The sound of cracking brick filled Lady Horus's ears, and a second later, the ruins of the second floor hallway came down where she had been standing. Someone hung onto the edge of the shattered floor by his fingertips, as above him, the other corridors came tumbling down... --- Jette had a vantage point as the taller floors of the brownstone fell to the sides. The side alleys had been narrow, and the buildings on either side offered support - but it wouldn't be for long. That much was obvious. People stood, looking out into the void, trying to find ways down. With the building in its current position, navigating the fire escapes would be a feat only suitable for gymnasts. Two things caught Jette's attention. The first was the thing flying past her, too fast for her to register fully. The second was where it had come from - an old apartment, plastered in decor that look like it came from a statelier era, as if somebody had excised a tea room from a Victorian mansion and stuck it in a two-bedroom. The finery had been reduced to ruin, however. The furniture was in splinters, the walls were covered in scorch marks, and blood ran across the floor. The source was obvious - an old woman, perhaps in the late 70s, her face locked in fury and her chest reduced to a burned ruin. --- Arrowhawk strode forward through the tide of humanity, trying to get in and aid Lady Horus before she did something truly stupid. Before she could, however, she felt a hand tugging at her jacket. She spun around to find a woman in her early 60s, with raven hair, a red pantsuit, and... a silver dagger strapped to her belt. "You!" she said. "Godling. I know you can best it. They've gone mad, mad with the thirst for annihilation. They don't know what they deal with. Their angels are broken. They --" A loud, metallic crunch cut off the woman's tirade. Followed shortly by the screaming. Behind her, Osla could see the thing that had landed in the street. Its armor was black as pitch. Its wings fanned out much further than one might expect, tipped with silver, glistening blades that almost resembled feathers. Its plate was covered in a hundred eyes that seemed to close and shut behind hardened lenses. And its face was bedecked in a pattern that resembled a bloody-eyed skull. And around it hung an aura like the grave - the flicker of ectoplasm, the hush of desperate whispers, the smell of grave-dirt... "Stay, angel!" said the woman, black energy crackling from her hands. "Stay and return to your side of the grave!"

Cannonade wanted to rush them. He wanted to do more than that, in fact. He wanted to grab the first of them and use it as a club, beating the others until they were faint smears. He wanted to rip his fingers into the armor and pull until the drone's spinal column came apart like string cheese. He wanted to show them what annihilation was like, up close and personal. But there was no room for suicide. He had to think about Asli. He had to think about the League. He had to think about his family. His family... Most importantly, he had to think about the people in front of him. If he got reduced to a smoking, noble crater by leaping in, then there went the plan. He looked to the others. "They wouldn't bring 'em here if they didn't have a reason to be here - and given everything that machine's doing, I doubt they're here for slave labor. We're going to need to get the people out, but we also need to make sure that machine's crippled so they can't bring the next wave of cannon fodder around. How do we do that?"

Arrowhawk II, Lady Horus, Wadjet, and Jette get caught in a cult conflict between homegrown annihilation and outsourced annihilation.

Stark Hill July 12, 2018 The world was on fire. But it took a long time for the ashes to reach some places. While the sky bled crimson and the towers of the capes burned off on the East Coast, Bedlam was in a state of gridlock. There was doomsaying, but only at a somewhat greater pitch at any other day. The Mayor had already talked about getting the National Guard ready to deploy, but word was the Governor was holding off until there was tangible evidence that the threat had gotten beyond Lake Erie - and even then, odds were he would be much more interested in anywhere that wasn't Bedlam. The Special Assault Squad was in the streets in force, but they seemed to be taking their exercise dealing with desperate and fervid individuals hoping to take advantage of an all-you-can-grab, end-of-the-world sale. And so, the morning of July 12 dawned in Stark Hill as it had any other day. With the blood being hosed into the gutters, with the rise of an oppressive heat fed by the winds off of Lake Michigan, with Obedieh Brick on the 12th hour of "BREAKING NEWS," screaming about the need to grab the biggest gun one could and use it as the ultimate deterrent against the death gods from outer space. The haze and the fury was growing, but it was the same haze and fury as might be expected as Bedlam approached the dog days of summer. That is, until the brownstone on 3rd Street was cut in half. Those who were nearby would say it started as a "flash of black light," a half-second glimmer of palpable darkness. Curiosity turned to panic as the sound of crumbling brick and creaking steel filled the air, as gravity took hold on the building and rent it like a hunk of bread, causing it to list and tilt towards the buildings at either side. And from within, there was still that glimpse of brilliant darkness...

The DuTemps Building gets removed from the Invasion in a fairly decisive fashion. Fair warning from your GM: I am dealing with a fair bit. My executive dysfunction is rampaging. If I do not keep this thread moving for at least a day since everyone has gone, POKE ME WITH A STICK.

The DuTemps Building July 10th, 2018 10:59 AM Before the sky bled, Temperance was taken in by the city below. Things were tranquil, and she wasn't quite sure where they'd go next. She and Sharl were still happy in their relationship. They weren't necessarily making any moves towards any particular destinations, but they were okay with standing in the middle ground. She had just graduated from college, and while she was putting herself out on the job market, she was still experiencing that difficulty of having a good - but not incredible - GPA and some internship experience. Maybe I'll put my "night work" on the resume and see how many heads explode. There was peace. There was quiet. There was a city below, remembering what was lost and celebrating the victory that had been gained through great sacrifice. She stood on the lip of a castle in the sky, wondering how her life had gotten to this point, and where it might go next. Then the screaming began. In a hundred different voices, from boiling asphalt to sparking power lines. Her phone went off in her hand. A message from her father. THE CITY IS GOING MAD. RUN. Before she could even more, a great red rent was torn in the sky, and a swarm of steel locusts descended. She ran to the lip of the building, struck dumb for half a second, before she got a good look... No. Oh, gods, no. She ran back into the building, reaching for her phone to send out a mass blast to the group. UNDER ATTACK. TERMINUS.

I need to tie down a few things, but I'm pretty much ready.

I will be offering up a thread for members of the DuTemps crew, as well as a thread for Bedlam folks. As for who I'd put through the fire... I'm prefer to put either Nick Cimitiere or Cannonade on the front lines.

That was a screw-up on my part. Correcting the IC.

Temperance arrived in some simple, light clothes for the late spring. The heavier parts of her costume were in the bag, her navy blue Doc Martens were covered under her pant legs, and a bottle of water from which she could craft her mask. She stopped at the counter, picking up a cappuccino and a slice of tuxedo cake before doubling back to the table. "Glad to see you again," she said, looking to Miss Grue. She turned to the others. "As for you, I don't think we've met yet. I went by NiceIceQueen on the Discord group. My name is Temperance. I've been trying to listen to the spirits for insight into this situation. I've got contacts out looking for more intel; hopefully, they'll be able to drop me a line soon."

Kn: Arcane Lore is a 26 Gather Info is a 27. Clearly, I have learned the secret of folding space and know all things, all times.

Temperance would probably be a good fit for Case 3.

Eliza looked over the responses, glad to see the traction the discussion was getting. She was trying to figure out how to respond to being labeled "the magic one," however. I mean... technically speaking... maybe we should have a census form for this whole thing. "Willworker," check box A. "Other," check box B.

The Anointer looked at Hyperslice. It was hard to gaze his expression at first, especially with the blinding heat and light surrounding him. But soon she realized it was a sort of study - as if, even with the wisdom of the gods behind him, he had never seen the likes of her. Still, if he seemed perturbed, he at least had the grace not to make it obvious. "I will do what has been decreed of me," he says. "I shall address them. I shall display my might with mercy. I shall give them the chance to surrender. Those was charge me... shall face the wrath of Olaya."

It seems like that's his intent, yes.

I'd be up for getting involved. Could contribute Nick Cimitiere's necromancy, Temperance's animist talents, or Cannonade's face-punching skills.

Archived at player request.

Temperance had broken away from her term paper to look over the site. It had been some time since she'd last crossed paths with Terrifica - and, in all honesty, her studies had taken up a lot of her time. She was still hitting the streets, of course, but somehow, superhero socialization had taken a backseat to the dreaded drive to pursue the Honor Roll. But arranging matters from the safety of her apartment would work... #general #HeroStuff

"I think we've pretty much committed to 'terrible,'" said Cavalier, watching Derendis fall away behind him. "We're now at the point of avoiding 'clusterfragg.' Cover's blown, this city's seen enough 'miracles' to last a lifetime... we just need to make sure that the fire's relatively contained." No matter how much we might want it to just run free and burn it all down. As the four took to the sky and approached the pillar of light, they soon realized that it was more of an arc, trailing towards a long plateau. And, in time... slowing. Paradigm, with her distant senses, was first to see the man at the heart of the blinding light - or at least, the silhouette of him. He seemed to be looking down - towards Hyperslice, who was rocketing up to meet him. The voice landed in Hyperslice's ears. It was strange - it did not feel like she was hearing it at a distance, or even inside her head. It was as if the man was whispering in her ear, even though he was clearly some distance from her. "Who are you that travels through the gifts of the gods?"