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Thunder King

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About Thunder King

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    That One Guy
  • Birthday 07/19/1984

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  1. John stepped forward quickly, closing distance in a blur. His was a practical fighting style, with basic punches, each one strong enough to crack concrete. He pivoted and swung hard at the 'officer' slamming his fist into the side of his head. John had no idea what this guy was or what his deal was, but punches seemed to affect him at least somewhat.
  2. 23 on an attack. John is going to move in and try to punch Officer Friendly.
  3. Okay, toughness roll; 10 haha, no. That's death. Try that again. Burning an HP to not die. 27 Boom!
  4. John jumped to his feet like a shot. He cracked his neck and stretched a bit even as he started walking towards the car. He looked far less injured than someone hit by a car should. His gait was almost casual, deliberately underselling the danger he could be in. This enemy was unnatural, and he knew it. Arrowhawk got the worst of it, he could tell. "Thanks for cracking my back for me." He said, stretching a couple more times as he closed the distance to stand next to Mr. Strix. "Been bugging me for days. Must have slept on it wrong." His stance and mannerisms changed completely, and he practically growled out. "So you gonna come out and get your ass handed to you, or what?"
  5. 23 For Acrobatics, to Instant Up. With that taken care of, John is gonna go for intimidate, maybe seeing him get up after being hit by a car will help the attempt; 26 This is to demoralize the driver
  6. Option 2, try to tank the car. 21 For the initial impact 14 Ehh, gonna burn an HP to save that; 9 That becomes a 19 then. 16 For Initiative, too
  7. Adam would have blushed, but he couldn't. Instead he did look bashful. "Thank you." He said. He offered his hand. "Would you like to dance?" Adam was not graceful, but he could manage to at least pretend to not be totally awful. Or at least, he hoped not to be that much more awful than anyone else. She was beautiful, and he felt incredibly self-conscious. He knew, distantly, that they didn't look bad together. His face was relatively scar and blemish free, but she was something else. He needed to keep his head on straight and his eyes on hers. Be polite, he thought to himself. Be polite.
  8. "Must be a supernatural cause, otherwise, this makes no sense." John said, looking at the scene intently. He knew of superheroes, of course. Bedlam had it's own supernatural residents, visible beneath the surface. He wondered how the gangs and thugs would feel, knowing that people like the man in white were in town. He could not, however, puzzle this out. So he began to search for yet more clues. You had to exhaust all evidence at the scene of the crime first, after all. Specifically, he focused on the tracks, and the wall. He didn't question how the man in white knew who's blood it was. Probably a side effect of his own strange abilities.
  9. Girlfriend is coming in for Thanksgiving as of Tuesday. Probably won't be on Discord until Saturday at the earliest. If anyone needs to reach me, please send me a PM here on site so I'll get it.
  10. "The killer was pale, possibly pure white, with a massive, inhuman mouth." John said. "I don't know what kind of thing it was." He paced, briefly, looking around. He was trying to piece something sane together out of all of this. He shook his head. "Hits are usually cold, brutal, but quick. Don't want to linger, don't want to be seen. Whoever did this didn't care. May have been trying to send a message. This doesn't look like anything I've seen before." He couldn't wrap his head around a motive, or a killer. Not yet, at least. "Canvas the area? That sounds like a good idea." He looked around the area. "Someone probably saw something. Here's hoping they're inclined to talk."
  11. Adam kept his thoughts to himself. Leroy was a lot better at negotiations and discussions than he was. He was not the diplomatic one. He hoped Pan and Jack could find the book, because Adam was at a loss for words. He needed to confer with the others about what was happening, what was going to happen and what needed to happen. He felt mostly useless, struggling to think of something to do in this unusual situation. Ah, well, he'd lend his muscle or mind to whatever effort they needed.
  12. "Deaths produce powerful spiritual impressions." John said. "I can enter a sort of trance-like state, giving me visions of the death. Those visions are the impressions left by someone, either killer or victim. They're usually pretty scrambled, making it hard to figure out what's happening in them." He was certain that would raise more questions than he was prepared to answer, but he didn't care. This case was a strange one, and he could use some cooperation. Frankly, neither of them were quite in the range of human ability anyway. He had his own questions about their behavior.
  13. Adam Adam was late. Not excessively, just slightly. He hated any sort of lateness. A lifetime of living on a schedule had given him a unique appreciation for promptness. He'd been reading in his tux and totally forgot when the dance started. Luckily, he was fast. So as Monica wandered in after her rather abrupt entrance, Adam walked meekly in behind her. He was wearing a tuxedo. Nothing fancy or outlandish, with a silver vest and bow tie. His hair, or, rather, wig, was combed neatly for once. With that said, the tux was effective. He looked trim, sharp, and well put together. He felt a lot less self conscious than normal, and was very glad that there was no scarring visible on his face. He felt confident, assured and calm. Then he saw Lulu, and he swore his mind hit a glitch. There she was, sweet, kind, and beautiful. She was always beautiful, of course, but in the light of the dance, his feet rooted in place. "Screw it, fortune favors the bold." He mumbled to himself before stepping towards Lulu. He smiled his best smile and hoped it was his best, then inclined his head, doing his level best not to scan her from head to toe. "You look beautiful tonight." He managed, hoping not to sound as awkward as he felt.
  14. "We're not looking for a human. At least, not a normal one." John said. He himself was unnatural, so the fact the man in white didn't seem to be breathing vapor didn't bother him. He'd met all manner of freaks in Bedlam, and the rumor mill conjured terrors from thin air. He was alive, but somehow moreso, or not at all. He wasn't an expert on medicine or the supernatural. However, he was a former cop, and that training was very useful, especially here.
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