Thunder King

John knew what his target was. The circus. He would head over there as soon as he could, to sort this business out. He had to leave the purple stuff where it was, having neither the training nor the tools to clean it up. So, John took off to head toward the Primal Fear circus and figure things out.

Current events 20 Search 28 Well that's convenient.

John had to move quickly. These gorilla people were a danger, based on the aggression the truck driver had showed. He charged up to one and punched them hard in the face, knocking them down. Then he turned around quickly and elbowed another directly in the abdomen, before switching targets again and kicking another in the side of the head. Finally, he moved over to a fourth one and, with a quick punch to the side of the head, knocked them flat. He needed to clear this up, quickly.

Sever "Holy...%$#@." To Ryan, Fiji were a concept. not a place. It was as real as Disney World. Sure, it existed, but the idea of ever going there was entirely alien to him. The furthest he had ever been from home was one time on a school trip to Washington DC. California, Florida, these were places he might visit one day if he ever got into a band. He was the last through the portal, eager to visit a faraway place, as Lawrence had hinted. He had a small backpack with a couple of pairs of shorts, a pair of swim trunks, and a few t-shirts. He also brought, on a whim, his newish acoustic guitar. It had been a gift from one of the workers at the orphanage. It was not an expensive guitar, but it did the job, and it was in a case he had slung over his back. "Hi, um, I'm Ryan. Nice to..." At that point, he noticed the pretty, bikini clad redhead lounging by the pool. He corrected his gaze and looked away without lingering. "Nice to meet all of you."

Added flat-footed, changed the formatting to explain what's actually in the device. I didn't realize I could array the Strike with the Blast until you pointed it out, but I think I'm fine the way it is. I know it would save on points, but I'm okay with it.

John's gonna take a swipe at one of the Gorilla people, to start the process of getting them put down; 13 Probably isn't enough.

Player Name: Thunder King Character Name: Sever Power Level: 7 (105/109) Unspent Power Points: 4 Trade-Offs: -2 Attack / ±2 Damage, none for defense In Brief: Teenage swordsman with a space sword Alternate Identity: Ryan Jacobs (Secret) Birthplace: Freedom City Residence: Claremont Academy Base of Operations: Claremont Academy Family: He has no idea Description: Age: 16 DOB: October 13th, 2007 Gender: M Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 6’2” Weight: 180 Eyes: Gray Hair: Dark brown (when it isn’t dyed black, red, blue or green) Ryan is fairly tall and fairly muscular. He has shaggy dark hair and silver eyes. He's fond of dyeing his hair when he can, though it's usually black. It has been blue, green and red before. Everything he owns is a hand me down, all of his clothing. Some of it doesn't fit quite right. He’s used to hard work and looks like it, sometimes coming across as looking a bit older than his sixteen years. His costume consists of a black t-shirt, a domino mask held on by spirit gum, jeans and combat boots. He also has a sword belt for the Star Blade. When the weather is cool, he wears a denim jacket over his t-shirt. The Star Blade (his name) is a cruciform sword that fits comfortably in one or two hands, with a plain, golden crossguard and simple disc shaped pommel. The hilt is wrapped in a strange material no one can recognize. When the sword is held up in darkness and looked at carefully, it shows the night sky as if one was looking straight up on a clear night. It does not emit any light, and this function has no apparent use. History: Ryan’s first memories are at an orphanage in Freedom City. As far as he was told, a young woman with no support network gave him up as soon as he was born. He fell through the cracks in the system and stayed at the orphanage. He had a few friends over the years, and the caretakers varied in quality, but on the whole, for an orphan, he didn’t have it too bad. Then, there was Uncle Charlie. Charlie was an older man who came around to the foster kids to play music for them. Everybody called him Uncle Charlie, even the staff. It was Charlie that taught Ryan about music. It was Charlie that sparked his passion for the guitar. It was Charlie that taught him how to play. It was Charlie who gave him his first guitar, and his first amp. That guitar was Ryan’s prized possession. If the orphanage had caught fire, Charlie would have run through the smoke and flames to fetch it. Uncle Charlie had, once upon a time, been in a band. He had been a member of a couple of local punk and metal bands through the late 70s through mid 80s, and when his career didn’t take off, he went to college, cleaned himself up, and got a job. Uncle Charlie had a family that he went home to after every visit to the orphanage. Uncle Charlie died when Ryan was 14 years old. Uncle Charlie’s wife, a lovely woman he only met once before in his life, came by the orphanage to tell the kids that he had passed away. She explained that he’d grown up in the exact same orphanage, and wanted to pass along his love of music. She met with Ryan personally, and handed him one of Uncle Charlie’s guitars. It wasn’t the starter guitar that Uncle Charlie had given him, but the kind real touring musicians would use on the road. She explained that he actually owned over a dozen guitars, and that he had asked for one to be given to Ryan. She said that if, somehow, Ryan ever made it as a musician, ever got in a real band and played a real show, that he should play that guitar. Ryan has never played the guitar. He’s kept it safe, he’s kept it in the case she gave him, but he’s never so much as strummed it. Eventually, Ryan was able to earn money by getting a regular job at a fast food place. The first thing he did was save up for a proper guitar, so he could keep the ones he got from Uncle Charlie safe. On November 15th, 2023, Ryan was outside the orphanage when an object fell out of the sky and landed in front of him. It struck the ground, but left no crater. Instead, it stabbed into the ground. It was a sword, with a shining metal blade and a golden crossguard. The hilt was wrapped in a material that Ryan did not recognize. The moment it landed, Ryan felt a strange pull towards it. Despite himself, and the warning from the people nearby, he picked it up. He instantly understood. This was his sword.He did not know how or why, but it was definitely his sword. The staff tried to take it from him, but he took it back. He found that he was tougher and faster while he had the sword, even if he wasn’t currently holding it. Eventually, one of the staff at the orphanage (who had a son at Claremont a few years prior) called the school to inform them of a student who had a sword from space. The cover story was that Ryan was selected for a school for talented performers, due to his skill with the guitar. Everyone knew that Ryan was a good guitarist, so they bought the story without issue. Personality & Motivation: As an orphan, Ryan is acutely aware of the unfairness of the world and his place in it. As a result, he has a well developed sense of injustice and unfairness. He never considered being a superhero before the sword came to him, but now he’s seriously interested. Before, becoming a musician felt like his only way out of the system, but he sees Claremont as an opportunity, even if he doesn’t become a hero. He's mostly a respectful young man, but he has had very few real friends, and it shows. Powers & Tactics: Ryan is an athletic, intelligent young man who barely understands how to use the sword he has. It is a very powerful weapon, but he’s very new to swordplay. He’s used to getting into scraps with the other kids at the orphanage, and has won more fights than he’s lost. So when forced into a fight, relies on his enhanced physiology to keep him safe, get him into position, and his limited swordsmanship to bridge the gap. Power Descriptions: Ryan’s teleport consists of him slashing a hole in the air and then hopping through it. It doesn’t even need to look large enough to fit his body through it. His ranged attack consists of him slashing the air and cutting from the other side. He knows he could do more with the sword’s spatial powers, but he has yet to learn any of them. Ryan can slide the sword into a dimensional pocket, or out of it, at will if he needs it. All of the spatial tears produced by the sword look like cut shaped windows into whatever place he’s cut a hole to. Except for the dimensional pocket, which is pitch black. Complications: Anti-Authoritarian: Ryan is well aware of how unfair the system is. He might run his mouth in front of authority figures. Except for Claremont staff, because he knows how much he needs the staff. Room to Move: Ryan’s teleport and ranged abilities both require that he has enough room around him to cut at the air. In tight quarters, he might find it impossible Itchy Brain: He’s practically addicted to the sword. If it’s not at least in the dimensional pocket for more than about an hour, he starts feeling that he needs to retrieve it. The absence causes him to feel irritable and testy. GMs should feel free to impose whatever minor penalties make sense, such as to Diplomacy rolls, to illustrate the effect of the sword’s absence. For the purpose of this complication, the dimensional pocket is considered in his possession. Power Loss (Loss of Sword): If Ryan finds himself without the sword for more than about six hours, his powers start to leave him. His agility and endurance weaken slowly. It takes about 24 hours for the powers to leave him completely. The dimensional pocket is considered to be in his possession. Abilities: 6 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 6 = 26PP Strength: 16 (+3) Dexterity: 22/14 (+6/+2) Constitution: 24/14 (+7/+2) Intelligence: 14 (+2) Wisdom: 12 (+1) Charisma: 16 (+3) Combat: 6 + 8 = 14PP Initiative: +6 Attack: +5 Melee, +3 Ranged, +5 Ranged Slash Defense: +7 (+4 Base, +3 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Grapple: +8 Knockback: -3 Saving Throws: 0 + 0 + 4 = 4PP Toughness: +7 (+7 Con) Fortitude: +7 (+7 Con, +0) Reflex: +6 (+6 Dex, +0) Will: +5 (+1 Wis, +4) Skills: 20R = 5PP Acrobatics 6 (+12) Knowledge Pop Culture 7 (+9) Perform Stringed Instruments 7 (+10) Feats: 14PP Accurate Attack Acrobatic Bluff Attack Focus Melee 2 Attack Specialization (Long Range Cut) Challenge; Fast Acrobatic Bluff Dodge Focus 3 Evasion 2 Luck Power Attack Takedown Attack Powers: 10 + 8 + 17 + 3 + 4 = 42PP *All Powers have the Magic descriptor, the attack powers also have the Slashing descriptor. Enhanced Constitution 10 (10PP) Enhanced Dexterity 8 (8PP) Device 5 (Star Blade) {Easy to Lose, Only usable by Ryan}: 17 PP Strike 6 (Mighty), 6PP Blast 6 (Mighty 3) 15PP’ (Ranged Cut) Teleport 1 (100 ft) 2PP Feature 1 (Can store sword and scabbard in a dimensional pocket) Speed 3 {50 mph, 440 ft per round} (3PP) Super-Movement 2 {Wall Crawling 2} (4PP) DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Sword Touch DC 24 Toughness Damage Ranged Cut Ranged DC 24 Toughness Damage Unarmed Touch DC 18 Toughness Damage Totals: Abilities (26) + Combat (14) + Saving Throws (4) + Skills (5) + Feats (14) + Powers (42) - Drawbacks (0) = 105/109 Power Points

Crimson Tiger shrugged. "That's a little harder on me, but I'm not without options." She reached behind her and pulled out a small device that immediately folded out into a circle, a chakram. She spotted a target off in a corner for just such an occasion, and whipped the chakram toward the target, sticking it in dead center. "I've got a few things I can do. Plus I do have some contacts in the hero community, both former Claremont students and otherwise." Like the castle on a skyscraper full of super powered women, or the super wealthy energy absorbing super strong guy, or any number of other people she'd met over the years that she could call in for emergencies.

21 on Initiative

Mali turned to Consuelo. The kid definitely was off-putting, but based on what Mali was told, it wasn't her fault. So she did her level best to ignore it. "Personally, I always try to ensure the safety of any civilians before I engage. That's not always possible. I'll readily admit, I am not the best at talking criminals down with words. I tend to, you know, use other methods. But yeah, I do agree that disarming them is better than harming them directly, when possible."

John took note of the phone number on the back of the truck and committed it to memory. He wouldn't be calling it, but, rather, he'd be looking it up online to see if he could figure out what company it was. Whatever this chemical was, he didn't want the suppliers to be warned of his approach. "Folks, back away from the wreckage. There's a dangerous chemical, and you need to get away." He said, remembering his cop voice from when he served.

John growled to himself. He gave the man money for coffee, and he was getting drunk. Well, that was pointless. He resolved to do something else. He would wander back over to the truck and try to see if he could figure out who the man worked for, and maybe figure out the source of the gorillas from there. He headed toward the door and left the man to his drinking. He did after all almost crash his truck while transformed into an angry gorilla. If anything drove someone to drink, it would be that.

A short while later, John opened the door to find Eileen relaxed on the bed. He placed a bag full of food on the desk, and another bag with some drinks beside it. "Got a couple different drink options, no booze. Need to stay alert." He said. He pulled a styrofoam container out of the box and handed it to her, before grabbing the other one and sitting at the desk. He grabbed a bottle of Coke from the bag and started eating.

John nodded. "This coat looks like it's seen better days, but it still keeps me warm. I know of a decent Indian place a few blocks away. At my speed I can get it and come back without any issues." He pulled out his burner phone and dialed a number. "Hi, yes, I'd like an order of your chicken vindaloo, and an order of tikka masala. Also, an order of your naan. Thank you, thank you. Twenty minutes? I'll be there. Order under John." He hung up and walked toward the door. "I'll be back shortly." He said. He opened the door, and took off towards the restaurant.

If these mutant rats weren't going to mess with John, and they weren't going to start a fire, he wasn't going to mess with them. He needed to find the trucker and ask him more questions, if he could find the guy. Giant gorilla rats. He really hoped they couldn't reproduce, or that the mutation would wear off soon. However, while he could just go stomp on them, he knew that he needed to sort out the source of this...apification. Or whatever was happening. So he ignored the rodents to track down the driver.

John let his shoulders slump slightly. "Honestly, couldn't tell you. I just focus on the mission, I guess. I do help people from time to time. But this place does wear on you from time to time." He stared off into space. He hadn't opened up to anyone in years. He had no friends, just the occasional ally. "Most people are afraid of me, if they've heard of me. Which is useful if it's a mugger. The other day a guy just dropped his knife and ran when I landed next to him and the old man he was trying to rob. He didn't get very far. It's not easy when the cops can't even hold them for very long. Not like the cops in this town are much better." He was getting dangerously close to opening up, so he took a deep breath, steadied himself, and just stood there. "You can take the bed. I'll take the chair. I've slept in worse. After we get in, I'll go get takeout. I haven't eaten much today, have you?"

John chuckled slightly. "I don't date." He said. "Too many issues." They stepped into the motel's lobby. A middle aged man sat behind the desk, looking about as excited as the clerk at a motel would be in the context. John fetched his wallet. "One night, please." He said. "Whatever you've got." Then, he slid another bill across the desk. "Your cleanest room, please." The clerk took the cash for the room and started making a key card. Then he took the other cash, smiled, and said. He looked at Eileen, seemingly carefully. However, it was clear he was just observing her outfit. She didn't seem to be a lady of the night, so his interest waned immediately. "No problem sir. Room 320. Third floor. One of our best rooms." John nodded to Eileen. "Okay, so, let's just go see what we've got."

John was not his real name. However, so few people called him by name regardless, so it warmed his heart a bit. Luckily, he was well protected from the cold. His coat, as ragged as it was, never let the cold in. He was grateful for it's protection. It didn't take too long to cross town. He found the hotel and they landed beside it, a few yards away. He walked towards it. "We're on a date." He said. "We're both nervous, we've never done this before. We don't need to say it, but that should cover any nerves we're feeling."

John walked briskly into the alley, then he threw her onto his back and took off running. He jumped into the air with her on his back. He climbed up the building nearby, scaling it quickly. As soon as he reached the roof, he took off running, jumping between buildings, trying his best to put difference between them and the figures following her. "I know of a safehouse we can hide out in on the other side of town. A motel, no-tell type. They'll take cash and they won't ask questions."

John backed away from the truck, slowly. He hoped that whatever this new thing was, they'd come towards him and not cause any further damage, as he was not wanting to know what would happen if a spark went off. Now that the driver away from the area, he felt a little better about what might happen, but he was still quite nervous about the situation. He was durable, and not afraid to die, but he wasn't that durable, and he knew he wouldn't be the only one hurt if something happened.

Crimson Tiger stared at the reassembling bag, then shook her head. "Very impressive. You guys are doing fine." She held her hand up and made a fist, slowly. "That's how you do a fist. I don't think you guys will be at risk of needing to fight without your powers, but it can't hurt." She smiled at Consuelo. "I've seen people destroy equipment worse than that. Don't worry. You're doing just fine. I know you haven't done much fighting with raw strength. You're all just new." She seemed to stare off into the distance. "I came here when I was your age. Had some good friends, made a lot of good memories. And punched a lot of people."

John cursed under his breath. "Sir, I am, well, not a professional, but I'm probably a lot tougher and stronger than you, so I recommend backing away from the truck. Who were you hauling for?" He asked. He put himself between the driver and the truck, and would make a mental note of whoever hired him to track down the cause. He was worried about another animalistic attacker. He slipped a small handful of cash, about fifty bucks, into the man's hand. "Go get yourself a meal, a cup of coffee, and maybe a new outfit on me while I figure out what's going on."

John put his arm around her and lead her toward a nearby alleyway. He whispered into her ear, looking for all the world like a man whispering into his lover's ear. He was gentle with her. He knew she was a strong woman, but he also knew she was being followed. She was an ally. She needed help. That was all he needed to know. "As soon as we get out of sight, I'm going to pick you up and run and jump as fast and as high as I can to get us far away from these guys."

"I don't know what happened. You somehow transformed into a gorilla, or something. I don't know. I got you out of the truck, though, so you're safe, now. Let's get you a cup of coffee or something." John chuckled. "And maybe some new clothes." He was planning on asking the man some questions, but for now, getting him safe and warm was more important.

John got the text on his own burner phone, and realized who it was from. If she was being tailed, that was bad news. He took off running at top speed towards downtown. he had ridden busses from that stop on a number of occasions, and knew exactly where he was going. A few minutes later, he got near the bus stop and slowed down before he appeared before her, looking more like he had jogged up from just a bit away than like he had run miles in a few minutes. "Hey." He said. "Sorry I was late. Wanna grab coffee?"