Bishop

Very cool... So, he does his reflex roll, DC 22. (1d20+7=14) and fails. Go ahead and post it.

I would think that it would be as hard to twist as to remove, but I'm game. If you can spec up a suitable attack, go for it. What are your thoughts on representing your attack mechanically? The hat twisting thing sounds like a dazzle to me. Also, you don't seem to have any hero points to stunt with right now, but this sounds too funny not to try, so have a hero point to give it a shot. :)

Excellent. I'll edit in the result and then you're up!

The Marshal gave a quick nod of agreement to the feline hero and took aim at the suspect's head. He yelled out to the marauding viking-wanna-be. "Hey! Give it up now, or it's gonna get real messy!" Well, it sounded pretty impressive, but his warning fell on deaf ears. The raging slab-swinger didn't even seem to notice the Space Cowboy. The Marshal muttered something under his breath and opened fire, but the sizzling bright-blue energy bolt was wide of its mark. With a growl of anger, the Helmeted Berserker let go of the slab and grabbed for Jubatus' ankles, but our speedy kitty was a bit too speedy for him, and Jubatus slipped through his fingers.

Yep yep... Seems to me the "Easy to Lose" flaw is less and less of a flaw the stronger you are. And in situations like this where strength might not be (barring mystical forces beyond our understanding at work) an issue, it really makes no sense. Maybe a contest of dexterity is more sensible in those situations. For example, an easy to lose item is in a belt holster (like a pistol). A super-speedster like Jube should be able to pull the pistol out of the holster without strength ever being an issue. Ah well, let's just play this out and see what happens. It's "magic." I'll go ahead and post Magic-Hat and Marshal, then you'll be up again. Marshal is wasting a hero point trying to end this quickly, then shooting at the guy. The Marshal spends a point for Fast Intimidate and tries to intimidate Horny-Hat. It's a waste of time because, unbeknownst to the Marshal, Hat-Man is immune. He then tries to settle things the old fashioned way by shooting him. But, his ATK is 13, -4 for shooting into melee, against a DEF of 8. (1d20+13-4=17) He misses. So, Jube still has angry-slab-swingers attention. He lets go of the slab and tries to grab Jube by the ankles (on his shoulders). No modifiers, since Jube can just leap off to dodge. Unfortunately for our feline hero, Hat-man rolls 1d20+10=29. He makes a Grapple Check (1d20+20=29). Jube needs to roll an opposing check, but it doesn't look promising.

I was assuming that the helmet was easy-to-lose and that removing it would, indeed, end the fight quickly. Looking at the rules, it looks like removing any easy-to-lose item involves a strength contest, but that doesn't make much sense in a case like this (assuming, as you said, the helmet isn't strapped on, which was my original assumption, too) and the rule seems to assume the easy-to-lose device is hand-held. But, without the strength roll, removing the helmet would be a little too easy. So, I'm going to stick with the basic rule here: it is easy-to-lose and can be removed with a disarm (with, yes, a strength roll - maybe the helmet itself is holding on!) Or, if you can pin him as you seem to be suggesting, that could work, too. But, as fast as you are, you don't get to pin him for free. You still have to make your rolls against his DEF, or for grapple, etc. (Going to have to review the grapple rules. I've never used them.)

Suffice to say, he's not taking the "easy way." I'm assuming that we both a readied an action to see what he'd do. He's definitely attacking you again, so, go ahead and do your thing!

"Well, now. That changes things. Reckon I wont have to chase that fella half way 'cross town, now. So, Hudson, who's the furry guy?" "Searching. Possible online references located. An estimated 98% certainty that he is Jubatus, a metahuman capable of-" "Good Guy, or Bad Guy?" "...Good Guy." "Okay, then. That makes thing a lot less complicated." The Marshal dropped to the ground, 50 feet away from the ongoing melee. He trained his ion pistol on Crazy-Hat and shouted, "Okay, Mister. You ain't goin' nowhere, so give it up. You're only makin' it worse for yourself." The raging helmet thief seems to completely ignore the warnings of both the heroes, and rears back for another swing at Jube. "Leave. Me. ALONE!"

Yep, he saves: Helmet Man's Save (1d20+7=18) The Marshal is going to try to get some info about you (Move to command Hudson) and fly down to be near the action (move action). And, of course, Viking Dude is going to take a swing at you: Swings at Jube with a concrete bench slab (1d20+10=19) and barely misses. Go ahead and post, then I'll post their turns, then go ahead with your next turn.

Yeah, I should've known there wouldn't be much sense in asking you to roll initiative, but I didn't actually check your sheet. As for the slowpokes: Marshal rolls 1d20=13+5=18, and Viking rolls 1d20=9+6=15. So, for the record, we have: 38 Jubatus 18 Marshal 15 Viking Mr. Viking here is TrollThumper's Berserker. So, go ahead and roll vs. his Def 8. BTW, why is the save for your snare a 20DC? Isn't it supposed to be DC 10+5 instead of 15+5?

And now combat starts back up. Please roll initiative.

The center of FCU is a typical, grassy courtyard with paved walkways between the buildings, a few shade trees, and a handful of concrete benches. There were a dozen or so students on their way to their next class, but being citizens of Freedom City, they knew to get out of the way quickly when the strange super-powered trio came barreling through. Viking-Helmet veered towards one of the concrete benches, stopped, and ripped a flat slab from it, then turned to Jubatus. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!" he growled as he prepared to swing the broken slab.

"Okay, Hud, you're up." Hudson flew off ahead of the Marshal to keep tabs on the fleeing Viking-Helmet-Guy. While Brian couldn't fly nearly as fast as Hudson, he could manage a little more speed than his quarry. The chase took them right through the middle of FCU campus. The Viking-Helmet-Man was keeping to a relatively straight path, dodging and leaping small obstacles. The Marshal gradually caught up to him, passed him 100' over his head, and looked for a place to cut the suspect off.

Hell, yeah! Bring it on! Otherwise, Marshal Conners is probably about to have his butt handed to him, at least in the short run... Combat is broken off at this point. The Marshal is going to try to fly (slowly) to intercept the Mad Viking Dude.

Will do, SC!

The Marshal I Don't ~Feel~ Tardy 20 Questions

The Viking-helmet-wearing suspect sprinted for the corner of the building across the street. Once around it, he'd be out of sight, and running through the middle of FCU campus. There was no way to get a clear shot at him from ground level. There were too many cars and people in the way. Brian activated the gravatonic thrusters of his suit and rose steadily to about 100' in the air. Now at a good vantage point, he drew his weapon, set it for stun, and went for a take-down shot. With a loud crack, a blue-white beam flared out from his ion pistol, striking the fleeing suspect squarely in the back. He didn't slow down or even flinch, and continued at top speed around the corner and out of sight. "Well, don't that beat all." Brian muttered in exasperation. He adjusted the controls of his flight-system and flew in pursuit, Hudson following close behind.

No takers yet. Okay. Folks get to see me trash my own character, then. Roling for initiative: 9 Viking Guy 8 The Marshal The Viking-guy runs away at all-out speed. While at ground level, there is no clear shot at the running Viking suspect, from a higher vantage point, there would be for this first round before he gets out of sight around a building. The Marshal elects to fly straight up 100' and fire a stun shot at full power attack. The flat-footed target is Def +2. Marshal has ATK +13, but -5 for the Power attack and -2 for the range. He rolls a +6 vs a DC of 12. He hits with a 14. Viking has to make a fortitude save against a DC 22. He rolls a total of 26 and shrugs the shot off completely. The next round begins with Viking-guy making another all-out move and is out of sight.

The monorail pulled around the North side of the city, turning South as it approached FCU. Brian was standing in the crowded train compartment, holding a strap, looking out the window to the left of the train as the university came into sight. He was dressed in fairly nondescript student wear: kaki chinos, a light blue polo shirt, and a very smart smart-phone on his belt. A backpack with the FCU logo was slung over his shoulder and a bluetooth headset in his ear -- an accessory to let him talk to the empty air without looking crazy. "I'm not gonna be late, Hud." A voice in his subdermal comlink responded in an alien language: "You should have taken the earlier train, as I suggested. At your usual walking pace and given the time I estimate the train will arrive at the stop, you will be two minutes late to class." Brian looked at his watch. It was 9:05 am, ten minutes before his first class of the morning was scheduled to start. "I guess I'll just walk a bit faster than my 'usual walking pace.' What do you say to that?" As the train pulled into the stop, Brian noticed police cars with flashing lights just around the corner, arranged into a perimeter around a coffee shop across the street from the university. "Huh. I wonder what that's all about. Hudson?" "I was monitoring the police band and aware of this call, but there is no indication of metahuman activity. The police have cornered a suspect who apparently stole a replica Viking helmet from the Hunter Museum. There are no hostages and apprehension of the suspect is immanent. It did not seem worth mentioning. And you will be late for class." The train came to a stop and the doors opened. Brian stepped out of the train and started down the stairs to the street level. He stopped at the street -- the university in one direction, the police scene in the other. "He stole a replica helmet? A fake? Why was it a fake?" "That is unknown. However, online articles indicate that it is the Museum's policy to screen artifacts for mystic power and keep them safe from the populace. Replicas of such artifacts are placed on display." "Huh." Brian stood and pondered. "Brian. Class? Running late? You don't want another tardy reported, do you?" "Hudson... what's the deal with the real helmet?" After a short pause, he replied, "That is unknown. There is no information concerning any mystical powers it may have possessed. Its historical significance is that it is believed to have belonged to one of the most legendary berserker warriors who became a king of the Vikings in the 9th century. Brian... Brian! You are walking the wrong way!" "Somethin' don't smell right, Hud. This thief had to get that helmet and get past museum security to get out. Sounds like he has some skill. So, why steal a replica? Somethin' that ain't worth a wooden nickel? A replica meant to stand in for an item I'm willin' to bet had some kind o' mojo on it. No... somethin' really ain't right." Brian crossed the street, walking toward the police barricade and as he past the corner of the first building, came to a stop and said to Hudson, "Okay... gimme the go-ahead..." A few seconds later, at the moment no eyes or cameras were on him, Hudson said, "Now!" Brian activated the morph circuitry of his suit, which transformed him into his costume identity. His school backpack morphed into a canvas haversack slung over his shoulder. The Marshal strode to a police sergeant, stopped, and waited for the officer to acknowledge him. When the officer turned and looked the superhero up and down, he rolled his eyes. "Great. A Cape. We don't need you here, Cape. This is regular police business. Believe it or not, there are some things we can handle just fine without you." The Marshal raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Not tryin' to step on your toes none. I'll just stay out of your way. Just let me know if I can be of assistance to ya'." The sergeant rolled his eyes and shook his head dismissively, then turned back to the scene just as an inhuman roar erupted from the shop. Officers inside screamed and shots were fired. The pane glass window in front smashed outwards with an officer flying out of it, flailing his limbs helplessly until he slammed into a parked police car 30' away and slumped to the ground. Quickly following him, a man leaped through the broken window, landing in the middle of the semicircle of parked police cars. Veins bulged from his neck and face, and huge muscles had ripped through the fabric of his shirt. His face was framed by an enormous horned viking helmet. He looked at the police cordon surrounding him and let out another inhumanly rage-filled roar. Officers were frozen in terror. The man leaped over the parked police cars in a single bound and sprinted across the street and towards the university. Once the sergeant regained his wits, he turned to the Marshal. "Okay. Sure. He's all yours." He picked his radio back up and spoke into the microphone. "Dispatch, Unit 302. Code Blue. Code Blue. Subject running North through FCU campus. Subject... is a Viking. Over."

The Marshal and others confront a viking berserker rampaging through campus! Events occur Friday, July 20, 2012 at about 9am.

I'm going to try my hand at running a thread to introduce my character, the Marshal, particularly to other HCU student heroes, but anyone can jump in at any point. It's just a short take-down-the-bad-guy plot with a villain running amok through the campus. Note, too, that I'm new at actually GMing M&M, so help and advice will be appreciated. Also, the Marshal can use some help on this one. The villain is pretty much immune to Brian's usual tactics. The thread is: I Don't ~Feel~ Tardy [iC] and I Don't ~Feel~ Tardy [OOC]

20 Questions Brian sat alone in a small room on the 23rd floor of the Freedom City Federal Building. It was barely big enough for the table and chairs. It was an interview room, one not unlike the countless ones Brian had sat in before. A man in a dark suit came in with a cardboard box. He placed the box on the table, sat down facing Brian and began removing objects from it. First was a recorder, then a paper file, then a comically large pistol that looked like a prop from a 1950's B movie about rocket ships and space aliens. He then turned the recorder on. "This is April 17th, 2012 at 2:17 p.m. I am agent Blovinski interviewing the subject, Brian Conners. Mr. Conners, do you understand this is being recorded and consent to the recording?" Connors sat across from Blovinski in an odd combination of attire: a gray leotard, black boots, and a cowboy hat. A cowboy-looking pistol belt had an empty holster where the big ray gun had been, and a featureless gray box about the size of a pack of cigarettes was attached to the belt on the left. Brian smiled and tipped his hat back. "Yes sir, that's fine. I gotta admit, I'm used to sitting on the other side of tables like this, but I reckon I got it commin'. Go ahead, sir. Ask your questions." Blovinski opened the file, placed a pad of paper next to it, and readied to take notes. "So, Mr. Conners, where are you from?" "Texas, born and raised. Well, it was the Republic of Texas first, but joined the Union when I was about 10 or 12. "We got that. No, I mean, where are you from recently? "Oh, well, the territory of the Lor Republic. I've been living on its frontiers since... well... how long's it been?" "It has been 53.47 Earth years," said a tinny voice, with as strong a Texas accent as Brian had. Blovinski started with surprise. "Woah, what is that?" "My name is Hudson," replied the voice. "Go ahead, partner," Brian said, gesturing to the table. "Introduce yourself." The gray box on Brian's belt detached itself and floated up to the table. It slowly landed there, then transformed into what looked like a little toy plastic cowboy! "Howdy! I'm Hudson! Brian's partner and chief assistant!" It said with a tip of it's plastic-looking hat. Blovinski scribbled notes. "So... is this..." "Artificial? Yes, sir. He's a smart machine built to assist me. Back me up, so to speak. Don't mind him, though. He's harmless. Mostly. Go ahead with your questions." "Ah. Right. So, this morning, you walked into he US Marshal's office downstairs and introduced yourself. Why? What are you looking for?" "Well, sir, it's like this. I wasn't expectin' them to welcome me back with open arms, exactly. Not after all this time. I know they had to figure me for dead. But... I ain't. And Marshalin' is what I do. I figured they'd let me back doing what I know." "And what exactly is that?" "Well, back when I was workin' regular for the Marshal service, I worked the frontier. New Mexico Territory. Kept the peace. I was good at it. Liked it. Well, the last hundred, hundred fifty years it's all I been doing -- livin' on the frontier. Keepin' the peace." "You do understand there is no frontier here for you to work anymore, right?" Brian chuckled. "Well, beggin' your pardon, sir, but this whole planet is 'frontier' from where I'm sittin'." "I see. Brian, you were referred to us from the Marshal's office because you seem to be a metahuman and would fall more under our purview." "Come again? I'm a what, now?" Hudson spoke up: "Wayj-nol." Brian nodded with understanding. "Ahh. So, you're thinkin' I got powers what make be better than human. Like a demigod or somethin'? No, sir. I'm just a regular man." "Who came from space. That counts. Look, bottom line is that, to do what I think you want to do, it will be with us rather than the Marshal service." "Well, alright, then." "So, back to my questions. A point of concern of ours is what may have happened in the Civil War." "The what war?" "The War between the States? You were in Texas, which was in the Confederacy." "Oh! Okay. Well, I tell you what. Wasn't much 'civil' 'bout it, I assure ya. Yep, that was an interestin' time. When I was born, we was the Republic of Texas. Then we was a State of the Union. Then we were a Confederate State. Then Union again, all in my lifetime. By the way... Texas is still a State?" "Yes. Yes it is." "Well, there's that then. Guess it's good they never saw need to secede again. Anyway, the Unplesantness never went as far as where I was, in the Southwest of the State. I was in the Texas Rangers, then. Had my hands full with Mexicans and Indians and Outlaws and whatnot, so I never went and did any fightin' with the Rebs. The war was just somethin' in the papers. "But, things did change when it was over. For starters, the Yanks done disbanded the Rangers. Didn't want Texas to have its own fightin' men, seemed to be the reasonin'. So, I headed West to the territories and took work doing as close to what I'd been doin' as I could find: workin' for the Marshals. Yep. At war with 'em one week. Workin' for 'em the next. But, they seemed to let men be free, and that's all I asked for." "So, how did you feel about slavery?" "Look, wasn't nothin' right about it. Either all men are born free, or they ain't. And I believe they are. I gotta say, that's one good thing about the Yanks. They did end slavery. Just seems to me there'd be better ways of seein' to it than burnin' down cities, tearin' up railroads, and killin' lots o' folk is all." "Things have also changed about the role of women since your time. We are somewhat concerned about your feelings on that issue, given that, if you work for this agency, you will be working with women, too. What are your feelings about women and their role?" "I'm not so sure what your concern is. Is it that you're afeared I might act improper towards the ladies?" "What if one were in command over you?" Brian grinned widely. "Heh. You think I can't take direction from a lady? My Mama would set that straight right quick! Look, sir, this wouldn't be the first place I seen such things. Out there, in the galaxy, are plenty of womenfolk doin' things mostly done by men in my day. But, heck, even then, out on the frontier in Texas, work had to be done by whoever could do it. Never mattered much if man or woman. My Mama, for one, she was a strong woman and worked the ranch as well as any man. Her word out on the range carried the weight o' law, any cowpoke would tell ya." Blovinsky sat thoughtfully for a while before continuing. "So, Brian, what would you say your personal strengths are?" Brian grinned, "well, folks say I'm a pretty good singer." "Seriously." "Sorry. Don't mean no disrepect. But, strengths? Seems a bit immodest of me, but, okay. I am given to understand I'm very good at what I do. You see, folks on the frontier mostly want to be left alone. They don't want the Republic, or any gov'ment, nosin' in their business. I can relate to that. I'm one of 'em. But, a certain 'mount of gov'ment is a most unfortunate necessity. Gotta have peace, and gov'ments gotta step in a little to help keep it at times. So, I go in, see the problem, help fix it, and try not get in the way of folks too much." "And weaknesses? What is your greatest weakness?" "Well weaknesses, sure. Got plenty o' them," Brian replied with a chuckle. "Momma once told me I never met a vice I didn't like. Now, that said, I never let that get in the way of my work. But when I'm done workin', my time is my own. Then, I'll be looking for a good poker game and a good bottle of whiskey. I hadn't had either in a right long time." "I see..." Blovinski scribbled some more notes. "I reckon if you are lookin' for a choir boy, you best pass on me." "Anything else?" "Well, alright. There's the fact I'm not the brightest man, nor the most learned." "That's very true!" piped up Hudson. Brian gave him an eye, and Hudson fell quiet again. "There are many a thing, even after a hundred years of workin' with it, I can't make heads nor tails of. We got ships what fly through the ether faster than light can reach your eye. We got machines what move you from one place to the other in a blink. Heck, Hudson here, somebody built him and made him where he can think like a person!" Hudson looked up at Brian with a huge smile. "...almost." Hudson's smile dropped. "When I stop and think about how far away I am sometimes on the frontier, how mind-befuddlin'ly far away from anythin'... it puts a terror in me somethin' fierce. You can learn to live with it, though. Not understand it, mind you, just live with it... if you don't stop and think about it too much." "Mr. Conners... just what is your motivation to be with us? That's what I'm really trying to understand." Conners straightened up and took a somber tone. "Well, sir... you ever read the Declaration of Independence?" Blovinski had a puzzled look. "Yes?" "Well, I, for one, found it inspirin'. Right from the first time my Momma made me read it when I was eight. You know what it said to me? We all have the right, in us, to follow our callin', to breathe free, and ain't no king or emperor or gov'ment that can change that. "Ain't never been done before. No, sir. Ain't never been a country put together around that basic way o' thinkin'. And I don't mean just on Earth, neither. I mean nowhere! Best out there is the Lor Republic. They ain't all that bad, but even they don't really get it. "You see, I like bein' free. And I can't well say I got a right to be free if I don't think it's worth protectin' for others, too. Well, for a man to be free, truly free from the bonds o' other men, he's gotta respect the freedom of others. Gotta have Justice, then, and gotta have hard men what can make Justice happen. Ain't no two ways 'bout it. And..." He added as he adjusted his hat, "I'm one of those hard men." Blovinski nooded approvingly and scribbled more notes. "Okay. So, have you had an opportunity to see the state of the world now? I am wondering what your opinion of it is." "Well, I haven't been able to tell much. Haven't been back that long. But, what I've been told by the Lor seems to be accurate given what I seen so far. You seem to be behind in quarsh novi. Umm... Hudson?" "Technology," Hudson offered. "Right. Your 'technology' is way behind as far as I can tell. You folks can barely get yourselves off the planet! But, there is a concern about the amazin' number of wayj-nol ... um, 'metahumans,' that this world gives birth to. There ain't no other planet known to the Lor what pops 'em out like here and that plumb give 'em fits. Worries them somethin' awful, I tell ya. 'Course.. I don't see that as a bad thing," he said with a mischievous grin. "Not necessarily. Lor can stand to be a bit worried sometimes." "And what do you see as your place in this world?" "Well, you got your metahumans you worry 'bout. You got that in common with the Lor, that's for sure. I figure there might be a place for someone who can handle what metahumans dish out. Don't care how 'meta' they are, they're still human. That means they gotta follow the same rules we all do. If I'm the one what's gotta tell 'em that in no uncertain terms, then so be it." "You seem to have a pretty close connection to the Lor. What are your loyalties to them?" "Right now, I don't owe them nothin' but some gratitude and respect. I worked for them, but I never renounced my oath." "Your oath?" "To protect the Constitution from all enemies foreign and domestic and to faithfully execute the duties of my office. Didn't have much application that far from home. Way out of my jurisdiction," he said with a smile. "But it's what I lived by nonetheless. I promised them to help keep the peace. I wanted the tools I needed and to be pretty much left alone, otherwise. "They knew there were things I would not do. They didn't really understand, but they respected me for it. They do understand honor, and that's for sure. They respected it was part of my honor and that was enough for them." "How well would you say you get along with others?" "Well, my Momma done raised me right, sir. I know how to treat people with right manners and all. Ain't many folks I can't get along with." "Do you follow any religious tradition?" "Well, my Momma was a religious woman. She did her best with me, but I'm afraid it didn't take. Wasn't much Sunday churchin' out in the territory. And, once I was out and about the galaxy, I began to question a great many things. One thing I noticed for sure: I saw a hundred Earths out there with folks on them for thousands a years, and wasn't a one of 'em inherited by the meek. "I figure, though, that there might come a day when I die and I got to make accountin' for myself before the Almighty. I hope when that day comes, the Almighty won't be disappointed with me in how I treated my fellow Man. 'Fraid that's about as deep as my spiritual-ness goes, sir." "Have you worked with a team?" "Like a team of horses?" "No, no, I mean working with a small group of other people towards a common goal. Specifically, 'keeping the peace,' as you put it." "Well, sure! I'm always on a team, then, even if it's just the two of us, Hudson and me. But, usually, I join up with folks who have a problem, like local lawmen or settlers. I can't do everything by myself. Workin' with others, when it can be done, is always better." "And would you want to be on a team in the future?" "Of course! Ain't no better way to go about it, I'd reckon. If there are folks what would have me on their side, and they can saddle up, I'd form up a posse with 'em and ride out!" Blovinski closed his file. "Thank you, Mr. Conners. That is all I have for now. This concludes the interview of Brian Connors. Time is now 3:04 p.m." He stopped the recorder.

Table of Contents 20 Questions

Yeah, about the teleport range, I noticed. For a little while, I had the range longer. But, fluff-wise, his personal teleporter is not doing the teleporting, really, so it's limited by the ship's range. I hate "wasting" points, but sticking to fluff is more important. (In the Freedom City Book, the Lor are said to have "short-range transport" technology. I interpreted that to mean to and from orbit, but that would be its limit.) And the teleport doesn't need accurate. Anchored locations are considered "known especially well." As for the movable HQ, yeah, I know that would have to be a major ref call there. FWIW, it is not capable of atmospheric operation. However, on the "cheese" side, it could change it's orbit location, allowing him to travel pretty much anywhere in just a few turns.

Okay, the changes made are too many to catalog, but it is ready for your re-evaluation.