Sticklefront

November 12th, 2013 8:02 PM Brutus Haigh was enjoying a particularly graphic dream when he was rudely dragged back to reality. It had been a long night, followed by a long day; he'd needed some down-time, but that didn't seem likely now. Someone was hammering on the door to his apartment, in a nondescript block in the Fens. Though still bleary from sleep, he could pick out the odd word; they were speaking... Chinese? He shook his head to clear the fog from his thoughts. Brutus was fluent in Vietnamese, and although the languages were totally different, they shared a large portion of their vocabulary. "Waitaminnit... I'm comin', just hold up, dammit..." he paused. Whoever was hammering on his door was still yelling; they were scared, and in a panic. He tried to make sense of what was being said. "What?" He stood and wrapped a towel around himself, as an attempt at decency. He stomped to the front door, and yanked it open, revealing a short Asian lady of advanced years. She had her hand raised to strike the door again, and seemed confused by the appearance of a half-naked man. Another figure peered over her shoulder. A wizened old man, again of Asian descent. Her husband? They were scared, he could see that much. With a heavy sigh, Haigh pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. He held up his other hand to stop the woman from yelling. It was making his head hurt. "OK. In English, if you can. Who is Xiao, and why're you so worked up? He's gone walkin'? That's good excercise..." His voice trailed off. They weren't laughing.

Tagged!

Havoc couldn't help but smirk at Jackie's words. Dangerous. Had a knife. Ha! He leaned down, and awkwardly ruffled the young man's hair. "Thanks, kid. Rest up. Me an' you are gonna have a long talk when you're out of here." he said, a little sternly. "But tonight you've done good." He nodded his thanks to the... secretary? Nurse?... that had let him in, and headed into the night. He was itching to bring this to a close; he would be god-damned if this was going to go on any longer than it had to. In the long years since the Terminus war, keeping his neighborhood free of drugs, prostitution, theft and all the other crimes spawned by human desire had been the only thing he'd achieved that was worth a raw dime. All his ability, all the uniqueness of his modified body, nothing had really meant anything after Havoc had shuttered himself away from the world. He'd seen the Omegadrones burning through the sky over Johnson Apartments; the surreal and the mundane, mixed together. After that, nothing seemed to matter. He had reduced his world to a a few hundred metres of tarmac and concrete, and just... waited the years away. If that was all he'd done, one neighborhood in the worst part of town, then... well, no way was he going to let it slide. Whoever Mr. Dangerous Knife Man was... he was going to have a rough night. Six blocks was no distance at all, and in hardly any time, he was nearing the alleyway's location.

Yo! Back from an unplanned holiday, and ready to resume the action

Havoc watched his erstwhile companion as he spoke, and while he shared the urge to protect the veterans below, he couldn't bring himself to be okay with the kind of justice that Boomstick had in mind. He'd seen the fire in Boomstick's eyes too many times before; on the faces of his taskmasters, his targets, even his comrades in the field. It had only ever led to evil acts. "No." he whispered, placing a warning hand on Boomstick's calf, ahead of him in the duct. "Nothing lethal. Especially not on that flimsy premise. We take 'em in, you hear? If it comes to that..." he nodded at the firearm strapped to Boomstick's waist. "... then you shoot to wound. You get me?" He didn't wait for an answer. He turned away, looking out through the grille to where Kabir stood talking in a small group with a handful of very different figures. He took a second to listen, to watch, to try and see anything that would give Boomstick's accusation any weight... but only a second, before turning back to his companion. "Come on. Move."

Knowledge (tactics) (1d20+8=17)

Havoc will go along with Boomstick's plan; although essentially watching him just as much as he's watching for Afghani terrorists...

Havoc narrowed his eyes as Boomstick laid his story out on the line. He'd heard of a "Boomstick" character; most serving soldiers had heard one or two stories when jawing in the barracks. Some of the stories were pure heroism. Others... grim. If this was him... and if he was telling the truth... then there was a real danger here. But was he for real? Could he be trusted? Under the circumstances, Havoc knew he had to make a call. "I'll give you a chance." he said, warily. "I'm comin' with you to this "terrorist attack", an' if it's goin' the way you say it's goin' then you'll need any help you can get." Havoc left it at that; he wasn't about to TELL this guy that he was suspicious, after all. In all honesty, though, Havoc felt the familiar itch between his shoulderblades that told him that there was something to this story; despite his misgivings, he was tempted to believe Boomstick's words. He deactivated his energy blades with a flourish. "Lead the way. Let's do this."

Well, I tried it from my phone but I can't cut and paste the URL. Just the link to the roll result: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4279825/ Scored 25 on intimidate check

Ha! It can be when I get home :D

Havoc gathered himself, pain flaring in his chest from the impact of his opponent's rounds. He braced himself as the man bore down on him... wait... what did he say? Boomstick? That's name was familiar. No matter. Deal with the threat. Come on! Concentrate! With a grunt of effort, he caught Boomstick's wrists as they darted for his neck. Twisting them down and away, he got an arm free... and plunged the phased blade attached to his forearm into Boomstick's solar plexus. The blade would have killed him outright, had it been set to a solid-state, but as it was the weapon had been dialled down far enough to let it pierce through his body without causing any physical harm. Instead, the energies of the weapon scrambled his nervous system, causing him to seize and collapse in a heap at Havoc's feet. Silence fell once again, broken only by the moans of the injured Shanks and Havoc's heavy breathing. He kicked the prone body at his feet, leaving the blade still within Boomstick's chest to maintain his immobilization. "Now, we're gonna have a talk, son." he growled. "You're gonna tell me all about this 'mission' you're so keen on, an' exactly what in the hell you think yer doin' in my town tonight. I'mma take this blade out now; don't you move none, or it's goin' straight back in. I might make it a bit more tangible too, if I don't like what ya got to say. You understand?" He slipped the blade out from Boomstick, standing over him poised for trouble. "Now, boy. Talk."

Awesome! Thanks, I'll remembr that about the DC, too

Grapple check (opposed) (1d20+16=31) Unmodified Int Check (1d20=15) Woohoo! Some success at last! I'll wait for you to tell me if that Int check matters before I make my IC post! Assuming it doesn't change anything too much, Havoc will use his only action to make another Stun attack now that Boomstick is in range following his grapple attempt: Stun attack roll (1d20+10=22) If that hit, then its a DC22 Fort save

I lose my turn; I'm stunned for this round, and staggered too if I understand the rules properly. Ouch!

The sound of the muffled gunshots spat into the silence of the evening. Phut phut phut. Caught completely unprepared, Havoc was caught in the hail of bullets thrown from the mans weapon, blasted onto his back in the middle of the street. His lungs emptied themselves of air in one convulsive gasp, and he realised he owed a lot thanks to the armoured padding of his bodysuit. Havoc flopped on the tarmac like a grounded fish, trying to catch his breath. His veins burned with the chemicals surging through his bloodstream, and his heartbeat was thundering in his ears. The rubber rounds had hurt like hell, but he was no stranger to pain. He growled to himself, trying to draw breath, desperate to gather himself and stop the man in black from making his escape. Something was happening tonight, something he didn't understand. It didn't sound good, and this guy was willing to kill for his plan to succeed. He had to be stopped!

Flat-footed Toughness save (1d20+6=12) Aw, hell...

Havoc frowned, listening to the man's words... soldiers to protect? Nation to protect? What the hell was he talking about? Then he saw the gun. His eyes widened as adrenaline surged into his bloodstream. "Aw, hell..."

Initiative roll (1d20+13=14) Un-frickin'-believeable!

I'll try and do fancy link things tomorrow when I'm on my laptop: until then: Havoc The Big Boom (2) Cleaning The Streets (2) Also completed the HellQ for Havoc, and the new Player Questionnaire

The man knew his business, Havoc had to give him that. He disarmed and put down his three assailants without breaking a sweat. Any other time, Havoc would have been impressed. The guy had just done the city a favour, in his eyes. But no; things looked to be taking a sinister turn. The guy was clearly military, but these weren’t enemy soldiers: even if they were backstabbing scumbags, they weren’t going to die in the street like dogs. They were being taken in. He sighed quietly to himself, and stepped out into the street. “That’s enough, son.†he called. “Step away.†He approached, directly towards the man in black and the prostrate Shanks. “They ain’t in a state to be hurtin’ anybody. You defended yourself, fair’s fair. Ain’t gonna watch ya murder these boys, though. Stand down, soldier.†He watched the man, testing him, and how he would react to a costume appearing on the scene…

Havoc pressed himself to the brickwork, watching the scene unfold. He had spotted the man in black, catching a glimpse of his human shape in the darkness as he was making his way from rooftop to rooftop on his usual Tuesday night patrol route. The man bore no identifying marks; nothing to say if he was on the side of the angels or just another problem. So now, Havoc was watching him from an alleyway at street level as he loaded up his gear into an unmarked van. He seemed to be alone… Wait. Scratch that. He had been alone. There were three young punks, members of a particularly foul group of street-flotsam calling themselves the Shanks, appeared from the alcove of a nearby storefront. Nasty bunch, the Shanks. They were stab-happy, and Havoc had tussled with them before. The man in black hadn’t reacted. Didn’t seem to have noticed the trio coming up on him with violence in mind. Havoc made a decision; he could learn about this fella from the way he handled these no-account thugs. And if he didn’t spot them in time to act? Well… Havoc was here to intervene. One way or the other, this guy was gonna make himself known to Havoc before the night was out.

Streetwise Check- Untrained Knowledge- (Streetwise) (1d20=12) Success!

Tag!

1. If one views a role playing game as mix of role-playing (story telling focus) and game (tactical challenge focus), what kind of mix do you like? I honestly prefer the sotry to the tactical aspects of the game. The Rule of Cool is the most important thing to me, rather than the way the dice fall. 2. Our site operates a policy that no PC should die without player permission. Failure, however, is another matter. A villain could get away, an innocent (or beloved) could die, calamity could happen, your PC could get the snot beaten out of him and humiliated (publicly or privately). How do you feel about the prospect of failure? What chance of failure would you like, and what type of failure would you tolerate, expect, or indeed wish? I like it when failure is always a possibility. I think all character decisions should have ramifications. It adds a sense of danger, and makes for more interesting play that just throwing powerful characters at a problem until it goes away! 3. Superheroes have great power, the power to impose their will upon the world. This can mean the chance to escape the moral complexities of the world, or it can mean even greater moral complexities. What do you want? Do you like your antagonists as well defined, clear-cut evil, or your antagonists (and protagonists) to be more ambiguous, greyscale and three dimensional? (we should note that this site does not condone vigilantes or the like) I think that the more ambiguous, three-dimensional stories have great potential. The best example I can think of is the newer Avengers run that Brian Bendis did for Marvel; everything from the breakout at the Raft prison, and the New 52 from DC. There are some more questionable moral choices to be made, but all the characters are unquestionably heroic. 4. This site is unambiguously about superheroes. However, within those parameters, there is a fairly wide canvas. Three main categories that formed are the combat focus, The investigative focus, and the Social focus (which does not necessarily mean just chatting and making friends, but social conflict too). There are other themes and sub-themes, too many to mention here. Do you have any thoughts or preferences about themes? How much combat would you like in a thread, for instance? How would you feel if combat could be avoided by a subtle approach? I don’t really have a preference, but I think combat is an integral part of the superhero genre; however clever or stealthy a character is, let’s be honest… we all love a superpowered throwdown as a climax! 5. Finally, do you have any other comments on what your priorities or preferences are in playing a RPG, and more specifically, a superhero RPG? Only that it’s important for the heroes to BE heroic. Especially in the superhero genre, the PC’s should each get to shine. NPC’s, other PC’s, the villains and the world they exist in all have to believe in what the heroes do, and requires more than a little suspension of disbelief in order for it to work!

Havoc nodded appreciatively to the young girl, grateful that she had sense enough to see what was happening here. He listened to Jackie. Havoc was a child of his time; wishy-washy druggies like Jackie annoyed him, for sure- but he didn’t hate them. He felt… well, that they needed to be put straight, but more that the bottom-feeders selling the drugs needed to be brought in. He needed everything from this boy that he could get. He leaned in closer to Jackie. “Listen to me, son.†he said in a low voice. “I ain’t gonna give you a hard time, but I need to know; where did you meet this guy? The man in the suit? Give me somethin’, son. Stay with me. Talk to me.â€