EviscerusNox

Spitfire moved around the shop inspecting the hodgepodge of items. They reminded him of the roadside freak shows and macabre trinkets he'd been sidled with in his youth. People always wanted to believe the monkey stitched to a fish was the fiji mermaid. This seemed similar, and equally unbelievable. Max was fairly certain this "shaman" walked his dream path more often than he guided others, and by that Max meant he sampled his own supply way too much, still, Jann seemed to like him, seemed almost reverent in fact, which he hadn't been for basically anybody else since he met the young man. Max shook his head baffled by it all. "We're actually here about that guru, and Latin Ink, and Chopper. We're from outta town and let's just say this guru stirred up trouble where we're from and we kinda want to see he pays his dues. Sadly he's chosen your town in which to hide, and gotten your ne'er do wells doin' even worse stuff. So we gotta take him out and sadly yer right, there is gonna be blood. We're here to warn ye, and to tell ya that when the dust settles, the town'll be yours again, hopefully."

Max jumped in the car next to Flare grinning. "Sounds great! Let's go see the medicine man!" Max turned to Jann "They'll get a kick outta you thunderbird! Honestly though, I don't want the town to suffer either, if I can find a way for this brawl to go down outside city limits that'd suit me just fine. It's always easier for me to let loose when property damage isn't a concern. If you couldn't tell I have what you might call 'impulse control.' So buildings tend to burn down around me when I get distracted."

Ok that brings it around to AA

Spitfire didn't get back to his trailer till almost an entire day later. Stumbling in the door he immediately went to the sink and started scrubbing his hands. Soot and blood mingled with the water turning the sink a brownish black. His hands were shaking and his chest heaved beneath his burned and ruined shirt. Looking up into the window to look out in the night he caught his transluscent reflection in the mirror. Fire was still pouring out of his mouth, his face covered in soot, hair matted with blood, eyes dark and hollow. He started shaking. Not even recognizing himself, he finally noticed a background noise and turned. He had left the TV on. "No casualties as of yet in tonight's surprise burning of a warehouse in The Fens. Police believed the building to be the headquarters of a local gang known to sell drugs in The Fens. This seems to be supported by the individuals found bound outside the building, tied to a lamp post. The worst injuries among them were some broken bones and second degree burns, none of them are being held in intensive care. Still police are looking into the possibility of a new vigilante in The Fens, one who unlike many of our heroes, has little restraint. The fire chief proclaimed it a miracle that the fire didn't spread to other nearby -" The television exploded into flames as Max screamed at it. Luckily he had the where-with-all to keep the fire small and contained so he didn't lose his home as well tonight. The smoldering TV offered a little light for a moment but was soon extinguised, leaving the trailer bathed in fitful moonlight. Max went back to trying to scrub the last few hours off his hands and his mind when he saw the glass of orange juice on the counter. The one he'd given Moira. "Dear Lord, what have I done?" Max absently opened a cabinet and pulled a bottle of scotch from it, then set down on his couch, assuredly ruining it's upholstery. Max looked over to the shower, he knew he should take one, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything but bring that bottle to his lips and back down to his lap. Memories of just a few hours before haunted him, seeming a lifetime ago. Max finally found the strength to stand up, but found that he didn't have the sobriety to stay upright, and fell down onto the floor. "Hell with it." Max slurred, bringing the bottle back to his lips and taking a long gulp before falling into darkness and unconsciousness. His last thought was the he hoped he was too drunk to dream.

Zealot quickly caught on to the flying lady's schtick and growled. "It is your true colors that have been exposed witch! Fearing a fair fight? Fearing the sting of Witchbreaker as you should." For emphasis Zealot held aloft the crackling scourge then whipped it back and forth menacingly, sounds like cracking thunder shaking the air between Zealot and the Sunhawk. "It is always those who wear such pagan idolotry that show their true nature, the nature of a yellow cur!" Zealot took up a defensive stance and waited, doing his best to keep an eye on the Sunhawk and Ronin below.

Prince Ak'kar Diaspora: The Trek Outwards (3) Spitfire Dry Run (2) Gun Run (9) Ink! (1) GM Giving Up the Ghost (5) All GM points go to Spitfire

Ak'kar looked upon the scene with horror. Something was controlling these people like marionettes. Perhaps a hive mind? Ak'kar forced himself to adopt a regal pose and put his hands behind his back, then called out to the possessed men. "I am Ak'kar Kalmari, true heir to the throne of Illthus, and Captain of this ship. Your attempts to commandeer it have been thwarted. Any further violence will be met with severe reprocussions. Whatever you are, you who controls these men, leave now and I promise an armistice. Stay, and I shall strike you down with the righteous fury bestowed upon my person as Prince of Illthus."

Ok so Zealot will hold his action, bringing it to Ronin!

Spitfire's eyebrows shot up and ran over to Flare's car. "Hey dollface hold up a sec. So the Latin Kings are wanting this plot of land eh? Think maybe they'd be willing to go to war? A nice biker gang war would be pretty good cover to get in there and mess up Happy. After that we can mop up what's left of the biker gangs and give this town back to it's people. Whatya think Bird?" Spitfire said turning back to Jann. "Besides Flare, you kinda owe us more than just a note saying "bad guy is here." You say you sold these Latin Kings not so good guns. Mayhaps you can let rumor spread that the good shipment actually went to this Chopper and his gang, and that you're hiding out with them cuz you know the Kings ain't got the stones to go after Chopper. Might work yeah?"

You are up AA!

Max smiled at her flirty quips then turned to Bird of Arms and gave a polite nod. Max had spent very little time with the youth but he seemed a no nonsense type and he liked that about him, even though Max was the complete opposite. "Biker gangs eh? If he hasn't gotten hold of all their minds yet maybe I could infiltrate them? Come in as someone looking to join? I do own a motorcycle and have a bunch of tattoos so I have the prerequisite outfit. Of course I'm just as likely to get wammied if I do that. Birdie wouldn't be able to pull it off having wings and all. Flare might make a convincing "old lady" as they call 'em. Whatcha think?"

Zealot growled at Lady Horus' insults and shot back in a clipped manner, "Don't you ever shut up!?" Then pulled off his belt a crossbow and fired at the floating woman. The bolt sailed wide and Zealot cursed under his breath, looking to find that he had put himself yet again between the two heroes. Seeing this as an untenable strategic situation, Zealot moved into the shadows and teleported yet again, this time to the top of the church in the shadow of the bell tower. He made no move to hide, however, as that had proved to be fruitless. "I shall strike you both down with the righteous fury of my Order! Your taunts are hollow woman, and after I deal with you, your little friends are next!"

Zealot will pull out a crossbow and shoot at Lady horus! Crossbow attack: 1d20+14 20 That's a miss Move action he will teleport again, this time to the top of the church (I'd say it's 60' up if it's important to you!) Ronin is up! Will post shortly

Maxie never did much like Arizona. Too dry and bland. Everything painted in just reds and oranges, it got downright monotonous to him. Sure some people thought it was pretty country but those people were what Max liked to call: completely bonkers. Still, the drive down on his bike was fun, and he had to remind himself that this wasn't like the last time he left Freedom City. He wasn't running away now, he was here to help his home, not flee it. Max slowed to a gravelly crunching stop in front of Flare, dismounting the bike and smiling widely despite the obvious dust that caked his face where the goggles hadn't covered. "Flare my love! Long time no see! Tell me you missed me at least a little bit." Max winced exaggeratedly when he saw her nose. "Oooh. I didn't do that did I? No hard feelings right darlin'? You had just stabbed me after all."

Zealot jumped from the yell, surprised at the ferocity from one he had assumed little more than like the thugs that had hired him. The pellets struck home on his chest, but thanks to the armor left no wounds. The force did propel him out of the nearby window however and Zealot found himself on his back in the shadows. Snarling a curse, Zealot melted into the shadows, phasing from his current location to one just under the eaves of the church behind Ronin. He did his best to stay quiet, to get the drop on this do gooder, but a twig snapped beneath his foot that he had not seen.