Heritage

The blonde chemist/heroine nodded eagerly. "Oh good! It's always nice to be helpful in a non-combat capacity." Her hair rose up above both their heads and ruffled itself like like the extended wings of a giant bird, then slowly and ever so gently it settled down over the two heroes, covering them both with a warm protective blanket that did indeed trap their shared body heat to delightful effect. For her part, Gossamer was feeling too happy to be troubled by such gloomy premonitions, and she waved such thoughts away with a flick of her fingers. "Oh now, you shouldn't always assume the worst; after all, it's the holidays! Every once and a while there actually is peace on earth, you know." She shrugged, the golden mantle rising up on her shoulders. "You have to be able to enjoy these quiet happy moments while they last."

Estelle nodded as Mad Dog explained more about the nature of his crime-fighting career, her eyes still somewhat unfocused; it wasn't that she wasn't listening so much as she was taking in all the information and processing, turning the dieas over in her mind. At this, she snapped back to the present. "What? Oh, yes, uh...sure, that's fine." She even scooted over a bit herself so their hips touched. Sadly she didn't have a mask to hide the blood rising to her cheeks, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. As she adjusted herself, Gossamer's glorious hair uncoiled fully and drapped itself majestically over her shoulders like a queen's radient rode, some of which also landed on MD's leg; there was the slightest pressure, like a hand laid gently on his muscular thigh. Estelle took a deep breath, which she let out slowly. "So, it's a pleasant night, isn't it? A good night to punish scoundrels for their wicked ways." She cast a quick casual glance Gregory's way as she raised her Thermos cup to her lips. "By the way, are you cold? My hair traps a lot of air between the strands, which makes it a wonderful insulator..."

Estelle's beautiful blue eyes widened in wonder as Gregory shared his tale; would she have done the same thing in his position, or would she just go to the authorities and trusted them to take care of everything? She chewed thoughtfully on a lock of her hair as she pondered this question. "Hmm. Well, I'd still like to help, but maybe in a more subtle way; my powers can be a bit showy and my identity is very public, so I should probably be cautious. I understand that the Mob has a very long collective memory for settling scores and slights." She switched from her hair back to her food, keeping her thoughts private as she munched in silence.

To hit vs Punk: 1d20+12=20, which I think still hits him no problem. DC 25 Toughness save vs Claw Damage.

Grim breathed a mental sigh of relief, delighted she could finally focus completely on beating up these thugs and salvaging her evening. She flicked out her claws and grinned evilly. "Alright, who wants to take a fun visit to the hospital?" Suddenly a knife popped out of a goon's wrist and he screamed like a little girl. All eyes turned to the source of the weapon, and wouldn't you know it, it was Little Miss Interactive Storytelling coming 'round the corner; apparently you could buy some wicked toys in the dealer room these days. Grim shouted at the girl, furious that she'd decided to stick around and 'help'. "What are you doing?! These guys have guns!" BLAM! "See?" Luckily the guy was a lousy shot, and the shock of facing a knife-tossing Bo Beep probably wasn't helping. Now much angrier at the LARPer girl than the gun-packing criminals, Grim viscously lashed out at the one who fired, hoping to quickly drop him to the ground; most punks passed out from the pain of her claw attacks, even though the slashes were much longer than they were deep.

Fair enough, I shall post!

Actually none of the rerolls were under 10 on the virtual die, so I don't get to add 10 to them; this is what made these rolls so frustrating, since they were all near-misses! :)

Mmm, yeah, okay. Reroll on Fort save: 1d20+12=26 Well at least I failed by less this time; DC 30 is hard to make!

For the first time, Lynn felt a twinge of guilt about her treatment of her creation. Her own mother's emotions frequently blew hot and cold, and had made her childhood difficult; she didn't want to turn out the same way, even with what appeared to be a sort of temporary child. For her part, little Grim!Manikin eagerly toddled on over to Dr. Archeville, who'd clearly been much nicer to the tiny doll so far; her glossy eyes were wide with curiosity as she held out her hands to touch Dok's ubiquitous labcoat. Watching the little thing move about, Grim's fear began to fade; a young girl's horror at the thought of dummies, mannequins and dolls springing to life was replaced by fond memories of her beloved Oz books, where sawhorses and pumpkinheads awoke quite innocently, and rarely harmed anyone. She's actually super-cute, once you kinda squint your eyes and forget you're still awake; oh man, I hope she doesn't already hate me... This line of inquiry caught Grim off-guard, and her cheeks and the tips of her ears went bright pink as she ran a nervous hand through her short hair. “What? Oh, ah, things have been proceeding kinda slowly due to me going back to school, so we’ll have to see. I think I wanna get married in the spring, probably in late May; y’know, after Passover, maybe even on Lag B’Omer, which I think falls on the twenty-second next year. That way my Orthodox relatives won’t have an excuse not to show up, and it’s kinda like good luck and stuff…†As she spoke, she watched in quiet awe as the tiny childlike thing crawled up into Dok’s arms, a little spider monkey just like she was when she was little; a wave of powerful emotions swept through her, and somehow she knew right then and there that she and Colt would have a family. “I wanna hold her next...â€

For a moment, she stiffened at his familiar touch, but then she relaxed and allowed his arm to stay put. In fact, a slender lock of hair lazily coiled up his arm like ivy; whether or not Estelle was conscious of the tendril was unclear. The blonde heroine sniffed in mock outrage. "Speak for yourself, Mad Dog; I've always been fascinating." At the mention of the Mafia don, Gossamer sat up a little straighter and her expression became serious. "So who is this Mafioso? Would I recognize his name from the papers? If you need any help, I would of course be willing to lend a hand, possibly even several."

Wait, how many guys are there? You mentioned six in an earlier post, but now it sounds like two; is that because I only had two of them speaking?

At first Gossamer was having such a good time that she was relatively unaware of Corbin's unhappy state of being; it was the first time she'd really cut loose since her break-up with Moira, and only belatedly did she realize how selfish she was being, and what a spectacle she was making of herself. She could only imagine the coldly disapproving glare her mother would give her if she was present. Stopping to catch her breath, she shook her head in disappointment with herself. "I'm so sorry, Corbin; clearly this is not the pleasant diversion you were hoping for, and I apologize. I foolishly let my opinion of Mr. Sleazy infect my choice of song, thinking he and his band incapable of a slow dance number, which in fact they may well be. But if you give me a chance, I think we can end on a better note, perhaps despite our host's intentions." She smiled a crooked smile, then excused herself as she sought out Felix, a winning smile on her face. "Ah, there you are! Truly a magnificent evening; I must congratulate you. However-" And here she adopted a somewhat pained expression. "Sleaze McRock to play us out? I think this might have been a mild misstep, but I must admit I have my biases; I've always been a classic metal fan, and these kids today..." She clucked her tongue and shook her head, sending ripples through her impressive mane. "That being said, if we could get in one last slow dance, I would really appreciate it; there's a very sweet young man who owes me a dance, and I'd hate to disappoint him. I was thinking 'Bella Notte' might be nice; it's slow, sweet and fairly innocent, and nearly every band can play it, it's from Lady and the Tramp. What do you say, Felix?"

Grim's Fort save vs winter's chill: 1d20+12=19 Yikes! Reflex save vs yikes: 1d20+12=26 Argh! Okay, gonna blow an HP to fuel a reroll for the Reflex save; I don't mind her taking some damage, but not the full effect! Reroll on Reflex save: 1d20+12=27 Well, fudge; so how dead is she? :D

Okay, now your making me second guess myself, but in a good way; since Grim does have Set-up, it would be a shame to waste a good feint opportunity if she could transfer the benefit to another party member. What would I have to do in your eyes to qualify for a Set-up? Sorry if I'm bogging stuff down, folks!

No, not so much a feint as psy-ops kinda stuff, or at least Grim's version; she hoping to drop off the prince's radar so she can more effectively sneak attack or otherwise aid the party next round. To be honest, there's not a lot of advantage rules-wise in what she's doing, at least not yet.

Not sure if that post was street legal ruleswise, just going off a suggestion Doc had in thread about how Dead Head takes a hit. Grim can get at 28 on Bluff due to Skill Mastery, but if we don't think she could make that hole in time, I can change this post a bit (even quite a bit) if need be.

Luckily for the young shapeshifer, the annoying Russian guy totally telegraphed his shot with his stupid speech, so when the muzzle flashed, she was able to form a small hole about three inches in diameter in her upper chest, allowing the bullet to pass harmlessly right through her body! It did, however, rip convincingly through her clothing, and she conjured up enough blood to sell the hit; the fae girl dropped to the ground like a sack of moldy potatoes, an apparent casualty. In a second I'll call out so only our guys can hear me, but for now, I want the shock the Russkies see on their faces to be real.

Grim couldn't say a damn thing; her wide eyes were fixed on the tiny little girl she'd created, or summoned or whatever she'd done. The changeling wrapped her arms tightly around herself and hunched over slightly, as a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room sank deep into her bones. In a toneless voice barely above a whisper she muttered, "I have no idea..." The doll recoiled slightly from Dr Archeville when he got close to its face, but in general its demeamor seemd to be frank curiosity about the world it now inhabited. The GrimDoll held its tiny hands to its throat and sadly shook its head. Then it seemed to notice the real Grim for the first time, and there was a look of recognition in its eyes; it took a tentative step closer to Lynn, cocking its head to one side as though puzzled, then ran a small wooden hand down its glossy varnished cheek. Lynn drew her legs up close to her body, like she'd just seen a big black spider run across the floor "Oh my God, it recognizes itself; that means its got, what, self-awareness, right? It came into this freakin' world knowing what it looks like! Oh s***! Oh God!" The doll stopped with one hand extended when it saw the larger Grim react in fright, unsure of what to do next; then it looked back over its shoulder at Dok, a hurt expression on its face. Though mute and apparently composed entirely of wood, the doll was remarkably expressive.

In the interesting of making the moment more creepy, we're gonna say this is closer to a low-powered Duplication, or more like the bastard child of Create Object and Duplication; a sentient construct powered by magic :twisted:

Internally, Estelle chastised herself for getting the singer's name wrong, not so much because she was concerned about offending him (his response confirmed her feeling that his was not an acquainance she needed to make), but it was a failure of etiquette, the careful social dance she usually performed flawlessly. The twinge was the same a baseball player might feel if he swung at a poor pitch, and like any good batter she finally shrugged internally and moved on to the next pitch. At least he's playing the song well enough. Taking Corbin by the hand, she lead him out onto the dance floor, pausing to slip out of her twelve hundred dollar pair of pumps and place them under the raised platform via hair tendril. On her face was an eager smile, like a student sneaking off to play hooky. "C'mon, Corbin, this will be fun!" Hefting up the hem of her dress with both hands, she began to energetically dance to the music, spinning, hopping and shaking her booty; she held back a little to avoid getting too sexy for her underaged partner, and merely focused on having a good time.

The years not over yet, but I'll be happy to put one up before the end of the month. I'm gonna do one for each of my characters, mind you.

Create Object to conjure up the stone wall, natch.

The diminutive shapeshifter frowned in annoyance; clearly her rep as a local badass was far less widespread than she'd hoped. But her annoyance quickly evaporated when she saw the muzzles rise. Oh no, these guys are even dumber and more violent than they look! A thousand options flickered through her quicksilver mind in an instant, but the one common thread was a need to protect the old timey shopping lady, who upon closer inspection was a lot younger than she expected; maybe she was one of those weird live-action gamers she saw on campus? Finally Grim made a decision. Screw it, I can take a hit; I just hope surviving a bullet through the neck hasn't make me too cocky. Throwing out one hand, she conjured up a stone wall between herself and the LARPer, ten feet wide, six feet tall and a foot thick. Still keeping her eyes on her targets, she growled over the wall at the young eccentric, "Run, damn it!"

Grim's Initiative: 1d20+12=30 Yikes! I wish I'd gotten that roll later on something other than Initiative; oh well.

Grim was just about to put the hurt on these clowns when some goofy-looking librarian came clattering into the scene, holding up her skirt and everything. Wait a minute, was she a friend of Ms Wells? Was there another damn time disruption going on? When will these people learn the importance of timing? Suddenly Grimalkin appeared between the thieves and Miss Prim'n'Proper, her claws extended in a most menacing fashion; of course, she was losing the element of surprise here, but she couldn't let an innocent bystander get caught in a possible crossfire. "Miss, you really need to get your hoop-skirted ass out of here; this is a job for an angry crimefighter who likes to beat people up. Please return to your holiday shopping."