Dr Archeville

October 5th It was a good thing that she no longer needed to sleep as Phantom literally could not remember the last time she'd had any down time. At the moment she was 'meditating' which was to say, she was floating in space over the cemetery, concealed to all mortal and most supernatural senses and intangible with her eyes half closed and waiting. So much of this superhero game seemed to be waiting. The actual conflict was so sharp and so brief, but the sting... that could take hours and hours. So she sat, and floated and considered taking up sudoku. You never saw a superhero flipping through their iphone or working on a crossword but really, if someone came up with a heroic time killer, Phantom rather thought they'd make a mint. She glanced down at the still earth below and exhaled in frustration. Air, like food and sleep, was something she'd moved past. Still, like Jack, she mimicked her mortal friends habits. The difference, of course, between her and Jack was that his heart no longer beat. Hers still did. She assumed, at least. She hadn't checked but she imagined that Jack would notice if that particular bodily function stopped. Of course, how long had it been since they'd been... intimate? Phantom sighed again. She wished that he could have been here for this stake out but one place Avenger did not go was Lantern Hill. Someone, however, had to be on the lookout and it was one of the most ancient cemeteries in Freedom City. It was only a matter of time before it too was hit. While it did have its own defenders, a little extra couldn't hurt. Really, though, how different was she from the zombies? She didn't eat, or sleep or breathe. She could sit inert in deep space for eons and remain just as animate as she was today. Certainly, she looked a lot better than the restless undead but then, so did Jack. And he was most certainly no longer among the living. Just how human could she claim to be these days? Her only ties were her family and they seemed to be slipping ever farther away, along with her forgotten mortality. What set her apart from the shambling hordes? A groan drew her from her self-focused musing and like some great bird, she unfurled from her hiding place and descended up on them as they rose from the grave. Teeth snapped and met only air or when she was feeling particularly malevolent, another zombie's rotting flesh. Phantom focused and power rippled outward, turning the animated into immobile rotting corpses once more. What set her apart? Free will. Free will, and compassion. Phantom decided as she glanced around before checking her watch. Well, that and an impacted schedule. No zombie was ever so overbooked.

"Very nicely handled," Archeville congratulated his dance partner, "I had not realized you were so proficient at PR work." He leaned in closer, and whispered as softly as he could, "or that she was this agile and fluid. Again, kudos to you." He pulled back slightly, and while doing so the commotion near Victor caught his eye. He nodded in its direction, calling Miss Americana's attention to it. "I believe someone has had their photo taken while in a somewhat compromising position, and their attempts at damage control have drawn a crowd."

"Wesley Knight, yes?," he said while assembling... something. "I hear he has opened a tattoo and piercing shop. Have not heard how much of his work is via his own powers, though." "I have head of that bookstore," he continued, "but never been to it. Perhaps you could introduce me to the owner? I am always interested in learning new things, and if the staff there were able to help you in your supernatural research, I may have need for their services." Lynn's question was answered with another question. "I thought you did not need to drink, or eat? Immune to diseases and environmental temperature extremes, too, right? Ah, sorry, yes, of course you may, just try not to spill anything. What did your research turn up?"

added Vignettes from Cannonade, Fleur, and a joint one for Harrier & Miss Americana. 2 hours 10 minutes left to get 'em in!

October 31st I Got A Rock Cannonade was really tired of dealing with monsters. But the giant demon made of rocks apparently didn’t want to hear it. It had been a weird month for Southside. Everyone knew that Il Diavoli Neri and Los Diablos Rojos had started fighting – apparently, they’d decided there could only be one devil-themed gang in South Freedom. It was the usual for Cannonade over the first few nights – stopping shoot-outs, breaking up drug deals, interrupting assassinations. Nothing different. Then came the three-headed dog. Somehow Il Diavoli Neri had managed to garner some occult power and used it to dig one of Hades’ pets out of the Underworld. The thing had gone on a rampage, mainly working on Rojos holdings until Cannonade had managed to fashion an impromptu leash out of a downed power cable. Once the dog was incapacitated, Eldrich came by to banish it back to wherever. The Rojos responded in true Chicago style by summoning up a giant burning bull. The thing set fire to a strip club held by the Neri and was getting ready to go to work on the rest of the block when he’d wrestled it back. According to what Eldrich had said later, it was called the taureau-trois-graines, so named for three of a… certain feature. Cannonade had only found this out after landing a lucky shot with his boot that made the thing fall on its face. The danger of having three of those was it made things so much more sensitive. If it had only been the Rojos and the Neri, it would’ve been okay. But with all the summonings, apparently an express highway had been set up between this world and the other side. Meaning any gang banger with a handful of occult knowledge and a desire to wreak serious havoc could call something down. The Crusaders managed to get their hands on an Odinist who’d dug up a giant snake. The guy who summoned it up said it was “the spawn of he that gnaws at Yggdrasil,” but Cannonade hadn’t managed to get much more out of him before punching him into unconsciousness. The snake had been a bit tougher, but it still went down. The Yellow Kings… There were tentacles involved. That was all Cannonade remembered, and all he wanted to remember. And now this guy. Apparently the 4Ses were tired of being upstaged in the “summoning up great ancient evil” department, so they decided to bind a demon. But they must have gotten a syllable wrong or something, because this guy had just burst screaming out of an apartment building and started causing the street to tear itself in half. Cannonade leaped to it, trying to find a weak spot in the guy’s stony skin. But the guy was tough as concrete, and he threw Cannonade right through the window of a bodega. After getting his wits together, Cannonade looked out to the street. The demon had plunged his hands into the ripped-up street, and was touching the earth beneath. Already he could feel the tremors starting; this guy was trying to start an earthquake. He felt around for purchase, his hand finding a rolling glass tube. He looked at it. Hello… The demon was obviously busy. Glass was starting to shake in storefronts, and cracks were forming in the asphalt where he stood. Which is why he didn’t notice when the devotional candle went flying through the air. In fact, he didn’t notice until the glass shattered against him, spilling wax all over his rocky carapace. The demon screamed as the consecrated candle wax burned against his body. The volley was soon joined by other candles, until the demon looked like a birthday cake left lit for too long. When enough of his chest was covered to make a fine target, Cannonade came running out from under cover. “Hey!” he yelled. “When you get back down there—" He ran towards the demon at full speed, driving his fist into the wax-covered area. It yielded like taffy, going right through and out to the other side. “—tell ‘em to stay out of Southside.” The demon let out a strangled stream, then collapsed into a pile of stones at Cannonade’s feet. He exhaled, then made sure the coast was clear. When all seemed calm, he went back to the deli across the way and knocked on the glass. The eight kids in costumes came out soon after. “Is he gone?” one of them asked. Cannonade went back to the middle of the street, then kicked the rocks. “Yeah, looks like it,” he said. “So, where do you guys want to go next?” “Grove Street!” “Okay. Grove Street it is.”

October 31st Damn Good Heroes The dead were rising, here and there and everywhere, and in an isolated part of Lincoln, something even worse was happening. An Omegadrone had taken to the sky. As the animated dead shook the locked iron gates of the Lincoln Municipal Cemetery, Harrier hovered overhead, his jetpack burning a brilliant red and black, thinking fast. _They crave the flesh of the living: the innocents. I must make sure they don’t escape._ With a roar of burning fuel, he flew over the heads of the moaning zombies, landing inside the cemetery's walls, and fired repeatedly into the mass of zombies, the powerful bombardment exploding several. Just as he’d hoped, the attack got their attention, and the mass of Lincoln zombies turned on the lone Omegadrone in their midst. As the mob turned, Harrier snapped his pike to melee combat mode, the blade buzzing like a dentist’s drill with focused energy. Only belatedly did he realize what else had happened: his heavy footfalls, or his blasts, or even just the scent of life leaking through his armor, had triggered another rising. A rising of _all_ the zombies. There are more of them than I thought. High above the city, Miss Americana was struggling to conceal the panic that she felt. This was not the magnitude of hero work that she had signed on for when she’d decided to leave cyberspace for Freedom City IRL. Now there were zombies everywhere, and freaky things happening, and she didn’t even know where to start, or what to do, or how to help! Part of her was tempted to fly back to the basement and just lay low, if not give up entirely. But she had the power to help, and she’d promised herself she was going to start a new life. She couldn’t give up now. Just as she made that resolution, her attention was grabbed by a mass of zombies mobbing a familiar figure. Harrier moved with a cold, mechanical precision, striking at the zombies at every turn. Sever the legs. Destroy the brain. Sever the legs. Destroy the brain. He’d fought enemies who had to be destroyed in ways like this before, and was calling on all his experience in combat to stay calm as the stink of rotting flesh splattered against his blank faceplate. I am not in the arena. They are not proles. I am in Lincoln. I am defending the neighborhood. He ignored the screams of the imaginary crowd of proles in ihs mind, and concentrated instead on destroying zombies. It was easier than it might have been: they didn’t scream like the living as he sliced them in half, then stabbed deep to destroy the brain, slowly walking backwards as an ever-growing mass of them swarmed all around him. I must distract them. I must. “Harrier!” Miss A called, swooping down into the fray, lasers shooting from her hands in a brightly colored shower. “You look like you could use a little help!” She stayed just out of reach of the zombies, picking them off one after another with pointed gun-fingers, like a little kid playing Wild West duel. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” He stepped forward and drove his pike upwards into the brain of a particularly large zombie, then flipped the blade around and fired a blast through the doors of a nearby mausoleum just as its angry occupants pulled it open, destroying a half-dozen unquiet dead at once. “I appreciate your help. There are many of these things here. If they escape the walls,” he added, “they will assault the neighborhood. The police presence has been called off the streets to other positions. The people are alone.” “Well then,” she said with perfect confidence, at least on the surface, “we just won’t let them escape the walls.” Spreading her fingers wide, she beamspammed the crowd of zombies, knocking down a score of them all at once. “The people aren’t alone as long as the heroes are still working. Do we know if anyone’s trying to find the source of all this and stop it?” “I have intercepted radio transmissions to that effect.” He joined her in ranged firing, picking off zombies in the rear of the crowd to let Miss A concentrate on the ones close by. “But the traffic is very heavy.” He felt a rumble in the ground beneath their feet, and his featureless armored face looked down. “There is a battle underground as well.” For the moment, at least, the number of zombies rising seemed to have tapered off, and they were left with the crowd in the cemetery with them. One severed head bit him on the ankle, its teeth breaking in a moment before an irritated Harrier bisected it with his energized blade. “Do we know if those things are contagious?” Miss A asked, looking at Harrier’s leg with some concern. “Or is that just something from the movies?” She was a bit worried about the idea of Harrier being able to intercept radio transmissions, but the ones she broadcast were so well scrambled, even if he could pick them up, she was sure he couldn’t decode them. To give her laser time to cool down, she picked up a zombie and threw it at its fellows, sending all of them crashing hard into the wall of a mausoleum. “My armor was unbroken,” replied Harrier, cocking his head as he studied the faint scratch marks on the surface of the Terminus steel. “I have been exposed to biological agents of a similar nature before,” he added shortly, opting not to fill in the blanks. No one wanted to hear about those. “As long as my armor is activated, I am shielded against organic attacks.” A fast burst of rapid-fire into that mausoleum’s flank caused a further collapse, pinning the zombies down as he picked them off one by one. “Good to know,” Miss A told him. “I think we may be stemming the tide here. I wonder if every cemetery in the city is emptying the way this one has. We could have our work cut out for us. Behind you!” she called suddenly, as a couple more zombies lurched out of the ground just behind the ex-drone. She drilled one with her lasers just before it could leap on Harrier’s back and go for his neck. Under another wave, Harrier returned to combat mode. Miss A had noted that he didn’t talk, and didn’t react to much as he fought, simply striking and blasting, over and over again, zombie parts coating the black, spiked metal of his armor. Luckily, the zombies were hideous enough that it wasn’t too bizarre watching an Omegadrone tear through the ranks of humanity. Suddenly, after one last great double-bombardment, he spoke. “It is unlikely this animation will overcome the superheroes of Freedom City. They have overcome greater threats than this before.” “Your mouth to God’s ear!” Miss A called back, using precision strikes to pick off zombies in strategic places, bottlenecking their fellows and keeping Harrier clear to do the mass waves of destruction the Omegadrone was almost disturbingly good at. “We can hold out, at least, as long as someone is working on cutting off the flow. Given the age of Freedom City, the number of graveyards present, and the probable number of bodies in each cemetery, we could be fighting all night and not finish with them.” “It would take significant orbital bombardment to destroy that many ground-bound targets,” agreed the former Omegadrone as if that sort of thing was the subject of conversation of normal people. “The civilizations on this planet would need some hours of work to construct devices of sufficient amplitude. But the local champions defeated an Invasion.” He put capital letters on the word while speaking aloud, and Miss A was smart enough to know what he meant. “They will deal with this without the need for significant firepower.” He was about to say more when flashes of light caught his attention, and he cocked his head, turning his whole upper body to see a small group of people inside an apartment complex overlooking the cemetery. They were taking pictures; pictures of himself and Miss A. “They must have witnessed our struggle on the ground.” “It’s all right,” Miss A assured him. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, we’re almost done with this cemetery. If there’s any bad publicity for you about this, which is unlikely, we’ll just spin it. That’s why it’s good to have friends with the ear of the media.” She gave him a quick wink, even as she tucked her arms and dove, her super-speed and strength bowling over an entire line of zombies like dominoes. They were at the work for hours, the two of them finding it easier to fight together than alone, gradually clearing away more and more of the walking dead from the streets of Lincoln. This wasn’t a neighborhood of the rich and powerful, or the young and beautiful, this was a working-class neighborhood full of people who needed heroes. And for a little while, at least, the gorgeous Miss A and the scary Harrier gave them exactly that. As night fell and the neighborhood got quiet, Harrier caught police signals from elsewhere in the city. “The dead are beginning to retreat. If they are mindless, then the tide has turned.” “Thank God.” Though Miss A was possessed of superhuman speed and a tireless body, she was obviously slowing down, her reaction time growing slower and her shots more sporadic. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. It’s like rollout day on a new server.” She seemed to shake herself, drawing herself upright once again. “But in any case, we’re here till it’s over and done with. Hopefully, that’s very soon. I owe whoever’s stopping them a drink.” “Yes,” agreed the Omegadrone, the tip of his power pike glowing in the dark like a gigantic lit cigarette. “It has been a long day.” He seemed fatigued, but not particularly traumatized by the legions of corpses they’d destroyed that day. He cast a look over at Miss A, as always his face hidden, and then at the neighborhood beneath their feet, the two of them both having taken to the air to patrol as the initial wave of monsters had died down. “I had heard that some of the dead who returned spoke, and had minds of their own. It is better that we encountered none here.” “Yeah,” Miss A agreed with a sigh. “What we got is bad enough.” Eventually there were no more zombies to fight, and only the most dedicated or paranoid of heroes continued searching through the city for any that might not have retreated. Miss A spiraled down to land, her turns a bit drunken from exhaustion. “I’m going home now,” she told Harrier. “That was good work tonight. We’re pretty damn good heroes.” Several nights later, a story about sightings of a heroic Omegadrone battling the zombie hordes made the back pages of the Freedom City Herald. Murdock neatly taped the cut-out pages to his wall, and remembered Miss A's words. Maybe I am. Maybe I am, at that.

October 31st. Going Solo Stesha woke up that morning missing Derrick fiercely. That was odd in itself, not the missing Derrick part, but the waking up. Missing Derrick had become a near-constant ache inside her, with him so far away, saving people so strange that her skin would burn if she entered their corrosive atmosphere. He'd been able to come home for the occasional weekend, but even the last of those had been in September. She wasn't only lonely, she was worried sick. What could have happened to him to leave him incommunicado and so far beyond the range of help? She'd had to call off the wedding, of course, telling her parents the truth and letting them come up with excuses on her behalf. Now every time she did an altar blanket or handed a bride the bouquet she'd take down the aisle, some part of her just wanted to cry. It wasn't fair. In any case, it was the waking up part that was weird, since it certainly wasn't her usual habit to sleep at night, especially not to fall asleep on the couch in the middle of her favorite TV show and stay there all night! The unusual rest had not done anything good for her back, or for her stomach which decided to throw last night's taco's back in her face (though only metaphorically, thank God.) This bachelorette lifestyle was not good for her! It didn't help that winter was coming, and the lack of sun from that plus all the work she was doing meant she wasn't getting all the solar energy she was used to. But she could at least change that, she decided. Tonight she would turn all her sunlamps on herself and bask in them till she felt totally recharged, not to mention nicely warmed. She was preoccupied enough with that idea that it took her several minutes to register the fact that things were happening outside. The screaming was what she noticed first, and it had her racing to the window. People were running past, pursued by hordes of... were those zombies? Crap! Something had obviously gone very wrong with her tidy world. Fleur tossed on her costume and zipped out to the street, making her way through the crowds that surged and panicked. As she went, she moved people to safety, one at a time or in big groups, anything to get them out of the way of the undead teeth! Her sanctuary would hold them safe long enough for her to at least figure out exactly where the threat was coming from, and where a safe place on this world might be! As she moved through the crowd, she inevitably came to the trailing edge, where most of the action was happening. Here things got trickier. She ran through the crowd as though she were playing a game of freeze tag where she was it. Tag a civilian, he was teleported off to Sanctuary. Tag a zombie, off to the dimensional pocket purgatory. Stesha rapidly lost count of how many of each she tagged, and she took a few tags herself, though nothing that would take her out of the fight. At least the sun was out, so the cuts and scrapes healed themselves quickly once she put down her hood and exposed her hair. If it had been nighttime, she'd have been in big trouble. When things got especially hairy, she whipped out the rest of her arsenal, wrapping and tripping zombies with long vines, throwing them into buildings, even animating the trees themselves to form a protective perimeter around her all-too-squishy human body. It was a shock to suddenly turn around and find that there was no one left to save or fight. The downtown intersection she was in was empty in all directions, not a zombie nor a civilian to be found! She was sure it was pretty tight quarters in her sanctuary, to say nothing of the small dimensional pocket, but it would be okay for the moment. Exhausted and a little woozy, Stesha leaned against a lamppost and let the weak autumn sun beat down on her head. She'd done it by herself, she realized. The Freedom League hadn't been there, Derrick hadn't been there, Taylor or another hero far more powerful than herself hadn't been there. She'd come a long way since she'd first become a hero, and now she really could take on threats on her own. She really hadn't expected that achievement to make her feel so lonely. No time to dwell on that now, though! With one last look around, Stesha teleported away, looking for another trouble spot that needed a hero of its own.

archived due to inactivity

archived due to inactivity

archived due to inactivity

archived due to inactivity

reminder: when you make a GM post, please add [GM] or (GM) to the subject line (that line directly above the format buttons)

"" Archeville replied to the host in their native tongue, "" The approach of an investigative journalist caught his eye, "Joan! A pleasure to see you again!" He returned the hug gently, "Lovely dress, too. I cannot say that I am surprised to see so many inventors her -- our is an expensive business, and our own patents can only earn so much." When Fassbinder slid over to Collier, Archeville turned back to Miss Americana. Ever-so-slightly biting his lower lip, he offered her his arm, "shall we dance?" He leaned in a bit and in a lowered tone added, "being so conspicuous so early will help keep eyes on us, and the more eyes on us, the more funds for ArcheTech."

[floatr][/floatr]Players Name: Dr. Archeville Characters Name: Dead Head Power Level: 13 (198/207PP) Trade-Offs: +1 Attack / -1 Damage, -5 Defense / +5 Toughness Unspent PP: 9 Progress To Orichalcum Status: 102/180 (Impervium status earned with Doktor Archeville) In Brief: The Revoltin' Revenant, enemy to graverobbers and death-warpers, friend to all children! Alternate Identities: Burton "Burt" Lee Identity: Secret Birthplace: Durham, North Carolina, USA Occupation: Advocate, Ghostbuster, Psychopomp Affiliations: Midnighters Family: David Lee (Father), Jamie Lee (Mother), Keith Lee (Brother), Katherine Lee (Sister), numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins; all believe Burt Lee died ten years ago. Age: 33 (DoB: October 1977) Apparent Age: Early 20s? Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian (some Irish on his mother's side, some English from his father's side) Height: 6'2" (1.88 m) Weight: 170 lbs. (77.11 kg) Eyes: Ectoplasmic Blue-Green Flames (formerly Green flames, formerly Blue) Hair: White-Grey (formerly Platinum-Blonde) Description: Dead Head is a mostly preserved corpse, dry though not quite mummy-like, with purplish-gray skin and wild white hair. Sometimes he creaks when he moves. He smells like tobacco and spices and rum, and his eyes glow with a soft blue-green light. He still doesn't get out to the shops much, but has been raiding Avenger's old wardrobe for outfits to supplement what he gets from dumpster diving (a habit he has not, and probably never will, break); he enjoys wearing a noose as a necktie. He still carries a shovel, but now he's usually able to get new ones instead of using rusty discarded ones. His voice still sounds like a harsh, strained whisper, with an eerie reverb when speaking when he shouldn't be able to (like when his head is detached from his body). Power Descriptions: Dead Head's resilience still comes not from being so tough that attacks bounce off, but rather that blasts and bullets and fists go through him harmlessly. His eyes constantly glow with a cyan light, which flares when using his Comprehend and Enhanced Feats powers. History: For full history and background, see his Wiki page, or the earlier character sheet at the beginning of this thread. [floatl][/floatl]By September 2009, he had made his way to Freedom City, perhaps the hub for superpowered and mystical activity in the world. He opposed numerous cults and necromancers, as well as some more traditional supervillains and even few Grue kaiju, but things came to a head for him on Halloween 2010. On the 50th anniversary of his imprisonment in Tartarus, Hades, Greek God of the Underworld, tried to manifest on Earth, but was stopped by a group of heroes and Baron Samedi and his agents. During the battle, something stepped out of Dead Head: Papa Ghede, Baron Samedi's good counterpart. When Malador and Samedi had opened that rift a decade ago, it was to a prison dimension holding a pseudonatural monstrosity. Ghede and some other gods rushed to close it, but the Horror fought back, and dealt him a severe blow. Desperately seeking some spot to recuperate, Ghede went to the one place available: Burton Lee. He backtracked the mystical link the Horror had set up, which it had just sent a portion of its essence into. Due to the restrictions of The Pact, Ghede still needed Burt's permissions to inhabit his body... but he was dead, his soul about to be intercepted and consumed by the Horror. Ghede had to act fast, and offered Burt a deal: he'd save him from the Horror, resurrect him, let him continue amongst the mortal world, if he could hole up in him for a bit. Burt, not really wanting to be dead (or Horror-chow), agreed... but there was an unexpected hitch. The alterations the Horror had made to Burt's mind/soul, as well as the damage it caused when it lashed out and tried to send a portion of itself into him, altered his metaphyiscal being such that when the wounded Ghede tried to bond with Burt, he was instead trapped and in a state of semi-hibernation; the resurrection also went awry, bringing Burt back as a type of super-powerful zombie, constantly rotting yet regenerating. The increased magical activities of the past month finally roused Ghede, who spent some time cleaning and undoing the damage the pseudonatural Horror had done to Burt before manifesting and carrying Baron Samedi and Hades away. He planned to take Burt's spirit with him to Guinee, where he would be rewarded in final rest, but he pleaded to stay, and his friends rallied for him. Ghede allowed it, altering him to be more resilient and left him one of Legba's hounds, to make up for the loss of his ability to animate and resurrect the dead. Fortunately for Dead Head, he knew a few powerful and skilled mages and benevolent necromancers, who could help him relearn those abilities. Personality & Motivation: At first, Burt was exceedingly depressed and horrified about his condition. All his friends were dead, twice over, and his family thought he was gone. Lacking any ties to the world of the living, he wandered and did what he could for the dead, but some of them wanted him to do horrible things. He never did them, but being constantly exposed to those requests didn't help his mood. Over the past few years, though, Burt has learned to lighten up -- thanks in part by helping to bring peaceful closure to several families -- and to even enjoy some aspects of his condition (like his Anatomic Separation power). Of course, given his appearance, voice, and mannerisms, his humor is very much in the vein of Tales from the Crypt's Crypt Keeper. He is, in fact, very much like a member of The Addams Family: compassionate and loving, friendly to all he meets, eager to help strangers in times of need, tolerant to a fault... and largely incapable of noticing how creepy and wrong he comes off, or just how badly his "idle fun" (like snapping off a hand and having it crawl around like a spider) unnerves some people. He has, of course, made a few enemies, and holds particular types of criminals with special distaste. Baron Samedi and Malador both wanted him, either to lead their armies of undead monstrosities, or to rip out whatever power is in him and add it to their own; now Samedi wants him destroyed just out of spite. Hades has also become an enemy, due to his role in preventing his possession of/merging with Daedalus. Burt himself takes special interest in cases involving children (especially those who weren't able to fully enjoy life) and those who disturb the dead (such as graverobbers and most necromancers). [floatr][/floatr]Powers & Tactics: Since losing his connection to Papa Ghede, Dead Head has lost much of his power. He's still monstrously tough and near-impossible to put down -- in fact, his body repairs itself even faster than before -- and he can still communicate with and even grab spirits of the dead, but he can no longer animate or raise them as he once could. He has recently re-learned how to control himself if separated into three pieces, and a new trick: taking on the appearance, sound, and even smell of anyone who has died. Good for confronting a murderer with their victims, bad for trying to sneak into guarded areas. His Fearsome Presence can be either contorting his body in hideous ways, channeling the chill finality of the grave, or making himself look like the decayed remains of someone the person knew. Complications: Appearance: It's a zomumbie! Eek! Enemies: Baron Samedi, Hades, and Malador are the big three. Then there's all the graverobbers, organlegging rings, and death-cults he's busted up. Pain Don't Hurt: Dead Head feels no pain, literally. He wouldn't know there's a knife stuck in his back unless someone points it out to him. This could get problematic if he's in a situation where he's being damaged but doesn't directly see it. Spare Change? Chaaange? : No job, legally dead, gets most of his clothes from the dumpsters behind the Goodwill and Salvation Army (or Avenger's closet). Temper/Hatred: Dead Head has a special dislike of those who harm children or disturb the dead. Abilities: 14 + 4 + (-10) + 2 + 0 + 2 = 12PP Strength: 24 (+7), 29 Lifting (Shovel) Dexterity: 14 (+2) Constitution: - Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 10 (+0) Charisma: 12 (+1) Combat: 10 + 8 = 18PP Initiative: +2 Attack: +5 Ranged, +9 Melee, +13 Shovel Grapple: +14, +15 Shovel Defense: +8 (+4 Base, +4 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Knockback: -15, -9 vs Blessed, Magic, or Silver Saving Throws: 0 + 4 + 6 = 10PP Toughness: +18 (Impervious 12 [not vs Blessed, Magic, or Silver]) Fortitude: - Reflex: +6 (+2 Dex, +4) Will: +6 (+0 Wis, +6) Skills: 44R = 11PP Disguise 0 (+1, +31 Morph) Intimidate 16 (+17) Knowledge (Arcane Lore) 9 (+10) Knowledge (Life Sciences) 2 (+3) Knowledge (Popular Culture) 4 (+5) Knowledge (Theology & Philosophy) 9 (+10) Sense Motive 4 (+4) Feats: 20PP All-Out Attack Attack Focus (Melee) 4 Attack Specialization (Shovel) 2 Dodge Focus 4 Equipment 1 (5EP) Fearless Minion 0 (+15 Veteran Reward) Power Attack Ritualist Sneak Attack Startle 2 (Move Action) Takedown Attack 2 Powers: 3 + 4 + 2 + 2 + 30 + 1 + 6 + 3 + 15 + 18 + 34 + 1 + 6 + 2 = 127PP Anatomic Separation 1 (Extras: Variable Split) [3PP] Comprehend 1 (Spirits, Feats: Contacts, Well-Informed) [4PP] Enhanced Strength 0 (Feats: Affects Insubstantial 2) [2PP] Features 2 (Internal Compartment, Jack of All Trades) [2PP] Immunity 30 (Fortitude Effects) [30PP] Immunity 2 (Critical Hits, Flaws: Limited [Not vs Blessed, Magic, or Silver]) [1PP] Impervious Toughness 12 (Flaws: Limited [Not vs Blessed, Magic, or Silver]) [6PP] Insubstantial 1 (Drawbacks: Action 2 [standard]) [3PP] (Disturbingly Limber) Necromancy 6 (12PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power 3) [15PP] Base Power: Anatomic Separation 2 (Rank 3, Extras: Action [Free] [3], Variable Split [2]) [9PP] + Flight 1 (10mph / 100ft per Move Action, Flaws: Limited [Only when head is detached]) [1PP] ("Fall To Pieces," "Aspect of The Penanggalan") [9 + 1 = 10PP] Alternate Power: Enhanced Feats 12 (Fearsome Presence 12 [60ft radius, DC22]) [12PP] ("Boo!") Alternate Power: Morph 6 (Any Humanoid, +30 Disguise, Flaws: Limited [Dead People], Feats: Covers Scent, Precise) [8PP] ("Faces of Death") Protection 18 [18PP] Regeneration 32 (Recovery 14 [+9], Recovery Rate: Injured 6 [No Action], Disabled 5 [1 minute], Resurrection 7 [1 minute], Feats: Persistent, Regrowth) [34PP] Speed 1 (10mph / 100ft per Move Action) [1PP] (Undead Stamina) Super-Senses 7 (Darkvision [Drawbacks: Noticeable], Magic Awareness 3 [Mental], Mental Awareness 2 [Mental]) [6PP] Enhanced Super-Senses 4 (Acute Analytical Mental Senses [All], Flaws: Limited [Necromantic Effects]) [2PP] Drawbacks: -0PP None DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC22(24*) Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Necromancy Touch/Area DC22 Will (Staged) Shaken/Frightened/Panicked Shovel Touch DC24(26*) Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) *Sneak Attack Abilities (12) + Combat (18) + Saving Throws (10) + Skills (11) + Feats (20) + Powers (127) - Drawbacks (0) = 198/207 Power Points Characters Name: A Mutt (a pun on the name of a certain other critter) Alternate names: Carcass, ScrapsPower Level: 6/10 (150/150pp) Trade-Offs: None Unspent PP: 0 [floatr] Ain't he the cutest thing?![/floatr]In Brief: Dead Head's faithful hound! Description: A mix of Mastiff (Neopolitan and Tibetan), Newfoundland, and Saint Bernard, standing about two feet (~0.6m) tall at the shoulder. Most foes only see his terrible jaws and glowing red eyes, though. History: One of Papa Legba's loyal hounds, loaned to Dead Head after the events of the Hades/Samedi debacle. Personality & Motivation: Much like Dead Head, A Mutt is friendly, loyal, protective, and tolerant. A Mutt loves the water, as fitting a creature from Guinee, the Island Beneath the Sea. He is highly intelligent (for a dog), and very protective of children. Powers & Tactics: A Mutt is a spirit, and as such naturally exists in an incorporeal and invisible/inaudible/un-sensable form. He can run up walls and across the air with ease, and his mighty jaws can bite corporeal and insubstantial foes, whether he is corporeal or not; these wounds are slow to heal. He can let our a baleful howl, far more terrifying than the call of any mere wolf. Most impressive of all, though, is his extraordinary sense of smell, which allows him to track creatures even across other dimensions! Abilities: [6 + 4 + 10 + -4 + 4 + 0 = 20pp] Str 16 (+3) Dex 14 (+2) Con 20 (+5) Int 6 (-2) Wis 14 (+2) Cha 10 (+0) Combat: [8 on Attack, 8 on Defense = 16pp] Attack +4 (ranged), +6 (melee) Grapple +9 Damage +4 (bite); +2 more w/ Sneak Attack Defense +6 (+4 Base, +2 Dodge Focus), +2 flat-footed Knockback -3 Initiative +2 Saves: [0 + 3 + 3 = 6pp] Toughness +6 Fort +5 (+5 Con, +0) Ref +5 (+2 Dex, +3) Will +5 (+2 Wis, +3) Skills: [48 ranks = 12pp] Intimidate 14 (+14) Notice 13 (+15) Stealth 13 (+15) Survival 8 (+10) Feats: [18 feats] Attack Focus (Melee) 2 Dodge Focus 2 Fearsome Presence 10 Improved Trip Skill Mastery (Intimidate, Notice, Stealth, Survival) Sneak Attack Startle Powers: [21 + 3 + 12 + 26 + 10 + 1 + 9 = 82pp] Concealment 10 (all non-Mental senses; PFs: Selective) [21PP] Note: Duration is reversed (a +0 Extra). It is an active sustained effect for him to be un-concealed, and if unable to sustain the power, he goes completely concealed.Flight 1 ("air walking"; 10 mph / 100 feet per Move Action; PF: Subtle) [3PP] Immunity 12 (aging, life support, need for sleep, starvation/thirst) [12PP] Insubstantial 4 (ghost form; affected by blessed, magical or silver attacks; Extra: Duration [Continuous]; PFs: Selective, Subtle) [26PP] Note: Duration is reversed (a +0 Extra). It is an active sustained effect for him to be corporeal, and if unable to sustain the power, he goes completely incorporeal.ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed/Claws Melee DC 18 Toughness Damage (Staged) Jaws, Standard Melee DC 19 Toughness Damage (Staged) +2 more to DC w/ Sneak Attack Jaws, Soul-Shred Melee DC 19 Fortitude Damage (Staged) Totals: Abilities 20 + Combat 16 + Saves 6 + Skills 12 (48 ranks) + Feats 18 + Powers 82 - Drawbacks 4 = 150/151 Power Points :arrow: Removing Player Reward that let me bump my PL 7 slot to PL 10. :arrow: :arrow: Begin 105pp (PL 7). Earned pp: 5 (Oct 2009) + 6 (Nov 2009) + 1 (Dec 2009) + 3 (Jan 2010) + 1 (Feb 2010) + 4 (Mar 2010) + 6 (Apr 2010) + 4 (May 2010) + 4 (Jun 2010) + 5 (July 2010) + 3 (Aug 2010) + 6 (Sep 2010) +6 (projected for Oct 2010) = +54pp earned. 105 + 54 = 159pp = PL 10. :arrow: Using that Reward instead for a Minion. I'd considered a crow or raven, but wanted to keep it in the Voodoo pantheon, and the only bird primarily associated with them are chickens and black roosters.

Archeville firmly shook Felix's hand when he introduced himself, and smiled warmly. "Thank you for the invite, Herr Fassbinder! I must say, this is an outstanding estate you have here!" He took the champagne from the waitress, but did not drink, instead merely holding it. Victory's arrival grabbed the super-scientist's attention, partly because he was glad to see another familiar face. "A pleasure to see you again, too," he replied, shaking the cyborg's hand. "As for knowing more about science, well, I am sure Doktor Volk can help you. Ah, will she be joining us this evening?" When Felix returned, Archeville took the time to glance about the room. Well, to an outsider, it appeared he was merely glancing over the room, but for him, it was a detailed look at everyone and everything within his sweeping field of vision.

3 September 2010 While going through some old papers, I found an old journal entry, on how I would present myself to the world, including copious notes on how I would speak. But ever since I 'cast' that 'summoning spell' at Jack and Taylor's house, my Other has been silent -- no, purged! -- I do not need to carry on the charade! I can speak now in day-to-day interactions as I do with my closest friends and allies. But how to account for it? I certainly do not want to advertise my prior mental problems, that my exaggerated accent was a compromise with my Other self (who insisted I speak only in German, "the one truly civilized tongue," it would say)... perhaps a consultation with the spin doctors at ArcheTech's PR department is in order. Perhaps something along the lines of "presenting a less Euro-centric front in order to better entice American investors."

"No, my mother was Sinti. Ah, Romani, or Gypsy; another persecuted group," he replied, his tone fading slightly as it had when he'd spoken of his father. "As I said, she passed away due to complications during my birth, so I never knew her or her side of the family." His tone quickly snapped back, though, and with a sharp clap he resumed his animated style. "Yes, tests! Ah, and I see you are looking at my blacksmith's forge with great trepidation! Which goes along with your 'fae' nature, yes? Ah, silly me!," he exclaimed as he lead Lynn to a nearby chair, still well away from the forge. "Here I have been monopolizing the conversation, going on about myself, when it is you, your abilities and your past, we should be focusing on!" He pulled out some assorted scanning equipment from drawers and cabinets and placed them on a nearby table, "So, were about to tell me what happened after Nanowire... ah, the 'hardcore faerie stuff', yes?"

He's obviously a well-dressed and handsome (Charisma 26 + Attractive) man!

Vignettes for Dragonfly and Victory are up!

October 31st, in the evening Mara Hallomen sat on the floor in the corner of her darkened warehouse, disheveled, knees to her chest. With wide, empty eyes she looked up at a program running on her computer. estimated duration 11:20 - have to stay alive and sane for 11 hours and 20 minutes - have to stay aware - have to stay together - I am me - I am my own - I am free She shuddered, and the world melted away.... 5 Hours Ago Dragonfly scowled, wiping a hand across her face and slowly turning her head to give the dealer a very angry eye. He couldn’t meet her gaze, though: he was unconscious, along with the rest of his friends. His last desperate act was to give her a face full of...something. unknown substance - analyze at home - call cops - pr-j-ct 2-0-- u--ini-hed wo-k in----lete p-----t- -re b-- m--t --t b- ba- s--po--- to -e a g--d ---l She blinked. what....? 140160 Hours Ago Blocks were pretty fun, Mara had decided. The nice men in the suits had given them to her - she liked them. They brought things! And these could be put on top of each other to great effect. The old blocks just had letters, and letters were boring. But these blocks had numbers! Numbers and neat symbols. She’d figured out what those symbols meant a while ago, but she was awfully clever...the adults didn’t know! They were her symbols, for her games, not for them. Her secret things. Still, the men in suits were so nice. Maybe she’d give them one of the symbols when they left. In the meantime, she started putting the blocks together; this number and that one and those...with these symbols...there! All balanced and neat. Numbers were awesome. Behind her, the men in suits watched and nodded. They were talking to her mother, but that was okay, they’d been doing that for a while. Her mother was awesome and tough! If they weren’t nice suit men, she’d make them go away. She did last time! 3 Hours Ago It was getting harder...to think. Her thoughts, anyway. Her identity, her own personal drive, was having to tread water to stay afloat among a resurgence of thoughts and feelings she didn’t want to remember...didn’t want in her head. Broken, mechanical thoughts, all arranged in chaotic perfect order to meet and serve the ends of... no - don’t think about it - push it away - no blind projects no happy project-solving no mindless compliance The screen was running analysis - zombie powder couldn’t have done this to her head. It had to be some kind of bad interaction between things still in her system and the powder itself, some bad slippage or regression or... She pulled her visor off, rubbing the bridge of her nose and wishing the computer would analyze faster. She’d pulled some strings to get this program and she needed to know how long this would last and how bad it could get. 48180 Hours Ago The project wasn’t complete but it had to be complete because there were very important - no, not important, never important, only important thing was the work and the work had to be done because there was always so much of it and this wasn’t nearly lethal enough it had to reach at least 80% mortality rate maybe if the radiation was more aggressive? multiple planes of application boost frequency here extra power drain but the cells can take it special order - no, not order, special challenge, just for her because she was important - friendly fire not important design unfinished too many projects may have to skip sleep again have to meet deadlines have to work alone better that way more...more.... Mara slumped a bit, hanging her head and rubbing the bridge of her nose. She was just so...tired, like she’d been at this for...how long? She was having a hard time keeping track...there were no clocks here, clocks encouraged weakness. The pile of design papers to her left was getting thicker and thicker...she wasn’t sure when that had happened. She knew she had to get at least three of them done by the end of the week, but she didn’t...didn’t...why, again? Why make all these things that hurt all these people, when The telepath near the ever-locked door looked up from his newspaper, and narrowed his eyes. Suddenly it didn’t matter why, or when, or how; the project had to be finished, and it was a simple as that. All questions were forgotten; they weren’t important to the engineering task at hand. And what a task! The power cell would need to be redesigned, the barrel would need some kind of shaped twisting on the inside to keep from wearing down and no maybe it wouldn’t work that way perhaps an electric field was better static is sustainable in some compounds and those can line the center only if a barrel is necessary at all radiation could be directed through any number of ways and spread isn’t always bad because it can hit more targets that way and perhaps that better fit the design request that she’d gotten because she was special and only she could provide what was needed for very important tasks that she didn’t need to know about. Unfinished projects were bad. It was very important that she not be bad, because she was supposed to be a good girl, because...because...because that’s just what was important. 0 Hours Ago Somewhere just outside the warehouse her defense system took out another of the zombies that were wandering the area lately with the usual whine and discharge. She didn’t notice, blinking her way back to reality like a swimmer coming up for air, even then barely aware of what was going on around her. Mara Hallomen sat on the floor in the corner of her darkened warehouse, disheveled, knees to her chest. With wide, empty eyes she looked up at a program running on her computer. estimated duration 11:15 - have to stay alive and sane for 11 hours and 15 minutes - have to stay aware - have to stay together - I am me - I am my own - I am free I am me I am my own I am free I am me I am my own I am free

October 31st, 2010, late afternoon. Riverside Park Fire in the Sky “My superiors and I appreciate you all allowing me to accompany you all. It’s a real honor just being in the presence of even one of you. Let alone the entire League!†Victory floats above the ground, his jets mostly aimed towards the ground, with just a couple on the back of his shoulders slowly moving him forward, a smile on his face. Alongside him in the sky, a familiar figure, of similar colors to Victory, smiles and shakes his head. “Now, no need to be so humble. We’re willing to accept the extra hand. But next time, make sure your superiors let us know earlier.†A few hours before, Freedom Hall: “So wait…you’re telling me Director Powers sent you here…on a hunch?†Bowman was adjusting the fletching on his arrows, looking up to give their visitor a doubtful look. “Well, I don’t totally understand it, myself. But those are my orders. With all the craziness that’s been going on this month, the higher-ups at AEGIS thought it was important to pool our resources, just in case. Something big’s going down, and we just want to be sure that all bases are covered.†Victory, for his part, was doing his best to sound professional, but it was pretty tough to maintain that front when he’s in the presence of the Freedom League, of all people! …Although their skepticism is making it much easier to keep calm. As he awaits their response, they exchange looks among each other, as if silently asking each other what they think. But before they all seem to come to a consensus, Daedalus steps forward, with a smile on his face. “Well, I for one think we could use the extra hand, all things considered. Unless anyone else has a good reason not to accept?†None of them seem to have any direct objection, so it seems they’re agreed…. Present, The Freedom League and their guest begin to slow their collective movement as they begin to approach the Centurion’s Memorial. An odd place to be led when there are other places already in trouble, but they were assured that they were needed here. Victory, not having any personal experience with any of them, finds it even harder to believe, and he stays on guard as they begin to fly down to the ground. They had been following a lead that Daedalus has gotten. Something about the source of all the strange supernatural goings-on this month. According to his information, there had been a weakening in the barrier between the world of the physical and mystical. And the source of that weakening was where they were headed. But, as they began to land, Victory noticed something odd. With all his various methods of sight and detection, there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary, energy-wise. He remained cautious, not sure what was going to happen here. “Alright, Daedalus,†Captain Thunder asks, “where’s this anomaly you were speaking of?†The rest of the members of the League seem to be wondering that as well, as none of them seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. “We’ll be able to see it in just a moment…I have to prepare a few things first…†As he speaks, Daedalus begins to walk over to the foot of the statue itself. Victory, for his part, stays quiet, but that weird feeling just won’t be shaken. Keeping all his various sight methods cycling, he notices something…a bit odd. Looking over to Daedalus, his infravision seems to be picking up an odd build-up of heat growing from inside. Much higher than any human should without any corresponding power. Keeping his eye on him, Daedalus continues. “There we go…this should do it…†As he speaks, Daedalus looks to be messing with a device in his hands, with his back turned to the League. With a grin on his face, he turns to face them, his eyes having suddenly switched to a glowing red. His eyes catching on to it, Victory looks again, to see the heat having built inside to incredible levels! Now he knows why he had such a bad feeling: “EVERYONE DOWN!†Turning to Johnny Rocket, he makes a quick decision. “JOHNNY! FOLLOW MY LEAD!†Not quite sure what he means, but ready for action all the same, Johnny watches as Victory blasts forth, spinning in circles, just in time to see Daedalus explode! And a hell of an explosion at that, as the entire sky seems to light up. But Johnny thinks fast, and knew what Victory meant, as he joins Victory in spinning around the detonating figure. As Johnny goes around the base, Victory circles up and up, the two of them creating a powerful vacuum, funneling the explosion up into the air, trapping it and directing it away from the League and the Centurion’s statue. Heading higher and higher, Victory’s cyclone brings the swirling flame far, far above the clouds, his speed pushing well over even his normal limits. As he moves, the flames smash against him now and then, causing some nasty damage against his armor, but he keeps on, until he finally funnels it all up out of the atmosphere. One it was gone, he and Johnny slow to a stop. Victory, worn from both the speed and the constant assault the explosion hit him with, floats in the air for a moment, panting and charred, but with a smile on his face. And then he begins to fall… Tumbling back down to Earth, it seems like it will be quite an impact, surely enough to do even him in. But he’s okay with it. Give his life to save Earth’s greatest heroes? Good trade… As the darkness over his eyes lifts, Victory finds himself back at a familiar lab, as pain shoots through him. Did I survive, he wonders. As his eyes open, he looks about, seeing the people who work on him all smiling, relieved to see him come to. At his side, one of the technicians carefully lays a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, V! Welcome back. We were worried about ya. You really pushed that body of yours there.†Victory smiles, shrugging lightly. “Well, I knew you guys built me up strong enough to handle it. Was everyone else okay?†“Yup! And they said to feel free to ask them for help any time. They said it’s the least they could do.†Victory laughs, and lays back down. “Thank God. Although….†If that Daedalus was just a bomb…where was the real one…?

Out front, a white Audi Q7 Limousine had pulled up, with the ArcheTech logo emblazoned on the sides. Several of the paparazzi outside flocked to it, hoping to see who was within. Doktor Archeville was expected, but who would he be with? The veritable amazon, Fulcrum, whom he had been romantically linked with for months? Or someone else? "Shall we?," he asked his companion, offering a hand as he opened the door. The camera flashes were blinding as they exited, but they went at a steady pace to the main doors. "Doktor Archeville, does Fulcrum know what you did at Oktoberfest!" "Doktor, any truth to the rumors your company is experimenting on confiscated Grue corpses?" "Doktor Archeville, is it true ArcheTech intends to purchase Fassbinder Pharmaceuticals?" "Doktor, who is-" He paused at the doors, and turned back to the crowd, showing off his stylish new black tuxedo. "My, my, what a wide array of rumors! You will get answers soon enough, at the next ArcheTech press conference, scheduled for the end of the month!" The Doktor and his companion entered, and exchanged brief words with the announcer. "Now entering: Herr Doktor Viktor Archeville, Miss Americana."

Oh, and I should say, for the record, that Dok's got his Enhanced Charisma up.

Archeville nodded, "as you vish. I vill be vanting to test dose later, too, in von of de tanks." He put the stethoscope away and brought forth the exam light, then pointed to a coathook on the door. "Focus dere, please." After examining her eyes, he placed a small funnel on the end of the light and used it to examine her ears and nose, then removed the funnel and shone the light down her mouth to check her throat.

Dok knows all! Seriously, he does. He would research the party's host before going in, and with his Mental Quickness (and the Library facilities at his home) he can do so for all 15 Knowledges in 9 minutes. For Business and History, he gets 41; for Life and Physical Sciences, he gets 51. :science: