Dr Archeville

I'd like to see a bit more emphasis on the "I did not kill the guy" part. Maybe something about how part of you wanted to kill him, but a stronger part knew that killing him wouldn't bring the girl back, wouldn't undo the evil he'd done.

If no one else steps forward, I'll do it, after I wrap up a few threads/the October Vignettes. Did you have an idea for when/where/how this'd go down?

"Yes, I imagine power like that," Archeville mused, "made you a very effective thief and con-man. Er, con-woman. And with you mindset at the time, you likely found all sorts of extralegal uses for your new abilities." He knew some of what she'd done, from his initial investigations of her when he first assembled the Interceptors. He'd read the police reports on the wealthy and the haughty who had been struck down, and a small part of him had even cheered for the mysterious assailant at some of the incidents. He'd even talked with a few low-powered superheroes who'd gone after her. Her steadfast respect for life was one of the things that told him she was not a lost cause, and could be turned into more than what she was; her change from selfish larceny to a more Robin Hood-like MO show she was able and willing to change. He turned to face her, and an odd look was on his face. There was curiosity there, but also compassion, of acceptance. "So what changed you from the amoral con-artist and forger you were to the heroine you are today?"

Dead Head's initiative (1d20+2=18) Six Cultist's initiative (1d20=5) Head Necro Cultist's initiative (1d20=4) Mysterious Creature's initiative (1d20+1=4) 18 -- Dead Head 06 -- Midnight 05 -- Cultists 04A -- Mysterious Creature 04B -- Head Necro-Cultist Dead Head will hold his action, to see how Midnight wants this to go down.

Reynolds eyed her again. "You were at the Brainiac Brunch? My, my, my..." "Yes and no," Archeville replied, gently guiding Miss Americana towards the door, "Doctor Reynolds has actually been working on that since before I came back to Freedom; when I first reviewed it, almost two years ago, the fields were still dangerously unstable, emitting a blinding flash and then collapsing if struck by energy blasts of a certain wavelength." If the two had looked back to Dr. Reynolds as they left, they would see him giving a "dude, why ya gotta block me?" look to Archeville. A beeping from his laptop soon brought his attention back to his work. "Ah, one of the side-effects of working with such extreme intellects," the Doktor said once clear of the lab, "some are painfully shy, and some are... well, not."

Two Towers, you say?

A suggestion: rather than list it on one person's sheet, have it on its own Wiki page, with links to it in all the contributor's char sheets.

"Oh, that little article was nothing," Reynolds said, quickly inserting himself between Archeville and Americana, "just some incidental findings from my true project! You see, I'm more a high energy physics man, and this," he gestured to the riot armor, "is gonna be huge!" "Doctor Reynolds has been doing some rather promising work with force fields," Archeville interjected, though he hung back to see how Miss Americana was going to react to Reynolds' attention. "I believe he has the generation of the field itself set, and is now focusing on miniaturizing the mechanisms themselves, making a set of wearable generators which are not too encumbering, or get unbearably hot. I am sure you can imagine the value such devices would have for law enforcement agents."

Jack of all Blades nimbly dodges out of the way of the panicked trio of partygoers, and he and Grimalkin manage to get everyone out; the worse damages are minor smoke inhalation. Colt fires two more cryoshells at the blaze, and it is extinguished, though bits still smolder here and there. Significant damage had been done to the basement, though, and possibly to the foundation and supports, so these unfortunate people may have to find temporary lodgings elsewhere. Going back to check the handcuffed sniper/bomber, Colt found... empty handcuffs chained around the post.

That hits, and (being a Minion), it's KO's. KC, save her!

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Silver said coolly before Miss Americana left. "I try," Archeville replied, blushing slightly. "As I said, I try and hire the best, and give them the best to work with. Ah, and here is a prime example!" The Doktor had lead her to another laboratory, though this one was half taken up by a firing range enclosed in a thick layer of (presumably bulletproof) glass. In the middle of the range was a mannequin wearing a glossy black suit of riot gear. Four lab techs were preparing an assortment of firearms at one end, while at the other, a broad shouldered man (probably in his early 30s), with dark hair and a goatee, worked on a computer terminal connected by cabled to a section of the armor. "Ah, Doctor Reynolds! Prpearing for another round of tests?" "Indeed so, Herr Doktor, we were just about to-" He paused when he looked up at who had entered. "Why, hello there," he said in a voice now dripping with oiliness.

"I... am sure the two ideas could be combined," Archeville said after a moment, forcing himself to smile as a good host should. "That is, to create protective items vhich are easy to use, readily deployed. Dat is often von of de most difficult aspects of any new technology, making de interface intuitive enough dat you do not need an advanced degree, or an extended preparation time, to use it."

Dok Move Action: Reconfigured Gadgets to Move Object 5 (tractor beam; Str 25, enough to carry KC as a light load) [10/15PP] Stand Action: Grab KC Extra Effort to SURGE and gain another action Move Action: Fly to Squrm with KC in tow. Mobs... either break free of the control (Asylum) or have no one to target (Beach) Squrm Standard Action: Attempts to use Mind Control on Dok Mind Control check (1d20+8=21) As I pointed out in the first post, Dok's had his Enhanced Wis up. ... Rule of Drama takes precedence, Dok fails the initial save. Wander is up.

Erin saw the faces slowly disappear from the windows, and the creature's body hissed and bubbled as it lay crumpled on the slanted roof of the asylum. The mob at the shore continued looking outward, watching, waiting. The hideous Squrm waved its tentacles before Archeville, tracing glowing mind-twisting sigils in the air. The sigils raced towards Archeville's head, wrapping it up completely. The Doktor struggled, but the mental assault bypassed all his mental defenses, all the tricks he'd learned and developed over the years to fight outside influence, darted straight to the very core of his being, and grabbed on firmly to his mind! He let out a scream, then hovered in the air, limp. Offering accepted KC heard in his soul.

"Look, I already apologized for reading from that verdammt book," the Doktor said as he began adjusting his Electromagnetic Screwdriver, "vhat more do you vant?" A glowing tractor beam lanced out of the techno-wand, grabbing Kid Cthulhu, who was dragged along as the Doktor sped out. Suddenly, they were at the horrible Squrm, which was flying and flopping in some sort of arcanometric pattern in the air above the oceans. The thing looked somehow more solid than before. Was it drawing energy from something below? From the people along the shore? Whatever the cuase, it had to be stopped!

"I should hope I would be meeting her at the wedding!" Archeville replied while Lynn shrugged. Then she started in on her tale, and his smile faded. "I... I did not..." he whispered. He turned to her, his voice riding to a normal volume, "I mean, I suspected, based on your attitude and skill sets and snippets of conversations I have overheard, but... but to see it..."

Archeville bolted up from his semi-reclined position, and looked from Mona to Lynn to Mona and back to Lynn and Billy again. "Oh! A castle! I have a castle! You can use it, if you like! And the finest Bavarian pastries and German chocolates shall be at your disposal! And musicians!" He searched his pockets for his Screwdriver, withdrew it and began flipping through a holographic rolodex it projected, "I believe I have the contact information for the Rector of the Leipzig University of Music and Theatre here somewhere... "

October 28th (Thursday). Burnt Offerings It was almost midnight. In the relative safety of his small apartment, Nick Cimitiere was finishing the construction of the veve that took up most of his kitchen. He was pretty sure this was going to do something awful to his safety deposit, but at this point, he didn’t much care. He tried as hard as he could to ignore the roiling upsets that pinged the outer fringes of his death sense. Truth be told, he had started to ignore them long before, the same way one gets used to feedback at a rock concert. The first rise had been over a week ago, and had been fairly easy to put down – some skeletons from an anthropological site, as well as a few dead animals. But then they kept coming – more zombies, more complex magics, over a larger area. Dead Head had been right, all those months ago; something was turning over in the realms of the dead. And Nick was pretty sure who was responsible; he’d felt something of his essence at the scene of the last rise, coating the area like an oil slick. He also knew he’d have no chance in Hell of taking the culprit on alone. Which had led to tonight’s proceedings. Nick finished the veve, dimmed the lights, and sat down on the floor. He closed his eyes, and hoped this would work. “O Baron,” he cried, “he who watches over the burial fields, he would keeps the dead safe in their graves, attend. Your domain is challenged, and your charges are enslaved. Your... beneficiary… seeks your aid.” Slowly, the shadows in the apartment lengthened. Nick couldn’t see him, but he felt the presence lurking in the darkened corners. “I attend, child. I am not ignorant of such things. But you know that I cannot cross – thanks to the workings of the one you know well.” The voice paused. “Unless…” Nick had prepared for this. He opened the sack in the middle of the veve. “I offer you the dirt from seven upturned graves,” he said, “and the names of those your brother has corrupted. And first amongst others… I offer you justice.” Silence again. And then the voice spoke: “Then we have a deal.” *** Nick pulled up to the Hallowed Plains Cemetery in Greenbank around 1 AM. Despite the best intentions of a circle of devoted caretakers, this was one of the few graveyards in Freedom that had managed to fall into a state of disrepair. Rusting gates, tarnished statues, and dead plots of grass. Needless to say, it would be perfect. Just crossing the threshold of the cemetery, Nick had been beset by a roaring swirl of necrotic energy, a feeling not unlike plummeting into a hurricane. He could hear chanting in guttural French coming from the heart of the cemetery, and knew just who would be leading the ceremony – Baron Samedi. The French broke for a second, giving way to English. “Up and at ‘em, sleepy deads! You spent too long sleeping in Hades’s kingdom; time to get yourself behind a right and proper god!” Nick could feel the miasma around him reaching a fevered pitch. The working around him was something divine… but more in the “Sodom and Gomorrah” sense. The power, the craftsmanship; he knew it would be many years before he could construct something of this intricacy. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t tear it apart like a monkey with a chainsaw. Drawing forth his will, Nick visualized a sword cutting the Gordian knot, a sword made of salt and steel. And a few seconds later, Nick felt the structure of the weave rend slightly… and unfurl soon after. A cry of inhuman rage went up from the center of the cemetery. Nick felt a spike of necromantic energy go up, and twisted away from where he stood – just as the ground below him erupted with the force of a mortar. He sprinted behind a nearby mausoleum, taking shelter while he prepared the invocation. As he did, he felt Samedi stalk up the main road, flooding his death sense with the stench of rot and the scent of wet dirt. “Well, well,” the Baron said, sarcasm dripping like venom, “ain’t that always the way it gotta go. You’re an expert in the ancient ways – ways of your people, ways of the blood, ways of death and magic and might. You been doing things like this forever –“ There was the sound of thunder, and masonry rained down on Nick’s back. Before he could move, he felt himself yanked up and over the ruined crypt by spectral hands. He was twisted around roughly, and found himself staring into the face of Baron Samedi. “…and some white boy does it better than you.” Nick went flying through the air, coming to rest – painfully – at the foot of a headstone. He felt the top of it go right into his back; if it weren’t for his jacket, his back would likely be broken. Baron Samedi stalked forward. “What exactly are you planning, little upjumped bokor? You may know the ways, but you ain’t got enough power to take me on. You hoping for a miracle, maybe?” Nick could feel the Baron drawing the power inward – even without his death sense, he could hear the air rushing out, an unearthly shriek filling the night sky. Now was the time. He felt Samedi unleash a burst of death energy – And from behind a set of another eyes, he watched as his body leapt up and grabbed it out of mid-air, choking it until it dissipated. He then felt his lips open, as another voice poured out. “As of a matter of fact… yes, he was.” The Baron’s face fell. “Brother Cimitiere,” he said. “It’s been some time.” “So it has,” said the Ghede. Nick felt himself stalking forward towards Samedi. He could sense a ward go out, a shield of the very essence of death. Then he felt Baron Cimitiere move his arm and rake the air, and suddenly, the ward tore like tissue paper. “And I see you have not learned. You are in my domain, brother. In my fields. And you have abandoned your duties. You have chained lost souls. You have prevented passage to Guinee. You have shackled the bodies of men and turned them into grim puppets. Do you have any idea what you have done?” “More than you can imagine, dear brother,” Samedi said. “I have become the death men fear. We may show them the roads to Guinee, but still they fear us. Still they make us monsters. You say I chain men? I say, I give them what they want most! I give them the Grim Reaper!” Nick could feel the hurricane of necrotic essence stirring up around him once more. Only this time, it wasn’t coming from Samedi. Samedi could obviously feel it, too; Nick saw him glancing side to side, trying to figure out what was going on. “Perhaps it is your cheval, brother,” Baron Cimitiere said, “but you know nothing of what men want. I know well what my children desire. They desire safety, rest, and bounty. Things you have denied them often.” Nick saw the ghosts of Hallowed Plains stepping out of the night. Usually, the ghosts he saw were somewhat faded and muted, afterimages of the mortal coil. These ones, however, were solid and hearty, given strength by the power roiling around him. And some of them, he saw, were holding chains. “And they wish to have words with you.” The ghosts charged as one body. Samedi threw forth his power wildly into the swarming crowd, but he was overwhelmed. When the crowd withdrew, he was bound with ectoplasmic restraints, bucking against his prison. “We must talk, brother. Elsewhere.” The ground opened up beneath Samedi, and he screamed as he plummeted into a seemingly bottomless chasm. The ground healed over quickly, and Nick felt the bond snap. He took a step forward, slightly disjointed by control of his own body. “I believe we have fulfilled the deal, child.” “Yeah,” Nick said. "Yeah we have.” “I have… duties to attend to. However, if you wish to discuss a… longer term arrangement…” Nick shook his head. “Sorry, Baron,” he said. “But I gotta be freelance. Part of the job.” "I understand,” said the Baron in a tone that said he clearly didn’t. “Next time you call on me, however… I may demand a higher price.” Nick felt the connection well and truly sever, and he was alone in the graveyard once more. He turned and headed towards the gates, making plans for the next step. Samedi may be otherwise occupied, he thought, but if he’s really waging war against Hades… well, not like the other side’s gonna let up…

"I am quite pleased to hear that," Archeville replied, smiling, "as a laboratory much like this is where you would be working. When not, ah, working from home, that is." "Now, would you like to continue the tour?" He had seen Miss Americana's assessment of the energy cell, and hoped Dr. Silver was not offended by the 'intrusion'. But, if she wanted to start work now, that was fine by him. "There is still much to show, and we do still need to get you entered into the system."

Six of the cultists immediately fall to their knees, and plant their faces in the dirt. The seventh, the one at the head of the altar, remains standing, but does bow. "My Lord, please, give us a chance," his nasal voice begged, "we can do this! This vessel is strong -- it took three assaults to take him down! -- and the odds are good that he shall survive the transfer! And even if he does not... well... he would make a fine undead! Please, my Lord, we are so close -- we are doing all we can to- my Lord? Have you..." he swallowed hard, "sent... someone?" Trevor had heard Dead Head coming from 30 feet away, but it appeared the cultist did not hear him until he was right behind the hero. Whatever was chained in the chamber beyond continued to growl and pace.

The 6 Cultists (using the PL 2 Cultist stat block from Book of Magic) cannot beat that (at best they fail by 8), and so immediately prostrate themselves before the Great and Terrible Voice. The Lead Cultist (using a weakened version of the Necromancer from same book) may be able to beat that. Counter-Intimidate (DC 30) (1d20+12=22) Hunh, also fails by 8. He also bows, though not as low as the others. And he spills some info! Dead Head tries to quietly approach Trevor. Stealth (untrained) (1d20+2=17) Is he heard? Notice check vs. Dead Head's Stealth (DC 17); -4 penalty for distance figured in (1d20+2=17) Just barely! If you're doing anything other than talk next, you should probably roll initiative.

A permanent Dimensional Portal does seem a tad odd. A Dimensional ESP (which glitches at dramatically appropriate times to become a true Portal), though, would be fine. Docks can be used to store any watercraft you make. Living Space for when you pull all-nighters. Holding Cells (of the Nullify Powers variety) can be quite useful when helping/studying Metahumans with uncontrolled or permanent powers.

I'm not sure AEGIS/Dr. Volk would, actually, unless they did so with the expectation that "The Lab" is basically a think tank for AEGIS. Dok would contribute to it (financially at least, if not also some tech), since "The Lab" seems to be somewhat like ArcheTech itself (multi-disciplinary research house beholden to no particular government or business interest).

"Ah....," Archeville left eyebrow shot up, "would... would you mind going over that again? Er, your 'origin story,' that is. It would help me in determining which tests to run, and, well, I am honestly curious in hearing it. You see, it ties into why I had originally called you here." The Doktor paused to take a few sips of water, "I am hoping to take ArcheTech in some new and exciting directions, and one of those is the thorough scientific examination of 'magic' and 'the supernatural'. I have chatted with a sorceress, and a vampire, and a werewolf, and they say they will speak to others to get volunteers for my research. I have even tried giving the vampire I have spoken with a blood substitute, which he has disseminated to others; so far he says it seems they have taken to it." "I was hoping," he continued, leaning forward a bit and flashing a very warm and inviting smile, "that you would let me study you, and if you could take to other 'fae' and see if you could get them to volunteer for my research. Based on what research I have already done, though, I do realize that they may be the hardest ones to convince."

I plan on using my Platinum reward to give Dead Head a 150-pp Minion, a Ghost Dog. (Spirit Dog would be a more proper name; it's not the ghost of a particular dog, it's one of Papa Legba's hounds.) He's mainly a scout: in offensive & defensive terms, he's only PL 6; his only PL 10 things are skills and Fearsome Presence. Characters Name: A Mutt (a pun on the name of a certain other critter) Alternate names: Carcass, Scraps Power Level: 6/10 (150/150pp) Trade-Offs: None Unspent PP: 0 In Brief: Dead Head's faithful hound! Description: A mix of Mastiff (Neopolitan and Tibetan), Newfoundland, and Saint Bernard. Most foes only see his terrible jaws and glowing eyes, though. History: One of Papa Legba's loyal hounds, loaned to Dead Head after the events of the Hades/Samedi feud. 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. He can let our a baleful howl, far more terrifying than the call of any mere wolf. Abilities: [6 + 4 + -10 + -4 + 4 + 0 = 0pp] Str 16 (+3) Dex 14 (+2) Con --- 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 --- 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: [22 + 3 + 30 + 20 + 11 + 6 + 5 + 5 = 102pp] Concealment 10 (all senses; PFs: Close Range, Selective) [22PP] Flight 1 ("air walking"; PF: Subtle) [3PP] Immunity 30 (Fortitude effects) [30PP] Insubstantial 4 (ghost form; affected by blessed, magical or silver attacks; Extra: Duration [Continuous]; Flaw: Permanent) [20PP] Mighty Jaws of Doom 5 (10 points; PF: Alternate Power) [11PP] BE: Strike 1 (standard jaws of doom; Extra: Affects Corporeal 6; PFs: Affects Insubstantial 2, Mighty) [10/10PP] AP: Strike 1 (spirit-shredding jaws of doom; Extras: Affects Corporeal 6, Alternate Save [Fort] 6; Flaw: Action [Full round] 6; PFs: Affects Insubstantial 2, Mighty) [10/10PP] Protection 6 [6PP] Regeneration 5 (+5 recovery bonus [+0 total]) [5PP] Super-Senses 5 (darkvision, scent, tracking [olfactory], ultra-hearing) [5PP] Drawbacks: [-4PP] Disability (no hands; very common, moderate; -4PP) DC Block 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 0 + Combat 16 + Saves 6 + Skills 12 (48 ranks) + Feats 18 + Powers 102 - Drawbacks 4 = 150/150pp :arrow: I'd like the duration on his Concealment to be reversed. That is, he is by default Concealed, and being un-Concealed is an Active Sustained effect. :arrow: I keep going back and forth between having him be permanently Incorporeal, and having a similar reversed duration for his Incorporeal (incorporeal by default, active Sustained effect to be corporeal). :arrow: Dimension for tracking, so he can track foo's across dimensions?!