Dr Archeville

Artificer A taller but lankier figure broke apart from the group next, who wore even less than the Norse punk rocker, yet seemed equally unfazed by the cold. Heroditus wore his usual outfit -- dark blue short breeches that end just at the knee, a dark green short-sleeved tunic, cinched together by a brown belt and bandolier covered in pockets or various sizes, and a pair of goggles (left lens purple, right lens green) perched atop his forehead. The one modification he'd made was a change in footwear: rather than gladiator-style sandals that lace up to his mid-calf, he wore a pair of winter boots, for improved traction. The Atlantean was unfazed by the cold, yes, but not by the dryness. As soon as he got his bearings, he reached for one of the brown waterskins hanging off his belt and took a long drink. "<'Go to the Surface,' I said>," he muttered in Atlantean, "<'it will be good for you, for your studies, for Atlantis.' Poseidon, give me strength!>"

Horrorshow Davyd had been soaring above the party, in the form of an eagle, taking in the sights of both the city and the many heroes gathered there (that's a lot even for Freedom!), but he also had an ulterior motive for doing so. Not sure if anyone from True North or Vanguard would be impressed with my abilities, but when else would I get to show off in front of big heroes like them! He banked towards the pool and landed, shifting into his Davyd form as he touched down. At first he appeared to wear nothing but blue and gold swim trunks, but then he shifted, skin folding in on itself and shifting colors until he appeared to be wearing a midnight blue wetsuit. He greeted his roommate OctoBen with finger guns (which momentarily elongated into tentacles), and waved at Leroy and Mia, then began introducing himself to others. "Hello! It's an honor to meet you! I'm Horrorshow," he'd say, or something to that effect, then shift into a duplicate of whoever it was he was shaking hands with. That is, until he got to Mali. With her, he got through the "Hello! It's a-" but then reflexively shifted into the form she'd last seen him in: a handsome man, mid-20s, tall (nearly six and a half feet!), with long brown hair, blue-green eyes, broad shoulders & muscular chest, a drab green jackets over a green and white plaid shirt, blue jeans, and black boots. "Oh crap."

Morphed by Thevshi Horrorshow 7pp to spend, and he’s PL 10. (He’s got 184 total, so could be up to PL 12.) But he’s only a Junior at Claremont. So, as an experiment, let’s see how he does when knocked down to PL 9. ABILITIES [0] Due to some changes down in the Powers sections, his Strength & Constitution should now look like this: Strength: 24/18/12 (+7/+4/+1) Constitution: 24/14 (+7/+2) COMBAT [-2pp] Lowered Enhanced Base Attack by 1. [No change in cost here.] That, plus decrease in Strength, will alter Grapple scores. Increased Base Defense by 1. [-2pp] Reduced Toughness, which will reduce Knockback. Initiative: +3 Attack: +9 Melee, +4 Ranged (+3/+2 Base, Attack Focus [Melee] +6/+3) Grapple: +16, +13 if Morphed Defense: +9 (+3 Base, +6/+3 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Knockback: -9 vs. Physical, -4 vs. Energy as “Chitinous Horror”; -4 if Morphed or "Oozey" form DC Block Reduce first three (3) entries by 1 each. DC 19 Unarmed, DC 22 Unarmed as Chitinous Horror, DC 24 with Strikes. SAVES [+2pp] Lowering of Constitution and Protection will lower both Toughness and Fortitude. Reduced Reflex and Will saves by 1 each. [+2pp] Toughness: +9 (+7 Con, +2 Protection) (Impervious 9 vs. Physical in "Chitinous Horror" form) Fortitude: +7 (+7 Con, +0) Reflex: +7 (+3 Dex, +4) Will: +7 (+3 Wis, +4) FEATS [+1pp] Reduce Dodge Focus by 1, to 3. [+1pp] POWERS [+7pp] Enhanced Constitution: Reduce by 2 ranks. [+2pp] Enhanced Constitution 10 (resilient form; to 24/+7) [10pp] Enhanced Strength: Reduce by 2 ranks. [+2pp] Enhanced Strength 6 (to 18/+4) [6pp] Enhanced Attack & Feats (“Fluid Fighter”): Reduce Enhanced Attack by 1 [+2pp]. Increase Dodge Focus by 1 [-1pp]. [+1pp total] Enhanced Attack 1 (fluid fighter) {2) plus Enhanced Feats 6 (fluid fighter; Attack Focus [Melee] 3, Dodge Focus 3) {6} [2+6=8pp] Features: Due to reduction in Strength, he can carry less inside him. [0] Features 1 (Internal Compartment [light load at Str 18 = 100 lbs.]) [1pp] Metamorphic Body: At the second form (“Chitinous Horror”), reduce the Impervious Toughness from 10 to 9. [No change in cost.] Protection: Reduce by 2 ranks. [+2pp] Protection 2 (resilient form) [2pp] TOTALS Abilities (26) + Combat (10) + Saving Throws (8) + Skills (18) + Feats (10) + Powers (100) - Drawbacks (3) = 169/184 Power Points [15 free] Miscellaneous Notes The “Combat By Form” section will need to be changed. When using Chitinous Horror Form: Melee +9 (Grapple +16), Ranged +4, Unarmed +7, Strikes +9, Defense +9 (+2 flat-footed), Toughness +9, Knockback 9/-4 (vs. Physical/vs. Energy) [PL 9 offense, PL 9 defense] When using Oozey Form: Melee +9 (Grapple +16), Ranged +4, Unarmed +4, Strikes +9, Defense +9 (+2 flat-footed), Toughness +9, Knockback -4 [PL 9 offense, PL 9 defense] When Morphed: Melee +9 (Grapple +13), Ranged +4, Unarmed +4, Defense +9 (+2 flat-footed), Toughness +9, Knockback -4 [PL 8 offense, PL 9 defense] When powerless: Melee +5 (Grapple +6), Ranged +2, Unarmed +1, Defense +6 (+2 flat-footed), Toughness +2, Knockback -1 [PL 3 offense, PL 4 defense] And up top: Power Level: 12 (built as PL 9) Power Points: 169/184 PP Unspent Power Points: 15 Trade-Offs: None

Horrorsow Davyd had tried to keep his composure in the Dimension of Doors, knowing that lingering too long at the sights could leave him open to a predator. (Wait, how did Eira know that? The way she said it, it was like she'd been there before...) But once the door opened to Leroy's world and the full splendor lay before him, most all control was lost. As he twirled around taking it all in, eyes widening (far more than any humans should), tentacles sprouted from his head, tipped with a variety of eyes and ears and rhinophores, allowing him to take in a host of sights and sounds and smells. "This is amaaazing!"

Horrorshow Jesus! What the... how did he move so... eyes... dark... "I wasn't drinking it," he replied dreamily, only partially aware that he was doing so, "I just wanted to make something that would stain your clothes, and make them reek, so I could track you down later. It was my own blood and bile." Wait, is this... is this international criminal guy a... a vampire? Do Farua & Ashley know? "I am... am..." He was fighting it, but Strix's unholy powers were winning out. "...am... Davyd Palahniuk. A student at..." Stop talking! Snap out of it!

Davyd's Will save 1d20+8: 16 [1d20=8]

Doktor Archeville He's a ruminant. I'll have to keep that in mind for the next meal. The Doktor snorted at Ea'Po's words, "that is... not as helpful as I'd hoped. But perhaps we will find more clues as we continue exploring the structure. Doctor," he looked to the Lor archaeologist, "do you have any recommendations on what section we should check nex-" Archeville's train of thought was interrupted by Dirge's full-throated laughter. He smiled, trying to keep the mood light, "not much of a wine drinker, eh?" He looked again to a section of wall behind them, "I should have some oxy pills that will get your body to process that alcohol faster." A moment later, another green beetle bot scurried out, and opened its rear to show an assortment of personal grooming implements and a few bottles of pills. He reached for one bottle, paused, then used his other hand to retrieve the wand from the holster at his hip, and began to wave the flashing, beeping device in Dirge's general direction, "though, to be on the safe side, I should run a quick biochemical analysis of you, to make sure I don't cause any more harm!"

Horrorshow Meanwhile, Davyd -- who felt Mia would be calmer since Eira had decided to hang back, and might appreciate some "girl's time" with Lulu -- was exploring the lounge, checking out all the seats and other amenities. "Hunh," he said to no one in particular, "they're various sizes, but the seats all seem arranged for bipedal humanoids." He turned to Leroy, "hey, Dio! How ya holding up, buddy?" Then he turned to Seresk, "are all the Praetorians and Delaztri humanoids? That seems to be the common body type -- at least, for those that invade Earth. Er, Terra. But I always hope we'll encounter something a bit," he flopped down in one of the chairs, "different."

Artificer Heroditus seized the device that Veronica had telekinetically grabbed, and quickly looked it over. "OKAY, I... NO, THAT'S... HOW IS IT... WHERE ARE... ARGH!" Frustration at the chaos around him, his inability to decipher the workings of this Surfacer device, Astrid's blaring metal, and now seeing Micah in danger boiled up in the Atlantean teen, which he vented by crushing the device with his mighty Atlantean hands. There was no change in the terror and panic around him, or at least none he could discern. Fear effect still lingering, but possibly no longer being reinforced? So maybe now... He dropped the few bits of destroyed device still in his hands, crouched down and set to reactivating his device. After resetting the tuning forks and crystals, he sent another pulse of his own arcane energies into it, and the device spun to life, sending out calming waves throughout the zoo. "PLEASE WORK."

Huzzah! So Extra Effort, Surge, set off another Calming wave (which had better work this time ? ), fatigued at start of next round. And you mentioned in Discord that Heroditus & Veronica are already near each other, so use his Move action to... not move.

Starting Conditions: Undamaged, 0 HP Free Action: Maintain Force Field Free Action: Pull (what he believes is) the subsonic fear emitter that Veronica telekinetically yoinked out of the air. Reaction: Attempt a Knowledge (Technology) check to identify it -- and, more importantly, how to turn it off. Unfortunately, this is when his unfamiliarity with Surfacer tech is going to bite him in the butt. From the Guidebook page on Atlantean tech: In a like manner, Surface World technology -- modern electronics, or even simple combustion engines -- are just as weird and alien to Atlanteans as their techno-magic is to surface worlder engineers. An Atlantean trying to deal with Surface world technology suffers a +20 DC modifier to their Knowledge (Technology) checks, unless they are also trained in Knowledge (Physical Science), in which case the lesser of the two skills may be used without the +20 DC modifier. He has no ranks in Knowledge (Physical Science), but he does have Eidetic Memory, so he can make the check untrained. 1d20+3: 11 [1d20=8] That is not enough to figure out anything about it. And I'm out of HPs, which means no reroll. So... HERODITUS SMASH! Standard Action: Crush puny Surface tech in his mighty Atlantean hands! DC 17 Toughness save. IF that appears to do any damage to the device, then Fee Action: Extra Effort to Surge. Standard Action: Activate Area Emotion Control/Calm 8 again, and hopefully I won't need to be countering anything, so that's just a DC 18 Will save. And if I do need to roll to counter, then 1d20+8: 21 [1d20=13] Move Action: Move 30 feet towards Veronica. IF Heroditus' mighty hands did not appear to do anything to Fear Master's device, then no Extra Effort/Surging, just moving towards Veronica. Ending Conditions: Undamaged, 0 HP, possibly fatigued at start of next round (if he got to Surge).

Horrorshow "Hi, Mother Unit!," Davyd greeted the tiny computer with a smile and a wave. He looked to Ben, then back to the M.U., "oh, hey! Ben here's great with computers -- maybe he can help repair you! I mean, uh, with your permission, of course." He turned partway to Ben, "they were caught in a cosmic storm, damaged her ship and computer. Probably both hardware and software issues." As Daphne continued, his eyes slowly grew wider, much like Ben's had a few moments earlier. "Grue... 1940s... New Mexico... oh!" He spun around to face Ben Goldblum, and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Roswell! Roswell!" He was practically vibrating with excitement, "this is gonna be awesome!!!"

Horrorshow 'Olivia' scoffed, "yeah, but Shatner couldn't act his way out of a paper bag if he was playing the role of a flaming chainsaw!" She held a hand up defensively, "yes, yes, I know that's part of the charm for some folks, but me, I just find it painful." Lulu's revelation struck something in the shapeshifter. Olivia bit her lower lip, "oh, that's right, you've had your powers since you were... ten, was it?" She inhaled sharply, "that must've been terrifying. And to be forced to drink that much," she shook her head. She's lucky it didn't do any damage to her liver. Or her brain. Well, her brain is stronger than most. Wait, crap, she can hear this! Olivia turned away a moment, took a deep breath, then turned back to her. "I'm sorry, I... we can change the subject, if you don't want to talk about that."

Artificer "Some dry-sparring is fine by me," Heroditus replied, setting his duffel bag down in one corner. He hooked a thumb into his bandolier and began to remove it, paused, then stopped and let it fall back to place. "Might as well learn to fight with all this on me, yes?" He took a long drink from his waterskin, rolled his neck and shoulders a few times, then nodded to himself. He returned to the group and stood before Benny, and bowed slightly to him. He then crouched to a low and wide grappler's pose, shifting slightly from side to side. "If you are thinking of 'going easy' on me, Trainer-Benny, please, do not -- I am completely healed from the injuries incurred during our last training session."

Horrorsow "Mom and pop know I'm traveling with friends from Claremont, yeah," he nodded, "though not exactly where we're going. I did tell them it was to the home of one of you, which seemed to put them at ease. A bit." He partially unzipped his bag and pulled out the neck of a wine bottle, "and uncle Sasha snuck some of these to me. Though, uh," he glanced up at Eira, "I guess the horilka wouldn't have any effect on you." He pushed the bottle back in and zipped the duffel back up, "so, what is the plan, Leroy? What's there to do on Earth-2? Or, maybe a better question is: what can the Prince of Earth-2 and his schoolyard friends from another dimension get up to?"

Great work! Should there be an entry for Space/CoVic Station?

Horrroshow Oh crap! Those eyes... that growl... is this guy on something? If it's one of those super-drugs, this could get bad, and fast! Well, bad for others, not me. Well, probably not me. Regardless, I should get him away from the crowd! 'Stefan' stumbled back a step, "aw, no, yer nice suit!" He kept up the 'drunken stranger' act, stooping slightly on unsteady feet and now eye-level with the stains on Strix's shirt. "I am sho, sho shorry. C'mon," he straightened up and looked him in the eye, "I'll help ya get cleaned up. It'sh the leasht I can do. A lil' water, some club shoda, that'll get it right out, you'll shee!" He reached out to grab hold of the pale man's arm, intending to guide (or "guide") him to the men's room. Were Strix thinking clearly, he might have noted that the man's movements were strangely fluid for a human, much less a drunken human.

Doktor Archeville Archeville poured Starlok a glass of the kiefernschwarz, "hrm, psionics could explain this, though the remains are too degraded for an MRI or neurotransmitter analysis to tell is anything was affecting their brains. I hope it's that, and not," he scrunched up his face, as if he'd just had something particularly sour in his mouth, "magic. I do so dislike working with that." "Oh, now that is interesting," he whirled around to Ea'Po. "So we're dealing with two civilizations here? Unless the Atchpan who scrawled that happened to be an expert on the Gauat, and in their panic scrawled all that," a pause, a munch of an apple chip, "but that seems unlikely. Could any of the items you found in those crates be Gauatan? Simply seeing them may have triggered something... or they could have been trapped, intended to be found by some Atchpan tomb-robber, vengeance from beyond the grave." He slowly raised his left hand and wiggled his fingers at that last bit. "Ah, I see your appetite is as prodigious as the rest of you!," he said good-naturedly. "Beets are the taproot of a plant, long used as food, dye, and medicine." He glanced at the hole from which the robots had emerged. "And one species in particular is valued for its high sugar content. Most species are red or deep purple, though there are some white and yellow ones." Another beetle-bot had appeared, this one with two hoses extending from its back, which it used to vacuum up the spilled wine and chips. "They're good for digestive issues, high blood pressure, and endurance. Though I'm sure you don't need any help in that area."

Horrorshow "Finally!," an exasperated Davyd called out as he entered. He was wearing blue shorts and a snug yellow short-sleeved shirt, both seemingly made of some sort of shiny polyester (morphic molecules), and a Freedom Comets basebell cap, but no shoes. He also carried a mid-sized green duffel bag, which made muffled clink clink sounds as he walked. "Leroy, I thought you'd-" He paused, looked him over. "Nice robe, very minimalist. Anyway, I thought you'd said eight a.m. -- I've been checking my closet door for over an hour!" "Mia!" He moved towards her with arms outstretched, offering (but not imposing) a hug. "And Eira! Looking fashionable, as always." He looked around, "no Abby? Or Lulu?"

SPRING BREEEAAAKKK!!!

20Q Interview (with Angelic) Part 1 here. Heroditus leaned in a bit, and smiled at her words, feeling an echo of the restoration that such happy thoughts brought to Eira. “They sound wonderful. Perhaps I shall make my way out there some time. To your question, though,” he sat back upright, “at our height we had a countless variety of daimons, of varying levels of complexity and skill. Most,” he looked to the side, “were made to serve, as assistants, laborers. Although,” he looked back to her, “I have seen some records indicating that at least a few were generated with their own will, and left to chart their own destiny. Most all were lost in The Sinking, or through the ravages of time.” A few click-pops, shifting down, and when he spoke again it was in a more somber tone, “the few that still exist are simple computational and informative assistants, copied over and over and over,” his voice went to a whisper, “and slightly degraded with each iteration.” His voice rose again slightly, “there may be some more complex Atlantean daimon out there, in some crystal hidden away in an undiscovered outpost,” he looked aside again, “but even if no outside factors have corrupted it, the isolation may well have driven it to madness.” He looked back to her, “I apologize, this may be difficult for you to hear. A lighter subject, perhaps: what do you like to do in your leisure time? For entertainment?” Eira blinked a few times, then said, “I listen to music - a genre called metal.” Her lips curled slightly at the word. “I do not know how much it would appeal to an Atlantean’s senses,” she admitted, “but nothing can match it for its power.” She was silent for a moment at that, as if processing, before she said, “...I could play it for you some time, if you like. I would not want to introduce it to you here. Currently I am reading a book by Astrid Lindgren, writing a keyboard piece to go with one of Astrid’s songs, and working on a neuro-electric interface compatible with metahuman physiology. What about you?” “I would like that very much, thank you. Much of Surfacer music is,” he tilted his head to one side, then the other, “strange to me, but I am open to experiencing new things. Your interface project also sounds interesting, and I would like to know more,” he tapped his tablet a few times, then looked back up to her, “presuming, of course, that you are willing to share details on that. And, well, I suppose that answers your question: when not in classes, or working on some assigned project, I undertake my own studies, tinker with my own projects.” He smiled, though this one seemed more forced than usual, “one of my squadmates, Ben, has been trying to ‘educate’ me on Surfacer culture, getting me to watch movies and video clips, but,” he shook his head, “I much prefer reading through Surfacer technical journals.” Then, a sigh, a whisper, “there are not enough skilled Atlanteans for us to have technical journals.” He was silent a moment, then turned back to her, “do you get along well with your squad?” “Hmph.” Eira scowled at Heroditus, then hissed, “As well as could be expected. Have you ever noticed Orange Squad? We seem to be quite the mix of talents until you read our histories. Children of criminals and conquerors, witches and robots, and all of us placed in one spot where we can be watched easily. Interpersonal friction was inevitable - but can be, I think, eventually overcome. And you, how do you get along with your squad?” Heroditus leaned back, as one would from a hissing serpent. “I confess I have not, though Ben -- the squadmate I had mentioned earlier -- is roommates with one of the members of your squad. David, I believe, is his name. Ben seems to like your squad, but,” he shook his head and made more click-popping sounds, “I am not sure about his recommendations. Ben seems to mean well, and is clearly very skilled, but he is by far the most… Surfacer of all the Surfacers I have met. But my squad, Green squad, also has a mix of talents, and personalities. I get along well with most, though one has...” He took another sip from his waterskin, “one became uneasy with me on first sight, though I know not why, and if anyone has spoken with her of it, they have not shared their findings with me.” He shrugged, “that has not impeded our squad’s ability to work together. At least,” he scratched his chin, “not yet.” He glanced down at his tablet, then back to her, “earlier you said you were not sure what you would do when you leave Claremont. You also mentioned your uncle, who had operated as a hero by the name of Fenris. Do you have any interest in following in his footsteps, operating as a heroine?” “I would not be here otherwise,” said Eira softly. “It would have been easy to build me a body that was purely human, save that it was made from synthetic parts - but I asked, and helped design, powers and abilities beyond baseline humanity. Superheroes have been my second family since I was very small. I could not do otherwise. ” She looked down at the backs of her hands, and began cracking the knuckles on her right hand. “But now that I know how little my opinion matters, who knows?” she asked, her voice sharpening to a cut. “Perhaps I’ll spend all my time listening to metal music and building instead. For now I am Angelic. People are inclined to accept certain imagery as safe and reliable,” she added, “and so ask few questions when they see it. So,” she said suddenly. “What _have_ you heard about me?” He was quiet a moment, considering how to reply. He looked her in the eye and spoke clearly and plainly, “that you are arrogant and cold, and bluntly direct. That you are an emotionless machine -- or a cyborg with severely impeded emotions -- who looks down on purely organic humans as inferior, both physically and mentally.” He leaned in a bit, and lowered his voice, “for what it is worth, our interactions on this day have shown me that you are not emotionless, and I appreciate your restraint and confidence. It is very... Atlantean.” He leaned back, “as you said, though, our minds change as we age and accumulate knowledge and experiences. So perhaps, in a few years, or decades, your personality will be different from what it is now.” He shrugged, “that is the way for all adolescents, is it not?” His eyes widened a bit, “ah, I did not mean for that to be my next question. I- hrm,” he looked over his tablet, “you mentioned a ‘Ghost Girl’ earlier. She is a true ghost, or is that merely a pseudonym? Have you had many experiences with the undead?” “They reveal their own fears,” said Eira softly. “If I was organic, they would say I was a bitch and leave it there. But a machine intelligence must imagine herself superior, because they imagine themselves inferior. Talos and the Communion, the Curator and the Day of Wrath; all proof to them of the threat posed by machine life. It is all very predictable.” She smiled, a look like a slash across her face. “To answer your question from before, I refer to the heroine Kimber Storm, a Canadian metahuman who attended Claremont in the previous decade. She identifies as a ghost, a psionic-magical remnant of an organic brain. I have seen other ghosts and one vampire, a superhero in Freedom City, but he prefers to keep his identity private.” She folded her hands and studied Heroditus, then suddenly said “Atlantis has its own monsters, does it not? And some of them live here, integrated into dryland society. What do you think about that?” “I suppose you have little to fear from vampires. But, ah,” he made more click-popping noises, “yes, Atlanteans do have our own monsters -- though I hesitate to use that term, as it is broad and imprecise -- and I know of at least one that has come to live up here. Sea Devil, I believe she is called, also known as Aquaria. She is,” he looked away, made more clicking and popping sounds, “unlike others of her kind.” He looked back to Eira, “I try to judge other sapient beings based on their individual merits and flaws, not presume all members of one society act and think the same. And she seems to have abandoned some of the,” he tilted his head slightly, “bloodier aspects of her culture, and adopted more to Surfacer ways. But if she had to choose between you and her people, I am not sure which side she would cleave to.” He looked down at his hands, then to hers, then back to his. “You said you helped design some of the components of your body, some of its abilities, though I get the impression that you were not the primary designer. Do you require their permission to continue such tinkering, or are you able to change and develop on your own terms?” Her lips curled in a smile. “Oh, there have been some questions about that. Too many modifications is one reason I’m here.” She rubbed her right wrist, a reflective look on her face. “I can modify my surface as much as I like.” She tapped her earrings and nose piercing, then stuck out her tongue to show the bar through it. “I could probably turn myself into a boy with the right equipment - but then that’s true for humans too, isn’t it?” She grinned. “But deeper modifications usually need...help. I do not know the state of Atlantean medicine, but here on the dryland the most skilled surgeon would shy away from cutting out their own kidneys, or implanting a new arm. My current body was primarily designed by Miss Americana and Dragonfly.” She hmmed. “Permission is an interesting subject. What’s something you _can_ do here that you _could not_ do back home?” Her lips curled again as she added, “And I don’t mean breathe air.” “I take it you also do not mean ‘cook food’ or ‘heat metal’,” he replied with a chuckle, “though we do have some air-filled caverns where we could do that. Mostly reserved for the nobles, though,” he trailed off. “Hrm,” he stroked his chin with his right hand, “I can experience a wider variety of foods up here, and clothing, and socialize with many different classes of people. As I said earlier, Atlanteans tend to be quite insular, and rigidly hierarchical.” He nodded, “it took me off guard, at first, but I have come to appreciate the freer flow of information and things. It certainly makes some of my studies easier. So what are,” he began, then suddenly stopped, “ah, no, I apologize. I was about to ask you what some of your favorite foods are, but I would guess that you no longer require such things. Or,” he looked her over, “or can you derive energy from food? And if so, what do you like to eat?” “I am a vegan,” said Eira, adding for the Atlantean’s benefit, “That means one who makes the ethical choice to consume only plant matter. I eat only for pleasure - bio-reactors of the relevant size are inefficient at present.” She tapped her throat. “There is a secondary tube that ends in an auto-sealing plastic container. I remove it when I am finished; primarily for compost.” She demonstrated by pulling up her shirt to show the side of her torso, where a scar that looked like the aftermath of a gallbladder surgery curled on her skin just above her beltline. A moment later, she pushed it down again and said, “I like butternut squash soup,” she added, ticking off points on her fingers, and said “cauliflower steak, and vrydolak, it is a Lor dish where vegetable seeds are roasted in rare spices, then eaten like popcorn. What do Atlanteans eat?” she asked. “A variety of kelp and plankton, and fish and crustaceans. Most served raw and with minimal preparation.” He glanced down at the satchel at his feet, and considered the meal inside. “Tuna filets wrapped in seaweed is a staple, and krill are a common snack. Salmon is a rare treat, and one time, at a noble’s ‘dry eating’ event, I had a salmon mousse on crisped kelp chips that was amazing! Oh,” he snapped his fingers, “that brings to mind another thing I can do up here that I cannot do back home: have a variety of beverages. The first time I had a soda was... interesting.” He glanced back at his satchel, down at his tunic, then back to her, “most of our clothing is made from kelp, too. Your outfit,” he gestured vaguely at her, “is rather eye-catching. Is this how you normally dress? If not, what sort of clothing do you prefer?” Eira looked down at herself and said, “I own a molecular fabricator and I have great fashion sense. I dress how I want.” She smiled toothily at Heroditus, then added, “This style is called punk - a rejection of mainstream fashions with roots in the 1970s. Back in Sweden my fashion choices were usually more constrained. Family matters. How about you?” she asked. “Are you troubled by our need to drape ourselves in fabrics?” He laughed at that, bright and airy. “No, no, though that was another adjustment for me. Since Atlanteans are not bothered by the cold, and the environment does not really change much down in Atlantis, we do not have much need for clothing. We still have some ceremonial garb, of course, and over the past few decades there have been developments in diplomatic outfits, for when we interact with Surfacers, so as not to offend. Protective outfits, too, for exploring thermal vents, or out on dry land. And armor, for when we must fight.” He tapped his tablet, scrolled through images of Atlantean wet-suits and armor, “nothing as advanced as the powered armor I have seen up here, though. In fact,” he stroked his chin with his left hand as he thumbed through the tablet with the other, “I have yet to encounter even stories of such armor, even from Atlantis’ prime.” He murmured something in Atlantean, then looked back to Eira, “ah, I can look more into that later. So, fighting: how do you meet an opponent?” “I interface with cybernetic opponents and alter their systems. Organic ones, I punch or kick them.” She smacked one fist against her hand, and went on. “I am strong enough to throw a van or pull an airplane. It does the work.” She reached behind herself, seeming to scratch an itch between her shoulder blades. “In the air, my wings are sharp enough to cut through aviation-grade aluminum, but I would be...reluctant to try that with a human opponent. How about you, do you use gear? You’re not as strong as some Atlanteans I’ve heard of.” He laughed again, “true, I am not, though stronger than most humans.” He stretched his arms out wide, flexed, “I can lift 700 pounds over my head, which is about average for us. But this,” he pointed to his head, “is my greatest strength. And these,” he lowered his arms and ran a hand over the pouch-lined bandolier slung across his chest. “I have components for a wide variety of mechano-mystical devices: blasters, illusion-casters, force projectors, alchemick transmuters. I prefer to study my target first, of course,” he nodded, “figure out their strengths and weaknesses, see if some non-aggressive resolution can be reached, though there is not always time for that. With Green squad, I alter the battlefield to our benefit and our foes’ hindrance.” He snorted, “working with Green squad has been a challenge, they are far less disciplined than my cohorts back home. Oh, yes,” he drummed his fingers on the desk, “all able-bodied citizens of Atlantis are expected to undergo some basic military training, for the defense of the realm. Which, combined with my strength, has been a surprise for some, who see me and expect a frail bookworm!” He grinned and leaned back a bit, then glanced at the board with the interview guidelines. “Looks like I have three questions left for you. Hrm... you are from Sweden, another country, yes? How is this place different from that one?” That got him a long pause and a blank stare, her eyes seeming to unfocus before she said “Sweden is quieter. There are fewer cars, more people on bicycles and mass transit systems. The days and nights are shorter, but that is only of academic interest,” she added. “I have no circadian rhythm to be thrown off. Americans are much louder than Swedes - you mentioned Ben? He is a very _American_ boy.” She smiled a little at that, then went on, “There are more kinds of people here than there are in Sweden, but they seem to hate each other more - and there are many, many more metahumans.” She seemed to consider for a moment, looking him over, and said, “I know the story of the Queen Mother of Atlantis. Is that common? Was there... scandal?” Heroditus had been taking another sip from his waterksin, and sputtered at her question. “Y-yes, immense scandal!” He wiped water away from his chin, “Prince Thallor would have been exiled, if he had not already been in exile at the time. The scandal has settled, as relations between Atlantis and the Surface have slowly warmed over the past few decades.” He leaned forward a bit, “it also eased relations between our own people: when Theseus wed Marta, who had been his bodyguard, there was less scandal at such cross-class courting, because she was at least Atlantean, and not a Surfacer.” He cleared his throat, “more Atlanteans are coming around to the idea of our peoples working together, trading and such, but not... being together. Hrm,” he looked her over again, “you appear very much like a Surfacer teenage female, and I know you do have emotions. Have you given much thought to... romance?” “Yes.” Eira’s smile curved wider than Heroditus had yet seen. “A Frost Giant boy once propositioned me in Jotunheim, so I had to knock out his front tooth to teach him a lesson.” She tapped her own front teeth for a moment, an oddly metallic sound, then said, “I have seen some fine romances,” she admitted, “but I am...not interested in dating anyone.” She tapped the side of her head, smiling sardonically. “I have programmed responses, but I can - adjust them if I like. What about you?” He blinked several times at her, “that is a lot to take in. But, ah,” he closed his eyes and shook his head, “no, I am also not interested. My studies and work keep me quite busy, and happily so. I am not looking for anything, but,” he shrugged, “should something arise, I would not be opposed.” He tilted his head slightly, “probably not.” He glanced down at his tablet, “alright, that was your last question for me, and now my last question to you. Hrm.” He looked her up and down again, tilted slightly to see her sides. “Where woul- no. Who- hrm. Ah - is there anything else you would like to reveal?” She stared at him and said “Is that a sexual reference, Heroditus?” She couldn’t keep a straight face for more than a second or two, and grinned at him as she said, “Only that I will be the new host of the morning announcements after spring break, as per the headmistress’s...admonitions to me. And if you are interested, I think you might make an excellent colleague in the audio-visual club…” He smiled and laughed, and offered his hand. “I shall consider that. And thank you, this has been quite enjoyable.”

Artificer 1+4+2 = 7 posts +3 rollover from Dok = 10 posts = 2pp, +1pp (Interview) = 3pp Again (1) Ancient Enemies (4) Daka Rush: Claremont (0) Hydra the Queen (0) Punching Up (0) Reptile Brain (2) Other: Interview/20 Questions (+1pp) Horrorshow 5+1+2+2+4+3+5+2 = 24 posts +1 rollover from Dok = 25 posts = 3pp Century for a Dame (5) Dead Men Tell No Tales (1) Extradimensional Birdwatching Club (0) Halloween Mall Trip (2) Intergalactic Sightseeing (2) One By One (0) Phone a Friend (4) #ReleaseTheRavenCut (3) Spring Break 1: To Remove is to Improve (5) Strange Like Me (2) Protectron 2 posts = 1pp, +1pp (Guidebook Entry) = 2pp, +1 (Mod Point) = 3pp Calling All Heroes (2) Other: Guidebook Entry (+1pp) --Titanium Characters-- Dead Head 0 posts, to ??? Bedlam Burning: Beauty and the Beasts (0) Everyone Is From Somewhere (0) Red Death Redemption (0) Doktor Archeville 5 posts -- 3 to Artificer, 1 to Horrorshow, 1 to The Void All Aboard the Nightmare Ship! (5) --Other-- Mod point, to Protectron

In order to make sure the Refs accurately count all your IC posts and award you the due amount of power points, please post with a list of all the threads in which your player character, NPC or sidekick posted IC this month (including the News forum). Also list any threads which you are GMing. GM posts count as double and can be assigned to whichever of your characters needs a 'push'. This topic will automatically close on the seventh day of the following month (i.e., April 7th, 2020) at Midnight EST. When you make your list, post a link to your first post for the month for each IC thread so we can jump right to it. When you start a thread, make sure IC is the first tag and topic prefix of the In Character thread, and OOC is in the first tag and topic prefix of the Out Of Character thread. It's not required, but additional tags including the major players and locations are viewed as a courtesy. Please list your threads in alphabetical order. Please clearly note any threads in which you are both player and GM/running an NPC. In threads where you are both player and GM/an NPC, please be sure to mark each post so we can tell who it should be allocated to. Please list your threads in a timely manner. Extending the deadline one week into the following month is already a grace period. If you've done any "extracurriculars" -- artwork, HellQ, 20 Questions, NPC, vignettes, guidebook pages, etc. -- please be sure to list them along with your active threads. For more information on ways to earn power points, see Character Advancement and Awards in the House Rules section of the Guide. Post counts should be formatted similar to the following: To make clear how many posts from rollover and GM posts are assigned to each character. Failure to comply with these guidelines may result in your kidneys being harvested post counts being postponed or skipped completely. If you missed the deadline, see this thread.

With the fatigue penalties, Artificer's got a total Reflex save of +2. So he could make it with a Nat 20! 1d20+2: 15 [1d20=13] That is not a Nat 20. And the Dex check (with fatigue penalty) 1d20: 18 [1d20=18] Victory!

Horrorshow Davyd had sat back down, but after Daphne's pitch, he practically leaped out of it again. "Sure!," he exclaimed, "where is it? Is it here on Earth, or out on some other world? Or on an asteroid? Do you know what's in it? Intelligence they've gathered on others? Technology?" "Duuuude," he turned and slapped Ben on the chest, "can you imagine what would a Grue computer would look like?" "Uh, I mean," he quickly turned back to his mentor, a sheepish expression on his face, "can Ben come along? He can be good at infiltration, and with technology, and in a fight, in case there's any trouble." He tilted back to Ben, "Miss Grue's told me most of their tech is organic, and some of it's psychic, mentally controlled. But some might have keyboards... though they'd probably be like those silicon gel ones."