rpgronin

Dekai's Will Save +9 = 27 - Saves! Cultist Leader's Initiative +0 = 7 Combat is now official, courtesy of Kid Cthulhu's attempted mental assault. Cobalt Templar needs to roll initiative; as does anyone else joining the fray downstairs. Boiler Room Round #1 Cobalt Templar - 20 (Up in Initiative!) Cultist Leader - 7 (No Action This Round!) Kid Cthulhu [bruised 1] - 4 (Action Taken!) Dekai the Super-Sumo - 4

Dekai the Super-Sumo's Initiative = 4, should you gentlemen in the boiler room feel particularly hard-boiled and eager to duke it out.

GM "They're s'posed to be down in the boiler room." the female culprit explains, her erstwhile companion scrunching her own masked face up in disdain as her colleague spills the beans to the gray-suited fellow. "We spent the last couple of hours prepping it the way 'P' wanted it. Don't know why, and don't really care." Observing the ammunition in hand, the elderly SWAT leader's eyes affixed themselves to the odd use of non-lethal ammunition in a high-stakes hostage situation. Even as Ironclad looks on at the fellow, she can see the gears in his head turning to try and deduce the purpose behind this; but there's apparently something caught between them as he simply pockets them and looks up at the high-tech woman. He nods in gratitude, and then turns to face his only two remaining, uninjured team members. "Alright. Jennings, I want you to head down to the entrance and get those doors open. If things get hairy, I want back-up ready to go." he barks before glaring at the pair of still-conscious female terrorists. "Docks, finish securing these criminals, then meet report back to headquarters that heroes are on the scene. Once you're done, meet us down there. I'm going on ahead; need to find the rest of those hostages." His subordinates set to work as the senior SWAT member heads off towards the scene where Cobalt Templar had so poignantly bashed in the door only moments prior, Jennings dipping downstairs the opposite way and heading towards the northern entrance where the police remained station while Docks began the tedious protocol of cuffing all the incapacitated criminals. ----------------------------------------------- Flying through the door with a harsh crash, Cobalt Templar and Kid Cthulhu lay witness to a sight most discomforting. The room was no doubt once just a simple housing for Ashton Mall's boiler, its mechanical parts stripped and removed by force and pushed into a nearby corner to make room for a more heinous sight. In the center of the large room sits a circle adorned with various colored candles and runes of an unknown origin, the odor of which is almost pungent enough to make someone gag. There, in the heart of the circle, sit the hostages - now bound and gagged, but still visibly unharmed - as the remaining terrorists garbed in black seem to have followed suit, enthralled and looking not unlike drowning turkeys lost in a sea of confusion. The cause for the poor saps' condition becomes immediately apparent as our heroes lay eyes on an elderly woman with white hair bound up in buns, one of her gnarled, wrinkled hands atop one of the few remaining struggling mooks' face and her lips aflutter with words inaudible. As she finishes her mutterings, the poor fellow whom was once in her grasp simply gurgles in complacency, idly staring upwards towards the dimly lit ceiling where a light fixture once hung without so much as blinking. "Heroes!" the woman shrieks as she snaps back to the now of reality, a bony finger pointing towards Cobalt Templar and Kid Cthulhu as she locks eyes with them. "They mustn't ruin the ceremony! Stop them!" The woman's piercing, almost grating voice carries a tone of power and command, and further down the hall leading towards what looks to be a hallway consisting of almost nothing but pipes along the walls comes a large stomping sound, its echo resonating as it picks up in speed at the beck and call of its master through the darkened corridor. In a flash, the burly, meaty man whom had lead the hostages and the remainder of the guerrilla forces down into the boiler room comes charging in, his robes now gone and replaced with what looks to be a traditional, stark-white gi. He's a massive man, oriental features rife on his portly face with fists easily as big as a normal man's head... and he seems to be thoroughly enraged by the presence of interlopers as he moves to stand between them and the busy old bat. "You shall go no farther, gaijin!" he shouts, parting his legs for balance and balling his fists in defiance. "I have too much at stake for you to interfere! Turn back, and do not dwell on what you have seen lest you become victims!"

Cobalt Templar and Kid Cthulhu have stumbled upon the rest of the hostages, whom are as of yet unharmed by the crazy crone and her meaty friend... for now. The mooks, however, are not so fortunate; and are now little more than living paperweights. In their way stands a burly Japanese fellow in traditional karate garb, ready to brawl should the heroes be so eager to attempt and rescue the remaining twelve hostages before something terrible befalls them! The SWAT Leader is also on his way, but won't arrive for a good bit since he's not nearly as fast as the other two heroes. You are free to roll Initiative should those entering the fracas feel compelled to duke it out with the large oriental gentlemen, or try and move past him to reach the old lady and the hostages.

GM The woman almost cracks a smile as the smooth talking rogue pours on the charm. Almost, were it not for his idiotic assumption to marriage or parental status within the hierarchy of the situation. "Look, I don't know anything." the crook says, a coy smile rippling across her face. "All I know is everyone calls her 'P.' She promised me... I mean us that she'd help turn us around. Give us... give us some cool cash if we could pull this off, and a little something extra. Nobody was s'posed to get hurt. Once she was done doing whatever-it-was she was gonna do with the hostages, we'd get our cut and then get out of here." She fidgets slightly at the third-degree, rubbing one knee with the bottom of her foot as her colleague just glares intensely at her from adjacent on the bench where the two remained handcuffed.

No one's saying you can't try again, or Take 10 since you're not under pressure; though you might be under a very finite time limit to do so...

The one who surrendered doesn't (which is the one I'm assuming you're talking to, since she's at least semi-complacent), while the other (the one CT hoisted up recently) still does.

GM With a tumultuous clang, Cobalt Templar slams his beefy fist doorwards, bending steel and iron as he struck true. The door doesn't quite fly off the hinges, instead simply resulting in a sickening snicker-snack of wood as the center-mass of the entryway crumples before the mighty blow, the emergency door creaking open sheepishly slow. In the handle, what was once an emergency fire axe lies splintered and broken, fragments of wood scattered all over the well-lit emergency exit. The door leading outwards into the night air - to both Kid Cthulhu's and Cobalt Templar's surprise - is chained shut from the inside. Obviously, the villainous vandals hadn't even considered escaping this way. That leaves the only other alternative, to which a sign painted on the side of the wall points beyond some stairs leading downwards. It simply reads "Maintenance." On the other side of the emergency exit door and obviously coming from down below, the familiar scent of burning incense and candles permeates the air, though it's an odd odor... like an amalgam of cinnamon and burning tires mixed with potpourri. From below, the faint echo of voices can be heard through another large, heavy door at the bottom of the stairwell. It sounded like the crooks - and the hostages! - weren't too far off. ---------------------------------------- Back in the Food Court with Ironclad and The Courier, the female criminal whom had surrendered doesn't seem all eager to speak to the masked suit-wearing hero. Her own mask had long since been removed, dreary bags under her eyes a clear sign of lack of sleep ingrained in what might have once been a young and vigor-filled face, brunette locks mismanaged and frizzed-out from lack of care. She couldn't have been older than her mid-twenties at best, but it looked as though she'd aged a lifetime judging solely by her heavy eyes. "You gonna let me walk?" she asks, halfheartedly expecting a positive response to her inquiry. "Not a chance." the more experienced SWAT member retorts, sitting her down on the nearby bench Ironclad and her boyfriend once shared. "Then I've got nothing to say." the robed woman continues as she glares at The Courier, her likewise cohort still squirming and wriggling in the younger officer's grip until she's simply handcuffed to the second-story walkway's railing. "Not like you could stop her anyway."

GM Dropping the femme fatale off in the loving custody of the trio of SWAT members, Cobalt Templar takes off, scouring the mall for any signs of remaining hostages. There's a few signs here and there: lost shoes, torn necklaces, the occasional hair scrunchy here and there. It's a very easily-followed trail for the blue-armored avenger, and it doesn't take him long to deduce that the trail ends at the same door he'd just so poignantly hoisted the hellion of a woman from only moments prior. It doesn't take a genius to deduce that the big, mute man and his entourage of crazed gunmen no doubt lead the remaining bulk of the hostages through there!

GM A brief examination of the terrorist's weaponry by Ironclad yields startling results. While there's nothing particularly noteworthy about the weapons - likely second-hand from pawnshops anywhere in Freedom City, given their less-than-stellar craftsmanship - it is the ammunition that is of particular interest. The rounds aren't uncommon, or even all that hard to come by all together: they're rubberized. How peculiar though that armed men and women would load their weapons with non-lethal ammunition. It certainly didn't seem very efficient, nor practical to do so given that had there been a shootout between SWAT and the masked men, Freedom City's finest wouldn't have been in any grievous danger. But what possible reason could they have had to take Ashton Mall hostage with non-lethal ammunition?

Just for the sake of clarity, combat is over. No need to wait for proper initiative order and all that to post :)

GM It doesn't take much effort to hoist the villainous vagrant aloft from the ground floor, Cobalt Templar bringing the quickly-discovered-to-be-a-woman thug pretty-as-he-pleases up to the Food Court on the second-floor. The madwoman doesn't seem at all enthused to be gripped in a big blue hand of fiery energies, squirming and wriggling and bemoaning her plight even as the young hero pins her in place between Kid Cthulhu, Ironclad, himself, and the three remaining SWAT members. "Let me go! Let me go!" the still masked and robed woman cries, struggling vainly to liberate herself from Corbin's mystical grasp. "I don't have anything to say to you guys!"

Sputtering even in the wake of the flaming fiend's collapse as smoke and fire fill the office building again, Momentum can't help but struggle to stifle some sort of corny one-liner given the apparent victory over the jerk who'd socked him good only moments prior. Now this new inferno was in danger of engulfing the building the group had so valiantly fought to preserve! Besides, Noah didn't particularly care for the idea of having a building collapse on top of him due to structural compromise. "Someone do something!" Momentum cries to the crew of assembled superheroes, a hand covering his mouth as he coughs lightly through the smoke. Even as the teen hero inquired for aid, he was already fumbling about in search of his lost fire extinguisher, perhaps the only worthwhile tool Noah had been sharp enough to pick up before getting himself wrecked upstairs. If nothing else, he could at least help.

GM With a poof there and back, The Courier is vanishes and returns in a matter of moments, the man with the radio already looking skeptical as to backup. His superior seems to share this sentiment as he surveys the situation. "I don't think so." the more grizzled, mature officer says after a moment of contemplation. "We don't know how many more of these guys are running around, or how many more hostages they've got. I don't need my men getting caught up in an even bigger crossfire... especially not if superheroes are getting involved." Flying back into the building, it isn't long before Corbin reaches the scene proper where no doubt a battle once took place in the Food Court. There's a gaggle of SWAT there discussing something, as well as a trio of masked heroes. Obviously, this is the source of the disturbance. From his loftier perch, he also spies something very peculiar: a thug frantically trying to open an emergency door on the ground floor, but to no avail.

GM With a well-placed blast, Ironclad strikes the female thug square at the cusp of her shoulder, sending both her and her handgun spiraling to the floor. In a groan of pain and subjugated surrender, the female terrorist appears to be done, albeit conscious as she lays prone, gripping her wound tenderly. "I... I give up!" she wheezes out between spasms, covering her head with her free hand out of fear of additional blows. Her male counterpart, however, doesn't quite agree. "You coward!" he shouts, gun still brandished wildly. "I've come too far for what I was promised!" His words are cut short though as Kid Cthulhu blasts him hard, sending him spiraling along side his cohort, one last attempt to rise back up to continue the good fight ending in ultimate failure as he simply collapses. With the scuffle over, one of the younger SWAT members promptly cuffs the feminine terrorist, removing her hood to reveal a beleaguered, bag-heavy set of eyes inset into a surprisingly young face. She couldn't be much older than her mid-twenties, but signs of fatigue remain rife on her visage even as she's forced to her feet to be escorted off. "We've got an injured officer inside. I repeat, injured officer inside." he also barks into his radio, indicating the conclusion of the situation. ---------------------------------------- Outside, a wave of relief washes over the couple as they reach the safety of Freedom City's finest, exchanging hugs and tears before a pair of EMT's approach to escort them for their possible injuries. "Thank you. I just... thank you." the woman says between sobs, giving Cobalt Templar one last thankful glance as she and her partner are escorted to the ambulance. A good deed done, one of the police smiles broadly. "Boy, you guys sure work fast!" the man in blue apparel exclaims, young and brash. "That's five hostages out in almost no time since you folks started showing up!"