Avenger Assembled

In the interests of time, I'll go ahead and say that Thunder and Justice go ahead and fail both saves. (Which I think makes sense, given their current situation!) http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4377490/ = JR gets 28 on his Reflex save http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4377491/ = and a 20 on his second one, so he is completely unaffected. Medea http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4377493/ =16 whiffs that first save http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4377494/ = 22 jeez! OK, Midnight is up.

Go, magic time-robot!

Icy crystals erupted first from the rocks, then from the rock man himself as an freezing white cloud descended over him, the glowing red eyes at the center of the cloud making it instantly obvious who was to blame. "Drop weapons now or I make no claims!" said the frozen thermovore, his voice a sharp bark of command that nonetheless seemed to sizzle like water freezing in Siberian air. "We come to bring you diplomacy, not to stand here and be pelted by rocks! Where is Igneous who brought forth the obsidian heart of Tezcatlipoca or quenched the unspeakable fury of Mother of Dragons? You are race who built temples of the vasty deeps. You know better than such foolishness!"

-Richard Cline, An Oral History of the Terminus Invasion Summer 1993 First National Bank of Lincoln Richard Cline stuck out in the crowd of customers waiting in line for the teller for three reasons - his tapping foot, rolling eyes, and general air of impatience marked him as someone eager to be anywhere else than waiting in line, his white skin and flashy clothes marked him as an outsider among the bank’s mostly working-class customers, and his baseball cap and sunglasses were just a little odd for this early in the morning. The other customers gave him a wide berth, when they weren’t glaring at him - just as planned. It was hot in the bank, but not quite hot enough for them to run the air - instead the music from the lot across the street gently thrummed in through the open windows. “Cause my heart is beatin’ triple time, yeah!” He did a little dance in place, snapping his fingers to the beat, and winked at a little kid watching him from the row behind. Poor little bastard, stuck in these lines with his boring mundane ‘rents. Maybe we’ll give him something to think about. He slid back and forth on his sneakers as he stood there, brand-new rubber squeaking again and again against the green marble floor. He and Paige hadn’t been back in Freedom City for a while, but they’d kept up their careers in New York and London, and even made the front page in the latter when they’d squared off against Britannia while making off with the Prime Minister’s watch. Maybe we should go to Canada next. Those jerks in True North could be taken down a notch or two. “What are _you_ looking at?” he sneered over his sunglasses at an older man in the business suit before he pulled the shades back up and made a rude face. Stupid old man, thinks he can start something. He yanked his fingers down his vest, snapping it tight, and thought Paige’s way. Baby, once we pawn the jewels, let’s run up to that theater in Queens and see Jurassic Park again. He knew his girl was already in position, getting the crowd in the bank ready for the show of their boring little lives, while he kept everyone’s attention through his confident demeanor and manly swagger. He tapped his pristine white Air Jordans and thought good thoughts about showing Paige a very good time in that darkened theater. Feeling like a T-Rex today! He was thirty years old, he had the best superpowers and the best girl in the world, and they were about to do what they did best - CRIME! Guard’s at the door...checking his watch...think he’s gonna go take a whiz. When he finally got to the front of the line, an eternally frustrating five or six minutes later, Richard pulled off his shades and smiled real big at the middle-aged clerk, flashing his pearly whites. “Honey, I got good news, and I got good news - first, you can take the day off. Even better is -” He jumped up and kicked off, speeding up the room and slowing himself as he did a totally, bodaciously badass flip that landed him on top of the counter. Enjoying the shocked faces of the crowd in that one long, frozen moment, he pulled off his magenta vest, bright red tie, black leather jacket, and white tee, and threw on the black and white jumpsuit that he’d been wearing since he was a teenager. “Fast-Forward and Hologram are here to put a little color in your lives! Everybody get down!”

Have another HP, everybody! Hronos, you take another as well.

... And then they were all in a darkened living room, and it was as if nothing strange had been happening. They stood on an old-fashioned brown shag carpet, just inside a big wooden front door, the faint sound of a television coming from the front room of what was now at least in plan a typical lower-income small bungalow. Inside the living room in front of them they could make out a man fast asleep in an orange and red easy chair, beer bottle fallen from an outstretched hand, while the television droned on about the Genetic Purity League. The occupant of the house was middle-aged and muscular, his grey crewcut and roughened hands making him look like a blue-collar worker catching a much-needed winter nap. Outside, thick, greyish snow lay spread across a small lawn, looking undisturbed by their footsteps. It was as if they had simply appeared there out of nothing.

The heroes burst inside the house, only to find it was hardly a house at all. Stripped of its furnishings and with a hole cut all the way into the rafters, a giant machine towered above their heads, glowing white and red and spilling uncontrolled chronal radiation like nothing Hronos had ever sensed before! They could just make out a small group of four individuals inside a big glass cylinder in the middle of the machine, the focus of its great energies - in their blue and white jumpsuits, the people inside certainly looked like something fantastic. Alongside, a white-haired, lab-coated fellow with a shock of white hair turned to the assembled heroes and declared "You're! Too! Late!" just before he pulled the switch! With a tremendous flash of light, the world around the heroes seemed to wash away in a brilliant explosion of power, walls, floor, ceiling, and each other lost in a wash of sheer, overwhelming power.

All right, that misses Johnny Rocket and Medea/Morgan le Fay is too high up to hit. So it's Captain Thunder and Lady Liberty making these saves. http://orokos.com/roll/161072 = with a 7, Captain Thunder is bound and helpless. http://orokos.com/roll/161073 = with a 22, Lady Liberty is also bound! Wander is up.

The giant gave a deep, frigid sigh that killed all the grass inside his summoning circle in a vivid brown transformation from the half-life of winter to the pure cold doom of the north. "Good. It has been a difficult two days." He turned and bit his wings in frustration, pulling out a few great eagle feathers and sending them fluttering to the ground. "The child-killer summoned my brother on behalf of Unferth, He-Who-Lives-In-Death, so that he might find a bride-in-death. He caught a witch-in-embryo who was not suitable for Unferth's ways, then was defeated by a water-witch too powerful to contain. I had feared it would be _my_ turn to be sent out into the world as his lackey." "So, what, this is just some weird rape gang thing?" said Fast-Forward, looking disgusted. "Man, that is nasty! And not really Medea's style." "No, no violation of the body," explained the giant seriously. "Unferth plans to blot out the body's soul and then summon forth his bride to fill the shell."

Silence fell across the room for a moment or two as the heroes took in Corbin's remarkable story. Mark stared at Corbin for a long moment before throwing his arms around the massive teenager and exclaiming, "Oh man, that's terrible! Are...are you okay?" he asked, looking up at him. "Are we still going to be friends even though you're like fifty now and you probably like nothing but old movies? I like old movies too!" He counted them off on his fingers. "War movies, and comedies, and...well, you'll see! I'm just glad you're back and you're not old for real." He knew all too well how tough it was to travel to other dimensions without preparation for it, and it didn't sound like Corbin had had any options cast away into the back of beyond. "I guess you're not a robot after all. Sorry about all the shapeshifter accusations, man. Are we still buddies?" "...wait a minute! Your girlfriend is Superior's daughter!" Nina pointed at Corbin. "Is that where he's from? Superior is an alien?"

Damn damn damn! I knew this day would come! Faced with the accounting of his manifold sins, Dimitri Peshkov rose to his feet and snapped to attention like he was on the parade ground of the Graduate School of the NKVD. "I am prepared, oh rigid one." He knew the name Kushiel, and the works of Yahweh's Fist, well enough. "If I have earned an eternity of suffering, it has been in the service of my people, so that they could-" "No no no, nothing like that." The angel, who towered over the diminutive Soviet and didn't seem bothered by the icy chill that had kept across the room, waved a beefy hand. "Not today, anyway. Heaven needs a champion." Frost crossed his arms and looked at the angel suspiciously, recognizing the symbol of Famine well enough but not seeing his own role in the situation. "And what does Heaven of the Nazarene need with Soviet vampire appointed to Lady Hel's service? Have you spoken to her of this?" "Of course. You know our policy better than most mortals - anyone willing to stand against the Adversary is a friend of ours. She said to tell you that there is no greater enemy of the mad gods of Asgard than the King of Kings. And that if you screw this up, she will take her knife Famine and her plate Hunger, and she will feast upon your-" "Ugh, I get picture, yes. Then in the interests of amity between Abode of Mist and Abode of the Blessed, I take your challenge, Kushiel." Frost relaxed, fractionally, and said the words, "I will take up the burden that you offer me."

-1 HP for Fast-Forward for the power stunt

Richard's attention had wandered off while the kids were talking about magic and monsters, thinking idly about how young they all were. Jeez, when I was their age, all I wanted out of life was a place to crash, some nachos and weed, and Paige to relax a little. While the conversation shifted, he started flipping through the small magical tome he'd brought, finding what he wanted after just a few seconds. "Hey, kids, I'm going to try something," he said confidently. Zipping to his feet from where he'd reclined beneath a dead tree, he suddenly began zipping back and forth in an geometric pattern instantly recognizable as a summoning ritual. He waved his hands fast, and from the outside his frantic gesticulations looked like a sorcerer's gestures put through a high speed filter, his chanting a high-pitched buzzing sound like a bandsaw in the second or two before the last few words resolved into "Scip-steorra! Send forth your champion!" And then right in the middle of the park, dead center of the now-glowing summoning circle Fast-Forward had traced on the dead grass, stood a Hraesvelgr, big as life! As people nearby shouted in alarm, Fast-Forward waved confidently, "Don't worry, folks, it's all part of the show! Catch us next week on Channel 34!" The great winged giant roared an icy roar and pointed at the speedster with one clawed paw. "Foolish mortal, the spirits of wind and frost are not tools to fill your bedchamber or your altar! My brothers and I will no longer be used as your pimps and procurers." The giant crossed its arms and glared at Fast-Forward. "You are not even the one who made the bargain in the first place! Did...did he _sell_ our words of power for gold?" "No, no, these were written down a long time ago, Tall Cold and Fuzzy," said Richard reassuringly as he held up the book. "We're not with that person anyway." He turned and gave an expectant look to the younger heroes.

With a quadruple flash of lightning, the League of Camelot landed in a square around Daedalus, faces at once alien and instantly recognizable to the heroes. The man in the silver-blue armor emblazoned with yellow streaks of lightning and carrying a sword that crackled with electrical power could be no one other than this world's Captain Thunder, now Sir Thunder and leader of the North American branch of the League of Camelot. He struck an imposing figure as he interposed himself between Daedalus and Wander, evidently recognizing her as the greater threat. "What is this madness?" The woman with the dual-headed flail like great bronze scales was clearly Lady Justice, once Lady Liberty herself, her eyeless helm a symbol of justice that strikes sure without recognizing distinction between man and woman, rich and poor. She whipped her flail around her head as she moved towards Fast-Forward and Midnight, her cold voice far indeed from the Beth Walton-Wright that Richard remembered. "Turning to sin again, Cline? Should I tan thy hide now, or leave your lady wife to do that for you?" A twin-dagger wielding Johnny Comet squared off against Hronos, not looking concerned at what twist of fate had put him in combat against the golem. "Machine you may be, but there's no devil I can't cut to pieces and send back to Hell," he predicted with a confident smirk on his goateed face. He danced from foot to foot, his leather armor not seeming to slow him down at all. And overhead, in a crown of gold and diamonds that sparkled with unnatural vigor, trailing a long purple and white ermine robe wrapped a little too carelessly around her body, was none other than the Queen of Camelot herself - Morgan Le Fay, instantly recognizable to a Crime League veteran like Richard Cline and Liberty League member like Wander - Medea! "We have them now!" she sneered, "leave no Devilspawn standing!"

"Oh wow, a robot! Totally! Awesome!" For a moment, Steve wondered if the boy's wide-eyed excitement would cause him to wet the floor right there, but luckily Peter Jr. had the wherewithal to run after Emerson rather than stand there excitedly staring at it. As little feet and whirring treads receded down the hall, Steve offered, "Your son is very handsome. He resembles his father very much." Steve had carefully memorized those phrases from his FLSCH-issued guidebooks, but Peter and Angie seemed much more interested in Gina's house. "This sure is a wonderful city," said Peter slowly, looking pleased at the sight of his sister's prosperity. "I saw pictures of robot superheroes at Albright, but a robot butler, shoot! That's great, Gina. You've done real good, girl." They made their way into the dining room while they waited for Peter Jr. to catch up, Gina's check of Emerson's internal camera revealing that the boy was sitting on the potty while eagerly chatting with the robot about space aliens. "You two must have some big shindigs here, with all this space and just the two of you!" Angie was saying. "That turkey sure smells good!" "We are private people," Steve explained with a glance at Gina. "I spend many hours at my work, and Miss Americana keeps Gina very busy. But the company for the holiday is very nice."

From her vantage point in the ductwork, Kit was clearly able to make out Empath Psion. Her short brown hair, flat brown eyes, and orange and purple jumpsuit should have made her look like an off-brand janitor - but there was something about Juliana Psion that made the air pop around her, a sheer force of personality that made even her proximity hard to handle. No wonder the men down there (formerly the game's announcers) were so compliantly following her orders as they worked to restore power to the cut-off broadcast booth; their nervous looks her way met with a warm, honeyed smile that seemed to make the boys melt in her presence. An outfit that might have been unflattering hugged feminine curves, a vision of what a true grownup woman should look like. 'Trench Coat' was down there as well, having shed her trench coat for silver and purple togs like Juliana's, albeit considerably less flattering. Trenchcoat, sitting intently by herself and concentrating with her hands to her temples, looked up at her cousin approached - she and Empath seemed to share a silent communion for a moment before the other shook her head and Empath moved on. If the telepaths were talking, they weren't talking out loud.

The 'rescue squad' will arrive on Initiative count 20 Wander is up

"Oh, thank God, it's not just me and Blue Jay!" said Fast-Forward, genuinely delighted at the all-too-familiar banter from the teenager who had just laid the smackdown on Daedalus. "Listen, Iron Pants," Richard said to the time-warped Daedalus, "I'm pretty sure a Greek guy shouldn't go around talking about how ooh, it could be Satan, so you should sit down before you fall down, you know what I'm saying?" Sizing up the new arrivals, Richard wasn't at all surprised (given how his day was going) to realize he had no idea who either of them were. For that matter, Robot here might be Johnny Number Five for all I know. I need to start Googling things, or at least memorizing all the new faces. "Hey, you kids!" he said, waving before he zipped over to the horse and the intimidating-looking kid up there. "I'm Fast-Forward, aka Richard Cline. You from the right side of things?" Meanwhile, bereft of his sword, Daedalus was raising an armored hand to his lips and calling, "Ho, friends of the League! The usurpers have come, just as promised by the Queen! I will hold them long as I can!" Overhead, as he spoke, a glowing orb took shape, cleaving off into half-a-dozen slowly coalescing humanoid shapes flying in midair. Evidently the local version of teleporters just wasn't as fast as they were in the land of science, which would hopefully work to their advantage here!

Initiative: Fast-Forward: 41 Blue Jay: 30 Wander: 22 Hronos: 14 Midnight: 11 Daedalus: 11 Fast-Forward is going to Taunt Daedalus as a Move Action! http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4373065/ = even with the minus 2, Daedalus is not impressed. As a standard action, he will talk to the kids.

All right, so he is disarmed! (I figure this works like spending an HP after a hit to acquire the Improved Crit or Critical Strike feat). Go ahead and post.

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4373011/ = 11 on his Sense Motive, flat-footed. Defense is 14, so that's +3 to the roll. So that's +20 vs +13. http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4373015/ = 22 on his Disarm

APPROVED

APPROVED

This one's kind of a toughie, Sand, but I think I follow your intent here. Fix your DC block, please, it's way off. That neurological disruption power is a bit of a mess. (and not a container, that's a linked power!) Since as written all those powers go off at once, it may not be as useful as yout hink.

What an interesting concept! APPROVED