Avenger Assembled

Seems to check out! APPROVED

APPROVED

'Tengu' arrived in the broadcast booth just in time to see her quarry escape! She had a quick glimpse of a dark-haired woman in archaic dress stepping into a quick-closing elevator and one aristocratic sneer before steel doors emblazoned with obscene Greco-Roman carvings closed shut with a 'boom.' Inside the broadcast booth she found a dizzying array of screens and equipment she didn't recognize. On one of the screens, a security camera that showed a wild melee of silent explosions and hand-to-hand combat, she recognized the second Raven and Bowman IV, who seemed to be fighting their way through a heavily-guarded steel structure somewhere on the ocean. The rest of the broadcast booth, as far as she could tell from the primitive human technology, showed where signals were being broadcast all over the Earth - a trunk leading out to every continent, even India, and at least one broadcast (sent out to Puerto Rico) seemed to terminate not on Earth but aimed up into the vastness of space. From the system map before her, this was an all-too-popular show.

you know what, I will say it just fails that and she crashes through!

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4370443/ = 26 He is demoralized! So he could potentially fail that check.... http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4370446/ = 25 Bummer! But at least you've got his attention.

That does hit the glass! http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4369206/ Which cracks! It's tough, but not quite that tough.

An icy fog with glowing red eyes poured onto the roof with the heroes, gradually reforming itself into a weird figure in blue and white, his red eyes glowing from the darkness beneath a fuzzy white and blue parka. "Good evening," Comrade Frost intoned in his heavy Eastern European accent. "Listen to you, children of Freedom! What music you make." Suppressing a brief chuckle at the self-indulgent joke, Frost spread his gloved hands. "So, we share mutual interest in investigation, yes? I am veteran of these things. And part of your Freedom League, yes?" Truth be told the People's Hero's membership in the League was only in the auxilary, but it certainly wasn't a lie to say such things. "You, big fellow," he said, pointing to Graft, "you as tough as you look? We can kick in door porheps while young ladies enter through rear?"

Erin and Trevor rode through the so-changed streets of Camelot City, through streets filled with fat burghers, scuttling urchins, farmers in town for the holiday, and other symptoms of a medieval city. It was cleaner than a 'real' city of the late 1400s might have been, but still nothing like a modern city on Earth-Prime. Well, except for the wizards, people in flying carpets, and others who might not have been too out of place in Erin's own Freedom City. They rode past the gates of what was clearly a strangely changed Hanover Zoo, now a massive park in which manticores and griffens were visible within huge iron-barred enclosures, and along a Wading Bridge covered in foot traffic, peddlars, alms-merchants, and a great horde of others heading for the city. After all, this was a special occasion! With the royal standard everywhere, the symbol of the House of Camelot everywhere, it was clear this was going to be a remarkable day in the city's history. Outside Freedom Hall, they found an obvious melee about to begin as the Brass Knight faced off against Hronos the time golem, a being neither of them knew very well. "It wounds me to my soul to strike three down," said Daedalus, wielding a massive xiphos that glowed with channeled arcane power, "but if the Devil is in you I will soon strike him out and have you whole and well again! These tricks and tales of some altered place will avail you nothing. Come, so that I may perform a surgery!"

Rav, is Blue Jay going to intervene? (i.e., should she be rolling initiative?)

At Shadowblade's approach, suddenly the open door slammed shut with a boom so loud it shook icicles loose from the roof! The house proved impervious to Silver Magus' senses just as it had to Hronos's, leaving it something of a black box there in the darkened, snow-covered street. The doorknob turned just slightly when Shadowblade exerted herself against it, if the heroes were going to enter by force, they would need to work as a unit - or perhaps attack the material of the house altogether! Luckily the darkness of the night, and the quality of the neighborhood, meant that they were unlikely to be branded as burglars by watchful neighbors. Overhead, a flash of white light and a loud noise showed where a plane made a noisy descent, briefly cutting off conversation amid a shriek of jets, before it touched down at the nearby airport.

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4367514/ Stealth = 20 No sign of the Trench Coat - but Kit does see someone who looks very much like her (Trenchcoat) huddled on the ground with the other hostages! I will say that, given Kit's knowledge of chicanery (and so that you're not stuck playing OOC guessing games), the most logical place for the other to be would be in the broadcast booth with Empath.

Foreshadow: 31 Wraith: 26 Blod: 26 Crimson Tiger: 23, Bruisedx1 Operator: 19 The operator of the laser array gets 19! All right, Foreshadow is up. Don't forget that the guns are out of melee range (and mounted into the wall) so attacking them is going to require some Wall-Crawling, Flight, or a Fastball Special. It might be easier to aim for the operator, for all that she's invisible up there behind the glass of the announcer's booth.

Woo-hoo! That's great, SC. And what a nice use of your 10,000th post.

Have an HP, Vahnyu, and give me initiative! http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362976/ = 11 for Daedalus http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4362978/ = 41 for Fast-Forward

Used to working with someone who preferred to remain hidden while attacking from a distance, Fast-Forward kept moving and busking for the crowd, casually falling back on the memories of a family circus of superpowered acrobats and wizards who managed to make vice and sin look like the most exciting thing in the world - at least until their repentance in the last act. Always wanted to storm into Freedom Hall and kick some ass. Guess this isn't the time. With a wince, he stopped dead in the dirty, snow-covered street, cognizant of the fact that the usual person who answered those thoughts wasn't listening - and if she was right now, she would probably turn him into the armored goons who were hammering up posters about BEWARE DOOMSAYERS AND ASTROLOGERS on tavern walls, shop walls, and something in the middle of the small square at the edge of the Camelot Hall complex that looked very much like stocks. Hatehatehatehateitwhensomeonescrewsaroundwithtime...Looking down at his digital watch, he gave them both another ten minutes or so before he'd suggest to Blue Jay that they try some time travel. Across the avenue that lay between the shops that served those who dwelt within Camelot Hall and the outer moat of the small fortress complex, the Brass Knight, in the company of Hronos the time-golem, landed and took a few strides towards the gate before suddenly Daedalus drew back an armored fist and punched Hronos in the back of the head! "My friend, I will make peace with thee when I have pulled the demon from thy iron body!" called the Brass Knight as he squared off against Hronos, the crowd of citizenry fleeing in a panic as battle between two of the doughtiest knights in Camelot was on! Fast-Forward dodged his way through the crowd and the stampeding horses, trying to get a sense for what was going on.

The house is a weird blank spot to chronal anomalies, as if someone has built something specifically designed to block chronal scans!

It wasn't Hologram who joined Cobalt Templar and Shadowblade, but rather another beloved Discovery Channel personality - Fast-Forward. Jogging up so fast he appeared to zip into place alongside them, Fast-Forward looked over his big old-fashioned shades and said, "Hey, kids. Paige is tied down with a shoot today." He kept moving as he spoke, zipping around the two heroes as he spoke like a jogger not wanting his muscles to lock up. "But I heard you were having a magic problem, so I brought a book along to help." He winked and pulled out a small leather-bound book. "I'm not much on this nerd stuff, but I've been looking up some of the things Paige was telling me and you've got a crazy situation going on there. What's up?"

OK, this is a Rank 9 area attack DC 19 reflex save to take half (or no) damage from lasers. DC 24/19 Tou save otherwise Gimmie some initiative!

The group's brief pause seemed to last forever, but in reality it only took a few moments. Suddenly the crowd roared and the announcer called out in full-throated glee. "YESSS! Blood has been spilled today in the name of humanity! VICTORY! VICTORY for our champions the Birds of Prey! Hold that head high, Tengu, show them the way his eyes ROLL in his head as he dies! I hope you like the taste of TARTARUS, alien scum!" And then she laughed as the imaginary crowd cheered their names. "HAIL the Birds of Prey! HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!" And then, distinctly, came the announcer's voice sounding far more rational - indeed, cold as ice. "Thumbs down, you weak sisters." And at that moment, the laser turrets overhead opened fire in a staccato of red bolts that was no less real for not being broadcast to an international black audience! An explosion came from inside the booth at the same moment, sending a scattering of armored glass down on the heroes below even as the guns above opened fire again.

The heroes followed the trail of the missing car to a nearby residential neighborhood near the airport; a district of cheap, nearly identical row houses where airport maintenance staff, junior flight attendants, and others without the time or money to make a more lasting investment in the city. It was easy enough to find the missing car, buried as it was against a telephone pole. From all the ice on the unshoveled sidewalks beneath their feet, it wasn't hard to guess that the car had skidded and had a one-car accident. Luckily no one was hurt - or so it appeared. Tracks in the snow led towards a nearby house, one whose shuttered, barred windows and dark exterior lights failed to match the swinging open front door. The tracks led right up the porch steps, across the porch itself, and into the one-story building itself.

"We can use your help," said Tessa seriously, giving a sharp look to her quarreling brother and uncle to remind them of the gravity of their situation. "We're understrength right now and we don't have time to wait for the rest of the family. The Professor doesn't go out of his way to kill, but they won't hesitate to hurt those people below if they think we're delaying them. The Psions are the toughest enemies we've ever faced, and they've only gotten worse over the years. I still can't believe they brought their kids, even the second generation didn't do that..." She shook her head. "Who do you think is defecting?" When Josh was named, Jack Wolf looked suspicious. "That kid's been talking about defecting for what, seven years now? Eight? He's the weak link in the chain, I'll give you that, but his grandfather wouldn't bring him on the scene if he didn't think he'd fall in line." He scowled, his stubbled face looking even older than his years. "Don't trust him." "In any event, Solar Sentinel, you've been on the scene, we've got to trust your read," said Max. "What's your game plan?"

Harrier Demon Knight Caradoc knelt in prayer among the League of Camelot and felt the sin burning bright in his heart of steel, a dark, corrupting flame that whispered black temptation in his mind. This is not your place. This is not your name. This is not your life. This world is false. This is a false life. You know what is true. CARNAGE. A thousand unspeakable horrors swam beneath the closed eyes of the battle-scarred knight, horrors that would have made him weep if the roots of his tears had not been pulled from his body so many years ago. He was alone in a crowded room, the others of the League assembled by the Queen as her personal guard keeping a safe distance on wooden pew or stone floor as they gingerly avoided the touch of the demon-tainted man. No - the monster of steel and demonic agony that wore a man's flesh. Deep in his soul, deeper than gods or mortals or spells could go, Caradoc knew what he was. The demons had come in the night and dragged him to the deepest forges of Hell, subjecting him to cruel and blasphemous tortures as he begged for mercy, begged for mercy even as his own screams blended with the cries of uncounted millions. Until finally he stopped screaming as his mouth and flesh were torn apart, and his very soul torn out and replaced with a burning engine of demonic hate and unspeakable rage. The thing that had risen from the demon-wizard Steelgrave's table that night was no man, but a nightmare of steel and demonic flesh to hunt and harry at those that loved in the world above. How many had died beneath the flaming ebon blade of the Demon Knight? How many had done worse than die? There had been so many like him dragged away, some by his own power, so many who died screaming only to rise as something worse than dead at the commands of Hell itself. There has been other worlds like this one once; ages of Creation with their own heroes, own knights, own gods; all now lost thanks to the King of Hell that sought to pull all of Creation down into the Pit. When the paladins of the League had dragged him down with golden chains and brought his soul back to his body by searing bright magic, he had expected to die - how many of their champions had died writhing in agony impaled around his burning blade? How many of their families had been ground beneath his heel in the long, bloody war with the armies of Hell? The man he had once been, a worm raised amid the hellgods of his native sphere, one long since corrupted and destroyed by its own Dark Lord, would have spared no champion of Hell to live, just as the Lord had allowed no fell witch to do so. But instead those he had fully expected to be his holy destroyers had become his greatest friends. They had blessed him and forgiven his sins, and given him a place among their ranks as a defender of the Realm - albeit one disguised by alchemical sorcery as simply another knight. The population could not bear the Demon Knight walking the streets as one of their own again. The deception had troubled him once, and perhaps did still in that knightly part of him that had been forged nearly by accident by the demons who had stolen him away, but he had seen too many sunrises among cheering crowds and happy families to regret the choice he had made for long. They had been kneeling since sunrise beneath the smell of incense and cedars, when the Queen had called them to the Hall to brief them against a new and terrifying enemy, but so long in submission was nothing compared to one who practiced self-mortification. How can I turn against this world that has given me so much? He thought of a home, and bed designed to hold the ebon iron frame that lay beneath his scarred brown skin, and hot food whenever he wanted it. And Angelina, the Camelot Angel, the impossibly beautiful woman who he just happened to know was a clockwork machine controlled by sympathetic alchemy made by the woman he loved. Their courtship had so amused their mutual friends; the common knight and the very angel made flesh - how might they have felt if they had known the true story of what they were. She thinks herself a hunchback, but is more beautiful than Queen Morgan when she is in my arms. How could he, and he alone, turn against this place when it had given him all that he was? He listened to Queen Morgan tell them of the infernalists who had penetrated the ranks of even of the heroes of Camelot City, of those who even now might well be marching on Camelot Hall, and knew deep in his soul that the voices that told him to reject this world must be the demons that had ripped out his soul so very long ago and replaced it with cold, unthinking steel forged from the iron of Hell itself. I cannot listen. I cannot listen. But that was the problem, you see, with being a monster. The voices were never silent.

"Gina! So nice to finally meet you!" Angie instantly revealed herself as a hugger as she wrapped her arms around Peter's mysterious sibling and gave her a tight squeeze, gently setting down the basket carrying the wide-eyed and bushy-tailed Renee. "You know Renee, and Petey Jr. Say hello, Petey!" She smelled like hotel soap and perfume, her sweater and jeans just a little behind the Freedom City fashions. A little shyer, perhaps a little scared still by everything that had happened, Petey Jr. waved nervously from where he stood next to his dad, his eyes torn between Gina and the looming figure behind her. For his part, perhaps because he knew his sister a little better, Peter was more careful, awkwardly reaching for a shake, then a quick hug. "Glad to finally see the place, Gina." He smiled, looking around a little shakily, before settling on the big figure behind Gina who had welcomed them so eagerly. "You must be Big Steve!" He extended a shaky hand, one that Steve met with the firmness that meant he was fighting nerves of his own. "Nice to see you again. I was pretty blazed on those drugs last time I saw you." "It is a pleasure to see you as well, Peter, and you, Angela," Steve said to the adults, giving a friendly, albeit stiff smile to the child and the baby. "Come into our home." They walked into the living room, Steve reaching down to squeeze Gina's hand for his reassurance as well as hers. This was a key moment in their relationship, and in her life, and he was acutely aware of her tension. "All the good things you see here are Gina," he said seriously when Angie complimented the decor. "When we met, I owned very little." "I gotta go potty!" Peter Jr. suddenly declared, wide-eyed.

Not one to leave an enemy behind them, Caradoc struck off the head of the last surviving drone, then impaled it through the chassis. Withdrawing his blade, he held the crackling weapon by the center handle. "We need misdirection," he commented before driving his blade into the floor over their heads, the sheetrock, and then the granite, parting with a sawing motion. He began to carve a round hole in the floor like Bugs Bunny with a saw, commenting, "We are here. The hive knows. We remain united, but the hive can be persuaded to...divide!" he grunted with effort as he slipped his blade between crevasses, pulverized rock falling on his armored body like baby powder over the slow, persistent bass hum of energized blade against mountain rock.

Up inside, the shadow watching the broadcast booth's door had moved on. Peering inside the arena itself, Kit could see the little family group at work. Jump had taken over watching the kids in what had to be a fortuitous bit of strategy, while Ember was entertaining herself (and terrifying the all-too-human spectators-turned-hostages she was deliberately circling as she walked) by setting fire to bits of scenery. "London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down, London Bridge is falling down, my fair LADY!" With one last blast, she actually set part of the overhead scaffolding aflame, then sneered at Jump (who she'd evidently been arguing with) "There! You see how good I am with the kids!?!" She took off and hovered overhead, a smoldering cauldron of barely suppressed resentment, as well as being so flaming hot like molten plasma it was almost difficult to look at her. "Patience, my children, patience," came the reassuring voice of Professor Psion, now coming from both the old man in the wheelchair and by speaker, aided by Empath's manipulation of the crowd. "The Atoms are here, and they will come to us. Perhaps Jump failed to catch the rat he sought to flush out, but today we will finally end fifty years of endless warfare. Today, we will show the Atoms what we have built...and if they are wise, they will join us. Ember, remember," he chided, "make sure you leave the hostages unhurt - we need teach them fear only if they...forget." And as the crowd flinched at his words, he nodded in grim satisfaction.