Avenger Assembled

The skeletal remains of the fallen inquisitor turned at Nick's words and simply led them across the countryside, the UN team giving the now-man-sized monster as much space as they had back when he was sixty feet tall and trying to smash Nick with a bone sword. Edge occasionally fell back to give status reports on his walkie-talkie, freeing Nick and the skeleton to talk as they made their way across some of the rougher parts of the island towards what was evidently still a beach. Despite bony feet and animated limbs, the skeletal priest showed no hesitation in crossing shallow streams, climbing rocky, forested slopes, and finally simply walking across one luckily deserted road. When they finally reached a lonely stretch of beach that was, if anything, even more deserted than it had been that day so long ago, the inquisitor pointed out to sea. "by the crag, some thirty fathoms deep. long has it lain there undisturbed, awaiting the touch of man to awaken it again. in life i called for the mightiest of our priests to purge it of its corruption, but venal men in cardinal red feared its power and left those of us with faith and blade to battle such things alone."

"the sea-lich's power is great." As the ossuary golem spoke, it began to wither, ever so slightly, bones gradually falling away to pool at its feet in a potentially lethal rain that showed its former bulk getting smaller and smaller, gradually taking the skeletal shape of what once must have been the man beneath all the bones. "even in death he may swallow the soul of a living mage who bears his mask to hand. only one with a strong soul and no knowledge of fell sorcery may lay hands upon the accursed item. are you a worthy champion of righteousness, englishman?"

Changeling is/was sickened. Crimson Tiger is sickened, bound, and helpless. The Snare took a bruised from Sharl's Power Attack and is now at Tou 14. Changeling is up.

As the scene around him dissolved into illusionary chaos, the Green Man shook his head. "Little saplings, your tricks annoy me! Your power is nothing before the might of nature itself!" He drove his fist into the ground and seemed to prove his theory as plants erupted from the clearing beneath their feet like a bomb, thick, massive vines that snarled and entangled, flowers erupting with sticky, sickly-sweet pollen: Changeling took an eruption of what looked like giant, clinging dandelion seedlings to the face while evading clinging vines, Crimson Tiger, less used to this sort of madness, was caught unawares and quickly bound, pinned to a tree by thickly curling grape vines while the thick smell of plants rose so thick in the air as to make her gag. Citizen flew out of the tree he'd been half-in and out of during all this and made a beeline for Crimson Tiger, calling to Changeling. "He's got Dr. Metropolis in the tree-throne!" He reached out and grabbed the super-tough vines pinning Mali down, the woody restraints slowly beginning to crack underneath his electronic grip. His signal was beginning to degrade with all this plant matter blocking the beam, but even as he grew translucent he found his mark and began to pull. "Push hard!" he told Crimson Tiger urgently. "Stupid plants!"

Working together, Ghost Girl and Cobalt Templar were able to deactivate the remainder of the bombs, the black annihilation devices disappearing into nothingness as their very programmed nature was decomplied by their combined power. This had the happy side-effect of freeing Leroj from the programmed prison where Rogue had trapped him, and he and Sharl had a happy reunion on the deck of the great plankton ship before they had to get back to the business of taking care of Tronik. "There are a lot of fires to put out here...in more ways than one," said Sharl unhappily, looking at the city that had nearly been destroyed that day. "I'll message you how to take care of Rogue on the outside. I need to spend some time here." On the outside, talking through the monitors with occasional glimpses of his city behind him, Citizen talked the other heroes through removing the portable drive where he'd installed Rogue's program, making sure they put it somewhere well-insulated. The teens had come out to see Ms. Harcourt almost fully healed by the advanced medical facilities of the Sanctum, the Centuritrons and Dr. Mark Leeds having done a bang-up job repairing her many injuries, with Sage nearly easy by comparison. By the time Citizen stepped out of the program to rejoin them hours later, both teacher and student were healed, though Sharl himself still looked a little battered. "My parents pass on their regrets that we didn't get to meet," he said a little tiredly as he dropped into the control room chair, "and that you're all invited to visit any time. I'm sorry the visit went like this," he added, "but we saved the day, and the people of Tronik know that there are heroes from another dimension, allies of their own Citizen, ready to save the day. We did good, despite everything Rogue tried to do."

OK, folks, give me some social investigation checks! Interaction skills, Gather Info, Notice, Investigate, Search, and various socially-based Knowledges are all appropriate.

"If she's anything like Morrie's previous girlfriends, they're up there in the royal suite drinking and smoking marijuana cigarettes," said Nina, who had spurned the alcohol as well for the steaming-hot Socotran coffee provided. "Say, maybe he's gotten someone pregnant," she added, her eyes widening in surmise as she smiled. "That would be interesting, at least, especially after what happened with Murjana and that Dakanan nobody. Far more likely he's found some pretty American girl of no particular background who likes the idea of having a royal station." She wrinkled her royal nose at the thought. "Nina's sister hooked up with Man-Hyena, that Dakanan supervillain who tried to overthrow the White Lion about ten years ago. Typhoon took it pretty badly," murmured Mark. And to his date, he added, "Don't judge your brother too harshly for that. It was you who called me a peasant in the limo when-" Nina elbowed him in the ribs, her dark skin not quite letting her blush, and he went on smoothly, "Anyway, why don't we circulate, see who's here, and maybe eat some of that fish pie before the guests of honor arrive?" he suggested to the others. "Assuming she's not some kind of vampire or something," he added to Nina, "maybe I can show you how _I_ dance." He was evidently referring to something, because that got a smile and nod out of Nina.

"All that we have done here has been another defeat for the forces of the Terminus," added Harrier. "We have plucked these lives and these futures from this burning world, and proved that life and justice can triumph over death and loss, and that the promise of universal death can be made false through courage and sacrifice." He thought of that little girl Erin and Jill had befriended, of Samson and his murdered family, of the burning cities and the doomforges, even of those like Green Screen who had sacrificed their very souls to win life in this place of death. In the burning room where the last living souls on Earth stood, he said "We have gone into death, and found life. This is all that can be done." As the air grew hotter, he waved the last of the civilians through, and Jill and Dragonfly both, before exchanging a long look with Erin. "Do not fail to follow," he said as he made his own way to the portal, Erin just behind. As the portal closed behind them, they heard the distant noise of falling rocks, and heard what sounded like a terrible howl...and then they were back in HAX, crowded with refugees, security guards, and Terminus technicians, everyone looking to the four arriving heroes to restore order! Knowing the others were better-suited than he to dealing with the civilians, he headed straight for the captured Terminus technicians: already in restraints thanks to the watchful security staff, under Steve's eye they abruptly became very cooperative.

Electra and I will be away for the weekend gaming. We'll see if we can get online.

Green Man: The Green Man can't penetrate Changeling's Illusions, but he knows something's up. He has two General Area attacks, so he sets them off: Nauseate 10 Reflex vs 20, Fort save vs either 20 or 15, depending on made saves. He's going to surge without fatigue here, so everyone take an HP. Snare 15 Reflex vs 25 to avoid the effect, then DC 25 or 17 to avoid being caught by it, depending

"If that is an elder dragon of the Terminus above us, he is capable of generating enough heat to make this mountain uninhabitable." Though it would have protected him against the heat, Harrier had dropped his armor: as long as his friends could stand this, he could stand it. He didn't press his boss for how long her repairs would take; he had faith that the heroes of Freedom would triumph. And if the portal did open late, well, he knew who would be going through it last. He stood tall and erect, sweat just beginning to beat on his bald head. "Young Freedom's dethroning of Omega has brought about civil war in the Terminus. Where once Annihilists were rivals, now they are enemies, and at war. And all who believe Omega defeated, even for a time, know who has done it, and why." He actually smiled. "For the look on Mandragora's face alone, I would have come this far."

Mark had promised a busy party, and sure enough he provided. The Socotran Consulate was a red brick building some two stories high, an old North Bay Federal-style mansion that the Socotran government had bought out and converted years earlier. If you ignored the giant bronze statue in the front yard (Typhoon holding the world between his hands) and the Socotran flags flying in the evening breeze (a dragon's blood tree in white on a blue field, with the clearly recognizable armored face of Typhoon growing out out of the roots), it might have looked like any other mansion in the wealthy neighborhood. As it was, though, Redbird had had to work to find a place to park (since she couldn't jostle her way in among these limos) on the crowded street: there were going to be a lot of people there tonight! It wasn't long at all before Mark and Nina made their appearance; just as Trevor and Erin approached the iron gates of the Consulate, the princess and her handsome escort arrived riding a column of water to the gasps and exclamations of the crowd. There was no need for them to wait in the line that was mostly a security formality, they were waved on through, and were waiting for Trevor and Erin outside the building when they came through the gates as well. In his actually fairly plain black suit and blue tie, Mark might have looked handsome-albeit-ordinary with his all-American blonde, blue-eyed looks, at least until he made eye contact and the intense personality within erupted forth in a winning smile. He was getting almost as much attention from the crowd as Nina herself was; the princess proudly holding court in her sparking red and gold dress and pants, silk and diamonds glittering together against her dark skin. They were a complementary pair, at least, looking at the crowd like a best friend and a shark respectively. "Hey guys! Some party, huh? And we're not even in the front door yet." Mark exclaimed as his friends approached. "Wow, you look great! I like the suit, Trevor, and the dress, Erin." he complimented his friends then turned to Nina with a "See, I told you they could pick out their own outfits. You've got to trust people more." "Yes, your couture is well-chosen," the princess conceded, casually bypassing the line of well-dressed people heading into the building and pulling Mark along with her. "But you are resourceful people." For all the sharp practicality she projected, she hadn't let go of Mark's hand since they'd arrived. "I've been told that my brother is already here and that he and his, ah, bride-to-be will be making their appearances at the start of the evening meal. His suite is on the second floor if you want to investigate once he's below." "But first, the party!" offered Mark, and at Nina's command the doors swung open for them and the princess and her escort entered. To the growing crowd inside a front hall furnished in Socotran hardwoods and dark stone, the liveried servant announced, "Hail Nina al-Darsah, Daughter of Typhoon and Princess of the Sea! And Mark Lucas, her escort!" The front hall was mostly mingling now, people talking and socializing beneath the huge oil paintings of Typhoon and his family, the open doors at one end showing the dining and dancing hall to come. There were quite a few Socotrans there, easy to recognize in their brightly colored clothes and dark skin, as well as many local Freedomites of the right sort: the kind of rich society types who had an interest in a moment like ths.

Mara: The room rises a degree as soon as Mandragora vanishes. The Vault will start getting hotter and hotter, roughly one degree a round (starting from a base of 75) until the heroes die. I will let you know when and if you need to make extreme heat checks.

Mandragora flinched at the look in Wander's eyes. For the billion billions dead at his hands, few champions of Wander's might had lived to stand and look him in the eye with pure defiance. "You...you would not find me here, girl. I would not set foot on the surface of a world that provided so little challenge," he added, his eyes hardening. Harrier knew well enough what he was looking at: Mandragora had shown fear, and been seen to show fear, before his enemies. "Take Steelgrave's pawns and go. They mean nothing to me, and should mean little enough to you. It doesn't matter. Whether in fire and flame or beneath an Omegadrone's pike, your world will fall like all the others. Lord Omega will return." Having retrieved his pike from the far wall, Harrier took this moment to face down one of the many long-dead ghosts of his past. "I am Stephen Franklin Murdock of Nihilor, of the blood of Steelguard's World." The homeworld of the greatest of the Annihilists had been taken by the Terminus too early to have a standard designation. "If you dare to fight, Dragon of the Terminus, then fight and you will be met. But if you were truly brave enough to fight to the death, Lord Mandragora...you would not be here at all." Without another word, and without a glance at Wander or Harrier (particularly not Wander), Mandragora's hologram vanished from view.

With the bonus I was already planning on giving Wander this time out (+10, given Young Freedom's reputation in the Terminus, and he's seen nothing to take away from that), he can't beat that! So

"englishman." Was there dissatisfaction on the face of the great limbed ossury that loomed overhead? Perhaps it was just a trick of the light. "i warred hard with heaven and hell to guard these bones and the souls of those who lay beneath. the holy father feared the power of the golden mask of the sea-lich and forgot our struggle. what can you do now twenty-five score years from when we slew the sea-lich?" The attack had stopped, but the ossuary golem didn't seem inclined to hear reason. "We can make sure you go home for a Christian burial," replied Edge, already doing some fast calculations about what transport they had available. "And all the others, too. You don't have to be here alone and forgotten on this land." "...no. we came these thousand leagues and twenty-five score years. i will not abandon the place where we fell, the place where we have been forgotten by the world of men. wizard. your offer?" Mark had the creature negotiating, at least, no small feat under the circumstances.

Sure enough, Mark did email Trevor and Erin with the details of the get-together later that night: this was a royal function, one of the grander ones the Consulate had put on since Typhoon's state visit after the '93 Terminus Invasion, and so rules for a fancy dress ball were in place. Traditional Socotran cooking involved lots of dates and fish, and with the royals in attendance there'd be a heavy emphasis on tradition. Typhoon might be a modernizer, a man who'd famously soloed against a team of superpowered Islamic terrorists on more than one occasion, but by God he was a Socotran and his people knew it. Mark would be wearing his black suit and blue tie, repaired now after the trip to the Terminus. There'd be Western-style dancing as a concession to their location, and non-Socotrans were fine enough in Western dress, but the Socotrans would all be in traditional garb: in Nina's case, that meant a brightly-colored long red dress over pants, covered in flowery yellow petal designs, only a close look would reveal the gems sewn in around each and every bud. It was a peasant's outfit, if the peasant's father was the king. They'd be expected to arrive at nine and party into the wee small hours; the heavy Ethiopian-style coffee served in lieu of alcohol at Socotran functions meant the crowd could enjoy the cool desert night until it was quite late indeed. Nina passed on a warning that the Consul _would_ try and solicit them while they were there; he'd been aggressive about cultivating Freedom City businessmen as investors in the booming economy of the islands, A quick investigation by Midnight, meanwhile, revealed that sure enough Morakot al-Darsah was something of a sybarite and drunk: he was still handsome, but the burst veins in his nose in the most recent tabloid photographs showed what drinking could do to a man. His abstemious father had not been amused. There was no word about anyone he'd been seeing seriously, indeed, not much from him at all in the last few months. Trevor was able to find that "Morrie's" special vice was actually gambling more than drinking; he had a tab in every casino on the Boardwalk, and had been ticketed for attending various underground fight clubs over the years. Betting on everything from boxing to dogfights, he seemed to have a particular taste for bloodsports.

He's shouting "Smash the worker of death magic! In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost! Smash the sorcerer in the name of Christ Jesus!"

"...shields up!" declared Edge as the sword came down again. This time, though, it hit something in between. The fallen pieces of the camp, tents and personal effects and other things all around them, abruptly rearranged themselves at Edge's mental command, forming" into a massive cube around the two men like a concrete bunker. In fact, on closer inspection, that was exactly what it was. The sword hit the bunker with a boom, the hastily-erected concrete structure shaking beneath the impact, but standing unbroken despite all that. "destruir o trabalhador de magia morte em nome do Senhor Jesus! Salve as ilhas! "It seems really mad about something," said Edge, looking at Nick with a baffled expression on his face. "I don't know how long these walls are going to stand up to that pounding, but at least he's going after us and not after the rest of the camp...man, I wish I'd grabbed one of the Portuguese speakers. Is it talking about Jesus?"

"Where are the rest of them?" asked Edge with uncommon perspicacity. Anyone else might have looked absurd in colorful cape and costume as he faced down the Soviet survivor, but the sheer force of his suspicion and anger made him a golden beacon of justice there on the crowded street. "The other soldiers who were changed like this. Or..." His eyes narrowed. "Did you forget about them? Did you just let power pour into their bodies and leave them laying around like they were bombs, instead of your own people?"

That's a miss. Go ahead and post IC. Sorry for the delay here, guys!

As Harrier brought the unconscious Samson over to the hastily-evacuated medical bay, he mused grimly that the colors below now matched the colors above: the ruddy glow cast over everything in the Vault by the glowing emergency lights matched the color of the entropy-raddled sky outside. "Unconscious yet, and with blows to the head. Shrapnel knocked him backwards, and his head hit my chest..." Harrier let his armor retreat at that, feeling a surge of guilt as he laid Samson down next to Jill O'Cure. "If he leaves here, I believe he will recover." That was an open question as Dragonfly worked on the machine; most of the equipment itself was still intact, but several vital small processors had been pierced by the errant shard of steel: at home, with advanced parts, it would be a matter of seconds. Here it was going to take time to fix, minutes that they might not have. And then the hologram appeared: in a shimmer of energy that was clearly recognizable as a high-tech projection snapping into place, the translucent form of a human being appeared: Mandragora was a tall man, even taller than Harrier, with what would have been Asian features on an Earth man, handsome despite a nasty burn scar on the right side of his face. He has long black hair and wears red armor, emblazoned with a golden Chinese dragon. At the sight of the Dragon of the Terminus, Harrier spun around and threw his pike through the air: the sizzling tip burying itself in the wall behind the Annihilist's projection. At the attack, Mandragora smiled. "So the stories _are_ true." Behind Harrier, the former Terminus technicians quailed at the sight of the man who'd held absolute power of life and death over them once, but Mandragora spared them hardly a glance, instead looking at all four of the heroes in the room with a fascinated expression. "Here I thought I was simply destroying a traitor to his world, but there are far more interesting things here. A Dethroner of Omega, the free Omegadrone, and the scientist and the healer who dared cross the threshold to this burnt-out cinder of a world." As if on cue, there came a great, distant, barely audible roar from overhead. "You'll have to forgive Esau. He takes the death of his sons and daughters poorly. But I suppose he'll have to be disappointed today."

Round 2: Nick is not detecting _any_ necromancy from the giant golem, which is a little odd. And when he looks closely, there only seems to be one ghost there. Edge puts a shield up around himself and Nick, using his Create Object effect. The golem hits it. What the heck, I'll actually roll: 35 Nice! OK, let me post IC

27 A terrible roll! Let's call that just plain old injured. Have another HP. You can spend an HP for inspiration to figure out what it's saying, if you want.

Edge was already moving as Nick spoke, the hero-turned-UNISON-agent flashing back and forth around the camp in swirls of black dots like drops of ink, catching the UNISON staff before they could panic and blinking away with them en masse to a safe zone up the mountain, watching in horror as a giant boney mass rose above the camp out of the collection tent, a terrible humanoid shape a good fifty-sixty feet tall! Within seconds, he blinked back to the now-deserted camp alongside Nick, watching as the huge creature took shape. Blotting out the stars above, the gigantic skeleton-assembly stood sixty feet tall at least, its arms and legs and limbs made of the bones of all the dead colonists in a massive amalgam of bony horrors. "Well, I know this is bad," said Mark reassuringly to Nick, even as he tried to think of a solution that didn't involve just shattering this thing to as many small pieces as possible. That seems awfully mean, but it doesn't look very friendly... "But you're a really powerful necromancer, you can handle this, right? My friend once ripped the head off a zombie dinosaur, and she's just badass, not even magic! You can handle this!" It pointed a finger made of dozens of fingers and arms at Nick and boomed in a terrible black voice. "feiticeiro quebra de morte! feiticeiro quebra de morte! em nome do Pai, do Filho e do Espírito Santo!" The great boney creature whipped back an arm and formed the bones and earth that made up its flesh into a giant sword and swung it, clearly targeting Nick rather than Edge, the massive blade cutting the air just a few feet from the necromancer that it dwarfed.