Avenger Assembled

Citizen House of L Revisited Behold the Citizen! The Lands Beyond "What is this thing you humans call love?" asked Citizen, the robotic sentinel, of his friend Seven as they sat together on the Claremont campus. There was a party going on, one of the many that seemed to be going on all the time at the happeningist place for heroes, but as usual they only had eyes for each other. Everyone thought their relationship was only platonic...if only! "It is not logical," he informed her gravely. He understood emotions well enough; after all, his people had once been humanoids before their transformation into androids by the Curator, and he'd spent enough time around humans like Miss Americana to understand many of them. But romantic love between two teenagers, neither of whom were old enough to create biological offspring together by the customs of their culture, was most illogical. So what was this feeling that stirred in the blue and gold-clad robot's heart around Seven? "Well," said Seven, patting her friend's hand with patient understanding that a more sensitive man might have seen as a deeper longing, "love is...love is like oxygen for organic beings," she told him gently, flowers stirring beneath her fingers as she stroked the garden box on the other side of the gazebo where they sat. "We need it to survive, to really be happy. Don't you ever want to have...love?" They were watching Corbin and Quo-Dis make googly eyes at each other, Quo-Dis proudly wearing Corbin's cowboy hat with that look in her eye that said she might be wearing something else for him later, and something in what the handsome senior and his girl had together made the witchy teaching assistant wrinkle her nose in a way that had nothing to do with casting spells. She supposed it was unethical in some ways for her to have this crush on the teenage student, but the heart wanted what it wanted, and anyway they weren't that different in age, just a couple of years. "I have...many kinds of love," said Citizen thoughtfully, putting a steel hand to his chin as he tried to consider how to proceed. Human emotions were so fraught with danger and peril, driven by a thousand wants and cares of the flesh: how he longed to "I love the Centurion, who protected our people and liberated us from the Curator. I love my parents, who assembled me together and raised me, and I love Miss Americana who has been my teacher about the world, and I love...I love..." He put his hand on Seven's and gazed raptly into her eyes. "I love...you!" They kissed, then, urgently and frantically on the lips and cheeks, before they pulled away, gasping. "Oh, Sharl!" cried Seven, hugging him to her chest as he embraced her in the same moment, overwhelmed with the sort of passion that only young people overcome by the sheer power of heroic love and emotion could feel. "Can we make it work? Can a human and a robot really find love together?" She looked up at him. "I believe in free love as much as any girl, but is the world really ready for us?" She knew how tough people in mixed relationships had it, whether interracial, interspecies, or both, and an organic/inorganic couple was about the weirdest, wildest thing she'd ever heard of. "We can make it work," Sharl reassured her, taking her hand in his. "Mixed relationships may be controversial with _some_ people, but only with those squares who are too blinded by hate and fear to understand the logic of pure love." They kissed again, the scent of rising patchouli oil in the air, and snuck away from their little love nest to rejoin the party. Maybe the Radio Freedom kids of the last class had graduated already, having helped save the world from Omega, but the new generation of Radio Freedom kids were ready to help save the world from everyone over thirty. Well, not _everyone_; of course groovy Guses like Duncan Summers were always welcome among the kids whose exploits they had long admired. As he and his new girlfriend joined the party, the mechanical Citizen sighed. Sometimes he wished very much to have a fleshy organic body, something denied him by the Curator's actions so long ago. He had the brain patterns of the teenager he would have been, downloaded into the body his parents had built, but he lacked the flesh to go with it. He'd talked with Miss Americana about his feelings, but the beautiful giant had always reassured him that he was just fine the way he was: a marvel of alien engineering with a hero's heart inside his steel chest. She was also a great source for romantic advice, and one of the people who'd helped persuade him that it was worth acting on his relationship with Seven before it was too late and he went back to take up his duties as part of the Centurion Assistance Squadron up in Tronik, the robotic city in the Arctic that was his home. In his blue and gold uniform, Sharl was the first of the Tronik androids trained to act as the Centurion's aides to leave the Sanctum and fight alongside the heroes of Freedom, but of course that duty wasn't going to last forever. It wasn't until much later, when he and Seven were cuddled up together in the aftermath of the latest Rocking Rift concert, psychedelic colors still whirling in the air from the groovy genius' wicked grooves, that Seven broached a question. "We'll find a way to have children," she told him in a voice that spoke of calm surety. "With your science and my magic, we can make anything happen. It doesn't have to make sense, as long as we have each other." There was something vaguely troubling in her words, but Sharl certainly wasn't about to complain. After all, everyone knew love conquered all. And without his love for Seven, where would he be?

Off to Raleigh for two and a half days, with mighty consequences!

Second Week of January, 2012 Young Freedom 2.0 goes to the Sanctum, and by extension to the Claremont Academy. (This is set after Wraith's return from the Hunter planet, chronologically)

Second Week of January 2012 Christmas and New Years were not a particularly meaningful holiday for Sharl, lacking a cultural understanding of the holiday and a chronological mindset that made the change between one year and the next relevant to his day-to-day life. It wasn't even like he'd gone onto a new grade at Claremont yet, something that made all this talk of school years seem terribly archaic. But things had gone pretty well for him; he'd gotten a house upgrade from Miss Americana that he was still customizing; the incredible, sinful luxury of another five rooms to himself, not to mention a simulated animal to tend to, was still something he was trying to wrap his mind around. Home and how different it was from Claremont had been on his mind lately: he'd managed a trip back home during the school holiday to visit his family in Tronik and to do some more superheroing in his home city, where the "mysterious Citizen" had gotten a chance to pull off some pretty impressive feats of derring-do, culminating in a spectacular rescue of a sinking exploratory ship on its way to visit the new set of islands Leroj had helped raise at the end of the previous month. No one on the outside had seen that, and maybe none of them would care, but he'd still felt good about it coming out. And that, he thought, had been that until Mr. Summers had summoned him and all of Young Freedom into his office the first day they were all back on campus after the Christmas break. Even with Mrs. Harcourt, by no means Sharl's favorite teacher, as their chaperone, Sharl was inordinately happy: they were going back to the Sanctum, the place that held his home, and with any luck his friends would be able to see it for themselves! With his usual laptop as his companion, Sharl put aside his house and went to work studying the school's files on the Sanctum again, heedless of the Arctic winter outside their jetplane window. After all, the Sanctum was one of the great repositories of super-tech on Earth, as well as the home of his home city: he'd better know something about it!

Harrier, Scholar, Victory, and Wraith You have all been abducted by Alphan long-range teleporters on the night of January 3, 2012 from your bed to a planet in the Mintaka system. (It's real, look it up!) Conscious characters (i.e., those who were not sleeping) felt a moment of dissolution (DC 20 Technology check to recognize a teleporter, DC 35 to recognize Alphan specifically) before awakening in the air. You fell about 5000 feet before landing in a jungle near the north pole of Mintaka. Attempts to fly away reveal an impermeable force field; you're obviously all being directed to the riverside jungle clearing where oh hey there's an Omegadrone standing there waiting for you!

January 3, 2012 Mintaka II Murdock's eyes snapped open as he felt the rush of atmosphere against his bare skin, taking in the scenery below him in a moment of raw confusion as he sussed out where he was and what had happened. He'd taken a double-shift at HAX, overtime in the local word, and collapsed into bed as soon as he'd returned home. He'd gone to sleep and woken up here, thousands of feet above an unfamiliar sub-tropical jungle, the blue and white stars in the sky instantly telling him he was nowhere near Earth-Prime, and probably nowhere near Earth at all. (That there were stars in the sky and not the red glow of the Terminus was a relief so welcome he forgot for a few moments about the incipient fall). He'd been brought here for a purpose by beings possessing a powerful technology; the feral surroundings below him suggesting he'd been brought to be used rather than interrogated for his knowledge of the Terminus. He hated being used. A few moments later, Terminus armor exploded from his skin, shielding his body from the cold and rushing winds that had otherwise threatened to take his breath away, his armor's sensors reaching out to the jungle below and trying to get a better grasp of what he saw: a mountain range in the distance, a heavy jungle of massive trees like Earth's palm trees but twice as large, a purple-dyed river...he used his jets to slow his fall, but not to change his landing site, guessing that he was still under observation and the less intelligent, less resourceful his unknown enemies thought him to be, the better it would be when the time came to prove them wrong. Looking up, Harrier saw three rifts in the purple sky; spatial vortexes or other anomalies, perhaps like the one that must have transported him from Earth to this planet. Standing all alone in the jungle of an alien world, the sounds of unknown animals in his ears, he tensed, his pike crackling to life in his hands as he looked up at the sky and waited. If that _was_ the enemy up there, they would find him not such an easy mark awake as he had been asleep.

Despairing, and with no allies, ultimately not even herself, the Nazi agent finally confessed, or all she knew at any rate. She almost certainly was from Hope's native timeline, a place where Nazi rule had been consistently undermined for decades by the organization put together by Midnight in the 1940s, and had recently begun to collapse all-out now that the Midnight Resistance had technopathic biotechnology to destroy the Nazi superweapons, and now that they carried weapons like the Cobalt Ring and the Eye of Argon. But while life had grown better for those liberated, for those still trapped under the tottering American Reich that ruled roughly from the Mississipi to the Rockies, things were very bad: starvation was common as Nazi leaders hoarded all they had for themselves, leaving their subjects to die in the name of the master race, and epidemics and other disasters were common among a people too poor and hungry to rebel. Everyone expected the Reich in Berlin to attack them at any moment to prevent the further spread of the American rebellion, killing even their allies to avoid such a cancer. "There are thirty-seven of us that I know about," she finally said, "I can tell you the names of some, jobs of others here. It's surviving Axis agents, people like me who were taken off the street, and others." She shook her head, a look of defeat on her one lovely face. "It doesn't matter anymore what you do to me."

With the disappearance of Madame Zero, the fight seemed to go out of her thugs, those on the square surrendering right out while others fled into the block of apartments she had encapsulated earlier in the morning, hoping to take shelter among the anonymity of those buildings. After a long pause and as people in the buildings began to peek out and take stock of the heroic victory in the square, one of the rimed-over windows in the building just behind Weaver's opened up, and a man emerged: stepping out, he slid down the ice-covered sides of the building with the speed and grace that only a superhuman could have matched. When he reached the small group of heroes, he pulled back his Freedom City hooded sweatshirt to reveal a dignified African-American man in his mid-fifties, his handsome face marred by an obvious cybernetic attachment over the left side, with a red mechanical eye on that side like a laser sight. "My name is John Carlton, but people used to call me the Eye of Justice. I'm glad you three were here," he said at Weaver's approach. "All of you. I...I don't know what we could have done without risking many more lives."

That'll do it, and I'll put us out of combat now.

"Okay," said Mark, nodding and dismissing the idea without hesitation. "I guess I just...well, you're a really cool guy, Trevor," said Mark frankly. "Whenever I can't think of what to do, I just try and imagine what Trevor would do there. So I guess when there was an Erin who wanted to date me, I..." He shook his head, sensing that this was potentially another awkward scene. "Plus, she was really cute, so there's that!" He grinned, cheering up quickly as he put his mind on more important things. "Anyway, it's probably for the best. Nina al-Darsah and I sometimes have a thing, and if I had a regular girlfriend she's probably...oh man, yeah, I didn't even think of that!" He hmmed and added, "Listen, I interrupted your celebration this morning, so I'll let you guys get back to it." To Mark's credit, he didn't so much as wink, though the urge was palpable in him. "Happy birthday, Erin!" he called, loud enough for her to hear, before disappearing like a popped soap bubble.

Mark hmmed, studying Trevor for a moment. He hadn't said yes and he hadn't said no, and now he was vigorously hunting for something. Is it liquor? I bet it's liquor. Maybe then he won't be so on edge. Or maybe he wants to pour me a congratulatory drink? I don't know! Mark was beginning to think the idea of dating the Erin from Earth-Prime really was a bad idea. It wasn't worth this kind of uncertainty with his best friend. "Hey, if you're looking for something to drink, I bet there's something up above the fridge. People always forget stuff up there..." Sure enough, when Mark reached up there and stretched, he came down with a bottle of slighty dusty, but still-good, Tennessee whiskey. "And we didn't buy it, so it's all legal!" he said breezily.

As Erin disappeared, Mark ran his hand through his short blonde hair, looking abashed. "Man, I guess my special present wasn't so good after all." He eyed the cuckoo clock, glad something he'd done that day still worked. "Some friend I am. Sorry I took you over there without any warning, Trevor." He put his hands in his pockets and added, "Say, uh, I wasn't trying to start anything with the other Erin or anything, but when we were hanging out in Paris, I kind of got the idea she was interested in me." He gave Trevor a questioning look and said, trying to pitch his voice so the other Erin wouldn't hear, "Would it be awkward if you were dating an Erin and I was dating an Erin at the same time?"

Harrier Birthday Vignette The Lands Beyond Who You Are In The Dark Freedom League Oral History Project The starships were like none seen among the forces of Omega, nor the barbarian rabble of the High-Exiles, nor the Shadowbane or even the shining Furions. I recall their great metallic bulk as they fell through the edges of the Ravel, the great dark fringe of the Terminus that is the nothing between dimensions, the jangling horror of their electromagnetic signals howling in our ears as we made our approach. The sound of life that has not known the embrace of Omega is a constant, thrumming agony to those who hear nothing but the Voice, a pain sharp enough to focus the attention and drive the intellect towards total destruction. Few impulses are granted those who serve the Knight of Entropy. The greatest of these is the loathing of what is. The starships had come to the Terminus as many do, in consequence of a terrible mistake in the construction of a dimensional gate. Some are more fortunate than others and merely sacrifice themselves to the yawning maw of entropy, others slay whole realities as the doorway they left open becomes the teeth and jaws and tongue to devour all they once held dear. These ships were of the first variety, unwary explorers who learned of the true dangers of the multiverse, and of the subversion already present in their own reality. Shadivan Steelgrave had planted his agent among their crew even before their arrival, a blind-eyed engineer whose cybernetic graftings let him gaze rapt forever at the glory of the Doom Coil, and through his workings those ships were delivered unto our destruction. We left our transports and fell among the starships like the doom ants of Nihilor among the fleshy sheep of the Coil, and soon their pleas turned to cries as we slew them. Many drones died as well, of course, but the death of a drone is of no consequence to anyone. Not even himself. Most starships not built in the Terminus are designed to fight other great vessels, not a never-ending horde of drones small enough to fly through their gunports and slay the men guiding them. Their destruction was not so great a task. I recall at last there were a few dozen of us remaining, our transports aflame from phased particle bombardments that had ignited their hulls and shattered their crews asunder, and but one starship, fleeing now out of the Ravel and into the heart of the Warpwold as interstellar drives gave them an escape their dimensional gateway could no longer offer. I was in the center of the formation of drones, a heavy attack unit like all the others, with no more thoughts, no more cares, no more dreams than all the rest. The magnetic blast erupted from the rear batteries of the starship, striking me full-on with a beam cross-sectioned as wide as my armored form. I recall the agony of burning circuits, as if even my very mind was aflame, the foul taste and stinging acid of burning blood and fluids in my mouth as I burned even inside the armor, and then finally a single moment of terrible dislocation as the starship went to warp and I fell back amongst the other drones. There was a moment of awful stillness there in the cold and chilling dark of space, and then I remembered. I remembered it all. And I began screaming, and screaming, and screaming into the void as horrors upon horrors convulsed my mind and racked my body, and I howled as I felt the bite of pikes and the burning hiss of coil-flame against my armored body as the other drones turned on the traitor with the cold, implacable fury of a hive destroying a member corrupted. I might have died there. I might have opened my armor to the icy kiss of the Ravel, I might have slain myself with the weapon I still carried, and indeed am carrying now, I might have sped away into the cold dark between worlds and been forever lost there. But salvation came in the form of those who sought my destruction. To choose to die in a convulsion of grief and guilt is one thing. To choose to be killed, even in the darkest night of the soul, is a different matter entirely. My fingers pulled tight around my pike and I screamed my own name, before I opened my eyes and I fell among the other drones, cleaving them in twain in flesh as I had been cleaved in twain in the soul. And when it was done, all done, and I was all alone in space, I buried myself among the shattered starships I had made and hid among the ruins of the lives of others. To be alone among the dead in the heart of the Ravel, where matter, energy, life, and soul fall into a quiet stiller and colder than the Doom Coil itself, was a long cold night that seemed to stretch into infinity. I sat in a room full of the murdered dead in the heart of a shattered vessel, the monster that had taken their lives and the lives of so many others, and I remembered. I remembered it all. The feel of my bones torn from my flesh. The screams of the dying and the worse-than-dead. The faces. The voices. I might have stayed there in the dark forever, but in the end I realized I would be hunted and slain, or far far far worse taken again and changed again, and all of it would be for nothing. And I could not allow all that I had been, all that I had done, to be for nothing. I have said elsewhere that I lived again the first time I walked the surface of the Silver Tree in the company of the Furions, a free being among free beings for the very first time. The first time I felt the sunlight of a living sun on my face, a grace I had known only from song and story even in the days before I had been broken in the forges. The first time another called me a man and not a thing, recognizing me only as his brother and not what would have slain him in the time before. The first time I knew again a woman's touch. But it was there that night in the great black dark that I chose to live. It was a good day.

Mark blinked, sussing out this new reality and instinctively adjusting to it, or, rather, getting it to adjust to him. "I'm so sorry," he said sincerely to Roger and Clarissa, worried that he'd upset his friends' parents without intending to. "All I wanted to do was give Erin a birthday she wouldn't soon forget, and I guess...well, I guess I let myself get carried away. I never meant to do anything to frighten you about your daughter's safety." He looked away, abashed for a moment, and then focused right on the local Erin. "But the person I owe the biggest apology to is standing right here in front of me. I'm sorry our trip got interrupted," he told her with perfect sincerity. "If you ever want to see Paris again, I can make sure it happens on a much better day, though I don't know how I could have better company." He smiled winningly. "And hey, you got a chance to see three of the best heroes in the world do their thing, and an adventure most people would never believe. Not everyone's that lucky. I should know." He was still visibly bruised and battered from the savage beating he'd taken from the mimes, but it didn't seen to bother him. "I think we should get out of their way," he suggested to the others, and with their assent, they all vanished back to Freedom City and Erin's apartment.

Vampire with a Power Ring PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 0 pp STR 18/10 (+4/+0) DEX 12 (+1) CON n/a INT 12 (+1) WIS 12 (+1) CHA 14 (+2) Combat: 16 pp ATK: +4 (+8 Magic/+10 Melee) DEF: +10 (+2 flat-footed) Init: +1 Grapple: +14/+20 Saves: 10 pp TOU +10 (+4 Protection, +6 Power Ring) FORT n/a REF +5 (+1 Dex, +4) WILL +7 (+1 Wis, +6) Skills: 56 r=14 pp Bluff 8 (+10, Skill Mastery) Concentration 4 (+5) Diplomacy 8 (+10, Skill Mastery) Knowledge (Theology and Philosophy) 4 (+5) Languages 4 (Arabic, English, German, Hebrew) (Base: Yiddish) Gather Information 8 (+10, Skill Mastery) Intimidate 8 (+10, Skill Mastery) Notice 4 (+5) Sense Motive 4 (+5) Stealth 4 (+5) Feats: 21 pp Attack Focus: Melee (6) Benefit (Wealth 1) Connected Contacts Dodge Focus (6) Eidetic Memory Fascinate (Bluff) Skill Mastery (Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate, Gather Info) Ultimate Save (Will) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Well-Informed Powers: 98 pp Concealment 4 (all visual) (Extra: Duration [Permanent]; Flaw: Vs. Machines Only) (PF: Close Range) [5 pp] Device 11 (Seal of Solomon) (Hard to Lose) (PF: Restricted [Cohenic bloodline]) [45 pp] Comprehend 2 (speak to and understand animals) [4dp] Feature 7 (Buys Off Sunlight Drawback) [7dp] Flight 3 (50 MPH) (Flaw: Platform) [3dp] Impervious TOU 6 (Flaw: Not Vs. Blessed/Fire/Silver) [3dp] Magic Array [27+2=29 pp] BE: Blast 12 (PFs: Accurate 2, Variable Descriptor 1 [any divine]) AP: Move Object 12 (Heavy Load: 48 tons) (PFs: Accurate 2, Precise) AP: Strike 6 (Extra: Penetrating; PFs: Affects Insubstantial 2, Extended Reach 2 [+10 ft], Improved Crit 2, Improved Trip, Variable Descriptor 1 [bludgeoning/piercing/slashing]) [20/27] Protection 6 [6dp] Super-Senses 3 (Detect Magic 3 [visual]) [3dp] Drain Constitution 2 (Flaw: Requires Grapple) [1 pp] Enhanced STR 8 (to STR 18/+4) [8 pp] Immunity 30 (Fortitude Saves) [30 pp] Protection 4 (Extra: Impervious; Flaw: Not Vs. Blessed/Fire/Silver) [4 pp] Regeneration 6 (Recovery Bonus +0, Resurrection 1/week) (Flaw: Source [blood]) [3 pp] Super-Senses 2 (Darkvision) [2 pp] Drawbacks: 10 pp Weakness (Holy Items; dazed by Charisma check) [-3 pp] Weakness (Sunlight; dead in 1 minute) [-7 pp] costs abilities 0 + combat 16 + saves 10 + skills 14/56 + feats 21 + powers 98 - drawback 10 = 150 pts ---------------- Design Notes: For another holiday-themed build, here's a vampire with Solomon's seal just in time for after Hannukah. Look, it happens. My idea here is that this was a rebbe or some other Jewish theologian native to Eastern Europe in the 19th or early 20th centuries. Attacked and transformed by a vampire who'd learned that feeding on outcasts like Jews and Roma was safe, he was able to use his faith to control his hunger, as well as find justification for his own existence. (While blood isn't kosher, one can eat non-kosher food in order to survive and he has no further options) However, he still looked for a cure, and so headed to Jerusalem looking for answers. He found no salvation there, living in the shadows and culverts of the holy city under Ottoman rule, but his explorations did lead him to something close: the long-lost Seal of Solomon, the magic ring carried by the legendary Hebrew king. With the powers granted to him by the ring (which weakened, but did not abolish, the effects of his curse), he became a defender of the Jewish people, donning a mask and costume after the appearance of the first costumed heroes. As with the Solomon of legend, he can talk to animals, as well as summon all manner of demons and djinn to assault his foes, with abilities even to shove around djinn and pin them fast, or smite monsters with summoned divine weapons that can even cleave the (actually imprisoning genies permanently is a little outside the scope of a PC's abilities, and should probably be treated as a plot device) He can visualize magic by concentrating on them, or summon Solomon's mystic chariot to fly around at speed. He's a solid PL 7 without the ring, as you'd expect from a vampire of great power, though his abilities are grounded more in tremendous force of personality (like Doc's ring-bearing vamp, a cheap way of buying 'mental powers'). Logical progression would include letting his ring protect him from more vampiric vulnerabilities (i.e., buying off his aversion to holy symbols as it does sunlight), or perhaps adding more magic powers like Create Object (which he lacks, unlike most ring-breaing characters. Obviously there are some unfortunate implications here, but I rather like the idea of an Ashkenzic Jew who rises above forcible transformation at the hands of an evil vampire to become a creature of power. The assumption is that this character has been carrying the ring for at least a century, you could easily mix things up a little and have the ring be in the hands of a recently Embraced devout Jew who has decided to use his people's legacy to change the unholy fate given to him by another. He makes for an interesting NPC in a Golden Age campaign, especially if a Nazi vampire is out there as one of his great antagonists. (And yes, I do have this out of my system now, and you won't be seeing any Christmas vampires here...)

"Yeah, they're fine," said Edge breezily. "At least, nothing stopped me from hopping all the way around the city, and popping out to Marseilles. Seraph says hey, by the way," he added to Midnight and Wander. To Erin, he added, "Here, take my number," he said, slipping her his fancy new UNISON business card. "Call me any time on the international line," he offered breezily, "I'm usually working during the day, but I've at least got access to my phone all the time. Maybe next time we'll go somewhere a little quieter, like Rome or the Caribbean," he added with a wink. He did owe her that walk, and presumably some place less overrun by giant robots would let them actually finish it. "Here we go!" And with those words, they vanished in a flash of energy, reappearing right back in the Whites' living room.

As if summoned, Edge and Erin-Prime appeared from the air just a few feet in front of them, Mark's arm around the other Erin's shoulders. She was wearing a gendarme's jacket over her own, and was still clinging close to Mark from the shock of the whole experience. "-easy to find them. Hey, here you guys are!" Mark was just saying. "There's a French team inbound ASAP, and the local cops have the situation on lockdown for now. I think we can take Erin home," he offered, shooting a glance her way. This had been one of the best afternoons ever, beaten and battered though he was, but he had a feeling a civilian, even a civilian version of Erin, might not see it that way. "And hey, how's this for an exciting birthday, right?"

Ice Vampire PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 10 pp STR 10 (+0) DEX 14 (+2) CON n/a (-) INT 14 (+2) WIS 16 (+3) CHA 16 (+3) Combat: 16 pp ATK: +4 (+8 Ice Powers) DEF: +8 (+2 flat-footed) Grapple: +4 Initiative +2 Saves: 10 pp TOU +12 (+4 Protection, +8 Force Field) FORT n/a REF +5 (+2 Dex, +3) WILL +10 (+3 Wis, +7) Skills: 14 pp=56 r Bluff 7 (+10) Diplomacy 7 (+10) Intimidate 7 (+10) Knowledge (Arcane Lore) 3 (+5) Knowledge (History) 3 (+5) Knowledge (Pop Culture) 3 (+5) Knowledge (Theology and Philosophy) 3 (+5) Language 1 (English; Base: Old Norse) Notice 7 (+10) Sense Motive 7 (+10) Stealth 8 (+10) Feats: 13 pp All-Out Attack, Dodge Focus 4, Fearless, Luck, Move-By Action, Power Attack, Precise Shot 2, Taunt, Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 91 pp Drain Constitution 2 (Flaw: Requires Grapple) [1 pp] Flight 3 (50 MPH) (Extra: Affects Others, Flaw: Platform) [6 pp] Force Field 8 [8 pp] Ice Vampire Array [27+6=33 pp] BE: Blast 12 (PFs: Accurate 2, Ranged Pin) 'icicle blast' AP: Create Object 8 (Extra: Continuous, PFs: Precise, Progression, Selective) 'ice walls' AP: Damage 12 (Extra: Alternate Save [Fortitude], PFs: Accurate 2, Improved Crit) AP: Drain Toughness 12 (Extras: Affects Objects (+0), Ranged, PFs: Accurate 2, Slow Fade) AP: Environmental Control 8 (1000 ft, extreme cold) (Extra: Selective) AP: Snare 12 (PFs: Accurate 2, Reversible) Immunity 30 (Fortitude Saves) [30 pp] Protection 4 (Extra: Impervious, Flaw: Not Vs. Blessed/Fire/Silver) [4 pp] Regeneration 6 (Recovery Bonus +0, Resurrection 1/week) (Flaw: Source [blood]) [3 pp] Super-Senses 5 (Darkvision, Tracking 3 [full-speed, darkvision]) [5 pp] Drawbacks: 3 pp Weakness (Repelled by Fire; dazed by Charisma check vs. fire) [-3 pp] costs abilities 10 + combat 16 + saves 10+ skills 14/56 + feats 13 + powers 91 -drawbacks 3= 150 pts ------------ Design Notes: Here's my build for an ice vampire, a vaguely holiday-themed build that seemed appropriate for the holiday season. He's based on cold controllers like Killer Frost who absorb heat from the world around them to survive, except he really is a heat vampire! He's basically an undead Bobby Drake who flies around on ice slides, armors himself up with thick, bullet-absorbing ice, and fires a variety of icy blasts at his foes: he can hit them with a sharpened icicle, freeze them from the inside out with a touch, or wrap them in icy bonds or build sculptures out of ice to impress his girlfriend. He can also track targets by their body heat, and so precisely he can see even background-temperature objects in the dark. He doesn't have the traditional vampiric aversion to holy symbols, rather instead he's repelled by fire that breaks down his innately frozen body. He's smarter than he looks, and something of a trash-talker in combat, much like Bobby Drake himself. Similarly, his control over cold keeps him from bursting into flames in the daylight, though going out in the sun probably doesn't feel very good at all! You could go with the idea that this was an ice-wielding mutant who was attacked and bitten by a vampire, or perhaps an Alaskan sheriff who was transformed into a vampire and who learned to harness his icy environments to stave off the supernatural hunger of his condition. (As with most of our vampires, his need to drink blood is a Complication, not a drawback as such) However, I've built him with a novel assumption: this is a Norse vampire, an escapee from Nifelheim in particular, one whose body is infused with the supernatural cold that was his fate for a millenium before he made it into mortal flesh again: perhaps clawing his way back into his own body, or perhaps being summoned to possess (in a comradely, not masterly, sort of way) a modern-day hero. He's PL 6 defensively without his ice powers, enough to at least evade bad guys and perhaps even get that power nullifier off him. You could go a lot of ways with this, playing up his supernatural nature and giving him more ice powers, or boosting up his pretty solid skills: as it is he's a good face man for the group, and one who can keep everyone's drinks chilled at parties! (Even if he has to keep his own refreshments rather warmer these days, unless he's got blood pops or something...look, it's best not to think about it) He could use some Impervious on his Force Field to represent some really tough ice; alternatively you could add more vulnerabilities: perhaps he outright melts in fire and has an Involuntary Transformation background, or even just a really heavy vulnerability to flame.

Citizen's crunch, now updated to reflect his life changes since he's gotten to Freedom City and started going to Claremont. He's still PL 12, but he's much broader in abilities, skills, and feats: he has the silver tongue you'd expect from Miss Americana's sidekick and the charisma to back it up (also gained from watching Koshiro's excellent personal grooming), and has a mastery of computers that (while no match for a serious brainy gadgeteer) makes him very formidable in technological situations. He's also got Skill Mastery and more Luck, to reflect this stuff becoming second nature to him. He's also a little sneakier, to reflect his time sneaking around the town with Koshiro and Indira. His flying brick form is much the same; he's very much Animated Superman in terms of power level. He's got one more Luck to reflect how much more at home he is when he is, well, home, as well as a reflection of his status as the badass native hero of his homeworld. No Status feats to reflect that, though, while some Tronikians admire their new costumed champion, others are a little more skeptical. Hey, now there's an idea for a story... Don't forget to note his spent PP! [u][b]Abilities[/b][/u]: 0 + 6 + -10 + 2 + 4 + 6 = 8 pp STR 26/10 (+8/+0) DEX 16 (+3) CON --- INT 12 (+1) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 16 (+3) [u][b]Combat[/b][/u]: 16 + 16 = 32 pp Init: +7 ATK: +8 ranged, +14 melee, +16 unarmed Grapple: +12 DEF: +16 (Base 8, Dodge Focus 8), +4 flat-footed Knockback: -4 [u][b]Saves[/b][/u]: 3 + 4 = 7 pp TOU +8 (+8 Protection) FORT --- REF +6 (+3 Dex, +3) WILL +6 (+2 Wis, +4) [u][b]Skills[/b][/u]: 72r = 18PP Bluff 12 (+15) (skill mastery) Computers 14 (+15) (skill mastery) Knowledge (Pop Culture) 3 (+4) Knowledge (Technology) 9 (+10) Language 2 (English, Galstandard [native], Swedish) Notice 8 (+10) (skill mastery) Search 9 (+10) Sense Motive 8 (+10) (skill mastery) Stealth 7 (+10) [u][b]Feats[/b][/u]: 31 pp Attack Focus: Melee 6 Attack Specialization (Unarmed) Dodge Focus 8 Fearless Improved Initiative Luck 2 Online Research Power Attack Quick Change 2 Skill Mastery (Bluff, Computers, Notice, Sense Motive) Takedown Attack Taunt Uncanny Dodge (auditory) [u][b]Powers[/b][/u]: 1 + 3 + 40 + 16 + 2+ 8 + 7 + 29 = 106 pp [b]Enhanced Feat 1[/b] (Well-Informed) [1 pp] [b]Flight 1[/b] ('electro-static flight'; 10 MPH / 100 feet per Move action; [i]PF[/i]: Move-By Action) [3 pp] [b]Immunity 40[/b] ('living computer program'; Fortitude Effects, Mental Effects) [40 pp] [b]Insubstantial 3[/b] ('living computer program'; [i]Extra[/i]: Duration [default is Energy Form, Sustained Active effect to remain corporeal; [+0]; [i]PF[/i]: Innate[b])[/b] [16 pp] [b]Morph 1 ([/b][i]Extra[/i]: Continuous; [i]Flaw[/i]: Limited [only in computers]; [i]PF:[/i] Metamorph [Flying Brick Sharl][b])[/b] [2 pp] [b]Protection 8[/b] [8 pp] [b]Regeneration 6[/b] (Recovery Bonus +0, Resurrection 1/week; [i]PF[/i]: Regrowth) [7 pp] [b]Tronik Array 12[/b] (24PP; [i]PFs[/i]: Alternate Power x5) [24+5=29 pp] [list][u]BE[/u]: [b]Enhanced Strength 16[/b] (to 26/+8; [i]Extra[/i]: Affects Corporeal for Str +8) [24/24PP] [u]AP[/u]: [b]Corrosion 10[/b] ('EMP'; [i]Flaw[/i]: Limited 2 [Electronics]; [i]PFs[/i]: Improved Crit 2, Incurable, Precise) [19/24PP] [u]AP[/u]: [b]Datalink 9[/b] ('networking'; anywhere on Earth; [i]PFs[/i]: Rapid 8 [x100 million], Subtle) and [b]Dimensional Movement 2[/b] (any 'in a computer' dimension) [22/24PP] [u]AP[/u]: [b]ESP 9[/b] ('scanning'; anywhere on Earth, visual and auditory; [i]Flaw[/i]: Medium [Electronics]; [i]PFs[/i]: Rapid 5 [x100,000], Subtle) [24/24PP] [u]AP[/u]: [b]Possession 10[/b] ('electro-riding'; [i]Extras[/i]: Affects Only Objects, Alt. Save [Reflex]; [i]Flaw[/i]: Electronics Only; [i]PFs[/i]: Insidious, Subtle) [22/24PP] [u]AP[/u]: [b]Teleport 9[/b] ('transmission'; 900 ft/20,000 miles; [i]Extra:[/i] Accurate; [i]Flaw:[/i] Medium [Electronics][b])[/b] [18/24PP][/list] [u][b]Drawbacks[/b][/u]: -6 pp Weakness (magnetic fields; Uncommon, Major [-1 all physical ability scores], per 1 minute, potentially lethal; -6pp) [b][u]DC Block[/u][/b] [code]ATTACK RANGE DC/SAVE EFFECT Punch Touch Tou DC 23 bruised/injured Possession Touch Check vs Ref Possessed Corrosion Touch Fort save vs 20/Tou DC 25 bruised/injured Totals: abilities 8 + combat 32 + saves 7 + skills 18/72 + feats 31 + powers 106 - drawbacks 6 = 192/192 pts IPs HACKED SIMULTANEOUSLY BY GIZMO

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the young woman before them screamed. "Schiesse, just take me to jail!" she exclaimed, reaching up and tugging at her hair. "I can't take your hero eyes on me, judging me!" She looked away, balling her hands into fists. "None of you know what I grew up with. None of you can understand what it was like. To see the camps, to see the bombings, and to know what would happen if I failed my masters. I did what I had to do to survive and to protect my family. If you want to judge anyone, judge the fools who live in this paradise of a world and still listened to what I had to say. You can't corrupt the good, and you can't fool those who don't want to believe your lies already."

Edge took the call with surprising aplomb, Mark's French (with the Swiss accent that said he'd learned it while working at UNISON) turning out to be excellent. He'd have used it earlier, but naturally he'd assumed that the people in Paris spoke English and would have understood his dramatic speech better that way. Evidently he'd spoken to Binary before, and the two spoke to each other on the line like old friends (which was how Mark tended to speak to most people) as Mark walked away to take the call. He kept up a running commentary for the benefit of the others, occasionally raising his voice to yell, "Ah, so this was connected to the Beefeater guy in London last week! I was wondering!" or "It's some jerk in Purnuškės with a really powerful transmitter and a robot factory! They're trying to get a team in there but the Peoples Heroes are being territorial...hey, flowers!" One hand on the transmitter in his ear, he reached down and scooped up a small pot that had miraculously fallen intact from the observation deck above, the carnations inside still beautiful. "I'll go check on the other Erin," he said, "I'll be back in a couple of minutes. You guys hang tight!" And with that, he disappeared.

Madame Zero's struggles inside the bonds of Fleur de Joie's plants slowed, but didn't halt entirely, as Weaver's taunts sunk in. Madame Zero was one of the most powerful supervillains on Earth, but with three powerful heroes on the scene primed to attack her weak spots, it looked like her rampage was going to stop before it started. Her allies were still gamely in the fight, however, and a bullet zipped past Weaver's head, stitching a hole in his scarf but not actually hitting the man inside. The gunman in question was clearly visible below, cursing as he hastily reloaded his rifle in the shelter of an iced-over park bench The rest of the thugs previously in the plaza had retreated back into the shelter of their buildings, and with good reason as the temperature in the plaza dropped further and further, the heroes' breath turning to thick clouds of steam before them as the ice on the windows and surfaces thickened: Madame Zero might be bound, but her powers were not!

Under the circumstances, I'll say that demoralizing her succeeds automatically. (She's in pretty bad shape right now, after all!; plus with +10 Will she couldn't beat that anyway. The thugs are up. I'll say one is feeling lucky and takes the shot: a miss! Fleur is up.

"It's all right, I've got this!" called Edge, focusing on the robot with great determination. He was hurt, he was tired, and he was desperately clinging to the head of a giant robot while his friends battered and bashed at it. He'd caused them enough trouble today; he wasn't going to get them in any more danger on his account. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..." He concentrated, grabbing onto the flagpole that had impaled the robot's head with both hands, and called upon his powers to the utmost. The air around him visibly wobbled, and then, suddenly, the giant mime tripped and fell against the tower: the thousand foot high building did no more than vibrate, but the blow drove the flagpole in its skull through deeper into the body of the massive mime machine. As sparks flew everywhere, big ones that sizzled on the pavement, the robot staggered as internal circuits overloaded and an eerie, nearly ultrasonic wail came from its frame. Under all that internal pressure, the metal Midnight's acid and Wander's earlier blow had weakened gave way like a balloon punctured with a nail, and with its skin falling away, revealing the robotic frame over the mime's exterior, the giant robot tumbled to the ground beneath the Eiffel Tower and fell so, so still. Edge fell with it, and not well, his body spread out to spread out the impact as he plummeted towards the pavement.