Avenger Assembled

22

So is that the plan you're going with, guys?

Though Citizen had studied extensively about the supervillains of Freedom City, most of his work had been with Miss A and so it had focused on technical criminals like Scrounge or Dr. Stratos. Though he recognized the former Star Knight from his own studies of aliens on Earth, he had no idea who Hiroshima Shadow was. And so it was that, jet boots blazing, the armor of Daedalus came roaring into the fray like a bat out of Hell and flew right through the battered Hiroshima Shadow and out the other side. "Well, crap!" yelled Sharl, his voice muffled and tinny by the armor as he just managed to avoid crashing into the far wall. "Stupid old armor!" "Stupid is turning your back on me!" yelled Hiroshima Shadow, waving aside nagging cranes as he fired a blast of pure radiation at the armored figure, one that did absolutely nothing to the living computer program inside the suit, who lacked an internal anatomy that the Shadow had a chance of affecting. The Shadow spat a terrible Japanese curse and, still wobbling, faced off against Papercut again. "Nisei scum! I'll show you what I do to traitors!"

Citizen punches Hiroshima Shadow and does zip. Hiroshima Shadow Con Drains Citizen and does zip. (Technically he's dazed, but I like the image) Papercut is up.

For his own part, Caradoc hung back, trusting in the instincts of the others to handle this without unnecessary violence. He was no diplomat with children, not in a crisis like this. Melvin replied to Bishop with the casual cruelty of little boys everywhere. "Looks like you should have gone down the right path, metal-face!" Melvin looked sorely tempted by the offer from Miss Americana, indecision visible on his face, before he seemed to steel himself and come to a decision. "Maaaaybe...but if you're gonna be my Raven, I need to show you I'm cool enough to hang out with! Cola-Bots, get them!" "WE OBEY, MASTER MELVIN!" exclaimed the machines, A cola-bot obeyed his master's command, firing a soda can directly at Miss Americana that burst on impact, spinning away in a shower of store-brand diet soda. Another one took a shot at Caradoc, the impact having the same effect: absolutely zero. While Melvin's robots could probably have hurt an ordinary person, maybe a beat cop, they were no threat at all to superheroes, for all that they were gamely battering and pushing at Miss Americana now. It didn't take long for Melvin to realize this. At the sight of his robots failing utterly, Melvin's boyish bravado crumpled. Red-faced and looking quite stricken, the little boy bolted from his chair like a rabbit and ran for the doors!

I fixed your formatting. Remember to capitalize and alphabetize! If you are going to insist on Animate Object, provide some sample constructions for the GM to use. (There are some available in the book to use)

He passes Note that Donar is still flying, he's just stuck at 250 ft for the moment. Luckily, that's easily within Cannonade's jumping distance. Midnight is up.

Bishop's search found no Thackery on staff, but expanding his search did give him Melvin Thackery mentioned as one of the students. Young Melvin was about eight years old with a mop of red hair, glowering like only an angry little kid can glower in his file picture; everything else was sealed and would take a little more investigation to uncover. For his part, Caradoc simply took in the scenery, having never been inside a school. This one was much smaller than the ones he'd seen on television, and much quieter: it didn't take him long to realize that most of the students were still in their classrooms, and the kids inside did not look inclined to come out even to see the superheroes. "Ahah, welll...." The principal winced. "Mr. Thackery is one of our third-graders, and he's become a bit of a discipline problem lately. Rather than just call the police and put a mark on the poor boy's record, I thought it best if I bring some superheroes here to, you know, guide him down the right path..." They were approaching the cafeteria now, where the doors were spray-painted "KEEP OUT: MELVIN", giving the heroes just a moment to react. He pushed open the cafeteria door, finally, and revealed the reason the heroes were there. The cafeteria was dead empty save for a single human occupant: a little red-haired boy eating from an overstuffed tray, surrounded on either side by stacks of books. On either side of him and behind him were a total of three robots, crudely-constructed machines that were obviously crafted directly out of cafeteria vending machines, complete with arms and legs still bearing corporate soda logos. They seemed to be singing "Melvin is great! Melvin is great! We love Melvin! We love Melvin!" to the tune of Three Blind Mice. "Hey! Who let the super-jerks in?!?" hissed Melvin as he looked up, his voice an angry little boy's whine. "I said I wanted to eat without anyone bothering me! I don't wanna go to school!"

Beginner's Luck! And a bad roll. Ah well.

Sometimes, Edge hated being the loud, obvious one. But his friends needed to go about their secretive work, and that meant he had to be the one who had everyone's attention. People had to make escapes, make plans, or otherwise get in position to watch either the ballroom or Dr. Sin himself. Come on, Liberty League 2.0, he thought, naming the team they'd made without speaking, Make this count! He stepped away for a moment and returned in liederhosen and Tyrolean hat, and the accordian he'd hastily bought from the giftshop in anticipation of just such a moment. "Guten morgen, fraus and frauleins!" he boomed in terrible, American-accented German. "I have come to entertain you with a song!" And so Edge began to play, and play he did with gusto, grinning and gamboling as only a drunken American tourist could. He actually was an average musician, enough that people simply stared at him in bafflement rather than open contempt as he began singing along in awful German, looking very pleased with himself. C'mon, guys, get in position...

Those of you who made your Survival/Physical Science checks know: They're right. This is no natural storm brewing; the feel of the air was all wrong in advance, and anyway this is the wrong season for snow in the Alps. Someone put that storm here, isolating the chateau from the rest of the world just as the most important guest arrives. As for you savvy types, you're well aware of just how thick the crowd is growing, full of hard-faced men and a few women who are looking around watchfully and warily. You're going to have to take action fast if you don't want to be tailed through the entire conference.

The inside of the nanite venom gland was eerily alien, quiet and still save for the constant radio chatter in the alien tongue coming through on their various receivers. Hours seemed to tick by as they flew deep into the ducts, finally locating via Supercape's scans a microfracture in the wall where they could sink their nanite-extracting probe. They were buried beneath thousands of tons of alien metal, as far away from Earth as almost any human had ever been, and time was ticking away. Despite a moment of tension as the probe began its work, the great machine stayed silent, utterly silent, as they began gathering the nanites. It was instantly obvious that these were no Earthly machines: they awaited no instructions, they asked for no programming: instead, just visible inside their holding bottle, the nanites began to slam themselves against the wall again and again, liquid sloshing on its own as the ancient machines inside sought to spread and grow and grow. No wonder the Gorgon's worlds were converted so quickly, and no wonder they were so dangerous to visit afterwards! But in the dark solitude of the Gorgon's body, they were doing the work it would take to find countermeasures for this great and terrible device.

Combat Illusionist PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 30 pp STR 20 (+5) DEX 14 (+2) CON 20 (+5) INT 10 (+0) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 12 (+1) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +6 (+9 Melee/+15 Unarmed) DEF: +12 (+3 flat-footed) Init: +2 Grapple: +12 Saves: 15 pp TOU +8 (+5 Con, +3 Protection) FORT +7 (+5 Con, +2) REF +7 (+2 Dex, +5) WILL +10 (+2 Wis, +8) Skills: 14 pp=56 pp Bluff 14 (+15) Drive 3 (+5) Languages 4 (Arabic, Pashtun, Spanish, Vietnamese) (Base: English) Notice 8 (+10) Pilot 3 (+5) Sense Motive 13 (+15) Stealth 8 (+10) Survival 3 (+5) Feats: 16 pp Attack Focus: Melee 3 Attack Specialization: Unarmed 3, Dodge Focus 6, Evasion Second Chance (Illusion checks) Ultimate Save (Will) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 53 pp Illusion Array [44+2=46 pp] Illusion 10 (all senses) (Extra: Selective, Flaw: Phantasm, PFs: Progression 4 (100x100 ft area) AP: Concealment 10 (all senses) (Extras: Affects Others, Area [shapeable], Selective; Flaw: Phantasm) (PFs: Progession on Area 3 [10 50 ft cubes], Selective) AP: Mental Blast 10 (PFs: Incurable, Reversible, Sedation, Stunning Attack) Protection 3 [3 pp] Super-Senses 4 (Vision [Counters Concealment and Illusion]) [4 pp] costs abilities 30 + combat 24 + saves 15 + skills 14/56 + feats 14 + powers 53 = 150 pts ---------------- Design Notes: Here's a character inspired by a picture. In my mind, this character is a reluctant hero of the 1960s and 1970s [a Bronze Age attempt to attract 'hippie' readers to the world of superhero comics], a campus radical with illusion powers (perhaps gained through a youthful brush with drugs!) who chose military service over going to jail in the wake of a protest gone wrong. He found discipline and order in the service while not abandoning his ideals about fighting for a better world, and became one of the most valuable assets possessed by the United States Army: an illusionist with tremendous psychic abilities. He stayed in the service after Vietnam, serving in places like Grenada and Afghanistan, before retiring and going into business for himself as an independent super-agent. His crazy uniform is technically regulation; the idea is that he draws attention to himself while the small unit he's part of does their covert work while the guards are distracted by the laughing phantom in the day-glo purple uniform. He can also make his whole unit (and everyone around them) invisible, as well as punish individual bad guys with direct psychic attacks. Thanks to his military service, he's much buffer and more physically adept than your average psychic, though he's by no means great in hand-to-hand combat compared to actual PL 10 martial artists: he can handle himself just fine against PL 3 soldiers and such, though. He could definitely use some more combat feats like Power Attack and Takedown Attack as you accumulate more PP; right now he's pretty dependent on turning his enemies against each other (via an Illusion vs. Sense Motive check) or coming at them under cover of Concealment or Illusion. (It's been the subject of some debate whether or not Illusion can be used to provide Concealment; I've split the difference and allowed the character to do both, though not simultaneously) He works just fine as either a Bronze Age veteran or a newly active character. Maybe he decided to quit the service and become an independent hero, or maybe he's bored with his Army work and gets into superheroic shenanigans while he's home between deployments. He can make pretty big illusions; in particular, big enough ones that even if someone drops Area damage in the middle (like a missile or grenade) he has a decent chance of being somewhere where he won't take as much damage. Normally I hesitate to give Counter Concealment as a power, since it's such a big problem for the Concealment power (that a 2 PP power can get around a potentially 20 PP one without a roll), but I think it fits the concept of a character with enhanced perception and perception-influencing powers; presumably he's run into his share of enemy illusionists over the years and has learned how to counter them. He has the skills you would expect an Army grunt to have; his +6 ranged attack may seem low for a soldier, but that's still higher than the corebook soldier NPC. (Why doesn't an army-influenced hero have a gun? Well, maybe they give guns to the people who can't blow up brains on command!)

That's much more the provenance of Animate Object, not Move Object. But, consider emancipating yourself from the tyranny of power names and instead looking at descriptors. You want to animate an object to go spy on something? ESP. You want the curtains to grapple a guy? Move Object or Snare. You want to whip someone in the face with an animated shirt? Use Blast. Etc.

Animate Object (aka Summon Animated Object mechanically) can be a very annoying power to use in play, given its problem with slowing down combat and making more work for the Refs. That said, it's not a banned power: just make sure your construction uses our house rules, and avoid using it in combat. Move Object (a very different power) is much more suitable.

"Some will not. Some will never forgive," replied Murdock flatly. "And such is their right, for forgiveness cannot be coerced, or won, or bought, or earned. It must be given freely. You must help those who will accept your aid, and let those who reject you master their own destiny." He stared off into space again, as if looking at something Viktor could not see. It was unfair that Mona, with all her injured innocence, had been hurled into the heart of the Terminus itself. "Perhaps I have worn my own disguise for too long. A...friend made it for me as a way of hiding my armor." He looked at Archeville and said simply, "I am an Omegadrone."

1. Not by name; but there was a mention that others might be coming to "help with the talk". Caradoc is pretty obscure, but everyone knows the rich, famous, extra-heroic Miss Americana. 2. No, all that is new.

Cannonade is up

So many actions: Suffice it to say, Mark is down a total of 3 HP in the wake of surging and luck controlling. Donar is bruised (thanks to being demoralized) (I will give he and Midnight an HP back for Wander's punking)

Holy freaking... thought Edge as he staggered under the weight of the god's attack, his costume smoldering from the effects of a near-miss lightning strike. Blinking back shocking afterimages, he realized the grim scene: Ace and Bombshell were down, Wander was missing (had Donar really hammered her all the way across town?) and he and the others were in a bad way. And even after the fight in Switzerland, he was way out of practice when it came to super-battles. "All right, you Nazi scumbag," he spat, "I'll show you what the end of the world looks like!" Up from the depths of his reading of history and a half-remembered Neil Gaiman poem, Edge gestured wildly in the air as he summoned a black longship cast entirely out a foul substance that was on closer inspection human fingernails: working on board were the skeletal forms of undead Vikings. Hopefully Wander's not close enough to see this... "Time for the ship of nails to make a stop!" exclaimed Edge, who had no idea the boat of the dead from Ragnarok was called Naglfar. Instead, he rammed the creation into the very surprised god of thunder, the massive blow ringing off Donar's body without seeming to do any damage. Gritting his teeth so hard he nearly bled, Mark spat a foul curse and did it again, shoving around the massive construction by sheer force of will. "No! You pompous excuse for a god, you don't keep standing! Not this time! Not after what you've done!" And with that, he simply hurled the illusory ship at Donar, fragmenting it entirely to pieces along the way: this time, one of those pieces struck Donar across the face, a nail tearing at his divine skin as he struggled against his bonds. "WHAT? HOW HAVE YOU DONE THIS?" "Because I'm MAGIC!" Edge yelled back as Donar's return bolt missed his face, the god badly shaken by all the commotion.

"It's a pleasure to see you in person, Bishop," said the principal warmly, giving the man a onceover. Though he gave a particular look at Bishop's mask and eyepiece, he seemed not displeased but delighted at the technological disguise on the man's face; Caradoc got a friendly greeting in the same vein, the principal admiring his shining armor and the mighty sword slung over his back. Up close, the looming knight seemed like something out of a techno-magic utopia, all gleaming armor and magnificent blade. Werthers, like most people, particularly straight men with a pulse, lit up at the sight of Miss Americana: "Ah, wonderful, so glad you could make it!" he beamed effusively. "Yes, this will be fine. Dr. Archeville wouldn't have worked out anyway, you know, what with our current situation..." He coughed and waved for the heroes to follow him inside. "It is a pleasure to meet you!" said Caradoc, shaking Bishop's hand with a solid firmness. There was something a little off about the gleaming knight, but he came across as earnest rather than menacing. "I am sure we will be very inspiring to the children!" Murdock had never met Bishop before, but there was no reason not to be friendly to someone who looked like an all right fellow. "I am Caradoc of Camelot!" A sharp fellow like Bishop could recognize the name of one of Arthur's knights readily enough, though Caradoc generally did not have a dragon's head jetpack in the traditional stories. Inside the school, the slightly flustered principal explained, "Again, ah, my apologies for the short notice, but we needed your assistance in a hurry." He fretted his hands. "Ah, we work so hard to encourage individuality and creativity these days, but children can be so sensitive sometimes..." He shook his head. "But I'm sure you three will be very good examples for Mr. Thackery."

APPROVED

APPROVED

Go ahead and fix up his formatting so it matches that of our template. Write in his Flight speed, would you?

A very interesting concept! I like the idea a lot. Please edit the format so it matches our template; it's very distracting as it's currently written. (For example, use ()s where you're supposed to, and [] same same) Go ahead and spend your unspent points. I'm satisfied with your construction of the senses drawback on your sidekick.