Avenger Assembled

Down below, Harrier watched them both, his eyes wide. It took him a few moments to make the connections about what he was seeing, putting them all in the context of his primary exposure to human relationships: soap operas. Ah, they must be lovers! Disunited ones, perhaps, torn apart by fate and circumstance but now united. He'd seen entertainments like that back in the Terminus, but they generally ended with man and woman understanding that _real_ love was only for Omega. He preferred the Earth-Prime versions, really, with true love and happiness for all. But always secrets. Is one of them a clone, or a long-lost twin? Or a robot?! Is one of them pregnant, perhaps with an alien baby? It was tough to discern Dark Star's gender from this far down, and he wasn't immediately familiar with this dimension's progress in artificial womb construction. Hmm, or perhaps Fleur de Joie is her own twin sister who has replaced herself and plans to seduce Dark Star and be his mate! He sighed. Perhaps he'd been watching too many soap operas. As it was, he decided to simply keep watching.

OK, it's a 25 now

"Your power is beautiful," replied Murdock, bending down to lightly brush his fingers against the plants. "I have seen so many green things burn, that to see a place like this, and to see that there is someone who cares for it..." He shook his head. "One day when I have the money for the bus, I will go to the great parks in the western part of this continent. I have been saving what I make, that I do not need to spend to maintain my life. If I fly there now, I will encounter military aircraft who will not bother to call the Freedom League." He didn't sound at all judgmental about that.

Harrier readies an action, namely to blast Vanquisher if he gets close enough to do so. 19, not great, but it'll hit him when he attacks. That'll be a DC 27 Tou for non-lethal (as is the default from now on) when that happens.

"He is formidable." replied Harrier, snapping his pike out to its full extension as electricity crackled along the tip. They were thousands of feet above the city, a reassuring thing when battling such a powerful foe. Harrier wasn't the sort to feel outclassed when dealing with a threat like this; as he watched Victory punch the monster at least two miles away, he was just glad to have him there. "He shares your vulnerability to electricity and magnetism. I had hoped to lure him into the electrical substation in Lincoln. He knew what I was before I changed, Victory."

Mark emerged from his shower with a black towel wrapped around his midsection, hanging things over to Mike before he changed himself in front of the room's big mirror. First he pulled his costume back on, the molecular fabric shrugging off wrinkles and dirt, neatly brushing his short brown hair flat. "Look at you!" he said, snapping his cape a little. "Mark Lucas, aka Edge, leader of Young Freedom! Not a care in the world!" He dug around in his suitcase for the last ingredient of his formal wear, found his dad's red bowtie, and neatly tied it around his neck. "Ta-da! Now that's style! I'll be out in the hall!" he called to Mike as he strode out of the room. "I'll catch everyone."

Copycat PL 10 (150 pp) Abilities: 22 pp STR 30 (+10) DEX 14 (+2) CON n/a (-) INT 14 (+2) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +6 (+10 Unarmed) DEF: +10 (+3 flat-footed) Init: +2 Grapple: +16 Saves: 7 pp TOU +10 (+10 Protection) FORT +n/a REF +5 (+2 Dex, +3) WILL +6 (+2 Wis, +4) Skills: 13 pp=52 r Craft: Mechanical 4 (+6) Intimidate 12 (+12) Investigate 4 (+6) Knowledge: History 4 (+6) Knowledge: Streetwise 4 (+6) Knowledge: Technology 8 (+10) Notice 8 (+10) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Feats: 9 pp Attack Specialization: Unarmed 2, Dodge Focus 4, Startle, Takedown Attack, Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 75 pp Concealment 4 (all visual) (Flaw: Blending) (PF: Close Range) [5 pp] 'stealth mode' Immunity 40 (Fortitude saves, Mental effects) [40 pp] 'is a robot' Leaping 1 (x2) [1 pp] 'robotic muscles' Protection 10 (Extra: Impervious) [20 pp] 'armor-plating' Regeneration 5 (+0 Recovery Bonus) (PF: Regrowth) [6 pp] 'smart metal body' Speed 1 (10 MPH) [1 pp] 'robotic servos' Super-Senses 2 (Darkvision) [2 pp] 'sensors' costs abilities 22 + combat 24 + saves 7 + skills 13/52 + feats 9 + powers 75 = 150 pts --- Design Notes: He awoke in a case, snapping his bonds free with ease even as he did his best to recall what had happened and how he'd gotten there. He'd been on patrol one day when there'd been a light in the sky and he'd recognized the Curator's ship. And then...was he in captivity? His utility harness was gone, but his captors had left him his costume and his wits. He wrapped his cape around his fist and punched through the glass surrounding him, stepping out into a strange gloom he recognized as his own headquarters but terribly changed! There were cobwebs everywhere, and dust, and a feel of long, long time having passed. When he tried to leave, the door had been nailed shut on the other side, and he heard strange voices through the wood. Retracing his steps to look for a weapon, or perhaps his long-neglected car, he found himself back at the place where he'd started. A glass case, and underneath a brass plaque: CURATOR'S ROBOT DOUBLE: JUNE 1 1970. His blood ran cold. Or rather, it would have if he'd had any blood to spill. This character is a duplicate of a hero from a previous generation, a robot double originally built to infiltrate the heroes of Earth. But he was defeated all those years ago, his memory wiped, and put in the display case of a hero who's gone now. Did that hero die in action, retire and move down to Florida, pass away from too many cakes? Either way, he's gone now, and this robot double with reflections of his memories is the only version of him that's left. His old friends may accept him for what he is, or they may shun the once-enemy robot bearing the face of their absent friend. Either way, he is a true hero...even if sometimes he may not feel true at all. This is a grey-area character, a good way to bring a PC from a previous generation into a current campaign while giving them a whole host of Complications on the way. Being a HARDAC fan, I went with the assumption that this is the robot double of a costumed adventurer, but you can tweak that however you want. He doesn't have to be a project of the Curator's, either: I went that way to better tie him into the Freedom City setting. But he could be made by Talos, the Labyrinth, ro really anyone else that comes to mind. I gave him Concealment and Speed/Leaping as substitutes for Stealth and movement equipment, mix that up however you want to. If you squeeze points around (maybe by dropping his monstrous Impervious some), you can afford to actually buy the old house where he lives: the assumption I have is that the equipment in his old cave is too old and broken down for him to use right now. And he doesn't really need his old heromobile these days...

The armor retracted all the way as soon she'd released him, his pike collapsing down to something the size of a flashlight that he hung from his belt. Harrier shook his head. "You did what you should when you see an Omegadrone. You made no mistake. The fault was mine. I should have been more careful. Usually I walk where I go. I shall attempt to do so in the future." He sighed softly, looking around the forest, seemingly unafraid of the suspicious trees around him. "This is a beautiful park. I come here in the day to meditate, but rarely at night. To see so much...alive is remarkable. Is this place yours?"

"My name is Harrier," the drone explained in his usual plodding way. "In honor of Harriet Tubman, the great fighter for liberty. I would have called myself that, but Johnny Rocket persuaded me that it would be too complex if I used a female name, as I am male." His armor suddenly retreated back into his face, sliding away underneath neatly folding skin, leaving Stesha looking at a bald, brown-skinned man with a face and head covered in faint lines that looked like tribal tattoos: the places where the armor had slid back through his skin. "I live in Lincoln now. My name is Stephen Murdock."

Harrier felt the vines around his head loosen a little, enough for him to hear the woman's words through the rustling of leaves all around him. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I only wore the armor to fly here, and so I could see in the dark. Normally it is only for emergencies." He hesitated a moment, trying somewhat awkwardly to think of the next thing to say. "I am largely what I appear to be. But I am a a free man."

Green exploded everywhere around Harrier, far too fast for him to react, ensnaring him in an inescapable trap! His hand had convulsed tight around his pike as the plants and trees had erupted from his feet and all around him, and he was just about to try to blast his way out when he mastered his fear. The forces of the Terminus did not use living things as their weapons! But that did not make this any less a serious matter: there were threats on this world aplenty...some of whom, many of whom, even, would have attacked him with the best of intentions. Through the all-encompassing plants, he called, his voice still flat and measured, simply louder: "Are you capable of understanding my communication?"

In the darker part of the forest, with just the moonlight and streetlights coming through the trees, Stesha finally caught a glimpse of the intruder. Like any schoolchild, she recognized an Omegadrone right away! She had particular reason to recognize those, in fact, after her months-ago, deeply unpleasant encounter with Jack. The drone bent down, its mechanical movements stiff and clunky, spiked fingers reaching for an innocent flower still clinging to life even in the cool of the shade here, looking ready to crush the life out of that soft, fragile blossom. The flower was beautiful. Harrier normally didn't travel in armor, of course, but he was experimenting with aerial patrols, the camouflage unit in his extended pike having let him take to the sky invisibly. But he'd tired of that duty, the monotonous routine of back and forth patrols all-too-familiar, and so he'd landed to take a moment of humanity here in this lovely park. To think, a city where life was allowed to grow freely! "So beautiful," he murmured to the flower, "but so fragile..."

Fleur was just thinking about moving along when she heard a noise from the sky: the screaming of jets, loud and low! But when she looked up, she saw no figure in the sky overhead: perhaps just a faint flicker of movement against the night sky. The jets sounded like they were heading for the densest part of the park's trees: junkies and dealers sometimes hung out there, but they had mostly moved out of this area by this time of year: it got cold at night! As the noise of the jets faded away, she caught a distinct metallic glint as a metal-clad figure disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

With the King's approval, they were all escorted upstairs through palatial hallways covered with traditional Dakanan flowing sculptures, each carved right into the living rock of the palace itself, showing scenes of White Lions past and their contributions to Dakanan and world civilization. The dark marble glittered with color, tiny fragments of daka crystals reflecting the light in the stone like jewels. Mark ebulliently translated the markings as they went, making sure everyone knew how awesome they were. "Ooh, there's the king's grandfather punching Herman Goering right in the stomach! And there's the White Lion of 1885 fighting alongside Adam Prophet against the first Gigantosaur! Oh man, that must have been some times. And there's..." Mark fell dead silent at a particularly large sculpture, taking up most of one over-sized wall, that was clearly of the Silver Age Freedom League, Rick Lucas prominent in the rear as he cheered the League on against a grim-looking figure in armor. "The Freedom League," he finally said. And soon they were all in rooms that matched in assignment, if not layout, their rooms back at Claremont, each one as luxurious as any 4-star hotel room back in Freedom City, with a small suite, baths, and anything else they could ask for: the uniformed servants in the hallway stood ready to provide that. The rooms were in a fusion of Western and Dakanan style, perhaps for the benefit of guests from out of the country, with big-screen TVs sharing space with free-standing sculptures that watched the kids with big eyes and open mouths. Mark won the coin toss with Mike, naturally, and took the opportunity to grab a quick shower.

To Corbin's surprise, he missed Mark entirely! In fact, he smacked his own paper cup of Coke, sending it cascading all over the floor. "Oops!" Mark got down on the floor quickly to help clean up, grabbing a few paper napkins to help, and then getting up to get Corbin a to-go cup. "I think we'd better get going," he offered when they were done, leading the way out the door. "As for your question, I've, uh, worked with some heroes who get their powers from Middle Eastern magic. You're really better off rising above that kind of thing, I think. What matters is who you are, not where your powers happened to come from."

Despite everyone's worries, and recovery from inebriation, the reception turned out to be easy enough. The team exited the plane to the bright light of a Dakanan morning, a big crowd of visitors and dignitaries there to greet them. But all that turned out to be something of a formality; there was much handshaking, much bowing, and a formal greeting in Dakanan that Mark rattled off from childhood memories, but after that they were hustled into limousines bearing the White Lion's seal along with some of the Dakanan leadership they'd just met. Mark found himself sitting next to a very attractive Dakanan woman from the Agriculture Council inside their crowded limo, with whom he engaged in a whispered conversation the whole way there. After a short drive, the palace loomed out at them: the palace of the White Lion was not built in Dakana City, that shining, modern metropolis that looked as fresh and clean as Freedom City itself, rather, it was built into the living rock of Kilimanjaro itself! Their cars headed for the 'mouth' of the lion carved into the mountainside, which turned out to be the heart of the palace, a magnificent building that looked vaguely Romanesque in style. "Come," said the king, leading the way as they headed up shining marble stairs, Mark taking pictures all the way, "You have a little time to dress and rest before the grand reception!" He turned, a worried look visible beneath his masked face. "You can dance, yes? Duncan Summers is a classy gentleman, I assumed it was part of all your education..."

Beast Genius PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 50 pp STR 30 (+10) DEX 20 (+5) CON 24 (+7) INT 22 (+6) WIS 16 (+3) CHA 10 (+0) Combat: 28 pp ATK: +6 w/Growth (+10 Melee) DEF: 10 (+3 flat-footed w/Growth) Init: +5 Grapple: +24 Saves: 9 pp TOU +10 (+7 Con, +3 Protection) FORT +10 (+7 Con, +3) REF +7 (+5 Dex, +2) WILL +7 (+3 Wis, +4) Skills: 22 pp=88 r Climb 5 (+11) Craft: Chemical 6 (+12) Craft: Electronic 6 (+12) Craft: Mechanical 6 (+12) Intimidate 10 (+10/+14) Knowledge: Life Sciences 8 (+14) Knowledge: Physical Sciences 8 (+14) Knowledge: Technology 8 (+14) Languages 4 (Chinese, English, German, Russian) Notice 12 (+15) Sense Motive 7 (+10) Swim 4 (+10) Survival 4 (+7) Feats: 20 pp All-Out Attack Attack Focus: Melee (4) Benefit (Security Clearance) Dodge Focus (4) Challenge 2 (Acclerated Climb, Fast Startle) Inventor Luck Master Plan Move-By Action Power Attack Startle Takedown Attack Uncanny Dodge (olfactory) Powers: 21 pp Growth 4 (Extra: Duration [Permanent] (+0) ) (PF: Innate) [13 pp] Protection 3 [3 pp] Speed 1 (10 MPH) [1 pp] Super-Senses 4 (Acute Scent, Low-Light Vision, Tracking 2) [4 pp] costs abilities 50 + combat 28 + saves 9 + skills 22/88 + feats 20 + powers 21 = 150 pts --- Design Notes: Inspired by Ecal’s Animal Scientist build, as well as my own love of Soviet kitsch, here is Comrade Bear, perhaps the greatest scientist of the Soviet Union’s super-program. (He’s pictured during his first meeting with his Western rival, Bee-Keeper I.) You wouldn’t know his genius to look at him, though: after the accident with the thought-transferal machine, now he’s their muscle and ‘power forward’, a monster capable of ripping his way through a crowd of enemies, shrugging off all but the most powerful bullets, and then climbing a tree and getting at that delicious honey inside. He can also track people right through the Siberian wilderness that was once his body's home. American superheroes look at him and see a ferocious Communist monster, as well they might! And maybe they’re right. That’s up to you as his player, certainly. Is he a brutal scientist now with the physical power to crush and destroy where once he merely plotted and schemed? Or is he like the usual ‘truth’ about this kind of character; a gentle, sensitive soul now trapped in a body that makes even his own allies uneasy, a gentle man in a monster’s flesh. Is he a grim Iron Age killing machine, a Silver Age comedic villain, or a thoughtful Bronze Age fellow, a man with the heart of a hero and the body of a monster? It’s up to you, whether you’re playing him as a PC or as a rival to Western heroes in a pre-1991 game. Or maybe he’s a Cold War-era defector! In combat, roar (Startle as a Move Action), then charge into action, wrecking the joint and tearing through goons like they're not there. Ecal’s got the best notes for customizing this sort of archetype. If you keep the Soviet background, make sure to give his inventions a sort of Zeerust chic to reflect where he got his education. Make him another big, ferocious animal if you want another kind of big, ferocious archetype, natch. In his own setting his security clearance gets him past most obstacles, but since you’ll be playing him most likely in a post Cold War setting in America, the fact that he is a gigantic Communist bear will probably prove a significant complication for him in play.

Harrier led Wander up a long, long elevator shaft, pointing out point defenses and perimeter defenses, blasting away a descending car without breaking 'stride' in the sky. When they'd gone perhaps a quarter mile, Harrier finally led them to a small ledge before a set of sliding doors. "This is his private laboratory, where he carries out his personal research. Several hundred Nurses, electronic and biological defenses, but focused inwards rather than outwards." He laid his blank face against the metal with a slight thunk. "Do not allow him to touch you. His body is infected with nanites that he uses to subdue his patients."

Shadow-Man PL: 10 (150) Abilities: 20 pp STR 10 (+0) DEX 10 (+0) CON 16 (+3) INT 10 (+0) WIS 18 (+4) CHA 14 (+2) Combat: 24 pp ATK: +6 (+12 Ranged) DEF: +12 (+3 flat-footed) Init: +4 Grapple: +7/+20 Saves: 15 pp TOU +8 (+3 Con, +5 Protection) FORT +6 (+3 Con, +3) REF +8 (+0 Dex, +8) WILL +8 (+4 Will, +4) Skills: 15 pp=60 r Bluff 12 (+14) Intimidate 8 (+10) Knowledge: Arcane Lore 8 (+8) Knowledge: History 4 (+4) Languages 4 (Chinese, English, French, German) Notice 8 (+12) Sense Motive 4 (+8) Stealth 12 (+15) Feats: 22 pp Attack Focus: Ranged (6) Beginner’s Luck Challenge 2 (Fast Startle, Fast Taunt) Connected Improved Initiative Hide In Plain Sight Luck Move-By Action Power Attack Precise Shot Ritualist Skill Mastery (Bluff, Intimidate, Notice, Stealth) Startle Taunt Ultimate Skill (Bluff) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 50 pp Darkness Array [24+3=27 pp] Darkness Control 8 (1000 ft) (Extras: Independent, Selective) AP: Create Object 10 (PFs: Precise, Progression 2 (10 25 ft cubes, Stationary) AP: Telekinesis 8 (Extra: Damaging) (Heavy Load: 3 tons) {24} AP: Teleport 8 (250 ft/2500 miles) (Extra: Accurate) {24} Flight 2 (25 MPH) (PF: Subtle) [5 pp] Immortality [5 pp] Protection 5 [5 pp] Shield 6 [6 pp] Super-Senses 2 (Darkvision) [2 pp] costs abilities 20 + combat 24 + saves 15 + skills 15/60 + feats 22 + powers 50 = 150 pts --- Design Notes: You’ve been messing with the Shadow Man!?! Despite the picture, this is actually closer to a Year One Richard Swift than Dr. Facilier. Still, I think I’ve captured a PC that could stand in for both versions of the character in a pinch. This guy is a master shadow manipulator, capable of making solid objects out of shadow, deflecting bullets fired his way, teleporting his way across the continent by shadows, or tearing his enemies apart or tossing them around by summoning shadow-monsters (as a description for his TK). He can also drop a massive shadow blanket over a very wide area: 1000 ft radius may not sound like much until you think about how big buildings are even in major metropolitan areas. With Independent, that Darkness stays up, too, though it shrinks continuously till it goes away: luckily, he and his allies can see right through it the whole time. What’s his background? Is he a former villain turned reluctant hero? An immortal Englishman, or Creole sorcerer, adapting as best he can to a rapidly changing world that may be leaving him behind? Or is he simply an elegant fellow who likes to do his superheroing work in top hat and tails? An obvious origin in Freedom City would give him a connection to Der Schattenwelt, the shadow dimension first discovered by Nazi magicians. Maybe he got the power but didn’t go mad like his contemporary Nacht-Krieger? You can drop the Immortality if you just want him to have more of a retro feel to him, but I think characters like this are more fun if they actually remember the good old days. Mix him up however you want: less power, but more skills? A worse fighter? Maybe with more Arcane Lore to fuel that Ritualist? (Assume he stunted something off his Darkness array to Summon minions if you want to give him Shadowy goods.) Concealment is a natural for this kind of character, maybe limited to shadow. You can give him more points by limiting his Teleport; I chose to make shadow-step a complication rather than a flaw or drawback. After all, there are so many shadows out there. With ESP in his array, maybe he can watch you through them. A natural antagonist is my Frog Totem build on the other page, of course.

"It's better to wear your uniforms," explained the king. "Better for your secret identities, of course, and also better for the meaning of the ceremony. You will be greeted today as warriors for justice and champions of noble causes. Some of you," he said with a nod to Alex, "do so even without your costumes, but the meaning of the ceremony will be better if you are all dressed the way Mr. Lucas is." He winced as Mark put on the cape. "Well, you get my meaning. Are there any other questions? There is still some time before we arrive, but I wanted to make sure you were all prepared in advance."

"If your world has not yet been pulled into the Terminus, either into the Doom Coil or simply into the Ravel, then traveling from there would be another level of protection," the drone agreed. At her look, he explained, "When a universe dies, pieces of it may yet survive, scattered through the Terminus." He took his pike and drove it into the wall as he talked, the blade striking the door latch and blasting open the elevator. "The survivors...live better than those who live on Nihilor." Inside the shaft, his jets roared to life, and he offered her his hand. "Flight is faster than climbing, if you cannot leap so far."

From down below, as his sight slowly returned, Harrier shook his head with a slow, mechanical sound. You are mistaken about me. He thought as he heard the distant, filtered voice of the taunting monster come through the rocks he'd surrounded himself with. My life is nothing. But to spare the people of this city from you and your master, there is nothing I would not do. No sacrifice I would not make, of my dignity or otherwise. And with that, he rocketed out of the ground, striking aside a manhole cover as he roared right past Vanquisher overhead. "Follow if you dare!" he taunted, remembering watching Jack of all Blades fight. If I anger him enough, perhaps he will do something foolish like follow me!

32 Passed! Full-Round Action: Harrier makes an all-out move, flying 2000 feet up. That way, they're away from civilians.

"I can't stay long," said Jimmy apologetically. "I'm not even supposed to be here today what with President Roosevelt keeping the League on the homefront, but..." He scratched the back of his head, then took out his cigarette holder to gesture all around them. "But aw geez fellas, there's a war on! When I saw this come up on Freedom Eagle's Super-Scope, I just had to get me and the genie out here as soon as we could!" Jimmy was mostly talking to Legionnaire, giving Cannonade a chance to overhear the whispered conversation between Mark and the genie. "How did you get to this time?" the genie was asking. "Mark, this isn't-" "Don't call me that," Mark whispered back, obviously holding back an unexpected anger. "Look, if you can send us where we belong, do it, but," and he added the last in a low hiss. "My grandfather is right over there!" And with that, he went over to introduce himself to Jimmy Lucas. "Mr...Mr. Lucas? It's a pleasure, sir." Mark shook his hand. "I've always been an admirer of your work. My...my father used to tell me all about you. My name is Mark, but I go by Lucky Strike here." "Well geez, I hope I'm not that old, hahaha!" Jimmy laughed and clapped the boy on the back. "Nice to meet you, Lucky Strike." Leaning close, he whispered, "You really shouldn't say your name in costume, kid! The Ratzis might track your family down." "That's okay. They can take care of themselves." Mark smiled.

Joan watched the fireworks and applauded along with everyone else, thoroughly impressed at the show. "That's beautiful!" she called up to the sky, awed by Victory's colorful display. She could appreciate Victory as both a representative of the military-industrial complex and an artist. It must be tough balancing the two, she thought. He seems like a rare man. She took out her digital camera and took a few pictures, commenting to her neighbor about how talented Victory's display was.