Avenger Assembled

APPROVED

If you scrounge off enough points (maybe from skills), you can buy this: Strike 5 (Power Feats: Accurate 2, Mighty) (8 pp) Use the descriptor that it's striking with your uber-sharp 2-d fingers. Keep one rank of Sneak Attack and you'll be doing +8 Damage (1 Strength + 5 Strike + 2 Sneak Attack) with +6 Attack (since the two ranks of Accurate add +4 to your attack with that particular power)

Have an HP for not being able to see through the walls, durf. (And anyone else with Concealment Penetration that I am unaware of)

The other Jack's head jerked back at the blow, Atlas' punch connecting with dead skin and flesh solidly, leaving a solid crack as the bones in his neck broke. His head lolled, briefly, before he focused on Atlas and spat, "You think I haven't fought you before, Grue?" And with that, he vanished into a cloud of smoke...that promptly hit a wall at the door of Taylor's study. Pinned in the doorframe, with a face like a trapped animal, he growled, "Quite the little party, aren't you?" He looked from his own face, to Taylor's cowled countenance, to Hellion, to Atlas, to..."Oh, isn't this precious? So they let you walk around like their pet zombie, Bert?"

"Thank you!" said Fusion to Alex and Erin both, keeping the electrolyte drink in one newly-regrown tentacle while she pulled out her phone and dialed quickly with another. As it turned out, Joan being Joan, she opted to dial her boss first. "Boss, it's me. I'm OK, I'm OK, I just got a little banged up when that big shark monster hit the beach. But I got the story, and I'm going to file as soon as I talk to some of the other survivors. Really, it's fine." A little while after that, she was on the phone to her husband, and that sounded like it was going a little more awkwardly. "Well it's not my fault you had the TV on your desk on! C'mon, Charlie, it was just a really bad...really bad couple of minutes," she said, looking down at her restored arms. "Yeah, they're back, I hooked up with the kids from Young Freedom, and one of them helped me out...C'mon, honey, teen heroes are just as good as adults! You saw that clip of them fighting the Grue! These kids are all right."

The math is off in your combat section: If you've spent 16 pp on your Defense, it's not +6 flat-footed; it's +4. You really, really want to be better in combat. My advice: Sink some more points into your alternate Form and pick up a Mighty Strike.

"Where..." The other Jack growled ferally, his eyes red and fangs extended, as he looked from face to face. At the sight of his own twisted reflection, though, he sprung into action. With blinding speed and an animalistic fury much more than any of them had seen from the real Jack Faretti, his doppleganger sprang up and grabbed a fireplace poker, ramming it into Avenger's eye! Jack jerked his head back, the wound deep on his face, and growled back, "You think you can get out of this room alive?" he hissed as his comrades went into action to seal off the room. "Try it!" He wasn't that badly hurt, but the flesh by his eye had been peeled away in an unpleasant-looking way. "You think I haven't seen people try and make dimensional gateways before!? WHERE IS THIS?"

If you don't think your character has enough knowledge of superhero history to know about the Centurion's robots, roll History. Not going to worry about them too much, since they're not terribly secret.

OK: You really do need to fix your skills. For example, her Climb should be written as 3 (+4). That's because she's got 3 ranks in the skill and a +1 modifier, meaning she rolls +4 on a d20 when she's making Climb checks.

That's a reasonable costume for a low-rent superheroine. I am not sure what a 'classy bust' is, but we generally try to downplay our discussion of anatomy in the character description. Nice! I like it. You want to be careful with the personality stuff. Everyone likes reading about snarky lone wolf characters, but they can get annoying real fast in a play by post setting where everyone's working as a team. And we are all working as a team, even the solo characters. Think about ways you can have her be sociable, and make sure she's actually along well with others. I like the various complications. Looks like you've spent 14 pp here rather than 16. You can just say Initiative: +4. That is her initiative, after all. And as I'll mention later, you want to drop the Improved Disarm. It counts against PL caps, and you _really_ want to be able to meet your caps doing more than just one thing, especially with such a low-level character. Your math is off here: you need to make sure you're using your corrected ability score modifiers. Same here. Make sure you alphabetize skills, please. Yeah, you'll want to drop some of these combat feats: Improved Disarm is a waste of time. And being that reliant on Sneak Attack is going to work against you. Please bold your powers and indicate them in the same way it's done on other sheets. DC Block Sneak Attack --- 21 / Toughness --- Bruised (Staged) Unarmed --- 16 / Toughness --- Bruised (Staged) Well, let the torture compense.

All around them, Rift and the other super-sensitive students could see a frozen, desolate Arctic wasteland, a miserable hellhole of shifting ice and bare rock. They couldn't be on the pack ice itself, not with a mountain before them and an underground lair inside, but they were certainly very close. As the door swung open thanks to Phalanx's mighty grip, the teens all stepped inside the great open airlock, the doorway gaping open to reveal a spectacular foyer. The Great Hall of the Centurion's Sanctum was the size of the auditorium at Claremont Academy, full of artifacts and monuments to heroes of old and times and places long-forgotten. Guarding the doorway labeled HERO HALL stood two figures cast in bone-white marble, heroically-oversized statues of a man and woman in Romanesque dress, both of them holding in their outstretched hands the so-small rocketship that had carried the Centurion to Earth as a baby, the rocket making an arch for the teens to walk under. Down another corridor gaped what looked like some bizarre zoo, alien creatures at play visible through the glass, while down another way lay a row of statues cast in the mold of heroes past. A massive silver book lay in the corner, its man-sized solid steel pages engraved in the Centurion's own Latin. Everything from all the old stories was here. And overhead, the greatest marvel of all! "Welcome. To. The. Sanctum!" said the cunning likeness of the Centurion, the robotic replica's cape flying behind him in a heart-stopping moment of likeness with his builder and master. "I. Am. Alpha, First. Of. The. Centuritrons!"

Have an HP for being held onto, Ace. Ace is up!

Dark Star's powerful blast seemed to pull the poison right out of the angel of Freedom's body, the venom falling harmlessly to the pavement thirty feet below as it dripped from his pores. Heyzel flapped his wings, his real wings, frantically, shaking the last of it off, as he shook himself like a dog washing away filth. That was...that was awful! With the poison gone from his mind, he reassured Dr. Archeville. "I'm fine, truly I am. That was...that was a humbling experience." Under heavy attack from his bees, the Bee-Keeper, still clutching Stesha to his armored breast, said, "I'll zzzave you! We shall have our moment in the zzun together!" And with that, he turned and dived inside the ruins of Freedom Hall, his bees digging through the wall behind him in rage! Inside, Ace found a building honeycombed with, well, honeycomb, honey and wax everywhere, with the occupants occasionally visible in suspended animation inside the hexagonal cells along the walls. "Do you like it?" the awkwardly flying Beekeeper asked 'Stesha'? "I did it for you!"

Freedom Angel hmmed a moment, watching the performance, then shook his head. Leaning close to his friends Ace and Talya, he said, too quietly for anyone but them to hear, "I think they have passed the need for us at this show," he suggested. He had expected cooperation, not competition, and despite the musical talent on stage had been left disappointed with what he'd seen. "Would the two of you care to accompany me on a visit to Moksha? I have been invited as a representative of the Heavenly Host and could benefit from some mortal support. I think it might be more profitable to be there than here."

"That feels very odd..." The tentacles were sliding around the floor, whipping around Psyche and Wander, but not actually coming close. "I've had it happen before, it's OK. Getting healed up, I mean. Hey, can you fix the rest of me while you're in there?" she asked Psyche, shooting a glance her way. "I mean, patch things up so I can put the arms away if I need to." Turning to Wander, she added, "I got a really good job offer in Japan. They moved my whole family out there and paid me really good money." She winced. "But then they screwed me over and sold my name and my image, so I had to get out of there. Make sure you get good lawyers, kids."

Freedom Angel stared. Was that good? I have no idea. Nothing in that song made any sense to me, or how he sang it... Everyone around him seemed very appreciative, though, so he started applauding. It's not a falsehood to appreciate something you didn't understand, he reminded himself when he felt a pang of Heavenly guilt. Look how sweaty he is, and how hard he worked! It's not right to deny him appreciation for all his efforts, even if I didn't understand the music he was playing. That's why I'm on this plane, so I can learn the ways of humanity even as I teach them the ways of Heaven. I can appreciate the performance, even if I didn't understand what he was performing. "Encore!"

"Do you have a phone?" Fusion repeated, growing more worried even as her limbs started to grow back. "I really need to call my husband." She took a breath, her chest rising and falling slowly, deliberately. "If he was watching on the news, he's going to be freaking out about now. My daughter too. She's nine, but they've got older kids in her summer program so the teachers might not think to turn the TV off...and my boss is probably wondering where I went when I took that trip to the beach..." She looked over as her arms began growing back, sinously weaving tentacles sprouting from where Psyche was working. "All the years I wanted those gone, and I thought I'd die when I saw what he'd done."

That'll do the trick!

"Macek Island, it's...crap, I can't remember the GPS coordinates." She rolled over, staring at the place where her limbs had been torn away. "It's five hundred miles southeast of Osaka, in the eastern Philippine Sea. Big place, they built it out of a Lor starship that crashed there about twenty years ago. Half-mile high, you can't miss it. Why, can you fly? Always wanted to fly...can't pull off more than gliding..." She shook her head, looking around as the crowd began to gather and cameras began to flash. "Guess I can't do that anymore...never realized how bright those were..."

"Nice to meetcha. I met your friend the other day, you kids are all right." She reached up with her right hand, then looked down at her missing arms. "He took my arms. I can't believe he took my arms...the only guy I know who can make arms grow back is in the Pacific Rim," she said, her voice blurry from blood loss, "Oh God, I'm gonna have to get metal arms put in! And I lost my phone! I need to call my husband...and my boss! Charlie's gonna see me on the TV and get worried..."

"Let's start with me," Jack suggested. "Any version of Taylor is likely to be much smarter than me," he admitted, "and that makes her potentially more dangerous. And like you said, I'm distracted." When the view moved back to the other Jack and other Moira, they were evidently finished with their business. The other Moira was proudly studying a set of bite marks along her bare flank, while Jack was in the other room on the telephone: notably on the copper-wired landline. Somewhere, a woman screamed. Moira yelled "Keep it down!", half-interrupting Jack. "Well they'd better keep them locked down if they don't want a frenzy outside their front door," he was saying firmly. "Send the witch to Taylor. Maybe she can figure out how they got the door open. If some of the stronger ones go to Melinda and the games, she won't think twice about where the weaker ones went. I'll be there soon as I can. I owe you one, Hunter."

It's a DC 25 Notice check to spot the lock; characters who can see through Obscure succeed automatically. It's a DC 30 Strength check to turn the lock. I need a DC 20 Earth Sciences or DC 20 Survival check from people who can make that check. It's very cold, but I'm assuming we'll all get out BEFORE we need to make the checks vs. cold. ;)

Eventually, with help from Phalanx, Edge pulled out the teleporter they'd be using to get up to the Sanctum. The big metal rod looked bulky and retro at first glance, but on closer inspection of the areas worn smooth by time, the teens realized that it really was just this old. Mark's father had inherited the teleporter from its original owner, and who knew how long the Centurion had used it, or when he had acquired it during his decades-long career? "Just think," Mark murmured in awe as he put it in the middle of the room. "The Centurion touched this." In costume and in a heavy fur parka himself, one cut to match the bright blue and yellow colors of his costume, Mark said, "OK, now everybody hang on to this..." When everyone had their hands on the teleporter, Mark said out loud, "Amundsen!" A moment later, the world darkened, as if getting ready for a really big sneeze, and suddenly the teens were elsewhere! Mark had cause to briefly regret not checking ahead for a weather report as the Arctic wind howled all around them in a raging storm! The teens could just make out the shape of a mountain before them, but all around was blowing ice and snow and howling winds, everything else dark. "Craap!" Mark called. "I can't see the keyhole! Somebody feel around for it!" he called over the blinding wind, digging in his feet to keep his footing. "Or look for it, or whatever!" Those students able to peer through the howling blizzard were able to see the big keyhole just a little above the arm's reach of a normal person, looking exactly like part of a regular lock. "You don't need to put in a key, just stick your hand in and turn it!"

A thought to chew on: Why is QQ worried that his superhero career would mean the end of his academic career? It ain't the Marvel Universe, Freedom City likes its heroes. Does he have a jerk dean? Or is that just his insecurities playing out? In the meantime, APPROVED

You need to bring the sheet in line with the template. Look at other, completed sheets if it's a problem. (i.e.; you need to bold powers, alphabetize and bold skills, and the like.) Use correct names for powers and extras: Impervious is the name of an extra on Create Object, not 'Custom'. I'm leery of new characters coming in with Perception-range super-maxed out I blow you up powers. Think about giving him actual combat feats, so he can do more than whiff against any character with a decent Toughness and Evasion. The background is good stuff. Thumbs up for Jeremy Bentham and his severed mummy head. But isn't utilitarianism (I am not the philosophy major in my family) also a very Iron Age philosophy? (i.e; saving the many over the one does mean you might blow up the supervillain when no one's looking. Or hostage situations.) Is his loud skepticism going to be a problem given the large numbers of divinely-influenced characters we have running around?