Avenger Assembled

Scarab just saved you all from Mental Blast 14. Buy Elena a drink, wouldja? :D

"FEAR NOT, HERU-RA. YOUR MANIFOLD SOUL SHALL KNOW MY SWEET EMBRACE. AS WILL YOU ALL." The swarm of black flies overhead swept down over the room, touching everyone there in a sickly-sweet embrace that mocked all life and goodness before coalescing around the Necro-King. "I WILL RETURN." The swarm of flies that was the petty god of necromancy swept through the gateway to the Hungry Hells, the doorway to one of the darkest corners of the Cosmic Coil neatly sealing up behind him. The assembled heroes were left alone with the room full of ashes, blood, and death, the dead body of Rochembeau and the battered, filthy, unconscious Sister Sixtus. And the sound of sirens.

The arrow struck the Elder in the chest as he pushed past Avenger, burying itself in his chest and emerging from his back. "Hah! You think you can-" The arrow detonated with a roar, blasting a hole the size of a man's head in the master vampire's chest. Avenger threw up his hands and staggered backwards as flaming ash bounced off his mask, the Elder collapsing to the ground an instant later, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Have an HP for being there for your teammate and having part of your strategy not work, Dark Star. :D

"FEH!" The Necro-King hurled Hellbound aside even as his body transformed into cosmic energy, a look of boiling fury on the undead demon-lord's face. The cloud of monstrous ghoul-flies above his head grew larger and thicker, the buzzing noise beginning to set everyone's nerves on edge. With a gesture from the petty god of necromantic magic, the staff sprung from Hellbound's grip and into the skeletal paw of the abomination of anti-life that was the Necro-King. With he touched the staff, the flies above began to buzz really loudly, their eyes glowing with a malignant feral intelligence. "HERU-RA. ABOMINATION." The Necro-King pointed the staff at the Scarab. "YOUR MANIFOLD SOUL IS NOT MINE. BUT WHY SHOULD I NOT PULL THEIR SOULS WITH ME?" - The Elder vaulted out of the field of gravity that surrounded him, impossible speed and quickness propelling him far faster than any mortal man could. With a look of naked contempt on his face, the Elder swung his sword at Avenger. The blade struck home, slicing deep into Avenger's flank, bringing forth a cry of pain from the vigilante's throat at the wound. "ARROWHAWK! SILVER! MAGIC! HOLY! NOW!" Trusting that the archer could do the deed, Avenger stumbled backwards, hand against the eerily bloodless wound at his side.

OK, that is an Aid Another (Defense) that gives +2 to Arrowhawk's Defense vs. the Elder. And a surge (via HP) that hits and hurts him! Except now he's fighting me. Hmmm. :shock:

The Necro-King was just about to reply to the Scarab when suddenly the empowered Wesley Knight and awe-inspiring Divine closed in on him! He dodged Wesley's strike with contemptuous ease, but had considerably more difficulty with Divine's blow. He grappled with her with one clawed, warped hand, his other busy with Hellbound's face, and ultimately proved strong enough to hurl her away with a single blow! "PETTY GODLING AND PRIEST OF FOUL LIFE! YOU DEFILE THIS SANCTUARY WITH YOUR PRESENCE!" As he spoke, a cloud of black flies began to form above his head, a swirling swarm of blood-sucking insects that were each and every one of them dead, yet at the same time horribly, vitally alive. - Avenger stared at the gates of Hell as they pulled the demonic skin from Belphegor's body, pulling away flesh and scales and skin until they revealed the man underneath. He listened to Terhune's pleas, saw the fear on his face, and knew the truth as if it had come from his own mouth. "Liar." A demon is a demon. He felt a moment of triumph at overcoming the demon's deception, one that was suddenly replaced by a crushing sensation of horror. A demon was a demon. A monster was a monster. Shaking aside his guilt as best he could, the stealthy Avenger slipped between Arrowhawk and the Elder, avoiding Arrowhawk's line of fire while throwing the swordsman away from his attack on the archer. He followed it up a moment later with a direct attack on Lugat himself, thinking wildly all the while about the ridiculous power of the elder vampire, the sheer monstrous skill and will of the undead fiend. He hit the Elder too, slamming his fist right into the much older vampire's face. Good thing I'm not in this alone! And a good thing, too, because now the blood of an elder was in the air, and Lugat was definitely not focused on Arrowhawk anymore..."

Have another HP, Moira!

Take a Villain Point to the Hungry Hells with you, D-A. You'll need it where you're going. :twisted: And Scarab, have a Hero Point for standing up to the undead god-king with sweet reason.

And Avenger gets an HP. :D

No escape for you, Scarab. 'Syour turn. ;)

I need a DC 25 TOU save from Hellbound, who deserves a Hero Point for the Necro-King shaking off his stun. (You couldn't beat his Grapple check even on a nat 20.) No Will save for the staff messing with you; it's just...creepy. I should add at this juncture that Lugat is the Red King. The Necro-King is just a strange visitor from a horrible, horrible place. Scarab, I believe you're up.

It all seemed to happen so fast. First Lugat leapt at the Scarab, his blade glancing off Heru-Ra's force field as the power of light itself repelled the blade wielded by the dark warrior. An instant later, Arrowhawk's rapid stream of arrows struck the fast-moving Lugat and ricocheted off the vampiric swordsman's skin. "I TASTED YOUR BLOOD ONCE! I CAN DO IT AGAIN!" Lugat roared at Arrowhawk, turning to face the Scottish archer. And Hellbound, meanwhile, picked up the staff. The voices came a moment later. OREN. DESTROY ALL THAT IS BEAUTIFUL. DEVOUR THEIR FLESH. TAKE IT FOR YOUR OWN. EMBRACE ANTILIFE. THERE IS NO LAW BUT YOURS. OREN IS. He swung the staff despite the pressure of voices in his head, the blow hard enough to strike the Necro-King right in the face! The demon-lord staggered but did not fall, fixing his eyes on Hellbound's with a look of unspeakable disgust. "YOU WISH TO GRAPPLE WITH ME? COME, AND KNOW ME BETTER, MAN!" He reached out and grabbed Hellbound by the arm hard enough to break skin and tear flesh, ghoulish insects crawling from his bones and over O'Ren's face as he proceeded to begin dragging Hellbound back into the very depths of the Hungry Hells!

OK, I took the liberty of acting for Dark Star. Scarab, that's a DC 26 Toughness save vs. lethal damage. (Don't forget that you are Bruised) Have an HP while you're at it! The target number to hit the Elder is currently 27, given his recent use of a full-on -5 Defensive Attack. Good thing some of you have Area attacks. Hellbound, you're up, then Arrowhawk.

The ever-lovin' Dark Star fired a beam of cosmic energy at the injured Arrowhawk, repairing the injured archer in a nimbus of pure light nearly blotted out by the celestial glow of the Scarab's empowered ka. Across the room, the Necro-King observed Avenger hurling Belphegor into the maw of the Hungry Hells with interest, seeming satisfied at the answer given him by the dark champion. "YOUR SACRIFICE IS ACCEPTED, MY SON. GO IN PEACE." The words of benediction from the dark undead fiend seemed to fill Avenger with nothing but horror, the hockey-masked vigilante backing up quickly when that horrible eye fell upon him. For the Necro-King's part, he turned and began heading back towards the opening. "NO! I won't be cheated so easily!" Across the room, Lugat staggered back as Scarab's awesome power nearly blinded him, recovering himself with a Herculean effort. "I will feast on your blood! All of you!" Spurning the fallen staff as unworthy of a champion of darkness, he held his sword high and leapt into the air straight at the source of his pain. He swung his sword in a devastating arc, the mystic blade glimmering as it cut straight through Scarab's force field!

Wesley felt a surge of hate ripple through him, a murderous loathing of his fellow heroes and everything they stood for. But he rallied as he stood there, remembering his own heroic deeds and the legacy of justice and honor that he stood for. He was poor, but he was rich in friends; he was black among white heroes, but what color was justice? He shook off the demonic intrusion into his mind, rallying behind what it meant to be a hero. A knight. - Moira's fist slammed into Sister Sixtus' chest, the mad cultist's eyes widening as ribs broke beneath Moira's awesome punch. With one last muttered obscenity and a final flare from the staff, the mad cultist slipped into unconsciousness. The staff fell out of her hand at that, rolling a few feet away as the black blade set at its head glimmered wickedly. - The sight of Hell and a monstrous demon-king struck fear into Jack's heart that he hadn't felt since the moment of his death. The sight of Hell; the sight of the fate of all damned souls, struck a chord deep into his undead heart. This is where you're going. This is where you belong! "No. No more. NO MORE!" He dropped Avenger's voice as he strode straight for the demon, fury boiling through his slow, cold blood like poison. "Demon!" He grabbed Belphegor by the neck, one-handed, hard enough to pop the skin underneath. "You want evil? I hope you choke on it!" And with that, Avenger threw Belphegor through the doorway into Hell.

Oh, and that's an HP for Wesley. He's had a hard time with the dice!

Sixtus is nauseated and fatigued. Belphegor, you're up. (You know OF this guy, but his friends and your friends don't exactly mingle. Undead demons and the hells where they live aren't popular with their fellow entities.)

The magnificent light radiating from Scarab's pure enlightened soul shattered the cloud of murky darkness around the vampire elder, exposing him as he licked Arrohawk's blood off his sword with a malevolent expression on his face. He staggered beneath the awe-inspiring light, a glow that stabbed up to the heavens bright enough to be visible on Farside City. Before Lugat could act, though, Wesley's mutant command over the very powers of life and death reached out to ensnare the vampire's follower. Sixtus screamed and vomited, writhing in the grasp of her tormentors as she bucked in pure internal agony. With a supreme effort, summoning a last center of mad strength, Sixtus screamed through blood and vomit: "BURN!" A blast of pure, raw, mystic energy came pouring from the tip of the staff, just missing Hellbound's head as it carved a hole in the fabric of reality itself. Through the hole, the assembled heroes and villians could see a scene from a monstrous nightmare: a world of bones and flesh, fire and pain, angels of teeth and bones and hunger flying through the nightmare sky overhead, a vision of Hellish torment equal to the nightmares of any Boschian nightmare. And through that hole strode a fiend like no other, a horned head like a bloody goat's skull, arms and legs that spoke of necromantic power like no other, blood and death dripping from every pore, a nightmare of pain and torment in every aspect of its gaze that promised to never end. The ground burned where he stood, the floor of the damaged house smoldering monstrously beneath the fiend. It stood big as a man, but promised more. What stood before the assembled heroes was nothing less than an undead demon. "WHO DARES SUMMON THE GREATEST OF THE NECRO-KINGS?!"

Jack felt bolts of electricity surge through his body as the energetic thug jumped up on the table with him, knowing he had to work fast. He could be burned easily enough, but there was no overloading a dead nervous system. Instead he grinned evilly, fear shining in the face of the super-thug as he saw the gleeful reaction from his opponent. Jack drove his fist into the other man's face, breaking his nose and filling the air with a smell of ozone. Jack kept things fast and moving, grabbing his opponent by the shirt and punching him with the other hand, punching him again and again until he fell to the ground. Jasmine had run off, like a smart girl, leaving Jack to drop his unconscious antagonist all the way to the ground. "Who's next!?" he called, slamming his bloodied fists together as he gazed menacingly at the remaining bad guys.

Oh, I didn't expect you guys to start posting yet! You cheeky devils. Actually, Arrowhawk, your Toughness save is for getting stabbed by the Elder with his gigantic black sword.

Oh, and Hellbound, you're up.

All right. Everyone gets an HP for this unfortunate setback. Dark Star, you get 2 HP. On a related note, Belphegor may wake up on his initiative in this turn. Arrowhawk, you get 2 HP. Also, make a DC 26 Toughness save. The room is currently in complete magical darkness, providing total concealment except against people who can see in darkness for one reason or another.

Arrowhawk, Dark Star, and Scarab noticed something odd about Avenger. The masked hero was struck full-on by the waves of magical death exploding from the staff of Sixtus, but he shrugged the magical energy off entirely. It wasn't a matter of surviving the awful waves of cold and numbness tugging everyone's soul. It was a matter of them not affecting him at all. Scarab, at least, knew perfectly well why that was. - Scarab recognized the markings on the altar, in particular the name written all around them. Lord Lugat Vorkolaka had been a monstrous fiend in the Balkans through most of the later Renaissance and the birth of the Enlightenment, an incredibly powerful, wicked vampire lord wielding the powers of the shadows themselves. Heru-Ra might not know every vampire in the world; but he sure as heck recognized one who'd been a personal correspondent of Tan-Aktor back in the dark days of the Inquisition. - Hellbound and Divine pinned Sister Sixtus against the wall, the mad-eyed cultist bizarrely flat-eyed and still as the two powerhouses smashed her against the wall so hard that the plaster above her broke. She didn't make a sound, though, instead eying them both as her lips slowly pulled back from her teeth. Across the room, Belphegor shrugged off Avenger's punch only to be smashed into the altar behind him. The singed demon half-shattered the stone, slumping heavily as he slipped into unconsciousness. Inside the broken altar, human blood, the ashes of a dead vampire, and the power of a demon briefly coalesced. This resulted in an interesting thing. The lid of the 'altar', now revealed as a coffin, shattered as a single blackened blade burst through the stone, bizarre arcane symbols visible on the steel as they punched their way through behind a pale hand gripping a haft set with a skull. The altar broke in the next moment, top going one way and bottom the next, sending the unconscious Belphegor to the ground and Arrowhawk falling back to avoid being pinned. At the sight of the melee at the altar, Sister Sixtus gave a triumphant, glorious scream. "The Red King rises. HE RISES!" Her words formed a sussurating chorus in the room as the figure of a man emerged from the altar. His hair was black and curly, his beard cut short in the old style, his black leather clothes creaking and rotten with age. This man was dead; his flesh was dessicated, but his eyes burned with a red intelligence and his decrepit state couldn't hide a handsome, fallen face. Confusion shone on his face as he looked over the others, all of them, the dead and alive alike, before suddenly his gaze fell on the Scarab's. "Heru-Ra! You will pay for the deaths of my followers! Tan-Aktor will surely reward me with the blood of a thousand virgins for your head! But first...I THIRST!" And at that, he opened his mouth inhumanely wide, and the room plunged into absolute darkness. A moment later, there was the sound of metal on flesh...

That is a DC 22 Toughness save for Belphegor, taking his Bruised into account.