alderwitch

'Mike!' Alex's distressed cry echoed down their private link even as she raised her hands up, palm outward and gathered up their fallen teammates in cushions of telekinetic energy. Gone was the day when anything heavier than a book took intense focus and concentration, Alex could have lifted much heavier objects with as little attention as it took her to pull James and Erin to her. Holding them, Alex bent first over Erin, checking her pupils and pulse with quick shaking hands. She understood that as long as James was alive, so was the gate, but Erin she was less certain of. Her jaw was tight as she bent her head over Erin, curls slipping over her shoulder, tightly controlled temper flickered down her bond with Mike. She needed to focus on helping their teammates, no matter how much she might personally want to hurt this evil, evil creature. Fortunately, Alex wasn't alone, and she didn't have to elucidate her thoughts any further than a desperate, 'Mike, please.'

Phantom laughed, reaching up to the gem at her throat that winked with fell light between her fingertips. Her cloak fell away like vanishing shadows and a young woman of Asian ancestry smiled up at Atlas, revealing dimpled cheeks that seemed very out of place with the entire mysterious mystic look that she frequently sported. Actually, she didn't look much older than James and without the cloak and boots, barely topped five feet. In jeans and a thick turtleneck sweater, she looked rather like the college student she was. The only common thread was the necklace that still glittered around her throat. "Neither werewolf, nor robot. I suppose technically you could call me a witch, but I prefer mystic. It's a bit more accurate. Witches tend to be hereditary. I've also been mistaken for a ghost before, but I'm quite alive." She tucked her hands in her jean pockets, her breath steaming out in a quick puff, "Interdimensional guardian is the easiest way to describe what I do. I put things back where they belong, dimensionally speaking. Sometimes it's objects, sometimes it's people."

She'd been watching the horde on the horizon, her chin tilted slightly up and her eyes still faintly a glow from the dregs of the power in her bruised face. Without her cloak, Jack had a clear view of her profile and was easily able to see her eyes widen before she whipped around to look at him so abruptly that she almost tripped herself. Her hand ghosted through his arm and she muttered something under her breath as she tried to gather her scattered wits enough to reform her body into something that could interact with the world. "You're asking me now?" Taylor waved her hands at the demons closing in, a thick black line on the horizon, "We're about to ripped limb from limb - for the second time today - and you're proposing?" Taylor finally managed to find the right reality and she gripped his arms with her leather gloved hands. She searched his eyes, her expressions shifting rapidly benath her mask, fear, shock, adrenaline. There had been so much death, so much despair. Finally her lips quirked and she tilted her face up to him. Her cheek dimpled under the mask in a way that it hadn't since the nightmare had begun, "You lunatic. Yes. But we have to survive this first."

"You're a liar," Psyche lifted her head up to look at the demon lord, her voice high and frightened but clear. She didn't try to stand back up. Reaching up, she peeled the leather mask off her face and dropped it into the mud next to her knees, "Deciet is the only power that you have. That hell has. You're not here because of your power, you're here because of James's power. You can trick him into making choices but he has a choice. You can't take that away, you don't have that much strength." Alex tucked her hands between her knees and lifted her chin, her expression weary but serene, "You might be able to kill our bodies but you can't claim our souls unless we let you. You can't have mine." Turning her face away from the demons, she pushed herself up on unsteady legs and slipped her hand into Mike's, threading her fingers through his, "I forgive you, James."

25, a pass if barely

"I think we'll have to get something a bit sturdier than cheap folding chairs," Phantom opinioned, glancing up (and up, and up) at Atlas. Her lips quirked with amusement as he went through the body-builder poses and she shook her head, her hood rustling with the movement, "I voted for renting some bingo hall on an off night but that does lack the ambience." She gestured up and around at the moonlight bathed cemetary. "Its very picturesque and this time there's no one stealing corpses. At least, that we've noticed, yet."

You're up, Q.

Half a dozen still standing by Phantom's count, and all of those gravely wounded, she stopped countering as the demons were crushed before Dark Star's final and rather fatal wrath. As Ace vanished back into the mansion with Stesha, Phantom stopped by the group of valiant citizens - at least those who were still remaining. "Follow Ace inside. Brace the door and bar the windows. We'll hold them as long as we can." She glanced around at the other heroes that still stood on unsteady legs and inclined her head in respect. There wasn't anything to say, really. The demons would be back, likely with reinforcements. And in the meanwhile, they had a good dozen burly brutes that would be a hard fight, even if they were all in peak condition. Phantom couldn't even remember what peak condition felt like. She closed her eyes, focusing the last reserves of her power to teleport out to Avenger. "You have lost your mind completely." Phantom announced in a rasping mutter even as she stepped in to guard his back from the demons he had rather successfully taunted. She scrunched her shoulders up, fists balled tightly under the glow of energy in her hands. "Utterly and completely. At least I can blast something again.

I'll spend that HP to clear my fatigue ( again ) and back to 0 HP! Woo! I'm going to end this thread exhausted, I can tell. Emotion Control: Hope. That'd be on everyone, although it is selective. I am selecting everyone I will Extra Effort it to raise the will save to DC22. Psyche is now fatigued, again.

Something that sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement echoed from under Phantom's hood at Avenger's miniature speech. She shifted again, folding her arms up under her cloak and silently envied Jack's perch on the tombstone. The cloak writhed accross the ground as she settled her booted feet into a braced stance that she hoped would be comfortable enough for the duration of the meeting. Really, they were going to have to look into at least folding chairs. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose. 'Does not play well with others' is what I've always heard." Her tone turned sardonic but she flashed a quick smile and nod at Hellion, "I still think that sounds a bit too like a support group saying, however. You'd be surprised how many people have almost destroyed Freedom City."

The lines of strain smoothed out in Psyche's face and she let her hand fall away from Mark's shoulder. It fell limply to her side as she raised a face that was far too serene for the surrounding situation. As she held James weakened and disoriented under her psychic thumb, she paused to cradle his spirt gently in mental hands before returning control of his body to him. It was his choice to make, and in that moment, it was very clear that she could have just as easily ripped his body away from him. In her own way, Alex was just as gentle with her awesome strength as Mike was. Hers was simply a strength of a different kind. Psyche had been glowing since her powerboost in the graveyard but that glow seeemed to grow ever brighter on that dark and bloody field. What she projected at all of them came from the depths of her own soul, her pure belief in that the world was good, her faith, and her endless, bottomless patience. Beyond all of that, though, it was simply hope. It was a beautiful and pure emotion that rushed through, bolstering her friends before it wrapped around James and encourged that little spark of humanity. That ember that everyone human had that said 'Something better is coming, something brighter is on the horizon'. As it left her, Psyche sank to her knees boneless and vulnerable in the center of the field.

Under normal conditions, Phantom could cast her magic with a look, direct her spells with will alone. Now, her hands traced patterns in the air while she rasped words to give the magic oomph. Time had lost all meaning, as she found herself locked in the deadly steps. Counter, turn, dodge, cast, counter... When she found herself caught by the tattered remains of her cloak, she shrugged out of it and hoped that the demon would be brought down by arrow or bolt or flower. Even a bloody rock. A thousand times she was tempted to blast away at the horde, as the heroes fell, but she was the only one able to counter the spells so she lifted her hands once more to turn aside the swelling power of the horde only to have her concentration broken by Stesha's frightened wail. Automatically her gaze shifted to Dark Star and then down to the dwindling group below. She didn't pause to see if Dark Star went after Stesha, but part of her - the part that was still entirely Taylor Chun hoped he did. Phantom turned her back on yet another fallen comrade and floated down to the ever shrinking ring of heroes. Her leg buckled as she landed. Phantom limped over on a leg that was reknitting too slowly, to where Ace and Avenger held their flank. Not because it was a strong position, or because it made tactical sense, but because behind her mask her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. Because her arms were weary, and her heart was heavy. Because this was where she wanted to be when the world ended. She fell in behind Avenger, shadowing his movements and taking up a place that allowed her to protect the few civilians that still stood. 'Heshem... Heshem, please. Let it be enough. Please, let us hold long enough.' Phantom lifted her eyes to the blood red sky once more, her hands raised up as if in supplication as she stopped the infernal magic with every scrap of strength she still possessed. Her voice was very soft as she pronounced the Arabic words. Not a spell, nor prayer, but a poem written almost a hundred years ago. The liquid beauty of Gibran's Song of Man seemed both appropriate and comforting somehow. "I was here from the moment of the/ Beginning, and here I am still. And/ I shall remain here until the end of the world, for there is no/ Ending to my grief-striken being."

7 wounds

In the sky, the intangible heroine made a valiant showing as she floated amidst the demon lordlings and their volley after volley of power. Although bruised and bloodied, it was the fire that washed over her that finally ripped a scream from Phantom's throat. Her voice was almost drowned under the victorious roar of the demonic horde. With her blood spilled on the field of battle, they knew and Phantom knew, that defeat was only a matter of time now. Phantom, however, intended to make them pay for every scrap of ground they won. Through the pain, she flung the folds of her massive cloak wide and with the last of her fading strength, Phantom sent the void itself out through the knot of demons surrounding her. The endless expanse of eternal darkness sliced through the demons around her. It ripped and tore through supernatural flesh and chilled creatures made of fire. Reality itself screamed at this new assualt on the tattered barriers of the world, but it was the last weapon Phantom had to wield. She did so without hesitation. Even as the attack on her was renewed, Phantom held the barrage before she finally fell under endless assault of the demonic horde. Phantom's body fell from the sky, without her will to sustain her magic, and she was dragged under the demonic press.

Stunting off my magic array (34 points) Touch Range Area Blast 11 (Extra: Selective, PF: Progression) That should be 220 feet of magical damage. DC21 reflex save, followed by DC26 or a DC20 if they save. The stunt stays for the whole round, so she will spend her last HP to clear the fatigue from the stunt, surge and fire it again. I'm writing her out this post as it is impossible to make those toughness saves and Phantom is going to go out in a BLAZE OF GLORY. :D

1d20+11=17, 1d20+11=12, 1d20+11=15 9 wounds, leaving me at 2 toughness. I feel that's appropriate considering where Phantom's at, and I'll save my last HP for a dramatic show of force next round before she's rendered unconcious

"Deadhead, who we've all worked with before, and Hellion, who I don't believe you've met." Phantom volunteered easily, being the more talkative of the two, at least in costume. "Avenger believes, and I agree, that we have similar enough outlooks on our guardianship of the city and, also, similar enough - hmm - situations." She hesitated over the last word, slanting a glance over at Avenger to see if he wanted to move the topic away from the matter at hand until the others arrived. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and volunteered aloud, "I don't mind repeating. I wasn't a fan of the formal format of our last groups meetings, either."

Phantom lifted her chin at the challenge, her expression amused under her mask even as she tilted her face up to look at him. It would have been easier to take a step back than crane her neck. Jack really could loom when he put his mind to it. It helped, of course, that she was almost a foot shorter when they were standing on even ground. She made a mental note to land on a rock or something next time as floating up now would have looked rediculous. Phantom's gaze skittered away first to watch Atlas approach before she flashed a wicked grin at Avenger, as if to say, 'Your suggestion, you wrestle him.' Phantom shifted slightly to Avenger's side to include the large Russian in their circle, her cloaked shoulder brushing against Avenger's leather jacket. "I assume Avenger is joking. Last time we wrestled, I did throw him into a wall." Her voice echoed out from her cloak, but there was a smile in her voice. "Hello, Atlas."

Her hood was pushed far enough back that Jack could see the flash of her white smile in the shadows. She tilted her head to regard him and settled her booted feet a little wider apart, arms folded under the cloak. The thick folds masked her body shape and posture fairly well as she eased her weight from one foot to the other. "I think you have a flair for the dramatic, actually." The irony of that statement was not lost on her. One couldn't exactly be out in a graveyard in a costume and not have some flair for the dramatic, after all. "Actually, I know you have a flair for the dramatic. I still think that if we're going to make this a semi permanant thing, we should have a place that has chairs. We could always rent out a hall, between bingo night and whatever event where men show up with moose hats and beer."

Phantom's updates (That I'm finally getting around to requesting. Oops) Feats: [3] Ritualist Benefit: Wealth (1) Skill Mastery (Concentration, Knowledge: Arcane Lore, Notice, Search) Skills: [+5 = 20r] [72r = 18pp] Concentration 10 (+15) Intimidate 2 (+4) Knowledge (Arcane Lore) 17 (+21) Knowledge (History) 6 (+10) Languages 11 (Arabic, Aramaic, Cantonese, Egyptian, Greek, German, Hindi, Latin, Mandarin, Old Slavonic, Tibetian; English is native) Notice 10 (+15) Search 11 (+15) Sense Motive 5 (+10) last 3 pp to Avenger for his HQ, just please buy me a library Done by Geez3r

"Nothing says romance like frostbite and open graves," Phantom responded dryly as she shifted to face him, her cloak writhing before it settled out. She was solid enough that rather than drifting through the ground, the tattered edges flared out and dragged over the stone and grass on either side of the path before settling almost tendril like. She reached up to push the dark hood back from her features enough that she could see him clearly. Her own supernatural nature protected her from the cold which was a darn good thing other wise her thighs would be blue under the cloak. As it was, she still wasn't about to sit on anything. Her lips quirked in a private smile before she spoke again, her voice pitched low, "Well, I didn't sense any necromantic magics in this graveyard at least. Well, no more than one would expect, really. Of course, everywhere we go, it does seem to end in a fight so I'm only giving us fifty-fifty odds."

Midnighters thread for AA. I'm not sure when this is happening. AA?

Date: Late November/Early December, 2009 The moon hung full and high in the crisp winter sky, painting the dark back alleys of Lincoln with its ghostly light. It was really the perfect night to meet in the center of some broken down cemetery, Phantom thought wryly to herself, but the chose location had been a more urban and frankly a more nuetral settling. Gathering the folds of her cloak in her hands, she floated down to the spiderwebbed and cracked pavement. It was possible that she wasn't alone - some of the invitees could hide even to her senses, after all - but the thought didn't concern her over much. Instead, she glanced around from under the sheild of her hood with slight impatience.

"I will," Alex promised before hesitating at Erin's obvious discomfort over Mike. She twisted the hem of her shirt with delicate fingertips that searched out the loose threads to fray. It was awfully tempting to bring up and get things out in the open, so that they could work past whatever emotional hiccup this was causing for her friend. Alex rather doubted that it was a good time. On the other hand, these things shouldn't be left to fester. Deciding to let the conversation play out and follow Erin's lead, Alex said quietly, "Mike's sitting on top of the memorial to Centurion. He's gone quiet and introspective, so I probably won't disturb him."

Taylor was laughing and blushing by the time the song finished and she whacked Jack lightly on the shoulder for his remarks, "I'm going to be a total hypocrite and tell you not to tease poor Derrick. Birthday girl's perogative. If he blushes any harder he's going to go up in flames." "Thank you." She flashed a dimpled smile at the couple as they made their way back to the table. She glanced over the table at all the gathered friends and added, "Really, I'd like to thank you all. I know just how busy everyone is. It means a lot that you're here." Then, before it could get too somber, she glanced around at Archevielle, "Now, I do believe we were promised a song by the good doctor."