Gizmo
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The hurried scientist had only made it inside the Senate building when Iana's bodyguards quickly closed the gap between themselves and the young woman, one of them taking her firmly by the arm while the other jogged ahead a few paces. "Ma'am, you need to come with us now," the former insisted in a flat, emotionless tone that betrayed the focus it was taking for him to remain perfectly calm. "Eh? Unhand me, what are you talking about?" As Iana made an attempt to shake off the larger Lor, wailing alarms began to sound from the various government building all around them, discordant and mismatched but all insistent. Figured began to pour forth onto the street, some running, others wheeling about in confusion and mounting concern. "We have a potential Omega Alert. Our orders are to evacuate you to your family's orbital estate." He was almost dragging her along now, picking up his pace as they headed toward the towering landmark of the Vox. "You'll be safe there." The Senator had hired only the best for her protection but it was clear that lying had not been high on the list of necessary skills for the position. "I'm not going anywhere without my mother!" the honey blonde haired princess protested, gripping her small satchel in one hand to stop it from bouncing about. The raised walkways were quickly filling with crowds of people pushing against each other as they forced their way toward personal vehicles or shuttle landings. The second bodyguard stepped in the path of a low flying hovercar leaving the Ministry of Science building, raising a badge in one hand. His telepathic shout could be 'heard' by anyone receptive for a hundred meters. --Citizen, on the authority of the Senate, I am commandeering this vehicle. Please come to a halt.--
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Seven charged onto the bridge at the physical centre of her ship, ignoring the startled salutes of the crewmen around her and snapping, "I want a tactical holo last cycle, people!" The young woman to her immediate left hurriedly tapped on her console, summoning a holographic representation of Lor-Van's solar system to rise from an emitter the size of a dinner table. More than a few gasps and murmurs spread through the bridge crew as the tactical map gave a visual representation to the staggering numbers Seven had seen in her report. Their systems couldn't find any match of the vessels in their databases but they were plentiful enough to appear more like a solid wave than individual vessels. There was no way such a force should have been able to cross into Republic space unnoticed let alone come within spitting distance of the homeworld. "...well kark me sideways and call me an Irreran's auntie," the captain opined judiciously, planting her hands on her hips. The sound of rapid, strained breathing called her attention back to the tactical aide, who was struggling to control an attack of hyperventilation. Orbit-side duty was supposed to be a safe posting and most of her crew were either just-graduated cadets or had influential relatives. It wasn't much to work with. "Listen up!" Seven shouted, tapping on his comlink to broadcast shipwide again. "Most of you haven't served with me for long but you've probably heard some things. Taught a handful of lower primates to use tools so they could help me save a half dozen senators from Illthi pirates. Made admiral in my first year after decanting and got busted back down to staff sergeant in the same cycle. Punched the Curator is his ugly face. Some of it's even true. And I made it through all that because I've got something none of those glitches had going for them." Meeting the eyes of her bridge crew, she snarled, "I'm Lor Fleet and we don't go down! So pull on your grown-up boots, people! We've got a planet to protect!"
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"Names," the taller man cautioned mildly, raising an index finger in momentary interruption. It was to be expected, really; there was a sort of assumption that anyone on the Claremont campus was 'in the know' and secret identities were considerably more relaxed. More importantly he'd been vouched for by both the Summers and Alek had good reason to believe that he already had access to student files. Still, keeping given names and codenames separate was a good habit to get into early on. He made something that could have been a snort when the high school student mentioned the name Next-Gen but he quickly moved on as they stepped inside again and headed for the elevator that would take them to underground facilities. "Misunderstand question. Not powers, tactics. People. Tell me."
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The polite chirp at her quarters' door woke Captain Shepherd-07 from the light sleep of the career military woman but even if it hadn't the insistent pounding on the same door that immediately followed certainly would have. Swearing under her breath, the red-headed clone gruffly demanded, "Lights," as she swung herself off of her cot and answered the continued knocking. Orbital defense hadn't been the most illustrious posting of her tumultuous career but she'd assumed she'd at least be able to get a solid four sub-cycles of sleep now and then. "What." The ensign on the other side of the sliding door still had one fist raised to continue knocking and was sweating buckets from the hairline of his widow's peak. "S-sir! There's a- there's- it's--" He shoved a piece of datapaper toward her and gulped audibly to get his stammering under control. "A hostile fleet, sir! Headed for Lor-Van!" Seven had to blink a few times at the datapaper as she scrolled through the make sure she was reading the staggering numbers correctly. "How far out are they?" she barked with enough volume to focus the distraught ensign while she retrieved a clean uniform and dressed efficiently. "No, sir, that's just the thing! They're already here!" the junior officer explained, wringing his hands. "We only just picked them up as they entered the system!" Seven looked at him for a slit moment as if he'd just grown a second head before flying into action. "Captain to all points, red alert. Combat stations. This is not a drill," she ordered into a comlink, her words echoing throughout the ship as she sprinted for the bridge.
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Iana Th'emme sat on the steps of the Senate building with her hands behind her head and resisted the urge to check the time in her chronoring for the umpteenth time. Growing up as the daughter of a senator had meant many an afternoon spent waiting for one meeting or another to end but in her teenaged years she'd had more opportunity to sit in on those meeting or remain somehow involved as her mother encouraged her growth and education. Lately, however, her mother had been unusually tight lipped, beyond the usual needs of decorum and privileged information. Iana was sure there was a good reason but it didn't stop her from feeling as though she were being treated like a child, nor from the nagging idea that something might actually have the unstoppable, fearless Senator worried. With a sigh, the Lor girl jumped to her feet from her reclined position with a grace that came from the physical training she'd begun being kidnapped by the notorious pirate Krak-En Vas some years before. She'd even begun learning the use of firearms and combat mentat techniques from a friend in the military, despite her mother's inevitable disapproval if she ever found out, looking for any chance to dull the acute boredom that pervaded her day to day life apart from the occasional adventure borne of crisis. As she wandered down the steps, a pair of bodyguards in mirrored visors following at a distance, Iana couldn't help but wish something, anything would happen to liven up the day. Lost in her thoughts she almost collided with a panicked fellow as he sprinted from the nearby Ministry of Science building toward the Senate. The frail looking scientists arms were full of the big, fortified datapads the Ministry used to record scientific data in its raw, most detailed form, protected from any accidents by thick casing. He must be in a hurry if he didn't take time to transfer all of that onto something more portable, Iana reflected as the scientist raced by without so much as a mumbled apology.
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Enymor drew himself up in barely contained outrage at Th'emme's rebuke. "You may think us beneath you, oh esteemed representative of a most noble house," he spat back venomously, "but do not think us dullards! We have read those reports and they are blatant fiction of most absurd sort! The Grue Unity, decimated or worse within the span of mere decacycles? Planets reduced to rubble by some mysterious force none can name?" He waved the fingers of his free hand in a parody of a fortuneteller's theatrics. "Idiocy! Nothing more than politically motivated exaggerations and falsehoods!" "One wonders what response you would have us make," another voice cut in, a barrel chested man with a cleft chin and an almost untenable number of medals and honors pinned to one side of his robes. "Dame Diena Th'emme is a first name signed to any motion to cut military funding or pull focus from the real, ongoing threat of the Khanate." Tugging on his belt with both hands, the retired General Cie's voice drawled in a booming baritone. "If you had your way, we wouldn't have a single cruiser or commando unit to react to these supposed attacks, one way or another." The look Th'emme gave them both was cold enough to shatter the bones of less experienced debaters. "Senator-Prime Th'emme, General," she corrected calmly, refusing to let the sarcastic references to her family name ruffle her. "Some of us prefer to use our relevant titles within this chamber. Where reassigning education funds to the construction of additional cloning facilities is concerned, our position remains unchanged." Folding her arms, she continued without allowing a pause for interruption, "Objecting to renewed and increased hostilities against the Khanate - which has not attacked our borders for several trinecycles, I remind this august body - is not the same as suggesting we leave the worlds under our care undefended against a clear and present danger!"
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In theory, the High Senate could have been carried out in perfect silence. Of the five dozen senator-primes selected to make up that august body, convened in times when the full senate representing all of the Republic's myriad worlds was considered too cumbersome, nearly all were accomplished mentats, descended from strong telepathic bloodlines. Those few who had somehow risen to their station despite lacking that advantage had translators among their aides or cyberware to make up for the deficiency. There was another trait which the senator-primes shared unanimously, however: they all enjoyed the sound of their own voices. And so, rather than silence, the massive chamber hosted a cacophony of shouting and gavels pounding against durasteel. "We fail to see why this session was even called!" a lean man with heavy lines on his pale face and a triangular goatee to contrast with his shaved head shouted, drawing up the draping fabric of his robes in one hand and gesturing dismissively with the other. "If some motley pirate vessels are winning skirmishes with the Grue, what care have we? Give them a commission!" "Your failure to comprehend is nothing new, Enymor," came the scathing rebuttal from a tall blonde, dark skinned senator across the chamber. She carried herself with imperious poise and the iron in her voice caused a few of the other shouting matches to die down prematurely as she maneuvered her hovering platform forward with a thought. "The Speaker recognizes Senator-Prime Th'emme to the floor," the beleaguered old bureaucrat seated at the head of the chamber called belatedly, distracted running one hand through his thinning grey hair and almost forgetting to punctuate the proclamation with his gavel. Th'emme made no sign that the acknowledgement meant anything to her one way or the other as she continued. "These are not 'skirmishes' no matter what you might like to believe! Report after report, we have reliable intelligence making clear the devastation of the Grue fleet and the sterilization of multiple worlds! In one case the planet itself appears to have been destroyed! These are no more pirates than the Republic itself is a backyard social!"
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Erik accepted the sheathed saber carefully, the way one would handle an antique, but his knuckles turned white when he wrapped one hand around the hilt. Working his jaw back and forth, the fencer shook his head slightly with a weak smile. "Heh. Y'know, the hardest part was trying to imagine Bill just fading away, getting old with nothing to do. Stupid. You two packed in ninety years of adventures, huh?" Letting go of the handle with some difficulty, he ran his fingers over the scabbard contemplatively. "Guess I've got some catching up to do, you ridiculous cowboy S.O.B.," he muttered under his breath, exhaling shakily and closing his eyes for a moment to stay composed. When he opened them, he grinned at his wife. "Did I ever tell you about the time Bill and me got into a bar fight with a college football team? I mean the whole team."
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"Hey..." Erik murmured so softly it was barely perceptible as he put his arms around Min's shoulders and gave her a tight, one-armed hug, not having to be half so restrained as she did with him. "Not getting rid of me any time soon, alright? We're alright." Looking over to Lynn, he added more loudly but with a slight catch in his throat, "Dios, Lynnie, I'm sorry. We wondered but... it's hard to believe Bill just..." The fencer trailed off with a wince, unable to finish the thought out loud. Ellie stepped over to where their hostess was sitting and with some hesitation, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The young woman opened her mouth for a moment but closed it again, deciding on silence instead. Noticing the dramatic shift in the tone of the room, Eden looked to each of the adult faces surrounding her, becoming increasingly distraught. Finally she slid off the couch with a slight huff and shakily made her way across the living room to wrap her arms around Lynn's shin, patting with her toddler's hands and making shushing sounds.
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"Man, every time!" Daybreak protested as he staggered about under the unexpected added weight of his twin, obviously exaggerated for comedic intent given the strength and gymnastic poise they'd both demonstrated throughout the night. For her part Nightfall didn't have any trouble staying balanced even while her brother's arms windmilled about. "You're already taller than me!" Hematite had to duck to avoid being clipped in the chin by a flailing sledgehammer and grumbled something in a warning tone under his breath even while one corner of his mouth threatened to turn upward in a small smile. "Saw that," Blackbird noted matter-of-factly as her hologram jumped from her partner's shoulder as Tensile's cybernetic hand landed there, resizing mid-fall to land on the ballroom floor as large as life. She took up a pose just behind the alternate timeline brothers, hands clasped behind the small of her back. Troy scowled and folded his arms across his chest. "No idea what you're talking about," he insisted gruffly, squaring his stance but allowing himself to be pulled into the group without protest. The autonomic machine intelligence's expression remained perfectly deadpanned. "Naturally. You should manifest as well, Grandmother," she called behind the group to where the Night Cycle was parked. Redbird's customary holographic form projected itself somewhat begrudgingly from the front of the vehicle, stomping the rest of the way to the gathering family as well as she could with boots made out of photons. "Bah! You have yet to explain that... title." The only answer the fuming Furion received from her counterpart was Blackbird miming pulling the tab of a zipper across her expressionless lips. "Rrrh... Cursed time travel." "Made my week," Travis opined with ill concealed amusement, using his cane to usher his own grandchild forward and toward the middle next to Erin. When Mystery attempted to squeeze in somewhere behind Tensile's bulk despite the photo having been her idea, the eldest Hunter prodded her elbow as well. "Help an old man, hmm?" With little recourse the petite telepath nodded and let her ancestor rest a hand on her shoulder. Looking around him at the collected generations, Trevor made a soft sound that might have almost been a chuckle. Pulling a thumb-sized matte black rectangle from his belt he tossed the miniaturized camera to Quark. "If you would." Slipping his arm around Erin's waist, he gave her a bemused shrug. "Say, 'coffee'."
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Katanarchists Initiative.: 1d20+5 12 Patricia the Regenerating Cockney Lady From That One Time When Eden Was Born Initiative.: 1d20+5 25 25 - Patricia - Uninjured 23 - Erik Espadas - Uninjured, 6HP 19 - Jean Pique - Bruised x1 12 - Katanarchists - Uninjured, x36 11 - Min Espadas - Uninjured, 2HP
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Set had honestly expected tracking down Thrude Thorsdottir to be more difficult. Perhaps the godling had simply become too reliant on the infinite permutations of communication and social media pervading the modern mortal world but the prospect of locating one woman - even if she did admittedly stand out in a crowd - amongst the bustling city without the benefit of so much as a Twitter handle had seemed daunting. Set was hardly one to back down from a challenge once he'd made up his mind, however, and after a significant amount of sleuthing he'd found enough hasty smartphone videos of massive battle hammers and Facebook posts from annoyed meteorologists to at least fell like he was looking in the right neighbourhood. Ultimately, though, the building shaking thunderclaps and explosions towering over rooftops were much more helpful. "Ho! Adventure!" the Scion of the Sirocco exclaimed, bounding over parked cars and newspaper dispensers as he sprinted toward the source of the commotion.
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"There's nowhere to go!" Ellie protested, bracing herself against the door frame with one hand while she leaned into the hallway and looked back and forth up and down the hall. There was no convenient window left ajar to slip outside, no supply closet left unlocked, no cries of surprise from around the corner as a streaker raced past. "I didn't see any kind of, y'know, light show," she added, ducking back into the stairwell and nudging the pile of clothes cautiously with her toes. "Can we check for... a teleport signal or see if the molecules in the floor are screwy or something?" The EMT felt like she was grasping at straws as much as she was grasping for terminology, hoping Mara might be able to deduce a reasonable, scientific explanation.
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Edge's suggestion had barely left his lips before Midnight proved he was a step ahead, the now shadowy Rafale roaring down the length to the listing carrier at tremendous speed and pulling smoothly into the air despite the uneven runway. "Armament successfully upgraded," Redbird's voice reported within in the cockpit as the fighter pulled into a tight circle that brought it around to face the levitating hydrokinetics. "Reintegrating on-board targeting systems." "Forgetting title Furions gave me," Midnight drawled dryly, pulling up hard on the yoke and letting a barrage of rockets loose without waiting for any assistance beyond his reticule. The projectiles streaked forward trailing black smoke tinged with ruby light that betrayed the improvements made by the autonomic machine intelligence and unerringly struck each of Typhoon's heirs who didn't happen to be dating one of the masked pilot's best friends. The al-Darsah siblings had not been raised to be weaklings and the deafening explosions of the rockets were mitigated by watery shields, fantastical armor and quick wits but in rapid succession each and every one of them was taken out of the fight. "Ha! I love my job," Redbird crowed contentedly.
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"I'd not bother with subterfuge," Set called, stepping back over to the others. Crimson electricity sparked at the far corners of the godling's eyes, looking like sharply violent rouge atop the brown-black lines above her cheekbones. "I expect our host already knows we're here. Most devils can smell souls quite a ways off." Turning to face the main entrance, she flexed her fingers a few times, expression dark. "Fortunately, the disposal of such filth is something of a shared area of interest twixt She Before Whom Evil Trembles and I." Sekhmet, having crouched enough to place a reassuring hand behind the ears of the wolf who had stepped forward to speak of his haggard pack, rose to her full height, sun disk still illuminating the room with the light of day. "Aye." Without further discussion beyond that one snarled syllable, the goddess' fists erupted in gold flame, ready to do her righteous work.
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"Mmh. Should have come here more often," the man in the tinted glasses mused quietly to himself, observing the handful of students out on the campus grounds contemplatively as though trying to deduce the story of each. Shaking his head almost imperceptibly, he resumed his walk toward the training facility at his original pace. Glancing to one side to make sure Aleksander had begun following him again, the alumni asked without warning, "Teammates. Friends. Tell me." It was as quiet as anything else he's said to the youth but there was slight difference in tone that implied that this was more directly part of the promised training. Even so he resumed his sciences and gave Aleksander as much time as he needed to consider and organize his thoughts.
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"Well! Any time you desire I show a little more leg, oh well-formed wizardess, you have merely to command!" Set promised, trying a little too obviously to be amusing after the weighty subject matter of the conversation, thought the spirit of the offer was genuine. Following Temperance's gaze out into the city, tracing the scene of their battle, the godling pursed his lips. "Ought not leave Sekhmet unsupervised for too long, aye. You know she thinks she keeps me out of trouble? Tis adorable." Rising to his feet, he stretched his arms high over his head with a soft grunt before offering the masked heroine a hand and admitting, "I've never seen a sea lion, in fact."
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Midnight II Alright, going to assume Redbird had a chance to work her magic on the fighter jet to bring things up to caps for Midnight, so: Move Action: Take off into the air. Redbird gets Pilot 22 with Skill Mastery, if it matters! Standard Action: Air to Air Missiles vs. Al-Darsahes.: 1d20+10 27 (Regular Fighter Jets have Damage 11 (Extras: Explosion, Ranged; Feats: Homing 1) [34PP] (air-to-air missiles) according to the Core Rules; Redbird has turned those into Damage 14 (Extras: Area [Cone, Targeted], Selective) [41PP] (Furion rockets), assuming that passes muster.)
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RELOADED by Thevshi Midnight II Midnight II was original created using a Bronze Veteran Reward for a second PL10 slot. He also currently uses 11PP from another Veteran Reward for ranks of Minion. I'm stripping out the former to free it up, retroactively making him my PL7 slot and reducing his PP total by 45. This will place him at 247PP after the September 2014 PP rewards (these edits can wait until those rewards have gone through), but I'm also using the remaining 4PP from the latter Veteran Reward for ranks of Equipment, compensating for the 3PP under 250PP. Most of these edits are therefore purely cosmetic as I fixed up a bunch of broken or outdated formatting on his sheet. His fluff has been updated to reflect his current appearance. His Equipment section now looks like this: Equipment: 11PP = 55EP 5 + 4 + 5 + 21 + 20 = 55EP Strike 3 (Feats: Mighty, Subtle) [5EP] (Collapsible Escrima Sticks) Immunity 4 (Suffocation Effects, Visual Dazzles) [4EP] (Midnight Mask) Speed 1 (10mph / 100ft per Move Action) [1EP] + Super-Movement 2 (Slow Fall, Swinging) [4EP] (Grappling Hook Gun) Night Cycle (Vehicle) [21EP] Size: Medium [0EP]; Strength: 20 [2EP]; Defence: 10 [0EP]; Toughness: +10 [5EP] Features: Alarm 2 (DC 25), Computer, Communications, Disguise, Hidden Compartments, Nitro Injectors, Remote Control [8EP] Powers: Speed 5 (250mph / 2,500ft per Move Action, Feats: Subtle) [6EP] >The Midnight Manor (HQ) [20EP] I've removed one of his example Gadget configurations as the descriptors never really matched well and made it clear that his telepathic resistance relates to the psionic descriptor rather than effects with the Mental Extra. I also updated Redbird's Super-Senses to reflect the updated House Rules for Awareness, freeing up 2PP which I spent on 8 ranks of Intimidate. Obscure 3 (Olfactory & Visual Senses, 25ft radius, Extras: Action 2 [Free], Independent, Flaws: Range [Touch]) [12PP] (Gaseous Cloud) Protection 5 [5PP] (Saturated Muscle Tissue) Super-Senses 1 (Communication Link [Mental, Eve Martel/Sage]) [1PP] Super-Senses 6 (Counters Obscure [Visual Senses, All Descriptors], Infravision) [6PP] Telepathic Resistance 2 (10PP Container, [Passive, Permanent]) [10PP] (Mutant Neurology) [device]Concealment 2 (All Mental Senses, Extras: Duration [Continuous], Flaws: Permanent) [4PP] + Concealment 1 (ESP Effects, Extras: Duration [Continuous], Flaws: Limited [Mental/Psionic Effects], Permanent) [1PP] Immunity 10 (Psionic Effects, Flaws: Limited [Half Effect]) [5PP][/device] DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC20(22*) Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Escrima Sticks Touch DC23(25*) Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) *Sneak Attack Abilities 50 + Combat 32 + Saves 17 + Skills 37 + Feats 41 + Powers 70 = 247/247 Power Points Redbird
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Dul'ce found he could not even muster up a shocked protest as one of the drones turned the ship about to face the oncoming intruders. The main monitor was able to show them in more clarity within a few moments: more needle-like ships like the one they'd destroyed made up the edge of the tide but numbering in the tens of thousands at least. Behind them were vessels of every shape and size, some with similar architecture like freighter sized blades, some with jutting arcs that gave them an uncanny resemblance to the rib cages of many solid species, some so large that the algorithms of his sensors insisted they had to be small moons and not capital ships. Even at a low magnification they blotted out the entire star field from the bridge's display. "...retreat," Faa'et managed quietly before repeating himself in a shout. "Retreat! All power to engines, about-face!" The two drones on the bridge ignored him, stepping away from their consoles and moving in unison to stand unblinking in front of the display. "What?! Get back to your stations! You cannot refuse an order from a Metamorph!" the captain cried in outrage, fingers digging into the armrests of his chair. With a wave of despair that started in his digestion sack and spread outward to his extremities, Dul'ce realized the truth. "The Metamind has assumed direct control," he said softly, shoulders slumping. "We're already dead. The Unity may as well learn what it can." His commanding officer looked between Dul'ce and the approaching, impossible fleet. Sirens wailed across every console on the bridge as multiple targeting locks were detected and confirmed. "Ah. Of course. All glory to the Unity." The words tasted like ashes. Slowly he rose from his seat, followed by Dul'ce as they joined the drones in front of the display. "...we showed that one in the asteroid field, though, eh?" The other Metamorph's eyes smiled slightly as he snorted. "That was pretty good, Capt--" Searing red light engulfed the Theta-Theta-Gamma, reducing the perimeter vessel and its occupants to steam and stray particles along with the asteroids closest to it. The alien fleet continued forward, inexorable.
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The Theta-Theta-Gamma spun on its axis at the drone's instruction, flipping sideways relative to the hurtling chunks of void borne stone. The perimeter vessel emerged from the other side with so little room to spare that Dul'ce swore he could hear the rear hull scraping against the asteroids, his protean face shifting momentarily to cover his eye sockets out of sheer terror. Their pursuer was not so fortunate. The needle ship made no attempt to deviate from its course, only accelerating as it raced toward them at ramming speed but mere moments before it could reach the Grue the asteroids collided on either side of it. The seamless metal strained for a split second before collapsing under the massive weight, crumpling like an aluminum can in an industrial waste compactor. On board the Grue ship, the light representing the unidentified vessel winked out and Dul'ce let out a sound of relief as his eyes reemerged from his temporarily featureless face. "I... cannot believe that actually worked..." "Hah! Never loose faith in the innate superiority of the Unity, my guileless subordinate!" Faa'et crowed, leaning back in his chair and looking immensely pleased with himself, even if his chest was rising and falling a little too quickly for someone as calm as he was pretending to be. "You see, I correctly surmised that--" Before he could continue that thought, Dul'ce's console beeped as another green dot appeared at the far edge of sensor range. Then another. And another. The warning beeps became a steady tone as the multiplying dots became a solid wave of colour sweeping over the monitor.
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Jack of all Blades / Jill O'Cure (5) >Growth Rings (1) >Adventures in Babysitting in Space (1) >Charity Begins at Home (1) >Starting Over (1) >Mystery at Bedside Manor (1) Midnight II (11) >Midnight Dynasty (2) >A Cold Reception (1) >Until You've Crossed (1) >Actions Speak (7) Ghost Girl (1) >Necklance of Ropes (1) Set / Sekhmet (9) >Werewolves Are So Hot Right Now (3) >Extracurriculars (1) >The Spirit of Revolution (5) Give the rollover posts to Midnight again this month to bump his earned PP total and give him the Ref Point, rolling that over to Set afterward.
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With a bottle of water and a paper cup of various legumes procured from the cafeteria, the guest instructor continued to lead the way back around to the school's training facilities. Sipping quietly from his thermos in lieu of total silence, he took them outside onto the school grounds and toward the building which stood over top of Claremont Academy's underground holographic simulator. Whatever specific method he had in mind for teaching it was evidently more involved than a few padded mats and boxing gloves. He stopped briefly to look over the zen garden along the way, keeping his thoughts to himself even as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly with a faint smile.
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"Stand down, Templar," Midnight intoned in the closest thing to an officer's bark his characteristically measured tone could manage. One hand still on the controls of the sled he used the other to flick a bladed throwing disk produced from somewhere in his sleeve to the side. The weapon landed squarely at the tip of the light construct's nozzle, quivering slightly as it bit only a fraction of a millimeter into the blue flames. It wouldn't have stopped the ring powered attack for an instant but the black clad gadgeteer hoped it would at least serve as a visual wake-up call to accompany his words. It was hard to know how far into his own mind the deceptively old soldier had retreated. His eyes never left their tar-like new acquaintance, however. "Elder suggesting society, not primordial entities?" he asked for the benefit of clarification. He wasn't completely sold yet on the parka wearing creature's story but then if was generally his role on the team never to be completely sold on anything.
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Set opened his mouth to rebut some point but stopped mid-breath and pressed his lips closed into a thin line. After a beat he raised a pointing finger to accompany his second attempt before hesitating and stopping short again, instead placing his hands on his hips. "You know," he said finally, "tis customarily the deity who helps the mortal with the existential crisis of self-worth, as opposed to the other way around. Not that I'm complaining." Running fingers through his dreadlocks just above the scalp the godling sighed and took a seat on the edge of the rooftop. "The entire day began falling apart when I decided to wear pants," he confided huffily with a gesture to his bright crimson trousers. "I had a strappy little black number all picked out but nay, give the pants a chance, I thought. What could go wrong, I thought."
