Gizmo
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Trevor gave Erin a flat, reproachful look as he tugged on his pants. "Strongly considering it." Looking out the small part in the window's curtains, he could easily imagine Erin carrying them down to the parking lot and their rented car. While viable, it seemed like a poor long term solution. "Know how you feel about talking to socialites? That's what talking to Janet Pryce-Hunter is like for them. ...or me. Sometimes." Waving the omission away with a minute gesture of his free hand he took another sip of coffee. It wasn't like every conversation with his mother was some sort of competition but she did have a way of making one feel out of their proverbial weight class. "Her expectations for my success wooing you were... pragmatic."
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Pinching the bridge of his nose, Trevor took a quiet breath. "Intense. Yes." Picking up a carafe of a dark, fragrant roast from the room service cart he rummaged about for a cup without attempting to conceal his agitation. "Here for Grand Prix, too, I assume. Vacation? Could as easily be hosting art exhibition or running for office this week. Hnnh." Taking a long pull from his coffee as he walked over to their partially unpacked luggage, he began hurriedly laying out an outfit for himself on the bed. "Sorry. Blindsided. No exit strategy. ...besides window."
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"Jiminy Cricket," LaMarr muttered with the vehemence of a curse as the drone's armor retracted in a sickening reveal of Terminus mutilation. There was a beat of deliberation before Wail grunted flatly and shook his hands once, flicking blood away. "This conversation isn't over, son, but you're not wrong. Let's save these people." Taking a deep breath, he called out in a voice that carried throughout the entire factory district, vibrating through the ground close by. "My name is Wail and I need you all to stay clam! We're here to bring you home to your families! Just head for the flying man in white and armor. He oughta be tough to miss."
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"Really?" Janet gave Erin an unconcealed look of assessment tinged with some surprise. She seemed to pay the most attention on the younger woman's face but wasn't shy scanning the rest of her, bathrobe not withstanding. "I hadn't realized you were still around, dear. Lovely to finally meet you, then." There was something of Trevor's restrained mannerisms in the smile she gave Erin but it was genuine enough. Trevor for his part was having his stoicism sorely tested as he looked between the two women, trying to intuit the correct course of action with little success. It had been years since he'd actually stood face to face with him mother, though they'd spoken over the phone or even video calling marginally more frequently. He certainly hadn't anticipated her appearing during the time he and Erin had set aside away from other people and distractions. And consideration he'd given the scenario of the two meeting had definitely assumed they would all be wearing pants. Janet turned her level, analytical gaze on her son. "I would have said he looks more like his father every time I see him," she told Erin. This time she sounded more like Alex, wryly gossiping to a close friend about a cute boy. It was easy to imagine her quickly slipping into any social circle and becoming the center of attention. "Perhaps I don't need to know quite how much, though, hm? Shall I give you a moment to dress before anything else?" "Yes," Trevor answered immediately, hand already on the hotel room door, closing it as quickly as could be construed as polite. "That would be good." Shutting the door with the audible click of the automatic lock, he turned to lean against the foyer wall and spread his hands outward to Erin in a silent gesture of helpless disbelief.
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Wail watched the Omegadrone address the fae soldier with heavy breaths, broad chest rising and falling visibly as his jaw clenched and teeth ground. The brief pause in battle was enough for his knuckles to begin protesting their misuse, bloody from pounding against the otherworldly metals of his target's armor, but more than that the muscles of his arms burned with the insistence for renewed, untempered motion. He hadn't been the angry young man who preferred to fight first and ask question later, however, not for decades. The incongruities of the scene forced their way through the red hot bars of his anger as he forced himself to see and think. Omegadrones didn't talk, they certainly didn't deliver warnings nor did they discriminate in their targets. They didn't attempt to reason with their opponents. They didn't travel alone. Something was very, very wrong about the entire situation and fury could not, could never take precedence over truth. "You've got one chance to explain yourself before I let loose until you're dust on a factory wall," he grated out in the drone's direction, big hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Make it good."
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Grunting as he stepped in front of the eldritch attack, Wail bent his knees to steady his stance. The ghost's phantasmal bullets hurt worse than the real things, sizzling through clothes and against superdense flesh. The building's stability wasn't quite what Wail would have liked but he was even less keen to chance taking too many more hits of that sort. "Let's not get into a war of attrition with a dead boy, son." Taking a deep breath, the earsplitting educator let out a bass note that shook the walls around them, the opposite force pushing footprints into the floor beneath him. The attack hit the now corporeal specter like a hammer hitting a nail on the head and continued past to blow a sizable hole in the wall. "Don't make us fight you, Darius!"
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The raven haired woman across the hall noticed Erin's stare immediately, picking up her newspaper with an immaculately manicured hand and tucking it under the arm of her sleek, daringly cut black dress before returning the look with a cool confidence. "Can I help you, young lady?" she asked in a crisp, precisely enunciated English, lips defined with dark lipstick and set between high cheekbones turning upward very slightly as though anticipating an amusing response. Perfect posture brought her level with Erin to look her in the eyes and the toned outline of the body beneath the dress did nothing to dissuade the vacationing security chief of the perceived resemblance. Ears pricking up from around the corner of the suite's foyer as he exited the bathroom, Trevor slid on his sunglasses with one hand while securing the towel around his waist with the other. Coming around behind Erin and into view of the open door, the taciturn young man was left without words momentarily as he saw their fellow hotel guest, his mouth hanging barely ajar while his hair dripped over his bare shoulders. The older woman blinked twice with her own look of surprise, raising a hand to the side of her face while otherwise retaining her composure. "Trevor?" There was a beat before he managed to reply is a strained voice, "...Mother?"
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"It's like you really understand the inner-me," Erik agreed with an exaggeratedly dreamy sigh before giving Mara a flash of a grin and turning back to unpacking the cooking equipment. Yolanda meanwhile gave the engineer a curt nod and scampered over to the collection of branches and sticks to look over them with an adjudicating eye. Once the chili was simmering over the campfire, Erik straightened from his work and dusted off the knees of his pants. Walking over to where his sister was unpacking sleeping bags, he asked, "Hey, hermanita, you mind keeping an eye on Eden for a few minutes? There's something I want to ask Min about." His tone was as light and casual as ever but a faint clearing of his throat and a careful neutrality were easy to spot for his sibling. Raising one eyebrow, Ellie glanced over to the dryad then back to her brother. "Sure, of course. Anything I should know about?" "Kinda depends. I'll let you know, yeah?" With a small smile, he rubbed the back of his neck and sauntered across the campsite. "How about showing off some of that forest you're always telling me about, florecita?"
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Jury-Rigged Ritual: Super Senses 7 (Detect Necromancy [Visual; Penetrates Concealment, Tracking 2]) [7PP] Knowledge [Arcane Lore] Check vs. DC 22. (1d20+15=35)
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Evidently either not bothered by the aftereffects of Erin's makeup from the night before or too tactful to mention them, Trevor bent over and kissed her on the shoulder before lying back down his one hand behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. "Sorry. Blame the sun." He closed his eyes momentarily but he knew despite a silent yawn there wasn't much chance of getting back to sleep. He'd have felt worse if they didn't both know that Erin needed barely half the sleep an average person did but he understood the appeal of finally getting a chance to sleep in. "Mmh. Lots to do today. Could stay in bed for a while, though." Propping himself up on one elbow just enough to trail the fingers of his other hand along Erin's spine. "Want breakfast brought up?"
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Allowing himself to be pulled down from his seated position, Trevor sank slightly into the hotel bed's exceptional mattress. "Hate to be wasteful," he agreed with a serious face, turning halfway toward Erin so that his chest moved to meet her palm. "Know how I feel about efficiency." Craning his neck to kiss the muscular young woman with an urgency that belied his casual tone he endeavored to live up to his reputation for memorability. The next morning Trevor awoke as sunlight reflecting off of the water shone through a gap in the window's curtains. Stretching slightly and shifting the bedsheets about his feet he brushed a few dark strands of hair from his eyes, his metahuman eyes adjusting almost immediately from sleep. He was a little stiff and had to admit he probably could have used a few more hours of sleep but nevertheless he found the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.
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Wail Standard Action: Sonic Wail vs. Ghost; All-Out Attack 5. (1d20+13=31) That's a DC 33 Toughness Save.
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Trevor made a murmured sound of agreement as he slipped his shirt from the back with a quick, contained motion, dropping it to the floor beside the bed before placing a hand on Erin's hip. Continuing his methodical probing for sun spots just above her collarbone, his lips curved slightly against her skin. "Got a few looks." There was always an undercurrent of competition at high society parties and their unexpected display on the dance floor had had the satisfaction of a decisive victory. "Glad you enjoyed yourself. Happy belated anniversary."
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"I'm lucky you're cute," Trevor corrected in the perfect deadpan that meant he thought he was being awfully funny. He'd gotten a second wind sometime during the last party at which they'd made an appearance when the syncopation of the five piece band performing there had demanded a trip to the dance floor and the scent of Erin's subtle perfume layered over her own was burning away the cobwebs of weariness. Smoothly pulling down the zipper a touch more slowly that was really necessary he returned the kiss on Erin's exposed shoulder. "Think that might be a freckle there," he hypothesized gravely, leaning in to trail a line of kisses toward her neck. "Best to be sure."
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Trevor had to lean against the wall to keep his balance as he slipped off his tapering shoes and undid the first few buttons of his deep royal purple dress shirt. "Vacation. No schedule," he promised with a note of a soft chuckle in his voice. There was so much to see and do in the city during the Grand Prix that actually trying to plan a detailed itinerary had seemed a futile exercise. Rolling one stiff shoulder, the dark haired young man sat on the side of the bed and finished untucking and unbuttoning his shirt. "Sit up and I can probably be convinced to help with dress," he offered, raising one eyebrow.
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It took the space of several more blows for the drone's words to even register to Wail as actual sentences. The incongruity of an Omegadrone speaking at all was enough to throw off rhythm of his righteous fury. The suggestion that this was somehow the eccentric heraldic knight who had accompanied him to this place in search of kidnapping victims was patently absurd. Kidnapped by fae. Magical illusionists. The thought penetrated the sharp focus on his anger and made him abruptly aware of the contingency of soldiers still standing nearby. Immediately he was reversing his grip on the armored abomination pinned beneath him and rolling to his feet. One wrenching motion carried the drone in an overhand arc as Wail hurled his opponent into the fae formation with the force of a bunker buster, a foundation rattling roar accompanying the unwilling projectile.
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Set bristled at the ba's tone, his snout curling into a slight snarl as he uncrossed his arms. "You know of me, little thing. Tis a difference." Sniffing haughtily, he used one hand to smooth the fur on his brow. "Besides, which of us has opposable thumbs, hm?" "The liesmith is my concern, not thine," Sekhmet told the spirits firmly, annoyed on principle by the familiar tone being taken by the most talkative of the souls. "It would be wise to address me, Hafet-Re. Can thou tell us of nothing more than 'a pull'?" The lioness looked back at the dismembered mummies. "You illuminate naught we did not know already." "A minor ritual may provide direction, oh Lady of Slaughter," Set suggested, rolling his shoulders as though preparing to lift a great weight. With considerably more venom he added, "Assuming no one objects to accepting my considerable expertise on principle."
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Erik was crestfallen as he raised a can reverently. "But... beans!" he protested, giving each of the women a wounded look in turn before finally loosing his deadpan as he met Yolanda's frank look of askance. "Kidding! I'm kidding. Yes, I brought more than just beans. I've got everything I need to make chili plus a load of hot dogs and things in the bigger cooler. Give me some credit." "Well, I'm sure you remembered everything for the s'mores, then," Ellie cut in while simultaneously giving Mara a wry look as she mimicked the inventor's thumbs up gesture. The feigned expression dissolved even faster than her brother's had and the taller girl knocked her hip gently into her girlfriend on the way over to the bags. The elder Espadas raised a finger in the air and opened his mouth before pausing. "...er." He looked down at the can in his hand then back up. "Beans?" His sister lifted her backpack off of the ground and produced a bag of marshmallows from within it. "Got you covered, hermano. As always."
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"Can see if Redbird's up for giving one a set of wings when we get home," Trevor suggested, sticking his arms out to mime such a thing and immediately regretting it as the board veered toward Erin's forcing him to hurriedly correct. The sudden tug on the sail started of a scrambling dance to regain his balance and ultimately ended with another calamitous splash. Trevor was left treading water with as much dignity as he could muster. "...look at cars. Good idea." The rest of the day was filled with the same mad dash from place to place and activity to attraction. There were uncounted things vying for the vacationing couple's attention and they intended to cover as many of them as possible. Trevor managed to restrain himself from actually attempting to work on any of the cars they got to see, even if he remained convinced that he could have done a superior job on at least three of them. There were ample opportunities to sample more of the local cuisine and a wide range of performers were on hand for entertainment. It was well into the night before they returned to the hotel, party attired somewhat rumpled after a series of increasingly extravagant soirées held on the massive yachts in the harbour. With his jacket hung over one arm and the other around Erin's waist, Trevor undid the knot of his loosened tie and let the silk hang freely around his neck. Once the door was closed behind them, he tossed his sunglasses onto the nearby endtable and gave her a tired smile. "So. Monaco, hm?"
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Wail will do the only reasonable thing in this situation and hurl the Omegadrone bodily at the remaining fae soldiers. Free Action: Maintain Grapple Standard Action: Throw Omegadrone at Fae Soldiers; All-Out Attack 5. (1d20+13=14) Hero Point: Throw Omegadrone at Fae Soldiers; All-Out Attack 5, HP Reroll. (1d20+13=16) That ends up being 26. Jeez. Anyway, that's with +13 Strength and Harrier's +12 (+11 with the bruise) Toughness. Adjudicate the impact as you will!
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Toughness Save vs. DC 30. (1d20+13=19) Haha, woof. Tell you what, I could reroll that with a HP, but I'll leave it to you whether it would be better to leave the result toward the end here. EDIT: Toughness Save vs. DC 30; HP Reroll. (1d20+13=29)
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Much as he generally advocated preparation for the worst Trevor wasn't overly keen to pile on the proposed safety equipment before heading out. Fortunately it hadn't taken much to convince the instructor that the obviously athletic couple could handle themselves reasonably well if it came down to it and he was soon following Erin out onto the water. It took the motorcyclist a little longer to catch onto the basics as he forced his body to accept what his brain was telling it, that there were no wheels and certainly no solid ground involved. Eventually he'd found enough control to catch up to where Erin had tipped over, skidding more conservatively around the surface. "Better than flying, at least," he called as she righted herself.
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Jack of all Blades (2) >Spring Thaw (2) Jill O'Cure (2/2 = 1) >Spring Thaw (2/2) Midnight II (13) >The Black Rainbow (2) >Grand Prix (11) Wail (7) >Your Spirit Lives On (2) >The Sun Never Sets (3) >Walking a Crooked Mile (2) Ghost Girl (2) >Party of Mysteries (2) Set (12) >Set Up (5) >Under Wraps (7) After rolling Midnight and Jill's posts up to Jack there should be enough to get Wail and Set each past the 15 threshold. The Ref Point can go to Set as well.
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"Strange happenings indeed, haha!" Set agreed, fur covered ears twitching in apparently amusement as he considered the growing flock. "You lot really aren't supposed to just be flapping about in this era, not that I'm have much room to criticize!" There was a beat of realization as the godling's snout crumpled in a look of annoyance. "...I am going to be blamed for this." Sekhmet tilted her head to one side, equal parts quizzical and wary. "Why? Tis not thy work, betrayer. I have been watching thee too closely for that." "Yes, well, actual guilt has rarely had much to do with it," came the petulant reply as Set crossed arms across his bare chest huffily. "You had best start from the beginning, ba." The latter was less a request than a degree, some of the carefree swagger fading in favour of a more traditionally divine disposition.
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Quietly letting out a resigned breath as they reached the crowded sand, Trevor picked up his pace to keep up with the enthusiastic Erin. They'd been extremely thorough with the sunblock but it was difficult not to feel paranoid caught exposed between the glaring rays and the pristine sand. Catching himself before he could reflexively release a cloud of midnight mist into the air, the tall American instead focused on the rental shed. "At least they have engines," he remarked with a glance at the jetskis moored nearby, his tone half-joking. "If you're windsurfing, though, so will I. Can't be too difficult." There was bound to be some crossover between steering a motorcycle with one's knees and maneuvering a floating plank by leaning all about or so he attempted to convince himself.
