Gizmo
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Can I get a GM post explaining what Jack sees inside the floating head-ship?
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"Positively intriguing," Winifred murmured to herself, circling around behind Phaedra to get a better look at the wings before remembering her manners with an embarrassed cough. Stepping back where she could address the comely redhead face to face. "Ah, forgive my enthusiasm. It would be fair to say I have an unusually keen interest in physical transformation as of late. I'm sure you didn't come here to be the subject of staring." Noting the somewhat less scientific attention Phae and her costume attracted among the boys she admitted, "Though that may be unavoidable. Ahem. Are all of your limbs proportionally strong, then? If you don't mind my asking? I'd expect you to be in the same rough category as Robin, if so, in terms of sheer power."
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Winifred huffed quietly, though Robin's words did seem to life her spirits marginally. "Promising that the Alkahest might only gravely injure you rather than kill you outright is not quite so reassuring as you may think," she told her roommate in a prim tone that was marred somewhat by a sniffle that had her turning away again for a moment until she'd composed herself once more. "I do still appreciate the sentiment, however." Accepting the cup of water she took a small, careful sip, wary of the tightness in her throat and making a mess from her seated position. Hesitantly she continued, "...I imagine you have some questions about how I came into my current... condition. You've been gracious with my own inquires, I shall endeavor to return the favour."
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As Dimitri turned around he found himself confronted with a three year old in green, lizard themed footie pajama standing in the doorway that led further into the apartment and sizing him up with a small frown. The girl's hair was a light brown the edged toward blonde, messy from the sleep from which she'd evidently been woken and the old draugr fancied he saw something of Min in her features. Squinting and jutting out a lower lips, the child placed her hands on her hips in an exaggerated impression of what she imagined disgruntlement to look like. "You're not Mama or Daddy or Tal'a," she accused fearlessly, staring down the unexplained Russian with dark, forest green eyes.
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The Maserati creaked softly in protest to Erin's pushing but Trevor didn't seem concerned in the least. "If it's crazy, who'd want to be sane?" he questioned philosophically, leaning his cheek into her fingers as he returned the slow kiss. He pondered the question of names for a moment when it was brought up. "Hrm. Hunter-White still works, I think. Completely up to you." He didn't need to say that enough people had expected her to change her name already, nor that it didn't matter one whit to him what she was called. "Could hyphenate my name too? To match?" His own reference for that sort of thing was a little murky; his mother had hyphenated her name and kept it that way even after his parents had separated for largely utilitarian reasons; there were circles in which 'Hunter' carrier some weight.
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Jack of all Blades Initiative: 1d20+9 10 Whelp.
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Trevor communicated his high regard for Erin's commitment to structural integrity with a low sound that rumbled from the back of his throat. "Australia. Could be good." Slipping one hand over her waist and hip in the limited space under the car he leveraged his creeper right next to her's, ignoring the protest of wheels sliding sideways across the concrete. Tipping his head until their noses touched he let his lips part in the broad smile that never appeared unless he knew nobody but Erin was watching. "I am going to marry you," he murmured happily, giving it the reverent weight of a mantra, willed into fact by being spoken aloud.
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Sekhmet coughed awkwardly and suddenly became very interested in the ceiling tiles of Huang's dorm room while Set looked much less excited to hear about the exploits of Phantom and her prodigious legs than he had been at the fair grounds. "Ahem. Aye, well. In the interests of full disclosure I should admit that irking said foulmouthed forbearer hardly registers as a negative possibility," the shorter of the Heliopolians spoke up, as much to steer the conversation away from the sorceress' personal experiences as anything else. The godling wasn't overly given to transparency but making a point to vocally side with Huang seemed worth the departure from form. "While there may be a great many things for which I could reasonably be reprimanded--" Sekhmet made a sound that was to a snort what an elephant was to a warthog. "--it seems a smidge unreasonable to take us to task for something we've yet to actually do."
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"Hark, the refrain of the immigrant," Winifred chimed in dryly but not unsympathetically. Her own father had had the major advantage of a well-off patron when moving to London and even so by the time she'd been born the Wei family had still had to be realistic about which opportunities were beyond their reach and which indignities had to be suffered in silence. She was well acquainted with the frustration that came with learning that a nation rich in resources did not necessarily mean a population free of indignity. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be glib. Though I expect it's meager consolation, in the London of my time, choking on one's own... 'crap' was ofttimes a legitimate concern. Some types of progress are faster than others, it seems. Is this Henry a patron of a narcotic den? I've seen men under the influence become unusually poetical." The alchemist didn't sound particularly judgmental about that; some of her contemporaries had habitually indulged in their own concoctions and insisted with dubious justification that was the secret to their insight and flashes of inspiration.
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"If one paid 'the help' what they were worth they would cease to be 'the help'," Winifred supplied with a cynical world-weariness, posture as straight-backed and prim as ever as she followed a pace or two behind Robin and Riley. "Those wealthy enough to pay others to do unpleasant tasks have little desire to see those others become wealthy themselves. And surely were they no lazy or otherwise fundamentally at fault they would have s more pleasant, lucrative profession and so those low wages are inherently justified, hm? I very much doubt that charming bit of human nature has changed significantly while I was indisposed." She tilted her head in her roommate's direction, seeking confirmation from the only one of them native to both the time period and dimension. "I'm more surprised that you're surprised, Smith."
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Jill probably shouldn't have been nearly so glad that an appropriate target for pummeling had presented itself but it was certainly more cathartic than waiting quietly for the analysis of the portal to be completed. "Sorry, Betty," she called out as she jumped out of the way of the mustachioed malcontent's initial attack, pumping her arms so that the sleeves of her jacket hiked up past the elbows. "Was that fury or furry? Because they make creams for that." Without ever coming to a full stop she launched herself back toward The Beast, just behind the ruby glare of Miss Americana's laser. In contrast, sickly green light crackled around her right hand, swirling about her fingers like a miasma and speckled with dark spots floating throughout the foreboding glow. She planted her palm right on top of the spot marked by the laser blast and the light leapt like lightning into her victim, the veins on his exposed skill turning black and varicose as his own immune system attack him from within. "And maybe you need to think about how you're @#$% with the wrong people!" she shouted right into his face, more loudly than she'd intended.
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Jill O'Cure Move Action: Taunt The Beast; DC 25 with Skill Mastery. Standard Action: Autoimmunity Overload vs The Beast; Power Attack 5: 1d20+5 16 Her autoimmunity overload is: AP: Drain Fortitude 12 (Power Feats: Improved Critical [19-20], Incurable, Reversible, Slow Fade, Extra: Linked) [16PP] + Damage 12 (Extras: Alternate Save [Fortitude], Linked) [24PP] + Nauseate 12 (Extras: Linked, Flaws: Sicken) [12PP] [52PP] (autoimmunity overload) So, after the DC 25 Will/Bluff/Sense Motive check against the Taunt, with the Power Attack that should be a DC 27 Fortitude Save for the Drain Fortitude followed by a DC 32 Fortitude Save for the Damage and a DC 27 Fortitude Save for the Nauseate (which can't inflict anything worse than the 'sickened' condition).
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Winifred looked like what she probably wanted was a hug and a good cry but with previous little chance of her indulging in either she simply gave Robin a small, jerky nod. "Ah, y-yes. Water would be lovely, thank you." She continued to carefully modulate her breathing but the sympathetic advice seemed to have helped a bit. "I... I understand, of course, that they... passed at least a century ago. Everyone... everyone I had ever known or spoken to or-- For me, though, it's been only weeks any and I don't... I don't know that I can afford to let myself even think about it, not with the consequence for my upset being so high." It was an obvious effort for her to force out the words, a stark contrast to her usually precisely enunciated and well organized speech.
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A small frown crossed Trevor's face as he reflexively tried to fill in the blanks from that limited information. "Tt, I'll talk to Aquaria next time she's in, get her side." There was more than just tension between the Deep Ones and Atlanteans, he knew, but any first hand account he'd gotten had been unsurprisingly partisan and he wasn't entirely sure how that enmity translated to those of either culture living on the surface. He doubted their enthusiastic groundskeeper would have started any trouble unbidden but he also suspected it would take much more than a particularly unkind word or invasion of personal space to convince Jessie she needed to defend her friend or vice versa. Still, both Nereid and Glamazon had reasonably good reputations to the best of his knowledge and so long as Jessie hadn't been calling from a holding cell it couldn't have been anything too dire. "Rather hear your plans," he told Erin, something almost like playful teasing creeping into his habitually level voice as he turned his attentions back to the present. "Anywhere in the world, what do you think?"
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"Probably not forever," Trevor agreed easily, setting the torque driver down on the cement and tilting his head into her fingers as much as he could in the cramped space underneath the car. The garage had a more fully equipped repair bay a little further inside but it was currently occupied by an ongoing project and he tended to be a bit of a traditionalist in some respects. "Might never forgive myself for taking you on a honeymoon in Las Vegas, though." There was something to be said for skipping all of the ceremony but he was determined to start off their marriage with something a little more spectacular than a novelty jacuzzi in a theme hotel.
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"Yes, naturally," Winifred agreed amiably with Riley, evidently not picking up on the intended humour. She wasn't exactly looking forward to having to sit through his recitations of poetry or whatever passed for courtship in the dreadfully forward modern day but it seemed like the least she could do as Robin's roommate to facilitate the couple having a good time without encouraging any untoward talk among the student body. Several of the other students were terrible gossips, she'd found and even if she wasn't entirely clear of the... mechanics in this case she wasn't about to tolerate any lewd supposition about her friends. Turning to Robin she continued with more verve, "The whole city is so clean, almost preternaturally so. Certainly the plumbing is much improved but I've seen rubbish receptacles practically everywhere; where does it all go?"
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"I think, um, I think we decided on the, y'know, the lower one," Becky spoke up once Eve had outlined the general idea of what they were looking for, framing the space in question with both hands despite struggling with her own self-consciousness. It helped that Lane had simply listened to the description of the design and placement options, no judgement as she turned to all business. The taller woman turned to her girlfriend, looking for confirmation. "Right? It's supposed to be sort of private anyway and... yeah. I think it makes sense. Does that make sense?" The tattoo artist offered her a reassuring smile as she went about preparing her equipment. "If it works for you two, that's the only thing that matters, especially for something this personal. If this is the first time you've had something done, shall we let the wee terror go first?"
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Bench Toughness Save vs DC 27: 1d20+10 13 Woah, glass jaw! He's staggered and dazed!
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"Oh yeah, 'special' sauce, no way that could go wrong," Erik was laughing as they slowed back down to on-par with the rest of the world. Scooping up his own plates he carried them toward the picnic tables, not coincidentally passing close by Jack and Taylor along the way. "You, uh, sure this is going to be a good idea with your whole... thing?" he asked the vampire under his breath, raising an eyebrow to give a significant look that almost certainly wasn't necessary. The swordsman legitimately had no idea whether or not Jack could digest food outside of his 'liquid diet' or what other dietary issues went along with vampirism but it seemed like there had to be some complications. "I mean, you'd be missing out but we can figure out an excuse or whatever, nobody here's going to be weird about it."
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Erik returned the kiss lightly, looking mollified and a little abashed about his own public display of emotional honesty. It wasn't the deep demonstration he'd felt was necessary after his brief hesitation in the marketplace or the adrenaline-fueled need from after the fight but rather a comfortable expression of companionship. The turn to the more humourous was still welcome and be made a brief show of flexing one arm at the suggestion he remove his shirt. "You know, I can actually do the Zorro thing," he noted casually, amused flirtation replacing abashed self-consciousness on his face within the span of a few words. "Where he cuts of her clothes? Just throwing that out there for consideration."
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"Mark," Trevor replied immediately, even though he assumed it went without saying. He'd been putting off formally asking his friend to perform as best man to postpone the ensuing fit of excitement but it seemed like largely a formality anyway. It was the best man's role to ensure that everything proceeded smoothly, as he understood it, and he knew for a fact Mark had given weddings in general far more thought than he ever had. "Joe." One didn't charge into battle over and over with someone over the years without wanting them close at hand for a different sort of ordeal as well. He mulled over his other options. Corbin wouldn't be available, he knew, and he didn't really have very many close friends, male or otherwise. How necessary was that qualification, he wondered? "Hnh, Redbird." Furion customs were different from their own but it was hard to name anyone else who'd done more to preserve the sanctity of date night and otherwise support both of them since the moment they'd met.
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Between Robin explaining every little thing to her and her own rubbernecking as she got to see more of the City of Tomorrow, Winifred certainly gave the impression of an overawed tourist. Her long white coat proved a match for the cool weather combined with the knitted jumper Cathy had insisted on lending to her despite the alchemist stressing that she couldn't guarantee its return in good condition. Her messenger bag clinked conspicuously with the sound of glass on glass and her black hair was pulled back from her face and up into a bun. Curious as she was about everything around her she did have the good manners to avoid staring at any of the other people on the bus - they were all going out of their way to avoid eye contact with each other, too, and she followed their cue - focusing her attentions on the variety of buildings and other vehicles passing by out the windows. Following closely behind Robin as they exited the sputtering conveyance she sniffed the air lightly. "Ah! It smells much less of manure than I expected from your warnings. Hullo, Smith." She gave Riley a polite wave but was more interested in the gas station and its unknown purpose than in the survivalist.
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It probably said something about Jack that his first instinct upon seeing the conspicuously costumed man and tasting the waves of the same cosmic energy powering the hovering ship radiating off of him his first thought was that this was someone he ought to try and fight. Still, he squelched that impulse for the time being; his priority was finding and rescuing Steve and he couldn't afford to get tied up with somebody who was apparently formidable enough to be a one-man security force. Instead the swashbuckler silently skirted around the rocky outcroppings and the enslaved townspeople with their heads down, edging closer to the vessel itself. Finding a good sized rock and judging its weight for a moment he popped up long enough to whip it through the air to strike one of the cybernetic faux-dinosaurs on the snout. The beast shook violently, trying in vain to find the source of the projectile and occupying both its own rider and the one on the second T-Rex for a moment. That was all Jack needed to make a break for the floating ramps leading into the head-shaped ship, sprinting inside without being spotted.
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Set had likewise begun making urgent cutting gestures across his throat as soon as Huang had turned his ire on Sekhmet, frantically trying to dissuade the dhampir from that particular line of confrontational sass, suspecting that he would be considerably less attractive divested of his innards. The warrior goddess surprised all of them by making a snorting sound that might have been a brusque laugh coming from someone more jovial. "Lionesses be pack hunters, cub. Pride before pride." The shorter Heliopolian blinked. "Well, ah. I was about to blush quite endearingly over that rather aggressive declaration of affection, however... was that wordplay, oh Lady of Slaughter?" Blinking herself, Sekhmet looked from Set to the others in the room, scowling. "A trick of translation, nothing more." She went on to mutter something less coherent about corrupting and poor influences under her breath. "While I realize my credibility may be suffering, Au-- ah, Chosen One," Set added with a wince he couldn't completely conceal, "there was to be no biting. Not after the last time nor until after an opportunity for research and preparation, certainly."
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Trevor considered the question for a moment, pausing in his work. "Maybe? Was always surprisingly prepared but seems like a stretch even for him. Could ask." He wasn't sure how one went about broaching that sort of topic but they weren't going to get very far by guessing. The whole organization of the wedding seemed to be rife with unfamiliar or awkward social situations but that wasn't much of a surprise. "Think Nina would appreciate being asked at the very least, mmh. And groomsmen. Right. How many of those am I supposed to have...?" Neither of them had the largest social circles outside of their costumed identities. He was beginning to feel less like he was planning an intimate ceremony and more like he was fielding a small army.
