Raveled

Starlight is going to be using Gather Information untrained. Yay for Charisma. Starlight's Gather Information roll. (1d20+4=9) Bah. Not nearly enough. :facepalm:

Ironclad So, when checking my math on this month's edit request, I noticed that the amount of PP spent on Skills on Ironclad's sheet is different than the amount listed in the math round-up at the bottom of the sheet (23 PP vs 31 PP). After adding everything up, it seems that 23 was the correct number. Altogether it means that Ironclad had 3 PP free, not 2. I'm going to spend all 3, but if my math is off let me know and I can adjust. :arrow: All of Ironclad's points are going into Skills. 7 ranks in Know/Physical Sciences and 5 ranks into Craft/Chemical. Educated by Supercape

Glowstar :arrow: All of Glowstar's points this month are going into exotic saves. 2 ranks each into Fort, Will, and Ref. Purged of excess Terminus energy by Trollthumper.

Starlight tensed when the young girl thrashed to wakefullness, but there really wasn't anything she could do. The alien heroine put a hand on the girl's shoulder, willing some of the healing energy of the Light into her to sustain her, and then turned away. "I am... not familiar with the name Dr. Savong," she admitted, "but I will search for it." Starlight's feet left the ground and she levitated towards the room's window, one hand on the latch. "I shall meet you again in front of the Sentry Statue, in two hours?"

Starlight sprawled in the single back seat of the rumbling car, leaning back with 'his' arms spread. It would be easy to misinterpret him as a man at his ease, especially how he was chewing on a vile black cigarillo, but his eyes darted from place to place, never resting, catching everything. As the panicking civilians reached their car and tried to commandeer it, he leapt out the back with a swirl of his poncho. "Feel free to take it, pilgrims," he growled, eyes slitted, "but I'm feeling a mite thirsty. So I'm gonna go into town. And if Old Finn's boys want to stop me, well." He swept the poncho back and rested a hand on a gleaming, ivory-handled revolver. "They're welcome to give it a try." With that the hero-cum-cowboy walked into town, long strides eating up the ground.

Starlight frowned at the inert pile of pink goo sitting at her feet and for a moment it seemed like she hadn't heard Synth's comment. After a moment though, she snapped out of it and nodded to the other shapeshifter. "You'll have to lead," she said, floating into the air as the power of the Light buoyed her up. "The Light does much for me, but I cannot follow a scent like that." She moved forward, following Snyth closely as the heroines set off. "By the way, I am Starlight."

Brian thought about it from that perspective. He knew, intellectually, that he had it rather good; a full ride to a good school, friends who didn't judge him fro who his parents had been, and he even had a... well, a complicated sort of thing with Gwen, which was a lot better than not having anything at all! He still missed his old friends, but would they even recognize what he had become, what he did and why? How would he explain it to them? Well, certainly not Mr. Murdock's way, that was sure. Brian didn't want to be ruled by something that happened in a different dimension or so long ago. But wasn't he doing that already? Brain frowned and sat back, rubbing his nose. He was trying to be a hero because his parents had been villains. He was letting his life be ruled by what his parents did decades ago! But if he didn't base his actions on what his parents did, why should he be a hero? Mr. Murdock thought that the fact that the world was beautiful and wonderful and worth defending was enough reason, and was he wrong? Brian would certainly try to stop anyone who would hurt his friends or parents! Could he extend that sort of thinking to the world world, defending it because it was worth having around? Well, it wasn't the worst philosophy in the world. The teen stood up and offered Murdock his hand. "Well, it was nice to talk to you, Mr. Murdock. You've given me some things to think about."

From the mouth of babes...

Okay, Ironclad's going to unlock the patient doors for Silhouette and turn off the security cameras when she goes into a room. TT, can I find out what exactly the club-attacker did at the Center? Was he an orderly, a nurse, a janitor, what?

Ironclad's helmet stayed immobile and fixed on the hostages, while inside she rotated the sensorium display between the two approaching criminals. Which one, which one, which one!? They both moved like humans, their voices both registered properly... But one's temperature didn't change! The one holding the gun on Ironclad was as unchanging and hollow as blow-up figure; the one with the hostages was the real deal and the real threat. "Sorry to disappoint," Ironclad said, bounding forward and reaching for the real Looking Glass with servo-driven strength, "but there's already a banking crisis and if we allow large withdrawals like this, it'll just get worse."

Uuuuuuh let's go with Sense Motive. Ironclad's Sense Motive check, vs Bluff DC 24. (1d20+8=21) Well, did better than I thought I would, but still not quite enough. to save the day! Ironclad's going to try and grapple (the real) Looking Glass. Weapon Array set to Enhanced Strength and Power Reserve is set 2 pts into Flight, 8 into S-Str. Ironclad's melee attack check, vs. Looking Glass' Def. (1d20+10=19) Meh. Probably a miss, but just in case. Ironclad's Grapple check, vs LG's opposed Grapple. (1d20+24=40) Woot. If that doesn't work, Interposing for the hostages if LG gets a shot off.

Time to spend that HP! Stunting off the suit's Sensor Array. Super Senses 14 ( Infravision, Analytical Visual Senses [All], Radius Visual Senses [All], Counter All Illusion [Visual], Counter Concealment [Visual], Extended Visual Senses [All] [100 ft increment]) [11/14PP]

Ironclad stomped to a halt, steel-shod feet clanging nosily on the stone tiles of the central area. She moved slowly and with exaggerated care, raising her hands in the air and crouching slightly, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible when wearing a state-of-the-art battlesuit. "Okay, okay," she said. "No reason for anyone to do something they'll regret in the morning..." While she tried to sooth the supercriminals, the young genius' mind raced at incredible speed. She quickly identified the woman -- both the women, in fact -- as on Looking Glass, a member of the (very) loose coalition of supercriminals that called themselves the Thieves' Guild. Looking Glass herself was more known for mirror-based illusions than duplication. All of that meant there was a very good chance at least one of the hostage-takers wasn't really there. So the question was, which one was the fake? Ironclad's suit quickly rearranged itself as she considered how to test the images without getting any closer. She raised both her arms and a panel surreptitiously irised open on either gauntlet. A thin infrared beam projected from both arms, landing on the women in front of her. Normally these beams carried information in truly staggering quantities, but right now they only carried one thing -- heat. A real object would heat up, even just a couple of degrees. But an illusion, something crafted by an outside sentience to fool her, hopefully wouldn't know to respond properly.

Probably whatever's publicly available. Well-Informed + Online Research + Auto 25 Computers check.

Ironclad's Ini. (1d20+5=17) Yeah, no. So are those minions Clad's facing, TT?

"Excuse me, Ms. Parker! Uh, hello! Excuse me?" Jessica Parker walked on for several more steps before it clicked that someone was talking to her. Being not even twenty years old and in charge of something like the Lab could be a head trip, at times. She turned to see a young man in wrap-around glasses and a heavy jacket and gloves, waving to get her attention. He looked like a reporter, a deduction the tape recorder in his hand reinforced. She was leaving the glass-and-steel edifice of the Lab itself for some food, but she altered her path toward him. "Yes, can I help you?" This man was really bundled up, in overlapping layers of coat and sweater and hat and scarf. She could barely see any exposed flesh. It was cold outside, but it wasn't that cold, surely? Maybe he was just used to a warmer climate. "Ms. Parker, I was just hoping you could comment on something one of your colleagues said." He held out the recorder and the top popped open to reveal a tiny screen; apparently it was some kind of flip-top, hand-held device. It was very interesting, and Jessica took note of the design as she stepped closer for a better view. "I really can't comment on something that one of my Lab-mates said, but I'm happy to give you my own opinion on a subject. What did you have... in... miiii..." The young woman's eyes locked on the screen and couldn't look away. She trailed off as the psychedelic assault overwhelmed her mind; in a few moments she went weak at the knees and began to fall. The 'reporter' rushed to grab her around the waist and an errant arm knocked his sunglasses off. He let them fall as he glanced down at the device, flipped it over, and pulled a switch on the underside. There was a crackling, a rainbow spread out to cover them, and then they were gone with a bang of inrushing air, leaving just the sunglasses behind.

Ironclad's not so good at this whole "investigation" thing, it seems.

Do either the rocker or the attacker show up as former or current patients?

Ping.

"And the sweetest, obviously," Jessica retorted. She walked into the apartment, looking are carefully. "Very nice place you have for yourself, Mara. I take it living in an actual, intended domicile rather than a repurposed warehouse agrees... with..." She stumbled to a halt in the sitting area as her eyes finally came to rest on the long, involved equation covering one entire wall. Her eyes dilated as she took it in and for a moment her mind disengaged from the conversation entirely, rising to the exalted realms of pure math. Then she was back and she purposefully turned away from the board and faced Mara. This was a social visit, dammit, there'd be time for physics later! "So! How do you like being the boss of your own company?"

... Man, if this was a tabletop group, you would so pick up a free language for that roll, at least for the scene. Okay, you can tell that most of the weird, unreadable writing is mostly alechmical necromantic workings, breaking down the structure of some substance and tracing its abilities. The necromancer's stuff is pretty standard, but it's mixed in with what looks like musical notation. You get the idea that with the proper rituals, this magic could let even a half-decent musician control a veritable army of undead!

Ironclad Science Shenanigans (also GM) Cold Front (also GM) Scrier's Masquerade Seal of Sedna Public Anomie Cup of Gigawatts Hot Goods Glowstar School Counselor Green Things The Stars Say That... Starlight Yanks in Tanks Double Pink Freaks and Geeks Playing to a Packed House Light Lunch GM Science Shenanigans (also IC as Ironclad) Cold Front (also IC as Ironclad)

Starlight sauntered down the gangway, looking... well, nothing like she normally did. The heroine had thought long and hard about the few Western movies she had seen and considered a possible look for herself while the team was in Texas. After some experimentation (involving several mirrors stacked on top of one another, since M apparently didn't furnish his zeppelins with full-length mirrors) she'd settled on a classic look; long legs, a harsh, leathery face, ragged clothes with a poncho thrown over it all, a squashed and abused hat, and several days of stubble. "He" planted his feet on the dusty ground and chewed something vile and black that had the same resemblance to a cigarette that a stiletto had to Excalibur. "Alright pilgrims," he growled. "We're here. Let's get on with this."

Starlight glanced around, suddenly uneasy at the crowd of people gathering around her and the other heroine. Still, best to forge on regardless. She brought the trapped blob-thing closer, letting it hover a few feet away, it's eyes roughly at a level with her own. "I think," she said to Synth, her voice intentionally carrying, "that if someone were to check the video surveillance for the attack, they'd find that their suspect was out of the building at the time. In fact, I'm just about certain that this thing is responsible for it all." She drew it closer, glaring directly into the amorphous beast's eyes. "Now the only question," she hissed at it, quieter now, "is what exactly are you?"

Ironclad hovered in the air a couple hundred feet above a particular warehouse in the Greenbank district of the city. The Lab, that tremendous collaboration of intellects and inventors that made up a good part of her world, had been having problems recently. Specifically some very powerful, very highly-restricted chemicals had gone missing and the young genius had applied herself to the task of hunting them down. After a long afternoon of designing a chemical sniffer, she set out on the town, following the aerial trail until it lead her here. Now she was considering how exactly to go about getting the chemicals back. The heroine's attention was pulled away from the warehouse as she noticed a large figure skulking through the maze of storehouses and old train stations that dotted the district, heading towards the warehouse that she had marked. The battlesuited heroine maneuvered around the figure and dropped to the ground, sneaking up behind him as well as she could. She was a building away when he heard her and spun around. She tensed for a fight -- and then relaxed suddenly. "Wait," she hissed. "I recognize you. You're that hero that teaches in Lincoln, right?"