Raveled

SM on Bluff for 22, trying to convince the old woman that Oh No, Monsters! Starlight's Notice check, vs DC 15 & 25. (1d20+12=21)

Liz swore under her breath. She couldn't leave Mrs. Furrows out there, but she couldn't risk going out in her current state. It would cause a panic, or induce a heart attack or stroke in the poor woman! But if her husband was really getting violent... Well, as they say. Set a monster to catch a monster. "Mrs. Furrows, I don't think it'd be a good idea. I'm really sick, I don't want you to... Oh god, what is that?" She sucked in a breath and let loose with a full-throated scream worthy of a horror starlet. She shot out a blast of mystic energy, smashing her front window and spraying glass everywhere. The heroine took a running dive through the gaping hole and immediately made a U-turn, smashing into the Furrows' apartment. She kneeled there, in full Grue warrior mode, eyes hunting for the elderly Hector. "Mr. Furrows," she rapsed out, doing her best to disguise her voice once again. "The monster union is come calling."

Brian looked over the trees, shrugging internally. They all looked like bushes to him, but obviously Gwen saw something special in them, so who was he to cast blame? While his girlfriend was geeking out over plants, he walked over to where several burly men were working an old-fashioned furnace. He exchanged manly slaps on the biceps before hefting a sword almost as tell as he was; he tried swinging it and overbalanced, almost falling over his own feet. After returning it, he selected and tested out a few more, smaller weapons. He actually did pretty well with a pair of handaxes, spinning them each over the back of his hand before flashing them in front of his face, alternating the blows at an invisible point about six inches in front of his face. He grinned as he sped up the motion; if Mr. Archer's training sessions were more like this, he'd enjoy them a lot more! Gwen's call for food broke him out of his weapon-whipping trance. He managed to slow down without drawing blood and handed the weapons back to the smiths, accepting their slow applause with a quick grin and a bow. He walked back to Gwen and threw an arm around her shoulder, giving her a peck on the cheek. He was flushed from the quick work-out, adrenaline still in his system. "Yeah, I could go for some kind of meat on a bone and a mug of something."

Liz's heartrate tripled at the pounding on the door. All the worst senarios flashed through her mind in an instant. The League's coming to kick me off-planet... They're coming to put me in Blackstone... Phantasmagore found me... The Meta-Mind found me!! When she heard her neighbor's frantic pounding, she calmed down a little. At least there wasn't an immediate issue... Except that apparently she had to leave the apartment right away, or someone would die. Liz walked over to the door, resting her (bald, red) head on the wood and forced herself to breathe. She coughed, hoping that any irregularity in her voice would be taken as the flu or something else. "Mrs. Furrows, did you call 9-1-1?"

On the ship, yes it is.

OOC for this thread. Starlight loses her morphing powers and must survive in the city as a Grue! What will she dooooooo?

10:48 AM August 24th, 2011 1480 King Boulevard Apt. 438 Elizabeth Moya, also known as the alien warrior Leyla, also known as the heroine Starlight, was not having a good day. She didn't have any classes at FCU until this evening (MATH 131 and PHIL 120) and had been hoping to get some day-time patrolling in. Something she hadn't taken in account when taking the Freedom League's offer to asylum was just how much time a secret identity took up. 'Living two lives' didn't begin to touch it. So when her alarm clock went off at 7:30, she had dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She had glanced into the mirror before jumping in the shower -- and had almost cracked a tooth as she bit back a scream. The face that was staring back at her was square and masculine, with brick red skin and dull, flat green eyes. It was the same face that oppressed uncounted trillions across the galaxy, the face of a race that wanted to stamp out individuality and free thought throughout the universe. It was the face of a Grue, and for who knows how long it was Liz's face. She had broken from the Meta-Mind and started a new life for herself, and she hated to go back to how she had been. She quickly shook off the shock. It must've been a bad dream or a moment of inattention on her part, but either way it was a quick fix. She concentrated on her bones and internal chemistry and... nothing happened. She tried again and, once again, nothing happened. Oh, no. Oh no no no. Oh, God no. This can't be happening! It seemed like she was... stuck!

Ironclad digested what Protectron was telling them. "You mean that there's living people -- err, aliens -- aboard the Gorgon? Like it was a ship?" It was a hard idea to wrap her head around, but once she did it was obvious. This thing they were standing on was approximately the size of Earth, it was logical that it had inhabitants just like the planet Earth did. But it was another thing entirely to consider what their plans for the Gorgon might mean for its passengers. She hoped rather fervently that they wouldn't meet any of those inhabitants on their little trek -- not only because this whole thing was supposed to be quick and stealthy, but because Ironclad wasn't at all sure that she could go through with a plan to destroy the Gorgon if it meant killing millions, maybe billions of inhabitants. Of course, if that was the only way to save the world...

I'm waiting on IC posts from both you and KD, Archy.

September 3rd, 2011 Lonely Point Naval Base The Lab was an amazing place, a miracle box for any scientist or engineer. It had rooms for experiments, design, and manufacture. It even had offices, dorms, and a cafeteria. It was a fantastic place to work, especially for Jessica Parker. However all those wonderful toys had to fit in a single building in one of Freedom City’s most expensive districts. That meant it lacked any sort of wide-open demonstration area, which was why the young genius was standing in a hanger at the Lonely Point Naval base. All the essential equipment – that is to say, everything that might be needed on short notice and wasn’t duplicated elsewhere on the base – had been moved out and what remained had been stacked up and shoved against the walls, leaving plenty of open space. In the middle of it was a roped-off area, with a miniature park inside that. There was an inch or so of topsoil, with bushes and small trees, their roots still bundled up, placed haphazardly in the space. The soil was mounded up in the very middle and there stood Ironclad in full armor. There were people on the outside of the ropes, standing in small knots of three or five. None of them were really movers or shakers in the city; rather, they were the secretaries and advisors to the movers and shakers. This was outside of the young woman’s normal duties, but this whole scheme was her idea and she didn’t feel that it was right to dump it in someone else’s lap at the last moment. Accordingly she took a deep breath, fixed a smile on her face, and retracted her helmet. “Ladies and gentlemen,†she said, loud enough to cut through the conversations. Once she had everyone’s attention, she continued in a quieter voice. “You have all been briefed on the approaching cosmic threat, so I won’t bother telling you things you already know. Unfortunately, while a great deal of resources are being poured into evacuation. I’d like to take some of the pressure off those preparing the way. To that end, I’d like to present the Lab’s direct contribution to these efforts; a self-assembling shelter.†She walked over to the edge of the artificial garden and picked up a matte black cylinder roughly the dimensions of a stuffed duffel bag. The armored heroine hefted it in one hand, carrying the strange device to the middle of the greenery. She set it down, taking a moment to make sure it was standing straight, then pulled a touch-screen pad from a bit of webbing on the side of the cylinder. She could’ve linked with the controlling computer directly, of course, but she wanted to show how easy it would be to use in the field. “This device,†she said, working on the touch pad as she talked, “contains six nanobot stacks, each holding about five kilograms of microscopic assemblers and dissemblers.†She entered the final command with a flourish and stepped away, retreating to beyond the ropes. The canister glowed blue for a moment, then a silvery goo began leaking out and spreading over the ‘park.’ “They’re designed to look for the sort of complex carbon chains found in living organisms,†Ironclad said as the puddle grew. “It seeks out available materials and then builds whatever solid-shape construction is programmed into its brain.†As the puddle touched trees and bushes, the greenery descended into it without a ripple. Before long a building began to grow out of the goo, matte white and made out of hexagonal panels. “It’s a plastic composite,†Ironclad continued, pride evident in her voice. “It’ll stand up to hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, just about any… err.†Even as the young genius was extolling its virtues, the structure began to melt and deform like hot wax. Ironclad watched as it sank again, her mind already connected to the machine brain controlling the nanites, interrogating it. The simple AI was complaining about heat build-up and structural instability. She was about to cut in and take manual control when the program shifted radically. The silver puddle contracted, flowing up the canister in the center. The whole mass of nanites began to lift itself, extending metallic tentacles into the air. The audience was at least experienced enough with the weird side of life not to panic openly; they merely moved away from the roped-off area, now denuded of greenery, and headed for the exits. Ironclad, though, powered up her thrusters and shot towards the ceiling, hovering among the rafters, evaluating the situation. The heroine loosed a couple of blasts at the thing, more to gauge the reaction than anything else. The high energy particles blasted a pair of holes in the thing’s body and for a moment Ironclad thought it was going to be just that easy; but the pieces flowed back together and the whole was left looking the same as before. Obviously, this one was going to take a little more thought. Ironclad knew the design of the system backwards and forwards. The nanites had no processing power of their own. It was all controlled by the computer in the cylinder. So destroy the cylinder, she told herself. The heroine dropped like a stone, hitting the mass hard. It held firm against her at first, but after a few moments the silvery goo spread up her boots. She pressed her fists against it and it enveloped those, too. She wasn’t worried about the nanites getting to her, the suit was sealed against such things, but she needed to get the beam emitters into it. After a second her gauntlets were engulfed in the stuff and she triggered them. The goo was blown everywhere, clear up the ceiling. The cylinder was suddenly exposed and Ironclad smashed it with one metal fist, plastic and silicon exploding in every direction. Almost instantly, the goo subsided and spread out into a large pool, held in place only by surface tension. After a few minutes of silence a man in a military dress uniform poked his head into the room. “What in God’s name just happened,†he demanded. Ironclad flicked a blob of nanites off one gauntlet. “I miscalculated,†she said. “There wasn’t enough materials to make the shelter, and the nanites were burning up too much of what was here for furl. So the whole thing went into scavenger mode.†“And that makes a goo monster,†the military man said incredulously. “Apparently!†The potential for a ‘gray goo’ scenario hadn’t damped Ironclad’s enthusiasm for the project. “I’ll redesign the code and we’ll try this again next week, okay?â€

Mega's Sense Motive, vs DC 25. (1d20+20=33) Nope!

Zealot's wave of brilliant energy burst over the floor of the warehouse, heading straight for the alabaster woman in golden armor. She strode through it calmly though, the crackling power crawling up her body and over without apparently affecting her. She gathered a brilliant orb of energy in one hand, holding it high above her head. "You claim the powers of God," she cried out dramatically, "but you fight the servants of the Light!? Feel the power of true righteousness!" She flung the energy at the villain, but once again missed -- coming closer this time, but not actually hitting him.

Actually, looking closer at it, Starlight has Impervious Toughness 10, Limited to Energy. Zealot's energy wave would just roll right over her without leaving a mark. No need to make the save or reroll it.

Arcturus managed to open the door without any of the squealing that old hinges normally produced; either his luck was holding or the mysterious guitarist took care to perform some basic maintenance. Starlight stood ready to follow him, but a moment before he could move she grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. "Look," she hissed, reaching past him to point at the rows of chairs. It took a moment for Arcturus' eyes to adjust to the darkness and the glare of the spotlight, but before long he could make out human figures sitting in most of the seats. They were all dirty and disheveled and all held themselves unnaturally still -- it didn't take the Master Mage to deduce that it was a theater full of zombies.

You could lose a point of Base Def and pick up a rank of Dodge Focus. Mechanically it'll be exactly the same, but you'll save 1 PP. Likewise, his exotic saves are a bit above par; you could trim a point or two there. With his Acrobatics score and SM, he can get up as a free action anyway, so Instant Up is just overlap.

Brian glanced between the bracelet and the bangle a few times. For his money the snake was cooler, but then it wasn't really for him, was it? He put the snake bracelet back and picked up the bangle. He haggled with the vendor for a few minutes he bought it with cash. Returning to Gwen, he took her arm and slipped the jewelry on, leading her back out into the sunshine so the light sparkled on it. Brian smiled to see it on her, the pale metal complimenting her pale skin. "It looks great on you," he said. "Then again, pretty much anything looks great on you, babe."

Brian sniffed at how high he didn't get and turned to rummage through the box of ratty dolls. After a minute he came up with a half-horse creature, with a box in one hand and a harp in the other. He turned it over a few times to make sure the stitching wasn't coming loose anywhere, then handed it to Gwen. "Your knight's mighty steed," he said, grinning. They walked past most of the rest of the games, coming to where several craftspersons were displaying their wares. He wandered into what looked like a silversmith's stall, picking up a bracelet fashioned to look like a snake wrapped around itself several times. He held it up for Gwen to see. "What do you think about it," he asked.

Jessica armored down, revealing herself to be wearing an HIT tee-shirt several sizes too large and flannel pajama bottoms. She raised a hand to rub at her eyes, glancing once again at Blake's tentacle-fantastic form. "Apparently I'm not dreaming," she said. "Or if I am, I really do need a therapist." She waved a hand and the force fields disappeared, no longer maintained by the concealed emitters. She walked past Kid Cthulhu and seated herself on the couch, taking a moment to look him over thoroughly. "Alright," she said, her voice flat. "Tell me the whole story."

Jessica Parker had paid top dollar for her penthouse apartment and it had beyond state-of-the-art security systems; it had the sort of security that only a young genius could have devised. When Kid Cthulhu made his spectacular entrance, Jessica was a floor above him, sleeping soundly. The yell woke her up, though, and she linked in to the apartment's surveillance system, only to see a tentacled horror burst into her living room! Her decision was immediate, and she activated the suite's defense systems, looking to sandwich the intruder in a grip of invisible force fields. Rolling out of bed, she snatched her titanium wristband from her bedstand and slipped it on. From there it was only a thought and she was enveloped in her armor. She literally flew down the stairs, balanced on her thrusters as she aimed her wrist cannons at the tentacled thing. "Stand down, you... you..." She set down a thud, staring at the horror that had invaded her apartment. "Blake? Is that you?"

Starlight's ranged attack check, vs. Zealot's Def. (1d20+10=19) Le sigh.

Likewise, Clad doesn't speak the lingo.

Glowstar's Str check. (1d20+3=18) Hah!

Brian rolled his eyes at Vicky, doing his best to ignore what the tightly-laced top was doing to his best friend's girlfriend's figure. That was a chain of association that put her firmly outside of oogling territory, and the young man was determined to keep it that way. He focused on Gwen instead, holding her hand firmly as they wandered through the fair. As Vicky ran back with her new purchase, his eye fell on something more common at a state fair: an old-fashioned 'test your strength machine,' the kind with a mallet and a bell. He winked at Gwen and walked over, rubbing his hands together. He exchanged some banter with the operator and took the mallet, holding above his head and posing dramatically before bringing the oversized hammer down with all his strength.

Ironclad tensed up as soon as they arrived on the Gorgon, but she began to relax when minutes passed without anything happening. Before long they were at the lip of the snake's 'mouth' and were just about ready to descend into the depths, to retrieve the all important nanite-materials they had come for. The young genius took one of the magnetic containment bottles from Protectron and was in the process of checking it over when she sensed the transmission coming from the Gorgon! Or maybe not the creature itself, but certainly from a place within it. She didn't understand what language was being spoken, but perhaps someone else would? Neon blue lights bled from her mask as she connected to her allies in turn, transmitting the same message to each. "Do you understand what they're saying," she whispered each time, even though the volume of the words would hardly matter. "It's like nothing I've ever heard."

Brian snuggled up next to Gwen, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. As the movie started to play, he kissed the top of her head. "I'll always be here to protect you," he said quietly. He gripped her hand, interlocking their fingers as the movie began to play. "I'm never going to leave you." He leaned in and kissed her, just about oblivious to the movie itself. He could feel the heat building in his body and became totally intoxicated with the scent and feel of Gwen, bringing his other hand around to cup the back of her head.