Raveled

You don't have to talk to the mods, exactly. Renee de Sans has a similar feat that kicks in whenever people believe he's a feeble old man (as opposed to a century old wizard). Specifically, you'd build it like this: Enhanced Skill 2 (Bluff 4, Diplomacy 4, Flaw: Limited [People who find Punchline funny]) [1 PP] That's basically what Attractive is, except the Flaw is "People who find this character attractive."

Joe opened his door on a young woman, closer to his age than Asli's, wearing a red raincoat and with red eyes. She was huddled in on herself and seemed almost shocked at how large Joe was, but after a moment of stammering she spoke. "Are you Joe Macayle? I'm Anne Robinson, my husband is Greg, he works at the steel plant with you? I... He told me that if I ever need something and the police can't help, I should talk to you. And, well." Anne stopped and took a deep breath breath before continuing. "Greg's missing. The police won't look for him but I know something's wrong, and I just don't know where else to go."

I would probably pump up his Craft/Electronics and Know/Technology to +10 each. That is how he gets his money, after all. Other than that... His exotic saves are a bit high, and I would probably give this concept a lower Wisdom and a higher Charisma, but there's nothing against the rules or particularly broken on this sheet.

Nothing magical.

Miras took a breath and nodded curtly, zipping away as she folded space around herself. The terrorist was practically stripped down; the only thing she was carrying was more bullets and a keychain with a plastic flower on it. The flower matched one used on the trucks of a national florist franchise; several of which were parked in the underground garage, she slowly realized. She ran over to one and yanked it open, and the color slowly drained out of her face. "Richard, they're full of bombs." The floor of the vans were packed full of bricks of plastic explosive, neatly packed and all wired up to something with a lot of blinking lights. The speed wizard quickly unpacked the first truck, then the second, and then just had to pause and stare at the pile of explosives. "There's four more trucks," she whispered, her mind overwhelmed by the gross, blind destructive power on display. "Why do they need so many bombs? Why would they... Who could even imagine..." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to center herself. "I don't... I don't think we can disarm them, Ri-- Fast-Forward. We need to get them out of the building. But we don't know how much time it left before they explode. Okay, I have a plan." Miras blurred over to a pick-up truck and grabbed a blue tarpaulin from the back of it, laying the plastic sheet out flat on the ground. She picked a piece of chalk from her pocket and began drawing symbols and arcane markings on it. "Pile them in the middle," she said, scooting around on her hands and knees as she worked. "I can slow them to a crawl, buy some time at least."

Asli reached out with a sigh, taking Joe's hands and squeezing them. Her hands and Joe's hands were both soapy and wet; her were crooked from too many hours typing and scratching, and his were calloused from too many fights protecting other people. "I was hoping you'd be more ready for this," she said. "I'm always going to be busy, Joe. We're always going to be busy. I wouldn't love you if you weren't the kind of guy who did things. But I wasted ten years of my life, I don't want to wake up at sixty and realize that I let my life go by because I was waiting for the perfect moment. I want to --" She was cut off by the front door ringing. Asli let go of Joe's hands and stepped back, laughing lightly. "Real life always intervenes, doesn't it?" The door rang again and she rolled her eyes. "Go check it out. I'll... finish up the dishes."

The man's screams quieted and died as Sam's magic took hold. His expression became fogged, the homicidal rage hidden behind the calming effect of the Hell-girl's magic. Tona was still being held up by her neck, but now that she wasn't struggling for her life she could brace her feet on the wall and lift up, then aim a strike at the inside of the man's elbows. The simple mechanical action freed her, but she didn't have much time to recover. Sam dodged left and right as the crazed woman clawed right and left at her, her movements large and predictable. It was simplicity itself for a graduate of Mr. Archer's classes to avoid a rage-fueled civilian, at least long enough for a survivalist archer to intervene. Tona came in from below, lifting the woman up and slamming her to the ground with quick, practiced ease. For all the woman had crazed strength, Tona was a practiced martial artist and was able to immobilize her without much trouble. "There's some zip ties in my bag," she said casually, almost sitting on the woman. "It'd be great if you could grab a couple of those, lover."

Will Save: Results 1d20: 2 [1d20=2] So he's all calm. Melee attack check: Results 1d20+3: 9 [1d20=6] So she misses. Tona's going to wriggle out of the grip with Escape Artist. That makes a check higher than the guy can possibly make, so she gets free. Then she attacks the businesswoman growling at Sam, who is a minion so Tona can hit without rolling and the woman takes 10 on her Toughness check and fails. That's buttkicking by the numbers.

I could go with TOMORROW to rename the UN organization; BLUEMOON sounds like something you might find in an actual intelligence agency, while something like "Agents of TOMORROW" is more comic book. To rename the AEGIS group, you'd have to go with CAIN. It's just too perfect.

Personally I think it'd be hilarious if two different secret organizations from two different groups had the same acronym, but it's probably a joke that's only funny once.

Poking and prodding at the lock was an increasingly frustrating experience. No matter what she tried, the lock would barely shiver. It was like the entire space was already occupied by something -- and when she finally pried off the plate to get a look at the innards, that was exactly what she saw. The locking mechanism was being held in place by some kind of plastic clip, which jammed the door in position. When she saw that, it was child's play to free the lock and step outside. Out in the hallway, Tona checked the item hanging off their door's handle. It was circular and looked like gold, but on inspection it was just hard plastic; the outside was knurled, and the flat surface had a pair of snakes eating each others' tails. She looked up and down the corridor and noticed that each and every room had a similar lock on it. "We were supposed to be on vacation," she muttered, kneeling down next to another disk on another door. "This really looks like amateur hour, though," she said, prodding the lock. "The opening is pretty obvious from this side." She gripped the disk and twisted it, and the whole thing popped off the door. "So why'd they do it?" She opened the door and was immediately bowled over. A man in a sensible suit, his neck bulging and literally frothing with rage, busted out of the room and into the corridor. He gripped Tona by the neck and lifted her into the air with both hands, screaming incoherently in her face. A woman in a gray sweater and pencil skirt stalked out of the room after him, her face fixed in a snarl. When she caught sight of Sam she shrieked in pain and anger and charged at her, manicured nails slashing at the air.

Tona stays close to Sam as the other woman got decent and opened the door -- or rather, tried to. After a few moments of furtive struggling, they switched places and the archer put her superior strength to the task. It dint help, through, since she couldn't get the lock to turn or fit or pull the door back far enough to fit her fingers around it. "It feels like the lock is jammed," she said. She glanced past Sam to the window, where the dark of night reflected her perplexed expression. "Did we sleep too late? Do they lock the doors at night, like Claremont?"

I'm looking to put together a thread involving an art exhibition being held at Freedom City University. This will almost certainly involve Arcturus, but can also involve some other folks who want to absorb/engage with/punch some culture. This thread is likely to involve a mix of PL 11s and PL 12s.

What kind of art does Arcturus make? Is it paintings and drawings, sculpture, architecture, etc?

I want clarification on something here. Will it be allowed for PCs to be primarily connected to Emerald City or Bedlam? I understand that these are areas that any PC can visit, but should new PCs be primarily tied to Freedom City? Or are we going to transition to Freedom City and Emerald City and Bedlam City PbP?

The religion block is the only part that gives you hard numbers? That's troubling.

Tona gasped and fell into the kiss, curling her toes inside her boots. For a few minutes there was nothing but warn touch and sweet taste. When they finally pulled apart, she kept her cheek against Sam's. "I never learned much about gardening," she said quietly. "We moved around too much to plant anything and wait for it to grow. But I can learn; it would be a lot nicer to put something together that meant we had fresh vegetables rather than something smothered in salt. I can do that for you." She kissed Sam lightly on the lips. "I can do all sorts of things for you." She kissed again, smiling against her girlfriend's lip, moving her hands -- Her plan was interrupted by a knock at the door. Grudgingly, she set Sam back on her feet and stood up, opening the door a crack. Outside was a man in a crisp white uniform with the logo of the train line on his breast. "Dinner, miss!" He took a plate off a cart he was pushing, one of many identical plates. "Dinner for two, courtesy of the captain. Enjoy!" Tona took it with a murmured thanks, and closed and locked the door again. She set the plate on the table next to the window and removed the corrugated paper cover, revealing a pair of bowls filled with soup. She picked one up and sniffed it, smelling cheese and salt and cream. "Yuck," she said, placing the bowl down again. "Too fatty, too salt. Not sweet enough." She put her arms around Sam again and pulled her girlfriend to the bed. "I've got a different meal in mind." She pulled her girlfriend down and kissed her, and touched her. There was no more room for words or worry and the time passed in sweet ecstasy. When they came up for air again, hours later, Tona was sweaty and satisfied. "Now I'm ready to get some dinner," she said, whispering into Sam's ear. "They've got to have something better than fatty soup on board."

The terrorist turned quickly, startled to find Fast-Foward standing behind her. "I won't be caught in with your capitalist mockery," she shouted, backpedaling away from both speedsters. "You'll never stop me or my compatriots. We'll be immortalized in the annals of the revolution!" Miras raced out from her hiding spot and appeared in front of the woman, her hands up and empty. "No one's going to have good words for someone who tries to kill folks in hospitals. You're not going to get a statue in the park for this." The woman raised her weapon, smiling in a shaky, crazy way. "That's where you're wrong. This whole building is going to be my monument."

They might have a Hart & Sons legal firm that they retain, yes. Or even simply the Harrison Legal Firm.

But Detroit already has a Bedlam -- it's called Flint.

"So you are going to be the Phantom Fox, then," Tona said quietly. "I was wondering when you were going to start something like that." She paused and added, "I guess that's why you asked me to bring my bow along too, huhn? If you're making a bolthole, I'm going to have to find a place to hide down there, too." She held Sam for a long minute, listening to her girlfriend's breathing, to her own breathing, to the train gently clicking and clacking against the rails. "I'm glad you brought me along," she said finally. "I never, never, never want to see you disappear again like you did. If you do, I might just have to tie you down."

"Well a family isn't something that just happens," Asli said, dunking the dish in water and rinsing it off. "I mean, kids just happen, sure, but families take... effort. Love and sacrifice and planning and teaching -- all of that is a lot harder than just sex." She pulled the dish out and scraped at a difficult spot with her fingernail, trying to determine if it was more dirt and crusted foodstuff or just a chip in the dish. "I think it's important to start a family early, you know? So you have more energy, you're able to put more effort into things. Otherwise, well." She put the platter off to some side to dry and absently rubbed at a scar on her wrist. "Well, I know it's a bad idea to start a family unless you have help with it."

That makes sense to me. If you make it an offshoot of Milwaukee, then you can rotate the map between ninety and one hundred & thirty-five degrees and have it feed into Lake Michigan. If you put it near St. Louis, then the map stands as is and the city feeds into the Mississippi.

... Why do we want this in Freedom City again? It feels like putting Flint, MI, next to Rivendell.

Put it in the Rust Belt. It gives another reason why the city was abandoned.