Raveled
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Okay, Corona's going to switch her array over to Strength of the Cosmos and punch Procycus. Results 1d20+10: 22 [1d20=12] With any luck that'll take him down sooner rather than later.
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Aya narrowed her eyes and gave the armed guards a hard look. "Let's talk specifics," she said. "What happened to the governor and the police chief? Where is the governor's office, and what kind of defenses does it have? And the most important question is, how many ships have left this planet since the Sar-Lan appeared?"
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Aya looked past the gaggle of politicos and their subdued bodyguards, to where the Praetorians were doing a good job handling the rest of the criminals. They didn't need her help over there, and the faster this group got a handle on the situation the sooner they would all be able to catch the criminals. "Start talking," she said, directing her words at the head of the committee. "Where is Pheydyn holding up? What kind of guards has she warped to protect herself? You better start talking, you've already attacked a duly appointed representative of the Republic."
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Well hell, the rest of the team seem to be handling things. Corona's going to keep talking to the politicos.
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Tona tried to scratch the cat skeleton behind the ears, but her nails just slipped against bone; at least Mitsy seemed appreciative. "I wish you would just talk to me about what happened," she said, talking as much to the cat as her girlfriend behind the door. "I tried to get you to talk about it when you showed up for dinner, but you never would. And now you're back and you still won't talk about it!" She sighed, leaning her head back against the door. "Just open the door, please. I don't want to climb out on the ledge. It's really cold out today!"
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I have no answer for that. I'm you can stop the car how you want to; it can be gently without any damage, it can totally wreck the vehicle, it can be with the driver untouched or unconscious.
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Blue Jay bared her teeth as the police car raced through the city's streets, staying low and leaning into the turns as it skidded around, staying close to the suped-up subcompact. "Can't talk," she replied. "Car surfing." It was dangerous. She had to time her movements just right and anticipate the vehicle's movement; if she jumped too early or in the wrong she would land on the pavement and end up as so much road rash. It was unnecessary, it was foolhardy, and it made her blood sing. The moment came and the archer launched herself. For a moment she was suspended in midair and knew, deep in her bones, that she was going to land in the street; then she made contact with the neon green roof and dug her fingers in tight, her textured gloves gripping the smooth metal. She grinned fiercely and began pulling herself up the car, inching her way towards the windshield while remaining spread out on the roof. "Blodeuwedd, I need some place to stop this car," she called up. "Find me somewhere that a crash won't kill anyone!"
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Blue Jay Scum Protection Squad Homecoming, Coming Home Corona Praetorians: the Deadly Dozen Miras Tattered Marks Tagging The Stranger GM
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Aya's eyes widened for just a moment, then she sucked in a breath and shouted "Freeze!" Decades of certainty in her own authority and Aya's glowing aura caused both groups to pause, giving the Lor enough time to march the rest of the way down the ramp, sweeping her icy gaze across the groups. "I am Aya K'zan," she announced, "duly appointed representative of the Lor Republic, serving alongside the Praetorians. Those guys bak there." She jerked a thumb back towards Paragon and the rest. "Before the Lor themselves were more than screaming apes, these sentients went toe to toe with the Communion, and made those metal parasites s--- so many motherboards that they hid for a couple thousand years, just to be sure the Praetorians were gone." Aya jutted her chin forward. "And the Lor trust me to ride herd on them all. So listen to me when I tell you to drop your guns before I show you just why I hang around with the deadliest creatures in spae."
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Then she won't fly, she'll just Intimidate.
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Corona is going to fly up and try to Intimidate the whole group. Results 1d20+14: 34 [1d20=20] Starting things off properly!
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The woman, her face still twisted in terror and shock, retrieved her dog from the long, grasping tongue of the toad demon. Animals in tow she hurried away from the scene, leaving Hellbinder free to focus on the creature she had captured. As the young magus watched, her chains pulled down and the creature split along the chain, two more noxious frogs standing in its place. Both croaked foul gasses and advanced on her perch. Then, there was a flash of blue, heatless flame and the creature on the right screamed as it was consumed, leaving nothing but a stinking puddle behind. A large figure in voluminous green robes was suddenly standing on the ground, hands raised in a gesture of power. "Someone needs to call the EPA," the new mage said. "There's something nasty in the water."
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Three bright points rose above the city, descending towards the West End. The suburb of tiny, ethnic shops and inwardly-turned neighborhoods didn't even glance at the trio of brightly colored people touching down in front of a particular boutique. The scrolled, gilt letters on the door proclaimed it to be BOOKERS AND POOLS TYPSETTING; when Miras reached out and pushed on the front door, it turned out to be unlatched and opened inwards. The magus looked at the other two and shrugged, walking inside. The door opened into a narrow hallway hung with different examples of typography. It was a well-laid out example of what the shop could do, but with what Miras was expecting to find it felt oppressive and claustrophobic. It might also have been because her shoulders brushed either wall and she had to advance almost sideways. "Hello? Is there someone in here?" She listened; there was a regular, metallic sound coming from within. A heavy, ringing sound every five or six seconds that reverberated down the hallway. "Is there anyone in there? I'm looking for someone who printed a book!"
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Communion Drones' Reflex saves. 6#1d20+5: 6 # 15 [1d20=10] 23 [1d20=18] 13 [1d20=8] 7 [1d20=2] 11 [1d20=6] 22 [1d20=17] Only one makes its save! Communion Drones' Toughness saves vs. DC 28. 5#1d20+10: 5 # 26 [1d20=16] 20 [1d20=10] 19 [1d20=9] 22 [1d20=12] 19 [1d20=9] That's Bruises all around. Communion Drone's Toughness save vs. DC 22. 1d20+10: 12 [1d20=2] But he's Bruised + Dazed. Interesting.
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Miras started when Kingsnake spoke. "You couldn't have used the front door?" she asked. "Like a normal person?" It was a silly question of course -- none of this was normal -- but it made her feel better. "Listen, neither of us liked how that train job went down. I think we could each stand to, you know, learn a little bit from each other." She rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen herself up. "Unless you think dropping a jet on the city was a great idea." She took a deep breath and moved to the middle of the circle of cardboard and sheets. "So, first you can teach me how to throw a punch better. I can move fast, but sometimes that's not enough. And you obviously know how to punch pretty well."
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Tona was shocked to hear Sam's voice. Shocked to hear the strain in her voice, shocked to hear the cool and collected girl sound... wounded. "Talia got me," she said through the door. "Came all the way to Freedom City and flew me out on an airplane." She paused and let the silence hang there for a moment hoping that Sam would have something to say back, but after a minute it was clear that she didn't. "She said you came back from your missions weeks ago, and you haven't left your room since then." Tona put her back to the door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor, holding the skeletal kitten in her hands. She sighed and ran her finger down the cat's spine, feeling the ridges of its spine and watching its tail stand up straight. She wasn't sure what to say to get through to Sam; part of Tona's brain was telling her to simply kick the door open and confront her girlfriend about everything, but she had a feeling that would just make things worse. Tona didn't know how to handle emotional situations and she didn't know how to read people. Her mouth quirked into the beginning of a smile when she realized that she had always depended on Sam for that sort of thing.
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The man sighed theatrically. "I can't show you the shipwreck," he said. "I had an RSV, but Atlanteans grabbed it." He drained his glass and stood up, moving to the wet bar and starting to fix himself another. "It's damn disconcerting when you're trying to find an open hatch on a wreck, and suddenly fish-men riding sharks swim into view and yank you around." He poured himself another drink, this one with more soda water, and stood at the bar. He looked out over the rear of his house, to where the yard swooped down to a dock. "And then there's that Atlantean ambassador or senator or whatever, living on my damn boat. It's a crime."
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He's not lying about his reason for looking for the ship, but he's not telling the whole truth, either.
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Asli stayed quiet as Lynn explained her history to the group. Her movements became slower as the tragedy began to grow on her, until she was sitting still and silent. "You've been through an amazing journey," she said quietly. "The fact that you can still face life with joy is amazing. I hope I can keep the same sense of adventure through my life." She accepted the USB stick from Gretchen, looking it over before sticking it in a pocket. She hadn't expected to actually get anything from the woman so this was a pleasant surprise. "I put out an album just before the holidays, actually. Ways and Means has a lot of country-style stuff on it, lots of acoustic guitars and lazy rhythms. It was a different direction for me."
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For all rollz and the like influencing this right here.
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January 22nd, 2016 Freedom City, New Jersey Midday It could have been a frog, if. It had the right body shape, all bulging belly and eyes and weirdly spindly legs. It hopped with the same quick, spastic, energetic movements. Its skin had the same wet, shiny look to it. Its tongue was wet and pink and long, slapping out and grabbing at prey and dragging them toward its open, stinking max. It could have been a frog, if it hadn’t been five feet tall. If it hadn’t been heavy enough to crack the pavement where it landed. If it hadn’t been redolent of decay and pestilence and rot and stink. If it hadn’t been black and green and ridged with what looked like rock but smoked like lava. If it hadn’t been slowly advancing on the woman with her trio of yappy dogs. Its tongue shot out like a whip and snared the smallest of them, wrapping around the puppy’s head and slowly, inexorably dragging the animal back to its mouth. It could have been a frog, if it wasn’t ready to swallow the woman whole.
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One advantage to living in a former industrial zone was that Miras knew plenty of buildings that no one cared about. Her magic had made it child’s play to get inside, and she had spread around a few pillows and unfolded cardboard boxes; she couldn’t afford to buy any amount of gym mats, so this would have to suffice. The hardest part of everything had actually been getting word out to Kingsnake that she was ready for their session. The man had been infuriating when they were forced together by mercenaries and key witnesses and runaway trains. Kingsnake was skilled at fighting, but his methods had left a lot to be desired. Miras couldn’t just let him walk away, so she decided to give him a talk about how to handle a fight like that. In the meantime, though, she could probably stand to learn a thing or two from Kingsnake. Being able to move faster than an eyeblink handled a lot of problems but eventually she needed to know how to hit someone properly. Miras’s normal robes were hardly suited for a fistfight, so she had reconfigured her usual outfit into something more bare; a hooded green jacket that reached to her waist, loose white trousers and black boots and gloves. She paced around the room, bounding from one foot to the other as she waited for Kingsnake. Part of her was regretting setting this whole situation up. Who was she to lecture this other hero how to fight? Sure, he liked being scary, but so did Raven and Foreshadow and Arrowhawk -- and those were all heroes. On the other hand, she kept coming back to the memory of him letting the plane crash with the paralyzed soldier in it. He had been willing to let that vehicle go down with the mercenary in it, and only Miras’s quick thinking had saved the man. As she tried to use that memory to motivate her, a small voice kept reminding her that the soldier wouldn’t have been paralyzed if it hadn’t been for Miras’s magics...
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Initiative 25 -- Paradigm -- Uninjured -- HPx3 16 -- Dronesx6 -- Uninjured -- GM 14 -- Corona -- Uninjured -- HPx1 13 -- Traveler -- Uninjured -- HPx1 There's Communion drones flooding into the room, and there's cargo boxes around if you want to throw 'em. Let's do this!
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Alright, let's get into Initiative times. Corona's Initiative: 1d20+7: 21 [1d20=14] Drones' Initiative: 1d20+2: 18 [1d20=16]
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Initiative: 1d20+7: 14 [1d20=7] Rush 'em, Praetorians!