Raveled

Blue Jay started at the sound of the smartphone, not understanding what was going on for a moment. Esther seemed to be having a one-sided conversation in the dark... Oh, a cell phone. Of course. Jay strained her ears to hear the other side of the conversation, but it kept getting drowned out by Esther's eager responses. "Esther, no!" Blue Jay was still blind, but she didn't want to lose her. The archer moved forward, trusting in her own natural agility to save her shins. She did knock against the bed (soft) and the wall (hard), but a little searching found the open window. Jay climbed out, took one step, and was falling through the air. It didn't take her very long to fall, and her instincts had her tuck and roll at the end. She stood shakily, holding out a hand to Esther. "Where is Hannah Franklin? What did you do with her!"

Happy birthday, Darksider. Many happy returns.

I would ask what sort of end-result, what sort of effect, you want to achieve with these powers. Being able to step into Arcadia and step back somewhere miles away is a fine trope, but if everytime you Teleport a group the GM has to come up with a mini-adventure featuring the Fae, this PC isn't going very popular with GMs. My suggestions: Array'd Teleport. One is short-range and normal speed, where she just steps into Arcadia for a moment, like how Kurt Wagner only spends moments in the Hell dimension when he teleports. The other is long-range and the Action is Flawed down to, let's say 1 minute; then you can narrate a little trip through Faerie-land when your use it. For the combat form, I'd borrow a line from Captain Marvel; use Alternate Form with the Activation Drawback; that means there's a gesture or spell she has to cast to activate the form. Saves some points and opens up dramatic options when she's bond & gagged.

Blue Jay >All About the Franklins >Protection Detail >Mission of Mercy: Aftermath >It was a Graveyard Smash TNTeen Maelstrom >Welcome to Earth Corona >Metallic Mesozoic Monsters GM >Sport of Kings

"Well as it turns out the Curator doesn't much care for individuals making off with things that he reckons belongs to him." The alien paused. "I knew that going in, but, hell, what's life without a few challenges?" He rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Tha stasis wasn't exactly comfortable, but it gave me time to think, at least. And plan my escape, which I executed... almost flawlessly." He fiddled absently with the gauntlet of his suit. "That's a pretty big quantifier," Maelstrom pointed out. "What's your plan now?" "In all honesty, I was hoping to be sitting pretty in a star cluster or nebula about now," he said. "I suppose what I need to do first is get a ship off-planet."

Corona nodded at the two arrivals and did her best to suppress her reaction to hustle them off. Abnormally powered individuals liaised on a whim all the time on Earth, as she understood; she would just have to adjust. At the very least, though, she could try and teach them the correct method for doing things. "First we oughta establish a line a' communication to those still in the building. Or at least learn who is and ain't supposed ta be in there." "Building is owned by a realty agency in Boston," Brant said. "It's leased to a company called Real Fantasy. They're an SF/X company, they do CGI and machines for commercials and indie movies. They only person listed on the lease is the company founder," he added, "and we can't contact him. We tried calling in but no one picked up." Corona nodded, noting that the police had taken the first few logical steps. "Then I reckon the next thang to do is ta' walk up and knock on tha' door."

"Call it a wash, brother." Maelstrom floated down to the forest floor, though even once she was standing firm on the Earth her cape and long, dark hair fluttered on her own personal breeze. "Personally, I'm happy that everyone came through that intact." She glanced around, checking the younger heroes over for visible signs of injury. "Everyone did come through that okay, right?" The alien reached into his collar and unhooked something, and there was a sudden, brief outgassing before he removed the helmet. Underneath he looked mostly human, except that the pulsing of his lobes was very nearly visible through the skin of his scalp. He took a deep breath and walked over to Thoughtspeed, holding out his hand. "Afraid I didn't get the operating manual when I grabbed that puppy off the Curator's boat," he said. "Jus' found somethin' that looked like the hyperdrive and pressed it. Might well consider myself lucky that I wasn't scattered across a nebula, you know, haha!" At Mind-Set's question, he gave a look at the wrecked ship. "Well if'n you run a scrap yard, feel free to scrap 'er. I don't see how it can get more broke. And if'n your hypothetical scarp yard has a little something," he added, "I'd take it of your hands. Even a little rockjumper, I reckon I could rig a hyperdrive to get me out to a bigger station and then hitch from there."

Souffle, this is not actually taking place at Stenson Arms.

When the portal closed in front of her and the Terminus was closed off forever, she couldn't manage to relax. Maybe it was because she had been denied a climactic fight with the General, maybe it was because of this new player, Silex -- maybe it was because she had been fighting the Terminus her entire life and couldn't quite believe it was over. For whatever reason, she wasn't ready to relax and consider the war won. Jay peeked in on Sam, but she was resting peacefully and as much as Tona wanted to sit by her girlfriend's side there was lots of work to do in order to settle all the refugees. By the time Gabriel showed up, she was already sore and sweating when Gabriel swooped out of the sky and introduced himself. If she had been more rested when he showed p she might have reacted more strongly, but all she did was shrug and point to some of the earthen habitats. "There are some people around that no one can understand," she said. "Try to see if they understand you."

For rolls and suchlike re: >here thread.

Hanover, Freedom City September 27th, 2014 Afternoon It was a day like any other in Freedom City; the sun was shining, birds were singing, and there were police vehicles pulled up in front of a shred laboratory in Hanover. Lights flashed and junior officers cordoned off the area, while other officers in body armor kept windows and doors covered. Corona observed all of this from high above and approved of the crisp movements and precision. However, she wasn’t the sort to watch trouble happen, and so before long the alien in the hardsuit had planted herself in the middle of the carefully orchestrated chaos. “I’m Corona,†she announced. “Whichever y’all’s in charge here, I’d like to take a jawin’ with him.†“Sergeant Brant.†Corona turned around and faced a tall man with brick-red skin. “And you just fell out of the sky, so hello. I don’t suppose you’re here to tell us what’s causing those noises in there?†Corona was about to ask for some clarification, when a rumbling roar split the noonday street. She turned and watched as a great bulk eclipsed several windows -- at once -- before moving on. “Yeah, that thing. I don’t suppose you know what that thing is?â€

Hm. I was going to recommend that maybe Melody is in a John Crichton situation; maybe she's been thrown across the galaxy by some Event that no one understands and is trying to live her life and do good while looking for a way home. But if revenging her people is that central to her concept, maybe something else would be a better idea.

And now you know why my anatomically correct Spider-Man concept keeps getting bounced back.

You could always intentionally undercap her, build her to PL 8 caps but use a PL 10 budget. Or, I di have some free Equipment points, yeah.

This is a hero? With twin plasma cannons and acid spit?

I could throw >Critical in here. He doesn't have the temperament to run a ship on his own, but being the levity half to a pair? He can do that.

GM Thoughtspeed raced over and across the huge robot, his mind blade opening rents in the armor of the automaton. It shuddered and halted, leaking strange fluids and stuttering in its speech. "Earth-Lor-Humans, refrain from fight-opposition-confrontation... Must retrieve... Must retrieve... Must retr-r-r-r-rieve--" A piece of the crashed suddenly rattled to life and lifted from the wreckage, orientating on the drone. Energy crackled along the length of the metal piece, and then a lance of bright, eye-searing power connected it and the drone for the briefest of instants. The drone and the outcropping both exploded into a thousand fragments, and as the noise of the explosions faded peace returned to the glen. The alien popped out of the hatch again, dusting his hands off. "Well, that takes care of that. And I do apologize," he said to Stronghold and Thoughtspeed, "for threatening you. But you must understand that there are very, very few individuals in the galaxy who would have the idea of stand up to a Collector's drones. And for most it would merely be elaborate and painful suicide."

Happy birthday, Quinn, and may there be many more to come.

Blue Jay moved slowly through the apartment, noting details distantly while her sense reached out for any sign that the unit was inhabited. The empty refrigerator made her think the woman had already left, but she figured that Sam lived like that, too, so it wasn't a conclusive sign. The red spots in the bathroom piqued her interest, but they were too old to be very useful. And then she was in the bedroom facing a woman dressed in swimming clothes, and there was a scream. Jay blinked quickly in the dark, surprised that her mask's enhanced senses didn't seem to be doing anything to the gloom. She opened her mouth to reassure who she could only assume was Esther Henson, but hesitated. Technically, she was a hunter coming for the woman, and Jay didn't lie very well. "I am a hunter," she said finally, "but I am not here to fight you, Esther Henson. I have never even seen you before."

I feel like Elite would be a lot better fit for this than Wayward would, Rose. I'm going to have to nix her. We can get her an adventure with green aliens, though, in time.

On the one hand, Wayward is not a very combat-oriented character. On the other hand, I can't imaine another PC who could play to the crowd better. Only question is, why is she at a martial arts tourny?

... Jax?

I need two or three PCs for a thread that starts in a martial arts tournament and ends with fighting gladiatorial games. On an alien world. Any takers?

Strong Drone's Toughness save, vs DC 27. (1d20+13=22) Bruise x3. Horn, want to throw up another post for Stronghold?

Summer Job Tona Baudin woke up in the dark, chilly pre-dawn of the day, with just the faintest glimmering of light showing over the horizon. She laid on her thin bed in the bunkhouse and watched the dawn for a few minutes, then forced herself to get up and prepare for the day. That didn’t take very long, just some water on her face and jumping into hard-worn clothes. The kitchen in the bunkhouse wasn’t ready for breakfast yet, so she grabbed a hunk of bread and eyed the bowl of coffee beans. She had relied on them the first week, and they had made her uncomfortably jumpy. Plus, caffeine put her aim off. She compromised by grabbing a handful and putting them in a pocket for later. Tona got a pickaxe from the tool shed and walked off to the edge of the village, smelling the crisp morning air and the scent of green, growing things all around her. Sanctuary wasn’t anything like the Earth she was learning to call home. It wasn’t at all like the Earth she had been born on, either, since there wasn’t the huge, doomsday bulk of Nihlor in the sky, but she imagined it was close what that world had been like before the Terminus came. Beyond the settlement’s borders was forest, dark and silent and full of creeping tendrils of mist. There was no cacophonous sound of cars or music players blaring into the sky, no lights blotting out the stars or scaring the animals away. Everything was quiet, and still, and perfect. Well. Except for the tree stump at the edge of the fields. It had turned up towards the end of yesterday, and Stesha had told everyone that she would deal with it the following morning. Tona was resolved, however, not to bother Stesha with a little problem with this. She could get a good start into breaking it up with the pickaxe, and with any luck by the time Stesha woke up and got down here they would all be hauling it away. With that plan in mind she set her feet, gripped the tool, and started swinging. “You don’t have to do that, you know.†The voice ringing through the silence was familiar and just slightly amused. Tona looked up to see Stesha walking out of the trees, their branches moving obligingly aside with every step she took. In the early morning mist she seemed unearthly with her flower crown and her green hair plaited in a dozen intricate strands down her back. That was an illusion that would burn away with the mists, though; when she was working, Stesha was as earthy as anyone, trying hard to be one of the gang despite the fact that the planet rose to her hand like a pet. “You’re working harder than anyone, Tona. Aren’t you getting enough exercise already?†Tona had just begun to work up a sweat when Stesha appeared, and there was still a lot of work to be done on the stump, but she rested the head of the pickaxe on the stump and stood straight, giving the older woman her full attention. It was more respect than she would pay most apparent authority figures, but then most of those hadn’t saved her world. While the land and their trees and the animals were gone, her people and culture had been saved and transplanted onto Sanctuary. Of course, they were all survivors of decades of resistance to the Terminus. Most were medically malnourished and suffering from any number of diseases or infirmities that Tona had taken as the regular price of living, before she had experienced modern healthcare. They were recovering (faster than Tona would have thought possible; being able to grow pharmaceuticals to order did wonders for recovery) but the young woman still felt like she was imposing on Stesha’s planet. Which is why she had spent the last three weekends tilling fields and clearing tree stumps. None of which she said to Stesha. She merely shrugged noncommittally. “Sooner it gets done, the sooner the field gets extended,†she said. “Better to work early on in the day, before it gets hot. And if we work hard, we can move the field after lunch.†She shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to talk to the woman who very nearly literally owned the dirt she was walking on. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.†“I don’t need much sleep,†Stesha replied easily, “and you’re right that this is the nicest time of the day. Now that the sky is clear, we actually get summer weather again. It’s kind of a mixed blessing.†She waved a hand at the stump, which immediately began sprouting large purple toadstools the size of Tona’s hand. “I think you’re right about the field, though. We should get it laid in by evening if no emergencies come up.†Not seeming to notice, or choosing not to notice Tona’s diffidence, Stesha sat down cross-legged in the grass and tipped her face up to the sun. “The settlement’s growing very quickly,†she observed. “Your people work very hard. Don’t you ever take breaks, holidays or weekends or something like that?†Tona frowned at the question. She was aware that there were times on her new Earth that people just accepted that no one would be working, that every person in the city (or at least most of them) would be off doing… whatever they wanted. It wasn’t easy for her to wrap her head around, sometimes. “There’s work to do,†she said in a tone like she was commenting on the color of the grass or the sky. “If the work doesn’t get done, then the food doesn't grow and people don’t eat.†She looked at the rows of buildings where most people were still sleeping. “Back -- back in the Terminus, there was always work to do. Or else we were moving to get away from a patrol. Maybe now, once it gets colder, people can slow down. Or maybe not. “But I still have a lot to do,†she added. “A lot to get everyone ready. And, to pay you back, Stesha.†She glanced at the green-haired woman and then dropped her gaze to the toes of her boots. “I kind of lied to you about how many people would be coming. The fields should already be big enough, but because there’s so many more people we have to make it so much bigger. So I should do some of that.†Of course by this point Tona had already put more than some into that effort. “You don’t owe me anything, Tona,†Stesha told her firmly. “If you knew ahead of time more people were coming, I might wish you would’ve told me, but only so we could be more prepared. But there was never a question of turning anyone away. Your people needed help, and helping people is what we do. Me, Gabe, GK, the folks at the monastery, even the bees. We have the land, we have the power and the resources, it’s our responsibility to do whatever we can.†Stesha reached into a nearby tulip and drew out a cloth bag, then began harvesting the purple mushrooms into it. “There will be enough food and fuel for everyone to be fed and warm this winter, and seeds to plant in the spring. Don’t worry so much,†she told Tona with determined cheer. “You’re young and free and safe now. You should have more fun.†Tona took a deep breath and closed her eyes, momentarily taking in the serenity of the early morning, still cool, fog still curling underneath the trees. “I am creating a world for my people,†she said. “A future, something safe. Someplace for future generations… Someplace where there can be future generations.†She smiled at Stesha, relaxed and at ease for once. “My people don’t live under a sun that consumes planets. We don’t run from death squads or risk mutilation just to stand up, just to live another day. I’m not worried about my people. I’m helping to create the better future for them. And that is the only thing I want to do.†“That’s the spirit.†Stesha smiled and handed over the bag of mushrooms as the remains of the tree stump collapsed into powder. “Hopefully the better future can include things like days of rest and holidays. In a couple more months, maybe we’ll introduce you all to the idea of Thanksgiving, that’s a good one. I just want you to be happy here. Conditions are still a little primitive, I know, but in another year or two, it’ll all be better.â€