Fox
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"I...do not know," Indira admitted, looking at the screen as best she could without moving in a way humans really couldn't. How did humans put up with bones? "I am perhaps not as familiar with your legal system as I could be." She frowned, brow furrowing as she looked at the screen and its refusal to offer up answers. "'Juvenile' is...ah, yes. " she translated - for her own benefit, apparently - into Hindi. "I assume it is a place you send prisoners too young to go to a normal prison?"
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Wraith made an odd humming noise, her trio of eyes blinking in unison as she thought that one over. "I am not sure if that is comforting or not," she admitted, though her tone was friendly and amused. "It is, however, very...good to know. Ghosts may not be common, here - and I believe you are less common than most? - but they are more common than I have seen elsewhere, and it has made me...curious. As I said earlier, my people have stories, and religions, but...." She shifted her weight a bit - literally, her body swaying lightly as her mass briefly redistributed. "For what it is worth, I am glad you are no longer...'totally bonkers'." The alien's eyes turned up and narrowed in what was probably an approximation of a smile, given the lack of mouth. She sounded like she was smiling, anyway.... "Fighting you and the wendigo both would have been a great challenge, I think."
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"A...year?" Mara paused, frowning and tilting her head as she ran her memory back through the events of those early months. "I think. Close to, maybe slightly more...hard to tell. Perfect memory, but not as helpful when trying to remember moments when your sense of time was still...." She paused again, gesturing with one hand like she either wasn't sure how to phrase it or wanted to pick her emphasis very carefully. "....uneven." She brushed the hair back again - it kept escaping! - and pulled a wry look as she switched tracks back to Erik. "Overconfident...mmh. Insulted. Exactly as confident as I need to be at any given time."
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Mara opened her mouth to object at "and real", but apparently decided the finer points of what counted as real wasn't terribly productive and shut it again. "Not sure about awesome. But was pretty good," she admitted, a little of that pride creeping back as she bumped Ellie's hip with her own. "Sort of did learn by trial and error. Started with...less impressive technology, unstable protection, no armor. No lasting injuries, but...mostly luck, I think. Pain's a good teacher. Motivating."
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It was a solution that Wraith clearly approved of; she looked on and nodded with approval at the idea of somebody gaining control over their shapeshifting ability (and, in some small part, at Verglas; she may not have been truly Indian, but she'd been in the country long enough to have some small measure of national pride). There were apparently not many with the ability to change shape on this planet, and she knew first hand from having to hide here how restrictive being stuck in one form could be. The circumstances surely could have been better, and she wasn't entirely sure what having a wendigo spirit in you meant, but being able to change into even just one other body must have been better than nothing. "It is...perhaps not my place to ask," she quietly asked Kimber when she felt she safely could, "but....what is it like, to be dead? My people have old stories - you would say 'ghost stories'? - but a true, real ghost is not something I have ever heard of happening. Not outside of fiction, at least."
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Mara snorted, but nodded. "If they'd been armed and not pulling punches, would have made them fight each other, or shut them down. But, yes. Have been in real fights, know how they go when not being careful. Better to not get hit at all. Even built it into armor designs: avoidance, light weight, agile. Generally prefer not getting hurt over seeing how much hurt metal plates and force fields take. Too easy to go bad. Too many things metal and force fields don't stop. Too many things can't be dodged, too," she admitted, grimacing, "but no strategy's perfect."
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Ellie's hug got a happy hug in return, Mara squeezing her girlfriend in a mixture of post-fight high and pride. Pride tinted with a pretty good idea of just how long she had to go, though. "Challenging," she observed - complimented? - when she finally let go of her medic and brushed some hair back behind an ear. "Not used to fighting...mmh. Naked? Without armor. Slower, shorter reach, can't fly. No shield - used to being able to put it between me and threats." She mimed that, holding a hand out flat, fingers spread, like she was pressing it against an invisible wall. "Radar, too. Suit has short-range threat detection. Helps when flanked, but too used to having it there to warn me. Wasn't...phrase...'watching my back' as well as I should."
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Mara frowned, watching the robot as it backed away; she couldn't know what it was thinking without cheating, but she knew what she'd do in its place and her mind spun through chess-like attacks and counter-attacks, actions and responses given what the other drones had done so far and strategically optimal plans on both sides to survive and defeat one's opponent. And then she paused, gears almost audibly clicking in her brain as her head tilted to the side. The object wasn't to survive an defeat her opponent: the object was to land a hit. Any hit. She rushed forward without warning, rapidly closing distance and sacrificing much hope of guarding herself from reprisal in a calculated strike with her left fist.
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Melee Attack Roll vs. drone (Accurate Attack +2/-2, All-Out Attack +2/-2) (1d20 + 4 + 2 + 2=20) Woot. No more shall the drones tagger Mara!
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stupid - stupid - stupid - cocky - have to be more careful Mara adjusted her footing, trying harder to pay attention to the enemies she couldn't keep in her field of vision. She was sweating, now, noticeably but not profusely. She certainly had a growing respect for people who went out on the street and fought crime without powers. She let the drones take the initiative, this time, her actions becoming a bit more defensive as she waited for the perfect moment, striking out with a fist even as it was trying to move in to strike her. three
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Wraith gave Becky the same interested, almost rapt attention that she'd given the young woman when she'd first transformed, three large black eyes taking in every detail of a change so very similar and yet so very unlike her own. A small shiver ran down her body, some sort of reflex, the hint of a wendigo's features pulling at her own smooth and polished metal before her gaze went elsewhere to catch up with people talking. "The blanket was a good idea - I imagine she will be cold without her clothing. I am Wraith," she offered the ghost, arms shortening and forming back into hands, if four-fingered ones. "Or I am Indira - if we are to attend school together, perhaps Indira would be better?" She paused, three eyes blinking as something occurred to her. "Wraith," she repeated, looking - and sounding - rather amused. "That is - I think the word is irony? No - 'ironic'. That is very ironic; it seems almost as if it might fit you better than it fits me."
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I'm an idiot. And waaay too used to fighting when Mara's in armor. Her attack bonus is only +4 without her toys, not +10. That last roll should have been 7+4+2= 13, not 19, though I think that still hits? Melee attack roll vs. drone (Accurate Attack +2/-2, Defensive Attack -2/+2) (1d20 + 4 + 2 - 2=12) Dunno if that hits or not, either. IC pending!
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mmh - went well enough - slower than expected - suspect he's taking it easy on me - probably a good thing Mara ducked and weaved, for very loose definitions of 'ducked' and 'weaved'; she seemed to be relying a lot more on being able to anticipate attacks than she was on true combat reflexes. Every incoming blow wasn't so much avoided as calculated, the young woman's speedy mind actively figuring out where each attack was going to be and then...not being there. But even she could only pay so much attention to everything around herself for so long. She struck again, turning to the side and lashing a hand out at a drone that'd gotten too close.
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(18:45:10) System: Fox rolls 1d20 and gets 7. +10 (attack bonus) + 2 (Accurate Attack +2/-2)= 19.
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'And so on' didn't quite register with Mara like it probably should have, given her lack of formal schooling, but she was encouraged none the less and made a mental note to re-consider that later. For now she pulled the gloves on and assumed a very rough approximation of a fighting stance: somewhat experienced but painfully untrained. On the other hand, her reflexes and fast uptake were half-decent, if not quite up to super-heroic standards. With sharp eyes and a sharper mind she waited until the math seemed right and shot a fist out toward the nearest drone.
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Initiative Roll (Speed of Thought) (1d20 + 7=18) EDIT: I'm just gonna use this post. Melee attack roll vs. drone (Accurate Attack +2/-2) (1d20 + 4 + 2=14)
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"We do not wish to hurt you," Wraith insisted, but her actions put her words in a bit of an uncertain light. As the others' assault and Eve's shielding energy gave her some room her arms extended, lengthening and thinning to form two long tendrils, each tipped with a more refined club, a large mass covered in small, force-focusing knobs. She wasted no time in using them, too, raining both down in graceful arcs onto the wendigo as soon as she had a clear moment. Her large dark eyes...well, they might as well have been almond-shaped black holes so was impossible to tell exactly where she was looking at any given moment, but the distinct impression was that she was tracking the whole fight at once...and rather enjoying herself, if not her opponent or circumstances.
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Move action: Elongate her arms (because she just didn't have a chance to, before; stupid actions! Need more Shapeshift!) Standard action: Melee Attack roll vs. Wendigo (whip-club setting; Power Attack -2/+2, All-Out Attack +2/-2) (1d20 + 10 - 2 + 2=23) Wraith's defense drops by 2. I think that's a hit, though, with the stun and all; DC27 Toughness save.
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Mara raised an eyebrow, scowling as Quirk disappeared and then turning her focus over to Jessica. As annoying as this whole ordeal had been - being kidnapped out of her home, the fighting, the useless, loud princess...somewhere deep down there was a piece of her that was disappointed she hadn't won. She was curious about the prize, of course, but given Jessica' rapt attention it was either private or very important...or both. She was trying to be better about the personal space of other people'ss electronics, anyway. She gave her friend what she figured was a decent time to look things over, and then spoke up. "Good prize?"
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"Drones," Mara rather redundantly observed. "Interesting. Good design. Simple. Not sure about the head; prefer more solid, reinforced structures." Lights danced behind her eyes as she idly poked at the robots, but 'idly' was the operative word: after all the distractions getting to this point, she was apparently determined to try to stay focused. "Suit or no suit?" She asked, tilting her head. "Probably want padding or weapon, if expected to fight back. Would rather not punch metal. Metal would win."
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Indira was the last to respond to the sudden and threatening presence of the wendigo in their midst, and it was largely due to her rapt interest in the creature's transformation. Eve's request, too, gave her pause, but eventually she had to do something. Her features melted away, mouth and nose and hair and clothes alike disappearing and smoothing out even as her forehead opened into a third, vertical eye. All at once she was moving, rushing in to meet the wendigo head-on as one arm formed a long, club-tipped tendril that swung sideways toward her enemy's ribs. "I am sorry," she said, voice even and sincere. "I am not very good at fighting gently. I will try to avoid more permanent damage?"
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Right, then. Time to field-test the alien. Without books handy! Should be fun. Move action: shapeshift to the whip-club setting example on Wraith's sheet. Move action: close to melee range. SURGE: attack. Melee attack roll vs. Wendigo (strike setting) (1d20 + 10=23) That plus Kimber's +2 is 25. DC 25 toughness if it hits. HP to waive the surge fatigue.
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Mara looked about as off-guard as Jessica did; she was used to manipulators and the openly-hostile (and, with depressing regularity, openly-hostile manipulators). "That's...true," she admitted, so reluctantly she might as well have had a team of horses dragging the words out of her. "Was for me, at least. Helped some people. Stopped some problems. Still not completely sure it was real, though. And not right to...steal people away for dangerous games, regardless. Ends don't always justify means, games shouldn't be life-threatening."
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Mara glanced toward the Wreck Room with a slightly sour expression, but had to admit now probably wasn't really the time (or the most private of places) for anything. She sighed - quietly, but dramatically, her feigning somewhat marred by her blush - and slid her head to the side to give Ellie's ear a little nip in silent promise to hold her to that offer of distraction. And with that she made her way into the Wreck Room itself, looking around with significantly more cheer (which, for Mara, meant a less dour expression) about this whole 'training' thing.
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After a bit of disorientation, Mara glanced between Jessica, Quirk, and the room. She was quiet for a moment, head turning to take in the room and the chairs; she frowned a bit and rubbed one of her arms where a gauntlet had been only seconds before. beat the final boss? - not fast enough - Jessica beat me - mmh "Will stand," she finally replied, giving Quirk an awfully cold eye after everything she'd just been through. "Don't trust you to not have chairs over trap doors to giant spiderwebs or minotaurs."
