Fox

Sense Motive roll vs Fawkes' Bluff, DC20 (1d20+10=27) No knife for you, Guy! All the same, let's not let him try that again. Melee Attack roll vs Guy Fawkes (taser hand) (1d20+10=24) DC20 fort, if that hits. IC pending results.

I am back...sort of. My internet access is basically a work-provided Blackberry, so my posting speed and availability is pretty awful. Expect no chat presence (doesn't work), slow and relatively short posts, typos, and priority to active threads with more people.

Indira followed the others, remaining largely quiet and letting Eve and Corbin plan; it was less the silence of a shy person and more the silence of someone satisfied to let others handle things they were more suited for. Until the subject of food came up and she thought she should probably chime in, anyway. "I do not eat, myself," she admitted. "But I would be happy to join you for a meal, regardless."

Dragonfly - Wrath ArcheStern, Earth Orbit Dragonfly had long since run out of the patience required to stand still, alternating between pacing and patching one of the many bunches of dangling wires and equipment. Several nearby screens contained complex, unrefined readouts and raw code, the information available dominated by a single number: 15%. Mara had been in her warehouse when the broadcast had gone out; like most her attention had first been on the strange fish-man, wondering what supervillain had decided to cause trouble this time. Then her eye caught the shadowed figures behind him, and her blood had gone cold. Frantic checking and a computer-assisted search later had led her to ArcheStern, which didn’t make her feel any better at all.... 32%. Three of the circuit boards for this piece of her little project had burnt out already; she salvaged a piece of another console this time, in the hopes that it could handle the backwash of building power. A few minutes. She needed a few minutes.... By the time the world was well and truly in trouble Mara had already been planning, and the wide-spread chaos only put a sharper edge to her designs. Not long after the broadcast she appeared on ArcheStern itself, space unraveling to drop the young engineer in a fairly random location. Just as important was the small machine she carried, which she wasted no time plugging directly into ArcheStern’s data lines before tearing through what few, mistakenly-loyal humans remained like a hot knife through butter. 73%. Dragonfly reflexively glanced at a monitor cycling through security footage as she stepped over an unconscious scientist, dimly noting that the people still on their feet across ArcheStern were putting up a better fight than she’d anticipated, even with the station’s defenses turned against its occupants. It would have been impressive if they weren’t trying to stop her...or anyone else. She couldn’t know if she was the only person who’d followed the signal here, but if there were others she hadn’t seen them, and wouldn’t have cared. Ellie wasn’t here. Ellie wasn’t here, but the equipment was, and evidence that they had been here maybe she’d taken too much time preparing or designing something that could deposit her here safely, maybe she shouldn’t have spent those few minutes designing a viral, dog-brained AI to sweep through the station, maybe.... Maybe. She didn’t know where to go from here, until she realized how bad things had gotten on the surface, spotted a large and growing threat in the city. She could get back down there, search by hand...or maybe.... 100%. Most of the screens went red, and somewhere in the back of the room a piece of equipment that had served its purpose cooked itself, releasing acrid smoke as it died. Most of the communications array of the satellite - she had to assume the same array that had let Archeville or whoever take over broadcasts - had been repurposed, inside and out, lashed together here and out in space with a number of salvaged cables and equipment. It wasn’t pretty, but it was functional, and it had only two functions. Smaller, ancillary systems drew a bead on the city below, her viruses turning their attention away from the remaining threats aboard the station and down to the large, writhing tentacle creature making its way through the town. She was drawing a bead too, lights dancing behind her eyes as equipment calibrated and oriented itself toward the planet in precise, stuttering clockwork. On the little planet called Earth, every television set and radio within two blocks of the monster (those that still worked, anyway) lit up, playing sights and sounds of a wrecked and ravaged room. The walls were covered in burn marks and open panels, the floor littered with a few unconscious - but breathing - bodies. In the middle of it all stood Dragonfly, the lower part of her helmet pulled away to expose a set and angry mouth. Tears or sweat had cut lines through the dirt and grease on her face and her armor showed no small signs of damage (or, oddly, some salvage), but she stood strong, unwavering. And she had only one thing to say: “Hey!†she shouted, echoed in a thousand voices across several city blocks. “F*** YOU!†The repurposed array unleashed the fury of a very angry, very clever young heroine. As the televisions and radios cut out into static something shone up in the sky, far up above the clouds...just before a massive, rippling beam like god’s own wrath cut down through the atmosphere.

Indira blinked at Corbin, raising her eyebrows. "Ah - I see," she apologized. "I am sorry; English is my fourth language, and I am often surprised I ever learned more than two. Figures of speech are...they often take some getting used to. 'Poke a sleeping cougar'. Hmm." "It sounds like I missed something exciting," she observed, listening with great interest as Sharl defended...himself? Rogue? "Though I am glad none of you were hurt. I am afraid I don't know much about buses, here or anywhere - I usually traveled on foot." "That would likely be harder to do at any respectable speed, here, without drawing attention."

As soon as the passengers had been able to disembark from the plane Indira had - with polite apologies - disappeared into a bathroom, showing back up in a purple tank top and khakis as the others reached the information desk. Her clothes were, if not scandalously loose or sheer, at the very least more fitted and casual than what she'd worn under her parents' careful oversight. She'd grown more relaxed in general as the flight had gone on, really, still terribly polite but acting less like she was walking on eggshells. The teenager was highly interested in the sights and sounds too, though she apparently tried harder to not show it; those dark brown eyes betrayed her, though, darting curiously around as she followed the others outside. "It is a very interesting place. Cougars - they are the large tan cats, I think? I would not mind meeting one, though it would seem rude to make it wake up just for us."

Yeah, Indira can't justify even an untrained check on most Earthly things, so I'm not even gonna try there. She knows it's called Canada, hockey's big there, and the trees probably don't try to eat you! Probably. Earth trees don't do that, right?

Kinda wanted the Puppet Master. Ah well.... Your result for The Fantasy RPG Class Test... The Spell Hand 18% Strength, 30% Bloodlust, 37% Intelligence, 35% Spirit, 50% Vitality and 17% Agility! By combining powerful elemental magic with martial arts, the Spell Hand has no trouble defeating any foe in its path. Spell Hands interestingly use specific martial arts styles to manipulate the elements around them allowing them to quickly and easily launch blasts of earth, wind, fire, and water at their enemies. Spell Hands who have truly mastered martial arts and elemental magic can even unleash blasts of deadly lightning and powerful light-based energy blasts from their fists. Although, their magic may not be as powerful as an actual spellcaster, their advantage is that they can use their magic extremely rapidly and effortlessly. Furthermore, by seamlessly integrating their elemental magic with their martial arts, Spell Hands can produce deadly attack combinations that no other spellcaster can. The strongest Spell Hands have high levels of agility; however this is not necessarily needed because Spell Hands can use their powerful moon magic to increase their low agility by transforming into the Tiger Mage. Spell Hands have combined their quest for knowledge and wisdom with their desire for justice to become powerful warriors. Most Spell Hands follow the path of light though it is not unusual for a few to become power hungry and occasionally stray to the side of darkness. However, Spell Hands most often seek harmony with the world and desire to live peaceful lives. Congratulations on reaching this formidable class! You have not mastered any Hidden Power granted by the Genie.

Indira paused, holding terribly still while she thought that one over. Finally, though, she carefully made her way over to the door they'd come in through, opening the door only wide enough to extend her head on an impossibly long neck up the stairs and just around the corner of the still-open upper doorway to the outside city. "I think we will be okay," she said (apparently from her body, still in the room), her three black eyes opening back on the rest of her before her extended head made it back down the stairs, "If we hurry. And thank you, all of you - this...this means a great deal to me. It cannot hurt, too, to have these people...how would you say? Off the streets?" With a little haste and some good fortune (and judicious use of a superpower or two), the heroes were able to get themselves lost into the gathering crowd well before law enforcement personnel pulled into view. They took one look down the stairway into the room and suddenly became the first of many, a collection of police and medics who would probably be spending the next few days trying to clear the area and figure out what had happened. Most of the unconscious goons remained unconscious, but one had woken by the time he was being loaded into a hospital van; he ranted, struggling at the straps he'd been bound with after trying to clutch at anyone within reach. "You have to listen," he was ranting, in clear English. "You don't understand! I don't remember! They were here. They did this! They knew! We were right! You have to believe me - THEY WERE HERE!!"

"I thank you for your concern," Indira said - hummed - as she climbed head-first down the crates, anatomy rearranging again to bring her upright as she touched the floor. The picture was displaying a hologram of a creature much like her, but bigger, less agile-looking...and perhaps a bit more bronze. She gazed at it with a great fondness, reaching out to touch the insubstantial image before shutting it off again. "But I do not know that we have a choice in the matter: this area is well-populated, and the commotion - especially the gunshot to my head - most likely did not go unnoticed. I am not an...expert...but I do not believe these men were supposed to be here, nor supposed to be this well-armed. It is inconvenient, but perhaps we may be best served by leaving before officials arrive to ask questions I cannot answer." She paused, and looked...amused? Without much in the way of facial features, it was subtle, but there was something in the eyes. "That we cannot answer, perhaps. We are all aliens here, in our own ways."

Dragonfly swore, though she made sure to do so only in her own head - no telling how well that thing could hear. There was just never quite enough time to put together a good plan.... probably Quirk's fault - maybe circumstance? - going to blame Quirk anyway - more satisfying She waited until the thing had turned away from her (in as much as she could even tell what direction it was facing; it was moving away from her, anyway) before stepping out into the doorway, raising an armored hand, and launching a twisting distortion toward the tentacled mass. [bg=#555555]"Am sorry if you're intelligent, reasoning. Diplomacy hasn't been working today. Willing to try if you are, but have to assume you aren't."[/bg]

:argh: Clever. Dragonfly abandons her planning. Surprise attack! Ranged Attack Roll vs. Tentacle Monster (blast; Power Attack -2/+2) (1d20 + 10 - 2=14) Well, hopefully that's enough if it catches the thing flat-footed. DC27 if it does. Initiative Roll (Speed of Thought) (1d20 + 7=21)

What she really wanted to was to just walk into the room firing, but she knew that was some frustration and tiredness talking; instead, Dragonfly frowned at the tentacled...the tentacled...what in the world (worlds?) was that thing? Whatever it was, she was glad she wore full-body sealed armor. But as far as she could tell it hadn't seen her yet, so she stayed where she was, as hidden as possible while keeping an eye on it and the room. Dragons may be awfully persistent and vampires may not want to admit defeat, but this thing...she didn't have a clue what this thing was, and she was willing to take the time to gain as much of an advantage as was possible.

Doop dee doo. Dragonfly at least attempts some Master Planning. Assuming she ends up getting enough time to do so: Master Plan roll (1d20 + 7=15) That's a +2 bonus, if she ends up being able to make use of it.

Wraith took stock of the room a final time with those big, featureless black eyes, watching with clear curiosity as Citizen and Sage made use of their respective talents. There wasn't too much time for gawking, though - what with the gunfire and commotion she couldn't know how much time they had before police showed up to ask uncomfortable questions about men and guns and soiled doorways. So she dropped back to all fours, arms becoming oddly-shaped legs again. Her club-tipped tentacles disappeared completely, vanishing into her back even as a number of short, small items like over-sized hairs or undersized feelers grew around her shoulders and neck, waving a bit in even the tiniest wind. Whatever they did they seemed to do a decent job of, as she turned her upper body a couple of times like a dog acquiring a scent and started climbing up - straight up - the side of a stack of crates. Two things were immediately apparent to Citizen's computer-diving: first, these men (and the larger group they belonged to, though how much larger just wasn't available in the data) were paranoid in a way that made most paranoid people look positively open-source. Their little network was literally a little network, maybe two or three computers hooked up to each other through a very small server, not so much as a single internet connection in sight. They had more of the same propaganda, a good amount of rather cryptic notes about recent and future events, and a manifest detailing - apparently - what was in the surrounding boxes and crates. Most of it was junk, some of it was laughably junk, but a few were inexplicably mysterious, and possibly alien. Other logs made it clear that they'd been buying - cheap - whatever seemed unusual or useful from local thieves and underworld sources, and were now in the process of packing it back up and shipping it...somewhere. No matter how hard he might look, that information simply wasn't anywhere in the computers. Eve found, fortunately, relatively little that could possibly need editing. For all their paranoia-fueled information gathering and connection-drawing, these men knew depressingly little about anything, little fish in a larger group. There was the distinct impression that they were generally told enough to keep them loyal, to make them feel like part of something, and to feed their alien-based (and often, more generally paranormal-based) fears and little else. One cell of a larger body whose size was unknown, given a mission but given precious little authority. Her first goon painted a pretty solid picture of how Indira's things had gotten here, though. This bunch had been paying local thieves to steal anything unusual or remotely odd-looking, payment on delivery and no questions asked. Some punk had seen her with something shiny and odd and found an opportunity to steal it, and the now-unconscious rifle-lovers had been almost beside themselves with excitement when they found out what they had, hoping not only to use it as leverage for a better position than where they were but also maybe to use it to bait or track down its owner. Said owner made a rustling noise from atop a crate, pulling packing paper off an odd-looking bone and a small plastic frame.

Indira was right on Cobalt Templar's heels, leaping through the slowly-shutting door only a second or two later. And 'leaping' was certainly the operative word: a sleek silver something entered hurling through the air like it had been shot out of a cannon, skidding to a halt in the room on four clawed limbs. Gone were the brown hair, the dark eyes, the clothes - the thing that hit the floor (with surprising grace for what was clearly a good bit of weight) looked for all the world like it was animated polished steel, searching around the room with three solid black eyes as a set of club-tipped, whip-like tendrils waved angrily through the air above it. It didn't take too long for those eyes to take in the surprising lack of conscious enemies, however, and the creature looked...a little embarrassed. It - she? - stood up, front 'legs' rearranging to be a bit more arm-like (if apparently boneless) as her waving weapons retreated to a more manageable length, hanging idly down from where her shoulder blades would be if she had any. "Well, then," she said, without a mouth; wherever on her body the voice was coming from, it came with a slight hum, like she was being autotuned or talking through a speaker. "That was easier than expected."

With +7 Toughness they're incapable of making that save. Go ahead and post; we're out of combat.

Opening the door as a free action was approved in chat, because I don't believe in making characters waste actions on dramatic entrances. That save is indeed impossible for the minion, so that's an auto-KO. ROUND ONE 16 - Citizen, 2HP 14 - Sage, 1HP 12 - Cobalt Templar, 3HP 11 - Paramilitary 6 10 - Paramilitary Leader 10 - Paramilitary 1 6 - Paramilitary 4 5 - Paramilitary 2 4 - Wraith, 3HP CT's up (once Sorus has posted IC). The door Sage opened is self-closing, but closes relatively slowly. Consider it either open or mostly closed by the time you act, as best benefits whatever entrance you would like to make; it's a free action to go through in either case.

After her experiences in the vampire's home Dragonfly advanced uncharacteristically slowly, peering around the hallway as she went with every sense her body and suit afforded her...though the somewhat slim pickings there reminded her that she really should make some more upgrades. file for later - doors in good condition? - supposedly no word for generations - implies good construction - maintenance? magic? - lack of light - remaining human residents unlikely on large scale - select survivors, non-human residents, true abandonment....

The room - for it was less a building and more a very large, glorified basement - was in chaos; this was apparently due to the hero's rather dramatic arrival and its natural state of being. Crates and boxes were spread out here and there, filled with assortments of vaguely unidentifiable objects, some neatly arranged and others rather haphazardly thrown into their containers. Oddly enough they seemed to be in the middle of packing, as opposed to unpacking. Their job might have been made easier if they hadn't decided to cover their walls in pamphlets, posters, and maps. The first two ranged from amateur hour to quite professional-looking stuff, but the message was generally the same: they are here. They are watching. They come from beyond the stars, and if the propaganda splattered across the walls, tables, and floors (litterbugs, tsk) was to be believed, they were here for everything from women to resources to conquest to a rather unnatural fascination with probing humans where humans would just as soon rather not get probed. The map was something out of a conspiracy theorist's fever dreams, all pictures and newspaper clippings with pins and string making connections both real and imagined. It'd be a pretty laughable thing, all told, if it wasn't also full of what looked like ex-military guys with rifles, shotguns, and body armor.

Toughness Save(s) vs. Sharl's Attack, DC26 (1d20 + 7=10) KO 1 Toughness Save(s) vs. Sharl's Attack, DC26, because I'm an idiot and forgot to tell IC to roll twice at once (1d20 + 7=16) KO 2 Two down, six to go. ROUND ONE 16 - Citizen, 2HP 14 - Sage, 1HP 12 - Cobalt Templar, 3HP 12 - Paramilitary 3 11 - Paramilitary 6 10 - Paramilitary Leader 10 - Paramilitary 1 6 - Paramilitary 4 5 - Paramilitary 2 4 - Wraith, 3HP Sage is up.

Initiative Rolls (1d20 + 2=10, 1d20 + 2=5, 1d20 + 2=12, 1d20 + 2=6, 1d20 + 2=22, 1d20 + 2=11, 1d20 + 2=20, 1d20 + 2=10) That's seven guys and their leader. They're well-equipped and trained, but not exactly expecting someone to bust into their hideaway; they'll be operating on minion rules (which should also keep combat short, 'cos my computer time's going to get pretty unreliable pretty quickly, here!). All of them use the basic Soldier sheet from the back of the core book, bumped as follows: Defense is +7 (+3 flat-footed), Toughness is +7, Attack is +7, Fort/Reflex/Will are +6/+5/+4 in turn. So they're not terribly impressive. ROUND ONE 22 - Paramilitary 5 20 - Paramilitary 7 16 - Citizen, 2HP 14 - Sage, 1HP 12 - Cobalt Templar, 3HP 12 - Paramilitary 3 11 - Paramilitary 6 10 - Paramilitary Leader 10 - Paramilitary 1 6 - Paramilitary 4 5 - Paramilitary 2 4 - Wraith, 3HP 5 and 7 spend their turn cautiously advancing toward the door. Because they can't see what's on the other side (and really aren't prepared for heroes) anyone charging through will catch them flat-footed. The rest are milling around throughout the room in confusion and more than a little paranoia. Citizen is up.

Indira blinked again, and then chuckled; she looked like she really needed that laugh. It wasn't apparently only at Eve and Corbin, however, as she stopped and indicated a rather nondescript door set into the side of an equally nondescript building. "I did - and it is here, or was here yesterday. I even managed to acquire a key, though I could not do much more before having to leave out of fear of being caught. I do not know exactly how many people are inside, so we may have to act with stealth or ensure that we can-" As she was talking she'd pulled out a small key and opened the door; apparently she'd thought it was safe to do so because this door merely connected to stairs and a hallway leading to another, heavier, automatically-closing door. Unfortunately, this layout had apparently also made a man in cheap urban fatigues decide it was a great place to sneak off and have a cigarette. The man and the alien stared at each other for half a second before leaping into action - she whipped out a kick that sent the guy flying down the stairs to land unconscious on the ground...but not before he dropped his pack of cigarettes, grabbed his shotgun, and fired point-blank at her face. Through her face. The shot tore right into her head and out the other side, the sound of pellets hitting the opposite wall of the alley almost lost in the echo of the shotgun's blast itself. She didn't fall, however. She didn't even really move that much at first, what remained of her expression indicating surprise more than anything else. The inside of her 'wound' wasn't even gruesome, if one cared to look: under her skin she was apparently pure, solid, and metallic, a silver that wasn't so much as bleeding anything discernible as being blood. "I think," she said, head already filling in as shotgun-displaced metal flowed back together, "that stealth is no longer an option." Down past the door at the bottom of the stairs, a great deal of commotion could be heard in reaction to that gunshot....

The attack on Indira is fiat'd for comedy and storytelling; expose'd! Indira does pick up an injury, though. She wasn't ready for that! The attack back is fiat'd for storytelling and to keep one guy from blocking people off from the real fight (nobody wants to have to spend their attack on one guy or try to overrun him). These two things more than even out, so no HP for Wraith. Time for init! This will not be the most difficult battle in the history of ever, though. Initiative Roll (1d20 + 3=4) Apparently getting shot in the head is bad for your init. Who knew?

Gaian Knight put his hands back in his pockets, the rather large quantity of gemstones he'd conjured from goodness knows where disappearing as they'd appeared - when out of line of sight. I'm really going to have to figure out how that works. "I'm pretty sure I could stick it so far underground it'd be a chore to get it back out...but if they dug it out of the sea, I guess that's not too reliable. I'm all for leaving it with the Master Mage, assuming, ah, somebody has him on speed dial, or something. I've never even met the guy, so I'm really not sure how you get a hold of him when you need his help."