Fox

Dragonfly was leaning up against some crates again, ignoring her headache through willpower and a lot of practice. "'Mr. Scratch'," she supplied, eyes closed. "Common alias 'Dr. Daniel Webster', owns the warehouse. Ambulatory disaster zone has been looking for him for a long time. Tracked him here. Book may give leads on further pursuit." She sighed, gingerly touching the side of her head again. "And you're welcome."

Preemptive Master Plan roll, just to get it out of the way if we decide to go that route: Master Plan roll (1d20 + 6=16) So that'd be a +2. Might help. Standard disclaimer: blah blah not effective unless she has the time blah blah GM's/teammates' call blah.

Dragonfly frowned, silently tapping a finger on her leg as she backed up a bit to stay out of the way. "....not on this short of notice," she quietly replied. "Could try to come up with something, possibly while he works on bringing down the wards, but words aren't likely to work if he fails and the...houngan...notices. Suppose I'd suggest a plan, then words while he works on wards, then a fight if he fails or they attack. No surprise there, though. Large advantage to give up...could be worth it." She shrugged, closing her eyes and remembering the room. "Can't even guarantee I can find us an advantage. Not much to work with. But could give it my best."

Dragonfly spends her round...er, being stunned and defensively PL0.

Dragonfly was a bit too busy to respond, skidding back along the ground - still on her feet, by some miracle of her low center of gravity - and smashing into a wall. The impact knocked her a little senseless, and her view of the world fuzzed for a moment. had to - just had to make them - that strong In her knocked-around and dazed state of mind she was in no way equipped to keep her link to her gauntlets active, and some small part of her brain that was still keeping up watched in frustration as her force field twitched, flickered, and unfolded back into normal space. that's - that's not good - need to get it together

Hand on his sword, Gaian Knight wasn't far behind; he waited for the King and some of his forces to rapidly abandon ship before jumping out himself, falling in slow motion for a moment before rocks and debris from the ocean floor swept up to form a platform under his feet. A few extra rocks just floated in the water behind his shoulders, a small army of earthen soldiers ready to be sent into battle. He grimaced behind his rebreather as he watched the manta rays assault the ship, and the aftermath of the ones that had suicided into the engines. That's...honestly pretty horrifying, he mused. Vampire squid vampires, vampire mantas...what in the world are we going to have thrown at us next?

Nick may as well have been speaking Martian for all that the words made sense to her; she caught 'houngan', and then a lot of what sounded like magic. always annoying - swear they make up names just to sound important "Right," she whispered back. "Has to be conscious to maintain the wards, or can we bring them down by knocking him out?" Her eyes - and visor - scanned the room, and she didn't much like what she was seeing. "Don't like the look of the guards. Trained, professional. Redhead as well, possibly. Woman...mmh. Can't discount her either. Doesn't look like a threat, but means little in this city."

Time for Dragonfly to get her inventor on. Jury Rig with an additional +5 penalty is harsh, so we're going for something at least relatively feasible. Device 2 (upper-arm doohickeys; 10dp, hard to lose) [8pp] (technology) A pair of relatively ornate, solid-looking arm bands. The parts that aren't steel, glass, or cloth look positively delicious. Immunity 10 (cold descriptors) [10dp] Difficulty: 15 (jury-rig) + 5 (unknown penalty) + 8 (pp cost) = 28. Dragonfly's Craft (Mechanical) is +15. C'mon, Invisible Castle, don't fail me now! Spending an HP to jury-rig: Craft Mechanical check, DC28 (jury-rig) (1d20 + 15=31) Sweeet.

"Hm. Some." She folded her arms, making her way over to the little workshop and taking stock of what was on hand. "Chemical compounds are available, but given supplies and time constraints....would take careful consideration and engineering to be effective. Almost more tempted to engineer protection from the cold - 'Snow Queen' may be literal. Often is - conjecture only. Has the - ah. Have you," she said, turning to address the elf, "seen her fight first-hand? Know anything about what power, if any, she carries? Doubt we'd have the time and supplies to make more than-" Dragonfly blinked, taken aback a little. "Not certain why. Did say I likely had Christmases when I was very young...low single digits. Most likely enjoyed them, to the best of my ability. Can't go back and catch up for lost time, wouldn't know how." She paused, and tilted her head. She'd already started gathering supplies for...something, pulling a bit of string out of a pocket and measuring her own bicep. "...mmh. Know how, but only literally. Try not to mess with time, anyway. Mostly. Complications, theoretical science, likely to be oversight groups...too dangerous, too much hassle. Seems like a poor project for the time being." Now that she had apparently decided what it was she wanted to build, the actual building process was almost frighteningly fast. Held back only by her lack of super-speed, Dragonfly's hands moved with the quick and sure motion of someone who's been building strange things for a very long time. In short order she had a matched pair of heavy and solid-looking arm bands, rather ornately made out of steel, gold, and glass, with a generous helping of the tasty-looking materials as tubing and as what looked suspiciously like moving parts under where there were seams or glass bits. With a noise of minor satisfaction, she pulled up her jacket sleeves and clasped them to her arms. They immediately lit up a soft red in the glass - or was some of that glass transparent sugar? - and seams, and she gave a happy sigh, rolling her sleeves up so the devices were partially exposed to the winter air. The snow around her was undisturbed, but she no longer seemed affected by the cold in the slightest. "Much better," she said, with a tone somewhere between 'victorious inventor' and 'just snuggled into a warm blanket'. "So much better."

Dragonfly consciously popped her ears as she worked, forcing herself to not pay any attention to her burning lungs, or the obviously low pressure, or rapidly-diminishing supply of oxygen. Her world narrowed to the task at hand, the repairs that needed to be made, and the steps needed to complete the repairs. This part could be wired into that one to patch this problem and that part would be redundant; these wires were good only for the scrap heap but she could rearrange things to fit and salvage some wires from this part, which wouldn't need them anymore.... The low pressure was starting to hurt a little. would help if lungs were stronger - should have built the suit by now - would have saved my lungs the pain - never enough time - never ever ever enough time

Good god. Constitution Check vs. Suffocation, DC10 (1d20 + 0=6) Egh. Next round she'd become disabled, and she has repairs to do, still. Dragonfly burns her last HP to re-roll that, which is a roll she can't possibly fail. Even on a success, though, she takes 1 con damage, so she drops to Con 9 (and Str 8/Dex 12, from the fatigue). Bookkeeping, for my own sake: 1 bruise, fatigued, -1 con

Toughness Save vs. Armor Guy 2, DC27 (1d20 + 7=21) Hmph. Fail by 6, bruised+stunned. Could be worse. EDIT: temporarily forgot what stun MEANS for Dragonfly. Woops! She's now Defense 0. Also: Concentration Check to maintain Force Field, DC17 (1d20 + 5=8) And the force field goes down. Toughness 0.

Dragonfly was rather surprised by how well that had worked. A second check of her gauntlets showed that the guy was...surprisingly well-contained. Amazingly so, even - the usual instability was not there, and he showed no signs of being able to even try to get free. She would have to remember to diagnose her gauntlets later on, and see what had gone differently; maybe she could reproduce the effect. A truly inescapable cage would be an extraordinarily useful tool to have.... She realized that she was about to step on an obviously unsafe and creaky step barely a second before actually doing so, and frowned. focus - save the science for later Skipping that step entirely and keeping a much more careful eye out, she silently followed the other two upwards.

Excellent. Thanks, Dr. A!

Mara hesitated, feeling a lot like she'd been stabbed. For a moment she just looked...sad, like something had struck an awful chord. Whatever it was, she fought it back down. "Normal..." She sighed, and stood up. She picked up her gauntlets off the foot of the bed (though, notably, she didn't turn them off); lights danced behind her eyes as Jessica's armor-holding wristwatch formed in one empty glove. She carefully set it down on the nightstand. When she spoke it wasn't angry, or even upset...just tired and quietly bitter at...someone else. Life, maybe. "Normal...maybe. I wouldn't know." She put the gauntlets in her bag and left the room, silently shutting the door behind her. But rather than leave she found a chair, pulled it up to the wall next to the door, and sat down. Inside her bag, the gauntlets continued their shifting glow. She'd wait as long as she had to, even if she didn't know how long that would be. too long probably - always too long

Mara really didn't know what to do with a crying friend - she wasn't very good at offering comfort, and she knew it. Instead, she sat in silence, letting Jessica get the tears out of her system. And feeling awkward. "You're brilliant," she said, when she couldn't bear the quiet anymore. "Cutting edge of technology at...17? Not very normal. Fly around saving people in a suit of powered armor most militaries would kill for. Not very normal. Just slightly less normal now than you were. Just...a difference. Still who you are. Who you were."

"From my mother. And...yes. I think you do. Not exactly an expert, but pretty sure. Triggered by nerve regrowth treatment, or...mmh. Not my area. If I had more time and inv--" She stopped herself short, shaking her head. "Nevermind. Congratulations. Brain mutation." She eyed the gauntlets, sinking back into her chair a little and folding her arms over her stomach. "Didn't...mmh. Owe an apology. Didn't turn them off. Turned...you off. ....sorry. Can't hear like you, anymore, but I used to. Still sort of a background hum. Blocking field was one of the first things I learned to build - I like the noise, but sometimes wanted silence. Gauntlets aren't really designed for it, but I made do. ...sorry for the smell. Suspect I burned out a couple parts."

In chat, we came upon a bit of a quandary with how Comprehend Language works. For ease of reference: As we figure it, the second and third rank are relatively straightforward - CL 2 lets any listener understand you, no matter what languages they speak, and no matter what language YOU speak. CL 3 lets any listener understand you, and lets you understand any speaker, to boot. CL1 seems to be EITHER: OR This is only confused by most Kenson builds (KENSOOOOON!) which have omniglot-like abilities simply having Comprehend 3. Which means that either they took the third rank, above (anyone understands them, they understand anyone) but can't read/write (which would require an additional rank), or they took the first rank twice (speak any one at a time, understand all at once), and their third rank is read/write. .....help?

She blinked. always thought she knew - not usually very subtle - mmh She raised her hands, holding them up in the air and remaining perfectly still to show that she had no obvious equipment, no toys in her hands, not even a visor over her face. And without that visor, it was all the more obvious when lights danced behind her eyes like tiny fireflies blinking on and off as they milled around in her head. She didn't say anything, but the speaker on a nearby EGK turned on...and didn't display a heart rate, but instead showed a line that was jumping all over the place to play a very familiar theme at about half speed and volume.

Dragonfly, to her credit, managed to keep working. Barely. It didn't stop her from talking, though, as she tried to hurry up on the work. "They what? Need to have a talk with the decontamination designer. Almost reasonable as a fire-prevention system but the lack of regard for safety...." She shook her head, trying to focus on getting this whole thing fixed. "Also need to have a talk with whoever did this wiring!" Another twisted rat's nest of melted copper and plastic joined the first, pulled right out of the wall for being unsalvageable or unnecessary.

Stealth Check, DC10 (1d20 + 2=10) Man. Squeaked by.

built them too well Dragonfly growled, frustrated that they were still on their feet at all - she'd hoped to have the suits and be on her way by now, and the longer this went on the more and more likely it became that something - anything! - would go horribly wrong. Half the enemies were knocked out, but these other two were just...too stubborn. Still, it wasn't like she was going to stop trying. Another blast of twisting space got sent at one of the wearing-down criminals, for all the good she thought it would do. if I could go back in time - smack myself on the head....

Ranged Attack Roll vs. Armor Guy 2 (blast) (1d20 + 8=15) I...sincerely doubt that hits him. But, hey, DC24 Toughness if it does.

The young woman crossed her arms, tapping a finger and frowning. "Suppose I may have had some when I was very young. Long time ago...even perfect recall only covers so much. Decent assumption, though. Not like I'd--" She paused, blinking, and shook her head. hate this place - hate the cold - hate my mouth "Nevermind. Not important." She clearly moved to get her attention back on the map. "Not terribly stealthy, suppose that puts me on the...mmh." She peered at the layout, frowning. "'Powerful members', though I suspect I'm not. Distraction, maybe. Decent enough at that. Much you can tell us in detail about the enemy? Methods, abilities. All fairly helpful."

Muhahaha. Poor guy doesn't even GET a save if he's a minion. Crits, oorah! Picking as the crit effect (bless you, house rules): Dimensional Pocket 3 (Extras: Duration 3 [Continuous]) [15/18pp] Muaha. Muahahahaha! You get to stay in the void....forever. (Or until Dragonfly remembers you're in there.) This is awfully cheesy, but a normal attack would have one-hit KO'd him for the same impact on the plot.