Fox

Matt cycled quickly through a grateful look toward Raina, a cautious look toward the dogs barely-visible at the edges of the fire, and as friendly a look to the ghost as he could manage...which, it turned out, was pretty friendly. "Absolutely, your highness," he said, stepping forward into the space Raina had cleared as much as he dared. "The problem with your court isn't you, of course! It's just...missing something. Something important." The ghost was incensed, still, and a bit confused - but curiosity was crawling around the edges of her offense, and that was perfect. That's what he'd wanted last time, and couldn't get; too little known, too many concerns. He rolled the top of his paper bag open, reaching inside to present his 'gift'. "What's a princess without a knight by her side?" The teddy bear was maybe a foot tall, as brown and cuddly as it game, though it was old - even in the fire's uncertain light it was a little worn around the edges, threadbare on at least one limb and it had long since lost a sword for its scabbard. And it did have a scabbard - a real one, teddy-bear sized, made of some kind of hard fabric to complement the comical knight helm that covered most of its head. Matt held it out, respectfully, even if the fire was much too close for it. "Who knows how anyone's supposed to sleep with no one to protect them, right? I know I can't anymore."

GM "Incomplete?" The ghost turned flawless eyes around the graveyard, and then back to the would-be critics. "It is perfect! It is always perfect, because I made it perfect. It cannot be wrong!" She raised her arms, gesturing at the unimpeachable beauty of their surroundings. The fire raised, too, an eager attendant showing support for its mistress as flames tried to encroach upon the flammable - now the grass did begin to scorch and burn, little rivulets of red snaking their way into the path toward the teenagers. Their shadows danced and shuddered, stone crosses and old broken stone casting awful shadows against the ground and walls. Shadows with claws, and eyes. One to the left almost made it into the circle of fire when Matt's dog hit it like a bullet, having long since discarded its mundane form - fur like smoke and eyes like coal charged into the thing, the claw that grasped, and dragged it scraping back into the night as the fire grew higher. "What," demanded the ghost, "what am I missing? What would you know!?"

Matt let out a held breath, stepping forward - or as forward as he dared - with the paper bag in one hand's death grip. The ghost was in front of Matt, and Matt was in front of Raina, so it was Fang, behind Raina, who spoke - just at the edge of the light, and her attention only briefly turned inward. "She remembers him," the dog growled, softly. "That is good. Do not turn around, we will protect you from outside. You protect Howl." "I am sorry," said Matt, with genuine sincerity. "When I first met you, I didn't understand. I'm...dumb that way, sometimes, see?" His grin was less genuine, but it was friendly, and disarming. "And it is good to see your court! It's beautiful! But I think it's incomplete."

GM "Visitors to the court?" The voice was, annoyingly, sourceless - but they didn't have to wait for long. They could feel her before they could see her, warmth radiating out and around them, and (most concerning) they could feel the fire, crawling outward and along stonework without scorching it or browning the weeds. To Raina's senses it was unmistakably magic, like someone had wrapped the graveyard in a thin layer of fire that burned, quietly, without fuel. It spared the path between the gravestones, at least, for now. The worst of the fire followed the stone stairs up the tiny hill to the tiny mausoleum, and from there strode the ghost, stepping silently through the weather-sealed doors. She was beautiful, albeit chastely so: the very picture of a storybook princess, tall and regal with fine features and finer clothes that, like her, were spun of spectral hues of orange and red, tattering away into nothing at the edges. Long hair blew away into nothing on a wind no one could feel, held back with a fine crown of embers. "You've come again." She even moved gracefully, barely touching the ground as she floated down the stairs, fire moving with her. She had no rage, no anger, but no fear - a pure expression of regal disdain. "Are you still mad? There shall be no madness in my court, because I say so," she ordained, turning empty eyes to look at Raina. "Maybe you're here to apologize for him?" Somewhere, out beyond the light of the fire, something was moving without quite getting close enough to be seen.

Matt gestured northwest, and northwest they went. He'd been acting like a spring wound too tight ever since popping up outside Raina's last class, and graveyard or not, dark of night or not, Matt seemed like he was glad to finally have something to do. "Sky, Moon, left," he ordered, with a lot more confident authority than one could usually eke out of the young man's voice. For all his faults he had a lot of experience handling his dogs, and in that arena he was unmistakably playing the role of Master, right down to the steady efficiency in his hands as he gave directions. "Hunter, Ob, right. Fang, you're on our backs, so you've got the hard job; give me a bark if the others have trouble. Sorry, girl." The dogs were gone, disappeared into the shadows by the time they hit one of the small mausoleums tucked away in the far corner of the graveyard. "The ghost ought to be right around here somewhere," he said, turning to look at Raina. "Pretty sure she's been hiding out under some of the old stonework. I don't think she's got the full going-through-solids down yet, but she can slip through the cracks pretty-"

Ah - Obscure is inherently an area attack (lower-case 'a'), so the normal Area (that is, the extra) types and choices don't apply. It's just built into the effect already, no need to pay for it more! If you want your character to be mostly within human range but a pretty good fighter, I recommend going heavy on dodge and shoring your defense up with some light protection - either through some minor psychic reinforcement, or a lightly-armored costume (which would just be Protection in a device). You can also buy Protection via Equipment, if it's low-ranked enough - see the Modern Armor section of the core rule book, page 141, for ideas. Equipment's a little dangerous to play with (it's super cheap, but your GM can just take it away from you because they said so), but on a budget it's a decent option until your character can make, empower, or acquire better.

Mathmathmath. Combat Notational thing: Base attack and defense is 2pp a point, not 1pp a point - 4 base attack and 4 base defense could be 8 + 8 = 16, not 4 + 4 = 16. Attack Focus (Melee) 6 would bring Mannequin's total melee attack up to +10 (4 base + 6 melee), not +6, so you're shorting yourself pretty severely there. With +10 melee attack and +4 Strength, Mannequin would have a +14 Grapple bonus. Wrasslin'! With +16 Toughness (+4 Flat-footed), Mannequin would have a Knockback of -8/-2. Skills I count only 62R of skills, here, so you're shorting yourself two ranks. Equipment Something's gone a little funky in your equipment quote block. Trying to use those inner-quotes takes me to your WIP Character Building page, too, which is a neat trick. HQ costs: Large is 2ep, Toughness 10 is 5ep, 8 features is 8ep, for 15ep total, not 12ep. Still within-budget for the Equipment 3 feats. Powers Anatomical Separation has as a feat what I think was probably meant as just a descriptor. Area and Regenerating are Extras, not Feats, for the Snare effect. Move Object with a -1 flaw and 5 feats would cost 18pp, not 28pp. Keep in mind that since its attack bonus would be +8 with the accurate, it would be soft-capped at 12 ranks when used as a damaging power. Selective Attack is an extra, not a feat; Obscure 6 on these three senses would be 4pp rank (visual is 2pp/rank on its own, the others are 1pp/rank each). With Selective Attack for another +1pp/rank and 6 ranks, that's 30pp already - plus Subtle 2 is 32pp. Independent is an extra, too, and should be categorized as such, but it's +0 so it doesn't affect the cost. Nit-Picking The final pp tally at sheet's bottom still reads 150pp. Overall cost is correct, though, at 153!

Neat! Let's see, mostly minor stuff here.... General Characters should always hit their combat caps - for a PL7, your attack and damage should average to 7 and your defense and toughness should average to 7. At their finest, this character has a PL7 non-damaging attack (the perception-ranged stun), a PL6.5 damaging attack (the darts), and the defenses of a PL4.5. That last part's going to be a problem, I'm afraid. I'm okay with the very-slightly-undercapped offense because the Stun and non-damaging psionic effects will carry you fine, but with 2 Toughness your character's going to get knocked over and KO'd as soon as a villain so much as looks at you. New characters need to meet their defensive caps - characters that don't are uniformly disappointing to play as soon as combat starts, trust me. Combat With Grappling Finesse, you get to apply your Dex to your grapple score - so with a +3 melee bonus at a +3 Dex bonus, you'd have a Grapple bonus of +6. Huzzah, wrasslin'! Feats Attack Specialization gives you a +2 bonus to a specific attack or weapon; given the math on your sheet, I'm guessing you meant to buy Attack Focus (Ranged) 2, not Ranged Specialization 2. Powers You don't need the Variable Descriptor on the Stun - it's already 'putting them to sleep'. We aren't going to charge you a power point for the basic description of the power you want to use; we're not that cruel. This frees the point up to buy something else, or you can just leave it unspent for now (as slots in arrays are not required to use up their whole budget). I'm not sure I follow the Obscure power on the utility belt. If I restructure it a bit without changing the mechanical parts, it'd look like this: Obscure 3 (Smoke Bombs, Visual; Feats: Progression (Area) [30ft radius], Progression (Range) [25 10' increments] [) [11/13PP] So, you could create a 25' or 50' radius obscure effect, and you could center it anywhere between you and a spot 250' away (though you're getting pretty inaccurate after so many range increments, if the GM makes you roll to place it for some reason). But this only costs 8 points, not 11. I'm afraid I'm not sure what you meant with Lingers, though - I recommend looking at the Independent extra (a +0 extra for sustained effects that you don't control after they're out), and the Slow Fades power feat (to make Independent effects last longer, fading away more slowly than normal).

"....yeah." Matt frowned, largely at himself, as he pulled in toward the graveyard proper; the years had gone by entirely too fast for his liking, and he'd had few ideas on what he could do after school was out. "College...probably isn't happening. Not gonna be able support myself with my music. That's as good a suggestion as any, I'll give it some thought." That was, fortunately, not a line of thought he had a lot of time to dwell on, for better or worse. "Almost there. Any last-minute questions? Last chance to back out before you have to be around crazy ghosts."

"....yeah, sorta," Matt reluctantly replied, with the downer tone of voice normally reserved for people who could never make the fun parties because they had a closing shift at work. "It's...that's the kinda thing I promised to explain after. It's...complicated." He frowned, thinking too deeply on something, before realizing that he'd almost missed their exit. That was always the advantage of night driving - not so many cars heading north after dusk. You made good time. "That, I guess, or odd jobs. The dogs....aren't expensive, but I've gotta eat, can't always rely on the school for that stuff. Gotta pay for gas, buy stuff sometimes if I'm lucky. Even the car was...uh, windfall, and took a lot of fixing. Haven't got Fred's crazy chemistry stuff to get money, and even I don't know what Riley does."

"I think almost twenty, last time I counted, but I can't have them all around at once," Matt absently explained, hanging a right onto SR6 toward Lantern Hill. "When I was a little kid I could only manage one or two, though, so I guess either they're getting better at it or I am. Probably both." "Both," confirmed at least three of the dogs in unison, though it was almost lost under the sound of the road. "You'll know if she starts up; she's...she gets dramatic, near as I saw. Fire'll start up all around her before she tries to throw it at us, but that kinda thing might risk burning us without her meaning it, and that's the kinda thing I hope you can help suppress without making her mad. And, yeah, resolving business is the idea. The bag's not...her stuff, her stuff's gone. You, uh." That was not a happy thought. "You don't turn into a crazy fire ghost for deaths that keep your stuff intact, y'know? But it oughta help." He glanced over at Raina, that tiny bit of wry humor almost making it back out. "Everyone likes teddy bears."

Matt looked down at what he was wearing - which was his costume, minus the gloves (which weren't built for bandages), and no mask (because he felt weird wearing it at night for ghost stuff), and opened his mouth to almost make a couple of self-conscious noises before deciding he just...had better not. "....no," he said, finally, looking uncomfortable. "It's not a formal thing, just...wanted to blend in a little. You can change if you want, but I don't think the ghost is going to care." The car wasn't the fanciest thing Raina had ever been in, but the seats were comfortable (newly-upholstered, probably, if not expensively so) and it drove surprisingly smoothly as Matt directed it west. "I'm...pretty used to just running around with the dogs," he admitted, thumbing back toward the open rear of the car where his dog was enjoying the wind...along with four other similarly-large canines that hadn't been there when they'd set out. "So I'm trying to figure out if there's anything helpful to warn you about. The ghost, she's...uh, fixated? She's not really all here, and it's probably easier to play along because she doesn't take it great when you try to reason with her otherwise."

Matt looked actually, genuinely hurt for a moment, but he buried it too-quickly under his usual care-free apathy, and a small measure of genuine gratitude at the finalized offer of help. "Right," he said, straightening out as Fang got to her feet. "Meet you there." Matthew Rivera was waiting at dusk as promised, still flanked by his dog - and a car, an old El Camino in a black that blended in fairly well with the quickly-dimming light. Unusually for the normally-dissheveled young man, he'd dressed up, or something close to it: a black vest with gold trim and clasps above nicer-than-normal tight black jeans and old, durable boots. He'd had to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to allow for the bandage (and some lingering end-of-summer heat), but even it was in somewhat nicer condition and of better fit than his usual fare. He was also carrying a large, unmarked paper grocery bag, contents well-hidden with the top rolled down into a handle. "It's probably not as good as flying," he said - presumably about the car, not the bag. "Better than walking or running, though. The ghost's in Lantern Hill, in an old corner of the graveyard, last I knew...she should still be there, though she'll probably wake up soon. Ready to go?"

Matt almost argued the 'cluelessness' part, but clicked his mouth shut before he'd started - that was probably not a productive path to go down. "Tonight's probably best," he admitted, grimacing at the imposition. "Tomorrow, maybe, if you want some prep time. Nobody's gotten hurt yet, and I kinda want to keep it that way if I can." He ran a hand through his hair, long black locks falling in front of his face a bit as he took another breath. "It's not a deal negotiation?" He shrugged, frowning at the idea. "I'm...asking a friend for help, I guess. Which I don't like much, and I'm hoping I can make it worth your time later, is all. It's...not a personal thing, but it's important, to me. I get that I'm cagey about some stuff, but I promise I'm not trying to drop you into any awful danger - and I'll answer any questions you have after, if you want. As a favor," he added, with a hint of shrewd humor that fell away almost immediately. "It's not super safe, though, no, and if you don't wanna help or end up backing out 'cos of it I totally get that. I'm not gonna hold you to helping solve my problems."

"Yyyyyyyees," Matt said. Fang was laughing - a distinctly canine noise, but unmistakably laughter none the less - and he was pretty pointedly ignoring her. "That's about it. If you've got anything that can ward an area against....ghosts, basically, that isn't fire and can be set up before hand, that'd also be pretty useful. If not I can make the dogs take care of that part. It stretches 'em thin, but they're pretty sure they've got if if they need to." He grimaced, pulling his not-so-good hand out and rubbing the bandage again. "It's not not dangerous, but if stuff falls apart it wouldn't be hard to cut and run. The ghost hasn't really figured out flying, and neither has the crap it's attracted, so worst case you could just take off straight up and there's nothin' either can do about it. I just figure I'm running out of chances to do this gracefully, and I want to make this one count. Two favors, minimum."

Fang harumphed, and - robbed of her entertainment - sat on her haunches to watch the conversation. Matt paused a moment for open appraisal; no outright rejection of hard skepticism, but he probably should have expected better. That was good, though. "Why I want to help is...complicated?" Fang made a snorting noise, but Matt was undeterred, frowning. "Can I promise to explain that after? It'll be easier, if stuff goes well. The ghost is, uh." He had to pause for that one, too, chewing on his words. "....did you hear about the fires over by Lantern Hill? An old store, the house, the one tree?" The tree, at least, had gotten some minor news - not because the tree itself was any special, but because it had somehow managed to burn to charcoal in the middle of a grass median without scorching any of the surrounding flora. Not world-shaking heroic combat, but enough of an oddity to be worth an article in the recent events page of a newspaper or a quick article in online journalists' feeds. "The ghost's...not doing well," he said, fluttering one hand in the air uncertainly. "She doesn't really get what's happened, so she's stuck, and she's causing problems. I'm pretty sure I've got a way to unstick her, but it's touchy and she's almost as all-about-fire as you are and she's attracting...attention?" Something about that 'attention' Matt really didn't like, but also didn't feel like elaborating on right away. "Trying to get to her and deal with the fire if things get touch-and-go and deal with whatever she draws in is more than I could do this time. The dogs wanted me to get help, and they're...probably right."

Matt hated this part; he pulled his good arm out of his pocket and ran it down his face, trying to figure out if he had a good angle that wasn't lying or wouldn't lose him the help he felt he needed from a friend. In his extremely limited experience with a very small sample set, nobody ever responded well to this part. What did he have to lose but a third of his population of friends? Or more. Word got around. "I promise Fang's not gonna eat your monkey," he said, a bit more put together. "She just likes messing with people. Most of 'em do. Please don't set my dogs on fire, though; wouldn't do any lasting harm, but they wouldn't like it much. And the help is...not illegal? And not suspended as long as nobody catches us not meeting curfew, and I don't think they really enforce that on our grade. I'm...trying to help a ghost," he explained, as if that made perfect sense and was a sane thing anybody would say. "The ghost is not big on being helped. And normally that's not a problem, but this one's trouble and kinda complicated and I could really use the backup."

Matt's hands were trapped in his pockets, but the way his shoulder twitched probably meant he'd reflexively gone to touch his forearm; still, he just shrugged. "Got burned a little. I've had worse," he assured her, "but that's kinda why I'm asking. I'd rather not, uh, get more of these, and I'm not really dumb enough to not get some help if I need it." "And we spent three hours convincing you to not get yourself hurt more," said the dog, in a voice like gravel and grave dirt. It was looking up at Merlin still, and when he'd grinned, it grinned - too many teeth, too clean, and having too much fun antagonizing. "....well, okay, and that. It's not that dangerous, I'm trying to help someone and it's not working out so great." He was trying so hard to NOT explain while he explained, while still being helpful. "I've got what I need to make stuff work, but it's hard to deal with my thing and the fire and other crap on a probably tight schedule, and...that sounds dumb and sinister. Eugh." He took a deep breath, the dog looking at him with a distinct lack of pity. "Sorry. I promise it's not."

"Naw, I get it," Matt said, nodding; he was just plucking now, like he was trying to tease out some unfinished song from the back of his head. Which, in fairness, he probably was. It filled dead space, anyway. "Diff'rent strokes, and all that. If we all listened to the same stuff all the time, the world would be a pretty awful place. All the good music sorta mixes together, influences other stuff...even if I don't like some new pop stuff, it inspires someone, and maybe they make music I do like, y'know?" He shrugged, the motion of it throwing his strumming off for a moment. "Nothin' lasts anyway. Hating on stuff wastes too much time." There was silence for a beat, and he frowned, looking up from his guitar. "I, uh. I don't know what a duduk is, though. Is that an instrument or a band?"

Matt's dog looked up at Merlin with too-keen eyes, like a well-trained guard dog watching a squirrel - calm, patient, but with avid interest. Matt had almost started his reply when he noticed, and opted instead of reach down and flick the hound's ear. "Be nice." The dog almost looked admonished. It at least made a reasonable effort in that direction. "I just meant that it's not the end of the world," Matt explained, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was imposing, and he knew it, and he hated it, and it showed. "If you're busy I can figure something else out, but you're first on the list. You do the magic and fire stuff better'n anybody - how're you on anti-fire stuff and wards?"

Matt had been waiting for her. He'd been trying ever-so-hard to not look like he'd been waiting for her, and on a normal day he probably could have pulled it off with his well-honed apathy and a set of scout dogs, but there was something under his skin and it was making him somewhat less than subtle. And so he paced, or tapped his foot, or drummed fingers against his knee to some song in his head, all while periodically pulling at a bandage wrapped tightly around his left forearm. He'd tried rolling the sleeves of his black overshirt down to cover it, but they didn't cover quite enough of his wrist and at some point he'd just given up. He'd given up on a lot of things, really. "Raina!" So much for playing it cool, well done. He pulled at the bandage again, unconsciously, pulling back a bit so that she didn't feel like she was getting ambushed outside her last class for the day. "It's...not that big a deal, but I could use a favor. Maybe. I'd definitely owe you one - heck, I'd owe you two, if it goes well."

Eh, probably not - he's not running in fear so much as taking advantage to salvage a plan that fell through. For thread purposes, he got away with the Mysterious Alien Science Device, which I'm sure won't ever have any implications whatsoever when or if these guys show up again.

Matt nodded, still strumming a bit as he made his way over to the speakers. "Yeah, the best metal mixes with classical stuff. I was never as big on the metal that's all growling into a mic," he admitted, pausing long enough to grab a cable off the ground and plug it in, "I mean it's good when you're really mad but it's not as nice to listen to. Can't imagine performing it, I'd tear my own chords out." "The good stuff, though...." He played a riff with a lot more energy, the sound of it amplified through the speakers he was now sitting on. "And.. my.. eyes sweep a shore that was always there, a blood-red line through the sonisphere...." His voice hadn't quite rounded out into adulthood yet, but it had long since found a good, rich singing range, if still somewhat unrefined. "Dunno if I've ever gone to droning music to make me happy - to chill out, maybe, if it can just kinda hang out in the background."

"What- hey! Don't touch that," Alice insisted, though she didn't actually pull away. She might have known that Sofia was the better medic, but she definitely knew she was honor-bound to protest at least a little. "It's fine. I didn't give you permission. 'sides, my immune system's awesome. And, uh, you're welcome," she added, quieter. Alice didn't get thanked a lot. Alice wasn't sure what to think of that, so she decided not to. "Nothin' named 'Jigsaw Man' is any good," she said, louder, trying to balance twisting around (to finally get a good look at Anna) and pulling her shirt back down (without exposing too much of a suspiciously toned stomach). The woman had a good arm, and that was respect-worthy, but retired cops had good arms too. "Aren't Aztecs the ones who killed people and ate hearts?"

"Hmm." Matt flexed his hand a bit before starting in slow, strumming to something he could hear in his head. "Guess I don't know Red Fang. My music was basically whatever I could get on a really bad radio, or whatever I could find on cheap CDs at thrift stores, so I guess it's a little hit or miss." He paused for a moment to tune a string, frowning. "....yeah, okay, free CDs too. Never had the dogs dig through trash, but they're pretty good at finding stuff, y'know. I owe 'em a lot. So I guess," he added thoughtfully, staring up as he strummed a faster set of chords, "if I don't know 'Red Fang', it's basically their fault." Fang dropped his backpack on the floor and made a huffing sound. Matt almost grinned. "So classic rock, huh? Y'pick that up yourself, or get it from a parent?"