Fox
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Freedom City Guidebook
Freedom City PBP: A How-To Guide
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GM The glowing, dome-like head of the last remaining 'monster' turned to look at its unconscious compatriot, down at its own already-cracking, flickering field of willpower-driven force, and brought up its hands in wordless surrender. Putting villains through walls wasn't exactly a spotlight to the clouds, but in Freedom City it was a pretty good way to get the attention of the police none the less. By the time they arrived to clean up the remaining goons - conscious and otherwise - the small angry man had regained his senses and could just be heard, nullified and disappearing into the back of an armored law enforcement van, about how "they'd all see when the extra terrestrials came in force". His language was a lot less polite than that, but it's what would go into the report. And so, the day was saved...more or less. With the villains in custody and the threat passed, Wraith and Ghost Girl re-entered the building to see only two of the scientists from upstairs speaking to the police - the third was resting in a chair by the wall, holding an ice pack to a goose egg on his forehead and trying very hard to not look at anything. "I-i-it was Bole, you see," Doctor Hitch was saying to the crime scene tech, who was taking notes and looking like he'd been enjoying the doctors' collective company for about five minutes too long already. "In all the ruckus, w-w-we thought t-t-to move the d-d- the device to a secure safe. Only the three of us have the passcode. Old...old security rules, you see?" "Yes!" Doctor Whale was gesturing, though heavens only knew what his gesturing was meant to convey. "He yelled at us, once the heroes were gone! Oh, yes, you!" He paused briefly, turning his gesturing the heroines' way. "Once you'd gone, yes. He said something about how it was all supposed to be so simple, and we'd messed everything up, and then he hit poor Doctor Browning on the head, and took the device, and...and we don't know what happened then." The tech was somewhat less than impressed, waving his notebook - full to overflowing with tiny pencil notes - at the specter and her metal friend. "Bole's car is missing, guessing he drove off just as the fight down here started. He's long gone, but he's our problem now. You did good."
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"Nah, pretty healthy," Matt said, either not getting or completely deadpanning the joke; he picked his guitar back up, though, slinging the strap over his head as he listened to the beat. Moon was looking downright stricken at the loss of belly rubs; Sky gave him a disdainful look and pinned Moon's head to the floor with one paw. Apparently oblivious, Matt waited a few beats and played a few chords - imperfect, but he was going from memory. "Something like that? It's been a while," he apologized, adjusting his grip and experimenting once more. "They're, what, a 70s band? 80s? I think I've only got a couple of their songs, myself, on some 'best of' album."
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Alice tapped her staff against the floor, some unseen mechanism collapsing it back into a thin rod. That got stucked into the small of her back - a hidden sheath? - as she pulled up the corner of her shirt to eye her side. "M'okay," she judged, poking at herself; she was bleeding, but not much, and carefully wiping away some shirt-and-parkour-induced blood smear revealed a small but shallow mark and a tiny bump, which she immediately began poking at. "Don't think it got in far - pretty sure it hit shallow, got in a little under the skin. Hurts," she admitted, gently pushing the pellet forward until it reappeared at the tiny wound. She didn't seem to react to the pain much, so either she was being terribly honest or she was a little more accustomed to small injuries than she'd let on. "Not too bad, I guess. I might borrow a bandage from your bag, if that's okay? I don't wanna bleed all over my stuff."
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Mara had secured a corner table for herself, Ellie, and a couple of the drones she hadn't sent back - though without orders, those were mostly sitting on the table watching the rest of the room. "Think I liked the arctic better," she tiredly observed, poking dubiously at what passed for food on an isolated research station. She'd retracted the lower half of her face plate some time ago, but hadn't taken the leap to eating - having money hadn't truly spoiled her, but she did so love her creature comforts and under normal circumstances - or with better ingredients - she'd have made something herself if it meant no fancied-up rations. "Arctic has troubles, but also nice magic and happy people and meeting pretty girls on Christmas. Antarctic has maybe-dead frozen world-destroyers. Not ideal." Condemning herself to a bite of what was probably macaroni and cheese, she pulled a small frown - not as bad as expected - and turned to her girlfriend. "Doing okay? Lost track of a lot during science bits. Happens, but shouldn't. Don't want to ignore you."
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Nah, per chat I'll pass and let Sofia have a go at the guy by the van.
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Fang seemed more content to remain where she was, on guard duty over Matt's bag, but Moon was completely and entirely shameless, leaning into the scritches and, eventually, rolling over to present the world's softest belly. "They have that effect," Matt drolled, watching Moon with a little more amusement than Fang was. "Don't mind Fang, I bet I know where she's been and she'll be all full on petting." Fang betrayed nothing. Matt plucked a string on his guitar's neck, shrugging. "I play whatever, I guess? Hard rock's always a good choice, it's got a lot of passion in it, but I'll give a shot to anything that catches my ear?" Matt grimaced, well aware that his answer was unhelpfully vague. "I like to practice a bunch of stuff instead of dedicating myself to any one thing, I guess. Makes you learn a lot of different styles, even if it gets annoying - gotta come in here to do metal, for example, it sounds dumb without big speakers."
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Hrm. Not great ambush territory. Alice will ready an action to ambush anyone who gets too close to the van. Not sure that's worth an IC post on its own, though, so feel free to move forward without her.
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Alice Initiative Roll: 1d20+14 32
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Alice looked up from her bag, coiling her rope together as she scooted forward just far enough to glance in a mirror. "What? Why, they're not gonna...." She trailed off, scooting back immediately. "....aw, c'mon." She pushed back to her seat in the back of the van, one hand shoving the rope into her little pack and coming back with an odd matte black rod barely the length of her forearm. "Why do nice people never want you to steal things?" she asked Sofia, sounding more disappointed than worried, though she was tensing up in a way that didn't really match the words, turning her oddity over her hand. "If you've got that stun gun, you should get it out."
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Gaian Knight / Tiamat (maxed) Strange Visitors (1) Dragonfly (maxed) The Nothing From Coming For You (5) Wraith Horrorshow (1) Eclipse - Grim Fragile (1) Gremlin Fast Food (3) Knock on the Door Job (7) Roll GK/Dragonfly posts down to Gremlin to get her to 15, and toss the rest (1 post, if I've done my math right) to Eclipse so that she at least gets something. Ref point to Eclipse, please.
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"Nah, I get it," Matt shrugged, "wasn't judging. Some people've gotta burn a lotta calories, for whatever reasons. Bummer about not being able to check stuff out in LA - was wondering if you had any recommendations, in case I ever got a chance to head west. But hey, never too late to start, right?" He knew full well which dogs were trying to sabotage his attempt to meet new people, of course, but he turned his head anyway to give himself an excuse to know. "Looks like we've got Sky and Moon, and Fang's the one with the backpack. Normally I'd say to keep Moon away from your stuff, since he's kind of a goof? But Fang'll keep him in line." Fang turned to look at Moon, who deliberately looked anywhere but at Fang.
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Will Save vs. Damage, DC34: 1d20+6 13 Yeah, that'll do.
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Matt held up a palm to wave off the offer of a granola bar. "Nah, wouldn't want to take one from you - just ate, anyway. Got busy in the afternoon, so I had kind of a late dinner. Thanks, though. More for you," he added, chuckling. Bereft of skritches, and apparently too proud to beg, Sky got up and wandered to the edge of the room to sit with another dog that...hadn't been there when she turned to root through her bag. "That's...yeah," Matt noted, frowning at that dog and the third carrying a backpack (Matt's?) off toward one corner of the room. "Puppies sorta ends up being the problem. If it was just a dog I don't think anyone would care most of the time. They're good when you get to know 'em, though, promise. But LA, huh?" He cocked his head, genuinely curious. He set his guitar down on its end, letting the neck rest on his leg. "Never been. I hear it's got a great music scene."
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Reflex Save vs. Snare, DC22: 1d20+6 22
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Alice tossed her stolen gun aside to put a hand to her wound, bringing it up to look at the trace amount of blood. It didn't even hurt that bad - though experience said it might later - and hell, she'd hurt herself worse training or on jobs. She'd been shot at with better bullets by better marksmen. But that wasn't the point. "You shot me," she said, glancing from her hand to the thug as Sofia dropped her assailant. "You. Shot. Me." Alice's eyes were vengeance and fire, taking a running leap not directly at the gunman but up and off a nearby wall like some tiny, demented parkour artist. When she came down, her now fully-extended staff came with her, directly on top of the man's head. "Don't shoot people!"
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Move Action: Acrobatic Feint. My rolls have really not gone well lately, so I'm just going to auto-10 this for a 29. Standard Action: Charge and hope the penalty to defense doesn't get Alice shot again. Melee Attack Roll vs. Thug 3 (Charge +2, Power Attack -5/+5): 1d20+12+2-5 12 That won't do at all; if she has to go back with a lower KO count than Sofia she'll never live it down. Melee Attack REROLL vs. Thug 3 (Charge +2, Power Attack -5/+5): 1d20+12+2-5 13 Well, reroll rules bump that up to a 23, so that'll do. Alice is down to 2HP (between this and the previous reroll), and she's at -2 defense until her next turn. (15 base + 2 Damage + 2 Str + 2 Sneak + 5 power attack=) DC26 Toughness save for the thug. (Which means I shorted myself by one on the previous disarm! I need to be better at math.)
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Matt's face fell blank for a moment, and his dog issued a noise suspiciously like canine laughter. "Aahh, sorry. Dang." He thumped his head sideways against the neck his guitar, wearing the expression of someone who'd been sure they were doing so very, unusually well up until that point. "Sorry. Matt - Matthew Rivera," the boy replied. "That's my fault. I'm the weird kid with all the dogs - got into kind of a fight a year or two ago that made the rumor mill, and the dogs are, uh, noticeable," he said, glancing down at Sky, "and without a lot of people coming and going I forgot manners, I guess. Good to meet you."
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It was a testament to their experience as a team that Wraith didn't even flinch as the shockwave went through her; it was a testament to her faith in their combined intimidation that she only spared the still-standing, supposedly-pacified bodyguards a glance as her body rippled and reformed. "If you try to leave," she said, the mass in her arms gathering together into heavy, spiked instruments of violence, "we will find you." None of them appeared the least bit interested in stepping between the spooky ghost or the alien thing, collectively holding up their hands and getting out of the way as quietly as they could. Several had already started doing so, anyway - vorpal scythes, it seemed, were above their pay grades. Wraith shot out of the hole in the wall just as the first of the thugs was starting to struggle his way free from the car; his reward was to be driven back into the cement, Wraith delivering a one-two punch to his rapidly-deteriorating psychic shell. If he was smart, he'd stay down. They were so very rarely smart. A few meters away, the less-damaged holdout had managed to roll his way free of a bent lamp post, but hadn't quite managed to find his feet yet.
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Wraith'll go ahead and charge the guy who's a little more hurt. But first, some shapeshifting! Elongation 1 (5ft) [2pp]Speed 1 (10mph / 100 feet per Move Action) [1pp]Strike 5 (Feats: Improved Critical [19-20], Mighty, Power Attack) [7pp][2 + 1 + 7 = 10/10pp] Melee Attack Roll vs. Thug (Charge +2, Prone +4, Power Attack -5/+5): 1d20+12+2+4-5 31 Thaaaat'll do. DC32 toughness for the thug. Toughness Save vs. Wraith, DC32 (Bruised -2): 1d20+12-2 24 Fails by 8, so his daze refreshes and he picks up a third bruise. Wraith has 2HP left, I believe, so let's fast-track this. She'll surge for another attack. Melee Attack Roll vs. Thug (Prone +4, Power Attack -5/+5): 1d20+12+4-5 26 That'll do. Toughness Save vs. Wraith, DC32 (Bruised -3): 1d20+12-3 23 I'm dying here. Fails by 9. Round 1: angry man: KO 4x goon: standing down >21: Ghost Girl (5 HP) 20: Goon 1 (PL10) [staggered, dazed, prone, bruised x4] 19: Goon 2 (PL10) [staggered, prone] 12: Wraith (Bruised x1; 1 HP) Ghost Girl's up.
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A padded finger made a tik-tik-tik sound as it was tapped against a leg plate, Dragonfly watching and listening with ever-increasing dissatisfaction. "...maybe," she said, giving half her attention to making sure that audio log hadn't sent anything untoward back across their connection. They'd been awfully careful setting it up, but when dealing with powerful megalomaniacs there was no such thing as "careful enough." "Might depend on who he took with him to 'die among his enemies'. One-man army, desperate pride gambit? Last military force? Actually dead, frozen and waiting, where....?" She was all frowns, behind her helmet. Too many known factors. "Concerned by poison metaphor. Armies fought into empty tomb, unknown residue. Maybe paranoia, maybe not actually metaphorical. Strongly recommend not retrieving probe; planned not to anyway. Not worth risks, even with best medic on our team."
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Sky was indeed a pretty puppy, and knew it; he'd tried to shoot Matt a betrayed look when the ear scratching started, but it almost immediately fell away in a wash of pure canine satisfaction, eyes closed and leaning into the hand that brought the scritches. Matt laughed - serves you right, he thought Sky's way - and finally took the offered hand for a gentle handshake. "Nah, I don't think you were being rude. Heck, I've been worse - and anyone Sky approves of is okay by me on a first meeting, even if he's easily bribed." He released Corinne's hand, dropping his own back in his pocket. "As for etiquette," he said, mulling that one over, "I guess just be friendly? I'm...not exactly a great teacher for 'making friends'. I dunno. My advice is just to not ask anyone about what they do that brought 'em here unless it's obvious or they're offering or it's immediately important, or whatever. Touchy subject sometimes. Everyone's got a story, y'know?" He didn't appear to have a follow-up to that, but his ear pricked at the music from her headphones. "Cheap Trick?"
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Matt grinned despite himself, an easy lopsided thing. He'd almost made it to the handshake before Corinne got embarrassed and turned her attention to a worthier target, but by now he was pretty used to the dogs making better friends than he did. "S'cool," he assured her, shoving his free hand in his pocket for lack of anywhere else to put it. "I did hear about your dad, but I, uh, basically don't know who he is. So don't worry about it." His dog was leaning into the scratching, tail thumping against the floor again, but in the couple seconds of dead air that followed it turned one yellow eye toward its master in...reproach? Criticism? "Ah, right, yeah. Corinne, this is Sky," he said, nudging the dog's flank with one toe. "Sky, Corinne. Sky's not quite a puppy anymore, but I bet if you get him behind his ears he'll still make puppy noises."
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The end of Corinne's set was met with applause - genuine applause, as near as anyone could tell, issued from the hands of a Matthew Rivera that hadn't been in the room when she'd started. He was in old jeans and a black tank-top, otherwise unadorned and accompanied only by an old, beaten guitar and a dog that was...grinning? It was an uncanny sight from an otherwise mundane hound, but the rumor that Matt's dogs were Weird somehow was old news. Even that grin seemed appreciative, though, as did the tail thumping against the music room floor. "Uh, sorry," Matt apologized, adjusting the guitar strap that ran over his shoulder. "Didn't mean to disturb you. Guess I didn't expect anyone else down here at night - most of 'em clear out by 8, doing homework or sneaking out for parties or whatever. I can clear out if you just wanna practice in peace," he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the side door, "just figured I'd pay the complement. You gave those drums a beating."
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Alice shrugged, pulling off her little backpack and seemingly taking inventory. "I mean, I guess," she said, pulling out a small matte cylinder and peering down its length for damage before sliding it back into place. "I do this for a living?" She made a grumbling noise at one end of a piece of rope, it having taken some kind of imperceptible damage over the course of the job. That'd need trimming, if she wanted to make sure it could always carry good weight; at least it was toward the end. She blinked as she put it back, glancing up again. "Not this this, I usually do my own thing. But the city's not that big, and you're all good at crime, so you never know. And hey, if you ever need sticky fingers, maybe. I don't usually do the whole crew thing, but it was..." Fun wasn't the word. "...interesting?"
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Toughness Saves vs. Damage, DC27: 2#1d20+12 15 13 Well, alright, then. Glad to see my truly awful defensive rolls apply to jerk NPCs, too. Goon 1 fails by 12. Goon 2 fails by 14. So, a stagger and a daze for both of them, and for failing by 10 or more they fall prey to that knockback. I haven't played with Knockback rules much. Let's have fun! Their fields don't actually give them extra mass and they aren't impervious (prototypes!), so we'll say they have a -6 knockback modifier - against a rank 20 knockback, that's a Knockback 14 and they're easily taking an express trip to the nearest wall. Brick with some iron reinforcement, we'll call that Toughness 8. Toughness Saves vs. Knockback Damage, DC23 (wall): 2#1d20+12 21 29 Thug 1 picks up a bruise (staggered, dazed, bruise x1), Thug 2 doesn't (staggered, dazed). The wall takes 10, for an 18 - which cannot possibly cope with a DC29 knockback hit without getting holes punched through it. And y'know what's less forgiving than brick? Cars & city infrastructure. Toughness Save vs. Knockback Damage, DC25: 2#1d20+12 23 28 Thug 1 actually got a 22, from his bruise (which I'm going to tally dynamically, because I can), so he picks up another. The second thug apparently does okay. And that's where they'll stop. Round 1: angry man: KO 4x goon: standing down 21: Ghost Girl 20: Goon 1 (PL10) [staggered, dazed, bruise x2] 19: Goon 2 (PL10) [staggered, dazed] >12: Wraith (Bruised x1)
