Fox
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Gaian Knight & Tiamat - Dragonfly (maxed) Count Your Blessings (3) So Great a Cause (1) Wraith The Traveler in the Dark (3) Eclipse Nothing Lasts Forever (6) Grim And He Built a Crooked House (3) MAXimum Load (4) Monster Mash (4) Dragonfly rollover to GK, please (unless I've miscounted; if on formal counting there's enough to get Grim to 15 and send at least one rollover post GK's way, do that!); ref point to Eclipse.
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APPROVED!
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Eclipse took a deep, quiet breath, mind plotting things out as she watched and listened. First, they were asked to track down killers - terrorists, members of these 'Spectrum Knights', who'd taken down a Star Knight in cold blood and run to hide in neutral space. Then they were just potential terrorists, misled and tricked into picking bad allies. Then they were kidnapping victims, thrown into goodness knows what situation and told stars only know what lies. And the more she turned that clip around in her head, the more holes it had. A kick into an energy blade was vicious, sure, but only if it was intentional and cold-blooded.... She didn't like it. "I'm guessing you've already talked to Bie Yie," she observed, speaking up for the first time since the transmission started. "Wouldn't mind a transcript of that. A full copy of the recording we've all been watching, too. As much as we've all enjoyed the highlights -" - and her tone made it clear that she would have enjoyed just about anything else - "- it sounds like there's a lot of context here that might have....tactical importance."
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"Whatever it was, I believe they got it. Or, perhaps, at least some of it," Wraith mused, silver oozing out of the closest vent like someone was pouring mercury through it, slowly taking form as her mass came through. Her voice was as even as ever, but those who'd spend enough time around her could feel her frustration - the slightly-too-pointed fingers, the unnecessarily clawed foot scraping against the floor. She was a predator worked up for a hunt but suddenly bereft of prey. "We could not have anticipated the teleporters. Hopefully we interrupted them, and they did not get all that they came for. If we find a way to track them, we can at least prevent them from using what they took."
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"Bread cutting," Mara supplied in answer to Buffy's question; she wasn't running the kitchen, being slightly less domestic than a responsible older brother or experienced mother of two, but she'd already been giving a hand where she could to save herself the horrors of idle conversation with people who weren't Ellie. Food service, even in a casual setting, was an algorithmic problem: start state, end state, steps to get there. She could handle that. "Looks good," she evaluated, cocking her head at the bread. "Smells good. Should taste good, but served whole people will have to tear off pieces. Crumbs everywhere. Terrible. Knife," she announced, producing a well-sharpened serrated number with alacrity and precision that implied either great familiarity with the kitchen, or an excellent memory. "At normal speeds, please. Crumbs, sharp things, children."
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Even the dog looked depressed, head and ears dropping in kind to match its master's exasperation. Matt drew a hand down his face, wondering if this bad luck was his or Mischa's. Honestly, given how today had gone, it could be either.... "Never find him, huh.You even know where he was, how to find him?" he asked, scowling. "I need something to go on, man, or I'm gonna be stuck in here with you forever. Either tell me where your guy is, or tell me where he was so I can go find what's left of him."
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Grim has neither of those things! And the dogs aren't big on non-fiction.
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Eclipse had moved to the very edge of the transmission once it started, leaning back on the first unoccupied chair she found - not always a comfortable prospect, tail and all, but the military's traditional desire to offer a standard that suited everyone made the chairs just adjustable enough to get them somewhere comfortable without being too extremely low or high. And speaking of extremes.... She crossed her arms, keeping her expression as flat and unreadable as possible as she watched the transmission unfold. She barely kept that expression when Frankan made her opening, though, below the transmission's view, the end of her tail coiled against the floor a bit. It seemed a little too...perfunctory. Perfectly military, but not great for dealing with civilians, and a glowing example of why she'd hoped the Knight would do the talking. Not for the first time in her long and sordid career, the grey-skinned cyborg had some uncharitable thoughts about the negative impact becoming high-ranking military leadership had on one's personality....and not for the first time, she decided she might want to keep those thoughts to herself.
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"That is not an interesting truth," the dog noted, grin falling into disappointment. "I do. We do," it amended, regaining at least some of its personal amusement as it shot a look at Matt. Matt was trying his best to bury his nose in his cup without looking like he was burying his nose in his cup, in the vain hope that the smell of the drink could overwhelm the smell of its effect on Winifred. "....y...yeah. We do," he supplied, wiping at his nose. "Someone's not feeling great over there." "The one that gives pettings," the dog guessed, sniffing at the air with a dog's resistance to disgust. "I do not want your drink anymore."
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To its credit, the dog looked to Matt before answering - whatever its sass-laden or food-seeking behavior might have been, it was clear who held the leash. Matt hesitated before taking a quick sip of improvised alcohol and waving permission...an action he almost immediately wished he could take back when his dog laughed, flashing canine teeth and thumping its tail against the floor. "Haha! There are not enough of my brothers and sisters here for a dare. Truth! And then sausages." Matt took another sip and grimaced into his cup. "I'm gonna regret this. I already regret this."
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"Uh," Matt articulated, with all the charisma and social experience of someone who had only really been in this position with ghosts and such that he was working to send to the other side, where his secrets didn't matter. That, in turn, earned him a sour grimace as he realized he'd completely failed at the whole 'heroic secrets' thing, again, and didn't really have a graceful way to recover, again. Still, nothing to do but bite that bullet. And of course, even as he pulled his mask out and wrapped it around his head, the dogs were helpful as ever. "We did," one supplied, with certainty. "It's his name," said the other, as if Matt needed the reminder. "It's...not," Matt countered, tying the knot behind his head. "....sorta. 'Grim' will do, though - like the dogs," he added, pointing a thumb their way (which earned him a pair of grins and a couple thumps of tails against pavement), "not the reaper. Though, whatever works, I guess."
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Matt had been pretty happy to sit back and watch the others socialize, rusty as he was, but even he had to wince a bit at both the question Riley was asked and the boy's reaction to it. The would-be psychopomp and his dog both turned their heads to watch their roommate storm out of the room, frowning. The dog's frown lasted a lot less time than Matt's did. "Well! That was exciting," it said in a voice like rich smoke and gravel, craning its head back around to look at Matt. "Your drink must be very good if it does that to people. I want some." "You can't have any," Matt replied, taking a defiant sip. "Ain't good for you." "Fine. Then I want more sausage?" "Ehh...later. You'll get sick." "I won't." "Yeah, you will. And don't worry too much about Riley," he belatedly added, shrugging at Phaedra. "He's...he's a little Riley sometimes. He'll be okay. Maybe don't push that button in the future, though."
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Not many PL bumps, so they haven't been noted; send your congratulations HG Morrison's way, though, for hitting the Gold veteran award tier! Woo! Likewise, a hearty congrats to ShaenTheBrain - a belated award for plenty of general site contributions (such as his work with the TVTropes stuff) pushes him up to Gold as well! As ever, I am but a faultless trickster god-emperor flawed and mortal being, so if you believe any mistakes have been made in this month's post counts please don't hesitate to bring it to my attention, here or in PM. I'll get things sorted out as quickly as possible. And, without further ado, our pp counts for November 2015: alderwitch Bombshell: 26 posts = 3pp Nighthawk: 26 posts = 3pp Psyche: 14 posts = 1pp Phantom: 7 posts = 1pp Renegade: 25 posts = 3pp Almilee Fallout: 0 posts Rahman the Undying: 1 post = 1pp Shell: 1 post = 1pp angrydurf Phalanx: 17 posts + 8/22 GM = 25 posts = 3pp Ouroboros: 8 posts + 7/22 GM = 15 posts = 2pp Sandman: 23 posts + 2/22 GM = 25 posts = 3pp GM Posts: 12*2= 24 posts ChrisClark13 Brandish: 13 posts = 1pp Darksider42 Ruby Voxx: 12 posts = 1pp Ecalsneerg Arrowhawk: 4 posts + 3 (Geckoman rollover) = 7 posts = 1pp Equinox: 2 posts = 1pp + 1 (ref) = 2pp Geckoman: 3 posts + 2/2 GM = 5 posts = 1pp GM Posts: 1*2 = 2 posts EternalPhoenix Terrifica: 6 posts = 1pp Waverider: 2 posts = 1pp Queenie: 2 posts = 1pp Exaccus Ulysses: 3 posts = 1pp Moon-Moth: 8 posts = 1pp Fox Gaian Knight & Tiamat: 0 posts + 1 (Dragonfly rollover) = 1 post = 1pp Dragonfly: 6 posts = 1pp Wraith: 1 post = 1pp Eclipse: 0 posts + 1 (Dragonfly rollover) = 1 post = 1 pp + 1 (ref) = 2pp Grim: 14 posts + 1 (Dragonfly rollover) = 15 posts = 2pp Geez3r Bastion: 5 posts + 8/8 GM = 13 posts = 1pp GM: 4*2= 8 posts Gizmo Jack of all Blades / Jill O'Cure: 23 posts = 2pp Midnight II: 13 posts = 1pp Ghost Girl: 1 post = 1pp Set / Sekhmet: 3 posts = 1pp Reagent / Alkahest: 11 posts + 40 (rollover) + 20/20 GM = 71 posts = 4pp + 1 (ref) = 5pp GM Posts: 10*2 = 20 posts Heritage Grimalkin/Shrike: 14 posts = 1pp Miracle Girl: 14 posts + 14 (Grimalkin rollover) = 28 posts = 3pp HG Morrison Argonaut: 3 posts + 22/108 GM = 25 posts = 3pp Foreshadow II: 14 posts + 36/108 GM = 50 posts = 4pp + 1 (ref) = 5pp Glamazon: 8 posts + 37/108 GM = 45 posts = 3pp Roulette: 12 posts + 13/108 GM = 25 posts = 3pp GM Posts: 54*2 = 108 posts MisterShoebox Phantasmo - THE UNLIVNG!: 2 posts = 1pp Nick Ardent: 2 posts = 1pp Blue Fox: 4 posts = 1pp Nightingale: 6 posts = 1pp Willow: 13 posts + 4 (Blue Fox rollover) = 17 posts = 2pp + 1 (admin) = 3pp R. Bluefish Echo: 15 posts = 2pp Starlight: 16 posts = 2pp Vox: 0 posts Raveled Blue Jay: 0 posts Corona: 3 posts = 1pp Miras: 23 posts = 2pp ShaenTheBrain Kingsnake: 16 posts = 2pp + 2 (Rep Table, 20Q) + 2 (site contributions) = 6pp Thrude: 16 posts = 2pp The Newt: 0 posts TheRedGuy El Huracán: 9 posts = 1pp Thevshi Velocity: 2 posts = 1pp Tsunami: 4 posts + 16/36 GM + 2 (Velocity rollover) = 22 posts = 2pp Synapse: 4 posts = 1pp Paradigm: 5 posts + 20/36 GM = 25 posts = 3pp + 1 (ref) = 4pp GM Posts: 18*2 = 36 posts Tiffany Korta Blodeuwedd: 5 posts + 2 (GM) = 7 posts = 1pp Frostbyte: 6 posts = 1pp Miss Grue: 7 posts = 1pp The Traveller: 7 posts = 1pp Triakosia: 15 posts = 2pp + 1 (ref) = 3pp Voin Zhenshchina: 10 posts = 1pp Young Britannia: 2 posts = 1pp GM Posts: 1*2 = 2 post -
"Speaking from experience, about half what she can get done outside of it," Captain Eclipse supplied, all smiles. "Maybe a third, if politicians get involved." It was an interesting thought, though, and despite herself she inspected the hologram again, one eye dilating as a cybernetic eye zoomed in. "Still, she'd make a good crew member," she admitted, though she followed it with a shrug. "If you could get past the language thing. Pretty sure she had a translator last time; they don't seem big on learning useful languages for going off-planet. S'what you get when dealing with races that haven't hit faster-than-light yet, I guess. ....and I wouldn't want her bending up my ship. Only Rock gets to do that, eh?" She shot the latter a grin. "Might want the Knight to talk to Wander - or whoever we get - when it finally comes through, at least at first. Translators aren't perfect - maybe he'll get more out of 'em than we will."
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Matt was rapidly developing a headache, trying to keep his thoughts in order in the face of Mischa's...Mischa-ness and the worryingly-increasing list of pertinent information. "....okay," he said, scowling. "First off, you're calling off whoever you've got stalking your 'problems'. If I've gotta track them down, it's time I'm not spending finding your stabby dude." He paced a bit, wondering how real heroes dealt with this stuff; it was supposed to be busting some drug-seller, not...this. "Shoulda stuck with the ghosts," he muttered. Wait. "You got a list of people who got killed by your murderer?" he asked, glancing up at Mischa. "It'd be somewhere to start, if you don't know where to find 'im. Your Manaka supplier, too - if I were a stabbing psychopath, that'd be a pretty big target. Not gonna feel too bad about them if he beats me there, but I really don't want that trouble. Death's not worth it."
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"Wh--is not!" Mara insisted, setting her plates down. Her grump was not somewhat more genuine, if not somewhat over-defensive, and she crossed her arms, tapping a finger as she tried to muster an argument. "We've just teamed up against bad things, sometimes. And we've collaborated on some science things. And keep a couple of her bad secrets. And worked together a little. For a while. ....five years. ......no. Nope." Having successfully argued herself into a corner, Mara's frown deepened a bit and she opted for denial. "Nope. Mortal enemy. Could use her real name, anyway," she added, muttering, as she busied herself straightening out some of the seating and cutlery. "It would just get confusing."
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Dragonfly had been preoccupied with her creation while people indulged their well-deserved drama; apparently getting it started had been somewhat easier than getting it to stop, and she muttered a few words of what sounded like suspiciously foul Japanese before just shoving her hand in and bracing against one of the wheels as it spun. That earned her a quick jerk against her shoulder and a wave of something that washed up her gauntlet like a shockwave to blow one of the remaining plates off with a nasty popping noise, but it seemed effective: the device stopped moving, arcing the lest dregs of stored electricity against itself and whatever it had been grounded on as it whined to a halt. Shaking her hand, she finally turned to take stock of things. "....dinosaur," she noted, flatly. "....other people see that too, right? Or hit the ground a lot harder than I thought," the still mostly-armored wryly added, picking at the still badly-bent metal along her ribs. The cracked lens in her helmet emitted a well-timed flicker before dying out completely. "Who let him have a dinosaur."
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Matt was caught completely flat-footed, snapping his head around to look at Kimber like...well, like a startled teenager. No less startled when he spotted the scythe, and less still when his brain got caught trying to reconcile it with its apparent owner's cheer. The dogs had no such problems, acting for all the world like they'd known perfectly well she was coming, getting to their feet and circling the spectre with great curiosity. "Hello!" "Hello," they replied, grinning great canine smiles as they inspected her and her pet. The latter, at least, they gave a little more room - though one did carefully get Avro's attention long enough for the other to jump up and playfully paw at the edge of Kimber's coat, its immaterial nature doing absolutely nothing to keep the hound from gently pulling on it. "We like this one, Howl," it said, landing back on its feet as its partner backed away from Avro's quills and echoed the sentiment. "We do; she can stay. Does she give scratches?" "I, uh." Matt's brain had mostly caught up - at least, enough to absently snap, prompting his dogs to wander closer, still grinning. "...sure, if she likes, and isn't gonna...reap someone. If Nick's that guy," he added, thrusting a thumb that way, "then, uh, no. Dogs'n'I are here on our own."
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Wraith closed her eyes as soon as the mental image of the bank started coming through - or, rather, she ceased to have eyes, cutting her own visual senses off in an attempt to focus and commit the layout to memory. As soon as Kimber was done her eyes reformed, void-black almond lenses folding back out of her face. "I will sneak in to provide backup," she said, already putting action to words - she dropped low, growing long and sleek as she ran for the side of the building and switched to Eve's ever-helpful psychic network. --I believe I can sneak in through the vents, in case Kimber or the hostages require aid. I may at least be an unpleasant surprise if we must fight them.-- She barely slowed when she hit the side of the building, away from windows to spy from - up the wall without slowing, lengthening and flowing until she was thin enough to slip, like liquid, into the first vent she could find.
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"We told you it was haunted," said the dog to his left, sounding self-satisfied. "You didn't believe us," said the dog to his right, sounding indignant. "Yeah, well." Matt frowned at the building across the street, watching the medics deal with a man who was having a very bad day. In fairness, he hadn't actually expected the place to be haunted (Lantern Hill, sure, but a brownstone?), but he'd at least believed them enough to be wearing the less obvious bits of what amounted to a costume under his heavy flannel shirt, but he'd thought that at best they'd just detour over to the cemetery and make sure everything was quiet. "Last time, you told me the steaks were haunted." The dog to his right grinned, tail thumping against the ground it was sitting on. "They required inspection." The dog to his left grinned, tail swishing against the edge of the pavement. "They were delicious." "No eating things here, please." Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, fingering the bandana-like mask hidden in one. "If we even get inside. Don't think we're the only ones who noticed something is up."
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Tagging this lest I forget it. Given the number of super-senses in this thread, on the rare chance it comes up: the dogs are pretty clearly magic to the appropriate senses, in a "this is a magical creature" kind of way, and they ping death senses (which is curious, because they're pretty clearly not dead). Once they drop the morph, sufficient Knowledge (Arcane Lore) - which I think pretty much everyone has in good quantity? - will get you anything off their sheet description, up to your own discretion and what you think a given character might know! Matt also pings somewhat like a black dog, which is something that one familiar with said dogs might find very strange, to say the least. Even when they contract with a person or use them as an anchor, that person's supposed to be unaffected.
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Captain Eclipse's tail curled up like a bitten snake at the video, though she seemed less concerned by the aquatic than the more normal-looking Terran. Normal-looking perhaps being the operative term. Her next few words were Alarian, archaic, and difficult to translate even for technology of Cavalier's quality, but seemed to be shocked, quiet profanity having something to do with the mating habits of lizards. "....that's the one," she finally said, unconsciously moving a hand to rest on her gun. "Or a clone of her, fine. Wander's the one from the Communion tower job. She took down an anti-air tower by herself, easily. She casually bent hand prints into a drop ship hull." Apparently realizing that having a hand on her gun in a room with the Grand Nauarchus probably wasn't polite, Eclipse consciously brought it up to run it through her hair, still watching the picture. "We'd better hope the clone's not as good as the real one, or we're gonna need more firepower."
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"Aw. Flattery well get him everywhere," Eclipse assured the pair, grinning. "Pay sounds fair, for chasing down a couple murderers. I hope stolen armor doesn't work as well as the real thing, though, Knight - you might get the honor of that fun scrap, if it comes up; the rest of us aren't really equipped for an aerial engagement outside the ship." She shrugged, still grinning. "Been meaning to get that jet pack. For now, though, you have any information on our targets? Pictures, known equipment and resources, special abilities or suspected training? I hate going into these things blind, and they must've been something or really lucky to do what they did."
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Ellie's ruffling earned her the disgruntled noise she'd been looking for, but it was almost entirely swallowed by the little smile on Mara's face - their earlier totally-getting-dishes-and-not-at-all-making-out had put her in quite the mood, and that last kiss had her humming to herself as she and her mussed hair made their way downstairs. "Beware future revenge," she said, every word of it a promise. "Plates!" she announced, stepping down off the stairs. "As requested, only minor delays for science reasons, do not question it. Where-- ..ah." She paused, cocking her head as she caught up with the presence of the latest arrivals. "Steve, hello. ....Americana. Hello."
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Matt's reaction was at least slightly atypical: he took a half-step back, but while his expression was startled it had too much recognition and not nearly enough fear for the visage the witch had presented. Something black flickered around one hand before he got the reflex under control, frowning at his subjective show of weakness and scowling into another swig of the....'drink'. "S'not bad," he admitted, looking her up and down. "Bright, maybe; you'd be surprised how long wet lasts on some of 'em. It's uneven, though - hair'd dry out and lose the worst of it before you lost the hands, unless you got rats with weird tastes. Fast, though; sure takes you by surprise. I think I preferred you the other way." Matt's dog, for what it was worth, seemed entirely unaffected - it thumped its tail against the ground and nudged Fred's hand for more pets, casting an unconcerned yellow eye Raina's way like her appearance was the most normal thing in the world.