Fox
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"If you have $2000," said Matt, who had never even seen a number that large on paperwork since some barely-remembered forms as a young child, "then you have money. And if you need pocket money, it isn't that hard to find little odd-jobs for it, if y'don't mind carrying things or stupid work. It'll never get you rich, but it's okay. And yeah, sure, fine, if you wanna go hunt for yourself, go out to the forest, kill deer or those squirrels or something. Screw the cops and guards, shooting a squirrel in a public park is just...it isn't right, Tin Man. And yeah, some of the supers are gonna look into something like that, 'cos they'll think you're crazy." He threw up a hand in vague frustration. "So, sure, whatever. If the city crumbles and you're starving and you've got nothing, by all means, go to Liberty and put an arrow through a tree rat. Hell, at that point I'll help, 'cos I'll be hungry too. But that ain't the world we live in. So...don't."
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"You would likely be fine if you remained around the castle," Indira mused, looking out into the rain with black eyes that didn't reflect the lightning. She had seemed fairly comfortable standing by in the kitchen, offering a hand when it was needed and politely responding when addressed...though she had, at least once, mimicked Aquaria's bulging throat. The flaring metal and vaguely frog-like face had seemed more reflexive than anything; an unconscious curiosity when she was distracted by the oncoming weather. "I would be happy to accompany you, if you like. The rain does not bother me - and so long as we remain up here and within the building's area, the lightning rods should spare us from potential harm. It would, perhaps, be best to not descend to any of the other windows."
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Mara winced part way through opening her mouth to answer, but couldn't quite hide the smile behind her concern at overhearing Yolanda's prodding. She'd really hoped that some of her less social habits wouldn't rub off on the girl, but as long as they didn't start fighting.... "Many kinds," she answered, recovering on a subject she could at least sound competent in. "Physics, metallurgy, high-energy, entropy, programming. Chemistry, sometimes, though it's not a specialty. I...dabble, I guess," she admitted, shrugging. "Really I just like building things. Robotics, practical applications of exotic sciences. I do...special projects, sometimes, but my company - HAX, H-A-X - mostly consults. Work out bugs in other people's stuff, improve it, optimize it. Good business these days. Not bad for someone with a GED, I'm told. Lot of respect for people doing normal education, though. Not easy. Never envy Ellie's homework."
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Mara had found herself highly distracted by Yolanda's socializing as well, but being somewhat shorter and trying not to hover over the child had left her with few options and a deep desire to deploy a drone. For careful monitoring purposes. Which was basically spying, come to think of it, and probably not okay for a would-be parent and maybe a faux pas for a party but then she hadn't been to many parties and?-- Her girlfriend's squeeze brought her attention back to the party like a rubber band snapping, looking blankly at the group like her brain had shifted without a clutch. One would swear one could almost hear the gears turning in her head as her brain played the group conversation back to her. "Mara. Hallomen, I mean. You knew the Mara part," she introduced herself, frowning. "Not actually sure how you deal with 'community'...things, really. Hasn't come up much. Wouldn't object to wine, later. Good idea in moderation. Pretty confident Ellie can out-perform anyone, she is great. Didn't do much school either, myself; didn't have...many opportunities. Worked out okay. Own a tech company now, so. Sympathies on teleporting; teleport into a car is fairly impressive, especially if it was moving. Small target. Understand having to make snap decisions sometimes. At least the idiots who think two hours of lessons will turn them into Bruce Lee get corrected quickly. Really stupid people never realize they're being stupid." She paused for a beat, reviewing, before coming back to Earth and blinking. "....think that was it. S...sorry. Had a bit to unspool. ...not as weird as I sound, promise. Maybe."
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Matt didn't say anything for a moment, one hand resting on his face and the other still on Fang's head, which prompted that head to tilt over and eye its master questioningly. "....no, man," he finally said, dragging the hand down his face until it flopped onto his chest. "No. I'm not...look. I like meat. Sometime, you and me, we'll go get a burger at a little place I know at the edge of the Fens - cheap, looks like crap, but they use some sorta great spice on the patty, and....rrgh." He rolled onto his side, eyeing his roommate with obvious concern. The dog, having apparently come to terms with the end of its head-scratching, turned to look as well. "You get meat by buying it, man. Ain't expensive as long as you aren't getting prime rib or whatever. If you've really gotta hunt, you go get a license or poach some deer or something. Nobody on two legs hunts squirrels for meat. Nobody hunts squirrels for meat in the city because that's the kind of thing you do when you're a crazy person. Even when you're homeless you can go to a soup kitchen or go diving in dumpsters."
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"I appreciate the thought, but I am fine," Wraith noted, voice - thoughts? - awfully calm for her situation. For a moment she looked like she was exactly where the wolves wanted her, surrounded and harried, but as the last tried to put a claw through her it became abundantly clear that things were not quite so simple. The claw did indeed find purchase, sinking into metal flesh, but metal flesh did not respond to potential trauma like meat did, and the mistake would prove fatal: Wraith's body snapped open like a bear trap, the momentum of the otherwise-dangerous swipe carrying the creatures arm through her torso only to have a newly-formed toothy maw clamp shut on it. That left the wolves off-balance and surrounding an apex predator with an unfortunate reach and flexibility, long blades on scythes swinging out in a terrible dance that left their owner standing in a circle of animals that hadn't lived long enough to apply the lessons they'd learned. "I am on my way to help with the other pack and skeletons," Wraith announced, taking a moment to give her final wolf a painless end before she vaulted it and took off after the group that had gotten away from her. "And, Ghost Girl - congratulations!"
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"....yeah, sure." Matt was pretty sure that decision was going to get him killed, but he'd made worse. "Not a bad way to learn about the new roommate, I guess? This place is a school, not a prison, anyway: they don't try all that hard to keep us here, looks like." He wrinkled his nose at the mention of meat acquisition, turning his head to glance sidelong at Riley. "....dude, no." One of the dogs snorted, and he rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes, they like meat sometimes, but a tree rat's not gonna be enough for them and you don't go killin' stuff in a city park, what's wrong with you, man. If you've really gotta go hunting head out into the forest or something. You start shooting harmless rodents inside the city and people're gonna think you're crazy. People might be right."
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Bad dogs! Same trick as before - without the Charge, Wraith'll just All-Out Attack for +2, and Power Attack for -4/+4. Taking 10, that's a 'roll' of 20 to hit the wolves and a DC31 Toughness save, with Takedown and the extended reach. She'll be at -2 defense until her next turn.
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Hm. Not a big fan of those odds - I'll go ahead and use Wraith's Ultimate Toughness; she drops a hero point she'd have inevitably spent rerolling or shaking a daze to just auto-20 the check, for a toughness save of 35.
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"It is not your fault," Indira assured her friend, smiling. "They saw through me as well, and very quickly." Indira's features melted away, like wax under heat: her color leached away until her surface was sheer, smooth metal, and that surface smoothed and lost detail until she was only a vaguely humanoid form bearing four-clawed hands and an orifice-less face marked only by three large, black almond-shaped voids for eyes. Not having a mouth didn't seem to impede her ability to talk, at least, though her voice was now backed by a curious hum. "Kimber is a ghost, yes, and most cats are not like Avro, no; he is a manticore. I am...something else, which I am afraid I cannot share. You were right to think that I am not human, however."
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Reflex Save vs. Boom, DC15 (1d20 + 10=19)
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APPROVED!
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"Explore, mostly," Matt supplied, swinging his feet up onto his bed. He'd already kicked off his worn-out shoes, which one of his companions was nudging with its nose as if trying to figure out whether or not it'd make a good toy. It opened its mouth to give one an experimental bite.... "Fang, leave it." The dog decided that maybe it wasn't a toy, grumped, and jumped up onto the bed to sit next to its master. "Dogs and I like to go wandering, poke around the city where we aren't supposed to. Go for runs, maybe, work off some stress, keep in shape. I do odd jobs for pocket money, sometimes; grunt work, running punks out of the junk yard, whatever." He ruffled Fang's hair, earning a satisfied sigh. "Dogs like to visit graveyards and the like. We try to get out there once or twice a week."
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"'Home'," Indira automatically corrected, though there was no malice or disdain in it - as someone with occasional language problems herself, it was reflex more than anything. "Lairs usually belong to animals, I believe. Though I could be wrong," she added, frowning. Having to learn two new languages on top of her original two had, admittedly, left some gaps in her vocabulary. "I have heard the word used sometimes for places bad people hide. Perhaps it is a metaphor." She followed them to the kitchen, though she had to pause a bit at the door, uncertain. "I...am unlikely to be much help in creating good food," she admitted, frowning at the relatively unknown contents of the various cabinets and containers. "I also have 'dietary restrictions', and they render my taste unusual. I can provide help as needed, however. I am, at least, very good with knives."
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Matt was still lying back looking at the ceiling, but he raised one hand again to point at an old guitar propped up against the foot of his bed. The instrument had very clearly seen better days: its black-varnished surfaced was scuffed and part of the neck was chipped, and it would have looked like something straight out of a thrift shop if it didn't have new strings and what looked like a few patched or replaced parts. "Guitar." He turned the hand to point around him, apparently aware of where each member of his little pack was without having to look at them. "Dogs." One of the latter cocked its head at Riley's bed-patting, but it didn't do more than lean its head forward and sniff - followed by an immediate snort, as if trying to clear that air from its nostrils. "Don't take it personally," Matt noted, still not watching. "They're...I dunno. Particular. Even I don't get what they like and don't like sometimes." He poked the offending dog with one foot, and it turned its head to snort at him, too. "So what do you do, Tin Man, when you aren't fantasizing about killing people?"
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"Well, I'm from here," Matt answered, flatly. One of the dogs snorted, and he reached over to rub its head. "So yeah, kinda, they're all over. Grew up around the Fens, though - that's, uh." He raised a hand to gesture in their direction before realizing he didn't actually know what direction the Fens were in without a window or a landmark, and that rendered the hand-waving a little vague and futile. It dropped back down to plop on one of his companions' muzzles, teasing its nose. Said nose snorted, its owner amused but apparently tolerant. "It's over west of here, I guess. Not a great part of the city, so I haven't known many hero-types. Met a couple, I think, but never, y'know, knew 'em." The dog pretended to bite his hand, making a tired playful noise as Matt lazily pretended to try to pull free. "Careful about talk 'bout 'the hard way'. Not a lot of people talk about how they got what they got, but a lot of 'em we do know aren't pretty. For everyone who wakes up spitting fire on his eighteenth there's some guy who got his soul torn apart and put back together wrong by fairies or a girl who lost some limbs chewed up and made her own replacements. Probably not gonna make a lotta friends tellin' the guy who had to die to get powers that it was 'the easy way', y'know? Even the fire-spitter's gonna think you're bein' rude to stir something up."
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Mara Hallomen had cut her hair recently, but while the bangless bob looked quite good and remained easy to maintain it had done absolutely nothing to help keep stubborn locks from escaping from behind one ear. At least it gave her free hand something to do: as they approached the group the young woman seemed no more overjoyed with the crowd than some of the kids had been, though maturity and an excuse to brush her hair back instead of bunching her hand up in her pocket made the discomfort more subtle than it might have been. "Someone you know?" she asked the other end of her family hand-holding chain, without looking over. She was, rather nakedly, sizing up anyone she hadn't already met...though it wasn't in challenge so much as in study, like those dark blue eyes were scanning details to memory for later analysis. Which, to be fair, they probably were.
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Tagging. In case. Knowing me, I'll forget it otherwise.
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Almost! See the previous note on Notice; also, you're cheating yourself out of a little Initiative bonus, as 5 dex + 4 (imp. init.) would be +9 rather than +8.
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"...haven't really met too many people so far," Matt admitted, leaning back; one of his dogs made a huffing noise, but laid down to become a makeshift headrest without any real complaint. "Been gone a lot, plus the thing with the dog-kicker. Got some good detention from that." His pillow huffed again, and he chuckled, reaching up to indulge the creature with an ear rub. "Probably should, I guess. I've seen some of 'em around - hope you're right about the dogs. They weird some people out, but if chicks dig 'em then it's gonna be a good year."
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"Eve is my friend," Indira confirmed, smiling. "She is very rich, but I do not know how rich - it is not important to our friendship, I think. I have...less need for money than most people." "She is also a telepath, yes, though you may not wish to speak of things so openly," she advised, corners of her mouth turning down a little - not disapproving, but her voice carried a great deal of caution. "I believe some secrets should be shared only by the people who own them. She is somewhat open with her gifts, and uses them well, but it is still a matter of politeness...and saves you from the risk of revealing things you later find you should not have." She shrugged, smiling again. "But I am not in charge of you. It is advice only - I believe the phrase is 'take it or leave it'? Besides Eve, we may also find Kimber," she added, changing the subject, "though I do not know if she is here right now. She is my best friend. I think you would like her."
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Could've been; I did go through and sort / format / mark skill mastery on the skills. I'd believe I missed that Stealth already existed if it was hanging off the end like that. Sorry. Corrected!
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A frown flickered across Matt's face for a moment; he was clearly disappointed his trick had fallen flat, but he recovered quickly enough. "Sure, magic," he admitted, sounding a little impressed (and trying to hide it). "Dogs from the dog dimension, remember?" "I don't make 'em, though," he added, leaning down to rub one behind the ears. The dog closed its eyes and craned its head up, tail thumping softly against the floor. "I just bring 'em here. They look out for me, and I look out f-" The young man's head jerked to the side, staring blankly out the small dorm window as if a voice nobody else could hear had called his name. Or, at least, a voice no person could hear: Riley's sharp senses and trained attention to detail could note that some of the dogs had turned an ear the same way, though they seemed rather disinterested. "....and I look out for them," he finally concluded, turning his attention back, voice a little more flat than it had been. "They're all I've got."
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Matt gave his new roommate and odd look as he followed him in, tossing his torn flannel shirt onto the bed...and onto the other dog from the museum pair, which opened a sleepy eye, huffed, and lazily swiped at it. "I'm in and out myself," he agreed, sitting on the edge of his bed. The first hound jumped up to join the second, both of them nudging him for a scritching he was happy to provide. "If you're jumpy or get nightmares or whatever I can at least warn you 'bout movies. And, uh, no thanks on the squirrel. I eat, y'know, food. And they'd probably rather hunt it themselves if they're in the mood, I guess. Squirrel wouldn't go a long way with them anyway." "Speakin' of which," he added, the barest glimmer of mischief in one eye. "You heard the man - no sneaking up." He put two fingers into his mouth and issued a sharp whistle - no less than two more dogs padded in through the doorway, and a third shuffled out from under the bed. The lot of them arranged themselves around their master, and whether on the bed or on the floor five pairs of eyes turned to look at Riley with animal curiosity. "This is a pack, Tin Man. And these're the ground rules: don't touch my dogs without permission. Don't touch my stuff, either - not much of it, but don't mess with it."
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"That is - hmm." Indira seemed genuinely surprised by the question, but she had to admit it was a fair one - especially once the elevator had arrived and she found herself in possession of knowledge of just where the unusual pair lived. Not that she couldn't have tracked them there anyway, having already met them, but it was the spirit of the thing. "I do live up at the top of the building," she admitted, setting her easily-hefted boxes down on their floor, "but I do not live there alone. I would be happy to show you at least part of it, but I will have to call and ensure that it is okay with my friends." That, at least, ended up being easy enough: by the time the others had finished putting the expirables away she had completed a quiet phone call, and gave them their belated answer with a smile and a polite gesture back toward the elevator. "I am afraid I cannot show you the entire area," she apologized, stepping back into the elevator; it settled somewhat under her weight, springs compensating slightly for a mass her athletic but rather lithe build shouldn't have been able to justify, especially without the heavy boxes they'd arrived carrying. "Some areas are private to myself, or others who live there. You are welcome to come, however, and see what you can. I do promise that I have friends, either way."
