KnightDisciple

CT will delay to IH's action.

Corbin's face tightened as they planned for what was, in his reckoning, a worst-case scenario. --By "the rest of you" you clearly mean "all of us". If I have to drag our behinds into orbit, I'm not leaving anyone behind, Midnight.-- He took a moment to breath in, then out, the ever-present warmth and wood-fire scent of his ring's self-supporting "atmosphere" filling his nose and lungs once more. --Shouldn't come to the anyways. If the Furions don't think they can purify the infection by themselves, I'll pitch in. I've got an ancient artifact overflowing with holy magical fire. I can try to help out with the healing effort, or even just give Erin the ring to put this infection on hold for a while. I'm its master, but Erin, you've got more than enough willpower for it to accept you, even if its only for a little while.--

Gabriel frowned in confusion. The way the Captain was speaking of these agents was making less sense as time went on. "I'm not sure I understand. What do you mean, "something here got to the Grue"? As in, one of their biological weapons broke quarantine and killed the crew of the ship? Some sort of super-virus? As for these plagues and counter-plagues, that's bad, but the way you're talking about them, you act like there's someone or something directing them. "Went missing" and all that. Did Pandora ever hit the general populace? If not, and Panacea didn't either, why would they be "back"?" He sighed in frustration. "I'm starting to feel out of my depth here, everyone. I barely understand the basic concepts of this stuff. I can negotiate or fight or counsel or teach acting, but biological warfare? Bio-weapons and counter-agents? This is Sonya's shtick, not mine. But now I'm not sure it's a good idea to bring her here, if there's a possibility of a human-killing super-plague lurking around the corner." He faced the Captain as he spoke next. "What do you suggest we do, Mr. Captain? We've got to address the problem, and sitting around worrying about Pandora won't help us at all."

Cobalt Templar: 26 Inquisitor Hughes: 14

Cobalt Templar was having a blast riding through space, even if part of him knew, intellectually, that he had to rely on someone else for his speed. It was one of the greatest thrill rides of his life. He had to push down the selfish thoughts about how it'd be even better if he wasn't hauling a load. 'Trevor put a lot of love and time into this bike. Having it get wrecked like this sucks a lot. Not like it's that heavy for me anyways...' His thoughts drifted for a short while, his gaze flitting over the eerily beautiful scenery; as much as it was one giant tapestry of tragedy, there was a strange sort of beauty to parts of it. He idly shifted the straps on the giant not-quite-coffin-shaped box on his back as he glanced back at the bike a short distance in front of him... Just in time to hear Midnight shouting threats at the driver while Wander was glowing in a decidedly unhealthy manner. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing, his teeth grit in determination. "Faster, huh?" He pushed himself as fast as he could manage, trying to catch up to the bike completely. When he was close enough, he'd call out to his friends, and the driver. "Any way I can help out here?"

"Every Fae I've met so far, barring the singular exception of Grimalkin, was, at best, duplicitous and detached from the affairs of mankind. At worst they murder, control minds, and incite murder. They seduce and warp. I know all too well how dangerous they are. I don't hold any anger toward you, Crow. We are all imperfect, and we are all occasionally bested by an enemy." He gave the younger man an encouraging smile then. "The important part is overcoming it and moving past it. Which you seem to be doing admirably. As for finding our foe, he's at an old abandoned warehouse. I once went with a few others to fight some troublesome fae, including a rather ugly unicorn. Shouldn't be too hard to get there. How do you want to approach it?" Gabriel could recite off the location (though he was fuzzy on the exact street address number, he knew how he'd flown there last time), so it was up to them how to go about getting there.

Corbin had frozen mid-"step" as soon as Kimber warned him about the fires of his own ring. The irony was almost painful; the tool that had served him so faithfully for so long was now his mortal enemy, at least until this was sorted out. His attention had drifted a bit as he pondered the situation, but he snapped back in focus when Wraith mind-spoke to them all. He gave her a small smile and a quick nod. "Nice work. That should help us out while we search for this thing." He quirked an eyebrow as Sharl suggested Wraith try searching the seabottom with her mind. When he'd finished speaking, he politely cleared his spectral throat before speaking. "Or I could just float down to the bottom and look around for it. It wouldn't strain me at all, and she could just keep in mental contact with me while I do it. No worries about cameras or mental strain or anything. I'll probably need a minute to adjust to the feeling, but it shouldn't be an issue."

AA, how would we handle 2 people using Move Object (TK) to grapple the same creature? This is if they're cooperating, not competing.

Cobalt Templar mulled the situation over for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably in the rather tight (to him) tunnels. Finally, he spoke up. "I think I can grab it. Normally I'd just grow and manhandle him, but it's too tight down here. But if you give me a minute, I can just reach out with my power directly and grab him. The thing looks tough, but not quite that tough." "Hmph, or I could do that. I've had plenty more practice, and have way more fine control than you'd be able to summon up." "Yeah, I bet you've had plenty of practice." The Inquisitor just glared back at CT. For almost 30 seconds, they had a staring contest, before Templar broke it with a sigh and a shrug. "Okay then. You lead off, and I'll back you up. Stopping that thing's more important than arguing, or comparing whose ring makes bigger constructs. Unless anyone else has a better idea?" He gazed around at the other teenagers present, seeing if any of them had any suggestions or criticisms to offer the plan. The Inquisitor himself stood there, looking a bit shocked. He was sure he'd need to beat it into the half-giant's head, but apparently he occasionally could think in that over-sized skull of his.

Diplomancer Mode, Active! Skill Mastery for 50 on Diplomacy.

Gabriel waited until the "decontamination" cloud was gone before lowering his sleeve and risking speech. "The smell's too strong, Scraps. It's meant to keep stuff like what's killing the greens out, but it's so strong it might hurt Gaian Knight or myself. We're fine, though; looks like the spray shouldn't be a problem any more." When the voice demanded their identity, he stepped forward, his hands held out to his sides, giving an impression of someone who wouldn't harm a fly. When he spoke, his words were confident, but very friendly. "Hello. My name's Gabriel. These are my friends, Gaian Knight and Fleur de Joie. We met this charming young man, and we understand there's a Captain here. We'd like to talk to him, and if he needs it, offer our help. We'd like to be friends. We mean no harm." His voice was almost enchanting, his tone, posture, and inflection all speaking of someone friendly and trustworthy. Something about how he carried himself made just about anyone want to trust him.

Two things. 1.)Super-Diplomancer Mode is a go! 2.)I'm asking where the dudes he's talking about are IC, because I'm totally lost OOC, since it's been a while.

Gabriel nodded as Kirstrom walked through the most likely time his research was stolen. "If it's alright with you guys, I could try to talk to them first, see if I could convince them not to make this too complicated. Doctor Kirstrom, are there any pieces of information you think we should know about these two before we go talk to them? Any reason you think they might have done this, besides greed?" He expected greed, but in a city that seemed to always be packed with crime, it wasn't inconceivable one or both of them men had been placed in a less than favorable circumstance that forced their hand. "Also, where would we find them right now?"

Very solid overall. With your saves, you'd want to note the unpowered saved bonus for them; so Toughness would be +12/+5 (+10/+3 Con, +2 [Protection]). Fort would be similar. You might consider dropping Will by 1 or 2; unofficial rule of thumb is saves averaging PL-1. That said, I think if you feel there's a strong justification for 2 saves at 10...go for it! Certainly what I've gathered from your comments in chat tells me those are both strong saves for her. We try to mark the skills you have SM with, but I don't remember the formatting trick offhand. But that's purely formatting. Um...hm. I guess maybe type it as "Impervious Toughness 10"? 6 one way, half-a-dozen the other. Designate the native language, and give the # of ranks (likely "1"). Finally, if those feats are effectively Alternate Powers, I might suggest writing them out like that for easy reference. Otherwise, looks good!

Corbin couldn't help but sigh in relief as the huge terror from another universe disappeared in a swirl of light and sound. His weapon winked out of existence, and he waited until Trevor had killed the broadcast to express his appreciation for their victory. "Haha! Way to go, everyone!" He calmed down a bit when he saw Midnight poking at the remains of his bike after...clearing his throat. He slowly walked over, stopping a couple of feet away. He politely cleared his throat, figuring that a hand on the shoulder might lead to a broken hand at this moment. "Hey, uh, sorry about the bike. You want some help keeping all the parts together? I can make a bin or platform or something. Just let me know what you need. Hopefully we'll be able to get moving a bit quicker that way." He cast a concerned glance toward the disappearing enemies; he wasn't so callous as to consider trying to kill them when they were down, but a part of him wondered if there would be continuing trouble in the future from this merry little band of murderers.

Cobalt Templar Search: 21 Inquisitor Hughes: 8 Hm. I think the Inquisitor is having trouble because of poor lighting conditions! :o

As the two men fell unconscious, the energy around them faded. Cobalt Templar himself stood in a ready stance for several long seconds, waiting to see if any of the three would stand back up. None of them rose, and he relaxed his posture, though not his overall caution. He went over to the first thug they'd downed, carried him over to the other two unconscious men, and dropped him on the ground, a confused frown on his face. "It doesn't make sense. They exhibited power very similar to mine, but none of them bear a ring, and their power faded when we knocked them out. Which is bad, I think I know where it came from." He looked at the other two, noting everyone's condition. "They seemed to be wielding a weakened form of the power of the Orange Ring of the Builder. Unfortunately, it seems Protectiveness has decayed to Greed. Or worse, the current user has always embodied greed. Either way, we're looking at a potent opponent. From what I understand, the Orange Ring tends to focus on attacking many people at once, creating barriers, that sort of thing. A bit more defensive-minded than my ring, or the Red Ring for that matter. On the plus side, when we beat him, that's 2 of the 6 "missing" rings that we know the location for." He tried, and failed, to give a smile at that remark; his eyes were flitting back and forth across the tree line, trying to find the mastermind of this little attack. "Whoever this is, they're not stupid, but they are greedy. Stay alert, the Orange Ring's user can't be that far..."

Cobalt Templar Cobalt Templar considered the situation. A very large part of him just wanted to go home and sleep. He was sure he'd have grey hairs by the time this was done. Finally, he sighed. He first turned a bit to not-quite-shout down the stairs. "Give me a couple moments and I'll join you, Rift." Then his attention returned to the duplicates, the very suspicious duplicates. After a moment, he raised his ring hand at a 90-degree angle to the rest of his arm, pointing it at the ceiling for a moment before letting it relax down to his side. It was meant as a blatant gesture of peace and trust, however fragile those two things might be. His gaze slipped to his yellow-shrouded double before going to the Lieutenant. When he spoke, his voice was calm, but also rather formal in tone. "Considering the situation, I agree to mutual cooperation. It would probably be best if we helped resolve this as rapidly as possible. Let's head downstairs. I'll play rear-guard." The implied meaning was clear: he still didn't trust them. Inquisitor Hughes The Inquisitor was still...frustrated, for lack of a better word. The brute didn't seem to consider him a threat, didn't respect what he was. Not that Hughes totally respected himself either, but he had an image to maintain. One that he was apparently fraying. His commanding officer's order was obeyed almost instantly; his ring also lowered to his side, and he reduced the manifestation of his ring's powers to a few lines of yellow on his uniform, once more lending it a strangely predatory air. "Understood." He stayed close to Wilder, wishing he had a bit more physical power to lend to the situation; he didn't wish to look the coward by hiding behind his commander, but pragmatism dictated he hang back to more effectively use the powers of his ring. Pragmatism won, and he ended up about halfway between Wilder and Templar. He squinted at the darkness as they started down the stairs, before yellow energy oozed out of his ring, flowed up his arm, and manifested itself as a bright yellow shoulder-mounted flashlight. Its light didn't eliminate the darkness, but it was soft enough to not blind those who looked his way, and it let him see well enough in the dark.

NPC Spotlight Corbin Hughes of Erde Fear and Hatred in St. Louis Erde, May 2012 Corbin Alphonse Hughes was a complicated young man. Despite his appearance, and the way he carried himself, he was only 18 years old. He hadn't even hit his second decade of life, yet for over half of it he had been the dedicated servant of the American Reich, and by extension, the Third Reich as a whole (long may Superior reign and live). Over half his life had become consumed by two emotions: Fear, and Hate. Fear was his weapon, his sword, his shield. The ring on his hand let him craft thought and light into constructs, and the ring's subtle power made sure said constructs were of the thing his enemy feared most. He'd seen some terrible things with that. Even more potent, he could reach out with invisible fingers and grab hold of their minds, yanking their deepest, darkest fears to the forefront of their thoughts, causing them to break down sobbing in terror. That fear gave him power; it fed into his ring, kept it strong. His own fears fed into the ring. The fear of his parents being killed by the Resistance in retaliation for his own work as an Inquisitor. Fear of displeasing his masters; he'd met Superior himself, and knew with absolute certainty the leader of the Third Reich could snap him like a twig. Fear of being caught in the power games of the Reich because of the terrible weapon he wielded. Fear of losing again to that girl and her thrice-cursed Blue Ring, and it's stinging flames. Fear of his own doubts being exposed by a Reich psychic, his dislike of his terrible work being paraded out for all to see. Such doubts would lead to death, but it would not be a swift death; not for him, and not for his family. Hatred was his blanket, his favored drink. He hated the Resistance; they claimed moral superiority, but he'd seen some of them do terrible things. He hated the corrupt, lazy men who slandered his mother and father for their hard-working ways. He hated the workers in his family's factories who glared at his parents as they strove to make the workers' lives better. He hated his fellow Inquisitors, the ones who reveled in their terrible work; the ones who took outright pleasure in causing pain. He hated his fellows who exploited faithful Reich citizens just to exercise their petty power. He hated that brown-haired peasant girl, with her Blue Ring, her defiant eyes, beautiful face, and aura of tantalizing mystery. Most of all, he hated how the Reich he served stripped him of his childhood, forged him into a weapon, and ground down everyone around him until despair was the strongest flavor in their emotions. In summary, he hated virtually the entire world, except his parents, his sister, and perhaps a handful of his fellow members of the Reich, ones he knew were upstanding patriots determined to protect their fellow citizens. He still remembered that day, 9 years ago, when the ring on his right hand had fallen from the sky. He'd been playing in the backyard of his family's modest home, under the watchful eye of his mother. Father was at his factory again, doing his best to ensure that food was processed, packaged, and shipped to the rest of the American Reich. They weren't rich, but Father was an excellent manager, and Mother helped (despite the whispers it often generated). Father was kind, at least after a fashion; certainly to his son, and even largely to his workers. He demanded excellence, but he was one of the few to use three 8-hour shifts instead of two 12-hour shifts, citing greater work efficiency, reduced loss of workers to health problems, and barely different operating costs. Plus, it kept more people busy doing something besides stewing in discontent at yet another year of food rations. Even the Hughes family, all four of them left in this battered world, were not immune to rations. Corbin had been predicted to grow tall, taller than most men by the time he was a teenager; he would be built like the mightiest of soldiers. But then the shortages came, and never left, and while he did not grow up truly stunted, he never reached the physical potential his genetics would have gifted him with. Back then, it hadn't been as evident. Mother had gone inside for a moment, answering the telephone; Corbin was rolling a toy truck back and forth in the dirt. Suddenly, there was something shiny in the truck's bed! It was a ring, all silvery metal and a glowing yellow gem. Being a curious young boy, Corbin slipped the ring on. He then promptly screamed in fear as shapeless masses of yellow light poured out of the ring like a river, swirling all around him. His mother ran outside, but couldn't even reach him. It took some of the more skillful members of the Wehrmacht with powers to really get him calmed down and restrained, and by that point it was too late. The ring wouldn't come off his hand, and while behind closed doors some suggested just killing him and giving it to a more experienced soldier, cooler heads prevailed. After all, he wasn't even 10 years old yet; surely he was young enough to mold! So a “deal†was made, under the shadow of understood threats, that Corbin Alphonse Hughes was to be a shared ward of both his family and the Third Reich. He would live and learn at a special school for four days out of the week, then go live with his family for the other three; in this way, he would be given a lifeline of sanity, and a weak point to threaten and exploit. Yet despite their best efforts, Corbin grew up knowing his parents loved him, even as they had a second child, a daughter, who became the apple of all their eyes. Corbin doted on his younger sister whenever he could, making her drawings or carvings that they plastered on her walls. He never, ever used his powers in front of her, and almost never displayed anything in front of his parents; the most they'd see were his flight and the glow that suffused him and protected him. Even as young as 12, he was learning the finer points of his profession, and it wasn't something he wished to show them. Six years later, he stood on a balcony, overlooking the sprawl that was St. Louis. He'd learned much in the 9 years he'd been a “special student†of the Third Reich. He'd learned the basics, of course; no Inquisitor was going to be an uneducated simpleton. But he'd also delved into psychology, the understanding of the human mind, how it functioned. He'd learned ways to read people without them realizing. He'd practiced his powers, mostly on prisoners; some of them were simply getting a bit of punishment before release, while others were receiving the final punishment of the Reich. He'd learned all sorts of interrogation techniques, from the subtle to the...distasteful. He preferred the ones that never touched the prisoner; more reliable. He still remembered with horrible clarity the barely-contained terror he'd felt when, as a boy of 14, he'd been brought before Superior himself, leader of much of the world. The blond man sat in his chair (throne), as soft smile on his face (a mask) as he beheld one of the Inquisition's newest weapons. Five years of training gave him the discipline to stand at attention and stare at nothing in particular as the Lead Inquisitor himself explained the nature of his abilities to Superior, his wife, and the beautiful, terrible creature that was his daughter. For a moment, he'd been enthralled, but then he saw her eyes, and he shivered. Any attraction died then and there, after seeing the cruel gaze she leveled at all before her. “Uh, Inquisitor? You asked to be informed when 30 minutes had passed and the prisoner had been given a chance to recover. That time has passed, and she seems to be mostly lucid.†“Mostly? Is the rest of her lucidity not present due to jitters, or is she simply non-responsive?†“Jitters, sir. Seems 5 minutes of raw terror isn't so easy to shake off.†“No, I suppose it isn't. Very well then; I was simply getting some fresh air while I centered myself. Have to keep the mind focused when you're using this thing, after all.†The aide flinched as Inquisitor Hughes gestured with the shining yellow ring. Hughes had never, ever abused his aides or his fellow Inquisitors. That didn't mean that the all-black leather uniform didn't inspire fear and trembling in the average person. The man who was a decade older than the ring-slinger spoke again, his nerves still showing. “Of course, sir. Will you be restarting the session, or would you like Inquisitor Matthews to take over? I've taken to understand he offered to do so. Enthusiastically.†“NO!†His aura flared for a moment, and the aide took a step back. Corbin smoothed the front of his uniform, offering the aide an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry about that; stress of the last couple of weeks. Inform Matthews his...touch...isn't needed in this case. I think I'm quite close to a breakthrough, one that will get us excellent results.†The aide nodded and scurried inside. After making sure his mental barriers and baffles were in place, Hughes allowed himself a stray thought of scorn, directed at his fellow Inquisitor. 'Matthews is a stupid brute; he's more interested in having his “fun†than he is gathering information. He'd leave the prisoner a wreck and get nothing but false positives. At least with me, she'll be worked over by a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. Then I'll make sure she's given one small mercy, at least.' With a sign, the pony-tailed Inquisitor walked back into the “interview room†where a 20-something woman was dressed in dull prisoner garb and strapped into a hard metal reclining chair, not unlike one a dentist might use. The lights focused on her eyes, so that Hughes was shrouded in shadow as he circled her chair for a full minute before speaking in low tones, a brotherly air about him. “Now...Samantha, wasn't it? Yes. Samantha. You're a member of the Resistance, though not a high-ranking officer. I'm a reasonable man, I know how your lot operates. I only want one piece of information from you. One thing, and the interview here will be over, I promise. Give me what I want, and you can go back to your holding cell, get a meal, catch some sleep, and so forth. Doesn't that sound nice?†So it went, as the Inquisitor plied his trade, sending occasional bursts of raw fear into the prisoner's mind, all while a part of him wept at the deeds he did, even as another part of his mind tried to convince himself that he was being merciful, doing only the bare minimum required to gather information, rather than leaving her to the others. Her, and the half-dozen like her today. Like every day. Every week. Every month. For the last four years of his life. When Inquisitor Corbin Alphonse Hughes slept that night, his dreams would be filled with nothing but fearful, hate-stained faces staring up at him from the interrogation chair, or from the dirty streets, or from the dark alleys, or all the other places he plied his dangerous trade. After all, that's all he was good for, wasn't it? Fear, and Hate.

Gabriel Street Sharks: 2 IC Posts 1 John 4:1: 6 IC Posts Sanctuary: Panacea: 11 IC Posts Total: 19 IC Posts June Viginette: NPC Spotlight: Sonya Sokolova Cobalt Templar In Another Life: 5 IC Posts Mile in My Shoes: 5 IC Posts Gathering Like Clouds: 6 IC Posts Total: 16 IC Posts Viginette: NPC Spotlight: Corbin Hughes of Erde

First: Awesome picture. It really pops out, but isn't too "busy", which is the perfect mix. Second: Probably best to take the stats out of quote boxes. Formatting looks better if you take the quotes off; you can spoiler-block any fluff stuff you're not messing with right now. Third: Formatting. Two things: how the powers are formatted, and how the Arrays are formatted. For reference on both, I'm going to be using my own character Gabriel, because he's got a huge freaking array (thus, an easily-spottable visual reference!) Power formatting should be: Base Power: Impervious Toughness 10 (Extras: Linked To Protection) [12PP] ("Proprietary Armor System") It's good to space things out a bit, and we always bold the power and rank, and italicize "extras", "feats", and so on attached to that power. You toss the fluff name for it at the end, for clarity's sake. As for the Array: Array Name (Things: Stuff) Base Power: Power Alternate Power: Power Alternate Power: Power Bam, another trick to make it clearer, and stand out more. To accomplish it, you write that first line, then wrap the rest in [*array*] [*/array*] (drop the *'s). Personally, I'm not sure the Power Loss drawback is really PP-worthy; seems more like a Complication to me. Also, you don't need to say "normal person without armor", that's implied in "normal identity". You need to note how many Ranks the Device has. Otherwise pretty solid.

CT flew back from the monster as his friends rallied against it, the final foe on this field of battle. He let his larger form fade away in the light breeze, the flames simply peeling off of his body until he was back to his mere normal size. He felt his hair stand up under his armor as Edge played with the lightning. Getting a sense of what his team leader was about to do, Cobalt Templar conjured a weapon from the ether once more. The fire swirled for a moment, before coalescing in his arms in the shape of a large, heavy cannon of some sort. Sparks floated in front of it, drifting into its dark maw, before they started to swirl, as if drawn in by a whirlpool. He was clearly waiting for something, his eyes cast slightly skyward, watching the light show in the clouds. Then, suddenly, a huge bolt roared down from the heavens, and Templar's eyes snapped to the point of impact. The huge weapon was at his shoulder in an instant, and he sighted down its length for a moment before pulling the trigger. From the muzzle flew a cone of compact, spinning fire, almost like the tip of a drill. It flew unerringly through the air at incredible speed. Just as the last sparks were fading from where Edge had struck the beast, this new blow struck the creature's hide, burning at its unnatural flesh with renewed vengeance. CT just held his construct ready, in case he needed to fire another shot at the terrible creature.

Gabriel hopped off the floating rock, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. For all that the Grue had harried Earth Prime, he'd never had a chance to see any of their ships up close and personal. He frowned as the electricity arced, even as he tried to stay alert for possible ambush from behind. No such attack was forthcoming, though. Then Scraps got excited about what the ship was doing, and Gabriel's eyes opened in alarm. "Ack! Watch out, Grue decontamination gas!" With that, he brought his left sleeve up to his mouth, breathing shallowly as only a few wisps of gas came into his throat. He nearly choked on it, but managed to keep his body under control until the cloud blew past them.

Hm. Well, not sure if any of us can translate the language bit, unless you feel like saying my Comm power grouping is still on (it allows Gabriel to translate any spoken language). But, that'd be a touch cheesy perhaps. Saves! Reflex, DC 16: 26 Fortitude, DC 13: 24 Should be good, then.

"Sharl, stop emitting fire! You're going to burn down the priceless artifacts that didn't get wrecked in this fight!" Before he could work up a good rant-lecture, Corbin stopped to consider something, giving a defeated sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest and floated closer. "Okay, look. The ring responds to willpower, right? It's literally about self-control, and imposing your will on it to control what it does. It may have "modes", but really it runs off of your imagination. You have to imagine yourself not emitting heat and flame like this, then just concentrate and will it to be so. You absolutely have to assert yourself over that ring. You're the boss, not it. You have to tell it what's going to happen, then believe it's going to happen. Or else it'll sputter out on you." His tone was serious but not confrontational; if anything, he sort of sounded like a teacher at the moment.