KnightDisciple
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I'm going to have Nevermore glide over to the roof opposite Polarity, since this is happening in an alley. Stealth: 14.
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Yes, that would miss, his Def bonus is 15. Thanks to All-Out Attack, 21 is just enough. Fort Save: 34.
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Looking over the power again, it'll basically fry everything in the room but the Curator, we'll say.
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Would the Curator be in the area of the blast? I'm going to say that the computers and nanites auto-fail, which I will describe IC after you've posted. But the silvery rascal will need to make a save if he's in range. The nanite take is probably 20ish feet overhead. That should be well within her range, especially if she stands on top of the teleporter pad.
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"He power-naps. In the afternoons. I get my homework done pretty quick, so I've never been in the room while he's awake and I'm awake. I usually try to do any and all workouts in the gym and homework in the lounge or library, so that I don't throw off his sleep patterns. Bad enough mine are probably going to be off-kilter for life, no need to pass that on to him." The young man was quiet, but...despite stating he worked with the Raven, he had none of the terse gruffness they might have heard the dark heroine had. Nervermore was focused, but he seemed almost at ease in the midst of that focus.
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Tagging. For justice.
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Nevermore was crouched on one of the more shadowy portions of the rooftop, his gaze slowly scanning back and forth, his eyes covered by reflective white lenses. He was an inscrutable figure, a living shadow, a soon-to-be-legend that walked the base earth... "So you're telling me that you are my mysterious roommate who's always up at 5 in the morning? What are you doing that early, dude? Polishing every rivet in your armor?" There's no malice in his words, though. Just friendly teasing, and a ghost of a smirk on his face. Apparently the eventual legend was still a teenager.
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Gabriel simply nodded at his aide, tilting his head to one side in an "after you" gesture. It took but a moment to take a step and arrive at...a facsimile of his quarters at the monastery on Sanctuary. A place of peace and reflection. And a fairly comfortable bed. It was the last item which interested him the most; with but a thought, he was clad in jeans and a t-shirt, though he took a moment to slip his sneakers off. He mumbled to himself as he lay down. "Feels good to take the metal off for a bit." With that, he was asleep. He awoke after what felt like a fantastic night's sleep, but in the relative time frame of Heaven had been just a couple of hours. He stood, feeling refreshed, and surprisingly fresh. He slipped on his shoes, stood up, and gave his wristwatch a shake... And was once more clad in his shining raiment. He smiled and stepped out of his room before disappearing in a whirl of air and a faint thundering that echoed through the stone halls. He was back in the stable in moments, sitting down at the desk with horse designs carved in it. "Right then ladies and gentlemen, looks like we've got a busy schedule ahead of us. Can one of you give me the highlights? Ah, yes, thank you. Now, I'm thinking that if we prod this group here, in this way-" And so he worked on. Concentrating hard on keeping the conquests to conquests of ideas and movements, of minimizing the violence, of making things better than they were before. Even if the improvement could barely be noticed by mortals.
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DC 10 Fort Save: 10.
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Will nodded at the answers. He didn't like the second one, but he'd signed up for this trip. Didn't mean he trusted the flea-bitten pile of blue fur, though. He remembered his mother's warnings. William Cline gathered up his two bags, gripping them perhaps a bit tighter than strictly necessary, and stepped toward the blue simian that would be their trip to the moon. He would wait to see how close Chase and the others got, trying to avoid actually touching Cosmo if at all possible. In all of this he would also be seeking to act as casually as possible, something that may or may not succeed. Elias at least would likely end up figuring something was up, but the other psychic was someone who likely wouldn't pry if Will didn't intentionally make a scene.
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William laughed at the question. "Which one, Gramma? I mean, there's at least a couple girls who I'm sure Dad would call "ninjas" at the school. I'm not dating any of them or anything. I just flirt at them once in a while. One of them's about to graduate anyways. I just mostly appreciate being able to talk to kids my age without hiding my powers, you know? It's always awkward at normal schools." There's perhaps a trace of sadness in that, but it's gone quickly. "Anyways, I'm not really spending special amounts of time with anyone right now. Trust me, Gramma, if I get a girlfriend I'll send you the picture ASAP."
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Keep in mind, if I remember right, that's 7 5-foot cubes of material. Meaning you get as much material as would be contained in that many cubes. Which is a lot.
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Thoughtspeed >Permission Slip >Sweet Child O' Mine >Double Dutch >So There's That Blasted Cow >Ice Age Cometh Fenris (Archived, count this toward Cobalt Templar) >Shadows of History GM Posts (Count toward Cobalt Templar) >Stirring Up A Metallic Nest >New Ventures Cobalt Templar >Reunions And Waffles >Never Did Run Smooth >Night Rings Gabriel (Count toward Cobalt Templar) >Come and See
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William sighed in a bit of relief as the three punks wandered off. He'd really been hoping there wouldn't be a fight out here. He watched them leave, then wandered into the crowd, trying to just let the sudden stress vent off, so that he could enjoy the ice sculpture festival again. And then he heard the gasps and saw the one guy, Gene?, standing there again. Except this time an old woman's life was in danger. Not acceptable. Will's eyes narrowed, and he moved back from the now panicking crowd, ducking into a suddenly-empty tent that miraculously had no one in it. In a blur of motion too fast for a normal eye to track, William Cline was gone, and Thoughtspeed stood in his place! And then in a blur of black and green, he was standing not far from Gene, a rapier of bright green energy held in front of him in a duelist's stance. "Hey! Snowcone! How about you pick on someone more threatening than a little old lady, huh? Or are you scared to face someone who can actually fight back?"
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Well, Will's nominally still trying to keep the whole "secret identity" thing going, so... Move Action: Slip away in the crowd (possibly with a bit of Speed) to someplace out of sight. Free Action: Use Quickness 3 (x10, which brings a 6 second Full Round Action change down to .6 seconds, which makes a Free Action) to change into costume. Free Action: Activate Kinetic Blades and switch it to the Duelist Blade configuration. Move Action: Get Thoughtspeed in plain view of the bad guy. Let me know if a recently-emptied tent is better, or a tight grove of trees, or what. The point is to slip somewhere no one will see him.
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Initiative: 33. Hopefully that 20 doesn't doom the rest of my rolls.
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"The next time I see Medea, she's the one getting tossed around." Nevertheless, Cobalt Templar tossed Unferth with a contemptous backhand, the mercenary landing in a heap. Once the would-be-demigod was airborne, he was back to his (still kind of big but not giant) normal self. He gave Stronghold a long, unreadable look when she said he didn't have it in him to kill. Finally he sighed and shook his head. "He's down and not a threat. I'm just frustrated these scumbags managed to kill someone before we stopped them." He smirked at Temperance's mention of turning Medea to stone and tossing her into the Challenger Deep. "That's not a bad idea." After that he'd lapse into silence until the police arrived, at which point he'd give his statements on the events that occurred. After a final round of goodbyes with the other heroes, he'd streak off at incredible speed to...somewhere.
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Will sighed a bit. Hero stuff with your family could be lame, but he hadn't even gotten to DO anything yet! But his father had asked him to do something, and he didn't want his grandmother to get caught up in this. Plus maybe he could get her away from the guy who didn't look any older than himself but had apparently been a big-time supervillain once? "Yeah. Right Grandma, let's go. You want to race me or anything on the way back?" Assuming his grandmother didn't fight him or his father on the matter, Will would escort her back toward their house, keeping his senses alert for the Samedi impersonator. If the guy tried to touch his grandmother Will would give him the worst headache in existence.
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Corbin gives Alfonso one of those "are you actually serious?" looks when the other young man completely boffs what the Impressionists did. "Some of my art is a near-exact recreation of a person or scene, whether staged or from memory. But some of what I've done is take the actual apperance of people I know and put them in a situation that didn't actually happen, but that could have happened. So some of it is the drawing equivalent of writing a fiction novel, I suppose. And putting aside my personal enjoyment of Arthurian style legend, which has a fair number of magic ponds, I find the historical implications of this Pool rather fascinating. I'm a student of History as much as I am Art. If I can end up gaining more historical knowledge while also getting a subject for later artistic works, it's just a bonus." He gave Christina a smile and a nod. "Yeah, I do kind of like how varied the US can be, geographically. Really all of North America has some good variety, but like you said, at least some of that is just by dint of how big it is. Plenty of places for horseback riding, though." Corbin waited patiently as Christina examined the map and proposed a plan of action. He frowned at the rough terrain. "I'm not sure it would be wise to split up, even as large as our group is. The ground looks treacherous enough that going solo might prove problematic-" Well, for the 3 "guides", maybe, probably not for the three heroes for one reason or another. "-and as far out from civilization as we are, sticking together to help out if something goes wrong is wisest. Besides, we can still all watch different directions and so forth. Sometimes having multiple people examining the same thing helps more."
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"Your indignation is amusing. Your resistance, less so." The otherworldly cyborg let Dragonfly's attacks roll over himself. His plating warps a bit, but corrects itself in due time. Instead, he almost casually takes exaggerated steps, putting all three heroes in his sights. "I think I need to ensure that all of you are subdued at once, however. It would not due to have you interfering further." The words weren't as ominous as the shift in his body. The barrels on his arms retracted, compacting down to small boxes...while two large boxes on his back locked themselves on his shoulders and opened on the front, revealing...multiple glowing points of light. The Curator Katastrof entity had again left himself a bit open to take his time to set up the attack, and apparently impart some extra charge, going by the slight charring on the launcher boxes, though the charring was going away almost as soon as it happened... And then he fired, and searing points of plasma energy roared across the room, filling the air for a moment like a cluster of miniature stars, before they all homed in on the three heroes. They'd hit like a ton of bricks with a nice bit of sunburn, but while they might hurt, they still wouldn't kill.
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Harrier (26): Unconscious; 3 HP Curator Katastrof (25): Bruised x3 (3 Incurable) Miss Americana (18): Uninjured; 7 HP Dragonfly (8): Uninjured; 3 HP (risking Fatigued; if the HP count is wrong here let me know). Right then. Free Action: Switch Arsenal Systems to Plasma Missile Barrage. Free Action: All-Out Attack 5 (so Defense is now +10), then Power Attack for 5 (Attack is back to +15, Blast DC is 35). Move Action: Again alter position so no one is behind him for a moment. Standard Action: FIRE ZE MISSILES! Ranged Attack vs Everyone: 32. Pretty sure that hits all y'all. That'll be a DC 35 Toughness Save.
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Corbin couldn't help but smile a bit at Nina's theorizing. "I can speak with absolute confidence that Superior was not sent by the Lor. And the Nazi technology, both here and on the world I was on, was not from any one source. They had some brilliant minds working for them. Twisted, evil minds, but brilliant ones." He seemed to space out for a moment before shaking it off. He frowned as Mark spoke. "I don't think anyone here is going to blame you or your mother, Mark. Neither of you controls the publisher. But...you said they're using actual Freedom City superheroes? Can they do that? I would think there are legal means in place for all of us to control our public image, so to speak. If not individually, then corporately through the Freedom League or other teams and groups." He looked toward Eve, knowing she was the aspiring lawyer in the group.
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Gabriel listened as Nick discussed the mechanics of taking a break with the angels. He then glanced to his own aides, who by this point were all dressed in sharp suits of white with silver accessories. One of them handed him a water bottle and some aspirin, which he downed rather quickly, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. "I wish I could take a case of these home with me. Heavenly headache medicine is the best." He took a few more sips of water as he glanced at a few papers on his desk, and then looked at the others around him. "I think to give my best work, I'm going to need a power nap of an hour or two. Is there someplace I can go to get some quiet for a bit?" Silly question, but it seemed polite.
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Do people need a particular sort of GM post from me? I'm willing to write more but I need feedback on what people are expecting. Alternatively we can declare the thread dead.
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Cobalt Templar's aim dropped as the "drama" played out. He held no real sympathy for the spirit of a woman who had been planning to rip another woman's soul out to ride around in her meat suit. And part of him expected Unferth's reaction. But Medeas petty cruelty was shocking. And the revelation that the dead victim had died in a botched ritual...it was too much. His face locked into a snarl of anger, and he tossed his gun-construct aside, where it disappeared in a flash of flame. Fast-Forward had delivered a grand insult to Medea; a slap to the face, freezing her in time. Unferth required something more direct. Direct enough that Templar's second step was twice the size of the first. He was now a giant version of himself, sans cap, with the helmet covering everything but two eyes the burned like pits of blue fire. One great hand reached down and wrapped around Unferth's unmoving legs, even as the man continued his futile protests. "You do not get to mourn!" He yanked the demigod mercenary into the air so that for a moment so they locked eyes...and then began slamming him into the ground like a rag doll. He spoke as he slammed, the strikes emphasizing his booming words. "An innocent is dead because of you! You don't get to mourn your idiot lover girl! You don't get to mourn not ripping out another woman's soul! YOU DO NOT GET TO CRY! YOU DO NOT DESERVE THE CHANCE FOR TEARS!" It would seem the blue-clad hero was a bit upset.