Ari

GM The appearance of somebody with an uncanny resemblance to one of Freedom City's quietest and most feared crimefighters certainly had an effect. Almost as one the dragon masked men clumped together, trying not to be in front as the green-eyed icon of silent menace while pushing somebody else ahead. They weren't running yet, but that was just because it was pretty much guaranteed what would happen then. One luckless member of the club, his gas tank and gaping fangs slightly askew, found himself elected spokesman and placed in the fore, a generous distance away from the others. He opened and shut his mouth helplessly for a few seconds before Solvrytter helpfully entered the scene. The look the dragon-mask gave him of mingled surprise and relief quickly gave way to suspicion though. And soon grew tinged with contempt. "Tough talk, Knight-Man!" he shot back, his voice(almost as young as Gunnar's own) trembling a little, but gaining strength as he went on "But there's two of you and five of us, and your buddy there, he sure ain't the real Raven, just some dude in a costume! So you just turn around, Knighty," he folded his arms and a smug grin spread behind his ghoulish mask, "'cause only a fool walks into the Dragon's lair!" "Hell yeah!" "Go back home, kids, momma's calling!" A chorus of agreement rang out, and the gang in the alley hastily backed each other up, tensing for a fight they were pretty sure they could win. The ragged man behind them was paralyzed by obvious confusion, and started to carefully edge away when one of the shock-sticks grabbed him, slamming the man against the wall with a knee and holding the crackling end close to the man's head.

Their Will save amounts to 16. So no dice there. It would appear things are at an impasse. or ARE they?

It'd be profoundly weird to have all of them be jackasses all the time. Hestia was a kindly, open-hearted soul who willingly stepped down from the Twelve Olympians to give her place to Dionysus, Hermes vigilantly guarded travelers(when he wasn't indulging a capricious sense of humour) and Zeus went up against the king of monsters twice despite suffering defeat and unimaginable pain the first try. Dionysus was very much about wild parties on mountainsides, inextricably tied to the image of drunken Maenads tearing things and even people apart in a frenzy, but he's also the god of staying up late with your friends as you share a bottle and reminisce about the past. Them not being on good terms with Divine doesn't require them to be vicious, just not in agreement with her. And as larger-than-life beings of primal force and vision, with relatively little of the human touch, it's easy to imagine that they'd view what we today would think of as shocking and atrocious excess as just a good time. It could demonstrate just how far human thinking has changed since their days, when even "one of their own" is THAT out of alignment. In short, I think it would work better to portray them as wrong rather than evil.

Jackgar Prime! According to the laws of friction, Victory is grand. Here's hoping you manage to outfly the Black Racer for many years to come. Happy birthday! Hurrah on turning 33, Moira! It is a lovely number.

I've got basically nothing else to add, unless we do a quick 'dismantling small-talk' epilogue, which could be good for setting up something for the next thread.

Gamma(the ATOM-SMASHER) goes on 14.

GM "Yes! Yes!" cried Cavesson, flashing Miss Grue a thankful(if uncertain) smile "Listen to her, Ward. Is this really what you want?" "Of course it is, why else would I do it?" demanded Gamma, looking between the new arrival to his captive with mounting annoyance "This is a long time coming and I've gotten over what was holding me back." His eyes suddenly blazed like torches, nuclear fire coalesced around his free hand, and tossing the professor aside he charged at Miss Grue like a blue/green bullet, the tiles melting under his feet. "Words won't stop me, alien!" Gamma thundered, swinging a vicious left hook at the teenaged terra-tourist!

Sweet mercy Sandman. What Raveled said, hope you can get your immune system to smackdown the bad stuff.

Their collective Intimidate roll: 15. They fail at not being scared, so Shaken! -2 to future rolls for the duration of this scene.

Anyway, that sounds like a good place for an Intimidate roll, Thunder King!

GM "That's 'cause it's not" retorted Joe, an eyebrow twitching "not anymore. Henching's a thing of the past, going the way of bright jumpsuit uniforms and gettin' called "MINION" all the damned time. Me and my crew are going to change things, Joe, and for the better, no more desperate people being shoved around by stronger people who basically don't have a soul, no more working conditions that'd make anyone not suicidal have second thoughts!" His voice dropped and for a moment he looked genuinely sheepish "Look, I'm sorry I didn't say we worked security for super-criminals, but I knew you'd just say 'Hell no' and probably deck me. We need this, and you. And I need an unbroken jaw. See...it's kinda complicated." "We don't protect our clients from superheroes, if they get wind of the boss we cut right out, most we give is a warning for the really good ones, the kind that appreciate what we do protect 'em from: other supervillains. You know how hard it is to keep a secret lab going in this city? Most last a few months at best before something happens, and weirdos like Lettam and Mist know it, and they know my boys and girls can keep 'em safe when something does go down." He raised his powerful hands in a placating gesture, eyes grim "Most 'henchman' are exactly what you'd expect them t'be, Joe. Untrained, stupid or pitiably ignorant. And so long as the markets full of people willing to do whatever for quick cash like supers promise, it's gonna stay a problem. With professionals like me and my crew, we can at least make sure scum like that don't get their hands on anything like what the bosses brew up." Fielders shrugged "If you want out, I won't try and stop you. But please, Joe, I can't do this alone."

Okay then. Since Polarity is unseen by the general assembly, she can make use of a surprise round should she decide to start combat.

'A forensics team? Good, I'm better with crimes in progress than ones that already happened. Something to work on.' The avian avenger wasn't too worried about the newcomers intending to sweep all the clues away, even the smallest clue would be invaluable to everyone involved. From the sound of things the three women would be pretty hard to get past too. And him? 'It'd be nice to find out what had happened' he thought as he made rapidly for the kitchens and living area, cape hanging close about booted feet and head a little forward, yellow eyes peering into the gloom 'But this isn't my strong suit. Better to leave it to people who know what they're doing, aye?' As he entered, the eyes flicked about the walls and ceiling, legs and arms tensing for a spring...and then relaxed, as Osprey recalled that Synapse had VERA well in hand. Surveying the doors leading into the various sleeping quarters, he paused a moment at one marked with a heraldic 'C' standing just across from the one flatly marked 'H', eying the handprint scanner. Reaching out, he felt the screws holding the metal casing, wondering what he'd find inside...and stepped away, hastening to the kitchen/lounge area with a sharp shake of his head. Time for that later. Sweeping into the narrow room, he glanced around, taking in the scattered signs of the team's idiosyncrasies; from the crazy lamps and icons of pop-art to the small and lovingly tended grove of tiny oaks in the corner, the neat labels on the small kitchenette marked with some official seal, a ragged Union Jack in a frame overwritten by a dozen names thanking Taskforce UK for something "We're sworn to forget.", all of the wildly disparate natures colliding into something tantalizingly close to cohesion. Ignoring that as best he could, the young man scanned the tables and floor, then opened the fridge and checked inside. Everything was important, no matter how obscure.

Notice rollllllls: three failures and two successes. He's spotted, and while they show a pretty sharp increase on the terror-ometer they get ready to fight: initiative roll for them is 14. Of course, Nevermore has substantially better ways of getting around than them, and no Freedonian is quite crazy enough(unless very drunk) to chase alone after somebody with those kinds of glowing green eyes.

Yeah, they don't see anything, and would be pretty unlikely to anyhow! Polarity sees five young men wearing silver dragon masks getting closer to a slightly older(not by much, probably only a few years older than her) unshaven man in warm but ragged-edged clothing with a large backpack bearing the American flag. There's a gun in the alley, and three of the dragon-masks are carrying short pieces of metal crackling with electricity at the tips. The other two have tanks on their backs attached to their masks, which are heavier-looking than the others. One of them still has wisps of blue smoke curling from the mouth.

Nochehuatl shifted a little from foot to foot. The massive sea-warrior was uncomfortably familiar with piracy, though luckily mostly on the receiving side. The strategy here baffled him however. "Ghosts from the past age?" Wave-Eye gurgled, twisting his head quizzically to one side and staring at the captain with what was likely confusion in his depthless black eyes "And they wish only to be seen and keep the passengers at hand? I do not see the profit. Have they made no threats, no commands at all?" he pressed with a deep rasp "Captain Blood, that creature does nothing without an eye for gain!" Admittedly, it wasn't the normal kind of wealth the cursed captain was after, but still, this crime seemed random even from a masterless pirate "Perhaps...one of your guests has something? Aye, that could be it." a light flashed in the triton's dull eye "An artifact they know naught of, whose power draws the cruel thing here. Young Lady Temperance," with a clatter of bronze armor Wave-Eye made a slight bow "could your eyes tell if the shiplord Blood was here, and if so, where?" Turning to the other two young women, he added gravely "Well met, fellow guardians. I am Wave-Eye, son of Tlaloc, father of the blessed rain and Chalchiuhtlicuë, mother and queen of waters. Alas," with a creak he grinned abashedly, exposing rows of needle-sharp teeth as white as bone "I am of little help in subtle matters, my senses and divine might are bound to this world alone. What of yours?" He noted the Atlantean girl with a twinge of encouragement. If one so young had come, then surely the people aboard would soon be rescued. Unless it was to save the face of their elders should they fail...

Happy birthday Gizmo! Here's hoping you see many more.

Oh yeah, but voices can be faked without a huge amount of trouble. If we had videophones, now...

Notice rolls(x20): none mark his presence as the duo gets nearer, and that will carry over to actually going into the main den if he chooses to do so. Same with Blodeuwedd if TiffanyKorta wants to try her luck too. If any of them had gotten a 20 I'd have ruled that a success, though then they'd have been met in the tunnel without spoiling the larger ointment. The Redcaps are represented by their stats in the Book of Magic with the addition of plentiful Regeneration.

GM The tunnels twisted and turned and branched, but only to avoid roots and stones that intruded with uncommon grace into the passage. Light was sparse but sufficient and the going easy, without even damp patches or rough bits, even bugs. In fact, there wasn't so much as a worm curling or beetle scurrying. Besides the horse, the humans and the Fey there seemed hardly a living thing to be found. If nothing else the people of Avalon were good at excising things they found disagreeable, such as the tiresome details of biospheres. Without much deviation the tunnels led to the well-worn entrance of a large chamber dug out of the dark earth, flanked by some of the most placid and unattentive guards the uncanny crimefighters had ever seen, Redcaps with stiff hats and tankards as big as them in their hands lolling against the either side of the root-festooned arch, staring into the middle distance and chatting idly about some Nereid both of them knew. Past them the dry fairy-tale tunnel(which sparkled whenever the eyes moved, and in which nuggets of gold peeked out from cracks in the walls) was the source of all the noise echoing crazily in the air. A massive hall carved into a globe, its roof lost in a glitter and dreamy haze where tree roots spiraled and mingled like a pile of ouroboros, the atmosphere filled with smoke from a dozen pipes and smelling of tantalizing food and mouth-watering drink behind the wood counters of the towering red-cheeked man with the shark-like grin and antlers at the far end, pots simmering and sizzling in perfect time to make jaunty music. Redcaps were everywhere. On the walls, the floor, flying through the air, jostling and fighting, their teeth flashing and fists flying, but there was a small group around the Black Knight who were laughing loud enough to drown them all out. Sitting or standing in a rough circle(with one perched on the warrior's pauldroned shoulder) were a bunch of older looking fairies with fine grey clothes and axes in their belts, most had to keep hold of one another to remain upright as they recovered from whatever witticism they'd just heard. The Black Knight seemed well at ease, sitting in a large wooden chair with legs crossed and one contented arm behind their head. Though for whatever reason they still had their helmet on. A white-and-gold sword-belt strewn with jewels, beautiful enough to cause a stampede at any auction, hung across the chair's back, clashing obscenely with the black sword it held and the Knight's sleek black Gothic armor. A similarly monochrome shield hung carelessly on the wall a few feet from the Knight's head, next to a small sign advising potential challengers to first rap the slender bulwark. For the moment the warrior was content to sit in their chair and sip something from a human-sized tankard in a mailed hand, though the moment the laughter started to die they spoke. The voice was clear and strong as a bell, but shockingly human next to the bloodless voices of the elves, and a few of their words slurred as the Black Knight said. "T'would not be the first time one of them has perished by their own hand. But it IS the first a Stub-Kin stabbed themselves in the back to keep someone else from doing it!"

Knowledge(arcane Lore) roll(totally forgot Noche had it!): 26.

GM Vector "Yeah, we get it." said the sturdier of the pair, looking a little crestfallen, "I'm Charles Blake". His buddy was quiet except for a muttered "Edwin Docker", but nodded glumly. Obviously neither were feeling up to explaining how they and their pals had been so totally fooled by such a threadbare story. The police were a little skeptical at first("Terminus weapons? Here? Look, if this is a joke..."), but instantly agreed to show up when they heard that the mysterious Vector was involved, the officer on the phone saying "You supers don't go in for bad cases! This'll have some meat on it for sure!" Getting the still woozy smuggler trussed up with packing rope, which the two men did with relish, had just been accomplished, when the glittering space galleon fell from the black clouds and swept into position above the battleground, the captain's challenge ringing out over the roaring wind and tossing waves that followed her arrival! Blake glanced momentarily at the gun tossed onto the ground, but a second look at the ship told him what a futile gesture that would be, and he promptly sank to his knees, hands on his head, followed by Docker who whispered up at Vector "Uh...is this Cap'n Kraken?" "I don't think Kraken's a lady," Blake said thoughtfully "But whoever, they're all yours Vector!" he added with a thumbs-up and a weak smile. The half-conscious man who had bamboozled them wasn't in sound enough mind to be intimidated, and in a cracked and wavering voice shouted awkwardly up at the glorious vessel "C-c'm'n down if ya hard 'nuff!" In all the commotion, the noise of distant sirens was pretty easily lost. Stormbreaker The communications officer suddenly raised a tendril, swiftly adjusting a receiver for radio waves "Incoming message, captain, coming from the habitation center." ~"whzzzkrsheeee-ou know I hate clams. Hey, is this the Ages Lost? If you can hear this, captain, this is the Sydney Police Department. Glad you showed up so soon."~ The voice sounded just a little more cautious than grateful. ~"We're getting reports that something's happening up in Freedom City, ASTRO Labs just sent out word that a burst of Terminus radiation was recorded on their science detectors. The FCPD has gotten calls about some kind of disturbance down at their shipping ports. Could be nothing, but...we'd be grateful if you'd check it out, and quite willing to discuss a suitable reward. If Vector's there Anyone can be Vector over the phone, Jerry, we could use some more supers on this too."~ From the aerial vantage point, it was easy to make out the flashing red-blue lights as the cruisers raced to take charge of the otherworldly cargo.

DC20 Intimidate save for the smugglers(including the leader, who has just come around): They fail. Except for the Leader!

While discussing How I Met Your Mother, and it's impending ending.

GM At that moment, it happened. A shot rang out! A door slammed! A man screamed, desperate and terrified! An alley just a dozen yards north of the trio was lit by the cold glare of lights mounted on the old brick walls of clustered stores, casting the shadows of several figures wearing jagged masks creeping up to a man in a tattered coat, his hands up in a futile gesture of defence. A puff of smoke rolled up over the roofs , and the white blaze was sharpened by a burst of orange. Several passersby had stopped dead at the sounds, the ones closest looking at the alleyway in mingled dread and pity. A few pulled out cell phones and dialed the police. None of them were up for tangling with the Dragons, though!