Ari

Taking one look at the slow, methodical monster bearing down on them, Wave-Eye nodded to Harrier and ran for one of the barriers, the taste of raw decay and the smell of the end of everything hanging in the air lending speed to his limbs as his heavy feet slammed into the slippery metal floor still slick from his recent attacks. Seeing a small porthole lying open and pouring water into the ship, he hurriedly changed course from the sealed doorway, instead diving with all speed and power he could muster at the narrow gap, praying that he could squeeze through and get outside. His arms and head went in loosely enough, and he was beginning to eagerly strain further through when he found his hips and legs proved utterly incapable of following. He twisted and pulled, bent his limbs as hard as he could, and still his lower half stubbornly refused to pass on into the cool grey ocean outside. With a muttered curse he retreated from his abortive escape attempt like a crab, glancing apologetically to the others as he hurled himself towards the nearby metal slab, conch already moving towards his lips.

Sheet edited to amend those problems, dropped Flight to rank 7, Super-Strength to rank 6, dropped the Progression and Selective Feats from the second Blast. EDIT: Also, as per pointing out that Nullifying all powers of a particular descriptor is 2PP/rank, fixed the listed cost. EDIT2: Incorrect listed cost of the Array, put the two extra points in his Reflex save.

Seeing that Jubatus and the man in the bee-themed armor had successfully managed to escape the towering inferno, the King of Suits collapsed to the ground, happily letting himself be led over to the ambulances, gratefully accepting the offered water to both wash the taste of smoke out of his mask and get the grime off of his gasmask. The gloves and boots were singed, parts of the armor were stained with soot and smoke, and the cape was unpleasantly ragged. It would take hours to repair it all but, he reminded himself it could have been far, far worse. As soon as he had recovered the much-needed oxygen in his bloodsteam, he quietly went off in search of the other three, earnestly thanking them for their help. Finding Jubatus first he grinned at the super-fast cat, saying brightly "Ah, the times we meet at! It would be good to see you during a less stressful event, Jubatus. That aside, please accept my thanks for your assistance, from what I have heard you were quite invaluable!" he proclaimed enthusiastically. it didn't take him long to learn of Blue Jay's exploits, and after chatting with Jay for a bit he hurried off to mee the young archer. Saluting her gravely he said "I commend your bravery, miss. If more were as courageous as you at your age...I have no idea, it would proably be better though" he shrugged "I am called the King of Suits, if ever you have the inclination and time I would welcome your help in the Fens" shaking her hand after a few further words he left to look for the third Bee-Keeper. Locating the armored man at last, he clapped Baxter heartily on the back "Good work, comrade! The people are safe, barely a limb was harmed, and I dare say the people who have just lost so much will not fall into despair. It is a godly work we do, eh?" he said, grinning cheerfully at the helmeted face "By the way...I don't believe I caught the name you go by. What do you call yourself, if I may be so bold?"

Marceau was busy scanning the campsite for any obvious defensive positions when he was casually asked how he knew about the Redcap rebellion. Startled, his voice became a shade softer in his hurried answer of "Oh, ah..news travels quickly in these woods, brother! I was on my way here, guided by some of the birds, when I came upon that human" he gestured vaguely to Rene "wandering the forest. i remembered hearing that some of that breed had stumbled through the gate to our world, and seeing as another would do no harm, I took him along." When they reached the cage he watched wretchedly as his friend went into it, quietly repeating "Viva la Liberte" as the old man went into the harsh and imposing enclosure. To the one who had questioned him he asked midly "Speaking of which, brother: what news of the revolt? What chance do we stand against Parsinkle and the other princes?" he had the terrible feeling he was missing some key factor all this, but for the life of him he couldn't think what.

Thanks for your careful consideration on the matter though, Cubist. I interpreted 'Waffles' mention of "another voice" to mean there was more than one person in the apt. Next time I'll, you know, ASK before deciding to try and add things on like that.

The girl and her father in the apartment that KoS and Bee-Keeper III came to rescue, is who I was thinking of. Kingy got the mom, but I saw no mention of the others being rescued.

Hey...guys? Did we forget the two people that were also in that apartment? >.>

Seeing as she's met El Heraldo, I offer him as a possible comrade-in-revelation.

Oh for the love of God, I knew I was forgetting something. Sure, I'll try for the Escape artist check. 12? figures. Could i try to bust through a potential weak point in the barriers?

King of Suits Strength is All January 2nd, 2007, 12.02 AM Warsaw, Poland It was a chill night, with howling winds that blew the small blizzard through the streets that even then were still dotted by stragglers wearily plodding home, a night where the dull yellow lights of the city gave the only illumination, the moon hidden behind impenetrable clouds. Even the electric lights were sometimes briefly concealed by the gusts of flying snow whirling crazily about. A smattering of insomniacs could have sworn something more substantial played a part in that too, though the way its black body flailed around like a windblown cape made idenification nearly impossible... Marceau Suvou was getting to quite like this line of work. It led him up and down the continent, introduced him to a wide array of fascinating people, and gave him and Aloysius the chance to make a real difference in others' lives beyond anything they could have dreamed of before. Leaning into the next swing as he sailed with an unconcealed grin past an old apartment complex, the grapple line whirred through its pulley as he dropped a few perilous meters before he jerked upwards, the distant clack signalling that he had not misjudged the outcrop. Swinging elegantly through the air towards a flat-roofed office building with a comfortably snow-covered top, he waited until he was just before the summit of the next ascent before releasing the anchor, tucking his legs against his chest and somersaulted with a soft 'whump' onto a low snowbank. Rolling down the squat hill, he jumped to his red-booted feet, dusting himself off with red and black-gloved hands as he surveyed the locale. He was almost at the industrial portion of the metropolis that all cities appeared to have, a place of warehouses, factories and railway yards that gave the most disparate communities a sense of kinship in the weathered iron and occasional belches of smoke. Even tonight, it was alive with activity, with the distant rattles of machnery and ever-present seething plumes extending out of the dozens of chimneys lending weight to the winking amber and yellow lights. He was looking for one warehouse in particular though, one with a exceptionally perilous cargo, the mere reminder of which soured the young costumed vigilante's mood. He had heard from the premier heroine of the city, Blue Eagle, that a number of mysterious shipments had been smuggled into the city lately, all fragments of what she was certain had to be some kind of explosive device. Collaboration with her had led the two to the discovery that it was some kind of implosion bomb, the power of which would be easily great enough to consume Warsaw, even to its suburbs. A rash of kidnappings had prevented Blue Eagle from accompanying him to the latest drop-off point her informants had warned her of, and the King of Suits had set out alone to capture it and whoever had brought it. Descending by the grapple line into the alley below his perch, Marceau comforted himself with the knowledge that he wasn't doing this blind. Macko said they would have to be there for at least thirty minutes, a young Englishwoman with some kind of huge Spanish bodyguard in a bulky coat. He didn't see any weapons on the two, so only pistols are likely, I'll need to search around the place for any hidden guards waiting for the Blue Eagle, but that should be the biggest danger until their delivery boy shows up. Slinking with the utmost care towards the low building, he noted with staisfaction the six quick flashes of a flashlight that briefly scanned the skylight, a sight that would have been lost on anyone not looking for the signal. Marceau breathed a sigh of relief as he slid behind a small pyramid of heavy shipping containers waiting to be loaded onto freight cars. Good! They're using the same system as the last place, too Ducking under a truck that happened to be passing by, the driver intent solely on the writhing road before him, the King of Suits raced up the walls of his destination, secreting himself next to the skylight as he got out the small listening device, he eased up one corner of the heavy-duty glass just enough to toss it with expert precision into the darkness, where it landed atop a mound of sacks just-visible in the ambient light that drifted vaguely in. He listened with care to whatever could be heard within, starting with a wince when the loud English voice spoke up much nearer to the bug than he had anticipated. "But Feuuuud, I'm bored!" exlaimed the voice, sounding very much that, languid and utterly uninterested, barely able to vent its frustration. It was what he would have called almost a Liverpool accent, if he had known the difference between English accents much more than he did. Continuing in its impatient vein the voice said "You keep telling me "We must wait for Paris to get here. Before that, nothing."" In answer to the mocking words(spoken in a faux-Spanish accent), a far deeper voice said only "Risk, for all we know, we are already being observed by our prey. Be quiet, get back into the center by me." This was said in a far more authentic version of the mannerisms parodied by the Englishwoman, who muttered grouchily "Alright, fine, I'll sulk over there instead of over here, then." 'Risk's voice sounded like many young and rich delingquents he had encountered, but the voice of 'Feud' filled him with dread, but he could not place why. They sounded like normal people, but something about the measured tone, the cool and unshakable calm that was in every syllable... Shaking off the funk that was beginning to grow on him the King of Suits quickly got into a better hiding place behind the nearby ventilator, not wanting to be noticed by the carrrier. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long on the frozen roof, as the sound of labored steps crunching through the snow reached his ears just after he began to lose feeling in his ears. Taking a chance, the young Frenchman poked his small periscope over the edge of the roof, beholding a heavyset man with reddish-blonde hair, thick green winter clothes and a long scarf wrapped around most of his head. He was carrying a wooden crate. So were the other five of him. There was a long silence as Marceau digested what he was looking at, staring in disbelief through the periscope at the duplicator below. But...none of the other places had the cameras record copies like this a sudden noise behind him alerted him to danger just in time for the crushing weight to descend on his head as he turned it, sending him insensible to the ground, sliding off the roof to land on the snow in front of the silent duplicators with a cushioned thud. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ He awoke to a jabbing pain in his neck, and was badly confused when a hand that seemed bigger than his head clamped over his mouth when he opened it to cry out. Blinking at the dim lights that still stung his eyes, he peered uncertainly at the wavering figures looming above him, struggling briefly when he found himself tied to a small metal chair, but ceasing his efforts when he realized how little effect they were having. On his right was an athletically-built woman with dyed-silver hair, a prominent nose and hazel eyes in a navy-blue suit, with a heavy coat around her shoulders to help ward off the cold and an impish smile. A thin blade was in her hand, speckled with his blood. To his left stood the blonde man, who on closer inspection had watery blue eyes and a look of perpetual unconcern. his hands were in his(surprisingly deep) pockets and he seemed quite content to keep them there. Marceau realized with a jolt that he could feel a breeze through his hair, that his cowl had been neatly removed, its intricate saftey features circumvented. He rarely felt more naked than in that moment. In front of him stood a swarthy, massive and heavily-muscled woman, easily seven or more feet tall, her straight black hair pulled back into a ponytail, an enormous wool-lined blue coat casually over one shoulder, under which she was wearing a dark grey and purple costume that left her startlingly powerful arms and hands exposed. She wasn't smiling, but the glint in the black eyes told him she was laughing on the inside. Her scarred face opened its mouth, and she said "Ah, good, he is awake. Can you speak?" after several seconds of attempts the Frenchman managed to mumble in his native tongue, other languages being for the moment beyond his power "<Y-yes...>" the imposing woman seemed quite pleased at this. "Then I bid you hola, King of Suits. We have been waiting for you and that Blue Eagle imbecile to fall into our final trap all night. The Players have been payed a great deal to get rid of the flying woman, and you will be excellent bait. Do not move..." with deft movements that belied the clumsy appearance of her hands, she tied a gag around his mouth "that should keep you from making any noises we don't want heard. Risk," she said to the white-haired woman "your orders?" Polishing the blade on a sleeve, Risk gave the question some obvious thought before answering "Hm...Feud, take up position next to that forklift near the pile of crates, keep it propped up in case you need to throw it. Pawn" this to the dull-eyed blonde man "put a few of yourselves around the exits, keep hidden unless we fail to get Blue Eagle with the implosion blast. I'll get her partner roughed up and ready to star in our little charade" she concluded, patting Marceau kindly on the shoulder "then I will get into my gear and we shall add another to the list of Warsaw's historic dead." With a slow inclination of her head Feud stalked over to the appointed place with heavy strides, while the one christened Pawn loped away into the darkness beyond the pool of light cast by the bare bulb above them. Marceau had the footsteps of the two minions drilled into his memory, for they both failed to cover the stiff metallic sound of Risk's own steps, which brought his tormentor right next to him... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Breathing was painful. The world around him throbbed quietly along with the bruises, and he had an ominous ache below his tenth rib that told him something very bad had happened to it. Suddenly a warm light was on his face, golden like the rising sun. For one blissful moment Marceau thought he was about to awaken from some horrible dream..and then his vision resolved into the warehouse, the gag was still bound tightly around his head, and a small spotlight was trained at his face. Risk was standing behind it, looking quite cross in her suit of simultaneously form-fitting and concealing grey and rust-colored armor "Took you long enough to tell us about her flying speed, stubborn berk" she grumbled while securing his bonds more tightly to the chair, which had been attached by one of the Pawns to a five foot tall and one foot across gunmetal grey steel cylindrical canister, identical in all respects to the various pieces of technology the King of Suits and Blue Eagle had been so busy capturing, except this one was fully put together, nad hummed ominously. It struck him like a hammer-blow that all the work and careful planning they had done was all for nothing, and had merely served to lead them more easily into a deathtrap. He sank into the harsh metal of the chair, thinking dully Well, at least we'll-wait another revelation struck him, and he looked at the bomb tied behind him with utter horror. They're going to destroy this whole place! Everything for miles around, gone! They'll no doubt find a way to escape, but the others... He very suddenly felt almost sick with fear, and burst into sweat as nighmare visions began passing before his eyes. His musings were interrupted by an irritable punch from Risk "Quit moping! You're friend will be here in a few, and soon you two busybodies will be in better place! So perk up" she stepped around to behind him, still talking casually "So, just to be in the clear, we're going to atomize your pal with a beam from the opened top of this most excellent clever device, then detonate it after our own escape. Please understand, there really is nothing you can do, so no funny stuff, alright?" she explained midly, the tik-tak of fingers tapping at a keyboard drumming into the young man's skull. He had checked furtively about himself when the young woman's back was turned(which was rare), and he had discovered that while he was out of it every last one of his various weapons and tools had been removed from their hiding places, and even the miniscule rotors used in emergency submersion had been skillfully cut out of his suit. Oh God, he thought wretchedly Why must it all end like this? What will Aloysius tell Mom and Dad? How will he convince someone to replace me with THIS hanging over them? he was very nearly in despair. Gently guaging the weight of his small prison, he soon figured out that it would take considerable effort to throw himself to either side, and slowly at that. No good, I would have to put far more pressure on it in a shorter time than I have, and these synthetic bonds might as well be iron for all I can do to shift them. If only I could get at it from a better angle, then I could dismantle the chair and untangle this mess A faint wooshing noise jolted him out of the brief reverie, and he heard the tell-tale sounds of his captors readying for the Blue Eagle's arrival. Risk flashed by in the gloom, a device that looked uncannily like a b-movie ray gun in one hand, a featureless helmet held in the other. Then all was still, and he heard his own breath, and his desperate, horrified thoughts with nothing to distract him. Nopleasenopleasenopl- with a great *CRASH* one of the skylights that caught and scattered the light fell only a half of a meter from him. Blue Eagle, respelendant in her black and blue, hovered above him, looking down at the sight of her ally beaten bloody and tied to a bomb with no little shock. It was then that Marceau heard the quiet hum increase to a piercing whine, and saw the surging bolt of implosive energy slam into his comrade, crushing her against the ceiling for agonizing seconds before she gradually fought her way free, dragging herself down to the ground, warding off the the deadly ray with a blazing blue shield, but visibly exhausting herself from the effort. Marceau was about to go for a round of recriminations when he realized a way to save everything. Capitalizing on the weight of the ponderous bomb, he flung himself forward, levering the entire mass on top of himself and pinning his body to the harsh concrete floor with a muffled howl of pain as he felt the metal chair all but crush his legs beneath the dull mass. It worked. The beam meant for Blue Eagle instead went searing into the ground, turning a sizeable chunk of the floor, foundation, and several metres of the ground beneath the warehouse into a fine cloud, and in a flash the powerful heroine was beside him, her searing eyes turning the engine of destruction to a pile of scrap within moments. Tearing off her comrade's gag she began "" only to be cut off by a yell of "<To the right, the right!> just before the forklift,"with a roar of displaced air, came spiralling out of the darkness as it was flung by Feud, who charged after it with ground-shaking steps. From behind her, the Englishwoman sprang into the light, aiming the lethal point of a narrow sword at the spine of her foe. From above, the Pawns began to fall like rain, their bodies distorting horrifically as they descended, wrapping themselves into a rope around Blue Eagle's neck. But thanks to the last-ditch efforts of her ally, the Blue Eagle prepared. With a precise flick of her hand, the industrial vehicle was sent careening into Risk, who before the King of Suit's astonished eyes leaped towards it, easily slicing the vehicle into pieces with her sword as she dodged through the cockpit, only to be sent crashing to the ground by a super-humanly fast kick. The strange duplicator proved to be less than a match for the heroine, and most of his efforts proved futile, with his doubles' blows or attempted chokeholds either turned by her incredibly tough skin, or else ending up merely costing him doubles that were destroyed with ease. Feud had marginally more success, quick jabs gradually opening up the heronine's defenses before bringing a crushing left hook into her opponent's stomach that knocked her flat...only to be slammed into the ground by her flying counter-attack, and for her attempts at blocking to end up just bruising her hands. It soon became clear to the trio that victory was not in the cards for them, and at a signal from Risk, the each activated teleportation beacons on their clothes, with Feud saying mildly "" Blue Eagle laughed openly " As she vanished in a flash of blue, the villainess answered "" pointing to Marceau. Luckily for the pinned young man, he hadn't time to process that statement, as it was then that the blow to the head, brutal blunt force trauma and the adrenaline rush of the last few minutes died down. With a quiet and vaguely cocky "<Anytime>" he subsided into unconsciousness for the second time that night. END.

Oh, okay, that makes sense to me. With that in mind, I'll stick to King of Suits, what with him being French and all. If he'd not be horribly ill-suited, of course. In the Parallel Romans vs. Parallel Nazis thing, that sounds like something Wave-Eye would be good for. Breaking folks' weapons, washing away battalions...

Post edited!

Going to try and Intimidate Lorenzo into surrendering. 21!

Raveled brings up a good point, to which I add: why is the Spirit of France seeking vengeance on 'everyone' and not, say, just Germans and Austrians living in her borders? I'm certainly interested(as it would be as good an excuse as any for either El Heraldo or the King of Suits to attend it), and stuff like national spirits going berserk is of course filled with potential. A Roman Parallel Earth needs help stopping an invasion of Nazis? What PL and range(approximately how big the scale is) do you have in mind?

Going to Throw the fellow into the floor in front of Blodeuwedd if that's alright with you.

Wave-Eye will not ask any questions of Harrier, and merely Move All-Out to the nearest way down and begin descending.

"It's a good place to start!" Subito replied hotly, "Pretty much all the stuff you need for studying up on classes is there, too" he added to Tona "not a lot of stuff we're taught that I know about is something that needs us to get our hands dirty. It's stuff like history, politics, the crazier parts of the world we live in" for a moment he looked uneasy before soldiering on "So...lots of book-learning, though how much does depend on what you need to learn. I need to learn about the past history of Puerto Rico, the country who's national spirit I'm empowered by, for instance, so i can be a better guardian when the time comes" he explained. Sticking his hands in his pockets he rocked back and forth on his heels, glancing at the other two girls rhythmically.

Initiative roll: 13. Action on 13.

The smoke and airborne debris was by now overpowering the King of Suits' gas mask, to the point where the taste of burning apartment building was all his mouth was good for. Gritting his teeth against the fog of embers, the rain of dust and bits of charred wood that trickled down onto his shoulders and the roaring flames that seemed to his hazy eyes to be reaching out to snatch him and the Bee-Keeper into a fiery embrace, dragging them down to blazing grave. Giving himself a sharp rap across the skull, Marceau gasped as loudly as he could to the man in the apian-themed armor "If I fall, DO NOT stop to help me up! Search out those people we heard and get them to safety before even thinking about that!" charging onwards he followed his memory of the cries for help to a door that had once been painted green but now was being quickly being consumed by the flames, with a tangle of fallen beams blocking the way. Barely even slowing down he reached for the pack at his belt, muttered a curse under his breath as his fingers were nearly pricked on the razor cards, whipped out a trio of explosive cards and flung them with furious effort at the impeding mass. There was a short flare, and for a horrible moment he thought the lack of oxygen had killed the explosion before it even began. He turned to the Bee-Keeper and began to gasp out "I think we ough-" before being interrupted by the kinetic wave of the explosion, which would have taken him clean off his feet if he hadn't stopped himself by slamming a razor card into the wall beside him. Seeing the opened way before them he shouted, by now light-headed from lack of air "Onwards! pour la gloire!" and surged into the building like some kind of black bird. Seeing the young girl next to the wedged-open window, he sprang even more into action. With a ram-gauntlet, he put his right arm under the girl's shoulders, punched open the window in a shower of splinters both wooden and glassy, and leaped out into the open air with a wild yell towards the ground, anchoring their descent with a grapple line as he fell, taking the impact of the fall with a hideous jolt in his shins and knees, collapsing to the ground, bellowing "Attendez! Au secours, je vous en supplie!" to the nearby medics that his dimming eyes beheld. With his last effort he looked behind himself for the Bee-Keeper, praying desperately for his safety and success...

"Sorry. Bad joke." Subito said with a grin. Adjusting his bandanna mask, El Heraldo glanced at the ground for a moment, deep in thought "I'd say so, yeah. That Cloak guy would want stuff to move as fast as it can so we can pull this one over El Sierpe before he can strike back and nab those people" he agreed, standing on the tips of his toes and flexing them as he prepared for lift-off, inwardly rejoicing at the knowledge he would soon be flying again. "You think we should ask those folks being held what to expect if this guy wants 'em back so badly? Common strategies and stuff" he added by way of clarification "Not sayin' they'll know, but I figure we should at least ask."

"An ingenious plan!" exclaimed El Heraldo with a chuckle, holstering his Banner with a ring of metal as it slid into place "I'll try to keep him off-balance for you!" he added, darting towards the Avian with a sharp challenge of "Stand and face a match for your muscle, winged one!" his arms lashing out in a bear hug that swung around the man's hairy arms, his hands struggling to meet each other behind his back. With no little horror, Subito found his grip feeling almost slack against the powerful brawn of his enemy, and not tensing of his could increase the pressure. Shutting his eyes he called out in his mind O Blue Dame, your strength in this moment! Instantly he found himself filled with renewed power, and he encircled the hammer-bearer like a ring of iron. Granted rang the grave voice in his mind keep at it, I am learning how to defeat him very quickly "You're going down!" shouted El Heraldo, raising the gigantic Avian into the air before suplexing him into the ground in front of Blodeuwedd flashing her a grin he gestured to their foe with a flourish "If you would do the honors, Mz. Blodeuwedd!"

We are just killing it here! Going to make a Grapple attempt. Attack Roll: 21! Grapple roll: 19. Re-rolling(4HP) that: 32!

Sadly, he has no ranks in it. An ungodly oversight.

GM The response was immediate, as Redcaps apepared to spring full-blown from nowhere to surround the pair, harsh voices announcing joy at the sight of another of their kind. Rough hands stretched out of coarse sleeves to slap Marceau on the back or scratch at Rene, and for a few seconds it looked like pandemonium. However, as quickly as they began, they stopped, frozen in place as they bent their heads towards the looming(and however bright the idyllic land was it did loom) forests. Apparently not hearing anything to make them suspicious, they still became much less gregarious, hastily leaidng the two into the camp until they were quite close to the large and imposing cage. On the short walk through the maze of tents, small cooking fires and pens containing snuffling and grumbling boars, Rene could easily tell that the Redcaps feared him. They never touched him except with their hard nails, never letting him out of their sight, and screwed up their wrinkled faces if his gaze happened to meet theirs, edging away with a mutter in their throat. They didn't speak to him, but they did speak to Marceau. "A good catch, brother" grumbled one with a long scar over one closed eye "We could use another old 'un. So many of the huamns we caught are mere kids, babes more fit for playing the red games of the Courts than trucking with us. Not enough..iron in their limbs, " he said by way of expansion, shuddering at the mineral's name "all soft in heart and bone. Say, brother" he added with a sudden note of curiosity "How did you hear of our revolt? I don't remember you in the hills" They had by now almost reached the cage, and both could see within the movements of what could only be the people inside, whispers of assurance to children, bitter remonstrations against the dull-clothed Redcaps, and speculations on why they were there clearly audible. A small wrought-copper door in one wall of the cage seemed the only entryway, and a shove from a pike against Rene's back encouraged him to move towards it.

As said, I hope you have a happy birthday, and that your returns to this day be merry! :toot: