Ari

Please do! They're a great way to make things more difficult, more fun, more engaging and all-around better for yourself and other people playing. This essay by one of the other players does a great job outlining and focusing on what kinds of Complications you might want to have for your PCs: http://www.freedomplaybypost.com/topic/7182-the-art-of-complications/

DC15 Stealth check: 17.

<"My good man,"> Atraxia turned to regard Boots, looking down with a faint bemusement <"I told you before, I am in no danger."> She glanced at the high walls, observed the marching, attentive guards. This would be the easiest mission in her entire life. All that rode on it was her entire civilization. Swallowing, a meaningless reflex here, Atraxia turned one last time to Boots <"Thank you, kind sir. I will not forget your kindness and good service. Please, take this."> Her hand went to the pouch at her side and retrieved something which she placed gently into his hand. Metal of a bright, yellowy colour, in the shape of a small but meaningful amount of gold sovereigns. <"Use it wisely. Farewell, my friend."> With that, Raxia vanished from sight. <"Live long and well."> Turning to the walls Red Moon took a firm hold of the corpse she directed and anchored herself from, launching herself over them with hardly a sound. Now all she needed was an open window. A balcony. A door. A wall.

@Jessica Witchblood hey Jessica Witchblood, welcome to the site! Before the mechanics side, I've a few questions about the fluff. 1.) A girl with red skin who does things that at the least seem to be superpowers, who openly does these things as a way of introducing herself, this didn't catch the attention of anyone in-setting? 2.) How exactly will being a magical vigilante help her pay her way through higher education? 3.) She and her family can see the ends of their lives, can they affect this fate in any way? If not, why not? 4.) Does this fate, her past celebrity and openness with magic, family history of demonic enslavement and current cash-strapped status not merit any additional Complications?

'I look like a ghost' Atraxia swirled experimentally before the streaked and cracking mirror, the long red coat and black scarf doing their job splendidly to conceal her terrasuit and make her look faintly ridiculous at the same time. She didn't add on any more boots or gloves. She needed all the feeling she could get trough the suit's synthetic nervous system. With great care, she tied a tall red hat under her helmet's chin. <"Boots? Certainly."> A moment later and two pair of thick, tough leather boots were on the counter alongside her new clothes. As the sleepy-eyed man behind the till sorted out the price she ran a finger along her new coat. Red. Her favorite color, even when she was small. A rare thing to see beyond the eyes of her people, who surrounded themselves with the blue and white of the Preservers. She distantly realized the total was being announced. <"In silver, then?"> she asked, taking a great handful of the stuff and placing it before the clerk's astonished eyes. <"Now then, Mr. Boots."> she said as the pair left the shop <"Where is this palace?">

<"We have had business with this nation in the past. Much of it, sadly, unfriendly. Recently we have discovered that our...fuel has been tainted. This puts our industry and very civilization at risk. I believe the people or person responsible may be hiding under the cover of your royal court. Thus I have come to discover the truth for myself and for the people of the Moon Court."> Atraxia bowed slightly <"I have learned certain arts and sciences that will permit me free reign of the palace, if you would be so kind as to escort me there. Rest assured, good man, you are putting me in no peril."> Atraxia studied her reflection in an oily patch of the Thamses sliding below her. <"However, I think we should visit a clothier's, first.">

Yeah that works. Dol-Druth is no longer Unconscious, but he is Bruised and has a -2 to all checks, saves and Attack rolls for the rest of the thread.

GM Lord Steam's questing fingers, as they passed over the curling murals of crashing waves and shattering towers, hit a tiny, near-imperceptible catch. It depressed with a *clik*. Then the floor opened up and sent the pair hurtling down! A great, yawning chasm lay beneath the maze, one full of great stalactites, stalagmites and great lakes of black water that obscured whatever shape the vault had been cast in. Caught off-guard and hardly an agile sort at the best of times, Dol-Druth went tumbling head-over-heels with a garbling howl of surprise! His frazzer, clenched tight between his sweat-slick fingers, was flung away to splash somewhere out of sight. Before he could say a word, while he was still mustering the powers of his billions of compatriots, the Speaker of Dotrae smashed into a stalagmite and crashed heavily into a pool, his black eyes closing slowly as a trickle of blue blood began seeping from a gash in the side of his bald head. Without fuss or even a sound, the trap-door slid shut, the darkness coming with it.

Dol-Druth's roll: 13. He falls headfirst into the submarine cavern. He's knocked unconscious for a little while and his frazzer goes flying somewhere into the water. +1HP Lord Steam, meanwhile, manages to land more elegantly and avoids injury.

Lord Steam finds a secret passage! Right beneath his feet. DC20 Acrobatics roll, please!

Later "I-hoof we think it would be best to call a halt." Dol-Druth panted heavily, slumping against one blessedly-cool wall slick with moisture. The lower levels of the Palace of Poseidon were a maze, one laid out in rigid grids but intersecting in ways and angles that defied the experiences of any mind between the Speaker of Dotrae and Lord Steam. Stairs ran up to levels they had just been, you turned a corner and suddenly no way led back to where you had come. It was all noiseless, smooth and gentle. But deadly. What had seemed like a simple exploratory detour had taken on very different feeling as the ornately-carved murals around them seemed to point in every way to an exit that simply did not exist. In front of them lay the latest dead end. "Our apologies, Sri Lucien, we did not think any maze could defeat our perfect recall." The alien squinted at one of the murals curiously "See here, these carvings, they seem...different. I could have sworn the last ones were more eroded by this saltwater."

GM The effect was instant and incredible. As the little remodeled Porsche flickered underneath the gate, which crashed shut just inches short of the car in a cloud of sand, the compound lit up. Electric-blue light seared through the blackness like a tiny sapphire sun, there was a crackle and a burst of ozone stink. And all along the great walls of the SouTeq compound, the eyes went dead, burnt out from the inside. What could have tracked a mouse through the Great Pyramid of Fexton(tm) and anticipated its movements to the millimeter was now so much scrap. As she sped out across the sands into the deeper desert, Scion could take a little pleasure in doing something easily that would have been impossible just a year ago. Now all she had to do was deliver the package to the client and claim her share. The package in question was pretty small. Only a little larger than a shot glass, enclosed in a magnetically-sealed, pressurized chamber that still fit in one's pocket. Supposedly, it could give you eternal life. The spirits, at a loss of obvious targets, were now bickering as they usually did, the familiar sensation of wrangling emotion just outside her head buzzing as they argued about what they would do if they were a human and had a shot at perpetual youth. It was a long drive to the spaceport.

Though he couldn't see her, Cavalier could feel Hyperslice suddenly tense. "We don't need to ssstun all off them. Jussst need a sssingle enemy." There was a deep, hissing breath. A crunch and crackling hiss as the cloak was destroyed. Then everything happened at once. An explosion of silver light roared into existence around the prisoner, momentarily freezing their captors in shock. In that moment something blurred and flickered, dashing from soldier to soldier, knocking them flat with a lash of a tail or a swat from a powerful arm. In just six seconds all the militia in the area were out cold, the people in sight were starting to point, yell and run, and the silver light had flared into a raging white/black pyre. Out of it, before the eyes of the prisoner, a towering serpent clothed in white crackled into existence. Bringing down their hand in a scything motion that sliced the chains like parting silk, they outstretched the other, silently offering them a chance to escape. 'Please, please mother, let her say "yes"'

"I'll go withh!" Skirris fell eagerly in line behind Sri Sitara, more than keeping up her end of a conversation that didn't seem to have had any beginning and wasn't planned to have an end, the muscular Haasaan darting here, there and everywhere as she took in the sight of a new and glorious orbital habitat. From the chatter it seemed she hadn't had much experience with complexes like this, mostly only planetside establishments and deep-space stations like CoVic. When they arrived at the first stop on their pub crawl to victory, Hyperslice made sure to keep up the pace. In moments she was sliding casually into booths next to beings around half her size, draping inconspicuously across tables and collaring random patrons for rigorous interrogation. Unfortunately, while she did great keeping most of the attention off of Sitara so the Traveler could approach some of the more knowledgeable people in the sink, she couldn't keep focused long enough to actually find out anything. The thirty minutes she spent trying to get the attention of a hulking tower of a Jerreid weren't much help either.

Alrighty, I will do that then.

For February: For reasons beyond their control your PC has been roped into some aspect of Superbachelor/Superbachelorette, or they've started following it thanks to rumors about the shows being covers for illicit activity. Is it? Is it the kind of illicit that needs superheroes to deal with? Will they find true love, and if so how will they justify it to the enraged legions of fans who had figured out their real soul mate fifteen seconds into the first ad campaign. Does the fact that the producer and hostess, reformed Silver Age supervillainess Miranda "Madame" Joy, is using the media empire to bolster business for her nation-wide line of meta-friendly clubs and hotels have a darker side? Does her secret past as a prole in the Terminus have any significance to this circus of love? Will there be a Vignette for Space?

Hyperslice's roll: 4. Hyperslice is not good at talking to people and finding her way to a destination.

The man buzzed. It took a moment to see it came from his antennae rubbing vigorously together, Dol-Druth's great white pile of a face blank with thought. Abruptly the twitching stopped. "We must find out what the attempted takeover cost them and what they intend to do in replacing it. There are several clues to this in my...our eyes: our transport, our host, her efforts in engaging with us and putting us in the mind of a strange but ultimately harmless wonderland. Correct me if...we am...are wrong, Sri Lucien, but we thought they shunned outsiders and thought the surface peoples barbarians for their destruction of this planet's biosphere." Dol-Druth clacked his flat teeth together "Finally, we must ensure these 'ghosts' do not assault us or our fellow dignitaries. If you would assist us tonight, we would be happy to shoulder the harm done your kind by lack of sleep."

Atraxia blinked, belatedly remembering that superheroes did not yet exist. <"...Ah, I am not a...that. I am merely from...a dry, cold climate. Yes, that is why I need this apparatus to keep myself getting soggy, you see?"> This was going to be significantly more difficult than she had expected. Why couldn't she have come down in Shambhala Vale, or Utopia Isle, or Ultima Thule? Somewhere that would have known her for what she was. Well, that would have its own problems... She shoved that thought bodily aside and followed on eagerly. <"Buckingham Palace, you say? Can you guide me there? I can repay you with Moon's blood, what you call silver. I am called Raxia."> Red Moon withdrew a slim but weighty box from her utility belt. Technically it wasn't silver. It wasn't anything. But if he thought it was silver, that's what it would be to him and anyone else who had cause to find out he had it.

<"Greetings, friend. I am indeed a visitor, but from much farther away than Chiné. I am a stranger to this land, could you tell me where I can find your royal family?"> Atraxia knew better than to try and smile. She didn't have half so much flesh as the pillowy, dirty, barrel-like creature she addressed. <"I come from the Court of the Moon, Refuge of life should this Garden wither and its Guardians perish. There is a grave danger I must avert, but I need directions to the palace. If you would point me in the right direction, you will be rewarded."> The smell of blood was everywhere. Red Moon had to fight the urge to hunt it down, she had a job to do and synthetic blood packs pumping into her veins. Unlike the sacred quiet and stark shades of the Moon and Farside City, London was a riot of muddied greens, browns, reds and yellows. A sky thick with smog hung overhead and the din of the city churned all around her, the gruff barks and snarls of English and other Garden dialects buzzed into her audio receptors.

Welcome back, Knight!

That works, but even a warp in gravity has only slender effect and the thing is Entangled. Murk, you are up. For a Full-Round Action you can 'paint' the creature with Murk's Soul sense, making it faintly visible to Salvo and dramatically improving her chances to hit. Also if you like a Knowledge(Arcana) check might reveal some useful information.

<"My brain frying would be the least of my worries, Vortex."> Atraxia forced a bitter, thin smile, before remembering her face was hidden by the helmet <"Time travel is both dangerous and, as well understood, futile for physical efforts. But information, that may prove light enough to carry back. Besides, 1863 is not the Age of Atlantis, I should be able to go there and back.without running into the great maelstrom."> The distant past, before the Cataclysm that destroyed the worlds of the magicians, was a time so distant and dark that even in the ancient days of the Refuge no Farsider had dared to risk travelling there. The summoning and exploitation of uncomprehended intelligences had turned the streams of time into a roiling, deadly sea through which nothing could pass. Even the Master Mages, even the man known as Dr. Tomorrow, none could truly touch those days or breathe that air again. Thousands of years, an eyeblink of cosmic time, but to humanity an epoch of wonders and monsters that drew fascination and greed throughout the timestreams. It was rumored that the descendants of the Atlantean Order of the Seaworn Stair, the wizards who had brought the Nameless Ones to Earth, had found secret ways. But you trusted the word of someone who claimed that extradimensional beings were good for humanity as far as you could evaporate them. For their part, the Farsiders considered Atlantis and Lemuria a bad job best forgotten. A dangerous and false start that had undermined humanity's glorious destiny. Atraxia's mind jumped the tracks back to reality. This was just a hundred and a half years ago. A primitive and barbaric land. A fact-finding job her city depended on her seeing it to the end. <"Give me the coordinates, I will find you your saboteur. This...other. What do we know about them>">

Maybe they can stop her, Thevshi. But who will stop them!?

So, what would the new Freedom League do, exactly?