Ari

Player Name: Arichamus Character Name: Edan Caliburns Power Level: 9 (135/135PP) Trade-Offs: +5 Attack/-5 Damage, +5 Defense/-5 Toughness Unspent Power Points: 0 In Brief: Prosecutor given a dark epiphany by the demon Mens Rea, driven to persecute the guilty to the bounds of law and beyond. Alternate Identity: Law Daemon Identity: Secret Birthplace: Aberdeen, Scotland Occupation: Prosecuting Attorney Affiliations: Cabot, Cunningham & Crowley Family: None living Description: Age: 27 Apparent Age: 27 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian(Scottish) Height: 6' Weight: 160Lbs Eyes: Gray Hair: Auburn Description: A trim ramrod of a man in a deep red suit, Edan regards the world from hooded eyes embedded in a smooth, lean face, moving with long, slow strides through the world, head high and expression cold. In court he sits with his fingers tented, eyes burning. When he speaks his strongly-accented voice cracks and rings through the air, consuming other voices in its path. His right hand is almost always in its coat pocket, his left either gesturing emphatically or flicking back his coarse shoulder-length hair. Power Descriptions: Edan's hellish powers are strictly devoted to the mind, and swaying peoples' wills. When forcing others to reveal their secrets, the tips and palm of his right hand light up with infernal sigils, and when confronting people with their guilt, back of his mouth falls into darkness and spectral glitters flash in his eyes. Turning to Hellish flame is just that, creating a body made of smokeless, heatless Hellfire. History: Edan was once one of Scotland's most famous prosecutors, a remorseless man of the law who relentlessly pursued the guilty. He took on people and cases considered impossible by most, his cold reserve and unflinching persona, combined winning him both respect and fear in the courts of the United Kingdom. A nearly unbroken success record didn't hurt, and he came to grimly enjoy the way his mere name or presence could shake the brave and send people racing for out of court settlements. He also enjoyed the considerable fruits of such victories. Unlike how people thought about him, however, Edan really did care about the truth, about more than just winning. But he valued his judgement and that of the police with regards to who ended up in the defendant's chair too much to give more than a second glance at the facts of each case. It was in a rare trip to America, representing the interests of a wealthy family there, that he underwent his revelation. The family was accusing their old, reliable butler of stealing from them for decades, and neither the old man's protestations or pleas did anything to soften Edan's heart when he noted that the man was entirely unable to account for the missing money(all from a safe known only to the household), yet had no evidence or alibi worth the name. Edan won the trial the next month without once needing to resort to anything but logic and argument, even making the evidence and careful notes he'd accumulated redundant. He saw the old man off as he tearfully began his journey into the prison system, and went peacefully to bed, flush with victory. And the next day, in Pyramid plaza, Mens Rea visited him. The demon, disguised as the case's lead detective, joined him for lunch, showing him the truth: the old man was innocent. His son, the trusted confidante of the old family, was the one who had been stealing from them, and had framed his father to take the fall. To Edan's chilling blood and mounting horror, time slowed to a crawl as the detective spoke on, casually explaining all the times the prosecutor had slipped up or misinterpreted things over the years, showing him the fates of all those he had wrongfully imprisoned without ever knowing it. At last, pale and shaking, the lawyer stood up and fumbled for his phone, desperate to stop what he had inadvertently done. This at least he could fix, this victim he could- "Oh, the old man? Sorry, Mr. Caliburns, he died in custody last night. Heart failure. Thought you should know." In the shifting, half-lit netherland conjured by the demon, the phone fell soundlessly to the inky floor. Edan sank to his knees, numb with shock and mind racing with self-hatred and remorse. He began to cry, helplessly sobbing as the demon watched mildly. Then Mens Rea spoke again. He told the red-suited lawyer about all the people he had justly put away, all the lives he had saved, all the real good he had done. It was exactly as many as he had wronged. Never in all his life did the Scotsman fell such self-loathing as he did under the demon's power. When the Lord of Twisted Memories revealed himself in his 'true' form of Cindy Hane, it was with an offer for a second chance: the demon would grant Edan some of its power, and allow him to KNOW if people were really guilty or innocent. As well, he would have the power to compel their truthfulness, and bring onto them the full weight of their misdeeds. With tears in his eyes, Edan feverishly scribbled his name on the contract that appeared on the table, ignoring the small post-script. The addendum that would allow Mens Rea to control whether or not what he saw was real. Along with his British practice, Edan Caliburns has opened an office in Freedom City in partnership Cabot, Cunningham & Crowley, the fiendish legalists eagerly welcoming another "like them" into the fold. He's made a name for himself in a few modest cases, but he'll arrive on the main stage sooner or later, his hand marked with the devil's bargain he struck and eyes burning with the hope that this time, this time he will be right. Personality & Motivation: Edan is a merciless opponent in court, letting not even the smallest error go unquestioned or hole untouched without thorough questioning. He's cold and stern, never smiling unless he's done quite well, or his opponent quite badly. The smallest detail does not escape him, and he's always minutely attentive to what's going on. Out of court he's solemn but polite, unlikely to raise his voice, and downright comfortable chatting with people he despises. Only the interrogative eye that burns into those he suspects, or the sharpened tone when talking to somebody he distrusts, reveals the seething emotions boiling away inside him. The Law Daemon is devoted to punishing the guilty, and he'll stop at nothing to prove that someone is as guilty as his infernally-gifted eyes reveal. He knows that his powers aren't healthy, or wholesome, or all the words he uses before daring to think 'good', but he hopes that by sparing their use he might save his soul by the good they let him do. After all, to punish the guilty, isn't any tactic justified? Powers & Tactics: Dissect everything, from the smallest contradiction in testimony to the largest discrepancy in facts. Leave nothing to chance, have a trump card ready for a moment's notice. People lie best when calm. Rattle them with sharp words or piercing questions. Use the gifts of Mens Rea only when victory is either hopeless or assured. These gifts, seeing the guilt people carry and what event or deed it relates to, sapping the will and crushing the spirit, or outright overthrowing the minds of his foes, are not something Edan hastily falls back on. They are tools, tools to be used strategically. Complications: Abilities: 0 + 0 + 2 + 8 + 10 + 14 = 34PP Strength: 10 (+0) Dexterity: 10 (+0) Constitution: 14 (+2) Intelligence: 18 (+4) Wisdom: 20 (+5) Charisma: 24 (+7) Combat: 10 + 6 = 16PP Initiative: +0 Attack: +5 Grapple: +5 Defense: +5 (+3 Base, +2 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Knockback: -0 Saving Throws: 4 + 3 + 6 = 13PP Toughness: +4 (+2 Con, +2/+0 Defensive Roll) Fortitude: +6 (+2 Con, +4) Reflex: +3 (+0 Dex, +3) Will: +13 (+7 Wis, +6) Skills: 96R = 24PP Bluff 8 (+15) Diplomacy 8 (+15) Intimidate 13 (+20) Investigation 5 (+10) Gather Information 4 (+8) Knowledge(Civics) 11 (+15) Knowledge(Current Events) +6 (+10) Language 4 (English(Native), French, Gaelic, German, Spanish) Peform(Oratory) 8 (+15) Sense Motive 15 (+20) Notice 10 (+15) Feats: 14PP Benefit 4 (Wealth 2; has an in with the FCPD forensics division; Status: lawyer working with C, C&C) Connected Contacts 2 (Freedom City Police Department, local law firms) Defensive Roll Dodge Bonus 2 Fascinate 3 (Bluff, Diplomacy, Perform) Well-Informed Powers: 22 + 12 = 34PP (All powers have the Infernal and Magic descriptors) Daemon Array 10(20PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power 2)[22PP] Base Power: Emotion Control 9(Extras: Linked(Drain Will); Flaws: Limited(Fear); Feats: Mind Blank, Reversible)[11PP] + Drain Will 9(Extras: Alternate Save(Will), Linked(Emotion Control), Range 2(Perception); Flaws: Distracting, Sense-Dependent(Hearing))[9PP] = 20PP AP: Insubstantial 3(Hellfire, Extras: Selective)[18/20PP] + Super-Movement 1(Slow-Fall)[2/20PP] AP: Mind Control 9(Feats: Mind Link, Subtle)[20PP] Super-Senses 12( Mental: Accurate(+2) Detect Holy(+1); Visual: Acute(+2) Analytical(+2) Detect Guilt(+1), Postcongition(+4))[12PP] Drawbacks: (-0) + (-0) = -0PP DC Block (see below) Totals: Abilities (34) + Combat (16) + Saving Throws (10) + Skills (24) + Feats (14) + Powers (34) - Drawbacks (0) = 135/135 Power Points

GM With a resigned sigh, the lifesnake grudgingly let the ghostly remains of the Serpent's lifeforce slide further up its 'head'. "It does take some...chewing to get rid of the tyranny and fear, but divine power is divine power, no matter what skin-shedding the divinity might do. Helps me keep things vibrant around here if I snatch up the trespassers instead of just blasting them back where they come from. That and I just like sticking it to the cult living in me. Everything they do to weaken me just makes me stronger." A dry amusement crept into its mental voice, and for a flickering moment the lifesnake appeared to share a normal creature's wavering unsteadiness. Regaining its uncanny stillness, the being regarded Nick "So, you know what happened to the child of Yig, and you know why it appeared. If you decide to remove the cult, I can give you a hint of how to find them, as per the standard. They're useful to me, but they are dangerous to my citizens. But if I might give you some advice first, don't attack this close to night."

Alright, so I've left the Roster be for far too long. Now is the time for action. Does anybody have any special requests or suggestions for how their character's entry ought to go? Anything that needs stressing or special mention? I'm revamping how the entires go to make this thing more useable. In the past the simple size and length, while gratifying to write, really hampered keeping things clear and concise. All they need to make plain is who these people are, what they do and who they know. The links to the sheets should take care of questions like 'why are they like that?' and so forth.

The backstory-deathing doesn't "need" to be reduced(unless you decide to become enslaved my squeamishness). Some people kill off entire civilizations in theirs, after all. It just needs explanation, which 'Splice had something set up to keep them from getting caught' answers reasonably well. Thanks for for being so accommodating, souffle_girl. For the actual sheets, you have Splice's Combat section listed as 6 + 6 = 24. To my eyes that's pretty much the only mechanical mistake. I'll leave that to less histrionic sorts.

Ribbons trailing off is more flashy and in a visual medium would allow for stuff like covers where Sun Walker is doing some trick, the ribbons swirling around and showing people and things in the book. Of course, could go either way.

As mentioned in Chat, I think he should have the white, bristly sideburns like the Asian François' Langur. They would add a little starkness and a reminder of his sagacity. Around his ankles and wrists, four narrow bronzy circlets hold ribbons. Currently they just change color with the light, but as time passes they come to hold images of Daniel's friends, foes and feats. A tattoo of the mantra 'OHMMANIPADMEHUM', the words that sealed Monkey in the Buddha's hand, on Sun Walker's back.

Yep. It is a little tricky to make out visually, being silver on silver, but the foreign magic hasn't yet been totally absorbed. It's there all right.

souffle_girl, I must recommend that you rethink the concept of 'deranged man-hating murderess terrorists'. As is, what we've got here are reasonably sound mechanics married to characters that do not at ALL sound like they'd be enjoyable to be in a story with unless you're going for maximum camp. See, I don't know if it's different over in Italy, but in America the real-life feminist movement underwent astoundingly vile slanders and insinuations effectively charging many of its early adherents and activists as crazy, as opposed to the existence of men in entirety, as using the rhetoric of equality under law and in society to advance some sinister design. With all due respect to your freedom to make up whatever you wish, I must protest that this is not a good concept to bring onto the board. Would it be more or less the same to you if Red Venus was just violently misanthropic, a problem exacerbated by her mental problems and not helped by the onset of fire powers? Also, I know they're villains, but that is a LOT of killing to happen in a history section. That much would, in this universe, quickly draw the attention of superheroes and conventional authorities, how'd they manage to lay low this long?

"That can come later, Thoughtspeed." Mind-Set advised, smiling apologetically at their alien visitor "For now, I think we can take things pretty much at face value here. In fact, how about you head to Freedom Hall, let the 'League know about this? You can get there and back in a fraction of the time it'd take the rest of us, and alert the museum, too." Even if the odd fugitive wasn't on the level, Nathan was reasonably sure that, with their various capabilities, they could get things straightened out without any need for violence. Besides, what if the stolen object was somehow dangerous to know about? Holding it on Earth, not to mention an alien...extraterrestrial(the legal terms hadn't really caught up yet), would be bad enough, without the risk of another assault by the Curator looking for something they owned. And anyway, he'd need some kind of confirmation from Rachel before the hefty psychic would even dream of searching the mind of their guest. Just the idea made his illusory face twitch in revulsion. Eyeing the crashed ship, he asked off-hand "Could this be shifted, without any danger, I mean? I think Stronghold and Maelstrom could move it, but just in case..." he glanced at the alien, the ring-bearer and his telekinetic twin in turn. "Sorry I can't really do much here, kinda outside my field of expertise. Don't suppose you need someone to analyze the mental state of your ship's computer?"

Sorry Ecal, really, I keep forgetting this, it's dumb. Proper exposition in a couple hours. EDIT: Ecalsneerg, the runes(and general power surrouding the coffin) are as archaic as the dragon line coursing through it, tapping into primal elemental forces and acting as a conduit to direct them. The generative power it emits is far beyond what the surrouding desert would normally be able to reach, making it both a magnet and source of life. There's a few rumors in the Southwest American tribes that some of their shamans found ways to give up their lives to lend their energy to the world around them by forcing their bodies into the spiritual realm, but nothing even remotely on this level. No single person, no matter how effervescent, could do something like this. trollthumper, Springsvale is lying. More specifically, lying about how useful the summoned creatures are to it.

GM With a few last words the women separated, all thoroughly drained from the rescue of a dying people from the mouth of destruction, and their new settlement on a world in renewal. Many of the newcomers had opted to lie on top of their roofs over sleeping indoors, watching the sky flooded with stars and blazing with a brilliant silver moon, letting themselves be swept up in the reality that, for the first time in all their lives, they lived in peace. The chatter of birds and faint crackling underbrush started in the night now and then, but most of the tribespeople were too tried to wake up more than twice at the unfamiliar sounds. Two by two, nearly twenty thousand eyes closed in faster and deeper sleep than they had ever known. A couple of the very old remained up long after the rest, murmuring speculation and dry observations about their new home. Looking out at the vast fields, the slender forests, and thinking of the people asleep around them in the earthen shelters, they saw a future worth hoping for. Leda dreamed a confused jumble, the businesslike woman already fretting n her sleep over all that needed doing. The animals would need to be treated somehow, in case they had brought something over that might infect their hosts' herds, from what little she'd heard and managed to grasp from the talk of the village leaders the tribes would need to learn how to focus on farming over hunting, and that didn't even begin to match how much water they'd need... But at least now there was more than tomorrow, days stretching off into infinity, and plenty of time to find out hoe they could repay their hosts for the good they'd done. The Atoms slept too, Tesla's mind floating on nucleonic currents within the networks of Dr. Atom's digitized self, the young woman tirelessly unraveling what they would need to do to give the refugees a running start. And out in the woods behind the portal clearing, Robert Baudin crouched over the forgotten body of the Steam General. His eyes silently traced over the marks carved into the desecrated corpse, the silver light giving him more than enough to read what Silex had written on his rival. 'Merci pour vorte aide, M. Baudin!' Below that ran a short sequence of numbers and the terse order 'Signal'. Shuddering, Robert took out a small black disk from his jacket's pocket. With trembling hands, he put in on the body's forehead, watching as thin arms slid out from it to embrace the body beneath. Soon the thing had formed a sleek black cocoon that was warm to the touch, and with a noiseless, odorless 'flash' of darkness, the corpse was consumed. Retracting, the disk resumed its normal appearance, leaving only a thin pile of dust where its occupant had been. A soft red light gleamed in the center, showing a raised ridge of symbols. Numbers, waiting be pressed. A flash of white steel, and the thing sputtered and hissed into useless black wreckage. Digging with his knife, Robert buried the pieces of the device and began limping back to the village, a profound relief welling in his heart, and a smile playing on his lips. "Never again," he whispered "will I pull you out of the fire, boy. You chose to serve death, I've chosen life. And you said we had no future." Passing through the village like a ghost, Robert threw himself onto an unclaimed pile of sheepskins, and drifted off to sleep. END

Stronghold is horngeek's, Rampart is RobRX's.

How minor details, ornamentation, the kind of monkey he looks like, if he's got an aura or something?

"There are so many neutrinos their weight is detectable. That's pretty big news for a particle that's supposed to be near-massless." Nathan shrugged again, mostly for lack of anything more to say, glancing into what could be seen of the fugitive's ship's interior. The alien was being pretty cagey, but that was to be expected when he was surrounded by strangers who probably smelled about as weird to them as they did to the humans. Mind-Set wondered idly if he could fool his own senses into not noticing the aroma their new neighbor emitted, which was something like copper and ammonia mixed in with what could only be stale sweat. Luckily, as he looked over the strange, silvery ship crashed next to him, another problem presented itself. "What should be done about your ship? Want us to get it out for you first, or can that wait?" As if on reflex, Nathan glanced over at his sister "And we can't just take the rock, gotta explain ourselves first."

Sun Walker is best because it has the same initials. Anyway, if you do go with the wordier 'official' name, best to remember that in the native Chinese it's hardly so clumsy. What about, say, the Ape Cosmic, Invincible Sun-Sage?

No, but Equinox does have a chance to hit on the right aspect of mystic wisdom if she matches a DC30!

"We're over a hundred now." *cries inconsolably* Why...why are there so many? Why, God, Why?!

Hail Darksider! Many happy returns of your quarter of the Globe to this part of our Voyage! Here's hoping all is well. Happy birthday.

While discussing bars, and Ecalsneerg was holding forth on how KnightDisciple appearing in a Scottish bar in full Midwestern garb would generate only laughter while he, a Scotsman, could go to any bar and be anointed King

GM Gesturing to the others as he sheathed the sword, Miles gathered the other WYRM wards into a rough circle, and following their green-clad leader's example all of them stretched out their right hands to meet and clasp in the middle. With his free hand, Saboteur gently placed Cho's hand on top of the pile of glittering gemstone, black carapace, scarred glove and lily-white skin. As one, they said "Welcome, Rampart...to the WYRM! With us you shall protect the weak, rescue the prisoner, destroy the evil that corrupts our world and build a new future!" That done, Rampart's new teammates eagerly shook her by the hand, thanking her for joining them. Even Bestia smiled, though a little ironically, while pumping the young mutant's fist. At last the congratulations were over, and it was time for them to return to the base. "This is not a secret, of course," Miles explained, the warm-eyed sniper pausing before heading back into the elevator "tell everyone you think ought to know. We meet once a week every Saturday, alert us through the comm in your WYRM symbol if you get into danger or have news. And Rampart? Thank you." With that he and the rest vanished, heading up into the shining tower that housed them, and the long road back to Claremont ahead of Cho Lee, Freedom's Rampart! END A little later... "She agreed? Doesn't suspect anything?" Saboteur raised his head, every motion filled with respect for the green-eyed woman in second-hand clothes standing in the Coordination Center. The rest of the team were still bowed. "Yes, Teacher Reeves, she thinks we are exactly as we appear to be. And with all the fuss we made she only resisted out of low self-esteem. She is perfect for this mission, Teacher." A hard smile twisted at the corners of the woman's mouth "Very well done, Horus the Avenger," she paused to note the hint of pride in the young man's eye as he heard the name "through you and my other dear disciples, we shall chip away at this city's trust in its lawless, arrogant vigilantes, those liars, killers and friends of prostitutes. They were shaken to the foundation by the Curatordrone betrayal, and now..." With a spring that threw her hair into disarray, Mikaela Reeves leaped onto the table, curling her fingers around the holographic globe as it shrank to fit her hand, her green eyes alight with triumph "...they shall have their last rotten timbers destroyed by I, the Conqueror Worm!"

GM There was a considerable gap between the end of Nick's question, and the lifesnake's answer. In that silence, the light of the Unconquered Sun rained down like a shining torrent, invisible save at the corner of the eye as the fleeting messengers dashed themselves against the ground, shattering into droplets eagerly seized by the formless mass of the forest spirit surrounding the necromancer and town entity. At last the 'head' receded its more complex members, plankton and hypothetical bacteria clustering in their place as the arm of existence bent down to speak. "Thank you. But I am afraid I have not seen the summoners. I think there is a...cabal. In me. They call up these things to test me, tempted with the promise of power. My power." The coil of life twisted a little. "it is nothing I cannot deal with. They must reside within me, and unless they want to draw my attention they'll stick to the small fry." More of the lifesnake descended into the river, leaving a slim fraction of what had first eyed the gathered mages "Besides, the more they summon the stronger I get. Dimensional energies like that sustain me-" Suddenly it paused again, regarding Nick carefully. A sense of unease, like it was walking on a plank over a white river, seeped through the mingled odors of construction, lazy life and monotony. Meanwhile With the barrier behind them there was nothing to stop Equinox and Pitch from heading uphill to the springwater's source, a small lake fed by the water table further uphill. As they approached, both could feel something tingle in the air, and as Pitch's hell-powered motorcycle rounded the final bend, and the water lay before them, the source was plain to see. A crystal coffin lay at the bottom of the clear, swift-flowing lake. it was covered in sigils, none readily decipherable, and looking at it felt like your eye was trying to do push-ups. It was rare that something looked as magical as the coffin did. The sparse trees surrounding the lake bent slightly towards it, as if offering homage. The air above it buzzed with insects and flashing birds, the water teemed with fish, and the soft calls of the living world began to tentatively rejoin their chorus as the infernal engine abated its roar.

GM Unaware of how his words had been been taken, Admiral Kalf nodded brusquely. "Given the overwhelming success, I have no hard feelings about your choices, Star Knight. With the Blue Star back in custody we can find out how it tries to escape, and barring gratuitous extremes like throwing it into a black hole, how to prevent it from doing so. Zanvir and his crew will be that much easier to keep tabs on as he attempts to scavenge parts for his beloved ship, which might be the stroke of luck SysSec has been...praying for all this time. Might get an arrest, even a holder. Time will tell." Hopping up onto a short ledge easily as tall as he was, Kalf removed a glove and offered his hand to Kyle, the fingers underneath gnarled and scarred beneath the thick fur, claws blunted by frequent use long ago. His grip was as small as a child's, but as tough as iron. "It was an honor, Star Knight. May we meet again, and may your example better your race as it overcome its divisions and fears. Now, no other catastrophe has arisen, so if you have some inclination to return home I heartily encourage it. May you see bright stars, Sri Steward." Taking a deep bow, and then tapping the emblem on his chest to take his leave in a whorl of rainbow light, Kalf vanished back to the Blockade Fleet, leaving Kyle on a dazzling splinter in space, with a quiet trip back to Earth and its welcoming Sun.

GM In'Dego snorted, waving a hand dismissively at the arid landscape outside "If I knew who they were, why would I be stumbling around the desert of Andalusia and not just telling somebody? I am not adverse to asking for help, whatever 'Ryder says. I know they are dangerous, they have something to do with my world of Zultas, and they will do...something to try and get to the Night Stone." Corbin's demand that he hand the cosmic artifact over had an instant effect. The man flinched like the words had been a blow. His bony knuckles turned pale blue as they clutched more tightly at the gem hanging from his neck. Wide-eyed and almost trembling, it was only with an effort that the alien drew himself back up into grim resolve. "I...I can't, Cobalt Templar. My father gave this to me. To keep it safe from evil. It's the only thing I have from Home. As soon as I know, I'll go with it wherever you want, go hide in the depths of Sub-Terra, or be vaporized with it. But I will never abandon this, the last true thing of Zultas, untainted by tyranny." "Your cause is, I admit, more just than mine, Templar. But I will never give this up. If you want it out of my hands, you will have to use force, physical or mental, to pry it from them. I won't fight you, and I'm not leaving now I'm so close to my goal, but I have spent too long with this thing, and it means too much, for me to give it up now." During the confrontation, the three Spaniards had slipped away into a nearby hallway, watching with wide eyes.

"Really now? That's an unusual mix. Never would've guessed a paychic could operate at superhuman speeds...but I guess 'impossible' means something a lot different now than at the turn of the century" Mind-Set tossed the faceplate aside, sparing a slight glance of smiling admiration at the oddball super before turning full attention to their alien guest, his mask all business. He couldn't comment on Earth's heroes having beaten the Curator 'a berjillion times'' since that was outside both his knowledge of history and mathematics, and the knowledge that the cosmic collector had an unimaginably enormous fortress of archiving doom somewhere in space was to him one of those bits of trivia that, like the real name of an author or batting averages, was only useful for very specialized situations. Thanks to his rather focused powers, Nathan Colletta was unlikely to ever have to use that bit of data, or be thankful it was known. What he could comment on was the small matter of aiding an extrasolar criminal. Even if stealing from robots wasn't a frequent crime on Earth, it was still something to be carefully deliberated over. While his relaxed, almost folksy cadence and tone didn't change, a hint of anxiety and steel crept into his voice "Well star buddy-by the way, you got a name we can use?-I'm a little worried about that answer. While it does explain everything, why the robots fought to the death, why they'd chase you so hard, and so on, it kinda also makes me wonder what exactly it was you stole. I mean, if it was something worth risking that kind of danger for..." he shrugged his illusion-enhanced shoulders, the glamored guardian added more kindly "So long as it's not ultra-dangerous, I bet the Freedom League would be happy to get you on your way, they go into space and stuff all the time. Even got a space-station. Why'd you decide to take from the Curator, of all things? Just that much a daredevil?"