Quinn

Farrah deflated at those words. No, I mean literally, she actually deflated. Just let out a massive rush of air, shrinking a hair further - she was still a statuesque stunner (if slightly leaning more to poundage than most), mind, though the biggest problem was the only thing protecting her modesty was an outfit that wouldn't have looked out of place on a belly dancer. At Lynn's question, though, she nodded; doing a little funny finger-flicking, and tweaking her nose - with a snap, crackle, and pop suddenly she was dressed in...well, the Hawaiian shirt was back; along with the khaki shorts. She lacked the camera and palm-tree sunglasses, at least. "Ta-daaa! Mysterious Tourist Farrah, not to be confused with Sexy Dancer Farrah, Beach Bunny Farrah, or Stage Magician Farrah!" Small Barbie-sized figures popped up on Lynn's desk with each line, each posing dramatically in appropriate outfits to the title. "Honestly, they totally stole that concept from me. Wanted to curse them, but he was all noooooo." She conferred, in a stage whisper - looking at the tiny figures as they nodded in concurrence; striking fresh poses. The spirit stopped briefly, as the Hawaiian design on her shirt literally featured a young man surfing, and falling off the wave into the water. Repeatedly. A brief look up and down of Lynn's outfit, and a thoughtful head-tilt. "My dear, you must let me at those uniforms of yours."

Another massive HONK as Farrah blew into the (now quite sodden) hanky - staring at Grimalkin like she'd grown a second head. "I...you..." Her lower lip wobbled again, a massive wobbling, a terrifying wobbling, a wobbling that would cause even the hardest of hearts (Hi Gretchen) to break down into tears of sadness and despair. Even Morgan was feeling misty-eyed, and he was sitting there nursing a concussion. Stupid mortal body. Mental note, get some kind of Crow-helmet. Or armor the hood. Or wear the hood. Hindsight. Again, the massive genie engulfed Lynn in a hug that probably would have caused minor spinal damage, had it been anyone else. Except this time, the tears were flowing from equal parts joy and kindness, rather than sadness. "YOU OFFER ME HOSPITALITY OF YOUR OWN FREE WILL! SUCH GENEROSITY! SUCH KINDNESS! FOR THIS, I WILL SHOW YOU WITH THANKS, GIFTS, BLESSINGS, AND YOUR CHILDREN, AND YOUR CHILDREN'S CHILDREN, AND YOUR-" And on and on she went, seemingly growing in size as she filled half the room - thunder-claps accompanying her words...right up until she seemed to blink. Then shrink. To a far more modest proportion. "...ERR, IF YOU HAVE THOSE." Long pause. "DO YOU HAVE THOSE? I CAN HELP WITH THAT, IF YOU NEED IT! I KNOW THIS WONDERFUL GENIE FROM BAGHDAD WHO WAS SINGLE A FEW HUNDRED YEARS AGO! I COULD RING HIM UP!" Ladies and gentlemen, Farrah when she was HALPING. Gods have mercy on you, Grimmy.

...aw, hell. Crow, as a rule, liked animals. Dogs, cats, even some birds. He'd let a whole host of rooks take roost above his turret room at Parkhurst, and he'd actually been working on familiar bindings - bird spies and friends? Yes, please. Crow, as a rule, did not like Hedge animals. They tended to be large. And mean. And hungry. And prone to trying to eat him - moreso if they were abused by the denizens of the gaps between the world; the servants of the Tuatha, the Fae, and their ilk did not treat animals terribly well. Especially their hunting beasts. Without a shift in his expression, he whipped his arm forward - a small stone shooting between Cannonade and Grim, impacting on the ground in the middle of the attacking dogs. Black, thick, choking smoke just burst around it, engulfing the blood-soaked monsters, and he vanished from view - landing in a careful balance atop a tree branch high above the melee. The mask lit the outlines of the faerie dogs in red, Grim's and his allies in blue; Talons popping into existence between his knuckles, and wire around his wrists. This was going to be trouble.

Okay! My keyboard is kerfracked (to the point my question marks come out as É), so I`m going to do a proper IC post at home; for now, though. Crow will deploy a Smoke Bomb (Obscure 2 (visual, 10' radius; Feats: Independent) [4EP]) into the middle of the dogs, and promptly vanish up into the tree boughs - with intent to force the dogs to scatter or get caught by surprise by our attacks. Dance, puppets, dance!

There was a mighty HONK as the blubbering genie blew hard enough to kick up a small windstorm; sending the papers on Lynn's desk flying, and blowing her hair clear up off her head. A smaller sniffle, and the mighty smoke-elemental settled on her...well, brimstone? Everything below her waistline was colorful smoke, curling down towards the metal safe (which, incidentally, now looked a tiny bit worse for wear). "I-I am Farrah, Farrah of Iram. Well, formerly of Iram, and before you say anything, no, I don't know where it is now." HONK. She managed to compose herself - enough that her bombast seemed to disappear some what; in favor of a more morose recounting. Thankfully, it wasn't anything Lynn hadn't heard before. As Ira's predelictions towards the ladies was already a well-known fact, it didn't come as a surprise to hear that he'd encountered Farrah during an expedition into the subcontinent. She'd been in the hands for many years of a somewhat idiotic crime boss, who had used her to slowly fill up his coffers, converting lead to gold. It had been tremendously boring. Then, in blows the suave and charming Ira Silberman! A man of the world, a man of affairs, with magic in his fingers (yes, she blushed when she said that), and a great deal of cunning. He'd taken out the crime boss, and invited Farrah to see the world with him for a while. Being that she'd been stuck in the subcontinent in the damned Calcutta slums since the days of the Raj, she was happy to go and see the modern world. Packed her bags, shoved herself into a hawaiian shirt and swimming trunks, flip-flops - a few moments after she explained her fashion choices, the tackiest American tourist imaginable was sitting in Lynn's office. Complete with palm tree sunglasses. Right, back to the story - Ira'd been so sweet, just a whirlwind romance as she got to see Tokyo, Los Angeles, New York, London...with a genie helping him along, Ira was overjoyed to find travel arrangements far less strenuous than before. She'd even helped him in the background of a few adventures - though nothing really overt. Eventually, though, she got to when he settled down here. "I-it was...I forget what year - but...th-this one witch he'd charmed. He'd said it was over a long time ago, b-but-" Sniff. Her face started to crumple again. "...a-all I remember is meeting this...this lady in red, out in St. Petersburg. I was taking another continental tour. And then...next thing I know, she is..." She struggled to find words, but apparently the next thing she was doing was flying screaming over the Pacific, breaking through a wall - "that wall, to be specific" - she pointed at the one behind Lynn's desk - and trying to throttle Silberman for his infidelity. All rage. All smoke and fury. She wasn't herself, because if she was she wouldn't have tried to kill the man - she'd have been more inventive! More entertaining! Turning him into some kind of - of, snake or frog or something, and watching him hop about in outrage for a while. Farrah had had many years to ponder what she'd really have done. Ultimately, her rage snookered her - and Ira had tricked her into the safe's trap. Originally for thieves, with a quick tweak able to act as an emergency genie lamp. He'd promised to find a way to break the enchantment, and she'd been locked away in limbo ever since. She'd actually broken it herself after around twenty or so years; but nobody ever opened her up. She'd assumed by that point Ira had forgotten about her - and wasn't that a crushing acknowledgement. The waterworks started again shortly after she said that - Lynn's carpet now somewhat damp.

1d20+8: 26 [1d20=18] - http://orokos.com/roll/477470 Hey, I`ll take it! Crow at 18.

A small - very small, but surprisingly genuine - smile creased his face below the black mask. On a normal person, it might have been amiable. On him, it was a mix of reassuring and evil. Seriously, Cowls were not meant to smile in costume. That was not a thing. "...didn't bypass. Just cheated." A low rumble of a chuckle from him. "Walked through walls." To her offer, then, he shook his head. "Stress-test what Crowe builds, sometimes. Better to make me work for it. And deflate his ego." The smile vanished, replaced with a tiny smirk. "He'll provide anti-intangibility runes, free of charge." His shoulders pushed off the wall. "...and yes. Contacted Blodeuwedd." Huh. Crow pronounced it properly too - though his had a slight brogue. Irish? "She'll be here presently."

Crow Troid an Fomhoraigh (1) The Dog Park Will Not Harm You (4) Ultimate Cosmic Power, Itty-Bitty Living Space (1) Outlaw Rock, Meet Paper (4) GM Peace On Earth, And Mercy Mild (1) The Ben Hur Invitational: Five Stars (1) Ultimate Cosmic Power, Itty Bitty Living Space (3) Credit GM Posts to Outlaw, please!

"She's not wrong." A calm, rasping voice from behind them - surprising. Just one moment they were alone - albeit with a slight breeze in the room - the next, a black-clad figure with a mask and a beaked hood stepped out from a shadowed corner. Smoke curled up from a glowing rune on his shoulder - similar shapes and whorls in silver thread going up and down the lining, and around the edge of the hood. Crow made a mental note, work on some form of bypassing teleport wards. Impolite, yes, but come on - one had to value a proper intimidating entrance. And having to twiddle one from a rune of wind-walking to a rune of becoming wind was troublesome. Never knew if bits of yourself might blow away. "...the Tuatha exemplify the same human flaws and frailties of the Greek gods, combined with the arrogance and inhumanity of the Fair Folk. Paradoxical, but very little of deific figures tends to make sense." Crow quietly walked around the table, leaning against the wall beside the door. "...unlike the Formorians, however, they lean towards the benevolent more than the despotic. Enough that it's in our best interests to help them." A nod to them both. "Up to speed. Heard about the book outside - young lady with black hair taking a pudding cup mentioned it to a co-worker. Something's up, and Mor-Rioghain doesn't like it." Grimace. "...Morgan sends his regards, by the way."

It was ease itself for Miracle Girl to seize the falling phone booth - the elderly lady inside going from screaming to trying to reach out and give the dear heroine a hug and promising all manner of cookies, brownies, and assorted baked goods in thanks for not letting her turn into a pile of squishy bits on the sandy floor below. Perks of heroism, eh? Still, she could hear the cars receding into the distance... In the meantime, the deft maneuvering of ACE DANGER! brought him right in front of the manic-driving Ferrari - the oil slick deploying with a cheerful "Oil Slick Deployed" (because naturally the Dangermobile had to have a sultry voice speak whenever a gadget was used, right?). Still, even with the cunning maneuver, the man behind the cherry-red car was no dope. He swerved sideways, ramping off a food stand and landing beside ACE DANGER!'s car, the hero spying the driver sending him quite a rude hand gesture as he struggled to shift in front of him! Thoughtspeed, on the other hand, had a whole other load of problems. The Lamborghini driver was in no way a nice one either; first having swerved to take out a little old lady in a phonebooth, now they swung the back end of their car out as they hit a corner; a hand sticking out the window with a heavy pistol in hand. BLAM, BLAM! Two shots rang out - impacting the back tank of a fry truck - spilling oil all over the ground right in front of the speeding hero!

1d20+10: 30 [1d20=20] - http://orokos.com/roll/471865 Ferrari Driver sez NOPE. Durf! Opposed Drive Check to remain in front of him! Ferrari Driver: 1d20+10: 27 [1d20=17] http://orokos.com/roll/471868 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Miracle Girl! You have successfully pulled up the grandmother, who is terrified! I will post accordingly, then you can do something else! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thoughtspeed! You have a problem! DC 15 Acrobatics check to avoid an Oil Slick!

The black-coated bird of prey followed behind Cannonade, matte-black knives remaining in his hands. His whole frame was tensed, ready to react at the drop of a hat; leaping either to the offensive or the defensive, the second something came out of the hedge. The feel of cold iron between his fingers was a relief, in a way, even if this place likely would rebel against it. Morgan's relationship with the world of his parents was complicated. "...shame. Hate dealing with fair folk on their own turf. Usually involves a game. Or illusions. Or cheap tricks." Slight sniff. "...I use expensive tricks. Big difference."

Gabriel could say that again. Morgan cycled through the myriad of emotions that a doorway to the hedge, the realm of the Fair Folk, popping up in Parkside evoked in him. None of them were terribly pleasant, so he didn't dwell on them. Instead, a figure in a black coat just came into being beside the hero of God, the scent of cold iron shavings coming from a bag in his left hand, with his right filled with a gleaming throwing knife. "...burn it?" He rasped with a clipped tone, staring at the hedge. "...could call in backup. Seal it off."

Ah, I was going to ask for one, but honestly with Miracle Girl's Super-Strength one isn't really needed. Go ahead and post accordingly; Durf, if you don't explain what that oil slick does by the end of the weekend, we'll just chalk it up as scenery dressing and I'll put some more challenges up.

8:30 PM City Center Freedom City U.S.A If there was one holiday the denizens of Freedom City loved more than Halloween (hero/heroine costumes!), it was Christmas! The downtown area had for weeks been slowly massing it's festive atmosphere, bunting and holly hanging from every storefront and lamppost, giant Santas and reindeer and elves hanging hither and yon, mistletoe in convenient places, blinking red/blue/green lights here there and everywhere. The snowstorm had slowed the roll more than a little, but after it's disappearance... It was like...cake icing. Fresh powder, white as can be, draped over everything; the colors of some lights shining through, the icicles hanging from the power lines reflecting and gleaming and turning the whole of downtown into a sight to behold. Was it any surprise that some store owners decided to make a day of it? It had just happened organically, if you pressed a bystander. One moment a stall had been opened on the sidewalk. Then two more. Then three more. Then a dozen. Then they were up and down the streets. Cars slowed, then stopped, then parked (illegally). Someone had brought out music players, or blocked doors open and let the department store carols burst out. Office workers found themselves taking their dinner breaks early, then not going back. There were skee ball stands, bottle toss booths, a whole carnival midway had cropped up with 'borrowed' materials from other stores. An inspector from City Hall had even shown up, and gotten handed a mug of eggnog. Apparently there was provisions for 'acts of holiday cheer' in the FC lawbooks. The fact that a trio of police were seen scurrying along towards a makeshift sled hill in a parking garage, all carrying toboggans, clearly had nothing to do with that. So that was the scene, when a hero or three arrived. Four blocks of the City Center, turned into one of the biggest Christmas block parties the City of Heroes had ever seen! Frank Sinatra was crooning carols on the breeze, there was eggnog everywhere you looked, and holly wreaths with Christmas lights lining more than a few romantic holiday walks. It was as if the world was making merry, and all were welcome to join in.