GranspearZX

Arc doesn't see it, but Warp does: as the figure was running, he dropped a small yellow cube, about 2 inches on either side.

Ah! Before I forget, I need a Notice roll [DC15]!

GM The figure whirled around and scowled at the pair, staff held at the ready. "You RUINED my experiment!" He was barely over five feet tall, his face obscured by the hood of the green cloak he was wearing and the odd-looking goggles he was wearing. He didn't seem to be much older than Warp; he stick his tongue out and swung at the air behind him, the crystal-tipped staff seeming to tear a hole in space itself. "Jerks!" Without a moment of hesitation, he jumped through the ragged-looking portal that snapped shut moments after he was gone.

"Genetic... okay." Arcturus couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. It took him years to cope with the Beast Rune fully. He had a lot of support, though; he could only hope the tigerman had the same. What worried him more was the transponders that were supposedly on them; while Elias disarmed the woman, Arcturus searched the other guy. The last thing Arc wanted was for this guy to be tracked. He was a victim, after all. "I wanna know who she works for. Wonder if I can make her tell." Arcturus straightened up a little bit. In his bear form, he was over eight feet tall and kicked a car over like it weighed nothing. The implications were obvious. He cracked his knuckles and flashed a sharp-toothed grin, looming over the mercenary. "I won't even get mad over the 'furry' comment."

The outburst surprised Marcus. It took him a second to realize that it was her thoughts. If anything, he was more worried about the way Elias recoiled, pulling away from him and landing flat on his behind. "Hey, are you alright?" The blank stare didn't help, and he interposed himself between Elias and the woman so that he'd focus on him instead. The whole situation made him nervous--a mentally adept mercenary, and a bestial test subject. It all seemed way more familiar than the shapeshifting magic-user would have liked. He had to concentrate, though, both for his sake and Elias's. Never mind the car; he was in control now, and he allowed himself to return to his bear form, confident that the blinding rage wasn't going to force the Beast Rune to escalate things further. He held out a hand to Elias to help him up. "Nothing about who she works for, huh. That's okay... We ought to do something with these two. Drop 'em off at the nearest police station, maybe?" This was new to him. He was far too used to dealing with threats that the police weren't equipped to deal with--extradimentional dream-eaters, demons... that was easy compared to how awkward this felt. "If nothing else, we should get this guy some help. Who knows what they did to him... Maybe it can be reversed."

With the elemental gone, Arcturus's first instinct was to focus on the destruction it had caused. He'd nearly forgotten his theory on its summoner until a disappointed yell broke through the pouring rain. He looked up and spotted the figure atop a two-story building, and he immediately reacted. "Hey! Stop!!" For the moment, he forgot Warp was laughing at his magical mishap. Instead, he started running. Magical energy welled inside the Beast Rune on the back of his shoulder and he leaped into the air, managing to catch the edge of the building without slipping and pulling his way up, pretty certain that Warp would have no trouble following to continue the pursuit.

GM Another bolt ripped through the elemental, and its form buzzed with active, rapidly dispersing electricity. "NOOOOOOO~!" The sound rang out through the intersection as the lightning elemental exploded into several hundred motes of light, vanishing into the air as if it weren't there at all. The scream, however, didn't come from the creature--rather, it emanated from a rooftop near one of the buildings adjacent tot he nearby street. A short figure in a green hood could be seen quickly turning away from the scene, trying to disappear amidst the heavy rain.

Benjamin Noble was a touchy subject among the Noble family. He and Clark were identical twins, but they couldn't have been more different. Ben had developed a crippling gambling addiction, among other things, and he owed a lot of important underworld figures a lot of money. They were always on the look out for 'Lucky Ben', who was as far from it as one could come. Clark refused outright to feel sorry for him; after their last face-to-face encounter, Clark punched him in the face for having the gall to blame all his problems on their father's disappearance during the evacuations during the Terminus invasion. Clark knew better. It was the Crusader himself who put them all out of harm's way before going back in to fight the Omegadrones. Take care of your family, kid. Those weren't the words of some random caped hero as Ben thought--Clark had known the truth about his father for a long, long time. "He's... actually doing better." Charlotte's voice jolted Clark back into the present. "I went to see him this morning at a rehab center in Midtown." "Rehab again, huh?" Clark didn't bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, despite his sister-in-law's disapproving stare. "Clark, don't be like that. He really is sticking with it this time. For God's sake, he IS still your brother. It's not his fault; he's not like you." "What's that supposed to mean? Oh wait. 'Musclehead'. Right." Clark couldn't help but frown, brow furrowed at the implication that he'd left his brother twisting in the wind. In a way, though, it was true that he had. Crusader, however, had pulled Benjamin Noble out of dozens of fires, often when he wasn't even aware that he was being burned. As much trouble as Ben was to Clark sometimes, Ben was alive largely because of Crusader's influence... not that he could tell her that. "No no, I mean... He's been running from something. Ever since we met, I've always felt like that. Maybe he's finally ready to face it, but you... You've never been that way. I think he envies you. You two really should talk more. And maybe you shouldn't break his nose when you do." Clark didn't have a witty response for that one. He couldn't even look her in the eye for a minute after that. Something did catch his eye, though, and he looked up to see Regina, his younger sister, standing at the back door. "I'm... not interrupting am I?"

"...you still call me 'musclehead'. How cute." Clark sighed, patting his mother on the shoulder--who found the entire scene all sorts of amusing. He followed Charlotte intot he kitchen, taking in the wonderful smells before taking a look around. "Wasn't Gina in here with you?" "She got a phone call, stepped outside. Sounded like one of those 'official World Health Organization' things. And why are you encouraging my son to be a brainless musclehead like you?" "H-hey!" Clark clutched at his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know I worked damn hard to refine my level of muscleheadedness. It's practically a national treasure at this point." "Oh, shut up." Charlotte finally cracked a smile, pulling open the oven for a moment and checking on its contents before closing it again. "I just worry about him. I think he might've gotten in his head that he's going to fight all those thugs that used to call and ask about Ben all the time..." "Really?" Clark rubbed at the back of his neck, smiling nervously. "Can't imagine where he'd get an idea like that..." "Probably those comic books you keep buying him. And all the heroes in the city... It's not exactly a career path, you know?" Better than you think... Clark nodded. "He's a good kid though, and his grades have always been good, right? With enough training, he could get a scholarship anywhere in the country, academic OR athletic. He'll be fine." "Hm. Maybe... I don't think he realizes that I've heard some of the songs he writes when he's bored..." There was a long, awkward pause, and a question that Clark knew he had to ask. "So... have you seen Ben?"

"Merry Christmas to you too, rugrat." Clark backed up to his mother's laughter as he proceeded to tie his nephew in knots, wrestling the 14-year old to the floor. It was never a good idea to assault someone who coached multiple high school sports, including wrestling. Every year, Casey tried it, and every year he lost. This year, he noticed that the teenager was a whole lot stronger; for a brief moment, he actually had to get serious before sitting on his back. "You've been practicing." Clark chuckled and let his nephew up, who gave him a playful shove. "Yep. And I start at FDR next year, too, so..." "Is that right? You trying out for anything?" "You know how much I hate contact sports," a voice called from the kitchen. Charlotte stood there shaking her head, and Casey's face fell. "Pick ONE and we'll see." Clark gave his nephew a light shove back. "Well, you heard your mother. Whatever you decide, let me know, hm?" "Alright, alright..." Casey huffed and brushed himself off, jabbing his uncle in the ribs with an elbow before escaping Clark's reach, headed into the upstairs bedrooms. Charlotte and his nieces and nephew had all been living with his mother, at his mother's insistence. Given their situation with his brother, it was likely the safest thing. Carla had no qualms about grabbing a shotgun and shooting some mobbed-up idiot trying to break in looking for Ben over his gambling debts. "Merry Christmas, Charlotte." Charlotte's expression was rather deadpan as Clark flashed as charming a smile as he could manage. "...you too, musclehead."

"Merry Christmas, mom." Christmas is for kids. That's what Carla Noble, Clark's mother, often said. What she'd meant, though, was that all the lights and presents were for the kids. The adults tended to value spending time with family much more... and though the Noble family was small, Clark was right here every year at his mother's place in Ashton. Despite being in her upper 60s, Clark's mother was a sharp-witted woman, surprisingly active and insisted on cooking every year as if she was feeding an army. This year, at least, she had help--his sister Regina, and his sister-in-law, Charlotte. He leaned down to kiss his mother on the forehead while she sat in her chair, barely able to get that out before his nephew jumped on his back. "Ah! No attacking the old guy!" "Merry Christmas, Uncle Clark!"

Fort Save: FORT check [DC17]: (1d10+7=16) And TOU save (which I believe is now bottomed out at -5 from 2 -7 drains and a -2 Bruised penalty): TOU check [DC17]: (1d20-5=11) So it's now Bruised (x3) and Stunned again. Arc's up next.

"That's NOT funny!" To say that Arcturus was embarrassed was an understatement. It nearly got him blasted; he ducked and rolled out of the way, the irritation worn on his entire being at this point. Someone had summoned this thing and set it loose in the city, and now he was getting laughed at by someone he'd just met. As mentally exhausting as it was, he straightened up and tried again. This time, however, the magic he attempted to wield seemed more cooperative. The ground at Arcturus's feet froze as the water in the air formed a dozen or so shards of ice, shooting through the air with an ominous whistle. The ice magic ripped through the elemental and sent it writing backward, clearly damaged and slightly shrinking its form from the bled-off energy.

GM The elemental seemed more active now that the two assaulting it were perceived as a very real threat. It seemed to resist the negative effect of the energy that passed through it, and it fired a bolt of electrical energy back at the pair--specifically Arcturus, who seemed to be having problems of his own. The lightning bolt struck a street lamp on the corner, sending it crashing to the ground. Somehow, the rain slightly letting up into a steady drizzle was barely noticed,

GM "...I think I'll manage." Trigger reached into his pocket, producing a small lighter. Flicking it back and forth, he stepped into the elevator, letting it close behind him. Its descent was rather smooth, despite the rumbling coming from below. "This isn't a death trap. At least, it's not supposed to be. But things happen." Reaching into the folds of his jacket, he produced what looked like a rebreather and a pair of goggles. He very calmly put both on, and as the doors opened, it was apparent why. The heat was outright oppressive--nearly 20 degrees higher than it had been upstairs. The corridor beyond wasn't a hallway; it looked more like a cavern. There was no telling how far down they'd gone, but apparently it was far enough that it tapped into something else... a thermal pocket, perhaps? There really was no way for anyone with normal senses to be sure. The most disturbing aspect, though, was the screams. That was really the only thing that gave Trigger pause. The cavern curved and the clearly painful, vaguely human cries didn't stop... nor did the dimensional disturbance coming from the same direction.

An OOC thread for the similarly-titled IC thread. Participants: TheAbsurdist [Errant] Scuffles [Glow] Freely_Seek [Warp] GranspearZX [Arcturus] Arichamus [El Heraldo]

It does, in fact, hit. And elementals ARE living creatures, so... That said, Fort and TOU saves are in order: Fortitude Check [DC17]: (1d20+6=17) TOU Check [DC17]: (1d20+2=22) (Forgot the -1 from the Bruise. But still...) It actually resists the drain AND the damage. Hoo. ^^ Marcus concentrates, and attempts to use his magic one more time (since he still has the power active from last round): Will Check [DC19]: (1d20+12=25) Success! Ranged Attack roll (Blast 9, Accurate): (1d20+11=21) And a toughness check for the elemental: TOU check [DC19]: (1d20+2=15) And again, I forgot the -1 from the bruise. FFFFFFFFFFFFF... But, having failed the check by 5, the elemental is stunned and takes another bruise. IC post forthcoming!

Shadowboxer (Crusader V, CrusaderNoir) [floatr][/floatr] Player Name: GranspearZX Character Name: Shadowboxer Power Level: 8 (120PP) Trade-Offs: --- Unspent Power Points: 0 Progress To Bronze Status: 0/30 In Brief: Prizefighter turned vigilante. Alternate Identity: Andrew Theodore Cartwright Identity: Secret Birthplace: Chicago, IL Occupation: Former boxer Affiliations: None Family: Susan Quinn (mother), Richard Cartwright (father) Description: Age: 28 Apparent Age: 28 Gender: Male Ethnicity: British, Irish Height: 6' 3" Weight: 200 lbs. Eyes: Amber Hair: Black In costume, Shadowboxer wears a faceless black mask, through which he seems to be able to see normally. He wears a black suit with a red tie, and can often be seen wearing a worn red scarf as well. Power Descriptions: Andrew is a normal human with no known superpowers. He does possess a sense of combat awareness that almost seems to border on the precognitive; in his eyes, combat seems a touch slower and makes maneuvering, attacking, and defending much easier. History: It seemed like fighting was all Andrew ever knew. Growing up in a low-class Chicago neighborhood, it wasn't difficult for Andrew to get into constant trouble. Though he never ran afoul of the law and he never really did anything truly illegal, he ran with a troubled crowd and got into his share of fights as a youth. Discontent with the way his life was going, he left home at 15 to seek his fortunes elsewhere. He never expected to be drawn into Freedom City's mafia underworld, and his introduction to it was purely accidental. Working as an errand boy near the docks two years later, he broke up a fight between two mafia bruisers, ultimately knocking out both. Impressed with his showing, the mafia boss, Anton Mazziari, took Andrew in. His name grew synonymous with fighting when, at 19, he began fighting in a professional capacity. Over the next five years, in addition to being a Mazziari enforcer, his public persona was that of an incredibly accomplished and talented boxer, easily in line to be a champion in his own right. Many in the Mazziari family were jealous of his success, and sought to take Andrew down; when repeated attempts failed, they resorted to rigging one of his fights. Using a drug that would enhance a person's physical ability, they drugged the then reigning champion before a match with Andrew, in hopes that Andrew would be utterly destroyed. Instead, the match went on for a full ten rounds, and the champion ultimately died from a combination of his injuries and cardiac arrest from the drug. Until that point, Andrew had never been directly responsible for anyone's death. Though an investigation cleared his name, he felt guilty, and swore never to enter the ring again. However, he was consumed by a deep-seated anger at being framed, disappearing from public life altogether. Instead, he plotted to take out the Mazziari family and rid the streets of mafia influence altogether. Personality & Motivation: Ultimately, Andrew wants to rid the streets of the mafia that tried to ruin his life. He tries not to allow his hatred of organized crime to cloud his daily life. Normally he's as laid back and jovial as he always was, even when recognized as a former prizefighter. He doesn't really like answering questions about himself, and generally steers conversation away from himself and towards his volunteer work at a local church instead. Powers & Tactics: Andrew punches things. And he does it well. While not quite superhuman, his combat reflexes are uncanny; in his mind, everything slows down when his adrenaline is heightened. In reality, he displays a very low-level form of precognitive ability that allows him to react a little more quickly than the average human, often seeing and sensing an opponent's movements before they actually occur. Complications: Fame: Andrew Cartwright still gets recognized on the street as a former prizefighter. Guilty Conscience: Despite the details of what actually happened, Andrew can never shake the feeling of being responsible for the man he thought he'd killed. Hatred: Andrew has occasions where his hatred of the mafia and what they did to him can be all-consuming, leading him to take risks he otherwise might not take. Moving Target: Andrew still has plenty of enemies among the Mazziari family that wouldn't mind seeing him severely hurt or worse. Responsibility: Andrew is married, and has a son to look after. Abilities: 4 + 4 + 8 + 0 + 2 + 2 = 20PP STR 14 (+2) DEX 14 (+2) CON 18 (+4) INT 10 (+0) WIS 12 (+1) CHA 12 (+1) Combat: 6 + 4 = 10PP Initiative: +6 Attack: +6 (+8 melee) Grapple: +11 Defense: +8 (+5, +3 Combat Precognition) Knockback: -4 Saving Throws: 5 + 4 + 5 = 14PP Toughness: +8 (+4 Con, +2 Protection, +2 Defensive Roll) Fortitude: +9 (+4 Con, +5) Reflex: +6 (+2 Dex, +4) Will: +6 (+1 Wis, +5) Skills: 68R = 17PP Acrobatics 5 (+7) Bluff 6 (+7) Climb 2 (+4) Diplomacy 2 (+3) Drive 4 (+6) Escape Artist 2 (+4) Gather Information 4 (+5) Intimidate 4 (+5) Investigate 7 (+7) Knowledge (popular culture) 6 (+6) Knowledge (streetwise) 6 (+6) Notice 6 (+7) Search 5 (+5) Sense Motive 4 (+5) Stealth 3 (+5) Survival 2 (+3) Feats: 41PP Accurate Attack All-Out Attack Assessment Attack Focus (melee) 2 Attack Specialization (unarmed) 3 Blind-Fight Catch Attack (Unarmed attacks) Cunning Fighter Defensive ATtack Defensive Roll 2 Defensive Strike Dodge Focus 3 Elusive Target Evasion Follow-Up Strike Grappling Block Improved Critical 2 (Unarmed) Improved Grab Improved Initiative Improved Pin Improved Trip Last Stand Lionheart Monkey Climber Power Attack Prone Fighting Quick Change Second Chance (TOU saves vs. Unarmed) Seize Initiative Stunning Attack Takedown Attack 2 Ultimate Effort (Will) Veteran Fighter Powers: 12 + 2 + 2 + 2 = 18PP Enhanced Trait 12 (Attack +3, Defense +3) (combat precognition) [12PP] Leaping 2 (x5; running long jump: 60 ft.) (training) [2PP] AP: Speed 2 (25 mph; 220 ft./rnd) [2PP] Protection 2 [2PP] Super-Strength 1 (Heavy Load: 350 lbs.) [2PP] Abilities 20 + Skills 17 (68 ranks) + Feats 41 + Powers 18 + Combat 10 + Saves 14 + Drawbacks 0 = 120/120 Power Points DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Melee DC17 TOU (Staged) Damage (Physical)

There were several men who carried the mantle of Crusader before Clark Noble: Crusader IX Crusader VIII Crusader VII Crusader VI Crusader V :: Andrew T. Cartwright, "Shadowboxer" Crusader IV Crusader III Crusader II Crusader I

All things psychic were lost on Marcus. It was his fault, really, for being so skittish around those with psychic ability and not having the good sense to shield his own mind, as he had with the pendant his mother had left him. Still, he was trying to get over the irrationality of it all, especially in his current situation. The best he could do, at the moment was watch Elias do what he did best while serving as his crutch, making sure he could at least concentrate and not fall over. "Talent or no, she did try to shoot me. In the face." It wasn't the first time he'd been shot in the face either. He'd take darts over being pepper sprayed any day.

== Round 2 == 16 :: Lightning Elemental -- Drain TOU [-7]; Bruised x1 12 :: Warp [1HP] -- Unharmed 11 :: Arcturus [1HP] -- Unharmed The lightning elemental, attracted by the attempt at magic, attacks Arcturus: Ranged Attack (Blast 10): (1d20+10=19) Which narrowly misses. Warp's turn!

"Well unless your home is an elemental plane... Endless sky and clouds. Or so I hear." He was in no position to judge anything, but seeing Kat's powers at work did in fact make him take notice. If it wasn't magic then... what? Kat's bolt struck with resounding force and the elemental shuddered like nothing he'd ever seen before--odd, considering he'd never seen an elemental to begin with. He wasn't sure how to react to that... so he didn't. Storing that question in the back of his mind for later, Marcus slammed his right fist into his left palm, a light blue runic symbol appearing both on the back of his hands and at the rain-soaked asphalt at his feet. "Effortless water, break thy silence!" For a brief second, the rain around Marcus stopped, frozen in mid-air--literally. They all turned in the elemental's direction... and then they dropped out of the air harmlessly. "...you've GOT to be kidding."

Fortitude Roll [DC17]: (1d20+6=9) And it fails, dropping its toughness in the process. Ow. TOU check: (1d20+2=19) -7 for the TOU drain, and we're looking at 12, making the elemental Bruised. Arcturus can't physically harm it and he knows it... so he uses a Hero Point to stunt a spell off of his Enhanced Strength: Will Check [DC19]: (1d20+12=16) He fails his Will check and his spell fizzles. Ouch.

Marcus didn't even object to Elias going through the woman's pockets. She had, after all, attacked him first. He shook his head, trying to get his own thoughts together... "You alright?" He was certain that Elias's power was putting some strain on him. Marcus reached over to grab Elias as he tried to steady himself. "I guess that's a no... did you find anything?" Marcus's eyes moved from the unconscious woman to the unconscious tigerman. Outside of handing them both to the authorities, he wasn't entirely sure what to do next... but he really wanted to know why she tried to sneak up on him. Just the thought of it made him irritated all over again.

GM The elemental turned slowly. It was only vaguely humanoid; a glowing, partially transparent yellowish form with even brighter white eyes. Electricity crackled off its entire being, and once it noticed Warp and Arcturus, it seemed to focus its efforts on the two of them. It gestured, and a streak of lightning burst from its hand, aimed right for the teleporter. The shot missed its mark, however, striking the street behind them with enough force to up-end one of the cars they had passed.