GranspearZX

"Least I could do for the drink," he replied with a nod. He'd never had a run-in with biker gangs--not that he actually knew about, mind you, but it was a small world. For a moment he wondered if he should just give up on his brother's antics for once, but the second he did... "I doubt they'll do anything." He looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting a particularly large bearded man's gaze. He promptly looked away, grumbling into his beer and directing whatever comment that came after to another patron sitting across from him. "I take it you do this sort of thing often."

"I'm... keepin' an eye on somebody." It was pretty stupid of him, in hindsight, to waltz into a bar where the heroic type wasn't always welcome. Still, part of him actually thought that this masked vigilante might actually hurt Ben if something were to go down in here; not that he didn't deserve it, but his relationship with his twin brother had always been complex, and Clark had been protecting him for as long as he could remember. At this point, it was more of a reflex than a rational decision. His shield was on his back and both his hands were on the table in plain sight; the brief thought crossed his mind that, if he really wanted to scare the crap out of people, this hockey mask-wearing fellow certainly had a better handle on it than he did. His entire costume design was based on his father's, after all... he wondered if it made him seem a little more stodgy than he really was. "And what about you?"

Crusader could hold his own in a fight. He'd bailed his brother out of plenty of them, and he had the scars and medical records to prove it. He could almost smell the hostility in the air rising, and his senses did the same; he could almost hear the leather of his gloves creaking as he clenched his fists... And then, the masked man's voice broke the tension. The Crusader definitely noticed that the man in the black hockey mask had a considerable amount of pull--the fact that he wasn't the first one to do anything threatening also hadn't escaped his attention. Eyeing a few of the patrons with a glare of his own, he sat down at the vigilante's table. "Huh. Thanks." He hadn't let his guard down yet, turning the chair backward as he sat down, still surveying the room.

In civilian garb, Clark could've easily been mistaken for a biker type. And given that Ben was his twin and was inside the place, it made it that much more plausible. Still, it really wasn't his thing--mostly because he didn't think it was the sort of thing anyone wanted a public school teacher doing. The motorcycle club he belonged to was nothing like these biker gangs; his was made up of volunteer firefighters, police officers... public servants that actually did things for their communities. Most of the intimidating look was just that for them--a look. He watched as the man in the hockey mask strode into the bar, raising an eyebrow. It was definitely something he hadn't expected to see tonight, and he couldn't really tell what side of the law the guy was on. He'd heard of a guy in the Fens that walked around in a hockey mask and spiked collar... he really did look as intimidating as the rumors described. Sitting outside had done little but give him a runny nose from the changing air; going inside might not have been such a bad idea. It only took a few moments for him to get down from the building. As he walked up to the bar, he looked at the dimly lit sign: "The Lucky Shot", complete with the 'o' designed to look like a large bullseye. Some of the bullet holes in it even looked real. He sighed--his brother would definitely be attracted to some place like this, and the second he walked in, the dank scent of sweat and cigar smoke hit him. It was surprisingly familiar, and red and white-clad hero felt over a dozen pairs of eyes hit him at once the second he walked in, his shield strapped to his back. ...yeah. This is gonna go over well. He didn't see his brother immediately, but he was certain that would change as the night went on.

Patrols seemed like a difficult part of life for someone who was, practically, just moonlighting as a hero. Clark Noble had, in fact, asked for this life, for more reason than one. Honoring the legacy of his father--certainly not the first Crusader but definitely not the last--was only a fraction when he was hanging out on rooftops, watching... No, he had more reasons than that to be out and about, thanks in no small part to his delinquent brother. It was because of him that he knew there was so much filth and corruption in the Fens. In Freedom in general, for that matter. It hadn't been enough to make Clark go against his nature thus far; fundamentally, he still wanted to protect others just as his father had. It did, however, make him open his eyes to the distinct possibility that everything wasn't as rosy as the surface would have one believe. In the Fens, however, it didn't even bother to hide itself behind anything, as if the dimming sun was enough. He was, in fact, watching his brother. Not directly, but he sat on a rooftop across the street from some seedy biker bar he'd watched Ben go into. Clark's expression was almost a sad one. The best case scenario would be that Ben would stumble out of the bar, drunk and penniless.

Crusader tried to see into the next car, much the same way as he had done before. He narrowed his eyes a bit, almost hoping to make something out between the flashes of light, but he got absolutely nothing. He stepped back and looked towards Cannonade and Wisp--just in time to see the other teen drive his hand into and through the converter box. "What the--!!" He didn't have time to finish his thought; the sudden jarring of the subway train threw him off balance and onto the subway floor. As the car came to a literal screeching halt, he rubbed at his arm and tried to sit upright. "Is everybody okay? Geez, that was... ah..." He blinked at Citizen. The kid looked literally stuck in the floor. He wasn't even sure how that was possible. "...huh. You're somethin' else, son..." He managed a faint grin before hauling himself back to his feet, looking towards the others to check their condition before his eyes went back to the darkened car ahead. "Think that slowed 'em down?"

"You'd think that me not rearranging your face would count as mercy." Arcturus was no diplomat. He was trying, but that generally didn't mean as much when he was as worked up as he was. He narrowed his eyes, clawed fingers twitching a bit as Thomas edged towards that sword. "I'd lay you out before you got halfway there, tin man." He could tell the knight wasn't lying. Of course, he could also tell that the knight had never even seen him before, which made the attack on his illusion that much more irritating. He took a deep, calming breath--in his case, it wasn't as effective as it might've been in his human form. Still, he didn't take another swing at Thomas. That was definitely a start. "So why don't you tell me why you think I'm this 'beast' thing you're after. 'Cause clearly I'm not it. And if you call me evil or accuse me of harmin' women and kids one more time, I'm gonna hang you by your ankles from that tree and leave you to the REAL wild animals."

Sense Motive (1d20+9=17)

"I think we can keep this place pretty well protected." It wasn't just overconfidence talking; his mind was already working out an array of wards and circles that could deal with a variety of outside assaults, magical or otherwise. He folded his arms across his chest and looked around, still decidedly creeped out by the presence of ghosts but trying to cope all the same. "Besides... I'm not gonna put all this effort into this place just to have some idiot try and take it from us. I'll fight fang and claw for it if I have to. If you're willing to put up with us, that's really all that matters, right. Plus, I figure you've been through enough that you shouldn't have to worry about the baggage we might attract." He nodded matter-of-factly. He wasn't entirely sure if that would really convince anyone of anything, but it was how he felt, and he figured he might as well speak up now.

GM "Ah... Long story. Feel like taking a ride?" Marcus rubbed at his temples, still a bit hazy from the lack of restful sleep. It probably wasn't the most ideal condition for him to drive across town, either, but he'd made worse decisions. As he started walking, he nearly ran Wisp right over, and he stopped long enough to register who she was. "Oh. Victoria, right?" Marcus paused. "...ah, you should probably come too." He dialed a number on his phone as he led the way to his car. Rene de Saens might've been a relentlessly frustrating old man, but he'd had experience with this sort of thing before. As he led Etain and Wisp to his beaten-up old vehicle, he had a brief conversation before hanging up. Marcus sent one text message as well, short and to the point: Merc: Garage, 5 mins. -Arc "I don't know if you guys know Julia... She's a sophomore here; I met her my first day after I transferred. I think... I think she just tried to pull me into a dream just now. She sounded like she needed help, and not of the medical kind. I mean, she's got narcolepsy, but it's never been this serious." He opened the passenger side doors for them both to get in. "I don't think she's ever actually screamed to get someone's attention in a dream."

1d20+9=13 Pretty sure that's gonna miss. o.o

"Sounds like a plan to me!" He focused on the one serpent person remaining upright, trying to move past him to a more advanced position at the back of the car. He spun around and sent his shield spinning back at the last serpent person--it was easier than trying to keep up with Wisp's teleporting. It was making him a little bit dizzy just watching her. The car suddenly jerked and his swing went wide, bouncing against a pole and back at Crusader. "Tch... damn it all..."

An OOC thread corresponding to this thread.

GM February 18, 2010 Rumor had it that when you get pulled into another dimension, even by accident, part of you becomes 'attuned' with it. Being mentally projected into it wasn't enough; one had to physically be there, and it just happened that Marcus Irons had actually been in someone's dreams before, pulled into a Nightmare Realm entirely by accident. Of course, he had no idea what it was until weeks after the encounter. Since then, he'd become exceptionally well read on the subject. Marcus had been in the middle of class when he heard it. He was in the middle of history class, stuck in his bear form, and falling asleep during the lecture. He had been trying to stay awake, but the moment he closed his eyes, he heard a voice calling out to him. He jolted himself awake, but it didn't last long; the bear's head sank as he drifted off to sleep mid-lecture again. The second time was easily the worst--a piercing scream and the brief flash of a swarm of bats shocked him enough that he stood straight up, knocking over his desk in the process. After the giggling from his classmates and the butt-chewing from his history teacher were over, Arcturus stood out in the hall, trying to piece together what he'd seen. This wasn't like when he'd had that vision at the museum, however; this time, he had help--Julia Wilson. He'd met her on his first day at Claremont. In fact, she'd been waiting at the gate for him, like she knew he was coming. It turned out, of course, that she did--she'd seen it in a dream. 'Dream Girl', as she'd been called around campus, had a knack for seeing and interpreting things like that, so she was the first person he thought of asking. Unfortunately, when he went by her room, she wasn't there--and hadn't been for at least two days. Her roommate answered their door, and she didn't look all that well. "Didn't you hear? She's in the hospital." "Since when?" "Since two days ago." "...where is she now?" "Freedom Medical Center... I think her parents are there, too." "...mm. Okay. Thanks." Marcus went straight back to his room--finally able to shift back to his human form--and grabbed his keys. It was the middle of the day and he'd had a study session planned, but this somehow seemed for more important.

"Funny you should mention that... My active magic might not be all smoke and mirrors like his," he motioned at Warlock, smiling, "but that, I could pull off. I think it'd just be a matter of blocking your normal vision so that it's more like the average person's... After all, I did make this." He hefted his staff; normally he wasn't such a braggart, but this... was different. At least, that's the story he was sticking to. "Seance? ...really?" Marcus could easily say he was opposed to the idea from the start. Boundaries existed between worlds for a reason; he'd learned that lesson at least three times over in the past four months. Still, he didn't say anything against the idea. "...well, I suppose it couldn't hurt."

Simple straightforward attack: Attack roll: (1d20+7=17)

"Typhon, huh?" Crusader charged forward, stowing the name in his memory. It didn't really ring any immediate bells... besides, he was too busy ringing the snake mens' bells to really think about it. To that end he shot across the car, managing to keep his balance pretty well; when he closed into range, he tried to bash his shield right into the serpent warrior's face.

Marcus just listened quietly, stuffing his right hand into his pocket and tapping it against the small box of chalk he often carried with him. "...cleaning ghosts. Well, I guess that's not the weirdest thing..." The supernatural always did bother him. Psychics, more than anything, especially lately. Still, he was nothing if not open minded. "That must've been one heck of a lesson." He stood up, pacing around a little bit; the general feel of the place made it hard for him to sit still. Marcus definitely wasn't straying too far away from anyone though; he'd seen enough horror movies to know that people get snatched up rather easily like that. Mystic or no, it was hard for him to just dismiss those stereotypes.

Arc would probably just toss it somewhere. He doesn't want to hurt the guy... much... :)

Ah! In that case: Arc tries to intimidate the knight (move action): Intimidate (1d20+11=16) -5 makes that 11. Oi. Maintaining the grapple (free action): Grapple Check: (1d20+18=38) And trying to wrestle the sword out of his hand (standard action): Disarm attempt: (1d20+9=25)

I actually hadn't touched Monster Island a whole lot. By 35, I started hanging out in Vibora Bay instead. Sure, everything's at least 2 levels higher than I am, but somehow it doesn't matter.. and I usually have the difficulty setting at Hard. (Hawk is freeform, mostly Might powers with a few random others thrown in like Howl, the Power Armor shield, and Indestructible as a passive defense.)

"Shut up!" Arcturus tried to pin the knight to the ground, bringing his full weight to bear--no pun intended. He wasn't trying to completely crush the guy, though, and made sure to hold back JUST enough not to break anything. He was a surprisingly competent wrestler, though, and in the midst of their struggle he tried to grab the knight's wrist, jarring the sword loose from his grip. "We're gonna have a conversation. And you're gonna listen, or so help me, I'm gonna tear your arms off and beat you with 'em! The fact that I haven't done it yet oughta tell you something." Not that he would really do such a thing, but the impression that he actually might was very much established. He was very much aware that if he hadn't transformed, the knight just might've actually been a lot more of a handful. "So let's start with why you're trying to kill a total stranger, huh, Sir Fussybritches? And don't give me that sanctimonious 'valiant quest' nonsense either," he said, shaking a balled up fist at the end of the knight's nose.

Oh god, he's worse than Morgan. The thought was more amusing than alarming; it actually made him smile. Never mind that he'd been the only one who didn't walk in through the front door; he'd noticed, but he wasn't sure if anyone else had. It reminded him of an old TV series he saw..."I don't think you've got that to worry about; everyone here's pretty trustworthy." He glanced over at Warlock for a second as he said that. He didn't know the guy at all, but he seemed to know Nick... that was good enough for him. "But... yeah. Showing up to a gathering where you don't know anyone isn't all that thoughtful. I'd have given you a ride if I'd known... either way, you're more than welcome to ride back with us. And while I'm thinking about that..." He looked over at Rene. "Did you take a cab again?"

"Rene? Oh... hey, how're you?" Marcus smiled; he probably should have expected Rene's presence, given the nature of the meeting. He smiled and nodded at both him and Evander, though Evander earned a bit of a raised eyebrow from the wide-shouldered teenager as he went straight for the food. It didn't do well for first impressions, but he seemed especially sure of himself. It wasn't a terrible trait to have--he and Crow definitely had that in common. Mercury. Complete with the wings on his shoes... Interesting. He couldn't really tell what sort of magic he could command, but Etain might. Marcus bristled inwardly at how Mercury looked at her though... Wait. Why do I even care? He exhaled deeply to clear his head, sitting down in the chair beside Etain and putting his knapsack and staff on the floor. He fidgeted a little bit, still nervous about being in a place like this with nothing in his hands, so he laid them both flat on the table and tried to think of something else. "So... ah... Evander. I don't think I've seen you around before... have I?"

Standing at range seemed to be working so far, and the teenager and skinhead seemed to be doing a pretty good job of keeping the snake men suppressed. Still, he moved forward, though he was still at enough distance that he couldn't get to them--or vice versa. "Whatever they eat," he chimed in, rearing back for another shield throw at the same two goons he'd targeted before, "they'd better hope Blackstone serves it."