Thunder King

Rene's words seemed to hearten the people around him, who seemed to calm down slightly. Rene found the sound system readily enough. Everyone stayed out of his way either because they were too afraid to move, or because they knew he was a hero and there to help. Either way, it took him no time to find the sound system. Cheerful music replaced the scared silence. It was as if the crowd realized the circus was still on. "Y-yes!" The ringmaster said, clearly shaken. He found a microphone, and seemed to have found some of his courage, as well. "W-we are a circus!" He said, raising his hands. "T-the show will go on!" He said, looking around the area. "W-we have a superhero here. He will find the villain who scared us, and he'll put him in his place!" The crowd murmured nervously. He put his hand over the microphone "If he's here, please, find him."

The crowd are still scared, but the atmosphere is no longer one of abject terror

18 for initiative

Mali shuffled in, quick as lightning. Her right foot dropped to the mat and she lunged forward like a shot. She figured he was probably going to react like that. Guys like Morgan always come in fast and try to throw you off balance. That was her usual tactic, too. Whenever she fought someone she knew to be stronger than her, she knew to come in as hard and as fast as she could, to throw them off balance. She threw a punch in the general direction of his chest, but before that landed, she moved it aside and came in low with a kick to the side of his calf, hoping it hit.

Rene was chatting with a few of the circus workers when he heard the scream. It cut through the air like a knife. All the lights in the area flickered momentarily. All the chatter stopped dead. Then the laughter came. It was loud, almost painfully so, and the air filled with a cacophony of jingling chains. It came at his ears from all directions. People held their hands over their ears and somewhere, a child began to cry. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The air was still, and a cold crept in like the chill of the grave. Two of the workers backed up against the wall and started to shake. One man, tall, broad shouldered and strong, covered his ears and cowered like a beaten animal. People were crying and shaking. It was apparent to Rene that everyone was in the grip of pure, raw terror. It was like nitroglycerine. The only thing stopping everyone else from running blindly to the exits was the sheer terror they all experienced. Only Rene remained unaffected by the effect. The area stunk of foul magic, and he knew this fear was not natural.

Everyone in the circus just had to make a will save against fear. Well, except for Rene, who's immune to them. That's why everyone is freaking out IC.

She chuckled. "That works for me." She backed away for a moment, shuffling her feet slightly. "I didn't say he doesn't work hard." She said, trying to clarify. She stretched a bit. Morgan was a tough opponent. Perhaps not as strong, but he was a dirty cheater. She was fine with that. There were few people that would consistently fight 'fair', and in a real fight with your life on the line? She'd rather cheat than die. She raised her fists and balanced her right leg on the ball of her foot "Ready?"

She laughed. "Well, John's hardly fair. He fights like a well-oiled machine that takes people and turns them into victims." She said with a chuckle. She brought her fists up and threw a few shadow punches. "See you and I get by on pure hard work. Every day, every minute. We struggle and fight like hell." She grinned. "But I gotta admit, I love it."

"Happy to help." He said. "That fire guy was very dangerous. He nearly had me a couple of times. I'm wondering who he is and where he got those powers from." He was curious. This wasn't good, at all. His powers were strange, nothing he'd quite seen before. He resolved to keep an eye out for anything that could lead to discovering who or what that fire user was.

Solar Sentinel walked over to the garage door and hit the button to raise it. He levitated into the air and flew outside. He held his hands up, to clearly show that he was unarmed, but he assumed the police would recognize him from when he helped them earlier. "They're all out in there, but I'd recommend moving quickly. Don't want any of them to wake up and make a run for it." He said. He was glad that, apparently, no one had been seriously hurt. Except for the criminals themselves, and he knew none of them would have any injuries beyond a few bruises or a concussion. All in all, it could have gone much, much worse.

They knew, they knew she was here. That was all there was to it. Stealth and subtlety were good tools, but it was time to set them aside. There was no longer any point to sneaking about, not when the person they were looking for might be in danger. Plus, she had to assume that if they knew she was there, they might have reason to suspect the others. So, when she spotted the door, she simply slammed her foot into the top of it as hard as she could. The force of her blow knocked the door clean off it's hinges, sending it flying and scooting along the floor. A lot of noise, she knew, but that was helpful.

If these guys are still minions, Graft is gonna take 10 for a 20, DC25 autofire strike on the first guy, then the second if he's still standing.

Cutting to the night seems like the most logical thing. The circus folk will help by making sure they are in constant communication with each other and you (that stuff will occur offscreen) So at the first sighting of something unusual, they'll contact you immediately.

The man chuckled nervously. "I think maybe we should, you know, stay out of the crazy evil clown business. But hey, if he relies on fear, we should try to be brave. Put the show on anyway, give the crowd a hell of a night. Maybe this Jingles guy will expect us to be terrified, but we'll just give him cold looks." ~~~~~~LATER THAT NIGHT~~~~~ The last light of day vanished beneath the horizon as the circus rushed for the night's showing. Halloween night, promised to be a hell of a show. Rene spent the day in communication with various circus performers and workers, and between them, they worked out a network of radios. If anything unusual happened, they would contact Rene immediately so he could intervene. As the circus set-up was quite large, this would help Rene get to wherever Jingles decided to show his face.

Mali was going to be the last time they tried for an infant. Apsari, her mother, struggled to get pregnant, and they tried everything modern medicine had available. Mali had been all but a miracle. Apsari nearly died giving birth, and the two of them decided against trying for more children. On his days off, Annan was fond of training. Katas and forms of Muay Thai that had long ago stopped being training for tournaments, and started being a fitness regiment. When he watched his daughter, he would often sit her in her play pen in the same room, and would train while she played. It did not take him long to realize that his little girl would occasionally watch him train. He assumed, as most would, that his odd movements were interesting to watch, and before long she'd always grow bored and grab one of her toys. At five years old, though, she began mimicking him. He would punch, and so would she. She did not seem to know what it was she was doing, and he found it amusing to watch her awkwardly dance about in a crude mimicry of his more practiced and smooth motions. He assumed that his daughter would grow bored of mimicking him, but day after day, month after month, she would follow him where ever he went to train, and would mimic him. He found himself performing simpler katas, slower and more deliberately than his norm. Just to see if she could follow along. She did so as well as any four year old could. He did not even realize he was teaching her until he found himself gently correcting her mistakes. That was it, he realized. It was either help her learn, or risk a phone call from the preschool about his daughter knocking some other child silly. So, he began teaching her in earnest. Always emphasizing that it was important never to use violence as a last resort. He assumed that as the years faded, his daughter would drop Muay Thai and turn to more girlish interests. He was not entirely wrong. Mali did indeed watch shows for girls, play with dolls, and do the other stuff society thought young girls should do. But she did not abandon her training. Instead, at about eight years old, she began training on her own. He came home from work one day to find her in the basement of their home, training intently. He watched her, and felt a little sadness. The awkward, humorous motions that she had started her training with had been replaced by efficient, elegant ones. He could not decide if he was proud, or sad. She was twelve years old when her father told her the stories in detail. She had heard the vague allusions to her true history growing up, and at twelve, her father called her into the family room to explain something to her. The television was off, the lights were low, and he was sitting in his favorite chair, waiting patiently. When she sat down, he began the tale. One man, he said, took it upon himself to fight the oppressive regime in Thailand. One man took on the drug trade. He explained that while the US had heroes like the Freedom League, Thailand had it's own hero. The Black Tiger, her own great grandfather. Those stories entranced her. Her great grandfather's exceptional skill in battle, how he once burned a warehouse full of opium to the ground. Even his legendary final battle, in which Black Tiger 'died'. Thailand believed that the Black Tiger died as he had lived; standing defiantly against tyranny and the opium distributors. The truth was that Black Tiger had grown too old to fight as he did, and faked his death. Her father said that it was no shame to retire, and that even in death his story inspired others. After that story, Mali did not say much. She was consumed with thoughts in her own head and respectfully withdrew to her bedroom. She brooded on everything he had said. The legacy of her family, the history. Her family had been practicing Muay Thai for generations, she was merely the latest practitioner. But there was a legacy in her family that was, perhaps, just as important. She did not tell her father what she decided, or even what she meditated on. However, the next morning, she insisted on sparring. She wanted to graduate from mere forms to learning how to disable and harm opponents. She passed it off on saying that Freedom City was still a dangerous place to live, and that it would make sense if she could defend herself. She also solemnly swore never to use it against anyone who was not a threat to herself or someone else, and to only ever use as much force as was required to defeat a threat. The truth was, that was the day she decided that she would one day put a costume of her own on, and would join Freedom City's proud heroes. From that day, her training intensified. Her old hobbies were set aside, and she spent every moment she was not studying in training. She had few friends and no interest in socializing with most of the children at her school. She still dressed nice, and still took time out for fun, but even most of her favorite activities involved athletics. She was careful, very careful, not to overwork herself. She studied every facet of working out and training. She put herself on a strict diet, and mostly stuck to it. One day, at fourteen years old, she challenged her father to a spar. He had lost little of his edge, and the two of them soon escalated a simple spar into a full-contact fight. Then, one punch came just a little too slow, and she knocked it aside and countered with a punch to the stomach. Her father staggered back, the breath blown out of him. She panicked for a split second, but it was apparent that the blow had done no real damage. She did not realize, until that moment, that all that training had paid off. She was so much stronger, faster and surer than she had been. She was fourteen years old, and knew there were few fighters in the world she could not handle. She tried to wait until she was eighteen. She really did. It was difficult, though, knowing the evils of the world. She tried to wait four years. She only waited two. The costume she ordered through various channels, the motorcycle she had custom ordered. She ordered two bikes and told her father she had only bought one. She fought crime, fresh faced and sixteen years old. It was fun, it was exciting. It wasn't until she came home one night to find a strange, older man sitting in her living room that everything became real. He told her of a school, of an opportunity to learn to be a real superhero. Like many other things she did in her life, Mali jumped at the chance.

Got a 22, nice

Well, I am okay with it if he wants to. It's possible Starchaser didn't see Graft react to the attack by helping people.

He didn't give them the chance to fight back. He decided to try a new trick. Something he hadn't really done before. He felt the energy in him swell as his body burst into azure flame. He concentrated it all into the center of his being before sending out a bright blue wave of energy. A burst of cosmic fire, exploding outward. It slammed into them all as the room filled with blue light. He had done this trick only once or twice before. It was tiring to do, and he knew it would hurt them a lot more than it hurt him. Once the light subsided, he landed and stumbled for a split second. He decided that he would either never pull that trick again, or get better at pulling it.

Gonna stunt an AP Damage 8 Extra (burst), 40 foot burst, DC23 TOU save, 20 on the attack roll

19? I'll take it

Solar Sentinel is going to fly over the skylight of the building and look in with a 20

Well, guess it's time to act. he thought to himself. He hurled forward at blistering speed before spotting a building with a skylight. When he saw that there was a van, and more to the point, movement within the building, he decided to act. It was simple, really. The glass was not likely built to handle the full force of his energy blasts, and if there were in fact people in the garage, he had a plan to stop them. He blasted through the window and stopped himself in mid air. The blue glow that surrounded his body shone bright, and he scanned the room for threats.

Crimson Tiger Vignette: A Cold November Night November 5th, 9:00 PM The night was hers. The sky above was a blue black, and there was white fog when she breathed. Still, her costume was pretty warm, and she was spoiling for a good fight. The sun had just set, it was a Friday evening, and it was a good night for a patrol. The Tigercycle purred beneath her as she rode beneath the streetlamps. The Fens, one of the worst parts of town, and a good place to thwart bad people. Beneath the helmet, her eyes darted this way and that, looking for signs of trouble. Then, she spotted them. Eight, no, nine people, standing in front of a storefront. At first, she thought maybe they were just talking, but then she spotted the store owner stepping out. One of the men grabbed him. They did not see the Tigercycle as it pulled up to the side of the curb across the street as they grabbed him and pulled him toward a nearby alley. She glanced up at the roof of the building and aimed her grapple gun at it. She swung over the traffic and rushed to the top of the building. She ran to the side and glanced into the alley. The men were shouting threats. One of them punched the shopkeeper in the face. She knew she had to act quickly. She attached the grapple to the ledge and dropped to the opening of the alley, silent as a stalking tiger. Then, she pounced. She bolted towards the men as fast as she could, making sure she kept them off balance. She grabbed the first man by the arm and pulled him into an elbow to the face. Then, without letting go she twisted and almost threw him into the man next to him, sending them both sprawling. One of the men swung something. A pipe? A bat? She didn't care, and she didn't let him use it. She grabbed his arm and popped his shoulder out of socket with a quick, brutal strike and kicked him away from her. The shop owner got up and scrambled away, seemingly grateful. She hoped he'd call the police. The sooner they showed up to clean up the mess, the better. One of the men was out, another was nursing a useless arm and growling in pain. That meant seven more. Seven foes to drop. Seven up, seven down. They moved to circle her, and she let them. They made crude jokes, they taunted, they brandished weapons. She could have dropped them all with brutal efficiency. She saw the openings, the opportunities. She let them pass. She wanted a workout, wanted to at least give them a try. One came at her from behind. It was obvious, of course they'd try to attack from behind. She turned around lightning quick and slammed her elbow into the attacker's face. He would probably wake up the next morning in custody, wondering how the hero got the drop on him like that. One of them swung a baseball bat at her head. A solid swing, and if it had hit it would have knocked her silly, and that would have been the end of her. It was even fast, but she was much faster. She dropped below the swing and slammed her right hand into his midsection. A vicious kidney shot that would leave him aching for days. Then, before he had a chance to even breathe, she delivered a vicious uppercut to his abdomen before dropping him with an elbow to the small of the back. Two more, a woman and a man, stepped in from the sides. Not a bad move, flank a superior opponent and try for something clever. The girl lunged with a knife straight at her face. That was the feint. She stepped aside it and then stomped down at the man's foot. He roared in pain. She punched the woman in the jaw and sent her sprawling before whipping around and delivering a painful snap kick to the man's stomach. The last two turned tail and run, but she wasn't about to let them get away after that. She caught the first one with a lunging punch, but the second one managed to evade her before she hit him. She drew her chakram from it's pouch and hurled it after the fleeing woman. It caught her in the back and sent her tumbling into a set of trash cans. She dragged the beaten thugs together and cuffed them with zip ties. Then, to ensure they couldn't get away, zip tied them all to each other. The shopkeeper came around the corner and smiled. His eye had swollen shut, and he had a bag of ice in one hand. Thanks to her, it was his only injury. In the other he held a thermos. He held it out for her, and she popped it open. It was coffee. Good coffee, too. She smiled and nodded her thanks as she sipped it. Less than fifteen minutes later, the police were there and picked up the criminals. She finished the last of the coffee and handed the thermos back to him. She decided to evade traffic and fired her grapple gun at the building across the street. She dropped down and settled onto the Tigercycle. The bike purred to life, and she set off into the night to continue her patrol.

Solar Sentinel followed close behind and stopped once he reached where the police where. He stayed above them, high in the air and waiting for the police to act. While he could probably stop them, he figured it was better to wait for the police to act. That way, if there were other criminals, they could take the lot of them down in one fell swoop. Not that it mattered anyway. Solar Sentinel knew he was fast enough to arrive on scene in a split second. He could encircle the globe in less than an hour, he could certainly drop down and help the police quickly.

Graft bolted towards the men in gas masks. All anyone on the street saw was the vague outline of a green blur, hurling at top speed at the attackers. He slammed his fist into the first man and sent him flying and skittering away, unconscious, and out of the caustic chemical range. Then, he turned and punched at a second man. Something shifted, though, and the man fell directly into the caustic chemicals that were pooling around the area. He wasn't about to let anyone die, so he stepped into the chemicals. The suit reacted poorly to the chemicals, burning at his feet. He growled in pain, but plucked the man out and tossed him away from the chemicals. He would probably still need medical care, but at least he wouldn't dissolve.