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Quarrel Have A Cigar! -- 6 IC Posts Quarrel's Reputation Page The Questionnaire (aka HellQ) The Interview (aka 20 Questions) 20Q pp not awarded due to improper format

Okay, focusing on the other three goons from Quarrel's last round whom are still standing (which I'm guessing are #10, #11, & #12), this time with much more... vim, if you will. Another Full-Round Autofire Attack against the three Mooks whom are still adjacent to one another. Mechanical breakdown below: Attack Bonus with Bow: +15 +2 All-Out Attack: +17 -3 Autofire Penalty: +14 -4 Power Attack Penalty: +10, Take 10 for an Attack Total of 20 with a Toughness DC 24 Save if Hit (DC 20 + 4 Power Attack). Quarrel's Defense Bonus: +15 -2 All-Out Attack: +13, for a Defense Total of 23.

Quarrel "Caca santa!" cried Quarrel, the stream of bullets whizzing beyond his head and chipping away the roof he was poised upon. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as Quarrel tensed up, crouching and narrowing his profile reflexively as the mobsters retaliated with more gusto, the beaked hero looking about at the mayhem wrought below. With more than half of the guards outside of the mysterious mobster meeting grounds and the racket of combat echoing from within, the as-of-yet deciphered conglomeration between rival gangs either in their final throes... or things weren't going so well therein. Still entrapped with the skirmish outside, the chilly night air bit down upon the young archer as though it were some violent beast, the combination of starlight and streetlamps just enough to illuminate the entourage of still conscious enforcers and their slumbering brethren below. Enzo needed to hurry; he had sparse seconds to incapacitate the remainder of the mafioso men before they thought it prudent to run into the warehouse, both magnifying the situation inside and making it that much harder for Quarrel himself to perform his role in this last-minute strategy. Expediency, as it were, remained the prime tenant necessary for this assault to prove successful. Having narrowed his number of available targets significantly, Quarrel strung a new triplet of blunt-tipped arrows, this time focusing his fire even more exclusively against the gangland entrepreneurs. There was no more time to waste, the time for quality over quantity of his shots now finally a more viable option, allowing him the prospect of more aggravated precision. Pulling the compound bow much more taught this time around, the mosaic-garbed adventurer focusing his line-of-sight upon the trio of mooks who had managed to withstand his last barrage. The familiar reverberation of the forceful twang resounded through the night like a low crack of thunder in Quarrel's ears, the projectiles hurdling their way through the air with devastating force. They might have managed to stay on their feet for the first barrage, but this time they wouldn't be so lucky.

Quarrel While he'd hoped the ensemble of artillery would have been enough to topple all of his intended targets, sometimes it just happened to be that men and women of criminal intent were made of sterner stuff. However, there was little time for Quarrel to waste, the erstwhile pair of chance acquaintances already having barged their way inside. If he didn't stem the tide of these other gangsters, the trouble inside would no doubt escalate to a point of extreme danger; a prospect most unwelcome in his line of work. Once more, Quarrel steeled himself behind his blue avian mask, pulling taught the string of his compound bow alongside a menagerie of arrows. Like a well-trained artisan, each pluck let loose another slew of blunt implements towards the Freedom Mobsters, the orchestrated onslaught rapidly releasing from between his fingers upon the hapless crooks below.

Since at least the majority of one side of the mobsters are down for Quarrel (assuming they were all in some sort of bizarre conga-line), he'll adjust his fire towards the rest of the guards outside Warehouse #4 whom are still standing relatively close to one another and perform a feat much the same as the last. Attack with Bow: +15 +2 All-Out Attack: +17 -1 Attack for Autofire per Target (Total: -6): +11, for a Total Take 10 Attack Roll of +21. This results in damage equal to a Toughness Save vs. DC 20. Quarrel's Defense Bonus: +15 -2 All-Out Attack: +13 Bonus, 23 Defense Total

So, here we go... mechanics of MnM. The bane of my current existence. Okay, so, Quarrel's gonna use his Autofire Blast 3 on the first half-dozen mobsters below. Assuming they're simply Minions, he'll Take 10 on his Attack Roll. Below, I've included the mechanical breakdown, as well as rolls if they're necessary. Attack with Bow: +15 +2 All-Out Attack: +17 -1 Attack for Autofire per Target (Total: -6): +11, for a Total Take 10 Attack Roll of +21. This results in damage equal to a Toughness Save vs. DC 20. Quarrel's Defense Bonus: +15 -2 All-Out Attack: +13 Bonus, 23 Defense Total Also, rolls if necessary. Each individual roll is per mobster. EDIT: Oh, and Initiative = 20

Quarrel And so the foray into this cockamamie scheme against the aggregated mobsters had begun. As motes of smoke grew into tumultuous torrents of cloudy shadow from one of the other heroes' chemical canisters, Quarrel watched on as the rooftop vigilantes made for their ever-so-grandiose entrance. Now was the best chance to waylay the mooks below, seizing the opportunity to deliver the proverbial coup de' grace en masse from on-high as they scrambled through the eschewed order "Here we go again." Once more reconciling his aim, the mosaic-garbed hero stood up from his perched position, bracing himself. With a practiced flash, Quarrel pulled back upon the composite bow's string, the familiar echo of of a twang following suit as his projectile flew forth. The whistling through the air only signified the first of many, as Quarrel continued to exemplify his sharpshooting talents by quickly readying one shot after another, creating a staccato of strings from his trusty weapon, blunted arrows raining down upon the men below in an aerial cacophony of siren-like screeches.

Quarrel As he awaited the first strike from his impromptu comrades down the street, Quarrel soon found himself on the receiving end of a very peculiar message. Startled slightly as the pen and playing card come clattering atop the room, sliding only a few inches from his foot, the young archer gave a wistful glance towards his heroic compatriots, a look of surprise behind the mask. Quietly returning the arrows to his quiver and stealthily moving backwards, Quarrel stooped down atop the warehouse's roof, scooping up the creatively conjured letter. Slowly, he read the duo's newly conceived plan, an eyebrow arched as he analyzed the situation. On the one-hand, it had its merits: slipping in amongst the confusion, they had a chance to apprehend everyone inside with significantly more ease than if, say, another dozen men were present. On the other end of the spectrum though, there was no telling how many more goons were inside, not to mention the prospect of Quarrel being left with such a staggeringly large number to deal with himself. If he were to come up short or have the other men go running into the building, it'd be a bloodbath annotated in a hail of gunfire. That means he'd have to be fast... no, beyond fast; he'd need to sweep the men off of their feet faster than he's ever done. "Nunca es' facil," sighed Enzo, looking from one side of the armed cadre to the other before returning his gaze. With no rogue leaflets lofting about - after all, he was on a roof! - Quarrel was left with little more than his own signification to relay his acceptance of this course of action. Hopefully the other two could get things done pronto. It was a gamble, and everyone knew the risks... Quarrel just hoped he wouldn't come to regret the odds. Hoisting a thumbs up in the direction of the dynamic duo over yonder, Quarrel rearmed himself, poised to take the shot the second they began their assault. With any luck, Enzo could pick off at least half of the assembled contingent crew below in a flurry of arrows; enough to at least give the surprisingly unpowered enforcers across the way atop the warehouse a fighting chance.

Given that we've essentially established we're all on the same side here, Quarrel's gonna go ahead and begin "Operation Ruin The Mobsters' Night By Crashing Their Party With Extreme Gusto." Rolls right off the tongue! Anyway, making simple hand gestures to convey Quarrel's basic strategy of "You goo punch them in the face, I've got you covered," since he's a take-charge kinda fella. If necessary, I guess that'd be some kind of Innuendo Bluff Check at DC 10, since the gestures are very simplistic. Also, readying an action to use his Autofire Attack against them just in-case, regardless of whether or not the others follow along EDIT: After discerning the... extra numbers involved, an amendment must be made! So, instead, Quarrel'll sort of motion that it might be a good idea to lure some of them away and pick them off. He'll continue to cover the doorway, just in-case, but otherwise will wait until a few of the mobsters begin to shuffle off before following along all shadowy-like to lend a hand.

Quarrel As the caped vigilante known as Quarrel awaited his ample opportunity to infiltrate the warehouse full of criminal lieutenants, something odd catches his eye. It's only for a fraction of a second at first; the sight of something shuffling upwards towards one of the nearby warehouses. Cocking an eye and readjusting his point-of-view, Quarrel re-positioned himself for a closer examination. That's when he saw them, silhouetted in the shadows beyond: a pair of costumed individuals! While it was hard to say for certain whether they were friend or foe, it seemed odd that they'd be poised together - one substantially more flashy than the other, at that - in a position that could serve to adequately assault the group of wiseguys guarding the front door to the ever-so-mysterious Warehouse #4. If the latter, then the odds were certainly stacked against the Latino archer. But that's not what Quarrel's gut said. No, these guys were on the up-and-up, unlike the well-dressed men below. From where he was perched so precariously, they appeared to be in the same boat as himself: waiting for an opportunity to strike. At least, until they looked up and spied him spying at them. "Good. Doesn't look like they're with em'," Quarrel murmured to himself as the duo across the way atop the other roof decidedly chose not to attack, taking a moment to peer downwards at the still stationary goons at street-level. They couldn't just sit here all night; someone was going to have to make the first move. Preferably before the mobsters decided to vamoose. Once more re-situating himself, the man with the avian masked gripped his bow in one-hand, using his other for what appeared to be hand gestures. Pointing downwards, Quarrel motioned towards the dozen or so mooks still dragging their smokes at the base of Warehouse #4; attempting to convey that now would be the time to strike while they had the advantage of numbers; relatively, anyway. With his vague hand signals sent, the Aztec-themed adventurer steeled his resolve, seizing the opportunity to draw the pair of blunt-tipped arrows back from out of the quiver cleverly concealed behind his cape as he strung them, the familiar resistance of his bow a warm reminder of his chosen career. With deadly aim, Quarrel readied himself for the assault. Hopefully, the three impromptu heroes could catch the guards unawares through luring tactics, take them down, storm the building, and catch the crooks with their pants down before they even knew what hit them!

Assuming a modest DC, Quarrel'll go ahead and Take 10 on his Notice Check via Skill Mastery, for a total result of +25.

Well, Quarrel's opposite them, so essentially on a warehouse across the street. So not terribly far, I'd wager :)

Quarrel Enzo's sojourn to Freedom City had been one rife with paperwork the last few months, but that didn't mean he didn't have an ear to the ground. After all, it paid little to be a costumed adventurer on the side who just wandered around the city streets aimlessly looking for trouble; you had to know where to look. With a little bit of eavesdropping, some sight-seeing to the local dives, and a bit of practiced know-how, Quarrel soon found himself in his own current predicament. Sitting a good ways from the warehouse where he'd heard rumors of some sort of deal going on with the local gangs, it soon became obvious that the darkly-mosaic archer was in over his head. With his hood upturned and eyes keenly observing the cadre of men puffing their nicotine-rife death sticks from behind his mask, their hands at the ready, it became obvious this wasn't what he thought it was going to be. These weren't your average pushers or gangbangers looking to consolidate their forces. These were the big-boys, clad in their tailored suits and brandishing top-notch iron, organized criminals of the foulest variety. "Descaballado," bemoaned the Aztec-themed sharpshooter in a whisper, hunkering down as far as he could against the rooftop across from the array of armed men standing guard outside the mafiosi-infested warehouse. "Now what am I supposed to do?" Slinging his compound bow discreetly from his shoulder alongside a pair of arrows, Quarrel surveyed the situation delicately. If he were to attempt a frontal assault, he would have to be quick, taking the allotted men out all in one fell swoop to avoid alerting the other targets inside. Failure would mean a shoot-out, and the head honchos would slip out the back. No... he would just have to wait and see if an opportunity would present itself. Maybe they'd get sloppy, have to use the restroom, something. Quarrel just needed a chance to take them down without rousing suspicion. "This used to be so easy..." sighs the young hero again, returning to his prone state as he observed the guards' from afar, waiting for the chance to take his shot against the men in the darkening streets below.

The Interview (aka 20 Questions)

Enzo Flores Quarrel