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  #26  
Unread 13th of March, 2005, 17:29
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Quantum
Status: 5/5 HP. Being grappled, and breathed on!

The first reflex the human body has when its supply of air is being cut off is to try to inhale; this is what usually causes people to drown quickly. With an effort of will, Quantum fights off this reflex, concentrating on keeping the air he already has where it should be: in his lungs.

Nevertheless, the inhaling reflex is impossible to completely avoid, and the brief whiff of air he gets is laden with whatever crawled into Devolution's belly and died. It's almost enough to make him gag, not that the pair of emaciated hands wrapped around his throat help that any.

As he grabs the old man's arms to try to take off some of the pressure, something registers in Quantum's awareness. The old man is panting. Heavily. This sort of exertion can't be healthy, even for a meathammer, though maybe Wreck could pull it off.

Not bothering to try to speak, Quantum simply looks up, serenity crossing his face to mingle with the strain of holding his breath. As he does, the sphere winks out of existence again, causing a snap as the air rushes in to fill the now-vacant space.

Where the sphere reappears, however, there is no whoosh of displaced air, or any sound at all. A slight crackling can be felt, more than heard, as the moisture in the air he brought along instantly crystallizes.

Sound doesn't travel in a vacuum.

(Deal with this. Superteleport... straight up, 150 miles. Since I'm already holding my breath, I'm at a slight advantage -- but the shock of being taken completely out of the atmosphere should jolt him, and once he lets go... well, he's going to end up in hard vacuum. Hopefully, I'll still be conscious enough to teleport back. Likely, this will call for a hero point -- consider it well spent.)
  #27  
Unread 13th of March, 2005, 18:41
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Quantum

At 240 km above sea level, the particle density is lower than the amount of meat in a McDonalds hamburger.

The thermosphere is not, technically, outer space; the boundary with the exosphere lies a good 60km higher up. It is, however, empty. Nothing shields you from the vastness of the universe, except a minute handful of speeding oxygen molecules. Below, the entire world spreads out, the very definition of horizon to horizon.

This is space shuttle country, folks.

Teleporting so high presents unique challenges and opportunities. In near-vacuum, there is no mass to shunt aside, thus easing the transition. On the other hand, the conservation of energy plays havoc with your balance, creating, for the first time in Quantum’s meager experiences with his abilities, the sensation of drag on the journey. The significant drop in gravity he experiences makes him shed energy as friction. Though Quantum’s teleportation is instant, a narrow column of disrupted air surges upwards, reaching this point in the atmosphere many minutes after his departure. Teleportational jetwash, if you will.

The floating stars of central New York at night transmute to their literal versions.

Almost instantly, a sense of beatific harmony washes up within you. Though you can’t even begin to comprehend the mechanism that creates a shell of virtual pressure, keeping your blood from boiling in the semi-vacuum, and yet lets your much needed air escape, you scarcely care. Even as Devolution’s hands release your throat and he begins wildly scrambling in the air, held aloft only by your flight field, all you can think about is the wonderful, cosmic oneness of this place. For an aeon, you study the beauty of oxygen molecules colliding with your field. At this altitude, each molecule absorbs vast energy from the sun, and is heated to nearly 1500 degrees kelvin. With so few partners to colide with, they have no way to shed that heat. Thus, they strike your aura with the force of red hot bulelts travelling at hundreds of kilometers per hour. Splashes of brilliant orange colour the purple plasmatic corruscations.

Unfolding matter into a vacuum, the blossom of a quantum chrysanthemum.

You only fade back into awareness when Devolution flings himself at you, harder than before, and wraps his skinny frame around you. You stifle a horrified reaction at his desperation; by bringing himself into such close proximity to you, you can see his body literally comming apart at the subatomic level, shredded valance level by valance level, strong nuclear force bonds comming apart and particles evapourating into nothingness as they are bombarded by the laws of physics from alien dimensions.

Nevertheless, he clings on for dear life. His psychotically, but still humanly, strong hands lock around your neck, this time intending to snap bone, not choke. In the international language of murder, his meaning is clear: Take me back with you, or perish.


OOC: You needed to spend a hero point to reroll your Teleportation power roll, in order to overcome Devolution's save.
  #28  
Unread 14th of March, 2005, 06:32
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Bolt
HP: 5/5. Status: Oh the angst of it all.... Unhurt.

Ryan pauses for a few seconds shifting his gaze between Trisha and the Old man. It was obvious that he was a pretty big influence on her, which was probably a good thing. He seemed like a good man and neither he nor the rest of these people deserved to be brutally slaughtered just because they didn't fit in... Let alone it being the police that's doing it... it can't be the whole police force though, this has to be a handfull of rogue cops possibly supported by a few higher up in the department...

How corrupt has this world become? Is everyone out for there own benifit?

Ryan's mind staggers under the thought that no one cares about anyone then themselves, why fight when the whole world is against you. The darkness in his mind swells, attempting to draw him into its back folds where nothing mattered but his own misery...

"We do what's right not because of any reward but because it's right... even when it seems pointless."

Elizabeth told him that when they found an abandoned puppy on the side of a dirt road. She took it home and comforted it, cared for it and when it died a few days later, cried for it. He never really understood until this moment...

"You don't need to beg," He says quiety, his hand touching the locket under his dirty second hand shirt. "I will help in any way I can. But I don't see how I be of any use. You have other novas here, why don't you fight back?"

He pauses for a moment. "There are others that might help, the ones that are held by the Centinals, if we free them they might help us."
  #29  
Unread 14th of March, 2005, 17:08
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The Mechanic
HP: 9/9, Status: Trying to keep the crazy doctor from getting herself killed... and unhurt.

Roberts eyes widen as realization snaps his focus from all the puzzles and mystery surrounding him and lock his attention on the door.

"Doctor LaCroix... STOP! What are you doing? Talk to me!"

He starts moving towards the sealant doors.. AHH this suit is TOO DANG heavy... I can hardly move in it... On the plus side with its weight on my side I shouldn't have any problems... keeping the door closed.

Robert blinks, shakes his head... and the Mechanic opens his eyes...
She's panicking for a reason.. but not responding over the radio... or am I just not hearing it? Could the radiation be interfereing with my communications gear? Okay... what do I have.. I've only got the analysis gear I managed to get attached to the suit... nothing useful unless I've got some tools to hand or my gear.... which is nice and safe in the Army locker down the hall.......
Damn.
Right.. just have to hope I've got more folks listening in...


"Dr. Sachs!!! Col. Vanderman!! Somebody get in here.. Dr. LaCroix is trying to breach the containment zone!!! Can anybody hear me?!?" he shouts into his mic, hoping for an answer...
  #30  
Unread 14th of March, 2005, 18:05
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Quantum
Status: HP 4/5; free-floating, enlightened, endangered.

Perception brings about enlightenment. Enlightenment fosters understanding. Understanding invokes compassion. Compassion engenders pity.

Quantum looks down at his opponent's furious, yet frightened visage. He can make out beads of moisture -- sweat -- forming on the man's face, almost instantly freezing in the subzero temperatures. It's only the traces of heat radiating through the threshold keeping the interior from being instantly, fatally cold.

As Devolution's hands clutch at his neck, Quantum reaches one hand up, and places it on his shoulder. Nodding, and smiling an enigmatic smile that speaks volumes, he looks to the side, at the blue planet slowly rotating below.

Abruptly, warmth, and -- most importantly -- air flood the field. It's gotten darker, as the starlight is masked by cloud cover and the variety of pollutants mankind has spilled into the atmosphere. Nearby, the lights of the city can be seen, an electric array of lines, circles, and random constellations. Directly below, no lights can be seen, except for the glint of moonlight over water.

The distance is impossible to measure accurately with the unaided eye, but it is clearly at least a mile. Quantum, his eyes glowing bright amethyst, gives Devolution a determined stare. The message, unspoken as was Devolution's, is clear. Kill me, and fall to your death.

Quantum's hands clutch those around his neck, but not tightly enough to prevent movement. No resistance is given should the brute release himself, or move out of the confines of the sphere.

(OOC: Can't grapple back and move far enough at the same time. Let's see if the guy actually cares about his own life. Here's his chance at redemption.)
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  #31  
Unread 15th of March, 2005, 06:28
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Wreck
HP 5/5, I ain't got time to bleed. 2 lethal hits.

It's been months, maybe years, since he's taken a beating like this. And if you ignore the blood, pain, and vague worry of permanent scarring, it's almost a welcome experience. Unfortunately the blood and pain are very much present and there's also the factor of missing teeth. As Tracy pushes himself off the ground, he dimly wonders if his regenerative capabilities cover dental. If his body is anything like his insurance, it won't.

That didn't work. He spat out some blood and possibly a tooth while extracting the rusty spike from his side. He cast it aside and wiped the crimson out of his eyes with a sleeve. Hitting didn't work and grabbing didn't work; Tracy's playbook is just about empty. X hasn't been gone a minute and Tracy's already on the ropes. His mind strains to be inventive, and it succeeds, almost.

His meaty fists reach down and take hold of the rail running through the trench, with a grunt he tears part of it out of the track and holds it like a makeshift staff.

"Come on then, geek. I ain't no nun. You're gonna have to do better than that."

((OOC: Rip some of the rail out of the ground, ready an action to trip Maim if he gets within reach))
  #32  
Unread 17th of March, 2005, 16:42
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The Mechanic

You lumber over and lean your weight against the inner door. There’s no way she’ll be able to open it now, you hope. Dr LaCroix doesn’t respond to your questions. In fact, she doesn’t say anything at all. And all that runs through your mind is dosage levels, gamma ray penetration figures, bequerels over time...

The fragility of the human genome in the face of a nuclear firestorm.

About a minute later, the colonel and several soldiers burst into the chamber, wearing lead-lined white plastic ponchos. “Doctor...?” Vanderman says tentatively, carefully stepping forward. She doesn’t answer him either. She keeps twisting and pushing at the wheel on the inner door, striving to get it open against your efforts to hold it closed. Vanderman glances at two of his men, and nods them forward.

The two men each grab one of LaCroix’s elbows, and pull her away from the water-window. The pressure on the door releases, and the soldiers drag her unresisting form into view.

LaCroix looks up at you, her eyes welling with emerald fire.
  #33  
Unread 17th of March, 2005, 16:43
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Bolt

Old One Eye gives a soft sigh, seeming relieved and disappointed at the same time. It’s the sound of a man so steeped in world-weariness that he has learned to take anything Fate deals out with resignation.

“It is not our way to fight. It has never been our way.

“There... are some amongst us with gifts, yes. You met Nicolette, I think. Were it not for the price her powers elicit from their beneficiaries, she would have a great career as a healer in the world above. There are others... but many, their gifts are weak, not suited for battle or protection or escape. And those that do have powers as strong in conflict as yours...” he rolls his monocular gaze to Prophet, standing behind you, “...there would be many deaths amongst our own number, if they fought.”

“Years ago, we had a Sanctuary to which we could flee. Catacombs, deep beneath the city, where the water was pure and friends could supply us with food. Alas, the way there is lost, now...”

Prophet suddenly breaks in here, his voice soft but deep. “Dark magic stands between us and Sanctuary.”

A rustle of dread passes through the mole people.
  #34  
Unread 17th of March, 2005, 16:44
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Osprey

... or not!

You can’t help but think that there’s no place like home as your feet click together, tucking in enough to escape the noose. You levitate up about a foot in the process, bringing you into eye level. You think you catch an iota of grudging respect in that dark, focused gaze.

OOC: Your action, as burning that HP for a reroll is of course a freebie.

Last edited by Dirigible; 17th of March, 2005 at 19:05.
  #35  
Unread 17th of March, 2005, 19:05
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Wreck

”Yeah? We’ll see how much of a nun I am when I jam that piece scrap up your... oof!”

Bloated on overconfidence, steroids and crackling red energy, Maim is unprepared for the force of your swing. You catch him in the knee as he steps towards you, and you hear the bone give a nasty crack. The rail itself bends like a shepard’s crook.

”Yaaaaargh!

The freak falls flat on his back in a sprawl of deformed limbs, his comparatively tiny head smacking on the concrete. With a growl, he slowly clambers back to his feet. Your former comrade fixes you with the ole’ psychout stare. The looks in his eyes says ooooh yeah, you’re gonna pay for that one...

But you didn’t get where you are by bending to pressure.

OOC: Wreck fails to be intimidated.
  #36  
Unread 17th of March, 2005, 19:37
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Quantum

A study in contrasts.

Calm. Frenzied. Regal with power. Bestial with force. The shining future. The slavering past.

Borne aloft on wings of plasma. Plummeting to his death.

Whatever dire will drives Devolution seems to be no nearer depletion than when he began. You realise that he may be simply incapable of relenting. Everything extraneous has been pared away form his brain; mercy, compassion, humanity. All that is left is a gleaming arrow of ferocity and unswerving intention. Through surgery, he has become the perfect scion of Nietzche; the superman who makes the universe give way by hitting it with unbounded will.

Ultimately, he can never be defeated: he can only die.

The spirit is infinitely strong, but the flesh is mortal. His fingers are nothing more than shreds of skin, like empty gloves torn to ribbons in a thresher. Gashes spontaneously open along the Master of Monstrosity’s arms and legs, the tissues degrading as they age and oxidise at ten thousand times the normal rate. Threads of skin tear themselves away form his body, curling off into the air as fractal-edged ferns, severed by the warping and folding of space-time itself.

Finally, Devolution simply has nothing left to hold on with.

“No... no... my children!” The thin, cold air turns this into a whispery shriek as he becomes disentangled from your personal gravity field. The stronger embrace of the Earth swamps him, and the scrawny, bloody mess tumbles away, vanishing into the clouds below. In moments, even his howl of infinite loss is gone.
  #37  
Unread 18th of March, 2005, 06:41
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Quantum
HP 4/5. Status: Winded.

Quantum knew the effects of his power could degenerate objects which came into contact in a hostile manner; what he hadn't known was the effects of long-term exposure. Not something he relished the idea of repeating, and something he would definitely have to talk to the think-tank about, back at the Centinels Building.

In the meantime, there's still work to be done.

Relocating it from memory, he finds the amphitheater's array of lights in the darkness, and sends himself there. Meteoric was in bad shape when he left, and there were those other two Novas to worry about.
  #38  
Unread 19th of March, 2005, 10:22
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Bolt
HP 5/5 Is quick enough to take a hint - unhurt


Sometimes being the good guy really sucks. If you're the bad guy then you wouldn't have to care about people and there feelings. He could just walk away and forget about them...

But he wasn't like that, these people mattered. Someone had to stand up for them, besides if he ignored this Elizabeth would never forgive him.

"How can I help you find your way back to your Sanctuary? What blocks your path?" He tells the old man as he glances over at Trisha.
  #39  
Unread 20th of March, 2005, 12:59
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Quantum

This time, you slide down the gravity well.

In doing so, your warp field draws energy in from the air surrounding the imaginary downwards path of your transition. With one column of air rising and another falling, the net result is a very mild cyclone that sends waves of frosty wind howling around the city in a gradually spreading ring.

You reappear on the roof of the auditorium in a display of crackling light. As you’re not actively using the field to hold yourself in the air or teleport, you notice the chill immediately. Glancing around, you grin as you see your jacket, lying where it must have fallen when you responded to the attack. You retrieve it, and pause a moment to glance over the edge of the building. The crowds below have grown; most of the building must have been evacuated by now, and the emergency services are in attendance. You shift into the building itself.

Things seem to have calmed down. Without the aggravating presence of Devolution, people have regained their wits, albeit in a dazed fashion. A SWAT team tries to fit two bullet-riddled neanderthals into a normal-sized body bag; more police stand guard over creatures that have been wrapped in nets and one that just squats with its head on its knees, looking peaceful but confused. You hear someone call out, only half jokingly, that he hopes animal control gets here soon.

Nevertheless, the place is a mess. Chairs have been torn up and scattered, blood and torn clothing smear the floor, and a pervasive stink of cat-pee and sewage remains in the air.

The two ‘helpers’ stand a short distance from the stage, apparently talking until you burst in with a thunderclap and flash of purple lightning. The Hispanic woman is short and curvy, her black hair pulled into a pony tail away from the white domino mask with a black half-circle emblem on her forehead. She has a thoughtful expression, with more than a trace of surprise. The Caucasian man is very broad across the shoulders and rather chubby, with short red hair and beard. Large metal wings, folded against his back at the moment, connect to a high-tech vest covered in dials, screens and wires. He wears a large belt with many pockets and pouches, not unlike the one you’ve seen the Mechanic use. He’s panting just a little, and his mouth forms an ‘O’ as you reappear.

From the far side of the stage, there’s a smashing noise as a large amplifier topples over and breaks. A painful groan turns into an angry growl as Meteoric rises from his impact crater. His lower legs flash with flame as you leaps through the air, landing unsteadily a few meters away. Once arm hangs weakly at his side, and he throws out the other for balance - then winces, and clamps that arm against the bloody tear in his pectoral.

“Where...” he pauses, and spits out a piece of wood from the set. “Where’s... the psycho?”
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  #40  
Unread 20th of March, 2005, 13:22
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Bolt

Trisha’s brow creases into a frown of concentration as she listens to the One Eyed Man. After a moment, she fumbles around behind herself for a cardboard box to rest against.

“Once...” the leader of the mole people exposits, “Once, there was great passage we could use to get to our Sanctuary. But several years ago, the Overcity began to build a tunnel of their own, one that would cross from Manhattan to Long Island, for traffic to go under the rivers. When it came time to open the tunnel, though it was attacked... by a monster called Ritual.”

Trisha mumbles a non-verbal note of recognition. You’ve heard of him, of course; the so-called Master of Sorcery, the only metavillain to claim to be a magician in over fifty years. Whatever the nature of his powers, and their were many theories, he traveled to many different parts of the world over his long, sporadic career, with apparently no aim beyond spreading chaos, stealing ‘mystic artifacts’ that took his fancy, and building a reputation of unadulterated evil.

“The road tunnel collapsed when he began weaving his spells... many of your people died. When it collapsed, it brought down the passage we used, that ran below it. Your people presumed he was killed in the cave in.” Old One Eye sighs. “We could have cleared away the obstructions, given time and man power, but something lingers in the passage... something evil.”
  #41  
Unread 22nd of March, 2005, 03:30
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Osprey
HP: 4/5; Status: Normal, Unhurt


'Interesting...I'd thought she'd play for keeps. She probably could have shot me with dart or something, that'd be more efficient than trying to tie me up.' Not for the first time does Osprey wish he'd kept with the stick as a weapon; the blade was more compact and efficient, but he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea that it was too easy to kill with. He still hadn't deliberately killed anyone, although crippling wasn't out of the question, and would just as soon reserve that dubious honor for O'Malley. He wonders if that would make any difference to her.

As surely as if he stood on solid ground, he corkscrews up and forward in a tight, 720-degree horizontal spin, tucking the knife back in its sheath as he did. His limbs unfold gracefully as he "lands", still airborne, and begins the repeticion, a close, quick style of attacking that relies on precise movements and high aggression. 'Can't outrun her, probably can't outmaneuver her...this isn't going to be fun...'


Applying Dodge and Aerial Combat to Defense, raising it to 25. I'm assuming that "not 10 feet away" means I can get within range with a 5-foot step, so I'm using Rapid Strike; both attacks are at +8, unarmed damage is +4S. Second strike is a Disarm.
  #42  
Unread 22nd of March, 2005, 11:30
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Wreck
HP: 5/5. Considering becoming a shepard. 1 lethal hit.

He's encouraged by the tactic. Every moment Maim isn't hitting him is a moment his body gets to recover. Even now he can feel the blood clotting on his battered face. The thug tries to scare him the same way Tracy intimidates normals in bars when he doesn't feel like breaking bones. What Maim forgets is that Tracy is brute force made flesh. Threatening him with a beating is like threatening to set an inferno on fire.

"Aw, bump your head?" He hefts the makeshift weapon, feeling more confident with the steel in his hands. "I'll make you forget all about it."

He springs into motion, flying just a few feet above the ground. He holds the giant crook like a spear and barrels toward Maim, but travels past him, as if misjudging the distance. Instead he tries to ram the hook around the psychopath's neck and twists the metal into a long, steel collar.

((OOC: I have no idea what this is mechanically. I guess it's technically a grapple. Basically Wreck's trying to choke Maim with the rail without letting the freak use his forehead as a weapon.))
  #43  
Unread 22nd of March, 2005, 15:41
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Wreck

The rail of course dents when it hits Maim, and it does end up in kind of a crook-shape around his neck. Once flex of those preposterous deltoids, however, sees it break like a candy cane.

”Right, you pussy little... ouch! Guhg?”

Maim staggers around in a half-circle, trying to feel something on his back. Those arms are so hypertrophic and inflexible it’s like a T-Rex trying to scratch an itch. As he turns, you see three metal spikes stuck into his flesh, a long coil of wire stretching form each one to a barrel of the triple-pistol in X’s hands.

“Remember, Maim. You brought this on yourself...” the mastermind’s electronically scrambled voice states matter of factly.

Then the three spikes activate. One blazes with blinding blue-white lightning that crackles down the wire from a capacitor in the gun. Maim howls in pain/pleasure at this, seeming to swell to greater heights.

The second emits a strange, subsonic humming noise. At this, Maim grunts and his eyes become unfocused. His arms go half limp and he stands, swaying slightly.

The third... his no visible or audible effect. However, something changes. You don’t know what, but sense something that was there before is gone, like a bubble around your head bursting. Your fingertips tingle oddly.

“Wreck, now! His defenses are disabled,” X barks.

OOC: Maim is stunned, amongst other things.
  #44  
Unread 22nd of March, 2005, 15:43
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Osprey

In agile defiance of the laws of gravity, you cork screw through the air and unfold right in the woman’s personal space in a blur of fists, elbow strikes and slam kicks.

You have never fought someone with whom you are so perfectly matched.

Your first blow, a closed fist that opens up into a surprise chop, she parries by driving her knuckles into your wrist. Unperturbed, you continue the repeticion with an forearm blow which masks a strike with your knee. She deceives your arm, robbing the blow of force by blocking it with hands kept flexible, making you waste your force on the air, and twists her slender hips so that she’s practically sitting on your knee for a second, rendering the kick ineffectual. Then, you see an opening. She isn’t ready to guard against your left hand...

She grunts as you smash your hand into her kidney, but doesn’t seem unduly harmed. Taking advantage of her momentary off-balance stance, you make a grab for her staff. She twists it competently out of your grip before you can tug it away. In the moment that you wrestle with the weapon, however, you realise that the difference in your physical strengths is so narrow you couldn’t slip a blade between them.

An incredulous look comes into those dark eyes. “Cassat?” She then says something in Mandarin that sounds very uncomplimentary. “Filth!

The female martial artist shakes her staff, and the weapon breaks into three segments, connected by short chains. Taking advantage of your proximity, she launches into a storm of fast swings with the flexible cudgel, forcing you onto the defensive with feint-kicks. Your mobility keeps her from being able to hit you with any force or sweep at your limbs, however.
  #45  
Unread 23rd of March, 2005, 04:19
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Quantum
HP 4/5. Status: Okay.

“Where...” he pauses, and spits out a piece of wood from the set. “Where’s... the psycho?”

"Dead," Quantum replies, then lets his field drop. "We went on a little trip, and it turned out to be a bad neighborhood for him." Putting on his jacket, he realizes that his clothing is all sorts of mangled -- seams are ripped, his sleeves and the cuffs of his trousers are slightly shredded, and one of his shoes is missing. With my luck, it's out making its way through space. If so, I hope the Hubble telescope spots it. Let NASA chew on that.

He's no medic, but he makes a point of checking Meteoric for obvious injuries, to see if he needs urgent help. As he does, he addresses the other hero-types. "Now that the festivities are over, you two mind introducing yourselves? And please, close your mouth; you're gonna draw flies if you keep gaping."
  #46  
Unread 23rd of March, 2005, 07:03
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Kaos
Ghast

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Bolt
Hp: 5/5 <insert witty banter here> unhurt

The funny thing is when he first decided to take the job with the Centinels that his life would get somehow easier. Defeat some bad guys, save people, get his head straightened out, get his life back together...

Now in a few short weeks he was wearing dirty second hand clothes, living in the sewers, on the run from not only the law but the very company that had hired him in the first place, with a women that he was attracted to and she was more then likely was just using him for her next big story. And now he had come into contact with a bunch of mole people that saw him as some sort of knight in shining armor that was supposed to get rid of some "evil" thing and deliver them to Sancuary, or he could walk away from them and have them all brutally gunned down just because they didn't fit in with normal society...

Was it so bad to want a normal life?

Ryan sighs again and runs his hand through his hair, he can't see most of them but he can feel them looking at him, all those people who's hopes all depend on what he does. Its not the first time he has wondered why so many people seem to depend on him. He closes his eyes and for a moment sees Elizabeth's face smiling at him, she was always willing to do the right thing, how can he not do the same.

"I'll do it," He says quietly "but if something happens to me I want your word that you will at least try and help Trisha clear her name."
  #47  
Unread 23rd of March, 2005, 11:33
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Dirigible
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Quantum

"Couldn't a happened to a freakier sonova... ow! Quit it, man! I'm fine." Meteoric pulls away, rubbing the gash and wincing. "Freaky old bastard... nowhere near strong enough to hurt me, but it was like he was so focused he just cut through my invulnerability."

He offers you a muscular hand and grins. "You're all right, Bug-Zapper Man. Listen, you got things held down here?" Meteoric turns his head, surveying the clean-up and first aid operations. "I gotta go find someone to stitch this up, then I need to find my sister. Aiight?"

The hefty man closes his jaw with an embarrassed snap, and hurries up to you. “Wow!” he exclaims in a gruff voice. “You’re Quantum, right? Oh, man, I saw you on TV the other day... what an honour!” He grabs your hand and shakes it with a great deal of enthusiasm. “I’m... well, I go by Daedalus. I do... well, gadgets and stuff. Nothing like the Mechanic, but... hey, you’ve met him, right? Here, I’ve got this thing I wanna show you...” he starts fumbling around in his belt, sending several odd-looking metal gizmos skittering to the ground.

The woman looks somewhat abashed, and waves slightly in greeting. “I’m Eclipse. I suppose you could say I’m an empath.”

Meteoric shakes his head slightly, and you catch him muttering under his breath: “Was I ever this green?”
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"When I read Grey's Anatomy, my mouth waters. Does that make me a bad person?"
  #48  
Unread 23rd of March, 2005, 12:03
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Refusing to Sow [Epic GM]

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Wreck.
HP: 5/5. Feeling strangely fine. 1 lethal hit.

Maim courses with electricity, writhing both in pain and ecstacy. His muscles flexing uncontrollably, he begins to moan in his decidedly creepy manner. But this lasts for but a scant moment before the subsonics hit him. Tracy squints but can't see the effect. The third blast is the least flashy and most disturbing. He doesn't see a thing, but the hairs on his arm stand up in silent protest. Whatever it is, Tracy doesn't want to be hit by it.

X yells at him to take his shot and Tracy doesn't need to be told twice. Besides, he owes Maim one for bashing in his face.

He crosses the distance in a few short strides and delivers a haymaker with every ounce of force he can muster.

((OOC: Power Attack +5))
  #49  
Unread 23rd of March, 2005, 13:09
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GusPorterhouse
Vampire Spawn

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Osprey
HP: 4/5; Status: Normal, Unhurt


Sometimes, he wishes he could just watch. Detach his visual consciousness and let his body keep on going, see if it really looked as impressive as it felt. Rob knew that he was a good fighter, possibly even an excellent one, even though he often denied it to his own face. One did not scrap as often as he did without skill and talent, not if one expected to survive. He trained, he practiced, he abused himself until his reflexes were swift and his forms were perfect, until every last muscle in his body had been drilled to within an inch of its life. It was the only edge he had within the coven of 'superheroes' he had thrown in with; in all other respects, one or the other of them exceeded him by a usually wide margin, but this was something he had made for himself. He might not be head and shoulders above any of the others, but this was his niche, carved out with sweat and pain and callouses.

And to meet--even to fight--one like himself was exquisite. It was combat in its purest form, skill tested against skill, the 'art' in 'martial arts.' For a moment he loses himself in the flow, he and Red Hare almost dancing on the rooftop as they matched each others movements. It was a contest that few would understand. Part of him didn't want it to end, wanted to ignore the fact that they were genuinely trying to pummel each other.

'Cassat?' She hissed at him. He didn't know the word, but it was probably something dirty in Mandarin, like 'goat-lover' or 'licker of cat droppings.' He'd have to ask Master Fong about it later, he knew some Chinese. Whatever it meant, saying it seemed to spur her on to a higher level of aggression; in less time than it would take to tell, the short staff transformed into sanchaku, which she immediately tried to apply to his skull. 'Jeez, does the damn thing send email and heat cheese for nachos, too?' He pinwheeled his arm around as she tried to snare it in one of the joints, twisted inside of the weapon's range and aimed a stiff backhand at her jaw. 'I should really pay attention here.'


OOC: Continuing with the repeticion, again using the second attack to Disarm.
  #50  
Unread 23rd of March, 2005, 13:36
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Dirigible
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Bolt

An exhalation of relief passes through to homeless crowd, like a breath they didn’t know they were holding has been released. Murmurs of joy mixed with trepidation rustle through the cramped cavern, reverberating off the metal pipes that plunge through the ceiling and catching in the slimy puddle on the ground.

“Thank you, Bolt.” Old One Eye says simply. “Prophet can show you where the tunnel is. Via con Dios, my friend.”

The skinny, otherworldly looking Prophet beckons to you, and starts to move off through the crowd. You and Trisha stand, and the mole people stand aside, some reaching out as if to touch you in an unsettlingly worshipful gesture. You glance at Trisha, and she seems to see something in your eyes, and shakes her head.

“I’m coming with you, Ryan.” She gives you an impish smile, highlighting the brightness in her eyes. “I’ve covered enough super-fights to know how to keep my head down, don’t worry.

As you pass amongst them, the air seems to lighten a bit. Instead of the ground-down despair of people with nothing to lose but their lives who feel themselves inevitably pushed towards extinction, there are smiles, glimmers of hope, and words of encouragement.

You see Prophet waiting patiently for you. He looks as if the whole world could turn around him and he’d never notice. Next to him stands the eerie girl-child with the healing touch, Nicolette. As you approach, she hands a plastic Teletubbies drink bottle covered in translucent goo to the tall black man. Seemingly unfazed by the stuff (maybe it only hurts when it works, you think), he wipes it on his coat and offers it to you.

“Don’t drink it,” Nicolette warns solemnly. “Bye bye, Bolt.”

You can’t but hope that that isn’t as final as it sounds. Almost as if she can sense your pessimism, Trisha gives your hand a squeeze.
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