Burning_Brawler_NA

What would you say to the idea of Sonic animations that are less screams and more as if they were sung?

This sounds like a lot of fun. I do disagree with the idea of putting together a roster however. Having to wait for a specific person to post may not be a problem initially, but after the first week or so, the chances of the thread dying because someone has been unable to get on the forums (such as myself this past week) become much greater.

In Maria's new arc, they inform you that Shadowhunter (Praet Woodsman) was killed in the wild by the Devouring Earth.

The sun shone brightly that morning, almost obnoxiously so. Caleb had just arrived at the meeting spot in Kings Row, at which he found a truck surrounded by several Freedom Corps. agents. The boy stepped up to one familiar face, a relative rookie to it all, just like himself. "Hey Scott. Thanks again for the tip. What's up?"

"Not much," he replied, moving toward a dolly stacked with three crates. "Like I said over the phone, it's an easy job. Some heroes cleaned this cave of Circle of Thorns out and now there's a bunch of artifacts left behind to be catalogued and delivered to M.A.G.I." When Scott seemed to be having difficulty getting the load up the ramp, Caleb moved to help shoulder it and finish getting the last of the shipment in place. "You, being lucky enough to just have to guard the damn truck, didn't have to be here with an Ancient Mu to English translation book to figure out the titles of all those books... I never want to see another archaic glyph for as long as I live."

"But how are you gonna write your mom then?" said Caleb with a smirk. The comment earned him a half-hearted swat from Scott, but it was clear by the man's laugh he meant no harm.

"Alright ********, get in the truck," the Freedom Corps. soldier said, taking a seat alongside the walls of the vehichle. "We get to hang out in here while the Eagles take the aerial watch." Caleb nodded, taking the seat opposite Scott. He tugged on the belts holding the crates back and away from them, wanting to make sure there wouldn't be any crushing surprises when the truck began to roll.

"So how many are actually guarding this shipment anyway? Didn't seem like all that big a detail."

Scott shrugged. "Six, or so, if you count the driver. There's a Warden riding in the passenger seat with him, a pair of Eagles keeping watch from above, yourself and then, most vital of all, yours truly." Caleb nodded, looking out the back of the truck. Just then the Warden stepped around from the side to shut the back door.

"You fellas gonna be alright in here?" he asked, looking to each of them.

"All set," said Caleb, with a less than enthused smile and thumbs up. The door came rolling down and they were sealed in. Some faint, flourescent lights flickered on above them. "Oh good, we actually can see this time."

"Score one more for the little guy," Scott added with a chuckle, looking around-- though of course there wasn't much to look at. "Don't worry, bud. It's Kings Row to Atlas; this won't take long." There was a slow rumble before the truck began to move forward. The next few minutes passed in a slow silence. "So... you still live in that hole in the wall?"

Caleb was staring off as he replied a simple, "Yup."

"I know I've mentioned it before but... you could come move in with me. There's another room that's not being leased at my place. And it's a lot more comfortable than what you're in now."

Caleb turned to study Scott's face. This was easily the fourth time the suggestion had come around, though this was easily the most direct one yet. He wasn't quite positive why Scott was so set on the idea, but something in his gut told him to run from the idea. "Probably. But I'm fine where I am. It's cozy," Caleb replied, turning back to stare off.

Scott nodded, looking a little disappointed. Eventually, the Freedom Corps. rookie decided to lean back against the wall and tuck his chin to his chest for a small catnap. "Just wake me if Lord Recluse comes knocking," he said, crossing his arms and pretending to quickly fall into a rhythmic slumber.

Explanations for why Scott wanted Caleb to move out of his apartment continually swam through the boy's head, but he didn't like dwelling on them for long. He had found that on occassion, if he got too lost in odd thoughts, that sometimes certain abilities would get the better of him and someone would wind up hurt. Hell, I bet someone already has, he thought bitterly. That train was halted however when the truck made a hard stop.

Caleb and Scott both shot forward, crashing hard into the crates. Caleb hissed, rubbing a sore shoulder as Scott swore loudly. The Freedom Corps. soldier slammed his fist on the side of the truck yelling, "Watch the break checks, there's valuable cargo back here!"

"I know you're not talking about yourself," Caleb said, standing up and trying to stretch the very sore feeling from his back. "I don't think some bad driving could do anything to that face that nature didn't already."

Scott's face scrunched up as he replied, "Oh ha-ha. Listen, kid, if you-" His retort was interrupted by the sound of a hard thud behind him. Scott leapt forward, almost landing on top of Caleb. "Holy hell!" he shouted, trying to casually check that he didn't just pee himself. "Real funny you guys! Bang on the side of the van cause I called you out. Well how about I just-" A cry of pain slowed Scott's sentence. "Oh ****... Someone's after the cargo. Time to earn our money, bud." He moved toward the inside latch of the door, trying to pry it open. "God... it's stuck! Damn it, Frank! Who let the guy with super strength tighten this thing anyway?!"

Caleb rushed forward, reaching for the handle. "You're just not tugging hard enough, move!" He gave it several hard tugs, the sound of another cry of pain and the very audible crack of bone ringing out over the sounds of gunfire urging him on. Caleb tried to push a little psionic pulse behind his tugs, but it simply wasn't budging. "You weren't kidding... Don't tell me we're stuck in here!"

Scott shrugged, shaking his head. "I'm at a loss kid." He ducked in panic as a body landed hard on the top of the truck, denting the roof. "Get your pistols up. Only one thing we can do at this point," he said, tone grim. Scott reached for the rifle under his seat, looking it over thoroughly once in hand. He spoke low, hoping to not be heard outside. "When whatever's out there takes that door down, I'll put one between his eyes. You get low and aim for the middle. After that, get out of this truck. Better to fight in the open than pinned like this."

Caleb nodded, looking up as the echoes of the last gun were replaced with a howl. That too was traded for a sickening crunch and the sound of a limp body hitting the ground. For a few seconds, it was completely silent. But Caleb knew it was only a build to what was about to happen. There was a sound like thunder as the rolling door was truck and began to buckle. Sunlight peeked in from the sides where it had folded most, and the second slam widened those gaps. At the third, the door came away from the top of the truck, collapsing just in front of the pair and the shipment they guarded, but the assailant was nowhere to be seen.

Both heroes' eyes scanned the empty air, unsure. After a brief moment, Scott cursed under his breath. "Hop out of the truck. I'll cover and follow." Without taking his eyes off the space in front of him, Caleb nodded. He kept both pistols aimed straight out as he moved in his low crouch to the edge of and then hopped out from the truck. He looked all around for a sign of the attacker but found only a few of bodies of the others hired to guard the shipment, some looking much worse than others. There was a rush of air to Caleb's side that sent the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. He turned around to call a warning to Scott, but was too late. A black and white clad attacker appeared just as he struck the Freedom Corps. rookie in the gut, the force of the blow flinging him back and smashing through the first crates he came in contact with.

It took all of Caleb's self control not to fire wildly into the truck, more for fear of hitting something explosive or Scott than damaging the cargo. The assassin turned to stare him down through a pair of reflective sunglasses. Despite the cowl he wore, Caleb could see clearly that the attacker was no more than his own age. Frustration began to build up in him then as the other boy just stood there. "Well? Come on, you've taken everyone else, what are you waiting for? Let's go!" he shouted, pistols held at the ready.

The assassin seemed to snap back to attention and quickly sprung into action. As he faked to move to one side then leapt to another, Caleb couldn't help but try to follow the villain's movements, which got more difficult as he leapt off of one wall of the truck to the roof then sprung forward to tackle the hero. They rolled across the concrete, Caleb grimacing as surprisingly powerful hands gripped his wrists and twisted them in such a way that the pistols fell from his weakened grasp. He tried to bring a hand around to slug the assassin, but found himself sufficiently pinned as their roll stopped. It was then that Caleb got a real view of his attacker's face, the cowl having come loose and fallen during their tumble and the sunglasses now hanging askew on his nose and revealing a pair of bright, blue eyes. A sudden knee planted firmly in Caleb's gut brought about an explosion of lights and the twist of that knee turned those lots into dark blotches that melded together as he slipped into unconciousness.

--------------

Void Brawler stepped up and back from the downed hero. He quickly readjusted his sunglasses and cowl only just becoming aware that they had come away somewhat in the struggle. The boy knew that it would be smarter to kill him now and not risk being identified later, but the thought made him pause. Void Brawler grimaced, kneeling back down over the hero's unconcious body. He placed two fingers at the other boy's neck, finding a fairly steady pulse. The young assassin stepped back, shaking his head. Somehow, I'm going to end up regretting this..., he thought, before turning to the now free truck. In the distance, sirens were clear. The PPD were finally responding. Void Brawler knew he would only have a minute or two to get through all those crates to the things Blightlord wanted. Feeling for the trinket in his pocket that was supposed to tell him what those things were, he already knew there wouldn't be time to nab everything. I think I already am.

I was kind of surprised that after the addition of the new pets, there was nothing directly fire-related: imps, demons (either of the CoT or Bat'Zul variety), Igneous, etc. Perhaps in another update?

I think the big one that always makes me feel like a jerk by the end is Westin Phipps' Freakshow arc with Francine Primm. It would be a really sweet and sort of inner-city comedic tale if it wasn't for your villain busting in, slaughtering all the Freakshow who are just there to learn, and then kidnapping a helpless teacher who just wanted to do good. And to what end do you capture her? So she can be tortured until she's a broken shell of a woman and an example. That was the one time my villain really felt like a monster (though a lot of credit for just how depraved it all really is goes to Phipps' planning)

>.> He had it coming, really.

Yeah, the original idea was to do a forum sig banner, but as I started putting it together and especially once I found out how to throw that shadow up there, it became much more vertical than I originally planned. I agree about trimming the unnecessary side space while I'm showing it as just a picture. Also, glad you like the emote choices! Heh. I wanted to try to have something a little different and at the same time appropriate for each character.

As for the guy in the very back, I tried playing with the size of the characters to created a feeling of depth to the line-up. Ideally, I wanted him to seem to be looming from afar.

I noticed they were blending a little too much when I was fixing their edges, yeah. At one stage, I had used Sharpen on the hooded figure (my forum namesake) and it gave his gloves a little shine to them that helped distinguish where he stopped and the others began but it looks like I lost that somewhere along the line. I'll definitely be aware of that issue in the future.

Thanks for the comments guys, much appreciated. ^_^

I got a 30 day trial of photoshop yesterday and thought I would play around with some features to make something I had always wanted to splice together before, a character collage! These are just my "main" characters, the ones I play most often. If I get the urge and a little more skill, I wouldn't mind tackling a Rogues Gallery picture.

Basically I just took some "action screenshots" and then spliced the pictures together. I messed with different settings for each character in Photoshop, then slid them all together. Created a background and got my text from an online graphic generator.

Anyway, here's what my newbish self came up with!

I'm thinking what's happening here is it uses the same coding that Task Forces do. Players are always "members" of the task whether they're online or not unless they physically quit or are kicked. So that's why yours failed with 11 where others are reporting being fine with that number or fewer.

I understand the whole "slippery slope" dilemma, but there is a precedent already with Task Forces and there's two sides to look at this from. Currently, a Task Force will stay together as long as at least two players have not quit. That's why people can duo or solo them (provided the other person logged off, not quit). What I'm assuming is we have the same situation here on a slightly larger scale, where the number before a disband is upped to match the larger size of the task.

I'm sure the Devs are well aware that certain groups and players would try to see just how few people they really need to put up with to get through the trials, so they put a handy cap in place to ensure that players are required to, well, actually play. I think rather than demanding the limit be removed, we should question the actual number. 11 is just one below what it takes to start the trial and I agree- that's too easy for someone to willingly ruin for everyone. Perhaps it should be if the number drops below 8?

Beneath Paragon City there are many caves, caverns and lairs, but few so large as the one Void Brawler journeyed through now. Set not too far from the heroic capital of the world, the place was almost a city itself, filling an impossibly large cavern. Small buildings and great fortifications were populated with the horde of undead the resided beneath there. The mindless zombies shuffled aimlessly through the wide streets while more cunning Grave Knights took post at the defenses and Liches worked dark magic for their master in hidden circles. The air was fetid, and it was only through the grace of a charm on Void Brawler's person that he was able to walk through those passages without suffocating. Still, his cowl did little to mitigate the stench that assaulted his nose. An acquired tolerance was the only thing that kept him from retching with each step. The dark cavern was lit, though for whose benefit, Void Brawler didn't know, with a series of magically conjured lights, arranged along the streets and outside of buildings. Their glow rose high, but not quite high enough to reveal the cavern ceiling.

The place to which Void Brawler traveled sat in the center of the cavern. Like some horrific cross between a fortress and a mausoleum, the structure literally towered over any other building, it's black marble-like surfaces forming forboding shapes and casting an aura of dread as far as it was visible. The young assassin stepped inside, shuddering as he felt the many wards on the place passing over him. He looked out at the grand entry hall. Monolithic pillars lined the walkway up toward a series of great steps and a set of double-doors made of stone carved into ornate forms. Void Brawler walked along the deep green carpet that laid atop the marble floors, his footsteps eerily silent in the place.

But other sounds were there to fill the hole. The very walls seem to breathe, a low, rattling breath that always felt as if it were right over your shoulder, warm and moist yet with a lingering cold all at once. As Void Brawler came upon the stone doors, he couldn't help but wonder about the lack of guards standing nearby. It was strange at least, highly suspicious at worst. He pushed open the great doors just enough to slide between them. As he closed them he looked over the next room, wide and with several doors at each wall. Gone was the marble that had covered the outside and great hall interior. Now it was dark stone, glistening with a moisture whose origins the boy was sure he would never care to know.

At this point, any intruder or heroic interloper would begin a trek that would surely get them lost or killed, but Void Brawler was neither of these things. He moved with confidence to one door, then up a spiraling staircase, then through several more rooms, moving higher and higher in the great Mausoleum. He eventually came to his destination, a simple room bearing no decoration on its walls. Instead, at its center, there was a summoning circle, lines drawn not with chalk or with blood but with a hardened ooze, green and black and somehow seeming to be shifting ever so slightly. Candles sat at various points around it, illuminating the various runic shapes traced inside of it. Void Brawler stepped over these lines, taking a place in the center, and waited.

After a moment, the candles flickered; there was a faint hiss as the ooze began to expand, filling the entire circle. The boy stood calmly as it drew close to his planted feet. It filled the space beneath him and he dropped through.

The ooze deposited him out of a wall into another chamber, this one large, circular. At its far back wall, there sat a great mirror, created of the same hardened substance that formed the circle. It's outer edges twisted into menacing points and spirals, and where it did not end in points, it appeared twisted, gnarled. Its glassy surface showed not a reflection of the room but of a man wandering through a Council base, his massive fists plowing down atop fascist heads as he came upon them. Another man, if he could be called that, stood in front of the mirror, observing the action carefully. He did not turn around at the sound of Void Brawler's entry, did not acknowledge him in any way.

The boy waited patiently at the other end of the room, head bowed, until the figure waved his hand in front of the image, dismissing it and returning the mirror's surface to that of the room it sat in. He turned around then, showing himself. His skin was ghostly pale with more of a gray hue than anything else. The flesh on his face was partially rotted and he wore a sort of ventilator over his nose and mouth, around which the faint signs of more rot could be seen. His body was encased in more of that hardened ooze and it glistened even in the dim lighting of the room. Toxic green veins coursed along his legs, arms and chest, the liquids always flowing through them and out to various appendages. He wore great black skulls upon his shoulders, great spines rising beside them. His belt was a twisted spine of more of the hardened substance, various black, leather pouches dangling from it. His gloves and boots each sported a trio of spikes similar to Void Brawler's though their purpose was somewhat more sinister. His cape was almost invisible, shredded as it was, yet somehow holding all together in a wispy mass. The very air around him seemed to be filled with a tinted, green aura of noxious power. Blightlord cast his slate colored eyes on the boy, eyes ever filled with malice and contempt. "You are late," he spoke, his voice deep, raspy and cold.

"I'm sorry. I beg forgiveness," said Void Brawler, eyes still focused firmly on the floor. He wondered for a moment if Blightlord would kill him this time. To some extent, he honestly wished he would.

Blightlord watched the boy for a moment before speaking. "If you cannot be counted on with your own will as your guide, I will be forced to replace it." The master of undeath walked forward then, away from the mirror and toward the center of the room, raising a hand as he did so. The floor's center rose with him, forming a round dais, several steps high. He climbed each step that rose to meet his foot, coming to a throne that finished its ascent just as he placed an arm atop its resting place. He sat back then, waiting.

Void Brawler knew Blightlord was expecting him to explain himself so he could then tell him how little the excuses meant to him. But this was a game they had gone through countless times and the boy felt just bold enough to see how things would play out if he acted differently. After an uncertain silence that seemed to last an eternity for the boy, Blightlord spoke. "Your task is a simple one. There is a collection of artifacts to be delivered to the M.A.G.I. 'vault'." Blightlord chuckled at his own mention of the place. "For your delay, rather than giving you the simple task of breaking in once they are inside the vault, I am charging you with taking the artifacts before they reach their destination." Blightlord held out his open palm. The armor upon his hand began to stir, rising to form a small crystal. He hurled it toward the boy who easily caught it. "That will let you sort what I need from what is useless. Do with the heroes who guard it what you will, but I must have each of those artifacts I desire." Void Brawler nodded, turning to leave the way he came. "Do not fail me in this. I do not make threats for my own amusement."

The boy looked back to Blightlord one last time, noting the expression on his face as he sat there above him. There was no doubt in the young assassin's mind that Blightlord meant every word. And so he entered to oozing portal to begin his trek back to the surface.

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An alarm buzzed, signaling the arrival of noon. A boy shot up from his bed, the sound putting him on edge. His dark brown hair was all askew from his coma-like sleep, and he blinked hard several times before the room he sat in came to focus. "Caleb?" called a women's voice from downstairs. "Are you just now getting up?"

"No, ma'am!" he lied, climbing out of bed and nearly tripping over his clothes from the night before. "Just trying to get something out of my closet."

The voice called back, "That thing is a mess! We're cleaning it this weekend, okay? So no going anywhere on Saturday!"

Caleb Trumper sighed and shook his head, grabbing a towel from the small pile in the corner of his room. He hurried off to the bathroom across the hall, letting the warm water that ran down lightly tanned skin finish waking him up. He stepped out of the shower, tip-toeing back toward his room to get ready for the day.

"Well you must be hungry," said the voice. "Want me to make you a sandwich?"

"I'm good mom, thanks!" he called back down, pulling a red t-shirt over his head. He looked at himself in the mirror, dipping his hand into a small container of styling wax to do his hair.

"Don't forget, we're supposed to meet your father for dinner tonight. You need to be home by five!"

"Okay mom!" He brushed his teeth, put on some deoderant and headed downstairs. When he reached the bottom however, there was no one in sight. "Mom?" He looked in the kitchen, confused to find it empty. "Huh..." Caleb stepped outside, looking to see if maybe she had gone out for the mail. "Her car's still here. Where-?"

A crash back in the kitchen grabbed his attention. He ran back inside. "Mom, you okay?" He began to feel a sharp pain in his skull then. Caleb grunted, gripping the sides of his head as the pain brought him to his knees. He could feel his temples getting hot and he began to tremble. "No... no, not again!"

***

Caleb shot upward from the threadbare mattress he had been laying on, the sounds of an explosion still ringing in his ears. He was breathing heavily, sweat pouring over him as he fought to regain control of himself. His hand clenched the side of the mattress, fingers digging holes into the already thin material as he bit his lower lip, green eyes shut tight and trying to banish the images. In the back of his mind, he heard his mother's voice. 'And we have to send you away...' Caleb shook his head, trying to be free of the thought. His breathing slowed as did the sweat.

Frustrated, he threw himself out of the bed, padding with bare feet over to the dingy window of his one-room apartment. His only view was of the brick wall of the building next door but if he looked out that window and up, he could just barely see the moon's edge. It wasn't there, which told him it was nearly sunrise. "I guess I might as well get ready..."

He trudged over toward where his clothes from the day before lay. He picked up the pile, carrying it with him to the murky glass shower in the corner of his room. He stepped inside, shuddering for a moment as the cold water ran over him, making him tense up. He stepped back out after a few moments, looking at the small, cracked mirror that sat above the sink on his wall. He went through his morning rituals, using the little sunlight that was coming into the apartment now through the slatted windows around the top of its walls. He walked back towards the pile of clothes, using the jeans to dry himself before putting them on, then the red shirt, the black, cobra insignia on its front coiled and raised to strike. He slid on a pair of worn black shoes and slowly headed back toward the bed.

If he held any illusion that he would be able to get back to sleep, Caleb would have simply flung himself back onto that mattress, uncomfortable though it may be. Instead, he reaced under his pillow for a pair pistols and their black holster. Their shapes reminscent of old-western revolvers and perfectly kept, they were about all he had of value. He clipped the holster on and grabbed a slim, silver mask from beneath his pillow. He put it on, the mask only covering the area just around his eyes. Giving one final look toward the mirror, Caleb headed out the door, not bothering to lock it behind him. It was time for another "rewarding" day in the City of Heroes.

"Wait here..."

Swift Cut nodded at the empty air, the female assassin listening carefully for the sounds that had become very familiar these last few minutes. She clenched her hands tightly, not looking forward to hearing the sounds of former friends fall once more, but it had to be done. They had come after her. This was their choice, their fault.

She heard it then, that slight rush of air before the sickening pop of snapping bones, a body crumpling to the floor, the unreal, airy rushing sound of dark energies moving across their newest victim. There were a few other hurried grunts, the sound of a pair of fists rapidly slamming into a foreign body.

"All clear."

Swift hurried around the corner to see her escort standing over two more of her former comrades, two more either dead or seriously injured because of her. She looked up from them to her guide through the sewer, little more than a boy really. Perhaps seventeen with blonde hair cut short into a front-spiked haircut. His eyes and face were obscured by a pair of sunglasses and a black cowl. His costume was also largely black, spandex, with a long, white flame pattern that ran up his arms and legs. Both his gloves and boots were spiked in the back, clearly as an added weapon possibility. The belt around his waist held a jewel-like object in the center, but she knew that was more of a storage container. She had already seen him pull the odd, candy-like substance from it before an encounter. Swift could only assume it gave him some temporary boost. He had just begun to fade out of sight when she spoke. "Do we really need to do this, Void Brawler? Hurt them all, I mean. If you cover me, I'm sure we could both just sneak right by them all."

"You hired me to do this," he replied, unseen. To Swift's trained ear, she could hear a lot of trouble in his voice, more than she would have expected from one so young-- even in the Rogue Isles. "Besides, if we don't at least take these assassins, they'll kill you the minute you're in that sub and not my problem. Trust me and let me do this job my way."

Swift Cut nodded, though not happily so. These men and women were her friends at one time, her family even. And though they clearly no longer saw her as such, she still felt every strike on them as a personal sting in her chest.

The boy's voice called from ahead. "I think I see the exit up ahead. You're clear to move forward."

Cut looked out across the sewege, wondering at that moment if there really had been no better route to the submarine that would give her safe passage out of the Isles and into Paragon City. She glanced up at a set of piping and at a walkway a little way away that would get her across the room unmolested by the very suspiciously colored water. "Coming." Swift bent her knees, eyes locked on the pipe just overhead. Like a cat, she sprung upward, hands grasping it firmly. She was relieved to feel that it wasn't slimy and therefore a pretty secure purchase. The former assassin began rocking backward and forward, building momentum until she could swing herself onto the catwalk.

She landed softly on all four, not making a noise even on the rusted metal. She silently ran forward, leaping again off of one of the safety bars to the safety of the concrete walkway that led to the sewer grates. She smiled to herself, if just for that moment. For the first time since she had entered this sewer, Swift Cut felt she was making the right decision.

"So what will you do?" asked Void Brawler, still unseen. "Once you get to Paragon City, I mean."

In truth, Swift hadn't really thought that much of it. It was simply the need to get out of the Isles and away from her now murderous, former comrades that propelled her into dealings with the PPD. It was clear in the talks she did have that they would want something from her in exchange for the safe housing. But the idea of exposing the secrets of the people who had been her whole life for so many years was too much. "I suppose I'll take up hero work. I'll pay my dues to the city and... maybe get a real life back." She had never thought of it that way before. That she could have a real life, not always dabble in secrets. She could move freely through the world. Well, soon; first she would need to make it to Paragon City, prove her willingness to change.

Void Brawler didn't respond, merely opened the grate and stepped inside. "Count to ten, then come up after me," he said. She could hear the faint sound of flight as he rose upward through the piping. It was really very lucky that she had managed to get a hold of him. Despite his youth, he did have some reputation for being well-trained and thus able to spot some of the tricks common to the trade. Her ten seconds past, she hurried upward after her escort. She did to see a sight that stopped her heart.

Silent Blade stood across from Void Brawler atop a garbage float, eyes locked. Though neither held a weapon, the tension in their bodies made it clear that any moment that would change. "Sister!" Swift Cut called. "Don't do this!"

Silent's head turned toward the sound of the voice, all the opening Void needed to rush forward and thrust a shadowy fist firmly into the other assassin's abdomen. The punch lifted her off the ground ever so slightly and set her down on her knees. Quickly, she swung her legs around, taking Void's own out from under him. She rolled backward, drawing her sword in the same, fluid motion and held it at the ready. Void Brawler rolled back as well, standing in a low crouch, eyes watching her for some indication of where she would strike next.

"You have betrayed us sister," said Silent Blade, her eyes this time not leaving her opponent. "You know we only do what we must." Swift Cut shook her head, trying to shake the tears from her eyes. She ran to the edge of the platform that overlooked the battle. "And I will do what must be done. Once I finish this dishonorable coward."

Void Brawler wasn't goaded by her insult, choosing instead to let the shadows that enveloped his hands cover his entire body, stealing him from sight. Silent Blade's grip on her katana tightened then, taking the tension from the rest of her taut muscles as she listened for telltale sounds to give away his position.

She heard it then, the slight tap of foot on metal just behind her. She swung in a wide arc behind her, feeling a little resistance just before a pair of clasped fists came down on the back of her head. She stumbled forward, losing her balance and sprawling on the filthy ground. Void Brawler felt the not entirely shallow cut in his side, hissing a little at the discovery that it stung more to the touch. He hurried forward, this time watching for her to make a move to recover. And move she did, rolling over to throw a trio of shuriken his way.

Void deftly twisted as he moved, letting them sail right past him before he slid forward to straddle Silent Blade, pinning her to the ground. He said no words as dark energies coursed from him into the female assassin, then back, taking some of her life force with them. His wound knit back together, remaining only as a red line across his side. He gripped the back of the very weakened Silent Blade's head, preparing to smash it down into the solid floor of the garbage float and end this fight.

"Void, don't! You've won, she'll back down." The young assassin looked back to where his client stood, her hands clenched just below her chin, fear plain in her eyes for her sibling. He looked at her for a moment, then down at Silent Blade who already laid there, still. He sighed, letting her head simply drop on its own. Watching as the medi-port took her away. He heard Swift Cut padding along then, coming up behind him. "Thank you," she said, handing him a golden credit card. "Please, take all the funds you want. The entire account is yours. I don't want it anymore. It's all blood money, and it's the least I can offer you for all this." She smiled a little as she wiped a tear from her eye. "It'll be good to start completely over anyway. And I couldn't have done that without you. Come on, the signal for the sub is over this way."

She hurried toward a crate near the water, Void Brawler walking along behind her. "Your new life as a hero, right?"

Swift Cut looked back, still smiling faintly, a smile for the possibility of a better life. "Yeah; I almost can't believe it." She looked down at the signal in her hand and the button she just needed to press to begin her freedom.

She felt a pair of hands from behind wrap themselves firmly around her chin and the back of her head. Void Brawler's voice whispered softly in her ear. "I hate heroes." A tear blurred her view of the inactive submarine signal just before her vision was forced to the side and a sickening crack turned it all to darkness.

And what Raven says goes for any faction RP community, really (Boards, Unionverse, IC Teaming, etc.). A lot of the characters you'll meet will already have some established histories or relationships with others, so at first you might feel like you're on the outside of a sort of clique. But just like any group, if you're friendly and get along well with others, you'll find it's generally a very welcoming community.

Honestly, you wouldn't go wrong with either, it just depends on the type of RP you're looking to get into. Someone actually from Union could describe their style better, but it's very much a community that you come into. Check out some of their board threads since (I believe) they merge the progression of their stories with gameplay and board-writing.

Virtue, on the other hand, is more of the join a RP Supergroup crowd and you team with them in character, playing out the games stories that way as opposed to say, ones you or your friends are making up as you go along.

Oh- also, very much appreciated the shard drops that were happening during everything. Was hoping for them, but not certain it would happen. Thanks for having those!

The event went really well for me. At first, I was concerned about the lag while in Atlas and then got frustrated when I couldn't get into PI with the rest of my league (suffered a few disconnects). It looked like it was going to be like any other event of this time- a slideshow with some memorable chat moments but not a lot of real action being done by the individual player.

However

When things were announced to start happening in Steel, I immediately hopped over, figuring it had to be better than Atlas lag and once I had gotten settled in, it was really nice. Lag was minimal, if any at all. I could move, I could fire off attacks without delays or false recharge times. I was able to actually play there amidst a good couple dozen other players all doing whatever they pleased. We had a good time thanks to Beastyle (kudos!) who was great at playing along with us and though our only real major Praetor cameo was Marauder, it was entertainingly done and a nice fight all in all.

I don't know what exactly made doing this in Steel so much more effective than Atlas, but it was very enjoyable and I'm glad I stuck it out. Thanks to all of the RedNames who took control during the event and made it happen. It was a good time- I'll be sure to visit my alts on other servers for the rest of this month (including the final go on Freedom).

I'd like to B&M over the fact that I got hit with this ridiculous filter because an NPC I named Captain Altready is unacceptable- and why? Because "Captain A" is in the name. -.- Why do we need this filter again? I really have never run into serious copyright infringements in the large amount of time I've spent in the AE. All this filter is accomplishing is needlessly raising blood pressures.

Edit: I would like to add that, in spite (and because this is arc isn't supposed to go live anyway) I renamed the arc (because the title was in conflict) to something profane the filter wouldn't catch and renamed the NPC to Sergeant America. Not lying when I say I was surprised I could get away with America, but not the letter A.

Yup! The arc in my sig is filled with my own personal characters. You should all check it out

A little background:

So, I'm in the middle of auditions at my school right now and everyone was instructed to write a fairy tale to present in lieu of a monologue. I got to work looking up the elements of what makes a fairy tale part of the genre in contrast to other types of stories (especially fables). I then proceeded to write the thing and began to notice several influences bouncing around in the ideas I had. First of all, I found the ideas behind Going Rogue pulling at me- on whether or not there should be a clear cut good guy or bad guy; whether or not it was good to spark debate on the morality of the assumed hero of the story. Next, I found myself relating my two main characters to certain archtypes in City of Heroes- even if it's not so well represented that way within the story. After that, a lot of my imagery felt influenced by different powers and sets. As much as I tried to keep thoughts of Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk and Sleeping Beauty in my mind, the game kept creeping its way through. While I managed to keep the story at least set somewhere other than Paragon City, I'm curious if you can see any influence of this game in the story and what you think of it. It's to be recited by rough memory, so I apologize for it being a rough draft of the piece. I also tried to write in the phrasing of fairy tales (making some sentances a little longer than I feel comfortable and such) though I don't know how well that held up. Anyway, without futher tl;dr, here's:

The Story of Twin Brothers

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there sat a beautiful kingdom. And within this beautiful kingdom, was a noble family; a Father and his twin sons. Though both boys were handsome, good sons, the Father had always been more attached to the first born, for their mother had died birthing the latter. Because of this, the Father showered gifts and praise of promises of land and wealth upon the older boy. He was given the best training and became a mighty, bold and skillful Warrior. The second brother, younger by an hour, was given none of these things. His Father resented him, and thus the boy was left alone. Feeling like an outcast among the nobles, he spent much time among the common people, learning from them the art of wit, agility and guile. He saw the hardships they suffered through, and would often devise cunning plans to ease their suffering with his family's own wealth. Because of these things, he gained a nickname among the people: The Fox.

One day, the King announced a glorious content. He would challenge all the young men of the land to solve three tasks he had arranged on the outskirts of the kingdom. Each task would relinquish unto those who successfully completed them a key. Whoever had all three keys in their possession would then be able to ascend the tallest tower of the great keep and unlock the door behind which they would find the beautiful princess and ask her hand in marriage. The Warrior signed up immediately and received praise from his father. But when the Fox tried to do the same, he received only chastisement and ridicule and was locked away in his room. With only the sounds of his brother's taunting from the door to keep him company, The Fox determined to seek a better life. The Fox escaped into the street and signed his name upon the list of contestants.

And so they set out, each man given a direction and a riddle as to how the first challenge could be accomplished. After three days travel, The Fox came upon a wide, strong river whose only method of crossing was a set of stepping stones. Upon each stone was one of three pictures in a set of three-- that of a knight, a king or a princess. The Fox thought upon the riddle and its instruction to place faith in that which holds power over that which is before. Ever crafty, the Fox took a large stick and pressed upon the first three stones. The stone that held the picture of a knight and princess each sank into the deadly waters. As the Fox admired his cleverness, his brother the Warrior came upon him. "Good brother!" he said. "How fortunate that we have met so well and may solve this riddle together." Not wishing his brother any harm and with little other choice, the Fox agreed to be of help. He stepped lightly upon the stone of the king, taking his stick to prod lightly upon the next set of stones. When only the princess remained, he stepped upon that, and then the knight, and finally the shore with his brother following behind. Once safely across, a spirit of the river rose from the rushing waters to bestow upon each of them the first key, a riddle and the instruction to continue eastward. "We have done well together, my brother." said the Warrior who clapped a hand on the Fox's shoulder before hurrying off into the distance toward the next challenge.

Three days passed before the Fox came upon the next challenge. The riddle led him into a large cave, so far in that the sun's light had all but disappeared. He was to seek out the one source of light within the cave to receive the second key. As he pondered this, he heard his brother's voice coming from the entrance. "Good brother!" he called. "It is most fortunate we find each other in this darkest of places. Walk with me so that we might solve this riddle together. I have been here many hours and far too many men have since entered this cave and have yet to venture out." Knowing he would do well to aid his brother, The Fox walked to meet the Warrior. As he did, the sun's rays filled his eyes until he came upon his brother, nearly blinded. Inspiration struck then, and he continued his walk past his brother out of the cave, the bewildered Warrior behind him. Outside the cave, they were met by a spirit of the woods who bestowed upon each of them a key for their wisdom, another riddle and the instruction to continue east. "It is good we came upon one another here, brother," said the Warrior. "Else that cave surely would have taken you." He clapped his hand upon his brother's shoulder and was off.

Another three days passed before the Fox came upon the keep and the site of the final challenge. The ground split upon before him, threatening to swallow him whole. A spirit of the earth rose up before him with a challenge: die in honorable battle or sacrifice himself with a leap into the earth. The Fox knew he had not the ability to harm the mighty spirit, nor did he relish the idea of such a horrible death and thus was struck by an idea. "Oh great Spirit," said he, "I am not fresh enough for battle nor for your liking. Perhaps when you see me a second time, I will be better suited for your taste." Finding this agreeable, the spirit bestowed upon the Fox the third key with promises that there would be no place he could safely dodge this agreement-- as all men must eventually be swallowed by the earth. Some hours later, his brother came upon the keep as well and was taken in an instant.

The Fox passed through the keep's great gate, ascended its many stairs and reached the top of the tallest tower. He placed each of the three keys within their locks and opened the door in which the beautiful princess waited, asleep. Struck by her beauty, he stood a long while until she stirred. He presented himself on bended knee as she awoke.

And they lived happily ever after.

The End.

Agreed- base raiding was incredibly interesting to me. I think it could have done loads for Supergroups and PvP in terms of their usefulness and popularity. Don't get me wrong- I am very thankful to have SG teleporters and Workbenches and such, but I think there are plenty of now defunct SGs who would be alive and well still if they had something like raids to band together for.

I think from now on I'll wait to read the Producer Letters til after they've gone through your translator. Much more enjoyable that way!

On the CoH loading screen, the woman to the right of Statesman is Maiden Justice (if I remember correctly)