Dante

*Breathes out*

Phew! The best pranks are the ones that could be plausible...

Oh my...!

Is this just Controllers or Defenders as well?

Please tell me it's a bug...

Third Degree

Kings Row Warehouse - Then

Standing on top of a packing crate, Byrne looked down at the assembled rabble as they armed themselves. Having riled the group into a frenzy, it had been the right time to uncover the various boxes assembled around them, revealing numerous automatic weapons. They had grabbed them eagerly, ready to follow him anywhere. He disliked guns, but the people marching with him were not soldiers and they would need all the help they could get. The deal he’d brokered for the weapons had been a sweet one, securing him enough guns to equip his militia well. Once they had loaded up, he’d jumped to his current vantage point, ready to inspire them once more.

“People!” he cried, appealing to them, “You have taken the first steps to a new world! To reclaiming this sorry city for those who should rightfully run it, us! The meta-humans! There will be blood, I promise you, but above all, there will be change! Arm yourselves well brothers and sisters, for tonight we march on City Hall!”

A roar went up from the crowd as they waved their weapons in the air. A few even fired off a couple of rounds into the ceiling in excitement. For a moment, it seemed as if it was all going to work out beautifully. And then everything went white.

Floodlights streamed through the warehouse windows, illuminating the scene as the corrugated doors rolled upwards. Byrne blinked in the light, able to see several vehicles parked outside, their lights streaming past a hundred figures with raised weapons. A voice sounded from near the door and he peered up to see a woman with blue wings hovering nearby. Something like a heat haze surrounded her, twisting the bright white light into shifting fractal patterns.

“All of you, throw down your weapons!” she demanded, “This building is surrounded! Julius ‘Third Degree’ Byrne, stand down immediately!”

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he recognised the hovering spokeswomen. She had been present in the crowd he had preached to, she had cheered along with the others as he delivered his sermon. And now she hovered, revealed, a mole… betrayed by his own kind. The rage filled him in an instant.

“TRAITOR!!” he bellowed as the air around him erupted into flames. He leapt into the air, attempting to cover the distance between himself and the undercover police officer. She was too fast though and flitted out of the doors behind the cover of a dozen PPD officers in Shell Suits. He landed in front of them as a number of the protesters opened fire and the battle was joined. Riot officers swarmed through the door, quelling the mass of armed zealots who attempted to either fight or flee. Several heavily armed officers tried to stop Byrne who tore into them, smashing armour, faces, bones. PPD officers fell away from him, burning as his rage raised the temperature around him to unbearable levels. The fire consumed him, devouring his rational mind. In front of him there were just bodies, all who needed to be destroyed. He twisted necks, broke backs, snapped bones, watching as the pathetic Blanks fell.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!” he raged as officers swarmed around him. He felt something hit him in the back of the neck, followed by a heavy object which connected with his head. He stumbled and recognised a tranquiliser as it fell from his neck. He tried to resist but the dart had been loaded with enough to down an elephant. He fell to his knees as the powerful drugs rushed through his veins. Officers descended upon him, his vision filled with nothing more than blue. And then the blue turned to black and then there was nothing.

[ QUOTE ]
Short circuit and Ball Lightning are both decent AoEs which gives nice AoE end drain when slotted.

[/ QUOTE ]

Actually, quick question: I always thought that Short Circuit was an endurance draining power mainly with a tiny bit of damage. As it appears to be the only other AoE (after Ball Lightning and the Nuke), does this mean slotting for damage is worth it?

Excellent stuff! Thanks for the info, i12 can't come soon enough now.

So, with i12 looming, I’ve been playing around with potential builds for an Elec/Psi Blaster which looks ok on paper at least. However, upon mentioning this to a few people, their responses have been, well… a little derogatory with respect to Electric Blast. My only experience with it has been on a Dark/Elec Defender and I always chalked up the poor damage to be due to the Defender Blast modifier.

So I guess my questions are: Is Electrical Blast any good on a Blaster? Having played around on test, it seems ok but what does it look like at later levels and would it be worth keeping with? If there is a downside to the set, what is it?

Your considered opinions would be much appreciated, thanks.

Erebus said nothing, he simply smiled as Oswald ranted. When the vial was thrown violently back at him, he moved to one side, watching as the vial smashed into the stone of the fireplace, releasing its deadly contents to the air. He paid it no regard but kept his steely gaze on Hatesman.

"The one thing I admire about you Doctor," he began, "is how unwilling to deny your own emotions you are. Some people might consider that a failing. Given your normally combative nature, one could only expect your plan to be somewhat violent in execution."

He picked up an apple from the table, turning it over in his hands.

"However, I am not a mind reader. If you would like to demonstrate some aptitude for planning them perhaps you would care to share with the group. Starting with how you intend to contain the virus you have just unleashed."

He gave a wry smile towards the doctor and waited.

It had taken Erebus a few seconds to register what had been said. It was rare that he was rendered speechless.

"Dead?" he asked. "That is... surprising. But nonetheless, an excellent solution. Your efforts impress me Romanov. As for conquest..."

He wandered around the table, standing in front of the ornate fireplace. "I say we already own this sorry little island. Vanguard are nothing more than a weed that one keeps because it produces pretty flowers. I am uncertain as to whether their removal is necessary. However... should we decide that a more military solution is required, I have something to keep the wolves from our door."

He produced from his robes a small vial and placed it on the table.

"The Oblivion virus. Undetectable, paralysing and completely under my control. You are welcome to examine it, but don't be surprised if it doesn't respond to any sort of clinical trial, it's not meant to. Should we wish to quarantine the island, as we discussed at our last meeting, it is at our disposal. Now, for a slightly more martial approach, you had something to offer Oswald?"

Oh yeah, completely forgot about that.

IMHO, I prefer Oppressive Gloom. Less end heavy, more accurate although your foes may wander away from you. Plus if you get Health as a prerequsite for Stamina, it pays for itself. You probably know all this from your Brute anyway but adding in the quick attacks from the sword isn't going to help. Definitely slot end reducers in them as suggested.

Oh and best slotting IMHO for Divine Avalanche is 2 Acc, 2 Def, 2 Recharge and it's awesome.

How long is a piece of string?

Kat/Dark is not for the faint hearted. My first ever toon is Kat/Dark and even after two and half years, he's still only 35.

Endurance will be your main enemy as /Dark is toggle heavy and the quick recharging attacks of Kat can lead you to drain your end bar swiftly in a long fight as you'll be smapping them like crazy. As you have no endurance recovery powers, build with +End in mind if possible. Oh and get those -KB IOs fast if you can. With Acro, you'll drain your endurance even faster. There's no synergy between the two sets but they are both very good and in combination can give you come solid defence as well as good resistance to everything apart from Energy. D's still stuck in the RWZ and Rikti pwn him every time I try and play him. Oh and you won't be able to see the nice Kat animations from having Cloak of Darkness on.

On the plus side, you'll be very team friendly and a true boss killer. It's quite possible to run into a mob, disorientate all the minions, knockdown the mezzers and then lay the pain on the boss. Plus, it's very versatile and can adapt to lots of different situations. The heal is absolutely awesome and recharges quickly even if it does cost a ton of end to use and needs mobs around you.

It's a fun and challenging combination, definitely not 'easy mode' and quite versatile. But you will have times when you'll be cursing it as well.

Third Degree

Ziggursky Exercise Yard – Now


Freedom. Of a kind.

Lying back on a bench, Byrne effortlessly lifted the weights above him, his mind elsewhere. He’d left his days of boxing and amateur enforcement behind himself long ago, the dawn of his mutation seemingly distant. But his fitness, a point of pride for him, was still something he liked to maintain. There were plenty of other forty year olds in the Zig who’d be happy to beat the snot out of him if he didn’t stay in shape. And given the news brought to him by the mysterious Mr Dufresne and his even more mysterious employer, he was going to be needing his strength soon.

Byrne had visited the Etoile Isles once, many years ago. He’d heard that it was a place of tyranny and oppression but his general opinion of the place was very different to that reported by the Paragon newspapers. There was crime still, but at least it could be tackled head on. The philosophy of ‘might decides right’ was very much in evidence, something of which Byrne wholeheartedly approved. At the least the people who were in charge deserved to be there, all having obtained office through their own efforts rather than pandering to the simpering niceties of those stupid enough to vote a coward into office. He had no love of their methods perhaps, what enforcement system existed served to merely uphold an oppressive police state. But innovation was rewarded, power and disruption embraced and those incapable of commanding were commanded. There was no peace perhaps, but there was definitely order.

He didn’t enjoy the idea of being someone’s lackey though. He accepted it, knowing that true freedom was an illusion sold to the masses. There is always someone in charge, he reminded himself. He would play ball for now at least. As seemingly powerful as this Mr Mason was, everyone had their weak spots. As long as the ‘work’ indicated by Mr Dufresne was tolerable and didn’t compromise his ethics, he’d obey.

All that remained was to get himself into D Block, no mean feat. D Block was designed to hold the most dangerous, most unstable criminals. Whereas most of the prison was able to cope with the regular criminals through the use of nullifier rifles and teleport drones, D Block was another matter. The cells were specifically tailored to nullify each criminals’ powers, the guards had license to kill and the AEDs* were posted throughout the complex, huge robotic monstrosities, 9 feet tall and armed with powerful concussion cannons. Byrne had remained placid and calm throughout his stay at the Zig, not wanting trouble. Now he would have to actively seek it if he stood any chance of getting in there.

He’d make his move soon, he figured. Looking up at the artificial lighting from the Zig’s enclosed exercise yard, he promised that soon, these iron-grey walls would soon be a distant memory. It was then that a shadow loomed over him.

“Move it old man,” stated one of the younger thugs, obviously keen to claim his time on the bench.

Byrne placed the barbell back in place and stood up, raising himself to his full height. There was a clear 20 years difference between the two inmates but Byrne still remained dangerous. He drew close to the young upstart, others gathering in anticipation of a fight.

“All yours,” he stated calmly, stepping away from the bench. “I think I’m all done here anyway.”

*AED = Automated Enforcement Drone

"Not in his true form at least," came Erebus' voice as he entered the room, his ministerial robes flowing around him. "Greetings warlords, I am glad you could join me at my humble abode. I trust that my attendents have made you most comfortable. They are respectable, polite and above all, tasty."

He gave a sly smile as he sat at the table, ignoring the lavish display of food.

The old man sighed, as if he had heard the statement before.

"You have not come upon our islands before?" he said, more of a statement than a question. "Our ways are old and our customs can appear both quaint and terrifying to those unfamiliar with them. I am custodian of this resting place and I assure you, no desecration has occurred here."

He waved his hand in a welcoming gesture, making sure that he was positioned between the spirit and the volcano. "But if you wish to seek out some imagined misdemeanour, please look. You will find nothing but rested souls here, grateful that this generation has returned to the old ways."

He smiled, leaning on one of the knarled trees that were dotted about the cemetary.

Others watched the intruder as she walked through the gravestones. Flickering eyes darted about, their thoughts echoing in each other's minds.

"Who...!?"

"A messenger?"

"Not us!!"

"Tell them! Tell them!"

The hissing noises coalesced around trees and headstones, following the errant spirit. Finally one of them, bolder than the others, allowed itself to come into view, taking on the appearance of one of the ancient races of the island, a wizened old man, noble even if he appeared to bent double.

"Are you lost, wanderer?" he asked.

[ QUOTE ]
Perhaps Mr Mason should become the eighth LoRD...?

[/ QUOTE ]

Perhaps he already is...?

Not sure about including him as the 8th as he's meant to be a mystery, adaptable for everyone's purposes. However, given that the Cadre will be doled out assignments, there's no reason that they couldn't be given one to do by the LoRDs, communicated through a third party without ever knowing who they're doing the job for. As far as they're concerned, they working for Mr Mason.

I don't have many links redside to be honest. Erebus has never fitted in anywhere really. As it is, come i12, he's going to be rerolled as either Necro/Storm or Nin/Storm although I do have RP villains at other levels that can be used as plot monkeys if necessary.

Regarding information exchange, we're currently looking into setting up a board on the Militia forum so that Rom doesn't have to PM the world and his son for every plot twist. We'll keep you posted.

As for a large SG... mmmm, not sure. Perhaps a new SG which can hold random agents as the LoRDs as well as being coalitioned with other existing VGs would work. I'm all ears for discussion though.

14 May 2008

The Cathedral of Flame – Liberty Isles

Carved into the black rock of the island’s active volcano, the Cathedral was a masterpiece of engineering. Designed to be both imposing and masterful, it seemed to be part of the mountain, its graceful spires emulating the flames which powered its dark heart. And it did hold a dark heart indeed, a secret chamber magically carved far into the depths of the volcano, so far that it was possible to feel the boiling energies of doom and fire as they churned underneath, eager to receive their next victim.

It was here that Lord Erebus stood, his acolytes to his side as he read out a proclamation that sentenced the person before him to fiery doom from below. Not many on the island knew of this place, or what went on here. People just disappeared, never to be seen again. No-one suspected that they became human sacrifices to appease the deities of the island, a practice instituted by Erebus to allow him control over the Liberty Isle’s indigenous spirits. He always found these rituals saddening. The pitiful flesh was a waste for sure, but it housed a good soul, one that would have made him a plentiful meal should he have chosen to dine on it. But he was required to abide by the bargain, for now. It wasn’t as if he was lacking for souls to consume on this accursed isle as it was.

Once he had finished reading, a robed mage appeared, hastening to Erebus’ side with a message. Erebus smiled as he read it. The guests had arrived. He should go and prepare.

“Do you expect me to beg for my life!?” shouted the bound victim as he awaited his fate. Erebus looked up from the note, disinterested.

“Not really,” he replied, dismissing the magical barrier that had suspended the man above the pit. The echoes of the sacrifice echoed around the chamber as Erebus approached the shaft that would allow him to fly up to the more respectably decorated cathedral. It really was such a waste…


((The Cathedral has a number of guest quarters and visitors’ rooms on its upper levels, ornately decorated with all manner of arcane finery and mystical artefacts. Nothing useful, but enough to evoke the feeling of power, Erebus is a sucker for them. The guests will be shown into a dining room where there is a gratuitous display of food and wines for them to indulge in while Erebus flies up to greet them.))

Third Degree
Kings Row Warehouse – Then

The applause had been moderate. Byrne allowed himself a tiny smile. Audiences were not normally that appreciative by this point in his speeches. He must have hit a nerve.

“And so,” he continued, “I look at our leaders, our politicians and I ask, who amongst them is a mutant? Which of them stands out proud of his meta-human heritage? Which of them is there to support our needs? Our views? Out priorities?” He paused for effect. “None of them ladies and gentlemen, none of them! Of course, they claim that they do, but how can they know what it is to be different? To stand out, sometimes forcibly from a crowd? No, they are there to maintain the current situation, not to challenge it. And I ask you, why should that be the case? As meta-humans, we are at the forefront of humanity, changing it, shaping it, crafting a new world and so I wonder where is our voice!?”

There was a ripple of agreement through the crowd. A few jeers, even a shout of encouragement as Byrne paced the stage. “But some of you here my not agree,” he continued, “some of you may believe that there is no discrimination, that we all live in harmony, the human and the meta-human. Then I ask, if that is so, why are there so many gangs on our streets? So many disenfranchised youths, neglected by the system and marginalised from our ‘perfect’ society? Where is their place in our utopia other than under the boot of our ‘so called protectors’? Even in our places of work, we see the insidious nature of this man-made disease. You sir, what is your name?”

He indicated a gentleman in the front of the crowd. He looked like any ordinary man in a suit aside from the fact that his skin was emerald green. “Colin Shultz,” he replied.

“And what do you do?”

“I’m an accountant.”

“An accountant? So tell me, do your colleagues refer to you by your name?”

“No, they don’t.”

“What do they call you?”

“They call me Avocado Man,” replied Mr Shultz, clearly nervous.

There was a murmuring from the crowd of disapproval. Byrne simply looked out at them, his arms spread in a gesture of futility. “Is this fair brothers and sisters?” he asked, to a vocal response. “Where is the legislation preventing discrimination against our kind!? You sir, do you have a job?”

“No,” replied the heavy set man, “I used to work in Overbrook at a construction site until they discovered I had superhuman strength. Then they made me redundant, said I was making the other guys look bad.”

The murmur from before returned, this time with more aggression behind it. Byrne continued on. “Should we have to tolerate this my friends? How many other people’s mutations have excluded them from doing their ‘normal’ jobs?”

A sea of hands raised in response. “And why is that? Because you’re not fit to do them? Or because of fear? Because we are something different? Because we represent what they could never be!”

A roar rose from the crowd. They were his.

“I say this situation has gone on too long!” he continued, his powerful voice booming through the warehouse. “For too long have we been slaves to the Blanks, the ‘normals’! For too long have we been expected to fit in, to play ball, to not rock the boat. Well consider the boat rocked ladies and gentlemen!” A cheer rose, the voices of those who felt excluded and unwanted.

“What of the heroes!?” came a voice.

“What of them?” came Byrne’s retort. “They are meant to protect us, to defend us and yet it is us, the meta-human community that they spend their time hunting! And why? Because we do not fit in with the Blanks! Because we do not conform to the standards of normality put in place by the Blanks themselves! These heroes are traitors to their kind! Filth I call them! They laud their meta-human heritage over us, so proud of the gifts that nature has given them, only to prostrate themselves before their Blank masters! I say SHAME on these traitors to their kind! Shame on them!”

The roaring crowd applauded, jeers and shouts of support coming from them.

“And I say tonight we make a change!” continued Byrne, “tonight we make our stand! Tonight we show this city that it’s ‘freaks’ demand their rights! This is our city! And tonight, we take it back!”

"I would suggest quarantining the island," came the whispering voice of Lord Erebus as he was shown into the room. His voice took on the tone of some shocked newsreader. "Some form of biological outbreak, no doubt an agent released by the evil Buku to further suppress the angry masses calling for his head. The World Health Authority have declared the islands a health risk and are advising people not to come within the island state's borders."

He took a seat at the table, folding his robes of state around him. "I have something that may do such a job with minimal risk to us or the island."

Third Degree

King’s Row Boxing Gym – Then

Byrne fell back into the corner, collapsing onto the stool. The cut above his right eye had opened again, leaving him half blind from the blood that flowed into it. Frank, his trainer, was swift to apply a damp towel to the wound, attempting to staunch the flow. Steam billowed off of the cloth as it touched his temple. Frank did his best to cover it with the towel.

“How close are you?” has asked to the punch drunk Byrne.

“Close,” replied Byrne, “but I think I can control it.”

“You’d better,” replied Frank. “I put of a grand up for this match and he made me promise to not pit him against no mutants. You go Nova out there, we lose big time.”

“I know Frank, I know,” reiterated Byrne. “Like I said, I can handle it.”

The fight had been straightforward. Down on his luck, Byrne had sunken into the dingy world of underground boxing. With no football team in the states wanting to touch him, he’d moved into a new arena. Frank had found him at the gym and helped coach him in his new field. He was no contender but his size and increased strength when riled gave him an edge which made him a safe bet in an evenly matched fight. There was one risk of course. Most of the matches held after hours in this place were human against human. If Byrne lost control and let his anger get to him, he’d burst into flames and reveal his meta-human nature to everyone. All bets would be off. So far, he’d managed but the Mexican bruiser in the opposite corner was pushing him hard.

The bell rang and Byrne leapt back into the ring only to receive a cunning left hook to the jaw. He reeled, feeling the rage building, wanting to get out, wanting to destroy. He choked it back, just as El Toro delivered a series of body blows to him. He fought back, punching upwards into his opponent’s stomach. The Mexican staggered but didn’t retreat. Byrne laid a lazy punch into man’s chest, pushing him back. He followed with a left hook and a jab which connected with a satisfying slap. Toro countered, blocking Byrne’s follow up and then laying in with a stunning combo of punches to his torso. Byrne hit the ropes and tried to bounce back. His calm was shattered and it took all of his strength to repress the fury that was filling him. Frank watched in horror as the ropes began to blacken from where they had touched Byrne’s skin. He was close to losing it. But as his opponent closed once more, Byrne ducked to one side, sending a powerful blow into his foe’s gut. As the Mexican crumbled, Byrne pushed him backwards, a flurry of punches connecting with the stunned man. Finishing with a massive uppercut, Byrne staggered backwards as the man fell to the canvas, out for the count.

Frank ignored the opposite team as they leapt into the ring to check on their contender. He helped Byrne remove the cumbersome boxing gloves that he was trying to tear from his hands. The plastic on them was already blistering and it hurt to touch them.

“Frank…” he managed, grimacing, “I’ve got to go…”

“Go?” he replied, nonplussed.

“I must go. Now.” It was a statement that Frank didn’t argue with. Stepping aside, Byrne ran from the gym.

Escaping outdoors, he jumped, clearing several buildings in one go. The cool night air did nothing for his temper which desperately wanted release. He ran further, heading into Eastgate Park. Finding a small glade, he ran into the centre and let the fury come.

With a dull thud, the grove exploded into flames, a fireball erupting in its centre, incinerating anything living around it. As the flames roared around him, Byrne stood naked in the centre, watching the trees succumb to the fire. He tried to remain rational about the explosion but one thought dominated his mind.

He had destroyed with nothing more than the power of his mutation. He felt powerful. Worse than that, it felt good…

Indeed. Powered armour suits have a long and noble history in comics so there's no reason to let that put you off creating one. Hell, even one of my Blasters is part Iron Man/part Positron. As long as you don't paint it up red and gold like some of the knock-offs I've seen flooding into Atlas recently, you'll be fine. As others have said, it's the character that matters the most, not the concept and that's the personality that you're roleplaying, not the armour.

When it comes to armour, you have several choices that can influence the nature of the character. I mean, how did they acquire the armour? Did they make it? Was it given to them? Did they find it? Did it belong to a previous hero? Each one of those opens up a possibility from being a total robotics genuis or a fool with a suit who doesn't know what they're doing.

There's nothing wrong with allowing existing heroes to inspire your character, hell a dozen of mine are riffs on existing ones. As long as you do something to make them unique and interesting, I'd say you're fairly safe.

Third Degree
Ziggursky Interview Room - Now

The door to the interview room slid open and Julius Byrne was ushered into the room, shuffling in his chains, the bright orange boiler suit rustling as he moved. Although a pair of power-dampening manacles embraced his wrists, his legs were still bound with standard chains, causing him to walk in very short steps.

Inside the room was a desk and behind it was a smartly dressed man in a suit, blonde and with delicate, angular glasses. He reeked of being a lawyer, even in this place.

“Ten minutes,” said the guard, firmly but in a manner that suggested that he didn’t want to annoy the lawyer. He left the room and locked it behind him. The lawyer shuffled some papers in front of him.

“Excuse me a moment,” he said, taking a small black box from his jacket pocket and placing it on the table. He pressed a button on the side of it and then sat to address Byrne. “This is not a tape recorder,” he stated. “It is a transmitter, designed to interfere with magnetic recording. Should the warden ever attempt to review a tape of this meeting, he will see and hear nothing but static. Now, to business.”

Byrne remained unmoving, trying to assess the man in front of him as he continued to talk.

“I’ll come straight to the point,” he began. “My name is Mr Dufresne, I am employed by Mr Mason, a man with many interests in this part of the world. He has recently discovered that in order to further his business ventures, he requires a team of motivated people to enforce his authority in certain places, namely the Etoile Isles. I trust you are familiar with them?” Byrne didn’t respond so Mr Dufresne just continued on. “You’ll be pleased to know that you have been identified as a person qualified for such a job.

Byrne raised his manacles. “There’s not much I can do while I am bound like a slave,” he rumbled.

“Indeed,” replied the lawyer. “Very soon, there will be a raid on this prison. I have arranged for yourself and the other members of Mr Mason’s little cadre to be among those retrieved. However, the troops will only be able to land next to D Block, where their attack will commence. You will need to find a way into said Block if you wish to take up Mr Mason’s generous offer. We can provide you with clothing and equipment but you will need to make it to the rendezvous in Port Oakes. How you do so is up to you.”

Byrne sat back in his chair, amused. This Mr Mason was direct at least. “Mr Dufresne, as much as I appreciate your employer’s offer, I am no man’s lackey. I will not be at the beck and call of your master like some lap dog when I still have my message to spread.”

“And you will be able to do so,” replied Dufresne. “All of the cadre will be entitled to continue in whatever business they wish to once in the Isles on the following two conditions. One, they do nothing to incriminate or bring attention to Mr Mason. Two, that under no circumstances should they attempt to discover who Mr Mason is. Aside from your servitude, you are free to do as you wish. Or you can sit here and serve your time. The choice is yours.”

Byrne considered his options. As much as life in the Zig was tolerable, he was serving two consecutive life sentences. Even with good behaviour, he’d be lucky if he was out by 65. And although he resented working for someone, at least the Etoile Isles was freedom of a kind. He’d studied their history before, even making an illicit visit to their shores. Lord Recluse at least understood that might should decide right and maintained order there with an iron fist. It was a philosophy that stood well within Byrne’s morality. He considered that perhaps he could aid this Mr Mason for a while, then venture onwards once his freedom was secured.

Before he could respond, seemingly prompted by his thoughts, a large brown envelope was slid across the table towards him. “I was told to present this to you,” stated Mr Dufresne, “in case you needed any further convincing.”

Byrne took the envelope and shook out the contents. Inside was a large photograph. The image hit him like a bombshell, his plans crumbling before it.

“Mr Mason takes all such contracts of employment very seriously,” affirmed the lawyer. “I can assure you that he knows a lot about the people he chooses.”

As the shockwaves died down, Byrne took the picture and slid it back inside its envelope. Whatever choice he thought he’d had was no more than an illusion.

“When do we begin?”

*laughs*

Ok, I mildly disagree. Blasters can be a very 'point and shoot' AT and if that's your bag then groovy. Certainly on my Fire/Fire Blaster, I'm mainly looking to make sure that everything moving is either face first on the floor or on fire. But that's not always the case on teams.

If you're on a decent team, the Blaster shouldn't get as much aggro as they would normally. Therefore, I figure that the Bosses can have most of my attention as I'm the AT most likely to take them down fastest (i.e. I have the highest damage output). Also, my Defender mindset often takes over as well. If I see somone's bar going red, I sometimes target through them to either kill whatever's giving them grief, or to drag the aggro off of them (with sometimes hillarious and fatal consequences). There have also been bizarre times when I've sat in the Tank's Taunt aura, healing him with Aid Other while liberally blasting everything else.

I find Scrappers the most 'team-independent' AT, easily. Who here hasn't suffered 'Scrapperlock' while the rest of the team faceplants?

Still, in terms of mindless chaos, Blasters rule and in general, I think any AT can be team friendly, regardless of their design.

I should just note here for future reference: Erebus doesn't have any minions at the villa. In fact, no-one has seen his minions just yet. One could suppose he has some at the temple perhaps.

Erebus had watched the lady's performance with amusement. No wonder her soul smelt so rancid. It probably wasn't her own. He rose from the table and followed Romanov into the parlour. It seemed that things were about to get interesting.

[ QUOTE ]
But that may me weeks away and it looks like the LoRDs may be about to kill each other anyway

[/ QUOTE ]

Bah! We wouldn't be evil geniuses if we weren't out to royally screw each other over every now and again. It seems to work for Recluses regime.