DeviousMe

Positron, whuh? That's TA, no doubt about it.

Personally, I'd hope you get to everyone, but considering the quality of your artwork, it looks like you put a lot of time and effort into each of your pieces, so I'll understand if you don't.

Of course, here's hoping for the best. By the way, did I mention Vern has never been drawn, and that you'd be the first person ever to do so?

Considering Dragonberry rarely wears a lot anyway, I'd say it's SFW enough, heh.

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When it stopped suddenly, Drago and the brute found themselves pressed against the nose of the flying bike and the machine rocked a little. The pilot, however, was thrown from the machine and he dragged across the street for a few feet.

"Oh, man!" he shouted as he tried to push himself up, "Why the Hell did that happen to me!?"

"Don't know, Levi," the other replied as he started wiping at the Venom on his body, "Huh... This stuff's drying already?"

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Drago, unfortunately, hadn't gotten away quite as well as a certain James Baker. Unlike the brute, he remained hunched over the machine's nose, left hand at the collar of his helmet, as if trying to pry the thing away. He was motionless but for the slow, gradual pull of his right arm out from before him. Upon freeing that hand though, the energy in its arm appeared expended, fingers opening as the hand dropped sans any vigor, an automatic particle injector falling to the ground.

In addition, now that the arm hung limply beside him, the wound in his right abdomen could be visibly traced from the trail of blood that slowly etched its way across the black armor of his uniform.

The entry point of a Venom round.

That was why Drago hadn't been able to do anything. When the brute approaching him from behind had taken his attention for a moment, the shooter inside the van had gotten his chance to strike without repercussion. It was ironic really, for the van taking flight was not a factor that had affected Drago's initial plan. James' appearance, however noble its intent, on the other hand had carried dire consequences...

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"Arek: Teleport all: Good idea," he grated out before bracing himself.

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Truth be told, the Sky Commander would've loved to do just that. Unfortunately, it didn't look like the det-prepping enemy would give him the time necessary for him to tell his warp equipment not to take them along for a general evacuation - and since the idea of that would've been to get away from them before they exploded, this created obvious complications.

Thankfully, the cage with the captives had been cleared of would-be bombs by now, and though several were still way too close to declare it a safe zone, it created a situation that allowed Arek to use teleportation in another way: namely by jumping a pair of large, heavy shipping containers before and beside it, creating an impromptu wall of reinforced steel.

However, since he didn't know anything about the power of the expected detonations, the Sky Commander naturally prepared for the worst, releasing his force lance and stemming himself against one container, giving a curt shout to any remaining others to help. Some did, others couldn't make it.

And the enemy blew their top. Literally.

But the wall held.

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"Okay, speak up if you aren't dead. If you need first aid, say 'Ow'."

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A grind echoed as the denim-scaled draconian pushed the end of 'his' container forward a bit, panting heavily from the strain of holding it in place. He'd probably pulled a few things, and in fact looked decently tired, but right now he didn't really care.

"Check the captives." he told Rose flatly, signifying with an outstretched wave that he didn't want anything near him until that priority was taken care of. Apparently, this guy didn't seem to care which side of the law she stood on - and indeed, he did not...

"Yeah, c'mon!" Johnny shouted over, which of course wasn't anywhere near where a human-sized person would've put his volume, "I wanna see what it is already...!"

Vlasta's initial reaction - after stopping in his flinch back from the sword, of course - was one of stunned silence. He was simply at a lack of words to enunciate the myriad of questions this situation had suddenly thrown into his mind, not the least of which being: 'what the heck just happened?!'

Near as he could tell, Poseidon's kidnappers had just saved him, which in and of itself already destroyed his earlier theory, and the other discrepancies just kind of crashed in after that. In short, he was back to square one. Again. He freaking hated being back to square one!

"Negotiate?!" he exclaimed incredulously on impulse, though he did have enough presence of mind this time to actually make sure War had the CPRS operative in hand, the two swordsmen indeed going at one another with quite the impressive fervor, "What?! Who are you people?! You kidnap Poseidon right out of-!"

"Um, Griffin." the nervously grinning griffin gave but the lightest chuckle with a raised finger, stopping Teivos' shouting then and there, the Tsaigon for a moment reassuming his former expression.

"...what?"

"Um...I'm not Poseidon..."

"What are you talking about?" Vlasta wondered with a skeptic visage, sweeping a hand to his side to signal his by-now back up guard to stay their weapons, which they of course did. Well, minus Wolfgang, who had apparently gotten lost somewhere, "Of course you are. I wasn't sure at first either, but your DNA's a perfect match."

"Well..." the griffin reached into his fire-red mane, self-consciously scratching his neck, "...yeah, it would have to be. See...I'm his clone. Name's Griffin. So...hi..."

At first, Teivos only raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing the situation. Finally, he spoke again with a slight nod, though more to himself at first, "Actually, that makes a lot of sense. Explains a few things too. But...why would someone clone a photographer? And why would you and your...whatever go and kidnap him?!"

Though the question was clearly directed at Famine, Griffin felt things had become too hectic for anything long-winded, taking the word with an outstretched hand, "Nono, you've got it all wrong, um, Sir. They didn't kidnap me. Oh geez, what did I start...?"

((Forgot to add this earlier: Cham's informed me that his dragon's nonnatural-messer-upper-spell is still in effect, but not as strongly as before. So anyone not protected from it, your gear and clothing is apparently degrading...or something...I dunno, I didn't really get the details. ))

While I am saddened that I didn't get anything, the sheer sinister awesome of that piece makes it all better.

((It...may take me a while to figure out how to react here. Please carry on, I don't want to stop anything.))

Green maybe?

((...what the heck just happened?))

I disagree. Even Recluse needs beer and pretzels every now and then.

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How will level scaling work? Will every mission automatically scale to your current level (+ difficulty, team size, etc.) or will it be predetermined by the "architect"?

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This is complicated. Every critter has a level range where they are valid. When you make a mission, all of the level ranges must overlap at some point. If you are outside this level range when you go to play the mission you will be brought up or down to the level rang of the mission.

Example, I use critters A (1-54), B (34-45) and C (40-48). The level range of the mission is (40-45).

If I am level 5, I will play mission at level 40.
If I am level 50, I will play mission at level 45.
If I am level 42 I will play at level 42.
If I am level 5, but have set my difficulty to max, I will play at level 38.


Note: I said mission here, not arc, each mission has an independent level range.

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Additional question about this, relating to custom critters: if I create a CC faction and make multiple minions/lts/bosses, will I be able to give the individual ones their own level ranges, or will I need to set the mission level range appropriately?

For example: can I make a group that spawns Minion A at lvl 1-25 and minion B at 26-50, so that when a lvl 20 player enters, he/she will face Minion A, but if someone at lvl 50 enters, he/she gets Minion B? Or will I have to set a selected level range for that entire group of custom critters?

((Aiight, Imma give this a shot, see what happens. ))

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"Don't know why Paragon even has cops" Blake said, the sirens making him nervous "The heroes always do the work anyways"

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If the increasing distance from police presence had any calming effect on Blake, this likely evaporated quite rapidly on the way back to the apartments - for as if they hadn't faced enough monsters today, they ran into yet another not a long way from their destination.

Unlike the first two, however, this one was neither frighteningly large (only just over two meters tall), nor lupine in nature. Instead, it could've been described as some manner of bipedal, scaleless reptilian with a leathery, deep-green hide - which interestingly enough had plantigrade feet. Not that this in any way degraded from the monstrous look, the five toes of said feet home to vicious claws, as were the same number of fingers, and the raptor-like head held enough teeth to knock out four out of five dentists on the spot.

Furthermore, the reptilian stood practically covered in blood, splotches and streaks of crimson standing out exceptionally well against the green hide, not to mention where it stuck to claws and teeth, and while the creature looked hurt and angry (at least judging by the 'and what do you want?!' glare out of the corner of those ice-gray eyes), it was easy to see that most of that blood wasn't its own. Something had been torn apart in that alley the reptilian had come from...or someone.

And that frigid, sideways glance gave good reason to the belief that Alex and/or Blake may have very well been next on the list...

Unfortunately, Sun Tzu assumed too much with regard to the weather. The regulators put in place by the Estertosians operated no more or less 'naturally' than the manipulations of his own force. Since Yinglong's spell didn't interfere with the former, it of course had no effect on the latter either. Sadly, they still couldn't stop something as relatively small as someone calling down lighting, but it did leave the F-22s on an even playing field.

After all, they were perfectly capable of phenomenal speeds themselves, being termed supersonic fightercraft for good reason, and could thus match the CPSR forces at their own game quite decently. In fact, when Sun Tzu split off several sorcerers from the aerial battle, a number of fighters did the same, taking up pursuit.

On the ground, Teivos had just gotten everyone out of the crater when a wave of lightning tore through the air, and of course their formation, flinging them down the street like so much debris. The second layer of MPDAS armor might have been shield-emitting, but was restricted to electromagnetics, which meant though it held off the lightning fairly well, heat and pressure weren't exactly classifiable as moving charges, resulting in people ending up all over the place - and if they weren't armored, likely with a few very nasty burns.

Vlasta for one belonged to the former category, though unfortunately found himself with a slash across his abdomen before he even hit the ground, and thus ended up not on his feet, but on top of Archlich, though thankfully on his back, and not in that way.

The second slash from the lightning katana, however, was met with a boot to the head - or more accurately, the tip of one to the chin. Tsaigon teeth grit as human ones cracked, and the Lightning Blade went to the ground while Teivos helped his kick out with a knee and jumped to his feet again.

Spitting bloody fragments of bone and enamel, the man coul clearly see the char-edged cut he'd made through the black baggy shirt...and that it hadn't gone through the silver-gray armor plating below. There was a blackened scratch on it, but not a hint of blood.

"What, you think it that easy?" Vlasta flashed a wicked grin, not quite managing a smile. Keeping his teeth together helped him get over pain, but he wasn't about to show that to an adversary, instead turning the reaction into a psychological weapon.

Regrettably, at that point came the distraction, for Teivos realized where he'd been flung to: right to a certain bend in the road, and now glancing at a very confused-looking griffin that he'd been looking for a good while.

For just a moment, he forgot all about the Lightning Blade, just staring in disbelief at him and the Horsemen, trying to make sense of what the heck had just happened...

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last posted ken dark dragon (deviousme).. (pic name: read between the lines).. need feedback.. http://tartarsause.deviantart.com/ar...-WIP-114345026

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Oh wow, that's pretty damn sweet! Heck, I'd say you've pretty much got him down. The only things missing are minor details like his toes and fingers having claws, a few spikes here and there (like the ones on nose and elbows), and the ears below the horns.

Personality-wise, you've already captured him perfectly. I can just hear the "I could take you with one hand behind my back." from that pose. As a final comment, I would like a bit of his tail visible, or if you prefer to close the lower robe instead, that's cool too.

Johnny chuckled at this, finding the idea both calming and amusing, "I guess that makes me feel a little better then."

As Sarah returned and Kia wanted to know whether she wanted to know, his smile only widened, having a good idea what was about to come. He already figured Billy had done something outrageous again, and eagerly awaited the story.

Needless to say, the little dragon found himself rather disappointed when the Tornado just answered with a sly, "You'll find out..."

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"All-rite then." was the bespectacled dragon's well-meant reply, "But don't overdo it."

Dr. William Brown, commonly known to his friends as Bill, or often Billy, had to admit he wasn't too comfortable with just leaving the young man to himself like that...but if he was expected somewhere, then the people who were doing the expecting would take care of him, yes. He'd be okay. Moreover, he and the one he carried were expected somewhere as well.

"C'mon then, Prince Courageous." he smiled to the amphibian over his shoulder, "Maybe a kiss from your darling sweetie'll get you back awake again."

Thus he shouldered his own pack again, which until now had been serving to further secure the other dragon, but as he spread his wings, Bill knew he'd need some more balance for a decent flight.

Well, at least now he can't scream my ear off for flying, hehe.

With that bemused thought, he took to the air, setting course for the residence of Sam Winston...

"Yeah right, that's going to work." Drago gave a wry chuckle as the van started up. He was actually quite amazed that his thinking was apparently off, but he certainly wasn't about to complain about it. No, he just looked to Arek, "You've got things here, right?"

"Affirmative." the denim draconian replied with a curt nod, and the next second Drago was already gone, leaving behind naught but the characteristic pop of air rushing into a suddenly appeared vacuum.

The Sky Commander then stepped forward to take the offensive, but then things changed. At first, this seemed good to him, but the telltale signs of prepping self-destructs quickly told him otherwise. He quickly shifted tactics to the same manner as Dynamo Rose, though he focused more on getting the about-to-blow hostiles away from the cages, doing so with a mix of bolts from his force lance as well as simple, direct throws.

On a rooftop across the street, Drago had meanwhile watched the van burst from the warehouse, and now that it turned and headed down the road, he targeted it directly for another jump.

Reappearing on the vehicle's roof, he his chassis with hands and feet to not slide off, then drove the sharp, clawed arms of his backpack at the metal, attempting to rip through the roof and gain access to the vehicle. Best of all, if anyone inside went and got smart enough to shoot up, they'd quickly learn just why each of those arms also had a channelgun at its tip...

((Heh. And okay, was waiting for Cham to add something, but I guess he doesn't have anything to, so I should probably go ahead. ))

"Come on already!" Vlasta turned back to Torcher and Pyra as his troop crested the crater's rim, "We don't have all-"

It was then that he spotted Archlich, the undead arcanist having apparently arrived before the M7A7 had moved off, the chaos all around and his position having denied notice. Now that Teivos had spotted the man, however, he wasted no time sliding back down into the crater, Wolfgang at his heels, darting over to the seemingly fallen magus.

The former looked to the latter, but the cyborg only shook his head. He'd just gotten someone back on his feet. It would be a little while before he could do so again. True, Archlich was undead, which could've meant that adding pain instead of taking it away would have a positive effect on him, but since Wolfgang got that idea from video games, he opted for caution in putting too much faith in it.

Thus being, Vlasta but holstered his pistol, scooped Archlich up and onto his shoulders, then gave a nod to the cyborg and climbed the crater wall again. A tough and hardy infantryman, it didn't take him long to do so, and once everyone had gotten out of the shallow hole, he ordered a speedy sprint up the street and away from the dragons.

Coincidentally enough, this was also the direction in which lay a certain clothing store. However, that was still around a bend and at a decent distance...

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Štátna Zbrojovka

On the massive runway that jutted from the State Weapons Factory high above the waves below, several regular units of the Pozemna Armada had already assembled, some waiting for the arrival of Toy Dispenser and his captives, others preparing to depart in further Molvias to assist their Sovereign.

The former didn't really expect things to go any different than usual, namely that the android would be taking them to the semi-cylindrical 'office building' that towered over the rest of the 'city' clinging to the cliff (it was an illusion of course; Štátna Zbrojovka was a block complex, fully supported in itself), specifically to the holding cells for prisoners of value a few levels below the Sovereign's office, which occupied most of the top floor.

Of course, if Toy ordered differently, no one would question it. He was Armádny Generál. He had authority, and that was to be obeyed. True, the Pozemna Armada didn't drive out free thought in favor of obedience to orders, but if a superior officer commanded something that wasn't grossly unreasonable, PA personnel generally had no business countermanding - especially if that order came from a General, like Toy Dispenser.

In other words, until Teivos got back (or unless another high animal wanted something with them), he just about had free run of the prisoners within reason, and could easily order the regular detention block guard to step out for a while. They might not have liked the idea of leaving an important officer 'alone' with such dangerous people, but they would certainly do so despite disagreements...

"Seven days, six nights." Sarah gave a good-natured shrug as she stood, producing a mobile from her pocket, "Anyway, I'm gonna let the guys know where we are and stuff. Back in a minute."

Kia couldn't help but smile as well, giving a nod to the Tornado as she headed to the next room over to not bother this conversation with hers. She then turned back to Pax and Eileen, "I was more asking if there's a problem with your history here and now. As in, if there's something here that needs...fixing, I guess...is that the right term?"

"Would have to be." Johnny confirmed, by now sitting cross-legged and with arms before him, giving his nod something comically sagely, "Though I can't help but wonder who decides. Gotta say, the idea just...I don't know, just rubs me the wrong way, I guess..."

Kia couldn't help but cast a troubled glance to the little dragon. She knew just that attitude had been what had gotten him banished from his former home. Sure, he pretended not to care, but she knew that deep down he really did miss it - and that it was all because of stupid, ignorant intolerance.

Thankfully, Sarah returned soon enough, a satisfied look on her face...until her eyes met Kia's again, at which point she very nearly couldn't suppress a chuckle, which in turn of course caused the mountain dragon's pupils to look rather worried.

"Uh-oh." she mumbled unsurely, turning her head to keep the Tornado in but the corner of her eye, "Do I even want to know...?"

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"'ey, young man." a voice that carried what sounded like a heavy and distinct Irish accent soon called after Darren, though it didn't shout, "Wait up ther', boyo. I think you done dropped this."

The source was of course no Irishman, instead a tall and rather athletically built dragon much like Kia. Not that he was in any way towering, but he stood at least at two meters, and the well-built physique seemed to add something too, especially since his skin was mostly orange, and the pale-green, short-sleeved shirt and faded blue-jeans formed a rather peculiar contrast. His throat was white though, and judging from the fact that the blank hue ran down and expanded into the collar of his shirt, his whole 'underside' probably was too, which of course again formed an interesting play with the matte-black stripe that ran down his back and tail.

His hands were black as well, in the same matte hue, and if he hadn't worn decently sized, semi-casual dress shoes, Darren could've seen his feet were too. Things being as they were, however, the dragon's features that most likely drew his attention were those of his head: a soft, smiling visage, shoulder-long and jet-black hair, short, pointed-back ears, a single straight horn upon his 'forehead', and a pair of gentle, honey-colored eyes behind the lenses of small, round glasses.

Well okay, chances were his dull-yellow inside wing skins drew some attention too, but there wasn't any way in hell that such stood more so than the second dragon this one carried slumped over his right shoulder; a red, wingless one to boot, with an orange-reddish membrane running down his back from tip to tail, identifying that one as the water-based sort. He in turn wore a denim jacket that nicely matched his like-hued pants and brown shoes, as well as the black, sleeveless shirt he had on underneath, though bent over the shoulder of the first dragon like that, this remained unseen to Darren for now, as did most of his head but the back.

What did not remain unseen, however, was that that one wasn't moving, that the orange-hued one didn't seem concerned about that (or carrying all that weight, for that matter) one bit, and of course that his free black hand held a certain something toward Darren: namely, his history book, which he hadn't picked back up with the bag.

"Tha' was a might nasty-lookin' fall." the dragon remarked with a motion of said book toward the gash above his eyebrow, "You all-rite? Wan' I should take a look a' that...?"

((Hm, having a little trouble with the accent there. Also, if you meant he put the book in his back earlier, please let me know if I was off in assuming he was carrying it separately.))

Drago scowled beneath his helmet. Wasn't this just peachy? A bunch of genetically engineered (or at least modified) ninja shadow wizards slinging dark spells around, and he was fresh out of hyperwave emitters.

Always the case, isn't it?

A leg of his backpack struck out to bat one away, the denim draconian behind him poling another up and over with the force lance.

"What now?" the Sky Commander wanted to know with more of a statement than a question, not letting up in his defense.

"Working on it." Drago retorted a bit more casually, but did the like, blasting a ninja to the ground with a crimson energy bolt. Sadly, the man jumped right back up, "I'm open to suggestions, though."

Okay, let's think about this: take them down but forget one, they get back up. Get them all and they blow up. Hmh. Not the best of options.

The van caught his eye.

Then again...

He looked about the room. Were there any other vans? Or perhaps shipping containers? Just something decently large and enclosed, that was all he needed...

((Hm, okay, I guess I'll assume Arek's strike worked then.))

As the ninja crashed into a crate, the Sky Commander's weapon tore through the rest of the tendrils holding him down, a beat of his wings getting him clear and back-to-back with Drago.

"I see our paths in this have merged." he told the Arachnos-armored man, but didn't get much further before the sudden how set in, gripping at his liveliness and raising the enemy once more. Well, that just wouldn't do.

Luckily, everything seemed to have gone to melee now, giving the two a decided advantage in fighting off would-be attackers, as well as allowing Drago a chance to look for where all this 'dark' stuff was coming from. Generally, there was a central figure behind these things.

Was this the case here...?

((M'kay, gonna give Khell until tomorrow, then move things along if he hasn't posted.))

Griffin wasn't quite sure how to react just there. Should he call out to wait, or should he just leave her be? War and Famine certainly seemed to want to, and though he wasn't comfortable with the chem-merc, the swordsman had busted him out of that hospital. Hash-up or not, a person didn't just do something like that without having some genuine compassion.

Still, the woman seemed to know things no one else around here did, or if they did, they hadn't told him. This 'Sovereign' was of course the jumping point. That sounded like a title for a person, and a really important one at that. In addition, the mercenaries had conveyed that they'd upset the regime here. Were the two one and the same? And if so, what did this mean?

"I don't know, guys..." he told the Horsemen thoughtfully, "I think she knows stuff we could use..."

That's pretty damn slick, heh. I especially like the sawed-off shotgun there. Oh, and his name's Ken - or at least I call him that. Long names are long.

That said, now you've made him waaay too beefy, haha. He's really not that muscly, more a commander and tactician than a big fighter himself. After all, he did used to be a painter. I asked his creator for any old reference shots he still had, and it turns out he had one. Sadly, the artist mistakenly connected his back spikes with that membrane (so the most accurate stuff is still on that first side I lined to), but it's the closest thing to what Ken used to look like back when he had wings.

It's really nice to see how this is progressing though, and I sure appreciate it. Also I gotta say, that 'come here' finger at the audience is a very nice touch.

Johnny couldn't help but snicker at Eileen's remark, Kia's idea already having settled the matter for him, leaving him free to pay attention to other things. The originator herself looked to Sarah, who for a few more seconds tossed the idea around in her head, said body part leaning to and fro, then finally giving a nod.

"I guess it has to." she agreed, adding a shrug with a glance to the mountain dragon, "I can't imagine any other way for things working so differently...well, I can, but that idea still creeps me out. Hmh...I guess things here really are just a lot different than back home."

"Exactly." Kia nodded her agreement, "So why not time? No reason it couldn't be. In any case...Paxtera, was it? How come you're here then? Is there something wrong with your history here? Or do you get days off or something...?"

The attacking shadows didn't come as much of a surprise, the very tactically-minded Sky Commander having seen no logical reason they should stay around the cages if they were indeed mobile. Unfortunately, just because he perceived this didn't mean he could predict just the kind of strike they'd carry out, and dark tendrils snapped like whips about an arm and a leg, ramming the draconian to the ground.

With a bestial snarl, he pushed back on them, teeth grit as he dragged himself back up with but sheer willpower, shouting to Cher'tak, "Warmaster! Rrrrelease...open the cage!"

Yanking some distance, the he arced his force lance at an approaching ninja, who seemed to have thought the ensnared Drokar an easy target. He'd likely learn better then and there, for Arek's strikes tended to be highly accurate, and even using the lance in the manner of a staff, the denim-scaled draconian could do some serious damage.

The black-suited man he'd taunted just before, however, faced no such immediate threat, and thus drew his pistol - only to get a faceful of what was likely to be the most unusual projectile he'd ever done seen.

"Spastic headcrab!" Drago's voice called out not an instant before a spiderling flung itself at the man's head and stayed there, clawing and hacking away, as well as performing a field analysis of just what it was attacking.

What data did it get?

Drago himself, having warped in with his entire entourage of arachnobots, took immediate charge of the situation, maneuvering his mechanical menagerie into advantageous positions, where they could most tactically apply their talents to the assault - and of course, he didn't stop at the spiderbots. He may not have been an immediate adaptor, but he was a very competent leader, and could direct most any fight to his side's favor...