LadyAndreca

LadyAndreca: What do you want for Christmas?
Ctab: I'm not sure!
LadyAndreca: Neither am I.
Ctab: Oh.
LadyAndreca: Should I ask Kelp for a body for you?
Ctab: Yes! Conquer the world!

[ QUOTE ]


I was under the understanding that while Elude was running you couldn't attack.

[/ QUOTE ]

That's what the original guidebook said, and that was the case way back in the beginning. However, SR was found to be vastly underpowered, so we were given increased defense in our passives and toggles, and allowed to fight with elude running.

Then they decided we were overpowered and changed it in I4 so that even with perma-hasten you couldn't have perma-elude.

Then came the global defense nerf in I5. We were hurting, but most of us could still survive.

Then came ED. Without Elude, our melee/ranged defenses are now lower than those original 'underpowered' values, though our AoE is okayish. They gave us a tiny amount of resistance in our passives, which doesn't even activate until we've already been hit, to 'fix' this. With Elude, which isn't up NEARLY as often as a lot of people want it, we still do fine.

((I had one half-written, but I couldn't get it up to the word limit. It's stuck somewhere around 375.))

What a way to start the conversation...

Ctab: What's having a gender like?
User: It's pretty confusing.
Ctab: Plumbing?
User: Well, that's only part of the problem.
Ctab: No problem here, either!
User: That's because you don't have a gender.

After running around on Test, I've yet to notice this buff. I dunno. Maybe it's because I only have 2 of the 3 passives. (No Agile.) Maybe it's because I don't stare at the numbers flying through my combat tab. But the only thing I'm noticing from the I6 changes is that I'm getting hit a lot more often. And if I don't have spare greens in my tray, that means a lot of hurt.

Oh.

And is it just me, or does it just seem silly to give a set whose sole focus is not getting hit an ability that requires getting hit to activate?

Heh. I've been trying to teach it to ask Kelp for a body.

((*sneak sneak....BUMP!....flee*))

((Written by Mike and I.))

“How many of these things ARE there?” Kir’s normally emotionless voice was tired and irritated. She swung at another zombie, sending it sprawling with an energy-enhanced punch.

"Enough," was Hiro's quick response as he cut down another one. "Behind you!" he shouted.

A blast of something wet, warm, and acidic hit her right between the shoulder blades; she gagged and spun, fists glowing, to throw a double-handed punch at the zombie that sent it sprawling to the ground. It didn’t get back up. “If this keeps going,” she panted, breathless, “we’re going to be in trouble.”

Hiro juked to one side and slashed quickly at another shambling horde. An Abomination sprung from around the corner and backhanded him, sending the once ninja flying against the wall. He slumped against the wall and the zombie horde turned toward the easy meal.

“No!” Kir reached within herself, pulling at more power, and launched herself at the zombies, fists flying. She was not losing him, not Hiro, not her only friend and her only link to her barely-remembered past. She could vaguely feel blows slamming into her, more caustic wetness sliding down her back and arms, but she just fought all the more fiercely because of it. A wave of dizziness swept over her, but she dug even deeper within herself, pushing more power into her attacks, until she was vaguely aware that only one of the reapers was left. He stared at her, then spitefully took aim with his crossbow and fired, not at her but at the defenseless Hiro. With a scream of rage, she threw herself at him, hitting him hard enough that the crunch of bone was audible—both from the hit and from his landing on a metal catwalk more than ten feet away.

Hiro groaned and fought to get his vision to clear. He felt a wetness at his shoulder and a pain. He groaned, showing that he was alive.

Kir turned to him, a hint of a smile on her face. She took a step towards him, and tumbled to her knees as a wave of nausea and weakness swept over her. In some corner of her mind, she struggled to figure out why it was suddenly so hard to breathe, desperately trying to draw air in through a throat that felt like it was closing up.

Hiro looked up and groaned. "Told you," he coughed. "Using too much energy...you can't go slinging it around like that or you'll be dead within the year."

Kir tried to answer, tried to force words out past the tightness in her chest, but couldn’t get enough breath to be audible. She doubled over, supporting herself with one hand while clutching at her chest with the other, trying to make the knot of constricting pain go away so she could breathe.

Hiro spoke to her in calm, easy tone. "Don't fight so much. Remember your meditations, the ones I've shown you. Calm, be calm and remember and follow it to the letter. It works if you let it."

She fought it for another few seconds before his voice and tone penetrated. Then her conditioning kicked in and she relaxed with the soothing calmness of his words. She collapsed to her side, breathing shallow but slowly growing steadier.

"Good," he said with sigh. "You can't keep doing this. How long have I been saying this? Believe me yet?"

It took a moment for her to gather her breath to answer. In an exhausted whisper, she managed, “I can’t stop, Hiro…I’ve tried…I really have…”

"No, you haven't. You say that, but you know that you rely on it. It's your crutch, always there and always able to work despite the cost. You use it carelessly, flinging your energy around like there was more to spare, but there's not and one day you'll go to tap that reserve and that crutch will snap under your weight, before you keel over," he replied evenly. "Conditioning can be broken if you really honestly want to try, but you really don't do you?"

She stared up at him, eyes apologetic and fearful. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered, struggling to stay calm and keep her breathing under control.

"Then you have to change." It was a simple statement that carried a lot of weight and implications.

With effort, she pushed herself back to a kneeling position, battling another wave of weakness and dizziness. “How?” she managed.

"You must leave here...” he held up a hand to stop her protest "...I know people that can train you. They will break this conditioning of yours and let you really live." He paused. "And if you want to come back after that…" He spread his hands.

She sighed and bowed her head in acceptance. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

"Not anymore," he said, getting to his feet and offering her a hand.

She took it and let him pull her up; she was so weak she had to rely on him almost completely for support. “Then…then I have to do it.”

He nodded. "Let's get you on a plane."

[ QUOTE ]
I've alluded to this in a couple of places, but I wanted to describe something we'll be doing for Super Reflexes quite soon...

Super Reflexes Auto powers (Agile, Dodge, and Lucky) now add some minor damage resistance. This Damage resistance starts at 0%, but improves as the caster loses HP. The Resistance kicks in at 60% HP (when HP bar first changes color) and markedly increases at 40% and 20% (again, when the bar changes color). We have not yet determined the exact values.

This change is in addition to the recent modification that gave most Defense Primary and Secondary powers resistance to Defense Debuffs (self Defense powers).

[/ QUOTE ]

Hmm. Well, I guess it's something. I'll have to test it or see some numbers before I get my hopes up though.

((*sigh* I'm having a rough time with this one. Started and scrapped three already.))

*nod* Thanks for fixing that. It makes me feel a little bit better about my FF defender and SR scrapper.

Hmm. I may actually write for some of my lesser-known alts this time around; the subject is perfect for some of them. *prods at the ideas bubbling in her mind* And THIS month, I'll have no cross-country moves getting in my way.

((Spoiler alert: The story is based off a Rikti mission in the early 40s. Not a story arc mission, though.))

“Just like swim practice,” Caytlin whispered to herself. “You can’t hesitate when the gun goes off. You gotta go.”

It wasn’t so easy to convince herself of that. She was still very small for her age (and, to tell the truth, starting to worry that she’d never get taller), and those guys behind the fence were all really tall and muscled and yelling stuff about ripping buildings down and killing things. She shivered as one of them glanced at her with glowing green eyes.

She bit her lip, awkwardly hefting the heavy sword with both hands. She had to know what had happened to her mother—and that meant becoming a hero. And THAT meant she had to do this.

She took a deep breath, and took the plunge.

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all okay
And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these

(Fourteen months later…)

Quest smiled as she felt the familiar rush of…well, whatever she was traveling through. She knew a lot of heroes who complained of portal sickness every time they took the plunge, but to her it was always exhilarating. She grinned to herself, wondering how long it would take her to earn the ‘Portal Jockey’ badge she’d seen some of the other heroes sporting—she wanted that one badly.

Then she stepped out into Dark Astoria. Or at least, this world’s version of it; the graves were there but the architecture was different. Reflexively she glanced back to make sure the glowing orange box was still there; after her first portal trip had nearly trapped herself, her classmates, and their ‘chaperones’ in the Praetorian dimension, she always made sure her link home was stable.

Looking around carefully, she spotted the Rikti she was after…but also the familiar robes of the Circle of Thorns. Were they on her side or against her, here?

“I know not what you are, but you shall be a useful sacrifice, I’m sure.”

Quest blinked at the speaker, one of the bigger winged demons. He was talking to the Rikti he was fighting, but that answered her question pretty well.

I won't be made useless
I won't be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear

The behemoth roared with laughter as she moved out from behind the rock. “What is this? A resistance cell? Children playing at being ‘heroes’? Hah!”

She simply smiled. She’d learned an interesting thing about the Circle of Thorns a very long time ago—they were very powerful, but had little defense against solid weapons, especially the bladed ones she and Mike fored. Most of the Rikti weren’t much better. She squinted through the mist at the one in front of her. Armored, of course…probably one of the mentalists. He’d have to go down first; if he broke through her concentration she could get hurt very badly very quickly.

My hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

A few minutes later, picking through the graveyard to the gleaming white machines, she saw something she hadn’t been expecting: a human. A normal, average human, backed against a gravestone by two Thorns. Quest didn’t know what they had planned, but the woman was obviously terrified. “I don’t think so,” Quest muttered.

A minute later, the dazed slave stared at the two Thorns, both knocked flat by the teen’s sword. “Ohmygod…you…you’re a hero!”

Quest blinked but nodded. “Yeah. Questing Eagle. I came here to stop the Rikti.”

The woman seized on her words. “You came here? As in, from somewhere else?”

“Um. Yeah. I’m not from this world.”

“There’s a path to another world? Let me find my children, and if you let us, we’ll go!” Her eyes begged Quest for help.

Oh, why not. It’s not like there aren’t a few thousand other dimensional refugees there. A couple more can’t hurt. She smiled at the woman. “Sure. Go down that path there to the red box, and through that. You might run into a little trouble from the guards on the other side, but tell them I told you to go and they’ll treat you okay. If there’s any trouble, just hang on and I’ll clear things up when I get back.”

Poverty stole your golden shoes
But it didn't steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn't ever after

She HAD meant to just come to this world, sneak around, and disable the Rikti’s devices, like she’d done in the last couple she’d been sent to. But something about that woman and this world drove her to explore every inch of the walled-off area. She found a good half dozen people, some who begged for time to get their families, some who simply nodded in shock and made their way to safety. She picked her way through carefully; the Rikti and Behemoth Lords were so close and fighting so fiercely that she often had to deal with more than one group at a time. But she was cautious, and got nothing worse than a handful of cuts (none dangerous), a bit of singed hair, and a torn cape.

We'll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what's right
'Cause where there's a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing

Screams. Quest had been doing one last fly-around, to go back and disable the machine she’d had to skip and to look for survivors, but she whipped around at the sound and darted through the air towards it. The great demon she’d been so careful not to arouse had noticed the refugees fleeing under his nose and was taking to the air after them. Given that his wingspan rivaled that of a small plane, the terrified refugees were panicking. Quest scowled. She had no chance alone, but they were going to die if she didn’t act. Rising sharply, she positioned herself carefully. She hesitated for a minute, then unclipped one of the little canisters from her belt, peering at the Kora berries within. She didn’t like wasting the precious fruit she and Mike had collected together, but she needed it. She tilted her head and poured the berries into her mouth, barely taking the time to chew before she swallowed.

She took a deep breath and dove for Baphomet at full speed, slamming into him and cutting him deeply. He started healing almost instantly, but the fact that she’d cut him drew his focus to her. “Devour your soul!” it roared, lunging for her. She danced back, swinging at his arms and hands, ducking past him to score his legs. Slowly, slowly, she was whittling him down. He roared in agitation swinging at her with a blade of pure flame that was longer and wider than she was. Somehow she managed to avoid his slashes.

She couldn’t stay lucky forever, though. One instant she was in under his guard, swinging her sword at his unprotected stomach, and the next he’d leapt backwards and swung that blade of fire at her. She was just a fraction of a second too slow, and she was suddenly bathed in an inferno so painful she couldn’t even scream. Her med bracelet beeped in protest and activated before she could even pass out from the pain.

She staggered out of the bay, which got her a sympathetic look from the nurse who had hurried to make sure she was okay. Reassuring the nurse that yes, she was fine, she darted downstairs and out to Portal Corps again. However, when she got there, she was informed that since she’d done her job—closing down the Rikti portal—the world had been shut off as soon as she returned. She couldn’t go back.

My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters

“Several refugees made it back through the portal before you closed it. They are receiving care and aid.”

Quest grinned as Angus McQueen’s dry voice thanked her for the mission completion over the comm. Just knowing that made the whole ordeal worth it. “Thanks for letting me know, Angus. I don’t suppose you’ve got another, do you?”

My hands are small I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

We are never broken

Song: "Hands", Jewel

A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

It was the worst kind of winter day, damp and windy, but with snow threatening but refusing to fall. The cold was bitter, and Elena shivered as the cold pierced straight through her shabby clothes and snow seeped into her shoes. The cold didn’t bother her cybernetics much, but where the metal was connected to her skin ached so badly she was almost crying. Common sense told her to get out of the cold, to find someplace warm to spend the night, but she remained shivering in the doorway, watching the windows of the building across the street.

Christmas at the Eagle residence was always an extravagant affair; it was Rita’s favorite holiday and she spared no expense when it came to decorating. As Elena watched, Jessica and Caytlin were taking turns placing ornaments of real glass and of hand-carved wood onto a beautiful freshly-cut spruce. Elena frowned, remembering when she had been in that rotation as well.

She caught sight of Rita and Terry carefully unpacking the other decorations, with Rita handing the stockings to her husband to hang at the fireplace. She drew one out and held it up; Elena’s eyes widened as she recognized the cross-stitched pattern of hers. Without meaning to, she took a step towards the house, half wondering if it would be possible…

But Rita laid it aside and pulled Caytlin’s out instead. The half-formed hope died before it could become full-fledged emotion.

There was no place for her here anymore. She turned away.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

No matter how bitter the weather was, people were still out doing their shopping for the various celebrations and parties. No one paid the least bit of attention to someone as scruffy and insignificant as Elena (except for a few wary sales clerks), and she liked it just fine that way. She walked through the crowds like a ghost, observing silently the holiday rush as shoppers, determined not to wait to the last minute to buy gifts, rushed here and there. They fought with each other for items that there were plenty of, spending money in quantities Elena could barely imagine to buy items that were unbelievably useless and extravagant. She shook her head and kept walking.

The last Christmas had been different. She and Blaze and the others their age had spent all year trying to save enough change to at least fill stockings with candy for the holiday, but they all (except Blaze) had been pleasantly surprised when a pair of Warriors had showed up with presents from ‘Santa’ for the kids…

She shied away from the rest of the memory. Those days were over and done with, and weren’t coming back.

Don't talk of love,
Well, I've heard the word before.
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

She leaned against the railing at the boardwalk, looking out over the ocean. It was STILL hard to believe that both Blaze and Caytlin had betrayed her. Nothing cuts quite so deep as betrayal by a loved one, and while she was numb now, the wounds were still there. If she could have cared, she would have been seething to see her sister pretending to be so meek and obedient, calmly trimming the tree while the family didn’t suspect a thing.

“I’m never letting anyone get close ever again,” she told the ocean. Waves moved in and out, unconcerned with her insignificant human views. She looked down at her metal hands, thinking of that satisfied smirk that had been on her sister’s face and imagining walking into her parent’s house and strangling the brat. “I’m never trusting anyone again. Ever.”

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

“I’m leaving. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, until a puff of wind blew the steam of her breath away. She wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but it sounded so right. She wanted to get away from this place, where every single thing she had cared about had either been destroyed or forgotten her.

Someplace where she could be herself, on her own. Somewhere where she would have nothing to fall back on but herself and would need no one. She looked up at the stars. Another city wouldn’t be far enough away, and besides, she had no money to get there. But if there were a way to reach another world…

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

"I Am A Rock", Simon and Garfunkel

((This is not Hope's current theme, but this WAS her theme when I first made her, and it fits so well with her story. Hope first appeared in our Paragon on the 22nd of December.))

((*grins and opens Word*))

Celebrant

Caytlin rolled over and looked blearily at the alarm clock. It took her a while to figure out why it was going off at 6:45 AM, but after a minute she dragged herself out of bed and turned it off. She moved quickly to get dressed and brush her hair, then snuck out and left a silver-wrapped present and card on the table. She smiled and moved back to her room, leaving the door open just a crack as she settled in to wait for Mike to wake up.

In another room a pile of sheets and quilts and two pillows snored on. This lasted a good while until a young man with brown hair and bare chest sat up, muttering something about bacon and snow tires. Still half-asleep his legs guided him out of his room and into the bathroom for normal morning bathroom duties before they, being more awake than the rest of him, guided him down the hall as mouth sleepily babbled something about toast and juice. The eyes were still not REALLY awake, only being half open to avoid anything painful that the body might run into had they been fully shut. The brain, however, was still asleep, not caring a lick about breakfast, bathrooms, or bacon and snow tires. The bushy haired young man shuffled over to the fridge and popped it open long enough to grab two breakfast burritos and toss them into the microwave. The feet tried to wake the brain with messages about how cold the kitchen tile floor was, but they were summarily ignored. Juice was quickly poured and the pajama bottom-clad teen shuffled to the table to eat his breakfast.

It took several minutes to register something out of the ordinary on the table. The eyes blinked several times as the brain grumbled about being woken up from it dreams of randomness and noted that it was a package and a card. The fingers fumbled with the card, being mostly asleep themselves they dropped the card under the table. The brain cursed the fingers and the young teen bent to pick it up smacking the back of his head on the table edge after he had grabbed the card. Rubbing the back of his head, Michael Frost opened the card and peered inside, trying to get the eyes awake enough to make out the blurry letter like objects on the card.

Caytlin smiled affectionately as she watched her ‘bear’ grumble through his morning routine. Normally she wasn’t much better, but anticipation had her alert. She winced as Mike bumped his head but otherwise was trying not to giggle. She opened the case next to her, waiting for the right moment to come out.

The card was simple: brightly colored balloons on the cover, the kind you write your own message on the inside. The message read, “It’s probably really mean of me to spring this on you first thing in the morning, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I’m really really sorry it’s late. One of these didn’t come in with the rest and I had to wait for it. I really hope you like it. With love, Caytlin.”

Seeing who it was from and that it was for him, he blinked and forced himself more awake than he had been previously. He smiled and glanced at Caytlin's room and wondered if she and Jessie were awake yet. He decided not to bother them and reached out for the package, trying and failing to open it quietly as he thought the other two were sleeping.

The box was about the size of a small shirt box, but surprisingly heavy. What lay inside…was a hardcover book, maybe about the size of a yearbook, with a picture of him on the cover, in midleap with a serious look on his face. The book was simply titled ‘Chrome Fist: The First Year’. Scrawled on the inside of the cover in silver ink was a short message from Caytlin: “Happy anniversary, love”.

Mike blinked and picked up the book and looked at the cover. "I don't remember that shot." He smirked in amusement for a moment. "I gotta big nose..." he mumbled to himself and then flipped through the book. He smiled warmly at the written words and looked lovingly towards Quest's room.

Caytlin smiled back, though she was hoping the door hid her. There was more to her surprise, though, and she had to stay hidden just a little bit longer. She shifted slightly in anticipation, eyes dancing.

He shook his head and chuckled, having not seen her at all. He picked up the box once more and peered inside. The next two books were identical, except that one was spiral-bound and one was hardcover. The picture on the cover was of Mike sitting on the edge of the couch, eyes half lidded as he played his guitar and sang. Both were titled ‘The Music of Michael Frost’ and had every completed piece of his music Caytlin had been able to find properly printed out in a professional format.

Caytlin bit her lip and slowly eased the door open, trying not to attract attention, and slipped around behind him with her guitar.

Mike blinked, stunned, as he flipped through the books and looked at it all. "I don't believe this,” he muttered as he sat there. He didn't notice Quest's movements.

Caytlin took a deep breath and quietly sat on the arm of the couch. She carefully played the opening chords of one of his songs, concentrating to make sure she didn't make any mistakes. Her playing was hardly up to par in most cases, but this song was one of the simpler ones Mike had written and she'd been practicing hard to make sure she had it right.

Mike turned at the sound and smiled widely, tickled pink by all this. Caytlin smiled back, promptly flubbed a chord, and acked. But she recovered fast enough that she was able to start singing on cue, though her playing was much shakier now that she was doing two things at once. Mike set aside the various items and stood and moved to sit in front of her cross-legged on the floor with a smile. Caytlin had to give up on smiling at him to concentrate on the song. She wasn’t perfect, not even close, but she did manage to keep the song at tempo and recover from her mistakes. When she played the closing chord, she gave him a shy, sheepish smile.

Mike stood up without a word, smiling brightly. He gently took the guitar from her and set it aside. He caressed her cheek a moment and then put all his feelings and gratitude into a single kiss. A kiss only for her. She looked surprised for only a moment, and then wrapped her arms around him and returned it just as strongly.

Mike broke the kiss only long enough to slip around and onto the couch and pull her with to his lap with a grin, then kissed her softly again. "Thank you, my heart."

She giggled. "I should surprise you in the morning more often."

He grinned. "Oh really?" he asked, sounding pleased. "Why's that?" he said before he quickly placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

She smiled and nuzzled his nose. "I like the kind of thank yous I get?"

He chuckled. "All that and more await you, my heart. As much as I can give."

"So you liked it?"

"Loved it and love you," he said, embracing her once more. "I couldn't ask for anything better."

((This was another collaboration between Mike and I, to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Chrome Fist. Yay Mike! ))

Quest paused at the entrance to the cave. She always did that when coming here, giving the ghosts in the memorial time to realize she was there, to recognize her and accept her presence. She had never understood why the memorial had been built in the heart of Astoria, but with the Pantheon all around, it was only common courtesy to give the spirits time to recognize a friend.

The ghost she really wanted to see wasn’t here, though. She traced one of the last names on the plaque—Rita Eagle, the Lightning Eagle—and wondered where Lee was. She hadn’t heard from her in months, since she had left Paragon. Circumstances and suspicious but well-meaning friends had pretty much killed any chance for them to become close, though they’d parted on good terms.

Fara had told her, once, that even if a soul was reborn, it could still hear the people it loved talking to it. She had meant it to be comforting back when Quest had first found out her mother was dead, and Quest had taken it to heart. It was too painful to try to believe that her mother was too far away to hear her. Time and time again, when things were too painful or too difficult to deal with on her own, she’d come to this spot to pour out her troubles and fears.

She sat cross-legged across from the main mausoleum, remembering for a moment the brief glimpse of what she’d seen beyond it at Caios’ funeral, and sighed. “Hi Mom…it’s me again…”

What could she say this time? ‘Hi, Mom, just wanted to remind you that a year ago I found out you were dead’? Stern Storm’s regretful words echoed in her ears, and she bowed her head, remembering what it had felt like—as if someone had slammed something large and blunt into her chest and stomach. She couldn’t put any of that into words…

“I’m doing okay, and so is Mike…you probably know already we’re engaged…” She twisted her ring, smiling at the thought. “I hope you’re not mad. Both Maggie and Shin were—though, it was a lot easier to deal with Maggie yelling than Shin refusing to accept it at all. He still can’t help thinking I’m his daughter sometimes, though I think most of that’s been transferred to Jessie. She’s doing good too, just so you know. I’m not letting anything happen to her again, I promise.”

She sighed and pushed her hair back. “Cayt is driving me crazy though. I know she’s something like me inverted, but she’s IMPOSSIBLE. I think I finally got most people to promise to be nice to her—or at least, not to go out of their way to mess with her. I know she hates me for…well, crippling her…but I had to! There wasn’t any other way!” She shifted so she could rest her chin on her knees. “But no matter what I say, no matter how hard I try to show her I’m sorry and I don’t want to be enemies, she just won’t get it. I even gave her back the dagger I wound up with last November, and it didn’t do a thing. I’m not going to give up, but I wish she’d at least…y’know…notice I’m trying or something.

“Oh…and so you know…after the last time we talked…I’ve been really trying to think of myself as a hero. It’s hard. I’m not doing anything another hero couldn’t do…but when I try to step back and look at it…I kinda am doing some pretty cool stuff, I guess. I mean, did you know that I’ve only got one more SecLev to reach before I can go anywhere at all in the city?” She shook her head. “That’s crazy. I’m only fifteen…almost sixteen, I guess, but still!”

“This city’s so incredible, Mom. I have the feeling that I’ve barely explored any of it at all. I still wanna explore all of the little islands around Talos and the woods in Eden. I found my way to the heart of the sewers and even saw the giant hydra down there, but I’ve barely looked through any of the sewers at all. I wanna poke around Faultline, and Striga and Eastgate and even Astoria some more.

“But I wish you were here. I want to SHOW you all of this. And I want to know which places you found, what you wanted to show me someday.” She sniffled, and then laughed softly. “Dang it, I said I wasn’t going to cry this time…”

She looked up at the mausoleum, smiling a bit. “It would have been really different if you’d lived, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t even be a sidekick yet, ‘cause you would have made me wait until I was sixteen. I might never have found out I was good with a sword or so good at ducking, because I bet you would have trained me to use weather powers like you. I might never have met Shin or Maggie or Fara or Polaron—I mean Sol—or Grace or John and SARA. I might never have met Eric or Mike…”

She was quiet for a bit, thinking about the implications of that last sentence. “So…I guess what I’m trying to say is…I love you, Mom, and I miss you a lot. But I’m doing okay, so you don’t have to worry about me. Things are working out in a way I like.” She wiped the unfallen tears from her eyes. “Mike told me once—more than once, actually—that he’d go through everything that happened again if things worked out the way they are now. And you know what? I agree with him. A lot of what happened hurt a lot, but not as much as missing all this would.”

Quest stood and looked at the tomb, smiling. “I’m doing my best, Mom. I hope you’re liking what you’re seeing.”



“Earth to Lee…come in, Lee!”

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, Sent!”

“Where’d you wander off to?”

"Just thinking about Caytlin, wondering how she was doing."

“Worried about her?” He pulled the car over and turned off the engine. “We’re here.”

Lee slipped on her dark glasses and straightened her suit, then stepped out of the car. “Actually, I’m not. I have a feeling she’s doing just fine…”


Seeker of the Unknown
This tomb is used to represent the thousands of heroes who gave their lives in the Rikti War.

Guess if I preorder, I'm going to have to order from GameStop, since I don't play male toons.

*snickers* Now I'm tempted to make my empath leech (Ill/emp controller) do this....

(Written by Mike and I)

Upgraded

A clockwork marched up and down a stretch of hallway. Back and forth, back and forth. It had been told to keep watch on this section of the labs, and took its mission with utmost seriousness. Occasionally it would pause to contemplate a closed door, but for the most part it just marched. Back and forth, back and forth.

"Uh-oh," came John Phoenix's muttering once he got within sight of the clock. He stopped in front of the marching device and looked down at it. "What's all this now? You been drafted?"

The clockwork immediately ran in front of the door and spread its arms out, attempting to block him from the doorway. Of course, the fact that it barely came past his knees just made the scene laughable as it whirred chidingly at him.

"You know..." John started. "The garage is empty, no one around if someone wanted to, say, take things apart." He looked meaningfully at the clock. "The repairman's on break too...lots of time for curiosity…" The little clockwork considered this a moment, then seemed to brighten. It pantomimed John marching up and down the hallway instead, buzzing hopefully. John snapped it a salute. "You got it, sir." He held in a grin. All too easy. It saluted in return and cheerfully ran off to find something to drag to the garage and happily disassemble. John waited for it to get out of sight before turning back to regard the door before him. Carefully and trying not to be heard, he slowly opened the door and slipped inside.

Unfortunately, it was dark in the lab, and the light from the hallway spilled into the room. Fortunately, SARA wasn’t facing the door, but instead sitting in front of a computer bank, typing busily. “Bandit,” she snapped annoyedly, without looking, “for the fifth time, stay out of the lab! If you come in again, I’m telling the janitor how to lock you in a room!”

The lab itself was fairly impressive, filled with all kinds of machines for modifying androids. In one corner was SARA’s ‘black goop’ area, next to a bench where she’d apparently been playing with more synthetic skin. A long table was covered in messy sketches and blueprints for her body, next to a table that almost looked like it belonged in an operating room, surrounded by the machines SARA used to repair herself.

John leaned himself against the doorframe and grinned. "You need a better guard dog if the one you have consistently takes off at the first sign of a repairmanless garage."

“ACK!” SARA spun out of her seat, elbow hitting a folder and sending papers flying everywhere. She dove for them, getting most of them but coming up looking flustered. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

John smirked more. "What, no 'hello' or 'hiya John' or anything? Naughty, naughty, keeping secrets. What ARE you working on?"

She snatched up a dish of black goop from the desk and chucked it at him. It went several feet wide of its mark, and she scowled down at her arm. “Nothing! Get out of here, you big cave fish, before the lack of light makes your eyes pop out or something.”

John looked at the wide shot and raised his eyebrow. "You got your aiming sensors all futzed up or what? You're normally a very good shot." He remained where he was, apparently not leaving.

“No! I’m just still calibrating them!” She glared at him. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

"And you complain about ME being in here all the time?" he asked, amazed. "You DO realize there's a whole big world outside this lab, right?" He smirked. "You haven't been out of this room in several weeks! Maybe even a whole month!" His smirk slipped into a boyish grin. "What you got a pimple or something? You know I won't think any less of you if you got one." He teased.

She set the papers down and carefully worked her way around the tables, oddly stiff. “That’s another thing entirely! You just sit and work all day!” she answered crossly.

John grinned at her. "Well if you REALLY want me gone, you'll have to get rid of me yourself. No more relying on your little clock flunky." He smirked.

“Well, I suppose most of the chance of contamination has passed by now,” she answered. “But it’s still not really safe for you to be in here.” She advanced on him, smirking slightly. “I suppose I can always just pick you up and toss you out on your ear.”

She reached out for his collar, but before she could grab him her ankle made an ear-splitting, metallic grinding noise and snapped under her. Off balance and flailing, she toppled into him. John let out a startled squawk of surprise and awkwardly tried to catch her, wrapping his arms around her even as he winced in anticipation of a few broken ribs from her weight. Her momentum sent them both sprawling to the ground, her on top of him. John blinked, slightly dazed, as he looked up at her. Something was...amiss, but in the hectic post-action haze he couldn't get his mind around it.

Blushing—and noticeably warmer—she carefully shifted herself a bit to try to get some of her weight off of him and onto the ground. The move left her sprawled across his chest, face to face with him. A little breathlessly (oddly enough, yes, she was breathing), she asked, “So…does this mean you’ve fallen for me?”

John blinked and blinked again. "Umm…I guess so?" he babbled…then blinked again as his brain caught up to the rest of him. "You’re breathing...and warm...and soft…" he mumbled, somewhere between surprised and embarrassed. He WAS quite red.

She smiled softly down at him and propped herself up on an elbow, twirling his bangs around her finger with the other hand. “Are you going to let go of me so we can get up?” she teased gently. “I’m nice and comfy here—you make a good bed—but I doubt you’re very happy about being squished between me and the floor.”

He smiled back. "I dunno, I kinda like it here." He momentarily tightened his arms around her. "But if you insist..." He unwrapped his arms with a grin.

She carefully lifted herself off of him with a show of reluctance and sat up, probing at her ankle. “Another stress fracture,” she grumbled. “Maybe it’s the design and not the materials after all.”

"Can you get up?" he asked, concerned.

She looked over. “Yeah, I can get up, but I can’t walk. Help me over to the table?”

John grinned and stood up carefully. "I'll do more than that." He bent down and with a bit of effort lifted her. "I don't just sit in my lab. I do a fair amount of working out."

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she answered with amusement. “Though it’d be fun to carry both of us at once, I’d rather not have to.”

After several moments of struggling to get her to the table, he finally made it. "See?" he said huffing and puffing slightly. "Not a problem."

“Oooh, so strong!” She poked at his arms with a grin, then announced dramatically, “My hero’s arms may look like they’re filled with squishy yogurt, but I promise you he has the strength of two and a half men!”

((For those wondering, yes, SARA's getting rerolled again. For the fifth time. Which makes her SARA V.4 now. :P))

The only stealth power I really have much experience with is SI from Illusion. (Which, technically, is invisibility and not stealth.) I haven't gotten any of my characters with Stealth a high enough level to really have a feel for how it works.

Personally, I thought the point of Superior Invisibility was that it was the only invis power that worked in combat. Especially given its very high endurance cost--I'm using 2 endurance reduction DO's to be able to use it in combat at all. (She's SL 13. When I get SO's, I still plan on using 2 endurance reducers.) If you think about it, why would an illusionist choose to drop her pretense of invisibility when entering combat?

At the very very least...SI is a HORRIBLE endurance drain. If you're going to make it so much weaker, can we at least have it cost a little less to use?

Other notes...

- Grant Invisibility...that currently falls under the first category, right? Why surpress the defense on something you can't use on yourself?

- Group Invisibility is a primary power too! Granted, it's controller instead of defender, but still.

- I don't know if this was fixed on Test, but last time I checked, the going invis/reappearing sounds played EVERY time I got hit in combat. Which was often enough to make the sounds constant. They're not very pleasant. Distracting, annoying, and gave me a headache.

- If our stealth powers are getting suppressed, I sure hope the villains are having the same problems. (Especially the Knives...)

- My ill/emp controller can't solo Heroic on Live, much less on Test, without taking several hours per mission and racking up some impressive hospital bills. Her powers recharge too slowly--I can't keep a group of whites pinned long enough to not kill me as I arrest them. (Spectral Wounds is 1 acc/4 dam, Blind is 1 acc/2 hold, Flash is 2 acc/1hold. Other powers are heal other, healing aura, SI (too draining for lengthy combat), recall friend, and swift.) Now, arguably, I could have taken Hasten and Decieve instead of some of the others. But I actually respecced OUT of Hasten because it was too endurance draining. And I'd rather have the powers I've got and take Deceive later.


Finally...my illusion controller was the first controller that I ever liked enough to get above level 5. But the stealth changes combined with the general controller changes makes me just want to shelve her, or delete her, and never try a controller again.

* Supergroup Name: Legion of Young Heroes
* Website (if any): LoYH Headquarters
* Leader or Recruiting Officers: Girl Prodigy, Questing Eagle, Chrome Fist
* Preferred Method of contact: in-game /tell, forum post

Motto: Building The Youth Of Today Into The Superhero Of Tomorrow

Requirements: SL 10 (can apply earlier), character must be under 18 years old (or equivalent age, for non-humans), or a mentor/teacher, and must complete an IC application and field observation.

OOC Information:
This is a moderate to heavy roleplaying supergroup. You will be expected to remain IC on most channels (SG, team, etc), with OOC comments marked so. Participation in the IC forums and classes is encouraged but not required. A player may have two alts in the SG.

IC Information:
The LoYH was founded in the summer of 2004 as a city-sponsored high school for teen heroes of all 'origin' classifications. (In the past, students as young as 8 human years old have been accepted.) Besides the normal high school curriculum, students are trained in the uses of their abilities and their expected roles--combat and otherwise--within a team of heroes. Basic techniques useful to heroes (disarming bombs, search techniques, etc) are also covered.

The school is located in the COVER headquarters; it has separate dormitory floors for males and females, three floors of classrooms, and access to the COVER libraries, labs, training rooms, and medical facilities.

Well...out of the four costumes I was debating submitting, I think this one would look best on a maniquin, and looks good both indoors and outdoors. Aminia's on Virtue.

Aminia
Ami close up

I started to write up a big post on my opinions of what's been said in this thread...and just decided not to post it. So here's what I'll say instead:

Gotta love ya, Cuppa. Thanks so much for making a post letting us know we've been heard.

Bah, any word can be verbed.