MadGremlin

Sting angled his head so that he could see a little better through unclouded facets on his eyes.

"Ugly suckers aren't they? Wonder if the other gang has seen any of them?"

Sting made his way up and out of the autoparts store. On his way out he grabbed an air freshener and hung it in the mouth of Coolant's specimen. "Maybe that will get that funk off the thing."

As he stepped outside he could see the employees still huddled together accross the street.

"It was nothing, really. Just, um...a few rats. Might want to have someone in here to reseal your basement wall though - I think they might have dug a small hole through to the sewer." Sting grinned as he leapt away.

Sting cursed as he also tried to wash the remaining goop off. "#*%& my vision is going to be borked until my that heals!" Several rows of facets along both eyes were cloudy - like someone had taken fine grain sandpaper to a pair of glasses.

"Thank my freaking lucky stars for compound eyes I guess."

He turned to Mystic. "So who the heck do we tell about this crazyness, and who is going to believe us? Afterall, we are the 'police' around here."

Then he turned to RJ. "Nice trick with the floor there - quick thinking." He grinned, but also noted the damage that lifting the floor had done to his hands.

Through now partially fogged compound eyes Sting saw what RJ wanted and grabbed the shelving and started bracing it against the makeshift wall.

“What the hell was that thing?”

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The creature then stuck a long, purple tongue out of its mouth, tested the air, and spit a glob of green goo at Sting’s eyes.

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Had Sting not been so cocky and overconfident he might have dodged or at least avoided the worst of the goo. As it was, it hit him square in the face.

“Aaaarrgghh!” Sting screamed as the stuff burned his eyes. A normal, mammalian set of eyes would probably have been destroyed by that much of the green goop, but the hard cover of his compound eyes protected him from the bulk of the damage.

“You ugly son-of-a-gecko!” Using just his motion sensing antennae to target, Sting launched a small group of spines at the offending creature.

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Then a single, fat lizard leaped out of the hole. It was about the size of a German Shepard. It had strange phalanges, webbed feet and a big jaw. Its skin was grey and it sat there with its gold eyes, staring at the group.

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“Um…what the #%$& is that?” Sting asked. “That can’t be what the bone dude was so scared of.” Sting almost laughed at the ugly thing and how scared the Mortificator had been.

“Hey boss, you want me to play exterminator and rid us of this toad? Hmmm, or would I have to get rid of myself too…cause I am a bug!” Sting chuckled.

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“Hello, my friends. I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop in,” he yelled as he fought back a doctor with a meat clever. “I hope you don’t mind if I join this little party.”

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“Oh I think there are plenty to go around.” Sting said as he skewered a zombie with a large forearm spine – though the thing kept swinging at him until he stabbed it a few more times. Fortunately the zombies had little concept of tactics and failed to take advantage of their superior numbers. Sting continued to cut down zombies.

“Save one of those sick doctor dudes so we can get some answers!”

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Sorry folks, should have been more clear. In game I see peoples search comments say, "RPer, NO random invites"
I was just wondering how they leveled

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Believe it or not, many people don't need random invites to level. Supergroups, friends (global and server lists), and friends of friends generally make excellent and more reliable teams.

Um...not sure I understand your question.

While you are RPing, you still have to fight stuff and go on missions. You can't sit and chat 100% of the time.

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"Save that guy I'll try to keep these things occupied" Jabbing the next nearest, and getting acid puked on him for his troubles. Then he saw it. A zombie with a bomb on its back shambling into the fray. "Hurry Sting I got a walking bomb" RJ leaps at the bomb as it was going into its triggering stance. Pummeling as fast as he could swing, trying to keep it off balance long enough to destroy it.

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Sting saw the offending zombie, but fortunately RJ was keeping him busy for the moment – good thing the Vahz weren’t too bright. “I’m on it – bombs be bad!”

He jumped over the crowd and stabbed the zombie who was carrying the hostage, causing it to take enough notice of Sting that he could grab the man and run.

Sting ran around the group of zombies back toward the basement of the shop, being showered and clubbed the entire distance. He tossed the hapless employee back into the basement of the shop and turned back toward the mob of zombies. The man’s feet barely touched the ground and he was up the stairs, out the front door, and probably half way home before the sound from his scream was even heard.

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"Oh ya, sounds like a skulker. Ill get the door." A wicked grin covers his mouth below the Skull mask. He steps up with both hands over his head, fist together. "Ready?" He slam the door off the hinges with a loud crash, stepping aside to let sting into the darkened room. Following the glistening carapace.

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“Knock-knock, anyone home?” Sting chuckled.

There was a dim glow from a set of stairs heading down to a basement of the building. A variety of sounds emanated from that direction including what seemed to be a muffled cry for help.

Sting leapt down the stairs and into a small storage room. One of the walls had been smashed down and was now exposed to the sewer system. A large group of zombies along with a couple bone-clad Vahzilok lieutenants were dragging one of the store employees away.

“Great! More damn zombies!” Sting shouted as he ejected a cone of spines at the offending group – hoping to miss the hapless employee.

“Eliminate the foolish heroes!” One of the Vahz Reapers shouted. “We cannot afford to fight them as well.”

Sting had grabbed their attention, but it got him covered in zombie puke which burned and pitted his hard exterior.

“Ouch, that is gonna leave a mark!”

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"How’s your night vision, Mine sucks" Cringing, his whisper sounding much louder then he had hoped. "I'll go left"

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Sting grinned. “Compound eyes and motion sensing antennae – pretty damn good for catching movement, but not so good when things are keeping still.”

Sting headed to the right trying to step over the clutter and fallen shelves; cussing each time he stepped on something. “Found the damn wiper fluid!” He said and swore as he slid halfway down an isle.

A slight noise came from beyond a door behind the counter. “You hear that?” Sting hissed as he made his way toward where he heard the sound.

Sting received the address from Mystic and launched himself of in the direction of the automotive parts store. In a matter of minutes he was there, on top of a building across the street from the store. The front window was broken and the display of tires and lay on the floor between the shelves. Sting could see little else from his vantage point, but did see that all of the lights in the store were off.

“Hmmm, whitewalls were on sale.” Sting said to no one in particular.

Several employees in spiffy red shirts (with embroidered names) and black pants stood looking at the store from across the street.

Sting jumped down to take a look through one of the holes in the glass storefront. He could see some of the shelves knocked over and damaged. A fluorescent light fixture dangled from its mounting sending off a periodic shower of sparks.

“On no! They stole all of the wiper blades! Whatever will we do?” Sting feigned fear as he climbed in through the broken window. “I am going to be really pissed if they messed with the air fresheners!”

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"That is the case, hey you must be the one the Judge Jacobs meant. He said I'd 'be good company for the little bug' I assume he was talking about you. Although your not that small." He says as he tilts his head slightly to see him. "Glad to meet ya Poison." Putting out a half gloved leather glove to Sting. "Please ta mee ya"

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“Likewise.” Sting said as he shook RJ’s hand. “Yeah I am the resident psychopath, but I am more than willing to share the duties, if you are so inclined.”

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Mystic floated back out to the group. "It appears we also have a bit of a mystery regarding a damaged autoparts store. I suppose that Sting, rough justice and I could look into it. That is, if you chaps are up for it."

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“Ready to rock boss – that is so long as they will throw in a battery and a set of tires for us. Where is the store?”

Sting finally roused himself, the popping and cracking noises of freshly healing chitin echoing through his room as he stretched. He moved down to the main area and noticed a newcomer talking to Mystic and Abrahms. It took him a moment but he had seen news clippings on this vigilante – this was his kind of ‘hero’.

“You’re Rough Justice, right?” He said to the man. “You do fine work man. You joining us? Some psycho judge with a sick sense of humor figured you could mix in with the rest of us nuts?”

He turned to Mystic. “So what’s all the excitement about? Looks like everyone is going out to bust heads without little ol’ me.”

The way you describe it, it would seem to be Natural origin - there are no other influences except the person's own dedication and focus that creates the connection to the earth.

Alternately you could go Magic, if there is some kind of magical connection to the earth that is formed by such training.

Either one works.

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His stance changed as he spoke. Obvious to any hand to hand combatant, that he was ready to defend.

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Sting noticed Abrahms at the ready, even though he was trying to seem relaxed. But Sting was too tired to try to go a couple rounds at the moment.

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As the pain hit him, Coolant fell to the ground and nearly screamed in agony. Slowly getting to his feet, he spoke once more. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

As he slowly and methodically walked back to his chamber, Coolant turned on his voice suppressor so that no one would hear his scream.

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He leapt to his feet as Coolant went down, but saw Abrahms there to help already. Seeing how Coolant suffered Sting had a bit of a twinge of guilt – maybe just being a bug-man wasn’t all that bad.


((OOC: I will be going out of town starting Friday (22-Apr) and returning Wednesday (28-Apr). I will try to park Sting during that time, but feel free to move him around and have him act like a jerk as you see fit.))

Sting was tired, beat up, but generally happy that they had made it through the zombie attack. Now this cat woman was starting in like Ion had the day before.

“Listen up, EVERYONE!” Sting shouted as he walked into the middle of the room. “The next self-righteous [censored] that decides they can waltz into this place and tell us how wrong we are is gonna get F#$%&ing killed!” Sting emphasized the point by deploying his spines, and continued to pace back and forth as he ranted.

“We’ve had a few days to try to get this place even looking livable! We put a damned front door on the place and you walk in and blow it off that same day!” He pointed at Elisa.

“So anyone else that wants to step up and tell us how weak and stupid we are had better do it now, before my poison glands get a chance to recharge. Because I am sick and tired of people telling me that.”

He paused for a moment, letting his comments sink in.

“If you have constructive suggestions, why don’t you present them to the boss,” He pointed at Mystic, “and I’m sure he will take them under advisement. He’s a bright guy and a lot less volatile that I am. Heck, I’ll build a f&$%#ing suggestion box outside his door and you can put your crap in there. And I’m putting a sign out front that says; ‘Don’t bring your condescending attitude in here!’ I’m sure one of you yahoos can correct my spelling and punctuation.”

Sting walked back over to the steps and sighed as he sat down. “We just freaking fought off an army of zombies, you’d think they’d give it a break.” He murmured to himself.

Very nice. Fun stuff on there.

My one complaint would be that where the grey background darkens at the right side it makes it very hard to read.

I love the 'bullet' links to the other pages. Well done.

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Once he was done, he turned to Sting with a straight face and pointed his thumb towards the front door to indicate the zombies, “No tickets.”

He then spent the next few seconds trying to stop laughing.

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Sting tried to stifle a laugh but couldn’t. “Heh, Damn freeloading zombies!”

He felt reality waver for a bit as the building seemed to start moving. “Whoa! Looks like we are on our way.”

Sting continued slowly whittling away at the seemingly endless stream of zombies as they performed a fighting retreat inside the 2-6. The sound of the automated minigun hammering away was comforting as he watched it rip chunks off of zombies left and right.

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“You guys look like crap,”

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"Yeah, can you believe these guys messed up my hair-do?" Sting joked.

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Imagine your toon being interviewed on 60 Minutes, write the questions you want to ask, then asnwer them, as your character.

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A great idea that I have used myself. Make a list of questions (many PnP RPGs have these in character creation steps) and then answer them as if you are being interviewed. Usually you have basic ideas in mind, and then as you write your answers you fill in the blanks.

Focus on motivations - why would this guy be a hero? Sure he has powers, but why risk your life?

Commonly people use the 'levitating on a rock' concept for flight, though I am not sure that fits your concept.

Superspeed: The ground pushing you along as you 'surf' on it (seems to work well with your control of the actual ground).

Superleap: The ground literally throwing and catching you.

Teleport: Well, maybe almost instantaneous travel through the ground, but that does not explain TPing up into the air.

A large number of the flaming or singed zombies chased Mystic as he flew. “That guy is going to get himself killed! Newton, please keep an ear open for him if you need to pull him back.”

Cracks began to show in Sting’s chitin. More and more of the zombie claws and clubs were making contact as the spirit attacks slowed him down. The poison that had oozed from his spines was now mostly spent.

He picked up a table, and using his powerful jumping legs knocked down several zombies as he dove at them, pinning them under the table.

“Should we fall back to the second floor? They are coming in from the lower level windows, but I’m not sure they can get to the higher ones. Holding them off at the top of the stairs might be easier.” Sting shouted above the din of battle as another club-like zombie fist smashed into his back.

Sting started by ripping into zombies one at a time. When he saw a spirit fly overhead, he would hurl a bunch of spines at it to try to draw attention.

Soon his efforts were not enough and he was surrounded. He bent over and an explosion of spines burst from his body, impaling zombies and spirits alike. He continued the concentration needed to supply a steady stream of small, poison spines ejecting from his body, causing minor but constant damage to all around him.

Sting kept at it, tearing pieces off of zombies left and right; they fell, got back up, and fell again. He was only partially aware of explosions and flame going off around him. Every time a window broke, he would try to stick a zombie to the frame with a spine, but the zombies would even rip each other apart to get in.

Before long he was getting winded. Enemies were starting to slip past him and as he fell back he started to get too close to the rear ranks to continue his constant sphere of spines.

“Getting…a…little…tired…here!” He panted as he continued to remove zombie parts.

“That’s a lot of zombies.” Sting said with half a smile on his face. “I think this is gonna be my kind of fight.” He paced back and forth in front of the door looking at the horde outside, his spines deployed and greenish poison starting to ooze from the tips.

“Ready to rock when you are!”