Wildwind

Star Strider Forces Registry
Name: Skylancer
Global Contact: @Wildwind
Level of Classification: 39 Energy/Energy Blaster
Origin: Science
Super Rank & Super Group: Calamity of Trouble Incorporated

Name: Kitten America
Global Contact @Wildwind
Level of Classification: 45 Claw/Reflex Scrapper
Origin: Science
Super Rank & Super Group: WMD of Trouble Incorporated

Name: The Smokemeister
Global Contact: @Wildwind
Level of Classification: 31 Dark/Dark Scrapper
Origin: Mutant
Super Rank & Super Group: Mischief of Trouble Incorporated

And quite a few others...

((Thanks. And thanks for taking the time to comment, as well. Should have more in the next couple of days. Have also started building a virtueverse page for her, but it's not finished yet.))

((Well, well... this has decided it wants to turn itself into a full-blown story. Do y'all think I should take this to its own thread, or keep posting it here?))

Celeste stifled a yawn and propped her chin on her hand as she listened to the professor's monotone. This was a sucker class, she thought. Indeed, it was a trap worthy of Nemesis himself. Anyone would think that a class on "Heroic Literature" would be interesting and exciting, wouldn't they? Here she sat, though, trying desperately to stay awake as Professor McDougal droned on through his lectures. Truly, "Prof Mcdull" had earned his nickname, and she wished she'd heard about it BEFORE she signed up for his class.

The fact that she'd been up almost 'til dawn breaking up a gang war between the Freakshow and the Warriors didn't help. That the Warriors were better at reciting ancient heroic stories than her professor, though, made it almost painful. She found herself wondering if she could have gotten a better lesson by visiting some of the previous night's arrests in the Zig than by sitting in this class. She was sure at least two or three of them could tell her everything she needed to know about Jason, and they'd probably have been much more engaged by the topic.

She pushed down such uncharitable thoughts and tried to focus on what the professor was in fact trying to teach her. It wasn't *his* fault she hadn't gotten any sleep, after all. Besides, she was pretty sure a couple of her classmates had been at the same throwdown the night before, and they might be asking her for her notes later. Even more importantly, it would look bad if she fell asleep in class.

Even so, it seemed as though it might be a losing battle. Her eyelids got heavier and heavier, and the thought of putting her head down on the desk for a minute grew more tempting with each word the professor spoke. She'd read the story before, after all... she knew what it was about, didn't she?

Her rationalization was abruptly cut off by a shrill whistle from her pocket. she sat bolt upright, startled by the sound, and it was only when she saw everyone--including the professor--staring at her that she realized it was coming from her cell phone.

She winced at that. She was certain she'd set it for silent mode, and that meant the call couldn't be anything good. Like many of the ruggedized models built specifically for heroes, her phone had an override for emergency calls.

Fishing the phone out of her pocket, she checked the number. It wasn't one she recognized offhand, which was in some ways good. It wasn't her parents, and it wasn't one of her teammates from from TI... that eliminated most of the worst possibilities. On the other hand, it also wasn't one of her regular contacts, which worried her. She flipped the phone open, still acutely aware of the eyes of the entire class on her as she did so. "Hello?"

"Miss Alexander?" The voice on the other end of the line was shaky, as though he was nervous. He might be in trouble, she thought... but there was no way some random citizen could get her phone number. "I'm... I'm afraid I have some bad news."

She really didn't like the sound of that. Images of potential disasters swirled through her mind. *Was* it her parents, or one of her friends, in some kind of trouble? It had to be something personal; who else would have her phone number? She shook herself, throwing off the panic before it could take hold. "Ah... I'm in class. Give me a minute." she looked up then, holding her hand over the phone's pickup. "I'm sorry," she said to the room in general. "I've got an emergency, I've got to go."

The professor nodded understandingly to her, and she felt a little relief over that. He must have been able to see how disturbed she was by the call. As she stood up and slipped her way past other students to the end of the row, she heard a couple of whispered encouragements. "Good luck," one said. "Be careful out there," was another. She'd long suspected there were other heroes in her class, given the subject matter... from the tone of those quiet words, she became certain of it.

Once she had made her way out the back doors of the lecture hall, she took her hand off the phone. "All right, what's going on?"

"Ah, yes..." the voice hesitated again. "This is Dr. Harold, from Rhode Island Children's Hospital."

She froze in mid-step. That was the hospital she'd visited so many times as a child... the one she'd believed for so long that she would die in, before the miracle that had given her life back. It was the same hospital she'd been visiting of late,
donating cell samples in hopes that her transformation might yield data that could help other terribly ill children as well.

Why would they be calling her? What could it be, that would merit such urgency? Had they found something wrong with her, again?

The voice continued. "Miss Alexander, about the cell samples you donated..."

"Yes, what is it?" she pressed, his hesitation only driving her worries.

"Well, Miss... I'm afraid... they've been stolen."

It's been a while... but I'm back.

I really do need to make a VirtueVerse for this character, since she's my favorite, but this'll serve for a little background...

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Katherine Madison, R.N., stood in the doorway, watching the colorfully-arrayed youth as she moved through the ward, stopping to spend a little time with each of the patients there. Most would have considered it a heart-warming sight, she thought.

It was just the sort of thing that was the stuff of TV appearances and charity commericals. Over the years she'd worked at this hospital, though, it was an event she'd seen repeated hundreds of times. Some movie star, singer, pro athlete--today it was one of Paragon's "heroes" would come through and make an appearance, looking for a bit of a boost to their public image.

They were so practiced at this sort of thing, she thought, always seeming all concern and good will. Then, once their little visit was done, they disappeared as quickly as they came, seldom giving anything to the hospital and never appearing again.

She turned her critical eye on the "hero" in question. "Skylancer", the registry had called her. She was short for a cape, barely five-foot-two, and very slight of figure. Probably ninety-five pounds tops. She needed to eat more, Katherine thought; as she stood, a strong glare from a street punk might break her.

Even so, she didn't seem afraid of advertising her presence. No, she was quite the flashy one... all dressed in red white and blue, and all of it skintight, with a winged motif on her top and her tights showing a streaked pattern that spoke of energy and blazing speed. Even her white split cape, adorned with a starburst, spoke of someone who accustomed to soaring over the common rabble. No mask; clearly, she wanted people to recognize her.

She wondered how someone who clearly saw the skies as her playground could relate to these children, most of whom were bedridden or otherwise crippled in some way. Still, they responded to her with smiles... smiles she so rarely saw, and her heart softened a bit at the sight. Most of these children had precious little joy in their lives, and if one Paragon's high-flying heroes could give them a little of that, it counted for something.

"Skylancer" stopped at one of the beds, clasping the hand of the boy there, just close enough that Katherine could overhear what she said to him. "Don't give up, okay?" she told him, still with that smile. It was easy for her to say, Katherine thought, scowling again. As with so many of the other children in this section, the boy's condition was degenerative. The doctors didn't want to say it, but she knew from the looks the doctors shared with each other when they left his bedside that it was likely to be terminal.

"I know it's hard being stuck in that bed," the young woman continued, still holding the child's hand between hers. "I *know*. You've got to believe, though. This is Paragon City, miracles happen every day." She winked, and the boy smiled at her. "Trust me on this."

Platitudes from destiny's chosen, Katherine thought darkly.

"She's amazing, isn't she?" a voice spoke from beside her, and she turned to see Dr. Jemison, one of the senior doctors on the staff, standing next to her, holding a thick medical folder in his hand. "Look at the way they light up when she talks to them."

"Oh, yes, it's great," she mumbled, the words not coming out as sarcastically as she felt them. She might not care much for the cape, but she was determined not to let her mood dampen the children's happiness in this moment, short-lived though it might be.

"It's always nice to see someone take the time to visit these kids," Dr. Jemison added, smiling. Then, he spoke up. "Miss Alexander, we're ready for you now."

The hero looked up from her conversation with the boy. "Just give me a moment longer, okay?" she asked, and the doctor nodded.

Katherine blinked. The hero was young, no doubt, but not quite so young as to be a patient at this facility. She stole a glance at the folder in the doctor's hands, one that was overstuffed with papers. It was the sort of file one only found with the most unusual case studies, those where the doctors had tried everything in the desperate search for answers. On the tab of the folder was the label "C. Alexander".

Did the girl have a relative in this hospital? Was that what brought her here? It would explain some things... but Dr. Jemison had spoken as though she was the patient. She frowned, confused, and then the doctor spoke to her again.

"Miss Alexander is here to give some cell samples and let us take some readings for research, you see," he explained. "She always insists on visiting with the kids first, though."

Katherine could not quite suppress the look of surprise. "...but why? That's not really the sort of work we do here, is it?" She looked at the folder in his hands again.

"She was one of our first patients, actually. As a child, she was as sickly as any of the kids we have here now. I wish we could say we had healed her, but she was beyond hope. It... it took a breakthrough--someone else's breakthrough--to save her life; the powers she has now are an accidental byproduct."

Suddenly, Katherine understood. That was *her* file the doctor was holding. The file of a dying girl who'd somehow found a miracle.

"Lots of people wouldn't give it a second thought," Dr. Jemison added. "Especially considering we didn't save her. But not little Celeste. She's determined to try to give something back." He shook his head. "She's always been a special one, though. We should all be proud."

If Katherine were honest with herself, it wasn't pride she was feeling in that moment... but rather shame. She'd been quick to judge, to assume the worst. She could see it, now... the frail look of this young woman, the infectious joy she spread throughout the ward as she passed, the real concern she held for the lives of the children. She should have given the girl the benefit of the doubt, but she'd let herself become too jaded.

The girl stood up from the child's bedside then, and walked over to where they were standing. "All right, I'm ready." Then she turned to Katherine and smiled. "Thank you for taking care of them. I might wear the costume, but you're the hero
here."

The words stung, coming as they did from the girl she'd thought so little of, and yet, she felt something else welling up in her heart as well. Yes, she thought. She did take care of them. And she'd continue to do so. "I should be thanking you," she finally responded after a long pause. "These kids need hope more than anything else."

Skylancer shook her head, still smiling. "No... if I give them hope, you give them something better still. Faith, hope, and love, after all... but the greatest of these is love."

Katherine turned away, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. "I... thank you."

"You're welcome," Skylancer--Celeste--responded, then turned back to Dr. Jemison. "All right, lead the way."

The doctor nodded, and the two of them walked off down the hall, talking. Katherine watched them for a long moment, feeling compelled to look on the girl for a little time with more favorable eyes. Then, she turned back to the ward, and the children there. Yes, she would give them love... all the love she had to give. And maybe she could find a little hope there, as well.

Added a page for my redsider (who is threatening to become my new main character at this rate...)

Red Diamond

(QR)

Speaking as someone who's been running around Striga Isle trying to get my Legionnaire badge (defeat 100 Warrior bosses) on my 50 katana/regen, this badge is enough of a pain as it is. Warrior bosses are obnoxiously hard to find.

So if they started running away on sight, that would just make it a little bit ridiculous. Of course, I have superspeed (and, thus, stealth), so it wouldn't stop me from ambushing the first ememy in a spawn, but on, say, my claw/sr (who has SJ), it'd be really annoying.

It's not that I enjoy hunting down grey spawns, but when there are no level 45+ Warriors, I don't really have a choice in the matter.

So your suggestion has a little problem, until they start making on-level versions of every villain type for 50's, complete with boss spawns, and I don't see them doing that.

Back on topic... with regard to mobs running away more, the only thing I've noticed is enemies with range seem to try to get out of melee range more often than I remember them doing... which is kind of annoying when I'm playing my /DA or /Fire scrappers, but does make sense.

Very nice story, and a great reminder that ultimately every story is about people, rather than powers or costumes or the like.

*applauds*

Kitten America's page has just been updated (link in my sig) with her new costume (and some information about it). Also, a while back I added a bit of writing I did on the forums way back when for Kitten called, "The Girl in the Picture".

I frequently use my extra costume slots for "civilian" wear and the like, if the character in question has a really distinct look that kind of defines them (my characters often find themselves "locked in" to a costume for concept reasons... for example, Kayleigh of the Wind's costume is magical armor that she summons. Unless I somehow grant her new abilities down the line, she can't alter the appearance of that armor... it's not something she bought at Icon... it's centuries old. So her second and third costume slots are taken up by outfits I use for RP reasons when she's not in combat.

I might eventually add an alternate version of the armor with some minor modifications (recolor, perhaps).

On the other hand, the characters who are more traditional superhero (my energy blaster, for example), have multiple variant costumes... why should a superhero only have one costume in the closet? Nobody likes wearing the same thing every day if they don't have to.

The Roman pieces don't feel to me like something I'd implement piecemeal, though... I'd want to build a whole concept around them. Which is unfortunate, since that's not possible. Oh, well.

((jchinds, since Trouble Incorporated is based out of Kings Row, and one of my many alts (The Kings Row Rambler) is especially tied to the zone, I'm referencing a bit of your Row mythos here for consistency's sake... and because I like what you've done with it. If you'd rather I didn't, let me know.

I've decided to try to curb my raging alt-o-holism a bit, in the interest of actually being on one character long enough for people to recognize me. So for now, I'm mostly going to be playing Kitten America, Skylancer, and Miss Cherenkova. To that end, here's a bit of an intro piece for Kitten...))

The laminated paper card felt impossibly flimsy in her hand. It was hard to believe, thought, that it had survived the incident at all, much less come through it completely undamaged. Even so, there it was, the same as it had been before... when everything around her had changed. To look at it was almost to turn back time, to a more innocent day.

The dark-haired girl in the picture smiled back in the face of her stare, cheerfully oblivious to the chaos which had overtaken the world around her. There were times when Kitten almost envied that naivete, when she missed being able to look at the world without seeing the evil that lurked around every corner. Perhaps, as some said, ignorance truly was bliss.

No, she told herself. Ignorance is merely ignorance... and naivete was a dangerous characteristic in Paragon City. Still, there was a certain innocence about the girl in that picture that she wished she could have back.

Her gaze shifted to the writing beneath the picture. "Serina Willmore", it read, identifying that face to any who might gaze upon it. It had been her name before. Legally, it was still hers, and she still used it sometimes... but it felt almost alien to her now. Distant, as though it rightly belonged to another person.

In a way, that was because it did. Unlike her pefectly preserved SERAPH ID badge, Serina herself had not gone through the incident unchanged. When her experiment exploded, hundreds of glass shards had ripped through clothing and skin, and each fragment had been coated with small amounts of altered genetic material. SERAPH had wanted to know what Council super-solider serum would do to hero DNA; by the time they pulled her out of the rubble of the lab, she was a walking case study.

Since then, it didn't seem right to call herself Serina anymore. Serina was the girl in the picture; fair skin, dark hair, that irrepressible cheerful smile. Serina didn't have a cat's ears, or claws, or fangs, or a tail, and she definitely didn't have white fur and bright red tiger stripes from head to toe. Serina might have liked those things; she'd always loved heroes, after all, even the slightly strange ones. It was why she'd been studying metabiology. It was why she was working as a lab assistant at SERAPH.

Ultimately, it was how she'd become someone else.

It wasn't just the body... her mind was different, too. She thought quicker, acted more on instinct, chased down hunches as though they were fleeing prey. It was an apt comparison, as she did that, too. There was no mistaking the predatory instinct; she loved the hunt, and relished the fight. Hero work came naturally to her, as though she were born to it. She ran and jumped and felt the wind ripple through her fur, and she reveled in the sheer exhiliration of it all.

Serina hadn't been like that. Oh, she'd been friendly, bubbly even. She'd loved life with a passion, every bit as much as Kitten did now. She'd never been violent, though, and never much of a thrill-seeker. Serina was a girl that was afraid of roller-coasters, and would never have dreamed of jumping off a twenty-story building, or walking through the alleys of the Row at night.

No, she could hardly call herself Serina at all, no matter how much people told her the name suited her. It just wasn't her anymore.

She walked to the window, casting open the curtains to let the sun's brilliant light spill into her darkened apartment. That was something else she'd gained... an appreciation for certain small pleasures, be it a good stretch, a scratch behind the ears, or even just a warm sunbeam. She always insisted to anyone else that she was more girl than cat. To herself, privately, sometimes she wondered.

From the window, even with it closed, she could hear the sounds of mayhem. Back Yard Football, she'd heard they called it. She'd asked the Rambler about that once, since he'd lived in the Row all his life, and it seemed to be a local tradition; he'd just shaken his head and smiled. Still, it looked like they were having fun, and what was wrong with that? If a few Skulls got mauled along the way, they probably deserved it.

She could hear other sounds, too... downstairs, in the training room, Nanodrive was sparring with someone. Skye or Sky, probably, but it was hard to tell. The Row's old buildings were heavily built, and Ember had chosen the strongest one they could find to convert into a base. That she could hear anything happening two floors down at all was an artifact of her enhanced senses. It sounded like they were enjoying themselves, too. It was almost a surprise... when she'd first joined the group, she hadn't thought Angela was capable of fun at all. Maybe she was learning to lighten up a little.

She looked down at the badge again, turning it over and over in her hand. She wasn't sure why she had pulled it out of the drawer. Part of her wasn't sure why she had kept it at all. Maybe it was like that ex-boxer from the Rogue Isles had told her when they'd talked in the D. "You have to remember where you came from," he'd said. There was truth in it. She worried, sometimes, about what she was becoming. Her feral side was enticing, and when it came fully to the surface, the results could be frightening. It had saved her life just the other day, and psosibly some of her teammates' lives as well... but the level of violence she'd found herself capable of was more than a little bit scary.

Somehow, she didn't think Serina would have approved.

Walking over to her dresser, she stuck the badge up in the corner of the mirror. There, she'd have to face herself every day. Her old self, and her new self, too. Maybe she could find a balance there. She couldn't go back to being Serina again... and she didn't really want to. But she owed it to the girl in the picture to be someone that girl could be proud of. To be the hero she had always wanted to be.

She smiled. It was a cause she could live for. And to that end, there was work to be done. She looked across the room at the window again, and that smile grew into a fanged grin. It was a beautiful day... and the city was calling.

((Thanks. Hope to have more soon... still kinda hashing out the character of Hoshiko's grandfather in my head, so may be kinda slow going.))

((Well... this is just a start, really. And an introduction to a character I've not really done any RP'ing with yet. But hopefully there will be more to come...))

Hoshiko stopped at the doorstep, kneeling to untie her shoes, then slipping them off and setting them beside the door. It was such a routine now that she no longer considered the custom unusual, or even thought about it at all; it was simply the way things were done. Certainly, on those rare occasions she went visiting it drew comments from her friends, but that happened so scarcely anymore that it was hardly to be mentioned. Finding the door unlocked, she stepped inside and closed it almost-silently behind her.

The house was quiet, and yet she knew it was not empty. It was one of those senses she had developed; she KNEW when she was alone and when she was not. Now... she was not, but the presence that she sensed was a familiar one.

"Grandfather, I'm home!" she called out, shrugging her backpack off her shoulders as she walked down the entry corridor. Her room was around the side hallway, but if she guessed correctly...

She heard the sound of another door opening. "Ah, Hoshi-chan," her grandfather's Japanese-accented voice floated into the room ahead of his measured foosteps. The door closed again, and a few moments later he came around the corner. He had been gardening; she could tell by the dark smudges on this clothes. It was a hobby she thought she would never understand, but it seemed to bring him joy, and anything that made him smile was welcome to her. "How was your day at school?"

She let the backpack slip completely off her right arm, and the left strap fell to rest in the crook of her elbow It was heavy, but nothing she could not manage. "It was good, grandfather," she smiled. "I think I aced the math test, and we chose our project groups in Government today. We were working on our reports in Literature; I already finished mine, so I took the time to study. I have a little homework for the weekend, but I could do that tomorrow--"

"Hoshiko." Her grandfather interrupted her, his voice firm but not quite stern.

"I'll do it now," she answered crisply.

"Very good. He smiled his gentle smile again. "Always remember your priorities. Be a good warrior and a scholar as well."

"Yes, grandfather," she answered with a bow, suitably chastened. "And practice?"

"When you finish your homework."

"Yes, grandfather. If I may, I will attend to that now."

He nodded, and she bowed again before moving past him down the hall. Reaching her room, she stepped inside, closing the paper door behind her. The backpack slipped lightly to the floor, the smoothness of its descent giving the lie to its weight, and she slid it out of the way with her foot. Next, she reached for the clasp in the center of her chest; the strap was slung tightly around her body, from her right shoulder to her left hip and back. She released the clasp, pulling the strap up over her shoulder, and took hold of the sheathed katana that it had bound to her back. Her right hand rested lightly on the hilt, as her left grasped the scabbard, and she suppressed a momentary desire to draw the blade and swing it around the room.

This was no practice sword, she reminded herself for the thousandth time. This was a real weapon, and not for play. She carried it for a reason, not for frivolity.

If she wanted to further that reason, though, she needed to get her homework done. Setting the blade on the rack next to its companion, she loosed strap from scabbard and placed it on the table beside. Next went the school uniform jacket. She tossed that on the bed, then stopped, thought better of it, and retrieved it to put it on a hangar. Her grandfather would never let her get by with being that sloppy... and she had to admit that, as usual, he would be right.

She wondered yet again where she would be without him. Ever since her parents had died, he had taken care of her. It went beyond that, though. He had kept her focused. He'd helped her, though she doubted he'd had any idea at the time, find her direction in life. She could never have done what she was doing now without him.. and if he seemed a little odd to her still at times, it was an eccentricity she had come to love with all her heart.

Picking up her backpack and setting it down on her desk, she pulled the chair out and sat down to work. Chemistry was not her favorite class, but she strove for excellence anyhow. There was no question of why; it was expected of her, and a samurai did what was expected.

It was the way of things, after all. The way of the sword... and the way she had chosen.

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How about.. moving the variouse seating around a touch (or tweaking the collision meshes or whatever its called..) so we can actualy sit down in the booths and at the stools around the bar tables?


Please?

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Yes, please.

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Also, has something been done to the geometry of female faces? I was tinkering around with hairstyles and all the short haircuts made my character look like a drag queen. She used to have a soft, round face. Now, no matter what I do, her face looks incredibly broad/square. Even the Thin scaling looks masculine!

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I've noticed this as well. There is definitely something wrong with the scaling and proportion of the faces that no amount of fiddling with the sliders seems to fix. There used to be quite a number of the female faces that were quite attractive but now only one or two look 'decent' but even after adjusting them they are still too angular.

And count my vote in for adding the old hair styles back in. I haven't really taken a good look at the new ones yet but I just don't understand why it was thought they needed to be changed in the first place. They looked fine like they were and there certainly wasn't any complaints about them that I ever saw. If there were, they were definitely no comparison to the complaints about the new ones.

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Agreed on all counts, especially the faces. The last alt I created (a couple of nights ago), it took me an hour just to make her face look halfway feminine. This is really bad, guys...

I use them all depending on character concept, but my favorite is without a doubt fly. With three SO's in it, even suppressed it's fast enough to use in combat, and for a blaster, there's something about gliding around the battlefield blasting away.

And just last night I was engaging Raiders in the sky over Terra Volta. How cool is that?

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Just a quick note since this is a hot topic. Regarding the issue of Earth Thorn Casters stacking multiple Quicksands (and such).
Without getting into details, ALL CoT Thorn Casters have been reworked. The amount of control powers these minions have will be severely reduced or outright removed. Expect other related changes with all Thorn Casters.

This change will come in Expansion 5.

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This is truly glorious news. I have already come to hate Earth Thorn Casters with my /regen scrapper... I didn't even want to IMAGINE what it would be like with my /SR when she gets that high.

I don't mind difficult fights, but i *HATE* being rendered unable to act... and having Earth Thorn Casters use Quicksand and then RUN AWAY was about the most annoying thing I have encountered in the game to date.

Slow is just an annoying power. I'm sure there are a lot of people who would disagree, but I'd happily trade the Knockback resist on Integration for a resistance to movement speed reduction (or better yet, Slow in general, but that might be asking too much ). It would even, in a way, be more thematic... I mean, how does Regeneration keep me from getting smacked across the room?

Well, I've got lots of them, so here goes...

Dancing Edge is a former covert agent of the United States government. She can't tell you much more than that, though for those with enough connections there is some question over the "former" part of that first sentence. She is still on the government's payroll for a number of reasons which may or may not include the possibility that she is still working for them on the side...

Starblade is a college student, but the fact of the matter is that she spends more time doing hero work than she does studying. She does not really make any effort to hide the fact that she is a hero, though she does not advertise it either. Her family is well-off, and pays most of her expenses, though the research organization responsible for the experiment which induced her powers also contributes.

Shadow Ruby is just plain rich. She is, in fact, a former villain; having purchased a powerful magical artifact, she was seduced by its evil and followed its dark urgings for several years before a brush with death at the hands of a hero showed her just how far she had fallen. Now she is a hero herself, using both her power and her fortune in a determined effort to redeem herself...

Liberty Star - Full-time hero, part-time college student. As a child, Liberty always told people she would be a hero when she grew up, most dismissed her words as the dreaming of a child. Well, she's proven them wrong; in spite of having no real superhuman abilities, she has honed her martial arts abilities to legendary acuity. She doesn't make much money at it, of course, and a lot of what she DOES make goes into maintaining her costume (the superjump boots are expensive) and the motorcycle which serves as her primary transportation. She has considered talking to an agent of late... maybe her story would make good movie material...

Starflash isn't a hero. Never mind the license. Never mind the combat suit. She's a physicist, and she'll tell you that all day long if you argue with her. The fact that the Foundation has her out fighting crime in their experimental non-lethal-combat suit is beside the point... she isn't trained for this, she just does it because the other scientists on the team asked her to... and because she believes in the cause.

Krystalyne is a high-school student. Don't let that fool you, though, she's not hurting for income. Blessed with a remarkable intellect and a fascinating affinity for technology, she has made quite a name for herself as an inventor. Much of the gear she has designed has been put into service by DATA heroes, providing her with a steady source of income. Even after becoming a hero herself--she builds ALL her own gear, including the Cryo-Gauntlets and Power Boots that provide the bulk of her power--she still sells numerous inventions to corporations and govenrment organizations... not to mention other heroes!

Flare Dancer (who I just started on Virtue, and may get a name change) is the latest in a thousand-year-old order of demon hunters. It doesn't really pay much, but she's young enough that her family supports her in her endeavors so far. Still, being something of a rebellious sort, she does things her own way... and that includes moonlighting as a crimefighter. As she sees it, it just needs to be done...

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We're working (or more precisely our wunder-programmer Martin) on a change to melee combat that will enable you to hit runners. No more angling just in front of the fleeing foe - yep - you can punch him from behind!

We hope to get this into Update 3, but it needs testing. But I thought you'd like to know.

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Hallelujah!

This may be the best news I've heard ever.

If Regeneration is a "small concern" in terms of "maybe needing a small fix", I can live with that. It is, as it stands, possibly a little overpowered. What I am afraid of, though, is a more-than-small change that would completely decimate the set. It wouldn't take much... since healing rate is all Regeneration has, more than a small reduction in that healing rate would be crippling.

That, and I'd like to see a small boost to Regen in the levels before Instant Healing, since it's hell to get to 28 as a Regen the way it is now... if you're going to reduce the reward, at least make the drudgery to get to it a bit less painful.

(Well, I'm not particularly interested in participating in the other thread, but it would be out of character for Edge to sit in a bar and ignore something like that, so I guess I'm out.)

Glancing up at the new bartender... an impressive figure, it seemed, who could also help curb the violence which had presumably caused the furniture damage prior to her arrival... Dancing Edge smiled. "That sounds very nice, thank you." She wasn't terribly picky when it came to beer, but she wouldn't turn down a good one if it was offered. Really, she wondered why she drank beer at all... it wasn't as though her mutant power would even let her get drunk. It was, she supposed, just an artifact of the military men she'd hung out with during her training; they all drank beer, and she'd not wanted to be the odd one out.

Then again, she was always the odd one out back then. She was the mutant among humans, the soon-to-be-secret-agent among soldiers, the sword-wielder among gunmen. And it wasn't really all that different now, among heroes. She could feel the differences, anytime she was among them. The biggest difference between then and now... now it didn't really bother her anymore. *All* heroes were different. It wasn't just her anymore.

Taking the glass in her hand, she was about to drink from it when the question from the exotic-looking woman down the bar fell on her ears. She'd seen that one before, she thought. Twice, actually... they had some of the same contacts, it seemed, which said something for the other's security clearance. "Aliens, huh? I've seen more than enough aliens for a career, but I guess you never get away from them, do you? For now, though, I've been busy dealing with Nazis and over-cybered punks. At least they don't try to mess with my mind, though."

Usually, she thought. The damn vampyri were always annoying that way.

Dancing Edge smiled a bit as the man that had been annoying her up and left for no apparent reason. She didn't know what he was up to, didn't really want to know, either. He'd asked about some 'Emerald of Darkness', that sounded like a mystic thing, and wasn't really her department anyway.

On the other hand, she noted with some irritation that she still hadn't managed to get her beer, and continued to try to get someone's attention to rectify this.

Dancing Edge cast a dim look at the man who had taken the seat next to her at the bar. There were too many suspcious things about this gentleman. He was asking about the sword she carried... which might not be unusual if there was anything remarkable about the blade at all... but other than its high quality, which could scarcely be determined with it still sheathed, there was nothing to mark it as special. Then there was that name. 'Mr. Death'. Finally, the suit. Not many people walked around in black suits in Paragon, and even fewer of them frequented hero bars. It didn't add up. Did he fancy himself some kind of amateur assassin or something? Certainly didn't sound like any kind of Hero to her... and she could find nothing about him to recommend associating with him. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone a bit on the cold side of neutral. Better to get the conversation over with quickly and have him out of her way.

At that moment, she suddenly realized the bartender hadn't answered her yet. Must have gotten distracted by another customer. Waving in his direction, she asked, "Can I get a beer, please? Whatever you've got, but not the cheap stuff please."

My 32 katana/regen scrapper does not wear a cape on any of her costumes. It doesn't fit for her. She's an ex-government agent (and there are questions about the ex-) not a costumed crusader.

On the other hand, my energy/energy blaster does wear a cape, and it suits her just fine.

Gripping the hilt of her katana tightly in her left hand, Delta slipped down the metal-walled corridor. The bunker looked abandoned, she thought, but there was always the chance that someone had stayed behind precisely in case of an unwelcome visitor. Furthermore, the Rikti were no more stupid than their human counterparts, and they knew full well how to boobytrap an unused base. It was even, she told herself, likely that this entire bunker was one big trap just waiting to spring on an overly curious hero or government agent like herself to poke her nose into someplace it didn't belong. She could be almost certain that *some* sort of nasty surprise was waiting for her, it was just a matter of determing what kind of surprise it would be.

Still, she was not able to pay as much attention to her environment as she would like. If the weapon in her left hand was her only real defense, the radiation gauge in her right might well be her only warning. Intelligence reports indicated the Rikti had evacuated this base because of problems with radiation surges from their equipment. Since previous research had strongly implied that the aliens did *not* use nuclear power sources, this was viewed as both an odd and disturbing development, and she had been sent to find out why. That she might possibly have the opportunity to access the base's computer systems while there was nobody on hand to stop her was just a bonus.

Thus far, the gauge had barely flickered. Radiation levels were higher than normal, roughly five times the ten microroentgen per hour exposure one would experience above groud, but not so excessive as to pose a particular danger to human or Rikti. Either something more severe was going on deeper in the facility, or the intelligence reports were inaccurate. Again.

Was it a trap? Possibly, she told herself. That was the problem with traps, though; you could never be certain of one until you'd spring it. She continued to sweep the area with her eyes for movement, checking the gauge periodically for changes. She hated the distraction--it took her away from her established routine of an infiltration--but it was necessary. If there was anything she might encounter that her experimentally-amplified mutant regeneration powers would be unlikely to handle, it was a sudden lethal dose of radiation.

Nothing. The corridor was empty, and came to an abrupt end at a heavy security door. She pressed the meter up against the door, hoping to get some idea of what might be on the other side in terms of radation, but either there was nothing different or the door was too well-shielded to allow her a reading. Tapping at the electronic lock, she was surprised to see that it still had power. Whatever reason had provoked the Rikti to leave, they had done so quickly.
Or at least, she corrected herself, they had wanted it to look that way.

It took her only a about a minute to crack the lock; she had seen others much like this one before. The doors opened slowly, revealing a room full of heavy computer equipment... and a Rikti drone. The radiation gauge in her hand clattered to the floor as she held her sword in both hands, and she felt her heart rate surge as she tapped into her second mutant gift of superspeed. She leapt forward, intent on finishing off the machine before it could sound an alarm...

...then came up short. It was inactive, mounted on what looked to be some sort of diagnostic stand. The computers in the room appeared to still be running; stepping to one of them, she tapped at some keys. She didn't know enough of the Rikti language to try to crack this one, but she had equipment for that. Pulling up a device from her belt, she connected it to the computer's data-reader unit, and flipped it on.

Of all the equipment she had been given to work with, this automated code-cracker was the device she understood the least. In theory, it was supposed to be able to interface with any computer system, decipher its functions, then break its security and copy any data there might be to find. Practically, it was decidedly less effective than that... but they had learned enough, at least, about Rikti computers that it could crack *these* machines quite well. It took about thirty seconds, she observed, before data started scrolling across its tiny screen too fast for her to read.

She had almost allowed herself to become caught up in the little gadget's activity when she heard the sound. A footstep, she told herself. A *heavy* footstep, of metal boot on metal floor. Power armor, she told herself, and that would be Rikti. Another followed, then another, and another. They were getting closer. It must be a patrol, she thought to herself... one or two Rikti, by the footsteps, left here to watch for intruders. She cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner; in their power armor, they would almost certainly be shielded from any radiation issues of the base.

She was just reaching to reclaim her toy from the computer when the radiation counter at her belt shrieked an alarm. She looked down at the screen and her eyes went wide; the radiation levels in the room had just increased tenfold! Looking back up she immediately saw the reason. The far door was opening, and the radiation was flooding in from the far compartment. Worse than that, though, were the two Rikti in power armor and four drones standing on the other side of that door.

Too many energy beams, she thought. Even superspeed wouldn't get her out in time. Knowing escape was not an option, she invoked her first rule of battle: When outnumbered, attack. Charging at the first Ritki, she brought her sword around in a vicious arc even as he drew his blaster on her. The sword cut cleanly through gun and armored hand, and her follow-up attack clove helmet and head alike. By this time, the other Rikti had drawn his own sword and the drones had powered up their beam weapons. She rolled to the left to dodge the first volley of attacks, slashing out at the nearest drone as she moved. It exploded in satisfying fashion, and she leapt back to her feet to engage the others.

The drones were the bigger threat, she decided, as their beams could not be dodged. Tapping into her superspeed again, she danced through the searing strands of the interlaced web woven by the drones' beams, needing several steps to get close enough to the second to attack. Her sword flashed again, slicing the drone from bottom to top cleanly, and she moved after the third.

The Rikti's sword slashed past her then, grazing her right arm. She forced down the pain, and pushed her speed harder She needed every ounce of it for this fight, to take everything the experimental amplifications had bought her. She was moving faster than her eyes could adjust, fighting on instinct and memory. The drone had been there, she told herself, slashing out and hitting her target once again. One to go. She turned, leaping to close the distance...

...and then everything seemed to stop.

No, not stop. SLOW. Slow like she had not been since as long as she could remember. Still moving, but seemingly suspended in air for an eternity, she winced as she saw the drone's beam cannon build up for discharge. She couldn't dodge it, not like this. She closed her eyes, bracing for the pain she knew was coming...

...and it did, worse than she ever imagined it would. The cry of pain was torn form her lips as the beam struck her full-force, flinging her back against the one of the computer consoles. She dragged herself to her feet, her nerves afire. Searing pain in her right arm reminded her of the cut she had recived... it had not been that bad, had it? She tightened her grip on the blade, gritting her teeth, forcing herself to move. Still she was too slow, but her instincts were good, and training took over. One chance, she told herself. Rikti drones were relatively intelligent, but they never seemed to extrapolate on their enemies' abilities. She just needed to get a little closer. She could see the buildup as it prepared to fire again; without her speed, this would have to be perfect.

The drone fired, just as she pivoted to the left. Holding the sword in one hand, she thrust it outward as she rotated, executing a spinning attack with a bit more range than her sword appeared to have. The drone, as she expected, had calculated itself to be out of range, and was caught by the blade's tip. Only a scratch, but the impact knocked it off its balance, and by the time it corrected she had run it through.

Even as she pulled her blade free, though, the remaining Rikti had moved in on her. Its sword flashed again, and though she flung herself to one side there was no avoiding the swipe. It slashed across her body, tearing an inches-deep gash across her abdomen. She screamed, falling to the floor, clutching at her stomach with her right hand. The sword came down, and it was all she could do to roll out of the way.

Again the alien attacked, and she barely avoided it. She tried to push herself back up to her knees so she could stand, but the floor was slick with her blood, and she fell again. Rolling underneath one of the computers, she desperately fought for control; she wanted to retch, wanted to roll up in a ball, wanted to *die*, to surrender to the dizzying weakness that was starting to overcome her.

She refused. She would not die here. Not without finishing this fight. As the Rikti stepped closer, she forced herself to hold the sword with both hands again. She scrambled further underneath the computers, hoping she was out of reach. It would try to finish her off, she knew. If the Rikti had learned anything in their first days on Earth, it was that some humans were far more durable than they looked, and one could never be trusted to just die if left alone. She would play on that. It'd have to lean down with that sword of his to get to her, and she would have one chance.

That chance came. In power armor, the Rikti could not quite bend level to the floor, but it reached down with its arms, intent on skewering her with the blade. She slashed out with her own sword in that moment, cutting cleanly through one of its arms. The giant blade clattered tot he floor, and the Rikti stumbled backwards in shock and pain. She rolled out from her hiding place in that point, thrusting her sword upwards and running it through the armored torso. The alien fell backward, and before it could recover she pulled out her blade and rammed it in again with the last of her strength.

Then, finally, she fell forward, as unconsciousness took what she would not willingly give.

*****