Day 1: Ground Zero

Aug 26, 2015 2:41 am
It was the explosion that brought the team together.

An entire building in the middle of the busy financial district of Millennium City came crashing down after an explosion ripped apart the first floor. The initial shock wave sent cars tumbling backwards and hapless commuters hurtling through the air, before the intense heat followed, warping steel and melting glass, leaving terrible burns on the bodies of those unfortunate enough to not be killed right away.

The collapse kicked up a four-story rolling cloud of dust and particulate matter that filled the streets, driving survivors behind any remaining cover, leaving the financial district looking like a post apocalyptic landscape. Or a nightmare of when Detroit first fell to Doctor Destroyer.

Shaken survivors watched with horror as the streets blistered and glowed with intense heat, as the material melted away and hulking power-armored humanoids clambered upwards from below. Their visors glowed with a sinister red light and each carried strangely shaped rifles.

---

OOC: And we're off to start the game! Take the time to narrate just where your character is at this point in time, and what they're doing in response. This is a good chance to describe your character in detail, as these are the opening pages of the comic, so give me and the other players a good idea of who you're playing and what they're like.

I'll post after we get a full round of introductory posts.
Aug 26, 2015 5:22 am
When the first explosion ripped through the district, Khamal had just stepped out of the First Millenium Bank. The force of it blew through the glass facade, sending shards into the crowd. He instinctively shielded the closest bystander, a teenager, with his body, even as the force sent both of them staggering. Jagged pieces of glass sank into his flesh, and he winced at the pain even as he pushed the boy into cover behind a counter. "Keep down," he told him, shouting to be heard above the din of screaming people and alarms blaring. "The police will be here, I'll look for help."

Khamal was disoriented, the force of the blast still ringing in his ears. He could feel intense burning of the glass shards being forced out of his body by the closing of his wounds. His flesh, scorched in several places, was smoking. He shrugged off his suit jacket and ripped off a large swatch to wrap around his face. He would be seen today, and he would have to go through some effort hiding the fact that a large man impervious to injury was wandering the city.

"Battle." The command shook through his body as the Rune spoke. It spoke, as it usually did, not in words but in thoughts and feelings, straight into his head, inescapable, undeniable. He felt it pulling him towards the source of the explosion, and he ran past a panicked mass of humanity streaming away in the opposite direction. From the fiery crater of the explosion he could make out armored figures headed his way. "Kill," said the Rune. "Kill."
Last edited August 26, 2015 7:44 am
Aug 26, 2015 5:38 am
"They blew up me boozer. . ."

It had been a lousy day and all this fine Aussie gentleman wanted was a bit of the amber fluid and a shawarma. The traffic was awful and his van was acting up, the perils of buying used. Clint would have been in a foul mood if not for the beckoning sign that said "Ashot's Shawarma. We serve beer." It was so close and all he had to do was find a place to park the bloody van.

Then a building fell on his oasis.

He ducked under the dash as a piece of someone's car lodged itself into his van's windshield. Terrorists? What sort terrorists attacked a city full of super heroes?

Aliens from beneath the earth, as it turns out, and they've got their shooters out.

Clint grabbed his guns and knives and kitted up. He pulled on the bolt of his rifle and slid one of the large rounds into the chamber. Quietly, he slipped out and began making his way to a good spot to put some pellets into their heads.

"This is gonna be a real piece of piss, you bloody fruit shop owners." Clint said, taking aim at one of the armored figures.
Aug 26, 2015 9:37 am
"Reese, I think you'll find that the bid we offer for the construction of your project is quite reasonable. We've been over the numbers and you know very well the quality of work we can provide you." Justin finished his pitch. He sat down and looked across the conference table evenly as his prospective client pursed his lips. A tense moment passed, then the man nodded and spoke up, "Very well, we'll take your offer Mr. Graznata. You do come highly recommended after all by some mutual friends of ours." A smile broke out on Justin's face and he nodded in appreciation as Reese Sommers began to sign his conforme on the contract.

He caught the surreptitious thumbs up from his companion on this pitch, Marc Stevenson. Marc was a sharp engineer with the rare knack of having great communication skills, which was gold for sales and marketing, and a great asset when explaining technical details in simplified, business-sense terms. Between the both of them, they were able to field the multitude of questions regarding their proposal from both the technical and businessman's point of view. Marc edged closer and whispered, "Guess even ol' Sommers can't resist the Graznata charm, mm?" Justin was about to reply when a sudden roar from outside Sommers' offices shook the glasses and rattled their desk.

"Earthquake?" someone spoke up. "No, wait, there!"

As the dust clouds cleared, everyone's attention turned towards the collapsing structure of one of Millenium's iconic buildings. It took only a few seconds, but the building had already begun to fall and its pieces had already struck the ground. The broken edifice that was once one of the Millenium Towers sent a shock through everyone in the room. Justin took it in for a moment, then turned to Marc, "Marc, can you handle the rest of this?" The engineer seemed dazed as Justin forced his attention away from the building merely blocks away. "Wh-yeah, sure! My God, what happened...?"

Justin nodded and turned to Mr. Sommers, "My apologies sir, but I need to step out and check on my people. We have projects in the district and I need to make sure they're safe." The man Justin was addressing was scarcely less shocked by what had happened, and was happening, before his eyes, but had enough composure to reply coherently. "Of course, see to your people." With that excuse, Justin grabbed his briefcase and exited the room. He was already dialling numbers on his smartphone. On one hand, he was contacting his right-hand and operations manager, to do as he'd said he'd be doing. The other sequence he'd input however, executed something else entirely.

A few minutes later, Princeps burst out from a nearby alleyway on a customized motorcycle in his iconic armor and gear, speeding towards the center of the catastrophe.
Last edited August 26, 2015 9:38 am
Aug 26, 2015 9:48 am
Mikhail Martinez was several blocks away when he saw the flicker of light, felt the pressure wave of the explosion, and instinctively shifted into his half-energy form.

He hurled himself toward the still-crumbling building, zipping around trying to save those he could during the terrible first instants of crumpling metal and shattering stone. When his count of the people he is unable to save reaches triple digits, he pours on the speed, attempting to guide tumbling masonry into positions of temporary shelter for bystanders.

When the first armoured figure emerges gleaming from the rubble, Redline blurs quickly around the building trying to get an accurate assessment of their numbers, their weapons, their arrangements, and how best to grind them into powder.
Aug 27, 2015 4:59 am
"Damn it, 'Swin, what in the name of Buddha do you put in this stuff? It's fucking amazing!" Tim gushed to the man behind the bar. Swin was one of those irritatingly taciturn people - the kind of man who never used two words when one would do, and who rationed syllables like they were made of solid gold. Tim's eyes, however, didn't look up from the miracle nectar that was 'Swin's famous Thai Iced Tea.

"Secret" was all that 'Swin managed to get out before the rumble hit. As the two men looked up, their eyes met briefly, before Tim pulled out his phone in a flash. "It's the… Millennium Life building? Something's gone wrong. Fuck." As his pulse quickened, Tim looked up to 'Swin again – Tim's enormous eyes meeting 'Swin's. He could feel the breathing get slightly shallower. 'Swin patted his shoulder. "Go." Tim nodded, and drained the rest of his tea in a single gulp. As he raced out the door, Tim fell into a long, loping run. Chinatown was right by the Financial district, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes to get to Millennium Life square. As he ran, the throbbing in his heart reached his gut. The smell – burning asphalt, chalk, what he prayed wasn't flesh – got stronger. "I hope I'm not too late," he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

As he rounded the corner into the square, the sheer devastation and human misery hit him with a force not much gentler than a gut-punch. What had been a modestly-sized skyscraper was now a tangle of iron rebar, chunks of concrete, and shards of glass the size of saplings. The living were wandering around covered in dust - people dust, Tim realized, with a sickening revulsion - and there were wounded, all around. As Tim reflexively snapped a few photos, he muttered to himself, "Goddamn; this job makes me a death voyeur. I wish there were a 12-step program for fucking Journalism."

But then a new noise hit him – a mechanical one, repeated a thousand times over. The source of the explosion was becoming clearer; this wasn't a gas leak, or a terrorist attack, but a planned destruction, by an army of glistening, black, beetle-like soldiers was emerging from underground. Tim froze - this was not good. Tim the journalist would be of no help here; only Shancai.

Grimacing, trying to block out the smell of death, the cries of the wounded, and the thick, chalky dust that even now assailed his nose and throat, he did his best to chant: 唵嘛呢叭咪吽. For a moment, precisely nothing happened, apart from the clicking of the army's strange rifles, and Tim even feared that his patron had not heard his call. But Guanyin hears the name of all who call on her, and so in an instant, the gangly, flat-faced journalist with a deeply unfortunate mullet had been replaced by the bodhisattva in training.

As Princeps' motorcycle burst from the alleyway, and Redline streaks by at supersonic speeds, Shancai nods his head, and, floating a few inches off the ground, races to tend to the nearest wounded.
Aug 27, 2015 8:17 am
Awesome opening posts, guys!

The armored aliens train their rifles at civilian targets, firing indiscriminately into the crowd! The rifles emit bolts of supercharged plasma and the screams of the fleeing survivors become even more desperate.

Redline takes a quick tally of their numbers, thirty in all, each one fully armored and kitted in the same way.

So, at this point the aliens seem largely ignorant of your presence, instead focusing on clearing the area for something. What do you guys want to do?

The more obvious player moves at this point would be:
> Take Down
> Serve and Protect (to defend civilians)
> Aid or Interfere to mess with the aliens

Trying to get up close through their live fire is definitely a Defy Danger move.

Go ahead and make your rolls and tell me of any choices you make, if you're enabled to do so.
Aug 27, 2015 8:52 am
Clint didn't care where these tin can aliens came from, all he wanted to know was how they liked it when someone shot back.

"Now hold still. . ." He said as he aimed at one in the back.

Rolls

Take Down - (2d6+2)

(15) + 2 = 8

Aug 27, 2015 9:20 am
His bullet smashed right through the tin man's visor, blowing out what passed for its brain out the back of its head. It dropped like a sack of potatoes, telling Clint that their armor wasn't all that special, at least through the visor (that bright, red, shoot-me-here sign), and that they could be killed.

Its nearest companions stopped shooting for a moment, perplexed at their mate's sudden demise. The glow of their plasma shooters caught Clint's attention and he wondered what would happen if some lead was added.

Glowing plasma exploded out of it where Clint's bullet hit. So intense that Clint felt the heat from where he was shooting from. When the roiling plasma faded, nine more bodies joined his first victim on the ground. Their armor twisted and melted by the intense heat.

This got their attention. Clint didn't even have time to say "G'day" before return fire forced him to hide behind cover.

[GM NOTE: Minor Condition: Pinned]
Aug 27, 2015 9:27 am
As Khamal got closer to the attackers he recognized the smouldering ruin of the once-proud Millenium Tower, a shattered pile of concrete and steel barely visible above the dust and smoke of its destruction. Flashes of bright energy cut through the smoke, searching out the remaining civilians in the area. As Khamal watched, several people were struck down by the random fire. In his head he saw flashes of another city burning, long ago, the screaming in a long-dead language by long-dead victims.

The warrior crouched behind a pile of rubble to examine the invaders. He picked out the invader farthest from the rest of the pack, which had taken up a firing stance on top of a wrecked car, from its vantage point firing upon the fleeing civilians.

From behind his makeshift mask Khamal gritted his teeth as he picked up a large slab of concrete and held it in front of him as a makeshift shield and battering ram. He then began to run, picking up speed as the Rune filled his veins with battle-lust. The armored enemy turned to find him tearing down the street and...
-----

Khamal will attempt to Defy Danger to get close enough to the nearest soldier, hoping both the slab and his healing powers will enable him to get close enough to to take it down and get a better idea of what he's up against.

Roll to Defy Danger + Protect (+2) Roll: 3, 6= 9 total +2= final result 11.

-----

The armored invader opened fire, gouging thick furrows into the concrete slab, the plasma superheating it. Khamal's hands burned, his flesh alternately blackening and blistering and reforming as his flesh repaired itself. Ten feet away from his target the intense heat finally caused the slab to crack and shatter, and Khamal hurled it aside and leaped into the air, roaring, above the invader, descending like a vengeful thunderbolt on a desert plain.
Aug 27, 2015 2:25 pm
Redline, furious at the barrage of plasma fire levelled at innocents and some brave heroes engaging the enemy, gathers up armfuls of debris and flings them into the firing arcs of the aliens, creating a cloud of stone and metal -- obscuring and intersecting their plasma bolts.
Last edited August 27, 2015 2:25 pm

Rolls

Aid Or Interfere - (2d6)

(53) = 8

Aug 27, 2015 2:33 pm


Okay -- forgot to add the +1 for a bond with one of the teammates (unless all their bonds count?), bringing me to 9.

I choose to "make an untenable position secure" for them, at the risk of drawing the ire of some of the aliens (or one very good shot). If I'd gotten higher, I could've chosen two and shared some +1 forward.



The plasma superheats the debris and causes even more explosions at close range, charring weapon muzzles and even helmet visors, and driving up the level of obscuring smoke around the invaders. Several charge forward, breaking cover hoping to engage Redline in close quarter combat.

GM NOTE: Given your success in a Serve and Protect Move, I'll lift the "Pinned" Minor Condition from Clint as the mob is now struggling with the decreased visibility.
Aug 28, 2015 1:41 am
Princeps arrived just as the action began. The scream of superheated plasma cutting through the air and the echoing cries of civilians reached his ears even before he could get a good view of what was happening on site. The dust from the attack still was heavy around the block of the Millenium Tower, which made getting a good look difficult, but he took in the scene as best as he could. As best as he could tell, some group of humanoids were geared out in cutting-edge technology, attacking without any specific targets, trying to inflict maximum casualties. Or had been, he amended, as he saw various people respond.

Of those taking action, there appeared to be two...three, he corrected, as he saw a blur of movement. The blitz of speed was known to him by name, Redline. But the other two combatants who were opposing the attacking group were unfamiliar to him. He noted their positions and angles of attack. If they're tying up these...aliens...over here, let's see what an attack from behind will do. He revved up his bike and swung around to attack the mass of aliens from the rear or flank, aiming to send his bike roaring into their midst and trusting that it's auto-gyros would balance it out and bring it to a survivable halt. That would be a decoy while he flung himself from the bike and began cutting his way through the body of enemies, who were hopefully distracted.

Rolls

Take Down + Maneuver - (2d6+2)

(45) + 2 = 11

Aug 28, 2015 1:57 am
Fortune favors the bold indeed, Princeps reflected, as his bike tore its way through the body of aliens. The unexpected vector of attack, added to the immediate response from various people, was enough to force the unit of attackers to go to ground and scatter in smaller groups. That only made it easier for Princeps to strike.

Flowing smoothly from his leap from his bike, the warrior struck down one opponent immediately, using his momentum to catch his first target off guard. From there, his sword came out and he methodically began carving his way through these terrorists. When he could, he struck blows which he observed as sufficient to take them out of the fight, disabling them by strikes to the head, cutting through limbs, pinning them with debris, and shattering their armor. Moments into the fight, he'd estimated he'd taken down perhaps nine or ten of them, groaning and unconscious behind him.

[GM NOTE: Condition: Scattered, Mob size -1 down to 10 goons left]
Aug 28, 2015 3:07 am
One of the aliens, seeing his fellow soldiers fall to the expert swordsmanship of Princeps, reaches for an oddly shaped object at his belt and throws it at the hero. The device lets out a mechanical whine before detonating with surprising force, throwing Princeps off his feet and into the wreckage of a car, just meters away from where Khamal readied his deadly strike at another soldier.

Only Princeps' mastery of telekinesis shielded him from the worst of the concussive blast, and saved him from breaking a few ribs from the impact on the car.

[GM NOTE: Take the Minor Condition: Dazed]
Aug 28, 2015 3:19 am
Shancai blinked as the red blur flew past him. Nearly simultaneously, a flak-jacketed warrior burst down upon one of the beetle-men, and the power-armored man on the motorcycle drew out a sword (?!?) and began slashing his way through the beetle-men.

"OK," Shancai thought, "I havent' the foggiest idea of who these people are, but at least they're not injuring any civilians yet." The wounded and the dazed were still in great pain, which hurt - people never gave a thought to how raw infinite compassion could be on one's nerves. Drawing a quick breath, Shancai extended the loving-kindness of Guanyin to the survivors, attempting to stabilize the critically wounded.

Rolls

Serve & Protect + Protect - (2d6+1)

(42) + 1 = 7

Aug 28, 2015 3:40 am
Khamal rode through the explosion and his descending fist crumpled the metal helmet and the head inside it. As the invader fell, the Sassanid picked up the limp form by the leg, leaped, and used the corpse as a club to bludgeon the rest of his enemies. His warcries, muffled by his makeshift mask, alerted the rest of the invaders, who turned to the warrior carving his way through their midst.

Redline's debris had kicked up enough cover for Khamal to dodge most of the incoming fire, and he nodded thanks to the agile fighter. It was not, however, enough to ensure he did not take any damage in his heedless charge into the aliens' ranks.

Energy knifed through his body, burning holes clean through him. Even as the invaders fired he carried on, heedless of the agony of plasma gouging his body, throwing the dead soldier into another, caving in its chest carapace. He grabbed another by its arm, tore it off, and smashed it into the ground. As the enemy soldiers sustained their fire he took more hits, peppered by a barrage of plasma.

From the corner of his eye Khamal took note of the swordplay of the strangely-armored warrior who had joined the fight, blade flashing. His style was vaguely familiar, one he had not seen for many centuries.

Khamal then staggered forward, slowed by the volume of concentrated fire, scattering the aliens, ripping off limbs with his hands, caving in helmets, breaking apart rifles brought up and pointed at him. The last one he could reach he grabbed, and crushed the hand holding the alien rifle even as it fired into his chest point blank. He growled in pain as the plasma tore through his body yet again, then bent back the arms of the alien until they snapped. The alien howled in agony as he let it crumple to the ground.

He would let this one live. If it would not give up its secrets, at the very least it could run home to its masters and inform them that this city was protected, and its protectors would kill. He then grimaced and went down to one knee, breathing heavily. His flesh was healing, showing bronze skin under the holes burned into his suit, but the Rune's restoration did nothing to reduce the pain of flesh and bone knitting back together rapidly.

------
[Take Down + Smash (1)]
Rolled 3,4 = 7 +1= Total result: 8

2 options: Reduce Mob, taken twice.
Will take the condition: Shot Full of Holes
Last edited August 28, 2015 3:48 am
Aug 28, 2015 4:27 am
The air softened, somewhat, as the choking, all-too-human dust and grime's foul stench was replaced with the smell of lotuses. The Universe said, "I love you," to the most critically wounded, and their wounds closed somewhat. In truth, Guanyin - expression, as she was, of the Universe's infinite love for itself, might have restored them to wholeness instantly, but damn it, he was an imperfect vessel and shaky. But he couldn't afford to get sidetracked now. The other… heroes? Yes, he'd call them heroes for the moment. They seemed to have the situation with the beetle-army well in hand, but the civilians were still in danger, and the innocent had to be his primary concern. Stooping down, he cradled a young girl in his arms. Her small dress was torn by shards of flying glass, and she still had an alarming amount of blood on her, but the cuts to her face had healed, and she was very clearly very frightened, but put up no resistance to the strange man holding her.

"Those who can walk, support those who cannot. We need to leave here; you are not safe. Come with me to safety; you can have refuge here." He closed his eyes, and did his best to radiate the peace and serenity of his Patron; willing to take on the irresistible serenity that marked Guanyin.

Rolls

Serve + Protect + Influence - (2d6+1)

(63) + 1 = 10

Aug 28, 2015 9:05 am
The supers made short work of the remaining tin can aliens. Superpowered folk never failed to impress him and he showed his appreciation by waving to them as he left his hiding spot.

"That's a proper good rootin, lads!"

The mass of wounded was best tended to by the supers. As there wasn't much good Clint could do there, he decided to see the remains of Ashot's shop. It had practically disintegrated. Ashot had come here from Afghanistan to escape the Taliban. Clint and him had hit it off well having some common ground to start from. If Ashot knew that it was an explosion that would get him after coming halfway around the world to get away from them, Clint had no doubt he would laugh his ass off.

Clint held his hat over his heart as a final goodbye to another friend, but then he heard a voice. Faint, but unmistakably the voice of someone swearing in Pashto and English while shouting for help.

"Ashot! Hang on, mate!"

Clint waved and shouted to the supers that joined the battle earlier.

"Oi! Me mate needs some help here!"
Aug 28, 2015 1:50 pm
The end of the action was almost as sudden as how it began. As Princeps began to shake off the daze from being blasted backwards from what appeared to be a sonic grenade, he'd felt the pulse of some power emanate from off to the side. The simultaneous neutralization of the remaining armored men by the shockingly brutal assault of one of those he'd identified as being on the 'side' of the city. Brutal, but he could not deny its vicious effectiveness. He kept an eye on the fellow, sensing something odd about him, but what caught his attention the most right now was the energy he'd sensed earlier.

Lotuses? Princeps wondered. Was it one of the great powers? He considered this, but the scale of the power and its nature didn't seem to be quite at that level. The man it seemed to be coming from was using it to care for the civilians, it seemed. It was vaguely familiar though and gave a rather serene feeling. He'd have to look into it later. For the moment... Princeps caught the fellow's eye and gave him a salute. He then took a look at the remaining attackers. Most were dead, dying, or unconscious.

He signalled for his bike to draw near, looking through the broken and fallen equipment on the ground. Most of it no doubt would be sequestered by the government and Millenium City. But he'd need a few pieces to do some of his own research.

Rolls

Examine+investigate (Searching for good pieces/gear to stash in the bike.) - (2d6+1)

(12) + 1 = 4

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