(Scraps gets 1 new XP.)

Scorch Scale checks on the officers... They're all okay, but they appreciate him checking on them. (Scorch Scale gets +1 forward... and...)

An ambulance shows up! Someone must have alerted them to the location of the man in shock over a police radio already, because they go right to him...

Mr. Whiskers jumps down and attacks Scraps for assaulting his dark mistress...

(09:24, Today: Mr. Whiskers rolled 3 using 2d6 ((1,2)).)

He gets Scraps off Spite's leg, but otherwise manages to do no damage.

Spite rises into the air. "An ambulance... Some people don't like the police, but everyone would hate me if I destroyed an ambulance... Or, I guess, really, the people in it..."

(Agility roll: 09:27, Today: Spite rolled 7 using 2d6+1 ((3,3)).)

Spite carefully swoops down and grabs up one of the two EMTs, lifting the man she grabbed 50 feet into the air by his collar... but grabbing him accurately slowed her down... (The next roll made that involves directly interfering with rescuing the EMT (or preparing to do so) gets an additional +1 forward (stacks).)

Scorch Scale took a megaphone from one of the windowless police vehicles.

"...this this thing on? OK." Scorch Scale said, as the megaphone whined into action cleared his throat.

Right now, Scorch Scale felt like he needed to channel the Silver Streak that is in everyone. "Spite, I have just one question for you, from one super being to another. If you didn't need people's hatred, their fear, or any negative thoughts to have your super powers, what would you do with them?"

Scorch Scale gave her a small moment to ponder what he said. "If you just wanted power, you wouldn't have cared for your pet just moments before. I know you want that from others.
You won't be liked by everyone, not even Goodwill can pull that off. That's just life. But that doesn't mean you should drown yourself in their hatred."

"So please, come down gently."

All right, let's roll with no penalty. Probably not with the other +1 for saving the guy, so here goes...

Talk things out
19:24, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 11 using 2d6 ((6,5)).

Spite looks like Scorch Scale slapped her-- if she was a normal woman, and not ultra-durable like Goodwill.

The mental and emotional toll just appears to have worn her down. Today has been a rollercoaster for her, and she's already used up her second wind. She may be vaguely (literally? virtually? practically? intermittently?) bulletproof, but the adrenaline rush, and crash, and rush, and crash... has started really taking a lot out of her.

She slowly sinks downward at a speed of less than a foot per second, not dropping the man she's holding (he tries not to wriggle), staring in Scorch Scale's direction, but not really seeing him, giving that whole direction a thousand-yard stare, her mind engaged in its own unknowable clockwork.

(Spite takes 1 new stress.)

Oh.   That poor human looked so down.
It broke Scraps heart to see a human looking so sad.

As ‘man’s best friend’, the puppy couldn’t bear it.
His little doggy heart couldn’t allow the poor human to go uncomforted.

With a joyful, playful, bellicose “Bark”, and a happy wag of his tail,
Scraps leapt up into Spites arms, so he could be close enough to lick some love and happiness into her face.
Yes, that would fix the situation.    That would fix the human.


- rolled 5 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 2,1.  Hold her off ...

(Scraps gains 1 new xp.)

Spite let go of the EMT worker, who ran off to help his colleague with their patient...

She absent-mindedly tossed Scraps over her shoulder and then continued to just stand, lost in thought. Someone should probably catch him, if possible.

Mr. Whiskers, interested in this new opportunity, dashed toward where Scraps was going to land, intent on doing his enemy a harm if possible...

"Hey!" Gil dashed forward to catch Scraps. "He's just trying to be friendly!"

It wasn't going to be easy, but he'd made harder catches than this...!

0 Agile - How nimble you are and able to dodge and rescue.
--Romantic Idiot!
Goodwill rolled 7 using 2d6 ((2,5)).
--You leave them somewhere precarious (if out of immediate danger)
--You take significant time to rescue them

Gil made the catch, but bobbled the poor, beleaguered puppy, adding several uncomfortable seconds to the process. By the time he set Scraps down, he was more concerned with getting back to where he was to notice where they were. There were fires and broken glass all over the quad, and Gil might have set Scraps down in the middle of any of it for all the attention he was paying his immediate surroundings. [GM's choice for hazards] Not to mention the angry cat that Gil had basically ignored since the start of this debacle, still on its way to making more trouble.

(13:41, Today: Mr. Whiskers rolled 4 using 2d6 ((1,3)).)

Mr. Whiskers rushed straight at the dog, claws engaged, but the pup, momentarily dizzy, fell over sideways at the exact wrong second, and then Mr. Whiskers shot past him and was too busy dodging pointy/sharp debris and patches of grass that were on fire to circle back around for an immediate second try at the dog...

Spite sighed. "I have been making people hate me for some time now," she said casually, with a tired, nobody's-exactly-home non-tone to her voice, "and now I would like to go somewhere else for a while. Come, Mr. Whiskers. We shall destroy these people some other day."

She flew quickly and scooped up her cat.

"...I should give you all some last gesture to remember me by," she zombied...

(13:47, Today: Spite rolled 7 using 2d6 ((5,2)).)

"...but I can't really think of anything very good..." She flew up to the top of the library, and picked up (one-handed) the four-foot bronze statue of Athena that'd been up there for decades. "This is the best I can think of."

She threw it at Scorch Scale.

Then she began flying off...

(Scorch Scale, feel free to attempt to save yourself however you'd like. Goodwill is too busy dealing with saving Scraps to save you just yet.

Scraps, I don't know what you can do to try to help and/or save Scorch Scale, but you're free to try.

Goodwill, you're too busy YET to do anything. After the other PCs do whatever they're gonna do, I may let you attempt to stop Spite from leaving if you choose.)

Scraps thought ‘falling over’ was fun.
So fun, indeed, that he stood up with the intent of doing it again.

But the he caught a whiff from the grass, and realised with excitement that somebody had left a wee-mail here, and turned his olfactory attentions to that instead.

Oh yes, somebody had marked this spot, alright.
Maybe a few days ago?!?
Sniff.   Sniff
Huh!  She, yes she, was older.  Much older than Scraps.
And ... hmmm, not well.   Something wrong with her insides.
Sniff.  Sniff

Scraps looked around to see if he could spot her.
He felt the need to give her a lick.
But right now, there wasn’t any other dogs around.
Just glass, and fires, and screaming people.

Oh yeah.  Right.   The Nasty, Sad girl ...
And that rascally, rapscalion cat.

Scraps remembered that he was helping Gil ...

Oh wait, the girl was leaving, with the cat.
Oh good.

Better get back to ...
What was he doing?

Oh yes, falling down!
This message was last edited by the player at 23:03, Fri 15 Mar 2019.

OK, can I try to use concussive force to try and either stop the statues momentum or try to blast myself out of the path of that falling statue?
If not, let's hope gym class payed off for our reptilian hero then.

...You're a Blaster. You wanna destroy something. I say go ahead with a Forceful roll if you want. Anything else seems like me splitting hairs too much.




You are of course free to try that, too, and I certainly must say it would seem like it would break fewer laws of physics. Then again...

https://i.pinimg.com/originals...99270f97ff8d3582.jpg

"Oh no you don't!" Scorch Scale protested. Something inside Scorch Scale would not permit himself to be defeated in a contest of raw strength by a human youth. Especially one not trained by any group Drocan would consider worthy opponents.

With no love for Athena, Scorch Scale was quick to respond with a full blast of his Draconic Breath! Flame and force flew forth from his mouth, towards the bronze effigy to a long dead god.

Forceful
21:39, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 11 using 2d6+2 ((6,3)).

When the statue was seen to, Scorch Scale roared in triumph "Give a real challenge next time, maiden of malice!"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:50, Fri 15 Mar 2019.

The blast of fiery breath utterly destroyed the statue, vaporizing much of it. Several pounds of molten bronze slag fell to the ground about 8 feet in front of Scorch Scale... fortunately not on anyone nor anything important.

Laura was getting away. She'd hurt people, and was now flying away like nothing untoward had happened. Gil needed to stop her... didn't he?

Or was letting her go the fastest way to protect the public, since fighting her was just creating more and more danger?

He couldn't let this be the last word, though. Even if she was going to escape, he had to try to talk her down off the emotional ledge she'd been perched upon for god-only-knew how long.

1 Confident - How confident you are and able to keep going and lead.
--Remain undaunted

Goodwill rolled 10 using 2d6+1 ((6,3)).


His willpower restored, Gil rose effortlessly into the air and flew after 'Spite'. He kept a wide berth, so as not to appear immediately threatening, and shouted to her:

"I still say we should talk!"

It lacked the oomph of a good battle cry, but this had hardly been a good battle to begin with.

(Run Away
When you flee the scene roll +agile.  On a 10+ you get somewhere safe.  On a 7-9 pick 2.
--You don’t leave anything important behind
--You don’t run into something worse
--You don’t get made a laughing-stock

11:38, Today: Spite rolled 7 using 2d6+1 ((3,3)).)

"No! I don't-- I don't... just leave me alone...! I've got to get out of here...! I can't stand it here another second...!"

Clutching Mr. Whiskers tightly, Spite really pours on the speed. She breaks a tv aerial antenna or two, skimming fast over nearby rooftops, but soon she's out of sight.

"Wow..." says a policeman near Scorch Scale, "she's like a little kid, like my niece when she hasn't had a nap..."

"Lord, that's what did all this damage? Just some hysterical gal with powers? I don't know whether to laugh or shiver..."

And suddenly things seemed to have cleared up, and turned out alright.
With a rambunctious ‘Bark’ and a wag of his tail, Scraps came bounding over to where Scorch Scale stood near the gathered police officers.
Leaping into the Scaley One’s arms, he gave the unlikely lizard lord a lick, and playfully barked to the nearby cops ... inviting them to come pat him.

- rolled 11 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 5,4.  Play to the crowd.
-- They don’t think you are either whiny or showing off
-- They think better of you as a group
-- They provide assistance
-- You are buoyed by their cheers and take +1 Ongoing until they are seriously threatened or the scene end

I figure, as my last post wasn’t really a post that contributed, I’d throw in a productive one now ... if nobody minds. 

The policemen realize they can holster their guns, since they're convinced that Spite isn't coming back any time soon. "Okay, let's get this ambulance going! Check that building, and that one, see if there's anyone else hurt!"

Another officer comes up to Scorch Scale. "Uh, you hero guys... need anything...?"

When the officers came to see if Scorch Scale needed a hand, and get a pet with Scraps (who was like an angel to save the teen hero from his own image), the Drake answered "No thanks, just make sure the people get their aid. Oh, and laugh, to hide the fear." Reminding them that the civilians were there, students who could have had it worse.

He was looking to where the villainess left as he said this. He had helped here, but his guts and his instincts were telling him he should further prove he was better than her. His only way to remove that instinct was remember that he had took her down a peg, if she didn't have innocents to hide behind, he would have had her...

Plus, it reminded him that there would be others who need help, and others to stop.

"Wha? What're you talkin' about...?"

Another officer nudges his colleague. "He's sayin', look, the survivors are startin' to come out of hidin'," --and he points to a couple of spots where this is, indeed, happening... "--So don't act paralyzed by what just happened. Show 'em it's all okay now."

"Oh. ...Yeah, okay. That's smart. Good thinkin'."

Scorch Scale nodded, glad to hear someone got the idea.

"Thanks Scraps." He said as he put down the dog.
Looking around, it seemed like everything was sorted. As sorted as it could be until Spite happened again.

Goodwill reversed course with a grumble of disappointment and returned to the fight scene. There were more news cameras arriving every minute now, so he arc'd upwards and came down fast and hard in the three-point 'hero' landing. The newspeople loved that, especially with Goodwill so battle-ravaged as he was. His shirt was torn and burned almost completely off, his pants were singed, and he was barefoot. He looked like Doc Savage, out of those old pulp books.

"Scraps!" he called. Then he saw that Scorch had him. "Ah. Good man."

He turned to a police officer that seemed to be at least nominally in charge.

"Where can I help, sir?"

Scraps gave a bellicose ‘Bark’ and ran over to join Gil, cavorting about him with excitement that his little body couldn’t contain without bounding in several directions at once.

"Not much, now, I think," muses an officer, "maybe get that lion statue out of the way, move that rubble and debris-- oh, actually, start with that Volkswagen bug in the front of the library, if you don't mind...?"

Scraps helped Goodwill out by racing over to aforementioned Volkswagen, and ‘marked’ it for him.

There was enthusiasm, and then there was puppy-level let-me-pee-on-that enthusiasm. Fortunately the car was a large enough object that there were plenty of places to grab it that didn't have puppy juice dribbling off them.

"Thanks, boy."

Goodwill hefted the car and walked it over to an empty spot by the curb.

The picture of him carrying the car overhead was the cover of two local newspapers the following morning.

Once the heroes ‘Give {Scraps} a minute to catch {his} breath’, all his ‘Stress’ from the recent violence and excitement evaporated ... and looking at him, one wouldn’t guess that this scrappy little scrapper had just scrapped through a scrap.


He didn’t, in fact, prove much use with the ensuing clean-up, though.
But he looked cute, running around ‘trying to help’ (read as: getting in everyone’s way, and under everyone’s proverbials).