How might I be called miss?

How might anyone be called miss.  People called her miss all the town.  Excuse me, miss!  Miss, you dropped something!  Pardon me, miss.

It wasn't exactly hard to call her miss.  You just put your lips together and ... no, that was how you whistled.

Oh wait, he was asking what her name was.

She reluctantly stopped petting Super Scraps to answer him.

"They call me ... Tempest."  And sometimes Miss.   As established.

I presume there is no fire alarm to smash the glass of? Otherwise might as well attack.

Tempest? He wondered if that was a storm thing, or a Shakespeare thing. Shakespeare had been referring to a storm both literally and figuratively... so Gil supposed there might be more than just the obvious reason why a girl might call herself that. But they didn't have time to discuss her powers (assuming she actually had any). Scorch Scale had returned to his skulking about, and the rest of the museum wasn't going to patrol itself.

"Well, I'm going out on a limb letting you in like this, Tempest," Gil explained. The museum officials probably would prefer to choose who was allowed in or not, and not leave these decisions to their random volunteer super-heroes. "So you should probably just stick with me.

"Scraps, which way did Scorch go?"

(Sure, I'll let there be one... go ahead, and smash it, if you'd rather do that than attack this round...)

With the man's back to Scorch Scale, he would have this man in no time at all. Let's see how quickly Goodwill can get to the scene.

But Scorch Scale couldn't help but let his pride those away the advantage. In a cross armed pose, Scorch Scale was ready to intimidate. "You've wondered into the dragon's den." Scorch Scale announced as his tail activated the fire alarm in a swift flick.

"I'll be taking those now."

Scraps gave a bellicose 'Bark' and began sniffing around, before heading off following the scent of scales.

He didn't get far before far, however, a raised, commanding voice could be heard echo'ing down the hallowed, hollow hallways ... and then suddenly the fire alarms throughout the place went off.

And you know what they say, 'where there's fire, theres scorch' ... or something like that.

Scraps took off at a run towards that area ahead ...
               - rolled 14 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 5,6.  Agility to 'Run Away To'.

Goodwill sighed. He'd been hoping that the evening would be uneventful, with no robbery at all. But such was not to be.

"Follow us," he said to Tempest, lacking anything more insightful to say. He hoped she could keep up. He had no idea if she had the power to fly, or even run in heels. Regardless, he flew after Scraps. Scraps seemed to be focused on a direction that Gil had been sorta sure was the source of the noise, so the puppy probably had it right.

He didn't fly at top speed, for fear of banking off of a display and destroying something priceless. But unless the tumult was further away then he thought, he was probably only a few seconds away.

"Fire alarm!"  She shouted, as she watched the Hero run toward danger, followed by Goodwill.

This was trouble.  She thought momentarily about summoning a rainstorm in case the fire spread through the building, but the thought of all that water destroying the artifacts and art ... no, she'd be better off trying to stop whatever it was that was causing the fire.

She fell behind though, because she needed to power up.  She wouldn't be much help without her powers activated.  Besides, running in heels was hard!

The man turns around, and seems pleasantly surprised. "Oh, my." He sniffs the air. "So you've got Drocan! I thought about collecting him... Oh, I am impressed. The best I could find was Aegrim, the black dragon of Wyre..."

The man breathes black fire at Scorch Scale...

(Scorch Scale has one instant to do something-- options are:
--Roll +Agile to try to dodge behind a marble pillar (with a -1 penalty)
or
--Roll +Forceful to try to block the black fire with some of your own (with a -1 penalty, because you've got a late start)
or
--Something else I haven't thought of

Scraps is not here yet, but he will be any minute, so the turn order is currently:
--Scorch Scale
--Then Scraps
--Then Goodwill
--Then Tempest)

In response to the flames of Aegrim, Scorch Scale released his own great plume of flames. Like a mightly red comet, it streaked through the museum, the relics casting shadows.

Forceful
17:15, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 12 using 2d6+1 ((5,6)).

Scorch Scale, with his arms still crossed,  completely negated the flames that the stranger threw at him. Did he think that would hurt him?

How dare he insult Dragonkind.
Insinuating that dragons were mere two bit charms to don. Given by your local witch from her collection of oddities.
He would pay for this.

"Don't insult Aegrim with a display like that. He deserves better than you. Even that loser Blue Dragon could beat you. Try, again."

"Try again? Hm, a bold offer, but you seemed to deal with it just fine last time, so why should I try the same thing twice? I think instead I'll use this new toy I came here to collect: The Amulet of Arawn." He holds up a carved amulet, painted a dull, faded black, depicting a skull with a sword through the top of it. He then points it-- instead of at Scorch Scale-- off to Scorch Scale's left. "Yes, those will do nicely..."

There's a lot of clanking noises. Four suits of armor, swords gripped in their gauntlets, come marching into the room. "The spirits I've summoned to inhabit these arms and armors from the exhibit in the next room should make them somewhat fireproof... Let's see if they can destroy you! I'm honestly not sure, but I look forward to finding out! Let none say that museums can't be educational!"

The armor marches to attack Scorch Scale just as, behind him, Scraps is arriving... (And so, the bad luck that Scorch Scale had in not arriving just a little sooner bears fruit...)

As Scraps came barreling into the room, he managed to achieve what all overly excited puppy’s do ... he got right under the feet of those also trying to enter the roof.
On this occasion, it happened to be the animate tin soldiers.

Barking and running around among the many clanking legs, he slowed the attacking knights to near halt until for several moments ... giving our team of heroes an extra few moments to get themselves organised in response to their presence.

- rolled 8 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 2,3.  Hold them off.
--They can’t attack anyone they weren’t already attacking

Gil wasn't flying anywhere near his top speed, but he was still moving plenty fast. So when the clanking, clattering assortment of animate armor entered the room from one direction, Gil was bursting into the room from the adjacent hallway. He managed to dodge the figures with barely a second to spare, only realizing after he shot past them that they weren't people at all. In fact, bashing right through them would probably have been a good idea.

It would have been a much better idea than looking back over his shoulder in wonderment. Rather, it would have been a much better idea than doing that while still flying at a decent clip.

At the last instant, he angled himself to use his momentum and crash into the 'hippie' who seemed to be the bad guy.

Forceful - It’s Clobberin’ Time
Goodwill rolled 6 using 2d6+2 ((1,3)).

...and ever-so-slightly missed.

Tempest had lingered behind, due to a combination of slowly unspooling the Stormforce, keeping it on lockdown so it didn't implode the museum or suck the air out of everyone's lungs before striking them with chain after chain of lightning; and, the difficulty of running in heels.

Between those two complications, she was late to the party.

Scorch Scale knew that it would take a lot of heat to mess with the metal of the suits. Anything concussive towards them would hit Scraps.

That left their stranger as being his target. It was only right for Scorch Scale to lay down the law to this troublemaker.

It's Clobbering Time
22:01, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 8 using 2d6+2 ((4,2)).

--You hit hard (+1 Stun)

Scorch Scale let out another burst of flame, he had to act fast to stop his enemy defending himself. He couldn't be allowed to summon more armies of goons.

"Oh, a mighty blow!" The guy is definitely singed. In fact his guard's uniform is burned away, and reveals a sort of light green business suit underneath (wait, how could he have been wearing a business suit under his guard's uniform?), and IT's smoldering quite a bit, especially in back, because the guy turned his back to the blast to protect the small items he was holding.

Now, he puts them in his pockets.

"Leave us no longer hold back, then, host of Drocan," he says... then he hesitates. "But I see the armor will do that for me, for now..."

So he turns to Goodwill. "Meantimes, perhaps I should deal with you, flying hero," he says. "Yours might have been a puissant attack, had it landed."

He blasts Goodwill with a breath of black fire...

(Goodwill takes 1 new xp for missing the man

16:24, Today: A Man rolled 10 using 2d6+3 ((3,4)).

--The man hits hard (+1 Stun)
--The man avoids most of Goodwill's next attack against him (-1 Stun))

Meanwhile, Scraps makes sure the suits of armor don't attack anyone they weren't attacking (Scorch Scale).

And he is successful.

So they attack Scorch Scale.

(GM rolls dice)

Two of them miss, one gets in a small blow, and one nails Scorch Scale.

(Scorch Scale takes 2 stress, and -1 forward.)

Nothing bad happens to Scraps! He's just adorable!

Scraps was having a wonderful time: playing chasies with all these funny people.
But there was one guy here who wasn’t paying Scraps enough attention.

And that guy had just put something fun into his pocket.
One thing every puppy knows: if you take their fun things, they’ll chase you.


In a sudden burst of speed and endless energy, he bounded over to the man, and latched onto the guy’s pocket where his fun things went.
- rolled 12 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 4,5.  Hold ‘me off.
--You take away useful items from them
--Give them a choice between backing off or be stunned
Their retaliation will always be limited (-1 Stun) but you don’t stun them.
Biting it, he tore the pocket and it’s contents free.  With a mouthful material and the ‘small items’, he took off ... leaving the man teetering and unbalanced.   If he didn’t take the time to step backwards and regain his balance, he’d surely topple backwards; likely hitting his head or something.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:01, Sat 06 Apr 2019.

Gil had only just stopped himself short of hitting the wall by merest inches. It pissed him off, honestly. 'Spite' had run him ragged due in large part to Gil's unwillingness to punch a girl. He was tired of being made a fool of... and this was no girl. This guy, he could punch.

Growling through his clenched teeth, he turned and did just that.

Forceful - It's Clobbering Time!
Goodwill rolled 10 using 2d6+2 ((2,6)).
--You hit hard (+1 Stun)
--You avoid most of their retaliation (-1 Stun)

Damn, it felt good to finally cut loose and hit someone who deserved it.

(Scraps, Hold 'Em Off says: On a 10+ pick 2

...I'm a little unclear on which two you're picking. Is it the first two?)

The third element is not a choice, it is an intrinsic element of the ‘Hold ‘me Off Move:

(Ah ha! I could see that that third item was different from the other two, but it wasn't clicking for me, thank you for the clarification)

The problem was that many interesting things fell from the man's pocket! Scraps couldn't grab them all!

He could maybe get 2, maximum!

There was:
--A wooden necklace with a skull and a sword, painted black
--A glass ball (but it didn't break when it hit the floor, just bounced a few times and then started rolling
--A little knife (yikes! That was sharp! If he got that, he'd have to be extra careful!)
--A little bottle of sand
--A stick

What would Scraps take, and what would he leave?
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 15:49, Sat 06 Apr 2019.

The windows of the Museum shook as a clap of thunder and flash of lightning signified Tempest's manifestation.  She hovered off the ground, a steady flow of wind buoying her up into the air, as the Stormforce crackled where her eyes were just moments before.  She was no "Mystery Man" or "Science Hero", no.  Metahumanity had progressed beyond the limits of the heroes of the past, the Brown Recluse, Captain Liberty, or even the Uncanny Agent X.

This was the turning of a New Age of Heroes, and Tempest was but one of its Heralds.

Libby was hesitant to unleash the power of the Stormforce within the Museum, but the time for doubts and hesitations had passed.

Tempest had arrived.

It wasn’t a conscious choice for Scraps, as the pocket tote off and objects began scattering about the place ... but his teeth latched on to the two wooden items.
And with them, he ran ... hoping to be chanced*.

"Gah! Blast!" said the man, and he immediately crouched down and grabbed the remaining items-- the glass ball, the knife, and the little bottle of sand-- and stuffed them in a different pocket. He had to chase the little ball a few steps, though...

Two of the armors rush after Scraps... Two are still attacking Scorch Scale.

(This isn't the man's turn, it's just a reaction post. It's Scorch Scale's turn now.)

Scorch Scale felt like he needed a plan, but he was too pressured with the assault by the suits to do so.

He knew he was at a disadvantage, but he let out a plume of flames, hoping to hit enough of them with concussive force to disrupt the magic or something.

It's Clobbering Time
17:26, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 7 using 2d6+1 ((5,1)).

-You hit hard (+1 harm)