A week after the attempted bank robbery, the following large ad runs in all the daily New York papers:

ATTENTION:

THE NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT ASKS FOR THE HELP OF THE FOLLOWING:

--THE HERO KNOWN AS SILVER STREAK

--THE HERO KNOWN AS SCORCH SCALE

--THE HERO KNOWN AS GOODWILL (AND COMPANY, IF DESIRED)

THE N.Y.P.D. ASKS THAT ONE, SOME, OR ALL OF THESE INDIVIDUALS SHOW UP AT THE 28TH PRECINCT
THIS SATURDAY AT 2 P.M.

THERE IS AN URGENT MATTER WITH WHICH WE WOULD APPRECIATE YOUR ASSISTANCE

It's signed by the Police Commissioner and the Mayor.

But if it's urgent, why wait until Saturday? One supposes one can ask that when one shows up...

It did seem like an odd way to communicate to Saul, but then he realized he hadn't exactly set up a system yet faster then snail mail and a particular bin he checked before he did a run as Scorch Scale. Maybe he should set something alternative up...
But this was besides the real concern, that the mayor and commissioner both wanted with them. They assumed at least some of the heroes had lives outside of hero work. So possible identities could be suspected...

No, he had to go, if nothing else, but because if they were called for, the task at hand would be dangerous indeed.
Plus who was Goodwill and their company they kept?

All of these things, Saul would have to find out when he got there, hiding his bag underneath a nearby large garbage bin. He put on the draconic mask and a set of plain clothing (in case his power ever ceased somehow, a concern he learned newly from observing Echo) before he transforms. "There's only one way to find out what caused such an unconventional summons." He muttered to himself as he left the alleyway towards the meet up point.

"Wouldya look at this, Scraps?" Gil said, folding the Times backwards to put the page of interest on top. "The police — the police and the mayor — want to meet us and some other hero-types."

Their loft was a converted warehouse space, and currently devoid of almost all furniture. Gil's voice echoed in a way that sharply reminded him of how much he missed his home in Nebraska. This kind of living space was apparently supposed to be the next big thing in the 'SoHo' neighborhood. But for the moment it just felt barren and lonely. The loft was easily as big as the house he'd grown up in, but with only him instead of three generations of the Woods family. Well, him and Scraps, of course. Scraps seemed to love the huge, cavernous space that had been donated to them as living space when he announced his move to New York City. The landlord kept calling it Gil's 'Headquarters' or 'Base of Operations.' That was just too wild for Gil to process yet.

"What do you think, boy? We gotta go, right?"

Scraps had been chasing dust fairies, dancing around in the sunlight that spilled through the huge windows.
The dust fairies were awesome; they floated about in the spacious, open air, dancing about the light before flying off into the darkness.
Scraps barked playfully at them, and tried catching them by leaping about like a rabbit.

When Gil spoke, Scraps turned to give him all his attention, in a way only a dog can really do.
Then, he bounded forward ... his tail thwapping the dust fairies in his wake as he joined Gil.

He loved Gil.  He loved it when Gil talked to him.
He was so excited, in fact, that he barked his joy, and tried to leap up into Gil’s lap.

Jim puts the paper down and scratches his chin. 2pm was coimg up soon, and this was probably worth checking out. In moments he was changed and out the door. He left a little early, circling the station just to be safe - call it old habit. The Silver Streak may get along well with the boys in blue, but Jim knew firsthand that wasn't always the case.

The Silver Streak notes nothing suspicious...

...Oh, but he does note Scorch Scale approaching...

The Silver Streak skids to a halt in front of the large man-dragon. "Wasn't sure you'd show up," he approaches with a light salute, two fingers agsinst his gleaming helmet "Good to see you out and about - I know you haven't always enjoyed being in the public eye. I haven't seen anyone else just yet, do you know anything about this Goodwill fellow?"

Scorch Scale couldn't help but chuckle a little at the enthusiasm of Silver Streak with that greeting. He used that to make light of the conversation, ignoring the fact it was the assumptions this form came with. "It's nice to see you too. It reminded me that we need a better system then that trash can idea of mine."

There was another chuckle before the fire-breather cleared his throat, then carried on in a more serious tone.
"Funny thing that , I was just going to check with you. I heard a little, but you know how it is, no two stories remain consistent enough to conclude on."

There was a slight shrug from his frame before he continued. "You never know, Goodwill or "company", whomever they keep, might just be our "Magus" so to speak." That company could just be one, or it could be a whole gaggle of other people Scorch Scale hadn't got a hold of just yet.

"Whoop! There you go." Gil helped Scraps arrange himself in Gil's lap. Scraps was quickly outgrowing his 'puppy' days, and would probably be a bit too big to be a lap dog soon. His weight was negligible — Gil hardly felt that, of course — but his size would make it a little awkward. But until that day came, who could deny that happy pup anything?

Gil had been reading the paper at the breakfast table, just like he'd watch his daddy do every morning until the day he'd died. He'd read that newspapers were becoming less popular with his generation, but Gil just couldn't fathom that. He'd learned that it was right and proper for a civilized man to sit and read the morning paper, and if he hadn't, well... then he wouldn't have seen this ad, now would he? But it was nearly impossible to read a newspaper while holding a dog in your lap, so he set it aside.

Behind the paper was the end of Gil's breakfast. Grandma-Mom (as opposed to Mom-Mom; three generations in one house made names a little interesting at times) had made sure that Gil knew how to cook himself a few basic meals before he left for New York. She was worried that he'd starve in the big city. Gil still tended to burn the bacon a little if his attention wandered, but he hadn't set anything on fire yet. Today's breakfast only had a faint whiff of char to it, but had tasted fine. He was getting better at it.

He offered the last slice of bacon to Scraps. "Scraps for Scraps" Grandma-Mom would frequently say, like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. She had a heart as big as all outdoors, but her sense of humor was, well... old people told old people jokes.

"I think we'll wear the capes Mom-Mom sewed us," he said. His mother had sewed matching capes for Gil and Scraps. Gil's was a matador-styled half-cape, designed to be worn on one shoulder, and easily taken off and tossed aside when the real fighting began. It was a blue shell with a white satin lining, and definitely not to Gil's tastes. But his mother insisted that he needed to wear something more than just his 'fighting suit' if he ever wound up somewhere fancy in costume. Meeting the Mayor sounded like the sort of occasion when she'd insist he needed to wear it, so wear it he would. "If there's pictures taken, Mom-Mom would be crushed if we weren't wearing the capes."

Scraps had a cape in a matching blue and white. It was probably doomed, but what the hey?

"Let's go get dressed. Can't keep important people waiting now, can we?"

Scraps wolfed down the bacon, then tried to lick the grease from Gil’s fingers ... then turned his eyes upon the plate itself.

But then Gil was standing up, so Scraps had to jump on down.
He wagged his tail enthusiastically, and trotted alongside Gil.

When Gil pulled out the costume and capes, Scraps could barely stop himself from going mental with excitement, ‘cos that meant they were going OUT!    Into the wonderful world where other dogs had left wee-mails for Scraps to read sniff.  And there’s be dead rats to sniff, too.  And if he was really lucky, someone might have vomited in an alley after a night of drunken excess.
OH THE JOY.

"It is all well and good to catch up, but I think we both have a meeting to get to. It's the mayor and commissioner we are talking about." Scorch Scale  gestured towards their destination and taking the first step, sure that Silver Streak will catch up to him as he always does.

To Saul, it felt weird to have people depending on him more then just household chores or completing homework on time. But as Scorch Scale, he feels like he is finally getting the recognition he deserves.

All the policemen look up when Scorch Scale and Silver Streak enter. "Ah, good, they're here," said one. "...But... just the two of you? No sign of this new Goodwill fellow yet...? I suppose there's still a little time before it's 2 o'clock on the dot, but... we were hoping all of you would come..."

Goodwill dropped out of the sky, as if on cue, cape flapping behind him. He set the Dalmatian puppy (similarly caped) down next to him. The others were already heading inside, Goodwill noted. Was he late? Darn!

He grabbed the door before it could swing closed again.

"Hello."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Thu 04 Oct 2018.

Bark!


*pant* *pant*

"Well officer, I think that makes everyone." He takes a look to the fact that the dog also has a cape of its own. Wait, no, that can't be the case can it?

He addressed the man who grabbed the door. "So I presume you would be Goodwill? You're just in time."

"Goodwill, yeah," Gil confirmed nodding. The guy was tall and scaly, and even had horns. It was impressive, to say the least. Gil had never seen anything quite like it. "Or Gil Woods. 'Goodwill' is mostly just for the papers. They like the flashy names. Sells copies, I think.

"You must be Scorchy Scales," he said, inadvertently making the name sound like a cousin to Soupy Sales. "And that must be Silver Streak. This little fella here is Scraps... making me odd man out, I guess."

Scraps raced in through the opened door, and between legs, to begin investigating this exciting new place.
This place was rich with the aroma of human bodies, and food!
Some of the latter was even lying on the ground, and Scraps followed his nose.

When he found a particularly tasty morsel, a half eaten doughnut, he scoffed it down, then went racing back looking for Gil to tell him all about it.    “Bark bark bark” , he exclaimed to his best friend, because he knew Gil would want to know.   “Bark!  Bark”.

Today was a great day.
With Gil, every day was a great day.
But this day was awesome.

"Gentlemen... and Scraps... I'm Lieutenant Norman Caswell, the daytime shift lieutenant of this, the 28th precinct... We got this letter 6 days ago." He hands over a piece of paper with words cut out of magazines.


"As you can see, she couldn't find "supervillainess" or even just "villainess..." We think "villa" came from an ad for a real-estate property called Vintage Villas..."

"It's not Echo, either," says another officer. "She's still incarcerated in a-- well, a secret location... It's a normal cell, but the space outside the walls is filled with sleeping gas... so if this is real, this is someone new..."

"And if it's not real," says Lieutenant Norman Caswell, "well... I thought it might be nice for us all to meet anyway... just for good law-enforcement-to-hero relations... We did not invite the media, though."

The fact that this person didn't take the time to just remove the a from "Villa" showed either a careless individual, or a hasty approach to making the note.

"So assuming this is genuine, we have someone who is really confident, possibly careless or impatient in making the letter. They might have found help from others..."

He gave some pause as he recalled the letter of summons made in the paper for this meeting, the numerous names made for these supers surrounding him.

"What gets me is, if they presume to be so effective at fighting against a group of us, why did they only have Blue Dragon on that gun smuggling a while ago?..."

They only had half an hour, and the strategist in him told himself that there was a trap being made all around them. He would have to rely on his senses to reveal any surprises.

"Blue Dragon...?" Gil wondered aloud, not to anyone in particular. He wondered if he was in any way related to the red dragon standing next to him, but asking that sort of thing was probably considered rude. "Why would someone break him out of jail... and only him?

"Message kinda reads like this 'villainess' is a thirteen year-old girl. Uses the word 'awesome' twice. This Blue Dragon have a little sister?"

Scorch Scale realized that some present might not be that aware of the incident with Blue Dragon. He was unsure if the dog was good on comprehension, so he focused on Goodwill. "Blue Dragon is, a denim enthusiast with a knack for throwing lightning. Less literally a dragon then his name might imply. Try not to be covered in water around him, he comes with an aura that packs extra punch."

"As for siblings, I am at a disadvantage on knowing his personal life. It is a possibility."
Scorch Scale finds himself tapping a corner of the letter with a scaly finger. "This writer could just be, overly enthusiastic. History shows people who were made the fool by uncontrolled passions."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:50, Fri 05 Oct 2018.

Scraps realised that Gil wasn’t really interested in hearing about the food he’d found.
He was too focused on that piece of paper.

But Scraps knew what to do, he’d leave a message over here on the edge of this table for anyone who was interested to sniff later.

Once that was done, once he’d sprayed they tale, Scraps could turn his attention to matters: that piece of paper.
Running over to Gil, he leapt up, putting his front paws on agile chest for additional height, and began investigating that paper they were all looking at.
           - rolled 8 using 2d6 with rolls of 4,4.  Figure things out.
Maybe something he smelled on the paper would prove useful later on.

The paper smells like a female... Youngish... A little weird, too, in a way that's hard to describe... it almost makes Scraps want to sneeze. Well, he'll sure know it if he smells it again...

May I please spend my ‘Hold’ on that?
I know it doesn’t fall within the preview of the ‘Figure things out’ questions: instead of spending that Hold on a question later, I’ll simply leave it with the Grandmaster to tell me if Scraps does pick up that scent at any time.

(Yes. Tch, I should have refreshed my memory of "Figure things out" first. Oh well, this works.)

The Silver Streak reads the note over and mulls it over for a moment. Suddenly, his head snaps up and he addresses the others "It's a publicity stunt!" He looks at each hero for "Why else would they want us around? The media?" He looks down at the floor and starts to pace "The real question is, who is the audition for...?"

"...I certainly don't know..." says the Lieutenant. "...Would you perhaps like to see the prisoner...?"

"I might have a chat, but I think the Drake grudge between us might not shift easily. We had quite the fight." Plus it could always be that Blue Dragon knows nothing useful anyway. But they had to give it a shot.

"In any case, I think it might help if we were aware of everyone's capabilities. If nothing else, a little group cohesion might make or break this break-out." More knowledge of each other would improve their improvisation under fire. Plus, he had no idea what Goodwill and his pet bring to the table.

"It's up to you if you want to talk to him," says the Lieutenant. "I just thought you might want to inspect where we're holding him... you know, since someone claims they're going to try to break him out..."




"Sure," says the Lieutenant. "If this person doesn't show up early-- and them hoping for reporters makes it seem like they won't-- then it seems to me like you three... or four... have time to talk, compare notes, or whatever..."

"Mostly meaning me," Gil concluded aloud. He read the newspapers, so he knew that Scorch and Silver had met and worked together before. "Basically, I'm really strong and can fly. Learned I'm bulletproof the hard way.

"That's 'bout it."

The Silver Streak chuckles in spite of himself "I can imagine! As for me, I'm fast. Very fast. When I really get going, most folks can barely see me at all, they just see a... well, a silver streak."



"Of course, Lieutenant." he bends down to give the dalmatian a quick scratch behind the ears "Lead the way."

“Rowf”, Scraps cheered at the sudden attention, and he leaned into the scratch ... his whole body seeming to go into an epileptic fit with excitement, until he nearly fell over.

As the team walked off, he skittered along behind them, and beside them, and ahead of them ... sniffing the world for any signs of threat, food or doggy-messages.


He ended up behind the red scaley one at one point.   Scraps wasn’t sure exactly what that thing was.
That was easily fixed, though; every dog knows how to understand someone better.
       ... so Scraps gave that scaley red butt a real good sniffing.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:09, Sun 07 Oct 2018.

The Lieutenant leads the heroes to the back of the building. There, in a cell, is the denim-wearing young man calling himself the Blue Dragon. "He's still got his powers, but he can't break out of there," says the Lieutenant. "He can electrify the bars, but he knows if he shocks any of us, his next meal will be delayed..."

The Blue Dragon glares sullenly at everyone present.

They say that animals can sense evil.
Well, this guy didn’t seem at all ... friendly.

Scraps did want to get a sniff of this guy, though ... but he kept his distance.
He kinda wondered if the guy smelt like the girly smell on the paper; if her scent was on him.
           - rolled 4 using 2d6
But the acrid scent of ozone around this guy stung Scraps’ nose; and he backed away with a little home.

(Scraps marks 1 xp.)

"What's the matter, pup-pup?" Gil asked Scraps. Dalmatians were an intelligent, intuitive breed... maybe more so than Gil. "Mister BoDraggles isn't going anywhere."

The Silver Streak studies the room, glancing around for any obvious weaknesses. He ignores the inmate, instead checking for hidden devices or gadgets. His mind wanders as he paces, trying to deduce just what the mysterious letter-writer had in store for them.

OOC : 22:39, Today: Silver Streak rolled 10 using 2d6 with rolls of 6,4.  Figure things out.

--What pieces of the plan am I missing?
--What haven’t they taken account of?

Silver Streak stands there and thinks. ...What we're possibly missing... he thinks, ...is that this "villainess" warned us ahead of time. She wants us to be ready... ...More than that... she wants there to be powered heroes here. Why? Why would she want that? Obviously she's hoping for... publicity...? But... Is she... Does she expect us to stop her...? Or will her plan somehow work better with powered heroes here to stop her...? How could that be...?

The dogs bothering had been dismissed with a slight swish of a scaled tail. Thankfully the mutt hadn't persisted this time, because if the disrespecting had continued, things would have been bad indeed for the pup.

Though when they got to the criminal, Scorch Scale felt the sensation of seeing someone you disliked for the first time in an age. He had the sullen look of a crook in bars, defeated, imprisoned. It seemed to Scorch Scale that the villain was too boisterous a sort to contain himself, boasting his change of life and revenge if he knew he was getting freed today.
So it wasn't his plan, just something he would benefit from.

"Well, you're not looking like yourself today huh, Blue Dragon." He said through the bars, trying to  look neutral in all this. The statement occupied the space without question to the obvious fact at hand.

"...Yeah, I'm incarcerated. And I don't like the food here much, either. What're you people doing here? Here to gloat?"

Scraps didn't like this man, so lost interest in him pretty quick.
Instead, he wondered what else was around here that might, indeed, be interesting.

Trotting off, he began sniffing around the place some ... and listening for any disturbances that might fracas about the place.

"I haven't got reason t'gloat," Gil said. He had nothing to do with Blue Dragon's incarceration. "That'd be pretty rude, anyway. We're just looking into a piece of... fan mail you've received."

If they let B.D. know what the letter said, he'd probably clam up. But if he wanted to know, maybe they could get him talking.

"I'm Goodwill, by the way."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:57, Tue 09 Oct 2018.

"Wasn't really talkin' t' you."




Blue Dragon looks like he wants to say something rude himself in reply, but can't actually think of anything.






"...That I've received? What are you talking about...?"





"Didn't ask."

The part of Scorch Scale that was more considerate didn't want to interject, but it was clear that Blue Dragon didn't care much for Goodwill at all.

He gets a bit closer to the bars to change focus towards himself, bringing him very close to the bars. "Look, someone out there is gunning for you, but we don't know their intentions. Did you make any enemies on the streets before we got you?"

"...Gunning for me? Like, out to get me? Someone who isn't you guys...?" Blue Dragon pauses. "...I mean, there's a rival gang... the Eagles... But none of them is really a threat... unless they've gotten somebody new... What have you heard? What sort of... message...? have you guys gotten...?"

"Indeed, someone besides us is coming for you."
It very draconian to do so, but using careful wording and giving enough rope was how some enemies were defeated. For that to work, a little information has to be returned.
""The police got a letter of sorts stating their assault, with you as the goal. It said to bring heroes and media. They described themselves as awesome, as well as heroes. That sound like someone you know?"

"No... Sounds like you guys wrote it yourself..."

The lieutenant looks just a little nervous at that comment, but says nothing.

Scorch Scale didn't let that one slide, the fact the commissioner and mayor allowed only a half hour lead on the attack was worrying...
Then again, using the word "awesome" seemed out of place for anyone who wasn't a teen like Saul, so the letter might be authentic, but their reaction left others wanting... These thoughts resulted in an over shoulder glance at the lieutenant. A dark warning that said he better not be right about you, or else.

Lieutenant or not, the focus was not on Norman Caswell. It was on Blue Dragon, so he turned his head back to the prisoner and asked another question. "Vintage Villas, does that place mean anything to you?"

"Never heard of it. Sounds like it's in Spain? Uh, Italy?"

"I'm gonna put myself out on a limb here, and suggest Sparky doesn't know anything." Gil said. He didn't seem smart enough to be able to pretend ignorance. He was just genuinely ignorant. "There's no point to this line of questioning."

"Same to you, Hollywood," says Blue Dragon. "Feel free t' come in here and say that..."

The Lieutenant gathers you all together out of earshot from Blue Dragon. "Time's passing..." he observes. "Any plans for when the time comes...?"

"Maybe we ought to - what's the phrase - set up a perimeter?" Goodwill wasn't the greatest tactician, but he wasn't exactly dumb, either. And being packed in around the intended target seemed like a bad idea. There was no fallback position. "Silver Streak can patrol the ground, and I can keep watch from above. Anyone got some walkie-talkies we can use t'keep in touch?"

The Silver Streak nods. "We oight to keep tabs on Blue here at all times - does anyone have a way to track him in case he were... misplaced?

... and, in fact, that was what Scraps was already doing.

Scraps was outside, sniffing around ... listening and looking for anything that might resemble wee-mails, food or threats.
- rolled 7 using 2d6 with rolls of 2,5.  Figure it out?
= How can I protect other people?

A meter maid enters the room, and walks up to the heroes with her little notepad for issuing parking tickets. "Um, hello? Sirs? Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could get Silver Streak's autograph...?" She holds out the little ticket-book and a pen.

Scraps went off his little proverbial.

He began barking and growling at her, and carrying on as if he’d just seen the Devil trying to steal his last bone, and was willing to fight the bugger for it.

"Um, wow," says the meter maid, "what a smart little doggie... Oh, heck with it--" She grabs Silver Streak's arm, and her hand glows...

And then she zips across the room at super speed! ZOOM!

"Hey, super speed is awesome! This is terrific! You've just had your power borrowed by... The Impersonator...!"

(Silver Streak has temporarily (until further notice) lost his power of super speed!)

Yep... it was basically just a little fan-girl. She wanted people with powers in one place so she could steal their powers. It was a trap, and they all fell for it.

Goodwill couldn't let her get his powers. He was strong and nearly indestructible. If she could steal his powers she'd...

...wait.

Goodwill's powers had a unique source, and it was his. If she took his powers, she'd be running on an empty tank.

"Neat trick," he said, stepping towards her. "But I bet it won't work on me."

It was a risk, but it felt like a good one to take. Unless her power was different from what Gil was assuming, she could take his power... but couldn't use them.

God willing.

"Huh? Why wouldn't it work on you?" she asked, and she raised her hand toward Goodwill...

(12:28, INSIGHTFUL CHECK: Today: The Impersonator rolled 10 using 2d6 ((5,5)). Success.)

Just as it seemed that she would zip over to Goodwill and try to steal his power... she stopped. "Waaaaaiiiiiit. Is this a trick? Feels like a trick."

...And then, the wall exploded.

Standing there, in shiny chrome-looking armor, was a knight.

The knight points at Scorch Scale. "Drocan!" he bellows. "You were a fool to show up at the summons of the newspaper advertisment, Furnace of the Forest...! The Order of St. George has found thee at last! Step outside, that I may dispatch thee without harming innocents!"

Everyone stares at this newcomer. The Impersonator speaks first. "...I did not see that coming."

"You couldn't have exploded the wall about eight feet to your right?" Blue Dragon complains.

(12:48, INSIGHTFUL CHECK: Today: Blue Dragon rolled 6 using 2d6 ((4,2)). Failure... for now...)

Blue Dragon looks like he almost has a brilliant idea... but then he doesn't. Brilliant ideas are not Blue Dragon's wheelhouse.

When the wall blew inward, Goodwill acted instinctively, putting himself between the implosion and the only female in the room, trying to make himself as wide as possible to absorb the impacts.

Oh, right. She has super-speed now.

A wasted effort, probably. But it was still the right thing to do. She was clearly just a dumb kid, and in way over her head.

"Aagh!" the Silver Streak drops to a knee. For the first time in ages, he felt weak. Slow. He had to do something, find a way to get his speed back!

The Silver Streak scrambles up from the floor, using the timely distraction to try and reach the power-thief. "Here's hoping you don't see this either!" He reaches out to snatch the Impersonator by her forearm.

OOC : Today: Silver Streak rolled 2 using 2d6-1.  Hold them off.

(FAIL! Silver Streak marks 1 new xp!)

The Impersonator spins around at super-speed! "Hey! Looky but no touchy, Silver Streak!"

But Silver Streak's attempted grab combined with the super-speed spinning means Silver Streak goes flying... straight toward the knight! And Silver Streak doesn't even have his super speed to save him...!

(If someone tries to save Silver Streak from colliding with the armored knight of the Order of St. George, then describe how you attempt to do so, and then roll.

If everyone is busy trying to deal with the knight and The Impersonator, and Silver Streak has to deal with this himself, he will have to attempt to Remain Undaunted:

Remain Undaunted
When you would act in a particularly perilous situation, roll + Confident.  On a 10+ you do what you intended, and the opposition doesn’t come to pass.  On a 7-9 you flinch, hesitate, or stall and may be offered a hard bargain, an ugly choice, or a worse outcome.)

rolled 8 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 4,2.  Save the the Streak of Silver.
-- You leave them somewhere precarious (if out of immediate danger)
-- Someone misunderstands or blames you


In a sudden burst of swift agility, Scraps took off towards the situation, and leapt high.
In a magnificent display of Olympian-level acrobatics, he managed to slam into the Silver Slowpoke mid-flight: changing their shared trajectory.

The two came skidding to a halt on the floor up against the bars of BoDrangles’ cell, but outside the reach of Knight of St George.
Even as they landed, the athletic pup found his feet and bounced away towards the fracus again.

They were safe from the St Georgian for the moment, but it left Silver Streak somewhere precarious (of out of immediate danger).
This message was last edited by the player at 20:26, Fri 12 Oct 2018.

Silver Streak is momentarily confused about exactly how he got where he was, and the implications of it...

"Dumb dog..." mutters the Lieutenant, misunderstanding...

Blue Dragon, also not the fastest thinker in the world, looks at Silver Streak, up against the metal bars attached to his own cell... and thinks... he might be about to have a troublesome idea... Any second now...

(If someone else pulls Silver Streak away from the metal bars, fine. If they're too busy, then Silver Streak will have to roll to Remain Undaunted...)

This was getting out of hand. This was a three- or maybe even four-way fight in an enclosed area, and Goodwill didn't know how the other two who were ostensibly on his side were likely to act. He didn't know them. He was feeling himself slow down as he failed to think of what to do next.

Scraps was nothing like that. He was all instinct and action, and bashed the slowed Silver Streak out of the way of what might have otherwise hurt or killed him.

"Good dog!" he said as he turned to make sure that Streak and Scraps were okay. Scraps was, but Streak was about to get electrocuted from behind. Scraps had gotten him out of the frying pan and dropped him into the electric fryer.

"DUCK!" Goodwill shouted at Silver Streak, aiming a punch through the bars of the cell, at the approaching Blue Dragon.




----
Forceful, Clobberin' Time!
Goodwill rolled 8 using 2d6+2 ((2,4)).
-There isn’t much collateral damage and no bystanders are left in danger.

This message was last edited by the player at 01:57, Sat 13 Oct 2018.

Choose 1, Goodwill:


It’s Clobberin’ Time!
When you action up your foes, roll + Forceful.  On a 10+ choose 2, on a 7-9 choose 1
--You hit hard (+1 Stun)
--You avoid most of their retaliation (-1 Stun)
--There isn’t much collateral damage and no bystanders are left in danger

The Silver Streak mind was racing. Was this what it was like for the bystanders when he was around? He was all turned around, if he could just catch his breath for a moment...

OOC : 22:53, Today: Silver Streak rolled 7 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 1,4.  Remain Undaunted. 

Of all the people with concerns about this power theft, Saul had the worst outlook. If imposter just stole the power, that would be one thing. But if she managed to steal the essence of Drocan, if she didn't have the will, mana, spirit (whatever) to contain him...
The city that never sleeps might just sleep.

Then the knight appeared, and now he had a new problem to handle. A Knight from an order of St George. Ho boy.
St George, patron Saint of England. Legend had it that he killed a dragon on a hill. So he must have had an order made for other dragons? Other beasts?
Considering they addressed Drocan and not the civilian, they must presume Drocan has completely possessed a host through his essence. They might be fused, or bonded or whatever, but Saul was the man in the drivers seat.

"Here, let me help with getting away from the innocents."

08:28, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 8 using 2d6+2 ((5,1)).

--Give them a choice between backing off or be stunned

With that, he released a burst of rippling heat and flicking flames to greet the knight. Scorch Scale was hoping to push him back through the hole and keep him on the other side so the dragon could meet him outside.

Goodwill slammed up the bars just as a thought was entering Blue Dragon's mind, and punched Blue Dragon hard... WHAM!

(Blue Dragon takes 2 physical stress.)



Meanwhile, Silver Streak realized that while he was safe from Blue Dragon, he was in immediate danger of getting flamed by Scorch Scale's fire breath that was making the knight back out into the courtyard... would Silver Streak take the fire damage, or risk backing into range of Blue Dragon again (as he prepared to retaliate against Goodwill)?

(Okay,
--the knight has backed off back outside again
--Silver Streak is in trouble and will get to go first again in round 2
--Meanwhile...)

The Lieutenant draws his pistol and aims it at The Impersonator. A few more armed police also burst into the room, guns drawn... "Ohhh no ya don't!" says The Impersonator, and in an instant, she's used super-speed to snatch all the pistols from the men's hands. "Don't bring a gun to a super-speed fight!" she says, holding all the pistols. "I'll just go get rid of these... be right back!" she says, and she zips off out of sight at super speed...

(Silver Streak, it's your turn to react, then I get to post for Blue Dragon and the knight (who mostly is gonna shout things.) Don't anyone else post again this thread yet (except Silver Streak).)

Recoiling from the flames Silver Streak turns to face the bars - and Blue Dragon. The Impersonator had left, but could be back any moment. An idea forms. "Look, kid, things are getting bad," he speaks calmly, doing his best to keep the young man's attention in the chaos "You don't like us.  I get that. But right now you may have a chance to turn things around. When that... Impersonator gets back, help us put an end to her and I'll personally put in a good word for you with the boys in blue." It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

OOC : 08:43, Today: Silver Streak rolled 9 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 4,4.  Talk things out.

(Partial success.)


"How about this instead--" says Blue Dragon, "--you guys let me out'a this cell, and then I help, and then mmmmaybe, if we beat these guys, you guys look th' other way while I escape afterwards?"

(Any of you (except maybe Scraps) may respond to Blue Dragon's counter-proposal next, but don't post about anything else otherwise yet...)

While billowing flames and heat, Scorch Scale couldn't help but chuckle as he said "You're not getting a jail free card that easy."
He had to I take a breath and finish off his point.
"Unlike you, I don't need weak goons to help me do my job."
Which he proved when he returned to pushing the Knight back as he had moments earlier.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:08, Tue 16 Oct 2018.

"--Fine, be that way then...!" yells Blue Dragon, and he rushes forward and shocks Goodwill.

(Goodwill takes 1 stress-- 2, but reduced to 1 by his being so Durable.)

Meanwhile, the knight is shouting. "Drocan! Hie! Come out! Emerge from yon hall of justice, an ye would meet your fate bravely! It was e'er said that Drocan was mighty and terrifying, but ne'er that he was craven...!"

With all the activity and confusion of battles, most may have overlooked the puppy running chaotically around and barking.

And now, as the Knight of St George stumbled backwards into the yard outside, Scraps racer up behind him and latched on to the leather armour tie at his ankle.   Pulling him backwards, and largely off balance, so that he couldn’t attack anyone.
- rolled 8; Hold ‘em Off.
— They can’t attack anyone they weren’t already attacking ... which I hope means, as he wasn’t attacking anyone ...

Like any puppy with a mouthful of ankle/sock/whatever, Scraps was pulling in all kinds of directions, shaking his ‘catch’ and growling playfully.

Saul knew he had to get some protection going for Silver Streak, but the most he could think of was defeating the villianess who was not here.
Looking, he found a loose rebar from when the knight broke the wall. "Keep this for that imposter woman." He said, chucking the bar to Silver Streak.

Scorch Scale was turning towards the opening as he was saying. "You may parade as a Knight, but you have no sense of justice if you would let a criminal be released or another harm heroes of the city. Am I really your enemy, Knight? "

The Silver Streak shakes his head at the Blue Dragon's choice. What a waste. Catching the rebar he decides to change course. He scrambles towards the doors and calls out to the disarmed officers. "Now, while they're distracted - I need some support! Is there an armory, tools, something I can use?"

OOC : 20:19, Today: Silver Streak rolled 12 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 5,6.  Play to the Crowd.

--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 ends

"I hight Sir Gareth, Drocan-- release me, cur! --I am here for thee, and thee only-- heel, hound! --save shouldst any attempt to block my way to defeating thee... avaunt, mongrel...!"

He keeps gently shaking his heel to try to get Scraps to release him...

"...The armory's too far, if you don't have your speed... what sort of tools do you want...?" says a policeman...

Scraps continued to hold and tug at Sir Gareth’s pant leg (or armour strap) ... in that way that annoying puppies can.
Feeling like quite the wolf, he growled (un)menacingly as he did so.


~ rolled 13 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 5,6.  continue to Hold ‘Em Off.

= You take away useful items from them: cause Sir Gareth to drop his sword (preferably by accidentally throwing it far out of reach)
         and
= They can’t attack anyone they weren’t already attacking.

Sir Gareth drops his sword, and it lands several feet away. "Oh, for... look, that's enough from you, master hound...!"

Sir Gareth picks up Scraps bodily, detaching Scraps from what he was biting onto, and gives him a good slide across the pavement. Then Sir Gareth rushes to pick up his sword again...

"DON'T—" The anger that flashed in Goodwill's eyes was almost a palpable force. "TOUCH—" He pushed off the bars of the cage hard enough that they bent inward; he didn't even notice. "MY—" He was across the room in a blink, his feet not touching the floor even once, and through the hole in the wall.

"DOG!!!"

The self-proclaimed knight was armored. He'd probably survive being tackled through that tree behind him.

---

It’s Clobberin’ Time!
Goodwill rolled 8 using 2d6+2 ((1,5)).
--You hit hard (+1 Stun)

This message was last edited by the player at 02:11, Mon 22 Oct 2018.

"Od's blood!" swears Sir Gareth. "With what manner of villains have you allied yourself, Drocan?" Sir Gareth questions loudly. He seems to be talking louder than he realizes, probably due to the ringing in his ears-- the tree did not survive Sir Gareth hitting it. "And besides, I hurt the mongrel not... Bah! This is woodness! Have at thee, klazomaniac!"

Sir Gareth hits Goodwill a truly mighty blow with his sword... It doesn't knock Goodwill back, but it sure hurts. (Goodwill takes 1 stress.)

"Mister, your sword won't hurt me if bullets can't." It had hurt, of course, but he was adept at not showing it. Keeping up a heroic appearance in a fight was something Goodwill worked hard to learn. He wasn't quite a master at it... yet... but at least he was really good at not showing pain. Especially not in front of a crowd, like the one that was gathering on the other side of the street.

Also, talking gave him a few extra seconds to shake off the hit.

"But I'm starting to think you've been hit in the head too many times. Scorch isn't a bad guy!"</i> This was said loudly, Goodwill hoping to whip up a cheer from the crowd. "You can't judge him based on how he looks!"

Goodwill began to circle with the knight, each of them looking to their opponent for signs of weakness.

"It would have been easy for him to go evil," he continued, projecting all the way to the cheap seats in the back. He was new in town, and getting the crowds on his side was an essential ingredient to his intended success. "The world judges him by his outside, so why not just be ugly inside? But he did the right thing. He became a hero.

"He might be the ugliest dang hero there ever was, but I'd rather be him than you.

"He's brave!

"He's noble!"

Goodwill lunged in and launched a low punch at the knight's armored stomach.

"And I don't know what klazomaniac means!"

---

Goodwill rolled 10 using 2d6+2 ((2,6)).
 --You hit hard (+1 Stun)
 --There isn’t much collateral damage and no bystanders are left in danger

This message was last edited by the player at 15:50, Mon 22 Oct 2018.

The Silver Streak clenches his fists. Of course things wouldn't be that simple. If he was going to have any chance against a speedster, he had to play it smart. If he could just find a way to get near her...

He scans the room for a disguise, any officer wearing full riot-gear.

Sure, there's two policemen wearing riot gear...

The reptilian hero sees that his unpowered companion trying to improvise tools for himself and whispers his way"Get a fire hydrant, um extinguisher." It would make sense in a bit of time. With some recollections to that time with Blue Dragon.

Looking back into the streets, it seemed that all manner of words were not going to sway this man, that much Scorch Scale could see. He seemed determined, running on principle as much as anything else. So he would have to be brutal, and lay a little smackdown on this Knight before Goodwill stole the thunder for him.

"Take on someone your own time period, knave!" He projected forwards the circling pair, waiting for the moment to strike at the knight with his flames.

It's clobberin time
19:29, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 7 using 2d6+2 ((3,2)).

--There isn’t much collateral damage and no bystanders are left in danger

As much as he saw chances to really harm his target, Scorch Scale couldn't afford to bring them to harm.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:09, Mon 22 Oct 2018.

Snapping at the one officer on the left, the Silver Streak fills them in on his plan "Quickly, your vest, your helmet - give it to me!" he speaks with urgency, almost shouting "The only way to get near her is to surprise her, and she won't be expecting me this way! In the meantime, go! Call for support!" It was a gamble, to be sure. Silver only hoped that he had enough time to get the gear on.

EDIT : He whips over to face the corner, removes his helmet and replaces it with the officer's as quickly as possible. He had made quick changes like this countless times, but now every action felt like it went so slowly, and not because of his speed. He would be exposing his most closely guarded secret - but without his powers the situation was desperate. He would just have to deal with the fallout later.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:20, Mon 29 Oct 2018.

Just as Silver Streak finishes his change of clothing, The Impersonator returns. "Wow, super speed is the best! I just ran home, cleaned my room, started some laundry, and went and stole this week's groceries and took 'em home and put 'em away. Finally, I realized I'd better come back here and finish what I started-- jailbreaking Blue Dragon!"

"Wait, jailbreaking Blue Dragon...?" says Blue Dragon.

"Yup! Let's see, what's the easiest way to do this..." She glances around. "Ah ha!" she says, spotting a ring of keys on the Lieutenant's belt.

A couple of policemen nearest to her leap at her, but she easily zips to another spot in the room. "Ah-ah-ah! No touchy the villainess! Now, it'd be easier if you'd just hand those keys over, Mr. Police Guy..."

Outside, Scraps was having a wonderful time.

As Gil took to the armoured guy, Scraps went bounding over t the crowd of Spectators and Media that had gathered for this Media Spectacle.
And with this tail wagging at one end, and his ears and tongue flapping about at the other, he began bound around in front of, and within, the crowd ... reveling in the attention and pats that his adoring fans rained upon him.

- rolled 7 using 2d6+1 ((3,3))
= they think better of our group

The Silver Streak holds out a palm to the other officers, urging them to stay back. Slowly, deliberately, he approaches the Impersonator. He reaches a hand back, as if to make for the keys.

At the last possible second he snatches at her wrist with his other hand instead.

OOC : Not sure what to roll for this one... Hold them off?

10:24, Today: Silver Streak rolled 2 using 2d6-1 with rolls of 1,2.  Hold Them Off.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:24, Fri 26 Oct 2018.

Sure, give it a shot...

The Impersonator whips her hand back at super-speed. "Ah-ah-ah! No touchy!"

She shoves Silver Streak away from her dozens of times, all in one second. She's not that strong, but getting pushed backwards sixty times in one second will have a dramatic effect.

(Silver Streak, roll Agile.)

The crowd cheering for Scorch Scale and Scraps and Goodwill throws Sir Gareth... well, that and the damage the heroes has done. He assumes a defensive guard position, ready to smite anyone who comes within range, or to withstand any other sort of attack. "What fell bewitchment hast thou worked, Drocan, to make these heroes-- and this city-- love thee in this modern age...?"

Any applause for Scorch Scale feels a little out of place to him. Maybe a little of what the dog was doing affected him by proxy? No matter, there was a Knight interfering with him right now.

"There is no magic behind this." Scorch Scale said to the man clad in armor. "The only cause for this is the power of being an example. Whatever happened before was a thing of the past. Plus, I have bigger fish to fry." Referring to villain behind why the police sent out the newspaper letter.

In reply to The Impersonator (msg # 92):

The Silver Streak gasps for air, struggling for breath after the unexpected flurry of blows.

22:42, Today: Silver Streak rolled 6 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 1,4.  Agile.

(Silver Streak gains 1 xp and a truckload of complications to his life. The break cannot be caught.)

Silver Streak not only falls backwards... his riot helmet falls off. The high silver collar covering his neck can thusly be seen... as can his face. He grabs it and shoves it back on one long second later, but it's too late.

If anyone noted the back of Silver Streak's head in the quick change he'd done earlier, they didn't say anything. Now, though, not only was his race revealed, but even his face for a split second. There were a couple of audible reactions from the gathered policemen, such as "Oh...!" and "...Well, I'll be...!"

(09:13, CONFIDENT check: Today: The Impersonator rolled 5 using 2d6 ((1,4)). Failure.)

The Impersonator certainly noted not only his face, but also his silver collar. "What th'-- wow, no wonder I didn't see Silver Streak around here when I got back. Nice try... But... but um... but you're no match for me without your speed... Silver Streak...! Uh, muah-hah-hah!" She's trying to not make a big deal of it, but this surprise regarding the identity of Silver Streak has thrown her, and she's clearly feeling very awkward.

She's apparently even momentarily forgotten that she has the keys to the jail cells in her hand, and that she was about to free Blue Dragon... She's just sort of staring at the riot-gear-beclad Silver Streak...

Sir Gareth holds his position, and his defensive stance. "...Are you... are you... What are you? Are you suggesting-- that you are in control of Drocan, young man? And not the other way around...?"

Goodwill wound up to throw a full-power punch at the knight, and then noticed that he and Scorchy were talking. He kept his fist cocked for a second longer then dropped it.

"Put away the medieval cutlery and we can talk," he said. "In fact, if we're all copacetic, maybe you might even be able to help us out with our other problem."

"Let me deal with this." Scorch Scale directed towards Goodwill, hoping the goodie two shoes would know he meant to resolve his knight problem himself. A dragon didn't need others in this way.

Darn him, darn this Knight for asking that question. It would be so easy for Saul just to tell the truth, to air it out and have this Knight accept his existence. But Saul had put effort into the "no secret" presentation, and not without good reason.

If it was known that Scorch Scale had a secret identity, people would know he could be found, possibly blackmailed. His family and anyone he knew could be compromised. He couldn't afford that.

The dragon shaped like a human turned back to the knight to say. "Look, whomever I was before, this "Drocan" guy, some person, I don't know." Scorch Scale raised his hands to use finger quotes the old name from the book. "But I know that they are gone. Nothing but instincts up here that tell me how to do. Not what to do. I'm Scorch Scale now, and I'll show everyone why I'm the best dragon around."

That aught to have done it.

(Yeah, make a roll...

Talk things out
When you talk things out, roll +Charming
The GM will decide what happens based on your roll.)

Talk Things Out
14:45, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 7 using 2d6-1 ((5,3)).

Sir Gareth seems... overwhelmed. "This bears investigation. I shall have to report this to the Order of St. George... Meantimes, what other emergency hath gathered ye all here...?"

Meanwhile, Scraps continued to bark and play with his new friends, licking and accepting all their attention.


Without anything else to do for the moment ...
- rolled 7 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 3,3.  Play the Crowd.
     = they like our group!

"There's a girl — uh, damsel, maybe? — in the building. She's stolen the power of super-speed from our other friend." It seemed like a good time to chime in again. "We're hoping to get her to give it back before she hurts someone... or herself."

"Whoa there boy scout. The lady is being boisterous about breaking a guy out of prison." Scorch Scale reminded Goodwill. "If she were forced against her will, she would just get the job done. She's doing this of her own accord, so we need to stop it, now."

Gil wasn't sure (a) what he'd said to imply that the girl was being forced, or (b) why it would matter when convincing the knight to help. But he (c) wasn't getting into that now.

"Anyway...."

This was his chance. While the Impersonator was distracted - no time to think about the fallout of his identity, the Silver Streak had to move! He makes another desperate lunge.

OOC : 10:54, Today: Silver Streak rolled 4 using 2d6-1 with rolls of 1,4. Hold Them Off.

(Silver Streak gains yet another 1 xp. The break cannot be caught.)

The Impersonator steps aside at super-speed, and Silver Streak has to throw out his hands to stop himself from falling on his face (well, riot helmet visor).

"Whoop! Thanks for helping me focus, Silver Streak. Got, uh, a little distracted there." She saunters over to the door of the jail cell and starts trying keys. "Hmm, not this one... Not this one... Let's see..."

(Scorch Scale, make a Confident roll for leadership...)

Leadership

18:33, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 2 using 2d6 ((1,1)).

No breaks all round

"--Halt," said Sir Gareth, wary. "How dost I wit this be not some game nor deceit to get me to battle someone whom I shouldst not oppose...?"

(EDIT: Oh and Scorch Scale gets 1 xp)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:55, Mon 05 Nov 2018.

"Because it doesn't matter to me what you think. I'm going to do the right thing and stop the criminal. I don't care if it's with or without your help." Scorch Scale answered the knight. Annoyed at having precious time wasted, he turned his back to the knight and proceeded to start walking back to the hole in the wall.

"Oh, and Goodwill, I know you're helping, but allow me to deal with the knight if he causes problems, he's my issue to sort. If you can, opening a fire hydrant nearby might help me."

With that, knowing people didn't care for his word, the dragon looked for a fire extinguisher for another avenue of his plan.

"Uh... okay, man. You're the boss." Goodwill took a twenty-yard hop to the nearest hydrant. Scorch was decidedly not his boss — seemed he was kind of a jerk, really — but it was a turn of phrase. In fact, Goodwill was beginning to regret some of the nice things he'd said about Scorch earlier. He'd assumed the guy had at least some heroic qualities, but now he was wondering if that was really the case.

With a slight shrug, he called out, "Ready when you are!!" and put a hand on one of the side-caps to the hydrant.

Scraps came bounding over to where Goodwill was, happy to be will Gil.
And something told his little puppy brain that there was going to be some fun soon ... maybe with water.
He was so excited, his tail wagged so hard that it nearly threw him off balance as he ran.

In reply to The Impersonator (msg # 108):

The Silver Streak gets to his feet, shaking his head. This was getting embarrassing. Time for a different approach. "Clearly I'm just not... fast enough to stop you," he calls out to the Impersonator "But trust me if you go through with this, you will end up on a path that leads to another cell just like this one. You put all this together, you're clearly very bright. So think! What could you possibly get that is worth helping a man like him?" he gestures towards Blue Dragon in the cell. His warning was a stall, but it was all he had.

15:21, Today: Silver Streak rolled 9 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 5,3.  Talk Things Out.

It worked... enough... She paused. "What I want is what he had... a gang! Followers! Minions! Henchmen! I figure that's about all I need to become a really awesome archvillainess! Fame and riches! With helpers and the ability to borrow people's powers, what more do I really need? Who could stop me? Can you give me a reason why I shouldn't be doing this?" She hesitates, then decides to go on... "In fact, if I were you? I would already be twice as far on my way toward archvillainness. What the heck do you owe the world? Nothing, from what I saw just a moment ago... absolutely nothing...!"

Jim paused. The Impersonator had a point, and the words stung. "I'll tell you what I owe," he steps forward, pulling his helmet off in a practiced, fluid motion "I owe a chance to prove the world wrong, to show that the good in the world outweighs the bad. And not for me - for them!" He gestures out behind him. "For the folks who try, even when the whole world is against them. Oh, being selfish is easy! It'd be easy to make a name, to use my advantages for me, but in the end it's just a lonely road to a quiet grave. We're all in this world together and I'd rather give people - all people - something to smile about rather than to hate for once." He takes another step, looks her square in the eye and holds out his hand "You want followers? Show them something worth following."

The Impersonator seems quite moved by Silver Streak's words. "I... I..."

Blue Dragon is less impressed. He leaps forward and successfully grabs the keys out of The Impersonator's hand, since she's right next to the door of his cell. "Gimmee those!" he shouts, and then he starts frantically trying the keys in the lock...

"Dang it!" Things were going sideways again, with Blue Dragon taking advantage of anyone getting too close. That guy needed to be watched like a hawk.

Fortunately, watching people like a hawk was pretty easy for someone like Goodwill. It wasn't precisely a super-power. It was more... super-adjacent. People who could fly generally had excellent vision, beyond mere 20/20. Although Blue Dragon, Sliver Streak, and the little blonde troublemaker were nearly thirty feet away, Goodwill could see precisely what was going on through the great gaping hole in the wall.

"Did you know that water and electricity don't mix?" he asked Scraps as he poked a hole in the the side of the hydrant facing the hole in the wall. (His fingers would be sore in the morning; that metal was strong.) At their current distance, everyone in the room would be soaked like they'd run through a backyard sprinkler.

---

I don't know what to roll for this. I'm willing to accept a GM roll to keep things moving, or can just roll what you tell me to.

(I'm calling it a Forceful roll, in regard to being able to direct the water.

10:01, Today: The Grandmaster, on behalf of Goodwill, rolled 7 using 2d6+2 ((2,3)). Partial success.)

Goodwill shot the water right onto Blue Dragon.

The trouble was, he also soaked everyone else in the room, too-- and the strong spray of water connected them all, so they all took some damage.

(Blue Dragon takes two stress.
The Impersonator takes one stress.
Silver Streak takes one stress.
All cops take one stress.)

Blue Dragon, still twitching, passed out, falling to the floor.

"Hey! Ow! That hurt!" said The Impersonator. "How'd you like it if I zapped you like that?" she said... And she reached forward and touched Blue Dragon's leg... and she stood up, furious, crackling with energy, glaring at Goodwill...

On the other hand, Silver Streak could feel his speed return. Apparently the young woman could only "borrow" one power at a time...

Scorch Scale was glad he hadn't been hit by the hydrant, but he wasn't glad to hear the situation is potentially reverting back with this "impersonator" being aggressive.

He owed Goodwill as much as to suffer a little to detain her. Paint the target on him. "Hey, Imposter!" Scorch Scale called out. "He was just trying to stop Blue Dragon. Don't take it out on him for an innocent mistake."

Come on and hit me. The hero thought to himself. He tried to reposition himself so  he had her focus and they would be in range of the hydrant.

"Ack!" Silver Streak sputters from the blast. He was soaked, tired and... had never felt better. Flexing his hands, he could feel it. He was back. He springs to his feet and zips over to the hole in the wall. "Listen up - she swapped my speed for Blue Dragons raw power," he calls out to the others with a wry smile "So we should be able to wrap this up in no time. Wat ch conductive metals and the name of the game is still keep away." With any luck his allies woukd know to stay out of reach. Now, he thinks, speaking of wrapping things... Silver Streak looks out at the street, to see if the fire department had arrived in the commotion.

OOC : 06:38, Today: Silver Streak rolled 10 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 4,4.  Inspire the Team.

"Now, let's just hold on," Goodwill said, speaking loudly in order to be heard by the Impersonator, who was still a dozen paces away. She was mad as a wet hen, and had some justification there. Well, she would have been justified, if not for the fact that she set up this entire scenario in order to make trouble. "I'm real sorry if anyone got hurt. Even you, miss. Can we just all calm down and talk like sensible folks?"

---

+1 Charming - how good you are at influencing people
--Talk things out
--Play to the crowd

+1 Forward (Inspired!)

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

The Impersonator seems, if anything, confused (and nervous) by everyone's sudden niceness. "Are... are you all being nice to me because you're scared of me...? I'm a villainess! I wanna rob from the rich and give to the me! I-- I'll break the law at the drop of a hat! What's with all the negotiation all of'a sudden...?"

"We're not scared of you, hon," Goodwill said, doubling down. As he spoke, he leaned over to squeeze the hole in the fire hydrant shut. He'd have to pay to replace that cap, maybe. Not as expensive as a super-villain rampage, though. "And if you wanted to rob from the rich, you wouldn't have stuck around here after grabbing my pal's super-speed.

"Way I see it, you already know someone with powers, or you wouldn't know how yours work. Am I right? Parent? Big Brother? Someone who said that you were too young and inexperienced to do what they do? You're angry at someone. But whoever it is, he's not here.

"Can we just stop and talk before someone actually get's hurt?"

The girl had barely broken any laws yet. A couple of misdemeanors, maybe, but nothing that the police would make too much of a stink over. St. George — or whoever he was — was the guy doing all the damage. So she could still just stop and (probably) walk away.

"Cup of coffee? On me."

---

+1 Charming - how good you are at influencing people
--Talk things out
--Play to the crowd

Goodwill rolled 5 using 2d6+1 ((1,3)).

"'Hon'...?'"



"I've worked all this out! I'm not unfallible!" One of the policemen rolls his eyes a bit at the verbal mistake, but he was standing behind The Impersonator, so she didn't see it. "I've thought hard about all this! I just need some good henchmen! 8 to 12 should do it, I think!"



"You don't know anything about me! If you only knew how wrong you were, then wow...!"




"Actually, I'm mad at you! So hold still--"




"Oh, this'll be on you, all right--"

14:07, Today: The Impersonator rolled 10 using 2d6 ((4,6)).
It’s Clobberin’ Time!
When you action up your foes, roll + Forceful.  On a 10+ choose 2:
--You hit hard (+1 Stun)
--You avoid most of their retaliation (-1 Stun)

The Impersonator rushed over and grabbed Goodwill. Instead of trying to hit him, she just let her borrowed power do her work for her, jolting him for lots of electrical damage.

Goodwill falls backwards, and touches the hood of a police car... The police car shares the electrical damage, and a POP can be heard from inside the engine block. Soon flames are coming from under the hood.

Electricity or no electricity, the fuel tank's probably gonna blow soon! The crowd of onlookers starts screaming and running for cover...

(Goodwill takes 2 stress... and there is now an opportunity to rescue innocent bystanders... somehow...)

Scraps was nearby, frolicking and playing silly in the water and wet grass.

When Impersonator came running out and attacked Gil, well, Scraps didn't like that one bit.
He went racing right at the girl, and as she began to move away, he got right under her feet ... like only a puppy can ...
          - rolled 8 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 5,2.  Hold 'em Off.
           -- You draw them away from people you choose
... causing her to trip over him, and her own feet, and land in the muddy puddle there.

Scorch Scale had moved the Impersonator away from Goodwill, but the problem of the engine was still present. Scorch Scale had to try and stop the incoming explosion harming civilians.
He couldn't see a place to contain it, and there was no telling how long it was before the big bang. Stopping the bomb was a no go, but containing the explosion might work.

The dragon was running at full pelt towards the civilians. "Get down!" He commanded was as much authority as he could muster at a full sprinting speed.
The plan was simple, blast some fire, hoping for the concussive force to counteract the explosion and protect the crowd. He just had to time it right and have good, swift control.

Romantic Idiot!
19:57, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 4 using 2d6+1 ((1,2)).
Exp adding at least...

Yet Scorch Scale found himself being slow, maybe it was striding through the water on the floor which made him wince a little, maybe he was thrown off by the developments for a moment. Whatever it was, he wasn't going to make it, and even if he got there in time, there wouldn't be the time to breathe out the flames.
He knew he was going to fail them, his arm was outstretched hoping to do something in time. He couldn't fail the innocent, not now. But he would, for all his efforts before, he was going to fail now.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Sat 24 Nov 2018.

What most people "knew" regarding exploding cars, they learned from the movies and television. In other words, they were mostly wrong. Cars rarely exploded, and if they did it was because they had less gas in the tank, not more. Gasoline fumes exploded. So a police car sitting curbside at One Police Plaza bright and early in the morning? Probably a full tank. So it would burn like a monster, but probably not explode.

And the fire would first need to reach the tank, which was thankfully in the back of American-made cars.

But a burning car was still a massive hazard, and although explosion was a one-in-a-million long-shot, odds like that still paid off once every million or so times. So the burning car had to GO.

"Good boy, Scraps," Gil said, even as he turned and hefted the front end of the police cruiser onto one shoulder. He adjusted his footing and hefted again, this time landing the transverse axle squarely on his shoulders. "Show her what happens to bad girls who can't play nice!

"Now, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

He jumped into the sky, headed South-ish for what he believed was the closest water.

---

2 Forceful - how strong you are and able to destroy stuff.  Key for Bricks.
--It’s Clobberin’ Time
--Hold them (or IT) off!

Goodwill rolled 8 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 1,5.  Forceful, Hold IT off!
(--take away useful items from them... no exploding car for you!)

"Oh... wow..." said the Impersonator, watching Goodwill fly off with the car. "That guy is really powerful. And tough. I have got to borrow his power. But not right now..." She stood up, and glared at Scraps. "If I hadn't turned off Blue Dragon's power in time, you would'a gotten me zapped, puppydog..." She looked around. "Okay, let's see what you do," she said running up to Sir Gareth...

He held up his sword defensively, but she just reached in and touched his gauntleted hand...

Sir Gareth sat down in surprise and shock, and dropped his sword. "Od's blood...!"

The Impersonator grabbed the hilt of the sword before it hit the ground. She tried a practice swing. "Strong," she said. "Really strong. And kinda tough, even without armor. Okay, Dragon Guy... Let's see if this'll slay ya!"

The Impersonator ran toward Scorch Scale, sword pulled back and ready to swing...

"Good choice choosing him over me, Impostor. We both know you couldn't handle the heat." Scorch Scale said in an attempt to intimidate. Saul had dedicated time to finding a balance that keeps things in check, this villain hadn't. So if she took away the "superpower" of being possessed by Drocan... Things would be precarious to say the least.

He had to keep his distance so she couldn't retaliate, by sword or by power-pick-pocketing. Which lead to his idea, see, you can become invisible in one of two ways. The first is becoming undetectable, the other was to blind your opponent. So, thankful for the water Goodwill left behind, Scorch Scale released the heat from within his body, gushing out a hot flame. When it interacted with the water on the street, there was a hiss as water was converted into steam.

He had to hope that the wind wouldn't pick up, and that the steam would be enough to obstruct human vision...

(Since the key thing you're trying to do is to not get hit, I'm calling this an Agile roll, since that's what Agile is for...

09:25, Today: The Grandmaster, on behalf of Scorch Scale, rolled 9 using 2d6+1 ((3,5)) Partial success.)

"Hey! Where'd ya go? Are y'over here? Maybe over here?"

SWOOOSH... SWOOSH...

Well, Scorch Scale's attempt at steam worked somewhat. On one hand, it delayed him getting whacked with a giant sword. On the other hand, it didn't stop The Impersonator, only slowed her down... and her not being able to see what she was aiming at meant innocent bystanders were in more danger than ever, as she swung blindly...

(There are now two possible opportunities for rescue:
--Protect innocent citizens
--Help Scorch Scale

Until/unless the steam is removed, all heroes will have a -1 to rescue rolls...)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:40, Tue 27 Nov 2018.

The Silver Streak races to action, pulling people out from the steam and into the street. Squinting through the thick air he does his best to get each and every person. It would take a while, but he was going to make sure there wouldn't be any bystander left in swatting range.

OOC: Using the power Catch: You can rescue people like a Romantic Idiot with your powers and Confident.

15:35, Today: Silver Streak rolled 8 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 2,5.  Romantic Idiot!

--You leave them somewhere precarious (if out of immediate danger)
--You take significant time to rescue them

1. Silver Streak, answer: What is the new situation that is precarious, though out of immediate danger, into which you move the people?

2. Because it takes even Silver Streak time to save so many people (as much as he is, anyway), Silver Streak will miss the next round because he's busy... I'll remind you when you can take your next turn, Silver Streak...

Scraps loved playing with people.   These people were so much fun.
He ran over enthusiastically to where the nice girl was playing with the nice lizard man, and joined in playing with them.

Like only a cute, bouncy puppy can, he managed to get right under Impersonator's feet, inadvertently causing her to have to choose between backing off or tripping over and becoming stunned.

          - rolled 7 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 2,3.  Hold 'Em off

"What th'?! Puppydog, is that you again? You're the most dangerous out of all these guys...!"

The Impersonator backs off for a moment.

(OOC: >smacks forehead< When I said earlier "Until/unless the steam is removed, all heroes will have a -1 to rescue rolls..." I kind of wondered if I shouldn't apply that to messing with the Impersonator, too, but I said it the way I meant to say it, and I'll stand by it...)

It's Clobberin Time!
23:48, Today: Scorch Scale rolled 7 using 2d6+2 ((2,3)).
-You hit hard (+1 Harm)

From the innocuous comments that Impersonator had said, Scorch Scale knew that she had taken some of the magic resilience with her and the sword could do some nasty damage. He had to hit hard and do so now. She needed to go down.

While he had the senses to perceive in the steam, and the ability of shaping the fire to avoid hitting Scraps the Dog, he couldn't say much for the rest of the flames beyond the initial blast. He had to trust that Silver Streak had the rescue end covered.

quote:

X Area of Effect
You can selectively hit everyone in a given area.  You do not need to attack allies.

That ability covers saving Scraps.

quote:

X Enhanced Senses
You get a reflexive roll to investigate someone whenever the Editor decides.  This will include any ambushes, any shapeshifters, and probably a whole lot of false alarms as there won’t always be one and the Editor won’t tell you what you are looking for,

That ability I'm just RPing as you said about freedom to mess with Impersonator without penalty.

Scorch Scale aimed over the dog's head, missing him completely. He also used his draconic senses to be sure to miss all the citizens milling around in the steam...

However, his flames snapped an electrical cable overhead... it didn't hit anyone when it fell, but it was only a matter of time before someone wandered into contact with it!

Meanwhile, The Impersonator was displeased. "OWWWW that's hot! That hurts! I'm gonna get you, dragon guy...!"

(Silver Streak, you're up... you can try to deal with The Impersonator before she finds Scorch Scale, or else deal with the live electrical cable... but touching the live cable could result in damage to you...)

Almost half a mile due south of the Police HQ was the Manhattan end of the Brooklyn Bridge, crossing the East River into Brooklyn. It was the river that Gil wanted, not the bridge. But the bridge was an excellent landmark to look for over the tops of buildings as he'd risen into the air with the burning car, and had shown him precisely where to go.

It took less than a minute to cross the distance, even keeping his flight speed to about half of his maximum. Gil wasn't sure that the car could withstand being buffeted by winds at that speed. The last thing he needed was it to rip in half in his hands, at which point he'd surely drop at least one of those halves into the city below. So he kept the speed down on the short trip to the river.

There was plenty of free space on the river, fortunately, for him to throw his flaming payload without hitting anything else. He flexed both arms and pitched it overhand. It splashed down and promptly exploded, sending up a spray of polluted river water, but causing no harm to anyone or anything besides itself.

Gil turned, slapping his hands together in a futile attempt to de-crud himself, and flew back to the battle site.

This time, he went a lot faster.

Time seemed to freeze for the Silver Streak. He saw the falling cable, the distracted villain, who he couldn't directly touch... and an idea formed. "I just know I'm going to regret this," he springs into action with a grimace. The Silver Streak snatches the downed line and races towards the Impersonator. He grits his teeth, bracing for pain as he forces his legs to move. He runs until the cable snags against the Impersonator and uses his momentum to circle a few coils of live voltage tightly around the power-stealing menace.

OOC : 15:18, Today: Silver Streak rolled 9 using 2d6-1 with rolls of 6,4.  Hold Them Off.

--They can’t act as effectively (-1 Stun ongoing until your actions are countered)

And that's it. The Impersonator shrieks, and collapses.

(Silver Streak takes 3 stress.)

Suddenly, the cable around The Impersonator is cut from behind... Sir Gareth picked up his sword that The Impersonator dropped. Now The Impersonator is still wrapped up in the cable... but the section she's wrapped in no longer carries any current.

The crowd gasps and mutters, since Silver Streak's speed has sufficiently dispersed the last of the steam. (They get out of the street, too.)

"A bold move, Silver Knight, and nobly self-sacrificing, but the villainess would surely die if not freed from the cable's bite. Fortunately, her relinquishing my power allowed me to act."

He turns. "Now, let us parley further, Drocan... or, well... Boy, if not Drocan. Prithee explain to me further exactly why I should go from hither and suggest to the Knighthood of St. George that there is a small possibility that you should not be hunted down and slain as soon as possible... for I warn you, they shall be loath to cease questing for your end merely on my say-so..."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:23, Sat 08 Dec 2018.

Scraps hen came bounding over, and leapt bodily at Scorch Scale
... catching him full in the chest and sending the lizard-lord to the ground upon his back.

Scraps then began licking the red dragonic’s face enthusiastically.
Showing everybody, including Sir Gareth, what an awesome fellow the scaley hero is ... because everyone knows that animals can sense evil, and certainly wouldn’t be loading the reptilian up with doggy kisses if he were, indeed, evil.


- Play to the Crowd (including Sir Gareth)
- rolled 9 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 6,2.  Play to the crowd.
= they think better of you as a group

Though it wasn't strictly necessary, Gil chose this moment to make his return known to all in a suitably dramatic fashion. He executed a perfect three-point 'heroic landing', dropping out of the sky in an eyeblink to land with one knee and one fist upon the ground. He placed himself between Sir Whatsisface and Scorch.

"Then you can do it on my say-so," said Goodwill in his best authoritative tone as he rose to both feet. He'd just carried two tons of flaming steel to the river using his bare hands. Anyone with half a brain would take his say-so extremely seriously. "Because I judge men by their actions... and his have been far more noble than yours."

But really he wasn't trying to convince the knight directly. This trial was going to be in the court of public opinion, where Goodwill generally shined.

---

+1 Charming - how good you are at influencing people
--Play to the crowd

Goodwill rolled 12 using 2d6+1 ((5,6)).

When you ask bystanders for help, understanding, sympathy, or to be impressed, roll +Charming.  On a 10+ pick 3, on a 7-9 pick 1
--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 ends

This message was last edited by the player at 16:33, Sat 08 Dec 2018.

Everybody watching goes "Awwwwwww...!"

Even Sir Gareth cannot hide a tiny smile...

"Hmph," says Sir Gareth. "Doing is not the issue. It is whether my order is convinced that shall be the problem... Still..."

The crowd yells at Sir Gareth, and small shouts of things like "leave dragon guy alone!" can (barely) be heard.

"Mmmmph. Anyone can act chivalrous. If you people knew of Drocan's..." Sir Gareth trailed off, and sighed. "Still, actions are not to be discounted... no matter how effective they may or may not be, apparent intentions should count for something... Still, I wouldst hear from this... boy... myself, before acting further..."

"Aww, come on. Stop it you, lil' rascal." Scorch Scale protested. Despite his low voice, he couldn't put up a tone of genuine resistance to the dog. It didn't help when he made weird drake chuckles under the layer of affection. If he was Saul, he especially couldn't see the nice dogs enthusiasm in a bad light.

Before he could get up from the floor and defend himself, Goodwill was already on the case and seemed to get some people happy with him. He was pretty sure there were one or two people who were practically agast at this man with angelic presence. It seemed nice for people to have his back.

When he could finally get up and address the knight, Scorch Scale felt the good mood from everyone there buoying him a little. Which was helpful to counter the act of being called "Boy" by the walking tin can man.

He almost started with the insult, but kept it down to save face. "Look, um, Sir Gareth. I am not that dragon from before, I really intend to do good, to save lives, even if it is difficult and inconscievable. I will continue to put others before myself."

"I am well aware that it might be impossible to change their minds in one encounter. But, at the very least, can you see about them planning the  bouts to be away from civilians?" Scorch Scale made a gesture to the damage around them, from scraps of metal from the car, to the bits of rubble, cut electrical wire, water and damaged hydrants. "So much damage can occur in battle, even indirectly, and I don't want anyone else getting harmed over this. At least consider telling them this. Please."

Standing beside Scorch Scale, Scraps barked once to Sir Gareth enthusiastically,  as though suggesting to the knight, “Yeah, whadda ya say, friend”.  His tail wagging so hard it nearly shook his bum off.

Then, he went bounding over to leap into Goodwill’s arms.

"That's my good boy," Gil said, catching Scraps. He scratched the good spot behind the puppy's left ear. "You've been making yourself useful, I see. Good doggy! Best doggy!"

Sir Gareth sighed. "I shalt tell them." He looked around. "The young enchantress be subdued, and yon miscreant of lightning be waylaid as well. An none shall seek to halt me... I shall depart. Wouldst any speak otherwise...?"

"I wouldn't, but they might." Scorch Scale gestured behind himself with a thumb at the hole in the police station. Property damage was a thing after all.

"No, that's okay..." calls a police officer. "...We still haven't found where that girl hid our guns yet, so..."

Sir Gareth awkwardly slings his big sword over his shoulder, walks into a nearby alley, and is gone.

The lieutenant walks up to the powered colleagues. "You all okay...? Silver Streak? You looked like you took quite a shock, there..." He's kind of awkward too, probably because of knowing what he (and his fellow officers who were present) now knows about Silver Streak's identity... and perhaps he is thinking about the heroic act of self-sacrifice he saw the hero perform...

The Silver Streak barely hears the officer. Now that the immediate threat was over, his mind was starting to catch up with what happened inside the police station. He had been exposed. "I- I'll be all right," he tells himself as much as the Lieutenant. His helmet, usually a source of empowerment, felt stifling. He badly needed to get out of here. To clear his head, and maybe sleep for a week. Struggling to stay composed, he flashes Goodwill and Scorch Scale a brief salute and nod "You two really saved my hide - I appreciate it. Until next time." With a gust of wind, he was gone.

Scorch Scale looked to the police to say
"If you guys are serious on cooperation, maybe get some spares on the talk boxes. No, what are they, pixie messengers? No, radio, that's it! Get those."

Then he focused on the other supers left. "You did good work Goodwill, Scraps, brilliant saving all round. Thanks."

Scorch Scale was part way leaving when he turned his head back to add, "That attitude, before. Others getting hurt because of me doesn't sit right. You know? But hey, could always be pride. But, I'll see you around." With that he went around the corner Silver Streak used. Then he too left, left to wonder how was he going to survive keeping up that premise to the Order of St George? If they believed him anyway. That was a question for another time.

"Not a problem, man," Goodwill said to the dragon-fella. "You use power to help folks, and that's all I need to know. Maybe I'll even see you around.

"C'mon, Scraps. Let's go say 'hi' to some folks."

He started over towards the bystanders, who were, well... standing by.

"Hey there, everybody. That was quite the kerfuffle now, wasn't it? Makes me feel like I might'a come to the right town, now."

It wasn't a minute before he was shaking hands and signing autographs. This always gave Gil a rush, being among fans. And before long, 'Goodwill' would be a common household name around New York, and then he'd have plenty of fans.

Scraps, ever Goodwill’s sidekick and companion, bounded around as Gil signed autographs, kissed hands and shook babies.
He adored the public’s attention as much as Goodwill did.