DragonRage

Alan attempts to hook up to the local internet. He immediately runs into problems. The OS used by pretty much everything he can connect with is orders of magnitude more advanced than expected from the 2000s United States, and doesn't seem to share much if any software architecture with the Apple and Microsoft-based programs he's used to. It's going to take a fair bit of work for him to code an interface program that won't get him nailed as a virus, or tell every government agency even vaguely paying attention exactly where he is and what's on his deck. Freya, meanwhile, steps out onto the street and (strength check 5 v 18 do you even lift bro?) is immediately swept up among the moving crowd with a squeak of surprise. Freya is forced to begin moving left, engulfed by the swarm of costumed nerds, towards the JC Penny's and the Marvel Bookstand. -------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well, for one thing, this girl's emotions are coming from her gun, rather than her body. That's a pretty big flag that you aren't from around here," Danielle observes, "What did you say your name was again? Also, is that a real gun? That could be a problem. New York City has pretty strict gun laws, especially for places that are packed with people, and especially machine guns. Uh, just keep the safety on and pretend it's a prop? If you can't make it disappear in such a way that the metal detectors won't find it, uh, we'll figure something out? They, er, don't exactly cover smuggling very large and dangerous guns through a crowded convention in class. I think we're usually supposed to stop people who try that."

A letter arrives on the bus: “Dear Dimensional Troubleshooters, An mutual acquaintance of ours has suggested you might be able to deal with a little spot of trouble that’s come up in my home universe. You see, an amateur necromancer has gotten himself some actual magic. It’s not a big problem as of yet, but if left unattended it could become so. Unfortunately, I find myself occupied dealing with an incursion by the Dread Dormammu and his Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth. I hear you have a specialist in such matters? Any assistance you might render would be greatly appreciated. I have it on good authority he will be attending the horror convention Necronomicomicon this year in New York City, and I have arranged with our mutual friend, Doctor Ebon, for some reinforcements to arrive at about the same time as you. The amulet enclosed should teleport you to the outskirts of the convention area, in a relatively low profile place. Yours, Doctor Stephan Strange, Sorcerer Supreme of Earth 42” Freya, of course, leaps onto the chance to help sway a novice necromancer from the path of evil. Aquila tags along to protect Freya, and possibly to smack some zombies around if it comes to that. Alan… Well, it’s been a while since he attended a con, and there should be plenty of chances to stock up on electronics in a modern city. The three get dropped into what Alan comfortably recognizes as a city alleyway along with his van, presumably in the Big Apple. A mix of people dressed in casual, modern clothes and people in elaborate costumes throng the streets, which are free of cars. A lot of people are dressed as some kind of undead creature or other horrifying monster, and a fair number more as other sorts of fantastical or medieval folk. However, thanks to Freya’s knowledge, it’s not hard to tell that there aren’t any actual undead out there. And as outlandish as the group appears, even with Alan’s drones, the group will fit right in, though the Sectopod and van might be a bit much. On the street outside, there’s a wide variety of stores, the highlights of which are a JC Penny’s, a Radioshack, an Apple Store, a Dick’s Sporting Goods, an Official Marvel Comics Bookstand, and the entrance to an expansive-looking mall. Over the mall entrance, a banner is hung, letters painted to be dripping green ooze: “Welcome to NECRONOMICOMICON!” ---------------------------------------------------------------- Thunderlord and Scout find themselves in a different alley on the same street, having each been given a copy of a somewhat different letter. “Dear Thunderlord/Scout Skipper, You may not have heard of me, but I’ve heard very good things about you. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme of this universe, and I have been placed in a very difficult situation. You see, there is a novice sorcerer in this area, and he will get up to some rather irreversible mischief to himself and others unless he is dealt with. And I cannot deal with it myself, as the Dread Dormammu is attempting to breach this plane, and while I might be a master of the mystic arts, I haven’t figured out how to be in two places at once yet. I apologize for the rude method of conveyance, but time is of the essence and I don’t believe you would refuse. You aren’t alone here; I have arranged for some allies to arrive at about the same time as yourself. Look for a witch, an armored knight, and a man in a clown mask. Sincerely, and with apologies, Doctor Stephan Strange, Sorcerer Supreme of Earth 42” As the pair finishes reading, a young woman peeks down the alley. She’s tall and slender, of Native American descent, with dark hair, dark eyes, and well-tanned skin. She’s wearing weathered blue jeans, a T-shirt of the classic Creature from the Black Lagoon movie poster, and a belt with a chunky buckle displaying an X inside of a circle. A lanyard with a convention pass hangs around her neck, and a hawk feather sticks out of her hair, over her left ear. “Hello in there? Pardon me for saying it, but you two seem lost. A bit out of place, even for a big, cosplay-heavy con like this one,” She steps into the alley and strides over to the pair, before continuing in a quieter voice, “I’ve seen dimensional travelers before, and you’ve both got the classic signs. Hey, you can trust me, I’m a superhero. Or I will be once I turn eighteen. Also an empath, so I know you won’t rat me out. Danielle Moonstar. Pleased to meet you.”

Zoe pockets her echo device, still grumbling at how she wasn't able to get anything good out of the walls. "I admit to having flown in more questionable scrap heaps than this one. Not by choice. Those of you who don't have a space suit should probably start hyperventillating now in case something goes pop and you need to hold your breath. Remember to breathe out if it comes to that. The air's coming out either way, but your lungs will rupture slower if you do it that way." Zoe checks the seals on her powered armor to see if the emergency anti-void/gas systems are still working. In theory, it can provide half an hour of oxygen, heat, and pressure for emergencies, but the suit's taken quite a beating since the last time she had a chance to work on it.

Still humming that song under her breath, Danielle is going to check the supply closet. There could be something useful in there.

After consulting a map and the locals, Nuparu and Halhi lead the group toward the deserts of Po-Wahi. The Motara Desert is a week away on foot, but Nuparu is able to shave three days off the journey by taking the party underground most of the way in a hired Ussal cart, pulled by a pair of huge and enthusiastically friendly biomechanical crabs. They also collect numerous water jugs and insist that everyone take as many as they can easily carry. Even for beings of Bionicle, deserts can be dangerous. Soon, the group emerges onto the burning sands of the Motara Desert, and Nuparu points to a distant structure, shimmering in the heat haze. "There it is, the ruin of Kuma-Nuana. The Rock Stone should be inside. I hope. Tread lightly. These sorts of ruins aren't always safe, and I wouldn't put it past Turaga Onewa to have set booby traps to catch The Makuta's agents off guard. We'll have to see what the first one is and then figure out how to proceed." "It's a hole," Halhi comments succinctly, as the party stands in the doorway to the ruin several hot and sticky hours later, "A really deep hole. I don't feel like throwing our lightstone down there to see how deep. We might not be able to get it back out again. Well, the hallway continues on the other side, so we've got to get across somehow. But I don't think we can jump that."

Cursing her lack of a more powerful healing spell, and resolved to research one at the earliest possible opportunity, Lexiel summons another Soul Warden to block for her (12/12 HP, attack/counterattack for 5 damage, heals 5 HP to all allies and summons including Lexiel and itself whenever it or another being enters the encounter.).

"I would comment on the rudeness of such a description... But it is not as inaccurate as I might wish," Alexandria muses, "Against our better judgement, yes, we have been recruited by Solomon and his acquaintances of dubious repute to deal with a megalomaniacal artificial intelligence ensconced inside the stock exchange. And since the stock exchange building is valuable, we're doing this the hard way. I just know I'm going to end up on land mine duty again. And there's no way to know when I'll next find a place to get my finish touched up..."

"Heh. Oh, I get it, you're not familiar with names in Galstaneng. Nah, I'm Zoe Walker. Short for Zoe Timewalker. Time does what I want. Sometimes. When it and I both feel like it," She shrugs, "Even my ego isn't oversized enough to let me say it's easy or safe to mess with time. Seriously, don't mess with time unless you're very well prepared to. "Kill/death ratio? Well, I've never died, because I'm still alive, and I lost track of how many people were dumb enough to try to kill me thousands of years ago, so... I don't know what my kill/death ratio is. This never bothered me before, but it is suddenly extremely concerning. How can I brag about it if I don't know it? "Kunai and shuriken you said? That's easy enough, in theory at least." Zoe is going to attempt to pull some metal from the walls and shape it into kunai and shuriken for Akihiro, since she doesn't need tools for metal-work. Magic is plenty. "Oh gods the Jacks are multiplying. Soon all will be Jacks! We've got to get some boxes for them! Quick!"

"Don't worry! Stick with me, kid! I'll be the Raphael to your Donatello. Except not really, because you're prettier than a turtle, and I'm way prettier than a turtle," Zoe offers the young ninja with what she presumably thinks is a reassuring tone. It's not. "I'm worth a hundred soldiers in a fight, so even if nobody else here's any good we can't lose! I'd be helpful if other people here were good though. Then I could take another crack at that Versitech DMCA... Your sweet secrets will belong to me! So swears ZOE WALKER, MERCENARY GODDESS-QUEEN OF AWESOMENESS!"

"Gods damn it I was three seconds away!" Zoe Walker screeches to nobody in particular, "I'm sure it wouldn't have exploded this time! 65% of 23% of a... What did you just call me? I'll bite your legs off and grind them into nutripaste! Maybe. Slag, it did explode, didn't it. That's why I'm here. I was so sure I'd gotten through the DMCA this time. Ah, well. If I'm still alive that just means I get to try again~"

Izumi Nakamura

Up on Iowa's bridge, unseen to those outside, her command crew reels in shock, splinters of wood and metal having scythed across her conning tower and reaping a grim harvest of men and equipment. Dazed, dizzy, a young lieutenant's stupor is penetrated by the sound of vigorous yelling from outside. Instincts fresh from West Point drag him to his feet before he even really knows what's going on, at which point he realizes that the ship has taken a hit directly to the tower. Without central control and fire control, she'll be helpless. And the enemy is not one they can afford to go easy on. Staggering towards the speaking tubes, he roughly shoves the concussed Captain out of the way and pops the covers off with a shaky hand. "Fire the main batteries!" He shouts into them, praying they've not been severed, "Fire everything! Now!" And even as Iowa herself staggers, falling to one knee under the force of the blow, eyes unfocused and arms hanging limp, her crew swings her main battery around with a slow, heavy finality. Breech-blocks are locked, charges and shot loaded with the help of what can only be described as the grace of God, and even with primary rangefinders offline, at these distances they could hardly miss. Iowa fires her 12 Inch Guns at the Judge, with AP loaded, dealing 4d8 + 10 damage. If at least 5 of this damage is prevented, the AP will arm, dealing an additional 5d8 damage that cannot be reduced. Either way, the target is afflicted by Concussion, reducing their damage output by 10 for 2 rounds. Iowa will bleed off speed at the end of this round, losing 2 initiative.

Absently, as we walk, Danielle starts humming a song quietly to herself. No words, just the tune... Danielle's song "We're a bit short on high tech solutions. Anyone have something reflective?" Danielle asks, somehow not missing a beat by talking. "We could open the door a crack, and then I could use that to look through. Since I don't have to touch something to hold it now because of my (sigh) sparkly unicorn telekinesis, name pending review, we wouldn't have to put any body parts into the line of fire."

Did somebody call for a TANK?

Lexiel summons a Wall of Denial to block for Michael Mot. The wall has 45/45 HP, and can only take damage from weapon attacks (natural weapons count). It's also immune to poison and bleeding. The wall doesn't counterattack, because it's a wall.

"I think you should stay outside with Halley and make sure nobody else gets shot," Alexandria suggests, "That way, at least our first impression will be slightly less terrible."

To Azgrurk and Harry To Lucine and Harry To Leo and Harry

To Freya To Azgrurk To Law To Aquila To Kusuke To Lucine To Nader To Alan To Calvera To Leo To Frigus: To Tim: To Toshiro Amelie, to Harry Vitor’s Checkup Results Amelie’s Checkup Results

Iowa uses Ahead Full again, to keep her Evasive Maneuvers up in the face of the incoming fire from Judge, as well as to pick up even more initiative. However, her taunt is on cooldown so she can't use it again this round.

Law: Proditor: Freya: Azgrurk: Vitor's Form: Amelie's Form:

"Seems simple enough, if not exactly easy," Alexandria agrees, "What's our next step? We can go out, walk a search pattern until we find the stock exchange, and storm the place, but I was under the impression that you hoped for us to be discreet."

"Yes, an excellent idea, Harry! Who knows what sort of foul xenos diseases and Nurgle-spawned plagues they might have picked up," Sister Rachel agrees, "Is there a medical bay aboard this transport? We should sterilize it and prepare for examinations. Thorough examinations."

Danielle considers her options for a moment, puts the poncho on, and suggests we go for the weapons first.

"Always read the whole contract before you sign, kid," Danielle snorts, "I only made that mistake once. Got off light, all they took was a kidney. So, illegal bioweapons that turn people into mindless killers. Lovely. Well, the longer we stay here, the better the odds that they'll track us down and swarm us. Let's get moving."

Danielle casts about the room, locates a pencil, and stares it down. After a few tense seconds, her horn lights up with bright pink sparkles, mirrored around the pencil, which slowly lifts off the ground. Danielle gives it a few swings around, tries again with a few other objects along for the ride, and manages to not lose control of any of them. "Of course it's pink again. Well, at least I've got something. Wasn't relishing trying to get through this without any way to defend myself aside from kicking and running."