- Location
- Hampden Park
Thank you, corrected.
Both work, but I think I'll leave it as it is.
Thank you, corrected.
I think it's okay as it is. Oh, look, I actually said that at the time.
I like rereading these.
Thank you, corrected.
With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Twelve)
- Thread starter Mr Zoat
- Start date
- Status
I like rereading these.
Empiricist2
Let's play doctor!
- Location
- Baton Rouge
It's not? Unless the species you are speaking to flat out lacks body language, you lose a ton of information about who you are speaking to by not watching them.
I think direct comparisons between them will be largely meaningless, as they will have different overarching goals. The SI OLC aims for abstract goals such as order in the galaxy, understanding of the orange light, and other tasks. It's also set up in a way that no individual member is essential to the Corps to continue functioning, even at this early stage.
Grayven's OLC seems to essentially be another tool he uses to accomplish his personal goals. Unless he changes it, I don't think it would survive his leaving it, and Hinon is the only one able to make rings at all. It will likely largely be focused on making soldiers, with little focus on anything else at an institutional level. Individuals may pursue other goals.
As for practical differences, the Grayven Corps will probably be casting a wider recruitment net, and prioritize getting Lanterns in the field over thorough training. I'd expect a higher dropout rate, and higher rate of orange light instability. However, Grayven gets more Lanterns, more quickly, and he will have more combat ready Lantern available at any time than the SI OLC will have unless Grayven chooses not to expand. The downside of this is that individual Lanterns will be less adaptable to non-combat situations, and have worse theoretical knowledge of their rings than similar Lanterns in the SI OLC even if they are better at combat. Also, given the nature of how orange rings work, I doubt that Lanterns will care as much about conflicts that don't involve themselves, i.e. the Tamaranian recruits will be ill suited to fight in places away from Vega.
- Location
- U.S.
Ehh, maybe, but it's really more of a case of different objectives. Grayven wants an army which is his, Paul wants to enforce peace and such. Grayven would actually be worse off if he tried to follow Paul's methodology, because Paul willingly gave up potential command of his corps and worked to give them autonomy.
A smart person who wants to eat right now cooks his potatos.
A smart person who wants to avoid starving over the winter plants his potatoes.
An idiot who wants to eat right now plants his potatos.
An idiot who wants to avoid starving over the winter cooks his potatoes.
Empiricist2
Let's play doctor!
- Location
- Baton Rouge
Not necessarily. If he expects a high mortality rate, it doesn't make too much sense to spend a long time training a rookie if it doesn't make a corresponding increase in their survival chances or combat effectiveness. In the long run, I would expect Grayven's method to produce more soldiers, and more total veteran Lanterns compared to the SI's method. But they would be soldiers, and generally worse both in skill and temperament at doing things like rebuilding societies or healing others. It's not necessarily a bad thing given Grayven's purposes, and it is superior in some ways to the SI's current method. Honestly, for the task of fighting the Reach, Grayven's method is better. It will just result in more deaths.
Also, Grayven isn't dumb, and I doubt he will overspecialize his corps for combat. But he probably won't think of a medical officer for his first few batches of Lanterns.
(Wanted to include above, but the previous post was long enough already: Grayven has more Lanterns currently, but his lack of diplomacy means that he doesn't have the same infrastructure behind him that the SI does in the form of the Controllers. The ability to make mostly mundane if advanced ships en mass is rather useful.)
- Location
- texas
Well I presume he would have managed it, but Kyle beat him up again instead.
I figure it takes real effort to be the black sheep of that family when your siblings are a shaved gorilla, the guy who ran away to the circus, and the guy foretold to committ patricide.
And to be fair, I just looked up that issue, and he did start off by conquering the New York City comedy scene by blowing up every other comedy club so the one he took over was the only one in town! Surely Darkseid will be proud of him now!
EDIT: Also, I kid you not, this is the incident responsible for Kyle Rayner becoming the host of Ion. Really.
EDIT 2: Oh god apparently comic Grayven's biggest desire at one point? Zeta beams, so he can have his forces invade Apokalypse. Dude, you're a New God, and your desire is to get some Zeta Beams when you could just use some Boom Tubes? Or is Grayven so down the trust scale on Apokalypse his dad doesn't trust him with the keys to the space car? (When you know, people like Virmin Vunderbar get to show up on Earth whenever they want.)
EDIT 3: He has also inherited the Omega Effect from his father. In the comic, it basically lightly damages Kyle. Welp, there's a significant nerf.
EDIT 4 (sorry, I'm on a roll): I mean, let's analyze the fact he got hit with Joker toxin in the first place to make him insane for the issue in the first place! This means he's so vulnerable compared to his father he's vulnerable to Batman villain-tier poisons! God only knows how the Joker found him in the first place to expose him to it...
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I don't think that Grayven is focused on fighting the Reach, actually. He's building a Vega-based empire, not a Maltus-centered OLC.
- Location
- texas
Zoat made up the healing factor, New Gods have been disfigured, crippled, blinded, made comatose, made into cyborgs, and roboticized. Well okay there are undoubtedly New Gods with a healing factor, but in DC there are humans with healing factors too.
There is a future Darkseid who petrified in LoS. Yes age reduced Darkseid to a pet rock with a bad attitude.
So a New God getting drugged is par for the course.
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Empiricist2
Let's play doctor!
- Location
- Baton Rouge
Correct, he's not. I guess I didn't make it clear, but I was saying that the SI would be better served by recruiting a lot of people even if they aren't perfect and rushing them through training so that he can start an effective campaign against the Reach now. Not as a long term policy, but for the short term it could work to get a core of fighters so that the SI doesn't have to do everything himself. The major downsides would be the increased instability and possibly casualty rate.
In the long term, for the SI's goals, his current method works, but it isn't a quick process.
I mean, I know not all of them are that tough (they aren't in this fic either, Renegade!Grayven just has his New God perks put in the toughness and strength trees), but Darkseid at least tends to be tough enough to throw down with Superman on a regular basis, and this is his son.
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- Location
- U.S.
Also it's worth noting that DC is notoriously inconsistent, so if you look hard enough you'll probably find a character being hilariously weak at some point.
Need I remind you all of the time the most powerful weapon in the entire universe was defeated by banana pudding?
Need I remind you all of the time the most powerful weapon in the entire universe was defeated by banana pudding?
- Location
- texas
Yes, New Gods have invulnerability as a racial trait. It is not uniform though. New Gods are invulnerable to blunt force trauma, but like Wonder Woman and her fellow Amazons, it doesn't even extend to cutting or piercing damage.
The average New God is not bullet proof, knife proof, arrow proof, pointy rock proof, or sharpened pencil proof.
If the idea of someone who can tank a hit from Superman having to worry about a pencil to the eye makes no sense to you, you are probably not alone.
The overseers of Apokalips whip the lowlies to keep them in line, for crying out loud.
Zoat might have upped their invulnerability a bit here, but he has indicated that the Forever People aren't bullet proof.
That being said, there are New Gods with individual powers, so an individual New God could very well be bullet proof, it just isn't the norm.
Renegade was bullet proof before his New God apotheosis, and just got harder to hurt from there.
Maybe he wanted them for the Outside of Context factor? I mean, Boom Tubes are the teleportation method that everyone back home is used to, so pulling out a different one might have let him pull off shit he normally wouldn't.
Now, while I am loathed to defend Batman villains(and to an extent, Batman himself) playing in the big leagues, Joker Venom is generally portrayed as being able to affect pretty much everyone regardless of what they are and can do. It's affected Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, and Aquaman, some how the fucking Eradicator, and numerous others.
It's less that comic Grayven is a chump and more that he just got cock slapped by Joker(and therefore Batman) Wank.
ThrawnCA
Carbon-based biped
- Location
- Australia
zhat before zhe
Might be correct, but did you intend "what I am meant to be"?
Uncorporation
zhis zhought [/quote]
concentration on
he had assumed
the craft's
Director doesn't smile
has rather put
just thought
he can fly
bigger problem than
hangar
roll to a halt
years' experience
chauffeur
(Occurs multiple times)
Turns out "chauffer" actually is a word, but it means something completely different.
there one we travelled here in
a simple automaton
obsession with minutiae
This seems... disturbingly relevant.
These are
with her right
going to be smitten
Dubbilex
no one of its members is
Genomorphs
GhostKing 666
Bringing Nightmares to life evey minute
Comic Grayven was an unacknowledged bastard, he didn't have any Apokalypse tech, he wasn't even raised on Apokalypse(and not by Darkseid either). His ultimate goal was to conquer enough of the galaxy and gain enough resources and technology to actually invade and conquer Apokalypse, taking what he saw as his birthright(as Darkseid's son) by force. And the mass teleportation provided by comic Zeta Beams would have been a great help in that, if by nothing else then by equalizing Grayven's forces with those of Apokalypse.
ThrawnCA
Carbon-based biped
- Location
- Australia
in Gaea's Grove
This is more commonly "rocks fall everyone dies"
went downhill
dependent upon
did you choose me
arm's reach
she removes the cap
kind of a
each other's
to use
firsthand
the right licence
Matthew smiles
breaks up a little
Matthew turns
Matthew's brother
capable of inflicting
as she makes
but it looks like
It was thrown by a speedster. I believe it counts as banana pudding that had...sufficient velocity.
That might be so, but Controllers did discuss the possibility of altering arcane constructs of lanterns (ie replacing their souls with orange light constructs like Paul has) to improve compatibility with orange light. It was discarded due to issues of how it wouldn't work on low thaumic worlds, but the Lord-of-X transformation rituals might still be viable paths. And in general arcane knowledge would be useful - at the very least scry wards (the soul based ones) should probably be incorporated / offered to the corps members or darkstars.
Would be really funny if Grayven-16b had been doing his best to outrun his family name and is just pleased as punch to meet an imposter to fob it off on,
- Location
- Earth, 3rd rock from the Sun
He is still a Paul SI. Having them trained a soldier first, and making purple ray healing drones (which don't need any knowledge of whatever they are healing) and advanced medkits part of the standard subspace loadout is a defensible policy. For healing others I mean. By all accounts the self-healing Wholeness Rightly Assumed is low-hanging instinctual use of the Orange Light.
ThrawnCA
Carbon-based biped
- Location
- Australia
investigation."
convinced of
casual clothing
August General in Iron or August Captain in Iron
years' hard labour
out of practice
set you up with
people's minds
she isn't worried
This would only be possible if Grayven were hugging Lynne from behind, which doesn't seem to fit the situation.
If I'm reading this right, since the proposal would have her celebrating her birthday in June instead of April, that would be moving it backwards, not forwards.
deference to
"I'm
prison's speakers
- Location
- Hampden Park
I refer you to Secret Six, in which Knockout regenerates full body third degree burns in about a day.
I had to come up with distinct things that define New Gods and show them working differently to metahumans. Exalted type healing seemed to fit.
No such thing as 'invulnerable', but if there were there wouldn't be different degrees of it. You'd either be invulnerable or you wouldn't.
Proof against small calibre bullets across most of his body, yes. A shot to the eye would still have blinded if not killed him.
Authority (part 15)
- Location
- Hampden Park
22nd August
14:36 GMT
The crew chief looks at us uncomfortably as the unarmed shuttle lands gently on the landing platform of the Qwardian surface city. Having had a chance to read up on the local documentation I have to say that it isn't really a Qwardian Qwardian city. The locals don't live here-.
Ah, sorry, I should say 'a Q'ardajin city'. Humans' name for our species means 'thinking man'. Their name for their species means something like 'people who guide destruction'.
At least we've confirmed that the Anti-Monitor is no longer in residence. That's not a fight I'm anything like ready for.
"Okay." The crew chief is Prisathian, from a world that's been a Qwardian tributary for so long that their history makes no mention of them ever being anything else. They're a pseudo-amphibian species that have actually benefited from Qwardian society's recent opening of its markets; people want Qwardian weapons but would much rather not go to Murderworld themselves. "I don't know who you are or why you wanted to come here. And I don't intend to find out." I nod as I pass him the case of rhodium coins that represent the balance of our payment. It's unlikely that he'll betray us now that we're here; the Q'ardajin would consider him fatally culpable at this point and he knows that if we're here to start trouble we either don't mind dying or are very well equipped. "Wait until we're gone before doing whatever you came here to do. Oh, and on the off-chance that you're really just here to buy weapons, my corporation is happy to handle shipping for all Council of Commanders approved contracts."
He hands me a business card, and I slip it into my suit. "Thank you. Should we require shipping, yours is the first name we will enquire after."
He flaps his gill slits nervously, then pulls the lever which operates the door. "Enjoy your stay…"
Guy stomps forward first, clanking across the gantry towards the reception centre in 'local veteran mercenary' armour. The Q'ardajin don't much care who comes and goes from places like this, so while they probably have scanners capable of detecting residual power ring energy they haven't bothered deploying them here. Conventional security isn't all that tight, either. Everyone who comes here knows what will happen to them and everyone around them if their behaviour arouses the ire of their hosts, and the Q'ardajin don't feel the need for import/export controls. There are a couple of the flying robotic heads that serve as security monitor drones in the upper parts of the large chamber we're entering, and a small cluster of the drug-stupefied slave-clones that form the first line of expendable soldiery in the event of actual problems. Biologically they're basically Q'ardajin, but have longer arms and a much more developed musculature as well as ape-like facial proportions.
It's interesting. A lot of places like this wouldn't want their mutants to be on display like this. They'd think it made their species seem fallible and less intimidating. But the Q'ardajin genuinely don't care what others think of them, rather than not caring for their approval. These poor unfortunates work as intimidating engines of destruction, so they put them to work.
A robohead painted in pale green floats down towards us from an alcove in the ceiling. "Identify yourselves."
"I'm Ernie Ernest. These 're my friends Joseph Jones-" He holds out his right hand in my direction. "-and Donovan Wallace. Joe an' me are from Earth, Don's from Uranus."
"State your business on Qward."
"Takin' in the bazaars, buying some samples. Maybe see about taking part in some pit fights." He shrugs. "See how it goes."
"Noted. Excellent odds are currently being offered against alien mercenaries prepared to take on Thunderers, while shorter but still profitable odds are offered on mercenary teams taking on exotic competitors such as Qward-built combat robots and cyborg-slaughterhounds."
"I was really thinking something a little more survivable, heh. Q'ardajin.. ain't exactly people I'd want t' pick a fight with."
"House policy states that what happens in the pits stays in the pits. However, lesser gladiatorial pits are available if you wish to test yourselves." There's a small flash from its mouth as it fabricates a holoprojector, which it ejects in Guy's direction. He catches it, then turns it on for a second. "This contains a map suggesting local locations which may prove to be of interest to you. Have a profitable trip."
"Yeah. Thanks." The head has already started floating back up to its recharging alcove. "Bet cha' Hal didn't get those."
He leads the way out of the reception centre airlocks and out onto the street. Qward's outer surface has an atmosphere, but it's thin and not exactly fresh-smelling. With our rings warded and placed in dimensionally displaced pockets to avoid detection we're relying on facemasks to provide us with readily breathable air. They also allow us to mask our communication from external monitoring.
"Robot greeters don't exactly shout 'galactic menace', do they?"
Ragnar looks around, staring combatively at anyone who looks like they might be able to provide a decent challenge. "I will be severely disappointed if this is the limit of their people's capacity for combat."
"Trust me, it isn't."
"Actually…"
"What?"
"You get a look at the sensor panel when we were comin' in?"
"Yes?"
"Lot fewer ships than I was expectin'. Might even be we coulda flown through it." He tilts his head to the side. "Wouldna' been easy, but…"
"Is that new? I always got the impression they were supposed to be a major menace."
"What, you didn't get that off'f John's ring?"
"No. I assume that it was highly classified, need to know only. Now, if I'd have pinched Jordan's ring…"
"Anyway, somethin' screwy's goin' on. I think we should have an actual look around, not just head for the shaft."
"Okay. Anywhere in particular?"
"Bars 're usually pretty good places t' start somethin' like that."
I wince. "Last time I walked into a bar like that everyone fled and I got attacked by a squad of Thanagarian mercenaries."
He raises his eyebrows slightly. "Really?"
I nod. "We talked it out, but it wasn't-."
"No, I jus' can't see you walkin' int' a bar." He smirks. "But did j'a learn anythin'?"
"Yes, actually. Alright, it's a reasonable place to start." I half-turn. "Rag… Nar?"
Who isn't there. Oh… Shazbot.
Guy snorts. "Lose the rookie already?"
"Yes, yes I have." Take a risk on empathic vision… There he goes. Running around somewhere like this is probably not a good idea. "Okay, which bar are you going to be in?"
He slaps my chest with the back of his right hand. "Don't be dumb, Paul. We ain't splittin' up. You get after him, I'll watch yer back."
"Right."
Doing my best to look like a confident and well armed weapons merchant, I set off through the city.
14:36 GMT
The crew chief looks at us uncomfortably as the unarmed shuttle lands gently on the landing platform of the Qwardian surface city. Having had a chance to read up on the local documentation I have to say that it isn't really a Qwardian Qwardian city. The locals don't live here-.
Ah, sorry, I should say 'a Q'ardajin city'. Humans' name for our species means 'thinking man'. Their name for their species means something like 'people who guide destruction'.
At least we've confirmed that the Anti-Monitor is no longer in residence. That's not a fight I'm anything like ready for.
"Okay." The crew chief is Prisathian, from a world that's been a Qwardian tributary for so long that their history makes no mention of them ever being anything else. They're a pseudo-amphibian species that have actually benefited from Qwardian society's recent opening of its markets; people want Qwardian weapons but would much rather not go to Murderworld themselves. "I don't know who you are or why you wanted to come here. And I don't intend to find out." I nod as I pass him the case of rhodium coins that represent the balance of our payment. It's unlikely that he'll betray us now that we're here; the Q'ardajin would consider him fatally culpable at this point and he knows that if we're here to start trouble we either don't mind dying or are very well equipped. "Wait until we're gone before doing whatever you came here to do. Oh, and on the off-chance that you're really just here to buy weapons, my corporation is happy to handle shipping for all Council of Commanders approved contracts."
He hands me a business card, and I slip it into my suit. "Thank you. Should we require shipping, yours is the first name we will enquire after."
He flaps his gill slits nervously, then pulls the lever which operates the door. "Enjoy your stay…"
Guy stomps forward first, clanking across the gantry towards the reception centre in 'local veteran mercenary' armour. The Q'ardajin don't much care who comes and goes from places like this, so while they probably have scanners capable of detecting residual power ring energy they haven't bothered deploying them here. Conventional security isn't all that tight, either. Everyone who comes here knows what will happen to them and everyone around them if their behaviour arouses the ire of their hosts, and the Q'ardajin don't feel the need for import/export controls. There are a couple of the flying robotic heads that serve as security monitor drones in the upper parts of the large chamber we're entering, and a small cluster of the drug-stupefied slave-clones that form the first line of expendable soldiery in the event of actual problems. Biologically they're basically Q'ardajin, but have longer arms and a much more developed musculature as well as ape-like facial proportions.
It's interesting. A lot of places like this wouldn't want their mutants to be on display like this. They'd think it made their species seem fallible and less intimidating. But the Q'ardajin genuinely don't care what others think of them, rather than not caring for their approval. These poor unfortunates work as intimidating engines of destruction, so they put them to work.
A robohead painted in pale green floats down towards us from an alcove in the ceiling. "Identify yourselves."
"I'm Ernie Ernest. These 're my friends Joseph Jones-" He holds out his right hand in my direction. "-and Donovan Wallace. Joe an' me are from Earth, Don's from Uranus."
"State your business on Qward."
"Takin' in the bazaars, buying some samples. Maybe see about taking part in some pit fights." He shrugs. "See how it goes."
"Noted. Excellent odds are currently being offered against alien mercenaries prepared to take on Thunderers, while shorter but still profitable odds are offered on mercenary teams taking on exotic competitors such as Qward-built combat robots and cyborg-slaughterhounds."
"I was really thinking something a little more survivable, heh. Q'ardajin.. ain't exactly people I'd want t' pick a fight with."
"House policy states that what happens in the pits stays in the pits. However, lesser gladiatorial pits are available if you wish to test yourselves." There's a small flash from its mouth as it fabricates a holoprojector, which it ejects in Guy's direction. He catches it, then turns it on for a second. "This contains a map suggesting local locations which may prove to be of interest to you. Have a profitable trip."
"Yeah. Thanks." The head has already started floating back up to its recharging alcove. "Bet cha' Hal didn't get those."
He leads the way out of the reception centre airlocks and out onto the street. Qward's outer surface has an atmosphere, but it's thin and not exactly fresh-smelling. With our rings warded and placed in dimensionally displaced pockets to avoid detection we're relying on facemasks to provide us with readily breathable air. They also allow us to mask our communication from external monitoring.
"Robot greeters don't exactly shout 'galactic menace', do they?"
Ragnar looks around, staring combatively at anyone who looks like they might be able to provide a decent challenge. "I will be severely disappointed if this is the limit of their people's capacity for combat."
"Trust me, it isn't."
"Actually…"
"What?"
"You get a look at the sensor panel when we were comin' in?"
"Yes?"
"Lot fewer ships than I was expectin'. Might even be we coulda flown through it." He tilts his head to the side. "Wouldna' been easy, but…"
"Is that new? I always got the impression they were supposed to be a major menace."
"What, you didn't get that off'f John's ring?"
"No. I assume that it was highly classified, need to know only. Now, if I'd have pinched Jordan's ring…"
"Anyway, somethin' screwy's goin' on. I think we should have an actual look around, not just head for the shaft."
"Okay. Anywhere in particular?"
"Bars 're usually pretty good places t' start somethin' like that."
I wince. "Last time I walked into a bar like that everyone fled and I got attacked by a squad of Thanagarian mercenaries."
He raises his eyebrows slightly. "Really?"
I nod. "We talked it out, but it wasn't-."
"No, I jus' can't see you walkin' int' a bar." He smirks. "But did j'a learn anythin'?"
"Yes, actually. Alright, it's a reasonable place to start." I half-turn. "Rag… Nar?"
Who isn't there. Oh… Shazbot.
Guy snorts. "Lose the rookie already?"
"Yes, yes I have." Take a risk on empathic vision… There he goes. Running around somewhere like this is probably not a good idea. "Okay, which bar are you going to be in?"
He slaps my chest with the back of his right hand. "Don't be dumb, Paul. We ain't splittin' up. You get after him, I'll watch yer back."
"Right."
Doing my best to look like a confident and well armed weapons merchant, I set off through the city.
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- Status