Well, you think to yourself, whomever inherits my Exaltation next, assuming Lytek leaves these memories intact (which I doubt): be better than I am. Be a better king. Be a better man. Don't grow jaded in your power. Learn to find joy in the littlest things of life, for they are what it is truly made from. Do not neglect or abuse the mortals who depend upon you.

And, you consider as you decide upon the best way to make a clean severance, if you want to tell people the truth, you'd better make them laugh or they'll kill you. With that thought complete, you proceeded to dismantle your lover's affection with the precision of the surgeon you were.

It was easy. It was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It took three words.

"I pity you."

Those wonderful, beautiful eyes shot wide in betrayal and wrath, and your world ended in an instant of emerald annihilation.
Malfeas wasn't my first choice, but I'm okay with it when it comes with this level of writing. Great job. And some great advice from our predecessor.
 
Very nice past life glimpse, you established a scene and mood very well, and gave us an excellent glimpse of Ligier and the brass dancer, without spoiling too much about the past life himself, nicely done.

Actually, having seen the big shiny king of boogie in the ... well, not-flesh... and remembering snatches of lierally divine music we might see Taylor dance a bit now and again...

Am I wrong in thinking that sufficiently Malfean dancing could stick us with another stranger rating? just from entrancing people? or is that with one of his non-combat charms? (he can use dance as peaceful rest or something with it right?)
 
Superhumanly good dancing should be a Shaker effect like Glory Girl's Awe aura if used to just rouse emotions instead of mass seduce.
Reasons:
-Affects people in a wide area - Shaker
-Does not cause people to obey you automatically unless intended to - Potential Master, applicable only if used that way.
 
Huh, I was thinking stranger because it affected peoples emotion without carrying explicit orders... eh, would be fun to see anyway...

"New cape foils bank robbery, with Funk!"
 
Superhumanly good dancing should be a Shaker effect like Glory Girl's Awe aura if used to just rouse emotions instead of mass seduce.
Reasons:
-Affects people in a wide area - Shaker
-Does not cause people to obey you automatically unless intended to - Potential Master, applicable only if used that way.
Only obedience it compels is that they MUST WATCH a la Respect Commanding Attitude (if we spend 5m for that). On the other hand...dancing to make people feel something is UMI now. Um...period.

On the upside...if we decide to go rogue, there's a parahuman pop star who hasn't yet gotten in trouble that we'd make a bitchin' backup dancer for.

But yeah. tl;dr: it's the dance version of Canary's power, but without any ability to compel obedience.

Isidoros probably would be some very very mad max thing
Oh....my....God. I...that gives me an idea for an Omake. But I need to finish 2.1....dangit!

*grumbles about Mad Max escapades with Grampa Ferand*

EDIT: Oh! Almost forgot. That bit at the end? Where he convinced Ligier to kill and hate him, so Malfeas' fetich would move on?

That's something I'd consider a 3-die social stunt. (Just to give an example and encourage y'all to shoot for the moon. :3)
 
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Oh right, regarding her preferences...Ligier is on the bishie side of things.

Taylor:"But I like dudes built like a brick shithouse!"

*Cue Malfeas boogie down the street*
Fun fact: some guys manage bishie AND beefcake both.

Who has Strength and Dex and Appearance 10? Ligier, that's who.

What does UMI stand for?

Unnatural Mental Influence. Basically, magical persuasion whose effects cannot be ignored or argued with. It has to be fought down by sheer force of will. A force of will which people in Earth-Bet inherently lack.
 
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Fun fact: some guys manage bishie AND beefcake both.

Who has Strength and Dex and Appearance 10? Ligier, that's who.
*Regrets making a shitty joke*
Unnatural Mental Influence. Basically, magical persuasion whose effects cannot be ignored or argued with. It has to be fought down by sheer force of will. A force of will which people in Earth-Bet inherently lack.
Actually, not all UMI inherently bypass MDVs(most can be resisted), the big difference with UMI is that you can be compelled to do suicidal actions or go against your motivation, while NMI HAVE to break your will first.
 
*Regrets making a shitty joke*

Actually, not all UMI inherently bypass MDVs(most can be resisted), the big difference with UMI is that you can be compelled to do suicidal actions or go against your motivation, while NMI HAVE to break your will first.

It wasn't a shitty joke. It made me laugh. :p Just..yar.

Ahh. As to the second part...my bad. Well, the other difference is that they can be harder to just will yourself through. NMI never takes more than a single point of WP to ignore. And there's a cap of 2WP /scene spent to resist a certain NMI effect.
 
Ahh. As to the second part...my bad. Well, the other difference is that they can be harder to just will yourself through. NMI never takes more than a single point of WP to ignore. And there's a cap of 2WP /scene spent to resist a certain NMI effect.
Oh yes, natural influence can be completely ignored after they try twice and you resist with willpower twice(not 2 points, 2 times, you can get more than 2 points with very high threshold rolls after errata). Unnatural mental influence can hammer you forever until you break in one scene.
 
Ligier is a man's man. A true gentleman. And it could work wonders of wonders (or terrible terribleness) if Ligier finds out and likes (hates) it.

Could play up the lourve, and be all like 'it took a death and a reattachment of the third soul, but I'm totally yours. Forever.' And then Taylor dies at 150 and Ligier punches Uncle TED in the shadow nuts really hard, with ATOMIC GREEN HATE FIRE.
 
Emergence 2.1
Emergence 2.1
[X]See if you can't get Dad released and help him get back on his feet

-[X] Stunt: Threads of her new sense winds through the unconscious Danny, taking clinical inventory of his physical health, much as Taylor ignores the rather unnecessary and excessive elements it reports back. She knows, somehow, that he is physically better than fine, after Panacea's care, his body in near mint condition, down to the old broken bone he had once talked about, and the ache in his knee that he never said anything of. Just fatigue, stress and drugs to deal with both then. Good.



ooo

You awaken from the dream-turned nightmare with a shriek and a startled flailing motion. Losing your balance, you tumble out of your perch in the hospital lobby chair to land face-first on the cool tile of the hospital floor. Spluttering and blushing, you manage to right yourself, too busy trying to pull your thoughts together in the wake of the dream of your death to realize that the fall there probably should have hurt. Even as a detached part of your awareness ponders on why it wouldn't have, you take deep, slow breaths. You weren't hurt. You'd just had a bad dream. You were at the hospital. Dad was safe.

Dad was safe.

Dad!

With a start, you jumped to your feet, looking around for the nurse from the night before. You didn't see her anywhere. You frowned at that...then realized that it'd been who knew how many hours since you'd fallen asleep. Looking around, you saw bright, midday sunlight streaming in through the lobby windows. The lobby television was tuned (as such things always were) to one of the major news networks, and the time at the corner of the broadcast told you it was a few moments shy of noon, the day after you'd woken up in the storage unit.

Pushing yourself up to your feet and dusting off your suit, you looked around the lobby sheepishly, hoping that you hadn't drawn too much attention. Fortunately for you, it seemed to be a relatively quiet day today. Of course, a rational background thought offers up, that could also just be because the gangs are laying low in light of the fight and the increased police or PRT presence because of it. Disentangling yourself from the blanket someone had apparently draped over you last night, you fold it up, one part of your mind noting the fact that the talking heads on the lobby TV sets are discussing...well, you. Not sure you want to dwell on the surreal notion of the national news speculating on you, you push that train of thought back into the background, beside the one noting the sensations and position of a droning, aerial presence.



It appears one of your mental presences is...in the room with you? Flying about with prop-plane drone even as a tiny buzz tickles your ears. Wait. Buzz. Droning. Flying. Fly. Turning to the direction you sense the creature, you infallibly lay eyes on a fly which has taken up buzzing about in search of poorly swept up gift shop snack crumbs.

So that's what those were. I can sense...um...bugs. Frowning, you wonder if you can do more than just sense them. You try mentally commanding the creature to land on a nearby chair's armrest. Nothing happens. Shrugging, you try again, to see if there's a particular phrasing, or intent involved. Nothing changes. Huh. So I have the parahuman power to...sense bugs? Well that's...kinda useless. You try not to let it depress you. After all, if Uncertainty isn't dramatically overselling things, your other powers are insanely potent...though the dream-turned-nightmare suggests that might be a cause for concern in itself. Speaking of your mental companion, <Hey, Uncertainty? Any chance you'd be willing to explain a little more about what these Exaltation powers can do?>

You're answered by silence. Whatever Uncertainty is up to, it clearly doesn't include listening to you at the moment. You're not sure you like that notion. Still! You shake off the oddly offended feeling that thought provided. Things are looking up! You're going to be going to Arcadia. Or Immaculata...or to not-Winslow (that being the key component). You have superpowers. You're going to be a hero. Sure, the system's flawed in ways you'd never have imagined...but that's not as much of a surprise or blow as it would've been even two years ago. Systems get corrupted; they fail. But that doesn't mean they can't be fixed, be improved.

And you met superheroes! And you're pretty sure they want to be your friends...well, assuming they weren't skeeved out by you apparently hitting on them. That...could end up awkward. But, then, a friendship with an awkward beginning was an infinite improvement over the utter nothingness you had in that regard before...still weird to think you went into the locker nearly a week ago. It felt like yesterday.

Shaking your head to clear that train of thought, you let a distant part of your mind feel the outrage prompted by the internet having apparently decided to try and name you after some sort of madness-inducing, child-killing monster. Or the fact that, again, apparently your emergence's light display was visible for miles. You weren't sure what useful information you could actually glean from that...so you chose instead to file it alongside what it sounded like to be a literal fly on the wall: interesting on a curiosity level, but ultimately not useful in the immediate term.

Setting the blanket on the lobby desk and asking the duty receptionist to thank whomever gave it to you, you let them know you're already aware of where you're headed, that you're just here to visit your father. They nod, wave you past. Slipping down the hall, you're surprised that no one stops you at any point. You suppose there actually is something to that idea that you can do almost anything if you simply act like you are perfectly aware of your destination.

Slipping into Dad's room and shutting the door behind you, you see that he's still sleeping off the muscle relaxants he was on last night. You notice with some curiosity, a pair of notes sit on table set up at his bedside. Stepping over, you pick up the first of them. It's written in blue ink on white paper with a hand so meticulously efficient, you'd half suspect it was printed.

Miss Hebert,

Don't worry about your father's hospital costs. The injury was my fault, so the costs should be my responsibility. It's likely I'm going to be in Master/Stranger lockdown for the next three days. Once I'm out, I would like to speak with you ASAP. Please don't rush in to making any decisions just yet regarding your career. I don't intend to push you to a decision one way or another, but there are personal reasons why you may very well wish to have the leverage becoming a ward would permit you. I'm not at liberty to discuss the details--either of what sort of leverage or of to what purpose it would be used--and I will not be until or unless you make the decision to do so. That's as much as I'm able to tell you. I realize you don't have a lot in the way of reasons to trust me yet. Please give me a chance to prove my intentions to you before you decide to reject Wards membership out of hand. And again, whatever your decision, I am happy to give you what advice and assistance I can.

-Armsmaster
At the bottom of the note, two phone numbers are listed. One is clearly a public line...which you cannot believe actually translates out to 1-800-ARM-CALL. The other is apparently his private direct line. He cautions you not to attempt to contact him during the next three days, both for his sake and for yours.


The other note, is written in a hurried hand on a simple folded piece of paper with your name on the front.

Taylor,

It's flattering that someone as pretty as you would ask me out, but I'm really not looking for a relationship. I wouldn't mind a friend, though. You seem really nice, and it'd be nice to have people around who aren't just there because of Vicky. If you'd like to hang out or just talk some time, here's my number. I have no idea what friends usually do on that, since honestly I spend most of my time here or with Vicky. Still, a friend sounds nice.

-Amy Dallon
You stare at that one for another long moment, mentally groaning. She did think you were hitting on her! A small, wry part of your mind does note that technically this makes you four for four at getting superhero phone numbers last night. The degree of embarassing unhelpfulness present in that statement is enough to make you wonder what is going on that Uncertainty hasn't chimed in by now. Taking the notes, you slip over behind the privacy curtain again and let your suit-clad disguise dissipate. Once more standing nine-feet tall with flowing, vaporous hair, you try to call back up the feeling from last night, that desire to appear to be other than you are. This time, you don't concentrate on being someone else.

Instead, you focus on appearing to be yourself. Well, a version of yourself. Something more like your own age, to be sure. Prettier. Well, um, well and femininely proportioned like your guise from last night was. Maybe it was feeling nettled by hearing yourself all but called stickish on national television, but you had boobs now, damnit, and a nice butt, and you weren't giving those up just because you didn't have them last week. There...was even a reasonable explanation that occurred to you: you'd met Amy Dallon. After you were rescued from being kidnapped, it wasn't unreasonable that she might've been asked to check on your health. And people always said that folks who had seen Panacea came away feeling better than they had in years. Maybe in addition to fixing your eyesight, she came across where your growth had gotten stunted a ways back.

Damnit, you deserved this figure. And as far as anyone would be able to tell, it was really yours. And that was that.

<Okay. Now I know something's wrong. In all the time you've been up there, you've never gone this long without saying something to throw me off balance. What's going on, Uncertainty? Are you okay?>

<I...pardon. Forgive me. It may take me some time to come to terms with the memories you relived while sleeping. I had no idea I'd been hijacked by that Exaltation. It...changes some things. Others, not so much.>


Well that was certainly a response,
you mused. You had no idea what sort of response it might be, but it was certainly responding in some way to the wet nightmare you'd had last night. Damnit, yes, that totally ought to be a thing. It was sexy, but also horrifying.

Shaking your head and hoping Uncertainty could sense the concern you felt for it...which again struck you as odd. You were, by all accounts, possessed by a demon. And as it turned out, so far, you actually liked it better than most of people you knew. Shrugging, you made your way back out to the other side of the curtain, and set to testing the power you'd stumbled into last night, the touch-based one. You had a hunch that there was something else you could manage with it, but you weren't exactly sure what.

Closing your eyes, you reached. Not with your arms, but with that pool of power that had come into being some time after Uncertainty pulled you into the chrysalis. And suddenly your sense of touch expanded. If you paid attention to it, you could feel every surface in and around an area several yards from where you stood, as though thousands of phantom fingers traced over each surface. All you had to do was concentrate, something you were finding oddly easier ever since you'd woken up last night, and a whole realm of tactile perception opened up. More than that...your eyes widened as threads of your new sense wound through your sleeping father, taking clinical inventory of his physical health, even as you ignore the rather unnecessary and excessive elements it reports back. You know, somehow, that he is (physically) beyond fine. After Panacea's healing, his body is likely in better condition than it's been in for over a decade, down to the old broken leg he had once told you the story of, and the ache in his knee that he never said anything about, but always winced when it twinged on off days. Of any unpleasant medical circumstances, only fatigue, his emotional stress, and and the gradual wear-off of the muscle relaxant remained to deal with.

Good. That means I can probably get them to let him go home today.

ooo

It took several hours' waiting for your dad to finally sober up from the meds, then for a ride home for the both of you to be arranged. Eventually, however, it was all organized. Much to your surprise, the handful of reporters who'd been snooping around the hospital hoping to find a decent story related to the last few days' events didn't hound the two of you for more details, beyond your father's statement of tearful gratitude that he had his daughter back safe, and your nervous admission that you were happy to be headed home and that your dad was safe. You'd have expected them to stick around longer, but apparently the Protectorate had announced a press release for this afternoon, and most of them were being dispatched to cover that instead.

Moving your way up past the broken front step, you and your dad settle into the house. Though it's been quiet and awkward, as you both are wont to be, there's an atmosphere of quiet relief. Each of you had assumed, in your own way, that your world was ending for a time there, and you're both grateful to learn that it wasn't. Not really knowing what else to do, you offer to fix dinner for the pair of you, and so you end up fixing a stack of pancakes, bacon, and some eggs while your father noticeably says nothing about the empty to half-full liquor bottles that he is tossing out. For your part, you have no idea what to say to that, so you settle into a quasi-companionable quiet.

After dinner, Dad admits that he needs to make some phone calls, see if he still has a job or if he is going to have to go find more work on top of all of this. There's an air of desperation to how he admits that, and one of shame, that you feel utterly unprepared and unarmored against hearing from your parent. So you opt not to comment, and you get the impression that he's grateful you didn't.

Heading back up to your room, you feel an odd mix of relief and some anxiety. You're not tired enough to sleep yet, but you also aren't sure what precisely you should do. Eventually, you settle on practicing some of the less glow-intensive things you can do with your powers, like practicing with your new telekinesis. And with the odd hard-light constructs you discover you can manifest and move with your mental touch. At a whim, you try making a mask from the crystalline stuff, only to find a translucent facemask of lambent white floating before you. Grinning at how cool that manages to be, you allow the construct to dissipate before laying down to try and get some sleep.

<Good night, Uncertainty.>

<I...good night, Taylor.>

ooo

Vote for 2.1:

Order of activities for the morning:


[ ] Call Brandish
[ ] Continue with Experiments
[ ] Do your cape research

Think of it as a priority vote to determine activity order. Actions not already committed to may be added to the itinerary by write-in.

And in a trend surprising absolutely no one, I horribly underestimated how long what I originally thought of as 2.1 would be. By something like 2 to 3 updates' worth. XD

I'd say take a shot for the drinking game, but I'd rather not be responsible for alcohol poisoning...so...look at a picture of alcohol for every time I say 'this update got away from me'. Your liver will thank you.

ooo
+1 XP for the update.

Current XP: 3
 
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[1] Do your cape research
[2] Continue with Experiments
[3] Call Brandish

Know the local scene first. Our experiments and Brandish needs context, while some of the experiments will lead to anima flare. Best to make sure we know who we might tangle with.
Then figure out what we can do and then accidentally hit on Brandish.

<I...pardon. Forgive me. It may take me some time to come to terms with the memories you relived while sleeping. I had no idea I'd bene hijacked by that Exaltation. It...changes some things. Others, not so much.>
There is a typo.
Also heh, Ligier too sexy.
 
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Priority vote: [1] to [3] with one being the earliest action, and three being the last.
 
[1] Do your cape research
[2] Call Brandish
[3] Continue with Experiments

Let's deal with our current problems before we research future ones, yeah?

Edit: We're proper paranoid, gotta research our potential lawyer first.
 
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[1] Call Brandish <-- getting your life back on track is most important (no life = no point in research)
[2] Do your cape research <-- Know your enemy (yadayadayada....) so that you have a better standard to judge your experiments against)
[3] Continue with Experiments
 
Taylor,

It's flattering that someone as pretty as you would ask me out, but I'm really not looking for a relationship. I wouldn't mind a friend, though. You seem really nice, and it'd be nice to have people around who aren't just there because of Vicky. If you'd like to hang out or just talk some time, here's my number. I have no idea what friends usually do on that, since honestly I spend most of my time here or with Vicky. Still, a friend sounds nice.

-Amy Dallon
Misunderstandings aside, this is actually a good result for both us and Amy imo.

see if he still has a job or if he is going to have to go find more work on top of all of this. There's an air of desperation to how he admits that, and one of shame, that you feel utterly unprepared and unarmored against hearing from your parent. So you opt not to comment, and you get the impression that he's grateful you didn't.
I'd hope that the DWA is understanding enough.

Nice update.

magicdownunder's reasoning makes sense to me, so:
[1] Call Brandish
[2] Do your cape research
[3] Continue with Experiments
 
[1] Call Brandish
[2] Do your cape research
[3] Continue with Experiments
 
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