Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
[Insert snide comment about "how that is obviously false because Tia is leaving out 4e's spells" here]
-
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Scaling Up
- Thread starter Kryslin
- Start date
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
I prefer AD&D 2nd edit to 3.5. Pathfinder 1e is good, but AD&D 2e is my preferred system. Locally though nobody plays it anymore.
- Location
- Missouri
How the hell did I miss that?
But, still, AA missiles are a dex save attack since they explode on proximity, so disadvantage doesn't matter. That just means damage resistance.
EDIT: Oh, wait. Just noticed the header of that page. I didn't notice it because it's a 3rd party splat, not official material. So, I was right the first time. It doesn't exist.
- Location
- Beyond the Unknowable Veil
- Location
- Neptune
Depends on its trajectory.Does ballistic manure count as a normal projectile?
Ridli Scott
(Verified acid sweater mutant)
- Location
- The Periphery
Oh yes, because fourth ed is superior to... um, give me a minute, I'll think of something... um.. er. AH! It's better than F.A.T.A.L.
Of course, so was the Indiana Jones RPG, so that's not saying much.
Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
Eah. It's still my favorite edition of DnD. I get it, no one else likes it. But I do, and I wish more people did. But, since I really don't care to get into an edition war here, all I will say on the matter is that I believe it did several things very nicely and that 5th should have pulled more from it than it did. And I will also acknowledge that it was severely lacking in easy-to-use non-combat mechanics, though they did try to fix that towards the end.
It is, to be fair, a decent system. But.. it tried to make a pen and paper RPG with a long history computer compatible, which seriously pissed off the old school gamers.
Had they marketed it as a new RPG system, it might have found better ground in the younger people that haven't played D&D for twenty years.
I mean, to be honest, I bought the three classic books when it first came out. I've never opened the monster manual or the DMG. I opened the player's handbook, saw that multiclassing wasn't allowed any more and shut it again.
I don't think I've played a single class character in fifteen years simply because no single class can do everything I think an adventurer should be able to do.
- Location
- Earth Prime
My issue with 4e was entirely in the same-ness of all the classes. They all use the same subsystem, which was adapted from the Martial Adept subsystem of 3.5. That's a great subsystem, don't get me wrong! ...for Martial Adepts. Not so great for rogues, spellcasters, psychics, and heaven forbid the more esoteric things late 3.5 came out with like Binders and Incarnum. The change from saves to a list of "defenses" was actually pretty clever. But they lost all feel of "D&D" by making the classes...not feel like distinct classes with distinct abilities and means.
Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
It is allowed. Its just done differently. Instead of taking class levels in a second class, you use a feat that gives you some of the second class's features and other feats to use their powers. Though, from my understanding, as i never made one myself, a hybrid class character is probably more "multiclass-like". Those work by basically blending two classes.
Though in my own experience, most of the reasons to multiclass in 3.5 aren't present in 4e as the classes themselves are more flexible in what they can do.
I mean, i can kinda see it, but i honestly really like the powers system and how the design makes it so no one gets more power faster than anyone else. I've played too many useless fighters in 3.5 to not want a more uniform progression.
Last edited:
- Location
- Neptune
Not really. It's a kind of trajectoy but it does not discern between a simple drop in the field and and explosive diarrhea.
- Location
- Here
Updates are on Saturdays, not Fridays.
Lycanthromancer
The Arcane Fuzz
- Location
- USA
I've been having this problem a lot.Ah.
Stupid quarantine, all the days just blend together.
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
My monotony has been broken up by rude reality; Last Saturday, my neighbor across the road flipped his lawn tractor, end for end (back over front) in the ditch. Still trying to figure out how it happened. Because farms are a 24/7 business, Iowa and OSHA required an autopsy for an accident at work. Anyway, the resulting impact snapped his neck, killing him instantly. I've been told the the entire front of his face was smashed flat. He wasn't found for 2 hours at the least, so it's a good thing he was instantly killed and didn't suffer.
So, I know tomorrow's Saturday, because that's when his funeral is. That makes today Friday.
So, I know tomorrow's Saturday, because that's when his funeral is. That makes today Friday.
- Location
- Earth Prime
My sincere condolences to you and to your neighbor's family.
Lycanthromancer
The Arcane Fuzz
- Location
- USA
If your fighter is useless in 3.5, you built him/her wrong. You can built a one hit killer,if you go the big weapon way, or you can go the death of a thousand cuts. It is possible to build a two weapon fighter that can launch a full attack, nine attacks on a target, take a five foot step and do it again and again, as long as there is a target within a five foot step.
Fighter, Tempest, Dervish, I think. It's been a few years since I built that one. Might have been a Kingdoms of Kalamar build, even.
One hit killers are even easier. Exotic weapons pro, great sword, exotic weapon pro Mercurial weapon, monkey grip. Add standard fighter feats and you use a mercurial weapon one size larger than you are. Now, start working toward Weapon master, and by level ten or twelve you can hit a target one time for perfect damage, and it will be in the 170-200HP range, depending on your STR.
- Location
- Somewhere, Maybe
And that's without Leap Attack / Charge shenanigans. I've seen people hit 300 damage in a single blow, but that required a specific magic weapon and a Greathorn Minotaur Greathammer (Best exotic in 3.5 for sheer damage output. 1d12 base damage for Medium-size, 19-20/x4 crit, and it never got updated).
With the Manystrike enchantment (+3 equivalent, the weapon deals +300% base damage, usual stacking rules apply for crit-multipliers), you can get an obscene 4x damage on a normal hit, or up to 8x damage on a crit. and that multiplier applies to -all- static damage bonuses, like Strength Bonus, enchantment bonus, Collision (if it's got it), etc.
That particular hammer wound up becoming a legendary artifact in that campaign, the enemy forces would -recognize- it. ^^
They called it "Splatter".
5.4 Angels I
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Everyone, give my editor, Lycanthromancer, a pat on the back, 'kay?
New York, Federal Court
Paige McAbee, aka the world-famous vocalist Bad Canary, sat behind the table with Mr. Wright, her attorney. It had been an uphill battle, but at the very least she had managed to get a real attorney, not the public defender who was terrified to exist within the same state as her, let alone the same building. Who had paid for the attorney remained a mystery. The man had slowly picked apart the federal charges one by one, and he had just returned from a meeting in the judge's chambers.
The federal prosecutor did not look happy with the result of the meeting.
She thought back to the circumstances that had led to this. Her two-timing, cheating boyfriend had cornered her in her dressing room after a concert. He had threatened to sue her for half of her earnings, claiming that it was because of him that she had a successful singing career. She had been unaware that he had even been at the concert, which had just finished up.
Paige was a Parahuman. People thought the yellow feathers in her blonde hair were makeup, but they were actually real. Her powers gave her an incredible singing voice, but they also came with a downside; anyone who had heard her sing was susceptible to suggestion. Not just hers, but anyone's suggestions. When her boyfriend had cornered her in the dressing room, she had told him to "Go fuck yourself!" Her former boyfriend had been admitted to an ER later that night for trying to perform the anatomically impossible feat. It was then and there that he started screaming about being Mastered.
At first, she had been assigned a public defender. The man was so afraid of his client he couldn't adequately defend her. In the opening days of her trial, she was restrained in a fashion befitting Lung, in restraints that could hold anyone except the highest-rated Brutes. Further hampering her defense was the PRT's insistence that no one be allowed within one hundred yards of her.
Shortly afterward, things began to change. First was the change of representation. Mr. Wright had shown up one day and immediately sought motions against the PRT and the prosecution. These motions were sought at the next judicial level and were granted. Paige was no longer required to wear excessive restraints and only had to wear a mask that distorted her voice.
Soon, it became apparent that the prosecution had a prejudicial bias and that Paige's rights to representation had been seriously interfered with. It was also proven, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there was no court in the US where she could receive a fair trial, due both to her celebrity status and to the media inferno the prosecution and defense had taken every effort to throw gasoline on. On top of that, evidence tampering was discovered as well, throwing more fuel on the fire.
"Will the defendant please rise?" the judge asked.
Paige and her lawyer did so.
"Ms. McAbee, it is the finding of this court that there has been severe misconduct and procedural error in the handling of your case. The list is long, as the defense has made abundantly clear in the preceding meeting in my chambers. I am declaring a mistrial. Do you understand what that means?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Paige answered. "I do."
"It is the decision of this court that you be held over for a new trial on a lesser charge of assault with a Parahuman ability, 1st offense. You will be informed of your next hearing. You are remanded to the minimum security PRT detention area until that time." With that, the judge swung his gavel. "This court is now adjourned."
Paige sagged in relief.
Paige McAbee, aka the world-famous vocalist Bad Canary, sat behind the table with Mr. Wright, her attorney. It had been an uphill battle, but at the very least she had managed to get a real attorney, not the public defender who was terrified to exist within the same state as her, let alone the same building. Who had paid for the attorney remained a mystery. The man had slowly picked apart the federal charges one by one, and he had just returned from a meeting in the judge's chambers.
The federal prosecutor did not look happy with the result of the meeting.
She thought back to the circumstances that had led to this. Her two-timing, cheating boyfriend had cornered her in her dressing room after a concert. He had threatened to sue her for half of her earnings, claiming that it was because of him that she had a successful singing career. She had been unaware that he had even been at the concert, which had just finished up.
Paige was a Parahuman. People thought the yellow feathers in her blonde hair were makeup, but they were actually real. Her powers gave her an incredible singing voice, but they also came with a downside; anyone who had heard her sing was susceptible to suggestion. Not just hers, but anyone's suggestions. When her boyfriend had cornered her in the dressing room, she had told him to "Go fuck yourself!" Her former boyfriend had been admitted to an ER later that night for trying to perform the anatomically impossible feat. It was then and there that he started screaming about being Mastered.
At first, she had been assigned a public defender. The man was so afraid of his client he couldn't adequately defend her. In the opening days of her trial, she was restrained in a fashion befitting Lung, in restraints that could hold anyone except the highest-rated Brutes. Further hampering her defense was the PRT's insistence that no one be allowed within one hundred yards of her.
Shortly afterward, things began to change. First was the change of representation. Mr. Wright had shown up one day and immediately sought motions against the PRT and the prosecution. These motions were sought at the next judicial level and were granted. Paige was no longer required to wear excessive restraints and only had to wear a mask that distorted her voice.
Soon, it became apparent that the prosecution had a prejudicial bias and that Paige's rights to representation had been seriously interfered with. It was also proven, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there was no court in the US where she could receive a fair trial, due both to her celebrity status and to the media inferno the prosecution and defense had taken every effort to throw gasoline on. On top of that, evidence tampering was discovered as well, throwing more fuel on the fire.
"Will the defendant please rise?" the judge asked.
Paige and her lawyer did so.
"Ms. McAbee, it is the finding of this court that there has been severe misconduct and procedural error in the handling of your case. The list is long, as the defense has made abundantly clear in the preceding meeting in my chambers. I am declaring a mistrial. Do you understand what that means?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Paige answered. "I do."
"It is the decision of this court that you be held over for a new trial on a lesser charge of assault with a Parahuman ability, 1st offense. You will be informed of your next hearing. You are remanded to the minimum security PRT detention area until that time." With that, the judge swung his gavel. "This court is now adjourned."
Paige sagged in relief.
- - - - - - - - - -
"That went rather well," her lawyer commented. He stayed with his client all the way to the PRT building where she was being held.
"While I'm glad for your help, Mr. Wright," Paige admitted, "I'm still wondering who retained your services."
"It's probably not a good idea to talk about the case in the back of a PRT van," he admonished his client. "They are recording."
"Oh, right," the girl said sheepishly, then she waved at the bubble containing the camera and microphone.
They remained silent as they pulled into the secure garage at the Protectorate headquarters in New York City. They were shown to a conference room which was used for secure discussions. In this case, a talk between Mr. Wright and his client.
"I believe I'm now capable of answering your earlier question, Ms. McAbee," her lawyer said. "She is, after all, managing the room's security." With that, a screen on one wall came to life, with Dragon's avatar being displayed.
"Hello," Dragon said, waving kind of sheepishly. "Yes, I'm the one handling your attorney's fees. You were getting a very raw deal, and if there's one thing I believe in, it's justice. I'm the one who pointed Mr. Wright at information related to improprieties in the PRT's handling of this case, how several eyewitnesses' testimonies were discarded, evidence misplaced, and how there were severe prejudice and bias against you from all sides, including your previous defense attorney."
Her lawyer took over. "Once I knew about the information, I was able to get the required motions filed and get several things changed about how this case was being handled. I decided to go for a mistrial and get you a new trial on the charge you should have been charged with in the first place, not capital assault with a Parahuman ability."
Paige McAbee collapsed in relief in her chair. "Thank you," she said quietly, "both of you. I just wish I knew why all this happened."
"Your ex-boyfriend is being investigated for some rather shady business dealings," Dragon admitted. "I'm guessing his motive in coming to you and demanding half of your earnings had something to do with that."
"So what happens next?" Paige asked. "I know I've got a new trial coming up, but I'm unsure after that."
Mr. Wright held his hand toward the camera in a clear gesture of both thanks and dismissal. "I think, Dragon, my client and I will need some privacy." With a nod, the screen went dark. "I can prove that there is no court in the United States which will give you a fair trial," her lawyer explained. "That being said, we can either seek to have the case thrown completely out, or we could strike a deal with the prosecutors, to a plea of no contest and a sentence of time served. The time you've spent in jail awaiting trial and during trial more than covers the maximum sentence for assault with a Parahuman ability, 1st offense.
"That said, I could try for an acquittal, but given the current climate against Masters in general, it would be very difficult." He leaned back in the chair. "Still, when the trial is over, and if they agree, you would be a free woman."
"While I'm glad for your help, Mr. Wright," Paige admitted, "I'm still wondering who retained your services."
"It's probably not a good idea to talk about the case in the back of a PRT van," he admonished his client. "They are recording."
"Oh, right," the girl said sheepishly, then she waved at the bubble containing the camera and microphone.
They remained silent as they pulled into the secure garage at the Protectorate headquarters in New York City. They were shown to a conference room which was used for secure discussions. In this case, a talk between Mr. Wright and his client.
"I believe I'm now capable of answering your earlier question, Ms. McAbee," her lawyer said. "She is, after all, managing the room's security." With that, a screen on one wall came to life, with Dragon's avatar being displayed.
"Hello," Dragon said, waving kind of sheepishly. "Yes, I'm the one handling your attorney's fees. You were getting a very raw deal, and if there's one thing I believe in, it's justice. I'm the one who pointed Mr. Wright at information related to improprieties in the PRT's handling of this case, how several eyewitnesses' testimonies were discarded, evidence misplaced, and how there were severe prejudice and bias against you from all sides, including your previous defense attorney."
Her lawyer took over. "Once I knew about the information, I was able to get the required motions filed and get several things changed about how this case was being handled. I decided to go for a mistrial and get you a new trial on the charge you should have been charged with in the first place, not capital assault with a Parahuman ability."
Paige McAbee collapsed in relief in her chair. "Thank you," she said quietly, "both of you. I just wish I knew why all this happened."
"Your ex-boyfriend is being investigated for some rather shady business dealings," Dragon admitted. "I'm guessing his motive in coming to you and demanding half of your earnings had something to do with that."
"So what happens next?" Paige asked. "I know I've got a new trial coming up, but I'm unsure after that."
Mr. Wright held his hand toward the camera in a clear gesture of both thanks and dismissal. "I think, Dragon, my client and I will need some privacy." With a nod, the screen went dark. "I can prove that there is no court in the United States which will give you a fair trial," her lawyer explained. "That being said, we can either seek to have the case thrown completely out, or we could strike a deal with the prosecutors, to a plea of no contest and a sentence of time served. The time you've spent in jail awaiting trial and during trial more than covers the maximum sentence for assault with a Parahuman ability, 1st offense.
"That said, I could try for an acquittal, but given the current climate against Masters in general, it would be very difficult." He leaned back in the chair. "Still, when the trial is over, and if they agree, you would be a free woman."
<<><><><>>
Outlands, Sylvania
Sehanine sat in the garden of one of her favorite places, Selune's Smile. It was a tavern, true, but the proprietress had a most wonderful selection of teas, and Luna was a dear friend. It was a nearly perfect copy of the inn & tavern Luna had kept in Waterdeep.
She idly wondered if her estranged step-daughter would come to meet her. Sehanine's invitation had used the formal inflections of Akai'ye Quenya, or Ancient Elvish, often used in diplomacy.
She was soon joined by a lovely dark elven maiden. Not the imposing form of her avatar, but the form of the girl who had joined her mad mother in exile, hoping to turn at least some of her mother's followers away from madness, cruelty, and evil.
One of the waitstaff took her order. Sehanine sat and waited for her to at least take her first drink of the tea she had chosen. "I am here," Eilistraee said, "and I will listen to what you have to say."
Sehanine sighed. She cared for Eilistraee, her niece, as her own daughter, though the girl could be difficult at times. It led to a strained and distant relationship with her. In many ways, she took after her birth-mother. Still, her heart was in the right place.
"Your dear mother is up to some of her old tricks again," Sehanine said. "For whatever reason, she has claimed a young human girl as one of her chosen without informing her whatsoever of what that entails."
"Typical," Eilistraee said with an exasperated eyeroll. "Why tell me? Surely you'd like to thimblerig my dear mother at least as much as I would."
"True," the Elvish Goddess of the Moon allowed, then sipped at her tea. With a gesture, she created an image of the once-human girl as she currently was. "For some reason, Lolth was kind to this one, only gifting her with the form and the powers that came with it, instead of the curse and the madness."
"You know as well as I do that nothing we can do will be able to restore the girl's form."
"Child, I am more than aware of that," Sehanine replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. She paused momentarily, then sighed. "I am sorry, that was testier than it needed to be. Nothing we can do will restore her previous form, I agree. There may, however, be something that can be done to let her have some normalcy in her life, but I shall have to do some research."
"So why call me here to tell me this?"
"I am going to give the girl a gift. At the very least, it will annoy my sister. I surmised that you might like to, how does the human expression go...'tweak her nose'?"
"What are you planning to do, Mother, and how can I help?"
Sehanine took a look at Eilistraee's expression. She had seen that brand of malicious smile on her unlamented sister's face many times over the millennia. She didn't want to tell the younger goddess that she took after her mother, even (or especially) in this. It wouldn't go over well.
That didn't mean her own smile couldn't mirror it, however.
Sehanine sat in the garden of one of her favorite places, Selune's Smile. It was a tavern, true, but the proprietress had a most wonderful selection of teas, and Luna was a dear friend. It was a nearly perfect copy of the inn & tavern Luna had kept in Waterdeep.
She idly wondered if her estranged step-daughter would come to meet her. Sehanine's invitation had used the formal inflections of Akai'ye Quenya, or Ancient Elvish, often used in diplomacy.
She was soon joined by a lovely dark elven maiden. Not the imposing form of her avatar, but the form of the girl who had joined her mad mother in exile, hoping to turn at least some of her mother's followers away from madness, cruelty, and evil.
One of the waitstaff took her order. Sehanine sat and waited for her to at least take her first drink of the tea she had chosen. "I am here," Eilistraee said, "and I will listen to what you have to say."
Sehanine sighed. She cared for Eilistraee, her niece, as her own daughter, though the girl could be difficult at times. It led to a strained and distant relationship with her. In many ways, she took after her birth-mother. Still, her heart was in the right place.
"Your dear mother is up to some of her old tricks again," Sehanine said. "For whatever reason, she has claimed a young human girl as one of her chosen without informing her whatsoever of what that entails."
"Typical," Eilistraee said with an exasperated eyeroll. "Why tell me? Surely you'd like to thimblerig my dear mother at least as much as I would."
"True," the Elvish Goddess of the Moon allowed, then sipped at her tea. With a gesture, she created an image of the once-human girl as she currently was. "For some reason, Lolth was kind to this one, only gifting her with the form and the powers that came with it, instead of the curse and the madness."
"You know as well as I do that nothing we can do will be able to restore the girl's form."
"Child, I am more than aware of that," Sehanine replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. She paused momentarily, then sighed. "I am sorry, that was testier than it needed to be. Nothing we can do will restore her previous form, I agree. There may, however, be something that can be done to let her have some normalcy in her life, but I shall have to do some research."
"So why call me here to tell me this?"
"I am going to give the girl a gift. At the very least, it will annoy my sister. I surmised that you might like to, how does the human expression go...'tweak her nose'?"
"What are you planning to do, Mother, and how can I help?"
Sehanine took a look at Eilistraee's expression. She had seen that brand of malicious smile on her unlamented sister's face many times over the millennia. She didn't want to tell the younger goddess that she took after her mother, even (or especially) in this. It wouldn't go over well.
That didn't mean her own smile couldn't mirror it, however.
<<><><><>>
Brockton Bay
PRT Building
Lisa sat in the waiting area outside of Deputy Director Renick's office. Thankfully, Director Piggot was currently undergoing her dialysis treatment, so he was dealing with her afternoon appointments.
After a few minutes, the secretary showed her into his office.
"So, Ms. Wilbourn," he said, leaning back in his chair, "what can I help you with?"
"I have come across some information that I feel that the PRT, and in particular Director Piggot, should know about."
Director Renick thumbed the record button on the small digital recorder on his desk. He held up a hand as he recounted the date and time, and other relevant information for later archiving, in case it was needed. "Continue, please."
"We both know that Coil, aka Thomas Calvert, is dead. However, someone got hold of some of the information he had before I could scramble it. I don't know who. A concerned third party told me this when they warned me about a number of things concerning Calvert. I was one of several resources that they wanted to deny this someone. I suspect the other was a young girl Calvert had his eyes on, a precog."
"You mean the young lady you met a couple of days ago?" Renick asked.
Lisa nodded. "Our sudden post-Trigger transformations are connected. Mine was years after I became a Parahuman. Hers was about a month. But we both transformed within hours of each other, if not less. I'm 90% sure this occurred so that both of us would move out of reach of this party that has access to some or all of Calvert's information." She shrugged. "What I don't understand is how they got it. The last timestamps for access on those particular files were weeks prior to my erasing them."
Deputy Director Renick sighed. "While we," with the 'we' obviously meaning the PRT, "wish you hadn't erased most of the sensitive information he had on his servers, we understand why. And the information you have provided us so far has been invaluable in dismantling a fair amount of illegal activity he was a part of, so we're willing to overlook that, as well as a certain someone's seizure of some of Coil's assets." The thin veneer of deniability was little more than a polite fiction between them, but it was enough to suit her.
Lisa's Trademark Grin™ made an appearance for the first time since she'd entered the office. "That certain someone was wondering when that would come up," Lisa said. "She's glad it's not going to come back to bite her in the ass, I'm sure." She winked. "I'll see if I can find out more about who's gotten hold of Coil's data, but I'm not guaranteeing anything."
"Thank you. There was no way I could order you to do so," Renick answered, then paused. "Okay, I could, but you could, as an affiliate, tell me to go do something rude. So, I will politely request you to do so and that any information you uncover would be greatly appreciated."
"That I can do," Lisa answered. "I'll make sure that it's verifiable and obtained through wholly legal means."
Mike Renick laughed at that. "I'm sure Legal would appreciate that."
PRT Building
Lisa sat in the waiting area outside of Deputy Director Renick's office. Thankfully, Director Piggot was currently undergoing her dialysis treatment, so he was dealing with her afternoon appointments.
After a few minutes, the secretary showed her into his office.
"So, Ms. Wilbourn," he said, leaning back in his chair, "what can I help you with?"
"I have come across some information that I feel that the PRT, and in particular Director Piggot, should know about."
Director Renick thumbed the record button on the small digital recorder on his desk. He held up a hand as he recounted the date and time, and other relevant information for later archiving, in case it was needed. "Continue, please."
"We both know that Coil, aka Thomas Calvert, is dead. However, someone got hold of some of the information he had before I could scramble it. I don't know who. A concerned third party told me this when they warned me about a number of things concerning Calvert. I was one of several resources that they wanted to deny this someone. I suspect the other was a young girl Calvert had his eyes on, a precog."
"You mean the young lady you met a couple of days ago?" Renick asked.
Lisa nodded. "Our sudden post-Trigger transformations are connected. Mine was years after I became a Parahuman. Hers was about a month. But we both transformed within hours of each other, if not less. I'm 90% sure this occurred so that both of us would move out of reach of this party that has access to some or all of Calvert's information." She shrugged. "What I don't understand is how they got it. The last timestamps for access on those particular files were weeks prior to my erasing them."
Deputy Director Renick sighed. "While we," with the 'we' obviously meaning the PRT, "wish you hadn't erased most of the sensitive information he had on his servers, we understand why. And the information you have provided us so far has been invaluable in dismantling a fair amount of illegal activity he was a part of, so we're willing to overlook that, as well as a certain someone's seizure of some of Coil's assets." The thin veneer of deniability was little more than a polite fiction between them, but it was enough to suit her.
Lisa's Trademark Grin™ made an appearance for the first time since she'd entered the office. "That certain someone was wondering when that would come up," Lisa said. "She's glad it's not going to come back to bite her in the ass, I'm sure." She winked. "I'll see if I can find out more about who's gotten hold of Coil's data, but I'm not guaranteeing anything."
"Thank you. There was no way I could order you to do so," Renick answered, then paused. "Okay, I could, but you could, as an affiliate, tell me to go do something rude. So, I will politely request you to do so and that any information you uncover would be greatly appreciated."
"That I can do," Lisa answered. "I'll make sure that it's verifiable and obtained through wholly legal means."
Mike Renick laughed at that. "I'm sure Legal would appreciate that."
<<><><><>>
???
Deirdre was bored. She had been tasked to watch this area of the Astral Plane, reporting back to her mistress whenever she felt like it. Considering that she didn't like having her flesh slowly eaten by various demonic variations of spiders, that meant she was making mostly regular reports over the comings and goings of beings near this world that was suddenly of interest to her mistress and a great number of other beings.
She was not surprised when she had a visitor.
Eilistraee had announced herself by simply appearing before the demon. "I would normally not deign to talk to a servant of my mother," she stated plainly, "but I require some information."
"As I do not wish to be erased from existence," the demon replied. "I will answer as best I'm able."
"Your mistress has claimed someone against her will on this world. I wish to know who she is and where she lives."
"The girl you seek is named Dinah. Dinah Alcott. You should have no trouble finding her; she is the only spider maiden there."
"So, not a drider. Most interesting."
"That's not any of my business," Deirdre remarked. "If you really need a messenger girl, Hlal is wandering around there someplace..."
"Hlal? That unreliable flying gecko? Feh. I have better ways of wasting my time," Eilistraee sneered. She was busy enough rolling her eyes that she did not see the demon shushing her or pointing at something behind her.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," something large and none-too-pleased growled behind the dark elven goddess of music, song, and freedom.
Dragons, by their very nature, are large and impressive; one might even say awesome and terrific if you want to use the old definitions of the words. Copper dragons are among the smaller breeds, yet a copper great wyrm is still awe- and terror-inspiring, no matter how friendly they typically are. So how much more so would an irate dragon who also happened to be a goddess be?
"Despite you being one of the more open-minded deities, your overly inflated opinion of yourself is still rather unbecoming." As Eilistraee turned to face the speaker, she found herself nose to snout with Hlal and her ever-present grin. Hlal was as large as her siblings, easily larger than the largest remaining gold dragons. She smelled faintly of vinegar and cold, wet stone. "You know, you really need to get out more and meet some other people. Some social interactions and the niceties they require could do you some good, Eilie."
Eilistraee hated the nickname that Hlal had given her in ages past. Still, she was not going to let the draconic goddess of what dragons considered 'humor' get the better of her this time. She smiled; it wasn't a happy smile, although she was quite good at faking it after centuries of practice. "We were just talking about you."
"Sure you were," Hlal replied with no small amount of snark. "You need a package delivered to Brockton Bay, huh?" Her snout was now literally pressed firmly against the drow goddess's nose.
Despite Eilistraee being quite powerful in her own right, there was something visceral about being so close to so many razor-sharp fangs that set her on edge. She swallowed the heart beating in her throat and replied with all the calm she could muster, "Why yes. Yes I do. What will this cost me?"
"You'll need to make me laugh three times," Hlal said, her grin taking a maliciously gleeful gleam, "...with dwarven humor."
"I don't suppose I could offer you some priceless works of art, or maybe an artifact of some kind instead?"
Hlal snorted, which blew back the drow goddess's hair. "Be glad I respect your freedom; otherwise, you'd be serving me, Tiamat, and Bahamut high tea in a maid's uniform." Hlal glared at Eilistraee to show her displeasure at the attempt at worming her way out of proper payment.
"Fine." The dark elven goddess sighed. "If I absolutely must. Must I do so now, or may I have some time to consider it?" Because I am so going to need a lot of time for this one.
"I'll be generous and give you as much time as you'll no doubt require," Hlal said, her grin becoming more maddening. "I know your sense of humor is rather anorexic, so you're going to need it. In the meantime, what do you need to be delivered, and to whom?"
Deirdre was bored. She had been tasked to watch this area of the Astral Plane, reporting back to her mistress whenever she felt like it. Considering that she didn't like having her flesh slowly eaten by various demonic variations of spiders, that meant she was making mostly regular reports over the comings and goings of beings near this world that was suddenly of interest to her mistress and a great number of other beings.
She was not surprised when she had a visitor.
Eilistraee had announced herself by simply appearing before the demon. "I would normally not deign to talk to a servant of my mother," she stated plainly, "but I require some information."
"As I do not wish to be erased from existence," the demon replied. "I will answer as best I'm able."
"Your mistress has claimed someone against her will on this world. I wish to know who she is and where she lives."
"The girl you seek is named Dinah. Dinah Alcott. You should have no trouble finding her; she is the only spider maiden there."
"So, not a drider. Most interesting."
"That's not any of my business," Deirdre remarked. "If you really need a messenger girl, Hlal is wandering around there someplace..."
"Hlal? That unreliable flying gecko? Feh. I have better ways of wasting my time," Eilistraee sneered. She was busy enough rolling her eyes that she did not see the demon shushing her or pointing at something behind her.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," something large and none-too-pleased growled behind the dark elven goddess of music, song, and freedom.
Dragons, by their very nature, are large and impressive; one might even say awesome and terrific if you want to use the old definitions of the words. Copper dragons are among the smaller breeds, yet a copper great wyrm is still awe- and terror-inspiring, no matter how friendly they typically are. So how much more so would an irate dragon who also happened to be a goddess be?
"Despite you being one of the more open-minded deities, your overly inflated opinion of yourself is still rather unbecoming." As Eilistraee turned to face the speaker, she found herself nose to snout with Hlal and her ever-present grin. Hlal was as large as her siblings, easily larger than the largest remaining gold dragons. She smelled faintly of vinegar and cold, wet stone. "You know, you really need to get out more and meet some other people. Some social interactions and the niceties they require could do you some good, Eilie."
Eilistraee hated the nickname that Hlal had given her in ages past. Still, she was not going to let the draconic goddess of what dragons considered 'humor' get the better of her this time. She smiled; it wasn't a happy smile, although she was quite good at faking it after centuries of practice. "We were just talking about you."
"Sure you were," Hlal replied with no small amount of snark. "You need a package delivered to Brockton Bay, huh?" Her snout was now literally pressed firmly against the drow goddess's nose.
Despite Eilistraee being quite powerful in her own right, there was something visceral about being so close to so many razor-sharp fangs that set her on edge. She swallowed the heart beating in her throat and replied with all the calm she could muster, "Why yes. Yes I do. What will this cost me?"
"You'll need to make me laugh three times," Hlal said, her grin taking a maliciously gleeful gleam, "...with dwarven humor."
"I don't suppose I could offer you some priceless works of art, or maybe an artifact of some kind instead?"
Hlal snorted, which blew back the drow goddess's hair. "Be glad I respect your freedom; otherwise, you'd be serving me, Tiamat, and Bahamut high tea in a maid's uniform." Hlal glared at Eilistraee to show her displeasure at the attempt at worming her way out of proper payment.
"Fine." The dark elven goddess sighed. "If I absolutely must. Must I do so now, or may I have some time to consider it?" Because I am so going to need a lot of time for this one.
"I'll be generous and give you as much time as you'll no doubt require," Hlal said, her grin becoming more maddening. "I know your sense of humor is rather anorexic, so you're going to need it. In the meantime, what do you need to be delivered, and to whom?"