Greywind

eh, no? When their ship was blown up and the gas started venting into their meeting room, they both took a deep breath. And waited for the doors to open. At which point they attacked the droid clown troops before venturing further into the Trade Federation ship. Cutting through the blast doors came later.

Some of the things you point out are specifically plot points. Points done to drive the story. Not necessarily the characters in question.

Hulk's strength can easily exceed 100 if you get him mad enough. The more intelligent Hulk is depicted seems to have a capping effect on his STR. The smarter he gets, the lower his upper end seems to be.

You don't have to reduce. Some characters are just that powerful.

They did Ninja Hero for 5th? Must have missed that one.

Point being, if a hero gets sick, it is usually a plot point.

Easiest way to get feedback on that is to post your players' characters on the board.

Eh, keeping your immunity system strong fends off the cold and flu. Heroes tend to be exceptionally healthy. No immunity required.

Diablo/Diablo II modules were released for AD&D 2nd, I believe.

What's the "10+DCV" if the GM refuses to supply the DCV?

Wha?

If you don't care if the players know what they are aiming at.

Except that too often Hulk has been incapacitated if he can't breathe.

He's discussing death. That doesn't necessarily entail that he's going to kill off anyone. Coulson was Feige's idea from what I've seen.

If the story requires it. If the story requires it. As long as the plot requires it.

Show me where it was unequivocably said she's dying.

The bits about Theresa, someone wanted to know how Jason and Leah were before she left. Just gave me a point to give more definition to Trese. I've got a timeline worked out for some things, but most of my focus on an actual story follows Business Unfinished and the situation with Bauer.

Pulling the drawstring tight on the sweat pants, Theresa took in how thin she was. Too long without regular eating was better in her mind than dealing further with Burt. It didn't surprise her that he hadn't had her declared missing. She slipped her arms into the sweat shirt. It hung low, further covering the thinness of her body. The sleeves dropped past her hands. Theresa tugged the sleeves up to her elbows where they argued with her about staying. She frowned in the mirror. Her hair, clean after far too long, hung damp and long. Theresa pulled it from the collar of her shirt and ran a brush she had found on the counter through it. She smiled to herself. Theresa couldn't explain it and she didn't understand it, but she felt safer now than she had in a long time. “Since mom...” She frowned at the thought and set the brush back on the counter. What if...what if he's not being helpful? What if he wants something in return? Crossing her arms, Theresa stared at her reflection. What if he wants what Burt did? She dropped her eyes, unable to meet her own gaze. He's not like that, she argued with herself. Everything I've read about him said that he's a decent guy. You just met him. I bet mom thought Burt was a decent guy, her reflection seemed to say to her. What about putting his hand on your leg the way he did? He was trying to reassure me is all! She thought back at the mirror. Sure he was. It wasn't like he couldn't have just patted it. No, he had to leave it resting there, the reflection taunted her again. Theresa brought her eyes up to the mirror again. The look on her face was resolute. He's not going to hurt me! She flung the throw out of her way and walked quietly down the hall. The aroma of cooking onions and garlic met her before she left the shadows of the hall. Theresa watched from a distance. From the movement and the sounds it seemed he was chopping something up. He dumped what he had into a pan causing steam to rise. She leaned against the wall, shoulder and head, and crossed her arms; watching. He moved on to something else, slicing instead of chopping. When he was finished, he added to the pan and washed the knife. She found that peculiar; washing while doing instead of letting things pile up to be washed all at once. Theresa lost track of how long she had been standing there. With a sigh, she walked out into the light and started taking in her surroundings. Everything seemed to be made of wood. The kitchen where Jason was, was off to one side. The appliances, while modern, tended to blend in. The dining table set for three on the other side of a service bar, was large enough to seat a small army. A bay window caught her attention. On the padded seat, leaning against the wall, was a black acoustic guitar. Theresa seemed drawn to it. There was a splash of purple on the body. The pickguard blended in to the body. She moved closer. The splash of color was from violets painted on the surface. Her fingers reached out and stroked the strings, sending a few notes into the air. “Do you play?” Jason asked her. Theresa turned to him and saw something, a look of hurt or something else, before he masked it. She shook her head. “My mom...she played. Is this yours? Of course it's yours. It's in your cabin and...” “Slow down, Theresa,” he said with a smile. “It's mine, but I don't play. It probably needs to be tuned. It belonged to someone that was very special to me.” “Sandy Wilson?” Jason cocked his head at her. “I read.” Theresa dropped her head. “A lot.” “It was hers. She left it there the last time she was here. She wasn't planning on it being a long time before she came back to it,” Jason explained quietly. Theresa walked slowly towards the kitchen. “Can I ask you something?” Jason smiled at her. “Ask.” “Why are you helping me?” He gave her a concerned look and turned back to tend what he was cooking. “Do you feel that you are somehow not worthy of being helped?” “Do you always answer a question with a question?” she snapped back. Jason raised an eyebrow in Theresa's direction before giving his full attention to the stove. “Not always. It's nice to know you have a few teeth.” Dropping her chin to her chest, she said, “I'm sorry. It's been a hellacious day. I guess it's all catching up to me. Why are you helping me?” “Which reason would you accept? I've been accused of being a white knight. I help because I think it is something that my mom would do. I help to honor a promise. More importantly, I helped you because you needed it. If I hadn't helped you, I probably would have a problem looking in the mirror next time I needed a shave.” Theresa looked at him for a long moment before a smile crept on her face. He hadn't looked at her at all during his explanation. The same feeling of relief she had felt earlier came into her again. “What are you cooking?” He smiled without looking at her. “I've got a pot of chili going for tomorrow in the slow cooker. Chicken and Spanish rice for tonight.” “Do you need some help?” she offered. “If you're handy with a knife, Theresa, there's a couple of peppers in the fridge that you can chop up for this.” “Trese. I like to be called Trese by my friends.” “I'd like us to be friends,” he said smiling at her. “How old are you, Trese?” His question caught her off guard. “I...I'm nineteen. Like I told the sheriff.” Jason stopped what he was doing to stare at her. “I think Theresa, that if we're going to be friends that there's a few things we need to get straight. One: don't lie to me. It's really simple. If I ask you a question that you aren't willing to answer, say so. Don't lie. “Two: the sheriff didn't believe that you're nineteen any more than I did.” “Then why did he let me come with you?” Her eyes burned, but she refused to shed the tears. “Because he trusts me, for one thing, and he thought that you would be better off with a friend than with a State agency and juvenile detention.” Theresa had a hard time looking him in the eye, so she looked down at her socked feet. “Sixteen.” Jason nodded. “Are you running from or to?” She didn't know what to do with her hands. Theresa fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and tangling her fingers in the hem of the shirt she was wearing. “From. I...I don't want to talk about that.” “Fair enough, Trese. Peppers. You can use the knife I just rinsed off.”

Jason closed the door behind Michael after making sure the man made it safely into his truck. They heard the engine catch and the tires crunch snow when he headed down the lane he had plowed on his way up. “Why did he say not to wander?” Theresa asked. Leah smiled. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh, my,” she sang. Theresa gave her a funny look. “More like 'mountain lions and wolves and bears', but the idea is the same. This is a wilderness area, Theresa. In the winter food is sometimes scarce and the cats and wolves will hunt people if they're hungry enough,” Jason explained. “Oh,” she said quietly. “What happens now?” “Now?” Jason looked at her for a long moment. “Now, how about a bath? It must have been a while since you've had a real chance to clean up.” She gave him a grateful look. “Too long.” “Leah, why don't you pull stuff out for dinner while I get her settled?” Leah gave him an amused questioning look. “My weekend. Remember? I'm not cooking.” “Didn't say you were. I just asked that you get stuff out so I can cook.” “Well, I suppose I can do that much,” she said, turning to open the refrigerator. Jason led Theresa down the hall to the bath room. She held her bag with both hands tight against her body. “I don't have anything to wear,” she said despondently. “Everything I have with me is dirty. Until earlier, this shirt and jeans were in the best shape. Now...” Stopping to look at her, Jason said gently, “One thing at a time. Okay? First, we get you cleaned up so that you feel better.” He stepped into the bathroom with Theresa in tow. “That's a big tub,” she said quietly. The bathtub looked like it could accommodate five of her. Jason smiled. Pulling towels and washcloth from a linen closet, he said, “When you're older, you might understand why.” Looking confused for a moment, Theresa looked at him for a long moment. “Oh!” she exclaimed, blushing. She looked around for a moment. “Where's the door?” “Ah, a friend of mine got a little carried away. She didn't realize her own strength.” He went out into the hall from where Theresa heard a door open, and then a few seconds later, close. Jason reappeared with a wolf throw hanging from a rod. He set the rod into hooks above the door. “There's soap and shampoo in the cabinet there. Pick your flavor.” Theresa opened the indicated door. “There's so many different kinds.” “Lots of female friends with different preferences,” he said by way of explanation. “Run the water to your liking. I'll see what I can find for you to wear.” He slipped from the room, allowing the curtain to fall into place. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Theresa said, “He's not what I expected.” She took a closer look at herself. Her hair was lank and dirty. Her face, while cleaner than it had been in the bar, was still a far cry from being fresh. Her fingers traced the cut in her shirt. Tears stung her eyes. “It's just a stupid shirt,” she said quietly. She pulled it over her head and tossed it next to her bag. Fingers wiped at her eyes. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she said, “I like it hot. Not too hot.” She reached for spigot. Water running; tested for temperature, Theresa shucked her jeans off. Those she lay on the counter and took in the long cut in the leg. She checked her bare leg and saw a light scratch running up where the knife had passed through the denim. Seeing it and realizing it was there made it start to ache. Jason's hand passed by the curtain and set sweat pants, shirt and socks on the counter. Theresa squeaked. “You okay?” he asked. Giggling to relieve tension, Theresa said, “You startled me.” “I'm sorry. Set your clothes here by the door before you get in the tub. I'll collect them in a few minutes and we'll get your stuff cleaned up as best I can. Okay?” “Yeah, sure, I guess. Is it okay if I...” “Anything you like, Theresa. As long as it doesn't involve anyone breaking a law.”

It isn't neglect, Storn. It's you having your priorities in order.

0 Can't be Killed by Cain, no matter how gruesome