conversations: human
conversations:  (AHAHAHAH! IT BEGINS!)
  
  As the seven of you mill about the base, watching poorly-written soaps and picking at your belly-button lint, the main screen your oversized main-screen suddenly slams into place! You wish it wouldn’t do that. Someone is going to loose an arm to that thing.
  
  The half-maddened features of DR.MAGENETHANDS, manifests on screen; in all his monocle-and-eyepatch-wearing, moustache-twirling, magnet-phlanged glory.
  
  “Zo, [INSTEAT SUPERHERO TEAM HERE]! You thought Ey, DR.MAGENETHANDS, wouldn’t notice your FEEEBLE attempt to stop I, DR.MAGENETHANDS devious Christmas present for the president? No matter! Eeyt will take more zhen the likez of you to stop I, DR.MAGENETHANDS’ glorious radioactive master plan! I hope you like fowl play!
  
  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH-“
  
  The screen cuts out before he could finish.  He must have incredible lung capacity.
  
  There is a distant boom and the screen is replaced by an ear-splitting crack,  a gigantic hole in the shape of a yellow robot, and the yellow robot itself.  As a massive hawk and it’s equally massive gunblade wreck havoc in the distance, the mecha’s chicken legs spark with animatronic power, and it’s multi-coloured gating guns whirl, filling the room with the distant noise of hundreds of transformation sequences beginning at once.
  
  What will you do?
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson stares at the mecha-poultry with unbelieving rage.  First, TV breaks his heart, and now a cyber-chicken breaks his TV?  A man of lesser rage might be confused by this cycle of events, rather than infuriated.
  
  But Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson is no man of lesser rage.
  
   "I'M THINKING YOU WEREN'T BURDENED WITH AN OVERABUNDANCE OF SCHOOLING, MOTHERF***ER!"  he roars,  "TASTE CARDBOARD AND SUSTAINABLY-GROWN KALE!!" 
  
  So saying, he throws the pizza box like a mighty discus, like those thrown by the athletes of ancient Greece.  Except, this one was still filled with kale and cheese residue.  Tiny slivers of the health-filled vegetable went flying into the yellow fowl.  Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson surveyed his work with satisfaction.
  
   "No cyber-bird can stand the healthful vigor of sustainably grown kale!"  he proclaimed proudly.
  
   "It is known,"  solemnly intoned Standish, his manservant-who-was-sometimes-there-and-sometimes-wasn't.
  
   "It is known,"  agreed Cornwallis, his other-manservant-who-was-sometimes-there-and-sometimes-wasn't.
conversations: herodofcows:
conversations: human
conversations:  The pen is mightier than the sword, so therefore, by that logic cardboard is much tougther then reinforced polychromite. The walker is toppled as the twin gatling guns fire their payload upward, and confused, bird-themed  mahou shoujo  rain from the sky in a defining burst of glitter! The box rebounds into the waiting hands of Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson!  Standish and Cornwallis politely golf-clap.
  
  Unfortunately, the robot was the first of many. The ludicrously-sized gunblade held in the ring-encrusted claws of a colossal, hawk relates a booming staccato as the mecha/attendant teenagers wreak havoc. Atop its massive top hat, Bawkers indulges in maniacal clucking as he releases yet another thermonuclear death chicken into a waiting crowd of orphan nuns.
  
  The city needs heroes now more than ever!
  
  Unfortunately, all it has are you guys.
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  Your mom looks up at the massive hole in the wall.
  
  "Tsk," she says, almost to herself, "we're going to have to get the builders in to fix that one." She adjusts her hair and pats the brick-dust off her apron, then wanders off to the flak cannons to lend air support.
  
  [Not playing any cards because none of them fit the current situation - just chipping in]
conversations: The_Rook:
conversations: human
conversations:  In his frequent haunt in the base's science facility, Steve glanced up from his chemistry textbook to check on the viewscreen to the lounge--if he had to be stuck in here studying, he wanted to at least make sure his teammates weren't doing anything fun without him.  Honestly, he wasn't sure why he was bothering with this degree anymore, what with his room and board being guaranteed by the superhero thing, but he'd never been the sort of man to give up on something he'd started.
  
  He looked up at the screen, and dimly noticed the other team members in a fight for their lives against an army of scantily-clad Japanese teenage girls, as the giant mechanized poultry looked on.
  
  He lowered his gaze back to his textbook, counted to ten slowly, and tried again.
  
  Yep, still mass-combat-magical-girls-giant-robot-chicken.
  
   "Well"  he said to himself with a regretful sigh  "guess no homework for me today." 
  
  Seconds later, Steve burst through the door into the lounge, cutting his most heroic figure against the entryway, his left hand clutching a large, firmly sealed flask.  With his most rakish smirk, he stared Bawkers straight in his beady little chicken eyes and launched into his standard dramatic arrival act.
  
   "So, old Magnet-paws up to his old tricks again?  Overgrown Christmas turkeys attacking HQ?"   He gripped his belt with his free right hand, and, as he reached the crescendo of his spiel with  "sounds like  this  is a job for..." , dramatically dropped his pants.   "CAPTAIN THUNDERWEAR!"   He added a flash of lightning and an actual thunderclap on the last syllable, just for good measure.
  
  Hefting the flask of highly-concentrated sulfuric acid he'd hastily grabbed from the laboratory, he flew by the seat of his underpants up to Bawkers' altitude, weaving and dodging as much as possible to avoid taking a schoolgirl to the face.  As soon as he was within tossing range, he hurled the acid at the foul fowl as hard as possible.   "How's  this  for a community college education being useless?" 
conversations: Amaril:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Well, the fact that your wretched superpowers got you into college in the first place kidna disproves your poi-OHGODMYFACE" 
  
  Bawker's shrill scream fills the air as he tumbles from the crown of the deathly wealthy hawk, and managed to total a pile of mechas who were trying to become Turkey-Voltron. Man. They do not build these things like they used to.
  
   Long, Glorious, and Majestic Eyebrows furrowing, the hawk screeches a battlecry as the skies darken with stormclouds. It's gold-plated gunblade becomes electrified, and as the streets flood it lungers at Captain Thunderwear!
  
  Meanwhile, on the streets filled with malfunctioning mechas and soggy schoolgirls, a waterfall unleashes a true horror upon the world: Eliminster fist-fighting what appears to be a raft made of bears.
  Yes, you heard me.
  
  ...You're not gonna let that Marty-Stu show you up, are you?
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  
   [Not playing any cards because none of them fit the current situation - just chipping in] 
  
  Don't say that! Try something! You have a theoretically unlimited amount of iced coffee!
   
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  The Moist Pink And Green Towel of Justice takes advantage of the wetness, activating Mecha-Pope's Severed Batrachian Command Module. He summons an army of frogs, ordering them to swarm over Elminster and the bearaft.
  
  Then it leaps into the fray, fringes akimbo, heading towards Deathly Wealthy Hawk, Thunder of Tornadoes.
conversations: Vedhin:
conversations: human
conversations:  Elminster is overwhelmed by the combined mass of his ursine/amphibious fiends, and in a fit of defiance, prepares a hitherto-unseen spell of unfathomable strength!
  
  However, making several hundred checks to cast definitely is difficult even for a wizard of his caliber, and it misfires! He is crushed in the center of an anamorphic bowling-ball the size of Godzilla. (Incidentally, S.E.N.P.A.I noticed that.)
  
  Unfortunately this 'raft' is now slowing rolling around the vegas strip, and is heading for the effiel tower! If the flooding, mechas, and rolling boulder aren't stopped, they'll be no city left to save!
  
  In addition, those of you near where bawkers fell hear a strange gurgling, as if someone was trying to spit out a death curse underwater...
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  The mecha piloting German sword shouts out in its language  " Absturz durch das! "   and fires its jury rigged blackhole powered side loading washing machines at the gunblade in an effort to clothe all of the magical girls it may spawn.
conversations: Dagoth Gares:
conversations: human
conversations:  Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson emerges into the Vegas strip, attended/not-attended by Standish and Cornwallis.
  
   "Gad-motherf***ing-zooks!"  he curses, bending over briefly to retrieve his pizza box,  "Cardboard and kale can do nothing here, no matter how sustainably grown!" 
  
  For a moment, the rage of Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson is crushed under the weight of despair.  What could one browncoat, no matter how illustrious his descent, do against such an onslaught?
  
    "Remember who you are . . ."   Samuel L. Jackson's face, framed in the clouds, booms down to Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson.
  
   "F . . . father?  Other-father, I mean, since I have two fathers?" 
    ". . ."  
  
  Samuel L. Jackson's face is briefly confused, before plowing forward:
  
    "Remember, Nicodemus . . . you are my son.  And one bad motherf***er . . ."  
  
  Samuel L. Jackson's face fades from view.  Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson leaps up, face ablaze with triumphant rage rekindled.  He is renewed!
  
   "YES, FATHER! I SHALL BECOME . . . A JACKSON!" 
  
  He leaps into the path of the raft, in front of the Eiffel Tower, and releases his Jacksonian heritage in a barrage of manly pheromones, hoping to cow the bear-raft into aiding him in holding back the flood by sheer force of motherf***ery.
conversations: herodofcows:
conversations: human
conversations:  After a devastating exchange of blows between the deathly wealthy and our unlikely heroes, the hawk decided it’s had enough! It brings to bear the gunblade big enough to have it’s own zipcode, and switches it to full auto for a final devastating barrage…
  
  Or would, If not for a washing machine launching itself in the barrel at approximately twice the speed of sound. One devastating implosion later, and the gunblade, along with it’s attendant hand, is no more, reduced to quantum strings and detergent!*
  
  Meanwhile, Nicodemus Ezekiel Campbell-Jackson stares at the bear-frog ball. The ball stares back.  Nicodemus Adjusts the strength of his glare. The bears, frogs, magical girls, mechas, and what’s left of Elminsiter silent nod and acquiesce to your biddings, doing urgently needed repair-work and disaster relief. They know better.
  
  Unfortunately, the day is still far from saved, there is a distant rumbling as water drains as if into a huge whirlpool and the suddenly explodes outward, carrying with it an army of screaming cassowaries, lead by a massive, cybernetic variant! The skeletonised Bawkers clucks like a madman as he ascends backs his previous perch, and prepares to command the feathered legions...
  
   
  *No mechas, pilots or magical girls were harmed in the making of this description. Well, not permanently, anyway. 
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  Few men could claim the skill of the Ninja, and fewer Ninja's still were Bears. If fact, there was only one, and thus, due to the Conservation of Ninja's, that made this bear the most powerful bear around, none could stand in her way, and no Eye Brows, no matter how long and glorious, could stand up to the claws of a Ninja Bear.
  
  Especially when those eyebrows cast a convenient shadow for the Ninja-Bear to Hide in.
conversations: Sir Dancealot:
conversations: human
conversations:  Dealthy wealthy hawk looks at the cranage. Then at the bear. Then at the carnage again, then at the bear.
  
  Then he screams internally.
  
   Eyebrows plucked: 2/2 
  
  Unfortunately the cassowaries are still making themselves a nuisance: eating spleens, tearing down buildings and constantly jaywalking!
conversations: Doorhandle: