Eddy_B

Zomg! Stalkers running away in pvp! Oh noes! Its not like thats what stalkers were kinda made for or anything noooo. Yes, all stalkers should stand and fight and volunterily gimp themselves so that others can blow us to hell as this is what they are good at. Stalkers should not be allowed to play on their strenghts at all. We should stay out of hide, jump up and down without and travel powers and paint a big fat target symbol on our backs saying please kill me.

Or maybe not.

After having my [censored] repeatedly handed to me and the various other stalkers on my team in SC the other day by a whole team of blasters with their own defenders and the odd illu/storm troller, i got to thinking.

There are ATs out there that dedicate themselves to hunting stalkers, quite an honour as when have you ever seen threads about Brute-killers or MM-destroyers. We have the rare honour of being an AT that gets hunted for sport over other ATs. So what do you do to get around these incredibly annoying blasters with their nice friendly defenders. Soloing them is usually impossible, especially when the defender is often barely touchable and the blaster can spot you a way before you get anywhere close. What tricks do you use? Tp foe? Also, what primaries and secondaries work best against these evil hunters. Spines with impale is a flying defenders nightmare im sure, and EMs huge toggle dropping ability i bet helps, and /EAs repel resistance helps with those /storm trollers.

I just would like to know how people get around these hunters, or what other forms of AT would be good at targetting them specifically? (atm thinking EM/ Brute would do nicely)

So any thoughts?

I dont know if your being sarcastic Hammerfall or just missed psys point. Though maybe psy could have been clearer in his sarcasm by adding a nice friendly smiley

Well Psydock I totally agree. Went to mess around in SC today while killing time waiting for my dinner to cook. A whole team of blasters and their defenders were in there killing any stalker that came anywhere near them. At SC level I dont have stealth (not actually specced for pvp, just go there for a laugh) but I do have a stealth IO, only person that couldnt see me was a regen scrapper. Everyone else, could see me a mile off, and everyone on my will team regularly got their [censored] handed to them. Now im no great pvper by any means, actually im pretty bad, but if being a stalker was easy in pvp, then a bunch of nice squishies would have been a walk in the park. This is an odd game in that the stealth class have their whole advantage entirely taken away from them most of the time when it comes to pvp, and the amount of times that you are actually able to AS anyone is pretty rare.

Playing a stalker in pvp is easy? Yeh right.

Thats a bad cough u got there. Might wanna get that seen to by someone :P

Lol me nice and relaxed atm. Just asking the question thats all.

Didnt know about the mod changeover (should really start reading announcements forum i guess)

Just wondered and bored at home as off from work tis all.

Is it just me or has no one won the award for creative genius in june? and where is the nominations for it for the july entries?

Anyone know?

[ QUOTE ]
It is just my hatred for Stalkers talking.

[/ QUOTE ]

Never have quite understood why you say you hate stalkers so much, and yet are a constant in most stalker threads? Either you hate them cos youve never played one high enough to enjoy them, or you've just been ASd so many times they annoy you, or your just another person who likes to berate and ridicule what they dont understand.

Stealth classes in any game are always hated for the same reasons. They are usually the premiere pvp class, and people whine about not being able to see them and so it isnt a fair fight. Well stalkers are villains, since when did a fair fight come into it? and if you cant see us then u need more +per and if wanna hunt stalkers, then go make a stalker hunter toon. I for one would ask that if your going to come into the stalker forums, with little of use to say to those looking for advice about stalkers, then would you please refrain from doing so. It's just counter productive and unhelpfull to those of us that actually want advice/to help.

/e rant end

A very cool style. Very different from the usual comic book drawing, and it definately adds something extra to the pic. Very cool.

So now the secret is revealed. Maybe they got the idea for malta gunslingers from there. who knows.

heard an odd

Do tell, what exactly is the right reference for this char?

Devs decided to

The Chinchilla shouted

high pitched giggle

Kinda reminds me of a malta gunslinger with the whole hat and coat thing going on, but a very cool picutre none the less.

We didnt unfairly target you Von, you were totally fair game. I just went for you more often than the others

Also to all the others that joined us that night, from both sides, that was awesome fun, and i even got 2 nice lvl 53 SOs from all the bounty hehe.

Oh and von, F34R T3h ST41k0rz!

Just a quick post to thank all of the heroes and villains that piled into SC last night to make a very enjoyable time (apart from the odd ganking, like 4 heroes piling on top of my stalker just as he used a wakie)

It started off fairly small scale, but i think there must have been at least 16 vills and who knows how many heroes, the battles were intense and great fun. I even had the honour of having about 1500 bounty on my head!

Never had so much fun in a pvp zone yet, and I look forward to more, especially when im actually built for pvp!

Thanks to all who turned up and answered the Call!

As a stalker i loved playing with domis. They look down what I didnt AS, and then the surgical precision that is being a stalker gets even more surgical as we can take our sweet time.

Now playing a domi ive found they are great to team with. Now a lvl 32+team with 4 stalkers and 4 Domies, with all the pets for extra damage, I reckon nothing would stand much of a chance of moving at all, if it does it will be taken down scarily fast by the stalkers with all the time in the world. Now THAT is something I would love to see.

For those of you who liked the previous chapters, heres another.

Chapter 4: Harken to the Call

Location: Port Recluse - Sharkhead Isle

High winds. Lots of shouting. Raised voices. Angry ferry captain. No dockworkers. Deck hands desperately trying to secure the ferry. Sounds of wood splintering, metal crunching. Passengers falling over. More shouting. More angry voices. Ferry tied off. Secure. Passengers departing. Fast. Green faces. Foul smells. Still no dockworkers.

Mime Artiste had been silent for all of this. His face was white, but then it was painted that way. Slipping off the Ferry after all had left. Unaffected by the violent docking. Mime Artiste looked around him. Sharkhead Isle was an industrial wasteland. Warehouses. Factories. Chimneystacks. Smoke. Pollution. Smog. Ash. Steel. Nothing natural. Bad smells, not just from the passengers. Mime Artiste had been told to follow the smell of fish. The fetid stench of it was everywhere. No dockworkers to ask. Mime Artiste started walking along the edge of the docks. Follow the smell Marino had said. Which one?

Location: Captain Petrovich's Shack

Marino had been right. The smell did lead Mime Artiste here. There was something different about this smell. More potent than the ones surrounding it. Mime Artiste wrapped his scarf tightly around his face. Just his black eyes showing between the scarf and his beret. The shack was almost as bad as where he had slept his first night in the Rogue Isles. At least this one had a proper roof. He knocked on the warped wooden door. No response. Odd sound from inside. Snoring. Mime Artiste slipped inside the shack.

Captain Petrovich was fast asleep. Dirty black boots resting up on an old wooden desk. Tilted back in a chair made out of driftwood. Half drunk bottle of rum still clutched to his chest. Pipe dangling from the edges of his mouth. Eye patch slightly askew, revealing the edges of an old scar. Mime Artiste moved round the desk to get closer to him. He reached up to try and take the bottle.
"Wash yarr doin'? Gerrorf me. Arr! It be you! They tol' me they were sendin' a scallywag. You be the one ay? Well don't be thievin' my bottle o' rum yah 'ear. Thievin' lil rapscallions like you should know better than to steal a man's drink! Now what can I do for ye?" The reddened face of the Captain was slightly jovial. Half a bottle of rum helps. Mime Artiste walked softly around the other side of the desk and perched himself on an old wooden pallet.
"Arr now I be a monkey's behind. Ye don't talk do ye. They did tell me, but I be old. Forgets me do. I forgets stuff too much nowadays. Anyways. Gots me a job for ye. Got me a box that needs fetching see? Important box. Also...well an 'idden box. Special box, that this ol' cap'ain needs back. Thing is see, this box is in a difficult place to gets to. I need a thivin' runt like ye to fetch it for me. Summin in it for ye too mind. 'round where that box be buried, they got one o' 'em 'eroes. One of those spandex types. Never could see the appeal o' that stuff misself. Odd bunch them 'eroes I tells ye. You be 'avin to take one of me boats to get there mind. Not a big boat, but she will do. I would be takin' ye there misself, but, well ye can see the state I be in. Barely gots me legs that stay stanin' o' the land. Best nots be tempting the fates to sweep me down to meet ol' Davey now is it?" The captains voice was slurred, but otherwise his accent was clichéd to the point of comical. Like something out of a bad pirate movie.

Mime Artiste sat and listened to the captain for a short while longer, scarf still firmly wrapped around his nose and mouth. The stench was even worse indoors. After a few long tortuous minutes, the Captain had laid out the details. The box was in Siren's Call. No information about the hero. Told to tell the Mime. He would be interested. Mime Artiste left the rank confines of the shack. Breathing in a gulp of air outside didn't help. The stench was everywhere. Time to go treasure hunting.

When Mime Artiste had left and the Captain was sure he was out of earshot he rapped his knuckles on the desk three times. A door opened and the smell grew worse.
"I did what ye asked, but I be feelin' bad 'bout it. Why do I be sending that runt to fetch me cargo when ye be 'opin' he don't be coming back? Makes no sense to me it don't." Captain Petrovich took a long drink from the rum bottle and slammed it back down on his desk. The figure in the shadows stepped forwards into the dim light of the shack. The figure was half human, half shark. He terrified the captain normally. That's what the rum was for.
"He comes back. You get your cargo. He doesn't come back. I make Her look like She has shrimp-brains. Either way, you get your cargo, even if I have to fetch it myself. If he does manage to take out two heroes, survive the Call and come back, well I might just have to resort to Plan B" The voice was raspy, hoarse and guttural.
"What be Plan B then eh? Me barnacles! D'you say two 'eroes?" Captain Petrovich picked up the bottle of rum and drained the last of its contents, tilting back in his chair to extract the last of it. He needed another bottle. Fast.

Location: Siren's Call

Siren's Call. The nautical graveyard of the Isles. Ghostly wrecks. Half submerged in the oily sea. Crumbling War Walls. Demolished buildings. The eerie sound of the un-dead, gasping for air. The great Lighthouse. Historic monument to death and destruction. The rocks. The terrible jagged rocks. Each with a story of its own. The Call was now inhabited by those of the Rogue Isles seeking treasure, seeking a way to the lights of the great Paragon City. Those seeking to prove themselves. Those with nothing to lose.

Mime Artiste's small boat drifted low in the water. Just another abandoned vessel, floating amongst the debris. The furthest beach on the left the Captain had said. Should be around here somewhere. Amongst all this debris, it was little wonder that something could stay hidden for this long. Laughter. A girlish giggle of delight. Mime Artiste's attention snapped towards it. He knew that giggle. It was one of them .

"Get her!"
"Take her down!"
"Ack!"
"Now we're mad!"
Explosions. The wet slapping sound of bodies hitting concrete. Silence. That giggle again.
"You big sillies never learn do you? You just can't hurt me in here. And when Bubbly Wubbly says you go splat now. You go splat! He he he!" The young girlish voice carried over to Mime Artiste. The Captain was right. There was something in it for him. Beaching the boat further up the beach, Mime Artiste quickly ran onto the grass. Footprints were too obvious on sand. Treading carefully along the grass bank, Mime Artiste got a clear look at his target. Bubbly Wubbly was young for a hero, even by today's standards. She was still quite short too, just over five feet tall. Her bouncy blonde hair was up in pigtails, tied up with pink scrunches. Her cheerleader outfit was pristine, and still as bright pink as when Mime Artiste had first seen her all that time ago. It was her who had used one of her very own force bubbles to send Mime Artiste flying. She stood on the beach alone. Arms folded. Big grin. Easy to feel safe when you're surrounded by your own little force field. Mime Artiste's cold stare grew colder. She was on the furthest beach to the left. The Captain's box was close by, somewhere. Then she started singing. Badly.

Two limp bodies suddenly dropped out of the sky. One fell directly on top of Bubbly Wubbly, but harmlessly slid off her force field. The other lay twitching. His body convulsing in the macabre dance of the dead.
"Big meanie! What you do that for?" Bubbly Wubby shook her little fist in the air quickly before she sent a short burst of energy from her hands sending the bodies away from her. Her hands glowed with a pink aura briefly as she did this. She liked pink.
"Sorry Bubble-head. Just some target practice" said a strong male voice from the air.
"Don't call me Bubble-head! I don't have to defend you when you get in over your head! Remember that!" Her girlish voice sounded angry now. She sounded like a five year-old having a tantrum, a super powered tantrum. A tall male figure landed softly near her. His arms and legs were robotic. The sharp crackle of electricity pulsed around them. Mime Artiste knew this one too. Kada; another one of them . The memory of being trapped in that cage of electricity made his hair stand on end. Mime Artiste stayed hidden. There were two in the bush. Now to get one in the hand.

A popping sound. Figure appearing next to Kada. Rush of wind. Kada knocked back. Popping sound. Figure gone. Another popping sound. This time away from the beach.
"Those dam Tsoo Sorcerors! This ones mine!" Kada popped himself up onto his feet and went speeding off to find the Tsoo Sorcerer that had knocked him down. Kada ran straight past where Mime Artiste was hiding. Mime Artiste turned and followed him. Bubbly Wubbly had stayed put.

Kada caught the Tsoo in a tesla cage before he could teleport away again. Trapped with no means of escape, the Sorcerer was helpless. Kada sauntered towards him. He could take his time with this one. Kada sent small jolts of electricity sparking towards the Sorcerer. The pain showing on his twisting face. His body convulsing. Kada increased the voltage to lethal levels. The body gave a final spasm. Gone.
"That just wasn't as fun as it should have been. Ah well" Kada went to turn away from the lifeless body but one of his legs malfunctioned. Hydraulic fluid was leaking out. The ground was stained with it. Kada looked down. Some of the wires were loose. His robotic legs having lost all pressure gave way. He landed hard on the ground, unable to get himself back up. Mime Artiste appeared from the shadows. A length of red electrical wire held between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.
"What in Paragon are you? How did you sneak up on me like that?" Kada's previously strong voice was now nervous. He knew this guy. But from where?
Mime Artiste held the long red wire aloft in his left hand. He then raised his right and made an odd gesture. Kada knew that gesture. He had done it a thousand times. Wire clippers. As Mime Artiste made this gesture a small length of the wire fell to the ground. The rest remained in his left hand. Kada remembered now. Mime Artiste approached Kada with caution. Kada went to raise his arms up, but these were malfunctioning too. Hydraulic fluid was leaking from his arms now, the ground saturated now. He was helpless. Trapped. Kada knew what happened to those who were trapped. Mime Artiste got round behind Kada. Pulling the long red wire taut, he garrotted Kada, who couldn't even struggle, just lie still. Gasping for air, desperate, suffering. Until the suffering ended, his life force sparking no more.

Bubbly Wubbly still stood in her bubble, oblivious. Kada could look after himself with just one, normally. Looking around for any other signs of trouble, she noticed a trail of footprints leading towards her. These weren't her prints. These were too small, even for her. That and there was no high heel impression. Slightly panicked she sent forth bolts of energy from her hands in the direction of the footprints. When she did this, she had to drop her force field briefly, and quickly closed it back up again. One of the bolts had caught the end of Mime Artiste's scarf and revealed him standing there, just a few feet away from her. His black eyes met hers and she stood frozen, too scared to leave the safety of her bubble. Mime Artiste had one of Kada's robotic hands. Curling the metal fingers into a fist, Mime Artiste used it to knock on the wall of her force field. It made a quiet clinking sound. Putting the hand in his black trouser pocket, Mime Artiste used his own gloved hand to knock. An even quieter clinking sound this time. Bubbly Wubbly realised that he was just testing her bubble. All she had to do was stay inside it. At least until backup arrived. She was a hero after all. Backup always arrived for heroes, didn't it? Mime Artiste tilted his head slightly and paused. Raising his white-gloved hands up together, his index fingers pointing outwards, the tips touching the edge of the force field. Mime Artiste then drew his hands apart, drawing a straight line outwards. Hands about three feet apart now, he drew his hands downwards, towards the floor. Straightening himself out again, Mime Artiste raised his left hand into a fist about waist height and seemed to be grabbing hold of something. Lowering his hand down with a slight angle, Mime Artiste then drew the hand towards him, as if opening a door. Mime Artiste took two steps forward, into the bubble. Bubbly Wubbly stood stupefied. How? What had just happened? What was going to happen next? Mime Artiste withdrew Kada's robotic hand from his pocket and closed its cold metal fingers around her throat. Gasping for air she tried fighting back. Her flailing fists never landed. Her struggles became weaker and weaker. Finally she went limp. Her blood shot eyes stared directly into the face of her killer. Her bubbly personality didn't show on her face any more, just tiny bubbles of blood from her last bloody gasps of air as she died. Her last thought was "Don't I know this guy from somewhere?"

Find the box. Quickly. Leave. Get out of here. Backup would be here soon. Searching around Mime Artiste noticed a metallic tip sticking out of a pile of rubble. It shone in the sunlight. It was gold. Clearing the rubble away uncovered several objects. The one that held Mime Artiste's attention was the largest one. A large gilded chest almost as big as he was. Faded stencilled letters read "e...rov...ch" This was the one he was after. It had a heavy-duty padlock on it. No chance to sneak a look inside it before he got it back to Captain Petrovich. Stepping away from the chest and looking around, Mime Artiste looks around him. Tilting his head slightly he raises a white-gloved hand to his chin, absentmindedly stroking his handlebar moustache. This thing is nearly as big as he is. How exactly, did the Captain expect him to get it out?

As an /SR I dont think i ever ran off to rehide after getting placate at lvl 12. Now even without eldue going, i can often stand in the middle of a big mob and still get back into hide. Usually im on the edges of the mob wiping up and trying to find any pesky mobs that need to be taken out fast. Always does amuse me when I see another stalker run off in order to get back into hide though. But at the end of the day, If i wanna get back into hide when placate isnt up, then i still have to stop attacking for 10 seconds. Just cos I dont run off doesnt mean im doing any damage in that time. Usually though ile just get scrappy in large mobs and use placate as it comes up. If im going against EBs and such, then ile often just stand there and wait for it as AS really does outdamage anything else we can do (standing there is awesome fun with SR esp in front of a ballistae using repulsion that no one else can get close to )

Well I dueled my Merc/traps MM friend last night as part of an sg event. I didnt allow him to fully get set up to start, but he did have all of his troops out and had laid down a triage beacon and caltrops by the time i found him. Admittidly an MM isnt his fave AT to duel with, and i dont think he used every trick he had to his advantage.

After popping elude I managed to use ToF, placate and soul storm to good effect, causing chaos mostly, and managed to get enough of his troops out of the way to then wittle his HP down, and i think i never actually got an AS off on him, possibly once or twice on a minion that had strayed too far from the pack. I just managed to defeat him before elude crashed, and then had to leg it. THen thanks to the joy of SS I got elude back up in the 10 mins (hasten and quickness ftw!) and got him another 2 times.

However I do feel that if he had been on form, I probably wouldnt have stood a chance, esp with trip mines, seeker drones, tactics, caltrops and force field generators. I think in future, if i go against an MM, ile def be taking TP foe, seems about the only logical way to really get one over on all types of MM.

Thanks for all the tips on how to take out MMs though, was usefull!

I liked it, especially the ending.

More Please!

Sorry about the delay between the chapters, but things have been hectic lately. Hope you like the next chapter. More will be coming soon.

Chapter 3: Sol Falling

Location: Devil's Coat Tails' Ferry Landing - Cap Au Diable

Salty sea air. Slight chill to the wind. Gentle rocking of the boat as passengers depart. Angry voices. Protestors. Rough looking. Homespun clothes. Luddites. Red and white placards. Clever slogans. Chants. Songs. Crowd of onlookers.
"Dr Aeon must be stopped!"
"Death to the Doctor!"
"Check out our leaflets!"
Onlookers reluctantly took leaflets and listened to the mad ramblings of the protestors. Printed leaflets on pristine white paper. Professional looking.
"Hey this was printed by Alpha On! Don't you losers know that's a division of Aeon Corp!"
"Hah! You losers got a website too?"
Bored crowd. Moving away. Suddenly a smoke grenade explodes in the middle of the protestors. A squad of Seers and Blood Widows led by a Fortunata Mistress in their distinctive long red-leather coats had arrived. Onlookers staying to watch the protestors get cut down. Massacre. Luddites firing feeble crossbow bolts. Not one bolt hitting its mark. A Blood Widow eviscerates the leader of the protestors in a smooth slice with her blade. Blood pooling on the floor. One protestor slips. The attackers continue, unhindered.

Mime Artiste watching in the shadows. The grace of the Widows is beautiful to see. Reminds him of his own training. Old memories of blood and pain come back. Time to move on. The protestors are all but cut down now. The Fortunata Mistress is standing slightly back, overseeing the proceedings, but in the way of his exit route. Sneaking past people is easy though, when they don't want to see you. Treading gently, quietly. Just stepping behind the back of the Mistress. Almost past her. Suddenly she turns on her heel and grabs hold of his scarf. Mime Artiste stops and looks up.
"Of course I can see you little one. We Fortunata's are not so easy to sneak past. Remember that. I have a message for you from Fortunata Seer Marino. Find her in her office at the airstrip. Now" The voice seemed to come from inside Mime Artiste's mind. At least, he never saw her lips move. The Mistress let his scarf go, and turned back to the action. One protestor was left. His face twisted in pain. Two Seers were toying with him, slowly tearing his mind apart.

Location: Cap Au Diable Airport

Private Planes. Arachnos Fliers. Black Helicopters. Large Hangers. Cargo Containers. Arachnos troops moving around. Guards on patrol. No one noticed the shadow. Small back office in one of the hangers. 'Marino' stencilled on a brass plaque on the door. Only sign of anything official in the whole hangar.
"Come in" Came the soft female voice. Too soft. Almost seductive. Mime Artiste had only just put his hand on the handle when this was said. He hadn't made a sound. He opened the door and walked in, slightly wary. A pristine office. Clear desk. Slight smell of polish. Same as Kalinda's office.
"Glad you took heed of my message. Sorry about having to deliver it like that, but after a while kidnapping people gets awfully tiresome." No humour showed on her delicate features as she said this. She remained sitting upright in her high backed chair.
"My name is Pia Marino, and I believe we have something of a mutual interest in a certain individual; Sol Rising" The name caught Mime Artiste's attention...

That fateful day. Atlas Park. The taunting. The pain. The humiliation. Unable to move. Feet surrounded by a ring of fire. Laughing faces. Spandex clad heroes. Costume blended to look like a sunrise. Symbol of the Sun emblazoned upon his chest. Can't move. Too much heat.

"So you do remember; good." Seer Marino's soft voice was now laced with sympathy. Mime Artiste's painted face showed no emotion. Seer Marino knew his mind wasn't so calm.
"My brother Paulo was sent long ago to investigate a warehouse believed to be inhabited by members of The Lost. A fire started and killed many Arachnos troops. A good friend of mine, a fellow Seer, was there along with my brother. She survived, in a sense, and I have not seen my brother since. I learnt however that it wasn't The Lost who started that fire; it was a 'Hero' called Sol Arium. In condition for my future compliance, Lord Recluse captured Sol Arium and tortured him to death. His ghost now belongs to Lord Recluse. Personally I wish to continue to see him suffer, even after his death. Rising Sol is the son of Sol Arium." Seer Marino's voice verged on the edge of breaking as she said this. Her voice only gaining strength as she spoke of wanting to see him suffer. Mime Artiste remained still, listening intently.
"Rising Sol has been sent to patrol somewhere we can get you into quite easily; Bloody Bay. I thought you might enjoy paying him a visit while he is there." Seer Marino smiled at this. It brightened up her previously dark face. Mime Artiste didn't smile, his painted face remaining unchanged. As a response he simply opened the door and walked out. Two Blood Widows met Mime Artiste outside the door. He hadn't heard their arrival. No words were spoken. Mime Artiste just followed them to a black helicopter that was ready and waiting.

Location: Arachnos Base - Bloody Bay

The Flier landed smoothly. Its outer hatch opened, but the motor was kept running. The pilot had remained silent for the flight. Mime Artiste exited the flier, flipping his scarf over his shoulder as he did.
"Ah welcome Mr Artiste. I am Operative Oudot. I oversee operations here in Bloody Bay. I understand you are here to help us out with a certain problem in the Green Nugget area. If you would like to take a few minutes to learn about the history of Bloody Bay I think it would...umm...err...what was I doing?" Operative Oudot looked puzzled. Hadn't he just been talking to someone? He looked around, but saw no one around except the pilot inside the Flier. He looked down at his clipboard. A page had been torn off from the top leaving just a torn slip inside the clasp. Oudot shrugged and went about the rest of his day.

Location: Green Nugget - Bloody Bay

Deserted Shops. Eerie silence. Rubbish blowing about in the wind. Strange shapes visible in the distance. Shivans. Odd glow around them. Slow. Brainless. Alien. Mime Artiste stood silently in the shadows of an alley by an abandoned shop. Moving out of the alley something caught Mime Artiste's eye. The faded sign on the front of the shop; 'Ye Olde Magick Shoppe' Mime Artiste's mind suddenly flashed with a long-repressed memory...

Pretty lights in the sky. Stars? Daytime. Odd. Sense of unease. People looking up. Tugging at a black trouser leg. Familiar face looking down. Old face. Worried face. Black top hat. Black silk cloak. Red lining. Smart suit. Smell of old smoke. Air raid sirens blaring. A meteor shower? Deafening noise. Explosions. Flying rubble. Green glow. Panic. Screaming. Being picked up and taken inside. Rushing. Gather things. Be Quick. Get out. Running. Short legs not moving fast enough. Falling. Pain. Gravel embedded in knee. Crying. Left behind. Crying louder. Picked up. Held tight in strong arms. Smell of flour. Fresh Bread. The Baker from next door. Boarding small boat. Scared. Stench of fear. Paragon City. Must get to Paragon City. Safe. It's safe there. No, I haven't seen him. He will be fine. We will find him. I promise.

Mime Artiste knew this place. It had been home. Now it was just a hollow shell. Boarded up and barren. No life within it. A pale shadow of its former self. Like him.
Mime Artiste was brought out of his silent reverie by the sound of footsteps approaching. The distinctive sound of Longbow boots. Mime Artiste stepped back into the shadows. Silent. Waiting.

Rising Sol was being punished. At least that's how he saw it. So what if he had missed a few fireballs? The fire usually got put out by someone soon enough anway. Bloody Bay wasn't a threat to Paragon. A bunch of dim-witted alien-skeleton things and the odd ghost. He had been sent here to 'further his abilities', nice way of saying 'punishment' if you asked him. Not that anyone did. No one ever listened to him. Always telling him what to do. It was just so unfair. So here he was, just lazily flying around, trying not to let the boredom get the best of him. Last time it did he had ended up picking a fight with one of the Shivans. His head still hurt sometimes.

A shrill, ear-splitting scream snapped him out of his internal mutterings. It shocked him so much he nearly fell out of the sky. It came from just below him. He flew down to investigate. Hovering just above the ground he could see a lone Longbow Rifleman in the middle of a small park. His arms covering his face. Violently trembling and screaming. Endlessly screaming. No one around near him. Had he been attacked by one of the Shivans? One of those Circle of Thorns ghosts? Nothing was around though. Rising Sol landed and rushed straight to the Rifleman, and knelt down beside him. He reached out to touch the Rifleman when suddenly his arm gave a sickening snap. His arm exploded in a tremendous rush of pain. Nausea swept over him. He just managed to look down and see bone protruding from his arm, blood spurting out in an arterial torrent. The still trembling Rifleman began screaming again with renewed vigour. A soft hand touched Rising Sols' shoulder, as he writhed around on his knees in pain on the floor. He looked up to see Mime Artiste's painted white face staring at him over his shoulder.
"You? But...Didn't..." His words were lost in the sound of the still-screaming Rifleman. He never got to finish his sentence. Mime Artiste snapped his neck in one fluid motion. Rising Sol keeled over. His body now lifeless. No fire emanated from his hands. Snuffed out. Cold. Rising Sol was going to be with his father now. The knowledge of his misdeeds being his undoing, would bind his soul to this world. Rising Sol would become a servant of Lord Recluse, just like his father.
Mime Artiste left the Rifleman trembling in a pitiful heap, and disappeared into the shadows once more.

The Flier Pilot jumped when he felt the tap on his leg. The motor was still running so he quickly shut the hatch and took off. Operative Oudot looked up when he saw the Flier departing. He couldn't remember if one was even scheduled for the day. He still hadn't found the missing page from his manifest. Oudot had been doing this job long enough to know that sometimes, asking too many questions often led to too few answers.

Location: Cap Au Diable Airport

Seer Marino hadn't felt Mime Artiste coming this time. This made her smile. He was learning.
"I hope that you enjoyed doing that as much as I enjoyed seeing it. Well of course you did. A nice touch leaving that snivelling Longbow alive. You might just be what She said you were. I certainly hope so" Seer Marino suddenly realised she was flirting with Mime Artiste. Abruptly she straightened herself up and said in a slightly more authoritative voice "There is someone else who you will be interested in meeting. Captain Petrovich. Not normally someone we deal with, but he's brutal, ruthless and cunning, probably why he is on our radar. He is stationed on Sharkhead Isle near the docks. Follow the smell of rotten fish. You should find him. I do hope I see you again Mime Artiste. Good Luck." Seer Marino scolded herself again for flirting. Mime Artiste went to leave, and just as he was about to disappear out the door, he turned and blew her a kiss. Seer Marino blushed. She was sure she could feel the soft tender caress of lips upon her cheek.

Mime Artiste stuck to the shadows and alleyways of Cap Au Diable. People here were too preoccupied to notice him. He kept hearing snatches of conversation about gremlins and electricity, of the electrics playing up and a big ball of lightning being seen around one of the parks. Hushed mutterings about the Luddites being right all along. The word 'Deathsurge' kept coming up. Mime Artiste kept walking. A slight spring in his normally sombre step. Seer Marino was right. He had enjoyed it. He was too busy thinking about what that meant to notice his hair standing on end. The sound of a fight was close by. Mime Artiste stood in the shadows and watched the action. A ragtag group were battling with what looked to be living electricity. A manically grinning girl with orange dreadlocks floated above the action, seemingly sending jolts of energy into the other combatants. Mime Artiste walked on. Had he just seen a group of villains working together? And was that horde of zombies really taking orders from the girl with little fairy wings? Mime Artiste looked back, blinked twice and shook his head. He was beginning to like the Rouge Isles. Continuing on quietly, he made his way towards the Sharkhead Isle Ferry. Slipping on board silently, and without paying, he stood on the top deck and looked back over the shore. If Bloody Bay or Paragon City was no longer home, maybe the Rogue Isles could be.

Well this is my current build atm

1 - ice block
1 - psi dart
2 - Mental Blast
4 - Frostbite (probs later respec to chillblain)
6 - AA
8 - Hasten
10 - Mental Blast
12 - Ice slick (FTW)
14 - SS
16 - Psy scream
18 - Asault
20 - Drain Psyche (will soon 6 slot with 2 acc 2 rch 2 endmod, should hopefully help me with my end issues if i dont take stam)
22 - Tactics
24 - Hurdle/Shiver
26 - Glacier
28 - Subdue/Health?/Swift
30 - Stamina/Vengeance
32 - Jack Frost
35 - not sure yet, will see whether or not i take stam.
38 - PSW (cant wait!)
41 - Powersink (with this and DS could i then spec out of stamina?)
44 - Charged Armour (never heard a good thing about the aoes)
47 - Mu Guardian (heal bot)
49 - Somehthing or other

I mostly wanna stay in melee range though to open will be using ice slick and then jumping in and firing off DS). Atm its mostly for PvE but chances are ile venture into the pvp zones at some point for the fun of it.

I know everyones playstyles vary greatly and no two ppl will likely agree, but thats kind of the point, i wanna read your experiences and then make up my own mind.

Thanks all.