Supercape

Lament Elves, again! Whom has shown me the path? A good question! Do I have a good answer? Of course I do! In that the answer will be delivered goodly and well, nay, resplendent! But will the answer be true....ah! Never mind that! Delivery is all! "Verily and forsooth, I was not invited, but neither did any sign or voice tell me I was barred! Fool, man, and God....all may wander where they are univinted if they know not that invitation was requisite!" he said, bowing deeply. "The path was shown to me twofold! First, the lights of the mist, then, as I grow closer, by your marvelous melodies! Surely you must understand my ear could not ignore such harmony!" he said as graciously as he could muster. "And why do a tread this path? Why, I come in search of lost souls! Children gone missing, and I understand not why, nor whence, nor wither?" he said, hoping the delivery of his speech was better than its grammatical accuracy.

GM "We didn't know" said the Wall, surprised that someone was actually listening to him. Even with the ear of Justice, he was not an eloquent man, however. "We got good deal. Come here, build the centre, get paid. Illegal, cash in hand, but better than nothing. We get a chance in America" he explained, to the punctuation of Kidd's tutting. "Then we found out Blowfish was boss. He turned the screws. Make us work harder, less money, starts to threaten us with one hand, tempt us with the other. Finds rooms for our families here. Then says we work for him or it all stops" he said. "Most of us joined him, turned to crime. But not me. Not us" he indicated his fellows. "We gonna show him you don't mess with us...." He pointed to the dynamite. "Next time Blowfish come in here, he gonna be real acquianted with the building...."

GM Setho did indeed shut up. The mad Lemurian sorcerer was indeed master of many strange Eldritch arts honed over countless ancient years (if they could even be counted so, given how his life was woven in with the tunnels of the Magic Mesa). His flesh was iron, steel, its scales enchanted beyond anything organic. This resilience stopped his head flying off his shoulders. It stopped him from being knocked out with one blow. But it did shut him up. And more than that, he went flying across the temples floor to land with sickening crunch into the walls. For a moment, the force of the impact threatened to collapse the wall, but it was for the most part sturdy. Still, Setho was not quite so lucky. He lay in a crumpled heap, silent, but his black reptillian eyes still gazed at the humans...

It does indeed hit! Tough Save: 1d20+10 13 and its a weak save, causing him to be staggered and dazed, and knocked back rather hard - another tough save Knockback Tough Save: 1d20+10 17 which also gives him a bruise! Meaning Venomax is up!

Lament Doodoo-be doo doo dah duum! sang Lament in his head, trying to work out lyrics to the song as he tapped his foot, his mind wheeling through half remembered tales of voodoo, myth, legend, and elves. Wo-ven Fates By Moonlight Spun he concluded in his head. Wait! "Wo-ven Fates By Moonlight Spun!" he had sang out loud down the hole. And more, for he had picked up a pair of broken roots and was bashing out a little rhythmn along with his tune. Ah well...'twas a most musical evening, and best not to cry over the free expression of the artistic soul! Still singing along, playing his improvised drums, he strode as confidentally as he could manage onwards.

Stealth: 1d20+8 9 it may be academic what he chooses!

GM The Wall pointyed up. "The refugees..." And he was half right at least. Whilst not completely finished, there had been some immigrants in the floors above. Legal, perhaps. Illegal, perhaps. Quite probably in a grey area in between the two. Squatters, even. "We ain'ta boom this building with our people in it" he explained. "We just want to bring it down. With Blowfish inside. He makes slaves of us" he said, nastily. He turned his hands as if wringing the neck of Blowfish. It looked like he wouldn't have much difficulty at all. "You gets what you deserves..." muttered Kidd. But not too loudly. The Wall picked up the dynamite. "We built this place with our bare hands. We can bring it down twice as easy. Better that than Blowfish gets his hands into us!"

Lament Lament took at least some pity on the troll. It hd suffered enough, and the race was one. Mayhap the troll would chew on the bones of some unlucky fellow in the future and he would regret his decision; but for now, he dispelled the void in its lungs, allowing it to breathe once more. Now then...that was a tree! Would he dare enter! Of course! For fear would not stop him! Afraid he was, surely, but courage, dear fellow! COURAGE! Besides, he could hardly stop the story at this point. And so, with some caution, he stepped into the tree to see what he might find...

GM The four Mexicans looked at the wall for guidance. Brave, angry fools, but the fact that "the signal" could be sent was enough to make them pause. Kidd started forward, hand on his shotgun, another reaching for his zip ties. He was cautious...he didn't seem scared of them, just the Wall. And the Wall interjected, standing between Justice and Detective Kidd, his men behind him. "What do you mean, bring the place down?" he said,a angrily. "You gonna bomb us? Make big boom?" he asked. His command of the English (or American, depending on your perspective) language was not great. One got the feeling his command of thinking at all was not exactly exemplary. He smacked one fist into one palm. "With all these people in it?"

Sgt Shark(s) "Sharks?" spluttered Sgt Shark, sniffing the air. Indeed. The smell of sharks was there, and he was rather annoyed he had missed. Stay Frosty! he had the funny feeling that Se Devil's smell was affecting him. She was hideous, of course. But the smell.... One of the strangest mutations he had acquired after being bitten by a radioactive shark was the ability to speak shark. He took the communicator from his mouth, and instead bellowed through the water, in Shark.... "Bretheren Shark! Stay your fight unless you wish to feel my teeth on your flesh! We are friends if you wish it, but feircesome fangs if you wish to be our foes!!!!"

Notice Roll: 1d20+13 15 although it might be academic! For reference, Sgt Shark has low light vision, and accurate acute olfactory sense. Both are extended 1 (x10 range). Also, his uncanny direction sense is keeping track of their path!

Lament "Lost for words! Breathless in anticipation! The crowd applauds!" said Lament to the universe, hands raised to acknowledge the Gods themselves thunderous accolades. He gave a mighty bow that threatened to snap his spine in two. Now, he did not want to kill the Troll. But still, he had a race to win, and the advantage was his! He kept the void bubbling inside the trolls lungs - for a moment at least - and turned to the road of lights. "The way forth be illuminated! Yonder, I venture!" he called to the heavens. And with that, he ran with full speed.

Yes, suffocate can be! So Lament will keep that up as a sustained duration now, and keep running. Hopefully the half speed will help!

GM The men started to reach for the weapons, as instinct kicked in. But in a moment, they realised that they had the lost the initiative. Justice had the drop on them, and the Justice blaster was pointed their way. And so was Detective Kidd's shotgun, as he followed Justice. They dropped their guns and raised their hands. At least, four of them did. The Wall snarled and clenched his fist. "That pea shooter ain't gonna stop me" he said, boldly, to Justice. "And that boom stick is gonna get shoved upa your...." "Easy big fellow. Nothings gettings shoved in me. Not before I unload on you...." replied Kidd. One of the Mexicans sniggered at the unwitting innuendo. Kidd lost his cool and swung the shotgun at him, "any more of your tongue and you'll get it right in the face!" he snarled, again missing the innuendo. It was by immense effort of will that none of the Mexicans collapsed in a fit of hooting laughter. The Wall kept more sober, although you could see him surpressing laughter. "Is just the two of you? None of your cavalry?" he asked, trying to size up the seriousness of the situation.

Sure lets use that, but hold that action for a bit of banter. One point of clarification; if they move as a group, any particular target?

GM "It makes sense" agreed Sonny Cho, pondering the words of Giang. "If your father wanted to be independent of Sin, I am sure he would want the same from the Hornet. Arguably, more so. The Hornet, as far as I can see, has no redeeming features at all" "Would you...ah....this is delicate" he said, "be able to reach out to your father or your step siblings?" he asked politely. "Its a delicate game here in Hong Kong. The pieces are being laid out in an intricate pattern. Hard to see, hard to see" he mused. "Even if the Hornet goes, there will still be a vaccuum amongst the underworld. And, for myself, I can never see a Hong Kong - or anywhere - without some underworld. It would be, I think, wisest to try and ensure that the underworld is relatively contained, relatively benign. And in any case, I do not wish a war here. This requires a delicate touch..." "The pieces are being laid out, mmm....like Go. You are familiar with the game?" he asked. "Like Go. Hong Kong Go..."

OOC for this

GM December 17th, 2018 Wales Being Wales, it was, predictably raining. True, at this time of year it could have been snowing, but so far the white had not fallen, and not settled. It was a tepid day, with grey overcast skies and a dull wetness to the atmosphere. The green valleys were brown and muddy, and the trees had largely shed their leaves. There was still the smell of fertile land, and the hills were dotted with sheep and cows chewing the cud. 'Twas here, countless millenia ago, after the last Ice age, that Morgen the immortal was born, and met Dreadnought and here she had lain in stasis. And it was here that there was, allegedly, trouble. 'Twas the village of Wrottin Pontyggub that she had gone to, closest it seemed to her ancient settlement. Wrottin Pontygubb was indeed an ancient village, stuffed to the brim full of myths and legends and history. Some of the history might even have been true. She had arrived a few months ago, keen to understand the history of this place. And then she had dissapeared. People now whispered of ghosts and witches and all sorts of spooky spookiness, and Morgen, it seemed, was the go - to - person to blame!

Ronin Ronin pulled up behind Doctor Thorne. He didn't know jack about spells and voodoo and...well, whatever Doctor Thorne knew. But he knew-ass kicking. And he was ready to do just that. If needed. He got out of the car, Trenchcoat flapping, his Street Special tucked in the holster, his body armour strapped on. "Sure thing" he said, studying the Factory whilst Doctor Thorne contemplated the "voodoo hoodoo shooby-dooby-doo" magic stuff that he honestly had no idea about. Meanwhile, the solider in him was studying the building carefully. He been bomb disposal and infintry. He didn't want some booby trap exploding in their faces. He had seen some real mess from that. On the other hand, he had a few home made explosives in the back of his truck and a timer. "Just tell me what to kick, shoot, or blow up, and I'm all there, baby" he said to Dr Thorne.

GM "Yeah, he hangs around at this odd private club. Really private" answered Detective Wu, motioning the Scarab into his police car. He soon set off down the busy roads of Hong Kong, with all its sights, sounds, and smells, where rich and poor mingled. There were bright lights and hobo's both. It was cramped, and the traffic was slow, but Detective Wu resisted turning on the sirens. He didn't want to draw attention, although he could not resist some horn-sounding now and again. Eventually he pulled up outside the Club Immortus, Hong Kong. "Don't know why they called it that" he pointed to the sign. "Its only be open for a few years. Guess they want to give the impression it will be open forever" he suggested. "In any case, its a private club. Clean record. Drinks and food for members only. You'd think that would mean triad around here, but as far as we can tell, they don't touch the place" he explained. "Still, best be on your guard" he added, patting his jacket where he had a service automatic in a holster. "I guess you don't go round packing guns, but....well, whatever you do do, be prepared to do it...." he added. He knocked on the door. "Detective Wu! Hong Kong Police Department. I'm looking for Sonny Cho....!"

So keeping on running but also using Suffocate 5 (Extra: Cloud) power, which should linger for the next round. If he fails the save, Lament will keep the effect going with sustained duration.

Lament A small victory is better than no victory at all! Although, in truth, a total victory is better than a small one, most Verily! Things could be worse. they could be better, too. Luther never really thought the glass was galf full, and never half full. He just wondered what delicious liquid was in the glass, and how much the glass sparkled deliciously. He was running, but that might not be enough! What other trick could I pull off! I am a MASTER SHOWMAN after all! He inhaled deeply, forcing the parastic void into his lungs, and then breathed out. A cloud of oily blackness filled the air, intent on sucking out the wind from any that passed. He ran onwards, the blackness lingering in a malign cloud for a few moments...

Round 1 20 - Setho - Unharmed 17 - Lemurians [3] - Unharmed 16 - Dust Devil - 3 HP 4 - VMX - Unharmed - 1 HP So to start of, Setho will throw a magic blast at the Dust Devil Magic Blast: 1d20+10 26 which hits, causing a DC 25 Tough Save For his move action, he will...do something.... The Lemurians are delaying action, more keen to let the humans do the dirty work. Meaning Dust Devil is up!

GM Kidd muttered inaudibly at Justice's description of her gun. "We gotta stop them. Ill agree with that" he said, not willing to go the extra mile. Whilst he did not have any qualms about shooting up filthy Mexicans, he didn't seem to need to do it either. "If it works, it works" he concluded and conceded. "And I'm guessing you ain't going to have it any other way. I'm not scared of their guns, but the Wall has fists as big as my head. And I don't want my pretty face mushed up" he explained. He slowly cocked his shotgun. "So lets do this together. Ill only shoot if I have to..." he said, almost glum.

Lament Maybe he wasn't such a jolly troll after all! He wracked his brains about trolls. What did he know? Not much. Norse, probably. Scared of lightning, perhaps. Lived under bridges. Bah! I don't know what is real myth and false myth....! he concluded to himself, in a nonsensical epiphany. What was clear was that he wasn't going to win in a race. His legs were much shorter. He would have to use brains, not brawn, to win this! The psychic power of the void crept into his brain, and the ether around them. From the mist and fog ahead, in front of the troll, an illusion appeared. Tumbling out of the dark and obscured, a mound of dead trolls! Charred and burnt, contorted in agony, bodies distorted, faces fixed in abject fear!