Supercape

GM "Giving up? That is precisely what I will never do" replied Finnigan, for the first time with anger in his voice. He raised a clenched fist. "Never!" "If you stop me, you may very well kill me" he said, calming down and giving Justice sad eyes. "Or worse. A corpse rotting away, condemned to perpetual torment, unloved and forgotten under dust and stone! Do you call that Justice?" "Bah, now is the time for you to decide! Do you wish to stop me, or are you willing for the odd ring to be stolen? The odd wallet to be emptied? What, at the end of the day, do you, as judge, jury, and executioner, think is JUSTICE?"

Happy to roll with whatever you guys wish from here. Certainly a very interesting position! Ill throw out the option anywhere in this thread for Dust Devil to spend an HP on the inspiration use, and due to the Magic Mesa and his back story, get a particularly souped up answer. That can be narrated however you wish! (such as traversing the desert of infinity via the door of dreams etc etc) Sorry, mispost wrong thread please ignore!

GM "Hey, I'm right here, you know...!" said an indignant Mr. Sting. Abdul was slower to respond, thanks to blood loss and poisoning. "You can leave our knifey friend here" he said, indicating Mr. Sting "for all I care. Perhaps a few spears will teach him a lesson!" "But as wonderful as the past is to see, I for one do not think we will last long in a jungle. This is ancient times. The Human Race has not even evolved yet!" he explained. "Can we please go back to the Mesa?" he asked, and he was both contrite and pleading in his tone. As for the Lemurian riders, they continued their alien banter, wondering which way to turn. Dust Devil had been suitably vague in his answers, and they were suitably uncertain about what to do, other than click "Setho!" again, jabbing the spears everywhere, apparently insisting on greater accuracy. Whatever else, they were apparently very keen to find the mad sorcerer, and it seemed very keen to stick their spears in him...

Just checking is it Rev up?

GM The Sonic blast hit Yasser square on with full force. On any other man, it would have broken ribs and quite possibly more. But in Yassre's case, the sonic energy sent fizzing sparks to every point of the compass (and, given the hyperdimensional lensing of such esoteric energy, that may well have been more than four). Yasser flew across the room and landed on some rather expensive Persian cushions. "I will....never....surrender! I....am....DAKA MAN!" he mumbled, proudly. The fact that his eyes were pointing in different locations did lessen the magnificence of his proclamation. And with that, he fell unconscious. Meanwhile, the Scarab could hear the sound of his cronies boots on the floors and stairs, advancing on her position. And she could see the corrupted energy of Yasser fizzing, sparking, escalating. No longer held back by his mind, they looked like they were growing increasingly uncontrolled!

And Yassers Tough Save: Tough Save: 1d20+9 10 vs DC 27! I believe that is a KO! Stuff happening IC!

Snakebite "I would love to tell you why" replied Cassie. "But I honestly don't know...." She studied the ring again. "A curse, I think. I woke up from one of my trances with it bound to my finger. I can't get it off. I mean, maybe I could cut my finger off but I am rather attached to having all my digits. It would make playing the piano real hard..." "It gets warm, even hot, around...well, like you say, when something crazy happens. But other than that, I'm don't know...." she mused. "I would love to get rid of it. I have a feeling if we can break the curse of the sacrifice...well...it's more of a hope than a feeling" she conceded. "In any case, if we are going to get the sacrifice right, we need those ingredients. Problem number one. If we need to hike to the nearest village, then to the nearest village we need to go. Unless they are stored in those jars down in the temple. Faster, for sure. Not sure if its safer...."

You may have been asking for medicine skill (as SB has JoT) in which case Ill take 10 for a 13 result (as per skill section)? But if an INT roll is needed...! INT / Medicine: 1d20+3 8

GM "Bah! Magical heroes? Dealing in black magic? Who do you suggest, I wonder? Eldritch? Nick Cimitiere? Phantom? Hah! None would touch what sustains me. Maybe you would rather I go to some foolish pretender like Rene DeSaens?" he mocked, full of bitterness. He continued shuffling, slow. Whatever other dark sorcery propelled him, his body remained weak. "I...." he paused. "Would not use children as a shield. I am would not inflict my curse on anybody, nay, even to save their life" he muttered. "My drive to survive is strong, and no doubt you dissaprove of much of what I have done to survive. But there are something I would not do" he said, more strongly. "I was a stage magician. Sleight of hand, deception, illusion. One of my greatest joys, despite my flawed character, was entertaining children. No, whatever black heart you think I have, and mayhap it is black, it would not turn so vile as to sacrifice a young life!"

GM "Its not wrong when I when I don't have a choice, is it?" asked Finnigan who had at least been listening to what Justice had to say. "I have to make a living somehow. Pay back the witch who cursed me. See if I can...somehow....rejoin the human race" he continued, earnestly. To emphasise his point, the illusion he had cloaked himself in dropped. In its place was the same rotting skeleton with wasted limbs and hanging skin. "But reverse this? No. If I simply reverse the curse, then I will be dead in a month. Maybe two. Unless someone miraculously has a cure for cancer...." He groaned. "uuuggh....I can feel it still, riddling my bones! A grinding pain...verily, tis most vexatious!" he grunted. "But despite it all, I will not relinquish my life! I do not wish to die, and in some way, I have immortality, as despicable as it is!" "I need the money to survive! To buy pain killers, to pay the underworld of occult warlocks and sorcerers! And yes, to understand the murk that clothes my skin. And to use it! I am determined, if nothing else! Maybe I need the horn of a unicorn. Maybe I need liquid moonlight! But whatever I need to master my condition, I will get it!"

Snakebite "At this point..." gasped Cassie, her energy depleted. "I don't think what we want comes into it...we cant let the beast loose on the world. " She pulled out the medical kit from their supplies, and started tending, as best she could to Neil. And herself. "Something's gone terribly wrong here. A corrupted sacrifice to the gods. The moon ghost, Kayara, she wanted to be sacrificed...but her slayer, maybe her lover, stabbed her in the back. If you pardon the pun...." She didn't like the look of Neils wounds, but he was at least alive. They both were. "Must have sent her crazy, and that beast down below probably just as mad, in its own way" she continued. "What I don't get, though, is how you are tied up to all of this" she asked, firmly. "Kayara, or the beast, or whatever we have here, they seem to have it in for you....why is that, I wonder?"

Im so sorry this thread slipped under my radar! I didnt realise I was up! Brain fart! Ill get onto it now!

GM "Why, would you have them in the light?" answered Finnigan. "I do not keep them in the shadows, I teach them how to use the shadows. The art of illusion, concealment. When you are societies junk, 'tis the shadows that are useful, and the light is but a pleasant threat. You are always insisting that I do this to the fingers. That I do that...." He sighed. A croaked, dark sigh. "It is you that inflicts your will on them. Not I. Do you see me point a gun at them? Hold a knife to their throat?" he asked, softly, almost whispering. He started circling aroung Justice, keeping to the shadows. As the sun set, it was hard to see him. "Tell me now, plainly, what do you intend to do with me?"

GM And as it happened, the spears went up. Not in salute, but it seemed quite clear that by destroying the leaf they had done some service. Something worthy of approval. Not that that maked them friends. They started bickering and discussing the destruction of the leaf for a moment, pondering what to do. Pointing spears at the sky, at Dust Devil, and into the jungle to the four corners of the compass. And, most emphatically, at the tunnel that lead back to the magic mesa. "Setho?" it was more a question now, less a demand - although it had a touch of iron to the words. The spear pointed everywhere now, its question implicit. Where is he?

GM "I didn't profess to be master of my fingers" replied Finnigan standing up slowly, to his full and exceptional height. Even now, whilst he looked human and had meat on his bones, he had a thin, beanpole like build. The old top hat he was wearing was augmenting his appearance considerably. It was a very tall top hat! "I persuaded them. I implored them. And, I believe I had partial influence, for they have stolen less. But I taught them to defy authority, and that includes, to some extent, mine own. I am not a tyrant, I am a teacher..." With the flick of the wrist, the coins appeared in his palm again. "I take a little for myself. You do not see me draped in velvet and gold, do you? You see no stacks of dollar bills? Just dimes and nickels in hand!"

Rev "Just? What do you mean just?" huffed Rev, finally managing to get oxygen into her lungs. Although she did feel like she had some rattling screws knocking about her lungs. In Rev's case, feeling like that could very well mean she had some screws loose. "I'm thirty eight!" she said, lying blatantly. "I et my vegetables and moisturise twice a day!" she explained, standing up tall and patting her rosy cheeks. "And if you think thats a load of wind, get a load of this!" She oustretched her right palm and span a vortex of air from her jets, hoping to blow the bejewelled crook right off his throne!

Standing on a platform eh? Time for some wind. Namely, Trip 10 Knockback extra, Area Line. Thats a DC 20 Reflex Save to cut it down to Trip 10 And then opposed (worse of Acrobatics/DEX/STR) vs Opposed Trip Roll: 1d20 3 Thats so bad, its time for a reroll spending an HP Reroll Opposed Trip: 1d10+10 11 as bad as you could get. Still, thats 21 if he does not make his Reflex save vs area, and 16 if he does (notwithstanding if he has the evasion feat)

GM "I have been resplendent...." said Finnigan, savouring every word and giving her a toothy smile. The coins in his hand glinted and clinked as he played with them. His fingers were long and nimble, noted Justice. He handled them with great dexterity. With a flick of his hand, they mysteriously dissapeared from view. A masterpiece of sleight of hand, presumably. Possibly magic. "And how have you been? Dispending Justice in your own...unilateral....manner, I presume? A gun on one hand, a bible in the other? Like the wild west cowboy, righting wrongs?" "Alas, I seem to be wronging rights...."

GM The building was predictably run down, and long-shadowed in the setting sun. It looked barely more stable than the other one that had collapsed with Justice's blaster and the Gas Man's gas. For now, at least, it seemed to hold up. Justice was silent and slow, her agility not in question. As she entered the building she saw no fingers, but Finnigan she saw. Dressed in his ragged suit, with a ragged hat, counting dimes and nickels in the light of dusk. His viisage now was of the slender tall man she had initially met - true, with an unusual physique, but not the appearance he had subsequently taken, that of skin and bones and little (if anything) else. "Good evening...." he said, without looking up, his voice raspy and faint. "I see in the dark and shadows quite well....Justice!"

Opposed by...Notice: 1d20+9 21!

You may wish to, if continuing the dialogue, make a diplomacy roll with the -4 penality for not speaking da lingo.

GM The three Lemurians seemed to recognise the leaf, that was for certain. They hauled up their mounts and pointed their spear-lances at the leaf. Their clicking vocal cords sounded agitated and demaning, their slithering language insistent and oiled. "Setho!" it came again. They seemed to associate the Leaf with Setho, for good or ill, one could not tell. Abdul piped up with a grim mutter. "Setho is considered a mad sorcerer by his kind. What that means, I could not say for I do not understand their culture. But he is quite unlike them. Maybe they revere him, maybe they despise him. But they certainly consider him mad...he has admitted as much!"

GM Both Orange and Green shrugged. Paranoia was, it seemed, one of those ground in personality traits, as far as they could tell. "He don't exactly speak about his past. Or his condition" they explained. "We always have trouble. One way or another" said Orange. "We even like trouble. At least its on our terms!" "Yeah! Screw ths system!" said Green, giving a rebellious fist to the air. Her T-Shirt said the same. Except it didn't use the word "Screw". "Look, if we wanted a lecture, we would be at the church. Or at school or something" complained Orange. "So blah blah blah, be a good member of society, blah blah blah, nine to five blah blah blah education!" "Blah blah blah" mimicked Green. "So good luck with Finnigan and...well, whatever you gonna do...." she added. "We ain't gonna stop you" shrugged Orange.

That is both reasonable and wise.

GM As the dinosaurs and their riders stumbled about, Mr. Sting and Abdul both seemed to lose their nerve. "This ain't Kansas" explained Mr. Sting, agitated. "Snakes and Scorpions are great, but Dinosaurs and lizard-men aren't so much. No poison here, as far as I can see. Plenty of teeth, though. I say we go back the way we came before we get eaten!" he blustered. Abdul was still holding his blood soaked shirt. "As great as the past is, they don't...have hospitals...." he muttered weakly. "I am a poet not a pragmatist. But even poets have to be pragmatic sometimes...." he explained. "Setho!" demanded the last Lemurian rider. It was hard to read the expression of a lizard-man, but he seemed angry, scared, and confused all at the same time....