Supercape

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....

GM The two young women nearly jumped out of their skin. It was that kind of night, that kind of street. In credit to them, they rallied quickly - perhaps to save face with each other. "Whoa! Don't jump up on us like that!" "The hero!" They paused, wondering what to say. Not for long, and not well either, for they rambled on, tongue loose with anxiety. "Because we are the Fingers! Finnigan's Fingers!" "Its best to work at night, anyway. People don't see you so good" All correct but vapid answers so far. "I guess that's just how Finnigan operates. He don't like the sunshine" was the more illuminating answer. "And, well, we just kind of fell in line with that. Finnigan helped us, but he is...ahhh...twitchy....paranoid...."

Snakebite Bullets...well, they might well be more effective than the Tranq-darts. Cassie was opposed to firearms, on the grounds that they could kill people (a quite reasonable proposition to her mind). But...better kill than be killed, and this beast was not exactly human. But she kept having the nagging sensation she was missing something....the heat of adrenaline, the danger, the darkness....she was missing something.... "Come on...we got to go...." she grunted, although their chances seem to constrict with every minute. She shuffled and tried to haul Neil out of the temple, her eyes on the beast, her ringed-finger twitching. It was surely the ring that was involved somehow...

GM "Look, we are better off since Finnigan came then before...." said Orange, who was the voice of relative reason. Relative reason. "Fair...." agreed Green, with a shudder. "You remember what things where like here? For us? For you?" "I remember" said Green, curtly. They both stared at the flames a while. "He's got our backs. We just need to lay off for a few more days. That's what he said" continued Orange. "We don't want heat. Remember that hero who came knocking?" "I remember" said Green again, although with less chill this time. "And that mercenary. You know, the Gas Guy" "Hmph" said Green with a little smile on his lips. "Finnigan needs us to stay in the shadows" "He needs to stay in the shadows. His condition...its pretty creepy to see. And it looks worse in the sunlight...."

GM The building was rather unstable, like practically every building in Trumble street. It was also dark, but this only ensured that the fire in a drum in the centre of the building was easily visible, whereas Justice was not. (How oft Justice is invisible!) And around the fire huddled two women with very familiar hair. Namely, orange and green! The same two pickpockets that had, three days ago, tried to pick pocket Justice! "Can't keep going like this. What does Finnigan expect us to do?" muttered the first. "Cut down...he says. Just for a little while....he says. Sure. I mean, I get he taught us how to do the job. But whats the point in teaching us if he is just going to tell us to stop doing it..." muttered the second, more angrily. "Cut down. Not stop..." corrected the first. "Whatever" sighed the second, warming her hands and nimble fingers on the fire.

That hits! Post your attack IC!

GM And from the jungle, from the vines and trees and bushes and wonderfully green landscape... Burst three dinosaurs! Only an expert paleantologist could guess at their species. They were about the size of a horse, jumping around on two legs, with claws and teeth and scales. Ferocious indeed! But even more remarkably, ontop of them rode three riders! Like humanoid snakes they were, just as Setho had been under his cowl. Black eyes, scaled skin, holding wickedly barbed spears as if they were knights on horseback with mighty lances. And into the cloud of venom they rushed. One had enough speed to rush straight through without inhaling the fumes. The other two, behind, were not so lucky, and started stumbling around quite perplexed. The two riders ontop of unfortunate beasts started screaming and clicking their strange vocal cords. The faster leader, whose sanity appeared intact, shrieked something ununderstandable in his (or possibly her) native tongue. Slimy, oily, and incomprehensible was his words. Although one could be made out on several occassions. Setho....Setho...Setho....

Which means saves vs Fort 10 Lazy Reflex Saves: 6#1d20 15 13 20 10 10 7 With reflex bonuses and +5 situational that makes 24, 22, 29 for the Dinos (all made) and all the Lemurians fail. So, onto the fort saves Lazy Fort Saves: 6#1d20 19 3 4 20 10 9 Making 25, 9 and 10 for the Dinos (one pass, two fails) and funnily enough the first Rider makes the save first. Ill delay rolling confuse effects for one second - lets see what happens IC first, although they are effectively incapacitated a moment (and probably longer!)

Ok so given the confuse cloud is visible, I will give the approaching persons / things a +5 situational bonus on the reflex area save. What do we have? Three horse sized dinosaurs, three Lemurian warriors astride them! For mainly my own reference... Dinosaurs Lemurian Riders

GM All three seemed to shudder. "Look, he's a creepy guy, ok?" blustered the more alert woman. "Nobody really knows anything about him. Turned up a few months ago, got a gang of kids together. Never seen in the light of day. He lets us get on with our business, and we let him get on with his. But..." "Nobody figured him out" said the man. "Just a pile of voodoo rumours, you know?" he said, nervously. "So we really want to know what...I mean who, he is...and what his deal is, you understand?" he said. It was a vague but honest objective. "Hard to do business here on Trumble street if you don't understand all the variables...." explained the woman. "vvvvvariabubblebubblebubbles...." said the echolalic stoned woman.

Snakebite "Nonsense!" wheezed Cassie, fighting to get her breath back. I'm sure I broke a rib... ...or two.... Still. It could be worse. She could be dead! "We are both getting out of here alive. Maybe even in one piece" she joked, as she felt oxygen hitting her blood stream again. "But its fast...very fast. We need to get somewhere it can't follow. Out of here, or through some gap it cannot follow!" she said. She ignored the smell of his blood, although it didn't smell good. Time for first aid later, though...back at camp if possible, otherwise it would be a makeshift sloppy piece of medical care. She just hoped he hadn't got something really nasty, like a haemopneumothorax...

TOugh Roll: 1d20+6 25 toughness and Notice: 1d20+15 28 notice!

Not right now! But coming up - depends what you get up to!

GM "Gas Man? Yeah I heard about that guy" "Real %$^!hole" On this, surely, everyone could (and did) agree. And it certainly was the oil to smooth the engine of diplomacy. "Finnigan ain't much better, though. Creepy guy, must be allergic to sunlight. Only saw him once and looked like some shifty old man, not a pound of meat on him. Just skin and bones" shuddered the man. "I mean, he never did us know harm. His pick pocket kids are alright. He makes sure they never go pickin our pockets..." "We'd hava a problem with that" said the non-spaced-out-woman, trying to look fierce and mean. "Uhihuuuuuhhhhhh." areed the spaced-out-woman, ruining any chance of this image. "Anyway if you want to check out Finnigan..." finished the man, pointing to a run down two story building (it was initially three story, but the upper story was no more), "try the basement down there. And mind yourself on the stairs. And, uh, if you do check him out, you can do us a solid by letting us know what you find out..." "Creeeepyyyy...." drooled the spaced-out-woman, her grin painted on be chemicals, but her fear still bubbling through.

GM The three of them turned around, trying to look cool, acting suspicious. Two women and a man, dressed in urban attire, with plenty of rings and tattoos. "Finnigan?" said one, slowly, sizing up Robin. "What you want with Finnigan?" "We can hook you up with what you neeeeeed...." slurred one of the women, a glazed expression on her eyes, her vocal chords lagging behind her brain. "Sure" finished the other woman. "We got what you want. Best gear in Trumble street. Even got Zoom and Max!" she said proudly. "Wait!" interrupted the man. "You ain't a cop are ya?" he asked suspiciously. And quite stupidly, for surely no cop would admit to being a cop. "She ain't no cop, idiot!" replied the second woman. "Although..." she interrupted herself. "...what do you want with Finnigan?"

GM Social media was alive with its normal menu of rubbish, flotsam, and ego. It took both brain and stomach to wade through the vapid posts about this, that, and the other (although mainly, it seemed, about the self), but buried admidst the static was some pertinent information. Theft! Not at the rate, it seemed, that had ripped through the neighbourhood a few days ago, but pick pocketing still. At a reduced rate, but pver a wider area. Had Finnigan kept his word? It appeared not. Although he had also claimed that he was not in full control of his fingers. Trumble street looked as run down as ever, and night was falling fast, as was a chill in the air. Passing a few drug addicts that lay almost comatose in a condemned buildings porch, one could feel the dark and cold freezing their poor bodies, which mumbled and groaned. Down further, a few thugs stood around a fire - possibly, by the looks of them, drug dealers and perhaps even the sellers who had committed those poor souls to the night.

Snakebite Stand and die? I might just... "<There might>" gasped Cassie as she felt ribs crack. In a moment, she was in things grasp, in its horrendous strength. It was all she could do to stop her vision turning black. "<If you did not eat everyone that might help you!>" It was a bluff, of course. She had no intention of ever letting something this malign into the world of men. But if she could save her own skin, that would be a nice bonus too. "<Think on that before you chew my Lemurian bones!>" she wheezed, barely able to get a lungfull of air. "<You might be sucking my marrow...I hope the taste, gone in a moment, is better than the chance of emancipation!>"

Lets roll with it and see where it takes us. Grapple Roll: 1d20+18 19 so pinned as well. Lets see what Neil does!