Supercape

Ronin God-damn this... Curtis drove up Nancy street and onto the corner shop pharmacist. It was boarded up and had metal grills on, like always. Junkies...always making life hell... He was more grim than normal. Yoshie, his grandmother, had diabetes, and the medication she had got was a mess. Curtis was no doctor (other than his basic military training), but he could see the printed script was garbage. Who knew what had happened? He didn't want to give her the wrong medication. Yoshie was a tough old bird, but she was eighty eight, and tough as she was, he did not fancy poisoning her. He pulled up outside the pharmacist and climbed out, taking a few deep breaths. No point taking it out on the pharmacist - they did a tough job round here, and didn't deserve anything but respect. There was, however, a line of people outside, all complaining to the strung out pharmacist that the scripts were all just as mangled as Yoshies! "Hey man, what the hell is going on?" he asked the person at the back end of the queue...

Snakebite Jungle Memories Ronin Ink Rev All That Glitters Racing Death Lament I want my tears back Echohead The Sparrow of Space Sgt Shark Defenders of the Deep GM Sting in the Tail Busy Little Fingers Zip Zap Wall the Build Monorail...Monorail...Monorail!!! Head West Red Net Hong Kong Go Festive Smear Other Guidebook entry for W.E.S.T Guide post to Mr Murk GMs post to boost all PCs to 25 posts / 3 PP Then take Mr. Murk as far as he can go (up to 100 PP) I think there may be a few PP left over from that; if so, push up to 50PP the following in order: Lament, Snakebite, Echohead, Diamondlight, Curveball, Sgt Shark, Ronin, Rev

So the Jungle is a hot environment, and it is about an hours pace with the Lemurians. That means a DC10 Fort Save or 1 point of CON agility damage. As you can move fast enough, you can also make the Survival skill DC 15 Check to gain +2 on the Fort Save (NB: Survival does not need to be trained, so even if no skills you can try a WIS modifier skill roll!)

GM And so... Abdul, his loyalties dividied, had clearly enough of the rich kid in him to find the prospect of leaving modern cons unpalatable at best. He had lead the grumbling Mr. Sting back to the mesa - although quite how that fractious relationship would play out was anyones guess. Meanwhile, the Lemurian riders were riding on their steeds. The jungle was thick but they obviously knew their way around the wood and fiolage. There was bird song and fruit. insects buzzed, and reptiles slithered. The jungle was beautiful and hideously alive. It was about an hour walking through oppressive heat and oppresive humidity; Dust Devil and Venomax might have made faster pace courtesy of super powers, but they were limited by the pace of the Lemurians. They came to a depression in the jungle, where the trees were taller, the shade mercifully cooler, and a suggestion - so subtle - that the flora was more gnarled and twisted, somehow. Fruits were rotten or burting ripe, and the faintest sickly sweet smell wafter in the air. In the centre of the depression, encased in vines and creepers, a crumbling ruined temple of some sort... "Setho!"

Cheers

GM "Sure, sure" replied the officer. "You got your rights....errr....Justice, isn't it?" he inquired, racking his brains. He was a fan of pop culture and superheroes, clearly. "So you have the right to give evidence and statements as Justice, protects your secret Identity and everything" "How dramatic!" whispered a bitter Finnigan. "Shut it mister!" snapped the officer at Finnigan. "You'll get your turn!" He turned back to Justice in a more friendly but still official manner. "Now then...if you could tell me what happened so I can lock this son of a...I mean, this suspect....in a cell..." he invited, keen to hear all the details. And perhaps get a signature, too!

Rev "Doctor, Mister, Yada Yada" replied Rev moving her hand in a contemptuous mimic of boring speech. "What are you a doctor of, anyway? Gold? What does that make you? A Goldologist?" she asked, honestly slightly curious. "Any way, lets see what you make of THIS!" she said dramatically, firing her feet jets full power, and speeding straight at him. Well, not quite straight at him. With one arm gone, she was a bit more unsteady than she was like. And besides, she was still smarting and wheezing. And so, she ended up a few degrees (or, in honesty, several degrees) off target. BAM! She barely registered what had happened. She just found herself sitting down in a pile of dust and masonry several yards from Doctor Gold. "See! Got you! What did you think of that?" she asked, boldly.

So Rev going to charge at him using the Jets of Justice! (io.e. her jets) That gives her +2 to attack and -2 to defence, but she is also shifting +2 DC and -2 attack, to make a total of +2 DC and -2 Defence. Charge Mastermind: 1d20+10 12 Bam! Collision! (just not with the doctor!)

GM The officer half-pulled himself together, licked his thumb and started typing into the computer at his desk. "Name? Full name?" he demanded of Finnigan. "Michael Mouse, Esquire!" retorted Finnigan, defiantly. "I'm sorry, we only accept false names on Thursdays. Whats your real full name?" replied the desk officer. "Finnigan!" "Wait? Finnigan?" spluttered the desk seargent. "Some guy looking for you. What was his name? Brad something. What did he call himself? The Gasser or something?" he pondered as an alert pinged on the computer. "Said he wanted to collect some bounty on you...." "Yes! I demand you release me to his custody immediately!" said Finnigan. "That's not how it works round here, buddy. We are the police, not bounty hunters" replied the desk officer. "What happened? you willing to give a statement, I hope" he asked of Justice.

Snakebite Cassie bid Neil goodnight. She wasn't quite ready to sleep. Not yet. Isa was kindly, but her interest lay more with Doji. He was old, and mayhap had heard more thank Isa. "<You have been most generous>" she said, kindly. "<We needed food and rest. And a bath>" she added with a smile. "<We found a temple, a weeks walk from here. Dedicated to a moon Goddess, I think. We didn't have the time to examine it fully, but...these were old Gods, and they used human sacrifice>" she explained. "<Forgive my supersition, but perhaps the myths of ancient times and more real than we dare to think....I think the beast of the Jungle may be a beast of the old myths and Gods...>" It was a bold start, but she did not think there was any better way...

Snakebite As tempting as it was to blurt out the truth in complete form, Cassie felt that the atmosphere was - and quite understandably - tense. Diplomacy needed a light touch, and the truth had to spill out in a measured way, whilst avoiding any falsehood. "<I fear we...may have>" said Cassie, cautiously. "<And we barely escaped with our own skin....>" she pointed at both of them, indicating the war wounds they had recieved. "<What is this terrible beast? It did not look like any predator from the jungle....something much more terrible....!>" she said, more emphatically. "<Forgive the questions, but we are explorers and archeaologists. We seek to understand, even if the understanding is something terrible....>"

GM And so... The nearest police station was not far. Monday night was far from its busiest, even at this time of night. A few drunkards, a few thefts, but nothing too exciting. That was all about to change when Justice marched in holding a zombie man at gun point. "Jesus Christ mother of Mary!" mangled the desk seargent. He was a middle aged man with a paucity of hair and an excess of flesh. His suprise was so great that he dropped his double cream McChoco-Choc donut from his gaping fingers and gaping maw. "What the hell is this!?!" he whispered with every suggestion that hell had indeed vomitted up an unpleasantness right into his lap. "Lamentations! An infernal pox upon me! Beware! Beware!" interjected Finnigan, adopting a dramatic and infernal pose.

Good enough to get the answer as per IC. Not ideal, but better than a nuke! Feel free to SCIENCE that effect however you wish. (? Reverse sound ?)

GM The Energy levels flicked this way and that. The Scarab could see the sparks flying off Yassers unconscious corpse in infra red and ultravoilet, and most probably a whole heap of EM signatures. Either way, it didn't look good. She could hear the footsteps stop - at least momentarily. There was the sound of agruments in arabic, which became quickly as hot as Yasser. Some wanted to run, some felt a loyalty to Yasser. She could hear a scuffle break out... ...but right now, it seemed Yasser was about to explode. And explode badly. The only solution that she could see was to invert the detonation. Make him implode rather than explode. Although what would that do to Yasser? In any case, it was better than him getting torn to atoms in an explosion. Now, if only she could work out how to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow....!

Ok so I think we are back on course with various edits!

Rev "Go on, shoo!" said Rev, giving a token swing of her shiny foot to indicate she was kicking them out of play. She span round, a put a brave face on, not wishing to let anyone know (perhaps even herself) how she felt her insides grind. It was going to take a while to get her organs back in the right place, she thought. Or rather, tried not to think about. "As for you, Mister Mastermind, we aren't letting you go!" she said. "That's my masterplan!" With that cleared up, she swung her fist forward on its extended cybernetic springs!

OK so Rev is going to prioritise the mastermind rather than the punks. As fifteen feet away, thats good enough to hit with elonged arm, and lets go for a completely straightforward punch! Punch Midas: 1d20+10 22 well I guess that hits, and if it does, a DC 25 Tough Save

GM Another swirl of murk and Finnigan was back to his true form, skin, bones, and little else. His skin was rotten leather, his teeth yellow and loose, his eyes bulging and grey. "I should not have told you that" he said, angry with himself now. "It seems I have played my last card, and you still hold the gun. Bah! I spit at you!" he said, defiantly, and gave a spit at Justice's feet. It was not a big spit, but it did not look very hygeinic either. "Come then. Let us go and see what terrible fate awaits me!"

GM "But he cheated me!" complained Mr. Sting, clearly not happy with being cheated. "Did you never bend a deal your own way?" retorted Abdul. "Come on. You stabbed me. We are in a Jungle a million years ago. Lets get out of here, then we can discuss who did what to who" he said, sternly. Mr. Sting gave him a long hard glare, frustrated at circumstance. "Guess the dice fall that way today, huh...." he conceded. "I'll not shank you today, then..." Abdul, still holding his belly and red stained t shirt looked back at the Dust Devil. "I can...I think...get us through the Mesa. I wish you hadn't crushed the leaf though. It...allows me to see the way much more clearly" he said, rather worried. "I can't be sure I can get us back to the right place, or the right time...."

Right I think the point where it when a little askew is this one, @Cubismo This will take a bit of an edit extravaganza! Cube, perhaps you could edit that post without reference to the question to North, and then I can edit the post afterwards?

GM There was a swirl of murk, the faintest sound of flies, the smell of something ancient, and the wasted figure of Finnigan was there once more. "Astute!" he said, angry that his disguise had been penetrated. There was another whirl of murk around him, and in the blink of an eye, a young woman stood in his place, malnourished, ragged clothes. "Puh-puh-please officer! I am homeless...I need help! This vigilante is trying to clean up the streets..." she sobbed, dropping to her knees. "C-c---can you help me?" she asked the imaginary police officer in front of her. Finnigan, still looking like the homeless youth, gave Justice a defiant eye. "Wouldn't do much for your reputation, would it?" he said, spitefully....

Both very welcome (and still open for offers). Any thoughts on what to do?

GM "Child killer?" blustered the Gas Man. "CHILD KILLER?" he was angry now, to the point of livid. "When did he kill a child, huh?" he demanded, pointing another finger at Justice. He edged, slowly, towards the ladder. Zam! He stopped as the Justice Blaster kicked up a puff of dirt by his feet. "So, that's the way of it is it? Gun in hand again..." grunted a most displeased Gas Man. "So...what's this, a mexican stand off? What you gonna do now, Sherrif?"

GM "...nothing the Doctor's couldn't fix" answered the Gas Man, grumpy and irritated. "I had worse than falling buidlings" He took one final look around the building. "Look. I don't want to fight you. Not again" he concluded, bluntly. "You go your way, I'll go mine, alright? As far as I know, Finnigan is down in the sewer, and that's where I'm going to look. You want to kick up dust up here, that's your business. Good luck to you". He gave a grunt of satisfaction and then circled slowly around Justice, making his way to the ladder...

GM The Gas Man's supsicion apparently matched Justice's. "I had him in my sights!" he said, pointing at his night-vision goggles. "What do you mean, you had him in yours? He can't be in two places at once....can he?" he asked. He was getting nervous now, wringing his hands once more. Sweating. "What's going on? He is some magician? Illusionist? Smoke and mirrors?" he asked, looking aroung carefully before turning his paranoid glare back on Justice. "No...it must be you! Lying to me! He's down there, isn't he?" he demanded, pointing at the sewer beneath them. "You won't keep me from him! Let me through...."