Supercape

GM Once again, Setho the Snake was fast, ducking behind the Throne with uncanny speed, his robes flattering with the wind. He had been unpeturbed by the sand, the storm, or anything else. It had, in fact, moved through him. His only vexation seemed to be the state of Abdul. But, he spied an opportunity. "You!" he pointed at Mr. Sting. "What is thy name?" "They call me...Mr. Sting, master!" said Mr. Sting, on his knees. "Would you serve me, Sting? It seems you have...disposed...of my previous partner. I need someone to bring the Leaf to humankind!" "Surely! I am in the midst of poisons like Ah nevuh seen!" grinined Mr. Sting, greedily, as the insects and spiders and snakes swarmed....

Unfortunately a miss. So, the swarm of insects is closing in - Dust Devil will be immune as insubstantial. Abdul and Venomax are beating it out of the tunnel, and Mr. Sting fascinated and awestruck, about to be engulfed in the swarm! What do you do! Dum dum daaah!

First off, its a Nauseate 8 Fort Save, thanks to Finnigans rotten body emitting such horrible gas! The Gas Man is, predictably, immune. Then initiative rolls, please! Initiative done lazy style: 2#1d20 3 1 with bonuses, the Gas Man gets 8 and poor Finnigan is on 0!

GM Finnigans face grew stony and defiant. "Never!" he said, his voice now firmer, louder. "Told ya so" said the Gas Man, feeling smug despite his pain. Finnigan ignored the Gas Man and stood up straight, tall, thin. "I was once a man of sunlight, I played by the rules, worked hard, got fair wages. Then, I got sick. Nobody could cure me, and I ran out of money trying to find some miracle cure..." He face grew lined. "I was nearly dead when I found a so-called cure...." Then, his face was gone. His flesh and clothes too. In it's place stood a half-dead, rotten man who was just skin and bones. If he had not moved, one might think he was a corpse. He certainly looked more like a zombie than a man. "Behold!" "Sheesh...I wasn't expecting that...." admitted the Gas Man. "Black magic. Sorcery. A Hex, a Curse. But at least I am alive! A man of the shadows, now! and I will survive! We are survivors, me and my fingers!" And with that, a cloud of horrible fumes flew from his body!

Once the Tsunami thread is done (which should be imminent) ill start up some threads. Broadly speaking there are three follow on possibilities (none need to be done!) 1. A social type thread inviting Forever Boy to sign up to the Codus. 2. Keeping Morgen out of trouble (i.e. there will be trouble, and heroes mop it up) 3. Addressing the Hornet's power play in Hong Kong now that Sin is apparently arrested (this one might involve the Scarab) @Tiffany Korta, @Exaccus, @RocketLord, @Avenger Assembled, @Thevshi which of these, if any, would you be interested in?

GM Chase...no. They were almost blind, in an ancient temple with some slithering horror. And it was anybodies guess how many pits and traps the builders of this temple had made to protect its contents. Chasing was a step too far. Follow...now that was another matter. Flashlight in one hand, pistol in the other, Cassie stepped forward. The Lemurian blood in her veins and eyes made her senses sharp even in darkness, and she trusted her instincts and reflexes. Besides which, she was in too deep now. "We come by invitation, we despoil nothing but dust" she said to the darkness. And her boots marched forward...

GM The Gas Man grunted himself back to standing. "What? He just returns what he stole and you let him go. You call that justice?" he snarled, angry and contemptuous. Finnigan, for his part, gave the Gas Man and Justice a long hard study. "Of course....of course...." he muttered. "Everything we stole....we will give to you! Just don't throw us in prison!" he pleaded, clasping his hands, kneeling, thanking Justice as if she was some merciful diety. "Fingers...my fingers! Quick now, gather our ill-gotten gains!" There was muttering and disquiet from the shadows. The fingers were not happy about being gassed, and not happy about returning the goods. "Finnigan! we can't just.." started the orange haired punk. "Do as I say!" interrupted Finnigan, a glare from his eyes. "Finnigan always looks after his fingers, does he not? Just trust in Finnigan, for he surely knows what is best!" The Gas Man gave another long look at Justice. "Seriously? You gonna let him walk?"

GM "Puh-please!" croaked Finnigan, dropping to his knees and shuffling forward. He actually crawled towards Justice. "I am crippled! weak! I cannot survive in Prison. My talents are few, and all I wish to is to carve a little happiness for me and my fingers!" "Yuh damn waste of space" grunted the Gas Man to Finnigan. He tried to get up, slumped a little, then staggered to his feet, almost bent over, his breathing laboured and his brow sweating. "We got him, didn't we?" said the Gas Man to Justice, now. "Quite complaining. Just kick him in the teeth and finish it" he said, firmly. "Do that, and I can forget you just shot me in the damn back...Jesus, you do whine on. We got the job done, didn't we? Justice is served...."

GM The sand whipped through the caven with a frantic fury, and no insect, arachnid, amphibian or serpent escaped its path. It was not exactly pleasant to watch. The thin-skinned poisonous creatures were shredded by the sand and reduced to bone and dust. The scaled and exosletoned creatures weathered the sand up to a point. Whilst they were not shredded, they were blown back, knocked about, stunned and concussed by the sand storm. Once the sand was blown, a clear and present path was open to the tunnel they had wandered in from. Hopefully, it lead back to Mr. Sting's stack. However, this was the Magic Mesa....

Rev All that glitters Racing Death Snakebite Jungle Memories: Walking the Daydream Mr. Murk Codus Immortus: Tsunami The Red Rat What Happens In The Shadows (Posts go to Sgt Shark) Starshot Crash on Volturnus (Posts go to Lament) GM Sting in the tail Busy Little Fingers Head West Red Net Texan BBQ Guide point to Mr Murk GM Posts: First, ensure 1 post to every PC. Then, boost post count to 25 in the following order: Snakebite, Echohead, Diamondlight, Mr. Murk, Lament, Sgt Shark, Rev, Ronin, Curveball I think there is enough left to then boost Mr. Murk to 50 PP / 4 PP

GM "I'm a me!" answered Rev, as proudly as she could. It was, superficially, rather proud and confident. But still, scratch the surface deep enough, and Rev did have lingering shame over her condition. Down to three limbs, her flying was not as controlled as she would like, but it was still enough to thrust upwards and let the blade swipe under her. She spied the running brother making a getaway. "Oh no you don't, buster!" she shouted, and swooped down after him, her foot jets burning blue plasma and propelling her straight for him. Fast as he was, she was a lot faster, and in a moment she was right by him, swinging a massive haymaker punch....

Defence +10 so I think that misses! I think Rev is up again, so Flying after the super speeding dude and giving him a heft one-armed punch! Punches Brother: 1d20+10 23 I guess that hits? If it does, DC 25 Tough.

Starshot Frankly, Starshot was rather overcome with the generosity of the Ul-Mor. No...not quite generosity. Their nobility. Your freindship. Was all he could answer. He hoped they could sense his admiration, his emotion, as well as his thoughts. He relayed the assembling plan to his crew-mates. "The Ul-Mor will need to time to gather themselves, their elders. They are from the desert, and whilst they will travel, they are not suited to the forests and plains. I think it is up to us to scout out the pirate camp and the Edestrekai" he explained. "I think our first goal should be to find out what we can about the Edestrekai, and, if possible, their religion...." He furrowed his brow. "This is outside my understanding. I am a hunter, not a psychohistorian" he muttered. "I can observe them and scout the land as good as any, but I am not sure I can understand what I observe. And then there is the matter of communicating with them...." He turned to Soreen and Laark. "I don't suppose you studied xenosociology anywhere, did you?"

GM Right in the back! Zam! The impact sent the Gas Man flying into one of the walls of the building, where he hit the masonry in a respectable cloud of dust. A few bricks fell. He slumped to his side. "Uhhhh..." he grunted. It was impressive he was still conscious, and no doubt his body armour had absorbed a fair part of the force of the blast. "You....you....damn Judas...." he mumbled at Justice as he tried to catch his breath. "Well done! You saved me! You saved us all!" croaked Finnigan, bowing deeply to Justice and doffing an imaginary hat. "Saved us from vagabond and vigilante both! How can I ever thank you?"

That will hit! DC 20 Save Tough Save vs Blast: 1d20+6 9 ouch. Fail by 10, so Bruised, Dazed, Stunned! Lets move out of combat a bit, unless you object.

Cool! I make that a DC 19 Tough Save Tough Save: 1d20+3 6 Thats a fail by a rather impressive 13, but ill half-waive that. He is conscious but ill say he is essentially so staggered (as well as literally staggered) by the blow he is only half-conscious for the next half minute or so, taking him out of combat bar the occassional muttering.

I am going to guess that Scarab is essentially readying an action for when Yasser fires? In which case we could handle it as a rather assuming simultaneous attack and then go to initiative?

GM "Bah! Talking never solved anything" grunted the Gas Man. "Certainly never helped when a man just doing his job accidentally dropped a tear gas grenade...." he added, with emphasis. Finnigan, for some reason, seemed quite unaffected by the tear gas. Still, worldlessly, he decided that this was not a fight he wished to engage in. He stumbled around, and started shuffling off through the cracks and debris of the ruined building. "Hmmm that usually works. I mean...that accident usually works" he muttered. "Still, looks like you are a skinny little thing, Finnigan. Gonna be a pleasure bustin you up. I mean, restraining you peacefully using minimum force" With that matter cleared up, the Gas Man started after Finnigan. He was much faster, much fitter than Finnigan (who looked like he was a very old man by the way he moved) and had caught up in no time....

Round 1 16 - Finnigan 15 - Gas Man 12 - Justice - Blinded [DC 12 Recover], 1 HP 6 - Fingers Finnigan and the Gas Man are essentially going to chase this round, ducking into the cracks of the building they are in. The Gas Man is considerably fitter than the shuffling Finnigan, so I will say that this round, the Gas Man closes the distance. They are twenty or thirty feet from you and have partial cover. Justice is up, and can start the round with a recovery fort save from the tear gas!

Can you throw me an attack roll for that, Ex?

Rev "Whoa!" yelped Rev. She didn't see that coming! Well, she actually did see the guard coming at her. Which was fortunate for both her and, more importantly, the guard. "This works best with balls, not people!" She focussed on her left arm - the synthetic skin ripped and the arm elongated ten, twenty feet, the still human-looking hand grasping on to the guard at the end. With another click! her arm fell off. This was not a horrible injury. It was, in fact, quite painless. Rev could detatch her arms and keep control of them. "Lets get you to safety! Hold on!" she told the guard, as her arm fell to the floor and started slithering away carrying the guard with it!

Rev will certainly try to catch the guard. With an elongating and detatchable limb. I guess that uses up all her actions this round, however.

Initiative: 1d20+11 15

Snakebite "Nothing ever got out to record it" whispered Cassie, grimly. She whipped her flashlight round and gripped her Tranq-gun. "Something down here with us. Something fast...in the dark...." Something that strangles men and breaks bones....? Cassie was a bold sort. Her eyes could see in the dim light and she was as well equipped as anybody to deal with tomb raiding. But even she could feel the tightness of skin and throat, the wetness of neck and palm, and the flutter of her heart. The adrenaline was kicking in. She felt the barrel of the pistol shake slightly. She gritted her teeth, and slowly moved around the jars, to confront whatever she had seen....

GM The mighty punch rocked the Giant Snakes head in quite the opposite direction to Venomax's punch. And, with its skull being forced this way by a powerful headbutt, and that way by a powerful fist, it clearly decided the only right and proper thing was to go to sleep. Its giant black eyes glazed, its tongue lolled, and then the huge coiled body went limp, releasing Venomax. Meanwhile, the fastest insects - flying ants, scuttling spiders, even some remarkably horribly agile millipedes and some hopping toads, started swarming over both Dust Devil and Venomax. Biting, nipping, spitting in a wave of ghastliness. And this was just the fastest of them - still spartan. From the pores of the cavern they crawled and slithered, a giant black wave of seething creatures. Abdul screamed in fear, still holding his stabbed abdomen. Mr. Sting...well...he hardly knew what to do. He just stood by the throne, mouth open...