Supercape

Grapple Roll: 1d20+16 25 unfortunately, she is too strong! Just to keep track: Queenie - Unharmed - 1 HP Goss - Unharmed - 1 HP We are kind of out of combat right now, as Smokey and his bandits are captured by the force construct. Greenfingres is more angry than aggressive.

No sweat guys, sounds like you have both had real bad weeks. Just checking this had not dropped off the radar.

GM North was a bit surprised at the AI, and given the rather worrisome experience he (and Replica) had had with AI only a few days ago, he was also nervous. But, to his credit, he rallied quickly. "No..thank you" he said, a speck of mumbling in his normally erudite voice. "We are quite fine" He had indeed had a nice cup of tea and an English Breakfast at Heathrow Airport just an hour or two ago. He took a moment - or several - to inspect the rather splendid Headquarters of Vanguard, and compose himself. I just hope Mother Board...whomever he...or she...is, doesn't get inside THIS AI too. The gridlock had been bad enough. Goodness knows what VERA could do. On the other hand, he reassured himself, the firewalls and protective systems on VERA where surely of a higher calibre... I Hope...

Can I give you guys a nudge!

OOC for this! Featuring Synapse and Replica. @Cubismo, I will assume Replica has repaired her bullet wounds. If you fancy any temporary glitches from the repairs, feel free to add them in as temporary complications for this thread.

GM October 10th, London The WEST jet was a converted 747. It was jam packed with sensory equipment, libraries, laboratories, computers. THere was space to live and eat in there. It even had a fish tank. But no jacuzzi. Doctor Norris North, director of W.E.S.T (World Exotic Science Taskforce, an arm of the UN) had flown Replica there. They had only just saved a valuable and dangerous batch of Darwin-X from theft by the mysterious Red Dawn. The soldiers who had tried to take it, whilst clearly Russian, clearly highly trained, seemed to have no memory of anything to do with their mission or their masters. The only tangible clue was Mother Board, the name of the hacker who had orchestrated the Gridlock that had allowed the theft. After landing, North and Replica took a famous black London Taxi to the HQ of Vanguard. "I have somebody in mind. Synapse. Genius member of the Vanguard, the supergroup of this area. She is highly skilled with computers and has some experience with Darwin-X, I understand. If anybody can help us, she can. So lets put on our best diplomatic hats, and see if we can persuade her..." He rang the doorbell of the Vanguard HQ. "Hello? Hello? May I enter? This is Doctor North, from the United Nations..."

OOC for this As this is a direct follow on from the prologue, Wrong Groceries... Dust Devil II - 3 HP - Unharmed This will, at some point, fuse with Sting in the Tail and get Venomax into the picture. For now, a bit of Lovecraftian horror and mystery!

GM Down South, by the Magic Mesa In the midst of the desert and rock, stood a tower of black stone. The sun blazed low, and cast long shadow on the ground. Insects and dry weeds scuttled and clung to the dirt, and vultures flew overhead, looking for bones to pick clean. Bones there were aplenty, but dry and white and devoid of flesh they were. The Dust Devil landed in this land, travelling from Freedom City through the sand. Here, he had learned, was Abdul, the occultist and leader of a band of merry bohemians who had discovered some strange leaf that, if smoked, sent the brain spiralling through space and time, and rotted it with madness whilst doing so. By the Mesa, space and time started to become strange. They became stranger still as one approached the black rock tower. It would take considerable skill to navigate through this strange land, but fortunately, this was the Dust Devil. And he could navigate with ease. By the dirt was a buick, dry and damage from smoke inside. Iniside a young woman lay unconscious, dry, and near death, sprawled on the back seat wearing a summer dress bleached from light.

GM The nearest construction site was suitably near. And the sand was suitably silicon. Through strange eldritch power, through stranger eldritch dimensions, the Dust Devil felt the Mesa, and felt space (and other dimensions) flow past him until... Well, that is another story. But to the Mesa he went. That strange nexus through stranger realms, through dreams and visions, through the past and future. Through twisted corners and spiralling passages. And as he travelled to the Mesa, to the flat broken dry earth around it, he beheld a vision of a scorpion. ~ Fin ~

GM And so... As it turned out, the Irate Pirate was painfully ignorant of information. He was a medium level hacker without the wit to understand he had been played. Mother board, who ever she (or possibly he) was, had played him well - manipulating him with fantasies of hitting the big time via her help. Sure, he was being as helpful as he can. But as it turned out, that wasn't very helpful. North passed on the three soldiers to the FBI for questioning. For now, it was a win. An imperfect win, for one had got away, and presumably had plenty to say about Replica. But, the AI system was back to normal, the traffic started to flow again, and a large shipment of Darwin-X had been saved from theft. "I have an idea" said North to Replica. "Somebody I think we can ask for help..." ~ Fin ~

GM "I should clarify, the rules apply to those signing the Codus, not those who have not. Whilst I do not condone killing of any kind, personally, if the oath is to have value it must be equitable. The rule is not to kill an immortal who has signed the Codus. Tit for tat, as they say in London" "As for the future, do not despair" he said kindly. "It may be millions of years, nay, longer, before the fates conspire to make you commit such horrors. Tis the nature of infinity that the almost impossible will eventually come to pass. Consider this before you lament to deeply; the measure of your life shall be the proportions of your actions. A thousand years of virtue and one moment of vice be a great boon for the universe" he explaied, kindly. "Besides, your immortality may be beyond your control..."

GM And so... Twas another short drive in sunshine and dust. The landscape here looked even more desolate, with only dry vegation sparsely littered on cracked earth. It stopped being flat and started being craggy, and soon Venomax was driving down a crevasse. Mr. Sting lived in what could only be described as half-cave, half-shack. It had a smoking fire outside, but if anyone was here, they were indoors, or possibly deep in one of the caves. Drawing closer, Venomax could see dried insects, particularly scorpions, decorating much of the outside of the shack. And across the smoking fire, something very insect like and large lay cooking...

GM "Sure is" answered the Doc. "Keeps things interesting around here, sure. Also drives men mad. Or inspired. Often both...me, I dont think I could leave now. Dont want to" he grunted through his gravelled throat. "Look, if you want to look into this scorpion, there is a strange fella. Stranger than even the strange folks round here. They call him mister sting. Lives in a shack about ten miles from here. By a canyon. Lives with his momma, who is mighty odd herself. Has a big thing for insects, and poisons. Look, freind, he is a dangerous fella. Plenty of nasty rumours about Mister Sting. But he collects scorpions, and nobody on this continent knows them better" said the Doc. "Just promise me you'll be careful. And pack a gun" he added. "Just in case. And I hope you got thick boots and can run real fast, too...."

GM "Schmblf--ha" mumbled Doctor Whitefish, picking up momentum to actually speak. He had a slow, quiet voice, his voice dry and raspy as if it was made of gravedust. "Can;t believe you actually came. Nobody believes me. 'All think I'm crazy. Crazy Doc Whitefish, the dentist. Think the sun fried ma brains or sumthin'" he croaked. "Here, come inside, in the shade. You don't look like you used to the sun, nor the desert..." Inside his shop was an old dentists chair. Perhaps it had been used recently, but it was spotted with rust and blood stains. Somebody must have been pretty desperate to use Doc Whiteheads services. Aside from that, it had a certain bizzarre charm. Old books, old posters, lizards and scorpions dried out and preserved. A chess board which had most of the pieces. "Ah been scratchin' out a living here for twenty years or more. This part of the desert, its strange, son. They say its home to the Magic Mesa. And they would say correctly. They call me mad, but I seen it...wonderful, strange, horrific all at the same time. Its where dreams go, and where dreams come from, I reckon. Folks round here, they dream some mighty strange dreams..." "And thats why the insects round here, they strange too. Now, you won't believe me, but I saw a scorpion big as a man two months ago!" he declared, fully earnest.

GM "What? Are you calling me a coward! Why I laugh in the face of danger! I spit in the teeth of terror! I am of course a pragmatic man, and respectful, and would not wish to deprive you of your glory!" declared Misi, quite pleased with his monologue. Fields rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately, I don't have that type of scanner. But, our police freind here has been in the house before. For completely honest and legal reasons, I am sure, and not at all to be paid off" The fat policeman ignored the jibe. The prospect of an explosion that levelled Cairo had quitened him down. He had family here, after all. "There is the main reception, kitchen, dining area, and some lounges on the ground floor. No cellar, as far as I know. On the top floor, the master bedroom, some guest bedrooms, and ah...an entertainment room. Where one might imagine people go to smoke, drink, and see pretty girls dancing..." He blushed.

OOC for this

GM Oct 6th, Down South! On a dusty road, in a dusty desert, full of desert heat... Venomax was looking into poisons, toxins, and chemicals. And rumour had it, down here, in this strange remote landscape, there was some might fine poisons, of the toxic variety. And toxins of the poisonous variety. Scorpions! Venomax was entering the "town" of Littlebig Rock. It was hardly a town, more a collection of dusty buildings on a dusty road. But here, some old doctor lived, purpotedly proposing that the scorpions and toxins of this little old area of the world where the worst in the world? Was he right? He was drinking and smoking the day away just outside his home. Venomax could see him outside, drinking, and smoking. A thin leathery man, with dark wrinkled skin, dressed half like a cowboy, half like a shaman, and half like a gentleman. And probably half like something completely different. The sign above the door proclaimed this to be a dentists, for Doctor "Teeth" Whitefish as indeed a dentist. Or at least proclaimed to be.

GM "Hey, thats fine with me. Im a scientist. A field scientist. But even a field scientist is not a soldier. And it doesn't look like we are going to get any cavalry soon..." With a bit of wrangling, and cajouling, the spy and the police officer were persuaded or forced to agree it was the only, or at least the best, solution. Turning back to the Scarab, a relieved looking agent Fields expressed her thanks. "You got my thumbs up. And my gratitude. But please be careful, if not for yourself, then for the residents of Cairo. We literally have no idea what a corrupted Daka Crystal might do. Well...we do have an idea. It just doesn't really bear thinking about. I don't want the city levelled..." she added, nervously. "If you need any help, let me know..il stay in radio contact if I see any abnormal readings!"

GM As surprising as the formatio of the Dust Devil Was, the group of bohemians response was rather muted. Of the five of them, one appeared in a trance, one appeared unconscious, one stood up and declared himself Lord Emporer of Dune (giving a salute), his eyes fixed in the distance, and one of them mumbled something about "see...told you...I saw him coming!" to the others, her head down, studying her shoes. The last one, a rarther portly woman wearing black tie (and bow tie), with a big grin on her face, seemed more with it than her four friends. "What! Who are you! Whelp! Abdul is at the Mesa!" she blubbered, before putting her hand over her mouth. The band, engrossed in their music, kept playing. A peppering of gasps came from the dozen other audience members.

GM With masonry this old, seeping into the Yellow Sign was easy. There where almost too many choices! With no particular clue as to which one would be better, or worse, the Dust Devil chose one and seeped in. And ended up... In the lavatories! Well, aside for the ignobility of entrance, and the faint whiff of unpleasant aroma, it was a boon. For said toilets where currently unoccupied, and poorly lit anyway. And if he felt the call of nature, from excitement or anxiety (or just the ebb and flow of biological parameter) well, he had certainly come to the right place - for as fortune had it, they appeared to be the gentleman's. The Dust Devil could hear the sound of slow and sexy Jazz coming from nearby. There was the faintest sound of conversation. He guessed that the stage was nearby, possibly even next door. Peeking through the door, his suspicion was confirmed! The stage was on the other side of the door, but fortunately nobody was looking - they were captivated by Jazz! The audience was not large, maybe a dozen, maybe two dozen. A mixed bag of bohemians. And a small group of rich kids dressed like Bohemians, all looking rather dazed and confused, and almost hypnotised...

GM And so, in the evening, same Dust- day, same Dust - channel... The merely magnificent dust devil flew over head on a dark, overcast autumn night, with only a pale hint of moon to be seen in the sky. Below him, the Yellow Sign! 'Twas an old brick building, crumbling, speaking of dust and history, not well advertised, not well lit, not well attended, by the looks of things. From what the Dust Devil had gathered, it was a small Jazz bar, serving drinks, with a reputation for musicians that liked drinks. A lot of drinks. Tonight some minimalist three piece (Drums, Bass, Sax) was playing some slow, melancholic style. The Yellow Sign had a bit of reputation for exlcusivity, turning its crumbling architecture into a pull. Lots of rumours and stories about its histories, from ghosts to mafia hideouts. Even some stories about sorcerous pirates! as if...

GM "Steal? What do you mean! It's mine...I mean ours...in the first place!" "Ill be sure to tell Abdul! We need...we want that leaf!" he half-shouted, angrily. He tried to get up to his feet. Too fast. He slumped onto his backside again. He tried again, more slowly this time, and whilst he was unsteady he did manage to stand up reasonably straight and stagger off, mumbling something about the Snake Gods and the Queens of Tomorrow. Gibberish, surely. "Well, I guess that's the mix up" sighed Amy. "I bet Adbul's pretty livid about a recieving a dozen dried noodles" she laughed. "Look, I am sure they can do this legally, but they sound pretty desperate for that leaf and tried to do it without the fuss. Maybe he thought some intimidation or money would get it back fast" she wondered. "What do you want to do about it? I don't want you getting in any more hot water. Although I'm glad you socked him one rather than he socked me!"

GM "More than potentially. Probably, I would say!" replied Agent Fields, feeling smart by association. As she pointed out a few more interesting bits of data (after all, who could not resist the fascinating demonstration of metaobservational wave collapse in hyperalligned molecular isomorphism?) the tall Egyptian man - the intelligence officer - piped up. "You mean somebody has powered themselves with the crystal! Why, how interesting! The potential for weaponisation is....considerable!" he said keenly. "It is an abomination, by Allah! Man is God's cretaion and it is not for Man to change himself!" spat out the fat police officer who, despite his considerable corruption, appeared to have cherry picked certain parts of scripture to give himself the joy of righteousness. Fields turned to the Scarab. "Honestly, I am glad you are here. I have my hands full sorting out these two here!" she sighed. "We really can't let a Daka crystal, a corrupted Daka crystal, fall into the wrong hands. Officially, the Egyptian government has signed a declaration of coorperation with the UN on this matter, but unofficially, we have to work on the ground, with different persons with differing agenda's..."

Mr. Murk "Ah yes. Morgen. She is an strange woman, young and old. Quite...fierce...." said Mr. Murk, pondering her. "I see visions of her in the future, which indicates I think she will exert her will on the cosmos. And quite a will it is, I think. Not anybody has the strength of will to burn out their own eye. I wonder..." "Nevertheless, it seems she has immortality now, of a sort. I am not quite sure what sort either. She can clearly hibernate for centuries, and seems to have aged not a day. She so desperately needs some sanctuary in this modern world, and I am pondering inviting her to sign the Codus. But something tells me she will not be bound by any oath or law" "I would value your assessment on this matter, my friends. Invitation is not an easy thing, for every time it is offered, it runs the risk of the club exposing itself to the wider world which, for now at least, would defeat its purpose of sanctuary" "As for Doctor Sin, that is another matter again. I daresay he has engineered his defeat in some way and is playing a long game. Do you have opinion on this?"

GM It was a fair conclusion, but the Rat did wonder if Neisha was turning speculation into fact. Conflating the two. Thinking too rigid could get you killed. "Thank you very much for all your help" she said, politely. "We'll be sure to do whatever we can. Right?" she gave a nod at the other heroes there. She didnt really know them. But she guessed by the end of the night, she would know them a whole lot better. She turned to Venomax and Akhona. "Well, this is a strange situation. I can't work out if we are given a blank slate to work with, or no slate at all. Or perhaps both" she said, laying on the enigma heavily. "I can handle myself in a fight. Up to a point. But really, you can best think of me as a spy!" she said, hand on hip, green eyes flashing. I pretty much AM a spy. But sometimes honesty is the best way to lie! "I can go undercover inside. Probably the best. Or, I could just hover outside in the Ratcopter, my super secret spy vehicle!" she said brightly! It was not a bad idea. The Ratcopter did have a whole array of snooping technology!