Supercape

Should add thats a despair effect (-2 Attack, -2 Defence, -2 "Checks") Initiative Now is: Pixie and GD and Ludwig: 3#1d20 18 8 13 translating, with bonuses to (Ludwig wins DEX match) Round 1: 31 - Pixie - Unharmed 17 - Ludwig - Unharmed 17 - Fascimile - Unharmed - Shaken- Fatigued - 3 HP 15 - Gravedigger - Bruised, Staggered If you post that response to despair that would be cool, then Ill get to Ludwig!

FAsc is Shaken! (-2 on prety much all rolls!) as an emotion control effect. Feel free to post a reaction to that

Rev "Wow! This is like a scene from Gunbusters 7!" muttered Rev. "Not that...ah....I ever watched it, of course, as its certificate 18. But you know, if I had watched it, it would look like this" she explained hastily. Not that she could actually see the red glow. She couldm't see red. Normal red, anyway. Infrared, another matter. "But, er, I can't say that was in any Gunbusters movie..." she added as she saw the strange silhouette. "Err...we come in peace! Here to save you! Heroic heroes!" she blabbered with her normal clumsy but effective charm. In her heart, she felt that it was likely a swipe with a cybenetic fist was needed...

Will Save DC 20 please! vs Music: 2#1d20 17 17 when you add Pixie and Gravediggers will bonus, they both make it! Initiative rolls would be good too!

GM At this, the faceless Ludwig turned, and his face had no changed, to that of a deformed, angry ogre. A second later, again, it changed to a mournful child full of despair. "It is though, It is your concern. This place is not of my creation, but I have made it my own! It is the place of sadness and despair!" he said, dramatically. At this, his music took a morbid turn. Whereas before it was beautiful, and melodic, and sad, now, it was magnified in intensity. Still beautiful, still melodic, still sad, but like black lightning it struck the very soul...

Know (Art): 1d20+8 16 Now theres a skill that doesn't get much action. I approve!

GM "Alas! Woe! Lamentations!" muttered Ludwig, his brow pressed against one forearm theatrically. "And yet..." His white blank face turned towards Fascimile once again. "I trust you not. Wicked whispers in the wind, this place. I can hear them. Who knows what you say, who knows if it be true or false? Not you! And not I!" he continued, firmly. "All I know is my loss, my grief, and that it spurs me down a road from which there is no deviation, no, not none...." he added. "Let me play you a tune of my sorrow..." He started mounfully playing on his violin once more... "Let us kill him! kill him now!" he demanded of Fascimile.

GM "Dwarf? Ya mean like in that nerd wizard film? or as in a little dude?" he asked, suspicious for a moment. You could never tell in Bedlam! Presuming it was the latter, he proceeded. "Probably is good enough for me. But the damn cops and the damn law says you need evidence" he muttered, almost spitting out the last word in a seething wave of vexation. "Or a lot of money to bribe the cops. Or you know, maybe you happen to drop an oil can and a firelighter on the dude's back garden and you know, maybe its evidence..." "So whatya got for me? Evidence or..." he winked "evidence?" he said, slowly and knowingly.

Diamondlight "I think the Freedom League have their hands fall right now. At least, to full to investigate a hole in the ground" answered August with a faint smile on his hands. "Besides which, where is your spirit of adventure?" he asked with his smile becoming less faint. "I don't like holes. Well, holes in the ground. Other holes...can be a different matter" he said deadpan. "Like a hole in one playing Golf" he added. "Why, what did you think I meant?" he said, faux shock on his face. "But still, I can get my hands dirty here! Although a rope, hard hat and torch would be a good idea...." he added. So equipped from the stores of the High Steaks, the men working, and in the case of the rope, the nearest climbing sports shop, Diamondlight carefully descended, swinging said torch as he did. He hoped the place wouldn't collapse....

GM "There are all manner of dead risen" said Ludwig, calmly. He turned his back and started wandering the empty fallen rocks, almost aimlessly. "Ghosts spectral, and the flesh of the fallen. And yet, I cannot quite reach my beloved...." he said, mournfully. "I cannot stop, you see. I must have her back, so terribly taken from the world. I cannot rest until she is in my arms once more. Ah! her taste!" he sighed. "The ghost you saw...was it her? Beautiful and pale, dancing on still waters?"

GM The music stopped abruptly, and left in its wake a hauntingly beautiful silence that echoes around the masonry. Despite the entropic ruin of the place, the acoustics were still splendid. The white mask like face turned to FAscimile, apparently eyeless but clearly seeing all the same. "It is I" he said, in what must have been an Austrian or Germanic accent. "Strange to see the living. Even if you are not quite flesh, not quite blood, and not quite bone" he explained, in reference to Fascimile's stony state. "You witch-man! You bring de dead back to dance to yer tune!" grunted the Gravedigger, and yet for all his ferocity he was still. "Only one, I seek. My love, lost to cruel men and cruel kings" sighed Ludwig silently. "And what do you come to this place for? Why do you seek me?"

GM The Doctor looked awkward. "Expected? No...well, no exactly expected...." he mumbled. "I mean, I did discuss theoretical possibilities of using corrupted Daka crystals to harness unstable metadynamic energy" he explained. "Purely theoretically of course. Well, purely theoretically with a bit of highly detailed explanation on how to do it. Including prototypes" he conceded. "Look, it all seemed like a good idea at the time!" he blurted. "I mean, look at those guns! Magnificent! Look at that polychromatic glow! They must be very powerful. Thank goodness it is so unstable and those weapons wont last. Phew! No need to worry about them falling into the wrong hands, they are sure to blow up in a massive explosion sooner or later!" he said. "Probably sooner..." he added.

GM Bedlam Police Dept... "Oh sweet Jesus and his band of merry men" groaned Slate, mangling his theological and historical figures. He poured himself some more cold coffee and popped some paracetamol. "I gotta a helluva hangover, lady. And I tell ya, I ain't getting no damn younger. I gotta get up three times in the night. Doc says I got a prostate the size of a plum, and as for my back passage, let me tell me ya...." He clammed his mouth shut at the thought and swigged down his stone cold coffee. He was irritable. Well, more irratable than normal. Short on sleep, hungover, and drowning in the crimes of Bedlam City. Which included suspected arson, apparently. "What can I do for you, anyhow? You got a name for me or something?" he said, half hopeful.

GM "Impressive" said Doctor Norris North, studying Replica carefully. "As for the glass...woman. Or thing. I am not sure I can. I am not sure anybody can" he said, studying it carefully. "It is, at least to some degree dangerous. And also potentially very useful. Is it sentient? Does it die? Many many unanswered questions..." He gave Doctor Tweed a stern look. "And not, I think, questions that are entirely safe if left completely in the hands of ASTRO labs and our friend here..." he said. "Still, we shall do what we can, I am sure" he conceded. "I am no expert, but it may be that just as the form of the glass is mercurial, so is the cognitive architecture. Not that artificial intelligence is my area of expertise" he added, hastily. "However, I do have others to call in on in that department. And we always have ASTRO labs. Where, I suggest, we head now before this becomes a media storm" he suggested to both Replica and Doctor Tweed. "Unless you object?"

GM Violence was surely in the air, and yet it might wait a moment for the music. Ludwig was playing in the centre of the state and playing divinely quite lost in his art. He was of average build with a mop of long unkempt red hair and was Dresden in fine 18th century style. And yet his clothes hung in a scruffy manner. His face was faceless. As if he was wearing a white porcelain mask.

GM "Crash and slash" muttered the Gravedigger grimly. Whilst still hurt, and hurt badly, he had at least had time to catch his breath. "Dont be such a meanie" muttered Pixie right back. "Its beautiful. The music, I mean!" "Much as hate 'im, he has talent" conceded the Gravedigger. "I don't know what we should do" explained Pixie. "Nothing about this seems right. But doing nothing definately feels wrong" she concluded, with perhaps accidental wisdom. "I got me a plan. We go in and cut off his head!" determined the Gravedigger. "Seems right!" With that, he started to get up from the ground...

GM Replica was half-right. In a matter of minutes, in a sprinkling of seconds, in a mound of moments, a car pulled up. It was, she noted, a rather beat up, second hand, completely unremarkable car. Either it was possessed by someone a little econonical with his or her economy, or it was driven by someone who wanted to draw absolutely no attention whatsoever. Out stepped a white-faced Archibald Tweed. "Oh my" he is comment, and several times he so commented. But the driver was another man. An unasmmunig middle aged man with spectacles and moustache, an inquisitive twinkle in his eyes, dressed in a rather bland jacket and turtleneck. Aside from his slightly seventies feel, he was, like his car, a man who looked quite ordinary. With Archibald looking awkward, the other man stepped in. "Allow me to introduce myself. Norris North. Doctor Norris North. I'm helping my freind Doctor Tweed out..." he said, firmly, whilst Doctor Tweed looked even more shameful. "Quite a little mess here..." he said, examining Treestock. The ambulance was surely only a minute or two away, but it seemed Doctor North was a medical doctor, and he performed some smooth first aid before looking at Replica. "Care to fill me in?" he asked.

We shall see what mysteries marinate in a medley of marvels.

GM And so... As it turned out, it was not much further at all. A tramp through dust and mud, grey moonlight, and dotted gravestones. Avoiding the shuffling zombie and skeletons is spasm - or, if the mood so took them, crushing skull under boot and parting rotting head from rotting body with swift swipe of machete. And then, in a time that felt both short and indeterminate (my, how things felt strange in this strange place) they came up to a colloseum. Of sorts. For now it was crumbling rock, half collapsed, with patches of virbrant green moss and vaguely poisonous-looking creeper vines. And from its unseen centre, obscured by fallen masonry in repose, came beautiful violin music...

Starshot Pressing the advantage, Starshot advanced forward. In the back of his head, he was already wonderinghow to get inside the actual compound. Well, getting in was not going to be a problem with time. The problem was getting into the compound in time. Before advantage was lost. He pushed this from his mind, lest it distract him. Laser beams and blaster bolts were flying around, but he pushed these thoughts away to. Was this really any different from hunting a beast of muscle and bone? Just because it was electronics and steel, the same spike of adrenaline...the same thrill....was fuelling him. "You're terminated!" he yelled at the Robot (an unwitting reference. He hadn't seen any earth films since 1941) and ran straight into the Robot, launching a flying kick with all his strength...

In which case, as no immediate entrance to the Compound right now, lets see if we can finish off that robot! Startle Robot2: 1d20+10 27 for Move Action Startle Then an all out power attack, fully shifted. AOPA on Robot: 1d20+12 14 Im going to have to reroll that with an HP AOPA reroll: 1d10+22 26 now I hope that hits! If it does, DC 28 Toughness Save. EDIT: If a move action is need to reach the robot, forgoing the startle (should still hit!)

GM With all the smashing and flying and so on, Bitey's cage has smashed. Not that Bitey could do anything about it other than complain, in Latin. Propelling oneself along the ground by means of your jaw only was a virtually impossible task, even if you were just a rotting head without any matching body. "He ain't happy. But at least he isnt getting poked around...by which I mean tortured...by our friend" muttered Pixie. She was hoppiong slightly from left to right, uncomfortable when she recalled how the Gravedigger had treated the skull. And doubly uncomfortable since the Gravedigger was also smashed about himself now. Was the pain of a living body the same as that of a dead one? "Witch Man he ain't made of steel, like you and me are" muttered the Gravedigger to Fascimile. "He no warrior. He be a sorcerer, and me sure 'im bleed like any man. And if not, me got this..." he explained, indicating his machete. "Me enchanted it, y'see. It make anything bleed!"

GM "Safe, sure...." And but a moment or two later... "Safe! Safe! I want safe!" whimpered the Doctor as he was hoisted up to the roof of the warehouse. "This is most assuredly NOT safe! I might fall! I have sensitive person disorder!" he complained. "What if I get shot AND fall! or fall...and am SHOT!?" he asked, blabbering away, his tongue loosened by adrenaline. "There he is! Mohammed Misi! My first cousin, fathers side, by all the swine in Egypt!" spat the doctor. Mohammed was deep in discussion with a few other thugs, all of whom looked concerned. One thing of particular note is that they carried rather scruffy looking guns. Not your regular ballistic variety, oh no. Instead, guns that looked like they had been dragged out of a 1960s Sci Fi film...

Is the door still open?

GM "Uuuuhh....I feel like I bin hit by a train" groaned the Gravedigger. "mmmhh....but I'm tougher than I look, yeah? Me huntin zombies and ghouls, I put enchantment on me body. Make me strong..." he said, proudly. But even still, he needed some help getting up. "I'm hurt. Bad. But I make it, yeah! We can still go...." he said, detemined. He gripped his machete even tighter. "But me not eat suchi again, haha. Dat de truth!" he said, his voice now pale despite his iron will. "Oh dear. You poor man" said Pixie, sadly, appearing by his side in the blink of an idea. "Never mind dat, woman. We got a job to do. And when me find the witch man, me do more to 'im dan break a few ribs..." he grinned, fueled by vengeance.