Supercape
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GM The Tuna was, as said, a delicacy. Mayhap on another day, with another bowl of tuna, with another fleshy treat, the rabid dogs would have chosen to chomp jaw around succulent thigh (or other limb of equally succulent nature), but today... ...they paused. Eyes moved left to tuna, and eyes moved right to Ms. Jessica Witchblood. And eyes move left and right again. And, to punctuate their indescicion, once more did they move left, and once more right. Then, slobbering tongue decided. They punced on the tuna. Gaseous and noxious brimstone was their breath, and their breath, it should be said, was both Gaseous and noxious - for the point must be made clear that these were not ordinary dogs but canines of the most infernal variety. For now, the dogs were distracted, but they were eating so very fast...
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GM "Its not a long term solution, but its the only damn solution I have, kid" said Moon, irritated now. I ain't seeing bow-girl coming up with better. Maybe that thought was just in his head. Maybe he muttered it half-audibly. Such was his vexed reflex. He cooled down quickly though, giving a smile and a glinting eye. "I save one life, its a net win. Thats a good day in Bedlam. Much as I'd love to clean up Bedlam, I ain't got a plan for that, other than a nuke" he explained. "What's your plan for that?" he asked, his question having a taunting edge. It was, after all, easier said than done.
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GM The plasma coiled around Imprint in a most peculiar form, and most peculiar smell. It was like ozone with a touch of burnt sugar. In any case, it was accompanied by a most peculiar shrill shriek that went to ultrasonic ranges and would give the skull a jolly good rattling. It was not pleasant to hear, but fortunately it did not last long, for Imprint promptly shrunk further and... Pop! She vanished! Nay, not a trace of her was left. Vanished to oblivion. Or perhaps elsewhere! Down below, Block head twirled once, twice, and clutched his head. "Oh! I feel so empty!" he wailed, sinking to his knees, all five faces deeply melancholic. The fight had gone right out of him...
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Giving an HP to Dreadnought to make Dreadnought - 2 HP - Unharmed Because of his extreme noticeability / recognisability (and the Hornet's superior intelligence)! If anyone can make a DC 20 Streetwise roll they can clock that most of the goods in the Warehouse look smuggled (no proof, but the packaging and labels all point that way). DC 20 Tech to spot some cutting edge poison-weapons in some cases.
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GM The Hornet replied with snide intelligence. "Cactus boy? I am neither a boy, nor a cactus" he said in fluent English with a Cantonese accent. The astute would judge it affected; the Hornet, whatever else he might be, was molded from pure cunning, from refined brains. "You are Dreadnought..English...Vanguard...yes, I know you. I know everyone I might meet" he said, taking a few steps back. But not in fear. No, in prudence. Tactical prudence. "Why are you here? This is private property, and the English have no jurisdiction here..." he pointed to the cameras on the ceilings, which had been lamentably out of view of the Skylight. "I just filmed you breaking and entering, I think..."
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GM At that moment, as per cunning plan (most expertly executed), Frost turned to mist and Dreadnoughts fist plowed through into the door. It promply exploded back, in a cloud of dust, and with it, a fair few blocks of masonry. So extreme the power, the door whipped through the warehouse and cut a hole in the opposite side of the building a good several dozen feet away. The hired hands looked scared. This was because they were scared. And not a soul look upwards to the skylight, where Voin was perched. Inside the building, loaded and half loaded crates full of merchandice that smelled of smuggling. Knock off goods, arts, and, yes, weapons and drugs. The hired hands held guns that looked like dart pistols, carved into the shape of a wasp or seprent or some other venomous insect. Some carried clubs and irons. And behind them, a man in green shiny armour, not tall, very slender, his body half crouched to spring away. The Hornet! "What are you doing? Why have you come?" he hissed in a low, surprisingly high-pitched voice...
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Bluffing, now, he actually knows something! Bluffing that he knows something...: 1d20+16 24
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Diamondlight Feigning ignorance was one thing. Feigning insight quite another. He put on his best poker face. "What would you like to know?" he asked, cool lips and velvet tones. He kept his face passive and his silver-blue eyes still. "I can't answer your questions if you don't ask them? What do you know? I can try and fill in the blanks..."
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Recovery made! Block Head is hit with Plasma, and:Zapped: 1d20+12 32 sucks it up. Imprint, however, is hit with a crit, and its a DC 30 Save: Save vs Plasma: 1d20+10 11 Stuff happens. We are out of combat!
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GM "<Get lost!>" "<Beat it!>" "<I'm Buddhist! Take your Christ elsewhere!>" "<Shhh! Stop shouting! You'll draw attention!>" Were a selection of the babble and cacophony behind the door. Aside from the voices, agitated foosteps and the muted sounds of firearms being pulled. Of what type of fire arm, there was another question. This was a smuggling dock. It could be anything from a peashooter to an illegal RPG. Possibly even a hybrid of both. Up above, Voin got a slightly better look of the figures. A dozen, maybe more figures backing away from the door and pointing weapons that side. Mainly firearms, from what she could tell, although quite possibly it was crowbars and machetes. Behind the dozen hired help was a tall thing figure with an angular silhouete. It was hard to say, through the old glass smudged with some livid green fungus, but he had a greener shade...
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Ok lets see if this works... Mr Murk is using dimensional travel, as per his array, Supermovement 1 (“the Murk”, Extras: Affects Others, Area [Burst], Feats: Progression Area 3 [50’ radius], Selective) [8/8 PP] Hopefully everyone agrees to come along! This doesn't get them out of the trap, but it does at least take them to another dimension, The Murk, where the walls may still be there but the ghosts may not. As per character sheet, the Murk has crunmbling gloomy analogues of the real world but does not exist where there is sunlight. THis may not work and feel free to bend and twist this, or just fiat it away, Ari. There is a littlle bit on the Murk in the PC sheet. It has the disadvantages of being a distraction DC 10 environment (spookiness, uneasiness, flies), and causing 1 WIS damage / hour, but hopefully we wont need it that long!
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Mr. Murk "Out of here? Yes, indeed. No use in denying it. We have bitten off more than we can chew..." He furrowed his brow. "Don't worry so about being blind. It means you cannot be deceived by your eyes, in any case" he muttered, drawing his own senses and insight into the situation. He did not look left, nor look right, nor down did he look, nor up either. But he sensed up. "Boxed in like rats in a trap. Like snakes in a pit" he concluded. "We need to go upwards, even if we grope dust and dirt and grime. There is something above us. To ascend, so often, is to escape. This is primal and true..." he concluded. He was not certain. But he never was. Instead, he was certain he was uncertain, and comfortable with it. "Freinds, prepare yourself for a journey..."
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GM "I hadn't much time for a plan" conceded Moon. "One step at a time. Getting her somewhere safe was the idea..." he looked around. "Not sure here is entirely safe. This is Shotgun Simon's digs. He is a crazy as they come, and, yes, he has a shotgun" he explained. "He isn't exactly safe, but on the other hand he usually doesn't have a bone to pick with the downtrodden. Usually..." He was a little nervous now. "Best bet in a bad spot, however. And as crazy as Shotgun Simon is, he isn't as dangerous as the Man in the mask, and that guy in the shades. Yeah, I saw them..." he said, his silver eyes glinting. "I can see anything in the city, if its bathed in moonlight. Even you..." "If they are still around, the city ain't safe. And you aren't in any position to hunt the hunters. Not today. Not even next week, by the looks of you. At least the woman is safe..."
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GM The door opened, not too fast for alarm, not too fast for fear. Her robe wrapped a little tighter round her, the cigarette snubbed out. She frowned; not too tightly too distort her face, but a frown undeniably. "Who are you? The Sunhawk?" she said, although Lady Horus suspected a click of familiarity in Ms. Eve's eyes. "And what are you doing in my house? Come to rob me?" she asked, defiantly. Lady Horus caught sight of a derringer antique (although perfectly servicible) in her right hand, hidden behind robe and wall. It would do little, of course, to hurt Lady Horus, but the fact it was in her hand was interesting. Lady Eve showed not a hint of fear, but she was not bold to the point of stupidity either. Lady Horus got the impression that she was dealing with an astute, intelligent and cunning woman.
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GM "No, it is not" replied Moon, in response to the quite accurate assessment of the police force of Bedlam. "And I can't change that. I doubt you can. Maybe nobody can, least, not today or tomorrow" He looked back at the girl. "That's why we ain't going to get the police down here. Or get you patched up at a police station" he said, slow and deep. "I don't know what you mean about my eyes" he continued. "They are blue. Must be the moonlight" he smiled, knowing quite well that it wasn't the moonlight. And knowing quite well that Arrowhawk knew it wasn't the moonlight either. "Let's just say I got some ways of lookingf at things that are quite...unique..." he said, a smile now. "If you trust me, I can help you in the future. But I'm guessing you ain't really the trusting kind..."
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GM The woman got up, quite scared, trembling in fact. The detective calmed her down. "Don't worry, don't worry. She's an idiot, that's all. Not the dangerous type of idiot, the one that sucks their thumb and wears a silly hat" he said, kindly. Well, kindly to the trembling woman anyway. He turned to Arrowhawk, hands in his pockets, silver blue eyes glinting. "You remember me, right, Detective Marcus Moon. One of the good guys round here" he said, his voice soft but with a kind of velvet steel behind it, born of wisdom and intelligence. "What happened out there? Looks like you got the wrong end of some lead. And more besides. I hope you gave out as good as you got?" He did not move but cast those strange silver eyes over her in more detail. Despite the dim light, his vision was apparently excellent. "You need medical attention. I'm no doctor, but I can try to patch you up. I know a bit..."
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Round 4 35 - Dr D - Sickened Status (DC 16 to Recover) 2 HP 21 - The House/Imprint - Bruised 5 - Manneq - 2 HP - Fatigued Dr D is up again, and remember that recovery roll from round 3 (DC 17) and now round 4 (DC 16)!
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Mr. Murk Formatting Error (1) Diamondlight Cretan Connection (3) Rev The Only Thing I Know (1) Rene And The Moon Is In Shock (Post to go to Ronin) (1) Curveball Service (2) GM Icy Juice (11) Poor Target (9) Block Head (4) Robots and Rangs (2) Hung from the neck (2) Violence is Golden (21) Iron Works (9) Glass and Gold (4) Guide point to Snakebite GM Posts (I make 62 = 124 Bonus) 25 Posts to Echohead and Snakebite (3 PP), 23 Posts to bump up Diamondlight (3 PP), 24 Posts to bump up Mr Murk to 25 (3 PP), and the remaining 2 Posts to give 1 Post / 1 PP to Lament and Sgt Shark each. If I fall short on GM posts could you give only 14 Posts to Mr Murk to bump him up to 15 (And give 1 Post to Lament and Sgt Shark)
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Mr. Murk The memories of fire and spear and times distant were oozing through his mind, but then cold water ignited other memories. Some good, most bad. Icy water was like that. The fresh pangs of pain and the less palpable satisfaction of refreshment. And cold cold nights in London Town. Irrespective of his peculiar wandering through memory lane, he was back in the world of the living. He felt his jaw throb, and his nose crack. He had been through worse. But still.... He grunted upwards and pulled himself to his feet by pure will. He checked his bowler hat was on. 'Twas good that it was, else he would be most vexed. "What, friends, has transpired?" he grunted. He felt blood on his mouth.
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Wow yes! Thank you for catching this! BUgzapper Tough Save: 1d20+10 17 Giving Imprint a Bruise.
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GM Imprint, for her part, had such rising vexations that she was propelled to action. In other words, she snapped. She shrank to a few inches in the blink of an eye, leaving in the chunk of masonry a woman-sized hole. The blue costumed woman flew out of the masonry now quite free, but annoyed. "Discarding the bond! Cutting the umblicus! This pleases me not at all, you philistine! Ah! How shall humanity rue this day, when the future was halted. Well, I shall ensure it is only a delay, not a disaster. Yes! The thought of poor homeless children crying themselves to sleep in the street shall light the fires of fury!" she screamed, full on Shakespeare. With that she flew at Mannequin and pressed her hands into his chest...imprinting herself on his brain....
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This being the case, Imprint will shrink down to a few inches, thus disenganging from the masonry as a free action, and fly to Maneq as a move action. Then, going for a mind control touch range: Mind COntrol: 1d20+14 24 is a hit, and causes a DC 20 Will Save vs Mind Control
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GM The theatre was, of course, most dramatic and most effective. The thugs outside the warehouse, greasy haired broken nosed scarred and mean, did naturally take several seconds to take in the spectacular nature of the play, but once they realised that the events, whilst implausible, were actually not only possible but happening, action was taken. Which meant running inside the warehouse. "<Don't lead him here!>" shouted one more astute thug in Cantonese. On the roof of the ware house, Voin has a good view of the action, and also several chimneys, hatches, and even a grimy skylight that she could work with. THe skylight was, it must be said, stained with purple and green and smelt rather foul. It was hard to see through (and one would not wish to press nose to close to the glass) but she could see movement below...
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GM Ms. Emily Eve, as it happened, was an early riser. She was already up, smoking via a cigarello and studying herself in the mirror, a potent black coffee with luxuriant aroma sitting on her dresser, half drunk. She was dressed in an antique gown, and sat in a room of antique flavour. Stylish, elegant, old. Ms. Emily Eve was much the same, although hardly old. One would estimate her age as a healthy fourty, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. Mid length curled blonde hair, ruby lips, and with a ruddy healthy complexion. Whilst not handsome she was not unattractive either, and had a slim healthy figure. She too projected an aura of collected elegance that belonged more in the past than the future. For now, at least, she did not notice Lady Horus. Instead, she smoked, drank her coffee, and studied - quite carefully - an array of newspapers detailing the murder...
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Tuned by Fox. Rev 11 PP to Spend Saves 1 PP +1 to Reflex to make +13 (+3 Dex, +10) Skills 3 PP Craft (Chemical) +4 ranks to make 4 (+6) Craft (Structural) +2 ranks to make 2 (+4) Drive +2 ranks to make 14 (+17) Skill Mastery Pilot +4 ranks to make 4 (+7) Feats 3PP Favoured Opponent (Vehicles) Power Attack Ultimate Effort (Drive) For no cost could you change improved trip to improved throw as this is a better fit. Powers: 4 PP 1 PP; Add Feature (Internal Compartment in Chest) [1 PP] 1 PP; Add 1 rank of Leaping to make it Leaping 3 (x10 distance; Running 200', Standing 100', High 50') [3 PP] 2 PP; Add 2 Feats to Super Strength to make it Super Strength 2 (+10 Effective Strength, Feats: Countering Punch, Groundstrike) [6 PP]