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GM As Doctor Deoxy cut away with his eyes, he could feel a rumbling around him. Crash! Bang! Whallop! Falling Masonry fell through him. One might, if so inclined, have thought that it was simply a matter of falling masonry in an unstable building. But it had the feeling of intent. Of malign will. Imprint was fighting back! "Oh no you don't! Stop interfering!" she demanded, the voice resonating through the building. "Hmmm....you have turned into some energy being, have you!" she mumbled, irritated, frustrated, but full of cunning. "Don't think you can fight me, here, this is my territory! Or more precisely, the territory is me!" And with that the building started rumbling, emitting a horrible ultrasonic scream that would rattle any ear...
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GM "Mmm, it is true. You did resolve those situations" conceded Armitage, stroking his beard. "A fair testament. So you are, in essence, a double edged sword" he summarises. He did not look best pleased with the situation, but he was not adamant about his position either. "What, then, do you propose? Are you to secrete the mask in some secret Headquarters, away from prying eyes? With salt circles and arcane spells and seal against its malign force?" he asked. It had the same veneer of politeness, but underneath he was penetrating. "One might imagine you would need assistance in such matters" he added. "If not from me, then at least someone with suitable expertise in history and occultism. Unless your expertise ran to such matters?" "I can put you in touch with a guy!" yelled Zyte, filming every word.
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Post it IC, and its a reasonable thing to do. However, the building will retaliate so post half cutting her out? For the sake of success how about Craft (Structural) roll?
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GM "Sure, sure!" said the Sweaty Mr. Brick, holding his hands out expansively and looking evasive. "I am a businessman! We can do business!" he said, as if this vapid statement was anything but totally redundant and without meaning. "Power!" grumbled the building. Or imprint. Or both. Or...well, it was clearly complicated. But the answer seemed straightforward enough. "I can imprint my psyche into the metamorphic masonry! Think of the applications! Endless viral self building cities, that transform according to my...er....people's will! What could not be accomplished! Think of it! The housing shortages gone! Self assembling rooms! Can you imagine a building that transforms itself according to me...er...your...whim?" she asked. "Just get me out of here! HELP!" yelled the woman half melded to the building. Poor old Hettie the Hammer, used to crushing kneecaps in the service of Mr. Brick, was not best pleased with the building crushing her rather than the usual state of affairs which was quite the opposite.
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Take care of that spine! Its holding you back. Er. Holding your back.
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GM Armitage stiffened. "Indeed. It can indeed cause trouble. I don't see how that qualifies you to keep hold of it?" he asked. There was politeness, diplomacy in his voice but it was a penetrating question nonetheless. "You have a reputation. Not all bad. But nuclear power stations and this and that. Trouble seems rather to gravitate towards you rather than away. You may prefer to keep the mask within loose distance of yourself, but is that your feeling or the magnetic influence of the mask itself?" he asked. "History would suggest that the safest place was very far from you indeed" He paused and mitigated his statement. "That said, there are worse places, I am sure. Like in the hands of Elizabeth Drake. But still, I would question your assessment of the matter, and your qualifications of safety. Or understanding, come to that" he explained. "You lack the experience in such matters, do you not?"
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GM Armitage looked at the Quadbikers and raised an Eyebrow. "Drake, surely" he said with certainty. "Hired guns, hired thugs. It is not really her style, but she would do anything to regain her youthful vigour. I am an old man myself and I confess the cold bones of venerable age are not desirable. She, however, has fixated on the fountain of youth beyond anything remotely sane" he explained. "I shall have to have words with her. Or perhaps other avenues of communication. I am not without means, if I have time to prepare" he said both cryptically and grimly. "I would not say I am a warlock. But that is because I do not reveal myself" he said with a smile thin and cruel. He looked at the bag. "And that mask might be what I need. May I?" he asked Bonfire, holding out his hand for the item.
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GM "Sure, sure, emergency services, you got it!" replied Zyte, giving the thumbs up. "Police, Fire, Ambulance!" he said, holding up three fingers. With impressive expertise, he kept filming and phoned said emergency services in an ambidextrous display of media savvy. The bag with the mask in it remained on the ground. True, it had been frozen, steamed, and blasted with hot air, but bar the odd singing, it was intact. And the bone mask was equally intact. It seemed to bristle with glee at the carnage around it, but perhaps that was just an illusion - it looked like a skull after all, albeit a malformed one, and skulls always looked like they were grinning. Still, it seemed to be a gleeful grin... It was an impressively short time before the sirens were heard, and as they rung out in the distance, Armitage opened his eyes and dusted off his tweed suit. "Goodness me, that was cold! freezing! in fact" he muttered, his skin still wan and white. "What happened?"
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GM The fire rained down mightily, and the spandex suffered equally mightily. There was the crisp smell of burning plastic around Chill Pill, and it was not pleasant. Fortunately, he did not have to suffer the shame of his shredded costume, nor of the pungent aroma that would vex any conscious nostril. Instead, what with smoke and heat and the wafts of singed earth around him, he simply passed out, his flesh even redder and blacker than it had been. "Boom! Got it all!" said Zyte standing up from the Bushes and zooming in on Bonfire overhead.
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Snakebite The Crow Family History The Crow family are first mentioned in the Domesday book (1086), as residents of Canterbury Cathedral. Of course, tracing families back a thousand years is an obscure business, but there is mention of a scholar – clergyman of that time, and there are fragmented works of Latin stored still within that place of worship attributed to him, Seprens ad Regnum Diablo (The Serpent Kingdom of the Devil). It is believed that Edwald Crowe, the gentleman in question, was quite mad. As we progress through the centuries, the family are mentioned in obscure references throughout the South of England and London, but with references too in Scotland and France. There appears to be at least a hint of Celtic lineage to the family, and red hair is a frequent reference. By the 17th Century, there is more firm evidence of the Crow Family, who now appeared to have started a Mercantile Business in silks and was doing well. Interwoven with this wealth were two important threads. Firstly, the Crow family had a reputation for witchcraft that stretched back to Edwald, and secondly, they were known as scholars as well as businessmen. Winchester Crow was a particularly notorious member of the family. He was apparently a lunatic, and committed to Bedlam hospital were he created a number of disturbing artworks now stored away from all eyes. Winchester was eventually released, and perhaps due to bribery from the wealthy family. Whilst recovering in a family estate, he apparently murdered the butler with a steak knife and proclaimed himself the Snake King and that his murderous action was a sacrifice to a Roman Snake God. This did not go down well, and despite protestations of lunacy, he was hung from the neck until dead. In the 20th Century, the Crow family were essentially a matriarchy and campaigned vehemently for women’s rights. Vera Crow, who is now approaching ninety, was particularly vital in this area (as was her mother, Violet Crow, who was in the sufferage movement). By this time, the Crow family refused to change name upon marriage, and the children took their mothers name. This tradition actually intermittently appeared during the preceding centuries, but it was associated with witchcraft and sorcery and less potent in its application. Lemurian Heritage Unbeknownst to all but a few, and not understood well even then, the Crow family have Lemurian heritage. Whilst science can detect no significant abnormality in the genome, bar a few minor unknowns, the trait is still their and eldritch rather than genetic in nature (presumably – this is not clear!). The Crow family seem to have some natural affinity with snakes and a remarkably lithe, flexible body shape. More pertinent is the intermittent and variable levels of sorcery in the family. Many have some kind of second sight, able to see things in the past or future or from other dimensions. A rare fewer appear to have actually been witches, warlocks, or something of that ilk. Madness, of some form or another seems to pop up remarkably often in the family, although hand in hand with inspiration, genius, and creativity. Cassandra Crow Cassandra has always had a “second sight”, able to see what has happened in the past. Combined with her family traditions and wealth, and own clever aptitudes, this has made her a very successful historian, explorer, and archaeologist. After exploring Aztec ruins, Cassandra was infected with an ancient Lemurian poison and her latent serpentine qualities become more pronounced. Her senses, physical strength and reflexes are now improved, she is able to speak to snakes, and has that lithe, flexible body of a snake. By way of her family connections, and own success both material and academic, she is now honorary curator of the British Museum, and has filled its vaults and displays with antiquities, particularly from South America. This has made her respected and valued by the Museum – she is a skilled historian but she also keeps their displays filled with new acquisitions, for no charge. Understandably, this lead to them creating a specific new role (honorary curator) for her. When in England (or more specifically, London), she is often found in the Museum. However, she is at heart an explorer, and won’t stay there long! Adventuring! Snakebite travels the world unearthing old antiquities, cults, witchcraft, and various Elditch or mundane threats. She operates in that field just inbetween normal human and superhuman - her powers are actually few but she has peak physical performance and plenty of skills. Fighting wise she is a brawler using her physical strengths rather than a lot of training. She is handy with her whip, and carries a dart gun (it does not do to shoot people with real bullets in most areas!) when she fights. Whilst she is an academic and starts out as an investigator, explorer, and adventurer in principle, she is bold and feisty, and won't shy away from a brawl!
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GM Sunset at least recognised Fax, although he was distracted and preoccupied. "OK, yes. No. Well..." he replied, not quite sure of how to respond, or what the truth of the matter was. "I'm OK. This isn't. I dance with the devil every night, boy, but that trumpet was something wicked" he explained. "I put it away and ran like hell the day I played it. And now, well, I just can't stop thinking of the music. I want to play it again, and hear those flutes in my head, feel that terrible horror, and laugh at it all" he added, mopping his brow. "Those cats in their, they are trying to play the same music. I don't know how I feel about that. Its complicated" he said, pacing again and wringing his hands. "I want to play it, but I know what happened when I did...and I can feel something is up in the club. Like time is slow or fast or something. Like time doesn't really exist, or we don't understand it. Or space or anything" he said, gazing at the stars in the sky.
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GM "Faster than the Sun? Ha! What does that mean?" called back Chill Pill in retort. His eyes glowed a deep burning red again, after that massive exertion of cold energy. "That's stupid! Ha! You are stupid!" he concluded, his voice warbling and his eloquence, such as it was, dissolving back to schoolyard taunts. "Ill show you how to destroy a park! Ill save you, tree!" he laughed, and it was a pretty cracked laugh. He pulled up the tree next to him in a fit of superhuman strength that showed off his bulging muscles (now exposed thanks to his tattered spandex). With a big grunt, he tossed the tree straight up to Bonfire!
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GM Zombies, no. Sunset, yes. And not the literal sunset, for it was night now, and sunset had been. No, it was sunset, the thin dark musician with the elegant threads that he had been talking to in the Square Moon. The trumpet player. Sunset was loitering outside the Square Moon, drinking whisky from a hip flask, and sweating despite the night air. From the security camera footage it was hard to tell whether he was anxious or angry or even sad. But perhaps he was all three. "not again..." he mumbled, over and over again. You didn't have to be a master lip reader to spot him repeating himself over and over again. He was perhaps mumbling other things too, and on one accosaion raised his fist to the moon and appeared to be shouting out some drunken curse.
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GM "Burning down the central park?" scoffed Chill Pill. "I just bet you would!" He bent and gazed skyward, then from his eyes a brilliant white beam was brought forth. It swept across the sky, freezing the air...and when it struck Bonfire he felt the most horrible chill in his bones and blood once more. "Look everybody! Its BONFIRE TRYING TO BURN DOWN FREEDOM CITY!" yelled Chill Pill to nobody in particular. Anyone who wasn't knocked out had run away a while ago. Except Zyte, of course. "Burning down freedom city! Wow! This is AWESOME!" he declared, intent on filming every second. To the max. To the ultra max.
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Yep, thats a right old miss! Standard Action: Accuaret Eye Beams! Eye Beams: 1d20+12 27 Damage 10 effect, but with shift, its a Damage 8 (or Damage 12 with vulnerability) fort save again (DC 27!) MOve Action: Chill Pill will leap under partial cover. Admittedly that cover is a tree in the park, but its partial cover nonetheless! ROund errr....4? Bonfire - Unharmed - Fatigued - 0HP Chill Pill - Bruised x3, Under cover
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GM The fireball burst onto Chill Pill. Of the lovely blue spandex costume he was wearing, little remained. He was dressed in charred rags now, his flesh red and black, but still alive. Very much quite alive. He staggered back a little and waved the smoke away somewhat ineffectually. "Hero! Pfah! Hero is risking your life on some medical treatment when you have brain cancer!" he said, rather incorrectly if one stopped to think about it. Which he was surely not doing. "I am going to be a STAR! I won't let some little fireball thrown by some kid who get lucky with fire powers stop me!"
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GM "It is about philosophy, for me" replied Violet. She seemed to be more confident now. Her movements were fluid, and she kept her distance. She was ready to fight, if attacked. Not threatening, but making very sure that she wouldn't be taken by Victoria. "I studied under the Guardians for years. And I came to see their philosophy as wrong. The way they can rewind time. The way they use it. The wheel are corrupt" she said, determined. "I left, determined to forge my own path..." she added, pulling up her t shirt. Around her naval was a tattoo of a shattered wheel. "I am Broken Wheel. I am not a Katarnachist, not a villain. But I an an enemy of the Guardians. An exile, a pariah. A flawed student, they would say. I learned everything I could from them, and reject them as flawed, not I" she said, proudly. "I want to know what you are...."
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GM Chill Pill stood up, simmering and steaming. Whilst still full of anger, it was now determination rather than blind fury. He could not let his ego continue without asserting itself from the flogging it had received. "Smoke again is it, coward? Well, let me show you what I can do...." he grunted, now with a smile on his face. He flexed his muscles, clenched fists, and looked for all the world like he was straining to defecate. And then, with a rather puffy puff, a cloud of cold ice droplets wafted from his body. And the air was as cold as the freezing wastes of the coldest plains of hell on a most particularly cold day when captain cold had decided that he really must pop in to add that extra little bit of coldness.....