Supercape

GM The tall man in the turtle neck remained worried but was grateful for Alexanders assistance. "Seen these two?" he asked, showing photographs of two young women, either very late teens or very early twenties. They looked, it must be said, rather like a pair of scallywags. "Please?" asked the man, starting to crack up. "I'm their social worker. They are quite vulnerable. I think they got in with the wrong crowd. Went into the club..." he explained, nodding at the Square Moon. "They were getting involved in drugs. Drugs and witchcraft. Not the good wiccan stuff, the black screwed up stuff" he explained, frowning in deep concern. "God, I tried to help them..." he moaned to the universe. Whilst, Victoria got a tap on the shoulder. "Do you like circles?" The woman had striking platinum blonde hair, and striking blue eyes, like she had stepped out of a Glacier. She was dressed in a white coat and white t shirt, with white jeans, and on her feet, white shoes. She was smiling carefully, and had white teeth when she did so. Whatever she was, she was well balanced and quiet. Graceful. Agile. Like a martial artist.

GM And so the Universe, in its universal wisdom and universal knowledge answered in a most universal way... The universe is infinite! There are infinite Blockheads! There are infinite Impacts! The infinite lives within the infinite! And the infinite is where the infinite is! Finite is it is not! And neither is it finite! For their nature is infinite! And infinite is their nature! With such elegant and redundant advice the universe finished its wise words. Although, if one strained into the madness, into the chaotic pipes that fluted around the bubbling chaos and the cavorting idiot gods that danced to the music, one might consider it ended with a "wibble wibble, hahahaha!" mocking laugh.

GM "Ughh...Knuckles...I don't like the look of her" mumbled Boots. "...Yeah. I gotta bad feeling, Boots...." mumbled Knuckles. The two thugs turned heel and walked off just slow enough to allow them to claim (erroneously) that they were walking, but fast enough within that parameter to make maximum speed from the distressing situation they had put themselves in. "Oh thank you thank you!" gasped the woman, clutching her bag and playing with her pearls anxiously. "Oh goodness! You are bleeding! Please don't hurt me! Or bleed over me! This dress is expensive and I have had quite enough shock for one night! Why, some thugs just stole my car!" She remembered a pertinent point. "And you should have seen the nose on one of them! Why, it was as big as my fist!"

Well, they roll worse... Initimadate: 1d20+4 6

GM Zyte paused and stroked his goatee. "Look, I'm not a psychologist. Much. Just degree level" he explained, immodest as always. "And my studies were more on social psychology and manipula....um. Anyway, not clinical or anything. But there is something off about Chill Pill. Agitated. Anxious. Something. Not your normal hero narcisi...any way. Something off. I wanted a good show and he fitted the bill. But also I thought I could point him the right way, you know?" "I am a little worried. We are showing him up. We need to get him all heroic, right? Because if he doesn't get to be Chill Pill, he will soon need a Chill Pill" "Lets get back outside, see if we can't put together some footage of you both. But, look, I think we need to get him heroic and visibly heroic. I don't know how he got his powers, but I think it was drugs...."

OOC for this

GM Saturday, March 24th Later Afternoon... The sun hung low in the sky, and the shadows were long, but it was a surprisingly warm day, and people were in fair spirits. Jackson street was a smaller road in the Theatre district, full of more avante garde art and artists. As was the case when art was less than a blinding success, money was thin in wallets and pockets. And this close to the Fens, the paucity of wealth started to blend with the abundance of crime that goes with it. Perhaps the highlight of Jackson Street was The Square Moon, a Sort of Jazz club. It was "sort of" because it played all sorts of esoteric and crazy music of limited popularity that proclaimed itself to be both artistic and cool. And usually had some maddening time signature. In addition, the Square Moon attracted all sorts of new age and wiccan types and had a barely believed reputation for being seeped in sorcery. Outside the Square Moon, a tall man of Asian heritage in a cool turtleneck was pacing up and down and smoking heavily, quite worried. He was stopping passers by and those coming in and out of the Square Moon showing them pictures of two kids, but with limited success. Maybe the young man known as Facsimile might help as he passed by? And meanwhile... Victoria Gold has received a hand written, hand delevired note of brief nature. Trouble at the Square Moon with Katarnachists. I need your help. Meet me outside at 5pm. Wear a circle. Followed by the sigil of the Guardians of the Wheel. Which, as far as Victorian Gold knew, only the Guardians of the Wheel knew.....

Rep Table 20 Q Hell Q

Reputation Table 20Q HellQ

GM Mr Brick scrabbled his seat a few inches away, his resolve eroding. But even in a state of panic, his spinal cord still insisted he strike a deal. "The woman? ah...oh....yes, the woman. Blue suit, red hair, arrogant little...yes...the woman" he spluttered. "Look, she brought that giant thing back here. Good for me, of course. He keeps expanding our site, completely free of charge!" he said, thinking happy thoughts. "Its only me and Hettie and my lovely secretary now!" he explained, again finding time to give Lizzy a lustful look. "But honestly, I don't know where she is! Maybe she is in the central building here, I don't know!" he explained. "But we can still do business, right? I mean, I am helping you, and I can give you a great discount on a super headquarters! 100% genuine fake marble is my speciality!"

Mr Murk Mr Murk gave a warm deep chuckle. "No, I don't think it was either. But it was a most wonderful snow, I can still feel it in my fingers and on my face". "Thank you for coming Voin. I hope things are suitably civil between you and my friend here" he said, indicating Comrade Frost. He sat back drinking a little gin. "You must excuse me for being vague and obscure. It is only a reflection of my foresight, not a reflection of my intent" he said, placating in tone. "I do my best to keep abreast of matters in the here and now, thanks to my contacts. And between my visions of the future and my ears in the present, I have come across something of a mystery..." He put his drink down and interlaced his fingers, thinking carefully. "There was a woman, many many years ago, a seer of sorts. She fell into an slumber in a hill in Wales, and became known in myth as the sleeping maiden. I have no idea if she is a maiden or not, but that is beside the point. What is more pertinent is that she has disappeared..." he explained. "I am not sure if a man, or woman, in suspended animation could be said to be immortal, although it is an immortality of sorts, I suppose" he ventured. "At the same time, I am...concerned" he said, more gravely. "You are aware of Doctor Sin, yes? A mastermind of nefarious schemes and ill reputation. He does, however, a have a history of keeping his word. The Doctor signed the Codex a few months ago..." He carried on, lest vitriol creep in. "I know you may find that distasteful. Let me assure you I would deeply like to have Doctor Sin locked away paying for his crimes. And there is nothing in the Codus that prevents us acting in that regard. We are still enemies, he and me, and I would imagine you have similar if not identical feelings on the matter. Yet, still, he has agreed to prevent the worst atrocities that I have outlined to you both in the Codus" he said. "I have heard whispers that Doctor Sin is trying to mass produce his strange eastern elixirs, to bring eternal life in exchange for eternal slavery. This, my friends, does not sill well with me..."

Diamondlight As told by Jean Calame, 55 It was only last month, the tail end of winter. It was still cold, that crisp cold air even when the sun shines. Clean blue sky, with the mountains white with snow. It’s my favourite time of year, I think. You can feel the winter drawing to a close. It’s a small, old town. Very nice up in the mountains. We have plenty of skiers here, plus lakes and forests to walk through. We do very well from tourism. Very well indeed. We have some five-star hotels that cater to the very wealthy. I am the chief of police. Not long till I retire, but I would like to have a few more years, until my knees give way altogether. I have a good relationship with everybody round here. To be honest, we don’t get much crime. The main problem is people trying to dupe or steal from the tourists, but that’s not common. I keep my eye on anybody coming in to town who isn’t a tourist – or looks like they aren’t one. I met Monsieur Zoss here last month. He was staying at one of the big fancy hotels, said he needed a break. He had had an unusual accident, he said. Needed a bit of space from his father. Well, the Zoss family are known locally, of course. Used to come regularly, but I hadn’t seen them in well over a decade. Something had happened to bring Monsieur Zoss back. I didn’t pry, of course. Families – well, even the best families are difficult sometimes. I mean, take my father, he could be a complete…well, I digress. Let me tell you about another gentleman. Helmut Gruber. Now, I have no quarrel with the Germans, for the most part. But Helmut does not represent the best of his country. He is an odious snake. Tall, think, black eyes. He looks like a snake, and he acts like one. Never tips, from what I hear. Gruber came to gamble. He is a good poker player, and he does not throw away his money like some of the fools that come here for a game of high stakes poker. He usually walks away with more chips than he started. But he boasts about it. The man has no grace. At least, when he wins. When he loses, he is worse. Rants, raves, and threatens. I have been called more than once about his behaviour. And on at least one occasion someone who beat him ended up in hospital the next day. Couldn’t pin anything on him, but let me say I have my suspicions. Gruber has a cold heart that is only heated from fury. You suggest he is anything but magnificent, and you can practically see the red mist fume to his eyes. I swear they go dark. I don’t think Zoss was here to gamble or drink. No late night poker and martini this time. He had something on his mind, something eating him slowly. I think he wanted space to think, sort out his thoughts. But Gruber wouldn’t have anything of it. He was playing high stakes and winning, getting drunk on luck, getting that feeling that the universe was designed for his pleasure, that the fates were in love with him. So he starts boasting, starts taunting, starts goading Zoss. No man likes to be called a coward and Zoss is no exception, but he isn’t a man to be goaded or manipulated. You can’t be that kind of man if you want to gamble. But he was distracted, unsettled this time. Eventually, with some kind of poisonous mood, he agreed to play. The night started as one would think. The cards got dealt, and hands got played, and money swung to this player or another. Nobody really won, and nobody really lost. People kept the stakes low, whilst they assessed the play of the other players. Everybody scrutinising each other for the tell, and trying their damn hardest to keep their own face stone. Let me tell you, I haven’t ever seen anyone do it better than Monsieur Zoss. But even the best players get caught by luck. Zoss made some wins, made some losses, but the cards did not fall kindly to his hands, whilst Gruber got the best of them. After and hour or two, Gruber was winnings. The other players dropped out a little, or in some cases a lot, bruised and stung. There was only Gruber and Zoss left, and Gruber was ahead. But sometimes that’s when somebody is at their most vulnerable. They think they have fortune with them, when fortune is blind. They get keen for the kill, to wrap it up. And Gruber was intent on demolishing Zoss at the table. He kept throwing out comments, mocking Zoss, asking why he had such a good reputation when he was losing. Zoss just sat their calmly, studying Gruber and complimenting on his fine play when in fact it was fine luck. Of course, such calmness only added fuel to Gruber, who became obsessed with breaking Zoss. And so it happened. Gruber got dealt a good hand, and Zoss got dealt a great one. Gruber looked confident, Zoss looked the same as always. But Gruber saw what he wanted to see; an opportunity to finish it, once and for all. He was tired, inpatient, greedy, and a little drunk. He raised the stakes again and again, with Zoss carefully, after a delay each time, matching and raising back. Until they went all in. On the table was an unusual set. Two fives, A seven, a king, and an Ace. A dangerous set. Gruber had a King and two aces, and feeling full of victory laid down his hand. Full house, two kings, three aces. A full house. Zoss didn’t smile. He didn’t sigh, or cry, or grunt. He just moved his hand, calmly, and revealed his two fives. Four of a kind. Zoss wins. Gruber darkened like we was going to explode, and everyone held their breath for fear he might. But he held it together, and just mumbled something under his breath. I didn’t catch it, but it wasn’t nice. I’m pretty sure it was a threat. And he stormed out, whilst Zoss bought everyone around of drinks and tipped well. It must have been three in the morning when we left the casino. I had tried to keep a clear head but had had perhaps one more drink than I should have. Zoss must have had a few more than that, and whilst he could walk in a straight line, he wasn’t as clear as he should have been. Gruber had some bodyguards, and must have paid them a lot of money. Because they walked up to Zoss from behind, ready to do some serious damage to him. I don’t know how Zoss saw them. Must have eyes on the back of his head, but he dodged and swung back. He fought pretty good too, but he was drunk and their were two of them. And those guys were heavy and trained. Zoss managed to a clean hook and took one to the ground, standing over him, one of his eyes already black from a nasty straight. That’s when the other guy took it a step too far. They hadn’t expected someone who could fight back, much less hold their ground. They didn’t want something dirty and prolonged, they wanted something quick and effective. The goon pulled out a gun. If I had blinked, I would have missed it. There was a flash of light. Zoss was holding, or seemed to hold, a beam of light, a few feet long, silver and shining. Adrenaline countered the alcohol, it seemed, because he swung it like a sabre of light, cutting into the gun with a brilliant flash of light. And quick as he that sabre of light had appeared, it was gone. The gun fell to the ground, melted. The poor sucker holding it stumbled away, rubbing his eyes, quite dazzled by the brilliance. His friend on the floor scrabbled away, glad he was only spitting blood. Desperation and fear can lend one quite the speed of foot, and the two of them made use of this advantage, pulling each other into the night air. Zoss straightened up and adjusted his jacket, touching his eye and cracked ribs. “What was that?” I asked, my breath catching up with the events. He just turned and gave a smile through a busted lip. “Don’t worry, Jean” he said calmly. “It’s Diamondlight”. And with this simple explanation, he walked off.

GM With all the twists and turn and the background noises of chaos that whispered through Bedlam, Arrowhawk could not find the four hunters or indeed the Nose. But she did find one oddity, a rather heavy boned woman, dressed in a fine dress, with fine pearls laced into a fine necklace, screaming that her car had been stolen. She was rather distraught, what with being caught out on the street in one of Bedlam's rather more gritty streets. Rather oddly, she still had her handbag. And it should be noted that her screaming and her fine handbag were attracting the flies. Namely, a couple of street thugs smoking and drinking and in need of a fine handbag. Maybe some fine pearls too, although of course they realised that snatching such a fine pearl necklace from the woman might cause the necklace to break and the pearls to cascade to the street in slow motion. And meanwhile, in the distance, Arrowhawk could hear the squeal of tires...

GM Vaquez, still somewhat dull of spirit, dutifully opened up the lock room as Zyte got his mercurial mind into gear. "What? Give it to AEGIS? Well, yes, of course. That would probably be safe. But what art is safe? we have here a magnificent ancient mask of untold evil and horror! And what a great and beautiful thing it is! How could we possibly let this thing be locked away?" he pleaded. "Surely we have a duty to find out what it is first? Like some expert or something?" he asked, stroking his goatee in thought. "That would give our piece authenticity! Otherwise it might look like we were using a cheap plastic knock off and some actors" he explained. "Some proper expert. I could look into experts locally on this kind of thing, so, you know, we understand what we are dealing with?" "And try to get Chill Pill doing something. He is getting a little irate, you know. I am supposed to be doing a piece on him...even if you are the hot stuff, to be honest...."

GM There was another impressive clang which whipped the man's head to one side. His spinal cord still active, he tried to get up or punch or stab or do something, but without a functioning conscious brain to direct him, such combat reflexes merely translated to him jerking with jittery agitation in the trash at Arrowhawks feet. His knife, bloody and wet, fell from his limp fingers as he passed out cold... In the distance, little could be heard, perhaps, if one paused to strain ones hearing and cut out the sound of scuttling rats, cars driving through the winter air, and a few distant police sirens, the sound of running feet could be heard....

Tough Save vs Arrowhawk: 1d20+3 11 That, I believe, is enough to knock him out as he is staggered already. The other guys are 5 rounds away! For reference, Arrowhawk - 1 HP, Injured x6, Bruised x6

GM Her synthetic skin pooped and ripped at the shoulders, and her cybernetic arms revealed themselves for all to see. They were quite visible, what with extending out two dozen feet. They were shiny and chrome. They were chrome and shiny. "That will take a long time" she replied, as the pilot lights on each palm ignited. "But I can call it! JET...SET....GO!!!!!" she yelled, and on cue she stretched out her arms and threw a blossoming jet of fire right at the man's feet. The fire exploded on contact with the ground, releasing a fiery shock wave and sharp boom.

GM The furious charge sent Metal Head flying across the alley, colliding with a rather crumbly building that cracked with the impact a few dozen feet away. Metal Head sunk to his rear amidst trash, stunned by the force of the blow. "She's dead, you know, no matter what you do now" he mumbled softly. "Every second I keep you here, is a second she nears her doom" He tried to get up, and slumped down again. "Something you should know. I have recorded every single night of sport. This is my leverage, and it is mighty. It is only the rich and powerful I accept into the club, not because they are rich, but because they are powerful. And I have them in my fist..."

move Action: Elongate Arms (in case she needs them!) Standard Action, Jet Fireball which due to [insert vague comic book reason here] is non-lethal. As discussed, avoiding Civvies with that, so a Damage 8 Area effect (Reflex 18, Tough 23 / 19)

That will indeed hit: Tough Save: 1d20+6 16 Which is actually 15 as already bruised and injured. So that makes him staggered, bruised x2, dazed... Plus, knockback: the distance is technically 7, but he is just going to collide with a building lets say thirty feet away, and take another DC 22 Tough Save Tough Save vs Knockback: 1d20+4 17 picking up another Bruise Round 6 18 - Metal Head, Bruised x3, Injured, Staggered, Dazed this round. 17 - Arrowhawk, Bruised x6, Injured x6, 1 Hp Others - 4 Rounds of movement away.

GM "Then I will make sure you do not, one way or another" replied the man. He sensed victory now. "This has been an exceptional night. I do not resent the little scar you gave me, for the memories of such bloody business are well worth it" he said, mulling over the events. He took a step back and raised his knife high, like a hawk. "I savour every moment" he explained, and took a slow thrust forward, the knife twisting through the air one way or another, past any slap or block Arrowhawk could throw, to cut once again...

So apologies let the rounds slip! I am however going to push Arrowhawk from 0HP to 1 HP simply because carrying on this roughed up is worthy heroics. Round 5 18 - Metal Head, Bruised, Injured 17 - Arrowhawk, Bruised x5, Injured x5, 1 Hp Others - 2 Rounds of movement away. So Metal Head, sensing victory, will shift an accurate strike: Accurate Stab: 1d20+13 22 which he didnt need, but it does mean the resultant toughness save is a mere DC 19. For his move action he will back off again, 20' away.

GM "Goddamn it..." gasped the man, feeling Arrowhawks strength as he was pushed backed - slammed back - to the masonry of one of the side buildings. The impact knocked over a trash can and some rats when scurrying. A little masonry dust fell on them both. A witty retort he might have had, but with a hand round your throat it is difficult to get words from lungs to lips. He gurgled slightly, however. And then, quickly recovering from the shocking strength, he recovered. He gave a kick to the shin, and then punched the elbow of Arrowhawk, meeting her superior strength with grim determination. A flurry of blocks and strikes, all dirty, ensued as the man wriggled out of her hands, and engaged in a rapid fire exchange of elbows and knees and fists with Arrowhawk. And a knife. Amidst the flurry of fists, his back against the wall, he twisted Arrowhawks arm one way, and slashed at her, his knife cutting...

Ok, so he will use his standard action to stabby stabby! Stabby Stabby: 1d20+11 21 Goddamn, another hit. At least not a critical. DC 21 Tough Save.

Grapple opposed: 1d20+15 32 predictably, another high roll. But he remains pinned. They are held immobile, losing their dodge bonus to Defense, and suffering an additional -4 Defense penalty. Move action: Escape! Grapple Escape: 1d20+15 21 not so good but could we resolve that before he takes standard action?