Supercape

Tough vs Cowboy: 1d20+10 21 bruised! (unless its lethal!)

He is well below your PL!

Echohead As told by Stephen Lake, 82, Retired Police Officer Yeah, I know Velluti. I knew his mother first. Lucia. She cut my hair when I still had some, ha ha. I guess one of the perks of growing old is you save on haircuts. I remember Umberto. Little snot nosed kid, like the runt of the class. Smart, but not athletic, if you know what I mean. Jaw of glass and arms like twigs. Now, you can call me a jock or something like that, but if you ask me he needed to man up a bit, if you know what I mean. Eat some protein, get some fresh air and exercise. Or at least, if someone socks it to ya, you make sure ya sock ‘em back. I mean, you don’t have to win, right? Ya just got ta make it so the other guy pays for messin’ ya up. Then, they will think twice next time. Three types of guys in the world. The guys who kick sand in peoples faces. The guys who gets sand kicked in their faces. And the guys who watch other guys get sand kicked in their faces. You just gotta make sure you are the first type, or the last. I guess I was a bit of the first, at school. Then I grew up, joined the force. Maybe I still kicked sand it other guys faces, but at least I did it to the right type of guy. If ya going to kick ass, make sure you kick the rights ones, huh? So I tried to toughen the guy up, ya know. Gave him a clip round the ear, a few jabs, tried to show him how to fight back. He was getting his ass kicked at school every day, came back snivellin’ and cryin’ to mummy. Jeesus. I guess he needed a man in the family, ya know? Lord knows I tried, but seemed to be every time I tried to toughen him up, he just ended up getting worse. I guess all that cryin and wailin took its toll. His body didn’t grow right, ya know? Like he wasn’t even a foot and half as a grown man. Liked spending time with flowers and plants, growin’ them on the roof, rather than proper stuff a man should be doin’. I mean, I don’t ever think he’s gone to a baseball game. Or a foot ball. Huh, well that’s the way he was built, I guess. I had a word with the bullies at school a few times when things got really out of hand. I guess it helped a bit, after all I was a cop. But at the end of the day, the kid had to learn to fend for himself, yeah? That’s all of us can do, when it comes right down to it. He was what he was, though. Smart enough to set up shop, selling plants and all that. I went in whenever I had to buy flowers for my wife. Huh, fifty years marriage, still goin’ ‘strong. Never cheated, either. That’s what a real man does, sticks by his wife. Not that Umberto’s going to marry, I guess. No woman’s gonna go for a man with his kind of spine. If he even has a spine. So I saw him, all friendly like, once a month. Maybe more. He always seemed to get nervous when I came in, like I was gonna clip him round the ear again or sumthin’. Huh, maybe I did give him a few little playful jabs, you know, just for old times sake. He just smiled and kinda shrank, you know? Huh, no understandin’ some folks, I guess. Must have been a bout a year ago. I was buyin’ some Roses for Mrs Lake, our anniversary. I go buy his shop and whaddya know? Its all boarded up. I gotta say, I was a bit surprised. I mean, Umberto ain’t got a jaw or a spine, but he’s smart. The business was always doin’ pretty good, and even if he wasn’t rich he was doing ok. More than ok, actually. His mother was always goin’ on a bout him, and Umberto kept her well cared for. So whys the shop boarded up, I asked myself? Well, I didn’t know then, and I sure as hell don’t know now. But I can tell you, something was up. Something odd. It was boarded up for three, maybe four months. Not for sale, I saw, so its not like he was selling up. And if he had gone backrupt somethin’ would have happened. No, not nothin’. Just a load of graffiti accumulatin’ on the boards. And some of it weren’t too nice, either. Some of his childhood bullies still fancied a dig. Nasty little $£”%’s. When did I see him again? Well it was the afternoon. He was unboarding the place. I gotta say, I almost did a double take. Almost didn’t recognise him. I mean, the guys dressed all different, for one. Got some style, now. Cool black suit, cool as you like. Like James Bond or the Men in Black, or somethin’ from Gunbusters. Ok, I said, maybe he got a stylist, spent some of his cash on some Italian designer or somethin’. Maybe theres hope for him gettin’ a gal or sumthin, if he could just get some fast car to go with the suit, just maybe there’s hope. He still had the stoop, but not so bad. And when I came to say hello, he flinched just like before, but this time, it didn’t last. Like his spine went but snapped back like a rubber band. I gotta say, I was happy for the guy. It was a mystery, but good for him. Maybe he saw some Goddamn shrink or sumthin’, got some guts sewn into his head. Then, some of those bullies came wanderin’ past. Now, they been picking on Umberto ever since high school. And they didn’t like their favourite wimp getting’ a spine and a new cool suit. So they start shoving him around. And then the shovin’ pretty quickly got serious. Boots and Knuckles. I tried to stop em. Twenty, even ten years ago, I would have given them an ass kickin, but I ain’t young any more. Then one of them just freezes. Stops like a statue. I could see the fear in his eyes. Like asking “What the hell!”, gurgling “help!” like a little girl. The other guy, he turns around and wonders what the hell happened. Bullies, they work in packs, and when the pack gets thin, they don’t have all that courage and swagger they pretend to have, do they. No, so you could see this guy startin to lose his balls. “Snap out of it!” he said, trying to push the guy back to workin. All he did was push the guy over. Ouch. So then he turns around, and I could see he wants to give Umberto a real good kickin. Out of fear, this time. And I see him look right at Umberto. No, that ain’t right. I mean, Umberto is right there, bang, a foot away from his face, and he can’t see him. He’s looking left and right, and span around. Couldn’t see what was right infront of his face. Turns to me and says “Where did that little snot go?”. Now, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I make the best of it. I go point down the street, the other way. So this guy, he doesn’t know what to do. He picks up his friend who is like a puppet without any strings, and pulls him away. Halfway down the street, his friend starts to use his legs again, and that’s when they both started running away. “What the hell was that?” I ask Umberto. Now, Umberto is grinning like a mad dog. Like he got thirty years of revenge packed into a few moments. And you know, I can’t say I blame him. “Poetry” he says, still smiling. “Thing’s are going to be different now” he said. And I can tell ya, they have sure been different. Tell ya one thing, if you are a bully, ya better remember ya wont be forgotten even if you forget. And one day ya might just regret it.

GM The woman seemed a little confused by the questions. Clearly it was not the thing to do to ask one questions. Not the thing at all. But, despite the disorientation induced by such novel circumstance, she rallied and answered. "That way!" was a clear enough response, accompanied by an arm and finger indicating the way it was. "Four of them, I think. And the other man with the absolutely enormous organ...you know...his...." she pointed at her nose. This was clear too, after some initial bumbling that was ripe for misinterpretation and jocular wit. Of course, being stabbed and shot multiple times might deplete ones inclination to proceed down that low road. Might. "And they had big ones!" she added, to provide further motivation for that way. "Guns! big guns!"

GM "Like you?" asked the blonde woman, face neutral. "You are Victoria, yes? Trained by the Guardians? Wearing circles?" "You must be. I can tell. I'm Violet. Yes, I know I wear white. Ha ha. Heard it before" she sighed. "I have studied under them too. Not as good as you, I bet. But, I know some styles" she said, nodding her head in deference to Victoria. She indicated the Square Moon. "Somethings wrong in there. The Katanarchists, I think. They are dealing some powerful magic drugs. I don't know much, but I know something serious is going down tonight. And I'm not strong enough to take them on" she said, almost ashamed. "Maybe one or two. But I'm pretty sure its not going to be one or two low level ninjas in there..." She craned her neck to watch Alexander go in, closely followed by the tall Asian man. "Looks like more meat for them. And maybe that other guy is a Katanarchist, luring the meat to the grinder. We better go in..." she said, biting her lip anxiously. Although Victoria got the sense that Violet was actually more confident than she appeared. And more capable than she claimed.

Snakebite As told by Stacy Crumb, 15 School can be so boring sometimes. Like, Miss Pettlefish, our maths teacher, what is she like? She is so boring. Maths is so boring. And she took away my smart phone for, like, a fifteen minutes. Can you believe it? Fifteen minutes. I thought I was going to die! How mean is that? All I was doing was texting Jemma about Tom and how cute he is. Dumb teachers. Anyways, its not all boring. I mean, I like English and Drama and History. Especially when we go out on field trips, like the Globe theatre, or the Marlowe. But the best trip was the British Museum. I mean its got some cool stuff. Really old. Some of in really, really old. That’s my favourite. I mean, its all cool you know with big paintings about rich kings and queens, and the dressed and armour and that stuff. But I like the really old stuff, like romans and ancient Egypt. Even cavemen stuff. It kinda makes you think about how we lived before we had snapchat and stuff, yeah? It must have been terrible. Makes you think about how lucky we are to live in the world today! So me and Jemma, cause we are like so best friends – well except when Jemma was going out with David Wells, who is so uncool – but apart from that we are always best friends, we went sneaking out on our own when we went to the British Museum. We wanted to like hang out and stuff. Jemma isn’t that into the old stuff, though, but she came with me because she is my best friend and like we didn’t want to hang around Mrs Biggins. She is so old! I mean, she must be forty. She is like, as old as some of the thing’s in the museum! So we were sneaking off to do our own thing and I dragged Jemma to the ancient history exhibition. She wasn’t paying that much attention, really, she was just taking selfies and updating her profile. She did like the rude pictures. You know, like the giant %$%£” carved onto cave walls. We took a few selfies posing with the pictures which Jemma’s mom saw letter and she got in real bad trouble. We had a right laugh though. And we you know, giggling and sniggering over this ancient stone of a snake with looked just like a…well, it looked just like something really rude, when this lady comes over to us. Cassandra Crow. Doctor Cassandra Crow. The first thing I noticed was the sunburn. I mean, she was a reddish brown that matched her hair, you know red heads, they get toasted in the sun! I remember when Emma Waters went to Ibiza and…well…anyway. The second thing I noticed was her smile. She was really friendly. She actually laughed with us larking around, but she was also really interested in the stone sculpture. She connected with us, I guess, like she knew it was a bit rude. But she wanted us to look closer, and you know what she did? She actually picked the sculpture up! “I found this in Brazil” she explained. Now, we were pretty impressed. I mean, Brazil is cool, like yeah? And finding something like this in Brazil was even cooler. Even Jemma had to agree. But picking it up when that was like totes forbidden was even cooler. She even offered it to us to touch. “But careful. Its thousands and thousands of years old! Perhaps even older!” We must have gasped. Even Jemma was hooked now. It was like history coming alive and giving you a kiss. History that looked like Harry Styles and used tongues when it kissed you. “I didn’t think humans made things like this so long ago!” I said. She just gave a smile and looked us straight in the eyes. Like hypnotic or something. “Why do you think humans made it?” she asked. “But…but….” Look, I am really cool normally, but the way she asked it, the way we held the idol in our hands, I was getting just a little bit very freaked out. It felt like the idol was on fire, or electric or something. Like something was running up and down my spine and nibbling at me whilst it scuttled around. I thought I was going to drop it. Then I would be in real trouble. I mean, I was in trouble already. But if I broke this I was sure to get grounded for at least two days. And Mum might take my mobile phone away for an hour. So I made sure I gripped it so hard I thought my fingers would crack the stone. I got my words out. I got myself together. But I swear my tongue felt like it wasn’t my own. “Who else could have made it?” I asked. She took the idol from my hands, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. “Nobody will tell you this, but before men, when were just apes, others walked the earth. The snake people!” she said, dramatically. “No way!” we said, at the same time. It was like a horror movie, you know? Like scared and excited but no matter how scary you can’t help but looking. Even if it is from between your fingers. “This is from their time. Before ours. A snake god, I think. Its too ancient to tell. But I have been all around the world looking for these things, And more. You know the snake Gods of our time? Nuwa, In China, or Ahi in India, who created the world and life? Memories of the ancient past that linger. The evil Set of Egypt? The monsters of Greece like Medusa or Thyphon? The Midgard Serpent Jormugandr, who will bring about Ragnarok of the Vikings? These are all ancient fears played over and over again in the minds of men who came after!” We didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but it sure was spooky. Now, I might have lost it. I was clutching Jemma’s hand so hard I might have broke it, except she was clutching mine even harder. But then she smiled. “Don’t worry” she said. “They are all gone now”. We breathed a sigh of relief. “Nearly all gone” We inhaled again. “Don’t worry though. I’ll make sure they don’t come back. Why do you think I go around collecting and studying all of this? It’s too make sure they don’t come back. Ever. And if they do, I’ll kick their scaly asses!” she laughed. A nice laugh. Like her smile. She put the idol back where it belonged and we both breathed out. I swear I was going to have a panic attack if I kept breathing like that. “So keep your mind open, ladies” she said. “Don’t take anything as true, or false, until you have thought about it for yourself!” she added with a wink and walked off. We got in trouble, of course, for wandering off. But we didn’t mind. We explained who we had met, and what had happened, and I think Mrs Biggins was actually pretty jealous, although we got a good telling off. Mum didn’t mind, not after I explained it all properly. I made sure I didn’t show her the selfies, though. And I went and did a search on the internet afterwards. Cassandra Crow is well cool. And badass. She has been all round the world, and got into fights and adventures and everything. And she has a really cool whip! So yeah, I was going to study Beauty therapy at Wesleyfen college. But you know, after that, I think I might study history. History is pretty cool.

You really have no way of knowing at this stage! But please make a sense motive roll for the future with more information coming! For what its worth you can tell she is not preparing for a fight.

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..."