Supercape

Rev "Yeah I understand all of that" said Rev to Paradigm, unplugging the fuel lines from her neck and feeling most refreshed. "But its...like a gnawing fear, now. In the back of my mind. Something out their that can eat up the universe...at any time. And there isn't anything we can do about it. That's pretty tough to know. Like you have swallowed a bomb or something. Honestly? I wish I didn't know...." She pulled at her hair a bit, disconcerted. Disconcerted to the max. "I guess I just got to get on with my life. Try not to think about it" she said, firmly, to herself. "But right now, I better catch up with Zhu. She is very naughty, and without my sensible and well behaved head around, she is sure to get up to major mischief!" she lied, happily.

GM "Bonfire is it?" nodded Armitage, pondering the matter. "The Mask? Yes...yes...." he continued, closing his book and standing up. He began pacing, juggling around thoughts and speculations inside his head - before coming to firm conclusion. "I imagine this is a skull mask? Like a giant serpent? Fits neatly over the face and grants furious strength. Or just fury?" he said, before taking a pen and paper and sketching a pretty good likeness of the skull mask. "I found it in Egypt. An Eldritch thing, of ancient history. Pre-history, more precisely. May I ask where it is now? And what you observed of it?"

Lord Steam "The Terminus!" muttered Lord Steam. "This is bad! Well, not all bad. At least you are breathing. And sort of back to your spiffy self" he added. He pondered the words he had heard. They didn't really make any sense - not that they were nonsensical, but rather he was looking at a jigsaw with only a few pieces here and there. It was impossible to make sense of it. But the Terminus - that was bad. "This? Oh its some kind of fancy wand. Does some fancy stuff, like telekenesis. Possibly a key, as well. Quite how I got it is something of a mystery, I am afraid. Some fellow gave it to me, then he vanished in a puff of light. Or something like that" he explained. Admittedly, not very well, but then it was not something that made particular sense right now. "Right now there is no pattern to these events, I am afraid. Its still just falling into place....But more importantly, how are you feeling? Can't solve a mystery with a head full of dust...."

Rev Rev didn't think they would stay back. Everyone loved a good free show. Even if they didn't love it, they would be drawn to it - some kind of hypnotic magnetic force would make them. Like watching a car crash on the other side of the street. Hopefully they wouldn't get too close. "Lets go get this done, Bear-head" she sighed, giving her neck a crack from side to side. "No busting heads until they start to bust ours, remember!" She walked up to the Shed and put her ear to the wall, to see if she could hear anything inside...

Basically its the core rules! Construct the power, like Damage 2 (Extras: Permanent Aura [+3), Flaws: Limites to TIny things [-2]) Total Cost 4 PP Then two parts: Design Check First, the inventor must design the invention. This is a Knowledge (technology) skill check. The DC is 10 + the invention’s power point cost. It requires an hour’s work per power point of the invention’s cost. The character can take 10 or 20 on the check. In the latter case, the design process takes 20 times longer (20 hours per power point). You can halve the design time by taking a –5 on the Knowledge check. Design Check = DC 10 + invention’s point cost Once the design is in-hand, the character can construct the invention. This requires four hours work per power point of the invention’s cost, so an invention costing 10 points takes 40 hours (about a week’s work normally, or working two days straight without rest) to construct. When the construction time is complete, make a Craft skill check, using the Craft specialty appropriate to the invention (generally chemical, electronic, or mechanical). The DC is 10 + the invention’s power point cost. You can’t take 20 on this check, but you can take 10. You can halve the construction time by taking a –5 on the Craft check. Construction Check = DC 10 + invention’s point cost Success means the invention is complete and functional. Failure means the invention doesn’t work. Failure by 10 or more may result in a mishap, at the GM’s discretion. You do have plenty of time to make your invention is this thread of course (and inventions do take a long time!) but skill checks still needed! The invention is good for "one encounter" (or spend an HP to extend it for another).

Do you want a scene cut back to Mr. Brick - well, I presume you do eventually. When / Time scale? post any inventions or data gathering stuff here!

GM "City Park? Well, why not. I do love flowers!" said Imprint. "Flowers?" mumbled Block Head, still spinning. "FLOWERS!" shouted Imprinted, vexed but determined. She took Block Head by the hand - not unkindly, but still firmly - and gazed at him with much concentration. "Flowers! I like flowers!" said Block Head after a moments contemplation. And with that, the two of them stepped through the portal quite content. Or, in Imprint's case, full of glee about her victory.

OK cool - lets go with Imprint and Block Head getting away - for now. And back to Mr Brick to turn the flavour slightly more investigative social scientific. Ish!

GM As the alligator slithered away, the tunnel was once empty bar the gentle sloshing of water and the breathing of Arcturus and Lobisomem. There was coolness, too, beyond what one might expect. Like the heat was being eaten from the air. Moving closer, Lobisomem and Arcturus could at least feel fairly confident they had the drop on the doctor. For there he was. He had constructed a makeshift laboratory. It was not exactly hygienic - far from it, but it was functional. Power cables living parasitically of the city network, lights set up over the small chamber. Computers, radios, cages, and glass ware of all types and sizes. A board on which a thousand scribbles fought for attention. There we also preserved dishes of failed experiments. It simply would not do to stare at the horrors pickled inside for long. In the centre, carefully placed, was a fridge with hazard sign inside. Darwin-X was stored inside. The Doctor himself was a large man - over six feet tall and stacked full of muscle. He was in his forties, one would guess, with straggled hair and straggle beard both jet black over a tanned face. One might guess he was middle eastern or Mediterranean from his heritage. His eyes however were a deep blue, and almost bulging, set below a furrowed brow as he studied a set of computer read outs. He was half eating a bowl of noodles and lost in concentration.

Rev Rev, meanwhile, was enjoying a refuel with Paradigm. This is good stuff! Hardly needs any refining! which was pleasant, as refining fuel made her emit methane. It was not social, nor was it pleasant. With a tube stuck in either side of the neck she waited a minute for her reserves to fill. "Thanks Paradigm. I mean, for everything. The fuel, saving our asses, and yeah, the footwear..." she sighed. Sure, it was footwear. But man it was square.... She took the time to respray on Zhu's gelskin over her arms and legs. Bar a few singed clothes she looked kind of human again. "Whats your deal, anyway?" she asked Paradigm. "Not that I am complaining!" she added hastily. "But doesn't this whole collapse thing effect, like, everyone? I mean, sounds like the whole universe should be concerned..."

Flux I am delaying. I know I am delaying.... I can't face Earth. Not just yet. Quill was not facing up to the terror of having two years of your life - if it was two years from his perspective - lost. Gone. Oblivion. He didn't know what to call it, other than deeply unsettling. For now, a spot of what he did best would be a reasonable tonic. He was at least aware of his failing. And besides, this was interesting. And he might be of help. "I think that would be prudent. I do not wish to be alarmist, but one cannot be too careful when it comes to time space anomalies" he said, explaining his reasoning. "I would hate for something to happen here, however unlikely, and I did not spend at least a moment looking. Up close, if possible..."

GM The truck turned into the highway, accompanied by the sound of furious horns and fearful screams. Cars roared past and the pick up truck skidded, burning rubber. "FASTER FOR GODS SAKE GO FASTER!!!!" screamed the man at the back, now scared out of his mind. The driver seemed to pick up on some of that horror, and put his foot on the gas. The highway was straight - or straight enough - that it could make full speed. It could make full speed on a straight road. But there were other cars on it. And not a hundred yards into the acceleration, the pick up truck hard to swerve left. Then right. Then left again, losing its control with every violent heave. Then, it turned, then it tumbled, going to a full roll. Four...five...six...times. And hit the back of a lorry carrying a shipment of Cherribomb! Lollipops. It was a bittersweet moment, then. As the truck up and the pick up stop and the whole highway screamed to a close. The pick up was a mess, crumpled and battered and flipped, with steam coming out of the radiator, petrol on the tarmac, and coated with a sprinkling of cheap sugary treats that had spilled out of the back of a truck. In all fairness, whilst Cherribomb Lollipops were cheap and unhealthy, they were rather tasty...

Cool, post away in PC! We are now on the highway - so the truck can outrun but of course taking a horrible risk doing so! Opposed rolls again please, except this time if the car wins, it makes headway. (by 5 or more, huge headway, by 10 or more, it escapes) Raising DC for car - not Arrowhawk to avoid injury! Drive: 1d20+5 6 Never mind! Collision / Tumble terror! Toughness 25 Rolls for the crash. Crash: 2#1d20+2 16 8 one is dying, one is disabled!

Chase scene! Jazzy Spazzy rules: DC 5 to not crash and burn / trip. DC 15 to not pick up a bruise Roll DEX / Acrobatics for Arrowhawk (who is at +2 for being human rather than vehicle). Drive for vehicle: Race!: 1d20+5 18 for car, which makes it! Use the opposed roll: If vehicle wins, it gets onto the highway (which does not mean it has escaped, just it has reached the highway with you behind it) If Arrowhawk wins, she catches up. Varying degrees of success: Draw or more: You keep pace and within 5 feet of the vehicle 5 or more you get an arm / hand on the vehicle and can skid along with it. 10 or more you elegantly jump onto the vehicle 15 or more you elegantly back flip onto the vehicle whilst juggling and singing a sea shanty of your choice in Icelandic (or whatever cool effect you want).

GM The pick up truck had more raw speed than Arrowhawk, but it was far less agile. It was just about making headway, but had to turn, and lost speed. "Faster, faster!" yelled the man on the back, losing what shredded remains of his nerves he had left. He fired off a crossbow bolt which was wildly off aim, clanging helplessly and impotently against masonry. He was hardly an expert marksman, and even an expert marksman would struggle to even be vaguely on target under these circumstances. The Pick Up Truck had turned into a side street full of debris and was trying to pick up speed. Ahead, the main highway - where at least it could potentially out pace Arrowhawk, even if at perilous risk...

Before Proceeding, can I have your thoughts on where we are and where you would like to go? On the face of it, this seems to be a situation where the "villain" has "won" (major parenthesis on both reductionistic clumsy statements). Your perspectives would be great. I think the odd bitter moment without abject blowing up of cities is good - its like a thorn in the skin of heroes which they need rather than endlessly recycling "I win", but this is something I would like your perspectives on. In particular, where to take this thread and should there be a follow up.

GM The pulse was there, although weak. Regular, too. On examination, he was breathing. That was always a good sign, although there was a slight gurgle to his breath. There was blood, from a broken leg with a splendid piece of bone sticking out. And one arm looked like it was bent in a very unusual way. But aside from broken bones and unconsciousness, there did not look like there was anything critical. He would need hospital treatment, and need it soon, but there was no immediate call for CPR. The pick up truck, meanwhile, was speeding away - and fast. It was cutting its losses - for now...

Starshot Shell-shocked...mind gone....bah! Starshot threw up his hands in exasperation at the withdrawn Alien. A spiteful ironical wish hit him; that they would all die and it would be Phalen's fault. He allowed himself the spiteful thought, but tore it up in his head before it lingered. "A distraction, yes. This was my thinking. And fire is as good a distraction as anything" he agreed with Soreen. "It may work, it may not, but there is nothing to be lost by the attempt" he said, thinking it through. "And we need every chance we can get" "We could possibly even try to trap the area, pits, snares. Enough to slow them down" he suggested. "We have time on our side, at least. Let us not squander that one advantage. Every preparation we can make, we should make..." He sat back, turning the problem over and over in his head. But as far as he could see, they had a plan. And it was time to execute it - slowly, carefully, and with every preparation and cunning they could muster....

GM "My name is Cornelius Armitage. Professor Cornelius Armitage" he said, a smile on his lips but not, it should be said, in his eyes. "I am a historian. An archeologist. A mythologist, theologist, and anthropologist. I have spent my life investigating ancient pre history items and scripts from around the world. I recently procured a small treasure trove of Egyptian antiquities and am selling them off to an interested part for a not small fortune" he explained. "And it would be very important to know who, and what you are, sir. I have done you the politeness of my name and occupation. And even my business. I am a man of somewhat advanced years yet in rude health, and have possessed what could be called an Eldritch Eye for most of my adult life. There, sir, you have a fair and honest, if succinct appraisal of myself. I would therefore ask you kindly to procure me with your nature and business in kind, or are you ignorant in these matters? I might be able to help?"

Flux "It better be really significant majority" interjected Quill, frowning at the risk. "And aside from that, if one does not understand their true nature, then one cannot understand their true risk" he explained, concerned at words like majority and general pattern. Bending space time like this...you need better confidence... He frowned, looking with more than his eyes at the wormhole. "I would like to see one up close" he conceded. "If it is reasonably safe to do so..." he added with a generous smile.

Flintlock Hasan Sharmake It was the middle of summer, hot, even at sea. I’m a pirate. That’s what they call me. They are not wrong. I grew up in the fields, breaking my back like my father and my father before me. I had not a dollar to me my name. Sometimes, I didn’t even have shoes. Not me, I said. I will not live like this. I will life as it should be lived, or I would die trying. I joined a ship. Not a normal ship. We didn’t explore, or transport goods. We didn’t fish. We didn’t fish for fish, we fished for other ships. Its simple. We get information on cargo vessels. Easy enough. We pay bribes, and we get information. Plenty of people in the docks want easy money – they get paid nothing, and people always want more than nothing if that’s all they have. And we make sure that if they feel like talking to the police, they regret it. You have to have a reputation in this profession. Its nothing personal. Its just business. It’s the only way it works. If people do not fear you, they will talk. Once we have the info rmation, it is a simple matter. We catch up with the cargo vessel, we board it, shout, scream, fire are weapons. AK-47, nothing better. If somebody tries to act the hero, we hit them. If they get up again, we shoot them. Nobody gets up after that. Simple. Even with the bribes, and all the people we know, we get trouble from the army, the united nation. Even UNISON sometimes, when we happened to find some very special cargo. We had to dump that cargo and run. Maybe it would have made us millionaires, maybe billionaires. But I think I am happier with that cargo back at the bottom of the sea. I never did like squid, anyway. And I never will, now. It’s a life of danger. We all know it, even if we try to forget it. Sooner or later we are going to get burned. It gives us a fever, a sweating. We all just trying to get enough money to cash out, and we in a frenzy to get there. Its like a trance, like a dream. Like we are dead somehow. Dead men on a ship. Then I saw some real dead men on a ship. You don’t believe me? You don’t have to believe me. I believe me, and that’s enough. It was a hot summer, like I said. We had been having slim pickings, and we had worked up a hunger for a score. People getting restless, pacing, looking at the horizon with bloodshot eyes, not sleeping, sometimes not eating. A hunger so bad it was eating us up from insides. We had been told about this prize ship, full of juice, and not a patrol ship around. Not one we knew about anyway. So we were chasing after it, on good seas, full of keen. Then we saw it. The Black Flag, they call it, a pirate ship. Sails, cannons, just like in the movies. We had heard rumours, but we had all laughed them off as sea stories to frighten the children. Now we saw it. At first, we tried to say it was something else. A yacht, we said. Then it got closer. No, must be filming a movie. Maybe Privateers of the Bahamas 5, we said. Maybe Gunbusters 7. Then there comes a time when you have to start believing you eyes, no matter how much you don’t want to be believing. It was the Black Flag, a pirate ship. And it was faster than us. It cut through the waves like it was being pulled along by some sea God. Never seen a ship move so fast, just glide through the waves without a thought. We tried to outrun it, we did. But some things can’t be outrun. No tricks we could use. The Black Flag was faster than us, no matter what we did. And we couldn’t pretend it wasn’t so. When you can’t run, you have to fight. We didn’t know what was coming after us, but took up our guns anyway. Better to fight with a gun than without one. AK 47s, Shotguns, Uzi’s. We had the weapons. Part of the trade. I couldn’t say we were confident. That would be a lie, and I don’t think anyone would feel confident when a pirate ship is after you. But we were not cowards. The Black Flag pulled up, and there it was, the ship full of dead men. Dressed as pirates, but their meat falling off their bones. Skulls and rotten flesh. With swords and flintlocks, like they had come out of two hundred years ago. Grinning at us, singing songs about gullets and gizzards and stringing parts of us up on the masts, and making sails out of our skins. One of our crew jumped overboard. I don’t know what happened to him, but he must have thought that was a better fate than the song. The rest of us did the only thing we could think of. We opened fire. And they laughed at us, just laughed at us, as we fired until our clips ran dry. Some of them fell, I think, just chipped away by the rain of bullets, but they did not bleed. And they did not die. All they did was sing, louder and louder, even over the sound of gunfire. Laughing all the time. Our clips ran dry and we didn’t know what else to do. I took up an axe, cursing my luck and getting ready to meet my ancestors in shame. At least I would die trying, I told myself. Except I didn’t die. Instead, the captain had something else in mind. The captain. Captain Flintlock. Sunburned skin and red hair, and smiles and laughter and a stink of rum. With skirts and hats that belonged from two hundred years ago, just like her undead crew. She told us she wasn’t going to kill us. Not much, anyway. And then she raised her hands and… …you won’t believe this, even if you believed everything else. Something horrible came from below the ship. Like fog, or snakes, or something I can’t describe. It was like a nightmare. Whenever I try to think about what it was, something in my head tells me to look away, and every time I listen. I know its in my head, but I can’t look at it to remember it. Only in my dreams. And I don’t like my dreams. Never have, and I know I never will. I don’t remember it. Maybe I passed out. I think we got towed. Moved. By whatever thing the red-haired Flintlock summoned. She was drunk and laughing and quite mad. I think she had mercy, of a sorts, for she did not kill us although I am sure she could have done so it she wanted. Instead, she gave us all a memory that made us never want to set foot in a boat again. And here I am, in a Somali Prison, rotting away. I will be out in twenty, I think. If I survive. I will not be a young man anymore, but I will not be old either. And I will not die here, not if I have any say in it. I will cling to this life. Because now I have filled my heart with something that burns and keeps it beating no matter what is around me. My hate is my friend and my lover, and all I need to live. And when I get out, I will extract my revenge on Captain Flintlock, and it will be a bloody revenge. I will choke that smile and that laugh out of her with her last breath…

Starshot "That useless...." muttered Starshot under his breath. At least they had half a plan. Maybe 55% of a plan. It was true the odds were never going to fall kindly, but they had to make the most of the situation. With guts and blood if need be. But Phalen.... "If you have anything to say, now's the time to say it" he said grimly to the mad alien. "Because if you don't, then we all might die, and not in a good way. If you ever want to get off this planet. Or even just live on it, you should start talking!"

GM The bow clocked him on the side of the head. "Its not about foolishness...or cowardice....it just about guts...." he muttered, before losing his footing. The sniper's knife fell out of his limp hand, and he fell back, out cold. It was almost in slow motion, his fall. But there was still a very nasty crack and thud as he landed, first on a trash dumpster, then on the street. There was blood, and there was bones. Possibly there was more, one couldn't tell from this height in this light. And it was a mercy he was out cold when he landed.

Intimidate vs Demoralise: 1d20+8 11 Demoralised. Tough Save vs Bow: 1d20+5 13 and he fails by 15, meaning knocked out. And knocked off the building too.

GM "Uhhh...ok..." gasped Mack, his hands sweaty. He pulled them back, out of some strange self preservation. But his resistance had crumbled. "Look, missy. Hector was always a mean guy. Something off about him, ya know? I mean there are rumours. Like he is into witchcraft, or satanism, or something. He's got some creepy books he reads. Like what was that one I saw yesterday. The Sundered Veil and The Burning Eye..." "Read it. Rubbish" sighed Vic. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure it is all rubbish" said a put out Mack. "He casts spells, you see. Nothing came of it, until a few weeks ago, when he cast some spell on the dogs. And he looks pretty pleased with himself since. They...they got a taste for flesh...." he mumbled, awkward. "Human flesh...." "And tuna" he added. "Don't ask me why, but they seem to love tuna...."