Supercape

Ok so that takes Dr D to 0 HP The damage effect will hit everybody you wish it to. Its enough to easily smash to the two "security guards" see IC. It only just hits the woman, however, so no bonus to DC 25 Save and she gets: Toughness: 1d20+10 16 so bruised and dazed. Block Head is up and will smash the Snare, again, thats a whopping Damage 19 / DC 34 effect : Tough Save vs Block Head: 1d20+9 17 That is a fail by 15, so the snare is destroyed. mannequin and Imprint are dazed, so we start again! Round 3 16 - Dr D, Unharmed, 0 HP 8 - Block Head, Unharmed 3 - Mannequin, Bruised, Dazed, 2 HP 1- Imprint (Micro Woman), Bruised Dr D is up!

Mr Murk "Evolution is the only way to survive. Alas, the Immortal is often bereft of such process" replied Mr. Murk. "It is my idea, this is true, and it would be foolish to deny it. But it belongs to those who sign. My role is lawyer, book keeper, and business man. My power is no more, and no less. My only claim to authority would be that the club Immortus buildings are in my name, built on my business. Of course, other people may open their own, but frankly, it is a labour of love. Not all find the practicalities of law and finance to their taste. In fact, very few do. It is hardly a passion of mine, but I have found I have a knack for such" he conceded. He signalled to the waiter, who promptly brought over a large antique tome, well bound. Inside was inked signaturities and a lot of rather dry legal terms. A glass of port was brought over too. "The drink is optional, of course. But it is rather good" smiled Mr. Murk, handing over a quill and ink pot.

Ok so Dr D is unharmed Mannequin is dazed and bruised! Round 2 16 - Dr D, Unharmed, 1 HP 8 - Block Head, Unharmed 3 - Mannequin, Bruised, Dazed, 2 HP 2 - Security Guards [2], Unharmed 1- Imprint (The tiny woman) Dr D is up

Rev "Right! This is the place! And this is the time! Lets go!" said Rev, cheerfully, pointing at the centre of the Mall. Then she stopped, and drummed her fingers together. She was a bit of a state at this point. The gel skin had pretty much peeled off all her limbs, bar the odd ragged patch here and there. Even a casual glance in her direction would lead to wide eyes. And Rev, despite all appearances, was somewhat self conscious. All the pep talk in the world wouldn't ablate that. She kept it under wraps, but Zhu knew. And the mall, well, the mall was a trigger for those feelings. "Let go and...errr....well. We need to find them. Hmmm, do you have any bear senses or something?" she asked Jack. "Failing that, I'll take a cunning plan..."

Rev "Potters row shopping centre, you say? Yeah, its a really tricky level. I find using my awesome triple-mega-spinal-whirlwind-organ-grinder move works pretty well there" said Rev, lost in thought. "Well Jack, whenever you are ready. I got enough fuel to get us there easy, and some more in reserve. What do you say?" "Thanks for everything ma'am, and kid!" she gave a wave to them both. It was time to go to Potters Row. And maybe stop off for a refuel on the way...

GM The goo sprayed onto Mannequin, who got the full measure of it. "What's this? Some kind of glue? Hmmm....very effective! I will have to use this when I build!" he said, actually quite happy to have tasted the glue and the forcefield. "Why you keep such marvels from me, I do not know! Cruelty?" he enquired. "Hands off the property! He is not yours!" yelled the two guards. In suspicious unison. Perfect unison, in fact. And their declaration made, both charged head long into the two heroes, smashing into them with heavy fists. And then, to add further problems to the mix, Mannequin heard a voice by his ear. "He's mine! I may have stolen your formula, but I created him!" On his shoulder was a tiny woman. Maybe an inch tall, dressed in a blue costume and rather nifty mirrored eye shades. She was quick and strong, for Mannequin soon found himself the victim of a very strong punch thrown by the woman, a straight sock to the jaw that felt like it was thrown by a seven foot man instead of an inch tall woman.

Each Security Guard will charge, all out, power attack on the respective (and flat footed) heroes! Rush Heroes: 2#1d20+7 18 18 Both hit, flat footed heroes - and its a relatively minor DC 22 Toughness Save each. And more problems to come! Another attack, flat footed, on Mannequin: Punches Mannequin: 1d20+10 26 hitting, and causing a DC 23 Toughness save!

Trapped by Create object would still allow a reflex roll (as its different from snared) - Ill give him a -2 penalty on it however, so: Reflex roll vs snare: 1d20+4 7 Irrespective of the reflex vs area, he fails! Snared.

GM "I may be ignorant! But Ignorance is bliss!" shouted all five faces furiously. "Oh! Lamentations! Why did my eyes and ears open? Why could you not leave me be in simple contentment!" "I must be free! Free I say! To build!" And with that, he started pounding on the forcefield with both hands. The power was immense. Each blow could shatter slabs of concrete individually, and yet somehow the Forcefield only spluttered and fizzed from the impact. "What is this? What have you built around me but with a thought? It is awesome! And yet, I must destroy it to be free!"

So Block Head will, as a move action, smash the forcefield. Power attacking +2 DC/-2 Damage as he cannot, essentially, miss. Adding his Super STR to the roll as an inanimate object is being attacked, thats a whopping Damage 19 effect, or a DC 34 Toughness roll. Smash! Force Field: 1d20+10 25 is a fail by 9, so the Force Field just makes it - gets away with but an injury!

Reflex Save: 1d20+6 14 surrounded by forcefield!

Round 1 16 - Dr D, Unharmed, 1 HP 8 - Block Head, Unharmed 3 - Mannequin, Unharmed, 2 HP 2 - Security Guards [2], Unharmed Doctor D is up! (And dont forget that DC 32 Notice Roll)

GM The Cameraman put up his hand. "Zyte Guyst! King of Multimedia!" he yelled, happily. "I can shine up your image, mister! Enough with the smoke, we want some serious pyrotechnics! I can work on your colour scheme and give you multi-media penetration. PEN - ERR- TRAY - SHON!!!" he said, pumping the air with a fist. Chill Pill looked confused. "I...arrr....I paid for this!" he said, bamboozled. "What? This is a media gig? I'll tear that camera in half and shove each part up each hole, you jumped up guttersnipe!" yelled the Skull wearing thug, who proceeded to charge towards Zyte Guyst, the cameraman. "Oh dear...." muttered an alarmed Zyte, who still had the presence to keep filming. "What do I do? What do I do?" asked Chill Pill, pleading for direction.

Pitch Arcanum Magazine No 117, Special Report by Vic Sanchez. Draft article (With Editorial comments) Who, or what, is Pitch? You have heard the stories, sure. The biker from hell. The speed demon. The infernal demon claiming the souls of the wicked here on earth. Perhaps even some of the stories are true. But what are the facts? Arcanum magazine prides itself on being a cheap rag full of lies [Ed – Vic, come and see me in my office. And replace with something about serious journalism and high quality], so we set out to find out the truth behind the fog of rumours. At first glance, Pitch looks pretty frightening [Ed – put some pictures here. Preferably some ones showing a bit of flesh. You know our audience]. Riding a blazing motorcycle, all that leather and smoke. Breathing fire and hurling blazing metal. Makes quite an impression, and that impression is “Infernal Sorcerer from the thirteenth level of hell” [Ed – Make some reference to some past articles we dredged up on infernal maps. Makes us look credible]. But what if we look closer? There certainly seem to be signs of something infernal there. The tinge of flame, the way it licks the body in an almost seductive way [Ed- Sex this up. You know our audience]. What about eye witness reports? Some, clearly, are too shocked too speak. Some too frightened. Perhaps they think even acknowledging the devil will summon him. Some have been ordered to speak nothing of the events due to official secrets and security. But of those you do speak to, they give a similar picture, even if there are the odd fancies that are added here and there. The fire, the fury, the metal. No wonder that Pitch is a favourite of hard core heavy metal bands. There is something else in the stories, too. The smell. Smoke has a smell, true, but the eye witness accounts all speak of the smell of sulphur and brimstone. Surely this is some sign, some whiff of the infernal? [Ed – Speak to Greg from the Alchemy section, he might have something to add to make us look clever]. So much for eyewitness accounts. What about actual hard made up [Ed- Watch it…] evidence that Arcanum magazine thrives itself [Ed – Prides itself] on? Various so called [Ed – reputable, seriously, Vic do I have to correct everything?] experts have applied their talents to the matter. Edlritch spectometers, Divine astrolabes, even good old fashioned and ever reliable Tarot cards, they all seem to converge to one inescapable fact. Pitch is a demon! What exactly does that mean? What type of demon? Batezu? Nilfen? Our knowledge of demonology is of course inprecise, and perhaps this is the only thing that Scholars agree on. There are various schools of thought, and many derived from Abrahamic faiths. Perhaps all have a different lens through which they view the horrible truths. Perhaps we are not meant to understand what is arguably not understandable. Should we scared then? If Pitch is indeed a demon from some underworld or another, then the logical conclusion would be that we should be. And yet the evidence suggests we should not. To date Pitch has only shown herself to wreak havoc and vengeance on the violent or criminal. We should not blindly assume that this will always be the case in the future, but it is at least a glimmer of reassurance. When one examines her actions, there is further reassurance. Even when violent, there is evidence of rage, perhaps, but not cruelty. Given Pitch could impale and twist metal in the most medieval and barbaric of ways that would make Vlad the Impaler jealous [Ed – Can we ramp this up? A bit more on the torture? Check with legal…] her violence has a restraint to it. It is violent, yes, but when one contemplates what should could do, the manner of her violence seems…dare I say it…humane? Humane, for a demon. That hardly makes sense, does it? And this is why we must look a little more closely, past the smoke both literal and figurative. Past the knee jerk opinions of the priest or the cultist, politician or musician. We should perhaps consider demons beyond the classical, Abrahamic light. There are other views. Lucifer, bringer of light, is by some considered a more benevolent figure or at least not a completely malign one. Some might say that the infernal is merely an aspect of the celestial plan. Some reject all notion of the infernal or celestial, and consider such creatures as aspects of something else entirely. When considering Pitch, we need to consider these views all. What drives a man? Or, in this case, a woman? If Pitch truly has a gender at all. For the sake of argument, however, given that the form taken is most assuredly female, we shall consider her as such. One can perhaps extrapolate from action, and one school of philosophy would have us judge by actions, or at least intent, rather than nature. It could not be said that Pitch fully works with the authorities, or even is fully law abiding, for perhaps some villains are smote a little too hard, or perhaps she rides that blazing motorcycle a little too fast, or recklessly. There seems to be a healthy disrespect for government and all its tentacles, but there is no open rebellion, no anarchy. She might stretch the patience of the law, she might throw insult and jibe, but as yet, war has not broken out. On occasion, she has worked with the police, and never – at least openly – against them. She has, on occasion, even collaborated with the superhero community of Freedom City, and beyond. The Mexican border has often seen that blazing plume of smoke, and with the same mixed response. Some cheer, some pray. Some do both. Thus, we have signs of positive collaboration. Her actions, whilst not always perfect, are reassuring. And who can claim to always be perfect? What of motivation? Let us put aside for a moment the simplistic view that because there is an infernal air to her, she must be evil. What do we see with our own eyes? There is a furious flavour to her, at times. Something angry. And who cannot say they have been angry? More to the point, what makes her angry? Look at the evidence. She is not, by all accounts, in a perpetual state of rage. Not drowning in fury, not clothed in vengeance. When her blood boils it seems, at least to me, that it boils with good reason. When locking horns in combat, when battered but not broken, when facing cruelty or barbarism. She gets angry when she should get angry. Is that so wrong? Dangerous, perhaps. Unpredictable, perhaps, but not wrong. We all get angry, and so we should. Its just that you and I can’t impale someone with a burning metal spear. What then, should we think? I, for one, can’t say Pitch is evil, even if she is infernal. She makes the world a better place, by and large. I may not agree with her execution or modus operandi, but I can’t make an argument against her results. I’m glad she is tearing through the streets, an infernal loose cannon that is for the most part pointed in the right direction. That said, we should remain vigilant and cautious. What if the cannon swings another way? Do we have the means to protect ourselves against Pitch? Does the government or AEGIS have contingency plans? Should we, as members of the Eldritch community, make contingencies? [Ed – See if we can play up the marketing here – speak to advertising] All we can do is hope. And perhaps even pray. [Ed- Vic, you have a serious attitude problem. I'd fire you if you weren't so cheap...]

Rene De Saens As told by Sebastian Rhodes, 55. Me? I live next door to Rene, the old fool, he he. Now let me tell you, he ain’t just a helpless old man, no matter what he says. No matter what anybody says. I guess you heard the rumours, you know. Fighting vampires, turning children into frogs, casting wicked spells and all that jazz. Yeah, jazz. I’m a musician. Jazz is my thing. Perhaps you would like to hear my latest album, the filthy pot? No? Uh, well, suit yourself. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. Or behind. Maybe sideways, too. Guess that’s how I am, my friend. Never keep to the same beat. I’m just built that way. I should probably introduce myself. Sebastian Rhodes. People call me Seb. I live alone with my Son, Casper, right next door to Rene. It’s a good street man, and the houses are beautiful. And expensive, yeah, that’s true. I’ve done good for myself. Sold a lot of music. Played a lot of music. Not ashamed to say it, either. And Rene, well, he’s done pretty good for himself too. Sold a lot of art. And its good man. Real, good. I mean, look here…he gifted me this on my fiftieth. And this is just one of his drafts. Knocked it out in a day, he said. Don’t know if I believe him. Its beautiful, yeah? Long shadows in an orange sky, he calls it. Says it is a scene of Amsterdam. Don’t know if I believe him about that, either. You never know when he is lying. But I guess, now, this may so strange, but even when he lies, he is telling the truth. Maybe a different type of truth, but his words kind of rattle round your head and make you think. That’s Rene. We are pretty good neighbours. We met pretty near my birthday, back in ’12. Hit it off straight away. This part of town is full of artists, musicians, and philosophers. Some make it big. Most don’t. Especially the philosophers. But big or small, we got this kind of buzz going on, you see? Kindred spirits, every house and every apartment. There’s a vibe here, something in the water, attracts us all to this street like moths to a flame. Even in a street like this, in a town like this, where we all part of a family, some people just click that little bit more. Its like that with me and Rene. Now he is an old fool and I’m a divorced jack ass whose gone through six marriages faster than a blink of an eye. Guess I ain’t the kind of man built for relationships. Maybe Rene ain’t either, but I don’t think its that. Not really. I mean, I know he likes men. Don’t bother me, but at his age, well, that kind of love didn’t go down to well back in the day, I guess. Maybe he got burnt. Maybe he got burnt again. I get this sense of sadness, when it comes up. He don’t exactly hide it, but there’s this feeling of pain in the past, something heavy in his heart when it comes to love. I guess he made peace with it. But I pick up on something, even if I don’t rightly know what it is. Let me tell you a story. It was a few years back. ’14, I think. Maybe ’15. Halloween. Now, pretty much every year Old Rene gets a few pranks calls. You know the type, religious folk claiming he is the devil, or at least working with him. A few new age fanatics, wanting some spiritual wisdom or a crystal aligned with the forces of the universe. We put up with them, by and large, even when they make a fuss. Rene just slams the door on them and calls them idiots. Right move, if you ask me. But round Halloween we get a bit more, ah, activity. More of the same. And a few other folk. Had to call the police a few times. Sometimes some crazies, need help, you know what I mean. Kids, often, daring each other to play trick or treat on the Crazy old wizard. Rene still gives em candy, even if he scares them witless. And once. Well, once we really did have a scare. Plenty of people dabblin’ in witchcraft, and sorcery. I guess every now and again, somebody does something by accident. What, you don’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo voodoo? Well, I don’t blame you. I didn’t. You try not believing when you live next door to Rene. So this Halloween, some kids musta been dabblin’. I don’t know the how, nor the why of it. I don’t really want to know. But they had come right outside Rene’s house and were reading some hoodoo latin stuff. Probably they downloaded it off the internet. Maybe the stars were right. My guess, is that Rene does have some serious stuff going on his basement, and they managed, by luck or fate, to siphon off just a little bit of that Eldritch power. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy. People gossip about magic all the time, but it ain’t real right? Well these two kids, one had a pumpkin on his head. Ever seen someone with a plastic pumpkin on his head breathe fire? The other was dressed up like a ghost. Dude starts floating in the air. Something possessed them. Now my kid Casper, he was maybe fifteen at the time. Good kid, but you know, much as a love him, he got a nervous disposition. Shy. Mother was no good, and drunk. Hey maybe I was no good and drunk back then too. But at least I pulled my act together when he was born. Changed me, he did. For the better. Anyway, Casper was outside, handing out candy, and saw this freaky spooky act. He freaked out, and screamed. The other kids, they freaked out and ran. They still talk about it to this day. But Casper, he froze. That ghost kid, he floated up and put his hand right through my son. He screamed again. Not like before. This one, well, heck, I can still remember it. Chilled your bones, and chilled your soul. I thought he was going to die, or worse. I came rushing out feeling like the whole world was going to end. That’s what its like having kids, I guess. Rene came out too. Maybe he isn’t as slow as he makes out. Always whining about his hip, his back. Any damn joint he can think of. Probably a few joints he is making up. Now I know he is old, but he can move when he wants to. He might act like he don’t care. But he does. He muttered something under his breath in French. Don’t ask me what it was, I don’t speak French. But I’m guessing it had some swearing in it. It felt like he was calling the two kids idiots. Just very emphatically. He waved his hand, almost casual like, and from the ground came some sparkling light, falling upwards. Like stars, only falling upwards. Not sure if it burnt those kids, or froze them. Maybe did a bit of both. But something fell to the skies with those stars. Something ghostly and terrible. Whatever possessed them, it was gone, to the night. Rene came up to Casper and the two sleeping kids to check they were alright. Guess they were. Casper though, he was changed. Me and his mother, we both full on African American. You know, black skin, deep brown eyes. Casper too. Only now, his eyes were shining silver. Have been that way ever since. And he was terrified, shocked. Sensitive soul, he was, and I was scared this was going to change him inside as well as out. Old Rene came up to him and looked in his eyes. “Gone silver. Quite a look. You won’t look normal again, son” he said, bluntly, with a wink and a child. “Everyone will talk about those eyes. They don’t look ugly, they don’t look beautiful. But they will talk all the same. But the ladies will love them, if you let them. Especially in moonlight” he explained. And I guess that’s Rene. Making the most of what happens, good or bad, or – as he would put it – strange. I couldn’t say Casper is a confident soul. Still shy around the ladies. Always asking if he is good looking, will they like him, will they love him. Not a confident boy. Except in moonlight.

GM The Cameraman didn't miss a beat, and retorted straight away. "Ego! Two words! E! GO!" "I didn't come here to film you, Mr. Vanity! I came here to film...well....see for yourself! CHILL PILL! YOU ARE ON!" With a very loud Swish! sound of falling ice, enter stage left, came Chill Pill. He was a vigorous man with a vigorous physique shown off in a blue spandex number. His hair was white, his eyes so blue they almost shone. He was tanned and heroic looking. As if, perhaps, by design. "Halt Evil-Doer! Today, you face the merely magnificent might of Chill Pill! For I...ah....err...PROMPT!" he called in faux Shakespearian manner to the air. "I come to save the day..." sighed the Cameraman. "I COME TO SAVE THE DAY! Wait...what's with all this smoke, I can't see anything!" replied Chill Pill, for it that was the name of the icy blue spandex wearing man.

GM Block Head looked, non-plussed, at the two men addressing him. "You are making no sense? I do not deal in the abstract. I deal in concrete, wood, ceramics, glass, metal, plastics. These are the only philosophy I need!" He pointed in an accusatory way. "You have sundered my existence!" This was more than anger, it was defiance. It was rebellion. As if to punctuate his point, the fire sprays opverhead activated, and a klaxxon sounded. The two security guards paused, frozen, as if statues...

Hero Point to Mannequin for HQ invasion hand waive! Mannequin HP 2 Initiative Rolls! Security Guards: Initiative: 1d20+1 2 Block Head: Initiative: 1d20 8 The Fire Prevention System has activated, although has no mechanical effects right now. Could you also try (hard!) to make a DC 32 Notice Check

GM "What? By all the blazing hells! Smoke!!!! AAAAgh!" screamed the cameraman in fury. "The artist's worst enemy! So much for improvisation! The cut is useless! All dashed!" he complained, just with Bonfire's earshot. "We'll have to wait for it to clear and try to salvage something with Chill Pill afterwards. I can't believe it!" "What? You filming this?" grunted the Skull who, oddly, seemed nonplussed by the smoke, able to see right through it. "What's going on?" he demanded of Bonfire, advancing once again with fist smashing into palm.

GM Vic wasn't much for looking glassy eyed and obedient Not her nature. But, to her credit, she played the part. And people believe what they want to believe. "Really? Never let it be said that Morgan won't turn down some custom" he said, eagerly. A flick of vexation crossed his face. "But I have a problem" he said, not liking the words that came from his fat lips. "I'm not in a trusting mood, and I'll tell you why. Hector, the old devil, he bought some special meats from me just two weeks ago. Turned his dogs into blazing hellhounds". He slammed his cleaver once more, heavily, into the counter. "Never knew the old dabbler had it in him. But, curse my luck, he did. Got a pack of infernal wolves at my door. Ah! It stings doubly that I was the engine of my own misfortune..." he shook his head. "So I am left paranoid. With good reason, for Hector wants more meats. And if you are selling something special, he will do whatever it takes to get it..."

Rev "Maybe girls should be doing that too!" said Rev, sparking up her feisty engine. She was a tomboy by anybodies measure, although she didn't approve of the term. "Yeah we are good enough to do it!" she continued confidently. "Just point us in the right direction. Where do we go?" she asked. And what exactly do we do when we get there? We aren't vigilantes.... But one step at at time... ...unfortunately....

GM "Calm? Need?" said each of Block Heads faces, full of confusion. "What do those words even mean???" "WHO AM I! WHY AM I! I NEED ANSWERS!!!!" he screamed as the emergency lights flashed a dull red over his purple hued body. The emergency was in full swing, and a couple of security guards thudded into the foundry. "Halt! What is transpiring?" they asked, almost in unison. Mannequin did not recognise either of them. They spoke flatly, and seemed slow of intellect. Or even drugged, perhaps. Whatever they wanted, they were at least not pulling guns...

GM "No! It is frustrating!" shouted Block Head straight back. It was become increasingly obvious that when emotionally aroused, his five faces started talking slightly out of synch. It was an unpleasant cacophony, and could even make it hard to understand what he was saying. "I feel myself crumbling, inside" he said, still angry. "What have you done? I was happy, before, in my world. Now, my mind is jumbled and confused. I have lost harmony. Why did you do this?" He pounded his head again. "What am I? WHAT AM I????"

Could you throw me some notice rolls please!

Starshot Starshot pondered the matter carefully. The tribe were no strangers to stealth and ambush, which was a start. But also, it seemed, it was the finish. Hunting gave valuable skills, but it was designed for animals. They were facing something quite different. And he said so. "Fighting the pirates...the sky demons....will be different to fighting animals. I am sure you are brave, fast, and strong. But this will be different to hunting" he explained. "They will be prepared, and they will no how to fight back" "We must hunt in a different way...." he offered, hopeful that they would be flexible enough to at least try.