Supercape

New Orleans, some dusty and languid late afternoon... In a crumbling old appartment in a crumbling old brick building. Cracks ran on the paint and the walls, but it was spacious. The furniture was old and ragged, but pleasant. Like the cuffed leather chair a man was sitting in, with a venous drip up his arm. He was drinking bourbon and the drip had some pale blue liquid running into his arm. He was in his sixties, at a guess, looking thin and haphazard. Dark skin, mixed race, although more heavy on the African heritage by guess. White hair. A sheen of sweat over his body. His vest and pants kind of hung of him. "Damn, it worked...I was right!" he said, energy in his heart but with a weak voice. "Care for a drink?" he said, manners getting to him. He stopped, concerned. "I mean...a drink of bourbon. I ain't really got much else. You, don't drink blood do you? Not that the poison running through my veins is gonna be any good for anyone, alive or dead..." "I'm Winston, by the way. Winston Welsh".

Medicine Roll for diagnosis: which I think gets the DC 10 Mark: Medicine Roll: 1d20+4 13

Lament "Sure, sure" nodded Luther at Benny. "Can't go leaving a woman in distress on the streets. Think of the press if it got out!" he winked. He hoped Benny was a good enough soul to not contemplate leaving the woman in the first place, and secondly, realise that Luther wasn't joking. Luther wouldn't consider anything else. He dragged the woman onto the bus. "Lets get going. And someone see if we can find a first aid box, huh?" He lay the battered woman down on some seats and tried to take a look at her, see if and where she was injured. "Whats your name, darlin'?" he asked, soothingly.

OOC for this

GM Freedom City January 17th The Residence of Jennifer James... 'Twas a most mysterious package, sent first class. The motorcycle courier had looked out of breath, saying he the delivery company had been ordered to send it with every speed. Ordered. Perhaps threatened. The package, once unwrapped, was an ice box. And inside the ice box was a jar of frozen blood, complete with a note. It was handwritten, and elegant. Dear Ms. James, My name is Winston Welsh. I am not a well man. In my bold endeavours for health I have read much about less conventional medicine, the supernatural, and so on. And I have dug deep into my family history, in search of an understanding of my haematological ailment, for no doctor understands it. I have come to believe (although I may be crazed and clinging to delusional hope), That you are a distant relative, and, maybe, a potential cure. Despite the remote possibility of my conclusion being true (as opposed to birthed from a maddened mind), I cling to hope. If correct, I would hope that this jar would give you good road to New Orleans, where I currently reside...

Starshot Starshot called for a breather, taking off his helmet and wiping his brow. The heat sinks on his spine kept him reasonably cool, but there was the matter of physical exertion. The grazers had made it easier, but no faster. A small win. There was the compulsory ritual of checking food, water, ammunition. All in all, they were in pretty reasonable shape, he thought. But time could grind even the best prepared expedition to dust. "North it is. Not quite the direction I should have wanted, but it is close enough, and I would follow the trail if we can. The blade grass saps will and muscle, and I would conserve both" he explained, getting ready once more and taking a look to see how Phalen was faring. "I know it is a hard road we have taken, but all we can do is grit our teeth and follow it. And once it is over, be glad for the journey. It will be in our dreams and in our tales, and it you can tell it over a round of Vester Ale in a seedy bar of your choosing" he said, a gravel laugh following. With that, he put his helmet back on and flicked on the Map HUD. Time to get moving...

Rev Rev, for her part, was not worried about the two runners. They may not have been pleasant and delightful individuals, but they hadn't actually attacked Zhu or the others. The real culprit looked pretty banged up. Her attention thus focused on "Posh", who was not, clearly, as antagonistic as the thug who had slammed them around, but on the other hand was still in her bad books. Not enough to punch in the face. But still in the her bad books. She did an elegant flip on one arm - sort of a roll, really, when it was extended out so far, and then whipped her other arm around at ground level, intending to wrap up the Posh thug good and tight. "I don't want to hurt you...much...but I'm not going to let you guys throw us around, huh? And I would really like to know where guys like you get super powers from...."

I think Rev will focus on Scary and Posh; in her mind the other two are relatively blameless. And Posh was relatively tame so non-lethal means! Move Action: Acrobatic Feint at -5, using Skill Mastery gives a 16 Result. Standard Action: Grapple Attack: Grapple again!: 1d20+10 23 I suspect that hits, and the opposed Grapple is: Anotrher opposed grapple: 1d20+25 41 some nice rolls in contrast to previously.

GM Filth listened to the rat, silent, once again. "Not alien? Huh...looked alien" he said. He took a half step forward but didn't push his luck any further. "Sure is spooky. I mean...strange" he mumbled, trying to concentrate and then shaking his head. "Things been pretty strange down here for the last month. I mean, stranger than normal" he added, trying to look cool. "Me and...well...my rat....he's called Vermin by the way" It was possible that the Rat on his shoulder nodded. "We been seeing some really strange things, ya know? Like giant ants" he said. "Seriously, strange. And, you know. A bit scary" he added, scratching his head. "Do you know what's been going on down here?" he asked again, keen for answers.

Sure thing!

Mr. Murk "Ah, welcome to Club Immortus, Madam!" said Mr. Murk as Voin entered the lobby. Since the sixties it had had subtle makeovers. It was, and remained, a place of antique luxury and style. A place where tactile and olfactory signatures were abundant - perhaps not surprising given the owner. But it had more modern, discrete, lighting, automatic doors, and the like. A few additions to make it generally more functional, especially for the blind. Why, there was even evidence of computers at work! "I have had the Chef hard at work. I presumed you were somewhat in a rush, lamentably, so I have taken the liberty of ordering the same dish at last time. Of course, if you desire something else, then please do forgive my impertinence and order. For myself, a fish soup!" he declared, waving Voin through to the dining area. It was empty, bar two women playing backgammon in the corner and discussing the 18th Century in less than glowing terms. "Please enlighten me, Madam. How have the decades treated you?" Mr. Murk of course made it his business to keep abreast of much, and in particular, immortals. He had garnered bits and pieces, perhaps not all but certainly some. Much of it might even be true. But the meat of the matter was how Voin felt.

Rev "Oh boy...this is going to hurt" said Rev. She hoped it would be the thugs. She whipped her arm around the nearest thug. "Ill show you some real bowling action. With your bones. I can't really use your skull. Too small. Too hollow" she japed as her arm coiled like a snake. "Now then, I know you are close to your friends..." she continued, hoisting him high like he was a stuffed animal. "And I'd like to get you real close..." she shouted as she threw him into another of the thugs that seemed - at least superficially - to be standing up with his friend. "After all, this is a bowling alley!"

GM Filth tilted his head, looking like he was listening to the whispering rat. He didn't advance any closer, however. "Ill keep my distance. I ain't gonna get my head bit off by a 10 foot lizard" said Filth, quite clear on this matter. "What ya mean...not too close?" asked Santa. He looked at his infected fungal skin and screamed. "Help! Help! I'm infected! Oooh...." he swooned, slinking to the floor. He pointed weakly at the mutant fungus on the carriage roof (and the sticky strands of goop running this way and that). "Its that...it's horrible! Oh! Oh! Its some kind of alien bodysnatcher...right?" Filth looked at Santa with an eye lifted and his head cocked listening to the rat on his shoulder. "That's some pretty messed up fungus, sure. What is it?" he asked Lobisomem and Arturus. "Is it an alien?"

Standard Action: Grapple with one arm (Posh) Grapple Attack: 1d20+10 13 I believe that misses but I will spend an HP (Was 5, Rev now Has 4 HP) [Top hint, keep track of HP in initiatives and elsewhere!] And reroll:Grapple attack reroll: 1d10+20 23 Which I guess will hit. So, opposed grapple rolls: Grapple opposed roll: 1d20+25 43! So if that beats his grapple roll he is pinned, and if it beats his grapple roll, he is bound. If her gets bound, Ill throw him at Scary Throw Posh at Ginger: 1d20+10 12 darn these rolls are bad, but because I really like this bowling mannuever, I will reroll that again (Now at 3 HP) Reroll throw P at G: 1d10+20 21 ubeleivable, but may still hit, which would be a damage 10 effect on both of them (plus, I hope, knockback!) Let me know how that goes and I will post.

Lament Luther got up from his seat and rubbed his eyes. Goddamn it...am I seeing things....? "This is some serious Hoodoo, eh? Just what we need to spice up the show. Raggedy women running through the woods on a dark night" he muttered. Still, this did look like a woman in dire peril. Luther opened the Bus door and got out. "Darlin' what happened? Do you need help? Are you in danger? We can help!" he said, projecting his voice with calm authority and standing as tall as he could.

GM The rats scuttled around the subway car. There was more scuttling inside the walls and pipes of this long forgotten architecture. The Punk turned on a flashlight; a nice powerful old fashioned one. Large, clunky, resilient. The rat on his solider scuttled to the other side, keeping beady eyes on the the whole situation. "Well this ain't good" mumbled the Punk. "I didn't think nobody knew about down here" he said, almost sounding disappointed. "Looks like we...I mean I...got gatecrashed. Welcome to the party" he mumbled a little louder, although he did not sound particularly welcoming. He walked up to the subway car. He had a knife and a pistol in his belt but he made no indication that he would use them. He wasn't aggressive, even if he wasn't welcoming. "My names Filth. You on my turf" he explained, trying to look tough. It was no easy feat given the situation. "What the hell happened here?"

Notice Roll: 1d20+8 14

GM "You are a big man, but English!" laughed the captain, slamming down the glasses and the vodka. "We...are RUSSIAN!" he said to much cheering and clapping. The first shots were poured. They were followed by the second, and, yay, the third. There was much cheering. The fourth and fifth followed, and by this time the first subtle signs of intoxication were to be felt. By the sixth and, lo, the seventh, one could quite clearly see the signs of clumsiness and slurred words. On the eight, the eyes moved slowly, lagging behind the movement of the head. One or two started feeling ill. On the ninth, there was the sound of gurgling and snoring. By the tenth, all were resolutely sound asleep, or so ill that they were effectively comatose.

Reflex Save vs IT IS A MYSTERY: 1d20+8 23

For early consideration, a possible Vanguard member when I have a free slot (est 2 months) Sergeant Shark Power Level: 10 (180/180) Unspent Power Points: 0 Trade-Offs: None In Brief: Special Forces Soldier turned into Shark-man Catchphrase: “Fortune Favours the Bold” Alternate Identity: Victor Tiberius Finn Birthplace: Dover, England Residence: London Base of Operations: London Occupation: Marine "Consultant" Affiliations: Vanguard, Unison Family: Lisa Drake (Surgeon, Sister) Description: Age: 37 Apparent Age: 37 Gender: Male Ethnicity: [Previously] Caucasian Height: 6’1” Weight: 120 Kgs Eyes: Black Hair: None Victor has transformed into a hairless marine hybrid, with blue-grey skin, black eyes, and sharp claws and teeth. He usually wears little but shorts (to keep it all PG rated). His feet have webbed, splayed toes. History: Victor came from a military family with a somewhat spartan upbringing. He joined the secretive British elite special forces, the Special Boat Service, and was an effective soldier specialising in tactics. An expert in diving, Victor and his team were called to dismantle a sunken experimental submarine. Unfortunately, the reactor had leaked radiation, and it was driving the marine life wild. Victors team were killed by a maddened radioactive shark. Victor though he was dead, being chomped and bitten. He did not, however. He was transformed into a hybrid shark – man, giving him remarkable amphibious abilities, super senses, and incredible strength. Personality & Motivation: Victor has a determined, almost cold, dedication to getting the job done. He is a soldier at heart, although he has other interests such as marine biology and ecology. He has become something of an "eco-warrior" in recent times, seeing the damage done to the worlds oceans. Outside of the "mission", he is still a disciplined man, not drinking or smoking. He has a fondness for the theatre and opera, liking the play of drama, although he has no particular artistic bent himself. He lets very few people into his psyche (Arguably, not even himself), but has a number of more superficial friends, including military comrades (although he is has now retired from military service). Powers & Tactics: Victor is incredibly strong and resilient, and will fight clean and effectively in hand to hand combat. He has immense tactical experience and will always wish to engage with the benefit of surprise, and on his terms. His preferred environment is the open sea / ocean where he is especially effective. As a peculiar effect of his transformation, Victor can communicate with Sharks. Aside from his powers, Victor is a highly trained soldier and has degrees in oceanology and marine biology. Complications: Blood lust: Victor’s brain has some shark like qualities. The smell of blood will make him increasingly aggressive, distracted, and hungry. In any case, he has a taste for raw fish which may give rise to unpleasant social situations. Dry Skin: Victor’s skin needs to be exposed to water twice a day or it will become dry, irritable, and painful, again distracting him or making him lose focus. Protracted periods will cause worse problems. He usually swims twice a day to compensate, but a shower would also do. Yes Sir!: Victor has a tendency to believe and trust (without thinking) senior military officers and obey orders. This tendency is also applies to a lesser degree to rank and file military men / women. Masters of psychology, deception, or disguise might easily manipulate Victor. Stone Cold: Victor is an experience professional soldier dedicated to the mission. He has killed and seen plenty of people killed. In the event of any tragedy or loss he has little or no time for sympathy, at least until the mission is completed (and even then, his empathy is blunted). This can easily cause people to view him as heartless, and alienate any victims. Colour Blind: Victors eyes are almost all rod cells, allowing him to see in very low light. But this also means he has very poor or absent colour vision. Fighter Not A Lover: Victor looks pretty ferocious and not human. Whilst he is known hero with a solid reputation, he still looks scary, and initial reactions might be startled or uncomfortable. Abilities: 20 + 6 + 20 + 2 + 1 + 2 = 56 STR: 30 (+10) DEX: 16 (+3) CON: 30 (+20) INT: 14 (+2) WIS: 12 (+1) CHA: 14 (+2) Combat: 20 + 20 = 40 Initiative: +11 Attack: +10 Defense: +10 (+5 Flat Footed) Grapple: +22 Knockback: -5 Saving Throws: 2 + 7 + 5 = 14 Toughness: +10 (+10 Con) Fortitude: +12 (+10 Con, +2) Reflex: +10 (+3 Dex, +7) Will: +6 (+1 Wis, +5) Skills: 100 Ranks = 25 PP Bluff 4 (+6) Climb 4 (+14) Drive 4 (+7) Intimidate 14 (+16) Knowledge [Earth Sciences] 8 (+10) Knowledge [Life Sciences] 8 (+10) Knowledge [Tactics] 14 (+16) Language 2 (Arabic, English [Native], French] Medicine 4 (+5) Notice 12 (+13) Sense Motive 4 (+5) Stealth 12 (+15) Survival 4 (+5) Swim 6 (+16) Feats: 20PP Accurate Attack All Out Attack Benefit: Vanguard Member Benefit 2: Use Knowledge [Tactics] for Master Plan and to avoid Ambush/Feint Blind Fight Environmental Adaptation [underwater] Favoured Environment [underwater] Favoured Opponent [marine life] Fearless Improved Grab Improved Initiative 2 Jack of All Trades Leadership Master Plan Power Attack Startle Takedown Attack 1 Uncanny Dodge (Olfactory) Powers 3 + 1 + 3 + 1 + 1 + 10 + 4 + 4 = 27 All powers have mutation and shark descriptor Strength Bonus (Applies to Unarmed: Improved Critical 2, Variable Descriptor 1 [Unarmed, Claw, Teeth]) [3 PP] Comprehend 2 (Speak to, Understand, Limited: Sharks) [1 PP] Immunity 3 (Cold, High Pressure, Suffocation [Drowning]) [3 PP] Leaping 1 (x2 Distance: Running 40’, Standing 20’, High Jump 10’) [1 PP] Speed 1 (10 Mph) [1 PP] Super Senses 10 (Accurate [Olfactory], Acute [Olfactory], Direction Sense, Extended 1 [Vision], Extended 1 [Olfactory], Low Light Vision, Tracking 3 [All out movement, Olfactory]) [10 PP] Super Strength 2 (+10 STR) [4 PP] Swimming 4 (25 mph) [4 PP] Drawbacks: -2 PP Vulnerability (Fire; Frequency: Common; Intensity: Minor [+1]) [-2PP] DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 25 Toughness Damage Abilities 56 + Skills 25 + Feat 20 + Powers 27 + Combat 40 + Saves 14 = 180

GM And so...on the blue planet...in the City of London... 1863 The Moonstone itself had many powers, many untapped ones. And Vortex Ming had made it his business to know every bit of dangerous or useful technology on Lunar City. Temporal Projection was one of them. Red Moon had been projected into the past, on a psychic rubberband. It would pull her back to the "Present" in a day. Maybe two. BAck into her own body. But, here was the warning; if her psychic projection died or came to harm, so would her "real body". As for her landing. It was pre dawn, on a musty summers day in London. On a cobbled street. "Who are you then?" It was a tramp. A filthy, smelly, tramp. On the docks of Deptford, with the slime that was the River Thames flowing slowly past. "You look well strange! What are you, Chinese?" asked the Tramp.

Rev What the freaking freak? Rev was quick, her arms up, her face turned. But this was a shocking move, and she felt duly shocked. She took one step back and felt the force rip through her body. Tracks of gel skin flew of her arms revealing the bright and chrome limbs underneath. Her hair got ruffled. This was upsetting. "Zhu!" was her first response, seeing her friend tumble across the bowling alley. She felt a dual surge of worry and fury. "You'll be remembering this day for a long time!" she said through gritted teeth. The gel skin split on her arms as both elongated out to a couple of dozen feet. Whoa! She forgot how tricky it was to use her limbs like this. She hadn't had much practice, really. But for what its worth, she tried to shove one steel shiny fist into the bullies jaw...

Move action: Elongate arms Standard action: Punch! Punch Thug: 1d20+10 14 I guess that will miss but lets see!

Reflex Save vs Explosion: 1d20+11 14 Failed Reflex Save. But! Evasion 2, so even with the fail, the damage is halve. It looks like a damage 11 effect, so half that (rounded down as per area rules), do that works out as DC 20 I guess? (Correct me if I am wrong!) That means Tough vs Explosion: 1d20+10 27 unharmed! Initiative: 1d20+7 13 for Initiative.