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Supercape

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  1. Mr Murk "You do? Hmmm. Please to hear it. He is a man of passion and intellect. I am fond of him. Particularly when he disagrees with me" replied Murk, honestly. "That said, he has a brutal edge to him. A man of his times, I suppose. I can understand how you and he did not mix well" He drank some wine, mulling the matter and savouring the taste. "I would not wish to mend a relationship that does not wish to be mended. I would not play peacemaker, at least, without being asked. Impertinence to do so. But, I would understand both you and he, for I take great interest in the souls of all immortals. Would you humour me and explain the nature of your quarrel?"
  2. Supercape

    Bloodsong

    GM Winston carefully poured out a very generous glass of bourbon. "I have some kind of blood disease. Nobody can work it out. Inflammatory auto immune disease, they reckon. Spent my last dime trying to get a cure, but nobody figured it out" he nodded at the drip. "This stuff keeps my alive. Just. But as I am as weak as a man twice my age, and I ain't young, I'm telling you..." he sighed. "So I got to getting desperate, see? Did my research. Now, I only got scraps, here and there. But...you a vampire or something?" he asked, unsure of himself. "I can scarcely believe it. You know. But that's what I figures, chasing down all the newspapers and official documents and this and that down here in New Orleans" he explained, still unsure. "And from what I understand, you are my great grandmother cousin twice removed or somethin' Now I know that ain't much, but its all I got..." He shrugged. "Got some real voodoo stuff down here, you know. Some crazy guy thinks he can cure me with your blood. He is all black magic and that. A year ago, I wouldn't have given him the time of day. Right now, its all I got...."
  3. Mr. Murk "Russia, yes. Russia. I pondered opening a club there you know. Had a Russian immortal might help with that one day. Interesting man" he replied fondly. "But Russia seems to unstable, dangerous right now. Lamentably. The Club is perhaps needed there most, but I cannot open one safely. Vexatious, vexatious..." he muttered, displeased with the situation. "I congratulate you on your family. Myself, I have none. And, barring some miracle of science, will not. As an immortal however, I am in no hurry" he explained. "But you, on the other hand, have been busy, I see. I have a more subtle slow hand, myself. Although I forsee that my game must change, and change soon. Tell me then, what say you of the world you have seen and felt these last years?"
  4. Lament "Dead to the world. But fortunately not dead" replied Taylor. Addressing both Benny and Taylor, he voiced his concerns and thoughts. "Look, lets get her a room. Maybe we can ask Kendra to watch over her. I'm no doctor, but I think its just a case of exhaustion, shock and dehydration. A bit of sleep and drinking water should get her back to normal" he explained. "Meantime, this seems mighty spooky to me. Straight out of a horror film. I think we should call the cops, or sherrif, or whatever passes for the Law round here. See if they can shed some light on things..." he offered. "Sounds like there's somebody, or something, in those woods that ain't to friendly..."
  5. Lament "Looks a bit dehydrated. But she will live. No spooky voodoo knives of carved bones sticking out her ribs. That's always a good start. Hmmm....must add that to the show..." rambled Luther, trying to clean up the woman a little with water and rags. "Just look where yer going!" he called out to the driver. "Don't be wantin' to run over anyone running screamin' out of the woods" He turned his attention back to the woman and Kendra. "Darlin', Darlin' can you hear me?" he asked her, a little more loudly. "I need to know your name, Sweetheart...someone I can call?" he asked. "Kendra, I don't feel right, as a man, patting her down. Could you see if she got a wallet or somethin'? maybe someone we can call, a contact number?"
  6. Supercape

    Bloodsong

    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".
  7. Medicine Roll for diagnosis: which I think gets the DC 10 Mark: Medicine Roll: 1d20+4 13
  8. 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.
  9. Supercape

    Bloodsong

    OOC for this
  10. Supercape

    Bloodsong

    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...
  11. 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...
  12. 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...."
  13. 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.
  14. 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.
  15. Sure thing!
  16. 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.
  17. 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!"
  18. 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?"
  19. 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.
  20. 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.
  21. 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?"
  22. Notice Roll: 1d20+8 14
  23. 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.
  24. Lord Steam Lord Steam is an interdimensional ambassador. He originates from, and works for, the English empire of Earth Victoriana. In this dimension, none of the colonies of England fell, making it the dominant world super power (albeit in a world that is pure steampunk in flavour). There are other major colonial powers, such as France and Spain, although they are lesser in strength and scope. Whilst the English Empire has the most military and economic power (by a palpable but not major margin), it is not without enemies. In particular, the Catholic Church (and the Inquisition) are major enemies in the political and psychological domain, as they resent the Church of England. Lord Steam is in hot political water in his home dimension, having wrought the Ire of the powerful Lord Bellowforth (whose daughter became Lord Steam’s little fancy). It was thought best by all (including the Ministry of Extraordinary Affairs) that Lord Steam take an indefinitely long position on Earth Prime (Or Earth Americana, as they call it), to stay out of trouble. Of course, this means he can get into trouble on Earth Prime, Freedom City. The Interdimensional Embassy Steam Manor is located just outside of Freedom City (the North). It has been purchased and financed by the Government of Earth Victoriana, although Lord Steam engineered its architecture to fit the style of his own Manor. It is an antique building with a stately home feels and extensive grounds, where horses graze. A peculiarity of the building is its steam punk feel and the relative paucity of electronics. For instance, the library is full of written and printed tomes rather than large amounts of data stored on computers. The Embassy / Manor is staffed by Earth Prime attendants who like the eccentricity of the place. However, Mr. Charles Blakely is the head butler, a skilled man who also hails from Earth Victoriana. The Duties of the Ambassador Interdimensional embassies are a new thing, and nobody really understand them. Earth Victoriana’s government is at the very least neutral towards the United States and the rest of Earth Prime, and is probably a sort of ally. There is information sharing and mutual assistance in the case of interdimensional threats. The thorny issue of interdimensional extradition still needs diplomacy. It is these matters that Lord Steam (or the Ambassador) needs to navigate. They rarely occur, but they are serious one they do. Hence, the job can be considered largely symbolic (thus affording Lord Steam plenty of free time), with the occasional state function. However, on rare occasions it can become a very tense game indeed. Interdimensional Crime Sleuth Lord Steam is a skilled diplomat. But he is a master inventor and, more pertinently, a master sleuth. Solving crime has always been a major passion; the more challenging the case, the better. In this regard he has thrown himself open as “Consulting detective” on Earth Prime. He has pretty reasonable relationship with Freedom City Police (by and large), who respect his expertise whilst sometimes finding him a bit too arrogant for truly warm relationships. It is fair to say that he gets result, and has dealt with the police fair and square, so for the most part they are amicable. Beyond this relationship, Lord Steam has a particular interest, and perhaps role, in tracking down any criminals from Earth Victoriana whom may have escaped to Earth Prime. This is a rare occurrence – for interdimensional travel is rare at best – but it has happened. And this is where things get tricky. The Extradition agreement between the two dimensions is complicated and fudged. And sometimes not in the government of Earth-Victoriana’s best interest. From time to time, Lord Steam has been called in to navigate this difficulty. He does not enjoy such spycraft, but he does enjoy his easy life with few demands. He has tried to surreptitiously get some feeling wanted men (and women) back to Earth Victoriana with the “Minimum of diplomatic incident”, as he puts it. Bartitsu, the Martial Art of the Gentleman Bartitsu is the favoured martial art of the Earth Victorian Gentleman (and Gentlewoman). It is a fusion of Japanese and European Martial Arts. Lord Steam would not be so bold as to say he was a master of this complex art, but he is certainly an expert. Bartitsu revolves around rapid dangerous punches, slaps and kicks at short range, and using a walking cane in combination to trip, distract or strike assailants. Some fencing moves are used, in particular having emphasis on disarming an opponent quickly. At closer range, Bartitsu teaches joint locks and manipulation, and grappling techniques including chokeholds. It is an effective martial art for any Gentleman (or women). Its unusual form can make it surprisingly effective on Earth Prime.
  25. Reflex Save vs IT IS A MYSTERY: 1d20+8 23
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