Supercape

GM "Help! Help! Oh my saints!" gasped the stranger, inhaling deeply. "I didn't realise how ug--I mean large, you are in person!" he spluttered. "Something attacked me in the Subway...horrible, like an insect. Something terrible! Wants to chew the meat of my bones!" he gasped. "Hurt me too, real bad!" he gasped, the adrenaline wearing of and the reality of blood loss kicking in. He half fainted onto Lobisomen. "Please! You got to stop it! Its probably caught me scent, but even if it hasn't its on a rampage by the subway station!" he gasped.

OOC for This!

January 17th, Evening time Freedom City, somewhere in the Northen parts, or thereabouts or so on... To the door of Lobisomem did come a stranger. Knocking, he came. The stranger was tall, and he was thin. But it was neither his excess of height nor his paucity of girth that defined him, no, it was not. The most striking feature about the stranger was his blood stained clothes. All bloody he was, from his brown shoes, up over his jacket, and even to the congealed blood on his head. "Let me in! Please, I need help!" he banged. "Please!" he banged louder. "There is something out there....coming to get me...." he said, louder still. Desperation powered his fist, and the knocks become some virulent in force, that they did surely threaten to crack bones in hand...

Flintlock "Sorcery! Sorcery! The Yellow King! Ah! Carsonne, the red dusted walls and black rivers! What cold fortunes...what cold fortunes!" mumbled Flintlock, then she bolted straight up, eyes wide like saucers. "By Nero's rosy cheeks, what horror!" she proclaimed, staggering slightly. "I saw something most wicked and cold. A shade, a shadow, who sought the child of our poor victim, although for what purpose I do not know. Whether our victim be the adoptive mother or friend of the child, I could not say either. But one thing I do know is that the shade saw me! Through TIME ITSELF!" she flared up dramatically. And then sat down, shuddering with an inner frost. "I would think that the escaped child, oh! How i hope the child escaped! is our best lead. But wait, we must also learn what manner of shade this is, and why it seeks children? For this surely was not its first act of malice. Detective, what say you? Have their been children in the other crime scenes?"

GM At the sight of Dreadnought, all five men brought up their rifles. "<By Stalin's beard, what is that!>" said one, in Russian. "<Its a troll! A troll! Those Norwegians myths are true!>" whispered another, who was looking very skittish with his rifle. The leader, slightly ahead of the other, kept his rifle high but his blood cool. "We are just protecting the power plant. From Polar Bears. And other things" he replied in English. "Have to be careful out here. There are polar bears, you know. You should be armed" he explained, although he was not exactly friendly. "<Like that giant needs a gun>" hissed one of the men behind him. "Who are you anyway? Never seen a man so big..." asked the leader, in neutral tones. "You sound English? What you doing out here?"

Will Save: 1d20+15 20

Rev "Sure, sure, I agree..." nodded Rev, not knowing what the hell she was talking about, but figuring that nodding your head and agreeing was a good plot whatever the pickle they had landed themselves into. "Never too young to start an honest living! That's what I say. School sucks, anyhow. Drop out, tune up, full speed ahead, that kind of thing" she said, rambling slightly. She thought it sounded cool. And that was the main thing. "If you just wait there a minute, I'll see if I can get you through" she added, giving them a smile and a wink. She turned and walked a little away, out of earshot. "Clocks ticking, pal!" she hissed down the phone to SFX. "Got an car here full of goons and stuff, managed to stall them for a few seconds, but whatever you are doing, you better do it fast!"

GM And so...a trudge through freezing blizzard later... The blizzard was heavy, the air was cold, but it had a crisp clean quality to it that you didn't really get elsewhere. It was little bother for Dreadnought, he ploughed through the snow easily. It was good that there was no iced over lakes; Foreshadow pointed out a few pitfalls on route, and kept the duo on course through very poor visibility. Even with the snow, Dreadnought's footsteps clanged through the air as he walked. There was no muffling them, and in the clear air, the sound travelled far. By Foreshadows estimation there where only a couple of hundred yards from the power plant, with terribly visibility, when they half stumbled across a group of men. Clad in white (for superior camouflage), carrying high tech rifles, with snow goggles and arctic gear. Five of them. "Who goes there?" said the leader, in a Russian accent, repeating his command in Norwegian and Russian.

Activating the thunderous boots of Dreadnought complication: Dreadnought 2 HP Unharmed Foreshadow 1 HP Unharmed

Starshot Extraordinary! Starshot had seen some strange and wonderful beasts in his time, but this was something quite new. What a marvel of evolution. It seemed to pose no clear threat; presumably it was a herbivore, evolved to feed on the blade grass that nobody else could. That said, even herbivores could prove dangerous if threatened. An idea formed in his head. "Laark, Soreen...do you think we could mount that beast and ride it? It would not be easy, but it would make the journey a lot easier!"

Starshot Starshot's finger caressed the trigger of his plasma rifle. Damn, if only this was beast, something I could look in the eye...something simple and pure. I would know its intent...but this...? Twice, he felt himself pull the trigger, only to pull back at the last moment. "I can't shoot" he replied to Bliss, angry with himself. "Not unless we know it's hostile!" He lowered the rifle a fraction of a faction of an inch. "If it makes a move, I'll fire!"

Mr. Murk Mr. Murk sat back, sour in mood. "Lamentably, war is the only thing that will stop war" he grunted. "I like it not, but when the sword is at your throat, you wish you had a shield!" he explained, almost smiling at the words. "I am not a warrior, nor ever will be. It is true that over the many centuries I have inevitably been in a few fights and scrapes..." he began, pointing to the scar running down his face. "And whilst I have never studied or applied myself to the martial disciplines, I have picked up a few things on the way, as one does" "But my...organisation...as you say, would not turn away a sword or a shield, or you, on the basis of having no need for you. In truth, we need nobody for we are not an organisation. I am talking about a code. Perhaps, if you wish, a club, or society. The most one could say about owning it is that I run this building. Manager, you might say" he said, stroking the leather arms of the chair. All in all he was pleased with club Immortus. "You could use several words for this code, from cabal to secret society to social club. I am not sure any truly fit..."

GM "As I understand it, the Stone was probably fractured over a century ago" said Vortex. "Possibly eldritch, possibly not. Something visited the stone. An astral projection? A psychic force? Some interdimensional being? The unspeakable one himself? The origin of the hammer that cause the crack, we can speculate on, and plot. A place called London, 1863. We even have the coordinates pinned down in both time and space. Or so they tell me..." He peered, carefully, at the stone. "As to whom might heal it, we are not sure of that either. And here, we cannot even speculate. It may be that Moonstone itself might have answers, if anybody dared to merge minds with it. Which, given the chance it could fry your brain completely, nobody is keen to do..." "If you want to take the risk, I won't stop you. My feeling however is that you would be best placed to do the detective work. What happened in 1863 in London?"

GM And so...one trans mat transmission of matter later.... It was but a short hop to the chamber of the stone. RIght now, several lunar scientists were studying it with equipment of various degrees of utility and style. They tried very hard to look like they knew what they were doing, but clearly this was a facade. They speculated, and made this and that hypothesis about the readings. But no coherent pattern emerged. The stone itself seemed to shimmer slightly, if one studied it hard. It gave the eyes a strain. "There it is, in all its flawed and horribly dangerous beauty" sighed Vortex Ming, admiring it for a moment. He exchanged a few pleasantries with scientists, so that he could keep abreast of the zero progress. "And we are no further in our understanding. It is cracked in several dimensions, some so small it is debatable if they exist. Its quantum, apparently. And this helps us not at all" he sighed. "We need someone, it seems, he could alter the fabric of reality itself to repair the stone. A tall order, and not one we can meet on this moon...."

The Hound "Woofy! Whats this, is my bacon saved?" pondered the dog in a surprised and grateful (and canine) voice. He jumped around a bit on the car seat, full of nerves, ready to bite his own tail for wagging suspiciously. He thought the scent was familiar, maybe. But he couldn't see anything in the smoke. That stench of blood though...that was always there. He was about to bolt but remembered the shrivelled up body of the Mess in the car. He couldn't leave the Mess there....helpless. Well actually, he could. He needed to distract the two thugs away from the Chevvy. So determined, against his better nature, he jumped out of the car window and started running. "Woof woof! Look at me! I'm a dog!!!!" he proclaimed to the world.

Standard Action: Total Defence Move Action: Move!

GM "What, you think I know where the goddamn power plant is?" said Ztye. "I am an ART-EESTE!" he declared, putting one forearm to his forehead, another to his heart, and turning dramatically. "Not an engineer! My talents are in the every changing mercurial world of transie---" He was interrupted by blaster fire. They group were going down the emergency stairs, all nice and chrome and so on, with a lovely view outside through thick glass wall to wall windows. Outside, it seemed, five of the military drones hovered now, and opened fire. In a flash, glass rained down, covering everybody. Enough for a few scrapes and cuts, but not serious. The fact that the windows had caved in and a few feet away from was a drop of several hundred feet, with wind swirling, and drones hovering, was considerably more dangerous. And the screaming and panic set in to add to the terror!

Bloody Mess Hearing the commotion, The Mess was worried. Harry was a good guy, but he didn't react well to trouble. "I'm a runner, not a fighter!" he would say. Repeatedly. One might actually say he drummed this home every day, trying to get this absolutely true and accurate fact into Freddy's skull. In fairness, even the Mess had got this. Fighting was his job. He focussed down on his super blood, giving it that super charged fizz that made him bubble and wobble all over. It was an extraordinary feeling, the rush of pure vitality and strength. And one he would put to good use. For, with a mighty bound (leaving behind two bloody and tiny footprints), he launched himself into the air...

Harry will boost as a standard action, giving him full strength bonuses, and then leap to the Chevvy as a move action. I'm guessing thats near enough to reach?

The Hound The sweat was like ice, and his heart felt like it would burst from his chest. "Oh sweet Mary mother of Jesus...please....let me live!" he prayed. the Hound was one of those Catholics that never went to church, but wished they did at times like this. He crossed his heart several times at a pace that would impress a super speeding superhero. Still, whilst religious prayer was not be shunned, it wasn't going to boot out other survival instincts, and in such situations, the Hound became incredibly focused on how to stay alive, his senses acute and alive, ready to avoid any fist or boot that might be shoved his way. He quickly pulled the lever on the Chevvy, releasing the emergency smoke canister in the rear. It probably wouldn't help. But it might. And he would take might. And then, in the blink of an eye, Harry was gone, and a mongrol ragged dog was in his place. "Woof woof!" he said in a gutteral growling English. "Please let me get out of this alive! I'm too cowardly to die!"

Harry will take the improved defence action, increasing his dodge by +8, as a standard action Release smoke screen as a move action. Morph as a free action

Rev Rev sat down again, popping open some class book on chemistry she was trying to understand...it had been some time since she had properly studied, and whilst she wasn't stupid, she was finding the process of abstract study rather than practical learning a drag (to say the least). "Now that's something I would like to see!" she said, keenly. "A young man going bare...I mean bare. Did I say bare? I meant bare" she smiled, with a wink. "Just make sure when you get your fur on, give me a heads up, will ya? It sounds brutal! In a good way, brutal!" she added, giving a stare to the imaginary horizon. "Yeah, man, I can see it now..." she imagined, waving her hand over the imaginary landscape. "RRRRAAARRRRGH!" she growled, mimicking a claw with her hand. "If that doesn't scare the brown stuff out of a thugs backside, nothing will! Not that I encourage creeping out of the school to prowl the streets and intimidate street thugs out of there predatory hobbies. But yeah, if you did that, I would want to see it!" she said, full of encouragement that she had just denied having.

Starshot "That's our beast, I bet!" remarked Starshot, slinging off Phalen's blaster rifle and wondering if the weapon could do anything at all faced with the hide of the animal that could trample over bladegrass. "Take cover..." he ordered, pointing them all to one side...no point splitting up now... He lead them to one side, but of course this was not so easy. Blade grass was strong and sharp, and simply blending thought it might mean one was literally blended. And there was Phalen, bound and vexatious. He indicated Laark and Soreen should cut a quick way through, to hide. He would be last, keeping watch. He fingered his last smoke grenade. He would rather not use it, but if something came lumbering....

Initiative: 1d20+3 11