Supercape

Cool! That is enough to awe the audience. As a result the audience (by and large) has no shifted to helpful as a default attitude.

Starshot Not one to turn down opportunity, Starshot slung the blaster rifle over his back to join his own Plasma rifle. It wasn't half the masterwork his own weapon was, but an energy rifle was an an energy rifle, and you never knew when you might need one. "What do you think this is? Some kind of gang? pirates, maybe?" he pondered out loud. He straightened up and grunted. "So we get some dead weight and no answers" he said, losing his cool a moment. He kicked a pile of bones in frustration before regaining composure. It was a hard kick, too. "Laark, can you carry this guy?" he asked the alien crewmember. "At least till he wakes up. Hopefully he has a few answers when he does. If not, going to cut him loose" he explained. "For now, we best try to pick our way to the other side of the cave in, see what we find and hope its not too grim. Shouldn't be far now..." he added, consulting the holo-display.

Starshot "Phalen the Black?" muttered Starshot, holding him down and not skimping on the exertion of his considerable strength. "Phalen! I'm not a beast. Or a beastie!" he shouted. "And I'm not here to hurt you...you need to tell me what's going on!" He grunted a grunt of frustration. "If I wanted to hurt you, you would be hurt...bad...." he whispered into Phalen's ear, a hiss that blended logic and intimidation. He reached for his sedative gun on his utility belt. If the alien wouldn't listen to reason, a couple of shots of Omnised would hopefully do the trick...

Starshot "Easy there..." said Starshot, holding up his cybernetic hand to try and placate the ragged man. Perhaps the strange fellow had lost his marbles, cracked under stress. Whatever, he looked in bad shape. He kept his whip in hand, however. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just had to make sure you didn't hurt me. Heard you singing about melting the brains of anyone you saw with your blaster" he explained. "If you got no quarrel with me, I've got no quarrel with you" he continued, softly. He lowered his whip. Just a couple of inches. "You never know, we might even be able to help each other get out of these caves?" he suggested. "My name is Starshot, this is my crew" he added, pointing at them. "And you are...?" Does he even remember his own name?

Starshot Starshot kept quiet, and kept still, studying what he could. His plasma rifle was charged and ready, his nerves electric with anticipation. He loved this. True, the thrill was more poetic on a wild plain or in an alien jungle. But he still loved it. He flicked his helmet, and opened up the X-Ray scanners. Perhaps the bulkheads where too think, perhaps not. In any case, he would far rather get the drop on whoever was crashing about than they got the drop on him and Bliss....

Red Rat Like that explained anything! Hints, that was all. Not much to go on. Who exactly was playing whom? Her best guess was a bad one, but it felt like artificial intelligence was involved, which made the whole thing complicated. What exactly was intelligence? what motivation? how fixed? how mercurial? The time for philosophy was perhaps later, when explosions and gunfire lessened. For now, she made a dive roll for cover and shouted out... "Stop firing! Stop firing! What the hell is going on here!" It was directed ostensibly at the gun toting agents. But really, it was directed at anybody who could answer.

Initiative: 1d20+10 13

Mr. Murk had rented a stretch limo complete with tinted windows to take him directly to the hospital. It had cost quite a bit, and a favour or two, but he had a very full bank of favours. He was clothed in the murk, appearing as a young gentleman of considerable wealth complete with sunglasses, turtleneck, and flash suit. He had struck up a friendship, of sorts, with the driver, a Miss Daisy Sanchez. "Tell me daisy, what do you see?" he asked politely. The limo was parked outside, motor off. He listened carefully to Daisy's description, nudging her a little, edging her towards poetry and instinct rather than mechanical detail. In his head, he had seen the heat, the ominous gloom that reminded him, a little, or the murk itself. Perhaps he should look at the horrible thing through the murk, although that was an unpleasant notion, even for him. He could almost taste the flies that circled this place. He was a patient man, as could be expected...he stretched his senses, feeling for souls inside.

GM Anton sat back. "It's no con...but I guess that's what a con-man would say" he smiled. "Point taken" He looked nervous, however. "I'd prefer to discuss this outside the offices of MI6, to be honest. I'm sure they would love to put their grubby little fingers into every pot of scandal and gossip, if they could. I know, that was my job back in the day" he offered, rubbing those very fingers in an agitated manner. "You have your super HQ, yes? I can show you maps, details, everything there. Not on any hard drive, I am afraid. I don't touch that stuff. Stories, stories. Uuuuh, there was a cyber hacker back in the day called Mother Board, she frightened the hell out of us. I don't touch computers since!" he said, firmly. He tapped his forehead. "But the old brain still working great! Everything in here!"

Mr. Murk Mr. Murk smiled. "Do not fret, at least not unduly" he said. "I see with my heart, not my eyes". He leaned forward to whisper. "Do as thou must. I am not sure I could contain these fellows, if I need to, at least not with my fists or strength. But with words, perhaps" he explained. "And I dare say that words and passion will be the war on this day, more so that axes and spears". He leaned back again. "The food smells most wonderful. I look forward to tasting it. For me, I have the palate for old world wine, ah! yes, the south bank grape, fermented, rich, complex and old" he mused, the addressing Gorth. "Have you tasted such marvels? better than ale. Like earth and fruit on your tongue all at once!" "*Perhaps you speak French?*" he asked Queenie, hoping there might be a suitably cryptic language that they could converse in free from understanding ears. Well, she was a cook...

Starshot As silent as a mimetic mouse from Tiberius-K, Starshot was. Or the man was drunk. Probably both. Cave's weren't his terrain, by Starshot knew how to move quietly. He didn't recognise the woman / man / other. But he was perturbed by the song. "Smells nice" he said, softly, whip at the ready. "Ah...ah...ah!" he added, forcefully. "I may be moving, but shoot me" he shot out, forcefully. "I'm not hear to hurt you, but don't think I won't cook the meat of your bones if you even think about shooting..."

Standing behind the man, preparing a whip-based disarm action if he points the blaster at Starshot. Feel free to roll that (with +2 on disarm check from whip) it comes up.

Stealth Singer Near: 1d20+14 18 for near stealthing

Starshot Starshot quickly signalled for silence and cover. What the hell was this? Whatever, or whomever, it was, it was clearly ready to shoot anything that moved. With a gun, it seemed. He motioned for everyone to stay put, then, slowly he crept forward, crouching carefully. He would have loved a plasma pack right now, but needs must. He had his whip in hand. A couple of thermal pellets in his jacket...really useful for lighting fires, thermal pellets, but he could throw them in an emergency. But stealth was his best weapon now. With a bit of luck, the singer was drunk rather than hostile. He needed eyes on him - or her. His Helmet started pinging through the EM spectrum...

Stealth roll sneaking up on singer: 1d20+14 22

"Huh, you are ok, Zhu. More than ok. Don't forget it. You have a big heart with that big brain of yours!" she said, tapping Zhu's cranium in a friendly way. "And compare to the bully in a tutu back at the breakfast, you seem to do just fine with people" she added, encouraging, although she was still smarting and disgusted. She took a quick look around the chemistry lab. "Anyway, we better clean this mess up, and get going. I don't mind taking a few risks, but, you know, lets not push it too far!" she chuckled. "And if any one asks, we were studying something. Errr....Siberian weather systems, or something. That would fly, right?"

GM "The Knights of Meddy Evil?" sighed Quotsa, sitting down and picking up some nuts to chew on. They looked fairly mundane nuts, at least compared to the rest of the shop. "Chopper, he's the leader. And he chops..." he answered trying to sound cryptic and wise, and half - succeeding. He mimed a head getting chopped off. "He pretty much runs this town. Law hardly comes here, and they don't get nowhere when they do. This is wild west" he said with a shrug. But he was concerned all the same. "Month ago, they started getting wilder, got some guru to lead them, some old guy. Not sure who is running the show now, Chopper or his guru. But they are messed up, big time. Like they need drugs, or something. Now, Chopper don't deal with drugs, least not normally. He stuck to guns and swords. But now they do. Stepping on the toes of Latin Ink down south of the border. Its gonna be blood..." he said, grim.

Rev "Lets go for it...!" said Rev, boldly. She contemplated an arm, but as Zhu had said, this could go wrong. She didn't want to go around explaining a bubbling pink arm with mushrooms on it. She pulled down her pants as modestly as she could, and put forth a steel leg. She wasn't a girl to hesitate, normally, but this was a challenge for her. She took a deep breath and smashed the ball on her leg. The contents bubbled and hissed, and quickly, like a spreading ooze, flowed onto the contours and grooves of her leg. It was quick, maybe twenty seconds, and she had a leg. Of sorts. "That's pretty good!" she said, admiring her leg. As the metal had formed to the shape of muscles and bones, the gel had too, and it looked like a smooth, fairly muscular leg. She gave it a stretch and extention, and it was elastic enough to follow the movement. "Looks great, in fact!" she decided, quite happy. "I mean, nobody would notice! Unless they had a microscope or magnifying glass" she added, pressing the gel. "It looks a little odd when you press it. And the muscles are there in shape but they don't flex quite right...but yeah...I mean..." She punched the air with both fists. "Victory!!!!!" she yelled, and gave a double high five to Zhu.

Rev "I'm awesome" said Rev, pumping her fist. "But not beautiful. At least, I don't feel beautiful. Just odd. And awesome. I don't know what I think..." she gabbled, not understanding herself. "But in any case, what I really want is to walk down a mall without everyone staring at me. I don't mind attention. I just don't want it all the time!" she explained. It was not that she was bitter. More that she was keen. She watched Zhu work carefully. "I'm not sure I can help, but let me know if I can" she explained. One finger came up and a blue torch-flame spurted out, a couple of inches, very hot. "I can be a pretty cool Bunsen Burner, if you need it!"

Starshot Halfway across, Starshot had contemplated harvesting some rations from the giant mushrooms. He decided that it was not worth the risk. They could be poisonous, deadly, or worse. He remembered the night he had spent hallucinating after a ill fated meal on Lo-Sirius-D. He paused for a moment to check everyone was alive, well, and take stock of food, water, and situation. They had spent some time marching; if they did reach the other side of the rockfall, the survivors could well have moved on. Irrespective of the odds, he felt he had to try. "Every body ready?" he asked, retying his boots. "Lets get this done, then!" He flicked up the computer cave map on HUD and spun the hologram, plotting out the the best route - or most likely route. At this point, the shortest route.

GM "I have information. For you, specifically for you" said Anton. "Look, I was a member of the KGB. I did things, I'm not proud of them, for the most part. After the USSR fell, I had to move to the independent sector, you see?" he said, opening his hands earnestly. "I won't lie to you, at this stage of my life, no pension, I'm trying to make enough money to retire. And I deal in information. I told the UK, the MI6, that I'm Ex-KGB. Told them enough information to get me to you" he explained. "Now, I come to you to sell you information, too. I'm not asking for much. Maybe twenty five thousand?" he asked, hopefully. "I know, I know, you won't agree until you hear what I say. I know how this works. But I've done my homework, you aren't broke, that's for sure. And you honour your deals. So I know at least a bit about you, you know nothing about me. So..." He shrugged, taking a gamble. "I know where your grandfather is. I know what he can do, and I know what he is doing. And to be honest, I think you should stop him..." he explained. "Only trouble is, well, he lives on Svalbard, an old mine. Sensitive area, you see? Its Norwegian, at least technically, but lots of Russians there. Not an easy place to operate in. Cold as a witch, and you can't just dance in and say you are a member of Vanguard. At least, not with UK-Russian relationships the way they are..."

GM "I can tell you what I know now" said Mr. Murk, stony faced. "Nothing..." "Not all my contacts, not all my visions. Not any subtle inquiry or blunt intimidation" he explained. "All I can tell you is this, someone has come to see Foreshadow, and that someone - or someone connected to him is blocking my visions of the future. Completely...." he complained, not used to being blinded in this matter. "I am afraid I am of no further use. Foreshadow has something to deal with and I think you should help him. He may resist at first, but I would press him. I would imagine he is as blind as I am, now..." he explained, his milky opaque eyes shining in the dim light of the cellar of slumber. "The only further answer would be most dangerous..." he added, quietly, indicating the ten slumbering future selves of Dreadnought, who might be able to answer what had happened in the past. The sleeping giants breathed so slowly one could barely notice. They glinted in the pale light, but only the most perceptive would note they were alive at all. Observing them, Dreadnought had an itch, a premonition. It might be possible to wake them...but, be it from the effects of time travel, or the sorcery that pefused them in the sleep, he had the scratching sensation that it might cost him his sanity to do so...

Starshot "Plenty more where that came from..." That had two meanings. He was ready to crack the whip again. But there was probably more than one fish in the sea, so to speak. "Stay sharp...not at the shore yet" he said, keeping frosty, and demanding everyone else did. "Don't quicken the pace. Nice and steady. Nice and steady. Eyes open...." he said, keeping his hand low. If they rushed this in a frenzy of desperation, it could attract more fish. "Lets get there in one piece...ja?"

Starshot "It's hungry!" said Starshot, steadying himself on the ship, and hopefully steadying the ship too. "I just hope it only likes mushrooms. But I doubt it...meat is meat..." he said, grimly. He took out his whip...too late, the massive fish was down in the depths again. But if it surfaced. "Keep your eyes peeled and your weapons ready. It's not finished its meal yet. When you see it...blast it!" he ordered, emphatically. For himself, he kept his whip ready and his eyes open, waiting for any tell tale ripples, waiting for any massive jaws...

Starshot will ready a standard action: Whip attack, if the fish surfaces again. Feel free to roll that attack, I wont use HP to reroll, and it will be unshifted. +12 Attack, +8 Damage. Hopefully the 15' Whip range will reach wherever it surfaces!