Supercape

I don't know how this fits in with initiative etc, but if Starshot gets a good early sight of the beast (and he is without helmet for this), he will prepare an action to throw a spear as soon as in range, and then depending on ranges etc, combat?

Starshot Starshot smiled at Soreens comment. "Fight with what you will, my code is my own and not for me to enforce on you. It will probably kill me one day, but make it more beautiful to live whilst I do..." With that he hefted a spear in his right hand, whilst his left clutched two more in reserve. The Quickdeath was fast, and armoured, which was not good. The spear might shatter or break on its plates. But there was no time for regret, just the cold focus of adrenaline that flooded his body with excitement. "Here it comes...here it comes....split when it does! And remember the eyes! remember the eyes!!!" Soreen and Laark had been, of course, kept fully up to speed with the advice of the Ul-Mor and the use of the dummies. Split and decoy, decoy and split. But for now, first strike...as soon as the beast was in range, he launched a spear, straight at the beast, and quickly moved, fast and agile, like a panther, to behind one of the dummies. The eyes...the eyes...he whispered to himself, keeping his gaze locked...

GM "Ho ho" chuckled Anton. "I know my limits. I'm a spook. A good one, but not a great one. And I'm in a room with the Vanguard" he shrugged. "You don't have to, and you probably, shouldn't trust me. But at least don't think I'm lying by default" he said, simply. "Me, on the other hand, I have a fair guess at trusting you. And even if i didn't, I kind of have to. So leave the trusting to me, and if you want to jump on board the trust train, or jump of it, that's your call..." He paused to gather his thoughts for a moment. "Its about your Grandfather" he said to Foreshadow. "Dmitri Russov. I know the name, and a bit about him. Got involved in the KGB. Back in the day, they were trying to get super heroes, like the USA. Pretty desperate. You heard of Darwin-X? developed by a man called Doctor Zero, a way of getting super powers. Except it was more like a viral weapon as it turned out. Didn't get many successes..." he trailed off, rubbing his forehead with unpleasant recollections. "But they got a few. Like Dimitri..." "Anyway, the old man is still alive, runs some energy company. Using dangerous technology. Fossil fuels, running out, and thus so his is company. He is looking to some very dangerous methods. Bioelectrical energy. And guess what he is using for that? Trying to get cells to pump out energy. Guess what he is using to mutate the cells?" he asked, rhetorically. "Darwin-X. Dangerous. God knows what he's up to, and God probably doesn't want to know if he did" he said, frowning. "He's operating in Svalgard, the arctic circle. Got himself a little power plant there, run down, barely working, but a great cover to experiment with" He looked at them both. "Anyway, that's where he is. There's some answers there. And some danger. I'm not just talking about his little private army, either. Anyone playing with Darwin-X is a real danger. And the real problem; its tense on Svalgard. Its under Norwegian control, but plenty of Russians there. And when it gets to energy production, politics is an issue...so this isn't a door with a simple key...."

Initiative: 1d20+10 16

Rev "Why do you think I don't wear skirts?" chuckled Rev putting SFX down carefully. All in all, Zhu had managed the flight pretty well, by her estimation. As for her, her pants were intact. The gel had burned off her feet, leaving them metal and shiny. "And why do you think I put my sneakers in my backpack?" she asked with a smile. "So what are we meant to do? Stop the train?" she asked. Might be easier said than done...Rev could bench press a car. Stopping a moving train was another matter. "That would block off the armoured truck, I guess. But sounds a bit risky to me" she said. "I guess we have to try something else" She tapped her metal toes. "Do we have any idea what this truck is? We aren't robbing the bank or anything, are we?

Starshot Starshot would certainly not turn down the offer of a spear against a quadraped. A useful and simple weapon, held, braced, or thrown. Using Phalens Blaster rifle was certainly a thought, too. Getting the first shot in appealed. But no, damn that. This was a primitive culture and a noble one. No energy weapons. Just muscle, sinew, and spear. That was the only way. Starshot discarded his belt and rifles. This would be done the right way. He took a couple of spears, and some dummies and nodded. "I am ready"

Synth A fisherman, thought Synth, was as good a disguise as anybody. He could grow a big bushy beard. Stealing clothes from Freedom City seemed to be familiar to him now. He didn't like breaking the law, but it was better than the law breaking him. He had no wish to be captured. He scuttled towards the fishing store on the pier, and took a look inside. There would surely be some jumpers and so on? Breaking and entering was not really in his skill set. Unless, of course, there was an air vent or chimney he could squeeze through. The alternative was a quick smash and grab, although surely the store would be alarmed!

Initiative Rolls vs Undead: 1d20+3 13

Starshot It was nice to be back in the saddle and give his boots a rest. Even he got blisters. His mood slightly improved, enjoying the open skies again. True, Phalen's babbling and escaping did not please him much, but neither did he feel vexed. A small - or perhaps more than small - part of him enjoyed the primitive oneness with nature, free from plasma rifles and warp drives. He paid due attention, silently, to the quickdeath and the tactics against it. Momentary blindness. He would bear that in mind, and keep it carefully considered. Fearsome as the quickdeath sounded, the prospect of such a hunt was gnawing at him. An excitement, a list. Until then, he kept the crew fed and watered, and as healthy as he could manage with his medical expertise and supplies. Not the time to get an infection or disease of one form or another. But this was a waiting game until they arrived, a time to focus and recuperate, mind locked on the task ahead, keen to learn what he could. And with that in mind he spent the remainder of the journey a student, asking the Ul-Mor as much as he could, or dared, about the quickdeath...

Mr. Murk Mr. Murk's smiled kind of solidified on his face. He was not just a pleasant wise old man. He was an immortal sorcecrer who had lived longer than any of them and whilst he kept the Murk under shadow, never showing his hand, it did not mean he held no cards. "I keep secrets. You keep secrets. Sometimes we lie, sometimes we bend, sometimes we omit. The greatest secret is from telling the wrong truth" he explained, carefully. "Of course I keep my secrets, sir. And of course you keep yours. The question is, can you trust me?" He stood up, firmly. "You can trust me to help you find your wizard. You can trust me to help you stop him. But you cannot trust me to kill him. I will prevent you, barring the most awful of circumstances. And so will us all. Now, I have told you when, and what circumstances, you can trust me. Perhaps you can tell me when, and under what circumstances we can trust you..."

Rev "Hold on to yer hat, Dorothy, cos' Kansas is going bye bye!" Rev took a good grip on SFX with one arm. Dropping her would not be a good idea, but her grip was as firm as steel. Without the Gelskin, it would have been pretty uncomortable, but now there was at least a veneer of squish. Rev theatrically stuck one arm out in the air. "JET! SET! GOOOOO!" Her bare feet exploded with furious jet, instantly burning off the gel skin. Rev pulled some serious G as the pair rocketed off the floor and into the sky. Even taking a slow parabola into the air, navigation, and landing... Under ten seconds later... Rev landed carefully, jets dying down when they hit the ground. "Awesome!" she concluded.

Starshot Starshot did not feel sympathy. He had seen soldiers and men crack, of course, but he had seen plenty hold it together. Phalen was the former, Starshot was the latter. "Useless" he grunted, taking his boot off the alien. "Should have left him in the caves rather than cart him around. He's dead weight" he said, brutality kicking in. This was the brutality of the land kicking in. "Guess we have another mouth to feed and water then". He respected Soreen's sympathy but right now he didn't feel it. Pharen was a burden who couldn't pull himself together to help, even a little bit. But even if he didn't feel sympathy, he had a code. They had to look after him now. Damn! On board the Xeno, Starshot would have been a lot more sympathetic. Crashed on an alien landscape with danger everywhere, his sympathies evaporated under the doctrine of survival. It put him in a bad mood, though. He didn't like the situation, or his response to it. "Lets go then, get this trial of warriors done with. I want to get off this rock!"

Rev Rev kicked off her sneakers and stuffed them in her bag. Her bare feet were covered in SFX's gel-skin, but that wasn't going to last very long. "Yes, we should" she answered, cracking her knuckles. They gave a little ting! when cracked. It was a habit she had got into before racing. She kind of liked the metallic clink when she did it now. "But if someone need's rescuing, we should get there as soon as possible. And we ain't going to walk!" she said, a big grin on her face. "We are going to fly!" She stepped out of the shop with SFX, looked to the sky. "You don't mind a lift, do you? I can carry you easily. I'll go easy on the G's, its a bit shocking the first time. I can get us there in under a minute, give us time to play. Just...don't look down!" "Are you ready?" she asked.

Flintlock is proposing (IC) using ritual thusly: Super Senses 4 (Precognition, Limited: Unreliable [GM]) [2 PP] I am adding in the unreliable limitation so that GM can drop enough hints and clues to propel the thread on, but whatever cool obscuring of the past you want HGM, then its there (i.e. enough to know what to do next, but not if that's the right thing!). Let me know if thats reasonable or not. If the cop and Sensus don't object (or have a better idea), then that would mean: Design of Ritual DC 12, Eight hours! work. Halving the design time to four hours increases in to DC 17, which Flintlock can automatically make. The ritual itself takes a mere 20 minutes. Its DC 17 so again can be automatically made.

Flintlock Flintlock mulled over the mystery. 'Twas a perplexing one! "A sadness, a horror" she started, for the tragedy of the story must not be forgot in the effort to unpick it. She felt some tears, and did not hold them back. "Whatever force, be it mundane or eldritch, cause this, it must be stopped!" she then determined, slamming fist into palm. "Good ladies, if you will permit, I would perform some sorcery!" she declared flamboyantly. "To peel back the web of time, spin back the clock. See what happened, see our murderer! Yes, with the right incantations and rituals, can be done, although 'tis taxing, to be sure. It can fray your nerves, a little. I would suggest some rum, just to take the edge off!" she suggested, hopefully. "And it takes some preparation. A few hours, perhaps, if I do it correctly. And then, we can see exactly what happened here!"

Rev "What?" asked Rev, quite surprised. "I just...heard static?" she explained. "I thought you had fizzed the electricals, or something" "I didn't hear any voice. What was it?" she asked, looking around to see if anybody else had done so. The shop looked pretty mundane. No exploding penguins or electric robo-clowns. "Someone trying to tell you something? Sounds all a bit spooky. Enough to get you paranoid!" she shuddered, taking a look around the shop again to double check for clowns or penguins. Or possibly penguin clowns. "What did they say? Nothing's going to explode, is it?"

GM And so! Inside the Haven.... Anton made himself comfortable. Or less uncomfortable. He wasn't a ball of nerves, but on the other hand, this was an ex spook dealing with sensitive information. Relax wasn't on the menu either. He contented himself with coffee, black. "Are you sure you want the giant listening?" he asked Foreshadow, before his instincts started kicking in. The instinct to ask questions. "Some coincidence you just walked down the street, huh? Where have you been? What have you been doing?" he asked casually, albeit that kind of velvety fist style. He truly wanted answers. "What brings you to Vanguard's headquarters today? At this precise time? Meeting Foreshadow, hmmm? Had you planned a nice take out meal and watching some reruns of Black Adder?" he asked, with that penetrating inquisitive nature. Whatever else, Anton had been pretty good at his job. Probably still was. His questions were largely directed at Dreadnought but he made it clear, via glances, that Foreshadow was also free to chime in.

GM And so...outside the HAVEN... As fate would have it, persons collided. Those persons being Anton and Foreshadow meeting the trudging form of Dreadnought, whose lumbering booming steps could be heard for miles. Ah, one had to pity the poor streets of London being subject to such force. "Who the hell is that?" mumbled Anton, on the steps. "Wait! That's Dreadnought!" he concluded quickly as the shock wore off. "The giant! The giant giant!" Lamentably, Dreadnought always (even in London) drew a crowd of people photographing him as he had become something of a tourist attraction, like the guards outside Buckingham Palace. He left a wake of people behind and in front who wanted to take their photograph with him. "At least he distracts everybody" offered Anton, although he was not comfortable with crowds.

Perpedincular to the line between the plebs and current place, I guess.

Notice Checks for the stuff being stuff and stuff.: 2#1d20+9 25 10

Starshot "Red devils? Burning sands?" Starshot felt his sympathy for the alien dribble away. He put his boot on the alien's chest and pressed. Not hard to crack ribs, but hard enough to let the alien unambigiously know that he could. "Listen, friend. You have a choice. Me and my crew, we could help you get off this planet. That road means you stop jabbering, and start talking. Tell us your story" he said, firm as Zuthan Lightsteel. "Because me and my crew, we are under an alien sky, under an alien sun. We marched through dust, deserts, and caves. And let me tell you, very clearly, that my patience is fried. I haven't got time for an alien that jabbers and shoots at me. I could make your life very very painful, and very very short. Now, that's a road you can also choose. You can choose to not help me. That would make me upset. If you knew me, you wouldn't want to make me upset. Not out here..."

GM Vortex Ming entered as smoothly and calmly as he could. He was pretty good and being smooth and calm, what with his position, but this was extraordinary circumstance. He turned his odd coloured eyes to Red Moon, speaking like heavy silk. "You recall, I am sure, your contact with the Moonstone and the replica you made" he started. "And some of the readings. Well, anomalies, yes?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "We have been suspicious, although this is beyond top secret, that some anomaly with the Moonstone was inserted around a hundred years ago. Perhaps further. Less than quantum, initially. Psychic, probably. But growing, like a virus. It is quite possible that your interference might have accelerated the growth, although at that time, it was extremely small in nature. Possibly so small that it did not exist. Or did" He shrugged. "I'm a keeper of secrets, not a quantum scientist" he explained, apologetically. "In any case, the anomaly has now developed to a measurable state. And the growth is beyond expodential. If left, its effects could be quite cantastropic. Whatever psychic virus is with in could change dimensional reality locally. Or something like that..." He paused. "We need you to fix it...."

Mr. Murk Mr. Murk, sensing the spirits of Salvo and Emerald Spider, stepped out of the shaded Limo, still wrapped in the murk, appearing as young wealthy man in sunglasses. "Good evening" he said, bowing moderately. The murk melted away, and there he stood. Bowler hat, tweed suit, blind eyes. Homo Nandethalensis! "My name is Mr. Murk. Erasmus Murk. I have seen this hospital draped in ruin, despair, and flame. And you, my friends, have come to save it, I am thinking?" he asked politely with his broad jaw in a broad grin. "I would offer my humble assistance, if you would have it?" he asked.

Starshot Thanks for you hospitality and friendship replied Starshot. We shall rest and meditate, under stars and sun, and look forward to the ceremony! That was that. Just some worn boots and a depleted plasma pack to show for it. And Phalen. Who was he? The Omni-sed should be wearing off soon, by his estimation. At least, enough for consciousness, even is he would be pretty drugged for another few hours. He walked over to the alien and tapped him with his boot, this time making sure that Laark was ready. "Wake up, my friend! Time for some questions. Like who are you and where do you come from? And what were you doing down that hole?"

Synth The cold did not bother Synth. As long as he energy to burn, he had no problem. He could swim without issue, too. No, the challenge was not the terrain it was the search, which was surely inevitable. Shaking himself at least partially dry, he considered his options. His priority was making sure SHADOW did not get their hands on him. And even Blackstone was not safe from SHADOW. He needed to get off the radar. Completely off it. He had run through this scenario several times mulling the possibilities. He had come to no firm conclusions. Now, something crystalised. Alaska! Cold and clear. A crisp beauty. Off the radar. Now, just to get there. A new set of clothes, a new identity, and travel. Hitch hiking, maybe. But first, new clothes. Mundane and unremarkable...he looked around for a suitable crime scene. Theft was the answer!