Supercape

Starshot Starshot gave a tap on the exterior door, and flipped his helmet onto X-Ray mode, scanning for - well, whatever - behind the bulkead door. He didn't want to be greeted by a pack of Goldspire Mercenaries armed Bushwhacker-five blasters. "Powers done. Should have guessed. I wonder how old this thing is?" he pondered. Was it sabotage? Damage? Accident? Or was this thing an ancient relic who hadn't seen power in years? "I'd prefer not to cut an Airlock open" he said to Bliss "perhaps we can trickle some power in from the Xeno?" he said, inviting Bliss's thoughts. "I'm no mechanic. Dugga isn't either, really, but he can at least hold a quad-spanner without dropping it..."

The Red Rat Noemi clonked the side of her head with her fist. So much for Superior Soviet Technology! Frankly, if she had some peace from SLAVE it would be a fine Christmas gift. But this looked ominous, for not only had the irritating system shut down, it was giving her eyes a vexatious stream of data. She took a deep breath and tried to focus. Handshake protocol? What the hell was that? She pulled over the cab, a little roughly, and pulled out the radio. "Charley, Charley?" she asked the big mouthed but nice operator of Easy Steves Cabs, Charley "Talks" Chalks. "Is Easy Steve there? I gotta take a sick..." she sighed. Easy Steve wouldn't take "Stone cold dead" for an excuse when it came to his drivers. But Noemi needed to get this sorted before something horrible happened. Which it probably would, anyway. If she could get to the Bedlam Safe House, she could see if the computer there could perform some analysis or something. It might well be beyond her. In which case (she groaned) she might have to mutate into the big headed (in more ways that one) hyper evolved Brain-Rat (aka "Red Head")

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Mr Murk Mr Murk was an astute fellow, and could see through most lies (even the ones the teller believed); when somebody barely made effort to conceal his true feelings, there was a clear understanding. He wondered - Frost may have some loyalties to the Soviet Union, and not without reason (for in his long experience the imposition of communism was a goodly step up from the tyranny of monarchy but lamentably a goodly step down from democracy). But Frost was astute enough to see the failings of the Soviet Union too - its biggest failing, thought Murk, was its inability to recognise its failings. "You have?" he answered - concerned. He, for himself, did not believe in eternal suffering. "But no crime or demeanour is infinite, surely?" he asked, keen to understand Frost. "And would it not follow that no suffering should be infinite either?" he asked. "I do not say that the immortal is morally superior. If anything, quite the reverse. My concern is, however, that they are vulnerable. In a unique position to have inhumane treatment imposed on them" he explained, kindly. "What if the Soviet Union, for instance, erroneously decided that your loyalty was lacking, and decided to inflict their worst punishments on you? For the mortal, there is at least the solace that the punishment will be finite" he said, by way of example. "Incarceration, of course, I would be in full agreement with. Some Immortals are not safe for society".

Starshot "A wise precaution" noted Starshot as we watched Bliss adjust the E-suit. Being caught in space was not much fun, even with his cybernetic enhancements. He threw off his old beaten jacket and put on one of the Xeno's space suits, just to be sure. After all, even if they entered the station there was every possibility of it losing atmosphere. He shuddered at the thought. "Damn space. Its for travelling through, not dancing about in" he muttered as he sealed up the space suit. It did not afford the protection of his old jacket, laced with PlastiK strips. And whilst it was pretty slick, he still felt it didn't have that antique style of his jacket. But he could live with that trade off; his blood would not boil. He pinged on his own helmet, however, and tested the comm system. If need be, Gunmonkey would be on the Xeno, ready for a fast getaway.

GM "Wow! You are really letting us go?" blabbed Snowbird. "I mean...I mean....damn right! of course you are letting us go. It's the darn gosh darn it right thing to do! Good on you, pals!" she blustered in full rewind. She stood up and dusted off her cape, still bruised and battered but at least able to stand. "I'll just pick up my pal here..." she said, looking at Bird of Arms and Spitfire and not quite believing her luck. Seeing no objection, she easily scooped up Flare and hauled her over her soldier. "And I'll be off before the cops ask questions and you know, arrest us and stuff. You are both darlings!" she added, blowing them both kisses and giving a wink to Bird of Arms. "You know, seriously, if you ever need our help, we will repay it. We may run high tech weaponry to gangs and stuff, but, you know, if you look past that, we are good guys, like really!" she added. "Ill post some Curveball Cannons to you all as way of thanks!" she said as she walked out... ~ Fin ~ But continued in...

GM The Fire brigade were arriving on the scene - although scratching their heads as they did so. It was nay impossible for the pipes and pumps to stretch from their engines to the fires around them. True, they were self limiting - but a loyal Englishman would do all he could to protect the rare and splendid flora of Kew Gardens! "Quite the mess, Gentlemen! Quite the mess!" offered the Captain, taking off his helmet and scratching his thinning scalp. "I dare say the good Doctor Armitage will have a word or two to say when he comes round. Best get him to an infirmary, I should imagine!" he concluded, ordering two privates to bundle him into a police carriage off to the nearest hospital. "If that is all, Sir, I think we best be on our way...I could do with a little medical attention myself" said the clammy Mr Fiddle, clutching his arm. "Of course, Sirs...quite understandable. I best be taking your names and details, however, for H'administrative and H'invetigative purposes" said the Sergeant, pulling out a notepad, pencil, and licking - quite redundantly - his finger. He proceeded to take notes on Mr. Murk and Mr. Fiddle, before turning to Dreadnought... "And you Sir? Name, occupation, date of birth...and where are you residing?"

GM The brave and noble police force of London, who were in no way, shape or form, corrupt oafs dragged of the street and chosen for their plentiful brawn and paucity of wit, arrived. "Cor blimey! What going on here!" said the first to arrive, a fit whip like man. The more rotund sarge came not soon after, huffing and puffing. "Make way, make way. Police! Pol---good God almighty, its the Norwegian troll! I never seen a man so big, no Sir, I have not!" he gasped, eyes popping out of his skull. Same eyes did, however, glance at the prostate form of Armitage. "What the devil's going on? Blazing bonfires and the like, they say..." he gazed around the smoking trees of Kew. "Quite the business! What happened to the doctor, here? Gods know we could use one right now!" he finished. Mr Fiddler grunted, the pain getting to him, his lips and tongue now ossified with the stinging.

Synth [As grunt] The view of the sky, and of the birds, was enough to cause a wet swell in his eyes, and a burst of energy to his heart. Damn SHADOW! Damn Blackstone! Damn AEGIS! I will be free of them all! He concentrated and let his muscles swell down, becoming lose and elastic. In this shape, squeezing through the gap was as a simple as spreading butter on toast - he virtually melted through the tiny gap with barely a pause. If I get out of this, I'm going to meet up with Breakfast and have the biggest, greasiest fry up I can get him to pay for, and sit by the sea watching the birds. Maybe throw them some bacon and chips... Simple things, so out of reach. But he was going to do his best to reach for them...

GM There was the peeping sound of blown whistles in the background. The fire brigade, maybe. Or the police. Likely both. "Irrespective of philosophy and morals, which I am sure Mr. Murk can lecture you on if you can stand his droning, these must take second place to the matter at hand. Namely, what to do with this odious reptile" said Mr. Fiddle, wincing as he clutched his arm and poking - perhaps a bit more hard than necessary - Armitage in the ribs. "He is a dangerous affront to nature, I am sure, but he has broken no laws, or at least ones we can prove. He is wealthy, connected and astute enough to dance through any legal process we might throw at him. At best, we can vex him with the law, but no more than that. And, to be honest, he is not a man easily vexed" "If I had a gun, I would contemplate putting a bullet in his infernal skull, but I confess I would do no more than contemplate it. Yet, we are in a lamentable position. What to do???"

GM "That sounds..." started Licky Spit, as Milk gave Wayward a lustful look with her pig eyes. "Dynawesome!" yelled Zyte, punching his fist in the air. "And you hit em out with your own make up, Wayward! I suggest half your face in green, half your face in purple, and a yellow fist on your forehead! What a clash! A juxtaposition just like this movie! I mean...just like your concert!" he added. He slinked up to Wayward, moving on greased trainers. "Now then. You are obviously an artiste! am I right or am I not wrong? Don't answer that---I'm both!" he smiled at her. "So what do you think about the filming arrangements? You got your drones, yah? I got mine own, too. Top of the techno-geek range!" he said, pointing out a distant flying insect that was filming perfectly, despite the blustering winds at this height. "You ok for me to use them? Hey, Ill give you them after the show! Like an awesome gift for an awesome LADY!" he said, thumb up with one hand, camera in the other. "Or I can upgrade your own!"

GM Mr Ebeneezer Fiddle (Followed, more slowly - for obvious reasons - by Mr. Murk) came running up. The place was essentially empty now. Everyone had run. Ebeneezer was pale, clammy, and clutching his burnt arm. He groaned a little in pain. "Darn this! It's morphine for me, my friend" he grunted, looking at the flesh. "Hope I don't get an infection. I'm not doctor but this will give me a scar to remember the evening by, I should imagine. Oh curses, the pain! I shall have to get an ointment from Cressida Poppylocks" he sighed. He prodded Doctor Armitage with his foot. "And the only doctor he, you knocked out" he said with an ironic groan. "Not that I am complaining, of course. And I certainly didn't see you knock him out. Because that, Sir, might be construed as against the law, even if morally justified!"

GM The lead pipe weighed over a tonne. To even lift it was an inhuman feat. To throw it across Kew Gardens was beyond comprehension, even for Norwegian trolls. The sound as it hit the Thames was almost deafening. There would be a lot of wet people on either bank from the explosion of displaced water. "That...is going to cause problems" said Armitage, looking straight at Dreadnought. "Whilst I must confess I am shocked at your strength, and more than that, interested..." he said, stroking his beard. "The thing is no longer under my control" he explained. "I hope it drowns, for I would not want it to be set loose to plague the city..." He neither approached Dreadnought nor shied from him. "You are a man of action, after all. Not some passive fool. But I wonder if you point that strength in the wrong direction. For, all said and done, Lord Rhodes publicly revealed himself for what he is; a coward and a cad. And the wedding will be called off. A few burns. A few scars. But Ms. Longfield is free. Even her odious family would not press her into marriage now..."

Ronin "Well ain't you all shiny, Mr. Sunshine!" yelled out Ronin to the metal shod man. I damn well hope I ain't shooting at some actors in a Shakespeare production, or sumthin!!! he thought, worried at the prospect. But now, Shakespearian actors would be complaining about being shot at, surely. Nobody was that method. I hope! "Me, I'm all about lead" he added, flicking a switch on Katana. Sure, the shot would sting, but it wouldn't kill. He wasn't gonna pump lead into nobody. But it wouldn't hurt to let them think he was. And it wouldn't hurt for it to sting a bit. Won't be hurting me for it to sting a bit, anyways... With that bold thought in mind, he let lose a puff of wind and a blast of lead, intent on punching the man through a lovely stain glass window. If only real life had slow-mo....

So sorry for the delay: I missed I was up. Switching shot to Divine wind, then firing. Keeping up partial cover from the Church. Divine Wind Attack: 1d20+12 22 If that hits (guess so?) Its a Damage 4 / DC 19 Tough save and a Trip 4 effect: Divine Wind power check: 1d20+6 22 for the opposed trip roll (including improved throw +2 bonus). That will be vs worst of Acrobatics [untrained] or STR (due to Improved trip feat). Also has knockback extra on the trip 4.

GM The flames once again licked at Dreadnoughts feet. It was quite a spectacular show, really. Better than fireworks. It was just that most people had fled and dared not look back. Mr. Murk seemed the only calm one, nodding quietly, but concern on his face. And Armitage of course, lost in a mumbling trance gazing at the fire. As Dreadnoight scooped it up and twisted the metal, there was a most dreadful hissing noise, like a burning cobra. But the terrible thing from beyond was caught in the pipe like a giant otherworldly flaming demon in a piping hot pipe. Which was exactly what it was. And the pipe was indeed most hot, and getting hotter by the moment. Enough to singe any hand but Dreadnoughts, and if it progressed, then either it would threaten to burn him, or the pipe would melt...

That works fine, and hits. So I will give it a reflex save: Reflex Save vs Pipe: 1d20+5 15 Nope! So the Fire is crushed / trapped in the pipe, but the pipe is getting very hot!!!!

Fort Save vs Water: 1d20+10 30 Whelp! Its a DC 26 Toughness save so even with 3 bruises it makes the save. So being a dumm lug, will try to attack: Grapples Dreadnought: 1d20+12 30 and another DC 23 Tough save for D0. For the sake of the thread, the pipe still has water in it to use (or try and scoop the demon in and crunch the sides in to contain it I suppose)

Rev "Nothing wrong with a bit of branding. As long as it isn't the red - hot - poker - on - cattle type" said Rev, enthusiastic now. "How about the kid who rights wrongs. COPY RIGHT!" she suggested, giving a thumbs up to Fax. "Or the mistress of illusion, the girl with a moral compass, MISS DIRECTION!" she added, giving a thumbs up to SFX. "Ok Ok" she laughed, quite aware of the silly nature of the conversation. "I'm not going to win any advertising prizes, am I? Although I still wouldn't mind a spandex cape with JET GIRL" written on it when I graduate from here.

Thats good! Please post away!

Rev Lexa stiffened slightly, still sore from the memories. "My Dad got shot a few years back" she explained, honestly. She felt the wetness of her eyes, but they did not bloom to tears. "So I don't know what he thinks, although the jar of ashes always gives me a nice friendly feel" she said, looking away and shrugging. "My mom, she is just glad I am alive, I think". She paused to think more on the future. She rarely did so, at least, not more than a few hours ahead. Perhaps she ought to do so more, although it was a dreadful way to look. If one's gaze lingered to the next day to often, one could get wrapped in anxiety. That path would not be for her. "But I guess I owe them both. I want them to be proud of me. Maybe I want to be proud of me too" she said, more solemnly, before suddenly reaching one arm to the sky and swapping to a flying pose. "So gimme a heat resistant cape and a touch of spandex, and I will be a HERO! JET-GIRL TO THE RESCUE...Tam tam Taaaaa!" she sang out, boldly.

GM Dumb it was indeed. As one might have predicted, being near the Thames and a botanical garden of great reknown, its water supply was second to none. The pipe was large, and so was the wtaer that spewed out of it like a lance. It hissed and evaporated as it hit the demon, who, lacking wit, just flailed around. One could almost imagine its screams, but they came as crackling fire and hisses. It struggled this way, it struggled that, but Dreadnought could easily keep the stream of water on it. Steam poured into the night sky in a rather beautiful picture. But then the water pressure started to dip, an slow. And the demon seeped forward like a nest of vipers, once again chewing the ground around Dreadnought into a blaze. Dumb it was indeed, but furious too...

Whilst this will take longer than a round (We are moving out of strict time keeping!) I will trranslate that action to a STR based Fort attack on the fiery beast/ As Dreadnought is fatigued, its -1 off normal STR but still an impressive DC 26 Fort Save. As its a damage effect, the bruise still comes into play for the fire. Fort save vs water: 1d20+9 19 Unless you object that makes it bruised and dazed so we will move straight on with another jet stream (i.e. until it is not dazed or dead!) vs Water 2: 1d20+8 23 which it somehow manages to do. The water mains run dry, but the Fire is now left with 3 bruises. It will lash out again at Dreadnought: Lashes out at Do: 1d20+12 20 which is a hit, but only a DC 23 Tough Save! Again, technically lethal damage, but becomes non-lethal due to immunity

Go for it! For reference: Dreadnought HP 1, Bruised, Fatigued

Synth "Oh no, not again!" cursed Synth. He looked down to see some seeping blood over the costume. Damn it. He could synthesise moor blood quickly, but between his crushed nose, stabbed lung, and bullet wound...well, resources were not infinite. He needed protein! and with the thought came the craving to eat two roast chickens and wash it down with a MAXIPROT shake. But not right now. "Missed!" he called back to the shooters. Lying out of his teeth. But he felt like shoving a bit of frustration back at them. With a slight grunt, he stumbled forwards, pressing the button and hoping luck would be with him...