Supercape

GM "I hope they do not" replied Arna. "And I know he is a bad sort. Anybody he spends more than a second with him knows that. But don't let that fury get to you..." she warned. She was not the sort of lady who wanted chivalry and protection, but neither was she opposed to it. What she wanted from Mr. Hale Esq was decency. The decency so apparently lacking in Lord Hale. "But seriously, this snow isn't a joke" she muttered, as it fell ever more heavily. "We won't be able to see more than ten feet..." She was perhaps not wrong, there was mutterings around the party about the snow, and already visibility was falling to afew dozen feet. But Lord Crane was having none of it. "It's just a bit of snow!" he would say, but all the same, he encouraged rope to be tied around each man, and woman. For all his drive, he was prudent. And let us march on! Arna sighed, tying the rope around her and kssing Mr. Hale Esq with warm lips. She made very certain she was next to Mr. Hale, but the line was forming...

GM Lord Crane was about to explode back. He was about to pull out his weapon. Everyone held their breath. "Of course, of course!" he smiled with a plastic face. "What was I thinking! Do excuse me dear fellow! Why, how utterly without chivalry..." he said, taking his hand from his belt. "Even if the midst of a mission of such vital import, we cannot discard the mead of human kindness, can we?" He looked at Mr Hale with cold eyes. "Why, what would be then?" Everyone let their breath out. Slowly, quietly. "Come then, dear fellows. To glory and fame!" he said, mustering up the demoralised sailors. "and power and wealth beyond compare..." he muttered to himself. The snow really was landing hard now, and Arna sidled up to Mr. Hale, Esq. "He's a bit crazy..." she muttered, once ensuring Lord Crane was out of earshot. "There is going to be a blizzard...."

GM Lord Crane calmed down a bit. Arna was getting dressed. Perhaps that got him calm. Or hot. Or both. "Yes, well. Chop chop then lads!" he said, trying to instil some encouragement in the four sailors. It was not long until the men got out. The snow was beginning to fall more heavily. "I fear the weather is against us, Lord Crane" said the Professor, stiff and cold. "Maybe even a blizzard..." "Nonsense! Nothing a bit of grit and determination will not overcome, dear Professor. You underestimate us!" said Lord Crane, high spirited. "I think you may underestimate the weather" said Arna, not meeting his eye. "Shut up! I don't know why I agreed to take you!" exploded Lord Crane at Arna, furious but not violent. "Why, I have half a mind to send you back to the ship! I probably would if it was not a treacherous night!"

GM Lord Crane looked rather irritated at the delay. He had not bathed, and he was impolitely demanding the sailors - and Arna for that matter, remove themselves from the blissful warmth and jolly well get on with the mission. In this endeavour he was successful. The sailors were grumbling but compliant. "And where the devil have you been?" he snapped at Mr. Hale, Esq. He was uncharacteristically vexed. "The mission if vital to me...the empire" he said, his cool exterior seemingly eroding as they approached the meteor. "I believe, as does the good professor, that the metal composition is of extraordinary value. Something in it...could power our industry for decades. Centuries! We need to maintain our industrial strength!" he explained, monologue style. "So get a blinking well move on! Where were you?" he demanded of Mr. Hale insistently.

Meaning Jann is now up!

GM The Leapfrogger in the pick up Van stood up, nearly slipping on A Night at the Opera and hurled a fire cracker at Jann, the bright magnesium pellet flying past him. Close, but no cigar. The driver, however, lit a cigar on his flamethrower and calmly put it in his mouth. "Those wings will look might fine roasted. With some hot chilli sauce! Yee-haaaw!" he shouted at the approaching Bird of Arms. And with a flick of a switch, and a pull of a trigger, a stream of orange fire blossomed forward, straight at Jann...

Ok so we have bent the rules a bit for narrative sake. And quite right! Also I will give Jann an HP at this point for carrying that poor leap frogger the whole time without dropping him! ROund 1: 24 Final Leap Frogger 22 Blowtorch 16 Jann - 2 HP - Fatigued 11 Pilot (out of view) As Jann approaches there will be two primed actions: Leap Frogger throws a firecracker: I lost the link, sorry! He rolled 14 + 5 = 19 which is I think a miss. Blowtorch will as a move action intimidate: Intimidates BoA: 1d20+6 26 yoikes. I think the fearless feat will protect against that, however. And then fire a line area flame at Jann: This is a Damage 6 effect, with vulnerability coming into play for a Damage 7 effect. (DC 17 Reflex then a Toughness 22/18 save).

GM The Pick Up Truck sped on, burning tyres. It was a frantic pace, its engine slammed on to full, its driver reckless. It was a straight line to the prop plane, but then, a hard break. There was the most awful screeching sound, and for a moment it looked like the driver would lose control, sending the pick up truck into a spin. The truck wobbled, and turned. It slammed broad side on into the prop plane. There would be significant repairs to the body work on both vehicles, but the prop plane still spun its rotors and looked air-worthy. The driver got out. With his eagle eyes, Jann could spot him. A six foot man, big, strong, tattoos. A cool gunslinger moustache, cool sunglasses (even in this darkness), and long hair. He looked like a biker, although Jann could see a military tattoo on his arm. And that arm held a sleek chrome flamethrower, complete with back pack full of fuel. "Its time for fried chicken!" he shouted with a laugh and a little fizz of flame...

Ok time for another driver roll as he tries to brake in front of the prop plane. Breaks Pick Up Truck hard: 1d20+4 12 Thats enough to slam safely. Both the Pick up truck and the Plane take an injury but are otherwise unharmed. Now is a good time to restart initiative, I think. Initiative: 3#1d20 17 18 11 again lazy of me but adding in the initiatives: 24 Final Leap Frogger 22 Driver? 11 Pilot (out of view) By the way, Jann will have kept pace but not gained. He still has a Leapfrogger in his arms (which must be tired!) and is 100' away. Probably no more than 20' high now?

GM There was significant turbulence. It made a right old mess of the Leapfrogger in Jann's arms. He was however distracted from hairstyle related vexation what with a massive airplane bearing down on them. He screamed something about being crazy and everyone dying. He may not have been entirely wrong. It was a close shave, and the wind buffeted the wings powerfully. Jann was close enough to see the pilots face, full of white dread. But in the end, with the boost of speed, he could actually ride the turbulence, and was now closing in on the runaway pick up van. Maybe a hundred feet now separated them. "He's catching up, boss!" screamed the Leapfrogger in the van to the driver. The Pick up Van revved the engine, travelling at full speed towards a single prop plane, maybe fivehundred feet away. And the prop plane was idling...

Ronin Power Level: 9/13 (217/245 PP) Unspent Power Points: 28 Trade-Offs: +4 Attack/-4 DC, +4 Defence/-4 Damage In Brief: Military Vet turned street hero. With a splash of Karate and a dash of 80s Action films. Alternate Identity: Curtis Crane Birthplace: Nancy Street, Bedlam Residence: 22 Nancy Street, Bedlam (off Ash Street) Base of Operations: The Well (Hidden under 22 Nancy Street) Occupation: Odd Job Man, US Army Vet. Affiliations: None Family Yoshie Chiba (Elderly Grandmother), Luther Crane (Alcoholic Father, Incarcerated for the murder of Curtis’ mother / his wife), Eleanor Crane (Street Cop Half-Sister), Jack Crane (US Marine Elder Cousin, Medically discharged after bilateral leg amputation). Yoshie, Jack, and Eleanor all live in 22 Nancy Street. Description: Age: 35 (25/12/1982) Apparent Age: 35 Gender:Male Ethnicity: ¼ Asian (Japanese - Maternal Grandmother), ¾ African American Height: 5’8” Weight: 80 Kgs Eyes: Brown Hair: Shaved Curtis Crane is a man of slightly short but strong frame. He has dark skin and a slightly exotic look to him. He usually cuts his hair to military grade shortness and sports a neat goatee. He had one earing and a few scars on his body (in particular, one on his forehead). He has a US army tattoo on his right arm and a tattoo of a Samurai on his left. As Ronin, Curtis wears a customized protective vest and carries his “Street Special” a modified non-lethal shotgun in a large shoulder holster. He also wears his personalized “Bushido” Trench coat, complete with a Katana motif on the back. Inside his trench coat he has a few more concealed weapons. Power Descriptions Whilst Ronin himself has no powers, his “Street Special” weapon has some rather elegant and impressive effects, namely: “Iron Fist” (a straightforward round) “Divine Wind” (a booming shotgun blast that knocks people off their feet) “Dragon’s Breath” (a short burst of blindingly bright fire), “Hornet’s Nest” (fills the air with buzzing shrapnel) and “Ogre’s Breath” (a smouldering smoky shell fills the air with dense smoke). History: Curtis grew up on one of the most deprived streets in Bedlam, Nancy Street. For all its problems, the Nancy Street residents stuck together and the “Nancy Street Crew” would always form to beat back organised crime or street thugs. Ronin came from a troubled household but his saving grace was his Grandmother, who despaired of her daughter and son in law but loved Curtis; teaching him akido and karate from a yound age. Curtis very smart kid. He did well at school, and would have gone far if the school and his home life was better; Aged 16, his good for nothing drug addled Father murdered his Mother. Bitter, angry and impatient to leave Nancy Street, he joined the army. Here, he learned discipline and excelled. After some time in the infantry he turned to engineering and bomb disposal. He became an expert in weapons maintenance, modification, and design. All that came to an end when he was caught by an IED in the Afghanistan. Left with a nice scar and concussion, he decided to leave. He respected his comrades in arms, but he didn’t really know what he was fighting for anymore. Ronin returned to Nancy street and found it in worse shape than ever. Most of the Nancy Street Crew had disbanded (or in a few cases, had been killed), and it was rife with drugs, thugs, and worse. The Police were of little use and sometimes worse than the street thugs, taking bribes, corrupt, and sometimes plain sadistic or racist. Moving into his Grandmothers house, he determined to do something about it: Dismantling the gangs on the streets, organised crime, and the corrupt in power. Naming himself Ronin, with his military, martial, and engineering expertis, he would be the honourable Samurai with no master… Personality & Motivation: Despite his tough upbringing (and Curtis is tough), Ronin has a strict code of honour. He won’t kill, he won’t maim, or torture. He meditates daily, and tries to ensure self-discipline. Thus, whilst he is not a forgiving man, and in some ways merciless, he is not sadistic or violent. He is not motivated by vengeance but by love for his friends, family, and neighbours. Whilst he operates outside the law (to bring down corruption) he actually has immense respect for the law (and its enforcers) when it works properly. Curtis has a selectively cynical attitude. He doesn’t believe the police or the government do much (if anything) to help the poorest or the most vulnerable. He does however believe in his fellow man, his family, his friends, the social worker, the youth worker, and Nancy Street (his home). Whilst he often operates alone, he believes that we are stronger together. He has an interest in Zen and the Shinto religion; for all his “street” credentials, he is a self-educated and philosophical man. Curtis is just as home repairing an automobile of a small businessman, fixing the Youth Centre computer, helping out in the soup kitchen for the homeless, or dropping off an OD’d drug addict to a medical centre. Powers & Tactics: Ronin / Curtis has no powers, but is an intelligent and physically capable man. He has extensive military and combat training and has been Practicing martial arts (mainly Akido and Karate) over twenty years. He has a number of self – designed / self – built paramilitary devices, the prime among them is his converted shotgun, the “Street Special”, a.k.a “Katana”. The Street Special is a rather short, elegant weapon. It has less raw stopping power than a regular shotgun, but is more versatile and reliable (and, importantly, non-lethal). Perhaps his greatest strength is his loyalty, honour, and pure will power. This is backed up by the support and respect he has in his neighbourhood. Complications: Bushido: To a greater or lesser extent, Ronin keeps to the Bushido traditions. Acting honourably, fearlessly, and with self-control or restraint. Often this is to his advantage (e.g. the fearless feat) but sometimes not so; for instance, he will struggle to “back down” or “retreat” – he may not start a hopeless fight, but once in one, he won’t run from it either. He would be reluctant to use his weapons against a (single) unarmed opponent (unless that opponent was super powered). Supply and Demand: Ronin doesn’t have any income. He relies on odd jobs (as a mechanic etc) which are cash in hand, the goodwill of Nancy Street, and “salvaging” (which includes taking what he needs from crooks he busts). This might mean he has problems replacing or repairing, or even reloading, his equipment. Brothers in Arms: Usually cynical, Ronin will have big respect for military men (or women). Particularly those in the front line (medics, infantry, etc), veterans, or old-timers. He has less, but still some, respect for commanders etc. He will be inclined to automatically trust and help such individuals (or those that can effectively pretend to have such a background). This attitude is also prevalent towards many super heroes and police – at least ones who have proved themselves as compassionate and honourable. Neighbourhood Watcher: Whilst a source of strength, Ronin also has a duty to protect Nancy Street, and to a lesser extent its neighbourhood and even Bedlam itself. He has a number of friends and family on the street that are dependants and sources of vulnerability (especially as his identity is essentially open). If his reputation is somehow marred, he will (at least transiently) lose his benefit feats. No Mod Cons: Ronin is a skilled mechanic, and keeps second hand cars modified and running. But they are built for utility not comfort. His vehicles don’t have any luxuries like CD players or air/con. At best, they have a slightly bad quality FM radio. Outlaw(ish): Technically Ronin is a vigilante, wanted by the Police. However, given his reputation and lack of serious crime (e.g. no murder), opinion on this is divided amongst the police force. Some (the corrupt) want his head on a spike (before, figuratively, he wants theirs on one). Some view him with favour, and even covertly support him (like his sister), most take a pragmatic position in between; they should ideally arrest him, but frankly they have bigger fish to fry and if he occasionally brings in a crook, best not to ask too many questions. Abilities: 6 + 8 + 4 + 6 + 6 + 2 = 32 Strength: 16 (+3) Dexterity: 18 (+4) Constitution: 14 (+2) Intelligence: 16 (+3) Wisdom: 16 (+3) Charisma: 12 (+1) Combat: 28 + 28 = 56 Initiative: +12 Attack: +14 Defense: +14 (+7 Flat Footed) Grapple: +18 Knockback: -2 Saving Throws: 4 + 6 + 7 = 17 Toughness: +2/+4 (with Jacket) Fortitude: +6 (+2 Con, +4) Reflex: +10 (+4 Dex, +6) Will: +10 (+3 Wis, +7) Skills: 160 R = 40 PP Acrobatics 6 (+10) SM Bluff 4 (+5) Climb 2 (+5) Computers 4 (+7) Craft (Chemical) 8 (+11) Craft (Electronics) 8 (+11) Craft (Mechanical) 12 (+15) SM Craft (Structural) 8 (+11) Disable Device 12 (+15) SM Drive 6 (+10) SM Gather Information 8 (+9) Intimidate 12 (+13) Knowledge (Physical Sciences) 4 (+7) Knowledge (Pop Culture) 2 (+5) Knowlegde (Streetwise) 12 (+15) Knowledge (Tactics) 4 (+7) Knowledge (Technology) 4 (+7) Knowledge (Theology and Philosophy) 4 (+7) Languages 4 (Arabic, English [Native], French, Japanese, Mandarin, Spanish) Medicine 2 (+5) Notice 8 (+11) Search 4 (+7) Sense Motive 8 (+11) Stealth 8 (+12) Swim 2 (+5) Feats: 45PP Accurate Attack All Out Attack Assessment Attractive (Street Cool) Benefit: 3 (Local Hero, Informant Contact, Rusty Rose) Blind-Fight Bomb Defusing Expert (+5 situational bonus on disarm device only for defusing bombs / explosives!) Challenge (Fast Startle) Challenge (Fast Demoralize) Chokehold Defensive Attack Defensive Throw* Elusive Target Endurance Equipment 11 Evasion 2 Fearless Grappling Block Grappling Finesse Improved Critical 2 (Unarmed Attack) Improved Disarm Improved Grab Improved Initiative 2 Improved Pin Improved Sunder Improved Throw Improved Trip Improvised Tools Jack of All Trades Power Attack Precise Shot 2 Quick Draw Ranged Pin Second Chance: STR Saves vs Disarm Skill Mastery 1 (Drive, Mechanical, Disable Device, Acrobatics) Startle Stunning Attack Takedown Attack 1 Uncanny Dodge 1 (Auditory) Weapon Bind *as per "Warriors and Warlocks" Equipment: 8 + 12 + 16 + 13 + 5 + 1 = 55/55 EP HQ: The Curtis Residence Basement a.k.a “The Well” [8 EP] Size: Tiny [-1 EP], Toughness: 10 [1 EP], Features: Communications, Concealed 5 [+30 DC], Power System, Workshop [8 EP] Trenchcoat Array (8 PP Array, Feats: Alt Power 3, Easily Concealed Weapons*) [12 EP] BP: Obscure 3 (25’ Visual Feats: Slow Fade 1) [7/8 PP] “Smoke Pellet” AP: Damage 2 (Extras: Range, Feats: Improved Critical 2) [6/8 PP] “Shuriken” AP: Snare 4 [8/8 PP] “Weighted Bolos” AP: Dazzle 2 (Auditory) linked with Stun 2 (Extras: Range) [2+6=8 PP] “Firecracker” *To notice weapons: DC 15 for Shotgun, DC25 for Trench coat array. For a pat-down/search, DC 5 for Shotgun, DC 15 for Trench Coat Array Explosives (Blast 5, Extra: Area, Feats: Triggered 1 [timer]) [16 EP] Vehicle: Pick Up Truck STR 40 [2 EP], Toughness 9, Size Huge [2 EP], Features: Alarm, Caltrops, Oil Slick, Smoke Screen [13 EP] Alt Vehicles 5 (As per Core Rule Book: Motorcycle, Compact Car, Midsize Car, Full Sized Car, Van, all with additional features as per main vehicle) [5 EP] Rebreather [1 EP] Powers: 4 + 12 = 16 Device 1 (5 DP) [4 PP] “Protective Vest” Protection 2 (Feats: Second Chance 3 [Toughness vs Ballistic, Knives/Blades, Explosions]) [5/5 DP] Device 4 (20 DP, Flaws: Easy to Lose [-2]) [12 PP] “Street Special” Shotgun (a.k.a. “Katana”) Shot Array (16 PP Array, Feats: Alt power 4) [20 DP]BP: Blast 4 (Extras: Penetrating, Feats: Improved Critical 2, Variable Descriptor 1 [Piercing / Blunt) [15/16 PP] “Iron Fist” / “Swift Arrow”AP: Blast 4 (Feats: Progression Range Increment 2 [Rx50’], Drawbacks: Reduced Range 2, to 100’ Max) linked with Trip 4 (Extras: Knockback, Feats: Progression Range Increment 2 [Rx50’], Drawbacks: Reduced Range 2, to 100’ Max) [8+8=16/16 PP] “Divine Wind”AP: Strike 7 (Extras: Area[Cone], Feats: Progression Decrease Area 6, Flaws: Limited to Damage 3 Effect vs Protection power or armour) [16/16 PP] “Hornet’s Nest”AP: Dazzle 4 (Visual) linked with Blast 4 [8+8 = 16/16 PP] [Fire Descriptor] “Dragons Breath”AP: Strike 1 (Feats: Mighty) “Pistol-whip” [2/16 PP] DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 18 Toughness Damage “SS”: Iron Fist Ranged DC 19 Toughness Damage “SS”: Divine Wind Ranged DC 19 Toughness + DC 19 Trip Damage/Trip “SS”: Arrow Storm Area Cone DC 23/18 Toughness Damage “SS”: Dragon Breath 20’ Max DC 19 Reflex + DC 19 Tough Dazzle/Dam “SS”: Pistol Whip Touch DC 19 Toughness Damage Baton Touched DC 19 Toughness Damage Shuriken Ranged DC 17 Toughness Damage Bolos Ranged DC 19 Reflex Snare Firecrackers Ranged DC 17 Reflex/Fort Deaf/Stun Abilities 32 + Skills 30 + Feats 56 + Powers 16 + Combat 56 + Saves 17 = 217/245 Power Points

So I am guessing Jann is activating the booster Jets on his flight suit - which works fine but will exhaust the jets on this time scale? (incidentally UP says triggered only on instant duration powers so I am not sure how that works with flight, but I'm not letting that slow down the action! ) Is the above ok with you?

Starshot 2007 The Glass Nebulae The star was white and bright, still young. A distant twin sun was far away but could be seen. The planet itself was humid and warm, bathed in nutritious light and blessed with a wonderful biotic soup of chemicals. It had become a jungle world. One could barely move through the vegetation that struggled for supremacy. Animal life had not yet evolved, perhaps because of the ever expanding vegetable life that was rich and complex. Some plants moved, twitched, or convulsed in order to reach the sun, reach the water, reach the soil, or, in some cases, rend asunder competing plants. Vines locked in deadly embraces, toxic spores and leaves fluttered trying to poison the competition. One large plant was slowly digesting another with a poisonous maw that moved at a glacial pace, until with a reflexive victorious snap, the maw shut, tearing apart its meal. Starshot could feel the thermo-regulators in his spine whirring over time. Even he could not keep up this heat and humidity long. He took another long gulp of water. He felt sweat run down his body. He wore only trousers and boots, carried only water and a navigator. And a Plasma-Net Gun. His torso was bare, and showed signs of cybernetic enhancements. And deep scars on his left side. *Any sign yet? He must be close mmmwahhh* The oily voice of Zaul Zeno came over the radio. Zaul was not cruel but he was callous, only truly interested in his art of biological and cybernetic expeditions. “He is close” replied Starshot, knowing better than to argue with Zaul. His spine was littered with agoniser nodules and his heart wired with explosives. Not that they were used these days. Zaul had no interest in inflicting pain, just in his objectives. And he was not a slave driver, merely a slave user. He did not drive Starshot to exhaustion. He merely used him effectively. And for all Zaul’s callous interests, Starshot had seen him stop plagues, cure the sick, and build cybernetic replacements for the disabled. Simply out of interest. Just as Zaul had no hesitation in harming others, he had no objection to helping them either. The Xeno’s sensors were top class, and had located the feral mutant on this world. A young Lor man, by the sounds of it, living alone on this vegetative world for a decade and more. Alone. It must have driven him mad. There was a scuffle in the undergrowth. Starshot wheeled round. Fast as he was, he was not quite fast enough. The Lor was on him, a blotched, purple mutant, full of bulbous tumours and wasted flesh. Yet for his all his skinny appearance he was fast. Very fast. He was on Starshot, scrabbling at his face, and gibbering sounds. Whatever language he had was corrupted. “Food me eat Food me eat!” Starshot was not sure if the spluttered words referred to a hunger or a desire to eat his face. But the whole situation was shocking. He put his boot on the mutants chest and kicked him off. Fortunately the mutant, despite his speed, weighed little. The mutant was on all fours as quick as lightning. Fast, so very fast. Faster than Starshot. But he had the second he needed. The plasma net gun came down, drew level, and it was a point blank shot. The sparking plasma net folded open, and folded close, the mutant caught inside. “We have him” he said to Zaul, a little sad, a little disgusted. And so… Back on the Xeno, Zaul slithered over to the struggling mutant, his four arms restless to get to work. Starshot stood to one side, leaning against the interior of the ship. He had a deep nausea and disgust, but he had done such horrors a thousand times. He had little choice, he told himself. But there was always a choice. He bode his time. One day, he would be free of servitude. Until then, all he could do was try to curtail Zaul, or blow his brains out. It was not that the other option had not occurred to him. He was not sure if evading it was brave or cowardly. Zaul stabbed the struggling Lor with a powerful narcotic and within moments the mutant was in a deep anaesthetic slumber. Then, the las-scalpel came out. Whatever else Zaul was, he was a master of his craft. With dexterity and skill he went to work on his dissection…. 2017 Vort-Zoorlis 12 It was a cold planet, full of ice and snow, circling a distant blue star. Only the equator was really habitable, and that was still a bleak and desolate place, with hardy plants and moss clinging to stone, with icy rivers flowing slowly on a flat landscape. Vort-Zoolis 12 was at the edge of Lor space. Some might argue just beyond it. It was a stopping off point to pause, rest, and trade. And in particular, trade things that perhaps where perhaps not strictly meant to be traded. The Xeno was parked here. An anomalous ship In the basic, makeshift starport of just a few buildings. Whilst it was sleek and luxurious, the other few ships were designed for hauling cargo, and doing so with plenty of stealth fields activated. There was only one proper meeting place, nicknamed the “Cold Hall”. It was a chilly warehouse, with a small bar serving cold drinks. A few played cards, a few swapped stories, a few got drunk. Starshot was doing none of the above. Ten years ago he had watched Zaul dissect the mutant and extract some kind of parasite from its organs. A dangerous parasite. A weapon. It was a bitter time, and left him sour. He was slowly trying to mop up the mess he had made. There were four spacers, freelance men who dealt with illegal goods and illegal actions. Tough men who acted even tougher. Boots and blasters, a few scars between them. “…and I rammed the Draxallian right up there. With a carton of tri-noodles. Hwah hwah hwah!” bragged one, finishing his tall tale. Starshot moved silently when he wanted to, and loomed above the four seated men. “Any of you know anything about a parasitic bio weapon?” he asked, voice low and slow. The four men startled, and tried to cover their startle. “What you know about the…?” “Shut up, Troz! We don’t know nothing about nothing, and anybody who asks, gets a face full of blaster!” Starshot remained silent and still. “Didn’t you hear me? Get lost…” demanded the nearest spacer, pulling out his blaster pistol. It didn’t get far. Starshot kicked him over in his chair and put his boot on the hand. The others responded, but too slowly, standing up and pulling their weapons. They hadn’t expected trouble from a lone man, and that slowed them. Starshot punched the nearest man a dozen yards through the hall, crashing into a pile of tinned beans. In a quick fluid moment he cracked his whip, taking the blaster pistol out of a third man. Much harder, and it would have broken the man’s hand. The fourth got his pistol out and, wavering, pointed it at an unfazed Starshot, who barely looked at him. His boot still crushed the first man beneath him, and his hand fondled the grip of his whip. “You….you picked the wrong people to mess with, mister….” he spluttered, unsure about whether to pull the trigger, flee as fast as he could, or just fumble around and hope that somehow, magically, this wasn’t actually happening. “No decision is a decision” explained Starshot. Out of sight, with the faintest of whirring, his left hand unclamped from his arm. The micro-jets kicked in, and the fingers clenched into a fist. “What’s happening?” asked the last spacer, hearing but not comprehending. His answer was a small cybernetic fist flying through the air and connecting with his skull. He had no time to contemplate the ramifications of his error, for he slumped to the ground out cold. “The parasite. Where is it?” demanded Starshot, crunching his boot on the man’s hand. 2027 The Glass Nebulae Twenty years ago, this had been a fringe jungle world. Now, it was a reservation plant, where endangered species had been translocated and cared for. Supported by the Lor government and generous payments from wealthy men. And Starshot was tending it. He was a wealthy man, now. He had cleaned up what he could of his past. He had hunted all manner of villain and beast and made his fortune. He had bequeathed the Xeno to Dugga, not without some reservations, but even Gunmonkey had accrued a little wisdom over the years and grown up. And Starshot was feeling old. His cybernetic bio-filters kept his body in prime condition, but somehow he felt old inside. A man can only take so much of life. He had achieved what he wanted to achieve out of this life, and this gave him a restlessness. He was sitting in a magnificent leather armchair, overlooking the reserve in front of him. Lost in thought, he did not notice the man take a seat next to him. A purple skilled Lor man dressed in neat, plain, white clothes that gave the impression he was a monk. “Good view” said the Lor, matching Starshot’s gaze. Starshot turned, slightly, sizing up the man. He couldn’t recognise him, but on the other hand, he wasn’t unfamiliar. Something was nagging in his brain. The Lor laughed quietly. It wasn’t a laugh full of mirth. “You don’t recognise me, do you?” Starshot remained silent, unmoving. That nagging feeling as growing claws that raked the inside of his skull. “I don’t blame you. It’s been a long time, and you have been busy. As I have I, in a different way. It took me twelve years until I could speak…” he said, gazing at the Jungle before them. “And I have changed. Grown. I was just a boy when we first met” Starshot felt the grim suspicion rising in him condense. “It was you. Here. Twenty years ago…” The Lor spun his chair round to face Starshot, and gave him a long hard look. “It was twenty years ago. When I got pulled apart and stitched back together. Saved, in one way, destroyed, in another…” he explained. Now that he was up close, Starshot could see the subtle signs of cybernetics in his body. Crude rather than sleek. Botch jobs. Uncomfortable at best. Probably painful. Starshot contemplated saying it was not his fault, or deflecting the blame. He kept his mouth shut. It would not help, and quite probably it would be a lie anyway. “I have spent over a decade trying to clean up the mess” he explained, slowly and calmly. “Even burnt up those parasites you had in you. Found them on Vort Zoorlis. The spacers smuggling them didn’t come out of that pretty” “What do you expect, a thanks?” came the Lor’s steely reply. Starshot met the gaze steel for steel. “No I don’t” he answered. The two stared at each other a moment, locked in thought and will. “I spent twenty years piecing myself back together. Working bad jobs, trying to pay to get the implants done proper. Had to stay hidden. Back streets and lonely worlds. It wasn’t pleasant. I only managed to crawl through my life by giving it a meaning” explained the Lor. He pulled open his shirt to reveal a network of scars and clumsy cybernetics. But one of them was chrome and shiny. A crisp tube in the centre of his body. With a hiss, it extended forward an inch or two. And then, with a pop of gas, it shot forward three feet, a spike that impaled Starshot’s chest. He winced. It had entered his chest cavity. He could feel blood and air mix in his lung. But worse…he saw something slither down the tube that connected them. “The parasites. They still grow in me” said the Lor bluntly, as the tube contracted back. He stood up, standing over the convulsing Starshot who was frothing at the mouth. “They always kill. Without fail. Except me” he explained, starting to walk away. “I feel no better for your death. But I was compelled to do it. Justice. Poetry, call it what you will…” He turned and left the viewing hall. Behind him, Starshot felt his vision going black….

GM The Firecracker arced through the air and hit the front of the pick up truck just as a celebratory spit of fire was coming out of the front. Predictably, the firecracker exploded in a bright loud light right on the bonnet of the vehicle. It was some distance away, and it was a noisy place, an airport. But Jann could swear he heard swearing. In response, the pick up truck screeched again, taking a hard right, and crossing the runway - this time, right infront of an incoming 747! The pick up truck put everything into the gas, roaring past the incoming flight path, and on towards a more distant air field... But Jann was in danger of collision if he followed...

I think that works. The firecracker will explode and lets call that its normal dazzle 5 effect. Reflex Save vs Firecracker Dazzle: 1d20+4 23 its a funktastic roll! And I will award an HP for the complication of an incoming change. I think that makes Jann Fatigued and 2 HP?

GM The pick up truck kept on speeding through the airport, igniting alarms and panic as it tore through. A couple of brave security officers tried to pull the car over, pulling out their fire arms. One even got a frightened shot of, a crack resounding through the night air. The trucks front windscreen shattered. Yet more glass tinkling in what would be a night of broken glass. This did not stop the pick up truck or the driver. Arguably it even helped them. For from the front of the pick up truck came a stream of fire! Rightly, the two security guards jumped to either side as the fire streamed in a cone left and right. One could only imagine that the driver who was emitting this flame (through unseen processes) was not trying to roast them alive, but scare them. And in this determination, he succeeded. And so the truck sped along a runway strip...

No its just a kick in of the "Poison" extra, meaning 10 rounds (i.e. about now) you have to make another save. the Fatigue itself wont recover without an hours rest or an HP. (Which is why the Fatigue attack is good; the actual status is less effective than Nauseate/Paralyse/Daze/Stun but those can get shaken off in a round or two...)

ok lets have that poison gas poison effect kick in: Another Fatigue 5 effect!

GM The Pick up truck raced down Milward Av at reckless speed. It must have been going at 60mph, hurtling through red lights. It was fortunate not to have another crash. Other cars screamed out of the way. Soon, a police car was behind it, sirens blazing, lights flashing. It was keeping up - but it was not so bold as to try and stop the pick up. As the Pick up gained distance on Jann, who was travelling more slowly but did not have to contend with traffics or road safety, it hit Jefferson, swerving left then right, burning rubber as it tried to avoid the cross town traffic. A little time for Jann to catch up, before the pick up surged forward again, this time plowing through a fence into Jefferson Airport...

GM The Leap Frogger was not keen on released, and gripped even tighter, a vice around Jann's arm. Below them, the Pick up truck picked up pace. The Leapfrogger on the back was scanning the skies above them, alert to the fact that Jann could fly. It was the wings. They were quite the giveaway. "There he is!" he yelled, pointing at the winged man above them. The Truck turned, sharply, skidding across the road, overshooting the turn. Its side crunched into Rocket Records, to the sound of tinkling glass and a burgular alarm. A few choice LPs fell into the pick up truck. It was bonus day! A Night at the Opera, Dark Side of the moon, Hot Rats....it was surely a splendid musical feast. The car stalled but quickly reignited, the crunched metal on its side not impairing the engine which started up with a dirty cough. And then it was off, doubling back south, towards Jefferson and Jordan Airport.

Thats fine. Ill make a few rolls DC 15 Drive DC 10 Notice to see what happens below: Doo de doo doo: 2#1d20 12 14 The car crashes a little doing a turn, slowing it down slightly but also giving the pick up truck 1 bruise The Leapfogger on the back spots Jann above. At this point, I will say 200' Away plus your call in height (I would say 50'?) Its too far for a firecracker to be thrown but Jann is noticed.

Simply because a chase scene in a golf cart at 10mph is fun, can I spend an HP to find some keys somewhere? Otherwise try to hotwire etc.

The Red Rat Bear Fast...yes! That's good! A Fast Bear! The Golf Cart looked attractive. The Riding Mower looked more attractive. She had visions of driving it along, mowing down the zombie hordes. Limbs flying left, limb's flying run, blood flying everywhere. But no, the proles might be under some hypnotic influence. But they were not zombies. Golf Cart it was. She paused a breath, to take a deep one, slotting her gun back into a holster. Then she took a run and vaulted over the fence, one arm still holding the buzzing box like a baby. Although she was sorely tempted to cave this babies head in with a golf club. Landing the other side she jumped into the Golf Cart and started looking for keys. Keys...keys...come on, come on...do I have to hot wire this thing? With superior soviet X-Ray Vision, she spied the key hiding in the glove compartment, alongside some suspicious magazines of disreputable content. "Thank Lenin for that!" she said, full of sardonic sarcasm, as she ignited the electric engine with a whhrrrr.... "See you suckers!" she yelled at the approaching hoard as she put her foot to the flaw and sped away at a top speed of 10mph....

GM At this height, it was a perilous fall. Even for a trained freerunner, it would be a pavement pizza. "Look...look...don't drop me!" the man screamed, clinging on to Jann with hands that, whilst already strong from his hobby, seemed possessed of twice their normal strength. Such was the effect of terror on muscles. "I don't know where we were meeting up! I just know we were meant to get on the pick up..." Lo and behold, beneath them, turning east, was a pick up truck. It was a little beaten up. It was travelling too fast. And it was a rather unpleasant dull green colour that surely was designed to have the tone and shade of snot. Whilst Jann could not make out the driver, he could make out the last Leapfrogger, huddled on the open back.