Supercape

Starshot "mmm...keep it" said Starshot. It was not entirely born of of generous goodwill. Money would be a distraction, make him beholden to some kind of contract. And he had no wish to be beholden. That said, the alien would be travelling in his ship, under his protection. That was a duty he had, although he felt it was one he had chosen rather than a deal imposed. "I have a ship that can get us down there. The Xeno. Hunting Yacht. Its not armed, but it is fast, and has some of the best sensor systems you can get. We can do a sweep, see if we can pick anything up. If I know Cain, he's probably using his drones to do the dirty stuff. With a bit of luck, we should be able to get him locked down that way" he said, considering the options. "I've got an ATV on the Xeno, too. We can use that once we know where he is. But at the end of the day, knowing that terrain, well, there are some things even an ATV can't handle. Might need to go on foot" he explained. "Sometimes easier that way, anyway, if we need to track him". The Xeno, and its ATV, where stocked up well enough for anything they might reasonably encounter. But he halted a moment. "You still haven't told me why you want him? Is it just the money? I have no problem with that, but I like to know what's in a mans heart..." he asked.

Given that distance; how far do you want to throw it? I just realised throwing an anaconda a mile through the sky would indicate he is superhuman!

Is it Ok to take the Xeno down to the planet? (Starshots ship?)

Ok I may have this wrong but its about 200, 250 lbs. Your effective throwing STR if 66. Thats 50 points more than needed to lift the snake as a heavy load, or 10 points on the distance progression table, meaning x1000 range, or 5000'. More than enough to put it out of play.

your call but check IC!

GM Rosa did have the presence of mind, the steel, to flip up the outboard motor, leaving the boat to silently drift towards the huts (which where still a good several dozen feet away). She looked at the motor for a moment, and its whirring blades.... The snake coiled and looped, but this time a vice like hand had gripped the head, and now it was caught in Kimo's arms. It struggled and spiralled, but despite its strength it could not break loose. Hsssss.....came an escaping sound, and its breath was faintly noxious, like swamp gas. Rosa stood up, armed with the motor, turning the blades towards the body of the snake. She was intent on cutting the serpent to pieces....

Toughness vs KK: 1d20+3 19 Bruised as well. As for grapple: grapple vs KK2: 1d20+8 23 which means you have the snake pinned and grappled (Fail by 5). Given your overwhelming grapple advantage, lets pause at that moment with narrative bendy-time. Other stuff will happen, but feel free to damage it or throw it according to your whim. Also please direct me as to how this might interact with his secret ID and visibility and how you might want to play it.

Starshot So, he was not the only one trying to catch Cain. Not surprising, but on the other hand, it was drummed home by the alien. AWhich also drummed home another point. This would mean a competition, of sorts. Other hunters, trying to bag the prize. That would mean problems actually capturing Cain, and even worse, taking him back to custody without somebody trying to steal the bounty from him. Or perhaps, from them. There was no way of knowing how trustworthy the alien was. He didn't exactly project a great vibe on first glance, but he wasn't trying to be silver tongued and shadowed either. "Not many are" he answered, becoming marginally less frosty but still cool. "I can help you there" he offered. He didn't want the money. The Xeno and his business made enough to live and more. He wouldn't say no to some more, of course - you never knew when you might need it - but his grim determination was the ending of Carnivore Cain's career. Would he end it brutally? If need be....God knew he wanted to, but the law should be the way to do it, if possible. "I can help you there. Got a ship to get us there. Even shot a few bats a few years ago. I know the terrain and the beasts as well as anybody" he professed, with a probable slight inflation of the truth - but it never hurts to sell oneself a little. "Still, the planets a big place. Maybe we can pick him up with a sensor scan. Maybe not. Be good to know where he is..." He scratched his scar again, studying the alien. "And good to know who I'm speaking too...."

GM The snake shifted back from the swing. For all its size, it was not slow. It paused a poignant moment, studying his prey. "Get behind me!" screamed Rosa Sanchez, both terrified and brave. The Kid was, after all, virtually a Kid. The Snake slithered on board like an oily rope. It was as large as its submarine shadow suggested it would be. Captain Hammer backed off, almost dazed. "No! No!" he screamed, only to catch the side of the boat and fall into the fetid waters with an impressive gloop sounding splash. It was fortunate he did not trip onto the outboard motor, or he could be missing more than just one hand. The Snake coiled around Kimo, strong, but not strong enough. Yet the writhing wrestling rocked and barraged him from side to side, tossing him this way and that. And that malign face came straight to his.

The Snake will attack back (as you say, thats a miss: For reference using the Constrictor Snake stats of core book, namely defence +5). Attack Kimo: 1d20+5 15 which I think is just a hit. DC 18 Toughness save, and as it has Improved Grab feat, a grapple. Its grapple roll is: Grapple vs KK: 1d20+8 18. Given KK will have a grapple of +22, that will fail automatically. Meaning Round 2 and KK is up again.

Starshot Sky-Tyrants? The giant bat creatures? Starshot spared an intuitive glance at the board of the Lodge. Cain's name was up there, on a hunt. Looked like the same broad location. "My favourite thing in the world" he answered, in a somewhat dry tone. The alien did not look like a bounty hunter, or a big game hunter, or any other hunter. But then, he was pretty alien. He could have been both and a opera singing trapeze artist for all he knew. But - the alien did somehow look a bit out of place, like he wasn't a regular at the lodge, not quite at home amongst tooth and claw, even if said tooth and said claw were largely stuffed and put on the walls for admirers. "Why do you ask?"

GM Jack was clenching the outboard motor in a vexatious mood, frowning. "What did you say?" he asked Kimo, suspiciously, his vexation doubling. Whatever was going on in his head, it seemed it was a private matter and his response was a reflexive aggression. "Another lady?" asked Dr Sanchez, becoming nervous, throwing the Captain an almost frightened glance. Whatever feats and suspicions they had, they were soon distracted. With a slop of water and green scum, something poked its head over the side of the boat. It was a snake, and not one that could be recognised. It was, however, large, with tiny black eyes and a brown and green skin that looked blotched and ugly. Its was thicker than Kimo's thigh, and must have stretched twenty feet into the depths. Snakes always look malevolent, but this one had an unfathomable studious look to it.

Initiative: 1d20+3 4 Round 1: 13 KK: Unharmed, HP 1 4 Snake, Unharmed Rosa and Jack are probably largely out of this, but I will give them an initiative of 10 if need be,

Starshot "Ravaged worm sounds good. Slow roasted on a camp fire maybe?" he smiled back at Mazer. He felt warmth for her. Often, his guests infused him with a contained irritation. But, her excessive enthusiasm aside, she had a glow about her. He scratched his scar absently, something he did when in thought, or with a warm woman. "I have seen plenty of the galazy. Even further on occasion. It's a big place. Somehow I remember the claws and teeth most..." he answered. It was trye; the sentient species of the galaxy blurred in his memory. But perhaps the Xobron was worth talking to. At least he wasn't carrying a rifle or a sword like the other hunters. "Stay right there and don't shoot anything" he said to Mazer. "At least, not yet..." He strode towards the Xobron, not saying anything, but trying to see what he was typing...

Sounds interesting and congratulations for taking the gm plunge. Ill offer Red Rat or Lord Steam as possibilities, the latter being lower PL but detective master. If Bloody Mess gets approved in time he might be an even better fit.

Starshot The Xeno had docked at the Lodge. Gunmonkey was banned from leaving. As far as Starshot was concerned, the Lodge was enough trouble as it was. But he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He had hunted below, and taken well paid thrill seekers to its challenging terrain. Hmph...most regretted it.... But despite the beauty of the place, despite its magnetism, it had a murky side. Perhaps he even enjoyed the murky side himself, a bitter self reflection that left his sick of himself. And what better way to deal with that semi-conscious self-loathing than projection? Attack someone who was far worse than he. A poacher and smuggler that ignored all rules without apparent conscience. He was a safari hunter first, but bounty hunter too. The problem was, the Lodge was a place he would like to keep on good terms with, and Clinton Cain was under the protection of the Lodge at least to some degree. It was a nasty situation that had nailed a scowl to his mouth and forehead. In mean mood, he walked slow and hard to the main common chamber for once ignoring the magnificent trophies. Worn jacket over his shoulders and whip by his belt, but Gun left behind. He didn't want to look like he had come for a fight. But he was happy to look like he wouldn't run from one either.

Cool potatoes. To keep things kind of interesting and also to look relatively unthreatening but tough, he is leaving behind his gun, helmet, and most of his equipment, just bringing his jacket, whip, a few thermal pellets and sedative injector.

GM The mind of the Captain was a curious beast. It was like trying to grasp dense and clinging fog. Yet for all its drowse, shapes could be seen. Bitter...the lost of his hand. The memory of a machete falling on it and the black oblivion of pain that followed. Rage....from bitterness flowed revenge. Fear....the huts ahead. Something wicked in them. Vague memories of delerium, of fever. Of the cruel men inside, of the man with the machete. Regret...of the woman he could not save from their cruelty. As for the huts themselves, there were two men inside, one who was verging on giant, well over six feet and nearer seven. He could also a see a beaten up boat in bad condition, with oars and an outboard motor of unimpressive nature that bobbed in the green scum next to them.

He can't make that save so I shall post accordingly (as well as the house occupants). Meanwhile, could you make an initiative roll?

GM A queue formed behind him, of the same character but same heterogeneous nature. Ahead, the queue shuffled forward. It was not long before he was in the reception, the couple in front dishing out what looked to be more than the official entrance price, and getting in without fuss. There were two at the door. An middle aged asian gentleman dressed in a black turtleneck with hands that looked like a pugilists and lips that said not a word. He took the money. In matters of speech he deferred to an extremely tall albino woman who was dressed in a deep purple gown. She was not beautiful, but she was striking. Perhaps 6 and a half feet tall, wearing jet black glasses that indicated at least some, if not total, blindness, and wearing a nose on her face that seemed to sniff the sweat and timbre of everyone coming through. She smirked enigmatically at John. "Welcome to the Bad Beat. Knock em dead, Handsome!" she told him, waiving any charge.

GM There was something strange. In the water. With the eyes of Peunui, it could be seen. Something slithering beneath the green growth of the still waters. Something arcane, or at least spiced with Eldritch. It was a snake. A serpent. It swam deep, silent, and invisible to all but Peunui. It somehow seemed at home in this dreary, soporific marsh that seemed more and more twisted with every yard. As if they had entered...well...a locus. Dr Sanchez snapped away another two blood suckers, feeling hot, sweaty, and slightly ill. "We should see it. I hope we don't have to spend a second longer in this place than we have to. I feel anaemic already....God knows what these bugs are carrying!" "Something up ahead" said a drowsy Captain hammer, clenching his fist and prosthesis in a writhing agitation. He nodded towards a slightly rotten and crumbling set of huts, which were fairly well made of green tinged wood, build half on stilts, half in the water. A small fire could be seen. And something was circling, more restlessly by the second, below, circling the ship with more speed and malice...

Synth NOT good. The slightly disconcerting thought arose. Where AEGIS, either wittingly or unwittingly, in on this? It was not impossible or even implausible. They were embroiled in super human activity, were they not? It was not inconceivable that meant research. Counter measures, control measures. It was possible that Williams and Knight were manipulating AEGIS, or the other way round. Possibly both, simulatenously. Perhaps it was not likely. But the more he stewed on it, the less he could get even the possibility out of his head. Which meant... He strolled casually towards them. "Evening. No sign of trouble? Anything I can do to help?" he asked, boldly.

Synth Dr Jason Hull...this was surely all webbed together, but now the threads are clearer... He couldn't pick the locks, unfortunately, but even the sign was telling. And strangely reassuring; this was not merely a demented paranoia caused by implanted memories and super sensitivity to human experimentation. Or, for that matter, by insidious concussive symptoms after a few blows to the head. It was time to put his face, in all its doppelganger glory, to good use. Instead of wasting time, and probably without any fruit, trying to effect entry into the offices, he turned about and headed to the voices he heard. Boldly, confidently, as if he owned the place. Perhaps, in a manner of speaking, he did own it.

GM At the Bad Beat It was a little smaller than one might expect, and sunken half below street level. One could almost smell smokey wood and red wine stains outside. Other than a certain antiquity of building, a modest sign, and the suggestive aroma, it was otherwise easy to miss. Bar the queue outside. It was not long, but it was there. Some talked, laughed, smoked. Many were at least mildly intoxicated, and one might well guess (and guess correctly) intoxicated not just with alcohol. It attracted an eclectic mix of rich and poor, old, young, criminal, and artistic. At the end of the queue was a woman in her fourties dressed as if she was in her twenties but living in the thirties. She appeared high on life and said intoxicants, and thus spoke a bit too loudly; "Poor Amber, I bet she's next in the dumpster haha!" she laughed with tears. "Shut your lips" snapped her boyfriend, or perhaps husband, a heavy set man with the scars of a Cheshire grin. The queue was moving forward reasonably quickly, it would not be long before John was in, or at least by the reception.

Capt Hammer isn't actually bluffing; being genuine (at least, right now). Seems a bit tense and perhaps a bit drowsy or hypnotised, but not in a full out mind controlled way, just that kind of dreamy trance one can get driving down a motorway or the like. With super senses active, please make a notice roll DC 15