Supercape

Thanks, KK!

The "Soldier" cannot beat that, so out of the plane you both go, tumbling through the air! And the soldier cant fly!

Snakebite In Finding your teeth On the fifth day, the fever broke. Those days had been full of sweat and delirium, dreams of jungles and strange night skies full of unfamiliar stars. Several times, the doctors and nurses had been fearful for Cassandra Crow’s life as they struggled to keep her temperature up, or temperature down. The Crow family could afford for the best of care, although their relationships were not always pleasant. It had not gone unnoticed that a few choice members had been hovering around Cassandra’s bed with a glint of glee, hoping that some of the Crow’s byzantine inheritance laws my bless them upon her passing. A month ago, Cassandra Crow had been deep in Amazonian Jungle, exploring the unexplored. She had located a golden snake head, about the size of a fist, with glittering emerald eyes and a malign serpents grin. Worth a fortune, to be sure, but it was glory not dollars that motivated Cassandra Crow. Caressing her prize, she heard a click… and two golden fangs stabbed into her hand. If it was simply a matter of a few scars on the back of her hand, there the story would have ended. But each fang contained a shot of ancient and Eldritch poison. Her temperature rose, her tongue coarsened and swelled. Her eyes darkened and pierced the dark. The poison was crawling around her arteries, into her muscles and skin, changing her. And quite possibly killing her. To get back to the Amazonian river boat was a feat of endurance that she would have, a day before, considered impossible, beyond human flesh. Lying in the boat, convulsing, shaking, was an agony she would rather forget. And then, descent into a coma, until she awoke five days ago in a Hospital in London. And now, the fever had broke. She could sit on her bed, she could even walk, clutching onto her IV drip strand like a crutch. Sleep – yes, sleep. She could sleep twenty hours a day and still feel tired. But no longer was her temperature spiking. No more mysterious cold fevers. It was, as the doctors said, as if her blood could not decide whether she was hot blooded or cold blooded. All in all, she was a mystery. Her blood tests, only now resolving, were impossible to understand, and should have killed her. The ascribed her ongoing life to Ms. Crow’s remarkable fitness, what with her being an explorer used to climbing, hiking, and swimming through the harshest of Earth’s terrains. Maybe that was true, but Cassandra Crow suspected other forces were at play. The Crow family were as wealthy as you could be, thanks to good fortune. But fortune was a fickle and two sided beast. Curses, Hex’s, supernatural bad luck – these too came with the Crow Raven Hair and Crow hooked nose. The Golden Snake Head had sensed something in her, it had smelled the Crow blood, and it had attacked! “Uuurgh….” It was a groan of livid arteries, of pounding head. Pain that morphine had muffled but not removed. Her mother and sister were at the bedside. Caring, in that Crow way. Obscured, mysterious, even narcissistic caring, but caring all the same. And Cassandra would rather have them there than some of the more obnoxious and machevellian characters in the more distant part of the family. “How long?” she asked. “Too long…” said her mother, he black crow hair tied, harshly, to the back of her head. “We feared the worst, you rapscallion! Although… I would not have my daughters any other way. You get poisoned, your sister falls of mountains. Tsk! Better a day a lion, eh?” “Or a snake…” muttered Cassandra. There followed more days in hospital, more mysterious medicine. And then a trip to the Crow family manor once she was healthy enough. In some ways, the doctors told her, she was suspiciously too healthy. They were not wrong. A couple more weeks, and Cassandra was riding, swimming and running through the grounds of the Manor. She was always athletic, her long limbs used to the strain of hiking and exploring. But now she rode harder, she swam faster, and she ran for longer than ever before. Her strength was beyond her frame – tight, hot muscles able to lift a motorcycle above her head (yes, she tried). And speed, yes – faster than before, able to balance and leap like a cat competing for the cat Olympics in agility. Cassandra could feel her body writhe, stretch and bend like rubber. Like a cat. Like a snake. And then, there were the teeth. They manifested – with an sharp electrical pain – when Cassandra was running through the nearby woods and was startled by an irritable fox. No threat, neither before her transformation or, much less so, after it, but enough to cause that little flux of adrenaline. Her canines elongates – subtle, maybe half an inch or most, but quite the shock nonetheless. And the bitter taste of poison at their tips. What was she? The answer surely lay in books. And the Crow family had plenty of dusty tomes in the library. Books of history, archeology, certainly. And darker, eldritch, arcane tomes of pre-history and mythology. Books documenting – in crazed words – the worlds of Atlantis, Lemuria, the lost world. And even, in some particularly hushed and warped words, of the yellow sign. But even these were not enough. Cassandra turned to the British library, pulling strings to get the most obscure and forbidden texts. She spent her days away from sunshine, in the depths of the library, in a private and dusty reading room, poring over yellow paper. At least, it was usually paper. Sometimes it was hide. Sometimes it was skin. There it was: Lodged between a scrawled (in blood?) ramble on the sixty six dimensions of the silver chair, and an alleged spell to bind the third eyes of the unspeakable one. A note on the golden skull of Lemuria, its poison deadly to all but those with snake blood. A ritualistic device to prove one was a true snake person. And Cassandra Crow had survived the bite. Survived the poison. It made her blood run as cold as a lizards. Her sweat felt icy, her tongue felt bloated. Something was very wrong with the Crow family line. Something… inhuman. Somehow, they were not mere homo sapien, but something else. Maybe not material, maybe not genetic. But somehow, in aeons past, the Crow family had taken something of the Lemurian people. Perhaps this explained their strange fortunes, their mystic eyes, the family legacy littered with witches, shamans, sorcerers and oracles. Cassandra Crow was a snake? Then so be it. An enigmatic and twisted smile creased the corner of her lips. There was more work to be done. As Snakebite.

GM "You pathetic fools have no chance against my electrical electricity!" yelled down General Sparks, carressing the turret as if it was a lover. the tip of the barrel was glowing white hot, and steam hissed from the weapons innards. Once again General Sparks pressed the trigger of the fierceome weapon, only to be greeted with the beep of an alarm. "Admittedly," he conceded it a more muted, more vexed tone, "the overheating is a bit of an issue. But once I electrocute my top scientists to motivate them with painful pain, I am sure they will have the necessary motivation to iron out the problems, and revere me as their beloved leader. Nay! Thank me for torturing them! Yes!" He pressed the trigger a few more times - just feeble sparks. But, the tip of the weapon was cooling down fast!

GM The mighty torrent of water slammed open the doors of the "factory". That was the thing about water - it was heavy and it was powerful, and Tsunami had it in the palm of her hand. It was under control. However, chaos was still afoot. Chemicals were seeping into the water at an alarming rate. The ground level staff were screaming, some of them getting washed out of the building. And the four men - dressed in (now sodden wet) black suits were - with remarkable agility - standing utop heavy metal machines, knives drawn. And Mr Silk himself? Was starting to mumble as he floated, slowly following the water which would take him out of the building. Not yet awake - but not quite so solidly knocked out...

Thats fine - post that And its probably worth an HP for getting knocked out and heroically catching! Leaving you with 4 HP!

Ok sorry for delay Iiris has ff up so her Toughness save is increased to 12 which is still a fail by 15, so she is knocked out (unless you reroll with an HP) Daniel foes much better, passing his reflex roll and thus reducing tough save to DC 22. With forcefield up, thats a tough save of 11 which is bruised and dazed. Golden Star shrugs off the electricity Can @Ponchoand @Dracosternmake IC posts and (if you wish, Draco, reroll Iiris toughness). You can also post IC and OC your responses.

Gamma Buzz "Gee! Carried away like a baby!" said Gamma Buzz. "I mean, I have only slightly completely dislocated my leg, its nothing, honestly. I can probably walk just fine on one leg." Baltazar grasped his dislocated hip in agony. "And it's not at all painfull. I'm not wincing, lets be clear. I just thought this was a great time to fit in my daily face-muscle exercises. And i'm not crying with pain, either. All this movement, I just got a bit of dust in my eye...." He wiped away his glowing green tears. "And screw these monsters, anyhow. They need a taste of... GAMMA VISION!" With a frown of anger, he screwed up his eyes (more) and unleashed a furious pain of glowing green laser beams directly at the nearest drone!

Can Baz blast something with Laser vision from that angle? If so, taking a 10 to blast nearest minion (DC 23 Tough)

Yeah I always assume ff is up in any stress situation (possible exception being suprised)

So basically Area of effects: You make a reflex save (DC is 10+Power rank) to half the rank of the effect Evasion 1 means if you make the reflex save you avoid the effect alltogether Evasion 2 means than in addition to Evasion 1 if you fail the save its still half effect. Once you have that out of the way (In this case its a Damage 12 effect so the Reflex save is 22) You make the Toughness Save at 15+Power Rank In other words, a DC 27 Tough Save BUT if you made the Reflex Save the Power Rank is halved, so you make a 15+6=21 Toughness Save Fail by 1+ - Bruised Fail by 5+ - Bruised and Dazed for 1 round, and knockback Fail by 10+ Dazed, knockedback, Staggered (or Knocked out if already Staggered) Fail by 15+ As above plus Knockout.

Echohead Echoheads buzzed. Normally he would have closed his eyes to help him focus on the sensations in his cranium. However, he was being carried by Predator and if he closed his eyes he would get motion sickness from the bouncing and flying. He didn't want to throw up over the power armour. "I can feel something..." he explained to Predator. "All the... Dennis Deacons. Its like... like a hive mind. Absolutely identical... like they all share one brain. And... and something behind them all. Like a puppetteer..." "I don't know if thats good news or bad news. Its probably both. But I thought I should tell you..." With the sound of the panciked voice, Echohead piped up again. "We are absolutely heere to help! Whats the problem?" We are here to try to help, he thought. Whether they could or not... that was another matter that he swallowed down his throat and let fungate in his stomach.

To Start with - a Spray of Electric Bolts from General Sparks manning the Gun. this is a Damage 12 Area effect (cone) So DC 22 Reflex (To 1/2 damage - Evasion applies) DC 27 Damage effect (or 21 if Reflex save) To C, C and GS

14 for Gen Sparks Round 1: 14 G Sparks - Unharmed 13 Cerebral - Unharmed - 3 HP 7 - Golden Star - Unharmed 2 Cerberllum - Unharmed - 1 HP

GM The shoulder had the same fantastic speed and strength of "Doctor North". Fast, furious, born of adrenaline and superheated flesh. The "Private" must have had his metabolism racing off the scales. He threw Predator off-almost casually-with a twist and swing of his arm. "Down!" he mumbled. "Down down down down. Crash!" The voice and thoughts were rapidly degrading into total incoherence. Preadtor couldn't get a hold of the private, but she could feel the skin. Pyrexial to the point of lethality. No simple human flesh could survive that internal temperature-at least not for long. So hot she could feel the muscles fasciculating as they simultanously flexed their power and degraded. The Private kicked open the cockpit door like it was cardboard, crumpling the metal. The two pilots looked back in alarm. In but a moment, the private had slammed their heads together, knocking them both out. They were still descending - but their was nobody at the wheel.

31 in response... so you dont need to burn that HP at least (you can burn HP as a reaction so only worth it if your grapple hits) Can you post attempt IC and we can go from there. Also notice (tactile) DC 10 to spot

No probs - could you roll me an attack roll? The "private" is flat footed at the moment, defence 15

Diamondlight Diamondlight took a step or two back, involountary fear driving his body whilst his eyes gazed at the monster before him. "You don't see that every day..." he whispered, somewhat subdued in tone, with a raised eyebrow. Despite his cool exterior, he could feel his heart pumping adrenaline into his muscles, feel the sweat soaking into his shirt. It felt cold, like his skin. But he propelled himself out of his fear. This was a moment for action, not lamentation or indecision. In a flash, he was right by the monster, slicing across with a laser blade of silver-blue energy that flared with the swing, with the impact. And in another flash he was back where he started, eyes focussed, laser blade brought behind him, ready to swing back if need be...

Diamondlight is going to teleport to the monstrosity, strike it with a laser blade, and then (with turnabout feat), teleport (yo yo style) back to his original position. 26 which I suspect (and hope!) hits. If so, a DC 26 Tough Save (Dazzle) and a DC 21 Reflex Save (Visual Dazzle)

GM "5 minutes to landing..." came the call. The snoozing private started shaking violently. "Godamn it, he's having a seizure!" roared the concerned captain rushing over. In but a heartbeat he was flung across the aircraft interior, collapsing in a heap against the dented fusilage. Jean recognised the seizure, the sweat, the drool. Just the same as the so-called Doctor North. The private stood up, veins on his necks taught like wire, pulsing, eyes bulging, red. And in a flash, the private was racing into the cockpit... Just as the plane started its descent...

Can we have initiative rolls, @Dracosternand @Poncho?

GM General Sparks raised his sparking fist and shook it at the heroes far below him. "I AM AN ENORMOUS MOUNTAIN OF GORGONZOLA, SCUM! YOU WILL NOT FIND A BIGGER CHEESE IN THE UNIVERSE. FOR I, AND ONLY I, HAVE THE POWER OF ELECTRICITY!" The heavens rumbled. A storm was about to break. "YOU CANNOT IMAGINE MY UNIMAGINABLE... POW....ER!" The first drops of the storm hit he heroes. A second later, there was a downpour! And to add to the rain, a rolling wave of lightning bolts rained down from General Sparks turret!

Echohead could copy acrobatics but has the "calibration needed" complication... as Jean is very different physically it would take Jim time to pract8ce the skill in new body. Would be a fun complication to put into action?

GM Outside the tower From waaaaay above, and the very tip of the tower, a figure could be seen, floating in the air. General Sparks himself! His costume was a ragged, and his was emitting furious... well, furious sparks. "ANARCHISTS!" he said, pointing below him to the three heroes with a flared glove. He swooped down slightly, and manned one of the huge cannons that looked like it had been designed by a 50s Sci Fi costume designer after imbibing some mushrooms for creative purposes. Glowing cyan rings, black fins, beeping lights. And from the gun a shower of electric bolts started raining down on them! And now, the tower was really creaking. It looked like it might topple at any moment...

GM The Captain gave out a warm laugh. "Lower budget costs. That always goes down well with the brass!" The private gave an unpleasant snort, rolled to one side in an uncomfortable position, sweat on his brow. "They splash out on a plane, and send me some idiot soldier..." sighed the Captain. "Looks like he would be as much use in a fight as a sardine sandwich," he frowned. "Back in my day cut soldiers from steel... huh..." The Captain was probably late thirties. Not that old. Still in shape, but with lines and creases that told Jean he had been in battle. The speakers crackled with a message from the pilot. "Making last descent. Its chilly and windy, and a touch of snow. So buckle up!" The private snorted once again, muscles tense.