Supercape

Flintlock quite fancied the Tropical Island Snow Globe. She made a mental note to come back and acquire it. Possibly even via the medium of money. She decided, on balance, that she would start with the harbour. It was, perhaps, the area least likely to reap rewards, but still, she was most familiar with them, being close to the sea. She could only suspect, from what Cik haid said, that the slaves would arrive by boat. Taken captive at sea, brought here. It would not be easy, even under cover of night and storm, to smuggle people. It was not easy with inanimate cargo. More so, the risk, when people shuffled, screamed, and could run at any moment. It was a long shot, perhaps, but their might be words spoken. There might be suspicious ships, or suspicious crates. Perhaps signs of secret paths, perhaps signs of struggles, of misery. Or perhaps just simple cargo, simple boats, and simple people. One could never tell!

Strong waves, something more elemental about them in the strange astral plane. Like they were alive, and, more so, full of life and energy. Still, nothing that the Black Flag could not cut through, silent and sleek. How lands had changed, even in the last few decades. It seemed to her that the pace of change was ever accelerating. Where would it lead? Could it change faster still, accelerating to...what? She counted herself lucky she had not the gift, or curse, of foresight. So far, so astral. At least the beach seemed quiet. A pirate ship might even go unnoticed. Onwards she sped, knowing that time was on her side, towards the centre of Dungan. She did not not exactly what she looked for. But she had seen crooks aplenty; and thieves too. Even in Singapore, one could not operate such horrors openly, surely? No, she would look for something rundown, subtle, innocuous...

Captain Flintlock studied the maps. She had old parchment, half rotted. She had slightly mouldy paper maps. And she had bright new printed maps. She preferred the old ones. But that was because she was sentimental. The reality was that despite their charm, the maps of the Black Flag were old, out of date, sometimes unreadable, and sometimes so aged that they fell apart, crumbling to dust as soon as one looked at them. So, sentiment aside, it was the modern maps. It would not be long until the Black Flag set anchor near the town. She pondered the matter carefully, tapping finger to chin. She was not one to use sorcery lightly. It was not that it was intoxicating; although she did not care for witches and warlocks who enjoyed the use of power muchly. No it was the thought that whenever the walls between this world and the others were parted, there were always cracks that would never heal. The more cracks, the more something could get through. Leastways, that was how her dark arts seemed to work. But still, there was use in them. Slinging herself on a hammock in her quaint wooden quarters. She closed her eyes, and fell into a trance, mumbling some unnerving words that seemed half Latin, half Greek, and half something altogether different and altogether nasty. And with that, her astral body swam through the ether, pale and ghostly, invisible to the eye, and towards Dungun. She would take a look around in the astral plane...

"A ship I have, and I fine one too..." said Flintlock proudly. "I dare say the fastest ship in Singapore, right now!" "She cuts through waves quick and true. Black she is, and black her crew Her sails are torn and ragged Her mast is straight and flagged Silent and fast Ne'er be last The Black Flag will swing no lead, The Black Flag will see no sea bed, For her crew are lively, but, cor blimey, Her crew are also de---" She stopped, looking at her three crewmates. "Say, how do you feel about zombies?" she asked Cik.

GM "Ya think?" replied Tin Hat, adjusting his name sake. A touch of sarcasm drifted into his voice. Flash beams approached down the sewers. "Yup, they are here! Get ready to get shot! Ay! It's not death I'm scared of, you see. Its the bit just before death..." gulped Jack, who didn't know which way to turn. "Hehehe..." cackled Deadbolt. "I'm not ready to die. I may look dead, but I'm not. Survival, its the ultimate human drive!" cackled Deadbolt. "You see, its a great name for me. I thank you for that. But its not just because I turned keys. Its not just because I am dead..." he explained, slowly, his eyes glazed with madness. "Its because the virus...it doesn't just make you mad. It is energy. If you activate it. Thought becomes action. Will becomes power. And intent becomes motion..." With that, he bolted upright, as quick as a blink of an eye. And then he blurred. Fast, faster still. Faster than any human, like a rocket. His legs seemed to hardly move. It was more that he propelled himself. Like a bullet. Away from Neutron, and down uncharted and dark sewer tunnels..

Thats entirely up to players; either as secret ID or not. Possibly even as both if they want to dash in and out!

Mulling this over in my head; Ive used the High Steaks in a couple of threads. Its a Freedom City restaurant and gambling joint for those with money, and an exclusive club for the rich and powerful. Its also used to be run by vampires. I'm thinking of running a social thread, as its taken over by new management. By "Social" I don't mean just meet and greet, flash cash, etc. If run, it will be about social conflicts, gossip, networking, antagonism, charm, seduction, and even perhaps some card playing (and/or cheating). I.e. Some clash, but no combat. If you fancy getting membership at the new club, then bring your best clothes and spend money. Plus, be charming, beautiful, and powerful. Or better still, all three... Still mulling this over; I'n not particularly good (or perhaps interested) in regular social threads, but I am always up for experimenting a bit. Plus, I would quite like to try "running" a regular NPC (the new owner), as a non-combat orientated character. For those that know "Wild Cards", I have (vaguely), the "Aces High" restaurant run by Hiram Worcester in mind; although blended with "Casino Royale" Bond, and a little touch of Las Vegas.

Just roleplaying Flintlocks general reluctance to use her sorcery a little. Of course, if there is a "safe" avenue to take, she will take it. But if needs be, its Astral Form time! Hopefully a map and some hints will allow her to scout out things using that power. Just a heads up as to thinking!

"Dungun?" It had been some time since she was in Singapore, and memory was hazy. She should have bought a guide book. Should have studied some maps. Ah! She had driven the Black Flag too fast. Or, she had been too drunk. "Ah yes, Dungun! I know it well!" she declared, firmly, confidently. Flintlock felt a suspicion that Cik was not a sole operative. She looked at her "friends" too often. Still, she would, one would presume, at least have some authority on the matter. She appeared to be making decisions. Blast it! Flintlock was operating in strange and unfamiliar waters. Time to admit defeat. "Well, you are as slippery as a fish and vague as a fog. You surely know Singapore better than I. Cease throwing me problems that I cannot solve. You want money? you want freedom? Tell me what would you do, if you where I?" "And someone get me a map! One of them electronic things if ye must!" she added. There was sorcery to do, if Cik could not come up with an avenue...

That is a hit. Tin Hats Grapple Check is: Grapple Roll vs Echo: 1d20+10 18 So you have him well and truly pinned. Id say post that, and your speech, and lets take it from there? Stuff will surely happen!

GM "There ain't any where safe! Don't you get it? The C-Beams? THE C-BEAMS! They are getting through!" he yelled, furious, clutching at his tin foil hat and grimacing. "Gotta get him! Stop him!" he finished, giving a wild swing at Echo. He was a tough guy, but unbalanced - in more ways than one, and swung wide. Grunting, he tried to barge past Echo. Again, he was a strong man. He must have been near forty. It was hard to tell in the dark, and harder still to see through the years of filth and hard living he must have had to endure. But whatever his age, he was tall and wide, and his limbs had a solidity to them. But he was not fast, and not agile, and his rage made him clumsy. He was almost sobbing as he stumbled around. "PLEASE! STOP THE C-BEAMS!" he yelled at Echo.

Echo - 1 HP - Unharmed Tin Hat will take a swing at you: Smashes Echo out of the way.: 1d20+6 22 And miss! So going to play a bit loose with initiative right now as its very mixed up with actual social conflict. Missing, he will try to barge past you, so opposed STR rolls: Barges past: 1d20+4 5 I...am pretty sure that means you stay firm. So you can act again!

"Both, then..." answered the bold Cap'n Flintlock. "If ye know where they keep their administration, the books, the maps, the brains. Then from their we can find where their treasure is, and go hunting!" she explained. "Best two chop off two heads, not just one. Destroy the books, steal the treasure. And, as added bonus, ye can keep the treasure. Help buy back some lives" she said. "I never stole for the gold. I stole for the rum. And to keep me head above water. I've little need for money now. Ye can keep it. Although me will be keeping any rum we find!" she said. "If they have a base of operations, then, let us go and lop of that head. Then, their money!"

"There is never any victory that lasts for ever. No conflict that is not eternal. And yet, though all must end and all is mortal, though oblivion the only certainty, one must never let defeat overwhelm us. Never let life slip through paralysed fingers!" replied Flintlock, defiantly. "Else, you would not do what you do. Else, I would not do what I will. So, come now, let us live. I'll gladly let loose black powder and witchcraft on slavers. It won't change the world, aye. Few do, and few still for the good. Let us forget about the world, then, and think about our selves. We are all selfish, in the end. We do what we feel is right, because we are driven down that stream..." "And besides, are you speaking of buried treasure?" she laughed with joy. "Places on land, where they bring their haul! Those were your words. Sounds like buried treasure to me! Do you have a map?"

"I seen plenty of lashes and plenty of scurvy. The sea is not a kind mistress, but she beauty still" answered Flintlock. "But like it or no, 'tis a brutal world. And the navy will be coming looking for thieves and pirates. Surely, would be no match for me and the Black Flag, me ship, but then again, I don't steal cargo. These days. Very often" she said, mulling her words. Sometimes the modern age seemed crazier than the world centuries ago, but it was, she conceded, generally safer and kinder. "I'm not going to stop you from helping, like Robin Hood. But I cannot condone it either. I'll let ye be. But I cannot simply sail to the horizons. I cannot leave Singapore. Something happened at that black market, and however you look at it, I'm part of the tapestry now" she explained. "And what ye talking about, its Slavery. And that, my little slippery fish friend, is something Captain Flintlock won't have. I neither will my crew. Tell me where to look, I'll look. Tell me where to go, I'll go..." Her countenance grew grim, like a maudlin drunk. "And tell me where to strike, I'll do that too..."

Sure. Tin Hat is technically flat footed so his defence will be low. You could try a disarm, sunder, or grapple. or, if you are being more direct, a straightforward punch him out. It would be reasonable to try and just interject yourself in between the two - it would probably give you a chance to intimidate or bluff, or even make a diplomacy roll at -10 for the time it would take, but does raise the risk of a cudgel to the face!

Slavery was a trigger word for Flintlock. She had seen the real thing; as brutal and nasty a thing as ever man had conceived, and that was stiff competition. Bah, the sun of the modern day did indeed shine brightly for liberty. "Then ye be a robin hood? Aye, I'll drink to that. The hungry are never thieves, even if they take without permission. Are ye saying the blight on Singapore are the freaks?" She had no way of knowing if Cik was telling the truth, but, blast it, she couldn't disbelieve her. Her blood boiled at the mere mention of Slavery. Some of the Skeleton Crew had been slaves, and bore the marks. "Lash", the shipwright, had a network of livid scars on his back. She did not blame him for his acquired brutality, for he had endured far worse than he ever dished out. "There's more to this than meets me eye, I wager. Tell me about them? I've no quarrel with ye..."

GM Whilst Tin Hat, and, for that matter, Deadbolt, both seemed to suffer delusions of a wide and varied nature, there was in this case something to get deluded about. The space, and maybe the time, and maybe other dimensions around Deadbolt seem to distort every now and again, not often, and hard to notice. Like a tic, or spasm. Nothing severe, just a swimming of perceptions. And this was making the already sensitive Tin Hat more and more agitated. He gripped his cudgel firmly, and hopped from foot to foot. "I don't like you, man. Your dead. Like a zombie. And, I'm getting something...I can feel you screwing with my brain! Are you screwing with my brain???" he asked, violently. "Uh-oh..." muttered Jack. "No, no man, I'm cool, honest. I'm not screwing with ya brain!" replied Deadbeat, eyes looking dead and crazy and dead crazy. "Screw you! Your a doctor! Try to lock me up, and beam my head! Well I ain't gonna let ya! Not again! I'm gonna peel off your skull and show you want brains look like!" he screamed, terror and fury gripping him. With that, he raised his cudgel ready to smash Dead Bolts skull to a pulp. He looked strong enough to do it... Jack had been lost in concentration, hearing through the ether. He snapped back to the frightening scene developing from him. "Neutron are coming!" he gulped to Echo, his face white.

Theft...on this scale...this rankled Flintlock. She had few qualms about the odd bit of thievery. She would be a hypocrite to do so. But this was on a grand scale. She frowned deeply, and pressed her fingers to her forehead. "I...don't want to know. I came here to stop the theft. And now I have her" she said, almost ready to summon up the horror again, or something worse. "And yet, I smell something worse than simple cargo theft. I smell black markets, extortion, gangs of freaks. Like you say. I'm not the police, or the army..." "I'm something much worse" she said darkly, black lines appearing on her eyes. "And for much worse things than you I was made for. So, my friend. What was that cargo, and who bought it? I swear by the thirteen moons of Alhazred, I won't throw you to the law. I should clean up Singapore first!"

"Thief! Witch! Pirate!" She paused, considering. "But enough of your good qualities. How did you do that?" Could be sorcery, could be witchcraft. Could be some of this newfangled science things. Much talk on the seas, and the land for that matter, of the wond'rous things science could do. Bah! Day was, when electricity seemed miraculous. Now, the earth teamed with it, like some stormy infection. Flintlock preferred her electricity shot from dark skies amidst a monsoon. "And, more importantly, why? What was that cargo, and why did you need it?"

So you can take the Count down easily (he is light). Wesley too, if you are so inclined, although he is significantly heavier. For reference, it will be dim light down the hole. -5 to all notice and perception checks. You may wish to make an Earth Sciences Knowledge Roll, and a History Knowledge Roll.DC 20 for each (trained only), but as Presto has Eidetic Memory, you can still try!

GM The feeble Count nodded, his skin seemed to distort around his face. Like something was crawling. "I fear...I am weak...curses...at least...I will not burden you unduly..." he whispered, faintly. In this, the Count was correct. He looked so feeble and thin that a stiff breeze might snap him in two. "When you are ready....my....servant will wait here. In case there is...trouble...." The Russian was a picture of stony faced impassivity. He held his gun firmly, but not so firmly that one might mistake him as an amateur. "I dealing with trouble" he intoned, like falling lumps of lead. Wesley wiped his brow. No matter how many times he wiped it, it was wet. Not just from the heat. "I'm in way over my head...but if you want me to come down there. Ill come..." he gulped. Down there was not so dark, and not so far. Lights had been set up. It looked as safe as one could hope for, anyway, and the Count was indeed most light to carry...

Theft was part of Flintlocks history. She wouldn't condone it, but frankly, she had bigger fish to fry that petty thievery. So be it. Honesty was not on her usual menu, but it could serve its purpose at times. "Because some cargo went missing in Singapore. In the blink of an eye. Normally, I don't much mind a bit of piracy..." The atmosphere still for a moment, as if a lens was focusing on her costume. "...but when it vanishes like that, something is up. Someone is either very clever, or very powerful. Either way, could be trouble. And not trouble of the fun sort, either. I have me questions; who stole it? what was it?" she said, the questions still honestly burning her belly. "And I mean to find out. Aye, I know you are probably only interested in getting the wolves from your door, perhaps just interested in getting rich quick. you certainly have the legs of a thief. But this is beyond gold and silver. Something like that happens, it could take a chunk out of Singapore. And you with it" she explained. "I sailed many seas, not just of this world. I stole more gold and silver than you, let me tell you. And I did it back in the days they hung people until they shivered their last breath. There may be no honour amongst thieves, but consider this. If a rapscallion like meself be bothered, then so should you!"

"Infected? I hope not" muttered Deadbolt through cracked, grey lips. It looked like the wasted flesh might peel from his face at any moment. "Before I left, I gave my self a bath in C-beams. Should have killed me. The virus is now inert, and I...." he looked at his dead flesh, and for the first time, a sense of horror at his own actions might have crawled into him. "I've spent twenty years studying the virus. I probably know more about it, or at least as much about it, as anybody else. Its unique, hard to kill, impossible to treat, but fortunately, not particularly easily transmitted either" he said, trying to be reassuring. Admittedly, from a zombie mouth that was not very reassuring. "Your friend there has got the right idea...don't want to pick up on the transmissions?" he said, referring to the increasingly nervous tin hat.

Flintlock was not one to shy from publicity. She was dressed like an antiquated pirate, after all. Still, she should have realised that talking skullduggery was not to be done in public. With a puff of tepid mist, with a puff of horrible rotting aroma, the tentacles evaporated. "Plenty more where that came from" she said, sternly, hands on hip. "I'm a fool for trusting you, aren't I?" she asked the thief. "But it's what Ill do anyway. I hope you don't make me look a fool. It will be gaping, gumming maws next time, full of disease, pustules, and slime". She cracked her knuckles. "Come take a stroll then, to the park. Trees don't have ears. And you can tell me everything you know, and, if you fancy my help, exactly how much debt you are, and to whom..."