Supercape
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Casey clambered up, her keenness surpassing her agility. Still, she managed without making a fool of herself. Her pink hair and winning smile proceeded her heavier body however, and she sort of stumbled and tumbled in, squashing the burger. "Satan's ass!" swore Casey, still toxic from the grenade. "The smell here!...what a pigsty! Still, keeps me awake". Shaking her head once more, she started leafing around the interior of the vehicle. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was judgement, but within a few seconds she had found something. "Look! Some scrawled map! of Lantern Hill!" she said, giving Bonfire an aerial photograph of the cemetery and church. A black marker pen had been used, circling a grave, alongside a printed untraceable note. Make sure they don't find this. And for God's sake, burn this note after your read it.
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Cutter searches: Searching for clues: 1d20+6 24!
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Ill presume the Gas Man will be unconscious for a few minutes. There is nothing in the vehicle to notice, but you may wish to make computer or search rolls to scour the interior or the computer. Or whatever else you fancy, Ill roll with!
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The inside of the gasmobile was messy. Guns, knives, hundreds of grenades. And that was just for starters. As far as Bonfire could tell, the turret gun fired a net. The vehicle itself was armour plated with a big engine. Must have used a lot of fuel. Various military equipment, from rations, to maps, to first aid kits, littered, in a rather clutered way, the inside of the vehicle. It was cramped and had a rather lived in smell. A burger lay half eaten on a seat. There was also a number of electronics in the vehicle; a radio, a computer, a GPS, and so on. Scrawled notes, without much in the way of filing (if any at all) littered the vehicle.
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"Wha...whoo...not the elbows!" mumbled Casey as she woke, lost in some meaningless but peculiar drug-induced dream, Still groggy, she held her head in both hands. "What happened? I feel like I could sleep for a week!" she complained, yawning and trying to shake the cobwebs out of her head with limited success. "Scratch the interview...for now...." she added hastily, before continuing. "We just got a bigger story!" She got out her camera and started taking photographs of the Gas Man and his vehicle. "Guess he was sent by Neutron Industries. Probably legit, given how they always stay a knife's edge within the law. Still, using grenades by a church isn't going to win this guy any favours" "And he's left the hatch open!" she said, excitedly, pointing to the vehicle. "Feeling like Sherlock? This bozo may have left a few clues!"
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For record then, Bonfire - 1 HP - Fatigued...
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The Gas Man reeled backwards, clutching his throat and fighting the smoke. "It was...only...knockout...gas...." he wheezed. "Whaddya take me for? I'm a professional...." he whispered, turning slightly blue and passing out. His body danced with a few myoclonic jerks. "Devils! See what they will stoop too? The law, justice, means nothing to them. They buy the law!" spat Marie. In this case, she literally did spit; her saliva landing neatly on the Gas Man's face. A loud and uncouth snoring could be heard as Casey pleasantly swam in unconsciousness.
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That will hit irrespective of feint (which would technically flat foot him rather than surprise him, but irrelevant!) Save vs Suffocation: 1d20+8 15 fails the save. The Gas Man is now Suffocating, which means -1 Attack/Defence/Reflex, and only one action / round. Must also make a DC 10 CON check, which: CON Check vs Suffocation: 1d20+2 3 He spectacularly fails, and drops unconscious. Combat over! I am presuming you dont maintain the suffocation (to cause dying / death) - let me know otherwise - You should probably also roll for the poison effect of Fatigue Fort save vs poison: 1d20+6 21 which Marie makes.
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Post awaaaaay!
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Fort Save: 1d20+8 27 Marie also makes her save. For ease/narrative flow, Casey drops down fast asleep. Initiative INitiative: 1d20+10 16 for the Gasman Initiative vs Gasman: 1d20+4 5 Round 1: 17 - Bonfire - Unharmed - 1 HP 16 - Gasman - Unharmed 5 - Marie - Unharmed Bonfire is up. The gas grenade is full of a sleeping gas poison. This means another Fort Save in round 11 (or after combat).
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"What? with this face, I fit in everywhere, my boy" replied Dr Warp, pulling a face that wobbled in quite the wrong places. He swept his cape dramatically over his body. "Well then, to dear old Club Ice. It sounds rather cool!* Shall I bring my sunglasses?" he asked, his arms and legs starting to warp. "I can be there in a jiffy. Anyone need a ride, I can spare an arm!" he offered, his arms elongating several feet... *
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"There would be worse ways to spend the time" conceded Erasmus. He didn't mind kids, as long as they weren't his own. Both he and his wife never seemed to have any parental drive, which was fortunate in so far as that it had never led to any conflict between them. He could never quite decide if it was more selfish to have children, or to not have them, and concluded it did not matter either way. Everything anyone did was selfish, after a fashion. "Nice book. I heard the butler did it" he said equally wryly in relation to his wife's choice of book. "I think we best get on board soon. I don't want to annoy the flight company any more than I have already. Actually, I probably do want to annoy them, its just I want to get on the plane more. Remind me to buy our own modified plane one day. And to learn how to fly. It would make things a lot easier...."
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Flipped Improved Block for Assessment feat. Ill stick with non lethal ammunition I think; possibly I don't need it, but it does imply that he has both non-lethal (rubber) and lethal (lead) bullets.
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Elephants? This could easily be a stampede. In fact, it was a stampede. As tough as she was, getting trampled by a horde of infernal elephants was not on today's menu - at least as far as she was concerned. Turning heel, she waded effortlessly through the stinking smoke and headed for the trees, all the time keeping up the terrible fumes and awful fog around her. "Hold your nose, Billy!" she shouted, risking her voice. At least in the trees she would not face a wall of elephants together...she hoped.
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Right, moving all out to cover (trees)! keeping the smoke up.
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Buddhist Infernal is the best type of infernal, man! Lost count of how many hellhounds (not enthralled) are left though?
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Fort DC 15 Save please, and you may wish to roll for initiative!
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GM The top of the vehicle popped open, a faint whiff of gas (of some slightly obnoxious disposition) hissed at it did. The top half of a man poked out. A military man, of no doubt. Wearing a beanie, a flak jacket, and loaded with guns, knives and grenades. He had a grizzled look, with white hair in his short beard. "Money. Lots of it" he replied, gruffly, full of defence. From his hand fell a grenade, and with a soft whoomph the scene was filled with a pale white gas...
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Survival is good thought Starshot, unbidden. The dice were to be rolled whatever road they took. He would just make the best of however they fell. He took comfort though - grass or straw - the female was working some type of vegetable matter which meant there was more than sand. He would be dreaming of dunes and grit for weeks, he imagined. And water... Then we are ready and honoured to take the rite. May we be blessed with fortune and fearless in action he said telepathically. "Laark, Soreen, looks like we are facing some beast called Quickdeath. If it is a beast. Just make sure your blasters are charged and ready!"
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Tough Save vs Bite: 1d20+10 18 Bruised again! Out of interest, are the Elephants Infernal (using Infernal detect)
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GM Some shuffling and scuffling of shoes on stone could be heard. Casey and Marie melted to the sides, grateful and vexed respectively. The loudspeaker clicked into gear again. "Do I sound like a drekking reporter?" said the voice, somewhat irritated. "I do a proper job!" Casey could be heard clenching her teeth to the side, even when she made no sound doing so. "I'm not interested in you blubbing your life story, how ya got a sick mama and your daddy left when you wuz a baby. If I wanted to get to know people, I'd join the circus" explained the voice. "No, I joined the marines. Got to know people by shooting them. Great fun. Great days..." "...Hey, why am I telling you about me?" said the voice catching himself. "I'm here to bring you in! Now quit yer yappin' and put yer' hands up! That goes for your green-eyed girlfriend, too!"
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For the sake of a little drama, how about a DC10 Escape Artist Check for Shrike to contort through the door gap? Failure = noticed. Failure by more than 5 = noticed AND doesnt get through!
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GM Meanwhile... "Hmmm, who isssss there?" hissed the tall man. He hissed in a manner which was a little too hissy than normal. He hissed in an exceptionally serpentine fashion. Putting the urn down on the battered leather chair, he cautiously - in a paranoid manner - crept towards the door. One hand dug deep into his pocket, and pulled out an old but impressive revolver. One of those antiques that looked heavy and most probably was. One of those antiques that looked like it fired cannonballs rather than bullets. Creak.... The door opened. "Who is there? Ssssshow yourself!" demanded the tall man, opening the door another inch wider. But was it wide enough???
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"What, this old thing? This is me flintlock!" said an indignant flintlock. "Which is to say, it is named after me. Or I'm named after it. Never can tell!" she finished, scratching her head with the tip of the loaded weapon. "Ladies, Gentlemen, Boys and Girrrrlzzz..." she mumbled to the customers, almost falling asleep standing up until she jolted her head back once more. Her breath reeked of rum. "Captain Flintlock, at yer service! No need to panic, no need to fear! It's jes' me zombie crew of cut-throat rapscallions that need worry ye!" she laughed. But, all said and done, she put her pistol on the counter, undischarged. "Now then, me beauty" she slurred at Grimalkin. "Tell me 'bout this here shop, and ye customer! I been followin' some scurvy dog up to blackest mischief! I reckon..." She leaned in to whisper in her ear. "It be the Cult of the Yellow Sign!" she said, tapping her nose. At least trying to. Being blind stinking drunk, she missed twice before finger collided with nose in a conspiratorial fashion.
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"This flight is costing a tonne of money" said Doctor Erasmus Bolt, deadpan. Ruby Bolt merely groaned. She would have kicked him but that might mean broken bones. She was a woman of rather simple build and plain appearance, quite innocuous and unremarkable. Something about her gave the impression of warm steel. The departure lounge was not how he envisaged spending the day. He had to fend off two autograph hunters, and one furious complainant, who told a rather amusing story about his purchased "Invisi-pants" (Patent: Doctor Erasmus Bolt) and how they had made said complainant the laughing stock of his work place. Ruby Bolt was not a woman to spend on perfumes or sparkling jewels. Instead, she wandered off to a book store to browse some classics. Erasmus, however, decided to spend his time shooting zombie sharks in a video game called "Dead Sea", and found he rather enjoyed it.