Supercape
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Reputation 20Q Origin Story
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Reputation: The Black Flag (and crew). Knowledge [History] DC 15 The Black Flag was a famous pirate ship. Her captain was named Captain Flintlock. DC 20 The Black Flag was sunk in the Caribbean, location unknown, by the nefarious pirate Captain Blood. DC 25 There have been rumours and sightings of the Black Flag ever since, apparently manned by the undead and Captain Flintlock herself. The wreckage of the Black Flag has never been found. The Black Flag is registered in several historical documents, particularly the English and French who were looking to sink it. The names of some of the crew are found in these documents (DC 30 to recall the crew names without reference to said documents). Knowledge [Arcane]: Captain Flintlock DC 20 Flintlock is a Sorceress knowledgeable about the Elder and outer things, the cult of the Yellow Sign. DC 25 Flintlock was trained by a mad wizard cultist of the Yellow Sign. DC 30 The Black Flag has docked in several magical realms, and is known to traverse strange tides between these planes. Flintlock herself works her magic by summoning horrors and spirits beyond our universe. Knowledge [Art] DC 25: The Pirate Princess is a famous portrait of the Swashbuckling Sorcerer from 1717, and resides in Freedom City Kirby Museum of Fine Arts. There is a short poem that accompanies it, mentioning her silver tongued charms and love of gold and rum.
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GM "Ah yessss...." smiled the customer, who looked like he had too many teeth. "You must be the manager" he continued, as a statement of fact rather than inquiry. "I was just telling your servant, I am reliably informed you recently acquired a certain book of considerable rarity. The Cthaat Aquadinge" he said, drumming his fingers against his brass urn that continued to ooze a vague black mist. "I am here to purchase this antiquity. I can offer you any amount of gold for it, within..ahhh...reason..." he said, almost apologetically. Grimalkin had the sense that something was indeed leaking out of the urn, something horrible to look at, and not of these mundane dimensions. Something black and horrible. And with an awful stench, of moss and rot and dead sodden flesh.
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Flintlock The Black Flag had sailed the worlds. And her captain, the Swashbuckling sorcerer, knew many tides and many seas. From storms of perpetual night that washed over the umbral moon, to the fetid rivers of the all-swamp. Many strange and dangerous planes. And 'betwixt such realms, there was fog and obscurity. As she now sailed into the port of Freedom City, she had a sense of being not quite there. The black stream of horror she followed was not of mundane dimensions, at least, not purely so. People half ignored her. The astute pointed at the site of a Pirate Ship, but many just stared with vague and dreamy eyes. They saw something not quite solid. And Flintlock could tell that the world around her seemed not quite solid, too. Dreamlike. Or, more accurately, nightmare like. She saw glimpses of spectres, or ghosts, or tentacles slipping under the surface of the water. And everywhere, the black stream of blood that wallowed from Freedom City, who knows where? "Jack, this be strange tides!" she said to her first mate. Handsome Jack just puckered his scared lips. "Pfah! No stranger 'n than any we ain't sailed before!" he said, mangling his grammar and spitting some disgusting phlegm from his mouth. "Anchor the Black Flag, I'm going ashore!" she answered, as the mighty ship pulled up to the banks of its rivers. Flintlock would look most peculiar in Freedom City, dressed in nautical, saucy, and historical garb, but this was, after all, still Freedom City...
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GM "I Seeeee" said the customer. He gurgled ever so slightly. "I had it on good word that the book in question was sent here most recently. Perhaps you would be so good as to check your recent acquisitions?" he asked, without being particularly polite or, for that matter, impolite. His fingers drummed the brass urn under his arm. It was a black, curious thing. On its rim, the faintest of black, curious ooze, seeping out.
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Meanwhile The Black Flag slipped silently though the waves, on a cold spring morning with rolling waves. It always creaked, it always moaned, and somehow its voice seemed more than just timber grinding against timber. "Set sail for Freedom City! The den of inequity and guttersnipes!" said Flintlock. She leaned over the front of the ship, and gave the figure head a big saucy kiss on its big saucy bosom. She smelt or Rum and sweat and spices, and lolled from side to side with her ship. In one hand, an ancient flask of rum. In the other, an ancient urn. From this dented brass, she spilt a little dust. Black and silver it was, dust and light. And into the sea if fell like falling stars. As it sank through the ocean a black ooze could be seen, bubbling and seething like a snake. It looked like poison, it looked like night, and if one looked very closely, it looked like something you didn't want to see at all. And to the horizon it coiled, straight to Freedom City.
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Going to take a few minutes breather at the hut, providing of course it isn't stuffed full of bats and imps and whatnot.
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“We can hope. But keep your powder dry” she replied to William, indicating his firearm. She paused a moment. The soldiers were too weary, exposed. She was in no good shape herself, but she had fire in her blood. Literally as well as metaphorically. She forced Tazel to fire down, and marched to the hut with the soldiers. “Lets catch our breath. Tend to the wounded. Eat. Drink. Some coffee would go down well…” she asked as she opened the hut door.
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OOC for this thread Non combat mystery/social thread for Flintlock and Grimalkin
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GM The Cthaat Aquadingen was a rare book. There were only three known copies, each bound in human skin that were said to sweat on occasion. The three copies resided in Britain, the only publically known one was in the British Museum, and under lock and key (and possibly more). The other two copies were rumoured to lie with private collectors of the occult. There were only three copies. The fourth copy had wound its way to Silvermans book store. Bound in what looked like human skin, written in Latin, the book was a scrawl of writings on Dagon and the Deep Ones, Atlantis, the Serpent people, and full to the brim of horrible rituals and more horrible insinuations. And into the bookstore, soon after its mysterious arrival by untraceable postal delivery (complete with shaky hand writing “DO NOT READ, KEEP SAFE!”), stepped a man most keen to purchase this rare tome. A brown hued man with straggly brown hair, one glass eyes, and the other eye human but glassy. He was tall, stooped, and had a fixed grin. He licked his lips a little too much. His tailoring was good, however, wearing an excellent cut three piece suit. “I am looking for a most rare book. The Cthaat Aquadingen. I am purchasing for a private collector. I can pay you a handsome price, as many dubloons as you can carry!” he said in a firm voice. He carried a grey-steel box under his hand, and tapped it nervously, like it was alive.
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"Running ain't my style" grunted Pitch. The charge had wrenched her leg. The paralysed foot felt little or nothing, as normal, but as the sensation and power improved up to her knee, her thigh, her hip; these joints that took the strain were complaining. She kept her eyes blazing and the smoke belching. "Crawling, limping...I can do that. Won't be pretty" she said, getting to her legs and holding on to her cane. "Lets get out of here!" She could feel the tablet stone in her other hand, pulling... Its as good a direction as any...
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Knowledge roll on tablet: 1d20+5 13 for Knowledge: Arcane. If it pertains to Infernal I suppose Favoured Enemy feat gives +2 to that.
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"Its never over" replied Pitch, slumping against the stone walls. The Cantos cane felt heavy and horrible, and she was reminded that it was never hers. It was her fathers. She was mindful to keep up the smoke and heat, although it would no doubt be unbearable for the soldiers. It was better to keep the cover up than not, given a veritable army of horrors could be swirling over head or around them. "If you have any bright ideas about how to get out of this, I am all ears" she said. She rotated the stone in the palm of her hand, getting a feel for it, and casting her blazing eyes over its surface.
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In case its needed, I guess ill take 10 (if thats ok) on tracking for a result of 22 (presumably some modifiers come into play).
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Oskar whispered to Seika. "I don't trust them. They seem out for blood. Too quick to jump to conclusions..." "Lets go on foot" he said, more loudly. "Feel free to follow us..." he added, politely. He doubted that flying vehicles would see a lot through the roof of leaves ahead.
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Picking up her cane, ignoring the pain from her leg, Pitch put all her muscle into a head long charge. It was not easy, with her leg - but it was more a problem of balance than power, and she charged head long, the Cantos cane held above her. A powerful sorcery it might be, but it was also a hefty, weighted stick. "Take a load of this, old man!" she screamed, like a mad witch. With a final tumble, the cane smacked the man on the head, and she tumbled into him, landing heavily on the ground...
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GO for a charge then, +2 Att / -2 Defence, and Ill compound that with a -2 Attack/+2 Damage Shift: Rolling to hit: Charges Sorcerer: 1d20+11 31 A crit! So DC with full rage and with her stick is 26, Plus shift is 28, plus crit is 33!
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Embers and ash fountained from the disc. The ice cold was hard, like stone shooting through her bones. She gasped in pain, body arched. In defiance of screaming flesh and fire, she lurched forward, through the smoke, eyes blazing, stumbling through the doors of the watch tower and collapsing into the stony walls, fighting for breath. The smoke and the fumes that poured through her mouth came ragged, ragged. She felt the edge of fear through her rage...
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Save Toughness vs Disc: 1d20+11 26 and I shall live with that. Next action will be simply moving to [full] cover in the watch tower!
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"Damn" grunted Pitch, fighting the rage boiling in her veins which, no doubt, was food for the demon inside her. She screamed a primal scream at the air. She would have loved nothing more than to tear the wizard above her limb from bloody limb, and perhaps she would have - if not for the soldiers she felt obliged to protect. Tactical retreat she shouted to her skull, like a mantra of poorly believed words. Grunting with effort, she resolved to fight another day. From nowhere in particular poured hot, acrid smoke, a cloud of obscene fumes. She took the chain that had been half melted and threw it to her companions. She could see well enough through any such fog, her eyes blazing red with Tazels power. "Follow me!" she yelled to her friends, and started to make way, chain in hand, to cover...
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So sorted. On further reflection, I have slightly modified Illusion to have the phantasm flaw (as it makes more sense and is more interesting), and slightly modified the Suffocate to coastal areas only (again, more sense and more interesting). Hope that is ok.
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Ok, if this is ok, Ill throw the humans a chain to grab on to, and then summon the elements - smoke and heat as per her hot smoke power. I imagine thats a full round (move action to throw a "rope", plus standard action to activate power)? Incidentally the rage lasts 10 rounds?
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Smoke and fire belched from her eyes and mouth. "As impertinent as you are, demon..." she grunted to the demon in her veins, "I think you have met your match, this fool surpasses you in vexation!" she hissed. Another chain wound through the air, trailing smoke and floating embers, its steel black from the infernal forge from which it came. "Get over here!" she shouted at the floating sorcerer.
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Save vs Sorcery Will Drain: 1d20+11 29 I think resists. Snare wizard again: 1d20+10 18 to snare again. I suspect that misses, so Ill burn an HP to reroll (As I have plenty) HP reroll to snare: 1d10+21 27
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Added in stuff I missed: ATV has toughness 12, and also (as per house rules), Equipment: Masterwork Space Suit [10 EP], Progression 5 (5 Suits) EP 2. This actually all adds up, I just noticed I forgot to notate them.