Supercape

If this is dream related, I have to throw Rene in (and/or Deadbeat)

Kippers, Capers, and Horseless Chariot Races Charles Blakely’s Diary 17th May, 2014. M’lord Lockwood arose early today, full of vivid enthusiasm, more so than normal. A clear sign of when his passions are inflamed is the consumption of kippers for breakfast. Today, he devoured three, and with only the very barest of mastication in doing so. Alas, such consumption ‘oft leads to the embedding of fish bone in M’lords throat. T‘would appear M’lords vexation is on a most peculiar case, even for his unusual ichor. I press not for elucidation, and yet I am pleased to say his lordship chooses to banter about cases with my humble self. And, dare I say it, I am not absent of suggestion or usefulness in these matters. 19th May, 2014 I drove his Lordship to the scene of the crime today. He has been asked to investigate murder most perplexing. A young woman, newly betrothed, found strangled. Her husband, a man of significant wealth and power, is not keen on his Lordships involvement, a fact that aroused suspicion promptly dulled. He has two cast iron alibies at the Gentlemens club of the evening, who swear he was there at time of death. His Lordship is a polymath of most impressive learning and intellect, and yet he is not a man of medicine (although I daresay had he followed that path he would have made an excellent one). He did not perform post mortem examination himself, I am pleased to say, for it always disquiets a Christian Soul to see the dead from their proper grave, and proper rest. But I am lead to understand that the particular method of murder, that of strangulation, allows one to accurately determine time of death. 20th May 2014 Despite a reputable alibi, his Lordship did not rest on the matter of newly wedded and bereaved husband. It would appear that his instinct bore some fruit. His Lordship was a man of considerable appetites in regard to sexual proclivities, including, as the euphemism goes, batting for the other side. Far be it from me to express shock or moral indignity at such activity, I am too old to judge, and my time in the army opened my eyes to the variation in wants and needs that beat in the heart of every man. Besides, his Lordship himself is well known by rumour, and in deed by fact, to freely pass affection in nocturnal activities, and not only to members of the fairer sex. But regrettably such inclination is not free from shame, or without social ripples. The husband of the victim had, it seemed, been blackmailed by his new bride, who had procured most sturdy proof of his desires, and that they had occurred after matrimony. Understandably, she was engorged with furious mist, and had sought revenge through extortion. And, as surely as domino falls after domino, it seems that husband may have sought solution by extinguishing her life. 21st May 2014 The alibi is false! His Lordship is a genius when mechanical devices both regular and novel are considered. He had examined the clocks at the sedate gentleman’s club where our suspect had frequented. Tampering! A clever but effective trick, to speed the passage of time on clockwork piece, and recover it in early hours of morning. It had appeared to said honest Alibis’ that ‘twas earlier in night than truly it had been. And fingerprints of such tampering were recovered! It would seem now that the net is closing. 22nd May 2014 What day ‘twas! I drove his Lordship to residence most luxurious of said suspect. There, as his Lordship delights in doing, the evidence was presented. To startling effect! “The game is up, Sir!†demanded his Lordship of the murderer, who went white with fear. His gabbling soon turned to desperation, as he fled with all pace. We both set after, as two men, and ‘twas well we did. Suspect had procured a handgun and fired at his Lordship and I. A lucky escape for me, but not so for his Lordship, who had a nasty wound to his leg. We both drew revolvers in response. I have come to carry one, I confess, as life in his Lordships service often draws such drama. And I was glad I did today. Hampered as we were by his Lordships injury, which bled in unnerving manner, we could not catch our quarry before he had reached his horseless chariot. A sleek modern one, by my reckoning, although such styles do not appeal to my Victorian eye. The nature of the car our quarry had stolen, expensive, sleek, and with rumbling engine, reminds me of the writings of Doctor Freud. Our own vehicle, named Bessie by his Lordship, who also had the wit and ingenuity to build her, was a far more stylish affair, with sparkle of lining and much more sturdy architecture. It has a magnificent side horn, and wond’rous steam powered engine. As it transpired, it was equal to the suspects inelegant and gauche sports chariot. And so the chase was one. His Lordship hobbled into Bessie, and requested that I drive. “Tally ho, Blakely, take the wheel! Do England proud!†As it happens, and the Lordship is aware, I am quite fond of driving horseless chariots. In the army, I used to the first models used for troop transportation. Quite an advance on riding or perambulation, I should say. Whilst I am not a professional chariot racer, I dare say I know my way around the wheel and the motor better than most, and in this case, better than our quarry. As his Lordship pressed hand boldly to leg, to stench flow of blood, he urged me on. “Faster! Faster!†“Such velocituous propulsion vexes me, I cannot garuantee his Lordships safety!†I complained, although confess now, to these pages, that such speed did tickle my heart and veins. “Embuggerance to safety!†replied his Lordship with uncharacteristic profanity ill suited to his station. Still, the pain of his wound and the thrill of the chase must provide excuse. At his request, I increased pressure on the engine pedal. And, though peril surely ensured, I do believe that said pedal brushed the metal beneath it. Crack! Came the carefully aimed shot of his Lordship, a well placed bullet that shredded tire of quarry. He promptly lost control and for one heart freezing moment, I feared he might toll and cause most dire injury to himself and others. But instead, he spun, and came to rest, white knuckled, and pliant of mood. Twas then but formality, arrest by local men of the police force, and surely, conviction to come. A day full of excitement and danger, a day will come again, and indeed oft occurs with Lord Lockwood. Days to be feared, days to be savoured too. For it is only in times of danger that one feels most alive. Perhaps, whilst I enjoy the luxury of Steam Manor and its trimmings, I have never really left the army. I am too old to march and fight like I have done, but my position in Lord Steams Service seems to suit most handsomely.

Well, he isn't even trying to avoid getting hit, so it hits! (Defence is +8 for reference) So as he has insubstantial 3 (energy), the energy form takes no damage. On the flip side, its a cracking burst of radiation to Asad (A damage 10 radiation aura) so DC 25 Toughness save, just enough to overcome his impervious. On the flip side again, the energy is enough to charge up his absorption array. Post away.

I think being snared would not stop a burst effect, as it's all a king of wave of healing emanated from you, so that ok. But at the end of the day it's your call, perhaps he needs some magic hand movements!

I believe the King of Suits is encrusted in Barnacles! Although an Area effect seems reasonable. On the other hand, those flaws are pushing it. Stunting a power with the flaws Distraction (When I am borderline not in combat), and Limited (Not the damage I want to heal anyway) is edgy. I can let the Distraction one pass in the spirit of heroic saving, but in all honesty cant let the non-fire damage one pass (as it should be a drawback any way, and on the principle it is difficult to justify limitations and drawbacks for stunts which basically say "limited to the situation I am in anyway").

GM Crack Crack! Carl was panicking now. His shots wild in the dim light of the run down and condemned building. "No! No! Get away! I'm meant to kill you!" he shouted into the air, both hands sweaty on the handle of his revolver. Crack Crack! Click Click Click! Two more bullets, aimed wide. He couldn't even see where he was firing, his eyes were screwed closed from fear. Even if he hit the King of Suits again, he wouldn't know. By this time, in his mind, the Caped Crusader was more phantom than flesh, more shadow the substance. A thing of fear in his head. His finger clicked and clicked again on the revolver trigger, but he was out of bullets. A jittery repetition, born from some stupid hope that if he just clicked the trigger one more time, a bullet would form out of the air and into the revolver, born out of pure will. Alas, he had no such superpower. He settled for blindly hurling the gun at the King of Suits...

Much as she hated the Cantos Legacy, she found her left hand clenching and unclenching. She needed her Cane. Then she could see Demons for what they were. Was this nurse a demon? Where was this hospital? What about the doctor. Or was she just paranoid? High on pain and painkillers, and disorientated. The Nurse was being perfectly reasonable, after all. "OK, OK....I get it...." she said, slumping back, resigned to her fate. "Lets see the Doctor then, get this show on the road..." she mumbled. A second opinion couldn't hurt after all. And busting her leg up permanently would not help anybody. It was in bad enough shape even at the best of times. After all, the Nurse was being kindly, and if she responded to that with fear, she was lost anyway.

Advancing on you!

Tagging this - if Bloody Mess still up? Let me know when to enter Stage Left!

Perdition? It could only be him. Had to be him, unless the webs of trickery went down, down further than her sanity could follow. But even if it was no trick, what was Johnny doing saving her? She thought the singer had wanted to kill her. In some ways, he nearly had. She had busted leg, that was true. But right now Tazel was missing and so was her cane. And on top of all of that...the kid. If he had ever been a normal kid, he surely wasn't one now. Something had possessed him, maybe...or perhaps he was a demon on along. She should have noticed. "Nurse, my leg...its gonna have to wait. I mean, I can have surgery later, right? Right now I just need a wheelchair. I gotta go do something. I know you think I am crazy..." she sighed, knowing this was gonna be a fight. "...but I can come back tomorrow..." she said, knowing it was a futile task. It was crazy, she knew. But she had to find that kid again, in that hotel...

Throw me an Init Roll 1d20+0=15 for Morsi

1d20+5=16 drained 4 toughness, and ouch! acid burn? nasty horrible injury...

1d20+10=16 so it breaks down too, spitting out last passenger. Post away

"I find I am the only one that can, madam. I'm not in the oil business myself, of course. Not here, anyway. It all boils down to steam with me, you see?" Earth Victoriana didn't have quite the same problems with environmental disasters that the this dimension did. Although he concluded they would not be far off. As industrialisation spread and natural resources dried up...well, it would need some invention and politics to sort out. He had only paid half a mind to this dimensions geopolotics and energy problems. But half of his mind was enough to grasp the fundamentals. "The problem with the plebs is their innate short sightedness. Do what makes money now, not what makes money later" he ventured. "Solar panels might be better in the long term. But then, I am afraid I am not a businessman. An engineer, yes, a mechanic, most certainly, a diplomat, by necessity, and a detective by choice" he bowed, modestly. "I leave judging people to the judges, ma'am!" he said with a smile. "But I suspect they would be lenient, most lenient, in your case".

"Enchanted!" lied Lucien, a bit taken aback by the frost. That wouldn't stop him making every effort to be charming, of course. Sometimes, disliking somebody was all the more reason. "Well, if there's one thing worse than being known, its not being known" he said, referring to both himself and Lorena. "There is nothing wrong with a bit of luxury madame. I find I can do without the essentials in life, as long as I have the luxuries!" he said, half turning to survey the "lavish display in wasteful expenditure". Of course his eyes did not exactly leave Lorena, but studied her obtusely. "And on the subject of luxuries, you mention coming here for an investment? I do hope it is some scandalous piece of business. I would rather a scandalous piece of business that a boring piece of recreation, don't you think?. Oh, don't worry, I won't judge. If you turn out to be a dreadful woman, and I shall be quite taken with you! But don't let that put you off, I am fascinated to know what you wished to procure...if procurement was your business?"

Through Another's Eyes Do you have a minion? a sidekick? or even just a friend or relative? failing that, a bystander! Write a vignette about your heroes exploits from somebody else's vantage point. It may be a chance for a sidekick or minion to shine and be heroic themselves! Whoever your choose, and whatever they do, they should be involved in the story themselves, as should the hero in question. They could be heroic, they could be a victim, they could be a bystander. The thread could be written in third person, or in first person (such as the 'others' account of the event to his/her diary, a reporter, or just a verbal account). When/Where: Your choice. How Long: At least one page length in your word processor of choice.

"Lorena Faundez! Enchanted, Madam!" he called from across the room boldly. Lucien wished he could speak Portuguese, but alas. He was fluent in several languages courtesy of a fine education and a brilliant memory, but Southern America was not an important land in Earth Victoriana. He gave her a bow and a smile, and appreciated her beauty with pleasure. He had no particular type of woman, other than beautiful and intelligent. Dark, Pale, or even Green, it was all part of a glorious tapestry. Whilst he was no stranger to affairs of lust based on naught but physical passion, he preferred tastier meals, if available. "Difficult is just Fascinating from a different perspective, Sir!" he whispered to Rupert Warrington. "I am sure there is a tale or two to tell, but I think I would like to get to know this creature. You have set the bait, have you not?" he asked quietly. "You look quite resplendent, madam! Tell me, what brings you to this little Soiree?"

GM Marceau knew the Fens. On another day, he would have caught up with Carl in a moment. This was today, however, and he was bleeding out, with a broken rib and a lungful of pain. Pitwell street another shabby downtrodden street in the Fens, which might have lifted its shoulders above the real scum of the Fens, but could still smell it. The people here were o.k, a kind of trench spirit going on. But there were abandoned houses, tough guys on the street, and hustling and fighting from rival gangs - both professional and unprofessional. Carl had ended up slamming into a small appartment block, maybe ten or so shabby appartments in three stories. Half of them were boarded up, but Marceau could pretty easily see where Carl had snapped back and broken the boards, to crawl (literally crawl) and squeeze into one badly smelling and condemned flat.

Temperance is up! For refence, the reactivated guests have initiative 10, and yes, there will be a doctor on board!

GM The Golem was moving again, and seemed to "snap back" to normal time with a ping. It was almost as if it moved faster, for a moment. The Barnacle thing wasn't particularly fast by itself, it just seemed to contort and bend in ways which were most uncanny, unnatural even. It was a wonder to think how the poor guests inside was not snapped in two by the contortions - most probably, another effect of the black magic that had animated it. As Glamazon swung fist, she smelt the sea and salt of the creature. Captain Blood was shocked, to say the least, now he had also come back to normal time. "Mutiny! Yer claim my prize do ye? Took me some dark deeds and dark pacts to bring forth the blistering barnacles, it did. And now ye snatch away me prize! For yer own motley crew, maybe!" "Well, I may have lost that, but I'm not to be held in debt to the drowned man! I'll hold up my end of the bargain, sure I will! To Davy Jones Locker with the whole ship! Haha!" he laughed, before floating, incorporeal, down through the floor.

GM Blonsky was in his early fifties, but was in excellent shape. An ex-KGB spy who now trained the Olympic Team for Russia? That needed some serious dedication, and Blonsky supplied it. Still, Erick was younger, and stronger, and Synapse could easily ply Blonsky into a lock hold for Synapse. "What did you do, Witch?" said Blonsky, furious at his position, pinned down by Foreshadow. "Some kind of mind controller? Like the sleeper?" he blurted. It was a slip of the tongue he regretted, going against all his training, but he was scared, furious, and humiliated. He clammed his mouth shut in response. Meanwhile, as Synapse brushed away the snow to the Mine, she took a good guess at how to disarm it. Carefully unpeeling the metal casing, and fiddling with the mechanism, the device was rendered inert. It took time though. And the two brainwashed Athletes would not be far behind. Even if they were clambering up a snowy slope, they were in good shape for it...

Device Disabled!

Post away!

So was complaining about sore throat last few days. Then, I pass out this morning! Turns out 8 have strep throat. On antibiotics but will take a few days to kick in.ill be around a little I guess but heads up may be absent and soft headed

Thats a hit, so opposed grapple roll: And Ill say he actually allows you to pin him. Post away. Not in combat yet, so lets play this out, although some initiative rolls might be nice for prosperity!