Supercape

Well I guess it is time to borrow from Dr Tomorrows mind again: Reconfiguring the brain! 10 PP 1PP: Inventor Feat 4 PP: +4 INT 2 PP: 8 Ranks of Knowledge (Physical Sciences) +8 (+12) 2 PP: 8 Ranks of Knowledge (Technology) +8 (+12) 1 PP: 8 Ranks of Computers +4 (+12) Extraordinarily, Dr Tomorrow has no craft skills, so I guess need to burn off my HP to get Jack of All Trades. I'm not exactly sure what power to make, it kind of feels like a Morph Power, Affecting Others, 1 object, Continuous, so lets say Rank 2 (+10 Disguise) would be a 4 PP Power. Deisgn Check: 1d20+10=17 vs DC 14 is fine, and 4 hours Now the craft check which is significantly more tricksy. With an INT of 18 thats a +4 bonus 1d20+4=10 so it doesn't work

Of course

That sounded bad. Really bad. Sunset and the Radical were as one mind on that. A particular chill ran up the Radicals virtual spine at the bit about eating psychics. He fancied he might make a tasty morsel. "She sounds heavy. Real heavy" said Sunset as the Radical seeped into the driving seat for a moment. Not completely, but he was there. Then, she spoke louder, to both the doctor and the bear men. "A distraction, thats what we need. A false ark, booby trapped! Perhaps one of those other walls that talk?" she asked. Together, they might create a dummy...

Lets say yes! The crew are distrivuted around the ship, but there is a concentration in the entertainment hall and the engine rooms.

Ok with immediate danger out of the way and as far as I can see it no real conflict ahead, I am going to suggest a scene cut. How does this sound? Basically the link between Haven to FC was to allow some good in-game reason for your PCs to float freely between FC threads and Vanguard UK threads. As it is we can have Haven as an "area", or, if you wish, chip in a few PP and its your new home/HQ. In any case, Vera can be hacked given time by either yourselves or the Ministry. So, time to think about actually tracking down the old Vanguard, and/or any stories/conflicts you wish to tell on your PCs. Ill leave this open a few days for you guys to think about, then its scene cut time. Of course, do feel free to make IC posts to tie up this scene if you wish.

Its not good. On the one hand, he hated guns. More particularly, he hated guns being pointed at him. Although all guns were bad, in his book. A tendency to go off and blow your brains out. He hated carrying as a cop, and he didn't carry now. On the other hand, the fact that the Battle Brothers were beating a hasty retreat was a more positive sign. He guessed they would only do that if his partner and friends had raised some hell down below. He would have loved to put his hands in the air, except that right now, they were paws. He would have loved to have pleaded with the security guards that they should not shoot an unarmed man. Except he was an unarmed dog. He settled for scuttling to the floor like a sleeping dog, and whimpering in his best scared dog voice.

"Uh yeah, fix my leg up, that's a good one, honey" said Carmen back at the bartender. "If it could be done, I would have done it, don't ya think? And I have enough mystical bull thrown at me too, from voodoo madams to preachers telling me to accept the word of the Lord and I will be healed..." she said, unable to keep a snarl from forming. Tired, in pain, fuse short. "This is my redemption, my friend" she finished, downing the double vodka in one, and crunching the glass back down. Not too hard, but harder than needed. "Give me another, and ill savour the next one. But you wont see me busting a move on the dance floor. A bust a few noses in my time, though" she said, recalling the more heaving and sweaty rock bars she had been too. She had more than a few fights in those.

I will! however, it depends a bit on fleshing out what the dragon is? (is it literally a dragon?)

Well I think Sand is very ill... (as per player away thread) Lets give him a week, if no word, cut to solo!

"Isotemporal wha..." started Sunset before she felt the echo of Dr Tomorrow inside her. The complex understanding of temporal physics, whilst nowhere near the 'original' was laid out in front of her. yeah man, that's awesome...its like, everything is one, and one is everything! Nicely put, if a little sixties...she answered to the Radical. ...well, its a little more complicated than that...blurted out the echo of Dr Tomorrow. Normally the ingested psyche's were faint, whispers and shadows, but Dr Tomorrow had a powerful mind, and the rather vague whimsy of the Radical briefly sparked that echo into phrase, if faint. Sunset was just glad that he was a benign presence. "So, keep her occupied for the attuning of the isotemporal frequencies. You got it!" she smiled, giving him two thumbs up. "How long have we got? And what exactly do we know about this dragon? can we make preparation? maybe lay some traps, trip wire, giant spikes, that sort of thing? Maybe conjure up some flame repellent?"

Ok a little bit of railroading - assuming you would all go to see the captain and his flare (hope that is ok). Feel free to chat and socialise. Arcane Knowledge DC 20 to clock this is, or is very likely to be, Captain Blood (dum dum daaah!) If any of you have Knowledge (Technology) and want to look at the readouts and quiz the captain about the engine failure... DC 20

GM The aquatic foursome sped through waves and water and arrived at the Magnificent pretty much simultaneously. It was dead in the water, without power, bobbing gently in the waves. The sky was pretty clear, a hazy cloud here or there, illuminated red, now orange, with the rising sun. There was no precipitation. A very gentle breeze, and light, rolling waves. Certainly far from perilous conditions, even for the most amateur of mariners. About the only lament one could lay on the weather that it would not fill your sails particularly well. But neither was it complete doldrums. Captain Pike was keeping watch, and spied the approaching heroes through his binoculars. "Well I'll be damned...ghosts and now superheroes...." he said, a grin spreading across what had previously been a most wan face. He snatched up his flare gun and jumped outside, lighting the sky with an orange flare, and accompanying it with an energetic waving of his hand. A few moments later... "I don't know what happened. The ships dead in the water, seized right up. Completely busted, our engineers said, like someone thrown a proverbial spanner in the proverbial works. Our lads are taking it apart right now, but it's not looking good, that s the word" "But that's not the worst of it, not by far. Its the entertainment. No, don't laugh. I know cruise ship entertainment can be pretty horrible sometimes, but we don't have the worst of it. Can't say I like Sammy Smooth, our singer, but I've heard worse. I think. Anyway, the entertainment deck got sealed up, everyone screaming, spooked. A few got out, said ghosts walked in. Pirate ghosts at that. Then, it spread out, the whole damn ship, like a virus. Doors jamming shut, ghosts walking everywhere, terrorising our guests. Its like a Somali Hijacking. Only the decks are safe!" "We tried battering down the doors, but without tools, we are dead. Now, we lost contact with engineering, with the rest of the ship. All we got is our radio and this flare gun!" he said, looking at his now empty and impotent gun, before tossing it aside.

Fair enough - edited out the seance.

Post away!

He doesn't know the half of me...or does he? She carried a damn demon in her belly. And Nicks eyes had that haunted, penetrating look. No surprise, really, if half the stories about him were true, then he had seen things, many things, beyond this world. More than her, that was for sure, and she had seen enough. Still, she didn't want everyone else knowing she was Pitch. For her sake, and for theirs. "Open my eyes to the invisible? I'm a reporter, I guess that's what I do, huh?" she joked back, wondering just how much he knew. Or she did, come to that. "But if you are going to do another ritual or something, count me in. I've seen enough jokers in black metal bands mess around with sorcery and death magic. I'd kill to see the real deal...uh...take that metaphorically, of course..." she added.

squeak squeak Damnit...I can speak rat, but Nick can't...why can't a Necromancer like him learn a little basic rat? Pitch shook her head outside the tall office building, staring up at the imposing building. Fifteen floors up and her leg already had shooting nerve pains. She better get a lift from one of the other guys... She let all the other rats go from her mental grasp. Their use was done now, and even bound to her, she felt a little unclean around them. Rats saw, and smelled, too much. The one with Nick, she kept, and forced it to nod and squeak. She revved up her motorcycle, and spun it around, a quick jaunt back to 323 Hawthorne, leaving a trail of smoke and ember behind her. "Got something" she called out to Nick as she pulled up. "A smell of Brimstone, and something up on the fifteenth floor. Either someone is playing chemist, or its hell up there" she explained, staying seated on her vehicle. "No shortage of action tonight, it seems. I could do with a boost up there though. These wheels don't go up walls!"

"Double Vodka" shouted Carmen over the noise of people and music. She quite fancied the bartender, and made sure she met his eye. She didn't fancy the music. And she didn't fancy dancing. The cane in her fingers was testament to that. Oh she may have looked a bombshell, she may have slinked the slink, but the nerve damage had left her with a limp that wasn't going to mean she was ever going to be a dancer, unless you counted moshing up and down at the front of a gig. She was feeling restless that evening. And the pains were cranking up for a bad nights sleep. In a foul temper, she had stomped off, late at night, to the nearest bar, and ended up in this one. It was as good as any. Screw this autotuned wailing she cursed the music. If she hadn't been in such a bad mood, with pain down her leg, she probably would have thought it was ok. Being a music journalist kept her mind open to most forms of music, from country and western to opera. But, she was in a bad mood. And cursing the music felt good. She had an urge to drink too much vodka and take the bartender home with her. That's what happened when she was in a bad mood.

"Oh Lord, here we go again..." complained Harry, as he kicked the Chevvy into gear and tried not to look at his partners dessicated body in the passenger seat. Heaven help the poor cop who pulled them over. And heaven help him trying to explain it. Shoving the fantasies out of his head, he gritted his teeth and stamped on the accelerator, giving the Chevvy a burp of smoke and burn of wheel before it tore off to follow Lucy and the Mess. Meanwhile, the Mess craned his head to follow the woman, and gave a bubbling "wow" in admiration. "You gotsta have some major duty shampoo, lady! But you ain't getting away from me that easy!" he shouted at her, before his fizzing bloody legs sprang into action and launched him up , up and away, to the beams of the bridge. He gave a grunt at the woman. "I'm still not gonna hit ya!" he declared, before his bloody form started slithering towards her like a cannonball, like a bullet, like a train. He ran across the beams, his bloody legs sticking and propelling him, and driving his body straight into the supervillainess. "But I am bringing you back to earth!"

EDITS: After discussion in chat. Move Action: Leap to the Bridge. Standard Action: Overrun. As he has improved Overrun, she cannot avoid the attack, and he has +4 on the trip opposed roll. Unarmed attack, Shifting +2 DC, -2 Attack (from Alt Form) 1d20+10=29 is, I am pretty sure, a hit! So, opposed roll: Mess will be using Strength, which is at +8 base, +4 from Super Strength. Also +4 from Improved Overrun Feat, +2 from shifted attack, -4 from Size penalty, +6 from Speed 6 Power. 1d20+14=27 +6 from Speed (not added) = 33. I guess Strand may get a +4 bonus from having lots of limbs, plus she gets to choose to oppose with acrobatics or strength, EDIT: I note Harry had already pulled the body inside the Chevvy, so he will just drive to below where Strand is (which may mean she hits the Chevvy!) - even if he doesnt get the whole way.

Feel free to make a Knowledge (Popular Culture) or (Streetwise) roll DC 15 to know that this place has rumors of mob connections.

GM "Evening ma'am...have a good evening!" smiled the two bouncers at the two puppies. Their eyes seem to grow slightly as Ms Grue entered the Southside Palace. The Southside Palace was grand enough in decor, and vast inside. Rows and rows of slot machines tinkled away to the gaze of hypnotized arm pullers. Further on, the cards and tables lay, with roulette, blackjack, craps dominating the floor space. Security was tight - guards everywhere, both static and roaming, and camera's dotting every nook in the ceiling. There was a certain gay atmosphere, a certain adrenaline in the air. Of course, their was sadness and despair too. And drinks that fuelled all of these disparate but interconnected emotions. "Courtesy glass of champagne ma'am?" said one passing waiter on entry, almost pressing the glass into her hands. It made some sense. Drunk gamblers lost more money. Craning her neck, Ms. Grue could see Mr. Swish at a Roulette table, shuffling around tokens and talking to a thick set, bald man who looked as wide as he was tall, from a mixture of both fat and muscle.

GM "Goodness! What talk!" said Singh, straightening up. "Alternative dimensions? whoever heard of such a thing!" he said, eyes wide, and moustache bristling. "Why, it goes against all laws of nature, ma'am! Its the kind of poppycock Professor Wells is always blathering on about to the Royal Institute of Metaphysical Engineering! American Independence? Why on earth would they want such a thing? Only those damn Texan's wanted out, with their shooting and gambling, and good riddance to them!" he blurted, aghast at the mere thought that a colony would want to depart from the glorious British Empire. "It must be the heat, ma'am! Or maybe malaria? you need to sit down, and have a tonic!" he said, kindly, pulling a chair up for her and snapping his fingers at an aide, who whisked up a gin and tonic from a hip flask. "Quite understandable ma'am, after all, the shock of the explosion and everything. A shock to your ichors, I dare say. Quite a thing, for such a beautiful and elegant young lady as yourself, if you pardon my impertinence, ma'am.." he said, doffing his helmet and politely bowing. "And please forgive any insult or grievance, ma'am. It would not do to unsettle your hydraulic equilibrium further!"

Pitch is a better thing, I think. My second choice would be to have Deadbeat turn up if there is musical mayhem! That said, Im not at all opposed at having Sunset in if you think its a good fit.

Tagging

Good for me!