Supercape
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GM Later, at the Olympic Village... Erick had given K a befuddled slip at the Hotel, giving him ample time to change into the one and only Foreshadow! The Dark streets of Russia were no problem for him, the mask of Foreshadow showing up the blackest of streets and alleyways. He was even guided by his foresight to the Village itself, visions of the place flowing into his mind, and the quickest and least obtrusive way too. The Village itself was also home to Synapse, making her way to see her Brother. In his minds eye, Foreshadow could see this coming. And, too, he could see trouble ahead! One of Blonsky's brainwashed men kicking down the door to Edwards appartment. Knock Knock... "Hi Dee, come in! The old KGB rotters giving you no trouble I guess? They have been plaguing me ever since I landed!" sighed Edward, letting Dee in. "Big day tomorrow, cant stay up to late. Qualifiers of the Biathalon. I should make it through to the final, but you know there is some seriously stiff competition there. Come in, come in. I'd offer a drink, but this is the Olympic Village!" he laughed. "How is sister? and the old man?"
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ic Earth Victoriana: The Face of Politics
Supercape replied to Supercape's topic in The Realms Beyond
GM "And I say to you, my Countrymen, that I can promise a new age of industry, prosperity and...What the devil!" said Lord Pennyworth, spying Carrie in the corner of his eye. He was used to her being a rapscallion of sorts, but the sight of a ink well sailing in a parabola across the stage was one to raise his magnificently bushy eyebrows, even in mid speech as he was. The aim was true, and the putty-faced mimic caught the ink square on his nose, a splattering covering his face, with a few blobs hitting Ned, his cronies, and Cannonade for effect. "What the devil!" roared a furious Ned, scarsely believing his eyes. "That blasted girl! I'll have her guts for garters!" -
Which means: Round 1: 31 - Carrie - Unharmed - 3 HP 21 - Cannonade - Unharmed - 3 HP 11 - Coppers [6] 11 - Ned Ludd 11 - Puttymen [4]
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The "Coppers" [Minions, Using modified M&M Police Officer, using "Copper truncheon" instead of Pistol] Roll 1D20+1 => 11 Ned Ludd and the 4 Puttymen (no 4 is wearing the puttymask) - not minions. 1D20+4 => 8 Keeping Pennyworth and bystanders out of initiative for now, but there are plenty of the latter.
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Post that away!
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GM Roi and Agnes took turns in running down the endless names of the Passenger Log Book. It was enough to make eyes go dizzy, not helped by fatigue, adrenaline, or the fumes of smoke and booze they had lingered in. Still, excitement and drive helped focus the mind. None of the names rung a bell, although there were clearly some comedians travelling under a false name, such as a Mister Donald Duck and a Master Michael Mouse. A few female names raised eyebrows, the kind of made up fancy that was typical of ladies who performed very particular and shameful performances in the bars and dives even more sleazy than the wild Joker. What did spring up was an annotation by Rio. A scrawled message in the Captains very hand! "Got word from HJ. Keep an eye out for this one, big boss Olivetti wants his hands on him, or at least what he carries..."
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GM "Status? Status? Can anyone hear me, over?" Cruxberrys unmistakable clipped voice sounded out through Vera, peppered with slight crackles but perfectly understandable all the same. Whatever cleaning up of the security systems Jasmine and Dee had managed, the intercoms were back on. "Radio contact appears to be back on! which, hopefully, means you have been successful!" he said, hardly containing his excitement and enthusiasm, as well as his thanks and praise. "If not, well, there are plenty of disaster scenario's I can think of, but I am hopeful today? Can you confirm it is safe to enter? and if so, can you let us in? Its cold and dark out here?" he said, his physical presence still behind the impressive door of the Haven. "Even Mr. Smith is getting impatient, and with a face like his, that's saying something!" he joked.
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ic Earth Victoriana: The Face of Politics
Supercape replied to Supercape's topic in The Realms Beyond
GM A little later... Lord Pennyworth took to the stage and a mixed crowd, full of jeers and cheers, and gave a cheery way. He was oblivious to the former, and lapped up the latter. For all his bluster and heavy drinking, he was a good orator, able to fudge detail and inspire hope. He did so without reference to notes and nursing a moderate sized hangover, which was to his credit. Ned Ludd sneered at the various comments, before pulling Cannonade to the side, and backstage. Security was present, but not tight. A few bobbies with copper plated stun sticks. Nedd and his three cronies could have caused a serious ruckus to the half dozen "coppers". But he had something more subtle in mind. A fourth crony was dressed in clothing similar to Lord Pennyworth. As he turned round, Cannonade could see why. His face was identical to Pennyworths. Ned gave Cannonade a hearty pat on the back. "My secret weapon!" he explained. "Its a kind of glue, or putty. We call it facecream. One application and you can mold it took almost exactly how you want. I have a girl back at base, an artist, who does the painting, so to speak..." The cream was very good, unnaturally good. The Crony wearing Pennyworths face gave an evil grin. "So, we just do the switch backstage, and then my man here makes the worst speech possible!" he laughed. "The crowd will see the face of politics!" "No comes the tricky part...the switch!" he said, concerned once more. He had spied Carrie hovering out Pennyworth. "Especially with his new bodyguard! We might need your arms and knuckles, my friend!" he said, giving Cannonade a wink. -
GM The animals and the vines retreated, stung emotionally. That fangs and venom had no effect on the two heroes probably stung too. Malaise was no fan of defeat, although she had a twisted sense of humour. The Crocodile paced a few feet back, splashing, sullen, and angry. Its eyes were black, and faded to black, and then to green...the eyes of Malaise herself stared at the two heroes. "So my love, it has been a long time...a very long time. But I don't forget easily, especially when the memories were so delicious! And here you are, the pair of you, young, vital, and full of life..." she said out of the Crocodiles mouth, which caused a very strange sound indeed. Still, the intonation and melody of the Witch was there for all to hear. "What brings you to my domain in this city? I see all here! Why does the spider walk into the web?"
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Hi Piercetbh, Im happy to GM something as part of throwing out a welcome to new players!
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GM Bronsky was not best pleased, sufficiently irate not to notice K. "I have my eye on you, American!" he said, pointing at the very organ to emphasise his point. "I have come here with the finest Russian team ever to compete. And still, slanders, whispers, gossip, even from my own countrymen! I am not in the brightest of moods. Not for your singing, not for your sarcasm! Anyone who gets in my way...." He put a golf ball in the palm of the nearest Athlete, who, with a nod, squeezed, his hand and neck contorting in supreme effort. Then, the hand was turned, and golf ball dust slipped into the air. "If I see you again, it won't be a golf ball..." he chuckled, then signalled the four men to move to the Village.
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GM Meanwhile...a dozen or so yards away... "<Assassin!>" yelled Bronsky, his gaze swivelled to Erick. There were some gasps and startles at the word, a very loaded word in the nervous security landscape of these Olympics. But Bronksy did not refer to a grenade or rifle. "<How dare you murder such a song, on today of all days!"> he shouted, his retinue of four beefed up Russians impassive. "<Wait! I know you - Erick Sloane!>" he said, raising an eyebrow and changing to a very good English. "American, yes? What are you doing trampling into the Olympic Village and ruining a Russian hymn with that awful voice of yours? Come to try and put us of our stride? Sledging? It wont work on my boys, I can tell you!" he smiled, gloating, and indicating the completely unfazed expressions of the four athletes he walked with.
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"Careful with that axe, my dear!" said Rene, pulling at his collar. "I had quite enough of that in the French Revolution. Madame Guillotene is not as pretty as she sounds. And she doesn't sound that pretty, either..." he said. In the real world, he would have felt sweat and pumping blood. Here, he just sort of wobbled with anxiety. Still, he was glad that Mona was there by his side. "Nice outfit by the way. Very colourful" he commented as he followed her gaze to the blackboard. He studied it for a moment and adjusted his glasses. "Very interesting, but what does it mean I wonder? Layers upon layers of words and meanings. Life is like an onion, you peel back one layer and another presents itself" he contemplated. "This, however, looks very strange. Inhuman perhaps. Like the Yellow Sign, or dimensions beyond, or even worlds and strange things from distant stars. All beyond me..." he conceded. "But something, or someone is leading us here and there. Onwards, say I! this vision is not one I will recede from!"
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Lets have some bad karma from that murdering of a russian classic!
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right, no Singing skill for Foreshadow! Which means a straight CHA roll 10+ to garner the attention, 20+ to garner some respect!
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GM "Hi Dee" smiled Edward. The young lean man gave her a beam of warmth. He was a creature of two worlds, a foot as an aristocratic son of there austere father, and a foot in the modern world and modern people. Edward just seemed to get on with everybody, rarely saying a bad word. Only when it came to their sister did he frown and despair. "Thanks for the moral support. Looks like I am going to need it with these Russians, eh?" he said, nodding towards the man-mountains. "Clean as a whistle, so they say. But it looks like they could sweat steroids. Beats me..." he shook his head but gave a grin. "Just got to hope they don't aim with all the muscles quivering!" he winked, mocking up the Biathalon shooting stance. Dee knew Edward was good, a olympic shot and a good skier. But with the Scandinavians and Russians fielding some truly outstanding athletes, his hopes of medal glory were dim. He knew it, but was enjoying the trip anyway.
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Sunset made a face, squirming her nose and brow at the sight, and indeed the smell. "What the hell is that?" she asked reflexively. "A million years of evolution?" it was the logical answer. But... "Or some kind of alien?" she completed. Of course, that didn't really matter... "More importantly, what kind of maddened creature skinned it?" she asked, the thought slipping through her with a cold fear pinned to it. She flexed her fingers, feeling the Radical muster up his prostigious strength inside the suit. Whoaaa! Thats some bad ass dude! I'll keep a watch out! The black suit of Sunset glowed, a deep orange eye of light forming on it...then another...the another...until a half dozen unblinking lights moved around her suit, each an eye, looking out for trouble... "Onward to the breach, I guess..." she murmured to Dr Tommorow, and pressed forward...quietly.
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Right I just realised Mess' Grapple is very low in alternate form - only +14. Fortunately that doesnt bung up the last roll (prior to that I had it right), so lets press on! 1D20+14 => 17 and a bad roll, and she is free!
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"Come back here, ya no good bozos! Yer a pair of cowards!" Shouted the Mess at the Battle Brothers. His body was sagging and weak but his fury strong. One hand was on his knee, the other was waved in a symbolic gesture of defiance At the two of them. "Till next time, ya cheats! Ill be waiting!" he yelled. He could feel his blood losing its fizz, he could feel his bruises and breaks. He was too tired to give chase.
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McDuffy may have blanched at the veiled insinuations. It was hard to say with his orange spray tan. Amir was astute enough to recognise the change in voice and involuntary muscle flicks in his face. And so it was, with little fuss and less questions, McDuffy introduced Amir to Assaf. The man was probably just under 50, a small man, short and thin. His brow was wide, his chin weak. He sported a short neat hairstyle and immodest moustache, both jet black and peppered with grey. He looked humble, weak but regal all at tge same time.
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Id be tempted to let em escape, good nemesis for the Mess
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A straight grapple squeeze, whuch I think is a DC 23 toughness as he is boisted
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"What the..." blurted the Mess through bubbling lips. He wasn't called Bloody Mess for nothing, but this was ridiculous. The entaglement of his fizzing, oozing form and the cobweb of hairs that wiggled for the womans whims led to an awful sight. Clots of congealed blood laced between clumps of tangled, interwoven hair. "I didn't say you could hit her!" Complained the dim witted detective. "It ain't ladylike, fighting!" He protested, without any coherent argument to back up his reasoning. Still, he figured his Dad never said anything about squeezing...
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"What the..." blurted the Mess through bubbling lips. He wasn't called Bloody Mess for nothing, but this was ridiculous. The entaglement of his fizzing, oozing form and the cobweb of hairs that wiggled for the womans whims led to an awful sight. Clots of congealed blood laced between clumps of tangled, interwoven hair. "I didn't say you could hit her!" Complained the dim witted detective. "It ain't ladylike, fighting!" He protested, without any coherent argument to back up his reasoning. Still, he figured his Dad never said anything about squeezing...
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You could buy something like air walking 2, limitation no vertical movement, to simulate running across a canyon in the style of a cartoon character!