Supercape

GM The Chugger's face softened a bit. "Heat? Yeah, it aint natural, and it aint right. I can handle me a dose of sunshine, but this..." he waved his hand in the air. "This ain't good for your health, right boys?" The boys nodded and grunted in affirmation. "So I guess we could help each other out. A long as you don't go poking your noses where noses dont belong." He spat on the ground again, but in a more cordial manner. Then, he stroked his chin-stubble and pondered the question. "Truth is, nobody rightly knows why its so hot. Come on all of a sudden. Plants like it, though, Everything growing. Seems like the swamp this filty town is built on - seems like the swamp is coming to swallow us up, with this damn heat!" More nods, more grunts. "This town got more history than even Mr. Tweed over there..." (he pointed at Professor Armitage) "...could learn about it one lifetime. Aztec sacrifices, Pirates, Witches. No place better to pick up some disease or curse. Usually a curse that causes a disease. Tezville can eat a man up, like that, it can."

thats enough to turn them from Unfriendly to Indifferent (act as socially expected). So they wont be out to stab you, at least.

Starshot Starshot nodded. "Yes. Its not armed-all that space is devoted to full spectrum scanners. EM, Atmospherics, life patterns. Thats the ticket when you are hunting." He gave a side glance at Dr A - how would the scientist respond to the lack of armament? Presumably well, he would prefer to apply his mind to the sensors. But it was a tell. Some of his more nervous, or violent customers didn't appreciate lack of weaponry. What about Pirates? The Xeno could outrun nine ships out of ten, and keep pace with all. Starshot wasn't interested in hunting Pirates, his game was on the ground, against claw and fang and tentacle. Although he had taken down a few Pirates in his time. "I'll give you the tour if you wish. I guess we can set off as soon as you are ready?"

Starshot Starshot met the hand with his own. He was always somewhat thankful that his right hand was still - mainly - flesh and blood. Handshakes seemed more humane. His left hand was pure chrome and steel, capable of crushing bones. "Starshot," he started, pausing a moment. "In another life I was Oskar Otto. Earthman, like you. Lots happened since that life," he explained. "As for local wildlife, the Galaxy's a big place and I've been from one end to the other, hunted them big, hunted them small. But I've never hunted these Sarcota. Massive. What gets me is why a group of them set up a nest on Ferrum? They aren't pack animals. Why?" He stroked the stubble on the chin. "But I guess that's your bag? Geology, biochemistry, astrophysics? Maybe you can work that out?" He gestured towards the Xeno. "Was going to take my yacht here, the Xeno. Its fast, and comfortable, and it's got everything a good hunting ship needs."

Starshot Starshot waited patiently. Patience was a virtue, they said. It certainly was when you were hunting, waiting for the first sighting of the quarry, or the ideal shot. He had no problem waiting. He just wished he wasnt waiting on the platform. He preferred green and purple flora, the sound of twittering avians and grunts of scuttling scavangers. not the sight of steel and the humming of machines. At least the Xeno had a more organic flavour to its interior, complete with stuffed animal heads. At least it was safe. He had left his belt, jacket, gun and helmet in the Xeno. He was dressed in relaxed camo-gear, his scarred face on full display. The left side was not his best side. But he didn't care which side people saw him from. He had read up on Doctor A. A dangerous man, but all intelligent men could be dangerous. Intelligence was dangerous, if directed to malign intent. This doctor didn't have a great history, but neither did Starshot. The man seemed redeemed now. Starshot just hoped he could handle alien environments and the great outdoors.

[url=https://orokos.com/roll/999406]Will save[/url]: [u]1d20+4[/u] [b]12[/b] not a will save... no! I think thats dazed and bruised.

Snakebite in The Magic Lamp Cassie Crow found herself descending into darkness, then into bright sunshine, then into darkness once more. What had happened? It must be magic! The Crow family had some meta-curse. Cursed to be cursed. Every hex and ill omen seemed to be compelled to find its way to her. Surely, this strange tale had to be the work of some curse… maybe from a fairy. The darkness came first, the feeling of plunging from the mundane world to the magical one. Then, bright sunshine, dry heat, sand in in the air. She was in a desert, or some equatorial land. On a rope, held by a brightly coloured man of red and orange cloth and an unusual turban. The man had a well oiled moustache and beard, and a greedy grin showing off not one but two golden teeth. Cassie knew him to be a sorcerer, but knew not how she knew. He was lowering into a cave. A cave filled with strange and exotic treasured. But she was not here for gold or silver. The Sorcerer had persuaded her to find a magic lamp. Cassie Crow, the famed archaeologist, could hardly resist raiding a tomb. It was just the job for an adventurous young woman with woven hair and a crop top. And silver slippers and silk trousers that blossomed in the wind. And a magic ring upon her finger, lent by the sorcerer above. The cave was dim, but the snake eyes of Cassie could see in the blackest of caves. Silver and gold glinted, but she paid it no heed. She was a thief, but cared not for wealth. There! The lamp! An oil lamp the locals called a Chirag. Not much to catch the eye, amidst the precious metals around it, but Cassie knew better. This was a magic lamp. She held it in her hands, studying the craftsmanship; good, but not great. This was not a masterpiece, it was simply a well-wrought piece of functional craftsmanship. It did much more than merely burn oil and provide illumination, but Cassie dared not delve into such sorcery. It was dangerous. She started climbing back up the rope, lean muscles more than capable of pulling up her slender frame. As she reached the top, she passed the lamp to the grinning sorcerer, whose eyes glinted with glee as he saw the artifact. As soon as he had the prized object in his hand, he drew a curved dagger from his belt. Cassie’s eyes widened in shock as the evil magician slashed the rope. “No!” she yelled in fear and fury as she plummeted down the cave into darkness. Her body slammed against rock, expelling every morsel of air from her lungs and threatening to snap her ribs. It was painful, but it could have been a lot worse. She was still breathing and her spine had not splintered. What to do? Cassie could see in the darkness, but how much did that help? She was in a cave with one, and only one, exit – straight above her. She tried climbing, but climbing sheer rock that veered towards you was beyond impossible. She searched the gold and silver, but what use were ornaments and coins? They would not even chip the rock. Why didn’t they make a silver ladder, the fools! Minute by minute, Cassie’s desperation and fear grew, every failed attempt to find a climbing angle or useful artifact just piled on the despair. How was she going to get out of this fine mess? Her breathing became hysterical, her eyes started to water, and she rubbed her hands in agitation. Behold! The magic ring had been rubbed! In front of her, a shimmering silver Djinn! “What is thy wish, oh master?” “Who are you?” asked the gobsmacked Cassandra Crow. “I am the one who grants wishes!” “And who is the one that grants wishes?” “The one who, when asked what he does, grants wishes. And you have had two already!” “How ma--- no, wait. That would be the third. Hmmm…” Cassie had no idea how many wishes the Djinn would grant, but three sounded an appropriately mystical number. Did questions really count as Wishes? My, that Djinn was a tricksy one – was he really even playing fair? “Take me to the magical lamp!” If she only had one wish, it was time to wish for some more wishes. Haha! Surely nobody had ever thought of that cunning trick before! In a puff of magical blue smoke, Cassandra Crow was in the sorcerer’s tower. The ceiling and walls were draped with rich azure silks, gently ruffling in a light breeze. A suspicious scent wafted through the air courtesy of a burning incense. And the lamp! In the fat fingers of the sorcerer, who sprawled over pumped cushions. Fortunately, the sorcerer was not expecting Cassie to magically appear in front of him, or he might have been faster with his rubbing. He started to rub the lamp, but a silver slippered foot kicked the wishing device out of his hand. Then, a ferocious punch struck his head so hard that his jowls wobbled. “But… but!” he blubbered. “No buts, foul, backstabbing sorcerer! Have you no shame?” “I wished it away! It was an unpleasant emotion.” Cassie sighed. She had to admit, that wasn’t a bad use of a wish. The Sorcerer took a leap after the lamp. It had landed somewhere in his vast array of cushions. He was faster than Cassie would have liked, but she was still faster. Cushions flew this way and that as both of them scrabbled around to find the magic lamp. At several points, cushions were thrown at the antagonist of the contest. It was a cushion fight! Alas, a cushion fight that had a winner (unlike most cushion fights that simply continued until exhaustion and laughter laid the contestants low and the contest was drawn). This fight would end in a contestant rubbing one out. A djinn, that is. Cassie and the sorcerer found the lamp at the same time, and rubbed it at the same time. A djinn appeared! Bigger, stronger, bluer than the lesser djinn of the ring. “What is they bidding, masters!” “Get rid of ---” started the Sorcerer, before Cassie karate-chopped his throat. He gurgled, unable to finish his sentence. “Get me out of this place!” shrieked Cassie. “Get me back home. I mean, not this home, the home that’s not in this place…” She paused, grabbing her breath and thoughts and trying to piece them into a proper wish. “Take me back to Freedom City, when I was snakebite! Take me back to the reality I belong!” “My most mighty magic will needed for such a magnificent feat!” proclaimed the Djinn as he cracked his knuckles. His brow furrowed in deep concentration, the Djinn waved his hands in the air, causing the very reality to start to shimmer, sparkle, and shine. There was the most awful dragging sensation, as Cassandra Crow felt herself pulled – or was it pushed – across strange dimensions, some pleasant, some disturbing, most peculiar and all disorientating. Until she was back in Freedom City, in (one of her) homes, her silver slippers replaced by pink fluffy ones, her silk garments replaced by a burgundy dressing gown. Home sweet home. For there was nothing quite so strange and magical as Freedom City!

Again, largely cosmetic, but Baz is going to warm up and light up the land around them - maybe a 20' radius, normal warmth, bright light. Leaving out the radioactive part

Gamma Buzz Baz crawled back unto land, not cold, but certainly wet. "Mizuki you got to teach me how to swim. I mean, I can dive into the water pretty cool, though, right?" He shook himself as he stood up. "Crazy guy!" he said, wagging a stubby finger at the man. "What happened? Did you jump, did you push? And... are you ok?" He looked ok, but Baz was half asleep during the first aid class. "I mean you must be cold, right?" Once again, Baz streamed his radioactive radiation into the ground, which started to glow green and warm...

Anyone want to go bluff / diplomacy / intimidate, feel free to make the rolls. no sense motive needed - the Chuggers clearly are guilty. They aint even pretending otherwise, they just arent admitting to anything!

GM The fat man laughed. "Geddalowdofthis! I ain't no sir, and I ain't no good neither." He spat on the ground. "Artifacts. Now we dont know nuthin about that. Sounds mighty fancy though, maybe you should go look in library or something?" The Chuggers laughed. At least the good cheer made them less trigger happy. "We just good old community motorcycle enthusiasts." He mopped his brow. "Although you do have a point about the heat. It ain't natural, thats for sure. What you know about it?" The suspicious eyebrows were raised once more, and hands moved a few millimetres nearer knives and pistols.

GM The Gold--- frothed! It seethed and spat and swirled and staggered. It was if the angry curse was actually trying to push back at Nightscale! Visions of slavery and vengeance, of pillaging and looting once again assaulted the young heroes brain. Angry and unpleasant and best - furious and revolting at worst. And yet, for all the psychic turmoil that lay in the Gold, the dragon's spell appeared to be working. It bubbled less, and the vortex-drill started to slow. With a final quiver of slumbering rage, the gold stopped moving at all. Sea water was still seeping in; up to the boots now, sloshing and cold (it was a cold night and a cold ocean!). It would be hard to guess when the ship would sink; not days, not seconds. The sea water sloshed a little higher. Rusty metal groaned. And the sound of gunfire from the docks grew louder.

Bingo!

Opposed power check please? I havent got Oroukous to hand on my laptop so can you trust me with a manual d20? Click-click-tappity-tap... 14

GM There were about a half dozen bikers lounging around. It was too hot for leathers. Tank tops and vests, jeans, dark glasses were the order of the day. A few gloves, poking around engines. Tattoos, plenty. The apparent leader of the Chuggers - or at least this group of them, was a dark skinned man with long hair and an impressive beard, both flecked with grey. He was bare chested, but fat. A closer look-and one would see that he was strong, as well. He had more than a few scars, and a knife at his belt that said he wasn't afarid to get more. A few of the others had guns, but it seemed that fists and knives were more fun to the Chuggers. The leader spat out on the dust below him. "You been looking for us. Why?" Professor Armitage hissed to Blackstaff, a low whisper. "I can protect myself against sorceries. But not bullets. I hope you can provide due protection..."

GO with heating and lighting the water up then (normal heat, sunlight). Green light, of course. INteresting; its an independent extra so once irradiated Baz doesn't need to keep it up. Normally- but with water I imagine the water will swish around and disperse the charged H20 molecules. So yeah, probably in that circumstances does have to keep it up!

Diving into to follow the man, although this is really Torpedo Lass's thing, so Baz is going to play second fiddle! If the water really is extremely cold, he could irradiate it (Environmental effect, Heat) Just a quick question - is it night / dark etc?

Gamma Buzz Baltazar hopped from foot to foot. "Sea!" "Man!" "Help!" The Cockroach kid didn't do well in water. He was not worse than any other kid, he just couldn't leap and cartwheel around like he could above water. He couldn't breathe underwater, or super swim. But the man was in trouble, so Baz really had no choice. The water was absolutely freezing, but at least that wasn't a problem for Baz, who was warmed by an internal nuclear furnace. "Oh well!" With a huge leap into the air, he dove into the water and started pounding the water with mighty Gamma Buzz arms!

Throwing a Fallout Bomb (from radioactive array) Not sure of the positioning here so whatever you feel works target wise. Trying to get Djinn and Geometer for starters. If he can get more, great. He can control the cloud area (And it will be a cloud, for better or worse!) from 1'-50' so I guess he will at least be able to get a couple in. Its a Nauseate (DC 15) effect with the contagious extra (once they glow green, then can nauseate anyone else who touches them!) Which may not be wise (although Baz is immune to all radiation effect), but then Radiation is dangerous, kids!

Gamma Buzz Baltazar only half understood what was going on. "Half" would have been generous. But he did know he was a puppet on a string, and it made him furious. Unless the puppeteer is making me furious? In which case, he better not be furious. Out of spite. Wait... unless the puppeteer has made me chose not be furious because I am a puppet and that makes me furious. He blinked, wondered whether the puppeteer had made him blink, and decided to put the whole philosophical mess in the bucket of "uh?". Relieved, he allowed himself to be furious again. His hands glowed green. In a second, a glowing green ball of gas formed between his hands. Supercharged radioactive air. Baz leant back and hurled it like a basketball towards what he guessed where the antagonists of the story (although he was fully expecting some switcharoo). In a furious puff, the ball exploded into a glowing green cloud. Little droplets of sparkling green light fell slowly to the floor like feathers.

That will do nicely; If you are up to it, you can narrate asking around for the Chuggers HQ (which is essentially a chop shop near the docks) - will take about an hour.

Just in case it provides any information - -IR vision on the Kid. Is the child the correct temperature? or is it a nuclear bomb enchanted with Vulcan magic?

Gamma Buzz With another leap and flip, Gamma Buzz was on one of the walls of a nearby building, peering at the most peculiar scene. His eyes glowed slightly; ready to stream out charged green particles-his amazing "laser" vision. Lawrence may have frozen a dinosaur, but to put the whole thing in context: a talking T-Rex had just stomped down a street. Anything could happen. Another day in Freedom City. And there was the kid. "What the flipping flip is happening?" he shouted at the Kid. "Going back where? Who are you?" The Kid might have been an andriod electro-bomb ninja, or something. Best to be alert! What was its temperature, for starters? Regular for a kid?

GM The noise came to abrupt stop. Squeaking came from below the Truck. The purple oil oozed through cracks in the road tarmac. John could smell the fumes; like vinegar, like poison. Whatever it was, he could feel the chemical seep ingo his body, lashing it somehow, but flailing hopelessly. Whatever the chemical was, it didn't work on dead men. Or men that had been dead. But it was seeping out of the truck faster and faster. And Bedlam never slept. Like a gunshot, three rats scuttled out of the bottom of the truck. Not normal rats, either! maybe two feet long, with hands and feet that looked suspiciously simian, with faces that looked suspiciously human. Gorilla - Rats! They were fast - rushing towards an alley filled with garbage...