Supercape

"It always is with demons" said Pitch, as the smoking of her body stopped and she reverted to her normal costume - not vastly different but a little more subdued. "You can take offence at that if you wish, Nikki. I can't trust you yet, perhaps I never can. As you say, you lot are complicated. But consider yourself a couple of rungs up the ladder from the Abyss" she conceded. She fingered the Cantos cane, peering at the Hellhound. "Well, this sounds rough. And if its in holy ground, I will have to pull Tazel out of my belly. Bad as he is, he does help me look smoking hot" she said, with a curl of her lip, as the last of the smoke she had belched drifted lazily skyward. "So we may need reinforcements. Like this dog.." she said more firmly, reaching out to put the Cane firmly against the Hellhounds forehead with a hiss and a horrible shrieking from the goats head at its tip...

GM The ground was a slightly different consistency to the forest, but the foilage was the same - if anything, it was more dense. When Hronos looked at the arms and armor of the Spaniards, and there clothes and undergarments, they were all in keeping with everything he knew about the 15th and 16th Century style. Perfect in every detail - at least from what his flawless memory had committed to his brain after reading about them. As he went about his task, he saw a familiar sight. The three indentions of a tripod, and a series of proto-writings virtually the same as the ones he had seen in Freedom City Park... "<uuuuhhhh. Goooold....Goooold>" mumbled the less bright Spaniard, to himself and anyone who would care to hear. Presumably his relative lack of wit had served him well when punched in the head. He had blocked any attack to the more vital organs with his brain. "<Demon! Spare my soul!>" he whimpered when his drowsy eyes met Hronos.

You are quite sure the Spaniards are, in fact, genuine Conquestadors. Someone could have done a pretence, but all details of armor, appearance and language are absolutely in keeping with the real article. You see some similar tripod markings and ancient scratchings on the ground!

GM Lord Harrow's eyes glinted slightly in an ambigious manner as the stopwatch was mentioned. Then he hung his head. "Yes. Yes. That's probably for the best" he explained. "It has an influence on me I can't quite seem to control. Or shake. It seemed to distort my vision. I..can't quite describe it. And I'm not sure it was malign or benign. It was, well...it was odd..." Clear head... He turned to the sky, still snowing in a rather delightful way from the whirlwind that Velocity had created. The avalanche had been launched to the sky and now was softly coming down. Snow landed on his face and he closed his eyes, feeling the gently drops of cold on his skin. "Take it away. I have something else to love" he said, without moving.

NPC Yes! Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the back of the bodyguard. He had no doubt that he had been lucky to pull that off. Under normal circumstances it would have been a tall over, even for his experienced and honeyed tongue, but he smelled the faint aura of panic that had wafted around the building. In such circumstances, in his experience, rational thought atrophied. He scuttled along at a hectic pace, keen to catch up with Hector and the bodyguards. Last thing he needed was to be caught out in the open. The fear of catching a stray bullet was enough to propel his feet to what, if he had stopped to think about it, would be an even greater danger. "Hold up! Hold up! Wait for me!" he yelled at the door, running towards it with an adrenaline soaked pace. What the hell am I doing? Running into the unknown with a bunch of hardened fighters! His feet, accostomed as they were to running, did not slow down on account of the logic seeping into his brain.

GM "<The Devils Hands!>" "<Not the face! Not the face!>" "<Lord lend me thy almighty strength and stri....oooof!>" The three Spaniards fell to the floor to the sound of a barrage of rings - metal against metal. When they fell to the soft moss of the Forest floor their armour had received a powerful beating, and was decorated with a multitude of dents and bends that ill suited them. If the men had been conscious, they would have found it most unpleasant. Then - there was silence. An unnatural silence, perhaps. Like the wind had died down, or the twittering of birds had stopped. The temperature was slightly warm, slightly hot, as if a summer clime, but the air was clean. Freedom City was still in the distance. It was still the twenty first century, but Hronos felt that a whole lot of America from five centuries back had been dragged to this point.

All three hit, and KO them all. 1d20+8=18, 1d20+8=9, 1d20+8=11

GM "<Withcraft! Devilry! Sorcery!>" "<Gooooooooooooooooooooooooollllllllllllllllllllllllllllllldddddddddddddddddd>" Said the intellectually challenged Spaniard, his voice crawling to a stop as he froze in time. A few of the Conquestadors pushed through the field by force of will. "<What foulness have you done, metal demon? Stolen the souls of good men! I defy you! A man's life has no price! We shall tear his soul back from you, have courage comrades!>" shouted one, lifting his sword and bringing it down on Hronos. The men were adept swordsmen, well able to handle both blade and musket. Under normal circumstances, they would have continue their work on Hronos, but they had been overcome by unusual slowness, the essence of time taking the sting out of the steel they held...

1d20+4=21, 1d20+4=7, 1d20+4=19, 1d20+4=5, 1d20+4=8, 1d20+4=10 One makes the reflex save 1d20+6=17, 1d20+6=24, 1d20+6=19, 1d20+6=23, 1d20+6=12, 1d20+6=10 No 1 makes it on the basis of his reflex roll, no 2 and 4 make it on the basis of just making it. As they are minions, I will rule that they are totally time stopped and out of combat, Frozen / Unconscious. (Would not paralyse be a more appropriate effect by the way?) Anyway that brings us to: Round 3: 20 - Conquestadors [3] - Unharmed 19 - Hronos - Injured - 0 HP The spanish devils will continue bashing Hronos with swords! 1d20+5=6, 1d20+5=10, 1d20+5=10 which, even if you are distracted (flat footed) is spectacularly bad. Ill put that down to temporary time effects slowing their swords! Hronos is up!

GM "<I hit him! I hit him!>" yelled the slightly denser of the group, a younger man with a huge black beard, huge nose, and eyes that sat a little too close together for comfort. How he had managed to put a bullet in Hronos was pure luck. "<Praise God! The Devil is down! Thankyou, Lord for dry powder and your divine power of which there is no equal! Verily you doth guide the path of our.,..>" "<Draw swords! Charge!>" said a more practical and less long winded member of the half dozen men, at which they - as a unit - drew thick sabres and charged Hronos, beating him left and right with well forged Spanish steel. "<Take that, Pagan!>" shouted one. "<By the power of the ever-merciful God! Die!>" screamed another.

So, on to Round 2: 20 - Conquestadors [6] - Unharmed 19 - Hronos - Bruised - 1 HP Conq: Draw swords and CHAAAARGE!!!! This gives them -2 Defence and +2 Attack, and takes them to melee range. 1d20+7=23, 1d20+7=11, 1d20+7=22, 1d20+7=19, 1d20+7=20, 1d20+7=24 No criticals this time! however, that is five hits, at DC 20!

Thats a daze and bruise! would you like to post / react / burn HP for your delayed action this round?

GM "<The Devil Speaks! Listen not to his forked tongue! He seeks to tempt you to the ways of Satan with honeyed words!>" "<Verily! Words of Sorcery! See how he weaves a web of lies, invoking the nothingness of the void! We shall not have our souls taken to such oblivion! Nay! The Everlasting Paradise for us! For King and God! For King and God!>" "<And gold!>" echoed the less than eloquent voice, adding further weight to the limited intellectual capacity of one of their number. The Conquestidors, for all their lack of wit and flexibility of mind, were of singular purpose in warfare. They were trained and effective. Taking cover behind trees, they unleashed a volley of musketshot at Hronos, the blackpowder sizzling and smoking...

Conq: Move Action: Take [Partial] Cover Behind Trees Standard Action: Fire Muskets! 1d20+5=25, 1d20+5=14, 1d20+5=13, 1d20+5=18, 1d20+5=16, 1d20+5=9 One Critical Hit: a DC 24 Toughness Roll!

1d20+2=20 for the Conq. Round 1: 34 - Hronos - Unharmed - 1 HP 20 - Conquestadors [6] - Unharmed Hronos is up. Due to the relatively thick nature of the Forest, I will say that you are separated by twenty feet, and there is partial cover against ranged attacks. A move action would allow you to line up against one target without partial cover.

"A secret school? for telekinetics? no way!" retorted Carmen, genuinely surprised, her bruised body forgotten. Tazel! Stop Right There! Ill pick you up! Go no further! she yelled at her bane through the ether and brimstone of horrible dimensions. The last thing she wanted was Tazel to know about something that it seemed even she shouldn't know. What? Why? Have you found something...interesting? Curse you! Carmen ignored the imp, turning her attention back to Kit. "Well I have enough people...and, err...other stuff on my back for a few lifetimes. I certainly don't want any more hassle. Cant you spirit me out of here? make me invisible or drag me to some seedy back alley?" she asked. "I can jump through fires, but I don't want to set the school alight..." she explained.

GM "<Good God! An English Heretic! What foul sorcery is this flying man in most exotic armor!>" "<Come to steal the Gold of the Seven Cities! To fund the heretic bastard Queen's armies of Godless fiends!>" "<To convert the pagan's of this land to the foul heresies of the English Church!>" "<Never! For God and King! For the souls of the poor Godless of this Land! We shall not let them burn in the fires of hell! We shall save them!>" "<For the Gold!>" came a last voice, somewhat more dense than his fellows. The Conquestidors drew sabres and cocked muskets, intent to do battle with the "<English Sorcerer!>" Hronos...

they are conquestidors! John Smith is not around... Heathen Metal Man! Initiative Roll please!

With the cut, resetting Hronos to: Hronos - 1 HP - Unharmed COuld you throw me a notice roll, a history roll, a diplomacy roll (at -5 due to language blunder!)

GM January 10th, 2013 Wharton Forest was just as green and leafy as Freedom City park. But bigger, and more remote. True, there were backpackers, and trekkers, and those who just wanted a day out. But it wasn't even half as busy as the centre of the park. "<By our good Lord, what just happened?>" said one Conquestidor, in a thick and old Spanish accent. "<I not not! Some Aztec sorcery! Just as we landed!>" cursed another, bringing his musket to bear on nothing in particular. "<Tis a fearsome land, this new world! May God guide us true through the heathens and bring his word!>" "<Yes, yes! For God and King! Gold and Glory!>" they cheered, drawing swords and hoisting them high. A temporal disturbance had pinged straight into Hronos artificial brain. Old circuits briefly flared. A time jump, with the precise location given...

GM "Ohoho!" laughed Harrow blithely at Fenris face. "I did no such thing! In case you hadn't noticed, we were just hunted by a group of invisible agents from the future who, it seems, can change their appearance at will. Very admirable - I guess they want to avoid detection and be as subtle as possible. And then you go and accuse me of impersonation? Check the Katsatov records, I was with the watch the whole time. Unless you somehow subscribe to the belief I can multiply myself and be in two places at once, I would engage brain before mouth!" he laughed. There was no mistaking it. Whilst he was possessed of an aristocrat's confidence, he showed no indication of lying or bluff. "So, arrest me if you want. And I'll sue you to hell and back. You have absolutely no evidence on me at all. Now, where is Megan?" he asked, ignoring the armored superhero.

GM A little later still... Professor Brix was a man in his mid thirties, all floppy hair and dashing good looks. He peered at Hronos through spectacles that Hronos was pretty sure were just plain glass (as opposed to corrective lenses). He had clearly be chosen for his TV face and geeky sex appeal. He was all confidence and smiles. He probably wasn't the best history professor in the City, but he wasn't a charlatan either. "Well this is fascinating" he said to the camera as Hronos showed him the memorised scratchings. "Extremely primitive. Similar markings have been found in cave paintings, believed to represent some pagan rituals with magical qualities, a way of making rain, or protection? we can only wonder at these proto-writings, which must date back to at least 10,000BC!!!"

GM Cold. Halfway down the slope. It feels so cold. Just...empty. But...I'm thinking clearly. Like I woke up, or came round. Cold. Clear. Robert Harrow shook his head. It was the first time since the Stopwatch had activated that he had not been within a few yards of the device. It infected me. He concluded. A not altogether unpleasant infection. But something about him made him feverish. "I'll go where I please, thank you" he said, not at all fancy to the idea of getting into legal problems. "After all, I'm not under arrest, am I? What crime have I committed? stealing my own property? I inflicted no bodily damage on anybody. I damaged no property. Just be thankful I'm not going to press charges against you for throwing me down a ski slope. Could have killed me." His eyes glanced over Fenris, trying to spot the Stopwatch, before shaking his head. No. Clear your head. He dusted some of the snow off him, scanning the slope for Megan...

"Spiritis ludicii?" said Rene, pondering the group. It was as good a name as any. "But you make good point" he conceded. "If my experience of this spirit is any guide, then manipulation is her bread and meat. It is quite possible that the Priory is just a pawn in her scheme, not possessed of rhyme nor reason" He was, he admitted, disinclined to think well of the Priory, if they wished to undo the Revolution. So much blood had been spilled for its cause - a cause he passionately believed in - that to contemplate that its brutal cost was for nothing was more than he could bear. "Their...unusual views have still lit the fuse, however. And we must act. What course to do you advise then, Father? I applaud Prudence, but it must be tempered by necessity!"

GM Jessica listened intently, but her eyes glazed over slightly, and she stifled a yawn half way through. By the end of Hronos Monologue, she jumped awake. For a Journalist, she must have been very talented to get by with the attention span of a goldfish. Truth was she was a gossip, pazzaz, shock type of journalist. She needed things short, snappy, and sexy. How am I gonna sex up a robot? she asked herself. Before reassuring herself with DINOSAUR! thoughts. She brought up a hand and sliced her throat, rolling her eyes at the poor cameraman, who groaned again. "Yeah yeah, real interesting!" she smiled at Hronos. "Or at least it will be with a brutal hour in the editing room. We'll add some graphics to, make you sparkle and shine! the viewers will love that. Hey, maybe we can get you a gig promoting some oil polish for metal?" "Oh yeah, and you wanted some help? well I can put you anywhere, honey. Sounds like you need some historian or something, yeah? I can set you up with Professor Brix if you want. He's our sexed up history professor. Real dishy!"