Supercape

Gamma Buzz Baz coughed up the last of the pool water from what was, loosely speaking, his lungs. "Right, snorkelling next! Thats the one when you have a tube in your mouth and go diving, right?" he asked, mimicing holding a tube as if a dog was holding a bone; quite the wrong way. "As for swimming, who needs to swim when you can dive as awesome as me, right?" he added, doing a 720 flip in the air. There was some merit in what he said; on land was about as agile as they came. "And what's for dinner? My internal nuclear fires don't run on water, you know!" He paused. "Or wait... maybe they do? But I am hungry all the same!"

Ok so both of you avoided the tentacles! I dont really mind who acts first so roll initiative is that is important, or go ahead an act/react in IC/OOC!

Gamma Buzz "No leaping? No radiation? Hmph." Gamme Buzz rolled his eyes. "Well I guess you have the brains and we will be using tactics. So I guess I'll follow your lead. But if you need me to leap into action and emit green radiation, how about you use a code word?" He scratched his antenna. "Just say... BANNER! yes, just slip the word BANNER! in and Ill jump in ready to throw my amazing gamma radiation about! That would be neat, huh?"

Echohead in Brave? No, a little chicken. A long time ago, in a land far far away… Umberto Velluti arrived. The brain-stealing gardener from Freedom City also known as Echohead. Perhaps it was a dream. Perhaps he was the dream. Perhaps his strange psychic powers had caused some cosmic ripple in the psychoverse. Or perhaps this was magic. Fairy magic. Whatever the reason, he was covered in feathers. An anthropomorphic chicken. “Quack”, he went. “Quack quack…” He coughed and spluttered and forced is vocal chords to rearrange themselves back to a more human, less chicken form. He wasn’t even sure chickens went Quack. Ducks did. What did chickens do? Whatever the truth, his altered voice was psychosomatic. Once he had fully reminded himself he was a human, not a bird, he found himself able to speak normally. With only a touch of quack. He surveyed the surroundings. In this fairy tale reality he was without his glasses; he had no electronic HUD giving in depth analysis of things such as time and distance. He was in some idyllic countryside. Water splashed along a stream, green grass wafted in a cool zephyr. The sun shone high, the trees blossomed, and in the distance one could only see pleasantly rolling hills. It all looked very frightening. To cap it all, he was not only without his super-glasses, he was without his super-suit. Made from the finest impervium weave, it could stop a bullet in its tracks. And yet now he only had flesh, bone, and feathers to protect him from assault. He doubted the feathers were bullet proof. The terror! Plus, he didn’t look cool. At all. A chicken-man without any super cool glasses and with out any super cool costume. His fear was so heightened, than when a simple acorn dropped on his head, he nearly jumped out of his skin. And out of his feathers. He felt his body launch ten feet in the air, and his heart ten feet further. As it was, his feet never left the ground, although he felt quite dizzy. He took his pulse – a habit of fear – and tried to take the pulse. It felt like it was around two hundred and fifty. That was not good. The terror of his high heart rate forced is heart rate even further. His mind cartwheeled around all the cardiac diseases and symptoms that might manifest. And no defibrillator in sight! With the greatest of effort, he ignored his jack hammer heart and the icy sheen of sweat on his skin (and feathers). He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, determined that he would die of a myocardial infarction, not hyper ventilation. He was just about reaching normal physiological parameters (for a terrified chicken-man) when a thought struck him. Where did the acorn come from? He was not under a tree. There were no rapscallions using acorns in their sling shots. He gazed upwards. Just the sky. The clouds. Wait! They appeared nearer! That was it! Said his fiery limbic system. The sky is falling! A new and profound terror gripped his feathers (actually causing a few to fly off). He ran around in circling, quacking, hopping from foot to foot. His bald scalp had no hair to tear out, so he made do with plucking his own feathers. “The sky is falling! Raise the Quacklarm! The sky is falling! Raise the quacklarm!” And so on and so forth until the Quacklarm (whatever that was) had be raised in every nook and cranny of the pleasant green fields, and Umberto Velluti’s voice was hoarse from shouting. The enchanted denizens of this enchanted land had gathered, everyone of them anthropomorphical and able to speak spiffy English as well as any human (lips and tongues clearly not a necessity in this land, thanks to magic!) The gregarious goose. The badgering badger. The meek mouse. The silly sheep. And the completely trustworthy and not at all hungry Fox. Off they went to warn the king that the sky was falling. “You will all be my best friends!” said the gregarious goose. “Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” said the badgering badger. “…” squeaked the meek mouse. “Juniper crossbit wobblefarm” said the Silly Sheep, who was very silly. “Would you all like to come to my lair I mean my home to be my, I mean to have dinner?” said the completely trustworthy Fox. Something about the words, and the way the Fox said them (drooling, with a lolling tongue licking his lips and very sharp teeth) but Umberto on edge. But after all, if the sky was falling perhaps it would be better to be in somebodies home. Better shielding. “Does you home have reinforced steel buttresses that might mitigate the devastation caused by a falling sky?” asked Umberto. For a moment, he wondered if a sky could fall. It was air, wasn’t it? With a bit of moisture? And rain hardly hurt. But that was in the proper world, with proper rules. This was a fairy world, and nothing made sense. It was terrifying! It was but a short walk through the fields and streams (or in some cases, waddling or scuttling) to reach the trustworthy Fox’s abode. It was a hole in the ground. “VISITORS ARE MOST WELCOME” said the sign. Umberto arched an eyebrow, something instinctive and paranoid reacting to the sign, telling him it could be read in more than one way. But it was less scary than the falling sky, so he went in, followed by his animal chums. The Foxs home was not in the best of shape. There were some decorations, some furniture, but all were rickety and makeshift at best. The only testament to any kind of home-loving were some sharp kitchen knives and plates. And a sign that declared, proudly, “Put yourself on the table,” with a cheeky picture of a grinning fox. “You all look delicious,” said the Fox, licking his lips. “uh…” said a chorus of worried animals, no longer so worried about the sky falling. It was now apparent that the apparently trustworthy Fox may not have been quite so trustworthy after all. He pounced! Teeth glinting in the pale light of his lair. CHOMP! CHOMP-CHOMP! Went his teeth! “But we were friends!” complained the Gregarious goose, as its head came off. “Let me go! Let me go!” shouted the Badgering badger, as it was bitten in half. “…” said the Meek mouse, as it was swallowed hole. “Cheddar mongoose boomerang!” declared the Silly sheep, as it was eaten, silly to the last morsel. “Oh deary me!” said Umberto, the last standing. “I feel like chicken tonight!” proclaimed the ravenous Fox, picking a few sheep hairs out of its rather long and rather sharp teeth. “Mama!” cried Umberto, trembling as the Fox closed its huge jaws around his bald head… …only for Umberto to wake up, drenched in sweat, in his Freedom City gardening shop, clutching his bedsheets. It was only a dream, he told himself. Probably, his fear added.

Clinked off the metal! So Nightscale is up!

Once we have a tough save for Chimera, Nightscale is up!

GM Machete Max was on two legs and an arm, his stance like a Parkour artist, or perhaps some fictional Russian super spy named after a deadly arachnid. "Silver lady!" he retorted to Chimera. "De time for words be gone. I be speakin wit de dead now!" He rolled, he scutlled, and with surprising speed, he had managed to reach Chimera and spin; his Machete slicing through the air at an akward angle, going for her legs. "Dis' towrn be killin by de Blowfish! I be taking de streets back!"

So Machete Max is up He will scuttle to Chimera (move action) and chop with a choppity machete. 25 which i believe hits. A DC 20 Toughness save for Chimera

Ah its on the same planet - my mistake Ill edit for sub light travel. Xeno is still pretty fast - Flight 16 so a bit above 250 miles / second. Dont know the diameter of the planet but if its earth (8000miles), half that, 4000 miles, it would be 16 seconds!

Yeah two saves (unless you have evasion) So Golden Star avoids (the first save to lower the DC for the second save to DC 14) @Spacefurrycould you roll the second DC? (Its 14 now as you passed the Area: Reflex save)

Ooops! Corrected!

I think Doc and I thought it was time to set the solar sails and arrive at destination (see last IC post), but let me know if you wanted any thing else before we warp factored - will gladly edit.

Starshot "Right," said Starshot with his characteric slight, lopsided grin and fire in his eyes. The scarred skin on his left might be the cause of the lopsided grin. But it was the lust for adrenaline that lit his eyes. He took Doctor A to the bridge, which had the same sleek look. The Xeno was a yacht; Starshot was a man who prioritised functionality, who would happily sleep under the stars and travel in worn boots. But he never objected to a certain flavour of luxury if such presented itself. The Bridge had a stuffed Gorikk Bison head just above the window, its black eyes peering down, its horns magnificently curved. The right flavour of luxury. "Lets be off. I have the course plotted in." The Xeno lifted off, speeding through the atmosphere in a sleek, arrow like dash. In a minute, they had the stars in front of them. "Hold on to your hat, Doc.." grunted Starshot, as the Xeno put forward its full thrust and skirted around the upper layers of the planets atmosphere.

So, we have: Round 1 20 - Machete Max - Unharmed 17 - Nightscale - Unharmed - 6 HP 16 - Gas Man - Unharmed - Prone 14 - Chimera - Unharmed - 5 HP 11 - Blowfish - Unharmed 2 - Zombies [20] - Prone

Gamma Buzz Baz gave the thumbs up. "You bet, Lawrence! Being stealthy is just one of my many amazing cockroach powers!" "Wait, do you have amazing cockroach stealth, too?" he asked Torpedo Lass. "Wait... are we using tactics?" he asked, almost spitting the dirty word. "Fine, fine. Whatever you thinks best. Just tell me what to do as long as its leaping into action emitting huge quantities of harmless lethal radiation!" he said, proudly. He eyes the comlicated web of the amusement rides. "Although those do look fun to leap up with amazing cockroach leaping powers, and crawl along with amazing cockroach wall crawling powers!" he said, his antennae tingling with anticipation.

Gamma Buzz Bazz coughed up water. "What? What-pff like I need swimming lessons. Did you see that leap? It was awesome!" He coughed up some more water. Not just from his mouth. "Besides, one my many amazing cockroach powers is holding my breath! I was in no danger at all, if I remembered to hold my breath. And if I totally wasnt drowning and panicking, even if I looked like it, because that would be uncool. And we all know I am cool, right?" His antenna trembled and he scuttled his gaze left and right. "And well done Parker, you passed my amazing pool lifeguard test that I had totally prepared for you in order to make you look cool in front of all the chicks, right?"

GM It was only half a minute to walk back to the Truck. The Rat-gorilla's were gone, at least to the Tattered Man's uncanny senses. Maybe in some trash pile somewhere, maybe in the sewers. A half dozen curious (and possibly even concerned; Bedlam was not without a few kind hearts) pedestrians had gathered around the stalled and dented truck. A hobo, a drunk, a street cleaner, two men (obviously a couple) high on coffee after a night raving, and a lady of the night who had been trying, unsuccessfully, to sell her services to the couple. All were holding their noses. Yes, the purple liquid oozing from the truck had formed a small pool now, and it did not smell good. It smelled like stale sweat, putrid infection, something organic and unhealthy. Something animal. It was the opposite of perfume; something that augmented the unpleasant natural smells of a man (or woman). And a few of the onlookers were twitching. And a few of the onlookers were looking a bit on the hairy side...

GM The bridge held, and held wonderfully. In single file, the chuggers, the Professor, Mr Dickens and the two superheroes crossed it. To either side, weeds, fetid water, and various swamp wildlife. Frogs, beetles, flies. Strange things squirming in the black water, barely in sight. "This ain't natural" said Fatboy Fats, chewing his lip and clocking his shotgun. "I mean, we got swamps all over in Tezville, but not like this. And a hundred feat from the ocean? This ain't natural. Not natural at all..." He gave a guilty gulp and looked at Blackstaff. "We dealt with some spooky stuff coming in from the coast this winter. And Tezville has always had spooks. But, things have taken a turn. Bad turn. This is magic, ain't it? And not the nice kind?" Blackstaff was the first to notice an increased agitation of the black waters. An increased squirm in the depths. Then a burst of fould bubbles that released a noxious fume into the air. Then, a burst of GIANT TENTACLES! It was hard to count. Maybe two dozen, each as thick as a mans forearm, full of suckers, writhing chaotically, blindly. But effectively! The chuggers were taken up, grappled by the horrific appendages. Fatboy was held twenty feet in the air, firing his shotgun madly at.. at what? The tentacles stretched down to the blackest of the swamp water. It was hard to see if anything was down there at all.

Blackstaff is not flatfooted. But we have an explosion of tentacles! The chugger minions are all grappled. Blackstaff and Golden Star This is an area snare attack. Reflex DC 18 to avoid area attack Reflex DC 18 or 14 to avoid the snare. -2 Penalty to Golden Star for being slightly less on the alert (for this round)

Gamma Buzz "Wheee.... Pool!" Baz had been wide eyed in the journey. He spent his entire life in the Americas, and now he was in Fiji. His jaw was dropping so far below his head he couldn't engage in his normal blurted gabble. But a pool? A pool was fun! He discarded his cheap sunglasses (which he needed, due to his rather light sensitive eyes), and, dressed in swimming trunks only, took a mighty cockroach leap into the pool. SPLASH! Baz flailed around in the pool, somewhat stunned by his bellyflop. He could swim, he could hold his breath. But he swam like a brick that had taken a post graduate course in brickness. "Help! Help!" he coughed, splashing about in the surface.

I think we can wave that all - zombies are not agile! All the zombies are prone. Machete Max is not going to bother even resisting - he drops to the floor, now able to properly use is Prone Fighting feat! Blow Fish will try to stay upright: with bonuses, that would be 19 and 21 so manages to stay upright The Gas Man will also try to stay upright: With bonuses that is 15 and 15 so he is prone. And the unpinned grenade rolls out of his hand... We probably need Init rolls at this point: With bonuses that is 2 for Zombies, 20 for Machete Max, 11 for Blowfish, and 16 for the Gas Man

Its probably a new set of initiative rolls? 16 for Diamondlight

Gamma Buzz "Exactly!" said Baz, giving a brief round of applause. "Well done, Timeout! You passed your security company orientation test. You are one of the four smartest people on this boat, for sure!" His Antennae quivered with the fabrication. "Anyway, that sounds like we need to be on our most super behaviour! Laser beams, baby! Bzzzzt Bzzt! Pow pow!" he added, swinging his fists and making his eyes glow red. "Ahem. And of course all in a strictly legal way that breaks no laws. Which is what legal means, right? Breaking no laws. Except if we need to, of course. Say, does anyone know what the laws are around super heroing any way?" "But never mind laws. They are all boring. Lets do whats right, instead. Lets dock and check things out! Thats my idea, right?" he asked, giving Lawrence a look.

Starshot "Certainly," replied Starshot. The sensor array was linked to the bridge, and impressive - state of the art sensors that could detect life readings and energy readings from hundreds of miles in orbit. It had additional regular radar and atospheric analysis, and was linked to the tchayon communicator system. Starshot showed Doctor A the equipment from inside and outside. "About as good as I can get. Customers on Safari excursions don't like to wait around finding the precise nesting ground of their poisonous snake. Or eel." He gestured to the cargo hold. "I had to pull in some favours from our freinds. The Xeno is a hunting ship, not a science one. But I managed to get enough state of the art laboratory equipment in the hold. Its a bit of a jumble, but its the best they had." Starshot made sure to familiarise Doc with the basic ship layout - the space suits, the infirmary, the quarters. It seemed that Doc A could pick up the precise layout and the feature after the briefest glance. Starshot felt that within a few seconds, the Doctor knew more about the workings of the Xeno than he did!

If its ok may as well make the library and laboratory masterwork (+2 bonus) as thats 4 EP? Had a look at Doks ship, and its actually pretty similar to the Xeno. Xeno is unarmed but faster and arguably better equipped for hunting (complete with ATV) so probably better to use that. Of course, we dont know what we will be fighting!