Supercape

"What wizardry is this?" inquired Rene, examining the hovering Grav-cycle. "Japanese I expect. Very nice lines. Exotic structure. Ze flow of machine and steel is peculiar but pleasing!" he commented, tapping it gently. "You won't find me riding it, of course!" he said stiffly. Turning his attention to the painting, he stroked the edge of the canvas. "Most unusual this one. Done in ze depths of sleep. Such things are powerful and, like dreams, not entirely in ones control, or, for that matter, entirely out of it...as the impossible advice goes...expect the unexpectable!" And with that, he plunged his hand into the painting, and grabbed Marceau and his vehicle with the other, pulling them through the most extraordinary, vivid, and wonderous process into England...

"That's a dirty business" replied Carmen, fingering her stick. Fire me up Tazel... As she spoke, her eyes flared with black smoke and red fire, her clothes seemed to burn, peel, char. Smoke and sulfur wafted like oil in the air. "You can call me Pitch" she said, her mouth fuming with smoke and fire. Her clothes were now leather, with bracers and mask and a silk backless top, revealing the full length of the Cantos tattoo. "And I am very interested in sorting out this mess. You could call me a cleaner" she smiled, through the wisps of tarry smoke coming from her mouth. Fall all her impressive transformation, the Cantos tattoo still burned, and she still limped. She walked to her Impressive motorcycle and straddled it. "So, for now, consider me...well, maybe not your friend....I don't trust your kind easy. But your comrade!" she said, shaking the Cantos stick to the sky. "Fancy a ride?"

Freddy frowned as the Man stood up to his assault. He would have preferred this was shorter. Perhaps not to short - he was to put on a show after all, but short nonetheless. He wasn't liking it. He took a more agressive stance, advancing steadily but not without caution. Bam, bam, bam...a short but sweet series of blows to the man, to the side, chest, and head. But the man had a steel jaw today. Dammit... He advanced once more, batting aside some ineffectual blows from the man, who perhaps was a little shaken. Again, he struck a series of three blows - hard and fast. He could have winded the guy, or kicked him, but he played fair. If he was boxing, as opposed to fighting, he would box. The man was impressive, he gave him that. Not as skilled, or strong as he was, but he didn't back down. By the time he finally sunk the man to his knees, the Mess was breathing hard.

Another straightforward box, unshifted 1d20+10=29 Not using Improved Crit 1 as that represents dirty fighting and he has a code of honor. A straight DC 23 Toughness.

1d20+10=16

Right then, Mess will hit a bit harder - non shifted attack! 1d20+10=15

1d20+12=24 Thats a bruise, and dazed, which means he is knockbacked 2500 feet into the ocean! Post away. Crimson Tiger is up!

Carmen hardly blinked as Nikki turned into a horned beast. It was, after all, what she expected. "The real you is just what I want to see" she replied, deadpan. She felt her years worth of distrust for such creatures begin to crumble at the edges. I can't trust them...not ever...can I? The question was to herself but unconsciously she seeped in to Tazel too. "Put down that shotgun, Axel, for now. I think Roseus is something a little more exotic than the usual beast..." she explained, gently reaching up and pressing the barrel down. Not sure buckshot would do the job anyway... "Uranium doesn't sound much more reassuring than military bases" she explained. "Exactly what is this piece of land? and what, exactly, are you up to?"

It does, my apologies for getting it wrong!

Resolving that now: 1d20+10=15 so you can move that. You aren't an expert in ships, so I will make that a DC 5 INT check to see how to turn it off. In the mean time, Tsunami is up!

The Mess knew he was a good boxer. Some would say a very good one. But he knew he wasn't the best. There were plenty of boxers who were as good, and many who were better. He knew that well enough - one rule of the streets was to never underestimate anybody. And least of all a man who had stepped into this ring. He shouldered his arms and took a few cautious steps in. Dude's taller than me, faster maybe, and know's how to box... Still, he could feel his supercharged blood invogorating his muscles...he had the edge, stronger and tougher. Maybe on another day he would have fought him without his improved strength. But today, he felt the weight of importance on him. And besides, he didn't want to be in the ring longer than he should. This whole place made him uneasy, made him feel like a kid again, fighting for the Mafia. He ducked in, quickly, and instead of an uppercut, elected to throw off a quick, but effective, jab into the Man's face.

OK, so Mess will go for a gentle prodding first. Standard Boxers Bluff, at +5 feint: 1d20+5=8 no good. Defensive Attack shifting -4 Att, +4 Defence, then All Out Attack Shifting +4 Att, -4 DC (so, net of +0 Att, -4 DC, +4 Def) 1d20+10=27 I guess that hits? (a DC 21 Tough save) EDIT: An error. As Mess is not pumped up, its just a DC 19 Tough Save!

Well, I have him painting at some early hour in the morning!

GM "The watch? a grip on me?" answered Robert, his eyes widening through tears. For a moment, the old Robert was back, the kindly man she had known at Cambridge. "Impossible!" he retorted as his eyes glazed over with whatever had dulled - or sharpened - his brain. Quick as a flash he moved, more of a blur of thought than a physical being. He moved to slam the watch into Velocity, but held back at the last moment, his face contorted with conflict. "...Impossible!" he repeated, trying to convince himself with a more forceful and determined word. Fast as he was, he pause had given Velocity the time to move. "I won't make the same mistake!" he said, a blur of motion as he snatched up his bag full of equipment...

Gallia...Marianne...Beatrice... The nightmares and vivid dreams swept up Rene with my vigour than usual that night. Perhaps it was the suspicious looking blue cheese he had had at supper. Perhaps it was nature of things. He had been trying to scry Gallia, or - more accurately - her spirit for days, and with little result. Even the usually reliable pool of Parkhurst had not been helpful. Every ritual he had tried was broken, somehow. His mind, he feared, was not completely focussed. His past had tied him up to much, and his concentration was not sufficient. But perhaps, in his sleep, bountiful and mysterious, things had fallen into place... He awoke panting, and sweating, clutching his heart. I'm too old to have a heart attack he reasoned to himself, using the peculiar form of logic only he could muster. Kicking into some slippers and grumbling about the early hour, he shuffled to his loft, holding barely warm coffee and muttering to himself, until his eyes caught site of a painting. By his hand, he knew, but not painted whilst he was waking. "Zut Alors" he saided, almost shouting. "I $£!% against ze hurricane for days, and ze jigsaw is done in my sleep!" He had no idea where he was painting, but he could solve that one. Just step into it. But first... It was early in the morning, but he had to contact Marceau...

Tagged... Im going to go for Rene sleep-painting.

That all works for me! Fenris is up, and between his INT and various abilities and what you described above, I suggest you port into the room at this juncture and describe the above process?

Rene studied the cloth carefully. Beware of Greeks... "Thank you kindly, most noble and resplendent king!" he said, with a seated bow, whilst holding a mug of wine in his hand. "Green is such a difficult color" he said, to the air in general. "But it does attract ze eye to ze form, does it not? It is quite...vivid..." he explained, his eye weaving in a nauseating manner following the silk. The last thing I want to bring back to Earth is a gift from a faerie. I struggle to even accept it - but it seems I shall have to play out this game first... "I am sure ze festivities will be quite ze thing. Like all things here, with more than layer, I should suppose!" he said, batting back another ambiguous comment with his only equally ambiguous response.

Let us say one port out. However, you may wish to clarify how Fenris knows exactly what room in the hotel, and how he finds the hotel. (I.e. This round he can 'port in as his action)

Ill second that. Thanks for GMing!

Good for me

Carmen drummed her fingers on the Cantos devil stick, studying Nikki quietly. Tazel, damn you, what kind of strange beast is she? "Your word is a slippery thing, I am sure. I wonder if I shouldn't make you swear on some infernal sign or foul God. But as you say, this is not a place for such language" She threw a backwards glance at Ironhorse. She couldn't see Axel - perhaps he was checking out those Gaschuggers. Perhaps he was tooling up. At least she could trust him - although she didn't want either of her drinking partners of the evening getting caught in the crossfire. Damn, she had gotten to many people wrapped up in the Cantos way. "Perhaps outside then" she concluded. "The desert sunset is a site to behold" she finished, smashing her drink down her gullet and, with the click of her stick, slowly walking outside, a frown on her face and a smile on her lips.

Post away IC In the mean time, Robert will respond with a Chronicotromitonium blast! 1d20+16=21 which is also a miss!

Yeah, it is annoying, huh? Thing is I named myself SC joining, then it struck me it would be a great name for a PC... My default position is surprise me, unless it something you have a good hunch you should discuss first.

Velocity can react!