Supercape

Holding off posting till you guys do social bit and give me a plan!

The Baron opens the door in a mere few seconds! Could I now have initiative rolls. Dr. Lind: 1d20+5=14 Robert Harrow: 1d20+34=39

GM For all the effort that had gone into blacking out the laboratory, and killing the internal communications, the door opened remarkably easy. It was true to say that the Baron, with his intricate knowledge of the system and skill with all things technological, could have bypassed whatever lock had been put in place, but - although it required a modicum of work - he could not shake the feeling that it was a little bit too easy, even for him. Inside the stopwatch laboratory, all seemed quiet. Two technicians were reading out some rather spurious and tedious data. The stopwatch, centre stage, was no longer there - and nor was Lord Harrow...

"Bad people? Merge Trois? Danger? Stairs?" spluttered Quentin, try to absorb all the vivid imagery of Merge Trois and the explanation she had given all at once. It didn't help having his brain so sensitive to disruptions and flows of energy, gravity, and the like - Merge Trois was gaudy to more than sight. He held onto his tweed jacket, contemplating a transformation into Supercape courtesy of the unstable psycho-reactive molecules he had patiently woven together. But he had no wish to reveal his secret I.D. "Well, madam, I have no idea who you are - who any of you are...errr...but you seem to have a remarkable gift for multiplication. I should enrol you in my maths class!" he quipped. Before the tumbleweed could roll, he carried on. "Getting out of danger doesn't seem your style, but it is certainly mine!" he said. "Allow me to follow you, and...errr...run away if there is trouble!"

GM A little later... The Emergency services - police and ambulance soon arrived, just as the first light of the sun dimly lit the horizon, in the early hours of the morning. Who should be hitching a ride with the ambulance than Doctor Wessex! "I couldn't sleep - to wired on whatever your friend spiked my drink with!" babbled the man. "I sent my blood of for analysis at the hospital. Only got the preliminary results. Some powerful drugs there, dopamine, adrenaline, nor-adrenaline, all sky high. Gave me quite the adrenaline rush, I guess you could say..." he said, still sweating and smiling. "What are you going to now?" he asked. "High Steaks Closed down, at least for now. Vampire den? I'll be carrying a clove or two of garlic, from now on, I can tell you..." he said, a little fear in his voice.

In which case - well, how to attack a living building! First things first, using his magic paintbrush Light Control 7 power to paint in some light and counter the shadows. 1d20+7=11 not good!

"Oh my aching bones!" wept a tired Rene, who, just for this once, was actually feeling his age. He had lost his vitality pouring forth his will into the fight against the vampires, and the walk upstairs had not done his old knees much good. He may have had the cunning arcane power of a mage, but he had not the physical vitality of Nick and Changling. He could feel his edge slipping. "Begone, shadows!" he said in an irritable, tired voice, whipping out his magic paintbrush and striking it thus and so, beams of light cascading weakly against the shadows that etched themselves into the club. "Terrible things, shadows..." he moaned. "Spoil the art..."

Thats all good!

GM "Flying, is it?" chuckled Rene at Marianne. "Well, liberty does give you wings, after all!" With a beckoning of hand, he called Henri and Rene to follow him, as he slipped around the two guards and into the Mansion. "Forgive my deception, Henri. I have a rare gift with art. It is true I paint on canvas, and am skilled enough in the more usual form of painting, but I have come to see all the world as a canvas. I can, with some effort and will, paint onto the fabric of reality..." He looked back at the silent simulacrum. "But such deception will not fool our guardsmen for long...let us make haste into the Mansion. Time is against us, I fear, and a more lengthy debate on philosophy and magic will have to wait for more opportune moment!" With that, he scurried up to the Mansion proper.

"You can count on that!" yelled back a furious Rene at the departing Gallia. He was about to launch into a series of expletives and curses, when his eyes caught the ruined painting. "Ah! No! Assasination!" he moaned as he fell to his knees, raising his arms and despairing at the ruination that Marceau had inflicted on the painting. "The painters of antiquity will spin in their graves at such a devastation! alas! woe! to sacrifice such creation!" he wept. "And for nothing! Gallia is free once more, that twisted spirit. But why? is she bound to service, or is she to bind to hers? Whatever the case, the future is bleak!" He stayed on his knees, despite their ferocious complaints of age. "Marceau, Gallia is a spirit that has been corrupted and bent. A spirit of France, but one of tranny and bloodshed, who, it seems, cannot accept the liberty of the age. And now she has possessed some innocent. Pfah! I will not stand for it! We must stop her!"

Captain is lying about knowing what he is carrying. I.e. he does know. As far as you can tell thats all he is lying about.

Rene turned to Marceau and conferred with him - in heavy French, hopeful that it would not be heard. He kept his voice down as a precaution. "<What say you?" he asked. "<Tasselfoot seems to obscure her intent. Perhaps ally, perhaps not. Perhaps worse. A creature of conflict maybe - struck between loyalty and tradition on the one hand, and sense of justice on the other. 'tis difficult enough to predict the which direction points the heart of a fey, but here I fear there is no compass at all!>" He frowned. Tasselfoot had clearly affection, and wisdom even, but who could say what would happen at the Feast? "<I suspect we have influenced as much as we dare. Let us see what comes tonight at the Feast. Have you any other plan or plot before the great banquet?>"

GM Meanwhile...on the Bridge... The Captain swung up his shotgun when he heard Blod. His poor crewman just cowered, taking step by step back. "Not many people can sneak up on me, girl. Especially on my own ship!" he replied, looking her square in the eye. He was fingering the gun. Despite his age, he was limber, and Blod guessed he had had some military training. He certainly knew how to handle the weapon. "And I am captain on this ship. That means its me who is giving the orders. You are a minute away from being a stowaway, my girl, and I don't take too kindly to them. Given you are also a meddling snoop, that means you are rapidly filling up my little black book of bad girls..." "I'm not shutting down the engines. I've been hired to make a delivery, and I'm going to make it. I don't know what's in those crates, and to be honest, I'm not sure I rightly care...so you better give me a good reason not to throw you off my ship, or...worse..." he added, indicating his weapon.

posting captains reply. Also, although he is not fighting, I am giving him an initiative if he does get embroiled. 1d20+8=11 Moving, somewhat arbitarilly, to round 2. Can Blod make a Sense Motive Roll DC 19 Round 2 25 - Blod - 2 HP 24 - Tsunami - Fatigued - Unharmed - 2 HP 21 - Crimson Tiger - Unharmed - 4 HP 13 - Devil Ray - Unharmed 11 - Captain - Unharmed In addition, can I have a notice roll from Crimson Tiger - who is not on the ship yet, and may be waylaid! Blod is up.

GM "Tsunami, is it?" hissed the Devil Ray through his mask. He paused slightly, concerned at who - or what - was facing. He was about to advance when the stream of water flew from the heroine at him. His momentary caution was well considered. He twisted to the left, and onto the deck. He was a capable, fast fighter, even in his armor - the black glint of servo motors and the faint hum of power systems all adding to his ferocious appearance. The sea water was still wet on his suit, and the now heavy rain glistened and spat on his armor. The floor of the deck was slick wet. He raised his own hand, releasing his manta ray - a blast of electricity that shot just past Tsunami and out into the wet, dark night. "And just what are you doing here...." he demanded, as hecame to his feet and ran towards her.

GM "Beats us!" answered the shorter worker, all smiles that he had attracted two, rather than one superhero. "We just got the say so from the boss. Get up here, put that sign on the beacon, and switch it on..." he paused for a moment, reflective. "Although he did sound pretty nervous when he said so. Funny thing, he was socialising with that party on the top floor, floor forty. There is some annual backslapping events for those journalists..." "Yeah, real swish!" added his partner. "I heard Jack Jackson was there. Man, I love his columns!" he chuckled to himself, oblivious to the apparent grunt of embarrassment from his co-worker.

NPC "We got a hit!" Harry yelled to his partner as a firecracker went off. "What?" yelled back the Mess through cupped hands. "I said...we got a...oh never mind!" he threw his hands up - a difficult feat given the jostling. crowd, and beckoned the Mess to follow him. And her..what? boyfriend?...who knows? but it makes things even more complicated, especially if he was another mutant, with the ability to fire lightning bolts from his fingers, and a trigger finger to go with it... "Be careful, for God's sake!" he said to the Mess. "Don't startle her, no lefty, no righty, and none of your bloody tricks!" he explained to the Mess, who shrugged and grinned. "Relax, Harry. It's just a girl..." "Yeah, but this smell's fishy to me...." muttered the Hound, to himself, as he pressed on to 83rd Avenue.

GM Even at the Baron's more sedate pace, it was not long before he and Velocity reached the Stopwatch laboratory. Whoever had impersonated the Baron's voice had, presumably, also done their best to black out the laboratory. The internal cameras just showed a black screen, and radio transmission was down. Having said that, there was no sign of any other disturbance. A lone security guard, gripping a taser, was waiting outside the laboratory. "What's going on?" he spluttered. "First an alarm, then no alarm. Then the camera's out...but I can't see anything wrong? as far as I know, they are all inside working on a dull science project...errr...I mean...no offence Baron, Science is all very interesting and everything..." he gulped, tugging at his shirt collar. The man didn't look to dull, but neither too bright - more muscle than head.

Unfortunately, there is not much to notice, really! but I'll keep that in mind.

If Scuffs is ok with it, I am!

Its possible, yes...I leave that to Scuffles but I don't really want to edit again! if Scuffles is ok with it and you can think of a reasonable way to get in without more edits, its fine by me.

Tagging this!

I presume rene's mental sense still operates?

GM As the alarms started up, they died down almost instantly. Over the radio, the Baron heard an almost perfect simulacrum of his voice. Perhaps those who knew the Baron very well might have picked up slight differences in his intonation or pitch, but it would fool anybody else. "Please be advised, the situation has been resolved. I say again, please be advised, the situation has resolved. Return to your stations. In the mean time, please note that internal communications will be taken off line as a precautionary measure. There is no cause for alarm. The stopwatch is now deactivated...." And with a spiteful crackle of static, the radio communication went silent. "Hold on!" said Dr. Ridderwall, stating the obvious. "That's not you! what's happening? what's happening?"

Because Fenris' facility has been infiltrated, its GM Fiat time and: Velocity - Unharmed - 3 HP Fenris - Unharmed - 2 HP For reference, if it comes up, the voice mimic is DC 30 to spot with notice or sense motive (whatever is higher).