Supercape

GM The Blast of light erupted straight at the mid section of the enormous crocodile, exploding in steam and brilliance. The Croc itself was spun, and flew through the swamp from the impact, breaking branch and root till it landed several dozen yards away, steam rising from its hide, and scrabbling its limbs ineffectively. Whatever rage had gripped it, evaporated. It slunk once more into the grey and filthy swamp waters, swimming off to nurse its wounds. Broken Crow opened one eye again in the middle of his murmuring. "Nearly there! can you feel it...we are returning... ..and so are they..." he said, shifting his eye. In the distance, the swamp people of Malaise had come to the end of their hunt, and were creeping through the roots and vegetation towards the duo. "...I'm going to bring us home..." said Broken Crow as the Marsh started to shift...

1d20+7=14 which is bruised, dazed, staggered. I don't really want to drag out a minor encounter so I'll say it will slink off (unless you really are set on finishing it off - croc boots anyone?)

GM "I have barely scratched the surface. I don't have the kind of resources or facilities to play around with that thing safely, or at all" he explained. "At least, not to do so in a inconspicuous manner. I hope you see the importance of discretion here, Sir" he explained, a trace of stiff diplomacy entering his voice. "If this item becomes common knowledge - or even uncommon, and it is known that somehow I have the key to its power, then both it, and, by default, I, become a target. That really is something I would rather avoid". He fingered the stopwatch, flicking it from finger to finger. "Your help would be much appreciated. And of course you are welcome to any findings you get from the device, provided we have anonymity. And, for now, I would prefer to be present wherever you take the watch. I have time, and I have some expertise in these matters. Forgive my paranoia in this regard - I fear I may well have use for such paranoia...."

NPC "Tea..yeah...ummm...great..." said the Hound, sitting down and wrinkling his nose. Some damn green oriental stuff no doubt. Gimme some American coffee, thick as tar as bitter as hell anyday. Still, when in Chinatown... "We are real pleased to meet you, Mr. Chen. Heard a lot about you" he lied, smoothing down his crumpled tie onto his crumpled shirt. "I see we were not mislead. You got class Mr. Chen. I can see that. Real class. That don't come around much often these days, huh?" Freddy stuffed his face with prawn crackers giving a cheeky grin. "Yessir" snapped the Hound, keen to direct the attention back on to him. "Real class. Not like some people would know" he said firmly, sparing a despairing glance at Freddy. "Anyways, we need some help Mr. Chen. We are at a dead end without your help, to be frank. We are looking for a young girl, a runnaway. We believe she might be in some kind of trouble. We wondered if you might know anything about it, or where we could be looking...." he said, imploringly, passing over the photograph of Giang.

Rene paused, and looked closer. "What has happened to Gallia? wait...." "This makes no sense. Gallia would not give up like that. Not without a barbed comment. That isn't her style at all. Where could she have gone?" He squinted. "Of course, she may not have gone. Beatrice, we have no wish to harm you, but Gallia is a tricky devil. I am not so sure she has gone at all..." "Maestro, play on!" he said with a snap of his fingers, as Deadbeat continued to bang out a soporific beat.

That should, technically, only make her fatigued. Although your call on this!

Deadbeat will continue with his lullaby. DC 17 Reflex and DC 17 Will Save

NPC The Hound shrugged. Part of him quite liked Ricky. "He's got a point, honey" he said to Lucy. "Ricky may act like a toad. Hell, he probably is a toad. If he can squirm, he'll squirm. If he can run, he'll run. But when it gets right down to it, he's always been straight with me. No, he may be slippery as an eel to get hold of, and need a bit of encouragement to talk, but he's helped out before, and he came good. I s'pose what I'm saying is that when Ricky does talk, I guess I trust him..." He sniffed, and stuffed his hands in his mac. "There you go Ricky, just don't go all soppy on me, eh?" he said, giving Lucy a wink and turning back to her. "If you still stuffing dollars in your mattress, you need an upgrade. But right now, that might come in handy for some quick cash. I say we let Ricky walk, and get going underground. See what we can sniff out, eh?" He called over the barman. "Double whiskey for my man Ricky over here! seeing as he has been so good to us!"

"Hautpoul Manor, you say?" asked Rene, taking another glass of wine. He was a regular but not heavy drinker. But he could feel the warm flush of intoxication whispering at him. Slow down. Even if it is excellent... "Well now, that does seem strange to say the least. Tell me now, what do you make of this Manor and these men? God-fearing folk are they? or are their Morals less than desirable?" One more sup... He pressed the fine wine to his lips once more. "A priest like yourself, here. Perhaps you think of some souls to save, eh? Does your nose lead you to the Manor?"

GM The Captain stroked his short clipped beard, looking out at the sea. Perhaps it was his years experience, but he didn't like to take chances. "Stay there. If you see anything, sound the alarm..." he told the ship hand. He reached to the locked gun cabinet of the bridge, and pulled out a pump action shotgun. "I don't believe you saw what you said you saw" he explained. "But then I'm not a man to take chances...." He strolled out of the ship, lifting his face to the sky, feeling the rain on his face. Even as he did so, the rain became heavier and darker, and a roll of thunder could be heard. A faint smile crossed his mouth. "Hmmm..." he murmured to himself, taking a flashlight from his pocket and walking down the deck, shotgun cocked...

GM "I suppose recently is a somewhat meaningless term when it comes to time travel...." mused Lord Harrow, picking up the stop watch. "Although that would make some sense. Not that I know of any offence yet. But in terms of time travel...you see, that is not all it does..." He placed an unopened pack of cards on the table where the stopwatch had been. "See that?" remarked Harrow "Observe it carefully..." he turned back to his top watch and made some fine adjustment to one of its many small knobs. There was a sensation of a blur. Nothing more. And then the Pack of cards was gone and in its placed an elaborately constructed house of cards, sitting on top of each other perfectly. The change was virtually instantaneous. Robert put down the stopwatch, carefully this time. "For you, that took, what...one second? less? For me, I spent an hour making that. Time slowed down. Or, perhaps, sped up. Depending on your view. Relativity and all that. Quite how is another matter altogether. I mean, I could think up some theoretical ways of doing it. But to actually put it together is another thing altogether. The technology to do that doesn't exist now, as far as I am aware, let alone a century ago..." He coughed slightly. "Obviously, I didn't want to create a fuss with this. I wanted to approach someone with some manners. Some class, so to speak. Hence, I approached you..."

Hypnotic Gaze! DC 20 Reflex to avoid Gaze, and if not, DC 20 to avoid Mind Control!

GM "Yes...yes you do. I must confess that is most vexing..." sighed the Master, drumming his fingers on his battered old leather chair. "So, I come to a conundrum. I have no wish to destroy you. You are too valuable. On the other hand, I cannot let you shut down this valuable asset. I am thus in something of a quandary..." He got up, pacing in irritation, pressing his hands to his head, up and down twice over he strode. Before turning heel and marching up to Revenant. "What if you were to stay here?" he asked. "Yes! Yes! Stay here...." he continued, gazing deep into Revenant's eyes...

NPC "Curse you, you heap of no good trash, get moving!" shouted Harry at their faithful Caddy, as its engine burped several times, refusing to start. The Mess, passing by to get in, gave the Caddy a sturdy kick in the side. The engine jolted and started up, giving a puff of dirty gas as it did. "How in hell's name do you do that?" shouted the Hound as the Mess got in, grinning from ear to ear with out saying a word. "Right, I got us a lead" he explained as the duo sped off. "A Mr. Chen. Gordon Chen. Lives in Chinatown. Should have thought that would be the place to snoop around in. We got a meeting with him in...hell...twenty five minutes...so that means we gotta move...." The Caddy shifted forward, travelling as fast as it could through the irritations of Freedom City Traffic, towards Mr. Chen...

GM "You would think so, on first appearances, wouldn't you?" he answered, picking up the watch. He showed the Baron the clock face - it was intricate, no doubt. Perhaps not a masterpiece, but it had all the hallmarks of a fine antique watch. As soon as Lord Harrow took it into his hand, it started ticking again. And more than that, it quickly changed its time to a perfect reading. "Look? It only works in my hand. And as soon as I pick it up...the correct time. To the nanosecond..." he explained, comparing the watch to his hand held digital wrist watch. The time was identical. "Pretty interesting huh? Perhaps I could spike your interest further. This package was mailed to me, from London. Nothing so unusual about that. However, it had been hanging around the Royal Mail, with instructions to be delivered on a certain date. New Year, 2013, to be exact. Most people thought it was a joke. Heh, interesting Joke. It was posted in 1902...." "Now how come a stopwatch, built over a hundred years ago, can calibrate itself perfectly to the current time, and also be coded so that it only works in my hand???"

NPC "Damnit!" cursed the Hound as Ricky spilled the beans on the cost. "I...err....you see....I seem to have misplaced my wallet...." he said, patting the sides of his mac. As he did so, the jingle of coins could be dimly heard. "Oh hell. A couple of hundred you say? well I suppose we can stretch to that from the petty cash. Although afterwards it will be more like the no cash at all cash.." he sighed, pulling out his wallet and stuffing some bills next to Ricky's. "With a bit of luck we can win it back, right, Freddy?" Freddy replied with a grunt. "I don't do that fighting no more, Harry. Not like that, anyways...." "Huph...well, as long as we get that money back..."

GM The panicked ship mate ran towards the bridge, slipping over twice on the wet and slippery deck, and punctuating the unfortunate falls with hearty marine expletives. Upon reaching the bridge, he went to sound a horn, all the while scanning the horizon for further unusual hydro-activity. Imminently, the captain of the ship arrived. He looked old, maybe in his mid fifties at best, but more likely pushing sixty. He had a grizzled white stubble to complement a grizzled white hair. For all that, he looked in good enough shape for a man of his age. Perhaps he was not as fast or as strong as he once was, but the captains cap didn't mean he wasn't fit and active on his ship. "A tornado? What in God's name are you talking about?" he yelled at his deck hand, before snatching up his binoculars and scanning the horizon. "Too dark to see out there anyway, what with this rain on top of everything. But you don't get typhoons when the sea and wind are calm like this, sonny!" he reprimanded his ship hand with a stiff, iron voice. He had an american accent, but one that had been peppered from travels around the world and sounded, if anything mid-atlantic.

1d20+15=32 Who is up?

I like it! I like it! I like it! :approved: :approved: :approved:

"Secrets are delectable, are they not!" roared Rene with laughter, warming to the cook and helping himself to a very generous glass of ancient wine. "My dear Grindwent, you are to be congratulated on your cellar" he said, a soppy grin over his face. "As for secrets, the partner of lies, well, we hear only whispers. Who can say what truth there is in them? Hartfoul and Parsinkle conspire, tis true. They seek dominion of this realm...and others. What manner of dominion, and the means to achieve that, I know not. But my gut, full of wine, tells me it is an ill boding!" He smacked his lips in appreciation. "Excellent wine!" Let us see how they handle the truth for a change!

Like the sheet. Feedback flaw is good here I think. One point: Summoned creatures / Minions / Sidekicks cant have luck feat (or indeed any HP)

Yeah, I didn't of course want Gather Info to act like a homing beacon, more as a link to the next thread. As such, its more of a plot device. I'm pretty happy with any of the above. I suppose the Docks would be the obvious place to start looking, but Im not sure if that is a rich vein to mine. I leave the options to you. Re: Claremont. I understood it was an "open secret". Which means it puts the Mess and the Hound in a tricksy position. They are, after all, both metahumans - Hound for all his many decades, and the Mess for at least a year. This makes it tricky to exactly know what they would know about Claremont. Owning up here, I have always never really been interested in Claremont. Teenage Supers - or at least the conglomeration of teenage Supers is of no personal interest. Its one of those "I'll ignore it" blind spots for me. Other people are interested in it so it ticks along of course, which is a good thing. As, to be Frank, I dont really want to get involved in Claremont - as an institution - (I am fine with the individual characters in it) - I think the best thing for me, personally is just to fudge it and say that Mess and Hound know of it vaguely as a place where they have teenage superheroes, but that all, and that alone. It would probably fit with there own status, without having to get to involved and without giving away enough to break this thread! Of course I don't object to having Claremont in the thread (especially as if thats where Tsunami is), its just I personally find Tsunami a whole lot more interest than the X-men acedemy institute! I hope that makes sense.

GM "Is it now? Most disappointing, most disappointing. Tell me then, as you seem to be in an unhelpful mood today, how are you going to disband the High Steaks? It has become a profitable business, legitimately as well as for my own means. And I do own it..." His form shifted and blurred in front of her, to become that of a fat Texan in a cowboy hat and elegant white suit. "And Mr. Rothko, the owner, does like his Steaks!" he said in a Texan drawl. In a moment, he flashed back to what was, presumably, his true form. "I would be most disinclined to shut down this operation. You have already cost me one, and this one is even more valuable. It is true I have assets over the world, but it here that I have produced my elixir. Neither I, or the vampires that work here, would have any desire to let that sweet nectar out of their sight..."

GM Meanwhile...on the Prince Edward... "What in Neptune is that!" yelled a tired and wet ship hand, as the funnel of water appeared besides the hauler. He was on his own, a torch by his side, and some warm and much needed tea in a flask. Night duty on deck was not exactly popular, but he did the rounds every hour, checking everything was ship shape and Bristol fashion. As the funnel of water expanded, he dropped his tea, and ran towards the bridge of the ship, his legs flush with fear and thus suitably emboldened with speed. "Gotta tell the cap'n! gotta sound the alarm! its some kind of cyclone!" he jabbered to himself, although well within earshot of Tsunami.

GM "Sweet Jesus" cursed Knuckles as he took a few steps back from his initial assault, rebounded by the swift jabs of the Crimson Tiger. He bit his lip and refrained from holding his throbbing ribs. She punches like a mule kicks...but I ain't giving her any satisfaction! He came in less quickly this time, with more grace, his fists setting up a rhythmn, pounding away at her, taking the initiative this time, until suddenly he broke from the effective, efficient rythmn, and swung his head at her in an unpredictable head butt. "Didn't teach ya that at Kung Fu class did they!" he said, gritting his teeth.