Supercape

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.

Not sure how you want to handle this Thev. But basically the Hound is going to use his Gather Information skills. Taking 10 or 20? DO you want to use the official Gather Info rules on finding people for this? or some other plan / idea? im easy!

NPC "Sure, sure. We'll be in touch, and we'll take the case. Don't you worry" said the Hound, reassuringly, leading his new employer out as politely as possible. Once the coast was clear he sat down in their battered leather sofa and slung the picture onto the arm rest. "Well, the pay's good. But this will be like finding a Needle in a Haystack" he sighed. "Whats the plan then?" said the Mess, throwing a basketball into a hoop in the gym at the other end of the barn. "Beat's me" replied the Hound, with a weary smile at his partner. Dumbass always keeps me going he smiled to himself, thankful of his partners energy. "But we gotta start somewhere. Make a few phone calls. Maybe see if anybody at the docks has heard anything. I'm guessing she came in by sea. Maybe make a few inquiries at Claremont, see if anybody there knows anything, although they can be a secretive bunch, for sure". Summoning up his energy for what would be a difficult task, he pulled himself up from the Barn's sofa to the desk, and started tapping in some numbers...

1d20+4=20 Bruise. As for Knuckles he will try to intimidate / startle Mali as a move action: 1d20+10=12 not too impressive. And then punch away! unshifted attack. 1d20+10=21 which is, by the skin of his teeth, a hit. Its only a DC 18 Toughness save.

"Strange you say?" said Rene, stroking his beard and entering the Church. It was, as Henri had said, cool. And the midday sun of souther France was a little over what could be deemed pleasantly hot. "Well, I am rather fond of strange, myself. Strange, aside from being rather enigmatic and interesting, can often be excellent to paint!" he said, trying a little chuckle to inject some levity into the cool dark church and the cool dark conversation. "But what say you about this strangeness? do I detect something with a more ominous air? or even malign? please, as a traveller if their is disquiet here, then I should do well for myself and my sister to know of it!"

Thev that is all fine, although you will break cover on the ship in terms of stealth. Thunder> Initiative Rolls please! I'm giving Crimson Tiger 1 HP for splitting for the team and being goaded by Knuckles into a fight in the crowd. There will be blood! 1d20+10=16 Knuckles Initiative!

GM Under the pier... "So its a fight ya want do ya?" said Knuckles, cracking his namesakes. "Just for the fun of it, ya say?" he said, taking a few steps nearer her. "Yer on!" he shouted, and with lightning speed, zipped into action, using a classical boxing style. He was a boxer, that was for sure, all feints and jabs, but he was a dirty boxer, one who had fought in the streets on countless occasions. If that meant elbows, knees, or headbutts could be added to the menu, then he was all for trying out new dishes. He was strong, but more than strong, he was fast. And more than fast, he was all jeers, mouth and aggressive feints. Hard to pin down, and hard to predict. Whilst he did not have the strength, or the skill of Mali, he did have the raw aggression, and probably had even more experience.

GM Nice design... thought Robert as he ascended to meet the Baron. "Nice design, Katastrof" he said, shaking the Baron's hand. He was about the same height as the Baron, with a similar build, perhaps slightly leaner, with a mop of blond hair and a handsome face that was punctuated by two startling blue eyes. If anyone had observed the two, it would have been Robert who would have looked the more classically Nordic of the two. "" he said in very respectable Swedish. He had a bit of an accent, but he could clearly communicate well in the language. "But you will forgive me if I speak English I hope? My flight was long, and quite frankly, I am tired. Perhaps not just from the travelling. You see I have received a rather interesting gift..." He carefully placed, from his waistcoat, an intricate and rather old looking watch on the table in front of the Baron. "It seems to only work in my hand. It keeps time perfectly otherwise...a rather amusing piece. And something that is quite a mystery. To be honest, I wanted your expertise in understanding it. Because I'll be damned if I do..."

NPC "Sure sure, forget I asked, forget I asked..." said the Hound backing off a bit and rubbing his forehead. Why can't the dumb schmucks just gimme some goddamn clothes I can smell and track without thinking I am some kind of dirty old man in a mac He stuffed his hands in his mac in irritation, bringing out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. Knocking one out, and lighting up, he started to think aloud. "Well, we got a description, we got some ideas. We ain't got a motive, which is a bit of a hole. But hey, we can work with this. I can make a few call's, see what I can find. I gotta warn you, it wont be easy. Could be a whole heap of difficult, in fact, if she can turn invisible or disappear in a flash of smoke. Say, what did you say she could do?"

"What? Harry?" answered the Mess. "Woof Woof!" barked an irritated Harry. "Errr. Yeah. Harry, my dog Harry. Yeah, sorry about that. Look, I don't mean to be a bother or anything, but I'm a private eye. I helped save the guy who got mauled here, and, well I promised I would try and try and catch the scumbag who did it!" He shrugged his short, massive shoulders. "My dog here, he's good at tracking down scent's. Thought I might catch him that way, so to speak. From the sounds of the descriptions, I got myself an idea who did it too. Frank the Riveter. Got a Jaw made of Iron. And I don't mean like a boxer. I mean, his jaw is made of real iron..."

GM Knuckles took a small step back. It was small, but it was there. He looked around at the crowd. Can't lose face now... "So...what are you doing here apart from bragging? You ain't a docker, you ain't in my gang. And you ain't fishing, that's for sure. Maybe you just heard how good lookin' I was and fancied a kiss, is that it?" "Har Har Har!" he laughed, trying to drum up a laugh from the crowd. They did follow, but it wasn't as enthusiastic as the Irishman would have liked. "I like your style, sweetheart. And you ain't too unsightly for a gal who looks like a sack o' potatoes. You ain't earned your place in my gang, and I ain't talkin' to somebody who ain't earned it..."

The Mess lumbered up to Lucy and Ricky. "Underground fighting? Sounds good to me. Lefty and Righty here can handle that..." he said, bringing up his two favourite friends and clenching them hard. "I did puh-lenty of that as a kid. Ain't nuthin' I cant handle in a fight. Well, ain't nuthin' yet" he corrected himself. He looked a little puzzled for a moment. "But, its a bit weird. These street fights, they can be mean and brutal. But they don't like any muties or supervillians in 'em, much. Bad form, even for the scum of the streets. They go elsewhere..." He flexed his muscles and loosened his neck. "No use worrying about that now. Lets get moving. Lets bring it on!"

GM "What's this? What's this? A woman? Come to have a piece of the action, have you?" he laughed, then turned to the dockers, who where muttering to themselves and rather surprised to see Mali turn up. "You hiding behind a woman now?" he laughed at them, before returning his attention to the Crimson Tiger. He stopped a moment, studying her build and becoming a bit more shifty. "Well, it so happens I have had some challengers, but not a challenge, you be right there. But I fight fair here, lady. This be a fight between gentlemen. No Max, No Zoom, No Drugs, or Steroids..." he said pointedly, as he looked her up and down. "And no metahumans. This is proper fighting. This is about will and blood and spit, between men. Not sumthin' a hero who can fly and shrug of bullets would no nuthin' about. They won't be gettin' any respect, you see?"

"Ah yes! yes! My sister, that's right!" he said giving a firm smile to Marianne. God's work. That carries a wide variety of interpretations. From handing out bread to the starving, to torturing the innocent for confessions of heresy...still, he seems simple and benign enough! Rene resolved not to jump to any conclusion, but to take Henri at face value as a pleasant enough fellow. "Well, it seems we are in good fortune to be in good company then!" he concluded, taking Henri's arm in his own. "I feel this is going to be a splendid day. Why, the very sun and the sky tell me so!" he said, swinging his arm in a panoramic fashion to embrace what was a magnificent view. "Let us see the church then. Why, if only I had brought my easel and paints, I could have produced you a veritable masterpiece I am sure, Henri. But, I think perhaps time would not release me for such a task. Tell me, as I walk, what do you know of this village? why today have you come here?"

No nap time, surely?

That is certainly enough for the crowd. Knuckles, however - Ill give that an opposed roll, and put him at -5 penalty due to being preoccupied and light etc. 1d20+5=24 Hows about that. As for the assessment: 1d20+5=15 He is weaker than Mali. Post away IC your sneak, and assessment, Ill post Knuckles response. Given Knuckles only just beat you, I would suggest you can get pretty close before he spots ya. Its up to you if you want to say its because of bad luck, a klutz, or just because Knuckles is pretty sharp (which he is).

NPC "Like a rat in a trap!" chuckled Henri, stopping his drumming for a moment. "Rene, I am sure you know me as Henri Zenon. But, you know, I have walked here and there, and pretty much everywhere since I was just Monsieur Zenon. I walked places were I really shouldn't have walked. And I walked right into hell. " He laughed heartily, straight from the gut. "Thanks to you, and the chains you strapped to the dead to keep them there. I walked right out again!. Now, you can call me Deadbeat!" And with that he struck a slower, waltzing tempo, hypnotic and even melodious (for a drum beat), that hand heavy in the air.

Rene is going to delay action, as his magic array is tied up, as too is his paintbrush array. Deadbeat will go and send her sleep with a Fatigue 7 effect. A DC 17 Reflex and DC 17 Will Save to avoid the zzzz (either will do!)

GM The Master leaned forward, his eyes cold, but containing a vivid keeness that was the closest thing he was likely to experience to emotion. "I find out I missed something. Excitement. Whatever you may wish to call it, motivation, the rush, the drive, passion!" He pressed his fingers together and gave a smile. "And what's more, I find out how potent it can be. You have, I understand, penetrated my little experiment here at the High Steaks. It was, curiously enough, based on my reflections with you. You see, what you seem to possess was, at least superficially, the remnants of this. The shadow, if you will. In humans, it correlates closely with various neuropeptides, hormones, and transmitters. Adrenaline, Dopamine, and so on. In you, well, your organs have clearly dried up and are barren..." he lingered on the word, observing the effect the little barb would have "...but the organs are there still. Just as your muscles, whilst dead, are still active, so to do the shadows of those organs..." "So, I experimented. Blood has an invogorating effect on my kind. Now, here, I have developed an elixir, by means sorcerous and scientific, to extract the most potent of blood, from customers laced with pharmaceuticals that produced a marked excitation. If you add in the passion of, in this case, gambling, and, like veal, pluck them when most ripe..." He rose with excitement. "Yes! Yes! I have felt the vaguest shadow of passion once more. And curses! it just vexes me, as I desire even more the fullness of life with the strength of my immortal body!"

GM Tsunami was in little or no danger of being spotted, it seemed. The night was dark and it was raining, and being largely submerged, she could swim to a few dozen yards of the commotion in almost complete cover, with just her eyes bobbing in the gently lapping but cold sea. There were perhaps two dozen men, maybe a few more, it was hard to say. There was a fair amount of booze flowing, enough to hit Tsunami's nostrils even through the salty sea air. It was stale and cheap. They were gathered around a fire in a steel drum, providing warmth and light. There seemed to be two parties, although it was hard to tell, about equal in number. One, a group of dockworkers, kitted out as such, one a group of thugs, also kitted out as such. Words were shouted, and unfriendly. Tensions were high. At least two dock workers had been knocked out cold, or at least were pretty stunned and prone. Claiming victory for this was a thin, razor-muscled man with a mop of ginger hair, stripped to the waist and raising his hands in victory. "C'mon then! C'mon then! You get yerself a problem with Knuckles and his gang, have ye? Want to take a swipe at me do ye? well, c'mon then! C'mon! whose next! whose next? If ye think yer so tough, cmon have a go if ye think yer hard enough!"

That will do fine at this distance in low light conditions.

"Why not indeed?" chuckled Rene, as Marianne impulsively darted forward. He had the sense that she would lead them into peril and chaos. But, so be it. Out of great chaos grew great art. "Bonjour, Monsieur!" he said, bowing to the villager. Rene could only guess he was the local priest. He certainly looked like one. He disliked priests as much as he disliked aristocrats - whilst they were on the whole marginally less malign, they were, in his view, marred by considerable hypocrisy. Still, there were enough exceptions to the rule in both cases that one could not jump to conclusions. "We are, just visiting this remarkable village, my friend and I. Please stay a moment and tell, what news? is there a place for travellers to rest, take food and drink and slumber?"

Thats good for me, Thev. If you want to remember specific details of the family etc based on that prior research and experience, as it was a while ago, lets call it a DC 10 INT challenge (+4 if you had eidectic memory! )